Clipped Wings

Bluejay

His hands are hot as they skate over the curve of your ass. "I wouldn't have to punish you if you behaved." That deep voice rumbles through you; it shouldn't make you clench your thighs, but you can't help yourself. Endeavor has that effect on you. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

"I'm sorry, daddy," you murmur against the bed. His cock twitches at your helpless little voice.

"Hm." He spreads your cheeks, then lets them go to watch them bounce back together. "We'll see about that."

He starts spanking you.

Each slap from his large hands burns deliciously. Your daddy would never really hurt you; he loves you. This is just his way of showing that. He has to make sure his little girl is properly disciplined.

"What's this?" He's only reached ten but he stops and spreads your thighs to prod at your sticky entrance. "You little slut. Are you enjoying this?"

You struggle to close your legs, but he's so much bigger and stronger. You're helpless. You whine and squirm, pressing his hard cock against your belly. "I didn't mean to."

The fire hero laughs at your pathetic denial. "Maybe I should punish you some other way." He leans in so his hot breath tickles your ear. "How about I break you apart on my cock instead."

You moan, eyes fluttering shut, stomach clenching at the idea. He licks the curve of your ear and then grabs you and throws you in the middle of the bed. His massive body smothers you as he lines up his cock with your pussy and pushes in.

It's fitting for a man of his stature, stretching your unprepared cunt wide, but the pain is so good you can't help but moan and arch into it.

Your daddy chuckles and wraps your hair in his fist. "That's my girl."

You pull yourself from the garbage across your screen and stretch your fingers to alleviate the cramping. It's getting late. You have work tomorrow.

But you hate stopping in the middle of a smut scene. That's when you're at your best.

You yawn and glance at your clock. There's always the lunch break. You usually wind up scrolling through your phone for smut anyway.

That decided, you ensure your progress has saved properly, check your notifications one last time, and close your laptop.

As you prepare for bed, someone else is sneaking onto your account to read what you spent your night doing. He chuckles as he scrolls along, imagining how you must have squirmed in your seat as you wrote.

"Such a dirty mind." He smirks and makes sure to sign out before closing the app.

You develop a bad habit of writing during your breaks. It's not the best idea since you sometimes fluster yourself with your own smut, but the ideas flow like water lately. You don't want to waste the motivation. Besides, the smut gives you an energy boost for the end of the day.

There's just one slight little problem...

"Working on your 'secret project' again?"

You switch apps and silently pray he didn't read anything over your shoulder, then glare back at the winged hero. "It's rude to read people's phones, Hawks."

He gives you his most wholesome smile, the one that could sell swamp land to an Inuit. "Aw, c'mon. I'm just teasing you."

"I value my privacy," you retort. "And that's the third time this week."

"I didn't see nothin'."

Your eyes narrow at that. He's a casual kind of hero, but the double negative is still suspicious. "I didn't realize heroes act like little boys."

"What's that supposed to mean?" He takes up the seat beside yours, elbows up, chin propped in his hands.

"If I had my hair in pigtails, would you pull them?"

Those golden eyes gleam with unvoiced laughter. "I don't know. Maybe we should test it out."

You smother a giggle, rolling your eyes instead. He's as flirtatious and incorrigible as in his interviews. The little compliments always make you want to preen, but you know better than to take him seriously; it's just his hero persona.

"I'll keep away from things that make me look younger, thanks," you huff, pulling the bag of sunflower seeds closer.

They're your favorite snack. As soon as you finish your sandwich, you open them out to enjoy, and you gather up a handful to delicately toss in your mouth one at a time.

Hawks snatches the bag from the table to read the label. "Sunflower seeds? Seriously?"

"What?" you demand, hand on your hip.

"Next you're gonna tell me you sleep in a nest."

You give him your best raptor glare. "And if I do?"

He laughs and bats it away. "That's adorable. Is it made outta twigs and leaves, or blankets and pillows? Ow!" His mouth falls into a pout. "What was that for?"

"Finches are fighters, you know. Keep talking like that and we're gonna have to throw down." You favor him with your best smoldering glare. His insipid smile widens.

"Is that a promise, little finch?" His teeth are sharp enough to tear flesh. "Because that doesn't sound threatening to me."

Your heart flutters and only hard-won awareness prevents your wings from fluttering along with it. Hawks' avian eyes flit toward them anyway, and you worry they gave you away somehow. "I don't know," you say nonchalantly. "I'd hate to get fired for whooping the boss's ass."

"Oooo, big words for such a little bird." Hawks winks and stands up straight. "Welp, gotta fly. I'll see you later, little chickie."

You roll your eyes and give him a wave as he falls backwards out of the building. The wind stirs your hair. You grumble as you shut the sliding glass, muttering about big-headed bird brains and their show-off antics.

Before you head back to the Bluejay Room, you take a moment to check your wings. If Hawks' clear flirtation makes you preen a little, no one but you needs to know.