#my hero acedemia fanfiction

[disaster-writer]

Tear You Apart

Pairing: Dabi x Reader

Summary: Someone in the League of Villains has been drugging you and doing things to you, and you were going to find out who

Word Count: 6.5k

Rating: X 18+

Warnings: Dark fic, smut, noncon, dubcon, masochism, sadism, drugging, mentions of exhibitionism/vouyerism

Minors DNI

There was a cockroach on your bedroom floor.

Your bedroom that was technically a small storage room with only a small futon and a lamp.

It was staring at you.

So you stared back, as your tired eyes tried to adjust to the blurry cockroach that sat no more than five inches from your face as you lay in bed.

You felt like you were hit by a truck.

The cockroach glowed in the sunlight that filtered into the room… you were lucky enough to end up with a window at least. Even if the moonlight never did reach far enough into the far corner of the room, leaving your imagination to run rampant in the middle of the night as to what lay within those shadows.

Though, you don’t think your imagination held a light to your reality now.

The room was spinning, you had to keep adjusting your eyes to the disgusting insect in front of you.

You pulled your bedsheet back ever so slightly, your arm broke through the cocoon of blankets you had wrapped yourself in. Slowly you reached your arm out, pointer finger outstretched, and neared the bug. 

You touched it.

Almost immediately the fucking thing scurried, flipped, and chirped over and over again, running rampant all over the floor. Until after what would be an angonizingly long two minutes for the insect, it died.

Each organ shut down one by one, its little body physically unable to function with the amount of pain a single stroke of your finger caused it.

You pulled your arm back into your cocoon and you stared at the dead cockroach.

You don’t remember taking off your gloves last night. That went for the hoodie you always wore to bed… that went for your pants… that went for your underwear.

You also don’t remember drinking anything last night.

But you were hungover.

Your head wouldn’t stop spinning, you felt like you were going to throw up, and everything just fucking hurt. But the general soreness from the hangover didn’t overshadow the burning, throbbing pain that came from between your legs.

Which meant it had happened again.

You felt your eyes watering, burning tears stinging at your tear ducts.

The first time you tried to chalk it up to falling into bad habits again.

Getting black out drunk was no stranger to you. It had always been easier to turn to the bottle than learn how to control your quirk. It dulled your senses, lessened the harm you could inflict, made you forget what it was to be an outcast of society.

It was safer for everyone that way.

But ever since the broker found you, selling you sweet visions of the future. A future you could help fight for by teaming up with the League of Villains. You had fallen hook, line, and sinker. You quit your vices.

But even if you had decided to drink the night away, that didn’t explain the blood and what you could only assume was dried cum that caked the inside of your thighs.

It was even on your face and in your hair.

That’s what had sent you reeling.

No man, woman, animal, or insect could touch you without immediately doubling over to writhe in pain.

So who the fuck managed to put their cock in you.

You had been so caught up in the how that you never stopped to think about the who until now.

You didn’t want to think of the only logical explanation.

One of your comrades was drugging you and raping you in the middle of the night and now that it’s happened twice, there’s no denying it. No more denying what was clearly in front of you no matter how fucking insane or impossible it should have been.

A choked sob clawed at your dry throat.

Joining this ragtag team of villains was the only thing that ever gave you a sense of purpose in your waste of a life. 

You had nothing.

A father that blamed you for your mother’s death. Telling you that all the unending pain you caused her was the reason she put that gun in her mouth. Out on the streets by fifteen, left to mug people with your quirk just to get by. Getting caught by heroes left and right left you with a criminal record. Alcohol had been your only sense of comfort.

You couldn’t leave the League. You can’t go back to that life.

You don’t know how long you laid in bed covered in those dried fluids and waiting for the world to stop spinning, all you knew was that the sun was setting by the time you forced yourself up and your bladder was fucking killing you.

You extracted your naked body from your cocoon, side stepping the dead roach to gather your clothes from last night that were scattered everywhere.

You pulled your thick black hoodie over your head and your black sweatpants up, hiding the blood and cum so that you could properly take care of it in the bathroom. 

You put your gloves on and pulled your hood up and left the room.

~

“She’s alive! No she isn’t!” Was the first thing that greeted you when you had left the bathroom.

”Hey Twice,” you mumbled, trudging past him and to the bar. You sat down.

Sitting hurt.

You barely looked around the room. You didn’t have to see to know that the entirety of the League was hanging out in that bar. These days it seemed you all were just sitting on your asses and twiddling your thumbs, waiting for the opportunity to make a move.

”Would you like a drink?”

You looked up tiredly to Kurogiri who stood behind the bar and shook your head, the amount of sugar in the mocktail you had Kurogiri make for you sometimes would probably make your pounding headache worse, “Water’s fine.”

You folded your arms on the bar counter and buried your face into them.

You didn’t want to be here with any of them right now but going back to your bedroom with those disgusting stains all over your futon also made you sick.

Either way you were trapped.

You didn’t mind the idle chatter from the others though. You could hear Mr. Compress and Spinner talking behind you in the booth. Twice was on the floor with Toga and from the sounds of it was playing around with his quirk and random items from the bar. Kurogiri talked to Shigaraki to your right of the counter and to your left was a normally brooding Dabi.

One of them had raped you.

You heard a ‘clink’ next to your folded arms, and found Kurogiri placing your water in front of you.

”Thanks,” you mumbled, grasping and raising the glass to your dry lips.

You gulped down the water quickly, draining the glass. You were so, extremely dehydrated.

Placing your glass down you looked to the side, only to find Shigaraki staring at you from behind ‘Father’s’ hand.

Shigaraki always fucking stared.

’The fucking virgin just wants to fuck you. Probably wants to see how long he’d last before you make his dick fall off’

That’s what Dabi had told you after watching you shift uncomfortably in your seat under his unwavering gaze your first night there.

You couldn’t deny he was suspect number 1 on your list.

You pulled the drawstrings of your hood, putting your head back down.

”Where were you this morning. We had a meeting.” 

Fuck— now he was talking to you.

”I had a rough morning,” is what you replied with, words muffled by the fabric of your hoodie.

Your heart beat picked up, beginning to hammer in your ribcage as you heard him stand up.

He was moving closer, sitting himself in the seat next to yours.

He had said nothing for a few long beats and the uncomfortable proximity of his body to yours made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

”Someone was in your room last night.”  

It felt like the air was knocked out of you. 

You slowly peered up at him through your hood, finding Shigaraki watching in sick satisfaction as if he just caught you red handed.

The accusation hung heavily in the air as you tried to find the words. Was he self admitting? Or did he see something? Did he know who it was?

But he continued before you could respond.

”You told us no one could touch you without your quirk activating but you’re fucking all night and missing meetings in the morning. You lied to us.”

“No—“ you blurted, perhaps slightly too loud. You leaned in closer, “I—I don’t— it’s not my fault,” you panicked, “I don’t know what’s happening— I would never lie to you about something like that, please. The League is all I have.”

He eyed you and the tears that brimmed in your eyes. His scrutinizing gaze unwavering from your face as he decided whether or not to believe your words. 

“Fine,” he muttered.

”Do… do you know who it was?” You asked softly, still not completely sure it still wasn’t him to begin with, but if it wasn’t and he did know…

”You don’t know?” He asked, suddenly starting to scratch at his neck.

”No.” you replied, quickly wiping a tear that fell.

He was about to say something when someone cut in.

”Would you just leave the crybaby alone.”

Dabi.

“I’m not a crybaby,” you muttered, finally leaning away from Shigaraki, barely sparing Dabi a glance. 

Shigaraki started scratching with his other hand now, which meant Kurogiri was near, ready to talk him down from whatever ledge he was currently walking on.

”Yeah, sure,” he remarked sarcastically.

You should just go back to your room. You don’t think you can handle talking to someone else that could possibly be violating you.

Unlike Shigaraki, Dabi barely spared you a glance and rarely talked to you. And although he seemed to be more mentally there than some of your other teammates, you wouldn’t put it past him to hurt you.

He still had a cock after all.

Kurogiri refilled your glass.

”Thanks,” you muttered again, taking a sip.

This was too much. Too suffocating. You needed to be alone even if that meant seeing those stains on your bed.

You stood back up, taking your water with you.

”I’m going back to bed.”

With that, you left the room ignoring the stares and the ‘boos’ that followed after you from Toga for leaving so early.

You’d work with them but for now, they couldn’t be your friends.

Not until you found out which of those fuckers had touched you.

-

You isolated yourself after that.

You went through the motions. You did what you were supposed to. You did the quirk training Shigaraki’s master required of you. You went to the meetings. You tried finding new recruits now and then.

But you stopped hanging out with the others and you only spoke to them if it had to do with business with the League.

Toga and Twice seemed to be the most broken up about it, you had been the closest with those two prior to everything.

But the more you were left with your own thoughts the more everyone became a suspect.

Even Toga. She was a shapeshifter and even if it was unlikely, the fact that she even had the ability to transform into the others set you on edge.

And what if Twice was making clones. You knew he didn’t make clones of himself but what if he made that one exception. Or what if he made a clone of one of the others without them knowing and the clone was the one that raped you and Twice killed it after so not even a real person attacked you and you’re just losing your mind in front of everyone and they have no clue as to why-

‘What if, What if, What if’

You were losing your fucking mind.

You weren’t really even sleeping at night, three hours at most. You were too scared someone was going to sneak in. Whoever it was was clearly somewhat resistant to your quirk and your only line of defense you ever relied on was useless.

But you also refused to leave. You had run from every one of your problems your entire life. You weren’t about to do that here. You needed this— a purpose for your life. Hope for a better future.

You needed a plan.

You needed to figure out who was hurting you. How they were drugging you. How they were touching you.

You had just as much of a right to be here as the rest of them and you weren’t going to be trapped in fear.

You just needed a plan.

~

Dabi sat at the end of the bar, off in his own little world, away from the others and their bonding. Away from their talks about nothing that wouldn’t matter in the end anyway. 

It had been another fucking useless day, just a bunch of “villains” sitting around and hanging out.

His own efforts have proven fruitless, everyone out there was trash and finding new recruits was becoming harder and harder to find with each day.

Cyan eyes glanced at the group, some holding careless smiles and laughing, others brooding in their own little minds as well.

They were all there except you.

You hadn’t around them much these days but slowly and surely you had been coming out of your room more and more again. 

It seemed like you were starting to let your guard down again.

But right now you were busy in that old warehouse the League found for you to quirk train. 

Your training in particular was a cruel affair that he’s had the privilege of sitting in on once or twice.

It was more torture than anything else. Trying to see just how much pain you could inflict on unwitting strangers that had been swept off the streets for that reason and that reason alone.

He couldn’t be sure if you enjoyed it or not. Your face always passive and indecipherable in those moments. But you’d do it anyway. You did whatever ‘ol crusty and his master asked of you.

It pissed him off how willingly you followed after that fucking virgin.

It also pissed him off seeing how much Shigaraki enjoyed that.

Dabi sighed, raising his glass to his lips and taking a swig of the drink.

You’d be back any minute now and you’d be tired, exhausted even.

Maybe you’d want to have a quick drink with the others before heading to bed.

His jaw tensed at the thought and he drained the rest of his glass.

Or maybe you’d go straight to hiding in your room again. Barely sparing a glance or a few words with anyone.

Fuck.

He may have overdone it last time. 

But the sight of you beneath him, his hands spreading your thighs wide open, watching his cock thrusting in and out of your tight little cunt— each barbell pierced into his cock disappearing and reappearing one by one while you babbled whatever came to your inebriated mind, tits jolting with every thrust— it was too much. And Fuck— the way it hurt, every nerve ending a live fucking wire—

”Hey guys,” you mumbled tiredly.

He didn’t even hear the door open.

The others greeted you as he watched you approach them in his peripherals. Some greetings more animated than others, in Toga’s and Twice’s case specifically.

”How was quirk training!?” Toga asked with a toothy grin.

”Fine,” you mumbled, taking a seat at the bar next to Compress.

”Would you like a drink?” Kurogiri asked per routine.

”Yeah, surprise me. Just no alcohol,” you nodded, making Toga cheer, happy to see you spending time with them again. “Don’t get too excited. ‘M not staying up for long, I have more quirk training tomorrow morning so I’m going to bed after this one.”

”Aw boo—,” she grumbled. “No fun.”

”Hey, how’s the gun feel by the way?” Spinner asked.

”Still getting the hang of it, but it feels good. Thanks again.”

”Yeah, no problem.”

The conversation shifted as Twice started telling stories of his more adventurous exploits when he was younger. And there was Shigaraki eye fucking you again.

Dabi watched from the corner of his eye as Kurogiri made your drink.

Weeks had passed since that last time he visited you. Kurogiri had made you only four drinks since then.

And Dabi watched patiently as he poured in each ingredient.

But it was tonight that he used the pineapple juice.

You were the only one in the League that drank the pineapple juice.

He watched him place the glass down in front of you. 

He watched you take a sip.

A grin pulled on the corners of his mouth.

From here on out all he needed to do was wait. And Dabi was nothing if not patient. He had to wait for you to finish the drink, wait to hear you tell everyone you were tired and going to bed, and finally wait as each and every member of the League turned in for the night.

Usually by the time he could sneak into your room you were peacefully asleep. Never expecting Dabi to rouse you from your sleep, surprise taking your features every time.

Tonight was no different.

Just like clockwork you were the first to retreat to your room for the night… but not before draining your glass.

Fuck— he was getting excited.

One by one, each of his comrades decided to call it a night.

First Shigaraki and Kurogiri, then Compress, then Toga, Twice, Spinner…

And that made one.

Dabi cleared his throat, choking back the excited giggle that threatened to escape and climbed to his feet.

It had been too fucking long since he’s been able to indulge like this. With not much else to do these days he had been left with his own imagination and hand for too long.

Like a moth to a flame he found himself at your door, silently pushing it open and slipping inside.

His eyes nearly glowed in the dimly lit room as they landed on your curled up figure, laid peacefully on your futon, fast asleep.

Moonlight was the only thing to illuminate the room.

His cock throbbed, it was painfully hard as it had been for almost an hour now, precum smearing his boxers no doubt.

He palmed himself through his pants as he walked towards your peaceful form, pretty face becoming clearer the closer he got and the more his eyes adjusted to the lighting.

Unceremoniously, he collapsed to the floor, sitting down in front of you, no more than five inches from you. He watched your chest rise and fall with each of your breaths.

Carefully, he picked up a lock of hair and tugged.

You stirred but were far too drugged to wake up from the action.

He dropped the lock, fingertips now reaching for your face— your cheekbone, gently brushing them along your warm skin.

His breath hitched, little electrical shocks started in his fingers and danced up the length of his arm.

”Fuck, got my fucking cock throbbing, crybaby” he panted huskily, “Time to open those pretty eyes of yours now,” he said, giving your shoulder a shake.

“Hmm,” you whined.

”Wake up,” he said again, a harder shake this time.

You blinked your eyes open just slightly, before shutting them again.

You gave a confused hum, “Dabi?” You mumbled.

”That’s right crybaby.”

”What’re—why,” you slurred together.

He pushed your shoulder back— you were so pliant that he was able to effortlessly maneuver you onto your back.

You continued to mumble, trying to make sense in your drug addled mind as to why Dabi was in your room. All the while he was climbing onto the mattress and spreading your thighs as he settled between them. He tugged you down slightly, hooking your legs over his hips and pressing his clothed cock against you.

”Miss me crybaby? I’ve sure missed you,” he grinned, grabbing your gloved hand in his own and guiding it towards the tent in his pants, “See.” He exhaled breathily, using your hand to grasp his cock.

You tried opening your eyes again, waking up a bit more.

”Wha’s happenin’” you murmured, fingers wiggling in his hold as you tried shifting beneath him.

He only hummed, saying nothing as he lifted your hand up. He grasped the middle finger of your glove and pulled.

And just like every other time, your eyes shot open.

”No,” you whined.

”Yes,” he hissed back, pulling your glove completely off and discarding it to the side.

”Can’t touch,” you pulled your hand back and he let you cradle it to your chest. Instead shrugging his jacket off and pulling his shirt off before tossing them with your glove.

”Yes you can,” he grabbed your wrist, placing your hand on his abdomen.

Specifically on the deep purple scars.

Pain radiated from the surface of skin you touched, deep into the tissue. A shockwave of hurt burst from the center of his body, outwards.

His head fell back as a guttural groan clawed its way from his throat.

He ground his cock into you as wave after wave of pain wracked his body.

It was then that your sobs reached his ears.

He dropped your hand but the pain lingered blissfully, though it was dull.

“Fuck.”

The first touch was always the best. 

He grinned as he gazed at your tear stricken face.

”Let’s get you out of this,” he said, tugging your hoodie up.

You struggled but were too weak to stop him, every muscle in your body relaxed from the drugs.

You babbled nonsense, he didn’t even bother to try to make sense of what you were saying, just like every time before. Besides, the blood rushing in his ears was distracting anyway. 

You had no bra on, making his fingers move to the button of your jeans, fumbling with it as he eyed your tits heaving up and down with each of your breaths. He finally yanked them off your legs, along with your panties.

“Why are— does it hurt?” You continued to mumble, “How.”

“Hah—“ A laugh escaped Dabi. Tonight you seemed more concerned about hurting him rather than him stripping you down naked and getting ready to fuck you. “Wanna remember how good I can make you feel?” He asked, fingers now finding your wet cunt, stroking between your folds. That familiar, irresistible pain resumed in his hand as he pet you.

You gasped and wriggled, trying to move up the bed and get away, but the new grip on your hip prevented you from doing so.

Dabi’s head was reeling, pain and pleasure clouded his mind.

You were the only fucking girl that set his nerves ablaze in such a way. If it wasn’t for his vengeance set in a different, higher place he thinks he would never leave the bedroom with you.

Two fingers pressed into your cunt and slid in, making you squeal.

”Dabi no—“ you sobbed, continuing to wriggle in vain. “Why—“

“Shh,” he hushed, “Don’t think, just feel,” his thumb found your clit and rubbed tight little circles into it.

”Stop— I never— I’mma virgin.“

He barked out another laugh.

”You haven’t been a virgin for over a month now crybaby.”

You whimpered and cried, turning your head into your pillow as your voice became higher and higher pitched the longer this went on.

His free hand stroked your body, feeling the curve of your hips and the dip in your waist before gripping your breast. He then dived for the other, latching his lips around your nipple, pain sparking in his lips and tongue and the parts of his chest that brushed against you.

He continued to suck and tug on your nipples as his other hand continued to work you between your legs.

”Why, why, why—“ you cried, “Dabi why.”

”Because you’re mine you fucking idiot— now cum already.” He growled against your breast.

Your back arched as if his voice held any actual authority, and you came. Tears streaking your face with each spasm of your cunt.

When you came back down to earth you were a shivering, sniveling mess.

”See,” he sighed, “That wasn’t so bad now, was it?”

You sniffled, keeping your eyes squeezed shut.

”None of that,” he pulled the hand from between your legs and cupped your face, fingers digging into your cheeks as he smeared your fluids against your face. “No pretending you’re somewhere else. Open your eyes.” You blinked them open slowly, “Good.” He hummed, smacking your cheek lightly and sitting back up.

The pain you inflicted had finally turned into a duller thrum throughout his body. 

Meaning he had to fuck you now for his next fix.

He sucked your sticky wetness from his fingers before undoing his belt then his jeans.

He pulled his cock out, the feeling of it brushing against you making you inch away.

”See that baby?” He grunted, tilting his head back as he stroked his cock and cupped his balls, “You’ve got me so fucking pent up. Makin’ me wait almost an entire month.” He looked back down to you, eyeing you up like an animal. “Ready for my cock crybaby~” he taunted.

The words had fresh tears spilling down your cheeks.

”I’ll take that as a yes.”

He tugged you down by the hips, cock nestling between your folds. He gasped out and jolted at the sensation in his cock. 

There was no separation of the pain and pleasure you inflicted on him. It was one. Indivisible. 

And so much better than anyone else could ever offer.

He gripped his cock and lined it up at your entrance, heart beating rapidly against his ribcage.

His breathing came out hard and laborious, chest rising and falling dramatically as he psyched himself up to push into you.

That initial thrust would have him cumming. It did every time.

Fingers bit into your hips.

“1…” he growled, “2…” he shut his eyes.

”3.” Said the voice behind his ear.

Dabi’s eyes snapped open in time to see the bullet lodge itself between your eyes.

Your dead body turned to sludge, melting beneath him.

His ears rang as the unmistakable feel of a barrel of a gun pressed itself against the back of his head.

You held the gun, standing over Dabi’s kneeling figure.

As the ringing died in both yours and Dabi’s ears, the deafening silence became louder.

Bile crawled up the back of your throat as you looked over his shoulder.

His cock was still hard.

You cocked the gun, the little ‘click’ shattering the silence.

He sighed, shoulders slumping as he pushed his head back, leaning into the gun’s barrel.

”Maybe…” his raspy voice started, “I underestimated you.”

”I could kill you,” you replied coolly, “I should kill you.”

”But you won’t. I’m a pretty big player in all this League of Villains shit and you know that,” he started turning slowly, looking over his shoulder, bathing his profile in a bluish moonlight and illuminating the sick grin he wore, “So what exactly’s the plan then? Huh, crybaby?”

He was taunting you.

You set your jaw tightly and genuinely thought about pulling the trigger.

The nickname made you sick. You thought he was just being an asshole to you in the bar a few weeks ago when he called you that… you wouldn’t have thought it was a twisted little nickname he gave you after assaulting you.

”I want to talk.”

He scoffed, turning around, gazing up at you as he sat leisurely on your futon. He didn’t even bother to tuck his cock back into his pants. “I didn’t come in here to talk.”

”But that’s exactly what’s going to happen asshole or I’m going to tell Shigaraki—“

”He already knows crybaby. He watched.”

You faltered, face completely falling, “He- he what?”

Dabi grinned maliciously at you, “I let him watch last time, especially since you were such a good girl for me the first time I stopped by, taking my cock so well. I figured since he has such a hard time keeping his eyes off you then I’d really give him something to look at.”

“So,” you began shakily, “When he was interrogating me at the bar for missing that meeting—“

”Oh he knew why. He had been jerkin’ it to you the entire night.”

Fuck— tears were starting to collect in your tear ducts.

You blinked quickly in an attempt to hold them back.

You were just so fucking weak. How was it that you found yourself in progressively worse situations your entire life.

Joining these guys was supposed to mean something.

”Why,” you swallowed, gun shaking in your hand, “I thought we were supposed to be teammates.”

”I’d argue that we’re more than that now,” the words felt sinister, making you grow sicker by the second, “Do you want to know what the first thing I thought when the broker introduced you?”

You stayed silent, you didn’t want to play into this little game of his.

”I thought ‘now what cruel motherfucker would make someone that looked like you but wasn’t allowed to be touched’? But then,” he leaned back on his hands, nearly presenting his cock to you, “Once I was balls deep in that tight little virgin cunt, and you were shaking and crying in my arms I realized that you were made for me. I am the only man in this world that can fuck you. Your cunt belongs to me.”

Shit, shit, shit

”Don’t feel too bad though. This isn’t a one way street. I’ve never had pussy that’s made me fucking shake before, and that’s all you crybaby. You’re the only one that can offer me the kind of pain and pleasure that makes me forget about every crappy thing in my life.”

He was getting in your fucking head. 

“You’re insane.” You muttered hoarsely, throat suddenly dry, gun shaking even more in your hands.

”Well, what sane man would want you?”

You don’t know what possessed you, the weeks of anxiety? All the pent up anger he had caused?

Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. You threw the gun across your little room and lunged at Dabi.

He wanted to feel pain? Then you’d show him what actual pain feels like. 

Your inebriated body couldn’t access the full potential of your quirk.

And you hadn’t been quirk training for nothing.

You tackled him to the futon and landed in the muddy remnants of your clone, straddling his waist as you placed both your palms against his bare chest.

Dabi’s hand flew to your wrists as… as a groan left his throat. It wasn’t a scream or a wail, it wasn’t what you expected. And the pinch in his eyebrows was anything but anguish.

His palms were hot but he wasn’t using his quirk to push you away.

You had seen and heard looks of agony and suffering on people more than you’d care to admit, but this was not that.

You pushed against his chest harder, against the deep purple scars and seams of his body, digging your fingers into the stapled flesh and drawing blood.

”Fuck— that’s different,” he groaned out, “Why’s it different.”

”Why aren’t you in more pain,” you snapped, “I’ve made grown men kill themselves after only brushing against my arm just to end their suffering. What the fuck is wrong with you!” You screamed into his face.

He only moaned in response.

Which was when you had realized he had reached down when you weren’t paying attention. He reached between the gap where you had either leg on either side of his body and was fisting his cock. He was jerking himself off while you were hurting him.

A disillusioned laugh escaped your throat, broken and choppy.

This was absurd.

This went against everything you believed about your quirk while growing up.

That your entire identity surrounded the fact that you inflicted pain and everyone and anything would always see you as the villain because of that. You were meant to be avoided and feared, never wanted or desired.

You were losing your goddamned mind.

”You’re a fucking freak,” you suddenly laughed louder at the realization, watching him drag his fist over his cock, the metal barbells of his Jacob’s ladder glinting in the moonlight. “You walk around here all tough and moody, acting like you’re better than everyone else but you’re just as fucking crazy as the rest of them.”

“You’re just as sick,” he choked out with a laugh of his own, “Watching me playing with your clone. You listened to her cry and beg me to stop and you just watched.”

”Shut up,” you hissed. You knew it was wrong, you had promised her you’d stop him before he touched her inappropriately, but when he started you couldn’t bring yourself to end things. 

A twisted part of you wanted to watch and it made you fucking sick.

Just as what you did next made you sick.

You reached down between your legs and grabbed his cock yourself, pushing his own hand away.

He threw his head back, letting out an even louder groan. You could tell this one hurt more than the hand on his chest and it made you smile knowing he was in pain no matter how much pleasure he got from it.

You started jerking him off yourself, listening to his heaving grunts and groans with every stroke of your hand. You paid no mind to the piercings in his cock, if he liked the pain then he could deal with any snagging.

He started tugging on your shirt, pushing it up higher. His hands pawing at your body until one reached your bra, pushing it up to grab your tits.

Your mind felt like it was splitting. You didn’t want him to touch you but you didn’t want to stop him.

But the nail in the coffin was when he tangled a hand in the back of your hair and tugged you down.

He was kissing you.

He tasted like burnt flesh and cigarettes.

His tongue forced itself past your lips and brushed against your own in broad strokes.

You didn’t pull away, you only kissed him back with equal fervor, biting his lips and letting him stick his tongue as far back into your mouth as he wanted to.

You moaned into the kiss, a moan that had been swallowed by his mouth, sending a flutter of excitement in the pit of your stomach.

He broke the kiss. Glowing cyan eyes boring into yours, “Ride me crybaby.”

You sat up, pulling your hoodie over your head and quickly undoing your bra, throwing them to the side as Dabi pulled at your pants.

You smacked his hands away, standing up to work them down your legs yourself before landing on top of him again.

He hissed at the pain as you touched him with a newly exposed body.

You ignored him, grabbing his cock and lining it up at your entrance. You sunk down slowly, adjusting to the size and the feeling of the piercings entering you.

But it wasn’t fast enough for Dabi because he was grabbing at your hips and pulling you down forcefully onto his cock.

You shook and cried out from the pain, collapsing against his chest as you sucked in breath after breath.

But Dabi shook harder from underneath you, pained moans of your name leaving his lips. You watched in curiosity, ignoring your own throbbing pain from between your legs as he started panting, body going slack.

You started laughing, you were pretty sure the fucking freak just came, ”Did you just—?” 

”It’ll get hard again, just start fucking moving,” he grunted, grabbing at your hips.

So you did.

You had no idea what your were doing so you just did whatever felt good, and grinding your clit against his pubic hair felt really good.

The feeling of his cock getting hard inside you again made you dig your fingers into his stapled flesh once more, drawing more blood.

”Shit— ride me better,” he hissed.

”I don’t know how—“

“Shut up,” he spat, holding your hips in a bruising grip as he bent his knees to get some leverage and began to thrust into you from underneath.

“Oh fuck,” you gasped. You had never felt anything like this before.

The next second he was slipping his arms around your back and switching your positions, slipping out of you but you had barely any time to process it as he slammed back into you as he was now hunched over your body.

You yelped at the brutal pace he set, hips pounding against yours. You could feel his balls slapping against your ass and every piercing dragging in and out of you.

Your high pitched, breathy moans mixed with his own deeply pained and pleasured grunts. The sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and all the lewd wet noises that came with every thrust made you blush deeply.

Next he was yanking your leg up, hooking it over his elbow, allowing him to reach deeper inside you.

You threw your head back, “There,” you breathed out.

You were getting close and Dabi could tell by the clenching and unclenching of your cunt. He snaked a hand down and found your clit, rubbing tight circles into it.

“Cum crybaby, show me this cunt belongs to me.”

You fucking hated that nickname. And you hated his entitlement.

You wrapped your hands around his throat, listening to those pained noises that were starting to make your head spin.

He fucked into you even harder.

Everything went white. 

You were cumming and then he was cumming, the two of you shaking in each others arms.

He had slid out with a hiss, collapsing beside you, careful not to touch you.

You stared up at your ceiling, listening to his pants. You turned to look at him.

He really was shaking. 

You reached over and touched his chest, grinning at the now truly pained reaction you got.

He activated his quirk making you hiss and pull away, cradling your now burned hand to your chest.

It was quiet for a few beats.

”Why are you able to touch me?” You finally asked.

”The doctor that put me back together said my pain receptors are fucked.”

”Oh,” that actually… made a lot of sense.

You looked back to him again. Eyeing his profile, following the slope of his nose and the subtle pout of his mouth. You looked at his scars, how the deep purple skin was being held together to his healthy skin by staples. You stared at the swollen seams where the skin was connected.

You were beginning to think he had it wrong.

He was actually made for you.

-

Tear You Apart Prequel (Dabi x Reader x Shigaraki)

Deleted Scene

[atinyrasberry]

hey guys, any mha requests?? i've been wanting to write some but im out of ideas 😞😞

[the-kinning-hour]

The little fic I am writing is in the workshop, but I am quite the slow author and it is proving that it will be longer than my typical works. Pair that with the busy week I’m having and the fact I have never written for mha before… well, it’s taking time.

That said, please enjoy a small snippet while I slave away to crank out this work! :D

[dark-mnjiro]

Touch of Divine Rush

A Collab Masterlist

a collection of stories where one is touched by a divine being whatever chaos, blessing, or curses that may bring.

DEADLINE: MARCH 30th 2023

STATUS: CLOSED

PARTICIPANTS

@dark-mnjiro - orpheus!yuuta x eurydice!afabreader

@knchins - dionysus!bachira x reader

@izunias - fallen angel!reader x human!itoshi rin

@ryndicate - narcissus!michael kaiser x reader

@lou-struck - bakugou katsuki x reader - pygmalion and galatea retelling

@i-am-tiny-sun - chigiri x reader :: the pursuit of diarmuid and gráinne retelling

@meggsngrits - artist!yuuji x fairy!reader :: leanan sidhe retelling

@yakshasslut - eros!chifuyu x reader :: based on eros and psyche myth

@the-fishing-basket - nemisis!dabi x reader

@chiffiorra - perseus!isagi x andromeda!reader

@chiffiorra - hades!hanma x persephone!reader

@kaidabakugou / @dynamy-tears - forest god vidar!bakugou x elf freader

@noelledleapier orpheus!nikko x eurydice!reader

stories will be added/linked as they are completed - masterlist is subject to change depending on writers ability to complete work for collab. please remember if you are unable to complete - just contact me. i totally understand and will also try to work with you in regards to this!

[kruel5555]

My rules/what fandoms I will write for

Hi this is something you should read before requesting fanfiction for me to write

My Rules

-I will not write fanfiction for people under 16 (unless they are aged up)

-I will not write for k!nk groups that involve children (for example ABDL)

-If you are going to read my works you will be respectful to my rules and other people in general that like what I write

Fandoms I write for!

-kakegurui

-seven deadly sins

-puella magica madoka (aged up)

black butler/kurotsuji

-animal crossing

-helluva boss

hazbin hotel

-arcane

-vampire knight

-demon slayer

-boku no hero acedemia

-glitter force/pretty cure

-heartstopper

-harry potter

-dream smp

-stranger things

-sally face

What themes I write

-Smut

-Angst (not heavy)

-Fluff

-Agere (age regression)

-A/B/O (omegaverse)

Thank you for reading ask away!

[darkestcat23]

ive been planning my fanfic out and im debating between two endings: 1. good 2. not so good hahaha please help a girlie out

if ya wanna read it and support that'd mean the world:

[boba-tea-addict-1004]

Noctambulant (a bakudeku fanfic) Chapter Eleven: Why?

-TW: mentions of attempted suicided

________________________________________________________________

Bakugou was silent for a bit. "Kachan please, if I'm reason for why your acting weird just come out and say it!" izuku tried to take his hand but just went right through. Bakugou wasn't sure how to respond, he knew what he wanted to say but wasn't sure how to say it. things were just to complicated to him now. something overall changed inside him, and yet it felt like he cant come to to grips with that. Bakugou took a breathe "No. it's not you.."

"then what is it?"

"..." he stayed quiet for a bit

"..kachan, i want to help but.. i cant if you wont let me"

"there you go again, i dont need sympathy from you.. " he mutter softly to himself "not after every i did."

Bakugou then got up and started walking away. izuku made many attempts to stop him but every time he just walked through him. "nerd. your wasting your time. I'm not talking."

izuku then looked directly at him with a expression of genuine worry "Kachan please!.. tell me."

"No"

"why not!"

at this point they were getting louder and louder until..

"Oh my god, cant you think of anybody besides yourself-"

"Well that's i can think about when all you ever were was nice to me and i treated you like dirt to the point where you almost killed yourself because i was so stupid!" he yelled stopping ounce he realized what he said then started breaking down "why are you doing this to me. i have been nothing but terrible to you.. and yet.. your still here.. why?"

[mhaandfpe]

MHA and FPE Discord!! - SERVERS (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/1495168476-mha-and-fpe-discord-servers?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_reading&wp_uname=DenkiKamiThePikachu Ill be posting the links soon!!

[princesheepish]

Looking For fanartists/writers to follow!

Hey there! I'm looking for more artists and writers to follow for the following fandoms:

[Feel free to link artists or writers you like, and specific fanfiction! You can also just comment if you draw or write one of the bellow]

[AUs ok!]

[List below Cut]

-Pokemon

-Warrior cats

-Steven Universe

-Skyrim

-Stardew Valley

-Fire Emblem

-Aggretsuko

-My Hero Acedemia

-Yuri on Ice

-Naruto [seen Shippuden but no interest in Boruto, sorry!]

-Furry counts as a fandom right. Link me some furry artists too

[keigosbirdie]

Balmy (part 4 - Masterlist)

HawksxFemale reader. Hawks struggled to come to terms with his impending fatherhood. With your due date looming, he decided to spend some much needed time alone with his wife. Dad!hawks. NSFW. Warning: Avian traits, NSFW, rut/nesting season.

Kettei's conception didn't begin with your bodies pressed close together, naked and breathless beneath the bed sheets. Rather, he was the end result of his father’s recklessness.

It began (predictably) nine months prior, when Hawks awoke in a sterile white room. Forgein faces paced around his bed as he regained consciousness, though his swollen head had trouble keeping up. Slowly, his senses trickled back. His blackened eyes followed nurses as they swapped out IVs and dressed his newly stitched wounds. The squeaks of their shoes against the tile were hammers to his pounding head.

He had no idea the turn his life was about to take, and he was far from prepared for where it would lead him.

"Good, you're finally awake," said one of the nurses from his bedside. She was rather small. He leaned up to see her bushy tail and fox's face from beside his mattress. "How are you feeling, besides nauseous?"

"I'm… fine," he said, even though he was in so much pain his eyes pricked with tears when he breathed in. "Where am I?"

"Central hospital, you're waking up from emergency surgery. Do you remember why you're here?"

He blinked at her fluffy ears as he scraped around his skull for the answer. Swirling colors in a black void came to mind, no—they were streaks of city lights spirling in a backdrop of night. Goopy tentacles snapped at his heels. The viscous substance that coated them burned through his pant legs, as well as every feather it touched. His arsenal was depleted, and he careened to the earth.

"I got KOed on live T.V., didn't I?"

The nurse laughed lightheartedly, but nodded.

"Unfortunately so, but you moved every civilian out of danger until backup arrived. Not a single life lost! Though you got really roughed up. That villain banged you around before Best Jeanist snatched you outta there."

Banged him around? Hawks felt like a limp sack of meat. That guy must have really wailed on him. He'd have to remember to thank Jeanist later.

"On a serious note, you had several broken bones on top of a punctured lung and a head injury. Frankly, your odds did not look good. Our nurses' healing quirks put you back together, but your body still needs a week at least to recover."

Being brutalized to that extent was not in Hawks' memory.

Please, God, tell me my wife didn't see it on television.

"A week?"

"Yes, we'll keep you overnight, then send you home for bedrest. You aren't to be back in the sky until you're cleared…"

She kept talking. Perhaps it was because of the medicine they’d pumped him full of, but he couldn't focus on a thing she said. They offered him water and asked more questions that he murmured answers to. Then, when their checklist was complete, they moved onto their next patient. They left Hawks alone and without direction.

Everything was cold. His body, which hurt terribly, shivered beneath his thin hospital blankets. It made him yearn for the warmth of your quirk. The damage the villain inflicted was too severe to get out of bed, but to lay still made his wings itch and his head buzz with difficult thoughts. They were mostly about you, the young wife he left behind on the mountain.

He focused on his new environment—the lifeless white hospital room—to distract himself. His feathers were far fewer, but they sensed bodies that passed by his door. The nurses shuffled around for their duties and families came to visit their ailing loved ones.

He didn't mean to eavesdrop on private moments of strangers, but information gathering was all he could do to quell his restlessness.

With small feathers pressed against the wall, he focused on the room connected to his own. Voices murmured through the plaster, and Hawks' tuned quirk mapped out the room. An elderly man sobbed softly in his bed. Hawks couldn't be sure why the stranger was so stricken with pain. It hardly mattered, though, as the gentle voice of a woman breathed humanity and assurance into the room.

"I know it hurts, Honey. But I'm right here with you, okay? For better or for worse, just like I promised," her wavering, aged voice assured.

Her promise was the same one you made to Hawks.

A chair squeaked as she leaned over the bed to hold the man, who cried into her shoulder without fear of judgement. Hawks' feathers pressed harder into the wall, as if her voice would grant some second hand comfort.

Instead, it only made his stomach twist up in knots. He glanced at the chair beside his own bed. It looked uncomfortable, a bit outdated, and, worst of all, empty.

It's not fair.

It was a childish thought, one many may have found unbecoming of a hero. But, no matter how easy it was to forget, he was still just a boy at only nineteen. A boy who didn't have a mother to cry for. Instead, he had only…

I want my wife.

His jaw tensed to fight the tears in his eyes.

He instinctively felt around his chest for the only precious piece of you he brought from home: his wedding ring. The golden band couldn't be seen on his finger where it belonged. Instead, it was kept on a chain around his neck, where it could be tucked into his suit.

But, between the scuffle and emergency surgery, the special thing had vanished.

The nurses left a small plastic bag on his meal tray. Inside were the items salvaged from his shredded uniform. He snatched it from his bedside and rifled through the thing.

A wallet, which had been ripped in two, laid inside. There was also a disposable phone, but there was no chain clasped around a golden band. He shook the bag, hoping to see it shimmer in the bottom, but there was nothing.

Hours passed.

The couple next door tearfully separated as visiting hours came to an end, and the hospital fell silent. Hawks watched the city light flare to life outside the window. The distant whirring of traffic reminded him too much of his penthouse, so he imagined how the view of the mountain out your window fared. You likely didn't know either, as you tended to pace the cabin when you were afraid.

When he was sure no one would hear, he slipped the cellphone out of the bag and dialed your number. The tone lasted a fraction of a second before it was replaced with your frantic voice.

Just as he feared, you were beside yourself with grief.

"Hawks?" You whimpered, and he released a long breath. Your voice was like a lullaby, even when it wavered with sadness.

"Yup," he chimed. He was obviously exhausted. Agony wracked through his damaged body. His voice wavered with the pain, but he tried to stay chipper despite it. He'd already worried you enough. "I'm sure you saw what happened today. I just wanted to tell you I'm okay."

"Oh, my—Thank god," you gasped through your tears. That phrase whimpered through the speaker over and over as you tried to get a hold of yourself.

To hear you cry was a pain unlike any villain could inflict, but to know you cared so deeply warmed Hawks' core just like your quirk.

"Don't cry, Sweetheart," he assured, though his voice was frail and wavered. "It'll take a lot more than that villain had in him to keep me from getting home to you."

You choked on a sob.

"I—I have to put you on speaker," you said, and then there was a clatter as your phone dropped to the floor. It must have been burning in your grip.

"It's alright," he repeated until your voice returned, but it did little to console you. He was the one wrapped in gauze and new wounds, but you were the one wearing all the tears.

"It was so hard to watch. It was brutal , and when you stopped moving… I'm sorry—I had to turn the T.V. off, I'm so sorry." You sobbed into the phone, as if you failed him somehow.

"No, I'm glad you didn't watch it all. I'm so, so sorry you had to see that."

"I thought you died."

He went quiet. No words could erase what you'd seen. Had he only been faster, better, you never would have.

"I turned it back on to watch the news. I hoped to hear you were okay…" you managed through crying. "They never said, but they interviewed citizens who were so… excited . They talked like it was a spectacle. A TV show. I can't understand. You were beaten, but people still celebrated."

Hawks melted into the stiff mattress. He hadn't seen the news yet, nor what the people said about his standoff with the toxic villain. What he did know, however, was that you had difficulty understanding civilians even at the best of times.

Another isolating side effect of your years in the facility.

"They were just relieved no one got hurt—"

" You got hurt! My husband is not a disposable soldier, do you understand me?" You were hysterical, which tugged at his heart in the most painful way. "You are not replaceable!"

"I know, I know. Not to you," he reasoned, his tone even and calm. "I'm your partner. I have been since we were kids. Of course the civilians on T.V. aren't going to feel your same anxiety, Honeybee. They aren't waiting for me to come home to them."

The sobbing through his phone wavered into soft whimpers. He frowned, and the conversation devolved into a mournful duet as his birdlike coos intermingled with your sniffling.

"But I am coming home to you. I swear it."

"When?"

"My wings are out of commission for now, and the doctors don't want me in the air until I've recovered… but, I might be able to make the flight if I–"

"No… no. Don't push yourself when you're wounded. You need to be where the doctors can help you."

"I don't wanna be alone in the penthouse. I miss you."

"I know you do," You said. Your voice became wispy and reminiscent as you dipped your toes into a sea of memories. Memories that felt so very old, despite how little time had passed.

"Before the cabin, you'd break into my cell and see me when you got hurt. Or we'd sit together in the commission library and share breakfast while I warmed you up. I don't miss that terrible place, but I do miss seeing you so much. And being there for you when these things happen."

"You still warm me up just the same."

That earned him a laugh through the grainy cell phone speaker. It was followed with a sniffle, likely as you wiped the wetness from your face with a sleeve.

"Do you ever think about… quitting?"

"Quitting?"

"Heroing," you specified. "I know you've worked for this our whole lives, and I know you just started the agency. Still… I could warm you up every morning if you came home and stayed."

A far less comfortable silence settled between you. The request was made from a place of fear, he knew that. You bore witness to his beating. Of course, as his wife, you'd tempt him into never being hurt like that again.

"Honey–"

"I know, I know…," you said, stopping him from saying what you didn't want to hear. "I know what you'll say and I can't argue. The city is far better off with you around. So many people would have died tonight had you not been there. I'm… I am so proud of everything you do."

His mouth felt full of cotton, and his crusty eyes fell peacefully closed. He nestled a little harder into the phone, as if it would somehow give him more of you.

"I've lived vicariously through that spirit of yours for so long," you confessed. A bittersweet sadness settled into your lungs and spread through the words you chose for him. "After all of the terror and pain my existence caused, taking care of you has become my mission. It makes me feel like… every time you save a life, there is some of me there, too. It brings me so much peace, all the good you do. But that good will go away—for the city and for me—if you die."

"I'll do better," he said. "I'll be more careful, but keep fighting for a world that doesn't need me anymore. Then I'll retire up there with you. I promise."

You laughed again, gentler this time.

"A world that doesn't need you… I don’t think such a thing could exist."

He hummed a pleased tune at your sweet reply.

"Can I ask a favor?"

"Of course, anything," you said.

"Can you stay on the phone until I fall asleep?"

Creak.

His door slid open, startling him.

"You don't have to ask," you answered, unaware. "I'll be right here as long as you need me."

In the doorframe stood an ill-timed intruder. She stared at him, blond brows quirked upwards as if she'd caught him in a crime. The president of the HPSC. How long had she been out there? Had she heard his sweet nothings? The six feet of distance between him and the oppressive force was not enough.

“Sorry, Jeanist,” he replied. “Seems I have a visitor. I'll have to call you back.”

Silence was his answer. Right away, you knew someone untrustworthy invaded his space. Someone who couldn't know he was speaking to you. The soft static of the call disappeared when you begrudgingly hung up.

He placed his phone on his lap.

“It’s past visiting hours, don’t you know?” he teased, but the president didn’t humor him.

“Funny, Jeanist sounded a lot like a woman through your speaker.”

“ Pfft, I’ll do you a favor and won’t tell him you said that.”

Something about her made him feel like a child. Maybe it was the scornful look that tormented him in his training days. Maybe it was the way she crossed her arms as she did it, just to drive home how unhappy she was with his performance.

Maybe it was because of the terrifying power she held over him.

"If you don't prove you're worth the investment, we'll have to retract our support for your family," she would say every time he fell short of her extraordinary expectations of him. This woman held his life, his mother's life, in her hands since he was just a child. But that tired old threat wouldn't work now that he could pad his mom's bank account with the loose yen in his pockets.

His late night call to his wife may have given her ammo. An ominous feeling settled into his gut.

The president stepped into his room, and her hands dropped down to her sides. Her eyes settled into his. There was no relief in them for his safety. They were cold and calculating as they’d always been. Despite the shiver down his spine, he wore his well-rehearsed smile.

She scanned his broken body and uttered: “I inquired with the hospital and was told it was critical. I came to see your condition and weigh our options.”

Hawks wasn’t a person. He was a utility; only worth what he could provide for the people using him. That feeling was never as strong as it was that night.

He wanted to go home.

“All business as usual, I see. I’m bedridden, but I don’t even get a ‘ how are you?’ ,” he asked, and she scoffed.

“You were ordered to neutralize your opponent, Hawks. Had you done so before he transformed—like you were told—you wouldn't be here right now."

"If I had done as I was told he wouldn't be here right now."

"That man is a villian!"

"And I'm a hero," Hawks said, managing a cavalier shrug despite the agony in his collar bone. "My job is to help people, not judge whether or not they're worthy of being saved. I caught the bad guy and no one got hurt, I’d say that’s a perfectly suitable outcome."

Her jaw clenched in frustration.

"That girl ruined you."

Those words rattled around inside his head as he blinked at her, baffled.

"Pardon?"

“She's always been a distraction,” she continued, more to herself than to Hawks. The wrinkles on her face deepened as she grimaced. “If you don’t step up your performance, I’m going to have to remove the distraction from the equation. Do you understand me?”

A pang of panic shot through his chest and numbed his face.

“I have no idea what you’re on about. Are you threatening me, Ms. President?”

His unbothered facade could be deceptively genuine, but he could not hide from the president with the manipulative tactics her people taught him.

“Perhaps I was not clear enough.”

She reached into her pants pocket, and then extracted her fist. He was not prepared for her fingers to uncurl, revealing a precious part of him he assumed to be lost on the battlefield.

His wedding ring.

“I know who you were on the phone with, and I know she has the twin to this band. I’ve been quiet about your involvement in her escape this long, Hawks. Don't make me have to do something about it."

Her words were so sharp that they cut him down to his bones. His breath got heavy, stinging his wounded lungs. His palms sweat through their acid burns and cotton filled his mouth.

"You suddenly have nothing to say?” The edge of her lip quirked into the smallest smirk, and then his ring disappeared again in her fist. “So now that we’re on the same page, pay close attention to what I’m telling you."

She approached his bedside and sat in the chair beside him. The one that was outdated and ugly, the one you should have been sitting in.

“I know your judgement is clouded when it comes to that girl, but she's a dangerous villain responsible for a national tragedy. Hundreds of innocent civilians and heroes alike died in her fiery grip. The public would be in a panic to learn she escaped custody, and likely enraged it’d been hidden from the media for well over a year. Do you understand what I've sacrificed so that you can play house with this girl?"

He continued his disobedient silence.

"We have every resource to apprehend the fugitive, if necessary. And, of course, if such a dangerous villain were to be recaptured we couldn't risk the possibility of escape again. We'd be forced to do what is best for the safety of the greater public. Do you understand?"

For the first time in years, Hawks was truly afraid.

She'd always been untrustworthy and underhanded, just like the organization she spearheaded. He kept you as far away from them as he could, but he never thought the president would come to his ailing bedside to threaten to take his wife from him. And in the worst possible way.

We could hurt her, is what she was saying. And if we have to find her, we will. We will, and it'll be your fault.

His heart never hurt so badly before, and every part of him wanted to scream.

“What do you want from me?” he asked, defeated. His faćade cracked, and she seemed pleased to know her objective had been fulfilled. He was afraid, just as she needed him to be.

She dropped his wedding band into his lap.

“I expect obedience. As long as you carry out your duties there will be no reason to interfere in your personal life. I trust that you won’t give me a reason to."

❅❅❅

The next day he was discharged.

"No work and no flying," his doctor reminded him. "Stay at home and rest."

How could he simply lie still? He was filled to the brim with anxiety thanks to the president and her threats. She didn't know where he'd hidden you away, but they were looking .

He sat in the waiting room and chewed on his nails until a suited man came to escort him to his penthouse. Unsurprisingly, there were no words exchanged as Hawks crawled into the back of the unmarked car and picked at his cuticles. There wasn't a farewell, either, when he slunk out of the vehicle and onto the crowded street. Thankfully he didn't get swept away by a river of ecstatic passerbys. His tattered state left him looking so unlike himself no one noticed his presence at all. He limped into his agency building and took the elevator all the way to the top, where his penthouse was perched.

Nothing within it could be trusted. The clothes in his closet were left hanging in fear of trackers. No words were uttered in case of hidden microphones. Tiny feathers swept through his apartment to search for invasive cameras. He found nothing out of the ordinary, but it didn't ease his anxiety.

Sparing that villain's life was undoubtedly the right thing to do, but doing so enraged the commission. What if they already found you? What if they decided you were the one to suffer for his disobedience? He sat on the edge of his couch, trying to calm his terror-stricken mind. But there was no hope for relief. He couldn't call home in fear of being heard, and he couldn't relax until he knew you were safe.

Despite the doctor's warnings and the singed tuffs where his wings once were, he jumped off his balcony. The pathetic nubs on his back were well beyond their limit. The small bits that were left of them stung against the harsh wind as he flew away from the city.

His fear for your safety drove him through miles of pain, but his sorry state fought him all along the way. He landed frequently on rural power poles and barn roofs to regain himself. As well as to make sure he wasn't being followed. Still, he did not stop, not even as the sky around him turned grey and rain began to pelt at his wounded back. Eventually, the mountain greeted him on the horizon.

His avian eyes scanned through the forest for the cabin, which was hidden on one of the mountain's steep faces. A faint speck of orange light cut through the lazy shades of grey and green. The kitchen light was on.

The strenuous flight took its toll on his already aching body. Hawks' pathetic wings had become too weak to flare open and resist the wind that careened him forward. He tried to pull back as he dropped towards the cabin, but there was no hope of landing safely. A cry tore from his throat as he slammed into the widow's walk. The structure groaned as he rolled helplessly across the wooden planks. His feathered back hit the railing. It knocked the wind from him for a second time, but prevented him from plummeting off the roof.

The storm continued to rage on above him. It cried fresh-water tears into his already soaked clothing, but the instinct to seek shelter was muffled by the pain in his limbs. The doctor's warning rattled in his loose skull. He made it home, but was unable to even stand.

"Oh, Hawks!"

He lifted his head. There you were, climbing onto the deck. The wild thump of his heart rattled his aching ribcage. He tried to push himself onto his legs, desperate to get to you, but a stabbing pain shot through his abdomen and left him crumpled on the rain-stained oak. Water slapped beneath your feet as you rushed to his side. Your voice shot through the air like the rolling thunder, frantic and booming—angry.

“What did you do?!” you demanded as you, too, crashed to the floor. Your knees landed before him, stinging from how hard they dropped. “Did you fly here?! The doctor told you to rest! I told you to stay in the city—My god, you’re bleeding!”

So small he seemed without healthy, full plumage. His clothes stuck to his body from the beating rain, and blood seeped from reopened wounds. Still, he pushed up to see you, squinting through the rain.

"You're an idiot, an idiot ," you cried as your hands wiped at his crinkled eyes, as if you could battle the raindrops away from his vision. "Why? Why would you do something to stupid?"

The president's foreboding visit to his bedside is what drove him back home through the storm. Even if wounded, he needed to be there to stand guard over his nest. But your peace of mind was his to protect.

"I had to be with you," he said, still squinting through the water and the agony in his ribs.

"You wh–?..."

You didn't look any less furious, but your brows furrowed upwards until your face turned red. A pained huff escaped his sore throat as you pulled him into an embrace. The comfort of your arms enveloped his aching body in gentle warmth, and the sweet scent of your shampoo nearly brought him to tears. He pressed his face into your neck to breathe in the smell of you through the petrichor.

A robe tightened around your waist was all that covered you. It slid off your shoulders, and it was tossed onto his shaking form to shield him from the rain. The loving gesture rendered you naked in the storm, but it mattered more to you that Hawks was protected.

In the presence of your unconditional care, he regained his humanity.

"Can you stand on your own?"

He shook his head against your collar.

Painstakingly, you helped him off the widow's walk and into the house. Blood seeped into the dark grey of his hoodie, staining it as you sat him on the living room couch. His soggy clothes were stripped away to assess the damage from his fall. His pants and boxers laid on a heap on the floor as you carefully removed his hoodie. Your face twisted into a grimace at the wounds hidden beneath it.

“I can’t believe you did this,” you said, disappointed in his recklessness. He said nothing in his defense as you pulled the feathery little lumps on his back through their wing holes. They were plagued with a terrible itch thanks to his regrowing feathers, so they fluttered wildly in your grasp.

“I know it hurts. Work with me here.”

He gritted his teeth together, but relaxed his wounded wings. Thanks to your nimble hands, they were soon freed from his hoodie. His body was fully exposed, as well as every new bruise and painfully reopened wound. He sat still as your fingers ran gently over the mess of stitched flesh across his ribcage.

“That villain… he really hurt you.”

Blood dripped like rivers from the gash. Many of the stitches popped during his journey home. No matter how much you attempted to compress the wound with dry towels, the exceptional flow of blood would not slow.

“I have to cauterize this.” The blank look on your face made his guts churn. He only nodded as the tip of your pointer finger began to glow white. His teeth gritted hard as you ran your fingertip, slowly and with purpose, along the crack of skin spurting blood. You were exceptionally careful, your focus unbroken until the burning pain slowed to a stop at the edge of the wound.

He sighed in relief when you were finished, but grimaced when he tried to sit up straight.

“Stop moving. Lay down. I will bring you food and water.”

His eyes burned their worry into you as you wandered into the kitchen. He sent a feather in search of you when his eyes couldn’t follow.

A red mark smeared onto the faucet labeled hot as you turned it. The water became so scalding that steam flowed from the basen of the sink, but only then did you dip your hands into the stream. Your expression remained unreadable as your husband's blood darkened the water.

You were in pieces, and it was his fault.

Just one day before you watched as Hawks, the only other human being in your life, was beaten to the brink of death on live television. Despite the unimaginable fear for his life, you asked only one small favor of him: to be more careful. Now you were left to wash his blood off your hands.

What kind of man puts his loved one through so much heartache?

A plate balanced in your clean hands when you returned. It was likely meant to be stacked with a meal for him, but it was empty. The floor creaked as you sat on the hardwood beside the couch, close to Hawks. You didn’t bother dressing him, or fetching a dry robe for yourself for that matter. With that far off look in your eyes you likely didn't notice you were naked at all.

"Honey?"

No reply came. He only wanted to be there to protect you, but jeopardizing his life to ease his anxieties was selfish. Now, you were so distraught by his decisions that you reverted to the trained silence of your youth.

“Honey, can you hear me?"

That short phrase snapped you out of limbo.  The dish in your grasp was noticed, then, and you blinked, bewildered by its emptiness. Your eyes peered around the living room as if it were alien to you.

"How did I get back in the—Damn it," you grumbled. "I needed to take care of you, so I got the leftovers out and… Did I? I was so sure I…"

The plate was tossed across the floor, several feet away, as if you couldn't bear the physical reminder of your instability. Your head hung into your cupped hands, which grew ever hotter.

"… I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he said.

"It's not okay, you almost sacrificed your life to save strangers last night and I can't even—and I can't even…" your voice trailed off as you stared into your hands. They radiated white light from their palms, and the temperature of the room rose steadily as your heart pounded.

A hand much bigger than your own clasped around your wrist. It was scarred and worn, just like yours, though it shook faintly. Your eyes tore from the danger lingering in your own cursed limbs to settle in Hawks' angular eyes instead.

"Did you know Endeavor has the highest number of resolved cases in history?" He asked. Both of his eyes were still blackened, and his voice wavered with pain. Still, a playful smile tugged at his cracked lips.

"H-huh?—Oh, my god."

"And his wife has an ice quirk... You know what that means?"

You sighed, but a little smile of your own betrayed you. "What?"

"It means my wife is hotter than his."

" Hawks!"

“And his flames get to 3,000 degrees! You’re hotter than them both .”

“ Stoooop.”

Laughter erupted from you. It was so joyful and childish, just like it was when it used to fill the commission library. For one gentle moment, the anger and tension dissolved into comfortable peace. Carefully, you leaned into him, resting your head on his bruised bicep. Your laughter began to change. It morphed into tears, the wetness from your emotion wetted his arm as you pressed your face hard into it.

“I’m so glad you’re alive.”

❅❅❅

“Ah! There are so many of them. I’m gonna be seeing your feathers in my sleep."

“Mm, feels really good, though.”

It’d been three days since he crashed onto the roof, and most of that time was spent helping his rapidly regrowing feathers along. Just as a bird, they sprouted in long, cylindrical casings that needed to be crushed away to release the pretty new feathers within them. He sat up in bed with you at his back, picking at the cuticles. Slowly, his wings returned to their full glory.

“Hmm, they’re dark at the tips. Black, almost,” you admired as your fingers ran through a freshly regrown clump of plumage. They were patterned subtly, but beautifully, and they shimmered in the blue light of dawn as he fluttered them.

“It's nesting season,” he said.

The gargantuan size of his wingspan unfurled before you. They trembled as they pumped lazily, stretching the limbs for the first time since they'd been stripped of feathers. You admired them, as well as your handiwork.

"So it is. I figured that's why you've been so cuddly. You've been singing to me at night, too."

His cheeks flushed, and he looked straight ahead; away from you. Every night, when you laid in bed together, he tugged at your pajamas and ran his fingers through your hair, trilling a soft bird song as he did so. The melody was the most beautiful of his calls, but rare. It was only for you, and only when balmy weather melted the snow and breathed life back into the mountain.

Just as the little songbirds who raised their babies in your window sills, Hawks was enticed by the spring.

"Yeah, sorry," he mumbled. "It's been gnawing at the back of my head since I got home. I can't shake it."

"Don't apologize. I've only been ignoring it because of your wounds, but you were singing loud last night. It's getting unbearable for you, isn't it?"

From over his shoulder, you saw his jaw clench hard. But he didn't answer. You ran your hands up between his scarred shoulder blades, and his newly patterned feathers bristled up at the intimate sensation.

“I wish you wouldn't be ashamed of it.”

He shook his head.

"I've put you through so much, and now I'm keeping you up at night. This isn't the time to be begging for sex like an animal."

Hawks has always been distant from his primal needs. To ignore them was his usual tactic, which led to confusion and frustration that built until he became unhinged. If he just allowed himself to enjoy spring he wouldn't handle you like an overexcited toddler petting a kitten. Lovingly, but with aggression and no restraint.

Your lips pressed gently against the back of his neck to quiet him. The gesture coaxed his song to whisper from the bottom of his throat, a reflex that felt impossible to control when you showed him such affection.

"I thought I lost you," you said, and his wings again puffed and flexed as you leaned into his back. Your hot fingers ran up his healing sides until they joined together around his chest. His wedding ring bumped into your fists. "Your instincts are telling you to be close to me. I can understand your frustration, but… I think that closeness is something we both need right now."

"I broke the promise I made, to be more careful. Aren't you angry with me?"

You laughed.

"I want to enjoy being your wife while I have the chance. Nothing else matters."

❅❅❅

With your gentle assurances, Hawks unlocked the birdcage. The unquenchable desire that followed was nothing new. You were his chosen mate since his very first nesting season, so you were attuned to the ritual.

The first order of business was to properly nest. His excessive wounds demanded bedrest, so you scoured the house for soft building materials on his behalf. A low, pleased hum trilled from his sore throat each time you returned with fluffy things. He couldn't move well, but he'd nestle each new find into plush walls. After a day or so of this careful process, a chunky structure engulfed the bed below him. There was no mistaking the creation for anything other than what it was: a bird's nest.

"It's ready," he decided, his wings all fluffy with excitement. They gave a few mighty flaps, and a burst of air gusted through the room. They remained outstretched in a massive display that dwarfed the furniture beneath him. Morning's light filtered through their deep red veins, illuminating the intricate patterns of his springtime plumage. If the flaring of his wings was meant to impress and entice you they did their job.

Unbeknownst to the strange animal, this is the nesting season to give him a chick.

"Come here."

You did as you were told, crawling into the bed of soft scraps. That song of his returned again, gentle and soft. He greeted you with it as he nudged his face into your neck, breathing in the smell of you and nibbling at your warm skin. The sensation made you giggle and curl your toes. His wings reacted to your joy, folding around you.

His aching hands trailed along your sides and his feathers tickled your back, but your focus was between his legs. His cock was uncomfortably hard beneath his sweats, forming a tent in the cloth. He was trying to be gentle despite his wild hormones, but you what he needed to be satisfied. A soft gasp spilled from him as your hand slid up his thigh to his crotch. Your palm pressed into the softness of his pajama bottoms, where you cupped and squeezed gently. The sweet bird call again echoed off of the walls, only louder. Encouraged by his cooing, your fingers explored the shape in his bottoms to tease him.

"Handsy," he commented with a pained chuckle, followed by a cough. He was still in sour shape.

"Does it feel good?" You asked.

"Y-yeah."

"I could make it feel even better."

His breath caught in his throat, and he nodded. His eyes fixed to yours, still half-lidded, but blazen with desire. A coy grin tugged at your lips. Your fingertips trailed up to his waistband, and a low growl worked from his throat when the drawstring came undone.

"Now, you can't get too violent," you said, but then kissed the tip of his nose. He blinked. "I know it's difficult to contain yourself, especially right now, but be gentle this time."

"How come? You like it when I'm rough."

"You're all beat to hell, that's how come. I don't want more stitches to pop."

"Whadda you want from me? To just sit here?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I want," you breathed, your voice low and sultry as you tugged at his waistband. "Let me take care of you."

He nodded, but his hands gripped the nest walls so hard his knuckles turned white. You hadn't even pulled his dick out and he was already struggling. It was lovely.

Your lips pressed delicately into his belly; into the small bit of chub below his navel. You followed his thin happy trail down to his waistband, decorating his still-healing wounds with your kisses. A gruff whimper filled the room. He rolled his hips, wanton for your warm grip on his sex.

"Desperate, huh?"

"Yes, god, I missed this," he said. "I missed you."

Your hand slipped into his sweatpants. His cock was stiff and left wetness all over your palm. What a beautiful thing it was to bask in his sexuality, the only part of him you never had to share with the civilians he often left you to protect.

“Oh, sweetie, you’re already dripping.”

He groaned.

“Don't worry, I'll make it better.”

With a tug, his cock sprung free. His body trembled at the sensation of your fingertips trailing along the length of it, and the heat of your breath lingered at its leaking tip. The pad of your thumb ran through the sticky mess, rubbing it into the soft head of his cock as you licked your lips.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he whimpered.

You fisted his sex in your hand and brought it to your lips, lapping softly at his watering slit. The hitch in his breath encouraged you to slide him into the back of your throat. A feeling his body reacted intensely to, though he winced with each intense inhale. His hands found your hair, where they tangled tightly, and you gagged as he pushed himself in deeper.

You didn’t resist, instead you stilled and relaxed your throat for his pleasure.

Filthy praises gushed from his lips as he bucked into you. With each hard hit to the back of your throat, you resisted the urge to gag. At least until he inhaled sharply and his cock throbbed in your mouth. Already, he spilled onto the back of your tongue.

You gasped in a breath when his dick fell out, and coughed before struggling to swallow down the mess he made.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his face still hot and his sex still throbbing hard. “You said not to be rough- I’m trying.”

“It’s okay. I should have known better than to ask that of you right now."

His cock cupped into your hands again as you stroked him. Several kisses decorated it's tip, red and still leaking. You lapped at his slit, cleaning him up until the white flowing from him became clear and sticky again. His hunger wasn't appeased by spilling his seed into your throat. He needed to be buried deep in your pussy for his desperation to subside, at least for an hour or so before he'd tear into you again.

You pulled yourself onto his hips, your little nightgown riding up to your sides as you straddled him. His bare cock nudged against the wet spot on your panties, and again his breath became haggard. You beared down, rubbing your sex into his groin, separated only by the thin layer of cloth between you.

A shrill bird cry echoed through the bedroom.

Hawks was still weak and recovering, but his desire got the best of him. His hands found the meat of your hips, and his nails sank deep into your skin as his predatory grip ensnared you. You hummed as you pulled your panties to the side; your bare sexes pressed together. The shape of his cock against your wet petals made your mouth water. Perhaps you were just as ravenous as your husband.

He panted. His wet eyes were half-lidded, and his mouth cracked open for heavy breaths as he stared down between your bodies. Redness stained his ivory cheeks, a sure sign that he was already love drunk.

“Your pussy is so fucking warm. Please, please. Put me in. I can't fucking handle it."

Your core shivered with pins and needles. Pressing his throbbing cock into your body's cradle was an act of mercy by that point. His eyes fluttered as he sank inside, and his mouth pressed into a hard line as you began to move. Finally, he laid back against the bed and let you have control. Every gnarly wound on his torso was visible as you bounced on his hips. He winced with each breath, proving his sex fogged mind still felt the pain.

You sat up straight and rolled your hips in circles to tend to his cock without hurting him.

"Y-yes. Fuck. Oh my god," he choked out. Praises gushed from him like rivers as your pussy squeezed his sex.

"Y-you're so wet. So wet. Harder. Please, please. I need more!"

This was the part of nesting season that scared him. The point of no return. He easily became so intoxicated with a cocktail of hormones and love that his good sense was abandoned entirely, leaving only the bird at the helm. You pumped around his cock until his only thought was how badly he needed to paint your womb with his colors.

A gasp erupted from you as he sat up and grabbed your hips hard. The wild fluttering of his wings beat about the sides of the nest as he rolled on top of you, his breath hitching in your ear before he began to suck on it. He was far past sanity's threshold. His instinct demanded he lock you beneath him at the first inkling of his orgasm, and, like a good mate, you encouraged him to come.

Your legs wrapped tightly around his hips as he rammed erratically into you. A cry ripped from his throat with every wet slap, his face reddening as his eyes squeezed tightly closed. A shiver rolled through his muscles as he pressed deep inside.

"Yes," he breathed through his teeth, setting your core ablaze as your legs shook against your will. He pulled back, leaving you empty, only to slam back into you so hard the bed whined.

" Oh, oh. Yeah, y-yeah," he cried.

Together, you laid in blissful quiet as his cock's muscles squeezed and flexed, spurting his seed into the bottom of your welcoming body. His hips occasionally rolled, nudging the watering tip of his cock against the small, swollen ring it found there. He tensed hard every time he felt it, his arms squeezing you so tight he nearly took your breath.

"H-Hawks–" you whimpered.

His killer grip loosened as he slowly came down from his high. He blinked sense back into his eyes, and his heavy panting fell into an even, relaxed pattern of breath. Once he regained his strength, he moved between your thighs to clean you. Shocks of pleasure shot up your spine while the pad of his tongue slid over your slit, lapping the mess you made together away. In thanks, you ran your fingers through his hair.

The rest of the day was spent in your arms. His freshly-regrown plumage settled over the top of the bed, cocooning your naked bodies safely together. He couldn't get close enough to you, nuzzling between your bare breasts as his arms wound around your frame.

Hawks understood why most non-mutants were put off by sexual cycles like his. The nest would be your home for the several days that followed, that time spent pinned beneath him as he whimpered desperately for release. Perhaps it was because of how many springs you spent by his side, but you understood that nesting season was more than just sex.

It was a time of bonding.

Your fingers picked through his new fathers, preening them back into place after all his excited puffing. There wasn't a drop of bird in your blood,  but you hummed his special call back to him as you recuperated together in the aftermath. Excited chirps from him followed. Your eyes closed, and you smiled as you memorized their melody.

For whatever reason, his eyes began to prick with water

"Don't let go of me," he said. "Please, don't ever let go."

"Never," you declared, breathless. "I will never let go."

He couldn't have known that a child would be born from that moment. Your birth control pill had allowed him to fulfill his needs without consequence for years, but it'd been put to the test far too many times. Still, the desperate need to express his affections was the core of every spring, as well as every time he made love with you. That, and for no other reason, is why Kettei existed.

Because you loved each other.

How could he ever say he didn't want that baby?

=───※ ·❆· ※───=

A tense gust blew from Hawks' flared nostrils as the doctor's bad news sank in. His lungs were so full of anxious breaths that he would have floated away if not for the seven pounds of baby holding him down.

His son’s wing was deformed, and it may never lift him from the ground.

Hawks' weren't the only attentive pair of eyes on Kettei, however. Water welled in the brim of your vision as your husband's thumbs ran reassuring circles into the baby's delicate feet.

"So… you don't think his wing will ever work?" You asked the doctor, lip quivering.

"It likely will not," was the reply. Her eyes stared straight into yours with a certainty that made your stomach churn. "But we're going to try everything in our power to treat it before we say that for sure."

"Is there something I could have done better?" You gnawed on your lip to keep from whimpering, but the tears budding in your eyes gave away your sadness. "Something to have prevented this?"

Hawks wasn't surprised to hear such a sad notion from your lips. Most of your life was wasted shouldering unimaginable blame, but to fault yourself for Kettei's wing sent a pang of sorrow through Hawks' ribs like nothing had before. Most of the joys people had in life were denied to you. What a tragedy it was for you to feel like anything less than a wonderful mother.

"Are you kidding? Of course not," he said, but it came out with more emotion than he intended.

"You did everything you were supposed to. Kettei's wing isn't like this because you did something wrong. It's just… like this," he said as he gestured to the tiny boy wriggling around on his chest. Said wing was crumpled against Kettei's back and quite pathetic looking next to its healthy twin.

"No offense, Kiddo."

Kettei just smacked his lips together, blissfully unaware. He finally settled down, once again mesmerized by the feathers on his daddy's back. His little hands kept squeezing into fists as if he wanted to grab one, but he hadn't figured out how fingers worked yet.

"He's right. It's no one's fault," the doctor affirmed. "You safely delivered a healthy little boy. No matter what becomes of his wing there should be nothing in the way of him having a full, happy life."

"You hear that, Chickpea?" Hawks then looked down at your son with a wide, open mouthed smile and an excited gasp. "He's okay! Aren't you, tiny man?"

Kettei didn't know what to make of his father's gushing. He settled with sucking on his fingers as he gawked at the feathered man.

"Tell her, Kettei."

Hawks gently took Kettei's tiny fist, the one he wasn't nomming on, between his fingers and waved it at you.

"Don't worry, Mama!" Hawks said on the baby's behalf. And in a silly voice, no less. " I'm gonna be fine!"

Your bottom lip puffed out, and tears finally dripped down your face. He leaned close to you, bringing your son near enough for you to feel the softness of his feathers between the warmth of your trembling fingers.

"You're gonna be fine," you repeated softly, though you were reassuring yourself more than your son. Carefully, Hawks laid the baby in the comfort of your arms.

"Oh, hello, my little one. Hello," you greeted, smiling wide despite your quivering chin.

Kettei waved his chucky little arms around, and his face morphed into random expressions as he familiarized himself with his muscles. The tension was lost to the infant. His eyes were filled only with curiosity and wonder as they explored the bedroom he was born in. This was all Hawks' son knew of life thus far; the safety of the nest his father built, filled with the warmth of his mother's love.

With everything Hawks had in him, he would ensure Kettei's happiness.

“I’m going to see the doctor out.”

Hawks placed a kiss in your hair before he stood from the nest, leaving you and Kettei within it’s short, braided walls. Your hand moved to stop him, taking a firm hold onto the meat of his forearm.

“Don’t—” you said. "Don't leave."

An understanding smile worked its way onto his lips, soft and sad.

“Oh, Sweetheart, I'm not going anywhere,” he promised. "Let Kettei finish his breakfast, I'll be right back."

You let him go. For the first time in Kettei’s life, but far from the last, his father left his side. Hawks left the bedroom with the doctor, who he escorted downstairs and into the living room.

“I’ll check my schedule and give you a ring. We’ll get Kettei in as soon as possible for his vaccines and a treatment plan,” she said as she slipped her winter coat back onto her shoulders. It was still wet with melted snow. The winter seeped in swirls of white flecks when the front door swung open before her.

“Wait…” he managed, and she idled in the doorframe’s threshold.

"This probably goes without saying," Hawks muttered as his eyes locked into the doctor's. "But my wife and I—we like to keep our personal life private. She handles herself well, but she's more delicate than she seems. Especially after having the baby. I don't want them waking up to news vans."

Or the commission on the doorstep.

"I understand, but don't worry. I take my job and my patients' confidentiality seriously," she assured as she hoisted her bag strap over her shoulder.

His beautiful secret was in the hands of a stranger now, and if anything happened to you or the baby while he was away he wouldn’t know until he came back to an empty house. The anxiety that'd been building your whole lives began to boil up and over.

He didn't believe her.

“They mean more to me than anything,” he pleaded. He said so little, but those wet eyes conveyed his absolute desperation. "You’re the only one who knows they’re mine.”

She stood on the porch despite winter nipping at her back. Snowflakes collected in her high, fluffy bun and mist slipped from between her dark lips. Her work there was completed, but she bore the cold anyway as her face softened for him.

"You likely don't remember me, but we met once before," she said. Hawks blinked at her, bewildered.

“We have?”

"My family and I lived in Fukuoka a couple years ago, when you made your debut. A villian went into a rampage and destroyed several buildings. My children and I were in the living room, watching movies, when the ceiling caved in. It was your feathers that pulled us out of the wreckage. If not for you, my kids would have died that night."

She patted the small collection of pins on her work bag, referencing the enamel red wings she had there, “my youngest clips your wings onto our things for good luck."

His shoulders lowered, as well as said wings, which had been squeezing tight against his back. She was right, he didn't remember her, but that was to be expected. His feathers have pulled hundreds of civilians out of harm's way since his debut. Their faces all blurred together over time.

The gratitude of civilians had become commonplace for Hawks, but, despite having heard similar tales time and time again, the doctor's story struck a personal cord in him he never felt before. Why did tears threaten to prick his eyes? Perhaps it was because he knew how it felt to hold his child in his arms. And he couldn't imagine a more terrible nightmare than never being able to again.

"I'm sorry that happened, but I'm relieved these wings of mine were of such great help."

"You have no idea. But after the attack we moved here to get away from the danger, as well as the prejudice."

"Prejudice?"

She laughed, though he detected a hint of bitterness in it.

"Our home was gone, but the shelters wouldn't take us in. My husband is a sought after surgeon, a good man who’s saved lives. But when he needed help himself, all anyone saw was his face.”

“He’s a mutant,” Hawks interjected.

“Yes. He looks more bear than man, as do our sons. I don't have to tell you how hard it was, being a mutant yourself."

"Well, people usually just see a man when they look at me," he replied, though he felt somehow guilty for saying it.

"That hardly matters. My sons often got into arguments over your heteromorph status," she said, frowning. "To them, it's comforting that the man who saved their lives could relate to their struggles. Their classmates, though, didn't like the idea that you are as bird as you are human. The people who supposedly adore you reject a huge part of who you are."

She was right.

Most were bothered with his birdlike needs, so they created a more acceptable version of him in their minds—one that was simply a winged man rather than a true avian. The nest he wove to keep his pregnant mate warm, his instinct to preen his very first nestling, and Kettei's tiny bird songs; they were all intimate, beautiful things those strangers would resent. Articles on their blogs lamented that it was uncomfortable to imagine Hawks being a bird.

Funny that he couldn't recall inviting them to.

"It's difficult at times, yes. It bothers me more knowing Kettei will have to deal with it, since he takes so much after me."

“Exactly. You understand, it's always harder when it's your children... This is frustrating for me, actually—you saved my kids. They're still alive, thanks to you, but you've also given them a sense of pride in their quirks I could never achieve. But when your child needed my help I showed up late."

“No, no. My eyas made his debut in the middle of a snowstorm. It was a dangerous trip up here and I was far from welcoming, but you still came and helped my family. I’d say you and I are more than even.”

A smile graced her face, one that made his anxious heart settle comfortably.

"I was shocked when I saw you at her bedside, but it makes sense. Pair the city's culture with the horrific things you've seen as a hero—I understand why you’re afraid of anyone knowing where you’ve hidden your nest. What I'm trying to say is I have every intention of protecting your family like you did mine."

No words could convey the weight of his gratitude, but he offered her a smile. One that was not manufactured for cameras, but instead a show of his genuine relief. Somehow it made him look much older. He desperately scoured his mind for a meaningful way to thank her for her kindness, but he felt she already understood how much it meant to him.

[ac3id]

word count: 1182

warnings: dubcon, choking 18+

a/n: just another kirishima thirst post fkdkenwk i think i like him more than i like to admit 😐

navigation

ok but imagine: kirishima nii-chan.

you two aren’t really related. you are a close family friend whose parents work abroad half of the time so you live with the kirishima family. overtime everyone just accepts you as their own. heck, eijiro even introduces you to others as his sister. it’s easier calling you his little sister than actually explaining the living situation, people usually never buy the story anyways. you are his sister, his little sister to be exact and he’s your older brother. your older, stronger brother who is also a full fledged pro-hero. it’s a mouthful to brag about to your friends, you always talk about him. how he always manages to save the day no matter how bad the situation is, how he is always on magazine covers. he is your older brother and you love him. your friends are always jealous, some even ask for you to pair them up but you always deny. you know eijiro doesn’t have time to waste over dating– it’s what he has told you.

he also loves you. he loves you so very much. he cares for you with all of his heart but it’s still not the love you feel towards him. you see him as a beam of sunshine who is always ready to listen to your worries, guide you to the right direction when you are in the wrong. he’s your bestest friend, you couldn’t ask for anything more. but he could.

but he knows the feeling is one-sided, he is in love with you but you don’t love him back, he knows. his heart aches and guilt pools in his heart everytime he sees you, as his heart beats faster seeing your beautiful smile when you are around him; he is reminded of the cruel reality that he is in love with his little sister which he could never have but all the guilt and self pity vanishes when he is sniffing your panties and pumping his hard cock, imaging it was your velvety, tight cunt instead of his large hands. his sense of shame vanishes whenever he brushes his hands over your ass or how his fingers linger closer to your tits everytime he has his arms wrapped around you “platonically”. just siblings hugging, nothing to see here.

don’t get it wrong. eijiro cares about you too, he loves you but his love for you runs a little deeper. it crosses the platonic border which you have set up, it breaches through it. his love for you encompasses his entire body, mind and soul. he sees you as something more than his sister, his lover– his everything. his only.

you are oblivious, all the time. you never notice his lustful gaze or the way he stares at your tits. your naive, little head could never think of something like that. never. even when you feel uncomfortable from his super long hugs, you swear you can feel his graze his lips over your neck yet you never doubt him.

so, you never thought it would be a big deal if you dated his best friend.

you had met bakugou katsuki when kirishima had brought him over with a bundle of friends. out of all the energetic puppies, katuski caught your eye. he was different from the others, you couldn’t help but fall for him. luckily, he was into you too. it was not long before you two started dating.

for a while, you kept it hidden from the world and eijiro. it purely because you and katuski did not want to find yourselves in any scandals, but slowly you decided you would tell your close friends and family about your relationship. eijiro was the first to know, you were so eager to tell him. you were sure he would be so happy for you but alas, you were so wrong.

eijiro was furious. what do you mean you were dating katsuki? out everyone in the world? him? the thought of losing to his best friend snapped something in him. all of a sudden he was no longer the kind, gentle teddy bear you had known all your life. his eyes turned darker looking down at you with vexed, angry slits. you shuddered in fear as he hardened parts around his eyes, the loud cracking noise making you a step back.

“what’s wrong, eiji-nii?” it was ridiculous, both of you had grown out of that age but you still referenced with a “nii” at the end of his name. “what’s wrong? you tell me, [y/n].” you are left speechless. he has never said your name with such dread, ever. you gulp nervously saying nothing, breathing with the silence, “you–” his now quirk activated hand slams on the wooden table, creating a hole the size of his fist on the surface. “you whore.”

your eyes are blown out of your sockets, why would he call you that? tears prick at the corner of your eyes, you don’t want to cry but seeing him be so angry at you manages to fuck you up.

“eiji, why would you say that?” you begin, your voice meek and shirl, “y–you lying, ungrateful whore,” you don’t know what is making him like this but you move a step back as he takes one towards you, trying to maintain some safe distance from him. eijiro on the other hand only seems to grow more and more angrier, you gasp as your back hits the wall behind you. eijiro closes in, trapping you between his large body and the cold, grey wall. his left hand rests are the side of your head, sharp and hardened fingers digging into the wall while his other normal hands close around your neck. “you lie to me and go behind bakugou fucking katsuki? why?” the last word he speaks sounds weak and pathetic. there is a sadness in his voice about which you couldn’t care less about as he cuts off your air supply. your hands automatically claw at his arm, trying to pry it off you but it’s all in vain. he is much larger, taller and stronger than you. you couldn’t stand a chance.

you feel yourself slip out of your consciousness as you hear him spit angry curses, “all these years, i have loved you and go for him? you whore. it should be me. i should be the one making you happy, your favourite older brother. it should be me. you must be mine,” he continues with his ramble looking at your panicked face, relishing in the fear that dances across your eyes.

he lets you go, watches with glee as you fall down to your knees and cough trying to catch your breath. “break up with him. you are mine.” he groans, watching you with grim eyes. you nod desperately, not wanting him to hurt you any further.

a wicked, sinister smile crosses his face as he calms down, deactivating his quirk. he looks down at your pathetic form: glassy eyes and a dribble of drool falling past your lips. he is so proud. his little sister is finally his.

[lliblo]

BN16 Catazawa

Prompt

There are quite a few fics that have Aizawa Shouta turning into a cat with the shenanigans that follow. But what about a cat turning into Aizawa? Instead he was born as a quirked animal and was later adopted by Inko Midoryia. After sometime with the family he was hit by a wayward quirk during a villain attack. Now he’s a cat stuck as a human teenager. 

-EraserMic? -Aizawa helps train Izuku?  -Aizawa only refers to Nezu as mouse? 

Here’s a fun little twist on the human to cat trope. Stories like this have so much potential and I didn’t get to touch on even half of what I wanted too in my own fic. 

My Fic

Link: AO3 - https://archiveofourown.org/works/37329889/chapters/93147667

Summery: 

Being born without a name and only a cardboard box for shelter might have been worrying to some. That is if it weren't for the simple fact that he was a cat. As a quirked animal he smelt funny and in the rough world of survival of the fittest that was a good way to lose your primary caretaker before you’ve reached an age to fend for yourself.

Luckily, Aizawa Shouta found a new mother in the form of Midoriya Inko.

He vowed to dedicate himself to the mother that offered him unconditionally love and protection, something he would later need again as his life changed when he was hit by a wayward quirk turning him into a human teenager.

Follow Shouta’s life, both cat and human, as he stitches together his own little family that he’d not only die for, but kill for. Unfortunately dealing with the legal system sounds like a major inconvenience. So out of courtesy for the humans it’s something he’ll try to refrain from.

Rules for Use:

Feel free to expand or alter if this inspires you!

Repost a link to your fic on this post (I wanna read it!!)

Give proper credit and link this post in the fic itself (Pretty please?)

Return To: LlibLo’s Fan Fiction Prompt Index

[the-kinning-hour]

Does tumblr like fanfiction? Does tumblr like 5+1 things? Does tumblr like Erasermic?

Does tumblr like Dadzawa…?

If yes, then stay tuned, because I have a lighthearted little something in the works!

[kidclubz]

in which UA is an idol training school where bands compete to win a record deal at All Might Studios. Next up: Dekusquad!

[darkestcat23]

read my fanfic on ao3. it's about a girl assassin (dawn) who gets entangled with the league (dabi), the yakuza (overhaul), and the heroes (hawks).

[shotos-kettle]

Winters love (M)

Word count: 2,692

Inspired by Neptunecw and Flightofbats tiktok 

Written while listening to the song below ♡

UA wasn't known for its cold wintery days, unlike other times of the year it was mostly sunny even if just a tad bit on the chilly side. The staff did its best to make sure the campus stayed pretty warm but ever since the villain attacks started up their central heating system had been on the fritz, some days it was blazing hot in the winter, and other days it was freezing cold. So they made sure all students knew to keep a jacket in their lockers just in case. However, some of the students continued to forget about their heating system issues, completely disregarding things as they sat in classes shivering, Ochako Uraraka being one of them.

Her foot tapped against the bar of the chair in front of her,  her skin covered in goosebumps as she tried desperately to pay attention to what Aizawa sensei was teaching them, but it proved to be harder than she imagined. Normally the cold wouldn't affect her as much but it had snowed the night before she knew Bakugou was most likely irritated with her constant tapping and she was thankful he hadn't turned around and yelled at her yet. Of course it was safe to say that he was passed out cold against his notebook so she was at least safe for a little while.

Halfway through their lesson Bakugou lifted his head, causing Uraraka to freeze completely as he turned around to look at her. "Pink cheeks stop shakin the damn chair I'm tryin to sleep here." She blinked as he looked her over for a moment before grunting with a roll of his eyes. He reached down into his back and pulled out a large black and orange hoodie,  tossing it over onto her desk. "Next time bring a jacket kay?" He grumbled as he turned back around to return to his nap, a yawn leaving his lips.

Uraraka stared at the jacket that laid over her work, eyes wide as she glanced around the classroom, Denki and Kirishima were both staring at her with wide eyes, making a gesture with their hands as if to tell her to just put it on and don't argue.  "T-thanks.." She whispered softly as she slipped her arms into the much too large hoodie that almost swallowed her whole, immediately being overwhelmed by the scent of Bakugou. Caramel and vanilla… it consumed her as she zipped the hoodie up and closed her eyes for a moment, trying to keep herself from floating off her seat from pure embarrassment.  

He had been fairly nice to her and it flustered her beyond her own beliefs,  sure she got flustered around Deku but that's just because it's Deku… Bakugou being nice to her was unheard of so it truly affected her in ways she really didn't want it to and for the rest of their lecture her mind was a misty place.

Once class was over she tapped Bakugou's shoulder, clearing her throat softly as he turned to face her, shaking his head. "Dont." He said quickly as he got up and nodded to Kirishima, yelling something about sparring in the training grounds, she watched as the two of them headed out of the classroom. "Woah what was that about?"  She looked over at Mina and shrugged, gathering her things as she stood, the hoodie coming to rest just above her knees. "I'm not sure… Bakugou being nice is strange, but I guess he didn't realize he woke up earlier and let me borrow this." Her hands smoothed over the front of the soft material.

"I don't know Ura… He's not one to just forget things he does half asleep." Mina laughed as she shook her head, draping her arm around Uraraka's shoulders. "But damn it does smell nice though doesn't it? I wonder what cologne he uses that smells this good." This pulled a chuckle from the rosy cheeked female, shaking her head softly. She knew it wasn't Cologne, she had been close enough to Bakugou during training to know that this was all him, and it really didn't bother her.  "I don't know, but I'll have to return it soon. Maybe I'll sneak into his room and leave it. But hey, you wanna go shopping?? I heard there are some sales going on at the mall!" Mina just grinned at the girl and grabbed her hand, pulling her out of the classroom, passing Bakugou and Kirishima who were standing just outside the classroom.

"So when are you gonna tell her?" The red headed male asked as he watched the two girls run down the hall. He turned to look at Bakugou, snorting as he waved his hand in front of the usually grumpy male. "Yo, earth to Katsuki, come on man stop staring you're gonna burn your notes again."  This snapped Bakugou back out of his trance, dropping the smouldering notebook in the process. "Shit! Damn it i gotta stop doing that!" He groaned, stomping on the notebook to smother the fire that had started around the edges of the cover. "I don't know shitty hair, maybe I'll never tell her. I don't want to distract her from hero training.."

"Or do you not want to get rejected? Come on dude it's obvious she likes you! And you have to admit… She does look fine as hell wearing your hoodie." Kirishima nudged Bakugou's shoulder, his words resulted in a solid punch to the jaw. "Shut the hell up, don't talk like that about her." He knew Kirishima was right but what the hell was he thinking? Talking about her like that especially in front of everyone. "Lets just go spar. I need to get my head out of the clouds, i couldnt sleep last night because stupid Deku and Denki were watching movies all night in Deku's room. God, I wish they would just have a regular sleep schedule like everyone else." He rolled his eyes, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he made his way towards the exit.

-~-

One month had passed since He had lent his jacket out to Uraraka, and they hadn't seen much of each other since she was deep into her work study at this point so he hadn't had the chance to ask her about getting his hoodie back. However, the students who had work studies had been given a few days off so he figured now was a better time than any. As he walked into the door he looked around, spotting a tuft of red hair disappearing into the kitchen. "Hey, shitty hair, you seen pink cheeks?" He called out, Kirishima poked his head around the corner and nodded, pointing over to the stairs. "Her room." Bakugou nodded and headed up the stairs, taking two at a time as usual.

Heading down the hall he noticed her door was cracked slightly, he took a deep breath as he stood there in front of it for a moment before lifting his hand to knock, the door swinging open slightly. "Hey pink cheeks, do you still have my jacket-?" His words faltered as he saw her curled up in the little loveseat seat she had placed in the corner of her room, dressed in a pair of sleep shorts and his hoodie. Fuck, she was so cute. How could someone who was so smart and loud at the same time be so fucking beautiful even after going through hell. He bit his lip as he slipped inside, closing the door behind him as a small smile graced his lips. He quietly made his way over to her and lifted her into his arms, a sigh leaving him as he moved her over to her bed. "You shouldn't sleep like that, you'll get back problems…" he whispered, more to himself than to her since he knew she wouldn't hear him anyway.

As he went to cover her up so he could leave her to sleep a hand wrapped around his wrist, sleepy eyes peering up at him while he leaned over her. "Katsuki?.." Fuck, he had woken her up. His jaw went slack as he tried to find something to say, which he couldn't at the moment, because the look in her eyes was something he wasn't used to seeing directed towards him. "I'm sorry, I meant to return it… i just got so busy." She spoke softly, sitting up in bed as she held onto his wrist, her free hand rubbing at her eyes and once she looked up at him again she froze. Their noses just barely touching as they looked back at one another.

For a few moments the two of them just sat there, staring into each other's eyes before Bakugou made the first move. He closed the space between their lips, kissing her gently as he reached out to cup her cheek, thumb stroking over her rosy cheeks. Her eyes widening as she was slowly pushed back onto her bed, Bakugou moving to hover over her as their lips parted. "K-Katsuki… What are you doing?" Her words were breathless, and he knew she hadn't expected to be kissed, he just couldn't help it when she had that look in her eyes. His thumb traced over her bottom lip as he sighed heavily. "Sorry…"

As he moved to get off the bed she reached out and pulled him back down, this time wrapping her legs around his waist as she kissed him, her fingers tangling into his messy blonde locks. She had been waiting for so long to take this type of chance with him and she had never even dreamed that he would be the one to make the first move. He was always so aggravated with everyone, and after everything that had happened she was afraid he had closed himself off completely. The kiss had proved her wrong and she was going to take that leap of faith and she wasn't going to look back.

Bakugou tilted his head into the kiss, shifting around slightly so he could move into a position where he wouldn't crush her with his weight,  his heart was pounding and the amount of adrenaline running through him was starting to cause him to sweat. A small groan left his throat when she bit down on his bottom lip, the slight pain pulling him back to the real world for a minute. He pulled back and stared down at her, licking his lips. "Okay, one.. the door isn't locked. And two.. how long?" He asked, knowing that she knew exactly what he meant by how long. He watched the rosiness of her cheeks spread to her ears. As she looked away shyly. "Since the training camp."

She pushed at his shoulders, pushing him towards the headboard so she could get up and move to lock her door. When she turned back to face him she smiled softly, flicking the lights off so they were only bathed in the light of the evening sun. "Doors locked now…" A smirk formed on the blonde's lips as he watched her saunter back over, his hands reaching out to rest on her hips while she crawled onto his lap, their lips coming together in another kiss that was filled with so much desire that it sent shivers down his spine. As her fingers ran down his chest he slowly slipped his hands down the back of her shorts, grabbing two handfuls of those luscious globes that always had him so distracted when she fought.

A moan left Uraraka's lips, her head tipping back as she tugged at his hair gently. The lips that were occupying her own now traced down along the expanse of her throat, the hands on her hips guided her to grind down against him. Her eyes widened as she left his erection pressing up against her, nails digging into his scalp when he bit down on her shoulder after leaving a dark hickey to blossom on her pale skin. She quickly unbuttoned his shirt so she could push it off his shoulders and toss it on the floor. Her hips lifted slightly so she could scoot back, leaning down to leave a trail of kisses down the center of his chest. His eyes never left hers as she slowly pulled his sweats down, nearly drooling as she took his cock into her mouth.

There was a knock on the door as his cock hit the back of her throat, his eyes widened as his hand gripped her hair tight, a finger lifted to his lips to keep her quiet. "I don't care who it is but go away!" He yelled, picking up the nearest thing, being a book so he could chuck it at the door. There was a squeak from the other side before he heard footsteps retreat. He looked back down at Uraraka who had his cock deep into the back of her throat, a look in her eyes that told him he needed to prepare himself. Which he wasn't able to do quick enough as she swallowed around his length, "holy fuck a-ahh." His head thunked back against the headboard as she pulled off of him slowly.

"Mmh.. Katsuki~" Uraraka licked a slow stripe against the underside of his length, watching his eyes nearly roll back just from the feeling. "Please.. I want you to be my first." She whispered, placing a gentle kiss to the head of his length. He nodded and shifted, watching her as she wiggled out of her shorts, tossing them somewhere in the room. She turned so she was on her hands and knees, then as Bakugou positioned himself behind her her chest dropped down against the sheets, her back arching to show him the damp spot that had formed on her panties.  

Oh gods he was going to love tearing that ass up, he had dreamed about this moment for so many nights and now the one thing he had lusted after for so long was right in front of him. "Gods your ass is amazing Ochako.." He whispered as he spread her cheeks, thumb dipping under the hem of her panties to pull them aside. If he didn't have as much self control as he normally did he would be drooling, she was barren, no hair in sight and just the most delicious shade of pink. He moved forwards on his knees, one hand moving to press against the curve of her spine as he pressed into her and as that deliciously tight heat wrapped around his cock he knew that was it. This girl was going to be his, from this moment on she belonged to him and he belonged to her, if anyone tried to hurt her he would kill them.

"You're mine, you got that Pink cheeks?" He grunted out as he snapped his hips forward, penetrating deep within her core, the head bottoming out against her cervix. He only gained a nod in return, but as he rolled his hips in a teasingly slow manner she got the hint. "Y-Yes Katsuki~" She mewled as the feeling of him deep inside, hips pressing back against his as a hard slap resonated around them, her ass stinging as she let out a lewd moan. "That's a good girl~" he had purred, he fucking purred. His words dripped sex and his hands simmered against her skin as they fell into a passionate push and pull of want, need and hunger.

The air between them would never be the same after tonight and he knew he was never getting his hoodie back, not that he even wanted it back in the first place. It looked too good on her, hell maybe he would give her some more of his clothes for her to wear when it was just the two of them. Though the inevitable chaos in the morning barely graced his mind as his eyes held steady on the sweet jiggle of her ass as he pounded her into the mattress, bed knocking against the wall without a care as they lost themselves in each other's bliss.