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Phantom Limbs

PAIRING: Takami Keigo (Hawks) x fem!reader

GENRE: angst | comfort | smut

Minors DNI

TAGS + WARNINGS: dry humping, nipple play, spit play, light manhandling, hair pulling, creampie, overstimulation, marking (scratches)

Let me know if I missed anything.

WORD COUNT: 3.7k

SUMMARY: Having lost his wings, there's only so much Takami can do to help other heroes and save innocent civilians. And with him having even less time on his hands, you do whatever you can to take care of him.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Posting on my birthday is like a little gift from me to me :)

You wait by the windows out of habit.

The book in your hand has remained open on the same page for the past fifteen minutes, your eyes reading the words, but your brain too distracted to process them. Your focus is more on the corners of your peripheral vision, hoping to catch something, anything outside. All that’s offered in the great outdoors is grey skies and an even greyer atmosphere. Though, you suppose you should know better by now.

Because, as of late, he’s been entering your shared home through the front door.

The sound of the jiggling knob has you up from your seat in a second; you slam your book shut and toss it onto the coffee table (never mind saving your page). You’re at the entrance when the door fully opens, anxiously shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

Takami’s eyes widen ever so slightly at your rushed movements, but he then exhales as he kicks off his boots.

“Honey, I’m home,” the Pro Hero quips, though his tone and smile lack his usual energy. You greet him back while helping him remove his jacket, the material cold and damp in your hands. You get a better look at him once you turn back to him. With the harsh weather and being outside for who knows how long, it’s only natural for him to deal with those conditions’ blunt force. Soaked to the bone, he shivers, though you can tell he’s trying to stop his movements. His blonde hair is now a dark gold from the rain, stray strands sticking to his forehead. It’s a miracle his skin isn’t blue, but he’s definitely a few shades too pale. And his eyes—they haven’t known rest even before the Paranormal Liberation War, but dealing with the aftermaths of such a tragedy takes its toll even on the strongest of heroes.

You gently rest your hand on his cheek, your thumb lovingly caressing the new scar on his skin. “What are you doing out there?”

Takami sighs, relaxing in your hold before shifting his head to peck your palm. “Oh, the usual.”

You’d press for more if the look he gave you weren’t one of exhaustion, almost pleading. Instead, you rake the fingers of your free hand through his hair, careful not to tug on any knots.

“How about a shower?” you hum. “I’ll even help you out.”

The blonde mumbles something in agreement, seemingly too low on energy for any more words, before following you to the bathroom.

Several months back in your relationship, you’d struggle to have him in your home, what with his gigantic wings. He’d rarely knock over your belongings due to his cautiousness, but it didn’t change that your apartment wasn’t Wing-Hero-friendly.

That was the least of your problems when he decided to stay over. Your bed wasn’t big enough for the two of you, and you’d wake up in the morning to find his wings positioned uncomfortably. Even when Hawks would dismiss your concern, you weren’t fooled. But going from queen-sized to king-sized wasn’t an issue compared to your bathroom. Even sharing the space with a wingless person was bound to have you two bump into each other, and yet, your boyfriend made himself at home.

With your apartment now nothing more than a pile of rubble, all those concerns seem foolish, almost cruel, as you actually went out of your way to get a larger bed for him.

What’s crueller is that a smaller space would no longer be an issue now that his wings are gone.

You can’t help but think about all of this bitterly every time you two enter the shower. The one in Takami’s home is far bigger, made to accommodate his wings, but it’s all just empty space. He settles on the shower stool with a heavy exhale, and you stand behind him to wash his hair, letting the warm water wash away whatever pessimistic thoughts crawl back to taunt you. At least you can take comfort in seeing the Pro Hero visibly relax under your touch, tilting his head back as your fingers thoroughly massage his scalp.

You’re extra careful when washing his body. The scar on his back makes you pause before resuming your task, and while the blonde notices your hesitance, he doesn’t comment. It’s not the only mark on his body, but it’s certainly the largest. Maybe one day, you’ll come to pepper the area with kisses as you would with all the other scars that litter his body. For now, knowing how it ended up on him hits you with the anxieties of “what if.”

Having kept your hair up and out of the way, you cover yourself in a towel before assisting your boyfriend out of the shower. He wraps a towel around his hips and sighs a silent thank you before you take his hand and lead him to your bedroom. It’s all either of you say for a while, even while you dry his hair with him settled in front of you, between your thighs and facing away.

The hot water flushes his skin, a sight that helps you relax as you run a towel through his locks. You let it rest around his neck once you’re done, leaning forward to wrap your arms around his torso.

“Want me to make you something to eat?” you ask quietly. “You must be starving.”

“I’m okay,” he hums. Your fingers skate across the blonde’s abdomen, drawing random shapes and patterns and making him shiver. “I just want to stay like this for a bit longer.”

You shift your head to rest your chin on his shoulder, the fluffy material of the towel tickling your skin. “Then let me get you some clothes so you don’t catch a cold.”

The Pro Hero gently removes himself from your embrace, turning to face you. Your wrists remain in his grasp, and he brings them to his lips to kiss both of your palms.

“That won’t be necessary,” he mumbles against your skin, eyes fluttering closed. “Stay.”

His voice has a light rasp, and you’re sure you catch the subtle pleading in his tone. You sigh, sliding your hands to caress his face. Takami’s eyes open again, golden irises peering up at you as his brows furrow lightly. There’s a gentle tug to his hold, and you shift closer to him.

“So much for all that time to kill,” you try to quip, though you don’t find your tone convincing. For good measure, you trace his jaw with featherlight kisses. “Even with the Safety Commission out of the way, you can’t catch a break.”

He chuckles airily. “It was never going to be all that simple, dove. You and I both know that.”

You pout at his words. The pull of his grasp reappears, and you’re brought closer to your boyfriend until you’re almost sitting on his lap. One of his hands slides to your waist, encouraging you to do so. You obey, loosely wrapping your arms around his neck. Back when he had his wings, your fingertips would graze their base, earning you breathy moans from him. With them now gone, you settle for lightly scratching at his undercut.

“Must be exhausted with everything going on,” you whisper, the tip of your nose gently grazing against his.

“Coming home to you makes it all worth it,” Takami breathes before closing the gap. You both exhale into the kiss as you pull each other closer. Even with a towel in the way, he runs his hands up and down your torso, opting to feel you as much as possible. Once you’ve removed yourself from the embrace, he still attaches his lips to any exposed skin he can find.

“Keigo,” you whimper, trying to hold still as he nibbles on your neck. “Are you sure? You need rest.”

You feel the Pro Hero shake his head without pausing the assault on the skin. “I need you.”

Even before destruction fell upon the country, you’ve worried for Takami’s safety. With his wings, he could reach the clouds; any higher could take the oxygen out of his lungs. He’s capable, but also human: even the overly glorified ones have limits. And as much as you want him to be well, you miss him just as much.

You unlatch him from you without tugging too hard, and you’re met with glossy eyes and quivering lips. That desperation has been stuck in his tone and gaze since he returned home. Needing you close in any physical manner that’s given to him, his focus staying on you a little longer than what one may consider necessary. You remember when you’d beg him to stay in bed a bit longer before he went on patrol, putting on your best pout to convince him.

But now he's the one begging, pleading for your touch. And with the subtle poking of your thigh, you’re given more than enough convincing. Your lips return to mesh with his as you attempt to remove your towel with what little wiggle room you have. Takami takes this opportunity to let his hands roam your bare skin, tracing your curves and groping at any fat he can find while leaving a trail of goosebumps. The towel around his neck slides off, and you’d remove the last one if you could, but for now, you make the most of the situation by grinding into his lap, his bulge rubbing against your clit deliciously.

He’s restless; you noticed the signs before you found yourself on top of him. The Pro Hero moans into your mouth, his hands quick to grip your hips to drag them across his own. He pushes for a deeper kiss, if even possible, letting his tongue taste yours. You’re in desperate need of oxygen, and you’re sure he’s in the same state. When you pull away, he leans in to catch your lips once more.

“Let me take over,” you pant, resting your forehead against his. “Let me make you feel good.”

“No,” Takami groans lowly, eyes lidded and face flushed. “Need this. Need to do this for you.” He slowly flips you both from your current position so you lay on the mattress caged below his arms and legs. With a shadow looming over his handsome features, his eyes glow gold. “It’s selfish of me, I know, but I’ll take good care of you, too. Show you how much you mean to me.”

His words make your eyes soften, your arms wrapping around his neck again and pulling him close. Neither of your gazes leaves each other, not even as the towel ever so slowly loosens from his hips and cascades off his body. With your lips mere centimetres away, you’d have to give him credit for showing restraint thus far.

“You can never be selfish when you deserve the world,” you say before closing the distance. A growl escapes his throat; from your words or your taste, you aren’t sure, and you don’t care to figure it out. Not when he pulls away to trail messy open-mouthed kisses down your neck, stopping at your collarbone before latching on to one of your nipples. Your back arches into his touch, and his other hand tweaks at your neglected bud.

From your peripheral vision, you catch his shoulder blades twitch. You’d remember how his wings would ruffle when you two would make love, showing just as much vulnerability as the rest of him. The base of his crimson limbs was especially sensitive, and he’d let out the most beautiful sounds whenever they’d meet your touch. With them gone, the subtle movement is mere muscle memory. But when they jerk again once your fingers tug his somewhat-damp locks, you know better than to dismiss his body’s reactions.

Takami unlatches from your nipple to press his face between your breasts, inhaling deeply while his hand continues its treatment on the other bud. The sudden halt in his ministrations has you peering down at him, face warm while showing your confusion.

Still pressed against your chest, his gaze meets yours, eyes hooded and ravenous. “I can’t wait any longer.”

You exhale, trying your best to prevent your breathing from stammering. “Then don’t.”

Those two words were more than enough for the blonde, quickly propping himself up before pulling you closer to his body by your legs. The sudden shift makes you yelp, but Takami doesn’t say anything as he pumps his cock, using his precum as lube. His touches had you already dripping, and watching him stroke himself as he watches you with desperation and lust in his eyes only adds to the mess between your thighs.

Normally, he’d take his time with you. The Pro Hero, known for his speed when defeating villains, would throw all that out the window when you were in the picture, wanting to enjoy every second he has with you. This also applies to love-making, opting to prep you by treasuring your body and pleasure before the main event.

But with how he’s currently panting as he aims his cock at your entrance, his face and neck flushed, you’re more than content to indulge in his neediness.

His attempt at restraint is apparent as he takes his time sliding in. The tip makes you whine, and the blonde’s brows crease as he slowly adds another inch. His hold, now on your hips, is bruising, even as his thumbs would caress your skin. It makes you hiss, reaching up and making grabbing motions for him. Takami obeys, dropping to bury his head in the junction of your neck and inhaling your scent. A mistake: one where the consequences earn you a groan and the rest of his cock slammed inside your soaked pussy.

“Keigo!” you cry, pulling him closer.

Curses tumble from his lips. “‘M sorry, dove. I—oh, God…”

If being stuffed full without warning didn’t make you so delirious, you’d swear you heard him whimper. His calloused hands wander your body while his lips sprinkle kisses onto your shoulder: an apology, one you drunkenly accept as you try to adjust to the intrusion. A snug fit—it makes you wrap your legs around his hips. Your actions have the Pro Hero shifting to face you. He resembles a lost puppy, with his slightly-parted lips and wide eyes beneath furrowed brows of concern. You almost coo.

“Go ahead,” you whisper, fingers dancing across his undercut. “Use me.”

The expression he gives you before he reels his hips back is pleading and one of gratitude. You barely register it before he slams back into you and knocks the air out of your lungs.

Takami finds his pace in no time, pounding against you that the sound of skin slapping skin overpowers both of your heavy breathing. Every thrust has you squeezing around his shaft, and he rests his forehead against yours.

Everything is burning—the room, your mangled bodies, his breath fanning against your cheek. You’re boiling, your brain melting into a puddle of nothingness as your hands fly to his back, your nails planting into his shoulder blades. Your boyfriend’s eyes screw shut, a sharp grunt escaping him. You want to apologize; you should apologize, but you don’t realize your actions, and with his sudden angle shift, words fail you with every probe at your sweet spot. All you can give him is pathetic moans through a slack jaw.

His lips meet your swollen ones: you give him plenty.

“Keigo,” you manage to slur against his mouth. Takami bites your bottom lip, one of his hands reaching between your bodies to messily rub your puffy clit. You wail, and he pulls away from the assault on your lips.

“Open,” he heaves. Surprisingly, you not only understand but comply, letting your mouth fall open once more for his hungry gaze. Through glossy eyes, you barely see him puckering his lips and letting a blob of spit fall into your awaiting tongue. You squeak when it lands before you swallow the tiny puddle. His thrusts don’t falter throughout all of this, and his lewd act of possessiveness tips you over the edge, your weeping pussy creaming around his dick and leaving a gooey ring at its base. A sight you’d love to witness if your vision wasn’t currently white.

But Takami doesn’t stop. Not while you ride through your orgasm, not once you come down from it, and certainly not when you begin to cry from the overstimulation.

“Keigo!” you squeal, tightening your hold on his back. “Too much! ‘S too much!”

His speed has yet to falter, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. Not that your lover is any better, what with his vision gone hazy and grip tightening.

“Almost there, baby.” You can feel his warm breath fanning your face from his panting. “Just lemme—” His thrusts grow sloppier, jackhammering into your cunt like his life depends on it, all while whimpering “pleasepleasepleaseplease” on a loop. A particularly rough thrust has you wailing and your nails clawing down his back. Takami lets out a drawn-out groan. “Sh-Shit—”

The tiniest push and he’s hurtled over you, eyes screwed shut and jaw slack as his hips stutter. His face is flushed, close to rivalling the colour of his wings, and strands of his dishevelled hair clings to his forehead with sweat. Even with an unfocused gaze and a foggy brain, you can tell he’s as ethereal as ever as he fills you with hot ropes of cum.

You feel his muscles relax under your hold, and the Pro Hero exhales deeply before dropping on top of you. The sudden weight, while at first crushing, eventually feels like a weighted blanket, and you wrap your arms around your lover once more.

It isn’t until both your breathings are regulated do you speak, your words somewhat muffled against his skin. “You okay, pretty bird?”

Takami sighs, planting a kiss on your temple before pulling out. You shiver at the feeling of his cum leaking out; he notices, opting to caress your sides to calm you down. He can only offer a hum in confirmation at your question, the vibrations buzzing off his body and tickling yours.

When he gets off you, he also dismounts the bed, making his way to the full-length mirror in the corner of the room. It isn’t until he twists his body to have his back face it do you catch the red scratch marks on his shoulder blades, vibrant and right on top of his most recent battle scar. You gasp.

“I’m so sorry, Kei,” guilt is evident in your voice as you sit up on the bed, hugging the sheets. “I should have been more careful. Let me go get—”

A soft, airy chuckle interrupts your worrying. The blonde traces one of your marks, shifting his shoulder blades before fully facing you.

“It’s like they never left,” he rasps, lips twitching to form a sad smile. “Too bad I won’t be able to fly with them.”

Your brows knit together as you frown at his words, your eyes growing warm as they threaten to rain down tears. Your lover’s expression doesn’t budge as he approaches you, climbing the bed and finding his spot next to yours. He laughs dryly to himself, and it only dies down once you place your hand on his.

“Please, talk to me,” you whisper, leaning your head on his shoulder.

What remains of his front is cut off by a hiccup. It isn’t until you feel his body tremble do you peer at him to find streams of tears cascading down his rosy cheeks.

“Sometimes it feels like they’re still there,” he sobs silently, pausing to collect himself. You’re quick to pull him into your embrace, and he melts completely. “Even with the Commission out of the way, I still feel trapped.” He pulls back to look at you with pleading eyes. “I thought wings were a symbol of freedom. What happened?”

Hawks is gone, and before you is Keigo. A Pro Hero so young and forced onto such a high pedestal that one wrong step is a heavy drop. Without his wings, only you are there to catch him.

And with all the strength you can muster, you do so, carrying his weight in your arms as he falls apart, trembling and crying and heaving so hard you fear he’ll slip between your fingers into a pile of nothingness. For as long as you’ve known him, Takami has only ever born his soul to you like this fewer times than you can count on one hand. If he could save the lives of countless civilians (including your own), you figure that being his safety net is the least you can do.

A weak snicker escapes his lips, and you pull back to face him.

“Tokoyami’s been calling a bunch these past several days,” he drawls, his thumb mindlessly caressing your arm while staring past your shoulder. “Never answered him back, not even once. I should at least call the kid.”

Your boyfriend’s about to get up before you try to hold him in his spot without using too much force (not that you’d be able to stop him). His questioning gaze trails to you, and no matter how much you want to coddle him until he wants you gone, you keep your head up.

“Not now, honey,” You rest your forehead against his. “One step at a time. You can apologize tomorrow. I’m sure he’ll understand. He’s a smart kid.”

He sniffles, and you wipe a stray tear from his cheek. “You’re probably right.”

His breathing appears even, and the crying seems to have subsided, even if just for now. You offer a small smile.

“How about a meal?” you inquire, nudging your nose against his. “Whatever you want.”

The Pro Hero hums, tiredly copying your expression. “Can we just stay like this? Just for a bit longer?”

Your smile grows wider ever so slightly as you fall back onto the mattress, your hold on your lover bringing him down with you and having him land on your chest. Your gaze is soft when you peer down, and your fingers are back in his hair to comb out the mess you made. He sighs into your skin, burying himself there as his eyes flutter shut.

“We can stay like this as long as you want.” And you mean it. Even once his wings return, even once the people grow to trust him again, and even once heroes have time to kill. You would stay with him right here forever.

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