You and Keigo are engaged and he is keeping his secret life from the commission and planning on find you guys a safe place away from everyone all while doing that he wants to take his time with you (but you can't wait) so you decide to make his day.... ;)
TW: SMUT
(NOT MY IMAGE (obviously, found on Pinterest))
The first rays of dawn filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
Keigo stirred slowly, consciousness returning in gentle stages. The first thing he registered was warmth—your body pressed against his, fitting perfectly into the curve of his embrace. His wings had wrapped even tighter around you both during the night, cocooning you completely.
For a long moment, he didn't move. He just lay there, golden eyes half-lidded, watching you sleep with an expression of wonder.
She's real. This is real.
His hand, which had somehow found its way under your shirt during the night to rest against your bare skin, flexed gently. He should probably move it—but he couldn't bring himself to break contact.
"Morning, pretty girl," he murmured softly, not wanting to startle you awake but unable to stay silent. His voice was rough with sleep, lower than usual.
He pressed a feather-light kiss to your temple, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth—gentle wake-up kisses.
"I need to get ready for patrol soon," he whispered reluctantly, even as his arms tightened around you. "But I don't want to move. You're too comfortable."
His wings rustled, a few feathers drifting down around you both.
"Best sleep I've had in years," he admitted quietly. "Turns out having someone to hold makes all the difference." He nuzzled into your hair. "You didn't have any nightmares, did you? Sleep okay?"
Despite his words about needing to leave, he made no actual move to get up—clearly torn between duty and the overwhelming desire to stay exactly where he was.
"Five more minutes," he bargained with himself out loud. "Just five more minutes of this before I have to be Hawks again."
His hand traced lazy patterns on your skin where it rested against your waist.
"And then I'm going to spend all day on patrol thinking about you. Waiting for those naughty photos you promised." The last part was said with a hint of his usual playfulness returning. "You're going to be so much trouble, aren't you?"
But he was smiling—soft and genuine and completely content in this quiet morning moment.
You place her hand over keigos which is under her shirt, she doesn’t move it but moves her thumb giving it a gentle rub. “ good morning.”.
Keigo's breath hitched at the feeling of your hand covering his, keeping it right where it was against your bare skin. That simple gesture—acceptance, permission, trust—sent warmth flooding through his chest.
"Good morning," he repeated, voice even rougher now. His thumb began mirroring yours, rubbing gentle circles against your waist.
He shifted slightly, propping himself up on his elbow so he could look down at you properly. Sleep-mussed hair, soft features, those eyes blinking awake—you were devastating.
"You're beautiful in the morning," he murmured, completely sincere. "All soft and warm and..." His hand flexed against your skin. "Mine."
He leaned down to kiss you properly—slow and deep and sweet. Morning breath didn't seem to matter when everything felt this right.
When he pulled back, there was reluctance written all over his face.
"I really do need to get ready," he said, though his hand still hadn't moved from under your shirt. "Patrol starts in an hour, and I need to shower, get my gear..." He trailed off, golden eyes darkening slightly. "You could join me. In the shower. Just to... save time."
He caught himself immediately.
"No—ignore that. Bad idea. Terrible idea." He groaned, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. "See what you do to me? I wake up with you in my arms and suddenly all my good intentions fly out the window."
His wings rustled in agitation—or maybe frustration.
"Nine days left," he reminded himself, voice muffled against your skin. "Nine more days and then I can have you however I want. In the shower, in bed, against every wall in our safe house..."
He lifted his head, expression torn between desire and determination.
"Help me be strong, pretty girl. Tell me to get up and get ready for work like a responsible hero." But even as he said it, his hand traced up your side slightly, thumb brushing just under the curve of your breast before stopping.
"Because right now, all I want to do is stay in this bed with you and forget the world exists."
His smile was crooked and helpless.
"You're dangerous first thing in the morning, you know that?"
you roll over and lays on keigo, a leg on each side of him with their tummies pressed together. “ not yet.” You kiss keigo gently biting his bottom lip and kissing him again.
Keigo's entire body went rigid beneath you, a strangled sound escaping his throat as you positioned yourself on top of him.
"Baby bird" he calls out as barely more than a groan.
The feeling of your body pressed against his, your legs straddling his hips, the gentle bite to his lip—it all combined into sensory overload. His hands flew to your waist instinctively, gripping perhaps too tightly.
"Pretty girl, you're—" He tried to speak between kisses, but you kept stealing his words. "This is—we said we wouldn't—"
But his body was betraying every protest. His hips shifted slightly beneath you, and there was no hiding his very obvious physical reaction to having you on top of him like this. His wings spread wide across the bed, feathers trembling with barely restrained tension.
"You're not playing fair," he managed, voice strained and rough. His golden eyes were dark with want, pupils blown wide. "I'm trying to be good. Trying to wait. And you're—"
He kissed you back harder, one hand sliding up to tangle in your hair while the other gripped your hip. For several heated moments, he completely gave in—matching your intensity, deepening the kiss until you were both breathless.
Then, with what appeared to be monumental effort, he broke away.
"Stop," he panted, though his hands hadn't released you. "Stop, stop, we have to stop."
His chest was heaving beneath you, and you could feel his heart racing.
"If you keep kissing me like that, if you keep sitting on me like this..." He swallowed hard, eyes squeezing shut. "I'm going to snap. I'm going to forget every promise I made about waiting and doing this right, and I'm going to flip you over and—"
He cut himself off with a groan.
"Please." The word was desperate, almost pained. "Please get off me before I lose control completely. Before I do something we both agreed to wait for."
His hands were shaking where they held you.
"You're killing me. Absolutely killing me." Despite his words, he stole one more quick kiss—like he couldn't help himself. "Nine days. Just nine more days and then you can torture me like this all you want. But right now, I need you to move before I forget how to be a gentleman."
His wings had curled up protectively around you both again, even as he was trying to maintain control.
"Come on, my love," he whispered, voice raw. "Help me be strong. Because you feel too good and I want you too badly, and if you don't move right now, I'm going to break every rule I set for us."
“then I’ll take you up on the offer and join you in the shower.” You say playfully.
Keigo's eyes widened, and for a moment he looked genuinely panicked.
"That's—no, that's the opposite of helping me be strong!" His voice cracked slightly, caught between arousal and desperation. "Do you have any idea what seeing you naked and wet is going to do to me?"
His hands were still on your hips, and despite his protests, he hadn't pushed you off yet.
"My Dove. Pretty girl. *My love.*" Each word was deliberate, like he was trying to ground himself. "If you get in that shower with me, there is a zero percent chance nothing happens. Zero. None."
He finally managed to gently shift you off him, immediately rolling away and sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. His wings were drawn tight against his back, trembling with tension.
"I can feel myself losing this fight," he admitted roughly. "Every word out of your mouth, every touch, every time you look at me like that..." He turned to look at you over his shoulder, expression tortured. "You're making it impossible to wait."
He stood abruptly, putting distance between you.
"Okay. New plan." His voice was strained but attempting control. "You stay in here. I'm going to take a very cold shower. Alone. And then I'm going to leave for patrol before I completely lose my mind."
But he hesitated at the bathroom door, looking back at you with such raw longing it was almost painful.
"When I get back tonight..." He swallowed hard. "When I get back, we're going apartment hunting. Finding our safe house. Because I can't do eight more nights of this. I won't survive eight more nights of waking up with you and having to leave."
His smile was crooked and helpless.
"You win, okay? You've completely destroyed my self-control. I'm hanging on by a thread here." He gripped the doorframe. "So please, just let me shower and leave before that thread snaps entirely."
His wings rustled anxiously.
"And maybe hold off on those naughty photos today? Because I'm already going to be completely useless on patrol just thinking about you in my bed."
Despite everything, there was affection in his eyes—like he was both tortured and delighted by your effect on him.
"Nine days," he repeated, but it sounded more like a prayer now than a timeline.
“okay fine.”
You give keigo and goodbye kiss and he’s off to the shower and eventually leaves for work. 5 hours later you send him a picture of your tits, before he checks the message you send him a video of you fucking yourself on your fingers, messy puffy pussy dripping all over your hand.
Five hours into patrol, Hawks was mid-flight between buildings when his phone buzzed against his thigh.
He landed on a rooftop to check it—standard procedure for hero communications—not expecting what he found.
The first image loaded and he actually stumbled backward, nearly losing his balance.
"Holy—" The words died in his throat as his eyes locked onto the photo of your bare breasts. Perfect. Fucking perfect.
His wings flared wide involuntarily, feathers bristling. Heat shot straight through him, his body responding immediately despite being in full hero gear in the middle of the day.
Then the second notification. A video.
Keigo's hands were shaking as he pressed play, and the sound that escaped him when he saw what you were doing was barely human—somewhere between a groan and a whimper.
"Fuck," he breathed, unable to look away. The sight of your fingers working yourself, your pussy glistening and dripping, the sounds you were making—it was destroying him. "Fuck, fuck, *fuck*."
He watched it twice. Three times. His breathing had gone ragged, and there was absolutely no hiding his physical reaction now. Thank god he was alone on this rooftop.
His fingers fumbled as he typed back, barely coherent:
*You're in so much trouble*
Then immediately after:
*I'm rock hard in the middle of patrol you absolute menace*
*Can't even fly right now because everyone will see*
A pause, then:
*You look so fucking good*
*The things I want to do to you*
*Nine days is too long*
Another longer pause as he tried to regain composure and failed utterly:
*I'm coming home early*
*Fuck patrol. Fuck responsibility*
*I need you RIGHT NOW*
But even as he sent it, reality crashed back in. He had a job. People depending on him. He couldn't just abandon patrol because his girlfriend sent him explicit content.
A follow-up message, this one more strained:
*No. Ignore that. I can't*
*Oh Dove, I SWEAR when I get home tonight*
*You're not going to be able to walk tomorrow*
His hand dragged through his hair, completely destroying the careful styling.
*I'm going to be thinking about that video for the rest of my entire life*
He had to physically shake himself, trying to will his body back under control.
*Save that energy for tonight*
*Because we're finding an apartment TODAY*
*I'm not waiting nine more days*
*Can't wait nine more days*
*Not after seeing that*
His wings were still trembling, body wound tight with need and frustration.
*You're so beautiful when you touch yourself*
*But next time I want to be the one making you that wet*
*Want to be the one making you moan like that*
He groaned again, adjusting himself uncomfortably in his hero costume.
*How am I supposed to focus on saving people when all I can think about is being inside you?*
*You're evil. Absolutely evil.*
*And I love you so fucking much it's actually painful right now*
instead of replying with words you send him another video full body and expressions. fucking your fingers more until you’re a moaning mess, “m-mmm, fuck keigo, f-feels so good”, you say as you’re cumming and squirting all over your fingers.
The notification lit up his phone and Keigo actually had to grip the edge of the building to steady himself.
His finger hesitated over the play button for only a second before his control shattered completely. He pressed play.
"Oh my god," he choked out, the words barely audible.
Watching you fall apart, hearing his name fall from your lips as you came, seeing you squirt—it broke something fundamental in him. His wings spread so wide they scraped against the rooftop access door behind him. Several feathers actually detached and scattered in his agitation.
The video played once. Twice. He couldn't stop watching.
His hand was shaking so badly he could barely type:
*That's it. I'm done.*
*Calling in sick. Emergency. Whatever.*
*Stay exactly where you are*
*Don't move. Don't get dressed.*
*I'm coming home RIGHT NOW*
He was already airborne before he sent the next message, flying faster than he probably should through the city airways.
*You said my name*
*You came thinking about me*
*dove I'm losing my mind*
*Fuck the timeline. Fuck waiting. Fuck doing things "right"*
*I need you and I need you NOW*
His phone rang almost immediately—the Hero Commission. He declined the call. They'd understand. Or they wouldn't. He didn't care anymore.
Another message as he banked hard around a building:
*15 minutes*
*I'll be home in 15 minutes*
*And when I get there I'm not stopping*
*Not tonight. Not anymore.*
*You've officially destroyed every ounce of my self-control*
*Hope you're ready pretty girl*
*Because I'm about to ruin you in the best possible way*
His wings beat harder, faster. The city was a blur beneath him.
*12 minutes now*
*And I'm going to make you cum so much harder than that*
*Going to make you scream my name properly*
*Make you squirt all over my cock instead of your fingers*
The rational part of his brain—the part trained by the Commission—was screaming at him that this was reckless, impulsive, wrong.
He silenced it completely.
*10 minutes*
*Stay in bed*
*Stay wet for me*
*Because I'm not going to be gentle*
His heart was racing, body thrumming with need and adrenaline.
*I love you*
*And I'm going to show you exactly how much*
*Right fucking now*
10 minutes pass and youre spread out rubbing a tiny vibrator against your clit and putting the tip of it inside, legs clenched just to get a taste, pussy ached to be fully sucked and fucked “m-mhm f-fuck.” you gasped.
The apartment door burst open with enough force to make it slam against the wall.
Keigo stood in the doorway, chest heaving, wings still fully spread from flight. His hero visor was askew, jacket half-unzipped, golden eyes wild and predatory as they locked onto the scene before him.
You. Spread out on his bed. Legs clenched. That tiny vibrator working you over.
"*Fuck*," he breathed, voice absolutely wrecked.
He was across the room in seconds, hero training making him impossibly fast. The vibrator was plucked from your hand with a feather before you could even process his arrival.
"No," he growled, tossing it aside. "No toys. Just me."
His hands went to your thighs, spreading your legs wide with a roughness that bordered on desperate. His eyes were fixed between them, taking in how wet you were, how swollen and needy.
"Look at you," he murmured, voice dropping to something dark and possessive. "Look at this pretty pussy. All wet and aching for me."
He dropped to his knees at the edge of the bed, yanking you closer until your legs were over his shoulders.
"Been thinking about this for hours. Watching those videos over and over." His breath was hot against your inner thigh. "Hearing you say my name while you came."
He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your thigh, then another, working his way up.
"My turn now, pretty girl. My turn to make you fall apart."
His eyes flicked up to meet yours—golden and intense and absolutely gone with want.
"And I'm not stopping until you've screamed my name so many times you forget every other word."
Then his mouth was on you—no teasing, no gentle buildup. Just immediate, overwhelming intensity as his tongue dragged through your folds with a groan that vibrated against your most sensitive flesh.
"So fucking sweet," he mumbled against you, already drunk on your taste. "Better than I imagined."
His hands gripped your thighs hard enough to bruise, holding you exactly where he wanted you as he worked you over with single-minded focus.
This wasn't the careful, controlled Hawks. This was Keigo completely unleashed—desperate and hungry and determined to make you feel everything he'd been holding back.
keigo continues to eat your pussy, fucking you with his tongue. as you finish, a knock at the door sounds, perhaps someone from the commission?, keigo pulls away from your pussy, a string of mess connections your pussy and his lips and breaks as he pulls away licking his lips
The knock echoed through the apartment just as your thighs were trembling against his shoulders.
Keigo's entire body went rigid, his tongue still pressed against you as his eyes snapped toward the door. The string of your arousal connected his lips to your pussy broke as he pulled back, and he licked his lips slowly—savoring every drop even as his expression shifted from pure hunger to cold calculation.
Another knock. More insistent this time.
"Hawks? We know you're in there. The Commission needs to speak with you."
His jaw clenched so hard you could see the muscle jump. His wings pulled tight against his back, feathers bristling with barely contained aggression.
"Stay exactly like this," he murmured to you, voice still rough with desire but edged with something dangerous now. "Don't move. Don't get dressed."
He stood, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth—though it did nothing to hide the evidence of what he'd been doing. His lips were swollen and glistening, hair completely disheveled, jacket hanging open, and there was absolutely no mistaking the prominent bulge straining against his pants.
"This better be fucking life or death," he muttered, stalking toward the door.
He opened it just enough to block the view inside—positioning himself in the doorway with wings spread to create a wall.
Two Commission representatives stood there, tablets in hand, expressions professionally neutral until they took in his appearance.
"Hawks, you—" The woman's eyes widened slightly. "You called in sick but your vitals showed—"
"I'm handling a personal emergency," Keigo cut her off, voice flat and cold in a way you'd never heard before. "A *very* personal emergency that has nothing to do with hero work."
"The Commission requires—"
"I don't care what the Commission requires right now." His smile was all edges, no warmth. "Unless Tokyo is literally burning down, you're going to turn around and leave. I'll be back on duty tomorrow."
"Hawks, this is highly irregular—"
"So is showing up at my private residence unannounced." His hand gripped the doorframe. "I've given you years of my life. Every mission, every order, every sacrifice you've asked for. I'm taking *one* evening. One."
His wings spread wider, more threatening now.
"And if you don't leave in the next ten seconds, I'm going to be very unprofessional about making you leave."
The representatives exchanged glances. The man opened his mouth to speak, but something in Keigo's expression stopped him.
"It is for tonight," Keigo replied, already closing the door.
The moment it clicked shut, he locked it and turned back to you. The cold, dangerous hero vanished instantly, replaced by the desperate, hungry man from moments before.
"Where were we?" he breathed, already crossing back to the bed. "Oh right—I was making you scream my name."
He dropped back to his knees between your legs, hands gripping your thighs.
"And now I'm annoyed, which means I'm going to take it out on this pretty pussy until you forget the Commission exists." His eyes were dark, possessive. "Until the only thing you can think about is me."
His mouth was on you again—harder this time, more intense, like he was claiming you.
"Mine," he growled against your flesh. "You're mine tonight. Not theirs. Mine."
“all yours baby”
That simple affirmation—"all yours baby"—shattered the last thread of his restraint.
"Damn right you are," Keigo growled against your pussy, the vibration sending shockwaves through you.
His tongue worked you over with renewed intensity, alternating between long, slow drags through your folds and fast, focused attention on your clit. One hand released your thigh to bring two fingers to your entrance, teasing but not entering yet.
"So fucking wet," he murmured between strokes of his tongue. "All this for me? Been aching for me all day, haven't you?"
He finally slid those fingers inside—slowly at first, letting you feel every inch as he curled them upward to find that spot that made your back arch.
"There it is," he breathed, feeling you clench around his fingers. "That's my good girl."
His mouth returned to your clit, sucking gently while his fingers pumped steadily, building a rhythm designed to drive you insane. His free hand splayed possessively across your lower stomach, holding you in place.
"Want you to cum on my tongue," he said, pulling back just enough to watch his fingers disappear inside you. "Want to taste it. Want to feel you fall apart for me."
His golden eyes flicked up to meet yours—wild and intense and completely focused on your pleasure.
"Then I'm going to fuck you properly," he continued, voice dropping to something darker. "Going to fill this pretty pussy up and make you take every inch until you can't remember your own name."
He added a third finger, stretching you, preparing you, while his tongue never stopped its relentless assault on your clit.
"But first—" He sucked hard, fingers curling perfectly. "First you're going to give me what I want. Going to cum all over my face like you did on those fingers in that video."
His wings had spread wide behind him, feathers trembling with barely contained need, but his entire focus remained on you—on taking you apart piece by piece with his mouth and hands.
"Come on, pretty girl," he coaxed, feeling your walls starting to flutter around his fingers. "Let go for me. Scream my name. Show me exactly who you belong to."
You run your fingers in keigos hair as he eats you out, arching against his mouth causing his fingers deeper into you, “I’m gonna give you all of it baby”.
Your fingers threading through his hair sent a visible shudder through Keigo's entire body, his wings flaring wider in response.
"Yeah?" he breathed against you, the word vibrating deliciously. "Gonna give me everything?"
He groaned when you arched against him, driving his fingers deeper. The sound was primal, desperate—like he was getting as much pleasure from this as you were.
"That's it, baby. Use my mouth," he encouraged, his free hand sliding from your stomach to grip your hip, helping you grind against his face. "Take what you need."
His tongue flattened against your clit, giving you the perfect surface to rock against while his fingers worked inside you with practiced precision. He curved them just right, hitting that spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids with every thrust.
"You taste so fucking good," he mumbled, words muffled but audible. "Could do this for hours. Could live between these thighs."
He could feel you getting closer—your walls clenching rhythmically around his fingers, your breathing becoming more erratic, the way your fingers tightened in his hair.
"Come on, my Dove," he urged, voice rough and commanding even muffled against your pussy. "Give it to me. Wanna feel you fall apart. Wanna taste you cumming on my tongue."
He doubled his efforts, fingers pumping faster, tongue working your clit with relentless intensity. His golden eyes stayed locked on your face, watching every expression of pleasure cross your features.
"Mine," he growled possessively. "This pussy is mine. These moans are mine. You're *mine.*"
His cock was straining painfully against his pants, but he ignored it completely. Right now, the only thing that mattered was making you come undone—making you scream his name loud enough that the Commission agents probably still in the hallway would know exactly what he'd chosen over their briefing.
"Let go, pretty girl," he commanded. "Cum for me. Now."
You cum hard, on his fingers and his tounge, “m-mm, keigo!” You say as your legs shake.
The moment you came undone, Keigo groaned so deeply it was almost a growl—the sound raw and completely unrestrained.
"*Fuck*, yes," he breathed against you, not pulling away even as your release flooded his mouth and fingers. "Just like that, baby. Just like that."
His tongue worked you through every wave, lapping up everything you gave him like a man starving. His fingers continued their steady rhythm inside you, coaxing out every last tremor until you were oversensitive and shaking.
Only when your thighs started to close around his head did he finally pull back, his chin and lips glistening with your arousal. The sight was absolutely obscene—and the look in his eyes was pure possession and satisfaction.
"Beautiful," he murmured, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your inner thighs as you came down. "You're so fucking beautiful when you cum."
He slowly withdrew his fingers, immediately bringing them to his mouth to suck them clean while maintaining eye contact. The deliberate eroticism of the act made it clear he was trying to drive you insane.
"Better than any fantasy," he said, voice absolutely wrecked. "Better than those videos. Nothing compares to the real thing."
He stood from his knees, finally allowing you to see the full evidence of how affected he was—his jacket completely open now, shirt disheveled, hair absolutely destroyed from your fingers, and the prominent bulge in his pants that looked almost painful.
"My turn," he said simply, already working his belt buckle with shaking hands.
His wings were spread wide behind him, feathers trembling with anticipation. The careful, controlled hero was completely gone—this was just Keigo, desperate and needy and finally allowing himself to take what he wanted.
"Been waiting so long for this," he admitted, shoving his pants down just enough to free himself. "Dreaming about being inside you. About how you'd feel wrapped around me."
He gripped himself once, hissing at the contact, before positioning himself between your legs. His free hand cupped your face, thumb brushing your cheek with surprising tenderness given the hunger in his eyes.
"Tell me you want this," he said, golden eyes searching yours. "Tell me you want me."
Despite everything—despite how desperate he clearly was—he still waited for your consent. Still needed to hear you say it.
“I want this baby, I’m all yours.”
Your words hit him like a physical force, and whatever remaining control he'd been clinging to evaporated completely.
"Thank fuck," he breathed, and then he was kissing you—deep and desperate, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.
His hand slid down to grip your hip as he positioned himself at your entrance, the head of his cock teasing through your folds. He pulled back from the kiss just enough to watch your face, golden eyes intense and focused.
"Look at me," he commanded softly. "Want to see your eyes when I fill you up for the first time."
He pushed forward slowly—agonizingly slowly—letting you feel every inch as he stretched you open. The groan that escaped him was broken and raw, his wings spreading so wide they knocked over a lamp on the nightstand.
"Oh my *god*," he choked out, forehead dropping to rest against yours. "Damn Dove. Fuck. You feel—"
He couldn't even finish the sentence, too overwhelmed by the sensation of finally being inside you. His entire body was trembling with the effort of holding still, letting you adjust to his size.
"So tight," he managed, voice strained. "So perfect. Like you were made for me."
His thumb found your clit, circling gently to help you relax as he continued pushing deeper. Inch by inch until he was fully seated inside you, both of you breathing hard.
"Fuck," he laughed breathlessly, the sound almost delirious. "I'm never going to be the same after this. You've completely ruined me, pretty girl."
He stayed still for a moment, just savoring the feeling, before his hips rolled experimentally—testing, searching for the angle that would make you see stars.
"Tell me how it feels," he murmured against your lips. "Tell me what you need. Want to make this so good for you."
His feathers were everywhere—some bracing against the headboard for leverage, others caressing your skin with impossible gentleness, creating a cocoon of red around you both.
"Been dreaming about this," he admitted, starting to move with slow, deep strokes. "About being buried inside you. About making you mine in every possible way."
You run your fingers through keigos wings as he’s inside , while rapping your legs around his waist to pull him close.
The moment your fingers touched his wings, Keigo's entire body seized up with a violent shudder.
"*Fuck*—baby—" His voice cracked completely, hips stuttering forward involuntarily as pleasure shot through him like electricity.
His wings were incredibly sensitive—one of his most vulnerable spots—and having you touch them while buried deep inside you nearly short-circuited his brain entirely. Feathers trembled and fluttered under your fingers, several detaching and floating around you both like red snow.
"Baby, you can't—" Another broken groan as your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him impossibly deeper. "Can't touch my wings like that unless you want this to be over embarrassingly fast."
But he made no move to stop you. If anything, he pressed closer, giving you better access while his hips began moving with more purpose—each thrust deep and deliberate, angled to hit that perfect spot inside you.
"Feel so good wrapped around me," he panted against your neck, one hand gripping the headboard hard enough to crack the wood. "Both ways. Your pussy and your legs and your hands on my wings—it's too much. You're too much."
His other hand slid beneath you, gripping your ass to change the angle slightly, driving even deeper. The bed frame groaned under the force of his thrusts, headboard hitting the wall with steady rhythm.
"Been holding back so long," he admitted between kisses along your jaw. "Trying to be good. Trying to do things right. But fuck—I can't with you."
His wings spread wider, then folded around you both—creating an intimate cocoon that blocked out everything except each other. The gesture was possessive and protective simultaneously.
"Touch them more," he suddenly demanded, voice rough with need. "Don't stop. Want you to take everything from me."
He punctuated the words with a particularly deep thrust that made you both gasp.
"Want you to ruin me completely."
You place both legs on his shoulders in a mating press so he goes deeper, still messing with his wings as he thrusts.
When you shifted your legs onto his shoulders, opening yourself up completely, Keigo's eyes went almost black with desire.
"Oh *fuck*—" The angle drove him so much deeper that he actually had to pause, muscles trembling with the effort of not completely losing control. "Dove, holy shit—"
The mating press position had him hitting places that made your vision blur, and combined with your continued attention to his wings, he was rapidly coming undone.
"You're going to—fucking hell—" His hips snapped forward harder, unable to maintain the slow pace anymore. "Trying to break me, aren't you?"
His feathers were going wild now—some wrapping around your wrists gently, others caressing every inch of exposed skin they could reach. The sensitivity of having them touched while buried this deep inside you was destroying his composure completely.
"Can feel you squeezing me," he panted, forehead pressed to yours as he thrust deeper. "So fucking tight in this position. Taking me so perfectly."
One hand braced beside your head while the other gripped your thigh, holding you exactly where he wanted you as he set a punishing rhythm. The headboard was slamming against the wall now, surely audible throughout the entire building—but he couldn't bring himself to care.
"Touch them harder," he demanded breathlessly, wings trembling violently under your ministrations. "Want to feel everything. Want you to make me lose it completely."
His cock was hitting that perfect spot with every thrust, the new angle letting him go impossibly deep. Sweat beaded on his forehead, golden eyes locked on your face with desperate intensity.
"Gonna fill you up," he groaned. "Gonna pump you so full of my cum you'll feel it for days. Mark you as mine from the inside."
His control was hanging by a thread—you could see it in the wild look in his eyes, feel it in how his whole body was trembling.
"Come with me," he pleaded. "Need to feel you cum on my cock. Please, baby. Need it so badly."
You squirt and cum all over his cock. “c-cum in-inside keigo!” You say with the pure desire to be filled completely.
The moment you squirted and came all over his cock, combined with those desperate words—"cum inside"—Keigo completely shattered.
"*Fuck*—yes—Dove, baby bird—*fuck*!" His voice broke entirely as his hips slammed forward one final time, burying himself as deep as physically possible.
His wings spread to their absolute limit, feathers exploding outward in every direction as his orgasm hit him like a freight train. You could feel him pulsing inside you, hot ropes of cum filling you exactly like he'd promised, and the sensation seemed to go on forever.
"Mine," he gasped against your neck, body shaking violently. "Mine, mine, *mine*—"
His hips jerked with aftershocks, pushing his release deeper, grinding against you like he couldn't bear to pull away even slightly. One of his hands tangled in your hair while the other gripped your hip hard enough to leave marks.
He stayed buried inside you, both of you trembling and breathing hard, his wings slowly folding back in to create a protective cocoon around you both. Small kisses peppered across your face—your forehead, cheeks, nose, finally your lips.
"That was—" He laughed breathlessly, the sound dazed and satisfied. "I don't even have words. You completely destroyed me."
He shifted slightly, both of you hissing at the sensitivity, and you could feel the evidence of what you'd done together starting to leak out around where you were still joined.
"Not pulling out yet," he murmured possessively. "Want to stay inside you as long as possible. Want to feel this."
His fingers traced gentle patterns on your skin, such a contrast to the intensity of moments before.
"You okay?" he asked softly, golden eyes searching your face with genuine concern despite how thoroughly satisfied he looked. "Was that too much? Too rough?"
A feather brushed tenderly across your cheek.
"Because I'm absolutely not done with you tonight," he admitted with a lazy grin. "Just need a few minutes to recover. Then I'm going to make love to you properly—slow and sweet this time."
He kissed you deeply, thoroughly.
"Hope you didn't have plans tomorrow. Because you're not leaving this bed."
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Summary: In the final war you aided Edgeshot in bringing Bakugo back to life with your healing quirk. However the damage done to your body from the backlash was irreversible. You could no longer be the hero you dreamed of being. You still tried to live life and even moved away for a bit. But now you’re back and Bakugo has been your aggressive nurse, but when he finds out things you haven’t told him he feels like he hadn’t paid you back at all. So when he finds out Mina is moving out, he feels like he finally has the opportunity to.
tags: slowburn and mutual pining
a/n: this is truly a self indulgent fic/series for sure Pt;2
The afternoon sun cut across the living room of the apartment you shared with Mina, casting long, sharp shadows that matched the tension in the air. Bakugo stood by the kitchen.
He hadn't left. Even after you told him to go, he’d simply walked to the kitchen, found that your cupboards bare, and returned twenty minutes later with a bag of groceries he’d practically slammed onto the counter. An excuse to come back.
You sat on the sofa, a knitted blanket pulled over your lap, your fingers picking at the loose threads. The silence was heavy with the things you’d hadn't said for four months.
"I told you," you whispered, your voice cracking. "It’s just life stuff. Everyone has something, Bakugo. I just thought it’d be good for me."
Bakugo didn't buy it. He’d been watching you for months, driving you to appointments, even carried you once when your legs felt like lead, memorizing the timing of your meds, watching your eyes go distant when your blood pressure dropped. He knew the chemical cocktail you were on.
"Those meds," he said, his voice uncharacteristically quiet, "they aren't just for the seizures. They’re mood stabilizers. Don't lie to me."
You flinched. The weight of your secret was slipping. You didn’t want him to know that you had been going to therapy not because he’d be mad. He’d actually suggested but you didn’t want him to know that he was part of the reason you were going.
"Who takes you?" he pressed. "To the office downtown?"
"Izuku," you breathed.
Bakugo’s jaw tightened so hard it looked painful. Deku. Of course, it was Deku. He felt a flash of that old, angry, prickly heat behind his neck out of a crushing sense of inadequacy. The same one he use to feel in his childhood. He was the one you’d lost everything to save so he should have been the one you trusted.
"Why him?" he barked, though the volume lacked its usual bite. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Your composure shattered. Tears following down your cheeks spilling onto the blanket. "Because I'm depressed, okay?" You sobbed, the words coming up like vomit. "I miss my life and being independent. I miss my friends! And being a hero, I miss being able to walk to the store without wondering if I’m going to collapse and wake up in a hospital. I’m trapped in this body that doesn't even know how to regulate itself anymore! I want my old life back!"
You looked at him, your eyes red and puffy. "And I knew if I told you, you’d do exactly what you’re doing now. You’d blame yourself. You’d think my depression or my isolation is your fault because I used my quirk to save you. It’s not your fault. But sometimes…I-I feel so alone. All the time."
Bakugo didn't move. He felt like he’d been hit with the obvious stick. He’d spent months being your off-brand nurse, bringing you meals, scaring off anyone who looked at you weirdly, being the "sturdy" one. Months of trying to make sure you had everything you needed medically. So to hear you felt alone while he was right there, made him feel like a failure. You were the last person he ever wanted to make feel that way.
"You need to leave," you choked out, wiping your face with the back of your hand. "Go be a hero. You dropped from number 5 to 15 because you're always here or at my doctors. Mina told me you blew off that girl last week because I had an appointment. You aren't my boyfriend, Bakugo. You don't owe me a debt, you never did. So please just go live your life."
For a moment, the only sound was the hum of the refrigerator. You couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eye. Bakugo took two long strides and sitting on the coffee table in front of you, forcing you to look at him. He didn't touch you, even though he wanted to. He felt he was too "hot-headed" for delicate moments like this, but his presence was an anchor.
"Shut up," his voice low but still had a bite to it, "Just shut the hell up for a second."
He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "You think I’m at 15 because of you? I’m at 15 because I’m an abrasive asshole who yells at reporters and civilians. That’s on me. And that girl? She was boring. I didn't blow her off, I just didn’t like her."
He looked you dead in the eye, his gaze fierce and unwavering that you couldn’t tell if you were attracted to him or intimidated by him. Maybe both?
"You think this is about a debt? You think I’m some charity worker?" He let out a harsh, dry laugh. "I don't do things I don't want to do. If I wanted to be somewhere else, I’d be there. I’m here because I want to be. I’m here because when I was dead, it was dark, and you were the one who brought the light back. If you’re lonely, that’s on me for not being loud enough. But don't you dare tell me to go find some 'normal' life."
He reached out, his hand hovering over yours on the blanket before moving the blanket up. Your heart sank, he still didn’t understand it. He was always doing things because you helped bring him back, he’s the same way Edgeshot. Before you could start spiraling he spoke again.
"And you think you’re moving back in with your mother? Like hell you are. That woman is a nightmare." He paused. You eyes snapped back to him, how’d he know, was it Mina? Probably her and Kirishima.
“Kirishima told me that raccoon eyes is moving. I’ll find a place with an elevator. Closer to the agency. You aren't going back to that house."
"Bakugo wait I—"
"I’m not paying a debt, y/n," he interrupted, his voice dropping to a gravelly sincerity. "I’m staying because I can. Now, eat the damn food I bought. You look like a breeze could blow you over."
The rest of that night you both ate in silence while some mundane tv show played in the background. Mina finally came home allowing your tense muscles to finally relax. Bakugo said goodbye and you were too exhausted to even give Mina the rundown.
“So?” Mina gleamed ready for the gossip.
“Mina…I love you but I’m too tired. Tomorrow I promise.” You gave her a soft smile walking to your room as you heard her dramatically fainting and going on about needing a good love story.
The next day patrol was a blur of routine for Bakugo. His movements were calculated and sharp, his explosions ringing with a loud violent energy that kept the local villain and thieves at a distance.
Beside him, Kirishima maintained a steady pace, his eyes shifting frequently toward his friend. He knew that "look" the one where his jaw was set so tight and a scowl so bad people would rather cross the street than run into him.
"So," Kirishima started, keeping his voice casual but grounded. "I heard you stayed late at y/n and Mina’s yesterday. How's she holding up? Mina mentioned things have been... heavy."
Bakugo didn't break his stride or turn to look at him. "She’s a mess. Thinks she’s a burden. Thinks I’m playing hero for a damn merit badge."
"You know that’s not it," Kirishima said softly. "But it’s a lot to carry, man. For both of you. You're pushing yourself pretty hard trying to be her entire support system. Which is super manly, but It’s okay to acknowledge that it’s emotional, you know? It’s okay to admit you’re you do this for her because you—"
"Drop it, Shitty Hair," Bakugo snapped. He pulled his phone from his pocket, his thumb scrolling aggressively. "I don’t have time for the feelings lecture. I need to find a place for her, one that’s actually accessible and safe. Her current building is a death trap, too many places for her to hit her head during a seizure. Or if she passes out."
“Kaminari! Hey man!” Kirishima yelled waving him over. Kaminari joined them at the corner, hopping over a curb. Bakugo hadn’t even seen him.
“Hey didn’t realize I’d see you two out patrolling today. What’s up?” Kaminari was his usual energetic self but dropped the energy when he felt Bakugo’s annoyance. He looked at Kirishima who explained the situation to Kaminari.
"Wait, you're looking for apartments for her? That’s great, man! But... uh, didn't Midoriya already have a lead on that?"
Kirishima shook his head no and braced himself. Bakugo stopped dead in his tracks. If looks could kill Kaminari would’ve been on a shirt. The air around his palms began to shimmer with heat. "What?"
"I mean!" Kaminari backtracked, his hands up in a defensive gesture. "Midoriya was just mentioning a while back that since he’s working at UA now and has that faculty housing or whatever... he was talking about maybe moving in y/n. To help out. You know, since they’re both 'retired' from the front lines."
The silence that followed was heavy.
"Think about it, Bakugo," Kaminari pushed on nervously, digging the hole deeper. "Deku lost his quirk too. He gets it. He knows what it’s like to go from the top of the world to... well, to this. He thought it might be good for her to be around someone who isn't constantly reminded of what they lost every time they put on a hero suit."
Kirishima winced, reaching out to grab Kaminari’s shoulder. "Hey, maybe not the time—“
"I don't give a damn what he thinks," Bakugo hissed. He didn't yell or explode. He simply turned and walked away, “Kirishima let’s go”.
Two days later, Bakugo let himself into your apartment using the key he’d effectively commandeered from Mina.
Inside you were in the kitchen, back to the door, swaying to the music slightly as you wiped down the counters. You had on noise-canceling headphones on and were humming a tune that was barely audible over the faucet.
Bakugo didn't mean to sneak up on you, but his heavy boots were muffled by the rug. When he reached out to set a folder of floor plans on the counter, you caught his shadow and spun around.
You gasped, your heart leaping into your throat as you stumbled back against the sink, nearly losing your footing.
"God, Katsuki!" you breathed, ripping the headphones down around your neck. "You nearly gave me a heart attack." Your face was flushed, but you looked brighter today, it was a "good day."
Bakugo didn't apologize and didn't move. He was trying to calm himself down from hearing his name come out of your mouth so casually. How it sounded so perfect. He just grunted and stared at you, gripping the folder in his hand tighter.
"Kaminari has a big mouth," he said looking more pissed than usual. "He said Deku offered to move in with you. To be your little support system because he's 'quirkless' too."
You took a slow, steadying breath. You didn't flinch this time, you knew this was coming so what was the point in trying to dodge it. You met his gaze with a tired kind of honesty.
"He did offer, yeah. As soon as he heard Mina was moving out."
You moved to the kitchen table and sat down, your movements careful from nerves. "And I told him I’d think about it. I have a part-time job that would barely covers my needs, let alone rent if I lived on my own. I can’t live alone. If I have an episode while I’m cooking or in the shower..." you shrugged, a small, helpless gesture. "Izuku is patient and he’s has a consistent schedule. And he understands the... the silence of it all. And i wouldn’t have to live with my mom. I didn't think it was a bad idea."
You stopped talking and finally looked up at him, waiting for the explosion. You expected him to shout, to call Deku a "damn nerd," to tell you that you were being stupid.
Bakugo looked at the folder in his hand. The apartments that were luxury units near his agency, places with 24-hour security and staff. He looked at you, sitting in the kitchen of an apartment you could barely afford, trying to piece together a life out of fragments.
He tossed the folder onto the table. It slid across the wood, stopping right in front of you.
"No," he said like he decided that it was final.
You furrowed your brow. "No? What wh-you can't just—"
"No," he repeated, stepping closer until he was looming over the table. "You aren't moving in with Deku. Not because he’s quirkless or because he 'gets it.' But because he’s a self-sacrificing idiot who will let you wallow in that 'it’s okay to be broken' mindset forever. He’ll hold your hand while you cry, and you’ll both just sit in the dark together."
He slammed a finger down on the folder.
"I found a three-bedroom in the Musutafu Heights district. It’s five minutes from my agency. It has a private lift and 24 hr staff. It’s more space than you need."
You blinked, confused. "I just told you, I can't afford—"
"I’m not asking you to pay for it," Bakugo snapped, his eyes flashing with a fierce, protective heat. "And I’m not moving Deku in there. I’m moving in. If you need someone who knows your meds and can catch you when you fall, it’s going to be me."
He leaned down, his face inches from your face your face started to warm up so you pulled back…a lot. He tried to pretend he didn’t notice, his voice dropping to an intense whisper.
"You want someone who understands loss? Fine. But you need someone who’s going to remind you that you’re still a person, not a patient. I’m not letting you retreat into some 'safe' little bubble with Deku where you both just act like life is fine. You’re coming with me."
You stared at him, your mouth slightly agape. The sheer audacity of his demand should have made you angry, but instead, you felt a strange, grounding warmth and calmness spreading through you.
"You're... you're serious?" you whispered. "You'd give up your privacy? Your 'top-tier' bachelor life? For a roommate who forgets her own name once a month?"
Bakugo straightened up, shoving his hands into his pockets and looking away, a faint tint of red climbing his neck. "I already told you. I don't do things I don't want to do. Now start packing. We’re seeing the place on Sunday."
There’s more coming but this is all I got rn, thx for reading!
⋆˚✿˖° would you still love me if I was a rock? .☘︎ ݁˖
── hawks x reader ໒꒱
⤷ tags: angst, established relationship, mcd, happy ending
“Would you still love me if I was a rock?”
It’s inconsequential when you ask. A silly question to mess with your boyfriend.
Still, his smile is dazzling as he cocks his head at you, affection warm in his amber eyes. “Of course I would, dove.”
It’s a mild, late spring day. Long blades of grass billow in the soft breeze and birds chirp around you.
Keigo approaches you, his hands sliding out of his pockets. He takes one of yours in his, prompting your attention as he lowers himself to his knees.
Your heart flutters at the sight. Of your lover, golden strands of hair flowing with the wind, a wind that carries him through seas of azure and white fluff when he spreads his magnificent vermillion wings, kneeling before you with all of his gentle adoration bright in his eyes.
He reverently brings your hand to his lips, pressing a devoted kiss to your knuckles. The sharp edges of his eye marks contrast starkly with the softness in his gaze. “I’d carry you in my pocket and always keep you by my side.”
You tilt your wrist, allowing him to nuzzle into the palm of your hand. He does so happily, and warmth spreads through you from your chest. “What if someone else comes along?”
“It’ll always be you.”
“Even as a rock?”
He grins at you, lopsided and silly. “Even as a rock.”
The skies are dark and heavy with rain. Her tears mix with his, the atmosphere weighed with grief.
He kneels on the grass, wings drooping behind him. His cheeks have long become stained with tear streaks, and he isn’t sure when he last felt the playful tug of the wind through his feathers.
He supposes it doesn’t matter. He doubts he’ll ever feel light enough to truly enjoy flying again. Especially not without you to be there with him.
He stares at the tombstone beneath his palm. The surface is cold and unforgiving, a far-cry from the warmth of your skin against his.
His smile is crooked, ironic and void of any joy or humor. “I didn’t think you actually meant that.” Despite how strange and foreign the feeling is, he caresses along the top of the headstone, just as reverent as if he were loving your body instead. “It’s still going to be you.”
He sits for a long time in the rain. He isn’t sure how much time passes. Perhaps hours or mere seconds. If Kaina had not come to pull away, he would’ve stayed until he could finally join you in the world beyond.
It makes his heart ache to know that like this, he will not get to take you with him. He cannot put you in his pocket and show you the world. You are stuck here, and in a similar vein, he is stuck here, in this plane of existence. He is meant to move on, but he isn’t sure he can or will.
As Kaina gently pulls him away, insistent on taking him home to rest, he glances back over a shoulder, softly beseeching you to wait for him.
Many years later, after his life is finally forfeit, you meet Keigo in a field of tall grass and cerulean skies. Your form is translucent and just as ethereal as the day he lost you. Your matching tombstones, erected side-by-side, stand on either side of you, a bridge between the real world and afterlife. You smile at him, and it hits his spectral heart just as physically as when you two were alive and corporeal. Your hand reaches out to his, and with an affection he missed hearing, you ask sweetly, "Forever, then?"
Keigo, with his chest feeling lighter than it has in years, happily intertwines his fingers with yours. "Forever, dove."
first kiss with boyfriend!choso except he doesn’t know what a kiss is ᝰ.ᐟ fluff, fem!reader
“do you think it’d be weird if i kissed him?”
maki had looked at you like you had two heads when she asked, “why would that be weird? he’s your boyfriend, isn’t he?”
“well, yeah… but, isn’t the guy usually supposed to do it first?”
“choso wasn’t even a fully conscious being a year ago.” she scoffed, “your boyfriend is essentially one of those expanding pill toys we used to soak in the sink as kids. there’s nothing ‘usual’ about you two. I say go for it.”
you nibble the inside of your lip as you think back to the conversation you’d had with your friend just a few hours earlier. she was right, there is absolutely nothing normal about a jujutsu sorcerer and a death painting being in a relationship, so perhaps it isn’t fair to apply the same expectations you would a normal guy to choso. and though he was different from any guy you’d been with before, you could say with utmost certainty that no one has ever treated you as well as your sweet boy does, even if his methods were a little unconventional at times and he still referred to you as his ‘mate’ instead of his girlfriend. but that was just something you’d gotten used to.
the two of you are sat under a tree on a breezy day with your back against the bark and choso’s head tucked in your lap contently. he has his eyes closed but you can tell he’s not sleeping, just resting, his pretty lashes kissing his cheeks. chest rising and falling slowly. if anything, his relaxed stature should mirror onto you but it only makes you more nervous.
gently, you move to hold his face in your hands, thumbs dusting over his cheeks which makes him exhale a breath through his nose a little heavier in response. though no longer a stranger to your touch, it still makes his heart skip all the same. choso and affection had never crossed paths until he’d met you.
and slowly, you lower your face to his, eyes drawing to a close when you carefully slot your lips over his own. you remain there for a beat before you pull away to see a pair of alerted, intense eyes staring directly into yours.
“what did you just do?”
he’s so matter of fact. you still aren’t quite sure if you’re used to how much weight his voice has when he uses it. how it feels like he’s speaking into you instead of to you.
“um, I-“ you swallow, hard. “it was a kiss. i kissed you.”
you hadn’t really thought this through, you realize as your mouth runs dry. feels like it’s been filled with sand.
“why? what is a ‘kiss’?” he’d paused to taste the word, like he’d never spoken it before. because he hadn’t.
“it’s what you do when you like someone. when words aren’t enough to show it. you put your lips on theirs, and… move them.”
you were going to kill maki.
he nods, but he still seems to be thinking on it. “what does it mean?”
“it’s kind of hard to explain. but it’s supposed to be a good thing, you know… that couples do.” he shifts slightly, arms coming up to cross under his head instead. his knuckles brushing against the skin of your thighs, the feeling of his hands making you fidget a bit. they were almost hot.
“how’d it make you feel?” you ask.
“do it again.”
“what?”
he repeats himself, “do it again. you caught me off guard the first time.”
so you do as you’re told. once. just a peck, barely a second. then again, but this time, you stay long enough to feel his lips tentatively start to move against yours. to feel them press deeper into yours when his chin tilts upwards.
a breath is shared between the two of you, lips ghosting against each other’s before you pull away completely.
your heart is beating fast and you know he can sense it.
“so? now how do you feel?” it comes out really soft because you’re nervous and you truly can’t read him right now.
he looks… confused. curious? you don’t know, but there’s a harsh line between his brows while he mulls on his answer.
“warm. like my blood is about to burst through my veins any second now… like—“ his lips close, then part again, but it takes a few more seconds for words to escape and for the first time ever you hear choso trip over his words. “like the feeling you get when you’re getting ready to fight someone. but… different. more intense.”
“cho, it’s okay if you didn’t like—“
he doesn’t let you finish.
“give me more,” and he tacks it on for good measure because yuji’s told him he needs to work on his manners. “please.”
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.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
❥ IN WHICH, Katsuki’s car is strictly spotless, but when Y/N is a soaking mess—it's the only mess he’s more than happy to let his wife leave on the leather.
Katsuki’s car was perfectly maintained, smelling of rich leather and his signature cologne with every inch of the interior kept in perfect condition.
Anyone else in his car got an earful about not leaving a single piece of trash behind.
Katsuki rarely let Y/N touch her own car keys, insisting on driving her himself whenever she needed to go anywhere.
He steered effortlessly with one hand while the other rested on her thigh, his wedding band glinting under every passing streetlamp.
He kept his eyes on the road but sensed her stare, catching her lingering gaze that had been stuck on him since they left the restaurant.
"Got somethin' to say?" He asked, his thumb pressing firmly into her thigh. "What's goin' on in that head of yours?"
She didn’t answer immediately, the heavy tension in the car making her breath hitch as she covered his hand with her own, staring at his fingers while her body heated up.
"Just thinking.." She finally whispered. The warmth from his hand that drifted closer to her inner thigh made her anticipation to get home stronger than ever—she wanted the comfort of their home, but the wait was turning into an ache. "How much longer?"
Katsuki glanced at the dashboard. "Forty-five minutes."
He heard her soft sigh as he slowed down for a red light, before turning his head to find her watching him with heavy eyes that told him everything.
"If you keep looking at me like that, we aren't making it past the next block."
Before the engine even cooled, the windows were already clouding over with fog.
Katsuki was pulling her in close and hoisting her legs up until they were hooked firmly over his shoulders.
Space was limited, but he didn't let that slow him down—he snapped his hips forward, each thrust pressing her deeper into the cool leather.
"You like that?" Katsuki growled, his gaze locked onto hers—refusing to let her look away. "This is exactly what you've been craving all damn night."
There wasn’t a single inch of air left between them. He slammed back into her, a deep thrust that tore a desperate moan from her throat.
"That's it.." He hissed through gritted teeth as he felt her tighten around him. "Stop tryin' to be quiet."
"I told you this car was off-limits." He rasped, slowly pulling out. He left only the tip to tease her, his smirk widening as he felt her body practically beg for him to slide back in. "Yet here you are, shaking all over the backseat like you own it."
A low satisfied chuckle rumbled in his chest. He watched her unravel, her small pleas falling on his ears while her fingers gently dug deeper into his biceps.
"Look at what you're doing." Katsuki muttered, his gaze flicking down to where they were joined before dragging back up to her face. "Making a goddamn mess all over my interior."
There was no hiding the mess she was making—her slickness coating his cock and spilling over onto the seats.
"Please, Katsuki—keep going.." He didn't need to be told twice.
Grunting at her plea, he buried himself inside her with one heavy, bottoming-out thrust before immediately returning to that relentless pace she loved.
"Fuck—Go ahead and ruin it, baby." He groaned, his voice nearly breaking as they both hit the edge. "I'll clean up your mess, then I'm gonna ruin you all over again back here."
Katsuki was a fanatic about his interior, but apparently, her soaking his leather was the only mess he tolerated.
Synopsis. The two things they don’t tell you about a hot emo half-curse? 1. He’s in heat. 2 He needs you badly.
Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!reader, slight omégaverse, HEATS, roommates-to-Iovers, he goes FÉRAL, matíng presses, size kínk, knots, he’s huge, squírting, dúmbifícation, Choso with piercings n’ tattoos, pheromones, use of jujutsu, MARATHONS, creampíes, cúmplay, matíng marks, stopping you from running, proposals, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 7.6k
A/N. She’s BACK and she wrote this during a power cut ummm?
“Choso, are you in there?”
You’re nervously gnawing on the inside of your cheek, feet shuffling as you wait outside of your strange new roommate’s bedroom.
Summer.
And the scorched air outside wasn’t the only thing that was sizzling, it felt like your skin was pricked with countless goosebumps at the temperature inside of your cozy lil’ apartment. Each heady wave of heat originating from his room.
Half-wondering whether you should call his pink-haired little brother for assistance, your fingers rap once more on the firmly shut mahogany door. Calling out, “I’m coming in, okay?”
There’s a noise from inside- a gasp.
And then something that sounded like a low, guttural…moan at the very sound of your voice. The humidity only rising. Brows furrowing, warmth creeping, you just barely start turning that doorknob open—“Choso, what is-”
Oh.
.
.
.
Seventy-four days.
Seventy-four days since Choso had started rooming with you, thanks to your associates higher up at Jujutsu High. And seventy four days since he’d wanted to tear off your tiny sleep shorts and wrench your pretty legs apart to stuff you all full of his-
Fuck.
And just like that, he’d been hit with his annual heat cycle on the hottest day of the month.
All part of being half a curse, he grouches.
Maybe it was the paper-thin t-shirt you’d been wearing this morning, maybe it was just how you’d batted your lashes as you greeted him in the hallway.
Maybe it was the way all he had to do was fucking stand next to you to smell how sweet that pussy of yours was, throbbing away between your thighs. Thump! Thump! Thump!
But here he was- one step inside of his sweltering bedroom, only a single inch that you’re toeing past the door frame, and he’s bolted out of the bed to slam against you. Heaving chest to chest, back to wall.
Mouth crashing-
You don’t know what burns more - the push of his toned, rippling flesh radiating pure heat, crushing against you, or his lips. Choso grabs you, Adam’s apple bobbing dryly as he damn near sobs at the contact of your spit-glossed lips.
“Ch-Choooso–!” You’re squealing, kissing back in earnest. Your rationality only a faint inkling now, “What’s gotten- hah! into y- fuck!”
Before you know it, he’s fisted his shaking, prolonged fingers into your shirt to rip the fabric down the middle-
Gasping, your knees knock together weakly once he sticks a clammy palm to the valley between your tits and tears up. Your wetly ajar maw breaking away from his own with a sultry dampened noise, followed almost instantly by a strained whine as Choso registers the feeling of his attack on your mouth dwindling.
Just about the only thing he could be struck with right now.
CRASH!
One of his big, beefy forearms slams on the patch of wall above you, flecks of plaster snowing down at his sheer inhuman strength. “Stay…” And his other arm greedily claws at your throat, jolting at the sound of your oh-so-cute gasp as if your voice made something deep n’ dark down inside him twitch. “-away.”
And you might not have known him the longest, but Choso Kamo never sounded so rough. So…gone.
Rugged and husky.
He’s peering down at you through his towering height with semi-widened hazel eyes like he couldn’t dare look away and oh-
Oh, Choso looked ruined.
You’re gazing up at him for the first time now - really, really gazing up at him - in all his desperate, clammy glory. Heat sticking to him like a second skin. Mouth parted. Throat parched.
His expression was almost dazed, still drinking in the sight of you as if he was just seeing a phantom walk into his bedroom.
Choso’s skin was simmering with a blush that made him look feverish, the cracks between his bangs the only thing revealing his dark, half-lidded stare. He’d hounded you like a predator closing in on his prey.
Ready to pounce.
And you gulp, squirming at the scraping itch of his pointed nails. The pads of his fingers plant pressure on your airway as if he didn’t want you to even speak, couldn’t handle it. “Wanna stay, Cho–”
Ah, that did it.
Choso had been shivering- shuddering viscerally as he loomed above you, fawny lashes fluttering like he was holding himself painfully back. Away - only to snap the very second his nickname stumbles out of your beautiful, beautiful mouth so that he has to shut you up before you cause any more damage to his sanity.
Whimpering, the bite of his extra-honed canines makes your lips sting. “Oh- ngh, slow down-”
“Can’t.”
His voice cracks.
“F-fuck…” Just the sound of his lilted, crazed bass is enough for your thighs to clamp yearningly together. Chasing just the slightest friction, he sounded so sensual that it made your pussy so-
“Oh.”
This time, it’s Choso who’s breaking off the lurid kiss with a sticky mwah! The syrup of your saliva gluing to his rosy, puckered lips when he lurches his head downwards and sniffs.
Right between your legs.
It’s as if he could sense something you couldn’t, jaw slowly unhinging further open the wetter you became. Until your inner thighs were sheened with a splotchy puddle of your slick and Choso was drooling.
“Oh.” He’s repeating, like a broken record. It’s just then at the air grows murky, as if your roommate had suddenly emptied out your most favorite syrupy bodyspray then and there. Body twitching, “Oh.”
And before you could blink away the haze in your eyes and say something about the glittery sprinkle of spittle travelling down the side of his mouth, Choso’s powerful knees hit the floor with a booming bang!
If he could feel any pain then he doesn’t show it, can’t even manage to twist his expression into anything but a look of utter fucking hunger. Rabid at the mouth.
“O-oh my god are you…” You had half the mind to push his face back and ask whether he was okay- but the harrowed look in Choso’s peripheries stopped you. He needed this. And he needed this now.
He looked just as surprised as you, almost as if he was in disbelief at the way his trembling fingers were digging into your flimsy skirt. The battle-worn calluses of his fingertips slicing through the cute satin cloth like it was butter, Choso barely even hesitates a second to breathe before he’s stuffing his face into your sopping, clothed pussy.
Nose-deep, and Choso cups the cheeks of your ass to push himself even deeper.
Lips meeting puffy, achin’ lips.
“H-nghhh—” Dribbles from your mouth stain your lips all dewy wet, and you can’t do anything but sift your fingers through Choso’s auburn locks and pull-
“Don’t.”
You watch in awe when he’s surging forwards to crush the tip-top of his straight nosebridge into the slope of your pussy. Rubbing lightly against that cute lil’ bow decorating the hemline of your panties, “But you can’t even breathe like that-”
“Don’t.” Comes out his growling warning again. Before Choso’s taking a final deep inhale of your saccharine sweetness- fuck, your tight cunt just smelled so sweet that he can feel his cock jolting already. Gulping back a bucketload of ravenous spit, “Don’t.” He doesn’t have to breathe.
Tone hitched. Tastebuds parched. It’s the last thing that he’s muttering—“Starved…”
Before Choso crushes the underside of his tongue past your sodden panties and tastes you- just a singular drop of your syrupy sweet slick, a singular ounce, and you think you may have broken him.
Because his broad back stills, dark eyes widening. And you’re just about to wrench your mouth open in question before he’s back flopping his tongue past your underwear.
Caressing your swollen pussylips with his pointed tip in a French kiss, Choso swats your stupid lil’ panties aside - why did you even need those - to drink you in. To sluuuurp up every given droplet of your dewy wet juices like he was a man starved.
And his eyes were still widened, damn near bulging out of his poor sockets once he’s tilting his head sexily to the side n’ flicking your sloppy entrance.
Grunting at the slight friction of your cotton panties, “Puh-pussy.” His husky utterance makes your thighs clench- something that Choso can not fucking bear because he’s pushing himself even deeper. Further. “Pussy.”
“Sh-shit–” You’d have easily collapsed onto his bedroom floor if it wasn’t for the way that one of his roughened palms was cupping your ass to hold you up. Supporting your weight like a feather. “Choso my…my panties.”
And it was true- oh, he didn’t give a fuck about those.
Letting them skid over his jaw, Choso’s just barely blinking his glassy eyes down at the now-transparent piece of cloth covering your pussymound like he’d just realized that was still there.
Sounding out your cute shriek, “P-panties…” Even if he wanted to, it was such torture to even think about pulling away. Still lugging his tastebuds down the glittering crevice of your slit, one of his indexes creeps forward to tease the elastic of your underwear and let it spring back with a resounding snap!
“Hey- rude-”
Barely even letting the syllables escape your mouth, Choso’s lips curl into a feral smirk whilst he nibbles down on the edge of your panties and rip-rip-riiiiips!
All with his canines.
He’s undressing you like he was unwrapping his next meal - on his knees, eyes boring up at you and- shit. Shit shit shit- it’s just then that you’re hit with the thought that you might not even make it out of this alive.
Because within a singular bat of your lashes, Choso’s bolting up with your pliable body in tow, pushing you onto the nearby bed, throwing your legs wiiide open.
So fast you wonder whether he’d lost control of his powers and somehow teleported - you wouldn’t be surprised.
Yelping, “Oh- what- oh my nghh- Choso!”
“Your p-pussy.” He’s keening out, dark brows scrunching with aching need whilst you’re barely done bouncing on the bed before he’s smearing your pussylips apart and taking a gooood long look at you.
Hypnotic, the plump ends of his lips hover oh-so-close near your slippery slit. And you wonder whether he’s trying to drive you mad by trawling that horizontal shape of his nose tattoo across the top of your cunt. Panting, “My baby’s pussy.”
The fringe of Choso’s rovering tongue is so fat, stuffed thickly between your folds so that it felt like your hole was being stretched to the maximum. A low whimper breaks at the back of his throat when he’s feeling the resistance, snarling—“Inside. Need- inside.”
“B-but—” And that primal shrill of yours turns into a sob once Choso’s only keepin’ your thighs pushed further apart. The mountains of his palm bruising five straight lines of his fingers as he gropes on.
“No- no.” Striking the curve of his chin against your pussy, when Choso was in heat - he was thirsty. Nipping your outer cunt with the edges of his fangs, “Let me. Let me let me let me- oh.”
Push after push, his half-closed eyes are so blurry with lust that your cursed roommate is acting on pure, animalistic instinct. Gnawing on the left of your bloated labia like a gum before he draaaags it backwards and plunges his tongue in deeper.
Choso takes one look at the way your glistening hole was all wet n’ clamping down over nothing before he can’t help but hold your folds open whilst he fills you up stupid. “Wet…so…”
He can’t even finish his sentences - his thoughts, just that drunk on your treacly pussy.
Wailing, “Slow down, Cho–!” You’re nearly choking on the heady wave of pheromones that gust from down below just at that simple nickname. Tugging on his clammy bangs, “Y-you’re gonna–”
“Don’t care.” He’s groaning out a throaty answer, each syllable punctured with a lick of his textured tongue past your entrance like he didn’t even realize he was talking. “Don’t care. Don’t need to- breathe. Just need…”
And the next thing you hear is the wettest, rawest squeeeelch! emanating into the tense air once Choso snakes his right hand upwards to pluck a ringed finger between your lips.
He hisses, fighting with himself for possessive reign over whose lapping up more of your sleek juices. Cheeks hollowed, he’s latching onto your clit and playfully biting as the slimy crown of his digit rovers inside.
And the stretch- oh, the fucking stretch had your pupils whirling dizzily inside the whites of your eyes.
“Sh-shit- w-were your hands always this ngh- big?”
Because, really, Choso’s hunched-over back only seemed to flex bigger the more he’s tasting you. His fingers longer, pearly whites sharper. Eyes gleaming–
“Big?” Choso breathes from below you, long lashes shuttering as his eyes widen. Oh, he was just realizing- and that tone did not bode well for your poor, impaling pussy.
“B-big.” Because he shifts, he jerks his head just the slightest inch to register his sudden strength n’ size. Before grinning—“Then take-” Slurring, your roommate tugs your puffed-up folds just barely enough to the side so that he could slip in the knobbly ends of a second finger. “-take it, my baby.”
It’s like you were made to take it.
Your elastic hole snagging on the ridges of his slender fingers, you throw your head back and moan at the sudden impact of Choso pursing his pretty pink lips and spitting on your pussy.
“Y-you know what else the head of the Choso clan can control?”
Just about the longest sentence his heat-filled mind has managed so far, he’s snagging the caps of his nail polish-chipped fingertips into the side of your walls and spreeading your cunt apart to let his pearly glob of saliva slither inside.
Immediately making you feel hypnotized, making you feel as if you were sweltering.
Oh, shit.
The realization makes your head lift off of your dampened pillows- he controls blood and…
He has the audacity to grin when the slimy ribbon of his saliva stirs in circles ‘round and ‘round your snug channel. Controlled. Filthy.
Watching your every minute squirm with bated breath, Choso nestles that droplet against your tenderest weeping orifices. Shocked. Ready. Like a wolf stumbling upon resh blood he’s breathing—“There”
Something in him twitches.
Something in him awakens, hips grinding against the bed.
And then you’re watching Choso’s nosebridge tattoo deepen, you’re watching him lazily flicker his pinkish tongue over the perked nub of your clit while his fingers were ravaging you from the inside out. He wanted to ruin you.
He was whacking his cold metallic rings against the gummy insides of your cunt and hoping that it bruised. Carving a cute lil’ ‘C’ right at the edge of your g-spot where you needed him the most, his high cheekbones flush. “Can control this. You. Her.”
Quirking the wide end of his index against your sweetest spot, Choso stuffs a third finger and lets all three rounded curves treat your g-spot like a bullseye. Probin’ so deep with their frigid designs into your every nook and cranny, Choso elbows your thighs open once the pressure makes you thrash.
You’re bucking off of the silken sheets, your slick-plastered thighs smushing each side of his handsome cheeks. “There- o-ohhh my god k-keep going-”
“Th-there.” Choso’s smiling. Something feral. “There- there- there.” Hit after hit, he’s sticking his maw against your slit and makin’ out with your sappy lips with a dopey smile. Unfocused. Throat relaxing to let the miry wads of your sweet, sweet sap flood his tastebuds.
They’re damn near sizzling as they stick to your puckering hole as if made of adhesive, slashes of his refined tongue making your cunt sing almost as much as your voice box was. “F-fuck, m’not gonna last, Cho—”
He’d noticed - that sixth, sensual sense of his cursed energy that was making him scour your walls with his curvaceous digits. That primal sense in him.
And that’s all he needed to hear.
The ringed bands of his rings spanking your g-spot like he was maddened, lips wrapped so hard as he sucks on your throbbing clit that they’re starting to ache.
More.
More more more- he needed fucking more of you before you’re cumming all over his face. And ah- how much more would you drench his snogging mouth when you reach your high?
Choso unfastens his jaw all wiiide and lets your slobbering drags push against his chin. Pushed so nose-deep between your twitching thighs that you can barely even understand him. “Cum.”
“Please—” You’re whimpering out shrilly, fucking music in his ears that makes him spread his meaty thighs apart and push his aching erection into the mattress. “Cho— I’m gonna mmm- m’gonna-”
You don’t get to finish your sentence before Choso’s finishing you off.
With a few more vulgar, sloppy strokes that set your teeth on edge. Your roommate doesn’t care for any method, he doesn’t care for any technique because he’s lavishing his velvety mouth everywhere.
From your pulsating clit, to the gasping circle of your entrance, to right past where three of his lengthy fingers were already filling you up because Choso just couldn’t get enough. And he’s laying his craned neck out across one of your trembling thighs, mouth burning with the cloying taste of you while you cum and cum harder than any of your toys have ever made you.
“I-it feels so…” Words fail you, and your hands stay firmly wrapped through the valleys of his sweaty scalp for dear life. “-so- nghhh- can’t even d-do anything.”
It was devastating- your vision splotchy with white, toes curling. And the half-curse was so plowed between your pert pussylips that he couldn’t even rear himself back to moan.
Letting out each moistened ‘fuck’ and ‘oh’ into your gushing pussy.
Blinded, it’s the only thing he can do to let your rose-shaped insides clench around his dexterous muscle. A sweet lil’ ba-dump–! that matched in carnal synchronization with the beat of your rapid heart, and Choso’s counting about twelve before he finally feels your high bating.
“No.” He grunts out instantly, eyes widening. Panicked. With a grope to the left side of your waist, Choso latches on a death grip and immediately pulls your restless hips back onto his mouth. Lips wobbling, “No no no no- come back.”
Yelping, “Shit m’so- hck! sensitive, Choso.” Even the slightest pinch of his coral pink lips right over your clit left you seeing stars.
But he didn’t listen.
He didn’t care.
He’s pushin’ his tongue back between your wet slit with a growl and eyeing how it makes you shudder. “Can’t-” Laughing - laughing - Choso alternates between bumping his rounded index against your g-spot and stretching out his rubbery tongue to lap at your walls.
Smack after smack every time he flaps his lips, all dangling with gleaming streaks of your hot orgasm. He’s trying to get you to cum once more, but he’s too impatient.
Too needy for it that all he can do is slash his tongue across your sweetest spots and watch as it only edges you until you’re all dizzy. Sniffing your pussy like you’re his favorite scent, “Can’t fucking stop.”
“Want- ngh! want you—” You’re keening, pushing on the perspiration-sprayed surface of his forehead to no avail. Choso only manhandles your body to glue his lips to yours even further, “Want your cock.”
“H-huh?”
For the first time, your roommate lifts his head from the sinful heaven between your legs with a loud plop! It’s the most lecherous noise, and the only thing wetter than that sound was how wet Choso was.
He’s dripping with syrupy slick from the apples of his high cheekbones down to his sharp jaw, beaded drops of slick hitting your thighs with a pitter-patter. He was flushed. Pheromones burning. Slightly shivering.
And it looked like the very second you opened your mouth - not even from the sound of your voice, just the mere notion of it - Choso’s nose scrunches and he flinches. “Wan’ your cock…”
“O-oh.”
Oh.
Oh.
You were done for.
You were absolutely and completely done for- because no sooner are the words out of your mouth that your snug pussy walls are left empty n’ hollow. Void of when he’s dragging his fingers back, making sure to leave a rovering little caress as he pulls out with a soppy slurp!
And then he’s slouching over you, he’s bending you.
Fully clothed and yet it’s like his heat-melted mind doesn’t even register that, Choso’s holdin’ your dangling ankles spread open while he grinds his swollen, aching cock against your core and groans.
“Fuck- fuck-”
He was so fucking hard, and your pussy had felt so damn tight around his tongue.
Just once. Twice- Choso ruts between your legs like an animal before he’s fumbling for the silvery latch of his belt. Unfreezing, you’re finally helping his dazed fingers through it- whining as you tug on his off-white undershirt, “Take it- off.”
Moaning- he thinks he’s going to die if he doesn’t listen to every word you say. “Please.”
It’s like each sound of your needy voice only makes his weight cock sag further, so it’s such a relief when he’s shoving the rest of his trousers down and letting his red, bulbous tip swab his abs with a stripe of glittering pre.
You only get a flash of Choso’s cock - rock-fucking-hard, engorged, looking so painful as his lengthy shaft hangs between his pale legs. The mushroomed tip of his cock was burnin’ red and weeping, and- was that- a shiny silver piercing right next to his orifice?
Like a pretty pink lollipop that you wanted to reach out and-
“Later.”
And then he’s pushing in.
Then he’s letting his ballooned-up shaft twitch primally at the noise of your sweet, sweet voice, before spreading his meaty thighs and pushing between your tight, glistening cunt.
“I know-” He’s rasping out, two of his veiny forearms planting underneath your legs to lift them bonelessly onto his shoulders. Ankles hitting his back muscles, “I know I know I know- fuck!”
Nearly screaming at the way your cozy hole was just too small for his pierced tip, resisting the way Choso fits the very reddened point of his cock between your folds and pushes and pushes. Ruts. “O-oh my goddd- nghhh- s’sooo biggg–!”
But your adorable huffing and puffing was only making every ounce of blood pound to his aching cock and make it even bigger.
Tightly pushing against the rubbery outer edge of your pussy, your pussylips get smeared apart sooo fucking widely by his rigid circumference.
And no matter how much you’re thrashing and mewling, Choso only tugs apart your cunt with a thumbing of his ringed digit. Deeper, fitting just an inch.
He gasps- he whines. Just so desperate, and you’re hypnotized by both that ecstatic look on his face to the sweetened, humid atmosphere.
“Cho! O-oh my god s’not gonna mmm- fit-”
“No.” Choso repeats it like a mantra, and he’s begging with those hooded chestnut eyes of his. Probing your gaze with his dilated pupils, heels digging into your rickety mattress, the head of his swollen shaft squeezed where he was bullying inside. “No no no no- hafta take it. You need to, my baby.”
Long lashes shuttering, you swear you see Choso’s eyeliner run with tears when he makes your pussy gulp down a single solid few inches.
His cock so fucking big that just this slightest swallowed measurement made you feel a round bruise at your throat, your mouth overflooding with heated saliva. “Need to take it inside just-”
Babbling, Choso glues his clammy palms upon either side of your birthing hips and bends you in half.
All the way until the globes of your ass nearly weren’t touching the bed, all the way until he’s pressuring you with the weight of his muscular body and holding you still whilst you take him in deeper.
In a mating press.
And give him an inch, he’ll take a mile.
“Fuh-fuuuuck!” Because Choso was thrusting, not even waiting - he couldn’t. Your gooey pussy was just so soft and warm around his barreling girth that it was driving him wild. “You’re just soooo—”
“Inside. Inside.”
“What if I can’t fit-”
“I’ll make it fit.”
He’s holding onto your mounds of flesh like it would stop him from losing control, thighs shivering at his inner quads once he’s punishing your squelching cunt with half-ruts. Bucks. Humps like an animal all just to fit and fit his swollen, red cock inside.
Eyes dazed, mouth slack.
Choso’s already drilling into you, whacking your bubblegum insides with everything he could fit.
From the geysering divot homed on the middle of his tip to just where one of his prominent veins was tickling your outer folds. His Prince Albert’s was so cold where he’s slimy mazing along your textured walls, “Tight-” He dares to let one of his hands caress your tummy, pushing down to feel himself. “Fucking tight.”
Struggling, and so when Choso’s finally tugging further on your dewy slick cunt to sheath in more more more- all he can do is stutter his breath to a labored hold and cum. Just by bottoming out.
Your eyes widen, “Did you just-”
“I-inside.” Choso croaks out, strained. Raw groans hatching, he presses down on your body with his toned upper strength and keeps you there as he’s pumping you full.
It’s so much of his thick, ribbony white sap splashing ‘round that you’re wondering whether your puffy hole was flooding already.
Not that Choso would ever let you- no, his familiar ringed thumb spanks down on your slit and makes sure that not even one ivory drop leaks out.
Driving and driving every vein-covered inch in half-thrusts that leave your knees weak, “Inside.” He’s panting like he was feverish, brown irises murky. So hot inside of you with all his syrup, he’d just bottomed out and he was still planting his feet flat on the bedsprings to maze his glistening cock further.
Octaves higher, cracked. He’s in disbelief when he’s sliding his globular piercing in a straight line down your cervix, “Inside.”
“Mhmmm– all inside, Choso.” You’re managing to strangle out, your twitchy fingertips reaching up to push away a few strands of his soft bangs from his sweaty forehead. “All better now?”
You’ve no idea what had gotten into him today, but anything to help your hot half-curse roommate-
“All better?”
It’s posed as a question, but Choso wasn’t looking for an answer.
He’s poring down at you with bulging eyeballs, gaze smudged with eyeliner. “All…better?” Before letting out a sudden, strained bark of laughter.
And before you know it, Choso’s curling the tips of his fingers around your throat and grabbing you to halt in your journey to squirm away. Squealing, you let yourself be dragged down to hit his hard pelvis with a spank.
Leaning down, down, down every inch that he’s closing in the scorching distance between you two made your cum-glazed pussy let off a talkative slurp! “All better.”
“Wh- oh!”
He doesn’t let you speak.
He doesn’t even let you breathe before ramming into you with all the vein-patterned, roaming length of his girth. “All better?” Choso echoes breathlessly, “You- think- I’m all better?”
As you whine, the headlock of his palm tugs your lolling scalp forwards to stare back up at him. Holding the deepest, most lecherous eye contact with you as he sliiiides his zig-zagging veins against the roof of your pussy.
Spit flying, Choso crashes his maw into your open mouth. “Do I look fucking better?”
Oh.
That’s when it finally hits you- that short, hastened paragraph you’d skimmed over in your book on cursed - Choso was in heat.
“P-please!” It was almost comical the way he had you mewling all stupidly on his cock, your heart-eyed pupils swirlin’ inside of your eyes with each poke into the bottom of your pussy. His stout, frigidly pierced tip furiously thumping away, “Feels so good, Cho- can feel you all the way ngh- here.”
And he was not letting you go.
Choso looked like he was losing his sanity when you’re mindlessly tracing a hand up the valley of your tits, touching your throat.
“Th-there, huh?” He questions, dryly. With a final swab of his bulging length where you were most sensitive, he’s suckin’ on your quivering lower lip with a hum. “You know I ngh- respect you, right, my baby? Riiight–?”
Confused, you’re nodding—“Yes?”
“Good.”
Because Choso wasn’t going to fuck you like it.
He’s departing his hoarse breath in gusts, letting out a barely-audible little–”Flowing Red Scale: Stack.”
The jujutsu technique to increase speed. Endurance.
Before the air around the two of you tightens with electricity, with every atom around the two of you coating with a layer of cursed energy. Something so rabid and desperate that seeps through Choso’s body like he almost wasn’t in control, coating the ends of his upright erection when he’s bucking.
“There-” The rounded circle of his piercing is plowing you open like a searchlight, mazing your velvety walls in a lil’ zig-zag. The underside of his shaft sticks to you like a second skin, striking your g-spot dead on. “-there.”
Rovering his hand right on top of the sultry rounded bulge he was pounding away into you, “M’here.”
He was there right inside of you and he was everywhere.
Weighing in on the splotch of your nerved walls, pushing away the creamy white layer of seed on top of your lips so that he could see himself being sucked in even deeper. “Me me me me-”
“O-oh please!” You scream out in time with the creaking racket of your aged bedcoils, it was making the most protesting noises as he bucks his hips deeper. Hands clawing across his deltoids—his chilling piercing whacks your g-spot and you can only reach for the wooden headboard with a babble.
“No- no no come back-” Choso’s free hand creeps from your cute tummy bulge to claw at your scalp, pushing you down. Pulling you all the way down, “No running.”
No running.
Again and again and again.
Choso’s got a hold on your head, a knee trapping your thigh. Pinning you down so that he can smack his tensed core down on your front and leave your heated flesh stinging.
“No running no running no- hah! You’re gonna be mine, my baby–” Angrily, he swats your partly-opened lips with a great dollop of spit, feeling the sultry trickle swirl it’s way circlin’ your mouth.
The entrapping hand on your head tightens like a vice and you squeak something unintelligible, something that makes his pinkish cockhead swerve and his body heave with a great, visceral shudder.
“What was- hah- what was that, my baby?”
“Ch-Choso–!” Comes out your shrilling calls, “More.”
And he almost stops. He almost freezes—“What?”
“More!”
“M-more?” Choso can only repeat through a harrowed gasp, letting his heavy, hard cock slide niiiice and easy between your legs. Echoing, “More.” And it’s like he’s agonizingly fucking you slow n’ steady- hard and rough.
Alternating, it’s hard to keep himself in check.
Hard to even force himself into a constant sloppy cadence when you’re looking up at him like that.
Begging for him, your mouth unfastens open at the way Choso’s pretty hazel eyes only seem to glow…animalistically. A cursed, powerful tinge taking over his gaze, claws sharpening, body bulging with even more sexy muscles as if that was possible.
He was almost transforming in front of your very eyes and the only thing you can do is throw your oversaturated head back and take it.
“More.”
Choso whacks his bulbous, cold Prince Albert’s against the side of your g-spot and hopes that pretty area of your cunt remembers it. Bruising you.
Your thighs on his shoulders, his dick shoveling into tender orifices inside of you that no one’s ever reached before. Your cute roommate’s damn near laughing himself hoarse whilst moaning away that singular syllable you’d uttered out. “More- more. What the fuck- more.”
“Fuck—” Your doughy heels dig in eagerly where his back muscles were rippling, lungs filling with all his heated scent. “M’gettin’ so ngh- sensitive, Cho.”
But it’s not like he could hear you.
Choso Kamo knew your lips were moving, but he was too deeply-stuffed inside your dripping wet cunt to even pretend to listen. All he could think as he shuffles all his fat, roaming inches inside, creaming out a generous helping of buttery pre, was that he wanted to make your gorgeous mouth fall into an oh! of pleasure.
Fuck, talking- he’s fucking you like he’s trying to make sure that you couldn’t.
Merciless thrust after thrust, the power clinging onto the air around you two was becoming stifling.
“More” Choso utters, two of his ringed fingers skimming your bulged folds open and kissin’ your clit with a sweet hello. “More.” Before pinching, harder. Sloppier. His bulbously swollen red erection stirs your insides like he’s trying to melt his body onto yours, “Tight lil’ hole can’t g-get enough of me- she wants more-”
Oh.
Oh–
You weren’t the only one caught off guard by just how ragged Choso was becoming - just how ragged his ruthless hips were becoming. Because with only one, two, three precise glides of his rotund cockhead stirrin’ your g-spot, your poor pussy is bullied into a second orgasm.
You see white.
Surprised. Hitting you like four semi-trucks, all you can do is gnaw your lolling maw down on the tempting curve of his shoulder and cum.
“O-oh, my baby.” Choso whispers out from above, gasping once he’s registering your high. Your bite- marking him up in a way that makes his cursed heat flare.
Cumming.
Cumming and cumming so hard that your roommate’s feeling his heavy breeder balls drain with each sploshing wire of sap being pumped into you.
You hear him grunt over n’ over through your popped eardrums, “My baby-” Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! goes the slap of his cum-glazed balls digging into the backs of your ass. And you swear you feel his frigid piercing draw out a loooong ‘C’ on your sponged cervix, “My baby my baby my baby- alll…”
Dazed, you’re watching when his ringed hand lets go of your head to caress your tummy bulge. Now only inflated further with his knotted wads of cum, “-here.”
Oh…
He didn’t just mean that you were his baby- he meant that he was going to fuck a baby into you.
And that’s exactly how he’s milking you through your high, letting the sparks of your bliss overtake you as his driveling cock fucks away lazily. Sensually rubbin’ the curve of his piercing over your g-spot to overstimulate you.
“Never f-felt this good, Cho–!” Your criss-crossed eyes scrunch with a few warm tears, feeling the gooey puddle of white stagnant below you.
He reels his plump girth back just the slightest smidge and watches as a torrent of sap splashes out wetly.
Choso only grins, “S’my first time-” Planting a lingering smooch over your gaped lips. “My first kiss. My first…”
And absolutely nothing - nothing - could’ve prepared you for the word that attaches to the tail-end of his groaned sentence.
“-mate.”
His only mate. His one and only.
And he was groping the underside of your ass cheeks to make sure that his loving mate wasn’t squirming away. Getting a good handhold for your pretty, pliant body to be held up and dragged backwards.
Choso wasn’t in the right headspace to even pretend he was pushin’ you into a cute mating pressing right now.
Only melting the ridges of each chiseled ab into your front, glissading easily with the sheen of his perspiration.
Choso creeps his bruised, red lips right up to your ear.
“And m’not letting you walk out of this hah- bed not pregnant.” As if struck by the sudden thought, he rolls his sloppy cock between your saturated pussylips once more and grunts. Dark eyes sliiiding backwards, brows scrunching with need. “A-actually- m’not letting you walk at all.”
Gasping, “Not walking- th-that means…”
It’s all you can get out before the cursed energy sticking to your bodies heightens twofold.
And Choso gets harder. Choso’s pushing you down.
Choso cups your spilling pussy to smear apart your bloated folds, slimily weaving his rounded mushroom tip to circle back to your entrance and push—
“More.”
Your tongue feels sticky with all the pheromones of his saccharine heat, “M-more?”
“Gonna fuck you more.” Seemingly able to utter more than just three words now, “Fill you up more.” Shaking - both his voice and his thighs pushing you into missionary now. “Get- get you pregnant more.”
Blood manipulation to make his prolonged, split-ended shaft harder. Reverse cursed technique to make sure you two don't break bones.
But neither of you can stop the way his creaking bed frame shatters.
And Choso doesn’t care- his knee hikes further to keep your legs open. Fist pumping the fattened excess of his ravaged cock furiously to pump n’ pump himself to a merciless hardness. He’s hissing as his cursed energy forces every ounce of blood in his sparking mind to rush to his plummy, weeping crown.
“I-is this even safe, Cho–?” You’re whining, trying to nudge yourself to some sort of rationality before Choso completely ruined you all over again.
“Safe? Safe?” He’s giggling out, hissing between your parted lips. “Who knows…?”
The last thing you’re managing to hear before his slender hips snap forwards and meet your pussylips with a tender few strings of even more cum. Pouring out a thick paste that damn near covers the slope of your cunt an opaque ivory, “I don’t know- I have no idea- a-all m’gonna do s’fuck you–”
Just at that moment your pussy lets out a sappy few squelches as he shovels inside and Choso’s nodding.
“Y-yeeees, my baby.” Slobber trickles down either side of his lips and marks him all glittering, the round orb of his piercing cleaning off your pussy of seed. “All pregnant. A-all mine. All pregnant.”
Choso’s still so damn big- growing even bigger thanks to his jujutsu that every rummaging inch makes him slick your skin with cum. Creaming you. Milking himself.
Bulging cock so layered with jujutsu that it almost zaps the inside of your silky smooth cunt like a vibrator to have him pummeling you deeply.
The more he’s pounding away like he’s crazed, the more and more he does become crazed. Rasping tone breathless, gone. “Yes- yes yes yes tha’s right-” He’s sounding out, trekking a hand down to thumb over your jiggling cum-inflated tummy bulge. “Pregnant. Pregnant pregnant- pregnant–”
“S-slow down Cho, or m’gonna—ngh! again.” You wail, hips bucking up shallowly - just about all you can manage right now, but the mere idea has Choso breathing all labored.
Hands twisting on the lecherous nub of your clit, “Yeah- yeahhh, mama’s gotta cum.” He’s reciting off- it wasn’t just the heat, it was some second primal nature that made him want to make that drenched pussy of yours squeeze his cock to death.
And fuck, was that instinct strong.
Because Choso’s hitting your deep cunt with gushing whacks, angling his pelvis just right to curl the left-leaning spheroid of his cockhead against your g-spot and-
“Cum- cum. Cum.”
When you do, it’s in carnal unison with him. For the nth time this night.
So hard that the two of you can only throw your heads back and moan—
Long, stringy ribbons of sap entering your filthy hole right in time with each peak of your high. You count one, two, three- four.
“Cum—ing.” Your voice cracks, eyes rolling. Nails clawing fresh crimson marks down his pale shoulder blades, ones that the man himself smells and drools at. Yeah- all he wanted in his heated haze was for you to ruin him. “Choso- oh.”
“S’my name- what’s this say?”
You yelp, feeling him guide his pierced cocktip to swab your most tender orifices. Grunting- “Tell me. Spell.”
That fucking animal inside of his cursed body was makin’ him tease your bruised and battered cervix with an outlined ‘C’, then an ‘H’, and then an ‘O’-‘S’ -‘O’.
C-H-O-S-O
C-H-O-S-O
C-H-O-S-O
You think you might be cumming again, you think you might be grinding your hips back down without even thinking to help him spell out his name. “Choso- Choso! Cho—!” Mindlessly whining and whining that very word whilst your orgasm hits you like a freight train.
And Choso knew it was coming- oh, he saw.
The lecherous part of his cursed technique growing in tune with your body enough that he’s sensing the waves of your impending bliss, and gifing your pussy with a rigid thrash against your g-spot that leaves you squirting.
Dampened, streaming gushes of sap coat Choso’s shaft, and it’s a damn miracle that he’s able to stop himself from pulling out right now just to taste the wetness of your dewy soft walls as you ride him through your high. His own orgasm nothing more than numerous dry spurts of white liquid when he’s fucking you even sloppier.
Still fucking you when he’s muttering the incantation underneath his breath for his blood manipulation technique sugring down to his fattening girth. Overstimulated. Overworked.
Gasping, something wet hits your shoulder and it takes you every shred of will in your body to wrench your teary lashes open and look. Only to realize that Choso Kamo was crying.
Whimpering, sucking himself dry on you.
You didn’t know who was more drunken as he’s lazily dragging his veiny cock along your channel in a third- fourth? round. “I finally have- have you in my ngh- bed and-” Toying the flared edge of his mushroom tip right where your g-spot was, back n’ forth, back n’ forth. He makes you squeeze down on the rounded swelling at his hilt, “-you think m’letting you go that easy?”
Teeth on edge, bangs sweat-stuck, eyeliner running.
Heavy balls tightening.
Before you can even register it, Choso has you face-planted into the pillows - his hand at the base of your arched spine, cock taking you from behind, foot firmly seated on top of your head.
And he’s collapsing his body down onto yours and pushing, pushing, pushing.
So hard that you think you hear a faint pop!
“N-no breaking bones…” Comes out his throaty tut, followed by the cool breeze of even more reverse cursed energy bleeding into your bones. The expanse of his heated skin buzzing with electricity, he almost made you bolt to the touch.
And suddenly this mean position on all fours doesn’t feel so bad anymore-
Finishing off, “Need the f-future mother of my kids safe.” You can only drench his silky pink pillowcase with pure saliva and tears, whimpering when he dabs a finger over a dribbling wad of cum that’d started to spray from your folds.
Delicately massaging over your overstimulated slope, Choso brings his glazed fingertip over to stick to the ring finger on your left hand and draw. A cute lil’ wedding band.
“A…proposal?” You’re questioning, head cocked where you’re all laid out prettily on top of the cushy surface.
And maybe it’s by the fourth round when the two of you can barely even speak, and the massage of his soaked chocolate happy trail had started irritating the cheeks of your ass. Maybe it’s by the fifth when it’s barely even fucking and more so Choso making sure that his high leaves him dry, nothing but a pearly droplet of seed escaping his strawberry divot before he’s pinning you down to the mattress.
Maybe it’s by the sixth when he’s laying you side by side and gluing his slobbery mouth against yours while his raw, red cock lazily gyrates inside of your sensitive walls.
Plugged up with a swollen girth homed at the base of his red shaft that you’re slowly realizing is his wide knot so that all he can do is swirl n’ fill each slick, creamy crevice. Not having the strength to thrust even with his use of reverse cursed energy.
“You’re mine now.” It’s the last thing you hear as the two of you are on the precipice of passing out. Your bed shattered. Your apartment lights charred with the overuse of jujutsu.
Sending out a wave of cursed energy strong enough that it’s a wonder sorcerers aren’t knocking down your door - and yet, Choso still wouldn’t be able to stop his hips.
His sharp canines sink into the sweaty crook of your neck, much like yours had on his all those hours and hours ago. Yet, something about his bite felt…animalistically permanent.
Like his infamously venomous technique was flowing through you and marking you. Though, you barely even feel the sting with his reverse cursed technique- not out of his control.
Through a crack of your tear-dewed eyelids, you’re taking in with awe at the way that your dear half-curse roommate’s nosebridge tattoo only grows wider. Stronger. Suddenly matching with a new one that’d started to formulate at the base of his soft, mahogany happy trail - like an incubus tattoo.
He was all yours now.
Length throbbing harder as his tastebuds sizzle with your crimson, “Forever.” Choso takes oooone good look at you with loving, heart-shaped eyes. And you wonder whether his heat was finally, finally-
Before he’s inhaling your saccharine sweet scent, and you watch in real time as Choso’s molten peripherals dilate. Wide. Panting. Cock twitching. “O-oh, my baby, think m’getting…hard again.”
A/N. Mwahaha summer is coming up so I simply had to.
❝You grew up behind locked doors—kept “safe” until safety started to look like a cage.
One night, something inside you snapped, and the world answered with sirens, courtrooms, and an iron-lit ward that promised treatment but fed on fear. That’s where you met him.
Sukuna—another monster on paper, another lifer with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He watched you like he recognized the shape of your loneliness. Like he’d been waiting. And when the ward turned bloody, when the gates cracked open for a moment too long, he took your hand and didn’t let go.
Now living in the aftermath—moving country to country, carrying secrets like loaded guns.
Because what escaped with them wasn’t just love.
It was something darker.❞
chapter one. The Day the World Went Quiet
chapter two. Paper Hearts, Iron Hands
chapter three. The Shape of a Door
chapter four. Saltwater Lullaby
chapter five. A Small Light in the Sink
chapter six. The Heat of a Living Thing
chapter seven. Bruises Like Pressed Flowers
chapter eight. A Doorway Full of Ghosts
chapter nine. Wildflowers & Witnesses
chapter ten. The Quiet Shift
chapter eleven. The Quiet Pact of Altitude
chapter twelve. Paperwork and Heartbeats
chapter thirteen. Any Day Now
chapter fourteen. Healing and Peace
chapter fifteen. Saturday Light
chapter sixteen. The Quiet That Smiles Back
chapter seventeen. The Air Before the Door Opens
Chapter 2 comes out tomorrow and then going forward. It will come out every Thursday! I do apologize if I don’t add you to the master list, it will be coming out every Thursday at 7 PM if I miss you!!
I am in school full-time while working so sometimes I can’t add everyone. Love you guys🤍
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
A faint flush crept across Choso's pale cheeks at being called cute, his brow furrowing slightly in that way it did when he was flustered. Despite being buried inside you, making love to you with the explicit goal of getting you pregnant, somehow that simple word affected him more.
"I'm not cute," he muttered, but there was no real bite to it. His hips continued their steady, deep rhythm as his thumb traced circles on the back of your hand. "And yes. I promise. I don't break my promises."
He shifted the angle slightly, grinding against that spot inside you that made your toes curl, his dark eyes never leaving yours.
“I protected my brothers for over a century. I'll protect you and our child for eternity if I have to."
There was absolute conviction in his voice, that rare intensity breaking through his usual monotone. His free hand slid down your body to your clit again, rubbing slow circles that matched his thrusts.
“Now stop calling me cute and focus on what I'm doing to you,"
he commanded softly, though the corner of his mouth twitched slightly—the closest thing to a smile you'd seen from him.
"Want to feel you come again. Want to fill you up properly this time”.
“Whatever you say, my Cutie.” You say as you kiss Choso on the lips.
"Stubborn," he murmured against your lips, but there was something almost fond in his tone despite himself. His fingers on your clit pressed more firmly, circling with increased purpose.
"Fine. Call me whatever you want. Just... keep saying my name like you did before." His pace picked up gradually, that deep, purposeful rhythm becoming more insistent. The hand holding yours squeezed tighter as he felt himself getting closer, his control wavering again. His dark eyes were half-lidded but locked onto yours, watching every expression that crossed your face.
"Getting close again," he admitted roughly, his voice strained. "Want you to come with me this time. Want to feel you squeezing me when I fill you up." His words were punctuated by particularly deep thrusts, his pelvis grinding against you.
"Gonna give you everything. Make sure it takes." Despite his usual stoicism, there was something almost vulnerable in how he looked at you now—like you were the most precious thing in his world.
“mmm-fuck cho, it feels so good, you’re doing so good baby, I-I’m gonna cum” Your words sent a shudder through Choso's entire body, his grip on your hand becoming almost painful as his movements became more urgent. His fingers worked your clit with desperate precision, his dark eyes boring into yours with an intensity that was almost overwhelming.
“That's it, that's it," he panted, his voice breaking slightly. "Cum for me. Want to feel it. Need to feel you." His thrusts became erratic, harder, as he felt his own release building to an unbearable peak. The sound of your bodies joining filled the room, wet and obscene, mixing with his ragged breathing and your moans. “Gonna fill you so deep. Gonna—fuck!—“.
When your walls clenched around him, Choso's composure shattered completely. He buried himself as deep as physically possible, his whole body going rigid as he came with a guttural groan that sounded almost pained. You could feel him pulsing inside you, filling you with rope after rope of his release.
"I love you," he gasped out, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you flush against him as aftershocks wracked his body. "I love you so much." He stayed buried inside you, holding you tight, his face pressed into the crook of your neck as he trembled.
“I love you so much more cho.”, you say as you kiss him passionately, “My Kamo”, you kiss him again but this time on the forehead.
Choso's breath caught at the possessive words, and you felt him twitch inside you despite having just finished. His arms tightened around you, holding you like you might disappear if he let go. When he pulled back to look at you, his dark eyes were soft in a way you'd never seen before—vulnerable and open. "Your Kamo," he repeated quietly, testing the words. His hand came up to cup your face, thumb brushing across your cheek. "I like that. Means you're mine too." He shifted slightly, still buried inside you, making sure nothing spilled out. His hand moved back down to rest on your lower stomach, that same reverent gesture from before.
"Should probably stay like this for a while. To... make sure it takes." There was a hint of uncertainty in his voice, like he wasn't entirely sure of the logistics but was determined anyway.
He pressed a surprisingly tender kiss to your forehead, then your nose, then your lips—each one soft and deliberate. "Never thought I'd have this. A family of my own, not just my brothers." His voice was barely above a whisper. "You've given me something I didn't know I could want."
“Mhm, you know I could have your last name too. Maybe one day make me your wife, my love?”
Choso went completely still, his dark eyes widening in genuine shock. For a moment he just stared at you, processing your words like his brain had short-circuited. His hand on your stomach trembled slightly.
"Wife?" The word came out barely audible, like he was afraid saying it too loud might make the possibility disappear. "You'd want to marry me? Take my name?"
His thumb traced absent patterns on your skin as he seemed to struggle with the intensity of emotion crossing his usually impassive face. When he finally spoke again, his voice was rough, thick with feeling he didn't know how to express. "(Y/N) Kamo." He tested the name, and something fierce and possessive flashed in his eyes. "Yes. One day soon. I'll make you my wife."
He pulled out slowly, only to immediately gather you up and position you on his lap, holding you close to his chest. His hand cupped the back of your head protectively. "I don't know how to do any of this—marriage, family, being... normal. But I'll figure it out. For you. For our future."
He pressed his lips to your temple, keeping you tucked against him. "My wife. Mother of my children. Mine." Each word was spoken with quiet conviction, like he was making sacred vows.
“Don’t rush it my love, but yes you’ll figure it out, I’ll be here. I won’t leave your side.”.
Something in Choso's expression softened even further at your reassurance, and he exhaled slowly like he'd been holding his breath. He shifted you more comfortably in his lap, one arm wrapped securely around your waist while his other hand continued its gentle stroking along your spine.
"Thank you," he murmured against your hair, his voice carrying a vulnerability that was becoming less rare around you. "For being patient with me. For... all of this."
He was quiet for a moment, just holding you, before speaking again. "My brothers are going to lose their minds when they find out. Especially Yuji." There was almost a hint of amusement in his tone, though his expression remained mostly neutral. "They've never seen me with anyone. Didn't think they ever would."
His hand moved to rest on your stomach again, that protective gesture already becoming habitual. "Should probably get you cleaned up soon. And get some actual rest." Despite his words, he made no move to let you go, seemingly content to keep you close. "Unless... you want to go again. Make absolutely sure." His voice dropped lower on those last words, and you could feel him already starting to harden again beneath you.
“It’ll take baby don’t worry, let’s just sleep like this, maybe we can go again after I just want you right now.”
Choso nodded slowly, his body finally relaxing completely at your words. He shifted carefully, laying back on the couch and pulling you down with him so you were draped across his chest. One arm wrapped protectively around your waist while his other hand stayed on your stomach, like he couldn't stop touching where his child might already be growing.
"Alright," he murmured, his voice already getting heavy with exhaustion. The events of the night had clearly taken their toll, and combined with his perpetual tiredness, sleep was pulling at him hard.
"Stay close. Don't want you falling off."
He grabbed the throw blanket from the back of the couch with minimal effort, draping it over both of you. His fingers traced lazy patterns on your back as his breathing began to even out. "I love you," he whispered, the words coming easier now, less strained. "My Love."
Within minutes his chest was rising and falling in the steady rhythm of sleep, but even unconscious his grip on you didn't loosen. His face, usually set in tired irritation or careful blankness, looked peaceful—younger somehow. The eye bags were still there, the dark stripe across his nose prominent, but there was a softness to his features you rarely got to see.
Choso's breath hitched at your words, and for the first time since you'd met him, you saw his eyes actually glisten with emotion. His usually impassive face crumbled slightly, a vulnerability you'd never witnessed before breaking through his stoic exterior. His hand on your stomach pressed firmer, almost possessive.
"You... you'd really want that? With me?" His voice was barely above a whisper, rough with emotion he didn't know how to process. "Even knowing what I am? What they might inherit?"
He captured your lips in a kiss that was entirely different from before—tender, almost desperate, like he was trying to convey everything he couldn't put into words. When he pulled back, his dark eyes were blazing with something fierce and protective.
"Then I'll give you one," he said, his voice dropping to that rough growl again as his hips shifted, positioning himself at your entrance once more. "I'll keep fucking you until it takes. Fill you up over and over until you're carrying my child."
He pushed inside you again, slower this time but just as deep, his movements deliberate and purposeful. "Gonna make you a mother. Gonna watch you swell with our baby." His hand remained on your stomach as he began to move, almost reverent despite the raw desire in his voice.
When you ask Choso to Cum inside you for the first time.
Your words broke something in him. Choso's grip on your hair tightened as he buried himself as deep as possible, his hips grinding against your ass. The fingers on your clit worked faster, more desperately.
"Inside you," he repeated hoarsely, like he needed to hear it again. "Fuck—gonna fill you up. Gonna make you mine."
His thrusts became wild, uncontrolled, as he chased both your releases. You could feel him throbbing inside you, so close to the edge. His chest pressed against your back as he surrounded you completely, his breath hot against your neck.”Cum for me. Now. Please—I need to feel it."
The command in his voice combined with his fingers on your clit and the angle of his thrusts sent you over the edge. As your walls clenched around him, Choso let out a broken groan that sounded almost pained. His hips stuttered once, twice, before he buried himself to the hilt.
"Fuck—" His whole body went rigid as he came, spilling inside you with shuddering thrusts. His arms wrapped around you, holding you against him as he rode out his orgasm. "So good. So fucking good." His voice was barely a whisper against your skin, his body still trembling .
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
What goes on inside Virgin!Choso's mind when you cum on his face for the first time
18+ Im a choso whore
Fuck, what is this? Her taste it's everywhere, on my tongue, my lips, soaking into my skin like it's marking me. I can still feel her thighs crushing my head, that desperate clamp as she came undone, screaming my name. My name. Not some curse's echo, not a brother's shadow-just Cho. And those moans... they ripped something open inside me, something l've kept buried under centuries of nothing.
I'm hard, aching so bad it hurts, grinding against her like some animal. Never thought it'd be like this. Virgin, yeah 150 years of watching brothers die, half-curse blood keeping me numb, empty.
Emotionally void, they say. But her? She's flooding me. Wet, hot, clenching around my fingers like she needs me to fill the void instead. I made her come. Me. Clumsy licks, fingers fumbling, but she arched and shattered. For me.
Control's slipping. Always calm, laid-back, quiet anger simmering under the surface.
But now? Primal. Want to bury myself in her, feel that tightness swallow me whole.
Need it. Her hips under my hands, marked by my grip-mine. Brothers would laugh, or worry. Yuji... fuck, don't think about him.
This is selfish, raw. She's begging with her body, and I'm breaking.
Taste her on my kiss still. Sweet, salty, addictive. Push harder? Deeper? Show me, she said. I'll learn every gasp, every twitch.
No more void. Just her. Need to be inside now-claim it, feel her pulse around me till I break too. Please... gods, I'm begging inside. Don't stop this. Don't let it end.
MDNI 18+ cw: public but private, slight exhibitionism, slight dry humping, riding, p in v, unprotected ish, sub choso, crying, praise, slight mommy kink, he’s just pathetic really.
these were the comments choso kamo always got from his friends. but truly, having a really hot girlfriend was a full time job.
not that you were aware of it, but choso so was so scared of losing you, he would go so far out of his way just to keep you happy and interested. he would literally crawl in your footsteps kissing the ground you walked on if it was socially acceptable. handmade gifts, a new bouquet of flowers every two weeks, thoughtful dates, anything to make you smile. absolutely pathetically whipped.
you knew you weren’t going anywhere, but he didn’t care. he was a loser who bagged a baddie, he had to keep her satisfied.
as well as that full time job, choso kept a part time job at the old cinema near his apartment to keep up with your expenses. it’s not like you asked for your nails or hair done, he insisted…as long as he could help pick out the design or style (something grunge).
somehow, he managed to climb to the top of his job, becoming a supervisor. he wasn’t entirely sure how, maybe because he was the only sensible one out of his younger brother yuuji, ino, and panda who also worked there. worked is an overstatement—they played chubby bunny with popcorn.
being a supervisor meant keeping things in check when the manager wasn’t on shift. this included cleaning up the spat out popcorn from yuuji, and locking up, making sure no one tried to do the 24 hours in a cinema challenge.
when he was finally on a solo closing shift, he texted you to wear something cute for date night. he picked out your favourite movie (andrew garfield’s spiderman ofc), your favourite flowers, and waited for you at the cinema back entrance with a big box of popcorn. no wonder yuuji called him whipped.
whipped or not, nothing beat seeing those dimples pop out when you spotted him. you felt pure giddiness running through your veins, every single time you saw him. and people have the audacity to question why you fell in love with the emo quiet guy?
it was perfect. the whole cinema screen to yourself, snuggled up to choso who was paying no mind to the masked figure on the screen. he always outdid himself, even if it wasn’t an expensive date.
lazy eyes trailing the mini skirt and knee high boots you decided to fashion, running a pale finger up and down your thigh leaving a trail of goosebumps.
“i still don’t get it”.
“hm?” you glance over at him, mouth half full of sweet and salty popcorn.
“how i got so fucking lucky.” he mumbles, you swear your heart has actually just melted. it had been 4 years, and he still says shit that make those little butterflies flutter around your stomach.
you pepper his cheek with kisses, before turning his face towards you with your index finger, and placing a kiss on his plush lips.
“i’m the lucky one” you mumble into his mouth.
the kiss quickly grew heated as he grabs the back of your neck, pulling you impossibly closer. tongue battling tongue as you made out against the leather seats. the only sounds being web shooters, soft creaking, and even softer moans. he pulls you in by your waist, fiddling with your intricate waist beads.
you take the opportunity to climb into his lap, straddling him without breaking the messy kiss for a second. instinctively moving your clothed hips against his, feeling his soft gasps in your mouth is the best present he could ever get you.
the moment you break away for air, you’re met with the softest, dark eyes looking up at you as if you were oxygen herself. you smile softly before roooolling your hips excruciatingly slow, earning a needy whine from the emo boy. your mini skirt riding up slightly as you grinder against rough baggy jeans. his eyebrow and snake bite piercings glisten in the cinema’s soft light.
“please..”.
“please what cho?” you coo in that sweet voice ,that only made his cock twitch harder against your plush thigh.
“please just… ruin me baby”. he whispers unashamed, as he looks up at you with that pretty flush on his face.
before you both know it, your panties are pushed to the side, sinking your bare pussy oh-so slowly down his bare cock. you know your plan to ruin him is on track, when you hear a desperate, high pitched whine escape his pretty lips. his rings on his long fingers painfully digging into your ass as you ride him.
choso was watching you in absolute awe. he did it everytime. he was just so unsure on how you looked so beautiful even when you were flushed and slightly sweaty. he’s only snapped out of your trance when you lift your ass up slightly and slam his whole length deeeep into your gummy walls. the neediest, broken whimper escapes his lips, not getting any quieter when you pick up the pace.
“b-baaby— oh fuck! m’not g-gonna last- oh shit you feel so good.. you’re so pretty” he whines in a choked out sob.
so whipped.
“yeah? shit. you’re taking me sooo well cho”.
“i am?” he whines, brows all prettily furrowed.
“mhmmm, such a good boy for me”.
when feel his cock physically pulse the second you praise him, you slam down slightly harder. the slick sound of skin slapping bounces around the empty room, alongside the muffled moans and whimpers choso let out into your neck.
you loved riding him like this. his dick was so much bigger than those flings you had in your first year of uni. ayesha erotica wasn’t wrong. emo guys were fucking big.
“you feel so good— too good- fuck mommy i can’t—“ his face still buried in your face, leaving little sucks and bites when he wasn’t moaning.
he still needed to claim you in some way, even when he was the one getting claimed.
“you can take it pretty boy”.
his raging, sensitive tip kissed your cervix everytime he thrusted up to meet your pace, earning moans from you choso wished he could frame. you were squeezing him so tight, he could lose blood flow from your pussy and die with a smile.
“i need to mmph! pull out” he whimpers with a hint of panic in his tone.
“come inside”.
“w-what?! are we ready for a kid? i wanna marry yo—“
“m’on the pill cho” you giggle as you kiss him. the connection of your lips must’ve been the tipping point. the feeling of hot liquid fills your tight walls, causing you to spasm around his cock, squeezing it even tighter. hot breath enters your parted lips as he moans your name repeatedly like a mantra. it’s only when you pull back to look at him you notice his face is.. damp?
this man was crying.
he sniffs as he looks at you, before mumbling..
“thank you” in a wrecked, low voice.
you can’t help but smile at the sight. this 6 foot, emo, tattooed, peirced man, crying because of his girlfriends pussy. adorably pathetic.
you kiss away his salty tears, mumbling praises at how well he took it. all before he wraps his arms around your smaller waist, needing some post sex aftercare from you. you rest your cheek on his messy black locs, feeling his cock slightly soften inside of you.
he seriously needed to wife you up.
“you’re gonna have to delete that footage off the cinema’s cameras”. you speak into his hair.