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kohakuarisaka · 2 years ago

Text

Subspace [chapter 12 of ?]

Takami Keigo x (fem!)Reader

[ SUMMARY ] Your dom let you drop, and Hawks picked you back up. It was an act of kindness; and yet, you couldn’t stop thinking about each other since, and what could be. Suddenly, your relationship with your boss became so deliciously improper.

[ WARNINGS ] R18+ for graphic sexual content and language. Dom!Hawks and Sub!reader. Female reader with female genitals. BDSM elements. Kink discussion. Aftercare. Consensual rough sex. Feral behavior. Wing kink and feather play. Consensual dirty talk and verbal abuse. Unprotected sex. Penis in vagina sex. Oral sex. Bondage & Shibari. Master/slave play. Biting/choking. Degradation. Vibrators & anal plugs.

♪ ♫ What I listened to while writing this

Chapter 1 • Chapter 2 • Chapter 3 • Chapter 4 • Chapter 5 • Chapter 6 • Chapter 7 • Chapter 8 • Chapter 9 • Chapter 10 • Chapter 11 • future chapters coming soon~

Links: [ My BNHA Fanfic Masterlist on Tumblr ] ~ [ Also on my AO3 ]

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The mood was different the next time you stepped into Hawks’ apartment.

He was there at the door to greet you, like always. He was wearing comfortable clothes, bare feet on the cool tiles. Only, there was something charged in his stare. It wasn’t cold or condescending. He looked a little upset, but not in the way you had grown used to these past several months. It wasn’t that fake anger he conjured to fuel the persona he had created in your time together.

Tonight, there was something heated in his stare. It wasn’t frightening; rather, it made you feel safe. When his palm gently cupped your chin, fingers spread across your jaw, tilting your head back to force eye contact, you felt a trickling warm spread through your chest.

It was a little surprising, for a moment.

But, when you thought about what had conspired only a few days ago, it seemed obvious why he was acting this way. You didn’t want to allow yourself the fantasy of believing that it would change anything. Hawks was a hero, after all. It was his job, and you were just a nobody, doing your job, like everyone else.

Only, the look he was giving you conveyed something quite different.

“You scared me,” he uttered darkly. “I expect an apology…”

…

It had happened earlier in the week, on a rather unsuspicious Monday.

You didn’t own a car, as you didn’t need one to get through the city. A year or so ago, after settling into your new role as Hawks’ assistant, you moved to an apartment within walking distance. Plenty of grocery stores, bars, cafes, doctors’ offices and everything in-between were a short train ride away, if not easily accessible on foot. You could also take the ferry across the river if needed, and always enjoyed the salty air carried by the oceanic breeze.

You had a meeting scheduled across town and needed to take the bullet train to get there. It was just another day, another trip you had taken many times before, another cart you had likely been in several times before without ever considering it. It was just another day.

Until it wasn’t.

Something had crashed into the train, forcing it off the tracks and to a screeching, fiery halt. The first cart was almost completely demolished from the collision, and the following harshly piled up on the tracks behind it. The force had knocked you across the aisle, and a harsh slam into the hand rail had rendered you unconscious.

You were in and out in the following hours, bleary vision giving you glimpses of red cloaked skies.

When you woke up in the hospital, you figured it had been your wild imagination supplying a frivolous dream. The news was playing on the TV in your room as the doctor went over your discharge paperwork. A villain had caused the train crash and Hawks had descended upon the scene, a tornado of red feathers pulling civilians from the burning wreckage.

The news channel had gotten amazing footage of the scene, a beautiful barrage of red feathers swarming the cart in a furious tornado, carrying people into the sky before carefully descending them to where emergency personnel were parked with ambulances, waiting for them.

There was a very brief and blurry clip of Hawks exiting the train. His back was turned, his wingspan small and empty as his feathers filled the sky. His arms were curled inward, back arching forward, implying that he was holding something, or someone.

The footage ended, and the scene returned to the reporting news analyst explaining what had happened. Through a beautiful smile, the reporter babbled on about the amazing rescue Hawks performed, how he had arrived on the scene in record time, and not a single life was lost thanks to his speed.

The reporter’s voice faded away when the doctor stepped into the room. You tried to ignore the flushed feeling of shame and joy that made your tummy spiral, and tried to focus on the discharge information. Luckily, you had suffered no severe injuries. You had been pulled from the wreckage before suffering any smoke inhalation and the hero who had saved you took care to ensure your neck remained acute, leading to no accidental spinal injuries.

One of the rookie’s escorted you home from the hospital, made sure you made it safely up the elevator, and even offered to run any errands for you, which politely rejected, of course. For some time, you laid in bed and thought about it all, about Hawks rushing to the scene.

The fact that you were was just a coincidence, right? Sure, he had access to your schedule, and you always told him about meeting you had. But, that didn’t mean-… He wouldn’t have-…

Those intrusive thoughts kept you awake until the pain medicine finally kicked in, and you were able to drift into a pleasant sleep.

The next day, you got dressed and walked to work, as if nothing had happened. You were immediately faced with Hawks as soon as you passed the threshold. He didn’t wait a second to beckon you into his office. As soon as the door shut, the mask he wore vanished, and you realized how angry he truly was. You had seen plenty of fake glares, forced anger when he was pretending to set a mood during a scene. This was different.

This was real.

“What are you doing here? You should be at home,” he chastised, immediately knocking his visor off his face, careless to where it landed.

His irritation startled you, but only for a moment.

You put your foot down, crossing your arms, and returned his glare.

“I’m fine,” you retorted. “-m just sore. No reason I can’t be here.”

“You’re not fine,” Hawks shot back, his voice rising just a little. “You almost-” He cut himself off with a groan and dragged a heavy hand through his hair.

Hawks’ headphone followed, roughly yanked off his neck and tossed onto his desk. It was then that you finally saw the bags under his eyes, the dark tint on his eyelids. He dug his index finger and thumb into his closed eyes, turning away from you as he harshly rubbed his face. The coffee mug on his desk was startlingly aromatic. You could smell the caffeine from across the room.

“You should go home-”

“If anyone needs to go home, it’s you, Hawks,” you challenged him, letting your voice be harsh. “You look-”

“Don’t,” he snapped, turning back towards you.

The venom in his voice was frightening, alongside the angered look he gave you; however, he blinked it away immediately, looking regretful. There was the slightest moment that startle danced across your face, before it morphed back into anger.

“You-” he began.

“I-” as did you, cutting him off.

The room was still for a moment. You jolted a little when Hawks’ cellphone suddenly he went off. He harshly yanked it out of his pocket and squeezed it, pushing the side button and stopping the ringing. You stared at him, confused, especially when he tossed the phone onto his desk, reckless as it skidded across the surface.

“Look, I-”

He shifted forward suddenly, startling a gasp out of you and cutting off your statement. His arms curled up behind your back, carefully pulling you into a weak embrace. His head drooped into the space above your shoulder, hesitant to make contact, likely out of fear of hurting you. You stared over his shoulder, watching his wings fold in and sag against his back.

You sighed into the embrace, lifting your hands to slide them up his chest, and pressed yourself against him. He remained strong as your weight bore into him. Even in this tired state, he was unyielding, and it made you feel undeserving of such attention. When his arms tightened, you felt a slight ache in your lower back, but didn’t allow yourself flinch, afraid he would pull away.

This wasn’t appropriate for work, even with the door being closed. You knew that, and surely he did, too; but, you didn’t want him to pull away. Rather, you leaned in closer, trying to encourage him to touch you more. It worked, for his hands slithered up your spine, as if mapping out the surface.

“I meant what I said: I’m just sore,” you offered weakly, letting your cheek fall onto his shoulder. “Hawks, I can’t – I don’t want to be cooped up in my apartment.”

He understood that, more than you would ever know.

“…okay,” came his quiet, hoarse reply. “Sorry for snapping at you.”

As his arms started to pull away, you decided to make a leap. Normally, Hawks was the one who initiated; but, you decided, it would be you this time.

“It’s fine. I – uhm - can I come over Friday?” you whispered, tilting your head back to peer up into his eyes as he removed himself from the embrace.

He blinked, and you could almost hear the rejection as he mulled it over in his head.

You were still recovering. Even if you were just sore, as you claimed, that didn’t mean that a few days was adequate recovery time. But, as Hawks stared at your face, taking in the soft look of hope, he allowed himself to admit that, clearly, you both needed it.

Hawks replied, “yeah,” before swallowing dryly.

His eyes drifted down your face before rapidly shifting back up to your eyes. You tilted your head back, as if to answer that silent request, only, his phone started to ring again, and Hawks pulled away to answer it this time. Before you could hear too much of the conversation, you exited his office.

…

An apology.

You were certain you knew what he meant by that.

Hawks pulled his hand away, and you carefully set your bag aside, letting it drop forgotten to the floor, before beginning to descend in front of him. Before your knees were even close to the ground, Hawks grabbed at your bicep, and pulled you back up to stand properly.

“What’re you doing?” he snarled, dragging you in close.

Panic blossomed across your face. “Ugh - apologizing?” you offered weakly.

“That’s not how you apologize to me,” Hawks scolded, his brow sunken low over his eyes.

“Don’t insult me,” he added on darkly, giving your bicep a gentle squeeze. The venomous words had you trembling with delight and, honestly, you were a little disappointed he didn’t punish you for that misunderstanding.

“Now, do it right.”

That was how every dom before had expected an apology: on your knees, groveling at their cock with pitiful begging words. You felt foolish to assume that Hawks would expect one the same way, and even more foolish when you realized you didn’t know how he wanted an apology.

Luckily, he answered that silent plea. He let go of your arm, lifted his hand to his face, and tapped the pad of his finger against his cheek, before turning his head away from you.

With a soft gasp, deliriously endeared by his method, you leaned forward, planting your hands on his shoulders for balance, and pressed a soft kiss against his cheek.

When you pulled back, you whispered, “I’m sorry, sir.”

You could see him give you a glance from the corner of his eye before his gaze shifted away again, and he released a displeased, quiet exhale. A brief feeling of panic and excitement washed over you, and you leaned forward, kissing his cheek again, and a second time, just to be safe, before apologizing again.

“I’m so sorry, sir.”

He blinked slowly, but otherwise didn’t react. Spurred on, you tried again, this time delivering something suave to his cheek, feeling his fine beard hairs tickle your chin.

“Sir, I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”

He turned his head towards you, looking unimpressed. The frown on his face seemed more challenging than it did discouraging, especially when accompanied by the burning stare of his golden eyes.

This time, when you leaned in, you peppered butterfly kisses along the corner of his mouth, avoiding his lips as if you absolutely were not allowed to dare touch him there. Before you could utter sweet pleas to him again, a huff escaped his nose that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

Your fingers fumbled with his shirt where they clung to his shoulders, torn between temptation and nerves.

“Sir, I’m sorry,” you whispered again.

Hawks tilted his head down ever so slightly, and you took that as an invitation to kiss his lips. He didn’t reciprocate; but, when you leaned back, you saw a faint smirk appear. You gently pressed another kiss, and then another, leaning in until most of your body weight was pressed against him. His hands finally reached for you, grabbing onto your waist for purchase.

“Sir, please. I’m sorry.”

“Hmm,” Hawks hummed, blinking down at you.

As you stared up into those sunset eyes, you thought about what a monster he was.

And more importantly, how much you loved it.

You leaned back in, this time adorning his other cheek with kisses, one right after the other, making soft smacking sounds as you did so. He huffed softly when you kissed at his beard line. At that sound, you returned to his mouth, finding your methods rather desperate at this point. This time, however, he kissed back, arching over you as he did so.

You moaned, embarrassingly loud, in response.

When he pulled back, he made a thoughtful sound. “…are you?” he uttered.

“Yes,” you breathed.

A calloused hand slid up your neck and you tilted your head approvingly, eyes fluttering shut. Deliriously, you thought about how massive his hand was, how easily he could cup your throat, how far across his fingers could circle the delicate flesh. However, in that moment, he was holding you gently. There was the slightest bit of a threat there, and it felt good.

“Are you?” he repeated, a little darker this time.

Your eyes fluttered open and you released a nervous breath. “Sir, I’m sorry I scared you.”

Hawks’ thumb trailed your cheek and you watched a series of emotions play out across his face. His other arm locked tight against your lower back and pulled you in, forcing your body against his. He felt firm, strong, and the pressure was a little painful, not that you cared to contest that. The smell of his cologne was gentle and reminded you of the ocean.

“Tonight… I’m going to fuck you.”

The words had left you stupefied, staring at him as if you couldn’t believe what he had just said.

Hawks huffed out a brief, quiet laugh, seemingly pleased by the stare you gave him.

“Would you like that?” he offered, a little teasing, but clearly sincere.

As if on autopilot, you replied quietly, “yes, sir.”

He leaned in, dragging his stubble against your cheek, until his lips touched your temple.

“You want my cock inside you?”

“Yes,” you panted, eyelids fluttering and hands now a death grip on his shoulders.

His hand, that had been gently caressing your neck, shifted to the back of your head and grabbed a fistful of hair. You cried out softly when he pulled your head back, grip careful to ensure he didn’t hurt you. Your eyes squeezed shut, not out of pain or fear, but from pleasure and excitement.

“I can’t hold back anymore,” he confessed in a hoarse whisper.

You huffed out a weak breath, leaning into him and silently begging him to continue.

“You have no idea how hard it is to resist when you want it so fucking badly,” he continued. “Even when you don’t say it. The way you look at me. Makes me wanna tie you up – use you every single night.”

A full body shudder betrayed whatever dignity you had left.

“Would that be enough for you?” Hawks murmured darkly. You could hear the smirk in his voice.

You didn’t quite respond verbally, but your grip on his shoulders tightened.

He laughed darkly. “No, no, it wouldn’t be. You want me to come inside you.”

It wasn’t much of a question, but you still tried to answer, whimpering out an agreeing sound.

“Yeah,” he agreed through a heavy exhale. “Just fucking you isn’t enough. You have to be full of me, even after I’m done with you. You want to feel it – remember it. Maybe, I’ll make you walk around my apartment while it leaks out of you.”

“Hawks-” you cried out, his name escaping as if against your will.

“Shhh,” he cooed, lips dragging against your skin as he spoke.

Your eyes fluttered open as he pulled back. You were breathing a little harsher than usual, you realized, cheeks flushed red as Hawks stared at you like a hungry, wild animal.

His knuckles dragged along your cheek before he pulled his hand away.

“Babybird, are you sure you still want this?” he asked, his tone as sweet as he could manage while making that face: a look that made it clear he was being serious.

He had spun you deep into the abyss; but, that concerned question had sobered you up enough to give him a proper answer.

“Yes, Hawks,” you breathed. “Of course I do.”

“I won’t be able to be sweet on you tonight,” he warned in a soft voice that contrasted that implication.

You didn’t ponder it for long. You weren’t sure if you wanted it sweet. When you were in between these nightly visits, you dreamt of him taking you properly. It was rarely ever sweet at the start. In your dizzy daydreams, he fucked you like he owned you.

With some bite, you answered sharply, “if I wanted sweet, I’d get a boyfriend.”

For a moment, Hawks was quiet, staring at you with a surprised look on his face. But, then, that look formed into an amused and wild smirk.

“Yeah,” he agreed darkly.

His lips fell over yours, wet and possessive, devouring. You let your hands venture into his hair, forgetting your place for a moment as he kissed you. Hawks seemed to forget, too, for he didn’t bother attempting to stop you. He held you close, tilted his head and deepened the kiss, forcefully drawing sounds out of you.

You both had drifted away for a moment, before he harshly pulled back with a wet smack. Hawks released you from his hold, though your grip on his shoulders and weight pressing into him kept you upright. With a careful hand, he cupped your bicep and pushed you away. You staggered back willingly, finding your footing.

Wordlessly, he tilted his head slightly in the direction of the hallway, a cold look in his eyes. You started for his room, and he followed behind you, looming like a dangerous shadow.

As you approached, your ears picked up a faint melody, a saxophone carrying a long note that hummed pleasantly through the room. Sure enough, as you crossed the threshold, you spotted the small radio lit up on the table by his chair. The saxophone finished what was likely the end of a long and beautiful solo before the piano picked up.

The hallway light turned off behind you, casting darkness into the room. A dim lamp at the bedside table was all that illuminated the room, casting a faint, pale glow. Even with your clothes on, the room felt colder than usual, and you knew it was intentional. However, the knowledge of Hawks’ presence made you feel warm and congested in your clothes.

As if reading his mind, you started undressing. Hawks remained behind you, and you could feel his eyes staring as your skin became bare. You couldn’t see his glare, however, as bruises that he didn’t make became exposed.

Once the final article hit the ground, fingertips spread across your back. You sighed as he traced invisible patterns across your skin. He leaned in, and you felt his breath on your shoulder.

“We have a new rule,” he advised firmly.

You exhaled heavily.

“Only I’m allowed to bruise and cut your skin,” Hawks whispered, standing so close that he was nearly touching you. “For every mark that isn’t mine, you’ll be punished. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” you answered in a mewl that showed how much you liked this new rule.

A large hand enveloped the back of your neck and pushed you forward. You staggered a little, before finding your footing as he maneuvered towards the bed. He pushed you over the edge and you followed the motion, bending over at the waist so that your chest and cheek touched the bed while your legs held your ass in the air, bare feet on the floor.

Hawks leaned up, eyes and hands trailing over you. He pressed up against you, letting you feel his clothed erection, his strong legs and abdomen.

“One,” he started, gently sliding his palm over a large bruise under your ribs.

He was careful, though you still winced slightly at the touch.

“…two… three…”

You drifted away as he counted, finding marks you had no idea about, in places your eyes couldn’t reach as easily as his could. He leaned back, stepping away a little, and nudged your legs apart. You tried not to shudder as your sex became exposed and the cold air washed over you. He had seen your nudity countless times before; but, you doubted you could ever truly get used to this.

“…eight… nine…”

“Hawks,” you pleaded.

His hand gently brushed the back of your head, a condescending touch, and he cooed a soft, “shush.” However, there was some warning in that tone, that he wasn’t going to tolerate that, and you sagged obediently into the bed.

He was quiet for a little while, hands wandering with his eyes, touching as if he couldn’t quite see you properly unless his fingertips did, too.

“Nine marks, babybird,” he uttered, sighing with annoyance.

For a brief second, you were afraid you were going to cry. Your sober self knew he didn’t mean it; but, you allowed yourself to drift down so far so quickly, and was already feeling the bubbling shame of damaging your master’s property. You pressed your face into the sheets and tried to ignore it.

“Knees on the bed,” Hawks commanded, sounding impatient.

You leaned up on your elbows with a dry inhale and pulled your legs up onto the bed. For a moment, you pondered what he intended to use. Then, you could hear a wispy sound as something floated over you and then a pinch as Hawks grabbed it: the sound of leather squeezed against skin. You knew what it was before he touched you with it. He dragged it gently over your back, letting the loose leather touch your skin.

“Color?” he murmured.

That was sobering, reminding you that this didn’t have to happen.

A dark part of your mind wanted the punishment, reveled in the knowledge that he cared that you had been in danger, that you had been hurt. The rational side recognized the need that you both felt, to give and to take, and how that carnal desire calmed the harsh realities of your lives.

You turned your head and spotted one of his wings spread wide, the fine, red plumes of his feathers trembling slightly, rippling from the base to the ends.

Even without being able to look at his face, his wings gave away his desire. He was anxious, itching to hit you, to strike your skin and make you cry. That thought wasn’t quite as alarming as your response was. Surely, a normal person would find that frightening; however, you flushed with excitement and moaned approvingly, arching your back.

“Green, please – please,” you whimpered pathetically.

“One more time, be honest,” Hawks whispered, arching over you carefully.

His nondominant hand curled over the back of your neck, holding you down, forcing you to submit. Your fingers clawed at the bedsheets, messing up how tidy they were and wrinkling the surface. You whimpered and Hawks lessened his grip. You inhaled sharply and felt his thumb move apologetically up and down the skin along your hairline.

“I want this,” you answered, voice a little stronger than it was a moment ago.

You heard him swallow and felt him lean up. He dangled the wispy ends of the whip over your skin, a warning, before drawing it back and cracking it across the back of your thigh, right beneath the swell of your ass.

He wasn’t nearly as rough as he had been in the past. Clearly, he was holding back; but, it still hurt, and the contact managed to force a startled scream out of you.

He was close enough for you to feel his warmth, but not close enough for you to feel how his cock twitched in his pants at the sound you made. The grip he has on the back of your neck kept you still, even as you jerked at the contact. The whip came down again, the sound of skin contact a loud echo in the room.

“Count,” he snarled.

“Tw-”

The whip came down again before you could finish.

Hawks stared at your face, only shifting his eyes away to make sure he wasn’t hitting you too hard or in the wrong place. It was difficult to look away when he could see tears gathering in your eyes, red staining your cheeks, pain and pleasure flashing across your face.

Some distant part of his mind told him how sick he was. His only reprieve was that you liked it, and that reminder was the only thing keeping that nagging voice quiet.

…four…five…

Hawks shifted back and moved to your other side, using his knee to push your legs a little further apart as he settled, trading hands. He adjusted his grip on your neck, a little more gently than he had been with his other hand. He waited, listening to your breathing, ensuring it was steady enough, less he accidentally hurt you improperly.

Then, the whip came down again. The other side hurt a little more than you expected, only because you had grown accustomed to the blossoming pain on the other side. Your scream was a little startling, even to your own ears. If Hawks was concerned about it, he didn’t show it.

…six…seven…

You couldn’t hear yourself count, though you knew you were doing it out loud, like master told you too. You couldn’t tell how you sounded, raw and sinful, like nothing mattered more than what he was doing. You felt some tears shed and turned your head to let them drip into the sheets.

…eight…nine…

Hawks dropped the whip and immediately drew you up into his arms. You were pulled limply, and cried out, not in pain or agony, but shame and delight. He crossed his legs on the bed and cradled you in his lap, pressing his lips over your cheeks to clean up your tears. You clawed at his shirt and wiggled forward until your legs tangled, planting your sex right over a thick thigh.

“Did so good,” he praised, pushing your hair out of your face. “Such a good girl.”

You whimpered like an animal, blinking away tears. His hard-on was trapped between you, but your thoughts were consumed by his warmth beneath your core, the soft material of his pants pressing against your folds.

“Fuck, you’re wet,” he observed through a heavy sigh.

Were you? You hadn’t thought about it until now that you could feel his clothes clinging to you, could feel his bare hands warming your skin. It was so cold in this room, but God he felt so warm.

Hawks’ hands shifted down and grabbed at the meat of your waist, pulling you forward slightly. That movement created friction that sent jolts of pleasure through you, which was made evident by a moan and shudder.

“Yeah,” he growled approvingly.

“Come on,” he urged, pushing you back and pulling you forward.

Your hands dug into his shoulders for purchase and you began rolling your hips, shamelessly humping his thigh. His cock was trapped in his pants, poking up into the seam, and receiving no attention from your movement. Still, Hawks moaned as if that wasn’t the case, staring at you with a hungry passion.

Pale lashes fluttered over gold eyes.

“That desperate, hm?” he taunted, words heavy. “Slutty thing.”

Hawks tightened his hold and forced you still. You whined and he hushed you with a snarl, “be good.”

The world rotated as Hawks pushed you back onto the bed. You flopped over uselessly, arms flailed above your head and legs trapped on either side of his waist. Your legs trembled on either side of his waist, giving away how nervous you were. Whilst not a virgin by any stretch of the imagination, this was new between the two of you, and you couldn’t help but be nervous for what was to come.

Hawks’ wings spread predatorily above you, a strong arm stretched above your head to pin your wrists to the sheets. You writhed beneath him, shuddering when his stare darkened.

Something smooth and firm fell into your palm. Hawks released your wrists and slid his hand up to grab it. You realized what it was as the material looped around the skin that his hand had previously been holding. You wiggled your fingers as he bound your wrists together, careful to ensure the knotting wouldn’t hurt you or leave a mark. He shifted up and looped the rope through a gap in the bed frame.

A few odd seconds later, he was done with your wrists and maneuvered down. Large hands slid beneath your calves and hiked your legs up. You didn’t bother looking down, recognizing the sensation of more ropes. He looped them carefully, but tightly, pinning your calves to your thighs and forcing your legs upright and spread, sex exposed. You tried not to dwell on the thought of how you must have looked.

As soon as he was finished, Hawks sat upright. His hands smoothed down your legs as he admired his handywork.

“Test the restraints, babybird,” he advised softly. “You know that.”

With a deep breath, you started pulling your arms, looking quite pathetic in a feeble attempt to escape the bindings. Your feet wiggled helplessly, legs trembling as you couldn’t budge in the bindings.

“Does anything hurt?” he asked, concern briefly flashing in his eyes.

“No, sir,” you answered breathlessly.

“Be honest.”

There was a heavy, emotional honesty in his tone, as if everything weighed on this moment. He wanted you in feral, dehumanizing ways; but, nothing was worth hurting you in ways he couldn’t take back. He wanted a surrender of trust and lust, not of fear and guilt. You wiggled around some more, testing the bindings. Hawks tried to ignore how much that sight stirred his arousal.

“Feels good,” you answered eventually, head falling limp onto the sheets.

You stared up at him with glossy eyes, letting your emotions speak loudly on your face. Hawks stared back at you as if hypnotized, his gold eyes bright in the dimly lit room, and soaked up every little bit of trust you conveyed.

For a moment, the music coming from the stereo played loudly in your ears, right alongside your thundering heart. But, as you laid there, helpless to escape and beneath crimson feathers, you started to drift away, back into that invisible plain in your mind, where nothing existed outside of this moment.

A sound, a lid popping open, snapped you out of that moment.

A wet digit nudged at your entrance and carefully slid inside.

“Oh,” Hawks huffed in surprise.

He shifted his wrist to glide out and back in and immediately started drilling the digit at a steady pace, pressing against your walls with intent. You were fairly loose already, slippery with your own juices. The heat of your insides was startling contrast to the cold in the room.

“Do you like being tied up for me that much?” he asked, a sort of smug tone to his words.

He stared down at your face, watching pleasure and shame morph into one beautiful, haunting expression.

“Such a greedy pussy,” he continued, as if talking to himself. “Ready to be stuffed full of cock.”

He removed his finger and slapped his open palm against your sex, letting out a hoarse, brief laugh at the gushing, wet sound it made. You squeaked, mostly out of embarrassment, and slightly out of startle at the sudden, harsh touch.

This time, two fingers slid in, the angle different as he turned his hand to press his thumb on your pearl. You whimpered, shuddering as he curled his fingers and circled the pad of his thumb over that swollen bud. As pleasure blossomed across your body, you struggled to keep your eyes open, not wanting to miss the way he looked at you.

But, then, his hand slid back, fingers carefully dragging out of you. The lube cap popped open again, followed by a squelching sound. You could recognize the shift of him as he rested on his knees between your spread legs. Quickly, it became obviously what the noise was.

Your eyes fluttered open and, sure enough, you could see his shoulder moving subtly. However, you couldn’t lean up to get a better look, and fidgeted against the restraints as a result.

Of course, Hawks caught on.

“You want this?” he asked, some strain in his teasing tone.

The effort was supposed to just be slicking his cock with lube; but, when you mewled and pulled against the rope tying your arms to the bed frame, Hawks kept going, a little lost in the faint relief combined with the gorgeous of you bound and ready to be fucked.

“Yes,” you answered in a breathless voice.

“Yeah?” he agreed through a moan. “What do you say when I give it to you?”

“Thank you, sir,” you answered, fidgeting more.

“That’s right. But, first, you gotta ask nicely – how I like it. Come on,” he insisted, raspy and low.

“Please, sir,” you immediately huffed out..

“You can do better than that,” he answered coldly.

“Please-” you blurted, some desperation shining through. “Please, sir. I want it.”

“Then, beg all pretty for me – beg me to fuck you,” Hawks commanded, his shoulder still moving, and the slick sounds growing louder as he increased the pressure.

His eyes were ravishing, staring with a wild hunger that you had witnessed many times before, but never tired of. You pulled against the restraints again, legs twitching as you failed to reach for him. It intensified, until you were practically thrashing around, torso stretched and chest angled upright.

“Please – your cock – I want it – inside – oh fuck me, please, Hawks, please,” you whined, vaguely aware of how you sounded, desperate and pathetic.

You failed to address him properly, but his eyes suggested he didn’t care at that moment.

Hawks snarled and the movement of his arm stopped. His head tilted back and you watched his wings jerk away and lock up before slowly curling back in to rest naturally behind him. You could see the pinched expression of pain on his face, and it remained briefly when he straightened out his neck.

Quickly, it morphed into anger.

You gawked at him, feeling a flush of nauseating arousal at the realization of what you had just done to him. Hawks flicked his tongue over his teeth before baring them, panting harshly.

He let go of his cock and shifted forward, nearly colliding with your forehead with how suddenly he leaned over you. You gasped weakly at his sudden closeness.

The music was still playing, a soft melody that contrasted the intensity of the moment.

His hands, one wet and slippery with lube, grabbed at your waist, and held you still as he slid in closer. His cock, warm and hot, dragged along your folds, the tip poking at your pearl as his shaft glided along the wetness slicking your entrance. You twitched and gasped, trying to wiggle into the right position that would glide him right in. Only, tied up like this, you couldn’t accomplish that at all, and was left to flail worthlessly.

For a moment, you laid together, panting in the same air, sex touching, but not quite one yet. You had half the mind to question him, or maybe start begging again; however, afraid he would make you wait longer, you kept your mouth shut. It became evident that he was waiting for his near-orgasm to wane, waiting for the intensity to waver.

After some time, his breathing evened out; but, the redness on his face remained ever vibrant. It was a painful arousing sight.

“Listen,” Hawks murmured, pausing to swallow loudly.

Your eyes were glossy, not quite focused even though you were looking up at him.

“Listen to me, you slut,” he added on harshly.

That snarl caught your attention, and you blinked rapidly, trying to clear your thoughts enough to dwell on whatever it was he was going to say.

“I know that I say you gotta take it and all that; but, babybird, you gotta know how mean it. This – when we have sex - if it doesn’t feel good, you color. Understand? I don’t want it if you don’t love every single second of it,” he whispered, raspy, but well-tempered and controlled.

This was important, you knew that, of course; but, his tone made it all the more severe.

“Always be honest with me. When you’re with me, I own everything you feel-”

As if to make his point clear, Hawks swiveled his hips, dragging his cock along your folds. Your next exhale was uneven, shuddering out of you. The staggering breath had your chest shuddering; but, you kept your eyes firmly on his.

“-and you will only feel the kind of pain I want you to. But, pleasure, babybird, as much as you want. I can’t guarantee that if you aren’t honest with me about your body.”

His wings were trembling where they hovered above you and the look in his eyes was desperate, sincere. You were silent, waiting with bated breath, incase he wasn’t finished.

“Say you understand,” he huffed out harshly.

“I understand,” you replied, breathless, but confident.

His resolve cracked, and you were ready to scream in absolute euphoria.

Finally, you felt the poke of his cock at your entrance. Hawks pushed forward and slid into you fully, right to the base, barely giving you a second to adjust. You cried out at the intrusion, more so out of surprise than pain. There was an ache, as to be expected. But, there was an immense feeling of relief.

He felt bigger than you remembered, and it left you full and dizzy. But, what was more overwhelming, was the feeling of his torso flush against yours, the settle of his hips deep within the space between your thighs. He arched over you, letting skin touch wherever it reached.

Hawks, somehow, managed to maintain his poker face, looking almost unbothered by his sudden entrance into your body. His brow shifted slightly when he rocked his hips back. The slightest bit of pleasure flickered in his eyes when he glided back in. You tried not to look away, not wanting to miss it, but yourself struggling to do so when someone soft wiggled between.

One of his feathers.

-small, but strong, and it settled expertly over your clit. It pushed upward, nudging your bud in a familiar gesture. You could feel your legs tremble against the rope. Hawks immediately set a rhythm, pushing in and out of you at a steady pace while the feather twitched against your bead.

“Oh god-” you sobbed, head falling back into the sheets.

At some point, he let go of your waist and dug his forearms in the sheets, somewhere by your shoulders so that his biceps could pin you in and keep you still. His hands grabbed harshly at the bedding, protruding his knuckles and veins.

He drilled his hips, snapping in and out of you with bone-rattling force. You struggled to keep your eyes open, shifting between his twitching wings and striking, gold eyes. His brow was lowered in a determined scowl and hoarse breaths huffed out of his parted lips between each thrust of his hips.

His pace was bordering too much. However, the movement of his feather delivered enough friction to distract from the harsh nudge of his cock impossibly deep inside you.

He faltered at some point, shifting his hips to change the angle. That next thrust was unbelievably better. Your body jerked away from him, an uncontrolled response, and you released an unholy moan. He rolled his hips, reaching that wonderful place inside you. Pleasure washed over you in heavy waves.

“Fuck,” he suddenly snarled. “You look so good crying on my cock.”

Crying. Were you?

Everything felt too good to focus much on the state of your body. Oh, but Hawks could see it all, could feel it all: from the debauched look on your face to the way your thighs shook around him. Your hands were fumbling above your head, unconsciously gripping at the sheets or pulling against the rope.

Your eyes were a little wet, not because it hurt. It was a little overwhelming: he was deep, carving out a place for his cock. It got better and better with every thrust. You couldn’t move your body much at all, helpless but to lay there and take it. An illusion, yes. But, you basked in it, trusting him enough to allow yourself to be taken like this.

“Do you like being pumped like a cock sleeve?” Hawks questioned harshly, grunting through his teeth. “Hmm? My little slut finally got the cock she wanted so bad. Does it feel good being my personal whore?”

You didn’t respond, too distracted by the pleasure to care enough to answer him.

But, then, Hawks reeled his hand back and slapped an open palm against your ass. He wasn’t gentle, either, and you screamed at the contact.

“Fucking answer me,” he snarled, not relenting for a single second on the rapid movement of his hips.

“YES,” you cried out. “S-sir,” you corrected yourself immediately after, a little bit softer.

The words were garbled as they came out of you, wet and distant. It made you feel pathetic.

Hawks seem to agree, for he laughed darkly. Between his thrusts, the laughter sounded winded, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride at his obvious enjoyment of your body.

He leaned in close, and huffed hot breath against your temple, right above your ear.

“Which part, huh? Proper answer or I stop,” he threatened.

“A-all of it,” you whimpered pathetically.

“Tell me,” he demanded through a harsh snarl.

“L-like being your-” you cut off briefly, trying to catch your breath. His hips didn’t relent for a single second. “Pers-s-sonal whore,” you finally huffed out.

That was awfully true, wasn’t it? These scenes fulfilled your wildest dreams; but, there was something immensely satisfying about belonging to Hawks. He had made it clear that you would be exclusive during the extent of… whatever this was. It meant more than he knew, and you wanted to make him feel as good as he made you feel.

“You’ve begged for this cock for months. What do you say?” he grunted.

“Th-aahh-nk you,” you replied weakly, breaking off into a moan halfway through.

“You’re welcome, babybird. Take it all now,” he cooed.

It was a sweet command, clearly taunting at the obvious fact that you had no choice, shuddering against restraints and moaning at the constant pummeling of his hips. His feather was vibrating against you, undulating as violently as his cock drilled in and out of you. Everything felt like a constant jolt of pleasure. Vaguely, you could feel the air stirring as his wings beat above you, shifting his weight harder into you.

He exhaled heavily and his words melted into you. “Such a good toy for me, aren’t you – taking my cock so, so good – fucking perf – ahh - feels so good inside you – yeah, you’re gonna take my come, too, aren’t you?”

Against your will, you moaned and Hawks shuddered with an amused chuckle.

“You want it? Ask for it, nicely,” he uttered darkly, lips moving against your skin as he spoke. “Tell me where you want my come.”

“P-lease, inside,” you huffed out weakly.

“I am inside you, baby,” Hawks answered, and you feel the smirk against your skin, in his tone. “Come on, now, what do you want me to do?”

“H-Hawks,” you whimpered, head muddled by pleasure and shame.

“Be a good girl for me,” he whispered, a tantalizing combination of sweetly persuasive and darkly commanding. “Good girls get what they want, when they ask nicely.”

You wanted to be good, of course; but, that wasn’t the entire motivation. It made no logical sense. Then again, neither did anything else that you enjoyed together. You didn’t need reason. You just knew that you wanted him to-

“P-please, come ins-s-side me,” you whispered the words out, struggling from the intense movement of his hips and mind numbing pleasure.

“Sir, please,” you added on hastily, before he could think to correct you.

“I will,” he promised. “I’ll come inside you, my good girl.”

Your eyes rolled back and an inhuman cry spewed from your lips. Hawks could feel you tightening and knew before you did what was happening.

“Oh shit,” he grunted, having to slump forward to keep his momentum going, rocking his hips against yours with intent.

You were orgasming before you were even aware that it was approaching, suddenly struck with the force of it. It came on so suddenly, for a brief moment, you felt everything slip away. The world beyond this room was gone, and all you could think about was the pleasure, the weight and heat of master above you, his cock slipping wetly in and out of you.

“Yeah. That’s it. Give it to me,” he praised, voice hoarse.

His pleasured moans drew out loudly where he panted harshly above you. Hawks leaned in close, and you could feel the thundering of his heart where his chest pressed against yours. He buried his face in your neck and released a feral moan. You shuddered, thinking for a moment that you might come again. You didn’t, but it was pretty damn close, especially when you felt the snap of his teeth against your skin in a futile effort to silence his wild moans.

Hawks slammed his hips through his entire orgasm. The wet slap of skin echoed loudly in your ears as you sobered up from your own orgasm. His wings tore through the air so violently that they knocked the desk side lamp clean off the table.

The base shattered, but the bulb remained intact. Now, with the light shining from the floor, the room was darker. Shadows cast over Hawks’ form. His wings, however, were at just the right angle to catch the light. You watched the plumes twitch and shudder through his orgasm.

You recognized the heat of his seed first. It was startling, and you briefly feared it would burn you, as absurd as that was. He kept moving, and his spent slicked his cock, and you could feel it gushing wetly out of you.

A shuddering breath huffed out of Hawks, and his hips finally slowed. He stopped his thrusting and pressed a wet kiss against your cheek. Your eyes shifted to follow his gaze as Hawks leaned up to look at you properly. His wings shifted, curling in naturally against his back.

He didn’t look real, like something out of a dizzy daydream, and you were briefly afraid to blink, less he disappear.

Hawks leaned up, chest heaving as he had yet to calm his heart, and placed his hands delicately over your rope-clad thighs for balance. He was still hard inside you, and he remained there as he leaned back just enough to look down, tilting his head almost innocently.

An impressed sound whooshed out of him. You were a bit envious that you couldn’t see it: the sight of his cock, halfway inside you, soaked in a combination of your fluids. Some of it was dribbling down the edges of your sex, where your nether lips were still split on his cock.

He remained inside you as his hands started working at the bindings. He wasn’t very delicate about it, and you doubted the scene was over; so, you remained perfectly still, breathing still quite heavy. Hawks undid the knot that connected you to the bedframe, but the large bundle around your wrists remained.

Hawks leaned over you, guiding your arms over his head and onto his shoulders. You released a startled gasp when he curled his arms against your back and hoisted you into the air.

“Hold me with your legs,” he instructed, grunting in your ear.

You tried, but your muscles were weak, and you barely managed to get your heels to plant on his lower back. He could tell, clearly, for he laughed softly as he carried you to the bathroom. The radio switched off with a loud click.

Hawks headed for the bathroom. It took you a moment to adjust to the brightness, as it was blinding compared to the dim lighting in his bedroom.

The weight of him inside you made it evident that he wasn’t done that. That was made all clearer when he set you down on the wide counter top, right by the sink, and leaned you back carefully. Your arms pulled away from his shoulders and rested limply over your chest, still tied together at the wrists.

He lifted one of your legs, slowly to ensure he didn’t hurt a strained muscle, and pushed your knee into your chest.

You turned your head and realized exactly what his placement had accomplished. The mirror on the sidewall, next to the farther sink, was giving you the perfect view of your sexes. You could see his cock buried inside you, a glob of his spent oozing out and dripping onto the counter.

Hawks laughed once, amused, as he curled his hand under your head.

You were confused for a moment as to what that was for, until he started moving. Your head jerked back and, instead of clonking against the stone, you were protected by his hand. His other hand was curled against the underside of your thigh, partially for purchase, and to keep your leg up.

“Don’t look away,” he instructed. “Watch me fuck you.”

You obeyed, staring at the sight of his member effortlessly gliding in and out of your sex. With a front row seat, you almost couldn’t believe that you could fit him. Your nether lips were spread wide, pearl exposed. Everything was glistening with wetness, and the glide of his shaft was on full display, slipping in and out of your hole.

Hawks’ couldn’t seem to make up his mind, whether or not to watch the erotic sight below or the aroused, shameful look on your face. He pulled you a little away, until you were hanging off the counter top, and snapped his hips aggressively.

You whined, mostly from how sensitive you were.

“One more time,” he cooed, like a sweet promise.

Instead of his feather, he let go of your thigh and shifted his hand down to use his thumb instead. You jerked at the sudden touch, head falling back and eyes shuttering, and released a feral cry.

“Give me more one, and you can have more of my come,” Hawks continued, his voice hoarse, but oh so soft at the same time.

A moment ago, you didn’t think you could. But, now, that feeling was bubbling up almost painfully fast.

“You want more, don’t you?” he murmured between huffs of staggering breaths.

“Yes,” you whined.

“Then, you gotta come for me, first.”

Your arms trembled where they rested, bound, over your chest. You unconsciously pulled and thrashed against the bindings. You were trying, and failing, not to move too much, afraid you would hurt his hand where it held your head. Your legs twitched on either side of him, struggling to stay upright.

“Sir,” you sobbed.

“Yeah, babybird. Come on my cock again,” he praised. “Like the cute little whore that you are.”

He snapped his hips aggressively, rattling your bones.

That seemed to do it, for Hawks could feel you tightening. The pressure built up and you cried out, shaking in his grasp. It was a bit shorter, and didn’t leave you blinded like before. But, it was still so, so good.

This time, as he finished, Hawks pulled you in tight, pressing his cock as deep inside as he possibly could. He groaned loudly, jaw clenched and eyes pressed shut. You stared up at his face, mesmerized by the sight. His wings flexed again, albeit a little more controlled than a moment ago.

As he exhaled deeply, he carefully pushed your leg in towards your chest.

“Look,” he instructed.

Knowing what he meant, you turned your head and looked at the mirror, briefly taking in the debauched sight of your bound wrists and heaving chest, before looking down at your sex.

It played out like something out of a porn film. He slipped out slowly, cock shiny and wet with your arousal and his own seed. He was still hard, and an angry shade of red. His blonde pubes were completely drenched and darkened from the wetness. Just as soon as he popped free, a glob of his seed followed, oozing out.

Hawks leaned over you, smirking.

“What do you say when you get my come?” he whispered.

You tilted your head back to face him, and was so close that your lips touched his as you spoke.

“Thank you, sir,” you answered breathlessly.

Hawks undid your wrist bindings as he kissed you. You mewled into his mouth, wobbly arms finding the strength to latch onto his shoulders. He carefully pulled you off the counter and into his chest, still locked at the mouth. You sagged against him, feeling boneless and exhausted. He seemed well aware of this, for his hold on you was solid.

He detached from the kiss slowly and guided you towards the shower. He set you carefully on the bench before turning away to start the showerhead. You leaned back against the cool tile, wincing at the ache of your muscles. You blearily took in the sight of him, blonde hair a wild, sweaty mess, wings curled in tight against his back. You tried to blink that look away when he turned back to you.

For a moment, Hawks stood by the running water, letting it hit his shoulder. Droplets splattered from the contact, sparkling in the overhead light.

Once the water was warm, he gently grasped your arms and helped you to your feet. You stepped into the stream, leaning against him for balance, and sighed deliriously as water ran down your back.

“Be still, okay?” he warned.

You pressed your cheek into his chest and closed your eyes, certain of what was to follow.

Sure enough, Hawks detached a portion of the shower head and angled it between your legs. You winced, but otherwise remained still while he rinsed you off. He briefly angled the spray away and used his other hand to reach between your folds. You gasped when a finger curled inside you. He twisted that digit around carefully and you felt more of him ooze out with every passing second.

“Fuck,” he sighed.

Of course he was helping clean you up; but, at the same time, you were well aware that he was enjoying the view, and you didn’t mind in the slightest.

“Hold onto me,” Hawks commanded gently.

You knew it meant it both physically and mentally. The scene was over, and his hand exploring your sex was threatening to drag you back into subspace. Your hands were grasping at his shoulders, and you tightened their hold, nails gently biting at his skin.

“Good girl,” he praised, and slowly returned the shower head to your sex.

You flinched again, gasping softly.

He was done a short time after that, and popped the extension back into place.

“Thank you,” he praised, kissing at your hairline.

You almost flinched away, knowing full well how sweaty you were.

“I’m gonna wash you, okay? Keep squeezing me like that,” he instructed sweetly.

Your death grip on his shoulders was pinching at his skin. Though, Hawks didn’t mind at all. He liked that little bit of pain, a reminder that you were still quite strong. You had clung to him out of fear your weak legs would surrender and drag you to the floor. But, it was also nice to feel grounded to him.

After a lather with some body wash that smelt like honey blossoms – something that was clearly not for him - Hawks worked some shampoo through your hair, fingers careful to not accidentally tug on strands. You melted into him, thoroughly enjoying the attention. He was mostly quiet, only speaking to tell you what he was going to do before he did it.

Once the soap was all washed away, you felt sane enough to make a demand.

“Let me wash you.”

“You don’t have to,” he protested weakly.

You pushed away from him carefully, testing how you felt on your own feet. Despite feeling well enough to stand alone, Hawks’ hands didn’t leave you for a second, one resting at your hip while the other was curled behind your back.

“Mhm,” you hummed absently.

Hawks stood there, mostly compliant, while you squirted some bodywash into your palm and started working it over him. It smelt like cedar and spices, and you hoped it would linger on him. He was watching you with a fond expression, though also some amusement, merely because you looked quite cute attending to him like that.

You were also shameless, he realized, for your hands lowered to his crotch, and worked the soap over his soft cock and balls, touching with a bold exploration he didn’t dare allow during ascene. Hawks grunted at the touch, and was half tempted to stop you. But, he found the strength to allow your hands to wander, and calmed himself by delivering a soft warning bite to your ear.

You huffed out a laugh at that.

One large hand reached back and cupped your behind, as if trying to regain some semblance of control.

You laughed softly again, especially when you tilted your head back and caught the pout on his face.

His limit seemed to be his thighs, for when your hands wandered down, he finally stopped you. If not for the gentle look on his face, you would have thought you crossed a line. Maybe you did, somewhat, but it wasn’t enough to prompt him to comment. The last thing he wanted was for you to think you did something wrong.

As the suds washed away, you carefully lathered shampoo into his hair. Pride blossomed inside you when his gold eyes fluttered shut and he seemingly got lost in the moment.

“I gotta wash it out,” you warned a minute or so later.

He kept his eyes closed and hummed in response, letting you push him back under the stream.

Once it was all washed away, Hawks tilted his out away from the water and looked at you, blinking water droplets off his eyelashes. It was then that you realize how awfully tired he looked. Guilt over you like a heavy blanket. As if sensing that, Hawks leaned in and kissed at your temple, willing those feelings away.

You leaned into him and watched the water cascade over his wings. Droplets clung to the surface and glided between the plumes. The muscles on his back flexed faintly as the appendages shifted subtly, and you realized he was moving them beneath the water.

The selfish desire to touch them flashed through you: to carefully weave your hand through the long feathers on the end, to dig your fingers into the baby plumes near his back.

But, you knew better than to dare voice such a desire.

Hawks turned off the showerhead and carefully pushed you away. A few stray feathers floated in through the entryway and dropped a towel over you. Just as you began drying off, you caught the sight of him flexing his wings. He was trying to be subtle; but, inevitably, water droplets flung behind him in a manner far too dramatically for you to miss.

Against your will, you laughed a little. Hawks grabbed the towel and threw it over your head, briefly blinding you. You pulled it away, laughing, and was faced with the sight of him aggressively towel drying his hair. You followed suit, suddenly desperate to get some sleep. Even though you were hopeful, you didn’t want to assume-

“Stay?” he asked, more so a hopeful suggestion.

The look in his eyes whilst asking that question was one of many moments that made you question how he could be so cute, whilst being the same man who tied you up and fucked you into a screaming mess.

“Please,” you replied quietly.

After drying off, Hawks trotted to the closet adjoined to the bathroom. You heard him rummaging through a drawer and followed him in, the towel wrapped around your body. Hawks had carelessly discarded his, leaving you with a great view of his behind, which you of course admired until he turned around.

“I wanted to – uhm,” he mumbled, trailing off as he handed you an outfit.

As you took it, you realized it was a cross-back tank top and shorts, a deep red color. The silk material felt expensive and the stitching was almost invisible.

“-if you’re gonna spend the night after we – I wanted you to be comfortable,” he explained, sounded a little guilty.

“It feels really nice,” you answered.

“…is that okay?” he added on, even as you dropped the towel and started dressing.

You realized, as you pulled the material on, that it wasn’t really erotic at all. The shorts were flowy, but comfortable, clearly intended to be worn without underwear. The top covered your breasts well enough, with a feathery bottom hem. The material was cool against your skin, breathable, and comfortable enough to sleep without bunching.

Hawks stared at you anxiously, that look of guilt not quite leaving his face.

“Super comfy. Thank you,” you answered the unspoken question, smiling at him.

Hawks turned away hastily and hoisted a pair of boxers up his legs.

Before you could walk back to the bedroom, he was pulling you up into his arms, and laughed as you squealed in surprise. It became obvious why when he carefully set you down on the bed and went to clean up the lamp he had broken. He turned on the ceiling light while his feathers scooped up the broken pieces.

You were waiting for him atop the sheets. Teasingly, he pushed you onto your back as he climbed into bed. The ceiling light switched off, casting you in darkness. A glow seeped through the window, the city lights, giving you just enough to be able to make out the faint shape of him beside you.

“You know – if you don’t like it-”

“I didn’t say that,” you interrupted him softly, wiggling beneath the sheets. “Just, don’t go buying me expensive things all the time.”

Hawks huffed in response, disagreeing, and you had a feeling that this wasn’t going to be the end of that.

“Was…” you asked, trailing off as Hawks settled in. He sprawled out on his front, cheek smooshed into a pillow and wings spread out above the sheets.

“…was it good for you?”

Hawks blinked at you, looking a little surprised.

“I mean – worth the wait?” you added on, clearly feeling a little nervous.

“Yeah,” he answered, the word a heavy exhale. “-o’course.”

He reached through the small space between you and nudged your cheek with his knuckles.

“It’s gonna change things. I wasn’t ready for that,” he admitted quietly.

“Nothing has to change, Hawks,” you corrected him softly.

He pulled his hand back, looking a little disappointed at your words.

You were frowning at him, wondering what he could be worried about. His own self control? Maybe yours? That was understandable. New boundaries would have to be made. But, you weren’t exactly afraid of what those changes could be, and you had faith that you and Hawks would figure it out together.

You supposed that would be the end of it; but, then, Hawks was wiggling closer and carefully slid an arm over your waist. His other arm was dragging the pillow beneath his head. It smooshed up against yours, and you would have found that amusing if not for the serious look on his face.

“…I thought – when I heard about the train-” he uttered, words slightly muffled by the pillow.

“I’m okay,” you answered softly.

“I know,” he replied breathlessly.

The room was quiet outside of Hawks’ breathing and the gentle whirling of the ceiling fan.

“Thank you for saving me,” you whispered some time later, wondering if he was still awake.

He was awake, but said nothing. He wanted to bark out a cheery, ‘anytime!’, or crack a joke. However, in that moment, Hawks was struck silent, afraid of the first words that came to his mind. It was too familiar, and a promise he knew he couldn’t keep. It was just lucky that he was on the city, that he knew which train you would be taking. Even if he didn’t always make it obvious, he did pay attention to your schedule.

“I’ll always save you,” was what he wanted to say.

He didn’t.

#hawks x reader #hawks smut #hawks fanfic #takami keigo x reader #keigo takami x reader

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yamiseki · 7 years ago

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Do you still Love me ? if my inside is empty…. and “ Death ” live inside me ………..

[ my old fanart work ヽ(´□｀。)ﾉ 02/2015 ]

#persona 3 #arisato minato #makoto yuki #death #r18-g

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losthomunculus · 3 years ago

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Online Safety Relevant to the Current State of the Internet

On twitter I made a tweet about how online safety lessons in school can be very out of touch but that the advice of people who are familiar with the current internet shouldn't be disregarded. So here's my informal collection of online safety tips

Sources: unrestricted internet access since elementary school (not recommended), being a formerly involuntarily home bound person for several years that amassed way too much online experience

This could possibly hold upsetting reminders to people who had bad experiences online including mentions of grooming and emotional manipulation so please proceed with caution!

Information Sharing

Make an online pseudonym for public profiles and websites.

Don’t feel like you have to list everything about you for the world to see.

Sometimes it’s not a question of “can this information be used to locate and identify me irl?”, but simply “do I want this information publicly available and linked to my online persona?”

Unlike offline, being online leaves a constant trail of who you were accessible at all times. People are constantly growing and changing. Try to limit the information you share so you can ditch that trail and start over if need be.

Sharing information with people you make friends with and trust is a judgement call on your part, but always be on the safe side and be protective of your information.

Start as cautious as possible with online safety. Any risks or judgement calls can come later when you are 1. aware of the risks, 2. ready to address them if they occur, and 3. have gathered plenty of information instead of doing something blindly and hoping for the best.

Do not share your triggers publicly, they can very easily be used against you. Instead use websites with a large amount of filtering options to curate your online experience. If you are going to share them, only do it privately with people you trust.

Importance of Boundaries

It doesn’t matter how mature you are, don’t enter age limited spaces you don’t qualify for. It’s disrespectful to the boundaries of the people who made that space. Boundaries like this exist for the comfort of both sides involved.

Just because you can “handle it” doesn’t mean it’s good for you. Desensitization is not something to brag about.

Venting or making r18 posts as a minor on a public account is VERY dangerous. Intense emotional vulnerability is something manipulators will look for as a way to get to you. The same with sexual jokes to develop your comfort talking about those topics casually and eventually escalating the situation. If you are going to talk about such things please keep that in private conversations with people you trust in your age group.

Note the difference between public and private online space. Tweeting something on a public account is not the same as having a conversation in the cafeteria with your friends.

If an adult tries talking to you about r18, run the other way. Doesn’t matter how cool you are, it says something weird about THEM if they’re willing to talk to a minor about that stuff.

If someone( like 3+ years, honestly depends on how old you are) older than you wouldn't be comfortable saying what they're saying to you in front of other people (like a teacher or guardian), that's suspicious as hell. Run in the other direction.

The younger you are, the more age gaps matter. There's a bigger difference in development between a 13 year old and a 17 year old than there is between a 20 year old and a 24 year old. It helps to try to contextualize it with real people instead of numbers. Instead of thinking "oh just 4 years? that's not that weird" consider "oh. that would be like a freshman (13/14) dating a senior (17/18). yikes."

Be just as wary of people your own age talking about things that make you uncomfortable. Just like irl, sometimes you’ll meet people your age that are hurtful.

Friends complain to each other and talk about their issues, that alone is fine. But when people are doing it without permission, draw a line. When people are making it feel like you’re responsible for maintaining their mental health, you need to draw a line. When it starts to effect your mental health, PLEASE DRAW A LINE! I know it feels like your responsibility sometimes, but it’s not. You cannot be there for others if you’re not taking care of yourself first and foremost.

Don’t be afraid to block people. Even for petty reasons. It’s good to block people. Don’t force yourself to see stuff you don’t want to see.

Being Constantly Online

The 24 hour news cycle is not a good thing to follow 24/7. Taking social responsibility is a good thing, but your brain is NOT built to worry about every issue in the world at once. One strategy I use for staying sane is I try to only check the news once a day, and if something needs more attention to set aside an amount of time I’m going to focus on it before I need to take time to step back.

Touch grass. Not literally, unless you can in which case I highly suggest it, sometimes it’s just good to lay in a field. What I mean is you need to dedicate a good portion of your time to being offline (sleep does not count). What your offline time looks like is going to differ depending on your level of ability, but even if you are house bound it’s important to build some hobbies that don’t rely on the internet. Talking to people offline is also a good goal if possible, even just to your housemates.

Social etiquette greatly differs online and offline and sometimes the reminder that were all just Some People gets lost behind the numbers and the fabricated personas. Keep in mind the difference in how information is shared without forgetting that the fact we are all people remains the same.

Be generous with your etiquette. You will avoid a lot of stress if you conduct yourself with the same politeness you would have in an offline interaction. Master the art of "minding your own business" for your own sake.

Arguments and Competition

As soon as you can, you need to internalize the fact that leaving an argument is not losing.

It is inevitable you will be exposed to many people who disagree with you. Some people only want to argue to rile you up. Sometimes that’s not their intention, but it’s what they’re doing. You do not have to remain in conversation with people, especially if they’re not interested in actually coming to an understanding. Even if they are interested, sometimes they just suck!! Leave!! You can leave!!

On that note, sometimes you are going to get valid criticism and it’s going to hurt. That is part of learning. If someone says you messed up and did something hurtful, take a second to step back from your defensiveness and consider: intent ≠ effect. Apologize, repair what you can, and move forward with the ability to do better in the future. You’re going to mess up every once in awhile, it’s inevitable.

To summarize the past two points: don't waste your time on unnecessary hostility but don't close yourself into an echo chamber either. Debates should be about learning.

Sometimes people are not going to like you. This happens offline too but people tend to be a lot more blunt online. Sometimes people dislike you for no reason or for really petty reasons. That’s not your problem, move on.

Don’t actively seek out people you don’t like or who don’t like you to argue with. Whether or not your side is the “right side” doesn’t matter, it’s going to cause you so much unnecessary stress. Feel free to keep posting your opinions on your own profile but don’t seek out unnecessary conflict.

This is a different type of competition than previously mentioned, but be aware of the danger of comparing yourself to other people. Especially if you’re a creative or student, DO NOT GET SWEPT UP IN THE GRIND CULTURE. It’s more subtle in some places than others, but anytime you see the notion that you should be working yourself to the bone be VERY critical. Also be critical of any online cultures (such as gaming and art communities) that brag about unhealthy habits or act like it’s ~part of the culture~ (ex: all nighters, not taking breaks, getting hurt. Any activity that neglects health to work toward a goal).

Not just grind culture, any community of subculture that shares anti recovery sentiments is a huge red flag. Even if they're joking, it's not worth the risk of internalizing those statements.

Everyone’s social media presence is to some degree doctored because it’s a purposefully selected collection of what they allow you to see. It’s fine to like the persona you see being displayed, but never forget that it is not reflective of the entire person. Everyone online is JUST SOME PERSON. Do not forget that and start holding yourself to a standard you can’t even see every side of.

By posting online you are opening yourself to criticism. Whether or not it’s justified can vary, but either way it’s going to happen. Mute stuff, go private, disable comments, etc if you need to.

Misc Tidbits

these are technically just general info that is also good for offline but I have seen things that make me think people online need the extra reminder.

Learn what cults are, how they recruit, and what they do to their members. I'm not kidding. This is particularly relevant at the moment because of current societal unrest and widespread loneliness. No one is immune to cult propaganda, and not every cult is based on pre established religion or family. Many exist ONLINE and are able to manipulate people without ever meeting face to face. (learn more: Loneliness as a Pandemic: The Dangers of Online Cult

Familiarize yourself with the concept of pseudoscience. Please familiarize yourself with the concept of pseudoscience and then learn how to identify pseudoscience. (learn more: Karl Popper, Science, & Pseudoscience: Crash Course Philosophy #8)

Q. How do I know if a source is reliable?

Final Thoughts

It's important people of ALL ages learn these lessons, because the internet is constantly changing and we are all vulnerable when in the presence of other people.

Be cautious and stay safe

2K notes · View notes

lilietherly · 3 years ago

Text

[Fanfic! Victorianlock]

Relación establecida.

Omegaverse.

Omega John Watson/Alfa Sherlock Holmes.

Bottom John Watson/Top Sherlock Holmes.

Niños Holmes-Watson originales.

Fluff.

Romance.

Smut desvergonzado. R18.

Sí, comenzaré a especificar que incluso siendo mi Watson el Omega, también es bottom; me encontré por ahí una historia en donde pese a ser el Omega, Watson era el Top de Holmes y, después de traumarme, gritar y salirme de esa historia para después llorar por mi tiempo perdido, tomé la razonable decisión de ser aún más específica con esa clase de etiquetado. En fin... Esta historia la escribí con todo mi esfuerzo, amor y aprecio para mi queridísima Alicebaskersville <3 <3, en Wattpad, como regalo por todos y cada uno de sus encantadores comentarios. Oh, y aunque la historia ya tenga título y resumen, debo aclarar que no hay ninguna edición de por medio, así que me disculpo de una vez por los errores que encontrarás. Espero esta historia sea de tu agrado <3 <3 <3

* * *

MOCIÓN ASERTIVA

«De cuantas promesas se han cumplir, imperativo es, por sobre las justificaciones o los contextos, que una de ellas se ejecute siempre hasta las últimas consecuencias».

Esa noche Watson apenas logró dejar de suspirar ante la más relajante atmósfera, emoción acumulada desde el amanecer cuando los planes para el resto del día comenzaron a formarse y, hora tras hora, no hubo mayor retraso o cambio inesperado que pudiese afectar el delicado equilibrio.

Comenzó al despertar entre los fuertes y delgados brazos de su Alfa, Holmes escondía su nariz entre el cabello rubio de Watson, acostado más sobre él que en la cama y cubierto hasta la coronilla de mantas cálidas. El aroma mezclado de ambos hipnotizaba al Omega, lo calmaba como ninguna cosa podría hacerlo. A excepción, claro, del aroma conjunto de su pequeña familia, una adición que involucraba un trío de cachorros enérgicos y traviesos, mismos que interrumpieron los besos suaves del detective deliciosamente encaminados a su cuello y, quizá, hacia el sendero de sus clavículas.

Kendall junto a Paris prepararon el desayuno, con un poco de ayuda de la abuela Hudson el desastre no pasó a mayores, comieron a la mesa disfrutando de una charla amodorrada, estallidos repentinos de risas y miradas de agradecimiento, diversión, amor. Por la tarde, vestidos adecuadamente, aprovechando el buen clima, la propuesta de una visita al Regent’s Park obtuvo un buen visto general.

Desde hacía un tiempo Watson había perdido parte del decoro aprendido como Omega Sangre Pura y el modo en que debería comportarse: elegante, orgulloso, inmaculado en todo sentido. Jamás, jugando con sus cachorros y su Alfa, encontró o encontraría razón para arrepentirse, para negar la diversión de perseguir, ensuciarse o hacer el ridículo absoluto. ¿Y la mirada tan clara de alegría en el rostro de su detective y sus niños? Indudablemente, Watson no enseñaría ninguna de esas reglas absurdas a su único cachorro Omega, Virgil.

Sin embargo, de no ser por su estatus de Sangre Pura, ni a Watson ni a su encantadora manada los hubieran recibido en el pequeño café, donde se detuvieron antes de regresar a casa para lavarse el lodo y reparar el zapato de Paris, cuya suela no resistió un accidental tropiezo. Nunca el café o los bocadillos llenaron tanto al alma como el corazón. Incluso los regaños de la señora Hudson sobre los rastros de tierra se antojaron dulces.

Dos baños para cinco personas fueron un problema incluso cuando solo eran tres. Pese a ello, tras una planeación hecha con toda la seriedad, cierto equilibrio se encontró una vez Kendall y Paris aprendieron a bañarse sin ayuda. Al terminar ellos, Holmes tomó su turno para bañar a Virgil, ocupándose Watson de su propia persona. Grande fue la sorpresa del doctor al advertir la puerta abriéndose y dando paso a un Holmes muy preocupado de haberlo alcanzado demasiado tarde. Sonrieron como si se tratara de la primera vez que se encontraron desnudos uno frente al otro.

Las cosas se desarrollaron lentamente, Watson, casi terminando, retiró de la piel de su esposo cada mancha que resistió antes los pañuelos o que atravesó las capas de ropa. A falta de palabras, conforme los besos pausados acrecentaban se ampliaba también el camino de sus manos; la atmósfera adquiría tenues peticiones de necesitar más. Holmes acarició a su Omega en la espalda baja, Watson no podía disminuir el ritmo de sus labios. Un grito agudo proveniente de la sala los detuvo. Resistieron con honores la interrupción y cualquier intención en el ascenso de sus caricias.

Virgil, el pequeño manipulador Omega Sangre Impura, orgullo de su padre y constante preocupación de su madre, tenía a cada Alfa en el 221B bailando alrededor de su delicado meñique. Aprovechando el impulso sobreprotector y la necesidad casi innata de un Alfa para hacer feliz a un Omega, el menor de los Holmes-Watson encontraba en la atención de sus hermanos mayores una gran fuente de diversión, disfrutando verlos pelearse por quién atendía sus caprichos con la mayor prontitud al liberar su aroma y hacer lucir aquellos grandes ojos grises. Holmes aprendió a resistirse en una buena parte de las veces, no así Kendall o Paris, cuyos jóvenes lados Alfa se hacían, conforme maduraban, débiles y confusos al aroma Omega.

Watson recordaba las ocasiones en que su simple esencia bastó para recibir elogios o regalos cuando niño. Al principio iba de maravilla, tarde aprendió que su aroma podía ser la causa de que Alfas y Betas hicieran cosas indecibles si llegaran a obsesionarse con el aroma de un Omega en específico. Puede que dentro de casa Virgil estuviera seguro, cosa diferente sería una vez comenzara a salir sin la compañía de sus padres o hermanos. El doctor resolvió el tema de “la galleta que Virgil escoja será el ganador” tan pronto se hubo enjuagado y medianamente secado, tomó en brazos a su cachorro siendo perseguido y devolvió las galletas robadas a la señora Hudson. Holmes los hizo disculparse y ambos tuvieron un relativo silencio mientras se cambiaban. Sus miradas pedían algo que no les sería posible entregar en ese momento.

Lo único planeado ese día era hacer uso de los boletos para el ballet que el último cliente de Holmes les dio junto al pago. Así pues, luego de una comida ligera y haber vestido con sus mejores galas a los cachorros, partieron. Ni Watson ni Holmes tenían alguna esperanza de poder apreciar el espectáculo en su totalidad tomando en cuenta la presencia de los menores, ambos habrían acordado dar los boletos extra a alguien más de no ser por el entusiasmo del cliente de ver a la familia entera en su espectáculo, ocupando uno de los palcos. Los niños, a su vez, hubieran elegido también quedarse en casa y jugar, a pasar el tiempo en algo tan aburrido.

Virgil y Paris, una vez los adultos ocuparon su lugar, lograron dar veinte o treinta vueltas alrededor de los asientos, Kendall se les unió en las últimas cinco gritando por un poco de compostura —que en la mayoría de los casos él podía guardar solo un par de minutos—, hacia el final y a punto de comenzar la escena, los tres tomaron sus respectivos lugares en la fila de adelante. Holmes y Watson justo detrás, vigilando. Kendall y Paris cayeron dormidos luego de la primera media hora; Virgil no alcanzó ni la mitad de ese tiempo, sus padres disfrutaron del espectáculo… Al menos lo suficiente, pues a falta de mayores interrupciones, uno u otro rompía los cortos lapsos de concentración dando o pidiendo besos suaves y caricias delicadas.

Al iniciar la pausa en la representación que ninguno logró advertir, Holmes logró separarse de su Omega un segundo antes de que la cortina en la entrada del palco se abriera de par en par, anunciando al director de la escena y último cliente. Fingiendo saber de lo que el hombre hablaba, Watson se unió al detective en la plática, soportaron honorablemente hasta el final de la pausa. Los niños despertaron a tiempo para agradecerle al director el estar ahí, usando las dotes de actuación que tan bien aprendían de su padre el hombre se retiró con una brillante sonrisa en el rostro. Watson, orgulloso de sus educados cachorros, se preocupó a la vez de los buenos mentirosos que se acercaban a ser.

—Lo hicieron por él, mon ange —susurró Holmes sosteniendo la mano de su esposo, quien besándole en los nudillos, asintió.

El resto de la función avanzó como debió ser la primera parte, los cinco atendieron a los bailarines, la música los envolvió, el tranquilo aroma en el aire los colocó pronto en sintonía. Los menores hablaban entre sí, murmurando cómplices, pronto mucho más entretenidos en su propia platica. Watson y Holmes dividían su atención entre ellos y los bailarines.

El coche alquilado que los llevó, los recogió puntualmente. Los cachorros, por supuesto, no resistieron el aburrimiento, Holmes salió cargando a Virgil en un brazo y sosteniendo de la mano a un aletargado Kendall, cuyo cansancio se reflejaba al dar ninguna negativa a que su padre lo guiara de esa forma. Watson aseguraba entre ambos brazos a Paris, los delgados brazos del niño abrazándolo del cuello. Sentados dentro del coche, frente a su Omega, el detective aseguró a sus hijos contra su costado y pecho, el doctor, en cambio, recostó el cuerpo de Paris en los asientos a su lado permitiéndole así sostener en su regazo la preciada cabecita de cabello rubio.

Watson suspiró por décima tercera vez al mirar a su Alfa, sonrió al recordar el maravilloso día, semana, año. Sonrió al pensar en lo que se convirtió su vida. Besando las frentes de sus cachorros Holmes le devolvió la mirada a su Omega, reflejando al instante el gesto de los labios delgados y notablemente rosas, aun a pesar de la oscuridad en la cabina. Observó atento el brillo en los ojos verdes, las preciosas manos dando suaves caricias entre las hebras del cabello de Paris, admiró el saludable color en esa piel. Nada habría en el mundo que detuviera su felicidad, Holmes aún no podía creer que él mismo había contribuido en la creación de ese hermoso hombre, su precioso Watson.

Se estudiaron largamente, como si el tiempo les perteneciera o no tuvieran misión más importante. Un tiempo incontable después sus ojos se encontraron: avergonzados tal como si se tratara de la primera vez que les parecían tan claros los pensamientos del otro, dirigieron su atención a las ventanas. Una risa se les escapó tres segundos después. Agitados aunque sin despertar, los menores reaccionaron a sus aromas, acurrucándose contra sus padres y liberando sus perfumes. Llegaron a casa rodeados del dulce aroma combinado de su pequeña manada.

Con los tres cachorros dormidos tuvieron un par de problemas al bajar. Watson se apresuró a salir, preocupado por el clima frío. Subió rápidamente al tercer piso, acostando a Paris sobre las mantas bajó apresurado de vuelta al coche. Liberó a Holmes de Kendall, atrayéndolo hacia él sostuvo al pequeño de doce años, a la misma velocidad entró al 221B, luego de unos minutos sus cachorros fueron acostados en sus respectivas camas; Kendall en su propio dormitorio —el que le perteneció una vez a Watson—, Virgil y Paris en la habitación de enfrente. Incluso con la rutina de una década completa, como si se tratara de un baile a la perfección coordinado, Holmes y Watson tardaron al menos media hora en quitar zapatos, poner la ropa de dormir a sus niños y cubrirlos bajo las mantas.

Watson, en tanto terminaba de cubrir a Paris, se sintió observado. Holmes, de pie en el arco de la puerta, lo estudiaba con atención. Sus brazos y piernas cruzadas no alcanzaban a cubrir el obvio interés plasmado en sus brillantes ojos grises. El Omega recordó aquella mañana, el baño de la tarde y los besos de hace un par de horas, recordó la promesa, el calor de su corazón acelerado. Tras besar a Paris en la frente salió despacio de la habitación, caminando de la mano de Holmes a través del pasillo. Preguntándose si podría volver a construir la sutil atmósfera de las escenas anteriores llegaron a la sala.

Se trataba de una cuestión inútil, lo sabía, cuando su Alfa lo abrazó desde atrás, cerrando la puerta sin hacer ruido, Watson se giró y lo miró a los ojos, se sonrieron. Sus corazones latían juntos, sus aromas perfumaban el aire, cada liviana sensación, la tranquilidad, el cariño, resonaban y se compartían a través del lazo que unía sus almas. El Omega enterró la nariz en la base del cuello de su detective, inhalando despacio la fuente de su paz y el amor que nunca pensó tener en su vida antes o después de la guerra. Nada lejos de una simple insinuación de su deseo faltaba para retomar cualquier atmósfera.

—¿Quieres intentarlo de nuevo? —murmuró Holmes contra el oído de Watson mientras lo sostenía de la cintura y comenzaban sus manos a acariciarlo por sobre la ropa. Advirtió un claro estremecimiento sacudiendo a su Omega, una oleada de aroma dulce y provocador alcanzó su agudo olfato al instante. Lo inhaló profundamente, incapaz de resistir. Desde la primera ocasión no había logrado hacer algo contra el encanto de ese perfume, incluso si lo intentó, su voluntad, mente y corazón jamás lo habrían conseguido.

—Tenemos dos o tres horas antes de que los niños pidan su cena, no quiero solo intentarlo —dijo Watson como toda respuesta, girándose comenzó a abrir los botones del saco y el chaleco de su esposo.

Holmes no se mantuvo estático, imitando las acciones de Watson los guio despacio a la habitación. Alcanzando la puerta y cerrándola detrás de ellos, sus pechos estaban desnudos. Con los tirantes de los pantalones abajo, el Alfa se deshizo fácilmente de toda prenda inferior en su Omega, hincándose para quitarle también los zapatos sostuvo a Watson contra la puerta. Una bonita y descuidada polla se levantaba frente a su rostro, erguida y llorosa, lista para el abrazo de sus labios. No se resistió a la invitación, uñas se clavaron en su cuero cabelludo al lamer la dolorida punta.

El sabor explotó en sus labios, excitando su propio hedonismo. Los gemidos ahogados de su Watson alcanzaron pronto sus oídos, indicándole —aún sin ninguna falta en ese punto de sus vidas—, lo que debería hacer. Jugó su lengua con el tronco duro, deteniéndose a momentos en el frenillo, el sensible saco de los testículos, subiendo y bajando entre el glande y la uretra. Puede que los Omegas masculinos no tuvieran la misma sensibilidad en sus pollas como en sus culos, ello aún hacía posible que Watson disfrutara de una mamada sublime.

—Sher… Oh, Sherlock… —Y su Watson disfrutaba mucho. Holmes aprovechó que se limitaba al uso de su boca para buscar con sus manos la abandonada ropa interior del Omega. Limpió suavemente los primeros rastros del lubricante natural—. Todavía es… vergonzoso… cuando haces eso. —A modo de respuesta, Holmes tomó su verga hasta la base, hundiendo la nariz aguileña en el nido de suaves rizos de cobre. Watson gritó, sujetándose por su vida a la puerta y el hombro derecho del Alfa.

Controlando su respiración, Holmes continuó devorando la celestial polla. Usó la mano izquierda para descubrir el músculo húmedo entre las nalgas de su doctor, la derecha acarició la sensible zona. Lo tocó delicadamente, rodeando el anillo esparció de manera eficiente el lubricante, enfocó sus labios en hacer succión alrededor de la corona antes de atravesar la cálida abertura. Se estremeció tanto como Watson, el placer puro viajando a través de sus almas unidas incrementaba a cada paso, los golpeaba en las zonas correctas; Holmes casi podría decir que sentía la presión de ese músculo abrazando su polla.

Envolviendo de nuevo el tronco de su Omega, Holmes reinició el vaivén a través de la longitud. El lubricante ya dibujaba ríos espesos a lo largo de su palma y muñeca, provocaba, incluso por encima del manjar en su boca, la sobreproducción de saliva. Liberando el glúteo de su Omega limpió su mano izquierda los hilos de lubricante en la derecha, humedecida su palma ciñó la verga de Watson, pintándola tan rápidamente como su hambre insoportable lo permitía. La lubricación fusionada al sabor del presemen, al regresar su lengua ávida, hizo doler su erección todavía encerrada en sus pantalones.

Al advertir que Watson se acostumbró a los falanges en su interior, Holmes comenzó a abrirlo. Provocó las paredes cálidas, estimuladas por la excitación y el lubricante, llevó sus dedos en todas direcciones evitando la próstata y la glándula que abría el camino hacia el útero del Omega. Aun así, una mirada a Watson bastó para saberlo al borde del orgasmo, sus rodillas temblaban, él realmente se esforzaba por contenerlo. Holmes sonrió, orgulloso de ser el único alfa en tener la oportunidad de observar a Watson estremeciéndose, cediendo tan libremente a la lujuria.

—Vamos, John, hazlo… quiero que termines en mi boca, ma belle lumière —susurró Holmes contra el glande hinchado, teñido de un profundo rosa.

—N-no.

—¿No? —Provocado por la negativa, Holmes atacó directo a las sensibles glándulas. Nadie podría llamarlo una tortura si Watson reaccionó gritando y meciendo sus caderas al rimo de los dedos del Alfa.

Lo sorprendió, no obstante, la caída sin gracia de su Omega, quien luego de tal arremetida perdió la fuerza de sus piernas, derrumbándose en el regazo de Holmes, una pierna a cada lado, sin detener o siquiera hacer algo en contra de las feroces envestidas. Holmes conocía las reglas, conocía el cuerpo de su Omega, cada reacción de cada centímetro en él; no se habría detenido incluso si Watson le gritara entre gemidos que lo hiciera. Ya que no lo hizo, y lo que es más, abrazó su cuello evitando perder el embate de sus dedos, menos todavía se detuvo.

—Adentro… Por favor, querido, he estado esperándote desde el amanecer. Te lo ruego, no me hagas terminar así. —Holmes se detuvo paulatinamente. Al abandonar el estrecho pasaje lamió el dulce lubricante, limpia su mano se abrazó con firmeza a la cintura de su doctor. Le besó en las mejillas y en los labios.

—Douceur de ma vie, mi preciosismo Omega, ¿de qué manera podría negarme a darte lo que me pides? —Entredicho quedaba que él también sufrió el detener sus avances en cada oportunidad de hacerlo a lo largo del día y que nada lo detendría ahora.

Holmes sujetó entonces los muslos de Watson, abrazándolo, los llevó entre besos a la cama. Habiendo admirado mil veces antes el modo en que su Omega lucía acostado sobre las mantas, con su cabello alborotado y apuntando en todas direcciones creando una suerte de halo hecho de trigo y miel, con su perfume irradiando de cada glándula en las muñecas, el cuello y su perineo; y la delgada pátina de sudor, la verga dura, el aroma de la lujuria, un par de piernas abiertas en ofrecimiento impúdico. Obligaba tal deidad a entregar su libre albedrío, rendir pleitesía y someterse a sus deseos. Provocaba Watson, como ocurrió desde el primer día, la liberación de su lado Alfa.

—Ven a mí, cariño, quiero sentirte.

Sin dudarlo un segundo, Holmes se dejó guiar por el hermoso canto. Arrancándose los zapatos, quizá rompiendo algunas costuras de sus pantalones y calcetines, se desnudó completamente. Apenas lograba separar su atención de la entrada palpitante y lubricada de su Omega, que usaba una mano para acariciarse el borde tembloroso, manchados sus propios dedos señaló con ellos a Holmes.

El detective los introdujo en su boca ni un instante después, creó succión a su alrededor mientras aprovechaba la memoria de sus músculos para inclinarse lo suficiente y alcanzar el apretado anillo de Watson. ¿Cómo es que aún luego de tres cachorros y sin cometer el descuido de abandonar tales voluptuosas prácticas una semana entera, su cuerpo se mantenía igual de receptivo que la primera vez? Holmes no lo entendía, y ciertamente no le importaba de verdad entenderlo. Hundiendo su rígida verga en la vaina de su Omega, nada de eso importó.

El calor que irradiaba el abrazo en su carne le erizó la piel, sus aromas fusionados doblegaron a sus sentidos, la conexión de sus almas lo complacía a un punto solo en ese escenario alcanzado. Los tiernos mimos de las manos del que sostenía su corazón lo tomó por completo. Colocando las rodillas justo por debajo y a los costados del ostentoso culo de su Omega, Holmes inició un lento vaivén. Watson le enterró las uñas en el cuero cabelludo al tiempo en que sus bocas se encontraron.

—Siempre… —murmuraba Watson con voz entrecortada y jadeante—… siempre me llenas tan bien, Alfa. —Y Holmes, que amaba verlo luchar por hallar las palabras correctas, aumentó repentinamente la velocidad de sus estocadas, no hubo centímetro de su verga que renegara de la decisión—. ¡Nhg! Sherl… ¡Oh, Sher…! —Holmes redujo el movimiento, casi deteniéndose. En aquel eterno instante se ganó un par de rasguños en los hombros y brazos—. Ti-tienes, ¡ah!, tienes suerte de que te ame tanto…

—¿No permitirías tal burla de ningún otro Alfa? —Se burló Holmes, su aliento no mucho mejor al de su Omega, sus brazos sosteniéndolo a los lados de Watson temblaban, no por falta de fuerza, sino gracias a la emoción que circulaba sobre y debajo de su piel—. Esa amenaza, John, creí que la habías olvidado hace mucho.

Holmes impidió de nueva cuenta la respuesta inmediata de su doctor. Sentándose sobre sus talones, afirmando entre sus manos la polla y el saco de su Omega, procedió a masturbarlo aceleradamente. Imitaron sus caderas la rapidez, el lubricante de Watson cubrió sus testículos, creando un charco en las mantas arrugadas. El sonido de los golpes apresurados y los gemidos de su doctor colmó los oídos del Alfa, le erizó la piel. Poco hizo falta para hacerle perder el juego y limitarse a alcanzar el clímax. Se detuvo un segundo antes, el agujero de Watson pulsaba a su alrededor.

—No… No es una amenaza —dijo Watson colocando su mano alrededor de la de Holmes en su polla, impidiéndole retirarse—. Oh, Sherlock… Ambos sabemos que solo necesito un gesto para que tomes y me hagas terminar todas las veces que lo desee. —El Holmes de hace trece años se habría opuesto completamente a esa idea, vociferando y protestando al control ejercido contra las debilidades físicas de los Alfas hacia los Omegas; esta noche, Holmes sonrió al escucharlo, aceptando sin ninguna culpa la afirmación de su esposo.

Decía la verdad, aunque Holmes cedió y cedería de tal manera a nadie más que a Watson.

—Del mismo modo en que puedo hacerte gotear sin el menor contacto —gruñó Holmes, Watson no tardó en asentir. Usando su mano libre el Alfa amplió la separación de los muslos de su Omega, la agudeza del dolor al forzarlo aumentaría su placer—. ¿Quieres decir que he vivido amenazado sin ningún motivo?

—N-no es una amenaza… nunca…

—Ahora, cher… sabes que no voy a detenerme.

—Esta, esta bien, ¡mmm, continúa! D-decía… —Holmes sonrió. Maravillado nuevamente por la voluntad de su Watson aumentó las estocadas, sin planear detenerse lo hizo despacio, mantuvo el ritmo en ascenso, a un punto en que sus propios pensamientos no distaban demasiado del cálido abrazo conteniendo su verga—. Nunca hubiera, ¡ah!, permitido que ningún Alfa se burle así de mi porque… ¡nhg, Sherl…!, porque te habría molestado saber que he rogado por la polla de alguien más, aún antes de conocernos. —En un latido Holmes estuvo de regreso sobre Watson. Resoplando y masturbándolo ferozmente.

—Nunca le has rogado a nadie —aseguró, acelerando salvajemente sus estocadas. El orgasmo acechando sus espaldas.

—¡N-no! ¡Sherlock… sí, sí, más! Dame, dame…

—He sido el único, Omega. —Watson asintió, incontrolable. Sus manos agitadas se aferraron a los hombros de Holmes, clavándole las uñas.

—El único, nadie… Nunca… Por otro…

—¡Oh, Watson! Lumière de ma vie, justo cuando creo que estoy a punto de descifrarte.

Y si trece años no resultaban suficientes, el resto de su vida, con mucho esfuerzo, Holmes podría entender la complejidad de su amado. Esta noche, sin embargo, dada la información inesperada que a su Holmes de hace tanto no habría complacido como ahora, ya ningún motivo guardaba para jugar. El apretado anillo de su Omega, el contacto de sus pieles, el sudor, el sabor, el perfume del sexo que provocaba a su instinto; lo empujó al camino correcto.

—Hazlo entonces, Sherlock… deja tus burlas y tómame.

Holmes gruñó en respuesta, salió del estrecho canal, sujetando aún las piernas de Watson le dio la vuelta. Colocado Watson de rodillas se sumergió en su interior tan pronto como pudo. Quizá el agarre de sus dedos en las caderas del Omega crearía marcas, al momento en que reinició los feroces empujes cualquier emoción ajena fue borrada de sus pensamientos.

—Debes saber, John… te haré rogar con mayor frecuencia.

—¿Aun más que una de cada… tres veces… que lo hacemos? —Holmes gruñó de nuevo, resoplando al descubrir en cada estocada la receptiva forma en que Watson se abría para él. Puede que su mente se concentrara en la lujuria alimentada por el cuerpo lascivo y obsceno de su Omega, le restaba al parecer lo necesario para comprender que Watson no rechazaría sus planes. Las palabras siguientes, pese al entrecortado aliento y la interrupción de las embestidas, lo confirmaron—. Quiero… que lo intentes… Alfa, te gusta hacerme rendir, así que prometo, fortalecer mi, mi voluntad para rechazarte y… ¡Ah, sí, sí, dios!... y no rogar por, ¡oh, Sherlock, sí!, ¡tú increíble polla!

Lejos de pretender contenerlo, Holmes se permitió ceder a sus instintos, que luego de ser refrenados toda su vida, aun en la constante presencia de su Watson y la aceptación abierta a que los liberara, al hacerse uno con su lado Alfa el detective se convertía en lo que una vez rechazó. Posesividad feroz, la asertividad de dar placer a su Omega para aumentar las probabilidades de embarazarlo.

Perforó el apretado agujero del Omega en embates fúricos. Cayendo sobre su espalda, empujando los hombros de Watson hacia las mantas, clavó los dientes romos en su nuca, acorralando también sus muñecas por sobre sus hombros. El Alfa gruñó al reconocer la inmediata relajación del Omega, disminuyeron incluso el volumen de sus gemidos, nada lejos de pequeños sollozos, casi dulces maullidos, se escucharon por debajo de los apresurados golpes contra su culo empapado. No obstante, aumentó el brillo en los ojos verdes, el deleite en los gestos y el canal ya antes ajustado, se aferraba en cada ataque de la polla de Holmes con aún menos deseos de dejarlo ir.

Negándose a reducir la velocidad al advertir los estremecimientos de su Omega, Holmes afirmó salvajemente su dominio aumentado el descontrolado vaivén, ciñendo las muñecas sin permitirle ningún movimiento e imprimiendo mayor brío en la sujeción de la piel entre sus dientes. Degustando la primera prueba de sangre sintió a Watson llegar al clímax, un maullido silencioso y necesitado se escapó de su boca abierta. El aroma de su eyaculación evocó primitivas emociones en Holmes, que permitió a la entrada goteante y hambrienta exprimir su polla.

El orgasmo hizo temblar al detective, soltando gemidos animales sobre la nuca lacerada e imprimiendo sus dedos en el Omega, vertió cálido esperma directo en el canal hacia el útero de Watson. Espasmos de espesa lujuria los sacudieron durante un par de minutos; juntos disfrutaron la recompensa del buen trabajo, del regalo que dios y la madre naturaleza les otorgaban en gratitud del intento de prevalecer la especie. Holmes nunca se detuvo, aunque débiles e interrumpidos, sus golpes contra el culo resbaladizo y untuoso de su Omega continuaron hasta no sentir que la última gota de semen fue abandonada dentro de su esposo.

Watson dio la señal de encontrarse satisfecho al relajarse alrededor de Holmes, este, recibiendo instintivamente el mensaje, separó sus dientes y le liberó las muñecas. Los pensamientos claros volvían segundo a segundo. Recordó que, si bien Watson aún era fértil, las posibilidades de tener otro cachorro se acercaban mucho a cero, se dijo que pese a ser Watson un Omega, sus habilidades para luchar a puño limpio contra un par de Alfas superaban por mucho la expectativa del Omega promedio que espera a ser protegido. Al final, rodeando la cintura de Watson, los llevó a caer de lado sobre las mantas, junto al espeso charco de lubricante y semen.

Carentes aún del control en sus respiraciones se limitaron a acurrucarse el uno contra el otro. Holmes lamió la marca de sus dientes y las tres o cuatro gotas escarlatas que lograron escapar de la nuca del Omega, su saliva repararía el daño de inmediato. Su polla disminuía la erección al ritmo de sus alientos, y si bien no se hinchó lo suficiente para anclarse, seguro que le tomaría un tiempo antes de salir.

—Valió esperar todo el día para esto —dijo Watson con la voz rota, tomando un brazo de su Alfa elevó la mano en dirección a su boca y lo besó en los nudillos, tras lo cual entrelazaron sus dedos—. Siempre haces que valga la pena, mi amor.

—Contigo, ma lumière solaire, no hay manera en que sea diferente —le susurró Holmes al oído, mordiéndole juguetonamente en el lóbulo—. Y hablaba en serio, John, prometí hacerte rogar con mayor frecuencia y eso es lo que haré. —La primera respuesta de Watson fue apretarse de nuevo a su alrededor. A Holmes se le escapó un gemido ronco.

—Por favor, querido, no hagas esa clase de promesas cuando nuestro tiempo es limitado. —Sonriente, el Alfa aumentó la presión de su abrazo. Watson giró su rostro para mordisquear y lamerle el cuello—. Sin embargo, como he dicho, aguardaré impaciente hasta la próxima ocasión.

Ambos se sonrieron, una promesa así les hacía anhelar por el futuro. Sellando el pacto con un beso retomaron sus lugares. Conscientes de que ambos lo harían cumplir.

—¿Escuché abrirse la puerta de Ken? —preguntó Watson, levantándose tanto como pudo estando todavía unido a Holmes.

—Es la de Paris, sabes que incluso en una siesta debe levantarse al baño.

—¿Y por qué no escucho los pasos?

—¿Sordera postorgasmica? —Watson soltó una risa por la idea ridícula, Holmes le acompañó de inmediato.

—Si se trata de Virgil, no tardará en venir aquí y pedir su cena, ni siquiera le hemos dicho a Margaret que prepare algo.

—¿Tal vez Ken se levantó descalzo?

—¿Cómo es que estás tan relajado? —Holmes sonrió despacio, acercó su nariz al cuello y la mejilla de su doctor, comenzó a acariciarse contra él.

—Mi pene aún está dentro tuyo, el lugar más cálido y apretado, hueles a mí, portas la marca de mis dientes, tuvimos un orgasmo espectacular y las puertas están aseguradas, ¿por qué habría de preocuparme si uno de nuestros cachorros nos llama? —Watson, sin quererlo, se relajó entre los brazos de su Alfa, Holmes disfrutó su rendición.

—Tienes las respuestas para todo.

—No para todo y, sin embargo, me amas. —Mientras Watson asentía la puerta de arriba se cerró.

—Sí, te amo.

Así, abrazados, disfrutando de la emoción que enviaban y recibían a través del lazo que unía sus almas, esperaron. La noche aún no terminaba.

* * *

Traducción.

Ma belle lumière: Mi hermosa luz.

Douceaur de ma vie: Dulzura de mi vida.

Cher: Querido.

Lumière de ma vie: Luz de mi vida.

Ma lumière solaire: Mi luz de sol.

¡Terminado! O casi, si no considerara que la edición es más de la mitad del trabajo ¬¬Uuu... Bueno, por ahora es todo, me forzaré a completarlo como es debido y luego podré celebrar. Por otro lado, mi dulce corazón, tu no tienes que ocuparte de eso :D, así que solo dime ¿qué te pareció? Omitiendo las fallas de ortografía, espero que te haya gustado y, especialmente, hayas disfrutado de ese smut ¬w¬ Yo me despido por ahora, ¡hay tanto por escribir y tan poco tiempo! Por favor, cariño, déjame leerte pronto... Ciao. ¡Te amo!

#victorian johnlock #john watson #sherlock holmes #omegaverse #fanfic en español #omega/alpha #Omega John Watson #Alpha Sherlock Holmes #acd holmes #acd canon #holmes/watson #smut #shameless smut

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elnierah · 5 years ago

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Chapters: 2/2 ( Persona 5 )

Rating: Explicit

Yusuke x Akira ( Persona 5 Protag ) KitaShu

Summary: The day before Yusuke’s birthday, Akira catches up with his best friend, Ann. He confesses he is unable to find a gift for his lover and laments over his lack of preparation. She tries to lend her aid and cheer him up until a devilish idea flourishes in her mind. Confused by her smirk, Akira questions her, only to receive a suggestion he never considered; - A steamy night of passionate sex, clad in alluring lingerie.

Reluctantly, he agrees to give it a chance.

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Yusuke’s birthday is finally here, at least, in Australia!

Just like promised, I wrote an R18 Birthday fic as a bonus and to make up for my hiatus in November. I hope you all enjoy! ( ˘ ³˘)♥

PS: Had to use this gif too, sorry! <3

#kitashu #shukita #persona 5 #p5 #ao3fic #ao3 link #persona 5 yusuke #yusuke kitagawa #Yusuke's birthday

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fgodestinyawakenings · 6 years ago

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EOR SE.RA.PH Singularity: Final Act~END

At last the final part of this whole Singularity Chapter 1.5! It’s considered canon in ways but..... Why can’t DW just turn this to an actual main story chapter instead of that coming hell Singularity.... Sure it has about the same reason, but... Nevermind, time to finish this CCC collab

Final Act (1/5)

Inside BB’s studio at last, the final boss of this entire Singularity, or is it? With Tristan’s push, Gudas began their interrogation at BB for answer we’ve been waiting for. Suzuka totally not sorry while she apologize for siding with Gudas after betraying her. Tama Cat began going around on her own to inspect the whole area... Along with Lip, deciding to tell off her stupid mother once and for all

Don’t even fake your surprise when you knew Lip will betray you eventually. Aside from her R18 mouth, we’re starting our fight with her! Obviously we’re fighting until our death since our way in is our way out. And you probably locked it to ensure we get torture to death... So bring it on, AI!

<<NOT SCREENSHOT>>

One beating from Saint Martha later.... Someone looks damn cheerful for getting defeated as a villain. Yeah... And a blackout?! What the? Suzuka, everyone!!

After blocking an ambush... We’re in a place... With all those children inside the casket?! What the hell is going on here?!?!?!?!! This is similar to Chaldea with the coffin but.... So many....

Suzuka instantly realized the children’s magical circuits are what powering SE.RA.PH this whole time. All 128 children used as decoy Masters to summon the Servants. Emiya Alter then shows up.... So it’s finally here we know what Seraphix really is

Final Act (2/5)

The Celestial Body Simulator, System Animusphere aka the Heart of Seraphix..... Young children taken and immediately used by Seraphix and later Zepar to summon all 128 Servants. Children that’s already gone has their body used to power up Seraphix.

Must admit, I’m thankful to Emiya Alter for at least giving these children’s soul to rest in peace after a long suffering. And now that we know.... Emiya Alter corroded by some darkness is coming after the Gudas’s life as they are no longer needed.

While declaring his motive, another voice summarized his motive for us... But.... Robin! You’re alright?! Don’t ask us what the hell happened to Emiya Alter, help us now!! Save your reminsince banter with Lip for later!

After... After beatng Emiya Alter.... He...... He’s still trying to do what’s right........ What the fuck, Mable?! What the fuck are you doing here?!!! Where the hell were you and Arnold!!

What do you mean by that? We don’t even want to fight him in the first place! And Tama Cat? As she realized what’s beneath under Mable’s persona... A member of Tachikawa School of Buddishm? Her? Who is she?! What’s going on, Cat?!

Complying easily to remove her mask... “Mable” then undisguised her to reveal... A Buddhist nun? Wait, you’re the therapist for the church here?!! Kiara then reveals she’s the one who worked with Zepar. But she’s not a Demon God or anything... A human? No... So you say.... You worked together with Zepar.... But You’re..... BEAST III, one of the Seven Evils of Humanity: The Beast of Pleasure!!!!

Final Act (3/5)

Beast.... III.... A Beast..... The third Evil of Humanity....?! Kiara then reveals how she became one in a way... Where our Kiara was another victim of Zepar to be killed instead of CCC Kiara’s history.

So she’s the one Zepar made in contact with but... Because of that, that’s why the whole of Seraphix become a human body. Despite lamenting her pain, someone had one hell of lustful face. Robin managed to snap Guda out from Kiara and questioned if she was the one who summoned BB

Kiara confirmed it with Zepar teaching her of parallel world, eventually knowing CCC’s Kiara herself and the history. Because of what she achieved, the Kiara we know is merged with CCC’s Kiara. So from Lip’s summary, instead of digitizing Seraphix... He used Kiara to give SE.RA.PH a form

While Kiara tried to stop him, she no doubt failed since it was human against a demon god pillar. CCC’s version of Kiara swallowed all of the Sakuraface from Lip’s memory, hence they became sentinel from there. Although Zepar managed to convert Seraphix, Kiara then made use of BB and Gudas to run it.

....... Even saying she’s grateful and giving her gratitude for tryng to save Seraphix, that fake applause isn’t buying anyone here. Suzuka then stepped forward, knowing everything she said so far are lies or half-truth instead.

Demanding she confess, Suzuka asked where’s Zepar current location, how many Servants she swallowed as her body and Seraphix are one. Or... She’s the one who tricked every Master to come here in hopes getting their wishes come true!!

Not even guilty that she killed all the Servants.... Kiara even admits in pleasure of the killings she did on the Masters too. Robin was even surprised that BB never said, while both Suzuka and Gudas shows disgust at what she done. Good saying there, Robin! That’s something we agree no doubt, we definitely cannot let Kiara live this point onward!!

There’s a difference between patient and a sense morality, Gudas may have same or not amount of patience as you... But their sense of morality is completely way different than yours!! Suzuka immediately unleashed her Noble Phantasm at her, along with Tama Cat.

But... What the hell?! As Kiara disappeared, Seraphix hit the seabed... No we’re going all the way to the Earth’s Core?!!?!?! So that’s her plan all along?! Kiara’s voice revealed further of how she’ll use Earth to save all of humanity.... And, the place soon changes to her lair where Kiara’s true form is shown.

Not even thinking of giving up, Tristan’s threat is even useless to her to make her stop SE.RA.PH from sinking further. She merely smirked to say we can easily be defeated since we’re at the palm of her hand...?

...... Nothing really hits her.... And everyone was killed.... Kiara even knows about Goetia. Commenting all he know was destruction, she may still weak but.... And then.... Before Gudas was about to get eaten... BB stepped in to save us?! Immediately reyshifting with Lip’s help away from her lair to....

Final Act (4/5)

Zepar’s inner monologue begins at the start of the chapter. Unlike its comrade, it sees potential in humanity rather than destruction. After choosing Seraphix as it’s considered “unobservable region” from Flauros’s POV, it stayed to recover. Eventually deciding to use our world’s Kiara to hide Chaldea’s detection. A church therapist eventually hated by Seraphix members for her innate kindness.

If it weren’t for his intervention, our Kiara would’ve led a modest but happy life. Though it noticed there’s something more of her, so it acted while Kiara was asleep. And at some point, Kiara eventually agree to allow Zepar to use her body to save everyone.

Manipulating everyone in Seraphix with her help, Zepar even succumbed to human lust at some point of its work. Eventually, things turned around where she manipulated the Demon God. Once Seraphix was converted to SE.RA.PH, Kiara become an indispensable member to them... And the one who started the killing fest between the co-workers.

Wow... Even Demon God eventually got a better sense of morality once it sees the hellish sight it become. Once entered the planetarium... Kiara then have it summoned BB and 128 Servants. At this point, she got it completely wrapped by her fingers and ruled SE.RA.PH.

Kiara then learned more from Zepar about the Demon Gods and their current situation. Zepar then begged once it regretted so much for choosing and corrupting her. That explains the Zepar we met, is now a hollowed body with no soul at all.

Once Zepar disappeared, BB then confront Kiara about this. But the latter merely brushed it off like it’s nothing... Which BB then tempered the files of every personnel death before moving onto the Holy Grail War.

So while waiting for SE.RA.PH to emerge, that’s where they began summoning more Servants to amuse herself.

Final Act (5/5)

Now back to the Gudas, we’re transported into a classroom?! I guess the useless AI is useful for once huh, Robin. Both Melt and Lip are okay as well, phew... Uh, you did nothing so just get to your point of why saving us when you want us dead, stupid AI?

In summary, we all definitely died, even the Gudas too. But BB rewind the time before our death to save and reyshift us away from there. Uh again, not really. Coming from a brainless AI, you’re just more stupid than scary.

As they asked more further about the time, we can go back all the way to the time before Gudas arrived. But, we’re definitely stuck here within Kiara’s grasp. BB then admits she’s more of forced to do Kiara’s bidding than an actual follower.... But Robin got a point in defeating Kiara, since this isn’t Tiamat or Goetia at all.

Wait... We’re fighting half of Beast III aka the R side? Right or aka Rapture... So for this case and a certain one in Proto-type, it comes in pair? So, at this rate, she’ll completely become the Beast III/R like a butterfly coming out from the cocoon.

Using SE.RA.PH to become Beast but still bound to SE.RA.PH.... Hence she and the planet will fuse once she reached Earth’s core. So that’s where KP points come in with BB special items to beat her.

Selfish and stupid AI will always be that way, Robin. Might as well use this time to finish up all the quest we have to defeat her. Yeah yeah, oh useless AI, we’re still going buy from you so spare us of you being hardworking there.

Later before going off, Melt came looking for the Gudas. The Sakurafaces reveals their own attachment to this classroom... As a fragment memory of a certain girl in CCC always looking at her Senpai. Thanking her that she’s joining us, Melt laughed and brushed off at how weird Gudas are for acting sentimental around her. But to her, we’ll always be her one and only Master once they returned back to their world.

But before Gudas can interrogate her, Melt admit that she hides nothing yet knowing there’s already something wrong within her....

Epilogue (1/2)

Buying every single buff+debuff in KP shop for an easier fight.... Kiara greeted us that we returned back to face her. Whether a moth or not, we’re coming here to stop you once and for all. And we heard better threats than your sexual harrassment too, Kiara.

Ouch, nice job Melt! That’s not a burn that can be healed by remove debuff for a long while on hitting her age. And unlike you, Kiara, Melt isn’t as much of nut job as you are despite her tsundere side.

Offering once more for Gudas to join her... They asked why did she become a Beast instead? We are not as crazy despite the amount of insanity the Servants available in Chaldea. Nevertheless, she replied she was envious...? Unfair? Seems like the joy of relishing Zepar’s memories in Solomon Singularity made her feel envy and to desire in feeling the same of countless of heroic spirits killing her.... As such her a mere human, unable to make that dream come true....

Unfortunately for you nut job, stupid AI have them start a killing fest so there’s only a few of us left. Also, it’s completely decided we’re never be able to come to terms with each other. Like Beast who love humanity in a twisted way, Melt described accurately all traits Kiara has. Even Alter Egos like the Sakura five are disgusted of her existence, sans BB for later reason.

In her eyes of her world, Kiara is the only “human” and everyone is nothing but “animals” before her..... Regardless what tragic past you have, Emiya Alter was only doing his job because of what you are. And you’re right, enough of this chit chat... For Emiya Alter... For Chaldea... For the world and humanity... We’ll not worshipped you as a god, but a Beast to be destroyed as an evil Demon!

Epilogue (2/2)

Excluding her unnecessary comment, the Gudas and everyone dealt a fatal blow against her! But before everything ends, Kiara complimented their effort in fighting her... The area around her is collasping, and she’s dragging us along with it!!

Lip calls for everyone to hold her hands before we got suck in with her. Going down further, Lip also detected Zepar’s true presence from SE.RA.PH itself. Even if Gudas did win this Holy Grail War, the way back home is a trip to Hell first. Once laughing the last laugh, Melt decided to have Gudas used all their Command Seals on Lip and her for a powerful Noble Phantasm blast.

Knowing what it means, the Gudas handed their Command Seal all to them. Once BB got hold the Gudas, she also detected the Demon God’s presence being more and more stronger. Good to know how useless you are since you can’t stop what Kiara is doing at this rate

I’d like to play the song It’s Raining Men changing to it’s raining Demon Gods... That’s not what I’d like to happen here! Suzuka then offered herself to help BB to stop Kiara from spreading Demon Gods all over the sea.

Which as Kiara watched us despairing at what’s about to happen... Melt and Lip have a small talk with each other.... Before unleashing their Noble Phantasm together. A flashback involving Melt actually received a fatal blow from Kiara in the previous battle, getting tortured while Gudas are used as hostage against her, and killed before her.

Both eventually managed to escape with their combined Noble Phantasm, while Kiara earned her victory laugh from their first fight. And also later afterwards of meeting her other self in this world... In order to save Gudas this time, the Melt of the present sacrifice herself so the Melt in the past could save them

One last time... Lip used her Brynhild Romantia as a catapult to launch Melt at Kiara. Melt reminsince her past one last time... And unleash her own Noble Phantasm. Kiara caught off guard eventually panicked while yelling for Melt’s reason knowing she’ll die from this.

Beast III isn’t giving up on her hand by summoning more Demon Gods to catch hold of her body to use as catalyst for more Demon Pillars, stating they were one and the same Spirit Origin. But... Emiya Alter shot Kiara to stop her! He’s still alright for a little while more!!

Pulling Melt away... Emiya Alter made sure Kiara sunk way bottom and broken apart... Destroying her once and for all with one last head shot to end her. Though before death... She eventually decided to resummon herself one day as an Alter Ego, as she and Melt are the same kind of person.

The AI congratulates Guda for beating Beast III/R at last. Everyone else gathered once Gudas awake from that sinking place. When mentioned about Tristan and Melt... A flashblack revealed Tristan pulled Melt up with Emiya Alter’s cable.... But Tristan managed to have Melt save before sacrificing his own life. That’s coming rich from a stupid AI, who throws away all emotion to create those Alter Ego.

And seems like Tristan save Melt because she resemble Isolde... *shrugs* Hope DW can give a rough sketch of what she look like someday. But Melt eventually fades away after using all of her Spirit Origins to fight against Kiara.... After BB recording their irregular existence as a Servant in the Throne of Heroes.

So the Melt we meet will be a new Melt... One that have no memories of us and the CCC event. And a reyshift is here for Gudas! Suzuka went away first with reminding Gudas to text her if they ever want to meet. Tama Cat returns to Chaldea to prepare food for us. Robin went back to throne of Heroes since he got dragged here on a whim

Lip... Part us a farewell, knowing the next time we meet her, it’ll be a Lip that has no memories of us. Lastly the AI... Nah, we don’t show you anything. You still like to insult to the very core. So okay, bye.

Now... Finally back home at last, we’re... Greeted by Da Vinci who don’t remember what happened?! Wait, the past even change so that it’s now dismantled?!!?!?!

That some reyshifting.... ANd.... Some sassy stupid lost child AI invited herself into Chaldea. Oh yeah, you hate humans so much you must travel all the way 2019 to study our technology. Oh wow, your stupidity has gone no bounds as usual! Yeah yeah, stay all you want, knock yourself out. Just because you stay, we don’t need to entertain you 24/7

Thoughts & Observation:

Aside from the crazy difficulty and grinding, I expect no less from Nasu who written the story himself... And again, aside from the unecessary harem scene of course.

Boss fight, majorly Alter Ego are the pain in the ass. Because 2 years later, their boss is still the same with no Anti-Alter Ego class currently

BB’s fight is hell for now, but at least 2 years later with Emperor mothman,.. It’ll be slightly better

Passionlip:

..... First round is what the hell, especially her AOE NP. And it’s better that’s it’s 3 charge, and first time for NA

Second round, it’s practically before first HP break to break it since she charged her NP fast

David apparently died on that second round... From that insta-death. Her third skill buff missed ignore invincibility.... But that insta-death definitely didn’t miss a shit on David

Though at least final hp bar is scrapping whatever luck I have to make sure insta-death doesn’t work....

Suzuka:

She’s.... She’s surprisingly not that hard. Maybe front two rounds is difficult, especially trying to hit a certain HP with that defense buff.

But her third round, after learning my lesson in JP.... Bring an AOE Archer to kill her and her later Shadow Hijikata on second HP break

Jeanne and Merlin have been my MVP since both are taking turns to pull out wide invincibility against her

Meltryllis:

....... She’s the only one I still refused to look forward in 2 years later

Taunting is one hell to go through. Skill seal + attack down that’s practically RNG based especially if it lands on your support to cast defense against her. And finally her hp recovery down every turn...

It’s not bad if you can get Merlin’s NP spammable every turn.... Only thing is her fucking crits that outdo your healing

I can still remembering making sure Herc-chan killing her with his brave chain....

But main MVP is Vlad III Extra, surviving long enough with his NP to deal the damage most of the time

BB:

My only problem was because I’m too used to Emperor’s mothman, and looking forward 2 years later to beat her with borrowing as support.... Given if I’m unlucky again to not have him home in NA too

Borrow Martha Ruler, but initially had wanted to go for Amakusa... Because Martha Ruler was taking quite a while to beat the front

Even better... I used Arash to get rid of the front.... But I forgot there’s the guts buff. And neither him or the first wave died....

BB herself on boss fight isn’t hard with taunters around to lure her NP away from Waver and Martha

Emiya Alter

Not as bad as Melt, but I’m still not looking forward to his fight.

I did learn from JP’s experience... So I borrowed Melt with Waver and 3 taunters to fight

Had to make sure the Melt I borrowed had Sakura CE’s MLB so Waver can buff her NP up and she does her brave chain to quickly break away his first HP bar

That was my problem as I realize delaying it will means quicker death for my Servants

So once it breaks... All it left was making sure the taunters takes the damage from the NP while keeping Melt and Waver alive to fight

Kiara aka Beast III/R:

Maybe because it was using Jeanne... Combined with Merlin and Vlad III Extra, that it’s slightly difficult than usual

Especially this is still her NP without the overdue interlude that upgrades her NP to remove her stun

But it’s still not that bad, except some time Kiara tends to crit more often than usual

Fondut au Chocolat CE helps a lot when combine with Vlad’s NP to deal more damage against her

I don’t mind going back to Mash + Merlin setup with BB.... But I’ll try it one more time 2 years later, with Jeanne having her NP upgraded

While Agartha is debatable in how I’m going to go through for that, it’s time to go back to JP for the coming big Raid session!

#fgo #fate grand order #the shit I shit myself into #SERAPH singularity #SERAPH NA #but i'll admit....#Seraph story had me confused a long while until i read tv trope for explanation again #it's still way better than agartha #but just some part got me lost there #DW can you just fire that minase dude from ever writing fate series #or at least stay as far away from the main story

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thatyanderecritic · 6 years ago

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Shall We Date? Can’t Say No

Title: Shall We Date? Can’t Say No

Media: Otome game. By NTT Solmare

Yandere(s): Subaru Tadokoro

Criticism written by: Julie

Editor: Kai

Can I just say for anyone who plans on buying this game, I would just say no.

Sigh...Hi guys it’s Julie here..been awhile huh? So here’s the tea. There’s this game flying around in the otome community and I’m hearing supposedly it has a yandere love interest. I’ve seen the ads and I’ll be frank, the art quality is kind of wack, compared to some of the previous art styles of Shall We Date. But good news, the game is nsfw compared to a lot of the ‘implied sex crap’ in every other Otome game. I don’t want to make any assumptions but I feel like the majority of women (and men) who play otome games are 17+ because we all know real relationships suck through personal experience already lol. That’s why otome games would do a lot better if they were more R18 but whatever.

Even though the game is nsfw, I can’t say it does anything for me since the writing is bad and I’m pretty confident I wrote better soft core porn in high-school then all of the sex scenes in this game. (Btw I’ll actually leave a link for that story, have fun lol).

Before I dive more into our Yandere I want to give a shout out for Otome Wendy. I followed her walkthrough in order to get all the endings for him. Also bless her soul for playing through all the routes and describing her experiences with that. She’s freakin hilarious. So with that being said, let’s jump right into the game!

In Can’t Say No, you play as an office worker and your job is too...um....do stuff. The game doesn’t really explain what you do at “work” but apparently you work a lot and everyday your forced to do overtime or something. In terms of the datable guys you have some ‘wonderful’ options. First you have, Kaoru, your cheating fiancé; Akira, your married boss; and last Subaru; a ‘yandere’. Geez I wonder who I’m gonna pick? Lol.

So...Subaru Takdokoro. Before I even get to the route, can the artist working on this game tell me why his character design is literally Dora the Explorer’s cousin Diego? In some of the Cgs it’s just... bad, like I can’t unsee Diego.

Anyways, In CSN, Subaru Takdokoro has three endings you can unlock. The happy ending, the sweet ending and the normal ending. When I played through the happy and sweet I endings, I thought Subaru was very a good Yandere. He worries over the MC’s health and he conveniently is always there to save the MC from trouble.

For example, when MC almost got ran over by a truck or when she was about to get raped by a stranger, our good boi Subaru was always there to help her in her time of need (Btw Subaru killed the guy that was about to rape the MC. But our MC never questioned it nor does Subaru ever revealed he killed anyone and I thought that was hilarious lmao).

Not only that, Subaru also offers her emotional support when her fiancé was busy cheating on her ass. By now our MC is pretty much in love with Diego...I mean Subaru. All is well in otome land until her cheating fiancé comes back into the picture. I can’t put all of their dialogues in this post but if I had to summarize it would look a little like this:

Kaoru: “Yeah I know I’ve been a jerk to you but I promise I won’t cheat on your ass no more so take me back”.

MC: “Well actually I-“

Kaoru: “Great see ya later babe!”

*Subaru has left the chat*

Since the MC decides to go back to Kaoru, Subaru takes matters into his own hands and kidnaps her. When our MC wakes up she is chained to the bed and they proceed to have some smexy times which will result in MC and Subaru expressing their mutual feelings of love.

They both get together and MC finally dumps Kaoru’s cheating ass as she should. Now, you're probably thinking it’s over right? Oh honey no...no it’s not. The normal ending is where all hell breaks loose.

All the other events are pretty much the same but unlike how the MC and Subaru would confess their feelings and make love, Subaru drugs MC with an aphrodisiac and suddenly starts shoving big dildos/vibrators down MC’s pussy.

I was like eh ok, but it gets worse. Pretty soon he starts forcing her to sleep with her boss Akira and then MC, Subaru and Kaoru engage in a threesome. That’s pretty much the normal ending if I had to summarize it exactly.

Now this was honestly my reaction: “WTF? So the MC gets mind broken and the ‘Yandere* just pimps her out to random dudes she’s not into? Is this a hentai???!!” *throws phone*

Sigh..this is probably why I don’t review otome games for Yanderes because then this crazy shit happens and I’m just left questioning whether Subaru’s whole “I’m a nice guy persona” was all a lie this entire time at 4 am when I really should be asleep.

Conclusion: Needless to say my liking for Subaru plummeted when I finished playing the normal ending. You will probably noticed that we don’t have a Yandere scale for Subaru and that’s because he’s literally just a hentai character for the normal ending. So should you spend your money to play this game? For $4 dollars I finished Subaru’s 3 routes in under 2 hours. If you have the money and time to kill I’d say just go for it. I don’t recommend getting the normal ending for Subaru though...or dating any other dudes besides for Subaru. Ironically the guy I wanted to date wasn’t even datable. Yeah that's right, I wanted to date the Owner lol.

#ntt solmare #shall we date #yandere #subaru tadokoro #otome game #Shall We Date? Can’t Say No

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akastacia · 6 years ago

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[stanman] Día 3 - El Perro del Rey

Día 03: Diferencias de Poder @stanmanweek

Palabras: 2.770

Advertencias: Referencias al Stick of Truth AU (ranger!Stan x kingwizard!Eric). Ah, y sí~ y algo de R18~

Sinopsis: El guerrero Stan intenta detener los planes del Reino de Kupa Keep y es capturado. Al negarse a revelar la información al gran rey mago, éste toma medidas drásticas para acabar de una vez por todas con aquella problemática situación; la de tener a un traidor a su raza ayudando a sus enemigos.

También lo pueden leer en [wattpad]

Día 3 – El Perro del Rey

Cuando había decidido llevar a cabo esa misión, sabía a lo que se estaba arriesgando. Pero el detener el avecinamiento de una terrible guerra que afectaría a varios reinos pequeños, dependía del aviso que tenía para dar. Ese trabajo era de sumo riesgo y no cualquiera podría llevarlo a cabo, porque… pese a que las probabilidades de éxito eran muy nulas, aunque lo consiguiera, ser capturado por los responsables indirectos de aquel conflicto bélico, sería algo inevitable…

—¿Entonces? ¿No vas a hablar, Stan? Su majestad te hizo una pregunta. —dijo el paladín del rey mientras observaba como éste se iba hundiendo más y más en las arenas mágicas en las que estaba atrapado. El guerrero se mostraba inmutable, completamente fiel a la corona que había jurado defender. Una corona a la cual, por especie, no pertenecía—. Muy bien. Entonces morirás aquí en nombre de su majestad. —dijo blandiendo su martillo en alto—. Déjame sacarte de tu mísera agonía.

Stan cerró sus ojos. Cuando había sido capturado, en su mente, sólo había estado la pregunta de si algún día podría volver al bosque que tanto amaba y en el que había sido criado por aquellos elfos que lo consideraban de su familia. Probablemente no. No podría regresar. Así que, morir sería liberación.

—Sir Butters, alto. —habló alguien a sus espaldas mientras aplaudía un poco. Allí estaba el gran rey mago sentado en su trono, observando de cerca el maravilloso espectáculo—. Aunque me halaga que maten en mi nombre, este traidor nos sirve más vivo que muerto.

—¿Debería llamar a la princesa para que se encargue de esto? —cuestionó el rubio luego de guardar su arma y de arrodillarse frente a su líder a la espera de nuevas órdenes.

Eric negó. La princesa aún se estaba recuperando de la batalla que tuvo que librar para capturar a ese traidor amante de las repugnantes escorias del bosque. Además… si había logrado lastimarla, quería decir que sus encantos no habían sido lo suficientemente poderosos para doblegar la voluntad del guerrero.

—Sir Butters, puedes retirarte. —dijo Eric antes de chasquear los dedos. Pronto las arenas comenzaron a 'regurgitar' al pelinegro, hasta que éste estuvo a salvo en un suelo ahora totalmente sólido—. La princesa podría requerir de tus ‘servicios’. —le explicó, haciendo que éste temblara visiblemente de la emoción. Luego de quedar a solas, se giró hacia su ‘invitado’—. Ugh… puedo ver que hay un ‘peculiar’ hechizo de protección sobre ti~ —examinó mientras caminó unos momentos a su alrededor—. Eso explica el por qué lograste resistirte a nuestra hermosa doncella. —dijo sujetándole de los cabellos con fiereza para que no le evadiera la mirada—. ¿Eh, seguirás sin hablar?……… Bien. Te volverás un residente de los aposentos especiales de la realeza y tendrás el honor de ver realmente qué tan poderoso es el gran rey mago.

Lo siguiente que Stan supo fue que todo se volvió negro. Y entonces, al despertar, ya no estaba en la sala del trono. El nuevo lugar era algo oscuro y sombrío, pero estaba lejos de ser aterrador. Pese a que sin duda parecía ser una especie de calabozo –vamos que por algo sus manos estaban apresadas en los grilletes de la pared–, aquellas luces tenues y aquella decoración rustica, le daban un toque muy calmo y privado.

—Veo que ya despertaste. —dijo Eric mientras observaba por la ventana de aquel lugar. Sus ropas ahora eran un poco diferentes a las de siempre; no llevaba su sombrero y parecía que sólo una bata roja lo cubría—. ¿Sabes, Stan? Ver al sol desaparecer en el horizonte de las tierras que están bajo mi protección, es un placer extra que me permito por ser monarca.

El mencionado sólo le observaba en silencio. Ciertamente, Cartman era un déspota, pero hasta él sabía bien que todo lo que hacía era guiado por el único propósito de engrandecer a su raza: la humana. A la que Stan también pertenecía. No obstante, el guerrero jamás podría sentirse superior a ninguna otra criatura viviente sólo por su especie. Los elfos lo habían criado como una persona amable y gentil; la malicia que –según los elfos– todos los humanos llevaban en su esencia, jamás había despertado en él.

—Ahora bien~ Supongo que seguirás sin hablar si te sigo cuestionando sobre la información que debías entregar, ¿verdad? Entonces… déjame tratar de entender, Stan: ¿por qué los ayudas? Ellos son elfos, tú eres humano. No perteneces a ese sitio.

—A donde no pertenezco es aquí. —gruñó por lo bajó tirando de sus cadenas—. Los humanos nos hemos convertido en una terrible plaga. Gran parte del planeta está muriendo porque el reino humano está expandiéndose sin escrúpulos. ¡¿Cuántos otros reinos piensas destruir y cuántas otras razas piensas aniquilar hasta estar satisfecho?!

—Entonces… según tú, los elfos son mejores y prefieres darle la espalda a tu raza y tratar de destruirla. —comentó con un fingido tono pensativo, mientras se acercó a su prisionero—. No, Stan. Los elfos no son la clave para salvar este mundo. Kyle no es la clave ni el gobernante más apto. Yo soy la clave y yo soy el rey más acorde para este nuevo mundo.

—En tus sueños, culón. —rió antes de decir algo que sabía que le podía costar caro—. Hasta Clyde sería mejor soberano que tú. —La bofetada en su rostro no se dejó esperar. Ah… al menos no había sido una patada en los huevos.

—Vaya… Parece que eres un perro que necesita algo de mano dura. —gruñó Eric severamente ofendido. Allí rebuscó entre sus mangas y sacó una hermosa botella color plata—. ¿Sabes qué es esto?

Stan miró el recipiente y cuando Eric se lo acercó destapado, se apartó rápidamente. Eso olía a…

—Poción de ‘amor’. Sí. Eso mismo, Stan~ —rió el mago—. ¿Sabes? Como rey, mantener fieles a los súbditos a veces requiere de ‘ciertos sacrificios’. —comenzó a explicar antes de sujetarle con fuerza el rostro para hacer que bebiera el contenido—. La princesa en general no tiene problemas en hacerse cargo de esa tarea, pero cada tanto~ hay alguien lo suficientemente resistente a su magia que es capaz de resistir a su ‘activa’ belleza. Entonces, es ahí, donde me toca a mí hacerme cargo.

Stan trató de escupir el líquido, pero era tarde: podía sentir recorrerlo por todo su cuerpo, adormeciéndolo y calentándolo. Mantuvo los ojos cerrados con fuerza, porque apenas hiciera contacto visual con alguien...

—¿Oh? ¿Crees que esta es una poción de amor normal? —se burló el otro antes de hacer presión en la entrepierna contraria con su pie desnudo—. No, no, Stan~ Yo no estoy planeando volverte mi esclavo sólo por unos días o semanas. A la princesa le gusta hacerlo de esa forma porque ella es un híbrido entre especies y su reservorio de magia es prácticamente ilimitado. En cambio, yo soy humano y no puedo divertirme de esa manera. Así que~ mis métodos tienden a ser… permanentes~ —sonrió antes de tirar de la camisa de Stan y hacer que los botones saltaran por los aires—. Nada mal~ —dijo examinando el torso expuesto que ahora tenía frente a sí. Éste no hacía más que subir y bajar, debido a la respiración errática que el guerrero comenzaba a presentar—. Oh. Y parece que allí abajo ya todo está yendo según el plan. —agregó, al tiempo que sus dedos fueron deslizándose hacia el cinturón del pantalón contrario—. ¿Qué dices, Stan? —susurró en su oído con una sonrisa suave y juguetona—. ¿Quiere sentir por unos momentos el embriagante poder de tener a un rey completamente arrodillado a tus pies?

—N-Nunca conseguirás que hable. —gruñó entre dientes, pero sin poder evitar aspirar el delicioso aroma que el mago estaba exudando. Fue ahí que abrió los ojos de la sorpresa y lo entendió. Lo anterior, fuera lo que fuera, sólo había sido un suplemento: Eric mismo era la posición que iba a ‘beber’.

—Ah… bien. No lo hagas. —respondió Eric luego de pegar las frentes de ambos—.Ya es tarde, ya no me interesa lo que fueras a informar o… lo que pudiste informar. ¿Me crees un idiota acaso? —dijo con frialdad tomándole de los cabellos para que mantuviera el rostro en alto. Para el mago era obvio que si ese traidor no hubiese logrado cumplir con su misión, no estaría tan sereno y totalmente dispuesto a morir—. Es irrelevante si lograste o no detener ese conflicto que me costó taaaaanto trabajo orquestar~ ¿Sabes por qué? Porque ahora solamente estoy pensando en lo divertido que será cuando te haga matar a Kahl~

Si Stan quiso replicar algo a eso, no pudo ya que al instante se vio temblando luego de que los labios contrarios presionaran contra los suyos; el efecto en su cuerpo había sido totalmente inmediato. La magia de la princesa era igual de poderosa y efectiva, pero el guerrero podía ver una clara diferencia. Mientras que Kenny debilitaba a sus víctimas hasta que ésta era incapaz de escapar de la lujuria que la princesa emanaba… La de Cartman, por otro lado, le estaba llenando de unas fuerzas y una excitación indomable que jamás creyó que podría sentir.

Así, fue cuestión de segundos, en que correspondiera a aquel beso con tanta gula y pasión que hasta no podía evitar morder los labios del mago de vez en cuando. Como tampoco podía evitar gruñir enfadado porque sus manos estuvieran apresadas.

—¿Eh? ¿Qué pasa? —cuestionó Eric separándose un poco para recobrar el aliento, Stan parecía taaaaan molesto en esos momentos—. ¿Necesitas que te ayude a relajarte un poco? —sonrió mientras sus dedos trazaron un perfecto camino hacia aquel prominente bulto necesitado de atenciones.

La erección de Stan ya era potente y palpitaba tan fuerte entre sus manos que, mientras la acariciaba, no podía evitar morderse el labio y jadear levemente a medida que su propia excitación subía. Ah~ deseaba tanto que ya llegara aquel momento en el que Stan por fin arremetería voluntariamente dentro de su cuerpo, una y otra vez hasta saciarse. Y hasta saciarlo~

Los elfos del bosque eran unos ridículos si creían que esa ‘maldad’ –que ellos decían que todos los humanos poseían en su esencia–, podía ser bloqueada o eliminada. Ah~ y de ser el caso… no había nada que él y su magia no pudieran arreglar~ Porque así era a sus ojos: ¿un humano criado por elfos? Como el monarca absoluto de los de su especie, era su deber enseñarle el verdadero camino a esa pobre alma ‘corrompida’.

Entre tanto, el ojiceleste no podía hacer más que removerse, tratando de acercarse a Eric. Éste seguía cerca, lo suficientemente cerca para que pudiera aspirar su esencia y sentir su calor, pero no para que el pudiera siquiera rosarlo. Por esa razón, no podía evitar el seguir tirando de sus esposas con fiereza.

—Eh, no destruyas mi decorado, hippie. O la gran bruja blanca, volverá de su tumba por ti. —le regañó el ojiazul al notar que la base de los grilletes, parecía estar comenzando a ceder. Eric ahora se encontraba de rodillas, respirando húmedamente sobre la hombría de su prisionero—. Deberías calmarte unos segundos y mirar bien lo que voy a hacer~ A menos que… no quieras que lo haga. —agregó pensativo mientras rosó traviesamente el glande con sus labios.

—……… tú……… —el traidor apenas y podía hablar. El calor que sentía por dentro era tal que parecía que hasta en su garganta había fuego.

—Pero Staaan~ Ahora dime~ —siguió Eric con una voz tierna, casi como si fuera la de un berrinche. Entonces, en segundos, cambió a un tono y un comportamiento totalmente serios—. Dime: ¿quién es tu rey?

—…………… tú…… —susurró el guerrero ya completamente ido en su lujuria—. ………tú……… —volvió a repetir ya al borde del llanto.

El mago se quedó observándolo unos segundos con total indiferencia, antes de que una sonrisa –entre pícara y siniestra– apareciera en su cara. Ah~ ya era suyo.

I am so fab (soy tan fabulosa) Check out (fíjate) I'm blonde (soy rubia) I'm skinny (soy delgada) I'm rich, (soy rica) And I'm a little bit of a bitch (y tengo un poquito de perra)

Entonces… de repente, algo cortó totalmente el ambiente del momento: Donatella de Lady Gaga.

—……………………

—………E-Eri… Ahhh… —jadeó Stan totalmente falto de aire.

Tratar de hablar claro durante la masturbación podía ser un poco difícil, pero más lo era si tenías a un jodido novio experto en felaciones y completamente aferrado a tu pene en esos momentos. No obstante, podía escuchar hacía rato el móvil de Eric sonar desde el bolsillo de la bata de baño que éste llevaba. El ringtone era el de Liane –o mejor dicho, la gran bruja blanca en esa fantasía–. Tal vez era importante.

Cartman pretendía ignorar esa y cualquier otra llamada. Quería seguir en lo que estaba haciendo, pero si ese hippie insistía… De mala gana, tomó el móvil y sólo luego de haber respondido y de tener el móvil contra su oreja, recién ahí, se sacó el pene de la boca para decir con voz de berrinche:

—……… ¡Maaaaamáaaaaah…! Stan y yo estamos en medio de algo importante donde no puedo hablaaaaar. —su puchero era notorio, como también el “Ohhh~ perdón, calabacita~” de la mujer. Éste se escuchó claramente aunque no estuviera con el manos libres—. Y sí, ya sí saqué el pollo del refrigerador.

En realidad, le había dicho a Butters que lo hiciera. Así que si no lo había hecho, ya le diría a sus padres que su hijo andaba ayudando a otros a cumplir sus fantasías sexuales que implicaban juegos de roles. Oh, sí~ eso debía mínimo ser equivalente a 2 semanas de castigo.

—………… Uh, no lo sé. —dijo antes de mirar hacia Stan—. Pregunta si te quedarás a cenar.

—Hola, Sra. Cartman. —saludó el pelinegro cuando el otro acercó un poco el móvil hacia él. Ya se había acostumbrado a esas cosas—. Claro que me encantaría.

—¿Ya? —preguntó Eric luego de volver a colocar el aparato en su oído—. Bieeeen… sólo dame 20 minutos más; no puedo dejar a este hippie amarrado en el sótano por tanto tiempo……… ¿o sí puedo? —cuestionó seriamente con una ceja en alto, mirando hacia su novio. El semblante de éste claramente le dijo que no—. Sí, sí, 20 minutos. Déjame terminar con esto y lo haré. —refunfuñó Eric luego de ponerse de pie y empezar a buscar en una mesa de luz cercana. A un lado de ésta había un colchón en el piso con montón de cojines mullidos; todo preparado para lo que vendría a continuación—. Oh, cierto. —se dijo con su voz normal, antes de cambiar a la que usaba para pedir cosas—. Meeeem~ ¿puedes comprarme más lubricante? Tengo muy poco, y ya revisé antes y tú tampoco tienes mucho……… sí, sí~ yo también te quiero~

Luego de cortar la llamada, se volvió a acercar a Stan y sacó de su bolsillo la llave de las esposas con las que lo tenía esposado a la pared. Eh~ ya con 17 años, sabía bien que su madre era una puta y ya no veía nada malo en eso si podía hacer uso de sus cosas para tener momentos placenteros con aquel hippie marica con el que venía saliendo desde casi 2 años. Además, podría decirse que gracias a eso, ahora tenían más temas de conversación. Sinceramente, su madre era una fuente de conocimiento en esos sentidos.

—Bien, perro del rey~ Ya sabes qué hacer~ —le dijo antes de darle el bote de lubricante en una mano y sujetarlo de la otra para arrastrarlo al lecho.

Stan se quedó de rodillas al borde del colchón mientras observaba como Cartman se recostaba en una posición cómoda que le daría buen acceso a su trasero. En éste ya había un pequeño dilatador anal, por lo que sus dedos tendrían menos trabajo. Algo que personalmente no le hacía feliz; a su mirada, Cartman gemía y hacía expresiones realmente placenteras de presenciar, cada que él lo dilataba y jugueteaba en su trasero.

Había muchas razones válidas por las cuales solían decirle que su relación con el culón no tenía puto sentido. Pero él prefería ignorarlas. Como así también ignoraba cuando le preguntaban sus motivos para andar con él.

Ah… por supuesto que lo de ellos ya no era algo meramente carnal, como sí lo había sido al inicio. Pero entre decir cosas como que tenía una pareja que se pasaba de sobreprotectora –al punto de haber dejado lisiada a la última persona que se había metido con él–, a decir que se había vuelto básicamente adicto a ese cuerpo… Prefería decir su típico “no puedo hacer nada”.

Ah~ Y aunque pudiera: no lo haría.

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

Vaya~ realmente quedé conforme con este oneshot. Me gusta la idea de que Stan y Eric empiecen una relación meramente carnal y que luego se vuelva algo más con el tiempo. Stan es muy como su madre, así que lo imagino agarrándose la cabeza cada que Cartman se mande alguna mierda. En ese sentido, Eric podría tener una persona bastante callada a su lado que, pese a que le diría las cosas de una manera tranquila, también lo dejaría ser.

Claro que, por otro lado, Stan ganaría cosas a su favor. ¿Han notado que es a él a quien generalmente la gente rara va a molestar con retos y competencias estúpidas cuando él siquiera estaba haciendo algo de eso? A veces y sólo estaba pasando por ahí e__e Creo que con un novio como Cartman, este tipo de incidentes se reducirían. Y los índices de parapléjicos aumentarían (?).

Btw, planeo hacer una especie de continuación de esto para la semana del bunny~ (necesito escribir sobre butters yendo a darle sus servicios a la princesa uvu)

Ah, y por si no se entendió: los encantos de Kenny no funcionaron en Stan porque Stan también es seme xDDD Usualmente, da lo mismo, porque Kenny vuelve sus ukes a casi todos. Pero cuando eso no ocurre~ básicamente, en esa explicación, Eric le dijo a Stan que él era quien se hacía cargo de los semes 7v7

Respecto a Liane. Me gusta el HC de que fue una bruja buena, dentro de todo, talentosa y respetable. Y muy hábil con sus tratamientos alternativos :’vvvvvvvvv En parte, creo que los elfos debieron tener culpa de su muerte y, por eso, el gran rey mago los detesta. (tendría que escribir un pinshi fic alv)

#stanman #stanmanweek #stanman week #Sobre Cínicos Alcohólicos que necesitan aprender a Respetar mi Autoridad stanman week 2018 #Mis Weeks de South Park

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laflechanet · 3 years ago

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Nueva noticia publicada en LaFlecha

New Post has been published on https://laflecha.net/toda-la-tecnologia-detras-del-nuevo-volkswagen-tiguan/

Toda la tecnología detrás del nuevo Volkswagen Tiguan

El automóvil Volkswagen Tiguan es el SUV más vendido en toda Europa y ya se encuentra a la venta en la red de concesionarios de Canarias. Su versión renovada ofrece varias funcionalidades que lo convierten en un modelo más eficiente.

Sistema de mando

Se ha reemplazado el sistema de mando que contenía pulsadores y reguladores. El nuevo Volkswagen Tiguan cuenta con una superficie táctil de 10’’ y un clúster de botones desde donde se puede controlar la climatización del vehículo. Es posible modificar la temperatura de las lunetas, los parabrisas y los asientos.

Comandos de voz

Este modelo tiene un sistema MIB 3 que posibilita el uso de comandos de voz. Se activa cuando el conductor pronuncia la frase “Hola, Volkswagen”. Esta función es muy útil y segura, ya que ofrece la posibilidad de efectuar múltiples acciones sin tener que separar las manos del volante ni la vista de la ruta.

Conexión a Internet y conexiones inalámbricas

El Volkswagen Tiguan cuenta con una ranura para una tarjeta eSIM. Al insertarla la persona puede conectarse a Internet con el fin de recibir información sobre el tráfico en tiempo real. También tiene un sistema de infotenimiento.

Es posible controlar las luces y las puertas mediante una aplicación móvil. Tiene App Connect Wireless, que es compatible con Apple CarPlay y Android Auto. Ya no se requiere un cable USB para conectar el smartphone al vehículo, sino que se utiliza el Bluetooth.

Diseño de vanguardia

El diseño del Tiguan ha sido renovado para lograr una estética completamente diferente. Se han practicado una serie de modificaciones y actualizaciones, tanto en el interior como en exterior del vehículo. El interior cuenta con nuevas tecnologías que permiten personalizar el habitáculo y el exterior luce más moderno.

La nueva imagen del Tiguan se caracteriza por un capó delantero alto y una parrilla ancha, similar a la del Touareg. Cuenta con unos atractivos parachoques que han sido rediseñados y posee el emblema de Volkswagen integrado en el centro de la parte frontal.

Sistema de asistencia

El Tiguan cuenta con Front Assist, un sistema de vigilancia del entorno que efectúa frenadas de emergencia en caso de riesgo de colisión. Además, posee Lane Assist, que percibe los límites del carril y genera un aviso cuando el automóvil se desplaza fuera del mismo.

Luces LED

Este modelo tiene luces traseras LED y faros delanteros matriciales IQ.LIGHT que poseen 24 luces LED por módulo. Esta tecnología hace posible que los segmentos de luces se enciendan y apaguen conforme a los diferentes movimientos de conducción. Por lo tanto, le permite al conductor viajar más relajado.

Sistema de sonido de alta calidad

El Volkswagen Tiguan cuenta con un sistema de sonido de alta calidad compuesto de un amplificador de 480 vatios y 10 altavoces. Fue creado en colaboración con la compañía Harman Kardon, líder en el mercado de equipos de audio para automóviles a nivel global.

¿Qué opciones de equipamiento se encuentran disponibles?

El nuevo Volkswagen Tiguan ofrece tres opciones de equipamiento, con diversas funciones, llamadas Edition, Connect y R-Line. Si bien las tres versiones comparten muchas características, también presentan una serie de diferencias sustanciales.

¿Qué características comparten las tres versiones?

Las tres versiones incluyen el Front Assist y el Lane Assist, los faros LED, climatizador Air Care Climatronic, la cámara de visión trasera Rear View, la Radio Ready 2 Discover con Streaming & Internet y el sistema App Connect Wireless. Además, cuentan con sensor de lluvia, retrovisores ajustables y abatibles electrónicamente, iluminación periférica e inclinación en el lado del acompañante.

¿En qué se diferencian los tres tipos de equipamiento?

En cuanto a las diferencias, el equipamiento Edition posee llantas de aleación ligera Montana 7J x 17, el Connect llantas Frankfurt 7 J x 18 y neumáticos 235/55 R18 marca AirStop, y el R-Line llantas de aleación ligera Valencia 8,5J x 19. Si bien el Edition cuenta con un volante multifunción de cuero y sensores acústicos de aparcamiento traseros y delanteros, no ofrece más funcionalidades.

En cambio, los equipamientos Connect y R-Line tienen otras características que les aportan mayor valor. Entre ellas se destacan las barras longitudinales del techo en Plata Anodizada, la activación automática de luz de cruce con luz conducción diurna LED, y las funciones Coming Home y Leaving Home.

También poseen lunas laterales traseras y luneta trasera oscurecidas, y el sistema Digital Cockpit «Pro» multicolor. Esta tecnología permite elegir 30 colores distintos para iluminar el interior del vehículo, creando una atmósfera adecuada para cada tipo de ocasión y contexto climático.

A su vez, los equipamientos Connect y R-Line se distinguen entre sí. El primero posee molduras cromadas en las ventanillas y el asistente de luz de carretera «Light Assist». Mientras tanto, el segundo tiene luz de conducción diurna LED, luz de curva, volante multifunción con paneles y deslizadores táctiles iluminados, y tecnología “R-Line”. Por último, la apariencia del R-Line es mucho más deportiva.

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kohakuarisaka · 3 years ago

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Subspace [chapter 6 of ?]

Takami Keigo x (fem!)Reader

Chapter 1 • Chapter 2 • Chapter 3 • Chapter 4 • Chapter 5 • Chapter 6 • Chapter 7 • future chapters coming soon~

Links: [ My BNHA Fanfic Masterlist on Tumblr ] ~ [ Also on my AO3 ]

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

You decided, a few weeks later, that Hawks was an evil man.

He was sitting in that arm chair, leaning back with his legs spread, chin resting in his palm, propped up by an elbow on the armrest. The ravenous look in his eyes betrayed the bored persona he was trying to give off.

He had decided to leave his jumpsuit and khakis on this time: his hero uniform. His black boots were still on his feet and he was still wearing his belt, but his jacket, gloves, elbow braces, headphones and eyeglasses had been abandoned in the living room.

When you showed up and saw him like that, you wondered if it had been a bad time, and offered to leave. He was still sweaty from whatever mission he had just completed, and clearly tired from the long flight. Had he exhausted himself to get here at the promised time to meet you?

But, despite your offer, clearly, Hawks was desperate for a distraction, and you couldn't deny that the sight of him in his hero costume did something to you.

It was tiptoeing the edge of mixing business with pleasure.

His pants were too baggy to give away the state of his arousal, but his jumpsuit was tight, and outlined his pectorals and abdominal muscles beautifully. You could see the dramatic shifting of his chest with each inhale and exhale.

Hawks wasn't exactly playing nice, not that you had the slightest complaint.

You were kneeling at his feet, torso propped upright, resting on your calves, feet curled behind you and hands on your lap, completely nude minus the crimson collar he so carefully latched around your neck.

You were trying to sit still, as he had demanded. It was difficult, considering he had carefully worked a heavily ribbed dildo into your cunt after some mindful fingering. He had used a ridiculous amount of lube, and it was dribbling messily between your legs.

As soon as you knelt down, he revealed the remote. Hawks clearly knew that the positioning had pushed the bulbous tip right to the perfect spot deep inside you. Your clenched thighs were keeping the fake cock from popping out.

It was good, really good, but not enough. You needed some friction on your clit. You needed his hands to touch you. You needed to move that damn toy. As good as the stretch and vibration was, you wanted to feel the drag and friction of the ribs along your walls, to feel the stretch every time the thick shaft worked its way back in.

"Shut up," Hawks commanded, his tone low and clearly annoyed.

Hawks could easily reach out and touch you, and he demonstrated that by fixing his posture and reaching for the leash hook on the collar. He hooked a finger through it and gave a little tug, upward, forcing your head to fall back and neck to arch.

"Poor, pathetic babybird can't handle it," he commented, as if he was talking to himself and not to you.

The pain from his shifting gave you a moment of clarity to recognize that you were whimpering faintly between your sharp inhales and hoarse exhales. He pulled the collar, up and up, before abruptly letting go, and you nearly crumbled to the floor.

"Come here," he commanded.

On your knees, of course-

-and with a weak sound, you shimmied forward, until his knees touched your ribs. Hawks might not have been as big as other pro heroes, but he felt massive in that moment.

Hawks bundled your wrists in one large hand and lifted your arms up. His wings were sprawled out behind him, long plumes flopped over the chair and dragging along the floor. You admired the beautiful shades of red as he effortlessly worked a pair of handcuffs over your wrists.

One closed with an audible tick and then the other followed. A small chain dangled between the cuffs, giving you barely any room to shift your wrists apart.

He let go, but only after placing your arms over his shoulders. You moaned loudly, right in his face, when he leaned in close. You were hoping for a kiss, and Hawks scoffed at you, his breath hot as it fluttered across your cheeks.

His dominant hand trailed down your tummy and a long finger poked between your nether lips. He dragged the pad of his finger across your bud before circling it harshly, soaking up his digit with lube and your arousal.

You cried out, head tilting back as the sharp, almost painful pleasure shot through you. With your bound arms behind him, the movement tugged Hawks forward. He hissed, and you briefly anticipated a punishment; however, instead, he tilted his head down and buried his face in your neck with a pleased grunt.

You caught a whiff of his dirty hair, something faint and metallic, likely dried blood, and something musky and dry, like crumbled asphalt. It should have been revolting, but reminded you that he had just been working.

That thought - pro hero Hawks, rushing home to play with you, his cute slave - was downright sinful.

Hawks hadn't shaved in the past couple weeks, too busy with undercover missions. As a result, his normally neatly trimmed chin hairs were messy and soft, pale-blonde stubble coated his jawline. Still, the short hairs felt nice dragging along your skin.

"Fuck, you smell so good," he growled, taking a deep inhale at your hairline, right beneath your ear.

You resisted the temptation to lean into his touch, craving more, wanting to feel his hair and the burning friction of his skin.

"Should I even let you come?" he taunted, pulling his hand back to slap his fingers against your clit.

He didn't want to hit the base of the toy and hurt you, that much was evident by his careful actions. He returned his digits immediately, despite the threat, this time rolling your bud carefully between his first and middle finger.

"I told you to be quiet; yet, you're still crying like a whore."

His free hand came up and cupped over your mouth, long fingers stretched far across your face, mindful to keep your nostrils free.

"I said, shut up," he hissed, and you bit back a mewl at his commanding voice.

He had new cuts on his hand. You could feel the rough scab of a healing wound against your lips, and swallowed the temptation to stick your tongue out and taste the salt of his skin.

Hawks kissed his own knuckles with a dramatic pop, knowing damn well that your mouth was hiding right behind them. He hadn't kissed you yet, and you swallowed a whimper that threatened to leak into his palm. The challenging look in his eyes was daring you to act out. You tried to hold his stare, eyelids fluttering as the pleasure slowly apexed.

"-thought about you while I was gone," Hawks confessed quietly.

The handcuffs rattled quietly behind him as you fidgeted.

"-tying you up."

You were panting through your nose, trying to focus on his words instead of his swift fingers and the constant contact to your gushy insides.

"-kissing those sweet lips."

You moaned into the skin of his hand.

His hand released your mouth suddenly, only for his fingers and thumb to roughly cup your face on either cheek.

"You can't take a fucking order, can you?" he hissed, leaning in so closely that his nose bumped into yours.

"-m sorry, just-" you choked out weakly.

It was hard to process properly between the harsh pinches of his fingers against your clit and the startling glare of his gold eyes.

You stared into his pupils like a mouse caught in a trap, mystified by the diamond shape. The curves of his eyelids was harsh when he glared, darkening the natural tint at the corners. This close, the human aspects of him were nearly lost.

"You want a kiss that badly?" he cooed, voice hoarse and taunting.

You gasped.

"Hm - Is that it? My poor little slave wants a kiss?"

You swallowed loudly, choking out, "y-yes, sir."

"Babybird, if you always get what you want, you'll act up," he criticized softly, like reprimanding a misbehaving child.

You thinned out your lips, drawing them inward, and inhaled sharply, wondering vaguely if you were really caught up enough in the moment to cry.

Suddenly, Hawks let go of your face and your sex. His hands grabbed at the meat of your waist and hoisted you up. The toy nearly slipped free as he propped you on his lap, sliding your thighs on either side of his.

There was plenty of room in the chair to fit the both of you comfortably, that much was immediately evident.

One of his hands reached around behind you and cupped the base of the toy. He pressed it up into you, slowly, before lowering it back down. His other hand cupped your front, and you felt a thick thumb slide down between your folds, while the rest of his hand pressed against your lower abdomen.

"Bounce."

With your wrists cuffed tightly together, you couldn't bring your arms forward to place your hands on his shoulders. You bent your arms as best you could, despite the awkward angle, and grabbed at his jumpsuit, trying to find some leverage.

It felt strange: a water and heat resistant material commonly used for hero costumes. Your bare breasts smooshed into his clothed chest, and felt the fabric there, too. Your bare thighs rubbed his lap, and felt the harsh, rough stitch of his cargo pants.

"Ride this fake fucking cock," Hawks hissed, right in your face. "That's an order."

Finally, you rolled your hips, and felt his fingers clutching the flared base, rubbing against your outer folds from the friction when you took it all in. You couldn't help but cry out at that.

"Come for me, and I'll kiss you," he added on, sweetly this time.

His lips moved over the skin of your cheek as he spoke, and his facial hair tickled you.

"I missed the cute face you make when you come-"

You shifted your positioning, wiggling in his lap, and when you sank back down, you cried out, finally getting the angle right. Hawks didn't move a damn muscle as you bounced on that dildo, meeting the base every time.

In some distant part of your mind, you were annoyed that it wasn't his cock. A fear bubbled up, that he simply didn't want to fuck you. But, just as that surfaced, you realized that Hawks was lifting his hips, and pressing something hard into the skin where your thigh met your crotch, meeting your movements unconsciously.

"P-please, sir-"

"No," he retorted sharply, smooth and harsh like bound leather.

Your head fell back as the pleasure became boiling. Despite how badly you wanted more, you knew you were close. The trembling in your thighs told Hawks much the same.

His face lowered and you felt the burning drag of his facial hair against the skin on your chest.

You were vaguely aware of the nonsensical noises spewing from your lips, more so focused on him, on the man beneath you, on the powerful vibrations rattling your core and his calloused finger circling your sensitive clit.

"Come on, baby, come for me," he whispered harshly into the swell of your breast.

You winced when something sharp and painful dug into the swell of your breast. Your mind provided the obvious answer, that Hawks had bit you there. He was hardly restrained in that, undoubtedly leaving a mark. He growled into your skin and-

-with a sharp cry, you came, trembling above him. Your head fell forward, slouched over his head that was cradled in your chest. You felt more so than heard his approving moan, and sharply inhaled his musk and the scent of debris wafting off his messy hair.

As soon as your orgasm waned, Hawks carefully removed his teeth from your skin. He slid the toy out, slowly, before carelessly dropping it to the floor between his feet. He fished the remote out of the edge of the armchair and flicked the switch off before dropping that, as well.

One hand cupped your elbow and carefully pushed your arms up and over his head. You looked down as he brought your bound wrists inbetween your bodies, and caught a glimpse at the bite mark on your breast. It was bright red, deeply indented, though not bleeding, and was most certainly going to bruise.

You almost begged him for more; but, at this angle, you could feel his need pressing into you, and that took precedence.

"Please-" you whimpered.

"Shhh. Come here, beautiful," Hawks cooed, silencing your whimpers with a kiss.

While you absolutely wanted that, and the shameful moan you released made that much more obvious, you had been pleading for something else. His arousal was stabbing you in the thigh, and while it was uncomfortable, you were more interested in taking care of it.

You sincerely doubted you ever wanted to please any dom more than you did Hawks.

But, in that moment, he was focused on kissing you. They were more passionate and breathtaking than they were ravenous. You were panting against him like a rabid dog, bound wrists holding your hands together that were desperately clawing at his jumpsuit where it clung to his chest.

You didn't dare pull away or ruin that kiss, despite the insane urge to touch his cock, to sink to the ground and beg him to let you suck it, to plead for your master to finally fuck you.

Even when you were sufficiently melted into his lips, drowning in the kiss and taste of his salty skin, unbothered by how chapped they were, you still dwindled on the thought of pleasuring him, of hearing him moan and bringing him to the peak of ecstasy.

Eventually, Hawks finally pulled away from the kiss with a gruff sigh. His wings flexed behind him, flopped over the back of the chair, and he leaned back until he was arched away from you, leaving you perched in his lap.

Immediately, you began clawing at his belt, undoing the clasp with trembling fingers.

"Please - please let me-" you whined.

Hawks sighed as you worked his belt open, like he was preparing to criticize you. You roughly dragged his pants down and swallowed dryly at the sight of a well placed zipper hidden in the fabric. That was easy to undo, but his cock was trapped down the leg of his jumpsuit.

If he wasn't throbbing, begging for release, Hawks would have laughed at the sight of you nudging it to the open seam, with your hands cuffed together no less, the chain between the cuffs rattling noisily.

Any contemplation for laughter died when you effortlessly slid off his lap and onto the floor with a thump, knees hitting the space between his feet.

"Hey, now-"

Hawks' protest died when you shifted his cock and it popped free from his jumpsuit. Immediately you drew the tip past your lips. You bobbed your head halfway, cupping his shaft with one of your hands. The moan he made was shameful.

"Ohhh - fuck," he groaned, head falling back and hitting the edge of the chair with a loud thump.

"Babybird, fuck. I didn't say you coul-" he chanted, too lost in the pleasure to try and stop you. "Damn it. Fuck, that feels so good. Ahnn - fucking slut couldn't wait to taste my - mmm-"

You felt his thighs trembling on either side of you, heard the sound of his boot-clad feet digging into the floor as he fidgeted. His hands were tightly gripping the edges of the seat, too afraid he would hurt you if he touched you right now.

You sank down just a little too low, spurred on by the sounds he was making, and gagged a little before reeling back up. The spasm dragged the roof of your mouth along his tip, as if the sound wasn't arousing enough. He wanted to tease you for that, for being so desperate to suck his cock that you choked on it; but, then, you sank back down and the tension got the better of him.

Between your mouth and palm, slobbering all over him and working feverishly over his burning arousal-

-he didn't stand a chance.

Hawks tore your mouth away with a rough grip on your hair. Of all things, it was the pained whimper you made that got him there.

You felt his shaft throb in your palm, as if reminding you to keep stroking. You didn't falter, and felt it throb again before his seed burst out the tip, and Hawks came with a roar. You looked up at the pinched expression on his face, and soaked in the sight of his reddened cheeks and ears, pleasure etched across his closed eyes.

His release shot out over his jumpsuit, painting his tummy in white, and a good chunk of it coated your hand. His hips lifted, bucking into your hand, riding out the waves until the pleasure died down and he sank into the chair, boneless.

Hawks didn't wait long to sit up and remove your hand from his cock with a firm grip at the forearm. He looked disappointed as he stared down at you; shamefully, you realized you had downright whimpered at that look.

"I-I wanted to-" you whined.

"Babybird," Hawks interrupted you firmly.

Disappointed, indeed.

"I've allowed you to argue and fuss - let you get away with that. But, I won't tolerate it anymore. The next time you disobey, talk back to me, or fucking breathe without permission, I'll give you a real punishment - the kind you don't want. Do you understand?"

You blinked at him, trying to remind yourself this was an act; yet, still deep in that headspace, you felt a wallowing of guilt build up and shame blossomed over your face. You swallowed loudly, eyes wide and glistening you stared up at him.

"Y-yes, sir," you whispered.

"Again. Do you understand?" he uttered, low and almost frightening.

Almost.

"I understand, sir," you weakly uttered back.

"Good. Now-" Hawks paused and pushed your hands in towards your face. Your eyes shifted away from his stare and to your hand, the very one you had stroked him off with.

"-clean up the mess you made."

Your eyes flickered back up to his, and caught the slightest hesitation in his eyes, a look of trust, that you could safe word out if you needed to.

Ensuring you were making eye, you leaned in and sucked two of your fingers into your mouth, lapping up most of his seed.

His taste was salty, of course, but with an unexpected tang that left you longing. Your fingers popped free with a wet sound and you followed along your knuckles, tongue dragging sloppily to clean up the mess.

Hawks groaned at the sight, his gaze unblinking and smoldering.

"Good girl," he praised.

Your eyes fluttered shut with a soft moan as your tongue returned to your mouth.

"Good girl," again, and he leaned in and pecked a soft kiss at your forehead.

He kissed over your cheeks before capturing your lips again. You were startled by the sudden intrusion of his tongue, surprised that he didn't mind the taste of himself mingled with yours. If anything, he seemed to enjoy the knowledge of where that dirty mouth had just been.

After a short while, he removed his lips and tongue with a deep exhale.

Hawks removed the handcuffs with haste, dropping them to the floor, before unclasping your collar. That, he flung to the bed, before rising to his feet. You squeaked when Hawks effortlessly scooped you up, one arm cradling your back while the other hooked beneath your legs.

You expected the bed, but was surprised when he started for the bathroom.

"Are you okay?" he cooed at your temple.

"Yes," you replied, knowing the scene was over.

"About what I said-"

"Don't," you interrupted him gently. "It was great."

Hawks set you down carefully at the edge of the shower, watching you fall onto wobbly toes. His hands lingered until you gently pushed them away with a soft smile, assuring him you could stand.

He made quirk work of his jumpsuit, unzipping the back noisily, and you watched in awe as his wings flexed in, feathers trembling, as he pulled it through the wing holes before shoving the material down to his waist. Hawks' belt hit the floor with a loud clank before he toed out of his boots, the shoestrings tugged loose by his feathers.

Everything hit the tile, and you couldn't help but stare, seeing him properly nude for the first time. The rest of him was a little paler than his sun-kissed cheeks, and light blonde hairs dusted the center of his chest and abdomen. There was some scars scattered here and there, mostly faded. He had a dime-sized freckle on his shoulder, and few others decorating his tummy.

When his eyes returned to yours, surprisingly, Hawks looked almost embarrassed at the staring. It had probably been awhile since he was properly nude in front of someone; yet, you couldn't help it.

He was beautiful.

The shower was massive, as expected to accommodate Hawks' wingspan, with a large stool in the center. You sat down while Hawks started the bathtub around the corner. He came back just as you fished the showerhead off the wall.

He took it from you and started the faucet, testing the temperature on his hand.

"Hawks-" you laughed.

He interrupted you quietly with your own name - your first name, you realized. He always called you by your last name, and despite all you had done together, you still smacked your mouth shut at the intimacy, starstruck.

He started the showerhead at your shoulder, letting you adjust to the warmth, before slowly reaching over the top of your head, giving you time to close your eyes.

Eyes closed, and focused on the running water, you were startled by the sudden sensation of his lips against yours, and twitched a little against him.

Hawks chuckled, leaned back and moved the water over himself.

"I'm glad you were here," he commented. Even softly, his voice was so loud in the shower.

He turned off the showerhead and returned it to the hook; instead of handing you the soap, he dispensed a dollop onto his palm and worked it over your body with his own hands.

"Was it a bad mission?" you hummed, debating on protesting to his touch. However, when his large, scabbed hands smoothed over your back, you decided against it, and soaked up the attention with a pleased mewl.

"Yes," he answered plainly, trusting you wouldn't pester.

There was no point. You would see the report Monday morning.

"Hawks, you know you can call me anytime?" you offered softly.

Of course, it wasn't one sided, and he knew that. This agreement was mutual, two halves of the same desire, opposite ends, that worked in harmony.

More body wash was deposited into his hand; however, you smacked your palm over his, dragging to steal the soap, and smeared it across his chest before he could question. He laughed, briefly, but the sound died out when your hands, slippery and soapy, ran down the length of his arms.

His wings jutted out on reflex, and you briefly wondered if you had overstepped a boundary; but, Hawks' eyes were distant, and his muscles were relaxed. You overthought every scar, every bump, that your hands traced, and was extra careful to only touch his lower back, far from the junctions of his wings.

"What about the bath?" you blurted, seeing as he had left it unattended.

"-'s got a sensor," Hawks answered distantly.

You snorted. Of course it did.

After a rinsing off the soap, and briefly fighting over the showerhead, Hawks tugged you to the tub. Of course, it was massive; but, that didn't stop you from staring like a moron. The shape was rounded, with an imprint in the side to make it easier to sit, and a large outer perimeter for-

-well, his wings.

A layer of foam and bubbles floated on the surface, wafting a smell of lavender and sandalwood. It was hard to imagine Hawks doing this alone, and you nearly asked him if he went out and bought this for you.

Hawks helped you step into the water before climbing in himself. However, he immediately tugged you into his arms, as if you were going to drown if he didn't prop you up. His wings jutted out above the surface, the lower ends poking at the water, and spread out over the edges of the tub.

"Are you sure I'm not imposing? -overstaying my welcome or - I mean, you don't have to do all this," you babbled.

"-was worried I was harsh today," he uttered quietly, his eyes taking you in like a sad puppy.

"I like when you're harsh," you answered. "I worry that you don't take enough - that I'm getting everything while you-"

Hawks chuckled and you stopped yourself.

"Is it cuz we haven't-"

"-not entirely," you protested softly.

The last thing you wanted was to pressure him. If that wasn't on the table, he didn't owe you an explanation.

"Just getting to play with you does it for me. Haven't even scratched the surface of-... of the things I wanna do to you," Hawks spoke softly, encircling his hand around your bicep in a gentle hold.

"It's not that I haven't thought about it," he continued, his gaze flickering from your eyes to the wall.

"It changes things."

Your hand sank at his words, wondering if that meant, 'it makes things personal'. Maybe he was right, and you were unconsciously tugging at something he wasn't comfortable with providing.

"Hawks, you don't have to explain your boundaries. It's okay," you cooed, curling a hand over his shoulder.

His wings jerked, likely unconsciously, and splashed some water around. You took in the sight of his hair wet and slicked back, some unruly, short strands clinging to his forehead, and tried to write it to memory.

He let go of your bicep, and moved that hand to caress the side of your neck. His eyes finally returned to yours, bright as the sun.

"You did so good today," Hawks praised, his thumb gliding over your cheek.

"So did you," you retorted gently, dragging a hand along the surface of the water to smear bubbles over his chest.

His forehead gently collided with your cheek and a sigh breathed out against your skin. You shifted your hands over his shoulders, selfishly feeling up the firm muscles there, and stared at his wings in awe. This close, you could see the way the light illuminated the crimson shades and how each individual plume shifted subtly, independent of one and other. Hawks dragged his chin along your shoulder, and his short beard hairs tickled your skin.

"Are you hungry?"

You smiled.

"Absolutely."

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