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depravitycentral · 3 months

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Yandere! Keigo Takami General Profile

Yandere! Keigo Takami x fem! reader

Tw: kidnapping, stalking, mentions of non-con, implied masturbation, possessiveness, lots and lots of guilt, Stockholm Syndrome/you've kind of lost it by the end, mentions of eating/eating healthily, mentions of murder, Dabi makes an appearance and is directly responsible for your kidnapping, insinuation that Keigo's jerked it to some rather icky nasty stuff of yours, non-consensual photography, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 15K (genuinely how)

DARLING PROFILE:

Smart

If Keigo was pressed to describe his type, the very first thing that he would blurt out is intelligent. He wants a woman that can match him in terms of intellect. Someone who can follow his quick-paced jokes, his sarcasm, someone that keeps up with him, really.

He finds it wildly attractive when a woman is confident in her own knowledge, and ideally his darling would be knowledgeable in an area he knows next to nothing about.

He likes hearing them spiel on about something they’re passionate about – and he'll be listening, intently, with a hand under his chin and eyes glossed over because while their words are interesting, watching them is really what’s fully engaging him. There’s something wonderful about the way that they’re able to answer all the questions he prompts them with, never missing a beat and fully dissecting his question before giving their best thoughts back.

It’s just wonderful, and although he’d never divulge any sensitive information to them out of fear for their safety, there’s something euphoric about knowing that if he really wanted to, if he could, he thinks they would understand how he feels.

He thinks they could understand how careful he has to be, how he has to think out his every move and word dozens of times in advance, making sure everything is exactly how it should be.

And really, this helps Keigo feel less lonely – it’s less polarizing and solitary if he knows that his darling could support him, even if he won’t tell them anything.

Just the knowledge makes him giddy, his heart beating faster because it feels so very good to not be alone.

Witty

Similarly to their intelligence, Keigo needs a darling who’s able to dish out what he serves. A witty, silver-tongued darling would have him constantly on his toes, finding that speaking with them is entertaining and leaves him wanting more.

His darling isn’t boring, or a drag to speak to – their stories and commentary leave him on the edge of his seat, growing addicted to their voice and finding himself wanting more more more, eagerly asking all sorts of follow-up questions that he normally wouldn’t bother with.

And really, this is one of the first signs that his feelings for them have ventured beyond friendly – he’s never been this invested in someone before, never wanting to interact with them so badly, never wanting to be around them and hear their voice and watch their lips move to form syllables.

He finds his darling’s sense of humor to perfectly match his own, leaving him winded and often more flustered than he’d care to admit.

They’re just so cute – the knowing little look they send him when they crack a bad pun that leaves him chuckling, the way their face scrunches up when they make an accidentally dirty joke.

It’s endearing, really, and it only makes him fall for them harder, his desperation to see them growing stronger with every passing day because god, they’re just so perfect.

Civilian

While Keigo is capable of developing an obsession with a fellow hero, it’s unlikely.

Part of what draws him to his darling is their innocence – they don’t understand the realities of their society, how violent and horrible the darkest members are, how much crime and unrest fills the city streets right under their nose.

It’s the way his darling is able to be so happy and carefree in the face of such terror that draws Keigo in – they practically radiate positivity, talking about their own mundane life and managing to lull Keigo into a false reality that he, too is simply a civilian.

That he isn’t a double agent with a non-existent sense of self, that he isn’t bursting with stress and anxiety at any given time. It’s a nice reprieve, really, and it’s one that he slowly begins craving. The moments of peace and tranquility addict him, causing him to view his darling as a sort of stress-reliever, someone he can go to when things become too heavy, too dark, too much.

He wants to hear about everything happening in their lives – their crazy neighbors, annoying coworkers, the cat they saw crossing the street, the latest thing broken in their apartment. He wants to know about the mundane things, the things he’s never experienced and never will experience.

His darling is a sort of portal to a totally different world – what he could have had if he hadn’t been born into the family he was, if he hadn’t had inherited his quirk, if he hadn’t have done this or that.

His darling represents possibility, a side of Keigo that he desperately, desperately wishes he could embrace – which is why he slowly begins fantasizing about a future with his darling, always complete with a nice little house, a few children, a pretty ring on their finger, and complete domestic bliss.

It’s a dirty fantasy to him, really, something far off and dreamy, but with every interaction he has with his darling, it only stronger, and he only grows more desperate.

Empathetic

Keigo needs someone who is able to see past the layers of persona he puts on as Hawks and instead see him. Keigo Takami. He needs someone who’s able to listen to his words and comfort him, to see the frightened, abused boy he still is at heart.

The idea of a darling who’s able to understand him on such a deep, raw level leaves him feeling equal parts terrified and relieved, because he’s never really had someone there for him before.

The concept of a companion, of someone to rely on and love and cherish is such a foreign concept to him, and although he finds the idea enticing (having watched more than his fair share of rom-coms and trashy romance movies), Keigo doesn’t believe that he’ll ever get to experience it.

His life is too busy and hectic, and having a woman to hold and love and protect would add too much unnecessary strain. Except once he meets his darling and he feels seen for the first time, things begin changing. No longer does he find himself alone, internally grappling with his real identity and his hero identity, slowly losing himself with all the stress and obligations towards the commission.

No, he’s not alone because he has them – his darling, the one who’s smile and a simple brush of their hand leaves him breathless, feeling like a little kid with a sense of wonder and hopefulness and love that makes his heart pound in his chest.

A darling that’s able to incite these feelings in him is really the key to catching his attention in the first place – a cruel fate, really, considering his darlings is only trying to help him, only trying to help reassure him that he doesn’t have to be the ever strong, ever cool Hawks in front of everybody.

It’s a noble thought, really – but ultimately one that dooms his darling, forcing the blond to latch onto them with incredible strength and never, ever letting go.

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:

Clingy

It takes quite a while for Keigo’s obsession to form. He’s never really had the time nor desire to get close enough to someone to even consider a relationship, and while he’s a had a one-night stand or two, that one night of intimacy is the closest he’s ever gotten to someone. He’s just not emotionally available, and for very good reason – he’s lived his entire adult life (and much of his youth) completely under the Commission’s control, his every desire, action, and thought controlled by others.

It’s sad and some part of him knows it, pitying himself even, but Keigo’s just not interested in developing any kind of romantic relationship with anyone. He doesn’t have time, and there’s a small part of him that questions if he’s even able to form that kind of a connection with someone. A childhood full of abuse, training and emotional neglect has fucked him up in more ways than one, and he’s genuinely unsure if he’s even capable of something like love, if he’d even be able to give someone a healthy relationship, his heart.

He swears off romance, finding it trivial and just not something for him, but things begin changing the longer he knows you, the longer he’s around you and spends time with you. His feelings are purely platonic at first – you’re funny, someone he finds himself actually getting along with and not dreading seeing, and it’s always a pleasure when he happens to run into you when he’s out on patrol or just wandering around the city in a rare moment of free time.

(And at this point, it genuinely is random – there’s no pre-planned meetings, no orchestrated attempts at just so happening to run into you, no attempt to follow you or know your location at all hours of the day. It’s just fate, really.)

He slowly warms up to you, deciding that he actually really likes you, and as the weeks turn into months, there’s this feeling that starts tugging at his heart. It’s this strange phenomenon where when he’s lost in thought, planning out his next moves in making sure he balances his double agent lifestyle, there’s this lingering thought of you.

He’ll gear up in his hero suit, shrugging the jacket on over his wings and checking himself over in the mirror, only to let his hand linger over his jacket lapel. He’d never noticed the small speck of blood on the tan material – had you? It was surely an enemy’s, some criminal that he’d roughed up a bit too badly before capturing, but it was still an unfortunate sight. His lips quirk down a bit as he thinks of whether you’d noticed it when you’d ran into him at the end of his patrol yesterday – you hadn’t mentioned anything, but maybe you were just being polite.

Something about the thought of you seeing him with blood on him leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

It’s not until a notification on his phone gets his pocket buzzing that he snaps out of his small reverie, blinking at his reflection and feeling a small bit of confusion settle over him. Why was he thinking of you? Surely it wasn’t your blood, and you hadn’t been present during any of his fights yesterday – why had the thought of you popped into his mind?

Keigo’s not sure, but he pushes aside the thought as he jumps off his balcony, the wind catching his wings and letting him soar towards the Hero Commission building.

He doesn’t give it much thought, but then it happens again the next day; he’s out on patrol, flying a good ten feet above the skyline of this particular neighborhood, when he sees a woman walking with a bouquet of flowers. They’re pretty, he supposes – roses mixed with some greenery and tulips, the kind of perfect bouquet you’d see in a rom-com or some cheesy movie.

He smiles a bit, seeing the way the woman was sighing down at them with a dreamy look on her face, and before he can stop himself there’s this flash in his mind of you with flowers in your arms. They’d be a different color, of course – your favorite color, and maybe even a different flower. Whatever one was your favorite, that’s what he’d get you.

He freezes as the last thought flits through his mind, his wings freezing too and causing him to falter a bit mid-air, desperately flapping them to stay afloat. What the hell?

He doesn’t like it, at first – the way you’re slowly seeping into every aspect of his thoughts, always some little twinge of you sitting at the sidelines, an idle thought of wow, you’d look great with that shirt on or a small question of would she like this?

It makes him uncomfortable, because he doesn’t know how to deal with this strange new development – sure, he's heard all about love and falling for someone, because while he may not look like it, he’s watched his fair share of chick flicks and raunchy romances.

But still, this is different – it’s different because it’s him, because it’s you. And it’s different because Keigo notices, as time passes, that none of those films or stories mention just how all-encompassing the feeling is, or how it makes him want to swing by your apartment every night, flying outside your window and letting those honey eyes scan the room to find your familiar figure.

They don’t mention anything about the desire that eats him up at night, how he seems to see you in everything around him – his pillow is soft, but he’s sure your stomach would be softer. His dining chair is comfortable, but having you sit in his lap would make it more comfortable.

The ratty shirt with the massive holes cut in the back is loose on him, but where it looks sloppy on him, you’d manage to look cute, he’s sure. It scares him, if he’s being honest, because he feels his control over himself slowly slipping through his fingers – he can’t stop himself from checking over you when he knows you’re at work, repeatedly flying through the area when he really doesn’t need to, just to make sure there’s no villainous activity.

(And always keeping an eye out for you when he knows your shift is over – he always gets too nervous and chickens out, but one of these days he swears he’s going to swoop down and pick you up, holding you in his arms as he flies around with you, chuckling in your ear and pulling you flush against his body under the guise of ‘safety’ – just please ignore the hardness you feel against your back or the labored breaths in your ear.)

It scares him that he can’t stop himself from suddenly paying much more attention to your every word, listening to you like you’re spouting holy epiphanies as you tell him about your coworkers or this new film you watched, biting his lip and nodding along, letting his eyes occasionally flick down to your mouth as quickly as he can, just so you won’t notice.

Thus starts a troubling pattern – Keigo starts slowly craving learning as much as he can about you, because with every thought that pops up into his head, he finds his knowledge about you is sorely lacking. He doesn’t know what your favorite flower is – he can’t get you that bouquet he was fantasizing of.

He doesn’t know where your favorite take-out place is – he can’t surprise you with dinner on nights he can tell you’re tired. (He can tell because he’d followed you home from the air and noticed your slouched shoulders and the way you’d looked on the verge of tears when you’d stubbed your toe on the uneven sidewalk, but still.)

He doesn’t know what size shoe you wear – he can’t pick you up those new shoes he thought you’d like, or get you a new pair of those fuzzy, warm socks he noticed were looking a little ragged in your laundry bin.

He doesn’t know what your ideal date is, so he can’t plan one with the knowledge that you’d be as happy as humanly possibly, all smiley and bashful and shy, all because you’re with Keigo himself.

It frustrates him, and he figures it wouldn’t hurt to look into you just a bit more – he’s got access to all kinds of information, security clearances associated with his status as both a hero, an agent of the Hero Commission, and an agent of the Meta Liberation Army making pretty much any piece of information he wants to get his hands on accessible. He’s getting access to your computer and phone, sifting through your search histories, contacts, even your bank accounts and government information.

(How else would he be able to start depositing occasional bits of money into your account, gifts he knows you won’t notice because you never check your transaction histories? You may not know about them, but he does, and it makes him feel good, important when he’s gifting you a hundred dollars here and there, making sure you have a cushion so that you can spoil yourself and indulge in all the things he knows you want to, but you don’t have the funds to do so.)

He’s designating a specific feather to slip into your purse or pocket, attached to your person so that he can track where you’re going, feeling the vibration against your back when you’re talking, when you’re shivering because you’re cold, when you’re standing or sitting or laying or moaning and gasping and shaking –

(He’ll always stiffen up when the feather he’d managed to slip into your jacket starts vibrating with the sound of your cries, his cheeks and neck feeling unbearably hot as he starts to sweat, wings twitching uncontrollably and rushing to the nearest bathroom, clutching the sink and grimacing because god, you’re moaning so damn much, you must be touching yourself and he’s not even there to see it, not able to watch you fall apart – maybe you’re even thinking of him, of how he’d fuck you nice and deep, pushing your knees up to your ears and groaning your name over and over while he fills you full of his cum – He’s in the bathroom for a suspiciously long time, and when he comes back with his pants just slightly askew, Dabi will cock a brow but not make a comment.)

He’s even going so far as to set up cameras in your apartment, having broken in one day when you weren’t home, making sure they’re placed in inanimate objects so you don’t find one and get scared.

(Though, he can’t deny that the image of you running to him in fear, crying and clutching onto him and telling him that someone’s stalking you has a very nice ring to it… Ultimately, though, he knows it’s best for you to not take on the stress and burden of knowing your every move is being watched, recorded, stored onto his phone and computer so that when he can’t sleep at night or is particularly stressed from all the lying and sneaking around, he’ll have something pretty and sweet to look at, something calming and relaxing, something that makes him sigh and his lips quirk up into a small smile as his thumb rubs the technology, imagining it was your cheek.)

It’s a slow slide into his obsessive tendencies, but once his feelings for you have formed in full, Keigo is a lost cause – and once you end up trapped with him, forced to depend on him for everything, this trait will only present itself more strongly, becoming harder and harder to ignore because he won’t bother hiding it anymore.

You’ll be scared and apprehensive every time he arrives with a glass of water right when you were beginning to feel thirsty, but really, you should know better. You’ll be unnerved when he presents a new bottle of shampoo to you right as you start itching to shower, but it’s inevitable.

Keigo knows you better than you know yourself, after all – and he just wants to keep you happy, keep you safe. He's just in love, and doesn’t he deserve someone to love?

Doesn’t he deserve to be happy too, to finally, finally have something all to himself, something that’s his?

Protective

Frankly, though Keigo hides it well, his protectiveness over you is unbearable. He’s a seasoned pro-hero who spends a good amount of time with villains, and as a result he’s more than aware of just how dark of a place the world really is. He has intimate knowledge of just how many horrible people are hiding in plain sight, all the violent and horrific crimes they commit, and just how often they manage to escape unscathed.

And of course, he also knows just how many innocent victims get wrapped up in their schemes, often resulting in injuries and trauma and even death. And while Keigo generally is disapproving of murder, he’s even more staunchly against the concept when it’s your death, when you’re the lifeless body that’s laying on the cold, hard cement, blood pooling around your head and your pretty eyes staring aimlessly above, your fingers cold and your neck bruised and oh god oh god –

The realization that the way he feels for you has wandered into romantic territory is the same moment that he realizes that you could very easily be one of the civilians he was just a hair too slow to save.

He’s helping an older woman crawl out of a pile of rubble left behind from a stand-off with a villain, part of the building having collapsed in on itself, and all of a sudden he sees something sticking out from below a large, cement cylinder – a foot, stained red at the ankle, and immediately he feels sick.

Evacuations aren’t always successful, and oh, look at that – the foot’s complexion is oddly familiar, and he swears he’s seen that nail polish on someone else’s fingers before. Bile actually rises up the back of his throat as he realizes that everything about this unfortunate soul reminds him of you, even down to the hair dotting her leg. It’s a hard pill to swallow as images of you bloody and bruised flash through his mind, each one making his chest tighter than the last.

It leaves his fists clenching and his jaw tight enough to make his teeth hurt, and it’s in that moment that his body almost seems to operate on autopilot – the images of you battered and too injured to be helped are still swirling through his mind as his feet leave the ground, his wings beating faster and faster with every second, his desperation to reach you strong enough to get his heart practically racing out of his chest.

The wind is whistling in his ears as he flies to your apartment, his muscles aching from the exertion, his lip caught between his teeth as he mentally chants that you’re okay, you’re okay, please God you have to be okay.

It’s only once he lands on your apartment balcony and sees you clumsily doing your dishes in the kitchen sink that relief floods his system, his entire body sagging against the railing as he finally lets out the breath he’d been unconsciously holding back.

You’re okay.

You’re alive and breathing, and as his eyes scan every exposed inch of your skin, he can’t find even a speck of blood. A hand comes up to rest over his heart, and Keigo swallows, Adam’s apple visibly bobbing with the weight of the motion.

He spends longer than he’d care to admit on your balcony that evening, those yellow eyes watching like a hawk as you move about in your tiny apartment, mentally assessing each and every movement. You’re pretty like this, he thinks – you’re entirely unaware that you’re being watched, but there’s something about seeing you be so natural and free that’s exhilarating, making his heart pound and his cheeks flush pink because this is what you’re really like when no one’s watching. It makes his chest ache to see it, his gloved fingers reaching out and pressing against the glass of your sliding door, the urge almost unbearable to be with you and hear what he’s sure is you singing along to some horrible song.

He’s idly wondering if you cook all your meals, and that’s why you have so many dishes – would you cook for him? He's a lousy chef and frankly a bit picky about his food, but he’d eat anything you make for him with a bright smile and trembling fingers, eagerly wolfing down the food and being nearly brought to tears because you made this for him.

He’s imagining the way you’d let him hold you at night, sharing a bed with you and your body pressed snugly beside his, an arm draped over your side and your soft breaths tickling the expanse of his chest. It’s a pleasant thought, but all too soon his phone is buzzing and he’s brought out of his reverie, glancing at the time and sucking in a sharp breath because it’s been an hour and a half of him just sitting here, gaping like an idiot at you.

Embarrassment creeps up his spine, but before he jumps off the balcony and heads to the Commission to report back, he spares a final glance over his shoulder at you, and the smallest of smiles sits on his lips, something warm blooming in his chest.

But from that moment onwards, Keigo slowly becomes more and more consumed by the idea of just how truly unprepared you are for any sort of villain encounter. You have a quirk, sure, but it’s minor and not especially useful, and it certainly wouldn’t help if you were to be cornered in some dark alleyway, or if you were to hear your front door’s lock being picked, or if you were to be caught in the crossfire of a villain robbing a bank.

And it’s small things that remind him of these facts – he'll see you trip over seemingly nothing, losing your footing and stumbling for just a moment, and immediately fear is sitting heavy in his gut because god, you’d be dead meat running from a villain. It’s endearing, of course, but it’s scary.

He hears you giggle sheepishly and rub the back of your neck as you admit to your friend over lunch that you’d forgot to lock your door when you left for groceries yesterday, his skin and feathers bristling and a small prick of anger bubbling inside him because are you asking to be the next tragedy covered on the news?

He takes you out for dinner (that he hopes you’ll think of as a date, even if the restaurant is a simple diner that he knows you love) and sees a bandaid on your finger, his voice a touch lower than his previous joking tone as he asks if you’re okay, did you hurt yourself? Your response of how you’d accidentally caught the sharp edge of a razor in the shower makes his entire body tense, both at the idea of you in the shower and at the idea of your blood being drawn, of the way you’d probably hissed and bit your lip, the pain acute. You’ll notice the way he freezes up, this look on his face that you can’t quite describe, but soon he’ll be flashing you that familiar grin, taking a sip of his soda and telling you that unshaved is better, hasn’t anyone ever told you that?

(He likes the way you roll your eyes and pretend that you aren’t embarrassed by his comment – at least, he hopes that’s how you’re feeling, because the comment made him himself a little hot under the collar.)

Everything you do is a reminder to him that you’re weak, and it’s this constant mantra that moves Keigo to take his own measures to ensure your safety. He’ll offer to walk you home from work every day, waving off your concerns by telling you that his patrols end right around that time anyways so it’s no big deal.

(They don’t – they tend to end much earlier, but this way he can fly around for a bit, trail you from the air and keep his eyes trained only on you, all with the luxury of lying when you notice his presence about how his patrol areas happen to line up with the district you work in.)

He’ll tell you that he’s sure your cooking is good, but he knows what place has the absolute best lunches – and would you look at that, it’s not too far from your apartment! Maybe you’d be interested in getting lunch with him sometimes? He knows the owner pretty well because he’s always in there, maybe he could even get the both of you a loyal customer discount.

(He’d only started eating there because a late night of watching you through your apartment windows had led to his stomach growling too much to bear, and he’d strolled into the twenty-four-hour establishment absolutely ravenous for food, still glowing from having watched your sleeping face.)

He’s even making unsolicited, subtle remarks about your own habits designed to get you to change some of your more problematic traits – he’ll tell you that eating breakfast is actually very good for you, he’s heard that people who skip breakfast tend to have bowel problems.

(It’s delivered as a joke and you snort because he’d been a little graphic with a bad pun thrown in there, and as Keigo basks in the sight of your smile and the sound of your laughter, he hopes that you’ll remember the sentiment – you need to be eating properly, after all.)

He’s telling you that crime rates have been awfully high in your neighborhood lately – it’s recommended for all civilians to avoid speaking to anyone on the streets – just for safety purposes, of course.

(And because it dramatically reduces the number of men you interact with, something that makes both his protectiveness and possessiveness cool ever so slightly because that means one less man that you could meet and fall for and want and love-)

And why shouldn’t you believe everything that he says? He’s the number two hero, a man who’s saved more lives than you could imagine – how could he not be the authority on safety? Who are you to doubt anything he tells you, any advice he gives you?

And Keigo knows this – which is why he’ll start pushing further and further with time, trying to convince you to drop anything dangerous at all; did you know that more people cut themselves with knives than with all other cutting tools combined? You should really be careful, you know – besides, sometimes recipes are better with whole tomatoes!

(Really, he just wants to avoid seeing a knife in your hands – you’re not trustworthy with something so sharp, even if the sight of you in the kitchen slaving over the stove is strangely adorable, strangely right.)

Did you know that most animal attacks are from dogs? Maybe you shouldn’t consider getting that cute puppy you’d been gushing about – you just never know.

(Really, Keigo’s just worried that you’ll end up spending all your time and attention with said puppy, leaving him with only the most meager scraps that won’t be nearly enough to satisfy him, and while he’s serious about the dog attacks, he’s mostly just selfish. Plus, an animal companion would make slipping through your window late at night almost impossible.)

Did you know that the vast majority of murder victims are women? You should probably take him up on his offer to be your personal chaperone – consider it a favor for a friend, he’d told you.

(Though he’d been gritting his teeth as he said the word ‘friend’, even the feel of it on his tongue making something ugly twist in his gut. The way he feels for you certainly isn’t friendly – it can’t be, not when he’s imagining waking up with you every morning, the way your lips would taste, how you’d look on your knees staring up at him while you gag and choke and suck so hard your cheeks hollow out.)

And once you’ve been kidnapped, this trait is only furthered, his paranoia eating away at him because he knows you’ll be rebellious, that you’ll want to lash out and hurt yourself and hurt him, and just the thought leaves him buzzing with anxiety, stress eating away at him because he absolutely refuses to let you get injured in any way.

You have to stay pristine – his gorgeous, precious partner that he loves, the only woman who’s ever made him feel something so strong. You have to be okay – because if you aren’t, then he isn’t either, and the only thing more dangerous than a powerful, cunning man living a double life is a broken, apathetic man who wants everyone to know just how little life means now that his other half is gone.

Controlling

His controlling tendencies manifest as a result of both his extreme protectiveness, and as a sort of coping mechanism from the lack of control he has over his own life. He does love you – at least, he thinks this is love.

(If it’s not love, then Keigo doesn’t know what the fuck this could possibly be – what else would cause him to be thinking of you at all hours of the day, his body physically aching and yearning to be with you? What else could cause his breathing to hitch and become so uneven when you’re in his presence, his quirk nearly out of his control as his feathers ruffle and flutter and come down around you like some sort of cage?)

He loves you, sure, his obsession festering into something darker, deeper, more unmanageable and impossible to come back from, but there’s a part of him that begins exerting this control over you as a way to satisfy himself.

By dictating your life, it’s almost like he’s dictating his own – like he gets to choose what happens, like he has self-autonomy, like he isn’t just a puppet being used by others. It’s euphoric, cathartic, and this only furthers his dependence on you – not only do you make him feel something warm and gooey and suffocating in his chest, but you also make him feel calmer, more grounded, more whole.

But as lovely as it is for Keigo to finally get a grip on his own mental health, this has rather disastrous effects on you – even before he’s stolen you away, these controlling tendencies are present. Of course, they’re difficult to spot when Keigo is still just the handsome, flirty hero who seems to have a soft spot for little old you. You’re in a metaphorical honeymoon phase at that point, beyond flattered that someone like him has noticed someone like you.

And so, you don’t really notice the way that he tells you to stop hanging out with a particular friend that you keep rambling on about. They’re going through a hard time, you’re sure of it – it’s the only reason they’ve been so snappy and distant lately, and it’s only natural for you to bear your burdens to Keigo, telling him how they were rude to you last weekend, how they’ve been ignoring your calls, how you’re at a loss because what could possibly be happening?

And Keigo will grit his teeth, his smile tight and visibly strained as he clutches onto his coffee cup with white knuckles, eventually telling you wow, that really sucks, some friend. Maybe you should stop hanging out with them – obviously they aren’t as invested in the friendship as you are, sound like they’re not as good of a friend as you are, frankly.

It’s good advice, all things considered, but it’s presented in a way that flatters you, that makes you sound like you’re the reasonable, good friend and they’ve simply dropped the ball. And so, you’ll follow his advice – that friend isn’t contacted again, and Keigo personally sees to it that you’ve blocked them, having gone in and manually done it on your phone while you were fast asleep.

You won’t notice how he makes subtle comments about what you should order when you’re at a restaurant together – he’ll never make comments about your weight, but he’ll prompt you to eat something healthier, something more, something that’ll leave you happy but nourish you as well. The comments are again difficult to spot – when he opens up the menu, he’ll pipe up and tell you that they’ve got that salad you were talking about the other day – you know the one? Yeah, sounds good – do you want to split it? I think we should get some extra chicken on top, too.

(Once the salad arrives, of course, you’ll be eating the majority – Keigo will nibble at it, picking at it and making a bit show of always having his fork packed with the greens – and a lot of the chicken – but you’ll be the one shoveling food into your mouth, feeling full by the time Keigo’s eaten roughly ten bites.)

You won’t notice it much at all, really – which is why it’s such a shock to one day wake up in Keigo’s luxury, king-sized bed, the soft white sheets smelling like fresh laundry and the pretty red, silky pajamas he’d changed you into feeling foreign on your body.

But just like his more needy and clingy tendencies, Keigo’s controlling nature will start to show itself once he’s stolen you away. There’s no point in hiding how he feels now, is there? You’re aware that he’s in love with you (he tells you every fucking day, after all, with a hushed voice that sounds much too vulnerable for you to bear and a barrage of kisses along your jawline and neck), so what’s the point in dialing down some of the more questionable aspects of his infatuation?

He’d kidnapped you out of paranoia, and now that you’re with him constantly, he’s able to really, fully control your actions and the things you’re allowed to do. He’s not too dehumanizing with it, but there’s a lot of limits on things that you normally wouldn’t even think about – you’re allowed to watch TV, but only for an hour a day and only specific channels and programs he’s approved.

(Generally, the cutoff for what he considers ‘appropriate’ for you are things without graphic violence, nothing terribly sad, and nothing that would cause you tension or stress. So, all horror movies are off the table, all dramas, all action films, really only leaving the things he wouldn’t mind watching with you – romances, mostly, and the occasional film with much more erotica than he realized. His face will turn red as the actors moan and whisper hushed I love you’s, his yellow eyes nervously flicking over to you from his spot beside you, his fingers itching to reach out to you, the blanket covering you both suddenly feeling much too hot.)

You’re allowed to eat what you want, but with a few very strict guidelines – you can’t have anything over a certain amount of grams of sugar, nor are you allowed to consume anything that isn’t paired with a vegetable. He’s forcing you to eat protein, and if you don’t eat meat he’ll count out a specific number of nuts you must consume that day, just to make sure you’re getting proper nutrition.

He especially loves if you’ll let him feed the nuts to you, or any food, really – he likes to feel needed and helpful, and to have you looking at him with those pretty eyes, the fork pressed against your lips while you swallow and thank him for the food… It makes Keigo’s breathing get a bit heavy, his mouth watering because god, he wants to use that fork after you, would you think that’s weird?

He’s not taking away any of your basic privileges like dressing yourself or using the restroom alone, but Keigo has a way of making you feel pathetic without even trying to; there’s just something about the way he looks at you, all soft smiles and wide eyes, his palms always clammy and nervous, his touch always hesitant but eager.

He won’t explicitly create a schedule for your daily life under his thumb, but you’ll essentially be in one, anyways. He leaves for work in the mornings, parting from you with a very, very tonguey kiss, and while he’s gone on his patrol all day, you’ll cycle through reading a few of the (pre-approved) books he’d gifted you, practicing your art skills, practicing your musical skills, and staring out the fifteen-story window, the one-way, bulletproof glass not giving you even the option to crack it if you wanted to brave the fall.

You’ll be stagnant, really, something that Keigo doesn’t appreciate at all once he notices it happening, but it doesn’t change the fact that he absolutely can’t relinquish control – you’re his, and even if you’re unhappy, Keigo will be damned if he gives up caring for you and making your decisions for you. That’s love, isn’t it? He knows what’s best for you, so why can’t you see that? Why do you fight him and tell him he’s a monster, a horrible, horrible man?

He just wants to keep you safe and happy and loved, so why are you making it so fucking difficult?

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

While Keigo isn’t too terribly possessive as far as yanderes go, he really only has so much self-control. Of course, he doesn’t like seeing other men around you, those already narrow eyes of his growing even sharper and smaller because he does not like this.

But what sets Keigo apart from others is that while he’s enraged, anxiety and anger prickling at his skin and causing goosebumps to litter his entire body, he’s smart. He’s good at reading people, at fully assessing situations and making split seconds analyses, and that’s exactly what he’ll do whenever he sees you in a situation where another man is showing interest.

He’ll examine the man’s face – is he smiling? Laughing? Serious? Frowning?

Smiling and laughing generally means one of two things – either the man hopes to become friends or acquaintances with you, or he’s flirting and he thinks it’s going very well. Keigo can’t decide which option he hates more.

A serious expression or a frown normally means that the man is trying to create a mysterious air – to embody hypermasculinity, to try and lure you in by looking the part of the strong, dominant man who’s only weakness is you. It makes Keigo cringe, his nose scrunching up in a wince as he thinks of how terribly stupid this man must be to think you’d fall for something like that – he obviously doesn’t know you or your intellect, at least not like Keigo does. Nobody knows you like Keigo does – not even yourself.

He’s looking at the man’s body language – if he’s leaning towards you, he probably has less than innocent intentions, either trying to intimidate you or get close to you to fulfill some sick, perverted urge.

(An urge that Keigo knows all too well – the urge to feel you, to touch you, to smell you, to have your skin against his. It’s an urge that he’s had to fight more times than he can count, stopping himself from scooping your into his arms and burying his face into the crook of your neck, his hands roaming every inch of your body because god, you smell good and you’re so fucking pretty and your voice is like heaven to his ears and you feel too damn good pressed against him like this and fuck you drive him absolutely insane.)

If the man has his hands in his pockets, that generally signals to Keigo that he’s not as confident at this as he’d like you to believe, showing the hero that the man is more than aware that you’re wildly out of his league, that really the man should have absolutely no business speaking with you.

Keigo’s noticing the distance between your body and the stranger’s – if it’s more than three feet, he’s able to take a small, minimally relieved sigh because at least the man isn’t likely to try something. But if he’s closer to you, dangerously close to being in your space and making you feel uncomfortable, immediately Keigo’s wings are flapping, the movements harsh and unconscious as his fists tighten and he grits his teeth because he’ll be damned if he lets anyone make you uncomfortable.

And he’s analyzing your body language, too, of course – if you like the interaction, if you’re pleased by the attention, if you’re scared, if you want to leave, even if you want to leave with the stranger himself. And while Keigo wishes he was wrong, the moments where you actually seem to be enjoying the flirting of a stranger make him bristle, a deep scowl settling on his face while insecurity and panic grip his heart because he has to stop this before it's too late – before you let yourself get wooed by another man before Keigo even gets the chance to fully earn your trust and adoration.

Seeing you approached by potential rivals for your love really brings out the worst side of Keigo – it brings out all the skills the Commission drilled into him, those eyes of his dissecting the other man like he’s merely a slab of meat, the blond finding every possible point of weakness in the man’s stature or attitude, just so Keigo can understand the full scope of what he’s competing with. Just so that Keigo can understand exactly how he can be better than this loser – how he can impress you and get you acting all bashful and dismissive of his witty flirting just like you should be.

Jealousy isn’t too pretty on Keigo, and while he won’t just blindly murder any man that steals your attention for even a moment.

(He’d lose his hero status very quickly, no matter how much he sometimes wants to send a feather clean through their neck, slicing their head off and feeling not a smidge of remorse because now he’ll finally stop running his mouth at you when you’ve clearly already been chosen to be Hawks’s woman – the number two’s sweet, important little partner that he absolutely cannot lose).

His patrol had felt incredibly long today – no large villain sightings, with only a few petty muggers making the time pass. Keigo sighs, wings flapping and wind whipping in his ears as he eagerly scans the streets below.

Normally, you’d be walking to the grocery store right around now – he’d noticed you were low on eggs, so it was only a matter of time before you braved the cold autumn air. Suspicion immediately pricks along Keigo’s spine, however, as he slowly flies along the path that you take to the store. You’re no where in sight – he doesn’t see your familiar jacket or notice the way the sunlight glistens off your hair, and immediately something uncomfortable is settling in his gut.

This wasn’t like you – you’d told him once that you prefer this time of day for your shopping because the store is the least crowded, and Keigo knows how you feel about interacting with strangers. And yet, you’re missing – something that makes him immediately pick up his speed, brows knitting together and his lower lip caught between his teeth. Eager eyes scan every sidewalk as he quickly makes his way to your apartment complex, every second that he doesn’t see you only furthering the feeling of dread slowly eating at him.

He’s near the point of whipping out his phone to call you and check the tracker he’d installed into your phone when he lets out an audible sigh of relief, having spotted your familiar form on the sidewalk below. You’re only a few blocks from your apartment at this point – and with a look of disgust, Keigo identifies the reason why.

There’s a man with you.

You’re standing and speaking with him, tucked away at the corner of the sidewalk, and immediately the feeling of panic is replaced by anger, his shoulders tensing up. As he swoops down and lands on the top of the building above you, he cranes his neck to get a better look at this man. Keigo’s never seen him before – you’ve never interacted with him in all the months he’s been watching you, leading him to believe that this man is a stranger.

Keigo taps his foot impatiently, trying to decide if this is good news or bad news. On the one hand, it’s always good news to know that you don’t have many men in your life – Keigo should be the only one, really, the only person, even, not just man.

But it also means that this stranger probably stopped you to strike up a conversation, which can only means two things – either the man is asking an innocent question, or he’s interested in you. Interested in you, as in wanting to date you, to kiss your pretty lips and hear you whisper those three words and bend you in half and make you scream and moan and gush-

Keigo grits his teeth, left eye twitching slightly at the mere thought of this man being brazen enough to approach you like this. And based off the way he keeps steadily stepping closer to you and you keep subtly shifting away from him, Keigo suddenly understands exactly what’s going on.

He hesitates for only a moment, a small pang of doubt registering in the back of his mind (wondering if this is how you look when you’re with Keigo himself, that annoying insecurity revolving around anything romantic and anything with you once again filling him with false worries), before he’s jumping from the rooftop, landing with a small grunt onto the sidewalk a few feet away from the two of you.

Clearing his throat, he walks with a bit more urgency than normal towards you, slinging an arm around your shoulder and leaning in.

What’re we talking about? Keigo asks, yellow eyes fixed on the man, any semblance of a smile gone from his face. His chest is puffed out ever so slightly, wings spread to make his physical presence as big as possible, to make him as intimidating as possible. Immediately you’re jumping, slightly embarrassed and slightly relieved at Keigo’s sudden presence. He feels you relax slightly against him and tries to ignore the way his throat goes dry and his pupils dilate – he’ll relive the memory of you feeling safe around him later tonight, but now’s not the time.

The man steps back immediately, rubbing at the back of his neck and looking at the hero sheepishly, guilt written all over his face. Keigo scoffs under his breath, examining the man’s face in closer detail. He’s somewhat attractive, and that same nagging voice comes back, idly wondering if you’d prefer brunettes like this man over blondes like Keigo, or if you preferred slightly taller men, because this stranger is easily a few inches taller than the hero. He frows, biting the inside of his cheek and willing the thoughts to go away – at least until he’s sorted this out.

Oh, Hawks, hey man, I didn’t – we’re not talkin’ about anything. Nice to meet you, miss. The man fumbles for his words, before quickly backpedaling and practically running the opposite direction, peeking over his shoulder every once in a while and wincing.

Keigo holds his ground, not moving, keeping those eyes locked on the man’s figure until he’s eventually a good block or two away. Only then does Keigo turn to you, his cheeks a little pink as he flashes you a smile. He’s still got his arm wrapped around your shoulder, and he gives you a small squeeze that he hopes isn’t too forward – he wouldn’t want you to get the idea that he’s after the same thing that stranger had been.

(Though really, isn’t he? He just wants all of you, not only your body – and he can take much better care of you, can’t he? Better than that gangly, sleazy man ever could, better than any other man ever could.)

He’s brought out of his small reverie by you profusely thanking him, telling him that the man had just approached you out of nowhere and you didn’t know how to leave the situation without it potentially escalating.

Keigo only smiles lazily, nodding at you and telling you not to worry, that he’s a pro hero, so it’s kind of my job, you know? Though for my favorite civilian, I don’t mind working overtime.

He winks at you after that, feeling only slightly anxious that you’ll find the action too arrogant, but you only blink owlishly at him, mumbling something about feeling guilty that it’s ‘overtime’. Keigo waves off your concerns, releasing your shoulder and trying not to show loss on his face.

You thank him again, smiling at him in a way that gets his knees very close to buckling, but he just clears his throat and nods, saluting you playfully and letting his wings flap, already a few feet in the air as he tells you to enjoy the rest of your night and to call him if any other creeps show up. You’re still smiling as he flies back over the roof of the building, but you don’t notice how he stops, peeking over the roof to see you make your way in the direction of the grocery store.

A small smile sits on his lips at the sight, smaller and more genuine than the smirk he’d been wearing moments ago.

Knew it, he thinks earnestly, already mentally predicting what you’ll pick up from the store. And as he hovers back into the air, cracking his neck and knuckles, he decides following you there couldn’t hurt – just in case any more men decide to mess with his woman.

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

Keigo’s obsession with you is overwhelming, terrifying, and pushes him to do a number of things that force his morals to be flung out the window of favor of keeping you safe, happy, his, but there’s still a few things that he can’t push himself to do, even with you in mind. One of these things is to steal you away.

Kidnapping you is not something he wants to do – he may nurse a few beliefs about how you’ll eventually forgive him for being so obsessive and domineering over you, but Keigo isn’t stupid. He knows your image of him will never recover if he presses the chloroform-soaked rag up to your mouth and coos at you while you fall limp and into his arms.

He knows you’ll never truly forgive him if you wake up one morning in his apartment, breakfast in bed waiting beside you while he stares eagerly down at you, apologizing for having to be so extreme but trying desperately to convince you that he had no other choice, that he did it for you, that he did it to keep you safe.

He knows it won’t go over well, and Keigo already feels so unsure of how to properly court you and make you genuinely like him and not just Hawks that he doesn’t want to do something even slightly risky. He already knows that stalking you, breaking into your home at night to restock your refrigerator and lay beside you on your bed is crossing enough boundaries and grounds for you to be seriously afraid of him, but kidnapping you is a line he simply isn’t willing to cross.

At least, that’s how he initially feels – until something drastic happens, something that seriously threatens your safety and Keigo can’t just simply sit back and allow it to happen. And of course, it’s fucking Dabi – Keigo’s stomach drops when he hears you mention something about running into a man on your way over a cozy cup of coffee in a local café, the air warm and smelling of espresso.

He’d picked the café because he knew it wasn’t super busy – as much as his pride swells when civilians notice him and beg him for autographs and photos right in front of you, it also makes him nervous because the last thing he wants is to come off as cocky or arrogant or rude.

(Plus, the thought of making you jealous of his fans – especially the adoring women – gets his heart racing, his face and ears feeling hot because it makes him feel good that you’re being possessive over him, but he really doesn’t want you to worry. He’ll always be yours.)

But now he’s wishing it was full to the brim, voices chattering and making it difficult to hear the way you describe a man with so many piercings and a pretty serious skin condition came up to me, he knew my name! Keigo, why do you think he knew my name? Do you think I should be worried?

He’s stiff, every muscle in his body tense and his grip on the coffee cup in his hand so tight that it shatters, coffee and ceramic shards getting everywhere. He’s still staring at you, though, even as you gasp and stand up, running to grab some napkins and wipe up the still steaming coffee. There’s some on his hand but he doesn’t seem to care – to even notice, really, if the way he’s just staring and not even flinching is any indication.

Your brows furrow as you wipe the drink off of him, chest heaving slightly as you ask him if he’s okay, if it hurts, if he’s even listening to you. Keigo just swallows, still looking at you, before telling you with an unnervingly flat voice that it’s certainly weird, but I wouldn’t worry about it.

You don’t mention it again, instead trying to ignore the heavy atmosphere and the way he’s looking at you, all wide-eyed and not a single bit of emotion on his face. It’s scaring you, to be honest, and you’re quick to give him a small side hug and thank him for meeting you for coffee. Keigo mumbles something back as he watches you walk away, something prickling at the corners of his eyes that almost feel like tears as he imagines how Dabi could’ve possibly learned about you.

He’d been so fucking careful – always making sure to not let his phone ever directly point at your face or your address, never explicitly saying your full name in case he was being bugged, never even breathing any bit of information that the greedy bastard could get his hands on.

And yet, it’d all been for nothing – because now that Dabi knows about you, everything has changed. You’re in danger, because although Keigo believes that Dabi won’t immediately kill you, he can’t simply rely on his gut – you’re in danger. And although he’d promised himself he wouldn’t snatch you away, that he wouldn’t betray your trust and make you hate him, he doesn’t really have a choice now, does he?

And so, with a heavy heart and red, puffy eyes, Keigo slips into your apartment, the sleeping pills he’d mixed into your water sitting on your nightstand leaving you out like a light, even as he fabricates the crime scene. He’s shattering your window to mimic a home invader, tangling up your sheets and leaving dirty prints coming out your front door, your clothes ransacked and your television and computer destroyed.

It has to look real, after all – faking a death is difficult but he’s done it before, and as he soars away across town to his own apartment, with you clutched in his arms and your hair tickling his neck, Keigo can only whisper apologies against the crown of your head, squeezing his eyes closed and hoping that even in your unconscious state, you can feel how terribly, terribly sorry he is.

Of course, even though your kidnapping isn’t the idea situation for you or your captor, Keigo still tries to make the best of it. He doesn’t pretend to think that you’re happy with him – he expects the crying and screaming when you wake up the next morning, his expression carefully neutral as you accuse him of being a villain, a creep, even though it makes his chest ache in a way no injury ever has, his lips feeling numb because god, he can’t breath with how you look at him in disgust and hatred.

It’s horrible – but he grits his teeth and bares it, avoiding the pillows (lush and top-quality, of course, covered in sheets of your favorite color) you’re throwing at him, not saying anything until you’ve had your fill. And really, his explanation once you’d calmed down enough to listen to it isn’t nearly enough – he’s at a loss for words, really, looking at you with such honest eyes that it only makes you cry harder.

He’ll tell you that I need to keep you safe, and I – I’m selfish, so this is the only way. It’s lackluster and it’ll have you despising him, but as the days slowly pass, you’ll find yourself growing less and less enraged at him, instead growing more and more complacent about your new life.

Because really, Keigo absolutely fucking spoils you. He’s certainly not hurting financially, and he won’t bat an eye at buying anything and everything he thinks you could possibly want.

He’s getting takeout every night, ordering all your favorites (without having to ask you, of course, something that’d scared you at first, but there’s something about the way he eyes you as you eat it that makes you pause, his small, almost shy question of do you like it sounding rushed and nervous) and making sure to pick up snacks and goodies on his way home from almost every patrol. He loves to see you smile, and even in the beginning, when you’re still afraid of him and betrayed, the way your lips quirk up ever so slightly into the shadow of a smile when he hands you your favorite snack makes him gulp, something warm and overwhelming and hopeful bubbling up inside him.

He’s buying you pretty necklaces and jewelry that remind him of you, all the pieces startlingly within your tastes, his memory of the jewelry you used to wear so acute and strong that he knows your style even better than you do.

All of the clothing he buys for you (mostly comfortable clothing, lounging shirts and sweatpants and giant blanket ponchos) fits you perfectly, almost seeming to be tailored with the way they fit around your bust, hips, ass, shoulders, and thighs.

(He won’t buy you any formal clothing, however – he’s faked your death, and he can’t exactly take you out for a nice date now, can he? He wouldn’t mind doing a candle-lit dinner in his own apartment, maybe sprinkling a few rose petals over the table and cooking you something that he really, really needs you to like, but he knows you aren’t willing. You’d thrash and refuse, not eating his food and looking at him with those eyes, the ones that are hard and calloused and sting with pain. So, he instead purchases the pretty dresses with low tops and slits up the leg, storing them in his spare closet so that you never see them, so that you don’t feel forced into anything more than you don’t want. Kidnapping is enough – romantic dinners would be amazing, the kind of thing that Keigo thinks about with a small, sad smile on his face as he watches you sleep late at night, but certainly not a thing that could happen. Absolutely not – at least, not any time soon.)

He’s embracing each and ever artistic and creative passion you’ve ever had, buying you unfathomable amounts of supplies and instruments of the highest quality, waiting with baited breath to see if you like them, hoping with his hands clutched into fists at his side that you’ll smile at him, that you’ll look at him in anything other than hate – and perhaps, if he’s lucky enough, you’ll even thank him.

(Just the thought makes him shiver, a blush rising from his chest all the way up his neck because he can’t not immediately imagine the way you’d thank him – perhaps you’d give him a kiss, full of tongue and spit and moans, or maybe you’d even sink to your knees for him, telling him that you appreciate his thoughtfulness, his love, how he works so hard to keep me safe, won’t you let me thank you, Keigo? Please?)

It’s wishful thinking, of course, but Keigo tries to do everything humanly possible to keep you as happy as you can be given the situation. Of course, he’s still controlling, laying down rules that you’ll be too afraid to disobey, because although Keigo is soft with you and treats you like you’re made of glass, you’ve seen the televised fights, the way his knuckles are sometimes bruised after patrols, the way he snaps angrily into his phone when the Commission calls him with yet another assignment. He’s still dictating what you can eat, how much contact you get with the outside world, your limited sources of entertainment, anything and everything. But he tries his absolute hardest to respect you in every other way, if only to perhaps plant the seeds of you one day growing to tolerate him, of you one day even perhaps loving him.

And so, Keigo forces himself to do the hardest thing of all – not physically crowd you. He’s always wanted to be touchy with you, the years of not having anyone to hold or even give platonic physical affection causing him to be touch-starved, and so once you come into the picture?

Well, he’s only a man – he can’t help but imagine the way your hand would feel in his, fingers intertwined and your soft skin pressed against his own rougher hands.

He can’t help but imagine kissing you, feeling how soft and gentle your lips would be against his, how you taste, how you’d make little sighs and whines when he starts kissing you harder, deeper, letting even just the smallest sliver of his desperation for you shine through.

He can’t help but imagine pulling your body against his own, keeping every inch of you flush with him while you watch a movie together, his fingers toying absentmindedly with your hair, deep exhales sounding from behind you each time he leans in to catch a whiff of you.

He can’t not imagine the way you’d get all shy and bashful when the hand that’s been running up and down your sides suddenly dips lower, cupping at your ass while he lowly mumbles your name, telling you that he can’t hold back anymore, angel, can’t I have a taste?

He’s being good – he’s forcing all those urges and fantasies to the side, not putting you in a position where you feel forced into physical contact of any kind, sexual or otherwise. He’s respecting you, prioritizing you, even if it slowly destroys him. Having you right there, stuck with him, permanently bound to his side makes him want to grab onto you and never let go, to latch onto you like some sort of leech and take everything you have to offer and then some. It drives him fucking crazy, but he knows he’ll get nowhere by forcing anything onto you.

And so, he holds his tongue, forcing his hand to not reach out and touch, forcing himself to not say the compliment on the tip of his tongue that’ll likely make you more uncomfortable than flattered. He’s good, and eventually you’ll end up slowly coming to tolerate him. Sure, he’s kidnapped you and sure, you’re still understandably upset at him, but isn’t he right? You’d seen the man that approached you before Keigo stole you away – if he’d attacked you, what would you have done? You’d have hoped and prayed that Hawks would have shown up, that you’d been saved because you were too weak and incapable of doing it yourself.

So maybe he’s right – maybe you do need him, like he tells you late at night when he thinks you’re asleep. He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself, sounding more and more sure of himself as the night wears on and he repeats aloud that he’s keeping you safe, I’m keeping you safe, I know you don’t understand it now but someday you’ll realize that I only took you to keep you out of harm’s way.

And once you get past that barrier of hatred and animosity, it’s disturbingly easy to let Keigo take full control, to give into him in every possible way.

You’ll stop fighting his diet planning, you’ll gladly thank him for any book he gives you as entertainment, you’ll eagerly listen when he tells you about his patrol and how he encountered so many villains who’d done horrible things. And Keigo will notice this change in your attitude – it’s too early to tell and he’s always been too pessimistic to be hopeful, but you almost seem to be liking him. You’re starting to revert back to the woman he first became obsessed with – all smiles and laughter and snarky comments that left him choking on his drink.

And he can’t believe it – he has to pinch himself, staring at you in shock with a flushed face as you make some comment alluding to him being ‘too handsome for his own good’, the fork in his hand clattering down onto the plate. From there, it’s a steady trajectory up – you’ll start getting even more little knick-knacks, shiny things and expensive things that he leaves in pretty, bow-wrapped boxes for you, a card written in his best handwriting that says something along the lines of for my angel.

It’s cheesy and makes you laugh a bit, but Keigo keeps doing because god, please laugh like that again, say his name while you do it and maybe even reach out to touch his shoulder…

He jumps at the opportunity to further your changing opinion of him, determined to make you like him, determined to let him love you like he knows he can – like he’ll do anything to prove to you.

PUNISHMENTS:

As a general rule, getting Keigo upset with you is kind of difficult. He views you as his own personal slice of heaven, the only thing that he truly has. You’re the only thing that belongs to Keigo Takami, not Hawks, not the Commission, only him, and because of that he tends to idolize you.

You’re his first real romantic partner, his first real romantic experience, and the combination of that plus his intense, pitifully strong desire to please you makes it hard for him to stay angry at you for any significant period of time. And so, while he’s far from the ideal captor (too clingy, too controlling, too awed when he looks at you), Keigo will avoid punishing you at all costs.

He just doesn’t see the point – he doesn’t want you to hate him any more than you already do, and the thought of purposefully hurting you makes him feel physically ill. He hates seeing you in pain – it’s part of what drove him to steal you away, after all, the terror he felt at knowingly putting you in harm’s way. He’s protective and frankly anal about your health, and so to purposefully bruise your pretty skin or make you cry makes him angry enough to want to hit something, angry enough to literally writhe in his own rage.

And so, Keigo swears off any sort of physical altercations with you – he’s just too strong and you’re just too weak, and it would break him to know that he was the source of your pain and misery.

(He knows he is, already, but he can’t be the source of it physically, too, otherwise he might just shatter, feeling entirely numb and carrying out his missions like a robot, utterly unaffected by the world because he hurt you, and can he even call himself a decent hero, a decent man after that?)

However, while causing you physical harm is off the table, Keigo is realistic enough about your situation to know that punishing you entirely is something he can’t avoid. You will act out, he’s sure of it – he’d be concerned if you didn’t, really, and so he’s expecting you to lash out at him and try to hurt him. If he were you, he’d do it too.

But as much as he expects this behavior and wouldn’t fault you for it, Keigo knows that if he wants to make any progress, if he wants to give you even a chance at eventually growing complacent (it’s a selfish desire, really, but it’s the only route he can see to where you’ll be even remotely happy, or at least not fighting tooth and nail at all costs), he has to establish repercussions for when you’re throwing tantrums or acting poorly.

It feels condescending and Keigo hates it, but he decides that where physical punishments fail, he must rely on emotional ones. It’s manipulative and it makes Keigo feel dirty, disgusting, like a poor excuse for your so-called-protector, but it’s his only choice. He has to get you into shape, both for your sake and his. It’s the only choice, he swears.

You really hadn’t meant to stumble upon something you weren’t supposed to find, really. As a general rule, you don’t snoop through Keigo’s things – he’s a clean freak, first of all, the apartment he keeps you in minimalistic with everything in its correct spot. It’s classy and pretty, sure, but it’s boring, and can you really be blamed for wanting to explore after a few weeks cooped up in this penthouse?

Certainly not – which is how you find yourself tiptoeing into Keigo’s bedroom – he’d brought up the idea of sharing a bed multiple times only to be outright refused by you, and so he kept his things in this separate room. And it wasn’t explicitly off-limits, your captor never actually telling you that you couldn’t venture in. And so here you are, opening up the tall, wooden cabinet in the corner of the room and immediately sucking in a sharp breath at what you find.

You’d known Keigo had stalked you, the confession slipping from his lips early on into your captivity and the evidence difficult to deny.

(How else could he have known all your preferences before you ever voice them, knowing the way you like your morning drink, the products you use in the shower, hell, even the way you sleep – getting the pillows you like, pajamas similar to your own, even the type of sheet you prefer.)

You’d known, sure, but this – this is something else entirely. The cabinet’s housing a variety of items that send a chill down your spine because they’re yours.

An old bottle of perfume sits on the corner, the brand name smudged off from wear, and you bite your lip as you notice it’s still got just a bit left, though not nearly the amount you remember when it’d gone missing a few months ago. Your nose scrunches at the thought of him using your perfume, and bile rises in the back of your throat as you start imagining exactly how it’d been used, for what purpose and how often for that much to be gone.

There’s a few old lip balms sitting there, organized by flavor – cherry at the right, then melon, then mint, then peach and coconut. You don’t bother looking at them closely, too nervous to find signs of usage from someone other than you. (Which is good: the mint flavored Chapstick’s missing a chunk, with what looks like teeth marks sunken into the material.)

There’s an old hairbrush you thought you’d left at a friend’s place, still a few tufts of hair left between the bristles, though something seems to be crusted against the handle, and you wince at the thought of what that could possibly be. You’re scared, really, your heart screaming at you to stop searching, begging you to not look deeper because you don’t want to know what else he’s stolen from you, but your mind urges you to keep going, some sort of sick urge to know exactly what he’s taken, why he’s taken it.

(Though, you think you already know – the way he leans in close to smell you when he thinks he’s being subtle is telling, as is the way he has you sort out your used period products into a separate waste container, telling you that it's because the pads he gives you are compostable. You’ve seen the way the bags linger, though, staying in his bathroom, blood sometimes sitting under his nails when he emerges, eyes dilated and licking his lips at you.)

But as soon as you spot the photographs, you crumble.

Of course you’d known he was stalking you, following your every move and watching you at your most vulnerable, but somehow this is worse – there’s dozens of them, stacked neatly in piles that you can’t even begin to understand. Leafing through them with shaking fingers, they only seem to get worse and worse, images of you laying on your couch, cooking, doing your makeup, changing into your bathrobe, sleeping, and oh god, there’s even one of you on your bed, legs spread and fingers thrusting and rubbing and oh god you’re going to be sick-

The photographs fall from your fingertips as you shakily take a few steps back, the sound of the front door opening and Keigo’s call of I’m home making panic swim in your veins. He’s quick to come find you, asking you in a voice that’s edging on concerned where you are, but when he steps into his bedroom and spots you against the far wall, hands covering your mouth and the wooden door open and askew, Keigo’s clenching his teeth, jaw working.

Oh, is all he has to say, and it snaps you out of your horror.

Oh? That’s it? That’s fucking it, Keigo? What – what is this? You’re sick, a sick freak! Why do you have my stuff? What’s wrong with you? You’re yelling, pushing yourself further against the wall, and he can only frown, irritation and worry eating away at him because god, hearing you so upset is physically hurting him but there’s nothing he can do.

You weren’t supposed to see that, it’s, uh… He trails off, mind racing and panicking as he tries to think of what to say, but you don’t let the silence sit for long.

There’s something wrong with you, you’re a fucking monster! You think you’re a hero? Stalking some poor civilian, stealing her shit, photographing her while she’s sleeping? You’re disgusting, a horrible, twisted, sick creep! Stay away from me!

You’re crawling backwards away from him as he comes towards you, his hands in front of him as a sign of peace. You’re crying, he can see, and it only makes his chest ache more, shame and self-loathing away at him because you’re right – he’s sick in the head, he knows it, but he can’t help it.

I know, I know, calm down, you’re going to hurt yourself if you don’t stop crying, angel –

It's the wrong thing to say and he immediately knows it, because you give him a glare that makes something sharp dig into his heart, so much so that he physically clutches at his chest, wincing and averting his eyes from yours.

I hate you, Keigo, you whisper, and it makes something ugly come from his throat, a mix between a gasp and a whimper. I hate you I hate you I hate you.

He’s frozen for a moment, before swallowing, nodding his head and blinking the tears out of his eyes. I know, he starts, before turning on his heel and walking towards the doorway to the bedroom. I know you hate me, but you’re stuck with me.

And with that he walks to the front door, slamming it behind him and leaving the apartment empty. You stay curled up on the ground for a few minutes, still crying and hiccupping, the influx of emotion making your head ache. You’d been here for weeks now, and you thought you’d moved on from these crying episodes, from these emotional outbursts, but something about the photos had opened the floodgates.

After another ten minutes, you shakily get up, still rubbing at your eyes and avoiding looking at the wooden cabinet. You all but sprint to your own bed – the bed he gave you, at least – and curl up on top of it, letting your eyes shut and exhaustion fall over you. It’s not until you wake a few hours later that you notice Keigo still hasn’t returned home yet.

That was odd – he’s not on shift, and it was the middle of the night by now. Where was he? Shaking your head, flashes of the photographs race through your head, forcing you to stop thinking of Keigo. The night is quiet as you make yourself something small to eat – a piece of bread and a small amount of the low-fat butter Keigo eats, the apartment still eerily quiet.

You fall into a restless slumber soon after, your dreams filled with the sensation of something – someone – watching over your sleeping form.

When you awake, there’s still no sign of him – everything’s quiet and empty, and you bite your lip, equal parts relieved that he’s nowhere in sight but also slightly concerned. The feeling looms over you as the day slips away, his presence still gone. It’s not until two days later that Keigo finally returns home, and by that point the paranoia at his absence leaves you perking up when you hear the faint jingling of keys.

You’re immediately on your feet, practically tripping as you run to the front door, eager for him to return, eager to not be all alone and scared – something you’d realized about a day ago. You’d actually been afraid of his absence. Perhaps it was survival, wanting to make sure you had enough food and someone with the locks to all the keys that’d be able to let you out, or perhaps it was that you needed him. Maybe you needed some human contact, the total silence and your inability to contact anyone driving you stir crazy.

Regardless, you wait with eager anticipation as Keigo opens the door, those yellow eyes immediately catching yours, his expression carefully neutral though you can see something behind the practiced apathy. It’s relief, you think, and something else – something more desperate, something more vulnerable, something that makes you launch yourself into his arms, nearly knocking the wind out of him as he stares wildly down at you, shock written all across his face.

He’d expected that you’d be relieved that he came home, happy to have your source of food and care back, but not this excited – he swallows, frantically trying to not focus on the way your body is pressing against his and how he can feel all of you, instead letting his arms hesitantly wrap around you, not wanting to scare you.

You’re saying his name, he realizes, and he furrows his brows, closing his eyes and letting the sound ring through his ears. It’s wrong to be enjoying your clearly distraught state and he knows it, but he can’t help it – you’ve never initiated physical contact like this before, and is it really such a crime to be enjoying it?

I’m here, angel, ‘m here, he tells you, petting a hand over your hair and letting you squeeze him tighter. Please never leave me again, Keigo, please!

You’re begging him, he realizes, and it forces him to hug you just a bit tighter, his wings coming down to join the hug to. Closing his eyes again, Keigo lets out a slow, deep sigh, relishing in the way you’re clinging to him for comfort, begging him to never leave you for a moment.

And as he whispers a small I’m yours, I’ll never leave you again, you can only nod against his chest, disgusted with yourself for this display of your dependence on him. Because really, when had you become so fond of your captor? The photographs are still on the ground in his bedroom, all the things he's stolen from you sitting in that damned cabinet, but you find yourself not caring.

As you breathe in the now familiar smell of his cologne, hear his heart pounding away in his chest, you find that you don’t care about anything, really – because perhaps what he’s been saying along is really true.

Maybe you are in need of protection, needing him to provide for you. Because you’d been left alone for three days, and what do you have to show for it? Panic, loneliness, fear that he’d left you behind? Maybe you really are just as weak as he makes you out to be – and as you slowly pull back from the hug, you find yourself ever so briefly being thankful for him.

Thankful that you’ve finally, finally found where you belong: by Keigo’s side, letting him fawn over you and keep you locked up like some prized pet.

OVERALL DANGER:

6/10

Keigo is less dangerous and more paranoid. He has so many alter egos and warring identities that once you come along, encouraging him to just be Keigo around you rather than Pro Hero Hawks or PLF Hawks, he can’t let you slip away.

There’s something about you that doesn’t leave his mind – perhaps it’s your mannerisms, your looks, the way you speak, how you walk and how you smell and how you think. Maybe it’s some twisted form of fate, or some long-repressed part of his quirk that’s beginning him to finally find a companion, a mate, someone to share himself with.

Regardless, once Keigo’s obsession forms, he’s a lost cause – he’s thinking of you constantly, unable to stop his mind from wandering into idle thoughts of what you’re doing or how you’re feeling. He finds himself unconsciously trailing behind you, watching over you from above with those sharp eyes of his narrowed in on your form, studying and memorizing the curves of your body underneath your clothing, the way you walk ingrained into him so deeply that when he closes his eyes all he sees is you.

His paranoia grows as his obsession does, too, the worrying realization that you’re weak making it difficult for him to ever part from you, anxiety swimming in his gut because what if you get hurt and he isn’t there to help you? What if you get into trouble and he isn’t there to swoop and be your savior?

(Some sick, twisted part of him almost wishes you would run into trouble, just so he could put himself into the position of being your knight in shining armor, of making you swoon for him, feeling the way you’d be so very grateful and want to make it up to him in any way you could. He forces the thought down, disgusted with himself for fantasizing about you being in danger, but during long nights where he tosses and turns in his too-empty and too-cold bed, the thought of you looking at him in such awe and gratitude makes something warm, wet, and shameful throb to life between his legs.)

He does eventually kidnap you, yes, but as time passes you’ll find that slowly you’ll stop caring about how he keeps you trapped by his side, how he controls your every day life, how he forces you into all sorts of loungey, comfortable clothing that always smells like him. Because really, Keigo is awfully pathetic – he thinks he’s good at hiding just how badly you affect him, but you can see the way he perks up when you enter a room, looking so hopefully and lovesick as he gazes at you that it almost hurts.

You’ll be able to tell how his heart is racing in his chest when you get close to him, his breath turning ragged and his palms so sweaty that when he wipes them on his pants they leave wet marks. It’s pathetic, sad, cute, and as time passes with Keigo as the only person in your life, slowly you’ll begin wondering if being loved by him isn’t bad.

Is what Keigo can give you – protection, adoration, reliability, devotion – really so bad? Is it so bad to just be loved?

And Keigo will be there waiting for you once you finally come around, his hands trembling as he hugs you, burying his face into your neck and you swear you feel something wet against your skin, his tears tickling you as his shoulders shake. He just loves you, and how cruel can you be to reject him, to leave him without the only person he’s ever cared for?

How could you be such a monster?

#yandere bnha #yandere mha #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere my hero academia #yandere hawks #yandere keigo takami #hawks x reader #_lee's profiles #_keigo takami #_bnha

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dovkss · 10 months

Text

Dumb Bitch

word count: 5.8k

summary: after you pine after him for so long with no luck, Katsuki finally decides to take you as his; thanks to his best friend.

warning: 18+; mean dom! katsuki; dirty talk (ish); oral (m receiving); rough sex; spitting; choking; breath play; degradation; hair pulling; manipulation; dacryphilia; edging; size kink; misogyny; yandere tendencies; kinda ooc, I was having a lot of fun with this one; kinda dubcon-ish?, reader is drunk for the most part; katsuki is an ass; poor eijiro won’t take no for an answer and ends up getting fucked over bc of it; katsuki and ei are basically frenemies

all characters are aged up !!

a/n: my first published fic on this blog omg !! sorry for any mistakes or anything, I kinda rushed this but I enjoyed making this, hope you enjoy reading it :)

Kirishima stood in the middle of his room with his phone in his hand as a mischievous grin tugged at the corners of his lips. He knew of your little crush on his best friend and he couldn’t help but want to play cupid. He had the perfect plan, all he needed to do now was execute it. Sure, he knew Bakugou's disdain for you ran deep, but he also couldn't shake off the nagging feeling that there could be something more.

Dialing your number, he chuckled to himself, imagining the reaction he’d get out of you. It wasn't long before the ringback tone was cut off by the call connecting. Immediately you greeted him with a voice filled with joy, as usual.

“Hi, Kiri!” you greeted.

“Hey hey! How’s it going?” he asked.

You hummed in delight. He heard tiny giggles in the background. “Great,” you exclaimed. “The girls and I are having a sleepover right now… if you wanna talk to Mina, she’s right here- fuck!”

From the sound of it, you were hit as a sign to shut up. Kirishima chuckled at your guys’ antics. “Well, this is easy enough knowing you’re all in one place! I’m throwing a little get-together this weekend, I want you all to be there!”

It got a little quiet on the other end of the line, the only thing being heard is some shuffling and slight whispers.

“Hmm, who’s all gonna be there?” you asked curiously.

Kirishima smiled. “He’s gonna be there.”

He could almost hear the collective gasp that came from you and your friends. Then it went dead silent. You muted yourself. The redhead imagined your guys’ squeals.

You cleared your throat, going back to trying to act normal, and unmuted yourself. “Count us in, Kiri!” you exclaimed. “We wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

Everything was going to plan. You and he said your goodbyes before the call ended. Kirishima couldn’t help but wear a satisfied grin. He knew he had sparked a glimmer of hope within you. The idea of igniting a connection between you and Bakugou excited him. But it was soon dampened when Bakugou stormed into the room with a couple of cans of soda in his hands.

“What the hell was that about?” he asked.

Kirishima knew he couldn’t lie to him. Bakugou knows when he lies. Bakugou set the sodas on the wood floor and grabbed two cans. He tossed one to his friend and opened up his own. He sat on Kirishima’s bed, facing him, awaiting an answer.

Kirishima popped his soda open and took a sip. The room was filled with tense silence, even if it was for only a moment. “I just invited some last-minute people to the party,” he said.

True.

Bakugou’s vermillion eyes narrowed. His intense gaze radiated intense annoyance. “Who?” he questioned some more.

Kirishima winced playfully at Bakugou’s usual harsh response. He would rather intend to pique the ash blonde’s curiosity rather than ignite his ire.

"Don't worry about it, bro. We'll see everybody there!"

For the first time, Bakugou wanted to be wrong. He shook his head in disapproval before chugging down some more of his soda. "You're a fucking idiot, Kirishima. I thought you knew better than to invite her."

Kirishima squinted at Bakugou. "I get that you don't like her, but you're also being way too quick to judge. Get to know her a little better, she isn't who you think she is."

Bakugou scoffed, his voice filled with disbelief. "You think I would waste my time on someone like her? You should know me better than that."

"I just think that maybe-"

"That fucking shallow, attention-seeking whore. I have no interest in girls like her."

Kirishima's expression softened, his voice gentle but firm. "Not cool, man. She's still my friend," he started, "and I think you watch too many movies. Not every girl that cares about how they look on the outside is some dumb bitch."

Bakugou's scowl deepened, frustration etched on his face. "I don't need you playing matchmaker, Kirishima. I can take care of myself."

Kirishima sighed and raised his hands in defeat. "Fine! I'll let it go!" He then offered a small smile to defuse the tension. "Let's focus on getting this shit ready. We need to go out and buy some cups and food and... whatever else I can't think of on the spot right now!"

Bakugou grumbled in agreement. "Whatever. Let's get this shit over with."

Your shoes clicked softly against the polished floor of the library as you anxiously scanned the aisles of the bookshelves. You were searching for Kirishima and you were in a bit of a rush.

Earlier that morning while you were packing your purse, you realized your beloved wallet, adorned with sparkling rhinestones, wasn't on your vanity. You would never dare forget it; you relied on it because it had every card you could think of in there. And some backup cash.

You rummaged through other bags and drawers, panic rising within you. It was one of your most treasured possessions, something your mother gave you as a gift before you left for college. You desperately needed that wallet, especially now, with an important event just hours away.

Realization struck you like a bolt of lightning. You remembered opening it to pay the pizza delivery man at Kirishima's house the previous day when you were studying with him and the girls. You must've left it behind. You were so stupid!

With a sigh of frustration, you dialed Kirishima's number from your backup flip phone since your main phone was dead. Your fingers trembled lightly as you held it up to your ear, you hoped beyond hope that he had seen it. You didn't expect him to pick up because he wouldn't possibly recognize the number but he did.

"Hello?" he answered.

"Kiri! Hi, how are you? Good? That's great," you greeted eagerly, "um, do you by any chance know if I left my wallet at your place?" You rocked back and forth as you shoved your purse into the front seat of your car, putting your key into the ignition.

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line. "Oh, that's yours? The one with a bunch of glitter… crap on it? Yeah, I have it on me right now actually." he said.

You let out a sigh of relief and smiled. "Great, can I pick it up from your right now? I'm kind of in a hurry..."

He chuckled. "Of course! I'll be on campus for a couple more hours, just swing by the library."

With a renewed sense of purpose, you drove to campus. It took you way longer than usual due to traffic, but you made it nonetheless.

You made it to the library and began scanning the room, looking for your friend. The scent of old books filled the air, and the hushed whispers of students studying added an aura of calmness.

You spotted Kirishima in a corner, engrossed in a thick textbook, writing down notes as well, and you made your way toward him. As you approached, your eyes inadvertently fell upon a figure sitting next to him doing the same.

A slightly taller man with spiky blonde hair. You could tell by the way he sat, he was undeniably arrogant. Katsuki Bakugou.

Your heart skipped a beat and a nervous flutter ran through you. You'd heard rumors of his fiery personality. His ability to put anyone who dared to cross his path in their place. You were very curious about him.

"Kiri!" you chirped, flashing a bright smile.

Kirishima looked up from his book and returned the kind gesture. He put his finger up to his lips, reminding you that they were still in a library. You quietly apologized and laughed at yourself.

"It's in my bag, hold on," he whispered. He picked up his backpack from the floor next to him, unzipping it to go through the contents inside.

Your gaze wandered across the library. You tried your best to not look at Bakugou. It was hard not to, though, he was very handsome. Finally, you gave in and turned your attention to him.

You offered a tentative smile. "Hi there! I don't think we've met before."

Bakugou's piercing gaze met yours. He was unimpressed and regarded you as if your presence irritated him. Unbeknownst to you, it did.

Your smile faltered for a moment, but you refused to let his cold demeanor deter you. "I'm a friend of Kirishima's-"

"I know who you are," he responded curtly, his tone laced with thinly veiled contempt.

You felt your cheeks heat up. His voice was so intimidating and so attractive. "Katsuki Bakugou, right? I've heard a lot about you."

His dirty look became more prominent. "Yeah, I've heard enough about you too."

Your heart sank a little at his words. What did he hear? You weren't aware of any rumors of you or anything, and you were kind to everyone. The dummies, weirdos, everyone!

Kirishima chimed in. "Be nice, man," he said as he got up with your wallet in his hand. He handed it to you and you took it from him.

"Thanks so much, Kiri," you said, a sense of relief washing over you. "You have no idea how much I rely on this thing."

He shook his head, his smile showcasing his sharp teeth. "Don’t we all!"

You nodded, your gaze fixed on your reflection in your little compact mirror. "You saved the day, yet again, Kiri. I owe you one."

Ever since then, you got to know more about Bakugou thanks to Kirishima. How despite what many would believe, he's organized, and a clean freak. How much he hates being around kids yet are so great with them. Just how well he can play the drums or cook.

You thought you were subtle but it was obvious that you longed for Bakugou. It wasn't your fault he was everything you wanted in a man.

He had it all. Hardworking, determined, and confident. It was so sexy. The only problem was that he didn't seem interested at all. If anything, he seemed to despise you. To him, you were just an annoying bug that kept coming back even after being swatted at.

You wanted to win him over. When you knew you would be around him, you purposefully dressed a little sexier. Bending over to grab things even while wearing the shortest skirt that barely covered your ass and tight shirts to enhance your chest and waist.

Bakugou didn't even spare you a sympathetic glance. But you kept going. Tonight was the party and this was your last chance. If you couldn't even do as much as strike up a conversation with him, you told yourself you'd give up. You were too pretty for all this effort to be put into a man. But god, he was so hot.

Your anticipation grew as you and your friends approached Kirishima's house. The usually quiet neighborhood was transformed into a hive of activity. Cars lined the streets and the sound of laughter and music spilled from the open windows. What was meant to be a "get-together" had turned into a Project X party.

"Todoroki, could you go any damn slower?" Mina complained, her seat belt already off.

"You want me to run over these people?" he asked. You giggled, knowing his question was literal.

Mina groaned in annoyance, mumbling a small 'no.' Momo was in the front seat next to her boyfriend. "Don't listen to her, she's just a little impatient."

Finally, Todoroki got you guys to the front of the house. You were the first to get out, followed by Mina coming out behind you. Momo kissed her boyfriend. Then gave him another kiss. Then another.

Mina whined loudly. "Oh my god, Momo! He's just going to park the car! He's not leaving you, come on!"

You leave them behind in silence. As you pushed open the front door, the energy hit you like a tidal wave. Every inch of the house was packed with people, bodies swaying to the rhythm of the music. The air was thick with alcohol, weed, and the hum of people trying to converse over the loud music.

You looked around, mouth agape. You didn't even notice Mina and Momo by your side. Their eyes widened at the sight before them.

Mina leaned in closer to be heard above the noise. "This place is insane!" she exclaimed, her voice barely audible amidst the chaos.

Momo nodded in agreement. "I don't think any of us expected this. Kirishima sure knows how to throw a party."

Your eyes scanned the room in search of the boy. You caught a glimpse of his familiar red hair through the crowd and motioned for your friends to follow.

It was a challenge to move through people. Your face scrunched up in disgust as the air grew warmer. The smell finally getting to you, it was gross. Sweaty bodies rubbed against you as you made your way through. You gagged. The once cozy house had transformed into something completely unrecognizable.

Finally reaching Kirishima's side, you tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around and greeted you. It took you a moment before realizing he was shirtless. And his hair wasn't done how it usually was. It was messy and wet.

"What happened here? This was supposed to be a small get-together!" you asked, evidently in disbelief.

Kirishima laughed. "I know! It got a bit out of hand! But hey, more people, more fun, right? By the way, you look gorgeous!"

You wore a corset dress. The bodice was designed with pretty lacing and the mini skirt boasted a slit on each side. The white set was complete with thick stilettos and makeup that accentuated your natural features.

You felt your face get hot and you smiled, giving him a little twirl to show off your outfit. Kirishima dog whistled playfully and handed you a plastic red cup. You looked inside and sniffed it. Alcohol. Strong, strong alcohol.

Taking what Kirishima said, you and your friends were immersed in the lively atmosphere of the party. You all danced; twirling and spinning, laughter blending in with the melodies as you lost yourself.

With a drink in each of your guys' hands, your inhibitions further dissolved, and you found yourselves caught in a whirlwind of euphoria. You clinked cups, toasting to the night, and gulped down the concoction.

Your mind was no longer consumed by thoughts of Bakugou. The weight of your infatuation was lifted, replaced with a sense of liberation. You reveled in the present moment, finding comfort exactly where you were.

Time lost its grip and you were having fun. By the time you were worn out, your cheeks were flushed and the warmth of the alcohol coursed through your veins, the effects beginning to take a toll on your mind and body. What was just an exhilarating atmosphere now seemed overwhelming, your energy dwindling with each passing moment. Your giggles faded and were replaced with yawns that you couldn't stifle.

Kirishima approached you with a concerned look. He gently placed a hand on your head, stroking your forehead with his thumb. "You are exhausted..."

You closed your eyes for a tiny bit of rest and your ability to hold yourself up became harder and harder. Kirishima shooed away some random person off the couch to make some room for you. He helped you sit up and made sure you were comfortable before going to look for his blonde best friend.

"Bakugou!" Kirishima called out over the music. He approached the guy who sat in the corner of the party, a group of people Kirishima had never seen before was surrounding his friend.

He pushed through the small crowd. "I need your help."

Bakugou blinked at the lack of explanation. "With what?"

Kirishima nudged his head toward where you were sitting. Bakugou's eyes followed only to see your state. You looked sick and stiff, almost as if you were dead. He groaned, taking a swig of his beer. "Not my problem-"

"She's fucking tired! Just help me take her to my room so she can get some rest!" Kirishima's expression didn't waver as he pressed on. "I know we aren't exactly getting along right now, but I can't do this alone."

A mixture of irritation and reluctance flickered across Bakugou's face. His jaw clenched, the internal conflict was visible in his tense posture. After a brief moment, he finally relented.

"If she pukes on me, I'm killing both of you," he grumbled.

Together, Kirishima and Bakugou made their way through the crowded room. Bakugou downed the last of his drink before tossing it somewhere he couldn't see. He watched Kirishima pull you up from the couch, your tired form leaning on him for support and your eyes struggling to stay open.

Bakugou's mind wandered back to all the instances when you had made your attempts to catch his attention. He'd seen your efforts, dismissing them as frivolous and uninteresting. But up until recently, recognition stirred within him.

“F-fuck! Katsuki!”

The boy groaned in response. His thrusts didn’t let up even for a moment. He had her in doggy style, making sure to go deep inside her with his long strokes. His hands pressed down on her hips to keep her in place as her upper half wriggled around in pleasure.

Bakugou was turned off by her horrible acting. It was worse than a pornstar’s. At this rate, he knew he wouldn’t cum at all despite her already cumming for the first time.

The girl wasn’t ugly, she just wasn’t his type. Too vanilla for someone like him. He needed to rough someone up without worry. To grab someone by the neck and push their head into his pillow. To make someone take his big dick in full as they plead for mercy.

You were that someone.

He imagined pulling your hair and lifting you against him, your sweating bodies pressed against each other. How he’d throw you back down and pound into you from behind relentlessly. How you’d look back at him, unrecognizable with your makeup smudged and messed up, his hand rubbing along your back, up and down.

“Please… too big!” you’d bed.

He wanted badly to shake those thoughts away but he couldn’t. He closed his eyes to imagine more of what he’d do to you. Before he knew it, the thoughts set him off.

He pulled out of the girl and stroked a bit before cumming on her backside. She breathed in and out heavily, trying to catch her breath. She also began to touch herself so she can cum a second time

Bakugou didn’t help. He was busy thinking about you. Thinking about your lips, eyes, curves, and smell. You. You. You. He wanted you all for himself. But he knew your type; sweet on the outside, secretly hoping to be given a chance to play others to get what you wanted. He wasn’t going to play that game.

That night haunted him for weeks. When you came around, he went out of his way to avoid coming in contact with you. In his room, he would hear your voice ask: “What’s wrong with him?”

Kirishima would respond: “He’s been this like for a minute, but I’m not pushing it.”

Later that night, after you left, Kirishima knocked on Bakugou’s door. In one of his hands, he had a bowl of food that he cooked the day before.

“You’ve been in your room all day, bro! You need to help me set up!” he said.

Bakugou examined the boxing glove on his left hand. He wiggled his fingers only to realize it was way too stiff. Now he needed new gloves.

“M’ not hungry.”

Kirishima opened the door anyway and approached the boy, putting the dish on his desk. He looked at Bakugou and crossed his arms. "Something botherin' you, man?"

Bakugou huffed. Kirishima may have been a little slow, but he wasn't stupid. He could tell when his best friend is off.

Kirishima sighed. "(Y/n) and I noticed that you've been kinda distant lately. You barely come around anymore."

"Why is she always mentioned whenever we talk?"

Kirishima was taken aback. He raised an eyebrow.

Bakugou finally stood up, looking him dead in the eyes. "It's obvious you have a thing for her.

Kirishima stammered, unsure of how to respond. "I mean- I care about her as a friend, just like I do you. There's nothing more to it."

"You're always by her side, looking out for her, protecting her. Like you're fucking obsessed with her! It's pathetic!"

Kirishima shook his head in disbelief. "Just because I'm being a good friend doesn't mean I have ulterior motives. If you can't see that, then maybe you're the one with the problem here!"

Bakugou's body blazed with irritation. "You're fucking jealous that she pays more attention to me than she does to you."

Kirishima's jaw tightened. Immediately Bakugou knew he struck a nerve.

"Face it, Kirishima. She isn't interested, so back off. You're nothing compared to me."

Without another word, Kirishima turned on his heel, standing tall and steps firm as he walked away from the blonde. "Party is in three hours. Be ready."

Bakugou couldn't help but get another jab in as he listened to Kirishima mumble insults before slamming the door shut behind him.

"Stop worrying about me and start worrying about how you're gonna get your bitch off my dick!"

A wry smile formed on Bakugou’s lips as he recalled the telltale signs that hadn’t gone unnoticed before. Kirishima’s subtle glances in your direction, the way his eyes would light up whenever you entered the room, how his cheeks turned pink whenever you laughed at his jokes.

Bakugou knew his friend wouldn’t admit that he liked you, but he also knew you didn't know. You were nothing but a dumb bitch.

As they reached Kirishima's room, Bakugou held the door open, allowing Kirishima to guide you inside due to your unsteady steps. The room was untouched, bathed in a warm, inviting glow like it always had. It offered a haven of tranquility, opposite of the chaotic activities going on downstairs.

Kirishima led you to his bed, helping you settle down with gentle care. "Thanks. I'll stay with her for a bit. You can head back to the party if you want-"

He was interrupted by the sound of glass breaking. His eyes widened. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He got up and rushed out the door without an explanation, only a ‘be right back!’

Bakugou watched him go and contemplated leaving himself. Then he looked at you, your chest softly rising up and down and you breathe. He sighed and went to close the door before sitting down next to your resting body. He traced his fingertips down the side of your arm.

“You want me so bad, don't you?" he asked. But it was more of a rhetorical question.

Suddenly you nodded softly. "Y-Yeah..."

Oh, you were awake. Bakugou's eyes furrowed.

"More than anything..."

"Then prove it," he growled. "Prove to me that you're worthy of my attention."

Barely conscious, you didn't understand what he meant, but as the alcohol faded, your sense came back to you. Your willingness to do anything to win Bakugou over was back and took over your mind in an instant.

You began to unbutton your shirt, revealing your lacy bra. Bakugou watched you with a cold, calculating gaze.

"You think that's enough?" he scoffed. "You really are a dumb bitch who doesn't know anything."

Your eyes filled with tears. You'd never been spoken to like that before. Yet, something about it made you hot. His coldness and brutality made you rub your thighs together.

"Please, Bakugou," you pleaded.

Bakugou then shook his head as he began to knead your thigh. "Call me Katsuki."

You smiled. Finally, you were getting what you wanted. He saw you. He noticed you. He's into you.

"Please, Katsuki," you whispered. "Tell me what you want me to do..."

His hand kept moving all over your body. Your heart pounded in your chest, scared of what his response may be. But he never said anything, he just eyed you.

Looking you up and down, his index and ring fingers grazing over your lips. Suddenly, he popped them into your mouth. As if it was a reflex, you wrapped your lips around them, sucking on them sightly. He caught you off guard when he pressed against the bottom of your tongue, making you gag. You turned your head, hoping he'd pull away.

Bakugou chuckled. "Get up for me, baby, and strip."

He let you sit up but not before wiping your saliva off his fingers onto your cheek. You slowly stood in front of him, holding onto his shoulders for support. He leaned back, trying to get a better view of your full body.

Slowly you began to remove your clothes. You felt exposed. Way more vulnerable than you ever had before. You avoided his hungry gaze.

"You know..." he began.

You looked up at him, not stopping the motions of getting undressed.

"Kirishima likes you."

You smiled. "I like him too. He's a good friend."

Bakugou wanted to laugh in your face. Your naivety was cute. He decided to be nice and only nodded in agreement. He watched intensely as the article of clothing dropped to the floor. His eyes studied your undergarments. It was a matching set, in pink. Of course. He felt himself twitch.

He sat up and extended his arm out to your cheek, lightly caressing it. "That's not what I meant."

In a flash, he let go of your face to grab a fistful of your hair, pulling it back roughly. You whimper, your eyes shut tight. Your hands follow his actions, trying to pry him off.

"Aah! Katsuki, it hurts!" you winced in pain.

"Awe. Awe, it hurts? Yeah?" he mocked your tone before chuckling. "Can't even handle a little hair pulling."

He stood up, towering over you. He pushed you down slowly to your knees, praising you for your compliance. You shivered due to your bare body being exposed to the cold air.

With his other hand, he unbuckled his pants and unzipped himself. You listened to his pants fall and lightly bit your lip. Suddenly your face was pushed forward, being pressed into something hard.

You opened your eyes and looked up at Bakugou. You could see his rock-hard cock through his clean underwear. It curved slightly to the side and he was awfully big... and long... and thick.

You weren't a virgin but you weren't very experienced either. You'd never seen one so big before. You doubted that you were able to take that in any capacity. Not in your mouth, not in your pussy either, but you wanted so badly to impress him.

You rubbed your cheek against his dick, making him breathe out slowly. Bakugou pushed your head aside, harsher than he expected, and pulled down his underwear. He grabbed you by your cheeks and looked you in the eyes.

You were so beautiful like that. On his knees for him. Under him, below him; where you were meant to be.

Grabbing his cock, he slaps it against your face before pressing it to your lips. You open up, allowing him to smoothly slip it in.

"Ahh... shit..." he groaned as the warmth of your mouth took in his cock. You try to work your tongue around him as best as you could, his cock barely being able to fit in your mouth.

He gripped your hair in his fist as he began to move against your face, making you choke. The lipgloss you wore had been smeared, staining your mouth; your mascara ran down your cheeks as your eyes watered every time his cock slammed the back of your throat.

"Look at you. Eagerly swallowing my cock- fuck! Such a slut," he sighed.

Bakugou began to go faster, not giving you any time to take a break. You'd never been face fucked before, let alone roughly. Your gagging became more audible whenever your nose brushed against his pubes. You needed air, but he didn't give you any time to take a break.

You slapped his thigh a couple of times, trying to signal him. He understood; he just didn't care. Finally, he showed some mercy and pulled your hair back to allow you to breathe.

You gasped and cough. You let out unsteady breaths and it was hard for you to catch up to your normal pace of breathing. This didn't last very long though as Bakugou pried open your jaw, shoving his fingers in your mouth once again, this time reaching your throat. You choked again, more tears falling from your face. He kept his hand there for a few seconds, studying your pathetic attempt to please him. When you began to cough again, he pulled out.

"Impressive. Where'd you learn that?"

You felt your body growing even more tired than it was before. You opened your mouth to breathe, only for him to spit directly into it.

"Swallow."

You obeyed. His saliva slid down your throat with ease as you swallowed, and then you opened your mouth to show him. He smirked and stood up. You watched him lift you onto Kirishima's bed, positioning your head to dangle off the bed, facing the closed door.

You felt his tall, strong body leaning over yours as his mouth explored every inch of your skin. His fingers, still soaked with your saliva, slid off your panties and ran along your entrance. You were undeniably wet, and it was embarrassing. How easily you got wet. Bakugou thought it was adorable.

At first, his fingers rubbed just on top of your throbbing clit. You moan out softly, your hands moving down to his hair, playing with it a little. Your back arched at the sensation, causing him to push down your hips to keep you still.

"Look at yourself whoring out for me. You should be ashamed," he said.

He was right. You should have been ashamed. But... you weren't. You couldn't think straight, all you wanted in that moment was for him to be inside of you.

You lifted your head to watch him only for it to be put back down as his lips came up to kiss your neck. His fingers went faster, and you felt yourself squeeze around him. More moans came out of you as you concentrated.

His kisses, his fingers, his hot breath, his body.

Kisses, fingers, hot breath, body.

Kisses, fingers, breath, body.

Kisses, fingers, breath-

"M' gonna cum!" you cry out.

Bakugou faced you, his sharp canines showing as he laughed at you. You threw your head back and he lowered his face to nibble on your neck. You mumbled out incoherent words, on the verge of cumming.

A loud moan comes out of your mouth and immediately Bakugou pulls out. Your eyes widen, looking at him.

"No, no, no," you whined.

He ignored you and slapped his juices-covered hand over your face, pushing your head down yet again. It was too much for you. The pain of the bite on your neck went unnoticed when he forced his hips in between your legs, pulling you against him. He lined up his swollen cock with your cunt, slapping it a little. You moaned as he got himself wet with your juices mixed in with his precum.

He entered you without a warning and you screamed at the discomfort. You put your hands on his chest, whining. "Go slow, please!"

His gaze at you visibly softened. "You want me to be gentle, hm?"

You nodded, swallowing thickly. "Y-yeah... yeah..."

He whined just like you did. "Yeah? You want me to be soft with you? Help you adjust to my big dick?"

You repeated yourself. He smiled, carefully moving some strands of hair from your face. "You're so cute."

He slammed into you, instantly making you wail. His thrusts were slow, but hard. It hurt so bad. You whine in pain as his fingers went down to play with your clit again, laying a couple of smacks on your cunt.

Tears streamed down your face. The pain was excruciating, unlike anything you'd ever felt before. Your cunt was already sensitive, now paired with Bakugou's hand around your throat, and the pain slowly letting up, you felt so good. You were in heaven.

Bakugou's groans mixed in with your moans filled the room along with the sound of his balls slapping against you as his thrusts became even harder, you couldn't help but be loud, it wasn't like anybody could hear you. Your pussy throbbed around his cock and your back began to arch. You felt yourself coming closer and closer to your orgasm. And he noticed it.

He slowed down a bit. You were a little grateful as you were finally able to take him comfortably. But you questioned his change of pace.

"You know," he panted, "Kirishima wants us together."

You continued to moan, only murmuring over and over again how big his dick was, barely listening.

"He always talked about me and you- ugh...! Getting together..." he revealed. "Probably something he wants the most..." He lifted your head, putting his forehead to yours. "Let's do him a favor, yeah?"

The tightness on your throat grew tighter, cutting off your airflow, and his thrusts started to become harder again. Your eyes widened as your body struggled under his.

He whispered in your ear while increasing the pace of his strokes. "Be mine, baby. Cum all over my cock."

So you did. Your legs began to shake as your lungs begged for oxygen. Your orgasm was intense, your body squirming uncontrollably. He groaned as your pussy clenched around him for the last time. To be fair, he let go of your throat and your head went flying back over the edge of the bed.

You were officially head over heels for him. You would do anything to stay with him, even if it meant sacrificing your happiness and well-being. And you had a feeling he knew this.

The doorknob of the bedroom turned and the door opened. "Someone broke the damn vase with the-"

Kirishima.

He examined the scene before him, his breaths slowly becoming inaudible and his heart pounding in his chest.

Bakugou’s gaze snapped towards Kirishima, a smirk flashing across his face. "Kirishima. We didn't expect you to come in."

Kirishima ignored him, only focusing on you. His eye twitched as he took note of your cock drunk daze. You smiled innocently at him, your chest pumping up and down deeply.

"Kiri... I don't owe you one anymore."

He clutched his hands together, his knuckles turning white.

"You dumb bitch."

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ghostsy · 5 months

Text

Smile For the Camera

WARNINGS: yandere, implied kidnapping, implied imprisonment, abuse of power, slight codependency, non-consensual implications, implied nsfw, implied forced pregnancy, lot of implications lol

A/N: been sitting in the drafts for a while, figured i should get smth out, hopefully it's alright ^^

read at your own discretion.

yandere ! BAKUGOU KATSUKI X READER

“Her eyes are up there, creep.”

She had to resist the urge to sigh, lip twisting in slight pity, watching the boy stammer out an apology as he fumbled with the mic at her chest. She scoffed internally. Was he supposed to put it on blindfolded? She turned to her lover, giving him a gentle, reassuring smile.

It’s okay. I’m okay.

Crimson irises met her own, hesitating a bit as his jaw tightened reflexively. He smacked his tongue against his teeth, rolling his eyes, and turned to the host who was shuffling through her cue cards. Memorizing her lines, it seemed.

“I don’t want any of that surprise shit, alright?” His voice was laced with the sort of irritation that would normally send her on full alert. They were in public right now, though, and callous, gruff reputation aside, he was no idiot, “We’ll walk out; I’m not fuckin’ kidding, we’ve done it before.”

The host laughed out his name–his hero name–nervously, “Of course not, sir. All of our questions were sent to your assistant for prior approval,” As she caught his unimpressed stare, she stumbled out another placation, “But, I mean–Of course, if you–you’re more than welcome to look over them again, sir.”

“Fuckin’ stop it with that–‘sir’--makes me feel old as shit.” Did it? That was news to her. He certainly liked it when it came from her lips. Her mind wandered to its most recent recollection. When she was forced to her knees, his hand at the back of her neck, pooling the tears from her eyes at the dip where her cheek met the pillow–she couldn’t remember what she’d done wrong that time.

Where he’d brought his lips to her ear, C’mon, voice rough and deep, Ask me nicely, now, And, raising his voice a few octaves to mock her, Please, sir. He huffed out an ugly laugh, Please give me your cock, sir. God, she hadn’t been able to walk straight for days, legs and dignity sore and bruised from the abuse–only one of which ever really seemed to recover.

“Of course, si–Of course. We’re on in–We’ll be ready in five, if that’s alright?” He gave the woman a curt nod, and she’d shuffled off to the stage to prepare, calling the intern tending to her to follow, a direction the boy took with palpable relief, eyes brushing her own apologetically before he hurried off.

“Hey,” The blonde’s attention was turned back to her, and he stalked forward, “Last one, alright?” He brought his hand to her cheek in comfort, though all she could think of was the ease at which he could snap her neck between his fingers without so much as blinking.

She shook herself from her thoughts, humming, and brought her hand to cup his own, leaning into his touch. “It’s alright,” At least I’m outside, she wanted to say, “Long as I’m with you, I’m alright.”

His eyes softened at her answer, and he opened his mouth to reply when the lights dimmed, catching his attention. His hand dropped to catch her own, lacing their fingers together, tightening with tension. She had to resist the urge to wince. Though entirely different in circumstance, she felt slight vindication for his fear, no matter how fleeting. She’d take what little wins she could get.

She was pulled back to reality by the tug of his hand, and let him lead her to the couch across from the host. Fuck. Looking out at the crowd, she remembered how much she really did hate these things. Hundreds of smiling faces, millions more behind the camera, all glinting with pity–for all the wrong reasons–and cooing at the sickeningly sweet story spun for the masses to cling to with glee, without question.

There was a call of her name, “And, how are you adjusting? After what you’ve been through,” What she’s been through. She suppressed a bitter laugh. As if it was all over, as if she was safe.

“It’s been hard, of course,” She’d rehearsed the lines in the mirror, and recited variations in numerous interviews before, “But I’m so grateful, you know,” That didn’t stop the tears that fought their way up her throat, “To have him by my side–he really is–he really,” God, the words felt like acid on her tongue, “He really is my hero.”

The crowd awed, and the host brought a hand to her chest, “How beautiful,” She caught his side eye–suspicious–and she squeezed his hand in reassurance, “The two of you–really the silver lining in an otherwise horrible happenstance.”

She laughed lightly, ignoring the burn in her chest, “I’m so grateful. I don’t know what–I couldn’t imagine what I’d do without him.” She moved to wrap her arm around his own, leaning into his shoulder. Time had conditioned the contact to feel like a sort of comfort.

The host smiled, and turned back to ask him a question, something about how he’d found her, how he’d saved her.

How had he found her? She remembered meeting him a few times before–she’d worked for the number one hero, his childhood friend–and he’d never spared her more than a cursory glance, and the exchange of brief, formal pleasantries while she sat in on their meetings, transcribing, taking notes, just doing her job.

“Was just doin’ my job,” Ha. Ironic. “S’what heroes do.” He looked at her for a moment, softly, and she wanted to tear his eyes out, “We save people and we fuckin’ win.” He gave his signature sharp, crooked smile, and the audience roared to life, hands clapping in misguided awe and appreciation.

How had he found her? What did she have that the millions of men and women and people that wanted him–that dreamed of him–didn’t? She wished she could erase it–tear out whatever part of her had captured his attention–maybe he’d have left her alone if she’d been able to kill it.

“The determination, the grit it must’ve taken,” The host started up again, “Years of searching, it’s truly amazing how you managed to save her.”

How had he saved her? He liked to remind her that that’s what he had done. She remembered being called into work late–a normal occurrence, but she still cursed herself for obliging that day–being met, not by her boss, but him. Maybe she would have said yes if he’d gone about it differently–if he’d taken her out on a date, brought her flowers, spoke to her softly and gently–but he wasn’t ever soft, and he wasn’t ever gentle.

“M’not a fuckin’ pussy, that’s how. I ain’t backin’ down from a challenge just ‘cause it’s hard.” Yeah. He never backed down from a challenge. Though, he never stopped to think that maybe a challenge was not a dare, not something to overcome, that maybe the challenge didn’t want to be a challenge at all. That this challenge didn’t want to be a conquest, that she wanted to be a person.

“And you,” The attention was back on her, “How strong you are,” She hated that look; everyone she met these days gave her that look, “The fear and pain you must’ve endured is unimaginable.” Well, she was half right, she supposed.

She was stupid to think she knew pain before–she didn’t know pain–not the kind of pain she’d come to call home these past years. The type of pain that came in the form of finger shaped burns, and ugly sticky white staining the inside of her thighs. The type of pain that was loud and angry and all consuming, that bruised her hips, rubbed her throat raw, left her aching and shaking and breaking. The type of pain that took and took and took until there was nothing left of her to give–and yet, still took more.

“Hopefully there’s some consolation,” The woman continued at her silence, “That the people who did this to you–who imprisoned you–have faced justice.”

She wanted to laugh until she screamed. She’d long been disillusioned with the idea of justice. Justice. Ha. What a joke. She’d made her peace with the hand she’d been dealt. Resigned herself to what cruel fate the god she didn’t believe in had bestowed upon her. Why then, why now, had he graced her with a window to her prison? She knew why. Subconsciously, her hand fell to trace along her stomach.

“It’s…relieving, to say the least.” She forced a laugh, and caught a look she took as approval on her warden’s face. “All I want to do now is settle down, move on…” She swallowed. Come on. You’ve done this a million times. “Start our family.”

He took his arm from her grip to wrap around her shoulders, flashing a sharp smile, “That’s my fuckin’ girl,” Her cheeks heated–more from annoyance than embarrassment–but the crowd awed all the same. “Strongest damn person I’ve ever met.”

Strong? That was a new one. Usually she’d get the opposite; weak, helpless, quirkless. Was she strong? She could find a million reasons to contradict the idea. Someone strong would’ve fought, would’ve kicked and screamed and cried until someone–anyone–listened to her, until she truly was free. She’d rolled over and shown her belly so easily, hadn’t she?

No. She did fight. She’d gone through all the kicking and screaming and crying she could. But the years had worn her down. She found it was easier–and less painful–to let him have his way. He could be soft when he had his way; he could be gentle when he had his way; she decided she liked it when he was soft and gentle. And so, he had his way.

Still. Someone, not her, could make the case that she couldn’t be strong at all, to go along with this farce. And to this person she’d point them to–

“The Hero Commission truly is an outstanding institution,” The universe had a sick sense of humor, didn’t it? “To keep a case like this–no leads–open so long,” The host smiled a smile with too many teeth, “We are so lucky to have the protection from such noble leaders.”

He replied, something about heroes and how great and strong and infallible they were. She was too busy fantasizing about how lovely the world would’ve been had it been turned to ash and dust all those years ago.

Because, honestly. How bad could the villains be? If it was a hero that had imprisoned her. A hero who had stolen her from her life and raped her and impregnated her all in the name of love. How bad could the villains be if it was the heroes who kept her trapped in this joke of a life? She decided she liked villains more than heroes. At the very least, they owned up to their crimes.

She turned to look at him, his sharp features, built like a tank, and yet, still entirely too pretty for the devastation he had wrought upon her. She couldn’t tell if he was a hero or a villain. She couldn’t tell if she hated him or if she loved him.

“I ain’t into all that sappy shit,” He started, “But, end of the day, I’m the luckiest fucker in the world havin’ her here with me. Wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.”

Both? Maybe it was both. Could you hate someone you loved? Could you love someone you hated? He lifted his arm to ruffle her hair, and she decided it didn’t matter. She’d long resigned herself to this fate; what was another resignation?

“No,” She turned as the audience roared to life, “Not a single thing.”

And she smiled for the camera.

#yandere bnha #yandere bakugou katsuki #yandere bakugou #yandere bakugo #yandere bakugo katsuki #yandere bakugou x reader #yandere bakugo x reader #yandere bakugou katsuki x reader #yandere bakugo katsuki x reader #yandere mha #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere my hero academia #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere katsuki

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thecuriousquest · 5 months

Text

Learning Opportunity

Yandere!Shouta Aizawa x Fem!Reader x Yandere!Hitoshi Shinso

Tag List: @issamomma @repostingmyfavs @chickennugnugnug

Warnings: Yandere themes, NSFW, non con touching, non con references, non con sex, brief non con fingering, pseudoincest/stepcest, abusive behavior, sexually abusive behavior, creepy step dad, creepy step brother, non consensual spanking, punishment spanking

Master List

—————————————————————————

It’s been at least three months since your mother passed away, leaving you with your deranged step father and somewhat creepy step brother. You do your best to avoid them, only coming out of your room when necessary, but it’s so difficult living with the two of them.

Your step dad usually comes into your room at night, sitting on your bed. You stiffen under the covers as he slides his hand along your back, smoothing calloused fingers over your soft flesh. He guides his hand along your lower back, dipping further and further until his fingers ghost the doughy hill of your ass.

You cry, a soft whimper escaping wet and parted lips.

He usually leaves once you start sobbing uncontrollably. Usually. Sometimes, he likes listening to you cry, likes listening to the hitched whine in your voice as his hand travels deeper and deeper between your legs.

These are the days where he wakes up next to you, naked, but you didn’t sleep the entire night. Not after what your step dad did to you.

More often than not after school, Hitoshi will make snacks for the two of you, and he tries to feed them to you. He will…intimidate you into opening your mouth. He stands over you, tall and unmoving like a mountain, holding that fucking dumpling in his hand. He whispers into your ear for you to be a good girl and obey Toshi-nii.

You take a shaky breath, closing your eyes to block out the sting prickling in your orbs and the burn in your nose as you open your mouth for him. He sticks his meaty fingers in your mouth, brushing your tongue as he feeds you your afternoon snack. Hitoshi leaves his fingers lingering on your lips as he smiles while watching you chew your food.

You can’t help but sniffle as he places you on his lap, turning the tv on so you two can watch a movie or a show together. Of course there’s an entire plate of snacks for the two of you to munch on. The only rule is you can’t feed yourself. No. Toshi-nii swats your hand away with a light smack whenever you try it. If you want more to eat, you’d better ask him, and don’t even think about complaining when he feeds you.

——

You thought you could get some peace showering, but you were wrong. Aizawa placed a new rule where you have to tell him when you’re about to shower. He’s never left in the dark with your nude secrets. He checks over your goosebump flesh, making sure nobody scratched or bruised his little girl. He undresses you slowly, letting you quiver and tremble slightly harder with every passing item of clothing that he drops on the floor. Soon, he’s pressing you up against the wall of the shower, your bare tits against the tile as he fucks into you, his scratchy pubes and balls smacking against your skin in such a rough manner it makes you scream into your palm.

Due to being unable to lock your door or even shut it, you feel eyes on you through the small crack, and you know it’s your brother watching you. You stand there frozen, unable to dress in your room. Now, you have to hide inside of your closet to get dressed.

You try your best to shower at school from now on.

——

Recently, you’ve become a defiant little thing. You don’t abide by your curfew, not wanting to come home and have dinner with the two of them. So, you stay out as late as you can, ignoring both of their texts.

Your step dad’s messages convey his anger towards you while your step brother shows concern.

Aizawa: Where the hell are you? You better get your ass home right now if you know what’s good for you.

Hitoshi: Hey, sis, you okay? It’s getting kind of late. You should probably come home. I’m worried about you.

You roll your eyes and stay in the library, doing your homework until it closes. You grab dinner next from a convenience store, and then you decide to make your way home. Walking in with your backpack slung on one shoulder, you shut the door behind you.

Your step dad appears in only seconds, rounding the hallway from the kitchen.

“And where the hell have you been, young lady?”

Sighing, you shrug your backpack onto the floor, taking your shoes off as well. “None of your business. I’m going to bed.” You just want to get away from him.

Hitoshi walks down the steps. He stops when he sees you. “Hey, sis, where have you been? It’s kind of late. You missed dinner.”

“Can the both of you get off of my fucking back?” You don’t like this, don’t like how they have trapped you. One is in front of you, the other blocking your path to your room.

No, you really don’t like this at all.

A quick hand reaches out for your hair, the other popping your mouth. Aizawa drags you close to him, chest to chest.

“You don’t really have the room to be talking like that, you know?”

He drags you into the living room, plopping down on the couch, forcing you to stand between his parted knees. His hand is still tight in your locks, forcing you to bend at an odd angle.

You press your hands against his chest to steady yourself, to fight the inevitable

“You’ve been a really bad girl lately. I’m not going to let you continue with this behavior. As your father-”

“You’re not my fucking father, you asshole! Fathers don’t rape their daughters! You’re just a fucking pervert, a monster!” you shout in his face, flecks of spit landing on his cheeks and nose.

Shouta wipes the saliva off with the sleeve of his shirt with a grunt before draping you over his sturdy thigh. He looks at his son who is standing idly by in the doorway of the living room.

“Shinso, come here.”

His son strides over lazily with hands in his pockets. “Yeah, Dad?”

“Have you ever given anyone a spanking before?”

You wriggle with mortification, not wanting to endure this any longer. “Please, don’t-”

“Hush,” Aizawa scolds as he delivers a swat to your upturned bottom.

You yip and hang your head in absolute shame.

“So, have you, Shinso?”

“No, Dad, I haven’t.” A grin appears on the teenager’s face, knowing what direction this is going in.

“Well then, I think this will be a great learning opportunity for you.”

With that, he raises his hand for a flurry of skin blazing smacks. You rear your head again, writhing across the older man’s lap as your legs scissor.

“I’m starting over her skirt because I want to build up the sting in layers. It doesn’t hurt as much now, but it will once we take away some of her protection.”

Doesn’t hurt as much now? Is he fucking shitting you? It hurts like fucking hell!

“You really want to focus on the lower half of her bottom and the upper half of her thighs. You don’t want to end up hitting her tailbone or anything on the lower back. That can cause unnecessary damage,” he explains to his son.

“Oh, I see. That makes sense,” Hitoshi responds. “She sure is kicking a lot.”

“Yeah, if it gets annoying, you can always just pin them down like this-” Aizawa puts a leg over both of yours, effectively trapping them.

“This isn’t fair! You’re humiliating me!” you scream into the couch cushions.

“If she starts being a little too mouthy, you can always take away a layer of clothing,” your step dad informs Hitoshi as he hikes up your skirt around your waist. “See, she’s already a nice shade of pink.” He pats the swell of your bottom, and it causes you to wince.

“Can I touch it?” Shinso asks tentatively.

“Sure, kid.” Amusement laces your step father’s tone, and you groan out of mortification as you feel Hitoshi’s fingers graze over your spanked flesh.

You hiss sharply as he pokes it.

“Fucking get off of me!” You try to kick your pinned legs as you push on Shouta’s thigh.

“That’s enough out of you, young lady.”

The spanking resumes as he pushes down on your back. A sob climbs up your throat, past a knot that you wish you could swallow. Shaking your head, you shoot an arm back to try and protect your backside from his onslaught.

“No, I hate you! I hate you both so much! Stop it!”

You feel his hand come down even harder but at a slower pace. It’s agonizing, leaving you breathy with tears all over your face.

“Now, Hitoshi, this is usually when I like to take down her underwear. You want to do the honors, kid?”

You look up at your step brother. He has the same expression akin to whenever he wants to feed you something. He slowly, ever so painfully slowly, drags your cotton panties down to your knees.

Lacking any protection, your punishment starts again. You catch a glimpse of Hitoshi’s hard cock as he palms himself through his pants.

It makes you want to vomit.

How could someone who is supposed to be your dad do this to you? How could someone who’s supposed to be your big brother treat you like this? How could your fucking mother die and leave you with these two creeps?

You hold onto a pillow on the couch, crying into it as you’re forced to lie over your step father’s knee and take whatever he plans to give you.

“And when she’s all sweet and compliant, that’s when you know she doesn’t have any fight left in her. You’re free to do whatever you want with her after that.”

Shouta makes an example out of you by hefting you up onto his lap, holding you closely.

He whispers in your ear, “There’s my good girl. You be good for Daddy now, okay? Be a good girl for me.” You feel his fingers slide beneath your skirt and into the folds of your slit.

Your chest heaves as you sob even harder against his shoulder. He’s right, though. You’re too tired to fight back. All the energy has left your body from fighting him during your spanking, and you simply sit there on your step dad’s lap and sob.

You don’t want to be spanked again after all.

Hitoshi lowers the zipper on his pants, pulling his cock free as he strokes himself.

“So, we can do anything with her now?” your step brother inquires.

“Anything you want. It’s not like she has room to disagree.”

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shallyouobeyme · 6 months

Text

Spicey

Yandere!Bakugo Katsuki x Reader (GN)

Summary: Bakugo is convinced the two of you are meant for each other, born on the same day and friends since then, and he will go to great lengths to make sure you stay near him. It's all worth it though when you do something for him, no matter how small...

! Minors Do No Interact!

TW: Actually just very soft!Yandere Bakugo, Me being a dumbass and switching between using Bakugos first and last name a lot, mention of Bakugo maybe or maybe not threatening some people

Your friendship with Katsuki had been going strong for as long as you could remember, your mothers had met in the hospital after giving birth and the two of you had already been lying in bassinets beside each other. Soon, your mothers were fast friends and play dates between Katsuki and you became a common, mostly weekly occurrence. And so it might have been the nature of the situation or it was always meant to be like that, but as you both grew up, your friendship only grew closer.

Now, one might assume that given the closeness the two of you have had for your entire life, Katsuki must perceive you as a sister, but one would be wrong. Sure, Katsuki saw you as someone he had to protect and who was an unchangeable part of his life, but you weren't his honorary sister, no, he hadn't seen you as anything family-wise since he had been old enough to know what romance was. No, you were going to be his spouse, you already were the love of his life and nothing would change that.

With this goal in mind, he made sure throughout his entire life that you were close by, made sure his presence as a perspective (definite) spouse of yours was drilled into your mind. Your parents wanted to move, unhappy with their landlord? Bakugo was the one who gave your father all the information about a beautiful property near his childhood home with the landlord being very, very kind - and always seeming a little scared when dealing with your family. You were thinking about attending a school specialized in one of your hobbies? Bakugo took you on a campus tour at U.A. (as if he ever needed it) under the guise of being the one who wanted to see more of it and, who would have thought, the support course could make perfect use of your quirk and the teacher is really keen on you attending. Maybe you should attend U.A. with him, don't worry, he'll help you study and he'll make sure you get in.

Even after the attacks on his class - luckily not on you though or he might have lost his mind completely - and the students moving into the dorms, he somehow manages to convince Nezu to move your room near his instead of where it would usually be near your class. Don't worry, he knows you don't know many of his classmates (because he didn't 'want to share you with them), but he's there and he'll make sure you'll feel comfortable. He'll even go to those interior decoration stores and buy you things to make your room more cozy - oh, you want to pay for your own stuff? Don't be silly, he only buys you stuff, because his mom is rich and he wants to spite her by paying with her money.

A lot of your off time is now spent in either your or Bakugo's room, often studying or just hanging out doing your own thing just enjoying each other's presence. But sometimes when you asked really sweetly, maybe gave him a little kiss on the cheek, and he knew no one would surprise the two of you, he'd do things you wanted to do specifically - be it Spa Days, book clubs, trying out specific baking recipes, or even something as simple as watching a chick-flick (something Katsuki will never, ever admit he secretly enjoys doing with you).

It was safe to say that a lot of things the two of you did were catered to your interests and hobbies, because - as stated before - Katsuki wanted you to know how perfect of a husband he'd be for you. But he didn't mind, everything done for you was something he did gladly and something he'd do again without a second thought. Still, whenever you did something specifically for him or whenever you went out of your way without a cause to make him happy, he was over the moon. The feeling he got when that happened - which to be fair wasn't rare, but he still relished it every time - was something better than any win in a fight, any villain he ever did or ever will beat, and better than any feeling of superiority he got over his classmates when he did something that proved him being better than them.

One such occurrence happened on a weekend spent at his house while both of your parents were on a trip out of the city, which gave Katsuki the perfect excuse to play house in his mind with you, in his head he liked to pretend that you and him were married and spent a relaxing day in your spousal home. He had been spending the last few hours at the gym in his basement training - he didn't want to get out of shape and make you think that he'd let you go once you'll be married - and when he came upstairs he smelled something delicious, quite honestly it felt a little bit like he was a husband working all day, coming home after a busy day to his loving spouse who was already preparing dinner for the two of you.

"You're cooking?" Katsuki asked as he walked into the kitchen, savouring the view of you looking so very cute and precious nodding your head to some imaginary tune as you stirred something in a pot.

"Yes!" you answered excitedly as you smiled back at him, "I know you usually like to make dinner, but I saw this new recipe online and I really wanted to try it and it turns out you had all the ingredients for it. I hope you don't mind."

"No, not at all," Katsuki gave you one of his rare smiles behind your back, just wishing he could come up to you - hug you from behind and give you a kiss, "I'll just quickly take a shower and then we eat, okay?"

A mere five minutes later, because Katsuki was too excited to take his time and rushed to the shower as quick as he humanly could, the two of you were sitting at the dinner table (gosh, Katsuki's mind would replay this day in his mind for months) and you served him a bowl of a Ramen-variation. Katsuki was prepared to act like this was the best-tasting meal in the whole world, just to see you smile at him, but what he was not prepared for was that after his first bite, his mouth exploded with flavour. Any normal person would have started crying at this point from the spicey goddess that just happened in his mouth, but Katsuki was more than used to this so he enjoyed it immensely. It was probably one of the best spicey Ramens he had ever tried - a main factor in this probably being that you made it.

You looked at him with a worried gaze as you were biting on your lip, waiting for his reaction: "It's too mild is it? I knew I should have added more spices," you sighed, looking disappointed in yourself, so Katsukio quickly stopped those doubts.

"It's perfect, really, this is just right. I was just surprised that you made it this Spicey, I mean, I know that you are a bit more sensitive with your puny, little tastebuds," Katsuki teased you a little bit and you blushed as you smiled a bit cheekily.

"I actually made a bowl without most spices just for me, but I wanted to do something nice for you for once - you're always doing so much for me and I wanted to."

Love pulsed in Katsuki's heart. This was the exact moments he was living for. This had to mean you loved him back, why else would you do something so amazing for him? Katsuki never had any doubts that the two of you were meant for each other - after all, you were even born on the same day, brought into this world together to live in this world together - but now he was even more sure than ever and maybe he would actually tell you what he was feeling soon. Maybe...

N/A: Thank you all for reading today's entry in my Yandere Writetober, I hope you enjoyed this and if you did, that you might feel inclined to reblog or comment. Tell me what you think, tell me what the weather is like, I don't mind either.

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yanderenightmare · 1 month

Text

TW: nsfw

fem reader

Just thinking of those boyfriends who can’t stop furiously blushing and excusing themselves when the post-nut-clarity hits after they’ve made a downright fool of themselves in bed. They’re all like, “Don’t give me that look, that wasn’t—y’know? I didn’t mean—I don’t know where that came from.” After they’ve begged and whined to creampie you while rambling things like “M’gonna make you my babymamma, gonna knock yah up—give you triplets—gonna babytrap yah—yuh—yeah—gonna make you mine—mh—all mine—my pretty little housewife forever!”

BNHA – Bakugou, Deku, Kirishima, Hawks, Natsuo, Mirio

JJK – Gojo, Geto, Naoya, Yuuta, Choso

HQ – Kuro, Bokuto, Iwaizumi, Sakusa, Miya twins

AOT – Eren, Zeke

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novasdarling · 1 year

Note

Hawks requests you say??? How about yan hawks with a darling that has been kidnapped for like a month or two now. Darling has been getting a bit bored so hawks is giving them freedoms (like outside time, getting to choose what movie they watch etc.), in exchange for physical and verbal affection. Like darling gets to choose the movie if they cuddle with him for the entire thing.

He would, so many yanderes would, but him especially. Hey, it's a win-win for him. Gets what he wants and sees reader happy.

I rushed it at the end a little sorry!

Give and Take

TW: Kidnapping, Dubcon, Smut, Broken Bones, Female Reader, Stockholm Syndrome

The room was dull, with little decor in it. Hawks had stated it was cause he didn't like when rooms were too busy. He was worried he would bump into something. Bang his wings against a shelf or table. Meaning any decor you wanted to make the place feel like anything other than a jail cell was limited. Hawks had allowed you to decorate certain rooms. Let you bring a few things from your own place. Items he had managed to go back and get. A few picture frames, books, and a few other trinkets. Yet, it was still limited. You couldn't stand looking at the plain walls and bare rooms. The same thing, day in and out. It drove you nuts.

The worst was when it was a nice day out. Sun shining, and a warm breeze. A day you wouldn't be able to actually enjoy. You weren't allowed out, even after all this time he was still worried you would run. You learned your lesson the last time you tried. The memory of hearing your bones snap under his hands still haunted you. A punishment that made its marks on your mind. You hadn't run since then.

You were seated in the living room. On the huge sofa, he had ordered before he brought you home. For the sole purpose of its size, large and soft. Perfect for afternoon naps with each other and movie night cuddles. Words that made you want to puke once. Kicking and screaming when he dragged you to it on those nights. After some time, you eventually became indifferent to it. Though on days when he was out busy saving the city. You could enjoy the softness of it. The comfort it brought when it was just you on it.

"Sweetie, I'm home."

Of course, the comfort never lasted long. Hawks was practically singing those words as he opened the front door. Locking the multiple locks behind him. Most needing a key only he had. Before you would grow angry and hopeless as each lock clicked shut. Now, there was only a gentle laugh leaving your lips. The locks weren't what was keeping you in anymore.

"How was your day." Hawks had made his way to you, placing a kiss on your cheek.

"Same as always. Boring, nothing to do."

"That's unfortunate."

Hawks didn't care to hear you complain. He never did, shutting you down before you could go any further. Now, if you had a complaint. It was short and vague. Something he could hear before interrupting. Something you could slip in before he shut you down.

"It's really nice outside." You were staring out at the patio.

"I guess, though a bit too hot for my liking. I was sweating all day."

That was a lie. He was just saying that to keep you from asking to go out. From asking to go on the patio like you used to do. You had no idea why he was so reluctant to let you on it. It was completely blocked off from other apartments. No other patios could see in. Plus you two were at the top of the building. No one could look down in on it. There was no way you could call for help, that anyone would see you. You were curious if he would ever let you on it, or if it just was for show now. A reminder even in your "home", you weren't welcomed in some areas.

"What's the point of having a balcony if you won't let me use it."

"Oh, well I never use it myself anyway. Just came with the place."

"Keigo" He preferred when you used his real name. A small form of vulnerability he shared with you. "You have a whole patio set out there. You're telling me you never used it?"

Hawks gazed at the furniture out there, then back at you. He didn't like the look you gave him. One that told him you had him. No one owned several outdoor chairs, a table and umbrellas when they didn't use them. Not to mention from what you could see. Some of the chairs looked quite used.

"Well," He was thinking of a comeback. "It's too dangerous for you out there."

That was a lie. You tried to argue with him. Stating no one could see you out there. That you were safe. The railings were high enough that you couldn't jump. Even if he feared that, you wouldn't mind just going out with him. Letting him babysit you while you soaked in the sun. You tried to reason and bargain with him.

"I said no." His tone was telling you not to push on. "Plus, you haven't shown me you deserve it." Hawks' smile was filled with condescending intent.

That piece of shit.

The topic was dropped, but your mind raced through his words. If you were going to be here for the rest of your miserable life with him. You needed to make the most of it. Try to make things normal. Before you were simply cruising on autopilot. Not fighting him anymore, but not actively engaging in his wants and needs. Possibly, it was time things change. That you actively engaged with your new life. A thought that didn't make you want to scream and hurl insults at him like it did in the first few weeks.

The day went by as usual. Hawks got takeout from his favourite restaurant. Both of you ate, him making most of the conversation while you answered with a "that's impressive." or a "you're so good at your job." every time he paused. Compliments that made his wings puff with pride. Once these words made you nauseous, but now they were just words. They made him happy, which meant you were happy. You began to tune him out enough to listen to your thoughts. Starting to think of what he had said earlier "you haven't shown me you deserve it." and what he meant by that. You hadn't made an attempt to run in a long time. Surely that was worth something. You had been good that way, proved you wouldn't run anymore. Why did you have to prove you were good for him anyway? He was the one who kidnapped you. He was treating you like a dog. Do a trick and you'll get a treat.

"Hey, did you hear what I said?"

"Oh," You had heard, at least enough to answer. "yeah, you saved someone from a hostage situation. Very brave."

Brave or attention seeking, who knows.

"Reminds me of the first time we met. When I saved you in that museum." Satisfaction was littered across his face.

How could you forget? The day that ended your life. It had been like any other day. You were a volunteer at the museum, showing a school class around. You were just trying to get some experience to get a job you actually liked.

Around each exhibit, you went. Showing relics from civilizations that didn't exist anymore. Bones of creatures that no longer roamed the earth. That was when it happened. A sudden sound of shots, people hitting the floor. The door leading in and out of the exhibit was shut and blocked. Three men yelling, brandishing guns. You weren't sure what exactly happened. All you remember is getting the kids to hide in a corner. Keeping them as far from the men as possible. It only lasted a few moments apparently. Hawks had cut their plans short. Swopping in and pinning the men with his feathers. Assuring everyone that they were safe now with that stupid smile plastered on his face. That was when you two first met. After the cops had shown up, taking over. You wanted to thank him, along with the kids that wanted to meet the mighty Hawks. He had been so sweet and kind to the kids and you. He had been charming, you could understand how so many fell for his trap. How you fell for it too.

After that day, he began to show up more and more in your life. Little bump-ins, him just showing up to the museum when you were there. You had believed his lies of wanting to make sure he hadn't missed anything, wanting to go over the scene again and again. That was the start. Then there were coffee dates, evening dates, and extravagant gifts. All until he had gotten bored of taking things at the normal pace, or in his words. Taking things slow. Before you knew what was happening. You were here, in his house with locks on every door leading out.

"That was the best day of my life, meeting you. Seeing how you cared for those kids. Putting yourself in front of them. You're one of the few truly good people out of there."

He was prompting you. You could either smile and thank him, or perhaps try something different. After all, he did say you hadn't been good. That was why you couldn't be on the patio. Couldn't have some safe freedoms.

"Thank you, but compared to what you did that day and do every day. It was nothing."

Hawks had paused eating, looking at you like he was curious about where this was going. This wasn't your usual answer. You seldom talked so much unless it was to complain or beg.

"I mean you save people every day without a second thought. Who knows what would have happened without you."

"Yeah, I guess your right. Who knows what would have happened without me." Hawks smirked like a child who was being praised for good grades. Continuing to eat his dinner, smiling throughout the rest of the meal. You had done something right.

You watched him for the rest of the evening. Noticing how much cheerier he was than usual. He was kinder and more lenient than normal. It made you begin to think of his words from earlier "you haven't shown me you deserve it." Was this what he meant, completing him, playing into his little fantasies of a perfect little couple. Like you two were in love. Indifference wasn't good enough for him anymore. It seemed like he wanted more if you were going to ask for things.

For a few weeks, you tested this theory. Complimenting him without any prompts. Kissing him before he left for work and when he got home. It was the small things that made him happy. Hawks began to give into your wants more. Letting you help pick a place to order takeout from. Allowing you to pick the movie or show for the night. He even allowed you to use the TV when he was out at work. Small things that made your cage more comfortable.

It must have been a month or two before your mind wandered to the patio. It would be a big ask, meaning something big in return would need to be given. Hawks had never pressured you for sex. No, he demanded kisses and touches, but not sex. You were glad for that, but his touches began to linger longer as the days went on. You realized it would eventually be requested, or he'd let it fester and cause a fight. Either you could wait, or take it into your own hands. It became a question not when or how you wanted it, but rather which was the better of the two choices. A big ask would need a big return.

You made your choice after a few days. Deciding to take things into your own hands. You had this chance to decide when and how sex with Hawks would go. Something for you, and something for him.

Waiting for the perfect opportunity, you found it. It was after a hard day for Hawks. He had spent half the day chasing a criminal down. One he had been looking for, for weeks. Finally, he had managed to track him. Made the arrest and was the city's hero once again. He was happy, but exhausted. Now was the time. Before you knew it, you two were on the couch, making out. He was enjoying himself, letting his hands roam. Moaning into the kiss. It was now or never. Quickly, you made your way onto his lap. Wrapping your legs around his waist, balancing on your knees. It was a lot, more than you had given him before. The most intimacy you had initiated. You felt Hawks pause for a moment, surprised at your actions.

"What are you-" Hawks pulled away, enough to look you in your eyes.

"I think I'm ready, I-I think I can..." You couldn't finish it, but you knew he understood.

Hawks pulled away further. Allowing himself to look at your whole face. Trying to read your expression. Hawks was a professional at reading people. He knew how to tell when people were lying, and when they were dishonest. There was none in your face. He could tell you wanted this, he just couldn't tell why.

"Ready for what? Use your words, sweetheart."

He was living for this. Living to hear you beg for him, to want him out of your own free will. Or at least as free as it could be in this situation. You told him what you wanted, that you wanted him. Oh, the look he gave you was terrifying. Full of desire, with a predatory element to it. Like he was a starved man, finally finding out his trap had worked. That finally he was going to eat tonight.

Before you knew it, Hawks had picked you up. Taking you to the bedroom. A part of you was thankful that he wasn't just going to take you on the couch. That he would offer some form of comfort for you.

The bed was soft, swallowing you whole while Hawks stood at the end of the bed. Staring down at you, as if he was waiting for you to beckon him down.

"If-If you want me to stop. Let me know, please." He was nervous, you could tell. His voice was a bit shaky.

Maybe it was the Stockholm syndrome finally taking full effect, but you found his words comforting, and endearing. He was letting you have some control. The first taste of control he let you have since bringing you here.

Things had started off slow. Hawks letting you set the pace at first. Allowing you to let him know when you wanted more than just kissing, more than simple touches over the clothing. You were the one to pull him down towards you. Letting him hover over you on the bed. You were the one to deepen the kiss. The one to slide your hand under his shirt. Feeling his skin, allowing your fingers to rake over his muscles. For someone who fought for a living, his skin was somehow so soft. Leaning further in, wanting more of him. He felt soothing like this was something you two had done times before. It felt familiar.

Hawks was hovering over you, letting his tongue explore your mouth. He was being needy, and desperate, but you could tell he was holding himself back. He was waiting for you to allow him more.

Your fingers began to slightly lift his shirt, trying to get him to remove it. It wasn't long until Hawks was stripped of his shirt, and moved onto his pants. Leaving him just in his boxers. Even if some part of you still wanted to fight him day and night, you couldn't help but marvel at his beauty. It was clear why he had so many fans, especially those who ogled him. He had the charm and the looks.

His hands were back on you, helping you move further up the bed until you both lay in the middle. His lips quickly attached themselves to your neck. Kissing and sucking any spot he could get to. You couldn't help but moan when he laid his lips on one spot. Even if you were about to have sex with him, it embarrassed you to enjoy his touches so much.

Hawks' hands were beginning to move under your clothes. Trying to peel them off, though he refused to let his lips part from your skin. Stopping his efforts. You couldn't help, but laugh. His movements weren't smooth. They were rushed and needy as he finally parted from your neck. Getting your shirt and pants off. Leaving you just in your underwear. Hawks had rarely seen you naked. He had given you your space when you changed, or when you bathed. Leaving the room or turning around. But now he was staring shamelessly. His eyes were wide as he watched as you sat up on the bed. Him kneeling beside you while you used your elbows to prompt you up.

"Is-is something wrong?"

You couldn't understand why he was pausing now.

"No" He was now leaning over you, slowly pushing you back down on the bed. "Of course not. It's just that, that I've never seen someone as beautiful as you before." Leaning down, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. "How am I so lucky to have you."

He was sweet talking you, but this was different than his normal flirting. It seemed more meaningful. He wasn't just flirting to bother you, to make you flustered. He wasn't using the charm he put on for the camera. This wasn't an act. This was him. Awkward and attempting to be meaningful. He wasn't being Hawks, he was Keigo with you now.

It wasn't long until he was pulling his boxers down. Letting you see just how hard he was just from kissing. You'd never seen him bare, at least not on purpose. He wasn't small, but he seemed more reasonable. Having more width than length. You followed suit and took off your underwear. You both were fully bare now. Both ready for things to move forward, yet unable to push it. Staying in place for a few moments. Hearts pounding, until Hawks made the first move. His fingers finding their place in between your legs. Letting them play with the fat of your inner thigh before moving up. Sliding his fingers up and down between your folds. Getting you used to his touch, getting you used to him being so intimate. It wasn't long until his fingers found their way into you. He was slow, letting only one finger in. Taking his time to allow you to adjust. You closed your eyes, taking in his touch fully. He felt good, it felt nice to have him touching you in a way you wanted. He was doing this to make you feel good. As his finger began to slowly pump in and out of you. Warming you up, getting you ready for him. It wasn't long until he was able to move a second finger in. He was slow. Watching your face to see if you showed any discomfort. Trying to make sure you enjoyed this as much as him. The oddness and discomfort were fading away. It was beginning to feel nice. You were enjoying it and there was nothing you could do to hide the moans escaping your lips. If only your eyes were open to watch how Hawks was looking at you. To see how he marvelled at you. The way he looked at you, reading every little change in facial expression. Wanting nothing more than to give you everything.

It wasn't long until Hawks had his mouth back on you. This time in between your legs. Kissing your inner thighs before attaching his lips to your clit. Your hands gripped the sheets. Trying to ground yourself. Hawks had always put on such a front, acting like your comfort and needs would come second as long as his were met. This time, your needs seemed to be first.

Your back was arching. You were pushing your body lower. Trying to get closer to his mouth. Wanting more. Both his fingers and mouth were making you feel amazing. His name left your lips. Begging for more. You could feel his smile against your skin. He was enjoying this perhaps more than you.

It wasn't long until the feeling in your stomach started. The heaviness of it, like it was begging to be released. He was bringing you closer and closer. You needed it so badly. You hadn't realized, but a "please" had left your lips. Making Hawks pump his fingers slightly faster. Hitting your spot. Tipping you over the edge. Making you finish on his mouth.

You still had your eyes closed, trying to level out your breathing before looking at him. Even with your eyes closed, you knew what look he would have on his face. A smile bigger than anything you'd seen. It would be full of pride. What you missed what how his mouth and chin were now covered in you. Something he was immensely proud of.

"You liked that?"

Of course, he would need you to confirm it. He knew the answer but wanted you to admit it. Wanted you to acknowledge that Hawks the hero, Keigo the kidnapper, could make you feel like this. Could make you cum on his tongue.

Nodding was enough for him. He made his way back on top of you, hovering over you. If only you could see how hard he was. How badly he wanted you. How precum was now leaking from him.

Your eyes shot open when he began to push in. Although he had warmed you up, you were still trying to adjust. It didn't hurt, rather it felt good. Inch by inch he pushed into you. His lips on yours, swallowing your moans. You could taste yourself on his tongue.

Once he was fully in. He took a moment before he began to move slowly. Pumping in and out of you. It didn't take long for Hawks to get carried away. He couldn't help, but begin to move faster. Letting his head rest on your neck. Moaning into your skin. He was desperate. Frantic for his own release. His hands sliding under you, grabbing at your ass. Trying to lift you further into him. Mumbling into your skin, praises, rants about how long he's waited. Any type of restraint was gone. He was back to now seeking his own release.

It didn't hurt, rather it felt good. More than you were ready for, but moans still left your mouth. Your hands went to his back. Settling by the base of his wings. Letting your fingers stroke the base. Causing Hawks to shudder and moan at the feeling. Begging you to do it again.

It must have only lasted a few minutes because before you knew it. Hawks had grunted into your neck and his body twitched before stilling. He laid on top of you for a bit. You wanted to laugh, you found it amusing how the oh-great Hawks didn't last long in bed. But in some odd way, it was endearing. To have such a man fall so easily.

Hawks got both of you cleaned up before getting back into bed. It would be stupid to ask for anything right now. He would see it as a betrayal. That you were just using him. You would wait till later. Hoping it would work. Tomorrow evening perhaps, when you had the energy. For now, you would just curl into him. Enjoying this moment.

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