#I’m hating my body again hah I try to take pics a lot so I look back and think I was sexy

[fair-dinkum-mechanic]

Cried at the gym bc I’m weak :’)

[izaswritings]

Title: who we are in the aftermath

Fandom: The Owl House

Synopsis: Belos falls and the Golden Guard survives. It’s a new world and a new day, and sooner or later Hunter has to figure out where he fits in it. 

Or: in which Hunter stays at the Owl House, becomes a (very, very reluctant) apprentice, continues to have accidental sibling shenanigans with the annoying human, and finally finds a place where he belongs. Probably.  

AO3 link is here.

[Next chapter is here!]

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chapter one: battling birds

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They give him a room near the east side of the house, stuffed full of broken things and a miscellaneous number of random items. It’s not the human’s old room, and not Lilith’s, either—there’s too much dust and too much stuff for either option. Hunter can’t tell if he’s grateful for this or not. He’s still deciding on whether he’s grateful for the room at all.

There’s no time to set up a bed. He spends his first night here on a blanket, restless and half-awake and lying so still he’s half-convinced he’s shaking from the strain of not moving at all, not making a single sound. He can practically taste the dust on every inhale—does the Owl Lady ever clean, Titan help him—and by some godawful midnight hour Hunter gives up on sleep entirely and sits up, carefully, to whisper to his palisman. 

Nothing important. None of the real questions that are swirling around in his head, like what am I even doing here and why am I still here and what am I supposed to do now, do you know? Instead he just says nonsense things, useless things, like “If I shine a flashlight in that little demon’s face do you think I could get him to chase the dot?”

The palisman coos and chirps and sings nonsense back. Red is a pretty color. I like tulips. If we iced over the Boiling Sea could we make human rain? 

“None of those answers make sense,” Hunter tells it, and then writes a small note about the sea and rain connection on the dusty floor, if only because that’s actually kind of interesting and he wants to check it out again later. 

Red tulips are tasty, replies the palisman, and nuzzles his fingers when he goes to pet it. Its feathers are soft and its eyes are luminous in the moonlight. Nonsense, all of it, but the nonsense helps—familiar as a friend, safe and easy. Better than thinking of Belos. Better than wondering what he’s doing here, sleeping on the floor in the Owl Lady’s house.

The human has left. He could walk out right now and she’d never know, not that her disappointment has any bearing on if he chooses to stay or go. She’s vanished back to the human world, probably gone forever. This house means nothing to Hunter—the Owl Lady is annoying and dislikes him about as much as Hunter dislikes her, and as endearing as the weird little demon is, that isn’t enough to make Hunter want to stay. 

He could leave easily. He could go anywhere. He has nowhere to go.

“I don’t know what to do,” Hunter tells the palisman, at last, hours later. It is almost morning. The sunrise has only just begun, the peace of this dusty attic room wavering thin and fragile in the light of early dawn. It is a quiet admission. He says it very soft. “I don’t know if I know anything.”

I love you, says the palisman.

“That’s not an answer either.” 

Oh, well.

Twenty minutes later, the Owl Lady’s weird bird-worm security creature bursts through the window and sings good morning loud enough to shatter eardrums. Hunter grabs his staff, throws a blast at the thing on instinct, teleports to the kitchen in a panic, and smacks the Owl Lady in the face with his palisman first thing in the morning.

.

The easy explanation is this: the castle falls and Belos dies and the Golden Guard somehow survives it all: portal collapse and half-realm merge and everything, which means when the dust settles, ultimately Hunter is left with absolutely no idea of what to do with himself. 

“You should work with Eda!” says the human, in the aftermath. Given she says this in the ruin of what was once the Emperor’s castle, barely a half hour after—everything—Hunter feels pretty justified in his response. Which is to say he strangles his broken mechanical staff in his hands, takes a deep breath, and says in a very tight voice: “No.”

“But—!”

“No. No, no, no. I can’t even believe I did this, I don’t… it’s not happening. No.”

The human—he does actually know her name by now, after all they’ve been through, but also given all of This Nonsense she has lost name privileges—does not take that well. Of course she doesn’t. She’s so fourteen it makes Hunter want to die inside.  

“Why not?” the human says, petulant. She has her hands on her hips and everything. 

Hunter is kneeling in the rubble of a castle he’s called home for almost all his life. Somewhere down there is the throne where Belos used to sit; somewhere down there is a body. It’s not a surprise, really. It’s not a shock. From the moment the palisman fluttered into his life and Hunter let it stay, he always knew, deep down, that one day he was going to have to choose. 

It does not make breathing any easier. “I don’t want to,” he says. 

“You can learn wild magic! And, and glyphs! Eda knows a lot—”

“Does the Owl Lady know you’re offering up her house to an old enemy?” 

“Eda won’t mind. Well, okay, maybe she’ll mind a little, but— she’ll let you stay if I ask her!” Yeah. The Owl Lady probably would. The human has that witch wrapped around her little finger; Hunter almost snorts. “Please, just hear me out. I’m sure we can—”

“No.”

“Hunter…”

“Don’t talk like we’re friends,” Hunter hisses. He drops the broken remains of the mechanical staff and stands, his hands curled to fists. “Don’t talk like you know me. You don’t know anything. You don’t—” He can’t breathe. He drops back to his knees in the rubble and rubs a hand over his eyes. “Just stop. Please.”

The human doesn’t say anything for a long time. On his shoulder, the palisman, thus far staying silent, flutters its wings and hops down to his knee, nudging his hand with its beak. It sings nothing. Just stays there.

After a moment, the human kneels next to him. There is blood on her face and dirt staining her leggings. “I know,” she says, and she suddenly sounds very tired. “I’m sorry.” 

Hunter doesn’t say anything.

“I just—” the human starts, and then she stops. “I don’t know how else to help you.”

She looks small and weirdly sad, which makes no sense at all, because she hated Belos and never really understood why Hunter did not. (Hunter is not sure why either. If that is still something he can say. If you can betray your uncle and fight against your uncle and—and— and do these things, do everything Hunter has done, and still say that this feeling isn’t hatred.)

They aren’t friends, Hunter and the human. They have barely been allies. He doesn’t need her help, and she probably knows that as well as he does. But Hunter looks at her then, and despite the rubble and the ash and the blood on his tongue, for some reason instead of digging himself a makeshift grave he says—

“…Okay.”

Which still doesn’t really explain anything, but then, that’s just how it goes.

.

“Okay!” says the Owl Lady, smacking down her second cup of apple blood on the table. She does it too hard—a good splash of blood escapes the confines of the cup and adds yet another stain to her already-stained dining table. Hunter raises an eyebrow. The Owl Lady glares back. “House rules.”

There’s a red mark on her cheek, still, from where Hunter had hit her with his staff, and a stain all down her side from when, upon being hit with the staff, the Owl Lady spluttered and cursed and accidentally spilt the first cup of apple blood all over herself and the floor. She looks… barely awake. 

“House rules,” Hunter echoes, dryly.

“Your scorn is noted and not appreciated.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” His palisman pecks his hand lightly. “Ow.”

“Luz, you owe me one,” mutters the Owl Lady, and takes a really deep drink of her apple blood. Hunter rubs at his hand, peeved, and eyes the palisman in case it gets any more hand-pecking ideas. The palisman blinks innocently back. Hmm.

“So. First of all.” The Owl Lady raises a finger. “Break any of my stuff and I end you.”

So just like the castle, then. Hunter sees where this is going. He settles gingerly back against the chair—why, why is all of her furniture stained—and rests his cheek against one fist, already bored. “Noted.”

The Owl Lady puts up a second finger. There’s a long silence.

“…Seriously?” says Hunter.

“Quiet, you.” She snaps her fingers. “Hah! Got one! Hurt King or Luz or Hooty or anyone I like in any way and I’ll destroy you. Yeah, that works.”

Hunter gets the sneaking suspicion these house rules are being made up on the spot, and are also only for him. He knows better than to say that aloud. “Fine.” Wait. “How am I supposed to know which random people you like or dislike?”

The Owl Lady grins. Her gold fang glints. “That sounds like a you problem, don’t you think?” She cackles a little. “Guess you’ll just have to find out! Or, you know. Maybe don’t attack anyone? That’s a start.” 

Her owl palisman coos a little. Her nose wrinkles. “What? What do you mean that’s hypocritical? Stay out of this, Owlbert, I’m teaching life lessons or something.” Her eyes turn to him. “Anyway. You get the gist.”

Hunter’s hand is curled white-knuckled around his knee. His palisman flutters from the table to his shoulder, singing nonsense again. Red tulips, so tasty. Its feathers brush against his cheek. 

He pries his grip off his knee one finger at a time. “…Understood.”

“Good.” The Owl Lady stands and stretches, yawning wide into one hand. “Anyway, I’ll give you a pass for this morning, because Hooty can be…” She trails off. Outside, muffled by the front door, the bird-worm creature shouts “HOOT” at full volume and then smacks into a tree.

“…a lot,” decides the Owl Lady. “But seriously, keep the windows locked. I don’t want you trying to blast him and burning my house down. I just got it back.”

Hunter says nothing. The Owl Lady squints at him and then picks her mug back up. “Riiiight… well, good talk, I guess. Get some more sleep, kid, you look worse than Luz after an all-nighter.” She waits. Hunter raises an eyebrow at her. “Ugh. I don’t know why I agreed to this.”

At least Hunter isn’t the only one second-guessing everything. Still, that reminds him. “The human.”

“Luz,” says the Owl Lady, unimpressed. 

“Yeah, whatever.” He links his fingers. The palisman flies down from his shoulder to his cupped hands, and hops a determined circle in his palm for no apparent reason. Hunter watches it play. “…Is she coming back?”

“What, tired of our company already?” 

“Yes,” Hunter says, because obviously.

“Rude. Well, can’t say the feeling isn’t mutual.” There’s a long silence. The Owl Lady sighs. “Luz… she promised she’d come back. You were there, weren’t you?”

Yeah, he had been. Standing in the back of the group, on the fringes of the goodbye. Two hours after the end, and the human had already roped the Owl Lady into letting Hunter live in her stupid owl house, and also somehow run around hugging pretty much everyone. And then she’d stepped through the mirrors that were all that remained of the realm-merge between her world and theirs, and not come back since. 

She had, indeed, promised to return. But that was hours ago; that was yesterday. The mirrors are gone and no doors remain. And Hunter does not put much faith in promises. 

“And when,” he asks the Owl Lady, a little lofty, a little snide. “When, exactly, do you think she’s coming back?”

The Owl Lady’s eyes narrow. Her lips press thin. For a moment he thinks she might snap at him, but then her shoulders slump, and in the end she just looks away.

“I don’t know,” the Owl Lady admits. 

Useless, Hunter thinks. But he doesn’t say it. Just nods and turns away to head back upstairs and make that stupid dusty storage room somewhat presentable, because if he’s going to be staying here for—for—for whatever amount of time he ends up staying here, he’s going to breathe actual air instead of dust, thanks.

“Remember, kid! House rules!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hunter says, and teleports back up the stairs without a single glance back.

.

Hunter manages to shove all the junk into one corner and make the start of a fairly presentable bed in the other corner by the time the human re-arrives in the Boiling Isles and throws open his door hard enough to smack it against the wall.

“You took my advice!” shouts the human, at the top of her lungs.

“Hiiiiii,” says Hunter, hands over his ears. The human takes a deep breath. Hunter closes the door in her face. “Byeeee.”

“Hey!”

“Why are you yelling.”

“I can’t believe you’re here!”

It’s just nonsensical enough to get him to open the door. Why does this always happen to him? Why is the human like this? “You said I should come here! You said—”

“Psh,” says the human and flaps a hand in his face. Hunter stops mid-word, gritting his teeth, practically feeling his whole face turn bright red with rage. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way! I just— I didn’t think you would actually listen! But you’re here!” She’s beaming. Hunter looks away. Her smile fades. “…Are you okay?”

He can’t sleep. His eyes are hot and burning like he wants to cry and he has no idea why. His uncle is dead. 

“No,” he tells her. “No one in this house dusts. I’ve forgotten what air tastes like.”

“Psh-haw! I’m sure it's not that…” The human steps inside, inhales, and chokes. “Oh. Ay Dios mío. Wow, this room has not been dusted.”

“I noticed!”

“Oh, man.” She hides her nose in her elbow and sidles outside again. She’s wearing her weird human clothes and her palisman staff strapped to her back. She looks tired, and a little like she has no idea what she’s doing here either. She lingers in the door almost awkwardly, rolling back and forth from her heels to her toes. 

Hunter watches her for a long moment. “You came back.”

“Haha. What gave it away?” But the smile she gives is small and blinding, brighter than the sun. “Watch this.”

“Watch wha—” The human lifts her hand and trails it through the air, dragging her fingers down in a straight line. Golden light follows her fingers. It breaks the air like a fractured mirror, a rift sparking to life in the hallway, the dark greens and blues of a galaxy intertwined with a burning glow. Hunter’s voice dies in his throat. 

“If I push at it, it opens. Like a door. It leads me right home.” She’s smiling so wide it must hurt. The portal almost seems to whisper; the golden glow of the rift shines in her eyes and catches on her face, still tear-streaked. The human’s cried over this. She’s right to. The human world and the Boiling Isles—she has found a way to keep both.

Presumably he thinks he should be jealous. Instead he finds himself smiling too. “I’m glad,” Hunter tells her. “That’s… pretty cool.”

“Right!?” She bounces on her heels and waves a hand through the rift, dismissing it into nothing. “I can’t wait to show Amity. And Eda. And King. And you! The human world is—it’s amazing. The rain doesn’t kill you even a little bit!”

It takes sudden effort to keep up the smile. “…I’ve heard.” 

“Anyway, I just came by to say hi. Eda said you were here, and—” She stops, visibly hesitating. Her head lowers. “I know… I know this must be hard. And that we aren’t really friends. But… if you need anyone to talk to… I’m here.” She peeks up her head a little, grinning. “After all, we’re house buddies now!”

“Human,” Hunter says. Her nose wrinkles. He sighs. “Luz.”

“Yeah?” 

There’s so much he could say that for a moment he has no idea where to start. Why did you think this was a good idea. Please stop talking. Why are you so insistent that we could be friends. I didn’t say I was staying here for long. I’m very tired. You’re bizarrely forgiving. My uncle is dead because of you. 

“…Thanks,” he says. “And— I’m sorry.”

Luz blinks at him. Then she grins. “Noooo problem, ol’ buddy ol’ pal!”

Hunter shoves her stupid smiling face away and closes the door on her toes. Luz yelps and swears and kicks at the door, and yells rude things in that other human language of hers. “Byeeeee,” Hunter says, and behind the closed door, Luz makes a muffled noise of rage and shouts, “Would you stop saying that!?”

And it doesn’t make things better but it doesn’t make things any worse, either, and when Hunter turns away he is almost smiling—so maybe it’s okay. 

.

The sun sets. The dusty room has been aired out to its best ability, and Hunter has made a somewhat functional and comfy-looking bed in the corner. A sticky note with the boiling sea + ice = human rain idea has been ceremoniously pinned to the empty wall space. In addition to the sticky notes, Luz has donated his “sad, bad boy room” what looks to be a dying houseplant. Hunter suspects she gave it to him purely because she has despaired of trying to keep it alive herself.  

He puts the plant on the windowsill. The palisman apparently loves it. Maybe he should find red tulips for it to eat. Whatever a red tulip is.

He settles next to the palisman on the windowsill, and strokes its head with his finger. He feels strangled and small and the sunset looks alien to him. Everything has changed. Everything is over. He is a powerless witch with a wild magic staff, and he will never be the Golden Guard again.

His eyes burn. He blinks fast. Far down below, he can hear the Owl Lady and Luz arguing over dinner.

“I still don’t know what I’m doing here,” Hunter tells the palisman. The sunset makes all the trees look shadow-like and sharp, outlined in red. It reminds him of his palisman, a little bit. “I don’t even like these people. What do you think? Is it too late to head back and dig myself a grave in the rubble?”

I’m happy I know you, chirps the palisman. It hops from the dying houseplant to the top of his head.  I love you, I love you.

His throat feels tight. “…That still isn’t a real answer.”

I want apple blood for breakfast tomorrow. The palisman nibbles at his hair. It looks tasty.

He’s quiet for a long moment. Then he closes his eyes. “Okay. If— if you say so.” 

The sun is setting, and the light is warm on his face. The Boiling Isles feels, for once, almost something like peaceful. It probably won’t last.

“We’ll stay.” 

[sweetcathedral]

🖤Hero Academia — Aizawa🖤

Note: I thought I’d post an old work here. Also, b/c I’m seeing a lot of minors migrate to ao3, I’m thinking of switching all my works to here since it’s easier to monitor, which means I’m deleting my ao3.

⚠️: bulge, breeding, somnophilia, cnc

He’s late. Just as you thought, but that’s expected of Pro Heroes and you can’t blame him for being one. You knowingly accepted your common law conditions, so you can’t complain. You reached for your phone hoping to see his name tangled within the notifications.

NekoZawa: late

Was the only message that caught your attention with a little bit of disappointment. Deep down you already knew it’d come to this, but you still can’t help feeling let down a bit. As you were about to change out of your getup a series of sharp knocks startled you, catching you off guard.

“It’s mee!” shouted the familiar voice.

Midnight?!

You rushed to open the door.

“Kayama? You’re ba—,”

“Ahhhh! So cute, so delicate, just youth!” she huffed in excitement at the sight of your longline lace bra and single-ruffled panties.

“Ah! Wai—youth? You know we're not that far in age,” you said, as you try to hide behind the door.

“Please, I'd kill to be 5 years younger, and don’t even try hiding from me. Even though he doesn’t care much about looks this definitely falls within his tastes,”

You blushed at the compliment, wishing it had come out of Aizawa’s mouth instead.

“Anyways,” she continued, “how about some bubble tea? I got your favourite,” she whipped out a bag of drinks from behind her. You wonder if she knew of your plans and came to cheer you up.

Who am I kidding, she’s an R-rated hero. Her sixth sense is basically her sex sense.

“Yeah, I could use some company,” you smiled in relief, thankful for her sharp intuition.

Before you knew it, 9PM became 11PM in what felt like 30 minutes and that heavy feeling weighing on your chest left after a couple of laughs here and there. You couldn’t help but feel better in the presence of Kayama, you have no choice but to feel better in her presence.

“And after I showed his class a pic of you, that grape idiot said ‘ if that raggedy ass man of a sensei is able to snatch a woman like that then there’s still hope for me, right?! Right?!’ in that stupid lisp of his! I couldn’t help, but cackle in his face! Hahahahahahahaha!”

“Grape idiot?!,” you laughed, almost choking on your tapioca.

“It caused this huge uproar which took Aizawa an hour to settle down,”

“Sounds like an exaggeration to me,”

“Really? Then I’d have to ask Principal Nezu for permission to let you visit. Hmmm, maybe a surprise visit during his birthday, I’d get to see that purple shit bleed from his eyes again. Hah!” she said, her sadistic side twinkling in her eyes.

You could tell she wasn’t lying about the surprise visit as she hummed her thoughts between sips of beer. Although you know how much Aizawa likes to keep his private life separate from his professional life, your thoughts couldn’t help but ponder in curiosity at how he acts around his infamous class 1-A students. All he ever does is complain about them every time you ask, but just thinking about him acting like the strict teacher Kayama says he is . . . makes . . . you . . .

“Oi, oooii . . . I said OI!”

“Gah!”

“What the hell’s got you blushing like a dazed mess?”

“Blushing? . . . !”

You clasp your hands over your face, as if you’re trying to keep your thoughts and daydreams from escaping. You let your imagination run wild just from thinking about Aizawa as a teacher — his strict demeanour and cold eyes piercing through you . . . his deep growls muffled at the base of your neck as his grip tightens around your waist and hair . . .

“Oh! What time is it?” Kayama exclaimed, disrupting your thoughts.

You reach for your phone to check the time, seeing 11:17PM illuminating from the screen before flipping it to Kayama.

“Perfect!”

You cock your head to the side trying to think of what could make Kayama that excited, but before you could react, her quirk had already taken hold of your consciousness.

Aizawa let out a heavy sigh staring at the time on his phone. It wasn’t the first time he’d let you down like that, even though it’s out of his control he still can’t help feeling disappointed in himself. Pro Heroes always have unpredictable schedules, but still, he’d wish his schedule had gone his way today.

“Thanks as always, Eraserhead. I’ll send the details your way once we’ve confirmed the date,” Tsukauchi reassured, dismissing him for the day. Aizawa nodded in response, finally, he thought. As he walked out of the station, his phone vibrated.

Ugh, what now?

He reached for his phone and unlocked his screen.

Kayama? Probably just more cat pics.

But much to his surprise, the series of pics caused him to stop in his tracks.

Kayama: Bon appétit! *kissy face*

Was the only message that followed at the end of the series of pics. After Kayama used her quirk to put you to sleep, she happily cleaned the place up and settled you prettily onto the bed in an innocent, but also, somewhat tempting position. Who could blame her? She had a knack for setting up tempting situations for her best friends. Aizawa tapped on each pic, examining the details of your delicate lace bra and fluttery panties. He really wished his schedule had gone his way today. The longer he stared at each pic, the bigger his temptation and pent up emotions grew — frustration, doubt, confusion, jealousy, anger, greed, love, lust, it was causing him to lose all sense of logic. You were causing him to lose all sense of logic and he hated it. It’s his first time experiencing something like this, he’d never romantically loved anyone until you came into his life. At first you were just like any other Pro Hero he teamed up with in previous missions, but the mission you two took on escalated into an emotional high profile case, which caused him to spend more time with you. One thing led to another and now, you’re each other’s common-law spouse. Both of you could care less about the huge wedding traditions of planning a wedding day, banquet halls, invitations and all that, but unexpectedly, he did buy you a wedding ring — a customized designer ring at that. Not only does he not care about appearances, but he also doesn’t seem to care about prices, so long as it serves its purpose.

“Uh, Eraserhead? Everything okay?” Officer Sansa tapped on Aizawa’s shoulder, breaking him from his thoughts.

“Huh? Oh, Detective Tsukauchi already settled on a date already?” Aizawa quickly locked his phone and tucked it back into his pocket.

“Um, no, he was actually worried about you . . . you’ve been standing still here for a while now, just staring at your phone . . .”

The logical Pro Hero himself didn’t even realize that he stopped walking and was surprised to see the station still behind him. Tch .

“. . . yeah, I think I should head home now. Someone’s waiting for me. Thanks, Officer Sansa.”

He waved at the cat officer before tucking his hand back into his pocket, unconsciously digging his fingernails into the palms of his hands in frustration. He hated this feeling . . . and he can’t wait to take it out on you .

Aizawa hesitates to open the door, unsure of how he’d react when he sees you for himself. He carefully turns the knob, making sure not to make a noise that’ll wake you from your peaceful slumber. You were just like the pics Kayama sent him — back exposed with the soft glow of the city night lights highlighting your dainty shoulder blades . . . arms clutching the pillow from underneath that pretty little head of yours . . . one leg hitched up to the side while the other was elongated and tucked half way into the sheets . . . As he reached to caress your face, he noticed his hand trembling from suppressing his temptation. Tch. He pulls his hand back in frustration.

“ . . . mmph . . . Shou . . . ta . . .” you murmured in your sleep in between heated breaths.

That was enough for Aizawa to let go of any sense of logic and common sense he had left, and before he knew it, he was hovering over you — the weight of his body sinking into the duvet. His eyes trailing over your features, watching your chest rise and fall with every breath you take — a reassuring feeling that you’re real and very much alive to him. He annoyingly hears his name from the teachers at UA all the time, but when it whispers out from between those pretty lips of yours, it made him experience a feeling he wasn’t used to controlling. He gave in, leaving trails of kisses that slowly turned into hickeys and then bite marks. He felt bad for leaving those marks on your supple skin, but he also wished they were permanent, as if the wedding ring doesn't speak for itself anymore. Aizawa’s grip tightened on your thigh at the thought of anyone else touching you, pinning your leg to your chest. His rough hand traces down your curves before slipping them in between your thighs — a wet sopping mess.

Ah, her panties are ruined . . . shame, he thought as he ripped a slit open, big enough for what you’re about to take in. Whoops . . . I’ll just get her a new one.

The temperature of your body was rising as he continued to press up against you, leaving marks on your collarbone and teasing your insides with his thick calloused fingers. A wave of pleasure ripples through your moonlight kissed skin, slowly pulling you back to your senses. You bat your eyes a few times to shake off the heaviness weighing on your eyelids.

“ . . . Shou—haa . . . !” your body twitched as another wave of pleasure came over you, shaking off your sleepy numbness, awakening your sense of touch as you grip his forearm trying to get him to slow down. It was no use given how enamoured he was with your reaction, your measly grip is as light as a feather against his strength.

“Haa . . . wait . . . slowdow—mmph!,”

Aizawa places his hand over your mouth, silencing your relentless begging. You finally noticed his flushed face and entranced eyes — a face you’re not used to seeing.

“Shut up, if you know what’s good for you,” his deep voice reverberated in your ear, sending a ripple of shivers down your neck. He was a completely different person in a completely different headspace. The only thing that can bring him back to his senses is your safe word, but you know that if you give in he’d completely stop and resist touching you for days as penance for losing control. But . . . you love it when he loses control along with his sense of logic, so you melt into your favourite position, signaling him to release all his pent up emotions in you — a mating press. You bite your trembling lower lip, begging with your wet eyes as a smirk played across his face. He gently kisses your forehead before pulling down his bottoms, revealing his thick throbbing cock. Your cunt twitched at the sight of it, squeezing out your fluids, dripping down like honey.

“How badly do you want it?”

“. . . badly . . . Shou~ta~ . . .” you cooed.

His cock twitched at the sound of your light and airy voice, precum drips onto the sheets.

“Not yet,” he said as he began stroking his cock on your clit, making sure not to let an inch slip inside you. The sensation drives you crazy as you whimper and whine for him to fill you up inside, desperately begging with your hips. But Aizawa’s firm grip on your thighs won’t let you, and keeps you from getting what you want. You miss the feeling of being bred full . His strokes were getting faster, his panting turning into growls. Your body tensed and toes curled as the feeling came closer, letting a desperate sigh escape from your mouth.

“Already? But I’m not done with you yet,” he playfully whispers in your ear before ramming himself inside you.

“Haa!” you yelped.

Your plump walls twitch at the sudden movement, tightening itself around his cock.

“That’s my good girl,” he chuckled, cockingly.

Tears well up in your eyes as you bite back your whimpering. He grabs your hand and firmly places it on your lower abdomen,

“Do you feel me? I’m right here.”

With your hand firmly placed on your stomach, you can feel his bulge every time he strokes his cock in you. He keeps it there, so that you have no choice but to feel it until the very end — up until his cum fills you up inside. His long strokes began to shorten, each stroke getting harder than the last and unable to hold in your pants and moans. Not only can you feel the warmth fill you up, but you can also feel his cock releasing globs of his milk from the bulge protruding from your lower abdomen. Your fingers dance around it making him twitch, his bruising grip tightening around your wrist.

“Fuck,” he grunts, looking down at the mess you both made.

Your cunt was swelling at the amount of cum it’s trying to keep from spilling, gushing out every time your sticky walls twitch. Before Aizawa was about to pull out, you grab his arm,

“Wait . . . not yet,” you must’ve been pouting when those words fell off of your swollen lips cause you’ve never seen his features soften like that before. He lowers himself, feeling his weight sinking into the bed as he tenderly kisses your forehead, brushing your slick baby hairs from your face . . . the warmth of his forehead resting against yours . . . the reassuring feeling of his hand gently cupping your flushed cheeks . . . You reach for his face, thumbing the scar under his eye, diving in for a deeper kiss and wrapping your arms around him. His heart begins to beat harder as you begin to feel his cock swelling up again from inside you.

[sunflw3rs]

College AU - Second Part!

- Eita Semi (21). They don't want to take the damn pic. They don’t want to study (are being obligated by their parents). They just want to play the guitar and scream to the "Mr. Perfect Sporty Man" who is just an asshole. 70% Talent, 20% Bitch, 10% Horny.

- Hajime Iwaizumi (21). Childhood best friend of Oikawa, player of the basket team and trying to study aboard. He hates Semi (they’re so /fucking/ annoying). One of the hottest students. 40% That body, 30% Boyfriend Material, 20% Tired and 10% Yelling at whoever.

- Hana Misaki (21). An angel. Terushima's bestie and a cheerleader. She's nice until someone is an asshole with her or her friends. She can bite so be careful and don’t make her mad (Teru always makes her mad). 60% Why Am I Your Friend? 30% Sweet and 20% F U C K Y O U.

- Haruki Komi (21). He doesn’t want to be the third wheel anymore, @ someone save him. He’s with the student council. He has a Washio as roommate. 60% A smart and responsable man, 40% If he hears one more time Konoha moaning, he would kill somebody.

- Hayato Yamagata (21). Member of the HQ's swim club. The one who has to put an eye on his friend to then not cause trouble. Reon’s roommate. 50% Himbo, 40% Nah Narita doesn’t like me, he thinks I’m just his senpai okey? And 10% Dumb

- Issei Matsukawa (21). He plays the drums in Semi’s band. CEO in wears the ugliest shirts. Makki's bestie. Self Proclaimed Kunimi's guard (boyfriend). 50% Hot and horny 30% Using Surf merch but not knowing how to swim and 20% Sassy Jokes w/ Makki our man.

- Kaname Moniwa (21). Not a vampire. The debate club president. He asked to Suga to teach him how apply the eyeliner. Such a nice boy, we all must protect him. 60% Pale 20% Haha I have a boyfriend sorry and 10% Omini 🥺pls🥺 be my fake bf for 5 minutes (again).

- Kaori Suzumeda (21). She's the cheerleader leader lol. She loves fashion and has a podcast w/ Asahi where they talk about the last trends. She is bi and hides a -small- crush with Makki. 50% The best of the best friends, 20% ~Style~, 30% Omg Hana, look at him, such a dork hah 🥰.

That's all for now!!! I talk a lot about this College AU in Twitter! If you people are interested 😌

[writtenwinchester]

I See You || Who’s Billy Hargrove? - Pt 1

Masterlist | Send In Requests | Buy Me A Coffee

Warnings: slight angst if you look hard enough, fluff, loss of loved one mentioned, brothers being brothers, light swearing

Word count: 1718

Pairing: Winchester Sister, Billy x reader

Request: hi! i was wondering if you could do a sister!winchester where maybe they go to Hawkins for a case? the reader ends up meeting billy and they fall for each other?

A/N: I’ve decided to write multiple parts to this request, thank you and my apologies for taking so long. I’m desperately trying to get back into my flow of writing, and I appreciate all of you being so patient :) Enjoy!

~

“Where are we going again?” “Indiana, only three states over, so no need to worry.” “Only three? Dean, that’s like an eleven maybe twelve hour drive.” Your brother gave you a shrug, keeping his eyes on the road in front of him while Sam stayed glued to the book in his hand.

“What am I supposed to do for eleven n’ half hours? Suffer?” “Well, you could start by listening to some good ol’ tunes.” Dean grinned, turning up the volume as ‘Kashmir’ started blasting through the speakers. Rolling your eyes, you slumped back into your seat with a grumble. This was going to be a long ride.

For hours on hours, you listened to Dean yell the lyrics to Led Zeppelin, AC/DC, Aerosmith and even The Rolling Stones if you were paying attention. Thank god for Sam, who at least talked to you every now and then, desperate enough for even a game of ‘I Spy’. But when the time came around, the three of you stopped at a small motel for a break. The moment the key to the room was given to you, you sprinted outside, running towards the room number as you mumbled it to yourself on repeat. Grinning when you finally reached the door and entered, throwing yourself on the bed with a content sigh. Your older brothers laughing and rolling their eyes, “Didn’t you sleep the entire way here?” “Listen, travelling is tiring no matter what.” Dean shook his head, sitting on the other bed and opening up his laptop as Sam headed for the table. Your eyes eventually shut, preparing your body and mind for another long day tomorrow morning.

Your brothers dragged you out of bed, still half asleep in one of your old Ac/Dc shirts, as you thanked the heavens for being in the back seat of the Impala once more where you slept most of the way. Dreaming and keeping thoughts to yourself, majority of them being memories until you finally went back to sleep. By the time you woke up, you noticed the small sign of ‘Welcome To Hawkins’ “Hawkins?” “That’s right sweetheart, welcome to Hawkins.”

Although you were a hunter, your brothers pushed you towards school. Sam encouraged and helped you get A’s, and Dean sat with you during meltdowns or threatened the boy who only checked you out. They never wanted ‘this’ life for you. They wanted the best for you, even if they only knew you for the short period of time, the one phone call that brought you into their lives changed everything. And if your happiness meant out cuddling with a boy on his couch giggling to Looney Tunes at three am, then it made them happy too. Now, this meant school. Online, or offline. If they knew you were staying for more than a week, you were pushed to attend the school outside of the screen you were so used to. ‘To socialize’, as Sam would say.

“‘Hawkins High School’. Couldn’t they have named it something better?” You sighed, letting your hair down from the bun it was originally in as Dean shrugged his shoulders. “Can’t help you with a school name, princess.” “Y/n, it’s fine, just.. Try and talk to the witness, okay?” “Right..” letting out a small huff while Dean pointed a finger at you and winked, “I’m heading out now, should be back later tonight. Don’t do anything I would do.” Rolling your eyes, you went and sat down beside Sam the moment Dean closed the door. “Do I really have to attend school, again? It’s easier to just do it online you know.” Sam gently wrapped an arm around your shoulders, “I know it’s hard Y/n, but school’s the best option for you. And it’ll be much easier for you to be in school with Darcy rather than us talking to a teenage girl.” scrunching up your nose, you sighed. “Yeah, I know..”

Waking up to a pillow thrown at your face, was not something you wanted. In response, you groaned and threw one back. Only to earn a laugh; “Hah! Missed!” Coming from your oldest brother, while Sam laughed at the two of you while staying glued to his laptop. “C’mon Y/n, first day.” “First day of the hell hole, sure.” “Hey, all of us here have been to hell, and we’d all agree that we’d choose school.” Grumbling softly to yourself, you sighed “yeah, I guess..” Sam gently patted your shoulder, “Listen, if you leave now maybe you and Dean can stop for coffee.” “Woah, woah. Who said I was driving grumpy?” “Ha ha.” Sticking out your tongue as Dean mocked you in return from across the room. 

“Guys, c’mon. Dean, just drive Y/n and go get yourselves some coffee.” “Alright, let’s get going ken doll.” sighing, you grabbed your older brother by the arm and headed for the door. Groaning softly the moment you closed the door and looked up at the sky, praying that today would bring you at least some form of joy or entertainment.

The moment you entered the school, you wanted to just walk right back out. Although, that would leave you dealing with more grumbles and raised eyebrows from Dean, as he gave you a long lecture about boys, girls, dating, school life, and to not drop to the bottom of the food chain, as he says. 

“Excuse me,” Smiling softly, you sat down in front of a girl, she had her nose shoved in a book, and when she looked up to meet your gaze, she adjusted her glasses. “Yes?” “I’m sorry, I’m just kinda lost and not sure how this school works.” Mentally, you crossed your fingers. She looked like her, she acted like her description, but you could never properly know sometimes. “Oh.” The girl placed down her book, “I guess I can help, I’m Darcy.” Perfect.

Smiling softly, you reached out and shook her hand. “Y/n.” “Where you from Y/n?” “Kansas, I moved here with my brothers.” Darcy furrowed her eyebrows, “just your brothers? What about your parents?” “Mum was an alcoholic, not too sure about dad.” You weren’t entirely lying, there was at least some truth behind your words. “Oh, I’m sorry..” She frowned, shutting her book and pushing it aside, leaning into the conversation. “My parent’s aren’t together either.” “I’m sorry to hear that,” you frowned, but this conversation was getting too depressing for you already. Nodding your head towards the book, “What are you reading?” “Oh,” she glanced down, pushing the book gently towards you. “Fahrenheit four fifty-one.” “Ah, the book about books.” “So you’ve read it?” “Bits and pieces.” You mumbled, looking through the book as another figure came into view, sitting beside Darcy and wrapping their arms around her.

“Dar, I heard about Nathan the other day..” the two girls shared a glance, before hugging each other tightly as you sat silently, gently pushing the book away. “Sorry Y/n,” Darcy sent you a small, sorrowful smile, “someone close to me just passed away, I hate to drop this on you like that. Even though we just met.” “I’m so sorry to hear that,” you frowned, “I hope things get easier for you.” Her eyes welled with tears, “Thank you.” wiping her eyes, she whined, “Dammit.. I’ll be back, please stay here.” Darcy ran off with her friend following her lead, and your heart ached, understanding every emotion that she’s going through.

Science wasn’t exactly your forte. Hell, school wasn’t even your forte. Constantly sighing and grumbling, your eyes darting back and forth between the window and your notes. Desperately wanting to throw yourself out the window, away from this hell hole that you’d only been here for nearly half a day. Third period was killing you so much, that you were actually interested in the flirting going on between the boy that sat behind you and the girl that sat in front of you. But dear god, at some point both of them got annoying. You could practically feel this guy’s breath on your neck, and the girl kept leaning over your desk. Sighing softly, you glanced up with a small forced smile. “Sorry, I know you’re probably too self absorbed to understand, but some of us actually want an education. So if you could flirt with him later, that would be great.” The girl in front of you gave a scoff, narrowing her eyes and glancing you up and down. While the guy behind you, chuckled. 

Writing notes for science turned more into drawing doodles for the art show you were never going to have. But by the time the bell rang, a sigh fell from your lips. Relieved as you gathered your things and slung the bag over your shoulder, heading towards the door where a figure stood. A tooth pic resting in between his lips as he chewed on it and smirked, “Hey sweetheart.” Furrowing your eyebrows, you stared at the boy in front of you. “If this is about me telling your girlfriend to fuck off, I don’t care. I need to focus.” “Focus on your art, or science?” Raising an eyebrow, you grumbled, “listen, don’t bug me, and I won’t bug you.” moving towards the door, his large figure moved to block your exit. “What if I want to?” “Want to what?” “Bug you.” A small groan fell from your lips, “I don’t have time for this, and I don’t even know who you are, so please move.” The boy chuckled, “Billy, Hargrove.”

“How’d it go?” Dean hummed, pulling out of the school parking lot the moment you stepped into the Impala. “Fine, just get me out of here before I plan my own funeral.” Dean chuckled softly, Ac/Dc was already playing quietly, and you wanted nothing more than to just get back to the motel and sleep embrace you. “Did you find her?” Nodding your head, “Darcy, yes.” “Make any friends?” Your thoughts traveled back, to Darcy’s other friend, the girl in front of you in third period was definitely not your friend, and neither was Billy damn Hargrove.

“No.” Was all you said, as you looked back out the window and let the thoughts in the back of your mind consume you.

A/N: In all honesty this will probably turn into a mini series, but this is finally posted so I can stop hating myself for it. Next chapter should be posted sometime this week!

Feedback is great <3