#feel free to share oc interactions i would appreciate it

[tiny-chiro]

Information

Name: Elizabeth Crowen

Nicknames: Eliza, Liz, Lizzie, Eri

Birthday: 20th December, 1874

Nationality: British

Blood Status: Pure-blood

House: Ravenclaw

Wand: Beech, 10¼ inch ,Phoenix's feather core.

Animagus: Crow

Patronus: Python

Boggart: Becoming voiceless

Sexuality: Demisexual

Mbti type: ESTJ-A

Zodiac sign: Sagittarius

OTHER INFORMATION

Likes, Dislikes, Good at, Bad at, Fun facts, Backstory

Likes

Ominis

Her Friends

Sing/ Music

Astronomy

Books

People with potential and ambition

Those who raised her

Almost everything that her friends likes

Dislikes

Her mother

Izumi´s girlfriend (she literally wants to kill her)

Pretentious people

Lies

Empty words

Good at

Potions

Charms

Astronomy

History of magic

Music

Bad at

Flying (she dosen't undestand why she has to fly on a broom when she is a bird)

Fun Facts

Her favourite colours are purple and black (yes, she is basically a goth).

Polyglot (she was forced from an early age to learn as many languages as possible).

Seems quite annoying but is actually kind.

Loves sweets (although she's ashamed to admit it).

Bookworm (she has probably already read all the books in the library including the forbidden section).

Loves to sing and wants to become a professional singer (without giving up her family's business).

Possesses ancestral magic, but unlike the protagonist, no one knew about it apart from her and her father at one point, she "uses" it to try to read such old and rare scriptures that are in a language so ancient that possibly even God forgot.

When she starts to lose patience with someone she calls them by their full name.

He tries to help Ada study astronomy… but fails in the process.

BackStory

During this time the Crowen family's business is that of information, although they are spread across basically the entire globe, the main and most powerful family is in the UK.

Elizabeth's parents have a contract marriage, one of the conditions of this contract is to have an heir, no matter what sex.

The relationship with her parents is quite bad, her mother since she was born didn't even want to take care of her, she generally ignores her as if she didn't exist and when she doesn't ignore her she insults her for no reason.

Her father at least knows of her existence, but his response to anything that concerns Elizabeth is "Do what you want, just don't take the family business to the rubbish".

Basically the workers in the main house took care of her.

By the age of 5 she was fully capable of handling her mother's responsibilities as hostess of the house.

The titles "father" and "mother" are of no value to her and she only uses them as a formality.

She joined Hogwarts in first year, and has been friends with Aderyn ever since.

When Sebastian's sister happened, she tried to help her with the information she had, but it wasn't enough.

She is currently trying to find a way to help him.

For now, that's all there is about her

I share canon with these wonderful people:

@yoselin-uyu || @jasminediaz || @khamoise || @aleapple1216 || @maleliddell

See you next time for more)?

[miriaocs]

GET TO KNOW YOUR TWST OCs (and their relationships)

(Or how I make up excuses to blabber about my OC lol. Most of the "who" questions are aimed at the twst cast, but feel free to include other twst OCs as well!)

Name: What does your twst OC's name mean? Why does Rook/Floyd call them [insert nickname]?

Inspiration: Is your twst OC inspired by any villains? Concepts? Anything Disney-related?

Age/Birthday: How old is your twst OC? When is their birthday? Whose birthday (among the cast) is closest to your twst OC's? Does the horoscope lie or do they get along well?

Dorm: Which dorm is your twst OC in? Why? Which qualities they have make them suitable for said dorm? Do they have a roommate and how is their relationship?

Class: Who is your twst OC's classmate(s)? How would you describe their relationship? Did they have different classmates in previous year and did they get along?

Height: How tall is your twst OC? Are they conscious about their height? Are they close to someone with similar leg length?

Hair/Eye color: What are your twst OC's hair and eye colors? Who got the closest/opposite palette to them?

Homeland: Where is your twst OC from? Do they know anyone from the same hometown prior to NRC?

Club: Which club does your twst OC join and why? Is there anything memorable about the club fair day/their first day at the club? Which clubmate is their favorite?

Subject: What is your twst OC's best subject? Worst? Do they study with another whom excels at the same subject? Do they ask anyone for help with the subject they are bad at?

Hobby: What are your twst OC's hobbies? Who among the cast will they possibly ask to join in their pastime?

Pet peeves: What are your twst OC's pet peeves and which one in the cast accidentally (or not) commit the "crimes"? How will your twst OC deal with that person?

Food: What is your twst OC's favorite and least favorite food? Why (optional)? Is there anyone they can share their favorite food? Is there anyone they can count on to take over the food they dislike?

Talent: What is your twst OC's talent(s) and who can properly appreciate that?

Unique Magic/Signature spell: What is your twst OC's UM (if applicable)? What can they do? What is the incantation? Is there any weaknesses/loopholes and who can exploit those?

Quote: Give me something your twst OC will say. Either something they always say or something iconic they said. Something that helps solve the problems or something that is a catalyst to even more issues.

(Ok I'm kinda running out of ideas here) Personality: Give me 3 adjectives to describe your twst OC. Or an essay. Whichever works. Whose personality among the cast is closest to your twst OC and do they get along?

Backstory: Tell me anything about your twst OC's backstory. Their childhood, their parents, their siblings etc. Does their backstory affect how they are as a character now and how they interact with the cast?

Pick only one: Let your twst OC pick only one and explain the reasons: only one favorite from each dorm, only one favorite housewarden/vice housewarden, only one favorite first/second/third year etc.

(For my beloved yume shippers) Partner: Who do you ship your twst OC with? Are they in a relationship? If yes, how did it start/end? If no, why?

[shibaraki]

TO BUILD A HOME ┊ TODOROKI SHOUTO

synopsis: todoroki shouto is the ideal roommate. he is tidy, quiet, considerate, and one of your dearest friends. you almost wished he were a tactless slob. it would certainly make navigating your feelings for him easier.

tags: GN reader, friends to lovers, pro hero shouto, quirk support engineer reader, living together (and they were roommates!), mutual pining, fluff, alcohol, other character interactions, domesticity, jealous shouto, a little angst, minor oc, love confessions, making out + frottage

wc: 14K+

a/n: I wrote a little bonus sequel for this au about their first date which you can read here !! [+4K]

Shouto’s home strikes a dissonant note with you.

You’re a statuesque centrepiece in his living room, staring out his tall standing windows, paneled wall to wall and making for a beautiful view of the city. There’s a soft shine to it, iridescent from corner to corner. A privacy film to block any view into the apartment from the outside, you’re guessing.

Despite your closeness you’ve never had reason to visit until now. There’s far too much space for one man, you think. Jarringly, it’s as if you’ve stepped into a studio display. A picture perfect bachelor pad— but really, what bachelor pad needed three family sized bedrooms?

It feels awfully lonely.

Shouto heaves the last of your boxes onto the kitchen island with ease. The muscles in his arms flex under his loose shirt, fabric briefly tightening. Unfair, you think. He hasn’t even broken a sweat.

Back straightening, you watch Shouto roll back his shoulder and rub at the joint. The movement causes the hem to lift and flash a pale swath of skin, his shorts hung low on his hips. The weight in your arms is somehow heavier with his eyes turned onto you.

“You can set it down,” he says, his tone full of warm mirth. The disbelief must be written plain on your face. Your fingers tighten on the corners as he walks over. Tilting his head, the red strands that have been haphazardly pushed back into white slip over his forehead. You watch his gaze dart over the label scribbled onto the card that reads ‘toiletries’.

“I know. I’m just…” your jaw shifts and you swallow, a frown etched into your brow. “I don’t know. Got a little lost in my thoughts”.

“Feel free to change whatever you like,” his mouth curls into a small smile, scar wrinkling by his eye. You are taken by just how happy he looks to have you here. Shouto seemed the type to appreciate his own space. “I want you to be comfortable”.

“Whatever I like?” you echo teasingly, shucking the box up in your embrace and bumping his shoulder. “Famous last words. Maybe I’ll decide to renovate your other guest room into a mini workshop”.

Shouto exhales a quiet laugh. The air around him is displaced by an ephemeral wave of heat that seeps through your sweater; it cools back to room temperature as quick as it came.

“I wouldn’t oppose it,” he says, and your breath catches. Reaching to poke at the box, he adds, “Do you want me to help you unpack?”

You begin to shake your head. “No, no. I can do all that, don’t worry,” you demurred nervously.

“It wouldn’t be a problem”.

Memories of all the things you managed to salvage in the wreck flicker across your mind's eye. Mugs and plates, a few clothes, oil stained tools and various other inappropriate things you’d rather die than have him accidentally discover.

But he’s staring at you like a restless puppy. You relent, “Maybe you can put away the kitchen stuff then”.

After Shouto retreats you are left adrift to navigate the narrow corridors. The room he directs you to has the biggest guest bed and it shares a wall with his own room. You shuffle in, processing your surroundings. Your linens are freshly washed, tucked in tight at the corners, and they smell like him.

You lower another box on top of the bed and sit by the headboard. The mattress yields. Admittedly it is much more comfortable than your old bed used to be. Soft, you sink into a foamy embrace, smoothing a hand over the matching pillowcases, then reaching up to the shared accent wall.

Reality has hardly set in for you yet. It’s been four days since you lost your home, most of your earthly possessions along with it, and the life you had spent years building. The villain that managed to frisbee a car through your living room had been apprehended but not before destroying half the city block.

Shouto immediately volunteered his own place. You have been close friends for years now, having met during your second year at UA as a support course student. You’d worked with Yaomomo on redesigning her costume for your portfolio and managed to worm your way into their quaint friend group.

Your initial crush on him all that time ago burgeoned into something you’re too anxious to put a name to. When he first suggested you live with him while the city fixed everything you’d wanted to refuse. So far lack of proximity has been your only saving grace.

But you really had nowhere else suitable to stay. A hotel would be too costly in the long run. Your other friends are scattered across different prefectures and those who are in the city are too far from work.

Shouto practically sparkled when you agreed, plucked right out of a shoujo manga.

You remember this as your fingers curled into a loose fist and gave the wall a quiet knock. All the tension accumulated in your shoulders relaxes at the dull sound. “Atleast it isn’t thin,” you mused.

There’s a large closet adjacent to the bed, deep enough that you could crawl inside comfortably. Windows that stretch above your head and overlook the busy streets. You notice that same iridescent sheen, alongside a large blind connected to the control pad fixed by your doorway. They roll down as you fiddle and remind you of those old school projectors from the pre quirk era.

The walls are almost entirely bare. Your imagination drifts to the countless books and photo albums you managed to bring, envisioning them taking up the empty space. It makes you wonder what Shouto’s room looks like. You squash that thought.

When you rejoin him he stands with his back to you, blades shifting under the material as he plays with a small round object held between his fingers. Closing the distance you realise it is one of your stress balls.

His expression is entirely relaxed, bright with a little child-like satisfaction. He pulls at the flexible rubber, rolling it under his thumbs, flattening in between his palms. Your novelty mugs are lined up in the open cupboard right beside his own, entirely forgotten.

As not to startle him you call out gently, “Hey”.

Your voice stalls his movement. Shouto pivots and meets your eyes; they widen as you laugh, amused by his forced nonchalance. He clears his throat, “Hi. Are you happy with the room?”

Humming an affirmative, you sidle up next to him and poke at the ball. “It’s fine, thank you. Nicer than my old place”.

Redirecting his attention to the ball, he squeezes it so hard the foamy rubber protrudes through the gaps in his fingers and lets go, smiling as it retains its original shape. “I liked your old apartment,” he murmurs. “It suited you”.

“Because I’m a mess, you mean?” drawn back into Shouto’s orbit, you lean against his left side. He mirrors your weight until you are like two pillars braced against one another, standing uselessly in the middle of his obviously unused kitchen. Your heart aches recalling all those nights he spent at the agency doing unnecessary overtime. Maybe he just hadn’t wanted to come back here.

“No,” Shouto huffs lightly, passing the ball hand to hand. He doesn’t elaborate. Instead he bumps you with his hip, “Come with me. I’ll give you a tour so you know where everything is”.

You are guided back to the genkan; it’s gorgeous, modernised with a calligraphy feature wall that breaks up the light colours. There is a narrow door leading to a coat room and two white cabinets under a granite countertop housing a small decorative bowl painted in Deku’s colours. Inside are your keys and his, the chains entangled.

Very quickly you realise Shouto doesn’t even know where ‘everything’ is. He opens the cupboard doors hesitantly, in a way that suggests he had no idea what is in them. One filled by his shoes and slippers, the other left empty.

The coat closet holds a few jackets you only ever see him wear in winter. He pinches the waterproof puffy sleeve between finger and thumb with a curious sound. Quietly, “I forgot that I had this”.

“You wore it once and Bakugo said you looked like an ugly toasted marshmallow”.

“That’s right,” a smirk pulls at his lips, mouth thin to restrain his laughter. You dip your chin to hide how infectious it is. “He hated it. Maybe I should take it with me tomorrow and wear it around the agency”.

“Please don’t. He’s coming to see me later in the day and I need him in a good mood”.

Shouto glances at you from the corner of his eye, sunlight reflecting through the blue iris. You would recognise that air of mischief anywhere. “I mean it, Shouto!”

“The day after, then”.

“As long as I’m not in the line of fire,” you snort, itching absentmindedly at your forearm where the skin feels tender. Probably bruising after carrying everything up. “Antagonising Pro Heroes should be listed as a hobby on your wiki page”.

You fall in line with his footsteps once more and keep pace until he stops by another door. There’s a laundry room and a separate toilet by the genkan, first door to the right. Upon opening the door the white toilet lid lifts.

You gasp and clutch his bicep, far too excitable to register how firm it is. “You never told me you have a happy toilet. What the hell, Shouto?”

Still nestled in his palm, you notice Shouto squeezes the stress ball until the foam is straining under the stretchy skin but you say nothing of it. He swallows and echoes your words, “A happy toilet?”

“Yeah, ‘cause it's happy to see you! Isn’t it cute?”

He turns with his cheek between his teeth, exhaling a warm puff of air through his nose. “Yeah,” Shouto rasps. “It’s cute”.

The entrance leads to a hallway, opening at the end to an open plan living area and kitchen. A black and white palette, dark stained wood flooring from room to room. You stand by and watch fondly as he opens every half empty drawer. The sectional couch is a welcome splash of colour— deep royal blue, huge, L shaped and plush, facing a 60 inch TV held up by a cabinet with a few books and photographs inside.

You toe at the fluffy grey rug laid out under the coffee table. His place is spectacular, sure, but it isn’t Shouto. While left unspoken it seemed you both knew that. There’s an abashed pinch to his expression that’s endearing, yet sad; you thought he might be embarrassed by how threadbare his home life appeared to be.

“You ever use that thing?” you ask, pointing to the TV. Predictably, Shouto shakes his head.

“Not very much. These days it feels like I only come here to sleep,” he leans over to pick up the remote from between the cushions and balances it on the arm of the couch. “Every few months Uraraka and Midoriya will visit to order food and watch movies with me. You can use it whenever you want”.

The bathroom is opposite your bedroom doors. He taps his own in passing but does not open it. You step into a bright, white tiled room with a double vanity sink and murmur in awe. Above are ceiling lights that give a soft glow, giving it a warm toned hue. Behind a glass door is a bowl shaped bathtub, big enough to fit two.

“Damn…” you whisper, running your fingers over the control pad connected to the tub. There’s a big bath cover propped by the wall. “A sauna button, too?”

“Not that I need it,” he muses, standing by the doorway, hands loosely interlocked as he observes you navigating his space. Intuitively, you get the sense that this is the beginning of a true paradigm shift. His offer had been the fork in the road and your agreement took you down a path soon to be irreversible.

You could survive seeing him at work or out with the mutual friends you shared. You’re not sure how you’ll weather the domesticity that comes with living together.

The reflection in the mirror shifts awkwardly and you grimace at how hard you’re trying to act like a normal human being. This is just Shouto: your good friend and longtime supporter. Just the man you might possibly be in love with.

“We should probably talk about ground rules and stuff,” you begin, hoping it’ll wipe that gentle look off his face before you say something stupid.

“Ground rules?” Shouto pushes off from the door frame with his back straight. He tilts his head, sight following you closely as you scoot past him back into the hallway.

“Like a chore rota and stuff. Rules so we can live in harmony or something. And you still need to let me know how much I’m paying you”.

“But I don’t want you to”.

You pause mid step and turn to stare at him in soft incredulity. “Why not? It’s only right I contribute”.

Steadfast, he holds your gaze and bluntly says, “I have a higher income than you. There’s no need for you to pay me rent”.

“Way to rub it in”.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you laugh at the rare wobble to his voice and knock your hands together as a sign of forgiveness. His eyes squint into a smile. “It just feels unfair for me to ask that of you”.

The hallway falls dim as clouds gather, casting shadows that make the private bubble you’re in seem that much smaller. “But I want to,” you reassured him. “Come on— forty percent?”

“Thirty”.

You hold out three fingers up on the right and five on the left. You try again, “Thirty five?”

“Thirty,” he doubles down, covering the entirety of your left hand with his own. You feel his thumb skim your inner wrist and your resolve breaks.

“…Fine”.

Shouto grins boyishly and you do not acknowledge the flutter in your stomach.

The first few days are cautious despite your desire to behave as normal. At night you found yourself acutely aware of Shouto’s presence behind the bedroom wall. Your senses latched onto every muted bump and creak; the quiet drew thoughts you so valiantly avoided the surface and you could do nothing besides parse through them.

It made sleeping difficult.

You’d wondered if Shouto was having the same issue but the drowsy gait and hair plastered to one side of his head only ever spoke of a good night's rest. He wears loose silk pyjama pants to bed, low on his hips and an inch or so longer at the leg so they always caught under his heel as he walked.

Seeing him relaxed and fumbling like a fawn before his morning tea felt as if a big star was fizzing in your chest. It’s strange, in a tentative way, not an uncomfortable one.

The dust settles and a chore rota is scribbled out on a white board and pinned to the refrigerator with a worn All Might magnet. Your hours are less hectic so you offered to do the weekly shopping. Shouto volunteers for the laundry— his sister set the machines up for him when he first moved and he hasn’t moved the dials since— and taking out the garbage. Together you build a precariously clumsy peace, a mimicry of home.

Things started to change.

A kaleidoscope can take on an entirely new pattern with just the subtle turn of the lense. Weeks lapse. You stopped asking for permission and he no longer sought reassurance that you were happy. Existing parallel to one another, your lives fit seamlessly, though not without effort.

You’ve never known him to be a tactile type of guy— back when you rushed to hug him at graduation he’d brandished his diploma like a weapon before noticing it was you. Now, Shouto playfully hip checks you in the kitchen, he sits closer than he needs to on the couch and texts you at random throughout the day. He brings you a treat if his route overlaps your commute, keeping it hot in his left hand. He even greets you by the door on the rare occasion he finishes a shift first.

Your heart is fatter than ever and you aren’t quite sure what to do with it or where to put it down. After the city has rebuilt your apartment block and deemed it safe you’ll be returning to a normal you don’t recognise anymore.

You’re finalising the upgrade for Dynamite’s summer gauntlets when your phone buzzes on your bench. The vibration carries it closer to the edge and you scoop it up before the inevitable fall, cursing at the oil smeared around the case. The screen lights up.

shouto : 1 minute ago

There’s an image attached with no explanation. You are met with the open skyline, dense clouds of every shape and size dotted across a blue canvas. Shouto’s arm is in the shot, finger pointed towards one cloud in particular.

You squint at it. Zoom in on your phone, tilt it to the side, flip it in the editor and outline it— and nothing rings a bell. It’s a white blob. 

Another notification drops down at the top of your screen. You wipe your hand against your overalls and open it. 

shouto : just now 

ヾ(=^・ｪ・^)

Your nose wrinkles as you glance back to the photo. Granted, it does have two pointed edges that could be interpreted as cat ears if you squinted. Maybe. This isn’t new — he burned his toast three days ago and took a picture simply because it looked vaguely feline. 

you : delivered 

aren’t u supposed to be on patrol? 

The message turns to ‘read’ quicker than expected. You panic and click off the conversation, setting the phone face up on your workbench and reading from your locked screen. Lately, despite living together and seeing one another every day, Shouto seems to have more to say to you than ever. 

shouto : just now

Divine intervention. We should get a cat. 

The use of ‘we’ pings around your head like a pinball. Ever since the initial dubitation smoothed out he's become much more flippant about things— treating your situation as though it were permanent. 

An intern shuffles into the workshop with a thick binder. Not one of yours, you realise. One of Mei’s. They blink curiously as your phone buzzes again, loud where it clatters on the hard surface, and you bite down on your inner cheek, hard, keeping your feelings at bay. 

When handed the papers you breathe in recognition. They’ve been coordinated into two groups, and you’d know that logo anywhere. “The costume applications for the upcoming UA students! I wondered why they hadn’t come in yet”. 

“Yes, for 1A and 1B. Hatsume-san said these ended up on her desk,” they said, gesticulating nervously, “and that I— I should give them to you?”

“Well If not for you I’m sure these would’ve ended up buried under all her discarded prototypes,” you demurred, offering what you hoped was a reassuring smile. “Thank you”. 

Abruptly, your phone gives another violent jerk and disrupts the moment. The intern squeaks, rigidity returning to her posture, and scurries out with a rushed goodbye. You sink into your arms, forehead pressed to the cool metal. Surely you aren’t that scary.

Turning the screen, you read the texts and sigh fondly.  

shouto : 4 minutes ago

An older cat would be nice. 

shouto : just now

Should we order tonight? 

My treat. 

Your gaze lifts to find the time at the top of the screen. It blinks back at you, the hour changing. Not long until you can head out. 

you : delivered 

it isn’t a treat for me if it’s more cold soba. give me variety or give me death (งಠ_ಠ)ง

The cursor flickers. Your thumb hovers over the keyboard, hesitating on the final letter. Something so minor that feels bigger than it has any right to be. 

“Stop being ridiculous,” you mutter, sending it before your mind can change. 

you : read 

be safe ok? I’ll see you at home. 

When he doesn’t reply you figure he’s returned to his job, thus you return to yours. 

Dynamite was once again trusting you with his gear. Bakugo had been extraordinarily protective over his initial design in highschool. Great bulbous things strapped to each wrist, grenade-like appearance, so big that his arms became pendulous and swung away from his body as he walked. The shoulder strain was immense. 

You fought tooth and nail to get him to accept your adjustments. Now every summer you remodelled the gauntlets to be lighter and ventilated, and in winter you added in insulation and flexibility. 

Respectively, the gauntlets still weigh a lot without additional stored nitroglycerin. You lift, bending at the knees and groaning as you lower them both down into a protective case, slotting into foam padding for protection. No doubt they’d end up rough on the first day but you still wanted them to arrive without a scratch. 

Evening draws near. Closing the lid, it gives a satisfying click. You fiddle with the lock pad and calibrate it to open only for Bakugo’s thumb print before lugging the case to the built-in vault in your workshop, where it’ll be kept over the weekend. 

Mei’s lab is directly opposite your own. Despite the dense soundproofing and reinforced steel concrete the jarring screech of a saw echoes throughout the hallway. You press your hand to the towering door, muscle fibres wracked by vibrations. Bidding her goodbye would be futile— she’s been working on a new patent for months now. The rest of the world fell away when she got like this. 

Heading through to the main lobby, you greet those passing by with a nod, exchanging hurried words. It was always as though time didn’t exist here. People worked all hours, any hours. Flexibility was a point of pride for your company, and seeing someone eat breakfast after midnight wasn’t uncommon. 

You preferred a regular schedule. Routine keeps you moderately sane. A cool breeze gusts through the sliding doors as you duck into the street; you hiss at the immediate change in temperature. Patting down your coat pockets you dig out your phone, sending a one-handed text to Shouto while you slip in your earbuds. 

Cacophonous bustling of the streets now muffled, you scroll through a playlist and click at random. An upbeat melody carries you to the station, scooting through the throngs of people and tapping your card at the barriers. 

You pick up the pace, scurrying onto the train right before the doors close. A stranger glares, looking over your dishevelled state with judgement. You find a narrow corner, left standing on the far end of the carriage, squashed up against the window to make room for other passengers. 

Conscious about the volume. you turned down your music a tad and sank into the confines of your coat. Shouto’s apartment is miraculously closer than your old one, meaning the commute is much shorter, and your time spent in bed is much longer. Three stops pass and the sky begins to bruise. Purple hues blend gently into red, the sun a fiery hearth on the seam of the horizon that blinks abruptly between the passing buildings. 

When you reach home Shouto still hasn’t texted back. You bend to arrange your shoes, coat hung beside his terrible winter puffer. The floor is cold under socked feet, pottering through to the living room in search of the TV remote. 

You flinch as the newscaster's voice blurts out of the speakers. Shouto must have left it on the news channel this morning. Watching the scene unfold on the screen you feel your heart climb your throat. 

Shouto is a hero— a number of your friends are. Villain fights are not only inevitable, they’re a requirement. The truth of it doesn’t make reality any easier to swallow. Uravity is a welcome sight. She’s fighting diligently alongside Shouto, up against multiple villains seemingly working in tandem to destroy the area. 

You always thought villains were a good example of how versatile and powerful even the most innocuous quirks can be. Topspin can morph their limbs into a whirling top, and with years of training has gained the ability to form small tornados using momentum. Another you recognise is Cryo, a woman capable of making her body intangible similarly to Lemillion— though she is able to freeze you temporarily if she phases through your body. 

There are others, too. Criminals you don’t recognise. It’s been a long time since a big group tried to organise in this manner. You worry at your lip, bracing against the back of the couch for support. What you find most concerning is they don’t seem to have a goal. Just mass destruction, plain and simple. 

“Come on,” you think anxiously, nails digging into the cushion as you watch Shouto brace a falling building with his ice, creating an emergency slide for those left inside to escape. You’ve always marvelled at his parallel processing skills— Deku, too. Their thoughts must be running a million miles a second. 

The cameras switch to highlight the other heroes and you realise you’ve been holding your breath. You exhale, physically deflating, feeling the weight of your phone in your pants pocket. Clean up would take a while once the battle is won; curry night is off the table. 

That’s fine. You could forgive it as long as he came back in one piece. 

Evening sinks into night. Shouto comes home after you’ve retired to your bed, though you aren’t asleep yet; you took to staring at the ceiling, waiting for a call from the hospital that you hoped wouldn’t come. 

The distant sound of his boots hitting the floor has relief flooding through your system. You strain to listen as he makes his way through the apartment, deliberately quiet. You hear him head straight to the bathroom. The echo of running water muffles after the door closes with a soft click. 

You check your phone once more, scanning over the recent updates and not finding much. You consider leaving him alone. Villain fights are hard on the body and the heart. Shouto likes space to process things before he speaks on them, and so you don't want to overstep. 

That sentiment dissipates steadily. Five minute intervals that feel like hours. Shouto is in the bathroom for a long, long time. You are seated on the edge of your bed with the covers pulled back when he finally comes out. 

Warm light streams beneath your doorway. Muscles clenched, you daren’t move an inch as a stretch of shadow moves across. Shouto stands outside your room and you stare, silently urging him to knock and give you an excuse. 

After a beat, Shouto turns away. He flicks off the bathroom light and shuffles down the hallway, away from his own bedroom. Your feet tentatively touch the floor and you slide off the bed with hands held out, careful not to knock into any furniture on the way. 

Goose pimples raise across your forearms. You’re in sleep shorts and a ratty old shirt on a cool spring night. No wind and no clouds, the moon hung high and bright. You have never seen the city so eerily still at this hour. 

The air always retains the warmth of his body for a while, and you feel it lingering when you step into the hallway. 

Voice kept to a whisper, you softly called for him, “Shouto?” 

You find him sitting in the middle of the couch. The blinds are up, moonlight flooding in. Shouto is a solid silhouette outlined in white. 

“Did something happen?” 

The fight ended up dragging on for a while, so you’re in the dark. Details about casualties were steadily being released to news outlets as the heroes dug through the remaining rubble. You’ve yet to hear of any deaths, civilian or otherwise, which is a relief. 

He lifts his head, “I’m fine. Sorry if I woke you”. 

“You didn’t,” Shouto’s gaze follows as you shuffle towards him, footfalls loud on the hardwood floor. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”

The silence is suffocating. Your vision adjusts to the darkness, stuck on the downturn of his mouth and pallid eyes. “We’re friends right? Friends share their burdens,” you try again, awkwardness leaking out with every syllable. “I’m here for you”. 

He looks away. There’s a dark, disquieting bruise blooming on his jaw. Subconsciously, Shouto presses a finger onto the bruise and the blood beneath it recedes, paling and returning like the tide. 

You don’t sit too close— worried proximity might be suffocating. The couch arm is firm under you, feet propped on the seat cushion. Shouto wets his lips, as if to alleviate the gravity of his words. 

“A group of school children were in the theatre when it collapsed,” he rasps. His hand curls into a tight fist, sparks of fire diminishing between his knuckles. “They were young. No older than ten”. 

“You blame yourself”. 

Turning to you, light casts softly across half of his face, pooling in his left eye. “I was a second too late and now—” he stops, the words caught in his throat. 

“Because of my mistakes those children are stuck with the traumatic memory of being trapped under all that rubble. I... I could hear them screaming”. 

You gulp and slide down onto the couch, guided by the urge to touch him, “Hey. But you got them out safely, yeah? They’re okay, Shouto”. 

His eyes crinkle a bit, if only a trick of your own, and you take it as permission to reach over. One by one you unfurl each finger, massaging your thumbs into his palm to smooth away the crescent marks. 

“We got them out,” he amends quietly, taking a brief pause to find the right words. You spend it appreciating the nicks in his skin, scars and rough edges, proof of his tenacity.

Shouto closes his hand around your own, staring dolefully at the point where your bodies meet. You see it for what it is— a request for comfort — and your palms kiss as you realign your fingers, holding on tight. 

“You know what I think?” 

He hums, curiously peering up through his damp bangs. 

“Those kids? They won’t just remember the bad stuff,” you smile, as tender as you feel, “I think they’ll remember how at ease they felt when Hero Shouto opened the way with his ice to save them. And now they know a hero will always come”. 

The strain bleeds from his bones and his expression opens up in quiet wonderment. “Really?” he asks, his voice small, mouth finally curling. Your heart gives a squeeze. 

“Really,” you affirm, knocking your knees together. Shouto’s smile widens, chin tucking to hide it. “Are you hurt anywhere?” 

“No. Just bruised up,” he says. An idea clicks into place. 

“Good. I’ve got something we can do to make you feel better,” you scramble to your feet, weight shifting as Shouto’s stare lingers on your bare legs. It feels as though the moon is casting a spotlight, and you resist the urge to pull your shorts down. 

“What is it?” 

“Mug cake!” you exclaim happily, bringing your hands together. Adding an afterthought, “and a movie, too. One you haven’t seen yet”. 

Shouto tilts his head, amused, but stands with you all the same. You notice then that he's changed into a pair of sweatpants, cuffed at the ankles. The t-shirt he’s wearing has a Pinky logo branded across his chest in bubble font. 

“Mug cake?” he repeats. 

“Cake in a mug,” you ribbed, poking at him. You start toward the kitchen. “Come on, it’ll only take like five minutes, tops!” 

“Do we have cake ingredients?” he muses, following close behind. You flick on the recessed light over the stove and root through the cupboards, trying to ignore the natural warmth of his body beside yours. 

“We have everything,” you insist. “I would know. I do the shopping, remember?” 

Hovering unnecessarily close by, Shouto leans back against the counter and observes you with fondness as you list off the ingredients under your breath. It shouldn’t be so magnetising— you can feel something in your chest being drawn in, as though you were two unlike poles meant to come together. 

Meeting his gaze, you look away and try to tame your giddiness. “Quit staring and find me two big mugs”. 

You breathe a little easier when he does as you ask. Two large ceramic mugs are placed on the counter— a hideously priced vintage All Might mug gifted by Midoriya, another with cat ears on the rim and a tail curled into the handle. 

“Will these do?” he murmurs. You startle at the closeness of his voice, nearly dropping the teaspoon in your hand. 

“Yeah,” you clear your throat. “Yep. Thank you”.

He nods, satisfied. “Tell me what else to do”. 

You grab another teaspoon and hand it to him. The joy in his eyes gleams, so pleased at the opportunity to help. “First we need to put four teaspoons of flour and caster sugar in our mugs, then add two teaspoons of the cocoa powder. You follow?” 

Shouto mirrors each action, always glancing back to your movements to check he was doing so correctly. It is unbearably endearing. 

“Now we add an egg in each— one sec,” the fridge light bursts through the dimly lit kitchen, and you squint, grabbing two eggs from the tray. You give him an egg. “Now crack it into the mug and stir”. 

You’ve ended up with the All Might mug. Using it is nerve wracking; all you can think of is how expensive it was, but the cat mug is Shouto’s clear favourite. Gently, you tap the egg on the counter. A hairline fracture forms on the shell. You push your thumbs in, prying it apart over the mix, letting the whites drizzle. 

Shouto is… faring well enough. There’s clear viscous liquid all over his fingers, and his shell is broken in three, but the yolk made it in. 

You laugh quietly at his sheepish expression as you pass him some tissue. He wipes his hands, leaning to observe while you add three teaspoons of milk and vegetable oil. “Where did you learn to make these?” 

“During my apprenticeship,” you admit. Graduation hadn’t led to immediate incredible offers like it had for Shouto. You needed to get your foot in the door first, which meant working awful hours with shit pay and little recognition. “I was trying to save up back then, so I ate a lot of crap like this”. 

“I’ve never tried it,” he says, repeating the steps as you had shown him. Your fingers brush with a pass of the milk. “I wasn’t allowed treats as a child so I guess I didn’t develop much of a sweet tooth”. 

“That’s just like you,” you grin, tearing open the bag of chocolate chips and shaking them in his direction. “Always gotta drop depressing lore in the middle of a nice moment”. 

The truth about the Todoroki family had been outed during your first year, right before the war. It’s a subject Shouto can joke about now that time has mostly healed over those wounds. Granted, his relationship with his father was cautious at best, and his older brother was locked away in a private facility for a good few decades, but things were better. 

“Did you hear me?”

You blink, startled out of your reverie, “What?”

“I said I have plenty more material but you zoned out,” Shouto raised a brow, dipping into the bag of chocolate chips and sprinkling them over his cake mix, “Where did you go?”

“Ah…” you take his mug and set it beside yours inside the microwave, turning the dial to the two minute mark. “I was just thinking I kinda want to kick your dad’s ass”. 

Your heart leaps. You will never be sick of Shouto’s laugh; it’s like hearing his soul. The sound is rich and warm over the loud hum, glass plate turning, mixture bubbling. 

“Don’t worry about that,” the laughter tapers off into an affectionate murmur, body naturally leaning into you, “he’s been kicking himself for years now”. 

“Good—!” the microwave pings, and your soul jumps out of your skin. “Jesus. Why is it always so much louder at night?” 

The mugs are still hot. You press a kiss to your stinging fingertips and step aside; Shouto takes each cake out one at a time with this left hand wrapped around the mug. “Show off,” you pout. 

A sweet aroma fills your senses. They’ve risen well. You lightly scratch the top with your spoon, pleased by the firmness. “We did pretty good,” you chirped. 

“Smells good,” Shouto notes, cradling his mugcake to his chest as though something precious. “Are we watching a movie?”

“Yeah. Let’s pick while it’s still hot”. 

You cast a fleeting look at the counter before you walk around the kitchen island, putting the minor mess to the back of your mind. Bouncing back onto the couch, you run your free hand down the cushions in search of the remote. 

“Where’s the—” Shouto sits to your right and passes it to you. “Did you pull that out of thin air?” 

“Yes. I have a third quirk called ‘remembering where I put things’,” he grins, dodging the half hearted swat you send his way.  

“You’re a real comedian. Just for that I’m picking what I want to watch”. 

Infuriatingly, Shouto looks happy about that, “You know what I’d like anyway”. 

In the end you choose Ponyo because he had not yet watched it— a fact you deemed criminal. You watch his expressions soften at the vibrant scenery, idly pushing the tip of his spoon into the cake. He scoops out a piece and brings it to his lips. 

You try not to beam when he visibly freezes, eyes widening with his spoon held in his mouth. Slowly, Shouto starts to chew. He makes a happy little hum. Three words crossed your mind, travelled down to your heart and diffused throughout your body. You feel them restless in the tips of your fingers. You don’t say them. 

Only then do you let yourself eat yours. The spoon sinks into the sponge, a faint waft of heat bursting from the centre where the chocolate chips have melted. It’s just the right side of fluffy. 

Comfortable silence hung over your heads, masked under the clinking of your spoons against the mugs. 

After the soft thud of an empty mug meeting the table, breaking through the quiet, Shouto speaks. 

“Bakugo mentioned you today,” he says. “Asked me to pass on a message”. 

You hum to indicate that you’re listening. “He said ‘hurry the fuck up or kiss my sponsorship goodbye’, verbatim”. 

“I’m not sure I like those words coming out of your mouth,” you laugh, shoulders shaking with it. Shouto tips his head back, lips twisted to hold laughter of his own. “What a bullshitter”. 

Bakugo liked working with you too much to pull out. Even if he didn’t, the man was a hard nut to crack and refused to trust anyone else with his gear. 

“Are you almost done? Working on his gauntlets, I mean”. 

“They’re finished,” you responded, cheek resting on the heel of your hand. Shouto repositions his hips, turning his body to face you in your periphery while you watch Sousuke and Ponyo eat ramen. “Good and ready for the summer. Now he won’t level half the city when he sneezes”. 

“Thank you for your hard work,” comes his mirthful reply. “Oh, and Uraraka says hello. She wants you to go to the get together tomorrow night”. 

“You know I haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about, right?” 

He huffed a laugh through his nose. A soft sound that has satisfaction singing through your veins. “I wasn’t planning on going so I forgot to mention it”. 

You run your tongue along your molars. There’s still a lingering chocolate taste. “You aren’t going to go?” you ask, tone trended downwards, plainly implying your disappointment. It wouldn’t be so odd. While you’d befriended Momo and some of class B before ever meeting Shouto, you’re not sure you want to be there without him. 

“I will go if you do,” he eyes the way your shoulders relax at that, attentive to a fault. “They can pick on you instead of me”. 

You roll your eyes with exasperated affection and arms crossed over your middle. “Tomorrow?” mhm. “Is it at that place Denki likes?” mhm. “Thought it might be. Guess I can be your buffer for a few hours”. 

“I’ll let them know,” Shouto murmurs. Colour dances across his skin, shadows moving with the picture on the screen. Ponyo dunks her head into the depths alongside Sosuke and the room is suddenly awash with vibrant blue, and you witness an unwelcome epiphany cross his mind. 

Stated like a huffy accusation, he says, “You know, you’ve worked on most of my friends gear, but never mine”. 

“You never asked,” you reminded him. “And you had connections in my industry already because of your… Endeavor. But I would’a jumped at the chance to get rid of that first costume you designed”. 

Cheek pressed to the cushion, he smiles. “What, was the glacier too much?” 

“It was so ugly Shouto,” you bemoan, leaning closer with your dramatic outburst. “The worst part was it covered up half of your pretty face. Now that’s just bad for branding”.

A soft intake of breath. Shouto’s lips part and you are caught in his awestruck stare. His voice deepens as he asks, “You think I’m… pretty?” 

You swallow and muster up an easy grin, nudging his thigh with your foot. “Everyone thinks you’re pretty, you goof”. 

His eyes lower, pensive for a moment, and then flicker back to the movie. Ponyo is sleepy, and the boat has shrunk, and Sousuke has big tears rolling down his cheeks. 

You can’t help thinking it was the wrong thing to say. 

Eventually the noise settles into static; the kind that makes the shadows seem a little darker, dense branches spreading across the ceilings and walls into a daunting canopy. You burrow into your hoodie, pulling the collar up over the bridge of your nose as Sosuke and Ponyo are reunited with his mother in a vast underwater paradise. 

The earlier exchange weighs on you. Stealing a quick glance at Shouto, you feel your anxiety chip at the expression on his face. Somewhere there, beneath the scar tissue and laughter lines and eye bags, is a small boy watching in awe. 

Neither of you speak until the film comes to an end. Your head bobs along to the final song, drawn into a bubble of nostalgia. Through the thick of it, you hear a whisper. Shouto says your name and there’s barely any strength behind it, uncharacteristically timid. Blinking away the haze, your eyes adjust. You can see an inviting, wide open embrace, his left arm now outstretched, the intention clear. 

Shouto looks right back. Your vision has sharpened enough to make out the small smile on his face. You crawl across the couch cushions and curl under his arm, turning your cheek to watch the credits play out.  

“You looked cold,” he belatedly adds. “Is this ok?”

You hum in agreement. Compared to his body heat, you’d say it had been freezing. Despite all the hard earned muscle over the years Shouto is pliable when he’s relaxed, doughy, and he yields when you begin to adjust your shared position. 

Swallowed by warmth, you guide his arm down to cinch around your waist and nestle against his chest. You can feel his heart beating like a wing beneath your palm. 

“Better?” he murmurs, breath tickling your ear. A final shiver dances the length of your spine as the faint tremors dwindle and your bones thaw. Fatigue creeps up, making your eyelids heavy. 

Quietly, “Better”. Then you mumble, “And I do think you’re pretty, Shouto”. 

“Hm?”

“Was bein’ a bit of a coward earlier,” you continue, a sleepy drawl to your words. A yawn pulls at your jaw, nose flaring with it. You think you could sink right into him, like a hot bath. “Shouto’s pretty… all… all the time…”

Your weary eyes gave in to the rhythmic stroke of his hand, consciousness drifting away. Soft dreams undulate, drawing you in, pushing you out. There’s a familiar face. They turn into your palms when you cradle them. Your stomach clenches at the sudden weightlessness and you grasp at their shirt, worried you might float away. 

When you wake up you are in your own bed again. It returns to you in fragments— Shouto’s arms around you, his rumbling laugh, the tangible intimacy that had hung over your heads. Realising he must have carried you to bed you turn over to groan into your pillow. 

Eventually, what draws you out into the open is the smell. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you pad out into the living room, searching for Shouto. Leggings, your mind whispers. He’s milling about the kitchen in his workout clothes; a little pair of shorts overtop and a green hoodie. 

“Morning,” he says, placing a small plate onto a tray. You notice two bowls have already been prepared. “I made breakfast”. 

The greeting dies in your throat when he looks up. A stream of dewy morning light illuminates the room, reflecting on the pale surfaces, creating an ethereal view. He combs his hair back with his fingers, tucking the longer strands behind his ears. Your gaze strays from the bruise on his jaw— now turning a sickly shade of green— to the food on his tray. 

“Wow,” you mumble, feeling hunger twist in your stomach. “This actually looks edible. What’s the occasion?” 

It’s a traditional breakfast. A bowl of rice, miso soup with some vegetables, a rolled egg and a plate of grilled fish. Shouto sets a pair of chopsticks down. “No special occasion. I just wanted to cook for you”. 

“God. You are so…” you wave your hands at him, too overwhelmed by the sudden flush of tenderness. 

He blinks, a twinkle of mirth in his eyes. “You just gestured to all of me”. 

“I just woke up and there’s a prince using my shitty old rice cooker. Forgive me,” you remarked groggily. It feels as if your entire being is a soft spot that he won’t stop prodding at. 

Gathering the tray in your grasp you avoid his stare and make way to the dining table, his quiet chuckle close behind. You sit, unnerved by his presence and fighting off dregs of sleep. The seat is cold under your thighs. “Thank you for the food,” you murmur. 

Chopsticks tucked in the crook of your thumb and finger, you pick up a rolled omelette. The egg tastes sweeter than expected— mixed with more sugar than required, you think, but it’s good, and you finish in the next bite. 

“Are you not leaving for work?”

Shouto hovers across from you; his hands rested on the back of another chair, and stood silently. “How is it?” he deflects. 

Your teeth sink into a tofu cube, umami flavours bursting on your tongue. You hum your approval, making a show of it. “It’s delicious. Thank you, Shouto. Really”. 

Over the years you’ve come to learn that Shouto reacts to praise in subtle ways, and often smiles without his mouth. You can hear it in the lilt of his voice and see it in his spirited stride. You watch as his shoulders straighten. He’s alight, peacocking his pride, and you’re not sure he realises it. 

“There’s a secret ingredient”. 

You pause mid chew, swallowing thickly. “If you say love I’m moving out”. 

Shouto tempers his amusement with a shake of his head. Stray hair falls forward to frame his cheeks.  The chair reclines back on two legs as he leans. “My mother told me that making a meal for someone is a simple way to show gratitude,” he continued. “Thank you for taking care of me last night”. 

Heat simmers under your skin, all buzzing energy and jitters. The sincerity is disarming. Had this been a dream you would’ve kissed him. 

Shoving another tofu cube in your mouth you chew it down to fine paste, vying for time to formulate a coherent sentence. “Don’t thank me for that,” your initial playfulness softened to reciprocate some of his vulnerability. “I know I’m not a hero but I’ll always be there for you in whatever way I can”. 

Whatever his response is, you don’t hear it. Shouto murmurs inaudibly, eyes falling closed with a long exhale. Your only respite is the warmth in his gaze when he looks back at you. “I need to leave now if I don’t want to be late. But I’ll see you tonight?”

You hum an affirmative, nodding around the white rice pinched between your chopsticks. It falls apart gently on your tongue. Covering your mouth, you say, “I’ll be there”.  

Shouto steps away with some finality, readjusting the hem of his shirt. The fabric hangs loose around his hips, emphasising how tight his shorts are. You mentally kick yourself. 

“I’ll text you, then”. 

The day passes frustratingly slowly after Shouto leaves. You technically could be sifting through the new student’s designs, but all you can think about is how charged the atmosphere had been this morning. Retiring back to your room to scream into a pillow or two, you eventually find yourself getting ready. 

Shouto let you know he would be going straight from the agency. He had clothes in a locker here— casual, some jeans and a sweater, which at least allayed the fear of being underdressed.  

You pull on one of your nicer jackets, holding the lapels close to your chest as you step out into the cold evening. Dark cumuli gather in sparse clumps across the darkening sky; as mercy has it, the wind is pushing them in the opposite direction.

The place isn’t far. You don’t frequent it very often but liked it well enough despite management being a bunch of rich guys playing dive-bar dress up. The low ceilings, vintage mismatched furniture and dim red lights created an intimate atmosphere. 

People loved the idea of finding a hole in the wall that nobody else knew about. The catch was everybody knows, but not everybody can get in. 

Flashing above the door in green neon lights is a sign grimly reading ‘The Love Shack’. The first thing you notice is the strong woodsy smell masking the faint scent of alcohol. There’s a floral tinge to it that you have trouble pinpointing. 

You head inside and greet the bouncer standing by the entrance. He’s a big guy, standing around 6 feet 9, mutton chops swallowing a great deal of his face. Resting on his bald crown are a pair of comically small sunglasses. 

Before he can ask for your name it is being hollered across the bar. A few heads turn and you dip your chin to shield from prying eyes. Uraraka is bounding over, Mina hot on her coattails. The pair topple into you with canorous laughter clear over the music. 

“You’re here!” Uraraka effused, grabbing at your shoulders and shaking them. “I haven’t seen you in so long! Shouto has been keeping you all to himself”. 

Mina slumps against you, echoing Ursraka’s words with a slurred whine. “Holy shit. Are you guys already tipsy?” unsteady on your feet you try to keep them upright. 

“No,” Mina tittered, pink lips jutting into a pout. She pokes at your cheek. “You’re just too sober!”

You startle. Another hand, large and hot, splays at the small of your back. The bouncer grunts and encourages you in the direction which they came from. That appears to spur the girls on— you’re dragged to the far end of the bar, a wide booth nestled just around the corner, hidden from view. 

You’re met with a chorus of cheers. Kirishima, Jirou and Shinsou beckon you forward. Bakugo is nursing a pint, offering you a wordless nod. Momo shakes her head as Denki attempts to climb out and greet you despite being trapped by the table, patting his back when the effort is fruitless. 

“Alright, alright. I missed you too,” you grin, helplessly charmed by your friend's excitement. Uraraka ushers you into the booth. You scoot up beside Momo, the group packed in like sardines to make room. 

Mina bends to press a wet kiss to your hairline. It leaves behind a sticky impression of her lips. “Let me go grab you a drink, babe!” she chirps, skipping off toward the bar and immediately draping her upper body over the black countertop to wave the bartender over. 

The conversations resume, an easy atmosphere settling over your group. Though you aren’t entirely from their world they do well to involve you, asking for your thoughts, trying to make you laugh. Jirou blushes under the red lights when you bring up her latest album, sending you an appreciative grin. Mina returns holding an impressive amount of drinks, her fingers slipping dangerously on the condensation. 

You are one strawberry daiquiri in. There’s a muted yet pleasant buzz under your skin, no doubt aided by the good company. Still, you cast an anxious glance around the room, curious about Shouto’s absence. A soft tap to the knee draws your attention. 

Momo turns to whisper in your ear, “Shouto said  he’ll be here on the hour,” answering that unspoken question. Your cheeks fill with an indignant breath, embarrassed by your own transparency. 

“We aren’t attached at the hip, you know,” you rasp childishly. It’s a lie— you’ve lived with Shouto for only three weeks and you have already forgotten where he ends and you begin. Momo laughs, hiding it behind the back of her hand. 

“Could’a had me fooled,” Bakugo interjects, scoffing behind his drink. The glass tips and he drains the last of it. “Your name is all I hear outta his mouth these days. Starting to think he doesn’t know any other words”. 

You hold up an accusing finger, “Quit reading our lips, dickhead”. 

The other bares his teeth, gums and all. He moves his hands in recognisable patterns at a deliberately slow pace, as if talking down to you. ‘Fuck you’ he signs. 

“Oh!” Kirishima claps abruptly. You startle, almost knocking over your drink. He’s so big that it rocked the table. “Check this, Bakugo. I’ve been learning more signs, you gotta tell me if I’m doing ‘em right!”

“Fuck do I look like to you?”

“Like my handsome best bro,” is his smooth reply. Cheeks red as his hair, a cocksure grin flashing his sharp teeth; Bakugo softens, clicking his tongue in feigned annoyance, betrayed by the twitch by the corner of his mouth. You think Kirishima is like an overgrown stray that manipulated Bakugo into being his human. 

Whatever he clumsily signs must have been obscene, because Bakugo roars with laughter.

“Who the hell taught you that, shitty hair?” 

The hour comes and goes. Rings of water collect under the glasses. Shouto is five minutes late. You displace the group, accepting Uraraka’s loose lipped complaints as she is forced to scoot back out the booth. Pinching the fat of her pink cheek, she’s placated by the promise of another round on you. 

“I’ll come with,” Shinsou offered with a lazy wave. 

“Thanks,” waiting for him to get to his feet, you smile. You liked Shinsou well enough. Working as an underground hero meant you didn’t get to see him too often. 

You approach the bar. The man working behind it has gossamer insectoid wings on his back, sprouting from two long slits in his fitted shirt. They glint in the light, colours refracting iridescent, reminding you somewhat of a church window. 

He comes over as he catches your eye, wiping down the sticky surface. You’re honest enough to admit he’s handsome. Rugged with a baby face, hair falling over his forehead in loose curls. There’s an easy air about him, and when he flashes a crooked grin you feel the alcohol a little too thick in your veins. 

Tattooed forearms brace against the bar and he leans into your magnetism, “What can I get ya?”

“They’ll have the same as last time,” you reply. “I think the tab should be under Kaminari’s name?” 

He nods, eyes skimming over your form, “Won’t be long”. 

You turn to find that Shinsou is staring, kissed by a reddish glow. His mouth downturns into a smirk. “I don’t think he even noticed I was here,” he drawls. 

Defensiveness prickles over you. “Don’t think anyone has,” you lightly knock your arms together. “You’ve been quiet tonight”. 

“Not my scene,” Shinsou sinks forward, propped up by his elbow, and rests his chin in the cradle of his hand. His heavy lidded eyes never stray. “But I can’t say no to free drinks”.

The barman works the taps in your periphery but you remain focused on Shinsou. There’s a new scar across his cheekbone, right where his persona mask ends. Another over his mouth, a thin line of rough tissue that cuts through his five o’clock shadow. The mass untameable hair on his head has been cut shorter, tapering around his neck. 

“Leech”. 

“Look who’s talking,” his smirk widens. You watch his gaze slide over your head and dread swirls in your stomach at the gleam in his eye. “I think your nepo baby boyfriend just got here”. 

“Not my boyfriend,” you hiss under your breath. He holds his laughter between his teeth. “And don’t call him that!” 

Shinsou laughs into his palm, low and rumbling. You hear the fond invocation of your name as the heat of another body appears at your back. Met with brilliant teal and stormy grey, Shouto greets you both apologetically. 

Perking up self consciously, you say, “You made it!”

“Hi. Sorry, I got caught up and lost track of time”. 

You’re happy to see him. He’s in fitted jeans and a dark button up shirt over an old black turtleneck. Heterochromatic eyes slide from your smiling face to Shinsou’s own disinterest, then drawn to the drinks that have steadily begun to accumulate on the bar counter. 

“Ah, let me get you a drink—” you wave over the guy who served you, though it is hardly necessary when he’s already observing. He saunters over with a pint of lager, setting it beside Mina’s garish rainbow concoction. 

“Everything alright?” 

Squinting at the messy kanji on his name tag, you think you can make it out. Kei, it reads. “Would we be able to add another to the tab? Our friend just made it”. 

For some reason Shouto crowds in closer, the cool press of his left side seeping through your shirt. Kei barely pays him any mind. “No problem,” a cold flush crawls across your back when he winks. “Anything for you. What’ll it be?” 

“I’ll have a highball,” Shouto interjects. You frown at his sudden sharp demeanour, and lean your weight back in hopes of comforting him. The air warms up. 

Kei’s enthusiasm fractures imperceptibly, “Alright. Let me get started on that for ya”. Shinsou snorted, his head dipped to his chest and shaking; you think you aren’t nearly drunk enough for whatever this is.

“Shit. You really are petty,” Shinsou speaks up after Kei departs to the other end of the bar. “I always thought Midoriya was exaggerating”. 

“Petty?” you echo, squinting at your roommate with a soft pout. Shouto fixes his gaze to the bottles lined across the wall and looks as though he wants the earth to swallow him whole. 

“Highballs are tedious to make,” Shinsou turns his back to the bar, leaning against it with his drink in hand. “You definitely chose that on purpose”. 

“I didn’t,” Shouto monotoned. “I like whisky”. 

“I’ve never seen you drink whisky,” your voice lilts into suspicion. Shouto narrows his eyes, pointedly avoiding yours. A terse beat passes, and you inhale with defeat. “Oh, whatever. Go say hi to the others while we bring the drinks”. 

Shouto blanched. “I can help—”

“I’ve already got a big strong man here to help me,” Shinsou scoffed. There’s an umbrella resting on the lip and a purple straw in his mouth. You put a hand on Shouto’s bicep and squeeze, “You need to let Momo know you’re here before she sends out a search party”. 

The contact visibly placates him. You watch after him as he makes his way to the booth. Slurred over the low music, he turns the short corner to be met with a cheer in much the same way you had. 

“You two are ridiculous,” Shinsou murmurs, amused exasperation clear in his tone. Splitting the drinks into two groups to carry, you ignore his remark and the fondness swirling in your chest. 

Kei appears and sets the highball down. A tall glass of liquid gold, three carved ice cubes fizzing at the bottom, a lemon garnish on the rim. “Thank you,” you tell him, pleased when he reciprocates your sheepish grin. 

You let Shinsou take it— your hands are already full and slipping. The others have pulled Shouto into the booth and sandwiched him between Denki and Mina, whose distinct voices are overlapping as they try to get a word in. 

Denki stops mid sentence as Shinsou slams the drinks onto the table. You do the same, albeit much more carefully. He lists them off one by one, sliding the glasses over to their persons. Shouto’s comes last. 

“And in a surprising turn of events we have Todoroki with a japanese highball”. 

Shouto accepts the drink with his right hand and a straight face, ignoring the harmonious ‘ooh’ that reverberates around the booth. 

Bakugo points his pinky at him, “And since when do you drink whisky?” 

Petulantly, Shouto mutters, “Since now”. 

Ultimately deciding to pull up a chair, Shinsou sits at the head of the table while you are squeezed on the end beside Bakugo; he side glances, raising his brow in acknowledgement. 

“Dude, now that we’re all here, let's have a toast!” Denki exclaims, literal sparks of joy bouncing from his crown. Everybody groans. 

“I’ll hear your toast bro,” Kirishima lifts his pint, the wonderful enabler that he is. Shouto meets your gaze across the table and raises his own with a shrug. 

“I, uh…” Denki shrinks under the pressure. “I dunno what I was gonna say”. 

“To a quick death,” Shinsou proposed, halfheartedly holding his sake in the air. 

“Hear hear,” muttered from beside you, Bakugo’s eyes fell closed. You snickered, alcohol weakening your inhibitions as you hook your chin over his shoulder. He allows it. 

Momo voices her disapproval and tips her glass, “To good health”. 

“To Chargebolt,” Jirou adds, a grin splitting her cheeks, laughter already bleeding into her words. “Seen him at his best, seen him at his worst, and still can’t tell the difference”. 

“Oi!” 

“To a livable minimum wage!” Uraraka hiccups. All the blood in her body seems to have rushed to her face; expression comically determined, betrayed by her spasming diaphragm. Everyone lifts a glass. 

The night crawls on. Another round, then two. Kei refills your glass, never without a flirty comment. You feel thawed from the inside out, a silly smile fixed to your lips. Your cheeks hurt from laughing, from the too-forceful kisses given by Mina, the rough pinch of explosive fingers. 

You might as well be engaged in a game of musical chairs; the only one refusing to surrender his spot is Bakugo. Jirou and Momo slink away somewhere private— ‘private’ being behind the vintage jukebox right by the bathrooms— and Kirishima scoots over to wrap you up in a side hug and pushes all the air from your lungs. Uraraka drapes herself across your front. Shinsou surrenders as Mina sits in his lap. Being with them is as innate as breathing. 

Maybe you didn’t fight a war together but they still embraced you as their own. And Shouto watches with that terrible, awful, shoujo twinkle in his eyes; you flush hot whenever you catch him, inundated by the desire to reach across and kiss him.

Your pulse is quick and movements slowed. A pleasant buzz circulates around your body. After the third round Shouto begins insisting that you stay put. “Okay,” you conceded tipsily. “Tell Kei I said hi”. 

Shouto leaves with a vaguely constipated frown. 

Bakugo cackles and refuses to tell you what was so funny. Momo returns to the sight of you clinging to the stubborn hero’s arm, cursing his name. “What are we laughing at?” she muses. You notice a few things first: there’s a fresh bruise on her neck, a button on her dress undone, and a glass of water in her grasp. 

Disheveled Momo is a rare treat. You’d tease her about it, if Bakugo did not immediately jump at the opportunity to tease you first. “Just gearhead and halfie being oblivious idiots,” he surmised. Another snort bursts from his nose. “‘Tell Kei I said hi’. Shit. Should’a seen his face”. 

“Bakugo,” Momo chides, attempting to disguise her own amusement. “Go easy on them”. 

He clicks his tongue, shaking you with a rough shrug of his shoulder. “You should tell him how you feel and fuck already”. 

Your mood tumbles, dampening as you sulk, “Shouto doesn’t want me like that”. 

“Yeah, right. And vice prez didn’t just get fingered by the jukebox”. 

“Bakugo!” Momo’s voice is stronger this time. She whips her head toward the other patrons and back, embarrassment flooding her cheeks. “I did not get… fingered,” she protested with a sharp whisper. 

“What’s that?” you feign ignorance, drowsy and loose lipped. “Momo got fingered?!”

Making Bakugo laugh feels a little like winning the lottery; having him throw an arm around you as he does it leaves you dizzy with accomplishment. You curl into his side, shoulders shaking. You mouth an apology across the booth and Momo stretches to take your hand, stressing her forgiveness. 

Shouto shatters the jovial atmosphere. He returns stiffly, his glare set in stone, and places a drink you did not order in front of you. After a quick sniff you realise that it’s water. 

“Once you’ve drunk that we should head home,” he says. It’s posed as a suggestion but you hear the instruction. Not wanting to irritate him any further, you begin to sip. 

Momo’s brow pinches with worry. “Is everything alright, Shouto?” 

He breathes harshly through his nose, coming out in a puff of cold air. ”Yes, everything’s fine. I’m sorry to cut the night short, Momo,” his face softens. “It was good to see you”. 

Astonishingly, Bakugo says nothing. His arm snakes from around your back. You finish the water with a big gulp, resurfacing for air. “Done,” you wipe the back of your hand across your lips. 

Shouto steadies you while you awkwardly scoot around the booth. Momo gathers you both into a hug, her kind hand stroking the length of your spine. “Text us when you get home”. 

“We will,” you promise, saluting as you’re gently pulled away. “See ya on Monday, great explosion murder god dynamite, sir!” 

The others have dispersed amongst the small crowd. You mourn not being able to say goodbye to them all. Shouto cinches around your waist and guides you to the door. You can’t complain— instinctively sinking into the embrace, surrounded by his cologne— but you do wonder what the hurry is. 

You waded through the mass of people until you both finally made your way out into the open air. The breeze encourages you closer to his front, cold and refreshing in your lungs. Already you feel as if some of your drunken enthusiasm is dissolving. 

“Shouto?” his pace slows mercifully, coming to a stop underneath a streetlight. The bulb blinks in five second intervals, dousing him in sickly orange. “Are you mad?” 

A warm hand hooks your chin, forcing you to look him in the eye only to avoid looking back. His lips part to speak, and when nothing comes they close. “I’m not mad,” he intoned quietly, thumb skimming over the line of your jaw. Your breath catches. 

He seems so… guilty. 

“I think you are,” you observe, wrapping your fingers around his wrist. You bring his hand down and intertwine it with yours. The alcohol must be making you brave. “But if you’re not ready you don’t need to tell me”. 

Some colour returns to his skin. Shouto huffs a disbelieving laugh. “You’re so—” cutting off that train of thought, he tugs you forward and wraps you into a hug. The crook of his neck shields you from the cold, and for a few short moments all you can hear is your heart beating in your ears. 

“…Have you ever felt like there are things you want to say but there’s something that always stops you from expressing them?” 

You take note of how his grip tightens, warm nose squished into your cheek as if he thought you might run. Shouto is nervous— rather, he’s making himself vulnerable to you. “I have,” you murmur. 

He bows his head to burrow into your shoulder, “Then, would you give me the chance to say them?” 

What you hear is: will you be patient with me? 

“Now?” you ask gently. The light overhead flickers again and your vision swims. You’re realising now that his impulsivity might simply be because he’s drunk. “Don’t you want to talk at home?”

Shouto shakes his head. “If I say it now you can change your mind and go back”. 

That’s worrying. You chew nervously on your bottom lip, “…Okay”. 

You expect him to let go but he doesn’t, though he does loosen his hold, as if giving you the chance to leave. Following a deep inhale, Shouto solemnly admits, “That guy at the bar. Kei. He asked me to give you his phone number”.  

“He did?” 

“Yes,” he says. 

“So where is it?” 

Dread and fatigue curdled in your stomach. You hear the moment Shouto swallows his caution. The atmosphere sours as he admits, “I burned it”. 

You step back, leaving his arms limp at his sides. He looks betrayed. Like you’re testing the strength of a promise you don’t recall making. This was not a good time nor place to talk about this. 

“My feet hurt,” his eyes widened in confusion. “I’m cold and I’m drunk and my feet hurt, Shouto. I want to go home”. 

The request registers slowly. You watch his face fall, gathering a facsimile of a smile. “Okay. Then let’s go home”. 

Your chest aches. You want to cry. You scramble for his hand and squeeze it tight, hating the despondent tone in his voice. “We’re too drunk. We’ll talk about this in the morning,” and that seems to lessen the rigidity in his bones. 

From then on, the walk is done in heavy silence. Your thoughts are muddied and loud, emotions bouncing back and forth between resentment and uncertainty. 

Underneath all of it is a seedling of hope that you daren’t nurture. 

The atmosphere clings, following you all the way home, suffocating as you stand a metre apart in front of your respective bedrooms. You bid him goodnight, hand lingering on the handle. Anticipation sits like a stone in your chest. 

You lie in bed waiting for him to knock. 

He doesn’t. 

Next time you open your eyes you wince at the throb behind them; it pings around the inside of your skull and you groan into your pillow. 

There’s movement in the apartment. Shouto had always been an early riser. Cold relief washes over you at the confirmation that he was here. Last night filters through your mind. One scene after another you try to make sense of it all. 

Kei had been genuinely flirting— you didn’t really think to take it seriously at the time. It was harmless fun, and you figured he was just the type that enjoyed teasing. 

Shouto must’ve realised it early on. That was the reason he stepped in and kept you away from the bar. But that didn’t line up right with the reality you knew, because the only reasonable explanation for his behaviour would be that— 

You shoot upright, kicking off your covers, and immediately feel it rebound. Thumbs pressed to your temples, you massage firm circles into your skin until the pain dulled. 

Holy shit. Shouto was jealous. 

A strange blanket of exhaustion settles back over you, as though your muscles have atrophied. You slide down the headboard and stare up at the marks on the ceiling, all sprawled out like dropped skeins of yarn. Suddenly your bedroom was a refuge from an inevitable relationship altering conversation. 

Shouto had been jealous of a man vying for your affection. Your Shouto: gentle, placid, considerate, patient, funny, beautiful Shouto. 

“Fuck,” you whisper into the emptiness. You can hear the coffee machine brewing in the distance. You’re torn between screaming into your hands and jumping on the bed. 

You settle on getting up. Slowly. It’s clear you had been drunker than you thought; your pyjamas are on back to front. You tremble as you slip your arms through the sleeves and right the collar, padding over to the door. 

Shouto wanted to talk last night and you stopped him. Guilt gnaws away at you. All that courage was shot down. Pretending to forget about it isn’t an option— you had to do this. 

The plan to be stealthy is squandered by the hinge on your door. A harsh squeak reverberates through the apartment. You huff, lowering from your tip toes, and walk towards the kitchen. 

Another body enters the hallway. Shouto turns on his heel and nearly drops his mug as you almost collide. Reflexes hammered into him, he catches it in one hand and manoeuvres you away from the hot splash with the other. 

“Shit. Did it burn you?” he breathes, bringing your hand up to his mouth. A chilly puff of air blows over your skin and you shiver. 

You clear your throat and try to find your voice. “I think you got it. Thank you, Shouto”. 

The sound of his name pulls him out of his reverie. You try not to feel hurt when he drops your hand like hot coal. “Sorry,” casting a forlorn look at the half empty mug and the small coffee puddle at his feet. Lips pressed into a thin line, he says, “I was bringing you some coffee. Thought you might need it”. 

Delicate tendrils of steam dance and dissipate into the air. You gently cup your hands around his and receive the mug, a small smile pulling at your mouth. His eyes are keen and searching as you take a drink. 

“I definitely needed it,” you tell him between sips. The coffee paves a hot path down your throat to your stomach— the warmth spreads, seeking to fill the spaces between. All the earlier fear is washed away.

The time you spend observing one another feels like a short eternity. You watch hope visibly thread into his features, brighter; the way he always should be. 

Softly, you ask, “Do you think we could talk about last night?”

“Yeah,” the word comes in a whisper. Head inclining, Shouto nods in one slow motion. Then, louder, “I should clean up, first. Where do you want to…?”

“Where?” you repeat. The thoughts in his head are written plainly across his forehead and you longed to rid him of them. Tilting and raising your brows suggestively, you tease, “Bedroom?” 

Shouto gives an amused huff and the remnants of caution are blown away like seeds in a dandelion clock. His steps are lighter, a subtle bounce to them. Light filters into the living room and your spirit is buoyed by giddiness and wonder. 

What had you been so afraid of? 

You wait in the crook of the L shaped couch, legs curled beneath your body, facing the tall standing windows that overlook the city. Your headache has lessened into a quiet echo. 

While he mops up the coffee you finish off the last drops in your cup. You take a moment to appreciate your surroundings. The emptiness you once felt in this room no longer exists. Blankets strewn across the cushions, small crochet coasters, pictures put into frames, books left face down to save the page, things out of place— it felt so lived in. 

It felt like home. 

You sit up when footfalls approach. Shouto is pretty in the late morning light, under eye shadows and all. “Did you even sleep last night?”

“Not much,” he confesses. His weight shifts before he finally decides on sitting beside you, turning to mirror your posture. “I thought I might’ve messed things up”. 

You stretch to put your mug on the coffee table and his eyes follow attentively. “Shouto, you didn’t mess anything up,” he wrings his hands together in his lap, searching your face for dishonesty and finding none. “Though you probably shouldn’t have burned up that guy's number”. 

“Probably,” he affirmed. The hair on his left side is pressed flat to his head. You count the creases on his cheek, stopping at the healing bruise on his jaw. The movement of his full mouth draws you back, “I am sorry for that. It was childish of me and I took away your choice”. 

You hum, shuffling closer on your knees. Shouto’s expression is beautifully open, and you understand it, because your heart beat is thrumming just the same. “Next time, give me the number so I can ask you to burn it myself”. 

Shouto’s fiddling halts. It’s a relief. You thought if he pulled at that hangnail any more he might unravel in front of you. A crease forms between his brows, “What?” 

“I don’t want anyone else’s number. I…” losing some of your strength, you close your eyes for a second. Inhale deeply, continuing on an exhale, “Last night, you were jealous”. 

It’s not a question. Shouto nods, his hand making an aborted reach for your own but thinking better of it. 

You slide your palm against his. Your fingers fill the spaces between his knuckles. Shouto holds on tight and you ask,  “…Why?” 

A nail traces random shapes into his skin. You watch him watching your finger, mouth curled into a small, wobbly smile. He steels his resolve, an internal monologue you aren’t privy to. With spine tingling cadence, he says, “Because I’m in love with you”. 

You’re not sure what you anticipated. There isn’t much that could prepare you for such a long awaited admission— for something you’d only daydreamed about hearing. The hunger in your heart rears its head, seeing his words as permission to want. To take. 

Shouto carries on, incognisant to your plight. “I made peace with my feelings a long time ago. It’s not something I wanted you to worry about”. 

“You’re doing it again,” you tell him. “Deciding things for me”. 

“I don’t want you to make peace with them. I want you to share them. With me,” Your eyes meet as he peers up. There’s a stray kiss curl by his temple, white and soaking up the sun. He shudders when you twist it gently around your finger. “I love you too, dummy”.  

Heat prickles at the back of your neck, feeling the shift in atmosphere. “Oh,” is his eloquent reply. A slow blooming grin pulls at his mouth as the reality sets in. 

“Yeah. Oh”. Giddiness bubbles in your chest like water in a wellspring and you let go to cup his face. Shouto leans into the cradle your hands form, eyes fluttering closed as your thumb skims over the scar tissue. His ears are warm. 

Guided by fleeting impulses you press a quick kiss to his left eyelid, and he sucks in a shaky breath. You move lower, nose bumping his cheek, to press another to the corner of his mouth. 

“Is this okay?” you whisper, feeling like you were on the delicate precipice of something incredible. His mouth turns to chase yours, bicoloured eyes peeking beneath his lashes. 

“Kiss me,” he murmurs, and it comes like a puff of steam. “On the mouth this time”. 

Your lips tremble as you try not to laugh, aligning with his. You kiss him, petal soft and gentle, and feel it when he smiles. Tentative, derived from uncertainty and unfamiliarity. 

Shouto’s cool fingers slide around the nape of your neck, holding you in place. Don’t go anywhere. You answer in kind— hands sliding down to his chest to guide him back into the cushions and feel his heart racing as you settle your knees either side of his hips. You barely part for air, and Shouto follows your lead. 

“Again,” he mumbles. 

The intensity grows. Shouto kisses like it’s his last. Strong arms wrap around your waist, wandering hands mapping out the topography of your body. Somewhere between, your tongue dips into the seam, biting his bottom lip and plucking a whine right from his mouth. Heat flutters low in your abdomen; hips squirm between your thighs, his chest pressed to your own. 

“Shouto,” you groan, pushing harder, needing to be closer, threading into the soft hair at the back of his head. Fingers curl into the fat by your hips, they pull, rocking you into his lap. Invigorated, Shouto nips at your lips. Arousal spikes through you at the cool exhale— his tongue slides over your own and along the grooves in your teeth, wet and cold. 

“Fuck, is that—” you pant, head falling back as he begins to leave a trail of hot kisses down your throat. “S’that your quirk?” 

He hums an affirmative. The sound is resonant, deep in his chest and satisfied. Smug. You feel the impression of his smile against your jugular. Static fills your brain. Your thighs clench, rutting forward to relieve the ache between your legs, imagining all the things his mouth could do. 

At some point you part to catch your breath. Your foreheads come together, sharing awed laughter. Shouto cheeks are pink and there’s a soft smile on his swollen, kiss-bitten lips.  His hand moves to cup your jaw, rubbing small circles into the cheekbone.

“We should… slow down…” his chest heaves, eyes swallowed by his pupils. They fall to his lap, right where you’re pressed to his cock. You file away the lazy slur in his voice and wonder if that’s where all his blood went. “…I want to do this properly”. 

Figures that he would have more willpower than you; though you get the sense if you pushed, he’d give, and every surface in the apartment would see you laid out. Gathering your thoughts is made much more difficult as he kneads at your thigh, heedless to your struggle. 

“Okay baby,” you murmur, leaning up to press a chaste kiss to his brow bone. His ears turn red and you’re alight, “You like that?” 

Shouto tucks his grin against your shoulder. Like before, he locks both arms around your back and holds you close. You comb your fingers through his hair, overlapping white and red, a long tender moment passing. 

“You love me,” he whispered apprehensively. Then again, thick with wonderment. “You love me”.  

It’s unbelievable to him— and that’s unbelievable to you. Shouto is easy to love, moreso than anyone you have ever met. All clandestine glances, soft spoken words and inside jokes; a book of every witty little thing you’ve said, keeping your words close, giving importance to the things you enjoy; he’s gag gifts and thoughtfulness and open arms, the reason all your hot drinks never go cold, he’s the cream that never melts. He’s home. 

You cradle him to your chest with no intention of letting go. The sun crawls higher, casting a warm blanket over your shoulders. 

“I do,” you reply. “How could I not?” 

[antlered-prince]

The ValRayne Faeu Masterpost

Decided to finally make a masterpost for @owl-bones and I's fae au! This will be updated when I remember and contains all the relevant info and designs you might want (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

You can find more under the #valrayne-faeu tag on both of our blogs. Feel free to also use this tag or tag either of us in anything you make!

Last updated: 2/7/2024

Designs

Finished Dream (full body soon) Blue (will get a slight revamp) Ink Nightmare Killer (will also get a small revamp) WIPs Horror Dust (wings) Cross Error (wings)

How tall is everyone?

World Building

Designing OCs/Self-Inserts - ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR Can a human become fae? And visa versa? What kind of insect wings are associated with each court? What determines which Court you end up in? Rejecting becoming fae What if a fae tears off their own wings? Trying to return to the mortal realm early after being trapped Primary rules of interacting with the fae How big are the fae? What does the fae realm look like? How do you get to the fae realm? What might the fae find intriguing enough to take someone to their realm? Is there something unpleasant about the fae realm? Why wouldn't people enter the fae realm willingly? What would happen if you trick and fae instead? If a fae steals a concept can you trade it back? Iron, rowan and four leaf clovers What if a mortal manages to escape? Can fae and humans have children? Changelings Can fae be killed in some way? Do the Courts overlap our world? How knowledgeable is the average mortal? How do fae feel about Integrity souls? What is the aspect of Integrity souls that fae share? Why do fae trick people? Do fae normally have so many names? Enemies/Predators of the fae? How is a fae born? How were Dream and Nightmare born? Who is the most dangerous? Where do Dream and Nightmare stand in regards to each other?

Character Specific Asks

Dream If you can't lie, why avoid eye-contact? (Art) How can we trust you if you could be lying? Some insight on Fae Dream If Dream finds humans so interesting, why does he change them? Bird MC Drabble (ft Dream & Nightmare) Bird MC Drabble - Does Dream feel remorse? Bird MC Drabble - Can we make him understand the culture difference? Bird MC Drabble - Is there anything we can say to change his mind? What would Dream do in exchange for affection? (Art) Why is affection a big deal? Anonymous Dream Drabble He's totally non-threatening guys (Art)

Blue Blue and his conflicting values and nature (Art) I'd let him trick me (Art) I want to hug him! (Art) Who did this to you? (Scar)

Ink I'd use him as a model for painting (Art) What can I get with..... (Art)

Nightmare What is Nightmare's goal? Does Nightmare have a favourite trick? What would happen if he met his match? What's the best deal Nightmare has made? (Art) I would die to get my hands on that book What flowers are in the book? Nightmare's favourite flower? What would he want in exchange for a kiss? (Art) If we stay, would he be willing to give us information instead? If I stay for the (eternal) evening, where would I stay? What happens if we fall asleep in his library? (notes on Dream's garden & library) Nightmare would move us? (Library) If I asked for a hug, would he give one? Can I pet his wings? What is Nightmare's favourite noise/sound? Nightmare's wings (Art)

Killer What's Killer's favourite trick?

Dust What is Dust like?

Multiple Characters Who stole the ability to lie? Who is the liar theory (Art) Who would appreciate mortals being hard to trick? Names that Dream and Nightmare have collected Any Papyrus-type fae? (OG AUs design ideas) Can I hug Dream and Nightmare? Dream and Nightmare - Someone who didn't want to leave (Abusive family) Which fae are most likely to accidentally in-debt themselves? Someone staring while they talk because their voice is pretty (Reactions)

Other helpful refs

Beetle wing origami

[mamirhodessxox]

Ultra violence (Introduction)

Dexter Morgan! x Fem!Oc (Piper Cora James)

(Nothing important from the show such as previous cases mentioned in the series won’t be used or mentioned within the FF so nobody feels like they’re missing out on anything but for those interested in the show it is called ‘Dexter’ & can be used on Netflix, be warned there are mentions of heavy topics like Murder & can even include gore-ish scenes so watch at your own risk.)

Desc: In the shadows of Miami's Bay Harbor, Dexter and Piper, two enigmatic souls, found solace in each other's darkness once but Divorced. Their connection, a dance of masks and secrets, unfolded in blood-soaked whispers, drawing themselves into a world where love is still thrived amidst the shadows of their shared secrets when the two become closer & rekindle their past and shared traditions.

Contents: Murder, Alcohol consumption, in depth detail on certain aspects of violence that is mentioned, Smut in later chapters, Knife Play, Bondage, toxic relationship, (original characters from the TV show will be mentions such as Vince Masuka, James Doakes, Debra Morgan, Angel Batista & María LaGuerta.)

🏷️ list: @alyyaanna @ginswife @coolpastelartshoe @greatkoalawizard @cokolin044 @kotoriarlert @alicerosejensen @bunnybot55 @mini-rollins @southerngirl41 @harmshake @femdisa @kabloswrld @claymoresofinfamy23 @bones-rhodes @cococodysleevlesshoodie @edtomh @ihatecodyrhodes @ihatecodyrhodes @ayeeitsali @lisatommo28

FF inspired Playlist as usual! (I would recommend to listening to the playlist while reading but too each their own <3):

{~I'm very serious with you guys interacting with my writing!!!! it would make me so happy & excited, the more comments & reposts the more inspiration i have to write :) likes and comments are strongly appreciated so please COMMENT COMMENT COMMENT COMMEENNTTT the more comments the more content <3!!!~}

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Piper Cora James - 27 years old (Forensic Investigator)

Christina James -41 Years old (Pipers Mother)

Pedro Ramirez -32 Years Old (Detective for Miami Metro Police)

Alexa García -29 Years Old (Bartender)

Dexter Morgan -36 Years Old (forensic blood spatter analyst)

Michael Patrovski -38 (Chief of Police)

Valeria Ortiz -45 Years Old (Lieutenant of Miami Metro Police)

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This series will be found in the “Dexter Morgan” Category within my Masterlist so be on the lookout or ask to be apart of the tag list so you can keep up for future posts / updates :)

PS. I have a discord server dedicated to many fanbases & FF writers so please feel free to join <3

[osunism]

Muse's Fanfic Masterpost

⚠️ Please read before following/interacting. ⚠️

A rebloggable version of this.

I reserve the right to set and maintain boundaries with my blog and my writing. As a rule, I block ageless/blank/minor-run blogs. This blog is run by a real adult and so I only want to interact with other actual adults because my content lends itself to being adult-oriented.

Every original female protagonist I write unless otherwise stated is a dark-skinned Black woman. Sometimes I will include art or a model for closest approximation, but for the most part I make this explicitly clear in the narration.

I usually only write OC/Canon ships. That is central to all of my writing. I know a lot of people are weirdly hostile about OCs being shipped with their favorite characters but I promise you it’s not and never will it ever be that serious. If you’re a dick to me about what I choose to write, at best the only attention you’ll get is a block.

That being said let’s just get this out of the way: I write characters who like to fuck. Sex is going to happen in my work so if that gives you the ick well…you’ve been warned.

I do not take requests. Writing is already very taxing for me given my health issues and schedule, and I want to focus on writing things that I personally enjoy, this includes prompts I choose to participate in.

For my roleplayers and those who like to ship one another’s OCs and do collaborative worldbuilding and headcanons: please ask me first before taking things from my personal sandbox. I’m very protective of my little corner and would rather do things like that with those whom I’ve established a close rapport.

Do not ask me about BioWare [Dragon Age and Mass Effect] content. Yes, my work is still available to read. But I no longer have any interest in creating content for that fandom, so don’t ask me about it.

My purpose and goal in my fanfiction is not to be strictly canon-compliant, and my interpretation of canon events and characters may and likely will differ from yours. Canon is not sacrosanct to me. If you find my work disagreeable because of this, feel free to go read something else suited to your tastes!

If you like my work, pleasepleaseplease share it. Liking my posts or giving kudos on AO3 doesn’t do much if you don’t share it for others to read. Comments are highly encouraged and appreciated as well. It’s always good to see feedback on how people interpret my work. It also helps me refine my writing in order to get my stories across more clearly.

Due to the frequent racist hostility and unpleasantness in other fandoms I inhabit, my comments on AO3 are moderated as a rule. Act like someone raised you right before you interact with me. This includes checking your racial biases at the door.

Below is a list of all my current works. Since I’m currently only active in the JJK fandom, those are the works that’ll be listed! Once other fandoms get active, this list will be sorted and updated!

⛩️ AO3 𑁍 FFN 𑁍 Parallax OCs 𑁍 Sonder OCs 𑁍 Headcanons & Meta ⛩️

Fic Status Key

[♡] - AO3 version.

[⭑] - Tumblr version.

[♤] - Fanfiction(dot)net version.

[🚩] - Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

[🔏] - Commissioned Fic

[∞] - In Progress

[☥] - Rewriting

[☯] - Complete

[📿] - Parallax

[🔮] - Sonder

[🪄] - Lost Worlds & Endless Nights

Relationship Key

🧿👹 - Satoru/Sundari

⛩️⚔️ - Sukuna/Nadja

🧿🧜🏾‍♀️ - Satoru/Asabé

⛓️👸🏾 - Toji/Akasha

⛓️👩🏿‍🦱 - Toji/blackfem!Reader

Relevant Tags

#muse writes

#fic rec

#jjk x oc

#jjk x black oc

#jjk fanfic

#jjk fanart

#fic: [ficname]

#series: [seriesname]

#ch: [charname]

#oc: [ocname]

#otp: [shipname]

noun [📿] par·​al·​lax ˈper-ə-ˌlaks ˈpa-rə- 1. the apparent displacement or the difference in apparent direction of an object as seen from two different points not on a straight line with the object. especially: the angular difference in direction of a celestial body as measured from two points on the earth's orbit.

Nadja Hikmat, an immortal warrior tasked by Heaven itself to hunt Ryōmen Sukuna, falls in love with the sorcerer instead. From that fateful meeting, a ripple of unforeseen changes echos across the sea of time.

Beast of No Nation [♡] [⭑] [♤] – One night, the King of Curses took an over-curious fugitive of heaven to task. Over the course that night, and the many that followed, she found herself continuously drawn to the jujutsu world. [☯] [📿] ⛩️⚔️ || 🧿👹

If [♡] [⭑] [♤] – One night, Satoru meets a woman with strange tattoos who sears a place on his mind and memory. Who is she? [☯] [📿] 🧿👹

Crystalline [⭑]– The night Itadori Yuji takes in Sukuna’s Finger, Satoru sees Sukuna’s cursed energy erupt in Roppongi and finds a familiar face at its epicenter. [🔏] [☯] [📿] 🧿👹

We Might Even Be Fallin' In Love [♡] [⭑] [♤] – The miracle of existence bridges the infinity between them. [☯] [📿] 🧿👹

Daughter of Disgrace [♡] [⭑] [♤] – In the aftermath of Satoru Gojo’s sealing, Sundari must choose rebellion in order to free him. Lucky for them both, rebellion has always been her preferred modus operandi. [☯] [📿] ⛩️⚔️ || 🧿👹

The Godslayer Project [♡] [⭑] [♤] - Coming soon...

The universe conspires to keep one pair's love kept safe. Nadja and Sukuna walk Samsāra, no matter the form, recognizing one another's souls everywhere they meet. Here is how their meeting ripples across the multiverse. [Or: I am in love with these two and here are some AUs I'm cooking up.]

Highball [♡] [⭑] [♤] - The price of peace has a cost. The scales must balance eventually. [Yakuza/Found Family AU]

noun [🔮] 1. the feeling one has on realizing that every other individual one sees has a life as full and real as one’s own, in which they are the central character and others, including oneself, have secondary or insignificant roles: In a state of sonder, each of us is at once a hero, a supporting cast member, and an extra in overlapping stories.

A collection of fics in my sprawling JJK multiverse featuring various protagonists, including the Reader!

The Unforgiving Roads That Lead to You [♡] [♤] – Roxanne Abaza, the only foreign-born special grade sorcerer in existence, is called to assist with the wrangling and exorcism of Ryōmen Sukuna. What ensues is more than she bargained for. [☥]

Halfsleeper [♡] [⭑] [♤] – A young widowed sorceress seeks protection under the aegis of the Honored One, but he has a better idea for keeping her out of the clutches of her dangerous clan. [∞] 🧿🧜🏾‍♀️

Unsanctioned [♡] [⭑] [♤] – Bodyguard/Yakuza AU. Toji Fushiguro, who is in disgrace after having an affair with his boss’ now ex-wife, is now tasked with protecting her as the mercurial grounds of Tokyo’s Underworld begin to shift into uncertainty, putting the entire syndicate and anyone associated with them in peril. [∞] ⛓️👸🏾

Before It's Gone [♡] [⭑] – Toji’s been darkening your doorway for a while and is only now realizing what you already knew. [☯] [🔮] ⛓️👩🏿‍🦱

These are playlists for the fics and characters within my JJK ‘verse. It cannot be overstated how much music plays an integral role in my creative process, and it makes me happy to share it with you all to expand the picture I paint with my stories. A ☮︎ indicates a link to the Spotify version of the playlist. Keep in mind that due to licensing issues [yuck], my personal music library tracks can’t be played on some services so there might be more or less songs, different versions of songs, etc. Still bangers, tho. Enjoy.

🎧 [ fugitive of heaven ] [☮︎]– Nadja Hikmat's playlist. Like her immortal life, this playlist has been curated across decades, evoking imagery of a wild, twisting sojourn through many eras. 🐍

🎧 [ godslayer principle ] [☮︎] – Sundari Hikmat's playlist. Expect atmospheric haunting, psytrance, hard techno, some house, R&B, trap, and strange chanting. 🔱

🎧 [ ritual + bone ] [☮︎] – Roxanne Abaza’s playlist. Witchy, just like our girl likes it.

🎧 [ highball ] [☮︎] – The soundtrack for my Parallax AU: Highball.

© 2024 Hajara Asiri. Do NOT copy, translate, plagiarize, repost anywhere without permission [reblogging posts is okay]. This includes feeding any of my writing to an AI as well as copying my masterlist format. I only upload on Tumblr, AO3, and FFN. All general banners and dividers by @cafekitsune.

☕️ Member of the @pixelcafe-network.

🇵🇸 Palestinian Resources - A guide to Palestine as well as resources in order to help with relief efforts for individuals and families. You can also check my main blog for fundraisers I boost as well.

🇵🇸 Nominal - A Palestinian-owned jewelry company with many beautiful and inspired pieces in silver and gold.

🇵🇸 Olive Odyssey - A collective of Palestinian farmers who tend to the ancient olive groves in Palestine. They make a delicious olive oil, and also sell the Palestinian spice seasoning, Zatar. Supporting them puts much-needed funds in the hands of Palestinian farmers, as well as helping families in Gaza.

[yexthiccxa]

The Angel With Horns Pt. 2

summary: the man you despise, satoru gojo is unfortunately your mentor at jujutsu high. he agreed to help you get with your childhood crush, suguru geto, but things have taken a bit of a turn after that last "mentoring" session

this is a continuation of part 1, but if you don't care about plot, feel free to read this as a one shot (:

wordcount: 9.7k 🙃 (i guess i just get carried away. this is also 4 chapters btw)

c/w: gojo/fem!reader, geto/fem!reader, gojo/oc, geto/oc, modern!au, teacher!au, smut, fluff & smut, some plot, plot what plot, rough!sex, flashbacks, asshole!gojo, flirty!gojo, cocky!gojo, soft!geto, rough!geto, cousin!shoko, mutual pining, confessing, teasing, flirting, playful banter, friends to lovers, enemies to lovers, sensual tension, sexual tension, pet names, degradation, fingering, f!masturbation, oral, fantasizing, choking, light gagging, multiple orgasms, inappropriate use of cursed energy, inappropriate use of cursed techniques

a/n: hiii thanks for the love on pt. 1! again this is my first fic so feedback is very much appreciated! will be working on part 3(some) ;)

Read Part 1 Here!

✦✧✸✧✦ 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ✦✧✸✧✦

Chapter 5: Regret

I’m alone with my thoughts, trying to stop the embarrassment from consuming me. I look out the windows before peeking down the hallway—no sign of Satoru anywhere. I realize I’m searching for someone who doesn’t want to be seen.

The intimacy I shared with Sugu—I mean, Satoru, has me conflicted. My mind thinks one thing, but my body feels the other, ultimately bringing me right back where I started. But this time around, my thoughts are coherent enough to take over.

If there’s anyone who would leave without saying goodbye, it’s Satoru. If there’s anyone who would be an absolute tease, it’s Satoru. If there’s anyone who would fuck now and not give a shit later, it’s Satoru. After all this time we spent together, I thought things would change. But now it’s crystal clear: Satoru Gojo will never change.

“Satoru is so annoying,” Shoko grumbled as she barged into my room.

“What’d he do this time?” I asked. With graduation around the corner, all I could think about was passing my exams.

“I asked him out, but he shot me down. He told me it’s because he likes someone else,” Shoko revealed. 

To keep our conversation short, I replied with, “Yeah that sucks I guess, but I’m sure you’re better off just being friends.”

Shoko plopped herself onto my bed, lacing her fingers behind her head while she stared at the ceiling. “Honestly, that’s totally fine—but that’s not the annoying part,” she started. “The annoying part is that he won’t tell me who. He talks about all the girls he hooks up with, but now he wants to keep it a secret? I just don’t get Satoru.”

I let out a sigh, “Maybe he’s just messing with you the same way he does with me. After all, Satoru is such a dick.”

✦✧✸✧✦

I spend the evening doing chores in hopes of forgetting what happened earlier this afternoon. If Satoru is going to be like this, the best thing I can do is to leave the past in the past. With my mentorship being over, I have no reason to even think about him anymore. All I need to do now is stick to the plan and keep my energy focused on Suguru.

Oh, right. Suguru. As the image of him forms in my mind, I’m reminded of our date. I’ve been so caught up with Satoru, I realized that I’m nowhere near prepared for tomorrow.

He said to meet at his place, but are we staying there? Or just meeting, then going out? Should I dress up? Or down? Heels, boots, or sneakers? My internal debate goes on for far too long before I finally decide to give him a call. 

The phone rings and I’m greeted with his signature velvety tone. “Did you miss the sound of my voice?” Suguru asks.

I’m immediately paralyzed, unsure of how to reply.

He lets out a little chuckle, “I’m just kidding. What’s up?”

“Ha. ha. Very funny.” I begin to ease up but butterflies still linger in my core. “I actually just wanted to ask what we’re doing tomorrow. I’m trying to figure out what to wear.”

Suguru pauses for a moment, “I don’t want to give away all the surprises, but let’s keep it simple and say dinner. I can’t tell you where, but just wear whatever makes you feel good.”

A surprise? My body tenses in excitement. “Okay, fine. I can work with this. Thank you! I’ll talk to you later!”

“No problem, see you tomorrow,” He replies.

Before I can hang up, Suguru calls for me one last time. When he gets my attention, he finally says, “I’m really excited for our date. I can’t wait to see you.”

“Me too.” I hang up the phone, and I can’t seem to wipe the grin off my face. I’m finally going on a real date with Suguru.

✦✧✸✧✦

The next day arrives and at 7pm, I find myself standing in front of Suguru’s door. I’m fixing the dress that I picked out the night before. It’s a black velvet mini dress with sheer cuffed sleeves. The sweetheart neck accentuates my chest, while the fitted flare skirt hugs my curves—the perfect blend of cozy, but classy. My nerves increase after the first knock, but it washes away when the door opens and I see Suguru’s face. 

Although the door is only halfway open, his physical presence still commands the space. His smile is pure and his eyes gaze at me with sincerity. “Please come in,” he says.

When I walk inside to take off my shoes, he closes the door and his footsteps echo towards me. I feel his hand cup the small of my back and a shock jolts through my body. His fingers brush against the zipper of my dress. As he slowly leans down to my ear, he whispers, “You look beautiful tonight.” The hairs on the back of my neck stand up and my heart begins to melt.

“Aww, thank you. You’re looking quite handsome yourself,” I reply, smiling in adoration. 

I take a moment to look around the apartment and my eyes widen. Flower petals line the hallway floor, leading me to the living space. The space is larger than I would expect for a Tokyo apartment. Across the room, windows stretch from the floor to the ceiling, making it feel ten times bigger. The lighting is soft, but the glow from the lamps warm up the space.

My eyes continue to wander until they finally land on his dining room table. Though the table is set for two, it’s completely filled with several plates of food. I see perfectly formed pieces of nigiri, various bowls of soup, an array of grilled fish and meats, and bowls of rice neatly placed on the side. 

“Oh my god, Suguru…did you make all of this?” I ask in disbelief.

He nods, curling his mouth into a smile.

“Do you do this for all your dates?” I challenge, raising my brow.

“Nope, just for you.” He makes his way towards the table. “Since you recently moved back, I wanted to make it feel like home.”

I can feel my jaw drop. I try to speak but nothing comes out. “I—I don’t even know where to start,” I finally reply.

He pulls out a seat and offers his hand to me, “You can start by eating.”

It takes everything I have to resist eating everything in one bite, but the taste is so delicious. Each bite is a burst of flavor that sends me to the moon. Even if our date ended here, I would easily be satisfied. When we finish up our meal, I help him pack the leftovers and clean up.

As we’re washing dishes together, I turn to him. “Suguru, thank you for cooking. You’ve always taken such good care of me. I really don’t deserve you.”

He pauses to turn off the water and wipe his hands. I watch him move towards me to cradle my face while his fingers trace the edge of my jawline. “I told you once before and I’ll tell you again, I like taking care of you. Always have, always will.”

We gaze into each other’s eyes, and for a moment, time stands completely still. I gently place my hands on his chest. His heart beats fast, like it’s trying to challenge my own. Is he just as nervous as I am? As I slowly grasp the wrinkles of his shirt, his pulse quickens and his breath becomes shallow. When I see his smile begin to form, I close my eyes and pull him down to meet my lips.

Suguru’s mouth molds into mine and it’s everything I could’ve ever imagined. I love how his lips are soft and his grasp is warm, nothing in this world can compare. As he guides me to the sink, my back arches and I can feel myself getting engulfed into his body. It’s covering me with comfort and protection. I’ve imagined this moment many times and it’s absolute perfectio—he pulls away.

Suguru walks towards the dining room and he mutters something with his head in his hands.

I follow him, tugging at his sleeve. “Hey, is everything okay? Did I do something wrong?”

He finds his way to the couch muttering, “No, no. It’s not you.” After a moment of thought, he continues, ”Sorry, I just thought I could do this but I’m scared of what might happen to us. I don’t want to hurt you, and I definitely don’t want to lose you again.”

I take a seat next to him, placing one hand on his shoulder, and the other over his knee. “Hurt me? Lose me? Again? Suguru, what are you talking about?”

He brushes my arm, hesitant for what comes next. The room is quiet and I can almost hear his heartbeat with mine. “During your last summer here,” he starts. He takes in a breath and slowly lets his words tumble out. “I was talking to Satoru for you—basically telling him to lighten up on the jokes and all that. He seemed to  take it well, but I remember him saying, ‘Fine. But she’s leaving soon anyways so it doesn’t really matter.’ I wasn’t sure what he meant at first, but he ended up telling me that he overheard you talking to Shoko… about moving away.”

My heart drops as memories of that day slowly piece back together…

“Are you really going to leave?” Shoko asked.

I gave an apologetic nod. “It’ll be good for me to get out there, you know? I’d travel the world, learn from other teachers, see if there are bigger and better things out there for me.” I let out a sigh. “I feel like there’s not much here for me anymore.”

“I get it. Well, just know that I’ll miss you. I’m sure the guys will too,” Shoko said as she gave me a hug.

I laughed, “Doubt it.”

I return to the moment and look at Suguru. When he sees tears forming in my eyes, he wipes them away. His hand tightens around mine before he says, “I didn’t think that was true until you told me yourself. It hurt me so much inside but, who was I to stop you from finding yourself or seeing the world? You deserved to do all the things you wanted to do.”

But all I wanted was you. Are you saying you wanted me too? Droplets trickle down my face, but I keep my eyes locked onto his—taking in every single word.

“After you left, I was a mess. I stopped training, so my cursed energy weakened. Then during one of our missions, I fucked up and part of my soul merge with a cursed spirit. When it took over my body, it was strong. It’s a long story, but the main point is— I’m scared to get too close. I don’t think it’s safe.”

I bring myself in closer, moving my hand to his face. “But Suguru, I always feel safe when I’m with you. It’s always been like that, even now…especially now.”

“Yeah, but that’s because I’ve trained myself to control it. When I lose my senses, it slips out, and when it slips out…it isn’t pretty—it just doesn’t feel like me. Even though I’m still the same person physically, everything else becomes more intense. The rage, the aggression, all the things in between.”

He pauses, placing his hand around my cheek. “I like you, a lot. But if I ever let anything happen to you…or worse, if I let myself do anything to hurt you, I don’t know what I would do.”

My heart is pounding, my mind goes blank. The world goes silent as his voice becomes an echo. Is this…real? I open my mouth to let my words out, but nothing. I eventually muster up the strength to ask a question, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was going to, but when you said that you didn’t have anything left here… well, I thought that also meant me. I never wanted to be the one to hold you back.” He retracts and his face becomes resigned.

Before he can pull away, I bring my face to his. “Suguru, I’ve liked you for a very long time. And I appreciate you for letting me live my life, but I promise you—I’m ready for this. For you. For all of you.”

His face softens and shows a smile of relief. “All I want to do is take care of you,” he starts. I can feel his hands tremble. “But I’m scared of the person I’ll become.”

“Suguru…” I lift myself up, slowly climbing over to straddle him. His frame is large, but I still feel myself fit comfortably around him. As I settle myself onto his lap, I feel his bulge pulse against my center. The tension in the air grows as I move myself closer. I let my mouth linger inches away from his and whisper. “I trust you.”

He stops momentarily, savoring every last word that fell from my mouth. His eyes ignite and I can feel fire coursing through his soul. In one second, I feel his breath and in the next, I feel his mouth. He plants a kiss onto my lips, letting his hands roam around me.

Unlike before, this kiss is searing with passion. One hand grabs my hair while the other grabs my ass, and he lays me on the couch until his body is covering me. He pulls away for just a moment before he growls, “Then let me feel you, beautiful.”

Chapter 6: Rough

Something in the room has changed, as though the air has warmed up around us. Traces of Suguru’s cursed energy illuminate the room, forming a blue haze that floats above us. I let out a breath of awe—everything in this moment feels like a dream.

My attention floats back to Suguru as his kisses effortlessly consume me. It’s like he knows all the spots that make me tremble. As he kisses his way down my neck, his hands move to the contours of my curves. When he gets to my chest, he uses his fingers to pull down the neckline of my dress. My heart beats out of me as I’m completely exposed.

He stares for a moment, slowly cupping his hand around my breast. His tongue works my nipple, while my hands grab his hair. The tie on his bun slips and I feel his locks gently fall. The Suguru I’ve known has always been proper—pristine, but the way he looks right now makes him absolutely primal.

As his lips are tugging on me, I feel his hand slip between my thighs. They’re large and overpowering, but they feel so soft as they dance against my skin. There’s no doubt in my mind that his touch is absolutely perfect. His tugs turn into nibbles and a surge of liquid gushes between my legs. As my back arches with pleasure, he pulls off my panties and gently caresses my folds. Suguru brings himself up to kiss me and purrs, “Baby girl, you are soaking wet.”

He continues to treat my breasts with care and I can feel him rub the edges of my slit. I relax myself back into the couch and let the rhythmic passes of his fingers take me—teasing me with every stroke.

“Please Suguru,” I breathe. My voice is needy, unsteady.

He picks up his head while the edge of his mouth curls to the side. Easing his fingers into me, he rumbles, “Anything for you, my love.”

His fingers barely enter me, but the sheer size of them is enough to make me whimper. The thoughts in my head no longer exist. It’s just me, him, and the rush of desire flowing through me. As he glides them back and forth I can feel my juices slip out. My walls contract and pleasure grows between my thighs.

He slides in nice and slow, feeling every inch of the warmth inside of me. The ridges of his fingers press against me, massaging every crevice he can find. Oh how I wish this would never stop.

“Do you like when I touch your pussy like this?” Suguru asks. His voice is sultry and slow.

I can’t find the words so all I do is nod.

He slows down to give me a kiss before his smirk grows into a full on smile. He slides down the couch until he’s near my entrance. “Spread your legs and I can make you feel so much better.”

Whenever he speaks, goosebumps travel across my skin.

He lowers his head and drags his tongue across my slit. It’s wet and warm, emulating the essence of the cream between my legs. His mouth moves all over my center and I can feel myself pulsate against him. He sucks me, licks me, completely consumes me, and all I can do is yell his name. I lock my fingers onto his hair every time he makes me moan.

“You taste so good.” The vibration of his words travel through my walls.

Just like his kisses, his mouth is rough and needy, wanting to taste every bit of me. He swallows every bit of liquid that oozes out and I can tell his mouth is drenched because of me.

As he continues devouring me with his tongue, I feel the length of his fingers tease my entrance. He slides them into me and my moans begin to amplify. My back arches further and the tension continues to build.

His tongue and his fingers move perfectly in sync, I can’t take it. It’s wet, sloppy, and the drumming around my clit leaves me enchanted. I can feel myself reaching my limit.

“Don’t stop,” I pant. My moans become louder and I can feel the tingles creep into my core. “I— I’m gonna come.” 

His pace remains steady, but that doesn’t stop the pleasure from climbing. He doesn’t pick up his head to speak, but the way he drives into me lets me know he’s saying, “Come for me.”

The thought leaves me in absolute heat. I let out one last moan and I feel the orgasm flow through my body. Waves of ecstasy slam against every end of my body. For a moment, I stay still, taking deep breaths and feeling every tingle leave my body. The clouds of Suguru’s cursed energy are still floating around us and I remember that this time, it’s not actually a dream.

I keep my eyes locked on Suguru as he climbs off of the couch. His hair is disheveled and his shirt is wrinkled, but he still looks as handsome as ever. He offers his hand to pull me up, and greets me with a kiss. I feel him pull away, but he remains close and utters softly, “I’m not done with you yet, beautiful.”

He gently turns me around and starts to unzip my dress. As his fingers brush off the fabric on my shoulders he tells me, “I’m warning you now… I’ve done my best to remain steady, but if I start to slip I can’t promise that you’ll like who I become. Are you sure you still want to do this?”

My dress drops to the floor and his gaze roams my body.

I slowly lift up his shirt and pull him close. “It’s okay Suguru, I can take it.”

✦✧✸✧✦

Suguru grabs a fistful of my hair and pulls me into a fevered kiss. His body towers over me as I race to take off the rest of his clothes. When I make my way to his pants, I let my hand graze the length of his cock. He immediately hardens beneath me and the air takes another shift. The haze of blue swirls fade into red and his skin runs hot like fire.

I can barely pull down his slacks before he grabs my waist to pull me up against him. His skin is smooth, his chest is hard, and I can feel him brush against my center. When his strong grip takes a hold of my ass, I wrap my legs around him while he walks us to his room. 

He sets me on the bed and guides me down until my back presses against his sheets. The lights are off, but the red fog illuminates the room—allowing me to make out the contours of his body.

He looms over me and begins to rub my clit. I hum in pleasure and roll my head back.

“You’ve barely even touched me and I’m already breaking,” he growls. He takes another look at my body and I can feel the hunger in his eyes. “You are god damn beautiful.”

Suguru uncovers his cock, and I can feel my eyes widen. He’s big. And I mean big. As he tugs against it, I feel my eyes locking onto him—he’s mesmerizing.

“Is something the matter, princess?” he smirks. His brow arches like it’s a challenge. “Like you said… you can take it.”

I do my best to bite back a smile as my heart continues to race. The haze grows brighter around us.

Suguru lowers himself onto the bed, guiding himself into me. He stretches me so wide, forcing me to moan—but I know it’s only the tip. He continues to ease himself inside and I can’t help but gasp for air.

Once my walls adjust to his size, he grips my thighs and picks up his tempo. I can feel his whole length beat against my cervix. I cry in pleasure as my back arches and my eyes begin to shut.

“Eyes on me, baby girl. The whole time.” My eyes shoot open and see a fiendish smile dance across his face. “Now show me how much of a slut you can be.”

He moves one hand up my body, stopping to stroke my nipple, before landing on the edge of my neck. His fingers gently press on the sides of my throat, leaving just enough passage for air to flow through. His touch is violent, his voice is stern, but all of it has me dripping in delight.

My mind goes numb, registering only the feelings of pleasure and pain. I knew he was large, but the magnitude of his cock leaves me speechless. I keep my gaze fixed on him as he drives inside me, making me cry out louder each time. All I can make out is, “Fuck, Suguru.”

“That’s my girl. Louder,” he growls. “Let me hear how much you need me.”

My moans begin to amplify, but that only makes his thrusts go deeper. I don’t know who this Suguru is, but he tames me like an animal and fucks me like a beast. Everything about this makes me crave him so much more. My thighs clench at the thought, making the juices leave my body. “Fuck—that feels…so—good.” My words are breathy and labored.

“Your pussy is so tight. Fitting for a little slut like you.” He releases briefly and forcefully flips me over. As he grabs a fistfull of my hair to pull me close to his face, I feel him whisper. “Let’s see how well you can take me from behind.”

He keeps his grip wrapped in my hair, and my head presses into his chest. I feel his power surge through me as he pushes his way back inside. My center is so wet, he makes driving into me seem effortless. When he rams into the front of my walls, I feel myself squeeze around him.

Suguru releases my hair, but he wastes no time. His fingers move to hook into my mouth, leaving every part of my body filled. His other hand remains painfully gripped around my waist. I struggle to catch my breath when his pressure doesn’t let up.

“You feel so good, baby girl. I could fuck you forever.” The vibration of his voice tickles the side of my throat. His pace is steady but his movements are rough and relentless.

Every beat has me screaming in desire.

Suguru lets his hands trail from my mouth to my center and uses the wetness on his fingers to rub my clit. I’m overwhelmed with pleasure as I feel my folds throb against him. With my mouth free, he plants hungry kisses onto my lips and I can feel my body wanting to release.

His hips continue to strike into me, causing tears to well into my eyes. They fall down my cheek, but his tongue slowly cleans it up before he returns his mouth back to mine.

The pressure inside grows and I feel my climax calling for me. He’s so good. All of him feels so good. I can’t stop thinking about the way he looks, the way he feels, how perfect he is inside of me. “Please don’t stop, I’m—gonna—” I can barely speak, let alone breathe. “Come.”

“As my little slut should. Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” His breath quickens and the way his body moves tells me he’s close too. “Do you want me to come inside of you?”

I moan with pleasure and that’s the only confirmation he needs.

Suguru roars in desire, but the volume of my cry rivals him. I feel him release inside of me as tides of my orgasm flow through my body. My ears are ringing and my fingers go numb.

His come feels hot as it shoots up through me. As his grip tenses around me, I can feel them leaving bruises on my skin. He catches his breath and slowly glides his way out of me. I can feel his liquid dripping down my thighs.

I let myself settle back down onto the bed, feeling the remnants of my orgasm drift away.

Suguru adjusts himself so that his mouth hovers inches away from my ear. “Thank you for gracing me with that perfect little pussy.” he whispers.

No, Suguru. Thank you.

Chapter 7: Relax

The morning comes and the sun beams brightly through the windows. I wake up and see Suguru’s arm wrapped around me. His embrace gives me comfort, and I never want to let go. As I adjust myself to see his face, I notice how the rays of sun bounce off his back. The light illuminates the outline of his silhouette—he is truly an angel.

I think back last night—how raw, powerful, and commanding he was. But as I look at him now, I see that there’s no sign of the animal he once was. His eyes are softly shut, his mouth is calm, and his hair is gently swept across his face. I brush back the strands that have fallen, and place a delicate kiss on his cheek. With one last look of admiration, I slowly inch my way out of the bed to grab a glass of water.

“No, don’t go,” he softly groans. He’s half asleep, but his grasp pulls me right back next to him. He caresses the contours of my naked body, and I’m reminded of how good it feels to have his hands around me.

I let out a little chuckle, “I’m getting water, I’ll be right back.” I give him another kiss and he surrenders. I hear him grumble but he doesn’t fight back as I wiggle my way out of the bed.

I make my way through the living room, and back to the kitchen. Sunlight pours through the windows, unveiling the aftermath of our night. Our clothes are everywhere, the furniture is skewed, and the pillows from the couch have been dumped on the floor.

As I pick up the mess, I hear the door unlock and my heart immediately drops into my stomach. Fuck. I’m completely bare. Running back to the room would take too much time, so I race to put on the shirt that Suguru wore the night before. Who the hell is even at the…oh, it’s Satoru. I forgot they were roommates.

When I realize it’s Satoru, I feel my heart stop and a powerful rage fills me. I’m reminded of the anger, the horror, and the embarrassment I felt Friday afternoon. I thought I could look past it, but I let my emotions consume me.

As the door closes, I hear a vexing voice drifting my way. “Looks like someone had a little fun last night.”

I march up to him as the hems of Suguru's shirt brush against my knees. “What the hell is your problem, Satoru?”

He continues setting down his belongings. “For someone who looks like they had great sex, you seem a little feisty.” His tone is mellow, his grin is smug. It’s everything I hate about him. 

All I want to do is scream, but with Suguru asleep, my voice remains hushed. “One—yes, I did have great sex, thank you for noticing. But two—I’m furious with you. What happened on Friday? You literally just left me there.  And three—What is your problem? What kind of sick person does that?”

Satoru leans himself against the table. “Listen, angel. I did you a favor.”

I rush in front of him to block the noise from traveling too far. “Keep it down,” I snap at him.

Satoru picks himself up and takes a step towards me. His face hovers over me and I can feel my heart shudder. Our gaze latches onto each other as he softly whispers in my ear. “You seemed like you were enjoying yourself there, and trust me… while I would’ve loved to go further, I couldn’t take that away from Suguru.”

My arms cross and my stare remains unwavering. I scoff in his face. “You are so annoying. What makes you think I would ever let you have sex with me?”

“You wouldn’t?” He fires back quickly.

My jaw drops. I want to shoot back, but I’m at a complete loss for words. The hesitation is enough for his look to become even more self-assured.

He steps a bit closer and the heat from his body warms the air. “I’m just kidding angel. Although, I’m sure Suguru wouldn’t mind sharing.”

I push him back with enough force for him to bump the table. “Satoru!”

He makes his way around me and charges straight for the rooms. “You know what? We can just ask him about that right now. Hey Su—”

“Satoru, shut up!” I try to pull him back but his force is too strong.

A raspy voice emerges. “Good morning,” Suguru appears from the hallway leading to the room. He looks at us and breaks into a gentle laughter. “I guess some things never change with you two.”

He walks over to me, wrapping his hand around my waist to give me a kiss. “Nice shirt.”

My cheeks flush as I'm reminded that all I have on is Suguru’s oversized tee. I cling to him in embarrassment.

Satoru watches us move to the couch as he grabs a drink from the refrigerator. His brow perks up with interest. “This is new. Looks like you two had a fun night,” he calls from across the room.

I feel my eyes burn as I glare at him.

Suguru wraps his arm around me as a gesture of reassurance and I settle into his arms. “Satoru, relax. Don’t you have other women to fuck or bother? Leave mine alone.” He kisses me on the forehead and I look up at him with affection.

Satoru grabs his drink and strolls to his room. “Yes, your majesty,” he mocks Suguru lovingly. He turns to me with a sarcastic bow. “Sorry m’lady, please go about your day.”

I roll my eyes at him before directing my attention to Suguru. “How do you do that?” I ask curiously.

“Do what?” he replies.

“I don’t know, wrangle him? Satoru always listens to you.”

“I get him out of so many things, he basically owes me for life.”

“You’re always looking out for everyone, aren’t you?" I smile because this is the Suguru I know and love. Nothing about him could ever scare me away.

He turns to look at me like I’m the only person in the world. “But it’s only fun when I get to do it for you.”

✦✧✸✧✦

Our morning together is exactly what I hoped it would be. We spend a good bulk of our time preparing breakfast—grilling fish and whipping up tamagoyaki, just to scarf it down with a side of rice.

Unfortunately for me, Satoru joins us for the meal. However, I’m pleasantly surprised when he decides to keep the conversation tame. As much as I hate the guy, he’s not completely intolerable. We spend a few moments cracking jokes and I watch them playfully argue about who would win in a fight. As I look around the table, I smile. I’m overjoyed with the feelings of nostalgia that whip through my soul.

After we finish cleaning up our meal, Satoru heads back into his room while Suguru and I plop ourselves on the couch. He rests one elbow on the armrest, and the other around my shoulder. I snuggle myself into him and rest my head on his chest. He plants a kiss on my forehead and His eyes light up with his genuine smile.

I've shared many years of my life with Suguru, yet none of them have been quite like this. His cuddles comfort me, his kisses revive me, and his touch—well, his touch ignites me in ways I can’t describe.

“You know, I could stay like this forever,” I say to him.

“What do you mean?” His brow lifts.

“Being cuddled up against you. It’s the best feeling.” I smile because it’s true.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, this is great,” he begins. “But I can think of a couple more things that might feel better.” He moves from the armrest, letting his fingers graze my chest and dance down my body. He lifts up the hem of my shirt.

A jolt of arousal runs through me when I feel the pads of his fingers rub against my panties.

“Suguru!” I playfully push him off with a smile.

He raises his brow and smirks. “What’s wrong? Don’t think you can handle another round?”

“Satoru is right there,” I murmured, carefully keeping my voice down.

Suguru adjusts himself to get a better angle of my lips and presses his mouth against mine. “He can fuck off. Let him see.”

My attention is immediately averted when I hear a passing voice coming from the bathroom.

“I’m right here,” Satoru calls out as he crosses the opening in the hallway.

Without breaking the kiss, Suguru lifts his hand from me, and I shift my eyes to see his middle finger raised at Satoru. I chuckle.

Satoru returns to his room and shuts the door. Once we’re back to being alone, Suguru returns my kisses and focuses his attention back to my folds.

The pleasure rises as I feel his lips part and he slips his tongue into my mouth. He hums against my lips as his fingers gently rub my clit. No matter how many times he touches me, I still feel a rush. My body gets lighter as it drifts away, in search of euphoria and I mutter curses under my breath. I wish this feeling would never stop. My thighs begin to clench as I feel liquid form between them. This is so— 

Buzz. I hear his phone chime on the table. He silences it and stays fixated on me. 

Buzz. He tries to ignore it, hoping it will pass.

Buzz. He hesitates. Now completely distracted, he momentarily breaks away. “I’m so sorry. Do you mind if I take this real quick?”

I nod, moving from him so he can get up to take the call. I can’t really make out the conversation, but judging from his tone, it doesn’t seem great.

He hangs up the phone and shoots me with an apologetic smile, “Yaga needs me to help with some curse clean up, but it shouldn’t take long. I promise. Do you mind if I step away for a little bit?”

My brow furrows. “Why doesn’t he ever call for Satoru’s help?”

“For what it’s worth, he does call him. But have you met Satoru?”

“Yeah you’re right.” I remember our conversation from earlier. I get him out of so many things, he basically owes me for life. Damn you, Satoru. You owe him—or rather me, big time. I let out a sigh as disappointment washes over me.

Suguru gives me a soft kiss, though he knows that isn’t enough to satisfy the arousal between my legs. “I’m so sorry. Feel free so stay if you want, make yourself feel at home,” he starts. “It’s 12 right now, so I’ll probably be back in an hour—two hours, max. I promise.”

As he gathers himself together, Satoru approaches from his room and appears in the hallway crossing. He rests his arm on the edge of the frame and directs himself to Suguru. “Hey, I heard some shuffling, are you going somewhere?”

My eyes widen as I notice Satoru’s body stretched along the wall. He’s only wearing a pair of sweats while his top is completely bare. The sun from the windows hits the contours of his muscles, making his skin glisten. His white hair rests gently on his face as he tilts his head in curiosity. The blue in his eyes are centered on Suguru but the color still pierces my vision from afar.

My gaze goes from the top of the frame and travels down the length of Satoru’s forearms. It reaches the subtle curves of his bicep and slowly creeps down to the lines of his chest and the ridges of his abs. His build is lean, and his body is defined. My eyes slowly roam as they follow the lines of the V-shaped trail that leads right down to—fuck. Stop.

What am I doing?

I snap out of it and return to find myself plugged in mid-conversation.

“...I can go if you want,” Satoru finishes. 

Suguru continues to round up his things, but pauses to place an arm on Satoru’s shoulder and sighs. “I would love that, truly. But no offense, you’d probably get yourself into trouble. Yaga would just call me anyways to clean up your mess too.” He turns to me with a regretful look, pleading for forgiveness. “It’s just faster if I do it myself, I promise I’ll be quick.”

Satoru huffs as he rolls his eyes. “You’re right, but offense has still been taken.”

One more kiss and Suguru heads to the door. “Be a good mentor and take care of her while I’m gone. Try not to be an asshole.” His voice trails, but he stops momentarily to give me one last heartfelt smile. The door closes and my gut churns as I’m left staring at a shirtless Satoru.

Satoru lifts himself off of the frame and heads back to his room. Before the door shuts, he mockingly calls out, “Don’t worry angel, I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

I shake my head and let out an exasperated breath. Even when he’s being cordial, he still gets under my skin.

With Suguru gone, I’m unsure of what to do. My core still feels tight and there’s the lingering arousal between my legs. Satoru has locked himself in his room, so it feels like I have most of the apartment to myself. I use this as the perfect opportunity to draw myself a bath so I can finally relax. 

✦✧✸✧✦

Stepping into the tub, the immediate warmth cocoons me. It reminds me of being wrapped in Suguru’s embrace. I take a few moments to unwind, feeling the comfort of the water against my skin. My head rests on the edge of the tub as I close my eyes and let my mind drift…

Slowly…

Slowly…

Drift…

My vision jumps to Suguru as he hums into my breasts and teases my folds. His touch is warm and playful, but it’s no surprise that I long for more. The image in my mind is clear, but the feeling falls short. I let my hands slip between my thighs and let the gentle pressure of my fingers fuel my fantasy.

The image shifts, and I envision how Suguru’s frame completely overpowers me. His shoulders are wide, his muscles are thick, and I let my eyes trail down his beautiful body. The contours of his abs feel like steel, but his skin is smooth as his hips rock against me. My gaze reaches his cock and it’s already trickling in arousal.

He teases me, gently sliding the tip across my slit. I bite my lip to hold back my whimper. When he sees how needy I am for him, he guides his length into me and I feel him expand my walls. I let myself mimic the motions with my hands and a rush of pleasure flows through me.

Suguru grinds his hips, thrusting everything he has into me until my pussy is completely filled. The rhythmic motion leaves me dizzy and I can feel my vision beginning to blur. The tension inside me boils as I imagine the friction of his cock massaging me. All of his ridges compliment my own and I can feel myself drip with desire.

Suguru’s presence invades my thoughts and a moan escapes my breath. As I feel myself pulsate against the pressure of my fingers, a devilish voice drifts through my head. Though I can’t make out the voice, the thought just fuels my fire.

“He would tell you you’re soaking wet,” I continue working my clit until I’m on the brink of pleasure. I squirm as the tingles of my orgasm begin to peek over the horizon.

“He would say you’re god damn beautiful,” The words make my core flutter and my center continues to throb. I’m close, so close. The image in my head flips.

“Does he make you feel good?” Yes. So good. A vision of Satoru pounding into me resonates through my body. I’m about to—

“Yes, angel. Come for—” Fuck.

My eyes immediately shoot open when I realize the narrator of my thoughts. No, no, no, no. That did not just happen. I feel like I just woke up from a mortifying nightmare. But…if it’s a nightmare, then why do I still feel myself quiver? Stop.

I grab my towel and I shake my head to wipe away the image. As I let the bath drain, I find myself deep in thought. Why the hell is Satoru in my head and how do I get him out? I press my fingertips against my temples. Please just leave.

I try to collect myself, but memories of Friday with Satoru flood my brain. I get flashbacks of his fingers pressing into me and I immediately feel weak. I remember his tongue on my center and it makes my heart skip a beat. Stop. In my haste, I bolt out the door and collide into a large figure. 

I lift my head up to see Satoru standing before me. The warmth of his skin bounces off of me. “What the hell are you doing?” My voice is raised, but he doesn’t realize it’s because he invaded my thoughts. 

Satoru furrows his brow with one hand holding a towel around his waist, and the other raised up in defense. “Whoa, can’t I take a bath in my own house?”

My pupils dilate when I realize our towels are the only thing in between our bodies. It takes every bit of willpower to not let my eyes linger below his waist. I decide to keep my head down and swiftly maneuver past him. “Oh, right. Fine, just go ahead.” I get to the front of Suguru’s door, and my hand hovers over the knob.

Before I can turn it, Satoru calls out to me. “By the way, I noticed you were a little loud in there.” I try to move, but my body stands still. ”Were those moans for me?”

I’m frozen in shock. I tilt my head to see if his gaze is darting towards me—it’s not. Instead, all I see is his towel drop, but the door shuts before I can see it hit the floor. Nice ass—Stop.

My cheeks flush, my heart races, and I’m pretty sure my entire soul has left my body. How do I leave every interaction with Satoru feeling absolutely mortified?

Chapter 8: Repeat

Were those moans for me? No. Yes—I mean kinda? So what if they were? Fucking hell, this cannot be happening right now. Stupid Satoru and his stupid charm.

As I struggle to push the thoughts aside, I check the clock and it’s 12:30 pm. It’s only been thirty minutes since Suguru left. That’s okay, I can just relax in his room and avoid Satoru for the next hour and a half. I let out a groan and try to figure out my next move.

I set the towel down and look at my options for clothing—Suguru’s shirt from last night, dirty. The dress that I wore here, dirty. My panties sitting on the floor, soaked… and dirty. With my options limited, I settle for a fresh t-shirt from Suguru’s dresser, hoping he won’t mind. Similar to the last one, this one barely grazes my knees—but it’s cozy nonetheless.

I spend some time mindlessly scrolling away on my phone, until my stomach starts to growl—I haven’t eaten since breakfast. I tiptoe my way to the door and press my ear against the wood to see if there’s any sign of Satoru in the common space. It seems quiet, so I think the coast is clear—but of course, it isn’t.

Satoru is sitting at the dining table with his headphones in. He looks like he’s intently watching something on his phone. His hair is a bit wet, and he still hasn't gotten around to putting on a shirt. Can’t blame him though, it is his apartment after all. After a moment, he notices that I’ve stepped out of Suguru’s room and pauses the video to talk to me.

“Oh hey, you’re alive! I thought you were either masturbating, napping, or dead so I didn’t want to disturb you.”

I give him a half smile, spotting an unfinished plate of food resting in front of him. It reminds me why I went out in the first place.

“You’re probably hungry. Here, I can warm up something for you.” Before I can protest, he’s already up to grab me a plate, some chopsticks, and containers from the refrigerator.

“Oh okay, thanks.” Satoru hasn’t teased me yet. In fact, he’s actually being nice? So far so good. I take a seat at the table and try to figure out what’s playing on his phone. “What are you watching?”

“It’s this movie about some mad scientist who turns—”

“People into worms,” I help finish off his sentence.

He smiles. “Yeah, Human Earthworm 4. You know it? One of my students keeps pestering me to watch it. It’s messed up, but I actually think it’s kinda funny.”

“Yeah, I knew I recognized it! I’ve seen this one before and it’s pretty good. Unlike the others, this one feels more like a romance.” I reply with a laugh. 

After setting down my food, Satoru disconnects his headphones and moves his plate to the spot next to mine. He props his phone in between us and we spend the last 20 minutes of the movie eating our lunch, huddled closely together around his phone. His body heat radiates as our shoulders touch, sending a brief shock through me.

When we finish our meal, I wipe down the table while he washes the dishes in the sink. We laugh about the movie, share sentiments about the storyline, Satoru even comes up with theories on what Human Earthworm 5 would be like. In moments like this, I’m reminded of the times in our mentorship where we actually got along. This is nice—this Satoru is nice.

As I finish putting the last container back into the fridge, I hear him turn off the faucet. I turn around to see him dry his hands and lean on the edge of the counter. I can tell something in his demeanor has changed. His mouth opens to say something, but he decides to keep it shut.

“Is everything okay?”

He looks away, scratching the back of his head as if he’s nervous to speak. “So, you never answered my question.”

“What question?”

“Your bath. Your moans. Were they—”

I immediately cut him off while my eyes roll, and my shoulders drop. I was hoping he wouldn’t bring it up, but I should’ve known better. All Satoru wants to do in life is get under my skin. “I really don’t understand you. I know you’re capable of being a nice and normal human being, so why do you insist on antagonizing me like this?”

He takes a step forward, like it’s a challenge. “You’re not denying it, so I can’t be completely wrong.”

My mouth twitches open, but I hesitate. I guess I’m not denying it.

Satoru moves another inch closer, causing me to take a small step back. His powerful presence is all I can feel. His velvety tone delivers his words nice and slow. “Do you want to know the beauty of the Six Eyes, angel? It means that I can see everything.”

I feel the heat rush to my cheeks and I take in a sharp breath. Everything? What does he mean by everything? “Wh—What are you talking about?” I stammer.

His words are paced and methodical. “I see the way your cursed energy changes every time I walk in the room.”

There’s silence.

“...I can see the way it gravitates towards me when I rest on the doorframe, and the way it struggles to hold your gaze up when I’m wrapped in a towel.”

The sound of my heart fills the room.

“...I see the way it vibrates when you try to get a glimpse of my ass.”

My jaw drops open, but nothing comes out.

“...And I definitely see it sync with your heartbeat whenever I whisper in your ear.”

His hand grazes my shoulder while the other gently caresses my waist. I let him. My gaze locks onto his and I’m completely hypnotized.

Satoru slowly leans down and stops until his face is next to mine. “You want me, angel.”

I stiffen my spine, in hopes of him seeing that I won’t back down. But who am I kidding? I’ve already been caught in his trap. As I take in the scent of his freshly bathed body, I feel myself gush between my thighs. In that instant, I’m reminded that my only piece of clothing is an oversized shirt. “So what if I do?”

Satoru smiles, gently pinning me against the refrigerator. He places his forehead on top of mine and can feel his gaze burn through me. “Do you remember the rules I told you about on your first day back?”

One—If you want me, don’t want me.

Two—If you need me, don’t need me.

Three—If you need my help, help yourself first.

I let him lift my chin and gently kiss my lips. “I think they were for me more than they were for you. Because right now, I want you too.” 

When I kiss him back, I feel his touch become more needy. I haven’t said a single word, but he knows my actions speak louder. He grabs my waist and flips me around so that my hips are pinned against his counter, allowing him to go deeper into the kiss. His grip is demanding, desperate to feel every bit of my body.

“I played nice and let Suguru have his fun, but I’m telling you right now—I need you.” He briefly pulls away and I see a rush of desire filling his hungry eyes. “So please angel, help me.”

I direct one of his hands to the bulge of his pants and the other underneath my shirt and in between my legs.  “How about you help yourself first.”

“No panties? Angel, you’re making this way too easy.” Satoru tugs down his pants to reveal his cock, stroking it as he teases my folds. He drops his forehead onto my shoulder and I hear him groan as he pleases himself. The size of his length is enough to make me gasp. I watch his large hands tug on it before my vision is blocked by Satoru pressing his lips into mine.

My arms stretch back onto the counter and I can feel the coolness of the sink spike through my fingers. My head rolls back and the rays of sunlight blind me as Satoru kisses his way down my neck.

“I always thought you were a good girl,” he growls in my ear. “I never expected you to prove me wrong.”

The words send shivers down my spine and I immediately tangle my fingers into his hair. He slides his fingers inside of me and my slick oozes out onto his hands. I feel the warmth of his pads, the ridges of his knuckles, I feel everything. He glides himself in and out, and the pressure instantly makes my walls convulse.

He continues to jack himself off and his breath becomes labored. The warmth in his breath hugs me as his kisses move back to my mouth. He’s desperately clinging to my lips and I can hear his groans as I tug on his hair.

He breaks away, panting, leaving our faces inches from each other. “Do you want to know the real reason I left that day?” he reveals. 

My gaze locks onto his beautiful blue eyes.

“If I stayed, I would’ve wanted more. I would’ve dropped my limitless and it would be over.” Satoru slows down the pace of his fingers, and I feel myself dripping down on him with excitement. I guide the rest of his pants off and he gently lifts off my shirt.

The softness of his skin roams my body, leaving a trail of fire within me. When his hands are done searching, he drags them up to cup my face. “I left because… If I had the chance to feel you, and I mean really feel you, I would’ve fucked you until your legs give out.”

My mouth twitches and I raise my brow to challenge him. “Prove it.”

Before I can even think, Satoru’s hands race to grab a hold of my thighs. He lifts me up until my elbows are resting on the counter and my feet are off the floor. His grip is powerful as he drives his cock straight into me. No easing, no adjusting, just pure thrusting. I immediately throw my head back and moan in sincere delight, knocking over the dish rack behind me.

His hands venture over to my ass, squeezing so hard like he wants to milk every last bit of me. I don’t mind the bruises as long as it showers me with bliss. The pounding of his hips against mine reverberates through the entire room. All I hear is our moans mix with groans and he’s fucking me senseless like a messy symphony of pleasure and pain. 

As his cock drills into me, I feel my back ache as he presses me into the counter. The edges dig into me, but the arousal between my legs overpowers it all. “Fuck.”

When Satoru notices, he eases his stroke to pick me up, and carries me to the table. “Maybe this will be a little more comfortable for you.”

I feel my cheeks touch the surface and slowly lower my back onto the wood. Satoru picks up one of my legs and throws it over his shoulder. Once he settles, he resumes pace and doesn’t let up. Whatever angle he has me at has his cock ramming directly into the sensitive spot in my pussy. I struggle to find a grip on the table, causing the vase of faux plants to crash. 

“Angel, you are so tight.” His words have my moans growing louder by the second. How can I be an angel when Satoru fucks me like he’s the god damn devil?

His pace slowly increases and I feel my orgasm works its way to my core. “S—so close.”

Satoru removes his hold from my waist and brings his fingers to his mouth. He wraps his lips around them, before placing them on my clit. The initial shock stuns me, causing my walls to contract. He works with an even pressure, smearing all of my slick around me. The vibrations of his fingers build up inside of me and I can feel my body on the brink of release. He gives one last thrust, knocking down a chair and shaking the table, and I immediately crumble.

My orgasm shoots out from my core, down my legs, and through my toes. I let out a moan but it feels like my cry can be heard from miles away. The pleasure overtakes me and a rush of ecstasy floods my brain. My eyes snap shut, my body tenses, but as my orgasm fades, I wonder if I just died and got railed to heaven.

Satoru falls over me, panting hard to catch his breath. He lifts his head and curls his mouth into a smile. I return his smile with a complementary chuckle.

I slowly prop myself up when suddenly, a voice suddenly emerges from the hallway. “Satoru, you cheeky little bastard. When I said take care of her, I didn’t mean it like that.” Fuck. Suguru.

My mind goes blank and I can’t even move. Satoru’s head perks up as he turns to face Suguru. The air is tense and the silence lingers for far too long. Time slows down and it feels like no one has moved in what feels like hours. As I focus my attention on Suguru, I’m puzzled to see the reaction on his face. I fully expect anger and rage, but it’s…not?

“Hey, I—” Satoru starts.

Suguru lifts up his brow and the side of his mouth twitches into a smirk. “Well, are you going to let me join, or am I just gonna sit here and watch?”

As my eyes widen, Satoru turns his head back towards me. “See angel, I told you he wouldn’t mind sharing.”

Read Part 3 Here

[crescent-blades]

✦•┈ᯓ Rules For making Requests.ᐟ

ʚɞ┆ First off, I would like to clarify that I won't be writing any explicit content; hence, I would appreciate it if such requests are not made. Other than that, you are free to request anything.

ʚɞ┆I also want to mention that I don’t have any triggers, and it’s pretty hard to offend me. So don’t hesitate to share anything—any content that might be sensitive will be labeled accordingly. [Please feel free to reach out if I may have missed anything!]

ʚɞ┆While it may seem obvious, I’ll say it again—please, DO NOT repost, copy, rewrite, or translate any of my work. If you’d like to reference it anywhere (especially regarding theories), please ask for my permission first.

ʚɞ┆Please note that it might take me a while to respond to inboxes. Don’t be discouraged if I haven’t replied to your requests yet; I may have seen them and could be working on a response. My busy schedule makes it challenging to reply quickly. Your patience is deeply appreciated!

ʚɞ┆Finally, this blog is all about keeping things positive and drama-free. Anyone that aims to stir up unnecessary negativity or controversy will be promptly blocked. I genuinely welcome any constructive feedback you may have about me. However, any form of hate will not be accepted.

✦•┈ᯓ Rules For Roleplaying.ᐟ

Firstly, I want to clarify that this isn't solely a roleplay blog. I often receive various requests because I enjoy writing beyond just roleplaying [drabbles, imagines, theories etc etc]. If you have any issues with some ooc content here and there, then you are free to unfollow. Moving on:

ʚɞ┆OCs, crossovers, ships, crack fics, etc.,are all welcome. Feel free to introduce any character you wish to see the samurai interact with, including the possibility of Kokushibō and/or Michikatsu being your chosen muse!

ʚɞ┆The portrayal of my muses will be as canon to the manga as possible. I will make every effort to keep my personal headcanons to a minimum, and I would really appreciate it if my writing partner could do the same.

ʚɞ┆Regarding NSFW; you won’t find any on my blog, nor am I comfortable writing anything explicit. Light shipping, flirting, romance, fluff, or similar interactions are totally fine, but let’s keep it on the softer side.

ʚɞ┆Regarding shipping and relationships; I believe it’s important for the characters to build chemistry and have meaningful interactions first, rather than jumping straight into shipping. I would prefer if we had already written together beforehand and perhaps discussed it in advance.

ʚɞ┆When it comes to violence, blood etc, I'm fine with anything. As I mentioned, I’m open to various themes, but only if the plot calls for it. I won’t tolerate any unnecessary graphic content or spiteful comments directed at my muses.

ʚɞ┆Regarding the length of my writing; I am flexible with pretty much everything, however, I generally enjoy multi-paragraph roleplays. I can adapt to different lengths if needed.

ʚɞ┆Regarding plotting I’m comfortable with either approach. Whether you want to plan out the next steps or prefer the thrill of surprises, I’m totally on board with whatever you choose.

ʚɞ┆You will get what you give. If I find that the you aren't putting in any effort with the replies, I will not be putting any effort either. I find it hard to stay motivated, especially knowing that the other person likely isn't even interested.

ʚɞ┆So, if you ever feel like your interest is waning or you need a break, then please feel free to tell me. The main goal of roleplaying is to have fun. If you decide you want to stop engaging altogether, you’re welcome to soft-block or hard-block.

ʚɞ┆Most importantly, have fun! <3

๋࣭⭑⚝Thank you!๋࣭⭑⚝

[shameshomalo]

HIIIII this is my new pressure OC!!! Her name is Remora :) I’ve been super anxious to share her because I’m worried this’ll get no traction loll but i figured why not Yk? No but really i would really appreciate it if y’all can take a quick gander at it. Much love XX

This is her file, its obtainable by a quest she offers. If y’all can’t read the file lmk and ill post the text under the cut :)

This is her a few months at UrbanShade, she was still very upset about the experiments here. And the pic or her on the right is her fully transformed (still working on her full body ref, pls bear with me 😭)

LOREEEE UNDER THE CUTT XX

I’m gonna try and make this as short as i can so y’all aren’t reading too much but i do have a lot to talk about lolol. Feel free to ask any questions, my inbox is always openXX.

Remora (Aka Lurker, H-576)

BASIC INFO

9’4

31 years old

She has suction sticky pads under her hands and stomach, she will stick to you walls because its fun.

Her jelly bulb radiates colors when feeling certain emotions but most of the time it rests against her head and stays translucent.

Her purpose is to search, retrieve, scout, spy.

She is mixed with:

Sea angel

Gulper Eel

Galacus Atlanticus

Re◼️◼️ ◼️◼️

Sarcastical fringehead

Man o war

Great white shark

◼️◼️◼️◼️◼️◼️

◼️◼️◼️◼️

Lore about her/sebastian

She mostly appears between doors 15-85 and is always a friendly entity unless tirelessly provoked.

Ever wonder why there is just random files and DNA strewn around the facility? That because of Remora! During her time at UrbanShade she was always doing little tasks for the staff members and due to that she gets restless and irritated if she has nothing to do. During the lockdown she encountered Sebastian and decided that she would literally stick to him and as a way to get her to leave him alone he would send her out to collect items for his shop. After awhile this became a habit for the both of them and an alliance was formed!! One time Rem accidentally left a stack of files out and an expendable came across it and carried it with him to use for trading, this sparked an idea sooo irritatingly for Sebastian she would go out of her way to leave assets out to be collected. (Sebastian is NOT happy about it but it keeps her busy and costumers coming through so its an unfortunate win-win)

Encountering Rem mid-run info

Rem has a few rare interactions such as a 50/50 chance of seeing her in Sebastians shop (common). Sometimes she’ll try and gift you an item or files but Sebastian always yells at her not to.

If you encounter her outside of the shop there’s an 75% chance she’ll give you whatever files she has on her at the time (between 80-350 divided equally amongst your group), and a 30% chance she will give you a random item. You almost always get at least one battery.

Her nickname (Lurker) comes from the fact that she will follow you throughout your run, don’t think its cute though, she’s HUGE and always gets in the way of things, mainly you, she always tries and sticks to you, will get mad if you shoo her away. You can catch her peeking at you randomly through windows, vents or cracked doorways.

She does have a quest its common if its the first time you meet but becomes rare if completed/ declined. Since she LOVES searching for things (as per her DNA) she will ask that you hide a certain favorite item of hers in any random spot throughout your run since Sebastian never wants to. That’s it, nothing complex but you get a badge for it (I don’t have a name for it yet, sigh)

Super rare encounters are that she’ll warn you about an entity if she happens to spawn at the same time as another entity

Obtaining her file isn’t necessarily complex but if you complete her quest you will notice a random file Sebastian has to offer you. (You do not get a notification for obtaining this file, the only way to notice it is if you check the files you already own).

OKAYYY SO THATS IT FOR NOWWW I’m working on more lil drawings of Sebas and Remora so pls bear with me as they get uploaded. THANK YOU THANK YOUUU if y’all have made it this Farr i really appreciate and love all of you big smooches to y’all ehe. (Might come back and add more info later we shall see anyways love u guys xoxo)

[hoofpeet]

hi!!! I have a tendency to forget that it’s possible to interact with people online but! i thought I’d let you know that your art has been a huge inspiration to me. Your art style, coloring, characters, and humor are all amazing. I genuinely have never been into ANYTHING pokémon related and I still stuck around and came to love how you portray pokémon characters and your ocs.

it’s funny, when you posted the first “Enjoy What I Couldn’t!” artwork i saved it to my desktop so that I could look at it often… half a year later it occurred to me to just print it off. I’ve bought numerous artists’ prints, but your transgender creatures are the only ones to grace my bedroom wall. I like being able to look at it often…it reminds me of joy and wonder and appreciation and shared differences. It always makes me smile. if you ever open a print shop or something i’ll be your first buyer (I think you said it was okie to print off your art for personal use, but in hindsight I might’ve mixed you up with a different artist. my sincere apologies in that case. Either way, I would certainly be down to buy better quality prints from you)

whether it be doodles or paintings I see a lot of joy and fun in your work! it’s very silly and very sweet. I generally don’t send stuff like this bc I don’t want to be seen as parasocial, but I thought it was important to say thank you! Even should our paths divulge in the future, nothing can change the fact that your art has meant something to me. do whatever you want forever, I wish you green pastures and clear skies!!

feel free to do whatever you want with this message, delete it or whatever. I feel like a elementary school kid writing to their favorite author lol

//Keeping this post saved in my draft folder to look at forever ..

[starflungwaddledee]

Hey star! Me again! How does your starstruck shipganza work? Do we just submit an OC to ship with Starstruck? I'm very much a dumb dumb so I don't know lel

hello boa!! great to hear from you!!

and omg nonono you're not being dumb or anything, i was pretty vague about this previously and only kinda mentioned it off-hand in tags. the idea behind the shipaganza is to help me explore some different dynamics (more or less romantic) with starstruck to see how i feel about shipping her as a whole, and so i was admittedly pretty nervous and wiffle-waffley about it overall.

but if it helps, i am allowing both canon suggestions and OC suggestions for the starstruck dee shipaganza! now that it's a full 'event' i should be more transparent, so here's a few rules!

🎀 any suggested characters must be adults in a suitable age bracket. this goes for OCs and canon characters. consider starstruck dee to be in the 25-35 age range; i think she could smooch into an older bracket, but i would not go younger than this. 🎀 when suggesting OCs, only the creator/owner of the oc can suggest that oc, unless you get clear permission from the creator. if an artist suggests a sona in particular, then for the same reasons as above, i explicitly need the artist to be an adult. 🎀 no nsfw at all. flirty characters are great. bullies are fun (something tonally similar to the marx prompt, for instance). but i have a hard enough time even making the orbs smooch non-platonically; anything else is clearly going to be out of my ballpark. 🎀 very very few of these prompts are going to be considered canon to starstruck's storyline, and i'll specify any that are (such as bandee's). this is even less likely with OCs, though i might be open to that in the future after the event. this event is just for fun and silliness! 🎀 when suggesting OCs, especially if i don't know you or your oc well, please please give me some info about your oc and why you think they'd work. like, would your oc make a move that starstruck fails to notice? are they accidentally dating? do they share an interest? is your oc a hopeless pining romantic, are they a charmer, are they a bully, so on and so fourth! a link to a reference is also good! try to remember starstruck's characterisation when suggesting as well; remember that it's very important that she doesn't get along great with most waddle dees. otherwise i might have a hard time responding to you! 🎀 also... please don't suggest your ocs just because you want me to draw them. i'll likely take more general/platonic oc interaction prompts in the future. please only suggest an oc for this event if you genuinely think you have a fun potential ship dynamic to explore. i am much more likely to draw canon character prompts and ocs from folks who have interacted with me regularly (such as yourself, boa). i'm fairly aware of my regular interactors and of course my mutuals, so i'll be able to tell if people are just popping up out of the woodwork trying to get free art out of me.

i hope this helps a little and i appreciate your interest!

this sounds like a lot of rules, but it's mostly just things to keep in mind. i'm more flexible with canon character recommendations because there's a bit more to navigate and get right when it comes to OCs, but i'm none the less willing to ty it out! hopefully it's just something fun and silly i can share with folks to celebrate the month!

[random-chaos-and-stuff]

Wow, this one came out fast, but I felt I needed to make her after mentioning her in my last post. This is my fifth Wings of Fire OC, Cactus, a young Sandwing/Leafwing hybrid!

She is a bit more simplistic and not as cleaned up, but I also made her pretty fast, and she is only a kid. First one that is not just standing though!

As always, lore and backstory, abilities, the no background version and the outline, and the generation sheet I used for her are all under the cut!

Cactus is a young, playful dragonet. She loves to play with others, with her playful nature having resulted in her being stereotyped by some as rather stupid, but in all reality she is actually a rather clever dragonet. Anyone who actually has interacted with her knows that she is clever, and loves to learn constantly, and will happily listen to any stories people are willing to share with her. Despite all of this, she does know about those stereotypes of her being slightly stupid, and they make her feel a bit insecure at times. She loves to hang out with her friends, especially since the poisonwings and the sapwings joined back together as the Leafwings. She herself is a hybrid, with a Sandwing mother and a Leafwing father. She would often be brought between their homes, as the family visits both on occasion, though they have now mostly settled in Pantala in the new growth jungle. She has her mother’s tail barb, and weak leafspeak, barely more than a good green thumb. But, as a gift from a fellow hybrid, who happened to be an animus, she enchanted her with a new special ability. Hemlock (who despite their age difference she insists is her best friend, with Hemlock having reluctantly agreed, but grown fond of her) gave her the ability to control sand, in a similar manner to Leafwings with leafspeak, manipulating it into shapes and structures as she pleases. She mostly just uses it for playing games currently, and loves it a huge amount, always happy to show it off or use it in a game of some sort. She was also more recently given another gift, a tiny pouch she wears around her neck that holds an unlimited amount of water within it and never runs out, which Cactus mostly uses when traveling with her father to the desert with her mother, as Leafwings can’t last as long without water as Sandwings. She also uses it to help water her plants. 

I’m pretty proud of her, and I will admit, I color picked almost all of her colors from an actual cactus! She was really fun to draw, because her more rounded and childish shape as well as her hybrid nature made her really fun to play around with, and her pose was fun to figure out too! I referenced drawings of Sunny more than actual normal Sandwings, because I wanted her to look young and sweet instead of standing there looking mean. I originally wanted to draw her playing more actively, but couldn’t find a reference that quite fit right, so instead I went with this.

As I have promised, here are the no background version and the outline! I included the versions with and without the sand, because those were part of the original drawing.

No sand:

And with sand:

I think she turned out pretty good all things considered.

And finally, as promised, the generation sheet. I didn’t create this sheet, and all credit for it goes to HoneyBeest for the creation of it. I swear by it, because it’s really fun to make OC’s with, and can help you with art block or figuring out what to draw.

And like all of these guys so far, she is free to use (drawing writing whatever) as long as you give me credit. Please don’t repost on other websites without credit, but reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[viceroywrites]

dropping another gravity falls oc!

my other gf oc can be found here

art credit to mischa-makowka / link to picrew here

name: celeste harvey

age: 25 during the 80s / 55 in present day gravity falls

notable features: has multiple piercings (double lobes, helix & nose ring), has naturally blonde hair but dyed it black - ended up dying it ash gray around age 40, has heterochromia (right eye is green, left eye is brown)

backstory:

works as an embalmer at the valentino funeral home

had brief interactions with ford during his time researching gravity falls - he saw her in passing when he would run errands in town or go to the diner to write in his journal, theorized that she might be a vampire.

met stan in the 80s - she discovered his secret as she was working as a mortician apprentice under robbie's grandparents when he tried to arrange his own funeral & broke down while looking at headstones.

comforted him to the point where he ended spilling his guts to her as she was the first person that had listened and showed him care in years.

didn't question stan's story about the portal, had her own conspiracy theories about what ford was researching anyways.

helped stan occasionally steal chemicals and materials he needed for the portal throughout the years.

relationship with characters:

annoying older brother/younger sister dynamic with stan - they bicker over trivial shit all the time, make stupid bets, have surprisingly a lot of existential conversations about death. she got stan into taxidermy and she'll occasionally contribute a taxidermy piece for him to use for the mystery shack. they try to one up each other during summerween on who can scare the most kids.

uses this video as blackmail against stan all the time (you probably already know what it is before clicking on it)

is like a cool aunt to robbie - helped watch him growing up, dyed his hair black for the first time and taught him how to do his eyeliner. she sewed on the heart patch on his black hoodie and has one of her own on her leather jacket.

mabel initially assumes that celeste and stan have a thing going on and attempts to match make them. celeste appreciates mabel's moxie and free spiritedness, teaches her how to sew patches after mabel compliments the patches on celeste's leather jacket.

dipper kinda avoids her at first bc she's pretty much robbie's family and wonders if she hates him as much as the moody teen does since he has a crush on wendy. they get closer after the events of scaryoke, coming up with the zombie cure (a lot of formaldehyde and cinnamon) together. the two bond over their shared interest in ghost hunting.

acts as a positive female figure in wendy's life even after her and robbie break up, lets wendy come over to her place vent about high school and growing up in a household full of boys.

relationship with ford:

so. like i mentioned, ford had a theory back in the day that she might be a vampire.

there's a entry about her in journal 1 which obviously stan owned. he showed the journal entry to her ("hey, you made a cameo in sixer's journal, he thought you were a vampire.") and she felt... kinda flattered.

she has conflicted feelings about ford, feeling that his dismissal of stanley's rough life after getting kicked out was a bit harsh. she tries to give him the benefit of the doubt though, knowing how badly stan wants to reunite with his brother.

all bets are off when she finds out ford's first reaction to his brother bringing him back was to punch him in the face.

she lays into ford the moment she meets him, stan holding her back from returning the favor with a punch of her own and he's flabbergasted at this complete stranger standing up to him and fuming that stan told another person about the portal... but can't help but be intrigued.

one, her heterochromia is fascinating from a scientific standpoint, mesmerized by her eyes even as she was berating him.

two, it's very rare that someone has called him out on his shit, not sugar-coating it at all. he had to admit while she may have biased points in her argument due to her apparent close relationship with his brother, she had some valid points.

it takes celeste some time to warm up to ford afterwards, she still holds a grudge

celeste visits the shack during roadside attraction, only to find that ford is the only one home - potential story for another day of how they got closer but he realizes she's the vampire girl from journal 1.

[pruneunfair]

Remarried empress OC: Camilla Labelle.

"I don't hate you your majesty, if I did I wouldn't make it so obvious."

(Camilla has nothing to do with the fanfic Au, she's a part of the more cannon story remarried empress.)

Camilla was a Marchioness and former actress who first served as one of Naviers lady in waiting before resigning that position to work for Rashta.

She can come off as self absorbed and haughty due to her love for attention but she still does her duties well and brought good publicity to the imperial family. While she would rather not be a lady in waiting her parents already pressured her to quit acting in order to get on good terms with the Emperor so she isn't able to go back the theatre due the contract being broken but she still can make small performances for royal plays and even balls.

Her relationship with Navier is purely neutral. Camilla isn't as involved in whatever is unnecessary for her to care about in Naviers day-to-day life since she sees it as extra exhaustion. She didn't really care that much when Sovieshu found a mistress as much as the other ladies since Laura and Eliza were already doing the job of being upset for Navier and she expected it to happen anyway. At first, Camilla only silently supported Rashta cause she couldn't view her as anything beyond a nuisance but after a few interactions she was amazed with how much she had in common for the hated concubine. Rashta appreciated her talent for acting and was a little audience for the private shows Camilla would perform usually by herself to remember the good ol days.

When Camilla eventually learns from the other noblewomen that Sovieshu commanded Navier to look for ladies in waiting for Rashta, she makes the risky decision of resigning as one of Naviers ladies in waiting along with Viscountess Verdi to join Rashta. This naturally causes some suspicions on why Camilla would leave so suddenly for a concubine and her simple "I didn't think I could serve the empress well." Wasn't cutting it, a lot of the women silently criticized her but beyond that, it was relatively peaceful since Navier wouldn't allow it to be such a fuss.

From then on Camilla and Rashta grow to be close friends. It's from Rashtas little cracks of her trauma and the knowledge Sovieshu was willing to share that allowed such understanding and Camilla gained some reputation for herself when she started to publicly support the commoners with free of charge shows in town Square and actively protesting against slavery. It put her in the center of the crowd which was what Camilla loved most, being the center of it all. For Rashta there was now another reason to keep Camilla close, she didn't mind being the center of rumors even if they were negative, boosting their friendship further.

What did end up causing problems was Camilla actively defending Rashta. It wasn't always out of actual care at first, only because she liked the idea of being the devils advocate, to get attention no matter what even if it was damning her, her only shows nowadays were all for the commoners so why should she care about how a few nobles feel when she plays into the role they came up with for her: an evil vain former actress who's just jealous of Navier for being the new star of the show and sided with Rashta to rub Naviers failing relationships in her face. In reality, Camilla has no real animosity against Navier, it's just the thrill that comes with being the devils advocate.

She doesn't really trust Duke Ergi, as an actress she can tell when someone is feigning their loyalty even if they try to hide it. But Camilla is already treading dangerous ground with many of the Naviers remaining supporters in the east, the last thing she needs to make enemies with a foreign Duke. She ends up making the biggest mistake of her life to let Rashta trust him.

When Rashta becomes empress, Camilla naturally became one of her biggest supporters and Rashta spent a great deal of money to buy her most trusted lady in waiting her very own theatre to act and sing in as much as she desired. There are times when Camilla will go along with Rashtas schemes to keep her new life afloat and there are times when they argue when Rashta goes too far but even if Rashta had thoughts about having Camilla killed, it'd be hard to easily get away with having a famous noble like Camilla killed without suspicion, especially after Delices dissapearance.

it was during the trial where everything fell apart. No matter how much Camilla tried to claim it was all her or how much she claimed Rashtas innocence her best friend is deposwd and dragged away to be imprisoned forever and as punishment for her role as an active accomplice, Camilla is stripped of her title as a Marchioness, her theatre is sold and instead of imprisoning her, Sovieshu let's her out with nothing since she was only found to assist Rashta in more minor crimes.

Camilla knows she's in danger now. What's the point of being free if everyone hates you? The reputation as one of Naviers enemies she allowed to be built for her has consequences and for making herself out as someone who wants Navier dead. She knows it's only a matter of time before she's captured and sent to the west. She's heard the horror stories of those who wrong Navier being sent away in a crimson tower never to be seen again and that thought shook her to her very core. Camilla escapes.. but not before finding the chance to come across a royal carriage.. she steals it, drives off as fast she can before the guards catch up and she fakes her and Gloryms deaths when she made it look like a accident.

With new identities, as Anne and Motte. Camilla raises the child far away from the world as her Aunt. Always telling Glorym that she should never call her mom because it would disrespect Rashtas memory. Over the years Camilla gives Glorym an over sanitized story of Rashta which causes tension when Glorym goes out into the world and discovers her mother wasn't so perfect after all. They argue more when Glorym was older, all about how Camilla was a liar and how Rashta was the worst women alive..

They do come to a conclusion. Rashta wasn't a pure angel but she wasn't the worst woman to ever exist, she was a human who made poor decisions and could've made better ones. That's why Glorym should take advantage of the life that her mother and aunt gave up everything for her now. Because Glorym now has the resources and the ability to make her own decisions, it's what Rashta would've always wanted, for her daughter to be better than she was.

In the end when it's discovered that Glorym may not be illegitimate, she is rushed to the heir position before Lari could but given more time to prepare herself with the help of her possible father, she wouldn't tell him she may not be his daughter if there was a chance she could be empress. The first empress of the east to rule in her own right mind you. Her plan is to eliminate anymore chances of people ending up like her mother. To do that is to abolish slavery once and for all.

She offered Camilla the choice to re-enter noble society once she became empress but Camilla declined. Her reputation is already known as Rashtas right hand woman and Glorym already has to deal with being doubted still as legitimate. It'd be best not to add fuel to the fire.

[joy-eris-joy]

Hello! My name is Joy Eris, but please call me Joy!

This is just my blog for whatever hyperfixation captures my attention at the moment, so expect my fandoms to always be in flux.

Be respectful and we'll get along fine!

I’m a Lutual too, which means I run way too many RP blogs. Check them out!

Lutualverse OC Accounts

@exorcist-ava 🚬

@seraphim-sarai 🦢

@seraphim-adina 🐇

@exorcist-milan420 💥

@prince-pruflas 👑

@lost-rin 🪶

@lost-elam 🦣

@archangel-michael-of-heaven ⚔️

@sinner-xiao 🐶

Lutualverse Canon Character Accounts

@ask-modeus 💙❤️‍🔥

@ask-king-paimon ✨🦉

@ask-keekee 🐈‍⬛🗝️

NRWE (Non-Canon Reality Warping Entity) Accounts

@ask-peter 🏡 @ask-daria-morgendorffer 🤓 @the-burglar-from-sims-1 💰

@joyer-is-joy 😈

Lutual Statement

After a pretty rough week with a lot going on, the Lutuals have decided that moving forward we will be a bit more selective regarding certain things. We love sharing our characters and developing new and interesting storylines for people to read and interact with and want to continue doing so while protecting ourselves and our mental health. Please see below on the things we expect moving forward.

Asks, anon or not, will be deleted on sight and the sender blocked if they fall into any of the following categories:

NSFW - finding the characters hot is fine! Telling the mods what you want to do to those characters sexually is not!

Violence - show typical violence may be part of storylines or backstory to inform characterization! Graphically describing violence you would like to see done to the characters doesn’t! To vent frustrations with characters, please throw a bible at them; the mods will get the message just fine.

Hate Speech - the Lutualverse is a fun spinoff of the Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss settings and isn’t the place for social or political commentary. We’re just here for the various shades of queer relationships; if you’re not, kindly move along.

Spam - many Lutuals utilize their queues for asks and submissions; if you sent it once, we probably got it and will answer asks and post submissions in due time. Sending more than once will just confuse Tumblr and annoy the mod.

To better form a cohesive, consistent universe with multiple storylines, the current Lutualverse is a set roster you can find here, all of whom have been vetted as 18+. As the blogs, storylines, and shows are 18+, it is recommended that minors do not interact. We are not accepting applications at this time to join the Lutualverse, though individual mods may respond to starters at their discretion; these events will not be canon to the universe.

It has also come to our attention that some blogs are claiming to be part of the Lutualverse despite not being official members.

While we appreciate that people enjoy our work, we DO NOT appreciate being impersonated or having unaffiliated members claiming to be part of our canon.

At the time of writing, the ONLY Lutuals are as follows:

@joyerisjoy

@able-juice

@silvireal

@texanredrose

@kambiteydragon

@moreaustars

@hazbin-hoe-tell

@canibalistic-brownie

@greybazzy

@seecatrun

@pseudobun

@atttwoood

@paperroxas

Any new blogs or members will be announced by ONE OF US and will be LISTED on the Lutuals roster.

Any unaffiliated users claiming to be part of our verse WILL BE BLOCKED.

Again, we would like to stress that we enjoy the interaction and support. This is to protect us and better craft compelling stories. Thank you for your understanding.

-The Lutuals

My commissions are always open, so feel free to DM any time about them!

If you like what I do, consider supporting me on my Ko-Fi!

Any amount is appreciated!

[askbabblong]

Hiya!

I'm here to share my stories! I'll accept questions if you're willing to listen to a guy too, y'know y'know? Speaking of listening, my uncle Murphy is the best listener! He'd always sit there when...

[We cut him short to avoid you being here all day. Anyways, feel free to throw him an ask!]

...Hello, owner of the blog! And as far as i know at the moment the sole mod. This may be infrequent depending on the day but I'll do my best to answer all i can! (>u<)/+☆°♡

Why did you make this blog?

Babblong's one of my favorite yokai, and I can't ever seem to find enough appreciation or fanart for him! Might as well make it myself yknow?

Are there any rules?

Yep, not too many tho!

No NSFW

Magic Anon aka M/A is accepted, just don't go overboard!

Please don't force a ship onto my blog. You can ask questions about his feelings on anyone and can absolutely interact with your OC, but I have my own headcanons.

You may request a doodle if you'd like!

Can you ask as a specific character?

Yep! Make sure you specify who if so ahsjfjrkr if it's an oc, a picture or tag on a post of yours would be appreciated (=^ェ^=)

Anything else you wanna say?

●This blog is mainly ran on my interpretation of him! That and I haven't roleplayed in a long while, so don't mind if things are out of character wahaha (ヽ´ω`).

●If you're wondering about timeline, this takes place in a little combination of the game and the anime. Probably not canon compliant? We'll see ajxkdlf

●You can call me Yomo or Yōmakai! If you just wanna refer to me as 'the mod of that one babblong blog' that works too lolol

●Most of my responses will be goofy. Some might have a little drawing attached but I am Lazy so who knoes?

●PLEASE don't send me things relating to a k1nk or f《tish even if it's not explicitly stated as such. That goes into NSFW but some people think it doesn't count bc it's not balantly obvious aughhhhh

That's about all, have fun!