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akaridream · 1 year

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after dark pt. 1: meeting (hawks x reader)

synopsis: hawks needs help with an investigation, and your owl quirk is perfect for the job. the hero known for moving too fast pushes you to the edge. will you cling to it, or allow yourself to fall?

tags: hawks x reader

cw: eventual smut, cursing, hawks is a flirt, afab reader, mentions of drugs/alcohol

masterlist

“Sorry, but I’m really not interested in working with a hero agency,” you said into your office phone wedged between your ear and shoulder.

“Technically, this is my own venture, completely unassociated with my agency,” the caller said. You folded your arms over your chest and rolled your eyes.

“But you said you’re a pro hero, right? And you basically want to investigate a private matter with me? That’s really not something I’m interested in. I work best alone.” Your eyes scanned over your computer calendar. Yes, you were available for the next three weeks, and your book was unlikely to fill, but as a private investigator, working with a pro hero was a liability.

“Just let me explain the situation to you. I’m sure you’ll be interested.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Look, I keep a low profile and I like it that way. I’m sure there are other investigators who’d love-”

“But I want you. Your quirk would be perfect for the job, and based on some of the cases you’ve taken on in the past, I think this would be right up your alley.”

Your body went rigid and your wings fluffed. “My quirk? Wait, who is this? And how did you find my agency?”

“I’ll be at your office within the hour to discuss the details in person. See you then!”

“Now hold on just a second!” The call disconnected. You blew a puff of air through your nose and rolled your leather chair away from your desk. How the hell does he even know who I am? Or where my office is? That’s not publicly available information!

You wrapped your wings tightly around you like a security blanket, running your fingers through their dense black and white fibers. You closed your eyes, allowing the sensation to soothe your frustration. I don’t care if he does show up in person. I’ll just say no. There is no way I’m working with some pretentious, paragon-of-justice pro hero on anything, let alone surveillance. He’s probably some pushy know-it-all, like they all are.

From your top drawer, you selected an invigorating peppermint oil blend for your diffuser. You slipped out of your fluffy white slippers and returned them to their home under your fancy glass desk. Reluctantly, you flipped on the fluorescent overhead light and put on your smart black pumps, trying to ignore the irritating buzz of the light. Though you enjoyed the dim lighting your floor lamp and matching desk lamp provided, your guest might find your cave-like office creepy. You unlocked the all-glass door and stared down the hall. All but one of the neighboring suites’ lights were off for the weekend. It was already 5:30 pm.

It wasn’t like you minded working late in the day. One of the many perks of owning your own business was setting your own hours. You often did surveillance well into the evening, relying on your owl-like tendencies to adjust to a nocturnal state. Your subjects did dark things in the cover of night, when you were at your prime. Many cheating lovers had fallen prey to your prying eyes and telephoto lens. Corrupt businessmen had their shady dealings exposed thanks to your watchful gaze, and it had only been a year since starting your solo venture.

You sighed and plopped down on the plush leather love seat in the corner of your office, resting your chin in your hands. Normally, your one-room office was sanctuary. The warm lighting, your favorite scents, the sleek furniture you could barely afford, it all felt cozy. Even as the aroma of peppermint filled your lungs, you felt like a prisoner, waiting on a visit from the warden. All I have to do is say no.

You pulled your phone from the pocket of your black slacks and opened your banking app. The last few thousand yen from a rich mother begging to know if her spoiled son had relapsed back into drugs (he had) were like dirty water in a slowly draining bath tub. Rent for the office would be due next week. Rent for your tiny apartment on the ugly side of town would be due, too, and there wasn’t enough to cover both. Without casework in the next three weeks, your account would be forced into the red.

Mrs. Hayashi would probably give me an extension again, you thought. She does like me since I’m her only tenant who doesn’t smoke. But damn, I really hate to ask again. You walked back to your desk to write your landlady an expertly worded email, but a flash of red outside the glass door caught your eye.

“Knock-knock!”

In walked the number three ranked hero in all of Japan, in full hero costume, Hawks. Your mouth fell open. His majestic crimson wings made his presence larger than life.

“No way. There is no way I’m working with you,” you said, crossing your arms and pursing your lips. But he just chuckled.

“Aw, come on, that’s no way to treat a client. I’m Hawks. Nice to meet you,” he said, voice smooth like honeyed tea. He extended a gloved hand out to you.

You eyed him, but returned his handshake. “You know, people who wear gloves usually have something to hide,” you said.

He raised an eyebrow but did not break from his upbeat tone. “Is that so? I can take them off if that’ll make you more comfortable.”

You tried to keep from looking him up and down. From his boyish good looks to his naturally confident demeanor, he was magnetic. No wonder he was so popular in the charts.

“As a matter of principle, I don’t really trust heroes,” you said. “Posturing and showing off for the public isn’t effective police work.”

He walked over to your filing cabinet, looking at your degree framed on the wall. “Criminal justice degree, eh? That’s a perfectly respectable line of work. Do you use it much in your investigations?”

You frowned. “Not really. Just some basic practices.”

“Bummer. But you seem to be doing well for yourself. Quite the swanky little office. My agency is just a few blocks over, so I know the rent’s crazy,” he said, walking over to your love seat and examining the painting above it.

You were growing impatient. “You’re here to talk business, right? Well, I have some questions for you. How did you get my information and office address?” you asked.

“I work with the Public Safety Commission. They keeps tabs on all kinds of people, heroes and regular folks. Wasn’t it you who outed that politician a few months back? The one who was embezzling public funds for crap like yachts and a luxury apartment?” he asked, taking a step back towards you.

His large wings made for an intimidating presence. You shrunk and pinned a stray hair behind your ear. “I don’t usually deal with government stuff or politics. Why would you think that was me? I thought that info was turned over to the police anonymously,” you rebutted.

“The IP address for it matched prior email correspondence you had with the police. Or was that just a coincidence?” He smirked, catching you in a lie. You avoided his eyes and chewed on your lip. He chuckled. “No reason to hide it. You do good work. The Commission likes to look out for potential hires down the line, and they have a good eye for talent. Now I want to ask you a few questions, if that’s okay.”

The Safety Commission is that nosy that they traced my IP address? And they think I’d wanna work for them? You sat in your desk chair with an annoyed puff. “The answer is still no.”

Hawks leaned against your filing cabinet, hands in his pockets. “We’ll get around to that. But first, I’m actually curious about your quirk.”

You stroked a feather. “What about it? Isn’t it rather obvious?”

“Somewhat. Is it just the wings? They’re really beautiful, by the way.”

A rush warmed your cheeks and you stared at your hands, anywhere but at the handsome hero. “Um… Thank you. My quirk is called Strigiforme.”

“Ah, like the order of owls! Very cool. Anything else to it?” he asked.

You cleared your throat, suddenly shy. “Hyper sensitive hearing, sharp visual acuity, and I’m pretty much nocturnal by nature. Heightened senses all around. And my wings are downy so I can fly without making any noise at all.”

“Ah, so the hearing must be why you have soundproof foam all over the walls.”

You nodded. “Hasn’t been terribly effective, though. I still hear conversations down the hall all the time.”

He laughed. “Man, I can relate to that. My feathers seem to pick up on everything! But hey, that’s an awesome quirk.” Hawks sat down on the love seat, crossing an ankle over his knee. “Definitely well-suited for your work, which is exactly why I sought you out. Birds of a feather, you know?”

“Hawks, I am flattered. Really,” you started. “But flattery will not change my mind. Working with a pro hero is likely to put me in the spotlight, and that’s the last thing I want. Like I said, I keep a low profile.”

“This will be very hush-hush, trust me. We’ll move under the cover of night, no media coverage whatsoever, promise. Plus, you haven’t even let me tell you what I’m looking to expose,” he said, cocking an eyebrow.

If there was any pro hero fit for surveillance, it was Hawks. His versatile quirk and relative lack of public interaction meant a temporary partnership did have potential. But was he just charming you to get what he wanted? Maybe if the money’s good…

You sighed and leaned back against your wings. “I’m listening.”

He smiled and relaxed into the love seat. “I overheard a pretty troubling conversation this week at the Safety Commission offices. One of the special investigators mentioned speaking with the Fukuoka police chief last weekend. Some officers have been caught with Trigger while on patrols. Said they were trying to keep up with heroes.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Sounds like an internal issue for the police. Why get involved?”

Hawks smirked. “Because the guy he was talking to was showing signs of stress associated with deception.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “That is a problem. So you think he’s involved somehow?”

He rubbed the stubble on his chin. “There’s definitely something going on there, whether this guy just knows something and is hiding it, or he has a role in it. Either way, a supply line of Trigger between the police and the PSC is seriously corrupt.”

“And you don’t think the police will investigate on their own?” you asked.

“Not far enough. Their reputation in comparison to heroes isn’t great these days, so I get why some of the officers would use drugs to try and keep up. And the Commission is their governing body, so if the supply is coming from them, they won’t expose it. If there really is a Trigger supply within the Commission, it needs to be shut down for sure. And that’s where we come in,” he said with a gesture towards you.

You rubbed your temple. “I already said I don’t deal with government stuff. But the corruption angle does interest me.” You rested your chin on your fist in thought for a moment. Man, he really did his research. Drugs, police and government corruption… He knew just the kind of case I’d go for. Damn him.

You met Hawks’ golden eyes across the room as he patiently awaited your next thought. “And this isn’t something you can do alone?” you asked.

“Nope. Can’t be in two places at once, and I need to track the officer and the guy in the Commission after hours.”

“And there’s no one within the Commission who can help you?”

He shook his head. “Not anyone who’d be willing to expose them. They don’t want to lose their own credibility, you know? I figure it’s safer to go with someone who prioritizes privacy, like you. Your low profile is exactly what I’m looking for, and if we find anything, I’ll take it from there.”

You nodded and closed your eyes. “So you really won’t hesitate if you have to expose the PSC?”

Hawks rested his cheek on his fist. “It’s important to me to weed out the corruption. Plus, I think I’m pretty important to them, so they won’t um… ‘Decommission’ me if they find out what I’m up to. And I’ll make sure they know nothing of your involvement.”

“Geez. This sounds pretty dangerous if you’re overestimating your value,” you admitted. He chuckled.

“I know, right? But I can’t just turn a blind eye.”

Throughout your college career, you studied narcissists and psychopaths, people who used artificial charm to manipulate others for personal gain. You knew exactly what to look for. Superficial smiles, reckless disregard for others, and an inflated sense of self, none of which were present in Hawks. There was an innocence about him, a heartfelt desire to do the right thing. You couldn’t help but be drawn to such a genuine person, self-righteous hero or not.

You drummed your fingers on your desk, sucking your lips as your crunched numbers in your head. Let’s see, to make this worth my time and to make rent, I’ll need about 400,000 yen. And if we make a deal, I’ll need 25% up front to commit him to my schedule…

“What kind of money are we talking about here, Hawks?” you asked.

“For three weeks of surveillance? I was thinking… A million yen”

You almost choked.

“And as a show of good faith and to promise we’ll both keep this quiet, I’ll front you half right now. Does that sound reasonable?” he asked.

Your heart stopped. That’s three months pay for three weeks of work, you thought. You certainly wouldn’t have to worry about rent for a while. You might even be able to afford a nice dinner out for the first time since you earned an allowance.

“That is… An extremely generous offer… I don’t know what to say, honestly,” you laughed.

Hawks flashed a grin. “Say yes, obviously!”

The corners of your lips lifted as you rose from your office chair. Hawks stood and extended a hand out to you. “We have a deal then?”

You cleared your throat and stood up straight. “Consider this our verbal contract. I hereby agree.”

You took his hand and made eye contact. The skin-to-skin contact was brief but weighty. His sparkling golden eyes framed by amber flight goggles sent butterflies through your stomach. You felt like a middle schooler again. You hadn’t even noticed when he had slipped off his gloves.

“No need for formality. This is all off the books anyway, so you should consider the money a gift. Speaking of, let me do the transfer right now.” He pulled out his phone and input your banking information.

“Since it’s after 5 o’clock, the money won’t be available until tomorrow. Hope that’s okay,” he said.

You snorted. “Hey, as long as this doesn’t turn out to be some kind of scam, that’s fine with me.”

Another winning Hawks smile warmed your chest. He then handed you his phone. “Oh, and I’ll need your personal number. For professional reasons, of course.” The spark in his eye said more than his words. He wasn’t flirting with you, was he?

You bit your bottom lip, holding back the girlish emotions flooding you. Professional reasons, dummy. Don’t get too excited, you thought as you punched in your name and number.

“Great! I’ll text you so we can talk details, and I’ll see you Monday. Sound good?” he asked.

You nodded and bowed politely. “Again, I appreciate your generosity. Never thought I’d be saying this, but I’m actually looking forward to working with you, Hero.”

He reciprocated your bow and headed for the door. “Me too. See ya soon, angel,” he said with a casual wave and a grin.

Your heart revved. Angel? Because of my wings?

Despite flirting with a coworker being strictly unprofessional, you weren’t offended. In fact, you could hardly think of the meeting without smiling, replaying his cheerful voice over and over in your mind. Curious, you jumped on your computer in search of interviews and amateur videos of Hawks being the golden-haired wonder boy you’d never noticed. Before you knew it, you were immersed in the world of pro heroes, amazed by his speed and agility as he saved multiple people at a time from burning buildings, captured villains, and tossed a playful peace sign and wink towards any camera he saw after the action had died down.

Your phone startled you with a buzz.

Unknown number: hey, its hawks :)

next (pt. 2)

#hawks x reader #hawks x y/n #hawks x you #pro hero hawks #bnha hawks #bnha #afab reader #keigo takami #keigo takami x reader

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aizawabemyhusband · 7 months

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keigo and you

MINORS DNI NSFW UNDER CUT

Disclaimer: black reader in mind Afab! Reader Sir and daddy kink reader calls Keigo ‘bubba’ breeding kink overstim kink creampie

Keigo not only No. 2 hero but your husband by three years was a very busy man but he always made time for you no matter what, you are the light of his life.

Tonight he was off he went to the convenience store for movie night little did he know you were on edge so you went to the bed room and put on lingerie for him he was in for a treat.

“Baby I’m home with the stuff for movie night I have your favorites!.”Keigo called while taking his shoes of and putting his keys where they belonged.

He expected you to be on the couch waiting for him with your cat Luna but she was fast asleep in her canopy Keigo flew upstairs to find you on the bed with the most innocent lingerie on he realized what he had done.

You were horny while he was gone on his three week trip for the agency he looked your beautiful body up and down and felt guilt pool in his chest “were … were you waiting for me?.” He said his guilt hitting hard as ever.

“Yes Keigo . It didn’t make it better that I can’t touch myself when you’re gone so please fuck me with your tongue I need you.” You said tears daring to stain your cheeks “baby don’t cry I’ll take care of you I promise” Keigo said walking over to you

He took the Lacey panties off when he saw your wetness he felt his pants tighten he immediately put his mouth to work one hand goes to work fingering your hole and the other playing with your nipples “Sh-shit bubba please wanna’ cum please.” You whined you and Keigo both knew under the right circumstances you cum fast especially when Keigo uses his mouth.

without words he sends you over the edge not stopping and that’s the first orgasm of the night then comes the second and the third overstimulated you you curse out “f-fuuck kei w-want your cock p-please?.” Your legs shake and you stumble Over words Keigo gets up “ Of course you can my princess!.” He says happy to give you his cock and please you “And from now on if you need to touch yourself and I’m gone text me.” “Yes sir” You say desperate for him deep inside of you he strips himself down “want me to fill you with my seed baby shoot my cum in your pussy?.”he says lining himself with your entrence you gush at his words “ yes daddy want you to fill my pussy till I can’t take anymore of your cum.” He obliges giving you a rough pace your lewd noises mix you guys creampie twice after care was even better cuddles kisses and hoping that you get pregnant.

the end!

Authors note: no joke my I’m so happy this is my longest smut! Please repost and tag!

#mha #Hawks #keigo x reader #my hero x reader #keigo takami #black reader smut #afab reader #No. 2 hero #anime #dacryphilia #pillow princess #daddy k!nk #sir k!nk

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superiorratboy · 2 years

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Chapters: 2/? Fandom: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Takami Keigo | Hawks/Reader, Tokoyami Fumikage & Reader, Takami Keigo | Hawks/Original Female Character(s) Characters: Takami Keigo | Hawks, Pro Heroes (My Hero Academia), Hero Public Safety Commission (My Hero Academia), Tokoyami Fumikage, Original Non-Binary Character Additional Tags: Reader is genderfluid, Reader is AFAB - Freeform, Streaming, reader is a twitch streamer, Twitch Streamers - Freeform, Takami Keigo | Hawks Acts Like a Bird, Reader Has a Quirk (My Hero Academia), Reader Has a Healing Quirk (My Hero Academia), reader has a bird quirk, Hawks is a good mentor, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, no beta we die like men, okay maybe some beta, im trying my best okay Summary:

You’re a twitch streamer with a part time job at a game store and a healing quirk. Being a hero was never on your list of things to do, in fact it was on your list of things to avoid, but when the hpsc offered to pay you pretty good money to be Hawks sidekick how exactly are you supposed to pass that up? Get paid and train with one of your favorite heroes, all while getting to keep up with your streaming? Sounds like a pretty good deal. —————— This is marked with ‘other’ because while reader is afab, they are genderfluid and I didn’t know what to mark lmao I hope anyone who reads this enjoys it!! :)

#hawks #keigo x you #takami keigo #hawks x y/n #hawks x reader #twitch #reader is afab #reader is a streamer #mha #bnha #my hero academia #hawks mha

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takami-takami · 7 months

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Like Animals.

kinktober day 4: sex pollen.

includes— hawks x reader. minors dni. smut

warnings— afab!reader. dubcon (sex pollen/heats, but both have been pining like idiots). breeding if you squint.

keigo's beloved crush sidekick gets hit with the unluckiest quirk possible. he quickly discovers his rut suppressants ain't shit.

Through all the horrors and adverse life events Keigo has endured in this line of work— brutal near-assassinations, negotiations with international crime syndicates, purchasing sugar-free canned coffee with Splenda substitute by mistake before his morning shift— he has always been able to find a silver lining in the darkest of moments.

Which makes it infinitely more concerning that for the first time in his life, he nearly whines through his teeth the words, "why me?"

A palm drags once down his face, thumb and index finger pulling down his darkened eye bags. His hand collects the beads of sweat and stops to rest over his mouth.

He supposes this must be his penance for taking a risk and trusting faulty intel.

Keigo's informant told him the villain he and his darling sidekick were meeting would have a limited-ranged fire quirk, so the diligent hero stuffed ointment and cold packs in his pockets before leaving just in case.

If he had known the villain was a plant heteromorph and possessed a heat-inducing mist quirk instead, and that the person he was hopelessly in love with had a bit of a crush on would be caught in the direct line of fire?

He would have brought a paper bag to hyperventilate into instead. And some prayer beads. The god to which the prayer is delivered doesn't necessarily matter, he thinks. He'd simply pick one and drop to his knees in a bid for mercy.

"I'm taking you to a medic," Keigo puts his foot down for the fourth time this evening.

"Fuck no," you groan from the couch, shifting to squeeze your thighs together. It offers not even a modicum of relief from the incessant throb. "Do you want my cause of death to be humiliation? Is that your plan, genius? 'S bad enough as it is that you're here."

The subtext is unspoken, but clear to him through your adorable pout: I only trust you to see me like this.

It's unlucky that the man you've had the most innapropriate-for-work crush on for the better part of two years happened to be the one beside you that day. And it's just your sorry luck, you lament, that Keigo would also be the one to catch you, to fly you home cradled in his painfully capable arms, to refuse to leave your side and insist on making his favorite chicken soup for you in a desperate flail of support.

He'd respect your decision and leave, should you ask him to. You know that. And yet the humbling truth gnaws at your pride: doing so wouldn't do much to save your image at this point. He’s already seen you like this, you grumble. The proverbial cat has long since escaped the bag, waltzing its way over to rub its purring body against Keigo’s leg to your abject horror.

If you close your eyes, you can attempt to trick your brain into thinking this affliction is a flu of some kind.

Yes, this is just some common cold. You're wearing nothing but your work partner's shirt (your clothes were contaminated by the quirk's dust, Keigo explained, speaking in that strict work mode voice that makes you picture your mouth stuffed and drooling somewhere beneath his desk and between his spread legs). You pull the damned fabric down over your core as you try your hardest to not writhe in fits of pleasure underneath the blankets, rubbing your thighs together for any friction against your swollen clit.

All symptoms of an affliction of the flu, of course.

You don't need to reach down and touch to know the slick would string those thighs together, should you attempt to pull them apart.

Keigo knows that, too. But he doesn't say anything about it.

You would be mortified if you were aware of the truth.

That he knows everything.

Keigo knows exactly how you ache; like you're constantly on the precipice of an orgasm, perpetually ablaze from the heavy heat scorching your body from its surface to the boiling core.

You try to suppress your glee as he spoon feeds you the broth, reminding yourself that this is just what good friends do for each other.

Friends coo praises at each other when they swallow, friends tilt each other's chins up with one finger and mutter things like that’s a good dove and you can take another as they watch their throat bob in tandem.

Friends shiver from their wingtips down their spine when they pull the spoon back. They let their gaze linger for just a second on those lips that open wide, aching to touch.

Ever the gentleman, Keigo stays lowered to his haunches and places one hand over your forehead to check for a fever, redirecting his focus toward taking inventory of your vitals. He doesn't wince when he hears your moan at the contact, even though the pitiful sound pings at his weak points. His avian instincts remind him he needs to protect you, please you, take care of you; to make it go away, to fix that feeling he knows better than anyone is aching like a bruise between your thighs.

He doesn't allow his eyes to wander astray or trail their way downwards, especially when you're in such a vulnerable state; but his professional assessment is that if he could only wet his appetite, the flat of his tongue alone could—

He shakes his head and blows a puff to cool the soup, raising another spoonful to your lips.

"Here. Another. You need to keep your energy up," he reminds you, voice stern. It's nearly clinical and achieves the opposite of its desired effect.

Your heart rate picks up to thump at a steady, thrumming beat at the innocuous gesture of domesticity.

How have you never noticed how capable of a mate Keigo would be…? He’s all musculature and sincerity, sharp ridges at his knuckles and soft curves at the small of his waist where he only trusts you to touch.

You huff an involuntary moan.

He picks another god to praise that the couch you're laying on obscures his lower half.

Today, Keigo discovers his suppressants are only designed to reduce the chance of a rut being triggered. It brings the possibility of it starting in the first place to a comfortable near-zero, allowing him to carry out the spring and fall seasons as if he were entirely quirkless.

But if that rut passes through the blockers' biochemistry in, say, the event Keigo's luck rears its ugly head, for example… It does fuck all to reduce the actual symptoms.

More importantly than his own anguish, however, is this: his mate work partner got hurt because of him— hurt being a stretch, he'd know if he weren't overthinking so much, given the blissed out panting just two feet away from him; but you’re probably suffering and it's all his fault. It’s all because of an unlucky, once in a lifetime slip up from Keigo Takami himself, and he can't detangle himself from the guilt.

If drowning in the unexpected whirlpool that is his first rut in half a decade is his penance for the crime, then Keigo will hang his head and take it.

The huff he lets out is your last straw.

"I'm going to my room," you state, moving to leave like you left the stove on and are trying to avoid an upcoming house fire.

When his hand darts out to stop you, the touch against your shoulder sends shockwaves down your stomach.

He's touching you. He's taking such good care of you, feeding you, providing for you in his nest and now he's touching you?

It sends your hormones into overdrive.

You'd do well to conceal it, if his heightened instincts couldn't smell your desperation.

"I'm afraid it ain't that easy, dove," he warns, eye contact averted. "I'd avoid doing that, if I were you."

Keigo schools his expression, but not before you catch a flash of something hungry.

There's no chance in hell he's letting you out of his sight. Not like this. You're confined to the couch while he keeps an eye on you. Attempting to fix it yourself will only make the feeling unfathomably worse, something he tries to communicate to you with a look that only ends up making him look like a kicked puppy.

You squint right back when you process the implication of his words, eyes raking down his form in suspicion.

"How do you know all this, anyway," you ask.

Keigo goes silent, hand concealing his mouth.

Ah, it hits you.

Bird things.

Your head falls back against one of the numerous pillows your partner propped up behind you.

"The couch is soft," you murmur, situating yourself against the cushions and throw blankets he so carefully arranged. You trail your fingertips along a silk pillow. Keigo slams his eyes shut.

"Please don't say it like that."

"Why not?" Your lids droop, heat overtaking your better judgement. Tentatively, you play along the bounds. You allow your hands to run along the soft divots of the blanket covering your body, squeezing your chest and pinching the peaks. "It's like a little nest, isn't it?"

His hand drags down his face before pinching his nose bridge, suppressing a whine. "Baby, please—"

"You don't wanna join me?"

"You don't know what you're talking about. It's just the heat," Keigo tells himself more than you. "For the love of God, dove, stop talking—"

"But it hurts, Kei'." It’s a low blow, judging by the protective coo that escapes his lips.

Fed up, he leans forward and swings his right leg over your hip, crawling atop you as if his body has a mind of its own, utterly bogged by desire and yanked like puppet strings.

With him kneeling tall above you, the bodysuit of his hero costume hides absolutely nothing. The musculature is quite impressive, actually. Proof of his viability as a mate— all dominant and masculine and gorgeous.

And at this angle, you can see the most painful erection straining against his pants.

"I need you, Kei'. I need— mmph!"

A palm silences you; slapped down, hot, imposing, and heavy like a weight against your mouth.

The authority of the action makes your cunt clench; and Keigo would die before he lets that feeling go to waste, so his hips drop down to grind once against it.

Your eyes go wide, doughy and stunned, darting down in haste, following the trail of his thick bicep up toward the disciplinary scowl on his face.

His nostrils flare with the heaving in his chest, eyes screwed shut with his last slivers of patience holding its grip on his psyche.

"One more word," he says, pulling his hand away. "One more word and I'm ripping this blanket off and fucking you raw."

After a moment of silence, you speak.

"Please."

Keigo is wordless when he unbuckles his belt and lets it— and his inhibitions— drop with a satisfying clink.

The reality of what you've gotten yourself into comes crashing down as it hits you how utterly fucked you are. The scaffolding of years of sexual tension comes crumbling down like bricks to rubble, a city of restraint reduced to pure, animalistic desire.

Years of Keigo's eyes darting away when you nonchalantly change into your uniform in front of him, even though he never seemed bothered by any of his other peers doing the same; years of you both curling in on yourselves at the furthest edges of the bed you had to share, cramped close in those under-the-radar motels on stealth missions; years of the words "idiot, can I kiss you," held back by your lips as you watch him moan when he sinks his teeth into his comfort restaurant's chicken teriyaki every stupid Friday night, sitting cross-legged and at home on the carpet of your apartment floor.

Not a single word is exchanged as he pulls his cock free from its confines, nearly too thick for his fingers to meet when they wrap around it. He tosses the blanket to the side with haste, dragging your shirt (his shirt) up to your collar, exposing your chest when he lines his cock with your entrance.

"Please, Kei'," you sniffle. "Hurts."

"Oh, I know, baby... I know." His lips are pursed when he shushes you, tracing your cheek with his palm. "I'll make it go away."

When your lips meet, it's like static electricity; and it's entirely remorseless.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he groans against your mouth, dragging his length along your sticky thighs before plopping the thick of it atop your soaked cunt.

"So wet for me," he reveres, dragging the plump tip through your mess to get it slick enough to rub against your clit.

Your rutting hips buck with impatience in an attempt to glide his length against your swollen pussy, but that only serves to fuel his desire; and those desperate little whines only feed into his insatiable need to fuck, to breed you until you're silent.

Until you shut the fuck up.

Those pathetic little sounds are music to his ears, a siren's song that used to play only in his most shameful fantasies; the ones that kept his fist tight around his cock the moment he returned home after missions, the sight of you panting and spitting blood after battle with a smile on your face still fresh in his memory.

Keigo wants to hear you moan.

But his rut needs to fuck you wordless with satisfaction.

"Oh, fuck," he hitches, shifting his hips back and forth to the tune of the audible shlicks below. Unable to stay upright any longer, his chest falls flush into yours in a rut-afflicted haze, rutting against you like animals.

When he slips his cock inside, it's with a kiss to muffle his voice.

And he wastes no time setting a punishing pace, aided nicely by the slickness that coats the sides of his cock. The legs of the couch surely must be scraping indents into the floorboards, judging by the creaks that mingle with the sounds of his belt buckle at every thrust. You'd notice if either of you were lucid enough to care.

It's a brief consideration of a possibility of an afterthought, like a sheepish voice behind a roaring crowd.

Pulling out, that is.

Yeah, if he were a stronger man, he could probably will his hips to stall. There's a chance someone far stronger than him would hiss when he does it. His cock would weep in denial of that sweet, velvet entanglement, dripping out in the cold when he fists himself to completion mere inches away from what might as well be the center of his goddamn universe.

But when it comes to you, when it comes to his rut, Keigo is not a strong man.

He allows his cock to throb in the vice of your cunt, instead.

"God, baby," he moans into your neck, wings flapping once, twice with each thrust, shedding a few feathers before straightening out and grazing the ceiling behind his back. "Baby. Oh, baby. You're so tight. You're so— fuck!"

He's babbling, but so are you. Legs hooked across the small of his back, you bump your hips as best you can to aid in his efforts; and with your last shreds of lucidity, you decide for the both of you how things will end.

With watery lashes, you open your eyes enough to blink away some tears and clear your vision just enough. Your gaze crawls up his legs that are still clothed to the thighs, peeking over the curvature of his ass and up his shuddering spine— all to mark onto your scarlet red prize.

When you entangle your fingers into the downy feathers at the base of his wings, it shoots straight to his cock and he spills.

With eyes wide open and a strangled choke at the back of his throat, Keigo's hips stutter when he empties himself. With every throb comes another rope from the tip, sticky and excessive from the rut, mixing with your wetness as you crash over the edge soon after.

When the ringing in your ears ceases and you finally come to, it's to the sight of your now probably-more-than-a-work-partner pulling out and staring between your legs as if under a trance, eyes glimmering.

"Kei', you okay?"

"Uh huh," he answers absentmindedly, utterly transfixed on the mess he made.

It's strange, he thinks. Whatever urges his rut transcribed into cravings, every instinct that tugged at the avian etched in his DNA and called him to fill you pales in comparison to the satisfaction of having indulged himself at last.

His eyes flick back to meet yours.

"Does this mean I can kiss you at work now?"

You snort. So that's where his mind goes in the end.

"It means a whole lot more than that," you say, rolling you both over so he lands square on his back.

#sorry i made jesus canon in this fic. I had to have him say it. Okay bye!#i know his quirk doesnt work like that its not an animal quirk but shhhhhh im having fun #🖋 writing #🌶 spice #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #bnha x reader #mha thirst #mha x reader #bnha thirst #smut #x reader

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astridthevalkyrie · 10 months

Text

honeymoon period | jumin han x reader

After Jumin marries you, slowly, his threads start to untangle.

a/n: my first and probably last long jumin fic. this has been in the works for months, literally what i've been stalling on superior for (pre keigo 😭) i hope you all enjoy! i love this man <3

warnings: afab reader with she/her pronouns, some depressing thoughts, smut, oral (m and f receiving), penetrative sex, references to kinks that they both have, references/nightmares about abuse including sexual harassment, insecurity, jumin's comedy lol

word count: 13.2k (only a little less than the last superior chapter that is cray cray)

There is a knock on your door.

It makes you jump. Not that you’re nervous—it’s a hotel and several of your friends and family are here to see you get married, so naturally many of them know where your room is. The room itself is, of course, lavish, a paradise compared to most of your previous lodgings. Honestly, you miss the penthouse.

No, that’s not quite right. You just miss being curled up on the couch, tucked into Jumin’s chest with Elizabeth on your lap, wine on his lips and love in his eyes. You miss him, even though you saw him last this morning. You know he’s in the hotel lobby being forced to get wasted by Luciel, because the hacker in question has sent you dozens of videos of your fiancé. In one of them, when Zen reminds him he’s getting married tomorrow, a goofy smile breaks out on his face as he ducks his head.

Maybe the wedding wasn’t necessary. Maybe you two could have just signed the necessary papers without having to go a full day without seeing each other. How are you supposed to sleep tonight? You could call him, but it wouldn’t be the same.

Sighing, you make your way to the door. If it’s one of your friends trying to convince you to let loose or a family member coming to check up on you, you’re not in the mood.

When you open the door, your fiancé is standing there.

“Jumin!”

All questions on the tip of your tongue disappear when he brings you into his arms, burying his face in your neck with a content sigh. There’s no urgency in it, just a quiet, sudden happiness, like he’s fully aware that in just a few hours he won’t have to worry about you being anywhere but in his arms again.

“Thank you.” His voice breaks the silence, muffled on your skin. “For letting me love you, and for loving me.”

Your eyes well up with tears. What an emotional bride you’re turning out to be. And what a wonderful groom you have, to somehow know exactly what you need even when he’s not completely sober.

Slowly, you wrap your arms around him as well, breathing in the scent of his shampoo as you press a kiss to the top of his head.

“You’re welcome, Jumin.”

///

There has never been a lovelier sight than your smile, and Jumin hopes you know that.

If you don’t, he’ll just have to convince you.

“Hi, sweetheart.” You’re sporting a grin for him—just for him—wearing nothing but one of his shirts with Elizabeth the Third scurrying out from between your feet when she sees him. There’s a pink bottle on the counter. Frosting, he thinks. “I hope you don’t mind, but having a chef cook for us for a month straight has ruined my palate for anything else. I had to cook for myself again before I got spoiled. I can call him to make you dinner if you don’t want to eat what I made, though!”

“Of course not.” The urge to embrace you is unbearable. A month after the wedding, and his first day back at work after the honeymoon, he still can’t seem to keep his hands off. “What did you make? I’ll eat anything.”

He leans down to take Elizabeth the Third in his arms, scratching the back of her head softly. “Alright! I made stew and baked some cupcakes, I hope you like it. But you should probably change first. Slip into something more comfortable.”

“Ironic, considering you and I are wearing the same thing.”

“Well…” You lean over the counter, making a show of ogling him. “If you really want to match, you can leave the shirt on and take off your pants.”

It’s impossible to even try and stop the smile growing on his face. “Would you like that?”

“Come over here and find out, hubby.”

The nickname makes him flush pleasantly, but instead of taking you up on that extremely tempting offer, he simply walks up and presses a kiss to your forehead. You pout, and with the tact of knowing Elizabeth is still in his arms, you tug on his tie and kiss him properly. Jumin’s brain turns off, if only for a few seconds. As long as you kiss him and he kisses you back, the only thing he knows is you, you, you and nothing else.

Now, instead of changing, he’s holding his cat and kissing you in the kitchen. With just a minor breakaway and murmured apology, he’s no longer holding his cat. His hands slide around your back and pull you in, and your hands meet at the base of his neck. You. Only you.

“Ju-min,” you admonish breathlessly, the second he pulls away to trail hurried kisses down your neck. “Dinner first.”

“Mm. I’m not hungry.” Or he is, but not for dinner.

Your hands come to rest on his chest, but you don’t pull away, and Jumin is beyond grateful. He doesn’t want to eat, doesn’t want to sleep or shower or do anything else when he could be showing you just how much he’d missed you at work today.

Slightly pressed into the counter, you place your hands back and jump onto it, and he eagerly steps in between your legs to kiss you again. Your legs wrap around his waist and your hands tangle in his hair—a habit of yours, he’s noticed, to mess his hair up. He doesn’t mind. Not if it makes you happy.

Finally, you pull away and before he can dive back in for yet another kiss, you dip your finger into the bowl next to you and offer it up to him. Without even considering it, he takes your finger in between his lips and licks the gravy off.

It’s only after he registers the taste does Jumin realize how intimate the action is. And of course, he knows that you’re married, that you and he have seen each other absolutely bare and open to one another, that he is literally making out with you in his—in your—in your shared kitchen. He knows that despite everyone thinking that the marriage was rushed and impulsive, this will be a long road, and he plans to stick by you for each and every single step. He knows that tasting something off your finger is hardly the most domestic thing you two will do.

But it doesn’t stop the flurry of butterflies he feels in his stomach. It doesn’t stop him from thinking my wife is letting me taste what she made, because she’s perfect. That’s not to mention how wonderful the taste actually is.

“Good?” you question, with gleaming eyes.

“Incredible.” He takes your hand and dips your finger in the bowl, stealing another taste right after. “More than incredible. The best stew I’ve ever had.”

“I know you’re flattering me.” Leaning forward, you take his face in your hands, brushing your thumbs over his cheeks. Softly, gently, like he’s something fragile that will break if you use any force. “But I’m not complaining. Keep going.”

“Food is always better when a beautiful woman is the one serving it.”

You beam. The butterflies in his stomach do a victory soar.

Jumin Han is in love.

///

Zen has a dream about you. That’s when the problem starts.

He tells it to the group in great detail—it’s not anything romantic or sexual, but Jumin doesn’t see a reason for you to be in his subconscious at all, even if you were just the supposed director for Zen’s dream movie. You’re not any sort of movie director, so the dream is ridiculous at any rate.

It doesn’t stop him from pouncing on you the second you two get back home. You don’t even get to take a seat before he’s pressing you against the door, ensuring it’s locked (the last thing he needs is for one of the security guards to see this and have dreams about you too) and kissing you possessively.

“Jumin—?” There’s a question on the tip of your tongue, but it cuts off into a delicious moan when he starts sucking and biting all the same spots he knows he left hickeys on during your honeymoon.

“Spend the day with me,” he whispers. “Just me, no one else.”

An amused giggle bubbles from your throat. “I was already gonna do that, honeybunny.”

Good. That’s plenty of time for him to mark up your neck (and other places) so that everyone knows you’re his, and other people can stop dreaming of you. Already his mind is filled with wicked thoughts, of how he can make you cry and beg and scream today. From the time you two spent on your honeymoon, he knows you can get quite loud if he puts his mind to it.

The only limit is his imagination.

“Jumin.” Your head tilts back against the door, eyes closed as his tongue soothes a bite mark he just made. “Ah, J-Jumin, are you jealous?”

“No.” He is.

“I know what possessiveness looks like.” You take his hand in yours and press a kiss to each fingertip. “You know that me being in Zen’s dream isn’t something in our or even his control?”

“Of course I know that.” He huffs, impatiently fiddling with the buttons on your shirt. “That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

He kisses you again, and you hum in understanding, sliding your arms around his neck and pulling him in closer. It’s amazing, no matter how many times he thinks everyone would dismiss him for being ridiculous over something like this, you are always there to prove that at least one person wouldn’t. And you taste. So. Damn. Good.

So why not taste you all over? Jumin hungrily slides his tongue over your teeth, seeking entrance. When your mouth parts for him, he tastes you intimately, swallowing your soft sighs.

“For the record,” you mumble, out of breath, “I only ever dream about you.”

“As do I, darling.” He pulls you closer still, thinking about how good you’ll taste when he has his mouth on your pussy. “As do I.”

///

This need to prove himself to you extends beyond the sexual—you laugh so much when you’re around Luciel and Yoosung. Actual laughter that is so different from the polite smiles and chuckles that are in response to his own words.

He hates it. He hates it so very much. He wants to make you laugh, full blown and unabashed. As much as he likes making you giggle, he wants to make you laugh so hard that there are tears pouring down your cheeks. And his experience has quite readily set him up for the expectation that if he wants something, he will have it.

And now, what he really, really wants is to see his wife lose her in laughter because of him.

That means it’s time to bring out the big guns.

Right now you’re under the covers, reading glasses on as you flip through a book. The book in question is something from his personal library (when he showed it to you, mentioning a scene from Beauty and the Beast, you had promptly told him that he was not a beast, but that you finally understood how the princess felt in that scene).

To an extent, Jumin feels bad when he distracts you from work or requests your attention. But he tries to remind himself that if you didn’t want it, you were more than capable of telling him as much. And your reaction to him crawling on top of you with his arms on either side would certainly not be to put the book aside and pull him down to lay on your chest with a kiss to the crown of his head.

For once in his life, Jumin is certain that he is loved.

“I have a joke,” he tells you matter-of-factly, and your brow raises.

“What is it?”

Taking a deep breath, he raises himself up so he can take a good look at your face.

“Hit Seoul, hit Daejon, hit Daegu, hit Busan, hit it!”

There’s a long pause, and your surprised expression slowly morphs into a giggle, then at his grin, a chortle. Jumin laughs first, and then you do too, throwing your head back. It’s single-handedly the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard in his life.

“W-what—“ You’re wheezing now, shoulders shaking. “What does that even mean?”

“I cast a spell on you. Those who laugh are no ordinary souls, for your information.”

“You are so perfect.” The praise catches him off guard, but your body is still shaking from laughter, and in your eyes he sees something like adoration. “How are you so perfect?”

That is definitely not a word he associates with his humor. His status, money, company, business acumen? Yes, perfect, as they were always meant to be. But the little flips in his stomach tell him that none of those things are what you’re referring to. The look in your eyes—he never sees you look at material objects or money that way. He has only ever seen it aimed towards him, and Jumin realizes with a start that there is no need to compete with Zen or Yoosung or Luciel—because really, there is no competition to begin with.

///

Being a workaholic comes with benefits. Everything always gets done. And he enjoys doing business, so there is no negative side effect…other than the lost time that could be spent with his wife. Typing away on the computer he has set up in his study, Jumin sighs, cracking his neck every half hour or so. He’s been at it for hours, but there’s still more left to do.

A soft knock makes him look up. You peek your head in, blinking sleepily and all wrapped up in a blanket. “Sorry to disturb,” in a whisper that barely reaches his ears, “can I sleep here, honey?”

Jumin beckons you in, looking around dubiously. “I’m sorry, I don’t think there’s any surface here you’d be comfortable on. I don’t want you to have an ache by tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, that’s okay.” Your eyes keep blinking closed, as though you’re barely staying awake. All your words are hushed, but you still manage to clamber over to his side of the desk, blanket in tow, and fall onto his lap, burying your face in his chest.

With a start, he catches you, holding you close. “What is it, sweetheart? You can’t sleep?”

You shake your head, getting even more comfortable. “The bed’s too cold.”

Something indescribable squeezes his chest. Above everything, the pleasure that you would rather seek warmth from him rather than get another blanket is all-consuming. Without another word, he stands with you in his arms and walks to the bed. The second he steps into the bedroom, your grip on him becomes a little tighter.

He huffs back a small laugh. “I’m not going anywhere. I’d just rather you sleep here.”

Pulling out a second blanket from the closet for good measure, he lays down on the bed with you, throwing both blankets over your bodies before wrapping you up in his arms. You sigh happily, legs mixing with his and face pressing in his chest once more.

“Sorry for distracting you.” Now your voice is barely audible. “Mm…you’re just…so much warmer…”

“Can I ask you a favor?” You hum softly in response. “Please never apologize for demanding my attention. I am yours, that includes my body, my soul, and my time. Should you ever need me to sleep and I am in the office, please call me and I’ll come home immediately. I’ll take the jet home if I have to. That doesn’t just stop at my time either. If there is anything, anything, you would like, then all you have to do is ask me. I’ll buy you anything. The world is at your disposal.”

There’s a pause and Jumin thinks you’ve fallen asleep, but then you break the silence, quietly asking, “Is it okay if I ask you for something, then?”

“Anything.”

Cute but glossy eyes peer up at him, and you blink rapidly. “A kiss?”

Jumin places his hands on your cheeks, catching the stray tear that falls. Then he leans in, and everything is right with the world.

///

Ice Prince.

Jumin has no idea where the title actually came from. He doesn’t see what’s wrong with someone having control of their emotions. Is he expected to cry or rage at every little thing? That’s a genuine question. Maybe he doesn’t show much emotion at all, and he should. He’s open to advice.

It shouldn’t even be on his mind. He’s watching a soap opera, and the most beautiful woman in the world is in his arms. He enjoys watching your reactions more than watching the show itself, whether you’re holding back an aww or wincing. Every so often, you look up and meet his eyes, giving him a sweet smile each and every time before placing your head back on his chest.

Still, he can’t get the article he read earlier out of his head. Has the Ice Prince really settled down? What kind of life does the new Mrs. Han lead? One can only imagine that she does not get many warm moments with Jumin Han. A speedy divorce would not be surprising.

Just the thought makes him tug you in closer, the idea of you leaving never failing to terrify him. He’s gotten better, he doesn’t freak out over you exiting the penthouse or hanging out with friends or working. He’d told himself harshly that he would not drive you away with his overt possessiveness.

But maybe he’s going to drive you away if he can’t learn to show you his emotions and instead continues to be…well, an ice prince, as much as he hates the term.

“Jumin.” You’re pressing a kiss to his throat, breaking him out of his thoughts. “Are you tired, honey? We can go to bed.”

When he looks down, you’re gazing concernedly up at him. He doesn’t feel like a villain when you look upon him like this. And holding you close is not the only privilege he has here. Taking your face in his hands, he kisses you, and you melt in almost immediately. Jumin knows that you’re starting to get sleepy because you don’t make any move to straddle him further.

The man who knows you best—that is what the articles should be about. Doting husband. Family man. Your partner. How could anyone think he was cold or heartless to you?

“Juju,” you mumble softly, not bothering to break the kiss, “we should get to bed.”

Yes, you’re right. However…

“May I ask you a question?” His curiosity and slight anxiousness requires him to make sure. If he’s ever done anything to make you think he’s some kind of robot, he needs to get rid of such behavior immediately.

Your lips quirk like he’s said something funny. “You may.”

“Have I ever seemed…cold to you?” Almost as if to remind you before you answer, he holds your hand, squeezing gently, while the other hand remains on your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin softly. “Since we’ve been together, I mean. Have I ever acted anything like an…” Jumin cringes just saying it out loud. “Ice prince?”

The question seems to take you aback, and you blink a few times. Your eyes—warm, beautiful eyes—first stare at him with a certain confusion, then quickly become infused with a sudden anger.

“Did someone say that about you? Who was it?”

“No one,” he responds, then hastily amends, “there have always been articles calling me that. I just happened to see one today, so it was on my mind.”

Now, you really do straddle him, threading your fingers through his hair. The anger has dulled into a stubborn crossness. With a deep scowl, you kiss his forehead and say, “That is ridiculous. You have been nothing but warm to me, Jumin Han.”

The same warmth you’re talking about spreads across his cheeks, painting them pink, but you’re not done.

“Since when do you care about those articles anyway? They’ve always been inane. Remember when everyone was convinced that you would marry Sarah?” Here you huff, and he hates to admit that he loves seeing you jealous, even if over someone he never even considered getting to know. “And you had to set them straight for them to print anything accurate. Maybe I should give a press statement of my own. Ice Prince my ass.”

“Such language,” Jumin says lowly, already hiding his face in your neck. You’re still peeved, muttering things under your breath as you stroke his hair, angry kisses pressed to his skin in the middle of your rant.

Eventually, you tire yourself out, falling asleep right there on his chest, a common occurrence. He doesn’t mind it one bit, it’s actually really easy to carry you to bed. For some reason, Jumin feels much, much lighter.

///

His wife is a party planner. An event planner, technically, since you’ll take some requests for meetings as well, but it’s mostly parties. He knows that due to your marriage, there’s been an increase in the amount of clients wanting you to plan their events. Even before, you’d said your schedule had always been sporadic, revolving around whatever the current most pressing event was.

Frankly, he shouldn’t be surprised, with how masterfully you pulled off the RFA party.

He’s more than proud of you, of course. He’s now attended quite a few of the events you put together, and it always leaves him impressed. You’ve confided in him about how you’d like to either switch to a company that exclusively does weddings or start your own, and despite your protests, he’s fully prepared to finance such an endeavor when the time comes.

The only issue about your job, and his job as well, is that your schedules can be sporadic. There are days where you can work without even leaving the penthouse, and then there are days where you are running around and don’t return until 2 AM. Jumin can hardly get upset when he’s taunted the clock with his record times at coming home as well.

Can’t get upset at you, that is. Being upset at the situation is perfectly reasonable. He wants to spend time with his wife, dammit. You’re his favorite person in the world, all the things he wants to do involve being with you.

So when he’s the one who’s arriving at 2 in the morning, he deflates to see that you’re fast asleep, a couple documents and your phone in the bed next to you. How many times has he told you he would set up a separate room for you to work in? Each time, you shake your head and say all you need is your phone and laptop, and you can work anywhere. That doesn’t take into account your health, though. The place you relax should not be associated with work, or it leads to a less relaxing sleep cycle. He once read a study about that.

It might be hypocritical, but Jumin misses you. He wants to talk to you so badly it pains him, and not just longing phone calls that always leave him wanting more.

Loosening his tie, he waits for a second before falling hard onto the bed.

Your eyes flutter open immediately, and in your daze you take in your still-dressed husband. With a sleepy smile, you push away all the papers next to you to snuggle into his arms. “Welcome home.”

“Thank you.” One arm secured around your back, he pulls you as close to him as you can. He sees you breathe in his lingering cologne, and it makes him downright giddy that his scent seems to bring you comfort. “Shouldn’t a loving wife be waiting up for her husband?”

You yawn, throwing one leg around him. “Not when the husband returns at an ungodly time and the wife has an early morning site inspection. Did you have dinner?”

“I did. Did you?”

“Mmh. Yeah. I refrigerated some in a container if you wanna take it to work tomorrow.”

This is one of his favorite domestic things you do—and he doesn’t even think you realize how much he appreciates it. If it’s between having something from a five star restaurant or having your cooking, the latter will win each and every time. Sometimes he wants to brag to the whole world, although the most he’ll do is slip how tasty his lunch was today to Assistant Kang (who will almost always respond with a dry, “Glad to hear that, Mr. Han.”).

“I will.” Jumin kisses your lips, smiling when he feels you respond with little effort. “I’ve missed you.”

Your arms snake around his waist as you tuck your head under his chin. Jumin sighs when he feels you kiss his collarbone. “I’ve missed you too.” All he needs is your breath on his skin, or your hands on his face, or your voice filling his ears. It relaxes him instantly. “What’s your schedule like tomorrow?”

“I’ll be in the office all day.” Already he groans, burying his face in your hair in the hopes that it will preemptively soothe the headache sure to form tomorrow. At first he didn’t understand why you insisted on using the same hair conditioner you always did instead of a much more expensive one he could buy for you, but the smell of your hair is so exquisite that now he wholly prefers it (although there is a special kind of tingling in his chest reserved for the moments you smell like him).

“Same. After my inspection, I’m going to be meeting four new clients, and I’m going to guess they all want priority.” You roll your eyes, carding your fingers through his hair. “Tomorrow is also Mr. Wang’s wedding, so I’ll be back late.”

At his wordless whine, you giggle, kissing his cheek. Then after a few seconds of thoughtful silence, a soft hum sounds from your throat.

“I have an idea.”

///

The click of Jaehee’s heels alerts him to her entrance, and Jumin straightens in his chair, accepting the papers that she hands him.

“Thank you. Have you eaten, Assistant Kang?”

Jaehee blinks at him once, then twice, like he’s grown an extra head. Then she slowly nods, the surprised expression melting back into her perfectly professional one once more. “Yes, sir. And you?”

“Not yet. I brought a container my wife packed for me.”

“Honey, I don’t think she really cares to know that.”

“I see. She is a pretty good cook if I recall correctly.”

“Everyone cares,” Jumin insists.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re so sweet, it’s annoying. I want to kiss you all the time.”

“Mr. Han, are you alright? You look a bit out of it—should I call for a doctor?”

“Do it.” He smiles at the papers in his hands. “I won’t stop you.”

“Call…call the doctor?”

“Will you kiss me back, in front of all your employees?”

“Yes. Of course. Whatever you desire.”

“Right away, sir,” Jaehee responds in a sort of strangled voice, and it’s not until he hears the click of her heels again that he remembers she was there. In almost a flash, she leaves his office.

“What did she say?”

Jumin touches the tiny earpiece that’s been on all day, adjusting it only slightly. “I honestly have no idea.”

///

Jumin hates leaving. But he does, well, what is the phrase? Hate to see you go, but love to watch you leave? Something along those lines, is what you’ve said to him. He’s not sure it applies here, since he is actually leaving to go abroad for a few days, and already he’s looking forward to his reunion with you, but he didn’t expect that both of you would be so needy for each other the night before the flight.

It starts with a few kisses, a pout on your lips that he thinks he can kiss away if he just tries hard enough. Telling you in hushed whispers that he’ll miss you an unfathomable amount. Your understanding on a pragmatic level, and your clinginess the second you both laid down. Both are appreciated more than he can say.

“What if I want to watch a movie with you?”

Kiss. “Just wait a week for me, my love.”

“What if the bed is too cold and I need you to warm me up?”

Kiss. “One week, I promise. No more than a week.”

“What if aliens invade the penthouse and I have no one to protect me?”

Kiss. “Tell them that your husband is going to kill them…in a week.”

For a few minutes, it goes on like this, with you proposing other scenarios and Jumin doing his best to both reassure you and make you laugh. He lays kiss upon kiss to your lips, and perhaps subconsciously, they become more ravenous, demanding. Seeking more. Seeking your conviction on just how much you will miss him.

“Jumin,” you breathe into his mouth. Jumin, Jumin. He loves how you say his name.

You’re seeking something as well, the warmth that you are so certain will disappear along with him. On one hand, he hates that his princess has to sleep without him at all, especially when she clearly doesn’t want to. And on the other hand, knowing that you’ll be here, missing him so desperately, makes his heart flutter. You’ll miss him. You’ll miss him.

Within moments, you’re on top of him, seated on his lap and unbuttoning the buttons on his shirt. He’s responding in kind, leaving love bites on your neck as he slides your night robe off your shoulders.

“What if I get lonely?” you ask, more demure than you actually are. “What if I need you, and my fingers aren’t enough?”

His hands press into your hips, hard enough to bruise. You mewl at the slight pain, and he manages to hiss, “I never want your fingers to be enough. If you wait for me, princess, I’ll make you cum more times than you can handle when I get back.” Even if just the idea of you sending him a video or even calling him as you touch yourself was incredibly appealing. Maybe next time. This week, he would have you think of nothing but his own fingers, his tongue, his cock.

And what better way to do that than to remind you how they feel?

“I’ll be gone seven days exactly.” Spoken more to your breasts than you, but he does gaze up at you reverently as he kneads them in his hands. “Maybe tonight I can make you cum once for every day I won’t be here. Would you like that?”

He jerks his thigh up against your core before you can answer, so you nod frantically, mouth falling open. “Uh huh!”

And who is Jumin to ever deny you?

///

The trip right before Valentine’s is the worst. It’s all Jumin can do to finish work before running like a madman through several different stores, picking up this and that. He insists on a different bag for each purchase, despite the clerks gently pointing out that he can put a lipstick tube in the same bag as a pair of heels and nothing will happen, but he doesn’t want to. He would like to see you open every item with a new spark of delight in your eyes.

Usually, he would return late at night, always opting to finish the day’s work and catch a flight right after instead of waiting for morning, because this way he would arrive home, gather you up in his arms as you slept soundly, and then bask in your surprise and delight when you woke the next morning.

And this time would have been no different if one of the departments had not messed up, forcing him to wake up on Valentine’s Day still out of the country. After five days’ worth of work forced into two hours, a shopping spree and a quick call with you, he nearly takes the wheel from the pilot himself before Jaehee begs him to just sit and try to enjoy the ride home. The rest of the trip, they are engaged in a glaring contest every time she looks up from the video she is watching on her laptop.

As soon as the door opens, he hears a surprised cry of his name, and then you’re barreling into him—all the bags in Jumin’s hands fall to the floor in favor of catching you and hefting you up in the air for a spin.

“I thought—“ Kiss. “That you—“ Kiss. “Weren’t coming back today!“ Deeper kiss.

“I couldn’t miss my first Valentine’s with you, my love.” The deepest kiss of all.

The two of you only stop because his bodyguards are coming into the room after him, with more bags. Your eyes widen as you take in all of them, and your sharp mind has already pieced together what’s going on. “Is this all for me?”

“Of course.” Jumin knows that the way you’re latching onto him with such a tight grip is a more priceless gift than anything in these bags. “Why don’t you open everything? I wish to see your reaction.”

And so you do. The makeup, the shoes, the clothes, the jewelry, the books, the decor, all of fine quality and all things well thought out with your interests in mind. With every single item, no matter how big or small, you gasp, or squeal, or simply smile ever so widely. And without fail, you kiss him right on the lips each time.

Jumin is dizzy only halfway into the opening process—he must start buying you gifts far more often if this is the reward he gets.

However, you see beyond just his outward appearance, and you place the next bag he hands you aside without so much as a glimpse at it before clambering onto his lap. Hands on his cheeks, your thumbs smooth over where he’s sure eyebags are forming. “My poor Juju,” you whisper, “you look really tired, honey.”

Honey, honey, honey. How joyful he feels when you call him honey. “As always, you see right through me. I can’t hide from you, can I?”

“I never want you to hide from me.” A sweet kiss pressed to his cheek makes his stomach jump, like he’s a teenage boy with a crush. “Let’s lay down, shall we? We can finish opening everything afterwards.”

Jumin concedes, rising hand in hand with you until you’re both on the bed, curled up in each other. “What a terrible Valentine’s this turned out to be. I’m sorry, my love.”

Your arms wrap around his neck, kissing him slow, soft and smooth. “What are you talking about? You’re here where I can hold you, we’re both off work, and you’ve gifted me more than anyone else ever has or will in my life.”

“Good,” he says, satisfied that he’s set a standard that no one else can ever match for you. “But is that…enough?”

“Enough?” Your tone is incredulous. “Jumin, just you being here is more than enough. I love you so, so much, and I—“ You cut yourself off, slightly backing up as though you’re trying not to overwhelm him (a ridiculous notion, he would love nothing more than for you to overwhelm his every sense). “I cannot believe how lucky I am to have married you.”

This time he kisses you, the idea of sleep slipping further and further away because really, why should he close his eyes when he can only see you when they’re open? Why should he rob himself of the privilege to gaze upon your lovely face and listen to your quiet, soothing voice? Why should he do anything else, eat or drink or work or play, when he could simply kiss you for the rest of his life?

“I love you,” he breathes, pulling you closer because you simply can never be close enough. “Happy Valentine’s, my precious wife.”

///

Of course, the first time your schedule allows you to accompany him on a business trip he’s ecstatic. Finally a week without the headache of returning to an empty hotel room, and instead what will feel like more of a vacation, especially once he completes the necessary work and the two of you can spend the rest of the days lazing by the beach.

Because of the honeymoon, Jumin had become well acquainted with your fear of flying, and had arranged your seats in his private jet to be close together. As the jet takes off, he holds your hand in his as you squeeze, eyes shut tightly for the takeoff. Reassuringly, he kisses your hand, rubbing the back of it while his other hand strokes Elizabeth the Third’s head through the carrier she’s in.

“Poor Elizabeth,” you manage to whimper, still looking quite pale even after the takeoff is done, “I hope she doesn’t get airsick.”

“She doesn’t,” Jumin reassures. Elizabeth is used to such flights, unlike you. He’d much rather you focus on your own health right now.

The stewardess for the flight comes through with the cart of food and drinks. “Anything for you, Mr. Han?”

“A glass of wine.”

“Of course, sir. And you, Mrs. Han?”

“Oh, um…” You smile sheepishly up at her. “Would you happen to have apple juice?”

The woman blinks once, then, as though she’s fighting back a laugh, says, “Apple juice, ma’am?”

“Is that a problem?” Jumin cuts in sharply before you can answer, glaring daggers.

“No, no! O-of course I can give you apple juice, ma’am, I didn’t mean to offend—“

“No offense taken.” Even nauseous and teased, you smile kindly, eyes lighting up when you have your drink. If he remembers correctly, he used to drink apple juice when he would get airsick as a child as well.

When the stewardess leaves, you lean over and press an apple-tasting kiss to his lips, and he catches a few drops of the juice in his mouth. It tastes yummy, or maybe it’s just the taste of you that he likes.

Probably the latter. Either way, he’s eager to get this vacation started.

///

“I feel so good that you’re here. Thank you so much for coming. I…never want to let you go.”

…

“I’ve trapped you here, haven’t I?” he asks one night, after he thinks you’ve fallen asleep.

You’re wide awake, though, and he feels your lips on his throat as you whisper, “I’ve never once felt trapped with you, Jumin.”

///

You’re a lightweight, and it’s the most adorable thing Jumin has ever seen. Including cat photos. Including Elizabeth the Third. And you don’t realize just how cute you are, which only makes you cuter.

“Juju,” you whine, when he starts to guide you to bed.

“You have to sleep, my dear.” Almost smugly, he places a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Sleep and allow me to take care of you in the morning.”

The protest you seemed to be ready to fire back morphs into a happy giggle as you throw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his midsection. “I do like when you take care of me.”

“Likewise.”

For some reason, that sends you into more giggles as you press against him. “You talk so smart like. I love when you use big words.”

Biting back a smile, Jumin raises a brow. “Is likewise a big word?”

“Anything is a big word when you say it.” You kiss him softly, sliding your hands in his hair. You love messing up his hair, almost as much as he loves letting you do it. “You’re so smart. So clever. Your brain is like…” To exaggerate your point, you lean your head away, with his hands on your back to keep steady. “Soooo huge.”

“Not the only thing,” he hums slyly.

“Jumin!” Laughing, you hit his shoulder, only for him to tug you in close, making you squeak. The only downside to how well you two know each other now is that he doesn’t get to see your beautifully embarrassed face, but he still gets some wins when he catches you off guard.

“I’m only kidding, my love.” Watching your lips part for him as he leans in, Jumin kisses you this time, gently sucking your lower lip between his teeth. Let no one say he wasn’t out and open with his oral fixation when it came to you. “I’m honored to know you find me intelligent.”

You beam, nearly blinding him with how brilliant your smile is. “Intelligent, and funny. So, so funny. I love your jokes.” Now you turn your cheek, placing sloppy kisses along his jaw. “And handsome. I have the most handsome husband in the world.”

Jumin, only now realizing the difference between being happy and being giddy and knowing he’s both, can only close his eyes, tilting his head back. “Ironic for you to say, considering no one with your beauty has ever existed before nor will exist again.”

The way your cheeks flush make him realize that he, too, must be quite tipsy. Surely his stomach does not flip so violently just to see how your eyes glow at his praise.

“I love you.” You swallow, and he watches the movement of your throat closely. “Do you know how much?”

He exhales, not having realized he inhaled before. “M-more than is reasonable, I presume.”

“A lot more than is reasonable,” you whisper before kissing him again. This one is different, he can tell. Something more desperate. More wanting. More likely to make him lose his mind.

How does he know? It’s because you’re not just kissing him, you’re also borderline riding the knee he’s slotting between your legs. With a whine, you tug on his collar, as though you want him closer. Need him closer.

Losing his mind is just the beginning.

“Sit on the couch.” The tone with which you beg makes his already hardening cock twitch. “Please, Jumin.”

He obeys—how could he not obey?—and just the sight of you dropping to your knees to unbuckle his pants has him throwing his head back with a lustful groan. How did he get here? How did he get so lucky?

You kiss the head of his cock, and Jumin is gone.

When you start bobbing your head, eagerly sucking with your eyes closed in concentration, it takes every inch of willpower he has ever had to not cum immediately, so that this can last. With every slow caress of your tongue, he can feel himself getting lost in his own base senses, every coherent thought fading away and leaving only an animalistic need.

“Princess,” he moans, fingers in your hair. His words escape him in a slurred, barely coherent manner. “I, ahh, won’t last—shit—”

Coming inside your warm, wet mouth is not in the top five moments he remembers when he thinks of his favorite times with you, because he likes to think he’s classier than that, but regardless, he’s never going to forget this.

///

Growing up, the one trait that he was always told to avoid and to find disdainful in others was laziness. There is nothing worse than a person who is not efficient. People who waste time just doing simple tasks are not worth his time, he was told.

But surely, surely, that does not apply to you. (Or maybe it’s a silly lesson in the first place, another one to add the list he has started to garner since he married you.)

It does not apply when you have to get up early for work and you sadly try cuddling with him in the five minutes you have left to remain in bed. Most days Jumin leaves before you, pressing a kiss to the lips of the princess in bed before heading out. Your parted lips in sleep do such a number on him that he has to make sure not to linger too long.

Days where your job demands you wake with him are no less enjoyable, and perhaps even more so as he gets to witness your clinginess. Jumin tugs you to the bathroom, where you close your eyes and rest your head on his chest as both of you brush your teeth. When you finally make it to the kitchen, he seats you on the chair by the counter and amuses himself by watching your sleepy eyes follow him while he makes a quick breakfast.

“Maybe I could eat ‘n your lap?” you ask cutely, poking at your scrambled eggs with a fork.

“My dear,” Jumin answers, intertwining your fingers to kiss the back of your hand, “I would love nothing more, but you will fall asleep again.”

Not even an argument as you nod with a lazy smile, head falling forward on the counter. “I want to fall asleep again. How do you do this every day?”

“It’s what I’ve always done.” He’s finished with his eggs, so he stands, sweeping your hair aside to lean down and press a kiss to your nape. You squeal, squirming away as he catches you and tugs you to him, watching you immediately give up this play fight and snuggle into his chest to catch a bout of standing shut-eye. “Now come, Driver Kim is waiting to drop us both off.”

You shake your head, clutching onto him stubbornly.

“You can sleep on my lap in the car.”

And he feels inordinately pleased with how fast you move after that.

///

The days that he knows you will be at the penthouse when he returns, there’s always an extra breath in his steps, as if the air itself knows he must return home immediately.

Tonight, for example. He has a whole night planned. The two of you would cook the next thing to try on that list of recipes you printed and excitedly taped up in the kitchen, then after dinner he plans to play some soft music and waltz you around the rather spacious living room, and then both of you could go for a swim in the pool, and the night would end with you dozing off in his arms.

A perfect night. The kind he dreams about, the kind that he never can quite believe are real.

When he opens the door, he doesn’t hear any call of his name nor is he tackled in a hug, which only makes his shoulders deflate slightly. Elizabeth the Third softly mrrows at him from where she’s sitting on the couch. Placing a kiss atop her head, he pokes in to check a few rooms, searching for his wife.

You’re nowhere to be found. The only place left to check is the bedroom. His sweetheart usually doesn’t fall asleep so early, though.

He opens the door, then freezes in his tracks.

With a couple of candles lit up around the room, you sit on the bed, nothing on except the set of lingerie he ordered a few weeks ago at your request, black as the night sky (“because it reminds me of you”). A few pillows support you as you lean back, eyes trained on him. There’s a glass of wine in your hands, and another on the table next to you clearly reserved for him.

You take a small sip, and some drops purposefully miss your lips and slowly drip down your neck, down over the swell of your breasts.

“Care to join me, husband?”

Jumin swallows.

None of his plans end up coming to fruition that night, and he doesn’t mind one bit.

///

(You’ve pointed out how the most random things turn him on—when you wear his clothes, but specifically his striped shirts, when you let him buy something ludicrously expensive for you, when you do simple things to take care of him, when you wait for him at home after work, cat ears—cat ears, cat ears, cat ears!—and the rare moments where he gets to see you pissed off.

But he’d only responded how the things you were into were equally as random—seeing him disheveled after a hard day’s work or a visit to the gym, the way he answered business calls simply by saying Jumin Han speaking, what do you need, and every time you’re naked on his lap while he’s fully clothed.

Shall I remind you how desperate you get, my dear? he growls into your ear. Your cheeks flush, and Jumin reaches for the ribbon in the drawer, even more impatient than you are.)

///

There are other times where Jumin will arrive home and if you aren’t leaping into his arms, kissing him full on the lips as he spins you around or pins you to the wall depending on the mood, you’re sitting on the couch, typing away on your laptop either for your job or for the RFA.

In those moments, he finds himself easily sliding his arms around you and burying his face in your neck, absolutely reveling in the subconscious way you rub his nape and kiss his hair.

Sometimes you both will exchange stories of your day, expanding on something a phone call simply couldn’t cover or something that perhaps you had wanted to say in person to fully soak in the reaction (you seem to particularly enjoy how he insults the difficult clients you tell him about). Other times, there is a serene silence, only broken by Elizabeth the Third’s purring and the clack of your keyboard keys.

You smell so good, all the time. He wonders if he should be capitalizing on the perfume you use so that no one else can buy it. That way this scent would solely be yours, just like he is. Something about that idea blooms a warmth in his chest.

The best part of the night comes when you finish, closing the laptop and setting it aside before wrapping your arms around him. “I love you,” you say, only for his ears, just like how your lips are only for his skin, just like how your scent is only for his nose, just like how Jumin is only here to be yours entirely.

///

In the past, when he’s fallen ill, he’s either ignored it or simply just taken the necessary amount of time to recover. The last time he was pampered like this was as a child by his nannies. And even their doting paled in comparison to yours (but then, didn’t everything, when it came to you).

Because this. This, is heavenly.

Every single ounce of your affection is solely for him. Your soup that you feed him, your fingers stroking his hair, your voice sweetly singing him to sleep. Your lips on his forehead, whispering, “How are you feeling, Juju?”

Granted, because he’s sick, he can’t fully appreciate it without the feeling that his body is turning against him. But it’s worth it, it’s easily worth it.

So, the day that he wakes up with a low temperature, feeling absolutely fine, he still manages to cough pitifully and throw out the word to Jaehee that he simply has to take another day off.

You have a knowing smile on your face, but when he slips his arms around your waist, with his face buried in your neck, you still hold him just as warmly, and Jumin is so, so, so in love with you. Nothing could possibly stand to be better than this. One hand absentmindedly strokes his hair while you type on your phone with the other hand, communicating with someone from work.

Your phone starts to ring; he only shifts minimally to get closer as you answer it. “Hey, what’s up?”

He can hear the person who called—it’s one of your friends. “Hey! Check your messages, I won that ukulele I told you I would win last time.”

The sound of your laugh is so melodious, he’d do anything to get drunk on it. “Win another one for me, I’ll hang it up in my closet.”

“Yeah, right.” Your friend snorts. “I wish you were able to come. It’s been so long since we’ve been here.”

“I know, but Jumin really doesn’t feel well. I couldn’t just leave him at home alone.” As though your friend can see, you plant a kiss on his forehead. “We’ll go another time, definitely.”

“I’ll hold you to it. Alright, I have to go. Give the husband all my love, I hope he feels better.”

“Will do. Bye, have fun!”

With that, you hang up, resuming the scrolling through your phone and the stroking of his hair. Jumin is still, for good reason.

You had meant to go out with your friends today. And due to his not-actually-sick state, you had canceled on them.

Hadn’t he told you to put him second to your own self? But he can’t pin this on you, not when he was the one faking. A terrible feeling begins to rise in his chest, causing him to move away from you and stare at you with a guilty expression.

“Is your neck finally tired of…” You trail off when you look at him, furrowing your brows. “What happened?”

“You were meant to go out today.”

A small frown forms on your face. “Um…we made plans, yeah. But you were sick—“

“I wasn’t,” he confesses, ironically sick to his stomach. “I just wanted to take another day off and spend some time with you.”

“I know that.”

“I—you know?”

The frown on your face is replaced by a tiny smile, as you tug gently to bring him back into your arms. “You’re not exactly subtle.”

“Yes I am.” He pouts, still upset but more calm now that you don’t seem disappointed.

“Honey, the one time I kissed your finger after you got a papercut, you somehow got a papercut on every finger the following week.”

Jumin blushes, but you’re not wrong—he just craves your attention. You simply make everything better.

“More importantly,” and now you pull him into your chest, settling back into the same comfortable position with a kiss on his forehead, “I’m faking just as much as you, because I love it when you do things like this. Why would I complain? I get to spend time with you.”

This is what it feels like, Jumin is certain, to be loved. To be cared for and adored so deeply that it leaves an ache in one’s chest. “The next time,” he murmurs, as your hand finds purchase in his hair once more, “The next time you would like to go out to an amusement park with your friends, please let me know. I can buy it out for the day.” A thoughtful pause. “Or forever.”

Another soft kiss, he’s tempted to keep going, to make more and more outrageous promises just to earn each and every press of your lips to his skin. “My friends will appreciate that. I think the park is already owned by C&R, actually.” You chuckle. “Some fast passes though? I wouldn’t say no.”

Fast passes? He’ll ask you what in the world those are just as soon as he finishes kissing you (something a fake sick person can, thankfully, afford to do).

///

A soft knock on the door.

“Mother?” He makes sure to keep his voice to a polite volume. “I’ve played with all my toys. May I please come out now?”

Silence.

Jumin clears his throat, trying his best not to look behind him, just three steps down. It’s dark down there, and he knows it is not logical to be afraid of the dark, but even the logic does little to quell the growing fear inside him.

“Mother? It…it has been a few hours now.” Fourteen hours, he counted on the tiny clock that ticks a little too loudly in the basement. “May I please be let out? I’m starting to get hungry.”

That’s a lie, but he doesn’t think she’ll know. The truth is he began to get hungry hours ago, and is now close to starving. As if on cue, his stomach growls.

Jumin knocks again, the dread he feels growing with every second. “Please, Mother, I’ll be good. I’ll play with my toys. I’ll be normal. Please let me out.”

None of it makes any sense to him. In all the books he reads, none of the mothers lock their sons up in the basement. But then maybe none of the sons are as strange and abnormal as he is. They didn’t need to be locked up like he did.

Still, even if he deserves this, the loneliness is starting to scare him.

“Please.” Childish tears start to prick at his eyes. “Mother? I don’t want to be here anymore. I’m sorry. I’ll do better, I promise.”

The only response he gets is the silence, beckoning him to come back to the darkness where he belongs. With a trembling lip, he turns to face it once more.

The doorknob jiggles.

He whips his head back, not daring to believe it. Is this punishment finally over?

The first thing he’s going to do after he eats is call Jihyun, ask him if he’d like to go to the park nearby. Anything to go outside, in the light, with other people.

Except, to his horror, when the door finally opens, it’s not his mother standing at the top, but his stepmother.

“No,” Jumin whispers, stumbling back. He misses one step and trips, hands on the cement floor as he stares, terrified, at the woman. “Please, no. Where’s Mother?”

The woman at the top laughs, a sound that seems to make others happy but only serves to suffocate him further. He’ll choose to stay in the darkness for a hundred more hours before going upstairs to see her. “What’s this? Another woman in your life, Jumin? What a lady killer!”

He shakes his head desperately, as though to tell her that there’s no one, there’s no need for her to get possessive.

It doesn’t work.

“I’m your mother, Jumi.” He hates that nickname. “Shouldn’t you spend more time with me? You know I love our time together. I know you love it too.”

No, no, no, no, no. He’s on his feet in an instant, scrambling back away from her as fast as possible. His back hits the shelf, no longer a child but an adult, and yet still equally as pathetic.

“Your father doesn’t even pay attention to me anymore. You’re all I have, Jumi.” Her eyes turn cold. “But it looks like you’ve found someone else, haven’t you? You’ve replaced me so easily.”

Now her gaze is focused somewhere else. Jumin follows it, peers through the darkness, only to see…

You.

Relief floods his chest all at once. You are his solace, to hold close and worship. You are the only person to ever understand him, to love him without hurting him. You have accepted him no matter how much he’s shown you that he doesn’t deserve any of your care. As long as you are by his side, he can face anything.

“Jumin.” Even his name sounds so much nicer coming from you. Everything and everyone else seems to melt away.

He takes one step towards you.

You speak again, but it doesn’t sound the same this time.

“Jumin.” Now that he can see your face properly, you look…angry. “Don’t come any closer.”

Immediately, he stops, and that sharp fear grips his throat, squeezing.

“You’re fucked up, Jumin.”

The words spit out of you like a spear, hitting him right in the center.

It can’t be you talking. You don’t say things like that. You always tell him you love him, that you understand him, that you adore him.

But maybe you’ve just…had enough.

Tears begin to spill from his eyes. You stand before him, his heart in your hands, and you look at him with such disgust that he hopes the darkness in here opens up and swallows him.

“I’m leaving,” you say firmly, “don’t follow me.”

“Please,” he gasps, shakily reaching a hand out. “Please don’t leave me here, my love.”

But you don’t listen. You step up the stairs, grip the door, and with one last look of vitriol, you slam it shut, damning him to the darkness forever.

Jumin wakes with a gasp that’s really a sob, head jerking up and slamming against yours.

“Ah!” You grip your forehead, wincing in pain from your position above him. “Ow ow ow, that hurt!”

Like he’s in auto mode, Jumin sits up, touching your cheek with a terrified expression. “I’m so sorry, my love, let me call the doctor. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, I’m fine.” You wince again, rubbing your forehead. “It’ll probably bruise later, but I can deal with it.”

He hurt you. He hurt you.

But you don’t have any of the hate that your dream counterpart did in her eyes. Instead, yours are filled with concern, and you cup his cheeks with such gentleness that he closes his eyes, immediately melting in your hands.

“Were you having a nightmare?” You kiss his forehead. “You were tossing and turning and mumbling in your sleep.”

As much as he wants to bask in your worry for centuries, it doesn’t stop the guilt that threatens to spill. “I apologize for waking you, my love. And for hitting you. I—I was having a nightmare, yes, but I’m alright now.”

“Jumin.”

“If you’d like, I can make some tea for you to help you go back to sleep—“

“Jumin.” Your lips are on his forehead again. “You’re crying, sweetheart.”

So he is. It’s strange he didn’t realize, but there are indeed tears wetting his cheeks. He opens his eyes to meet your gaze, looking at him so sincerely and with such care that this time he actually feels the tears pour down.

“Oh,” you breathe, brows meeting in concern. Your thumbs wipe his tears away diligently, and your lips begin to kiss every spot you wipe. Jumin trembles under your touch, hating himself for being so pathetic in front of you and simultaneously considering crying forever so that you stay here forever too. “What is it, honey? Please tell me how I can help.”

He wants to. But all he can manage to do is grip the back of your shirt in his hands, bury his face in your shoulder, and sob.

Not even for a second do you let him go. He doesn’t know how long he stays in your arms, seconds, minutes or hours. He cries, and cries, and cries, until his eyes feel swollen. and all the while your hand strokes his hair, your lips kiss his cheek, and your voice comes out in soothing whispers.

It’s okay.

I’m right here, I’m here for you.

You have me forever.

We’re going to get through this.

I promise I’ll stay with you as long as you want.

Even though he hasn’t told you what his nightmare was about, you still somehow know exactly what to say.

Even when he finally tires himself out, Jumin can’t stand the thought of not being held by you. He’s never felt this safe, this protected, in his entire life. He continues to grip your shirt tightly, breathing in and out, chest heaving. Any second now, he thinks. Any second now, you’re going to pull away and see how awful he is when he clings to you again, like a child.

You do no such thing. Instead, you lean back against the headboard, gently guiding his head to rest on your chest. It’s not the most comfortable position, but he shifts so that he’s sitting curled into you and pulls you forward gently to place a pillow behind your back. This way, he can hear your heartbeat.

And it’s that steady rhythm that makes his eyes start to droop.

But if he falls asleep again, he risks having another nightmare.

“Sleep,” you murmur, kissing his temple. Jumin’s eyes close on instinct. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The promise knocks him right out.

///

When he wakes, you’ve kept your promise, and you’re in the same unfortunate position, head lulled to the side as you snooze.

An indescribable feeling settles upon him. It’s not just one feeling, in fact, but multiple. Guilt, because he forced you to sleep like this throughout the night. Gratitude, because he’s pretty sure he’s in the arms of an angel sent from above. And most importantly, he feels white hot love, because he has clearly married the only person in this world worth a damn.

And as much as he wants to stay like this, he knows that will surely not bode well for the chiropractor appointment he plans to schedule for you. So Jumin slips out of your embrace gently, taking good care to lay your head down on the pillow. With you picturesque in front of him, he places a kiss on your forehead, whispering, “Thank you.”

“Ju,” you mumble in your sleep. Your hand seems to reach for something, stopping when he intertwines his fingers with yours.

An angel, indeed.

Jumin gets up fully, taking the time to brush his teeth and freshen up before going into the kitchen to whip something up for breakfast. He wasn’t expected at the office until after lunch, so he had time to really make something nice. Chocolate chip pancakes, instead of his usual strawberry.

As he makes the batter, he thinks. Last night was…an anomaly. There should be no reason for him to dream of people that no longer matter anymore. His present is the most important, and his present is, thanks to you, leagues and leagues ahead of his past anyway. He wants to forget it all, forget his mother and stepmother and even Sarah Choi, who, while she hadn’t made an appearance last night, had been in his nightmares more than once, in a bleak alternate reality where he actually married her.

But he knows who he really married. It’s the person whose arms are sneaking around his waist right now. You.

“Morning.” Your voice is exceedingly pleasant, especially when it’s cooed in his ear. “You’re going in late, right?”

“Yes.” He places a kiss on the back of your hand, pressing his lips to each knuckle. “And you, my princess?”

“All from home today, my prince.”

Inwardly, he feels a quick twinge of irritation. “I wish I could spend the whole day with you. I should call out.”

“I’m never going to dissuade you of that.” You kiss him right on the nape of his neck; Jumin shudders. “But it’s up to you.”

“I’ll end up burning these pancakes if you keep distracting me.”

“Maybe that’s what I want.” Your laugh is so pretty, he thinks, and he didn’t think he could describe laughter as pretty before you. “Um, before I get too off topic…don’t you think we should talk, Jumin?”

He knew you weren’t going to simply forget the fact that he had cried himself back to sleep last night. Luckily, before you’d woken, he’d already prepared for such a scenario.

“I apologize for disrupting your sleep. I had a disturbing dream, but it will not happen again.”

For a second, he thinks it’s enough to stop you from asking any further questions, up until he feels your arms slide out from under him. The next thing he knows, you’re turning off the stove before he can start on the next batch of pancakes.

Then, you’re gently turning him so he’s facing you, looking at you right in the eye. Jumin has seen that look before. It’s way too determined for even his stubborn nature, and it always comes out when you’re about to do whatever you want (a rare delight, given your selfless nature, but one he enjoys every time).

Your hands loop around his neck, and you kiss his cheek. Jumin closes his eyes as you speak softly. “Won’t you tell me what’s bothering you, love?”

It’s amazing that you think anything could bother him when you’re this close, calling him that.

“Just a nightmare,” he says softly, but you clearly don’t buy it.

“I have nightmares too, it’s very rare that one of them affects me that much after I wake up.”

“A bad nightmare.”

The other version of you flashes in his head again. You’re fucked up, Jumin. But she’s not you, and even though he thinks for a terrible second that you’re going to shove him away, you pull him in for a hug instead, warm and welcoming and cozy. The scent of your nameless-brand shampoo fills his senses—it makes him desperately want to go back to bed.

“Please,” you breathe on his neck. “That’s what you were saying last night. Please, Mother. Please, no. Please, don’t leave me.”

His hands grip the back of your shirt.

“Please talk to me, Jumin,” you plead. “Please.”

Somehow, he has to keep from crying this time. How pathetic can one man be? But he also has to acquiesce to your request, because you’re you, and he cannot deny you no matter how hard he tries. If you want him bare, you shall have him bare. If you want him destroyed, he will destroy himself in an instant.

“Alright,” he concedes, trembling.

Not wanting the kitchen, where you and him cook together and laugh together (and a couple other things too), to become associated with these tainted memories, he guides you to the couch, hands holding yours. You promptly get into your favorite position, on his lap with your knees on each side. With a sigh, he rests his head on your shoulder, the fabric of your shirt seemingly smoothing out the creases in his forehead.

Your lips on his skin and your whispered words of encouragement give him a courage he wasn’t aware he possessed. Jumin talks.

“You have not met my mother yet. There is…good reason for that. A week before our wedding, she sent me the profile of a woman she wanted me to marry. I refused, of course. But that is the first time she has reached out to me in years.” He clears his throat. “She and I did not have a pleasant relationship. I think some part of me was very disappointing to her, because instead of giving her the true challenge of parenthood I molded to exactly what she wanted me to be. She recognized that I was…abnormal.”

In the span of a few seconds, your eyes have hardened more than he’s ever seen them harden before. This isn’t determined. This isn’t even pissed. This is raw anger.

“Abnormal?” There’s a bite to your words. “Is that her way of saying she was blessed with an intelligent, kind child?”

“You are kind,” Jumin whispers, cupping your chin to press a short kiss to your lips. “As a child, I was perhaps more robotic than I am now. I took to the world of business rather quickly.”

“You were brilliant, Jumin. Were and still are.”

If he kisses you after your every reassurance, the two of you will never leave this couch (not that he necessarily minds that idea). The more disturbing risk is that he will break down in front of you, if he starts elaborating, not to mention when he begins to talk about his stepmother as well.

But that’s a risk that Jumin can now accept. He understands now, that he hasn’t known love before you, and that there will be a great many times he will feel afraid, but he also knows that there is no one in the world he trusts more.

Taking a deep breath, he continues.

///

Jumin is addicted—addicted—to making you cum.

The face you make when you orgasm—eyes shut, mouth open in a silent scream, head thrown back—is the most beautiful thing he’s seen in his life. He considers spending eternity with his head between your legs, recklessly licking you to completion again and again.

The sounds you make—God. They have him rolling his hips against the sheets, so close to finishing just from your taste. It’s an obsession now, one that’s been growing ever since you two were married. A stressful day or a bad meeting or even projects being set back for whatever reason, Jumin can get all that frustration out as long as you allow him to spread your legs and devour you. As long as you squeal on his tongue, make a mess of his face, cum on his lips once or twice or more. He only stops when you beg him to.

He could taste you forever.

But he reconsiders this commitment after he experiences the feeling of you coming on his cock once more.

A choked cry escapes him when he feels your walls clench around him. For a second, he can’t move, too lost in the way your eyes roll back and your nails dig into his skin. It’s the most pleasurable pain he’s ever had the fortune of experiencing.

“Ju-min,” you whine, legs clasping around his waist as he continues to thrust lazily, seeking his own release, “more, please.”

It really is always nice to know that he’s not the only one affected, enthralled and addicted to this madness.

///

Returning home to silence is still better than returning home to the sound of soft crying.

Jumin is on high alert in an instant, not bothering to take his suit or even his shoes off. You’re curled up on the couch, wiping your cheeks aggressively when you catch sight of him.

“J-Jumin, I didn’t hear you come in. Um…” You swallow, dried tears still obvious on your face. “I haven’t made anything, let me call the chef.”

He crosses the rug over to you almost blindly. There’s nothing else in his head, only you—your tears—you’re crying—you’re crying and he wasn’t here. His hands cup your face, wiping another fresh tear that rolls down your cheek as you look up at him, shaking.

“Who did it?” There’s a white-hot anger pulsing inside of him. He never sees you cry. “Tell me who I need to kill.”

A soft gasp escapes you, and you shake your head frantically as he sinks to his knees, taking your hands in his own and pressing reverent kisses to your knuckles. “N-no one did anything—I promise I’m fine, h-honey, please get up—“

Your laptop is set to the side, but the only thing on it is an email draft, giving him no clues at all. The last thing he desires is for you to have to recount that which distresses you, but he wants, needs, to ensure that you never get upset again.

“My love,” he swears, pressing his palms to yours, “please, tell me what happened. Was it something I did? One of the employees in the building?”

You whisper frantically, “No,” but even as you do another fresh wave of tears drip down your face.

Jumin wants to scream, wants to hurt someone, whoever is responsible, but he’s helpless, and so he lets intuition guide him, rising up until he’s next to you on the couch, and he’s pulling you in.

With a firm grip on his suit, you bury your face in his chest, shoulders shaking. In this moment, he recalls the predicament from that night, when the roles were reversed. How you’d simply let him cry, and held him all the while. Is he capable of…can he possibly bring you the same peace you bring him? Could you allow him to comfort you in the same way?

No matter what, he’s going to try. Anything for you.

Placing a kiss to your hair, he tightens his arms around you and murmurs sweet nothings, making sure you hear all of them. Everything from you’re the strongest person i know to i’m here for you, my love, i’ll be with you till the end of time.

“It’s just so much,” you finally hiccup, sniffing, “I’m busy all the time, they dump every project on me, I never get a chance to just take some time for myself and breathe! I’m always on some call, writing some email, visiting some area, I just want it all to stop. And you’re busier than me, and you do it so effortlessly, I can’t imagine how pathetic I must look compared to you.”

“You’re worth a hundred of me.” His voice is fierce, and he meets your eyes with his entire honest conviction. “Nothing about you is pathetic. You…you’re hardworking, you’re talented, you’re brave, and you’re the kindest person I know. I do not deserve you. I’ve never deserved you.”

“Please don’t say that,” you whimper, face still wet. He squeezes you tighter.

“I apologize. This isn’t about me. You need a break, sweetheart. Please, just request a week or at least a day off.”

“Jumin, I can’t—”

“I’ll request off too. Whenever you get a break, I’ll schedule one at the same time, and then I’ll take you wherever you desire, or we can simply spend it in the penthouse, and lay in bed all day. Or I could buy your company,” he half threatens, half jokes.

You let out a weak laugh, sinking into him, but he feels the tension in your shoulders release just slightly. Placing a kiss at the top of your head, he quickly texts for the chef to come by within the next hour, then tosses his phone aside to hold you better, which is when he catches sight of your own phone. On the screen is an image of the chatroom—a screenshot, he realizes, since his own messages are in it and he hasn’t been on the messenger today.

Your gaze follows his, and a slight smile finally forms on your face. “Messages from when we first met. Ah, the day I came to your apartment, I think.”

Oh, no. To put it lightly, those days were not a good time for him (although he’d never say such a thing, because he finds it cruel to say that some of the hardest days of his life included the one where he met the most wonderful woman in the world). Heaven knows what foolish things he’d said, he’s tried to block out most of the times that didn’t include the sight of you in front of him.

“They calm me down,” you admit softly, “the screenshots I have. I’m glad I took them, I have almost a hundred pictures that remind me of all the butterflies I would get when I talked to you. Knowing you’re my husband is the biggest calm of the storm.” Your cheeks are still stained with tears, but in your eyes is a newfound admiration as you and him look at each other, as though you have all the time in the world.

Jumin’s heart seizes.

“I’ll request a week off.” You reach up, a thumb on his cheek. “Thank you, Jumin.”

Surely, he thinks, being needed by you is the best experience of all.

///

“Thank you.” Your voice breaks the silence, muffled on his skin. “For letting me love you, and for loving me.”

Your husband kisses you, impatient as always, and you adore it.

“You’re welcome,” he breathes.

#jumin x reader #jumin x mc #jumin han #mystic messenger #mysme x reader #jumin han x reader #jumin han x mc #jumin han smut #valkyrie stories

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hollowtakami · 3 months

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LOVE DRUNK

Keigo Takami x AFAB!reader

CONTENT; nsfw, minors dni! slight corruption, soft dom/needy keigo, reader referred to as partner/implied to be a virgin, anatomy referred to as clit, pussy, cunt, etc.

WORD COUNT; 203

AUTHOR’S NOTE; my first time writing smut! it’s pretty short but i need to get this idea out of my head lol! take care of yourselves<3

Imagine; Keigo gently corrupting his innocent partner, hands tracing their skin like he’s searching a map, guiding them through a whole new world. He marks and bites every landmark, every sweet spot; there’ll be an archipelago of love on their skin in no time.

Soft hands slipping off underwear, benign whispers of reassurance as he parts their thighs and, fuck, almost melts when they whine for more; such desperate noises. Keigo almost short-circuits when his fingers explore their pussy, tight and soft, so perfect.

Soon enough, he can’t help but have his face deep between their legs. He’s drunk on their cunt, hands squeezing their thighs as he laps up and down with his tongue, sucking and kissing their puffy clit as his partner’s hands find their way into his hair.

He groans at the feeling of having his hair pulled, plumage ruffling, raspy moans vibrating against their cunt. He’s sloppy, driven by their whorish whimpering as their breathing hitches, gets faster. One final cry as the coil in his partner’s stomach snaps and he’s eating all he can of their first orgasm, lips and stubble slick with white.

“Did so good, baby,” he’d say, breathless, as his tongue cleans up his mess.

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izjeon · 6 months

Text

N. S. F. W.

hero!hawks x assistant!reader

genres: fanfic, smut, [p with a sprinkle of plot], drabble series

word count: 1.2k

warnings: MINORS GET OUT!!! dub-con (both aren’t sober), afab/f!reader, tiny mention of drugs, implied infidelity, hawks & his heat problems, mirror sex, marking, unprotected sex, unrealistic sex, overstimulation [would it be my fic if there wasn’t any], copious amounts of cum, cervix fucking [shameful i know], heavy breeding kink, a lot of creampies, and implied impregnation [that will be dealt with in the otherother drabbles because we do not condone mistakes guys!!].

series masterlist: N.S.F.W

+a/n: one day, i’ll have a fic without creampies… one day 😔.

++ “look at you, little dove… you were fucking made for me.”

drabble one - ‘forgetting something?’

hero!hawks that ends up finding assistant!reader in a nightclub and engages in certain inappropriate acts with them, accidentally triggering his heat. one sniff of the club’s air and he realises you’re ovulating… and, of course, he ends up fucking you dumb in the club’s bathroom, breeding you like tomorrow doesn’t exist.

but… he’s forgetting something.

𖥻 not safe for work

keigo didn’t remember.

he didn’t remember how you’d found each other in this club— the hero and his assistant, both high on ecstasy. he didn’t remember how it was the way you were grinding on him that triggered his heat that wasn’t due for another 2 weeks. he didn’t remember how it took only one sniff of your fertile body before he was dragging you away to the bathroom and fucking you like you were his.

but that didn’t matter.

“h-hawks!” you cried out, slapping a hand onto the tiny bathroom’s mirror to steady yourself against his constant and desperate pounding. your pleads and moans only seemed to drive him further into his mania, fucking his cum deeper into your stuffed cunt.

you could feel his cum sloshing around your womb already.

panting, he let his eyes drop away from you in the mirror and fall to the vivid evidence of your breeding.

it was so crude. how your creaming cunt swallowed his cock as he drove into you and how it clung to him as he drove out of you, moaning lewd squelches; how his seed spluttered out of your pussy with every thrust; how you both sloppily joined together as one.

“oh god.”

it was everything to hawks.

the hero’s clouded vision dragged up your body to the base of your neck. obviously, you were unmarked. he didn’t even think you knew about marking or any his quirk’s shit. but still, mind shrouded in primal instinct, keigo felt a unbearable ache in his gums. it was a tempting burn, it dragged him towards your virgin skin.

somewhere behind the heat in his mind, he was on his knees— begging himself to not do it; to not forget what he was already forgetting.

but hawks was never one to listen.

his mouth clamped down on your skin, canines breaking through your claimed flesh, and he marked you.

unaware of the consequences behind his actions, he slurred a moan on your tainted skin and his drooping eyes beamed up at yours in the mirror with a drunken smile.

naturally, a wail tore out of your throat at the stabbing sensation burning your neck, and your body fell forward, away from the mad man. but keigo was quick to cross a hand over your chest and drag you back down his cock, loving the way your cunt swallowed him whole. the way he slipped back into your overflowing cunt distracted you from the sting of his marking. drunk on the lewd way he fucked the shit out of you, you gurgled a string of unintelligible moans, pushing your ass back against his pelvis.

“oh, fuck,” you keened.

as quick as he was to pull you back to him, desperate keigo snapped back into your cunt, battering your soft cervix. lost in overstimulation, you heard his groans behind the wet, obscene sounds of your stuffed, drooling cunt, filled to the brim with hawks’ virile cum, and his soaked, slapping balls, soaked with the remnants of both of your previous orgasms.

“n-no, ‘s too much,” you sobbed. your knees were buckling, body struggling to endure hawks’ pounding, and your vision blurred with hot tears, clit throbbing with overstimulation. desperate, keigo ripped his hand away from the sink to hoist you back up on his dick, slamming deeper into your pussy.

his heat would never let him pull out.

his lips had barely left his bruising mark before you heard him snap a guttural groan, “you can take it.”

removing his hand from your chest, he grabbed your face, smushing your cheeks together, and forced you to look at him. at this angle, heat-oppressed keigo could finally see his full effect on you, not obstructed by the smudges on the mirror anymore. streaks of mascara stained your cheeks, your lips were swollen and a bruised red, and your pussy clung to him like there was no tomorrow.

he groaned, “look at you, little dove… you were fucking made for me.”

his lips met yours with desperation. you melted into the kiss of the national hero, chasing his tongue. you could feel his thrusts became more sloppy than they already were, and he could feel his final climax tightening around his mind. slapping a hand onto your clit, his fingers wrestled with your erect clit, tweaking and smushing the throbbing bud into your fourth orgasm.

“g-gah,” you keened.

your lips parted, a silent cry leaving your raw throat, as the overstimulation washed over you in a chill. fucked out of your mind, you shook in his arms, cunt creaming and quivering around his pistoning cock.

hawks relished in the way your ovulating pussy clamped around him. his thrusts got more sloppier, desperate. his fat tip pushed through your battered cervix. the feeling of your soft walls strangling him left keigo with no other choice but to breed you.

his eyes rolled to the back of his head, his thrusts stuttered, and his moan broke into a wail.

“i-im c-cumming,” he cried.

you keened,

and, once again, keigo flooded your ripe womb with his thick, white cum, fucking through your cervix like a mad man. you doubled over, cumming once more on his spraying cock. “oh my god~,” you slurred, clenching harder on the hero breeding you. he cried out, collapsing onto your back, shuddering at how your walls wrenched him for his cum. he was forced to halt his thrusts as your cervix, too, tightened around his cock, mercilessly milking him for all he had.

still shuddering with his violent climax, hawks dropped his head to your bruising neck and inhaled the intoxicating scent of his mark, ghosting kisses across your skin. his ears wallowed in the sound of your whimpers above the muted sound of the club’s songs. it calmed him: his breathing slowed and his grip on the sink loosened, washing the mania away from his mind.

although your pied cunt still quivered around his softening cock, your body stuttered as it tried to regulate its ruined conditions. ruined for any other man, your cunt had been battered into the shape of hawks and your womb was stained with keigo takami’s name.

your eyes drifted away from the empty bowl of the sink to the mirror, and fell on the blonde bush of hair cowering in the side of your neck. the fuck had sobered you up, but you wished it hadn’t. the number 2 hero had his dick inside of you. your boss had his dick inside of you. “fuck,” you thought.

you winced.

somebody had to say something.

“h-hawks—?” you started, but you were cut off by the foreign sound of a notification that definitely didn’t come from your phone. it was his.

ping!

another ping, and keigo finally finished out his phone from his ruined joggers. his sticky fingers skidded over the screen, almost failing to input his passcode, before the white background of imessages blinded him, drawing a grumble from the hero. his clouded vision cleared, and he saw the message.

“eh...?” he squinted at the message. the hero wasn’t heat-sober enough to recall the context behind the message.

cock still resting inside you, he blinked.

hawks, finally, remembered.

my dove 🕊❤️: where r u??

#nsfw series; only just begun!

#hawks smut #bnha hawks #hawks #mha smut #keigo takami #mha ff #mha fanfic #keigo smut #mha hawks #hawks x reader #🌟: angel’s fics

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crowborn666-nsfw · 11 months

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Spring Fever

Hawks x Reader

Tags: whiny Keigo, biting/marking, reader has AFAB anatomy, riding, breeding press, one mention of birth control pills,

~~~~~~

“(Y/nnnn).” Met your ears as you answered Keigo’s phone call. Your eyebrows rose in surprise, swallowing down your drink before speaking.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“Need youuu.”

“Oh Kei.” You breathed, glancing at the clock, “Your patrol’s almost over, yeah? Can you hold out til you get home?”

“I think so…” Keigo spoke pitifully.

“Alright, you go be everyone’s hero, and when you get home I’ll be yours, how’s that sound?”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Okay. See you soon.”

The call ended, and you immediately set about preparing for Keigo to get home.

Keigo got home quickly, as the door opened five minutes earlier than it usually did.

“Lovebird?”

“In the bedroom dear.”

You could hear him shucking off his boots, and by the time he had gotten to the bedroom doorway he had pulled off his jacket and gloves.

His face was flushed upon seeing you, and he all but fell into the bed as you moved to be rid of the rest of his clothes.

As Keigo’s back met the mattress, he finally took notice of the lacy underclothing you wore, a lazy grin forming on his face as he ran his fingers over the red lace.

“You like it?” You asked, rubbing circles into his shoulders that most surely ached from the day.

“Yeah.” Keigo groaned appreciatively, tugging you down in order to reach your skin, kissing and biting at your neck. He plucked at the edge of your bra with his teeth, hands resting comfortably at the small of your back.

“C’mere.” You hummed, urging him to kiss you as your hips pressed to his, gently grinding down in small circle motions.

Keigo broke the kiss with a whine as you moved just right. “Need you… oh fu—please! Please please please.”

“Okay okay.” You hushed him gently, kissing his forehead as you moved to help him remove your underwear and bra. You were quick to tug his pants down, giving him a look of sympathy at his small whines and pleas.

Spring was the hardest time of the year for him, it amazed you that he could do hero work at all with you in the back of his mind.

You positioned yourself above him, carefully sinking down with a groan leaving your throat. Keigo on the other hand was a moaning, whining, flushed mess. His skin was red, sweat and hair sticking to his brow as his hands found your hips, squeezing to try and ground himself.

“Y-You’re on the pills right?” Keigo asked, a slight look of panic crossing his features, as if the thought just crossed his mind.

“Yes, I am, baby. Don’t worry.”

Keigo nodded, whining in earnest as he bucked his hips upward with a small “please…”.

You were quick to start moving up and down on his cock with a steady pace, hands bracing yourself on his chest.

“Like this, Kei?”

“Yes!” Keigo moaned, head thrown back, eyes shut, brows pinched. He was panting as if he had just run a marathon, his moans pitching. “(Y/n), I’m—!”

“It’s okay baby, I can go all night for you. Just let go love.”

Keigo released then, a high pitched moan leaving his throat as he dumped his load into you, hands pawing at your hips. He chanted your name, his hips stuttering as they continued to buck upwards, and you moved at a slower pace, helping ride out his orgasm.

Soon you both settled, panting in tandem with each other.

“Feel better, love? Do we need to go again?”

Keigo nodded, and then quickly flipped you onto your back. “Yeah,” his hands found the back of your knees, “just need,” he pushed your legs up, setting them on his shoulders, “a better angle.”

You moaned at the new angle, feeling his cock hit all the right spots as your back arched. Keigo wasted no time in moving once your hips began to move against him, a few grunts leaving him with his thrusts.

You blinked up at him, seeing those golden eyes holding a lustful fire behind them.

“‘M all yours, Kei dear.” You spoke, reaching up to tug him down. Keigo wasted no time in pressing deep kisses to your mouth, trailing his lips down your jaw and to your neck where he began biting down hard enough to make marks.

You sang your praises for him, listening to him whine and moan and grunt with each thrust into you.

Your back arched off the bed again as your release hit you like a freight train, hands digging into Keigo’s hair as you moaned his name. Keigo bit down into your shoulder, muffled his whiny moan as his orgasm chased him down.

His hips stuttered, whines leaving him with each one as he panted into your neck.

“Feel better?” You asked him, trailing your fingers through his hair.

“Yeah…” he sighed, pulling out of you with kisses left on your jaw. “You know what sounds good?”

“Hm?”

“A hot bath.”

#bnha #bnha smut #bnha x reader #mha #mha smut #mha x reader #hawks x reader #hawks smut #keigo smut #keigo x reader #keigo takami

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ofoceansandtombsanew · 1 year

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summary: You might be the only one in your division not utterly smitten with your partner, Makima. Call it disinterest, call it being observant that her smiles never reach her eyes. Either way, you have no interest in bridging the gap between you both. But one day, an attempt is made, and it isn’t by you.

tags: pre!canon, f!reader (afab), spoilers for anime onlys, 18+ (loss of virginity, tribbing), reader owns these cats, yes i know children of the sea’s movie was not around during this time i don’t care

a/n: makima: *is a lonely character whose secret desire is that she wants something akin to family where she and the other party are equals but feels like she can’t because of her nature*. the makima x reader tag: *dom makima smut*. me: i guess if i want a piece on makima that focuses on her loneliness i’ll have to write it myself. so i did. thank you to my friend @cafedanslanuit for beta reading this for me, she was a big help!

AO3 / SEQUEL

“Good Morning.”

“Morning, Makima.” You recognized the soft voice of your partner even before you looked away from your book.

“The weather is quite nice today, isn’t it?” It was a pleasantly warm day in Tokyo.

“I’m personally more of a sweater weather girl, myself,” you disagreed good-naturedly. “I get hot too easily so I like the cold. I’m that person who drinks iced tea in winter.”

“I see.” Makima hummed. “How odd.”

With that, a silence fell over the both of you as you awaited your orders for the day. Whether or not you’d call it uncomfortable, you left up in the air. It had been a little over a month since you began working for the Tokyo Branch of the Public Safety Devil Hunters Bureau and neither you nor your partner made an attempt to bridge the gap between you both. Every odd socially obligatory small talk you’d potentially discover something new about each other.

Like today, for instance, Makima enjoyed warm weather while you preferred cool.

Riveting stuff, you thought sarcastically on your way from the bathroom when you saw a familiar brunette lurking from around a corner. “Good morning, Nanaka.” The girl jumped in surprise, looking like a child caught sneaking her hand into a jar of cookies.

“What do you think you’re doing sneaking up on people like that, [First]!” Nanaka snapped, cheeks flushed pink.

You held back a roll of your eyes, “I’m not the one drooling over Makima from a distance like a creep.”

Flustered, Nanaka fixed her posture from looming to rigid. “I’m not drooling!” She hissed adamantly. “I’m admiring! Miss Makima is one of our best devil hunters! She’ll definitely be in charge of her own division one day soon! I have no idea how you were placed to be her partner.” You shrugged, knowing your coworker wouldn’t be pleased regardless of your answer. Twas the punishment for being partnered to the woman everyone and their mom seemed to worship without hesitance.

Nanaka sighed wistfully. “You’re lucky you get to be Miss Makima’s partner.”

“I’ll be sure to remind myself I got lucky getting paired with Makima then.” You didn’t bother holding back your sarcasm. “I’ll reflect on my actions when we go on patrol.”

“You should be more respectful” Nanaka scolded, shooting you a glare for your less-than-awed perspective. “Miss Makima’s been working here longer than you and you talk to her so casually.”

You nodded in the direction of the devil hunter in question. “Hey, Makima’s the one who told me she didn’t care about keigo. Take that up with her.”

Nanaka shook her head disparagingly at you with a ‘hmph’. “I’m going to greet Miss Makima before you both go on patrol.” Her brown eyes sparkled at the sight of the red-haired devil hunter, practically skipping in her direction. “Miss Makima, good morning! I’m so sorry, I forgot to bring you that coffee you really liked!”

The blunder didn’t seem to worry Makima at all, fortunately for Nanaka, as she smiled in that rehearsed way you expected from your partner by now. “That’s no problem at all, Nanaka. Try not to forget next time, though. I look forward to your coffee each morning.”

The brown-haired member of your division giggled, pleased. “I’ll make sure to remember tomorrow.”

You’re in awe of Makima enough for the both of us, what do I need to be so reverent for? Nanaka would likely have many choice words for you if she heard your thoughts. Yet you only felt that awe decrease as you saw your associate fawning over Makima day after day when Makima barely seemed to return even a fraction of it. You eyed Makima’s face from the corner of your eye and closed it with a small huff. Not smiling again.

Makima’s smile never reached her eyes, no matter how politely she spoke or how warmly she seemingly behaved.

It was apparent to you from the first day you met her after you arrived in Tokyo as a newly hired member of the Public Safety Devil Hunters Bureau.

“[Last], this is your partner Makima. Makima, she’s new to the country but her Japanese is decent. Make sure to teach her well.”

“Of course.” Red ringed eyes looked at you soullessly. Makima was almost like a doll, her smile painted on. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, [First]. I look forward to our partnership. Be good for me, okay?”

A condescending, callous doll.

That opinion hadn’t changed in the time you worked together. Hence why you stared at Makima like she had grown a second head when, after being told of a devil by a panicking high schooler who had ditched class, she went into a restaurant and ordered a plate of chicken katsu curry.

You blinked as you watched the redhead take a seat at a booth. “Um, aren’t we going to get that devil?”

Makima smiled at you again, the same one that never reached her eyes. “Oh yes, you can get that, [First].” She said like it was obvious, ringed eyes looking you dead in the eye. “If I go now, my food will get cold.”

You felt an eye twitch in annoyance, watching as Makima brushed a stray strand of hair back into place. Do I look like Nanaka to you? You wanted to seethe but that was probably the reaction she wanted. You held back an annoyed sigh as you took deliberate steps in Makima’s direction, sitting across from her before she could say anything else.

Your eyes peered into gold flecked with lines of red before you raised a fist. “Janken. Loser has to kill the devil.”

A silence passed over the both of you, one considerably less comfortable than usual as Makima looked at you and you looked at her, unyielding. You weren’t Nanaka or any of the others part of your division that would happily swing your sword around at Makima’s request ー no, demand ー without a second thought. “Auntie, can you make me a bowl of tororo soba? Cold please!” You asked, eyes still staring into gold.

A second past, two seconds.

“Very well,” your partner finally raised her own fist, much to your satisfaction. “one round then. The loser will also have to pay for lunch.”

“I gotta warn you then, I’m a rock-paper-scissors master.” You smirked.

A smirk that only grew wider when you pulled paper to Makima’s rock.

“Looks like you’re treating me to lunch today, partner.” You wrapped your hand around her closed fist, almost marveling at how much smaller hers were in comparison to yours. “Like I said, Janken Champion right here. I don’t lose.”

You half-expected her to demand a rematch leading you to ‘tsk’ that there was no time with such a devil on the loose.

Or perhaps give you the glare of the lifetime for besting the oh-so-mighty and worshiped Makima.

Her actual reaction was much quieter, however, as she stared at your joined hands with an unreadable expression. Damn is she that upset? You removed your hand from hers, instead opting to lay your chin on your palm. “I’ll be waiting for you to come back then, Makima. I’ll try not to get too crazy with my ordering while you’re gone.”

“Go ahead and indulge yourself.” Makima insisted as she stood, throwing her coat on once more.

You thrummed your fingers lightly on the table as your partner left the restaurant. As if I’d actually push my luck that much. A small selfish part of you considered doing exactly that, picking up a menu and ordering much more than a meger bowl of cold-style soba. But it’s just not my style to piss off a ginger. You sighed to yourself quietly before calling for the waitress once more, “Auntie, can I get some iced barley tea too?”

“Of course, dear!” The elderly waitress said with her best customer service smile. “Your Japanese is quite good!”

“No no, I’m still learning something new everyday.” You negated, waving your hands. “It’s a hard language to learn.” After a few more brief exchanges, you found yourself still waiting for Makima as you sipped slowly on your iced tea. It was never as simple as killing a devil and calling it a day. There was still the report to make and waiting for the cleanup team before you could be dismissed from the scene.

Whenever she returned, Makima’s katsu curry would definitely go cold by then.

You eyed your soba that had arrived minutes prior and the curry dish beside it. The sight along with the smells was enough to make your mouth water.

Growl.

God damn it. You pointedly looked away from your bowl to the TV showcasing a baseball game, ignoring the strong smell of the curry spices. You could have cried in relief when your partner finally returned to the restaurant. “Oh you’re finally back,” you observed with composure.

Makima glanced at your soba as she took her seat. “That must have been there for a while,” she replied, observant.

“Well it isn’t like tororo soba can get any colder.” You shrugged, breaking apart your chopsticks. “Thanks for the food.”

“Thank you for the meal.”

“... the chicken katsu is soggy” Makima muttered after one bite. You snorted almost immediately, but said nothing in reply.

You could almost hear Nanaka hisses that you needed to be more respectful towards your senior or that you should have gone ahead and killed the devil instead. Yet you couldn’t find yourself feeling any regret as you saw something more than a fake smile or mild disinterest on your partner’s face. Even mild annoyance was better than her usual expressions.

Looks like I finally saw a new side to you, huh, partner. You held back another snicker.

“Oi!”

“Alô, senhor Rocha.” Hello, Mr. Rocha. You smiled tiredly as you approached the cash register. “Tudo bem?” Are you doing well?

“Tudo bem e você?” I’m well and you? The man asked as he checked your items.

“Estou bem também." I’m good too. You weren’t one to fear being alone, nor were you the type to get lonely easily. Still, the Rochas, a family of Brazilian immigrants who ran a small grocer, were a welcome part of your life in Tokyo, especially after work. “Só estou cansada.” I’m just tired.

“Oh!” You gave Mr. Rocha a curious look as you passed him the largest bill in your wallet. “I saw you earlier!” He said in accented Japanese, grinning widely as his eyes twinkled with mischief. “Com uma mulher!” With a woman! You knew exactly where this was going with that one statement. “Essa era sua namorada?” Was that your girlfriend?

“Não, não.” No, no. You shook your head with a nonchalant wave but it was too late as you saw the quickly approaching form of Mr. Rocha’s wife. The Rochas were always interested in your love life. You weren’t sure what it was “Nós-”

“O que ela parecia?” What did she look like? Mrs. Rocha looked at her husband with excitement.

“É ruiva com cabelo comprido.” She was a redhead with long hair. Mr. Rocha relayed.

Mrs. Rocha gave your shoulder a playful slap that was meant to be congratulatory. “É linda?” Is she beautiful?

You shook your head again, a mixture of exasperated yet amused. You supposed you’d indulge them for a few seconds. “É linda demais pra mim.” Too beautiful for me. You couldn’t hold back your chuckle as the older woman rolled her eyes, calling you ‘silly’ under her breath. "Nós apenas trabalhamos juntas; era uma patrulha.” We just work together; it was a patrol.

As expected, that lessened their enthusiasm drastically. “Tenha cuidado, por favor, [First].” Please be careful, [First]. The elderly woman pleaded with you as you left with your bags.

“Yes, yes.” You could barely contain your yawn. You waved farewell at the jovial couple. “Boa noite.” Good night.

Você é linda, mais que demais. Você é linda, sim… You hummed under your breath, lightly swinging your bag. You saw a new side to your devil hunting partner today. It had been a little over a month since you’d been working together and it was the first time you could confidently think something along that line.

It was like seeing a unicorn in a forest, something you’d never encounter again in your whole lifetime. Funny how unicorns are still considered fantasy when we live in a world with devils and fiends. But a rarity was a rarity. The two of you were work associates, neither of whom had displayed an interest in getting to know each other beyond what was necessary to do your job.

You doubted such a thing would ever be presented in front of you again, you yawned.

Or so you thought when you found yourself, the next day, being taken out of a morning read by the sound of something being placed on the table in front of you. You lowered your book, finding your new company to be Makima and a cup of coffee. “Good morning, [First].”

You raised an eyebrow. “Morning, Makima.” You stared at the cup then at your partner. “Did you need something?”

“It’s iced coffee.” Makima explained as if she were telling you the sky was blue.

Exasperated, you shook your head. “I know it’s iced coffee, but I mean why are you giving it to me?” Isn’t that the coffee Nanaka gets you every day? Were the unexpressed words between you.

“I’m not one for cold drinks but then I remembered you saying you enjoyed them.” Makima nudged the drink closer to you, eyes almost owlish. Is this some weird ass test? Or is she trying to get back at me because of the janken thing? “Go ahead and take it.”

From the corner of your eye, you could feel the glare of a familiar brunette. Nanaka’ll kill me if I drink that. As if she were agreeing with your sentiments, that glare felt even hotter. “Thanks but you keep it. Coffee messes with my stomach.” With a strong hint of finality, you stood up. It would be best to find a different place to read. “Let me know when they dish out orders, I’m gonna head to the bathroom.”

Odd.

“[First], give me your pen.” You found yourself side-eying your partner in displeasure the next day as the redhead held out her hand expectantly. “I have paperwork.”

No shit, we both have paperwork. “There’s a pen right in front of you.” You look pointedly at the pen that she was already using, placed neatly atop the files she was still working on.

Makima smiled as if she were expecting that answer, “mine ran out of ink.”

“The hell am I supposed to do my paperwork with if I give you my pen then?” You asked sourly, unable to keep the annoyance from your voice.

Makima placed her hand thoughtfully on her chin for a moment before picking up the pen she claimed was empty. “Would you like to use my pen in exchange?” She smiled yet it only looked mocking.

“I don’t.” Your response was clipped as you turned your head and continued working. Almost expectantly, another member in the office practically skipped over at the opportunity. “I have a pen for you to use, Miss Makima!” He all but sang.

Things came to a boiling point a few days later on patrol when the following sentence left Makima’s lips:

“[First], tell me why you decided to join the Bureau.”

You huffed in annoyance. Does this woman not understand the concept of asking people for things? Pretending you didn’t hear her, you deliberately looked off into the distance ignoring another call of your name. “Ahh, what a peaceful day it was for this patrol wouldn’t you say?”

“Tell me why you decided to join the Tokyo Branch Bureau.” Makima repeated and you rolled your eyes, knowing she couldn’t see it. “That’s an order.”

You blinked.

Twice.

Thrice.

The kettle that your irritation and anger boiled over.

With a twitch of your eye, you turned your head over your shoulder. “You know, there’s these words called ‘please’ and ‘thank you’.” You snapped, the annoyances from the week fueling your harsh tone. “Believe it or not, just telling people to do things for you isn’t how normal relationships work if you’re trying to be someone’s friend!”

Surprise, that would best describe the look on Makima’s face right now. Genuine surprise, but at what you didn’t know. Perhaps Makima was so used to getting her way that hearing you snap was something she wasn’t expecting. “If you wanna know why I joined the Bureau I don’t care, but you’re not just going to demand I tell you like that. Ask again like a normal person and I might consider it.”

You stared at gold and gold stared back at youbefore Makima finally relented.

“[First], why did you decide to join the Tokyo Branch Bureau?”

“I hated living in my home country and I wanted the free company housing in whatever place I ended up moving to.” See, was that so hard? You leaned against the railing beside you. “But I couldn’t exactly put that on my application, so the official reason is that generic stuff everyone else puts on it. I just added how I felt my abilities would be best suited for international relations.”

“England, Ireland, Brazil, Japan. Japan got back to me first, so here I am. I’m probably gonna move into my own apartment though, company housing is fine but I want my own place.” And you were sure a few of them were starting to catch on to the two cats you snuck into the building.

“That was quite a chance roll.” Makima finally commented. “What if Brazil had responded first?”

“I guess I’d be in Brazil right now then.” You looked away from your partner with a shrug, enjoying the peach and carmine sunset. You had a friend in Fortaleza, you could have roomed with her until you got a place. “I studied a few languages when I was younger because I always wanted to do work that would allow me to travel. It didn’t really matter to me where I ended up as long as it wasn’t home, so I didn’t apply to the branch in my city.”

“And you can risk your life for that reason?” Makima asked you carefully. “Is that enough for you?”

You hummed thoughtfully. A friend back home asked the same question, although it was tinged with worry in contrast to Makima’s genuine curiosity. “I’ll probably change my mind someday, but for right now, it is.”

Your anger subsided, you sighed peacefully with a smile as you looked at the Tokyo cityline. You had yet to get tired of it. It was busy and crowded, but it was yours even at the protest of your relatives who were worried you were making a mistake of gargantuan proportions. “Yep, definitely enough.” You stretched your arms. “It’s about time for the night shifters to start heading out. Should we head back to the main office?”

There was no protest to be had. “Yes, we should.”

“Makima.”

“Yes?”

“Pull rank on me like that again and I’m gonna flick your forehead.”

You received no response to what you considered a promise, not an empty threat. Whether or not Makima believed you, you didn’t know.

The sight of the Tokyo Branch building was a welcome one. Fuck cooking, I’m ordering out tonight. After your exchange a half-hour prior with Makima, you were tempted to add dessert to that order. “See you on Monday.” You waved without sparing Makima so much as a glance as two night shifters you recognized as Tsubomi and Akira brushed past you.

“Oh you’re just coming back, Miss Makima?”

“I’m glad I caught you on the way out! How was your patrol?”

“It went smoothly this time.” Came the soft reply.

In spite of yourself, you peeked over at your partner and coworkers as you turned the corner to get your things from your desk. To your lack of surprise, Makima’s usual smile was found nowhere in her eyes. What was a surprise, however, was the dimness in them.

What kind of expression was that?

A solemn dimness danced in Makima’s eyes in spite of the warmth she was surrounded by.

Lonely.

That was the feeling Makima’s eyes had given you.

You scratched the back of your head, mildly irritated at the guilt you felt. Damn it. No, no no. I just want to go home, feed my cats, and call it a day. I don’t have work tomorrow either, I can sleep in! Still, you found yourself lingering at your desk as Makima walked in now that the evening patrollers had gone on their way. I didn’t even do anything wrong, she was being a bitch!

It was only your cursed luck that while digging for your walkman, you found two coupons for okonomiyaki in your bag.

Fuck, I forgot about this. It goes bad tomorrow.

It wasn’t the grandest gift to receive after saving a person’s life, but you happily received it from a young couple whose lives you saved from a worm devil.

“When things like this happen, it’s obviously a sign from the universe,” you could hear Himeno’s voice.

Cosmic timing was a bitch, but it was a bitch you were interested in seeing through.

“Makima, wanna go to this okonomiyaki place?” You held up crumpled coupons with an air of nonchalance that you hoped seemed natural. If Makima sensed your hesitance, you couldn’t tell. You’d almost say she seemed surprised again. Not that I blame her after earlier. Not that it still wasn’t irritating. “Some people I helped out on a job a while back gave it to me and these expire tomorrow. I’ll pay this time since it’s discounted.” You added jokingly. “Feel free to say ‘no’ though since it’s a last minute offer.”

When there was no immediate response, you placed the coupons in your bag neatly. “Well, I’ll see you next week-”

“I’ll go.” Makima’s smile was small and light as she followed you out. “You just seemed angry at me before, I’m just surprised you asked me to tag along for dinner, kouhai.” A teasing lilt accompanied a mocking smile.

“You and me both, senpai.” You replied with more sarcasm than not. And there she goes, instantly making me regret this.

“Do you mind me asking why?”

“You just seemed lonely, is all.”

You didn’t notice you were walking alone until you were half way down the hall. “Makima?” You paused with a nonplussed raise of your eyebrow, looking back at where the redhead stood. She looked at you like you grew a third head, eyes shockingly wide and mouth slightly ajar. “You alright?”

Makima composed herself as if the strike of midnight broke the spell. “Yes.”

But was she? The answer to your unasked question eluded you.

“[First], mind if I drink this?” Himeno’s voice was nearly too loud in the practically empty room you sat in.

You nodded in the direction of your iced tea without taking your eyes off your paperwork. “Yeah, go ahead.”

“Damn this tastes great, what is this?!” Himeno moaned, taking a lengthy sip. You doubted there’d be anything left for you by the time she finished.

“Some fancy elderberry assam tea. Makima got it for me.” She would give you a different kind of tea every week much to Nanaka’s chagrin. It seemed Makima had taken your preferences into consideration, she hadn’t brought you coffee again since her first odd attempt to bring you a drink. You accepted it this time, however. The first time felt more like an order. These times with tea felt more like offers. Besides, like I’m turning down a bomb cup of tea.

Himeno’s blue eyes twinkled in surprise, “Makima’s getting you tea?” The disbelief in her tone was less than subtle. “I guess you two are finally starting to get along better.”

“I wouldn’t say we didn’t get along before, we worked together just fine.” You racked your brain trying to find the best explanation. ‘We just had a mutual disinterest in one another’ seemed too harsh. “We just weren’t really trying to be friends before.” Not that you could confidently say you were friends even now. Are we?

Yet even as you thought that, there was something different to your partner that you couldn’t quite place. She seemed… relaxed somehow, if that was the right way to put it.

You didn’t want to completely delude yourself into thinking you were receiving some kind of special treatment. Regardless of her relationships with your living coworkers, you didn’t know anything about Makima’s relationships with her previous partners. Still you had the distinct feeling that the woman wasn’t the type to buy tea for someone she didn’t care for. Nanaka had been working at the Bureau for nearly two years and Makima hadn’t brought her anything.

What was with the time with coffee then? You stamped your name at the end of a document. It isn’t like I need an official friendship license from her but-

A thoughtful hum from Himeno swept you away from your thoughts. “I suppose that’s good. I hope this new buddy of mine’ll bring me drinks without me asking.” The next sip had the tell-tell sign of being filled with nothing but ice. Himeno continued to act blasé and, out of respect, you did the same. You weren’t sure how many partners the devil hunter had, you only knew they never seemed to last long.

You could only wish Himeno luck that this partner assignment would be different.

“I need a vacation. Maybe up north to Hokkaido this winter, I wanna see that snow festival in Sapporo.” Himeno sighed listlessly. “I need a change of scenery from home tonight too, but I don’t wanna go to my sister’s. She’s more worried about me than usual right now.”

“Wanna crash at my place for the night then?” You had finally moved from company housing into your own apartment. Himeno had been to the company provided apartment you had once before after you’d gone drinking with some other devil hunters. Invitations for Himeno to spend the night at your place were now only applicable as long as she was sober.

“If I did that, you wouldn’t let me get any sleep, [First].” Your friend winked.

“I’d let you get a little sleep, Hime.” You winked, pointing your pen at her.

Himeno gave you a light shove and squealed jokingly. “[First]! That isn’t talk for the office.”

“You’re the one who brought it up.” You giggled in return, signing the last of your paperwork as Himeno wrapped her arms around your shoulders. “But seriously though, if you wanna avoid your sister for a night, you can crash at my place if you-”

“[First].”

The two of you jolted out the sudden calling of your name. “Jeez, Makima warn a guy first!” You groaned, sighing as your heart rate slowed. You shot your partner a dirty look but it withered when you took notice of the dead-eyed glare pointed back at you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look this pissed.

Makima’s eyes raised from your shoulders to your eyes. “Am I interrupting something?”

Himeno slid off your shoulders with a sheepish grin. “Morning, Makima.” She chuckled, clearly perturbed. “We were just goofing off, don’t mind us.”

Makima’s eyes drifted to you and you nodded, “I was just finishing up my paperwork and Himeno was keeping me company.”

“I see.” The corners of Makima’s lips turned upwards slightly but the rings of her eyes seemed colder than ever. “I just came to tell [First] it was time for us to head out on our patrol. Maybe you can goof off together next time.”

“Er, yeah.” You placed your paperwork, finished in the nick of time, to the side. “I’ll be right there, just give me a second.”

Himeno shot you a look that clearly read: What the hell’s wrong with her?

Girl, I don’t know. You shot back. If looks could kill would be an understatement, what happened to make Makima so upset in the first place? Even when the higher ups really had sticks up their asses, Makima never seemed phased. Nor did she ever seem particularly bothered when her weird bossy streak with you hadn’t gone her way.

What was so different about today?

Himeno waved you off when you were ready to leave, “have a good patrol.” She tossed your empty cup into a garbage bin. “I’ll go to one of those cool capsule hotels and shake things up tonight.”

With a wave of your own, you bid your friend adieu. You turned, finding Makima waiting for you expectantly. You expected her to be strolling down the hallway by now. You shared a quiet look, feeling as if you were being observed. Makima broke contact first as she finally led the way out of the building.

Now this… is an awkward silence. You pressed your lips into a line as people and cars alike passed you by. You glanced at Makima curiously, contemplating the reason for her upset. “You alright?” Your curiosity eventually won you over.

“What do you mean?” Your partner asked in response.

“You just seem…” you wondered what was the best way to put it. “Upset right now. Did something happen with the higher ups? Or is it a personal thing?”

Makima spared you a glance after a few moments of silence. “I didn’t realize you and Himeno were so close.”

That was the last thing you were expecting to come from Makima’s lips.

“I guess we’re pretty friendly. I go drinking with her and some of the others in her division sometimes.” Less than half the people from that first drinking party were still around now. “It’s a fun time if you ever go but just be careful about letting Himeno have one too many.” You always carefully stopped after two, Himeno was a bottomless pit who drank past her limits. Needless to say, you became one of the many devil hunters Himeno had drunkenly kissed.

Regardless, nothing had spoiled between you both.

You pursed your lips for a moment. “I’m not too much of a drinker. I know that work-drink culture is a big thing here in Japan, but I try not to do it too much especially if Himeno’s already been throwing it back.”

“Does she come to your home often?”

“Not particularly?” You answered truthfully. “She’s banned from coming over while drunk.” When you were still living in the company apartments, you had naively brought her over to sleep off her drinking. That night ended with her throwing up in your bathtub and falling asleep on the floor of your hallway. Never again. You shuddered. “She stops by every once and again but it’s usually me and my cats. You have any?”

“I have a few dogs.”

You gave Makima a look of appraisal. “You seem like a dog person, it makes sense.”

Compared to before, Makima’s mood seemed to shift into something more pleasant. “You seem like you would own cats.”

“Tell me about your dogs?” That simple question was what led to your discovery that Makima owned seven dogs, each named after a dessert she was fond of. You never would have pegged her for such an animal lover, nor were you sure how she always managed to keep her suits impeccably clean. Even after rolling over your clothes, you’d always find stray hairs that you missed hours after leaving your house.

When the conversation spilled into talking about your cats, you enthusiastically spared no details. Whether it was a dog, cat, fish or rabbit, you were sure any pet parent would agree coming home to them was one of the best feelings in the world. Your two were troublemakers to some extent. Bagheera would occasionally be a brat and knock over your pen if you didn’t pet him, you gave up trying to keep Tora from going onto the top of your fridge after a month of her developing the habit. You wouldn’t trade them for the world though. “You should come over and meet them some time.” You laughed at a memory of your cats sticking their paws under the door after you had the audacity to leave them behind. “If you don’t hate cats, I think you’d like them.”

Without missing a beat, Makima asked, “when can I come over?”

“You got any plans our next day off?” When her answer came back negative, you nodded in self-assurance. “Then if you got the time, swing on over to my place. We can eat or something, I haven’t had anyone over to this new place yet.”

Something about that statement made Makima’s eyes seem brighter. “I look forward to being the first.”

“I love my cats but I gotta give the disclaimer,” you remembered before you got too ahead of yourselves. “Tora can be pretty skittish when it comes to new people, so she might run off when she sees you. Her brother loves people though, so you have nothing to worry about with him.”

Makima was unperturbed by your revelation. “I’m quite good with animals.”

That was the same thing Himeno said before Tora promptly hid under your bed the rest of her first stay. But you didn’t see a reason to burst Makima’s bubble when she actually seemed excited to come over. “Alright, I’ll provide the dinner. You provide the movie.”

“What movies do you like?”

“Surprise me.” You wondered what sort of movies a person like Makima would enjoy. “Is there anything you’d like for dinner?

“Surprise me.”

And surprised she would be, you swore, when you heard the knock on your door.

“Yo, welcome to my humble abode.” You greeted playfully as you swung open the door. Makima was pretty, that was an objective fact. Knowing that still didn’t prepare you for how taken aback you’d be by the pale pink wrap dress she was wearing. For once her hair was out of its usual braid, cascading down her shoulders in a sea of red. Makima was the exact definition of lovely.

“How do I look?” Makima’s voice pulled you out of your stupor.

“You look great, I feel so underdressed.” You weren’t dressed in your lounge clothes by any means, but you definitely weren’t dressed to impress anybody. Makima doesn’t seem like the type to even own sweatpants, why am I surprised she’d wear something pretty even to just hang out with a friend? You cursed your lack of awareness, knowing it was too late to suddenly change outfits.

“I like what you’re wearing, it’s best to wear something comfortable if you’re going to be cooking.” Makima sniffed the air lightly, “did you make carbonara? Carbonara and…”she paused for a moment. “steamed vegetables?”

“Damn how can you tell?” You clapped, impressed at her accurate guesses. “I also got everything to make affogato al caffe.”

Makima seemed quite pleased with herself, “I have a uniquely good sense of smell.” She pointed a slender finger at her nose. “I look forward to the dessert, I’ve only had affogato once.” She prepared to enter your house with the greetings finished, but you held a hand up before she could take a step forward.

“Ah ah ah.” you grinned mischievously. “What’s the movie?”

The last thing you were expecting her to hold was a Pulp Fiction DVD case. “I thought it would be fun watching this one, it’s a favorite of mine.” Her expressions morphed into one of questioning. “Are you a fan of crime movies? The storytelling is non-linear too.”

“No way, I love Samuel L. Jackson, we have to watch it.” You plucked the DVD from her small hands protectively. It was a classic Samuel L. movie you had yet to watch, it was time to rip the bandaid off. You stepped to the side with a noble bow. “You pass the movie check.”

It didn’t take long for your cats to take note of your guest. Bagheera made his way as you expected, eyes round with interest. Tora, unsurprisingly, kept her distance. “Tora,” Makima kneeled, hand waiting for the younger of your two cats expectantly. Her other hand brushed Bagheera’s chin lightly. “Come here.”

“She doesn’t really...” You left your sentence unfinished as you watched in awe as Tora bound forward, rubbing her head against Makima’s hand lovingly.

“What is it?” Makima asked as if she hadn’t easily gained the affection of your most fearful cat.

“I’m just surprised,” you relayed, still finding it unreal as your calico-tabby pressed her head into Makima’s hand once more. “Tora usually isn’t the best around people, usually just runs off immediately when she realizes someone else is in the house. Her brother’s the friendly one, which… you already knew.” And yet, this time your black tom wasn’t alone in his purrs and bunts as he indulged in your partner’s attention.

Amusement glinted in Makima’s eyes. “I did mention I have a way with animals, didn’t I?”

“Well excuse me for being a naysayer.” You roll your eyes with a snort. “Tora, you turncoat. You’re both being put up in my room while we eat.”

Makima shook her head, “it’ll be fine.”

“Trust me, Tora will not let you eat in peace.”

“You’ll let us eat in peace, won’t you, girl.” Makima booped Tora’s nose lightly.

And somehow, Tora did. Dinner was pleasant, the affogato was delicious and both your cats behaved like angels as you watched Pulp Fiction on your couch. Bagheera I can understand but Tora? Is this even my cat right now? You were convinced this had to be some sort of witchcraft, but your thoughts subsided as you fell deeper into the movie.

“Look, if you wanna play blind man go walk with the shepherd,” Jules said in annoyance as you glanced at the woman beside you with a feeling of satisfaction. Bagheera laid on her lap, purring softly while Tora snoozed close by. Then your phone rang, killing the pleasant atmosphere.

“Sorry, I just need to make sure this isn’t important.” You excused yourself while Makima paused the film, walking towards the kitchen. “Hello?”

“[Firrrst].” You released an immediate sigh of exasperation when you recognized the voice, drunkenly slurred and all. “I don’t wanna have to call my sister to pick me up.”

“Oh god, Himeno, how much did you drink?!”

Himeno sounded too noble for her own good. “A lady never gets drunk, she sips.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “And I’m over how they killed off Morris Chestnut in Anaconda 2.” You replied sarcastically, fighting back a grin at the sound of your friend’s giggles. “Just call your sister, you dumbass. Please tell me you’re not by yourself.”

“I’m at the restaurant still.” Himeno slurred and you sighed in relief. “Can’t I come over?”

“I have,” at the burning sense of staring on your back, you looked over at your guest to see her looking back at you. Just another second. “company over. Besides, you threw up in my bathtub at my old place last time. Come over when you’re sober.”

“You gonna keep me up all night then if I do?” Himeno hiccupped.

“Proposition me when you’re not drunk out your mind, I’ll do all the stuff you heart desires with breakfast included.”

“Can you just make me breakfast now?” Himeno whined and you hoped that she

“Himeno, if you don’t get off the phone with me and call your sister to pick you up. Look, what restaurant are you staying at? I’ll send over a cab to get you-”

“No, no, I’ll call her. I just needed a pep talk.”

“Good.” You released a breath of relief. The last thing the streets of Tokyo needed was a drunk devil hunter getting picked off because a devil spotted an opportunity. “Try not to drink so much next time? I’m gonna call to make sure you actually got home with your sister just fine.”

She’s like a maelstrom, you hung up the phone. “Sorry about that.” You beamed sheepishly as you made your way back to the couch. “Friends, am I right?”

“It’s fine.” You weren’t convinced with the way Makima’s small smile adopted its usual forcedness.

“... you sure you’re alright?” You asked after neither of you pressed play on the remote.

“Don’t…” Makima cut off her sentence as quickly as it began. She pet Bagheera’s head as if her life depended on it and it crossed your mind that even someone like Makima could feel nervous. “I don’t like it when you make those sorts of jokes.” She said at last as if it were a struggle to find the right phrasing. “The ones you make with Himeno.”

“Oh- I’m so sorry.” You apologize immediately the moment you recognized the jokes that were being referenced. “I didn’t realize I was making you uncomfortable. I’ll tell Himeno too, alright?”

At the pause, you felt that wasn’t a satisfactory response. “Makima?” You waited a moment. “I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me everything that’s wrong.” You sat closer than you previously sat to the redhead. Frustrated, that was the best way to describe the look on her face with her red eyebrows furrowed lightly.

“I don’t want you to make those jokes in general with anybody.”

Pretty dress, hair down.

You felt a sense of dread wash over you in your realization. “Is this a date?” When Makima’s eyes met yours, you already knew her answer. You wished you could throw yourself off a cliff.

“When I was invited over for dinner, I assumed that’s what this would be.” Dinner, a movie and of course you made dessert.

A date with Makima, that’s what this was. If someone told you when you first met, you’d be on one with her, you’d have thought they were drunk. Now that you were in this situation, you found yourself less bothered with it than what the past you would have expected. Makima was a beautiful woman, you weren’t blind to how she garnered attention from so many people. It had always simply been her attitude for you.

But this Makima, the one who enjoyed the company of your cats and enjoyed light banterー she was a Makima you’d be interested in dating.

No, what had you bothered now was the misunderstanding entirely. Makima was on Venus and you were on a different planet entirely.

“Please don’t consider this a real date, this shouldn’t count.” You pinched your nose in embarrassment. “Look, I’m a lot better at dates when I know I’m supposed to be on one. I need a date do-over.” Your friend wouldn’t call drunk, nor would you make jokes about sleeping with them. “Give me a chance to actually impress you. I don’t do boring dinner first dates, I make sure you have a good time. We could do… billiards!”

You were relieved that Makima seemed intrigued. “What do I get when I win?”

“Ohohoho, such confidence.” You snorted, light and amused. “What makes you think you’ll win?”

A lightness rolled off Makima in waves as she partook in your banter, “I’m a billiards champion.” The smile she gave reached her eyes.

The redhead looked more beautiful to you in that moment than she ever did in your entire time knowing her.

“Well in the very, very unlikely chance you win a round against me in a round of billiards…” You folded your arms, pretending to think deeply. “You get another date with me. And when I win, because I never lose,” you smirked loosely. “I’ll take you on another date. Equivalent exchange, win-win situation.”

As it turned out, Makima was a much better billiards player than you bargained for. Still, you got a date out of it.

One date.

Two dates.

Many dates you lost count of over the months. You were each other’s best kept secret, you didn’t want to incur the wrath that would come from Makima’s fans at the office if they knew you were dating her. You were sure the Rochas would be squealing with glee whenever they learned that pretty redhead did become your girlfriend. Oh they definitely won’t let me live that down. You chuckled to yourself as you placed a dish on the drying rack. “Custard, get that out your mouth.” You eyed one of the large dogs Makima called her own, chewing something you couldn’t see.

You groaned as the hound scurried away, mysterious piece of food in tow.

“Makima!” You called out for your girlfriend who was in her room watching Children of the Sea. “Can you get your dog?” When you got no response, you sighed. Custard, however, looked pleased as whatever she was eating had been happily consumed. Great. With a shake of your head, you turned off the kitchen light and headed for your girlfriend’s room.

It was Custard’s victory this time, you ceded as you peered into your girlfriend’s room. The film was at its climax with the odd yet pulling festival of rebirth.

You didn’t understand it when you first saw the film. It had you in the first half, with its promise of an ocean-themed coming-of-age movie from the protagonists. Then it devolved into visual acid with themes you couldn’t understand. Yet you watched it again and again, trying to figure out the meaning of the movie's metaphors. Somehow you fell in love with it, you thought, as you watched a frantic Ruka swimming with no avail to Umi who dissolved into millions of galaxies feasted upon the sea life.

You couldn’t say you completely understood it beyond a vague feeling, but you loved it all the same. You found it funny how it mirrored the evolution of your relationship. You smiled to yourself, deciding to make your presence known and tell your girlfriend as much. “Need a tissue, Maki?” You teased gently.

She always cried watching this movie; you almost had a heart attack the first time. Makima didn’t look like the type to cry while watching film. She was surprisingly picky when it came to them, but when she found one she truly enjoyed, her reaction would be apparent. “Maybe Ruka’ll meet the boys in another life.” You wiped the corner of her eye, though the tears were quickly replaced with more.

“You shouldn’t tease your girlfriend when she’s crying,” you thought she’d sniffle.

“Nanaka would be upset to hear you talk to me like this,” you figured Makima would tease in return, dabbing away at her eyes with tissue.

When she did neither of those things, dimly staring into your eyes, you knit your eyebrows in concern. “Hey, what’s wrong?” You entreated anxiously.

“Make love to me. That’s an order.” Was the last thing you thought would come from your girlfriend’s lips.

“I- what? No.” The flick you gave to Makima’s forehead was soft. “I’m not gonna have sex with you when you’re crying, you dummy.” Your words were soft despite your gruff choice in words. Makima was a virgin, much to your surprise when she told you. Popular as she was, you figured that she would have been with someone. “I’m waiting for the right person. I didn’t want something meaningless for the first time, I want it to be intimate.” She explained and you left it at that, saying that you’d take things at her pace. “We’re not doing anything when you’re upset.” You looked at your hands aimlessly before turning off the TV and closing the door.

You counted to three, inhaling and exhaling briefly.

When you came back to her bed, you brushed away your girlfriend’s tears again before pulling her into your chest and lying on your side. You licked your lips nervously. “Listen I… I’m not the best when it comes to talking about emotions. I suck ass at comforting people. But I’m here for you, Makima. Whatever it is, I can accept it. You don’t have to tell me now but whenever you’re ready, you can throw it at me. I’ll be here.”

You didn’t ask what was wrong again.

Not while Makima’s small hands clutched the front of your shirt tightly.

Not as you rubbed Makima’s back in soft caresses, hoping it would calm her down.

“I like dating you,” Makima murmured into your shirt when she was able. “I want things to stay like this. I want things to be equal.” Where on earth was this coming from?

“I like dating you too,” you reassured, not wanting to stoke the flames of her insecurities. “I like what we have going on. Is there a reason you feel like things are unequal?” You tried searching for moments in your relationship as lovers that might have made her feel like the dedication and commitment wasn’t even. You stroked the back of her head, fingers lingering on the silky feeling of her hair. “If I made you feel like I wasn’t in this with you, I’m sorry. I just need to know where I messed up and how I can be better.”

“What if I was a devil?” The room felt too quiet with that question and you paused your ministrations.

“What kind of devil are we talking about?” You murmured as Makima gripped the front of your shirt tighter and you tightened your hold in return. “A Spider Devil? Cat Devil? A Who-Cares-What Devil?”

“Control Devil.”

You inhaled deeply before releasing your breath. The adoration from your coworkers, Tora’s abnormal behavior. Nothing came as a surprise in the moment. “I could live with that.”

“I’d always have devil tendencies.”

You whispered, “I can deal with that.”

“I might try ordering you.” Makima didn’t fight back as you peeled the fingers of her hand from your shirt.

“You can try that. I’ve denied plenty of your orders before, I’ll do it again.” You kissed her palm lightly before kissing her fingers. “I think I told you before I’d flick your forehead if you tried pulling some nonsense on me. I can’t say things would always be easy.” No, you definitely weren’t naive enough to believe that. Love was a choice. Parents chose to love their children even when they were being irredeemable brats. Couples chose to stay together during the hard times. This was simply another version of that. A big version.

This was a secret that could never be spilled. You were sure if your parents knew what would come of you becoming a devil hunter, they would have hid your passport. You weren’t even sure what introducing Makima to your family would look like even before her revelation.

And yet, and yet.

“But I wouldn’t leave you for being a devil.” You vowed simply. “You’re Makima either way and that’s who I want to be with for the foreseeable future. Some hiccups aside, I think what we have is pretty damn equal. You can’t dominate the indomitable.”

The two of you laid down in silence before Makima spoke quietly, “I can’t make equal relationships with people as the Control Devil.”

“You made one with me.” The calm Makima unraveled with your words and her body racked against yours. You simply held her throughout it, wondering about the life Makima had before this.

Who else knew about Makima’s true identity?

Why was a devil being employed to kill other devils?

How long had Makima been alone in this situation to become the detached individual you first became acquainted with?

Despite the many thoughts swimming in your head, you still felt resolutely the same. Had you been given the chance to go back in time, you’d have pursued the same path once more. You woke up the next morning feeling the same way as the morning sunlight disturbed your slumber.

“You asleep?” You ran your fingers through her hair softly.

“I’m awake.” Eyes still closed, Makima hugged you tighter. Even without seeing her face, you could tell she was smiling. One with warmth that reached her voice. “I’m just listening.”

You couldn’t hold back a smile yourself. “I didn’t take you for the sappy type.”

Makima raised her head. “I think you were the sappy one last night.” Her eyes were a bit pink from her crying, but she looked otherwise pleased.

She was stunning.

You placed a hand on her cheek, brushing away a stray hair with your thumb. “You’re beautiful when you smile. When you actually smile. I could always tell you were faking before.” Makima’s eyes closed but her smile remained as she leaned into your palm, one of her own hands cupping the one holding her. “Can I kiss you?”

“Will you make a contract with me?” Makima opened her eyes with a question. With her true identity exposed, you could see why her eyes were ringed. There was something pulling about them, like a hypno wheel meant to hypnotize unsuspecting volunteers of a hypnotist. Fitting for the Control Devil. You wondered what it was that made you so resistant to them when the majority of your coworkers couldn’t stop fawning over Makima the moment they laid eyes on her.

“What’s the contract you have in mind?

“I won’t use my power on you, in exchange, we have to stay together forever. We’ll eat a lot together, sleep together, and live a happy life together.”

A lifelong contractー the contract of a lifetime. There would be no outs after you agreed to it, if you agreed to it.

There was no doubt in your mind however, as Makima held her heart on a silver platter. You, the member of your family who became a devil hunter just to have an excuse to leave your home country.

“That sounds like a good contract to me.” You pressed your lips firmly against hers. Makima wrapped her arms around your shoulders with equal vigor. Her lips spread easily at the gentle slide of your tongue on her bottom lip and warmth pooled in your stomach as your kissing continued.

Wordlessly, you looked down at her and she wordlessly gave you her answer. The Control Devil relinquishing control; there had to be nothing scarier to her. But she still trusted you; that made your heart swell with love and adoration.

You peppered her breasts with wet kisses as you unbuttoned her shirt, a hand trailing down to lift her skirt and slip off her undergarments. Makima exhaled deeply as your fingers faintly touched her folds. You kept up this teasing until Makima pressed her legs together to prevent your hand from moving. She’s so wet.

“It’s not fair that you’re still in all your clothes.” She breathed, breath ghosting your lips. You chuckled quietly, kissing her as an apology before slipping off your clothes.

You moaned in unison as your clits rubbed together. It was the morning and you were staving off the last of your sleep, tribbing felt like it would be the best move to go with. All you wanted that morning was to feel Makima against you and even then as you felt her sex against yours, it wasn’t close enough.

Damn, I wish I had the strap. The day you could finally use it on her couldn’t come soon enough you thought as you ground your core against hers. Makima would be beautiful taking it, just as she was now, head thrown back in pleasure. You wanted to tease her, bringing the Control Devil to the precipice of pleasure before denying her release. You wanted to spoil her and give everything she wanted until society collapsed in on itself.

Makima’s hips bucked underneath you, moaning and mewling softly. You wanted to see her when she came. You circled her clit as you thrust yourselves against one another, chasing Makima’s release.

With a shudder, Makima came with your name on her lips and you tumbled over the edge with her after a few more thrusts.

Euphoria. That was what Makima was in as you kissed her cheeks and forehead, whispering sweet things in her ear. Pure, unadulterated euphoria. “You were so good for me.” You praised her. “I love you.”

Love.

Love she wouldn’t need her powers for.

Love based on equity.

Not the cheap imitations she received from Nanaka, Tsubomi and Akira. Nor the cold callous from the government officials that raised her. This was agapé. The love she saw in movies and novels.

You would stay together forever. You would eat a lot together, sleep together and live a long life together. That was the contract you agreed to.

“I love you, [First].” Makima held you closely as she came down from her high.

She loved you and you loved her.

Nothing could come between you both.

You smiled lazily as Makima regained her composure. “The next time we get time off, we should go on a vacation together.”

“Yes,” Makima smiled in return. “we should. A long vacation, just the two of us.”

It didn’t matter where, you just needed to be together. Nothing could be allowed to come between this bond. Not work, nor death. She’d follow you from this life to the next.

This was your contract.

Makima crossed her arms behind her back as she stared down the higher ups of the Tokyo Branch Bureau made with plastic and false pleasantries.

“You’ll let me leave the Public Safety Bureau with a large severance pay. That’s an order.”

#look she's writing #chainsaw man x reader #csm x reader #makima x reader #kinktober #ish #makima smut #kinktober 2022

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wri0thesley · 1 year

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home - hawks x reader (6.7k)

you miss him when he's not here.

cw: not sfw. reader is afab but no gendered language is used. chubby reader, insecurities mentioned. established relationship. possessive hawks. blood, injury (mild). cunnilingus, scratching, biting, multiple orgasms.

this was a commissioned work.

There are drawbacks to being a Pro Hero’s partner.

Oh, there are some positives, too - the nice things that you get sent, sometimes, in the hopes that you’ll post them on social media and the business in question will get some extra footfall from being papped on the significant other of the more popular Pro Heroes (putting aside the occasional frustration of paparazzi always tailing you, the free clothes and free tech and free gear and free meals are very nice). The fact that Keigo has a sizable fortune that he mainly uses to make sure that you and he have the best life he can provide. The swell of pride that rises in your chest when you think about him, and all of the lives he has saved, all of the people who are grateful for him.

The sunshine in Keigo’s face, too, when a small child tells him how much they look up to him - how they want to be just like him. The money that is funneled back by Keigo into charitable institutions for children. The fact that you’re doing a small part of good in the world despite your reasonably useless quirk (making flowers bloom at a touch is only useful when the flowers are not yet in season, after all - it’s a quirk that you can use maybe three months out of the year, and you’ve noticed flowers don’t seem to last any longer just because you’ve grazed them with your fingertips) by making Keigo happy, the way he deserves to be.

But there are plenty of negatives.

Those same paparazzi who sell photographs of you and Keigo to gossip magazines and comment on your appearance, your hair if it’s messy, your figure that you’re already not all that confident in. The online gossip-mongers who spend their time bemoaning how much of a better fit they’d be for a man like Keigo, if he’d just stop ‘pitying’ you enough to date you.

The nights you spend stroking Keigo’s hair as he buries his head in your neck and all of the ugliest parts of his job fall out of his mouth; the fear of being a pawn for the HPSC for the rest of his life, the things he’s asked to do that remain secret except in whispered gasps into your ear, his hands clinging to you so tightly you think about talons puncturing your skin. The long, long nights when he’s out doing hero work and you fear that he may never come back to you. The way time stretches interminably on when he says he’ll be gone for a little while and you don’t know if it will be days or weeks or months.

You wouldn’t trade anything for him. Keigo makes you feel seen and beautiful and loved and cherished in a way no other person could ever compare to. You get butterflies when he smiles at you. You cannot imagine a life in which you did not find each other, somehow.

But tonight, your bed in Keigo’s penthouse (big glass windows, so he can feel like he’s flying - a huge bed, with room for his wings) is empty and cold. You wear a too-big ‘Hawks’s Baby Bird’ nightshirt that falls down to your knees, a gag gift from one of your friends who is a member of your boyfriend’s fan club. The little cartoon depiction of him is not enough to make you feel as though he is there with you.

Tonight feels like one of those nights that might last forever.

You roll over in the bed uncomfortably, legs tangling in cool sheets that you wish were warmed by your partner. The space seems to stretch on for an eternity without Keigo’s wings there for you to good-naturedly grouse about as he laughs and pulls you in even closer.

You think not hearing anything might be the worst.

You know what he does is important, you know that he doesn’t always tell you where he’s going because he’s worried about you - you know that being shrouded in secrecy is better for both of you. But not knowing where he is or who he’s with or what he’s doing makes all kinds of worrying scenarios play out in your head as you wonder if you’ll ever see him again, or if the last time you kissed him on the cheek and told him to be careful (and he looked at you with all of the love in the world lighting his gold eyes, his gaze saying far more than his easy laugh and his promise he would come back) would be the last time.

Ugh. You flop onto your back and stare up at the ceiling.

Maybe you should try making yourself a hot drink; distract yourself from the thoughts swirling around your mind and the loneliness that’s eating at your edges. That sounds nice. You swing your legs over the side of the comically oversized mattress, the soft hem of your nightshirt riding high on your thighs - and then you hear a familiar sound, and your heart feels like it swells to double its size in your chest.

You quickly walk from the bedroom into the lounge, following the sound of beating wings and displaced air and something clinking against glass. There, on the balcony outside, stands Keigo - still in his hero costume, red wings in the process of being tucked behind him, keys tinkling in his hand.

Through the window, he catches sight of you - and his smile is so wide it could split his face in two, eyes crinkling at the edges. He fumbles even quicker with the keys, eager to get inside and back to you - and you walk across the room, your feet warm on the cold tiled floor, to meet him.

Up close, you can see that the night has not been kind to him.

Despite the smile that lights up his eyes and transforms his face, there are grazes all over his face; a rip in his hero costume at the sleeve, where he’s bleeding a little. His wings seem fine, but high on the left wing the feathers are bent out of shape and uneven as if he narrowly avoided trapping it somewhere. Your stomach drops somewhere in the region of your feet - and then, Keigo is through the window and it’s clinking closed behind him and you are embraced by all of him, all red feathers and fur jacket and arms wrapping so tightly around you that you can barely breathe.

“Keigo,” your voice comes out in a choked squeak. “Keigo, you’re hurt--!”

“I’m so glad to see you,” he mumbles into the crook of your neck, his normally light tone heavy with emotion. “I missed you so so much. I . . . I thought I might not see you ever again--”

His gloved hands cling to your generous hips, squishing into the soft flesh there, dragging you against him. He noses against your neck, breathing in your scent, as if he’s trying to reassure himself that you’re real and true and there.

“Let me look at your injuries--” You try to say, but Keigo instead pulls you into a searing kiss that makes your knees feel weak. Despite his relatively small stature - compared to most other Pros, anyway - he trains long and hard, and he pulls you into him as if you weigh nothing at all, the softness of your curves and pudge not presenting the smallest of problems. His mouth is hot and beseeching against yours; this is a kiss that says ‘I am alive, and I thought I wouldn’t be’. Fear is still rolling hot through your stomach, but it’s hard not to melt into him when he knows every spot of your mouth and every nerve of your lips as well as he knows his own. His teeth nip needily at your lower lip and you open your mouth for him - let his tongue mark you out as his, sliding across that spot behind your front teeth that makes you full-body shiver in his arms.

It doesn’t seem to matter to him that the two of you are in full view of the windows (not that any paparazzi would be fool enough to try and photograph from here, after the last time) - all that matters is that the two of you are entwined, that Keigo is there and you are there. His hands slide down your hips to knead at the soft globes of your ass, a motion that’s meant to be teasing but instead simply feels desperate.

You break apart from him with a gasp, your heart beating frantically against your ribcage.

“Keigo,” you say, hoping you sound more sure of yourself than you feel. “I need to clean your w-wounds.”

He looks at you all half-lidded and wanting, his mouth swollen from the kiss - actually, you don’t think his gaze has strayed from you once since he first laid eyes on you.

“I needed to kiss you,” he says to you, and he cracks a small smile that doesn’t quite mask the wildness in his eyes. “I needed to remember exactly what you were like. Remind myself you were mine, birdie.”

“The kiss could have waited,” you say, exhaling in a way that’s part laugh and part exhaustion. “You’re hurt.”

One gloved hand raises to your face; his thumb strokes over your cheek. The smile on his face is so sad and so wanting that it makes you ache.

“I could never wait to kiss you,” he says. “Not a second longer than I have to.”

You tug gently on his sleeve; there’s dirt all over the tan fabric. You wonder what happened to him on this mission, but you don’t ask - Keigo never wants you to have to worry about things. He keeps you as safe as he can - makes sure you can work from home, insists that if he can’t go shopping with you groceries are delivered . . . on another person, it might be suffocating. But on Keigo . . .

He hasn’t told you much about his life pre-Wing Hero: Hawks. Still, he has told you more than almost anybody else in the whole world knows, and you understand why he clings to the vestiges of a home he’s managed to build around himself. It’s hard not to be flattered that he considers you home - and you, in return, feel exactly the same way about him.

“Come on,” you say to him, a little more forcefully this time, and you give him a gentle smile so he doesn’t feel like he’s worrying you too much. “Let me clean these scratches and get your uniform off, and I promise you can kiss me as much as you like for as long as you like.”

He lets out a soft laugh but lets himself be tugged across the room anyway.

“My uniform off?” He asks, lightly teasing, the edge of desperation slowly ebbing away now that he is with you and knows you are safe. “Why, birdie, you’ve only gotta ask! Little forward, but I’m not gonna complain--”

You roll your eyes at him, but laugh all the same, as the two of you enter the kitchen and you bully him lovingly into taking a seat on one of the stools by the long breakfast bar. You reach up onto your toes to reach the first-aid kit kept in one of the high kitchen cupboards, feeling the hem of your shirt rise up to reveal the thin red satin underwear you wore to bed--

“Are those Hawks brand, too?” Keigo asks. You can’t see him, but you can just imagine the shit-eating grin that’s painted itself over his face. “Look, I know you want me to stay still whilst you tend lovingly to me, but you’re making this really difficult--”

“Shh,” you tell him, turning around with the little metal tin tucked beneath your arm. “You’re just trying to get out of the antiseptic swabbing, aren’t you?”

It takes you by surprise how quickly he’s shed his garments. You suppose that speed is his greatest asset, but still - you’d heard only a little rustling, and yet Keigo is suddenly sat behind you totally shirtless with his uniform discarded on the stool beside him. You can see almost all of him; the lean muscles of his pectorals, dotted with old scars - the corded forearms, the surprisingly strong hands . . .

You’re grateful to see that the wounds and scratches are only surface-level. They’ll need cleaning and bandaging up a little, but that’s all - he’s not at risk of any infections, doesn’t need to go see any healers or hospital workers. You’re glad - you don’t want him to be out of your sight for any longer than he has to be now that you finally have him back for a while.

You cough as you rifle through the medical kit for anti-bacterial wipes, feeling your face heat up at his proximity and his nakedness. Keigo laughs softly, angling his body closer to you.

“You’re cute when you’re nervous,” he says to you, his voice low and soft. “C’mon. See something you like?”

“Could you stop flirting for one second?” You ask him, as you wipe over one of the nasty grazes on his arm - you don’t think you could look into those golden eyes right now without falling into them like molten pools. “I need to get this cleaned up.”

“You’d be flirting if the prettiest thing in the whole world was touching your naked body,” Keigo says to you, reasonably; and he laughs again when you fumble with the bandage you’re trying to affix to the spot in question. “C’mon. You’re even wearing my merch! How’m I supposed to just sit here and let you look after me when I’m thinking about pinning you to the breakfast bar and having my wicked way with you, huh?”

“Have your wicked way with me when I’m done,” you tell him, and now you have no choice but to turn your hand to the grazes on his cheek - and looking at Keigo’s pretty face takes your breath away in the same way it always does. His eyes are liquid gold, burning you as you gently wipe the blood from his sharp cheekbones. At the touch of your fingers on his face, he takes a sharp intake of breath - and one strong hand lands on the outside of your thigh, thumb pressing softly into the skin there. Your own breath stutters in your chest.

There’s a bloom of heat low in your core, to be looked at like that. Possession and adoration and hunger all mixed up in his gaze, your own body screaming at you that Keigo wants you and you want him and everything else should be thrown to the wayside in pursuit of the pleasure the two of you are clearly longing for.

He breathes out after a moment that feels like it lasts a week, and his voice has dropped a semitone into something rich and low and starving hungry.

“You’re nearly done now, right?” He asks, swallowing, the bob in his throat visible. “I’m not sure how much longer I can stop myself.”

You do not break eye contact as you drop the gauze, as you close the lid of the first-aid kit.

“I’d think a Pro Hero would have more control,” you say to him breathily. “Stop yourself from doing what, exactly?”

He smiles up at you with a wickedness that makes you weak at the knees, and you feel all of your concern about his grazes and bruises and the feathers that have been bent and ruffled in his wings melt away in favour of the persistent pounding in your core.

He moves lightning-fast; utterly deserving of all of his accolades, and before you know it you’re pressed against the breakfast bar, your ass pressed flush against the rim of the surface, and Keigo has dropped down onto his knees.

“Stop myself from eating you all up, birdie,” he says, with a grin bright and hungry, as he presses his nose softly against the plumpness of your thighs. “You’re looking delicious, and I’m starving after being away for so long. Won’t you let a guy have a taste?”

You gasp as he moves his face; as his nose nudges at your mound through the Hawks branded underwear. He breathes in deeply, savouring the scent of you on the air.

“I can tell you want it too,” he teases you. “I can smell you from here. That’s how I know how delicious you’re going to be.”

“Keigo,” you breathe out lightly, but there is no complaint in your tone. Your boyfriend takes this the way it is; your consent for him to do whatever he wants to you, and his smile is knife-sharp in the darkness as his fingers hook into the elastic of the underwear and slowly begin to edge them down your legs.

“Spread for me, angel,” Keigo murmurs, dropping a kiss just above your knee, peppering the skin he can currently get to with more feather soft touches of his lips. “Show me how much you want it. Let me see you; I’ve missed you. Feels like a century when I don’t see you for a day.”

You fall over yourself to please him. You’ve missed him just as much; too deeply for you to care if you seem desperate, when you spread your legs further and let him see the wet mess between your legs. Keigo’s eyes go half-lidded and wanting as he trails the pad of one of his fingers up your thigh to dip between the lips of your sex and into your slick.

“Look at you, pretty birdie,” he says, low and awestruck. “This is all for me? Aren’t I the lucky one? Aren’t you just the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen?”

Your face heats up at the compliments; Keigo is never shy about giving them, of course, but when the position is so intimate and he looks so fascinated it’s hard not to feel woozy with the want that drips off every syllable. Keigo moves his face closer; kisses at the plump spill of your very inner thighs, where they’re damp with your own arousal. Teeth bite into the flesh gently, nipping at you until you gasp.

“Y-you were being serious about eating me up, then?” You ask, a huff of laughter on your lips, as Keigo shifts his attentions to the other thigh, sucking love bites into the soft flesh.

“Just making sure you know you’re mine,” he says, breathless. “Marking you up so you know who you belong to. After I’ve eaten you up, I’ll get on to eatin’ you out--”

He kisses over your sex this time; his breath fanning hot against your most sensitive parts. Your knees almost buckle, and you have to cling to the rim of the breakfast bar to stop yourself from just falling onto him completely. You feel a couple of well-placed breaths away from collapsing onto the floor.

“Is that a . . . a promise?” You ask him, and Keigo chuckles and the vibrations seem to travel from between your legs and right up your spine.

“For you?” He murmurs, and his tongue darts out - laps up your cunt from perineum to clit, and you swear you see stars. “Of course it is.”

Once Keigo has had a taste of you, there’s nothing you can do. You know it from past experience sprawled out on the bed beneath him as he works you over until you’re putty in his hands - when he wants someone, when he wants something, when something is his and it’s his responsibility . . . he will not rest until he’s wrung several orgasms out of you and you can barely move. The kitchen is a brand new development for this kind of thing, but Keigo is more than a little possessive and when you’ve murmured in the heat of the moment about christening every surface in his apartment it’s always gotten him going--

So it’s all you can do, really, to let him eat you out like he’s a man starved and he’s having his final meal before his untimely end.

To let your fingers curl around the rim and to give yourself into Keigo’s mouth as it hotly works you over; his tongue dragging through your folds as if he’s trying to drink you in. Your own mouth falls open as your breath escapes you in little surprised gasps; it seems that for every slow lap of his tongue, he manages to do some kind of swirling trick of athletics that makes you feel like you’re melting into a pleasured mess.

In between the licks and the sucks, he turns his attention back to the soft fullness of your thighs; drops little growling interludes of;

‘Mine’. ‘So beautiful’. ‘So good’. ‘You’re mine’. ‘Mine, mine, mine’.

Kisses and bites and licks and mumbles, the soft abrasive scratch of his scruff making you dizzy and light-headed as you feel all of the pleasure that he brings you work itself into tight knots in your stomach. Sometimes he bites just a little too hard, as if he wants to ensure that the mark takes - and though on another partner, you might push him away, with Keigo it’s hard to not just let your lashes flutter and a soft moan escape at the thought of just how much he wants you to be his.

There’s something to be said about having the mark of ownership of a man like Keigo upon your skin.

He rubs his cheeks against your thighs, uncaring of how your slick is fair dripping from your sex; covering himself in your scent the same way he tries to cover you in his own. You’ve heard him complain when you switch shower gels or perfumes or shampoos; you know he can’t get enough of the natural scent of you. He never cares about cuddling up to you when you feel sweaty or gross - in fact, a couple of times, you’ve thought that it really gets him going--

It’s getting much harder to think the longer Keigo uses his mouth on you.

It’s hard to think of anything other than the sensation of his tongue, the prickling pleasant heat that’s running through your veins, the groans of pleasure that he keeps putting forth with every new lap and suck and kiss of your clit. Your fingers twitch, your thighs shaking wildly, as you hover on the precipice of your orgasm.

“That’s right, beautiful,” he murmurs softly. “Come on. Come for me.”

There’s no question of doing anything but.

Your entire body goes taut all over, like a string waiting to be plucked - and then snaps, as your orgasm washes over you in fierce waves, making your body tingle like fireworks are being set off beneath your skin. You don’t try to muffle your noises - Keigo had coached that out of you with kisses and begging and telling you how much he loves hearing you - so soft whimpers and moans come issuing forth from your mouth, bouncing against the kitchen walls. Keigo makes his own noise in response; a coaxing kind of reassurance that you can let yourself go with him, you’re safe. His mouth is still pressed against your sex, though, his tongue still drinking in the slick you’re pumping out with every clench and pulse of your release.

He stays there even as the orgasm slowly subsides and feeling returns to your extremities. You’re sensitive, your thighs shaking - and Keigo chuckles, pulling back and looking up at you with his eyes all blown with adoration.

“I’ve missed the way you taste,” he tells you, tone teasing. “I’ve missed the way you sound, too. I’ve missed . . . all of that.”

“I’ve missed you more,” you say to him breathlessly. “A-are you going to let me repay the favour?”

Keigo laughs again, and the sound makes happiness bloom in your chest.

“No,” he says, sounding very sure of himself. “I’m not done with you yet, birdie. I need to make sure that every perfect inch of you remembers me; I need to make sure that you’re always with me, that you’re imprinted onto every part of me, that you know just how much I love you and I need you and that I can remember every part of you with my eyes closed--”

Your cheeks are hot at this profession of adoration. It’s not that Keigo is shy about these things - he said ‘I love you’ before you did - but . . . he’s not always prone to these big, grand gestures. He holds your hands and pulls you close and keeps you next to him, plays with your hair and remembers your favourites and checks in on you to make sure everything is alright as often as he can. Love story confessions are not his style--

And that’s how you know that he means every single syllable.

“Th-that’s not fair,” you say weakly, as Keigo takes your hand and tugs you through the apartment instead, a mirror of you taking him into the kitchen to clean his wounds. “I want to do all that for you too--!”

“Ah, but you didn’t get to saying it before me, did you?” He shoots you a broad grin, pulling you into the bedroom. The sheets on your huge bed are still rumpled; he raises one eyebrow. “Not sleep well without me, birdie?”

“You know I never do,” you whisper, and his face goes impossibly soft. He pulls you closer to him, pressing his nose against your own so that the two of you are staring directly into one another’s eyes.

“I love you,” he says, plain and simple. His hands go to touch your hips, to slide up to your waist and to your chest, his touch reverent like a sculptor and his masterpiece. “I love everything about you. If it were up to me, I’d spend every waking minute with you - I’d never let you leave our bed. We’d have everything we need. I . . .” He swallows. “I want to be with you forever.”

“I want to be with you forever, too,” you breathe out - you bring your hand up to stroke over his shoulders, to delicately curve over the musculature in his back to where his wings stand proudly out. He lets out a soft noise of pleasure at the soft touch of your fingers on the downy feathers at the base, his cheeks going pink.

“Then let me take care of you,” Keigo murmurs, softly. “Let me come inside of you so many times you don’t remember what it feels like to have anything inside of you but me.” He takes a shuddering breath - and despite your earlier orgasm, your breath catches and your pulse beats between your thighs as if it’s agreeing that he can do whatever he wants with you. “Please.”

“Keigo--”

“Say I can, birdie.”

His touch gets desperate. His thumbs dig into the soft meat of your waist, the plump pudge there. You make the mistake of flickering your eyes away from his gaze, to between you and below your eye line, to see the way that his cock is tenting the front of his pants in need. You think about Keigo’s cock - about how it feels inside of you, about how perfectly it fills you up, about the sensation of having him come inside and keep going, keep pumping himself into you--

“Keigo,” you breathe, eyes flicking back up to him. “Of course you can.”

As much as you want to get on your knees for him and bring him the same pleasure he’s already brought you today, you can tell that this means a lot to Keigo - and so you’re not surprised when he groans out loud and pulls you back into a fierce kiss. Your lips are nibbled on, your tongue danced with, your entire body dragged into a kiss that Keigo puts every muscle into - until he pulls back, breathless.

“Can we get this off you now?” He asks, tugging at your nightshirt. “Kind of weird to be looking at myself right now, even if I do look very cute as a cartoon--”

You laugh as you pull the dark red cotton over your head. You have a brief moment of doubt - that same flash that comes across you every time you fully disrobe in front of Keigo, a voice in your head saying that you’re not good enough or pretty enough for him - but it’s a doubt that Keigo quickly dispels as he pushes you back onto the bed and begins to pepper every inch of your newly exposed skin with bites and kisses.

“I love these,” he murmurs, palming at your chest with rough calloused hands, plucking your nipples between thumb and forefinger until they stand to stiff attention. “They’re so pretty.” A pinch, and you whine, back arching. “And so sensitive--!”

His tongue follows the path of his fingers, swirling around the nipple and sucking on it with a soft pop until you’re whining even louder, spreading your thighs apart for him in a silent plea to get on with it.

“You’re being needy,” he tells you, with a bite to the swell of your breast that you can tell will leave a bruise. “And I love it. Ask me nicely, pretty birdie--”

“Please fuck me, Keigo,” you say, breathless with need and want and the dizzying desire to have him inside of you. “Please, I want you inside of me--”

He kisses you fiercely again; fabric is displaced lower down his body as he works his trousers off without for a moment breaking the contact of your two lips. His cock slaps against the roundness of your tummy, leaving wet precome in a smear over your navel - hard and long, stiff and aching to find anchor in your port.

“You have no idea what hearing you say that does to me,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. “Spread wider, angel, alright?”

You obey him, spreading your thighs so wide that it’s almost painful.

The two of you have had to experiment with positions many times - Keigo’s wings provide an interesting challenge for ensuring that both of you are comfortable. Even now, in this simplest of positions, his wings make a canopy over you and give a soft red-warm glow to everything beneath them. Keigo smiles at you so softly that it feels like melting, and then his cock is nudging the lips of your sex apart and slowly slowly slowly sinking inside of you.

It’s gratifying, to finally be full. His tongue felt good, but there’s a kind of intimacy in this that it can’t replicate - a feeling that the two of you are melding together, hearts beating as one. Keigo’s eyes flutter closed, a soft sigh escaping his pretty mouth.

“You have no idea how you feel,” he chokes out. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you--”

“You feel like home,” you say to Keigo, and he whines and sheathes himself fully inside of you.

His arms wrap around you, pulling you up so you’re not just laid directly on the bed. His nails - fingers a little sharp, like talons - rake down your back, scratching into you, as he gets used to feel of you hot and tight and wet around him. The two of you are both panting, your own arms wrapping around his neck so you’re as close to him as you can possibly be.

He crashes his lips against yours at the same time as he begins to move his hips in hungry little circles. He isn’t yet fucking in and out of you in wild abandon, but this is still overwhelming after being without him for a few nights and forgetting all of the places inside of you that are stoked like a brand new fire by his cock, stretching you out. You move your hips against him in tiny increments, his abdomen rubbing against your swollen clit in a way that sends pleasant little frissons of electricity up and down your spine.

The electric mixes with the scratches of Keigo’s hands, an overwhelming symphony of sensation that is at once too much and not enough. You lose track of time - you lose track of anything but the feel of Keigo inside of you, the pleasure of being stretched and fucked and taken and knowing you are loved.

His lips against yours, his words against your ear with whispers of how much he loves you and how beautiful you are and how good you are for him. Your own words, coming out slurred and breathless as you both chase your orgasms, wanting to crest that hill together.

“Keigo,” you’re whimpering. “Keigo, Keigo, Keigo.” Chants of his name spilling out of your lips like prayer beads, prayers that he drinks up with his kisses and his own soft entreaties of your name.

“I’m going to--”

“I want you to--”

“Fill me up, please--”

“Fuck--”

You both lose track of who is actually the one speaking; the words come out in a spill that’s mirrored by the twitch of your thighs and the coil of heat in your stomach. Your orgasm hits you like a train, and your fingers curl into Keigo’s short hair at the same time as he digs his teeth into the soft place where your neck meets your shoulders and his cock pulses inside of you, spilling his seed into your sex, marking you out as his. Your own release gushes over his cock, your cunt clenching around him as you pant and whimper. You’re light-headed and dizzy as you chase your aftershocks, gyrating your hips on his softening cock to eke out every last drop of pleasure you can. Keigo’s hands stay on you, sliding to the small of your back, encouraging you as he sucks and kisses on the bitemarks and lets his own pants fill the air.

The comfortable silence that follows your releases lasts only a moment.

He’s come inside of you once, and your body feels full and satiated with your own orgasm, but that’s not enough for Keigo. Even as he pulls out, his cock is already hardening again, a soft groan falling from his mouth as it slaps against the soft flesh of your inner thighs.

“Tell me I can fuck you again,” he murmurs. “I want you to be full of me, birdie. I want you to be dripping with my come for weeks. I need t’fill you up so bad--”

You manage to screw up all of your left-over energy - not that there was much of it - to roll over, gathering yourself up on your hands and knees, spreading your legs further apart and balancing yourself on your elbows. It’s a position the two of you have used often, made all the more comfortable by Keigo’s expensive bed. It means that you don’t have to do much more work than stay there and thrust your hips back into him - and, crucially, it means that Keigo gets so deep inside of you that you swear you feel him in your stomach.

“Yes,” Keigo breathes, already gathering himself up onto his knees. He drops kisses onto the places on your shoulder blades and spine he scratched earlier, soft feather-light whispers of how much he adores you. “Fuck, angel--”

He fits inside of you like a glove; your earlier exertions making him slide inside of you so easily you barely feel the stretch. Your fingers clench into the sheets as you moan out a prayer that sounds like his name, as Keigo continues to drop wet messy kisses all over you. He’s rambling now, about how beautiful you look like this and how good you feel.

“I should fuck you on every surface in the house,” he whispers, as he begins to work his hips back and forth, sliding easily into a rhythm. “I should christen every single one of them, so it feels like home--”

“Okay,” you breathe in return, moving your hips as much as you can. You’re going to come again, you realise, embarrassingly quickly. He just feels so deep inside of you - like there is no end to where he starts or you begin, like there’s nothing in the universe but the two of you and the places you’re joined. One of his hands slaps over yours, holding it as best he can in the position you’re in.

“I need to fill you up,” he’s panting. “I need you . . . need you to be mine, need you to know how much I love you, need you need you need you--”

“I need you,” you reply, in a whimper that feels like a sob as he adjusts his hips just so and oh, the spots he hits inside of you with every thrust . . . You feel born anew again; like this is the first time Keigo has fucked you and you’re as sensitive as a virgin. You squeeze your eyes closed. “I need you more-- please fill me up, I want to be yours, please please please--”

“Say my name,” Keigo begs into your ear, the words broken up with pants. “Say you love me.”

“K-Keigo--!” Your voice pitches as your orgasm clenches all up inside of you. You feel yourself tighten around him. The feeling of him inside of you, the wet glide of his cock, the sting of the bites and scratches from your earlier extremely enthusiastic love-making, all converging together until you can do nothing but let the white hot feeling take you over completely. “I l-love you--”

A moaning whimpering groan of your name, and the two of you are coming together. Keigo’s cock is twitching inside of you, spilling more thick ropes of his come as deep into you as he can to join his earlier load. You moan as you feel it trickle down your thighs, as he fucks it in deeper chasing the aftershocks of his orgasm and your body collapses into a jelly-like mass of nothing but feeling. Keigo lets you collapse and follows you down, breathless laughs turning into moans as you lie there for a few moments sweating and panting in the afterglow of your lovemaking.

It takes a little while for the two of you to disentangle yourself fully; for Keigo’s cock to pop out of you (followed by a little rush of your mixed fluids), for him to drag your sweat-soaked body against him without caring for how you must be messing up the sheets.

“I love you too,” he says, a belated reply to your call as you’d come. Your face goes hot at the reminder.

You curl up against his chest shyly, cheek pressed to his beating heart. Your fingers come up to trace patterns over his skin, and he makes a noise low in his throat almost like a chirp, pleasure at your touch melding with the pleasure of what has transpired between you both. He’s always a little more bird-like in this state; relaxed and sated and happy.

A phone rings somewhere in the distance, and he groans. Eyes fluttering shut.

“It’s in my pocket,” he mumbles in annoyance. “It’ll be the Commission.”

You make a soft noise of displeasure at the Hero Commission already wanting to monopolise his time when it feels like he’s been home for an hour or two at most.

“I’d hoped we’d have a bit longer this time,” you say, and you hope that you don’t sound petulant. You don’t want to resent Keigo’s job! You know he’s one of the top heroes for a reason! But curled up in bed, it’s hard to reconcile Wing Hero: Hawks and Keigo, your boyfriend, your lover, your home. You want longer with him. You want to keep him for yourself.

His mouth twists. Resolutely, he wraps his arms back around you.

“We will,” he says, as he continues to ignore the ringing. “We’ll have more time. They can wait a day. I still have more things I want to do to you.”

“Unfair,” you say, hiding your smile in his chest. “It’s my turn to do things to you.”

He laughs and presses a kiss on the top of your head. The scratches and bruises and bites from your earlier exertions sting pleasantly; a reminder of home, a reminder of Keigo, a reminder of belonging.

“Okay,” he says, with a faux sigh. “It’ll be a challenge, but I’ll take one for the team. I guess you can do things to me next time.”

Both of you laugh and snuggle in closer to one another.

The bed feels so much more right with Keigo in it beside you.

#commissioned work #writing #not sfw text #mha x reader #bnha x reader #hawks x reader #hawks smut #bnha posting #chubby reader posting #bnha smut #mha smut

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ilyluffy · 1 year

Text

𝐤𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐦𝐢 + 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐬

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: when keigo won’t give you a break you have no choice but to relieve yourself where he has you trapped

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: keigo takami x afab!reader

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: smut {minors + ageless blogs dni!! you’ll be blocked}

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: dom!keigo, established relationship, heat/breeding kink, vaginal sex, overstimulation, pee, rough sex, creampies, petnames “sweet baby, precious baby”

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 0.6k+

𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐌 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐊𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐎 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐍𝐎 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆. he’s been delivering load after load into your tiny pussy. so much so that there was no more room and all his excess seed was leaking out of you. that didn’t matter because the winged hero was in heat and he was giving you a break until he was satisfied with how much he bred you.

this would have been fine if you didn’t desperately need to use the bathroom. you’ve been holding it knowing that keigo was too enthralled with your cunt to even think about pulling out, much less allowing you to take a break to go to the toilet. you had hoped that he would settle down before it was impossible to hold in your pee but unfortunately you were wrong.

despite knowing what the answer will be, you start to beg with a pathetic whimper. “j-just need a second. please keigo i have to go”.

your pleas fall on deaf ears as hawks continues rutting into your overstimulated cunt. you’re practically sobbing as you struggle to hold in what’s threatening to come pouring out. eventually the animalistic trance that keigo was in seems to fade away as he finally speaks. “if you need to go then go. you should know by now that i don’t care about the mess”.

the thought of doing such a thing in front of him is humiliating but hawks isn’t leaving you much of a choice. you close your eyes and cover your face with your hands as if you’re making a pathetic attempt to hide from the situation at hand. as you do the sheets underneath you start to feel warm.

keigo groans as he sees the damp spot on the mattress spread. you’re seriously pissing yourself as he treats you like nothing more than his personal cum dump. maybe he should be grossed out and disgusted but hawks feels quite the opposite. if anything this spurs him on even more. all of a sudden he’s fucking you harder than he was earlier.

“w-we need to stop” you cry out as you start to feel dizzy from how much he’s pounding your pussy. you know the mess has to be cleaned up before the smell settles. on top of that you’re not sure how much more embarrassment you can take from laying in your own filth. once again, it feels like you might as well be mute because you’re not being heard.

“don’t look so ashamed, sweet baby” keigo coos, uncovering your face so he can look at you properly. you expect for him to stare down at you with revulsion but if anything it appears that his pupils have turned into hearts. “shit- i’ll let you go after we make one more big mess, okay? show me how nasty you can be”.

even if you hadn’t wanted to go along with this deal, your cunt wouldn’t have been able to resist. you feel so good from having him use you like this. just like you couldn’t hold in your pee, you can control your incoming orgasm either. with a few more sharp thrusts and slams against your cervix later, you’re cumming with a broken wail.

“that’s my precious baby. you gonna take everything i give you again?” he asks. with a few tears of exhaustion slipping down your cheeks, you nod weakly. by now you’re a little less horrified by your accident and you’re craving to be stuffed full again. keigo certainly doesn’t disappoint you by thoroughly filling you to the brim again.

by the time the thick wipe ropes stop shorting from his tip, you expect keigo to pull out as promised. however he doesn’t immediately. you’re about to tell him that you physically can’t take another round but before you can you feel something else come spraying out of keigo’s cock head to paint your gummy walls.

“sorry. guess i needed to go too” keigo pants, resting his sweaty forehead against yours as he relieves himself inside of you. “𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐈𝐅 𝐈’𝐌 𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐈 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐀𝐘 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐆𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌”.

#keigo takami #hawks #my hero academia #bnha #mha #keigo takami x reader #keigo takami smut #hawks x reader #hawks smut #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia smut #bnha x reader #bnha smut #mha x reader #mha smut #apollo writes ✎

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soleilandpeaches · 1 year

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it's enough to make a girl blush

Keigo Takami x Fem!Reader

synopsis: he really just wanted to let you sleep; he should've known how much of a nympho his precious girlfriend was.

song title inspo: Wet Dream by Wet Leg

Warnings: cursing, oral sex (m!receiving/implied f!receiving), petnames, afab reader, orgasms

Dragging his feet through the hallway and into your room, boots echoing softly as he tries not to wake you. Once he enters your room he stands over your sleeping figure as he discards his clothes. He settles on the edge of your bed, watching you sleep in comfortable silence; the only sound being your dozing, even breaths.

He reaches his hand to you, silently petting your head before running his fingers down your misshapen braids you wear to bed. He lets out a long sigh, watching as you mumble listlessly in your sleep, ever so slightly leaning into his touch as his fingers gently stroke the apple of your cheek. He smiles, even in your sleep you still yearn for him.

Stepping out of the bathroom and back into your room, his mouth tasting minty and his face feeling fresh; he lifts up the covers and snuggles into your bed next to you, his arm reaching around your shoulder to pull you into his chest. He presses your hair to his nose and takes a long whiff of you, breathing out another long sigh.

You washed your hair today, he notes, grinning to himself again before his face falls quickly; he feels his cock stir in his boxers.

Shit.

Smoothing his hand over the print in his pants, he curses weakly to himself.

He can’t do this next to you, he thinks. Not only will it risk waking you up, but the thought of doing something so lewd when you sleep so peacefully next to him causes him to grimace.

No, he chastises, he’ll just get up and take care of it in the bathroom. No big deal. He's a grown man, after all.

And yet, just as he goes to sit up, you latch onto him, refusing to let him leave you again after you just got him back. Though you’re still asleep, which he would find adorable despite the raging hard on desperately needing his attention.

A part of him does want to wake you, selfishly, he might add. But damnit, he loves you too much, and he knows the one thing you love to do almost more than fuck him is sleep. What kind of man–no–boyfriend, would he be to rob you of your much needed rest.

Begrudgingly, he carefully pulls you off of him to stand, just until your sweet and innocent voice whispers to him: “Where are you going?” You murmur sleepily.

“Shhh,” he hushes lightly. “Just going to the bathroom. Go back to sleep, Dove.” He urges gently but your eyes have already peeled open, admiring his naked chest and legs and oh.

It didn’t take you long to find out why he was leaving you so hastily.

“It'll hurt to pee with that, no?” You tease him tenderly, your eyes barely lifted and your lips curling into an amused grin.

He breathes your name softly, “Just go back to sleep.” He exhales, turning his back to you as he sits at the end of the bed, ready to stand before your chest meets his back and your arms wrap around his neck, hands coming to rest against his pecs.

You press your cheek into the space his wings meet his back, causing them to flutter for a moment. A shiver flows through him at the feeling of your soft, pillowy lips pressed against him. You lift your head lazily, allowing your warm breath to fan against his neck; his hair rapidly standing as his body burns hot.

He attempts to say your name again, struggling to sound more assertive yet it comes out closer akin to a hushed plea.

“Yes?” you coo against his ear seductively. He hates the effect you have on him, hating your torturous self-awareness and how you love to hold his weak resolve against him.

“Are you mad at me?” You press desperately, your hands kneading against his muscles, trailing lower and lower and stopping just above where he needed you the most, only to glide teasingly back up, your nails gently scraping across his stomach causing his abdomen to flex. Your fingers halt once you reach his nipples, feeling them harden at your touch, you gently tug and pinch as your lips nibble and nip at his ear and neck.

“No,” his voice cracks as you mouth at the back of his earlobe, fingers continuing their assault on his chest.

“I just didn’t wanna bother you.” He admits finally, breathing out the words that were trapped in his chest. Although, he knows now he couldn’t have been far from that, since you seem to be fully enjoying yourself and ravaging his body. You seem to agree, huffing out a short laugh.

“You’re not bothering me.” You murmur against his neck, slowly coaxing him back into bed.

Once he turns back around to face you, he cups your face in his palms and pulls you forward into a sweet and soft kiss–the kisses he knows get you to melt underneath him. And to no one’s surprise, you sigh happily into his mouth, your lips curving upwards as your arms loop back around his shoulders and your hand grips the back of his head, bringing him closer to your sweet mouth. A series of smooches following and resonating through the room.

Suddenly, your arms untie themselves so you can push him back against the soft cushions of your bed. He watches intently as you lean over him, the way you swing your hips: seductive and confident as you slowly crawl over him. You place yet another gentle kiss to his parted lips, your tongue tenderly teasing into his mouth before you pull away, smirking down at him as you watch his lips chase yours. But before he can protest, you’re littering kisses from his chin, to his jaw, and down his throat, suckling and nibbling as you go.

You peer up at him through your lashes as you take one of his nipples into your mouth and suck. You watch as he keens, purring as one hand flys to the back of your neck and the other simply resting against your arched spine.

You bring one of your hands to fiddle with the other, causing him to arch his chest into you: chasing the pleasure of your talented tongue.

Gasps and soft moans fall from his mouth as he squirms underneath you. He feels your self-satisfied smirk against him but he doesn’t care, not when you're making him feel so good.

Once your hand leaves his chest to rub down his body to the hem of his pants, he feels himself twitch in excitement. He trembles as you pull off his nipple with a wet pop! You then ask him if you can take them off.

“Yes! Fuck Angel, please don’t stop…”

You giggle, tugging them down his legs before you settle in between them. He feels your lips find the corner of his mouth as your dominant hand gently grips the base of his dick, squeezing experimentally before slowly (and agonizingly) tugging upwards, your hand twisting as you do so.

“Fuck, baby please.” Eyes screwed shut, he begs shamelessly; he just needed to feel you.

“Please what?”

“Please touch me…”

“I am touching you.” The smug hilt in your voice doing nothing to aid in his frustration.

“Please!” He cries, “I need you so bad!”

Giving in, you shush him coolly. “You have me, Sweet boy.” You promise, your voice a warm quell to his nerves. Peeking his eyes open, he gazed up at you endearingly. His hands find home on your hips, thumbs gently rubbing hearts into your skin as you bend forward, arching your back as your lips wrap around his leaking tip.

He feels your tongue flick against his frenulum, causing him to let out a gasp followed by a breathy whimper. You chuckle against him, sucking him further into your warm mouth until you reach the base of his pelvis, your nose nuzzling against his trimmed pubes.

“Oh fuck Sweetheart, just like that…”

You hum happily against his dick, the vibrations sending a pleasurous tremor up his spine. He eases his hand on top of your head and allows you to pull off him, hollowing your cheeks as you do so, peering up at his addicting, flushed out expression.

You sink back down faster than you came up, his hips lifting involuntarily, thrusting down your throat and emitting you to gag around him.

“Fuck! Yes! Shit, baby…”

Your separate, unoccupied hand joins between his legs to fondle at his balls, squeezing as you slurp and choke around him.

He swears to himself heaven could never compare to the heat of your lewd mouth or your sweet pussy. Nothing in this world could ever compare to how good you make him feel, his beautiful, perfect girl.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum baby…”

“Fuck!” His hoarse breath tapering off into a high pitched whine as his hips pick up in pace, holding you in place against him as your tongue lavishes and twists around his cock. His eyes roll back until all you see is white, cursing and groaning your name aloud. Continuing to feel your moans against him, he fucks his fill down your throat with hot white spurts of cum, grinning when he feels you swallow without being told.

“Good girl…” he sighs with relief.

You beam sleepily up at him, compelling your lips off his cock unhurried, cheekily shaking your ass for him as you do. Your eyes hold a playful mirth as you let excess cum run down your lips and down into your his shirt. He stares as you lick your lips before he shoves your shirt up into your mouth to watch his cum travel between the valley of your breasts. Leaning forward, he licks a stripe between your tits; his hand reaching up to unashamedly grope at you, pulling and tugging at your nipples as you did him.

He marvels at your pathetic, beautiful whimpers and whines. Lifting his head, he opts to drop your shirt from your mouth to replace it with his own. Prodding his tongue between your parted lips, he kisses you hungrily, pushing his own cum back into your mouth. His hand gripping your soft cheeks and pressing you against his face, his stubble scratching against you.

Releasing you, he smirks down at your panting, blushing face, lips swollen and red. It takes you a moment but you eventually smile back at him, lip catching between your teeth as your hands continue to explore him.

“Guess I should return the favor, Sweet girl."

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snnrinc · 9 months

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Zburătorul: The One Who Flies

Zburătorul (zboo-ruh-toh-rule; directly translated as The Flyer or The One Who Flies) is a supernatural being in Romanian folklore, the embodiment of erotic desire and the epitome of temptation. Beware of falling victim to his loving embrace, his lustful gaze and his charming words. Having a taste of him will leave you longing for more, and soon, more will not be enough and you will be driven to insanity. But, if he steps into your room...

... then it’s already too late.

— PAIRING : Hawks/Keigo Takami x F!Reader [AO3 Portal]

— WARNINGS : NSFW, smut, fantasy AU, afab!reader, use of she/her pronouns, PIV, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, feather play, outdoor sex, creampie, overstimulation, porn with plot, bad poetry

— WORD COUNT : 14.3k

— AUTHOR'S NOTE : Inspired by the myth of the Flyer (pretty obviously). This AU takes place sometime in the 1800s. You can think of the Commission/Hero society as some sort of Olympus in this AU. Thanks for taking the time to read!

It was a day like any other, your sleeves raised up as much as you could to allow the breeze to cool you down, your headscarf protecting your head from the scorching sun but doing nothing to help with the sweat running down your body. You tried to move fast — the faster you work, the quicker you can finally take some rest — but you knew you’d be stuck between the vines, picking grapes until sundown. It was today that you were on duty, after all, other members from your family and neighbouring ones working the same as you in other rows from the vineyard.

You took a moment to wipe your hands on your apron before raising the fabric up to wipe your forehead. To say you were tired would be an understatement, but it was certainly better to be here, harvesting grapes, than the alternative of tilling the fields. Your hands were already calloused from last week when you had to work. Then again, with the amount of field work you were doing, the normal state of your hands seemed to be bruised and rough, so you were not surprised.

Your village was thriving on farming and especially on the large vineyards stretching across acres of land, feeding the prosperous wine industry of the town not too far from where you lived. Naturally, the large majority of people in the area made a living between rows of vines, yourself included.

Following the taste of fine wine and many business opportunities, people from across the country passed through the town next to your village, some settling down and creating a hub of what some villagers would call modern civilization. But out of all the shops opening their doors warmly to sell the most delicious food, most precious jewellery, most beautiful clothes, and of course, most flavourful wine, nothing quite caught your eye like the new library that opened just shy of the town centre.

You covered your forehead with your hand, shadowing your vision as you looked up at the sky. The sun was right above you, blazing down on you relentlessly. It was barely noon and you were not yet done, surely the library would close by the time you reach the town, but you were hoping today was another day when the head librarian would stay behind. You sighed as you grabbed a small piece of rope and tied the now empty vine to the metal wires running through the row, preventing the vine from falling to the ground from its own weight.

You continued working for a few hours, time melting under the heat of the sun, until soon dusk began approaching and the people working alongside you started vacating the vineyard. You quickly left your place and began running through the rows of grapevines, hoping that if you were quick enough you’d reach the carriage of people heading towards the town to spend a few hours reading before heading home. As you made your way closer to the street, you shouted once and the coachman turned towards you before beaming once he recognised you.

“Ah, there you are! Come aboard!” Mirio gestured lively for you to join the other workers in the carriage once you reached him. “Going home?”

“No, town centre.”

Mirio’s smile faltered, making way for a concerned expression to slip through his bright one. “Again? At this time? It’s getting dark.”

“Aren’t you the sweetest for being worried about your friend?” You smiled. “I promise I’ll be home before long.”

Mirio sighed, but didn’t stop you as you climbed inside the carriage, squeezing next to the other workers. “You always say this. I’m not passing through the village until tomorrow afternoon, I won’t be able to take you home.”

When he didn’t hear you respond, he sighed and resigned to flicking the reins of the horse in front of him, starting towards the town centre. Along the way, people kept getting off at different points, in front of their houses, at crossroads, near taverns, until you were the only one left inside the carriage. Mirio was quiet, but he knew where you wanted to get off, so he didn’t stop until he reached the library. After all, this was not the first time you’d decided to come all the way here to read, borrow books or bring them back to search for others. He’d usually pass back on his way to his home in the village, so he’d collect you from near the library to take you home safely at the end of the day, but duty called for a detour tonight. The pang of guilt and worry that you’d be alone in the dead of night, far from home, could not be soothed by the roll of your eyes and your reassurance that you were a grown adult capable of making decisions for yourself. Nonetheless, you appreciated your friend’s worry, making it known as you bid him farewell and headed towards the dark oak doors of the library.

With a soft breath, you pulled the heavy door open, pleasantly surprised that it was not locked even as the sun began drifting towards the horizon, touching it and bathing the skies in oceans of red, purple and navy hues. You closed the door behind you, wincing at the way the old metal hinges creaked loudly in the silence of the library. You looked around and, once you noticed there was no one around, silently stepped further in, gliding through isles of bookshelves like a ghost, trying to keep your presence as hidden as possible. You couldn’t allow the librarian to see you after a day of work, covered in dirt and grime, again. Apologising too many times for the same issue like looking disheveled was tiring, even if he had told you it was not a problem.

With swift steps, you made your way through the library, grabbing books here and there, before settling at an empty table and opening one you had been reading in the past few days.

“Of Myths, Love and Desire,” the title read, golden on a cobalt blue cover. You gently brushed your fingers over the writing, feeling the protruding letters for what seemed like the hundredth time since you first laid your hand on the book. Next to it on the table, there were various books authored by different poets, all having one thing in common.

The creature that captured your attention.

When you first started reading poems a few months ago, after you had finished several fantasy books and were looking for something new to get lost into, they were describing the stone-heavy weight of heartbreak, the cold touch of sadness, the solitude that comes with reaching heights of knowledge that the average person couldn’t comprehend and the serenity of simply basking in the magic of nature. Steadily, the poems started to weave verses about love, about its purity and the vice-like grip it can have on a human’s heart. But then, something else bled through declarations of love and everlasting loyalty, slipping through the cracks of descriptions of sweet kisses and bashful hugs.

Desire.

And with it came him.

It started with a poem about a creature, a man, a star gliding down from the skies, visiting an innocent woman at night, slipping through the window of her chambers. Lovers, you found out, from the verse in which she latched onto his neck as he stole a kiss from her, happily inviting him into her bed.

Then another, this time from the woman’s perspective, about how her dreams were tormented by the handsome man, her body aching for his touch, unable to reach that sweet release without his help. She was begging the heavens for pity through heavy breaths, but received none.

And yet another, deemed a masterpiece by critics, as you’d read in the preface. A story following the journey of an evening star visiting the object of his affection at night after receiving her call. But this time, he was not there just for his own pleasure, or to drive her mad with lust. This time, he sought love, taking on various forms, divine and devilish alike, to please his lover, willing to give up on everything he was to be together with his love, but ultimately being rejected by reason that he belonged to a different world, the woman then seeking love in the arms of a mortal. You scoffed at that — how ridiculous to say no to such an opportunity — but you still checked the preface again to see just why these critics liked the poem so much, and you’d read about the myth there. About who they called “The One Who Flies”. You didn’t know what took over you when you scoured the bookshelves for more information about him, but that was when you found the book you now had open in front of you.

Soon enough, you hung onto every word. There were parts describing him as handsome and alluring, an otherworldly being fallen onto Earth to plant the seed of lust into humans. He’d visit them in their dreams and have them experience a pleasure so intense they would be driven to insanity, addicted to him to the point that only witches could ever save them from desire through spells and potions. Some sources described him as an incubus, some as a star or a personification of evil. You soon delved into the myth of Eros and Psyche, entranced by how love could ever be combined with something such as lust that you had been conditioned to find repulsive.

You thought back to a conversation you overheard between the men in the fields while working. The way they were describing the acts they wanted to perform on their partners had you scrunch up your nose in disgust at the vulgarity of their words. Who would’ve thought you’d find yourself in a library chair, clenching your thighs at the thought of having this mysterious creature perform the same acts on you? But in your fantasy, his smile wasn’t sleazy and condescending, it was warm and inviting. His touch wasn’t revolting or careless, it was calculated and scorching. His words weren’t distasteful, they were hypnotising as he’d whisper just how beautiful you look unravelling yourself to him, free for him to take you.

“You okay?”

You jumped in your seat, slamming the book shut and almost dropping it before you swallowed the dryness in your throat, painfully aware of how your core was pulsing in time with your heartbeat. You turned towards the voice and noticed the librarian staring at you, an eyebrow raised to emphasise his question.

“Aizawa,” you mindlessly said. “Y-yeah, I’m fine. I was just, uh, reading quickly before heading home.”

“You seemed pretty engrossed in what you’re reading.” He checked his pocket watch. “It’s almost half past midnight.”

You’d been daydreaming for that long?

Aizawa’s eyes shifted from you to the books on the table. He leaned in a bit to see the titles better and you instinctively covered the book you were just reading, afraid he’d somehow figure out what you were thinking. He leaned back into his position and sighed, but didn’t comment any further before he turned around and started walking towards the front desk.

“Come. I’ll add those books to your ‘borrowed’ list then take you home. It’s very late and we have to close the library.”

You hastily stood up and started gathering the books from the table. “Ah, I’m so sorry! I completely forgot to check the time and I saw nobody was here so…” you trailed off, feeling guilty as you followed Aizawa through the bookshelves.

He spared you a glance before speaking again, “No need to apologise, I was here until late, too.”

You were both silent for a while as you reached the desk and he pulled out a thick notebook from one of the drawers. Your name had its own few pages with the amount of books you had been borrowing for so long, so he easily found it and looked up at you, waiting for you to tell him the titles you’d be taking home this time. You looked at all the books and their titles, reading them out loud. “Anthology of Love Poems”, “Myths And Muses” and lastly, “Of Myths, Love and Desire”. You hugged the books close to your chest, looking away bashfully as Aizawa scribbled the titles and his signature on the paper. He quickly glanced at you from underneath his lashes, still hunched over the desk and writing, before he looked back at the notebook and spoke:

“You seem to be very interested in romance lately,” he noted, but it almost sounded like a question to you.

“Not really.” You shifted your weight from one leg to the other, ashamed that it may be obvious what you were thinking, but even though Aizawa seemed unconvinced, he didn’t push the matter further. You were thankful, of course, that you didn’t have to awkwardly find an explanation other than ‘I’ve been fantasising about a mythological creature for the past few months’, which you reckoned would make you sound insane. Not only that, but you were aware how having any sort of lewd thoughts was viewed by society and you didn’t want to ruin the relationship you had built with Aizawa over the months.

Before making your way outside of the old building, you watched Aizawa close the notebook and safely put it back in its place before walking around the library to extinguish the oil lamps that were still dimly illuminating the place. Once he was done and joined your side again, he held the door open for you and you thanked him gently as you walked outside, the old door creaking the same as before when Aizawa closed it, locking it with a padlock and shoving the key in the pocket of his coat. He offered to hold your books for you and you refused with a smile, telling him he doesn’t even need to walk you all the way home.

“Nonsense,” he dismissed. “I can’t have you walk alone at night. Especially since I’m going that way, too.”

You said nothing in return, since insisting wouldn’t do much to convince Aizawa anyway. For the rest of your walk the silence between you was filled by the sound of crickets and grasshoppers, a symphony accompanied by the soft rustling of the leaves in the night breeze. The crisp air was a welcome change from the blazing heat you had to endure all day, and you felt yourself relax, tiredness finally catching up with you. With how distracted and increasingly more exhausted you were, you almost forgot to stop walking once you reached the gate of your yard. You politely thanked Aizawa once again for walking you home and wished him a safe journey to his own house before turning around, starting towards the gate.

“You know,” you heard his voice call out from behind you and you turned to look at him. He paused for a second, as if carefully choosing his next words. “You’re one of the library’s regular visitors and I’m glad you’re so interested in learning. But just don’t let it stop you from taking care of yourself.”

You blinked and wondered if the exhaustion showed on your face that obviously. It was clear you had gone to the library right after working for almost a full day in the vineyard, but in your defense you weren’t really planning on bumping into Aizawa.

You smiled softly. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.” And with a wave, you disappeared beyond the gate, reaching your front door and opening it softly to not wake up your family.

Quickly but quietly, you made your way through the house, finally completing your daily routine. After you left your books safely in your room on your desk, you grabbed your nightgown and bathed yourself at last, albeit with cold water since you didn’t have the time or patience to light a fire to warm it up. Thankfully, the midsummer air was warm enough to not have you shivering as you enjoyed the fragrance of the handmade soap you had bought from a new shop in the town centre. Even so, the cool water was not enough to distract you from the undercurrent of lust still buzzing under your skin.

Not wasting any time, you quickly dried yourself and put on your nightgown so you wouldn’t catch a cold. You threw out the water you used and soon found yourself at the window of your room, opening it to let in the fresh night air and the calming sounds of the night critters and rustling of leaves. You looked down and noticed the tulips in your garden were closed up, deep in slumber as you should’ve been. But instead, your gaze drifted higher, along the bark of a tree and up its branches, until it landed on the clear sky. And just like all your recent nights — if recent is what you can call a few months of longing — you stared at the stars for the thousandth time, memorising the constellations and wondering which one would be him.

It was ridiculous. You knew it. But looking around, the world you lived in just could not compare to the worlds painted by all the books you had read. The people, their ambitions, morals and motivations, would never instil that level of wonder and awe in you because all that you could see in real people were mere fragments and never the full picture.

And men would never know how to seduce you, nothing ever worked quite like the written word. Perhaps you were destined to die alone, a disappointing outcome for your family that had been attempting to convince you to find someone to marry for a few years.

Your feet carried you towards your bed, the wooden floorboards from under your window creaking from your movements. You let yourself fall unceremoniously on the bed, but instead of wallowing in self pity, your body had other needs that you had to take care of first, judging by the insistent pulse between your legs, only growing stronger the more you tried to wait it out. You groaned in frustration and let your hand glide over your chest, across your abdomen, caressing your thighs and eventually diving between them, finally soothing the ache you’d been feeling for hours. You wondered how this mythological man’s hands would feel on your skin. They said that the pleasure he’d induce would be so intense it would make you lose your mind, but maybe that was what you wanted, to finally lose it with no remorse.

Your fingers rubbed your clit faster before dipping inside your entrance, impatiently chasing your release. You wondered how his would feel like, how good they’d fill you up, how he’d reach all the right spots within you as his lips kissed you passionately, whispering poetic filth into your ear. Your pace got faster, a hand groping at your chest and shallow breaths leaving your lips as you tried to keep quiet, ashamed of how you spent your nights recently, overcome by desire and lost in your lewd thoughts.

Eventually, your back arched, the coil in your stomach releasing through pulses of pleasure as you retreated your hand and stared at the stars. In your state of temporary euphoria, you could’ve sworn they seemed to shine just a little bit brighter. You turned on your side, only one thought on your mind as your body melted into the bed and your eyelids grew heavier under the weight of exhaustion, a thought you absentmindedly voiced towards the sky as you drifted off to sleep.

“I wish you’d come to me…”

❈

Your sleep was peaceful, soft breaths accompanying the gentle breeze flowing through your open window, caressing your body and soothing your tired muscles. The stars shone brightly in the night sky, moonlight descending into your bedchamber and for a second, from the depth of your slumber, through your eyelids, you could see a ray of light shining brighter for just a moment, causing you to stir in your sleep. And soon, once the light died down, the floor beneath your window creaked.

At the sound, you cracked your eye open just a tiny bit, your vision blurry from you coming down from dreamland, but once you saw the figure of a man standing by your window, your body shot up, arms straightening and pushing you into a sitting position. You would’ve reached for something to use as a weapon, but realisation dawned on your face once you saw a pair of wings attached to his back. Whoever you were looking at was not human, and yet you somehow knew what he was, in the same way the absurdity of dreams seemed natural while lost in sleep. Perhaps that was what he was in that moment, a mirage your drowsy imagination crafted after months of yearning.

You stared at the man, dumbstruck, unable to comprehend how his presence was even possible. His blood red wings were neatly tucked behind him, his loose satin shirt showing off a part of his chest before the material disappeared into his dark trousers. He had a regal appearance, but upon examining his face, you noticed something less refined and more... animalistic. Far from the princely visage described in countless poems and myths. His golden eyes looked sharp, observant and almost glowing, his hair was blown back and messy, and his face was not clean shaven, evident stubble adorning his chin right under an easy-going smile.

However, if there was one accurate descriptor from all the books you’d read, it was that he was insanely handsome. But other than that, he didn’t look like a fallen angel nor like a lustful demon. Rather, his wings, the way his brows furrowed and the dark markings around his eyes reminded you of...

“... Hawks.”

You saw his smile falter for a second, his brows turning up in confusion. You quickly realised you were thinking out loud and cleared your throat, attempting to ease the awkwardness you created and to calm the restless beating of your heart. When did it even start beating faster?

“Sorry, it’s just... Your wings and eyes… They remind me of the hawks I see on the fields sometimes.”

You heard him chuckle and felt a wave of heat suddenly coursing through your veins at the sound.

“No need for an apology. I’d say that’s very creative. Humans usually tend to compare me to other types of creatures, but I quite like the sound of it. In fact, you sort of remind me of a bird, too.”

He slowly took a few steps into your room, his sharp eyes raking over your body, committing every detail of you to memory, from the way your nightgown hitched up your legs from how you moved in your sleep, draping over you body like a cloth hiding the enticing beauty of a sculpture, to how your tense shoulders seemed to relax, eyes looking up at him in awe and curiosity. His smile grew bigger.

“With how gentle and charming you look, that white gown you’re wearing… You remind me of a dove.”

The wave of heat now overtook you completely at the sound of the word and you shifted uncomfortably, a shiver breaking down your spine and only further serving to confuse you. You realised what — or rather who he was. You knew the kind of effect he could have on humans. And yet, you were still a little surprised at the foreign sensations that were manifesting. Your fantasies never managed to get you this flustered. Through your confusion and nervousness, you managed to find enough words to string together a question.

“What are you doing here?”

“I answered your call.”

There was a pause as you tried to understand the meaning of his words. “My call?”

“Yes,” he voiced softly. “You called for me, right as you dozed off to sleep, and I answered.”

His responses were matter-of-fact and you noticed how his gaze drifted over to the desk beside him, the books you borrowed laying neatly on its surface. He looked at them for a moment before turning his attention towards you again.

“I can sense it, you know?” He watched the confusion swirl in your eyes, a smile still steady on his face, but this time it wasn’t friendly and polite. It was seductive. “Your desire. It’s why I heard your call so clearly from the stars.”

You pursed your lips together, embarrassed that you were caught red handed, and for the first time since you laid your eyes on him, you looked away. You heard him chuckle softly and it only made your frown deepen.

“No need to be ashamed, dove. It’s completely natural.” His expression softened and he tilted his head to the side as he leaned on the edge of your desk and crossed his arms over his chest, accentuating the muscles beneath his shirt. “It’s a shame, really, how humans lie to themselves about their nature.”

Your eyes shifted back to him. “What do you mean?”

He vaguely gestured with his hand in the air. “Well, should a fish feel ashamed for craving water? Should a bird feel ashamed of its need to sing? Should a human who hasn’t eaten in days be ashamed of their hunger?” He saw you turn your attention fully to him, as if answering him with a silent ‘no, of course not.’ He placed his hand back across his chest. “Then tell me, why are humans so ashamed of sex?”

You gasped at his choice of words, but the way he was looking at you, almost amused at your reaction, told you he didn’t actually need an answer. Not that he gave you a chance to say anything before he continued talking.

“The brutes you live among only speak of the filthy side of love-making. They paint a disgusting picture that would turn any person away from it.” He took a moment to observe your reaction, and you could see his sharp eyes darken. “But you, dove, you understand there is beauty in an all consuming fire, don’t you?”

You pressed your thighs together as he lowered his voice, the question almost a whisper, and that was enough of an answer on your part. Your mind immediately stumbled into the gutter, the image of his scorching touch on your skin at the forefront, but you were hoping he didn’t notice the way you swallowed thickly at the thought.

He did.

“People try to keep innocent humans like you away from monsters like me, specifically to maintain that purity of yours,” he continued, attention shifting slightly as his fingers brushed over the golden title of the book from your desk. “But in doing so, they deny you a fundamental birthright that all humans have.”

You almost gasped when his eyes fell on you again. In the shadows, they almost seemed to be glowing, hypnotising you, calling for you to fall deeper into them until you got lost in him. Your breath caught in your throat the moment he spoke again, voice low and seemingly reverberating through your very soul, igniting a familiar warmth in your core.

“The right to pleasure.”

He pushed himself off the edge of the desk, taking slow steps until he was in front of you. You shifted, your legs neatly tucked under you as you watched him reach out his hand as an invitation.

“I’m here to help you reclaim that right, if you’ll let me.”

You looked at his hand, considering his offer. You thought back to all the nights when you had to go to sleep frustrated because you couldn’t satisfy yourself with just the thought of him and your hands, so it only took you a few seconds of hesitation before you reached out, placing your hand in his. Your lips parted slightly in wonder as you felt the warm tips of his fingers glide from your palm to your wrist, feeling your skin. You were suddenly overcome by the urge to touch more of him.

He looked at you, observing the way you gently brushed your fingers across his wrist and palm. From the touch, the fact that he was indeed real and not just a figment of your imagination sunk in even more.

“Can you stand up for me, dove?”

You complied as he gently pulled you up by your hand, stepping on the wooden floor and closing the distance between you enough that your bodies were almost touching.

Suddenly, a few feathers detached from his wings and flew around you, pressing softly into your back and pushing you into him. You gasped as the distance between you closed abruptly, looking around at the feathers in surprise at how something that looked so soft and lightweight could have that much strength. Your eyes met his again in a silent question, and he smiled.

“I can control each feather,” his voice was soft and his warm breath fanned over your lips as he spoke. You felt your neck and face warm up at the closeness and his smile turned smug. “They can also do this.”

Swiftly, a feather climbed up to your chest and hardened like a blade, slashing the string holding the collar of your nightgown together and letting the fabric loosen on your shoulders. You gasped and quickly grabbed it before it could slide down any further and reveal more of your chest. Shooting him an indignant look, you frowned when he laughed softly at your reaction.

“Don’t worry,” he said, voice low as his hands climbed up to your elbows then found your waist, gently rubbing your sides. “You won’t be needing this gown for long.”

His lips brushed yours tentatively, and when you didn’t pull away, he fully leaned in to kiss you softly. He gently guided you, making note of your reactions. You enjoyed the feeling, it was as relaxing as it was exciting, and you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him even closer. This only encouraged him to fully snake his arms around your waist, caressing your back and holding you flush against him. After a few seconds, he pulled away so you could both catch your breaths, before diving in again, this time allowing his tongue to carefully brush across your lower lip. You opened your mouth to grant him access and he deepened the kiss, tilting his head so he could caress your tongue with his.

Your breathing got heavier as the kiss went on, only becoming more fervent by the second. Your fingers dug into his shirt as you tried to follow and mirror his movements, but your mind was becoming foggy, hot blood surging through your veins and heating up your skin. Before you knew it, a small sound of enjoyment left your throat, one of your hands getting lost into his soft hair and the other holding onto his shoulder as if he would slip away at any moment.

Despite your desperate movements, he was in no rush, savouring your taste and each sharp breath you’d intake, each sound, each flutter of your eyelashes when you looked at him as he pulled away for air. How lucky to have a beauty such as yourself in his arms.

“Would you let me take this off?” He gently pulled at the fabric of your nightgown and you wondered for a second if he was just asking to be polite and give you the opportunity to refuse. You didn’t dwell on the thought, instead sliding the gown off your shoulders and letting it pool around your feet, shivering at the cool air touching your goosebump-covered skin. Maybe you should’ve felt shy being exposed in only your underwear, but something in the way his lust-filled eyes flickered with a certain warmth made you feel like you didn’t need to hide. Just as you imagined, his gaze wasn’t devouring in the way you were used to: having men look at you with an appetite one would attribute to mere prey. Beyond the hunger swirling in his amber eyes was a clear appreciation for you, as if he was the one honoured that you allowed him so close to you, closer than anyone before.

His gaze drifted across your body, taking you in much like an aesthete would take in a masterpiece, admiring every detail of your curves and edges, every flaw that made you real, until his eyes met yours again. He reached out and tucked a stray hair behind your ear, the act feeling a lot more intimate now that you were bare in front of him, his for the taking.

His hands found your waist again and he gently guided you backwards until the back of your legs touched the edge of the bed. You heard his whispered request for you to lie down and you followed, lowering yourself on the mattress so you were comfortably lounging on it, arms on either side of your head. He grasped one of your hands and brought it up to his lips, kissing your knuckles and moving upwards leisurely, kissing your wrist, the inside of your elbow, your upper arm, reaching your shoulder and making his way to your neck. You tried to mask a moan and your increasing nervousness with a laugh.

“You’re taking your time,” you noted, voice shaky.

He laughed shortly. “The night is young and I want to enjoy you for as long as I can.” He kissed your collarbone and moved to your other shoulder, his hands running up and down your sides. “I want to see, feel and taste every part of you.”

You gulped and before you could say anything else, his mouth moved to kiss your neck. His tongue darted out, licking your hot skin and nipping softly at it before moving lower and lower, eventually reaching your chest. He kissed and bit softly at the flesh until his lips closed around your nipple, licking and sucking gently, his hand gliding down your side to reach your thigh and press it closer to him. After a few seconds, he kissed his way to your other nipple, his tongue circling it and his other hand caressing your skin, moving upwards and kneading your chest. Your sighs of pleasure spurred him on, and with your hands combing through his messy hair, he continued lower, across your stomach, reaching your thighs and offering them the same affectionate treatment. The feeling of his hot tongue on your skin and the slight sting of his stubble contrasting it was gradually pulling you deeper into lust, your muscles tensing once his teeth gently grazed the flesh of your inner thigh before sinking in to leave a mark which he then soothed with a kiss. You were becoming restless, unconsciously tugging at his hair to urge him to give you what you really wanted, but he continued his torturously slow pace and deliberate touches, determined to get you to use your words to guide him.

“Hawks,” your whisper was almost desperate as he nipped at your skin.

The corner of his lips turned up at the sound of the nickname you had granted him. “Yes?”

The words you wanted to string together in an answer were there, locked away behind your shame and embarrassment. You were already almost fully naked in front of him and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to voice your desires for fear of what he might think. It was ridiculous, you thought — he was there for your pleasure, after all — but that didn’t ease your worry when you got all tongue tied trying to respond, to request something of him, to demand more. Your silence must’ve given away your hesitation, because he stilled his movements and raised his head slightly to look at you.

“You can tell me, I’m here for you. I’ll do anything you want me to.”

Anything. What a tempting word uttered by an even more tempting mouth. You knew exactly where you wanted it.

You brushed his hair back and softly tugged him forward, closer to your core. He got the hint and his sharp eyes narrowed, putting up a slight bit of resistance with a smug smile to see just how far you’d go.

“Hawks,” you repeated firmly, starting to get frustrated.

“Yes?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “I need your tongue on me.”

“I know.”

You had no time to be annoyed when two of his feathers detached from his wings to rip the last piece of cloth remaining between the two of you to shreds, finally revealing your dripping cunt to his hungry eyes. You would’ve closed your legs at the intensity of his gaze, had they not been kept spread wide open by a few more feathers so he could properly drink in the display. You thought you just imagined the wicked glint in his eyes when they flickered to your flustered face, but any doubt about it was soon wiped away when you felt yet another feather join the others by swiping across your heat, eliciting a gasp from you.

“You’ll have my tongue where you want it in due time.” He leaned back, supporting his weight with his arms, to stare at your whole body. “Until then, I’d like to enjoy this a little longer.”

You let out a soft moan at the sudden feeling of his feathers on your body. Their touch was firmer than you expected, and aided by how hot and sensitive your skin felt, each touch was more intense than the last. He concentrated the most movement against your clit and your nipples, listening to every sound you made, watching every reaction and minute change in your expression to properly adjust his speed and pressure. He tilted his head, eyes trained on you, but you couldn’t keep yours open from his intense scrutiny and from how your mind was slowly losing control, sinking into pleasure. Between blinks, as you were avoiding direct eye contact, you noticed the tent in his trousers and the fine sheen of sweat glinting in the moonlight across the part of his chest that was exposed. You noted how he was still fully dressed and for some reason, having him watch you like this, hypnotised, focused only on you, brought a shiver down your spine, goosebumps blooming across your skin as you threw your head back when he touched you just right.

“So gorgeous,” you heard him breathe out. “So good for me.”

Through the haze of your mind melting, you could only manage to let out a strangled laugh. “Shouldn’t I be doing something, too?”

He chuckled and sped up his feather’s movement against your clit, pushing it harder into you and occasionally teasing your soaking entrance. With a yelp, you reached down reflexively to stop it before two new feathers joined the fray and pinned your hands on either side of your body as you arched your back.

“You don’t need to do anything,” he said, voice low and dripping with desire. “Like I said, I’m here for you. Tonight is about you, so don’t hold back.”

“I-I don’t know…” you muttered. You didn’t have any plan on where to go with the sentence, a million thoughts rushing through your mind so fast they were melding together into a cacophony that was slowly being overtaken by the growing pleasure in the pit of your stomach. Your hips started to move on their own, walls clenching around nothing, and through your foggy vision you could see Hawks, his lips parted and chest raising and falling with each shaky breath he took. His pupils were blown wide, entranced by the way your body moved under his feathers. When they flickered upwards to look at your face, you let out a loud moan and he gripped the sheets at the sound, swallowing his saliva.

“You don’t need to know, you don’t need to think. You just need to feel.” His hand brushed against his thigh, travelling higher to palm at his erection. “Just do whatever comes naturally.”

Your heels dug into the mattress, fingers gripping the sheets beneath you and lips parting to let soft moans flow out of your throat at the feeling of his feathers running over your sensitive spots. The sound of his sighs of pleasure only pushed you further towards the edge, aching for release.

“I can feel it,” he said in a low, raspy voice, and your blurry vision shifted towards him with a questioning look. “My feathers. I can feel through them. I can feel how wet you are for me.”

He leaned forward, hands caressing the back of your thighs and taking the place of his feathers, keeping you spread for him as he stared at the one working on your clit. He lowered his head, retracting his feather and inhaling your intoxicating scent, heaving a shaky sigh across your bare skin which sent a chill down your spine. His tongue darted out and he gave you a soft lick with its tip, pulling a sound of surprise out of your chest before he pressed his tongue flat against your core and properly tasted you. A groan rumbled in his chest, reverberating on your heat as he fervently licked at your entrance, occasionally sucking on your clit. Your thighs shook, muscles tensing when the tip of his tongue pushed past your entrance to fuck you, his nose brushing against your clit.

“You taste so good,” his voice was muffled and breathy from between your legs. “A whole eternity I’ve been deprived of this, fuck. I can’t get enough of you, dove.”

The lewd sounds he was making as he fucked you with his tongue and tasted you like a man starved should’ve embarrassed you, but you were too far gone to care about anything but reaching your climax. Soon, your walls fluttered around his tongue, back arching as the tension in your stomach snapped, sending a tidal wave of pleasure across your body. You shivered in his arms and he groaned at your release, lapping up everything you had to offer him until the shaking in your muscles subsided.

As you were coming down from the clouds of euphoria, he opted for planting sweet, soothing kisses across your thighs. Once you calmed down enough to look at him, he smiled up at you.

“Was that good?” Still catching your breath, you could only nod at him. “I’m glad. Do you want to stop here?”

You were silent for a moment, weighing your options and their outcomes. You had been fantasising about this moment for so long it would be foolish to stop. Besides, his touch, his voice, the way he looked at you made you feel like refusal couldn’t be an option in any circumstance. Softly, you shook your head and his smile widened. You could’ve sworn his eyes shone just a little bit brighter in the moonlight.

His fingers brushed across your cheek. “I’m afraid you’ll have to tell me exactly how you’d like me to continue, then.”

You stammered, trying to find the right words to respond. You swallowed the lump in your throat that was locking away your voice and looked at Hawks, placing your now free hands on either side of his face to run your fingers across his cheeks.

“Hawks,” you spoke, gathering the confidence you needed to make your demand. This time, it was easier to find the right words, and you briefly wondered if his powers had something to do with how bold you were feeling. “I want you to fuck me.”

His wings fluttered from behind him as he licked his lip. “How vulgar,” he teased, mouth brushing against yours. “I really like it when you use your words, dove. Why don’t you keep letting me know how good I’m making you feel with that pretty voice of yours, hm?”

His fingers brushed against your cunt, rubbing your clit, and you gasped at the sensation. He closed the distance between you and kissed you passionately, his chest pressed against yours, the smooth fabric of his shirt rubbing on your sensitive nipples as you wrapped your arms around his neck to hold him close. You could taste yourself on his tongue and your head was spinning once again, hips jerking once he teased your entrance.

“So responsive,” he noted, not pulling away from your mouth. “Makes me want to see all of your reactions.”

One of his fingers slowly pushed inside you and you realised you were right: your fingers could never compare to his. He pumped slowly, teasingly, revelling in your kiss and the sounds he was pulling from you with each movement. He pushed another finger in as you attempted to move your hips in search for more friction, but his weight was holding you down and forcing you to accept the pace he set. You whined into his mouth and he chuckled, pulling away from the kiss slightly.

“Impatient, are we?”

“Please, Hawks!”

“Already begging and I haven’t even started. How greedy.” He leaned in and planted a kiss against your ear. “If you’re so pliant now when I’ve only gotten my fingers inside you, I wonder what you’ll do once I properly fuck you with my cock.” You let out a soft noise as your walls clenched around his fingers in anticipation. He groaned and cursed under his breath at the feeling. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Fot me to fuck you nice and deep, feed into that need you’ve been feeling for so long?”

He licked at your earlobe and left a sloppy kiss under your ear as you moaned. You gripped his shirt and pulled at it, desperate to feel his skin on yours. “Take it off, wanna feel you.”

He chuckled and you watched as a few feathers detached from his wings to help pull the shirt off of him, not even attempting to pull his hand away from your cunt. Instead, he slowly added one more finger to get you used to the stretch and you groaned as the slight sting soon turned into pleasure. You ran your hands over his abdomen, across his chest, rubbing his shoulders and eventually getting lost in his unruly hair, pulling him into another all-consuming kiss. His hot skin pressed against yours was driving you mad, the movement of his fingers in you was relaxed, just enough to have you on the brink of an orgasm but not letting you fall over the edge.

You whined again, out of breath. The sloppy sound of his fingers rubbing between your folds, the way he was occasionally curling them to reach your sweet spot and his low groans were sending you into a frenzy of irritation and arousal. You moved your hips again, hungry for more friction, and you detached your lips from his with a wet pop.

“Hawks, stop,” you breathed out, voice high with desire.

“Stop?” His movements stilled immediately, only for you to groan loudly and buck back into his fingers, digging your nails into his shoulder blades and leaving red marks on his skin. He bit his lip and smiled, knowing they’d soon be a reminder of your night together.

“You know that’s not what I meant!” your voice was exasperated as you felt your cunt pulse and clench, so close yet so far. “Stop teasing!”

The low chuckle vibrating in his chest made you shiver as he resumed his slow pace, your mouth opening in pleasure.

“I don’t think I’ll let this happen so easily. I love getting you all hot and bothered like this.” He grunted and fucked his fingers into you deeper, earning a sweet moan from you. He deliberately pulled all the way out from you before slowly pushing back inside to amplify the squelching sounds of your cunt. You felt your face burn in embarrassment. “Mm, do you hear that? Do you hear how wet you are for me? I bet I could slide right in.”

You finally gave in to your self-consciousness and covered your face with your hands, trying to hide away from him. He chuckled softly, finding your shyness adorable, and slowly moved your hands with his free one so he could give you a charming smile as he watched that cute expression of yours. He leaned his forehead against yours and pulled his fingers out of you, earning a soft whine of disapproval from you as he gripped your hips.

“Do you still want me to fuck you, pretty bird? Want me to make that ache of yours go away?” You felt the head of his cock rub against your entrance and you gasped. “I promise I’ll make you feel so good.”

You nodded quickly, too impatient and lost in pleasure to use your words, and he slowly pushed into you. A scream got caught in your throat at the stretch and he buried his face into your neck, groaning at how divine you felt around him. After a few shallow pumps in and out to get you accustomed with his intrusion, he finally bottomed out and let you catch your breath before he set a steady pace, raising his head to watch your face contort in pleasure and scanning for any sign of discomfort.

Your hands went to his back as you moaned, leaving a new set of scratches on his shoulder blades to which his wings fluttered. His chest was pressed into yours, allowing him to feel your frantic heartbeat. He felt so good inside you, filling you up and hitting all the right places which you never even hoped to reach. The new sensations were too much to bear, and soon you bit on his shoulder as you came around him hard, your walls clenching on his length. He groaned at the feeling and didn’t give you a single moment of respite , wrapping his arms around your legs and throwing them on his shoulders, pressing you deeper into the mattress as he continued his pace.

“C’mon, dove,” he rasped, his voice breathless and dripping with desire as he pressed his lips onto yours. “Can you hold on just a little longer? For me?”

Your mind and body were melting, jolts of electricity surging through your now tired muscles. Your blood felt like liquid fire as your heart pumped it through you in a frenzy, and from the amalgam of sensations you felt the gentle touch of one of his feathers on your clit. Your back arched and the room felt like it was either floating or simply disintegrating around you — you couldn’t even tell anymore. Your vision was a kaleidoscope of moonlight and crimson red, specks of golden light from his hair and spellbound eyes coming in and out of focus as your eyes fought to stay open. By the time you felt him release inside of you, filling you with warmth, you had already lost count of how many times you came, pleasure bubbling under your skin and reaching deep within the marrow of your bones like boiling magma under the earth.

Exhausted, you felt him rise from you, pulling out, and you frowned at the sudden feeling of emptiness he left behind, the cool air of the night now directly hitting your sweat covered body and making you shiver. He quickly pulled you into his arms and wrapped his wings around you to shield you from the cold, pressing his lips to the top of your head and muttering sweet praises through soft kisses.

He stood there for a few minutes until he was positive you were dozing off, then pulled up the covers to tuck you in, retreating from your arms. You frowned in your sleep and stirred, letting out a small groan which he shushed softly, caressing your hair in a reassuring manner. You heard him shuffle around your room and you were more than happy to just let him mind his own business. After all, you were far too tired to question his actions and just wanted to let yourself fall into a deep, relaxing slumber.

Hawks walked around the bed, watching as you finally settled into a comfortable position, your breathing back to its steady rhythm. His gaze shifted towards your desk once again and he couldn’t help but open one of the books. When he was met with sugary declarations of devotion and filthy love-making laid down onto paper in verses, their main focus being the myth describing him, he couldn’t help the smile that spread on his lips. Oh, sweet dove. Your yearning truly knew no bounds.

Silence surrounded you for what felt like a few minutes, broken only by the soft sounds of your breathing. You almost thought he had already left before you heard the shuffling of his feathers dragging on your floor as you fully gave into your exhaustion and fell asleep. He climbed on your windowsill, stopping for a moment before he looked back at your sleeping form over his shoulder, his wings obstructing the lower half of his face, allowing only his eyes to peek over, alight with warmth.

“Sleep well, dove,” he whispered one last time before light engulfed him and soon enough, he was just a ray of feathers and light growing distant in the night sky.

❈

You must have gone insane.

Basked in the late morning sun, you stared incredulously at the nightgown that was covering your body. Your hands went up for what was probably the third time to check the string was actually still intact and snugly tied across your chest. You pulled up the bottom of the gown, checking your underwear — untouched, not even a hint of a tear. And the parts where your skin should’ve been blooming with bruises from love bites were the same as they were the previous morning, blank. Like nothing ever happened.

Just what the hell were you dreaming?

You brought your face into your hands, screaming internally as the images from what you assumed happened last night, but now weren’t so sure anymore, kept flooding your mind. You bit your lip to stop a smile from showing, torn between the shame of having offered yourself so unabashedly to what was essentially a stranger and the excitement still buzzing beneath your skin at how incredibly good it felt. You slowly slid your hands over your arms and sides, following the searing trail his hands had danced across the night before. Every word and every touch felt too vivid not to tremble at the mere thought. You wondered if it was all really just a dream. And if it wasn’t, you wondered if he would come again.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by the familiar sound of Mirio’s voice calling for you at the front gate, offering warm greetings to whatever relative of yours was outside in the yard and explaining he came to pick you up for work. You scrambled to get ready, but as you stepped outside your house your movements were mechanical, going through the motions of your established routine. Mirio tried to start a light conversation with you, but you seemed lost in thought, distracted. He frowned slightly when it became obvious that you only registered around half of the words he was telling you, almost worried that something might have happened after he dropped you off at the library the night before. An apology settled on the tip of his tongue but he swallowed it back, opting to leave you be for the time being. You did seem to have just woken up recently, after all, hair still unruly and eyes half lidded with tiredness.

The rest of your day was a blur, thoughts centred on only one thing — only one person — ignoring the majority of small talk your fellow workers tried to initiate. You worked as if possessed, joined the masses as they left the field at the end of the day like a lost soul and rushed to your bedroom at night, grabbing your books and opening them, scanning the pages for the thousandth time. Still, it was not enough, so you laid back into your bed like all other nights, except this time you once again stared at the sky as you drifted off to sleep, calling for him.

And he once again descended for you.

You were insatiable, and his visits soon became a routine. During the day you sought him out through pages of poems and your own thoughts as you worked and worked, awaiting the time you’d finally return home to his embrace at night. He was willing to offer you whatever you demanded, letting you use him as you saw fit to explore and learn, to feel and consume, to defile and be defiled. A safe haven for all your fantasies to manifest.

You finally understood why all women were described as addicted to him in all the books you read. How could one not be? Even when you closed your eyes you could still see his warm expression, his sharp eyes staring into your soul, you could still feel the faint trace of his fingers on your skin and the sweet sting of pleasure and yearning between your legs where he spent most nights.

He began to see it, too. That sweet, sometimes teasing smile you’d turn towards the stars when you leaned on your windowsill, knowing he could see you. Your kisses and touches got bolder and more confident with each passing night. You should’ve been the one under his spell, and yet there he was, smiling dumbly at you and every expression of yours, every movement, every word.

He should’ve treaded more carefully.

How many nights had it been already? Ten? A hundred? A thousand? He didn’t keep count, a being cursed with eternity never does. And yet, he kept finding himself counting the seconds until he got to see you again in the dead of night. Days became agony, when in the past they’d used to pass in the blink of an eye, now they felt like the infinite void he was all too familiar with. He realised how deep he’d gotten himself when he spared a glance from the skies to check on you, quickly making a daily habit of observing you in your element, learning your routine and all the people you were close to. When he saw you next to Aizawa on yet another nightly walk to your home from the library, he couldn’t deny the pain that clutched at his heartstrings and pulled until he once again descended into your bedchamber at your call.

He could never deny you. He could never turn his back to your comforting touch, could never turn his face away from your sweet kisses, could never refuse to hold you until you fell asleep in his arms. You were too tempting, too sweet, too lovable to reject. Too unattainable. And he was too selfish.

After having spent so long mapping your body with his hands and lips like the atlas of heaven, his fantasies began evolving into more than just you chanting his name from under him as he claimed you yet again like the lustful beast he was. In the hours spent anticipating the time you’d beckon him again he liked to imagine you telling him about your day, about your happiness and sorrow, talking to him about your favourite books and all the characters that you loved, introducing him to all facets of your being that he couldn’t possibly have met while tangled in the sheets. He started to ask more personal questions at the outset of your encounters, to leave sweet notes attached to his feathers on your desk so you could wake up to them in the morning. He started craving more than just your body and your attention.

But he knew humans were creatures capable of finding boredom even in the most exciting of things once they became routine, and he couldn’t condemn you to an eternity of being by his side. After all, lust could only fuel your relationship so far before you’d crave stability and love. You deserved better than that, you deserved to be with a human that could make you happy, someone that could understand your wants and needs. Someone like Aizawa.

He watched with a frown as you opened the gate and bid farewell to Aizawa, who watched you until you were safely inside your home before he continued his walk back home. You looked exhausted once you called him to join you under the covers, immediately clinging onto him and burying your face in his neck, kissing and nipping at his skin. He wanted to tell you to stop and rest, but whenever he did so in the past you’d just ignore him or silence him with a kiss. He had to bite his tongue every time — he was there for you, after all. A tool like many others so you could relax and experience highs like never before.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t worried sick about you.

He knew what being exposed to him for so long could do to the human mind. He also knew you knew, with how much you had read about him. You were showing symptoms that people around you began to point out. Exhaustion, inability to focus for too long, lack of appetite. You were sick, but you didn’t care to notice it, not when your family called the village doctor to check on you, not when Mirio kept bringing you food at work each day with a worried expression, not when Aizawa banned you from being in the library after a certain hour so you wouldn’t collapse, not even when Hawks kept looking at you with a concerned frown whenever he’d enter your room and hesitating to even approach you.

Soon, hours melted away and you fell asleep in his arms after yet another night of being all over each other. He softly ran his fingers through your hair, massaging your scalp, and stared at the books on your desk with a cold expression.

History was just repeating itself.

He realised that if he doesn’t soon stop, he’d end up with a broken heart or worse, with you losing your mind. So he stood up and plucked one of his feathers to use as a quill, and sat at your desk to leave you one last note. A request of sorts, but more so a promise. He wanted to give you a choice before it was too late.

After he carefully laid down his words onto the paper, he stood up and spared you a glance, eyes shadowed by sadness. He turned towards your window and the floorboards creaked as he took flight into the night sky. His red feather remained on the desk, on top of his note, a confession weaved through verses of an oath he didn't have the heart to not take. At the end of the day, he may have been an eternal being superior to humans, but he was still weak, always crumbling at your feet. Always wanting more.

Endlessly, my love endures,

My soul, mind and body yours.

Your love a cure, your name a prayer

Soothing the curse I must bear.

Though I’m far, your presence lingers,

The gentle touch of your soft fingers,

The promise of your voice tomorrow

Lulling away all my sorrow.

Endlessly, our love endures,

My existence claimed as yours,

And may our stars align

I will come to claim what’s mine.

❈

“I wish to be rid of my eternity.”

“Spare me your asinine jokes, Keigo.”

Hawks frowned, raising his wings and fluttering them quick enough to close the distance between him and the imposing man sitting on a velvet chair at the far end of the hall they were in. The marble floors reflected the multicoloured light bleeding through the stained glass windows, making the chandelier held up by chains on the tall ceiling glint a stunning rainbow. The man, engulfed by flames, fixed Hawks with a cold, unimpressed look, his muscular arms crossed over his chest. Hawks simply mirrored his stare.

“Does it look like I’m just joking, Endeavour?”

“I can never tell when it comes to you.”

“As if,” he scoffed. “Don’t look at me like I’m merely a child throwing a tantrum. I know very well what I’m doing.”

“No, you don’t,” the man’s voice resounded through the hall. He stood up and snarled at Hawks, his eyes narrowing. “You’re a fool, you’re letting yourself get carried away by a mortal. Have you forgotten your purpose?”

“You mean my curse?”

Endeavour sighed, raising a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “Call it what you want. You still can’t deny that a being like you has no business walking among mortals. You know very well that our worlds are far too divergent to work out.”

“That’s for me to worry about. You just need to let me go.”

“You’re talking as if I want to keep you here,” he scrunched his nose. “Could use the peace and quiet of your absence, but we can’t all have what we want.”

“Then I’ll take my leave.”

He turned around and raised his wings again, ready to take off, before Endeavour’s voice rang behind him:

“And just what is your plan, Keigo? You know you can’t undo eternity. Turning you into a mortal is an impossible feat even for me.”

“That may be true, but the opposite isn’t.”

“So you’re just going to curse a human? Is that it?”

Hawks grit his teeth, his frown deepening. He dug his fingers in his palm. “I thought you called it a purpose.”

The flames burning across Endeavour’s body flared up. He glared at Hawks, completely done with the pointless back and forth they were having.

“And what will you do when her mind can’t comprehend it?” He took a step towards Hawks, letting his arms drop to his sides. “What will you do when she goes insane from the responsibility and suffering that comes with being immortal?”

Hawks’s shoulders slumped slightly and he looked down at the ground, towards the place where you most likely were, below the skies. Endeavour knew. He knew about you and your encounters, and he knew about Hawks’s infatuation with you. But the life of immortals was ruthless by default.

He had grown accustomed to Hawks's habit of frolicking amongst humans. He was aware of the way Hawks would cure his boredom and loneliness by joining mortals in their beds, often ending in heartbreak on one side or the other. The roles of spirits such as them were never enough of an excuse for how dreadful it was to roam the Earth in isolation until the end of time.

He took one more step towards Hawks, his tone still stern.

“Wouldn’t it be better for everyone if you just let her live her life next to another mortal? I’m sure she’d be happier.” Hawks narrowed his eyes. “Just give up, Keigo. Being with her is impossible, you already know this. She’s not the first mortal you fell in love with and she won’t be the last.”

Hawks turned towards Endeavour abruptly, his wings unfurling. With the way his pupils dilated and eyes widened, he looked almost predatory.

“That’s not for you to decide.”

Endeavour didn’t flinch and continued to look at Hawks with the same unfazed glare. Even as he turned back around and spread his wings, taking flight as a beam of light onto the sky and disappearing like lightning, he didn’t stop him. Nothing could.

Nothing except you.

But you were unaware of what Hawks was thinking, none the wiser even after reading his note over and over again. At first you found it sweet, romantic, a slight shiver finding its way down your spine from how delighted you were at his confession. His notes were always sweet, but they were always focused on compliments towards you, rarely ever hinting at how he felt.

But once he stopped visiting you the day he left that note, you began to look at it differently. Perhaps you overstepped? Was your lust so powerful that even a roving spirit known for indulging in carnal sins got overwhelmed? Maybe he got bored of you and all your fantasies. Maybe you didn’t satisfy him the way he did for you. But then why leave a note basically offering himself to you? You didn’t understand and it frustrated you.

You found yourself spending more time at the library, avoiding Aizawa so he wouldn’t immediately tell you to go home and rest. You tried to read and reread any books you could find about the myth of The Flyer, anything that would tell you how his encounters with humans would end. You already knew that all humans visited by the spirit would seek help in banishing him from someone with expertise in the paranormal before they were consumed by insanity, but nothing was ever said about the spirit leaving on his own accord.

Were you really that off-putting?

You shook your head, clearing your mind of your insecurities and stood up to leave the library empty handed and with more questions than answers.

It had already been three weeks since Hawks stopped visiting you and you were starting to feel the coldness of your bed creep into your heart as well. The notes he left were all carefully kept in a notebook that you often opened whenever your longing for his presence got too unbearable. You were going through phases, at first you were confused, then you spent a few nights crying yourself to sleep at how he suddenly disappeared. You experienced anger, going up on a quiet hill in the dead of night to shout your frustrations to the skies, hoping he was still there, still watching over you. Your symptoms were supposed to be getting better after not interacting with him for so long, but instead they just progressively got worse. Your energy was constantly drained and you had no power to even pretend to be okay anymore. The one figment of a fictional world that you were able to experience and now he was gone, like a simple mirage in a desert that disappears once you get too close, leaving you to live a boring, unfulfilling life once again.

You realised this was more than just the thrill of having a supernatural creature want you when you found yourself missing his embrace after a particularly bad nightmare. You didn’t care about your physical desires anymore, they were extinguished to mere dying embers when you reached the conclusion that he may never come back. The ache in your core was quickly replaced by the ache in your heart and the jarring realisation that you were in love.

You missed him. His smile, his voice, his curious questions about your mundane life, his embrace, his warm eyes…

So you found yourself back at the top of the hill in the middle of the night when everyone else was sleeping, staring at the sky with a slight frown in your brow and biting softly on your lip. You paced around, unsure of how to start and what to say.

After a few moments, you stopped in your tracks and let out a heavy sigh. “Hawks… if you’re out there, I won’t ask you to come back. I’m just asking you to listen.” You looked down at your hands, your fingers intertwining in a nervous gesture before you looked back up at the stars. “I’m sorry if I did or said anything wrong. My intention wasn’t to push you away. It never was. I just…” A tear threatened to spill from your lashes as your voice cracked. You quickly composed yourself. “I just miss you. And I don’t mean your body or what we did together. I miss you. And if I never get to see you again, I just need you to know that… I love you. No matter how foolish or insane I sound for saying this, I have to get it off my chest. Even if I know you won’t ever feel the same.”

A light suddenly shone from the sky, reaching in front of you in less than a second like a thunderbolt. You flinched back and shielded your eyes from the brightness, slowly opening them and widening them at the sight before you.

Hawks was standing there, the same concerned look he had in the previous nights he visited you plastered on his face, pulling his brows in a frown. And yet, his eyes were kind, warm, looking at you with the kind of affection one grants the person they missed the most. You mindlessly took a few hurried steps towards him and he met you halfway with open arms, catching you and holding you close to him as you both wrapped your arms around each other. You clutched his shoulders, fingers digging into his shirt as if he would disappear the moment your hold on him were to waver.

“I’m sorry, dove,” his voice was soft, quiet enough for only you to hear. “I can’t do this to you.”

“What?”

Confused, you tried to pull back but his hand kept your head pressed against his shoulder. He couldn’t look you in the eyes without breaking, so he chose to avoid your gaze instead.

“I can’t keep doing this to you, it’s too dangerous. Eventually it’ll wear you out. You’ve seen the signs, you know the effect a creature like me has on a human,” his voice shook as he took in a breath. “If anything happens to you because of me, I might go mad. I would never forgive myself. We have to stop meeting like this. We have to stop.”

Your lip trembled and you gripped the fabric of his shirt tighter, wrinkling it between your fingers. His hold on you tightened ever so slightly when he felt that.

“You’re not even going to acknowledge what I just said?”

It was his turn to be confused. This time he didn’t stop you when you pulled away. Your glossy eyes and defeated expression pulled at his heartstrings and he had to resist the urge to kiss your sadness away.

You spoke up again, your voice shaky, “I said I love you. I love you, Hawks, I…” you trailed off, your eyes searching his for any hope to cling onto. “This is more than just lust for me and I don’t care if it ruins me because the alternative is a million times worse.”

“Dove-”

“One night,” you quickly cut him off. “One more night is all I ask for. We don’t have to do anything, I just need you here with me.” You leaned your forehead against his and ran your fingers through the soft tufts of hair at the back of his head. He visibly gulped. “Please, stay with me.”

Any shred of self control and willpower dissolved the moment those whispered words left your sweet lips. He closed the gap between you and kissed you with hunger and desperation, pulling you so flush against him that it seemed he wanted to become one with you, to burrow in your bones and spend the rest of his eternity within your heart.

He started muttering between kisses, each heated peck accentuated by declarations of “I love you”, “I don’t deserve you”, “I don’t want to hurt you”, “I’m scared.” He was pouring his vulnerability into your lungs with each stroke of his tongue, each hot breath mingling with yours, each caress of his hand on your back, and you gently cradled his face in your hands, urging him to slow down and pull away so you could look at him.

“I’m not scared,” you said softly, rubbing your thumbs on his cheeks soothingly. You smiled at him. “As long as I’m with you, I’m not scared of anything.”

He looked at you like you were a deity showing itself to a sinner to offer mercy, holding you like you were a treasure, his entire world. Of all humans he had met and laid with, you were the only one who didn’t turn away in disgust and fear after a while. The only one who leaned into his touch and didn’t think of him as a filthy beast that eats hearts for breakfast before throwing the humans away like used tools. The only one who didn’t run the opposite way and banished him so they could be free of his temptations and instead love other mortals like them.

The only one who ever returned his feelings.

He leaned in once again, kissing you like a promise, a vow of his love for you. He was desperate, pulling at your clothes, his forcefulness enough to have you lose your footing until he gently lowered you on the dewy grass, pulling away so he could look into your beautiful eyes again.

“Swear yourself to me,” he requested, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I know a monster like me has no right to ask an angel like you this, but I'm all yours and I want you to be mine. Please, I need to know you want this.”

“Hawks-”

“Keigo,” he corrected. “My name… My real name is Keigo.”

You smiled sweetly. “Keigo.” God, he could’ve combusted right there from how good his name sounded on your tongue. You grabbed his chin gently and ran your thumb over his lower lip. “I was sworn to you the moment you stepped into my room.”

In an instant his lips were back on yours, taking your breath away. The passion coursing through both of you was no longer simply carnal, there was something more in the way you were running your hands over each other, something akin to a silent vow of loyalty, a reassurance that you both felt the same.

His wings spread, shielding you from the view of the stars as his hands slowly ran under your clothes to find your skin. You undressed each other with slight urgency, leaving your clothes on the soft grass aimlessly. His hands slid up your stomach and cupped your breasts, softly kneading them and rubbing your nipples with his thumbs.

You let out a moan and ran your hands over his arms, to his shoulders and down his back, rubbing at the base of his wings. He shivered under your touch and left a trail of wet hot kisses from the corner of your mouth to your neck, where he gently bit the soft skin to leave a mark before running his tongue over it to soothe the pain. Your intoxicating scent kept pulling him deeper under your spell, his hands now roaming all over your body, reaching your thighs and holding them up against his hips.

“Tell me what you want, dove,” he said, raising his head slightly to look at you.

“Just you,” you responded. “I don’t want to wait tonight. I just need to feel you.”

“Anything you want.”

His hand slid up your thigh and dipped between your legs, finding your clit and pressing down on it with his fingers to rub soft circles onto it. You whined and bucked your hips, trying to urge him to stop stalling and just fuck you properly, but he peppered loving kisses on your face to calm you down, softly saying that he wants you to be ready for him. Once he was satisfied with how wet you got, he grabbed his cock and pumped it a few times, spreading his precum on his length before rubbing the tip at your entrance. He pressed his lips onto yours again in a loving kiss just as he pushed into you slowly. You moaned into his mouth and kissed him back, hugging him close to your body.

He set a slow, sensual pace that had you seeing stars even as he blocked your view of the night sky with his wings. He’d been inside you many times, but even while experiencing intense highs in his arms, it never felt quite this loving, this safe, this intimate. You were holding each other like you were going to vanish at any second, like you were each other’s lifelines, your eyes closed in bliss as you focused on each thrust of his into your cunt.

“Look at me,” you heard him demand breathlessly.

You opened your eyes and stared into his amber ones, burning bright just for you in the fires of love and passion. A feather came to wrap around your ring finger snugly and you couldn’t help but chuckle at the action, his lips tugging into an amused smile in response. He gave you one more kiss before he sped up his pace. Your lips parted to let out a moan as he started hitting that sweet spot inside of you, groaning at how you squeezed around him.

“All these years,” he panted through each thrust, voice low and heavy with desire, “these centuries, away from you… I never realised how agonising they were until I met you.”

You moaned his name, a sweet sound that he echoed with a whine when your walls clenched. The way he was looking at you, transfixed and affectionate, was a stark contrast to the obscene sounds your bodies were making as they connected.

You combed your fingers through his hair and pulled him closer, lips crashing against each other in a devouring kiss. You slid your tongue into his mouth and revelled in the way his hips stuttered for a moment as a shiver ran through him. A gasp left you suddenly when you felt a feather of his on your clit, rubbing circles as his hand travelled your curves in paths he’d grown to know by heart.

He stood up straight, much to your displeasure, to properly watch your expressions morph. He lifted one of your legs over his shoulder to deepen the angle of his thrusts, leaving sloppy kisses on it as your breath got caught in your throat. You felt your stomach flutter with butterflies at his affectionate pecks, before dropping as the coil in it tightened, signalling that you were close to your release. You threw your head back and didn’t even bother to find the words to tell Keigo you were approaching the edge. Not like you needed to, anyway. He could tell by how your muscles tensed and how your walls pulsed around him, pulling him in and under your spell.

His wings shook, feathers ruffling like leaves in the wind, and he leaned in, letting your leg drop off his shoulder so you could wrap them both around his waist.. His lips grazed yours, heavy breaths melding together as he pressed his forehead into yours.

“Come with me,” he breathlessly demanded, and even through the haze of your scorching bodies pressing against each other, you recognised the vulnerability in his voice. You understood the real meaning of his words hidden in a phrase he often whispered to you at the height of pleasure — join me in eternity.

You were ready.

You closed the gap between the two of you, a wordless affirmation to his request, and held him as your body shook, back arching and pressing your chest into his as you soared through your orgasm. Your vision blurred, and for a second you felt as if your soul was leaving your body from the intensity. The only sounds reaching your ears were your moans and him chanting your name like a prayer.

He was not far behind, only lasting for a few more pumps into your sweet cunt before tripping over the edge, groaning in a hungry kiss whilst waves of pleasure crashed over him and made goosebumps bloom on his skin. He emptied himself inside you and you felt how his cum and your arousal were dripping out of you with each lazy pump he gave as you both rode out your orgasms. Eventually, he gently lowered his body fully on yours, still inside you, and pressed his head on your chest to listen to your fluttering heart while you both tried to catch your breaths.

He felt you kiss the top of his head sweetly as you held him close.. He grabbed your hand, gently caressing it and staring at his feather still wrapped around your ring finger. He smiled, bringing your hand to his lips for a kiss.

“Can we stay like this for a while?” you asked, gently combing your fingers through his soft locks. He melted in your embrace.

“We can stay like this forever if you want to.”

You smiled. “I like the sound of that.”

You closed your eyes, relishing the feel of his warmth against you, listening to his soft, calming breaths. You felt like you were in heaven, finally happy that you were back in his arms with the promise of remaining so for many years to come. You were sure that everything would be okay as long as you were together with Keigo, the man you had come to love, the man who couldn’t wait to spoil you and shower you in his affection now that he had no reason to hold back. You were ready to spend the rest of your eternity beside him.

Right where you belong.

❈

My dove, with dawn fast approaching

So are you my thoughts encroaching,

For when dusk returns in place

So will I to your embrace.

When I do, kiss me, and then

Watch me fall for you again.

When you called upon my name

You promised my heart to tame.

All I do, your love commands.

All I am is in your hands.

And likewise, my crimson feather

Promises we’ll be together

When our stars align once more.

Together, forevermore.

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