🪽

“whatcha up to, huh, baby?” sounds like enough of a rhetorical question for you to ignore it as your grip around his neck loosens, elbows forcing the brunt of your weight on his shoulders as you shift to get into the right spot. it’s not until your cunt is lined up perfectly with the curved outline of his cock, pre mixing with yours through layers of fabric, that you try again, rolling your hips once more to try and get the perfect angle that makes him—

“oh, fuuuuckk, there she is,” he says, so quiet you’re sure you weren’t meant to hear it.

pussy aching, clenching around nothing, you exhale shakily as your boyfriend’s grip tightens for real this time, his ass sliding further back down into the couch, crooking his head to the side so your head can come down and press against the meat of his shoulder, your chest pressed right up against his. the angle stays right, somehow, the head of your boyfriend’s cock wet against your hole before he starts thrusting up into you in earnest, trying to get that feeling again, trying to get the tip of his cock to catch and slip in, just a little, just enough—

“fuck, sweet girl, cunt so good, you’re so wet—” he grunts, hips faltering as your flimsy shorts slip to the side, somehow, dirty cotton panties stretching, doing nothing to stop his cock from sliding up against your clit at its peak and tease your hole on the drop, ruthlessly slipping it in as much as the fabric covering it will allow with the next thrust before he does it all over again.

keigo’s staring down at where you’re connected, holding you in place like a toy as he rolls his hips in your stead, his grip turned bruising, thrusts aimed just right, precise, somehow, like something in his body is made for it—like he’s fucking trained himself to do it. pathetically, you let him do whatever he wants, fingers tangled in the hair at his nape as you moan in his ear.

it isn’t until his grip loosens just a tad and one of his hands lets go, trusting you not to move, that he reminds you who he is and what he does and why you’re here. when deft fingers curl around the back of your neck, keeping you still, you’re helpless to do anything but take it as one of your hands comes down to slip beneath the strap of your panties, question on the tip of your tongue.

“keigo, keigo, can i—wanna—”

you feel your boyfriend chuckle more than hearing or seeing it, feel how his chest stutters with it before his head falls back again, thrusts stilling. just barely within your peripheral, you catch his throat bobbing in a swallow, the corners of his lips curling up in a smirk just as before. 

your skin pulses beneath his fingertips where they dig into your skin as he feigns thought, chest rumbling beneath you. not once does that grip let up—it’s pretty much the only thing stopping you from slipping your right hand beneath your panties to toy with your abused clit. the threat of it, in a way, is what’s keeping you in check, whatever that means.

“fuck, baby girl, i don’t know. how bad d’you want it?”

“keigo,” you whine, the sound high and needy, vibrating against the shell of his ear in turn, “so bad—fuck, please, i need—”

“need what?” he interrupts, voice dropping an octave. his thumb is tracing the skin over your carotid, close to the ear furthest him, where your pulse is the strongest—where it only seems to kick up at the attention, making your head spin. “gotta use your words, sweet girl. can’t just grind on me like that and expect me to know what’s going on up there,”

you whine again, hips jerking involuntarily against his, seeking friction he’s no longer giving you. it’s almost as if he weren’t still hard as hell beneath you, with the way he’s holding still, twitching right up against your soaked panties. almost like he hasn’t been doing anything at all, with how he’s staring at you, golden irises shadowed over with thick lashes as he waits.

“wanna touch,” you manage, breath hitching when his grip tightens warningly around the back of your neck, as if the touch itself weren’t enough of a warning on its own. “wanna come, keigo, please—let me—”

“let you what?” he’s enjoying this, the bastard. you can feel the smirk against your temple as he pulls you closer, speaking directly against your skin, stubble tickling the side of your face. your cunt throbs at the feeling, head clearing only just so at the softer feel of a lazy kiss smoothing over the roughness, his chest rumbling again. “let you get yourself off on my cock like i’m some toy? like i’m just something warm to rub against? could just get you a pillow, huh?”

“no, no, that’s not—” you try, almost shaking your head as if his grip weren’t restricting so much of your movement. you can’t even move, restricted by both his hands and your position—he’s keeping you pliant and docile and fucking frustrated. 

“that’s exactly what you were doing, baby.” the hand on your hip slides down, fingers dragging over the damp fabric of your shorts, pressing just hard enough to make you gasp, hips rolling into the touch but not enough, his cock slipping away to fwap against your thigh. “look at this mess, huh? soaked through. been thinking about this all day, haven’t you? sitting around, what, touching yourself ‘n getting ready for me, yeah?”

“wasn’t—oh, fuck—” your denial dies in your throat as his fingers slip beneath the elastic of your panties, not touching where you need him but just resting there, teasing like a fucking asshole. 

“liar,” he breathes, lacking any malice in the slightest. “but that’s okay. i like you desperate. like you stupid with it, hmm?” his fingers slide lower, brushing through slick folds with a gentleness violently contrasting the bruising grip he’s got around your neck. “so tell me, sweet girl. if i let you touch yourself now, let you play with your clit, what’re you gonna do for me after?”

your mind blanks. he’s circling your hole with one finger, not pushing in, just tracing it while his cock twitches absently against your thigh, so much further than you want it to be, than where it’s supposed to be. he’s clearly getting impatient, but unwilling to rush this game he’s playing. 

“i’ll—” you swallow hard, his fingers stilling, blunt nail catching your gummy insides. “‘m gonna ride you, however you want.”

“however i want?” his finger pushes in further, just the tip, just the tip, and your walls clamp down around nothing, looking for his fingers or his cock or his tongue or anything, anything at all. “that’s dangerous, baby, you know what i like.”

you do. keigo likes to watch you from below, likes to slide low like he is now but lower and stare up at you as you fall apart on his cock. he likes the feel of your hands braced on his wings—if they weren’t so tiny, right now—feathers soft and tickling your palms while he fucks up into you hard enough to make your tummy ache. after, he likes to flip you over, when your thighs start to shake with exertion, likes to create a sort of canopy around you with his wings, intimacy hidden and private and overwhelming ‘cause all you can see is him and all he can see is you. he takes you apart slowly, using up all the time in the world even when he’s shaking apart himself.

“whatever you want,” you correct, voice barely above a whisper. “please, keigo, i’ll be good—’m gonna be so good for you, just let me—”

“let you?” he withdraws his finger, brings it up to your lips, painting them with your slick. “open.”

you obey immediately, lips parting to let his fingers slide inside, tasting yourself, salty and bitter and nasty with his eyes all over you. keigo groans, low and guttural, as your cheeks hollow out and you suck on his fingers like you’re going to suck on his cock later—because you will. you’ll do anything, right now, to relieve the ache.

“that’s it,” he murmurs, almost to himself again, “there’s my good girl.”

he withdraws his fingers slowly, trailing saliva down your chin that he doesn’t even bother to try and swipe away. “go ahead then. touch yourself. don’t fucking come ‘til i’m inside you, though, got it? wanna feel your pussy squeeze me dry.”

his hand leaves your neck, sliding down to join his other where it’s returned to your hips, both now working to lift you just enough so you can slip your hand beneath your panties and press down on your clit, drawing circles right away that make you cry out and tip forward, mouth open against his trap as you drool all over him. it’s too much and not enough—fucking hurts.

“easy,” keigo soothes, but his voice is strained now, control cracking. “slow, baby. wanna watch you. wanna see you fall apart real slow before i fuck you fast, ‘kay?”

you try again, feeling that pathetic urge to obey, circling shaky fingers around your clit again while he watches, slowly pushing back up so he can see your face just how you know he likes. it’s with his eyes locked on your face that he shifts, holding you up just as well with one hand while the other pulls his cock free from his sweats. the sight of it, bright red and wet and leaking, curved to the left as it’s always been, makes your rhythm falter. 

“hey, eyes on me.” he commands, your gaze snapping back up to his. he’s fisting himself in your peripheral, once, then twice, nice and easy, spreading pre over the length. “keep going. show me how you like it, baby.”

you’re not sure exactly how long you’re working yourself up to it, not sure how much more you can take with the added pressure of his eyes on you and his grip on your hip and his cock brushing against your knuckles as he aligns himself beneath you. it’s different than it has been all day, having nothing to look at but your own fingers stretching yourself out and an empty ceiling while keigo was busy filing paperwork the hour or two after he’d gotten home from patrol.

“keigo,” you gasp, feeling the coil tightening, the edge approaching despite his demand, “keigo, i can’t, ‘m gonna—”

“no, you’re not.” he grabs your wrist with the hand covered in pre, cock springing to the side. he stills your movements before shoving your hand away. “not yet. not yet, sweet girl, i got you,”

and then he’s guiding you down, pulling your panties aside with his other hand, the head of his cock pressing into your hole, hot and thick and perfect. he pushes up as you sink down, the opposing movements seating him deep in one stroke, filling you up so well after so long without that it makes your vision white out at the edges.

“fuck, oh fuck—” he groans, head thrown back again as the stubs of his damaged wings rustle against the couch cushions, spreading instinctively—the back frame creaking from the force of them alone. “fuck, you’re so tight, baby—you been holding out on me? saving it just for today?”

“yes,” you sob, already moving, already rolling your hips, “yes, yes, just for you, keigo, kei—”

“fuuuuuck,” he groans, hands back on your hips, lifting you up and slamming you back down with a strength that should be impossible from this angle, setting a brutal pace that has you crying out at every impact. he can’t seem to settle on where to look, gaze snapping up at you then back down at where you’re connected. “yeah, yeah? look at that pussy,” he shifts his grip right after he’s found that gummy spot inside you, starts nailing it after noticing how desperately your fingers are scrambling for purchase on his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. one arm wraps around your waist while the other slides between your bodies, finding your clit with unerring accuracy. the dual sensation, pleasure-pain of him filling you, stretching you, hitting that spot deep inside while his fingers work you from outside, has you unravelling.

“keigo, please, canicanicani—” “come,” he begs, voice wrecked, “come on my cock, sweet girl, let me feel you.”

you break apart with a scream that he swallows with his mouth on yours, kissing you messy and desperate as your walls flutter and clench around him, milking him in waves that make him groan into your throat. he doesn’t stop fucking you through it, doesn’t slow down, chasing his release now with single-minded focus as you go boneless in his hold.

“that’s it,” he pants against your lips, “that’s my girl. so good for me—so fucking good—”

his voice pitches upwards right at the end before he comes with a shout, burying himself deep and spilling inside you, cum hot and thick, marking you from the inside in a way that has you shuddering through aftershocks. for a moment, neither of you move, just breathing hard against each other’s mouths, tears spilling down keigo’s cheeks as he comes down from it.

“all okay?” is all he gets out as his head falls back again, your head falling into the crook of his neck as you sink all the way back down onto his cock, unwilling to move and risk letting any of his cum spill out. his voice is hoarse, all the cocky bravado gone now, replaced with tenderness.

you hum, too spent to form words, nuzzling into where you can feel his pulse racing in turn.

“m’kay, sweet girl,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple, then your jaw, then your mouth, all soft and careful. his grip is delicate, holding your head up carefully while he shifts to kiss you better, nothing like the desperate clash moments before.

he snorts against your lips when you shift and his cum starts to drip out onto the couch.

The excitement he had started to slowly dwindle the more time went on and no one even wanted to sit next to him during class. There were whispers about him from the other kids, ones they thought he couldn’t hear, but his feathers took in every single vibration that came from kids’ throats. While he couldn’t decipher everything, he could decipher enough about the fact that they thought he was scary.

That was how he spent most of his first month in kindergarten—alone, punished to hear every cruel whisper they said about him, and not reacting to it.

But then, one day, came you. The transfer student. There was this cute smile on your face as you waved at all the new faces of your new peers before the teacher had pointed at Keigo and told you to sit next to him.

He was already bracing for impact, waiting for you to shake your head and tell her that you didn’t want to sit next to him—that he was too scary to sit next to. But none of that happened. You just pranced over to him and sat down.

His tiny brain couldn’t compute it, the fact that someone would willingly sit down next to him. As if he hasn’t spent most of his time pouting and staring at other kids’ friendships longingly—which led to dirty looks and them turning their backs toward him.

It’s only when you asked him his name that he finally could function again. His wings puffed up behind him as he looked you over, a shy look that made him take in all of you, before he finally told you his name.

You’d merely smiled at him and told him your own, saying something about becoming the bestest friends in the whole wide world, because sitting next to him meant that the two of you were going to become friends. That’s how that works!!

That was the first time since the start of kindergarten that Keigo smiled again, all of his tiny teeth on display while his eyes crinkled. Oh how lucky he was to have finally found someone who wanted to be his friend.

The smile was quickly wiped off his face when you gasped, though. Eyes widening as you planted one hand on your desk.

He’d stilled, afraid he already did something wrong. His wings trembled uncomfortably behind his back as he noticed other kids staring at the two of you, some already whispering about him—or you for that matter.

Then you leaned forward with a smile so big, it was a wonder it didn’t split your chubby cheeks. There was this certain sparkle in your eyes as you leaned in uncomfortably close, your little eyes looking at his lips.

‘You have sharp teeth!’ you had exclaimed, voice full of excitement. There was this little twitch in your fingers, like you were itching to pull up his lip to examine his teeth yourself.

And it is true that Keigo had sharp canines, something that came with his quirk. It is quite nice that he could just tear through solid foods in an instant, but it also sometimes hurt him. The canines would poke into his lip, drawing some blood out of them. Yeah, he hadn’t fully grown into them yet.

But instead of being afraid of them, you were more fascinated than anything. Fingers still twitching against the desk as you leaned in far too close, your noses almost touching.

Keigo had only blinked at you—a slow blink that you would later point out as well along with a lot of other bird traits he had—before finally nodding his head.

The rest was honestly history.

The two of you got close, much closer than anyone could’ve anticipated. Fingers were always intertwined whenever you’d dragged him somewhere with you, smile on your face as you blabbed on about the thing you just saw and needed for him to see too.

And Keigo? Keigo had just gripped onto your little hand a little tighter, his feathers puffing up behind him as he kept up with you, nodding his tiny head at whatever you were saying, his golden curls bouncing with the motion.

That’s the dynamic between the two of you—you dragging him along with you and him following you wherever you went without so much as a huff.

Soon, he’d forgotten all about other people being scared of him, discriminating against him purely because he has wings and has more bird traits than other winged heteromorphs. All he could think about was you, his best friend.

With those thoughts also came the fact that the two of you trusted each other completely, to the point of having no secrets or so you thought. It was something that was established early on, the fact that the two of you could tell each other everything.

For two children such as yourselves, that meant talking about quirks and their little side effects. This was mostly a topic surrounding Keigo himself, considering he didn’t just get wings but also got some bird traits along with it.

The first one you noticed—aside from the obvious: wings, eye markings, and his sharp canines—was the fact that he reacted strongly to shiny things. His golden eyes always zeroed in on a glint somewhere. Sometimes it was just a little tab from a soda can that lay abandoned on the street, the sun hitting it just right, while other times it was your earrings.

When you’d pointed it out, Keigo had looked away with a faint blush on his face, denying the fact that he was even looking at it. He isn’t that much of a bird! But then it kept happening, and you noticed. Of course you did, you noticed everything about the crimson-winged kid.

You never made fun of him for it; if anything, you started collecting shiny things for him. From soda tabs to shiny coins to little trinkets, all little gifts for him that you presented with a smile on your face.

Keigo just looked at you with those unblinking eyes of his—another bird trait, the fact that he blinks super slow—before he snatched the little thing out of your hand and squeezed you against his body, little arms wrapping around your frame as you just laughed against his skin.

That’s something you haven’t stopped doing—giving him shiny things. Little gifts he keeps in a box under his bed, which you’d found when you were cleaning his room one day.

When you asked him about it, he just shrugged and walked over. Crouching beside you, he wrapped his wing around your shoulder and pulled you into his side. Your head automatically rested itself on his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around your waist.

“I’ve saved everything you’ve ever given to me, why would I stop now?” he had mumbled into your hair, giving it a faint kiss.

That had warmed your cheeks, the small smile on your face widening as you realised he was serious. Even after sixteen years of friendship, he still collected everything you gave to him, even though most of it was trash.

To this day, he has done that. Little trinkets he has gifted you and vice versa spanning your dorm room. There’s a small cup-holder full of shiny things in your little kitchen; A few red feathers laying on your bed—’So you’ll think of me when I’m gone.’—and, of course, that stupid rock you gave him back when the two of you were six years old.

You’re lying on your bed, practically surrounded by blankets and pillows. They swallow you whole as you lazily type away on your laptop, trying to get this annoying assignment done before tonight.

The door to your dorm opens with a heavy thud, rattling the walls slightly. The sound has your head snap up, just in time to see a grumpy blond walk through the door.

His wings droop behind him, primaries just shy of touching the floor, shoulders sagged as he beelines straight to the bed after kicking the door closed behind him. Shrugging off his backpack, he lets himself fall face-first into the matrass.

“Long day?” you ask, head lazily lolling to the side to watch him kick off his shoes. There’s a faint grumble in response, probably a hum in agreement while also telling you… something.

The next second, two red plumes detach themselves from his wings. They hover in the air before one closes your laptop and the other gently puts it on your desk.

Keigo rolls onto his side, giant wings hanging off the side of the bed, before he pulls you closer to him. You let yourself be dragged into whatever position is needed, ending up on your side as well, before he inches closer and puts his forehead against yours.

Right, okay, really bad day it seems.

Closing your eyes, you just let yourself get lost in the sensation for a little while. Pressing your forehead further into his—something he’s told you he liked you doing—you just let him have a little moment to himself.

While this doesn’t really do anything for you, you know Keigo likes to do this when he feels stressed, or when he needs some reassurance. It’s some kind of bird thing that releases serotonin for him, and who are you to deny him his happy hormones?

It’s something the two of you have done since you were little. The first time he did it startled you, not really knowing exactly what he was doing, and back then neither did he. It was his first time doing it, so he shocked the both of you.

There was a small pause, devoid of anything, before he finally scrambled to apologise, saying he didn’t know what he was doing.

You merely tilted your head—a small habit you picked up from him, yet another bird trait; tilting your head when something peculiar happens—and asked him if it felt right doing it. When he’d shyly nodded his head, golden curls bouncing, you’d just smiled and put your forehead against his.

At first it was stiff, the two of you looking at each other while literally having your foreheads pressed together—and if your mom were to walk in, she’d surely have some questions neither of you could answer—before he finally closed his eyes and let himself lean into you a little more.

You’d kept your eyes open, just looking at the way he relaxed into you. His wings stilled, feathers no longer stiff, shoulders sagging. There was this small exhale of relief that came from his nose, and that’s when you knew it was just a part of his brain telling him this was right, this was okay.

But Keigo isn’t all bird. He still has his human side, and his human side also craves connection. So it doesn’t surprise you when, after a few minutes of having your heads pressed together, he pulls you into his chest, arms circling your waist as he puts his chin on top of your head.

Exhaling, you let your own hands find his back—careful not to touch the base of his wings, a mistake you’ve only made once in your life.

“Feeling better?” you ask him, making yourself more comfortable in his embrace. “Mhmm.”

You smile at that as your eyes start to feel a little heavy. You note the way Keigo has draped one of his wings over you, crimson feathers twitching against your skin, almost as if they’re coaxing you to sleep. And before you know it, your eyes close and sleep takes you under.

Waking up, you blink a few times. You’re still cocooned in the red feathers as Keigo is sleeping soundly beside you, his arms still wrapped around your waist. Glancing outside you note how the sky has significantly darkened, and you’re suddenly wide awake.

Shit. What time is it?

Feeling around the bed blindly, your fingers finally find the smooth screen of your phone. Grabbing it, you look at the time. 7:15 pm. With one new notification staring up at you:

We still on for tonight?

Okay. This is okay, nothing to be freaked out about. You have forty-five minutes to get ready—freshen up, do your hair, and put on a cute outfit, which you’ve thankfully laid out already. You can do this, you can so do this.

Wiggling yourself free from Keigo’s embrace, you nearly make it out of the bed when you hear a sleepy grumble come from the guy.

“Go back to sleep, Kei,” you whisper to the guy, waiting for him to fall back asleep before you finally go to make yourself ready.

You’re in the bathroom when Keigo finally wakes up, his feathers twitching against his back as he listens to you hum some sort of tune under your breath—something you’re aware he would hear if he were awake, but soft enough to not wake him up.

For a second he wonders if you’ll come back to bed, but when he feels the spot next to him is cold, he realises you might’ve been awake for longer than he thought.

Rolling over with a groan, he finally sits up. His hair sticks out in odd directions, a few feathers sleep-mussed, which he immediately straightens, and there’s a small pillow crease on his face.

Rubbing his face, he swings his feet over the edge of the bed before making his way over to you. The harsh light from the bathroom fixture makes him blink a few more times before he can finally focus on you. And when he does, all the air leaves his lungs.

Fuck, you look hot.

All dolled up, having put on a pretty black dress, done your hair and makeup, and are currently putting on a necklace.

“Let me help.” His voice sounds raspy, but you just smile at him. Walking behind you, he gently takes hold of the necklace before clipping it together, letting it rest against your collarbones. “Why are you so dolled up, hmmm?”

Because you don’t look like this that often, most of the time preferring to stay inside with him, watching some sort of movie or series. The last time you got all dressed up was for his birthday, which has been some months already.

Fuck, did he forget the two of you had plans?

“Going on a date,” you casually say as you lean forward, adjusting the necklace slightly.

That makes his mind scramble a little. A date? Did he seriously forget about a date? Fuck. Looking down, he notes how he’s still in the same clothes he went to lectures with—a white hoodie and black sweats. Not very date ready. “When are we supposed to leave?”

That makes you look at him funny through the mirror, watching him with a furrowed brow. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, with how busy I’ve been these past few days, I must’ve forgotten that we were going out. So how long do I have to get ready?”

“Keigo, you’re not coming with,” you carefully say, turning around to face him now.

Wait, what? “What do you mean? You just said you were going on a date.”

“Yeah, with this guy from my physics class.”

His brain is malfunctioning now, alongside his mouth. Opening and closing a few times, he tries to find the right words, but they just won’t come out.

“I- did I do something wrong?” he asks, stepping a bit closer to you now. His eyes frantically search your face for any signs, but all he can see is confusion. “I know I’ve been quite busy lately, and that I haven’t really spent much time with you, and we constantly keep having different schedules, but if I’ve done anything wrong, please just tell me—”

“Keigo,” you interrupt him. “You’ve done nothing wrong. We always tell each other when someone does something that they don’t like, remember?”

It was a pinky promise the two of you made when you were mere children, little fingers interlocking when the two of you promised you would tell each other when the other did something wrong or something that hurt their feelings.

“Then why are you going out on a date with a guy who isn’t your boyfriend?”

That stops you in your tracks, your fingers uselessly twitching beside your frame as you look at him. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re going out with a stranger when you’re dating someone already.”

“I’m not dating anyone,” you carefully say, taking a small step back from him. Because what is he talking about right now?

“You’re dating me, chickadee.” Desperation creeps into his voice as he looks you over a few times. You only shake your head, brows furrowing even further.

“Why would you even think that, Kei? We’ve never even done things people who date do.” because it’s true, you’ve never even been on a date with the guy. The only times you’ve gone out were for either of your birthdays, and even that could hardly be called a date.

“You tell me you love me almost every single day.”

“Yeah, because I do. You’re my best friend.”

“You sucked me off last month!” he throws his hands up in the air, voice nearly cracking from how loud he says it.

“That was to practice,” you grumble, looking away from his pleading eyes. Those same eyes that are always looking at you, now blinking faster than you’ve ever seen him blink.

“Practice for what?!”

“For when I get a boyfriend!”

“I am your boyfriend!” He exclaims, completely desperate now. His feathers twitch behind his back, like they want to reach out to you, press every word against your skin.

“Since when, Kei. Because last time I remember, neither of us has ever asked the other person out.” Because you surely would remember if that happened, having had a crush on him since… kindergarten.

“I- oh my god. So you’re meaning to tell me when you sat on my face, it was ‘just as friends’; when we took each other’s virginity, it was just as friends; when we were making out last week, it was just as friends?” His voice is getting steadier every time he comes up with new things, and you’re sure he could name ten more things that “just friends” wouldn’t do.

“Well…” when he puts it like that, it does sound a little silly, but it all made sense in your head when the two of you did it. Sure, you’ve thought about the fact that normal best friends wouldn’t do all of this without the ‘benefits’ label behind it, but still!! “Don’t make it sound like that.”

“Sound like what, dove? The fact that we’ve been dating for eleven years already and you’re only now finding it out?” He steps closer to you, wings spreading out a bit as he looks at you in that pretty dress, before they snap shut again, remembering the fact that it wasn’t for him.

“What in the ever-living fuck are you talking about, Keigo?” Seriously, did he hit his head or something?

Thinking back on it, he has flown into a building before, showing off to you and not looking where he was flying. He smacked the window so hard, he chipped his tooth—which he had to get fixed later that same day.

“The gifts, the nesting, the forehead thing, the preening, me showing off my wings to you—you even let me do a free-fall with you in my arms!”

“What about those things?”

“Oh for fucks sake, chickadee,” he grumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose. Exhaling, you can hear him count to five under his breath before he finally looks at you again. Those pretty amber eyes looking you dead in the eye as he says: “I was courting you.”

“I- you- what?” Your brain is malfunctioning, because surely you heard that wrong.

Courting, something birds did to attract their mates. You know that some species showed off their dancing skills while others sung their little lungs out. And then there was the fact that some species gathered things for their mates, and— oh.

You think back on all of the times where Keigo would gift you things. Some of them were shiny things his little magpie brain liked, while others were just normal gifts—plushies, earrings, bracelets.

Then your eyes drift past Keigo, toward the bed, where all those pillows and blankets lay in a comfortable little square. There are a lot of pillows and blankets now that you think about it.

A nest.

Keigo had been nesting and you hadn’t even once realised it. Despite being always there with him.

“You seriously didn’t know? Didn’t even for a second think to look up the meaning behind all of those things” the sound of his voice makes your eyes snap back to his.

“Why would I? You’re you, and you’ve always told me everything about your quirk anyway. And yeah, sure, you’ve told me how close you’d have to be to someone to do the whole forehead press thingy and preening, but you never said anything about courting!”

“That’s because I thought you knew—that you were reciprocating those feelings,” he whispers. One of his hands comes down to your arm, fingers hovering uselessly above your skin before he finally slides it down to where your hand is resting beside your body. Taking it, he starts playing with your fingers—a small habit he’s had since the two of you were kids. “and you’re meaning to tell me you just… did all of those things, without knowing what they meant?”

“Well, duh. They were important to you, so why wouldn’t I let you do them?” Because that’s the thing about Keigo. He has some traits that don’t fully align with yours, but even if you don’t inherently understand them, you always just let him do whatever felt right for him. Whether that be gifting you random objects, or letting him press his forehead against yours because it released happy hormones in his brain, you’d just let him do whatever he felt like.

“I can’t believe I’m in love with a dumbass,” he mumbles, too low for you to catch.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, dove, absolutely nothing,” his fingers finally still as he looks you in the eye. “Now tell me. Do I have to watch my girlfriend of eleven years walk through the door to go out on a date with another man, or can I bring her back to bed and fuck her brains out for even thinking that we were doing all of those things as just friends?”

“Come here, you stupid birdbrain.” You tug on his hands before crashing your lips on his.

You might not have gone on that date you weren’t looking forward to, but you did get dicked down by the most important person in your life. And you’ve gained a boyfriend! (Which you apparently already had for eleven years.)

That’s a win in your books.

A/n: I think this is the most dialogue-heavy fic I've ever written and idk how to feel about it.

tags: @yoonsucks @etheralpanic @lilithkleia @dollieadored @starsforvia @iinvivible @saniiaa @marisacosm @tojiphoria @yorikae @yoniknows @coveexxx @mousedit @lilslovesaizawa @june-buggiewug @sunnyfieldsz @dragemballz