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bedsyandco · 8 months

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yours | Q. Hughes

note: I don't know what this is...it just happened. Quinn hughes x fem!reader, Quinn hughes x norris!sister. Takes place in summer '23. Reader is the same age as Jack.

summary: in which Josh's little sister goes to the Hughes Lake house with him, where two years ago Quinn and her had a one night stand.

cw: slight smut?🫣 allusions to sex, some touching...no actual sex

You sigh in relief when the car finally pulls into the driveway of the lakehouse. It wasn’t that long of a trip but it was extremely hot and you didn’t want to be stuffed in the car longer than you needed to. A small smile forms on your face as you set your eyes on the familiar house. You hadn’t been here the last two years but when Josh heard you didn’t have any plans this summer, he insisted you come along.

“I’m gonna unload our stuff, mind going inside and getting Quinn to come help me…” your brother says and you agree.

As soon as you walk into the house you’re met with various forms of greetings.

“Little Josh!” says Trevor

“The prodigal daughter returns,” from Jack

“Welcome home,” says Cole

“Look who it is, the little traitor herself,” Quinn says and that’s the only greeting you reply to.

“You’re still calling me that?”

“Are you still going to Ohio State?” he replies

“No actually, I just graduated, remember?” you ask knowing the answer. Quinn had sent you flowers as congratulations, so of course he remembers.

“That’s even worse, graduating from there. Actually I don’t know if I can allow you to stay here anymore,” he says and you hit him on the arm as he laughs. Quinn didn’t smile often, so each time he laughed at something you said or did, you got this proud little feeling in your gut. You earned that smile.

He pulls you into his chest, squeezing tight, and your eyes close as you inhale his familiar scent. Jack, Trevor and Cole all exchange awkward glances when a solid two minutes goes by and you guys are still hugging.

“Are we all getting hugs, or are those reserved for huggy bear only?” Trevor teases and you and Quinn break apart from your hug, his hands lingering on your waist as you move to pull the other guys into much shorter hugs.

“Where’s Luke?” you ask, noting his absence.

"We sent him, Dylan and Tyler to the store," Quinn says

"You trusted them to get everything you needed?" you ask amused

"It's better than sending those three," Quinn says referring to Jack, Trevor and Cole, who all look very offended and you laugh.

"Thanks for sending Quinn out to help me," Josh says dryly, walking in with 4 bags in his hands, and you wince.

"Sorry, I got distracted," you reply apologetically.

"You know where your room is, give me her bags and I'll take them to hers," Quinn says to Josh who hands him your bags.

You follow Quinn up the stairs, and linger awkwardly by the entrance of the room. Your gaze lands on the bed and instantly flashbacks appear of when you were last in this room.

"God, you feel so fucking good."

"Open your legs for me, baby. I wanna see you."

"Don't close your eyes. Look at me."

Your cheeks heat up and you swallow thickly before looking back at Quinn who just gives you a little smirk, knowing that you're also thinking about that night. The next morning you both agreed to forget it ever happened, but it was the best sex you've ever had and you'd be lying if you said you haven't thought about it constantly over the past 2 years.

"What?" You ask when you find him staring at you.

"I just didn't realise how much I missed you." he says

"I missed you too,"

"You wouldn't have had to miss me if you hadn't been avoiding me for two years," he says

"I haven't been avoiding you, I was just busy," you argue

"Either way, I'm glad you're here," he says and lays a kiss on your head before exiting the room.

You take a deep breath before laying on the bed and staring at the ceiling. You had hoped that your crush on your brother's best friend would have faded at least a little by now, but it's still the same, if not worse.

☆

A few days later you and the guys were out on the boat. Quinn was steering while the rest of the guys were wake surfing.

You could feel Quinn's eyes on you as you spoke to Tyler.

"I'm so glad you're here, I would've actually feared for my life if I was here alone with all these Michigan guys," you say and Tyler chuckles with a little wince.

"Yeah…I transferred to Michigan, remember?" he asks

"Oh my God…I totally forgot. Now I wish I had gone to Michigan instead,"you say bummed that everyone had gone there except you. Well and Jack, Trevor and Cole but it's not like you were trying to follow in their footsteps.

"I was so heartbroken that you graduated, I needed a change of scenery, you know?" Tyler says with a little grin and you shake your head. He was such a shameless flirt.

"Sure."

"I for one am glad you didn't go to Michigan," Tyler says

"Why's that?" you ask

"Cause red is definitely your colour," he says, dragging his gaze up and down your body that is clad in a red bikini.

"Tyler, you're up!" Quinn barks at him and walks over, handing you his hoodie.

"Thanks" you say, putting it on and he just nods.

☆

That night you were laying in bed, unable to sleep, when the bedroom door opened.

"Quinn? What are you doing here?" you ask

"I couldn't sleep, I kept thinking about…tell me you didn't sleep with him." Quinn says a little erratically and you stand up to make your way over to him, clad in only a T Shirt, his shirt, and panties.

"Sleep with who?" you ask confused

"Tyler" he grits out

"What? No, of course not," you say appalled that he would even think that, and he lets out a relieved sigh.

"Are you jealous?" you ask a little amused and Quinn glares at you.

"It's not funny," Quinn says and your eyes widen slightly.

"You are jealous. You have no reason to be jealous, Quinn. I'm not yours, and we're not together." you say and his jaw clenches.

He steps closer, lifting the hem of your shirt and putting one hand on your bare waist, pulling you closer to him. The other hand delves into your hair, tipping your head back as Quinn lowers his mouth to yours, lightly dragging his lips over yours in a whisper of a kiss before moving down laying open mouth kisses on your neck. You shudder when he sucks on a particular sensitive spot, knowing it will leave a mark.

"Quinn," you gasp

"No one else can make you feel like this and no one else touches you like I do. We may not be together but we both know you're mine." he says and moves the hand on your waist upwards to cup your breast, lightly running his thumb over your nipple, hardening it and you whimper.

"Please," you say and he smirks

"Please what?"

"Please touch me," you beg

"You have to say it first baby," he says and you whine knowing what he wants.

"I'm yours, all yours, only yours. Now please touch me," you say

Quinn takes off his clothes, leaving him in only his boxers before removing your shirt, picking you up and carrying you to the bed, gently laying you down.

"You have to be quiet, okay? As much as I'd love for Tyler to hear how good I make you feel, we don't want Josh to hear…right?" Quinn asks laying kisses from your breasts down to your stomach and you nod.

"Words baby," he says

"I'll be quiet," you say and he smiles

"Good girl," he says.

☆

The next morning you leave Quinn in your bed, and make your way downstairs to the kitchen, where you find Jack, Luke and Trevor sitting at the counter, whispering quietly.

"Morning," you say

"Morning," Jack replies

"Sleep well?" Luke asks with a little smile.

"Yeah, I slept great,"

"I bet you did," Trevor says with a smirk but before you can ask Quinn enters the room.

"How did you sleep Quinn?" Trevor asks

"I slept great, better than I have in a while," he says looking at you.

Trevor, Jack and Luke all exchange amused looks. Maybe you weren't as quiet as you thought last night

Before you can interrogate them, Josh enters the room, grumbling a "good morning" and making his way to the coffee machine.

"What the fuck is that?" Josh yells, striding over to you and moving your hair to the side, bending your neck in an awkward position, inspecting the hickey on your neck.

"Ow! Josh!" you exclaim swatting his hands away,

"Which one of you fuckers did it? Trevor?" Josh asks threateningly and Trevor holds his hands up.

"It wasn't me I swear. I mean I wish it was, but it wasn't." he says and both Quinn and Josh glare at him.

"Tyler!" Josh yells, running up the stairs to Tyler's room, making the same assumption Quinn almost did yesterday,

"Are you guys gonna come clean or are you gonna let him kill Tyler?" Luke asks

"Nah, we'll wait a little." Quinn says and you smile, knowing it's Quinn's way of making Tyler pay for flirting with you yesterday.

"Wanna go get breakfast?" You ask Quinn, not wanting to be here when Josh eventually connects the dots.

"Absolutely," Quinn says, grabbing the keys.

#⇢ ˗ˏˋ 📂 bedsyandco works!#⇢ ˗ˏˋ 📜 cam's fics #hockey fic #nhl fic #hockey blurb #hockey imagine #nhl blurb #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x y/n #🌶

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justc2world · 3 months

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I want carlos sainz merch 🙏🏼

#the chilli hat 🌶#carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz #scuderia ferrari #f1 #formula 1

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inabluedr3am · 2 years

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almost shouldn’t be free 🫣

#me #selfie #thicc #body positive #spicy accountant #🌶#🥵

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starbow-dreams · 2 months

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Small Shane... 🌶 🍺🐔

#stardew valley fanart #stardew valley #stardew valley shane #stardew shane #🌶#my art

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evesoup · 1 year

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⚠️WARNING⚠️ SPICY ART

🌶️ spicy art warning! 🌶️ view with caution 😉

I felt like drawing something kinda spicy and hot. I feel real embarrassed posting this ngl 😆Tumblr please don’t get mad at me for this 🤭 view with your own risk! There is mature content here!

Some ship stuff because why not

Enjoy~ 😉😘

AHH GOTCHU HORNY ASS AHH 🫵😂

You wanted to see men kissing, didn’t you

April Fools!

#bungo stray dogs #bsd #bsd skk #bsd sskk #bsd smut #bsd fyolai #bsd fyozai #bsd suegiku #skk #sskk #fyolai #fyozai #suegiku #ranpoe #my art #lmao #I’m so funny #doodle #spice 🌶

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tastelikechili · 21 days

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EXCUSE ME, SIR???

#SIR #EXCUSE ME SIR #taste like chili alright #my spicy spicy man #🌶#show me what them fingers do chili #carlos sainz #cs55

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gallawitchxx · 1 month

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🌶 SOUTHSIDE SPICE (AO3) 🌶

put 'em up (9/?)

#*shrugs*#i hope tumblr lets me keep this one up!#southside spice 🌶#shameless #shameless fan art #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #bee makes art 🐝🎨

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orengesz · 9 months

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God tier shit.

Bestie sent me this one. Og poster, I know you're out there somewhere.

#carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz #carlos sainz junior #ferrari f1 #scuderia ferrari #charles leclerc #charles lecrelc #charlos #He's so fine #Fine specimen #One of a kind kind of man #Ngl I can't get over the way his clothes fit him though #His body is so fine #In clothes out of clothes #Ugghhhh wtf #carlos sainz 🌶#F1 chili

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widowbitessting · 9 months

Note

Hair pulling

-💭

💋Sugar Mommies Spicy Hour - A One Off Drabble🌶💋 18+ Only. Minors shoo. 18+ Only. Minors shoo.

Screw it you all deserve something.

All.

Three.

Of.

Them.

Including Baby.

There is just something so..primal...that each of the Trio! (and Baby) just adore about it.

Natasha, Carol and Wanda adore to be the ones pulling and yanking their darling's hair - be it in the bedroom (or anywhere they have you) during sex or at random parts throughout the day...just to cause a reaction...the sweet gasp…

Natasha loves to have you bent on all fours before her, strap burrowed into your tight pussy as she pounds into you - hands clenched into tight fists in your hair for leverage.

Carol loves to yank your head back, when she's spanking your ass red after being a brat for the better part of her day off work. Your body over her lap, ass adorned in expensive underwear, ass cheek adorned red from her hand. Your hair a mess around her fingers.

Wanda loves both, for obvious reasons. She loves that you're her first submissive that trusts her enough to explore her more dominant side; and one of her firm favourites is hair pulling. Now don't get me wrong - Wanda loves to pull your hair when she's fucking you or discipling you - but her favourite way is teasing. She sits you down for a film night, just the two of you; all cosy under a blanket with snacks and wine (and water) on the coffee table, a film of her choosing playing on the screen before you when suddenly, things in the film get a little more...steamy. And this is when her interest falls to you...watching you intently as you take in what's happening...the moans and the way a hand curls around someone's throat...you're mesmerised and unable to look away; even as your cheeks blush a lovely colour of red and your teeth sink their way into your bottom lip. When someone has their ponytail yanked, you all but stop breathing, and this is what makes Wanda smile. She twirls her hair casually, moving her other hand to rest on your lap which causes you to jerk. After a quick and meek apology, you find it hard to go back into the trance of the film. Wanda would wait though, until things cool down enough for you to let your guard down before her hand slips up into your hair and she pulls you close to her, grinning a toothy smile when you let out a incomprehensible stream of words as the shock overcomes you. "Enjoying the film, pet?"

But Wanda also loves to have her hair grabbed too...loves it when Natasha man handles her so roughly with only one hand in her hair and exposes her neck, just for the red head's teeth to sink into and mark it up. Or when Carol snatches her ponytail when she saunters past and slams her into the wall, whispering dirty secrets in Wanda’s ear. Wanda adores it, but she loves pulling your hair too.

Baby loves to have her hair pulled. It really isn’t a secret by the point. A small tug here; a painful yank there. She. Loves. It. But she also likes to pull hair. To get a reaction from her beloved girlfriends. Wanda is always 50/50; either a delayed reaction with fluttering eyes before she pounces or straight up trouble the second Baby tries. Carol will often goad Baby into trying to grab her hair, taunting her until her precious little sub snaps. And when she does? Oh Carol enjoys reminding her who is in charge. Now Natasha, Baby has only ever tried to pull her hair once. The second her fingers gave the slightest tug in the silky red locks, Natasha’s hand is on her wrist and she glowers at Baby; watching as the panic fills her eyes. Natasha’s fingers latch into your hair (or maybe around your neck, seeing as you pissed her off enough) before growling out; “You’re gonna regret that.”

#natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #carol danvers #reader insert #sugar mommies #natasha x wanda x carol x reader #smu #sugar mommies!asks #sugar mommies spicy hour #sugar mommies spicy hour 🌶#spiderbites #no minors allowed #18 plus only

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takami-takami · 7 months

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Like Animals.

kinktober day 4: sex pollen.

includes— hawks x reader. minors dni. smut

warnings— afab!reader. dubcon (sex pollen/heats, but both have been pining like idiots). breeding if you squint.

keigo's beloved crush sidekick gets hit with the unluckiest quirk possible. he quickly discovers his rut suppressants ain't shit.

Through all the horrors and adverse life events Keigo has endured in this line of work— brutal near-assassinations, negotiations with international crime syndicates, purchasing sugar-free canned coffee with Splenda substitute by mistake before his morning shift— he has always been able to find a silver lining in the darkest of moments.

Which makes it infinitely more concerning that for the first time in his life, he nearly whines through his teeth the words, "why me?"

A palm drags once down his face, thumb and index finger pulling down his darkened eye bags. His hand collects the beads of sweat and stops to rest over his mouth.

He supposes this must be his penance for taking a risk and trusting faulty intel.

Keigo's informant told him the villain he and his darling sidekick were meeting would have a limited-ranged fire quirk, so the diligent hero stuffed ointment and cold packs in his pockets before leaving just in case.

If he had known the villain was a plant heteromorph and possessed a heat-inducing mist quirk instead, and that the person he was hopelessly in love with had a bit of a crush on would be caught in the direct line of fire?

He would have brought a paper bag to hyperventilate into instead. And some prayer beads. The god to which the prayer is delivered doesn't necessarily matter, he thinks. He'd simply pick one and drop to his knees in a bid for mercy.

"I'm taking you to a medic," Keigo puts his foot down for the fourth time this evening.

"Fuck no," you groan from the couch, shifting to squeeze your thighs together. It offers not even a modicum of relief from the incessant throb. "Do you want my cause of death to be humiliation? Is that your plan, genius? 'S bad enough as it is that you're here."

The subtext is unspoken, but clear to him through your adorable pout: I only trust you to see me like this.

It's unlucky that the man you've had the most innapropriate-for-work crush on for the better part of two years happened to be the one beside you that day. And it's just your sorry luck, you lament, that Keigo would also be the one to catch you, to fly you home cradled in his painfully capable arms, to refuse to leave your side and insist on making his favorite chicken soup for you in a desperate flail of support.

He'd respect your decision and leave, should you ask him to. You know that. And yet the humbling truth gnaws at your pride: doing so wouldn't do much to save your image at this point. He’s already seen you like this, you grumble. The proverbial cat has long since escaped the bag, waltzing its way over to rub its purring body against Keigo’s leg to your abject horror.

If you close your eyes, you can attempt to trick your brain into thinking this affliction is a flu of some kind.

Yes, this is just some common cold. You're wearing nothing but your work partner's shirt (your clothes were contaminated by the quirk's dust, Keigo explained, speaking in that strict work mode voice that makes you picture your mouth stuffed and drooling somewhere beneath his desk and between his spread legs). You pull the damned fabric down over your core as you try your hardest to not writhe in fits of pleasure underneath the blankets, rubbing your thighs together for any friction against your swollen clit.

All symptoms of an affliction of the flu, of course.

You don't need to reach down and touch to know the slick would string those thighs together, should you attempt to pull them apart.

Keigo knows that, too. But he doesn't say anything about it.

You would be mortified if you were aware of the truth.

That he knows everything.

Keigo knows exactly how you ache; like you're constantly on the precipice of an orgasm, perpetually ablaze from the heavy heat scorching your body from its surface to the boiling core.

You try to suppress your glee as he spoon feeds you the broth, reminding yourself that this is just what good friends do for each other.

Friends coo praises at each other when they swallow, friends tilt each other's chins up with one finger and mutter things like that’s a good dove and you can take another as they watch their throat bob in tandem.

Friends shiver from their wingtips down their spine when they pull the spoon back. They let their gaze linger for just a second on those lips that open wide, aching to touch.

Ever the gentleman, Keigo stays lowered to his haunches and places one hand over your forehead to check for a fever, redirecting his focus toward taking inventory of your vitals. He doesn't wince when he hears your moan at the contact, even though the pitiful sound pings at his weak points. His avian instincts remind him he needs to protect you, please you, take care of you; to make it go away, to fix that feeling he knows better than anyone is aching like a bruise between your thighs.

He doesn't allow his eyes to wander astray or trail their way downwards, especially when you're in such a vulnerable state; but his professional assessment is that if he could only wet his appetite, the flat of his tongue alone could—

He shakes his head and blows a puff to cool the soup, raising another spoonful to your lips.

"Here. Another. You need to keep your energy up," he reminds you, voice stern. It's nearly clinical and achieves the opposite of its desired effect.

Your heart rate picks up to thump at a steady, thrumming beat at the innocuous gesture of domesticity.

How have you never noticed how capable of a mate Keigo would be…? He’s all musculature and sincerity, sharp ridges at his knuckles and soft curves at the small of his waist where he only trusts you to touch.

You huff an involuntary moan.

He picks another god to praise that the couch you're laying on obscures his lower half.

Today, Keigo discovers his suppressants are only designed to reduce the chance of a rut being triggered. It brings the possibility of it starting in the first place to a comfortable near-zero, allowing him to carry out the spring and fall seasons as if he were entirely quirkless.

But if that rut passes through the blockers' biochemistry in, say, the event Keigo's luck rears its ugly head, for example… It does fuck all to reduce the actual symptoms.

More importantly than his own anguish, however, is this: his mate work partner got hurt because of him— hurt being a stretch, he'd know if he weren't overthinking so much, given the blissed out panting just two feet away from him; but you’re probably suffering and it's all his fault. It’s all because of an unlucky, once in a lifetime slip up from Keigo Takami himself, and he can't detangle himself from the guilt.

If drowning in the unexpected whirlpool that is his first rut in half a decade is his penance for the crime, then Keigo will hang his head and take it.

The huff he lets out is your last straw.

"I'm going to my room," you state, moving to leave like you left the stove on and are trying to avoid an upcoming house fire.

When his hand darts out to stop you, the touch against your shoulder sends shockwaves down your stomach.

He's touching you. He's taking such good care of you, feeding you, providing for you in his nest and now he's touching you?

It sends your hormones into overdrive.

You'd do well to conceal it, if his heightened instincts couldn't smell your desperation.

"I'm afraid it ain't that easy, dove," he warns, eye contact averted. "I'd avoid doing that, if I were you."

Keigo schools his expression, but not before you catch a flash of something hungry.

There's no chance in hell he's letting you out of his sight. Not like this. You're confined to the couch while he keeps an eye on you. Attempting to fix it yourself will only make the feeling unfathomably worse, something he tries to communicate to you with a look that only ends up making him look like a kicked puppy.

You squint right back when you process the implication of his words, eyes raking down his form in suspicion.

"How do you know all this, anyway," you ask.

Keigo goes silent, hand concealing his mouth.

Ah, it hits you.

Bird things.

Your head falls back against one of the numerous pillows your partner propped up behind you.

"The couch is soft," you murmur, situating yourself against the cushions and throw blankets he so carefully arranged. You trail your fingertips along a silk pillow. Keigo slams his eyes shut.

"Please don't say it like that."

"Why not?" Your lids droop, heat overtaking your better judgement. Tentatively, you play along the bounds. You allow your hands to run along the soft divots of the blanket covering your body, squeezing your chest and pinching the peaks. "It's like a little nest, isn't it?"

His hand drags down his face before pinching his nose bridge, suppressing a whine. "Baby, please—"

"You don't wanna join me?"

"You don't know what you're talking about. It's just the heat," Keigo tells himself more than you. "For the love of God, dove, stop talking—"

"But it hurts, Kei'." It’s a low blow, judging by the protective coo that escapes his lips.

Fed up, he leans forward and swings his right leg over your hip, crawling atop you as if his body has a mind of its own, utterly bogged by desire and yanked like puppet strings.

With him kneeling tall above you, the bodysuit of his hero costume hides absolutely nothing. The musculature is quite impressive, actually. Proof of his viability as a mate— all dominant and masculine and gorgeous.

And at this angle, you can see the most painful erection straining against his pants.

"I need you, Kei'. I need— mmph!"

A palm silences you; slapped down, hot, imposing, and heavy like a weight against your mouth.

The authority of the action makes your cunt clench; and Keigo would die before he lets that feeling go to waste, so his hips drop down to grind once against it.

Your eyes go wide, doughy and stunned, darting down in haste, following the trail of his thick bicep up toward the disciplinary scowl on his face.

His nostrils flare with the heaving in his chest, eyes screwed shut with his last slivers of patience holding its grip on his psyche.

"One more word," he says, pulling his hand away. "One more word and I'm ripping this blanket off and fucking you raw."

After a moment of silence, you speak.

"Please."

Keigo is wordless when he unbuckles his belt and lets it— and his inhibitions— drop with a satisfying clink.

The reality of what you've gotten yourself into comes crashing down as it hits you how utterly fucked you are. The scaffolding of years of sexual tension comes crumbling down like bricks to rubble, a city of restraint reduced to pure, animalistic desire.

Years of Keigo's eyes darting away when you nonchalantly change into your uniform in front of him, even though he never seemed bothered by any of his other peers doing the same; years of you both curling in on yourselves at the furthest edges of the bed you had to share, cramped close in those under-the-radar motels on stealth missions; years of the words "idiot, can I kiss you," held back by your lips as you watch him moan when he sinks his teeth into his comfort restaurant's chicken teriyaki every stupid Friday night, sitting cross-legged and at home on the carpet of your apartment floor.

Not a single word is exchanged as he pulls his cock free from its confines, nearly too thick for his fingers to meet when they wrap around it. He tosses the blanket to the side with haste, dragging your shirt (his shirt) up to your collar, exposing your chest when he lines his cock with your entrance.

"Please, Kei'," you sniffle. "Hurts."

"Oh, I know, baby... I know." His lips are pursed when he shushes you, tracing your cheek with his palm. "I'll make it go away."

When your lips meet, it's like static electricity; and it's entirely remorseless.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he groans against your mouth, dragging his length along your sticky thighs before plopping the thick of it atop your soaked cunt.

"So wet for me," he reveres, dragging the plump tip through your mess to get it slick enough to rub against your clit.

Your rutting hips buck with impatience in an attempt to glide his length against your swollen pussy, but that only serves to fuel his desire; and those desperate little whines only feed into his insatiable need to fuck, to breed you until you're silent.

Until you shut the fuck up.

Those pathetic little sounds are music to his ears, a siren's song that used to play only in his most shameful fantasies; the ones that kept his fist tight around his cock the moment he returned home after missions, the sight of you panting and spitting blood after battle with a smile on your face still fresh in his memory.

Keigo wants to hear you moan.

But his rut needs to fuck you wordless with satisfaction.

"Oh, fuck," he hitches, shifting his hips back and forth to the tune of the audible shlicks below. Unable to stay upright any longer, his chest falls flush into yours in a rut-afflicted haze, rutting against you like animals.

When he slips his cock inside, it's with a kiss to muffle his voice.

And he wastes no time setting a punishing pace, aided nicely by the slickness that coats the sides of his cock. The legs of the couch surely must be scraping indents into the floorboards, judging by the creaks that mingle with the sounds of his belt buckle at every thrust. You'd notice if either of you were lucid enough to care.

It's a brief consideration of a possibility of an afterthought, like a sheepish voice behind a roaring crowd.

Pulling out, that is.

Yeah, if he were a stronger man, he could probably will his hips to stall. There's a chance someone far stronger than him would hiss when he does it. His cock would weep in denial of that sweet, velvet entanglement, dripping out in the cold when he fists himself to completion mere inches away from what might as well be the center of his goddamn universe.

But when it comes to you, when it comes to his rut, Keigo is not a strong man.

He allows his cock to throb in the vice of your cunt, instead.

"God, baby," he moans into your neck, wings flapping once, twice with each thrust, shedding a few feathers before straightening out and grazing the ceiling behind his back. "Baby. Oh, baby. You're so tight. You're so— fuck!"

He's babbling, but so are you. Legs hooked across the small of his back, you bump your hips as best you can to aid in his efforts; and with your last shreds of lucidity, you decide for the both of you how things will end.

With watery lashes, you open your eyes enough to blink away some tears and clear your vision just enough. Your gaze crawls up his legs that are still clothed to the thighs, peeking over the curvature of his ass and up his shuddering spine— all to mark onto your scarlet red prize.

When you entangle your fingers into the downy feathers at the base of his wings, it shoots straight to his cock and he spills.

With eyes wide open and a strangled choke at the back of his throat, Keigo's hips stutter when he empties himself. With every throb comes another rope from the tip, sticky and excessive from the rut, mixing with your wetness as you crash over the edge soon after.

When the ringing in your ears ceases and you finally come to, it's to the sight of your now probably-more-than-a-work-partner pulling out and staring between your legs as if under a trance, eyes glimmering.

"Kei', you okay?"

"Uh huh," he answers absentmindedly, utterly transfixed on the mess he made.

It's strange, he thinks. Whatever urges his rut transcribed into cravings, every instinct that tugged at the avian etched in his DNA and called him to fill you pales in comparison to the satisfaction of having indulged himself at last.

His eyes flick back to meet yours.

"Does this mean I can kiss you at work now?"

You snort. So that's where his mind goes in the end.

"It means a whole lot more than that," you say, rolling you both over so he lands square on his back.

#sorry i made jesus canon in this fic. I had to have him say it. Okay bye!#i know his quirk doesnt work like that its not an animal quirk but shhhhhh im having fun #🖋 writing #🌶 spice #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #bnha x reader #mha thirst #mha x reader #bnha thirst #smut #x reader

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