Stephykooh - Stephy

I can’t stop thinking about winged reader dating hawks

Okay, let me help you with that with an image:

Reader is lying naked on Keigo's chest, the hero smiling as he strokes your hair. You're so tired, too exhausted with all that you've been put through.

Keigo, that bastard, he'd cut off your wings. After he'd caught you trying to escape, he dragged you back to his place and decided that it'd be a "good lesson" and "precaution for future" to get rid of your wings for once and for all.

He- he cut them off, using his own feather blades, which were quite sharp, but still not sharp enough for your thick wings. Which meant taking much longer to cut them off, and if you knew one thing about Keigo, it was that he wasn't a patient man.

No amount of screaming and crying stopped Keigo as he began to pull your wings from your skin with his bare hands. It was like someone was pulling the life out of you, and when you tried to flip over to escape his assault, Keigo slapped you across the face and told you to stop wriggling around, before finally sitting on your butt and continued plucking you like a chicken. Your sobs only grew louder when you felt something hard poke you down there, knowing that disgusting prick felt sick pleasure from this.

By the time he was done wounding your back and having his way with you, you'd passed out somewhere in between. When you came to, you found yourself lying on his chest and you could still feel him growing hard against your thigh.

You whimpered, both from pain and shame, and Keigo only chuckled before patting your bum, shushing you when you jumped as a finger traced your hole.

"Shhh, its okay. You're okay. You did well." He kissed the top of your head. "I've called a friend over to help me, so you better be on your best behaviour."

Help him? With what?

You heard someone knock on the bedroom door. "Come in!" Keigo said, a little too cheerfully.

You could only crane your neck to the side as you recognised the man who'd walked in. Dabi- it was that notorious villain you'd seen on TV, and heard Keigo talk fondly of.

Oh god. He's not here to fuck-

"Dabi! You're just in time!" Keigo smiled, puckering his lips as Dabi kissed him, pulling away to look at you. You cowered under his gaze.

"This her?" Dabi asked, and you could feel him judging you.

Keigo nodded. "Yeah! Ain't she pretty?"

"She's alright. Seen better. Fucked better." Dabi said. "How do you wanna do this?"

Keigo hummed. "We can start now. She's up from her nap, so well rested." And with that, Keigo tightened his limbs around you, his muscular legs trapping yours and his arms coiled a little too painfully around your shoulders.

You began hyperventilating as you felt Dabi creep up behind you, before settling himself on your thighs.

"Keigo- please- I'm sorry- I've learnt my lesson! I won't run away again! Please, don't let him rap-"

Your words died down as both men laughed. Dabi grabbed your chin, turning it to the side. He leant down to whisper "Doll, I wouldn't fuck you like this. Unlike your hero, I prefer my bitches to beg."

Keigo gasped, offended. "You thought I was gonna let him fuck you? Nuh uh! You're all for me, and well maybe if Dabi does his job well, he can have a little fun with you, but you're mine otherwise!" Keigo said before grabbing your face and kissing you sloppily. "Now stay still and let Dabi complete your punishment."

Wait what? Its not finished yet?!

You began struggling under Dabi. "What are you saying?! You've already plucked out my wings!"

"Yeah! But they'll just grow back if we don't cauterize the base!" Keigo stated in a matter of fact tone.

Cauterize? Does... does he plan on burning my tissues?!

"Wait-!" But Dabi shoved your face back into Keigo's chest, holding it there with one hand as he heated up his other.

"Quiet now, doll. You're already distracting me with your cute ass wiggling around, don't need you yapping around as I take care of your back."

And with that, Dabi put his heated hand against your right wing base, and you now knew what the phrase "white, hot, searing pain" meant.

So... I know I'm a little late but um... well... enjoy

Blame @didderd and the rest of y'all drawing Fell being hot :P

Art by @mothiepixie

This Little Thing Of Ours

Warnings/Tags:

• Omegaverse, A/B/O • College AU • Aged-Up Characters • Explicit Sexual Content • Alpha!Oikawa • Omega!Hinata • A lot of scenting and sex • Smut with plot • Multiple Chapters • More tags to be added as I update

Pairing: Oikawa x Hinata (Oihina)

Hinata’s voice is small. “…I don’t know what to do.”  It’s the defeat in his tone, that acknowledgment that he can’t win and can’t hide this on his own— It causes Oikawa’s chest to pang with sympathy.  “…” Oikawa swallows thickly, glancing at the bracelet Hinata always wears—and only now realizing those are the scent blockers that he should’ve noticed, because betas don’t need scent blockers in the first place because of how subtle their scents are—and he exhales slowly when his eyes meet Hinata’s again. “Do you trust me?” 

Or: An omegaverse, college Oihina AU where Oikawa learns that Hinata lied about being a 'beta', and what comes after can only be described as...messy. But also a lot of sex. And some feelings somewhere down the line.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

The chapters are listed down below ▼

❀ Chapter 1

❀ Chapter 2

❀ Chapter 3

❀ Chapter 4

❀ Chapter 5

❀ Chapter 6

❀ Chapter 7

❀ Chapter 8

❀ Chapter 9

❀ Chapter 10

❀ Chapter 11

❀ Chapter 12

The real question in Beyblade Burst Evolution:

What language are all of these kids speaking? You have kids from Japan, Spain, America, France, England, and basically every country in the world. All of these countries have their own languages, and these are all 11 year old children. How are they all talking to each other with no sign of any sort of language barrier? What language are they all speaking? I don’t know. I’m overthinking a kid’s show again, but it’s a legit question.

oops

I know you said you only might accept pregnancy requests depending on what it is so I wanted to try 😅 how about shigaraki and reader break up while she’s unknowingly pregnant with his child and he bumps into said child years later and connects the dots that it’s his? If you don’t like it feel free to ignore this request 😊

I liked this nonnie.

I am terrified that by saying that I’m going to be inundated with pregnancy HC’s, lol. But, this request I really leaned into. Plus, it’s more about a kid than a pregnancy. 

So, thank you for asking and letting me slip out of my comfort zone. It’s always good to do that every once in awhile and this ask was a great reminder of that.

It’s a bit melancholic, but I think it fits with Tomura, at least, in my mind.

Now, this is not in canon. This is not like, pre-war arc, or post-war arc. If anything, it’s more of an AU. I’d put Tomura in his late 20s to early 30s.  

warnings: none really, just some sweet, sweet interactions and mild angst 

Hestia Hestia, in Greek religion, is the goddess of the hearth, a daughter of Cronus and Rhea, and one of the 12 Olympian deities. When the gods Apollo and Poseidon became suitors for her hand, she swore to remain a maiden forever, and Zeus, the king of the gods, bestowed upon her the honor of presiding over all sacrifices. 

The shouting noise of children set his teeth on edge.

Toga had insisted that the bus stop by the school was the best place for the information exchange.

They won’t look for you there, she’d assured him. It’s like hiding in plain sight. Yeah, it’s patrolled, but it’s only an old security guard who does the rounds. Besides, he’s retired from the police force, she qualified, and was more like a lazy cat than an attentive scent hound.  

It’s the best place, really.

So, Shigaraki had made the long trek across Tokyo.

He kept to the shadows as he weaved his way through back alleys and streets. Although the dominance of the League had waned some over the years, he was still a wanted criminal, responsible for countless death and threats on hero society.

He was still the King of his slice of the underworld.

Besides, he reassured himself as he loitered by the bench under the bus stop, he could trust Toga.

She had improved in leaps and bounds as she came of age; deadlier, sleeker, more attuned to the ebbs and flows of the world around her. She wasn’t that girl who chattered about blood anymore.

Oh, she still held a strange fascination with the fluid. But she had more control over those impulses that drove her. If she said it was the best place, well, who was he to argue? Toga had been with him from the beginning, a vital ally. Hell, at this point she was close to being a friend.

Shigaraki is still musing when the ball taps its way to his feet.

It clatters against the pavement; the rubber shuttling it along the loose rocks and leaves. Unthinkingly, Shigaraki lifts his shoe to balance against its unbound movement, stilling its lulling bounces.

Must be from that schoolyard, he thinks, his red eyes flashing up at the low chain-link fence that separates the school grounds from the busy street.

There’s no child dashing their way to retrieve it, so he lets his gaze slip from the teeming masses of giggling youngsters. It’s a pretty blue. The ball looks new. Hardly a scuffed and battered thing.

He keeps it under his sole, toying with it, rolling it meditatively as he slips back into his thoughts.

“Hey! That’s mine!”

It’s a small voice that calls to him and he turns his head back to the fence, looking for the source.

It’s a girl.

She’s leaning against the metal, her hands clutching into the links, cocking her head inquisitively at him.

Her nose wrinkles at his silence, and she shouts another demand.

“Mister, that’s my ball. Toss it back.”

“Aren’t you supposed to say please?” Shigaraki taunts, his lips lifting in a quick grin. He’s not sure why he’s bothering to engage with this kid, but something about her plucky attitude resonates with him.

She leans away from the fence, that scowl deepening on her soft features.

“Aren’t grown ups not supposed to steal things?”

He laughs at her snark. He can’t help it. Oh, this kid’s fun.

Carefully slipping the ball into his hands, he moves closer to the fence. He can see her a little better now.

She’s still got that deep frown on her face and her dark hair is gleaming in the afternoon sun, some strands catching the light, reflecting a deep, auburn, hue. He’s just about to chuck the ball to her when he catches sight of her eyes.

They’re red.

Not that red eyes are unusual. There are plenty of people milling around Tokyo with them. But hers are different.

No, these eyes are like looking into a mirror for Shigaraki. They flint and glare with the same sheen as his own. It’s a prefect reflection.

His feet suddenly feel heavy, leaden, and he can’t lift his arms. Who is this child? Why does she-

“Ok, ok, mister. Can I please have my ball back? You’re still stealing it if you don’t, so I’m not apologizing for that. I might... if you give it back to me, cuz’ it’s my ball, not yours. And, stealing makes you a thief.”

She’s rolling those uncanny irises at his stiff form, and a huffing sigh escapes her small mouth.

“What’s your name?” Shigaraki asks, hands trembling over the rubber of the ball.

“Not supposed to tell that to strangers, mister.”

He smiles again, bemused. Well, he thinks begrudgingly, she’s a clever little thing. Whoever she is.

A sharp bell echoes across the yard and she turns her head at the sound, her dark hair tumbling around her shoulders.

“Here,” Shigaraki relents, gently flipping the ball over the fence, bouncing it to her feet.

“Thanks,” she murmurs, quickly snatching up her prize. Those red eyes of hers meet his own, and he can feel a low shiver echo up his spine. What’s up with this reaction? It almost feels visceral, like some sort of otherworldly pull on him.

“Sorry I called you a thief,” she apologizes, quickly bowing her head, ducking those eerie eyes from view.

He’s not sure what to say, so he continues to watch her. She doesn’t seem perturbed by this, opting to giggle at him as her little head lifts.

“You’re weird,” she assess, a smile finally spreading over her lips, her cheeks rounding and softening. 

Tch, she’s rude, but she’s also cute, Shigaraki thinks, snorting at her frankness.

She turns, dashing away from him, her dark hair flowing around her back as she goes.

Shigaraki shakes his head, trying to dislodge those lingering questions that keep floating to the back of his mind.

He’ll never see her again, he reasons, wandering back to the bus stop. Trying to tamp down the urge to look for her again, to pinpoint her from the other giggling and shouting children on the playground.

But he did see her again.

He comes back to the stop a few weeks later.

There’s no information pickup this time. There’s no real reason for him to even be on this side of town.

He just can’t get her out of his mind.

This little kid had shaken something within his psyche. He kept dreaming about her. Well, not her, really. No, there was someone else haunting his dreams.

He hasn’t thought about you in years.

But now? Now, he can’t get you out of his head. He even feels like he can feel you some nights, warm against his side. He sulks in the memories of the familiar touches that the two of you shared, the love that you’d pressed into him, so, so long ago.

He saw the girl in those moments. Resting in your arms as you looked up, your eyes bright against her dark head. The girl would laugh and run to him, those reflective red eyes shining with mirth. 

It was fucking strange.

He both hated, and loved, the repetitive nature of these illusions. They made him feel safe and warm, but they also chilled him to his very bones. It was unsettling.

Unsure what else to do, he’d back come to the bus stop.

It’s early afternoon. Close to the time he’d visited it before. He waits on the lonely bench, his hands pressed together and that strange tremble races through his veins.

This is stupid, he thinks, his eyes lowering from the sea of kids, all twisting and turning in a heap as they play. It’s an impossibility, really. The chances of that girl losing her ball again is minuscule. There’s no way he can call to her either. It’s a waste. He shouldn’t even be here.

He’s standing to leave, when that small voice reaches him.

“Oh! You’re back.”

His head whips around, his long white hair glowing against the sunlight.

There she is.

She’s gripping the fence again, and she’s staring right at him.

Shigaraki smiles. It’s a gentle lift and he can feel his heart tapping a rough tattoo against his ribs. He steps toward her, kneeling when he gets close, careful to not overstep his bounds.

He’s not wanting to startle her.

No, he’s wanting to talk with her. Maybe she’ll drop some kinda clue why he’s so drawn to her. Or maybe she’ll morph into any other child again. Plain, uninteresting. Slipping from that odd ghost that she’s become to his subconscious. 

He hopes it’s the latter. But part of him also longs for it to be the former.

She’ll hop to the fence around 3:15.

She looks for him now, used to the routine of his presence.

He told her to call him Tomura, and the name falling from her lips made his heart ache.

Tomura stopped by on Fridays. Careful to not stay too long, to not draw too much attention to himself.

At first, he’d sneak her little trinkets. 

A little plastic toy of his, one that he had since he was a kid. She’d squealed with delight and clutched it to her. He’d grinned at that, remembering how he’d once held onto the thick plastic himself. 

Once, he’d just plucked a nearby flower as he walked to the school, presenting it to her outreached grasp. He’d watched proudly as she tucked it behind her ear, the color glossy beside her hair.

She’s still a sassy little thing. But she’s softened a little, too. Her voice losing that early, untrusting, edge.

He didn’t ask her much. Sometimes they both just sat in silence as she sketched designs into the dirt. Sometimes he would listen to her chatter about her day. Her classmates, her teacher. Once, she’d even pressed something over the fence to him.

It was a drawing.

He’s not sure if it really was all that well done, or if it’s just his heavy bias toward her. But he loves the mix of color and lines. He’d asked who the people were.

One was her friend, Kenji. One was her teacher. One was him.

He’d pinned it to the wall in his room. Displaying it, flaunting the gift. He looked at it every morning, admiring her work.

He’s late one day, and she scolds him, her small arms draping over the fence.

“I didn’t think you were going to come,” she chatters, her red eyes lingering against his, the two colors casting back the same hue.

“Was running behind,” Tomura replies, leaning against the low concrete barrier, resting his back against the fence.

Her little hands reach for his hair, playing with the pearlescent tendrils, weaving some into knots and braids. 

He doesn’t mind.

“Hey, Tomura,” she says, working a tiny hairband into her creation, her voice curious.

“Hmm,” he hums, careful to not shift his head, not wanting to disrupt her hard work.

“You didn’t ask my name again. At least… not after that one day.”

“Do you want me to ask?” He queries, his pulse lifting.

He’d wanted to ask her again, but he didn’t want to startle her, to shatter these innocences that they shared.

“It’s Beryl,” she answers. She says it confidently, and he turns to face her.

She grins at him, wiggling one loose tooth playfully at his serious expression, trying to tug a laugh from him.

“Beryl?” he repeats, unable to keep that awed hush from his raspy tones. It’s a pretty name. It suits her, really. But it’s strange. It’s not Japanese. 

You hadn’t been Japanese. 

“That’s a good name,” he assures her. “But, it’s not… you don’t hear that name very often.”

“Yeah,” Beryl concedes, her vermillion eyes roving over his face. “My mom’s not from here.”

His nostrils flare at that.

He hasn’t asked her about her mother. He’s unsure if it’s a general disinterest on his part, or trepidation. He fears it’s the latter.

Gulping, he tilts his head at her, feeling that soft braid she’s plaited into his hair shifting.

“Who’s your mother?”

“Who is she? She’s my mom, silly.”

“No,” he pauses, ignoring that creeping tremor that’s working its way to the top of his skull, his skin prickling and cooling. “I mean…what’s her name?”

“Oh! Her name is-”

“Beryl! Beryl, it’s time to come inside.” A teacher is calling for her. 

Tomura startles away, drifting to his feet and pacing quickly back to the bus stop. He can’t help the snarl that etches its way across his lips. He’d been so close. So fucking close…

He chances a glance back at the fence and catches sight of Beryl. She’s dashing across the playground, her dark hair waving in the sun.

Japan is about to slip into summer. School will come to a close, moving into a long break. He won’t see her again for almost a month.

His heart sinks at that realization and he grits his teeth. Slipping his hands into his dark trench coat, he steps across the street, away from the bus stop, away from the little girl that’s feeling more and more like his own.

Edit: oh hey. so, i couldn’t stfu about this and created a sequel: Materfamilias 

hahaha & part iii

Everything is in its place

Shiggy’s #1 stan

Genya’s Mistress

Pathetic men appreciator ♡

Requests closed, I’m teaching myself Chemistry this term.

23 ★ Married ★ Writer ★ Village Fool

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Yandere!Hawks x Broken!Reader

Summary: Hawks regrets breaking you.

Warnings: yandere themes, injury mentions, blood mentions, physical and emotional abuse mentions, suicidal ideation, attempt mentions, forced captivity

Word count: 1.1k

The cool glass pressed against your forehead. The nightlife never got boring from up here. The lavish apartment Keigo had kept you in was dark, dinner ice cold on the table by now. He’d warned you it was going to be late by the time he got home, but you decided to wait nonetheless.

He would’ve expected dinner at 6 anyway, late or not. The cameras still watching your every move. You had prepared dinner, as usual, the routine he’d molded you to fit, it was something Keigo credited to you becoming a perfect housewife.

You hated it.

Your previous attempt at finally being free of the cage he’d put you in still throbbed. You were—quite literally—caged in like a common parakeet. It didn’t help that he called you “dove” either. Now, you couldn’t even really breathe properly without threatening to pop the stitches in your back.

You could feel the gashes stretching as you leaned forward against your knees. Keigo’s handiwork serving as a blatant reminder that if you were going to try and fly away, you would have your wings clipped.

Not that you ever had wings in the first place, nor the ability to fly. However, diving headfirst off the balcony was enough of an 'escape' attempt for him to punish you. Two deep gashes on either side of your spine, held together by string and pain. The marks were a reminder that death as a freedom was torn away, the pain being more than you could ever handle.

You couldn’t get out of bed for two days post punishment, the bruises from the beatings adding on to your pain. Keigo made sure to smother you with kisses and care before returning to work, a reminder that his punishment was "for the best".

You didn’t want to try and escape again. Besides, a bird without wings had no reason to leave the cage, right?

Your thoughts were interrupted by a thump on the balcony. A familiar jingle of keys and a jiggle of the door handle, and suddenly he was home.

“Hey there, little dove,” Keigo chirped, discarding his gloves and jacket on the dining chair. His eyes surveyed you, then the room, “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to dinner, since it’s probably cold, do you wanna order takeout?”

You stayed quiet, he’d never offered to order anything, always insisting you should cook. Was this a trick?

When you didn’t answer, Keigo strode across the room until he was in front of you. His hand was placed firmly under your chin, yanking your jaw up to meet his gaze.

His hardened features suddenly went soft.

Keigo searched your face for any sign of defiance, any hint that you’d try to hurt him, or yourself, but there was none of that.

“Dove,” Keigo started, “I asked you a question.”

You swallowed roughly, struggling against the position he was holding you in.

“I-it’s ok, I can just remake it.” You offered, trying to push yourself up and off the windowsill.

As soon as you stood he stopped you firmly by your shoulders, still searching your face, your body. To him, something wasn’t right.

“What’s up with you?” He asked blatantly.

You froze, was this another trick question?

“I..” you started, not being able to tear your eyes away from his gaze, “I’m just hurting.”

You answered honestly, not sure if that was what he wanted to hear.

He sighed, rubbing his hands up and down your arms, making you wince.

“It’s ok if you don’t make dinner tonight, dove, we can order in Chinese food or something. A new restaurant just opened up down the street, would you like to try that place?.” He asked softly.

It was your turn to search his face for any hesitation, any sign this was a trick, but there was nothing.

You slowly leaned into his chest, searching for warmth, for any hint of love that would show you he wasn’t upset with you.

Keigo gently wrapped his arms around your waist, careful not to hurt your back any further. This softness was your answer. He placed a soft kiss on the top of your head.

In his mind, Keigo felt bad. Images of you screaming and crying under him as he used his own feathers to cut into your back, only minutes after he had laid several strikes on your entire body. He remembered your sobs for hours after your punishment. Rocking back and forth while he stitched you up and bandaged you until you cried yourself to sleep. Today marked one week since it happened.

Keigo could sense a change in your demeanor since the moment it happened. You were more submissive now. He didn't have to ask you to clean up or make dinner anymore. It was done without asking, often better than he expected.

You clung to him now, afraid of his next move.

"Dove," He started, pulling away from you, "I'm serious this time, we can order food. I know you're not feeling well."

"Keigo, it's fine-"

"Y/n." He shushed you once more. "It's ok."

You accepted defeat, realizing he wasn't going to let up.

"I'll order as soon as we clean you up." His hands slipped under your jacket, tracing over the wounds.

Taking your hands, he gently pulled you towards your shared bedroom. You were instructed to lay face down on the bed, removing your jacket to reveal the array of bandages underneath.

Keigo sent his feathers to retrieve medical supplies while he cut the old bandages off your body.

Both of you were silent as he carefully cleaned up some of the stitching and dried blood. God there was just so much it felt like you were coated in a thick layer of it. It was painful, too. Dealing with gashes that large and so many bruises had Keigo wincing at the sight of his work.

He also took into account how many times you whimpered or winced at his touch. No doubt about it, you really were in pain, so much pain. As he finished rebandaging your back, he took into account the dark bruises that had yet to show any signs of improvement. God, how hard did he hit you?

You didn't really move as Keigo put away the supplies and walked around the bed, laying on the sheets with you. He was on his side, wings hanging off the bed as you stared at each other.

You didn't even notice you were crying until he frowned at you. He pulled you into him gently, letting you cry out whatever you were feeling.

Internally, he hated himself. Keigo didn’t like this new you. There was no fire inside you anymore. He was happy to have a housewife, but not at the cost of you losing yourself.

Keigo wept silently as he held you, realizing how badly he had broken you.

He never intended it to be like this.

Onceler looks cute in his pajamas he is such a dreamy boy