You’re only slightly tipsy as you stumble home, giving an annoyed glance at the darkened sky and the rain that’s coming down harder by the minute. You hadn’t planned on being out this late, but there was a fun crowd at the bar and you lost track of time. You even got another chance to flirt with that cute hero you met last time. It’s been a good night; not even the increasingly heavy rain is going to ruin your mood. You lift your purse over your head in an attempt to keep dry, then without warning you feel a hand tighten firmly around your wrist from behind.
“Isn’t it a little dangerous to be waving that around? Looks like you’re just asking for trouble, cutie.” You whirl around and find yourself gawking at the smirking face of Hawks, the same hero from the bar. Before you can ask anything, he leans in close to whisper in your ear. “That creep over there’s been following you since you left. I don’t wanna start a fight, I’m just gonna walk you home.” You glance over his shoulder and can just make out a shadow hiding in the alley you passed a moment ago. You feel a chill shoot down your spine and sober up instantly. You nod and resume your walk, Hawks falling into step beside you down the street.
Gradually you relax, not quite returning to your earlier spirits but it’s hard to feel too upset with your current companion. “…He was so pissed, I swear you could have roasted a turkey on his face!” He finishes his story just as you reach your apartment building, both of you soaked from the worsening storm but laughing too hard to care.
“Thanks for everything, back there.” Reluctantly you take a step forward, seeing his wide grin fade into something more neutral as another flash of lightning illuminates the clouds. A thought strikes you, and the words are out of your mouth before you can second-guess yourself. “Do you wanna come up and wait out the rain for awhile?”
If he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it. “That’d be great.” His grin is infectious as he follows you up the stairs and into your home.
“Can I ask you a question?” Hawks looks up from your doorway, shoes halfway off and wings dripping buckets of water onto the floor. “Why didn’t you fly here? It would have been faster.”
He holds up one finger almost teasingly. “You ever seen a bird fly in a storm?” You cock your head, open and shut your mouth in confusion. You honestly have no idea if birds can fly in the rain. “Or maybe I just wanted an excuse to stick around longer.” Okay yeah, he’s definitely teasing you now. He laughs at your reaction, wings twitching and alerting you to the fact that your carpet is being soaked worse with every move. You excuse yourself to grab some dry towels, praying you have something large enough to dry his feathers.
You return a few minutes later and find him digging through your fridge like he owns the place. “There’s a microwave right there, you animal,” you scold as you take sight of the leftover teriyaki chicken enroute to his mouth and he shows you that smirk again, completely unphased at being caught sneaking food like a stray raccoon. You dump it onto a plate to heat up before tossing a towel over his damp hair, drying him off yourself to keep his teriyaki-covered fingers from staining it. His head is a fluffy mess when you pull away and two thoughts cross your mind.
One, he’s a lot smaller than most of the pro heros you’re familiar with. His cohorts like All Might and Endeavor are massive, almost larger than life figures, intimidating just from their size alone. Hawks in comparison isn’t much taller than you, he feels more like a regular person than a living legend. It’s comforting, how normal he seems in your home.
Two, you realize you were mistaken to think of him as cute earlier. Here in your kitchen with his messy hair and that taunting grin, he’s actually wickedly, stupidly handsome. On impulse you reach up and ruffle his hair; it’s surprisingly soft and feathery between your fingers and the man in front of you practically chirps at the contact.
Without warning his wings flap, spraying water across the room and knocking half your cooking supplies off the counter. “Hey, at least they’re mostly dry now,” he points out, giving his feathers a tiny shake as proof. He’s nice enough to help clean up before swiping the hot chicken from the microwave and sauntering over to claim your couch. You can’t help but take interest in the way he automatically unfolds his wings behind him, spreading them over the back of the furniture in a movement that’s fluid from years of practice. Something occurs to you as you watch him settle in and devour your food.
“Hey, Hawks? How do you even wear shirts? Y’know, with your wings and all?”
The hero perks up at the opportunity to show off, wipes his fingers clean of sauce and sits up to face away from you. “Watch this, it’s fun.” You keep your eyes trained on him as he pulls his arms free from his jacket and does some kind of….weird little shimmying motion with his feathers. It’s almost like he’s compressing them as he flexes his shoulders to shrug the coat off, slipping the appendages through the slits in the fabric so it can fall off behind him. He looks back at you with a wink. “Cool, huh?”
“I have no idea what you just did,” you admit, trying to figure out how he managed that maneuver.
He shakes his head, not even bothering to hide his snort of laughter. “Okay, watch again.” Before you can protest he’s yanking at his shirt, doing that shimmying thing again that your brain point-blank refuses to understand and relaxes back against your couch, arms folded and expression smug. It’s an unfair move, it’s hard to focus on what you were seeing when there’s a half-naked demigod sitting in your living room like a king on this throne. You don’t hide your curiosity as you look him over; toned muscle showing that he puts plenty of effort into his body even though it’s unnecessary with his quirk. You tear your eyes away from his chest and meet his gaze, enjoyment clear on his face as he relishes your attention. “See somethin’ you like, huh?”
You’re not going to be out-seduced by a guest in your own home. “Yeah, I do.” You sit down, matching his grin as you curl up beside him and reach for the remote.
The two of you carry on like this for awhile, flipping through commercials and listening to the rain slam against your windows as you share the plate of chicken and crack bad jokes at each other. It feels surprisingly natural when he splays his arm across your shoulders, pulling you tighter to himself and the warmth of his body seeps into your clothes. “See something you like, hero?” you ask playfully, tilting your face up to his.
“Yeah, I do.” He can’t quite hide his smile as he leans down to kiss you. His fingers twist into your hair, holding you in place to coax your mouth open for his tongue. He tastes like teriyaki, and the beer he’d had earlier, and something indescribably Hawks that your distracted brain identifies as sexy bird, and somehow it all works for him. He bites at your lip and you groan, pressing closer against his bare chest. You break for air and he takes the opportunity to tug your shirt over your head, no weird shimmy required, and throws it over his shoulder. His fingers wrap around your waist to yank you up into his lap, wings fluttering up to cage you in. “I’m seeing a lot that I like.”
You feel yourself blushing, kissing him again to hide your reaction. He trails his hands up your bare skin, leaving goosebumps in his wake. He takes notice of your nipples hardening under your bra and wags his eyebrows. You can’t help but roll your eyes but don’t complain when he reaches up your back to pop open the hooks and slip it off you. Hawks licks his lips almost unconsciously and grabs for you, giving your breasts a firm squeeze. His lips trace along your pulse, thumbs circling over your nipples and you begin to melt into his attention. Your own hands drag down his firm abs to the front of his pants where you can feel his dick hard for you and you let out breathy sigh before fumbling with his zipper.
“Babe, chill. I’m not going anywhere,” he teases, giving you a whistle of appreciation. “Were you gonna hide these from me all night? That’s downright cruel.” He pinches your sensitive flesh in his fingers and your whimper only spurs him on to grope you more.
“Maybe we’d have got…gotten to this sooner if you hadn’t spent all night s-shoveling chicken into your mouth like–oh shit, Hawks…” your sentence trails off as his mouth leaves a trail from your collarbone down your chest to capture a nipple between his teeth. He’s got you squirming on his lap in seconds, sucking on your tender skin until you’re whining out his name with every breath. He releases you with an indecent slurp only to kiss a path across to its twin, already stiff and ready for the same treatment. You grip onto his sleek hair, raking your nails across his scalp as his tongue lathes over you, stubble on his chin teasing you to an almost embarrassing arousal. He finally separates from you after several more minutes of admiration, once you’re reduced to a panting mess on top of him and nearly pleading to be fucked.
“Sooo,” he drawls, leaning back to get a good look at you and allowing those giant wings to support your balance. “What do you wanna do now?”
You’re already slipping out of your jeans before you answer. “Fuck me, hero.” You try to sound confident, you really do, but the request comes out sounding far too needy to be convincing. You’re not sure whether you want to slap that shit-eating grin right off his smug face or kiss it away.
He sits up a little straighter with interest, thumbs rubbing patterns into your hips and then catching the edge of your panties. That cocky smile only grows wider as he pulls your underwear down without a moment’s hesitation to see just how wet you’ve gotten for him. His hand presses between your thighs, ghosting over your clit and dragging a sigh out of you. “Wow, it doesn’t take much for you, does it?” His fingers slip into you before you can reply, scissoring your pussy open and all you can do is moan and hold on to him. You let out a little sound of disappointment when he pulls them out to lick your juices off but don’t have long to complain before he gets to the point. You can’t tear your gaze away from the movement of his hands; you watch intently as Hawks reaches for his pants and somehow manages to yank them down past his knees, taking his boxers with them and finally revealing his cock to you.
There’s no trace of self-consciousness on his face, only total satisfaction while you look him over. He’s not huge, proportioned nicely along with the rest of his body, and you have to admit it’s the best looking dick you’ve ever seen. He’s flushed such a pretty rosy color all down his length, light veins decorating him perfectly. The wide head of his cock stands eager for attention, you can’t wait to feel it buried inside you and your inner muscles clench at the idea.
“C’mere babe,” he grabs at your hips again, voice husky as you straddle his thighs and he lines himself up to enter you. Without a second thought he’s pulling you down onto his shaft, low groan in his throat as you sink down to take him. Your cunt is so wet you offer no resistance and he bottoms out inside you in one firm thrust. A choked little gasp escapes you and he pauses, fingertips tracing a random pattern along your thighs. “You okay there?” You nod, offering a little smile of your own as you adjust to the fit and the soothing touch of his hand stops to grip firmly at your hips. “That’s good. Hold on to me.”
You know how fast Hawks can move; you’ve seen plenty of videos from his fights. You’re expecting to get fucked at some near-inhuman speed, your brain scrambled inside your skull like a plate of eggs. He surprises you instead, holding you close and rutting up inside you slowly enough to make you intimately familiar with every inch of his cock sliding in and out of you. It’s unexpectedly intimate and you find yourself focusing on his face, where he’s still giving you that same pleased smirk. “I take my time when it matters,” he explains simply, pulling you down to meet his grinning lips. Another roll of his hips has you breaking away to let out a shaky whimper as his dick presses against your g-spot.
“F-faster, Hawks,” you pant, struggling to speed up against the steady hold on your hips keeping you in place. There’s a spark of mischief in his eyes that makes something in your stomach fip.
“Ask me nicely,” he teases, squeezing your hips down just a bit more to thrust deeper in your pussy. Well, you’re not going to beg; you have too much pride for that. You clamp your mouth shut and he laughs, wings flexing around you and grazing your back. “Bet I can make you ask for it,” he challenges, gaze never leaving yours and you can feel sweat trickle down your back.
Your partner keeps one hand firmly in place to control your movements but lets the other one roam over your body. You’re hyper aware of the path of his fingers while he circles your navel, tickling over your stomach and ribs and up to your breasts. He pinches at your nipple without warning and you cry out despite yourself and instinctively tighten around his dick in response to the simulation. “You’ve got a real nice voice,” he huffs out, voice rough and you think to yourself that you really shouldn’t enjoy the sound of it quite so much.
You’re not going to beg; you shut your eyes so you don’t have to look at that absolutely sinful expression on his face as he continues to fuck you at a brutally slow pace. Hawks shows no sign of giving up, he’s only spurred on by the squeezing of your cunt that you can’t control. He pulls you closer, nips at your ear and his tongue follows a bead of sweat running down your throat. His lips find your nipple again and suddenly it’s hard to breathe, your eyes snap open and the bastard winks at you, sucking it into the heat of his mouth and you can’t stop the way you clench tight around his dick.
You’re not going to beg, you remind yourself as a sound coming out of you that’s shamefully close to a whine slips out. You’re not going to beg, even when he lets go of your nipple with a wet pop and targets the other one. You’re not going to beg-
You’re so distracted by his attack on your breasts you don’t even notice him finally releasing your other hip to rub his calloused thumb over your clit, and your resolve snaps like a rubber band.
“Fuck, Hawks. Please, go h-harder! I need more, please. I-” your words devolve into a needy moan and his attention to your clit speeds up.
“See, all you had to do was ask.” His unoccupied hand reaches over to squeeze hard at your ass and he picks up speed, your body following along with his movements. “Was that so hard, honey?” His smile is taunting but you love it, your greedy cunt milking him for anything he’ll give you. You cry out for him and his grip tightens to pull you up and down faster on him; you wonder if he’s getting as close as you are. You relish every second he’s got you bouncing on his cock, his hand continuing to make quick work on your throbbing clit and you can feel yourself starting to come undone.
“H…god, Hawks, I’m gonna come, you feel-mmm, feel so good…” you manage to pant out in his ear, unsure if you feel lightheaded from the sex or the heat of your bodies trapped within his wings. He redoubles his efforts, thrusting up inside you with even harder, faster strokes and his touch against your clit becomes almost painfully intense. Your climax comes with his lips sucking a red mark into your neck, your own hands buried in his messy hair and your ragged voice squealing his name over and over.
He doesn’t last much longer once your own needs are taken care of. He fucks you at that same frantic speed for a few more minutes, enjoying the sight of your breasts jiggling with every rapid motion of his body as you do your best to keep up with it. Lucky for you both, he’s got enough sense to slam on the breaks and pull out at the last moment, painting your shaky thighs and stomach with his cum only seconds after retreating.
“Shit.” Hawks falls back against the couch and spreads his wings out to allow you to slip from his lap and sprawl uselessly beside him on the cushions. The two of you sit together for a minute, slowly catching your breaths and shooting each other satisfied glances. “Now that’s how you spend a rainy day,” he jokes and it’s so stupid you can’t help but laugh.
You’re a good host and remember to toss the dirty plate from earlier into the sink and offer him some water after that workout, and then excuse yourself to the bathroom to clean up the mess he’s made of your body. You come back out wearing an old t-shirt and fresh underwear and find yourself a little disappointed to see him slipping his own clothes back on. You watch him pull his jacket on, doing that same weird little shimmy from earlier to get his wings through the slits and have to admit that you still don’t understand how that works.
“Oh, are you leaving? You don’t have to, you can stay over if you want.” You try not to sound too hopeful.
He shrugs his shoulders and gives you a sad little smile. “Sorry, I gotta get back to work soon. A hero’s job is never done, and all that.” He puts his shoes back on then stops for a moment and steps over to you. You’re pulled in for a quick kiss before he opens the door. “I’ll see you around,” he calls before walking out. You’re not surprised to see a red blur flying past your window after another minute, soaring higher up into the clearing sky.
You sigh quietly and settle back down on your couch, reaching for your phone to distract yourself. You never bother to lock it simply for convenience’s sake, and you pause at the fact that there’s an open text to an unfamiliar number on your screen. You read it and grin when you realize who was using your phone.
🐔 the food’s my treat next time 🍴