keigo who has you bent over his desk in his office whenever the two of you actually get some time alone from the outside world, whispering sweet nothings into your ear while he fucks you from behind.
as if the rest of his agency isn’t going on about their day on the other side of the door.
your head’s lolled forward, holding yourself up by your forearms while your boyfriend’s pounding into you.
“that’s a good girl.” he pants into your ear, planting a gentle kiss on your neck. “keiii,” you whine, hips moving back to meet his own.
his grip on your waist shifts slightly, a groan dropping from his lips. “easy, angel. don’t want the others to hear us, do you?”
you shake your head weakly. “more.” a plea, even if it’s futile. one of his feathers drop from his wings, gently brushing around your puffy clit.
“keigo!” you whimper, pussy clencing and fluttering around his shaft. he moans lowly under his breath, leaning down and gently biting along the base of your neck.
“you can take it,” he purrs. “doing such a good job f’me, pretty girl. fuck, take all of me.”
a hand comes up to grab your chin, tilting it towards him and meeting your lips messily in a makeout.
Keigo “Hawks” Takami pervert Headcanons that unfortunately got flagged on tiktok.. I never learn.
Hawks experiences intense seasonal heats that turn him into an absolute fiend for you. During these periods, his body temperature spikes, his wings fluff up involuntarily, and his cock stays half-hard constantly, leaking pre-cum at the mere thought of you.
He'll text you filthy messages about how he can smell your scent from across the city and how he's jerking off in a rooftop alley imagining burying his face between your thighs. He gets so desperate he starts stealing your worn panties from the laundry, wrapping them around his throbbing length while chirping your name under his breath, edging himself for hours until he finally explodes, fantasizing about knotting you deep and filling you until you're dripping with his cum.
Hawks loves to spy on you. Tiny cameras found under your door or near windows, giving him live footage of you changing, showering, or even masturbating He'll perch on a nearby building, hand down his pants, stroking slowly as he watches you touch yourself, whispering perverted praises like "That's it, baby, rub that pretty clit for me." If you moan his name, he loses it completely, coming untouched just from the sight and sound, then immediately plans how he'll tease you about it later without admitting he was watching.
He's addicted to your natural scent, your sweat after training, the musk between your legs, even the way your shampoo lingers on your pillow. He'll nuzzle into your neck or hair in public, inhaling deeply while his hand discreetly palms your ass, whispering how he wants to bury his tongue in your cunt and drown in your taste. At home, he rubs his face all over your body like a cat in heat, leaving hickeys and bite marks while grinding his erection against you, begging you to let him scent-mark you inside and out.
Hawks loves using his detachable feathers in the most annoying ways. During sex, he'll send soft ones to tease your nipples, and clit, He gets off on the control, making you squirm and beg while he watches with hooded golden eyes.
Hawks is a massive exhibitionist when it comes to you. He'll pull you into alleyways or behind buildings during patrols, hiking your skirt up and fingering you while covering your mouth with his hand "Quiet, dove. Don't want the civilians hearing how wet you are for me." During heats, this gets worse, he'll fuck you on rooftops with his wings shielding you partially, pounding into you from behind while the city lights twinkle below, growling about how he wants everyone to know you belong to him.
His instincts make him obsessed with breeding you. In heat, he can't stop talking about filling you with his kids. He'll pin you down in a mating press, cock buried as deep as possible, thrusting with animalistic desperation while murmuring, "Gonna stuff this pretty pussy full, make you swell with my babies." He cums in massive loads, pushing it back in with his fingers afterward to make sure it "takes," then cuddles you possessively with his wings wrapped around you both.
Hawks has a secret stash of your underwear, every pair he's stolen or "borrowed." He sniffs them during lonely nights on patrol, licking the crotch while jerking off furiously.
This man is a pussy and ass DEVOURER!!!! He'll spend hours between your legs, tongue fucking you relentlessly, sucking on your clit until you're shaking. During heats, he gets even greedier, eating you out like a starving man, his face glistening with your juices as he grinds his aching cock against the mattress.
He loves making you sit on his face, wings pinned beneath you, using his hands to spread you wider while he moans into your folds.
He loves teasing you mercilessly. Pretending to be the big bad hero who "captured" you, tying you up with his feathers while he slowly strips you and describes every filthy thing he's going to do. "Look at this needy little hole clenching for me. Been thinking about my cock all day, haven't you?" During heats, the teasing becomes torture, he'll edge you for hours with toys and his fingers before finally giving in.
Hawks marks you constantly, bites on your inner thighs, hickeys on your breasts, and bruises on your skin from gripping too hard.
After intense rounds during his heat, Hawks loves keeping his cock buried inside you for as long as possible. He’ll pull you into his lap during movie nights, sinking deep and staying there, occasionally thrusting lazily while his wings envelop you. "Just wanna feel you around me, baby. So warm and tight." He can stay like that for ages, getting hard again instantly if you clench.
Hawks wants you as his permanent mate. He fantasizes about building a nest with you, keeping you there during his heats where he can fuck you senseless multiple times a day. He's possessive but loving, always making sure you're satisfied.
He'll describe in graphic detail how your pussy feels gripping him, how he loves the sound of his balls slapping against you, how he's going to ruin you for anyone else. In heat, it's non-stop breeding talk mixed with praise. "Such a good little mate, taking my cock so well. Gonna flood this womb until it's overflowing."
After his heat breaks, he's still clingy and perverted. He'll insist on bathing together, washing you while sneaking touches that turn into another round. He loves watching his cum drip our of you, using his fingers to push it back in while kissing you lazily, murmuring how pertect you are for handling his nasty and filthy side.
Pairing: incubus!Gojo x pro hero!Hawks x succubus!reader
They always said not to play with your food. Too bad the food is so easily played.
Content Warnings: smut, MDNI/18+ only, fem!reader, porn with little plot, threesome, mind tricks, cowgirl, slight dacryphilia, whiny Gojo and Keigo, cervix fucking, creampie(s), mentions of past breeding/breed kink, so much oral (m! & f! receiving), bukkake, cum eating/swapping, making out, marking, anal fingering, alternating POV's, mostly Keigo's POV WC: 11.9k
My entry for @madamechrissy's JJK Crossover Event. Happy 2 years on Tumblr! 🤍 (Let's pretend like I'm not late) Gojo art by formerly @/sheng5381 on X (if you know the artist's current account pls lmk) & Hawks fanart by @/kanton811 on X. Banner by @cafekitsune
“You’re so sensitive today, Satoru,” you purr out at the man under you. Rolling your hips again, he bucks up into you once more. A little whine forces itself from the back of his throat as his hands dig deeper into your skin, dimpling it under the pressure.
“‘M not,” he mewls, blue eyes finding yours as he tries—and ultimately fails—to compose himself. There are tears in his eyes as his hips twitch underneath you as you lift yourself up once again, only to drop down, his tip smooching your cervix.
“Sure you’re not,” you coo. Your tail swishes behind you before the pointed end gently trails over his flushed skin—trailing up from his abs that tense up at the touch, all the way up to his nipples, circling them slightly.
Throwing his head back, a tear finally slips down the apple of his cheek. It glints in the light spilling into the bedroom, enunciating the pretty sight. “Stop teasing.”
“But you look soooo pretty like this.” You wipe the tear away with your thumb before sucking on the pad of your finger, forked tongue swirling around it—a sight he definitely doesn’t miss by the way his cock twitches inside of you, more pre spilling from his slit, clinging to your walls. “Imagine what the others would think, seeing you like this.”
Shaking his head, little strands of hair clinging to his forehead, Gojo just whines once more. Of course he wouldn’t want others to see, and you’re not going to show anyone else what’s yours anyway, but you can’t help but tease the man a little.
Ever since the two of you had gotten into a relationship, others of your kind shot the both of you looks—some dirty, other envious. Because who wouldn’t want to be with your boyfriend? Both men and women line up for him, offering their bodies up even though it doesn’t feed him.
It almost makes you laugh, thinking about how desperate others could get, saying they would be a better fit for him, telling him they would let him pursue anyone he wanted, as long as he came back to them at the end of the day.
Not that Satoru ever took the bait, though. No, he just stayed by your side, rejecting everyone left and right. Telling them he had already found his mate for life—a thing you normally wouldn’t hear out of an incubus’ mouth. But fuck, if it wasn’t the hottest thing you’ve heard in all of your living years.
You’d given him head until his balls were empty that night, swallowing every drop he gave you with a small thank you falling from your lips every time he came.
And that sight—the one of him cumming, groaning your name, blue eyes hazed over—was for you alone to enjoy. And the humans the two of you went after, but that’s a whole different thing.
This sight, the one of him tearing up—crying, even—and pre dribbling out of him like a broken faucet, however, is yours alone.
It’s not something that happens often. Hell, in your time together it has only happened twice. The first time more than a millennia ago, when the two of you were freshly dating and couldn’t keep your hands off each other. He was constantly over you, putting you in every position imaginable, pounding your poor cunt until the both of you were exhausted—and that was a feat in itself.
The second time was a few years ago, after he had somehow gotten baby fever—a demon, getting baby fever! Truly something unimaginable—proceeding to keep you locked in your room until you were filled to the brim, his cum spilling out of you even days later.
That was truly the first time you also got that sensitive. The both of you not having fed in weeks—yes, that little psycho kept you locked (and filled) in your shared bedroom for weeks on end—resulting in getting more sensitive.
And now here you two are again today, Satoru not having fed enough the last time. It’s not like you can blame him, you did have most of the fun with the human he had chosen for the two of you, while he was stuck fucking you for majority of the time.
While it was fun, these were the consequences of those actions—having him writhe beneath you as his poor overstimulated cock gets milked by your snug walls once again.
Warmth floods your cunt for the nth time that night, Gojo’s abs and balls contracting as he cums once more. His back arches from the bed, lifting you from the bed—along with his own hips—slightly.
That was another thing that was different between the two of you right now. Normally Gojo could easily overpower you, throwing you around like you were merely a rag-doll he was playing with (and you absolutely loved it when he did). But right now his energy was depleted enough that he had difficulty doing what he normally does.
“Love you, love you, love you,” he babbles. His blue eyes shining a little brighter when he looks at you with that half-lidded gaze of his. If he could, he would have hearts in his eyes right now.
Leaning forward, you press your lips to his, nipping at his bottom lip slightly, before snaking your tongue into his mouth. The kiss is more teeth and tongue than anything else.
When he finally comes down from his high, you lean back slightly. “Ready for one more?” you whisper, nail grazing his jaw slightly as you look down at your boyfriend. Nodding his head, you smile slightly before giving him a quick peck.
Planting your feet, you finally begin chasing your own high, hips lifting before dropping them down onto him again and again, tip hitting your cervix every time. A small ring of white begins to froth at the base of his length, visible every time you lift your hips.
Sweat is finally starting to bead down your own forehead, trailing down until it drips down your chin. It mixes with Gojo’s own sweat, his entire body glinting in the low light of the room, making him seem even prettier.
His white hair sticks up at odd angles where you ran your hands through earlier, and it makes him look all the more adorable.
“Found someone we can feed on,” you begin, hips never once stopping their motion. It takes a while before Satoru focuses on you again, blinking away the haze he was just in. “Yeah? She pretty?”
“He is very pretty. I think you’ll like him. And from what I could gather, I think he would also like you.” Another roll of your hips has his eyes roll to the back of his skull, a small moan falling from his lips as he starts fucking up into you, the blue end of his tail pressing down onto your clit, having you keen out.
“G-give me the details later, first gotta get you to cum again,” he grunts. His balls slap against your ass as you lean forward with a slight squeal, hands planted on his chest.
He applies more pressure to your clit. At the same time he wraps his lips around one of your nipples, sucking and twirling his tongue around the sensitive peak. “Cum with me, my love. Please. Please?”
“Yes, yes, I will, baby.”
And you do, coming undone at the same time as him. His warm seed fills you to the womb, the feeling never failing to make you feel good. Your snug walls contract around him, milking him for everything he’s worth as you shudder on top of him, tail moving wildly behind you.
As the two of you come down from your high, you finally lift yourself off him. His cum bubbles out of you, dripping onto his abs as you maneuver yourself off him.
“So… what was this about that ‘pretty’ human of yours?”
If he gets called out of bed one more time, he swears he’s going to snap. His wing joints ache, back muscles burning from all the flying he’s been doing, and the eyebags are getting harder and harder to hide by the day.
The HPSC has been calling him non-stop since the last mission. All the calls are for minor inconveniences, but considering there has been an uprise of criminal activity lately, they can’t be too careful.
It’s not like he doesn’t get it, trust me, he does. But it still annoys him to no end that it’s just him, and not anyone else that’s getting called out of bed only forty minutes after laying down for some rest—he can’t even call it sleep with the hours he’s getting.
And fuck, if it isn’t starting to take a toll on him—both physically as emotionally.
His feathers are all crooked and bent, stress keeping him from quickly regrow his feathers. Hell, he hasn’t even gotten the time to properly preen them lately. And that certainly didn’t go unnoticed by the public.
If he has to believe the headlines, people are starting to wonder if he can even keep up the hero life he has chosen for himself. Only, he didn’t choose it for himself, the Hero Commission did. Picking him from the literal streets at six years old, promising his mother that he would be in good hands in exchange for some money and a roof above her head.
Well, he can’t really blame her for accepting the deal. She was trying to survive after all. But some part, deep down in his heart, he sometimes wonders if she couldn’t have tried a little harder.
Still, he can’t blame her. Not for selling him off, not for not protecting him from his father—hell, not even for staying with him for as long as she did. She covered for his crime, after all. The two of them were felons.
And to make matters worse, he has lost the last thing he had of her; the Endeavor plushy she bought him when he was younger.
It was a small thing, something he could clutch to his chest at night as his father would drunkenly yell and smash things downstairs. But it was at least something he had, a small beacon of hope, of proof that his mother, despite not outwardly showing it much, did love him.
Of course the little plush also held symbolic power to it. Endeavor was the one who arrested his father, got him out of the hell-hole that was home. Or well… it was supposed to be called home, but he never felt like it was one.
The feathers on his back twitch yet again. They’re all irritating the wing bone, heavy on his back as he drags himself to bed once more. Hopefully this time he could get at least three hours of sleep in before he had to start patrol again.
Wishful thinking.
Dropping his visor on his nightstand, he toes off his uniform boots before face planting onto bed, not bothering to even get under the duvet.
He’ll take a quick shower in the morning—or the dead of night, considering how you look at it. That’s the last thing he thinks about before sleep takes him under. Blond eyelashes fluttering shut as he fully relaxes the crimson feathers along his back.
“You look tired, pretty bird.” a soft voice from behind him speaks out, catching his attention. Turning around, he looks at the girl that’s standing in his living room. It’s not someone he’s familiar with—fortunately, or unfortunately for him, he remembers most if not every criminal face.
Letting his shoulders sag, he drops down onto the couch. The cushion sags a bit beneath his weight, and it almost feels unreal.
He looks at the girl once more. She takes a few tentative steps toward him, before stopping just shy of the edge of the couch. She’s… pretty, he supposes. A certain allure you don’t just find in anyone else. He thinks Uwabami would be very happy to model a few shoots with her. Or maybe Mt. Lady would be jealous if she were a hero.
That thought almost makes him chuckle. The rookie hero, recently debuted, immediately caught the attention of the cameras. Some say her heroic actions made her debut so attention-worthy (of which Hawks is pretty sure was actually Kamui Wood’s arrest), while others say it’s because she’s pretty,
Just like the girl that’s standing in front of him. She tilts her head to the side, hair swaying with the motion, as she fiddles with her thumbs a little. “Have you eaten today?”
Her voice is sweet, drifting through the air like the smell of chicken—something that catches his attention completely.
Hawks hums a little, letting his head fall back onto the couch. A golden curl bounces off his forehead, nearly poking him in the eye. He should probably get a haircut soon— not that he has the time for any of that, though.
“I’ve had a chicken sandwich,” he replies. Voice a little lower than normal, a small rumble from the back of his throat that he would never let the public hear. Tired. Even from his words he sounds tired. But he can’t keep pretending like everything is fine.
There’s a vague recognition in the back of his mind where he realises he’s asleep. One of those dreams that feel like he isn’t really dreaming, aware of everything that’s going on around him. He can even move his own arms, look around the room, as if he were awake.
Letting his head loll to the side, he eyes the girl. She’s frowning now, a small pout forming as she slowly sits down on the couch beside him—too close for his liking, but not close enough for him to actually voice it.
If he were awake, he would retract his wings, make sure no one would be able to touch his oh-so sensitive feathers. The red little plumes look sad, even from his own view. Dull where they once were glossy. Brittle and dirty. Yeah, he really should take a shower to scrub his feathers clean.
“You can’t keep going like this.” That makes him snap his attention back to her, eyes finding her form immediately. And it’s not like she’s lying, he can’t keep going like this. The amount of caffeine he consumes just to stay awake has been through the roof lately—which says a lot considering he normally already chugs coffees back like they’re energy drinks.
It’s almost like his subconscious has made a human just to tell him he’s slowly starting to kill himself with his sleep and work-schedule.
“I made a promise to keep people safe,” he says, not fully knowing if he’s trying to convince himself or her. But from the way her eyes soften, it is working, even if slightly. “But you also need to keep yourself safe. You almost flew into a building today,” she whispers back.
He almost cringes at the thought. Because, yeah, he did almost do that. His eyes having fluttered shut for just a second—a second too long, because by the time he opened the again, his nose nearly kissed the glass of one of the high-rises.
It’s not like he’s never flown into a building before. He has, just not in his adult years. Back when he was a little kid and was still learning how to fly under the watchful gaze of his handler, he had flown into many obstacles.
They weren’t all too happy to see the little control he had whilst flying. But over time it luckily had gotten better, veering right before banking straight down. His control nowadays was immaculate, being able to dodge buildings at speeds of hundreds of kilometers an hour.
Which is why it made it all the more embarrassing to almost fly head-first into a building. A building where people resided no less.
Would you imagine that. The number Two hero flying straight through your window and crashing into your living room, just because he’s so tired. Fuck, the headlines would have a field day if that ever were to happen to him.
“Temporary lapse of judgment,” he mumbles, too tired to clearly form a counter argument against the girl. Or rather his subconscious mind? Whatever, he doesn’t want to think about that for too long, he’s supposed to be asleep, and by the way this dream is going, he doubts he’ll feel rested when he has to wake up again. “Won’t happen again.”
“It better not, birdie. I need you alive and well,” she whispers back, letting herself relax a little more into the couch. From the corner of his eye, he can see the way she is careful not to brush against any of his wings, staying clear of the odd feathers that are sticking out.
Alive and well. The first one he can do, though not guarantee with his job. The second one, however, is much harder. He hasn’t been well in a long time if he were to be honest. Not that he would ever voice that out loud, though. He’s a hero, the Number Two Hero, the HPSC’s perfect weapon. No one is supposed to know that he isn’t doing well.
Before he can think further about it, movement from the corner of his eye catches his attention. The girl has leaned forward, more into his space now. She’s still careful not to sit on any feathers, or even brush against them with her leg. But her hand is hovering in front of his face now.
The crimson plumes along his back sharpen the moment he sees how close she is to touching him. Her hand immediately stops, eyes tracking the way the once-soft feathers are now as sharp as knives.
“You- I-” her fingers twitch where they’re in front of his face. Swallowing, she finally moves her arm again in a slow, careful movement. Her thumb brushes his forehead slightly, before it presses down between his eyebrows. “Just relax a little,” she murmurs, smoothing over the pinch between his brows he didn’t even know was there.
Once Hawks realises there is no threat, he forces his feathers to go back into their resting state. From sharp to soft, brushing against the couch.
He does as she says—letting himself fully relax. Something he hasn’t done in ages, evident by the frown lines between his brows and the strain in his muscles.
The touch is soft, soothing. There are no words spoken anymore, just a thumb that rubs relaxing circles into his skin. It makes him close his eyes, letting himself get lost in the soft touch he hasn’t felt in… maybe ever.
That isn’t something he wishes to think about, though. Right now he just wants to let himself feel this, not think about anything—the HPSC, villains, civilians, weird billboard rankings, the way he must look to her.
“Go to sleep, birdbrain. We’ll meet again soon,” she whispers into his ear, just before a feather-soft kiss is placed upon his forehead.
This time, when he opens his eyes again, he’s met with his ceiling. No longer sitting on the couch, but rather laying on the bed—where he fell asleep. Because it was a dream. Just a dream, nothing more, nothing less.
Looking over at his bedside table, he sees the glaring red numbers of his alarm clock blink back at him. 3:57 AM. An hour before he was supposed to wake up for patrol. Which also means he still has an hour of sleep left.
But his brain is running hundreds of miles an hour, thinking about the pretty girl of his dreams. It was… unusual. Normally he doesn’t even dream about things at all; going to sleep and waking up straight away, or well… what feels like straight away anyway.
Running a hand through his wind-tousled locks, he groans. He knows he should get some more sleep, but he also knows that he can’t go out looking like this. So with much reluctance, he pushes himself from the bed and goes to his bathroom to finally scrub himself clean.
If he can’t sleep, the least he can do is make himself look like the presentable hero he has to be.
Not that it matters much, grime and blood cover him at the end of the day once again. It had been a long day, fighting crime and keeping civilians safe.
The HPSC is right to send him out all the time. Crime rates haven’t been this high in forever, but he can’t help but wonder if there’s anything more to it. Not that he has time to wonder. Taking a quick shower, he almost falls asleep under the spray of warm water, relaxing his over-used muscles just slightly.
When was the last time he was this tired?
Gosh, it must’ve been ages ago, when he was just a little boy. The HPSC has trained him for as long as he can remember, but never once did he feel like this—like he would keen over if someone so much as blew on him. Like a little feather in the wind.
Collapsing onto the bed, he lets himself stare up at the ceiling for a little while. The day was long, having saved loads of people, using a lot of his feathers in the process. His wings are starting to look a little bare, some gaps visible.
But fuck, if it doesn’t make him feel good. He signed up for this. Signed up to be the protector of those who can’t protect themselves—whether legally or just because they can’t in general, just like he couldn’t all those years ago.
Closing his eyes, he lets himself relax, body moulding to the bed. Wings finally relaxing a little, their weight no longer dragging on his back as he’s laid down.
It’s only when he tries to empty his mind that he gets reminded of last night. Or well, of his dream. The one where that pretty lady visited him. That is if she’s real, and not something his mind completely made up to warn him that he’s slowly killing himself with the way he’s going right now.
He’s seen it before, of course. Hero’s who burn out, both rookie as veteran heroes who try to take on too much work. Destroying their minds and body at the same time, not taking enough breaks.
Fuck, when’s the last time he’s had a break? Two, three months ago?
That seems about right.
Food is another thing. With the constant quirk usage, he should be eating more—way more. The constant use of his wings and feathers means he burns a lot of calories. The intake, however, isn’t something he’s proud of.
Earlier in the shower he noticed how lean he’s starting to look. Sure, he’s always been on the leaner side compared to some of the other heroes—he needs to be, otherwise he can’t comfortably fly anymore—but he was never this lean.
It’s also noticeable that he can’t comfortably get to the speeds he once could. Flying at three hundred kilometers an hour should be easily doable for him—hell, he’s hit eight-hundred before, though that wasn’t in a city, but rather when flying to the other side of the country. But he just… has to exert more energy to hit his normal speed.
For a moment he wonders how long it’s going to take the HPSC to notice it. Notice the fact that their perfect weapon is slowly starting to fall apart right in front of their noses. Notice that their constant demands are starting to eat away at him.
Then again, they would do anything to use him. And he gets it. He’s been trained for this after all, but that doesn’t make it any easier.
Yes, he wants to help people. Yes, he would do anything to protect them. But then he thinks back on last night, on how that girl was telling him he should take better care of himself. At least eat a little more.
Will she be there again tonight? Stand in the same room as him, looking him over, assessing his state. Would she notice that he looks cleaner now, more presentable—more hero-like. Or would he not dream of her again.
The only way to find out is fall asleep. And even though he would love to, he just can’t shut his mind off. It’s racing at a hundred miles an hour, thinking back on villains and the information they all accidentally dropped without even realising.
Is there a connection between them? A small group of villains acting, or is it just individual people who think they can get away with it—as if they can outrun him, the fastest hero in all of Japan.
Stupid, honestly.
By the time he finally falls asleep, it’s almost a whole hour later. His eyes slipping shut as he was still thinking about everything that has happened over the past few weeks.
“I thought you were gonna skip out on me.” Is the first thing he’s greeted with when he opens his eyes again, this time still in his bed. It makes him freak out a little, because is she really in his bedroom, or is this a dream again?
Turning his head, he can see her sit on the floor at the end of the bed, head propped up on her fist as she cocks her head to the side. Hair cascading down her face, making a makeshift curtain. The moonlight from outside slipping in, illuminating her figure.
For a second, just one, he swears there’s something waving behind her—almost tail-like. Thin and black. But it’s gone as soon as he saw it.
She grins when his eyes find hers again. Blinking a few times, he sits upright. “You were waiting for me?”
“Of course I was. I told you I would, didn’t I?” She easily replies, a little teasing lilt to her voice. Her eyes crinkle as she grins a little wider, almost as if he said something funny.
And it’s true, she did say that she would meet him again soon, but he didn’t realise soon meant the literal next day. “Soon isn’t the same as ‘tomorrow’”
There’s a glint of amusement in her eyes now. Something so different from yesterday, he has to blink a few times to really see if this is the same person.
Her eyes rake down his body, stopping slightly at his bare waist. Her tongue darts out to wet her lower lip, before she looks back up at him again. “Did’ya eat today?”
Ah, there it is again. That concern she had for him yesterday. The grin gone, replaced with a slight frown as she sits upright—still at the end of the bed. Not sitting next to him this time.
“Had a few chicken skewers from a little vendor down,” he admits, rubbing his nape as he looks away. There’s something about her gaze that makes him a little nervous. Him, Hawks, the one who eyes people like they’re mere prey, feeling nervous from a pretty girl just looking at him as if he doesn’t have a whole fan base that thirsts after him.
Her eyebrows twitch a little at the confession, not a full scowl, but clearly not fully happy, either. “That’s the only thing you ate the entire day?”
Hawks has to look away for a second, suddenly feeling much more conscience about the fact that he hasn’t been eating much, especially lately. Yes, his days are hectic, but some proper nutritions should be the least he gets in a day. “Mhmm.”
“I thought I told you to eat more. Need you alive and well and all that.” She pouts, lower lip pushing out as she finally goes to sit on the bed, still not next to him, but at least a little closer than she was before. “At least you cleaned up a little.”
She’s referring to his wings, no longer dirty but rather a pretty, shiny red. Sure, they’re a bit dirty from the fact that he’s been flying around all day, fighting crime and all that, but it isn’t nearly as bad as it was yesterday.
“Mhmm, found some time before patrol to clean them,” he mumbles back, watching the way her fingers are twitching beside her, almost as if she wants to reach out to touch one. Still, she doesn’t. Fingers staying clear of the red plumes, just like yesterday.
“Good, that’s good. Mean you’re at least taking a bit more care of yourself.” She nods to herself, hair swaying with the motion as she finally looks up at him with a small smile. “Now you just have to get more sleep and eat more.”
It’s not so much a statement as it is a request. Almost like she’s trying to force him to eat and sleep more. Well, she did tell him that he couldn’t continue living like this, and that part is true.
The fact that the HPSC doesn’t even see it is quite alarming to be completely honest. But he’d rather be the one they call on—despite the fact that he wants to snap whenever they do call him out of bed—than that they try to raise some just like him.
He knows what it’s like to be raised between those walls, and he wouldn’t want to wish that upon anyone. So he has to endure this.
But maybe, just maybe, there is a solution to his problems. He isn’t sure what, but he’s going to figure it out. And he voices as much out loud. “I’ll figure something out.”
He isn’t sure if it’s to assure the girl that’s sitting on the bed with him, or himself. Not that it matters much, he knows she’s right. He should eat more. His back absolutely burning from all the flying he’s been doing lately.
“Good, because you’re way too young to burn out like this. Now go to sleep, you clearly need it.”
And he does, closing his eyes again, this time no pretty girl sitting next to him on the bed, but just a static black feed behind his eyes all the way until he wakes up.
The next few weeks continue like that—falling asleep and finding her sitting next to him. And each and every time she comes a little closer to him, getting out of her shell a little bit. Telling him about herself, sitting closer to him.
Of course he can’t forget the most important thing of all—she told him her name. A name he wasn’t familiar with, but sounded so pretty when she said it.
She still asks him if he’s eaten, and much to his credit, he has been eating more again lately. Something that’s definitely noticeable by the way he’s bulking up a little—not getting fat, but actually gaining back some of his muscles that he lost over the past few months.
She’d smiled when she saw the difference, though it was still a work in progress, it was at least something.
The eyebags under his eyes also definitely lessened. Getting more rest—not more hours of sleep, but just rest in general—than he ever has. No longer having to use a tube of concealer a week just to keep the bags away from the people.
They would probably be so worried when they saw the state he was in when he left the house. But with the constant reminder from the pretty lady in his dreams, he ate and slept more. Getting healthier by the day, even if the HPSC was still on his ass.
It’s not like crime had stopped in the meantime, petty criminals and actual drug rings popping up left and right. But with some of his strength being restored, those also got handled much quicker than before—something that definitely showed in his rating.
Not that he looks much at those ratings, knowing that the HPSC is skewing the percentages behind the scenes a lot. He’s good, he knows he’s good, but he isn’t number two good if he would look at the actual numbers.
Oh well, not something he really minds.
All he really cares about is you—the pretty lady in his dreams that tells him he’s doing so good lately. Telling him that he looks good, and not just in the way that his fans tell him he looks good; no, she means that he looks healthy again.
Fuck, the way you were running your hands through his shorter hair—because yes, he finally got that haircut as well—telling him you were so proud of him for doing good, almost has his feathers fucking tremble.
Without realising it, he has started to look forward to get into bed—to see you. Wishing the day would fly by faster so he could just close his eyes and see your beautiful figure standing in the same room as him.
The problem is that others have started to notice as well. Not his fans or the press necessarily, but rather his handler from the HPSC. They came up to him earlier today, asking him if he had someone waiting for him at home.
Technically he doesn’t, but the fact that they could even notice that he was more eager to return home after a long day of work is a problem. (How they can see that, but not see that they’re working him to the point of almost falling asleep whilst still flying astounds him.)
Getting cornered like that really didn’t sit right with him. His wings almost puffing up in defense, before he controlled them enough to not be noticeable.
Those same feathers your fingers ran through just last night, his brain working overtime as you oh-so gently ran your fingers along his wing bone, down his big, soft primaries. It almost makes him hard yet again.
But how would he tell his handlers that he technically doesn’t have someone waiting at home for him, but rather in his dreams.
Fuck, they would call him delusional, run scans on him to see if it’s someone’s quirk affecting him—as if he hasn’t tried to research that himself. Spending nights to see if there was any entry of your name in the system with a matching description, only to come up empty.
His not-so-real girlfriend turned real inside of his dreams.
Maybe they would give him some days off, saying he’s hallucinating or something like that. But he knows somewhere deep inside his brain that you are real, just not in the world where he’s awake.
Quite frankly, he doesn’t really care about the logistics anymore. Not after that one night where you ran him a bath and carefully preened his crooked feathers, massaging the knots out of his back from the long hours of flight he has been doing.
To trust someone like that—the President would have his head if she ever found out he’s been getting ‘lax’, even in his dreams.
For just once in his life, he wants to have something of his own, even if there is a possibility that all of this is fake—his mind making up things as he’s asleep; something he wants but can’t have in the real world.
Still, he knows that he’s fucked. …Just not fucked enough to not almost pounce onto the bed, pulling his blanket over him and fall asleep almost immediately.
He’s expecting to hear your voice, that pretty lilt in your voice as you tell him he did good today—having eaten much more than the first time the two of you met a few weeks ago, keeping himself clean, and actually getting a nap in during his supposed patrol (don’t tell the President that, though).
Instead, he’s greeted by a mop of white hair. A mop of white hair that belongs to a guy—not you—with the prettiest blue eyes he’s ever seen. If he had to even try to compare them, he thinks Endeavor’s eye colour would come closest to it—and even then, it’s not even close.
Still, he wasn’t expecting this. The fact that there’s a man in the living room with him, instead of his the pretty girlfriend.
Looks like the stranger notices, tilting his head to the side, bangs brushing his forehead with the motion. “Expecting someone else?”
That… is not what Hawks thought would come out of the guy’s mouth. Is this his subconscious trying to fuck with him once again? Could you not make it, and did his brain know, trying to make up for the fact that you’re not here.
Without even realising it, a small pout forms on his face. Thinking about how, after a long day of work, all he could think about was to pull your body against his, hold you close as you ramble about your day instead.
Now he can’t even do that, considering you’re not even here.
“Don’t look so sad. You have me here now,” the white-haired guy speaks up once again, trying to gain Keigo’s attention.
The hero looks over to where the guy is perched on the couch—much too close for his liking, but juuust far away enough that he doesn’t have to calm his feathers down. “You’re not her.”
That makes the guy smile, a certain glint of amusement passing through his eyes as he looks over the crimson-winged hero. “Astute observation. Though, I can take care of you, too, y’know.” There’s a slight pause before the white-haired guy adds: “In whatever way you want.”
The smug cadence in the guy’s voice makes Hawks stop for a second. Sure, he’s thought about wanting to kiss you and definitely more than just kiss you, but never did he think about actually doing those things. When he still doesn’t answer, the white-haired guy tries again.
“Look, if you wanted her here so bad, then why am I the one that’s here instead? This is your dream, so clearly you wanted me to be here.”
Right, because whatever way he looks at it, Keigo is still asleep. Not actually meeting up with a girl he likes. It’s just him, lucid dreaming about a girl his mind made up and do stuff with. And now apparently there is a guy in his dreams. A very handsome guy.
It’s not that Keigo doesn’t have eyes! The guy in front of him is objectively fucking attractive, but he still can’t help but feel disappointed that you’re not here with him.
“Just let me rest for the night,” he manages to mumble out, golden eyes slipping close already as he relaxes himself on the couch, wings actually tucked in for the first time in forever when he’s asleep.
Much to his surprise, the white-haired guy doesn’t actually say anything further, just lets out a little hum, but actually does let him sleep. Not disturbing him—though very clearly eyeing him with those pretty blue eyes of his, considering Keigo can almost feel them on his skin—until his alarm goes off.
The rest of the day has him feeling rather odd. His mind not completely in the game when he has to catch more villains—of course he still gets his job done, he is Hawks, the Number Two hero after all. But it isn’t quite as smooth as normal.
His mind still back at the pretty guy who showed up in his dreams instead of you. But then again, the guy did have a point about it being his dream, so somewhere in the back of that stupid brain of his, he conjured up that tall, handsome man.
Would you be there tonight, or is it the same guy again?
Well, he doesn’t have to wait long for that answer; going to sleep and opening his eyes to see bright blue eyes staring back at him, a small smirk tugging on the guy’s face. It has Keigo groan out, having hoped to spend some time with you again.
“Oh come onnn,” the guy whines, moving closer to where the hero is sat. “What’s so bad about me, hmmm? Is it because I’m a guy?”
“I just wanna see my girlfriend,” the words slip out before he even realises it. It’s not like you’re his girlfriend, but this guy doesn’t have to know that. Plus, this is inside of his damn mind! He can say whatever he wants to.
Seems like that was the wrong thing to say, though. The white-haired guy tilts his head, blue eyes blinking down at him as he grins. “I can be your boyfriend in the meanwhile.”
That’s how this weird dynamic begins. Keigo doesn’t really trust Gojo—as he said his name was—the same way he trusts you, but much to the guy’s credit, he does actually do a decent job at filling the gaps where you normally were.
Gojo asks him about his days, if he’d eaten today, all while playing with Keigo’s hair or sometimes massaging his shoulders—all things you also do.
So when days blur into weeks, and the blond hasn’t seen you ever since Gojo showed up, he doesn’t think much of it. Feeling more and more relaxed with the tall man around. But then there you are again, sitting on the couch with a pretty smile on your face like you haven’t been gone for weeks.
It makes his mind buffer for a little while, this time having expected Gojo here instead of you. Which is quite ironic when you think about it, considering he didn’t want anything to do with the white-haired guy before, and now he’s almost expecting him to be here.
But it doesn’t matter much, not when you coo at how pretty he looks added with a small kiss on his cheek.. Ushering him to the couch to ask him about his day.
So sometimes you’re there in his dreams, and other times it’s Gojo. He never knows when his mind decides to set him up with you or Gojo, but it doesn’t matter all that much to him anymore. All he knows is that he can feel comfortable around the two of you, no matter which one it is.
“Poor thing, losing most of your feathers in battle like that,” he hears you purr from behind him. Delicate fingers tracing over his lower back as you walk in front of him, staring at his face. Cupping his cheek, he lets himself bask in the warmth for a little, not sure when the next time ’s gonna be he sees you again.
But it isn’t until he feels another hand—bigger, a bit more rough—splayed along his back that he realises it isn’t just you in the room with him. He distantly recognizes the fact that you’re letting go of his face, but all he can think about is how a white mop of hair and blue eyes are looking at him.
It makes his mind buffer a little, having both his boy- and girlfriend in the room (he has long since disregarded anything that makes sense, in his mind the two of you are? Were? The same entity, something his mind conjured up because he’s so fucking lonely. But there was also something real about it.)
Not that it matters much when Gojo pushes out that plump bottom-lip of his, already glinting with some saliva. The thing looking almost kiss-bitten already, red where they’re normally a lighter shade of pink. “What happened to your wings, pretty boy?”
Hawks opens his mouth a few times, wanting to tell the two of you what exactly happened, but his mind is still buffering from the fact that you’re both here—at the same time.
“I just- battle gone wrong. What… what’s happening?” He breathes out, confused. Golden eyes tracking the way Gojo now is also standing in front of him. But instead of those pretty blue eyes looking at his own golden ones, they’re completely focused on you.
You, who smile up at the white-haired man. A smile so devious, Keigo isn’t sure he’s ever seen it before—it was much more in character for Gojo to smile at him like that, not you. Especially when you’re looking at someone who’s supposed to be a stranger, or that’s what Keigo thought anyway. But from the way you two are looking at each other, it certainly does look like you two have known each other for a while.
And as if he wasn’t confused enough already, Gojo surges forward, crashing his lips upon yours. There is no sweetness in it, not the way he has kissed him before, with those tender kisses being placed upon Keigo’s scarred, suntanned skin. No, this is all heat and passion—teeth and tongue.
Your hands move to Gojo’s hair, tugging on it so harshly, it gains a groan from the white-haired man. That same groan that does something to Keigo he isn’t sure how to admit.
Gojo pulls your body further against his, chest to chest, him having to bend down a bit to fully reach you as your tongues clash. And all Keigo can do is watch the two of you just blatantly make out in front of him.
That should be him …right? So why does he feel so turned on when watching his whatever-the-fuck the two of you were of his, make out with each other?
A low, needy noise escapes his lips without even realising it. But it seems like, despite being so preoccupied, both you and Gojo could hear it loud and clear. Disconnecting your lips from one another, a thin string of saliva connects the two of you. It glistens in the low bedroom light, gaining Keigo’s full attention before it snaps.
Your eyes are half-lidded as you look at the hero, chest heaving up and down with each ragged breath you take. Your hands slooowly sliding from Gojo’s hair to his chest. “I think someone wants in on the kiss,” you comment to Gojo before cocking your head to the side. “Don’t you, baby?”
Keigo can only stand there, hands clenching and unclenching as his heart beats against his chest. A small nod is all it takes for the two of you to move.
Gojo moves to his back, one big hand gripping his waist as the other perches on his hip. They move up and down slightly as you position yourself in front of the blond. One hand trails from his chest all the way up to his jaw. Your fingers leaving behind a trail of goosebumps on his scarred skin. “Need you to use your words for me.”
“Yes please, wanna kiss you.” Keigo swallows, blown-out pupils looking you over as you smile up at him. “Attaboy,” you whisper, before your lips meet to move his.
It isn’t as rough as the kiss between you and Gojo, not with the way you’re trying to coax his lips open with your tongue. Nor with the way you keep the speed down a little, letting it drag out a little.
Keigo’s hands find your hips, pulling you further into him. Feeling the way your breasts are squished against the hard planes of his body. At the same time, he can feel Gojo’s hand squeeze his own hip. Lips ghosting Keigo’s ear. “Doing so good for us.”
That makes the blond moan out into your mouth, the praise traveling directly south—something you can definitely feel. Especially when you disconnect your lips from his, lips swollen from the kisses as you look at Gojo. “Seems like he’s enjoying this, a lot.”
The white-haired man raises a brow before he looks over the shorter man’s shoulder, looking at the obvious tent in Keigo’s trousers. “How cute, getting that hard over a couple of kisses. And you haven’t even kissed me yet,” Gojo grabs the blond’s chin, turning his head to face him. “Don’t worry, I also get hard embarrassingly fast when she kisses me.”
Before he can even ask what Gojo means, said man already crashes his lips upon his own, muffling the sound. Keigo has to stand on his tippy toes a little to kiss the taller man back, twisting his torso around awkwardly—not wanting to have his sensitive wings squished to his body.
Your sweet giggles fill his ears. “So eager. Knew you’d be perfect for us,” you purr out, one hand cupping the bulge as you pepper open-mouthed kisses along his exposed neck, suckling on the skin.
Keigo groans out into Gojo’s mouth, the feeling of your fingers tracing his hard-on through his pants has him bucking up into your hand, hips moving on its own as he’s completely lost in the way the white-haired man is kissing him. It’s so different from the way you kissed him—sweet whereas the other man is a bit more mean, saliva getting swapped in a filthy exchange.
Fuck, he’s not sure he can keep up with the both of you touching him like this.
There’s a gasp of air when Gojo finally pulls back, blue eyes almost completely disappearing to the black of his irises, only a thin ring of blue remaining. The two of them breathing heavy as they just look at each other for a couple of seconds, before a small thud! finally grabs both their attention.
Snapping his gaze to the sound, he sees the way you’ve dropped to your knees now—not even realising that you stopped touching him—an innocent smile on your face as you look up at the two men in front of you.
Gojo just chuckles, moving to stand beside the shorter man now. Running a hand through your hair, you lean into his hand, eyes flicking between the two of them. Your hands find themselves on Keigo’s thighs that flex under the touch. Your head moving to lay itself on there too, nose brushing against his bulge as you look up at the blond.
“Wanna suck you off,” you place a few teasing kisses on his covered cock. “Please?”
“Y-yeah. Fuck yeah, of course you can, dove,” he stammers out, completely entranced by the way your eyes are so doe-like right now. A complete opposite to how they looked just a few second ago.
A smile stretches across your lips as you unbuckle his belt, trying to get the useless fabric out of the way as fast as possible. And who is Keigo to deny such a pretty girl his cock? Moving his own hands to help you get rid of the garments quicker, his cock springs up the moment the clothes pool around his ankles.
There’s pre beading down his slit, shaft already glistening with it. A prominent vein pulsing on the left side of his cock as the hairs at the base are trimmed at best. It twitches a few times under your gaze, before you spit into your hand and finally wrap it around his girth.
A groan immediately punches from the back of his throat when he feels your delicate fingers tug on him. The little stubs on his back twitch with the touch, a small tingle going down his spine at the feeling. He has to hold himself back from cumming right then and there—already embarrassingly close from just a few kisses and touches.
Placing a few kisses to the underside of his shaft, you let your tongue loll out of your mouth, giving it a teasing lick before wrapping your lips around the swollen head. Your hand still moving uuup and down his shaft, pulling moans and groans from the blond like they’re free candies.
“Look so pretty for us like this,” Gojo murmurs, not sure if he’s talking to you or Keigo. Not that it matters much to the shorter man, words only fueling him more. Eyes fluttering shut as you suuckk on his tip, tongue swirling around as you start bobbing your head up and down his shaft.
“O-oh shit,” Keigo moans when your nose meets his pelvis. His hand shoots down to your head, fingers hovering just over your hair as they flex, not sure if he’s allowed to grab your head like that.
Seems like you notice, though. Pulling yourself off him, lips shiny with saliva and pre, hand still jerking him off as you smile up at him—all innocent, like you didn’t just have him down your slutty throat. “Go on, you can do whatever you want.”
With that, you take him in your mouth again, throat bulging slightly as you deep throat him once more.
This time Keigo’s hand threads through your hair, fingers digging into the back of your skull as his own eyes roll back, only the whites visible. Abs flexing as he oh so desperately tries not to buck his hips forward, burying his cock down your throat like he wants.
“Taking me so good,” he whimpers—fucking whimpers out. Completely lost in you that he’s forgotten that there’s another presence in the room.
“You can be rougher than that, she takes cock like a champ. Don’t you, babe?” Keigo startles, eyes opening to see the other man completely bare. When did he even take his clothes off? Cock standing proud, tip a pretty blush colour as pre gathers along his slit. The sight makes the hero absolutely salivate.
The words don’t even process in his mind until you pull yourself off Keigo’s cock with a wet little pop! some saliva dripping down the corner of your mouth, despite the blond not being as big as your boyfriend. A whine escapes him as your warm, wet throat leaves him. The cool, chilly air of his bedroom making his ever-sensitive dick twitch a few times.
Luckily for him, your hand wraps itself around the blond’s cock, keeping him stimulated as you give teasing kitten licks to the neglected cockhead of your boyfriend’s cock.
Groaning, Gojo puts his hand on the back of your head, guiding your mouth until it’s wrapped around him. The tip grazing the roof of your mouth as you steady yourself with one hand on his big thigh.
Gojo starts fucking into your mouth with deep, harsh trusts. And fuck, the sight has Keigo buck his hips into your hand. It was clear that you could take a lot, especially with the way you were sloppily making out with his tip before sinking down to the base, his tip reaching the back of your throat. But seeing you swallow Gojo’s dick that is at least an inch and a half bigger than his own, yeah, taking cock like a champ is exactly right.
The room fills with the wet sounds of your gurgles, Gojo’s balls hitting your chin over and over again, and the sound of the white-haired man whining out your name between praises.
Gojo doesn’t let you come up for air even once. Not that you want it, from your expression. Literal hearts in your eyes as you look up at the man who’s currently rutting into your mouth like there’s no tomorrow, head thrown back, eyes closed.
You haven’t forgotten about the blond, though. Hand still moving up and down his shaft as you get absolutely used by the other man, your fingers digging into his thigh.
Keigo can feel himself get closer by the second, already having trouble not cumming right now—watching the way you’re taking all of Gojo like it’s your job. Even when the white-haired man’s hips buck uncontrollably, little whines leaving his lips as you keep sucking him off.
Pulling you off his girth, Gojo groans. “F-fuck sweetheart, let us cum on your face, hmm? You’re close too, right, handsome?” Keigo just nods his head, golden curls bouncing with the motion. “Of course you are, such a good boy.”
That does it, sending Keigo right over the edge. Hot white spurts landing on your face as you close your eyes and open your mouth.
Gojo is not far behind, cumming with a groan. Their release mixing on your face, painting you in white.
You scoop some of the cum from your cheeks, lips closing around your fingers as you lick it all up. A moan ripping itself from the back of your throat when the mixed cum hits your taste buds.
Keigo can’t even properly come down from his high—dick still twitching a few times, wing stubs moving on his back—before Gojo helps you stand, and licks some of the release from your face. His tongue lapping over your cheek, before sharing a filthy kiss with you, swapping the cum around in your mouths.
If Keigo’s dick wasn’t twitching before, it certainly is now. Getting half-hard again already, watching the way you two are just drinking each other up—and the cum, of course.
It’s only when Gojo scoops some of it from your cheek onto his fingers, that the blond comes to his senses a bit more. “C’mon pretty boy, you don’t wanna know how sweet we taste together?”
Gojo taps his cum-covered fingers on Keigo’s bottom lip, smearing some of it on there. For one second, just one, those golden eyes find yours—seeing the way you’re biting your lip, rubbing your thighs together where you’re still sat on your knees, eyes half-lidded—and he’s done for.
Opening his mouth, he sucks on Gojo’s fingers. The taste of both him and the other man filling his taste buds, and he can’t help but let his eyes flutter shut.
“Fuck, he looks so pretty like that. Almost makes me regret not asking him to suck me off with you,” Gojo whispers, blue eyes looking down at the other guy that’s currently sucking on his fingers like it’s his dick.
“We can always do that another time,” you reply. Having stood up from the ground, only to discard your own clothes. Not that Keigo notices that detail, eyes opening to directly stare up into those pretty blue orbs, tongue still swirling around those thick digits.
It’s only when you move to stand behind him, breath ghosting the shell of his ear as you lean forward, one finger tracing his spine, going especially slow when you’re close to his wings, that he snaps out of whatever trance he was in.
His wing stubs move erratically on his back, the sensitive skin your finger is currently grazing making him so fucking sensitive. A small whine leaving his throat when your finger comes down on what’s left of his wing bone.
“Maybe we can also play with those feathers of his next time.” The thought makes a shiver go down his spine, already thinking about how the two of you would use his feathers.
Fuck, would Gojo put him on his lap, back against his chest, those red feathers getting squished between bodies as he cards his fingers through the crimson feathers? All while you jerk him off, that devious throat of yours taking all of him in when he’s already sensitive.
Multiple scenarios flash through his head at once. You, on your back, fingers clinging to his biceps and shoulders, leaving behind angry marks he can admire for the rest of the day when he wakes up again.
Him, sinking down on Gojo’s ridiculously large cock, wings twitching as he tries to fit all of him in. All while Gojo whispers condescendingly praise into his ears, telling him how pretty he is when he’s struggling to take some cock.
Fuck, now is not the time to think about it, but rather to act it all out. And it seems like the two of you agree with that sentiment, especially when you try to take his shirt off, leaving him just as bare as you and Gojo already were.
“Think you can take me?” Gojo asks the blond, giving his own cock a few tugs.
Can he? He honestly has never even tried something this large before, only having a handful of experiences with other guys, where he topped most of the time. The few times he bottomed wasn’t with guys who were this big.
Keigo looks down once again, and he can swear Gojo has gotten even bigger somehow between fucking your throat and now. Surely a trick of his mind, getting a bit overwhelmed at the thought of all of that trying to fit inside of him.
“‘S okay if you can’t, baby,” you, still stood behind him, rubbing his shoulders a bit, say. “You two can fuck me instead if you don‘t think you can take it.”
Gulping, he looks at you for a few seconds, golden eyes completely blown out when he feels the way you’re pressing against him. Then looks back at where the taller man is standing, cock hanging from how heavy it is, glistening in the low bedroom lighting, making it all the more inviting.
“I can take it,” he responds, even though the thought of fucking you also weighs heavy on his mind. Thinking about how your walls would be clamping around him as he fucks into you the same time Gojo does.
But he can’t deny that he also wants Gojo, having daydreamed about what the tall man would do to him if he ever let it.
“Attaboy. We’ll take such good care of you,” Gojo whispers, sealing his promise with a filthy kiss. “Go on, lay down for me.”
He does as told, leaning back on the bed, propping himself up with his elbows so his wings don’t touch the bed.
At the same time you go to lay down beside him, legs spread. There’s slick along your inner thighs, glistening in the light. Of course Keigo can’t help but look at it, eyes immediately snapping towards your puffy folds.
Not that he has a view of it for long, because there’s a groan from the other man before he’s on you—eating you out like a man starved. There’s sweet moans falling from your lips as you fist some of the white hair, bringing Gojo closer toward you.
Speaking of, it’s not like they completely forget about him. One of your hands creeps over to where Keigo lay, wrapping around his base and giving him a few pumps, thumbing the slit with each pass of your hand.
Leaning over, he captures your mouth. Kissing you like there’s no tomorrow. The sound of the wet shlick shlick shlick along with the wet squelch of Gojo’s fingers moving in and out of you fills the room.
Before he knows it, you cum with a cry. Back arching as you moan out into Keigo’s mouth. “That’s it, sweetheart. Cum all over my tongue,” the white-haired man mumbles from between your legs. Before he finally lets up, removing his fingers from your dripping core, only to lap them clean. Shufflinf over to seat himself between Keigo’s legs now.
For a second, looking down at the man that’s currently looking at him like he wants to absolutely devour him, Keigo swears he sees something on his chest. A small marking that wasn’t there before. Tilting his chin further down, he can see it more clearly now, and it has his heart and mind absolutely racing.
It almost looks like a tattoo, in the most beautiful shade of blue he can even think of—almost the same shade as the man’s eyes who is currently between his legs, sucking hickeys into his skin he definitely has to cover up when he’s cleared to go on patrol again. (God forbid someone somehow saw one of the markings, he doesn’t have the time to explain to everyone that he’s a human being with needs.)
But the tattoo holds his attention, a small little heart with swirls all around them. It almost looks like it’s glowing, and his fingers can’t help but creep towards the mark.
“Isn’t it pretty?” Keigo startles when he hears your voice, much closer than he had anticipated it to be. Turning his head to the side, he’s met with you. Perched on your knees as you sit right beside him now, no longer laying on your back. Eyes wide, he can’t help but look you over for a few seconds.
His eyes go to the swell of your breasts, looking at the way they look so inviting to suck. Then travel down, all the way until he sees a similar mark on your own lower stomach—the same pretty shade of blue, a little heart with markings all around. A fucking womb tattoo.
How didn’t he notice it when Gojo was absolutely lapping you up? When your back was arched so pretty, eyes fluttering close.
“Since when…?” He can’t really find the words he’s looking for, golden eyes still trained on your womb while Gojo has finally stopped his ministrations, instead laying his head on Keigo’s thigh.
“Back when I made her my girlfriend—made her mine,” the taller man replies, blue eyes flitting between the two marks; eyes lingering on your tattoo a bit longer than on Keigo’s one. “As for yours… the first time we met.”
Keigo furrows his brows. The day they met? Surely he would’ve known if someone gave him a tattoo, especially on his chest. Plus, he’s never seen it before in his life. Sure, he was tired all the time, but not tired enough to miss a whole ass tattoo on his chest.
When the blond stays silent for longer than expected, Gojo pouts a little, glossy lip pushed out as he playfully bites the blond’s thigh. “Do you not like it?”
“I do! I do! It’s just… How did I miss this before?” He mutters more to himself than to either of you, but you perk up a bit. “Because we’re only showing it to you now, pretty boy.”
“What does that even mean— O-oh fuck!” He gets cut off when a warm mouth wraps around the tip of his blushing cock, tongue lapping up all the pre that was dripping already. One of his scarred hands flies down to tangle into the short, white locks of Gojo’s hair. Who is currently looking up with an amused glint in those pretty blue eyes.
Pulling himself off, a small pop! echoing through the room. “Sorry, did you want to ask something?”
“N-not really,” Keigo rasps, his hand trying to guide Gojo back to his swollen cock head. Gojo just chuckles, giving the blond a small wink, before he places small kisses all over the shaft—from his glossy tip to his frenulum, a small moan escaping the hero’s lips when he feels the teasing kitten lick over the thing, all the way down until his lips find the delicate skin of Keigo’s balls.
Wrapping his lips around them, Keigo has to focus on not bucking into the lager man’s hands. Small moans escaping his lips as Gojo plays with his balls, all whilst still jerking him off. The sight of such a pretty guy sucking on his balls while his hand is pumping him, has him positively twitching in the white-haired man’s hands.
“Didn’t forget about me, did you?” you purr at the blonde, one finger trailing from his throat down to his chest, where you circle one of his nipples. Shaking his head, curls bouncing with the motion, he cups your jaw to bring you in for a kiss.
At the exact same time, Gojo pulls away from his balls, only for two wet, cold fingers to circle his entrance. Pulling back from the kiss, he looks down to where Gojo is smearing the substance—of what he guesses is lube—in a messy circle around his hole, blue eyes staring up at him. “This okay?”
“Mhmm, yeah.” Keigo nods back, giving the okay for Satoru to sink one of his fingers inside of him. The foreign feeling has him hissing out, the slight stretch almost completely unfamiliar to the blond. You brush his fringe out of his face, a few golden curls stubbornly springing back into place. “Relax for him, pretty bird.”
He tries to do as much, just letting himself feel how Gojo is slowly moving his finger in and out of him. Finger sometimes crooking up, trying to find that spot inside of him. The white-haired man places a kiss on Keigo’s hipbone.
All while you lean over the blond, placing small kisses all on his shoulders and collarbones, sucking small marks into his skin.
The feeling of two sets of soft lips upon his skin makes him relax a bit more, enough that Gojo can sink his entire finger in. Trying to get him used to the stretch to get a second finger in. “Doing so good for me.”
Keigo’s cock twitches where it’s laying on his stomach, the soft amber lighting in the room annunciating the way his entire cock is glossy from pre and saliva. Throwing his head back, he doesn’t see the way the white-haired guy now leans up.
Grabbing the hero’s cock, Gojo wraps his lips around his shaft once more, trying to distract the smaller guy from the fact that he’s adding another finger in, slowly stretching him out more.
Keigo clenches around both digits, a small moan escaping him as he feels all too much—Gojo’s digits slowly scissoring him open while the white-haired male also lets his tongue lave over Keigo’s slit, and then there’s you.
Soft lips placing open-mouthed kisses over his skin, sometimes stopping to let your teeth sink in or suck a mark into the suntanned skin, until you stray a bit further down, your lips find the mark on his chest.
Hawks’ back arches from the bed, and Gojo has to wrap his free arm over the man’s waist, pinning him down so he doesn’t accidentally hurt the smaller guy; fingers still slowly moving inside of him, cock now buried in Satoru’s throat. Not that you’d know from the way the guy doesn’t even blink at the sudden movement, only sinks his head down further until his lips reach the base.
“Shit- fuck, what the fuck?” He groans, one hand finding the back of your head—where you’re still licking and sucking on the tattoo, and it’s almost like there are thousands of little nerve endings on the thing, making his dick twitch and pulse inside Gojo’s mouth.
Placing a small kiss on it, you look back up at Keigo, a smirk tugging on your lips. “Pretty nice, huh?”
He can’t find the words, especially not when you lick a broad stripe over the mark. His back arches, the stimulation of the mark plus the way his cock feels in Gojo’s tight throat and the three fingers currently moving inside of him, hurtles him over the edge.
It isn’t long before Gojo is pulling off and out of him, licking his lips like he was just served a meal. Throwing an arm over his eyes, he let’s himself breathe, chest heaving up and down.
“You ready for another?” The arm slides off his face to look at Gojo, who’s standing at the side of the bed, hand wrapped around his cock as he gives it a few lazy strokes. The confusion must show on his face, because both you and Gojo chuckle in unison. “I hope you ate enough to get plenty of energy, because we’re far from done with you yet.”
╰ 18+ MDNI. its okay if you can’t handle it, hawks will talk you (both) through it!
keigo’s folding you as if he believes your body is malleable.
cock head hammering in and out of your greedy cunt, contorting the gushy walls inside that pretty lil’ womb he calls home, shaft snuggly squeezing throughout each little crevice it can find, stretching you wide open.
every last inch of skin is practically covered in him. dry trails of spit lingering on your clammy flesh, deep plum bruises blooming in the imprints of his teeth, the countless hours of devotion on your body claiming you for the world to see slowly yet surely leaving you deliriously slurring for more, drooling mouth pleading for his cock.
when he first entered you, it wasn’t gentle. thick tawny hands push, push, pushing! your thighs snug into your chest, tits smushed into shaky knees with skin sticking together as he folded you into the most ferociously intimate mating press of your life.
you had no time to breathe, the sheer circumstance of his fat cock tearing your poor pussy to shreds, the burn so deep in your tummy it churned, butterflies aimlessly swirlin’ around your abdomen.
and when he started to pick up his pace? you couldn’t bear it anymore, the feeling of his hips slapping into your ass each time his cock collided with your cervix had you seeing stars, drooling lips begging for him to stop.
“keigo! please slow down…” you’re trailing, whimpering when his cock pulsates in your cunt, hips gyrating into you, blond happy trial poking out between your thighs.
pelvis on pelvis, his presses into your clit just right, leaving your mouth gaping, mewls slipping from your exhausted throat. “oh, like this?” keigo’s questioning, tongue swiping against his lips, leering down at you with a look of false confusion, smiling when you meet his gaze.
“yeah—”
“—yeah, noooo. i think this would feel wayyyy better,” he abruptly cuts you off, reeling his hips far enough his tip almost slips out of you, and slamming right back in, this time humpin’ against you with the deepest strokes he’s ever given you, loudly giggling when he’s pressing you silly down into the mattress.
“not like this!” you’re screaming, gripping his wrists to push him away even though he’s far stronger than you especially in your current state, feeling the top of your head begin to gently hit the wooden headboard, “keigo! mmpfh—i can’t!”
“come on angel, don’t tell me you can’t.” keigo’s girthy cockhead smooches snuggly against your g-spot, sloppily making out with your syrupy cunt, filing your belly with his crimson-red tip, cute beads of pre mixing inside your sticky pussy.
sighing when he feels you clench around his cock, he can’t help but push his teasing further, fingertips grabbing ur chin to look back into his golden irises, “kept going on and on about how much you wanted this, now you’re saying you can’t take it?”
“always fuck ya deep, don’t i? here—let’s see,” he smirks, the same hand against your chin traveling down, down, down, until it’s resting beneath your navel, pressing hard into the flesh, feeling his cock through your flesh, “there we go, how’s that for deep?”
you both moan in unison, the pressure perfectly pushing your cunt down on his cock, the pleasure so suffocating you feel your eyes roll back into your skull, mouth slurring. “keigo!”
he keeps his hand there, biceps tensing as he holds himself up, cock drilling into your pussy, “you got it, lemme take care of my girls, yeah?”
“no! no, i can’t!” choking, you can barely get a word in, the violent attack on your pussy causing your eyes to roll backwards, toes curling.
“you can’t? i think you caaan—looks like you can,” he’s slurring, head dipping backwards to stare at his cock stuffing you full like he’s checking for a problem under the hood of a car, shrugging when there isn’t one, “so why can’t you?”
“too muchhhh—you gotta stop!”
“aww, my poor baby,” he grins, cockily dipping his head to the side and pouting, “you really wanna stop?”
deliriously nodding your fucked out head, he’s instantly stopping, pulling his cock completely out of your tight pussy. winching at the loss of contact, your eyes widen in horror, clammy hands grabbing at his chest to pull him close. “w-wait—fuck! no, no, no! please don’t stop kei—”
“—who said ‘m stopping?” two skilled digits prod at the silkened flesh of your stretched pussy lips, thoroughly pressin’ into the neglected nub between them.
massaging your clit with just enough pressure that your legs begin to spasm in place, he moves around the flesh like he knows it—like he owns it, cockhead whimpering and dripping when he sees your empty hole clench around nothing.
“you—go faster.” feeling warm and fuzzy inside and like you’re going to cry out of both ends, you begin to beg, thrashing around the best you can, ass wriggling off the sheets.
“faster?” he shakes his head, fingers angrily pinching your clit in a silent warning to lay back down, only continuing to rub at your clit when you respond correctly. “nah, i think you’re gonna cum just like this.”
looking at him with a look that physically pains him, you push out your bottom lip, “l-like this? without you inside me?”
“hmmmm…” he ‘debates’ mouth moving from side to side, ignoring the feeling of his balls churching at the sight of your cute pleading, “actually—no, that’s a pretty good idea,” ripping his fingers away from toying with your pussy to stick his cock right back inside ya, leaving you breathless and silent as it rips you apart in one feverish thrust.
“fuuuuckkkk!”
“keep breathing pretty,” keigo’s humming, placing a soft kiss to your ankle, praises after praises lazily falling off his pink tongue. “doing soooo damn good f’me, love this pussy baby girl. fuckkk—can tell you’re close, relax for me? please?”
you’re so fucked out he’s sure you aren’t even listening to him until your narrowly relaxing your tight walls, letting him massage your g-spot with his thick cock just like you love it, fingertips finding that sweet spot between your lips again, rubbing it even slower than before. “there ya go, good fuckin’ girl.”
keigo always knows how to make you swoon, cheeky words going straight to your obedient cunt, the pleasure making you lose your goddamn mind—
“—mhm, gonna cum right now, aren’t you? let me feel it, soak me angel.”
“…right now?” nose twitching, pleasure suddenly lolls throughout your body, orgasm hitting you with a heart shaped arrow straight to the core, a silky purrrrr roaring from your chest. “oh—oh fuck!”
he’s fucking into you like a mad man, abusing your pussy like he hates it, cock meanly snapping into your cervix, fucking you through your dizzying high.
“keigo! slow downnnn—” slapping at his sculpted body, he doesn’t slow his feverish thrusts, words of praise turning into incoherent babbles as he throws his head back, muscles flexing, abs tensing.
so numb and fucked out you realize keigo is cumming inside of you. thick and sappy seed easily mixes with your extra sticky slick, the creamy concoction pouring right out of your gaping slit and down the mattress.
he looks back down at you, amber eyes looking black the way his pupils have blown up practically triple in size, “can’t-can’t with you lookin’ at me like that sweets.”
keigo doesn’t seem to notice his balls emptying just yet, too busy talking you… or more like himself through the high, teeth chattering, lips stuttering, “mmmm—give me another one real quick, please baby?
“seriously?” you’re asking, falling back down into the sheets, the thin cotton sticking to your shoulders as you shutter, keigo showing no signs of slowing down any time soon.
𝜗𝜚 you start to experience all the frustrating things that come with dating an undeniably sexy, cocky pro hero when the two of you finally get a proper date night
• keigo takami x f!reader
cw ~ established relationship, bitchy(?)!jealous!tipsy!reader, smut;; car sex, angry sex, fingering, some dry humping, mating press, creampie, pet names (baby, sweets, gorgeous / pretty girl, ‘attention whore’ directed to keigo) wait have i finally learned how to tag
wc 3.5k
You were seriously debating if you should take your glass and break it on this lady's head, or just throw the wine in her face before shoving her away from your boyfriend.
How many times does someone need to be checked on at a damn club?
“Ha, yeah, I mean… we’ve got the best selection here, so they say. Just offering.” she flashes that same tryhard flirty smirk to Keigo for the seventh time this night.
Keigo looked at you, then his drink. “Mmmm… nah… Really—If I get drunk, she’ll be on my ass.”
The waitress looked you in the eye, maybe the second time she’s bothered to this whole time, before giving a tight smile.
“Of course. I’ll be around!” She winked before turning and walking off.
“‘I’ll be around!’” You mocked her. “Yeah, I fucking bet.”
Keigo turned his head to you quickly, a confused look. “Hm? You alright?” his leg nudged yours.
You almost hit him with your glass. “Am I alright?”
He looks to the side awkwardly. “…Are you?”
You had to breathe in deeply before speaking. “You don’t think she’s being a little… extra?”
“In what way?” he tilted his head before sipping his soda.
You gave him a look, before exaggerating your posture and starting your impression of her. “Oh, Mister Hawks! Are you okay?! Oh! I’m back again! Oh! Let me suck your dick Hawks!”
Keigo choked on his drink. “Oh—I don’t think she said that…” he chuckled. “Jealous, sweets? Come on, she works here. Trying to get money out of me. You know how it is…”
You frowned. Keigo wasn’t stupid. The way he was known for how flirty he was, there is no way he doesn’t realize when women are flirting with him now. It wasn’t even about him caring or not, it’s just… uncomfortable to watch another woman flirt with your man.
“You seriously don’t think she’s doing too much?” You squinted at him.
“I mean, do you?” he looked over in the direction she left, before turning back to you. “I really didn’t notice anything. But… I mean…” he paused, hesitated—like he knew he was going to say something stupid. “I can’t control what someone else does. You know I’m yours, baby. Don’t worry about it.” It felt passive aggressive, the way he squeezed your shoulder and kissed your cheek.
You breathed. You didn’t wanna mess up the night, it’s been nice so far… not counting the insistent lady. You chugged the last of your wine, before literally shaking it off. You nodded to Keigo, and tried to forget about it.
Yeah, that didn’t last long.
You two eventually moved because Keigo wanted to dance with you. The dance floor was across the hall though, this fancy ass club, and as the two of you had just walked into the area, you bumped into her. Again.
She was drinking on the job or something because she was giggling her ass off with a friend and gasped so dramatically when she saw Keigo again.
You were already too irritated to actually listen to their conversation. You could just see her obvious attempts to seduce him, and his smile being a little too wide for your liking.
Then, you saw as his wing twitched slightly when he looked at you, and then watched in absolute horror as this lady reached for his wing and put her whole hand between his feathers, caressing him.
Keigo flinched quickly, but just laughed it off. “Oh, wow—Ha, don’t touch!”
“Ohhh, they’re so pretty—”
Fuck no. You placed your glass on whatever random table you could find, and walked away so quickly it was simply three clicks of your heels and you had disappeared.
Keigo was stunned, handing his empty cup to the lady before following behind you.
You had no other choice but to leave the vicinity. You’d have put your hands on somebody, either him or the lady—actually, preferably both—and you were still coherent enough to know you’d regret it simply because there were too many people around.
You could feel a headache coming on as you opened the back door, walking out into the large parking lot. Your breath picked up as you heard heavy footsteps behind you.
“Baby, what the fuck—what’s the matter with you?” He yelled out, picking up the pace and ending up right behind you.
“You’re really gonna act dumb with me right now?” You don’t bother to look back—so, he rushes in front of you, walking backwards.
He ran his hand through his hair, looking confused. “I’m not acting dumb?—What is the issue?!”
“What’s the issue? The issue, is the way you can’t help yourself whenever you get attention.” you spat out.
“What are you—Fuck, is this about the waitress again??”
“Yes, it’s about her!” you were getting louder by how frustrating he was. He looked to the sidewalk, noticing a few people walking past and taking long glances at the two of you. He kissed his teeth.
“I don’t know what you want me to say here. I didn’t do anything.”
“Yeah. You didn’t—That’s the whole point!” you tried pushing past him to get in front again, but he grabbed your arm—not firmly enough as you yanked it from him immediately and walked faster. He grunted out your name, still following you.
“What did you want me to do? Curse her out?!” he was getting louder too.
“Don’t… let her act the way she was?! Don’t act like it’s a joke when someone touches you like that?!” you looked back at him. “She touched your wing and you just wanna laugh about it?”
“Did you want me to push her away?”
“That would’ve been better than whatever the fuck you did.” You stopped, facing him with your arms crossed.
“I can’t help being a decent person. I wasn’t going to curse her out.”
You squinted at him, not even believing these words were coming out of his mouth. You breathed heavily as you stared at him, his brows furrowed and his hands fidgeting at his sides.
“I never said you needed to curse her out.”
“With how you’re acting, that’s what it seems like!”
“With how you were acting, like a fucking attention whore, it seems like you would have taken your shirt off and let her count your abs or some bullshit!!” you hissed.
Now he had to take a second. You watched the muscle in his jaw twitch, and the way his mouth subtly opened and closed like he didn’t know what to say.
Your head was starting to pound from the yelling. You spoke quieter this time. “Fuck it. You wanna treat me like I’m crazy, fine.” you shrugged, and started to walk away again. “Look, I’ll just wait in the car and let you go back in there so she can kiss your ass.”
It was silent for a moment, your heels the only noise between the two of you until you heard his footsteps following you again.
“I—… fuck, I can’t even think.” he spoke lowly, different from just a moment ago. He picked up his pace until he was right behind you again. “So, what? You wanna go home?”
You stopped in front of his car, looking back at him. “Oh, you’re not gonna stay for some more praise from another woman?”
His silence sort of startled you. He had a blank expression as he looked you dead in the eyes. “…Get in the car.” he murmured as he walked to the drivers side.
You rolled your eyes, huffing as you opened the door, took your heels off and hopped in.
The car's silence was deafening. You looked over at him every now and then, just watching how his entire body would rise and fall with his deep breaths. You never liked seeing him angry, and the fact that it’s with you—and entirely your fault—just slightly makes you feel… queasy, almost. Not enough to forget what pissed you off in the first place, though.
You spoke again, responding to your own thoughts.
“Actually, I wanna know why you’re there huffing and puffing like I did something to you.”
He was still silent.
“You’re just pissed I called you out. Fuckin show off. Desperate for any sort of compliment from any bitch out there.”
He stopped at the second red light, and finally turned to look at you. Or more so—look you over. From down to your feet, to dead in the eyes with that same blank look.
“What?” you grumbled. He looked you up and down two more times before the light changed and he drove again.
The silent treatment? Really? Before you could give it to him?
“Unbelievable.” you murmured. If he wanted silent, you could be silent. Whatever.
But then you realized he was going the wrong way. You didn’t even realize where he took the wrong turn and ended up wherever the hell you were now, but you knew this was not getting closer to home.
“Keigo? Where the hell are you going?” you huffed, again to no response. But then he drove into some multi-level parking garage that connected to a mall. He pulled into the bottom level, where it was sort of empty and the lights were hardly working. After finding a spot and bringing the car to a stop, it was silent.
“Keigo.” you spoke once more, pulling your bare feet up into the leather seat.
He looked at you as he reached for his seatbelt, undoing it swiftly. Then, turning his body toward you. Your breath hitched, the anger in your chest turning to a warmth as his energy shifted.
He got so close to you, his hand eventually reaching and sliding behind your neck, pulling you closer to him. Your faces were eventually so close you could feel each others breaths.
“You think I’m an attention whore?” he murmured, his eyes dropping to your mouth, before snapping up to watch your expression. “Fine. I am.”
Eugh. Your brows furrowed, having no idea where he was really going with this.
“Only for you, though,” he kept looking at your lips like he genuinely couldn’t help it. “I only want your attention. I only need your attention.”
Your breaths got heavier. You wanted to argue, tell him his lines wouldn’t work this time—but those would be lies, and your ability to speak faded with how close his lips were to yours.
“You mad at me, baby?” he cooed.
“Yes.” you grumbled. You swore your hand was reaching to push him away, but watched as it gripped his shirt on his shoulder.
“Awh. It’s okay, sweets,” his voice dropped into that quiet, comforting register that made your chest ache. His hands pulled you in just a little closer. “I’ll make you feel better.”
You didn’t have the chance to respond in any way before his lips were on yours, more desperate than you ever expected. A passionate kiss, with a hum that told you he wanted this so badly. His lips parted from yours for a second, just to slide his tongue in your mouth.
You let out a frustrated whimper against him, which made him tilt your head to kiss you deeper.
When he finally pulled back, he left messy kisses at the corner of your mouth.
“I’m gonna fuck it out of you.” he breathed, following his words with a sloppy kiss to your lips. His promise sent that heat in your chest right down to your pussy. He groaned again before actually pulling away. “Come on. Get in the back.”
You scrambled, following behind him and climbing into his lap as he so kindly had his legs spread wide in the backseat just for you to straddle.
As you sat down, you gasped after immediately feeling the hard bulge that had been growing since you left the club. He moaned, grabbing your hips and grinding your ass against him.
“Shit, Kei—H-Have you been…”
He whined against you before speaking. “Baby, fuck… you looked too good out there, yelling at me like that. Looking all pissed.” he rolled his hips against you. You let out a needy whimper, fingers digging into his jacket as he ground his thick length up against your pussy again. His wings were stretched out in the cramped space of the car, twitching every time he felt your heat.
Your cunt started to ache for him instantly. Every time he pressed your ass against his cock, it sent a wave of slick between your thighs.
“Th—That whole time?—you really are an attention whore,” your voice was hoarse as you spoke.
“For you, my gorgeous girl, aah—fuck,” he moaned. His hands moved from your hips to your ass, groping you hard as he pushed your body into his. “Need you, sweets.” he said, as your only warning before slipping your dress over your ass, one of his hands palming your heat to feel the wet spot he already knew was there.
His hand found it’s way under your panties, and his dick twitched by how soaked you were for him. He easily slipped a finger inside you, then another. “Fuck, look at you.” he praised, letting his wrist rub against your swollen clit. “You’re a mess for me, princess. You like cursing me out?”
“Nghh, Keigo—I don’t want your fingers,” you breathed against him.
“Oh, tell me what you want, baby.” he curled his fingers inside you.
“Aaah—Fuck you—” you huffed.
“To fuck me?” he chuckled.
“Fuck you.”
He grinned as he sped up his fingers, before pulling out and looking at you as he licked his fingers clean, his eyes rolling back from how good you taste.
You breathed heavily as you reached for his pants, undoing them urgently. His boxers already revealed he had his own wet mess, but it was a better sight when you freed his length. It bounced up, glistening with precum, revealing how needy he’s been for you this whole time.
If you didn’t need him inside you so badly, you’d lick him clean.
He didn’t let you admire for long, though, as he gripped your hips and the base of his cock, positioning himself and—once again, without warning—pushing his thick length into your pussy. A long wet noise filling the car as you sank down onto him.
“Shit, baby you’re so warm…” he whined, gripping you hard as he tried to keep his hips from fucking into you. He kept a slow pace, letting you feel his every inch as the veins across his cock pulsed with every squeeze from your pussy.
The sloppy, rhythmic squelch of his thick shaft sliding in and out of your dripping cunt, mixed with the heavy slaps of your thighs hitting against his with every stroke, filled the car. The windows were completely fogged up, thank god no one was around…
One of his hands drifted up your body, lifting your dress farther to reveal your tits. He quickly took you in his mouth, sucking and circling his tongue around your sweet, hard nipple. He whined against you, feeling the way your insides twitched in pleasure.
“Baby, ah—Please, faster,” you begged, tugging against his jacket, trying to gain some sort of control to force his dick inside you deeper, faster.
His mouth popped from your nipple, looking up at you as he bit his lip. “You’re so fuckin’ sexy…” he rasped, throwing his head back as he didn’t change his pace at all.
You whined out his name again, and caught his annoying knowing smirk, almost growling.
“You’re so—” you’re cut off by your own whimpers, and he was loving this.
“I’m so… what? Talk to me,” his tone was condescending as he started to slam you onto him so slowly, every time you tried to speak you’re cut off by his length filling you up completely.
“Ugh—so fucking annoying.” you managed to finish your sentence. “I guess—ngh—I… I guess you can’t fuck me right because… ah—you’re too…t-too busy thinking of that waitress, hm?” you finally got the teasing words out, catching his face drop quickly.
“Fuck that waitress,” he grumbles, gripping you tighter as he thrusts into you harder.
“Oh—fuck her? Or fuck me?” you almost laughed, throwing his line right back at him—but he was quick.
Your cunt missed his warmth instantly as he suddenly pulled out. He laid you down against the car seat, putting himself at an angle as he fucks back into you—deeper, faster, just as you wanted. His thrusts are continuous, and his thumb meets your swollen clit, having you moan almost embarrassingly.
With a low, territorial growl—he shifted his weight, flattening his torso against yours before grabbing your knees and shoving them up past your chest until you were folded under his weight.
He moaned shamelessly loud as he fucked you balls deep, the mating press stretching your puffy cunt wide open for him.
“I’m fucking you,” he grunted, leaning down to get closer to your face. “I’m fucking this pretty pussy. I’m fucking my gorgeous girl.” he slowed down again as he spoke, making you whine pathetically.
“I told you, baby. Your attention whore.” he grinned. “I only want this. I only need you.”
“Kei…” you whimpered.
“Oh, baby, you sound so cute. I’ve got you.” he spoke so sweetly in comparison to the way he picked up the speed. He was hammering into you with an unhinged force.
His thumb never left your sensitive clit, rubbing against your slick bud with every deep, bottoming-out thrust. You just barely had the strength to keep holding onto him.
“K-Kei—ah!—I’m gonna cum!” you cried, watching as his eyes rolled back and his hips stuttered before he kept his pace for you, letting you ride out your orgasm.
Your pussy twitched and clenched around him, making his whole body weak as he shivered and felt his own release come. His heavy wings stretched out as much as they could as he delivered one final deep stroke, slamming his hips entirely flat against yours.
“Take it, baby, let me make y’feel good…” he groaned, his tip shooting hot ropes of cum straight into your womb. Both of you whined as your insides clamped around him, and he stayed buried inside you as you both caught your breath.
He whimpered softly, letting your legs lay a little more comfortably, still spread—keeping his softening cock warm. He leaned down, kissing you messily, before dragging his mouth across your cheek and burying his face in your neck.
“‘M sorry, sweets,” he murmured.
“S—Sorry? For what…?”
“…Pissing you off.” He lifted his head to look at you.
You let out a lazy chuckle. “Keigo… come on.”
“No, baby, really. I was bein’… an ass. If something upset you that much, I should have… done something.”
“But.. I was complaining over stupid shit. I mean, I—I’m still… bothered… thinking of how she was acting, but—you were right. You can’t control what another person does.”
He leans down to kiss the corner of your mouth. “Doesn’t matter. If you’re upset about anything, I have to make you feel better.”
You breathed, accepting that he’d also accepted you’re in the right—though as soon as he pulled over you knew you were wrong. “Well… I do feel better.”
“Mhmmm?” he smiled at you before slowly slipping his length out of you, with a deep sigh from him, and an involuntary whine from you.
“Mm. Not anymore.” you huffed, with a weak giggle.
He grinned, before grabbing you by the waist and having you sit up. He pulled down your dress, fixed your hair (barely), then hauled your exhausted body on top of his chest. “Well… I told you I’d make you feel better, sweets.” he murmured into your hair. “Next time, though… you could just pull me to the car. Didn’t like people seeing us argue.”
“Uhmm… you’re the one who was hard the whole time—” You softly hit his chest.
“Ah, I believe you're the one who came to the back when I asked…” he raised a brow at you.
You squinted at him, thinking hard for a comeback—before muttering, “Shut up.”
“Yeah, yeah. I love you too.”
“I love you.” you hummed in his neck.
Your breathing slowed as you started to relax off in his arms, all that adrenaline finally leaving your system. The car windows were just now starting to clear up from the fog of your breath, letting the outside world creep back in.
You blinked, tracking the dark shadows outside.
“Wait.” you murmured against him.
“Hm?”
“Keigo…”—you lifted your head, squinting through the glass—“Get us out of this creepy ass garage, what the hell?”
He looked out the window too, before bursting out laughing. “Fuck, I forgot we were even—”
“You drove us here!”
“I had a lot on my mind!”
You groaned, rolling off of him with a heavy sigh as he climbed into the front seat. The car engine roared to life, the headlights cutting through the pitch black, sketchy lot.
“You’re staying back there?” he asked, looking into the rearview mirror as he put on his seatbelt.
“My legs are wrecked.”
“Right…right. Yeah, relax yourself sweets. You’ll be home before you know it.”
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. yall why was i lowkey getting angry as i was writing…LIKE??? no y’all might get annoyed with reader but i’m sitting here thinking… KEIGO… DO SOMETHING !!!?!? lmfao mind you i wrote it. also umm let’s just clarify they def went home he def runs a bath for you and cleans you up and everything i’m just too lazy to write that. anyway, all interactions are so very much appreciated! thank you for reading!!!!
cw ~ um, sort of a parasocial relationship..? man he’s a creep he’s a freak he’s a pervert i think you understand.
perverted!keigo who, the night after he meets you at that media gala, strokes his aching dick with the same hand he shook yours with, having no other choice since your expensive perfume decided to linger on him all the way into his home.
perverted!keigo who (that same night) dug deep to find out who you are because there’s no way you’ve been around and he hadn’t noticed you before. you’re the face of a brand that has been going viral recently simply because of you! you model their clothing, and seeing a pretty girl in an outfit makes people want to buy it too. thats how it is. so, of course, you got big because of your stunning face. atleast keigo didn’t have to be the only one obsessed… right…?
perverted!keigo who is really shocked by how he doesn’t regret a single thing. actually, soon noticing the way he jerks off more often, and how you’re the only thing that pops up into his mind during. before you, he’d jerk off to some weird… randomized… blurry woman, doing whatever he was horny about—her look hardly mattered rather than the actual act he was fantasizing about—but now it’s you. you, so clear in his mind, your soft glowing skin and those eyes that hypnotized him. easily, you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen in his life. and he’s seen a lot of women. so, can you blame him if he hardly knows how to act.. normal?
perverted!keigo who sees you again at a different event, unfortunately not being able to speak to you but somehow managing to grab a water bottle you forgot to throw out before leaving. the last droplets of water (that he convinces himself are mostly your spit) are dribbled against his tip that night, and his tongue pathetically licking around the top because your lipstick left a few stains.
perverted!keigo who changes his schedule as much as possible, now “coincidentally” seeing you more often than ever. along with stalking you on every social media app he could find you on… he knew you so, so much more than you knew him. he almost had to watch himself to not accidentally reveal he’d spent another night watching videos of you and about you. he’d learn about your habits and your inside jokes. for example, he found out about how you have an interesting… tendency.. to blurt out ‘oh, fuck me.’ when you’re irritated. yeah, he liked that very much.
perverted!keigo whose heart dropped when he saw you entering a crowded elevator with him, squishing yourself and (coincidentally?) ending up in the back with him. he watches your every expression, the way you quietly say “‘m sorry, hawks! i don’t mean to… be on top of you—” and giggle. he tries and fails to take that image out of his head—you on top of him, using him…
perverted!keigo who, during another event, swiftly steals a scarf of yours and ends up wrapping the entire thing around his dick until your scent is completely gone, the expensive fabric ruined by how much of his slick paints it. he only got the idea to do it because you were fidgeting with it the whole time, your soft hands rubbing the material between your fingers all night. he was almost jealous.
perverted!keigo who’s also convinced you want him just as badly as he wants you. he believes it’s been undeniable, since every time you see him you greet him so sweetly—‘hawks! i can’t believe we keep meeting like this,’—shaking his hand with both of yours like you meant to torture him with that addictive perfume the same way you did when you first met.
perverted!keigo who hardly ever thinks about you pleasuring him. of course, that’s a sexy fantasy too, but he can get painfully hard thinking about making you moan for him. shoving his face between your legs and sucking all over your pussy, feeling your hands grip his hair because it’s too much. his hands on your hips as you ride him slowly, listening to every quick breath and moan.
perverted!keigo who it’s gotten so bad for him he’s started to have to touch himself in the worst places. in his work building, sure—atleast there are private bathrooms there. during patrol? already bad. he lands on random rooftops, damn near falling off these buildings as he thinks about what your lips would feel like against his. how your tongue would taste.
perverted!keigo who gets so desperate he’d literally run off just minutes after speaking to you to tend to his throbbing dick. it’s just a certain way you say his name whenever you see him, like you’re so excited—with such a high pitch and a big smile on your face.
perverted!keigo who knows you cannot be this clueless. what were you thinking when you bumped into him, then put your hands on his chest and looked him in the eyes so cutely to apologize? what could you have been thinking when you mentioned him in an interview, saying you’re a big fan? i mean, you looked straight into the camera as you said it too. you’re playing with him. you have to be.
perverted!keigo who swears he’s… not! he promises himself it’s not only lust. you’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. he wants to take you out! then, yknow, eat your pussy and swallow your cum a few times..? he can be sweet to you. he will be sweet to you. he is! he’s not... perverted…
perverted!keigo who’s been touching himself to you so often for so long that as soon as he gets a notification from his phone, warmth quickly spreads down to his dick. pre can sometimes even drip from him already, just from that ding! hes (of course) gotten a second phone he uses just to stalk you, having all of your notifications on, so there’s no doubting it.
perverted!keigo who, when he finds out about what your company has planned for new years—shamelessly drops everything. he bails on a massive, mandatory hero gala by somehow convincing his team he’s sick and cannot make it. like indirectly speaking of the devil, as soon as he hangs up the phone, his second phone gets the notification from you posting on your story about the livestream tonight.
perverted!keigo who tunes into your company’s penthouse livestream, half and half celebrating new years and celebrating their quick growth as a brand. keigo’s eyes immediately track the way your tiny black dress hugs your body, your dark tights keeping him from seeing what he really wants but driving him insane anyway. he watches as you got progressively drunker, louder, looser—his tip twitching and leaking every time you giggle.
perverted!keigo who’s a wreck by thirty minutes, clothes long gone thrown across his room and panting as he watches you get close to the camera, your eyes low lidded as you silently read the chat. you lick your lips, just that motion making his hips buck into his hand, pre sliding down his shaft. “mmfghhh, my gorgeous girl…”
perverted!keigo who thanks your friends like they’re god by the ten minute mark. you’d been getting tired, and they shook you awake and forced you up to jump and dance around with them so everyone could get their energy back. keigo has to force his eyes not to roll back as he focuses in on the subtle bounce of your tits beneath your dress. it was unbelievably hard not to cum right there and then.
perverted!keigo whose hands shouldn’t be moving as quick as they are now. one minute until the new year. you’re right in front of the camera, all giggly and beautiful, starting to count down from thirty seconds as it hit. he grips so hard on his base it surprised him how good it still feels, the wet slaps of his hand and his sobbing moans of your name filling his room. he is close, but he has to wait. he needs to wait for you.
perverted!keigo whose eyes are glued to you despite the large group of people filling the camera. “five, four, three, two, one!”
“happy new year, baby!” he hears the words slip from your mouth. your friends are yelling other things as well, just almost frustrating him with how loud they were, but he hears you.
“hhaahh, fuck, b—baby…!?” he whines, his whole body in shock before hot ropes of cum are splurging from his tip. his orgasm comes in waves, his body continuously twitching as your words echo in his mind. he tries hard to keep watching you, but when you blow kisses to the screen he has to overstimulate himself, keeping a quick pace as he fucks his hand.
“ah, ‘m so sorry pretty… tried to be good,” he moans to you.
to make it clear, the entire reason he watched this live was just for that chance that you’d count down. count him down. have that control over him, deciding the moment he finally gets to cum to your gorgeous face.
you pushed him over the edge calling him baby, though… you’re such a tease!
he closes his eyes, and just like every time before, he could almost see you there with him. not touching him, just watching how pathetic he was for you.
his chest aches with how badly he wishes you were there.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. ty for reading!! also i’m realizing how much prettier the tiny text is ndjndndjd..
❀˖° kissing turns to something it’s never been before
• keigo takami x f!reader
cw ~ established relationship, smut (handjob), makeout sesh, inexperienced!hawks, sort of subby/switchy!hawks, pet names (baby, sweets)
word count 1.8k
You don’t know Keigo’s about to cum in his pants.
“Fuck, ‘m sorry…” he mumbled, but didn’t waste a second before pressing his lips to yours again. He apologized because his hands seemed to be gripping you too hard—at least by his standards—I mean… nobody but himself was repeating “be gentle, be gentle, be gentle” over and over in his head.
“Keigo...” you whispered between kisses. “Come on. Relax yourself.”
He could only whimper in response, feeling your hands rubbing against his neck as if to soothe him. It was really only making this worse for him.
This was new for the two of you, or more so… it had never been this intense.
You have a little routine. At midnight, during his patrol break, he stops by the rooftop of your apartment building just to spend some time with you.
At first it was relaxing for him. You were his short escape, and he’d take all the free time to hear about your day or whatever you wanted to talk about—completely avoiding talking about the hell he definitely went through before flying up there.
Over time, it changed. Still relaxing, of course, but it was still early in the relationship and the two of you were still… trying things out. What can you expect from a tired couple meeting at night on a rooftop?
You two had your first kiss up there, and Keigo was so tense. A real kiss too—not just a peck, your lips brushing for only a few seconds—a kiss. His hands curving against your waist for the first time, you cupping his face and the embarrassing groan he couldn’t hold back.
That became routine too. A goodbye kiss every night. Sure, it had him slacking as soon as he went back to work, but it was worth it.
So here he was, not on break but instead he left early. See, what had happened was you gave him that same goodbye kiss that ruins him every night—but it was something about the look in your eye this time.
Your eyes always glow in the night, but he couldn’t look away this time. You looked a little tired, low lidded as you smiled and waved at him. You had that sweet sleepy voice too. It made his whole chest warm, and it ached as he left.
Barely thirty minutes passed before he called, saying he’d wrapped up early and for you to come back up again.
“You’re sooo fucking pretty, baby…” his words were slurred and his eyes rolled back as you pressed kisses against his jaw.
He never knew he was this pathetic and sensitive, but maybe it was the effect you had on him.
His fingers twitched against your body. He wanted to hold you, but not too tight—and he had to focus to keep his grip in one spot. Not down, not up, just… right there on her waist…
Then you caught his wrist, guiding his hands down to your ass as you moved to kiss the other side of his jaw.
He breathed deeply, closing his eyes as he turned his face and caught your lips again. God, he needed you.
What he should be doing is trying to distract himself from the ache in his pants, but he was too greedy to stop kissing your soft lips. Especially not when you arched into him after he squeezed your ass, the sweetest little noises leaving your throat while you gripped his hair to pull him closer. How could he ever stop?
“Baby…” your voice came out low. “Hold me tight,” you whispered, reaching for his wrist and squeezing.
“Sweets…” He almost whined.
“Keigo…” you kissed the corner of his mouth, and he felt his dick twitch under his pants. “Baby, don’t be so nervous.” He could hear you almost chuckle, and he’d probably be embarrassed if he wasn’t so turned on.
“Not nervous,” he muttered between kisses. “Just—just careful.” he hissed as you gripped his hair harder for a second.
“You know—you don’t have to be careful with me.” you pulled away from him slightly, one of your hands sliding down his neck and chest. “I want you. Don’t you know that already?” you tilted your head up at him—then looked down and watched as your fingers caressed his body.
You felt his frantic heartbeat beneath your hand—and how his body was rising and falling from his heavy, uneven breaths.
“I want you too…” he groaned when your hand hesitated just above the painfully obvious bulge in his pants.
“You do?” you were going so slow. As if you knew.
“I do, baby, fuck…” finally, you palmed his dick—and his hips twitched into you instantly.
He ducked his head into your neck—which wasn’t much help when your scent drove him crazy too—then whined when you kissed him again. Slower than before, making his body heat up as he felt you suck on his tongue.
Now your hand was moving, simply rubbing against him—but god was that too much. He was already leaking through his boxers by now, and his hands trembled as he dragged them from your ass to your back. Pulling you in impossibly closer, really just to have more of your body against his throbbing length.
It didn’t help that the two of you were already against a wall, making it harder to hide how desperate he was as he searched for any sort of friction.
He couldn’t distract himself here either. He wanted to focus on it, focus on your body in his hands and the way you touched him and the way your tongue was warm and wet against his—but he could feel this building up inside of him.
Kissing him the way you were was enough to give him that throbbing boner, and it took an insane amount of self-control to not finish as soon as you touched him there—listen… he can only take so much.
That’s why, when you got curious and tugged on his waistband—he grunted, separated your lips, and hesitated before taking your wrist and leaving it there against his body.
“Y/N…” he closed his eyes and breathed. He shook his head, almost a smile on his face—like, “Fuck, I need to calm down”—before looking down at you. You looked a little confused, a little disappointed. Oh, so upsetting, you can’t stroke his dick. Fuck. If you saw his boxers now you’d probably think he already came.
“Do you…?” you mumbled, and hesitated. Want to stop? No, fuck no.
“No, baby, no, I’m just…” he closed his eyes again. He couldn’t even find the words, and if he did he wouldn’t have the balls to tell you.
You tugged on his shirt, and he met those needy eyes of yours. He bit his lip and just nodded.
You were slow again, your hand going underneath his boxers, his dick twitching again. You gasped lightly, feeling the heat and the way he was seriously… rock hard.
“Oh, fuck…” he groaned against you, trying to keep his hips from bucking into your hand. His dick, on the other hand—on your hand—was a twitching mess. You curled your fingers around the base, feeling a string of pre slide down. He watched your breathing pick up, both your bodies almost in sync—rising and falling.
You gripped him, dragging your hand up his length, and he was fucked. He moaned in your ear, his wings pushing him slightly forward as they stretched out so suddenly.
Your thumb twitched against his tip. He couldn’t look at you every time he tried he caught your eyes just staring back at his, trying to watch his reactions—and every time it was a full body wave of pleasure. Just from your eyes on him.
“Baby…” he whimpered.
“You like being touched like this?” you murmured, your thumb catching the bead of pre at his tip, dragging it down as you stroked him.
“Yes—Fuck, yes, so fuckin’ good…” his hands on you shifted from gripping you, then letting go as soon as he catches himself doing it.
His dick was a hot, throbbing mess in your hand, jumping every time your palm rubbed against him. He was producing so much pre it was all over your hand by this point, lubing him up too fucking good.
Even with the city noises surrounding you two, you could hear just how sloppy he was. Every stroke back down making a squelching noise that his wings had a reaction to each time.
“Look at me, Kei,” you whispered, pumping near the tip.
His eyes rolled back at the sound of your voice, and as soon as he looked at your face—the way you smirked at him, biting your lip…
“Oh fuck, Y/N—I’m—“
He couldn’t even finish the sentence, letting out a ragged cry that he tried and failed to keep down. That was just enough for him. The seductive, knowing look in your eyes. He bucked into your hand, fucking the orgasm out as his hot ropes of cum covered your hand. Oh, and your arm. And the ground. And his shirt…
He came a lot. He stood there for a moment, whimpering over your shoulder as his dick jumped in your sticky hands. His wings, now completely stretched and covering the two of you like a cocoon.
Slowly, after a quiet moment of him catching his breath and when you tantalizingly slid your hand from his cock—he lifted his head, seeing your hand, and seeing the mess, and now processing what just happened.
“Oh, shit—Baby, I—“ he took a small step back, then dug in all of his pockets for anything he could clean you up with. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—I mean, I—I knew I was close… but—“
“Baby, it’s fine—“ you huffed a chuckle, searching your pocket with your free hand and pulled out a thin napkin. Good enough.
His hands shook, but he quickly snatched a bunch of tissue out his back pocket, cleaning your arm thoroughly.
“Kei, why do you even have an entire stash of tissue in your—“
“Baby, I’m sorry—I didn’t think it… would… be so much—“ he couldn’t look you in the eyes as he scrubbed your arm, wanting to get every drop as if it was acid on your skin.
“Kei,” you giggled. “You’re gonna… give me a rash—or something, it’s fine. You got most of it, and I’ll just take a shower.” You caught his wrist, tilting your head to him.
He groaned, the embarrassment hitting him now.
“Don’t say sorry again,” you warned.
He clenched his jaw, holding in that very apology that was about to slip past his lips. “Okay…” he breathed, his voice cracking.
“You… you just…” his brows furrowed.
You sighed, lifting your free hand and cupping his cheek, dragging him down for a soft kiss. “Relax, please?” you mumbled. “It’s fine, babe.”
Your hand slides to his hair. “It was… cute.”
He groaned, cringing at himself. “You trying to make me feel better, or?”
“Yes. I am.” you playfully pulled on his hair, before wiping some remaining mess on his shirt. “You’re coming down?” you said, looking toward the door to the stairs.
“Oh, no, I’ll fly around with cum stains on my pants.” he spoke with a sarcastic tone and gave you a look, but then laughed as he walked with you.
“Stupid.” you nudged him, before walking in front and pushing the door open.
“Come on. If you’re so embarrassed, won’t you come redeem yourself?”
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. hello !!! thank you for reading!!! i’m proudly spreading switchy kei propaganda. sorry.. listen,,, i like him clueless at first and then learning all the ways to make you feel goodddhsjshdjbdj but he must be an inexperienced sensitive mess first ! i also don’t.. know if the end implies a part two..? idk if this gets any attention n someone wants it i could get to work.. i could…
Having been sold off to the Hero Public Safety Commission from a young age, you've been told what to do your entire life. Luckily for you, you had your best friend—Keigo Takami—by your side. But all of that changes after making the reckless decision to kiss him in your too-small bed.
Content Warnings: angst, smut and fluff, bestfriends to lovers to rivals to rivals with benefits to lovers, don't take the rivals part too serious, semi-public sex (on top of a high-rise, in front of a window and in a changing room), unprotected & protected p in v sex, creampies, fingering, oral (f and m receiving), implied loss of virginity on both sides, multiple orgasms, squirting, a fuckton of hurt, yearning, misunderstandings, fuck the HPSC and their parents, petty games, reader has a quirk, hurt/comfort, inaccurate timeline (Iknow iknow), pierced Keigo!!!
word count: 22.7k
A/n: I'm so happy I found my drafts of this fic that I made somewhere late last year. The first 1.5k were made last year and I finally decided to expand on it for the Hawks lovers. Art on the left by @/melwakame on x & art on the right by @/kadeart on x. Divider by @/cafekitsune
laying side by side on the way too small bed, especially accounting for the crimson wings that are bigger than the bed itself, you find yourself staring into those golden eyes, close enough that you can see the specks of amber in them.
One of the wings is draped over you, crimson feathers twitching every so often, as if whispering against your skin.
Keigo is retelling a story he overheard from one of the handlers. Giggles fill the room, quiet but genuine.
If either one of your handlers found you two, side by side, in the same room, socializing, you two would be dead. Figuratively (…you hope).
They would call it an distraction, the two perfect weapons as they call you two, talking about life beyond the walls of the life they carved out for you. The prison that your parents sold you off to when you two were younger with sweet smiles and promises that only benefited those who failed you.
The walls here—in this cramped room, bare, save for a bed and a dresser—seem brighter. Not literally, everywhere you look it’s the same industrial gray walls and even floors. No colors, not even floorboards, just concrete.
No personal touch, because that would mean you have something of your own, and they can’t have that. No, your lives belong to them, those who pretend to guide heroes. No it seems brighter because of him.
You scoot a little closer to Keigo, not that there is any space left on the bed. In here its just Keigo and you not the names the Commission gave you, names that you didn’t even choose yourself but were assigned to you two the moment you got sold off. All sense of self being stripped away.
Well they certainly tried to, but that didn’t stop you and Keigo from becoming friends when younger, best friends even. Sneaking off together to have some time for yourselves.
At age 8 he gave you one of his small feathers, alive, twitching, and more importantly, able to pick up your heartbeat if you were to press it to your chest. So I know you're still with me he said with a toothy grin on his face.
It has been there, under your Hero Commission issued gear, for the past 9 years. Not the exact same feather obviously. They ‘rotate’ every few days, because his feathers die out if he detaches them for too long.
The room falls quiet, the weight of silence settling around you. It takes a heartbeat too long to realize that Keigo has stopped speaking. Looking up again you see him looking at you with concern written over his face, thumb brushing over your hip—when did it get there?
“You okay there, dove? You spaced out for some time,” his voice softens when he says ‘dove’, like the nickname holds more than just teasing now. And your heart, the traitorous thing it is, beats a little faster at it.
He grins, small, boyish and a little shy. Of course he could feel that, the feather still pressed over the spot where your heart is, but he could probably also feel it with the way your chest is pressed up against his.
You hope he can’t see your cheeks flush (he can, damn him and his good eyes even though it’s dark inside), and just nod once. “Mm. ‘Was just thinking about the time you lost your tooth because you flew into a wall.” Liar, you were thinking if it would still be like this if the commission gave you two more time for yourselves.
Sometimes you wonder if what you feel is love, being in love with your best friend, what a classic trope. But then you push that thought aside, quickly, like it's dangerous. You can’t afford to let yourself want that.
You two are seventeen years old, getting groomed to be the perfect weapons the commission wants you to be. You know if you were to fantasize about it, they would strip it away in the blink of an eye. No, you can’t be in love with Keigo, for it would only end in heartbreak.
Within a second your world tilts. You're now laying on Keigo’s chest, him laying flat on his back, one of his wings dangling off the bed, the other draped over you. The wing twitches slightly, brushing against you as if it’s trying to reassure you, but it only makes your heart race a little faster. Both his arms wrapped around your waist.
“Liar,” he says with a grin on his, stupidly handsome, face. “C’mon dove, tell me. You can tell me anything, you know that right?” The sincerity on his face makes you move your mouth before even realising it.
You gulp once “I was just thinking about what life would be like outside these walls. What our lives would look like. If you—” you trail off, looking to the side, to the same industrial gray wall you’ve seen all your life, not daring to meet his eyes when telling him the next part.
“If you would still be here, with me,” you finish your thought in a whisper, and the room feels heavier somehow, the silence wrapping around you like a blanket.
You hear him sigh before his hand comes up to cup your face, gentle, as if you’re made of glass. You feel yourself melt into his hand slightly, before you catch yourself. His thumb brushes against your cheekbone, an action so soft compared to the actions they’d made him do just earlier today.
His voice is quiet, barely above a whisper, when he finally speaks, “Yeah, dove. I’d still be here. With you.”
His words make your face heat up under his hand. Words are stuck in your throat, because it shouldn’t be like this, the two of you can’t be like this. Still, you look at him, first at his eyes, filled with pure adoration, and then that traitorous part of your brain—your heart really—looks at his lips for a heartbeat too long before ripping your gaze upwards again. Shit.
You can only hope he didn’t notice, but of course you're not that lucky. His soft smile, turns into a teasing, smug one that still has hints of softness underneath. You feel his thumb move down to your jaw. His gaze half-lidded now.
A whisper in the back of your mind warns you of the danger, of how you two shouldn’t do this. There are only seven more months until you two get sent off into ‘the real world.’ Just seven, and then your lives would change, no longer living inside these gray, sterile, walls.
“You’re right, we shouldn’t, dove,” Keigo speaks out, startling you, quickly looking up at him again—when did you look away? Did you say that out loud? You don’t know, all you know is that you’re warm, Keigo’s wing still draped over you, feathers whispering against your skin like soft little love notes, his chest steady and warm underneath you, hearts syncing to the same beat.
Still, you slowly start closing the distance between the two of you, murmuring a “We really shouldn’t.” His head lifts from the pillow, one last whisper, before meeting you halfway “We’re not doing anything.”
The first brush of his lips steals your breath, a clumsy meeting of warmth and want. He tastes like something sweet and sharp, adrenaline and something softer hidden underneath. His wing tightens around you, pulling you closer until you can’t tell where you end and he begins.
It’s desperate in the quietest way—the kind of kiss you give when you’ve both spent your whole lives being told you can’t have this. His hand finds the back of your neck, thumb tracing small, grounding circles there, and you think you could drown in the feel of it.
When you finally pull back, the world feels different. Brighter, maybe. Dangerous, definitely. But you’d do it again in a heartbeat.
Your eyes flutter open, looking straight into Keigo’s. Lips a bit red and swollen, drawing your attention to them once again. There’s a slight flush on his face, creeping down his neck and disappearing into his Commission issued shirt.
Hands tighten in the fabric, his wing still tight around you, the little feathers puffed up a bit on your back. He pulls you up a bit more, nosing along your jawline. “We shouldn’t do anything more often,” he murmurs against your skin.
You laugh, small and breathy. It skims across his face like a gentle breeze, making him think of the clouds he sometimes flies through when the Commission lets him out—only for him to do his mission, which most of the time involves something teenagers shouldn’t be even thinking of doing.
“We really shouldn’t.” with that you capture his lips again, stealing his breath—and heart—once more. Eyelashes fluttering against cheekbones, tongues entangling a bit more expertly now, but still awkward. Noses keep bumping into each other, and you exhale a laugh into his mouth. You feel him smile in return before he tightens his hold on you once more.
The rest of the time together is spent like that, adrenaline filling the both of you. This shouldn’t be happening, you shouldn’t even entertain the thought of kissing someone, much less Keigo—or Hawks, as they call him here.
He shouldn’t even be in your room right now, having snuck out of his own earlier that evening. How the two of you haven’t been caught over the years is beyond you, but then again, the two of you aren’t perfect weapons for nothing.
By the time you pull away from him—still close enough to feel and hear his heartbeat beneath you, feel the way his chest rises and falls with every breath—it’s way past the time he normally sneaks back into his own room.
“You should probably go,” you whisper, and his eyes are still on you—on the way your hair is a bit messy now with the way he was running his hands through it. On the way your lips are red and kiss-bitten. On the way your cheeks are almost as red as his wings. “You’re already later than normal.”
And oh, how he wishes he can just stay here, in the same bed as you, wrap his around around you and fall asleep with your head on his chest. But that isn’t reality, is it? The two of you are still in this mindless dungeon your parents sold you off to. Industrial gray fills his vision when he looks around your room once more. The only thing that makes it seem brighter is you—even if what you’re wearing doesn’t have any color in it.
He’s been thinking about this moment for years. Just being alone with you, having you all to himself, away from the watchful eyes of the Commission. He’d buy an apartment for the two of you, living together to save expenses.
Of course he’d have to feed the Commission some bullshit lie about the two of you working better together. Team building isn’t something they’re fond of, but with the right twist of words he can definitely work something out to keep you close to him.
But for now he knows he should go back to his room. Be mindful of the handful of handlers that sometimes walk through the hallways—always watching, except for when they’re not. He’s memorised their routines. How many steps each handler takes. When they do their rounds. Knows the way the camera’s are angled, and how to avoid them.
He knows, but still he can’t seem to let go of you. His hands on your hips, tracing small, invisible shapes into your skin. He surges forward once more, giving you a small peck this time. “Goodnight, dove.”
“Goodnight, Kei,” you whisper back, before pushing yourself off him so he can get out of the room. He glances back toward you one more time, feathers angled towards you like they’re reaching out, before he dips out of your room and towards his own.
Rolling over you bury your face into the pillow and let out a small squeal—one of the only feelings you let yourself feel while inside of this building. It’s so unlike you, so unlike the person the Commission wants you to be. But you can’t help it.
And then you feel it, under your shirt, pressed over your heart—Keigo’s feather. The one he keeps on you to make sure you’re safe. It wiggles a few times before sliding up and slipping out of your neckline. Right, he can hear you. Huffing through your nose you look at it hovering right in front of you. “What?”
The feather shudders slightly, as if laughing. Dickhead. Then it moves towards your face and taps you on your nose once—a small gesture Keigo loves to do when you’re frowning, and now apparently when you’re squealing, too—before it brushes feather-soft over your lips and disappears into your shirt once more.
Rolling your eyes you finally situate yourself in the bed. But your smile never leaves your face, and even in your sleep you can still feel fingers and feathers all over you.
The next few weeks are spent tense. No secret glances, no lingering touches, no acknowledgement that you and Hawks know each other as more than just two perfect weapons in the making. There are handlers constantly watching the two of you, so if your gaze would fall onto him a second too long, they’d know something is off.
Inside of these concrete walls you cannot show your true emotions, face blank at all times of the day, despite you wanting to reach out and hold Keigo.
You’re not sure what the two of you are right now—except for children that are being groomed by those who are supposed to protect heroes—as you haven’t had a chance to talk to him about it yet. There have been no more talks in your bedroom.
But every time you walk past him, that one small feather at your ribcage wiggles just slightly. A small acknowledgement that he’s seen you, that he can still feel and hear you, despite not being there with you.
It’s harder than you expected it to be. Never in your life would you’ve thought that you’d share a kiss with the boy you’ve spent most of your life with. And never in your life would you have thought you’d come to the conclusion that you are, in fact, in love with said boy.
That doesn’t mean you haven’t talked to him, though. Well… talked is a big word, it’s mostly you who did the talking while he would hover his small feather in front of you, sometimes tapping on your skin if he agreed or disagreed with something. It was a small language the two of you had configured when younger.
A smile threatens to take over your face, before you smooth it over and look ahead again. Your handler is walking behind you—an older woman in her fifties—hands clasped behind her back, clipboard in hand, her heels click click clicking on the linoleum floor below, suit crisp, not a single wrinkle in sight. Her expression schooled—the same way yours is, and everyone else’s in this entire building.
Another set of footsteps can be heard from the other side of the hallway, one a bit more lax, and the other right on their heel. You know that gait anywhere. Hawks.
The two of you walk past each other and bow your heads towards one another. Custom, something they drilled into you. There’s nothing to be seen in his golden eyes, not a glimpse of emotion, nor can it be found in yours.
His birthmarks seem darker in these lights, almost as if they had filled them in with an even darker shade of black before he had to train. You’re sure people will think that it’s simply eyeliner, when it’s not.
One of the little kids here—around six—had asked him if it was, and he’d laughed at them. Small but genuine. It was one of the only times he’s ever shown emotion outside of your room, and it made your heart flutter inside of your ribcage. Something that didn’t go unnoticed by the blond, whose feathers puffed up behind him a little.
The footsteps disappear behind you, indicating that Hawks and his handler are away from earshot, which makes your own handler finally speak up. She talks about quirk swapping the kids, aged ten to fourteen. There are only four in total—seven children in the program, including you and Keigo—but they need to know what it’s like to not fight with their own quirk.
It’s your quirk, being able to swap quirks of others. The first time you told Keigo that, he absolutely lit up and asked you if you could swap quirks with him, which you did without a second thought. You’d warned him it meant he didn’t have a quirk, at all, but he just beamed and told you he wanted to see his wings on you.
Seven year old you had done so after confirming he really was okay with it. When he nodded, you focused and swapped them around. Crimson wings sprouting from your back, while Keigo’s disappeared. It went fine for all but 2 seconds, then it went wrong.
Keigo was so used to his wings, he instinctively leaned forward to keep balance. Without his wings, he toppled forward, center of gravity having shifted, no longer being dragged back by his wings. You in the meantime fell backwards, the heavy wings dragging you down, not having braced for the extra weight you’d be carrying on your back.
Keigo landed on top of you, while you landed on one of your—technically Keigo’s—wings. Pain shot through your spine, and up your skull. Tears pricking at your waterline, and one even slid down your temple and disappeared into your hair.
And then came the noise. It was as if everything was tuned up to the max—you could hear the buzz of electricity in the ceiling lights, keypads, electric doors. Could hear your own heartbeat, blood rushing through you, the sound of the feathers twitching behind your back. And you could even hear his heartbeat and blood rushing through him.
Putting your hands to your ears you tried blocking everything out, but it didn’t help. You could hear everything around you, even when you curled up in a ball.
The boy above you was touching your shoulder, speaking, but even that felt like it was too loud—not registering the words he was desperately trying to tell you. You laid on that floor for what seemed like hours, crying about everything being too loud.
It was only when Keigo started whispering, so soft no one else would’ve heard, that you finally heard what he was saying. ‘Swap it back. Give me my wings back and it’ll be fine.’ And you did just that. The red plumes disappearing behind you and reappearing behind their rightful owner.
“Sorry, I should’ve warned you,” Keigo’s voice was trembling a bit, fingers wiping under your eyes to rid them of their tears. “I forgot. I’m used to it now.”
That made your heart stutter a bit. That’s what he hears at all times? It wasn’t something you accounted for. You’ve seen his quirk in action—flying, though it was more hovering in place, and him controlling th individual feathers to slice through objects with precision it scared you—but you never actually asked what it did.
“That’s what you hear all the time?” you breathed out, fingers trembling slightly beside you. Keigo nodded his head, his golden curls bouncing with the motion. The two of you are silent for a bit before you finally spoke up again, “I’m sorry you have to hear all of that.”
He merely shrugged, as if this was normal. As if it’s normal to be able to hear footsteps the floors down. To hear the electricity travel through appliances. To hear your own blood pump through you. And it made little you so incredibly sad. While it’s quiet in the building, it is still loud for him. You always thought it was eerie with how abandoned the building seemed—not because it was falling apart or because there was ivy growing everywhere, but because of how empty it was inside. But for him every single thing is noise.
You’d pulled him into a hug right then and there, and whispered in his ear that you’d talk to him if he ever felt lonely. He merely smiled at you and returned the hug. Just two weapons in training that found solace in each other.
The kids inside the facility, despite being older than you and Keigo were at the time, still remind you of the two of you. The first time you swap their quirks around, they all look confused, still used to how they fight with their own quirk, only to quickly realise they have to adapt.
On one hand it’s a good lesson, you’d never know when you’d lose your quirk during a battle, on the other hand it’s absolutely disgusting that they’re practicing this on barely teens.
You keep swapping quirks around once they get used to how the new quirk feels, just to throw them off. It’s not something you do with great pleasure, but you can’t exactly go against whatever your handler assigns you to do.
It’s something you’ve tried before, only to be put in solitary confinement for a week. In there they still had you practice all sorts of things, but you just didn’t get to be around people anymore. You still shudder every time you think of the place.
Once the handler deems the exorcise to be enough for the kids—almost two whole hours later—you get steered out of the room, onto your next assignment.
“Since you and Hawks are about to debut in a few months, we need to make sure the two of you are desensitized, him moreso than you,” she flips through the papers on her clipboard, occasionally nodding her head at something that’s written down. “You’ll have to act like fans without boundaries. There will be other people pulling him into every direction. Just make sure he doesn’t sharpen his feathers.”
With that she pushes the door open, and in the middle of the room stands Keigo—or Hawks, right now—his red wings spread out into a brilliant arc, showing off all the way from the primaries down to the dowry feathers he has.
His handler is checking his wings, ensuring the strength and health of them, twisting and turning some pieces, and tugging on others. You know he hates that. Hates anyone that touches his wings, except for you. It’s something he’s told you since the two of you were young, said it hurt with how they disregarded the fact that he could feel whenever people touched his feathers, as sensitive as nerve endings.
It took him a while to trust you enough to let the pad of your finger skim over one of the primaries while they were in their half-sharp state. He wasn’t sensitized enough to let you touch his feathers when they were in their resting state just yet, but he did trust you enough that he at least let you touch them. Ever since that moment he started trusting you more and more, to a point where you can now preen him without any problems.
He’s fallen asleep once, when you were preening him after a brutal day. They had him run simulations all day long—fly through rubble and falling buildings, soot and smoke clinging to his feathers turning the brilliant velvet into ash. He had to save hundreds, if not thousands of dummies that were stuck in the wrecks—to a point where the skin at the base of his wings were inflamed.
You’d wanted to trace the skin, soothe it somehow, but you thought better of it. He’d snuck out of his room later that day to get into yours, and the moment you saw him you patted the limited space beside you on the bed.
He’d all but flopped onto the bed with a groan, telling you about how much his wings were hurting him. It’s not something the two of you did often—complain to each other—but after particularly hard days you just had to vent to someone, and who better than your best friend.
So you’d combed your fingers through his wind-swept hair, untangling the obvious knots in them. Sometimes you accidentally tugged on a strand a bit too hard, but he didn’t complain about it even once; merely sighed out into your duvet and kept talking about whatever his mind could conjure up.
At some point your fingers slid down to his wings, and you’d started to carefully preen him. While his wings were cleaner now, there were still some stubborn pieces of soot clinging to them—something you yourself couldn’t get off with just your hands—but that wasn’t something you were after. No, you just carefully started to put every feather into their rightful place, sometimes that meant twisting the feather at the base a bit, and other times that meant getting rid of the keratin casings on the newer feathers.
You weren’t sure when, but somewhere when you switched to preen his other wing, he’d stopped talking and his breath had evened out, eyes fluttering shut. Smiling you continued to preen him.
The sight of the handler tugging on some of the feathers makes you more mad than you should be. Not that you can show it, though. If someone were to suspect anything going on between you and Hawks, you were in some deep shit, whether it be just surface-level friendship, or something deeper. So you swallow and steel your expression.
Your own handler gives a squeeze at your elbow before she leaves the room to go to the monitor room. Once Keigo’s handler steps back, he nods once and walks past you, thrusting a piece of paper and a pen into your hand.
With that, the two of you are left alone. Well… you know there are tens of pairs of eyes upon the two of you, watching, waiting.
And then the simulation starts. A pro hero walks beside Hawks, chatting. The entire room transforms into that of a city, cars buzzing past, people leaving little shops—just a normal day in a city. Not that you and Keigo really know what that looks like.
If you were gonna do this, you could at least have some fun with it. Inhaling, you put a smile on your face, before absolutely squealing. “OH. MY. GOD. IS THAT HAWKS?!”
The simulation responds. People stop on the sidewalk, looking back at ‘the two heroes’, cars slow down slightly. And then you move. Fast. You cross the sidewalk in no time, getting all up in Hawks’ space.
“You’re my favorite hero! I can’t believe I get to meet you— can I get an autograph?” you gush, not giving him a moment to respond before thrusting the pen into his face and holding out the paper the handler gave you.
Hawks, for his part, just smiles, and it makes your heart beat a little faster—something he can definitely hear. “Of course, what’s your name?”
You mumble out a random name before your hand shoots out toward his wing. “These are so cool. And so soft! Do you think I can get one?” You tug on his feathers a bit forcefully, not going as hard as you probably should for the assignment, but you also don’t wanna hurt him.
There’s a slight bristle from his feathers before he smooths them over again. Keigo just chuckles at you, signing your piece of paper before giving back the pen. “Ah, sorry, no can do. Wish I could, though.” He winks over at you before he gets absolutely hoarded by other people—fake or not, they still feel real.
The rest of the day is spent like that, you throwing your arms around him, tugging on his feathers, squealing and screaming. Anything and everything to show the handlers that he’s sensitized enough to be able to walk outside without any problem.
Once the two of you are done, your handler pulls you aside. “We’re gonna run another simulation. Tomorrow. Your turn.”
Right, because they have to know if you’re good enough to swap quirks with him if needed. Luckily the two of you have practiced that many times after the first time.. The Commission telling you that no one else should ever get their hands on his wings, except for you. If he ever loses too many feathers during a fight, you have to jump in and swap quirks. You’ll get his feathers while you give him one of the quirks from the fight—leaving one of the villains Quirkless.
So they have to know you don’t completely shut down in an environment like that. Which you get, but it’s still annoying as fuck.
By the time your handler lets you go, Keigo is already gone. Probably towards his own room for the night. It’s only when you walk past a supply closet that an hand encloses around your wrist and tugs you into it.
The first thing you do is try to twist whoever’s arm it is behind them, but you’re quickly spun around. Your back hits the door with a thud, one hand is covering your mouth while the other is on your hip. “Shhhh, dove, it’s just me.”
Your hands fall to your sides. Blinking a few times your vision sharpens enough to see Keigo’s silhouette. “Fucking hell, Hawks, what are you doing?” you hiss at him once he removes his hand from your mouth. Keigo just smiles at you, small, but dangerous. “What, you think you can just touch me all day without driving me absolutely crazy?”
Right, you did do that, but that was for the assignment. Trying to get an reaction out of him. So what if your fingers skimmed over his most vulnerable parts—the base joints near his shoulder blades—that was all for the assignment, of course.
“You can’t just pull me into a storage closet, what if someone saw us?” you ask him, still not moving from where you’re pressed against the door. “No one saw us, and the camera’s have a dead spot here.”
Damn him and his smart brain. His thumb is tracing small circles on your hipbone, while his other hand creeps up to cup your jaw. Your own arms enclose around his neck, fingers playing with the hairs at his nape.
He surges forward, lips crashing against yours in a frenzy. You kiss him back just as eager. It’s been weeks since the last kiss, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss him.
“Missed you,” he mumbles against your lips, nose bumping into yours when he angles his head a bit. “Missed you, too.”
His wing wraps itself around you, feathers whispering against your skin over the fabric. They tremble slightly while your tongues entangle, puffing up slightly in affection he can’t hide.
A string of saliva connects the two of you when you pull away from him. It snaps a second later, leaving your lips shiny and slightly swollen. His aren’t any better, small teeth indentations on his bottom lip from where you pulled it between your teeth.
His forehead drops to yours, eyes halflidded and hazed over a little. Your breaths mingling, but mouths not touching any longer. Your chest rises and falls against his, heartbeats syncing, before it stutters once he looks at you like that—pure adoration filling his eyes.
“Hated not being able to see you for so long,” his voice is breathy, a slight groan pulling from his chest when your finger wraps around one of his locks of hair. “Heard you, though.”
And he did. You talked to him almost every night, but that doesn’t make up for the fact that he wasn’t there in person with you.
“Only five more months,” you reply. Five more months before the two of you are finally free from this prison they keep you in. Those industrial gray walls you’ve seen almost your entire life. The slightly cold rooms that keep you on edge constantly. “Just five before we can get out of here.”
Keigo just smiles at you, not replying with words, but rather by pressing his lips to yours once more. It’s quiet and full of love. “Then let’s endure them and we can finally stop sneaking around like this, love.”
The nickname has you blinking a few times. Maybe it was a slip of the tongue, ‘dove’ and ‘love’ are so similair, after all. But your cheeks heat up all the same. Nodding your head you peck his lips once more before finally letting go of him.
He steps back slightly, fingers lingering on your hip before retracting completely. You twist the doorknob before looking over your shoulder and smiling slightly. With that you leave him in the supply closet, alone.
Keigo presses his forehead against the door for a few moments to let his heart calm down. He didn’t think he would miss you so damn much, but after that once kiss the two of you shared weeks ago, he hasn’t been able to think of anything but you.
Cursing he runs his hands through his hair once, before opening the door and slipping out. Wings dragging behind him like a cape that holds every little sign of affection he’s had for you since the first day he saw you.
It’s only a few days later when Keigo comes to your room again. You honestly hadn’t expected him today. They’d sent him out on a mission that from the looks of it, was going to take all day, if not all night. But here he is, standing in your door opening.
Sitting up you pat the space beside you, inviting him in like you always do. He crosses the room quickly to go sit beside you. His fingers are playing with each other—a small habit you haven’t seen him do often—while he looks at everything but you.
“You okay?” you ask, your hand reaching for his shoulder, only for him to jerk away before you can touch him. Blinking a few times you let your hand fall back beside you. “Hey, what’s going on?”
He takes a deep breath in, stops fiddling with his fingers, and looks you straight into the eyes. You get slightly lost in everything that they are—golden with those amber specs in them, all predator when he narrows them—before you shake your head slightly.
“I think we should stop seeing each other,” he states, still holding eye contact with you. And you can feel your heart drop to your stomach. Freezing slightly, everything around you seems to slow down—the way you’re breathing, the slight electral buzz that’s always there in the walls somehow feels muffled and distant, hell even Keigo looks far away.
“What?”
“It’s just not going to work. Not with the way the Commission is always on our asses. And- and I don’t think I really have feelings for you,” he vomits the words out like they’re acidic, burning his tongue if they don’t leave fast enough.
It doesn’t compute for a second. The words sound foreign. As if some random stranger came up to you and told you the sky was purple. “I- what? But what about the five months? You said we only had to wait for five more months before we could stop sneaking around.”
Keigo just shakes his head, standing up from your bed. The distance between the two of you feels greater than it actually is, as if there’s a canyon between the two of you, whereas you two were normally all up in each others’ space.
“Just… don’t. This is better. For the both of us.” With that he starts walking toward the door. You feel under your shirt for the red plume that’s pressed to your ribs.
“Then take this back,” you spit towards him, throwing the feather in his direction without a care. He picks it up before slipping out the door, just as quietly as he came in.
When you hear the door click shut behind him, you let yourself fall back onto the thin matrass, staring up at the cold ceiling. There’s this quake in your chest you refuse to acknowledge.
Almost twelve years. Almost twelve years of knowing the boy with his crimson wings. Almost eleven years of being friends. Ten of being ‘best friends’. And yet, two months of being more than best friends, and everything crumbled.
You knew. You knew the friendship you and Keigo built was based on a house of cards, one wrong move and everything would collapse, but never did you think the collapse would look like this—like him being the one pushing the house to collapse.
All those smiles and giggles. All those memories made in corners the Commission could never reach. And now it’s all gone.
All because you let yourself fall in love with your best friend.
The next few months are a hell on earth—not that you weren’t used to it by now, but it’s definitely different not having Keigo by your side. You pushed yourself into assignments more and more; any free time you did have was spent asking for more assignments, or just training in general.
You couldn’t dare to sit in your own room, forced to sit in the silence that feels more suffocating than ever. The walls still carry the laughter. Still carry the gentle warmth Keigo somehow left behind, almost as if his feathers spanned the walls, feather-soft to the touch.
Whenever you’re in your room you just stare blankly at the ceiling, listening to the buzz of the electrics around you. There was one time you had your pillow clutched to your chest, unable to sleep, because you kept seeing golden eyes staring back at you. Crimson wings touching your skin, and those unruly tufts of wind-swept hair.
The pillow still faintly smelled like him at that point, and you tried so hard not to bury your nose into it and inhale like your life depended on it. You were so lost in thought, trying—and failing—not to think about him, that you startled when you felt something prick into your chest.
Moving the pillow you felt something soft brush over your skin, something that felts suspiciously much like a feather. Heart pounding in your chest you ripped the pillow from your chest, hoping to see that familiar crimson plume you threw back at him in a fit of anger, only to see a singular, sad white feather.
Right, pillows are filled with feathers.
Your hands were shaking when you picked it up, swallowing around the lump in your throat, you laid it under your pillow, which you put under your head again. It was something you couldn’t explain, but it just felt right to keep it there, with you.
It’s still under your pillow, even now—almost five months later. Sometimes you pick it up and twirl it around in your finger, watching the way it droops down like it’s sad. And with the right imagination you can imagine it being red, but even when you do that you know it isn’t his.
His feathers were a little harder, not fanned out as much. They were sturdy and so brilliantly red, you couldn’t imagine it being his.
Despite that you still held onto it like it was worth anything more than it actually was. Sometimes you put it under your shirt while you slept, waking up with an itch, almost as if reminding you it shouldn’t be there. Other times you just… talked.
But this feather doesn’t respond to what you’re saying. Doesn’t hover in front of you, shuddering with laughter when you say something stupid. Doesn’t tap your nose or skin in agreement. It’s just there, clutched between your thumb and index finger.
You sometimes wonder if he misses you as much, but then quickly push the thought away. He broke it up for a reason, so you can’t let yourself go down that route.
Whenever you saw him in the hallways, you didn’t look at him. Didn’t nod like you used to, just stared blankly ahead. Teeth clenched, hands balled, leaving small indents on your palms.
He didn’t look at you, either. Always staring ahead. Hand in his pockets while avoiding eye contact. While the two of you never lingered on each other, there were some glances. Now it’s like the two of you are merely strangers.
So no, you wouldn’t admit you miss him, because he’s clearly doing fine without you. The Commission’s golden boy. Now getting even more praise. You hear it from the ‘kids’ all the time—missions he went on, the absolute control he has over his quirk, anything and everything.
You tune everything they say about him out. Never listening too much about what they’re saying. Not the handlers, not the kids.
The two of you had a mission together two weeks ago, which went… okay. Hawks did most of the work, to be completely honest. Something about not needing you there. It honestly stung when he said that, but you pushed the feeling away, merely telling him he could do whatever he wanted. Which he did.
You’d gotten reprimanded about not participating, while Hawks got all the praise. He’d looked over at you with a smirk on his face—not the one he used to give you, no this one was radiating smugness from him—and you wanted to punch it clean off his stupidly handsome face.
Now it’s time for you to step out into the real world. The Commission had gotten you your own agency with a few sidekicks in the Sendai district, while they had sent Hawks to Kyushu—the other side of the country.
You weren’t sure how to feel about that, feelings conflicting in a tight knot inside your chest. On one hand you were glad he wasn’t with you, on the other hand you felt sad because the two of you had dreamed of running an agency together, or at least close enough to each other that you two would be able to frequently see each other.
And with the way the Commission had sent you out on missions together from when you were younger, to training together, you’d absolutely believed they would let the two perfect weapons stay together, strengthening each other. But alas, the two of you had drifted away from each other.
Now you’re looking at the building that supposedly ‘yours’. You know damn well it’s the Commission’s, but you let yourself believe for just a moment that it’s something of your own. They own you, though, so you’re not sure you’ll ever get something of your own.
Stepping inside the lobby you step into a new part of your life—alone.
The first year goes well. You quickly climb the rankings, no doubt the Commission having something to do with it, but it’s still something. You recently just breached the top 10. Your name being everywhere.
The rookie hero who debuts in the top ten!
But wherever your name is, his follows. Hawks being more popular amongst the masses, purely for being so charismatic. You roll your eyes at that, as if you didn’t know damn well how charismatic he can be. And from everything you’ve seen, the smirks, the winks, the little murmured sentences to his fans—all fake.
You’re muttering to yourself about how his real smirk is more awkward, it has that little adorable tilt to it that makes it more cute than sexy. His wink normally isn’t as smooth. The little dimple doesn’t appear on his face when he smiles.
But not that you notice that. Of course not. He’s made it very clear with what the two of you are, which is absolutely nothing. So you don’t look at it too long, always clicking away whenever his face pops up on the screens.
Seems like despite not working together you still can’t get away from him.
The Commission drowns you in assignments. You do your normal patrols, go out when you get paged, and after that you have to do the dirty work no one ever would even think of heroes doing. Granted most heroes don’t do the things you—and Hawks—do.
It makes for a good distraction, though. You’re simply too exhausted to even care about a certain blond-haired crimson-winged hero at the other side of Japan.
That is until the annual hero billboards come around. Your days have been so swamped that you didn’t even realise it was that time of the year already.
So here you are, walking backstage, waiting for the event to start. Number ten.
You know the Commission definitely messed with the numbers, but you aren’t complaining. There’s a lot of things you do that go unnoticed, so maybe this is a way of them telling you you did a good job. Or maybe they’re trying to keep you under their thumbs by putting you in the spotlights so you can’t slack off for even a day.
The perfect weapons.
That’s all you’ll ever be to them. Not a person. Not a hero. A weapon they created to use at their disposal. Same for the guy you spent almost your entire life beside.
Speaking of— your shoulder collides with another, making you stumble slightly. It’s not something that has happened often, your handler always being on your ass to be alert. Vigilant. Stay aware of your surroundings at all times. But with how tired you are you can’t really focus. Seems like even the strongest sometimes need a break.
You’re bowing a full ninety degrees, mumbling out a ‘sorry’ before straightening up again. And all the air seems to leave your lungs.
A pair of golden eyes is staring straight at you, lips pursed, bushy brows furrowed slightly. An annoyed look you weren’t familiar with. Never in the thirteen years of knowing him has he ever looked at you like that—or anyone for that matter, because handlers would have his head if he so much as disobeyed them.
“See you made the top ten,” he mutters out with a scoff, disdain lacing his voice. But you can’t hear him, not really anyway. Your mind already far, far away from the billboards and rather back in those industrial gray rooms that you were so familiar with.
Eyes that are golden with amber specks in them are looking at you. There’s dark marks around the eyes that has your head tilt a bit. Your hand is fisted in the fabric of this tall stranger’s pants—you’ll later learn that it’s your handler, one of the many you’ll get over the years that you’ll stay in that rotten place you’ve never escaped—while you step away from their legs just slightly when you see the boy stand there.
His golden curls bounce on top of his head, a single curl falls into his eyes, which he swipes away with one hand while the other is clutching a plushy of sorts. You’re not familiar with what, or who it is, but it’s clearly a man with a flaming beard.
Your voice doesn’t come to you, throat hoarse from all the screaming you’ve done when your parents told you to stay here with the nice lady while they went out for errands. You just couldn’t understand why they didn’t want to take you with them and rather let you stay with a stranger.
Eyes welled up with fat tears that rolled down the round apples of your cheeks that were blotched red with the way you were crying for your parents.
Why didn’t they want to take you with them?
Nose snotty and eyes completely red-rimmed you were staring at this boy that seemed to be your age. He wasn’t that much taller than you were, but he was calm, looking at you like you were something interesting. And in that moment you calmed down slightly.
The hiccups stopped after a while, when the handler nice lady told you you could play with the boy. That seemed more fun, for a second forgetting your parents just left you here. Maybe being here for a few hours wouldn’t hurt all that much.
Said boy told you his name was Hawks, and you’d giggled then and told him your real name—something you got reprimanded for by the lady, and your little mind just couldn’t understand why she was scolding you for simply telling him your name—in turn.
The rest of the day was spent with giggles and hushed voices. There might not have been much to play with—only giving the two of you a few blocks to play with—but it was enough to keep your mind off the fact that your parents pretty much had abandoned you here.
It was only when the lady came back and told you two to go to bed that you were brought back to reality. Your little fist rubbing your eyes while you asked if mama and papa were there for you. The lady gave you a look, something between disappointment and reprimand, and told you that you were having a sleepover today.
Your lips pursed while your eyebrows furrowed together. As much as you liked this new boy, you weren’t a fan of sleeping over here. Your parents said they would only go out to run some errands, never saying anything about you staying here for the night.
When you’d pleaded with the lady to just go home, she got angry and told you to behave, almost scolding you like a mom does.
That seemed to do something to the young boy, though, because he immediately clamped his mouth shut while his eyes turned blank—the signs of him being happy were simply erased from his face like a light switch was turned off—and he stood up to go to, what you presumed was, his room.
From then on out there were no more playdates, only people testing your quirk out on different people, trying to gauge your power from when you were a mere five years old. Your parents never came back for you, and you later found out that you’d simply been sold off.
But through it all, from that first day up until almost the last, was one person you could always rely on—Keigo. Or as the masses call him: Hawks. That name makes you shudder, for multiple reasons, but mostly because you know what it meant for him to get a name like that. A prisoner in a corrupt system that should’ve never existed to begin with.
And now he’s here, looking at you like you’re a pest in his life. Like you’re one of them. Not trying to hide his disdain for you, and you can’t help but feel a nerve in your jaw tick at the sight.
Sure, you were the person who fell in love with your best friend—which you knew was stupid to begin with, not just because he might not love you back, but also because the Commission would never allow the two of you to be distracted to begin with—but he’s the one who broke whatever it was the two of you had off.
So why is he glaring at you like you’re mere gum on the bottom of his shoe, or that one little barb he never can reach in his wings that you always had to preen for him otherwise he’d get agitated.
“Mhmm. See you did, too. Must’ve been easy, charming every women to get a little more popularity over there,” you smile at him through gritted teeth, trying so incredibly hard not to let anyone who’d walk past see that there’s any animosity between the two of you.
He smiles at you all condescendingly. It makes your eye twitch just slightly, but his eye see the movement—of course they do, the two of you have been trained to look at little tells like that since you were young, always so in tune with other’s emotions—and his grin widens, almost as if he’s won something.
He’s about to retort something when his wings twitch on his back, a movement so minuscule, no one else would catch it, but you know him better than anyone else, even if you don’t want to acknowledge that part right now.
The two of you straighten up and smile at each other—one of the practiced, fake ones that no one would be able to tell was fake to begin with—pretending to chat about the rankings. One of the heroes walks past and nods his head at the two of you, while the two of you bow back to him.
When he’s out of sight you drop the entire persona, not bothering with the fake smiles and niceties. You note the way Hawks relaxes slightly, feathers betraying his every being no matter how much he tries to hide from you, too.
Your hand shoots to your ribs, fingers skimming over your hero suit. The fabric dark with gold details—just like his, because the two of you might not do things together, but the HPSC still has their claws in the two of you—but it’s empty underneath. Just flesh and bone. No red feather that flutters against your skin whenever the blond saw you, or missed you. No longer replies to your sighs.
It’s easy to get lost in all that’s him. The blond and red. The cocky smirk he has on his face, and the slight stubble he’s beginning to grow. It’s easy to get lost, and then get pulled back into the present when he scoffs and walks past you, shoulder deliberately knocking into yours.
You want to spill your heart out when you once again see him walk away from you, just like that night. Wings held high, feathers trembling slightly and the back of his head turned towards yours. Want to tell him that it meant nothing, that the two of you could still be friends, like old times sake. But you know that won’t happen, no matter how much you want it to.
The two of you have simply… grown apart. No longer best friends, or that more-than-bestfriends thing the two of you had before he broke it off. Right now the two of you are colleagues. Strangers with history. Enemies competing for the better spot on a leader board the two of you don’t care about.
Your hand falls from your ribs to your side, and it’s so easy to make him stay, but it’s also easy to let him walk away. Because what good would it do? He’s made his stance very clear on the matter. No longer wanting you in his life, no matter what he had promised you.
Walls no longer industrial gray, but rather a muted white, but they feel more lifeless that the prison that you called your home for years, because a certain someone isn’t there to brighten them up. Only the sun setting into hues of violet and peach paints the room in colors.
He said he’d still be here with you, yet you watch him walk away from you the moment the two of you see each other again.
Fine. So be it.
And that’s how the competition really begins.
After the first hero billboard comes the petty revenge. Flirting more with your fans—showing him that you can use his tactics to become more popular, too. The hero rankings are constantly fluctuating, you and Hawks surpassing each other every time, trading ranks like you’re trading stock.
People online have started putting bets on who will be higher ranked this year. The two rookie heroes going head to head, making for an exciting race, or whatever it is they’re saying.
He garners attention by flirting with his fans, you garner attention by doing a shoot, face plastered on every billboard across Japan. It’s petty. It’s stupid. It’s the only way you can keep him close to you despite being hundreds of kilometers apart.
There’s a nagging voice at the back of your head now every time you see his face or name anywhere on the internet. No longer associated with Keigo but rather with Hawks the hero who you’re competing against.
The second annual billboard ranks you at five while he’s at six. The saccharine smile you plaster on your face when the two of you are on stage ticks him off. You can see it in the little tells, one of his feathers near his scapula is razor-sharp one second, while soft the other.
People start asking the two of you questions—rookie heroes, dating scandals, anything and everything they can get their hands on. You deflect with a smile and a wink, and he does the same.
Later that same night there’s hundreds of clips posted about how the two of you would make such a good team or would be so good together. Your eye twitches at that, fingers cracking with the way you’re balling your hands so hard your nails breach the skin on your palms and blood steadily trickles down your forearm.
What would they know about you being ‘such a good item with him.’ They do not know Hawks the same way you do, and over your dead body would you go back to him. The feud you have with him is at this point more important than anything else.
So you start doing other things on your off time—which you already barely have, but for the sake of winning this god-forsaken competition you’d give up all of your free time—such as going into schools and telling children about safety and what to do in villain attacks.
Your popularity numbers are climbing by the day, more of you can be seen in tabloids. Face plastered all over social media for helping a cat get out of a tree. Bringing in groceries for the nice old lady on the sidewalk. Things you would never do out of your own volition, purely because that hasn’t been trained into you to do.
Seems like you underestimated how low Hawks would step, though. It’s during one of your regular patrols, the sun is blistering down and sweat is beading off your temple and down your jaw. There’s a marker in your hand while a kid is jumping up and down in excitement to get your autograph.
You’re smiling, already thinking of where you could get something to hydrate, the cold surely feeling nice against your parched throat, when a big shadow falls across you.
People starts squealing and pointing into the sky, and sure enough there he is. Hawks. All red wings and cocky smirks, hovering in the air. He circles a few times before touching down, immediately getting mobbed by tens of fans.
Hell, even the kid you were giving an autograph just… runs away from you. Your pen hovering uselessly in the air. The stench that comes from the marker fills your nostrils, and it finally snaps you out of your reverie.
Pinching yourself once, you confirm that Hawks is, in fact, really here. Standing on your turf, talking and taking pictures with your fans. And you can already hear that stupid counter climb up by the second, getting more popularity by just touching down here.
And as if he can feel your gaze on him, he lifts his head lightly, golden eyes finding your form. For a second he just stares blankly, then he smirks and throws a wink into your direction. Fucking dickhead.
Sighing you continue your patrol while already thinking of how you’ll get your revenge.
Kyushu is… different than you expected. You never read up much about it, but you knew it was an island—duh—so you didn’t expect to see high rise towers litter everywhere you looked. The buildings so high you would almost be able to touch a cloud if you opened the window; an over-exaggeration, but still.
You thought the place Hawks chose, or well, the HPSC chose for him would have more sea. You thought the air would smell salty, like the ocean, and hear the waves crash ashore, but nothing is less true.
Fukuoka is a heavily populated city. There’s buildings, cars, and street life everywhere. When you got sent here you thought it might be different than back in Sendai, but nothing is less true.
The mission had been simple. Go undercover for a drug ring, get the info, let the President know what’s happening, and turn the whole thing upside down before they even know someone infiltrated their home.
What you’d failed to consider, though, is the fact that this is the home of a certain crimson-winged hero who could spot you from hundreds of meters away.
Looks like he didn’t spot you, but rather you him. Tiny feathers slicing through the air at lightning speed, multiple civilians getting pulled out of the way by their clothes while the number two hero fights the villains.
It’s a sight for sore eyes, wings almost down to little nubs, no longer able to fly, and it seems like these villains aren’t gonna stop any time soon.
He’s exhausted. There’s too many innocent bystanders nearby that he has to keep track of while also fighting off two other villains. His wings are almost non-existent, most of the feathers having been used up at this point. One feather-blade is in his hand, luckily still able to use it.
There’s sweat beading down his brow, nearly falling into his eye before it drips to the ground, which is littered with debris from the wreckage the villains have done to the city. It’s honestly more than he’s encountered in the years before—here anyway.
Villains of this size were normally more common in Tokyo, but seems like they decided to bother his district this day.
He deflects one attack while scooping up a child that had fallen trying to run away with one of his feathers, returning the child to his mother who was in tears, officers holding her back from running onto an active villain site.
Then he hears it, a sharp whistle he hasn’t heard in years. It’s music to his ears. It grates him. Almost like he can’t decide if he loves you for being here right now, or if he hates the fact that you’re even here to begin with.
He knows you wouldn’t come here out of your own volition, just like he doesn’t go to Sendai unless ordered, so you’re here on a mission. And here you are, seeing him in this pathetic state, nearly losing to two villains.
You’d probably laugh at him when you have the time, tell him he’s gonna drop a rank and you’ll sprint ahead of him again. The swapping of places hasn’t once stopped. The number two and three, constantly swapping places but never getting that number one spot.
But he knows. He knows he should give you the go-ahead. Get this over with. The civilians are the most important thing right now, so he should do what’s best for them—even if that means you get a tally added to the score.
So he gives his signal that it’s okay to swap. His wings slowly disappearing from his back. The feathers that he has in his hand goes limp—just an ordinary red feather right now—just like all the others that he’s used to get the bystanders out of the way.
Some people gasp, while others are already filming. He can feel the way his quirk has been swapped for someone elses—one of the villains, though he doesn’t know which of the two.
The villains in front of him look confused for a split second before they grin again, certainly thinking they have the upperhand now. Hawks can only grin in turn, tucking his feather in his jacker sleeve—a souvenir he can give to fans if they want it.
And then a flurry of red feathers come down—sharp as can be. The villains get pinned down almost immediately while Hawks goes in to put quirk-cancelling handcuffs on them. He sees you walk up to him a few seconds after, whistling with your hands in your pockets—a sight so him it pisses him off. Of course you’d try and mock him while he’s already down.
More people are gasping and screaming each of your names now, but neither of you give them any attention. You stop in front of him, a lazy nod given while the police officers rush onto scene, dragging away the suspects.
There are some words exchanged while you still have his quirk, crimson stark against the dark fabric of your hero suit. And he can see the way the feathers are trembling, just like your fingers. There’s a slight tick in your jaw you never could hide, not even from the Commission.
You’re overstimulated. His quirk simply picking up too many noises at once, while he can’t hear anything at all. It’s something the two of you haven’t done in a long time—swapping quirks. While you did this on a regular years ago, it’s now something foreign. Still, he has to applaud you for keeping your face as neutral as you are right now, because he knows how rowdy people can be.
After the officer is done talking with the two of you he walks away, leaving the two of you to fend for yourselves. Masses crowd around the number two and three, as if you two are merely circus acts and everyone can just do whatever they want.
People want pictures where you have the wings, others are touching the feathers to see if they really are as soft as Hawks’. And he notes how uncomfortable you are right now, shivers running up your spine when someone tugs on one of the feathers, and he sees the way your—technically his—wings are twitching like they want to lash out.
So he whispers, as low as he can go, that the two of you can get out of here if you just fly away with him. Which is exactly what you do, picking him up with ease—ease that was never there to begin with since he was heavier with the wings dragging behind him—and flying away from the crowd to one of the high-rises.
It’s an bumpy, unsteady flight all the way up to the tallest building there is, and he has to cling onto you to not plummet to his death. Once you land, clumsy and everything, you set him down.
Your wings shudder behind you before they disappear from your back and form back onto Hawks’—only for there to be stubs instead of actual, massive wings he normally has.
There’s sweat clinging to your spine and beading down your temple. You’d forgotten just how loud his world actually is, not having had to bother with it for years on end. That of course doesn’t mean you forgot what his quirk can do—things no one else in the world except for the President and a few handlers know.
You straighten up, swallowing past the bile that was threatening to come up if you stayed down there any longer, you nod to yourself. You’re okay. This is okay. Everything is okay.
The blond is just watching you, for once having no quip ready on the tip of his tongue, but rather just… looking. There’s a hint of concern he can’t quite seem to hide from you, but you don’t focus too much on that.
Walking up to him you pat him on the back, just between his scapulae where he’s the most sensitive. A little payback you’d say, not just for the fact that you had to get the two of you out of there since he didn’t have enough feathers to even fly, but also for all the bullshit he had pulled this year to get ahead of you.
“Well, see you later, number three,” your voice mock-cheerful. You were the number three hero currently, but with today’s save, or whatever you want to call it, you’re sure your rank will rise once again, surpassing Hawks’. “Gotta do stuff.”
Before you can even walk away a gloved hand wraps itself around your wrist, tugging you back. Another hand finds itself on your hip, warm and familiar in a way you don’t want to acknowledge right now. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Clenching your jaw you look over at the blond, brows furrowing and lips pursing into a straight line. You don’t bother to conceal your expression right now, there’s no one around to see, so you can just show your disdain on your face whenever you want—one of the special occasions.
“Oh I’m sorry, I forgot. I… gotta… go,” you slowly annunciate every word, almost as if you’re talking to a deaf person with dementia who has to lip read. You know he can hear you just fine—while he might not be able to hear everything, his ears still work perfectly fine.
The next instant you’re backed onto a brick wall of the bulkhead. Rough stone scraping against your back through the fabric of your hero suit. It has you gasping out slightly, not thinking he would do something like this.
“You’re such a brat sometimes,” he breathes out, pupils almost like slits, and oh, he’s pissed. Not his normal relaxed self, but rather actually annoyed at something you did—and if you had to guess it was to hit him where it hurt the most. “You should be happy I even gave you the go-ahead to use my quirk.”
That ticks you off. It’s not like you want to use his quirk, but he was in a bind and he knows it. If it were up to you, you would never even think of using his quirk. So you do what you know best—hands coming around to his back to where the little wings are still uncovered, one of your fingers tracing over his feather. Slow and teasing.
He groans out at the sensation, eyes fluttering closed for just a second before he opens them again, pupils dilated slightly. Then he turns you around, your chest pressing up to the stone while your cheek lays flat against the rough texture. A gasp rips itself from your throat.
His breath ghosts the shell of your ear while he presses his chest against your back, and you feel the bulge in his pants on your ass, making you gulp out. He cannot be serious right now.
“You sure you wanna do this, birdie?” the nickname has you close your eyes for a split-second. For a moment you can hear it echo in your head, distort it until you hear that all too familiar nickname: ‘dove’, but he doesn’t, he just uses the same nicknames he gives his fangirls.
You scoff out at it, and try to wiggle your way from him, only for your ass to brush his bulge. He moans out at the sensation before pushing his hips further into you—pressing it right against your ass so you can feel just how hard he is. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”
Pressing your thighs together, you can feel yourself getting hot and bothered. Even after all these years he still gets you going like no other—not that you’ve ever even looked at someone else. The competition between you two has had your focus so much that you haven’t even had the time to go on a date, and honestly you didn’t care to go on one, either.
When you don’t say anything he chuckles. It comes deep from his chest, rumbling it with the sound that’s completely foreign to you.
“Who would’ve thought,” he whispers, fingers slowly tracing up and down your side, not groping, not grabbing, just tracing featherlight touches along your sides while he humps against your ass. It’s almost as if he isn’t aware of his own ministrations, simply rutting against you like a dog in heat—better yet, like a bird in heat. “Bet you flew us here just to rile me up.”
One of his hands slowly goes to the front, fingers skimming your ribs, just where his feather always used to lay. He makes a little shape there before his fingers trace upwards, squeezing your tit once over the fabric. Shivers run down your spine, straight into your core, and you can feel yourself getting wetter by the second. Panties sticking uncomfortably to your folds.
“Hah, you wish—shit,” your head lolls back onto his shoulder when he finds your nipple over the fabric, pinching and rolling the bud between his forefinger and thumb before he tugs on it slightly. “You’re so full of yourself.”
“You’re gonna be full of me in a second,” he murmurs against your cheek, hips never ceasing their motion, while his other hand finally trails down, stopping just at your pants. It’s only when you nod at him that he slips his fingers inside them, digits finding your heat immediately. “Oh? So wet for someone who’s ‘so full of himself’.”
His fingers move over your panties, lightly caressing it, almost like he’s preening himself—careful not to press too hard, nor move too fast, and it has you absolutely whining out for him.
“R-really, that’s all you can come up with. Thought you’d have some—fuck just keep them there—more practice with your l-little fangirls,” you moan out when his fingers skim over your clit, not pressing or rubbing, just featherlight touches that drive you absolutely crazy for him.
Chuckling his finger finally presses down onto your clit, moving it in small circles while pleasure shoots up your core. Your hand clamps itself onto his forearm, not trying to move it, just holding onto it while you gasp out into the open air.
“That’s itttt, love it when your rival plays with your pussy hmmm?” his finger doesn’t stop, just keeps circling your nub until you’re whining out. “Just put them in already, Hawks.”
He makes a thoughtful sound in the back of his throat—something between a hum and a groan—before he finally moves your panties aside and glides one finger through your slick folds. The feeling of the pads of his fingers directly on your skin has you arching into his touch, trying to chase his fingers even though he keeps sliding them through your folds.
One of his fingers finally slide inside your snug walls, warm and wet around him. It has you struggling to catch your breath. When was the last time you even got time to get yourself off? The feeling of his singular finger so much thicker than your own, eyes rolling to the back of your skull.
He slowly starts to pump in and out of your pussy, walls clinging onto him every time he tries to slide his finger out. Soon another one joins the first, stretching you out even further. Blunt nails dig themselves into his forearm, making him hiss out.
“F-feels so good,” you whimper out, careful not to be too noisy. There might not be anyone around, but if someone living in the apartments below, there’s a possibility they’d be able to hear you, and you’d rather not get caught getting fingered by your so-called rival.
His hips pick up pace behind you, still rutting against your ass like a damn animal in heat. Groans fall from his lips like an open faucet, never once stopping. He curls his fingers up while his thumb grazes your clit before it presses down onto it—adding all the more stimulation.
Trusting his fingers in and out a few times, he finally finds a spot that has you actively keen out, your other hand slapping itself over your mouth when he continues to attack your g-spot with his fingers. “F-fuck, please keep them there.”
Hawks just groans while his hips stutter behind you, fingers keeping their pace. Your thighs are starting to shake, knees buckling slightly. Suddenly there’s a tug on your nipple, completely forgetting his hand was still on your breast, and your eyes roll to the back of your skull. “Cumming, cumming— oh shit.”
Your orgasm shoots through you, and it’s so much more powerful than ever before. At the same time his hips cease behind you, warmth seeping through his pants while he muffles a moan into your shoulder.
It’s only when you catch your breath that you look at him from the corner of your eyes. “Did you just cum in your pants just by rutting yourself against my ass?”
His fingers slip from your heat, cunt clenching around nothing after his fingers retreat, when they come down with a quick slap to your clit. You jump slightly at the feeling, yelping while your head turns to the side to look at him.
“Shut up,” his cheeks are blotched pink, not once daring to look you in the eye, confirming what you thought had happened. He eyes his hand, spreading his fingers slightly, looking at the way your arousal webs between his fingers before they snap!
Almost in a trance he pops his fingers in his mouth, lips wrapping around the digits while his tongue licks the wetness right off. He moans out at the taste, eyes nearly rolling to the back of his skull while he can feel his dick twitch to life in his pants again.
Your mouth falls open at the sight, so sinful it makes you all the more hornier. Without realising your hips are moving back, ass brushing against his hardening cock, which he gives a quick slap. He pulls his fingers out of his mouth, lips shiny with a mixture of spit and cum, having your eyes snap to them. “Still haven’t had enough, thought you hated me?”
You roll your eyes at that, not bothering to confirm nor deny his accusations. Turning around your hand cups his member, palm pressing against it while you smile sweetly up at him. “Could say the same thing for you, Hawks.”
He growls—actually growls—at that, eyes narrowing down at you before his fingers make quick work of your pants. You unbuckle his belt, fingers fumbling slightly with how they’re trembling, and you can only hope he doesn’t see it.
He frees his cock from his underwear, mushroom tip angry red and shiny with cum. Giving it a few tugs he gets himself fully hard again. His other hand creeps down your thigh before he grabs just below your knee and hoists your leg up to put it around his waist. Your other feet shuffles around on the ground slightly, trying to find your balance again, while your hand shoots out to grab his shoulder—this time careful not to touch anywhere near his wings.
“Sure you’re ready for this?” he asks, fingers toying with your panties that are soaked through at this point, flimsy material doing nothing to hide your swollen folds.
“Just put it in already,” you roll your eyes at him, watching the way he once again pulls your panties to the side while he lines himself up. There’s anticipation and slight dread running through you now. Are you ready? Did he prep you enough? How are you even sure you can take him?
He glides his shaft through your folds a few times, skin getting shiny with your slick, when his tip rubs over your clit, shooting more pleasure through you. It’s only when he glides over it once again that you feel it—something metal.
Dickhead has a dick piercing.
“Bet your f-fangirls love that,” you whimper out, still eyeing the way he’s gliding through your folds, tip catching on your entrance only to move it up again, and again, and again. “How many compliments did you ge—fuuuckk.”
He doesn’t let you finish your sentence, instead finally deciding to push inside. The stretch feel insane, walls clamping down immediately, tip pushing past that first ring of resistance. Tears immediately spring to your eyes, and your hand tightens on his shoulder.
“S-shit, ease up, d— birdie,” he grunts out, not trying to push in any further. His hand comes down to your hip, thumb rubbing circles on your hip while he lets you adjust to the stretch. “You always this t-tight, or is it just me who has that effect on you?”
“Shut up,” you whine, not caring how you sound right now. You let your body slump to the wall behind you, sweat starting to collect at your nape again. Never in your life did you think it would feel like this. “Y-you can move.”
Looking at you for a few more seconds he slowly inches in, the stretch torturous, and he isn’t even half-way in yet. You claw at his shoulders, trying to find anything to hold onto while he was splitting you open.
“Just a few more inches,” he murmurs down at you with—is that concern? in his voice, thumb sliding from your hip to your clit, rubbing small figure eights on it to help you relax slightly. A few more inches? Looking down you see the way his skin is wrinkling at the base, and yup, he still had two more inches give or take left.
Once he finally bottoms out he lets his head fall forward, straight against your collarbone, breath hot even through the fabric. His tip is smooched against your cervix, and you can feel the two barbells of his piercing sit snug against your walls, even when he isn’t moving.
It’s a weird sensation—the metal cool against your warm cunt, smooth surface rubbing you just right. After a few moment he finally pulls his hips back—just slightly—and thrusts back in. It’s a shallow thrust, but it knocks the breath right out of your lungs.
“Y-you always this weak when fucking your girls?” You shouldn’t ask it, you don’t even want to know his answer to it, but your mouth is moving before your brain can even catch up. Luckily for you he doesn’t reply, only pulls out further before thrusting back in, making you moan out.
He sets a steady pace after that, hips pulling out halfway only to thrust back in, tip hitting your cervix each and every time, pre clinging to your walls. Moans and groans fill the air while the two of you are too lost in the pleasure to even taunt each other.
“F-fuck, pussy gripping onto me—shit look at that—like she doesn’t want me to leave,” he groans out, eyeing the way your lips are wrapping around him every time he pulls out.
“Maybe she just wants you to cum so she can get away from you,” you mutter out, which he hears loud and clear. The stubs on his backs flutter slightly, not bothering to hide any reaction you pull out of him any longer.
His eyes narrow at you before his hand that’s still rubbing circles stops. The pleasure dwindles slightly, only for him to set a more brutal pace, balls slapping against your ass while he pummels into your poor pussy.
“Yeah? Well then maybe— oh fuck… maybe I shouldn’t get you off,” he changes his angle slightly, hiking your leg further up his waist before he starts pistoning his hips in and out of you, an audible squelch can be heard every time he bottoms out.
“Don’t need you—there, please there,” your eyes roll back while you babble out ‘please’ and ‘there’ over and over again. Your mouth falls open, high off ecstasy while Hawks keeps bullying your g-spot with lethal precision.
“There, yeah? Fuck feel her clamping down on me. What was that… hahhh, about not needing me?” he grunts out while he can feel his abs start to tighten.
Your own hand comes down to your sensitive clit, rubbing circles on it while you’re incoherently babbling now, cock-drunk on the way he’s pummeling into your weeping hole. “Gonna—” you gasp out, before it cuts off with a choked cry. Your walls spasm around him while you get thrown into your second climax of the day, thighs trembling slightly.
“F-fuck,” he chokes out before he thrusts once more, hips stilling while he paints your entire walls white. His wings twitch and flex against his back, and you’re pretty sure you can see the left over feathers sharpen and soften against his back through your hazed-out mind.
The two of you stay like that for a while, just breathing in each other’s presence, not daring to move. It’s only when he pulls out with a hiss that you realise the situation. Looking down you see his seed bubble out of you, a bit of red mixed in the mess.
Hawks also sees it, looking down with concern at you. “Shit— fuck, are you okay?”
Rolling your eyes you let your leg fall from his hips, and your thigh almost immediately seizes up. Luckily you can deal with cramps—having been through enough training that this doesn’t feel like anything anymore—but the foreign feeling of your pussy having been stretched out has you grit your teeth.
“That’s your blood,” you mumble out, swiping your thumb on a cut just on his eyebrow. It leaves behind a trail of red, staining your finger in the crimson substance. Holding it up for him to see you just swallows and nods once.
Wiping it off on your uniform, you put your panties back in place, grimacing slightly when you feel the sticky substance ooze out of you. Pulling up your pants you pat everything down to see if you still have everything before straightening up.
There’s an awkward beat where the two of you just look at each other. And it finally sinks in what just happened. You fucked Hawks. Your ex-bestfriend, ex-lover, current rival. The one person you swore you would be done with.
Swallowing you quickly push yourself from the brick wall, finally noticing just how much your back hurts at the moment. Running your fingers through your hair you nod once towards the hero before you open the door and walk away from whatever all of this is.
And while you awkwardly walk down the stairs—gait off and your hole pulsing around nothing—you know that you’re absolutely and utterly fucked.
The time after that moves weird. You hadn’t seen anything of the crimson-winged hero while you stayed in Kyushu, only hearing people whisper about him in passing, but never once seeing that blur of red move through the sky.
You know somewhere deep down that he’s avoiding you, and you’re honestly doing the same. The night in the safehouse after what happened made you unable to sleep, eyes blinking up at that same industrial gray you’ve seen your entire life, and for just a moment—just one—you could feel him beside you on that bed. Only this bed was bigger than the one you had for twelve years.
When you closed your eyes you could feel the way his breath would ghost your skin while laying beside you, his wing flopped over you like a soft, unique blanket that sometimes twitched whenever either of the two of you moved.
Could still feel the way he would trace soft patterns over your arms when he thought you’d fallen asleep before he was out of the room. Could still feel the gentleness in his gazze whenever he looked at you.
But when you opened your eyes you were met by silence. No soft whisper of feathers ruffling or the soft breathing pattern he always had around you—something that had been trained into the two of you. There was still that small electral buzz you were familiar with, but it made your heart only do more complicated flips.
It was like you were suddenly thrown back to when you were seventeen years old and got told that the two of you shouldn’t see each other anymore.
And just like then, you have a feather in your hand. Soft, white, and itchy. Not the crimson, alive feather you used to wear like a shield. Like a promise etched onto your skin. But rather just a dead feather from god-knows-where.
It droops to the side sadly, like it’s reminding you that this isn’t what you were familiar with for half your life. But still you put it on your chest and begin talking to it like it can respond. The stories are quite silly, and you would never actually say all of these things out loud—when you’d done grocery shopping online, the latest villain arrest, a short story about how your sidekick had put soap in the food instead of olive oil.
You’re gesturing around the room wildly, a small smile on your face while your eyes are closed. It’s easier that way, telling stories to a feather that can’t respond. But for a moment you just let yourself believe it can. Let yourself believe that you’re seventeen years old again and that you’re ranting to your friend.
The golden-eyed boy across the hall that always looked like you were more than the weapon they were trying to make you out to be. The one who you shared secret glances and giggles with. The one who put a warm hand over your stomach whenever your cramps got too much, but the handlers just kept pushing you to do more more more.
And when you open your eyes, there’s a slight part in your heart that yearns to see that red feather hovering in front of your eyes. But you’re met with air. The white feather still laying on your chest, not moving an inch from where you last put it.
A tear slides down your face before you can stop it. Quickly wiping it away you chuckle into the empty room. No one can hear you, after all, so why would you care?
There’s a slight throbbing between your legs, soreness running through your muscles—an type of sore you’ve never been before, and it scares you slightly—while there’s no one to tell you it’s okay.
Rolling over you look at the empty spot beside you in the bed. It’s cold and pristine, not a wrinkle in sight. How many times have you imagined there to be someone beside you? It’s honestly too many to count, and you can’t help but let another tear slide down your face.
There’s a slight discontent in your heart that tells you that after today he’ll never even look at you anymore. That this will be just like what happened seven years ago, where he told you the two of you couldn’t be together and walked out of your life.
You had this silly competition, chasing after numbers the two of you knew didn’t matter. While other heroes yearn to be in the top 10, the two of you treated it as an game to one-up one another. Taunting the other with whoever has the higher rank that year.
That was the only time you talked to him, honestly. The annual Japanese Hero Billboard Chart. One of the only times you’d see him in real life instead of on a screen with an update on his latest endeavor.
And somewhere deep down you know that even that will cease to exist after today. The silly competition will be over, no more trying to get more popular, but rather just actually focusing on what the two of you are—heroes.
You grab your pillow, squeezing it to your chest. Of course you had to fuck it up once more.
The pillow feels to hard. Too many feathers stuffed into the thing, and without thinking about it you rip it open, hundreds of little feathers spilling from the casing. Sitting up you look around the room knowing that each safehouse had a small kit with a thread and needle stored somewhere.
Searching around for it, you find it under the sink. Sitting on the bed once more—a few feathers poking you in the butt and your legs—you get to work.
Hours pass, the dark night sky changing to the soft break of dawn that paints the entire sky hues of orange, to daylight where the sun is shining onto the sealed windows.
Your hands are cramping and bleeding slightly, small spots of red against the stark white feathers that make you just wanna cut your hand open to stain them red entirely—something you decide against when you repeat it in your head.
When you finally lay down the thread and needle you look up at your nightstand. It’s just past twelve in the afternoon, which gives you plenty of time to still get ready for the mission. Scrubbing a hand over your face you look down onto the bed.
An entire sheet of feathers lay there, neatly sown together in something that resembles the form of a wing. The entire thing is soft and way too itchy, but you still run your hands through it, hoping that one of them would twitch.
They never do.
Leaning your body back you look over at the wall, just… staring at it for a good few minutes. Since when were you so lonely that you had to sow together a whole feather blanket just to be reminded of when you were younger?
A small chuckle escapes your lips. Hollow and heartbroken. Of course, of course you would go ahead and fuck him after what happened when you kissed him last time.
Hands shaking you put the feather blanket over your legs, trying to feel the warmth in them—but they are too different. Even your brain knows this isn’t what you want, but it’s the closest what you can get. Sighing you get up to get ready for the day.
The mission comes before anything and everything else.
After that night you haven’t been able to focus, quickly losing sleep and some of your popularity considering you haven’t been doing that good of a job interacting with your fans. You were short and snappy with them sometimes, almost like a bird that’s being cornered into a cage.
Your number two rank—because you did get to two after that save—quickly dropped to four over the span of mere weeks. Tabloids printing out more and more articles about you. Speculations, your latest mishap, you name it and it’s there.
And of course wherever your name went, his was not far behind. Hawks, the number two hero, charming his way with the ladies once more. His ruby studs catching the light just right in the latest picture, and you know his magpie brain loves to see it.
Clicking the screen off you let yourself fall backward. This isn’t what you wanted, not even close. And just like you expected, there’s no more real competition. But maybe that’s also because you’re not letting there be competition.
The Commission has been on your ass about your latest endeavors, scolding you and even putting cameras inside of your own agency, just so they can keep track of what you’re doing in there.
Your sidekicks have been eyeing you carefully, but you just smile at them and tell them everything is fine. Because it is, isn’t it?
No matter how much time passes, every time you get home—if you even get the time to go back to your own apartment, nothing Commission owned—you look in the almost-empty closet and fish out the little feather blanket you made weeks ago.
Every time you can’t sleep, you lay it over you, just to try and trick your brain that everything will be okay, even when it will never be again.
The Hero Billboard Chart that year felt brutal. You fell down the rankings—now the number five hero—while Hawks was at his number two spot. It’s been the first time in years since the two of you didn’t stand next to each other. And oh boy, didn’t people have their opinions about it.
There’s speculation, children and adults alike screaming at the two of you asking if something happened. Others are more bold and ask if the two of you had a falling out of sorts. And of course there are the shippers who are making sad edits about you and Hawks, compiling every picture the two of you are in together to throw a sad song over it while unrelated pictures get used.
It’s honestly… something. Never in a million years would you have thought that people cared like to this extent. The two of you weren’t that close. Not in the public’s eye anyway, and no one knows about the history you have with the birdbrain.
So why is everyone always trying to get you two together anyway? Is it because you two debuted at the same time and rose the rankings together? Or do they see something deeper you yourself are refusing to admit?
Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter, because the HPSC is once again calling a meeting. Walking in you see that one face you were dreading to see, but you can’t just walk back out. Steeling your face you go to sit down at the long table that’s filled with people in business suits.
The meeting drones on and on. Beginning with reprimanding you for losing rank so fast. Rolling your eyes you let them talk about how they are going to rectify things, as if being the number five isn’t good enough.
A pawn. That’s still all you are to these people. Just a little piece on a much bigger board they can use any time they want. Same goes for the crimson-winged hero across from you. He’s leaning back, arms behind his head while he leans back.
There’s a beat of silence before your handler finally speaks up. “The two of you will do an ad together. Just to show everyone there’s no bad blood.”
That makes you freeze up slightly, hairs standing on end like someone threw a cold bucket of water over you. The blond across from you also halts for half a second—one you’re sure everyone around the table saw—before he smiles, big and bright.
“And what would this ad be?” he almost purrs across the table, canines on full display while he sits up a little straighter. The lax position from minutes ago disappearing completely.
The handler looks you over for a second, then him, then looks down at the tablet, just to create a little suspense. You know she knows what the ad is about, everyone here, except for you and Hawks do. They never call in a meeting without being prepared to the max.
“It’s an underwear ad. They want to advertise their new matching sets—for partners. The two of you can do that, right?”
Of course. Of course they would throw you in the deep end like this. It isn’t even just the fact that you have to do an ad with him, but the forced close proximity and underwear. Fucking great. Across from you Hawks’ eyebrows shoot up.
“An underwear ad,” he echoes, dragging every syllable like he’s chewing on taffy and trying to figure out how to get it out of his mouth. “For couples.”
Everyone at the table looks at him before his own handler smiles, cold and devoid of any emotion. “The two of you can do that, right? Show the world there’s no bad blood like they think there is. Just two heroes who are competing to be the better hero.”
You nod slowly, mechanically. There’s no saying no to this, and he knows it as well. His golden eyes flit over to yours, and for the first time in forever you can see a glint of emotion in there. It’s gone as quick as it came, but you swear there was some relief in there.
Which is why you’re here now, two weeks later in a warehouse that doubles as the set. There are people everywhere around you. Two are working on your body, lotioning it up so it looks good in the lighting—or whatever they said, you weren’t really listening to begin with to be completely honest—while there are another two people working on your hair and makeup.
The underwear is plain. A little heart cut out on your ass—nothing scandalous, just something cute—while there is a little bow on the front. Your bra also has a cute little bow at the front, tits sitting snug in it, and it’s honestly cute.
You can hear the assistants whisper to each other about everything and anything, but most of the time yours and Hawks’ name fall from their lips. Straining your ears you can just about hear what they’re saying—He’s adorable’ ‘adorable? he’s so hot.’ ‘I think I like her more’ ‘Fine then, more for me’.
They’re giggling as if you can’t hear what they’re saying, and if you can hear it, you’re certain he can, too.Speaking of, looking in the mirror you can see him walk up and lean against the doorframe, arms over his chest, biceps bulging.
He’s in nothing but boxers, and you have to keep your eyes up to not ogle him. Lean frame gotten a bit more defined over the years, but nothing extreme. He has to be able to fly, after all, and it would be more difficult if he was on the bigger side.
The stylist puts on some lipgloss before she steps away with an watchful eye. Once she determines everything is fine she nods at you to go stand up. Walking over to the guy who fills every room without even trying—though his wings certainly had something to do with that—you stop just short in front of him.
He lets his eyes rake over you, stopping just slightly when he sees the cute bow before he whistles. Low and sharp. A catcall if you ever heard one. Your hand shoots up and hits him on the back of his head, a small little flick of your wrist.
There’s a small, sharp sting on the back of his head. Not hurting him enough to complain, but enough to get him back into the present. The two of you are not alone, and when he looks around, he can see almost every eye on the two of you.
Right. Just an ad campaign and not just the two of you.
“Ready?” he murmurs, pushing himself upright before stepping aside slightly. You roll your eyes at him before pushing past him to make your way to the set. He flicks two fingers into the air to everyone in the dressing room before he turns to follow you. And, oh—oh now that’s unfair. The little heart cutout has his eyes drawn to it.
It’s cute, small enough to be inconspicuous, but enough for him to notice. And notice he does. His feathers bristle slightly before he has to calm them down. Memories of months ago filling his head. You pushed to the brick wall, your warm, wet walls clamping down on his fingers, on his dick—shit.
He flexes his arms in hopes to get the blood rushing to there instead of down there. And he already knows this is going to be a long day.
The director is absolutely delighted when he sees the two of you walk in, immediately shaking your hands and thanking the two of you for coming, since he knows how busy hero work is. He’s absolutely beaming when you start talking a bit more, but then remembers he has to actually put the two of you in positions for the shoot.
It starts out with Keigo sitting down, muscled thighs spread oud, and you have to perch on his lap. Of fucking course. This is a couples ad, after all. But that didn’t mean you weren’t hoping it wouldn’t be like this.
Still the shoot goes on, running through multiple poses. Sitting on his lap, standing in front of each other, standing in front of him while you were with your back turned toward the camera, one of his hands on you waist, which slid lower lower lower, until he was grabbing your ass—which the director absolutely loved to see.
‘Make it more sensual.’ ‘Good, good, look each other in the eyes like you mean in.’ ‘Oh, yes yes that! that’s it!’ ‘Put your hand on his chest—there we goo.’ ‘This is looking good guys.’ ‘Okay now I just need something that shows off the front. Ohhh that’s good!’
He was… energetic to say the least.
By the time the two of you are done with the shoot—having had solo shots done as well—it’s already late at night. Most of the people have packed up already with a promise to go to dinner together, while there are still a few people walking around.
You’re in your dressing room removing your makeup when the door opens. Looking up through the mirror you can see Hawks leaned against the door, crimson wings spread open slightly while his arms are over his chest. Still in just his underwear—same as you.
You’re not sure what happened next. One minute he was talking to you—taunting you, really—and the next the two of you are stumbling to the couch, fingers groping and touching everywhere your eyes can see.
You’re laying on your back, hair splayed out underneath you while Hawks stands over you, teeth in the wrapper of the rubber that he— “Where did you even get that from?” He walked in here in just his boxers, so unless he was hiding it in there you have no idea where he got it from.
“Sent a feather to retreat one from my wallet,” he chuckles before he drops the last piece of clothing, dick springing free and hitting his bellybutton. He’s already hard and leaking for you—a sight you cannot get used to—and the soft amber lighting of the mirror shows you the two barbells just under his tip.
Fuck, if that isn’t hot. Your thighs squeeze together while you feel yourself start to soak through your underwear, white fabric almost turning translucent, sticking to your folds that leaves nothing up to the imagination.
Rolling the condom on he positions himself between your legs, hand at his base tapping his tip on your clit over the fabric a few times. Each tap has your thighs jolt, almost clamping them shut before you feel multiple feathers on them, keeping you nice and spread for him.
“You always like to tease this much or— or are you trying to keep me here longer?” you ask him through your teeth, annoyance dripping from your voice. It just makes him chuckle, golden eyes trained on where you were dripping for him. “Hmm, just wanna get you nice ‘n wet for me, but seems like I don’t have to do much, do I?
You roll your eyes at the statement. It’s not like he’s wrong, though. There’s no hiding it, either, not with the way your spread out for him.
He finally takes your panties off, hooking his slender fingers into the waistband before he lets it snap against your skin once, having you jolt out, before he finally takes them off. He looks down at the way you’re spread open for him—wet slit spread open for him with the way his feathers are keeping you open, and he can’t help but pry your lips open ever further with his thumbs.
Your hole clenches around nothing, more arousal dripping out of you and down the couch. He’s just staring for a few seconds, pupils blown out at the sight, and it would’ve made you chuckle—taunt him about hypnotizing him with your pussy—if it wasn’t for him putting his thumb in your weeping hole.
“Fuck, Hawks. Wanted your cock,” you mewl out when he slowly moves his finger in and out of you, totally transfixed on the way you’re swallowing him whole. “Seriously, just g-get this over with.”
You grab the base of his cock, manicured fingers wrapping around the appendage, before you move it over your slit, head bumping your already-sensitive clit. That finally snaps him out of it, retreating his thumb from your snug walls with a pop!
Positioning him at your entrance, he finally moves his hips, pushing in slowly. The stretch is still overwhelming. Leaning down his teeth sink into the fabric of your bra before he pulls it down just enough to bunch under your tits. Your nipples pebble immediately after they get exposed to the cold air, which just makes him groan before wrapping his lips around one of them.
The dual sensation has you mewling out, hands finding purchase on his back, fingers skimming the base of his wings making them arch out, the red plumes the only thing you can see right now. He whimpers at the sensation, feathers bristling slightly before he folds them back in.
His cock throbs inside of you once he bottoms out, flushed head steadily dripping more pre. The feeling of the rubber is different, the layer between your walls and his flushed cock has you whining out. The little barbell also feels weird, not like last time.
“Stop clenching— fucking hell… like that,” his hand smacks your thigh, aa sharp sting running up your thigh and straight to your core, having the exact opposite reaction he wanted—walls clenching down on him further.
“Just move already,” you moan out when his tongue flicks over your nipple, still waiting for him to move. His hips start to move, pulling them back he thrusts forward again. A deep and brutal thrust that has you clawing at his back, leaving behind angry, red marks. The red that matches his wings.
Your hips move in tandem with his, skin slapping against skin, heavy balls hitting your ass while his mouth finally finds your other tit, peppering it with kisses and bites. “So good for me, love it when I fuck you, don’tcha?” he murmurs against your skin.
Your legs wrap around his waist before you flip the two of you around, his body hitting the couch with an ‘oomf’. Straddling him you grab him at the base before sinking down on his girth, weeping hole swallowing him greedily. “Hate you. Hate you so much.”
His hands come down to your hips, helping you move up and down his cock. His eyes are transfixed on where the two of you are connected, lips stretching around him. “Yeah, hate me? That why you’re bouncing on my cock right now?”
His thumb presses onto your clit while two of his feathers come down to play with your nipples—feather-soft brushes against your skin making you keen out into the air, not caring who could possibly walk by and hear the two of you.
“T-this doesn’t mean anything,” you moan out, ass slapping against his thick thighs with each fall of your hips. Your pace slowly dwindles down, hips not lifting as far up as they did before, which is a wrong move because Hawks tightens his hold onto your plush hips and starts moving you.
“C’mon now, birdie. Wanted to ride me so. ride. me.” he slams you down with each word, tip hitting your cervix every time he bottoms out. You throw your head back at the feeling, back arching to the point where your tits are basically smothering him. Not that he cares though, he just happily groans while licking off the sweat that’s beading down the valley of your breasts.
“You’re—shit—dirty,” is all you can get out while he’s bruising your walls, fingers digging into your flesh in a way that you know will leave behind marks the next day. Luckily your hero suit covers it, because otherwise people would definitely know what happened.
Your thighs are starting to strain, knot in your stomach coiling deeper and deeper until it finally snaps. Body trembling above his, walls constricting around him. “Shit— tryna milk me even when you know you can’t get filled?”
He holds your body against him while he plants his feet on the ground. Pummeling his hips into yours, he chases after his own orgasm. You’re whining out at the overstimulation, hips writhing above him trying to get away from the feeling, only for him to lock his arms around your waist, keeping you still for him.
With a groan he finally cums, rubber preventing you from feeling him fill you up. The only sounds filling the room is the two of you greedily gulping in some air, and his feathers twitching against his back—puffing up slightly with affection before they go down again.
That’s the way the two of you begin this… arrangement of sorts.
Instead of taunting about rankings, the two of you began doing… favors for each other. He ate you out after you shot up the rankings again, and you sucked him off when he was still the number two—above your ranking—the next year.
You can still remember the way he was teasing you about sounding hoarse during patrol. Your throat was constricting around him a mere ten minutes before you had to go out, so there was no time to even look for something to soothe your throat.
And then you had the times where he came over just to take his frustrations out on you, hips pummeling into your ass from behind, grunting about how overworked the two of you were. The Commission still on both your asses, giving you assignment after assignment.
Your ass was red and swollen by the time he was done, puffy cunt absolutely abused while he watched his cum drip out of you only for him to lick it out of there mere seconds later.
Sometimes he came inside of you, other times he pulled out just in time, painting your skin with ropes of white, rubber having been ditched after your third time together. You were whining about not being able to feel him, telling him that you were on the pill so he couldn’t get you pregnant anyway—thank you Commission for doing something good for once.
Which is leads you to today, you’re laid out on a bed. Not the small beds the two of you had in the safehouses, nor the couches backstage somewhere or the rough bricks scratching against your back whenever the two of you find yourselves outside again. No this is Hawks’ bed, massive, just to comfortably fit his wings onto.
He’s pounding into your poor, overstimulated pussy. His hips coming down to grind against you before he pulls back and slams back in. The headboard is hit hit hitting the wall behind you, luckily for the two of you he lives in the penthouse, so there will be no noise complaints.
“Fucking hate them,” he grunts while sweat is beading down his temple, wings spread out behind him in a brilliant, crimson arc. Your fingers are clawing at his biceps while he continues his rant. “No, Hawks, it isn’t enough. Nothing you ever do is enough. We’ll just keep on sending you on missions, because that’s why you’re here. To be a hero means to sacrifice,” he mocks one of the handlers.
It’s not often that he reaches out to you, much less when he actually calls you over. Hell, this has been the first time you were even in his apartment, and you had no time to actually admire the place before he had you pinned to the wall already.
Sinking to his knees he muttered out a, need this. need this pussy to suffocate me. before he all but yanked your shorts and panties down in one, swift movement. His lips immediately latched onto your sensitive nub, making your hand fly to his hair while your head thunked! onto the wall behind you.
“Fucking hell, what’s gotten into you?” you asked him through a moan. While he’s eaten you out before, he was never this desperate to get his hands—or in this case lips—on you. It was always filled with teasing and taunting remarks. But this time he just groaned into your mound like it was the answer to all of his questions. “Seriously, Hawks… what happened?”
You’re pulling on his hair trying to get him to at least acknowledge you, but all it did was make him whimper out into your slit while his wings shuddered behind him. Well guess you found out something new about him.
“Commission was on my ass,” he mumbles through licks, his tongue flitting over your clit while one of his hand is groping your ass like it was his personal stress-ball. “Fuck you taste so sweet.”
Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, hips starting to grind down onto his face while he plunged his tongue inside of you, wiggling the muscle around into your tight walls. “Want me t-to talk about it?” you breathed out, swinging one leg over his shoulder—careful not to pin his wing to his back—to give him more access to your slit, which he happily takes, pressing his mouth further into your pussy.
“Jus’ need you right now,” he grunted out, continuing to eat you out. It was messy, spit dribbling past the corners of his mouth while the lower part of his face was shiny with your arousal. “Pussy loves me, doesn’t she?”
You couldn’t answer that, too busy trying to focus on your upcoming orgasm to even think of responding to him talking to your pussy like it was alive instead of just an organ. Gripping his hair even tighter you began gyrating your hips down onto his face which he happily let you, groaning out while he angled his face so his nose would nudge your clit with each roll of your hips.
Once you came on his face—thighs trembling, tummy clenching, moans flowing free out of you—he dragged you to the bed where he took no time to slide into you. You’re still not used to the way he stretches you out, despite it having been years since you first began fucking him.
He’d filled you up once already while you’ve cum three times, weeping pussy sensitive to each roll of his hips, and you can feel your stomach starting to tighten once more.
“Haven’t I sacrificed enough already?” He’s still talking, still asking rhetorical questions that you could answer—that you would answer if he wasn’t pounding you into oblivion—but all you can do is moan out at him. “D-did everything for them.”
Nodding your head you run your hand through his hair, trying to soothe him slightly, but you just tighten your grip once he finds that spongy spot inside of you again, bullying it when he realises he’s found your g-spot once again.
“F-fuck, Hawks. Wait. Feels weird,” you’re trying to get him to slow down, to get that weird feeling building up in your lower stomach to go away, only for him to continue babbling about the Commission and how they ruined his life. If you weren’t so busy you’d give your two cents on it, but you can’t. Legs starting to tremble around his waist while your toes curl.
He presses his thumb to your clit, and that does it. Your orgasm crashes into you like a lighting strike. Clear liquid gushing out of you and onto Hawks’ abs, thighs, balls and bedsheets. Your hands tighten in the sheets beside you while you sob out his name. “Fuck, Keigo— Kei. Pleasepleaseplease. Love you— shit.”
That makes him still. Just completely still against you. You don’t notice, though, too busy riding out your orgasm to even see the way his eyes are wide open, mouth agape. The pleasure shooting through you has you crying, tears rolling down your cheeks and disappearing into the pillows below you.
“What did you just say?” His voice is so small, unlike his normal, cocky self that you finally open your eyes. Blinking a few times you note the way he’s hunched over you right now, a few feathers suspended in the air while his golden eyes look at you like you’re made of glass. He says your name—not birdie, not dove, not your hero name, just your actual name. The one you haven’t heard in years.
“Say it again,” he breathes out, almost begging you. “Please.”
Gulping you look at those golden eyes you’ve seen your entire life, the ones that always meant that you were safe. The ones you’ve hoped to see beside you every day, but got taken away from you when you were a mere seventeen years old.
“I love you,” you murmur, trying to gauge his reaction. The next second his mouth crashed onto yours, plump lips groaning out after he finally tasted you. It’s been ten years. Ten years since the two of you last kissed. You two hadn’t kissed even once after debuting, despite the two of you having been fuck-buddies for years.
It’s filled with warmth and lust, his tongue clashing against yours while you drink up all of his sounds. The wings on his back unfurl and furl back in, almost as if he has no control over what’s happening to them.
“Love you, love you, love you,” he mumbles out against your lips while slowly starting to trust back inside again. The overstimulation has you keening out, but you just wrap your legs further around his waist while pulling him back in. “Mine, all mine.”
His pace picks up, hips snapping against yours once more. One of his hands gropes your breast while the other squeezes your waist, pulling you down to meet every thrust.
Your body is completely pliant against his, bones feeling like jelly with the way he’s made you cum multiple times already. The last sunrays catch your eyes, and it has him gasping out. You look like an angel beneath him—his angel.
He spills inside you not soon after, a second load filling you up. And you coax him through it, hands running through his hair while his lips latch onto your throat.
You thought he’d be done now, but you can feel him twitch inside of you. “Are you still hard?” you whisper, incredulous.
Keigo merely smiles down at you before he pulls out of you, his thick seed immediately bubbling out of you. He gives you no time to even realise what’s going on, picking you up into his arms and setting you down in front of the big window that overlooks the city.
Your body tilts forward, tits pressing against the cool glass while you turn your head to the side to look at the man behind you. “What are you doing?”
“Gonna show everyone you’re mine,” he growls before nudging your knees apart and slips back inside. Your mouth falls open when he starts moving again, the cool glass a stark contrast to your overheating body.
The streets below are still busy, and if someone were to look up they would be able to see the number two absolutely railing the number three hero. Your nipples brush against the smooth surface, adding all the more pleasure to your core.
Inner thighs are slick with a mixture of your and his cum, and you can see him in the reflection of the glass. The crimson almost getting swallowed by the burnt-sienna of the sky outside, but his eyes are transfixed on you. He chuckles when he feels you clench down onto him, walls fluttering uselessly around him. “You like the thought of people seeing you like this?” he murmurs into your ear, breath warm against the shell.
Your hips move back against him, knees weak with the way he knocks you forward with each thrust. Wrapping his arm around you, he lifts you up, feet dangling uselessly above the ground. You gasp out at that—at him using your body like you were merely a doll he could just pick up whenever he wanted.
“Shit— Keigo,” you whine out his name, forehead thumping against the glass, eyes fluttering close when that piercing passes over your sweet-spot with each pass of his hips. Nails leaving angry indents into his forearm.
“I know, dove. I know,” he murmurs against your cheek, he pounds into you from behind like a man possessed. “Let go for me. Show me how much you want me.”
Your eyes roll to the back of your skull, mouth opening in a broken moan that sounds so unlike you. White-hot pleasure shoots through your core, whitening out your vision for what feels like an eternity.
Keigo is not far behind, hips snapping against your ass like a punctuation. “S-shit, trying to milk me for all I’m worth.”
He spills into you for the last time that night. Hips ceasing their ministrations completely, his sweaty chest pressed flush against your back. Letting your head loll back against his shoulder you look at him, tired eyes blinking over his form.
He’s flushed from his face down all the way to his chest. Sweat beads down his body and he’s panting against your neck. His hair is plastered to his forehead, eyes blown out wide.
Moving the two of you back to the bed, he carefully lays you down before walking away, only to return with a washcloth seconds later. He carefully opens your thighs for him and begins to clean you up. You trash slightly at the sensation. “I know, dovey. Will be over soon.”
He throws the washcloth somewhere to the ground, and it lands with a wet schlap! somewhere in the corner of his bedroom—something you’ll probably reprimand him for when you have more energy, but right now you couldn’t care less.
Shuffling into the bed, he pulls you to his chest. One of his wings wraps itself around you—just like old times. It takes you right back to that too-small bed where the two of you would talk into the late hours of the night.
Feathers are twitching against your skin as if trying to kiss your entire body. It makes you relax, body sinking more into his chest while he traces small shapes in your skin.
“That was… a lot,” you mumble out, not quite sure if you should even address it, but you can’t stay silent any longer. The way he said your name, told you he loved you, gave you your old nickname back. It was, quite frankly, a lot. And even if that all didn’t happen, he also made you squirt for the first time. The memory has you flushing bright red.
“Mhmm, nothing I said was untrue, though,” he mumbles out into your hair, pressing his lips feather-soft against the crown of your head. It has you closing your eyes for a few seconds before opening them again.
“Why did you even leave in the first place, Kei?” It’s been bothering you ever since he walked out of that room. The way he was so fidgety, no longer wanting anything to do with you when the two of you only had a few more months before the debut. A few more months and the two of you could’ve just stopped sneaking around.
You can feel him lean back a little, head angled down before his fingers find you chin and nudges your head up so he can look at you. “What are you talking about, dove? You’re the one who told me that we couldn’t be together.”
Furrowing your brows you look at the golden eyes you’ve known your whole life. Shifting slightly—and hissing when you accidentally rub yourself against his thigh—you sit up a little, just enough to look at him.
“No, no. You came into my room telling me it couldn’t work any longer,” you start, eyes darting around his face, confusion settling over you. You can still remember that night vividly, and it was him who broke it off with you. “Said you didn’t have feelings for me and then just… walked out.”
“Now why would I do that when I’ve been in love with you for all of my life?” He asks you, bushy brows furrowed together. There’s a slight crease between them, and you want to rub it away, but you’re still racking your brain.
He continues, voice lower now, more sad, “I came back from that horribly long assignment and you were waiting for me on my bed. At first you were just… quiet. Then you told me that it was a mistake and that it was just the proximity that had made you kiss me.”
You chuckle at that, hollow and sad all at once. “Just the proximity? Keigo I’ve liked you ever since I realised what it meant to have a crush on someone.”
He just purses his lips at that, not moving an inch. The feathers that are still on your back twitch a few times, a shudder going through them that he doesn’t bother to stop.
“Then why would you—” he trails off, golden eyes almost bulging out of his skull with realisation. “The Commission.”
“Wait, what?” You’re confused now. What does the Commission have to do with any of this? It was just you two that knew about everything, the Commission has never even known that you and Keigo even knew each other outside of any assignments.
“Think about it, dove. You’re saying it was me who broke it of, I’m saying it was you—”
“I never broke up with you. God I was so heartbroken.”
“—and neither of us is saying we did that. Hell, we’re both saying we wanted to be together. So what else could it have been? You know how the Commission is, they could get their hands on any quirk user, and I would bet there’s someone who could shapeshift, or something like that.”
You’re still looking at him, mind racing now. You honestly can’t believe neither of you thought about this earlier, but then again the two of you didn’t really talk. Just played stupid games to be close to each other.
“The feather,” you finally breathe out, fingers ghosting over your ribs where he always put the small feather. The one you’ve been missing on your skin for years. “It didn’t float when I threw it back at you. It just… fell to the floor. And ‘you’ picked it up. Picked it up.”
How could you have missed it—that small detail that would tell you something was wrong. Sure he was acting strange, not letting you touch him and just being twitchy in general, but his feathers were the dead giveaway. They never could quite hide everything he wanted to, despite having been trained for years.
How did it never occur to you that he had telepathic feathers and he picked it off the floor rather than just bringing it toward himself.
“You gave that feather back,” he murmurs, his own thumb coming to your ribs. Then a small, sad chuckle falls from his lips. “Even after all the training we’ve had, we still got outsmarted by the suits. Purely because we couldn’t see past our emotions.”
Tears spring to your eyes, because it’s true, isn’t it? You let the emotions get the better of you, throwing out the small feather that could have solved everything. What would’ve happened if you never threw it back at ‘him’ in that fit of anger? Would the two of you still have been best friends? More than best friends? Or would he not have believed you?
“How did they even find out about it?” you whisper. His thumb comes up and wipes away some of the tears that are gathering on your waterline, the action so soft compared to how he used your body mere minutes ago. “We’ve never gotten caught in twelve years.”
“Must’ve been the supply closet,” he answers, pulling you back to lay on his chest. “Maybe they realised that us walking back took longer than needed.”
And how stupid could the two of you have been? Of course they would know how long it takes for the two of you to walk back—especially considering Keigo had left before you and went out of the supply closet after you.
That’s the exact thing the two of you were trained on noticing, patterns and behaviours. Yet it didn’t occur in your minds that they would be using it as well. Didn’t think about much but him at that moment, to be completely honest.
“Can’t believe secret kisses in a supply closet is what has gotten us caught,” you groan out into his chest, the words slightly muffled. And he laughs at that, a small breath through his nose that rattles his chest. “At least you were my first everything.”
“Wait what?” He looks down at you, looks at the way you’re burrowing yourself further into his chest, trying to find his warmth. His wing instinctively tightens around you, feathers whispering against your skin from where they’re puffing up slightly. “You mean to tell me that time on the rooftop was your first time, too?”
You hum slightly, a small, drowsy thing that comes deep from your throat. His words still have to catch up with your brain, but when they finally register your head snaps up. “What do you mean, too?”
“I never fucked anyone beside you,” he says, not even a tremble can be found in his voice. Looking at him for a little while longer, you let a small chuckle escape your lips. He never fucked anyone else?
“Then why do you have a piercing there?” Your leg shifts slightly over him, making him groan out, wing tightening a fraction. He grabs your leg with one hand, halting your movement, because he can already feel blood rush south again—way too sensitive from the multiple rounds the two of you had earlier.
“Got it so I could jerk off faster—why are you laughing, you out of all people should know that we don’t get any time to get any release. Especially with the way the Commission keeps throwing more and more missions at us.”
“It’s just… I thought you had fucked half the population here in Fukuoka City, and here you are telling me you were a virgin and just got a dick piercing to make yourself more sensitive?”
It’s ridiculous, honestly. And everything makes sense—the way he would never respond to your taunts about other girls, just like you wouldn’t respond to any of his taunts since you wouldn’t just tell him he was the one to take your virginity.
“Guess we have a lot of catching up to do, love.” There it is again, that nickname. Not a slip of the tongue as you thought it was ten years ago. He really did call you ‘love’ back then.
Your eyes close against your will, body finally going boneless against him. “Mhmm, but first we should go to sleep.”
“I don’t care what we do as long as I have you beside me,” he murmurs out against your skin, lips brushing your temple—feather-light, almost like it was never there to begin with.
You don’t know what’ll happen tomorrow. All you know is that you got the boy you loved back and that this time nothing will come between the two of you.
thank you for helping this little garden grow to 200+ (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝) To celebrate, as y'all know the drill.... its art raffle time!
✿ how to enter
• follow
• reblog
✿ what you’ll receive
• one (1) custom drawing!
• single character only (no ships/pairings)
• can be your oc or any fandom character
✿ details
two winners (yes, 2 of you!) will be chosen by a little spin of the wheel once again♡ April 18th is your deadline to enter (˚☐˚”)/
- the chosen winners will be contacted privately after the draw ♡ keeping things quieter this time due to some… unnecessary anon commentary before (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)
congrats on 2k!!!!! could we get 21. with Hawks? :3
✦ 鷹見啓悟 ／ mdni
takami keigo ; “you drive me insane／fuck with my head”
your relationship with hawks is at a standstill. you want something more serious, but not only does his PR team desperately want him to maintain his flirty, playboy image, he also has horrendous abandonment issues, which prevents him from wanting to get too close to anyone, even you. you keep trying to pull away, but he’s just so pretty and endearing, and the sex is just so, so good.
“y-you drive me insane, angel … it fucks with my head, you have no idea.” he groans, his eyes nearly rolling back into his skull as he seats himself fully in into your warm, tight heat. his hips languidly pull back and forth to meet yours, dragging deliciously against your walls, making your thoughts blur.
“you’re one to talk.” your words are distant, but your body is eagerly welcoming him into you ; your fingertips softly running along his strong core, feeling as his ribs contract, as his muscles flex with each thrust.
he laughs, a small huff of air against your neck. you don’t want to ruin the moment with your cynicism, but it’s difficult not to. sometimes you can’t help but picture him doing the exact same thing with someone else, someone prettier, with a better body, someone worthy of his full commitment. it hurts.
“it’s only you, and you know that. I think about you every second of every fucking day, whether I’m awake or asleep.” he’s breathless, kissing your jaw and down your neck, moaning sweetly in between soft grunts. he digs in harder, grinding his hips just right to rub your clit, making you gasp.
“m’gonna marry you one day.”
your breath hitches at his words and your pussy flutters, tightening around his thick length. part of you thinks this is just pillow talk, but he’s never said anything that serious before. he chokes a soft cry, whispering, “fuck, just like that. can’t let anyone else have you .. my precious little wife.”
you whine, “m’not worried about that right now, kei .. please just make me cum .. I was close until you opened your mouth.”
he giggles again, always amused when you’re being a brat. “yeah, yeah, I know … I guess I’ve spoiled you too much, huh? my cute little wifey, always gets exactly what she wants from me.”
you shake your head, because that’s far from the truth. “gonna be the prettiest mama ever … I can’t wait to nest up with you, my little love dove.”
“fuck, kei,” you’re quiet, but you really love when he dotes on you like this. you just hope that he means it.
“yeahh, now you don’t want me to stop talking, huh? thaaaat’s it, good girl, keep squeezin’ me like that, m’not gonna last either. god, you have a perfect cunt ... my perfect girl.”
“I’m — !!”
“I know.” he cuts you off, his thrusts perfectly hitting that sweet spot and you cling to him even harder. you’re sobbing into his shoulder as you cum on his pretty cock, thighs trembling, and soaking his abs. he loves it, can’t get enough of it.
he follows soon after you, filling you with his warmth. he meant every single word, and he’s already bought an engagement ring.
⋮ 𓏲ּ𝄢 ┆ a charming and ever-present hawks slowly becomes the only constant in your life, quietly pulling every string until there’s nothing left but him.
⧼ 🚨 ⧽ ∿ pairings 。 ⸝⸝ hawks x fem!reader 𓄲 genre ⨾ tropes 。 alternative universe (au: yandere pro hero), yandere themes, dark romamce, mature themes, explicit sexual scenes, pwp, dub-con 𓏲 contains 。 ᵎᵎ nsfw, 18+ only mdni, language, yandere!hawks, naive!reader, verbal abuse, toxic relationship (?), daddy issues, mommy issues (?), drunken pervs, psychological & emotional manipulation, obsession & possession, power imbalance, jealousy, stalking, threats, lies, smut, dub-con, dry humping, dirty talks, softdom!hawks, sub!reader, oral (f receiving), first time, unprotected piv sex, multiple orgasm, possession kink, missionary, pet names (baby, dove, dovey, little birdie, good girl) ꩜ ⋆.˚ word count 。 13.6k ꔛ
꒰ star speaks ꒱ ✮ another smut?! i’m sorry i’ve been too freaked out recently and hawks has been in my mind for weeks now. . . also, there is not that much yandere hawks content out there and for some reason ( in my opinion ) he is one of the characters in mha that gives off yandere vibes lowkey 👀 this is also a long one! the longest piece i’ve written in this blog so far, so enjoy! ( p.s. and yes hawks get to keep his quirk after the war because i said so and that is how it should have ended #hawksdeservestofly )
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naive.
that was what they called you.
it followed you everywhere, settled into your bones before you even understood what it meant, repeated so often that it stopped sounding like an insult and started sounding like a fact.
it came from your mother’s mouth most of all, sharp and certain, like she was reminding you of something you should already know.
you were born into a household that did not want you.
it was a truth you grew up around, something that lived quietly in the walls of your home. it was obvious just by way your name was said, in the way your presence was tolerated rather than welcomed.
you learned early on not to expect too much. it made things easier.
still, when you were younger, there had been a part of you that hoped.
maybe they will, eventually.
it had been a small thought, fragile and hopeful in a way that children tend to be.
your mother made sure to correct that.
“it’s naive of you to think we would care for you,” she told you more than once, her voice cold and steady as if she was stating something obvious. “after everything you did.”
you had not understood that at first. you had not understood how you could have done anything at all. but she always said it with such certainty that you believed her.
your family had been happy once.
you knew that because they never let you forget it. they had been complete when it was just the three of them. your father, your mother, and your older sister.
your sister was everything a first daughter should be. she was smart in a way that drew praise without effort, talented in ways that people noticed immediately, and sweet enough to charm anyone she met. she was the kind of child people pointed at and admired.
your parents had loved her openly.
when your mother became pregnant again a few years later, they had been excited. your mother would tell that story often, though never kindly. she would talk about how happy they had been, how hopeful, how everything felt right.
for some reason, all three of them had wanted a boy.
your father had wanted a son, your mother had wanted to give him one, while your sister had wanted a little brother to dote on.
it had been something they agreed on completely.
your mother’s first pregnancy had been easy. she would say that with a kind of fondness that never extended to you. she had glowed, she said. she had been healthy, beautiful, admired. everything had gone smoothly.
with you, it had been different.
you grew up hearing every complaint.
your mother had been sick constantly. she had been weaker, more tired than she had ever been before. she would press a hand to her stomach when she spoke about it, her expression twisting in remembered irritation.
“you were unbearable,” she would say. “you kicked too much. you made everything harder.”
she said she had no glow that time. she said she looked awful, that her skin dulled, that her body felt like it was failing her. she said people noticed.
she said your father notice and then she would look at you as she recalled the story.
“he didn’t find me attractive anymore,” she told you once, years later, her voice cutting you sharply that it made you go still. “men don’t stay with women they don’t want.”
you remember standing there, small and quiet, trying to understand.
“i-i don’t… i thought—” you started, uncertain, your voice soft.
she didn’t let you finish.
“don’t be stupid,” she snapped. “it’s naive and stupid of you to think a man would want an ugly woman!”
the words settled somewhere deep in your chest.
naive and stupid.
they always seemed to come together when it came to you. one followed the other so naturally that you stopped separating them.
your mother stayed with your father during the pregnancy even though she knew he was cheating. she knew and she stayed, and yet somehow, you were still the one she called naive and stupid.
you never questioned it out loud, you learned not to.
the final disappointment came when you were born.
you were not the boy they had wanted.
you were another girl.
your mother would not say much about that day without bitterness. she would mention the silence in the room, the way expectations had collapsed in an instant. she would talk about how things could have been different if only things had gone the way they were supposed to.
they could have tried again. that was something she said too. but your birth had made that nearly impossible.
her body had struggled with the pregnancy. the delivery had been worse. she would tell you that she almost died bringing you into the world, her tone sharp, like it was something you should feel responsible for.
after that, she could not carry another child.
she could not give your father the son he wanted.
so he left.
it did not happen immediately, but it happened soon enough that the connection was easy to make. at least for her.
“you drove him away!” your mother told you.
it was said so simply.
you were the reason she was no longer attractive enough for him. you were the reason she could not give him more children. you were the reason he was gone.
you accepted it since you did not know what else to do.
your sister accepted it too, though in a different way. she had lost something she valued, and you had been there when it happened. you had been the cause, at least in her eyes.
she had been a daddy’s girl.
she never let you forget that either.
your life, for the most part, was okay.
you had a home, you were fed, you were clothed, even if most of what you wore had belonged to your sister first. her old clothes, her old toys, things that had already served their purpose before they reached you. she always got the new ones.
you went to school, you had an education.
you told yourself that it was enough.
there are people who have it worse.
that thought came easily. it made everything simpler to accept.
aside from the occasional harsh words, aside from the way your presence seemed to irritate more than comfort, everything was manageable.
you believed the only reason your mother kept you was because you looked like him.
you had heard it before, from others who had seen you, from passing comments that were not meant to hurt.
you were your father’s image.
you thought, for a while, that it might make your mother treat you better. she had loved him, even after everything. she had stayed and she had endured.
you thought maybe seeing him in you would soften something in her.
it didn’t.
if anything, it made things worse.
you started to understand that love and hate were closer than you thought. they sat beside each other, easily confused, easily mixed. maybe that was why she looked at you the way she did. maybe she saw him, and everything he had done, and she needed somewhere to put that anger… she needed someone to blame.
you were there… you were always there.
things only got worse when you turned five. that was the age when quirks usually began to show.
you waited for it. you thought maybe, just maybe, something would happen that would change the way they looked at you.
it didn’t.
days passed. then weeks. then months.
nothing.
your mother noticed. “of course,” she said one day, her voice filled with a cruel kind of satisfaction. “the gods are good for punishing you.”
you stood there, small and silent, not fully understanding what punishment she meant, but knowing it was something you had earned in her eyes.
your sister, who had already begun developing her own quirk a few years ago, was less subtle.
your sister had something beautiful, something admired, and something she would go on to brag about often.
she looked at you like you were a disappointment. “it’s naive of you to think someone like you would get a quirk. of course your didn’t!” she said, her tone light, almost amused.
you remember that moment clearly. you remember the certainty in her voice, you remember how it felt like the truth.
you could hear how much she despised you. their words did not feel like guesses or opinions. they felt loud and right.
that was what made them hurt.
your mother did not take you to a doctor. she did not question it your lack of quirk and she did not try to find an answer. she accepted it immediately.
you were useless.
from that point on, they stopped trying with you.
your mother rarely spoke to you unless she had to. your sister treated you like something beneath her attention. you became background, something that existed but did not matter.
you were pulled out of school not long after. your mother said it was easier that way. tutors were brought in instead.
if it had been entirely up to her, you would not have had that either. but she still saw use in you, even if it was not immediate. you needed to be educated enough to serve whatever purpose she had in mind for you later in the future.
so you stayed at home.
always at home.
your world became smaller without you fully realizing it at first. rooms you knew too well, routines that repeated endlessly, days that blended into each other without anything new to mark them.
your mother took you out occasionally, usually when she went somewhere with your sister. she did not like leaving you alone too much. she did not trust you enough for that, though you never gave her a reason not to.
and yet, you followed quietly, never complaining, never asking for more.
over time, it became clear.
the doors of your cage had closed and they had no intention of opening again.
… or so you thought.
you are older when it finally happens. you had finally graduated in high school with quiet grades and quiet applause because you very much homeschooled, so your graduation consisted of your teacher congratulating you and leaving you alone at home. then, when you found a decent job it feels less like a victory and more like a door cracking open just enough for you to slip through without anyone noticing.
that was the one and only time your cage opened.
you remember the weight of your first paycheck in your hands, the paper thin slip that somehow felt heavier than anything you had ever held before, and you remember staring at it for a long time as if it might disappear if you blinked, because this is yours, and that thought alone feels strange in your chest.
after getting your first pay check you got your own apartment.
it was small and plain and far from anything remarkable, but it was yours, and when you stepped inside for the first time with your key in your hand and no one watching you, no one telling you where to stand or how to breathe, you stood in the middle of the empty room and felt something unfamiliar settle in your chest.
you were shocked your mom even allowed you to move in the first place.
you expected resistance, expected sharp words and tighter chains, but instead she had only looked at you once and said nothing more than a dismissive hum, and later you would realize that it made sense, because she probably wanted to get rid of you for a while now.
finally you were free… until you realized you were not.
naive, you thought.
because after a few weeks after moving, after you had started to get used to the silence of your apartment and the absence of footsteps outside your door, your phone rang, and the name on the screen was one you could never ignore.
your mother called you for dinner and ordered you to be there.
there was no invitation in her tone, no softness, just expectation, and you followed orders easily as if it was written into you somewhere deep, something ingrained so thoroughly that you did not even think to refuse.
you showed up at your childhood home on time, shoes quiet against the familiar floor, and the shock was immediate when you stepped inside and saw a man sitting at the table next to your older sister.
your father.
this was the first time you had ever seen him in person.
you had grown up with pictures, with fragments of a man who existed only in frames and stories that never included you, and now he was here, real and breathing and laughing softly at something your sister said.
your mother was happy.
they were all happy.
you could see it clearly in their faces, in the way their expressions softened and their shoulders relaxed, and there was something else beneath it, something you could not quite name but could feel pressing against your thoughts like a whisper just out of reach.
then they turned to you and the mood went down.
their faces changed quick and obvious, smiles fading just enough, eyes sharpening just slightly, and you stood there at the edge of it all like something that did not belong.
your mother spoke first, her voice flat and cold as if she was reciting something unimportant.
“your sister saved your father during a patrol,” she said, not even looking at you properly, “he was laid off from his job and had nowhere to stay, and he said he misses me and your sister, so he is here to stay.”
naive, you thought. stupid.
you nodded as if that was enough, as if that explanation filled the space that had opened in your chest, and you took your seat quietly while the three of them continued talking like nothing had changed.
you pretty much dissociated through the entire dinner while they caught up.
their voices blurred together into something distant, laughter rising and falling while you picked at your food and stared at nothing, and you could see how everything looked normal between the three of them, how easy it was, how natural, and it was clear they left you out on purpose.
why did they even invite me? you thought.
after a couple of hours, you were free once more.
you stood up when it felt appropriate, said your quiet goodbyes that were barely acknowledged, and stepped out into the night with the door closing behind you like it always had.
you headed home… your home.
mine.
it was dark and cold out. it settles into your skin and lingers. the sun had long since set, leaving the sky stretched out above you in deep shades that felt too wide and too empty.
your head snapped upwards to the sky without thinking, your eyes tracing something unseen, something that tugged at your attention just for a second before it slipped away, and then you started walking again.
it was just your luck that you had to pass an alleyway in the dark to get across to your apartment.
you clutched your jacket closer to your body as you sped up your pace, footsteps quick and quiet against the ground, your eyes fixed ahead as if that alone would get you through faster.
then you heard it, a drunken slur from behind you, voice thick and careless.
“hey… pretty thing…”
your steps faltered and before you could move away, before you could even think, you were surrounded.
three men, all reeking of alcohol and something worse, closing in around you with grins that made your stomach twist.
“where you goin’ all alone, huh?” one of them laughed, stepping too close.
“don’t be shy,” another added, his voice low and mocking, “we just wanna talk.”
one was twirling a strand of your hair between his fingers, the touch making your skin crawl, while another leaned too close to your neck, breath hot and disgusting, and the third stood behind you, blocking any escape.
“soft,” the one at your hair murmured, “real soft…”
“bet she sounds real pretty too,” the one near your neck added with a laugh.
your voice came out small, shaking despite your attempt to steady it. “please… stop. just let me go… i’m just heading home.”
they only laughed.
“aw, don’t be like that,” one of them said, his hand brushing your arm, “we’re just getting started.”
you squeezed your eyes shut.
then suddenly, swoosh.
the hands on you vanished.
you opened your eyes slowly, confusion cutting through your fear, and what you saw did not make sense at first.
the three men were no longer around you.
they were across the alley, pinned to the wall opposite you, yelling and grunting as they struggled against something that held them in place.
crimson feathers. multiple of them, sharp and precise, pinning their clothes and limbs to the wall like they were nothing.
then you heard it, a charming drawl from above you, light and almost amused.
“now, now… harassing a lady,” the voice said lazily, “that’s pretty low, even for you guys.”
you gasped as you heard a rush of air, a soft but powerful whoosh before someone landed behind you.
you turned and there he was.
a man with big, beautiful red wings that spread slightly behind him, feathers catching the dim light as they shifted, and your eyes lifted to meet sharp, bird-like golden brown eyes that were already looking at you.
his blonde hair was messy in a way that looked intentional, there was also something effortless about the way he stood there, like the entire situation was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.
he smiled down at you.
“hey there, little birdie,” he said, voice warm and teasing, “you okay? what are you doing wandering around a place like this? hm?”
you just stared at him, your breath caught somewhere between your lungs and your throat, and it took a second before recognition hit you.
you knew him.
number three pro hero hawks.
you did not know much about heroes, not really, but your sister never stopped talking about him ever since he made his debut, and the memories came back all at once.
her voice, excited and loud. “we live in kyushu and i still haven’t him around patrolling, can you believe that? i swear if i see him one day, i might die!”
and then at one point when she graduated u.a. and became a pro.
“can you believe it?! i mean, what do you mean he doesn’t take sidekicks? i didn’t even get to speak to him, his assistant just told me he’s not accepting anyone right now!”
your sister had never taken no for an answer before. you remembered how she threw a tantrum that day.
and now here he was.
and you were the one seeing him first.
your thoughts were cut off when he spoke again, tilting his head slightly as he studied your expression.
“wow,” he hummed lightly, “did i break you, or am i just that attractive?”
your face warmed instantly. “i… um… thank you,” you said softly, your voice barely steady, “for… helping me…”
hawks chuckled at that, the sound light in your ears. “of course,” he replied, his tone softer now, “everything’s fine now. you don’t have to worry, i’ve taken care of everything. you’re safe.”
only then did you notice the police arriving behind you, moving quickly to take the three men from the wall, their voices sharp as they handled the situation, but your attention stayed on him.
his eyes did not leave you.
“so,” he said, gaze steady as he spoke, “where are you headed? i can take you there safely.”
you hesitated for a second before answering.
“i… i’m just going home,” you said, pointing slightly across the street, “that apartment building… over there.”
hawks followed your gesture, then nodded once. “got it,” he said easily, “come on, wrap your arms around my neck.”
you blinked, confused, but you did it anyway.
your arms lifted slowly, settling around his neck as instructed, and before you could question it further, he moved.
he scooped you up effortlessly, holding you close.
“good girl,” he murmured, almost under his breath.
your heart stuttered.
“don’t be scared,” he continued, his voice low and reassuring, “just look at me, you’ll be fine.”
you followed his words without thinking, your gaze lifting to meet his again, and he hummed softly, something pleased in the sound.
then suddenly, air rushed against your face.
you gasped, your grip tightening instinctively as the ground disappeared beneath you, and when you glanced behind you, you saw it.
his wings.
moving, powerful and controlled, feathers shifting with precision as he carried you through the air like it was nothing.
it was unreal.
“first time flying?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.
“uhm, y-yes…” you admitted quietly.
“you’re doing great,” he said, smiling slightly, “not even screaming. i’m impressed.”
you looked back at him, still holding on. “it’s… nice,” you said, your voice soft with wonder.
freeing.
hawks chuckled. “yeah,” he replied, “it has its perks.”
it did not take long before the building you pointed out came into view, and he slowed as he hovered near it.
“what floor?” he asked.
“seventeenth,” you answered.
“alright,” he said, nodding, “go ahead and head up.”
you blinked in confusion as he lowered you to the ground near the entrance, but before you could ask anything, he was already moving.
you watched as he flew upward, wings carrying him effortlessly until he reached the balcony of the seventeenth floor, landing lightly on the railing.
he looked down at you. “well?” he called out, voice carrying easily, “get your pretty little behind up here so i can make sure you get in safely.”
you nodded quickly and headed inside.
when you finally step back into your apartment building, your shoes sound too loud against the polished floor.
you make your way to the elevator, pressing the button with careful fingers, and when the doors slide open you step inside and press the number seventeen. the ride up is slow, and your reflection in the mirrored walls stares back at you with wide eyes that still have not settled from everything that just happened. your chest rises and falls unevenly, and you bring a hand up to it without thinking, as if you can steady your heart by holding it in place.
naive, you think again.
the word comes easily now, almost like a reflex.
when the elevator doors open, you step out into the quiet hallway and walk toward your apartment. the key trembles slightly between your fingers as you unlock the door, and when you finally step inside, the silence wraps around you in a way that feels both comforting and heavy.
you move quickly, your steps light as you cross the apartment and push open the sliding glass door that leads to your balcony. the cool night air greets you, brushing against your skin as you step outside.
and there he is.
hawks is perched casually on the railing as if he belongs there, as if seventeen floors above the ground is nothing more than a comfortable seat. his wings shift slightly behind him, the crimson feathers catching the faint glow of the city lights, and his sharp golden-brown eyes are already on you.
watching.
they move over you slowly, taking you in from head to toe in a way that makes your breath hitch before you even realize it.
you step closer, stopping just in front of him, and your hands come together in front of you as you look up at him.
“thank you. you really didn’t have to wait for me here,” you say softly, your voice gentle as you meet his gaze.
he lets out a quiet chuckle as he tilts his head slightly. “hey, no need to thank me to much,” he replies, his tone light and smooth. “it’s kind of my job, you know.”
you nod quickly, as if that makes sense, even though it still feels like more than that.
“i still want to,” you murmur, your fingers tightening together. “you saved me back there and here you are making sure i get home safe. i don’t think all heroes would do that… take me home, i mean.”
his eyes soften just a fraction, and then that familiar teasing smile returns to his lips as he leans forward slightly. “careful, little birdie,” he says, his voice dropping just enough to make your chest tighten. “if you keep looking at me like that, i might start thinking you like me or something.”
you blink at him, tilting your head slightly in confusion. “like… you?” you repeat, your voice uncertain.
hawks pauses for a second, then lets out a quiet laugh, clearly amused. “yeah,” he says, waving a hand lightly as if brushing it off. “don’t worry your pretty little head about it. i’m just messing with you.”
you nod again, accepting that answer easily.
“i’m just glad you’re okay and nothing bad happened to you back there,” he continues, his tone softer now as his gaze lingers on your face. “you shouldn’t be walking through places like that alone, especially this late.”
“i didn’t mean to,” you reply quietly. “it was just the fastest way home.”
he hums at that, his wings shifting slightly behind him. “still,” he says, his voice gentle but firm. “try to avoid dark alleyways from now on, alright?”
“i will,” you say immediately, nodding.
you eyes drift again, almost without thinking, drawn back to his wings. up close, they look even more unreal than you imagined. the feathers catch the light in a way that makes them seem almost too perfect, and you find yourself staring.
hawks notices.
of course he does.
a small hum leaves him, and his smile turns just a little more knowing. “you wanna touch them?” he asks casually, his voice laced with quiet amusement.
your head snaps back up to look at him, your eyes widening slightly. “i can?” you ask, your voice soft but hopeful despite the hesitation.
he chuckles again, clearly entertained by your reaction. “go ahead,” he says, shifting slightly to give you better access. “they won’t bite… i don’t either.”
you step closer, moving between his legs as he remains perched on the railing. his eyes never leave you, watching every small movement you make as if he finds it all interesting.
you hesitate for a moment, your hands hovering just inches away from the feathers as you glance up at him again, almost like you reading his mind and asking for permission one more time.
hawks nods, his voice dropping to something softer, coaxing. “it’s okay,” he murmurs. “you can touch.”
slowly, carefully, your fingers make contact with the red feathers.
the softness surprises you immediately. your breath catches as your fingers sink slightly into the feathers, and you gently run your hand along them, your movements light and curious.
“they’re really soft,” you say quietly, your voice filled with genuine wonder. “and… really beautiful.”
a low sound escapes him, almost like a purr, and you feel the subtle shift of his wings beneath your touch as he shivers slightly.
“yeah?” he murmurs, his voice quieter now. “you think so?”
your nod, still focused on the feathers. “they’re the prettiest wings i’ve ever seen,” you add, your tone completely sincere.
hawks lets out a soft laugh, clearly pleased. “careful,” he says lightly. “keep talking like that and i might keep you for myself.”
you glance up at him again, confusion flickering across your face. “keep me?” you repeat.
he meets your gaze, his eyes sharp with amusement before he shakes his head slightly. “you’re something else,” he mutters under his breath, though there is no real insult behind it.
you tilt your head again, unsure what he means.
he watches you for a moment longer before letting out a quiet sigh, though his smile never fades. “i’d stay longer,” he says, his tone shifting slightly as he straightens up. “but I’ve still got work to do.”
you pull your hands back slowly, your fingers lingering in the air for a moment before dropping to your sides.
“oh,” you say softly. “okay.”
there is a small pause, and then you look up at him again.
“will i… see you again?” you ask, your voice hesitant.
hawks’ sharp eyes narrow slightly in a teasing way, and he leans forward just a bit. “oh? what’s this?” he says, a smirk tugging at his lips. “already getting attached to me?”
your eyes widen immediately, and you shake your head quickly. “no, i just…” you start, your words stumbling over each other. “i mean, i’m just thankful, and… i don’t really talk to people much, so…”
your voice trails off, and you look down slightly.
he watches you closely, something unreadable flickering in his eyes before it softens.
he stands, stepping closer to you, and the space between you disappears easily. “do you want me to visit you again? is that it?” he asks, his voice quieter now, almost gentle as he reaches up and tucks a loose strand of your hair behind your ear.
you nod without hesitation. “yes, please,” you say softly.
his smile widens just a little. “so polite,” he replies. “alright. anything you want.”
your chest tightens at those words, something warm blooming inside you in a way you do not fully understand. your fingers curl slightly at your sides as you look at him, that feeling settling deep in your chest.
anything you want.
you have never heard that before.
he notices the way your expression shifts, the way you hold onto those words, and something in his gaze sharpens just slightly.
then, without warning, one of his feathers loosens from his wing. it drifts down slowly, swaying gently in the air before landing in your open palm.
you stare at it, your brows furrowing slightly in confusion as you look back up at him.
“that’s for you,” he says, his tone soft but deliberate. “a promise.”
“a promise?” you repeat quietly.
hawks nods. “that i’ll come back,” he explains, his eyes locking onto yours. “so you better keep it safe for me, alright? keep it with you at all times. can you do that for me?”
you nod immediately. “i will,” you say, your voice certain. “i promise.”
he watches you for a moment longer before continuing, his tone still light but carrying something underneath it. “i might not be able to visit as often as i want,” he says. “being a hero keeps me busy. gotta chase bad guys and all that.”
you nod again, listening carefully.
“but i’m working on making a world where heroes got more time on their hands,” he adds, a small smile forming. “maybe then i can come see you whenever you want.”
you look down at the feather in your hand, your fingers gently closing around it. “okay,” you say softly. “i understand. thank you.”
“just stay safe,” he tells you, his voice firm again. “and be careful, alright?”
“i will,” you reply. “you be safe too.”
that earns you another quiet chuckle.
“you’re the sweetest little thing i’ve ever met,” he says, his tone warm. “don’t worry about me. i’ll be just fine.”
hawks steps back slightly, his wings shifting as he prepares to leave. “see you around, little birdie,” he adds, his voice dipping back into that teasing tone of his.
“goodbye,” you say, lifting your hand slightly in a small wave.
he winks at you, and then he drops from the balcony, and for a brief second your heart jumps into your throat before you rush forward, gripping the railing as you look down.
you catch sight of him immediately.
his wings spread wide, catching the air as he rises effortlessly into the night sky.
you watch him go, your eyes following his figure as it grows smaller and smaller against the darkness.
your hand tightens around the feather, pressing it gently against your chest as your other hand comes up to stroke along its soft surface without thinking. you do not notice the way your movements are slow and absentminded, your fingers tracing the feather over and over again.
high above, too far for you to see clearly, hawks slows and his wings falter for just a moment. a sharp breath leaves him, and a smirk pulls at his lips as a shiver runs through his entire body at the sensation of your touch.
his eyes half-lid, his expression darkening with quiet satisfaction. “sweet dove,” he murmurs under his breath.
and then he keeps flying.
hawks became a permanent part of your life from then on out… keigo, you mean.
he told you to call him by his real name.
about a week later after your initial first meeting, just like he said, he came back.
you had been sitting on your couch, the quiet of your apartment wrapping around you like it always did, when a soft knock came from your balcony door, and when you turned, he was already there, crouched casually on the railing like he belonged there.
your face lit up before you could stop it. “hawks!”
“miss me?” he asked, grinning.
“…you came back,” you said, your voice soft with something close to relief.
he stepped inside like it was natural, like your space had already become his. “promise you i would, didn’t i?” he replied easily. then he tilted his head slightly, studying you. “and hey,” he added after a moment, his tone shifting just enough to catch your attention, “drop the hawksthing, yeah?”
you blinked. “…what? is that not you name?”
he smiled, something a little more deliberate now. “call me keigo,” he said, his voice low, almost coaxing, “not a lot of people get to do that.”
you hesitated. “is that… okay?” you asked quietly.
his gaze softened and it made your chest feel warm.
“you’re special, birdie,” he said simply, like it was obvious, “so yeah, it’s more than okay.”
special.
the word settled into you too easily.
“…keigo,” you repeated softly, testing it.
his wings shifted behind him, feathers rustling faintly.
“there you go,” he murmured, pleased.
from that moment on, he stopped being just a hero who saved you in an alley, he became your saving grace.
keigo visited often, as often as his schedule allowed, sometimes dropping by late at night with tired eyes and messy hair, sometimes in the middle of the day with that same easy smile, always finding his way back to your balcony like it was second nature. and every time he came, he brought something with him.
he’d bring you food you had never tried before, neatly packed and still warm.
“you don’t eat enough,” he would say, setting it down in front of you, “gotta take care of you, alright?”
you would look at it, then at him. “…you didn’t have to,” you would reply softly.
he would shrug like it was nothing. “wanted to feed you,” he’d say, then glance at you with a small smile, “just eat for me, okay?”
and you always did.
he spoiled you in ways you did not even recognize at first.
new clothes appearing in your closet after you mentioned once that you did not have much.
“saw these and thought of you,” he would say casually, leaning against your wall as you held the fabric in your hands.
“…they look expensive, keigo,” you would murmur.
he would huff a quiet laugh. “don’t worry about that,” he’d reply, his eyes on you, “just wanna see you wear them.”
“…for you?” you would ask, genuinely confused.
his smile would tilt slightly. “yeah,” he’d say softly, “for me.”
you would nod like that made perfect sense.
keigo took care of you in ways that felt natural, slipping into your routine without asking.
he would fix things around your apartment without you noticing until it was done.
“your window was loose,” he’d say, brushing it off, “didn’t like that, so i fixed it for you.”
you would blink. “…i didn’t even notice.”
“i did,” he’d reply simply.
of course he did.
there were moments where his protectiveness showed more clearly.
it was subtle at first.
he would ask about your job, about your coworkers, his tone light but his eyes sharp.
“anyone bothering you there?” he’d ask, leaning back as if it did not matter.
“no, not really,” you would answer honestly.
he would watch you for a second longer than necessary. “good,” he’d say quietly.
then sometimes it would less subtle.
one evening, when you mentioned a coworker who walked you home once, his expression shifted just slightly.
“he what?” keigo asked, his voice still calm but lower now.
“…he just walked me home,” you said, unsure why it mattered, “it was late…”
keigo’s sharp golden brown eyes stayed on you. “you don’t need that,” he said, a little firmer, “i’ll take you.”
“but you’re busy and i don’t want to bother you,” you replied.
he stepped closer. “i’ll make time for you,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument, “don’t trust just anyone, okay? don’t want you getting in trouble again.”
you nodded, his explanation making your heart flutter. “okay. i’m sorry, kei. i promise not to trust anyone that easily again.”
no one in your entire existence in this world has been worried for you than keigo. no one took care of you like he did. he had your best interest at heart. he always did.
keigo also praised you often, his words soft and warm, wrapping around you in a way that felt unfamiliar but comforting.
“you’re so good for me,” he would murmur when you listened to him without question.
your cheeks would warm. “really? i am?” you would ask.
he would smile. “yeah,” he’d say, his voice gentle, “exactly how i like you.”
you never questioned what that meant.
there were moments where something in him slipped.
small at first.
his eyes lingering too long. his smile stretching just a little too wide when you said something that aligned with what he wanted.
then moments that were harder to ignore.
one night, you heard the key jiggled in the lock, followed by a heavy, weary sigh you’d learned to recognize from down the hall. you were already at the door of your small apartment, a smile on your face, before keigo even pushed it open.
he leaned against the frame, his usually pristine hero costume rumpled, a smudge of soot on his cheek, his wings drooping slightly, a dramatic show of exhaustion he only ever displayed for you. his golden brown eyes, however, were sharp and warm as they landed on you.
“long day?” you asked softly, your heart doing its familiar, happy flip at the sight of him.
“the longest, dove,” he groaned, pushing off the frame and stepping inside, letting the door swing shut behind him. he stretched his arms over his head with a wince, his wings flexing. “chased a speed-type villain across three prefectures. my feathers are screaming. my everything is screaming.”
you clicked your tongue sympathetically, already moving to the kitchen. “i made tea. and there’s that salve for your wing joints you like.”
you’d spent half your allowance on it, wanting to have it ready for him.
before you could take two steps, his arms were around you from behind. he buried his face in the crook of your neck with a contented hum.
“you’re too good to me,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “taking such good care of me. no one’s ever looked after me like this.”
your cheeks flushed with pleasure. no one had ever said things like that to you before keigo.
your family had made it clear you were a burden, an afterthought.
but hawks… keigo saw you.
he praised you. he brought you gifts, took you to nice places, told you how special you were, told you how good you were. he’d saved you from that alleyway a few months ago now, and ever since, he’d woven himself into the fabric of your life, becoming your entire world.
“it’s nothing,” you whispered, leaning back into his solid warmth.
“it’s everything to me,” he corrected, his voice soft but firm. then, in one smooth motion, he turned you in his arms and lifted you.
you let out a small squeak of surprise, instinctively wrapping your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck. he carried you effortlessly into the living area, not towards the couch, but just holding you, swaying slightly.
keigo’s hands began to roam, caressing your back through your thin sweater, sliding down to squeeze your thighs where they hugged him.
it was more intimate than usual, but everything with keigo felt intense.
he nuzzled your cheek, then placed a soft kiss there. then another on your jaw. then his lips found the sensitive spot below your ear, and instead of a kiss, you felt the gentle scrape of his teeth, followed by the warm, wet suction of his mouth.
a jolt, strange and electric, shot down your spine. “k-keigo?” you stammered, confusion lacing your voice.
“hmm?” he hummed against your skin, not stopping. his kisses trailed down your neck, each one punctuated by a soft bite or a lingering suck.
a heat was pooling low in your belly, unfamiliar and confusing.
“s-should we— is… is this okay?” you asked, your fingers tightening in the fabric of his hero suit at his shoulders.
he pulled back just enough to look at you, his sharp eyes glowing with a tenderness that made your chest ache. “of course it’s okay, dove,” he said, his thumb stroking your cheek. “friends do this. close friends who care about each other. don’t yours?”
the question, asked so innocently, felt like a punch to the gut.
you looked down, shame heating your face. “y-you know that i… i don’t have any other friends,” you admitted in a small voice.
keigo’s expression softened into something heartbreakingly sympathetic. he leaned in, brushing his nose against yours. “that’s okay,” he whispered, his voice a velvet-coated promise. “you don’t need anyone else. you have me. i’ll always be here for you. i’ll take care of you.”
the words sank into you, warm in your chest.
of course, he was teaching you. showing you how friends acted. how could you doubt him?
reassured, you relaxed in his hold and he took that as permission to continue.
keigo carried you towards your bedroom, your legs still locked around him. he didn’t put you down on the bed. instead, he sat on the edge, keeping you straddling his lap.
you could feel the hard planes body through his hero suit against your core, a persistent and strange pressure.
“tell me about your day, birdie. what did you do today?” he prompted, his hands sliding under your sweater to splay against the bare skin of your back.
“o-oh, it was fine,” you said, trying to focus as he began to kiss along your collarbone, his lips leaving faint, stinging marks. “i finished that book you gave me. the one about the stars.”
“yeah? did you like it?” he asked, his voice slightly muffled against your skin. his hips shifted subtly beneath you, creating a slow, grinding friction that made you gasp.
“y-yes,” you breathed, the word ending in a sigh as he found a particularly sensitive spot on your neck and sucked hard.
the pressure between your legs was building, a weird, tight, tingly feeling. “it was… beautiful. k-kei… i feel… weird.”
“how do you feel, little bird?” he coaxed, one hand leaving your back to cradle your face, forcing you to meet his gaze. his other arm held you firmly against him, controlling the slow, rocking motion of your bodies.
“tingly and hot,” you confessed, squirming slightly in his lap, which only intensified the maddening friction.
a dark, pleased smile touched his lips. “that’s a good thing,” he assured you, his voice a low purr right by your ear. “it means you feel safe with me. it means your body trusts me. just relax for me and let me take care of you. friends help each other feel good, don’t they?”
you nodded, dazed by the sensation and his hypnotic voice. “they do?”
“of course they do,” he said, his rhythm becoming more deliberate now. the hard length of him, confined by his pants, rubbed insistently against the seam of your own, stoking the confusing fire inside you. “you make me feel so good, taking care of me. let me make you feel good too. just do what feels natural. move with me.”
you obeyed without question, trusting him completely. you let your head fall back as he kissed and bit his way across your throat, leaving a trail of blooming marks. you tentatively rocked your hips against his, following his lead.
“that’s it,” he praised, his breath coming faster. “you’re so perfect. so good for me. my sweet, perfect little bird.”
keigo's words fed the strange, coiling tension in your core. the tingles became sparks, the heat a low burn. you whined, a high, confused sound. “kei… it’s… i don’t understand…”
“shhh,” he soothed, capturing your lips in a deep, claiming kiss that stole the rest of your words. his tongue swept into your mouth, and you moaned into him, the sensation overwhelming. “don’t think too much, just feel. let go for me, dove.”
the combination of his commanding praise, the relentless friction, and the dizzying intimacy was too much. the coil snapped and a wave of pure, shocking pleasure crashed through you, stealing your breath and your vision. you cried out against his mouth, your body seizing, trembling violently in his arms as unfamiliar convulsions of ecstasy rippled through you.
he held you through it, his own movements slowing to gentle rocks, coaxing you through every last pulse. he kissed your temple, your closed eyelids, whispering praises. “good girl, so perfect. see? i told you it was okay. you did so well for me.”
as the aftershocks subsided, you lay boneless against him, utterly spent and extremely confused. you felt spent, wrung out, and yet… wonderful.
keigo had made you feel good. he was right.
you felt him shift beneath you, a low, groan escaping him. you blinked open heavy-lidded eyes. “are… are you okay?” you asked softly, concerned. “did i… help you feel better too?”
his smile was bright and full of fond warmth. he brushed your sweaty hair from your forehead. “more than you know, sweetheart,” he said, his voice thick with something you couldn’t name. “you help me more than anyone ever has.” he said.
yet after all of that, you still feel the tingly feeling, and a flush crept up your neck at the feeling. you shifted slightly on his lap, and the ghost of that feeling sparked again, making you gasp softly.
keigo's eyes sharpened, missing nothing. his hand, which had been stroking your arm, stilled. “what is it?” he asked, his tone gentle but probing.
“i-it's nothing,” you sighed as you hid your face in the crook of his neck.
he tutted before he gently pulled your head from it's hiding space in his neck. “look at me when i speak to you, dove. you can tell me anything, you know that. no secrets between us, remember?”
you bit your lip, looking away from him.
it felt silly, childish what you are feeling.
he’d said it was normal, that friends did that and took care of each other. but it didn’t feel like just friendship. It felt… huge, like it's a bigger deal. and it hadn’t really gone away.
“i… i still feel… funny, kei,” you admitted in a small voice, unable to meet his gaze. “hot and tingly. down here.” you gestured vaguely toward your lower stomach.
instead of laughing or dismissing you, keigo's expression softened into one of profound understanding. he cupped your cheek, turning your face back to his. “oh, my poor dovey,” he said, his thumb stroking your skin. “that’s okay. that just means your body liked it. it means you trust me. and like i said, best friends help each other with everything. even things that feel confusing. do you want me to help you with it? hm?”
the offer was wrapped in such tenderness, such unwavering support and understanding that it didn't help your case as you squirmed even more on his lap.
this was hawks. your keigo. your hero. your savior. the only person who had ever looked at you and seen something worth cherishing. how could you doubt his help?
you nodded, a hesitant, tiny movement. “yes, please.”
his smile was like the sun breaking through clouds. “such a sweet girl” he praised, and the words sent a fresh shiver through you. “just relax, okay? let me take care of you. you don’t have to do anything. you’re so good for me just by being here.”
he scooped you up and properly sat you on his lap so you were nestled in the circle of his arms. he began with soft kisses pressed against your forehead, your temples, the bridge of your nose. each one was a promise. his hands roamed over your sweater, not demanding, but re-mapping the territory he’d already claimed earlier.
“can I take this off?” he asked against your lips, his fingers toying with the hem of your sweater. “i want to see you... all of you. is that okay? can you that for me?”
you nodded again, wordless. the trust was a physical thing, a lump in your throat.
keigo lifted the soft fabric over your head, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of your bare chest and you instinctively crossed your arms, a lifetime of being told you were nothing special growing up.
“none of that,” he chided softly, gently prying your arms away. “you’re breathtaking. perfect.” He leaned down and took one peaked bud into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it.
you cried out, arching into the shocking, wet heat. the tingles intensified, focusing into a sharp point of desperate need.
he focused his attention on your breasts, kissing, sucking, nipping gently until you were writhing and whining, your fingers tangled in his hair. “kei… please…”
“please what, little bird?” he murmured, switching to the other breast, his hand cupping and kneading the damp flesh he’d just abandoned. “tell me what you need. i’ll give you everything.”
“i don’t… i don’t know,” you sobbed, overwhelmed by the sensations. “ngh... it’s too much…”
“it’s not enough,” he corrected, his voice a low thrum of desire. he kissed his way down your trembling stomach, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your sleep shorts and panties. “not nearly enough. let me show you, dove.”
without asking, he stripped the last of your clothing away, leaving you completely bare and exposed on the bed.
you expected to feel shame. instead, under his worshipful gaze, you felt… precious, cared for, and admired.
keigo shed his own clothes with efficient grace, and then he was there, gloriously naked, kneeling between your spread legs. he was beautiful, all lean muscle, golden skin, beautiful bright red wings behind him, and the sight of his arousal, thick and heavy, made that needy heat between your legs clench with something deeper than confusion.
he didn’t move to enter you, instead, he lowered his head.
his mouth on your core was an earth-shattering feeling. where the feeling you had earlier when he was rocking you on his lap had been friction and confusing pressure, this was heavenly... mothing like you've ever felt before.
his tongue was a wicked, clever thing, licking broad, slow stripes through your folds before zeroing in on the bundle of nerves that was the source of all the aching tension.
you screamed, your hands flying back to grip the sheets. “oh! ngh— wh-what are you— fuck?!”
keigo pulled back, his chin glistening accompanied by the grin on his face. “i'm helping you, baby,” he said simply, his eyes burning into yours. “this is how close friends make each other feel really good. do you want me to stop?”
stop?
the thought was incomprehensible.
“n-no! please don't stop,” you shook your head wildly, your hips lifting off the bed in a silent plea.
he gave you a smile that was both tender and predatory, and dove back in. this time, he was relentless. he licked and sucked at your clit, then speared his tongue inside you, fucking you with it in a shallow, maddening rhythm.
“shit... ngh! keigo. feels s-so good!” you raked your fingers through his messy blonde hair, your hips grinding up his face on its own making you throw your head back in bliss.
he then started using his fingers too. one, then two, curling them upwards inside you, searching until he found a spot that made you see stars.
“kei! yes, right there!”
“i’ve got you,” he groaned against your flesh, the vibration pushing you higher. “come on, little bird, let go for me. cum on my tongue. show me how good i make you feel.”
his words, the filthy, wet sounds, the impossible skill of his mouth—it shattered you.
your second orgasm with him was infinitely more powerful than the first. it ripped through you like a typhoon, a tidal wave of pure, screaming pleasure that left you convulsing, your voice raw from crying out his name.
you were sobbing with the intensity of it when he finally moved up your body, covering you with his own. he was heavy, anchoring you back to earth. he kissed the tears from your cheeks. “so beautiful, so good for me,” he whispered, over and over. “my perfect girl. all mine.”
you were still pulsing with aftershocks when you felt the blunt, hot head of his cock nudge against your soaked entrance.
a flicker of fear, of sheer size, cut through the haze.
he saw it. he always saw everything. “look at me, dovey,” he commanded softly.
you dragged your eyes open to meet his.
“this is the last part... the best part even,” he explained, his voice a hypnotic murmur. “the closest two friends can be. i’ll be inside you. we’ll be one. and i will take care of you forever. you’ll never be alone, never be unloved, never be unwanted again. you want that, right? you just have to trust me. do you trust me, baby?”
“i do trust you, kei.” you said, fiddling with your fingers.
“i know it's hard for you to trust people after what those terrible did to you. i know, baby. but, it's me. i will never hurt you the way they did. i will never leave you like your father. i will never criticize you like your mother did, and i will never make you feel lesser like you sister did.” keigo hummed as kissed all over your face, his praise making you shiver in pleasure as you closed your eyes. “i'll take such good care of my pretty little bird, i always do.”
he words were like honey, woven into promises that spoke directly to the hollow places in your soul—the daddy who left you, the mother who ignored you, and the sister who despised you. the family that made you feel like a ghost in your own home.
keigo offered belonging and wholeness. he was the only one. he was the only one who saved you, the only one who made you laugh and smile, the only one who comforted and reassured you when you were sad, the only one who gave you anything and everything you wanted. he was the only one who took care of you. keigo takami was the only person you trusted.
“yes,” you breathed, the word a vow. “i trust you. only you, keigo. please take me, make me feel good again.”
“such a good girl. i'll give you everything you want,” he praised, kissing you deeply.
as his tongue swept into your mouth, he pressed forward, slowly entering you. there was a sharp sting, a burn of intrusion, and you whimpered into the kiss.
keigo broke it, his forehead resting against yours, his breath coming in ragged puffs. “shhh, i know, i know,” he soothed, not moving, letting your body adjust to the incredible, stretching fullness. “it’s okay, just a little strech. just breathe with me. you’re taking me so well. so perfect for me, biride.”
soon the pain slowly subsided, replaced by that overwhelming sense of fullness, of being claimed. he began to move, slow, shallow thrusts that made you gasp.
“keigo!”
“you feel…” he choked out, his composure cracking for the first time. “god, you feel like heaven. tight and hot and mine. all mine.”
he built the pace with agonizing patience, each stroke going deeper than the last. the initial discomfort melted away, replaced by a building friction that sparked the embers of pleasure back into flame.
you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, wanting more. “oh god, yes!” you cried out, your nails digging into keigo's back. “harder... ngh! please, kei! harder!”
keigo chuckled as he happily obliged, thrusting up into you with force.
“that’s it,” he encouraged, his thrusts getting harder each time. “hold onto me. you’re mine now. every part of you. your smiles are mine. your tears are mine. this perfect, tight pussy is mine. say it for me, dovey.”
“fuck... y-yours!” you cried out, the possession in his words fueling your own need. “all yours, keigo!”
the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mixing with your moans and his grunts. you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer as your tongues tangled together, fighting for dominance as you lost yourself in the pleasure.
“fuck. you feel so fucking good f’me, dove,” keigo's hands roamed your body, squeezing your thighs and leaving bruises in their wake.
you moaned into keigo's mouth, the praise only spurring you on. you threw your head against your pillow, your back arching as you fuck up into him harder.
“fuck, your pussy is so tight,” keigo groaned, his fingers digging into your hips. “i can feel you squeezing me. you gonna cum on my cock again, huh, baby?”
“mhm— f-fuck, yes,” you nodded breathlessly, your body trembling with need.
he groaned, a sound of pure triumph, and captured your lips again. his rhythm became relentless, powerful, the bedframe knocking a steady beat against the wall. the sounds were obscene—skin slapping, your combined moans, his guttural praises.
“you don’t need anyone else anymore,” he panted into your ear, his wings flaring out around you both like a crimson cage. “not your family. not anyone. just me. i’ll spoil you, love you, fuck you… take care of you forever. you’re my little bird. my everything.”
his words intertwined with the sensations, weaving a cage of bliss and dependency around your heart.
you were so close again, the coil winding impossibly tight. “i’m… keigo, i feel… i’m gonna…”
“come for me,” he ordered, his voice raw with his own impending release. “come on my cock and let me feel you. show me you’re mine.”
it was the final permission you needed.
your third orgasm exploded through you, a cataclysm that locked your body around his, milking him violently. with a shout of your name that was both prayer and victory cry, he followed you over, his own release flooding into you, hot and claiming.
keigo collapsed atop you, shuddering, and for a few minutes, the only sounds were your ragged breaths and the distant city hum. slowly, he rolled, taking you with him so you lay on his chest, still intimately joined. his wings were folded around you snugly as his hand traced idle patterns on your back.
you felt… different.
changed.
claimed in a way that went deeper than skin.
keigo kissed the top of your head. “see?” he whispered, his voice saturated with a love that felt terrifying in its intensity. “you're mine now, dovey. always and forever. no one will hurt you anymore now that you're mine. no one will make you cry anymore. no one will take you from me, okay? because i want you to be taken care off and only i can do that. you understand?”
“don't want you to ever leave me, kei. i want only you.” you said as nuzzled into him, the last of your resistance melting away in the afterglow of pleasure and profound belonging.
he was right after all.
you had him and you didn’t need anyone else.
and he would never, ever let you go.
everything was loud in your head.
it had always been loud, but when you look back, you realize it truly began when you were five, when the world around you stopped being just what you could see and became something you could hear without anyone opening their mouths, something that pressed into your skull from all directions until you thought your head might split from the noise.
at first, it was confusing, overwhelming in a way that a child could not name, because the voices did not come with faces, and they did not wait for permission, they simply existed, overlapping and crowding, spilling into you whether you wanted them or not.
she’s useless…
why does she even exist…
if only she wasn’t born…
those were the first ones you recognized, not because you understood what they meant, but because you knew the rhythm of them, the familiarity of your mother’s tone even when her lips were not moving, the sharpness of your sister’s voice even when she was not in the room.
you remember standing in the hallway, small hands gripping the edge of the wall as your ears rang, your eyes darting around as if you could find where it was coming from, as if there was someone whispering behind you, in front of you, somewhere you could point to and say stop.
but there was no one.
only your mother in the kitchen, humming softly.
only your sister in the living room, flipping through a book.
and yet—
she’s so pathetic.
quirkless… how embarrassing.
you did not understand it then, not fully, but you understood enough to know that it was not supposed to happen, that voices were not supposed to exist without sound, that thoughts were not supposed to reach you like that, pressing against you from inside your own head.
that night, you buried yourself under your blanket, your hands pressed tightly over your ears as if that would help, as if blocking out the world physically would silence what was already inside you, your small body trembling as you squeezed your eyes shut.
it did not stop.
it never stopped.
the voices slipped through everything, through walls, through distance, through the thin barrier of your own understanding.
did he burn the rice again?
that girl looks familiar…
we should move soon. maybe somewhere tropical!
neighbors, strangers, passing thoughts that had nothing to do with you, all of them spilling in, all of them layering over each other until it became a constant hum that you could not escape.
so you learned.
you learned slowly, quietly, because you had no choice, because no one was going to explain it to you, because you understood very early that telling anyone would only make things worse.
you learned how to push it back, how to let it fade into the background, how to focus on one voice at a time or none at all, how to exist with it instead of against it.
you learned control.
and as you grew older, the noise became manageable, not gone, never gone, but something you could live with, something you could pretend was normal.
by the time you moved out of that house, by the time you finally stepped into a space that belonged to you, the first thing that crossed your mind was finding someone who could tell you what you were, what this was, whether it had a name.
a quirk doctor.
the thought lingered for days, sitting quietly at the back of your mind as you went through the motions of your new life, as you arranged your small apartment, as you adjusted to the silence that came with distance from your mother and your sister.
but you never went.
because the moment you imagined sitting in front of someone, explaining what you could do, you also imagined the way people would look at you, the way they would question you, the way your life would no longer be yours…. especially if your mother found out.
people were better off believing you were quirkless.
it was easier that way.
safer.
so you kept quiet, you always did.
and then that night happened.
the night your mother called you back, the night you saw your father for the first time, the night everything shifted in a way you could not ignore.
it was dark and cold out. the kind of cold that settles into your skin and stays there, that makes your breath visible in the air as you walk, that makes the world feel quieter than it actually is.
the sky stretched above you, wide and empty, painted in deep shades that felt endless, like something you could get lost in if you stared too long.
and for a moment, you did.
because that was when you heard it.
pretty… what a precious little birdie…
your head snapped up before you could stop yourself, your eyes searching the sky as if you could find the source, as if there was something there, someone there, watching.
but there was nothing. only the vast dark above you.
the feeling lingered though, a pull you could not explain, something that brushed against your awareness before slipping away just as quickly, leaving you standing there for a second longer than necessary before you forced yourself to keep walking.
you did not think much of it then.
not until later. not until the alley. not until him. not until keigo.
because when he saved you, when those crimson feathers pinned those men against the wall, when you turned and saw him standing there with those wings spread behind him, you already knew who he was.
your sister had made sure of that. you had heard enough of her thoughts, enough of her endless admiration, enough of her obsession to recognize him instantly.
and you could not blame her.
because standing there, face to face with him, you understood.
he looked unreal, like something carefully crafted, every detail placed with intention, from the sharp line of his gaze to the effortless curve of his smile, from the way his wings moved behind him to the way he looked at you as if you were the only thing in front of him.
and then there were his thoughts.
she’s even prettier up close…
soft… easy… mine, if i play this right…
heat rushed to your face before you could stop it, your heart stuttering in your chest as you stared at him, because his words were gentle, his tone light and teasing, but what you heard underneath it all was something else entirely.
something deeper and something darker.
and as you got closer to him, as he became a part of your life, as keigo slipped into your days and your nights so easily that it felt natural, you started to understand just how different those two sides of him were.
because what he said and what he thought never quite matched.
“you’re safe with me, little bird,” he would murmur, his voice soft, reassuring, his smile warm as he brushed a strand of hair away from your face.
no one gets close to you unless i allow it…
“you don’t have to worry about anything when i’m around,” he would add, his wings shifting slightly as if to shield you.
i’ll make sure of that. i’ll make sure you never leave me…
when someone stood too close to you, when a stranger’s attention lingered for even a second too long, his thoughts sharpened in a way his expression never did.
look at him… disgusting…
one move and i’ll break his arm.
she’s mine.
it was not the kind of thoughts a hero should have. it was not the kind of thoughts someone like him should even entertain. and yet, they were there, constant and clear, slipping into your mind every time he looked at you, every time he touched you, every time he smiled.
you understood him in a way no one else did.
you saw the cracks beneath the surface, the control he craved, the way he viewed the world in terms of what he could hold and what he could keep, the way he looked at you as something delicate, something worth protecting, something worth possessing.
and you did not fight it, you did not pull away. instead, you leaned into it. because playing the part came naturally to you.
being soft, being quiet, being someone who needed him, someone who depended on him, someone who looked at him with wide eyes and trust that never wavered.
it was easy.
it was what you had been doing your entire life and this time, it gave you something in return.
you liked the way keigo took care of you. you liked the way he watched over you. you liked the way his attention never left you, the way his presence filled every empty space you had grown used to.
it filled something inside you, something that had been empty for so long that you had stopped noticing it.
a quiet hunger.
a need to be chosen, to be wanted, to be kept. and keigo gave you that. completely.
she listens so well, such a good girl for me.
perfect.
you wanted him to succeed. you wanted him to rise to the top and spoil you even more.
you let him believe it was his doing. that he was the one guiding things, shaping things, pulling you closer without resistance.
so when you spoke about your family, when you mentioned things in passing, when you let certain details slip in a way that sounded careless, harmless, almost meaningless, you knew exactly what you were doing.
“i think the only reason my family ask me to come over every other week is so that they can brag about how happy they are together,” you had said one evening, your voice soft as you traced the rim of your cup, your gaze unfocused as if you were not paying much attention. “last week my mom wont stop bragging about busy my sister sister is. she talks about her work a lot… something about a group she agrees with… liberation front or whatever. she says they’re misunderstood and that people should sympathize with them more.”
keigo had stilled for a fraction of a second.
yet you heard it.
paranormal liberation front…?
you tilted your head slightly, as if trying to recall the time you read your sisters mind. “i don’t really understand it,” you added with a small, uncertain smile. “but she gets so passionate about it… my parents too, sometimes. they sound the same when they talk about it. they always leave me out of it though, said i was ‘too stupid to understand.’”
you did not need to say more. you did not need to spell it out.
keigo understood. of course he did.
it was not a coincidence.
none of it was.
and when the raid happened, when your family was taken, when everything collapsed around them in a way that seemed sudden to everyone else, you knew.
you had always known because you had heard it first.
we need to be careful.
the commission and those heroes are watching!
it will be worth it…
it had never been a secret to you, just something you chose to keep.
and later after the war, standing in that visiting room, the cold barrier of glass separating you from them, keigo’s arm wrapped securely around your waist, you listened again.
look at her… dressed like that.
fucking disgusting…
she thinks she’s better than us now!
your mother’s thoughts dripped with disdain, your father’s with anger, your sister’s with something sharper, something that twisted when her gaze landed on the ring on your finger.
that should be me! why her?!
you lowered your head slightly, your shoulders trembling as you let out a soft, broken sound, your voice shaking as you spoke.
“why would you do that?” you asked, your words fragile, cracking at the edges as tears filled your eyes. “why would you join a group that would hurt innocent people?”
your mother’s lips curled as she leaned forward. “don’t act like you care, brat!” she snapped, her voice cold. “you’ve always been fake.”
your sister scoffed, her eyes narrowing. “of course she is,” she added bitterly. “she’s always been pathetic… look at her now, acting like she’s some kind of saint. stop with the fucking act!”
you flinched, your breath hitching as you shook your head, your fingers curling tightly into the fabric of your dress. “i just… i didn’t think you would go this far,” you whispered, your voice small. “you’ve always been hard on me, and i thought maybe i deserved that, but this… i can’t understand this…”
keigo’s hand moved against your back, slow and steady, his touch grounding, his presence solid behind you.
they don’t deserve to even look at you. say the word and i’ll make them regret it, little birdie.
mine.
it sent a quiet thrill through you, something warm and sharp settling deep in your chest as you took a shaky breath.
“maybe this is my reward,” you murmured softly, your voice trembling as you lifted your gaze, tears clinging to your lashes. “for everything, for all the cruelty i’ve endured… maybe this is why things turned out like this… because now i have everything i could ever want.”
your fingers brushed against the ring unconsciously. “keigo got us a house after he became president of the hpsc,” you continued, your tone almost dazed, like you could not quite believe it yourself. “it’s beautiful… and we’re getting married soon.”
your sister’s face twisted. “you! y-you don’t deserve that! none of it!” she spat, her voice sharp with fury. “you don’t deserve him, you don’t deserve anything you have! nothing! you’re nothing but a worthless piece of shit! scum!”
you pressed your lips together, your shoulders shaking as you turned slightly, burying your face against keigo’s chest.
keigo moved instantly. his arm tightened around you, pulling you closer, his presence shifting in a way that was no longer soft, no longer gentle.
it was sharp and dangerous.
“that’s enough,” he said, his voice low, firm, carrying a weight that silenced the room for a moment. his gaze locked onto them, cold and unyielding. “you should be thanking her,” he continued, his tone even, but there was something underneath it, something that pressed down like a warning. “because of her, you’re here and not somewhere much worse.”
his fingers pressed lightly against your side, a silent reassurance that contrasted sharply with the look in his eyes.
“you were supposed to be in tartarus,” he added calmly. “consider this a kindness.”
the air shifted.
your family fell quiet, their anger simmering beneath the surface, their eyes burning with resentment, but they said nothing more.
and you stayed there, tucked against keigo, your tears soft and quiet, your expression hidden from view. because they could not hear what you heard.
no one touches what’s mine. no one hurts what’s mine. no one can take her from me.
and deep down, where no one could see, where no one could hear, you smiled.
after a beat of silence, keigo decided he has had enough. his hand never left you as he finally guided you away from the glass, his touch firm against your back as if he was already pulling you out of their reach long before you fully turned your body away from them, his presence surrounding you in a way that felt entirely his.
you let him lead.
of course you did.
your steps were slow at first, almost reluctant, as if the weight of the moment was still clinging to you, as if your body had not yet caught up to the fact that it was over, that the conversation had ended, that there was nothing more to say to the people behind that glass.
their voices still rang faintly in your ears, not the words they spoke out loud, but the ones that never left their minds.
that bitch faking it! i raised her for years. she’s faking it!
look at her crying. pathetic child.
why does she get everything?
your grip on keigo’s sleeve tightened just slightly, subtle enough that anyone watching would assume it was nothing more than lingering emotion, nothing more than a fragile girl seeking comfort from the man beside her.
he noticed and his arm shifted, pulling you closer into his side, his thumb brushing lightly against your arm in a slow, soothing motion that looked gentle to anyone else.
don’t listen to them. they don’t matter. only i matter. you’re mine, dove.
you leaned into him just enough to make it convincing, your head dipping slightly as if you were trying to hide your face, as if you were still holding yourself together.
the guard by the door opened it for you, the heavy sound of it echoing softly in the quiet hallway outside, and keigo guided you through without hesitation, his presence commanding even in silence.
but just before you fully crossed the threshold, just before the door could close behind you and seal them away again, you stopped.
a fraction of a second where your body resisted just enough.
keigo’s hand stilled on your back. “you okay, my heart?” he asked quietly, his voice softer now, meant only for you.
you nodded faintly, your fingers loosening slightly against his sleeve. “i just…” your voice trembled, soft and fragile, just enough to sound real, just enough to make him lean closer. “i want to look at them one more time.”
he hesitated for a second. you felt it in the way his hand tightened ever so slightly.
they don’t deserve it. they don’t deserve you looking at them like that…
but then—
“alright,” he said, his tone gentler now, indulgent in a way that always came so easily when it came to you. “just for a second, baby.”
you turned, your gaze lifted, settling on them through the glass once more, taking them in as they stood there, your mother stiff with barely contained resentment, your father’s jaw tight with anger, your sister’s eyes burning with something ugly and sharp.
you could hear them again.
she thinks she won.
disgusting.
he’ll leave her too… just like her father once did.
your eyes moved over each of them, lingering just long enough to take it all in, to let the noise settle and then quiet again, to let their thoughts pass through you without sticking.
your face still held that soft, shaken look, your eyes still slightly glassy, your lips parted just enough to seem like you were holding back words you would never say.
you turned back to keigo after that, your hand slipping into his as if you needed the contact, as if you needed the reassurance, and he responded instantly, his fingers curling around yours, firm and warm.
“let’s go,” he murmured, his voice low, guiding you forward again without another glance back.
you followed.
of course you did.
the door closed behind you with a final, heavy sound, sealing them away from you completely this time, cutting off their voices, their thoughts, their presence.
and as you walked down the hallway with keigo at your side, his thumb brushing lightly against your knuckles, his wings shifting slightly behind him, you let your head rest gently against his shoulder.
your eyes softened as your lips curved, just barely. small enough that no one would notice and soft enough that it could be mistaken for relief.
