#Hawks better drop some good content for us | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kohakuarisaka · 2 years

Text

Subspace [chapter 8 of ?]

Takami Keigo x (fem!)Reader

[ SUMMARY ] Your dom let you drop, and Hawks picked you back up. It was an act of kindness; and yet, you couldn’t stop thinking about each other since, and what could be. Suddenly, your relationship with your boss became so deliciously improper.

[ WARNINGS ] R18+ for graphic sexual content and language. Dom!Hawks and Sub!reader. Female reader with female genitals. BDSM elements. Kink discussion. Aftercare. Consensual rough sex. Feral behavior. Wing kink and feather play. Consensual dirty talk and verbal abuse. Unprotected sex. Penis in vagina sex. Oral sex. Bondage & Shibari. Master/slave play. Biting/choking. Degradation. Vibrators & anal plugs.

Chapter 1 • Chapter 2 • Chapter 3 • Chapter 4 • Chapter 5 • Chapter 6 • Chapter 7 • future chapters coming soon~

Links: [ My BNHA Fanfic Masterlist on Tumblr ] ~ [ Also on my AO3 ]

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Hawks didn't stop by the office the following week, or the week after that. Normally, you would have assumed he was coming in late after everyone had already left; but, in this case, you knew he hadn't because the pile of paperwork on his desk was undisturbed and ever growing.

Even when he was taking missions back to back, he still found time to stop by the office, at least briefly enough to acknowledge pressing matters. He hadn't answered any emails and none of the sidekicks had seen him recently, either.

You knew the Hero Commission was still in touch with him because none of the board members came around to demand information, as they enjoyed doing when he was in-between missions. So, at the least, you knew Hawks wasn't missing in action.

Monday on week three rolled by, and you tried not to let it be a distraction to your ever growing list of things to worry about. Hawks was a busy and well sought after hero, after all. Worrying about him wouldn't do anyone any good.

Thursday night, you stayed late to cover a damage dispute with a construction company, an accidental building collapse caused by one of the sidekicks. Of course the business was mad; but, no one was hurt, and that was what mattered most to you. Paperwork was easier and no lawyers needed to be involved.

You were focused on your monitor, and didn't turn your head when the elevatored dinged. Either way, you wouldn't have thought anything of it. Hawks didn't use the front door or take the elevator. He didn't need to when he could fly in through the window in his office.

Whoever they were, their footsteps stopped near your desk. You turned your head, expecting to wave off a sidekick, and was met with Hawks' handsome face.

He was wearing civilian clothes, aviator sunglasses propped up on his forehead and a heavy black jacket over a grey T-shirt. A prominent tan line was etched over his face, a pale outline where his visor usually rested. His chin hairs were neatly trimmed and he had a dark bruise healing on his jaw. You couldn't see his wings over his shoulders.

"Hawks-"

"Hey-"

You greeted each other in unison.

"Uhm-" you stammered.

"Mountain of paperwork. I know," he proclaimed, stepping past your desk and waving at you over his shoulder.

You stood up in a haste to watch him retreat, mainly to get a better look at him. You could just barely see some feathers peaking through the large folds in the back of his jacket.

He had exhausted his feathers enough that he was grounded. It wouldn't be the first time, nor the last; but, it was still a startling sight.

You sighed heavily and plopped back down in your desk, figuring you should focus on the reason you were staying late.

Maybe thirty minutes passed, and you had just completed the damaged property report, when you noticed an email from Hawks asking you to come into his office to verify a document, from just a couple minutes ago.

With haste, you smoothed out your skirt and trotted into his office. The door was open when you walked in, so you left it that way. Hawks was hunched over his desk, about halfway through the paperwork you had left for him.

As you stepped in, he eyed your skirt with a raised brow.

"Oh. There was a meeting today. I wanted to look nice for the lawyers," you answered his curiosity, the slight edge in your tone suggesting you weren't particularly proud of it.

"Shit. Should I have been here?" he asked hoarsely.

"No. I handled it."

"That's not what I meant," he protested softly.

You frowned at him, realizing he interpreted that as you suggesting he was doubting your abilities.

"I know you didn't," you answered, softening your tone. "I just mean - you don't need to worry about those things. That's what I'm here for. I also made sure all the reports got to the commissioner and all the insurance claims were filed. Other than those, it wasn't too bad while you were away."

"Thank you," Hawks sighed, sincere, and clearly tired.

"You should head home. Worry about this tomorrow?" you suggested softly, standing close to his desk.

Hawks swiveled his chair a little to look at you more directly.

"I could tell you the same thing," he laughed.

"I didn't just get back from saving people," you retorted gently.

Hawks' smile melted into a frown, leading you to wonder if the mission had gone poorly. He was really good at villain takedowns, and probably did that as often as he handled search and rescues. Only Almight and Endeavor topped his arrests, as expected.

Still, you knew that Hawks didn't like openly discussing that, not with you, anyway. It didn't seem that he was ashamed of it, more that he just didn't want you involved in that side of heroism, at least not anymore than you already were.

Your quirk wasn't suited for this sort of thing, and you had a business major. It was really just a fluke, or lucky coincidence, that you ended up with this opportunity to begin with. Your small legal background might have helped; but, really, you had no proper experience to justify this position in the hero field.

"Is there... actually a document you need me to verify?" you asked carefully.

"No," he answered immediately in a low whisper. "I wanted to check in on you and... ask you about tomorrow."

If the bruise on his face and lack of feathers was anything to go by, Hawks was likely recovering from an injury. You wanted to press him about it, tell him to take it easy and heal. But, Hawks didn't do rest, or slow down, and you doubted he would even listen.

"I know it's sudden," he continued at your long silence, a reassuring smile surfacing. "You can turn me down."

"I'm just worried that you're injured," you huffed.

"Heh," Hawks laughed out a dry sigh. "I have stitches on my side," he explained, gesturing with his left hand at the bend of his torso. "Other than that, didn't hurt anything too bad. Maybe my dignity. I kind'a fell."

He laughed at the horrified expression you made.

"What - how far?" you wheezed.

"Not that bad! Overused my feathers in a tight space, lost my balance - ugh, two or three floors, I think?"

"Hawks!" you screeched in shock.

He had fallen two or three floors and was not only walking around, but asking for a bootycall. Clearly, the look on your face conveyed your emotions perfectly, for Hawks laughed a bit more as if there was nothing alarming about it.

His office was positioned in a way that resulted in very little foot traffic, and it was fairly late; but, he was still mindful of the doorway, glancing past you every so often.

"I've been worse," he continued softly.

You had seen him worst, honestly; but, you were bringing him paperwork and lunch that time, not your body for activities.

You were pouting and Hawks was smiling, like he knew you were going to surrender. He was right, of course, but still. He didn't have to look so smug about it.

"Don't worry about me," he uttered.

"Too late," you sighed.

Your eyes trailed away, but not before you saw the smile disappear off his face. That likely was the wrong thing to say, and you feared you had made uncomfortable. However, instead of reeling back, Hawks rose from his chair and reached for you.

"Sorry," he replied hoarsely, distant.

It was vague. But, you knew what he meant: sorry for being gone, sorry for making you worry. There was only so much that could be said. Hawks was a hero, after all; it would inevitably happen again, and again.

Besides, you were his assistant. It would be unprofessional to worry too much.

Speaking of unprofessional, his hands slid down the length of your arms. For a second, you thought he was going to take your hands; but, he seemed to remember where he was, and stopped, letting his arms drop to his sides. You resisted the urge to reach back, and hoped your face didn't display too much disappointment.

"You're not obligated. Really," he explained softly. "But, I promise, I'm alright."

Your eyes returned to his face and took in the sincere expression there. His gaze was unwavering, gold eyes trying to figure out what you were thinking.

Hawks didn't look desperate; but, he looked wanting. He looked lonely. It gave you relief for the way you had felt all week, awaiting his return with bated breath. It was stupid, but you tried not to focus on that.

Shaking your head, you replied quietly, "that's not it. I just don't want you to get hurt."

"I think I could take you," Hawks teased, nudging your chin with his knuckles.

You smiled, feeling heat wash over your face. He was far more patient and considerate than doms you had in the past; it was easy to forget how easily he could overpower you if he wanted to. But, even when the scene called for it, you were never truly afraid.

Rather, you wanted to push the limits, to push his buttons, and learn the consequences.

"That was - well, I wanted to-" you babbled on, pausing to sigh, "-talk to you about - could we-"

"Anything you want," he interrupted softly, smiling sweetly.

"Let me finish," you huffed. "What if it's too much?"

Hawks huffed out a brief laugh. "I doubt that."

It probably wasn't intentional. But, his voice dropped, just enough to prickle your skin with goosebumps. The confidence alone had your breath catching in your throat. It was a good reminder that you really didn't know everything about him, not as a dom, or a man for that matter.

It made you more eager to share with him.

"You promised a punishment a few months ago," you uttered, pausing to push some hair out of your face.

You shifted your gaze away from Hawks, but could still feel his piercing, gold eyes staring at you.

"I wanted to know what that would be like. If you're alright with that?"

Hawks exhaled heavily, like a rumble through his chest. His wings were reduced to a tiny bundle on his back and he only had a few inches of height on you; yet, just standing there, he still felt so large, or maybe he just made you feel so small.

"You want me to punish you?" he asked, leaning in to whisper the words in the small space between you.

It was easy to melt in that tone; but, you tried to keep your wits about you, not wanting to give him the upper hand just yet.

"I thought you said... -that you wouldn't tolerate bad behavior anymore?" you suggested in a soft voice, as if you were talking about something normal.

"I've been thinking about it," you added on quietly.

You had daydreamed about it a lot, different scenarios, things he would say and do to you. But, you were indecisive about what kind of punishments Hawks liked to give, and wanted to experience it for yourself.

"I wanted to know what you would do," you murmured.

Hawks swallowed, loudly.

"We need to talk about it first," he stated.

His serious tone had your eyes returning to his nervously. His gaze was firm, but there was a weight to his eyelids that wasn't there before, something dangerous in the gold hue of his eyes.

"Start to finish," he continued. "I don't want to risk going too far, or hurting you. Okay?"

Your mouth fell open and you smacked it shut with a nervous, "o-of course."

"I want to," he added on hastily, as if suddenly fearful you would take his words as apprehension. "But-"

"No - no. You're right," you interrupted him softly.

You had your hands clasped together in front of your lap, trying not to let your thoughts wander too far. Hawks didn't seem much better, reaching up to adjust his collar as if it was suddenly choking him.

You were at work, and you promised each other it wouldn't escalate to here; yet, you were reduced to avoiding looking at each other, working to stave off the hunger.

"Ugh-" Hawks stammered. "I should finish this."

"Y-yeah," you replied immediately.

"Tomorrow after work?"

"Ahuh."

After that, you left his office in a hurry, not even glancing over your shoulder to spare him a parting glance.

...

.....

...

The second you stepped into his apartment, and the door closed behind you with a soft click, Hawks descended upon you.

He shoved his body weight against yours, forcing you against the door. Your back hit the surface with a harsh thump and your bag fell off your shoulder, hitting the floor. Your eyes had closed from the impact and you gasped as lips roughly fell over yours. Large hands cupped your sides, fingers digging into your back.

Your hands clawed up his shoulders as he kissed you, feeling the soft fabric of his T-shirt and pressing down harshly to touch the muscles beneath. His firm chest was practically crushing your breasts and his sweatpants did absolutely nothing to maintain the painful erection that was being uncomfortably pressed against your tummy.

He had been waiting in need, and that information had you moaning more so than the smoldering press of his lips.

The kiss went on for a long time, until your combined drool leaked past the corner of your lips. Even then, Hawks didn't stop, and you made no effort to resist his assault either. He tasted good and the kiss left you dizzy and longing.

He pushed in harder, pressing one leg between yours until his knee hit the door. He pushed up, digging his thigh into your clothed crotch enough to elevate you slightly. The heat, even through the fabric, had him growling with excitement.

Your leg shifted forward in a blind attempt to hook on his waist. You bumped his stitches on accident and Hawks hissed, grabbing your leg to stop you.

He retreated from the kiss, the sudden pain quite sobering. A wet smack echoed around the room as you parted from each other. He carefully stepped back and set your leg down, leaving you panting against the door.

"Sorry!" you gasped, realizing what you had done.

Hawks shook his head, looking surprisingly winded.

"I shouldn't have jumped on you like that-"

"I forgot about your-"

"-it was my fault for-"

"-didn't meant to hurt you-"

"-I should have asked first-"

You traded back and forths briefly before managing to cut off his babbling with your own, "no - no - that's not - I mean, it was nice, and you don't have to ask to kiss me."

Hawks knelt down swiftly to scoop your bag off the floor. He handed it to you, looking sheepish, and you took it with unfamiliarity, before ejecting yourself from the door as if you had been stuck to it.

Hawks stepped back to give you space to remove your shoes. Barefooted, and with haste, you shuffled into the living room and dropped your bag on the coffee table.

A body came in close behind you and you turned to greet the man with a smile. His erection was tenting his pants, and it was distracting. You tried to focus on the hand he tangled with your own.

His skin felt nice and his taste was lingering on your lips. You could feel heat and want radiating off his body. Just a taste was enough to get you desperate for more.

"Do you still want me to?" Hawks asked, his tone low, serious.

You blinked, gaining some sobriety.

You hadn't been doing this long enough to dive in without discussion first. It felt right, startlingly so. You could read each other seamlessly, with touch and taste, as if it was a perfectly natural thing, as if you had been doing this for years.

But, just because you felt that comfortable didn't mean that Hawks did, and it was unfair to make assumptions.

"Yes. I should have asked you first if it was something you wanted to do?" you offered softly. "Not out of obligation or-"

"I want to," Hawks breathed, cutting you off harshly.

You watched hunger dance behind his eyes. His hand squeezed your palm gently before shifting down to twiddle with one of your fingers. It felt odd, and likely was to keep himself grounded.

"How do you want it to play out?" he offered, voice softer than the harsh look on his face.

"Actually, I wanted to hear your ideas first," you answered softly.

"Okay," he uttered, pausing to suck in a breath through his nose.

This close, you could see the sharp slant of his pupils. They were long and narrow, thin against vibrant sheets of gold. The dark, heavy slants of his eyelids made his stare all the more hypnotizing.

"I'd like-..." he trailed off, rethinking his choice of words. "I'm going to bind your wrists, and chain you to the wall: arms up high, feet just barely touching the ground."

Hawks leaned in until his head was near your temple. It brought his face out of sight, and left you to stare at the expansion of skin between his neck and shoulder. You watched his throat bob and found yourself holding back a dry swallow.

"Tonight, you're going to address me as 'master'," he explained quietly.

His directions earned a pleased noise from you, the sound bubbling up unconsciously. You could see the faintest movement in his cheek as his lips twitched into a devious smile.

His voice was smooth, like he was saying something sweet, with a dark edge underneath, like a secret understanding spoken between lovers. It was, in a way.

"You've been an entitled brat, and I can't let you get away with it any longer. I'm going to whip you until I think you've learned something; and, babybird, you're going to take every bit of it without complaint, or I'll keep going until I feel like stopping."

The sudden catch of your breath had the tense clench of Hawks' jaw relaxing.

"Is that what you were hoping for?" he asked, almost cooing. It was sweet, in a sort of patronizing way.

"Yeah," you admitted in a harsh exhale.

"Yeah?" he huffed in a condescending tone. "Yes, what?" he added on sternly.

"Yes, I want you to whip me," you answered, feeling a rise in your chest, anticipation making your heart flutter and skin warm.

His hand trailed up your arm, a delicate touch before his palm smoothed over your bicep. His other hand joined on the opposite arm. He squeezed gently before letting out a sigh.

"Are you sure?" he asked, leaning back to catch your gaze again.

The slightest flicker of doubt in his eyes spoke volumes.

"Are you?" you retorted politely. "It's a lot to ask for and - and I know it's weird-"

"No. It's not," he protested firmly. "It's not weird. There's nothing wrong with your desires, and I don't want you to think you can't ask me anything."

Hawks paused and let out a deep, heavy sigh. "I just really, really don't want to scare you."

Your lips curled into an uneasy smile and your hands sought out his, gently removing them from your biceps to hold them in your own. His hands were larger than yours, ridiculously warm, and you squeezed them.

"Tell me what you're thinking?" you requested, looking up at him with determined eyes.

Hawks responded to your question with a huff and nervous glance away. His eyes weren't distant for long before they returned a little more emboldened.

"If it's too much, I hurt you or scare you, I'd never be able to fix it," he confessed in a hoarse whisper.

"That's not true," you objected softly.

"When-..." You paused, licking your lips nervously, debating if you should even tell him.

"When I dropped, it was because I safe-worded and he - well, he was upset about that."

Hawks' brow lowered slightly and his hands tightened their grip on yours. There was no way to miss the anger bubbling beneath the surface. You squeezed his hands with a sigh, hoping to calm him, before you continued.

"He stopped - the scene ended; but, he was too upset to give me aftercare. It wasn't because of the scene that I was hurt: scenes go wrong sometimes and that's okay. But - but I was left alone."

His lips parted, but you were quick to finish your thought before he could speak up.

"I know you would never do that."

Hawks' mouth opened and closed once, then twice, before he settled on silence.

He looked like he was fighting a losing battle, and any desire to keep arguing was rapidly waning. He tilted his head down and took your lips again. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders to ground yourself just as his tongue slipped in.

For awhile, maybe longer than necessary, your tongues danced as you stood in his living room, head angled back to let him in. One strong arm was hooked against your lower back, pressing tight, firm muscles digging into your skin, a brick wall you couldn't escape from even if you tried.

His free hand brushed hair away from your neck, trailed along your pulse before finding one of your breasts and squeezing at the plump flesh. His hand shifted around and his fingers slotted perfectly into the gaps between your ribs.

His erection hurt where it dug into your lower abdomen, and you were pleased to know he'd be in that state during the entire scene.

Eventually, the kiss came to an end.

Hawks was barely free from your mouth before growling low and hungry, "bedroom. Kneel by the bed. Now."

You tore away from him with a harsh exhale and trotted down the hallway with excitement. Hawks stalked behind you more slowly, shoulders back and head high, like a predator carefully ensnaring cornered prey.

You dropped down to the floor as commanded, thighs resting over your calves and hands fumbling together over your lap. Hawks' feet tapped quietly on the floor as he approached. You could feel the weight of his presence before a hand gently touched the top of your head.

It was patronizing, delicate, but like he was patting a possession. You failed to resist the desire to tilt your head into the touch, just a little bit.

His hand lingered for a moment before carefully pulling away. The bright, crimson collar - your collar - fell over your eyes as he dangled it in front of you.

Hawks moved slowly, giving you a chance to voice a concern, as he placed the collar over your neck. He was careful to ensure it didn't snag on your hair as he hooked it on, and even brushed the locks aside to get a look at the back of your neck adorned in red.

"What does this mean?" Hawks asked, his voice low and dark.

"That I'm yours," you answered.

That same breath was immediately caught when a large hand reached beneath the collar and cupped your neck, fingers stretched over your skin and palm pressing against your throat.

"I've let you get away with too much," he explained in a hoarse whisper, applying just the slightest bit of pressure.

It wasn't enough to cut off your air or leave a bruise; but, it was startling, and had you gasping weakly.

"Do you understand?"

"Yes, master," you answered quickly, feeling the skin of his hand against your throat as you spoke.

He suddenly let go and you swayed forward a little bit, suddenly dizzy with a wave of arousal and the slightest bit of fear. It wasn't real fear, but a natural, instinctive response to a harsh touch in a delicate place.

"Take off your shirt," Hawks commanded, patient, but clearly right on the edge.

You cupped the bottom hem and lifted the fabric over your head before dropping it to your side. Knowing that Hawks meant it all, you removed your undershirt and carefully unclipped your bra, letting it all that crumble to the floor. The air felt cold, a nice contrast to the heat bubbling beneath your skin.

"Don't slouch," he commented lowly.

Immediately, you leaned up, shoulders back and spine straight. Hawks cupped your jaw and cheek in an appreciative gesture. His thumbed trailed your throat, and you kept your eyes forward as he took in the sight of you, resisting the urge to lean into his touch.

Suddenly, his hand was gone, and he was uttering another command, "stand up."

Your hands flattened on the floor for balance before you wobbled off your knees and onto your feet.

Suddenly, startingly you, large hands were harshly grabbing at your wrists, pulling your arms up, over your head. The gesture had you twisting, bare chest colliding with Hawks' clothed one. He leaned in, towering over you.

The look in his eyes had you gawking back in shock. He bundled your wrists into one large palm, freeing a hand to roughly grab a fistful of your hair, at the lower back of your head. You winced, swallowing a whine, as he held you still.

"What did I tell you?" he whispered darkly, breath hot and floating over your lips from the closeness.

You knew you should answer; however, his harsh actions and words had blood draining to your lower half. You could quite literally feel a throb as your clitoris swelled. It left you dizzy and hurting in the best way possible.

The lack of response had Hawks pulling your head back and snarling. You moaned dumbly at the noise he made, eyelids fluttering, struggling to stay open.

"Answer me, you slut. What would happen?" he demanded, teeth on display like he wanted to bite you.

He probably did.

"-the next time-" you whimpered out, "-I disobey, I'll be punished, master."

"Yeah," Hawks cooed, low and harsh. "That's right."

You didn't mean to flinch; but, you did, and Hawks responded by jerking your head a little and growling disapprovingly. You moaned again, though it was weaker this time, as you tried and failed to gobble it down. Your eyes squeezed shut, torn between the pain and pleasure of his harsh grip.

You could feel your heart thundering in your chest and Hawks could feel your wild pulse where he gripped your wrists.

"Can't be still for two seconds. Can't look me in the eyes when I'm talking to you. Can't answer a damn question," Hawks uttered darkly, one discrepancy after the other.

It was bullshit, of course; but, in that moment, already sinking so deep into the abyss, you were soaking up every word with bated breath.

"I'm done being patient with you."

Hawks' hand let go of your hair and immediately reached up. Something padded and tight snapped over your wrists in a single, seamless motion, and you didn't need to look up to know they were leather straps: more comfortable than handcuffs, just as strong, and wouldn't leave marks on your skin.

The room spun as Hawks dragged you away from the bed by the brace holding your wrists together. Your feet nearly betrayed you as you tried to keep up with his long strides.

A hook jutted out by the window, and could easily be mistaken for a single hat display. Of course, you knew better. No hat display needed that many wall braces and wouldn't be placed that high on the wall.

Your arms went up and you could hear a metallic rattling. You focused on Hawks, on the intense, focused look in his eyes as he looked up, carefully looping a chain through the hook.

He tugged your arms a little higher, tilting his head down to get a look at your feet, before looking back up to adjust the chain. The last thing he wanted was to hurt you - to actually, truly hurt you. His careful adjusting only had the anticipation burning hotter in your gut.

Eventually, he let go and slowly removed his hands. You weren't quite on your toes. You were able to just barely stand on the balls of your feet. Still, it was enough to force your body into an arch.

You tested the maneuverability of your hands, twisting your wrists around to ensure no circulation was being cut off. Hawks watched with an impressed look on his face.

"That's right," he praised.

Hawks stepped in closer and pressed a pleased kiss against your forehead. You sighed and resisted the urge to lean in, not wanting to get too wrapped up in a brief moment of sobriety before the scene continued.

"Give me a color," he requested.

"Green," you breathed.

"Nothing hurts?" he asked, hands sliding up your arms in a soothing gesture.

He was close, which was nothing knew; but, with your hands forced above your head, he felt so much taller, shoulders impossibly wide. The gold of his eyes was striking and you could see wicked desire threatening to overthrow him.

Yet, still, he was patient and careful.

"No," you answered quietly.

"Don't forget your colors. I won't ask again," he explained, smoothing his hands over your cheeks.

Hawks pulled away suddenly, leaving you swaying as you tried to chase his warmth. You watched a stray feather float across the room and nudge at the light switch. The room dimmed considerably, leaving you in a faint light, just barely bright enough to see Hawks.

He stared, watching your bare chest heave with labored breaths, spine arched from the forced restraint on your arms. You stared back at him, desperate to be touched, a wild look of longing in your eyes mingled with the slightest unease.

You looked beautiful.

But, he didn't show that on his face. He looked upset, as if you had wronged him in some way, like he had thought better of you and you disappointed him.

That look had you desperate to please him.

"Master, pl-"

"Shut up," he interrupted you sharply.

He didn't need to be loud to force your mouth shut. The quiet, harsh whisper was more startling than if he had raised his voice at you. You stood there, back arched and bare chest displayed, breathing harshly while beneath his predatory gaze.

Finally, he moved, approaching you with long strides and cold eyes.

You gasped when his large, warm hands slid over your waist. He carefully turned you around and your feet dragged on the hard floor until you were facing away from him, angled towards the window. The chain above rattled, and you faintly realized he had you hooked on a 360 swivel.

He dragged your pants and underwear down your thighs and knelt down to remove them from your feet. You whined at the touch of his nails dragging up your legs as he stood back up.

A clothed torso pressed against your back and you felt the harsh stab of his need digging into your behind, pressing against the soft material of his lounge pants.

You flinched, a little tickled, when his hands made a path up your sides, fingertips dragging along your ribs. The gentle touch was brief, for suddenly a hand fisted into your hair and tugged your head back.

You whined, eyes fluttering shut, at the sudden harsh touch. His other hand wandered aimlessly across the plains of your chest, down your stomach and up your back.

He only had a few inches over you; but, Hawks felt massive in that moment, or maybe you just felt small.

The hand gripping your hair remained, firm, but not painful. His other hand disappeared from your body for a moment, before you heard a soft shuffle, and then something was draped over your front.

A smooth material fluttered in several pieces over your skin, dragging along your stomach. You gasped as they climbed higher, tickling your nipples on the ascend. The material trailed up your neck for a second before vanishing.

"Open your eyes," Hawks whispered calmly.

Eyelashes fluttered and you realized he was holding something up in front of you, displaying it to you with importance. His hand was gripped over a smoothly carved, ebony handle. Bound to one end was a series of leather straps that dangled loosely.

You drew in a sharp inhale, chest dramatically rising and falling with that breath.

"Do you know what this is for?" he asked, breathing into the skin of your ear with a sort of faux innocence in a deep voice that was equally haunting and tantalizing.

Of course you knew what that was; but, it was equally fun and important to introduce it as if you didn't.

"-to whip me?" you suggested meekly.

"Why are you being whipped?" he asked, dark and angry.

"F-for step-" you paused, as if to catch your breath, "-stepping out of line, master."

"Do you deserve it?" followed, hoarse and yet spoken so casually.

You were naked and strung up like a piece of meat; yet, it was that question that had red tinting your cheeks and blood boiling in your ears.

"Yes," you breathed.

Hawks didn't respond with words, just hummed at you as if he couldn't be bothered to answer properly, as if he was dismissing an obnoxious child. The whip disappeared from view and his hand carefully untangled from your hair.

Your head lulled forward for a second before jerking back up. You waited, muscles tight with anxiety, for the first strike. You expected it to come when you were unprepared, to startle you.

"Deep breath," Hawks uttered.

The sharp inhale that followed more so out of shock than to obey his command. It was a warning, you realized; and, a few seconds later, the whip came down on the back of your thigh, right beneath the curve of your ass.

An electric shock of pain danced across your skin and you cried out, loudly enough to nearly drown out the sound of leather snapping against flesh.

The impact had you flinching forward, and the chain above rattled faintly. You barely sucked in a breath before the whip came down again in the exact same spot. You cried out again, jerking in your restraints, and heard a quiet noise escape Hawks behind you.

You didn't have enough time to think about it before he hit you again. It hurt like a sudden, piercing shock before fading into a warm ache. You were immensely bothered by how fine you felt on the other side.

You wanted more.

"Master-!" you cried out, senseless to what you were even going to ask for.

"What did I fucking tell you?" Hawks snarled, leaning in to press against your back.

His free hand curled beneath your collar and squeezed your neck, forcing your head still.

"You're gonna take all of it until I'm done and - god damn - your skin is so fucking pretty-"

Hawks tore away suddenly. The whip came down again with a loud snap, this time on the opposite thigh. He was harsher this time, rougher, and you screamed again and again, toes wobbling as you tried to stay still.

"Screaming like a bitch," he observed in an utterance, sounding out of breath.

You were almost afraid he was overexerting and hurting a wound; but, when Hawks pressed against your back again, you were reminded of his painful erection, and the concern was abandoned.

"Do you like it that much?" he uttered into the skin above your ear.

An annoyed huff escaped the winged man when you leaned back, trying to touch more of him, trying to feel more of the warmth radiating off of him.

"Pathetic, huh," he commented, more so to himself than to you, though ensuring you could hear it.

He reeled back and delivered the leather onto your ass. You flinched and cried out, hoarser this time. It was almost a scream, but sounded suspiciously like a moan. It didn't hurt more; it hurt different, and it had you vaguely aware of how sopping wet you were between your legs.

A noise bubbled up, like a rough inhale, and suddenly Hawks laughed, dark and low and evil.

"On your toes, arch your back," he commanded, harsh and winded. "Knees together, ass out - hurry up."

It took you a second too long to figure out what he was saying, and Hawks let out a frustrated groan by the time you finally obeyed. Strung up, you couldn't really accomplish the pose much.

"Ya' trying to piss me off?" he growled, fierce and exactly the thing he was inquiring about.

The flogger came down with a loud snap and you cried out through clenched teeth, wobbling forward on the shackles.

"Can't be an obedient whore for one minute, huh?"

He switched to the other cheek, giving you very little time between strikes to recover. At some point, you realized that you weren't even shouting anymore. You were moaning, shrill cries that cut off into a broken whimper.

Hawks reached around and cupped your jaw, wiping away a mess of saliva that you hadn't even noticed was leaking from your mouth. You couldn't see his eyes at this angle, and whimpered weakly when he refused to let you.

A few strikes later, and you realized you were crying. It was soft, wispy whimpers, whilst hot tears poured down your face. It didn't hurt bad enough to justify that; rather, it was the frustrating need burning and aching between your legs and the unbridled desire to please your owner.

"I'm sorry," you whimpered, which stopped master mid swing. You felt the tips of the leather just barely brush your skin, carried by the momentum.

"Sorry for what?" master asked lowly, free hand grabbing you by the waist to spin you around.

Through tear-soaked eyes, you peered up at him, and gasped at the sight of his glowing, gold orbs. He stared you down like a predator, pupils like diamonds on the center of a stunning sunrise. He leaned in so close that you couldn't see anything but his eyes.

"For - for-" you babbled on pathetically.

"You know I can tell, babybird?" Master uttered, low and dark. "I know when you make an honest mistake, and I know when you're misbehaving on purpose."

You couldn't blink, could hardly breathe. His free hand was still gripping the meat of your waist.

"You're not sorry, and I'm not done yet."

-and you were turned back around.

You were long surrendered by then, crying out in delight with each strike, even as tears stained your cheeks. Your ass and thighs were raw and red, skin tender and throbbing.

"What are you being punished for?"

You were panting wildly, chest heaving with each labored breath.

"Being a-" you cut off and tried to remember what he had said earlier.

When you took too long, master snarled and snapped the whip, this time onto the front of your thigh. You cried and flinched away, this time in an unpleasant and sharp tone, lacking any delight.

You were ready to color, just to ask him not to hit you there. However, master seemed to know that already, for he rapidly switched the whip to the other hand, and smoothed his free palm over the red mark. It was soothing and apologetic, fingers spread wide and gentle.

Everything was still for a moment as his hand glided over the red skin, the only audible sound your harsh breathing. His thumb moved back and forth against your skin.

You floated back into the scene with ease.

"-for being an entitled brat," you answered.

"That's right," master cooed, stepping back again.

The whip came down on your ass, leather loud as it lapped your skin. You cried out, arms straining against the chain and making it rattle above you. Beneath the radiating pain, pleasure was blossoming, raw and hot.

"Fix your posture," master commanded, briefly ceasing his assault.

You hadn't realized that you were letting yourself sag, letting the chain hooked to the leather cuffs on your wrists be the only thing holding you up.

"Just a little more, babybird. Now, stand up, and be a good girl for me."

The encouragement drew a whimper from your throat and you obeyed, wobbling knees until you were balanced properly on your feet again. Your head lulled forward, and immediately jerked back when master struck you again.

It kept going and going, and you drowned in the sensation, until, finally, he dropped the whip, and turned you to face him once more. HIs hands cupped your cheeks and tilted your face up, until your bleary eyes blinked open and you looked up at him blindly.

"So pretty," he cooed, thumbs smearing tears across your cheeks.

You ate up the praise with a weak moan, but remained perfectly still, resisting the urge to lean into him.

"My pretty little slave."

A sound bubbled up your throat, but you swallowed it down quickly. The desperate, lovesick look in your eyes told him everything he needed to know.

"See? All you have to do is listen to me," he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You sighed loudly, eyelids fluttering shut.

There was a rattle and creak, and suddenly your cuffs were dethatched from the wall mount. Your arms flopped forward, limp and lifeless, right over master's shoulders. Your chest followed, and you tumbled into him.

Before you could think to grovel for forgiveness, master hummed, pleased at the sudden collide of your bodies. He knelt down and carefully slid his arm beneath your knees, avoiding the backs of your thighs.

You were lifted and carried across the room. Your back was carefully laid out on silk sheets, and you cried as if you had never felt anything as nice before. It felt so good, so soft, and you sank into the sheets like it was quicksand.

Your bound arms laid above your head, elbows bent, muscles sore. You felt the weight of your master above you, moaned loudly when he laid a kiss over you forehead. Slowly, he spread your legs and settled one knee between them.

"Babybird, you're soaked," he observed quietly.

It sounded sweet, like he was concerned.

"Do you want to come for me?" fell from his lips so sweetly.

Your head tilted back submissively, and you sobbed, "yes - yes - please - please, master."

A temptation bubbled up, but you had the sense to not voice it this time. You wanted to feel the breach of his cock in your velvety walls, to be claimed by his hips, to be a hole for master to pleasure himself. You wanted to be used.

But, bad girls didn't get cock.

"Open your mouth for me," master requested kindly.

You opened without a second thought and felt something velvety and smooth lay on your bottom lip. Your tongue lulled out to draw the intrusion inside, and you recognized the phallus shape.

It was too small to be master's.

It was pulled back just as you drew it halfway in. The bed shifted as the man above you repositioned himself, and then you felt that tip press against your entrance. Guided by masters hand, he pushed it inside. You were so wet and slippery that it glided in effortlessly to the base.

A button clicked and the toy began to vibrate, strategically angled upwards. You cried out, the sound fading to a whimper when master moved his hand and pinned your pearl between two digits. He glided them through the slippery mess, gently twirling your clitoris between the pads of his fingers.

Your eyes fluttered open, just in time to catch master's beautiful, gold eyes staring down at you. He looked hypnotized.

"Come whenever you want," he whispered before leaning down to draw a nipple into his mouth.

You had no control over yourself in that moment, vaguely aware of the endless string of whimpers and moans spewing from your mouth. You closed your eyes, trembling violently beneath him.

He released your nipple with a loud pop and leaned up to pepper kisses around the edge of your collar. Your back was arched, muscles taut and ready to snap like a bow string.

Master tilted his hips down, likely on accident, and you felt the painful jab of his cock, tenting his trousers. You could feel the heat through that article of clothing.

If you hadn't apexed in that moment, you had little doubt you would have begged him to shove his cock inside you, would have cried literal tears for it, even. But, you were too busy sobbing and thrashing in ecstasy to be capable of it anymore.

When you came down, it was to the feeling of master carefully removing your wrist bindings. Your fingers grabbed at the sheets, arms too sore to move.

"M-master, come-" you called to him weakly, "-you haven't-"

He didn't maneuver away to discard the cuffs, just dropped them carelessly to the floor.

"Shhh. In a moment," he replied quietly.

Your collar was removed with gentle hands and joined the cuffs on the floor. Master leaned up to grasp your forearms and carefully brought them forward, positioning them properly in front of your torso. He lifted his shirt, flung it over his head, and rolled onto his back, steadily bringing you with him.

Your cheek fell onto his a bare, sweaty pec, and you sighed a long, winded exhale. He hooked an arm against your back while his other hand tugged his pants down until the elastic snapped beneath his sack.

Your arms were too weak to reach down; so, all you could do was stare at master's large hand working over his cock in a furious fist. You whimpered, maybe because you wanted to help, or because the angry red tint on the tip and throbbing vein on the shaft looked so delicious.

He breathed heavy exhales into your hair, huffing with exertion.

"Tilt your head back," he uttered.

You did, and was met with wet lips.

"Open your mouth."

You obeyed, moaning when he unceremoniously shoved his tongue inside. The arm hooked along your back shifted up and he roughly cupped the back of your head to hold you in place. His tongue invaded your mouth as deeply as he could get it, knocking teeth togethe. As suffocating as it was, you didn't want him to stop.

The wet sounds of his stroking was mind numbing, informing you just how much pre-come was leaking from the tip: the slick noises of each glide of his hand, the slapping of skin. God, you wanted it - you wanted it - you wanted it-

A loud moan traveled from his mouth into yours and you felt his whole body shudder. Hot come shot out in thick globs across his chest and you felt some land on your shoulder. He pulled away from your mouth, and you laid there together, panting wildly.

You had drifted away, almost, eyes fluttering shut and mind peacefully numb.

Master moved carefully out from under you. He came back a second later, cleaned up the mess of his seed, and squirted lotion into his palm. You shrieked when a wet hand smoothed the cold substance onto your ass and thighs.

"Shhh. You're doing so good."

You shuddered on occasion, when his hand touched a particularly sensitive spot. Your mind filled in a picture of what you probably looked like. Was it going to bruise?

Not long after that, master carefully slotted back into the bed and pulled you on top of him. He had removed his clothes this time, letting you feel nothing but bare skin as you curled against his side.

As the minutes dragged on, and you laid there, cheek on Hawks' chest, sanity slowly came back. You felt his stubble against your temple and breathed out a pleased sighed.

Hawks uttered your name in a soft, querying tone.

"-was amazing," you answered sleepily.

"Yeah," Hawks agreed in a revered tone, as if he couldn't believe what just happened.

His hand stroked up and down your arm, across your shoulder. He seemed just as desperate to not move as you did. Apparently, he didn't want to talk either, and you were thankful for that. Really, you didn't need to. His heartbeat beneath your ear and sweaty skin rapidly cooling in the chilled air of the room was enough.

-the occasional kisses against your hairline.

-the way his chest rose dramatically with a deep inhale.

You drifted away before you could think to stop it.

...

.....

...

The second you woke, you knew something was wrong.

You had no memory of getting home, no memory of leaving Hawks' apartment. A quick glance around at the grey sheets, at the window with the beautiful, sweeping view of the cityscape, informed you that you were still at his apartment.

The realization that you had passed out in Hawks' bed washed over you like an ice-cold shower. The sky through the window was bright blue with orange hues dragging across the clouds, letting you know it was a short time past sunrise.

You climbed out of bed with haste and grabbed at a shirt that had been discarded onto the nearby arm chair. It was big on you, dark grey, and smelt like a combination of Hawks' sweat and cologne.

You practically sprinted into the hallway, gasping at the sight of Hawks shirtless in his kitchen, hunched over a newspaper with a coffee cup in his dominant hand, boxers hugging his waist. At the commotion, Hawks looked up at you, a perfectly innocent look on his handsome face.

Under different circumstances, you probably would have laughed. That wasn't the face of a man who whipped your ass raw.

"Hawks, I'm so - so sorry," you panted.

His brow quirked and lips parted in confusion; but, you continued, "I'll get dressed and get out."

You spun around, halting when Hawks called out to you.

"Woah - woah," he blurted. "I wouldn't of let you sleep in if I knew you had somewhere to be. Least let me get you a cab."

Hawks set his coffee mug down and reached for his phone, scooping it off the kitchen counter.

"I don't have - I just-"

He stopped tapping at his phone, gold eyes lifting to meet yours.

"-didn't want to inconvenience you."

Hawks blinked slowly, processing your words with comically wide eyes.

"You're not," he blurted suddenly, as if he couldn't believe you suggested such a thing.

"But - but, I fell asleep last night-" you babbled, "-and we didn't agree that was okay and - you have places to be and - and you should have woken me up."

"I wanted to let you sleep," he continued, voice soft like he was confused as to what the problem was, "especially after all that."

"But, I-... " you blurted, staring at Hawks in disbelief that he was really okay with this.

"-crossed a line?" you suggested weakly.

"I don't mind," he replied with a small smile.

You stared at him, wondering if it really was okay. This was number 3 pro-hero of Japan, after all, face plastered over magazines all over the world, the talk of many news stations and radio outlets. Surely, he had more important things to go than entertain you.

"I was making breakfast," Hawks declared cheerily. "I make an amazing omelette."

You gave up.

"Okay," you replied softly, finally letting your tense shoulders sink down.

Hawks picked up his mug and took a big sip from it, gulping dramatically. He set it down with a heavy sigh and gave you a quick glance from top to bottom.

"I like this look," he complimented in a teasing way.

"Oh, you would," you snarked back.

"You should go to next week's meeting like that," he added on, a grin creeping onto his face.

"Fine; then, you can go in my skirt," you tossed back at him before stomping your way across the apartment to return to the bedroom.

His laughter was loud and carried down the hall.

#hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #keigo takami x reader #hawks smut #takami keigo smut

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lovelyrots · 2 years

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Kinktober 2022 Preview!

*UPDATE* Crimson Pride (the sequel fic to Experiment 184 from ‘21) has been taken off for Kinktober this year since I finished it and I might have forgotten the kink in it…but I will post it soon just because I had been wanting to write this since last year and I love it and feel like I tied it up in a nice little bow.

I’ve been working on a couple of these already so they’re all ready by the time October rolls around but these are just the titles, pairings and a (bad) summary at what each one will be about. More details or titles may be added to this list as I continue to work on them.

Rigged - Dabi x reader x Natsuo

Natsuo had fought so hard to find and reconnect with his brother, bribed so many people and done some unsavory things to finally get a hold of him and try to rekindle their brotherly friendship. He just has to prove to his brother that he isn’t some backstabbing bastard(like some people), and what better way than ruining his innocent little study buddy with him?

Content Warnings - corruption kink, spit roast, double penetration, cock worship, dumb/bimbofication, noncon->dubcon, cnc

Daddy’s Girl - Stepdad Kirishima x step daughter reader

You’ve never liked your step dad, it’s not because he’s mean or has any immediate red flags. He’s just too pushy. He’s always constantly trying to get you to act like the perfect version of a daughter whenever you’re home from college. Whether it’s the way you dress, your lack of cooking skills, your ‘foul’ language or the guys you’ve dated, he always has to have a say about it. What a dick.

Content Warnings - stepcest, brat taming, noncon bondage, daddy kink, degradation and humiliation, blackmail, noncon

Fabulously Trapped - Tengen + Makio, Suma & Hinatsuru x widowed reader

You’ve been trapped in this god forsaken room for who knows how long, the only people you see are your unwanted spouses. The only one that stays longer than half an hour is Tengen, the sick bastard. To take you in the throes of grief and make you his. Truly you wonder what defines a demon and a man, if said man lacks any morals.

Content Warnings - Pregnant sex, thoughts of suicide, lactation, breeding talk, noncon, spoilers for Mugen Train(Just in case some haven’t seen it yet)

Rent - Toji Fushiguro x milf!reader

You’ve had your eye on the newest tenant of your husband’s apartment complex since you bumped into him coming out of your husband’s office. When he’s two weeks late on his rent though, the task of getting him to pay gets pushed onto your shoulders by your cowardly husband. Toji is more than happy to provide payment another way though…

Content Warnings- cheating, degradation, mentions of breeding/pregnancy, oral (fem receiving)

Pretty Girl - Miruko x reader x Hawks

Your new masters were oh so affectionate with you, nothing at all like your previous owners. They reward you when you present without a fuss, they ensure you’re fed only the best food and cream, and you get taken out to the massive backyard for some outdoor exercise. What more could a good pet ask for?

reverse hybrid au (humans are the ‘animals’), cum play, outdoor sex, pet play? (in a sense)

Blindsided - villain Izuku x vigilante reader

You couldn’t work with the so called ‘heroes’ after they gave up the search for your boyfriend. So you dropped everything and disappeared off the face of the earth, now you do what you can from the shadows. Waiting and watching for any trace of your freckled sunshine.

Content Warnings- stalking, corruption?, dubcon at first but turns consensual, inappropriate quirk use(Reader misuses her quirk), afo dad au

Shattered Halos and Broken Icons - Succubus Reader x Katsuki

He was a lonely hero and you were a hungry woman with a succubus quirk. How else would this end? It’s not your fault if he sees your parasitic ‘relationship’ as something more though. Right?

Content Warnings- consensual and noncon/dubcon, cumplay, delusional mindset, body worship, overstimulation, yandere

Opium Blood - vampire Aizawa x reader

Sequel to A Certain Addiction; You’ve been kept as his blood bag and cum dump for a year now, being drank from every other hour. He always takes just a bit more, whether it be your blood or your sanity…you just don’t know anymore.

Content Warnings- referenced past noncon, dubcon, aphrodisiacs, blood (mild), Stockholm syndrome

Tricksters and Monkeys - Geto Suguru x Reader

You’ve told your mother so many times now that you’re not being haunted, yet she insists on you meeting some monk or priest she’s been infatuated with for the past couple months. Geto, you think his name was. You decide to humor her and meet him, if only to get her off your back.

Dubcon, mentions rape and murder, Geto calling non-sorcerers monkeys a lot, emotional manipulation, gaslighting

#Kinktober 2022 #kinktober #x reader #toji fushiguro #kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki #bakugo katsuki #shoto aizawa #Dabi #natsuo todoroki #midoriya izuku #uzui tengen #rumi usagiyama #keigo takami #hawks #geto suguru

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pumpkin-pi-e · 3 years

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Period fluff headcanons

A/N: Self-indulgent fluff. I'd love to be more inclusive with my works, so I've avoided using she/her. I did, however, slip and use nicknames such as mama, princess, etc. My writing is never coded; everyone is welcome. There were initially more characters, but I was afraid of hitting the limit, so I'll continue these in another post.

Where is my future wife when I need cuddles? ;v;

Characters: Erasermic, Dabi, Toga, Hawks, Shigaraki, and All For One.

Content warnings: Fluff! Slight NSFW on Toga’s part, though. Be warned, lovely reader! Mentions of ‘mommy’ and ‘daddy’ nicknames, but not kink related.

Daddy made you some content, open wide.

Erasermic

Aizawa clears his schedule so he can be available for you. Your cramps are often debilitating, so he and Hizashi preemptively take the week off a few days before your cycle begins to help with any initial side effects. They won't touch their phones at all during that period. Their time is reserved just for you. In the days leading up to your cycle, you're coddled and swathed in all the creature comforts they know you like to self-soothe with. You’ll be bed-bound for the foreseeable future, and it’s imperative they’re home to care for you. Your headaches won’t allow you to do much besides toil in bed.

Physical touch is a must. Hizashi and Shouta resign themselves as your glorified body pillows; these pillows squeeze back, however! If you need them, they'll drop everything and cuddle with you on the couch or bed, your choice. They're cautious in avoiding your sensitive midsection. Hugs make the pain a little more bearable; your hubbies know how much solace they bring you, so they'll ask if you need one periodically. You're welcome to hold them for as long and as tightly as you need; you can even squeeze their hands if the discomfort becomes too much to take. They’ll encourage you to let them help you. It's okay to lean on them. Just grab their hand, okay?

Their hearts break for you. Aizawa monitors you with a worried pinch to his brow, and Zashi whines from sadness each time you squeeze him for consolation. It's hard on both of them to see you in such misery, but Hizashi always takes it personally. He suffers twice as much as you do.

They're overprotective, but please don't hold it against them. Your pain is visible in your expression, the way you tottle around the apartment, and how you've receded into yourself. Your limited activity worries them more than they let on. You're in incredible pain, so they let you snuggle them if it helps even the slightest amount. Shouta is good at sitting still for long spells, but Hizashi will get restless after a while. He takes short breaks to stretch his legs. Shouta fills in for him, settling you in his lap. You nestle in his chest as he cradles you, waiting for his husband to shake out his unrest and rejoin you. While waiting, he utilizes the time to inquire about your condition. How are you? Do you feel any better? Is there something he can get you? Could you rate your pain for him on a scale of one to ten?

Erasemic patiently deals with your hormones. They know you can't help your tears, but that doesn't stop them from drying your eyes. The heroes shush you gently, but they don't discourage you from crying. It's okay to weep. You're hurting, and it's a normal response to pain. You're most definitely entitled to a few tears from how miserable you are. You're allowed to grieve. They're here with you, going through it with you. You aren't going to suffer alone. Shouta clutches your hand, tracing the grooves of your knuckles; his support is silent: kissing the underside of your neck as he keeps you near his heart. The heating pad between your bodies mitigates the ache in your lower back. Zashi cups your face. He kisses those injured whimpers from your lips as if he could take the pain away. “It's gonna be alright, pookie. It'll get better. Just a few more days.”

“Zashi, it hurts.” You groan; the complaint entirely colored with agony. They hug you tighter. Hizashi bites the inside of his cheek, on the verge of a meltdown as he thinks of ways to make it better. His options are pretty limited since you won't accept any medication.

“Hizashi, would you mind running kitten a hot bath?” Shouta helpfully suggests. You might complain about the heat, but anything is better than watching you writhe in their arms. His husband was no doubt ignorant of the stressful whines he'd made. The task gives him something to occupy himself with so he doesn't stress his hair out. Ever the eager beaver to help his precious listener, he dashes to the bathroom. In the meantime, Aizawa repositions the heating pad to your misbehaving pelvis. He thinks you need it there most. “It isn't very nice to you, is it?”

Forlorn, you shake your head no. “Shou, I'm nauseous. I think I'm gonna be sick.”

He nods, glancing around for the bucket they kept nearby. “Do you think you can hold this for me?” He brings your hand over to where he’s resting against your stomach. “I'll grab your bucket, and you keep this pressed tight. Will that work?”

You nod tiredly back. Taking over for Aizawa, you hug the pad to your tummy. He pats the center of your back, helping the process along.

Hizashi scoops you into his arms, carrying you princess style to the bath that's calling your name. He dips down to kiss you each time you peer up at him. You're given kisses to your nose, lips, and smiling cheeks.

“Hizashi?” You call from the tub, halting their departure. You sink into the water; they watch you hide behind bubbles as you stammer after them. “Would the two of you maybe wanna...um..maybe...”

“Pumpkin? You're doin’ an awful lot of stutterin’. You don't hafta be shy around us. We’ll give you whatever ya want, sugar.”

“Tell us.” Shouta gently persuades.

“Ask us! Command us. Baby, we're your slaves.” Mic says, crouching in front of the tub.

“Doyoumaybewannatakeabath!?” You rush out. “...with me?” You tack on quietly, sinking further into the water. Only your eyes are visible as you quite literally hold your breath.

The heroes take a few seconds to fawn over the precious sight. “Babe, we'd love to!” The DJ quickly agrees.

“We’d love to, princess.” Shouta began, claiming the spot his husband forfeited while the latter stripped down to his boxers. “But I doubt we’ll both fit in your tub.” He watched disappointment momentarily dull your eyes. “Zashi can join you in your bath, and I’ll go get dinner ready. You'll have warm pajamas when you get out. How’s that sound?” Aizawa leans over the rim to peck your forehead. Your eyes light up at the promise of tasty food. The erasure hero smiles, standing to his full height.

“And by that, he means he's gonna order takeout.” The blonde not so stealthily whispers.

“Kitten needs to soak for at least fifteen minutes for the cramps to soften.” He places water bottles at the foot of the tub. “Don't be convinced by their grievances over the temperature. They'll manage.” He addresses his spouse, but his eyes cut over in your direction. It's for you as well. If you'd tolerate the medicine, you wouldn't have to soak as long. Hizashi went to utter an affirmative when Shouta cut him off with a warning. “And no water fights. Either one of you could slip and hurt yourself.” Your blonde lover pouts, petulant as he sinks in the heated spa of luxurious bubbles and aromatic salts. “Behave.” He stresses, pointedly glancing at Yamada.

“We will, dad.” Hizashi playfully rolls his eyes.

Unaffected, Shouta’s grin showcased his teeth. “That's daddy to you.”

“Y-you--?!” That grin thrives as he sputters. “In front of songbird??”

“In front of your salad?”

Hizashi moans, pained. He buries his red face in his hands, regretting ever showing him memes. “That doesn't even apply here.”

“Okay, millennial.”

Hizashi’s groan is loud and tortured. That's not how it works. It doesn't help that Shouta is also a fucking millennial, but that's not how the meme goes. That's not how any of this works.

You laugh at Shouta’s antics. Before Zashi can claw his eyes out, the ravenette leaves you two with an estimate on when dinner will arrive.

“Soo...” Hizashi draws, sitting adjacent from you in the tub. He doesn't wanna keep harpin’ on you over how you feel, but he kinda wants to ask.

“Would it be alright if I held you?” You venture softly.

His smile is just as soft. “Sure thing, mama.”

They'll help you to your destination if walking proves laborious for you. Erasermic are your chaperones.

Shouta’s eyes narrow on the hobbling form sighted from his peripheral vision. Peering over the top of his book, he caught you limping towards the bathroom, a hand cradling your stomach as though the supportive touch somehow lessened the pain. Your movements aspired stealth, but yielded clumsy shuffling and a zombie-like gait.

His demand is both incredulous and accusatory. “What are you doing?”

You aren't a ghost. Unfortunately for you, you're not invisible. His tone alerts Zashi, who pokes his head out of the kitchen arch.

“Hey! Hey, no!” His animated rebuke had one of their fluffy children pausing mid-grooming session, thinking the reproach was for them. The intended recipient, you hobble faster, causing The radio personality to squawk indignantly. “Songbird, no!”

Aizawa sighs, rising from the couch. He thwarts your underwhelming getaway, hoisting you by your arms as you're brought into his.

“I was walking. Do you mind?” Your huffy pout is more guilty than it is incensed.

Shouta draws you close to his stubble so he can peck your cheek. “And you didn't think to ask for help?” His smell instantly makes it better--his closeness and his warmth that you had to restrain yourself from cuddling into. Like a chastised child, you neglect his gaze. It earns you another kiss. “It's okay to ask us for help. That's why we're here. Please let us help you.” Zashi nuzzled your other cheek, simply offering affection. “Don't be afraid to ask if you need us.”

“Hizashi, help!” You cry, folding in on yourself and hugging your midsection. You hear a muffled thump from the other room.

“Sweet pea? Did something happen?”

“Zashi, I need you!” You whine, crumbling into a ball.

Your door flies open in seconds flat; he set a new record. “Princess, what's wrong?” His otherwise perfect hair is mused, suggesting he'd run the short distance to your room. He kneels beside your bed, worried eyes taking in the sight of your fetal position.

You look up at him with tear stained cheeks, and like a menace, make grabby motions for him. “Cutietoo, hold me.”

Hizashi releases the breath he held, running a hand through his hair. He picks you up, so he can join you on the bed. “Baby, you scared the hell outta me.” He whines, placing a hand over his heart as he positions you on top of him. Hugged to his chest, you can hear just how startled he’d been from his chaotic heartbeat. You sulk, blamable for his miserly groan and the panicked breaths he fought to control, squishing you tightly as he counts down from one hundred.

“‘m sorry, Hi-Fi. I just wanted cuddles.” You felt his little shakes, the adrenaline ebbing off as he came down from his alarm with some turbulence. He whines something incoherent, a noise that lets you know he forgave you.

Shouta peeks his head around the corner, checking in on you as well. He sees that you two are having a ‘moment’ and gives you privacy. “Let me know if you need your pills.” He offers from down the hall.

“‘m fine.” The DJ mumbles; his wearied inflection stabs you right through the heart. “Princess might need some tho.” He slurs, gazing up at you. Mic’s eyelids are heavy.

“Zashi, no.”

“Melody, yes.”

“Kitten, yes.” Aizawa seconds. The erasure hero returns with a glass of water and two of the most gigantic pills you've ever seen. Those better be for Hizashi. Shouta represses a sigh at the skeptical look you give him. “We’ll do them one at a time, okay?”

Now sitting up, Present Mic cuddles you as requested. You're snuggled nice and tight while Shouta administers your medicine. “We’ve got Midol and Tylenol.” He says, indicating at each capsule rolling on the plate before you. “I brought some bread to make it easier.”

“I don't want that.” Hizashi’s chest is unyielding as you scramble for distance. If anything, he pushes you closer.

“We know, but we’d prefer you hate us for a few hours than have you in a constant state of nausea.” He confessed.

“It's..” There's a pause while he carefully selects his terminology. “worrisome to see you like this. It's very stressful for us.”

Aizawa will never understand why you’d choose physical illness over a small capsule. You have your oddities, and they respect that, but do you have any clue how much they fret over you?

“How about one-third? Can you take a tiny piece for us?” Shouta chops the edge off, a mere morsel compared to the entire thing. “Even this much will help.”

“Maybe if you reward me.”

“As long as it's within reason.” He's not sure taking care of yourself necessitates a reward. Although, he recognizes the extent of your disdain. It would be an unpleasant ordeal for you. Likely, you'll spit everything up.

You make your price known, and Aizawa concedes when you ask for a kiss beforehand. That's not typically how such arrangements go, but he'll agree to anything if you take it. He leans in, connecting your lips for three moderate-length kisses, nothing you could complain against.

His lips return when you insistently breathe, ‘again.’ He'll never deny you his love--of your due affection. This time, you meet him in the middle, pulling him into you for a deep kiss that has Hizashi whistling over your shoulders. You do your best to keep him in that malesform of kisses, but Aizawa pulls away after he feels he made good on his end. It's time to make good on yours.

“Again?” You sheepishly propose.

“You're stalling.” You won't distract him with kisses, no matter how lovely they are.

Thanks to the wonders of home studios, Hizashi manages to catch his late-night radio show and still be available for you. You should be in bed, but you and his prince are stubborn about not missing a single one, even though he promised the archive would be available by next afternoon at the latest. Hizashi is a huge softie, and it honestly melts his heart. To show his gratitude for your commitment, he plays a special setlist just for you and Shouta. He gives you two a shout-out, saying how he wouldn't be able to do what he does without the support of his sweethearts--always cheering him on, his most dedicated listeners. You and Shouta lie close together in one of its booths, sleepily enjoying the mellow tunes resounding off his acoustic wall panels.

You confide in your husbands about feeling ‘frumpy,’ and Aizawa kisses your forehead. “You look beautiful; you always do.”

“I look like hell.”

“I agree,” He mutters around the straw of his jelly pouch.

Okay, that hurt. He wasn't supposed to agree with you.

“You look like hell; that would mean you’re hot as lava, right?”

Your jaw drops as his cheeks hollow, sucking the pouch empty, so it caved into itself.

Did the Aizawa Shouta call you ‘hot?’

“Don’t make me get Hizashi.” They'll tolerate a lot, but self-abasement isn't on that list.

“No need.” Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. You whip around like a startled anime protagonist to the spine-chilling sight of Hizashi tapping his foot. The look on his face spoke volumes. You know better than to talk that way around them. Those eyebrows are in his hairline.

You're in trouble.

(Spoiler: Hizashi sits you on his lap. He and Shouta tell you how beautiful you are; they show it. While they bombard you with kisses, they make you compliment yourself. Are you flustered from their praise, the undivided attention that's all for you? Cute. Extra kisses for cuteness. Now tell them more about how precious your hands are. You're getting praised right down to your toes.)

Dabi

“Alright, come here.” He gets fed up with your moping, pussyfooting around him when you so obviously wanted attention. He drags you towards his chest for those cuddles you tried to guilt-trip him into supplying. His arm secured you like a seatbelt to prevent any squirming (unnecessary since you don’t plan on going anywhere). His gaze rests somberly on his hand, concentrating his power to the center of his palm. It was like trying to fit a pencil through a straw. It took nothing at all for him to conjure flames of horrifying proportions, but it required painstaking effort to control its intensity. It was much easier letting the unruly fire of his quirk blaze than trying to bring it under subjection. Those ‘hell flames’ of his, as people from his youth often called them, would just rage even harder against shackles. With careful meditation, he had a dull flame with the warmth of a console that’s been running for a few hours. Toasty, but not hot. “Don’t squirm.” Dabi murmured lowly, pining you to his body as you fidgeted, wary of the engulfed hand threatening you with fire. “It won’t burn you. Don’t you trust me?” The question came off as exasperated boredom, but you caught the hurt beneath his indifferent tone. It idles near your stomach; he doesn't bring it any closer without your go-ahead.

“I do. I trust you.” After a brief period of indecision, you guide him by his wrist, placing his hand on your abdomen. You steer clear of the flames, keeping him situated where you need him. Dabi heats himself to a comfortable temperature while you make yourself at home against his chest, melting into the donated warmth. “If you need it warmer, let me know.” You sigh a hum, nodding drowsily. Your muscles relax after about twenty minutes of the heat transfer, enough to where you're starting to doze from the soporific effect it has. Dabi gently prods you, noticing you begin to nod off. “Feelin’ better, princess?”

“Hm.” You hum an acknowledgment, slipping into the seduction of sleep.

His hand lingers, ensuring your nap is pain-free. He stares unblinking up at the ceiling, head rested on the couch cushion. Guess his hell flames could do some good after all.

Asleep, you miss the low humming from his diaphragm, the fingers in your hair. The silence is serene, tinged with melancholy.

Because of the love he has for his mother, Touya is soft and considerate of your monthly woes. From her, he's learned how to care for you. She’d often hold him during her menses--hugging him to her chest as she sought comfort his father was too busy or simply too calloused to provide. In his youth, he could tell his mother needed comfort, so he sat patiently and let himself be snuggled. Dabi on the other hand, doesn’t know if he’s emotionally capable of being held at present, so he holds you instead. He’ll indulge you if you insist, but only if you ask. He won’t offer. The last thing you need is him shivering in your arms, breaking down in tears because of painful memories resurfaced from his past. Not very soothing, he’ll bet. This is for the best anyhow. His heat will melt away those pains you’re experiencing in your lower back.

He prepares s’mores for the two of you--one of your guilty pleasures. Once you assemble them, extra marshmallows for you and double barks of chocolate for him, you place the sandwiches in Dabi’s palm and watch as those blue flames burst to life. Hibachi-style s’mores. They’re toasted to perfection; melted chocolate that sticks to your fingers and gooey strings of marshmallows that cling to the roof of your mouth. Honey Graham crackers tie it all together, culminating in the pinnacle of desserts. You hum around the sugary concoction coating your tongue.

Heh. He smells like hibachi.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, weirdo.” His eyes narrow on you as he throws his head back, popping one of the s’mores in his mouth. He eats it hole.

Shit. You said it out loud.

“It is.” You affirm, wrapping your arms around him. He hums against you. It could be confused for a dismissive sound, but you know it's a prompt to continue. “You smell smoky like charcoal and incense. You're cozy like a fireplace.” He carried all the smells of home--family barbecues and warm Christmas’s, things you're sadly confident he's never had.

“Cute.” He finally supplies, drawing you deeper in his chest as you burrow for more of that heat he generated. “If it's heat you need, I've got an endless supply.” His arms open for you, and you take it as a green light to curl right up in his lap.

It's adorable how he kept you away from the flame; he held it at a safe distance and stopped your wide-eyed wonderment from leading you too close. His hand acted as a safety rail. He doesn't get your attraction. It's just fire--hell flames, he reminds himself. “Stay back, you little pyromaniac.”

It's extremely taxing to control his quirk the way he is. He's whittling a power that could melt skin and disintegrate bone down to a low simmer. Dabi’s wiped out and more or less drained for the evening. He’s annoyed that he can't help you to the extent he'd planned. Moderating his temperature for you, he's rendered himself useless, unable to muster the energy to peel himself from the couch. You two sit in defeated silence for a time. He's too exhausted, and you're bound by pain.

“Dabi?” His eye cracks open a fraction; the chill of his blue irises gives rise to a shiver. You hesitate. He watches you pussyfoot around him again, wary of your words and steps as if he were some wild animal that would rip your throat out if you chose the wrong ones. He hates it. Dabi never minded the look on others, but he found he loathed it on you.

“You know you don't have to do this for me if it negatively impacts you, right?” You aren't sure what you're apprehensive about, but you are.

“Yes, I do.” There’s conviction behind those words, a heat that isn't directed at you. He'd be better than his old man even if it killed him. He sits up with a bit of difficulty. “I can handle it. That's what daddy's for, right?” He ruffles your hair like a big brother. “Thanks for the concern, mouse.”

He limits how many s’mores you eat. It's called comfort food for a reason, but he's not going to let you make yourself sick off them either. You'd scarf them down until you ran out of crackers, and then you'd place the marshmallows on top of the chocolate. He knows you. You're allowed about ten. You'll have to self-soothe through another avenue; he's blocking that particular one off. His arms, on the other hand, are open 24/7. It's all you can squeeze. Cuddles come free.

His arms are fastened around your waist wherever you go, chin tucked into the cavity between your shoulder and neck.

He's no stranger to pain. Some days, his scars itch and burn so terribly he wants to scream, scream for the constant agony he's in, the anguish he's been carrying all these years--wail his throat raw until he crumples to the ground in a trembling heap of gasps and broken croaks. The jarring pain tunnels so deep it's in his fucking bones. He swallowed them, just like every other bitter pill life forced down his throat. You don't want to take yours, and he won't make you. His voice won't be their vessel, but he channels those hellish screams of anger through his flames; he gives them a voice as he takes those of his victims. He exacts their wrath; the negative emotion fanned his flames; they burned just as hotly. Dabi let hatred consume him in a blaze of fire. The intensity of their hate was too much for him to wield at times, and he has the burns to show for it. Everyone would feel his pain, a lick of the torment he carried with him every damn day. Misery loved company. When they eventually devour him, he’s taking this world with him. From the dark scarring covering the majority of his body, he'd say they aren't too far off from eating him entirely.

That said, he isn't grouchy if you writhe. You can cry your agony to the sky. He's never been the best at pacifying, but you helped him tap into the softer side of himself he thought long dead. Dabi’s not sure how to help outside of offering heat, so he holds you fast like his mom used to do to him.

“You got this. It won't last forever.” He muttered, stifled in your neck. He promotes your frustrated groans, those weak sobs. Fuck that pain. Let it out. He promised to cook anyone and anything that gave you trouble. Those cramps aren't exempt.

Dabi isn't the type to make himself scarce when your periods hit; he's not one of those partners that prefer not to deal with the inconveniences and messy business of your period. Oh, darlin’, he's not afraid to get messy. He’ll make a mess of both of you if you ask. You need only say the word. While his visitations are sparse, considering his usual haunts with the League, you can always count on him sticking close during these times. He has a habit of turning up a day or two before they start, right out of the woodworks. It's like he had a weird sixth sense. The villain is seldom empty-handed, bearing gifts of chocolate and treats topped with an excessive amount of icing. He knows you're a sugar addict.

He is the heating pad. He'll spoon you, toasting your back, or let you clutch him while you sleep.

You're difficult, but he puts up with it. You just like to be fussed over, he knows. That's why you're daddy’s spoiled little princess. He doesn't mind having a brat.

“Noooo, not that one.” You complain, and he reaches for another snack in the bag he brought. You snub that one too. Impossible to please. He grabs the whole thing and walks it over to you, letting you pluck out your goodies for the horror marathon he started.

“Make room. Daddy’s gotta sit. Unless you want me to sit on your legs?” Dabi prods your calves, and you place them on the floor, but not without grumbling.

“Brat.” He comments, sitting beside you.

“Here.” You dig through the bag when he drops it in your lap. You hand him your selection, and he rips it open with his fingers. He breaks off small chunks and offers them throughout the movie.

Dabi keeps your bath water nice and hot. He battles pain himself, so he knows what to add to alleviate cramps. The oatmeal and cinnamon are for him and you both; his stitches have been irritating him lately.

You find it peculiar how he'll let you clean the tender region of his stitches; Dabi will even shiver when your fingers graze his skin, but you're forbidden to touch those tempting swoops of black curls. And it looks so soft. Oh, to feel that exquisite softness. Your hands itch to reach out and touch velvety paradise. It's unfair. His grubby little fingers wrap so sinfully in your hair, kneading your scalp as he lathers you in shampoo.

“Stop pouting.”

You pout harder. He'll feel the wrath of your sulking. You only want to touch it--just one strand between your fingertips. Those bone-thin fingers massage that grumpy attitude from you, melting you into goop without the use of his quirk. They scatter your brain with their rigorous massaging, disorganized your thoughts so they focused solely on how masterful those spindly digits are at what they do. It’s villainous. You often pondered how they maintained their skeletal physique, given how much the villain ate daily. He’ll raid your fridge and bellyache about how his stomach is in his back after he's cleared it out of everything except the vegetables.

“It’s prohibited; daddy ordains it.” His dry voice would suggest that's he's poking fun at you, but you know he's playing with you.

“I wanna wash your hair too.” You huff, puffing out your cheeks.

Touya dips, kissing one of them. “I’ll let you put ointment on my scars. Fair?” For some bizarre reason, you like to pamper him. Washing him, covering him head-totoe in lotion, holding him when you think he looks sad and even feeding him. It confuses him. What do you get out of that? Dabi prefers to think of it as a charity; you think he's a basket-case.

“Tilt your head back. I'm gonna rinse it out.” Deep down, he knows you do it because you love him. You shouldn't. It's too reminiscent of his mother, so he inclines toward the first option. It's easier; he doesn't want to accept that you could love him so unconditionally. Even his mother's love had a limit. And that was anything that resembled his father. Guess who's quirk he inherited? He wonders some nights if there will come a day you can't stand the sight of him either, whether it's something of his own doing or something external.

“Ah! Dabi, you got it in my eye!”

“Let me see.”

He can't tell if you're being genuine or being a terror. He leans into your face, where your hands are covering your eyes and viciously rubbing. “Quit. You'll make it worse.”

You wait for him to get close enough. When you have him where you want him, you remove your blindfold and kiss him on the mouth. “Hehe, got you.” You grin up at him.

“I’d say I've got you.” His arms cage you in. You squeak reflexively, eyeing them with alarm as you try to back away from his warm chest, a not-so-unpleasant juxtaposition from the cold silver pierced through his nipples. “No squeaking.” He chastised, biting your shoulder. Of course, you repeat the sound from shock. “If you wanted a kiss, little mouse, you should’ve asked.” You stare owlishly, looking for mercy. “We don't take things from daddy without giving something back, do we?”

Extra: You grumble that you're gross and bloated. You feel all bleh. Everything is wrong; your hair is a mess, and your beauty marks are suddenly unsightly. You scrub as though you could wipe them off. You'll literally cry if you look in a mirror. Dabi gapes incredulously. You've never seen his eyes so wide. There must be something wrong with his hearing because there's no way in hell you just said that shit to him. You didn't dare fix your mouth to form the deprecating words he heard. You recognize your offense seeing his expression go stone-cold. His mouth flatlines into a grim deadpan. He loses all animation, his face going slack, an eerie phenomenon considering he'd just displayed more reaction than you've seen from him in an entire year.

Toga

Precious blood you're letting go to waste. So wasteful, Himiko complains--soaking up all that yummy blood with paper when she could lick it clean for you. She’ll be the perfect maid, willing to spend the next seven days between your thighs, slurping your mess. But noooo. You don't even let her suck the tampons. You throw them away! Again, wasteful.

The scent of your blood switched her from love-drunk to bloodlust. Her behavior has been...strange. She blushes as if tipsy, panting excitedly over your prone body. Himiko’s intoxicated breaths puff warmly against your cheek. Her tongue slides suggestively over her upper lip. She licks them as if she could taste the copper in the air. Her grin tightens, stretching her mouth abnormally wide, showcasing the little fangs she had. Himiko’s tongue shoves up against the right one, needing a hit of sanguine to subdue the cravings for yours, the one that ran between your legs.

You whine, receding into your bed, uncomfortable with having her so close and pressed so intimately against you. When did she even get in here? How many times are you going to wake up to find her kneeling over you?

Toga giggles at the noise as if there was amusement to be found in your discomfort. It's secretive, that chortle knew something you didn't.

“You're bleeding.” The farther back her lips pulled, the more her eyes slanted. You lean backwards when she leans forward. You clutch your comforter as if it would protect you from the glint in her eyes. Toga sniffs you, dissolving into manic giggles afterwards.

And this is how you discovered your period had come two days early.

As someone who also experienced cramps, she understood your pain. However, she could lessen them for you. Her methods aren't your preferred way of dealing with cramps. It's unhygienic. “Mommy will make it all better.” Himiko soothed, blonde head disappearing between your thighs. She kissed down their length and pulled your panties aside, diving in so she could finally have that coveted red on her palette. She stayed beneath your nightgown all twilight and didn't come up for air until mid-afternoon.

You wake to one of Himiko’s bright smiles, the lull of her eyes hinted at a deep-seated hunger that's been sated, sleepiness that came with overindulgence. You know precisely what she fed on. Your insides tingle, the pleasant hum that came after a good orgasm. Her pink tongue darts across her lip as if tasting the remnants. Toga’s gaze, the one that permanently possessed a predatory edge, warned that she could indulge a little further despite her fullness. She can always make room for you. Her stare was still famished behind that content. You know it's temporary.

“How did you sleep?” Bare legs kick merrily behind her without a care in the world. She cups her face with sweater paws, deep blush raging past its ordinary maxima. A manicured finger with baby pink nails pokes your nose. “From those adorable moans, I’d say you slept pretty well.” She purred in that childish lilt of hers. You stare up at her, wary as she goes on to tell you about her night unprompted. “I had the yummiest midnight snack.” The flush of her cheeks heightens, angry like a fever while she reminisced on the cosmic taste. You can't hold back your timid whine as she gushes about your blood, the tang of your ‘cute little kitty.’ She equates the flavor to sour candy. Her tangent cuts out as quickly as it started, her attention presently fixated on your lips. You can taste the hunger rolling off her.

She pounces when you find the resolve to backpedal, crushing your lips together to share the intoxicating mix of spices, forcing you to savor yourself. Her tongue invades your mouth, curling around yours as they rub sensually together. The flavors it kneaded into your dubious tongue infest your taste buds. Himiko moans softly, sliding your sexes against one another as she lightly humps you. You reply with a sound of your own, but for different reasons. You whine helplessly into her mouth as your arms are pinned to your sides, dull nails scratching identical lines down your skin. Drool runs from the corner of your lip, her tongue all but thrusting into you again and again in a crude imitation of a phallus. She gives a little grunt, frustrated that you aren't grinding back. You aren't aware of your freedom until you feel the cold, menacing press of a knife at your stomach. It tightens under threat. Your hips reluctantly rise to meet her, and she immediately drives them back down, whimpering little songs of pleasure. Toga raises her skirt so that she can feel the soft friction of your fatty vulva on her clit. She grinds them together until you both cry, but her hips keep moving long after yours stop, robbing the orgasm for all it has. Her knife drags shallowly down the line of your tummy, just the way you like. You arch into her, hugging her close as you hump just as desperately at her soaked cunt. She pants above you like a puppy. Himiko falls forward, catching herself on her palms. Her hums are delighted as she nuzzled her face in your chest. Cuddling your bodies together, she weakly moves against you, making the tiniest noises from the aftershocks.

“How did it taste? Yummy, right?!” She asks with explosive energy. The question comes after she’d bullied your core out of another orgasm. Insatiable, her thrusts had quickly regained their momentum. She'd purred about how soft and perfect you felt pressed against her. Your sweet pussy nudged so tightly with hers had her head spinning. It was addictive, and she needed more of it. Tweaking her nipples, Toga panted down at you that she could grind you until you were mere bones.

You groan and smother your face with a pillow.

She tugs you toward the bathroom, ungodly eager for the time of day. Your legs wobble from her care the other night. They buckle beneath you the second she pulls you off the mattress. Concern made her smile slip into a frown. “Are you okay?” She kneels beside you, hanging onto your sleeve. “Did I go too far?” Himiko looks uncertain, a strange emotion swirling in her chest, remorse a foreign concept she encountered so seldom she can't recognize it for what it is.

“I’m okay, Himi.” You assure your worried girlfriend. At least, you think you are. You don't believe it warrants a check-up with your physician, at least. “I'll be fine. I probably need water.” You soothe, letting her cling to you, supportively patting her thigh.

You invite her into your arms. When she gave herself over to stress, she tended to go overboard. Her fretting is on par with her possessiveness, which rivals her clingy personality.

Himiko snuggles up in your chest, pushing insistently as if she craved the kind of closeness that would meld your bodies. It was like she wanted inside so she could share your skin. “I um, I might need to sit here for a bit.”

She nods, resting her head on your shoulder. Toga hugs you, waiting on the carpeted floor while you recover your strength. Her angry tears are hidden, upset with herself for pushing you too far. Her guilt is known only to the shirt you wore, the moisture absorbed in its fibers. She was wetting them with regret.

“How are you? Are you okay?” Your query is met with a shake of her head.

“I’m alright if you're alright.” Before you can investigate further, she pulls back to touch noses with you. Your chest clenches at the watery smile plastered on her face. Pecking your lips, she stood with a flourish, anxiously rubbing her sleeves together. Her foot toyed with its adjacent ankle, a nervous tick of hers. She eyed your sprawled form while gnawing her lip. Himiko claps her hands together, startling you before she spins on her heel. “I’ll be back, little blade.” She announces, skipping out of the room.

She returns to see you putting pressure on your leg, testing its mobility. Her frown resurfaces. You're ushered to the floor again and chewed out. “Naughty. Stay here. D’you wanna fall again?”

“Himi, I feel like I can stand now-”

“Not until you've had these.” She objects. It's then that you notice the see-through tumbler filled with water and a bag of chips cradled in her arm.

After you finished your refreshments--the ones she was adamant about hand-feeding you, she went right back to pilot you to the bathroom. Sweater-eaten hands cover your eyes as you step over the threshold and onto the shaggy rug, signaling your arrival. It's a tad unnecessary; you’ve seen the inside of this bathroom a million times. You could count its tiles like you could count the creases on the back of your hand. You entertained her whims, nevertheless, recalling how playful she can be.

“Close your eyes for the surprise!” She sang, waiting for your say-so.

“Ta-da!” The woosh of air following her hand's removal caused them to open. You can see why she was so persistent. Bubbles overrun the small room, spawning from her bubble machine situated on the counter. From there, they rapidly filled the atmosphere in a torrent of endless opalescent orbs, shimmering with infinite joyful colors. Pure unadulterated joy breaks out on your face; the emotion permeates the entire room. Bubbles are innocent and playful by their very definition. You've never seen so many in one place! They reign in the air just as they dominate the bathtub. You pick up its sweet smell from where you stand at the entrance—the water is an eye-catching shade of sunset orange, the heat vapors rising from its surface inviting. The floral scent is so potent; you're convinced she used the whole container of bath-soak.

“‘C’mon!” Excited, Toga drags you deeper into the washroom before you can digest everything. Stumbling after her, you notice candles burning, spy the tray of food waiting on the portable caddy.

“Did you do all this for me?” Your tone is breathless, incredulous. Tears sting the corner of your eyes, the familiar tickle of emotion in your throat. You're usually the one doing selfless acts for others. Himiko flushes under the awe-struck look you throw her, scratching nervously at her arm. The mood takes a sentimental turn, something she’s ill-equipped to deal with. It isn't romantic or the overly dramatic love confessions better suited to her forte. It's something weakly emotional. She blurts a neurotic giggle, unaware of how to handle the situation—incapable of doing so.

“Mhmm!” Her head bobs forward. Himiko does her best to hide behind her bangs, catching her index finger between her fang as she studies her socks.

“Thank you, baby shark.” You wrap her in an embrace she hums into. You nuzzle her head, begging her to show you those pretty cat eyes of hers. Toga glances at you with a hesitant quirk on her lip.

“Come on,” You lovingly goad. “show me those cute fangies.”

You get a peek of one when you plant a kiss on her cheek. She flashes the other after you pepper her with appreciation--a thank you for her nose and one on her lips. It breaks out like the sun emerging from the clouds, bursting at the seams. Her broad smile cuts into her eyes—ate half her face. Toga’s blush returned full force.

“So pretty.” You praise, causing it to ignite—your compliments kerosene on the fire in her cheeks.

Lacing your fingers together, you lift her hand to your neck. You gave her something familiar to ground herself with. She flexed her fingers, testing the grip. It tightened in seconds, yellow slits narrowing in familiar territory. Your vulnerable neck in her grasp, your life in her hands, she became Himiko again. The more force she applied, the better she felt in her skin.

“Take my breath away, my love.” You grin, goofy and lightheaded.

Too immersed in her power trip, she hasn't noticed she'd backed you into a wall.

Toga scoffs, her face wrinkling as if she smelled something unsavory, releasing you as if you'd singed her. She understood the reference, and her stink-eye indicated how much she enjoyed it.

“Stupid emo wannabe bad boy.”

No more movie nights with the League. You aren’t allowed to hang out with Dabi anymore.

After she shook off her revulsion and could look you in the eye once more, she removed her clothing. Himiko peeled her sticky panties from her skin, pulled them down, and stepped out of them. They're kicked off to the side callously. She smirked as you glanced away when she lifted her shirt for removal. You're still so shy; it's cute enough to make her crave you. Her teeth bite into the soft flesh of her lips, supplanting their need to sink into yours.

You're still over-sensitive, after all.

She undresses that shyness, popping the buttons on your shirt in her haste to rip it off you. You squeak, covering your chest, but the tatters are already on the floor. You pout, lamenting over your ruined shirt. You liked that one.

Toga reaches for your hand again, ready to frolic in those bubbles. She's confused when you shy away from her grab.

“Um, Himi--I need these.” You murmur in a small voice, staring at the wall.

She analyzed your form, putting two and two together.

The sound you made was curious and anxious when she squatted on her knees.

“Oh...” You shakily breathe, strangely flustered as she kissed your arms and the unguarded portion of your chest.

“Bathe with me?” Her voice is the calmest you've ever heard it.

“O-okay.” You let her pull your hands away, and she kisses both of your nipples twice. Your legs buckle under you but thankfully didn't give out.

“Pretty.” She hums, praising you as you'd done her not moments before.

Himiko grabs your hands, gently leading you into the tub. She eases you down with her and attaches to your side like a barnacle.

You lead her in the heart of your chest, hugging her waist as she pushes around yellow rubber duckies. You sing soft melodies, aiding both of you in your recoveries from your emotional shake-ups. Afterward, you recount one of her favorite stories, stroking her loose hair as the two of you share breakfast.

Spa Week! Himiko’s solution to your PMS anxiety is pampering. She snagged Twice’s bank card and purchased salon-grade beauty supplies: diamond foot files, expensive mud masks, softening wax, etc. You name it; she bought it. Toga is dead-set on painting your nails to match her pastels. It's a week of junk food and indulgence. A bit of a kleptomaniac, she swiped one of Shigaraki’s game systems, an old Nintendo 64, so you could play Mario. Himiko may or may not have borrowed one of Dabi’s heated blankets to wrap you in. Despite having a fire quirk, he ran cold like a viper.

The League is convinced some vengeful spirit is stealing their belongings.

“Fucking gremlins.” Dabi spits, eyeing the empty spot where his expensive skin cream once sat.

“Gremlins? Are you mental? Has all that smoke gone to your brain?” Shigaraki glared, the members all converging in the foyer to discuss their missing possessions. “They can't even use the damn controller. Have you seen those things?”

“Yeah? Well, how would you explain it, crust-face?” He challenged, using the height difference to look down his nose at their ‘supposed’ leader. Oh, Tomura didn't like that one bit.

The inquiring voice of Mr. Compress cuts through the tension.

“Have either of you gentlemen seen my top hat? I seem to have misplaced it.”

Toga stole it for a fashion show. He has so many fancy suits and trimmings.

Extra: You admit you don't feel attractive. She giggles and tells you to stop joking. You're fishing for compliments, aren't you? If you carry on, trying to persuade her that you're serious, she'll get deathly grave. Toga drops her smile, and your heart sinks to the floor.

Stop. Joking.

Hawks

Keigo has a nest even outside of spring. It's very comfortable! A creature of comfort in his own right, he's drawn to homey nooks--a byproduct of his genetics. His year-round nest is perfect for decompressing after patrols. It's littered with familiar objects. His nest brings him such relief, so why wouldn't it do the same for you?

He stuffs you in his nest of blankets, a mountain of miscellaneous comfort items.

Keigo’s safe space is a perfect mess; it looks as if he’d thrown in everything that gave him the slightest solace. It's overrun with his merchandise. He's a prideful bird.

He shoves one of the plushies in your arms, giving you a mini version of himself to hold. He can't be here with you, and he's eternally apologetic. His agency rejected his request for off-time even though he put it in weeks in advance.

Nervous chirps follow his frenetic questions. Are you comfy? Can he make you comfier?

He goes back to resituate you because you don't look cozy enough.

Kei whines about how he doesn't want to leave you.

He needs you safe and tightly nested in his nest.

You have to promise him you're going to be okay before he considers leaving. He steals so many hugs and kisses from you; he's in danger of running late.

“Kei,” You gently summon, cupping his handsome albeit goofy face. Those gorgeous eyes of molten honey lock on you. His left wing flutters as he leans into the soft touch. They zero in on your lips.

From how he falls forward as if in a trance, you suspect your pretty bird is scavenging for more kisses. The finger against his lip stills his descent, removing him from that dreamy haze.

“You're going to be late, my love.”

Takami’s brow furrows. You can see him mentally debating the pros and cons of giving his agency the metaphorical finger and staying home to snuggle you--the minor consequence of leaving now or getting one last heart-stopping kiss.

“Hm-!” Suddenly, his lips are on yours; he kisses with a fury, desperately trying to convey his regret and the never-ending love he has for you. With each passionate, angry kiss, he's saying he's sorry. He's so sad he can't be with you; please forgive him, baby bird.

He kisses himself light-headed.

He makes himself late because he staggers back on wobbly legs for an extra kiss.

Keigo is a kicked puppy as he slumps to the door. The drag of his feet is evidence of his reluctance.

His protective instincts are giving him hell. It's a battle to step foot out that door. His wings are weighed with remorse during his patrol; he sheds feathers from stress.

Fretful, Keigo stops by to check on you frequently. Your phone buzzes non-stop while he's out, offering to swing over to the convenience store if you want him to.

He asks for pictures of you nestled in his stuffies. Kei needs the reassurance that you're as soothed comfortable as you can be.

He returns with a massive bag of piping hot Chinese takeout, and it's all for you. He sits across from you and watches you eat it. His hawk-like stare is off-putting, but it's out of his control. His instincts need you fed and happy. He glances from the fork to your face, prompting you to start eating.

Kei works up the courage to ask if he can feed you. Sure, you've done it for him on occasion, (usually when he's trembling in his nest during punishing heats), but he's never quite managed to push his apprehension aside to do the same. You're both very affectionate with one another, constant cuddles and baby talk, but he's been apprehensive for some reason. He finally gives in to his urges to pamper you.

His mate is going to be so spoiled!

“Pretty (girl, boy), can I feed you?”

Cheerful cheeps escape him whenever the fork disappears past your lips, the cutest little carol as he unwittingly serenades you through your meal. It's the happy music of birds celebrating their food, but he hums it for you. Each piece of chicken is cut in half before he serves it to you. Pleased, his wings shuffle periodically; when the fork leaves, he's eager to return it with an offer of more nourishment.

His chorus is too adorable for you not to comment on it. Keigo is an honest-to-god songbird. “Your songs are so lovely, pretty birdie.” You cooed, effervescing right along with him.

His eyes narrow on you. You know full well he can't control it. “Eat.”

You drink two of the three water bottles he'd brought, yet he still tries to persuade you to finish the last one. You're losing liquids, right? It would help if you replenished them. Keigo begs, nuzzling his face against your arm; to sweeten the deal, he hits you with his perfected puppy eyes.

You agree to finish half if he drinks the rest. He's been an angel caring for you, but he hadn't thought of himself once. He didn't order a single item for himself.

The number two hero backtracked frantically when he responded that he didn't matter, to which your face dropped. No, no! Please, baby! Please don't be upset; he can't deal with that right now. He'll eat some of your food if you want him to. Only a little, though. It's for you.

Keigo trills when you put him in the nest, envelop him in fresh linens, and feed him. You stab whole bits of sesame chicken, blowing the steam away before giving him the marinated meat. His excited chirps are even louder now that he's the one experiencing the bold flavors. You hardly have time to cool it off before he snatches it from the fork with his teeth.

He moans about not wanting to go back on patrol. You've made him all comfy. Takami fights out of the satiny fibers of his comforter, battles the call of his bed and plushies--the home he'd made in your arms.

“Babe, how we feelin’? Any better?” Kei makes sure you have everything you need, shoving his phone in his pocket as he prepares to leave for his last round of patrols. If you pout, he’ll rush you in a blur of red feathers that shut the world out, enfolding you, so it's just you and him. His lips promise his return, driving the point home with as many kisses as it takes. Please don't give him those sad tweets. His poor heart can't do that. His eyes solidify that promise as they hold yours. “Baby bird, I'll always come home to you. I won't stay away too long.” He clasps your hands in his, joining your noses for encouraging nuzzles.

Heartbroken, he’ll whine after you if you tell him you're having cramps and bad headaches, tentatively asking him to pick up painkillers on his way home.

“Baby bird, why didn't you tell me?” He isn't leaving. The poor secretary on the other side of the call is interrupted by the rude click of Keigo ending the conversation. The battery is removed from his phone before he lodges it over the couch.

“No distractions.” He answers at the startled expression you wore. You nod slowly, eyeing the direction his battery landed. You've seen how they blew up his phone with notifications. You're surprised he hasn't done it sooner.

His bird-like additions cause him to do some eye-raising stuff. Keigo’s instincts scream at him to make you comfortable; they tell him to keep you swaddled in the nest and convince him you're vulnerable somehow. You need to be warm. Cozy mate equals happy mate.

You two huddle in his nest. The original lovebirds, kissing in a tree. The hero hauled you toward his bedding for cuddles. Those darling noises prevail even as you're nestled near his heart. You giggle as his nose burrows in your neck, scenting you. It's a bad habit of his. He does it while relaxing with you and has been known to partake in the activity when bored. Less commonly, he’ll hug you and anxiously rub his scent into you as a nervous habit, just like he's doing right now.

“Baby, please, please take your meds,” he sounds wretched, overwrought.

“I know it's nasty, I know pretty baby, but ya gotta take it.” He’ll lose feathers if he has to listen to your pained moans another minute. He parrots them, returning your woeful warbles like a parakeet. You consent to take them. It's equally challenging for you to see him stress his feathers out, groaning as he endures mental suffering from his instincts. They can't bear to see you in pain. “Thank you, baby bee.” Keigo squishes you against him, kissing your cheek as you squirm in his arms to escape them. You love him, your precious baby boy, but you're drowning, you're drowning in kisses. He's giving you too many.

Unwilling to leave you, he orders takeout from his phone. Keigo lets you select what you want. You're settled in his lap, and his wings do their usual flutter as you scroll through promising restaurants.

“Do you want anything, Kei?” You question, glancing over your shoulder where he's perched.

“Usual.” He mutters, eyeing your cart. He's interested in the quantity rather than the price.

Accepting the phone from your hands, he puts in his order, adding to yours like always.

Because of his bird-like qualities, he likes to stockpile. Keigo’s the type to buy in bulk and squirrel things away for later use. He's ready to ram his head into the nearest wall, frustrated with himself for letting you run out of supplies. His agitated pacing burns a hole through the carpet; he sheds feathers left and right. You watch him tug cruelly at his hair, unkind hands scratching furiously at his scalp, mussing his stylized hair.

“Keigo, honey, it's okay. Please be kind to yourself.” He needs to walk out his agitation; you understand. Still, you can't tolerate his self-punishment. He takes such good care of you, and he doesn't deserve that.

“Please, come here?” You take his hands away, and he lets you tuck him in your bosom. He nestles deeper, a natural reaction as you pet his hair.

“‘m sorry, babe. It won't happen again.” His murmur refers to the missing essentials, not the harsh way he'd dealt with himself. Your chest burns, sorrowful.

“Kei. Listen to me, pretty bird.” Your hands remedy the harsh treatment he'd given his hair. You undo that meanness with soft caresses, love carded through his locks with every stroke—his shiver races through your fingertips. Self-damnation is answered with forgiveness. Takami immediately gazes up at you. You dip down to kiss his nose that wrinkles at the contact.

“Don't treat yourself that way. You do so much for me; you've done so much for me, not just today, but every day. I love you; I don't want to see you deal so harshly with yourself. Be nice to my birdie. He's sensitive, sweet, and fragile. He deserves kindness.” Keigo’s eyes are wide on yours, blown from his astonishment. They're wide and innocent, asking if you truly meant it.

“I'm comfortable,” You confirm, brushing his bangs aside so that you can see those beautiful puddles of amber uninhibited. His wings extend, figurative tail starting a hesitant wag.

“content,” He held his breath.

“and happy. You make me so happy, Kei.”

Keigo’s wings quaver behind him, betraying his emotions. He lets your words sink in for a full minute. He replays them in his mind, loving the sound as he shares his ecstasy via a cloudburst of excited, desperate kisses. His words are practically whined between feverish presses.

“Baby bird,” kiss

“--love you” kiss

“so much.” kiss kiss

He gives you one of his feathers. “Squeeze this whenever you miss me. I'll feel it, and I'll get a move on.” He places the red feather in your palm, closing your fist.

Testing it, you gently skim the delicate hairs with your index finger.

A full-body shudder travels through him. His hand rests at his heart as if you were caressing his very soul. Keigo’s ears are tinted red when he tells you, “Babe, I'm not gone yet.”

Your touch was so light it tickled and teased. He felt the love behind it. You massaged his heart with that experimental caress. It elicits an odd warmth within him, a welcome one. His feathers are intimately linked with himself. They're more or less detachable limbs; he can experience the world around him vicariously, he can feel through them. You're essentially petting him.

More of those lovable satisfied peeps sing from his spirit. You’re enclosed in a tight hug before he takes off.

King of cozy alcoves. Keigo knows a thing or two about creating comfy spaces. You two spend the night making the most epic pillow fort known to man. It becomes a contest somewhere along the way. The original project is ditched as you both scramble to outdo one another--stealing pillows from each other’s pile and playfully wrestling over fairy lights like two rabid shoppers on Black Friday. Keigo lets you win, perfect gentlemen. However, his wing ‘accidentally’ knocks over your masterpiece. “Oops. Nervous wings.” Not so gentlemanly.

He keeps you toasty and comfy with cuddles in his your nest, plural.

You'll split his heart in two if you whisper your discontent regarding your appearance. Keigo’s sadness extends to his eyes. His countenance crumpled in the wake of his distraught heart. The hero’s anguish burrows into his soul. The wings behind him droop sadly. “Feather, what do you mean? You're so pretty.” He urges desperately, hurt that you can't see it.

Shigaraki

It's the launch day of one of the year's most heavily anticipated games, and Shiggy is dutifully searching for his player two, controller in hand. He potters around the base like a child who lost their parent in a grocery store, growing more desperate and distraught the longer he couldn't find you. His mind is in decay, anxious thoughts a cyclone of what-ifs: what if those heroes kidnapped you from your home, from the people that love you? Tomura’s stomach twisted in knots, imagining how terrified you'd be. He kicks in every door, unconcerned of the indignant squalls that follow. Are you playing a game with him? A form of hide and seek? A frustrated groan tempts his throat. He doesn't like this game. He's a breath away from screaming your name when the last door he stormed reveals your huddled figure. He could whine from relief. Shigaraki stops short, paying heed to how miserable you appear, bowed into yourself while Big Sis Magne pets your hair, calling you poor dear. The release date overshadowed your monthly cycle; the days coincided with one another. He’d been so excited to play your favorite series together that he'd overlooked it--just as he was oblivious of the pile of disintegrated ash at his feet, the residues of your controller.

Tomura has come a long way from his initial ignorance, the first time he encountered your fetal position. He’ll be hard-pressed to admit how panicked he was when you complained of stomach aches. He paled when you explained you were bleeding, hoping to calm his rising hysteria, but it soared to new heights. Comically, he thought your bleeding was internal, hellbent on delivering you to his master. Master had an abundance of acquired quirks; perhaps there was one in there that could cure you. You pumped his breaks before those frantic hands could snatch you from your comfy nest. Shigaraki almost didn't allow you to explain. You can't leave him; you can’t! You won't die in his arms. If he lost you, his mind would fragment, and he'd lose himself too. You sat him down and watched his ears burn brighter and brighter as you corrected his false assumption. The leader looked askance, scowling off the side to save face, preserving what little dignity he had left considering his flaming face. Bashful, he'd all but demanded you tell him how to help you. If you wouldn't, he'd ask Kurogiri. It isn't hard to fluster Tomura, yet you soften every time you achieve that adorable furrow in his brow. You told him heat was your best friend; it made your muscles hate you less. With a touch of shyness, you mentioned how physical affection helped too. Shigaraki poutingly held you like a stingy child cleaved to a beloved toy, barring the rest of the league from any contact with you. These days, he’s better prepared and much more knowledgeable. Additionally, he's also more inclined to share, a testament to his character growth.

“I know a hack.” He said, jumping from the couch as you mourned your defective heating pad that refused to get warm. He respawned with bottled water, and you regarded him as if he’d grown a second head.

“Iggy, that's very thoughtful, but what am I supposed to do with-”

“Here, take it.” He deposits the bottle in your hand.

Ooooh, that's nice. You dissolve into the couch, audibly sighing from the delicious heat.

From somewhere at the bar, Dabi calls out a ‘you're welcome.’

“Thank you, Dabi!” You return over the commotion of the boys--Dabi, Twice, and Spinner playing cards.

“Don't mention it.”

You sit thigh-to-thigh with Shigaraki on the floor, warmed water bottle nestled in the fold of your midsection as you hunch forward towards the screen, mashing the buttons of your borrowed controller into submission as you race the tracks of Mario Kart. Members of the League crowd behind you on the couch, waiting for their turn after the tournament finishes.

“There's a four-player limit.” Shigaraki hisses as terror twins Dabi and Himiko pester him.

Toga hums, disappointed. She flops onto the couch, folding her arms. Dabi passes a water bottle between his hands while he bides the time. Your official heat supply, he warmed them up for you. As soon as one lost its warmness, he handed you another one.

Thankfully, they turned their sights away from Shigaraki and annihilated the pizza boxes Twice brandished instead.

Big sis isn't a huge game buff, so she lays at your feet, content in massaging their soreness away, delighting in the lively chatter of her found family. Kurogiri does the same, polishing glasses at the bar.

Okay, so this is all lighthearted, but I could see Dabi walking you into a corner, pining you with an arm to the side of your head. “You wanna ditch crusty and shack up with me? I can keep you warm tonight.” The deep curl of his voice almost made you believe he was serious, although you know this is a game he likes to play to piss off the group’s leader. He winks, letting you know it's all in fun.

“I'll snap your dick off if you don't put it away.” Shigaraki comments without glancing from the screen.

“Ew, incest.” Toga scowled at him, sticking her tongue out.

Dabi sighs, “They aren't my biological (sister, brother).”

“Doesn't matter. We're a family; stop being weird.”

He worries more than you think. Tomura doesn't like the idea of you in pain. Pain is annoying, infuriating, and persistent like the itch in his skin. It pisses him off. You're frustrated, right? Here, you'll feel better after you throw some darts at All Might’s head. (A picture of it anyway) Take out your frustration. Blame all your miseries on All Might. He's everything wrong with this world.

Baking with the league! Big sis suggested some sugary confectionery to put a smile on everyone's faces. Toga squeals, clapping excitedly, already drooling over the heap of chocolate she's going to decorate with. Twice has a love-hate relationship with the notion; one side of him cheers along with her, the other makes gagging noises. Dabi plays his delight off with an air of indifference, throwing his shoulders back. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he slinks to the kitchen without any prompting. He wants first dibs. Knowing Toga, she’ll eat the icing out of the jar before anyone can use it, batter included. Not that he won't do the same, but at least he isn't as audacious. Shigaraki doesn't have an opinion one way or another. He could take it or leave it. Big sis and Spinner are patient instructors, guiding the band of Japan's worst bakers through the baking process. Twice fights with himself over the right amount of sprinkles for the batter. He wants to add two tablespoons, and his other wants to dump in a whole cup (the entire shaker).

“That’s pretty excessive, don't ya think?” He says, attempting to help his other see reason.

“No, yes!” They contradict. “You're a spoilsport. You're no fun!”

Twice plays tug of war with himself, as if both he and his other controlled an arm and were wrestling for rights.

“Oh, goddamnit!” He yelled, the whole packet falling into the bowl, much to his double’s delight.

“Yay, sprinkles!” Toga gushed, batter coating her face. It was splattered just about everywhere. She sucked it from her fingers, humming happily with a pleased blush to match. She danced in place, lost in her own little world.

Dabi is making culinary masterpieces. His cupcakes are already in the oven. With a spoon, he pours cake batter into his hand. He dashes it with a pinch of sprinkles before he sets it alight. His flames burst to life; the leftovers are used to make something akin to fried cookies. He throws them back with speed, rivaling Himiko, who's doing a disappearing act of her own with the batter. Eat your heart out, Compress. Said magician offers you one of his finished desserts. “For you, my dear.” He tips his hat to you, bowing.

You return his bow, throwing in a curtsy. “Thank you. I appreciate your generosity.” You give him one of your creations, returning his kindness.

Shiggy may not be crazy about them, but he's sorta jealous. Where are his cupcakes? He's the one in charge here. If anyone should get cupcakes, it should be him. How dare you give another man your food? How dare you share your love language? What, do you love that hack magician? No. You can't love anyone but him. The league can survive one less member-oh. You offered him one too. He's going to accept this, but he's highly offended by it.

“Dabi, slow down. You're going to burn your tongue. Himi, you're going to get a stomach ache after all that pizza.” You caution, helping Kurogiri straighten up. Honestly, they're like children.

“No stranger to burns, doll.” He drawls, sounding indolent and sluggish, almost drugged. He indicates toward his body, and your eyes quickly hone on the staples and blackened skin.

“Still.” You defended, worry clouding your tone.

“If emo boy wants a rubbery tongue, let him have one.” Shigaraki sassed. You shouldn't concern yourself over anyone but him. Your irritating maternal fussing is all his.

“All the smoother to lick things with. My gain, their pleasure.” The dirtiest grin cracks his face like fractured glass.

“Ugh.” Tomura scrunched his nose, disgusted.

All For One

AFO tolerates your mourning to an extent. Your body is grieving, saying goodbye to the dead. It's a painful process, and you're afforded your tears. Nonetheless, he won't abide hollow words, disingenuous things you don't mean. You aren't ‘dying,’ and he won't give ear to such claims. You're rebuked harshly. It's salt in an old wound, and Shigaraki refuses to entertain the thought of losing you. As he sits, warming the plush leather beneath him, borrowing your weight as you tuck into his chest as if seeking refuge, he listens to those grievances of yours.

“Don't you have a healing quirk in there or something?” With all of those quirks, there's gotta be one that could help.

“I do.” He replies with a smile. In his search for a quirk that could have restored his brother, he's come across many healing-type abilities.

Oh, thank God-

“Unfortunately, my dear, they are self-regenerating quirks. I regret to inform you that I hold no cure to your ailment.”

He chuckles, a sound deep and husky that tickles a specific part of your brain--amused by your theatrics as you visibly deflate. If you weren't in such pain, that gorgeous laugh would melt you into putty.

“At least, not in my arsenal of acquired talents.”

“However,” His baritone purrs with something expensive that teased mischief. “Your cure might be found in my fingertips, perhaps in my tongue if you'd care for my services.”

“Don't be gross.” You playfully shove his chest with your shoulder.

You should have known his quirks are self-serving.

He settles into the chair with a shrug, relieving the tension in his back. An air of dispassion surrounded him, signifying he was unbothered by the refused offer.

His foot danced to a ballad that eluded you. Wine swirled precariously close to the rim of the wine glass containing it as he rotated his wrist. “Could I interest you in a simple massage then?”

Shigaraki’s question hung in the air; it held no trace of obligation to accept and came without burden. There was, however, a strange heaviness in the atmosphere, a peculiar do or die that was par for the course when dealing with someone of his status. When he spoke, reality bowed before him and reshaped itself to suit his whims.

You study his larger-than-life hands, the quiet power they harbored. A shiver heightened your senses at the thought of them manipulating your flesh. You swallow, taming the excited albeit nervous shake in your voice. “Okay.”

You're warmed from the inside out, relishing the hot chamomile tea courtesy of the doctor (who honestly thought the act was beneath him); he isn't a servant, but anything for master Shigaraki. It's his pleasure to be of assistance. Shigaraki only employed those who would open a vein at his decree. The heat settling in your belly unlocked conctracting muscles, and AFO gave it a run for its money. Your body relaxes into itself, dissolving in the leather seat as you become one with its glossy makeup. You joy under his touch like a cat receiving pets, nuzzling at his kneading fingers with the side of your head. You must have moaned gratitude because he answers you.

“Anytime, my dear.”

He's infinitely amused that you, an innocent little rabbit, sought shelter in the arms of a beast such as he. Instead of swallowing you whole, quirk and all, he dismissed his famine for power and gave the warmth you yearned for.

#keigo x reader #keigo fluff #erasermic x reader #toga x reader #dabi fluff #dabi x reader #hawks x reader #shigaraki x reader #all for one x reader #cw: periods

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love-and-monsters · 2 years

Text

The Bartered Wedding. pt. 2

M Fae X GN reader, 6865 words.

After your unwitting engagement, you have finally been married off. Neither you nor your new husband are pleased with the arrangement. Being forced to spend time with him brings you some greater understanding of his life, and you are forced to prep for your first job as his spouse.

This is the second chapter of The Bartered Wedding. Part one can be found here.

Content warning: this story touches on emotionally negligent/abusive parenting.

Your husband showed up drunk to your wedding. You would have been more offended about it if you hadn’t also been drunk.

As it turned out, that board really did supply you with anything you wanted. And that included massive amounts of booze.

It wasn’t as awful as it could have been. You weren’t completely trashed. Just buzzed enough to make the whole situation bearable. Your head was pleasantly floaty, and the weight of who and what you were marrying into kept slipping right out of your head.

Infuego managed to wrangle you into your wedding clothes and set you down the aisle. Perhaps sensing you weren’t totally with it (or maybe just looking at you and making the most likely assumption), they set you up at the back of the room and nudged you when it was time to walk.

The wedding took place in the southernmost section of the manor. The hall was dim, lined with pale orange lights. It cast the audience into shadow, disguising their faces from you. Only the curving arch made of glowing magma at the end of the hall illuminated anything. A shifting, spectral Fae stood underneath it, watching you unblinkingly.

You walked the length of the aisle in slow, measured steps. Music played from somewhere, though you couldn’t see any instruments. There didn’t seem to be any speakers, either. The music didn’t get louder or quieter no matter where in the room you moved. It was like the music was coming from the air itself.

Once you were under the arch, you stopped and turned back to look down the aisle. Pelatio had appeared at the end of the hall, upper arms raised like he was going to drop into an elaborate bow. Even in your irritated and inebriated state, you could recognize that he looked good. He was wearing a sharp black suit with splashes of red, orange, and gold. Bangles hung from pretty much every available part of his body. His hair was done up in some sort of elaborate plait, and there was a long, flowing cape around his shoulders. He waved to the audience like he was about to start a concert.

The music swelled as he made his way down the aisle- from a distance, he didn’t appear drunk, but the closer he got, the more you noticed a sway in his step, the lack of focus in his eyes, and the way he grinned flirtatiously at some of the guests. By the time he had stopped under the arch with you, there was no doubt that he was completely intoxicated. You could smell the heady sweetness of Faerie wine rolling off him.

Despite your own state, you felt a flicker of annoyance. At least you were holding it together. He looked like he was about to collapse at any moment.

The ceremony went by in a flash. There was a murmured incantation, a band of cloth that tied your hands to Pelatio’s, and some strange, heady smoke that wreathed around you. Pelatio giggled to himself throughout the ceremony, barely seeming to recognize what was happening around him. He repeated the lines when prompted, but his eyes barely seemed to see you.

There was, after the ceremony, some kind of party. You did not join in when your new husband rushed into the festivities. A few Fae slipped over to you to offer their congratulations. You smiled politely and said as little as possible. Better not to give them any ammunition to use against you.

To distract yourself, you kept your eyes on Pelatio, watching him like a hawk. He danced with as many guests as he could get in contact with, downing wine at regular intervals. If the other Faeries were surprised that he was performing some rather hands-on dances with his guests moments after being married, they didn’t say anything. You just watched him progressively get drunker and more handsy as the night went on.

It was well past midnight by the time the party broke up. This seemed to be less because people wanted to stop partying and more because Infuego was insistent on getting you to ‘your wedding night.’ They draped supported one side of Pelatio, putting you on the other, and dragged you through the house to Pelatio’s wing.

You had expected something grand and extravagant from his wing, and he lived up to it. It was completely ostentatious. Portraits and paintings with gilded frames covered nearly every square inch of the walls, stone pillars with ornate carvings were placed every few feet, and dark blue, nearly black, velvet was draped in elegant arches from the ceiling. There were tables and cases full of gold and gem-encrusted items lining the rooms. None of them seemed to have any practical purpose, so you assumed they were some sort of show of wealth.

Pelatio’s bedroom was not much different. There were less paintings, but the same blue velvet hung from the ceiling and his four-poster bed. The ceiling itself was cavernously high and painted with some sort of elaborate, glowing pattern. Three wardrobes sat at various locations around the room, each of them overflowing with silks and finery. Infuego helped you maneuver Pelatio over to his bed, where he promptly collapsed and nearly vanished into the thick sheets.

“I will see you in the morning,” Infuego said, dipping into a tiny bow. You stared as they retreated toward the door.

“You’re not staying?” you asked. Infuego lifted one of their shoulders in a small shrug.

“If someone asks me if you spent your wedding night together, I need to have plausible deniability,” they said. “I will return with breakfast.” They stepped out of the room and the door slammed shut with a ringing finality.

Pelatio groaned. You turned your attention back to him. He was still half-buried in the sheets, but he was making some feeble motions like he wanted to get up.

You allowed him to struggle for a moment before offering him your arm.

He hauled himself upright, releasing you as soon as he was standing, and swayed his way across the room. From what you could tell, he was walking straight into a wall, but there was a purpose to his steps. And if he strode face-first into hardwood, it would be the funniest thing that had happened all day.

But he did not, to your disappointment, walk into the wall. Instead, he fumbled around for a moment, patting his palms across the surface before apparently locating something. There was a soft ‘click’ and the wall swung inward. Pelatio sort of stumbled or fell after it and there was a loud banging, concluded by a noise like an entire tea set being knocked to the floor.

Well. It would probably be bad if your husband died in the same room as you on your wedding night. Cautiously, you crept after him.

It was obvious he was alive by the time you reached the doorway, because he was making strange scrabbling noises like a beetle trying to right itself. You got a rather amusing show as he struggled to get from a flat-on-his-stomach position to at least a kneeling one. It looked like he’d bumped into the table a few feet from the door and, when trying to stead himself, had grabbed the tablecloth and pulled everything on the table down on top of him.

“Are you… okay?” you asked, your tone dry and uninterested.

“Wonderful,” he groaned. “If you could just stop the boat for a minute? It’s swaying so much and I would really like to get up.”

You rolled your eyes and stepped over to him. He allowed you to brace your arms under his upper armpits and haul him upright. Once his legs were partially under him, he could manage to stand long enough to slouch into a chair and slump over with his forehead on the table.

You didn’t bother to clean up the stuff he’d knocked off the table. You just kicked up aside until it was out of the way. When you turned around again, Pelatio was looking at you, cheek still resting on the table.

“Are you going to be okay?” you asked him. He grunted and turned his head away. “Look, it’ll be a bad look for me if you die tonight, so at least make sure you’re not going to do that.”

He groaned even louder. “I am not going to die.” He sat upright, or at least, mostly upright. “I didn’t know you were so concerned.”

“I’m not. I’d just prefer to not be accused of murder,” you said.

“Hmph. As if anyone would believe that you could actually take me down,” Pelatio murmured. He massaged his forehead and temples. “You needn’t stay here. I’ll live through the night, if that’s your concern.”

You pursed your lips, not entirely sure if you believed him. Instead, you took the opportunity to look around the secret room you found yourself in. It wasn’t nearly as ostentatious as anywhere else you’d been in the manor. In fact, it was almost ridiculously simple. There was little to no decoration and the furniture seemed placed for practicality rather than any design sense. “What is this place?” you asked.

Pelatio gave you an irritated look. “My room.”

“It was hidden,” you pointed out. His look became more irritated.

“I’m not allowed to have any privacy, am I? You’re lucky I’m allowing you in here. Rarely are other Faeries allowed in this room, much less a mortal.”

“It looks different from everything else,” you stated. Pelatio gave an aggravated sigh and stood up, walking unsteadily across the room.

“Sometimes, I prefer a change of scenery,” he grumbled. “You can feel free to go back to bed.”

You lifted an eyebrow. “You’re not sleeping?”

He snorted. “I can hardly tell people I slept on my wedding night.”

“You can’t tell them we slept together, either,” you said.

“There is a lot of wiggle room. I’m sure I can come up with something convincing,” he said. “Most Fae make it a habit to not state the truth too directly. It won’t draw too much suspicion if I don’t state it outright.”

You frowned a little, but he did know more about Fae culture than you. It was likely he was right. Instead, you turned your attention to what he was actually doing. He was fussing around with some kind of board game. Your first glance over it was cursory, assuming that you wouldn’t know anything about it. Your second glance was confused and reassessing. On your third glance, you were sure.

“That’s chess.” It was a pretty nice set, too. The board was clearly made out of some fine wood, with the white squares being pale tan and the black squares a dark brown. The pieces were similarly colored and carved ornately. They appeared to be hollow, with twisting, branching lines forming their shape, like someone had painstakingly shaped them out of a bundle of twigs. A couple of them even had small leaves growing out of their tops. Other than that, it was little different from any chess set you would see in your world.

Pelatio gave it a cursory glance and lifted one of his upper shoulders in a shrug. “It’s been popular here for a while. I’m not certain if we invented it and it became popular with you or the other way around. But it’s quite common for upper nobility to know how to play matches.” His lips curled a little. “My father taught me when I was very young. It was one of the few things he actually cared to interact with me on.”

There was an uncomfortable pause. Pelatio rolled a chess piece around in one of his upper hands. His two lower hands were gripping the table so hard you were pretty sure the wood would splinter within a few moments.

“My parents taught me to play chess,” you said, mostly for something to distract him with. He lifted an eyebrow.

“Really.” His mouth split into a wide grin. “Why don’t we play a game, then? May as well have a little fun.”

His overconfidence was all but palpable. You gave a deliberately disaffected shrug. “Hardly have anything else to do.”

You settled in a seat across from him as he set up the game board. “I’ll give you white,” he said, in a tone that suggested this was the most magnanimous gesture he could think of. You nodded. “Feel free to move whenever you’d like.”

You took a pawn and set it two spaces forward. “Do you play often?”

“Sometimes,” he said, mimicking your move. “Not for some time. Rarely had the occasion.”

“Chess isn’t a popular game?” You noted a weakness around his bishop, but it was likely a trap. Instead, you moved after his knight.

“Not among my cohort,” he said. “We prefer more physical distractions.” His lips twitched into a nearly sarcastic smile as he moved a piece to threaten one of your rooks. You deftly avoided him.

“You’re skilled enough for someone who doesn’t play often,” you said after a few more minutes of play. It was a close game, but you were sweating. You’d captured three of his pieces, and while he’d managed to get four of yours, you were in a better position on the board. You worried your lip between your teeth as you cautiously moved your queen.

“My father was rather insistent on my learning,” he said. “Hours were spent in practice each day. He believed that it would hone my mind for business deals.” He toyed with a piece for a moment before moving it aggressively across the board. “I don’t think it worked, but, well, he insisted regardless.”

You considered your remaining options. There weren’t many. He’d managed to push your pieces across the board, weeding your defenses thin. The worst part was, he didn’t even seem stressed about it. His lower hands manned the board while his upper hands twisted his hair into complicated plaits and braids, undid them, then did them again.

Something moving behind him caught your eye. His tail. It was swinging back and forth, back and forth, in a slow arc. The movement was hypnotic and reminded you of an agitated cat.

You extended your hand contemplatively toward a piece and the motion caught your eye again. It was faster this time, the tip twitching wildly. You moved your hand away. The tail slowed. When your hand moved closer, the tail started to twitch again.

Huh. It took all your effort not to smile. Slowly, you shifted the piece, waiting for his tail to flick in agitation before you stopped.

Pelatio frowned at you, then glanced over his shoulder. His tail shifted, dropping out of the way as he did so. “Are you looking at something behind me?”

“No,” you lied smoothly. He frowned at you, but took it in stride regardless. Sighing, he returned his gaze to the board and considered his move before sliding another piece forward.

Even with your little trick, he was a good player, with seemingly hundreds of backup plans. Every play you made seemed to fall into another one of his traps. You gave as good as you got- every time he got one of your pieces, he would get cocky and if you capitalized on them, you could keep it roughly even.

To your immense satisfaction, the first check was yours. “Check,” you intoned as calmly as possible once your bishop was in place. Pelatio did an obvious double-take, staring at the board like it was rearranging itself.

“Fine,” he admitted after about five minutes of staring at the board and finding no way to deny the evidence. He shuffled his king to one side. “It was a very simple check. You’ll have to try harder than that.”

You bared your teeth at him. “We’ll see.”

The game ended with his two final pieces chasing your king around the board until they had him boxed into a corner. After several minutes of consideration, you realized that you couldn’t win and reluctantly tipped your king over. “Good game.”

He at least had the grace not to brag. He slumped back in his chair, arms folded over his chest. His tail drooped to the ground with a dull thud.

“You were quite skilled for a mortal,” he said, and that was about the best compliment you figured you could get from him. Slowly, he stood, flexing his arms in an overhead stretch. “And now I am going to go to bed. Feel free to take your leave whenever you wish.”

You followed him out of the room and watched as he fell face-first onto his bed. He’d shucked his outer clothes during the chess match, so he was wearing only a thin nightshirt. Apparently, he was uninterested in taking off his makeup at all. Perhaps Fae had made it so it didn’t smear on your bedsheets.

While he was facedown, you took off your own clothes and changed into a looser material for bed. It took quite a bit of scrubbing to get the makeup fully off your face, then more time to unhook the complicated clasps of the jewelry you’d been locked into.

It was nearly thirty minutes later by the time you were ready for bed, and since Pelatio hadn’t so much as twitched, you assumed he was asleep. You crept toward the door that led further into his wing. Maybe there was a nice couch you could crash on.

Just as your hand touched the doorknob, Pelatio sighed. “Where are you going?”

You whirled around. He had lifted his head and was glaring at you balefully. “I was going to find somewhere to sleep,” you said.

“Did the bed escape your notice?” he asked. “Perhaps you are far drunker than I thought.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I assumed we weren’t going to be sharing a bed.”

He sighed. “For one night. Even if we aren’t having relations, sharing the bed on the wedding night is expected.”

You looked at him for a moment. His expression was dead serious, and you assumed that his inability to lie included lying for prank purposes. After dithering for a moment, you approached the bed.

Pelatio slid obligingly out of the way as you approached. The bed was king sized, which you were grateful for. It meant that you could lie down next to each other without actually touching. Still, you kept yourself to the very edge of the bed. Pelatio had similar thoughts, pressing himself up to the furthest corner of the mattress. Unfortunately, he took all the covers with him.

In the end, you got the sheets back. Eventually Pelatio fell asleep and you retrieved the covers before managing to fall asleep yourself.

It wasn’t the best sleep you’d ever gotten- the comfort of the bed itself was balanced by the sheer discomfort of sleeping with Pelatio himself. You woke fitfully throughout the night, tried to roll over, remembered that would put you closer to Pelatio, and just stayed in the uncomfortable position you’d found yourself in.

What woke you up in the morning wasn’t a servant bringing breakfast or even sunlight coming in through the window. It was the feeling of something wrapped around your leg.

Your first thought was that it was a fucking snake, because running from home and hiding in the woods meant you had a healthy terror of those scaly bastards. Unfortunately, you’d had enough experience with handling them to know that what was around your leg felt similar, but not the same. It was smoother than scales, and far warmer. You stayed as still as possible, trying to let your sleep-addled mind catch up with what you were feeling. Not a snake, and you weren’t in the woods anyway. You were in a bed. You could hear Pelatio snoring softly. Which meant that the thing around your leg was-

Oh. Slowly, you lifted the covers and looked down at your leg to confirm. Yep. Wrapped around your calf was about half of Pelatio’s tail.

Cautiously, you lifted your head and peered at Pelatio as much as you could without moving. His back was to you, but given the slow rise and fall of his chest and the fact that he was still snoring, you assumed the tail was something he’d done unconsciously.

Your familiarity with tailed creatures was pretty minimal, and those with prehensile tails even less. Was this normal? Was he just seeking warmth? He felt warm to the touch, so he wasn’t cold-blooded. Maybe his tail just sort of had a mind of its own.

Regardless, you wanted it off your leg. It was holding on fairly tight- not tight enough to actually hurt or restrict bloodflow, but it was a little uncomfortable. Wriggling your body so as to disturb him the least, you curled up so you could reach your leg.

You’d expected to just pull the tail loose, like tugging off a piece of rope. What you hadn’t expected was that the tail didn’t want to come off.

The more you tugged at it and tried to wriggle your fingers between it and your leg, the tighter it wound. Eventually, you had to stop, lest it grow so tight that it started cutting off blood flow. Throughout the process, Pelatio didn’t so much as stir.

About thirty minutes after you’d given up, you felt Pelatio start to shift. He sighed, his tail tightening incrementally. Then he went still.

Within seconds, his tail was unwound from your leg. You felt him rise from the bed with speed, like he was trying to get away from you as fast as possible. Carefully, you peeked over your shoulder at him. His back was turned to you, but there was something in the hunch of his shoulders and the way his tail twitched that made you think he was embarrassed.

You sat up, shuffling the covers with enough noise to make him turn. His pointed ears twitched and he plucked anxiously at one of his sleeves with two hands. “You were awake?” His voice was stiff.

“Yes,” you said. “Do you, uh. Do that a lot?”

He pressed his lips together and closed his eyes for a moment. “I… do not know. I rarely share the bed with other people.”

Maybe you were imagining it, but his voice sounded ever so slightly mournful.

Luckily, that awkward moment was interrupted by Infuego entering the room. They were carrying a tray laden with golden fruits, baked goods, and cured meats. “I expect the night went well,” they said, their voice carefully neutral.

“Well enough,” Pelatio said, breezing over and snagging one of the fruits. He bit into it and a syrupy juice dripped down his chin.

“It went fine,” you said. Pelatio didn’t look at you as you got up and approached to take your own breakfast.

“Good. The business dealers from the Arient Glen will arrive tomorrow, and I’m sure they will be eager for an audience with both of you,” Infuego said. Pelatio grunted, nose wrinkling.

“I will need to prepare,” he sighed. “After we’re done here, I’ll need to call a meeting. As for you, get my spouse prepared for the meeting.”

“Prepared?” you repeated, your hand pausing over the breakfast tray.

“Don’t worry yourself,” Pelatio said, barely shrugging his upper arms. “Your part will be minimal. All I need for you to do is speak for me, and lie when the occasion calls for it. Infuego will prepare you for it.”

You frowned, but decided to ask Infuego more when you were alone later. The breakfast tray was calling your attention at the moment. Eating needed to be done cautiously in the realm of Fairies. Not all food was dangerous, but Fae paid little attention to what could cause reactions in mortals. You had to rely on your own knowledge to keep you safe.

The golden fruit was… unsettling, to say the least. It smelled rich and delicious in a way no other fruit ever had. That was usually a sign not to eat it. But the smell was also intoxicating. You needed to at least pick it up, at least breathe in a little more of that delicious smell.

The fruit gave invitingly under your fingertips. Bringing it up to your nose put it right next to your lips. It would be so easy to bite into that giving skin and flesh and taste that intoxicating juice-

“Don’t eat that.” The fruit was gone from your hand in an instant. You had to blink a couple times to shake the tail end of its hypnotism. Pelatio was holding the fruit and eyeing you critically. He placed the fruit back on the tray and gave Infuego an irritated look. “Don’t bring those around my spouse again. They’re too dangerous for mortals.”

Infuego lowered their head, gathered up the remaining fruits, and hurried out of the room. Pelatio huffed in irritation. His tail swung back and forth, whipping like an annoyed cat’s. His upper arms were folded over his chest, fingers twitching against his sleeves, and his lower hands, hanging at his sides, kept plucking at the sides of his nightshirt.

“Thank you,” you said after a moment of silence. Pelatio grunted, but you saw the tension in his shoulders dissipate ever so slightly. He let out a long sigh and his folded arms loosened.

“They make mortals lose their minds,” he said. “I need you sharp for tomorrow.”

His voice was gruff and with his head turned away from you, you couldn’t read his expression. His tail curled close to his leg and he cleared his throat. “You should eat. You’ll have a long day ahead of you.” He sighed. “We both will.”

By the time Infuego returned, you had both finished your breakfast. Pelatio was getting changed, and you were carefully avoiding looking at him. “I’ll be off,” he said as he pulled his hair into a loose tie. “Infeugo. I expect my spouse to be fully up to speed in time for the meeting tomorrow.” He turned his gaze to you. He opened his mouth like he was planning on saying something, then his expression twitched. He closed his mouth again and simply dipped his head to you before sweeping out of the room.

You stared after him until the door closed. “What’s wrong with him?”

Infuego shrugged their shoulders. “He has never been the best at understanding his own emotions. I expect he is dealing with them as best he can.”

You stared at them. “What does that mean?”

Infuego looked back at you, their expression perfectly unreadable. “It means precisely what it means. Now, you should get dressed so we can begin. We have quite a bit of work ahead of us.”

Ah, the frustrating vagueness of the Fair Folk struck once more. It was unlikely you were going to get anything else out of them. Irritated, you complied with the order to get dressed. The clothes offered were, of course, perfectly your size. You didn’t question it.

Once you were fully dressed, Infuego led you once more through the winding halls. After several turns, they opened a door into what appeared to be a small library or a large study.

It wasn’t a terribly big room, but it was decently sized. The walls were covered in bookshelves, and an enormous desk of some kind of stone sat in the middle of the room. It looked like a paper bomb had gone off in the office. Every spare surface was covered in at least an inch of paper documents. Your mouth dropped open. How did someone work like this?

Either there was a sorting system you couldn’t see or Infuego was just used to the mess, because they strode over to the desk and selected several specific documents. “These outline the basic portions of the agreement. You’ll also need to study land ownership in the Faerie Realms, and it would be good for you to have a working understanding of the legal background of contracts and deal making.”

You ended up with a towering pile of books in your arms, and that didn’t include the small mountain of documents and contracts Infuego held. “These should be enough,” they said. You gave them the best stink-eye you could around the books.

“How fast do you think humans read?” you asked. Infuego shrugged.

“We can make it an abbreviated study,” they said. “These contracts are the ones we’ll be looking over in the meeting tomorrow. Study those first, then move on to land ownership and business contracts.”

You had a background in reading contracts in the human world. Your parents had at least found it prudent to teach you about business, so you could help your husband. Unfortunately, the contracts they’d prepared you for were nothing like the contract you were looking at.

Apparently their inability to lie made the Fae want to word everything in the most confusing way possible. Every sentence had at least three different interpretations, about half the words had little footnotes attached that changed their meanings slightly, and nothing was ever stated outright. It all seemed to be based on leading the reader toward certain assumptions that were never actually stated in the contract.

Infuego seemed pleased when you mentioned that insight to them. “Yes, that is a fair assessment. Since you have that in hand, perhaps we do not need to go so in depth with contract law…”

It was nearly eight at night before Infuego determined you’d learned enough. Or maybe they had just taken pity on you. Your brain felt like it was slowly melting out your ears. “Pelatio will stop by to brief you tomorrow morning,” Infuego said as you slouched over the desk. “But for now, it is important that you get sleep. Mortals can become quite ineffective without rest.”

Why they were lecturing you about the limits of mortality, you did not know. You just let them lead you back to your room in your wing.

Dinner was some sort of sumptuous fried bread stuffed with meat and cheese, but you were so tired, you could barely taste it. You just shoved it down and collapsed face-first on the bed.

Someone was slamming on the door. It took you several minutes to realize it because the pounding initially seemed to be coming from inside your own head. For a sound that was coming from the outside, it was surprisingly well-timed with your thundering headache.

You slid out of bed and staggered your way to the door. “What?” you snarled as you opened it.

Pelatio stared back at you. He was wearing some sort of tight black outfit that was apparently designed to show off his small waist and his hair was done up in some kind of strange plait.

“You’re not ready,” he said, giving you the sort of once over you might give a rat that had just crawled out of the sewer.

“I just woke up,” you said. His frown deepened and he pushed past you into the room.

“Infuego’s been running back and forth for the past hour trying to keep our lovely business guests satisfied.” Pelatio stalked across the room to your closet and threw it open. “I though they’d had an opening to at least wake you, but I suppose not.”

Vaguely, you remembered Infuego shaking you half awake- they had left once your eyes opened and you’d rolled over and gone back to sleep. “What is going on?”

“The people we’re negotiating with arrived early. The Arient Glen,” he said. “Infuego’s keeping them occupied, but it already looks bad that you were still asleep when they got here. We’re supposed to greet them together.”

You blinked blearily at him. “Slow down. Why do we have to greet them together?”

“It’s good hospitality for both heads of house to greet guests.” He sorted through your closet and grimaced. “I thought Infuego got you good clothes. These are terrible.”

You snuck a glance at the clothes he was wearing. Despite his cinched waist, the shirt dipped around his neckline and flowed around his arms. His pants were the opposite of his shirt, about as tightly fitting as they could be. Your gaze skittered across his ass for a moment, and you were glad his tail was blocking most of it, because it was kind of distracting. If that was what he was wearing to an important meeting, you weren’t sure you wanted him to dress you.

“Here. Just… try this.” You lifted up the outfit he’d thrown at you. It had some sort of long coat with a ruffled train, pants that were only slightly looser than his, and…

“Is this a corset?” you asked, lifting it up and examining it. Pelatio gave you a ‘well duh’ look.

“Put it on,” he huffed.

You managed to squirm into the pants, but the corset gave you pause. “I’ve never worn one of these before.”

Pelatio cursed. “This is why I have servants, so they can dress people for me. Infuego should have sent one of them, not me.” You were about to tell him that he could absolutely fuck off if he wanted, but he snatched the corset out of your hands before you could. “Take your shirt off.”

You frowned, but tugged off your shirt. Pelatio grabbed your hips and spun you so your back was facing him. His lower arms remained on your hips while his upper arms fastened the corset around your waist.

“Hold still,” he grunted as he laced the corset. “You’re squirming.”

It was true. Every touch of his claws against your skin had you trying to wriggle away from him. The feeling wasn’t quite unpleasant. It was more like a gentle scratching, but every needle-sharp touch made little tingles dance across your skin. You were far too aware of the hands on your waist. They were warm, holding you with a gentle pressure that was grounding and exhilarating at the same time.

Pelatio gave a sharp tug on the laces and you yelped. “Hold still!” he grunted. His fingers tightened on your waist. You could feel his thumb tracing over your hipbone in an absent motion. “I’ve got to pull this at least mostly tight.” His hands shifted even tighter around your hips. One of his fingers rested perfectly on the seam between your pants and the corset, touching the skin directly. You were almost obsessively aware of that point of contact. You could feel your heart trying to slam its way out of your chest.

“One, two, three!” Pelatio gave another tug, then carefully tied it close. You grunted. The corset wasn’t as tight as you thought it would be, but it definitely felt secure. He released you. The place where his hands had rested on your hips tingled from the abrupt lack of contact. “Good. Put on the coat. I’ll need to do something with your hair, too.”

You tugged on a jacket while Pelatio fussed and did his best to comb out your hair. “It’s something,” he said once he’d managed to get it into some sort of style. “And this.” He thrust a necklace at you. It was designed in a similar style to your ring, with dark metal and reddish gems. Pelatio gave you a once over. His hair was sticking up, several strands having come loose from his plait.

Automatically, you reached up to try to pat it back into place. Pelatio flinched back, his arms instinctively lifting. You froze. “Uh. It’s your hair. I was just- are you okay?”

Pelatio’s skin was dark, but it wasn’t quite dark enough to hide the flush that crept up his cheeks. He patted at his plait with one of his hands while using two of his others to shoo you away. “I’m fine. Just warn me before you touch me. I don’t like being prodded out of nowhere.”

“I wasn’t going to prod you,” you muttered, but Pelatio was bristling like an angry cat and you decided not to push it.

He tugged at his hair, still shooting you irritated little glances. “You’ll have to go without breakfast. I want to get this over with as soon as possible.” He brushed down his clothes and offered you an arm. “We’ll talk as we walk.”

You rested your hand in the crook of his upper elbow. His lower arm touched your side for a moment before he retracted it like he’d been burned.

“You’ll be trying to work out the contract with their mortal representative,” he said. “It’s mostly finalized- they want a segment of mineral-rich land for mining and magic components, and we’re trying to settle a fair trade. They’re offering some services to us, as well as a segment of land near the ocean, which would be advantageous for us. The problem is, they’ve been cagy on exactly what the land contains. My people are concerned it’s damaged or dangerous in some way, and they’re attempting to foist it onto us.”

“What do you want me to do about it?” you asked. He was marching along at a steady pace and you were having to jog a little to keep up.

“Fae are not generally all that good at spotting lies,” he said. “It’s not part of our general skill set. Mortals are far more used to it than we are.”

“Okay, first off, I’m not a lie detector. Second of all, why use mortals at all? Fae can’t lie, right? Just have two Fae discuss it and then you can make sure they’re not lying.”

Pelatio stopped and turned toward you. “Obfuscation.”

“Huh?”

“It’s an obfuscation tactic. Certainly, if Fae were to discuss it, then we would know they aren’t lying. But using a mortal means you can’t be certain of the truth at all- perhaps they are lying, perhaps they are not. You might earn more trust by using a Fae, but you give up the advantage of being able to lie. Typically using a Fae as a negotiator and abruptly switching to a human is almost an admission of lying. If you always use a mortal, then the opposition has no way to know if you want to hide something or not.”

“Are we trying to hide something?” you asked.

“No. But it is an advantage I would like to keep,” Pelatio said. “And regardless, you will be better at sensing lies than any Fae I have in my employ. And having a relatively inexperienced mortal on my side may relax them and get them to slip something.” He stopped in front of a set of towering double doors.

“I’m not a negotiator,” you said. “I barely learned all that land contract stuff you threw at me yesterday.”

“You will be fine,” he said. “Just go in there, act confident, and bluff. Try to push them, then report back to me. If they start to crack, we’ll know they’re trying to hide something.”

“How do I tell if they’re cracking?” you responded in an undertone. Pelatio’s tail whipped back and forth and his grip on your arm shifted.

“You’re human. You’d know if they’re nervous better than I. Look for signs of anxiety. They’ll give you a contract. Read it carefully. If you see something, just report it back.”

You pressed your lips together and took a deep, slow breath. Nerves coiled in the pit of your stomach, sending sharp spikes of nausea through you.

Pelatio looked into your face and let out a soft sigh. “Don’t look so worried. You’ll be at an extreme disadvantage if you seem anxious.”

“I’m not doing it on purpose,” you muttered back. “It’s kind of a lot of pressure.”

Pelatio hesitated for a moment, shifting his weight between his feet. His tail swung back and forth, nearly hitting your legs. “Look,” he finally said, turning you so you were facing him. His lower hands captured your hand while his upper hands came to either side of your face. You were overly aware of how his thumbs were resting on your cheekbones. “Listen to me. You will be fine. I have not known you for long, but I know that you are clever, especially for a mortal. You are quick-witted, intelligent, and you have a far greater ability to read people then you think you do. I have faith in you and your abilities. You will be fine.”

It was the nicest thing he had ever said to you. In fact, it was the nicest thing anyone had said to you in… how long? The fact that you couldn’t remember couldn’t be a good sign. And perhaps you were better at disguising your emotions than you’d thought, because your face remained carefully neutral even as you sort of felt like you were going to cry.

“Okay,” you said after a moment. “Then let’s get this over with.”

Pelatio smiled, showing off his fangs. “Come along, then.” He took your arm in his once more and pushed open the giant double doors.

Want the next part? Click here.

#exophilia writing #monster boyfriend #fae #fae boyfriend #monster lover #monster romance #fae husband #monster husband #my writing #monster x human #male monster

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p-antomime · 3 years

Text

— minors don’t interact.

— wc: 666.

content + warnings: 18+, including: dom!hawks, somnophilia, fingering, male masturbation, theoretically mutual masturbation also, a bit of praise, nipple play, cum play.

pairings: keigo takami x fem!reader.

my kinktober list!

"I love you since this morning, not just for aesthetic, I wanna touch your body, so fucking electric."

His head felt like shards of broken glass being picked up by consciousness that was slowly being regained. From last night the only thing Hawks could remember was how much you and he had been drinking, but at what point exactly did you guys get home? Probably Dabi had used Hawks' car to drop the two of you off at his place, since leaving the two of you on your own was out of the question.

Now it was exactly November 1, the morning after Halloween and as was the Todoroki custom, there was a huge party. While you were dressed up as Cher Horowitz from Clueless, your boyfriend was Steve Harrington from Stranger Things. But there wasn't even a remnant of your respective Halloween costumes, as now, in the morning, both of you are totally naked, just a rather thin white sheet covering yours bodies.

And, well, Hawks had been awakened by some soft, low sound, but only after hearing it again did he open his eyes and look for the source of that sound. And it was you, lying next to Keigo, immersed in a deep sleep with your thighs pressing against each other and one hand clutching the sheet hard enough to make your fingertips turn white.

"Oh, my girl is so cute and dirty, perfect for me", Hawks would think as inevitably the urge to want to touch her body made itself present in his hands to the point that he felt electric waves travel down his back as soon as his fingertips brushed against his thighs to push one away from the other.

— Yes, pretty girl, let me help you. — Keigo whispered more to himself than to you, who continued to sleep peacefully, oblivious to the events outside of whatever situation was unfolding in your dreams.

Leaning over your body after leaving your legs wide open, Hawks spread your folds apart and ran his tongue over his lips as he noticed your leaking entrance, begging him to widen your walls using his cock or fingers. And soon his digits were moving in and out of you as his other hand pumped his cock up and down at a gradually faster pace, his mouth latching around your nipples and taking turns sucking, licking, and kissing each one.

The moans escaping in a ragged manner from deep in your throat were the only stimulus he needed to increase the movements inside you and on his own cock. The sweat from his forehead dropping onto the laps of your breasts because he was now staring at your face only to amplify his own fantasy of cumming in you and spoiling the angelic image you were presenting him with during that lazy morning.

At one point, Hawks had partially forgotten that the original goal was to wake you up to make you cum and then offer you a good aftercare session, but now the goal was to make him cum all over your cunt himself to make it shiny with his cum and then spread the liquid over it, although the second part of the original intention remained the same.

— Damn, I love you so fucking much. — Hawks murmured, closing his eyes and pressing his thumb over the tip of his swollen dick desperately wanting to come soon. — You'd love to know that I used your body today the way I wanted to, wouldn't you, babe?

And when you unconsciously moved up and down, trying to find a better position to continue sleeping, and inevitably rubbed your wet entrance against his cock, Keigo eventually came all over your pelvis and pussy. Yours folds now glistening from the joining of yours fluids with his. It was inevitable for Hawks to fail to stifle a loud, audible moan, throwing his head back with gasping breaths and using the tip of his cock to spread the cum over your intimacy.

#bnha smut #bnha #mha #hawks smut #hawks #takami keigo smut #keigo takami #bnha hawks #mha smut #mha hawks #kiki kinktober #kinktober #bnha kinktober #tw.somnophilia

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watanabes-cum-dump · 3 years

Text

Angst is temporary, smut is eternal

I am extremely down horrendous for the PGR boys so here are some general NSFW headcanons of them before I unleash the angst reconing when I finally have the motivation to write

Warnings: breeding kink, daddy kink, lots of mentions of children and pregnancy, creampie, stomach inflation, size kink, sex in a semi public place, petpay, some choking, somnophilia, masochism, cockwarming, sadism, some generally unhealthy behaviour, tell me if I missed one

*BY CLICKING READ MORE YOU ARE CHOOSING TO CONSUME MATURE CONTENT*

Watanabe

- Breeding man

- Also a daddy kink for obvious reasons

- So what if he can’t get you pregnant? He gets off to the idea of fucking you full of his cum, and he knows you do too

- Calls you “baby” or “baby girl/boy”

- He usually isn’t that mean, as long as you let him fill you right up he’ll let you cum as many times as you want

- Spoils you with his cock all the time, but especially if you’ve been good

- Break his rules though and he’ll punish you accordingly

- Spanking, orgasm denial, it’s all on the table so you’d better obey daddy’s rules

- Especially if you pull something in front of other people, expect to either be fucked into the bed or edged for hours on end

- “Why don’t you scream a little louder, baby? Make sure everyone knows how good daddy is making you feel”

Lee

- Now, Lee can be one of two things:

- The sweetest thing ever, making sure you feel good and being careful with you

- Or, he can be super mean and edge you until your begging and crying for release

- When he’s in the latter mood you’d better be good and do as he says lest he leave you there

- Often times he’ll have you suck him off while he digs his boot into your crotch, he loves your pathetic little whines and how you’ll swallow every little drop

- Calls you his slut/whore

- Will fuck you in front of a mirror and makes you look at your fucked out face while he stuffs his cock into you

- Wear his jacket and it’s all over

- You won’t be walking for a while

- There are rare times when he just goes feral and just uses you like a cocksleeve

- “Ah look at you, taking me in so well like a common whore. Is that what you are, commandant? A cute little cum dump for me?”

Kamui

- Spoils you silly with his cock

- Of course this cute little retriver will let you do anything you want to him too

- He is a switch after all, though he does lean towards being a bottom

- Slap him, choke him, be rough with him he doesn’t care

- He can take it, he just wants you to feel good

- If you’ll let him, he’ll fuck you for hours on end, make you cum as many times as you want

- You want him to speed up? Sure thing. Want another orgasm? How about three?

- But if there’s one thing he loves it’s the risk of getting caught

- He’ll be under your desk in your office, where anyone could walk in, sucking you off/eating out your pussy while you tease him

- Loves it when you wear his clothes too, especially if it’s just his jacket that’s too big for you while you don’t wear any underwear

- He likes to put his hand on your stomach because his cock makes a cute lil’ bulge

- Loves it if there’s a size difference

- “How am I doing, commandant?”

Camu

- The muzzle stays on during sex

- Into petplay and a size difference

- Definitely likes leashes

- Loves it when you ride him while you tug on his leash. You swear you hear him growl through his muzzle as you bounce up and down on him

- Either grips your thighs or puts a hand where there’s a little bulge from his massive cock

- When he’s in charge though, boy things get rough

- Camu likes to pull the leash so hard that it’s choking you while he plows into you

- He’s like an animal in heat, fucking you until you both pass out

- You won’t be walking for a while

- You don’t really get to have a say in when you guys do it, he’ll pull you aside at random times and just go at it in some random storage room or even at HQ when anyone could walk in

- Don’t worry, he’ll make quick work of you so that you can both return to work

- “You’ll keep my cum in that cute little hole of yours, right babe?”

Chrome

- Vanilla bitch :/

- Very romantic and sweet at least

- Unless you do something about it, he’ll just be sort of plain

- Chrome likes it when you’re in charge, if you choose to be mean he’ll like it even more

- Really flustered at first but the more you do it the more he’s acting like a fucking slut for you

- Sometimes he’ll get all needy and bother you until you put him in his place

- Likes oral, giving or receiving but especially giving

- If you ever get impatient, just tug his hair a bit

- Seeing the usually calm and collected captain of Strike Hawk made a little whore for you is such a pretty sight.

- Gets all whiny when you don’t let him cum

- What a fucking brat

- Why don’t you teach him a lesson?

- “Commandant, I’ve been good... promise”

Banji

(idk if it’s banji or wanshi but the wiki says banji so...)

- Somnophilia, consented of course (come on you all saw that coming)

- Also fucking your thighs

- Service top

- Likes it when you tug his hair a bit

- Ride him while he’s a bit sleepy, that will wake him right up

- Cock warming while you two fall asleep

- Lots of wet dreams about you, don’t be afraid to wake him up with a blowjob if you hear him moaning your name in his sleep

- “Mmmm... that feels nice commandant. Could you wake me up like that more often?”

Roland (pre fake ascension or whenever he becomes recruitable ig)

- Will fuck you in abandoned places

- Especially if there are corrupted nearby

- Tells you to stay quiet unless you want the corrupted to find you

- Teases you about not being able to keep your hands off him

- Also one to edge you

- Likes it when you cry, either from too many orgasms or lack thereof

- Likes to cum all over you face, teases you to make sure to get it all off before you go back to your squad

- Gets off to the idea of someone from Babylonia seeing the proud commandant of Gray Raven getting bent over by an ascendant

- Stalks you and pulls you aside on missions with other constructs for a quick fuck

- Especially if he thinks you’re getting a little too comfortable with someone

- Your his pathetic little cum slut, no one else gets to have you

- “Yeah, like that commandant? Could that blonde fuck with the guns fuck you like I do? Huh? I can’t hear you baby, was that a yes? Do I not fuck you well enough?”

#i'm sorry i had like nothing for banji #pgr #punishing gray raven #pgr smut #pgr x reader #punishing gray raven x reader #lee x reader #watanabe x reader #kamui x reader #roland x reader #chrome x reader #banji x reader #wanshi x reader #camu x reader #pgr camu #pgr kamui #pgr lee #pgr roland #pgr chrome

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shoutaaizawas · 4 years

Text

↳ keigo takami x fem!reader → ❝preening❞

summary: hawks loves your hair, playing with it, brushing it, washing it. you realize that it comes from another instinctual nature of his. you try to figure out how to return the gesture. word count: 2k+ tags/warnings: fluff, bird terminology, hawks being a birdman again a/n: i don’t know much about birds but i’ll sure act like i do. this is sort of a sequel to shiny things but can be read alone

masterlist

Hawks was obsessed with your hair.

When you convinced him to take a lazy day off you would lay on your couch and watch movies together, your head resting on his lap. Without a doubt his hand was always in your hair, brushing through it and braiding and upbraiding your hair. It was hard to focus on what you were watching not that you minded. You’d much rather give your attention to your boyfriend.

At night when you laid your head on his chest, he would always run his hand through your hair, nails gently scratching across your scalp. You always let out a sigh of content. It was impossible not to fall asleep when he did that

Anytime he caught you brushing his hair he would insist he does it for you and would offer to do your hair for you. Was he good at doing your hair? No. But in his defense, he tried his best and was getting better every time. It didn’t stop you from wearing said hairstyles out in public. The way he looked at you, so happy that you wore his work out in public more than made up for some of the odd looks you got.

When you had a bad flu Hawks was there for you to take care of you even though you insisted that he stay away for his own good but he refused. He brought you medicine, kept you fed (not his cooking, he couldn’t cook to save his life), kept you hydrated and pretty much waited on you hand and foot. He had even washed your hair for you. You were so exhausted you couldn’t bring yourself to do it but Hawks was more than happy to help out. The way he worked the shampoo into your hair was amazing. You were starting to think he was in the wrong career. It didn’t escape you that he enjoyed it too and since then he offered to wash your hair for you.

You should have realized sooner what the reasoning behind it was. You had been at a pet store to pick up food for your friend who was too bust to run by herself. It was hard not to get distracted by all the cute animals. The cockatiels caught your attention, one playing with a toy in the cage. It was hard not to think of your boyfriend when you saw any sort of bird.

But what caught your attention more was the two birds perched beside each other preening each other. It was so cute to watch and it took a few moments before it clicked in your head.

Oh.

Had Hawks obsession with your hair stemmed from an instinctual need to preen? It wouldn’t be his first bird trait you had discovered. How had you not realized sooner?

“They’re so cute aren’t they.” Looking up you saw the storekeeper standing there looking at the pair of birds. “They just preen each other all day it’s the cutest thing, they love each other.”

“They’re adorable.” You agreed to smile at her. “Is there a reason they do it?”

“Those two are mates, it’s part of the courting ritual but they still do it to show affection to each other.” She explained.

“Aww,” You cooed but you were trying to process it all in regards to Hawks. As you checked out and headed to your friends to drop the pet food off for her your mind was racing. Hawks played with your hair, braided it, washed it to show affection in his own way. That warmed your heart. Keigo never ceased to make you feel like the most loved person on Earth.

But you were concerned. Should you return the favor? Was it offensive that you hadn’t? Had you made him feel unloved? Sure, you loved running your hands through his hair but you didn’t do it as often as he did. Or should you preen his wings? Would that make him uncomfortable?

Sighing you figured you’d leave the subject for later, there was only so much you could accomplish right now. You would have to spend more thinking about it.

The conclusion you came to was that you should return the gesture. You hadn’t quite figured out how you would do that but you thought that then you would see an opportunity arise eventually.

Eventually came a lot sooner than expected. The day had come to an end and you were headed over to Hawk’s place to surprise him by making dinner. You knew he was home he had text you when he got off patrol. It was a surprisingly short day for him.

You had the key to his place so you let yourself in, placing the groceries in the kitchen. Looking around you didn’t see Keigo anywhere. A noise from the master bathroom alerted you to where he was. Walking in you hadn’t expected the scene in front of you.

Hawks sat perched on the edge of the tub, wings spread out his torso turned and hands moving through his bright red feathers. Well normally they were bright red, at the moment they were covered in mud. Keigo turned and looked at you like a kid with their hand in the cookie jar.

“Kei?” You questioned.

“Uhh, hey sweetie.” He said flashing you an innocent smile, wings fluttering but didn’t have much movement with all of the mud on them. “What are you doing here?”

“I was going to make you dinner as a surprise.” You said staring at his wings, the feathers were sticking in different places in some areas. “What happened here?”

“Oh, it’s a long story. The short version is there was an incident with a mud puddle.” He said sheepishly.

“Looks like the mud puddle won that fight.” You teased. “How did that happen?”

“Villain in the park. The rain left it pretty messy out there.” He explained.

“Poor thing.” You said walking towards him. Standing over him you took his face in your hands.

“You can start dinner if you want while I finish up here.” He said looking up at you with soft eyes.

An idea popped in your head. This was finally the time.

“Can I help?” You questioned.

A look of surprise covered his face along with a light blush.

“You don’t have to-” He started but you wouldn’t have it.

“I want to if that’s okay with you.” You questioned. You knew that his wings were sensitive. You had avoided touching them too much not wanting to bother him. There was a chance he might be uncomfortable at the idea of you touching his wings.

You couldn't lie you loved his wings. They were so stunning, so unique. You could never look away and you had thought about running your hands through them more than you'd like to admit, learning every edge and curve of them.

“I don’t mind.” He said scooting over making space for you. Before you joined him you grabbed some clean washcloths before running some warm water in the bath. Sitting down you straddled the edge of the tub, one foot in the water and the other on solid ground.

With his wings over the tub, you wet the washcloth and held it looking at the brilliant wings in front of you debating where to start. It made the most sense to start at the top and work your way down.

Smoothing the cloth over the patagium, had you done a lot of research on the terminology of birds wings? Yes, your boyfriend had wings what else were you supposed to do? It was just a really just a fancy word for the skin that covered the top of his wings.

“Is this okay?” You asked. You could feel how tense Keigo was in front of you, you hoped you weren’t doing this wrong.

“More than okay.” He said letting out a sigh. “I’m just not used to anyone touching my wings.”

The mud there was mostly dried at the base of his wings and it took a few attempts to get it to loosen up. There was some mud that was especially stuck in his feathers, you applied a little more pressure earning a groan from your boyfriend.

“I’m sorry,” You said pulling your hand back.

“Don’t be that felt amazing.” He hummed. He was starting to loosen up and feel more relaxed now.

You cleaned down the wrist of his wings and to the wingtip, once the top of his wings was cleaned you moved through the layers of coverts down to his secondary feathers. It was nice running the cloth through his beautiful feathers. As more mud was gone you let go of the cloth and used your hands to brush out the rest of the dirt. You were amazed by how soft his feathers were. Right now you would never think that they would be able to become so strong and dangerous. By the time you had almost cleaned off all of the mud, Keigo was nearly leaning on you.

“That feels nice, pretty bird?” You teased looking down at him as he rested the back of his head against your chest.

The last thing you expected as an answer was the soft coo that came from him.

Keigo’s eyes shot open and his face turned red with embarrassment as he covered his mouth.

“Was that?” You questioned but he cut you off.

“Please pretend that didn’t happen.” He said covering his face.

“How am I supposed to forget the cutest thing I’ve ever heard?”

“Stop teasing me.” He whined.

“I’m really not for once.” You said your hand covering one of his on his face, smoothing your thumb over his skin. “That was adorable. I didn’t know you could make noises like that.”

“I don’t usually.” He sighed, moving his hands. He sat up looked at you but kept your hand on his. “I used to do it as a kid when I got excited or if I was really comfortable. It’s so embarrassing I learned how to stop but I guess it just slipped out.”

“I love it.” You said you wouldn’t let your boyfriend feel bad for doing something that was natural to him. “Don’t ever feel embarrassed to do it around me.”

Keigo smiled at you, not a cocky smirk or one of excitement. It was gentle and soft, it made you feel like you were wrapped up in his arms.

“C’mon, let me help you dry them off.” You said standing up and grabbing a towel before sitting down on his bed. He followed sitting in front of you. In all truth, Hawks probably could have shaken his wing and had them dry in a moment but you weren’t trying to let this moment end. And you could bet that he was thinking the same thing. It never ceased to amaze you how something so simple could make you feel so much closer to someone.

His feathers dried fast and once they did you reluctantly put the towel aside ready to tell him you were done but he spoke before you could.

“Do you think you could-” He stopped for a moment before speaking again. “Uh, run your fingers through my feathers for a while?”

It was so rare to see Hawks anything but sure of himself. It was something you cherished, the thought that you could have an effect on him like that. Not to mention it only felt fair considering all the times he made you flustered.

“Of course, baby.” You said smiling at him softly. “Come here”

Laying down Keigo followed you, his body over yours. Resting his head against your chest he let out a sigh before you even touched his wings. His wings folded against his back. You wrapped your arms around his neck, hands reaching for the top half of his wings.

It was relaxing to run your hands through the way too soft feathers. You wondered if he used conditioner for them.

“I love you so much.” He sighed against your skin.

For Keigo, this had been the last thing he expected. He wouldn't lie and say that he never thought of asking you to help him clean his wings or even just run your hands through them. He thought about it a lot. More than he'd like to admit. But he was always so nervous that you wouldn't want to, or worse that his wings weirded you out. It's not like it was normal.

This small gesture had meant far more than you probably even understood. Not only was it a way for the two of you to grow even closer but it fulfilled the care that had never received as a child. His own parents had given him up and things had only gotten worse from there. He never had someone take care of him.

But now he had you and he promised himself he would do anything for you.

“I love you too, Kei.” Your heart never failed to flutter at those words.

You continued the gentle motion, hands brushing over the red feathers and at times between them. His wings relaxed and rested against him. It didn’t take long for the soft cooing sound you heard era lier to return. It was overwhelming the amount of emotion that flooded through you knowing that he trusted you that much.

Laying there with his weight and warmth against you along with the sound of his quiet coos it was hard not to get tired. His arms wrapped around you holding you close.

“I think we might need to order take out.” He mumbled against you, you could practically feel his smirk.

“Mmhm.” You hummed in reply. Food was the last thing on your mind. All you wanted to do was lay here with your boyfriend and never move again. A late nap sounded perfect. If you woke up at once in the morning and had to make a chicken nugget run, it would be a small price to pay to stay here with him and rest.

taglist: @sugarmaplewings-fics @lilkiwisfinest @ewwis @kandy1410@moonlightaangel @winnies-headcannons @bakugousidehoe@paintedr0ses1 @toobsessedsstuff @spellboundxizi@ourladyofseijoh @x0doodlebug0x @katsushimaa @mooncademia

#hawks x reader #keigo tamaki x reader #keigo x reader #hawks #keigo #keigo tamaki #bnha #mha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #my writing

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keilemlucent · 3 years

Text

mean to me

( r18+)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

word count: ~3.5k

daddy’s a bit mean

warnings: daddy kink, light bdsm in terms of dynamics, use of a safeword, spanking, light degradation, choking, a smidge of age play, subspace, aftercare

...

oh, more daddy kink brain rot? nice. have a little snack, loves 💕enjoy!!

...

Keigo owned you, passively and completely.

His hands settled on your hips far too easily, like they were made to lay along the curves of flesh. There might as well have been imprints of his slender fingers with the way they squeezed and held you as often as they did. You weren’t made in your shape for him, but rather he worked you into whatever form he wished.

You loved every moment of it, love him.

Sat up in his lap with Keigo was upright as well, his wings remained tense and flattened against the headboard. They twitched every so often as your cunt fluttered around his cock, but his resolve remained firm and he remained largely still.

“K-Keigo, please—“ Your voice wobbled as your fingernails dug into his shoulder.

He quieted you with a slap to your thigh.

“You can’t expect me to give in if you don’t even speak to me proper, right, little bird?” Keigo was obviously being harsh, this was a ‘punishment’ after all. Though, in many ways, it was more of a test of will for the both of you.

Keigo showed his own exertion and restraint on every facet of him.

His muscles were bunched, poised and more than ready to pound you into oblivion (If only you’d been good that evening, but you hadn’t, hence why you were in the situation that you were).

His expression was desperate, but still so fucking smug. The quirk in his swear-coated brow spoke volumes about how smitten he was to keep you wanting and warm around his cock.

“You’re mean,” You tried to spit, but it left you as more of a whine.

“Am I?” Keigo raised an eyebrow, tapping your cheek with a single finger, “I think you’ve earned this treatment.”

You definitely did, but you wouldn’t admit that to him.

Your thoughts had wandered all throughout the day to him, and it was only natural that you sent him at least a dozen very whorish photos of yourself in the new, big mirror Keigo had purchased for the two of you.

(Specifically for ‘fucking’ reason, but once again, besides the point.)

You sort of did deserve to be teased. The pictures were meant to work him up, but you hardly expected the treatment you were receiving.

There was a wordless, nagging ledge in the back of your skull that kept you from finding a more comfortable, softened headspace, leading to any number of slipups.

Namely, referring to Keigo by his name and not the title he loved to brandish.

“I’m sorry—“You started to say before Keigo moved his slender finger to your lips, slipping the digit into your mouth and pressing down on the flat of your tongue.

He went far enough back to gag you, tears welling at the corners of your eyes.

“‘I’m sorry’,” He mimicked, rolling his eyes before giving your cheek a few forceful pats. “Not gonna cut it. Apologies need to be genuine.”

He rubbed just below your eyes, smearing away any wetness and giving you a sinful grin, “You can’t just be a crybaby and expect me to give in. That’s not how this works.”

Sometimes, it did, notably. Keigo would crack on plenty of days if you got weepy, the reason didn’t matter too much. He only liked seeing you hurt if he had full control of the situation and could drag you back easily.

Your tears only egging on his insults. You tried to ignore the burning in your nose, sucking down any potential cries welling up in your throat.

You must’ve looked pitiful.

And Keigo must’ve loved it.

He was clearly in a particularly nasty mood, a bit more vindictive than a normal night. Less softened and crueler.

A normal punishment would’ve been pulling you over his knee for a tender lesson that involved turning your ass hot and red. Maybe a bit of writing lines, a dash of extra chores (in that sinfully short and ruffled apron Keigo purchased for you) while he supervised and directed you as needed.

He’d never simply sat you on his cock and refused to move or let you move.

It felt a bit odd in your gut.

If your mind had fallen deeper, you would’ve enjoyed this more. If your psyche had been floating as you both liked, his cruel words would’ve felt so fucking good, but at this point, you felt nothing but burning shame as you tried to hold yourself together beneath his words.

Keigo noticed to some degree. He was so tuned to you and your body and expression, he could write a damn novel on the way each angle of your lips and crinkle of your eyes meant a different complex emotion.

And you had no doubt he could see you struggling with this punishment more than normal.

You shifted your knees, trying to ease the ache of your burning thighs. It earned you a hard slap to your ass, one with enough force that Keigo had to brace your waist to keep you upright.

“Behave,“ He warned, pulling his fingers from your lips to smear spit on your inner thighs, close enough to your pussy to make your breath hitch.

You should’ve known not to try and defend yourself, “I wasn’t gonna—”

“Nope, stop whining,” Keigo gave your thighs a series of sharp pinches and twists. “None of that, you aren’t getting shit.”

Keigo was being mean.

So mean, it made your chest hurt.

Maybe you were slipping deeper, maybe not to the right place, as your head fell forward to his shoulder, a little weak attempt at hiding your budding, fatter tears.

“P-please be nice,” Your whispered, hardly audible. “Please.”

Keigo clicked his tongue, slapping your already reddened ass, “Do you think you deserve me being ‘nice’?”

“I—“

You didn’t get a chance to answer as Keigo delivered a quick succession of spanks, all of which had you tensing around his cock and clutching at him and the headboard. Little cries and wails slipped from your slip-slicked lips, all falling on what you assumed were unhearing ears.

“You don’t deserve anything but this, little bird,” Keigo hummed. He punctuated his words with another stroke. “You just love being a little cocktease, isn’t this what you wanted? Sitting on my dick and having your fill?”

No, this wasn’t. You thought the handful of pictures you sent him, draped in one of his own shirts, would get you ponded into the mattress, not held on his cock without a hint of agency or kindness.

Tears leaked from your eyes, even as you tried to wipe them away as fast as you could manage.

His hand reared back, poised for another spank—

And you hurriedly gave him two firm and clear taps to his shoulder, “S-sunset, sunset.”

He froze mid-motion.

“D-daddy, I’m s-sorry,“ You clung to his shoulder and rocked yourself. “It doesn’t f-feel good.”

You felt him take a few measured breaths, hand returning to your hips to press into any knots he could find. The deep inhales were surely meant to calm him from his own high.

His entire mood shifted nearly instantly. Keigo jolted to rub at your lower back, up and down your spine.

“No need to be sorry, dove,” He whispered, pressing a few kisses to the side of your head. “I’ve got you. Do you want to lay down?”

You shook your head, laying your hands over his, pressing them into your hips more firmly.

Keigo sweetened, even more, expression creasing with concern, “Can you tell me what doesn’t feel good?”

“U-um,” You swallowed, withdrawing from the safety of his neck to meet his gaze. His pretty ambers were sharp, watchful, and immediately tender as they met your own. You licked your lips nervously, trying to find proper words, “Doesn’t feel... normal.”

“Does something hurt?” Keigo inquired, tucking some sweat-matted hair behind your ears. He dropped a few kisses around your face, stilling your both as was needed.

You shook your head.

“Not the right headspace?” Keigo asked, catching on quickly and speaking softly.

You nodded, pressing your nose to his cheek, “Uh-huh.”

Keigo knew you better than you knew yourself in moments like this.

“I see why you didn’t appreciate me being so mean,” Keigo clicked his tongue, smoothing a hand over your naked waist. “I’m sorry, little bird. Do you want to stop, or do you want me to help you?”

You thought for a moment, worrying your bottom lip.

“Can you h-help, daddy?” You kept your words as soft as you could. “I-I’ll be good this time, promise.”

Keigo practically purred, content either way, but happy to help you settle. This was as much for you as it was for him.

“You’re already good,” He shifted beneath you, some of his own bound up tension releasing, “Of course, little bird. I’ve got you now.”

There was an unspoken apology in words, one that was felt a moment later, as he pressed his lips to your, cupping your jaw with tender hands.

His thumbs wiped away any residual tears as you pressed closer, burying your hands in his hair. His feathers shifted and rippled nearby, his cock twitching inside you.

“You hold on good to me, okay?” He murmured against your lips, holding you close as you massaged through his blonde waves. “Nice and tight, perfect.”

You nodded as if you’d ever let go.

Carefully, he repositioned the two of you. Your shaking thighs were given rest as he tipped you onto your back, helping you flatten atop the sheets. His cock remained buried, still hard, and somehow, Keigo’s will to not rail you remained intact.

It was surprising, given how impulsive he was so often was.

Then again, Keigo liked doing this, liked holding you close and tender while stroking the part of your mind that needed to feel smaller, weaker, and taken care of well and thoroughly. In turn, you held the part of his mind that desperately couldn’t stop taking care of others, that self-sacrificial nature that needed an outlet that was healthier than throwing himself at the evils of the world without pause.

In the cultivated home you two had made, you cared for each other how the other needed.

“Here’s what I’m thinking,” Keigo hummed, hovering over you, splaying your legs out with wide palms. “You’re gonna listen really well, and I’ll let you have my cock like I’m sure you want, understand?”

You nodded, trying to muster up some self-confidence.

Keigo looked smitten with himself once more, though his features and poise were slack and gentle. Any of his earlier meanness had dissolved, tucked away for another night where you both could handle it.

He nosed against your cheek, dragging his lips across your jaw to the shell of your ear. His hand drifted over your navel, higher to tease your yummy and then to your tits, twisting a nipple before he delicately laid his fingers, one by one, around your throat.

He gave a preliminary squeeze, watching your reaction.

You swallowed around his hold, taking a shaking breath at the pressure.

“Does this feel nice, little bird?”

“Uh-huh,” You nodded, his hold tightening a moment later.

“Good, perfect,” Keigo grinned against your skin and nipped at your ear. “You’re doing so well.”

The simple praise made you shudder.

Keigo pressed his lips to your own, holding around your throat firmly and unwavering, throat, applying pressure just right to make your head spin.

The moment he pulled away, eyes shining, he let up.

You took sucked in a quick inhale, just before he kissed you again, repeating the pattern. Mounting, delicious pressure on your throat with each kiss, with just a moment or two or reprieve that he gave you.

It sank you perfectly.

He kept at it, dragging you to arch underneath him with just kisses and tongue, pulling your breath from you with his hands and his own quiet groans.

If you tried to chase his lips, he easily pushed you back into the sheets, bearing down on you with the weight of his chest, wings fluffing up and fluttering. A quick nip or two had you lax into the mattress within moments.

It was all so perfectly enough, your head spinning with each of his touches.

And finally, he pulled away, both of your lips kiss-bitten and pupils wide and black.

“There we go,” He stroked the side of your face, kissing down your neck to your collarbones. “A little bit mean, a little bit nice. You did so well— such a good girl.“

The praise made your cunt tense, fingers curling at the base of his wings.

Keigo looked equally as content as you. He wanted to see you slip and puddle beneath him. As much as he still had a mean streak for the day, he could channel it elsewhere, pepper it in as needed. Not teasing you at all would be sin.

“C-can I have your cock now?” You asked, voice high and sweet. Your gaze was reverence itself, all for him.

Keigo chuckled, rolling his hips just the /slightest/ bit, “You’ve got it already, greedy girl.”

Your frowned, eyes already growing wet, “That’s not w-what I mean.”

“That’s too bad,” Keigo sighed, rubbing little circles along your hips. “Guess this is all you’re getting.”

“N-no!” Your voice almost broke as you tried to tug him closer. “I want you to be fuck me, p-please, I’ll do whatever you ask!”

“You should already be doing that,” Keigo snorted, stilling any movement. “I don’t know if you really want it.”

Of course, he knew how much you craved him, he could see it in every twitch and desperate whimper that got caught in the back on the back of your tongue.

“I do!“ You tried to move your hips against his own, but he held them flat and steady. “Please, please, please—“

Keigo paused, tilting his head slowly and regarding you with pensive eyes.

You reached out for his wrist, pulling it to your lips to lay gentle kiss after kiss over the skin. The touch, no matter the setting, always had him shuddering. Keigo was a whore for many things, but genuine, heartfelt affection was reliably near the top of the list.

Still—

“Bribery?” He snorted. “Cute.”

You were getting desperate. Tears started to leak from you once more, sobs held themselves in the back of your throat. The stretch of your cunt had started to burn. The lack of touch anywhere near your sex made you so needy, it hurt.

“D-daddy, please—!”

And you started babbling.

It was Keigo’s favorite thing to see you so desperate and wanting that you lost the ability to have coherent thought beyond wanting him in the rawest and unbridled way.

Your words were dribble. Pleads and begging that your floating little mind drew up without pause. Details and filth that he’d coaxed from you so well, he couldn’t help but be burningly proud. Each word was so shameless, it made Keigo’s his split into a cocky smile.

Losing yourself beneath him, good and proper. And you hadn’t even been fucked yet.

“There we go,” Keigo hummed, groaning as he fucked into you once, hard and deep to where the top of his cock brushed against your deepest parts. “Let go for me, little bird. Daddy’s got you.”

And he did—

And you knew it.

And so with the next slam of his cock into your cunt, you let your eyes roll back into your head and be enveloped by sensation. Heat buried in your yummy, slick dripping from his cock, sticky the skin that was shared between the two of you.

You both dissolved into the other.

Keigo didn’t hold back, all of that pent up stress and anger projected into the cant of his hips, the grip that bruised your hips, and the way his wings arched and stretched to the ceiling.

He muttered to you and himself, cursing with each thrust about how much he ‘deserved to have your tight little cunt—his tight cunt however he wanted’. About how your body and all its curves and features were ‘his, only his’ and he could fuck you in and fuck you up in whatever way he pleased.

Each dripped word pushed you hotter and hotter.

You drowned so pleasantly in his words as your peak snuck to hit you hard and fast.

You were so pleasantly high on him and his words and body, you didn’t notice his hand slipping between your bodies, hiking your legs over his shoulder in one motion, and circling and tugging on your clit the next.

Keigo might have commanded you to come, you couldn’t tell. The moment he gave your clit the slightest cruel twist, sweet pain igniting, your vision went white and you wailed.

Your nails dug into the base of Keigo’s wings, pushing him over the edge in the same breath as you. He cursed, loud and breaking as his arms collapsed on either side of your head.

He didn’t fuck you through his own orgasm, just pressed the tip of his cock to your womb and circled your clit as you twitched and cried, all for him.

And things stilled.

Your legs were lowered, your gooey mind understood. You pawed at the wetness on your face, a mix of tears and dripped sweat between the two of you.

As Keigo slipped out of you, after so long, you hissed, cunt sore and thighs aching.

“H-hurts,” You murmured, tugging Keigo closer, though he’d hardly gone ar.

Keigo hushed you, stealing a kiss or two before rolling sideways onto the sticky sheets, tugging you to his chest.

His hand slipped between your legs, pushing a bit of leaking cum back into your sore cunt, as he so often did after stuffing you so full. Kindly, he rubbed at your thighs, any of his earlier snark gone.

“Does this feel better?” He smiled into your hair, you could feel it.

You made a noise of affirmation, all you could muster, and leaned into Keigo, properly sated.

Your eyes went half-lidded, exhaustion and euphoria holding you equally. After the teasing and torture you’d endured on Keigo’s cock, you imagined you’d be walking oddly for at least a day, and sore for a few more.

You frowned, Keigo beaming you a smug smile and tugging you closer, “Something wrong, little bird.”

“D-daddy,” You huffed, patting his chest weakly. “You were so mean!”

“And you,” Keigo tapped the tip of your nose, “did a perfect job at telling me it was too much and didn’t feel good. I’m so proud, you do so good for me.”

Part of you wanted to be a brat with him, puff and sulk a bit more, but you couldn’t muster up the will. Keigo knew that praise made you the sweetest and happiest you could be and consider how he had struck a few nerves, enough to make you light-safeword, you deserved it all.

You grumbled in the back of your throat and buried your face in his chest.

“Will a nice massage and a warm shower make it up to you?” Keigo asked, the pads of his fingers flitting down your spine, less for comfort and more for looking for any visible bruises or scratches.

“Almost,” You sniffled. “Can we watch a m-movie too? I can make tea.”

“That’s a given, we can snuggle all night, little bird, I’d like that very much,” Keigo sighed with his own contentment. “And I’ll make tea too.”

You let out your own trail of high laughter as Keigo peppered kisses wherever he could, heaping you with sweetness as his wings, still trembling from orgasm, fluttered with his happiness.

“I can pick you out a nice, comfy outfit— maybe those cute, toasty stockings you like so much,” Keigo knew how to stroke the most melted and small parts of your mind, so well. You fell into his offer and kisses with a smile.

“Your favorite stockings? The knit ones?” You teased, nipping at his jaw, and letting your own touch drift and linger around the tender flesh where the base of his wings met the muscles around his spine.

(Keigo wouldn’t admit it to many, but they ached most days. His body, though trained immaculately, wasn’t truly meant to bear the weight it did.)

(But, you were happy to lift some his own burdens.”

You massaged the flesh, touch firm even through Keigo’s initial arch and startled jolt.

“Can I rub some of that oil on these too?” You murmured, tangling your sweaty legs together. “You’ve been working too hard lately, daddy. They’ve gotta hurt.”

“Hm,” Keigo cupped your jaw, drawing your face away to nuzzle your noses together, something warm and so precious, you only saw it in his most comfortable moments. “Aren’t I supposed to be taking care of you?”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t help,” You wanted to, you liked to, and you liked seeing daddy— Keigo, relax after scenes, sessions, and long days. “Please?”

“Of course, dove,” Keigo’s eyes crinkled at the corners, with a smile all for the two of you. “Let’s lay for a little longer, alright?”

His touch, honeyed and kind without a hint of teasing, drifted to the lowest part of your back, finding the roots of your tension and tending to them, as you tended to his.

You were happy to tangle with him, content and intertwined.

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thank you for reading!! 💕

ko-fi

#salem writes #tw daddy kink #hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #hawks #takami keigo #mha imagines #hawks x you #no one is surprised #enjoy loves 💕

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