#that's what i hope Echoes and Switch bring back

[little-diable]

Merry Christmas, pet - Priest!Tom Riddle (smut)

It’s close to Christmas so I decided to let these two celebrate in the best way possible. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader visits Priest Riddle on Christmas morning to properly celebrate

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, religious connotations, public/in a church

Pairing: Priest!Tom Riddle x fem!reader (1k words)

The sound of her boots meeting the snow covered ground filled the air, focusing on the crunching snow. She wrapped her coat tighter around herself as the wind picked up, letting snowflakes rest on her cold cheeks while she moved closer towards the church.

A sigh of relief left her as she stepped into the warm church, shaking off the snow lingering on her before calling out his name. The scent of incense and burning candles guided her closer, wrapping itself around (y/n).

“Priest Riddle?” She called out again, placing down her coat and bag on one of the benches. It didn’t take him long to appear, stepping into the room with a soft smile lingering on his lips, eyes moving up and down her frame.

“Merry Christmas, (y/n). What brings you here?” He came to a halt in front of her, letting the scent of his cologne clash against her, high on the smell. Her fingers trembled as she reached for her bag, pulling free the box of cookies she had baked for him late at night.

“I wanted to bring you this, a small Christmas gift.” An unfamiliar softness swam in his pupils, leaving her to grin in excitement. The two of them had a strange relationship, tiptoeing along the edge whenever they were alone. He was corrupting her, and yet she didn’t back down, enjoying the way the priest toyed with her.

“How sweet of you, (y/n). But you could have waited until our evening mass.” He placed the box down before turning back to her, hands finding her waist to pull her flush against him. (Y/n)’s hands automatically found his chest, palms pressed flat against his black dress shirt while her eyes flickered between his white collar and his dangerous eyes. She could only wonder if the snake slithering through Eden looked like him, charming, set on fooling those who didn’t see through his game.

“I didn’t want to wait that long, wanted to see you much sooner.” The raspy chuckle leaving him made heat pool in her stomach, forcing her thighs to press together while he tightened his grip on her. Priest Riddle’s thumbs stroked along the fabric of her dress, enjoying the way her breath hitched in her chest like it always did when he touched her.

“Such an impatient girl. What should I do with you, huh?” One of his hands found her chin, holding it with an iron grip while his lips found hers. The relieved sigh rumbling through (y/n) only pushed him closer, deepening the kiss. Priest Riddle turned them around, sinking down on the wooden bench to pull her into his lap, spreading her thighs for his wandering hands.

It didn’t take long for him to rip her tights, brushing his fingertips over the soaked fabric of her panties. Her moans filled the empty church, echoing off the high walls that seemed to stare down on them with judging eyes. (Y/n) pressed herself further against his fingers, hoping that he would switch to his cock rather soon.

“What do you wish for, (y/n)? Tell me.” She fumbled with his belt, hoping that he’d understand what she wanted from him. But the man didn’t give in, waiting for her to speak up. She freed his hard cock first, wrapping her nimble fingers around him before finding her voice.

“I want you to fuck me, Priest Riddle. That’s all I want.” He hummed in agreement, allowing her to pump him a few times before she positioned herself over his cock. Their eyes held contact as she sank down on him, groaning at the feeling of him perfectly filling her.

A sound so sinful not even the devil could have created it left them in unison, guiding them as she moved on top of him. Almost absentmindedly her hand found the cross dangling from his neck, similar to the one dangling over the altar behind (y/n), staring down on the priest who had corrupted a once sweet girl.

“Atta girl, look at you, such a perfect pet for your priest.“ The moan leaving (y/n) made him chuckle, sinking further into the bench with his hands tightly supporting her. Her teeth had a tight grasp on her lower lip, close to drawing blood as red as the blood that had clung to the saviour's body, a river of thick substances mixing together as death and life fought for the upper hand.

“Hold on.” Her dazy mind struggled to pick up on the command, arms finding their way around his neck. Priest Riddle carried her towards the altar, setting her down on it without pulling out of her. (Y/n) trembled as she clung to him, arms and legs wrapped around the tall man who now fucked her with ferocious thrusts.

“Oh god, you’re so big.” She could feel him deep inside of her, hitting all the right spots with every thrust. No shame clung to them, all too used to giving in to their lust within these holy halls, spurred on by the sinful thrill. His ringed hand held onto her throat, thumb running over her jaw to pull her in for a teeth-clashing kiss.

Her walls fluttered around his cock, knowing that she was about to fall over the edge with a call of his name. Priest Riddle parted from (y/n)’s lips to stare down on her, enjoying the sight of her pleasure-drunken features all too much. The adrenaline thumping through their veins began to spiral, forcing them into a new dimension as they came at the same time.

The priest imprinted himself on her walls while she sobbed his name, clinging to him as if he was the only one she could trust and seek guidance from. Neither of them let go as they tried to catch their breaths, eyes holding contact.

“Merry Christmas, pet.”

[meownotgood]

a few anons asked me about an arcane!viktor and league!viktor fic. here it is. the machine herald and the herald of the arcane sandwich.

18+, arcane season 2 spoilers

════════════════════

The recent influx of arcane anomalies is responsible for many, many things; the dysfunction of the Hexgates, the instability in several Hextech devices. And additionally, apparently, messing with anomalies often results in rifts, capable of bridging one universe with the next. 

You're assuming, anyway. It's the only option to logically explain why you're currently sandwiched between two Viktors.

"Are they always this… obedient?" Viktor — the menacing, Hexcore-infused, arcane-touched version of Viktor — hums, his voice deep and distinctive. It rumbles through you, threatening to displace your shaky legs with its boom alone, echoing several times before it settles in your eardrums. 

You take in a sharp breath, one you're sure the both of them can hear. The lack of space within the anomaly's pocket of unreality forces you to fall back against his chest. True to his assumption, when Viktor's hands find your waist, your limbs go limp. You pliantly allow him to lift you, until you're settled on his thigh. 

"It is difficult to tell." Viktor — the other Viktor, all metal edges and mechanical thrums — finds your jaw. With a firm, steel index finger, he guides it, carefully bringing your wandering gaze back to him. His mask is expressionless, glowing orange pools of light examining you blankly. 

But you swear, the thickness to the edges of his muffled accent, the way he grabs your chin hard, keeping you in place when your head threatens to fall back, as his counterpart's fingertips analytically skim your side — It screams jealous. 

Your eyes flicker all over his figure, unsure what to focus on. Unsure what to make of this. And Viktor laughs, maniacal and amused. His third arm, his Hexclaw-hand, reaches down towards your much smaller figure, settles on your head, and ruffles your hair in something of a playful, infantilizing gesture. Or, it would be playful, if his third hand wasn't capable of producing a dangerous, one-thousand temperature Death Ray. 

"I believe," Machine-Viktor starts, "We are intimidating them." 

Arcane-Viktor glides his palm over your chest, approving. His touch is foreign, neither rough, nor smooth. "Precisely." 

So much for trying to hide it. In this situation, how could you not be intimidated? 

Both of them are insanely intelligent, to the point it nearly scares you. They're larger, taller; you have to crane your neck up to continue looking at Machine-Viktor, gaze steady on him like he's instructed. 

And Arcane-Viktor is somehow even taller than his copy. It makes you feel helpless in his arms, with the way his figure dwarfs yours completely. You can practically feel the persistent glow of his eyes, boring into you. Examining you with a sixth sense of perception, that could only be defined as inhuman. 

The Machine Herald and the Herald of the Arcane are inscrutable. They're both impossible to read, you couldn't hope to determine what they're planning if you had a million timelines to do so. There's a strange sense of understanding between them. A form of matched intuition, perhaps, that comes with being one in the same. 

Truthfully, they've been arguing, bickering over every topic to be brought up since you got stuck here. Cosmological theories, conflicting assumptions, defining the line between the mechanical and the arcane — It's all flown over your head, honestly. Literally and figuratively. This is the first time they've focused on you since the moment you became pressed in between them. 

Yet, when you are involved, they seem to be on the exact same page. The Machine Herald gives a single nod towards the Arcane Herald, and without the need for words, they're switching tasks. 

Machine-Viktor takes your thighs, holds them instead, palms splayed underneath them to brace the weight. Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, locked at the ankles, his metal armor smooth yet firm against your skin — and Arcane-Viktor steps in closer. Your back presses entirely against his chest, helping to support you. 

His outline digs into your shoulder blades, golden and rib-like. And his hands, purple-hued, rich with power, grasp your face to tilt your head back. To make you look at him, instead. You aren't sure which set of eyes to focus on. The claw jutting out from his back twitches, seemingly regarding you with its own element of sentience. The other Viktor stiffens, for a moment. 

But the position you've been placed in is deliberate; it leaves you wide-open. So, he takes advantage of the opportunity his counterpart has graced him with. His third arm hums mechanically as he moves it. He brings its hand to your mouth, and your lips part to let him press his thumb inside. 

It's more analytical than anything else. 

Arcane-Viktor watches, transfixed, as your tongue swirls around the faux metal digit. It's a curious lesson in mortal instinct. You whimper, your gaze grows misty as you try your hardest to focus on him, but you barely falter. You aren't giving up. Weak and desperate, your whole body shudders, enough to be felt on his palms as a tremble rushes through you. 

Oh, you want to be made to shudder, he realizes. This is a wealth of emotion and excitement and desire for you, an addicting amalgamation of new sensations to experience. Humans love to chase this high. They cannot be distracted by fear, when raw, depraved need clouds their judgement. His machine-equivalent understands this concept, surely. 

Your plush lips meet the artificial joints: welded with clean, steel pivots. Viktor would recognize his own handiwork anywhere. But the intricate assembly around each linkage — the other Viktor has improved the design, he's made each subdivision double-jointed. 

Intriguing. Perhaps he should teach his opposite self about the arcane, as reimbursement. 

Your tongue licks a hot, slow stripe onto the end of the Machine Herald's thumb, and he breathes a half-sigh, half-huff, causing smoke to pour from the sides of his mask. 

There's warmth, coming from both of their figures. Just two different kinds of warmth. For the Arcane Herald, it's electric, like stars and static, racing across your skin. For the Machine Herald, it's more stifling, artificial. Like standing over a hot stove. It's the heat of countless individual parts of machinery, internal and external, all working in unison to support his processes. 

And you're starting to sweat. 

"Marvellous," Arcane-Viktor murmurs, oddly inquisitive. "Are they not?" 

Removing his thumb from your mouth, the metal slick with your saliva, the Machine Herald gives a rumbling hum of approval. 

"Yes. They are." 

Your throat tightens, suddenly dry. From above you, the all-powerful Herald of the Arcane tilts his head ever-so slightly, adjacent to an interested cat. He taps his thumb against your puffy bottom lip, as though he's considering repeating the display himself. Lingering residuals of magic thread through you faintly, tingling on your lips with each idle tap. 

When he decides against it, finally letting go of your face, Machine-Viktor is quick to grasp your chin with his Hexarm. Roughly guiding your gaze back in his direction. Selfishly recapturing your attention. 

Unfortunately, your attention is everywhere. It shifts, placed between the budding heat in your body, the weightlessness of your limbs as you're held in place, the press of metal armor to your thighs, the tracing of confident fingertips up your stomach. Your vision blurs around the edges, you can barely focus when you're this overwhelmed. 

Arcane-Viktor's palm is beginning to trace up your chest, and you wonder if he can feel your heart pounding, if either of them know how much you're enjoying this. Surely, they're well-acquainted. They fucking tower over you, and you're bare, you are pliant. For either version of them, for Viktor, you will always be just as they hypothesized. 

Obedient. 

"They are trembling. How curious," The Herald of the Arcane continues, but the deep, confident vibrato to his voice makes you believe your reaction is far from unexpected. "Theoretically, I could imagine this being too much for them." 

"No," The Machine Herald counters, "It is not." 

The Arcane Herald appears to express as much aversion as an unchanging expression is able to. His palm begins to trace back down, this time. With the same slow, methodical movements; possessive, in a way. Down to your stomach, stopping just above your pelvis. 

"You would truly place confidence in their ability to take us?" 

Hands suddenly grasping your thighs tighter, you're pulled closer, unintentionally grinding you against the ridges of his metal plating — you breathe a quick, pleasured noise, your thighs tremor hard, but you know his iron grip wouldn't let them fall — and the Machine Herald practically scoffs. 

"They will take all we give to them. Such is the essence of their potential." 

The Arcane Herald pauses, before he answers, "I believe in your own lingering sentimentality, Machine Herald, you may be vastly overestimating their limits." 

"It is not sentiment." The Machine Herald's voice is level. His thick accent curls around the words, tone rich with a downright ruthless sense of certainty. "Receptors in my central system have been allocated to measure their breathing. The pattern is not one of discomfort. They are rife with… eagerness." 

His Hexarm reaches for your neck, and your head tilts back submissively. As confirmation, your heart skips, your breath catches. Your gaze is heavy and pleading. He squeezes methodically, until your eyes are rolling back, and your arms are falling limp. 

Precise fingertips find your forehead, they muddle your every thought and function as their prying touch seeks to enter your mind. Your thoughts converge into a singular, tightly knit thread, pounding in echoes of pleasure. A hand brushes between your spread legs, finds where you are slick and aching — 

"Viktor-" 

Your voice is weak, desperate, shuddery from the lack of use. 

And to your delight, both of your overseers react. Machine-Viktor gives your thighs a firm squeeze, he caresses your throat fondly. Arcane-Viktor teases you. His fingertips purposefully prod your waiting entrance, and Gods, they feel like magic incarnate. 

They vibrate from the intensity of their own existence. You can feel every thrum, and each lush wave of the arcane, vibrating mercilessly against your sweetest spot. Then, just as you're beginning to believe you could come apart merely from this, his hand is delicately shifting away, and you're left to quiver around nothing. 

"Fuck," You're swearing, "Please- don't stop…" 

The Herald of the Arcane, as though he wasn't just mere moments away from sinking his fingers inside you, replies in a distinctly composed tone. "Humans can be such demanding creatures." 

The Machine Herald nearly sounds annoyed. "You have forgotten our initial objective. We may switch places, if you are convinced you cannot satisfy them." 

"Whatever occurred in your timeline, it is clear you never learned patience. We have time. Our research will prove most accurate when it is fleshed out to its fullest, not when it is rushed. Unless, perhaps you have discerned a solution to getting us out of this anomaly. Do share, Machine Herald." 

Machine-Viktor remains still. Utterly unreadable, as always. 

"Hold them." 

Everything happens so quickly, so flawlessly, you'd almost swear they planned this — Arcane-Viktor takes hold of your thighs, he keeps them spread while he leans your body against his chest. And Machine-Viktor grasps your face, squeezes your cheeks, his leather glove rough against your chin. He's so close, all you can see is the orange of his makeshift eyes. Bright and intimidating, clouding your view with polychrome shapes, like if you were to glance at the sun for too long. 

His touch is distinctly different, it is steady, resolute, determined. A single thick, metal finger drags through your arousal to first get the steel slick, and then he is pressing it inside; you can feel every small joint and deliberate ridge as he fills you. One of his manufactured digits is essentially the equivalent to three of yours. 

You're left to weakly slump against his copy, completely at his mercy as he fucks you open, completely at their mercy as the two of them watch you attentively. Focused on the way his digit disappears within you, how your chest heaves as you gasp and whine. 

"This is not enough stimulus," Arcane-Viktor ascertains. Matter-of-fact, his echoing voice perfectly stable. "Their thoughts are still clouded. Preferably, we would want them- their mind, and their body- to think only of us." 

"Not enough? I thought you believed they could not handle us both." Machine-Viktor scoffs. 

It's a challenge. An analytical assumption, and if his copy is anything like him, he knows it's a notion they'll enjoy deciphering. Together. With you as the subject. 

"Well?" The Machine Herald hums, "Are you willing to put your hypothesis to the test?" 

[azzibuckets]

want you for myself [paige bueckers]

paige bueckers x fem!reader

summary: some cute fluff where paige gets jealous of all the attention her brother is getting from you

a/n: i kinda rushed this so😭 it didn’t turn out the way i wanted

word count: 1.3k

masterlist

Normally, Paige loved how good you were with Drew. How whenever he started talking about school or basketball, you always raptly paid attention, asking questions and making jokes. She loved how gentle you were with him, how when he was being too loud you always managed to bring his energy down to a more appropriate level without yelling at him.

But right now, she couldn’t help but feel annoyed at how focused you were on Drew when you were supposed to be focused on her.

“And Dad bought me three new skins for my birthday! Here, let me show you all of them.” Drew scrambled to find his iPad, and for what seemed like the millionth time, Paige leaned into you, tugging your shirt sleeve at the elbow.

“Can we go now?” she whined. “You said we would watch the wolves game together.”

“Just give me a few more minutes,” you whispered back, not even bothering to look at her. “Let me see Drew’s skins.”

Paige loudly huffed. She was bored out of her mind. “The game’s starting in five minutes, you know,” she urged, widening her eyes to show her eagerness.

“I know, you just said that two minutes ago. You go on up first, I’ll be there in a few,” you said dismissively before enthusiastically throwing yourself into yet another conversation with Drew about Fortnite.

Grumbling under her breath, Paige went up the stairs, making sure to aggressively stomp to get her impatience across. When she reached the top, she turned around, but you didn’t seem to have noticed her attitude at all, eyes totally glued to Drew’s screen.

The Timberwolves vs Mavericks game started, but Paige couldn’t enjoy it without you. Her annoyance grew as she heard you and her little brother’s raucous laughs echoing from the basement. She clenched her jaw, wondering how you were more interested childish things like Fortnite (as if she hadn’t played that game for hours every night the past month) than a basketball game with your very sexy girlfriend.

Paige was able to ignore her frustrations momentarily and get lost in the game, but when Anthony Edwards scored a buzzer-beater three to end the first quarter and she jumped up and down, instinctively going to grab you out of excitement, she realized again that you still hadn’t come up. With a groan, she headed back downstairs.

This time, you and Drew were playing on the Nintendo, both of you fully zoned in on building your Minecraft world. “Hey.” You felt a flick on your head and turned around to see a grumpy Paige. “You just missed Ant’s best moment of the season,” she declared, hoping you’d feel disappointed at having missed the highlight.

But you only said, “Oh, damn,” before turning back to the screen.

Paige sighed and decided to try again. “He shot from full court to put the wolves up at the end of first,” she prodded, hoping you’d get excited. But you merely nodded before turning to Drew and asking if he wanted to switch to creative mode.

Paige switched tactics. “Drew,” she said in a sing-song voice. “I think your screen time is up.”

Drew wrinkled his eyebrow, not tearing his gaze from the TV. “I don’t have a screen time.”

Paige stepped in front of the TV, forcing both of you to finally look at her. “Do either of you want ice cream?” she tried, smiling hopefully. “I’ll drive us to Baskin Robbin’s.”

“I’m still pretty full from lunch,” you said, “but thanks babe.”

“Yeah, me too,” Drew agreed. “Can you move now?”

Paige begrudgingly moved aside, jaw tightened as she grinded her teeth. Returning back upstairs, she watched the rest of the NBA game in a brooding silence. She felt slightly immature for being jealous of the attention her brother was receiving from you, but she’d had a long day and all she wanted was to be in your arms, watching her favorite team play.

During dinner, Paige stayed quiet as you and Drew continued your conversation about whatever new game you’d moved onto playing. You were totally oblivious to her irritation of being neglected, thinking she was just sleepy. Paige perked up after dinner, thinking Drew would fall into a food coma and escape to his room, but instead he insisted on showing you two the clothes he’d bought recently.

“I saved the best for last,” Drew announced after twenty minutes of giving you two a detailed and intricate fashion show. He ran to the bathroom, then quickly reappeared in a neat black tuxedo, with a navy pin stripe tie finished with shiny leather oxfords.

“Oh my god!” you squealed, bending down to squeeze his cheeks. “You look so adorable.”

Drew blushed at the attention as you continued to shower him with praises. Paige’s mouth dropped as she glared at the two of you. “Are you serious?” she complained. “You never react like this when I show you my shopping hauls.”

You raised an eyebrow at your girlfriend. “Maybe that’s because you buy the same grey sweatpants each time.” Drew snickered and gave you a fist bump as Paige fought back a smile, trying to mask it under feigned annoyance.

“You two are unbelievable,” she declared. “I regret letting you guys meet.”

“You’re just mad your girlfriend likes me more than she likes you,” Drew shot back, earning another high five and round of giggles between the two of you.

Paige made a show of getting up from her seat. “Well, I’ll leave you two alone since you guys hate me so bad,” she said dramatically.

It was almost 1 AM when you silently crept up to Paige’s childhood bedroom. You and Drew had stayed up gaming for hours, long after Paige had gone up to finish some homework and study. You expected the blonde to already be fast asleep, but when you opened the door, she was using her phone in bed.

“P?” You whispered, startling her.

“Dude.” Paige fixed you with an unforgiving look after recovering from her shock. “It’s literally one. What were you guys doing that took so long?”

“Sorry,” you said sheepishly, letting the door quietly shut behind you. “We were really getting into it.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” Paige said, rolling her eyes. She plugged a charger into her phone and set it on the bedside table, clearly ready to go to sleep. You shrugged and headed to the bathroom to brush your teeth and get ready for bed. But when you climbed into bed and leaned over to give the blonde a kiss, she dodged it. Ignoring your confused stare, she rolled over, turning her back on you.

“Woah.” You tapped her shoulder. “What’s up with you?”

“What’s up with me?” Paige suddenly shot up straight in bed. “You spent the entire day ignoring me. I’m starting to think you’re only dating me to become friends with my little brother,” she complained.

A small smile slowly worked its way onto your face as realization dawned on you. Paige hadn’t been tired all day. “Aw, Paige,” you teased. “Are you jealous of your 10 year old brother right now?”

Realizing how ridiculous the situation sounded, Paige avoided eye contact with you, instead concentrating on pulling the comforter around her. “No,” she said unconvincingly, her voice tiny.

“I know you’re lying, baby,” you chuckled. You reached over to cup the blonde’s face in your hands, giving her an adoring look. “You’re so cute.”

“Stop it,” Paige blushed, swatting you away. “I’m still mad at you.”

“Hey, I never see your brother!” you defended. “You can’t get mad that I’m excited to see him.”

“I know,” Paige whined. “But you don’t have to totally ignore me.”

You felt a slight pang of guilt as you thought back to how you’d completely forgotten about the Timberwolves game that Paige had been so excited to watch with you. Granted, she was excited about every wolves game, but still. “Paige Madison Bueckers,” you intonated slowly, clasping your hands together. “I am immensely sorry for the pain I have caused you today.” You planted a big and sloppy kiss smack in the middle of her forehead, causing her to groan and wipe away the slobber. “You are the light of my life,” you said solemnly. “The apple of my eye. My favorite person on earth.”

Paige pursed her mouth, trying to prevent the corners of her lips from curving upwards. “And?”

“Never again will I ignore you or miss a wolves game.” You hesitated. “Wait, can I take back that last part? You watch so many of their games it’s hard to keep up-”

Paige’s eyes narrowed and you decided to cut yourself off before you dug a deeper hole. “Nevermind!” you said brightly. “I will never again forget to watch a wolves game with my beautiful, sexy, gorgeous, incredible girlfriend.”

The blonde beamed up at you. “That’s more like it.”

You toyed at the collar of her shirt, letting your fingers brush gently across the soft skin on her neck. Looking up at her through your lashes, you said as seductively as you could, “Now can I kiss you?”

“Fuck yeah,” she muttered, grabbing your hips and pulling you in.

[imyourbratzdoll]

I crave a good fluffy fic with wolverine, his wife is a badass and when someone threatens him she loses her shit and kicks their ass🫡 with so much disrespect.

hey baby, I'm so sorry for taking so long! I hope you enjoy what I did, it's a bit more violent than you probably wanted.

summary - a dumb 'bad guy' lures you and your husband out, things take an escalated turn when he threatens your husband.

warning - SUPER violent, like extreme level probably, swearing, mentions of sex, dude talks of touching what's his but nothing triggering, dick and balls suffer rip.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

You couldn’t believe this guy, he was really threatening your husband right in front of you. Thinking he was all tough because he could throw fire or some shit? You didn’t know what he could do, except talk a lot of shit. That was probably his power. What was his name again? Captain Talks Shit? Shits A lot? Little Fucker? Who cares, all you care about right now is that he’s threatening your man. 

You walk out of the shadows, having heard enough because honestly. Why do the bad guys always talk for so long? Have none of them realised or picked up from past bad guys mistakes? It was tiring and a waste of your time because you and Logan could’ve been gone by now, screwing each other silly, probably somewhere extremely risky. But, noooo. You had to listen to this jackass.

“Listen, dick licker. If you don’t stop threatening my fucking husband. I’m going to rip your arm off and beat you with it.” You growl, moving to stand in front of Logan. (Sure, he would have protected himself and it may look weak to the other guy that a woman is standing in front of an extremely large man, in more ways than one, wink wink. But you happen to know that this turns your husband on and who are you to deny him his fantasies?)

“Is that a threat?” Captain Dipshit sneers.

“Did it sound like a fucking compliment, Princess?” You watch as he eyes you, sizing you up and in his mind he’s probably thinking ‘yeah, I can take this chick.’ You hope his ego deflates before you kill him.

“Listen, Babe. This is between us men, now why don’t you run along and go make us a sandwich or something. Maybe put on some cute lingerie and wait for me in the bedroom ‘cause once I’m done with your husband here. You’ll be creamin’ around me.”

Logan shakes his head, stepping way back. He remembered when he accidentally said something similar and he was in a coma for a whole month, not even his fast healing could help him. 

It was like a switch turning on, the beast that lived within you had been released from its cage and not even God could save this man now. You stalked towards him, he still smirked thinking he was safe. You jump, wrapping your legs around his neck and twisting, bringing him down using a move your good friend Natasha had taught you. You move swiftly while he is down, sending a harsh kick to his face, hearing the satisfying crack of his nose and possibly jaw breaking. You grab him by his hair and lift him, a large grin covering your face as you bring him eye level with you. 

“You wanna repeat that, Princess?” You bring him closer, whispering in his ear. “How bout you go make me a sandwich, put on a cute set and I’ll bash your dick in with a baseball bat. How do ya like the sound of that? Cause I love it.” 

He struggles within your grip, trying to swing at you but with your other hand that isn’t gripping his hair. You snap his arms, relishing in the sound of bones breaking. His screams echo the warehouse, dumbarse had lured us in here without a backup plan or backup. 

You let go of your grip on his hair, immediately switching to gripping his throat instead. “You don’t like my plan, Princess? Rethinking the whole thing? Cause ya already pissed me off by threatening the man I love, but then you had the balls to say THAT? Tell me, Princess. Just between us girls. Did mummy not give you any hugs as a kid? Cause how did you think this was gonna go? You could’ve ‘killed’ the Wolverine, but he wouldn’t have stayed dead. No. But if he heard you touching me, touching what’s HIS. He would’ve torn you to shreds, but slowly. Very slowly. It’s what makes me love him.” You pat the man’s cheek, grinning as he winces. 

“How bout an apology and I won’t kill you.”

“F–fuck you.” He spits at you, SPITS. Not even clear fucking spit, this shit has blood in it. You lift your hand, wiping the spit with the back of it and then onto his clothes. 

Your face screwed up. “Well, that was stupid.” With quick movements, you throw him, watching him crash into a wall so hard that it leaves a dent. Your hand reaches out and a bat flies into it. “You’re not wearing that cute set and I don’t have a sandwich, but this will do.” He tries to shuffle away, his eyes wide. You stalk toward him and swing, smashing his dick and balls with one hit. Think Superman merged with Hulk strength, how do you think his twig and berries did?

A scream rips out of his mouth before his eyes roll back and he falls backwards. You frown and poke him with your bat. “Hey mista, you dead?” You look at Logan, “Bitch passed out.” He shakes his head at the pout on your lips. 

He walks over and places a kiss on your head, “C’mon, let’s go home now or better yet. You ready to do something real risky, Sweets.” Your eyes light up.

“Do you mean…?!”

Logan nods, smirking. “I’ll finally let you fuck me while I drive.” Your squeals escape as you jump into his arms, smothering his face with kisses.

“OH THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU! You’re the best husband a woman could ask for!” And with that, Logan carries you out as you stare at him dreamily.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

a/n: 2.1k w.count- boothill needs a lil tune up [...y'all should've seen this one comin' honestly]

you're not sure why you bother setting an alarm every time you go to sleep. you don't even know when you'll be sleeping for one; it could be in the afternoon, it could be in the morning, it could be for ten minutes at your workbench, and on the rare occasion, you can even go to bed at night like everyone else. although, that last option when blessed upon you, never lasted the whole night.

as for the original dilemma of alarm clocks? who needs 'em! the critters getting into your shop and wrecking your tools around were a surefire way to get your blood pumping with a wild chase around the shop with a hefty, swinging wrench. kids stopping by to see the newest hunk-of-junk thing you've been tinkering with or maybe even bringing you some toy to fix with whimpering chins are always sure to keep you awake- you couldn't send them away with smashed hopes. perhaps it was a good natured older lady or gentlemen just stretching their legs one fine morning after you had pulled an all nighter, but now you have to entertain their gossip well into the morning past the ass-crack of dawn because you can't be a bad host!

this instance, however, just so happens to be the familiar sound of heavy, metal boots clanking their way through the shop's public entrance. the sound of the stomping reverberates around your small little rest room at the back of your shop through the camera feed you keep running at all hours (mostly for those critters previously mentioned). having just fallen asleep on top of being hyperaware of sounds from the feed, your eyes fly open. with a well-overdramatic, one-person show worthy groan evolved to frustrated yell, you were throwing your shabby blanket off your legs.

"wakey, wakey!" the synthetic voice of an overly familiar man projects into your room.

you stomp across the room in two short strides. slamming your palm down on a button attached to a small table with all sorts of other switches and knobs, the small indicator that audio is feeding from your microphone kicks on as red as your temper.

"the hell do you want?" you growl, voice muffled at the end of your exhausted question by your free hand running down your face. you hear his voice chuckle on the other end. peering through your fingers into the video screen, he had moved to stand away from your shop door. his arms are crossed across his metallic chest, chin tilted up so his one eye can gaze into the camera that follows his movements.

"now, now, sugar," he chuckles, "just open the door, would ya'? i could use some fixin' up." as if trying to coax you into letting him in, he waves one of his arms around by the elbow.

you're not sure if he heard you click your tongue before you lifted your hand off the audio feed button, but he chuckles nonetheless as the soft click of disconnection echoes on his end. he knew you'd come racing to the door... well, at the very least you wouldn't leave him out to dry.

the cowboy dips his chin and chuckles under his breath as the brim of his hat shadows his face. he could hear you stomping your way towards him and just imagining your irritated face with a possibly twitching brow was highly amusing to him.

the door in front of his toes swings open inwards and the rush of air as it did so flutters his long bangs that always covered the right side of his face. his chin rises a fraction, and he was right. your face was assuming.

standing in a wrinkled shirt that you no doubt had been trying to sleep in, arms crossed and a crease so deep in your brows he was tempted to push his thumb between them.

"well," he starts, swaying his hunk of metal bodyweight to one of his equally metal legs, "ain't you a sight for sore eyes."

"what. do you want." you hiss. before he gives you a verbal answer, his arm swings down and swipes something from his pocket before presenting it in front of your face. your eyes nearly go crossed to examine it. then you're looking back up at him, not any more amused than before. "is this supposed to be a bribe?"

the cowboy shrugs playfully, twisting the covered candied sucker between his fingers.

"do ya' want it to be?"

you roll your eyes, bringing your arm up to snatch the small boost of sugar from him. "just get in here, boothill." you sigh, free hand coming to rub your forehead. turning your body to retreat back into your home, the clanking of him following behind echoes at your back.

boothill whistles at the state of the familiar shop he'll find himself in from time to time for quick fix-ups. a workbench loaded with heaps of scrap metal, tools, random bobbles, and screws all littered on top of pages and printed blueprints of projects or repairs. it's even more of a chaotic mess than last time. he sits on the stool he normally snags as his when he's here and, without speaking, you're hooking up a small machine attached to the wall next to the bench and offering him the end of a circular cord.

"need a charge?" you ask with a small lisp from the candy you had already unwrapped and placed in your mouth against your cheek.

"well, why not," he entertains. taking the thick, extendable cord from your hand and plugging it into the port on his lower back.

you flit around a few other places before your snagging a stoll for yourself and placing it in front of his knees. you push some estranged tools around with your forearm and, while moving your sucker from one cheek to the other, you begin to maneuver your hair out of your face.

boothill enjoys watching you in this way. it felt familiar- just seeing someone move around in rather mundane ways. this small sense of domesticity was familiar and comfortable. it calmed him; reminding him of home.

"what's the problem?" you finally ask, looking a tad bit more awake and more or less ready to work on whatever issue he had to present.

his right arm moves to cross his lap and his palm bangs twice on his opposing forearm where his internal revolver barrel is.

"i got myself in quite a fuss with this dang thing. forkin' bullet got jammed in the goose-dud thing and i can't even pop the barrel open to reload it."

you stare at him like he just said the dumbest thing you've ever heard. "you came all the way here. because your arm got jammed by a bullet." the way you spoke sounded exactly how you looked at him.

"this ain't no one-handed fix, sugar." you stay quiet, not willing to admit he had a point. using both hands to not only try and pop open the jam, but also tinker around with what was essentially his whole arm's motion control- that did require a bit more finesse than just slamming his arm on a wall until it gave way... which is precisely what you could imagine him doing.

"fine," you yield. "take off that sorry excuse of a 'jacket' unless you want that sleeve covered in oil."

you twist away from him, half-standing at a strange angle to reach across your workbench for something as the satisfying sound of the bottom of his small zipper unlatches. shrugging it off, he tosses it onto your bench, covering a few loose tools and scribblings of paper.

you fully get out of your stool and trot over to the other side of the shop to roll over a smaller table with a metal tub. you wheel it to his left and, without instruction, boothill lays his arm over it.

as you begin to tinker around with his arm, picks, pliers, oil and all working on trying to dislodge the stray bullet that had caused such an issue, boothill has taken to lounging comfortably as he watches.

his right arm, free of any issues or problem fixing, was propped up on the corner of your workbench at his side with his forearm resting along the edge. his metal fingers had snagged a stray nail from the workspace and had been twirling it absent-mindedly between his knuckles like a bullet.

the only words spoken between you both as you worked was the occasional quick apology if something you did prods against a wire that sent a shock up his arm or made his fingers twitch.

"easy. last thing we need ya' doin' is settin' my gun off, sugar," he had told you. just because his arm machinery wasn't properly loaded- ain't nothing was stopping you from accidentally relodging the bullet and sending it through your wall. the sudden discharge coupled with his exposed wires could easily kick his arm back with enough recoil to knock you clean out with how close you were leaning in to see what you were doing.

"okay..!" you whisper to yourself before the sound of something sliding down in his arm is followed by a sensation; one he was almost familiar with. "give me a wrench. heavy," you instruct. on hand was spread across his forearm just at the start of the revolver barrel, the other outstretched towards your bench. grabbing the nearest one, he slaps it into your palm.

with a two, heavy whacks using your newly acquired wrench, you slam the barrel shut and boothill lets out a small breath.

"now, that feels a heck of a lot better," he chuckles. you reach around his forearm, release the tension latch and the barrel swings out successfully. with your pliers, you easily remove one problematic, greasy bullet. "knew i could count on you to get the job done."

"and thanks to you, my hands are gross," you chide. fingers greased in oil. boothill grabs a rag from your workbench drawer and tosses it over your sullied hands. you start working the cloth between your fingers the moment it hits your skin. "i recommend you stick around and charge up before heading out on whatever you got lined up next."

"shucks, you mean it?" you can't tell if he's genuinely thankful you'd allow him to stay or if he was just being facetious. once your hands were at least dry, you start using it to wipe down his arm next.

"course i do. i'll have to give you a quick check again before you go. i'll mess around and try and make it so it doesn't jam like that again. whatever tech-doc you worked with before really needed to focus on the finer details." boothill wondered if you knew that you had lifted his newly repaired limb and started rotating and twisting it like you were admiring your work. like you were admiring him.

"they don't matter no more," he tells you. "i got ya' now, don't i? who needs some random rear shirt-bag, when i got the best in the forkin' business right here?"

"careful now. flattery will get your everywhere."

"no shirt?"

"watch your mouth," you tease before you stand. "i mean it though. stay put and charge."

"i ain't no stupid electronic," he clicks. his body moves and twists so both of his arms are now leaning on the workbench behind him. both elbows supporting him as his arms dangle off the ledge. "but I hear ya'." his eye shuts under the shadow of his hat.

his eye reopened no sooner than it shut when the shadow caused by the brim of his cowboy hat disappeared and the light of your shop flitered through his eyelids. with a clear, open eye, he lifts his chin to see you standing in front of him.

you had pinched the brim of his hat between your fingers, snatching it off his head and revealing the fullness of his long, dual-colored hair and cross-hair-infused eye. you take his hat and nonchalantly toss it behind his right shoulder to avoid getting any residual oil from his left arm on it.

"take your damn hat off inside my shop will you? you don't need it." you turn away from him as he continues to stare at your back, slack jawed. you mutter something about washing your hands and arms before you disappear behind a doorway and around the corner of the wall. he'd been in the entirety of your shop before, so he knows where you went but all he could think about was you flicking his hat off him.

the cowboy let his head fall backward, the hair on the backside of his skull tangling with screws and pencils as his right hand comes to rest over his face. he can hear the water running in the other room.

"ah, son of a nice lady...!"

boothill has really got to tell you not to mess with his hat.

a/n: one day i'll write a flirty hat rule fic. *sigh* one day.

[hypewinter]

The boy had fallen out of the sky. To be more exact, he had fallen out of a portal that had opened in the sky. He then proceeded to land face first next to Batman. As he looked up to see everyone gathering around him, he tried to speak. It was a weird cacophonous sound, a garble that was a mix between static and echoes. Everyone covered their eyes and Nightwing yelled out, "We can't understand you!"

Just like that the cacophony stopped. Everyone uncovered their ears as the boy whispered, "Sorry."

Now that he was sitting up, they were able to get a good look at him. The boy from had Lazarus green eyes and starch white hair that did not obey gravity. His body also has an ethereal glow to it. Everything was a blur after that. They ended up bringing the boy back to the cave when they noticed he was bleeding profusely. Batman wanted to bring him to a hospital instead but he got so panicked when that idea was mentioned and looked like he was about to bolt, so the cave it was.

The boy had barely maintained consciousness as he babbled on about getting away from someone and hoping they would let him stay for a few days to recover. As he rambled, Alfred began peeling back his styled hazmat suit to reveal everyone a sickening Y shaped scar running down his torso which oozed a distinct green color. Alfred had patched him up as quickly and steadily as possible, being guided through how to do it from the boy himself. Apparently whatever his physiology was, it didn't work like a human's. Soon after he was patched up, the boy (Danny as they found out) lost consciousness.

The boy in front of them completely changed after white rings had formed around him. His white hair was now raven black, his skin had taken on a healthy tan, his stylized suit had become a T-shirt and jeans, his blood turned red. By all accounts, this was not the same unknown they had just saved. Unless?

"Do you think he's similar to the Martians?" Tim asked.

Everyone turned to him, their gears already turning. Nevertheless, Batman spoke. "Explain," he said.

"Well you know, how they can change themselves to blend in. And he was talking about hiding from someone. What if he, I don't know, decided to just try to blend in with us."

Dick piped up next. "I mean, considering how many of us are running around, it wouldn't be hard. And look at his face. It's the perfect mix of all of us. He probably decided the best way to fit in would be to look a little bit like all of us. It'd be the best way to throw off his pursuer."

"Or pursuers," Jason cut in.

"And how can we be sure he stopped at just faces?" Damian inquired.

Now everyone was looking at him.

The former assassin puffed out his chest but it was clear from the slight rigidness of his stance that he didn't like everyone's attention on him.

"Tch. I am simply stating that if he truly wanted to blend in with us, he might as well copy our mannerisms as well. He has already copied our speech."

That was true. He had easily switched his speech once Dick had started talking. Of course they couldn't rule out the potential that he had simply known the language beforehand but considering how many aliens Earth got that could instantly adopt a new language, the former theory held more ground.

"Hmm. That may be true. Naturally we'll do our best to hide him from any pursuers. But-"

"Don't you mean you'll do your best to convince him to let you adopt him?" Steph interrupted with a cheeky grin.

"But," Bruce continued on, "we will need to make sure he doesn't imprint on us too much. We'll encourage him to be his own person and try out things that he enjoys so that when all of this is over, he can live independently of us. That being said, I want you all on your best behavior. We want to try to ingrain as many healthy behaviors into him as possible. That means no threats, no violence, no unhealthy sleeping habits, and no extreme intakes of coffee. And I clear?"

There were various mumbles and groans throughout the group and one particularly indignant squawk from Tim. "I said am I clear?" Bruce repeat. The group answered yes in unison. "Good. Then dismissed."

Everyone filed out of the cave one by one. Some went back to their own home and safehouses. Some hit the showers. And some headed straight upstairs. Finally there was only Bruce left. He looked down at Danny still sound asleep on the table. Making sure this boy was protected and cared for for while also making sure he didn't get too attached and therefore dependent on everyone was better said than done. Still, Bruce would make it happen, after all, he was Batman.

I got this idea from the lovely @damngirlidk . Truly a great idea.

[sageispunk]

foolish (18+)

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x black!reader

↳ "cause i can't seem to break away from your foolish love"

wordcount: 1.8k+

warnings: rpf 🫣, angst, infidelity, smut, bathroom sex, cunnilingus, fingering, mention of squirting, situationships, the word "bimbo" used derogatorily, asshole!Lewis in a sad boy way

A/N: wrote this off an edible and no sleep, slightly inspired by @ham1lton 's toxic Lewis AU drabble and my ongoing need for some good angst, hope u enjoy <3 || like, reblog + comment pls!! follow my notif page @sageispunklibrary to be notified when i upload new writings 🫶🏾

You always found yourself back here. Hiding away from everyone with your hands over your mouth as Lewis knelt between your thighs. His gracious tongue traced circles around your swollen clit before he sucked the bud into his mouth, becoming your own personal rose toy. The suction his pink lips provided had you squirming and shaking as you leaned against the bathroom counter. “Lew, please…”

His eyes fluttered shut as one of your hands grasped his braids in a failed attempt to pull him away from your core. You could feel him whine into your pussy in protest, his own hands strengthening their grasp on your hips. Your muffled cries echoed in the bathroom, and your mind wasn’t clear enough to take the hint to keep fucking still so you continued to thrash against his hold. 

“Fuuucckkkk…” The whine left your mouth as you threw your head back, unable to keep your eyes focused on the beautiful man currently eating you like you were his last meal. Lewis suddenly released your clit from his mouth, landing a swift slap on your pussy which caused you to jump and yelp, bringing your attention back down to him. Before you could even get a word out, he began, “Eyes on me, sweetheart,” He left a soft kiss on your right inner thigh. “...and stop trying to run from me, y’know this pussy is mine.” You wanted to roll your eyes at the smirk growing on his face but those thoughts were erased from your mind as you watched him switch to your other thigh, kissing and biting your soft mahogany skin hard enough to leave a mark. 

With a pout on your face, you decided not to be too bratty, keeping your focus on Lewis as he replaced his tongue on your pussy, alternating between flicking your clit and tongue-fucking your needy hole. You sucked your bottom lip into your mouth, biting down onto it a bit too hard just to keep from making too much noise, even with the music vibrating through the walls from the main floor underneath you two.

He watched you from below, in complete adoration at the dewy, sensual, flustered look on your face. Although he was never one to brag, Lewis was very aware of how talented he was in the bedroom, especially with you. Having been off and on for several years, and best friends for years before that, there was almost nothing that he didn’t know about you, including how to pleasure you. He knew which pattern to trace with his tongue to make you cum the hardest, he knew how many fingers it took to make you squirt three feet across the room, and he also knew the exact angle to fuck you in just to get you creaming around his dick in under a minute. 

Something Lewis didn’t know was the fact that his current “girlfriend” was currently walking down the long hallway in search of him, considering he’s been missing from the party for a good fifteen minutes or so already. He wanted to take his time with you tonight, after having not seen you for months–since he began dating this new girl. She was just a distraction, truly…both of you were tired of the back and forth, and after the last time you ended things with him, he didn’t know what to do with himself besides busy himself with work and whatever new bimbo he got a hold of. Now, he was craving you, and you were craving him, so it wasn’t much of a surprise when he whisked you away upstairs, cockily smiling at the fact that you followed him away from the crowd. Like old times.

He removed his mouth from your throbbing cunt once more, this time bringing his middle and ring fingers up to his lips. Your eyebrows furrowed as you watched him soak his tattooed fingers with a mixture of his saliva and your pussy juices, leaving them slick and shiny before placing them onto your lower lips. Your hips circled lazily, craving him inside of you, whether it be his fingers, his dick, or even his tongue again. 

“What d’ya need, baby? Hm?�� 

His fingers slowly and softly trailed a figure eight pattern over your pussy lips, careful not to make contact with your ever needy clit. Without halting his teasing, Lewis slowly came to a stand, caging you in on the counter. The lack of space between your faces had your heart rate increasing, all of your air seemingly getting sucked out of the room as you felt the strong urge to kiss and hold and love the man in front of you. His brown eyes captivated you, wiping from your mind all the reasons that you should not be here right now. 

Your right hand flew up to his face, caressing his left cheek with a gentleness that he’d been missing for far too long. He leaned in more, not stopping until your foreheads were mushed together, both of you breathy and surrounded by an air of tension. “Tell me what you need.” Whispered this time, his words sent a shiver down your spine, your body subconsciously jolting up and being reminded of his soaked digits right outside of where you needed him the most. 

“Please fuck me, Lewis, I need to feel you–” A loud gasp escaped your lips at the feeling of Lewis suddenly plunging his long fingers deep into your core. He was through taking his time, an urgent need to see and feel you quivering around him overwhelming his mind. His dick throbbed in his pants, tightly straining against the fabric of his expensive briefs. The gushing sounds emanating from his movements in and out of your pussy had the both of you swooning, you creeping up to your peak already. He kept up the pace, notching his fingers at the perfect angle to get you right where he wanted you, falling apart for him on this countertop.

Lewis used his free hand to pull you in by the back of your head, allowing your lips to mash together with a frenzied passion. He stole each moan and whimper straight from your mouth with his own tongue as you came on his fingers, your core tight and legs trembling. All you could focus on was the softness of his lips against yours and his fingers slowing down inside you, everything fitting together nearly perfectly. 

Knock knock knock! “Lewis are you in there?!”

Both of your eyes widened at the voice right outside the door, bodies frozen as you came to a sobering realization of what you were doing. Fooling around with a taken man, a man who happened to be your ex? Your ex-situationship? Ex-something, but that didn’t matter as much as the fact that he had a whole girlfriend now. 

She knocked again a second later, and Lewis returned his gaze to you, silently urging you to say something, whilst his fingers remained inside you. You sighed, closing your eyes and shouting through the door, “He’s not in here, I think I saw him heading out back earlier though!”

“That’s the first place I looked… but okay, he’s probably around here somewhere.” You stayed put where you were until you heard her further down the hall, checking other rooms for him. 

Lewis let out a sigh of relief. “That was close..” He leaned back in to resume your previous activities before you turned away, obviously unsettled by the close call and reality check. “Baby…” His eyes softened as he pulled his drenched fingers out of you. 

“Don’t–don’t fucking ‘baby’ me, you have a girlfriend Lewis! What in the actual fuck are we doing here?!” You whisper-yelled, all the frustration of your current situation and the entire context of your relationship with Lewis all of a sudden hitting you like a freight train. You avoided his eyes as you hopped off the counter, looking around for your handbag and phone. Both were dropped on the floor in a frenzy and you’d only hoped that your screen wasn’t cracked. 

“C’mon, d’you really think she means more to me than you do? Really?” He stepped back and watched you attempt to gather yourself, eyes focused hard on your face as if he was trying to read through your now hardened demeanor. 

“I don’t fucking know, you what, made her your official girlfriend after fucking her for two weeks, but I–who you claim to care about sooo much–couldn’t even get a proper label after TWO YEARS of loving and caring for you?? I don’t know Lewis, what does that look like to you?” 

You were hurt, still hurt over no longer being with him the same way you’d been for so long, and this little meeting of yours didn’t do much to help with those feelings. Your eyes met finally and you could read the hurt written across his face as well, but as soon as you saw it, it disappeared even quicker, replaced with his usual cocky, unbothered expression. 

“Y’know what? You’re right, I shouldn’t have even brought you in here, it was a mistake…” His words sent a pang of sadness through your chest, and even more so the way he was just ready to let you go. Again. 

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, checking yourself one last time in the mirror above the sink. “You’re an asshole, Hamilton.” You turned and he silently stepped to the side, allowing you to make your way out of the small bathroom. “Have a nice life.” Your heels clicked down the hall, the direction opposite than where his girlfriend went. You held back your tears for as long as you could, managing a quick Irish exit from the loud and crowded party before they finally fell, clouding your vision as you typed away on your phone to request a ride home. 

In the five minutes it took for the car to arrive, you allowed your brain to give you a slideshow on every reason you and Lewis wouldn’t work out, from your busy schedules and constant butting heads, in addition to his avoidance of claiming you as his own. You finally decided on hitting that precious block button on every app you could find on your phone, your method of ceasing all contact with him, a way to prevent you from experiencing this pain all over again. 

On the other hand, Lewis remained in the bathroom for a few moments, not knowing exactly how to proceed from here. He knew that messing with you while in his current predicament wouldn’t necessarily score him any points with you, but he couldn’t help the natural gravitation that pulled you two together every time you were in each others’ presence. His goal definitely wasn’t to hurt you more than he already has, but he couldn’t help but think that maybe this was the only way to make sure you wouldn’t come back, to ensure your peace and happiness, even if it meant he’d never see you again. 

i do not give permission for anyone to copy, translate, or repost any of my works. 18+ ONLY -- i am not responsible for the content you consume.

[leaentries]

threes a crowd | nico hischier & luke hughes

summary: nico guiding his girl through having two men.

warnings: smut, dom!nico vibes, vibrator use, choking, p in v (protected), blowjob, deep-throating, slight masturbation, threesome, slight degradation (use of slut), praise, little to no major plot, not proofread

a/n: i feel like this was a long time coming. anyways, i think the ending is a little rushed but i hope yall enjoy! :)

The intense vibrations shot through your body like lightning.

“Fuck!” You threw your head back.

Luke’s gaze admires your worn body covered in a sheen layer of sweat. His eyes were wide with curiosity as he upped the level of the lilac toy.

You felt like you were gonna burst out of your skin. The pleasure burned through every vein, every nerve you had. Panting, you reached up to grab the pillow by your head. It was almost too much for you.

“Careful, Luke. Don’t want to make her cum too fast.”

Your eyes shot open at the thick accent that echoed through the room. Lost in the heat of it all, you nearly forgot about the Swiss man you call your boyfriend.

In all fairness, the amount of orgasms that had been coaxed out of your spent cunt were unbelievable. Paired with the fact that Nico watched every twitch of your body that Luke provided was alluring. You felt drunk.

Nico’s hand moved to switch the vibrator off, gently taking it from Luke’s hand. Both, you and Luke, released sounds of displeasure.

He simply raised an eyebrow at the both of you, matching it with a curt, “Stop being brats.”

You rolled your eyes, distaste filling the empty trails where the sweet pleasure of climax had once been building.

Luke peered down, not sure what to do next. He was more bashful than his normal chatty personality. But you could only narrow that down to the fact that it wasn’t every day your captain let you in his bed. Let alone with his girlfriend.

“Don’t make me show Luke how to punish you, baby.”

Luke’s face grew hot.

Punish you?

The mere thought of doing something to edge on your pleasure and bring you teetering, or even have you begging was enough to make Luke’s cock jump and his stomach twirl. He had never felt this way before, nor made a woman shake with pleasure, but he sure as hell wasn’t complaining.

His body ignited with tingling sensations at every brush of your hand on his bicep as you tried not to clench your thighs together.

“Lukey wouldn’t do that to me,” You turned to Luke with big eyes and battered lashes, “Would ya, Lukey?”

Luke swallowed harshly at your gaze. His cock was weeping.

“Uhm-” He was at a loss for words.

Nico’s hand moved to your throat before Luke could intervene. Long, thick fingers curled themselves slightly around your neck, sending a pleasured high to your brain.

“I thought I told you not to be a brat?” Nico’s words were harsh and mean, but the way his lips left bruises against your jaw proved he wasn’t as mad as you thought.

Luke watched as your body writhed under the large form of his captain. His mind was hazy as he studied the faces you’d make when Nico sucked on a specific spot by your collarbone. Once Nico pulled away, he turned to face Luke.

“I want you to make her feel good. Can you do that, Luke?”

The question rung coarse, Luke nodded hesitantly.

You opened your legs teasingly, your soaked folds gleaming in the lamp light. Luke switched places with Nico, now resting on his knees in between your thighs. Your boyfriend made his way to the cushioned chair in the room, his proud cock smacking against his abdomen as he sat down.

Nico could sense Luke’s hesitation by the way his hands meekly began to run up your thighs.

“Be harder with her,” He smirked, “My baby won’t break.”

Luke looked to you for approval. You nodded at him encouragingly. As he began to grow more comfortable and confident with his movements, he slowly trailed his long fingers to trace your clit.

“Mmm,” You bit your lip with a moan. Waves of gentle pleasure began to roll through your tummy. The slow paces of Luke’s circles were teasingly amazing. They added just enough pleasure to ignite that fire inside of you once more.

Turning your head to the side, your eyes met Nico’s blazing ones. His eyes were so blown out in lust they looked black. Nico’s chest heaved as you could see the remnants of precum dripping from his swollen tip.

You bit your lip at the sight.

“Like what ya see, schatzi?” Nico smirked at you.

You nodded desperately. You had to swallow a wanton moan as Luke applied more pressure to your clit. It was overwhelming. You tried to keep your eyes open as you watched Nico slowly spread the precum from his tip over his shaft. He gripped the base lightly, tilting his head back.

“Such a slut for me, huh?” Nico asked aloud, “You have another man playing with that pretty pussy, yet you can only look at me.”

You whined.

Although what he was saying wasn’t a total lie. Nico knew you belonged to him and he also knew that no matter who was touching you, he’d always know your body best.

The agonizing pace of Luke’s fingers began to frustrate you, you needed more.

“Tell Luke what you need, baby.” Of course. Nico could always tell when you needed something extra help bring you to your release.

Luke’s eyes met yours immediately, scared he wasn’t pleasing you. He retracted his fingers, not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

“Need you inside me, Lukey.”

Oh fuck.

Luke could have sworn he almost came on the spot. His cock throbbed at your tone of voice, balls clenching with need. He couldn’t agree fast enough, frantically searching for a condom.

Now, even though Nico was being nice enough to let Luke have the privilege of fucking you, it was not going to be without protection. Nobody but Nico was allowed to enter you raw. That was something he wasn’t gonna give up.

As you watched Luke remove himself from the bed to grab a condom, you reached for Nico, signaling you wanted him to come over to you. Nico rose, his delicious cock shining beautifully as he walked to you. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled his lips to crash into yours.

Nothing could compare to the warm taste of Nico’s lips.

You pulled away, panting as you caught your breath. “I want you too, Neeks.”

Nico smiled at your shy request. “Yeah?” He cocked his head to the side, “You want me to fill that pretty mouth?” His thumb pulled your bottom lip down slightly.

“Please.” You whimpered.

He nodded in acknowledgment, “Okay, schatzi. Whatever you want.”

As Luke turned to make his way towards the bed, he noticed Nico’s presence. He remained stoic, unsure of how to proceed.

“C’mon Luke,” He called the younger boy over as you positioned yourself on your hands and knees, “You can get behind her.”

Luke practically scrambled behind you, his cock eager to plunge deep inside of your velvet walls. He grabbed onto your hips, as Nico moved in front of you.

“Ready, baby?” Nico met your eyes with concern.

You replied with a confident, “Yes,” your body buzzing with anticipation.

Nico nodded toward Luke, giving him the go-ahead. Luke dragged his tip from your clit up to your throbbing hole, taking his time to spread your arousal. He finally sunk in, stretching you out deliciously. Your jaw dropped in a silent scream as Luke eased himself in further. You felt the room grow hotter, your breath picking up at the slight burn Luke’s dick sent through you.

Nico took this as an opportunity to pump himself a few times, before lightly tapping your lips. You opened your eyes at him, tears already beginning to form as Luke started to thrust.

“Open,” Nico demanded.

You obliged gratefully, jaw going slack to compensate for Nico’s size. Your eyes rolled back as you felt both of your soaking holes simultaneously being filled to the brim. You felt so full.

Your mind was hazy as both men found a comfortable pace. Luke’s hands dug deeper into your hips, his head thrown back in a whine.

“Fuck,” He cursed, “So tight.”

You spasmed around his cock, as Nico fisted your hair tightly. You brought up your right hand to hold onto Nico’s thigh, a feeble attempt to ground yourself. Hallowing your cheeks and breathing through your nose, Nico’s cock slipped deeper into your throat. He swallowed roughly, feeling his stomach tighten at the sight of your ass bouncing back against Luke’s pelvis.

“Doing such a good job for us, schatzi,” His head fell forward with pleasure, “Always such a good girl.”

You whined appreciatively around his length, feeling your own pleasure begin to build. You squeezed impossibly tighter around Luke, drawing curses from the curly haired boy’s mouth.

He shook his head, “Not gonna last, fuck.”

Luke’s abdomen clenched as his impending orgasm hurled towards him. He gradually slowed his pace, reaching a hand over your body to rub sloppy circles into your clit.

Another one of Nico’s rules; Luke couldn’t cum until you did.

Dropping your head, Nico’s cock sprung up, “Fuck! Gonna cum!”

You felt your climax hit you unexpectedly hard, pussy gripping Luke’s cock like a vice. The added pressure sent Luke over the edge, his body collapsing forward at the impact of his finish. He shot thick white ropes into the condom, making sure to leave a bite mark or two on your shoulder.

Nico pumped his cock steadily, the sight of your fucked out form and teary eyes were enough to have him painting your chest and chin white with his seed. Your orgasm lasted longer than Luke’s, the boy beginning to whine from overstimulation as he fucked you through the entirety of your climax.

As you finally finished, Luke pulled out slowly. You grimaced at the cool sensation of air on your over-sensitive folds. You felt a body collapse next to yours on the bed, another moving to wipe the spent from your chest.

You sat there a moment, too tired to open your eyes.

“You okay, pretty girl?” Luke’s voice echoed lightly in your ear.

You smiled at his concern, “Never better.” Your voice came out in a hoarse whisper.

“Yeah, sit up, baby.” Nico came to your side to help you up. “Here, drink some water.” You felt a hand help you hold the cup, but your mind was too far gone to really comprehend who was doing what.

After you had been properly taken care of and dressed in a hoodie, Nico filled in the spot next to you, pulling you into his body.

He kissed your temple, mumbling into your hair, “You did amazing, schatzi. Thank you for making us feel so good.”

Luke watched with big eyes, staring from the foot of the bed. His hand fidgeted nervously with the sweats he had on, unsure of what to do. Luke was still new to the whole ordeal, after all.

“Come here, Lukey.” You lifted your arm on the left side of your body, signaling for Luke to lay down. Not wasting another second, Luke curled into your side, your fingers moving to situate themselves into his curls.

You leaned up to give a gentle kiss to Nico’s lips before settling back down and closing your eyes. You felt warm and cozy, the comforter now thrown over the three of you. The quiet hum of the fan provided a sense of familiarity to an otherwise, strange situation. Yet, you couldn’t have been more content.

Surrounded by your boys, you fell asleep almost instantly, your body worn by the previous activities. Luke followed suit, your hand drawing coaxing patterns in his scalp. Nico placed a final kiss on your head, snuggling deeper into your hair as, he too, succumbed to his drooping eyelids.

[lets-try-some-writing]

Emergency Protocols

Cybertronians cannot be alone. To be alone is a death sentence. There is a reason they travel in groups, and with the war in its last gasp, their numbers are dangerously low on both sides.

Faced with a fate far worse than mere death, things are tense. Unfortunately, both sides are forced to endure a rude and horrific wakeup call when the first of many falls victim to the process they had all hoped to escape.

(Big warning for robogore.)

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

“I apologize, Mrs. Darby. I am afraid I cannot abide by your wishes.” Optimus stood firmly, his expression dark in a way Jack had never seen before. Next to him, Ratchet watched the scene like a hawk, his eyes bright and intense to such a degree that Jack involuntarily felt himself shuddering. The rest of the Autobots also seemed frozen as they observed in quiet grimness that was so unlike them that it was almost frightening.

Something had changed over the last few months. Ever since the Darkmount incident, the team had been… off. Jack didn’t claim to be any sort of expert, but it didn’t take a degree to see that the bots were more somber. Even Smokescreen, the most excitable of the group, spent more and more of his time pacing. Every single bot was out of sorts, always hanging around the main part of the hangar and never wandering far unless directly ordered by Optimus. Arcee wouldn’t even drive Jack home anymore. Jack, Miko, and Raf were almost always taken home by his Mom or by Fowler.

The worst part, at least in Jack’s opinion, was the way the bots always stopped to stare whenever he and his friends left. Whatever they were doing halted immediately and they all paused, watching critically as they left the hangar to get a ride back into Jasper with Fowler more often than not. It was a small detail, but oftentimes they seemed twitchy when it came time for Jack, Miko, and Raf to head to and from school.

They were almost upset by it, if Jack had to guess.

“You are NOT taking the kids to go talk to Megatron of all people! What the hell is wrong with you?!” Jack wanted to flinch as his Mom screamed, her face contorted in rage so bright it almost had Jack wishing he could shuffle away. But of course, he knew that wasn’t an option. The situation was tense enough that even Miko was quiet as she held Raf’s arm, trying to find some comfort as the scene unfolded.

“You already keep them here overnight whenever you can! And now you want to bring them out to face the giant metal beacon of DEATH that almost took over the world?!” His Mom’s voice echoed in the base, but not a single one of the bots moved. They all stood quietly, stiffly, even as they observed. All that could possibly be picked up from them was the faint sounds of their engines running and the ever-so-slight twitching of their eyes.

The bots had always been clingy. Jack had never been able to figure out why they’d tried to shoo him and his friends away only to then refuse to let them go anywhere when they had a say in things. Looking back, it was like a switch had been flipped. The bots never let him or the others wander far. They were always observed and always requested that they stay at base longer whenever it was feasible. It almost seemed desperate now that Jack thought about it. The way Arcee seemed reluctant to let him go when she drove him home. The look Bulkhead shared with Bumblebee when Miko and Rafael were similarly ordered to be brought back to their families. The strange expression of terror on Smokescreen’s face whenever Jack and his friends left for the evening…

Whatever was going on was finally about to reach its peak. Jack could feel it.

“I apologize, Mrs. Darby. We need the children. We cannot allow them to leave unless they are traveling with us.” Optimus’s voice was surprisingly quiet as he finally spoke up. Almost too quiet. A faint rattle in his words left Jack nervous more than anything else. How often had he ever seen Optimus upset? Once maybe? Even then, it was moreso a look of surprise. 

“What in heaven’s name could you possibly need my son and two innocent kids for? Bait?” His Mom’s retort was venomous, so much so that Raf stepped close to Jack on instinct. He didn’t think too hard about holding the younger boy’s hand and pulling Miko slightly behind him as Optimus’s eyes shrank down, the tiny pinpricks of glowing blue becoming smaller than ever before.

“We need the children. They are of us now. We cannot allow even one of our number to leave our sight, not like this, not right now.” Optimus twitched violently. His entire body seemed to lurch as he gripped the railing of the platform, putting Jack and the rest on the Prime’s level. The metal creaked, groaning under his strength as Optimus’s head tilted ever so slowly, his antennae drawn back in an almost aggressive manner.

Jack fought back the urge to run as he watched the rest of the bots crowd around, each of them staring quietly and in obvious agreement with their leader’s words. What was going on?

“Optimus, what’s going on?” Miko finally spoke up, her voice shaking with a hint of a whine as she looked between the Prime, Jack’s Mom, and the rest of the bots. He almost wanted to smack her for speaking up and possibly drawing more attention to them, but he couldn’t find the strength to do anything other than pull Miko closer to himself proactively. Whatever was going on here was beyond them.

“Miko, Jack, Rafael… I am sorry you were the ones wrapped up into this… but I will not risk my people dying. I refuse to condemn one of my own to the fate that awaits us if we are left alone.” Optimus twitched again, this time so violently that a crack echoed in the base. Jack winced but didn’t dare to move as Ratchet pulled Optimus back, his eyes never once leaving Jack and his friends.

“June, give them to us now. We aren’t asking, this is a demand.” Jack’s heart beat faster in his chest as Ratchet took Optimus’s place, holding out a hand and glaring at all of them like they’d personally offended him. Jack paused, too afraid to move, until Rafael tugged on his arm, gesturing toward Ratchet’s waiting hand. Miko seemed hesitant, but she was the first to obey and hurry over to the team medic. Jack didn’t have enough courage to tell her not to.

“Jack, Miko, Raf, don’t you three dare.” His Mom’s eyes were wide and filled with fear. Jack wanted to run, he wanted to scream. But what was he supposed to do? The bots were all so much stronger than them, and from the looks of it, they were willing to do just about anything to get their way.

“Mom, calm down. The bots have always brought us back from dangerous situations safely. This is pretty much the same, right?” Jack tried to soothe his Mom, but he felt a deep dread settle in his stomach as he finally got onto Ratchet’s hand, soon sitting with Raf and Miko pressed up against his sides as the tower giant that called himself a medic began to step toward the rest of the bots. 

Jack was only given a moment to see his Mom’s terrified face before Ratchet’s fingers curled enough that he couldn’t see. He wasn’t sure he wanted to.

“Jack, do you think we are going to be alright? The bots… aren’t going to hurt us, are they?” Rafael clung to Jack’s side like a little kid, which he arguably was. Jack wrapped an arm around him in what he hoped was a comforting manner as he felt Ratchet begin to walk. 

“They haven’t hurt us before. I don’t think they are going to start now. Besides, this whole thing seems off. They seem to just want us around like some sort of good luck charm.” He attempted to comfort the younger boy, but Raf didn’t seem all that at ease. Jack couldn’t blame him, especially when Miko was sitting quietly for once, her eyes glued on the light of the groundbridge.

“They will be returned safely once talks with Megatron have concluded.” Optimus reassured Jack’s Mom again, but it did little to ease her. Jack could still hear her crying out as the team stepped through the groundbridge, Ratchet still holding all three of them protectively.

The moment they arrived on the other side, Ratchet’s fingers parted just enough that Jack could see through the gaps.

“Prime! You’ve finally arrived.” Megatron stood on top of the nearest rock formation, a legion of Vehicons all around and on the ground beneath him. Soundwave and Starscream stood at his sides, both watching with grim expressions. What happened to all the vicious eagerness Jack had witnessed time and time again when he’d gotten wrapped up in the bots war?

“Megatron, I appreciate your cooperation.” Optimus stepped forward, speaking for the entire group. Oddly enough, the entire team of Autobots huddled close together, each of them looking a second away from surging into action or having a panic attack. Smokescreen and Bumblebee seemed especially stressed, both hovering near one of the bigger bots for support. Ultra Magnus became a bit of a beacon as Optimus left the group. Arcee, Bulkhead, Bee, Smokescreen, and even Wheeljack all crowded around the Commander.

Ratchet remained about a foot or two away from the Autobot huddle pile, for which Jack was grateful since it gave him a good view of whatever was going on.

“Doc, what’s happening?” Miko called up to Ratchet, looking far more terrified than Jack had ever seen her. Miko was always one for battle and excitement, but the strange, unsettling aura of trepidation was evidently getting to her. Rafael wasn’t much better as he clung to Jack’s side, not even adjusting his glasses as they slipped down his nose.

Ratchet did not see fit to answer Miko’s question.

“Have you come to surrender at last?” Megatron cackled, his evil grin on full display. Jack personally wanted to cringe at the sheer ego expressed in Warlord’s tone, but he was more worried about how the bots were reacting. There was no anger, not even a hint of combat readiness. They just… huddled.

“No. But I come to bargain for peace.” Optimus raised his hands, not in surrender, but something more… friendly? Jack didn’t really have another way to describe it as the Prime kept his back to the team, watching Megatron like a hawk.

“There is no bargaining to be done here, Prime. I will accept nothing less than complete and total surrender.” Megatron raised his blaster, his grin unwavering. Again, Jack wanted to cringe or scowl, maybe both. But looking at Starscream and Soundwave had him even more concerned. They seemed nervous, and looking at the Vehicons, they also huddled together in a very similar fashion to the team.

This was wrong. Something about all of this was wrong. 

“Megatronus, enough. You and I both know that we are out of time. There are too few of us left. We cannot continue as we are. Sooner or later, one of us will succumb.” Succumb? Jack felt a hint of fear begin to seep into his body as he looked up at Ratchet, then at his friends, and then back to Optimus. All of them were afraid, at least to his eyes. Ratchet’s expression was sharp, his eyes wide and glowing in a way he’d never seen before. Optimus was unnaturally twitchy, scratching at his armor periodically as he spoke. Rafael and Miko were unusually silent, seemingly copying the team as they huddled against Jack’s side.

He didn’t stop them, instead holding them close as things continued to play out.

“You underestimate the fortitude of the Decepticons. We do not need your Autobots to ensure our survival.” Megatron hissed, anger blazing in his eyes. Those around him flinched, even Soundwave. Survival. This was about survival. That meant that something serious was on the line that Jack did not yet know about.

Why would the Autobots want to ally with the Decepticons for the sake of survival? They’d only ever done that when Unicron woke up. And even then, that was just Megatron, not the entire faction.

“You lost most of your Vehicons to the virus that plagued your ship, and many more fell during the battle at Darkmount. You know as well as I do that your numbers are dangerously low.” Optimus’s voice continued to rattle, his fingers digging into his shoulders as he clawed at his armor. The team made worried noises, but they didn’t dare move. Ratchet’s eyes widened even further as Jack momentarily looked up at him.

Numbers. Was this about the survival of the species? Last time he’d checked, Optimus had said Cybertronians were on the verge of extinction. But again, why ally with the Decepticons? Had Optimus finally cracked? But if that was the case, why did the Decepticons, minus Megatron, look so eager to accept the offer. The Vehicons kept edging closer, their weapons lowered as they fidgeted in fear.

“They’re scared. The bots and the cons are scared of something.” Rafael’s voice was barely above a whisper, disbelief in his tone. He hugged Jack’s arm tighter, prompting Miko to do the same. They were way out of their territory here.

“Not low enough to bring us to our knees. We will never bow before a Prime.” Megtron’s retort came spitefully. His words turned into a strange mess of sounds Jack couldn’t pick out as he ranted for a while longer. Jack assumed he must have been talking in Cybertronian, but it certainly still seemed to make Optimus more and more agitated.

“You are a fool! We are out of time, Megatronus! None of us are safe! Not you, not me, and not any of those under our command!” Something seemed to snap in Optimus as he threw his arms up, gesturing to everyone and everything with such energy that Jack had to blink a few times to see if he was seeing things right. Miko and Rafael physically recoiled as they watched Optimus start to claw at his armor again, creating deep indents as he grunted, bordering on a growl.

“Would you like to see Soundwave succumb? Do you really want to potentially lose your last loyal ally? What about the rest of your troops? Do you want to watch them suffer as base coding takes over?” Again, Optimus spoke, his voice shaking in a way that was previously unimaginable. His movements were almost desperate as he continued tugging on and scratching his plating, almost like he had an insatiable itch. Jack couldn’t see much from where he was, but Optimus turned ever so slightly, letting him get a glimpse of the wild and crazed look in his eyes before he refocused.

The bots shifted all around him, huddling even closer and even going so far as to hold onto one another. Even Ratchet shuffled closer to the team, cradling Jack and his friends but not once tearing his gaze away from the scene.

“Your ridiculous chattering aggravates me. I need none of your Autobots to keep my troops secure. But you need us.” Megatron's tone was mocking, almost like he’d won some great battle. Optimus responded in short order, even more frantic than the first time, but in a quieter way.

“We need each other. This war has gone on too long, and if it continues as it has, we are going to fall.” Jack found himself more and more afraid just listening to the sheer amount of defeat in the Prime’s tone. He looked… scared. Well and truly scared as he started to hunch over a bit. 

“Then so be it! I will never succumb! I am Megatron of Kaon!” The leader of the Decepticons cackled, likely preparing to go on into another rant. But he was cut off by a choked sound from Optimus, one that left Jack fighting back the urge to close his eyes.

“You cannot-” Optimus lurched, his limbs twitching erratically as he continued to make an unsettling gagging sound. His antennae moved in unsteady motions, his armor rattled, and his fans blew open as he clutched his abdomen.

“Prime? Are you alright?” Bulkhead hesitantly called out, prompting Optimus to turn around for a brief moment. Miko looked like she wanted to say something, but she shut up the moment the Prime faced them. His optics were wider than wheels, and his jaw hung open in what looked to be a silent, horrifying realization. 

“Sir, step back. A retreat may be in order-” Ultra Magnus also tried to offer a comment, but Optimus just twitched again, his erratic movements turning into fullbody shaking as his voice became pure static for a long agonizing moment. He clawed at his arms, tearing off pieces of armor in terrified, desperate motions, almost like he was too hot.

“N-no…. This… this cannot be my end.” Optimus’s words were choppy and frantic, so much so that Megatron’s smile was wiped from his face. Jack felt his own expression fall as he pulled Miko and Rafael back, his hand coming to rest on their heads as he felt the instinctual need to prepare to cover their eyes.

This was bad. This was very, very bad.

“Everyone! Get back!” Ratchet all but shoved Jack and his friends into Arcee’s waiting hands. They all yelped, clutching Arcee’s fingers as Ratchet stood in front of the team, urging them back. Between the gaps in Arcee’s fingers, Jack saw a sight that would horrify him until the end of his days.

Optimus was still standing, but he was contorted in such a way that Jack wanted to feel sick. He was bent over, almost like he was trying to perform a gymnastics maneuver only to be stuck halfway. Metal-looking structures jutted out of his spine, possibly his version of ribs. They shone with a sticky substance that hung in strands, still connecting them to the Prime’s body. His expression was pulled taut in what Jack could only assume was pain as Megatron all but screeched for his soldiers to step back.

“Get away from him!” The Vehicons didn’t need to be told twice before booking it back to Megatron’s side. Jack took the chance to cover Rafael and Miko’s eyes as Optimus, usually so composed, fell to crying out in agony.

“H-Help me! I-it hurts-!” Optimus clawed at his armor, wailing as he grasped his head, pulling on his antennae and scratching at his face and neck like it would help him escape whatever was happening. He looked almost feverish as his armor flared and his fans roared.

“M-my spark! Hurts-!” Optimus’s words faded into a scream as he frantically tore off his own armor in a spray of energon. Anywhere he could reach, he dug his fingers under plating and ripped them off. It looked agonizing, almost like he was skinning himself to try and release some deep pain Jack couldn’t even comprehend. Wires were exposed, bright and scarred gray skin like surfaces bleeding as the Prime continued to tear at himself. Miko and Rafael shook against his sides, reminding Jack to keep his hands over their eyes even as he watched on, unable to look away.

“What’s happening!?” Miko whimpered into Jack’s shirt, but he didn’t answer her. Instead, he held her tighter, fighting back the urge building in his gut to vomit.

“PRIMUS HAVE MERCY! MERCY UPON ME!” Optimus screamed like a dying man, twisting like he didn’t know where he was. He flailed before falling to his knees, energon leaking from his mouth, his audials, his eyes, and his vents. He choked and gagged, trying to scream as his spine tore itself out of him, extending and spreading as small rib-like protrusions rose like wings, making room for strange bulbous masses to form all over Optimus’s back.

All over his body, the things Jack assumed were bones ripped themselves out of Optimus’s body in jagged, terrifying snaps. Any remaining armor started to melt, especially around his arms and legs, as more masses developed there. The masses were gray but had a strange hue-shifting look to them that made them glimmer like the world’s most messed-up rainbow, all accompanied by the agonized wail of the ever-stoic leader of the Autobots.

The whole scene looked like it crawled straight from hell, especially as gray looking sludge started to form around him as his armor continued to melt right off and pieces of what looked to be his version of skin began to warp.

“I knew one of us was going to bud!” Smokescream shrieked, covering his face with a sob as he stepped back, only stopped by Arcee who barked at him loud enough for Jack to wince as her voice rang in his ears.

“Shut up!” Jack only tore his eyes away from Optimus’s torture long enough to watch the team start to panic. Wheeljack and Bulkhead clung to each other like the Rapture was on the horizon. Bumblebee had fallen to the ground, watching in shocked horror as Optimus continued to wail. Smokescreen was only held up by Ratchet, who clutched his arm so tightly there had to be dents.

Only Ultra Magnus remained firm, but even that looked like a fragile façade.

“There’s nothing we can do now. Remain clear of the containment area.” Magnus stood firmly, placing a hand over his chest in what looked to be a salute of sorts as the horrific scene continued to unfold. 

Megatron and his Decepticons just watched. They didn’t even try to fire as they watched Optimus cry out in agony, the masses all over him growing like tumors combined with the world’s worst allergic reaction. His face split like dried and cracked earth, letting energon pour from the wounds. The same happened all over his frame, internals falling onto the floor as his very body melted from the inside out. The grows just kept getting bigger, cracking and shattering whatever remained of Optimus’s skeleton. 

Jack had to swallow the bile building in his throat as Optimus’s limbs snapped, bending backwards and at odd angles the shouldn’t have been possible. His jetpack had long since been torn to shreds, clinging to the mass on his back like some sort of thorn. The Prime had another growth on his chest that left him breathing frantically as he choked on what Jack could only assume were his own fluids. Two more hung off his arms, each creeping along him like mold. Two others infested his legs, popping off Optimus’s tires and consuming whatever mass was there.

He never stopped screaming.

“By the Unmaker…” Megatron’s curse was just loud enough to hear over the cacophony of sobs mixed with howls of torment coming from the Prime. Jack hardly registered his friends shaking against him, crying softly as they listened. He was glad they couldn’t see. Good lord, he was so glad.

Optimus desperately tried to move with his shattered body, the Matrix shining through a gap in his chest where the growth had not yet infested. The thing shocked him relentlessly as he pulled himself along, trying to get to help. His eyes exploded like light bulbs, leaving him blind and in even more agony as his very jaw began to melt right off, unhinging as if someone had knocked the screws holding it in place clean off. His fingers swelled like grotesque sausages, the armor on them distending until they snapped and the fingers turned into nothing more than good and bits of wire.

The Prime kept crying, trying to reach but ultimately being forced onto his stomach as he weakly pleaded for aid.

“Help… me… please… brother…” Optimus lifted an arm, one almost entirely overtaken by the growth. He reached in Megatron’s direction, but the warlord merely shook his head in horror and disbelief. Not a soul moved, and even Smokescreen’s sobs when quiet as Optimus whimpered one final time before his throat caved in.

Jack wasn’t sure if he was dead or not, but he certainly hoped so, if only for Optimus’s sake, as his body continued to twist and be devoured by whatever was on him. The growths consumed almost everything, bulking and breaking off of Optimus’s mutilated husk once they’d eaten almost all of him. Jack couldn’t bear to look at the corpse as the growths started to squirm, warping and changing.

Forming limbs.

“Is… is Optimus dead?” Raf’s voice was soft, almost a sniffle. Jack didn’t dare move his hands away from his friend’s eyes, decidedly not acknowledging the way his hands shook or how sick he felt.

“I don’t know Raf.” Jack’s words were surprisingly calm, but he chalked that up to shock as each of the masses continued to shift and change, forming into... their own entities. One by one they came online, their eyes lighting up a brilliant blue as they stood on unsteady legs. There were six, five of which appeared to be of similar design. Only the largest stood out, its armor sharp and its body built with a degree of elegance in mind.

All six of the new entities assessed themselves, looking over their bodies. The five smaller entities all had wings, but more startlingly, they all had Optimus’s eyes, albeit with slightly different takes on the design. It was almost like they were related somehow.

Jack wasn’t given time to think much about it as the biggest of the six quietly moved to Optimus’s body, or at least what remained of it. The five followed, the whole group staring at the Prime’s body for a long moment before the biggest reached down, and pulled out the Matrix. The relic was covered in energon, and yet it still somehow looked innocent as the largest one held the relic up, presenting it to Autobot and Decepticon alike.

“Hot Rod of Optimus Prime.” The biggest one, Hot Rod, announced themselves with a stoic expression that rivaled the fallen Prime. The rest of the five soon joined in the chorus.

“Silverbolt.” One of the five presented themselves with a proud salute, their frame blocky and obviously still developing.

“Air Raid.” Another followed in their lead, copying the first.

“Fireflight.” Again, another of the five spoke out, and each voice that rang out seemed to make the bots and cons shrink in on themselves.

“Skydive.” 

“Slingshot.”

The last two exclaimed their names with both glee and a degree of solemn understanding. Jack finally released his hands from where they’d covered Miko and Raf’s faces, letting them see these new bots. They gasped, and Miko began to cry the moment she saw Optimus’s corpse. Jack didn’t try to comfort her. It was useless.

The six stood there, as if waiting for orders. They were without color, and their armor was still shifting like goo. However, they all looked up to Megatron; their actions synchronized as they spoke in unison, leaving Jack’s skin crawling.

“We are of Optimus Prime, and we desire peace.” They all spoke, but Megatron wasn’t having any of it. He shook his head, terror etched onto his features as he threw himself into the sky.

“Decepticons! Retreat to the Nemesis!” Without hesitation, all the Decepticons flew back toward the warship looming overhead, not even trying to take advantage of the situation.

The six, for their part, turned to stare at the team, Jack and his friends included. He could feel their eyes raking over him, assessing him like he was some interesting subject in a lab. He hated it. He wanted to be sick, to sob, and then to never emerge from his room again.

“We will continue our originator’s work in his stead. We will not allow his death to be in vain.” Silverbolt, or at least the one Jack assumed was Silverbolt, collected the battered remains of Optimus’s corpse. The broken thing was little more than a few pieces of melted metal smelted together into an unflattering slab. The only reason it could even be tied to Optimus at all was because of the cracked remnants of a face that stuck to it.

Jack wasn’t sure he would be able to hold back the bile any longer as the six all smiled, the biggest one who still held the Matrix, stepping forward like they were always part of the team.

“Shall we return to base?”

[court-jobi]

Flip of a Switch

((banner by me! I don't own Horikoshi's work or this splendid art))

Pairing: Hawks x reader (fem!reader)

Words: 3.4k

Rating: M, 18+ (put down the spicy chicken bucket, baby birds)

Warnings: NSFW, oral (m receiving), fingering, praise, slight!overstim, est. relationship, sweet dirty talk, marking, Hawks / Reader are SWITCHES, porn w feelings, where we're going we don't need plot

Summary:

Any chance he gets, Hawks is going to be bounding into your apartment, ripping off his shirt and ready to spoil and be spoiled by your loving hands when he has a free afternoon or a rare night off the patrol circuit. His 'issued residence' is hardly a zen getaway for him, but your home is. Pleasing and pleasuring your beloved Pro Hero is the least of your worries. It's playing with yourself that's the hard part, so opening up your bedroom to your Keigo to let him try his hand at it is still a touch-and-go battle. But it's your playtime, too, and he's set on making you feel as sexy as you look.

A/N: It's smut hours, yall, and pretty bird is up next. Thank you all for the comments and love, hope you like this one!

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on Ao3

"Stop," Hawks breathes out fast, "Stopstopstop…"

With a rough hand, your personal Pro Hero forces you to listen: he smooths over your hair to get your attention along his hip, and cupped your chin with a lift to keep it up and away from temptation.

Looking up all too innocently, your small voice cracks from… lack of use.

"Wass'matter?" 

You swallow some residual ‘excitement’ from the corner of your mouth with a flirty tongue. Hawks's pupils are blown.

"Bad idea. Fuck... You're too good at that." He smirked, reining himself in.

"Mmm, thank you~" you laid down along his abs, mindful of the pulsing just below you, in between your breasts. Rocking back and forth under the excuse of 'getting comfortable' only got a rise out of Hawks more– your beloved companion inhales a cleansing breath to steady himself.

"And here I thought you had those pesky confidence issues, lovedove…"

"I did, a little." You pressed a little kiss and a twiddle of fingers along his sides, "But m'better now, thanks to you-"

Those fingers press and press towards his back, and the thought just crosses your mind…

Hawks clutches a wrist almost instantly- frowning hard to hide his near outburst.

Eyes flickering between Hawks’s face and his squeezing hand, you narrowed your set stare.

"... Are you ticklish?"

"No."

"You're lying."

"My wings aren't ticklish. Common misconcep’shn."

"Oh." you hushed. "So you won't make a fuss I do this..."

"Okay now, don't you gooo-ooh-woah, HEY!!"

Hawks rose up with laughter as you gave him a mighty ‘ole raspberry on his taut stomach. 

Happy Keigo is your favorite Keigo.

The bark of his involuntary giggles echo for a passing beat in your perfect, cozy room, cascading into low chuckles as you sought out his sides -close to where his winglets are pinned down– to tickle him further. 

The cuteness aggression on both your parts died down as he continued to cry uncle, so you eased up with the sweetest realization: this was probably the first time you recalled having so much pleasure and fun in bed. What a combination…

"You absolute brat!" Hawks rasps incredulously and pins you back towards the foot of the bed. This puts you squarely out of the covers to force your little squirming self against the cold- bringing out your subsequent pout. No amount of bargaining will help you now, "Oh no~ you don't get to hide. You asked for this."

And he copies your razz, causing you to burst out in high, carousing squeals- after which you immediately slap a hand over your mouth. 

Surprised by yourself, you had to mute the sudden noise with a panicked look at the door.

Hawks hummed, disapproving. 

"Look who's being loud now. Whatever would the Hikamotos say?"

The game of teasing only brought out your competitive nature. Your dear old neighbors hold no weight over you, but you weren't about to spark their wrath at you for being too loud again. 

You winked and teased your lip, "What they don’t know won’t hurt them."

"That so?" Hawks' eyes sparkled in the low light. "Then I have your permission to make you scream another way…?"

That made you stiffen- in all good humor, but aware of the sinful look in Hawks' dilated sights, you knew this wasn't a bluff. It's a promise.

"Okay, wait, no-- they'd definitely suspect something then!"

"Since when do you care what the old coots across the hall think?" Hawks countered, a jealous twang slipping into his words.

"Since I’m the one who has to deal with them whenever you're gone. And PopPop asks me -often- about my love life, and what I think about those heroes I'm always hanging out with. Pretty hard act to play, when I have to be cool even though I'm thirsting after your ev-.. ev’ry move, while you're.. y’know..not here."

Your words were slowing off your tongue as Hawks' wandering hands skimmed over your skin- one heading up your body to cradle your head, the other snaking down and swatting back the bunched-up covers to give him space.

"Yeah? And what're you going to tell the poor geezer now, hm?"

You smiled suggestively, but the sensations thrumming through your bones now send you reeling- knowing what was coming next, and already feeling the nerves push back up your gut.

Hawks' gaze flickered down as a hint. A whisper on his lips instructs you to 'open your legs a bit', very easy going. 

Letting your thighs go lax, you busy your hands by tugging his upper body down close so you could reach his hair- something, anything to hold onto, to touch him gently enough so he'd show you mercy.

He says it's his favorite way to unwind, being at home with you. Fierce Wings shed all over your room in batches, stripped down in next to nothing himself, unencumbered by teeming fans and villains alike– your boyfriend lights up at the idea when you offer your own cleared schedule to spend it with him. 

Within minutes of texting a particularly alluring selfie his way, Hawks is bounding into your apartment, ripping off his shirt and ready to spoil and be spoiled by your loving hands anytime he gets a free afternoon or a rare night off the patrol circuit. His apartment -while calm and aesthetically pleasing in its simpleness- is an ‘issued residence’, and reminds him of his commitments to work and thus far from his ideal zen getaway.

But making him feel good is the least of your reservations. It didn't take you longer than an episode of a kid’s cartoon to make him lose his mind and start begging to cum. 

It's playing with yourself that's the hard part, so opening up your bedroom to Hawks to let him try his hand at it was still a touch-and-go battle. 

You knew full well you were in the best care with him, knew it in your head and heart– but the flare of insecurity would not leave you alone when you're with him like this. Your entire waistline will tremble on its own, your spine will go stock still, and your legs are unable to really go weightless unless he’s telling you step by step to do so. 

But he makes it really convincing, bat of his eyes and all. He's never once rushed you or made a jab about how long you take to unwind. This is your playtime, too; where he can see past your flirty shell that's obviously attracted to him, but needs a little encouragement to turn sensual. He'd offer you the moon if he could- whatever would make you feel as sexy as you look.

Seems that simply watching you does it enough for him, at least… hence why he had to forcibly remove you from his lap to avoid releasing too soon. 

"So?” Hawks croons down to you, “You were going tell him..~?"

"That I-- uh..." you raked along his skull to feel grounded.

Gone are the featherlight and soft touches. Hawks is on a massaging mission. Memorizing  you by way of warmed skin and the stuttering breaths of almost kisses.

"You–?”

You squirm, brow furrowed.

“I– I can get the- uhm-”

“No…” the twist of your body is halted by his palm on your hip. Shaking his head at your suggestion of a toy to speed things along, he presses a chaste kiss to your nose, “no rushin’. Gonna try this the old-fashioned way.”

You flare with heat up your neck.

“Old-fashioned way?”

“Mhm~ Lovin’ touchin’ squeezin’, mama.”

He's honestly getting a bit creative in a way you haven't felt before. Rather than dip into where he knows you’ll be wet and stuff you full, he's mapping the entire area with expert touch, until he happens upon the nub of you that takes his full, thorough attention. 

Once he's got it, Hawks' rubbing grew distracting, very quickly. 

It's a good spot– the spot.

It's just little circles, why does this feel like it's numbing me straight to my brain…

Dammit, those teasing looks. You moaned, shutting your eyes to focus down. 

Your brain traipsed nearer and nearer to a fuzzy state, as was each word pushed out with lidded eyes: cast to him for an answer. 

"I-- mmmm.. What the hell you doing, and why'sitfeelsogood?..." 

Hawks drank them in and studied you with a proud but soft expression, watching you slip closer and closer to what he wanted. With bated breath, he nosed close to your ear,

"Gonna make you cum, sweet thing." Hawks cooed ever so lovingly. "Gonna go nice and slow~ just relax for me, deal?"

“B-but you haven't even-”

“I know~” kisses start getting littered on your neck, “I know, but I'm easy, babe. Wanna get you warmed up a bit, too. Only fair to my lady with that pretty, pretty mouth of hers, y'know? I hafta make things even~”

A broken hum in the affirmative, you give in and sink towards his neck and let him touch. 

“I– it's… it's not as easy for me, though… might take a while, n’ you shouldn’t hafta wait so long.. I don’t- know if I can…”

You’re never short on reactive noises, but your shyness overtook when the warm fluttering waves dominated your focus. It was too much and not enough; and between Hawks’ ministrations and his words, you had a hard time pinning your thoughts down on anything at all. 

“We don't have a timeline, sweet’eart,” your loving boyfriend nuzzles you, “s’just you and me here. Lemme love on you a little, hm?”

That voice of his- low and rolling, like he uses to talk to his higher ups in order to get away with his charming bullshit- was doing something powerful to you now.

"You sound amazing like this. All let loose and open for me?” Hawks lays on the praise thick, “Oh, I could listen to you all day and night. Just might do that.. mmm, feels good to touch you like this, too."

Fuck, Keigo. 

"Wanted to, for the longest time.. wanted to feel how much you missed me, if you miss me as much as I miss you... I want to listen to you breathe, like we did before. Hear you sing your own little birdie-songs, and just let everything else fade away.. wanna feel you around me and just let that heat take over -fuck, you're so wet, aren't you…”

Fuck, Keigo… 

“Wanted… to lay you back down on that sofa in my office that first day you said you'd come n’ meet me for lunch. Almost kept you all’to myself. Even after fighting every fuckin’ thing in sight between here to Tokyo, filthy as sin- I wanted you, even then..."

He’s kissing down your torso now, speaking this lovesick poetry straight to your core. 

To his retreating warmth, you grasped along his arm for his hand until you connected.

"Didn't fucking matter though, did it sweet’eart? You had my whole heart in a chokehold, I know that now– but God was I such a damned idiot for waitin’ so long. All I wanted was to tell you how much I loved you... N’tell you everything I do, and how I do it. All the stories you want– they're yours. Knowing I have you to come back to... To come home to..."

Next to bursting, your breaths came sharp and painfully arousing.

 "Keigo~~"

Ever the enticing hero, Hawks slunk down on his belly -ear to your abdomen- speaking right to you. Granting you the sweetest words he can muster in the gentlest voice- you feel closer than ever to the man claiming he's always been yours. 

"M’never letting 'nother day go by…” Hawks praised you with needy fingers still dancing around your folds, “Gonna swear to you, every single chance I get: how much I want you... adore you.. how much I fucking love you."

"Fuck, Keigo~~!" 

Your back tipped off the bed and suddenly, you felt attacked by the strangest surge of need that you gripped his wrist still; willing it to.. not stop- pull away? Or pull nearer?

He peeks up to you again with a devilish smirk. Popping up with a passionate lift of his wing’s assist, Hawks grumbles teases against your neck, 

"Bout to fly off into the clouds, are we?"

You whined beautifully; or at least, you think he'd say so. Through your head swims, swirling in all of his confessions of one-sided pining, you tried to beg for the unknown: 

Things feel tight, and achey.

"Wai-- Kei, I can’t-"

"Yes, you can," Hawks pressed into your neck and sped up his hand, "Yes you can, sweet thing. Let go, you're so close."

Breath was hard to come by. Little nosies grew high and light in your moans, and you're clutching at Hawks to come back up to you, seeking his protection and his warmth- higher and higher as your impending, ultimate high dangled mysteriously in front of you.

But no, he's back onto his belly with nothing but kisses to your midsection and some open mouthed nibbles at your skin on his way. 

Honestly, you had no real clue how this could happen with what he was doing, how he moved so expertly and pinpointed this edge of pleasure and agony for you with amazing precision- all by some fanciful words. 

This was different from any encounter you've had before. You think you know why, too, since it was apart of your draw to him in the first place- 

You are stuck on his voice. His mind. His inner man under all the showmanship. It all comes out through a honey-sweet tone that means every secret he spills is true. And he knows that'll strike to the core of you; you're a wordsmith, after all. He turns poetic, because he knows that will resonate with your artistic heart. 

It's working, because you’re  pulsing everywhere  and  need him so badly-

"Shit, Keigohoney, please!!" you begged- near tears- cupping his strong neck and looking for his assurance and safety.

–only said object of your affections is too into this, and aims to please and tease your way through to finishing. 

“What's that, baby? Whaddyou need?”

“I-I wan’ you, ughhh…” 

Those needs melted into moans the more you feel him pet and stroke. 

Your darling boy simply smiles and kisses you tender and quick against those trembling lips.

"I got you," Hawks rasped, his tone becoming urgent and coaxing, excitement lighting his eyes and nodding along with you as you convinced yourself: 

…this was new, but going to be oh-so worth it, just like he said- how he promised- 

Hawks bobs his head while he picks up the speed of his fingers on your clit, 

"You're gonna come for me, yeah? Gonna come hard and fast and you're gonna love every second of it, c'mon-- I got you, I'm right here."

You begged in half-whimpers.

‘I'm right here,’ the bed seems to agree- currently being rutted against by Hawks’ more hybrid tendencies, with you in between: 

"You're gonna feel so good. You don't need to beg… there's nothing but all the time in the world, nothing but this room, this bed. Nothin’ but your Keigo. Just you and me here."

Your very heart rose to the surface, slurring your words,

“Love you-…”

"Mm. I hear how much you love me," his moan into your ear to ramp up your pleasure, and make you cry out, “N’ I love you, too, little dove.”

He's caressing you even faster, but equally as light. It's not a push, but a thrum of constant pressure.

 "My girl’s almost ready to cum, isn't she?"

"FUCK yes!" you moaned at the change of pace. You're a panting mess and embarrassed by it– but  he's so excited to see it.

Chancing a look at him, Hawks is a man starved. Just touching you alone, he's heaving big breaths.

"That feels good, huh?” Hawks growls- nearing feral, “Gonna be even better with my cock inside you."

 It's the key to unlock your next cry.

"GODS, fuck me now!!"

"Not. Yet.”

Hawks tips your chin up with a possessive hold on your neck. His palm -gloveless since this began- cradles you from underneath, bringing your gaze to his fire-lit eyes.

“You go first. Then I'll fuck right into you, just like you want. You cum first for me, yeah? You gonna cum?"

"Yes~" you begged, breathless and in a trance under him, "Yes yes, please, I'll co-- ahh, I'm- ah.."

Hawks with his controlled strength squeezed his hand ever so gently, craning your head up and up, grinding with your leg in perfect rhythm with his hand's curl.

"That's it-- there you go, c'mon. C'mon."

Hawks spat his passions again and again, delicious in its roughness.

Then, you finally sobbed until it silenced you–

You’re jumping up against the weight slotted to you -his weight- but immediately stilled by Hawks' hard kisses over the column of your throat: kisses adorned with canines that bite when you start to shake through your pleasure.

Ultimate relief gushed out of you while you twitched and crashed against him, riding out his  hand to your body's high.

As the shocks spilled over, you're gasping- eyes wide open. 

Then as quick as it came, your entire body gave up its ghost; limp and clutching close to your anchor while he started chuckling in complete rapture,

“Atta girl, atta girl!! You did it, baby, I knew you could!”

He's celebrating this win, over and over as if it's his own. It was a vain effort since your ears felt stuffed with cotton from the exertion you'd just been put through, and could barely make anything out with the headrush ebbing away. The only thing you could register was Hawks’ frame bracing himself up on an elbow above you– your source of shelter.

Veritable alpha energy coating you from top to bottom, you relish each passing second of settling down easy while receiving little assuring kisses along your hot skin. 

Well, at first, they were kisses. Then some longer ones. Then a few licks along your neck working to cool you: he was tasting your sweat.

"Ohhhh-ho that's my best girl! You were amazing to watch- fuck~~. That was the most gorgeous thing I ever did see, hmmm... Oh, poor thing, can you hear me? Shhh hey, you. Can you hear me alrigh’?"

His voice was turning playful, and when you finally open your eyes, the dizzying sensation had gone away finally. But while the intensity had dimmed, it only reignited your heat when you met your lover's adoring features. 

Brilliant half smile on display, Hawks brushes your hair back and presses some loving forehead kisses across you… eliciting light breathless chuckles in thanks to the touch.

Hawks centered back on your flushed cheeks and lax brows- free from all tension,

"Back down on the ground with me?"

"...Holy shit."

"Good shit?"

"Good shit~"

“Color?”

“Golden.” Better than green, when it’s him.

You giggled in relief, shuddering against the cold and turning to the side aghast at yourself. Only in the let down of your post-bliss did you realize how fast you'd turned into a full sap the moment his hands were on you. 

And after being in control of his pleasure for so long before… he flipped a switch and blew your mind. 

Hawks was an incredibly fast learner, though was there any surprise there? You cover your neck for a second and gave a glowing laugh again, "Wow, my throat is tired."

Your blond beauty atop you simply stroked still-damp fingers along the supple edge of your breast. The experimental touch could hardly be considered fondling due to the soulful look of reverence in how he handled them. He'd be sure to shower up with you later and clean it off. 

"You were enjoying yourself- I’d call that a good job~”

"I don' think I can make any sandwiches for you after that one," you limply waved your hand: "no bones right now."

“Haha! No offerings needed, lovedove. It's entirely my pleasure.”

He’s your absolute angel, you’re convinced now more than ever.

Hawks rumbled happily, "Tired girl, huh. You do look pretty wiped out." He twirls your side swept hair aside. “S’pose I won’t be making good on my promise to fill ya up this time, will I?”

The tease prominent on his mind (and now yours), you focus in: broke from the daze and blindly shift your leg up and over Hawks’ thigh- pulling him in flush to you and grinding up with a smirk, 

"Not that tired, pretty bird."

[fanaticsnail]

Hello Snail! Hope you’re doing well 🫶 I’ve been a fan of your writing for awhile, and had a little au idea pop into my head that I thought you would enjoy :)

Shapeshifter!Mihawk who wants to get closer to Reader, yet can see that they are intimidated by him. One day, while flying about the island to keep an eye on things, Mihawk is injured in bird form and crashes into a bush. Reader witnesses this and goes to rescue the “poor birdie,” not realizing this hawk is really Lord Dracule himself.

Shenanigans ensue, including:

- attempting to feed him seeds or worms

- miHawk bringing flowers to the windowsill or little trinkets and jewelry he “finds” (he’s sweating in the treasury to find something you would like)

- helping preen his feathers

- ranting to your new bird friend about the scary, attractive warlord who seems to just stare from a distance (Mihawk sees this as a green light to court you)

- “wow those eyes are SO familiar..”

- protective bird following you around/on your shoulder (he pecked someone who was flirting with you)

Keep taking care of yourself! And have a lovely rest of your day ✨

- bird brained anon 🪶

Oh my gosh, I need this. I need this so bad. I can see him being such a beautiful little raven or obviously a hawk. First thought: Diaval from Maleficent. But it's Mihawk, and he can switch at will.

Allow me the courtesy to write you an epilogue to your thoughts, I have been thinking about this for about 20 minutes and I needed to get it out. I'm not sure of the word count, it's just a little thing. Also, forgive the dodgy Photoshop. Raven was a stock photo edited on the Polish app on my phone and superimposed in front of Yoru from OPLA and I added some flowers to it.

Pretty Bird

Masterlist Here

Themes: fairytale creature au, avarial!Mihawk x reader, shapeshifter!Mihawk x reader. Part 2 here.

Little thought: If he's injured in his bird-like form, what if he can't switch back for a while? What if he's forced to remain nestled in the roofing of your country cottage until you manage to hear his hiss-like, pained squawks.

The bird is angry. He doesn't want to accept aid, but at the offer of a small piece of stewed meats, and drink by the warmth of your kitchen fire, who was he go resist such comfort? You name him: "pretty bird," and coo affectionately as you look over his feathers and insure there is no ache in his broken, hollowed bones.

Is he frightened? If he is, he surely cannot say. He is just a bird, after all. You bring him offerings of a wooden crate used to carry your homemade vintage of brandy-wine you produced from your country garden, and he accepts it immediately as his personal resting nook.

When your back is turned while you're washing up, you could've sworn you witnessed him dip his onyx beak into the goblet of brandy on your countertop. There was something in the way his golden eyes rolled in his head at the flavor that almost seemed human. You offer him a small thimbleful of the brandy, and he seems to bob his head and shake his tail in gratitude.

You hum to him, and he echoes the tune in a pleasant, deep warble back at you, coaxing a giggle from your throat. You offer him chin scratches as a reward for allowing you to check over his wounds, and his entire body leans into the gentle touch.

As his wounds seem to heal, you're almost remorseful at the prospect of never seeing this beautiful bird again. Such creatures are not meant for captivity, and you ensure to tell him as such as you unwind his bandage and remove his splint.

The last night you spend in the company of your pretty bird, you offer him an anecdote of your childhood: wandering the halls in the the high keep gallery on Kuraigana mountain when the former lord reigned. You longed to return, but you were not certain of the new lord's temperament.

You were unsure of what happened since the old man's natural passing, just as you were unsure of the Draculean man who now ruled thereafter. Was he kind and courteous as the ruler before him, or was he simply a man who now reigned where a kind man once homed: you were certainly too shy to ever approach him to ask.

All you could do is enjoy the splendor of your cottage, trading in handmade crafts with the former staff of high keep Kuraigana when the new lord retired them. They were elderly, and you were grateful of the Draculean man's kindness.

As you slipped into peaceful slumber by your open fire beside the crate, enjoying the warmth while laying on your sheepskin tapestry, the soft bob of talons was barely audible beside your slumbering body. Cloudy vapors of scentless, black smoke shrouded the bird's form and in its place was a creature native to the land, an angelic figure from the fables of old.

The winged man crouched beside you, cocking his head inquisitively to the side as he studied your features in his natural form. His amber eyes held curiosity and gratitude in its honey-like hue as he whispered gently beneath his breath a soft repetition of your name. Now that his tongue could claim your title, he was going to praise your kindness by rolling it over his palate at every moment he spent thinking of you.

"I will not forget your eagerness to aid me when my body was broken," he gently hovered his human like hands over your face, his taloned claws desiring to give you a gentle caress, but his thoughts of your comfort and consent to his touch pulls his urges from his mind. "I was just a bird to you, and you homed and treated me with not a semblance of payment in return."

The soft shudder of his onyx wings was silent, as if testing to see if they had healed before he slowly crept from your door and flew back to his castle in the dark of the night.

When you awoke, you heard a soft rap at your door and a slot of a letter beneath the iron frame of your letter slip. You first gazed to the brandy-wine crate, sighing off your soft sorrow at your pretty bird slipping away without saying goodbye.

Rising to your feet before stooping to collect the letter from the floor, you notice the wax seal was embroidered with the stamped letter "D" on its back. You cocked your head inquisitively to the side before using your blades letter opener to coax the waxy shell from the page. The letter was curt and brief, but the lettering was careful and almost loving.

"I would formally desire to extend an invitation to the premier reopening of the Kuraigana Gallery, by the bequest of Lord Dracule."

And who were you to refuse such an invitation from your new lord, regardless to how intimidating you found his reclusive nature? Donning your best formal garb, you make the lengthy trek towards the high keep with your nerves depicted by your heart jumping to your throat, and the swell of your tongue feeling heavy behind your teeth.

As you wander to the gray slate steps, you are blissfully ignorant of the amber gaze of your pretty bird watching over your every move with a soft curiosity in his eyes and a smile on his beak. He was so excited you accepted his invitation, and he was looking forward to showcasing his home and offering you sanctuary within his walls, just as you did to him when he was but a humble raven.

He was smitten, and he could hardly believe he had fallen prey to expressing adoration of a mortal being as yourself. One thing he was certain of was the fact he was to begin his romantic pursuit of you immediately, intensely and passionately. He could only hope you would not shy away from his winged form, and instead receive his affections with your heart and mind open to it.

[badbtssmut]

Taehyung and Jungkook are best friends and roommates, they often watch porn together and masturbate to relieve stress of studying at the university. One day, a reader catches them doing this and wants to join them. At first she just masturbates too and then they all have sex together

How do you tell your friends that you have seen them jerking off? It was a question that you asked yourself countless times but you just never knew how to bring it up to them.

But today, it was different. You stood at the door, hoping that they would see you, but they were too distracted. Jungkook had fully taken his pants off while Taehyung’s pants were pulled down to his knees, both of their hands stroking their hard cocks. You could see the pre-cum that they were smearing over their shafts, making the movements smoother.

You had been standing there, watching them, for what felt like hours, when in reality it was probably only about five minutes. You cleared your throat to get their attention, causing both of them to jump and scramble to put their cocks away.

Both of them were bright red, not just from their arousal, but with embarrassment as well.

“Y/N, sorry, shit, I didn’t see you there—“ Jungkook was quick to apologize, but you gave them a reassuring smile.

“Can I join you? If you want me to, I can leave and act like this never happened if that would make you more comfortable." You spoke softly, not wanting to seem intimidating.

"It's okay, Y/N, you can join us. Come sit with us." Taehyung motioned to the space between them, so you moved to sit down.

You were a bit too shy to get undressed just yet, so you instead slid your hand into your panties and started rubbing yourself, watching the porn the boys put on the TV.

The three of you mastrubated in a comfortable silence, but you soon couldn't help but to let out quiet moans and gasps as you rubbed circles around your clit, pushing your fingers inside of yourself every now and then.

The woman on the TV was currently on her hands and knees, getting fucked by two men. The men were rough, pounding into her and slapping her ass, while she was a mess of moans. Which turned you on.

Jungkook whispered against your ear, "Do you want to do that, Y/N? Want me and Tae to fuck you at the same time?"

"Mm, yes please," you whispered, feeling Taehyung's hand brush over yours. He pulled your hand out of your panties, before he pressed kisses against your knuckles.

"Lay down for us, pretty girl," You did as you were told, laying back against the back of the sofa. “Can I have a go first, y/n?” Taehyung asked, and you nodded eagerly.

You watched him strip out of his clothes, his erection standing proud. Taehyung then settled himself between your legs, kissing you softly as he did. You kissed him back, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He slowly pushed into you, letting out a groan. He stayed still for a moment, giving you time to adjust. Once he was sure that you were comfortable, he started moving.

He thrusts were slow and sensual, making love to you. In the meanwhile, Jungkook stood on the sofa and lined his cock up with your mouth. You opened your mouth, allowing him to slide his length into your mouth.

The two men fucked you into the couch, your body quivering as the pleasure built. You moaned around the cock in your mouth, which made it vibrate and caused him to moan in return.

Taehyung sped up, thrusting into you harder. His hips slapped against your thighs, the sound echoing in the room. The three of you moaned together, and didn’t say a word, simply enjoying how you felt.

Then, the two boys switched positions, you were laid down flat on the sofa as Jungkook got in between your legs, while taehyung was on top of you, making sure to not crush you under his weight.

You wrapped your legs around jungkook, pulling him closer to you, and you took taehyung into your mouth. The two boys entered you at the same time, making you let out a loud whimper, your body shuddering at the sensation. Taehyung started to move his hips faster, leaning his hands on the armrest as he started to facefuck you, causing you to gag slightly.

“Mm! Mm!” You muffled moans sounded as you felt Jungkook pounding into you, his hands resting on your hips.

Fuck, it felt so good being used like this.

You started to drool around Taehyung’s cock, the saliva dripping down your chin, as he kept hitting the back of your throat. The pleasure built up in your lower stomach, and soon you were seeing white, letting out a cry as you tightened around Jungkook.

Then for the last time, the boys switched positions, and you were now on Taehyung’s lap, your back against his chest. He held you by the waist as he bounced you up and down on his cock while he fucked up into you.

Your mouth hung open as the overstimulation coursed through your veins, but you loved it. You didn’t even have to do anything, Taehyung was in full control of your body as he slammed it down on his hard cock for you.

“Yes, yes, there, right there!” Your head fell back, leaning against his shoulder as his cock hit the sweet spot deep inside of you, and you saw stars. You could feel him twitch and throb inside of you, his orgasm approaching as he continued to hit your g-spot.

He grunted against your ear, his fingers digging into your skin.

Then he came, shooting his cum inside of you. He gave a few final thrusts before he finally pulled out, and the two of you panted heavily.

After a short break, you were on Jungkook’s lap, and he was the one fucking you. You bounced on his cock, meeting his thrusts.

Your eyes fluttered shut, a blissful smile on your face, their cocks were stretching you out, filling you up so well.

“You ride cock so well, such good pussy, taking us so well, Y/N-ah, such a good girl," Jungook groaned, wrapping his arms around you firmly, before he started to kiss you.

You let out a soft mewl as the pleasure overtook your body, making your legs tremble. You held onto his shoulders, moaning into his mouth.

His hands then moved to your breasts, kneading into them roughly. The feeling made your toes curl, and you clenched around him.

It was getting too much for you, your body was so sensitive from having two cocks inside of you today, it was intense. You didn't want him to stop though.

You rolled your hips, your body waving back and forth as you rode him. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, panting heavily.

You ran your fingers through his hair, fucking yourself on his cock, chasing after the climax that was fast approaching.

Then you were sent over the edge, your body tensing as you let out a loud whine, holding onto him tightly as the orgasm hit you. Your eyes were clenched shut as the pleasure washed over you.

He followed shortly after, spilling his seed inside of you, and the two of you were a sweaty, panting mess. You sat there for a few more seconds before you slid off him and sat back on the couch, exhausted.

The boys and you cuddled on the sofa, sharing sweet kisses amongst them, coming down from your high.

[mini-mews]

animal crossing and alien noises <3

request: hi! i hope ur doing well, i love ur acc and i wanted to ask if you can do some shota x reader fluff,,, maybe he sneaks into ur room to cuddle and talk :)) 💗

p1harmony shota haku (soul) x gn!reader

wc: 705

summary: Shota comes home late to find you comfy and he can't resist melting into the warm bed with you, a bubble of love blocking off the outside world.

a/n: hii anon!! thank you so much for this request, it was super soft annd i really enjoyed writing it, so i hope you enjoy it lots <3

Shifting around in bed as you bury yourself into the blankets, the switch sitting in your hand lights up. Soft music chimes out as your island comes into view, Animal Crossing displayed. It was just past 11pm, only a few minutes after Soul had sent you a text. 

‘Are you still awake? 〵(•́ ꞈ •̀)〴’

‘Yeah m’ just in bed now, do you have yer key? ♡’ 

‘Yesss!! cya 15 mins ʚ(*´꒳`*)ɞ’

Knowing he probably freshened up at the company you got comfortable checking through your island to pass time. Quiet chimes of the music fills the space as the side lamp gives a warm glow to the room and before you knew it, the telltale sound of keys jingling could be heard.

Footsteps down the hall as your eyes follow a dark spot in the water, trying to get close enough to trigger a fishing event without scaring it off. The sound of footsteps and water splashing rise and suddenly stop as the screen reads out ‘I caught a sea bass- no, wait! This is at least a C+’ making you scrunch your nose. 

As you glare down at the sea bass with terrible puns, Shota stands leaned against the doorframe admiring you. The cute face you're making at the screen, how comfy you look curled up in bed, the light illuminates you so perfectly, gently kissing your skin Shota bites back a wide smile. When you finally look up, locking eyes with him as he moves towards you.

“Hi baby, welcome home.” You whispered out as he settled into bed, allowing himself to get tangled within the blankets and you, throwing an arm over your belly to pull you flush against him. “How was practice? Are the boys doing well?” Shota gave quiet recounts of his day, not wanting to ruin the calming environment you’d had created. He’d talk about funny stories of recording with Theo and Keeho, how Jiung and Intak kept teasing each other during practice, and the new moves he created with Jongseob. You nodded along as you continued your little tasks in the game, Shota watching intently. 

It was only after you finished showing off your latest creation of a heart shaped pond did you notice that he had stopped talking and was watching you instead of the game, making your face heat up at the sudden attention. 

Shutting it down and putting it aside you turn back to him,“What’s up Sho?” Mumbling out as you slide further into the bed, shifting around until you're laid on his chest, leg thrown over his, peering up through your lashes until it’s his turn to shyly avert his eyes away from your stare. 

Nudging your chin into his chest to bring his attention back to you, you ask again, “What’s on your mind baby?”. It seemed so intimate, the way you whisper it, soft eyes looking up at him as he wraps his arms to press you almost impossibly closer to him. “I love you so much.” He says barely above a whisper as he locked eyes with you, a toothy smile spreading. 

A wave of warmth hits you as you bury your face in his chest, caught off guard by the confession. “You can’t just say that all of a sudden…” The words are muffled by his shirt but still causes an airy laugh to escape him. “You asked, didn't you?” Shota said, still amused by your reaction, “I’m just really grateful to come home to you, Y/n.” You could feel his heartbeat under your fingertips, the warm feeling infectious as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “I love you too, my alien.” Huffing out one of his signature noises, you’d smile attempting to echo it back to him. 

A home filled to the brim with warmth and love. Shota runs his hand up and down your back, sometimes stopping to draw patterns on your skin as your palm smooths against his cheek brushing his hair. Eventually your eyelids start to get heavier, as your breathing steadily falls into deep sleep, Shota holds you close whispering out “I’ll love you forever.” before shutting off the lights, joining you in dreamland. 

i hope you enjoyed, please like/comment/reblog as any interactions is greatly appreciated and motivating! ©mini-mews

[yan-lorkai]

Hi Lorkai! I know you have so many requests and you're busy, so it's okay if you'll ignore this one. But it would really mean the world to me if you made this one for me, since i'm going through really hard time in my life. Thank you from the bottom of my heart 🙏🏻🥺❤️

Can you please write about Alucard being very protective and caring for his reader!Darling, who's been suffering from mental abuse from her alchoholic father for so many years? Sometimes this trauma comes back, leaving the reader a sobbing, trembling mess, unable to catch a breath.

I have always seen Alucard as my source of comfort and understanding, and as we have seen in Hellsing Ultimate, even he sheds tears when his traumatic past haunts him in his nightmares. That's why I like to imagine he would treat his beloved reader with great care and gentleness, trying to do everything in his power to keep his Darling safe and reassured that he'll always be there for her. He doesn't want the reader to suffer alone the way he did.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡A/N: Hi, darling. I'm truly sorry to hear that you're going through such a hard time right now and I want you to know that I'm here for you if you want to talk and vent. I'll hope that this can help you, even if only a little. I'm also sending you lots of strength and positivity! ⁽⁠⁽⁠ଘ⁠(⁠ ⁠ˊ⁠ᵕ⁠ˋ⁠ ⁠)⁠ଓ⁠⁾⁠⁾

You clutched your chest, feeling your lungs rise and fall at a frantic pace, a rhythm you couldn't control no matter how hard you tried. Every breath you took felt like fire, scorching your lungs, your throat and your eyes. You knew you needed to breathe, to calm down, but you couldn't remember how. Was this a panic attack? Or was it a heart attack?

Were you dying? Were the screams still echoing through the hallway? Or this was only a nightmare?

You wanted to scream, to let the tears fall, but everything felt frozen. Reality seemed to blur and warp, too real and yet not real enough. The burning sensation intensified, consuming you, threatening to overwhelm you entirely. It felt like the world was closing in, trying to crush you, leaving you powerless and desperate.

If you could find the words, that's how you'd describe the sensation - a brutal, unyielding force.

A noise beside you snapped you out of your spiraling thoughts, and you suddenly sensed his presence. Your beloved's presence, dark and oppressive yet strangely comforting, surrounded by shadows and having a startled expression on his face. You turned towards him, desperate, searching for the air that escaped you, searching for the comfort only he could give you.

The comfort he always gave you. Always present to soothe your fears and worries, always there to wipe your tear and hold you for as long as you need. Nothing, not even Integra could tear you two apart if you were having a bad time.

Alucard spent years dealing with his problems, completely alone. He forgot how the feeling is but he still remember the anguish, how draining it was, how difficult. There was no way he would let you deal with this alone.

"Darling, you're exhaling too much. Focus on my voice." Tears streamed down your cheeks, and he wiped them away with his gloveless fingers. His figure wavered before you, but his presence was unmistakable, his familiar cologne grounding you. "Breathe in, through your nose, little one."

Your eyes widened as the world seemed to crash down on your exhausted mind. You felt trapped in darkness, fumbling blindly for the light, searching for cracks on the walls and beneath doors. Searching for a way to stop the voices and the screams, wincing when Alucard's hands rested gently on your shoulders.

Stumbling through the tunnel's darkness, you saw no light, no end, no switch to bring relief. No tool to fix what was broken. Cold sweat clinged to your skin as you struggled to call for him.

His touch cool and steady, he knelt before you while he watched you. Watched pain and shame painting your face, how you bit your lips till they were bruised and bloody, eyelashes wet from your tears. "Listen to me," Alucard repeated softly, his voice a lifeline in the chaos. "Breathe in, through your nose, slowly."

You tried to follow his instructions, drawing in a shaky breath through your nose. The air felt thick, like it was fighting you, but you persisted, clinging to his voice, clinging to him as if without him beside you, you'd die. Alucard's presence was a safe haven, a stark contrast to the darkness that had you snared.

"Good," He murmured, his voice soothing. His hands were twiching, wanting to hold you but hesitant to do so. You needed space to breath and smothering you on his chest wouldn't do you any good. "Now hold it for a moment."

You held your breath, feeling your heart race as you struggled to maintain control. Alucard's fingers traced small, comforting circles on your back, trying to keep you on the present moment and not letting you sink back into your nightmare where you saw your drunk father pacing around the kitchen, slamming everything on the counter and screaming.

This was over, this was the past and here is the now, the place where you didn't have to fear.

"Now, let it out slowly, through your mouth." He whispered.

You exhaled, your breath trembling, but the burning began to ease just a little. Alucard's eyes, crimson and intense, never left yours. "Again," He urged gently, holding your hands tenderly.

You repeated the process, inhaling deeply, holding it then exhaling slowly. It was difficult and hard, relapsing every few seconds whenever your conscious remind you what your father used to scream. Yet each breath brought a tiny bit of relief, the panic slowly losing its grip though it's tendrils were still curled around your throat, holding it. Alucard's presence anchored you, his shadows swimming around you and all over you, like a giant blanket, enveloping you.

"That's it," He whispered, his voice like a soothing balm. "Keep going. You're doing well."

With each breath, the burning in your chest and throat began to subside. The world started to come back into focus, the overwhelming blur receding.

"You're safe, darling." It was true. With him, you were always safe. Always loved and protected. And you never knew fear from the day you started calling him yours. Your lover, your adorable vampire. "I'm here with you."

You nodded weakly, the tears still streaming down your face, but now because of the relief you felt. Alucard's words, his presence and his unwavering support slowly pulled you back from the edge. Like he did once, like he promised to do again and again, no matter how many time he need to.

After a few more breaths, the darkness wasn't completely gone but it was tolerable. You looked up at Alucard, exhaustion evident in your eyes as you let your head fall into his neck.

"Thank you," You whispered, your voice hoarse. Tired.

Alucard gave you a small, reassuring smile. "You're never alone, darling. Nothing can hurt, everything is fine now. You can rest now."

He gently pulled you into an embrace, his arms enveloping you in a protective hold that felt like a fortress protecting you against the chaos within and around you. His embrace was firm, tender, and the warmth of his body seeped into yours.

You let yourself sink deeper into his arms, feeling the remnants of fear and panic gradually receding. The sensations that had overwhelmed you - burning lungs, blurring vision, the oppressive weight of dread - began to dissolve in the cocoon of his hug. The profound sense of safety and comfort he provided overshadowed everything else.

The world that had seemed so overwhelming and distorted slowly began to right itself. Colors sharpened, sounds became clearer, and the crushing weight on your chest lifted, replaced by the gentle pressure of your heart beating and Alucard humming slowly.

And for now, that was enough.

It was enough to be in his arms. It was enough when he pulled you to lie down again and arranged the covers around you. And it was enough when he let a little kiss on your temple, so reverent, so warm. For now, your heart was buzzing with warm feelings, your worries forgotten while you stared at his very beautiful red eyes.

[ollycohens]

oh no you guys. i’m going to spew things i’ve realized while rewatching umbrella academy. I’m realizing were all being too sucked into fanon things after being stuck without canon content for so long. We have convinced ourselves Five acts like a mean mean dude to everyone but rewatching, i’ve realized he’s only stressed and is saying things out of panicked anger, especially in s1 with the apocalypse dooming over them. he acts soft to his siblings multiple times, he’s really not as mean as we write him in fanfiction. he is a little crap though, that’s for sure, and i love him for that <3

also realizing that the siblings don’t hate five. they just literally don’t know him at all. he came back a completely different person after 17 years for the siblings, they don’t know five, he’s a stranger so of course they’re gonna be cold to him. it’s like, “i don’t know you well, but you’re always going to be my brother in the end”.

ALSO. for those who ship some of the siblings, uhm… i’ve seen a lot of you guys try to prove that they don’t see eachother as siblings and more like academy students, but they very much say in just about every episode that they see eachother as siblings. they don’t actually SAY that word by word but they say things like “she’s our sister”, or “our dad”. if they say OUR dad… bro. i’m not even going to continue, you can put it together yourself. But, i do realize why people ship the siblings. I am not defending incest shippers but with umbrella academy i can see why people have resorted to it. only 3 of the characters in the main sibling cast has romantic partners. people like shipping people, people love writing romantic relationships, but with only diego/lila, dave/klaus, and sissy/viktor, (i’m not going to count five/dolores for now) people are desperate with the need to ship the rest of the siblings with someone, and since there are only a few actual canon characters in the show that interact with our main 7, people start shipping them together… yikes. anywho, that’s all for that peice. i blame the show writers as well for shipping luther/allison, they did not have to do that, but i’m hoping it was only to convey the severity of what childhood trauma does to people.

ALSO THIS HERE SHOOK ME. I actually think Reginald cares for the siblings. i hate to say it, but it’s true. caring for them does not mean being good, though. he was a horrible father, and person, but he genuinely did care for the siblings, in a like, “being the best is the best thing for you, i will make you better, for your sake, even if you don’t know it now, you will see that i am right” kind of way.

also why has NOBODY MENTIONED THIS. in season 2 when diego first reunites with five in the asylum, while he’s walking into the visitors room, he’s staring at five with this heartfelt, soft look, and then says “five…” in the most soft spoken voice ever 😭 your honor i love them

ALSO UGHHH THIS. IM GOING TO FREAK OUT ABOUT CAMERAWORK AND METAPHORS HERE SO BARE WITH ME. we as a fandom complain about the lack of flashbacks five has due to his ptsd. we’ve seen his first flashback since getting back to his family in s1 during the van scene when he gets triggered by those kids playing and starts thinking about his own childhood, i’m guessing. i ate that scene up, and was sad to see that be one of the only deeply vulnerable scenes he has in the season, and during my first watch i thought they’d never bring it back up. but they do!! i may be stupid for not realizing but whatever. in season 2, when five is trying to explain at elliot’s with all his siblings around that another apocalypse is coming, everyone starts talking about each other. as someone who studies film and camerawork, i love this scene. we see the camera focus on five as it slowly zooms in. it doesn’t switch scenes at all as the siblings voices overlap and echo over eachother. this whole scene conveys him getting overwhelmed and he starts to zone out, starting to think of the nuclear war he saw his siblings in. the scenes of the war start quickly switching through, showing many different scenes of it before it switches back to five, who says “guys, you all die. i want to forget it but i can’t” which just UGH its so well done there. if you think about it, he was starting to slip into another flashback. he was triggered by talking about their deaths in the war but was handling it well until the siblings started fighting, where we see the overlapping voices happen. it portrays him losing control and being unable to pull it back together with too much going on for him to focus on grounding himself. we DO however, see that five was able to pull himself out before he fell too deep into the flashback. i love how they show this through them still having the scene showing the war, but then fives voice starts talking over the scene which is still focusing on the war as if he was pushing it back and forcing himself to come back to the present.

thank you for reading if you’ve made it this far, i will continue to freak out another time <3

[anikaluv]

TOO MANY CURLS —

❤︎︎ pairing: Miles (e!1610) × Miles (e!42) × fem!black!reader

❤︎︎ genre: fluff

❤︎︎ cw: Miles (e!42) is named Myles (creative Ik), Myles being tender headed lol, reader gets relaxer, cussing, reader is tender headed :(

❤︎︎ summary: Spider-Man!Miles and Prowler!Miles as Twins where you get a relaxer and they lose their shit (feat. Rio Morales)

❤︎︎ w/c: 1k

❤︎︎ a/n: Thought it would be funny to write this like drabble, also I feel light in the Morales home they take hair routine VERY seriously so I wanted to write what would happen if this played out.

You’ve been embracing your thick curls since you were a little girl. Your love for your natural hair was absolute, but lately, the maintenance had become overwhelming. Wash days were a struggle, the pain of detangling made you dread the process, and the amount of combs you had broken was making a run for your money.

So you decided to get a relaxer.

“It was either that or the big chop” you reasoned with yourself. It had to happen at some point you concluded. 

Months have passed since you made the switch, and you've had mixed feelings. You sometimes miss the bouncy curls that used to define your look, but it’s like a weight has been lifted off your head, literally.

On this particular day, you decided to visit the Morales family after receiving a heartfelt text from Mrs. Morales,  “Necesito a mi dulce ángel de vuelta a casa (I need my sweet angel back home)."

Walking through the familiar corridors of the apartment building, you feel a sense of nostalgia. These hallways have witnessed your growth since childhood. As you approached the Morales' apartment door, you gave a soft knock, hoping to find the family inside.

The door slowly creaked open releasing sounds of blasted music, pots and pots clicking, sports of tv and various other noises. You giggled to yourself. This family will never change, you thought.

The door opened further, revealing it to be Miles. “Hey, chiquita, how are you-“ . His words trail off as he takes in your appearance. His jaw drops, and silence fills the air as he gazes at your transformed hair, clearly shocked by the change.

Miles’ eyes well up with tears as he embraces you tightly, his hands gently rubbing your back. "Oh, cariño (sweetheart)!" he exclaims, overcome with emotion. "What happened? Did some cabrón (asshole) come into your room and take down your braids?" His concern is evident in his serious tone as he looks deep into your eyes.

You raise your eyebrows in surprise, not expecting Miles to jump to such an extreme conclusion. Playfully shaking him off, you assure him, "No, of course not! I-"

Suddenly, Myles appears at the front door, searching for you. His reaction is no different from Myles’, “Miles is [your name] here yet- Oh lord.” He covers his mouth in shock, his eyes wide with disbelief. Anger fills him as he looks at your hair, his protective instincts kicking in.

“Who did this to you, mami?”, Myles asked bringing his fists together angrily. You wondered how this situation is getting out of hand so quickly. “You know me and Miles can run up on a guy.”, Miles nodded, agreeing with his twin statement as he also brought his fists together. 

Raising your arms in defense at the both of them, you tried to explain what happened carefully, “Guys, relax. I did this to myself guys, I just got tired of my hair. I had too many curls. It was too much”, you admitted. The boys scoffed in disbelief. They refused to believe that you would get rid of your perfect hair for that reason.

Before you could continue to further explain yourself, Rio Morales enters the doorway with a plate of snacks. She drops the plate in shock when she sees you, her eyes filled with sorrow. Cupping your cheeks, she exclaims, "Dios mio (Oh my god)! Who did this to you, angelita (angel)?” Her motherly instincts kick in, ready to protect you. "You know Miles and Myles can find whoever did this and teach them a lesson," she adds, echoing the boys' sentiments. The twins nod in agreement, standing by their mother's words.

Rio's fingers glided gently through your now straight hair, memories of the beautiful little girl with the luscious curly afro that you had proudly worn over the years flashed through her mind. It seemed as though time had slipped away, taking that part of you with it. She couldn't help but feel a sense of loss, and she knew she had to do something about it.

"We're going to the store. Now."

Confused, you furrowed your eyebrows. "What? Why?" But before you could get any answers, you found yourself being swiftly dragged out of the house, just as abruptly as you had been brought in.

The atmosphere in the Morales home was loud and vibrant. Soul music playing through the Morales speakers as laughter and lively conversations swirled around the room.

You sat comfortably on the floor as Rio applied the leave-in “curl enhancing” moisture conditioner into your hair. The sun setting casting a gold glow inside the room, adding to the cozy essence in the room.

As you gazed out of the window, watching the cars zip by on the busy streets below, you couldn't help but express your gratitude to Rio. "Thank you for today. Even though I tried to ignore it, deep down, not having my curls felt… different," you confessed.

With a gentle touch, Rio hummed and continued her work, applying the hair products she had carefully selected for your curls. She massaged them into your scalp with care and responded affectionately, "Anytime, baby." Her smile filled you with a sense of comfort.

As Rio went to set a timer for the conditioner, you turned your attention to the Morales twins. Miles had his bonnet securely in place while Myles sat below him, enduring the detangling process while having a fit. “Bro you doin it too hard be gentle!”, Myles whined. Miles popped him with the comb when Myles tried to put his hands in his hair and hold it down. “I don’t wanna hear this from you after you skipped cleaning your braids for almost a month!”, Miles snapped back while sucking his teeth and shaking his head disapprovingly.

You found yourself giggling at the twins antics, appreciating the support and love that the Morales family extended to you. They were there for you, even when you didn't realize you needed them, ready to lend a helping hand and stand by your side.

Now every time you feel like doing your hair is too hard , you do your wash days at the Morales home and receive all the help you need, and face the problems together.

ENDING A/N:  I thought this would be a funny idea lol, I tried to make it seem like the Morales family wasn’t forcing her back to curls against her will, yk? I think that reader would most likely miss her curls a lot, and be happy she got a lil push back to ‘em :)

TAGLIST: @janaeby @bellstwd @nmgstuff @axeoverblade @zaddyskye69 @agstuffsworld @spidrstar @laylasbunbunny@missusmorale @popeheywardssecretgf @lumineliax@fukingsad @wisteriaflowersss @crxss01

TAGS: