Latest Posts by bisuzukki - Page 2

Throwback to that time Zuko thought he could take down an airbending master that had fans

i love sleeping i love being unconscious

can we all agree that pressing foreheads together is an underrated act of affection??

If I was a king, I’d have my little jester sit on my lap and I’d give him a kiss every time he makes me laugh.

@sketchy-panda​

polish government has opened a website for ukrainians seeking safety and trying to cross the ukrainian-polish border:

ua.gov.pl

as of 13:10 polish time, it has been said as many people as possible will be let through the borders. they are also supposed to let through children who do not have passports, as to not divide families.

adding “if that makes sense” to the end of the most batshit crazy sentence ever formed

I think the counters at popular chain coffee shops I won't name should be replaced with a fully covered area where customers can't see the employees faces or what they're doing. I'm talking once ler levels of obfuscation. The counter should look like this

secondly, the whole enclosed area should constantly emit various steams and smokes like a horrible machine, and employees should be encouraged to make as much conspicuous noise as possible. I want customers to walk up to what is basically a steel wall on a steel counter, nervously place their order in a microphone, hand over their method of payment through a small door, have it returned, then the cashier slams shut the door, they hear an absolute cacophany for a minute and their drink and receipt are unceremoniously slid out the very same little door in the wall

Just a Friendly Favor

Hawks x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Synopsis: After Hawks discovers that you‘ve never received oral, he offers to show you what you’ve been missing out on

Warnings: dirty talk, wet dreams, cocky hawks, teasing, so so so much fem receiving oral, fingering, multiple orgasms, yearning & longing, a smidge of angst, friends to lovers, some embarrassment/humiliation

Word Count: 6k

A/N: Happy Valentine’s Day. There might be a part two if y’all like this one. I’d love to hear your thoughts on it!

It was a sunny day. Nothing quite out of the ordinary. A few clouds in the sky, a nice breeze to combat the warm sun. A rooftop to rest on while you sipped on iced coffee. People below having idle conversations, a momentary break with no crime. Just waiting to hear the help or the chime of your phone calling you to a fire or a robbery.

It was just a normal day, a normal break, a normal conversation with The Winged Hero that spotted you during patrol.

You felt your cheeks burn and your heart leap to life in your chest. Your voice twisted into a knot in your throat as you ignored his question, replaying how your conversation had taken such a turn. It wasn't the first time your conversations had dwelled into that territory, but that was usually when the sun was down, you were alone in a small room where the air felt too thick and your breathing was too heavy, and it was past the hour of smart choices. Like you were daring your friendship. Played chicken with how far you could push it, how many steps you could take over the fading line in the burning sand.

But it was never out in the open, sun high, Hawks staring at you like he'd heard the most ridiculous thing in his life.

"Not a single person you've been with has ever gone down on you?" Hawks cocked a brow, leaning over until you had to meet his gaze.

Words tangled in your throat like headphones in a pant pocket. You shrugged in response. You'd only been with a handful of people, and it was never something that was checked off the list. There were other forms of foreplay, sure, but the encounters never lasted long enough for that to happen.

Hawks frowned, a rare sight on his usually cheery face. He pushed his goggles to the top of his head and looked out over the skyline. Pulling another rare card: silence. Letting it fall between you as his brows pinched, losing himself in whatever thoughts were flying through his head. His unchanging expression gave no hint as to what they were. Pity? Curiosity? Disbelief?

A quiet Hawks made your nerves twist. So you did all you could think of: broke the tension.

"Asking me as if you ever have the time to do anything yourself." You laughed awkwardly. "I mean, as if you have time to do that with your partners."

Hawks didn't respond for a moment. Letting the honking cars and the rustling of the aesthetically planted trees fill the space. When he finally responded, his voice was quiet and husky. Filled with certainty and confidence only he could exude. Making the vast open space feel like a windowless closet, not enough space between you to even breathe without touching.

"On the contrary, it's what I spend the most time doing. Knowing I can make my partner cum over and over just from my mouth?" His eyes shot to you. "It's one of my favorite things."

You were holding your breath. You had no reason to be, and as your lungs started to burn, you realized you hadn't responded. But how were you supposed to? What were you even supposed to say? This wasn't the first time one of your conversations had ventured into this territory, with the mention of romantic and sexual partners, but never so explicit. And never so casually.

Many things came to mind, many of which you couldn't say. None of which you would say as your tongue felt too heavy in your frustratingly dry mouth.

You were saved by the sound of Hawks' phone chiming. His serious expression shifted as he glanced down at it. You recognized the familiar notification of a call for help. A fire had broken out and his help was needed to rescue those trapped inside. You took an impossibly slow breath as Hawks stood, stretching out his wings and sighing.

"Thanks for the coffee," Hawks mused, that familiar heart-stopping smirk creeping onto his lips. It stole the breath from your lungs as soon as it got there. "I'll see you later, (Y/N)."

He left you, as he left everyone, in the dust on the roof. Left to your endless thoughts roaming between harmless curiosities to what-ifs that previously had only made appearances when you were lying in bed alone at night. When the moon was high, your covers were kicked from your bed as you tossed and turned, and the ache that made your entire body restless took over. Dragged your mind down into the depths that sprouted from those nights with Hawks. Where your friendship blurred. Where the lightest touch that would otherwise mean nothing turned into a world of possibilities. Hands grazing as you reached for the same drink. The way his eyes watched your mouth even when you stopped speaking. How nice his body felt beneath yours as you slept on your couch, exhausted from a day of patrolling.

Then your phone chimed. A sidekick calling about a nearby incident. You took one final sip of your drink, burying down the image of Hawks kissing down your stomach, hands pressing your thighs open, his breath tickling you where you ached. You were never so thankful for getting called to work. It was the perfect excuse to prevent your mind from wandering far beyond the line of your and Hawks' friendship.

And it worked for the rest of the day. Until you got home, exhausted, drained to the point that, as soon as your head hit your pillow, you were out cold. There was no peaceful drifting into the world of dreams that people often romanticize. It was like you were thrown into a pit of darkness, swallowed by sleep, and spit out into a dream right in the middle of the action. No recollection of how you'd gotten there, but you were pressed against a wall, dress pushed up around your waist.

You blinked down, unable to fully see what was laid out before you. But you could feel it. Hands on your hips, holding them firmly back against the wall. A mouth kissing along bare skin, following the curve of your hip. Fingers tickling your skin, parting folds, making you gasp as they teased exactly where you wanted them. Pushing into you as the kisses moved downward. A mouth hovering over your clit.

"It really is," they spoke, a voice you'd recognize in an instant, "one of my favorite things."

You felt his tongue first. Flat against your clit. Then his lips closed around it and sucked. Your eyes shut, hands searching for purchase in his golden hair, back arching off the wall as his fingers curled inside you. Like he knew every inch of you and knew exactly how to make you squirm. And then it bled into so much it felt like nothing.

Like you were having an out-of-body experience. Left with only a taste of Hawks, well, tasting you. You tried with more might than you wished to admit to get back to your body. To feel the pleasure that, as you continued to writhe around, Hawks was clearly giving you. But it was like your legs were too heavy. Your eyes couldn't quite open enough. Your mind was processing directions too slowly. By the time you finally returned to your senses, when you were finally able to return to the moment, you felt like you were on the edge. The pleasure so close that you were going to burst yet entirely out of reach as, suddenly, you woke up to your alarm. Yanking you from the dream so hard you were sure you woke up with whiplash. Gasping as sweat slicked your body. Trying your best to ignore other slick parts of you.

A week passed with the same nightly occurrence. While you didn't see Hawks in person—not an uncommon occurrence given your busy schedule—you saw him every night in your dreams. Those of which were quickly becoming nightmares with how desperate they left you. Only with a tease of possibility, a taste of what it might feel like before you woke up having felt edged and unsatisfied. But you never gave in to the ache. A pang of embarrassment kept your fingers from drifting between your legs. If Hawks ever found out what you were dreaming about, how you'd woken up from said dreams and how you'd wanted to take care of that need? You were sure you'd never live it down.

So you lived with the ache. The throbbing need. Blue balling yourself so hard you had to throw yourself into your work harder than before. More hours patrolling, fewer breaks, rarely checking your personal messages. Distractions until you didn't need them anymore. But the dreams, the spiraling thoughts into the depths of Hawks that crept in during milliseconds of downtime, didn't stop. And they seemed to have no schedule of doing so.

It was a special kind of torture. One that kept you from talking to and seeing your friend while constantly thinking about them. It meant ignoring their calls and texts as you lay in bed wishing they were there beside you. Repeating every little skin-tingling thing they've said as you try to fight how they make your heart race.

No, that wasn't torture. Not compared to the evening you'd spent patrolling, came home and showered, and stepped out to hear a rapping on your balcony door. And there was only one person in your life who would show up on your balcony and so nonchalantly knock on the glass door. And he stood there, red wings basking in the moonlight, goggles on his head, eyes glittering as soon as they saw you.

"Hi," he cooed as you slid the door open, a small smile on his lips.

You tried to control the emotions that were spinning out inside you.

"Hi," you echoed back at him. Voice soft, stiff.

He leaned back against the railing of your balcony and took a slow breath, studying you dressed solely in an oversized tee-shirt and shorts so short they were hidden beneath your top.

"I wanted to apologize." He watched you closely as he spoke. "On the roof that afternoon, I hadn't meant to overstep. I'm sorry if I crossed a line with what we talked about.”

You blinked at him. You hadn't even thought about that aspect. Not during your avoidance of Hawks' calls and texts. It took a second before you could speak, but you managed to find your voice. Even if it came out a little too loud.

"No." You coughed to try and cover up the sudden volume. Trying to hide the neediness in your voice, hoping he hadn't noticed. "You didn't. I've just...been busy."

You weren't a liar when it wasn't necessary for battle or a mission. You could pull a mean poker face when needed and could monologue to distract a villain long enough to capture them. But lying to Hawks about something so intimate? An impossible task.

And Hawks absolutely knew it.

"Busy?" His mouth tipped into a smirk as he studied you. Eyes lingering over your bare thighs as he scanned down your torso. "Really?"

"Yeah," you stuttered out the word. "Busy."

Hawks nodded and pulled a hand free from a glove, removing his goggles from his head before running his hand through his hair. You watched as his fingers combed the gold strands, and Hawks cocked a brow. You hoped he hadn't heard your choked gasp as you thought back to your many dreams where you got to tangle your hands in his hair.

Then he smirked. He knew. Observant bastard. He knew.

"You sure everything's alright?" Hawks pushed off the railing and stepped towards you. It took everything in you not to blurt out something silly. "Cause you seem wound up a little tight."

He reached a hand up and—still gloveless—pinched your chin. He narrowed his eyes as he studied you. You couldn't hear the sound of the wind over your heart in your ears. His touch tingled against you. And despite not wanting to say anything stupid, your breath hitching was more than enough to compensate for that as Hawks touched you. As he stepped closer and closed the gap.

"Talk to me," he whispered.

This wasn't the first time you'd been this close. A few months back, you'd come close to kissing. Dangerously close. Mouths hovering, breathing heavy, a drink of liquor blurring away your ability to make smart choices. You would've kissed had Hawks' phone not dinged and a sobering wave of realization of what was about to happen dawned on you. You never talked about it after. But it didn't stop the small moments. Like Hawks on your balcony with very little space between you, his hand holding your chin, asking you to tell him what had you so wound up.

Him. It was all him. The dream version and the one standing before you. The cocky bastard with his knowing smirk like he could tell exactly what you were thinking. Like he knew every wet dream you'd had about him.

"It's complicated," you murmured. Voice as rough as sandpaper. Wind whipping the warm air around you.

"Uncomplicate it." Hawks met your gaze. "I want to help."

You couldn't help it. But you laughed. A little dryer than you'd meant, but it was his fault you'd started thinking about him between your legs in the first place.

"I...can't." You weren't sure what else you were supposed to say.

Hawks went quiet and you expected him to step back, say goodnight, and be on his way. To your surprise, he didn't.

"Does it have to do with our conversation on the rooftop?"

Your hesitation was answer enough for him. In an attempt to come up with the best answer, it seemed that lingering silence was more than enough. Hawks took a deep breath, his feathers rustling. His hand twitched on your chin before it slid back, gliding across your jaw. You nearly stumbled back at the movement, biting your lip to prevent a gasp from sneaking out.

"(Y/N)," Hawks said so softly you barely registered it. "Let me make it up to you."

"You have nothing to-"

"Let me make it up to you," he repeated, mouth moving to hover over yours.

A beat of silence, your brain scrambling with his mouth so close to yours.

"How?" You weren't sure why you were asking. Hawks was going to tell you regardless. Even if he didn't owe you anything.

He shifted. Leaning forward until his mouth was beside your ear. His breath tickled your skin as he spoke.

"Let me make up for how your previous partners have been lacking." His next breath came out ragged. Your heart surely had come to a stop in your chest. You swallowed hard, rushing to process Hawks' words to make sure you hadn't misheard him.

"W-What?"

You pulled back as much as you could manage, meeting Hawk's gaze. Those gold irises darkened and glittered. Pupils blown and nearly swallowing the rich color. You felt floaty under his stare, feeling your heartbeat over every inch of you. That ache you woke up with every morning was back tenfold. He looked like he wanted to eat you alive in all the ways you'd dreamt; his feathers stiff on his wings as he waited. Struggling not to fill the silence as you took shallow after shallow breath.

"Let me show you," he said as his eyes dropped over your chest, stomach, and down to where the hem of your shirt covered, "what you've been missing."

And then Hawks said the unexpected in a voice so strained it shattered what little sanity you had left. What was keeping him on the patio and you inside your apartment. It croaked out of him in a voice dripping with as much need as you were sure you were dripping with. Just a simple, desperate please.

Hawks was always particular about his behavior. Every action he'd taken, every word he'd said, every smile he's given. It'd always been deliberate. He'd always oozed charisma, whether it's practiced or genuine. He could have a reporter or fan blushing and blubbering from a little look and a lean. Add a few flirtatious words, and you were sure they would've combusted on the spot.

He rarely ever lost control, rarely ever let that facade slip. Not unless there was a purpose. Not if there was a chance the cameras might catch it.

You'd seen the confidence. You'd seen the charisma. But you'd never seen it so outwardly directed at you when Hawks was so obviously not playing a role. So you blamed your response on that. It was the only option when you nodded your head and whispered the quietest okay. And with a swiftness you only saw in battle, Hawks was inside your apartment, balcony door shut, blinds drawn, your back pressed against it.

You'd thought about kissing him a few times even before your almost kiss. And you'd certainly thought about it many times after. But when his lips met yours in a slow, hungry kiss that was meant to tease, it was better than you'd ever imagined. It made your head spin, the way his mouth melded with yours. How his hands found their way into your hair and tugged, tongue grazing your lip as you gasped. It was a preview. An example of what he could do with his tongue before he got to the main act.

He didn't have to kiss you, not when all you'd agreed to was him putting his tongue somewhere else, but you weren't going to complain. You weren't going to stop. You couldn't stop, not when it finally felt like you'd gotten a sip of water after a day without it. Not when Hawks made your entire body burn and all he was doing was kissing you.

"How can I have you?" He asked as he nipped along your jaw, hands dropping to your hips with a deliciously tight grip.

You responded with a whimper in the vein of a what? Hawks smirked against you, fingers slowly bunching up the fabric of your shirt.

"Do you want to stay in this?" He tugged on your shirt. "Or do you want to lay bare?"

A groan slipped out and you mentally cursed yourself. He had such a potent effect on you that it was worrisome. Another whispered curse followed when his fingers hooked around the waistband of your shorts, the tips tickling beneath your navel, and he pulled up.

"Or if you wish to keep these on as well. I can make that work too. I like a challenge."

The tiny bit of friction that came from Hawks' tug drove you up the wall. You immediately wanted more, and you would give it to him with just the muttering of the words. All he had to do was ask.

He tugged on them a few more times before he kissed down your neck, only lingering a moment, and then he was on his knees. He looked up at you with an innocence so mocking that it should've sparked anger in you. And then he leaned forward and kissed exactly where your clit was through your shorts. Pressing his tongue hard so you could feel it through the fabric and your eyes fluttered closed.

"You haven't answered me, (Y/N)." He twirled his fingers around the waistband of your shorts, stealing a bit of your underwear with them. "Tell me what I am allowed to have and what I am allowed to do."

You barely managed to breathe out an off. Hawks had you in the palm of his hand, giving you a feigned sense of control, when he knew exactly how you turned to putty under his touch.

Slowly, he tugged your shorts down. "So I can have these off?"

You nodded, breathing going rapid as he pulled them down your legs.

"And what about these?" He didn't touch you, forcing you to open your eyes to see him staring at your underwear. His eyes met yours. "And do you want me to stop after just one? Or am I allowed to go until you can't give me any more? Because I will tongue fuck you until I get every last drop, (Y/N)."

Even if you could speak, you weren't sure what you could say in response. But Hawks had successfully stolen your voice. Along with any coherent thoughts. All you could do was stare at him as you soaked your underwear, inching closer to him, discovering just how much he affected you.

"And tell me," he murmured, his fingers coming up and gently flicking over the crotch of your underwear. He cocked a brow and from even the light touch, you knew he could feel how badly you wanted this. Wanted him. But he continued on with his previous point, his fingers twitching to go back and touch what he'd just gotten a slight taste of. He held his hand beside his face and wiggled his fingers lazily. "Am I allowed to use these, too?"

You said his name. It was meant to be a warning, but it came out far closer to a plea. A beg. You wanted him to touch you. More than you wanted anything at that moment. And all it did was make Hawks' grin widen and his eyes flicker with mischief.

Carefully rising to his feet, Hawks leaned forward, making sure his lips grazed yours. "You have until we get to your bedroom to decide your answers to those questions. Otherwise," Hawks said as he nipped at your bottom lip, "I'm leaving you just like this. And the offer's off the table."

Hawks had more control than you did. He'd proven it ten times over during your friendship. So it was an easy threat. One he wouldn't hesitate to follow through with. So you had to have answers for him. Even if your mind struggled to make them as you were guided to your bedroom, thoughts scrambling to form proper sentences. But you couldn't get a grasp on the words. As soon as they came, they left. So you worked with what you could manage, blurting them out as soon as Hawks closed your bedroom door.

"Whatever you want. You can have whatever you want."

Hawks stopped, hand on your doorknob, seeming to slow his breathing before he turned to face you. He stalked towards you like a feline at its prey.

"Really?" He took a slow step forward.

You nodded.

"So I can have you naked, entirely bare to me?" He hooked two fingers underneath the hem of your shirt. You nodded. "And I can lick that pretty clit until you can't cum anymore?"

You nodded again, barely able to hold eye contact.

"And I can plunge my fingers as deep as you'll take them so I can feel every little squeeze of that cunt as I devour you?"

"Yes," you squeaked out, and it almost looked like something feral inside Hawks snapped.

"Then get on the bed. Now."

You did as you were told, crawling back onto your mattress, Hawks stalking after you. You expected claws tearing your shirt off. Knees nudging your legs apart as he went directly for the kill. But he kissed you slowly, swallowing every moan and sigh that slipped from you as his hands slid over your ribs. They took your shirt with them, only breaking the kiss to pull it over your head. And as his eyes dropped to your chest, you felt his hips twitch between your legs, something hard pressing against your cunt as Hawks seemed to memorize your chest. Nipples hard and taut, goosebumps covering your skin as the faint chill from your AC kicked in.

"Go ahead," you muttered, praying that you were reading Hawks' expression right. And the way his eyes shot to yours told you that you had.

"I'm here to taste that sweet cunt, (Y/N)." He started to kiss down your chest, stopping over your breasts. He flicked his tongue out just enough for it to brush a nipple. A fleeting touch as he continued to kiss down your stomach. "Another time, and I will lavish that chest with the attention it deserves."

Another time.

Your breath hitched. A thought you couldn’t dwell on as Hawks smirked, hooking his fingers over the crotch of your underwear, lazily pulling them down. He guided them down your thighs, over your knees, from around your ankles, before acting almost bored as he dropped them to the floor.

"But now," he cooed as he dropped to his stomach, pushing your thighs as wide as they'd go, "I have to show you what you've been missing out on."

He parted your folds with his fingers, wasting no time in groaning and gathering your wetness on his fingers. He used his thumb and forefinger to hold them open as he blew gently on your clit, licking his lips as he smirked.

"Someone's excited." He leaned forward and barely let the tip of his tongue swipe against your clit. You jolted at the minimal contact. "Just for me?"

He was waiting for a response. He kept you spread wide, mouth hovering, waiting for you to answer him. You glanced down at him and you practically felt yourself getting wetter. He hadn't even done anything, and he was already driving you mad.

"Yes," you said, and it wasn't a lie. "Just for you."

"Good girl," he cooed. "Now, if you want me to stop, just say the word. Alright?"

You nodded, and Hawks gave you a pointed look. Blew gently on your clit and waited.

"Alright," you said, strained.

"Atta girl."

He gave you one final smirk before his mouth was put to use. He wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked ever-so-gently. Careful in his movements, delicate and precise, making sure to draw out every possible ounce of pleasure he could get from you. Flattening his tongue against your clit and licking slow lines. Pushing your legs up and open and sucking softly. Letting the tip of his tongue circle and lick your clit in rapid succession, switching between rapid flicks and slow licks. His mouth dipping lower, tongue prodding at your entrance. Never giving you too much at once, eyes occasionally bouncing up to yours to study your expression. Repeating what made you tense and tremble, obviously in no rush to finish the job.

His fingers dug into your thighs as he teased your clit over and over. It felt so good. Impossibly so. Endlessly better than your dreams. Your Dreams. You groaned, remembering all the nights you'd dreamt of this, of all the mornings you'd woken up wishing you had just let your fingers drift between your legs. Making you feel exactly how Hawks was. So close. So impossibly close. You never got the release with dream Hawks. Always woke up before you could cum. But Hawks, the one actually between your legs, was on a mission. And the dedication and determination he was putting in was pushing you closer and closer. Your body started to shake and your brows pinched. Not once had you ever thought Hawks would end up between your legs, giving you exactly what you'd been dreaming about. Fantasying about.

And then his head lifted.

"I must not be doing that good of a job if you're lost in thought," Hawks' voice penetrated your thoughts. It was rhetorical, of course. Hawks knew he was driving you absolutely mad. So much so that you could barely process anything except the pleasure.

It wasn't a question, but the way Hawks lifted his head and swapped his tongue for a finger, slowly circling your clit to the point where your trembling thighs had no chance of stopping, told you he wanted an answer.

"Tell me," he murmured, running his finger a little slower. Counterintuitive as it just drew the pleasure out in longer waves. "What could possibly draw your attention away from this?"

Your heart fell into your stomach, twisting and turning as you grew closer to the edge even from just one of Hawks fingers on your clit. The slow circles making you close to begging for more. For his tongue to go back to massaging your clit, for his finger to just go faster, or to even dip lower and slip inside you. You couldn't tell him you'd dreamt of him. He'd never let you live that down. As if he was ever going to let you live this down. You could ignore an almost kiss. You couldn't ignore Hawks having his tongue inside you.

"I was just thinking about..." You swallowed, trying to fight the way you stuttered through your words. "How much better this is than when I dreamt about it."

Hawks' eyes narrowed. Sharpened.

"Dreamt of it? With me?"

"With you."

Hawks' finger stopped for half a second, his eyes closed, head hung a bit. His hair tickled your abdomen as he let out a shaky breath.

"I want to know every detail of those dreams." He lowered his head back down as his finger worked a little faster, circling your swollen clit with precise circles and a speed meant to jerk you close to the edge. "Another time. But, Christ, I want to know them. But right now, I want to make those dreams a reality for you. So," Hawks said as he opened his eyes and peered up at you. "I'm not stopping until you really give me every last drop."

His tongue replaced his finger, and he didn't stop the fast kitten licks even as your back arched off the bed and the coil in your abdomen tightened. Not when you said his name, a mantra on your lips as if you were trying to warn him. Nor when your hands anxiously shot to his hair to try and get a grip on something. Because you were so close. So close. And Hawks knew it. Never—not once—backing off as your heels searched for traction on your bed. They slid as you pressed your head back into your pillow, hips pressing up against his face.

"Hawks, Hawks, Hawks," you pled.

And then he wrapped his lips around your clit and hummed. Sucking as the vibrations rocked you right over the edge. Without any restraint, without any mercy. Like he shoved you off a crumbling edge, down into the depths below, his feathers falling around you as you tumbled.

You came. And you came hard. Digging your nails into Hawks’ scalp, tugging on his hair, kicking out at the bed as you came. Every muscle in your body tensing as you writhed beneath him.

Hawks lifted his head only when you tugged gently on his strands, unable to handle the light licks of his tongue on your throbbing clit. His mouth twitched into a smirk as he looked at you, mouth glistening. He licked his lips and cocked a brow.

"Good girl." He ran his thumb lazily over your clit. Smirking as you jerked with each graze. He gave no warning for his thumb speeding up and his other hand pressing two fingers against your entrance. "Now give me another."

And you did. Taking his fingers knuckle deep, eyes closing as his thumb practically abused your clit and his fingers worked your cunt. Over and over until your back bowed and you came around his fingers. But he didn't remove them from you. Just switching his thumb for his mouth and went for another. And another. Until tears were streaming down your cheeks, your body hurt from the tensing muscles and the exertion, and you came more times than you could count on one hand. Hawks knew after the first one how to get you off with his mouth. Knew how to get you off with his fingers after the second. And he showed you just how good his memory was, how dedicated he was to getting you off, with each orgasm he tore from you.

Sweat soaked you and your sheets, and your wetness dripped down your thighs as Hawks continued to finger fuck you, his fingers squelching with each pump.

"H-Hawks," you begged, gasping when he pulled his fingers from you. He licked them clean before propping his chin in one hand and eyeing you.

"Done already?"

You stole a glance at your nightstand's clock. Hours. Hours had passed. You weren't sure you could give him anymore. You hadn't been keeping track, but you knew it was getting close to hitting double digits. If it hadn't already.

Your eyes fell to the way Hawks' hips were pressed against the bed. He could have as much control as he wanted, but he had to have been hurting. You'd noticed it earlier, hours earlier, and a dangerous thought came to mind that you immediately quelled. This was already friendship-altering. You couldn't ignore this like you could a potential kiss. And if this was just a one-time thing, even if Hawks had said another time, you couldn't risk ruining what little bits you had left with asking him to fuck you.

You wanted him to, badly. To practically fuck you into the mattress.

"And here I was hoping to get at least five more out of you." He ran his thumb over your clit, and you jumped so hard that Hawks laughed. "But I wouldn't wanna abuse this pretty pussy too much."

He kissed your clit one final time before he pushed himself up from your bed, giving you a sight of exactly how much he had to have been struggling. His loose pants did nothing to hide the tent of his erection. He followed your gaze and gave you the same smirk he always did.

"Don't." He crawled over you and pressed his mouth to yours. You could taste yourself on his lips, his tongue, as he kissed you dumb. "You're already exhausted." His nose nudged yours. "I did what I said I’d do. And you, well, came like you were supposed to."

There was the faintest hint of bittersweet in his voice. He hoisted you up from the bed, giving you no time to register his body leaving yours before you were in his arms.

"Come, let's get you cleaned up."

He carried you into your bathroom and started the shower.

"Join me," you muttered, barely able to stand. You leaned on him for support when he sat you down.

"Wow, and here I thought you were spent." Hawks pulled the curtain back and guided you in.

"Will you be here when I get out?" Your eyes felt heavy as the warm water washed over you.

"You already know the answer to that." For the first time that night, his smile wavered. His jaw clenched. His wings tensed.

You started to say his name, but he drew you into another kiss, not caring about the water wetting his hair, his face, his clothes. That bittersweet feeling was back. An uncertainty that you couldn't tell came from you, Hawks, or maybe the both of you. His tongue grazed yours once before he was gone, two feathers left behind to close the shower curtain behind him.

You leaned against the freezing wall and listened to the water circle down the drain knowing Hawks wasn't going to be there when you got out.

You had no idea what came next, but you knew it wasn't going to be putting this night behind you. Even if you wanted to, it was imprinted on you like Hawks' fingertips on your thighs. And you weren't sure whether you were excited or nervous to see Hawks after this.

Only time could tell.

And it was going to be a fair amount of time before you saw Hawks again. Despite your own desires to see him sooner.

When you got out of the shower, you dreamt of the nights you and Hawks had spent the night together, bodies pressed together and hearts racing, hands never roaming. Of the days you spent patrolling together, attending events, bitching about responsibilities.

Of him spending the night beside you that night, ignoring how empty your bed felt without him beside you.

You weren’t sure what was supposed to come next, but when you woke up sore and spent the next morning, you couldn’t stop the ache in your chest as you thought about Hawks. And what you lost in what you’d gained last night.

Dabi’s little game

Bestie, I need MORE

I wrote a very short thing i don’t hate that isn’t specific to any character, i just liked the concept of the scene and started writing. what do y’all think? It’s meant to have enemies to lovers vibes

The blade sat beneath your chin, the tip pricking your skin until a bead of blood formed. It dripped down the expanse of bare skin of your neck, traveling along your clavicle and mixing in with the sweat slicking your skin. Your clothes stuck to your skin, hands trembled on the rough concrete.

"Yield," he murmured.

His chest rose and fell at a pace that contrasted yours. His slow and steady. Yours like your pounding heart, searching for a moment to breathe. To let your guard down. But that was how you'd gotten into this scenario.

"I'm to be killed anyway," you huffed, voice strained. "Feel free to claim the bounty as your own."

The blade wavered. A blade that never wavered. That had struck down contract upon contract. It hesitated.

"You ran." His words were not of the wind. They were like stakes being hammered into the ground. The flat of the tool smacking into your chest with each word. "You have nowhere to go. Left to fend for yourself with nothing. No weapon, no plan, no hope. But you ran. Are you an optimist or a horrible coward trying to outrun death?"

"Perhaps both." You forced yourself to meet his gaze. "Forgive a person for fearing death."

"What's there to fear when you have nothing left to lose?" He pressed the blade harder. You winced, eyes closed, a tear sneaking down your cheek.

"What isn't there when there's so much left to gain?"

A glance at his face showed a mask. A well-practiced one that took years upon years to perfect. Hardened by death and torment. And it slipped. Barely. Just enough to see the human beneath the myth. Beneath the mercenary who'd taken up the mantle of Death.

You'd fought him—someone who stood no chance against his combat expertise. And you'd lost. Unequivocally so. Yet you weren't begging. You weren't yielding. You held your ground even as the fear seeped from you like water from a cloth. Like the blood his blade drew from your neck, from many necks.

Terrified yet fearless. Brave yet unsure. Lost but determined. So similar to someone who'd long been gone. It twisted a wound deep beneath scarred tissue. Jerked something so deep and buried it shook him. Uncomfortably so.

He lowered his blade.

"If you're going on the run, you really ought to have a plan. And the bare minimum combat skills."

Your brows pinched. Face morphed into disbelief.

"You're not going to kill me?"

"No." He stepped back. Cocked an uninterested brow. "I'm going to do the opposite. Get up."

A second of hesitation before you stood on shaky legs. You waited, in case it was a trick. A false hope before striking you down. But he just looked over his shoulder and scoffed.

"Come. Let's turn you into the survivor you wish to be."

happy valentines day to howl and sophie only

RIP to everyone killed by the gods for their hubris but im different. and better. maybe even better than the gods

Sokka and Zuko can be together without sokka giving up his entire culture, home, and heritage send tweet

I’m rewatching her private life and Ryan Gold really is one of the best male leads I’ve ever seen. The first few episodes are just him being like “I must protect my lesbian employee and her lover at all cost” and I love him for that

*Feels lonely*

*Watches a Kdrama*

*Feels lonelier*

i can’t believe it took me this long to put this together .... king and lionheart ... the prince and the fool... as the world comes to an end, i’ll be there to hold your hand...he needed you, zuko, to remind him that being brave can mean failing...

reasons aunt wu should be in the white lotus include but are not limited to: a) they need more women and b) she can continue to ruin the life of her greatest nemesis, sokka

zuko finds out sokka loves to paint and is terrible at it and is like "hey i was forced to learn to paint as part of my royal tutoring, why dont i teach you some stuff?"

and after so many long months of showing him various techniques and such, zuko discovers that sokka has literally not improved at all and hes like "what the fuck man"

and sokkas like "did u really expect me to be able to hear you with you whispering in my ear and holding my brush hand??? all my brain function just goes to 'oh no hot boy!'"

and zukos like

"u think im hot?"

Ocean Vuong, On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous

screenshot to see ur nickname!

“Sooo..Date me” - a bakukami fic

Hey everyone, here’s another fic, this time a bakukami! I apologize for any grammar mistakes! Hope you enjoy! 

Summary: Bakugo makes a blunt statement and Denki doesn’t know how to respond or why Bakugo would say those words.

“So…date me.”

Denki blinks. He opened his mouth to speak, unable to find any words; he closed it again, unsure how to respond to that blunt statement. It wasn’t as if the curt tone threw him off—that tone was simply Bakugo’s regular voice—but the words themselves that made Denki’s swirling mind freeze and gape at Bakugo. His pencil fell from his grasp, and it rolled across the desk, and it dropped to the ground, a harsh clank against the flooring, it rang in Denki’s ears, breaking the echoing silence.

He stares at Bakugo, and Bakugo begins glaring at him, his lips turned down into a slight frown, almost like a pout, and Denki wants to reach across the desk and touch it and force those pink pouty lips into a smile, or at least the most equivalent version of a Bakugo smile. Either way, Denki wants a Bakugo smile thrown in his direction, whether it was the soft, fond one that plays at the edge of his mouth or the one that curls and his teeth are baring like a tiny chihuahua baring its mouth to a stranger—either one would still make Denki’s heart flutter at sight.

Tilting his head to the side, Denki laughs out his answer awkwardly, “What?”

Bakugo was leaning back in his chair, touching the desk behind him as his eyes flicker over Denki’s face. It shouldn’t be hot, but it is. His top buttons, as always, opened, showing off his glistening skin, and Denki swallows. His fingers twitch against his thighs, wanting nothing more than to run his fingers up Bakugo’s chest, linger against the skin and slowly button the shirt to its proper form. Denki clenches his hand, letting the nails dig into his palms.

His eyes flicker back to Bakugo’s, and he sees a growing, mischievous, cocky, smug smile that has Denki holding back a groan and his nails trying to break the skin. Denki hated how much he found Bakugo Katsuki attractive. He wants to kiss that smirk off his face and leave him breathless the same way Bakugo leaves him.

“I said,” Bakugo pauses, arching an eyebrow, a smirk plastered on his face that makes Denki’s breath hitch. He lets his chair fall forward with a sudden smack, and he leans across the desk, pushing the abandoned notebook and book across, creating a distance between the two. Red eyes never waver from Denki’s, and from beneath his eyelashes, Bakugo slowly enunciates the next words. “Date. Me.”

Denki stares at Bakugo, ignoring the flutter in his stomach from the way Bakugo’s tongue rolled out the words. The beats between the two and the deep growl he adds to it—it shouldn’t make Denki’s knees and breath quiver, but it does, and Denki’s grateful he’s already sitting down. The thumping of his heart from feeling the intense look from red eyes that makes his skin tight and burn from its intensity. And, the smirk that makes Denki want to reach over, grab Bakugo by the collar, pull him until their lips meet in a clash.

Denki swallows again and breaks eye contact. “Why…” he clears his throat and tries again, “why would you say that?”

“Didn’t you say that anyone would be lucky to have me?”

“That was weeks ago!” Denki splutters. “I-I obviously said that after y’know,” he flaps his hands, “After you confessed that you never dated anyone and in a moment of bro bonding, I said it to make you feel better, Kacchan.” His hands moved along to his words. Denki’s eyes flicker around the room, trying to avoid Bakugo’s eyes. “And…and why are you even bringing this up? I thought we agreed on what happened during bros nights stays at bros nights. How dare you break the sacred bro code?! An-”

Denki squeaked out the last word as Bakugo’s hands captured his hands, and Denki let the rest of the sentence die on his tongue. His cheeks burned.

“Oi, Dunce face, you’re rambling,” Bakugo let his hands go. “Nearly knocked me over with all those hand movements.” He fell back into his seat. “Date me. It’s as simple as that. You said anyone would be lucky to have you, so it’s your chance to be lucky.” Bakugo rolls his eyes.

“That’s not how it works. You can’t just say something like that out of the blue. You can’t expect me to accept it. Because this has to be a joke.” Denki stares at his fingers, afraid to look at Bakugo because if he does, he knows he’ll start crying.

Because here’s his crush giving him the opportunity to date, and Denki knows it’s all a joke. Almost every time Denki had been asked out was one, and how could this be any different.

He fiddles with his fingers trying to stop the bubbling of tears. He feels a foot press against his, and for some reason, it calms him enough that his leg stops its shaking motion (and if he presses the same amount of pressure back and the other foot tries to find Bakugo’s, well that’s between him, Bakugo and the gods).

“Bakugo, you can’t joke about things like that, especially to me,” Denki mutters.

“Oi! You really think I’m joking about this! Do you really think that low of me?” The foot moves away, and Denki does everything in him to stop his foot from chasing after it, wanting at least that small comfort, that small initiative of physical contact.

“Of course not!” Denki quickly says, a little bit too fast, a little bit too harsh. He throws a glare at Bakugo and he swallows before firmly saying “No, never. I would be a shitty extra if I did think less of you.”

Denki wants to reach over and grab Bakugo’s hands again, but he can’t. He can’t let him know how much he craves the small touches between them and how much he really wants to kiss him until they’re both gasping for air, and and and and how much he loves him.

Maybe love is a strong word to use, but, fuck Denki knows that whatever this feeling is for this pomeranian dog, gremlin of a person is extremely close to love.

“It’s just… it’s just..” Denki trails off, his eyes began to water, and he looked down at his fingers—the skin around his thumbs picked, a small dot of blood spilling across his skin, he pulls it up to his mouth and takes it in, trying to use it as a block to prevent him from saying anything else. Pulling it back out, he smiles at Bakugo and waves his hands as erasing the moments before. “Forget I said anything. But, Kacchan, I can’t date you anyways….”

Denki wonders if Bakugo will believe him about his next words or if Shinsou would mind using him as a deflective tool and avoid exposing his true feelings for Bakugo. He’ll make it up to Shinsou after this is over; maybe he’ll invite Deku along to the plans so the lovebirds could hang out. Yeah, Denki thought, a solid plan, and maybe he’ll manage to leave the outing and go sorrow in his misery and maybe cry over this whole ordeal.

“I’m kinda seeing Shinsou.” Denki breathed out. He fiddled with his fingers, trying to avoid Bakugo’s eyes, anything that would expose him for lying.

“Tch,” Denki’s eyes flickered up to Bakugo, who was watching him behind slitted eyes, and his lips curled into a sneer, “You may want to talk to Eyebags about that. Last time I checked, he and Shitty Deku were dating. Committed.” Bakugo narrowed his eyes at Denki’s groan.

Denki covered his face. Of course, Deku would tell Bakugo about his relationship—Bakugo may adamantly decline his and Deku’s friendship, but it was clear to anyone that the duo patched things over and could hold conversations again, but Denki hadn’t realized how close the pair had gotten.

Of course, now Denki is truly fucked.

Denki peaked between his fingers, and he could see the twitch at the corners of his lips. His lips still curled, baring his teeth, and his eyes narrowed, but Denki was one of the few people who could easily read Bakugo, and his red eyes twinkle with amusement, and Denki wanted to capture that small spark and hold onto it like a small speck of a flame.

“Are you laughing at me, Kacchan?” Denki’s words made Bakugo huff out a laugh, and the corners of his mouth twitched into a suppressed smile. Now, that is something Denki wants to paint across the walls, frame it in a gallery because that soft, shy smile made Denki warm.

It made Bakugo look softer. He is handsome, but once, Bakugo stopped making those forced anger, annoyed expressions—he still looked hot with those looks, but when Bakugo let his face relax into his natural demeanor, it made Denki want nothing more to engrave the image behind his eyelids or tattoo it against his skin—an exaggeration he knows, but goddamn, Bakugo is so fucking handsome that it made Denki go a little insane. His fingers twitched to grab his phone and capture the image, but doing so would kinda expose him—he does manage to capture some of those fond smiles Bakugo tries to hide behind his explosive demeanor, but Denki knows.

“Tch,” Bakugo leans forward, his fingers drumming against the desk, a smirk and mirth dancing in his eyes. “You’re a worse liar than Deku. But, I praise the attempt.” He huffs out.

“Kacchan.” Denki groans. “Can we just pretend none of this happened and go back to studying?”

“And, here, I thought you would want to… I don’t know…do anything but study. That’s the first, Sparky. Full of surprises.” He shakes his head. “But, Dunce face, I do actually mean it. Date me.”

Denki’s eyes roamed over Bakugo’s face, trying to find something that proves that he’s lying or something that’s a joke, anything to avoid getting hurt. But, he knows that Bakugo wouldn’t lie; he’s not someone to lie, whether meaningless or important. Bakugo was blunt as fuck, and he wouldn’t lie––at least that’s what Denki thinks.

“How,” Denki paused. He swallowed before speaking again, his fingers trembling against his thigh and his heart hammering against his chest. Knots forming in his stomach.

“How what? Spit it out.”

“How do I know if you actually do mean it?” Denki yelled out. He pressed his lips together, and he wanted nothing more than to run out of the room and pretend none of this was happening.

That Bakugo isn’t sitting before him with the most handsome face, and kissable lips, and and and….he rather pretend than face this head-on, and he knows that’s the opposite of what Bakugo deserves in a partner, but Denki is someone not worthy to be Bakugo’s partner. Anyone would be a better fit than Denki.

“Tch. Can’t believe I have to spell it out for you, Dunce Face.” But, Bakugo stopped. His eyes flickered over Denki’s face, and Denki knew he saw the unspilled tears building in his eyes and the way his lips began to tremble. Bakugo’s face softened.

“Hey, Denks,” Bakugo whispered. He brushed a finger against Denki’s cheek, and Denki closed his eyes and breathed in. “Can I…Can I kiss you?”

Denki’s eyes flung open. His throat was closing up, and he didn’t know what to do.

“Please, Denki. Can I kiss you?” Denki nodded, fingers gripping his cheeks, forcing him to look upwards into determined red eyes. “I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes.” Denki breathed out.

That’s all it took for Bakugo to sweep in and close the distance between the two. His lips were soft against Denki’s, and it felt amazing. It was softer than Denki originally thought kissing Bakugo would be like. He always imagined it being rough, aggressive, a flurry of explosions. He didn’t expect this softness. This spread of warmth throughout his body and fingers gentle against his skin.

Denki leaned further into the kiss. The desk dug into his stomach, and his fingers gripped against Bakugo’s shirt in a desperate hold. He wanted to close any distance between them. He wants to convey everything he feels for Bakugo in this kiss. He wants him to know that he genuinely cares and loves him. Because this may be the only chance he’ll get to kiss his crush, and he wants to make sure it’s worth the heartache.

Bakugo pulls back and Denki sighs. His eyes flutter open. “Stop thinking. I know you think this is a joke or whatever, but it’s fucking not. Denki Kaminari, I like you. I like the way you push me to be friendly or whatever. And, you bring out a side of me that I never expected. You’re never one to back down on telling me off. You just, fuck, Dunce Face. You gotta trust me, okay. I’m not one that uses words or shit. Just let me prove it to you.” Bakugo leans in and kisses Denki again.

Whispering against his lips, “So, date me, Denki.”

“Katsuki,” Denki breaths out. “Yeah, okay.”

“Good. Maybe you do have a brain in there.”

“Yeah, you think?”

“Yeah, it knows that you’re about to be the luckiest person in the world. Shitty extras are going to be jealous that you’re dating The Bakugo Katsuki.” Bakugo grins.

Denki huffs out a laugh, the edges of his lips twitching into a smile. “Shitty extras don’t know what they’re missing.”

Denki leans in again for another kiss. They continue kissing until they lose their breaths.

Denki may still think he’s not worth being Bakugo’s partner, but he’s sure as hell is going to enjoy being by his side as long as Bakugo wants him to. But that’s for another day to worry about; for now, Denki is enjoying the feel of Bakugo’s soft lips against his.

all my crushes on my mutuals are purely platonic. anyway on an unrelated note who doesn’t love a good friends to lovers arc.

Zuko is Trans and Dramatic!

I’m rewatching her private life and Ryan Gold really is one of the best male leads I’ve ever seen. The first few episodes are just him being like “I must protect my lesbian employee and her lover at all cost” and I love him for that

*Feels lonely*

*Watches a Kdrama*

*Feels lonelier*

“WRITE IT BADLY. Write it badly, write it badly, write it badly, write it badly. Stop what you’re doing, open a Word document, put a pencil on some paper, just get the idea out of your head. Let it be good later. Write it down now. Otherwise it will die in there.”

— Brandon Sanderson on overcoming writer’s block to create a first draft as a professional author (via almost-always-eventually-right)

you can't tell me this doesn't happen

you’re normal. zuko and sokka are in love and you have the audacity to act normal.