Work Text:
Change Of Plan
The muffled unknown pop song playing in the speakers was the only thing keeping the small gas station store from being completely silent. The hum of slurpee machines and hotdog ovens were almost louder than the music. This time of the day was Hawks’s favorite, towards people’s bedtimes. There weren’t as many fans to follow after him, fewer eyes on him. The only downside being crime was less numerous, and more serious. Instead of constant robberies and petty threats to the city, the true scum of the scrap came crawling out from the blackened corners of every alley. They brought with them heinous offenses, the kinds that used to keep him at night during his younger years--which were not too long ago, in truth.
Hawks loved his job. Well, he loved aspects of his job. Saving lives may be a common task, the hero occupation a dime a dozen, but it didn’t make it any less remarkable. He was happy to protect the population. The honor being Number Two brought was unlike that of being an olympic athlete, or a war soldier. No, there was a heavier burden to carry, the pressure of having to uphold both your image and reputation--it wasn’t as easy as he made it look.
Flashing a toothy smile to everyone who called out his name, it put them at ease knowing someone like him was at the top of the billboards. Even the cashier he greeted on the way in seemed assured upon seeing him enter.
While sifting through the different snacks he hears the high - pitched ding of the bell, his mind already geared up in preparation for an interaction. A young boy’s voice was ushering his chaperone inside, giddy with the desire to buy something as indicated by his plethora of snack requests.
“Yes, yes. Go pick anything, as long as it's not candy. It’s late enough, okay?” A feminine tone answered, the fast tapping of the boy’s feet rapidly approaching the aisle the Winged Hero stood in.
Hawks was ready to give the usual routine; turn, smile and greet. He always preferred child fans over adult ones. At least they were more fun to interact with.
The boy bounces his way into the chips aisle, light up shoes screeching to a halt at the sight of Hawks. The pro hero cocks his head to the side with a big grin, and like a reflection the child mirrors him.
“Are… Are you real?” The boy asked quietly, frozen in place.
“I don’t know, am I …?” Hawks lifts a bushy brow, raising a hand to his chin as if to actually question his own existence.
The two are silent, until he notices the boy's eyes wander towards the red feathers.
“Can… Can I touch your wings?”
“Sure you can!” Hawks happily outstretches his wings, beckoning the boy over.
The kid prances over to him, both hands petting the hero’s wings as if he were petting an animal. He giggled, taken back from how soft they felt.
“What’s your name, champ?” Hawks questioned, reveling in the child’s enjoyment.
The boy gleefully told the hero his name, proud to have it. When Hawks repeated it, his eyes shined so bright they resembled stars, “Are you here to buy a nighttime snack, too?”
“Definitely! Heroes get hungry while working, and I’ve been dyin’ for something salty.” Hawks says, looking over the different colored bags of snacks. “What kinda chips do you like?”
Satisfied after having ruffled the hero’s feathers the child goes up on his tippy - toes to reach for a bag of Lays , sitting on a shelf a tad too high for him, “Uhm--... I like Lays! Mama says they’re really unhealthy , but we eat ‘em anyways cause they’re the best.”
“Ahh, good taste I see!” The hero jokes, helping to grab two bags of Lays. He hands one to the boy, smiling down at him in such a friendly manner the kid would have thought they’ve met before. But they haven’t. Hawks was just that warm of a person. Talking to people, especially kids, was easy for him. Whether it was instilled in him since he was young or it was just in his nature, he just had such a way with the child audience one would think he had his own. The idea may have crossed his mind.
In the corner of his eye Hawks spots you , stepping into view at the end of the aisle. You bat your eyelashes, eyes darting from him and whom he assumed to be your son. His pupils slitted, dilating to take your appearance in. He thought you were rather pretty.
“Is he yours?” He jut his head in the direction of the boy, who adorned the biggest smile you’d probably ever seen.
You blink several times, a common reaction. Bashfully, you walk over and grab your son’s hand,“Y-yes, I’m so sorry! Baby, don’t bother him.”
Hawks let out a hearty laugh, waving his hands in a reassuring manner, “Hey, it’s alright! He was just telling me about his favorite chips.”
“Mama, feel his wings! They’re like a puppy’s fur,” Your son pipes up, pulling on your arm in excitement.
You place a gentle hand over his head, quieting him, “No... He’s busy, honey--”
“Awoh, it’s fine, really!” Hawks interjected, “Got anything you want me to sign? I’d be happy to give your boy an autograph.”
Your mouth is open to speak, yet nothing comes out.
“Yeah! Can you sign my shirt?” Your son lets go of your hand and runs back up to him, stretching out the hem of his shirt.
“You sure? That’s such a nice lookin’ shirt, I’d hate to ruin it!” Hawks pulls out a pen, clicking it.
“It’s okay, I don’t care about this shirt. But I will after you sign it!”
Hawks squats down and grabs hold of the child’s shirt, signing his name in practiced handwriting, “Okay, let’s see. To my good pal…”
“Thanks, Hawks! You’re so cool, all my friends are gonna be jealous. But I can’t bring this to school, someone might steal it from me!” He admires the autograph forever marked on his shirt, hugging his own body with delight.
“Ooh, good idea. Hang it up on your wall in a giant picture frame,” the winged hero jokes, earning a fit of giggles from the boy.
You come up behind your son, hand resting at his shoulder, “Hey, don’t go giving him any ideas. He’s rather resourceful for his age.”
Standing up, he keeps his pen at the ready, “What about you? You want me to sign something for you?”
He likes the way your eyes grow wide, visibly unprepared. Your hand fishes through your bag, sifting through what sounded like papers and an assortment of other items. A small, square journal is taken out, colorful tabs sticking out in between pages. He watches you flip through to an empty page, and takes it from your hand.
He signs it slowly, “To my gorgeous fan…?”
You tell him your name, and he signs it carefully after you clarify the spelling.
“Pretty name for a pretty girl,” he says, winking at your son when he sniggers.
“You must say that to all the moms,” the side of your lips quirk up in a lop - sided smile.
“Just the pretty ones.”
There is a hint of a frown on your face, the smile still present, “Even if you don’t know their marital status?”
“I don’t see a ring on that finger,” The smirk on his face is dangerously teetering towards flirtatious. Though he often tried his best to keep things good-natured, some fans were just too cute to not play around with. “Besides, nothing wrong with a compliment is there?”
You held your hand out for your son to hold, his grip tight on your fingers. He couldn’t take his eyes off Hawks, who couldn’t seem to take his eyes off you .
“Thank you for the autograph, Hawks. You just made his night,” you say with a very appreciative tenor.
He winked again, at you this time, and walked past to go to the fridges. His gloved hand papped your son on the head, his wings brushing against you purposely as the ends trailed on the floor.
This particular gas station didn’t have the type of iced coffee he wanted, so he took a little while deciding which one was better. The calories didn’t matter, he was more focused on the taste. He sighed and picked up one that he hadn’t tried before, opting for a new taste.
“Don’t pick that one, it’s downright bland,” You warn, your son dragging you past the drinks section.
Hawks perks up, “Oh yeah? What do you reccomend?”
“Try the one in the glass bottle! It’s my favorite,” is all you say before disappearing into another aisle.
He slowly closes the door, not letting go of the handle for a moment.
Don’t. She has a kid.
By the time he went up the cash register, you were already there, scanning some chips and other treats. You didn’t notice him yet. You went to reach for your wallet, but he was faster. He hands the cashier some bills, your surprised reaction completely worth it.
“Oh! Hawks, what are--”
“Relax. It’s on me,” he says, expression soft.
You’re so completely taken aback, you are unable to say anything.
“You should close your before something goes in there,” he brings two fingers up to your chin, closing your jaw.
You slap his arm, voice lower than a whisper, “My son is right here.”
“What? I was talking about a fly! What were you thinking?”
You attempt to stifle your laughter, covering your son’s ears despite his protests.
He grabs the bag of items he bought for you, captivated by the glow in your face as he hands it to you. Before leaving, you give him another one of your sweet smiles and gratefully thank him. Your son waves him a fervent goodbye.
“Toodles!” He farewells to you both, watching you walk out the door. He kept thinking, debating if he should’ve given you his number. The cashier hands him the receipt and suddenly, after a short contemplation, his mind is made up.
He manages to catch you before you get inside the car, calling your name out so casually like he was your neighbor, or even your friend. He glides over, wings blowing small waves of wind, “You forgot your receipt.”
You take it from him, glancing down to see that he had written his phone number with the words, ‘CALL ME,’ a big winky face etched next to it. You scoff, your disbelief countered by the thrill in your eyes, “You’re way too friendly with civilians, you know that?”
He shrugged nonchalantly, “So I’ve been told. Not gonna stop me, though.”
You shake your head, and open the car door, “That’s a kind offer, but I don’t have time to mess around.” The way you gesture towards the backseat tells him that you were looking for something more serious nowadays.
Well, maybe he was too. He was just having… a hard time, so to speak.
“You can bring him, if you want. Let me take you guys out to a nice lunch.” He isn’t smirking anymore, the lids of his eyes lowered. These smaller changes gave him a more affable presence.
You take one last look at the receipt and fold it into your pocket, “I’ll text you.”
He gives a little wave as you drive away, twiddling his fingers at the little boy in the backseat whose hands were pressed up against the window to stare.
It’s not when you leave his sights does he let his posture droop.
A single mother. Really? What’s the matter with you, she needs support not a dick appointment.
This was completely unlike him. He knew better.
Perhaps this was because of the little internal turmoil he had last month after deciding to lessen up on the hook ups. He told himself he shouldn't keep letting different faces come into his bed. Knowing deep down he feared getting involved in a serious relationship, getting attached was risky! The possible risks, dangers--the consequences…!
Of course he wanted to get serious. In the back of his convoluted mind he wanted nothing more than to settle down and have a family. He just didn’t think he'd realize how much he wanted it, standing outside a gas station during nightfall of all times, right after meeting a lovely woman and her son.
Oh, Keigo, what did you get yourself into?
⋆⋆⋆
Your heart was still racing.
It was one thing to get to meet a prohero. It was an entirely different thing for a prohero to volunteer taking you out for lunch.
Hawks was so casual in asking you out, it was unbelievable. You suspected he wasn't serious, this type of encounter a usual thing for him -- or so you’ve heard in the magazines. He joked about it in interviews. So at first you took his little invite as a one time date. He was a massively popular hero, and he just met you. Yeah, he was bored. Or he felt like being charitable, wanted to make a single mom and her son feel special.
The situation just struck you as surreal. Whatever his motive was, you weren’t going to pass up such an opportunity. Your son would have so much fun! The three of you could snap some pictures, record the little tike asking one of his favorite heros every question imaginable. It’d make for a good memory. On the other hand part of you wanted to see it as a date, like a dream come true. It seemed like it was the hero’s initial intention after all, since he gave you his phone number. Hawks was a very attractive man, easily the most good - looking man you’ve ever seen. His charm, his charisma, could a man be any more perfect? It was hard to believe someone like him actually wanted to get involved with a family .
Maybe the man who was too fast for his own good wanted to finally slow down.
Don’t get your hopes up. Take it as it is, a fun lunch.
When you got home, you stayed up with your son curled up on the couch an hour past his bedtime, watching your shared favourite tv show. It may have been a tad too mature for him to really understand, but he liked it enough to beg you for a bedtime extension. You spoiled your son to a degree, bending the rules every now and then as long as he was good.
Around nine he brushed his teeth, as per your order because you knew if he fell asleep before doing so he’d throw a fit. Right as the mother you were, he had fallen asleep on your stomach clutching the Hawks action figure he insisted on having with him for the night. You tucked him into his soft, Best Jeanist comforter, pulling the thick blanket up to his collarbone. You gave him the gentlest of kisses on his forehead, smiling at his resting form. Tomorrow was going to the best day of his life(thus far), and you were excited for him. You were too, as guilty as it felt.
Hey, you need a break. This will be both for both of you
You sit back down on the couch, a glass of water in one hand and your phone in the other. In your lap lay the unfolded receipt with Hawks’ number, his words on constant rewind.
Just do it, already. Don’t deny your son -- or yourself -- a good time. Where was the harm in any of this?
You swallow your apprehension down, all doubt washed away by the water until the cup was empty. Typing in his number you checked it, then checked it again.
‘ Hey, It’s me. The woman you met at the gas station. Where were you thinking for tomorrow? :) ’
Sent.
Your lips were sucked into your face from how nervous you were, fingers tightening around the empty glass as you waited for his response. Hawks replied right away.
‘Oh, man. I was worried the hot mom was going to bail on me. ;) There’s a real nice place uptown I think you’ll like. Popular for families. Your little chicklet will have a hard time choosing from the menu.’
His cheeky demeanor was readable even through text. A smile creeped up on you.
‘ I hope it’s not too expensive, no offense. :p I gotta take it easy on the wallet .’
‘ Lol. Cute AND funny. Don’t worry about the dollar bills. Meet me at 1 PM? It’s called Sally’s BBQ .’
Your eyes fluttered closed. He was hospitable, you heard, but he already paid for your snacks earlier. When you looked back at the phone you noticed he had sent you directions on how to get there with the fastest route. There was no backing out.
‘ You’re too much... See you there, Hawks. :) ’
⋆⋆⋆
The time was five minutes past one. Hawks was patiently waiting for your arrival in a reserved, private dinner room. It had a sliding door to prevent peepers from being too nosy, and a beautiful view of the city from an enormous wall - sized window. He made sure to pick a room on the upstairs level, farther away from the people. It was better for you as well, in case you were the type to be put off by stares. Or worse, though rarely, targeted.
It wasn’t until when ten more minutes had gone by did he hear a knock, wings stiffening as his head turned towards the opening door. There stood you and your son, who clung to your leg like a koala. The little tiger’s attitude changed when he saw Hawks, immediately leaving your side to run up to him.
“Hawks!” He exclaimed, waving his tiny hands up at the hero.
“Your guests have arrived, Hawks. Your waitress will be right with you,” The hostess says before leaving the three of you alone.
The man of wings waves his bare hands, then holds them still for the kid to double - highfive, “Hey, kiddo! Go take a seat, you hungry?”
“Yes, and I love BBQ food!” He says, going to sit up on a chair.
Hawks turns his attention to you, pulling your chair out for you, “Hey you, get over here! Take a look at the menu, pick whatever you like.”
You sit in your seat, next to your son, thanking him quietly, “This place is huge, I felt like I could have gotten lost on the way up here. Really neat design though, it’s cozy.”
“Oh yeah, but it ain’t famous for its interior. The food here is top - notch, well - cooked and super fresh.” He takes his place across from you, handing you a menu. A kids menu is slid over to your son, along with a pack of crayons.
You held the menu in your hands, occupied with marveling at the layout of the room. He didn’t say anything to you as he observed your wonderment, giving himself a mental pat on the back for picking the venue. Your behavior gave the impression that it was to your liking.
“You look nice,” he compliments, having looked you over.
A beautiful set of eyes locked with his, much more clear in this lighting compared to the crude, fluorescent lights of the gas store he saw you under. Even then, he thought you were a sight for sore, avian eyes.
“Who, me?” You looked down at your outfit, suddenly shy, “It’s nothing special, just my usual wear. I think you look quite fashionable, though.”
Hawks followed your gaze to his pricey watch and many rings, “Oh, please, cutie. Just a white t-shirt and jeans, I only look fancy ‘cause of my jewelry.” Opening up his menu, he turns to his go - to page, “So, you want any suggestions or you feel like bein’ bold?”
“Hmmm, I’ll take a look-see first. If I’m still unsure, I’ll let you pick something for me,” you take your time browsing through the choices, silently relishing at the images of truly delectable dishes.
His eyesight is too perfect; he can tell you’re looking at the prices beside each platter’s description, darting to another choice, changing your mind out of guilt. His visage flickers to your boy, finding something adorable in watching the innocent little thing read the information under every photo of food. The wings on the hero’s back could pick up the swinging of his small feet under the table, he was calm and comfortable here. Wanting to engage in a little conversation with him, Hawks reaches across the table and taps a finger on a picture he seemed to be fixated on.
“That one is really yummy .” He encourages.
“Like, really really yummy ? How yummy on the yummy scale?” The boy asked, already willing to try it if Hawks liked it.
“On the yummy scale, huh?” Hawks prop his arm up on the table to rest his face against his hand, “If one was totally not yummy, and ten was the yummiest… Eleven!”
“Hawks, that’s not even on the scale!” The cutest of reactions plastered the boys face, jaw dropped dramatically.
“That’s just how good it is. You wanna try it?” Hawks peers at you from the corner of his eyes, not attempting to hide the upturns in the corners of his mouth when your son gives a vigorous nod.
You’re fighting back your own smile, and failing horribly. Your reluctance to pick something on the menu eventually faded, and you picked a meal that appealed to your tastes. From the point of waiting for the food, to eating it, he noted how your modest front slowly disappeared to reveal a more lively version of you. He figured you were being humble because, well, of him. It was a reality he chose not to acknowledge, hoping that if he simply ignored your politeness you would loosen up.Thankfully, that’s just what happened.
Exchanging in playful banter, talking a bit about work(as much as he could), you got to know each other more. You were invested in the short stories he told about patrolling, the times in which he thought were the roughest missions. There were even a few quips about how lazy he actually was. He then got to hear from you the struggles of being a single mom, without sounding like you were calling for help. Even still you apologized right after, telling him you didn’t mean to sound so weak or whiney.
“I’m so sorry, it’s not very appealing for me to be moaning about my life, is it?” You breathed a soft type of chuckle, lowering your gaze to your plate. Your ability to keep a smile could challenge some heroes he knew.
“You kiddin’?” He’s truthfully blown away by how much you’ve endured despite having no help. “I thought I was a hero. You’re a true Superwoman--no, Wonderwoman! Taking care of that sweet little fella must be tough all on your own. I don’t know if my opinion really matters but uh… I think you’re doin’ a fine job.”
Your mood lifted. He watched as that faint smile blossomed and spread like a butterfly. His one compliment had you shimmering with delectation. This had a bigger effect on you than the compliment he gave you last night.
Has no one ever given you a bouquet of parenting praises before? What kinda men have tried courting you?
He hoped you had gotten to see him as less of a celebrity, if it were possible, and more of a chill guy who only wanted to lounge around for hours on end. That was impossible for your son however, in the kiddo’s mind Hawks will always be someone extraordinary. It was understandable, he was a child after all.
In between conversations, you took pictures and videos of your son and the hero talking, laughing at how effortlessly Hawks socialized with him. The waiters coming in would have believed you were his secret family, whispering to each other about how odd this was for their usual customer to bring in a mother and her child. He trusted, or rather highly counted on, the workers not to spread anything around the city. If so, he expected it. He’ll handle it when it comes down to it… If you wanted to see him again.
In all honesty, he really liked you. The maternal traits you bore, your gorgeous face and tender - like personality had him by the wings. You were already a mother of one , meaning you were ripe and fertile. It stirred up the family - seeking instincts buried deep down in his soul, the ones that only manifested during his ruts, when he couldn’t hide nor control them. You were perfect.
“Hey, pardon miss,” Hawks called for the female waitress before she could leave again, handing her his phone, “Mind taking our picture? All three of us.”
Your son seated himself on your lap, grinning wildly at the camera. Hawks felt himself smile the most sincere smile he’s ever made in front of a camera, not that all of them were plastic. Some were genuine. It felt real this time, unrehearsed and natural. It’s why he may have looked at his own face first when he retrieved his phone back. You looked joyful, doting arms draping over your son’s torso, both of you smiling so wide it reached your eyes.
After the waitress left and Hawks had paid, it was just the three of you again. Neither of you said anything, your son the only one okay with the silence, not finding anything odd about you two staring at one another wordlessly. He wanted to tell you about how different this was from his usual dates. The women he hooked up with, he hardly ever bonded with so quickly, the depth of the fondness and attraction he had towards you was like exploring heights in his dreams. A heaven he didn’t think existed. What a hidden gem you were.
“Uhm--...” You check the time on your phone. “It’s about time for me to go about my day. Mom duties, errands, all that…”
Your son deflates, hands grabbing for Hawks’s hands across the table, “Awwuh, Mama! Do we have to leave now?”
Hawks clasped his hands together with the boy’s itty bitty ones, “Don’t be so upset, kiddo. Who knows, maybe we’ll see each other again…?”
“Yes, I think we’ll definitely get to see you another time,” You affirm his disguised query. Your hands joined the ball of hands in the middle of the table, adding warmth. “Thank you for lunch, Hawks. This has been the absolute best date I’ve ever had. Even if you are a hero, I feel so… at home? I don’t know, you’re folksy and informal. I didn’t expect this.”
He removes one hand from the pile and places it above yours,, “Keep in touch with me, yeah? I’ll message you later. We can plan something.”
Leaving was something heartwrenching for your son, his innocent, eyes welling up. Tears beaded up at the rims, threatening to spill over down his punchable face. He managed to keep a steeled face, sniffling here and there as he gave his beloved hero a hug. Moved by the dramatic display, Hawks lifted the boy up in his arms, carrying his near weightless body at his durable side like a father would.
“Baby, don’t cry!” You stifle your giggles, rubbing his back soothingly, “You’ll see him again soon!”
The child’s glossy focus is centralized on Hawks’ unique set, circular pupils forming into slitted ellipsis, amazed at this new ability he never knew the birdman possessed. He kept dilating and shrinking them, seeing as it distracted the boy from falling into a sobbing mess, “Ew… Hawks, what’s wrong with your eyes?”
He laughed a hearty laugh, “They help me see things better! Just a lil’ somethin’ for you to remember ‘till the next you see me.”
A soft pair of lips lands at the man’s cheek, sinking above his chiseled jaw. His avian pupils shrunk into pinpricks, swimming in pools of white. He stares at you, mouth dropping at the unexpected, yet sweet, gesture. Hawks was hardly ever a blusher, being the type to make other’s gush at him. Your kiss got him red in the face, closely matching the hue of his feathers. Had he actually won you over? Or maybe, it was the other way around.
I am head over heels for this chick.
“That’s a little something for you to remember me by,” You tittered into his ear, “Come on, sweetie, we’ve got to go. We still have to go get groceries, remember?”
He could have chased your parting breath as you stepped back, allowing the kid to stand on his feet. It could have chased you away though, so he resisted and returned the favor with a simple, signature smile, “See you soon, Wonderwoman.”
⋆⋆⋆
You saw Hawks countless more times for several months after that date. In fact, after the first month you allowed him into the comfort of your own home, where no viscous paparazzi would threaten to snap a photo of you two. Luckily, he’s been able to keep you hidden under his large wings, figuratively and literally, refraining others from seeing who this mystery woman was. No one could confirm it, making it as plain as a rumor. Against his words, normally golden and evertrue, the public media attempted to prove that the hero was seeing someone. Some eyewitnesses denied seeing you, some traitorous fans would spill the tea and others just blatantly lied, the seedlings of those rumors.
Hawks was so good at keeping things wrapped up, people eventually gave up. He was so bored by interviews, visibly annoyed at reporters and talk show hosts, no one wanted to pursue it any longer.
The only worry was your son. He was a bright boy, understanding of the situation after you compared it to revealing a hero’s biggest secret: their weakness. Just like how if people found out about All Might’s kryptonite, if people, even his classmates, were to know of his mother’s relationship to the Number Two Hero--she or him would get whisked away! You thanked God the boy was mature enough to get the picture.
You were also worried about how he’d take to you dating Hawks once he caught on to it, your long kisses and peculiar hugs tucked away in the kitchen plenty clues for connecting the dots. It wasn’t until one night when you overheard him and Hawks talking did you realize you’ve underestimated how cognitive he was about it.
You were just behind the counter, chopping up veggies, carefully eavesdropping on the two as they watched television.
“Hey Hawks,” He had said, cupping his mouth as if it would muffle his loud whispering, “I have a secret to tell you…”
Hawks leaned over, “Oh yeah? Cross my heart and hope to die, please tell me!”
“I think my mom likes you. Like, really likes you. Like, has a crush on you!” He says it like it was a treasure from his mind only he had, sharing it so sacred.
Hawks feigned a small gasp, covering his mouth when the boy shushed him loudly, “What, no way…! Can I tell you a secret?”
He nodded wildly.
“I have a crush on your mom, too!” Hawks says, finding a great deal of comfort in how tenacious his reaction was, like he was relieved from a certain stress. He didn’t just like Hawks as a hero, but he also gleefully accepted him as your new lover.
This then brought about the child’s question the next day. Alone in the house, just the two of you eating dinner, he asks you the million dollar question you had been waiting for.
“Mom?” He said, swallowing his food. “Is Hawks gonna be my dad?”
You set your utensils down, “How would you feel if Hawks was going to be your dad?”
“I think it’d be cool! Are you gonna have a big wedding?” He asks it so passively, so uncomplicated.
“--! Uhh, not quite sure yet, baby.” You respond, picking up your fork to stab at some food.
“Oh okay. Does this mean I can call him ‘Papa?’” He freezes at your sudden coughing, “Mama! Are you, okay?!”
You tap at your chest, shakily reaching for your glass of juice, “Hrk--! Y-yes, baby, I’m fine! Food just went down the wrong way…”
He waits for you to stop coughing, frowning in worry. Your reassuring tap on his shoulder doesn’t completely render him convinced. Nonetheless, a few minutes pass and he asks again, “So can I…?”
You pause, meeting your son’s curious gaze, “...You know what? I think I’ll ask him for you, and I’ll tell you what he thinks. How’s that sound?”
“Okay! Do you think he’ll let me?”
“Yeah, I think so,” you brush the back of your fingers on his full cheek, relieved. The question may have been an innocent one, but it revealed that he was wholly ready to accept Hawks as his father figure.
You had to admit, the man was no longer just a boyfriend. Taking turns sleeping over at each other’s houses, him providing for you two-- taking care of your son --the passionate fucking. It’s a talk you’ve danced around together, neither quite willing to submerge into that pool of gravity. You both desperately wanted to share thoughts about it, though at the same time there was mutual fear of not meeting the other’s wishes. It was obvious Hawks was taking this relationship very seriously. There was just something inside you that had you worried he may be the type to ditch and flee when the authenticity of the relationship was spoken.
There were way too many men in your life that abandoned ship the moment you brought up sealing the deal, and asking them how’d they feel about joining your family… Helping to raise and support your boy--they’d all leave. It seemed to you that most men, young or old, nowadays just wanted just fuck and go. They wanted you, and merely tolerated your son as a result. In fact, they didn’t know how to handle a kid. It wasn’t right.
You decided maybe that talk should happen tonight.
⋆⋆⋆
The unlocking of the front door alerted you of your lover’s entry. It was his usual time of coming ‘home,’ should he ever choose to stay the night at your house. He greeted you merrily in the kitchen, giving you a long desired kiss.
“Hi pretty bird, you want some leftovers? They’re only a day old, I can pop them in the microwave,” you offer, turning the faucet off and wiping your wet hands on a hanging cloth.
“I love your home made leftovers more than anything. Unfortunately, I already ate a big meal an hour ago and I’m still just about to pop,” he removes his visor from atop his head, placing it on the kitchen countertop. “Kiddo’s in bed?”
“Yup, he’s fast asleep…” You slowly turn around, resting back against the edge of the counter, “Y’know… He actually asked me something a while ago…”
He was in the middle of removing his gloves, sliding them off and looking in your direction. He caught wind of the slight increase in your heartbeat, the faint, somber tone laced in your voice. His face remained calm, in light of his concern, “Oh? What’d he say?”
Your fingers rapped against the marbled surface, “He asked if he could call you ‘Papa.’”
Hawks’s lashes fluttered as he blinked, feathery brows raising up at the news. His wings fruffled and beat hard enough it blew a wave of air towards you. He was overcome with happiness at the prospect of being a “father’ to your lovely little boy. He already did in the best ways he could without overstepping boundaries. It was nice to hear that the kid was recognizing that. Your mood didn’t seem to reflect his own feelings, however. He was suddenly tormented with the idea that this relationship wasn’t supposed to reach that point.
“D-Dove, that’s adorable, that’s so heartwarming,” he laughed breathlessly. “Why on Earth are you so gloomy about it? Is… Is that not a good thing?”
His reaction lifted a huge amount of anxiety off your already tired shoulder, you felt free as a feather. You let out a long sigh of relief, slumping against the counter, “Oh, thank goodness…!”
He walked over to you, hands grabbing at your sides, fearful of you falling over, “Jeez, baby, what’s wrong?”
You sagged your forehead on his hard chest, smelling his faint traces of cologne, “I was so scared you’d be tipped off…”
He had to physically restrain his vocal chords from elevating to levels that’d wake your son, “ What ? Baby, no, absolutely not…! What would make you think such a thing? I thought I did a good job at hinting I had no qualms about helping to raise your son. I’ve squeezed myself into your little family, and quite aggressively sometimes if I do say so myself.”
“I know, I know…!” You stand up straighter, wrapping your arms around his waist to make the embrace more intimate. “I was just… I don’t know, I was just afraid.”
His hand meets the back of your head, nuzzling you closer to him, “I stayed here by your side this long, didn’t I? I’m not like some rat who’s gonna scamper off just ‘cause they’re too scared to be attached to your boy. I love that precious tyke, just as much as I love you. Don’t you know that?”
Such sweet words uttered by him, one of the sweetest things he’s ever told you. It beat all the sweet nothings he whispered in your ear at night, all those passion-filled ‘I love you’s.’ You looked up at him, his eyes glowing even in the dim lighting of the kitchen. His pupils were expanded largely to soak up your image, your beautiful face.
He presses a loving kiss to your forehead, “Hell, I’d love that kid to start calling me his Pops. Makes me feel like a real father , heh… I’m a real family man, if you can’t tell by now.”
“Maybe… Maybe in the future we could… expand the family?” Your voice trailed off at the end of your sentence, meak and unsure. “I’m sure the little boy could use a brother, or a sister--... or two…?”
If you were implying that you wanted to have another kid, one that was of his… Oh, what a thought that was. All this talk of family, and children… Making children. It was getting him a bit worked up. Voice low and husky, his hand tightened on your hip, the other sliding down your head towards your neck, “Expand the family, huh? I’d love to have a child with you… How far in the future you thinkin’?”
You could hear the desire dripping from his words, thighs closing up, “I’m… I’m ready whenever you are, Hawks...”
That cranked the dial up by many notches, his breathing heavy on your face. His thumbs knead into the sides of your stomach, traveling to the space just below your belly button, “Yeah? Think you’re ready to… get knocked up again?”
His wording had your knees weak. You pulled his face close, lips lingering, “I want you to knock me up, Hawks…”
You hit the bed with a quiet thump , hands groping and grappling at bare skin, having removed them on the way to the bedroom. He’s straddling you, muscles thighs keeping you in place. His lips were on yours, worming his tongue along the inside. He devoured your mouth, thin dribbles of saliva dripping down your chin and wetting the scuff of his. He creates a path of kisses down to your breasts, the soft plush, pieces of fat that he loved to suckle on. One rough hand cupped one breast, relishing in the weight of it, forefinger and thumb pinching at the rapidly hardening nipple. His other hand went to the unoccupied breast, gathering the sensitive bud up into his warm, awaiting mouth.
“You’re worse than an infant, I can never get you off those things,” You squirm, hands pushing and pulling at his head, unsure if you want more or less.
He pops off one breast to respond, moving to other right after, “Just you wait ‘till you start getting all milky, then you’ll really have a problem…:
He lapped at your breasts for minutes on end. The wetness between your legs was growing, as was your neediness. You could feel his aching cock through his tight briefs, trying to tear out and enter any wet hole of warmth it could find. You pushed at his chest, and he fought against you, trying to pin your arm down on the mattress as he sucked away at your overstimulated nips, “Baby, I want you… Let me take care of you…”
It was a struggle to get him to unlatch from your sore chest. He let up, letting you roll him over so you were laying on top of his lithe build. He half-sat up, leaning back against the headboard so his wings had some space to unfurl out the sides of him.
You mouthed at his hard pecs, tonguing his small nipples, oscillating and nibbling. He grunted, head thrown back at the small waves of pleasure you provided him. He whined, closing his eyes.
“Not so fun when you get the same treatment, is it?” You tease, creating a path of kisses down his abdominals, stopping short of the briefs. They hugged his hips, exaggerating every curve and bulge in his pelvis. His cock was ready to burst at the seams of his underwear, a dark spot blooming from where the tip of cock rested. “Mmmm, aren’t you excited… You had a long day at work, let me help you…”
“Like I said, I’m a family man. You want a kid, I'll gladly give you one, baby…” He swallowed thickly as he watched you tear the waistband of his briefs down so that it cradled his balls nicely. Plump and round as always, hanging snugly just below his cock that stood leaky and thick.
You gave his sack a good polishing, sucking with obscene, slurpy sounds. He spread his legs wide, wings copying them. Your tongue so wet and gentle against his throbbing testes, thrumming with life and sperm. You sucked one ball in, stuffing it into your cheek, rolling your pink muscle around it to lather it in excessive amounts of slobber. His wings thumped happily against the wood of the board behind him. The intense longing could only be relieved by the occasional stroke of his member, becoming immediately unbearable as you rubbed a thumb into his plush taint. Between the suction on his balls paired with the careful massage of his sack, he couldn’t take it anymore.
Your lover had to yank you away from his balls, the heavy musk having taken you hostage. He was panting, his head resting at the headboard, “As much as I love seeing your pretty face down there, I don’t wanna waste this load. ‘Sides, I think I oughta repay you for that…?”
You blink up at him, letting him guide you atop him. He slides down, lying flat on his wings.
“Your wings…!”
“I’m a big boy, I’ll be fine… Just want a small taste of you, that’s all…” He pats his chest, smug in the face. “C’mon, come take a seat on your hero’s face.”
You feel the heat in your face at his request, laughing lightly, “Yes, sir, right away…”
Both hands on the headboard, you settle yourself to hover just above his face. He held fast to your thick thighs, not wanting you to budge an inch. He blew cool air into your otherwise hot pussy, delving deep into your wet walls with a skilled tongue. Eating your sweet cunt could have been a daily ritual for all he cared, nothing compared to your scent and taste. So fertile, and accepting. The hold he had on you was stoney, but you still managed to squirm and lift off from sensitivity.
“Stop runnin’ from me…” He murmurs between your soft thighs, bringing you back down. He lapped and sucked at your folds, flicking at your clit with his tongue. He gave quick sucks to each labia, kissing here and there. The moans you let out were music to his ears, every note going straight to his still aching cock. He didn’t stop until you were gushing all over his gorgeous face, and his wings were knocking on the bed, red feathers falling everywhere.
“Nghh--!! Fuck, that’s so good,” you covered your mouth to stifle your louder sounds, afraid to wake your son. It was harder to do when he was still lapping at you through the aftershocks, the muscles in your thighs twitching uncontrollably, “P-Please, that’s enough…!”
“Heh… Sounds good to me, you’re all slicked up ready to ride me, yeah?” He says, smacking your ass. You wince, despite the soothing rubs he gives.
You climb down, straddling his waist. From your upward view, you’re able to take in his adonis of a frame. From below, he sees nothing short of a marvelous caricature.
A tough grip on your hips with a single hand, he guides his engorged tip to your entrance, letting it sink past your folds. He’s muttering himself, slowly losing his mind. You cry out, the stretch a painful bliss. With both hands back on you, he didn’t dare wait any longer. He forced you down on his cock to meet his bucking hips, loudly wet and punishing. Balls-deep, every thrust. You cried out, slick running down past your folds and creating a lovely layer of cum on around his base.
“Fffffuck, baby, you’re so tight around me,” he huffs, eyes rolling up at the pleasure. His wings were getting crimped up, but he didn’t care, “Ghh, feel so good bouncin’ on my dick…”
You were choking on your moans, barely able to keep up with him. You held on to his shoulders, letting him take the pace and control, slamming you down on his cock to hit every deep sweet spot. Your walls clung to him, not wanting him to leave your warm, sloppy pussy. Trying to match his pace was difficult, the force at which he slammed you down on him too great to stop.
You mumbled something that fell on his deaf ears, his mind too hazy with lust to quite understand. He was too focused on the tight grip around him, “--Wha…? What baby?”
“B-Breed me,” you babble, falling forward on his chest.
The word itself has his avian pupils constricting again. A thought tresspasses of his own volition; yes, he wants to breed you and give you his young. All those pent up emotions and repressed instincts from seeing you mother that sweet boy, he wants to see you do the same to another--one of his own.
The man of wings rips you off his cock, wincing at the lack of wet warmth. You’re whining at the emptiness, confused and disappointed when you were so close. He pushes you onto your back, your vision landing on the ceiling until he’s above you. He rolled his shoulders, relaxing the muscle. His wings twitched and fanned outward, a pseudo - umbrella that offered protection, hiding you from the rest of the world. He wanted you to think of him as your world, maybe even shelter you. Let it be just you and him, his cock and your gushing cunt.
Legs up over your head, kneecaps bumping your shoulders, he pressed down on the backs of your thighs. You were effectively folded in half and with his weight on you, his thighs upon yours, you weren’t moving any time soon.
“You’re such a lovely mother,” he coos into your ear, prodding your entrance, streaking your folds in his clear fluids. He’s repeating it like a mantra, “...such a good mama, so good…”
“F-fuck a baby into me, pretty birdy,” you say back, clenching around nothing but his seeping juices. “Put that cock back in me and I’ll make you a father of as many kids as you want--!”
His cock pushed back into you, sunken in deep until he was nudging your unprotected cervix. He was at it again, pumping into you, fucking you into the bed so hard the springs creaked. Balls sticking and unsticking to your ass he pulled out and quickly filled you back up, moaning hot in each other’s faces--it was a vulgar display of mating.
It was hard to breathe, but completely worth the effort. You were being fucked by a man who was trying to make your cunt a home for his cock, for the sole purpose of nesting his cum into the deepest parts. Your nails were marking small, crescent moons into his back, raking down whenever your grip faltered. The guttural moans he released were a teller of how much he loved it.
“Your boy… He looks an awful lot like you, don’t he?” He says, panting, “If I spray enough of my DNA into you, God damn --... I wonder… if the next one will look like me? Wouldn’t that be nice?”
You only muster up an ‘ uh-huh ,’ at a loss for words from his purposeful breeding. He’s at this for a while, trading moans and spit whenever he leans down to kiss you. Your toes are flaring and curling, an orgasm finally taking over you. You’re cumming all over his cock, dragging him with you over the edge. Staying still proves difficult as your cunny milks him for all he’s worth, siphoning directly into your womb, an ongoing stream of his load. His balls are tingling, shuddering against your skin, dumping load after load.
He gives a few more shallow pumps, sticky head smushing against your battered cervix, “Gotta--hng…! Make sure it takes…”
It’d take regardless considering how fertile you were and how much of a virile stud he was. He just liked going above and beyond because it rocked his socks off. It surely did something to you, nails inching towards his wings, flapping zealously as the last of his spurts finally dripped out. Stuffed and brimming with white, creamy goodness, he pulled out slowly, an audible popping sound heard. It was like unplugging a stopper from a stopped up sink, too full to contain any more. His cum poured out, running down your crack, along your puckered anus.
The tuckered out birdy fell back on his haunches, his legs giving out quickly. He fell on his ass, forearms keeping him up, bed rocking. Blinking slowly, he stared at the mess he made, “Oh man… What a sight, look at that pretty creampie…”
You couldn’t move, muscles laxed and weakened. Laying in your lust - filled daze, hand on your stomach, you felt the bed rocking some more. The mattress shifted on your side, your lover and hero coming to occupy the empty space beside you. In the crook of your neck, he slid his head into, cheek adhering to your sweat-glazed skin. You feel full and happy, like in the way you do after consuming a big meal and wanting to nap right after. Thankfully, Hawks had turned off all the lights with the use of his feathers before reaching the room. The only one that remained was the lamp on the side of your bed, which too switched off as a red feather zoomed out of his back.
“I can’t go to bed like this,” you speak slowly, sleep threatening to take you away.
“Like what?” He asks just as languidly, hand moving to cover yours where it rest upon your belly, as if he could already feel the life growing inside.
“There’s cum… all over my thighs… and sheets,” you clarify, attempting to muster up enough strength to go to the restroom and clean yourself. “We should go take a shower…”
His wings shoot up despite being completely worn, “What? And let all my efforts go down the drain? Literally ?”
You laugh at him, adjusting your hand so that it could be intertwined with his, “Fine, fine… We’ll give it a moment…”
He intertwined his legs with yours, closing his eyes, “Y’know… I really meant every word I said. Might’ve been a bit horndogged but… I don’t know if I say it enough. I really do think you’re a wonderful mother, I’m blessed to have found you. And your son. I can’t wait to take care of more… Gonna have a gazillion lil chickies runnin around--or flyin’! We’ll see…”
You turn your head to look at him. He’s so pleasantly relaxed, eyes closed and lips upturned in a sweet smile, fantasizing about your future family. Little do you know, he’s also pondering about the day he can finally tell you his name. But such a decision should be saved for another day. A day when he didn’t think telling you his name would put a curse on you. A day when he was completely confident in himself to protect you and your family. For now, he would continue to love and devote himself to you, because to him it shouldn’t quite matter(yet) that you know his real name.
Whether he was Hawks or Keigo, you were his family. And he loved that.