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@sericasong
Pinned・✦
Introduction・✦
Hello there, you can call me Sano (he/they). This is a blog focused on Keigo/Hawks from MHA along with my experiences as an OC fictive, including art and writing regarding both.
I am part of a system, my age as an alter and our age bodily being 21.
Minors dni, due to the fact that I post/reblog smut. I block minors who follow / interact with this blog.
^ Please have your age in your bio or pinned.
Also, I have a Strawpage now!
Just as sort of a PSA? Guys, if you follow me / interact with my content and your blog is partially or entirely blank, I'm probably going to assume you're either a bot or a scammer and block you by default.
Also, for god's sake, please don't interact with my stuff if you're a minor. I can't physically prevent you from reading it, but I will automatically block if I see a blog that mentions being underaged. Sexuality is a normal human experience and (not mutually exclusive) I don't want to know that kids are reading the smut I write.
Honestly? Fluffy spontaneous sex with Keigo.
Because there's days when it doesn't need to be rough or planned ahead or, really, anything in particular. Not that either of you feel like you do "need" to be a certain way or do a specific thing by now when it comes to having sex– he's good at that, keeping the pressure off while he keeps you turned on– but there's days when Keigo just catches a whim to give you something light, something silly.
So he scatters kisses across your face, along your jaw, down your throat where he adds in little nips at you. Marking you gently, chatting idly, so sweet and simple that it feels casual.
He noses against your stomach; kisses over it, too. Blows a raspberry with golden eyes sparkling at the resulting laugh startled out of your mouth. Sighs happily how "my baby's so pretty, so fuckin' cute, love you so so much, sweetheart, my whole world..."
Your thighs get the same treatment as your neck, peppered in careful bites and kisses, before he pauses to squish his cheeks between them and glance up at you.
"I mean that, y'know," he murmurs, thumbs tracing over your hips with the sort of care that a conservator gives to a fragile painting decades old. "I really, really do. You're everything to me, babe. My whole entire world 'n so much more, I'm so fuckin' lucky to have you."
Keigo seems pleased that he can still make you blush, that he still holds the skill to get you flustered with his earnest expression.
He likes making you feel giddy.
Once he's pulled an orgasm from you slow and saccharine with his mouth, his hands, he mumbles "yes chef thank you chef" and grins proudly when you snicker, "shut up!" and smack him with a pillow.
Instead of tossing the soft ammunition aside, he tucks it underneath your waist, ever resourceful as he trails his lips back up your body until they reach your own.
"Y'okay to go on? Lemme spoil you?"
New short but sweet drabble incoming at 11 because I've been unsure how to expand on it for a while (read: like over a year) and figured that actually no, posted is best ✌️. Maybe we'll get to 2025 kinktober. I'll decide in 5–30 business days.
Hawks hunched over your back, hips grinding against your ass while he squishes your cheeks pursed with one hand. And with his breath so close to your ear, you can hear him panting in arousal as he mounts you, thrusting again and again and again, until your brain liquifies.
It’s with a smile you can audibly perceive when he whispers, “now say thank you, daddy.”
After all the dead years, it takes you to bring back Keigo’s name.
Keigo Takami, and your hummingbird boy tastes the sugar with a burn on his tongue. You curl Keigo’s name like a cherry stem in your mouth and his belly twists with unfamiliar butterflies. They flutter and burst in kaleidoscope colors like the stars in his eyes when you catch them. Can he bring himself to answer you? He thinks it might stop his heart.
Keigo Takami, and his heart feels fletchling young. You whisper his name and an ache glows in his chest, beckoning him to bury himself in your navel, a sanctuary promised to an infantile heart. Eyes shut and lips purr. Arms are tightly woven around your body, his safety blanket, his bed, his home. Sleep, now.
Keigo Takami, and his shoulders fall lax. Lazy, gooey love untangles the knots in his musculature, oils the ache in his joints, oxygenates the air in his lungs. He melts into the sound of your voice, dying little deaths of pleasure with each syllable, popped like resuscitating electric sparks, and suddenly the stiffness in his body slips away to yesterday.
Your voice, his heart tied red to one other, the one claim to his name.
Team-Up Missions
Mission 2: The Quickest Undercover Hero
Festive・✦ drabble
adjective - joyous; merry.・✦
Our cheeks are nice and rosy and comfy and cozy are we We're snuggled up together like two birds of a feather would be!
Whenever I re-watch the 3rd MHA movie, I like to think that Hawks is fast, but like, inhumanely fast. So fast that he can dodge literal gunfire and take down the enemies with ease. BECAUSE HE FUCKING DOES! He moves so fast that he is unharmed as he fights on the ground and still keeps going. Without his wings btw, because his feathers are busy searching, so ye. Hawks is fast, but like, inhumanely fast that it's scary.
#2 for a reason babehhh
Call it a stealth mission the way Hawks infiltrates your relationship and steals you away from whoever doesn’t treat you right.
Keigo holds a petty streak, too. He’d rub your boyfriend’s nose in it a little. Get all touchy feely, his hands on your shoulders, your sides, your neck. There’s a little bit of puppy love in the way Keigo touches you around your boyfriend, like he’s seeking your approval without any regard to whose eyes are watching.
In fact, part of him thrills at the thought.
Maybe your little “boyfriend” might learn a thing or two about how to keep a partner happy if he sees Keigo doting on you like this. He’s not afraid of honest-to-god cuddling you right in front of the bastard to get the point across, nuzzling into you and relishing in your fingers against his fluffy, puppy-blonde locks— not if it results in you giggling against him and squeaking out that cute little nickname.
“Kei’, that tickles! Kei’, not in front of him—!”
How fuckin’ sweet can you get?
word count - 1.5k notes - keigo convinces you he'll do the laundry and perversion ensues. afab! reader, ambiguous universe, no reference to canon but not explicitly an AU warnings - established relationship. pervy behavior, panty-sniffing, smut, oral (f!), pet names, crack/humor
“Chickadee, why are you so weird about it?”
“It’s fine, Keigo, I like doing it.”
Keigo huffs, half playful, half frustrated. “And I won’t? C’mon, let me take care of the laundry.”
You dodge his hands, clutching tighter to the hamper, stacked high with dirty clothes, his and yours.
You’ve played it off for a while. Since you moved in together, you’ve handled the laundry despite Keigo’s attempts at doing it.
Well, as expected I am Struggling with kinked tober. Will do my best to get to each day and just post each one after I finish it lmao.
There's two types of masturbation for Keigo.
First is the thoughtless: often pressed for time, a quick thing to relieve some stress and release some energy. Efficient as ever, almost clinical in the way he rubs one out, takes a shower, and heads straight to bed for work in the morning. He doesn't even bother making an ordeal of it when he does have time, until...
Well, until he has a new muse.
Once you're in the picture, it's a different story, and that's where the second type comes in: the kind where he thinks.
He imagines an impish grin as he sidles his waistband down.
Eyes creased with teasing while his fingers wrap around his length.
A pretty mouth, a prettier voice, and his own lips part with a hot breath that comes out heavy.
Keigo thinks of you when his hand eases up and down in strokes that start slow and get faster.
He thinks of you when his hips roll into the heat of his fist almost warm enough to really be you he's fucking.
And he thinks of you when he spills thick over the rim of those digits, groan dragged low from his throat.
Thinking is something Keigo does more of these days.
So he wonders if you think of him too.
There's two types of masturbation for Keigo.
First is the thoughtless: often pressed for time, a quick thing to relieve some stress and release some energy. Efficient as ever, almost clinical in the way he rubs one out, takes a shower, and heads straight to bed for work in the morning. He doesn't even bother making an ordeal of it when he does have time, until...
Well, until he has a new muse.
Once you're in the picture, it's a different story, and that's where the second type comes in: the kind where he thinks.
He imagines an impish grin as he sidles his waistband down.
Eyes creased with teasing while his fingers wrap around his length.
A pretty mouth, a prettier voice, and his own lips part with a hot breath that comes out heavy.
Keigo thinks of you when his hand eases up and down in strokes that start slow and get faster.
He thinks of you when his hips roll into the heat of his fist almost warm enough to really be you he's fucking.
And he thinks of you when he spills thick over the rim of those digits, groan dragged low from his throat.
Thinking is something Keigo does more of these days.
So he wonders if you think of him too.
There is something so fun and delicious about orgasm denial and false choices.
I think Hawks would play the cutest mind games with you, presenting a false dichotomy to pluck at your cotton-string heart.
“Hey baby, I’ll let you decide. Y’wanna cum tonight, or would you rather I got to?”
The trap is set with the sweetest puppydog eyes. Oh, Keigo knows that question has gotta hurt.
Cumming… You do like to do it, yes, especially when it’s Keigo touching you, but… You love when Keigo gets to. You love watching him be happy, even if it means you won’t get anything but heat bubbling in your lower belly at the sight of him stroking his cock to completion in front of you. You love to watch him soak in what you are rightfully denied, to lose himself in self pleasure as his eyes go lidded, his breath gets heavy, and his cock gets wet while he touches himself without shame.
One hand rubbing his chest, one fist milking his own dick. Both your hands bound.
Keigo knows you’re just a good pet like that. You’ll peep out a sheepish, “you, daddy,” and don a wobbly smile when Keigo beams at you for it— a little reward for your troubles.
“Aww, thank you, puppy,” and a peck on the lips, and your tail is already wagging.
You did good! Keigo gets to feel good! You get to watch him cum!
So innocent. So fucking dumb, Keigo thinks as he starts to undress, that you don’t realize it’s your miserable display that he’ll be touching himself to tonight.
keigo looks gorgeous when he fucks you right: your thighs hooked over his shoulders, his pelvis pressed all the way up against your ass as he bottoms out with each thrust, hips moving in torturously slow figure-eights.
his golden skin glistens with sweat and his bushy brows draw together in concentration, because god help him, he’s trying not to immediately melt into the heat of your hole and rut against you like a dog, but it’s a losing game—especially when you moan like that, and buck your hips back against his.
when he leans forward to kiss you, his tufty bangs fall over his eyes, and when he pulls back, his mouth stays open as he pants, braced up on his hands, grinding into your sweet spot with the tip of his cock, a hair’s breadth away from cumming but making a valiant effort to hold on for your sake. “mm, baby—shit—feel so good like this...you too, yeah? feels good?” and when your only response is a strangled whimper, he laughs breathlessly and kisses your neck, grabbing your hips to pull you back into his next thrust.
just like that, your whole body goes taut with liquid heat, shuddering involuntarily as your climax courses through you, soaking the sheets and keigo’s cock and making your hole spasm around him. he makes a raw noise, just on the edge of a mewl, and in another quick, shallow cant of his hips he’s cumming too, muffling his noises against your shoulder as his hot, sticky load fills you.
afterwards, before bothering to clean up, he holds you, not saying anything—just stroking the crown of your head, topaz eyes almost catlike when they’re half-lidded in satisfaction like this.
inevitably, your warm, soft body against his will tempt him into a doze, before a thoughtless shift of your weight presses you back against his soft cock, and he comes alive again, as he always does for you. you’re his perfect drug, the kind that doesn’t hurt to chase and to fall into, over and over again—until every inch of his skin sings with how much he adores every inch of yours.
Florist!Keigo is regarded by other shopkeepers as bright, friendly, and generally one of those people who hold the community together.
Florist!Keigo has a little hole in the wall nestled between the bookstore and the coffee shop, so both his neighbor businesses are oft found blooming and bright anytime he has stock to spare.
Florist!Keigo needs to wear a mask in his own store in springtime; poor dear has pollen allergies that don't stop for anyone, career be damned.
Florist!Keigo will happily talk until sunset about the meanings of flowers and their colors. "You can say so many things with them, isn't that cool?"
Florist!Keigo likes sneaking flowers to kids when he spies them staring at a tulip or a lily. He carefully shaves any thorns from the sides, testing his work himself before presenting his little customers with their pretty prize for visiting.
Florist!Keigo adores when regulars bring him wildflowers, be it a young or old hand that hands them over. He presses them so he can keep them forever because they're important!
Florist!Keigo feels a hint of wistfulness and a whole lot of awe when you come in to order an arrangement. He tries not to sound too prying as he chatters at you, "Aw, is this for a partner? They better be appreciating someone sweet enough to do that for them!"
Florist!Keigo manages to swallow the satisfaction at the answer– it's for a different occasion? You're single? He can barely believe it, but he's not about to complain.
Florist!Keigo courts you the way a bird does. You find extra stems in the bouquets you buy, his eye even more discerning than usual as he chooses the pieces. He directs you to the coffee shop, sending flowers for them along with you to let you claim the discount they usually give Keigo for them. Your preferred flowers grow increasingly (suspiciously) constant in availability.
Florist!Keigo doesn't even realize that in the process of small talk, you've noted his favorite flowers by how he talks about them and the way he taps them affectionately in passing through his shop.
Florist!Keigo tilts his head when you hand a particular bouquet back to him. Is something wrong? Did he forget to trim a stray leaf? His worries are assuaged by your simple request; no, you'd just like verification on what all the parts of it mean.
"Sure, yeah! You were really specific about this one, I get wanting to have it all correct. A lot of these are associated with romance– most of them, actually, are you asking someone out?"
(Florist!Keigo fights a petty little part of him that hopes your target has allergies. Mean, he scolds himself.)
"You've got daisies, which represent innocence in general but can also signify romance if they're pink like this... then there's red carnations– carnations are actually one of the oldest cultivated flowers in the world, did you know that? They represent love, devotion and even fascination. And primroses are similar, but I think their meaning is honestly even cuter– it's young love, charm, and longing! They're good for confessing to someone, in my opinion."
Florist!Keigo blinks as you nod with a grin and inform him that this particular bouquet is for him.
"But– wait, the– even though you know what they mean?"
Florist!Keigo turns red as the pretty little primroses in his fragrant, paperbound gift. He tugs one from the bunch, shyly, and holds it out to you.
"I'm off in five, so, uh, d'you wanna maybe... get coffee next door?"
