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@uravityism
i feel as though i belonged to another world ༄.°
masterlist (coming soon) . . request box by lorena ༝༚༝༚ ˖᯽ ݁˖ eighteen

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hey lovelies, so sorry the hawks fic is taking so long!! i’m busy with school and work, but i graduate at the beginning of june, so you’ll have my full attention then!
in the mean time, feel free to send requests or messages (i need friends on here🥹) in my inbox! if you already sent a request, i’ll be getting to it shortly
love yaaaa 🤍 and ty for all the support
turn the camera off! w/ katsuki bakugo <𝟑 .ᐟ
word count : 946 !
content : the tiktok trend where gfs record their bfs being all clingy without them knowing , pro-hero bakugo caught lacking , domestic fluff , one use of y/n
katsuki bakugo was not the affectionate type. at least that's what everyone thinks. so when mina tells you about a harmless tiktok trend that came up on her fyp, one where girls record their unknowing boyfriends being clingy, you couldn't resist trying it.
the apartment was quiet, it was late and the city lights bled softy between the curtains, all while the hum of traffic was somewhere far below.
you were both in bed. well, technically, bakugo was on top of you--thankfully not too heavy, just close. one arm was around your waist, the other was tucked under your back, all while his face was buried in the crook of your neck. his breath was warm against your skin and you could only assume his eyes were closed, he was relaxed in such a way that made it seem like he had no intention of moving for the next decade. these were the nights you loved, when he was free from patrol and all his hero duties.
it was rare to have this kind of stillness and you were sure many, many people would be baffled that the number five, pro-hero dynamight could exist like this.
"you're warm," he muttered into your neck, voice rough and sleepy from the long day.
you smiled while your fingers brushed lazily through his untamed hair.
and, if it was even possible, he pressed closer.
it was such a sweet, simple moment that you almost felt bad about the phone that you held above him. it had been recording for a few seconds now.
it was just for a trend mina had shown you earlier (and, of course, you have absolutely no intention of sharing it to anyone), but it was something stupidly cute to torture him with.
"he doesn't know when you're recording." she'd said. "that's the whole point."
you laughed lightly, "seems kind of mean."
well, bakugo definitely didn't know.
he shifted slightly and lovingly tightened his hold on you. then, his voiced dropped a little and he drawled out the words, "don't move."
"i'm not moving," you whispered in return, amused.
"good."
there was a pause. you almost didn't want him to see the camera and ruin the moment.
his hand flexed slightly at your waist as if he was checking that the moment was real, that you were real.
"stay here." he mumbled into your neck.
"you're clingy." you teased gently. even after all this time, he still gave you butterflies.
"shut up." he said, though there was no bite to it, only comfort.
his head sank deeper into your neck again and, for a moment, you thought he'd fallen asleep like that. his breath was so quiet and steady and the weight of him felt so familiar now, it made your heart ache a little.
then he murmured a little absentmindedly, "love you.." it was so soft that you almost missed it. your fingers paused in his hair, all the while the other hand kept the phone steady.
you had a small, more-than-content smile. "yeah, i know."
he hummed like that answer satisfied him.
then, bakugo shifted his head upward a little and pressed a soft kiss to your jaw.
that's when his sleepy, crimson eyes caught the dim light from the corner of his eye.
"what is that..." he muttered sleepily.
you stared at the ceiling when he shifted his head slightly, just enough to look up... just enough to see your phone... still recording.
the second bakugo fully registered what he was seeing, his eyes locked onto the camera and he jolted.
honestly, jolted is a bit of an understatement. the blond practically jumped back off of you so fast that the blanket shifted, then his hand snapped up instinctively like he was about to detonate the room out of pure reflex.
"WHAT THE HELL-"
he was already halfway from falling off the bed, glaring up at the phone then back to you like you had betrayed him more than anybody ever had.
you could already hear denki's stupid voice saying, "good one y/n, it could get, like, twelve million views."
"the hell is this!?"
you wheezed a little, "it's just a trend-"
"A TREND?"
"yes!"
"I'LL CREMATE YOU." at that, you lost it. you fell back onto your pillow and laughed, all the while he just sat there with messy hair and looking at your phone like it was the worst villain he'd come across. "DELETE IT NOW."
"i was gonna-" you tried to speak, still laughing, "i was literally gonna-"
"I'M NOT BEING RECORDED IN MY OWN DAMN HOUSE." he barked out and turned his head away, acting like he could escape embarrassment that way.
from somewhere deep in your laughter, you managed to speak, "you were being cute."
at that, he whipped his head back. "DON'T CALL IT THAT!"
"you're ashamed of love, katsu." you teased as your hand went out to pull him back into bed, the other hand putting your phone down.
despite his yelling, he leaned into your touch without fight. though before he could lay down, he leaned across you and grabbed your phone and threw it onto his side of the bed. you had to restrain yourself from calling your boyfriend dramatic.
then, he grabbed the blanket and yanked it up over the both of you. it looked like he was trying to erase the entire incident from reality.
"...whoever gave you this idea is dead." he muttered.
you were still smiling into his shoulder when he finally settled back down. he was a little grumpy and flushed, refusing to look directly at you now. but his hand still found your waist again anyway.
i just want to say how thankful i am for all the likes, comments, and reblogs. i just started this blog and it truly is so exciting and means a lot! also, if you send in a request, i got it but it might just take me a moment! (i'm graduating in 3 weeks and then i'm all yours) <3
tag list : @paleepeaches (lmk if you'd like to be added!)
with love, uravityism
graduation kiss w/ katsuki bakugo <𝟑 .ᐟ
a/n: i just love childhood friends w/ bakugo (in my head it's the only way he can fall in love) please enjoy , reblogs and comments are appreciated!
words: 1718 !
content: childhood friends to lovers , fluff , ua graduation , crack , reader wants that cookie real bad , maybe a little indulgent but i have to treat you guys
you and katsuki bakugo have spent your entire lives orbiting each other. through the sand box days to graduating hero school, you two have been oddly inseparable.
you were never quite the sentimental or even delusional type... but in japan, there's a tradition where a boy gives the second button of his uniform (the one closest to his heart) to the girl he likes most. unfortunately for katsuki, who is completely oblivious to most heart-felt traditions, he has absolutely no idea this exists.
you, however, very much do.
graduation at u.a. was louder than you'd expected. not in the formal sense, the ceremony had been neat and structured, but the aftermath was completely different. it was chaos wrapped by laughter and people calling each other over, not to mention photos being taken at every possible angle. someone was crying (probably hagakure), someone else was already trying to plan a party, and somewhere in the middle of it, katsuki bakugo was looking around. surprisingly he didn't have that look in his eyes that said the whole ceremony was beneath him.
he stood just off to the side of the main courtyard where most people couldn't see him. he waited, his tie already loose just enough to feel comfortable.
eventually you did find him--it wasn't hard. ever since you were children, you'd always known where he was, even in a sea of people. some things didn't change.
"there you are." you said, stepping beside him like you'd done a thousand times before.
"took you long enough," he replied immediately.
"yeah, yeah." you smiled a little and folded your arms. "anyway, you disappeared first."
"yeah, well. extras everywhere."
you laughed softly.
there was a pause, it wasn't awkward and you two just settled into it as you both looked out at your classmates. mina was dragging someone into a group photo, kirishima was laughing at something, and a few others were already talking about their internships and what agencies they were interested in.
"feels weird." you said after a second.
"yeah."
you glanced at him with a teasing look in your eyes. "that's it? will you miss it even a little?"
"what do you want me to say?" he shot back like usual. "it's over. we're done. that's it."
you huffed out a soft laugh, facing him now. "you're so sentimental."
"shut up." katsuki said, but he didn't sound irritated. "you knew you weren't getting a speech from me."
you grinned. "mean."
"you know me."
yeah, you did. you knew katsuki bakugo better than almost anyone else in the world.
and somewhere along the way, at some point between childhood and now, you'd realized you were kind of stupidly in love with him. it wasn't dramatic and movie-like, it was just natural. like the feelings had always been there, just waiting for you to notice.
you nudged him gently.
you tilted your head towards him, a playful look in your eyes. "remember when we were kids and you used to throw pebbles at my window."
"because you took forever."
"you shattered my window once." you deadpanned.
he narrowed his eyes a little. "that was one time."
"i bet you cried after your mom yelled at you."
"she yells all the time." he said as if they weren't practically twins.
"speaking of... even as children, you'd yell at me for not keeping up with you on the way to school."
"i still do that." he replied like it was obvious.
"you don't."
"i do."
"you literally slow down for me now."
he clicked his tongue. "i do not."
"you do."
"i don't."
"you do."
"whatever." he gave up.
you had the faintest grin on your face, it was a look of satisfaction. another silence settled over the two of you, it wasn't exactly heavy or sad.. you couldn't quite express what you were feeling.
"you did good, you know," you say a little quieter now.
"obviously." he muttered.
you rolled your eyes, but your smile didn't fade. "yeah, obviously."
then he shifted and adjusted his blazer ever so slightly. "i'm gonna go find my old hag before she starts yelling at someone."
you chucked lightly, "please record it if she does."
"tch. i'm not doing that."
you pushed him arm away playfully. "i'll see you after?"
he glanced at you then, just for a second. "yeah."
and then he turned, starting to walk back towards the crowd. you watched him go for exactly three seconds. then-
"..really?" your tone dropped flat and you deadpanned in an instant.
bakugo stopped mid-step and slowly turned back around, his brows already furrowed. "what."
you were looking at him like he just insulted you and your family.
"what do you mean 'what'." you said, crossing your arms, "that's it? that's how you're leaving it?'
"leaving what."
"oh my gosh." you muttered, dragging a hand down your face. "you are unbelievable."
his eyes narrowed. "the hell are you talkin' about?"
"i'm talking about the fact that we just graduated," you said and gestured casually around you. "and you didn't even-" you cut yourself off. "you know what, forget it."
"no, say it." he snapped. "you started it."
you stared at him for a second, like you were debating on whether it was worth the efforts or not. then you sighed.
"i'm just saying," you started off, your voice still flat but laced with something close to exasperation. "i didn't put all my hopes into you doing something disgustingly dramatic or anything, but i at least thought you'd give me your button."
silence.
bakugo blinked.
"..my what."
"your second button." you said in an obvious tone. "hello? graduation tradition? ringing any bells up there?"
he started at you. "that's a thing?"
you actually recoiled.
"you're joking."
"i'm not joking."
"you're telling me," you started out slowly, "that you made it through three years here, surrounded by people that would've absolutely talked about this.. and you didn't hear about it?"
"no."
"oh my gosh."
you turned away from him, pacing a step like you needed to physically process. "i cannot believe this. i just cannot..."
"why the hell do you care about some stupid button?" he tilted his head a little.
you stopped and turned, looking him dead in the eyes.
you'd known katsuki for far too long, yet you still almost couldn't believe the density of the blond standing before you.
"because," you said flatly and then added with a matter-of-face tone, "it's supposed to mean something."
"and?"
"and-" you cut yourself off again, visibly restraining yourself from hitting a man today. "you know what, whatever, forget the button."
"good." he said immediately.
"but also," you continued right where he left off, slightly pointing at him now. "you didn't even try to kiss me."
bakugo froze like his brain was loading the next response.
"..what."
you let out a sharp breath and then you spoke like any teenage girl would, "what do i have to do, katsuki? seriously. do i have to spell it out? do i need to, like, hop on one leg? bark? do a backflip? what is the requirement here?"
his brain clearly couldn't come up with something to say or do. then he blinked a few times.
"WHAT!?" he barked out.
"you seriously never thought about it? even a little?"
his face looked genuinely blank, which somehow irritated you more now.
"katsuki," you spoke slow at first, "i have known you since were, like, four. i practically handed this opportunity to you on a silver platter."
"WHAT OPPORTUNITY?"
"are all men this dense?" you said the words like it was an inside though that wasn't supposed to escape.
"you never said ANYTHING!" he yelled at his usual, ear-bleeding volume.
katsuki almost looked genuinely overwhelmed now, which would've been funnier if you weren't busy with being offended. then he opened his mouth, shut it, then looked away for a moment like he needed divine intervention.
that's when he saw the pair of idiots. kirishima and mina stood across the courtyard, clearly eavesdropping. katsuki's gaze was so intense that even you looked back just in time to see the two bolting. mina nearly tripped over a bush.
he muttered something and you still held that entertained look on your face.
when you both turned back, you'd realized that at some point during the argument, you stepped closer to each other without realizing. there were barely inches between you. close enough that he could probably feel your heartbeat if he leaned in just a little.
bakugo stared at you for a few seconds too long for it not to mean something. then a little longer.
and finally he spoke, quieter now, "you're such a goddamn idiot." his eyes went to your lips for half a second before returning to your eyes.
"i know," your voice came out in a hush.
then he kissed you. it was a little quick, as if he second guessed himself along the way, but then your hand grabbed his tie and pulled him down lightly so his lips could meet yours again.
you wanted this forever without realizing how badly until now.
it was a slightly messy and your noses bumped up against each other, and still, it was the perfect way to end this chapter of yours lives. it felt like you two were learning each other again, despite being friends your whole life. maybe that's why it felt so overwhelming, but it wasn't really new. it was like every almost moment in your friendship from over the years catching up to this one moment.
when you two pulled away, you let out a soft, breathless little laugh without meaning to. it was the kind of laugh that came out when things felt too good to be real.
"the hell you laughin' at?" katsuki sounded offended and flustered all at once.
"you." you said quietly, still smiling helplessly. "you're cute."
and then-
"YEEEESSSS!!"
mina leaped out from God knows where to celebrate.
you jumped just as kirishima popped out behind her and spoke loud enough for (what felt like) the whole graduating class to hear. "FINALLY BAKUBRO!"
"i'm gonna kill them." katsuki said with a voice that truly did have the intent to kill.
you leaned into katsuki, whispering. "we deserve to embarrass them when they realize."
the world felt right.
this concept was funny in my head, so i hope you all enjoyed hehe (i'm horrible at writing kiss scenes)
with love , uravityism
Gurkl lysm I forgot to mention I'd read your fix either way but yeah just gave a little suggestion thx for filling the hawks void in my heart ♥️♥️
ILYYYY, and you genuinely gave me more ideas so be ready for more hawks content😋😋
ps if anyone have requests or scenarios you’d like to see, don’t be afraid to send it in my request box

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would LOVE IT if you made a keigo x reader but perhaps make the reader a civilian or an office worker cuz personally if you're writing a romance then it's best to focus on hawks and reader's dynamic instead of the complex world of mha
you're so right and now i'm staring at the half-finished fic.. and i'm ngl this concept actually fits so much better (brb im gonna go cry)
if i end up not changing this fic, then this actually gave me so many ideas for future ones😼tysm!!
would anyone be interested in a hawks / keigo takami x reader? i don’t want to spoil too much, but it’ll be a small series and you’ll be from the commission as well (angst w happy ending im thinking)
if you want to be tagged for it, just lmk through comment, dm, or send a request
childhood friends to lovers w/ katsuki bakugo <𝟑 .ᐟ
a/n : hello! it's my first post , i hope you enjoy and feel free to request mha or naruto in my inbox ( i'm open to headcanons , oneshots , or even little series ! )
words: 1816 !
warnings : just the tiniest bit of angst ( even that's a bit of a stretch) , cuteness , mean katsuki , fem reader
you don't really remember a time before katsuki bakugo--the thought alone sounds ridiculous. but just because you've known him your whole life doesn't mean you've always liked him. both your moms were best friends since school, so naturally you two were shoved together from the start.
childhood ・during childhood, he's isn't a complete bully to you, he mostly just wants everything done his own way "right"
・and you're one of those people who don't just fold under like that
・"you're doing it wrong," he says, arms crossed
・"then do it yourself." you shoot back, hardly even looking at him
・and he huffs... but then he does sit next to you, showing you instead of just grabbing it away
・even from childhood, it was like a game: he pushes and you push back just as hard, you're children after all
・your moms think it's hilarious the way your worlds orbit each other (and even from that age they joked about you two getting married in the future)
・there might've been a playground wedding with izuku as the officiant, but you can't remember if that was a fever dream or not (it wasn't)
・there was one time that a boy at the park made fun of you and, to your surprise, katsuki stuck up for you
・that isn't just a one time thing either... some kid at the park laughs when you trip? katsuki's already in their face, shoving them back
・he just reacts like it's instinct
・when mitsuki scolds him, he'll cross his arms and glare, muttering, "they started it," even when they didn't
growing up ・you're in the same classes, same neighborhood, same everything
・you try to make other friends (and you do), but katsuki is always there
・sometimes he'd criticize the people you hang out with like he's offended by their existence
・"they're extras." he says, as if that meant anything to you as a kid
・to him there's a clear hierarchy: him, you, then everyone else
・it's not even because he has a crush or anything, it's just familiarity and the fact that you've been there long enough that he doesn't even dare question your presence anymore
・your mom and mitsuki definitely love how inseparable you two are and joke about it constantly
・as a kid you call him 'kacchan', but as you grow a little older that nickname shifts to 'katsu' or, at the very least, just his first name
middle school ・by now, everyone knows katsuki is... a lot
・but with you--at least just when you two are alone--he knows he doesn't have to prove anything (not that it stops him from trying)
・and unlike so many in his life, you don't treat him like he's untouchable
・but as you two grew into your own people, things started changing--or maybe it was that he didn't change
・the way he talks to izuku, the way he treats people that he thinks are "below him"
・it's not just a loud thing anymore, it's cruel
・of course, you can't ignore it and your words start out small, "that was unnecessary." but he brushes you off, "stay out of it."
・and it keeps happening
・and one day you don't stay out of it
💥, ₊˚⊹♡
it's after school and there's no huge scene or insufferable crowd, it's just you and him.
"why do you talk to him like that?"
he already looked annoyed, "because he's-"
you cut him off before he could say anything else and he freezes, not specifically because of the interruption, but because of the way you did it. you didn't brush it off like usual and there was no humor in your voice.
"you don't get to act like that and expect me to be okay with it."
and for the first time, you're not on his side. and katsuki being katsuki, he doesn't handle it well.
"you don't know what the hell you're talkin' about," he snaps.
"then explain it." you shoot back with an irritated shrug.
he can't, at least not in a way that sounds right out loud.
💥, ₊˚⊹♡
the distance ・you don't cut him off completely, but you do stop defaulting to him
・you stop waiting for him after school, stop attempting to side with him on arguments, and stop pretending like things don't bother you
・and katsuki may be a middle school boy, but he still notices
・immediately
・of course, he refuses to admit why it bothers him so much, so he doubles down and acts like he doesn't care, like you're another 'extra' who decided to drift away
・but it's not the same because you were never just "someone"
・you were one of the many constant things in his life, and now you're not
・your mom notices this shift too and asks if you two had a fight, you said, "no" and technically, it wasn't
u.a. (where you're practically forced back into orbit) ・you both get into the school of your dreams and suddenly avoiding each other isn't so easy
・everything feels so unresolved and weird
・yet as time passes, you begin to see something in him, like he's restraining a bit
・he's still intense and blunt as ever, but it's like he's aware of himself in a way he wasn't before
・maybe it was all the attacks, his kidnapping, or something that's happened between him and izuku
・you couldn't be certain
・nowadays he doesn't escalate every situation
・maybe only 9/10 of them (which is progress for him)
・and you could swear that when you catch his eye, it's like he's checking to see if you noticed the difference
・you don't forgive him too quickly and you're certainly not okay with everything just because time has passed
・but you can see he's trying
・sort of badly and awkwardly, but still you can see that he truly wants to be a hero
・the rebuilding starts off small--a comment during training, maybe a short conversation, or even him asking gruffly if you needed help on a question that he noticed you've been staring at
・and one day, it slips out
💥, ₊˚⊹♡
"you were right."
you blink. "about what?"
he looks away, jaw tight, and holding an expression that was restrained.
"middle school."
that's it. there's no big speech or apology laced with perfect words. it was just that. but from him, it means everything.
💥, ₊˚⊹♡
the feelings?? ・this is where everything you've known changes because it's not just familiarity or the usual "we've always known each other"
・you chose to come back to each other
・and he knows you could've chosen not to
・so when he looks at you now, it's different
・on top of that, since there's been so much danger and uncertainty, you cherish the quiet moments with him and that's when you begin to notice your own traitorous feelings
・it's not sudden, but it's the way you notice him before anyone else and the way your chest settles when you see katsuki across the room
・somehow uncertainty makes things clearer instead of messier
・and you think to yourself, if the things around you are falling apart so easily and life is so uncertain, then what you feel right now has to mean something
・and somewhere between the fear and relief, you realize that it does
・katsuki, on the other hand, doesn't notice at first how different you are to him than everyone else
・more important, more present, more everything.
・still, he doesn't name it
・but one day it clicks
・he doesn't just think, "oh, i like her." - it's, "losing you would actually mess me up."
・or something else haunting, "someone else could have you."
・you may have noticed your feelings first, but he feels it harder
・it's all-consuming and bleeds into every free moment he has
the confession ・it happens after something small, a training day, probably
・you're just laughing with one of the boys in the class, it's nothing serious but katsuki feels it all too much
💥, ₊˚⊹♡
he doesn't make a scene out of it or drag you into a secret corner. he just calls out to you like usual.
"oi, a minute."
you follow him, albeit a little confused.
it's quiet where he stops, away from the rest of the group who has already decided to get food and have hardly noticed the absence of you two.
he doesn't look at you right away, which is how you know this might be serious.
he keeps his hands shoved in the pockets of his training pants. his jaw is tight. "you've been..."
he trails off for a moment and you wait, your attention never leaving him.
he exhales sharply. "this is stupid."
"then don't say it," you shrug with a light, almost teasing tone.
"no. i'm saying it."
and then he finally looks to you. his gaze was somehow both steady and a little frustrated, but not at you. at himself.
"i don't like it."
you blink a little comically. "what?"
"when you're with other people like that." he nods his head to the path you were just walking and slowly it clicks.
his tone isn't something you're all too used to. there's no aggression in it, it's just... honesty.
you tilt your head a little. "why?"
he pauses. the old him would've deflected and turned it onto you before shutting it down, but now he answers. even if it costs him his pride.
"because i like you."
there's no build up or soft delivery. just the truth, dropped between you like it's been sitting on his chest far too long.
his crimson eyes don't leave your own and he doesn't use his attitude to cover up his words, he just watches you.
one of the few times in his life, something mattered more than his pride: your answer.
then he adds, "i'm not good at this kinda thing. but i know that much."
💥, ₊˚⊹♡
・after the confession, he doesn't suddenly get sweet in the way people usually would
・he has his own way, he chooses his words with you and lays off on the nicknames (even if it clearly annoys him to do so)
・the way his hand finds yours feels like it's always known where it belongs
・he walks beside you, not ahead (which he was never allowed to do in the first place, but i thought it was worth noting) and if someone points it out, he just tells them to shut up
・and your moms? absolute, completely, unapologetically insufferable
・mitsuki acts like she's been waiting for this moment since you two were in diapers
・your mom is somehow worse
・they even start planning things you didn't agree to and act like this was always the end goal (it probably, definitely was)
・ katsuki complains loudly, "you're all insane."
・don't worry, he still shows up and you two get flamed side by side <3
・yes, the road was a little rough, but through it you two have an understanding that even if the ground were to split in two and the world around you burns--he'd still stand by you, and you with him
guys i CHOOSE to believe in this softer version of katsuki!! hope you enjoyed and feel free to request more w/ any character or request to be mutuals!
part 2?
with love, uravityism
ೀ ᗷᗩKᑌGO is not good at romance. . .
like yes, he's the first one to notice when someone is crushing on one of his friends—calls kirishima a dense moron for not noticing mina's cues sooner—but when it comes to his own situation, at the fact that you've been hopelessly in love with him since you've two been in diapers?
oh, the blonde is as dense as they come.
maybe it's the fact that you've been clingy with him since day one that he's so indifferent, or maybe it's the fact that he's so accustomed to your presence itself—that he sees no point in chasing you away like he does the others.
you stuck to his side like glue. bakugo was used to you... that when you suddenly weren't there anymore—giggling in response to the idiots jokes across the classroom—he caught his gaze drifting over to you more than he'd like.
it's not even as if you've cut ties with him, still consistently annoying the hell out of him throughout the week, yet, it wasn't like before. you had more friends now, we're more popular with the new upper and underclassmen.
you didn't necessarily change, but... he did.
the blonde started listening more intently to your rambles, crimson eyes zeroing in on facial features that have slowly matured over time, his own expression uncharacteristically relaxed—tender.
he started paying more attention to the way you lit up when he subtly complimented you, started noticing how your smile widened whenever he looked your way, squishy cheeks eventually puffed up with glee.
he started feeling weird, a slight fluttering sensation coursing through his veins once your eyes met—though he'd constantly disregard it as nothing more than mere figments of his imagination, or better yet, lack of sleep.
katsuki bakugo is good at a lot of things... except for romance.
which is why—he didn't think much of it when he snatched your hand into his, tugging you backwards against his chest and far far away from the extra he didn't recognize in front of you.
the blonde could tell from a mile away that this wasn't an ordinary conversation; coy smile, casual tone, and leaning against the locker besides yours...?
whoever this asshole was has other intentions, that's for damn sure, and for whatever reason—katsuki didn't like it, not one damn bit.
"back the hell off." he glares, not even waiting for a response before turning around, calloused hand sliding down from your wrist to your palm, leading you straight down the hall and out the building.
your brows raise, heart racing as you stumble close behind, mind reeling with emotions. "k-kacchan?! what was that all about...?!"
he scoffs, fuming with determination. "the bastard was obviously flirting with you, idiot." he glances back at you, eyes narrowed. "don't tell me you didn't notice."
"well, i kinda got the vibe but..." you pause, tilting your head ever so slightly. "you didn't have to save me or anything, i had it covered."
"tsk—i know that." he clicks his tongue, expression sour, facing forward once more, faint mumble escaping him. "...just didn't like it."
you blink. "hm?"
"...'ts nothing." he continues, voice calmer compared to a few seconds ago. "just—" he huffs, hand letting go of yours to stuff back within his pocket. "—stay close to me so it won't happen again, got it?"
thump thump. thump thump. thump thump.
the air seems to get knocked right out of you, eyes twinkling with newfound hope—excitement. it was the first time he verbally invited you to remain within arms reach, to stay close, and you hoped... you sure hoped, it wasn't the last.
you immediately lighten up, nodding vigorously with high spirits, suddenly latching onto his forearm with a familiar squeal of pure joy. "uhn!"
he tries to fight it off, he really does, but something with the way your warmth seeps into his—diminishes his stubborn pride. his heart does a full on somersault, the tips of his ears flushing a bright cherry red, palms sweaty.
yet he doesn't make a move to shove you off, simply letting you cling to him—just like you've always have. "...idiot."
katsuki bakugo is good at a lot of things... except for romance.
ᯓ☆ ᑎᗩᐯIGᗩTIOᑎ ⋮ @leleyro @zaiban2989 @tootyallfarty @skylermiller1 @aikojwhpa @eyesforbkg @strawberrychita @tangerineflavouredfentanyl @qyuin @janeisnotonline @drageonix24 @abinformyobsessions @green-orange-bloom @imjustanobody2024 @lsirria @gwynethical @lucidsdiary
“have you seen the abs on that man?” hagakure sat across of you. “sexy on a stick, i swear!” she giggles. she was going on and on about the guy that starred in the superman movie you girls put on last night. henry cavill was his name.
mina agrees with her statement with a nod. “he’s the hottest white man i’ve ever seen before.”
“sure, he was hot, but are we forgetting the misogynist comments he’s made? sexy is one thing, but being controversial is a whole ‘nother thing.” uraraka inserted her input.
“oh, please. i’d cook and clean for him anyday he asks.” mina retorted. both uraraka and yaoyorozu shake their head in shame.
“speaking of controversial.” uraraka murmurs under her breath, you peer over your shoulder, wondering the intent of her statement.
you notice bakugou making his way over to your desk, his eyes planted on you and you only. you shift uncomfortably. why the hell would he be coming to you? did you do something?
once he makes his way to your desk, you look up at him with a half smile.
“hey, bakugou. what’s up?”
his eyes analyze the other girls before looking back down on you.
“my pencil?”
you flutter your lashes at him. “pencil..?” you repeated in a trance of confusion.
he groans. “the fuckin’ pencil i gave you last week. i need it back.”
now it all clicks. you nod, laughing nervously because of your stupidity. you reach in your backpack and grab the black mechanical pencil that you forgot to lend back to bakugou.
your arm extends to the male in front of you, waiting for him to snatch it back.
“sorry.”
he gently grasped onto the pencil, his hand brushing against your fingers for a small moment.
“it’s whatever. just rather not be the one to find you after i lent you something.” he shoved the pencil in his pants pockets, leaving his hands in there. “that’s one of the last pencils i have.”
you shoot your eyebrows up in defense, quickly lowering them after. your eyes falling down to your desk for comfort.
“well, hope you take care of that one.” it was a half-joke. a lame one, might you add. you were just unsure on what to say. especially since it seemed like bakugou was lingering around your desk. as if he didn’t want to return to his seat just yet.
“so, what’d you score on your test?”
“ah…it wasn’t the best, but it wasn’t horrible.”
“well?” was he really desperate to know that bad? you knew bakugou was smart, so he probably only wanted to know so it could boost his ego.
you rubbed your arm out of shame. “a seventy-nine.” you stared at his face to recognize any humility or laughter, but there was none.
he shrugged. “should’ve asked for my help if you needed it.”
right. you almost forgot that bakugou offered to help you study and go over notes with him for the next test. it was such an out-of-bakugou thing to do that you nearly didn’t take him serious.
you nodded slowly, processing his information.
“i was planning on making it up, so maybe for that.”
“fine.” his short one-worded response was dull. but what else did you really expect? “next time, don’t steal my pencil.” was his last comment before leaving your presence.
you sat in your thoughts, reeling the conversation back in your mind. what the hell just happened? it was the most simple yet confusing conversation you’ve ever had. was bakugou joking with you or was he seriously irritated with the pencil situation?
regardless, you made a mental note that bakugou was very protective over his mechanical pencils.
once bakugou returned to his seat, he unzipped his backpack, secretly opening his pencil box. within the box were a collection of pencils. there were so many pencils that he could give one to all of class 1a and 1b and still have few left.
aside sat denki who was clearly peeking inside of bakugou’s bag.
“damn, bakubro. you saving up pencils for a potential pencil outage or something?” it’s denki. of course, he never used his inside voice.
“i will literally blow you out this fuckin’ window and across the lot.” bakugou turns his head immediately, a faint pink blush spreading across the apples of his cheek.
bakugou just didn’t want you to know that the pencil was obviously an excuse to talk to you.
pt 2 of the study sesh

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Big Strong Man ɞ·˚ KB
❥ FLUFF! ♡♡
❥ IN WHICH, Katsuki has been holding his heart out for Y/N since they were kids, enduring years of uncharacteristic patience. She finally ends his waiting, with one bold kiss during their patrol night.
❥ WC : 2464
"Yuck!"
Y/N stared down at the treasure he had just presented to her: a shiny, slightly sticky beetle that he found near the bushes.
"What do you mean, yuck?" Katsuki huffed, his tiny chest puffing out. "It’s the biggest one! It’s cool! I’m giving it to you because I'm the best, and the second best deserves the best stuff!"
The golden afternoon sun shined down on the two five-year-olds as they stood in the sand, the quiet of the sandbox amplified by the tension between them.
Y/N poked at the sand with a plastic shovel, unimpressed. "It has too many legs, Katsuki. And it’s twitchy. I don't want a twitchy bug."
Katsuki shifted his weight, his fingers sparking with miniature pops. He was only five, but his ego was already ten feet tall—even if his height didn't match. "Fine! Then.. Then what do you want? If we’re gonna get married when we’re Pro Heroes, I gotta know what you like!"
Y/N paused, looking up at him through her lashes. Katsuki’s longlasting crush throughout their entire friendship was never subtle. She, however, wasn't ready to trade her sandbox independence for cooties just yet.
"Married?" Y/N giggled, shaking her head. "I don’t think so.."
"I’ll be the tallest! And the strongest!" He spoke with confidence, his face turning a shade of red that rivaled his eyes.
"Hmm, maybe." Y/N said, smoothing out a mound of sand. "But when you’re a big strong man who can carry me, then maybe I’ll consider it one day. Until then, go play with your bugs."
Katsuki stood frozen as her challenge sank into his stubborn head. Without a word, he stomped over to shove the beetle into a bush and turned on his heel.
"Just you wait, Y/N! You’re gonna be eating those words!"
He stomped off to the grassy field where his other friends were huddled. Y/N didn't pay them much mind, humming as she returned to her important task of building a princess castle—one strictly free of twitchy bugs.
Ten minutes of peace passed. She was just finishing the moat when a rhythmic chanting drifted over from the grass.
"Seven! .. Eight! .. Nine! .. Come on, Bakugo!"
Y/N looked up, squinting against the sun. In the distance, she saw a small, spiky-haired figure face-down in the grass. Katsuki was shaking, his tiny five-year-old arms locked at the elbows as he struggled to lower himself.
"Ten!" The group of boys cheered.
Katsuki collapsed into the dirt, panting heavily, but he immediately scrambled back up into a plank position. Even from across the playground, Y/N could see the furious determination on his face.
Y/N smiled, patting the top of her sandcastle. "He's so weird." She whispered, though her eyes stayed glued to his struggle for one more push-up.
The neon lights of the city flickered against the damp pavement, casting long, shimmering shadows as Y/N and Katsuki walked their assigned route.
They moved with a synchronized rhythm that didn't require words—a silent language built over many years of shared snacks, scraped knees, and grueling training sessions.
"It’s too quiet." Katsuki grumbled with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his hero costume.
The orange glow of his gauntlets caught the light every time he shifted. "If one more civilian asks me for a selfie instead of getting robbed, I’m gonna lose it."
"A quiet night means people are safe. Isn't that the point of being a hero?"
"The point is to win." He countered. "Can't win if there's no one to fight."
"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Katsuki.." Y/N teased, nudging his armored shoulder with her own.
With a sharp Tch, Katsuki leaned into her shoulder for a heartbeat before correcting himself. They’d been doing this dance since they were in diapers—Katsuki charging forward with explosive heat, and Y/N acting as the steady ground he always returned to.
The city noise began to fade into a hum as they turned onto the arched stone bridge that spanned the Musutafu canal. Usually, the water was just a dark ribbon cutting through the concrete, but tonight, it was transformed.
Y/N stopped in her tracks, her breath catching. "Look!"
Below them, hundreds of paper lanterns drifted with the current, their golden flickers reflecting off the dark water like fallen stars.
The pink lotus flowers scattered among them caught the soft glow of the neon skyline. Further upstream, a festival was winding down, its remnants finally reaching the quiet corner of their route.
Katsuki stepped up to the railing beside her. He didn't grumble about 'villains' or 'patrolling' this time. He just leaned his elbows on the cool stone, his gaze fixed on the water.
"It’s actually.. Pretty." Y/N whispered, admiring the view.
"It’s a distraction." Katsuki muttered, though his voice lacked its usual bite. He glanced sideways at her, the golden light from the water dancing in his crimson eyes. "But I guess it’s not the worst thing to look at."
Y/N leaned further over the railing, her eyes wide as she traced the path of a particularly bright lantern bobbing through a cluster of pink lotuses.
The golden light played across her features, turning her skin to honey and casting a soft, ethereal glow into her eyes. To her, the river was a masterpiece—a rare moment of tranquility in a life usually defined by training and sirens.
"It’s like the stars fell into the water." She murmured, a small, genuine smile tugging at her lips. "I could stay here all night and just watch them drift."
She was so captivated by the shimmering view that she didn't notice the shift in him beside her. Katsuki wasn't looking at the water anymore.
He had completely turned away from the 'distraction' of the festival lights, with his back against the stone railing and his arms crossed over his chest.
His crimson eyes were locked only on her.
He watched the way the wind caught a piece of her hair and how her expression softened in a way she only allowed when she felt safe.
To him, the lanterns were just paper and fire, but the girl standing next to him—the girl who had meant everything to him since they were five years old—was the only thing in the city actually worth looking at.
"Yeah.." Katsuki cleared his throat, his voice dropping into a low tone that hummed with a rare kind of sincerity. "Best view in the whole damn city."
Y/N finally blinked, pulled out of her trance by the tone in his voice. She turned her head, expecting to see him pointing out a distant skyscraper or a hero billboard.
Instead, she found him staring directly at her with a soft, focused expression.
"You're not even looking at the river, Katsuki." She teased him, well-aware of how close he was standing next to her.
"I’ve seen enough water." A steady warm smirk formed on his face. "I’m looking at what I want. Same as always."
"Oh, Katsuki.." Y/N sighed, playfully rolling her eyes as she fixed her gaze back to the view of the lights.
She felt his stare and fought the heat rising in her face.
The silence stretched between them, comfortable and thick with a history that spanned over a decade. The lanterns shimmered in her eyes, yet she only felt the heat of his presence beside her.
"Still trying to pull that 'yuck' face?" Katsuki asked suddenly, his voice teasing but hushed.
Y/N chuckled, her eyes still on a floating lotus. "I think I grew out of that. Mostly because you stopped trying to give me bugs and started giving me headaches instead."
"Hey, don't pin that all on me." Katsuki let out a low groan, his lips twitching into a ghost of a smirk. "You're a pain in the ass, all the time."
"And you like this pain in the ass?" Her eyebrow arched as she tossed him a sarcastic question.
"Damn right." He answered without a second of hesitation.
Y/N shook her head, letting out a soft, disbelieving laugh huffing through her nose. "You really never give up, do you? You’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever met."
"Had to be." He muttered, his voice surprisingly steady. "If I wasn't, I wouldn't have kept up with you."
He shifted, his shoulder brushing hers as the heat of his hero suit radiated against her arm. The playfulness started to dissolve, replaced by a heavier, grounded tension.
"I've liked this pain in the ass since we were kids fighting over the same damn swing set." He spoke to the air between them.
Y/N’s lips curled into a faint smile, the memories of their childhood blurring together in her mind like the colors in the water.
"Every time I had gotten a new move or a higher score, I’d look at you and wonder if I was finally checking off your boxes. Spent my whole life becoming that big strong man you always wanted."
He looked down at his own hands—gloved, calloused, and capable of leveled-city-block power. "I can carry you and this whole damn city on my back if I had to."
"Oh, you know I didn't mean it." She began, her voice soft but steady. "We're not five anymore. I was just a little bit of a brat. Bugs and boys were gross back then, but you—you’ve always been the strongest man I've ever known."
A low, huffed laugh escaped his throat—a genuine sound that didn't hold a drop of his usual aggression.
"A brat? Yeah, no kidding." He looked up at the stars, a small smile starting to break through. "Always did have high standards, I'll give you that."
The memory seemed to amuse him more now than it had back then. The frustration of a five-year-old boy had matured into the deep, enduring devotion of a man.
"I used to get so damn mad." He confessed. "I’d just go off and do a hundred more push-ups. Figured if a bug wouldn't work, I’d just have to become more strong."
"I don't think you were able to do a hundred push-ups at the time, Katsuki." A soft laugh escaped her.
"Yeah, yeah.. Whatever.." He glanced at her for a second, looking at her with a warmth he usually hid.
"But you’re right. We're not five anymore, and I stopped bringing you bugs a long time ago."
She looked at him, seeing the way his eyes were stuck on her—as if the rest of the world had simply faded away.
Y/N knew that look in his eyes too well—she could pinpoint exactly what he was fighting to keep to himself.
He was holding back, to respect her boundaries, refusing to rush a single thing even after waiting over ten years for her to finally meet him halfway.
He was a grown man now, but his eyes held the same desperate hope of the five-year-old boy who’d catch bugs to impress her and trained his hardest to become a 'big strong man'.
"So, what's it gonna be?" He finally spoke up. "You gonna keep me waiting until we're retired, or are you gonna let me prove it right now?" He was smug about it, expecting the regular pull back that she'd always do.
"I don't know, Katsuki.." Her voice trailed off playfully. "You talk a big game. You've got the hero rank and the flashy quirk, sure. But these bridge railings are pretty high, and I’ve had a very long day of training. I'm practically dead weight."
"Are you sure you’re even able to pick me up?" She already knew the answer he’d proven a thousand times before.
The challenge was like fuel to a fire. In one swift, fluid motion, he stepped into her space.
Before she could even blink, his arm hooked securely behind her knees and his other hand stabilized her back, hoisting her up against his chest as if she weighed nothing.
Her breath hitched as she looked at him, the lantern light fading against the heat between them. "Okay, okay!" She was breathless now, her heart racing as she realized just how close they really were. "You're definitely the big, strong hero you said you'd be."
"Damn right I am." He muttered as he adjusted his grip, pulling her just a little bit closer. "And don't you forget it."
Looking into his fierce eyes she’d known her whole life, Y/N decided right then and there—the wait was over.
"If you had known better—"
She cut off his smug comment instantly, leaning in to press her lips against his in a firm, long-awaited kiss.
It was a bold, sudden move—completely unexpected. Katsuki, the boy who was always three steps ahead, was caught off guard.
His hands instinctively tightened around her in a panicked, protective grip just to make sure he didn't drop her.
The kiss held the weight of a lifetime. When she pulled away, her cheeks were nearly burning red—the exact shade of his eyes.
Katsuki stared at her, his mouth slightly agape with his usual scowl nowhere to be found. He looked dazed, his pupils blown wide as he processed their first kiss.
Y/N smiled widely, her soft laughter breaking the tension. Watching Katsuki—usually a storm of noise and confidence—reduced to a quiet, wide-eyed statue was the ultimate win.
"Earth to Katsuki!" Her voice was light and musical. "You still in there?"
She gave his bicep a soft, grounding pat—a quiet signal to put her down now that she’d completely wrecked his composure.
Reluctantly, and still moving like he was in a trance, Katsuki let her feet touch the ground. The second she was steady, Y/N smoothed out her hero suit and turned on her heel.
"Come on, big strong man!" She called over her shoulder, her ponytail swaying as she began to stroll back into the rhythm of their patrol route. "We still have three blocks to cover. We're supposed to be looking out for villains, remember?"
His hand flew up, his fingers pressing firmly against his mouth as if he were trying to physically keep the feeling of her lips from fading.
Katsuki silently followed behind her, his face a shade of red that wouldn't go away as his mind replayed the last ten seconds on a loop.
The softness, the scent of her, the way she had finally closed the gap—it was better than what he had ever imagined.
A long, jagged breath escaped him. He buried his shaking hand in his pocket, his mind a whirlwind as he spent the rest of the patrol replaying those few seconds over and over.
He finally secured the win he had been chasing for practically his entire life.
© katsukiib ʚ♡ɞ do not steal, edit, or copy my work! ♡
Seventeen then Twenty-seven
Pairing: former bestfriend!Keigo x reader
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.
©CursedKisss do not copy, steal, plagiarize, or feed my works into AI. I will send Shigaraki after you if you do.
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'wants to be friends'
ok but “what exactly does that mean to you” naruto..?
The way Naruto was behaving about Sasuke and not being around Sasuke was legitimately crazy like thinking about him and crying about him and just losing it constantly and being in physical pain that Sasuke isn’t safe like Sasuke not being around made Naruto suicidal and the only thing keeping him going was the possibility of retrieving him but when he realizes he’s the only one who wants Sasuke back he FREAKS OUT and only clears his mind and his entire demeanor changes once he realizes he can just die with him………like bro….thats like…………completely insane….
The difference between how he was acting before and after they clashed again and he said he’ll bear the brunt of his hatred and die with Sasuke is night and day bro…he was so clear headed in comparison
That’s kind of the difference between Naruto going on a rescue mission for Gaara and going Kyuubei Mode after Hinata got flipped like a pancake by Pain. It’s like… sure he’s willing to go all out to save a friend and do almost anything it takes, but he’s literally deciding to die with someone who is technically perfectly fine and making his own decisions.(“how do you know what’s good for me??” “That’s my OPINIOOOON!!!”). Like obviously he was in a bad situation but no one else from Konoha believed Sasuke was worth saving :(
The other two were not being villainized by others and were on the “right side” so obviously if he can do something about it he’ll go save them but what does that have to do with dying with them so no one can kill them before they’re taken away from him…like with Sasuke….bro. I can’t even articulate this exactly how I want it’s just utter madness
And how he’d go insane at the slightest bit of information or mention about Sasuke…
Sasuke didn’t even know the others were planning to kill him, Naruto knew this and said if they’re gonna kill him I’m gonna kill him and then die with him instead like Sasuke had no plans of dying 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
You cannot deny this man was off his fucking rocker about Sasuke. He was so unwell

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Bakugo at his prime. Mmm.
No cuz why is he so fineeeee
。‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧。⋆ ⋆。‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧。⋆ ⋆。‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧。⋆ ⋆。‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧。⋆ ⋆。‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧。
pairing; katsuki bakugo x fem! reader
rating; g for general audiences, no warnings! fluffy fluff <3
format / word count ; headcannons! / 1.3k
requested?; no! , but a part two was <3
synopsis; a brief peek into what I think it would be like being childhood best friends with katsuki <3
。‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧。⋆ ⋆。‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧。⋆ ⋆。‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧。⋆ ⋆。‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧。⋆ ⋆。‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧。
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 cannot stop thinking about childhood bestfriend!bakugo, who happens to be the son of your moms best friend, mitsuki!
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 bakugo takes after his mother both in his fiery temperament and explosive quirk, so i think it would have taken a little bit of time for him to even warm up to the idea of being friendly with you (not that he has much of a choice, his mother is dragging him along for play dates any chance she gets, using them as opportunities for wine and relaxation with her best friend)
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 its slow moving, but eventually bakugo does take to this idea of friendship with you, realizing you’re not nearly as annoying to be around as deku, or any of the other kids in your shared class (and also, his mother has drilled it into his head that the two of you will be friends no matter what, because she’s best friends with your mom LOL she don’t play)
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 i love this idea that the bakugo family doesn’t live too far from your own, so the tradition of you and katsuki walking to school together starts pretty early on
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 i also headcannon katsuki as someone who thrives on routine, and doesn’t do well with disruptions or changes to his day to day, so you can definitely count on him waiting for you a few steps away from the entrance of your house daily for school, sometimes even with a little snack his mom packed for him to give to you!
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 so you can already imagine on days where you can’t walk to school with him, like the times you’re stuck at home sick or end up coming to class a little bit later because of an appointment, his entire routine is thrown off 🤣
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 and he’s already planning on the complaints he’ll hit you with once you’re back to your regularly scheduled program!
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 the next morning after recovering from your 24 hour bug, you’re greeted by a grumbling bakugo, hand outstretched towards you with something spherical and orange in its palm
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 “a clementine.” he mutters. “my mom always makes me eat these after i get sick. she sent one for you.”
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 “tell your mommy i said thanks, kats.” you smile at him, taking it from his grasp.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 “whatever.” he rolls his eyes. “make sure you eat all of it. you keep getting sick, it’s annoying.”
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 and this behavior continues throughout the course of your friendship, through adolescence well into young adulthood
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 like, your friends in in class 1-A had definitely grown to understand that you and katsuki were somewhat of a packaged deal
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 it’s not like he ever had any real interest in what was going on, or who was going to be there besides you… more like your presence had become such an integral piece of his day to day life, the few times he didn’t come with, he found himself more irritated sitting at home without you as opposed to just sucking it up and joining you and your friends 😭
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 and that hasn’t changed any now that y’all are in college, if anything it’s only gotten worse
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 katsuki has a real soft spot for you, whether he, or you, realize it or not. other people have definitely noticed it though 🤣
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 he’s been carrying your school books and bag for you for as long as you can remember, definitely receiving a few odd looks from classmates on the first few days of class when he slings your messenger bag over his shoulder before leading the way out of the classroom
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 he even goes as far as carrying your purse for you when the two of you are out and about together LOL
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 “it doesn’t bother you carrying my purse with all my girly trinkets and keychains jingling while you walk?” you’d asked him with a giggle as the two of you exited one of your favorite coffee shops
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 “you think i give a damn what any of these extras think of me?” katsuki had answered your question with a question of his own
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢and he’s never stopped walking you to and from school, evolving to walking you to and from your classes when the time came
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 i think it definitely shocks a few of your newer friends to see bakugo posted up outside of your classroom, hands in his pockets with a bored expression on his face until you emerge out into the hall
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 his face shifts in the slightest of ways anytime he sees you, eyes softening and the corners of his mouth pulling into the most subtle of smiles as you approach him, arms outstretched towards him with your textbook for him to take off your hands
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 i think the friends the two of you met in 1-A still are a little shocked anytime they see the two of you interact, because it’s just such a stark difference from how he reacts to everyone else LMAO
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 well maybe everyone except izuku, who has had more than enough time to get used to the difference 🥲
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 this is what i mean when i say that bakugo has a soft spot for you whether either of you notice it or not, everyone else can see it
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 on one of the few occasions you find yourself separated from katsuki in the name of girl time with your gals, mina makes a joke about how you keep him on a tight leash and you’re like 👁️👁️ wha?
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 “come on (y/n), i mean he’s practically a completely different person whenever he’s with you.” mina continues
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 “even deku has mentioned bakugo’s much less prone to explosive outbursts when you’re around.” uraraka agrees
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 “really?” you ask. “huh, i guess i never noticed. he’s always been like that.”
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 “always been like that with you, maybe.” mina can’t help but laugh at your cluelessness. “i mean, he walked you over here, and told you to call him when you’re done so he can come walk you back to your dorm. are you sure he’s just your best friend, and not your boyfriend?”
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 and it’s certainly not the first time you’ve been asked this question by someone, the closeness between you and katsuki has definitely caused confusion on the status of your relationship in the past
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 and you guess it’s a little confusing for you too, sometimes; you’re not completely oblivious to the fact that you and katsuki might be a little closer than the typical best friend duo, but that’s just how the two of you are!
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 bakugo holds doors for you and holds your bag for you, insists on paying for your large extra sugary light brown whipped and frozen eight dollar coffee drinks, and never lets you walk home alone at night. the two of you have held hands in large crowds to keep from losing one another, and cuddle together pretty regularly on movie nights. you’ve even kissed him on the cheek a couple of times in thanks when the moment called for it (and katsuki had taken you by surprise one time by pressing his own lips to your cheek, pulling back with a smirk at the sight of your growing blush) but the two of you had never really gone any further than that, or even discussed what any of those things had meant for you!
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 and in bakugos mind, you’re his person. you’re the most important part of his routine, and he doesn’t plan on making any changes to it anytime soon. a stupid boyfriend label isn’t going to change how he feels or acts around you!
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 you’re his best friend in every sense of the word <3 and he takes his job very seriously :3
⋆。‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧。⋆⋆。‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧。⋆⋆。‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧。⋆
hiiiii! im makin good on my promise to post my first bnha work tonight before i go to sleep! honestly i dont love how this turned out but its been sitting in my drafts and in my MIND for the last month or so, i needed to get it out 🥲 i hope u enjoyed! im such a sucker for katsuki with a soft spot for his girl…. requests for short form works (blurbs, headcannons) are open right now, feel free to ask away<3
PART TWO <3 // PART THREE <3 // PART FOUR <3





