Gibson girl
Yandere!Keigo Takami x darling!reader
Content warning: YandereHawks, mentions of noncon acts, dubcon if you squint, spanking, flashback of force feeding, implied curent and past abuse, no use of y/n, Hawks calls you Dove, nickname use, Keigo dresses you, implied female reader, implied long hair, dark content, dead dove? Established relationship
Let me know if I need to add or change proper tags!
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Light poured into the room in soft, golden ribbons, catching on pristine white walls and the edges of the bamboo duvet. You blinked against the warm rays spilling across your face paired with the familiar weight of Keigo shifting behind you as he buried his face into the curve of your neck, inhaling deeply before letting out a low, sleepy groan. The vibration of his voice tickles your skin, making a tiny hum escape you despite yourself. The arm he had slung around your waist tightening as his hand settled on your breast.
“G'morning, Kei,” you whispered.
Turning in his arms to face him, golden eyes opened to meet yours, still filled with sleep. They always stole the air from your lungs. Whether it was fear or something else… you stopped trying to figure that out a long time ago.
The morning unfolded the way it always did. Keigo picks out your outfit himself, today’s choice: the pastel skirt he insists is your color, a soft off the shoulder sweater that matches the winter chill, thigh-high stockings he rolls up slowly with careful hands, and finally your hair… two small low ponytails, each tied with matching pastel ribbons. Today he allowed some dainty jewelry for accessories. A nice pair of earrings and a thin necklace with the letter “K” dangling from the petite chain that lays against the center of your chest.
“You look perfect,” he murmured, brushing your cheek with the back of his knuckles.
His large warm palm pressed against the small of your back as he guided you to the kitchen. Sitting you at the dining table before making his way towards the kitchen.
“I’m making french toast for breakfast today, Dove,” he called from over his shoulder as he crossed the threshold. "We've got guests coming over. You'll need your strength."
Funny, you thought, how far mornings with him had come. There had been a time, early on, where he forced food down your throat until you retched because you spit food at him after refusing to eat for days when you first got here. The memory of him pushing the mixture of fresh and regurgitated food right back down your throat until tears streamed down your face in broken sobs as his body weight pinned you down forcing you to take it. That version of him felt like a distant dream now. As you “adjusted” to this new life, his attitude has softened more.
Now, as long as you ate most of the food off your plate on a regular basis, he rarely pressured you. He only gave you the occasional look across the table, a reminder he was always watching.
"What's the matter, Dove? Still tired?"
Your body jolted. He was suddenly in front of you, golden eyes searching yours before he leaned down to place a kiss on your forehead. You hadn't even registered him cooking, or plating the food, let alone bringing it to you. Your mind had wandered too far again, you’d been doing that a lot recently. If Keigo notices he doesn’t say anything as he sets your plate in front of you. He slides his chair close, close enough that his thigh brushes yours as he begins cutting your food into small, neat bites. He brings the first forkful to your lips, humming in approval when you open your mouth without hesitation. The rest of your morning flies by in the mundane routine of things.
By mid afternoon, Keigo casually explained, almost cheerfully, that several pro heroes would be coming over for a small meeting and they'd be bringing their darlings along for ‘socialization’. He had added as if discussing pets or household decorations.
“Good for everyone to socialize,” he'd said lightly, brushing a thumb across your bottom lip.
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Three o'clock comes quickly.
The doorbell rings, and one by one, they begin to arrive.
First was Dynamight, hauling along a girl around your age. She had dark green hair and eyes. Her arms and collarbones were littered with dark, mottled bruises, some old and some new.
Then came Deku, guiding in a tall, willowy darling with short brown hair and brown eyes who looked like she'd been wrung out. She didn’t seem to have any marks on her, you silently noted.
Red Riot arrived next, a lanky young man with dirty blonde hair trailing behind him, his eyes hollow, cheek bones pronounced.
Shouto and Endeavor followed one after the other, each holding a leash connected to a pair of twins. They looked like snow, very delicate in contrast to the bruises that blemished across skin and busted lips.
All Might appeared last with the oldest darling of the group, who looked exhausted in a way that settled bone-deep with mirroring eyes like his own.
They all filed into the house quietly, shoulders tense, eyes darting. They all linger behind their captors heroes; silent, skittish, eyes wide as they take in the unfamiliar luxury while the heroes greeted one another with casual, friendly tones that felt so violently out of place considering their situation.
“Ah– apologies, where are my manners,” Keigo said smoothly, stepping toward the group. “Darlings, you can all gather over here.”
He guided everyone from the entrance near the living room toward the Den. You pulled yourself from peeking behind the doorway of the Den to bow, greeting the group Keigo led to your haven. Turning on your heel, you made your way to where you were seated before– on a cushion on the floor at the coffee table, where your coloring material was sprawled about. The room is large, warm, sunlit, and deceptively peaceful. Your pastel world is a small refuge infiltrated one by one, each darling sits around the table with quiet, practiced obedience.
“Now, Dove, don't be rude,” Keigo’s gentle voice cutting through the tense air. “I'm sure you can spare some books and crayons for everyone, hm?”
Your head snaps towards the sound of his voice, pulling you out of your watchful daze with a nod of agreement once your eyes meet his own and quickly rise once more– heading to your craft room to grab supplies. By the time you return with a stack of coloring books held against your chest, you hear voices drifting from the family room just across the way.
“Man, Hawks! how'd you manage to snatch a good one?”
“Any tips on breaking 'em in? We're still struggling.”
“I'll trade you, she looks like a sweetheart.”
You rounded the corner, cheeks warming in embarrassment, trying to hide behind the stack of coloring books. You catch Red Riot spotting you first. He coos under his breath, soft and pitying, as you shrink instinctively against the wall before you're locking eyes with Keigo's own. That's enough to make you move again
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Everyone settles into coloring, crayons scratching softly against paper is the only sound that echoes throughout the room. No one speaks or dares to breathe too loudly. Each darling individually hunched over their coloring book, shoulders drawn in. Some eyes flicking up at the door every few seconds before darting back down again. Some keep their gaze lasered to the pages in front of them. You noticed one of the twins hasn’t even touched the materials in front of her. You don’t comment but you can feel it. The way everyone is hyper aware of their own hands, their own materials, too aware that nothing in the immediate area could be misused the moment they stepped into this prison home.
One of the girls across from you clears her throat, Deku’s darling you think. She opens her mouth but hesitates. Her fingers curl into paper, then loosen. She swallows.
“Um…” Her voice barely carries. It’s small and meek. “Do you.. do you have any colored pencils?”
All crayons pause mid stroke. Someone’s breath catches. Another darling’s eyes squeeze shut, just for a second, like they already know the answer and wish she hadn’t asked.
You don’t look up. You already know why she’s asking. “Colored pencils aren’t allowed.”
No explanation follows. None is needed.
Understanding ripples through the circle in silence, heavy and immediate. The girl’s face drains of color as realization sets in, her shoulders dropping. Someone else nods once, almost imperceptibly. Dynamight’s darling clenches her jaw, lips pressing into a thin line. The implication passes between you all without being spoken. The girl murmurs a soft apology to no one in particular and goes back to her crayons, hands trembling just enough to make the wax smear outside the lines.
The door to the kitchen creaks faintly somewhere beyond the walls. Laughter, clinking glasses, the low murmur of heroes talking lively hums lightly through the rest of your home. The silence in your space continues, assuming that’s the end of small talk. It's Bakugo's darling who breaks it next, her voice sharp, whispered, urgent.
“We need to go.”
Your blood ran cold. Your heart stopped. No one moved and the air froze with you.
“They're all in the kitchen,” She continued, voice low and precise. She glanced at the wall toward the area of the kitchen. "They're all talking in the kitchen. They were still there when Bakugo let me out for a bathroom break and they haven't checked on us in over two hours since." She slides a paper toward the center of the table. “I remembered the streets he took on the way here.” She reveals more sketched routes. "We split up. Someone gets out. They can't catch us all."
She slid her papers across the table. a map. Not just a map but a rough layout of Keigo's house and the surrounding area, drawn in crayon.
Another sheet followed and on them, three possible escape routes.
“I made copies,” she said, still hushed. "If we don't all make it, at least one of us has a chance. They can't catch us all."
Your tongue turned to lead, ears ring, vision tunnels. The past slams into you like a wall of ice. Your mouth pooled with saliva at the onset of nausea.
The last time you stepped foot outside that godforsaken door…
You couldn't hear her anymore. Just the ringing in your skull. Your throat closes. Your mouth fills with cotton. Voices blur together as some of the other darlings whisper soft, shaky agreements.
What if it works? What if you get out?
But... Why.. leave?
Keigo loves you: He feeds you, fucks you, clothes you, gives you enrichment.
You don't have to worry about money, rent, or a silly career
But… you could be your own person..
What was that like again? You won’t survive out there
If you leave, he will catch you. You’ll go back to that room.
But if you do escape and the plan works? It's half baked at best but it's better than nothing…. Right?
Your thoughts swirl until they trip over themselves. Dynamight's darling is already standing, tiptoeing her way towards the door, slowly pulling it open, and something inside of you cracks.
“Yes. Please. Let's leave. Get out and never look back,” heavy on the tip of your tongue but the only words that come out are–
“Kei..go.”
The looks of horror that turn to meet your own as the door suddenly slams shut with a sickening crunch. Screams split the air. Red feathers exploded through the room like gunfire, pinning each darling to the areas where they sat.
You hear them, before you can see them.
“Took longer than I thought,” Kirishima says.
“Told ya they'd rally,” Bakugo snorts. “She never fucking learns.”
A chuckle from Midorya. "I'm offended, bunny. You tried to leave me?"
The heroes step into the Den with lazy, unsurprised expressions. Bakugo reached his darling first. She lay crumpled on the floor, screaming and clutching her broken fingers. He grabbed her by her hair and slammed her face into the hardwood below. The crack of bone made bile rise up your throat. She whimpered, choking on a mouthful of blood. She made a valiant attempt to crawl away before he grabbed her by the ankle and dragged her back to the front of the room.
“You never learn,” he growled, lifting her by the jaw with the toe of his boot before kicking her face down flat against the once polished floors. “Do you?”
Your vision blurred. Tears cling to your lashes as each violent blow of his fist and feet makes contact with her wet flesh. The sound makes your stomach churn with the threat of this morning's breakfast.
Keigo's breath ghosted over your ear. You hadn't noticed him moving behind you during the commotion. His golden eyes are soft, warm, pleased.
The moment your eyes lock, the tears spill instantly. You're hiccuping, collapsing into his chest. Spouting out broken apologies, frantic pleas, a desperate scramble of your hands as you climb onto his lap.
“I-I- I wasn't.. I n-never- I'm s-so- Keigo, please, I'm sorry, I'm so s-sorry–”
“I know, Dove,” he croons, stroking your hair. "I heard everything. You called for me. You were my good girl." But then his voice drops, like velvet over steel.
“But you still waited too long.”
He shushed you tenderly as he felt your body go rigid against his own. He continued stroking your back with his thumb, arms locked around you keeping you in place as you began to shake. "That doesn't mean you go unpunished. You waited too long." His fingers tightened against your waist slightly. “I almost thought you'd say yes.” Your body racked with a few sobs, struggling to keep them in as he continued to speak.
“This isn't about you being bad,” he soothed. “It's about setting an example.”
He uses a feather to drag a chair from the dining room table with the slow, deliberate scrape of wood against the flooring, abandoning you in favor of meeting his feather halfway, placing the chair at the front of the room. Right next to where Dynamight's darling lies crumpled, bleeding from the various orifices of her face, gagging on the thickness of her own spit and blood. Her breaths are wet and uneven, catching in her throat with each tiny movement. The moment your gazes meet as Keigo makes his way to the front of the room causes your stomach to twist and turns your knees to jello.
Keigo sits down gracefully, crossing one ankle over the other as if this were a casual meeting rather than routine punishment. Then he lifts one hand and crooks his finger twice.
Come here.
Your legs tremble so violently you're not sure how they're carrying you. The room feels unbearably silent except for the wet, choking gasps coming from the floor next to him. Every pair of eyes follows you as you move. Tears quietly slip down your cheeks before you can stop them, your throat tightening with the effort not to openly sob in front of everyone.
“Good girl,” Keigo murmurs when you reach him, a soft praise that makes the humiliation somehow sharper. Deeper.
He nods his chin toward the Den closet.
“Go pick one.”
Your heart officially stops.
Your punishment.
You give a small shake of your head once before you even realize you’re doing it. Your gaze stays lowered at first, lashes wet, chest tight as panic claws its way up your throat. When you finally look up at him, desperate to find anything in his heart that might give you mercy. You lift your hand so your fingers brush against his wrist. An attempt to plea with the version of him that strokes your hair and calls you Dove.
The contact lasts less than a heartbeat before his hand snaps out, smacking yours away with sharp finality. His gaze hardens, gold darkening into something cold. There’s no anger in it though, just control.
“Go,” he says quietly.
A pause. Deliberate.
“Pick.” Another beat, each second stretching unbearably thin.
“One.”
You wring your hands together to keep the trembling at bay as you turn toward the closet across the room. You walk like someone heading toward a firing squad. Movements slow, stiff, breath baited and shallow. Inside the closet hangs an assortment of belts, paddles, coiled leather, braided straps with metal rivets… each one holding its own memory. Each one a threat.
You stand there with your eyes squeezed shut for a moment, trying to internally quiet the storm of panic flaring behind your ribs. You know choosing “wrong” means choosing worse. But choosing too carefully means hesitating and that in itself is its own mistake.
When you open your eyes, the belts blur together in a smear of brown and black.
You reach forward blindly.
A soft ahem cuts through the room- sharp, pointed.
You don't need to turn around.
You don't need to see him.
You know exactly what expression Keigo wears: that patient, warning softness that stretches too thin. The look that means hurry up, Dove, before I decide for you.
You can’t stop the fear that streaks hot through your veins.
You grab the first belt your fingers touch without looking at it, snatching it down, and closing the closet hard enough so the latch clicks.
Your legs feel numb as you walk back to him, each step heavier than the last. Keigo watches you with that unreadable calm gaze, wings fanned lazily behind him.
When you finally reach his side, he takes the belt from your hand with a gentle hum, He sounds pleased, wings puffing out with pride.
“Good girl,” he repeats, but the warmth in his tone doesn't reach his eyes.
He pats his thigh.
“Over.”
You obey. You always do.
Keigo guides you over his knee with practiced ease, lifting the hem of your skirt in one fluid motion, baring you to the cool air and the even hotter, hungrier stares of pro heroes around the room. His fingers lightly graze against the fat of your ass, slowly trailing the tips of his fingers through your folds before pulling away. His hand presses firmly on your lower back as he stabilizes you over his knee. the perfect angle for impact for his demonstration. Your fingers curl into the fabric of his jeans as your eyes lock onto the bloodshot ones below you. The shine of her tears highlighting the fear in her eyes, You clock the way her gaze clings to yours behind Dynamight's black boots, she doesn’t look away. Neither do you as your breath stutters.
“You know the rules, Dove.” His voice is low, calm, almost affectionate. “Count for me.”
The belt whistles through the air–
SMACK.
A white hot bolt of pain blooms across your skin.
“O-one…”
“Again,” Keigo says softly, tapping your thigh with two fingers. “Louder.”
SMACK.
You swallow, breath shuddering.
“One! ”
SMACK.
Your hips jolt despite your grip on his slacks.
“Tw—o”
His hand tightens on your waist. "No. "
The belt cracks again without warning.
SMACK.
A strangled cry tears out of you. Your legs kick weakly, but he holds you down with effortless strength.
“Start over.”
The room feels too bright, too quiet. Even the heroes behind you have gone still, their darlings trembling in lined up silence, watching your punishment with wide, terrified eyes.
You try again. And again. And again. Every stutter, every faltering breath, every hitch in your voice sends you back to the beginning.
By the time you finally reach seven, your vision is a watery blur and your chest heaves with broken sobs.
By ten, your voice has cracked completely. Nothing but fiery and pain and the humiliating sound of you choking on your own tears with no end in sight.
You don't know how much time has passed by the time Keigo finally stops, when the belt finally falls from his hand. Your body feels boneless, your skin molten, your breath ragged and sticky with snot and tears. Droplets patter onto the hardwood below you.
The world tilts and suddenly Keigo is gathering you upright in his lap.
He cradles your limp frame gently, like you're made of precious glass. His wings fold around the two of you, a warm crimson cocoon of comfort blocking out the stares.
“There you go, Dove…” he murmurs into your hair, rocking you slowly. "So good for me. So perfect. My perfect girl."
You cling to his shirt with weak fingers, soft sobs wrack through you weakly taking the last of your strength. Keigo continued to hold you against his chest as he strokes your thighs with soft, soothing circles. It's dizzying how quickly the punishment gives way to comfort. How easily he shifts from cruel to tender. How easy you accept his softness.
Behind you, the heroes begin corralling their darlings into a tight kneeling line, each trembling, each pale as they witness the consequences. The hands pushing the back of their necks forced their bodies to give way and bow their heads toward you.
“Apologize,” All Might commanded.
They mumble it through their own tears;
“Sorry.”
“I'm sorry.”
“I didn't mean–”
“I'm so sorry…”
Not to their captors heroes. But to you.
Because their selfishness, their attempt to escape, had caused you to be punished. To be made an example of what a lenient punishment looks like for a good darling. Now how much more for disobedient brats who can’t seem to learn?
Keigo's fingers comb through your damp hair, pride radiating off him.
“That's right,” he purrs, loud enough for everyone to hear. "They hurt you, dove. They made you suffer. And they'll pay for it."
The surrounding heroes begin dragging their darlings away by wrists, by hair, by collars, toward whatever discipline waits for them in that room, Keigo has allowed them to use.
You don't watch. Keigo keeps your face buried in his shoulder, arms wrapped tight, as the room fills with frightened sobs and the sound of pleading and shuffling feet a faint blur in a sea of sounds.
Keigo lifted you effortlessly into his arms and carried you upstairs before the punishments began. He drew you an Epsom salt bath with lavender bubbles and scattered rose petals on the surface. He massaged lotion over your sore skin, whispering soft praises into your hair.
“My good girl,” he murmured against your lips in a tender kiss. “Always."
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Sorry if it sucks! I'm constantly writing down ideas and going back to edit my drafts over and over! Its not fully edited and I'd actually like to start a series stemming from this but idk! Figured I'd at least put it out for others to possibly enjoy from a fellow longtime lurker. May continue to come back and edit this when I have the time and energy, please let me know what you think! :)
