the best part of believe
“The best part of ‘believe’ is the ‘lie’.
I hope you sing along and you steal a line.
I need to keep you like this in my mind.
So give in or just give up.”
- SOPHOMORE SLUMP OR COMEBACK OF THE YEAR, FROM UNDER THE CORK TREE
You know, I was gonna put out my first full length fic and have it be one of the many very healthy and not dark smut pieces I've been working on. I really was. But then @katsupeach let me be in her Fall Out Boy collab and the emo in me thought "debut with a dark content yandere hawks piece do it you punk" so I did👀 Anyway, enjoy. If I'm "more than you bargained for yet" with this dark content, pls note that most my upcoming work will be fluffy as a bunny js.
Pairing: League!Hawks x Ex Girlfriend!Reader, slight Shouto x reader
AU: Reader and Shouto are teachers at the same hero school. Hawks even more willing to play with the bad guys than usual.
Summary: You and Hawks had a beautiful, long-term relationship until you found out about his involvement with The League of Villains. Leaving him felt like an ethical obligation, since he’d been deceitful to both you and his country. You still love him, but you’ll move on eventually-- right? Not on Hawks' watch.
WC: NSFW explicit sexual content, dark content, slight dubcon, breeding kink, stalking, yandere hawks, possessive language, manipulative behavior and gaslighting, toxic treatment of an ex, stalking of an ex, dumbification, impact play, slight mentions of childhood abuse if you squint, casual cussing and use of sexually explicit words and imagery, reader wears a dress out on date night, reader’s hair is at some length capable of falling in their face a little lol, Hawks having canon nicknames for you but not so canon yandere behavior since everyone thinks he’s a lil coward boy (which I don't fully disagree with btw I just have a strong hc on how he got capable of his behavior here feel free to ask me hehe,) I really don’t know if I missed something I am very sorry please let me know and I’ll add it
“Thank you for tonight. I really enjoyed myself.” Admittedly, you weren’t too sure you would. Dating is such a weird and vulnerable hassle. After your semi-recent breakup, you dreaded “getting yourself back out there” and what came with that. Shouto showed you a lovely time tonight, though, the perfect gentleman (even if it did still feel a bit strange to be out with anyone but Hawks.) You’re trying not to think of your ex, to compare the calm, cool tones of Shouto’s voice and eyes to the warm, consuming amber hues you were used to. You can get warmth from new things, right? Like the rice wine with dinner and the softness of Shouto’s company as he walks you up to your door.
“I’m very glad. That was the goal,” he smiles like a total prince.
“To enjoy ourselves?” you chirp brightly, head tilted toward him.
“For you to enjoy yourself,” he clarifies, then a little quieter, “I knew that I would.”
The complement doesn’t elude you and you offer a close-mouthed smile in response. Are you being too formal? Is he being too formal? It’s been so long since you’ve done this.
“The sunset is beautiful tonight,” you sigh, having reached your apartment door. The two of you stand slightly huddled under your small excuse for an awning. “I’d say it’s the prettiest thing I’ve seen all week had I not just watched you react to good soba.”
“Oh, well,” he chuckles softly, “I think the sun still wins.” You might even say he looks bashful. No, he definitely does. With your feet nearly toe to toe, you notice how silly your converse look next to his leather dress shoes.
“No, really,” you insist, “I’ve never seen you smile like that before, Shou,” appreciating the full blush in his cheeks now, “It looked--real.” Once it leaves your mouth you worry you may have overstepped, but he doesn’t seem too surprised by the statement. You don’t know how much he enjoys your bravery, your honest statements.
“Wasn’t really the soba.” Oh. Two differently colored eyes hold yours: the gray of autumn’s leaf-littered ground, and the crisp blue of this coming winter. He really is pretty, you finally let yourself think, so pretty. He reaches out for your face, slowly, brushing your cold cheek with the pad of his thumb.
“May I?” he asks in the most polite tone, a tone you’d likely expect from him even as a lover. There’s a hint of something else there too maybe, but you’re not sure.
“Yes,” you whisper, pretending you didn’t debate it; that you hadn’t had to talk yourself into the possibility of a kiss before you even left for the night.
He leans forward, sliding his hand to the side of your face so he can put his lips where his thumb had been. He kisses you there, softly.
“Goodnight, y/n.” He says after pulling away.
“Goodnight, Shouto.” You smile nervously, unconsciously tucking your bottom lip between your teeth. He thinks about reaching back out, to pull your lip free with his thumb and kiss you again, harder this time. Shouto is a very patient man, however, a type you’re quite unaccustomed to. So, he doesn’t. And you’re none the wiser that he’d have liked to, that he’s capable of passion.
“I’ll see you at school Monday,” you offer to your coworker and Friday night date.
“Bright and early.” He checks to see that your keys are in-hand, and since you’re practically safely inside, turns to leave. Should you have invited him for a nightcap? Would he have wanted to stay? He’s such a busy, important man, you hesitate to take any more of his time than he’s already given to you. You watch Shouto walk away with his hands in the pockets of his sleek, dress pants, wondering how such a classy person, such a fine, quiet man could be interested in the messy, vibrant likes of you.
Hawks waits until you’ve shut the door behind you, locked it, and dropped your keys in the rack. He wants Todoroki gone by the time you scream. Plus, after eavesdropping on the two of you, he needs the moment to collect himself. Wings twitching with the desire to pursue Shouto down the alley he left by. He’s not going to do that, though. He won’t let you gauge his volatile thoughts on the matter, not yet. He’ll need to pull you in first.
“See,--” he starts up from out of view, his presence not yet noticed.
“AHH!” you’re terrified, spinning on your heels for a weapon. Grab anything. The lamp by the couch. Then you see him, immediately gasping in relief. “Keigo. Fuck.” He’s just sitting there, every gorgeous inch of him at the kitchen table for two, drinking out of a coffee mug which was once mainly his.
“You scared the shit out of me,” you attempt to regain your breath, hunched over with a hand on your gut, “You can’t-- you can’t just be here...” he stares at you, clearly unmoved by this statement, “uninvited in my apartment--”
“Our apartment,” he interjects.
“Not anymore, Hawks.” It occurs to you to straighten yourself out from your crumpled state. Looking at your ex boyfriend for the first time in weeks, and him looking back like nothing’s changed, like he has every right to show up.
Hawks picks up where he left off. “See, I knew you’d use that keyrack once I hung it. Real convenient on the wall, right?” You’re silent. “And you said we didn’t need it….” he shakes his head softly, golden hair moving in waves across his smug face. This is what drove you crazy about him: acting like he hasn’t a care in the world while shocking you like this, a king in his little reclaimed kitchen. The pain he’s harboring or not harboring over the breakup is left for you to speculate, even while he sits in front of you, because Hawks can hide anything.
“Did you break into my apartment to condescend to me about the key rack?”
Resting his head on one hand and leaning forward to really look at you, he smiles warmly. Despite yourself, you feel hostility softening like frozen ground under a dearly-missed sun. “And you,” you admit more softly, “you really scared me.”
And now, realizing he knows about your date night, sparks a new fear. If he was here the whole time, with his hearing? He knows everything: from the words exchanged at the door to the kiss. The sweet smile he’s shining masks a certain anger, you’re sure, drips a false honey which makes your stomach turn.
“I’m sorry, baby.” You frown at the pet name. “Knew if I surprised yah, I’d get to hear my name,” he taps his fingers on the table. “Been calling me Hawks like you don’t know me.” He sounds sad.
You roll your eyes. These days you wonder if you did, actually know him. “Manipulative as ever, I see.” Arms folding protectively over your chest, eyes looking anywhere but him.
“Ouch! Dove, I’m hurt.” He feigns pain with a hand to his chest, noticing how your posture draws attention to the neckline of your dress, your slightly pushed up breasts, your soft neck. Of course, it doesn’t seem like he’s staring. Can’t catch those eyes in anything they don’t mean to disclose. Situations like these make his mutant quirk exponentially blatant. He’s jealous-- so you know his senses were heightened, intentions set, offenses prepared the moment he stepped foot in your apartment. How did he even find out about the date?
“Nothing to be scared of, anyway,” appearing before you in little to no time, “I’d never let anyone hurt you.” He moves with a grace and quickness no wingless man could achieve, towering over you in his full hero gear. His close proximity is unwelcome, not that he cares.
“Hawks--” your tone has teeth, but he continues. “Would say I’d never let anyone lay a hand on you,” he tilts your face up to his with two fingers under your chin, “but I just did, didn’t I?” You look up and he’s almost solemn, the faintest hint of a grin burning out from where it lingered at one edge of his mouth. Trouble. You step back, he follows, pressuring you against the wall. “Did you have a nice soba date?” It’s laced with a small growl that makes your knees weak. A little scared and a little aroused, having him so close to you after weeks of his absence is intoxicating. You have to get, get--
“Out, Hawks,” you manage. “Get out.”
“Baby,” he protests, leaning his head into your neck. You feel the fur of his coat collar underneath your jaw. “I’m tired. Did my best today. Saved as many as I could,” the heat of his breath on your neck is tantalizing, the sound of his voice, “and I’m spent. I can’t sleep without you.” Fuck, you think, stop talking. You should push him away, but you don’t. Your hands fist into balls at your sides, your whole body tensing. Don't touch him back. “For weeks” he whines, “no you.” You feel his nose on your neck. “No you, meeting me at the door with a kiss.” Feather soft, he kisses your neck, and you gasp. “No you, running a bath for your sore, overworked hero,” his hands touch your waist, testing the waters, “washing my hair while you sit there with me--inside you.” He nudges his hips into yours and oh god, the pressure.
“Hawks--” you try, but it comes out so much sweeter than you had intended.
“Let me be here,” he whispers into your neck, “Let me come home.”
Home? It jostles something in you, enough to push him off your body. Your laugh sounds cynical, pained, nothing like you. Kiego is shocked, impressed even, as he watches you evade his temptations. You need to think straight, to distance yourself from him, so you head for the kitchen.
“This can’t be your home anymore. You lied to me.” There it was. The conversation he’d anticipated. You start washing the dirty dishes in the sink while you talk, a stress habit he recognizes well. He takes his coat off and lays it on the couch like you didn't just tell him to leave.
“Anywhere you are is my home.” You snort, unconvinced. “And I didn’t lie to you, just hadn’t told you yet.” You grip the edge of the sink, leaning over it in clear exasperation.
“Really, Kiego? That’s lying! You’re an adult. You know how dishonesty works, how relationships work. Don’t stand there--”
“I--” he cuts in, but you speak over him. He doesn’t get to interrupt you this time. “Shut up.” Oh? Keigo thinks. “Do NOT stand there and lie to me again…” He’s never seen you like this. “ever again,” you add. You’re nearly shaking. Shaking with what, Hawks wonders, purely anger? Exhaustion? Self control? “Like you don’t know what you did wrong, the damage your secret life did to us, to me,” you choke. Oh, baby, he frowns as you start to spiral. The pain in your voice is hurting him. “‘You knew,” your voice cracks, your heart buckles, “that you were my home too. And you still lied to me, about--” he’s moving from the living room to the kitchen, cautiously closing the distance to comfort you, “about who you are, w-what you stand for.” Wrong, he thinks.
“I knew you’d panic,” he wraps his arms around you and you don’t fight when he lifts you onto the kitchen counter, standing between your legs. “When you found out, I knew you wouldn’t hear me,” he brushes a tear from your face, resisting a primal, aves urge to fully groom and treat your pain. “And actually, Dove, I don’t know how relationships work.” You listen now, eyes big and watery when you stare up at him. He wants to kiss you. He wants to take you right now on the counter. “Because,” he presses a hand to the side of your face, you’re the first and last once I’ve ever cared to have,” you’re crumbling internally, “I don’t love anyone the way I love you. And I won’t.”
“You’ll have to” you mutter, but it’s weak, and he can feel the flush of heat to your cheeks.
“I won't. '' he says with more finality. “I never lied to you about who I am,” he tries, but you turn away again. “We’ve had those conversations. You agree. Things need to change, to get better.” He’s referencing the many nights you spent talking about the world, the things that need improvement at your hero school, the systematic errors. In the poor, fluorescent light of the kitchen, your profile is still breathtaking to Hawks. He loves how you look when you’re thinking hard about something.
“You think those goonies are going to change the system?” Goonies, he thinks, adorable. You’re quite upset again. “They’re ridiculous, Keigo! And they do things,” hush and hesitant now, almost secretive, “they--they kill people.”
“Heroes kill people! All the time, y/n, and you know that.”
“I mean, yeah, but that’s…” stopping yourself at the realization of your next words.
“Different?” he challenges, “Is it?” You feel kind of nauseous. If he’s still fighting for positive change-- is it? His hands leave your hips to rub comforting circles into your thighs with his thumbs.
“You washed someone else’s blood from my clothes all the time, but when it’s not a hero costume, you’re against it?” You sigh, not really knowing what’s right, what to believe anymore. His fingers play with the hem of your dress, fidgeting with it before tutting at you. “Little revealing for a first date, teach.” You giggle, a brighter sound. The dress has obviously hiked up considerably from how he has you sitting. You shouldn’t let his hands wander. You really shouldn’t, but he feels so--him.
“You never had an issue with my wardrobe before,” you quip.
“They weren’t gawking before.” Not with me around. You watch his face change, distracted by something. Giving your thighs a squeeze, he steps away to the sink, wetting a dishrag with tap water. You’re too exhausted and confused by his actions to consider using the moment to jump down. Returning quickly, he holds your face with one hand, wrapping an arm around your waist. You feel warm water dampen your skin as he wipes the dishrag across the span of your cheek.
You give him a curious look.
“Needed his scent off you.” You’d almost forgotten.
“Shouto?” Keigo’s muscles tense. “He barely kissed me.”
You notice a ruffled, anxious movement in his wings before he raises them and wraps his other arm around you. You gasp, shocked at the sudden encompassing.
“I know. And it reeked.” The growl is clear as day, no laced undertone.
Your head is spinning, heat blooming in your stomach. Tucked inside the intimate cover of his wingspan, just the two of you, in the sudden dark and heat. If he wasn’t so focused on thoughts of Shouto maybe he’d have seen the way you were looking at him, like a vulnerability about to roll over, like a lover.
The sharply drawn corners of his eyes intensify the suspicious look in them. But the frown pulls itself into a smirk and he says, “Might tell his Daddy I didn’t take too kindly to it.” Kiego and that strange professional, almost personal relationship he’s always had with Todoroki Enji. You never knew how to feel about it in the past, but now you detest it. You’ve spent enough time with Shouto to gauge that his father wasn’t great to him, isn’t someone he respects.
“You will not, Hawks!” you swat at him, hitting a solid mass of man under his hero suit. The way you’re looking at him with saucered, frantic eyes, the scolding in your tone. God, he’s missed that. That’s his to hear. Your ever-shocked disapproval of his reckless behavior, chastising him like a good little teacher, a good little wife. It’s so adorable when you think you can tell him what to do.
“Baby bird, don’t hurt yourself,” taking your hand in his and placing them on your heart, nestling his forehead against yours. “Remember who you’re speaking to.” It’s too much right now, in this space. The love and arousal and pain between you; the breath on your face; what small amount of light his wings let in; everything, so warm and red and beating, so still alive. Don’t whimper. Let go of his hand. You notice he’s been talking again.“Remember what I did to that drunk rat on our anniversary, when we went out?” You shiver. “And all he did was touch your arm....” You do remember. There’s no forgetting that kind of sound. The look of pain on that man’s face, like a mouse caught in a trap.
“You were defending me then. This is different.” You move your forehead from Keigo’s. “Shou wasn’t, his touch wasn’t unwelcome.”
His wings drop. “Enough about Enji’s kid--”
“He has a name!” you retaliate, “and he’s not a kid, he’s my ag--”
“I said enough.” Met with an expression you can’t hold to, you quiet. The coming defeat you feel in the air is imminent. You try squirming away, off the counter. Any effort just presses you more into his front. And when he grabs your hips to stop you, firmly with both hands, you nearly moan at the feeling, at being in his hold again in so many ways at once. The anticipation in your stomach is delicious, despite yourself. “He’s irrelevant, anyway. You don’t want him.” Rude. He’s got some nerve. You grunt lightly, struggling in your movements.
“You don’t know that!”
“But I do, though, chickadee.” You stop your pointless attempts at escaping, clearly not getting anywhere. “I’d recognize that scent anywhere” Huh? you think “When you want someone.” Oh my god. He just said that. From so many yards away, though? No, he couldn’t. He’s deranged. He couldn’t know how you felt about Shouto, earlier. You didn’t even know how you felt about Shouto. But shit, you know how you feel right now. Your ex boyfriend’s ever-gracious ministrations keep you in place, helping you stay pressed against him on the edge of the kitchen counter. “Driving me insane as we speak actually, how wet you are. Can almost taste you.” You let out the prettiest noise. It couldn’t be helped, shocked and weak at the way he’ll just say such things. He loosens his grip on you to move a hand to your thigh, nudging your dress up an inch, another inch….
“That’s not fair, Hawks.” You bite your lip. He watches your every move, your eyes as they hood with desire. His fingers creep upward, so softly, careful not to scare you into flight again.
“Why,” he laughs, “because you can’t hide it from me? There’s no need to.” His wings flutter up, encompassing you two again. You sigh, annoyance and pleasure blurring. “Just give up the charade, Dove,” he coos. “‘m getting real tired of missin’ yah.”
“What kind of apology--” He presses his palm over your soaked panties. “hn, is that?” you murmur. You sound far away, head tilting to the side, not too concerned about an answer. You feel feathers tickle your back as you arch your spine at the pressure. In front of you, behind you: if you move, he’ll be there. He rubs his nose gently along yours, slipping your panties to one side.
“I’m yours” pushing the tip of his finger in, “and you’re mine.”
“Fu--,” you mewl. He moves slowly, too slowly, until “Ah!” filling you to the hilt of his finger.
“And you can tell Enji’s kid that I said that” he adds, crudely. Before you can retaliate he’s moving, pumping in and out of you so nicely, sweetly in contrast to his jealous tone. The control, the compartmentalization this man is capable of is... amazing, frightening. Japan’s precious starboy, master actor, tainted hero, righteous villain. Your lover, your liar, your man. His teeth graze the cusp of your ear and you’re lost in pleasure, grinding into his palm for, “More.” You throw your head back slightly and he takes this as an invitation, kissing at your neck. If it wasn’t for the support of his wings at your back, you might fall. Hawks considers your plea. While there’s nothing he wants more than “more,” to flaten your back on this counter and fuck the past few weeks out of you, he came here on a mission, and he’ll finish that. “I’m still me, baby,” he sighs, “but I want better…you see that now?” You just whine. “Want a better world to keep you safe in;” he watches you start to move in time with him, fucking yourself on his finger, but it’s not enough anymore, “for the little ones you teach to grow up in;” he finally adds another finger and you moan, dropping your head onto his shoulder, “for ours to grow up in. Okay?” Yes, you think, docile in the glorious stretch of his fingers,
“Ok-” Wait. What? Your brain is muddled. “O-ours? We don’t--”
“I know you want kids, honey.” You’re reeling from the added stimulation. “We talked about it, remember?” You had. You had, but that was before. That was when you trusted him.
“But, I-- hnn,” you mewl, “won’t. Won’t have yours, anymore.” The movement of his fingers stutters, then slows. You feel desperate, dangling off a cliff. He lifts your head and he’s, he looks like someone else.
“Now now, Dove,” His demeanor is chilling. “I am always patient with you. I am always forgiving,” his fingers have slowed and it’s beyond frustrating, maddening, “but you’re going to have to take that one back.” You want so badly to finish, but this isn’t some negotiation, at least it shouldn’t be.
“’m-- afraid I can’t.” Hawks can see the desperation in your eyes. His hand is covered in your need, but you’re still being such a brave little bird. He’d be proud if he weren't so upset.
“You’re afraid you can’t,” he mumbles under his breath, amused at the notion. Hawks curls his fingers so suddenly and forcefully into you that it almost hurts. You yelp in surprise. “How immoral of you, baby! To just forget all your promises to me like that.” He’s fucking into you now, finally, so hard he might mean it as a punishment. You’re drunk with it though, head falling back to his chest. “Look at you. Can’t even sit up.” His fingers move inside of you in an exploratory way, like he’s never been there before, curling them at different angles while you start to breathe sporadically. “You look distressed.” Pretend worry in his eyes, kissing your forehead softly while he abuses your warm, wet walls. “Little damsel,” he dotes, “need help?”
“Hawks,” you whisper shakily, so close you can’t function.
“Yeahh, Hawks is here.” He’ll always, always be here. “So tight on my fingers. Take it back and you can come.”
“What? But--” His fingers slow again. “Fuck! No,” you protest, tears welling in your eyes. Just seeing you like this, he might break soon and fuck you regardless, but you don’t know that. “Don’t stop. I take it back,” you plead. “Wanna come. Need to.”
“Ask me correctly.” Is he kidding? You panic.
“Hawks. I’m, please.” You took the baby thing back. What does he want?
“Wrong answer.” You try and fail to find some relief on his stilled fingers. Maybe it’s the science of desperation, but it dawns on you. Your heart, he wants intimacy.
“Keigo,” you whine, music to his ears. “Keigo, I need you.”
“Smart girl. Knew you’d get it,” but now he’s slipping himself from you completely. You’re confused, fit to smack him at the offense. “s why I fell for you in the first place. So much brain in that pretty head.” You’re not processing the compliment, too focused on his orgasm denial.
“Keigo, why?” you beg in his arms, “I was good. Why?” Are you crying? He watches you squirm and it’s like relapsing on a drug. Fuck yes, he thinks, beg for me. He slaps your ass.
“You’ve got other things to remember first.” Hauling you over his shoulder and heading for the bedroom you’ve slept in for, as he’s determined, long enough without him.
“Not fair,” you huff. He’s being mean and you’re over it. Where was your sweet Keigo? Even when he was deceitful, he was sweet. All this because of the babies comment? Your face pressed in his back, you start kissing the feathers closest to his spine. Acquainted with the sensitivity of his newer tufts, and trying to speed things up. He moans, loudly, but spanks you again as a warning. You’ve no idea how much he’s missed feeling your lips there. “Don't tell me about ‘fair,’ baby bird. You did this to yourself. You knew,” he throws you on the bed, climbing over you in a second, “who I was when you said that.” Keigo shivers with disgust just thinking about it, just hearing you consider having some other man’s child. His wings quiver out from their very base like they got chills. No, he thought as he tugged your dress over your head, ignoring the zipper and hearing it rip, he’d protect you. He’d pull the sense from you with each orgasm. He’d pluck each thought of Todoroki from you like a bad fucking feather. He’d clean you and cover you in himself again.
“Kiego! I liked that dress! You--” his hand finds your sopping core again, “ahh... ruined it.” He laughs. How you can still yell at him while you’re this desperate is amazing. He’s just as desperate, but you’re too entertaining to not irk. He’s so in love. He starts teasing your clit. Even over your panties he can feel how ready you are, pulsing in his hand.
“I missed pressing your buttons,” he says mostly to himself. “Speaking of.” He removes himself. You’re so frustrated at this point, it’s beyond a pout. You spew anger, having no mind left to pay to where he’s headed.
“Keigo, if you don’t stop messing around and make me come, I swear--”
“You’ll what? Finish yourself?” He giggles as he reaches over you, opening the bedside table drawer. Immediately he finds the little silk bag, just long enough to fit what he’s looking for.
“Keigo! Get out of--” but it’s far too late.
“I knew it!” He’s slipping the dildo from its bag. You shouldn’t be embarrassed, but your face feels like it’s on fire. “This how you’ve been taking care of yourself without me?” You don't reply, fighting the urge to combust in another way now. “Hm, sweetheart?” He’s tapping it against the palm of his hand, checking it out, looking way too content with himself. Prick. “I guess it’s better than someone else,” he seriously considers, “but I’m still not a fan.” Ridiculous prick.
“Don’t be that insecure. You’re--” he moves to straddle you again, dildo in hand, “such a caveman.”
“A hawk,” he corrects matter of factly, pressing the power button on your toy so it starts to vibrate. “You look after my mate with this piece of rubber while some kid,” he crouches, pressing his head into the soft skin of your stomach, nipping, “tries to push me out of my nest,” meeting your eyes as you watch him, “and I shouldn’t care?” He reaches an arm up to your chest, massaging you over your bra, gently. You sigh. “‘Of course I’m insecure.” He sounds so earnest you actually feel sorry, the sun in your eyes. Loved in his heavy, romantic gaze, you let him come in for what you assume is a kiss. But just when his lips brush yours, Hawks presses the full length of the vibrator against you. You gasp into his open mouth, hips bucking into him. He forces his hand under the cup of your bra, pinching your nipple between his calloused fingers, then kissing you for real. You’ve been on edge for painfully long. He’s being too much, not enough.
“Stop teasing, ple--” He boosts the vibration level and you cast your head to the side, half hidden in the pillows as he looks at you like caught prey.
“You remember last Spring. I know you do.” Hawks sounds adamant now, serious, “I told you how my rut would be.” The assault on your breast ends so he can drag his hand down, down…. "Told you to board yourself up somewhere, away from me.” Your ruined panties are pulled from you with a haste. He moves the tip of the dildo to your clit, using it as a vibrator while he starts to finger fuck you. “But noo, it was okay that I wanted to fuck you stupid! It was--”
“G-god, Kei--!” he’s hitting that spot inside you, teasing it with the tips of his fingers, knowing when and where you’ll need more.
“Look at me,” he growls and you’re so desperate to not be denied another orgasm, somehow, you find it in you to lift your head.
“Was okay all I could think about was breeding this pussy, because," his tone changes, “‘I’m so in love with you, Keigo,’” he feigns in your voice, “‘You’re never too much for me,’” he continues while you stare down at him dumbly, mouth hanging open, “‘Yes-- I’ll make you a Daddy some day,’” he finishes. Cocking a brow at you, expecting an answer.
“Th--thought you were a good man then.” He withdraws his fingers and smacks your ass--hard. You complain at the emptiness, choking out a sob.
“And I am.” Another smack, the other side this time. “I let you be on birth control because you ‘weren’t ready’, too busy teaching other people’s chicks.” He runs the flat of his tongue against you, messily. Keigo moans at the familiar taste that’s been tempting him all night. Mine. Mine, he thinks. “And when you left me, I let you think I would allow it,” his quips, “even gave you space,” he adds incredulously, marvelling at his own grace. “And when you went on a date with Enji’s brat and let him kiss you,” he spits on your clit, adding to your arousal and his saliva, spreading it around, “I let him walk away in one piece.” He glides the dildo down, prodding at your entrance, pushing the tip in.
“Oh, more.” You look debauched now. “Please, need--”
“Wanted to kill him,” Keigo sucks your clit into his mouth and you scream. “But instead, I stayed home,” mercifully sliding the rest of the dildo in, “for a cup of coffee and a chat,” really hitting the “t.” He smiles up at you with his famous hero smile, all sunshine and innocence. “Doesn’t that sound like a ‘good man,’ baby?” Finally picking up speed, pounding the toy into you. Hawks thinks you look truly pornographic, mewling helplessly.
“Tell me how good I am, y/n.”
“So good, Keigo.” Hawks groans at his victory. “You’re so, feels so,” he watches your eyes begin to roll backwards, “g-good. Please!”
“Mhm,” he hums in approval, enjoying one more look at you giving in for him before returning to lap at your pussy. He draws circles around your desperate clit with that honeyed, evil tongue. You think you’re in heaven.
“Gonna’! Kiego, can I?,” your eyelashes fluttering, he sucks at your clit like a vice, “Hn!”
“Asking for permission” he sighs, “glad you remember some things.” Every time Hawks lifts his head to speak, you lose it. Will he just-- and he shuts up, moving his tongue in tighter, faster circles, applying more pressure to where you're depending on him. “Go ahead, Dove. Come on your silly toy before I trash it.” You’ve no time to process his words, thighs convulsing and squeezing his body between them.
Your orgasm feels like flying. “I love you,” as he kisses your stomach.
It feels like a starfire, like the sun. “I love you,” as he kisses your hip.
It feels like Keigo. “I love you,” as he kisses your core.
He slips the dildo from you, tossing it aside somewhere. He won’t give you too much time to recover, to come back down to Earth. He’s going to fuck you into the mattress you picked out together until you don’t care about the league, about anything but him and the babies he’ll put in you as soon as he replaces those pills. You whine and resist when he slips his tongue into your pussy.
“Nn. Babe, stop” the name makes his heart flutter, hearing you say it again. He could make a meal of you for hours, but decides to hear you out. “Wanna’ feel full again,” you admit almost sheepishly. He’s hard as a rock at how needlessly coy you still get. Where’d that big tough act go, baby bird? He gives your perfect hips a squeeze before venturing underneath, kneading the skin of your ass. Having his hands full of you elicits a hushed sound from his lips, a simple ecstasy.
“‘Full, huh? My slut wants to feel full?” He sighs in content and relief.
“Mhm Keigo please.” You sit up and reach for his belt, thinking you’ll take over at the rate he’s been moving. That’s not the plan, though. He pushes you back onto the mattress, arms pinned above your head. The brush of air from his wings when he pounces blows some of the hair off your sweaty, fucked out face.
“Full of what? Should I get the toy again?” he tests you.
“No!” You should be ashamed of how quickly you protest, but you’re not. Maybe later you’ll realize the point he’s making, the one you proved with your reply. Right now it’s just desire, and the warmth only Keigo can bring.
“Please Daddy, want your cock,” you blink up at him. You’re impatient with his game, and he’s not the only one who knows about weak spots.
“Oh fuck, y/n” He could bust in his pants-- reaching down to discard them while he lets you peel his hero suit over his head. “Then you get it. Nothing I won’t give you, sweetheart,” sounding like he’s assuring you both, “nothing I can’t provide.” You’re nonsensical with need so you just nod, agreeing to any deluded, nesting statements that flow from his mouth. There’s really no more ceremony to it. Kiego’s sick of waiting, all the nights he’s spent fisting his hand to the memory of you. He’s done his job. And now that you’ve come back to him, he has a new one. Interlocking his fingers with yours, he kisses you deeply as he guides his dick into you and you both shudder. “So good for me baby, god damn.” He’s the one to throw his head back now, losing almost all his control in the feeling of your walls around him again. “Fuuuck, I love this cunt,” he whines, “I love you.” The look in his eyes is somewhere else, some utopia of your pussy’s making. You’re trying to keep up with his kisses, you really are, but it’s mostly just a mess of mewls and spit, not that either of you mind. It’s always been this way between you: messy and comfortable and right. It’s right still-- isn’t it?
“Keigo, Keigo!” You keen as he fucks you with a purpose, hitting your spot over and over, hard and deep. This is still a lesson. This is still a reminder, a warning, a promise.
“Keep singing for me, Dove. Sound s’ pretty.” He lifts himself to watch your tits bounce from the pathetic looking twisted mess of your bra. Letting go of your hand to rip it off you so he can suck at your pretty, tender flesh. He litters hickeys everywhere: your upper chest, your neck. Let that snobbish little shit see these. Let him know who undressed you tonight.
“I--I” You stammer, throwing your arms around his neck for stability while he rocks you back and forth with impetus, claiming you, coddling you.
“You, what?,” he coos, “You love me?”
That wasn’t-- was it? Was that what you were saying? He’s right though. He’s right.
“I do.” Who else is going to need you like this? He makes all your loud and messy, all your chaos feel okay, small in his larger-than-lifeness.
“Hero, villain, whatever they call me,” he swears, “doesn’t change this.” A hand to the back of your neck guides your eyesight to where you connect as two bodies, where you suck him in over and over, making lewd, sinful noises fill the room. It sounds like love. “You’re my girl,” Hawks explains. “We’re a family, a home. I’ll-- ngh” he struggles, nearing his release. He can’t handle how your walls squeeze him with every sweet word you believe. “I’ll protect us forever, 'kay?” Keigo can see the light dance in your eyes, can feel you getting close to your second release. He wraps your legs around his back so he can hit deeper, release into you at the best angle for it to take. Your hands find purchase in his wings, pulling lightly, grasping at him for stability. “Okay? Tell me, Dove.” He sends a feather to your clit to flick at you mercilessly, to hurl you faster towards your edge.
“Fuck! F’rever.” You don’t know if you’re melting or floating, but the feather at your clit and his cock in your cervix has you seeing stars.
“Again,” he needs to know that you learned, “...please,” he needs to know that he’s safe.
“Home, Keigo. Ours.” You’re so perfect. He’ll never let you go.
“Good girl,” he grunts through his teeth, “You can come now. Come with Daddy.”
You sink your teeth into his shoulder, releasing around his warmth as he releases into yours. You’re spilling enough sunshine to fill a universe, or grow a new one inside you. A place where he’s the truest hero, where you’re never cold in the winter and lies melt in the sun. He collapses on top of you and pulls you under the covers.
When you wake in the morning, he’s gone, but that was never unusual. “The early bird saves the civilian,” he would always offer as he crawled out of bed on a Saturday morning. You’d feel selfish, ever asking him to stay. Last night hasn’t processed completely. You remember everything, know what you did, but somehow it’s still confusing. As the morning progresses, you find his feathers everywhere, some in curious places. You find one in your purse, one on the coat rack and by the door, even though you know he left through the window since it’s open. In the fridge you find a note on the very healthy, very balanced meal he’s prepared you. Hawks does that sometimes “to treat you,” he claims, so you don’t have to cook.
“The sunrise is beautiful this morning.
I’d say it’s the prettiest thing I’ve seen all week,
had I not just watched you sleep next to me.” - K
You shiver. They’re the words you said to Shouto at the door last night, adapted. They’re a golden, sucrose warning. What would you tell Shou this week, that he’d believe? Hawks was drastically underestimating him. Yes, he was younger, but that’s it, his most considerable disadvantage. Right now, Hawks could back up his threats, but in five years? You’ve watched Shouto at work trainings with the students, and you’ve seen recordings of his UA days. Not that you’d ever admit it to Keigo, but you know that one day, if he wanted to, Shouto could be a serious threat. And if he thought Hawks was mistreating you in any way, that’d be all it took. Shouto wouldn’t care if no one else believed him, if the public wouldn’t ever second guess their genial and beloved #2 hero. The more you get to know him, the clearer it is: Shouto’s never needed anyone’s approval to do what’s right. He’s a true hero-- a good man. He’d kill Hawks before letting him suffocate you, and Hawks would die before letting you go. Two very different experiences of, ideas of freedom. The reality of it gives you goosebumps. And suddenly, it's much too chilly in your drafty apartment. You go to close the window, wondering why he’d even leave it open this time of year. He ought to have known you’d get cold.
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