warnings: yandere elements (drugging, kidnapping, all the things that happen in a bad wattpad story lol), violence, killing/death, blood, eventual smut, mention of rutting, possessiveness, slight manga spoilers
a/n: misery by maroon 5 is my current brain rot rn don’t ask. also @innocentnymph plzzz be awake and treat this as a gift
Keigo Tamaki hates it when people wastes his time.
His whole being is built on being fast. His time at the Commission, his hero career, and now his empire— he gained it all quickly without hardly ruffling his feathers. He sinks his talons in and moves on. His morning routine takes him exactly 15 minutes, he can kill with a snap of his fingers, and, hell, he can fucking fly.
So when this slow-talking imbecile, who is clearly sweating through his suit, babbles during his business meeting, Keigo can’t help but be annoyed.
warnings: yandere elements (drugging, kidnapping, all the things that happen in a bad wattpad story lol), violence, killing/death, blood, eventual smut, mention of rutting, possessiveness, slight manga spoilers
a/n: misery by maroon 5 is my current brain rot rn don’t ask. also @innocentnymph plzzz be awake and treat this as a gift
Keigo Tamaki hates it when people wastes his time.
His whole being is built on being fast. His time at the Commission, his hero career, and now his empire— he gained it all quickly without hardly ruffling his feathers. He sinks his talons in and moves on. His morning routine takes him exactly 15 minutes, he can kill with a snap of his fingers, and, hell, he can fucking fly.
So when this slow-talking imbecile, who is clearly sweating through his suit, babbles during his business meeting, Keigo can’t help but be annoyed.
Keigo thrums his neat nails against the table before glancing out the window, sighing under his breath. The weather was chilly— quite cloudy for Musutafu with wcool breeze weaving its way rbetween skyscrapers. Cars slowly push through the busy streets, people bustling on the sidewalks. Though he’s on the highest floor, Keigo can still see the details of each individual person with his hawk-like vision. Mindlessly, with his hand balancing up his head, he follows them as they walk down blocks, open doors for one other, laugh at a joke—
The fuck?
Keigo’s breath catches. He glances up— to make sure that no one has noticed the way his eyes widened like saucers— before he dips his attention back down, back to the girl he didn’t think he’d ever see again. Back to you.
You’re sitting outside a coffee shop, even though it’s seemingly too cold to do so. Your brows are pulled down in concentration, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as you read something on your phone. An index finger is busy looping around the rim of your teacup. You put your phone down before lifting the cup, lips pouting slighly to blow over it before taking a hesitant sip. It must be satisfactory, since you give the tiniest sliver of a smile before drinking more.
He’d forgotten about you. But not anymore.
“Hawks?”
Keigo jerks his head back up. “Yeah, yeah. Just have it done.”
He has no idea what he’s agreeing to. But he does know what he’s sinking his talons into next.
Someone is watching you.
You’ve felt a heavy gaze following you since your visit to the coffee shop, even as you headed to the hospital for work. You glance around the halls cautiously, not sure what to expect. A ghost, maybe?
“There you are!”
You jump as a hand slaps your back, but your nerves quickly settle at the sight of a familiar face. “Hey, Natsu.”
Natsuo grins but his face falls as he notices your tense state. “What’s wrong?”
“Nah, it’s…” You wave it off. “What did you need to call me in for?”
His expression becomes grim.
Natsuo Todoroki is inarguably your favorite person in the world. During incredibly long shift of dealing with grumpy and angry patients, Natsuo is the one who makes you smile through it. You’d think he’d have the opposite of a cooling quirk with the way he warms the hospital.
To see him this upset about something that isn’t his father makes you sick to your stomach.
“There’s been this string of patients coming in.” Natsuo says as he leads you down the hall. “And, well, they’re all the same— lowly criminals. Not anything we haven’t seen before.”
You digest his words. “Another gang fight?”
“We aren’t sure yet. The police is working with us, but the markings on them are what’s off.”
“Stab wounds?”
“You’d think.” Natsuo opens the doors to the sectioned-off portion of the ICU— which was already a bad sign that he was bringing you in here— and you immediately freeze at the sight.
5 of the beds have a host wrapped in the heaviest of bandages around their necks, yet blood still seeps through the cloth to give it a pink tint. The wrists of each patient are clinked into handcuffs, but it seems satirical with the unconscious state of the criminals.
The hum of shallow breaths and heart monitors fogs your brain. “What the fuck?”
Natsuo clears his throat before lowering his voice to a whisper. “Every single one of them had their carotid arteries slashed. There were 12 of them. We couldn’t save the other 7 and they were sent for an autopsy.”
You swallow. “And?”
“They thought it was a knife but they couldn’t match the markings to an exact weapon. Maybe it’s some weird knife quirk, I don’t know. I asked Shoto but he hasn’t found anything in the system.”
Your hand inadvertently drifts to your own neck, feeling for the pulsing vein with the tips of your fingers. “How’d the killer manage to nick all of them in the right spot?”
Natsuo narrows his eyes. “That’s what’s freaking me out. There’s only one wound on each patient and it always hit the artery.”
He jerks his head back out the door and you follow, quite anxious to leave the room anyway.
“The police and heroes are trying to keep this under wraps, until they find more information. But I’m telling all the staff anyway for safety reasons. The fact is that there’s a skilled killer on the loose.”
Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth. “What do we do?”
Natsuo pulls together the smallest of a smile. You can tell that he’s faking it to ease away your worry, which does make your heart melt at his graciousness but does nothing to stop you from internally panicking. “All we can do is to stay safe, that’s all.”
You went home soon after, since you had the whole week off before your next shit. Yet, you stayed in your apartment for the next few days, sheltered for the sake of your safety. A few texts from Natsuo revealed that three more people were brought into the ICU with the same wound. You promptly turned off your phone and triple-checked every lock in your apartment.
When you finally got called back into work, you distracted yourself with your job. Shrieking patients in pain only dulling down after you place a gentle hand on theirs, your quirk resolving the issue within seconds. Yet, the nagging fear in the back of your mind of the serial killer roaming the streets of Mustafu makes you lose a track of time. One patient turns into forty until you realize just how much you’ve overused your abilities.
“Hey, why don’t you go home?” Natsuo frowns as he seems the way your hands tremble, a tell-tale sign of you working too hard. “I’ll drive you back.”
You nod, relieved. No way could you walk to your apartment now.
“Of course you’d drive a Tesla.” You laugh as Natsuo leads you to his sparkling white car, the T practically winking at you.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He pouts, making you giggle even more. He opens the side door for you, the gentleman that he is.
“Itmeans it’s expected. Anyways, Natsu, how do you adjust the seat? This shit is going to kill my back.”
It takes you a moment to realize that Natsuo hadn’t even shut the door for you. He’s not standing next to the car, even though he was right there a moment ago.
“Natsuo?”
Silence. Leaves scrape the ground ominously.
Your legs swing out of the car swiftly, though they feel like jello when you find your placing on the ground. The parking lot has sparse cars, but is vacant of any people.
“Nat—”
A hand slaps over your mouth, cloth against your nose. The smell is immediate, overpoweringly sweet and sticky. It reminds you of your childhood, licking away at cherry-flavored popsicles that dripped down your fingers. It also reminds you of your organic chemistry class in college, the warnings that your professor has drilled into you, the large “DO NOT INHALE” sticker on the side of one of the bottles.
Chloroform.
But that memory took too long to emerge— you’re already slumping in the grip of the stranger, black dots swimming in your vision.
“Please don’t kill me.” You whisper to no one in particular, hoping that some being beyond can save your fate. A hero.
“You’re gonna wish I did.” The stranger chuckles before everything goes dark.
Your brain feels like wisps of cotton candy when you finally gain consciousness. You crack your eyes open, but the immediate light makes you hiss. After a few blinks, you peak down and see that you’re sitting in a metal chair in the middle of an empty warehouse. Your wrists are clasped behind your back in red rope, which dig into your delicate skin.
“Shit.”
Too busy deciding whether dislocating your thumbs is worth the pain in order to break free, you don’t notice that you are not alone.
“She’s awake. Tell the boss.”
A chill crawls its way up your spine. You turn your head as best as you can, catching a glimpse of a handful of men in black suits. Your hands become slick with sweat when you notice how each of them have a holster and gun. Dateline did not prepare you for this.
“C'mon.” One of them— who has way too much gel in his hair— grabs you by your bicep and pulls you out of the chair. Your feet stumble trying to keep up with him.
Your mind swarms with questions, but your inate instincts tell you to keep quiet. As Gel Hair (yes, you’ve nicknamed him and everything) drags you through the hall with the others following close behind, you try your best to take in all the details you can.
The warehouse door leads to a well-furnished hallway— one like that of a 5-star hotel. The cream wallpaper and gold decals are in pristine shape. The crimson patterned carpet has a shade too close to that of blood. The chandeliers swing above you like icicles ready to impale you with every step. The men behind you chatter quietly, but you catch some of the words. Office. Mission. Killed.
“Hey, let’s go.” Gel Hair grunts, tugging your elbow harder. You hadn’t realized that your legs tensed up at that last word.
The group stops at a grand door, two guards with the same suit attire standing side to side. Instead of a gun in their holster, they each hold an assalt rifle— the ones you only see in action movies. You feel faint.
“This her?” One of them asks, and Gel Hair nods. The guard prompty swings the door open. And you stubbornly plant your feet further into the ground, refusing to enter.
A sickening feeling coats your body. It’s the same sensation you get when you peer over the edge of a cliff, when you catch a glimpse of a black cat wandering down an alley, when you get an emergency call from the hospital during your break.
An overwhelmingly powerful force within you knows that something terrible will happen if you set foot through that office.
“The fuck are you doing? Move!” Gel Hair snarls, yanking you forward.
You squirm in his grip, desperately pulling back. “No! Let me go, you fucking asshole! You have the wrong person!”
Filled to the brim with desperation, you do the only thing you can. You shriek at the top of your lungs.
The two guards notibly cringe before lifting their guns in defense. Gel Hair slaps his palm over your mouth. Perfect.
You chomp down on his hand.
The feeling of pride at Gel Hair’s blood-curdling scream and the taste of metal is short-lived. He slaps you hard, but you don't— can’t— register the pain, not when he’d pulled out his gun and pressed the barrel up against your forehead.
“You crazy bitch, I’m gonna blow your fucking brains out. Ha?” He grins as you whimper, heart thrumming so hard that you have to read his lips to understand what he’s saying. “Don’t care that you’re the boss’s girl, I’m gonna kill you. How does—”
There’s a flash of red. That’s it. This is it. You were shot in the head, cause of death: brain hemorrhage. You can picture your graveyard: Here lies a daughter, a healer, a friend. But the red clears and Gel Hair is still and expressionless. Blood spurts from his neck, spraying droplets against your face as if it were an empty canvas. He crumples to the floor, gasping and clawing at his wound.
Again, all you can do is scream.
Your knees buckle as you fall to the ground as pure and utter shock chills you to your bone.
"What did I tell you all? She’s precious cargo!” A voice chirps disappointedly, like a parent scolding their child. The sound crashes over you like a wave, roaring and echoing in familiarity.
You slowly lift your head. It can’t be.
“Well. At least he wasn’t one of our better members.”
A tight black-and-gold shirt is paired with baggy khakis. The belt around the waist glints golden Hs across the band. And behind him, large vermillion plumes drape behind his back like a deranged version of a cape.
No fucking way.
His golden eyes squint as he smiles, the black markings at the corners of his eyes sharpening his glare on you. “Hey, sweetheart.”
The “rope” holding your wrists together unfurls, looping around your face to flaunt itself as a feather, before it finds it’s place back to Keigo’s wings.
“Didn’t want to meet this way but, y’know.”
“What the fuck?” The venom coating your words surprises you, but it’s understandably. “You kidnapped me? You… you’e the one who killed all those people, didn’t you? Keigo, you’re on Japan’s Most Wanted—“
“Memorized my wiki page, huh?“
He’s laughing. Your blood simmers beneath your skin. He’s killing people for fun and he’s laughing.
Even though the Commission capitalized on your healing quick, they did teach you basic self-defense and fighting techniques.
You aim for his legs. An easy sweep, so long as you pounce quickly and hit right above the knees.
Of course, you’d forgotten just how strong he is.
As you lunge in his direction, two feathers circle around each of your wrists and tug you back. Unshed tears from the stress, the fear, the anger spill over your waterline.
“What do you want from me?” You scowl, teeth bared and ready to lash out.
“Your compliance.” Keigo takes a few steps forward, bending down to your height. You can’t pull away as he brings a calloused hand to your face, gently cupping your cheek. “We can’t have you biting away at my men, can we?”
You can feel bile rising up. “And why the hell should I listen to anything you say?”
“Hmm…” Keigo hums, the edge of his grin stretching even wider, Joker-esque. “We do have your Todoroki boy with us, don’t we?”
You blink, heart sinking. “No.”
“If you comply, then there’s no need to worry.” Keigo gives your cheek a pat before rising back up to his full height. His shadow paints over you, sealing your fate.
“Take her back to the bedroom. And someone, clean this shit up. I don’t need the scent of blood in my hallway.”
“That went well, huh?”
“Shut the fuck up, Jin.”
Keigo clenches and unclenches his fists, snarling as he makes his way back into his office. He didn’t want to scare you away, but the fear and fury in your eyes confirmed it all.
But, you’re tough. You can handle a little blood, right?
Besides, spring is creeping in quickly. He’s already showing signs of his impending rut— nails growing sharp, eyes becoming more slanted and predatory. Hell, he’s surprised that he didn’t rip that Todoroki boy to shreds when Keigo caught his scent on you. His business partner, Dabi, wouldn’t be too pleased if Keigo tore into his beloved brother.
Nevertheless, Keigo needs you to comply soon. Because he’s about to lose every ounce of his self-control once spring begins.
Happy Summer! Preorders are back with a few new characters, as well as standees and fucking bullshit charms. And as a thank you, a fresh complimentary charm will be added to orders of 3 or more charms ✨
anon asked: Hi, can i request headcanons of soft (dom) hawks, hitoshi, and or maybe kirishima seeing their SO with their hoodies/shirt(?) and somehow it turned them on?
seeing you in his clothes is honestly one of his favorite things
being half bird and all, he likes to have his scent on you whenever he can
and you in his clothes are just one way to meet his wants!
keigo usually asks you to wear his shirt or bring a shirt of his if you leave for a work trip or something
you never knew why until you did some research and asked another one of your hybrid friends
since he always asked for you to wear his clothes, you decided to take it into your own hands and wear a shirt yourself
the LOOK. on his face. when he comes home to see you cleaning up
clad in nothing but his oversized merch shirt and underwear
his wings kind of flutter a little, and when you turn to look at him he looks a little dazed
“welcome home, keigo.” you’d smile innocently at him, walking up to hug him
and his eyes just go…⬇️⬇️
“looking—good, birdie.” he’ll murmur, wrapping his arms around your waist
you smell like you, but you also smell like him
and you can tell he really likes it because his wings fold over the both of you guys too and he starts kissing at your neck
“do you like this?”
“mm..” and his hands would just go straight to your ass LMAO
cue him picking you up with his wings still around you and carrying you back to the bedroom ♀️
he gropes you for the entire day
shinsou is the king of wearing hoodies and sweaters
they are his comfort clothes.
he’s never thought of you wearing his clothes or whatever
not that he doesn’t want that, you just never asked and he never offered
so he can’t believe his reaction when he comes home from hero work and sees you, his lovely spouse, in one of his favorite purple sweaters and some shorts
his eyes r basically glued to your legs. but the sight of you in his favorite sweatshirt makes his face a little hot
“y/n,” he’d ask you, approaching you from behind, his face in your neck
“why are you wearing that?”
“do you not like it?” you’d pout, especially when he held you tighter. “i’ll take it off.”
“no,”his mouth would find your pulse point, hands massaging your stomach underneath the hoodie.
(Highlights in bold and Invite link is atthe bottom.)
Myself and a few others have worked to create this LGBTQ+ server, open to the whole community, we’ve got channels for general things, gaming, memes etc but we also have channels specifically for queer topics such as;
Spinner: fitness tip: never stop pushing yourself. Some say 8 hours of sleep is enough. Why not keep going? Why not 9? Why not 10? Strive for greatness.
Dabi: next time you’re working out do 15 push ups instead of 10. Run 3 miles instead of 2. Eat a whole cake instead of just a slice. Burn your ex’s house down. You can do it. I believe in you.
Hawks : there were so many mixed messages in that I can’t
