TW: Nsfw, Noncon/dubcon, Violence/abuse, Threat Of Bodily Harm

Looks like Devil’s food cake made it onto Chef Saltbaker’s menu today. 😈

Ok re: hawks vs bird plushies. What if, okay, hear me out. what iiiiifffff before he had a chance to freak, you told hawks the plushie was your (plural your) son. As in “honey we adopted this bird” lol

Well now we’re just taking advantage of the poor idiot lol.

THE ALTERNATE VERSION

You can’t believe you managed to get your hands on the limited edition Hawks plush. You’re gonna cherish it forever and ever.

And then Hawks walks in while you’re hugging the stuffed version of him.

“Who is this?” Oh god he sounds mad. You were afraid that his bird brain would take this the wrong way. You have to come up with something fast, so you blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“Our son.”

Just like that, Hawks’s face shifts from anger to pure shock, eyes on the verge of popping out of his head.

You cradle your plushie like a small child to make this bullshit more convincing. “You always talk about how much you love kids and one day want to raise one of your own.” You kept going while rocking the little Hawks in your arms. “So I adopted one and brought him home. Already handled the paperwork.”

Hawks approached slowly, as if his boots were being weighed down by lead, shaky arms reaching out to touch his new child’s head. “What’s his name?”

Shit.

“Umm...uhh...it’s...Keigo?” 

The delusional hero beamed, eyes filling with tears. “We have the same name? Is this destiny, little guy?” He leaned in to take in the plushie’s face, hopefully not noticing just how lifeless it was. “From now on, you’re gonna be Junior. Keigo Jr.”

You’re doing your absolute best to keep a loving smile on your face as he takes the toy into his own arms and pulls you in for a group hug. “We’re a family now, my little lovebird.”

This might have been a mistake.

audio on 

Bad Touch

Scumbag!Hawks | Keigo Takami x Reader

Warnings: Dubcon, Dom/Sub, Yandere themes, Dacryphilia, and Mindbreak.

Word count: 5k+

Commission for: @keilemlucent (my pal <3)​

Against your own will, you're under the care of a dangerous hero. You refuse to go along with his insane wishes. He loses his patience.

bad touch: n. alludes to being sensual with someone against their will (i.e. sexual harassment)

You have a diamond heart. You’re made of pure diamond. A magnificent gem that triumphs in toughness compared to other stones. Pressure serves no match to you, you could remain in a controlled state of panic to complete any stress-inducing task. You were a problem solver who knew how to handle things. Hurtful comments didn’t get to you. No one and nothing could crack your durable exterior.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean that you are invincible to scratches. Under ‘perfect’ conditions, a diamond can scratch and chip like a plain mirror. Place it under a steel hammer, and it’d shatter like a wine glass.

Hawks was your hammer.

You’re not broken yet. That monster of a man has at best scathed the surface of your resilience, but you can tell you’re beginning to tread on thin ice. He’s running out of patience every day you refuse to speak, glance or even regard him. He’s gone as far as to raise his voice in his attempts to mold you into an obedient ladylove. Then after he quickly tries to use the old ‘good cop bad cop’ routine, hugging you with tender holds, acting apologetic.

He seems more emotionally affected by his own actions--or, perhaps he’s just a good actor. It confused you. With the psychological mind games, you can imagine he’s a terrifying interrogator when he uses brute, physical force. Which doesn’t appear to be too far away in your future, as he constantly reminds you. Those reminders have increased in daily quantity.

Hawks has been on edge lately, quick to get angry at your ‘silliness.’ It seems that his inability to make a dent in you has frustrated him. You pride yourself on lasting this long without losing your mind, but you’re starting to fear for your safety. So far this whole kidnapping bullshit has been painless. A bit like plucking hairs; not fun, and quite exhausting.

On his end, he claims it’s a lot like pulling teeth. He’s threatened to yank out a few of yours on more than one occasion.

One of the more difficult times often occurs during dinner. He tries to feed you, and offer you every drink he has in his fridge. Buys you an array of food, from five star meals to fast food. Fresh, organic vegetables to sweet desserts to coax you into appreciating his efforts. You eat when you’re starving, for your own survival. After a while of not eating, of course you eventually gave in. You figured that as long as you continue to allow him to provide your basic necessities, you could survive. In spite of that, you knew you couldn’t have your cake and eat it too. You saw it coming. He began expecting you to display some level of affection in return for ‘keeping your belly full.’

He had wanted you to say, ‘I love you.’ You scowled and shook your head at that request. He was trying to get through whatever cracks he saw. Not wanting to allow him to break that part of your resolve, you refused any and all requests to speak. This irked him.

It became clear that he was wanting more. He started asking you to give him a kiss. Every damned meal, for breakfast, lunchtime and dinner, the bastard would ask for one. You said nothing.

Well, his recent shitty mood and your sparse advancement in cooperation has become a poor match. He’s begun to push it, and he’s not liking the resistance.

Earlier for lunch you ate some large chicken tenders, with a big glass of water. You even caved and ate the orange he offered as extra incentive for another kiss. The both of you must have noticed you were starting to show signs you were running low on Vitamin C, such as your drying skin and the slowly healing bruise you got from falling off the bed when you tried to wrestle away from his needy clutches. You only ate the orange for the sole reason that you needed it. He must have taken that as a sign you were beginning to bend to his will.

“Come on, darling. It’s cheesecake! Have you tried cheesecake before?” He’s trying hard to remain upbeat.

You stay silent.

He slides a plate of pasta over, covered with cheesy goodness and rich with olive oil. “What about this? Ah? Yeah? Smells good, don’t it?”

You say nothing at all.

“Okay, okay. You’re probably lactose intolerant, like me. I’d still eat it, but to each their own.” He breathes deeply, brushes a shaky hand through his hair, then places a bowl of ice cream with a hot brownie sitting in the middle, topped off with whipped cream. “What about some good ol’ ice cream brownie?”

A slow blink is all you give.

“Really? None of these? I’d go nuts for these.” He stares at you with a strained grin, wiggling a spoon in front of you. “You can never be too hungry…! C’mon…! Some little extra, yummy goodness for your cute belly, and all you have to do is give me a big smooch on the lips!”

Your eyes close. You can hear the metaphorical kettle in your head start to whistle.

Hawks sighs audibly, his furry brows twitching, threatening to form a frown. His wings twitch violently. “I know you think I'm mean, but I’m not trying to be!” The hero tugs on your limp arm, intertwining his fingers with yours. He puts emphasis on certain words, speaking to you as if you were a toddler. “All things considered, I think you’re being meaner than me!”

Oh, good. He’s self aware. You’re not sure if that's a good thing.

No matter. You try to ignore him.

The spoon clatters to the table. The sound causes you to flinch, your eyes snapping open to meet his glaring ones.

“...What about another orange?” His voice sounds low, his words quiet. Like he’s gritting his teeth.

You shake your head, stiff. Your eyes show terror. Your face screams hatred.

“What a waste of time, arguing with me.” He blames you, as if you didn’t want to get out of the situation. “Fine. No dessert for you. Just kiss me, damn it, so we can get you ready for bedtime.”

Scrunching your eyes, you prepare for his kiss of death. It doesn’t come. Seconds pass, your eyes peeling open to see the bastard’s disgruntled face.

“My baby, you didn’t hear me did you? Poor thing, all my yelling must have made you go hard of hearing…” He says with such sincerity, it’s hard to distinguish if it’s sarcasm. “Let me repeat myself… Ahem. I said, kiss me so that we can get you into bed.”

Bullshit. You frown at him. He’s supposed to kiss you. You’ll tolerate nothing else.

“Just one kiss. That’s all I’m asking for…!” He’s seething silently.

As he expects, you do nothing.

As you should have expected, he grabs you by the neck and slams your head down into the table. The side of your face collides heavily with the surface of the table, your head bouncing, ricocheting off it like a plastic ball. The recoil from the impact felt a lot like whiplash. You’re paralyzed in shock, sudden pain and fear crippling you from any movement or thought.

You want to cry out in agony, curse at him for being an utter, deplorable demon.

Instead, you sit tharn while the hum of white noise fills your ears. You struggle to spur yourself from your petrification.

“I’ll take your silence as your surrender...” He half smiles-half glowers at you. “Are you going to do as you’re told, or do I need to do that again...?”

The room is spinning, double vision slowly fading. A single, quick head slam. Such power in it. Your cheek burns, throbbing with hurt. Your head feels like it’s going to burst. You don’t think you take another one without passing out. So very slowly, you manage to shake your head up and down.

“Look at that. Much faster results.” He pets the back of your head, bringing his face close to yours. It’s clear in his now softer voice and eyes he’s feeling somewhat remorseful. Though it’s also likely it’s just part of a deceptive act.

Your lip quivers.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to do that… You left me no choice! Come here, poor baby… Kiss me, and I’ll make it all go away.”

You have no choice. You don’t want to experience that awful pain again, neither do you want to fall unconscious. If he’s reached as far as to hurt you, there’s no telling what else he’d do. Suppressing the vomit in the back of your throat, you frailly offer your trembling lips to him.

Immediately, he beams with happiness. There’s a smug smile on his dastardly, ruggish face. He doesn’t spare you the torment of closing the gap himself, however. You're truly forced to go all the way. It takes all the spirit you can muster to put your own lips on his, you feel like you’re doing a horrible thing. Committing a crime. Once your lips graze his, you’re dirty. You want to wipe your entire face off, right in front of him so he knows how much you despise it.

Then the tip of his tongue touches yours. You lurch back, an instinctive move that couldn't have been prevented even if you tried.

He looks unhappy. “Now, now, little feather…”

His hand moves a fraction of an inch towards you. You can’t stop yourself. You speak.

“Don’t…” you cheep.

There’s a mixture of emotion in Hawks’ expression. Shock, confusion. Even pride. His feathers are sticking up, shifting around in excitement. The ends of his lips round upwards into another cutthroat smile. “...What was that?”

What a nonsensical thing for him to say. You hear him listening to recordings of you all day. No matter. He’s clawed his way in, and dragged you out. Your dignity was all you had left, a teaspoon of which remained. A teaspoon of which you were about to feed him.

He scooches closer, to your dismay. “There's that sweet, musical voice I missed so much! Go on, repeat it!”

You know damn well he heard what you said. He has the best hearing on this planet, he just wants more power of you, the greedy bastard. You hate him. You hate yourself for being afraid of him.

He leans back, tapping his chiseled, scruffed chin with a finger. “...Alright. I feel like it was a bit too harsh... I’m sorry, baby. Do you want to go to bed?”

You nod.

“Okay, sweetie,” he says softly, kissing you on the forehead.

You don’t understand him. You’ll never understand him. He’s bargaining with you, mentally. Playing mind games with you, controlling you with fear and making you feel safe with kindness. You’re caught between wanting to play this game with him for the sake of staying free from his wrath, and trying to gain back your resolve. You know, though, that once this devil of a man has a taste of what he wants--he will never stop.

Your options are limited. You think about them all night long. You can’t sleep. You’re too scared for the future. Today was a turning point, the tides are in his favor. He’s found a way to get to you. He’s not afraid to get ugly anymore.

You haven’t given up yet. If you’re smart enough, you can turn this around. You saw a flicker of regret in his eyes.

You can beat him at his own game. At the very least, you’ll try.

Things have changed a lot since he first hurt you. It’s been quite a while since then, too.

Your plan failed. Although he never said anything to show it, he saw you through your plan to psychologically manipulate him. You should’ve known better.

You’d feign innocence and panic, hoping to string out some sort of sympathy from him. Get him while his guard was down, guilt him into not being forceful with you. Instead of backing down like you’d hope he would, he’d lose his goddamn mind. Shake you around some, yank at your hair, grab you by the upper so hard there’s a mild indentation now. Verbal abuse was common, condescension spat left and right. His reactions were unprecedented. Completely unforeseen. He’d become a scourge in the cruelest sense of the word.

Eventually, your acts of apprehension and fear slowly became reality. They weren’t a planned, tactical form of manipulation anymore, you were fucking scared.

He only returned to his sweeter self when you behaved. After you yielded to him. After he wore you down enough to get inside you, defiling you. He commended you, cooed at you for being ‘such a good girl,’ You didn’t let it bother you so much because you’d go insane if you did. Things went way smoother that way. It revolted you how easily you were changing to fit his mood. Your reasoning was, well... In the simplest words, if the devil was happy, he wasn’t angry. If the devil wasn’t angry, he wouldn’t hurt you. You didn’t like to get hurt. So you keep him happy.

You stopped trying to make sense of anything. If anything, you stopped caring. The deeper you thought about it, the more you felt bad for yourself. The more it made your head hurt.

Headaches were kind of like your superpower, however. You began to develop an innate sense of when Hawks was getting frustrated with you. Whenever you got that sense that he was a tad titulated, you got worried. You could tell by the shift in the atmosphere. His face sometimes, too; lidded, sharp eyes that expected your attention. The stress would make your head pound. Once that tension would come rushing to your head, you knew to stay on the defense. You were to do as he says with as little retaliation as possible. Your headache would leave once your gut told you he was… satisfied?

It was unfortunate that the headache you had now was one of the worst you’ve felt.

Today, he was having a bad day playing hero. Bunch of punks scuffed his leather boots, gave him a hard time so he says. He’s angry as Hell, your sense tells you.

“I’m tellin’ you, sweet thing, today was just the worst…” he complains with a cruel smile. “Why don’t you get on your knees for me and help me relieve some of my stress…?”

Your knees are weak, unsteady. You don’t want to stand up.

You wanted to tell him he was rattling you. If he’s going to use you while he’s angry, he’s going to be vicious. You remember the last time he fucked you for some stress relief. He was rough with you, and you were in so much pain for days. That’s not fair to you. You’ve done everything he’s asked. You’ve eaten his meals, given him attention, showered him affection. He’s supposed to be kind.

“He leans over your shoulder, wings unfolding behind his back, casting a dark shadow over you. “Sweetie. When I tell you to do something, you shouldn't dawdle. You’re not a child.”

Ironic for him to say that, considering how much he treats you like one.

“Please…” The word comes out as an undertone.

“Hm?” His pupils widen.

“Please don’t be mean…” you plead, lowering your head.

“Awwoh, cutie... You don’t like it when Hawks is scary?” he purrs at you, brushing his hand over your cheek.

Your hand curls around his wrist, begging for mercy. “Don’t be rough… Please...”

His boisterous laugh makes you flinch. “Don’t be rough, you say... Scared of a little pain? Don’t you want your lover to feel good, to feel better?”

Your head is spinning. You cannot even begin to grasp what he’s saying.

He lifts you off the chair, kicking it away. “Tough. Patience is for chumps, kiddo. I need that mouth of yours.”

You’re forced on your knees, your face inches away from his pelvis. To your surprise, he doesn’t have a hard-on yet.

He begins taking off his belt, the clinking painful to your ears. His wings are spread out, almost to their full length. Maybe he’s trying to intimate you further, one of his predatory instincts. With wings like his, he’s more demon than human or animal.

You like to think he truly is a monster.

Belt removed, a pair of ruby feathers take it to the chair. He places his hands on his svelte hips, waiting. His teeth peek out from his smile, watching the realization build on your shy face.

“Meager as always, aren’t we?” he chuckles darkly. “You know I like it when you take it out…”

No, he just likes watching your hands shake as you raise them to unbutton his cargo trousers. To humiliate you further, he juts his hips out more, his growing bulge bumping the tip of your nose. You don’t dare grimace, knowing he’d only do it again to spite you.

“Alright, that’s enough.” His pants pulled down enough to his liking, it bunches at the midway of his hips. Not too low that it sags uncomfortably, not too high that it would make it difficult for you to take out his ever growing erection.

It’s nothing new, his choice of briefs. Pure black as his near-slit like pupils, with golden ‘H’s’ printed over the material from the front to the back. To wear one’s own branded underwear, it’s a obvious sign of how full of themselves they can be. Hawks’ never-ending display of egotism could set world records, a feat you know he’d be proud of.

“Go on, sweetheart… Don’t tell me you aren’t dying to get a taste of me?” He shoves your face into him, rubbing himself around your mouth.

The heavy scent of his musk can’t be contained by his briefs. It goes right up your nostrils, loosening a few screws in your head. Every time you got a whiff of his natural smell of arousal, your sense of autonomy seemed to fade. An indescribable feeling, being mentally held hostage. It was bad enough he psychologically gnawed at what was left of your once strong mind, it was in his damned biology to do it. Aware of your own thoughts and actions, your body still reacts according to what registered in your mind, hormones taking control. As involuntary arousal heightens, your body began sending off hormones to feed him.

Pheromones colliding, it seemed the same was happening to him. His aggressive nature instigated, coupled with his ‘bad day,’ he was already being rough with you. Stuffing your face full of his clothed cock, he made sure you could feel him throbbing, pressing the length of his dick so hard against your nose it was painful.

“Mmmm, hahaha… I like that look on your face. You look like you want to cry, it’s cute,” he says, tilting your head back to get a good look at your expression. “What’s the matter, baby? Am I smothering you with too much cock? It ain’t even out yet!”

You take a deep breath.

His hands come around the back of your head, keeping you close to his pelvis to prevent you from backing away. “Pull ‘em down. Use your teeth.”

It takes a lot of effort on your end to pull them down enough, the waistband so tight it snaps from your teeth a few times. He praises your effort in the most praise-less way possible, letting his fat, engorged cock smack your face. It sticks to your face like a wet sock, his balls hitting your chin with a slight sway.

His scent is so powerful. He’s awful, chuckling at your whimpers as he unsticks his cock.

Your lower lip trembles, your eyes watery.

Oh. That grabs his attention.

“Do my eyes deceive me? Is… Is my baby girl getting teary-eyed?”

Hawks stares at your eyes as if they were long, lost jewels. He’s never seen you cry before. He’s never made you cry before. His cock spurts precum at that. He liked making you cry. Those were long awaited tears he never knew he was waiting for.

“Now that… makes me horny.” He growls, keeping one hand on the back of your head and the other to guide his dick into your mouth.

His sadistic pleasure in your tears, knowing he’s going to destroy your mouth with no pity… it brings to tears. You sniff and sob as his cock fills your mouth, your quiet cries stifled.

His cock doesn’t make it too far in, the length of him not easy to swallow. You cough, your gag reflex kicking in. He pushes in, but you fight against him. One buck of his hips, and you retch violently around him. He lets up only an inch, groaning at the way you sputter around him. Additional tears run down your cheeks, forming from your gagging.

“Suck this dick like a good girl…” He thrusts his hips in and out of your mouth, desperately wanting to get deeper. He moans and flaps his wings gently, enjoying the sloppy sounds of you choking on him. “I love feeling the roof of your mouth, but I wanna feel your throat.”

Unpitying, the bastard urges you to take more. The constant forcefulness eventually causes your throat to ease up, allowing you to deepthroat him. Your sinuses open up, your nose runny and burning. His balls make messy claps against your chin, foamy saliva clinging to them.

“That’s it, pretty girl, mmmm…” he grunts, speeding his thrusts up. “You keep that throat open, keep those tears coming…! You don't wanna be baaad, do you?”

He demands you to keep choking on him. There’s no choice in the matter, unless you want to die choking on a big dick that insists on reaching the back of your throat--and it does. You close your eyes from the pressure, until Hawks taps on your temple with a finger.

“I said, keep those tears coming! I want to see those precious, wet eyes…” He coos cruelly.

Your watery eyes, streaming hot tears, connect with his. His eyes are squinted, perhaps from focus. The sharp, black markings around his inner and outer canthi give them a more keen mien. He reads your intimidated demeanor like an open book, taking pleasure once more in his power over you. He’s a scumbag and he knows it.

But he also smells the arousal coming from your inner thighs.

Your torture stops. His cock is removed from your throat rather quickly. You’re left dizzy and nauseous, the familiar mist of horny fully clouding your thoughts. Wobbly from what was practically asphyxiation, you collapse onto your forearms in a slight daze. You use the short time to wipe away the tears smearing your vision. Rustling sounds grab your attention right after, somewhere behind you. You don’t get a chance to see what’s happening. You feel it, instead.

Hawks is downright nude. He’s mounting you like an animal mounting his mate, his smooth chest pressing on your back. His heavy cock is jabbing your clothed mouth as if it has a mind of its own, seeking the warmth of your wet, gooey cunt.

“Let’s get you out of these clothes, darling, they’re such a nuisance.”

He grabs the bottom of your shirt, yanking it over your head gracelessly. It gets stuck over your head, under your neck. You wonder if he’s going to purposely leave it, which you wouldn’t mind. Better than having to see his rotten face.

Sadly, he gives it a good tug, removing your safe haven. Your pants, too, come off. He’s not gentle with those either, peeling them off like you would with a doll. Manhandling you with no regard. Though, you suppose that’s just how Hawks views you. His little plaything that he adores.

Once again, you’re stuck between a hammer and anvil. You foresee a very brutal fucking. The throat fucking you barely survived was just the tip of the iceburg. Your brain is more or less on autopilot, but you’re paralyzed. A similar state in animals is often referred to as ‘tonic immobility,’ a last resort little critters such as rabbits use when they find themselves in inescapable danger. Almost like playing dead. Even if you did try to fight him you’d end up in a world of hurt, so perhaps deep down you’re simply sensible enough. It’s best to let nature run its course.

“You’ve gotten so good at following directions, baby feather…” He observes your quiet stance on all fours. “You really wanna be a good little girl and take Hawks’ pounding!”

In a way.

He mounts you once more, assuming his vulgar position on top of you. Cock wagging, bobbing up and down, its slick head bumps your leaky folds. His hand wraps around the base, ushering it to line up where he wants it.

You keen as the head breaches your pussy with a squelch, a sound Hawks moans at. He’s big, trying to force himself in despite the clear resistance. His hands latch onto your hips, dragging you down and back to impale you on his dick. Your walls give and widen to let him in, his cock sheathing to the hilt. You gasp from the fullness, he groans from the tightness.

Your nails dig deep into the floorboards, a sad attempt to anchor yourself. You keep your sights on the floor, staring at your shadows. The bastard’s giant wings look humongous, giving your shadows an ugly, deformed shape. Like a biblical figure of sorts, with blood-dipped feathers raining down.

“You take ol’ Hawks’ cock soooo damn well, don’t you, baby girl?” his breath is ragged in your ears, his chin tickling your neck.

You’re shaking, tears pricking the corner of your eyes for the second time. “Mercy…”

He ignores you, focusing on your body’s grateful clenches. Adjusting his knees, widening your knees apart more, he begins moving his hips rapidly. A short brief period of slow thrusts quickly turned into a pounding. Every drive into you brings your head close to the ground, your hands almost unable to keep you upright. If it weren’t for his raptor grip on your sides, you’d surely bang your forehead. His cock hits your gummy cervix with each thrust, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. With how hard he was pummeling past your poor walls, you’d think he was trying to burst past it.

“God damn, I needed this… I needed this so bad.” He pants, his tongue unfurling like a dog’s. His wings, fluttery and uncurled, twitch wildly behind him.

Jostling your innards shouldn’t feel as good as it does. You can’t deny that Hawks isn’t good at fucking, but he’s definitly selfisn about it. He can also be vile when he wants to, gets a kick out of it sometimes. It’s nasty and agonizing--but it beats getting choked out until you submit.

Your body can’t take it anymore. Your arms become too weak, too sore to hold up your upper half. You end up slouching forward, in a downward dog position. With the side of your face on the floor, you’re getting a mild burn on your cheek from the friction. He feels bigger like this, and has better control in angling his thrusts.

You let him have his way. Hawks seems to like the change in position. He rambles about how wet you are, how good you feel with your ass up in the air. He wants more however, and moves one of his legs up beside you This way, he has an even deeper reach. By now, your cervix must be bruised. Taking hit after hit, serving as a tender cushion for his cock. He brushes past your sweet spot though, after so long. You wonder if he’s always known where it is, and he just chooses to be an asshole.

You let out a strained mewl, blinking away tears that your captor laps up.

“What’s that, baby feather? You’re close?” He avoids hitting your cervix, hitting your special spot with vigor. “This where you like it? Yeah, I can tell by the way you clench… I can fucking feel that...”

His balls, rounded with his seed, hit your clit more frequently. His pace speeds up, your creamy cunt constricting him most pleasurably. The gluttonous pig only lets you have your end when he’s close to his.

“Tell your hero when you’re close, sweetheart…” he groans deep into your ear, huffing. “Because I’m about to blow my fuckin’ load. An’ I’m not in the mood to help you reach it after I’m spent!”

You’re gasping for air, crushed under his weight. Draping over your shoulders are his massive wings, a blanket you didn’t need when you were already hot and sweaty. They don't stay there for long, they lift up and flap intermittently. You take this as a sign that he’s indeed very close.

His efforts increase, until he’s essentially fucking you into the floor. He brings a hand over to your clit, rubbing it with his fingers furiously. You yelp, jerking under him from the overstimulation. Nothing but cock on your mind, you announce how close you are to your orgasm. It doesn’t matter, you cum immediately. What surprises you the most is how you cum; you’re squirting, creating a pool of clear liquid underneath you.

“Ohhoho, that’s a funny sensation…!! Fuck, that’s so hot--hahh… Hahh, fuck, I’m coming! I’m coming, baby, you’re gonna take my cum you sweet angel--!” His ramblings are cut short. A gush of his semen shoots into you, taking hold in the deep pockets of your puny cunt. Leftovers spew out, joining your mess on the floor.

He pulls out, allowing a mixture of fluids to pour out. His fat cock acted like a plug, keeping everything inside you. He hums to himself, eyeing the nice little creampie he gave you.

“Now that… is how you make a man happy.” He slumps down on the ground, laying on his side.

You lay on your side as well, depleted of all energy. You stare at the puddle of cum on the floor, a mess you’d be the one to clean.

You’re suddenly pulled towards him, into his hold. You remain limp, not bothering to speak either. You have no words, you never do.

“See? You were making such a damned fuss, yet you took me like a champ! Maybe we should fuck like that all the time… Like animals.”

You shudder.

lover

𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 — 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐢 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐢

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!housekeeper!reader, this is a dark fic, dub con, power imbalance, suggested age gap, rough sex, gagging, creampie / basically forced breeding, enji is a big meanie, all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ dabi was supposed to be my first mha character but daddy won sorry. do not repost or translate. please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading <3

for once, during your shifts in the Todoroki household, you were breathing easy. you hum, quietly to yourself, as you scrub each dish, before rinsing the suds away to stack it in the draining rack. usually, you were already aching, with your face shoved in a couch cushion with your ass in the air, taking whatever Enji felt like you deserved that day. more often than not, you’d be crying by the time he finished, and tossed you into the floor like a discarded cumrag, smelling like him and shuddering. you told yourself you only kept coming back because you needed the money, but there were other jobs out there. nicer families to work for.

it was the fear that had a grip on you.

when Enji would bark your name, you would always freeze. he only ever acknowledged you when he needed someone to drain his balls anyways, so you knew what you would be doing for the next hour or so.

you were glad that ( it seemed like ) today would be easier on your body than normal. Enji hadn’t left his bedroom yet, and you were almost finished with the dishes. you had to mop the floors and tidy up the bedrooms, and then you could finally leave.

but the running water in the sink silences his usually too-heavy-to-miss footsteps, and you had no idea Enji was coming until you felt his warmth radiating against your back and your eyes widen. “M—Mister Todoroki, I didn’t hear you come i—“

“Stick your little ass out more,” he rasped, one massive hand pawing at your waist, thumb digging into your tummy to bend you into an arch, and you whine as you comply, gripping the platter tight in one hand and the sponge in the other, “the hell ‘m I paying you so goddamn much for, again? There’s cheaper housemaids, you know.”

“S—sir—“

his free hand hooks around your throat and guides your head back to rest the crown against his sternum, pretzeling you into an unnatural S shape and you cower below his massive form. the expanse of his chest seems miles long from this angle, his harsh features twisted into a wicked scowl. you squint, trying not to lock on to his furious eyes, and stared at his mouth instead. “P—please—“

Enji doesn’t even hear your pathetic, little plea, pushing his gargantuan body against yours, he pins you to the countertop, knocking the breath out of you.

“You’re a tight, little cocksleeve, so you’re worth just a little bit more than those old bags that clean twice as good as you do.” he snarls, hunching over to smear his open mouth over your forehead, and a wave of hot breath tickles your countenance, “but you’d better remember that and start acting like the pricey, set of fuckholes you are. If your back’s not arched, and that ass isn’t on display for me at all times going forward, I’m gonna start cutting your pay. You’ll take twice the cock, though. Am I clear?”

with your bottom lip trembling, you nod with wide eyes, holding the plate closer to your chest. you weren’t sure why you still gripped it, other than you simply needed something to hold on to, something to use as a shield, even if it was a useless one.

Enji quirked a brow, tilted his head of one side, and skewed his lips to bare his teeth. “My question requires a verbal response, whore.”

eyes big and nervous, you release the plate and sponge and allow them to slip back into the soapy water, splashing your top as they do so, but you try to wrap your smaller hands around his forearm when you feel his fingers wanting to tighten around your neck, threatening for you to submit to him or face the severe consequences. “Y—yes sir!” you stammer, holding on to the hardest muscle you’ve ever felt contract under your fingertips.

the hand on your waist careens downward and forces its way between your thighs, and you squirm when calloused fingertips, as rough as sandpaper, rub hard against your panties, “I thought I told you about this, too.” he hisses, coaxing a damp patch against his fingers as he kneads your sensitive sex through the lingerie. you whimper; Enji had made it beyond clear— panties were forbidden. that way, he could easily bend you over any piece of furniture in his home and fuck you without the irritation of having to strip you first. but the skirt he demanded you wear as part of your uniform was much too short, and when you scrubbed the floors on your hands and knees, if you weren’t wearing anything underneath, every inch of your most vulnerable section was exposed. you were embarrassed.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe out, wriggling atop his hand. even though he’s much too rough with your softer, more fragile body, it reacts by pooling slick, attempting to ease the friction he’s causing. “T—the skirt is just so short, I—“

“How many times?” he barks, effectively shutting you up as he wraps his fist around the waistband, “How many times have I had to rip them off of you?”

a soft plea for mercy dies on your tongue. a lot. so many times that you were running out of undies. “T—too many…”

with one, brisk jerk, he’s shredded the fabric, pulling the wad of damp cotton from between your legs in his fist. your body’s jostled by the force, and you gasp, knocked off balance, but pinned too tight against the sink to fall.

“And you still wore them today?”

“I won’t wear them anymore,” you add in a desperate breath. “I— I promise I won’t, p— please don’t be angry with me, I’ll be goo—!“ you were tripping over your own words, terrified of what he had in mind for a punishment. his voice was husky and diabolically low, all of his muscles taut, and you were most afraid of being on the receiving end of his strength if he took the notion to strangle you; you were in a most compromising position. however, your promise to behave is cut off as he jams your own, tattered panties into your mouth, using his thick, long digits to shove the fabric all the way to the back of your throat, and your bargaining melts into a helpless gurgling. the tips of his fingers tease the gag reflex he knew was there, and your eyes well up with tears as you stare up at him, attempting ( and failing ) to push the lingerie out with your tongue. it was only after he pulled his fingers free that you bite down on the underwear, and taste yourself.

“I don’t have the time to punish you properly,” he growls, shoving you further over the sink. you’re swept off your feet, and they dangle a few inches from the floor, the very tips of your toes barely dragging against it, hands scrambling to find solidity, and planting your palms against the bottom of the sink, soapy water sloshing, soaking your shirt, overflowing into the floor. “I’ve got somewhere to be, but, I need a fuck first.” the way he said it made your stomach turn. he wasn’t asking. he wasn’t even trying to pretend that you had a say in what he did with your body. he reaches between your bodies to retrieve his cock, which you are not surprised is already solid and mighty ( you swore he was hard every time he got the chance to degrade you ), and without so much as a moment for you to suck in a breath and prepare yourself, he forces his way inside.

he was so fucking big.

you whimper, blinking back tears. had you not been gagged with your own panties, you would’ve screamed. no matter how many times he used you, your body never adjusted to just how thick he was. your walls have no choice but to stretch to their limit, kissing every angry vein, sealing around his base when he bottoms out. you swear, with the force he likes to drive himself into you, and his impossible size, he must not care if he bursts through your belly. it definitely felt like he might— there was a distinct pressure against your lower abdomen, and you knew that had you not been smushed against the countertop, the shape of his cock would bulge against your navel.

Enji groans, dropping his head back. “You’ve still got the tightest cunt I’ve ever conquered,” he may have meant it as a compliment, but you could do very little besides yowl through your gag and kick your feet as he pounds you, hard and fast, desperately trying to find something to hold on to that wasn’t water, “she never quite gets used to my cock, does she? Still too big for her?” you could hear the splashing as the dishwater rains down on the floor, and you knew that once he was done with you, you would still have to clean up the mess he was making.

nodding, you try to reach both hands down between your legs, instead. you couldn’t pull him out, you knew that, but you could try and soothe your poor, abused sex by cupping it with one hand, your other trying to push against his herculean thigh in hopes to slow him down.

“Good,” he grunts, releasing your throat and grabbing both of your arms at the elbows, jerking your hands away from your own body. with a pitiful whine, you clench your fists as he wrenches your arms back, and uses the new leverage to toss you back and forth, meeting his merciless fucking, “the way you clench when you’re trying to handle my cock…” leaning with all of his weight against your back, he pants into the shell of your ear, “it only makes me want to fuck your useless, little brains out. Harder, and faster.” each word is emphasized as he does just that, pounding you so brutally that you see stars behind your eyelids, shaking you back and forth violently— to the point it made you lightheaded. you squeal and beg and choke on your gag, drool leaking out of the corners of your mouth, tears on your cheeks.

you didn’t want to admit it ( and couldn’t, even if you wanted to ), but the constant battering of his thick tip into a cluster of delicate nerves had driven you over the edge. it was relentless, the way he destroyed your body and your mind; each time his cock hit the bundle in you, your eyelids fluttered, and your brain turned to mush.

somewhere amidst the cruel and bestial assault, you’d dropped off. you fell apart, legs shaking and core pulsing, milking him more fervently, until you gave into the intensity of the orgasm and your eyes rolled back.

he saw this, and moaned in approval, “Don’t black out, slut. I’m about to flood your guts.” his cock was throbbing when he gave you his deepest, hardest thrusts. you yelp in protest when the head of his cock bumps your cervix, but you could do absolutely nothing to stop it, not with the mountainous man holding you down with every last ounce of his weight. you simply had to take the pressure, and rope after rope of warmth that he shoots into you. your toes curl when he pulls back to slam himself home one last time, and the last few spurts of his release dribble out of your quivering hole when he pulls out.

letting go of your arms and stepping back, he tucks himself back into his uniform as you collapse. first, into the sink, and then, when your feet hit the floor, your knees buckle and you slide into a trembling, messy heap in the floor. you can feel the puddle of soapy water under your bum, it’s soaked the rug, too. exhausted, panting, with your thighs vibrating and your sex clenching uncontrollably, you sag against the side of the cabinet door. you shy closer to it, trying to meld into the wooden panel when Enji steps closer, and grabs your chin to tilt it up. your panties still lodged in your mouth, you look up at him with glassy eyes, wincing at his very touch.

“You’re staying late tonight, after you’ve finished your cleaning duties I want you to wait for me to come home and ruin you again, on your knees by the door like a proper whore.” he says, in a matter-of-fact baritone. you nod slowly.

you were, once again, fucked into complete obedience.

Something something Weezer refrence.

OK OK as much as I like shadowpeach starting as friends consider… hate at first sight <3