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#boku no hero academia x you
angelltheninth · 3 months
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From those cute flirting prompts can I order a 52 with Hawks?
You can order anything with Hawks honestly. I love the big bird man.
Pairing: Keigo Takami/Hawks x Fem!Reader
Tags: fluff, established relationship, jealousy, reassurance, soothing kisses, flying, ruined date night
Word count: 0.5k
Ao3
A/N: I'd be mad too if my date night with Hawks got ruined.
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52. "It's you. It's only ever going to be you."
Dating the number two hero was always gonna come with challenges. But come on, you can't even go on one date without being interrupted at some point. You can deal with even that but the one thing you can't stand is people flirting with your boyfriend right in front of you no less.
Your hands are tight on his suit jacket, you're glaring at the group of his fans that ask questions and throw in the occasional flirting remark his way. And still they don't leave.
"Ah, please everyone, calm down. As much as I love my fans, I'm here on a date." It was like you were invisible until Keigo gestured towards you. Knowing that only caused you to shrink further into his side. "And we happen to be late. So excuse us." Keigo lifted you bridal style and with one flap of his wings you were in the air, away from the still persistent fans. "Much better. Should have gone with this right away rather then walking there."
Keigo smiled down at you but you couldn't return it. It would be fake, he would see right through it. Instead you curled into him as close as you could.
"Shit, are you cold up here? I should've given you my jacket before taking off. And you're wearing that dress too, I'm sorry for not thinking." He was quicker to apologize and kiss your forehead then you were to explain yourself, which did ease some of your worries.
"Some of those women were very pretty." You said as casually as possible.
"Huh? Er, I guess?" Keigo narrowed his eyes at you, noticing you chewing your cheek. "Not prettier then you. Not to me at least."
"Keigo..."
"No, I'm serious." He pulled you closer, his hands warming up the areas where they touched, "Listen, I'm with you aren't I? Everyone says that the Number Two Hero can have anyone right? Well I have you. It's you. It's only ever going to be you. I don't care what kind of words anyone else throws at me or how they look." His voice carried far in the noiseless sky. "I love you. You're the only girl for me."
You were about to reply when he suddenly paused, "Keigo, we're gonna be late." He smirked at you and started floating a bit lower, "Keigo? What are you doing?"
He didn't answer. You were lower now, low enough to be visible to the people walking down on the streets. Keigo took a deep breath, "I love my girlfriend! She's so nice and smart and funny and hot! She makes me really happy!" Your face exploded with heat as you listened to him shout at the top of his lungs, catching everyone's attention, some people even took out their phones to record.
"Oh my god. Fine, I get it, we can go now!" You buried your face in his shoulder but he lingered there for a few more moments before flying you in the direction of the restaurant. By the time you got there the clip of his confession was already all over the internet. "For the record, I love you too. You goofball."
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4izawas · 5 months
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╰─▸ ❝ 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐙𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒! ❞ ──── 𝐟𝐭. 𝐬. 𝐚𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐰𝐚.
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𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: “If I see that stupid bitch touch you again, I’ll kill her,” you growl, then yelp when he suddenly flips you, your chest and cheek against brick and his chest to your back. // “If she ever pulls that shit again, I’ll let you.”
𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦: my hero academia | 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: shouta aizawa/f!reader | 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: nsfw ; minors dni | 𝐰/𝐜: 9.30k.
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: age gap, previously established relationship, jealousy, canon typical harrassment, heavy miss joke bashing, death threats, fem reader, villain reader, possessive reader, reader is just a bad person chat idk what else u want me to say, discussions of trauma ( but aizawa refuses to call it that ), morally ambiguous aizawa, ngl he’s also not a great person but he’s hot so it’s okay, villain/hero, femdom, maledom, teasing, biting, nipple sucking, oral sex, slight choking, switch reader, switch aizawa, dacryphilia, fingering, pussy slapping, tit slapping, spitting, creampies, daddy kink, marking, hickeys, also a cat, tko = tofu knockout, class 1-a are little shits.
𝐚 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐜𝐚𝐬: kinktober fourrrr !! hnngggg aizawa is always a must <33 and ngl? fucking hate miss joke so we gon bash <3
— 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐞 !!
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“C’mon, Eraser, just one date! Just one!”
“No means no, Joke — we’re in the middle of a fucking job, so leave me alone and do your part,” Shouta mutters just loud enough flr her to hear with nothing short of sheer annoyance in his voice as he overlooks the streets and back alleys surrounding a building in east Fukuoka just past midnight that night. The Smile Hero, Miss Joke, stood at his right shoulder; due to a necessary team up at the request of the Commission upon Hawks’ request for backup to assist in breaking up a newly discovered human trafficking ring, the duo were paired up and sent to the rooftops for out-of-sight assistance, where Eraserhead could use his quirk without the risk of interruption as the team below entered the building. 
Well. Almost without that risk. 
“Oh, don’t be that way, Eraser, at this point us meeting up all the time’s gotta be fate!” she laughs quietly, grinning brightly at him. He grumbles a little to himself, but doesn’t turn away from where he was glancing around below for any threats that could potentially fall upon the strike team moving through the halls of the building, their locations revealed by the large windows.
More of Joke’s chatter drones on in his ears, and Shouta fights off the annoyed growl that threatened to escape him; why couldn’t it have been Hizashi he was paired with so he’d have backup? At least Hizashi knew how to be quiet and professional, what with his hero persona just being a face for the public — and it wasn’t as if Miss Joke didn’t know how to do her job, she actually did it very well, she just ceased to properly function whenever he was a part of the picture for some reason. Hizashi and Nemuri had both thought it was funny at first, but that was years ago, before it had become an actual problem. 
Shouta tenses up when an overly-familiar hand squeezes his shoulder, and he grits his teeth. “Stop touching me,” he snaps lowly. “For God’s sake, Joke, be fucking professional.”
Miss Joke sighs. “I never see you outside of the rare team up for work, Eraser, what do you expect?”
“I expect you to keep your hands to yourself and for you to do your job,” he says coldly, shaking off her hand. She sighs again, this time in a more dramatic way. 
“Nothing’s gonna happen up here!” She mutters, “We’ve been up here for an hour. They aren’t going to patrol this area, and if they weren’t we should have moved.”
“This is the best vantage point for me to see as much of the building as possible,” he replies, silently relieved that she’s actually discussing the job and not some aspect of his body. 
A groan follows his words, and then a startled curse. He turns in time to catch sight of her grappling with a much larger man with a fly mutation quirk, something he couldn’t cancel. Spitting out a curse of his own under his breath, he leaps into the fray to help as three more men starm the roof. “Neither of you should be up here!” One snarls. “This is private property — you’re trespassing.”
“Shut up,” is all Shouta says, and the fight starts. He leaves Joke to the man with the fly quirk and takes on two of the three other men, the third standing back and watching as Shouta doles out his fair share of bruises while receiving plenty of his own. Once he’s almost completely handled his pair, he sees the third guy make his move from the corner of his eye, his musculature growing as he activates his quirk. Activating his own, Shouta turns his body to brace for the impending impact that would come with the guy jumping at him. A low grunt escapes him as the air is knocked out of him, and as he locks eyes with his new opponent he distantly hears Joke let out an angry shriek after likely taking a particularly harsh hit. One of the guys Shouta had been fighting had abandoned him to go join the fly guy in fighting Joke, so she likely had her own hands full and wouldn’t be able to help in any way — not that he needed it. The only really talented fighter out of the four enemies on the roof was the last man to join the fray, and Shouta could handle him. With a few skillful throws of his capture weapon, Shouta’s more or less finished up his end of the fight. 
A sharp cry from Miss  Joke practically yanks his attention from his opponent so he can look at her, and he finds her on her back against the roof with one of the men with their thick hands around her throat; she’s clearly struggling to breathe. The other man is unconscious, but unbound. A tiny shot of worry races through Shouta’s veins. 
The brief moment that he’d looked away was more than enough for the unnamed enemy to re-engage his strength quirk, and the man burst from the slightly loosened confines of Shouta’s scarf, throwing his entire weight at him. With a surprised shout, he’s thrown faster than he’d expected over to Joke. The man on top of her leaps to the side just before Shouta slams into her, and for a moment the world turns end over end before they’re falling from the roof of the ten story building. 
It takes a second for Shouta to right himself, but before they hit the ground he’s able to wrap one arm around Joke while the other throws his scarf at an overhang on the building he’d been scoping. It catches as intended and they drop to the ground safely, Shouta stumbling a little with the added weight of Joke clinging to him. He can hear the men on the roof opposite them snarling angrily, fixing themselves up and shouting threats against their lives. While they do, the team that had rushed into the building begins filing out, handcuffed traffickers in hand and victims being led out by a few officers. The shouting on the roof silences almost immediately. 
“You alright, Eraser?” It’s Hawks that asks after appearing over his left shoulder with a bound, angry looking man in hand and dangling as the massive red wings on the pro hero beat against the air; the Number Two tilts his head to the side slightly in curiosity while his golden eyes flash in concern as he asks. 
“On the roof,” is all Shouta says, getting straight to the point. “Four men, all working for the ring inside.” Hawks’ pupils narrow to sharp slits, and a dozen feathers zip into the air and over to the roof Shouta had nodded his head towards. Loud yelling and shouts fill the air, followed by shrieks as the feathers binding the men bring them down to the ground. They’re quickly apprehended by the police force assisting the pros in the bust, and all at once the entire event is over. The human trafficking ring that Shouta himself had been focused on bringing down for nearly four years now was destroyed, and all current victims were safe. 
He wishes he could sigh in relief, but there’s an annoying weight on his shoulder. 
“Get off of me, Joke, the danger’s over and this is incredibly unprofessional,” he growls, noticing the way people were staring; he rubs at his eyes to soothe the ever-present burning that came with his quirk use, especially now after the USJ incident; the scar on his face aches at the memory.  
“But something could happen!” Miss Joke exclaims, clinging tighter to him and looking up at him like what he’d said was crazy. “More could be waiting — and I haven’t even gotten to make you laugh yet or agree to that date.”
“You won’t get to do either, now get the fuck off of me!” He snarls, practically tearing her from his side and stepping away. She looks hurt, but he can’t bring himself to care. He was done being nice — clearly it wasn’t working. 
“But Aizawa—!” she starts to whine, but he cuts her off. 
“It’s Eraserhead. You have no right to call me anything else.” With that he storms off, disappearing into the darkness of a nearby alley before making his way through the shadows. All he can think about is the shower waiting for him when he gets home and how filthy he felt having Joke’s hands on his chest and shoulders. It’s why he’s taken by surprise when a heavy figure pushes him into the wall and binds his hands with his own weapon. 
Instinctively he struggles, snarling out a quick threat before the familiar scent of a perfume he’d bought himself reaches his nose, and he relaxes. 
“Evening, Eraserhead,” you murmur lowly, eyes narrowed in displeasure as you look over him, and inwardly he groans. Judging from the tone of your voice, you’d seen all of Joke’s behavior,  but had heard none of what he’d said. You had to have been out of range. 
It didn’t surprise him; Shouta knew you were fond of keeping a watchful eye over him or Hizashi or Nemuri whenever on of them was on a mission like this. You’d have accompanied any of them, Shouta especially ( and tonight of all night most definitely ), but that would have been a foolish decision on your part and everyone who knew you personally would not have been pleased with any possible outcome that followed.
A known villain like yourself would have been swiftly arrested by any police officer or pro hero that didn’t know your civilian identity — and only the three aforementioned people did. 
“It isn’t what you think,” he says tiredly, and a bitter laugh escapes you. Shouta winces; you were hurt. 
“Isn’t that what they all say?” you ask coldly, and Shouta does not reply. He’s too busy staring at the slight tremble in your chin and the way your eyes are getting slightly wetter. 
God. Joke really did have to fuck up everything.
He sighs. “I mean it. It isn’t what it looked like.” You look at him, pondering the denial; Shouta wasn’t a liar. Not once throughout the years you’d known him had he lied to you, even when he’d been after you to arrest you before the two of you had started dating. 
Fine. 
You narrow your eyes. “Talk.”
So he does. He admits to the harassment, to Joke ignoring boundaries and not caring about how many times he’s requested she leave him be. He talks and explains and confesses to things he’d kept secret from you for years, and it takes over half an hour. Over the course of his explanations, the grip you’d had on him goes from a deadly one to one so loose he can barely feel it. The spots would bruise, but he’d wear them with pride as he did any other marks you gave him; you’d not meant to hurt him, and he’d be damned if he let you get into your head about how tight your grip had been. 
By the time he’s finished, you’re shaking — not from the cold, he knows, but from ill-concealed rage. 
“So you’re telling me that you told her to get off of you and to stop touching… and she didn’t?” Your face has been swiftly schooled into an impassive blank canvas, a look he hasn’t seen in years and therefore can no longer read. Hesitantly, he nods, and your eyes flash with an anger he’d not seen since Nemuri was kidnapped by a sex trafficking ring three years back. “And this has been going on for years, but you haven’t told me until now because you thought it would strain the relationship.” Another nod. Your eyes narrow. “Noted. She’ll be on the news tonight.”
You release him from his binds and disappear, scaling the wall and racing across the rooftop. Shouta barely has time to think, but he doesn’t have to in order to follow you, quickly catching you and standing in your way of getting to Joke’s usual patrol route.
“No, you can’t kill her. Not tonight,” he says warningly, and you look angry. 
“You told her to stop and she didn’t. You've told her to stop for years. She doesn’t listen, and she thinks it’s okay. Heroes won’t ever do anything, Shouta, you know that.” The venomous tone you’re sporting  is unmatched, and if Shouta hadn’t known you as well as he does, he’d think it was aimed at him; thankfully he’s known you for years. That being said, he did know that, and honestly it stung a little. 
“I can handle it tonight.” The poison in your voice has transformed into the thickest, most sweet honey as you tempt him. Your eyes are soft, your gaze gooey and only possibly described as sticky sweet. “It could all be over, baby — she’d never bother you again.”
It’s tempting. More tempting than a pro hero should ever allow — but Shouta’s never been the kind of man to balk in the face of the wicked and condemn them for their actions without thought. He was not a good man, and  he doubted there ever was one — he was kind, he was wise, and he was gentle when required, but if he was as good as society deemed the word, he would have turned you in five years ago when the two of you met and he’d captured you after you’d murdered three men. Instead he’d been attracted to you, and a game of cat and mouse had started between the two of you that only ended when he’d caught you again and taken you in an alleyway. 
“That’s wrong,” he murmurs, hands shaky as his heart rate quickens; god, you were so fucking sexy when you promised to murder for him. 
“I never implied that it was right,” you admit casually. For a moment silence stretches out between the two of you, Shouta once again pondering the offer you’d made, then he shakes his head again. 
“No. Not tonight. I don’t feel like scrubbing blood out of the bathroom again,” he says tiredly, and you pout. 
“It’s never usually mine,” you grouse, crossing your arms and turning to look away. 
“And you know how happy that makes me,” he replies warmly, “But I want to be able to hold you and go to sleep tonight without the looming pressure of scrubbing the bathroom in the morning; you know how Hizashi is with blood, and he wanted to go out for breakfast tomorrow before work.”
You let out a wordless grumble, still not looking at him. He searches what parts of your face he can see with the angle you’re turned, and jumps a little when you look at him with nothing but promises of death in your eyes as he lets you push him against the wall again. “If I see that stupid bitch touch you again, I’ll kill her,” you growl, then yelp when he suddenly flips you, your chest and cheek against brick and his chest to your back. 
“If she ever pulls that shit again, I’ll let you,” he promises while pressing slow kisses along your bare skin, biting at your neck and drawing a whimper from your lips. He grins against you. “Go back to the apartment and let me finish my patrol so I can get the hell home and fuck your dumb little brains out, kitten.” A shaky moan falls from your lips and you push your ass back against him. 
“Or you could just fuck me here?” you offer hopefully, your eyes glittering darkly with a newfound interest he knows all too well. “Please Daddy, I’m so wet for you-” A sharp smack to your ass makes you cry out. 
“You fuckin’ heard me, brat — go home.”
With a growled huff, you tug yourself free from his grip, still pouting. Shouta raises an eyebrow; your next move was yours to make. Would you defy him and go after Joke, or would you listen and go home? Either decision would be preferable, and if he was honest he wouldn’t mind you doing what you pleased to Joke tonight as long as you didn’t track blood into the apartment, but why would he admit that now?
You huff again, and promptly disappear into the inky blackness — away from the direction of Joke’s patrol route, and Shouta barely fights off an amused chuckle. 
You always were such a good girl for him. 
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When Shouta finally gets home at half past four, the apartment is dark. He can smell the scent of food from his favorite takeout place, though the initial strength of it is soft and faded, and the soft hum of the television in the bedroom keys him in on where you’ve retreated to.  Toeing off his boots, he wanders into the bedroom, rubbing at the back of his neck as he takes in the sight of you curled up in the bed you shared with him, surrounded by pillows with the little grey cat you and he had taken off the streets curled up in your lap, dozing. Shouta sighs; as calm as he was now, Shouta knew damn well the little monster you’d for some reason named Tofu was going to slap him for no fucking reason later, so he thanked whoever was listening that the little guy was napping right now so he could take a break and wash off all the filth from tonight’s bust and patrol. 
He wanders into the bathroom, stripping down to the clothes he wore beneath his hero uniform and kicking the black mass of cloth towards the laundry hamper; the urge to piss was far greater than any need to pick them up off the floor right away. 
After finishing up, he hops into the shower, eager to rid himself of the grime he’d collected overnight, and once he’s done he makes his way back into the bedroom, lazily toweling himself dry before moving to the dressed to pull out a pair of sweatpants.  
“What are you watching?” he asks you quietly as he puts them on, and you shrug. 
“I don’t know,” you reply, and he raises an eyebrow. 
“You don’t know?”
“No, I haven’t been paying much attention,” you admit quietly, gently playing with Tofu’s tail; he keeps dozing, unbothered. “I’ve had a lot to think about.”
Suddenly the warmth Shouta had felt like he’d sucked in from the shower disappeared, leaving him cold and nervous. You’d had several hours to think about everything he’d told you, and he worried that you were mad at him now. Admittedly he’d technically lied for a long time, keeping secrets from you and not telling you how he felt about Joke for years, so he really couldn’t blame you for being upset with him, even just a little ( or a lot ). The only comfort was that you were still here — because Shouta knew you. If you were going to leave him, you wouldn’t have been in the apartment when he’d returned. Just like you’d first entered it all those years ago, so would you leave it should you choose to abandon the relationship: quickly, silently, and without any reasons to raise suspicion. 
Thinking about it, Shouta didn’t even know if you’d take Tofu if the two of you separated. How would that work?
“We aren’t separating, and I’m not leaving you,” you say tiredly, and Shouta fights off the urge to kick himself; he’d spoken out loud without meaning to. 
You sigh. “That being said, I do want to know why you didn’t tell me.” Shouta tries to repeat what he’d told you, but you look away. “The truth, Shouta. Not the excuse you made before.”
Silence. 
It takes a moment, but finally Shouta just drifts to the bed and sits down on his side with his back to you, looking down at his hands. “Shame,” he finally whispers, and you look at him with a confused gaze. “I just… how could I admit that I couldn’t get her to stop when I’m a pro hero?” Your eyes turn soft and understanding, and he continues in a tone of disgust, refusing to look at you. “I feel so weak. I’m a grown man and I couldn’t fucking stop her — I can’t stop her. I already know the next time we cross paths she’ll be the same. Nothing will change, and I’ll always be… stuck.”
A second silence overtakes you both. You say nothing, only watching the way his shoulders have a slight tremble, before moving Tofu and kicking back the thick layers of blankets, crawling on your hands and knees over to him. He doesn’t look up at you, still staring at his own hands as you cup his head in yours and move his head up so you can see his face. 
He still doesn’t lock eyes with you. 
“Shouta,” you murmur softly. “Look at me.” He makes no attempt to move. “Please?” He does as asked, and you smile softly. “There’s that handsome face,” you murmur, your voice as warm as his morning coffee, and he scoffs. 
“Don’t coddle me,” he mutters, and you grin, not missing the way his lips quirk up in a soft, blatantly fond smile.
“If I don’t, who will?” you ask teasingly, and his tiny smile widens ever so slightly. You grab one of his hands in yours, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles as you sit back on your calves, and your sweet smile twists. “Besides, haven’t I made it obvious to you? You’re mine. Nothing’s gonna change that, Sho, and no one is going to be able to take you away from me.” A murderous gleam flickers in your eyes, and Shouta finally looks up at you just in time to catch it. 
His shoulders droop as he relaxes, his muscles losing the tension he’d built up tonight. Somehow, despite the very clear ( though unvoiced ) notion of just what you could and would do if someone tried to take him from you would normally frighten someone else, he felt at ease. 
His eyes close and he relaxes into your touch as you creep close again, this time straddling his thighs while holding him close; he lets his head fall to rest on your chest, and he sighs from the comfort. “Do I need to spell it out?” You whisper softly to him as you lean down to press an open-mouthed kiss to his stubbled jaw, your hands roaming over his shoulders in a way that has him tensing up for an entirely different reason. 
“Maybe — Maybe you do,” he whispers shakily, tilting his head just enough for you to get to that special, ever-so-sensitive spot that you knew had his cock twitching. You laugh softly, your teeth lightly scratching along his heated skin, and he shakes a little as he fights off the urge to move. 
You gently push him back to rest against the stack of pillows you kept on the bed, and his head falls back in pleasure as you purr out a warm, gooey, “M…” against the base of his throat. Laving your tongue across the skin there, you feel him swallow hard, and you laugh lowly again, your voice thick and sweet like syrup as you continue with a simple, “I…” before moving down to his chest. From the corner of your eye you see one of his hands fist in the sheets, and you fight off yet another chuckle as you slip your way down his body before stopping at your next target: one of his dark, hardened nipples. You don’t hesitate to take it into your mouth, your hot tongue circling the sensitive flesh in a way that has his upper body trembling. It presses hard into the soft, wet pad of your tongue, and the breathy sighs falling from his lips as you lavish it in attention while twisting the other amuse you. Grinning slightly, you take it between your front teeth and tug at it a bit, relishing the sharp whine and stuttered moan he lets out from the feeling; his chest had always been so sensitive. “N,” you say, drifting down yet again. Your fingernails dig ever so slightly into his skin and follow the rest of your body down, scratching across his sensitive nipples and leaving him whimpering louder than before. You finally still before your prize, thick and heavy and hard and hidden from you, and you breathe out a wanting, “E…” as you curl your fingers around the waistband of his sweatpants and pull them down slowly to reveal the tip of his dripping cock. 
Eyes glittering eagerly, you draw his sweatpants down further, releasing the rest of his length as well as his balls, and you gaze at the way it bobs up to slap against the skin of his stomach. His balls are fat and heavy, and you swallow the drool that’s accumulated in your mouth before taking his cock in one hand, slightly turning your head to the side, and tracing a thick line from his balls to his drooling tip with your tongue. A choked noise is ripped from his throat, and you press your tongue against the sensitive spot under his head and lap at it softly before purring a pleased, “Mine.”
It takes a moment, but as his thighs tremble around your head and his breathing gets heavier and heavier, Shouta finally manages to reply. “Yours,” he whispers, and your grin turns wicked with anticipation.
“Yeah, you’re all mine,” you murmur to yourself before taking his cock into your mouth again, this time sucking lazily at the tip until Shouta’s shaking. Looking up at his messy figure above you, you soak in the picture of his heavy breathing and his squeezed-shut eyes as he falls to pieces beneath your touch. Splaying out your fingers, you run your hands across his thighs as you work your way down to the thick, dark curls around the base of his cock. Your fingernails scratch at his sensitive skin, and his thighs quake as you finally fully nestle his cock in your throat, your nose buried in his pubes. He’s clean, as always, and he’s used your favorite body wash; Shouta lets out low noises of pleasure as you slowly begin to bob your head along his length, sending it down your throat then pulling off it all over again until he’s sitting up, his stomach rolling ever so slightly as he stares down at you while panting. 
“Fu-uck, wait, I-!” he moans, instinctively bucking up into your mouth. You laugh a little around him while languidly sucking at his cock, and he groans deep and hard from the feeling of the vibrations before fisting his hand around your throat and tugging you up. “Y’gotta — Y’gotta stop, I’ll cum,” he grunts, holding you up by your neck. You use one thumb to swipe at a smear of pre on your cheek before sticking it in your mouth to suck it clean. 
“That’s the point, Sho,” you say, rolling your eyes. “I want it.”
“And you’ll get it,” he replies with a growl before yanking you up so you’re laying on top of him before rolling you over onto your back with him hovering over you. “Only you’ll be taking it in this tight cunt of yours, so I hope you’re ready.”
He watches the way your pupils blow ever so slightly, and his tongue darts out to wet his slightly chapped lips as you gaze up at him with soft, gooey eyes. With a grin you ask, “Well Daddy? I thought you were going to fuck me?”
A warm hand comes up and gently grips the column of your throat, and your eyes widen slightly as Shouta leans down with a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Do you really want to tempt fate tonight, sweetheart?” he asks coldly, a wicked smile on his face, and your legs spread a little in response. 
“I don’t feel anything,” you purr teasingly, “Don’t tell me it’s already in?”
Without warning, his free hand claps down onto your already sensitive pussy and you let out a choked howl, eyes wide with surprise. During your quick reaction he’d buried his face in your chest, sucking and biting at whatever he could get into his mouth as the hand that had just slapped your cunt gently begins to toy with it soothingly, cooling the stinging and causing a tightness to start building in your belly. 
Shouta was no stranger to the sweet spots scattered across your body and eagerly took advantage of each and every one, biting down on sensitive flesh as his fingers gently eased inside of you and began feeling around inside — teasing, of course, considering he knew where the most sensitive spots were inside of you and he purposefully kept himself from touching them. His thumb runs rough, lazy circles on your clit, and you start rolling your hips up into his hands as he worms his way down the bed, finally releasing your throat. You’re practically dripping now, a small wet spot forming on the sheet below you as your juices roll down past his hands and the curve of your ass to puddle on the bed before soaking onto the fabric. Shouta bites aggressively at your inner thigh, and you whine sharply and reach down to take his hair in your hands, tightly fisting your fingers in it as you needily tug his head toward your center. He just laughs and shakes you loose, slapping your thigh to usher a new cry from your lips before taking his thumb off of your clit so he can use his now free hand to slowly play with the sensitive bundle of nerves and focus his other hand entirely on fitting a third finger inside your sopping wet hole, watching greedily as your cunt swallows them up. 
You’re openly moaning now, sharp cries and whimpers falling from your lips as he curls his fingers and starts playing with an especially swollen, especially sensitive stretch of flesh inside that has you nearly writhing. You can’t stop yourself from rutting your hips up into his touch, however, when that free hand starts making hard, fast circles over your clit at the same time as his curled fingers piston in and out of your cunt at a brutal pace that has you wailing. “O-Oh god, Shouta, please!” You faintly hear him let out a breathless laugh, but you’re too busy gripping the sheets with one hand and your pillow with the other while thrusting your hips in time with each borderline violent press of his thick fingers inside that you barely even make note of it. 
“C’mon now, sweetheart, you’re gonna cum for me, aren’t you?” he growls lowly, an excited glint in his eyes as the sounds of your cries changing in pitch signals that you’re about to cum all over his fingers. God, he wants to lap it up like a cat drinking milk; tasting you was always a favorite pastime. He rolls his hips against the mattress, grinding his aching cock between it and his hips and chokes down a shaky whine of his own as spikes of pleasure shoot through him. “Gonna cum for Daddy?”
“Yes! Yes! P-Please, Daddy, let me cum!” you beg shrilly, your entire body shaking. “Please, wanna cum, gotta cum, feels s’good-!”
Shouta knows that if he looked up at you he’d see little tears beginning to gather along your waterline, glittering in the low light like the most precious diamonds, and the thought has him groaning and grinding against the bed harder. “Y-Yeah,” he moans lowly, “Cum for Daddy, baby, cum for Daddy…”
Your cunt tightens around the three fingers he has buried inside you up to his palm, and he replaces his hand on your clit with his mouth, roughly sucking and lapping at it in a way that has you screeching. Your legs fly up to lock around his head and he lets them, enjoying the tight squeeze of both them and your cunt as you fall apart in his mouth and on his fingers.  “That’s right, sweetheart, just like that,” he moans into your pussy, licking up all of the shocks of wetness that had started dripping down his hand as you came. 
Above him, you’re in tatters, your entire body trembling in a seemingly never-ending spasm. Your eyes have rolled back, and you thoughtlessly clench your thighs around your boyfriend’s head as a means of keeping him in place, desperate to keep coming until you’re screaming.  “G-God, oh god — Fuck, Daddy, p-please-!”
Shouta groans into you like a drunken man into a half-empty bottle, and slowly eases up on the movements of his fingers as your thighs slowly loosen. He doesn’t stop circling your sensitive clit with his tongue, though, until you weakly push him away with one foot. Finally he comes up, though, hair wild and face from the nose down soaked in your cum. In the faint light from the television his chin shines, and your heart thumps heavily in your chest as he climbs up the bed as well as the length of your body before slotting himself between your legs, pressing his wet mouth against yours and initiating a heated kiss that leaves you own taste smeared across your lips and in your mouth. His stubble scratches across your cheeks and chin roughly, and you moan into his mouth from both the feeling as well as the feel of his tongue in your mouth. 
As the two of you kiss, you allow your hands to wander across his chest and shoulders and around his waist and back, feeling the way he rolled his hips against you and ground his hard cock against your messy cunt and loving it. With each rough rut the head of his cock caught on your clit and left you a moaning whore beneath him — as if he was much better in his place above you. 
“Lemme fuck you, please,” he begs weakly, rutting against you desperately, “Please, please — God, I wanna fuck you so fucking bad, sweetheart, please-!”
“Y-Yeah, fuck me!” You gasp, “N-Need it, Sho, need your cock!”
“Fuck yeah, gonna fuck you so good — God you’re so fuckin’ wet, so perfect…” Shouta rambles, fumbling with pressing his cock inside. Gone is the sadistic man who’d lain between your legs taking you apart, and in his place is a man who had already fallen apart at the promise of getting to force his cock inside.
Sitting up, you watch as he uses one trembling hand to press his cock against you, letting out a whimper when it pops inside. The following roll of his hips that buries his length to the base inside you has you letting out a shaky cry; you let your head fall back onto the pillows, your thighs trembling as you boyfriend pulls out then presses inside all over again, quickly building up a rhythm that has the headboard banging against your wall hard enough to have the decorations hanging on it start to shake. In the back of your mind you thank anyone listening that no one had moved into the apartment next to yours yet, and felt a little guilty for whoever would inevitably take up the space. 
“F-Fuck — oh god, Daddy, please-!” you whimper, letting out a shriek as a hand cracks across the fat of your tits, the sensitive flesh stinging sharply as tears spring up in your eyes, threatening to roll down your cheeks in a never-ending river showing off the pain and pleasure Shouta was putting you through. The feeling of his cock inside of you leaves you trembling, the heavy drag so fucking good and perfect. It leaves you so very full and pleased that when he roughly fucks against your cervix it punches a sharp gasp out of you, the feeling lmost too much alk at once. You cry out for him, a soaking mess, and he moans into the base of your throat as he keeps his quick pace steady and rough, using your cunt like the little hole of his to fuck that it is and seeking his own pleasure like a starving man does food. 
“Oh god, Sho, please!” you wail, tits shaking from each brutal roll of his hips. You throw one leg over his waist as he grunts into your throat, and he wraps an arm under it and hoists it over his shoulder, the position only serving to allow him to bully his cock even deeper inside than before. Tears spring up in your eyes as his head slams against yet again against your sensitive cervix, and you could almost swear that he’d have worked his way into your womb with how rough he was being if that had been possible. Unfortunately it wasn’t, and when he laughs at the fucked out expression on your face it just triggers full tears, which well up quickly in your eyes becore beginning tk roll down your cheeks and temples, fucking ul your makeuo in a way you know will drive him fucking crazy. 
“Th-That’s right baby, cry for Daddy!” Shouta moans, gazing down at the tears and mascara streaking down your face hungrily, “What a good fuckin’ girl, crying on that dick — feels that fuckin’ good, huh?” 
Your nails dig into his back, scratching near-bloody lines across his skin as you struggle to hold onto him; he growls with each deep scratch. “Y-Yeah!” you sob, trying to speak but unable to get much out as he practically destroys you. “F-Fuck, Daddy, c-can’t think — it’s too hard, too hard to th-think when you’re mixing up my insides-!” 
“You can take it,” he growls in response, eyes and hair wild as he starts losing himself to the pleasure. “You can fuckin’ take it, can fuckin’ take this cock — c’mon baby, you’re my good little whore, aren’t you? Gonna take this fat fuckin’ cock like a big girl and milk me dry?” 
You wail, completely overwhelmed in only the best way as that ever-familiar knot begins to tie itself up in your lower belly, nodding wordlessly as his thrusts just get rougher and rougher. Your jaw falls open from the pleasure, you eye crossing and eyelashes fluttering, and he spits a fat glob of spit onto your mouth and watches gleefully as you immediately swallow it down. His own eyes roll back at the sight coupled with the sudden feeling of your pussy starting to clench, and he moans out a low, “That’s it sweetheart, cum again for me — cum again for Daddy, cum on my cock!” and relishes the sharp sobs you let out, your pussy spasming around his thick lemgth nd your body shaking in his grip. You cling to him, desperate and needy, and he groans hard as his pace gets messy and loses fluidity as he gets closer and closer, then finally starts cumming. 
“Oh g-god, oh fuck-!” he gasps, squeezing his eyes shuts as he fucks intk you messily, filling you with rope after rope of thick heat until he’s left twitching weakly inside of you. He eases to a stop and the two of you lay tangled up like that for a moment before he carefully pulls out. A mixture of his cum amd yours pours out of your hoel, and the sight makes his spent cock twitch twice before he uses the same  fingers he’d used to stretch you open to press it back inside once, twice, then one more time, less coming out each time before he stands on shaky knees and starts slowly working his way to the side of the bed to walk to the bathroom that stops with your hand curled around his wrist. 
“S-Stay,” you whine plaintively, a soft pout on your face and tears still in your eyes. “Don’t go, stay.”
“I gotta clean us up, honey,” Shouta murmurs softly, eyes fond and warm, and he smiles slightly when you shake your head and deepen the pout. 
“No. Tomorrow.” Your voice leaves no room for argument. “Stay.”
With an affectionate sigh, Shouta nods. “Okay. Tomorrow,” he murmurs, getting back in bed with you. You both worm your way into comfortable positions under the blankets and slot yourselves together, content to cuddle until the two of you fell asleep and inevitably drifted to your previously appropriated sides of the bed. 
The television, still on, drones monotonously in the background as the two of you lay there together, some late night program that neither of you care about playing as you bask in a shared afterglow. Shouta loves moments like this; they’re always so soft and perfect in ways he never thought he’d get — and yet here you were. 
He snatches up the remote and changes the channel a few times before finally muttering to himself and turning it off completely. His stomach grumbles a little, and he considers running to the kitchen for his food, but decides against it until you gently prod him away. 
“Go eat,” you mumble, having heard his stomach. “I’ll be here when you’re done.”
He huffs out yet another fond laugh and pads into the kitchen, followed swiftly by Tofu, who had long since disappeared from the bedroom when their ‘activities’ had started. He grabs a fork while passing the silverware drawer then  reaches the fridge and opens it, searching through it lazily for a moment before finding his containers of takeout and snatching one up, digging into the chicken pasta hungrily. Several sharp pricks tickle against either side of his left ankle, and he nearly drops the container at the slightly painful feeling before looking down. 
“Tofu, you fucking bastard, let go of my fucking ankle!” he hisses, and the cat looks up at him through wide eyes for a second before turning and biting the back of his ankle hard. “You fuckin’— get off, you little shit!” The cat just growls around its mouthful of his Achilles tendon, and Shouta shakes his leg a little to try and loosen it to no avail, ultimately tossing his food back in the fridge after shoving several more bites in his mouth so he can reach down and snatch up the furry attacker. The cat writhes in his grip, but Shouta refuses to let go and eventually the tiny bastard goes limo in acceptance, and Shouta gets to go back to his food. The cat swipes at a thick piece of chicken, but Shouta puts the fork out of reach just in time. “No fuckin’ way; maybe if you’d not been a little asshole you could have had some, but you decided to be a little shit and bite me. No chicken for you, and I’m telling Mom.”
The cat meows plaintively, and Shouta shakes his head. “Nope, face the consequences of your actions and suffer.” A screech from the cat gets no response, and Shouta quickly finished up his pasta before tossing the box in the trash and closing the fridge; he had more food, but he wasn’t hungry enough to eat them right now, so they could wait until tomorrow. 
He pads back into the bedroom, finding his sleepy girlfriend scrolling through her phone through half lidded eyes. He drops the cat onto the bed and it sprints to her, curling up at her hip on her side of the bed, and he says deadpan, “Your little monster ambushed me.”
You scoff playfully, picking Tofu uo by the armpits and shaking him ever so slightly. “Tofu would never, he’s just a baby,” you purr, laughing a little as he bats at your face with nothing but fluff — a literal sharp contrast to how he’d dug his claws and teeth into Shouta in the kitchen. 
“He’s got you completely fooled, I can’t believe it,” Shouta says, shaking his head and smiling as he climbs into bed next to you. You press close, craving the feeling of his skin against yours, and he worms around until he’s comfortable. A simple silence falls between the two of you, Shouta melting into the mattress just like he’d craved since the night had started.
You’re the one to break the silence. 
“I hate her,” you mumble quietly, drawing invisible pictures on his bare chest with your index finger. You hear him hum in acknowledgment beneath you, then one of those big hands cups the back of your head. 
“I know you do,” is his reply, and you sniff a little and nuzzle closer to him. 
“It isn’t fair,” you pout. “She gets to put her hands all over you even though you don’t like it and no one bats an eye, even when you ask her to stop.”
“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” he croons softly, trying to calm you down from the inevitable fit you would have, but this doesn't comfort you. “I have you to make it all better.”
You push yourself up some so you can look at him, your lip jutting out in a vicious pout that he’d already heard in your voice. “You shouldn’t have to handle it, Shouta,” you say seriously. “She should fucking listen when you say no.”
Shouta just nods. “I agree,” he replies gently. “But she won’t change. We both know that.”
You shrug. “Then she’ll die,” you say simply, eyes dark and filling with the beginnings of bloodlust. Shouta hums a little yet again and seemingly ponders this, then nods again. 
“…Hmm. If that’s what you want, it’s fine by me,” he says simply, clutching you tightly. You scoff. 
“I wasn’t asking permission.”
“I wasn’t giving it,” he replies, recognizing the teasing tone. He presses back into the mattress with a sigh and allows all the tension to leave his body, relaxing into the bed he shared with you. You nuzzle against him again, and he hums happily at the contact and closes his eyes as the smoky edges of sleep flicker around in his mind. He can feel one of your hands playing with his hair, your fingers running through it and gently working out the knots. 
God, he was exhausted. 
“Sleep, Sho,” you murmur softly, pressing one hand to his cheek. He smiles faintly and leans into your touch as you smile back at him tenderly, and everything fades into a blissful silence. 
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A weight on his chest and a soft paw slapping his nose is what rouses Shouta from the deep sleep he’d been in, and he blearily opens his eyes to the sight of Tofu sitting on him smacking him across the face — just like every morning. 
Who needs an alarm clock when you have a cat?
Shouta groans and sits up, stretching and ignoring the annoyed mrrp! his cat lets out when forced to hop down. Glancing to your side of the bed, he smiles softly at the sight of you with wild hair and drool dripping down your chin with one hand thrown over your head, and he leans down and nuzzles you affectionately. You hum softly and slowly blink awake, your first sight of the day being him bumping his nose against yours. 
You grin. “Hi,” you whisper, and he grins back. 
“Hi,” he murmurs, and you giggle. You glance at the clock and then smile eagerly, a sudden lusty look in your eye. 
“Think we could have a quickie this morning before you go to class, Sensei?” you purr, and he groans and lets his head thump against your shoulder, closing his eyes. 
“If you were anyone else, that wouldn’t have been so fucking sexy,” he mumbles, and you giggle before pressing a quick series of kisses to his stubbly jaw. 
“Well, Sensei?” you ask playfully, and he looks at you with dark eyes. “Aren’t you going to teach me a lesson?”
He grins wickedly and doesn’t respond, instead jumping you and pressing you into the mattress. You accidentally let out a gleeful shriek as he begins to lave open-mouthed kisses across your skin, suckling at your skin long enough to leave marks alongside the bruises from last night. 
He pulls away, lips slightly swollen, and locks eyes with you, smiling breathlessly. “I’m gonna take you apart,” he says proudly, and over the next hour he does just that before padding off into the bathroom for another shower, leaving you spread out on the bed with a racing heart. Your entire body feels like a bowl of mush, and as the sounds of him showering in the bathroom reach your ears you groan, forcing yourself to move. You’d wanted to make him a bento this morning, and you damn well were going to. 
It’s done by the time he leaves the bedroom, fully dressed in his hero uniform, and you’re resting on the sectional with Tofu dozing on your lap and one of your several computers on hand. Shouta doesn’t want to know what you’re looking at so excitedly and pointedly ignores the screen as he dips down and catches your lips with his, kissing you deeply. 
“I’ll see you tonight, I don’t have patrol tonight,” he mumbles against your lips before kissing you again. You smile softly and nod. 
“Okay hun. Oh, and don’t forget your lunch on the kitchen counter!” youncall, and he grunts a response. He heads to the kitchen and grabs his keys and a coat as well as his capture weapon, and during all of this Tofu wakes up. The cat darts off of your lap and into your kitchen and then, judging from the choked screech your boyfriend lets out, proceeds to jump the man and start biting. 
“Fucking why, Tofu?!”
You giggle softly and call the cat, and the little menace bounces back to you as if he’d not done anything wrong, curling up in your lap and starting to purr happily. Shouta grumbles the entire way out the door, and then he’s leaving, and you’re still giggling. Hizashi was at the door, ready to grab breakfast with Shouta as expected, and he calls out a quick greeting and says ‘hello’ to Tofu before setting out with your boyfriend, letting the house fall silent. 
You grin and get back to work. 
Hours later you’re hungry, so you put your… less than legal work to the side and head to the kitchen, leaving Tofu asleep on the couch. As you go in, you pause, glancing at the end of the corner of the kitchen counter where the bento you’d made Shouta sits. At first you’re annoyed, but then you grin; he must have put it down in the struggle for his life when he went head on against the cat. 
Grabbing a pretty pink and white handkerchief, you wrap the large box up so you can hold it by handkerchief loops and begin making your way to U.A. School, buying yourself lunch along the way ( Because honestly? You deserved it. ). It takes around an hour, but eventually you make it, and after a few more minutes you manage to weasel your way inside and begin your trek through the halls to Class 1-A’s room. 
Ahead of you is a familiar white bundle of fur wrapped up in a small suit, and you giggle softly to yourself.  “Hello, Nedzu!” you greet brightly through a grin that mimicked a shark's predatory smile. The stoat ahead of you freezes, then turns quickly and responds in kind, his small black eyes shining darkly as the two of you — a frequent pair online when it came to tearing down certain aspects of hero society — coem to meet in the hallway. 
“Hello! What brings you to U.A. today?” he asks kindly, walking beside you as you continue on your way,  and you laugh genuinely. 
“Shouta forgot his lunch at home, I was just bringing it to him,” you explain with ease, and he nods. 
“Oh, how kind!” he replies, and smiles again while narrowing his eyes. “Though next time we will have to get you a security access card; it won’t do to have unannounced guests slipping in and out of the school!” Though the two of you could be considered ‘friends’, the slight warning was clear; while he wasn’t upset with you for coming in, he’d have preferred to not have a weakness in security that you could take advantage of enough to enter the school undetected.
Oh well. He’d patch the ‘hole’ and you’d find a new way to worm yourself in until the security system was sl tightly woven a drop of water couldn’t seep through. That was the entire purpose of this game, after all. 
“I’ll keep that in mind,” is the only response you give, and it seems to please him enough. The rest of your walk to Shouta’s classroom is spent in interesting conversation, various subjects coming and going until finally you reach the classroom door. 
“Well, this is your stop!” Nedzu says brightly. “I’ll leave you to it.”
“Thank you!” you call kindly as he disappears around a corner, and you knock then enter. 
All eyes lock on you as you come in, and out of all of them the only ones that don’t shine with confusion are your boyfriend’s. He stands from his chair and strides over to you quickly, an eyebrow raised, and growls quietly in a tone many ( but not you ) would consider harsh, “Now you know damn well you aren't supposed to come here — do you realize how many people there are here who could identify you?” 
You just smile brightly. “You left your bento on the kitchen counter!” you say, and he pauses for a moment and looks down at the pink bundle. 
“…Oh,” he mumbles simply, then nods. “Thank you, then.”
“You’re welcome,” you smile, and he turns to put it on the desk then pauses. You tilt your head to the side curiously, still ignoring the twenty pairs of eyes on the pair of you, as he turns around. 
“How the hell did you get in?” Shouta asks, both curious and confused, but you just giggle and give him a quick, soft kiss on the lips. 
“That’s a secret for me and Nedzu to know, honey,” you say sweetly, then disappear out the door. Aizawa stares after you, then sighs. 
“Well fuck,” he mutters. “That’s a match made in hell; god, why did I introduce those two to each other?” He turns and faces the sea of children he’d momentarily forgotten he had, and freezes. For a moment he fears they’ve recognized her, but then he registers that all twenty of his stupid children are grinning like the little devil spawns they are, and he fights off the urge to groan. “Why me, god?”
“Aizawa-Sensei has a girlfriend!” Ashido shrieks excitedly, and his entire Hell Class devolves into excited banter and rambling, endless questions pouring his way from all twenty, even the handful he trusted to be the quiet ones. 
“Why didn’t you tell us about your girlfriend, Sensei?!” Ashido asks, mimicked afterwards by nearly twenty voices. 
“Is she our new mom?” Kaminari asks, glancing at Kirishima through a grin that was brightly returned. The entire class giggles at the question. 
“Sensei has a girlfriend! Sensei has a girlfriend!” comes a random cheer from seemingly nowhere, likely Hagakure, and Shouta collapses into his chair with his face buried into his hands as twenty voices pummel him with question after question and the shrieks never end. 
“This. This is why I never told you,” he grumbles in response to Ashido, and the entire class devolves into more giggles and talking. Shouta sighs; it was only Monday. 
This was panning out to be a long week. 
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𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © { 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 } 𝐛𝐲 𝟒𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐒. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭.
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755 notes · View notes
imagination-mess · 5 months
Text
Imagine Pro Hero Deku at the Hero Expo signing, taking pictures, and talking to fans. He kept seeing the book repeatedly when fans were asking him to sign it for them. Curiosity got to him, and he asked what this book was about to get a recommendation to read it himself because it is an incredible story to read.
Later, he found the book being sold from one of the little shops set up in the plaza. They were selling specifically three books with a similar appearance to himself and his friends on the cover. He found out by conversing with some fans who hadn’t seen him yet and thought he was a cosplayer. The three books were connected: The Demon Prince, The Dragon King, and The Mage.
He ended up getting all three books for free. He just asked to sign the Mage book and take a picture with them since the seller refused to take money from him.
However, once he could recover from spending three days at the expo with fans. He started to read the book during his time off for the week.
You better believe Izuku read all of those books within a week because they were fascinating and detailed. It was a coincidence that parallels his life story. It was much later, after he finished the book, that it left him on a cliffhanger from the last book, which was The Mage. He went online to find out if there was another book coming out.
To find out, these books have come from a fanfiction website. Someone else had taken the original work and changed their names on the physical copy. Izuku assumed that it was the person he interacted with back at the Hero Expo.
The original creator of three books took all of their work down immediately after finding out that their work was being sold at the HeroExpo. The last post on their Twitter account was:
“Sorry for the inconvenience. I will not be uploading my work again. I would like not to be sued by the three biggest heroes of our generation.
Most of all, those books were published without my permission. Those physical copies of books sold at the Hero Expo weren’t by me."
To the horror of the original author of the books, they were trending on all social media platforms.
The fans wanted to know what the hype was about behind the books that had been taken down. People were sharing summaries about it and talking about it. Others expressed sadness that someone ruined it for everyone who would have loved to read it.
It didn’t help with the viral picture of Shoto reading ‘his’ book, The Demon Prince, at his favorite cat cafe while drinking tea.
The Deku, Dynamight, and Shoto fanbase are terrifying. Many people were harassing them to put it back on the website because they wanted to read it.
Within a couple of hours, the original author deleted their account.
However, it stayed in topic of conversation for a long time.
Next Pro Hero Dynamight
Later Pro Hero Shoto
294 notes · View notes
lostinwildflowers · 11 months
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Romantic Flight
Katsuki Bakugou x Reader
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Summary: Katsuki is the Chieftain's son, and a lot of pressure is on his shoulders to be the best. He finds comfort in you; as you do in him. He can't bring himself to tell you his feelings until a threat imposes itself on your friendship.
Word Count: 4.1K
Warnings: Swearing(it's Bakugou), mutual pining, harsh language, best friends to lovers, also kind of idiots to lovers, angst to fluff, also slightly hurt/comfort, happy ending!!!
A/N: HI GUYS!!! I'm so excited to share this fic with y'all! This is the first of 5 HTTYD x MHA fics that I'll be writing over the next while! Please let me know how you liked it! I don't really write for Bakugou that much, so any feedback is appreciated. Much love! -Birch<3
Useful Info:
Naugost - pronounced Nuh-gaw-st (not like August)
Tyr - Named after the Norse God of War
Romantic Flight - by John Powell - The inspiration for this piece!
Part ii. Dragon Island- Eijiro Kirishima x Reader
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This is Naugost. Most of the year, it’s warmer than the fire from an angry Nadder, with winds that will knock most people off of their feet, minus Mrs. Hoster, she’s sturdier than a Gronkle.
This island is so far off the maps that not even migrating dragons could find us. That’s how our village likes it, secluded and safe up in the mountains of Naugost, where we thrive off of the deep valley set in the middle of our island.
At the edge of the valley, set next to the waterfall that nourishes our farmland, is the house of the Chieftain, and his son, Katsuki. The chief is hardly ever around, always leading patrols to protect the edges of our territory, and making sure there is no contact with the outside world.
And his son? Well, Katsuki doesn’t always agree with him. He wants to expand our tribe, so he often sneaks out to explore. His desire to leave and escape made him competitive, and that’s where our story begins.
“Tyr, what the hell are you doing?!” the shout comes, the blonde-haired man’s voice deep and angry. The Monstrous Nightmare he was sitting upon, Tyr, was glaring up at him, smoke drifting from his nostrils in anger with his rider.
“Y/n’s getting away, she’s gonna beat us in this damn race if you don’t get your ass in gear!” Katsuki yells at the dragon, pointing to your disappearing figure over the small hill. The deep ruby-colored dragon growled at Katsuki, but lunged after your Deadly Nadder regardless, rushing forward so fast Katsuki yelped as he flew backward.
He managed to stay on, though, and clung to Tyr’s horns as he glared down at his dragon. Katsuki could hear your whoop and holler as your dragon threw the last sheep into your net, securing your win. Bakugou groans as he flies over the finish line, where you had landed your dragon, Gretta, and was smiling mischievously up at him.
“Shut your damn mouth,” Katsuki grumbles as he lands next to you, “This damn dragon won’t listen to me one damn bit.” A laugh falls from your lips as you pet Gretta on the neck, and you take in the appearance of your someday chieftain-to-be.
His golden locks were long and shaggy, with just a few braids at the base of his neck, one with a charm you had gifted him last year. He wore his flight suit, the deep red tones of his armor and padding matching the deep red set to his eyes, and the under colors of Tyr’s wings.
You blink once to stop your ogling, but a smile regains your lips as you snap back, “Maybe you should actually train your dragon instead of just ordering him around.” There was no malice behind your words, just a twinkle in your eye that you knew would just push Katsuki over the edge.
“You want to fight me?! I’ll whoop your ass right now,” he yelled as he slid down Tyr’s wing and to the ground, but as he marched up to Gretta, Tyr knocked him to the side with his head, the dragon heading straight for your outreached hand.
A soft chuff falls from the dragon’s mouth, and Katsuki frowns at the sight of his dragon being so affectionate toward you. You slide onto the ground as well, petting Tyr on the nose before glancing over at your best friend, who was picking himself up off the ground.
“Doesn’t look like I need to, Katsuki,” you giggle as you offer him your hand, which he rolls his eyes at, but begrudgingly takes your hand, knowing the crowd was watching you two.
You two were the perfect pair- the chieftain’s son and a council woman’s daughter. It was almost like the two of you were made to lead your island, but you both were set on being friends.
Katsuki grunts as you haul him to his feet, giving him a firm clap on the back as you smile and wave at the crowd, who was cheering for the both of you. The blonde was quiet next to you, and at first, you think he was sulking, but when you turn to look at him, he was already looking at you.
He’s looking at the way your (colored) eyes take in the members of your tribe. He’s noticing the way your hair is windswept from the intensity of the race. He sees the kindness in your body language as you wave to your family and friends in the crowd. He sees how beautiful you look.
He knew you were an amazing person, he wouldn’t be friends with anyone less than extraordinary. But he liked the fire to your soul, the sparks that seemed to fly when he was around you. In every way you were electricity and fire, everything he could ever dream of in a woman.
And that’s why he couldn’t tell you his feelings. You were too perfect for him, and he was already lucky enough to have you as a best friend.
“Kats? You okay?” you ask gently as you wave your hand in front of him, his frame freezing when he realized he was caught. He shakes his head back and forth to clear his mind before he nods at you with a frown.
“I can’t believe you beat me. Again,” is all he says as he stalks off, and you roll your eyes at him but follow his figure as he walks off. You give two short whistles over your shoulder, and the two dragons fly off, released from the pressures of the race.
“You’ll get me next time,” you say softer, a gentle smile resting on your lips as you playfully bump your hip into his own, his body not even flinching at your assault.
Then, fast as lightning, he moves.
His right hand comes up to pin both of your wrists above your head, trapping your body flat against a beacon tower. Katsuki’s knee lands between your thighs, parting them open as he leans in close to you.
Your heart slams against the walls of your ribcage, suddenly silent at the close proximity. You can feel heat rushing over your face, and you knew it wasn’t because of the Naugost winds.
“Gotcha,” is all he whispers, his voice deepening a few tones as his eyes drop to your lips and then back. Your mouth is parted open, your (colored) orbs dancing back and forth with his own red ones, panic and nerves running through you.
“Ehm, excuse me?” a soft voice cuts in, and Katsuki releases you slowly, holding your gaze as he takes a step back and spins around.
“What do you want?” his voice is harsh, not soft like how it was with you a few moments ago. You see red hair over Katsuki’s shoulder, and recognition runs through you.
“Kirishima!” you yelp as you slide around Katsuki, lunging toward the tall redhead in a makeshift hug. Kirishima laughs as you jump into his arms, swinging you around once before setting you on the ground.
“Great job out there, Racing Queen,” Kirishima jokes, and Katsuki frowns at the simple nickname. When did you start talking to Kirishima? Katsuki thinks, taking a step back and watching the two of you chat for a moment.
The blonde sees the way your eyes light up when you talk to the burly blacksmith, how excitedly you talk with your hands as you explain how you won. It pissed him off. He hated how at ease you seemed with this other guy, this guy that he didn’t know that well, but knew couldn’t treat you as well as he could.
“Oi, Y/n, I’m leaving,” is all he says, turning on foot before walking away from you. You can see the dejected slope to his shoulders, and you assume he’s upset from his second loss to you at the sheep contest.
Kirishima also watches him go and mumbles, “Kinda feel bad for him, you know? You’ve been him twice in a row now, that’s hard on the chief’s son.” You sigh and shrug, “Yeah, but he’s my best friend, he’ll pout for a bit and then get over it.”
But would he? What was that moment against the beacon tower? He was… different. 
You can’t stop the swirl of thoughts in your head, but you are interrupted when Kirishima rubs at the back of his neck and bashfully starts, “So, I was thinking, we’ve been hanging out for a while now, and I think you’re pretty cool. Would you maybe want to go on a date with me?”
Your body stills at the question. A date? With Kirishima? You blink up at the burly man. Once. Twice, and then it clicks in your head that you need to answer him.
“Sorry!” you blurt out, rubbing at your eyes before glancing in the direction Katsuki left. You put on a bit of a fake smile but reply, “Sorry, I’m a bit tired from my race. I’d say that sounds nice, but I really need to go check on Katsuki right now. I’ll chat with you later? At the Great Hall?”
You don’t miss the way Kirishima’s face drops, and you feel your chest tighten at the crestfallen look on his handsome features. It wasn’t that you didn’t like him- there wasn’t anything you disliked about Kirishima.
He was tall, handsome, and had a great job. He worked hard to provide for himself and his mother and even helped out the other farmers when he had time. Kirishima had one of the best personalities in your tribe, and there were plenty of women lined up to talk to him.
He was sweet, kind, and overall a gentleman. But there was something missing, and you didn’t quite know what it was.
Kirishima wasn’t anything like Katsuki, you reasoned. Katsuki was your best friend, and strong in so many other aspects. He was an incredible fighter, he was very strong, and always protective over the weak. He had empathy but only showed it to those who deserved to see it.
As the chieftain’s son, you knew he bore a pressure on his shoulders, but he did it so well you hardly could notice. Katsuki would make an excellent leader and father someday.
Father? Where’d that come from? You wonder, a soft warmth rushing over your cheeks and a wave of butterflies flooding your belly. You’re brought back to Kirishima in front of you when he shuffles on his feet and nods, “Sounds good, Y/n, I’ll catch up with you later. Great job on your race today!”
You thank him as he turns away, his shoulders also slumping down in defeat. You watch him walk away but glance back to where Katsuki disappeared too.
Little did you know, Katsuki had stopped around the corner, listening to Kirishima ask you out. After the word “date” came out of the redhead’s mouth, Katsuki left. He didn’t want to hear you accept another man’s courtship with him present.
You were his best friend. You were the one he had axe-throwing competitions with. You were the one he raced against to catch the most sheep. Hell, you were even the one to challenge him to see who could catch the biggest fish bare-handed.
You did everything together, so why did you want to choose Kirishima? Katsuki couldn’t help the thoughts from flooding his brain, so he set out to where he knew no one would find him.
Three long whistles fell from his lips as he settled into his saddle on Tyr’s back, the Monstrous Nightmare seemingly having calmed down from the race. The sun was setting over the central ravine of Naugost, and Katsuki knew most people would be setting out for the Great Hall for dinner after the race.
He didn’t really feel like having his loss shoved in his face, so he set out for Brokeback Point, the furthest edge north of the island, where the cliffs were steep and no one dared to rest. Waves crashed against the steep red crags, the roar of the water helping to quiet the racing thoughts in his head.
His thoughts of you. He knew he needed to tell you eventually, but with how happy you seemed with Kirishima, he didn’t think he could ruin it. A sigh falls from his mouth as he rubs at his eyes, and Tyr lays down next to the chieftain’s son, resting his head on Katsuki’s lap.
Katsuki huffs once, but keeps his mouth shut, instead rubbing the dragon on his snout and watching the sunset to his west. It was peaceful, being out here alone. It was half the reason why Katsuki didn’t want to become chief.
He enjoyed his freedom, being able to fly off to other islands, and mark all the different kinds of dragons around, and what habitats they liked. He wanted to know if there were people around, and if they were going to be a threat to his home. To you.
It was so much, sometimes, being the chief’s son, and that’s why he found so much solace in you. You understood him better than anyone, you were there for him when he needed a shoulder to lean on.
That’s why he-
No. Katsuki’s crimson eyes flutter shut at the thought, his brow creasing into a frown. He couldn’t think those words about you, not yet at least. Not when you were wrapped up in the arms of another man.
The sound of wings flapping a moment later has his eyes snapping back open. It was the figure of a dragon that was headed straight for him, the sun setting behind the beast, only leaving the figure outlined by its silhouette.
Tyr raises his head but takes a deep breath to smell the air before relaxing his neck back to the ground and shutting his eyes to rest. Katsuki glances at the relaxed state of his dragon at the approaching shape in front of him.
A Nadder. Not just any Nadder. Gretta.
The purple-tinged dragon lands further inland than Katsuki and Tyr, and you slide off of her silently as you walk toward the pair. Katsuki sends a silent prayer to the gods to help him stay calm and normal as you walk up to him, a silent air about you.
“How did you find me,” is all he says. It’s not even worded as a question, it’s more an open-ended statement. Your face is stoic, but you take a step toward him, shrugging your shoulders once.
“I have a Deadly Nadder, remember? One of the best trackers out there. And,” you glance off toward the sunset, where you see a Thunderdrum jump up out of the water and fly off toward a distant island. But you continue, looking him straight in the eye, “You weren’t at dinner, and you didn’t seem okay when Kirishima showed up.”
Katsuki groans and turns away from you before muttering, “I don’t want to hear about that damn redhead.” You’re quiet, calculating a response. You don’t get the chance to say anything, because he pipes back up, “Listen, I know you’re here to tell me about how you accepted his courtship invitation. I’m happy for you.”
Katsuki’s voice was anything but happy though. It was strained, a tension to his voice you’d never heard, and you place a hand on his shoulder to try to get him to face you.
You try, “Kats-” “Just leave it,” he cuts you off and knocks your hand off of his shoulder, “I want you to be happy, even if that means you marry that big dumb blacksmith.” “Katsuki!” you yell, your eyes closing in frustration.
The blonde turns toward you then, shock evident on his features at the heightened sound of your voice. You sigh and take a step forward, facing him shoulder to shoulder.
You grab his right hand with your own, his palm rough and calloused from his training. Katsuki is silent as he watches you, his eyes sharp and waiting, not so different from Tyr’s fiery gaze.
“I didn’t,” you whisper. Katsuki’s red gaze bores into your own (colored) one, but no recognition flashes over his features, so you insist, “I didn’t, you know, accept his offer. I couldn’t.”
“Stop joking,” is all he replies with, moving to tug his hand out of your own, even though it's the last thing he wants to do. “Katsuki Bakugou, shut the hell up and listen to me,” you state firmly, your grip tightening on his large palm.
-Start music-
He freezes at the use of his full name and the curse words, something you never say, and you take the opportunity to thread your fingers through his own. You can feel the intensity of his gaze on you, and you know how tense the moment is just by how still he is.
“I didn’t accept his offer,” you say again, and you shuffle on your feet as you squeeze his hand, “But I didn’t deny it either.” You can see the hope in his eyes start to fade out, the idea of you still wanting Kirishima lingering in his mind.
“Kirishima is nice,” you murmur, “He’s kind, and handsome.” You can feel Katsuki’s body harden at your praise of the redhead, but you continue, “He’s always nice to the dragons when fitting them at the smithery, and he even picks flowers with the village’s little girls.”
Katsuki shuts his eyes and whispers, “Please, Y/n, don’t tell me how much you like another man to my face,” and then they reopen and he finishes, “I don’t think my heart can take it.”
You just give him a smile and bring your intertwined hands up to rest over your heart. You hold his gaze evenly and you push, “Kirishima is great. But he’s not amazing.”
The blonde-haired man swallows thickly, but stays quiet as you mumble, “He’s not the chieftain’s son. He’s not a hardened viking that knows every in and out of our island.”
This catches Katsuki’s attention, and his eyes widen as your voice and words overtake his brain, “He’s not my best friend, he’s not the one who whoops my ass in axe-throwing competitions, and he’s not the one who takes me fishing in the summer.”
The smile is growing on your face, and you suddenly get shy and look down at your boots as you mumble out, “He’s not you, Katsuki.”
You hear your name fall off Katsuki’s lips, but you don’t look up. He says your name louder this time, using his free hand to cup your cheek and tilt your face up to meet his crimson gaze.
“What are you trying to say?” is what he says. He needed to know if you were saying what he thought you were trying to say.
You lean into his touch, somehow both familiar and foreign, there was a softness to this touch you’d never felt, and you gaze into his eyes as you utter, “It’s you, Kats. It’s always been me and you.”
You see his gaze soften, and the weight of you being with another lover is lifted off of his shoulders. He leans into you, his nose brushing against your own as his forehead rests against your own. You can feel a new, intense wave of butterflies rush through your stomach at the intimacy of this touch, one you’d never experienced before with anyone.
Katsuki’s voice comes out deep and gravelly when he asks, “Y/n, how will you have me? Will you have me as your own? Or just as-” “Shut up and kiss me already,” you rush out, pulling him closer to you by his shoulder.
A groan falls from his lips at your demand, but he’s not one to argue as he leans forward, capturing your lips for himself. It’s everything he’d ever imagined and more, different. Your mouth was sweet, the tang of apple cider hanging onto the edges of your mouth.
You were warm against him, soft and pliable in his hands. Katsuki slides his hand from cupping your face to the back of your head, grabbing your neck, and pulling you flush against him. You gasp at the movement, and he takes that opportunity to deepen the kiss, his teeth coming to bite down on your lower lip before swiping his tongue across it as an apology.
The growls and rumbles of your dragons behind you make the two of you pull away, and while you swivel your head to look at the two peeping flying reptiles, Katsuki is left watching you.
When you turn back toward him, you see an intensity to his gaze that makes you lower your eyes, but he tuts and gains your attention before whispering, “Lady Y/n L/n of Island Naugost, will you do me the honors and go on a flight with me?”
You giggle at the cheesiness of his ask, something so out of character for him, but you nod with a wide grin and respond, “Chieftain-to-be Katsuki Bakugou of Island Naugost, I would love to go on a flight with you.”
He smirks down at you, leaning in slowly to press a chaste kiss to your lips before pulling away, throwing out three short whistles, and bringing Tyr to your sides. He rubs your neck softly before releasing his grip on you, climbing up to sit in Tyr’s saddle before offering you his hand.
“Milady?” he asks, his fingers reaching for your own. You glance toward Gretta before looking back at the blonde waiting for you and you give her two short whistles, and she immediately heads back towards the mainland.
You clasp onto Kastsuki’s hand, and he pulls you up into the saddle behind him, giving you the chance to wrap your arms around his waist. Tyr reaches back to nuzzle your foot, and you smile down at the moody Monstrous Nightmare as you settle into your seat.
“Are you ready?” Katsuki checks in, glancing over his shoulder only to find you resting your chin on the pad of his armor. He feels his heart flutter in his chest at the distant look in your eyes, and turns back straight to hide the pink dusting his cheeks. And it wasn’t from the sunset.
Tyr shuffles to the edge of the cliff, the deep oranges from the sunset glinting in harmony with the deep red of his scales, and in a few large flaps of his wings, the three of you are airborne. Katsuki lets Tyr fly smoothly around several small islands and rocky outposts on the outskirts of the island, the only sound being the pull of air on your clothes, the flapping of wings, and crashing from the water below you.
While flying wasn’t new to you in any sense, there was something so intimate and caring about the way Katsuki flew Tyr around. You could feel the connection between the two of them, and while they disagreed occasionally, like earlier in the day at the race, you knew they had a deep and intricate bond.
You lean forward from where your chin was resting on Katsuki’s shoulder and gently press them against his cheek in a soft kiss. His cheek is warm under your touch, and he turns toward you as you pull away, his eyes catching the shyness in your own (colored) gaze.
“C'mere,” he mumbles, turning so that you could slide up and into his lap. He made sure Tyr was flying smoothly before pulling you around to sit in front of him, with your back to Tyr’s head.
You were facing Katsuki, and with the sun setting behind him, he was gorgeously backlit. His features were hardened, yes, but the soft light helped smooth out his usual frown and scowl. 
He looked down at you and brushed a stray piece of hair behind your ear before whispering, “I’m not sure where we go from here, but we go together, alright?” You nod and offer him your hand, “When we get back to the Great Hall, I want us to be together.”
Katsuki cracks a smirk and taking your hand, mutters, “Hell, you can’t get rid of me now, Y/n/n, you’re stuck with me.” You giggle, which quickly becomes a playful scream as Katsuki grabs back onto Tyr’s horns and you are whisked off into the light of the dying sun.
A lifetime of memories of just being friends with Katsuki would remain at the front of your mind, but you were excited to see where this flight would take you. And while your future was uncertain with the tough blonde-haired viking, you knew that he was going to protect you until his last breath.
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meguwumibear · 8 months
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dabi x reader x hawks 
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wc 5.6k: contains dubcon due to alcohol and also because everyone is lying about their motives, dabi is insecure and hawks is kind of a jerk in this, it’s probably painfully obvious that this was my first time writing smut lol, it’s brief and probably cringy but fuck it, oral (f) receiving, two of the characters have sex for the first time, technically it’s a threesome, nondescript female reader but she is wearing a dress, reader also has a quirk but it isn’t all that important, i think that’s everything but always happy to add or tag new warnings if i missed anything, as always please ignore any typos <3
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It’s a horrible idea. Dangerous too. Sexist, even, for your boss to have proposed it, not that anyone would dare suggest such a thing to your boss’s face. You’re certainly not going to anyway. A paycheck’s a paycheck, and your rent is all but due. Plus, the Hero Public Safety Commission was full of those these days, full of horrible and dangerous and downright sexist ideas. What’s one more in the grand scheme of things? 
They’re getting desperate you think, because the League is getting so close to accomplishing their goal, gaining public favor bit by bit, inspiring minor uprisings all throughout Japan. But the HPSC needs the League, or groups like the League to exist in order to remain in power. What is a hero, or a hero commission, without a villain, without an enemy to fight or use to scare the public? Jobless, you reckon. Useless too.  
So, yeah, your agency needs the League and the villains in it to keep forcing the public to guzzle down its Kool-Aid, but they don’t need the League to be this powerful. Last week one of their lesser-known members, one of their high-end nomus—some monstrous thing they were calling Hood—sent the country’s number one hero to the infirmary with near irreparable injuries. (Not that you were complaining the man was kind of a jerk. As far as you’re concerned, the asshole had it coming). Hawks made it through the fight better off than his partner, but now he was stuck trying to maintain his cover with the League while he waited for the bulk of his feathers to regrow. 
And such was the prisoner’s dilemma. 
That’s where you came in, you, another cog in the HPSC’s corroding machine. Your quirk is so useless, you may as well not have one, but you’re smart and adaptable and follow orders just fine, so they figure you’re the next best person for the job. Plus, you’re a nobody; no one at this seedy bar is going to recognize you or clock you of all people as a threat.
The building is in the shitty part of town, which means its located in a place where most of the citizens actively resent, if not actually hate those goody two-shoes heroes—whose faces are plastered across everything these days from the tv screen to novelty cups—for some reason or another. Many of their quirks are too ‘villainous’ for them to rise through the ranks to herohood. Many of them are all too familiar with the euphemism collateral damage, used to sugarcoat reality, used to help citizens digest that innocent people die as a direct result of the activities of heroes. Due to the skirmishes that used to break out during their patrols, most of the pro’s gave up patrolling this area years ago. They figured it wasn’t worth the headache. Besides, the lot of them want to be loved and worshiped by the public, not feared and shunned, though they’re not above the occasional fearmongering if the situation warrants it.
And, anyway, the pros would have to wipe the whole town, not just this dive bar, off the map if they really wanted to earn a modicum of respect from the people living in it, and even then, the majority of the survivors would just continue to go on hating heroes and their archaic, oppressive system that predetermines who and what someone is based on something as asinine as chance. You can pick your nose and you can pick your friends, but you can’t pick your quirk!   
The place fucking reeks as if the owners of the joint haven’t once bothered to clean it. Years of sweat and vomit and grime stain the sticky floorboards of the place. Your shoes stick to it as you pick your way to one of the open seats at the bar. It’s disgusting, nauseating. It’d taken you the better part of an hour to get used to the odor, and even now you can’t help but wrinkle your nose when some new, pungent stench happens to waft its way up it.  
You’re not normally a big drinker, so you don’t know for sure, but you’re pretty certain the bartender is watering down your vodka cranberries. That would explain why the booze here is so cheap anyway, and why it doesn’t burn so bad when it goes down despite the quality of it. Every shelf here is bottom. Most of the patrons manage to suck down an ample amount of the stuff, just the right percentage to get drunk enough for them to hobble all the way home in a drunken stupor, so in the end you suppose it all evens out. 
The worst part of your evening isn’t the cheap booze or stinky floorboards, though. No. The worst part of your evening, by far, is the costume you were forced to wear to fit in with the rancorous crowd. Your uniform tonight is hardly a uniform at all. The commissioners wanted you to look as enticing as possible for the League—they were largely a group of men after all—so they’d sent you into battle with your best features on display. The straps of the too short dress you’re in keep slipping down your shoulders. None of your clothes fit the please-objectify-me vibe your bosses were going for, so you had to buy something last minute.  
Once again, the plan is horrible and dangerous and downright sexist. 
They’re going to reimburse you for the dress, you decide, and for the drinks. They better give you overtime pay too since they have you burning the midnight oil after your grueling nine-to-five. And, if they really, really want to keep you around and scantily clad, they may as well throw in an asshole bonus too, because your boss is an asshole for having suggested this and so are all of the men at the bar you have to reject-somebody call PETA because I’m about to tear up that pussy. The biggest, baddest asshole of them all though, is Hawks.  
Because Hawks is late. Late enough for you to worry that something may have happened to him, late enough for you to think that the League may have finally caught onto his ruse. But, you’re literally being paid to sit on the stool of that dilapidating bar and look pretty until he shows, so you don’t deviate from the plan. If they’ve caught him, you’ll burn incense for him, you decide. Just once though. The two of you aren’t that close.  
No incense are needed however, because just after one in the morning he saunters into the bar with the A-rank villain that you’re targeting. Alias Dabi, real name unknown, was the mastermind between the earlier attack on Endeavor. The HPSC doesn’t know much about him other than the fact that the fire his quirk allows him to generate is so hot his flames are blue in color. This shouldn’t be a problem for you, the HPSC insisted, as long as you don’t piss him off.  
By the looks of them, this isn’t the first bar they’ve hit tonight; they’re both a little wobbly on their feet, both a little green in the face. Hawks, who you sometimes swear is more bird than human, finds you quickly among the crowd with that avian sight of his. He exchanges a few choice glances with you, glances that Dabi isn’t stupid enough to miss, which means that the asshole is definitely smarter than he looks. By a large margin. 
The villain exchanges a few quick words with Hawks, and then he’s making his way towards you, gait wobbly, stumbling over his own two boot clad feet that scrape and drag against that dingy floor.  
He’s shit faced, you realize. Shit faced, and perceptive. You wonder if the liquor burning through his body acts as a quirk suppressant like it does for some heroes. You hope so, if the few details that you know about him are true because you really, really don’t want to make the sticky stool you’re sitting on your final resting place.  
“You crushin’ on my friend,” he slurs out when he’s finally close enough to you. “Do the,” he burps; it smells like fireball, “do the…are the wings doin’ it for ya?”  
Okay, so not as perceptive as he looks, but absolutely as drunk as. “I was thinking about the chicken I ate for dinner,” you reply. “Fried it up really crispy and served it with some soy sauce and steamed white rice.”  
His brows furrow, like he can’t tell if you’re joking or not. Then, he’s smiling an ugly smile, lips pulled back, canines bared as if to bite. “Do ya,” another burp bubbles out of his open mouth, “do ya know who that is?” 
You roll your eyes. “Does it look like I live under a fucking rock?” 
“Hmm,” he hums as he gives you a once over. You feel your cheeks flush under his gaze. His irises are an electrifying blue color. They seem to illuminate the silver staples surrounding his eyes. He frowns. “You’re not from around here,” he decides. “You smell too nice.” 
“So could you if you learned how to use a shower,” you reply.  
He shrugs and plops himself down on the stool next to you. “Hurts my skin,” he says. 
You wonder if that’s true. It could be, because the only other thing the HPSC seems to know about the guy aside from his abilities is that he’s covered from head to toe in nasty, puckering burns. He’s doing a good job hiding them now, but you can still see the healed blisters on his face, on his cheek, on his neck. 
“You got a quirk?” he asks when he catches you staring. 
“A useless one,” you reply. He raises his eyebrows as if awaiting a demonstration. You turn to him and face your palms towards the ceiling. Little rays of colorful light burst from them. They’re pretty, but they deal no damage. The damn things aren’t even hot, just colors, just light. That’s why they sent you, of course: because your quirk is useless. Well, because your quirk is useless but you’re pretty and you really really need the money.
Dabi bursts out laughing when he sees the colors dancing around in your palms, so you let the light abate. “Oh my,” he wheezes, “Oh my, fuck-what do they even call you? Rainbow Brite?” 
“They don’t call me anything,” you hiss. “I’m not a fucking hero.” 
He’s humming again, “so whadaya doin’ here then, huh?” The guy is so out of it you think maybe you should call off the mission, try and work him a different night, but then he’s tentatively raising a scarred hand to twirl at a bit of hair hanging in front of your face. So, you say, 
“I’m here to piss off my parents.” 
He must like that answer too because his eyes and mouth are widening in unison. “Piss off your parents, huh,” he mumbles. You’re not sure he believes you, but it looks like he wants to. You wonder if he became a villain to piss off his.  
“Yeah,” you say. “Yeah, I want to piss off my asshole parents.” Then, “You were wrong you know,” you say, figuring now’s as good a time as any to lay the trap. “It wasn’t your friend I was crushing on earlier. It was the man he walked in with.” 
Now, he really, really doesn’t look like he believes you. He’s become twitchy, fidgety, like he isn’t sure what to do with himself, like he’s never had a girl come onto him before. The guy looks like he wants to say something else, but Hawks is suddenly saddling up to you. “Who’s your new friend, Dabi?” he asks, snaking a protective arm around your waist.  
Dabi’s expression sours at the intrusion, lips drooping pathetically low, pulling at the staples of his cheeks, “Didn’t get her name.” 
Hawks is wrapping another arm around you now, hugging you flush against his broad chest. He runs warmer than most humans because he’s a fucking bird, so there’s already a healthy layer of sweat dampening his shirt, a healthy layer of sweat, that you’re now pressed up against. He rests his chin against the top of your head. “That was a cute quirk you have, angel. Wanna see mine?” He doesn’t give you a chance to answer. One of the few feathers that’s fully recovered comes loose and he shoots it across one of the straps of your dress, close enough to your skin to break it. The useless fabric flutters against your flesh. 
The action leaves you speechless. Is he trying to sabotage your mission? Is he trying to get you killed?  
“It’s Hawks, right?” you say, trying to salvage the night. “Does the Public Safety Commission know you like to fuck around in bars known to quench the thirst of A-rank villains?” 
He tightens his grip on your waist, squeezing hard enough to cut off your breath. “What the HPSC doesn’t know won’t hurt them. And they’re not gonna know about this. Don’t you know that snitches get stiches, kid? I’d hate for something to happen to that pretty face of yours.” 
Oh fuck. What is this? Is he drunk? This certainly wasn’t part of your briefing. An introduction: that’s all Hawks was needed for. An introduction, and then he was to make like a banana and split. Only, he doesn’t seem ready to leave you just yet, and you can’t tell if his deviation from the plan is to protect you or put him back in the good graces of the League or worse.  
“You know,” Dabi’s words cut through your racing thoughts. His voice is tiny, quiet, shy, “fucking the country’s number two hero isn’t exactly gonna piss off your parents.” 
“Excuse me?” 
Dabi sucks in a deep breath and looks at you, “I said, if you wanna piss off your parents, you’re in the arms of the wrong guy.” 
Behind you, Hawks chuckles. “I’ve got a nice, cozy bed, angel. Custom made to fit my wings. Even has Egyptian cotton sheets.” What is he playing at? “You don’t even want to know where Dabi sleeps. He’s got some shitty ass mattress on the dirty ass floor.” 
Dabi’s sneering now. It’s the first time all night he’s looked this scary, the first time all night he’s looked this sinister, his eyes wild like a rabid animal, his fingers clenched into fists. “Hawks chirps like a bird when he cums,” he spits. Somehow, you don’t doubt that’s true. 
“Aw, relax, Dabi,” Hawks giggles. “I’m not trying to be a cuck. I’m just saying that my bed is big enough for the three of us, and yours isn’t even technically fully functional.” 
He can’t be serious. (He is). 
He’s going to let the guy fuck you so the League stops questioning his motives.
You swallow down the lump that’s forming in your throat, determine not to let the bird of all people through you off kilter. “You’re both so drunk,” you say, but neither of them seems to care. Hawks are birds of prey after all, villains too, and you’ve just made yourself their game. 
“You must be drunk too,” Hawks purrs into your ear. “If you’re contemplating fucking him.” 
Dabi slams his palms into the table and pushes himself off the stool, his anger tangible, scorching and smoky. The part of the bar where his hands have been is charred, black and ugly. You think you see a frown tugging at the corner of his lips, and, actually, now that you think about it, he doesn’t look angry at all as he turns from you to make his exit. He just looks kind of sad.  
Your hands reach for him without you telling them to and bury themselves into the warm fabric of his jacket. “Dabi,” you whisper, his name barely audible over the cacophonies of the bar. And then you’re tugging at the jacket, trying to pull him back to you.  
“You fucking mocking me?” he spits, whipping around so fast the leather is yanked from your hands. He sounds soberingly bitter.  
“No, it’s just, I…” you just what? You just genuinely want to fuck him? Maybe you should let him go. 
“Aw,” Hawks coos, then he’s giggling again, “come on, man, don’t be jealous. Sounds like the girl might actually be into you. Call a portal. You know you want to. Don’t you want to show the little lady what you’re capable of?” 
Dabi stares at you for a moment, eyes hot and accusing. You shoot him what you hope is a sweet smile, but the grin might just betray how nervous you suddenly feel. It must relax him though, because he’s saying, “need your address,” and sending a text to his teammate that makes portals and then you’re standing in the middle of Hawks’ kitchen. 
There are perks to being with the country’s number two hero. Fame for one, sure, salary for another. Logically, you understand that it pays to be number two, but knowing the truth and seeing it right before your very eyes are two completely different things. You doubt the hero can even fucking cook, but he’s got not one, but two stoves anyway. His refrigerator has one of those water dispensing attachments that can sense how much water is in your glass as it fills it and stop accordingly.  
You’re definitely asking for a raise after all this. (Assholes).  
Hawks finally lets go of you; his shirt slowly peeling from where it’s attached itself to your back. It’s not like you could go anywhere now. You have no idea where he lives and no way to find your way back home without either his help or the help of a certain, portal opening villain.  
On Monday, you decide, you’re going to kill him, you’re going to knock his head against the window of his office so he dies like some stupid fucking bird that didn’t realize the glass was there. Tonight though, well, you’re still not sure how tonight’s going to go.  
He pours the three of you drinks, and Dabi downs his greedily. You look at yours, uncertain if further inebriating yourself would be wise, and set it down on the marbled island Hawks is lazily lounging against.  
Hawks looks right at home. Dabi looks way out of place. He pours himself another shot of vodka and shoots that back too. 
None of you are saying anything. You’re not really sure what to say.  
“Soooo,” Hawks eventually drawls after he finishes his drink. “Bed?” 
“Hawks-” you start, but he’s interrupting you.  
“Pretty girls get to call me Keigo,” and you’re not calling him that anywhere but the office or the moniker will be ruined for you. Forever. “Come on. I know you want to. You’ve come this far.” 
You’ve never wanted to, actually. You’ve never even thought about it before because you work with the asshole which means you understand what an absolute dick he can be. You know that he’s obsessed with his celebrity status and that more often than not he rejects jobs that don’t earn him enough internet clout. He’s more concerned with replacing Endeavor as the country’s number one hero than he is saving it. So, no, you’ve never ever thought about him that way before.  
“We can ditch the villain if you want.” 
“The villain’s who I came for,” you spit, desperately trying to understand what the fuck Hawks thinks he’s doing soliciting you like this.  
While you wait for Hawks to respond, Dabi drapes himself over your shoulders. His body is way warmer than you’d anticipated.  Warmer than Hawks, even. You suppose it’s a side effect of his quirk. “Yeah,” hiccup, “she came for me, birdbrain.” Hawks raises his stupid thick eyebrows like he’s challenging you to walk away now, but you’ve never been one to shy away from a challenge.  
Dabi sways a little bit behind you, clutching at you for support. The guy is having trouble keeping himself upright. It wouldn’t really be ethical for you to do anything with the villain tonight. Perhaps that’s why Hawks is pushing you to. Maybe he wants to see if you’re willing to get your hands dirty. Maybe he wants to punish Dabi for the attack that nearly cost him his wings. 
“Sooo,” Hawks repeats, “bed, then?” 
The three of you do end up in his bed, and it’s every bit as big as he promised it would be, long enough to accommodate his wings and then some. There’s a surprising amount of pillows and blankets on the thing. Some clothes too. The sight of it has you laughing because, because, “oh my fucking g-you made yourself a fucking nest?” 
Hawks eyes darken at your jest. He rolls himself on top of you and pins your wrists above your head. “I don’t appreciate that tone of voice, sweetheart,” he growls, nipping harshly at your neck. You whine and thrash underneath him, trying and failing to push him off. The HPSC put you through some basic physical training when they hired you, but Hawks was the country’s number two hero. You could no more stand against him than you could stem an oncoming storm or stop the push and pull of the tides. 
When he final releases you, it’s to shrug off his pants. You can feel a bruise forming where his mouth met your neck. “Get her dress off,” he instructs Dabi, but the man is as useless as your quirk. Apparently the only thing he’s good for is sicking nomus on heroes.  
Because the villain is resting on his knees on the edge of the bed staring down at you, hands clenching and unclenching at his side, unsteady, unsure, like a jittery animal that’s been left out too long and forgot how to trust. His hesitancy would almost be endearing if it wasn’t making you so fucking nervous. 
Nerves. That’s all the heat pooling in the pit of your belly is, a raw, exposed, nerve. That’s also why, when Dabi finally works up the courage to reach for your dress, you fuck up, you flinch, and send those scarred hands of his skittering back to his lap. He sinks in on himself, shoulders slumping pathetically low, eyes unwilling to meet yours, more deflated balloon than man in that moment. His posture is so oddly heartbreaking it makes you forget about Hawks and his agenda, makes you forget that technically you’re on the clock and that the villain pouting before you is your mark.  
Wait…pouting. Pouting?! Is A-ranked villain Dabi, actually pouting? All because you had the audacity to express your hesitation? Did his reputation and actions alone not earn him a bit of hesitancy from others? 
You reach towards him to card your fingers through his. He jerks away like you’ve burned him. 
“Dude,” Hawks scoffs—and, right, Hawks is here; you’re on a mission…you are on a mission, right? “You’re fucking embarrassing me.” Hawks reaches up to tear the flimsy thing off of you, but you stop him. 
“No,” you say, and when he doesn’t stop, “no, no, Hawks, enough. I want him to do it. I want Dabi to do it.” 
Hawks’ eyebrows raise like he can’t believe you just said that. Dabi looks similarly shocked. And, when Dabi is still looking at you all dopey and unsure, you add, “Please, Dabi. Please, please, please.” 
A sharp pain snaps your attention back to the man between your legs. He’s pinched you; that son of a bitch pinched you. “What’s gotten into you,” he bites out, suddenly serious, which annoys you because this whole fucking set up was his idea. 
But like, yeah, okay, fair. His question is a valid one. What has gotten into you?  
“I got her,” Dabi’s saying before you can respond to Hawks. He’s finally found the courage to paw at the fabric of your dress. So he’d liked your begging. Figures. The alcohol has killed Dabi’s gross motor functions, so you wiggle a little to help him yank the thing off of you.  
He settles back against the pillows after and pulls you in between his legs so that your back is flush against his chest. The man’s sweating bullets; the white t-shirt he refuses to rid himself of is moist against your back.  
Hawks’ brows are furrowed like he’s not quite sure what to do now that you and Dabi have finally submitted, which brings you an odd sort of satisfaction, even if you’re still not really sure about the sex that you’re about to have. 
Behind you, Dabi buries his nose into the knotting hairs at the crown of your head and inhales deeply. “She smells so good,” he moans, and you think he might be a little crazy because you’ve done nothing to your hair to make it smell nice except wash it. Hours ago.  
Hawks looks amused now, watching Dabi breath you in. “Think she tastes as good as she smells?” he asks, his tone is coy again, unwavering. He slots himself back between your legs and uses his knees to spread them. “Should we find out?” He yanks hard at your panties and the elastic gives way, snapping against your skin. 
“Hawks, wait, wait,” you protest, squirming beneath him. 
It’s Dabi who placates you. “Shh, shh,” he coos, rubbing up and down your arms with the warm palms of his hands. “Let ‘im make you feel good,” he mumbles. He hooks his legs around your own to help Hawks spread them.  
Your heart beats ponderously against your ribs, threatening to break them. You stare up at Hawks’ unusually high ceiling, blood rushing in your ears, waiting for the inevitable to happen. You’re glad the lights are off and the curtains over his windows are pulled shut. If they weren’t, he’d definitely see how scared you are right now. It’s a fear unworthy of your job title. 
“Hey,” Hawks says, soft for the first time all night. “Hey, hey look at me.” He tugs gently at your chin with his forefinger and thumb. There’s a tenderness in those golden eyes of his that wasn’t there before. “You gonna let me or what?” he asks, and, oh, like you have a choice? 
You nod. (You may as well). 
His head dips between your thighs and he plants a kiss on one. The action is unexpectedly intimate. It leaves you flustered and hot. He rests his head against the same spot he’s just kissed. His breath is warm against your slit. And, yeah, okay, fine, you’re wet for him. Aroused and sticky and slick. 
He tongues experimentally at you a few times before setting the pace. It’s slower than you thought it would be, but it still has your back arching and your toes curling. Dabi’s fingers wander up and down your body, memorizing every curve of it while Hawks laps greedily away at you. You reach your peak embarrassingly quick. 
“Hawks, Hawks,” you yelp, reaching down to grab at his hair. “I’m gonna-” 
One last well placed lick has you reeling. You cry out as you orgasm, gripping his blonde hair so tightly you yank out a few. Hawks pulls away smirking, mouth dripping with your juices. He licks at his lips a little, on purpose, you think, just to further degrade you. “Just as I thought,” he says. “Sweet like sugar.” 
You bury your head in your hands. 
“Wanna go?” he’s addressing Dabi now. “I got her all nice and pliant for you.” 
“He’s drunk,” you protest, but Dabi’s climbing out from under you anyway.  
“I’d want you sober, angel,” he says. “You’re probably worse for me than booze.” 
You’re about to reply but all coherent thought is lost to you as Hawks pulls the villain in for an open-mouthed kiss. Dabi groans into Hawks’ mouth, licking viciously at the man’s lips. Hawks chirps like a bird when he cums. Have they done this before? Is this normal for them? 
Dabi smacks his lips when Hawks finally pulls away from him. “You are sweet, sweetheart. Sweetest thing I’ve had in ages.” Then he’s reaching for you. 
You bolt upright because you can’t do this. You can’t fuck this man. Not here. Not in Hawks’ bed. Not now. Not ever.  
Two stray feathers wrap around your wrist and trap you against the bed. “Where do you think you’re going?” Hawks asks. “Don’t you know it’s rude to tease.” 
Dabi’s crawling on top of you now, scrawny legs straddling your own, caging your quivering form beneath him. The tears you didn’t even know you were fighting back begin to fall. “Wait, wait,” you cry. “I’ve never…I haven’t…” 
Dabi stills above you, sits back on his own two legs to keep pressure off of you. “You’re-you’re a virgin?” he asks. He looks bewildered, like he couldn’t possibly have heard right. “You-you’ve never…” 
Behind him Hawks looks stressed, all previous bravado abandoning the features of his face. He’s grinding his angular jaw together, golden eyes darting from you to the man on top of you then back to you again.  
Dabi lets himself collapse against you, hip to hip, chest to chest. He drops his perspiring forehead against your own. His black hairs tickle your cheeks as he whispers, “You’d be my first too, you know.” He ruts gently against you, the fabric of the denim jeans he’s still in rubs uncomfortably against your slit. “You’d-you’d be on only.” 
He’s not what you expected him to be. Fragile, somehow, like something that needed to be handled with care, and a bit insecure. Against your better judgement, you place your palm against his cheek and cup it. He closes his eyes as he leans into it, bringing his own hand to yours to push the palm firmer against him.   
“Can I-can I please…” his voice tapers off. 
When he drops his hand back to the bed, you ghost your fingertips along his scars, taking extra care not to agitate the staples that bind him together. He pulls away from you then, back onto his knees. “You don’t,” he whispers, “we can do it doggy. So you don’t have to see.” 
You shake your head, “No.” He frowns. “No, no, I want you like this. I wanna see.” You reach for his shirt so you can pull it off of him, but he snags your wrists before you get the chance. 
“No touching,” he says, as he loosens his belt; he pulls his pants down around his thighs. When you realize what he’s doing, your heart flutters like a butterfly against your chest. He’s hiding. He doesn’t want you to see or feel his scars. 
“Dabi,” you whisper, but then he’s pushing down his boxers and the sight of his leaking cock knocks the rest of your sentence clean out of your mouth.  
Even Hawks blurts out, “Dude,” because though the skin of his dick is silky, smooth and unmarred by whatever flames ate away at the rest of his body, the thing is pierced from tip all along the shaft.  
If Dabi hears Hawks, he doesn’t acknowledge him, too busy rubbing the tip of his leaking cock against your opening. “Come on,” he pleads. “Wanna feel you. Wanna make you cum. Please. Please. Please.” 
You should say no. He’s drunk, not thinking clearly, brain fuzzy from all the alcohol coursing through his veins. But you say, “Dabi, please,” and that’s all he needs to hear before he’s pushing himself inside of you. 
“Fuck,” he groans as your peachy walls swallow his length. “Fuck, you’re so fucking beautiful. So fucking perfect. Can’t believe you let me do this. Can’t believe you’re mine.” He babbles nearly the whole time he’s inside you. Nonsense about how good you feel and how soft you are and how you were made to take his cock. 
He drops a hand to swipe at your swollen clit. He wasn’t kidding about wanting to make you cum. He rubs rough, inexperienced circles around it as he begs you to cum for him. “Does that feel good?” he pants, looking at you expectantly.  
“Feels-” honestly it stings a bit, and you’re so hot you think you might die of heat stroke. Though he’s eager to please, his ministrations are intense—all guess work with way to much pressure considering you’ve already cum once already—and you think he may be having a difficult time controlling his quirk. “Feels good,” you say anyway. “Feels so good.” 
Dabi looks absolutely elated. “Yeah? Feels good? I’m making you feel good? Can you cum for me, hmm? Do you have another one in ya? Come on baby, cum for me. Cum all over my cock,” he whines. 
You do. “Dabi,” you cry as a second orgasm slams into you. “Dabi. Dabi. Dabi.” 
“That’s-ugh, that’s not my fucking name,” he swears, but then he’s spilling his hot seed into you as he fucks you through your climax.  
When he’s finished, he flops against you, head between your breasts. Absentmindedly, you rake your fingers through his hair. You should probably scold him for cumming inside, but he looks peaceful for the first time all night, so you don’t. 
“Shit,” Hawks swears from somewhere in the room. You’d forgotten he was there, “Shit. Shit. Fuck.” 
“It’s alright,” you sigh, suddenly tired. “Tomorrow I’ll take a pill. 
“This was a horrible idea,” he says. 
Dabi purrs gently against your chest, asleep already. You stroke your fingers down the notches of his spin, “I agree.” 
The next morning, the three of you wake to the sound of a phone ringing. Hawks answers the thing and makes himself scarce so quickly, you know it can only be the HPSC on the other line. 
“He’s,” Dabi whispers once Hawks is out of earshot, wrapping his arms around you possessively, “he’s gonna betray us, gonna betray the League, gonna betray me.” 
And you feel like you’ve been tossed into a vat of ice water because fuck so are you. 
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astridthevalkyrie · 4 months
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chand ko chakor dekhe, tujkho naseebo wala (the bird looks at the moon, a lucky one looks at you) | hawks x reader | chapter 6
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“You’ve died twice? From clocks? “I know you’re not blind to the rocks and debris flying literally everywhere! The world would be better off without you in it!” you scream at the villain. The machine is even louder as it breaks and jams into the ground. “Flying building pieces or something, I don’t know—one hit me yesterday. The first day I got knocked into a wall, and then I woke up hugging my body pillow. Same thing the next day. And the next, and the next. Did my number three pro hero partner save me? No, he let me get stuck in a fucking time loop!” Or, you’ll do a lot of things with infinite time on your hands, but falling in love with Keigo Takami isn’t one of them.
a/n: yesssss update's out have a fun time reading!
warnings: suicide attempts (with the understanding that she will reset), hawks pins reader to a building, rudeness, icky romantic stuff 🤮
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“Whoa.” Your hands come up in front of your chest as the kid’s arm crackles—crackles?—with lightning. “Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa hang on, I don’t fight children!”
You don’t think the nerd hears you, because he’s jumping forward with wide, fearful, despaired eyes. “Detroit”—of course he’s an All Might copycat, USA lover, star spangled stripes, would still smash their number one hero, though more like she’d smash you because she’s super strong—”SMAAASH!”
Fuck your life. Truly.
—————————————————
You go back to the beach the next today. Not to kill All Might again, even if you did cheat and break the vow you’d made to yourself the first day you officially started training to be a hero (haha your soul is broken you’re going to hell except you’re not because you’re stuck in a time loop and ohmygosh maybe this is hell maybe when you got hit by the rock that first day you died what the shiiiiit). No no, you won’t kill him again, because you’re just far more interested in who this tiny little green loser is and just how he KOed you with one punch.
That’s not, like, easy. You killed the top ten heroes minus the dumb bird! By right of passage, that makes you the number one! Or at least the number two if Hawks is de facto one even though he totally isn’t. He admitted MULTIPLE times that he would have just let you kill him. Who needs a flimsy number one hero like that?
Speaking of flimsy number one heroes.
You’re probably losing your mind more than you thought. Why are you looking at a chibi version of All Might?
Goddamn are heroes stupid! You’re perched up just barely out of view and neither the LITERAL NUMBER ONE or his protege have noticed you as they eat and yap about CLASSES of all things!
Okay, so when you killed All Might, he wasn’t exactly himself because he hasn’t had his Snickers bar yet or whatever. Which means you didn’t really kill the number one, and so the right of passage still leaves you at number two (yeah yeah, de facto Hawks number two, then you). 
So if Small Might (good one! that’s original!) can’t fight you, that would mean the real foe you’d need to defeat is YOUNG MIDRORIYA! Only problem is that YOUNG MIDORIYA! is a child and y’know, you’re not quite that comfortable in your amorality yet. Already you feel queasy every time you think about the way you killed LightMight. 
Still, one doesn’t just go around California Cabana-ing every single person they see, so when YOUNG MIDORIYA! starts walking back to whichever hovel he crawled out of, you follow him until you see someone trip in front of him, large drink in their hands. 
What would have soaked his shirt now completely coats his face with just a liiiiitle bit of wind.
Respect your elders, kid. You’ll never be the next Mini Might with that attitude. Although, that isn’t any reason to apologize that profusely to the lady that spilled the drink. No, there’s no need to buy her a new drink either, your face got soaked, not her’s, she was the one not looking where she was going. OFFERING AN AUTOGRAPH FROM ERASERHEAD? HUH? DID SHE LOSE HER DRINK OR DID SHE LOSE HER WHOLE GODDAMN FAMILY?
Oh, she doesn’t even know who Eraserhead is. Ha. That’s right, walk home with your sorry little green head all wet. That’ll teach you not to bribe civilians.
—————————————————
The next day, you wake up, ignore Hawks’ text first thing in the morning, open your window and jump out. Then you wake up in your bed again, and repeat. Repeat. Repeat. It’s entertaining for all of six minutes before the nothingness and despair becomes passionless.
What’s left? What more is there?
Well, it was kinda fun taking Ryukyu up to space (no it wasn’t?). You could try that again. Opening the window, you go up this time, instead of down.
Today, you’ll try to reach the sun.
First, you’re shot by someone who must think you were a stray bird. First, rude. Second, still illegal. Rot in jail. You love being a pro hero, the police do whatever you say with overt rudeness but begrudging submission. 
Second, you look into the sun too long and uh. Die. That one’s embarrassing.
Third, claws dig into your hips and yank you down. 
“Hey!” You scratch at the hands assisting gravity in bringing you closer to the ground. “What the hell, what are you doing? You never get here this early!”
“What are you doing? Where are you even going?”
“I will kick you in the balls if you don’t let me go, you dumb shit!”
“You’re so nice,” Hawks drawls, and his legs wrap around yours too, one arm around your front to pin your arms to the side. Now it’s only his wings keeping you afloat, his air giving you flight. It infuriates you, appealing muscles aside. “Someone just took a picture of us, by the way. Have fun explaining that one.”
You growl as fiercely as humanly possible, wriggling in his grasp. “Stupid stupid stupid bird impedes justice, gets murdered for it.”
“Too wordy for a hashtag.”
“Okay, how’s about—” It makes your chest hurt when you do it, but you suck in wind towards you using your own breath, and shoot it down to throw his arms away from you. “Hashtag I Did Hawks’ Dad!”
His wings flap as he falls, but he catches himself in no time. You’re propelling back up already, clouds not even within touching distance yet. Not that you wanna touch them. They’re really cold. Might as well touch Endeavor’s heart while you’re at it.
“For your information.” His nails graze your nape this time, and he grips the back of your uniform. With a grunt, he pulls you back again, too strong for those weak birdy bones. You shoot downwards, gasping. “That would make you a criminal fucker.”
You’re sideways, hair twisting in strange ways as you glare up at him. His wings expand impressively, blocking the sun and giving you a good look at a world of crimson gold. 
“Sorry about your dirtbag father. Can you get out of the fucking way?”
Hawks holds up a finger with a condescending look, pointing to his right, then his left. “See these? These are legitimate directions to fly in. Up is nothing. Up doesn’t have anything for you.”
“You’re a fake friend,” you spit, jetting up with a fist raised. 
He blocks, immediately raising his leg to kick you, but you saw that move coming because sometimes you watch his fight compilations for entertainment (and his compilations in real life too, duh). His foot connects with your arm, and the sunlight gleams in his visor. “Is that so? Elaborate for me.”
“Do you know how fucking bored I am? Do you have any idea how much I hate every single fucking person on this planet?”
You land a square hit on his chest; the victory is short lived. Feathers sneak into your sleeves and pull you down, ignoring your kicking and screaming.
“Who could you possibly hate?” he sings.
“You, for starters, winged piece of shit! And Endeavor, yeah, that’s right, dickrider. Cry about it. I hate All Might too—did you know he’s a fraud? And his stupid ass sidekick, or ex boyfriend, or whatever, I paid him a visit and every time he’s about to tell me my future I end up dying, because life hates me just as much as I hate life! I’m not even allowed to know how I go out! Ryuku and Best Jeanist think they can appeal to my better nature, well, I DON’T HAVE ONE! Oh, I hope you get to marry someone someday, Hawks, and I hope they cheat on you and take all your money.”
It might look like you’re flailing, but you’re not. You’re just trying to air out your own clothes to get the feathers out. The man who had taken a picture of you is not full on recording the fight you and Hawks are having.
You flash him two matching middle fingers. 
“Stop it,” Hawks snarls, apparently fed up now (one word against Endeavor and Fanboy Hawks comes out to play). “That shit’ll go viral, you know it will.”
“Sorry to ruin your perfect image, golden boy.” You finally rip the last feather out of your sleeve, biting it in half and spitting it out just to spite him. “Kiss my ass—fuck!”
You’re pinned. Fully against the building. The feathers aren’t under your clothes, they don’t need to be. They connect with each other to form a link that pins your ankles and wrists individually and before you can suck in any air a few more stuff into your mouth as a makeshift gag. Upside down. “I’m not worried about my image, songbird. Your popularity rating is at an all time low lately.”
Because you don’t pose for posers the way he does. And also maybe how not child friendly you are in interviews. Maaaybe because most of the other heroes don’t even like you enough to team up with you.
Not! That! It! Matters!
Hawks can read you well enough from your eyes. He maneuvers his body upside down to look at you face up, and looks into your gaze with a slight quirk of his lips. “What’s the matter, Nightingale? You hate hero society all of a sudden?”
NO SHIT.
“You wanna skip patrol today?”
NO.
“Why not?”
WE’LL BE CALLED TO FIGHT CLOCKINTHEHOLE ANYWAY AND IF WE DON’T GET THERE IN TIME PEOPLE GET INJURED AND YOU GET ALL SAD FOR THE REST OF THE DAY.
“Sorry, gonna need your mouth to transcribe that one.” The gag is lifted and before you can scream he covers your mouth with his hand, “Hey,” he coos, looking like his hair is flying up, “I’m serious. We can skip patrol, or I can do it on my own. I’ll cover for you, no problem.”
“Dude,” you choke, and the wetness running up your temple makes you realize you’re crying, “I wanna die.”
His face changes immediately, dropping every bit of his persona in an instant. The feathers loosen and release you, dropping you, and he catches you bridal style before you can turn on Aerial. 
“Alright, hang on.” His face is pained as he nudges your window open, carrying you in. “Hang on.”
The blood rushes back to your head, and the tears fall normally. He places you against your headboard, right next to the body pillow you always wake up next to. The sight of it makes you cry harder.
“Hey, hey.” Just like he did every time you tried to manipulate fighting tactics out of him to use against Endeavor, Hawks’ thumbs come up to brush your tears away. He sits at the edge of your bed, as though he’s visiting you in the hospital. “Hey, pretty girl, c’mon. Talk to me. Tell me everything. Let me help you.”
Your hands tangle in your own hair and your eyes shut, looking every bit the crazy lady you’ve become. “I want to fly into the sun. Please, just let me do that.”
“I can’t,” he pleads, taking his visor off and setting it aside. His jacket goes next, and he drapes it over you like the two of you aren’t indoors. And not on a date. He’s watched one too many cheesy romcoms. His favorite is John Tucker Must Die. You think that’s because he has mommy issues.
“I can’t,” he repeats, nudging himself next to you and moving your hands from your hair to your lap. His own hands go up to pat your hair down, and brush your shoulders, touch as light as a feather. 
He’s grooming you. Dumb bird. 
A painful sob escapes you, and you fall into him as he rubs your arms, your back, your hair. His bodysuit quickly becomes wet with your tears, but he doesn’t seem to mind, lips on your temple and arms tight around you. He even leans down and kisses a tear straight off your cheek.
“I’ve been living the same day again and again. I’ve lost count of the days. I killed people and I manipulated you and you keep helping me but nothing works. Everyday I have to go through this. Everyday the universe finds a way to kill me. I haven’t—” Your own wail cuts you off, and he squeezes you closer. “I haven’t seen nighttime in forever! I’ll forget what nighttime looks like soon, I’m so sick of the sun!”
He doesn’t say anything. Sometimes he believes you straight away, sometimes he doesn’t, but either way he eventually takes it in stride. He cheers you up. He takes you places or he talks and talks and talks until you’re laughing, laughing so hard you almost don’t feel the pain when you die.
His lips burn on your skin. He keeps them on your temple, warming you far more than his jacket does. 
“I hate telling you this every time,” you sniff, “I wish there was a way I could fast forward it.”
Still, he doesn’t talk. He moves instead, holding you to his heart like you’re.
Gold.
When Hawks does speak, his voice is thicker than normal, like he’s holding back something. Tears of his own, or a confession. Too many times he’s seen you vulnerable now, even if he doesn’t remember, and you don’t think you’ll ever see him in such a state. 
“If you wanna fly into the sun, I won’t stop you.”
You look at him. No hint of a lie in those golden eyes. Pulling away from the safety you’d embraced for a second, you sit back and swallow. “Yeah? No lie?”
“No lie. You’ll come back, right? The day will reset. So it’s okay.”
“Yeah.” Unless today is finally the last day. But you doubt it. You’ll know when it is. If it ever comes.
“Then you can go. Or…”
A few minutes ago, you’d have jumped out the window the second he stopped holding you back. “Or?”
“Or.” His tongue pokes into the side of his cheek. Thinking face. One of the few people who doesn’t have a dumb thinking face. This one actually looks like he’s thinking. “You let me take you somewhere.”
“Where?”
“Surprise,” he says softly, “you’ll like it. Promise.”
And you figure you can always fly into the sun tomorrow. The giant ass star isn’t going anywhere.
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He’s had a hand over your eyes for a couple minutes now, guiding you inside…somewhere. Every few seconds he makes a shushing sound, to who you assume are bystanders wondering why the rude hero who trended number one on Twitter this morning (#FrightingaleBreakdown) is wandering around.
“Are you taking me to a strip club?” you ask suddenly. “I really don’t wanna go to a strip club right now.”
“No, but that’s a good idea. Tell me that one later. Or, tomorrow, or whatever. Whenever you want.”
Yeah. Okay.
A door closes, and that’s when he finally moves his hand. You’d assumed you would have to shield your eyes from some ceiling light. But instead, you’re met by even more darkness.
Well. Not total darkness.
There’s a hint of white. A sliver of silver. And it’s everywhere.
You honesttoGod gasp, staggering back as you witness the night sky. The stars twinkle like shiny teeth (that sparkle, adding beauty to my faaaace, my shiny teeth that glisten, just like a christmas tree, you know they’d walk a mile, just to see me smile (woo!) my shiny teeth and me). Your hands tremble as they close over your mouth, and you don’t realize that you’re tearing up until Hawks’ fingers are under your eyes again, catching the tears before they can fall.
“I know a planetarium isn’t the same as the actual night.” He glows like this, how does one do that? What’s his skincare routine? “But…it’s better than nothing, and I’ll bring you here whenever you want. You say the word to me and we’re here. Or anywhere else. If you can’t get out of the loop, then you should take advantage of it. Have fun. Do things you’ve never had time to do before. I’ll help you.”
For all this trouble, you should stare up at the faux sky, not at him.
“And um, to speed up the process.” His cheeks dust pink, and he whispers, “Keigo.”
That’s when you find your voice. “What?”
“Keigo. My name. I’ve never told anyone, so, you know. I’ll believe you faster.” His face is red now, all the way up to the tips of his prickly ears. 
“Kei-go.” You test it out on your tongue, eyes on him. “Well, what if I’m just messing with you and I’m not actually reliving today?”
He exhales in a way that tells you the thought didn’t even cross his mind. As if you’re sooo goodhearted you would never do such a thing. But you absolutely would.
“It’d be worth it.” Hawks—Keigo—shrugs. “To hear you say my name.”
Oh.
You step forward, you think, to kiss him, but before you get the chance the ground shakes, and then crumbles directly under your feet. You don’t even hear his cry of surprise. Is this an earthquake? No, quicksand? But that makes no sense—except the curse doesn’t make any sense at all, so yeah. Sure. You’ll go out like that.
You wake up with the taste of sand and good sense never to try and kiss your partner again. 
—————————————————
“You’re early!” Hawks greets you at patrol.
“Yeah, well.” You sigh, blowing into the cup of hot tea in your hand. “We don’t all take our time like you, Keigo.”
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lexinympho · 2 years
Text
[smut, gn!reader, mirror sex, MDNI]
Just imagining Touya having you sat in front of him, your back to his chest, as he's fingering you open.
He made sure to angle your full body mirror in front of you before starting so he could still see the glorious sight of you writhing around, while feeling your hands frantically grab at him when he hits a spot he normally couldn't when you're lying down. Better yet (or worse for your sanity), he makes sure you're watching yourself in the mirror, and he always stops sadistically when you dare to look away or hide your face. And when you attempt to pull your hips away due to overstimulation, he makes eye contact with you in the mirror and simply pulls you back to him by the waist to say, "If you keep squirming like that, you won't be getting my dick by the end. Just sit still, doll~"
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©lexinympho 2022, please do not edit or repost my works anywhere on this platform or another
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bakubabes-tatakae · 2 years
Note
Hello! Can I get some Dabi smut? Dabi is on a meeting and his s/o keeps sending him suggestive pics and then he goes to her and punishes her 😏 Thanks a lot babe. I love your writing so much 😘
Oh, how I love writing for Dabi. I hope this is everything that you're looking for nonny.
Pictures || {NSFW} Dabi x fem!Reader
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Warnings: smut, fingering, 18+ content, dirty talk, offensive language (swearing), edging, teasing, begging, taunting, x fem!Reader, lingerie, shit head Dabi, minors dni
Word Count: 1.5k
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The second buzz of his phone while he sat with Tomura and the others made him groan softly. It was barely audible to the rest of the people around him as he pulled the device from his pocket. Your name filled the screen, something he had been half-expecting. Usually, if he got messages while he was in a meeting or at the hideout it was always you.
Dabi brought his attention back to the task at hand and placed his phone face down on the table, listening to what his leader had to say. Another vibration made him drop his head back, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he heard Tomura's voice speak his name. "Do you have some kind of emergency you need to deal with Dabi? Or can we continue what we were doing?"
Dabi pulled his head back up straight and grabbed the phone, locking eyes with Tomura as he stood from his chair. "I'll be back in five minutes tops. Don't wait for me. I can catch what I miss when we're done here."
His boots stomped against the hardwood of the hideout as he left the room, pushing the door open a little too hard as it bounced against the wall. He was angry, he knew exactly what you had sent him when he saw that the messages only said "attachment" on them. Dabi sat on the couch in the living area of the building and opened his texts, his cock twitching in his pants as he saw the pictures before him.
It was instantaneous for him, his finger pressing call before he could stop himself from doing so, his free hand palming his cock through his jeans. The phone pressed to his ear as he looked around, making sure that no one else had come out of the conference room with him. Your angelic tone rang through the receiver, as lustful and smooth as you could make it be. "Well good evening, my love."
A growl sounded in his chest, one that you could hear flawlessly through the phone. "Don't give me that bullshit, dollface." He gripped onto the arm of the couch and huffed out an amused laugh. "I think that you need to watch yourself. I have ten minutes left of this meeting at the most and when I get home... Oh, you're in for some trouble sweetheart."
You couldn't help the small pangs of fear that shot through you, knowing that when Dabi said that you were in trouble it wasn't some kind of joke. It was never something that he played around with. It meant that you were about to be punished for teasing him, just as you always did when you found the nerve to do such a thing. But today... today had been different. You had been much more brave than usual. "I'll believe it when I see it."
A click on his end of the phone sent him reeling, his eye bulging out of his head with anger. Had you just hung up on him? No one hung up on him without some kind of response. He wouldn't go easy on you when he walked through those doors.
You sprawled out on your bed as you waited for him, knowing that the hideout wasn't all that far from the apartment that you shared. Dabi would be angrier than you had seen him in a while when he walked through the doors and you had to be prepared for anything.
The sound of a car pulling into the driveway about fifteen minutes after you had hung up on him sent a shiver down your spine. You hadn't realized exactly how upset he was really about to be. A whole new side of Dabi that you weren’t used to seeing. He was usually pretty aggressive in bed, but the level you were about to see was something you had never witnessed before. 
The front door slammed against the wall as he entered the apartment, hitting hard enough to bounce back at him. His voice was menacing as he called up to you, but there was a hint of happiness behind it. Dabi was enjoying this, knowing that you were probably sitting upstairs on the bed, shaking in fear and anticipation. “Now now, kitten. You’re hiding from me aren’t you? You know just how much trouble you’re in.”
The sound of his boots against the stairs made you sit up a little, the once brave posture that you held now completely gone. This had been a bad idea. A good idea at the time, but now… now you were thinking otherwise. You swallowed hard and looked around, trying to keep yourself calm, the boots coming closer and closer to the door. 
The light from the hallway shone in the bedroom as Dabi made his way in, the smug grin painting his face making your whole body quake. His body moved toward you, his hand reaching out for you. His grip on your wrist was tight, a quick tug pulling you to the edge of the bed. “What did you think you were doing when you were sending me all of those pictures? Did you think that you were gonna get away with it?”
You shook your head quickly, trying hard to stop yourself from crying out. The way he looked at you, the way he taunted you, it was intoxicating. “N-No. I didn’t think I would. I just… I didn’t think you’d be this angry.”
A menacing chuckle left his lips as he leaned over you on the bed, the lingerie set that dawned your body making him run his tongue across his lips. “Oh dollface, I promise you that I’m not angry. I just can’t wait to see what you look like when you’re begging me for mercy.”
Dabi didn’t waste a second, his hand that had gripped your wrist now moving to your neck as he pushed you against the bed. You let out a small squeak as his body weight pressed to yours, the mattress moving underneath you. “D-Dabi, please.”
Another snicker filled your ears as he pushed his knee between your legs, pushing them apart so his fingers could rub against the thin fabric of your panties. “That’s right, baby. Go ahead. Keep begging for me.”
Dabi’s fingers found your clit, vigorously rubbing against it as your back arched for him. You needed more, needed to hear the way he always praised you when you whined so pretty for him. “M-more, please. I c-can’t Dabi.”
Dabi taunted you, repeating your words as he looked down at you with dark eyes. “C-Can’t what? Can’t take it? Can’t handle it? Oh, what a poor little baby you are. Tell me what you want, you won’t get anything until you do.”
You could barely say a few coherent words let alone make a sentence for him. You mustered every bit of focus that you could as his finger teased your entrance, the look of pleasure on his face at your expense making butterflies flutter in your chest. “Wanna feel you inside me. More. I need more. Need to cum.”
A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, watching you with lust and desire. “Now that’s more like it, but your punishment today is gonna be hard. All you’re gonna get from me is my fingers, darling.” He tilted his head to the side as he finally plunged his fingers into your core, pistoning them in and out of you at a relentless pace. “You want more than that you have to work for it. You want a little taste of my cock you’re gonna have to do something big for it.”
The coil in your abdomen tightened fast, the way his fingers hit every spot perfectly as his digits curled sending you reeling. You could feel it coming, the warmth in your abdomen growing more and more as he placed a hand on your stomach. “I can feel you closing around my fingers baby. I know you wanna cum, but what if I don’t let you? What if I take that all away?”
As your walls began to close he pulled his fingers away, a shit eating grin painting his face as he looked back at you. His name spilled from your mouth as you felt the euphoria that had been just flooding you disappear, a shockwave of emotions hitting you like a truck. “D-Dabi, fuck.”
Your hips moved against his hand as you desperately tried to get him to touch you again. You wanted all of him, your desire for him growing as you writhed underneath him. You should never have sent him those pictures, regret flooding you as realization set in. He wasn’t planning on letting this go quickly. He was gonna drag this out as long as he could. “Pretty baby, she just wants that release, huh? But we’re just getting started and I can’t wait to see that face just a few more times.”
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Taglist: @monic00l @strangeinternetwasteland @rowley-with-ackerman @kyu-pine @kaissimpparks @nikiniki743 @saudade-mayari @mykuronekome @inu1gf @taliyahvermillion @maat-the-prescriptive @rokudaddie @vs-redemption @adorzora @sp1tw1tch @strawberrydynamight @whatshernameis @shortwinchester @stygianoir @sunflowersenshi
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©️2022 bakubabes-tatakae, please do not repost/modify without my permission, please do not use my work as ASMR without my permission
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kittyscafe · 1 year
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Tropical beauty
Fandom: Boku no Hero
Characters: Kaminari Denki, Kirishima Eijiro & Shinso Hitoshi
Sumary: How would they react when he sees their S/O in swimsuit for the first time? - by Boku-no-Haikyuu (Deactivated)
Genre: Romantic, Fluffy, comfort,
Triggers: None (or maybe the boys being cute and adorable?)
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Kaminari
We all know he's a pervert;
But this takes it to another level;
I hope you have the emergency number on speed dial;
Why? Because your Pikachu boy is having a nosebleed;
But when he recovers…
Oh boy! He will flirt more than usual;
Kaminari can't stop saying how beautiful (handsome) and sexy you are in that swimm suit;
You're going to take a lot of selfies together;
Pikachu boy sulks when others flirt with you;
When he pouts is just so cute, just a kiss and he smiles before enjoying this beautiful moment with you again.
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Kirishima
That shunshine boy froze for a few seconds;
Kirishima recovers quickly and compliments you on how beautiful (beautiful) you look;
He gives a hug and is drowned in kisses for the face and lips;
He is a loving gentleman;
He always treats you with affection and showers you with compliments;
If someone is bothering you he will protect you;
It's not manly to harass someone who has clearly said no to advances on them;
After he saves you from the stalker, Kirishima will be a prankster to cheer you up.
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Shinso
ShinsoHitoshi.exe has stopped working;
He is stunned by the sight before him;
He thinks he has died and is before a divine being;
After recovering from the initial shock he will smile before teasing you;
“Love, you look so beautiful… Can a mortal like me have the honor of keeping you company?”
He is chill most of the time;
That is unless someone bothers you or harasses you;
Shinso hates using his Quirk like that because of the way he was treated in the past;
But if there's some idiot pushing too hard, he won't hesitate if it means protecting you;
After this episode, he makes sure you're okay and comforts you in anyway;
You can bask in his comfort and a delicious ice cream to help you calm down;
This boy knows how to be soft and loving when you need it.
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Sharing and liking my content are appreciated, but I expressly prohibit plagiarism and claiming my content as your own
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dabis-loverboy · 1 year
Text
NSFW Masterlist
Dabi/Touya Todoroki
Arrest Me, Doll - drabble, reader insert, genderneutral
Suck, Doll - drabble, reader insert, male
Cry For Daddy, Doll - drabble, reader insert, genderneutral
Eijiro Kirishima
The Things We Shouldn't Do - drabble, reader insert, female
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harukaprism · 2 years
Text
Pairing: Toshinori Yagi [All Might] x F!Reader
Warnings: None, straight fluff
Word Count: 879
Dawn's notes: Happy birthday All Might. Yes, I love this old man.
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Your husband has been working himself to the bone with his hellish schedule of being a full-time teacher and dealing with being a retired hero. So you decided to make this birthday a special one for him!
You woke up early that day and slipped out of bed and made your way to the kitchen before your silly husband could drag his butt out of bed. You quickly pulled up the recipe for his favorite from America, courtesy of David Shield of course. You quickly went to work making his breakfast and coffee just the way he liked it. 
Slowly you heard the dragging of his big feet down the hallway. “Dear where were you?” Suddenly those skinny arms wrapped around your waist as you were finishing putting the fruit on his plate. 
“Happy birthday Toshi.” You hummed as you leaned into his chest behind you. You watched his crazy blonde hair fall past your face as he stared at the masterpiece that you had made. “I know it’s nothing like you would eat in America, but David said this was your go to thing to eat while in college.”
His arms tightened around your waist as his face was buried into your neck. “Thank you, my love.” You quickly ushered him to sit down and served him breakfast. Those sunken blue orbs light up the second he bit into it. “This is amazing! It brings back so many memories, there was this one-time David and I got drunk after a party and we strolled into a local diner, I completely forgot my English, so he ordered it for me in a drunken haze. We ended up passing out in the booth but the people who ran the shop were kind enough to let us stay.” 
You leaned on your open palm staring at the man you loved with a warm smile, basking in the sunlight that filtered into your home, who cared if he couldn’t turn into All Might anymore. He was still your Toshi. 
He finally looked at your face and the apples of his cheeks matched the apples sitting on the table. “What do I have whipped cream on my face?” 
Shaking your head, you got up and refilled his coffee. “No, my love, I’m just admiring the man I love.” The rest of your morning was spent with him indulging on the food you had made and endless cups of coffee. “You should get going Toshi, work is calling.” Placing a kiss on his lips you sent him on his way; now the rest of your plan could commence. 
After a quick shower and doing your makeup, you quickly called David.  “Hey have you landed yet?” 
“Yes! I am getting my bags now, are you sure it’s alright to surprise him like this?” His voice sounded happy but with a tinge of worry. 
“When was the last time the two of you have occupied the same room? This party has to be perfect, everyone is going to be here. I want him to actually enjoy a birthday party that isn’t just the two of us.” You let out a sigh as you fixed your lipstick. 
“Isn’t there a surprise at his desk waiting for him too?” You heard him chuckle. 
“Yes, and I am waiting for the text and video from Hizashi. Anyway I have to go see you soon!” With that you hung up and started hanging up decorations and getting snacks ready. You had invited all of his hero friends, and some of class A1. They loved their teacher so much and you couldn’t exclude them. 
Slowly everyone started to trickle into your lively home, David, Gran Torino, the other teachers and a few students. Everyone mingled around and you waited by the door for your husband. Slowly the door opened and there stood your tall blonde sunflower. His eyes widened as he looked over the sea of people looking happy to be there. “What is this?..” 
After everything was set up your phone pinged with a incoming video from the one and only Present Mic, showing your darling husband being covered in confetti with balloons falling down from the ceiling; you had persuaded (bribed) some of the students to set it up for you since you.
You could hear the hoots and hollers from the students as everything unfolded, Aizawa even smiled a bit as he watched. WIth that finally taken care of you got in your car and drove to your local bakery and picked up the big birthday cake that you had ordered, and with that you finished getting everything ready back at home. 
You threw your arms around his neck hugging him close. “Happy birthday darling.” After the two of you hugged you watched as he took his time to speak to everyone, thanking them for their gifts and time. Everyone was happy. 
Soon enough the kids went home and it was just the adults, you found yourself in the arms of your husband, sleeves rolled up as the two of you swayed to the music playing. “Did you have a good birthday?”
“All thanks to you.” Toshinori lifted your chin with two fingers and placed a gentle kiss on your lips. “Thank you, I love you.”
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angelltheninth · 7 months
Text
Having Hawks as Your Flirty Rival
Pairing: Keigo "Hawks" Takami x Fem!Reader
Tags: fluff, lots of flirting, rivals to lovers, teasing, missions, bragging, showing off, kissing
A/N: I will never let anyone forget how much I love this man.
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Rival!Hawks who always just so happens to be on the same mission as you. He's the second best hero, you really think he won't be where the action is? Lately it seems like the action, the most interesting kind is where you happen to be. So if you don't mind he'll just tag along and see what he can do. You can complain all you like but he's not leaving until the job is done.
Rival!Hawks floats next to you while you walk around the city on patrol. The moment you see a crime the two of you race to it, egging each other on. He always has something to say about your fighting, not always bad but in general he loves keeping you on your toes.
Rival!Hawks offers to train with you when he's free. Of course he wants to, he can't have his rival getting sloppy. Geez, not everything he does is to spite you, he's actually a pretty good guy. Good but annoying to you in particular. When you do warm ups he always sticks a bit close to you so you can see his shirt ride up his abs. Getting all hot and bothered already? Maybe you need a cold shower before training starts.
Rival!Hawks likes to make bets on who will come out on top, in missions of course, what were you thinking? The loser has to do what the other wants, it's usually thing like paying for food or drinks or saying something embarrassing. This time he asked you to kiss him. He didn't expect you to do it, or that he'd like it so much. Or that bite. Ouch.
Rival!Hawks doesn't brag often but he brags a lot to you specifically. It gets a reaction out of you, trying to swat away at him only for him to catch your wrists and pull you close. Ever since that first kiss he's been thinking about you. Another one might get you out of his head, but then again do either of you want that? He's noticed you looking his way more then a few times. You'll have to wait until your next mission to see.
Rival!Hawks happens to be going the same route as you are with some extra food. He can share if you want, but you have to ask nicely. Or give him a kiss. He's not handing these out for free, you should be happy you get a kiss from him. Not without him winning the bet? Fine, he'll show you, just you wait and see.
Rival!Hawks shows off in front of you a lot. He says he does it for the cameras but he's never cared for those much so the only logical conclusion is that he's showing off for you. This is plain as day to see because he always makes sure he's in your field of vision when pulling off something badass. Keep your eyes on him at all times, your heart will surely skip a beat.
Rival!Hawks who can't believe that he lost his bet with you. Oh well, next time he will surely... you want that kiss? Are you sure? He wasn't exactly joking before but he didn't think you'd go for it. Okay, he's not saying no, he would never say no to a hot woman like yourself. But not in front of the cameras. He takes you high, high up among the clouds and kisses you there, away from any prying eyes.
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4izawas · 1 year
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— 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 ; 𝐤. 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐦𝐢.
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𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: her eyes are soft when she replies, “because you’re a good person,” and her words are all it takes for his stiff body to collapse into her hold as he begins crying earnestly into her shoulder.
𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦: my hero academia | 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: keigo takami/f!reader | 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: nsfw ; minors dni | 𝐰/𝐜: 1.79k.
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: sorta nestfic, rut cycles/in heat, set on valentine’s day/ valentine’s day mentions, hurt/comfort, creampies, facefucking mentions, discussions of hawks’ traumas, mating habits, lovemaking, missionary.
𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞’𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 @cherrykamado. 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 @suyacho‘𝐬 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞’𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞.
— 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐞 !!
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a shiver ran across hawks’ skin as he lay in bed; after such an eventful fight with a villain beforehand, it was a real wonder that he’d managed to get so much time off, rut symptoms aside. regardless, once he’d tossed them at the policeman waiting, he’d taken off, calling the hpsc as he did to tell them his rut was imminent ( as in a couple hours away at best ) so they could black out his schedule, and they’d done so. keigo had returned to his penthouse and had taken up his right to bask in the sanctity that lay between his lover’s legs, his animalistic urge to breed taking over only forty-five minutes after he arrived home. he’d found her already ready, as she always was, and then the needs had taken over. 
his memory was always fuzzy after they did, and he always depended on y/n to remember everything to retell it to him. she was the only person he had ever allowed to spend his ruts with him, so that alone was enough for him to trust her completely when it came to her informing him of what happened whenever he went under. 
he glances at the screen of his phone as it lights up with one of a million notifications, his eyes catching the date as well as the mention of the league of villains having been spotted in the kanto region, but he turns away. y/n had made him promise no work when he went through his cycles, he’d even used to lock his phone away in a little automated lock box to make sure he kept to it — he couldn’t be weak now, she was here, in his bed, wrapped in his bedding and his clothes and his scent. 
“keigo?” comes his lover’s voice from behind him, and he takes a deep breath before completely relaxing into the arms that snaked their way around his body. that’s right, he wasn’t hawks here, because he didn’t have to be — he was just keigo.  y/n’s keigo. 
with a smile on his face, he carefully rolls over in her arms, his eyes shining when they meet hers. she’s still tired, the fog of sleep clinging to her eyes, but still she worries for him despite not even being completely aware of her surroundings. her sense of urgency when it came to him always made him feel mushy inside; no one had ever really bothered with him in that way before. 
“hey there, sweetheart,” he says softly through a half-assed smile. she squints at him slightly, reading his face with an ease that had made him deeply uncomfortable at the beginning of their relationship that now only served to strengthen it; hawks knew now that her knowing how he was feeling without him saying it played well into both of their strengths and weaknesses at this point. 
“what’s wrong?” she asks quietly, her scratchy-sounding voice echoing the sore throat that was the result of the strain that had been put on it after the brutal facefucking she’d received from him only a few hours before when his rut had been at its peak; the merciless breeding he’d put her cunt through had had her screaming, which was probably also a contributing factor, and while his inner beast preened at the knowledge that her hole was well-bred and still leaking his cum, keigo couldn’t hold back the stabbing guilt that coursed through him. his gaze darkens as he looks down at the bruises littering her throat where he’d gripped it as he’d fucked his fourth load in her, and the stinging sensation of oncoming tears overcomes him. 
she was in pain, and it was his fault — his fault for not holding back his urges, for using her like a tool when she was nothing close. it didn’t matter that she’d genuinely  asked for it, had begged for him to let her help him through his rut cycle as always, she always ended up worse for wear, and keigo always swore it would be the last time… but he always fell back in the cycle for taking out his more animalistic urges on her, and she always paid the price. 
just like they had always told him, he was bad. only bad people hurt the ones they loved. was he even worse than his parents? they hadn’t loved him, so he had to be. he was. 
the realization hurt. 
“why do you love me?” hawks whispers, tears shimmering in his eyes. he just can’t comprehend why she ever would. he expects  a quip of some kind, possibly a little rude remark to tease him, or even her maybe miraculously ignoring it — she did so hate it when he asked questions like this, but hawks knew that she would never ignore such a handful of words just as surely as he couldn’t help saying them. it didn’t matter if she told him how deeply she cared for him once or a million times, he’d always be surprised when she uttered those three words to him. 
her eyes are soft when she replies, “because you’re a good person,” and her words are all it takes for his stiff body to collapse into her hold as he begins crying earnestly into her shoulder. he can feel her wrap her arms around him, her voice soft as she shushes him gently without the intention of actually quieting him.
he doesn’t deserve this, doesn’t deserve her, hawks knows that. it doesn’t matter that he can be keigo to her, or that she most definitely is the only takami to actually love him, no. she deserves better than him, the son of two penniless scumbags who used their useless, waste-of-space child as a bargaining chip for their own freedom… but she chooses him. it doesn’t matter if he rages, because she soothes him. when he falls apart, she puts him back together again. when he finds himself missing something he doesn’t quite understand, she offers herself up as the perfect piece to fit the jigsaw puzzle of his life. 
it takes some time before he’s calm again, but eventually he is, if a little shaky. “h-happy valentine’s day,” he whispers into her bruised throat, speaking of the date he’d seen when his phone had lit up, and she chuckles lowly while running her fingers through his hair and nuzzling her nose against his temple. 
“happy valentine’s day, keigo,” she murmurs into his hair, and he sniffles as a new onslaught of tears threatens to overtake him. he didn’t want to cry again, really he didn’t…
“i love you,” he whimpers, unspeakably vulnerable, and he feels her hum lightly against him.. 
“i know,” is her only response, and he crumbles again, clinging to her like a lost man to religion — because that’s what she is, really. keigo spends his days, his life, worshiping her as she more than deserves — her, the deity he’d follow blindfolded with all senses stolen from him. 
her, the only one who had ever stayed. 
“make love to me, please,” she asks quietly, interrupting his thoughts. he protests at first, sure that she was too achy for something so trying, but she locks eyes with him and insists, her wants and desires clear. and fuck, even if keigo couldn’t be the man she deserved, the least he could do was make her happy as best he was able. if lovemaking was what she ( and, truthfully, he too ) wanted, then lovemaking she’d get. 
he carefully eases his cock, currently hard from the need that was already creeping up on him again, into her soft cunt, and she sighs softly as he fills her out perfectly. keigo squeezes his eyes shut, taking deep breaths and fighting off the whine at the back of his throat at how good she felt around him before slowly beginning to move, his hips pulling back only to slowly meet hers again. soft sighs and moans of pleasure left her lips, pairing beautifully with his own light grunts and groans as the muscle beneath his right eyebrow began to twitch; it always did this when he was close, and he always came so much easier during his cycles, but he had to hold out for her — he wanted her to cum first, wanted to watch her fall apart in his arms, so he holds himself back. 
“you’re so, so good, keigo,” she murmurs breathily, a soft whine to her words as pleasure courses through her body. “so good, so sweet.”
“m-mine!” he whimpers into her flesh, softly mouthing at the line of bruised bites that ran across her collarbone, and she sighs happily with a simple smile on her face. 
“all yours, my dove,” she whispers, her head tilting back as she gives up any further attempts to speak. keigo is all moans and whimpers anyway, and her point has been made regardless of whether or not she spoke any more. 
before long y/n finally cums around him, long past the point of overstimulation and easily aroused, and keigo follows suit. the thick cord that had drawn tighter and tighter in his stomach at every gentle thrust of his hips against hers had snapped just as the knot in y/n’s own tummy had been pulled taut so suddenly moments before. keigo fills her yet again with a long, drawn out cry as she spasms around him, his cum seeping from her insides around his cock with each bout of her tightening up, and his heart races against hers through both of their ribcages. 
he presses their foreheads together as they both come down from their respective highs, their noses slotted perfectly as their chests heave in tandem. his eyes are open, hazing into her own as she looks up at him with stars in her eyes, a smile in them just as bright as the sun though her soft lips are slack and at ease as she studies him. she breaks his gaze as she dips her head forward to kiss him, her own soft ones clashing ever so slowly with the wind-chapped skin of his own. they stay like this for a long moment, simply basking in one another’s existence as they share their kiss, before y/n slowly pulls back ever so slightly — not even half an inch is between them, and their lips still touch, but regardless it is enough.  
“i’ll love you forever, kei’,”she whispers into his lips, and a new, single tear falls from his cheek to hers before dripping down, soaking slowly into her skin as keigo closes his eyes. 
“and i you,” he whispers, before kissing her again and whispering a soft, “forever,” into her mouth. 
yes, forever. that sounded perfect. 
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𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡�� © { 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 } 𝐛𝐲 𝟒𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐒. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭.
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yanderenightmare · 14 days
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TW: nsfw
fem reader
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Just thinking of those boyfriends who can’t stop furiously blushing and excusing themselves when the post-nut-clarity hits after they’ve made a downright fool of themselves in bed. They’re all like, “Don’t give me that look, that wasn’t—y’know? I didn’t mean—I don’t know where that came from.” After they’ve begged and whined to creampie you while rambling things like “M’gonna make you my babymamma, gonna knock yah up—give you triplets—gonna babytrap yah—yuh—yeah—gonna make you mine—mh—all mine—my pretty little housewife forever!”
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BNHA – Bakugou, Deku, Kirishima, Hawks, Natsuo, Mirio
JJK – Gojo, Geto, Naoya, Yuuta, Choso
HQ – Kuro, Bokuto, Iwaizumi, Sakusa, Miya twins
AOT – Eren, Zeke
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ccerealbowl · 8 months
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Fellas, is it gay to cuddle your best bro throughout the night?
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astridthevalkyrie · 10 months
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baby we’re barely (holding on) | hawks x reader
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A chance encounter leaves you reminiscing about the past and pondering the future. Who would have thought the number two hero has thought about you just as much as you've thought about him?
warnings: references to smut/sex but no actual smut in the story
a/n: i caught up with the mha manga today so my binge is finally over..........i cannot believe hawks is who i have decided to spit out 2k words of pure artsy fluff about. i did not see this coming i thought it would be aizawa i wanted it to be aizawa. tenko-centered fic possibly coming soon??
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"Yo, Hawks!"
His wings react before his head does, and if the way a few of his feathers fluff isn't a sign that he's pleased to see you the unreadable grin on his face is. "There's my favorite hero. I thought I'd see you on stage today."
That stings slightly, but not because he said it, you'd half expected it too. Only Hawks must have cracked the case on how to get such acclaim in such a short time. It's part of the reason you sought him out in the first place, a couple years back. Oh, damn, has it been that long? You'd been such a mess back then. Today might just be dedicated to showing the man that you're not a popularity-crazed maniac anymore.
When he hugs you, it's by the waist again, and you realize no time has passed at all. The you that was a seventeen year old meeting an eighteen year old Hawks had butterflies from this cliche move of his and twenty-one year old you is no better. You're just a tad too into this cocky persona; and it is a persona, no doubt about it. Within that feeling is a scolding lesson to accept people for who they are, but that's difficult when Hawks doesn't make that common knowledge. The only reason you know it's fake is because of that one night, that night, the night he had whined desperately in your ear, "Keigo. Say my name when you come for me, please."
And that remained the only time you'd ever said it. Another reason why Hawks' hands on your lower back, a touch that he would never let linger so much with any other pro, briefly sets your common sense ablaze.
"Would you get a drink with me?" His hair is not as perfectly in place as it seems on screen, you note, but the slight crookedness makes him all the more endearing when he cocks his head. "For old times' sake?"
"Day drinking? You don't seem like the type, birdbrain." Ah, good, nicknames to fall into an easy rapport.
"I'm just getting apple cider." Hawks' eyes twinkle—jeez, who actually stood in the mirror perfecting something like that? You're more sympathetic to your younger self now more than ever. "Agreed to meet with the flame hero later, gotta keep my senses about me. You're friends with Mirko, yeah? The two of you should swing by too."
A stray finger brushes over your elbow, the course pad gently pressing into your skin, right next to your pocket, where the cable for your earphones is sticking out. Hawks hums at the sight, tapping his own headphones wordlessly, a small smirk on his face.
There's more words when you read between the lyrics, a newly burgeoning eighteen year old hero had said to you, dontcha think?
How odd. Had it been Hawks speaking then, or Keigo? Who is speaking now?
"We can pay you a visit, yeah." One of his arms is still wrapped around your waist, and more people are starting to flood into the backstage area to offer their congratulations, so you tap his headphones too, in the same spot, and raise a brow. "But that drink?"
He steps back, an immediate lack of warmth greeting you. He's surprisingly heated for being so cool and, well, avian. It would be ironic if he wasn't, though, and the heat was only coming from how well your body remembered how his felt pressed against you. You should feel like a pervert for these thoughts, but Hawks is the one who's still in your personal space.
And there he remains. Even when you exit the hall, even as you're away from the heroes and walking amongst civilians, he stays glued to your side, stuck like a protective boyfriend. It's a good time to remember that your feelings for him had never been about sex, appealing though it was. It was because, back then, as a new hero yourself, Hawks draping himself over you, whistling against your cheek as he praised you from behind your shoulder, at the time, it had felt like...like...
The sweetest form of love. Something you knew was fleeting, but real.
You let it happen. and it was easy. Maybe because he made it painfully obvious that he wanted you just as much as you wanted him, because he'd looked at you as though you were a dream he could never hope to have. At the end, Hawks hadn't pulled away, had he? It'd been you.
"Sorry," you blurt, at the same time he asks, "So how much did you really think you were gonna get in the top ten today?"
The two of you blink at each other. "Sorry rescinded," you mutter sourly.
Hawks chortles, knuckles bumping into yours. "Well, I won't bother saying apology accepted then, but you get the sentiment. I, ah, don't think you have anything to say sorry for, though."
Slipping your hand into your pocket, you close your fingers over your phone. "You sent me eight texts, and I didn't respond to any of them."
You've read through those eight texts so many times that you could recite them in your sleep. Best be with your eyes closed too, or else the onlookers would recognize the way your head bowed in guilt. It started with hey, we should talk and u free tonight? Then, after a couple hours, it was i didnt mean to make things weird.
At around 4 PM. i know ur areas change 2nite
Two hours exactly after. damn not even a *tonight huh
okay i respect it
i'll see you when i see you, chickadee :)
And, finally, a year later.
i miss you so fucking much i cant stand it
Despite the longing, despite how you'd very nearly teared up the first time you'd read that last message (and then following hundred times you reread it obsessively), you didn't respond. You didn't let your paths cross again. The only reason you even sought him out after today's ceremony was because you'd found that damned feather bracelet yesterday and your hopeless naivety had won out over your supposed maturity.
If anything, your explanation only makes him more amused. "You counted? That's adorable, chickadee."
He opens the door for you and your eyes meet his. Underneath that boyish charm is a kindness, a teasing look reassuring you that he really doesn't hold anything against you. You're not sure if that means it didn't actually hurt him all that much or that he's had enough years to recover from the hurt. It is not naivety, but cruelty, that makes you hope that it's not the former.
To make you feel better and worse, Hawks quirks a brow like he's accepting a challenge. "Nothing to apologize for. Don't believe me?" In a second, he's bringing your hand up to his lips, bowing his head to kiss your knuckles and spread a furious rush through your veins.
It's not the former. Your heart beats painfully. It's not the former. It might not even be the latter. Perhaps Hawks and you were one and the same, never getting over it and just continuing to smile brightly every morning regardless. Maybe even though you're only twenty-one, this damned feeling of an old, overgrown soul that you have is mirrored in him.
An overgrown soul with all the kicking feet and high-pitched giggles of a teenager.
"Alright, birdbrain," you say, and maybe you've learned a thing or two about making your eyes twinkle from him too, "thank you. To answer your question, I wasn't super confident, it was a wish more than anything else."
As you walk into the cafe he's chosen, you wave at a little girl whose mouth had fallen open as soon as she caught sight of you. "You'll make it next year," he observes casually, the statement sounding like a promise coming from him.
It doesn't matter as much as it used to, and you tell him as much. That little girl's expression is more than enough of a reward, hell, just him buying you a drink is enough of a reward ("who says I'm paying?" Hawks remarks, sliding over a card across the counter as soon as you've put in your order). This casual exchange means more to you than a lot of things, actually. It gives you something new to replay in your head over and over again, instead of...
Sheets clutched in your fists, his heavy breath on your neck, switching between using his tongue and teeth, in between apologies that sound like sorry, i'm sorry, i've never done this before and a muffled groan when you tell him that you, too, are also a virgin. The absolute disarray in his expression, as though he couldn't decide whether he should remove your clothes or just kiss you, but he kept returning to your lips regardless. You remember each kiss you'd shared with him that night. There'd been a lot of tongue too, as expected of two horny, inexperienced teenagers who were simply intoxicated on the feeling of having their feelings reciprocated.
But that night wasn't all you remembered. You also recall vividly the evening he'd flown you up to the top of a building, and let you rest your arm on his shoulder as both of you sipped on apple cider, with him pretending like the drink was scorching his tongue and you pretending that you were drunk. Stay with me, Hawks! you'd dramatically cried. He'd winked, and you think he was actually drunk that day because he'd leaned in, close enough for you to feel his breath on your lips, and whispered, I'm not going anywhere, chickadee.
The most surprising thing was that you hadn't kissed him right then and there, as you two celebrated your youth.
"So what's next for you? Aiming for the number one spot?"
"Eventually, of course." A set of perfect teeth flash a confident smile at you. With a slight clink, he sips his cider, humming thoughtfully. "But first, I, ah, might actually be AWOL for a bit."
"Oh yeah?" You sip your drink as well. "A special mission or something?"
"Or something. Let's just say I gotta keep my head low to avoid giving off a cocky self image."
"Can't imagine what could possibly give people that impression," you drawl sarcastically. He shrugs innocently.
"That's actually why I thought it'd be best to catch a drink with you now. I don't think I'll be able to meet up or even text in the next few months. But don't worry," and he winks at you even as a sudden unease grows in your stomach, "if you get to eight texts, I'll definitely respond then."
Unsurprisingly, you're not a fan of how it sounds like he's saying goodbye. You just allowed yourself to re-enter his life and you wanted to make time to properly apologize to him, to make up for lost time. You don't think you necessarily deserve a second chance, or another brief whirlwind romance, but you still want to buy him a drink to return the favor.
"Hawks," you begin, leaning forward, "what is the commission making you—"
A hand cups the back of your neck, but he doesn't tug you forward. Instead he meets you at your seat, and presses his lips to yours.
This feels like a dream. You must have dreamt this at least once in your several dreams about him.
"Fuck," he breathes, as your lips mold to fit his, sounding like he's never had such an absolute honor. "You're perfect, chickadee. I'll miss you."
You surge forward too, not as inexperienced now, and your hand cups his chin, figuring you'll apologize to your PR team later if someone gets a picture of this. To the outside world, it will look like a hero who fell for her coworker's charm, but to you it looks like something too good to be true.
Faintly, you feel a hushed message amongst the sensation. A fight is coming. I can't talk. We'll need your help.
The first thing you think is strategic. Questions burn in your brain, about who and where and when. That is your twenty-one year old self, and in her maturity she takes precedence. A hero you are first, a hero you will remain. The second thing, however, is a wide-eyed question that your seventeen year old self asks. Did he only kiss you to give you a message?
Thankfully, that fear is assuaged the second he breaks away, continuing to look at you like you're his salvation. Even if Hawks is that good of an actor, you'll let yourself get played, and if things go south, you'll accept it as a just retribution for abandoning him when he needed you. What you won't do is make that mistake again. You both are barely holding on, just like this whole society, and maybe you're holding onto a long gone memory of an eighteen year old who taught you what love was. But you'll continue to hold on, and if the wait kills you, you'll just send eight rapid texts in succession, and he'll come back to you.
A feathered bracelet presses into Hawks' hand. "I want that back the next time we hang out, birdbrain. Don't forget."
Keigo’s eyes twinkle again. "I'll keep it with me always."
Then he kisses you again, and this time no message is relayed.
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"When we burn this world down," Dabi whispers, a glee in his gaze that Hawks avoids looking at, "she'll go down with it too."
The only change in his expression, a contrast to the fire that blazes in his chest, is a simple grin.
"Yeah, man, I know. We all gotta make sacrifices, don't we?"
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