#if it all smells gross and i have to wash it again its over for me I'm walking into the abyss

[sundropclouds]

Screaming and crying and suffering and <- my clean laundry is in the washing machine and the bathroom door is locked

[chamomileteainabuttercup]

The thing about Eddie is that he’ll do things on impulse, often in a moment of unearned confidence and optimism.  Which is why last year he ordered a gross of Hellfire Club teeshirts.  One, he thought the word gross was both funny and appropriate, and two, he was sure at the time that the club would really catch on and grow like wildfire, so he’d need a lot.  Besides, they were cheaper by the dozen.

Which is why he still has over a hundred shirts in cardboard boxes under his bed.  Steve found them when he was searching for the lip balm stick he dropped on the floor when Eddie tackled him just for fun, and Eddie had to explain, and he felt sort of foolish about it.

“But they don’t all go to waste,” he said quickly.  “I’ve got so many I can wear one to school every day.  Promoting the club.” 

“Oh thank God,” said Steve.  “It wasn’t the same one all the time.  I used to think you must smell so bad, if you never washed it.”

“I guess at least you were thinking about me,” Eddie said, slightly miffed. 

“You were like a cartoon character always in the same outfit,” Steve mused, with a look of fond reminiscence.

“All that time I was suppressing my raging crush on you, and you were thinking I was like a smelly cartoon character?”

“A cute smelly cartoon character,” Steve assured him.  “I always noticed you were cute.  I just didn’t have the guts to do anything about it back then.  And hey!  I can help promote your club now.”  He pulled his polo shirt off over his head, causing a sudden bump in Eddie’s heart rate, then pulled on a Hellfire shirt.  “There we go,” he said, tugging it down and pushing a hand through his rumpled hair to restore it to its former glory.  “How’s it look?”

Eddie tackled him again, but with lips and tongue this time. 

[voxofthevoid]

We continue to be in goyuuland with Demon/Hunter Horror Wednesday #10. Sukuna will pop back up in the next chapter, though I'm not sure what the next snippet will be.

The fic is now 90.5k, and I just finished Chapter 13—unlucky or not, it's my favorite chapter so far 😂

It's 9k total and just one big goyuu date, featuring 7 scenes that are basically Gojou flirting like a demon (hah) and Yuuji setting the new world record in obliviousness—until he can't, of course. This week's snippet is the final scene, and it's longer than these posts usually are because I didn't really feel like breaking it up.

Enjoy the extra 300 words?

“Nice house,” Gojou says, looking around the living room with unabashed interest. “You live with your parents?”

“No, my…guardian. He’s not here.”

“And he won’t mind you bringing home strange men?”

“Um.” Nanami will definitely mind, won’t he? Sure, he said Yuuji could bring friends around any time, but Gojou’s not exactly that. He’s not even a classmate. “It’s fine. Probably. I mean, you’re technically not a stranger anymore, and you know Tōji-san, so—yeah, it’ll be fine.”

Gojou chuckles. “If you say so. I promise not to steal his book collection.”

“Yeah, please don’t. Nanami will kill me.”

Gojou strides toward said book collection; he’s taller than the bookshelf. “I’m sure he’s more fond of you than these very dry books.”

“They’re not that bad!”

“Have you read any?”

“None of those, no,” Yuuji admits. “But I’m sure Nanami likes them for a reason.”

“What a cute little ward,” Gojou croons, turning around to look at Yuuji. “Nanami’s so lucky. Megumi wasn’t this nearly this sweet when he was in my custody.”

“…Fushiguro was in your custody?”

“For an entire year,” Gojou confirms. “His daddy earned himself a little time-out. I only obliged.”

“Huh.” Yuuji tries to picture Gojou taking care of Fushiguro—and fails. “Is that why Fushiguro doesn’t like you?

Gojou pouts. “Mean.”

“Uh, sorry, I just meant—”

“I know, I know.” Gojou waves a dismissive hand, before parking it on his hip. “Now, are you going to entertain me as promised, or are we going to stand here talking about other men all night?”

Yuuji gapes at him. “You’re the one who—never mind. Just wait here. I’ll go get the laptop. And change out of these clothes. There’s a bathroom over there too, if you wanna piss or something.”

“Charmer,” Gojou chortles, but he does walk over there.

Yuuji waits for him to vanish into the bathroom before heading upstairs, taking the stairs two at a time. He strips the second he’s inside the bedroom, wincing at the grass stains on Nanami’s turtleneck. He rushes into the en suite and drapes it over the hamper so he’ll remember to wash it and return it to its rightful place.

Then he makes his way to the mirror.

The bruises on his throat are almost gone. There are still smears of red and purple, but it’s not the violent mess that was circling his entire throat when he woke up Saturday morning. The distinct imprint of long, wicked fingers is also gone.

Yuuji sighs in pure relief. He really doesn’t want to raid Nanami’s closet again. It’s so invasive.

Next time Sukuna goes for his throat, Yuuji will bite his fucking fingers off. They’ll grow back anyway.

He gives his back a perfunctory check before turning away. It’s all scabbed over, the shallower parts already healed. They pull on his skin a little, but Yuuji’s got plenty of practice ignoring that.

He does his business and risks a quick shower. He even brushes his teeth.

It’s a little ridiculous, It’s not like Gojou will be fresh or anything. He also spent the whole day just like Yuuji, walking under the sun and hiking through the forest. Still, the thought of sitting on the couch downstairs and watching his new favorite movie with Gojou makes him want to be clean. At least he doesn’t want to be all sticky and gross.

He won’t mind if Gojou smells a little though. Yuuji caught a few whiffs of his scent throughout the day. It was…nice. Some cologne, definitely, but just sweat and something else under that—something both sharp and sweet.

In the mirror, his face grows red.

Yuuji slaps his cheeks. “What the hell am I doing?”

He pulls on some of his own clothes and grabs his laptop before making his way back downstairs. He finds Gojou lying on the couch, that long body taking up the entire length of it and then spilling over, both feet and parts of the calves dangling over one side. Gojou’s got an arm folded under his head and the other holding his phone up. His mouth is one flat line.

“Hey,” Yuuji greets. “I’m back.”

“So you are.” The phone vanishes in a flick of the wrist, and Yuuji spends a good few seconds trying to figure out whether Gojou stashed it between his body and the couch or just slipped it up his sleeve like some wannabe magician. Then Gojou folds that arm under his head too, staring expectantly at Yuuji. “Go on. Entertain me.”

Yuuji rolls his eyes. “Yes, my lord.”

“He learns so fast,” Gojou simpers.

Yuuji ignores him, instead busying himself connecting the laptop to the TV.

“Done!” Yuuji declares. “I’ll go get some soda. Any flavor you like?”

“I’m a simple man,” Gojou says, his head tilted in Yuuji’s direction. “Give me some coke and I’ll be happy.”

“Comin’ right up!”

Gojou’s still stretched out supinely on the couch when Yuuji comes back with the drinks.

“Don’t have any popcorn,” Yuuji tells him, setting the cans down on the coffee table. “Got some chips though, if you’re hungry.”

“Mmm, not yet.”

“Yeah, same. I’ll make dinner after the movie then.”

“What a good host,” Gojou says, and unlike the things he said earlier, this doesn’t sound mocking or even teasing. “Do you like feeding people, Yuuji-kun?”

“Eh? Why would you ask that?”

“You cooked for us all yesterday, even though you were a guest in that house. And I had to practically fight you off for cooking rights in the morning, didn’t I?”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“Now here you are again,” Gojou continues as if Yuuji didn’t speak, “trying to feed me. You can see why I’m curious.”

Yuuji rocks back on his heels, considering it. “Sure, I guess. It’s not a passion or anything, but I’m good at cooking, and I like it when people enjoy my food. That’s natural, isn’t it?”

“It is and it isn’t,” Gojou says agreeably. “But I do love a man who loves to please.”

Yuuji blinks. “Cool. C’mon then, let’s start.”

“Alright.”

Yuuji waits. Gojou doesn’t move.

“Gojou-san,” he says very patiently, “make room for me.”

Gojou looks down the length of his body, as if he doesn’t know it’s taking up the whole couch and then some. He unfolds his arms from under his head, plucking off his sunglasses—and tossing it at Yuuji.

“Woah!” Yuuji catches it, setting it carefully down on the coffee table. When he straightens up, Gojou’s still on his back, his arms now folded on his stomach; his eyes are heavy-lidded, like he’s about to take a nap. “Gojou-san.”

Gojou holds out an arm.

For a moment, Yuuji just stares incredulously at it. Then he sighs and marches over, grabbing the hand to pull Gojou up.

He’s pulled down.

Yuuji goes down hard, not even remotely prepared. He crashes into Gojou’s chest face-first, one hand still tangled with Gojou’s and the other planted on something firm but yielding. The shape is very…distinct.

He raises his burning face. “What are you—”

His voice withers in his throat at the expression on Gojou’s face. The lazy curve of his mouth, the low sweep of his lashes. And, worse, the eyes—all that blue grown dark and devouring.

Yuuji’s seen a near mirror of this expression on another face, broader and darker and red-eyed.

“Caught you,” Gojou murmurs.

The hand not clutching Yuuji’s coming to rest on the small of his back—on bare skin exposed by the sudden fall. Gojou doesn’t hesitate on finding skin instead of fabric. His hand creeps further up, blazing warmth along Yuuji’s spine.

Yuuji shudders violently, his fingers digging into Gojou’s chest—into the thick swell of a pec, its shape and size branding Yuuji’s fingers despite the sweater covering it.

Gojou doesn’t seem to mind. His smile grows wider, flashing a hint of canine. His eyes are still heavy and hot.

“Gojou-san,” Yuuji rasps, the name scraping his throat. Nothing else comes out.

“Yuuji-kun,” Gojou returns, almost as low and nowhere near as rough. “What should I do, now that I’ve caught you?”

His hands answer before Yuuji can, the one on his back creeping along his side to splay over his stomach, all fingers spread wide; the muscles there convulse so violently that Yuuji feels it in his spine—and his cock, hyperaware of how close that hand is to it. Gojou’s other hand extricates itself from Yuuji’s death grip to cup his face, the thumb resting on his lower lip.

Yuuji gets a lot of clues all at once, growing dizzy with it.

“You look scared,” Gojou says softly, and the shape of his mouth around those words isn’t mean, but it’s not kind either. “Don’t worry. I’ll be very gentle.”

Gentle—

“I won’t,” Yuuji gasps, frost burning through the fire in his veins. “I can’t—”

He only means to shove himself off Gojou, but his newly freed hand finds air instead of flesh or upholstery, and down he goes, the world flipping in a riot of color and motion.

The floor meets him gently.

Yuuji’s vision resolves into blue, then white, then an expression that’s blank-eyed scrutiny.

Gojou’s hand flexes under Yuuji’s head, still holding it a few centimeters off the floor. His other hand is under Yuuji’s back, keeping his hips lifted. His knees are parked between Yuuji’s awkwardly splayed legs.

He looks a light breeze away from collapsing on Yuuji.

Yuuji reaches up to grip those broad shoulders. Some of Gojou’s weight sinks into his bones.

Gojou blinks, for the first time since Yuuji opened his eyes.

He says, “You could’ve just said no.”

“…What?”

“I wouldn’t have forced you.”

“What—” It strikes Yuuji then, what his frantic attempt to get away must have looked like. “No, that’s not—I wasn’t—”

“It’s alright,” Gojou says mildly. “Let’s get you up.”

“Wait!”

Gojou waits. Maybe Yuuji doesn’t give him much of a choice, gripping his shoulders with all the strength he dares. If it hurts, Gojou doesn’t show it, but he does lay Yuuji’s head down, still cushioning it with a splayed palm.

“You said you’ll be gentle,” Yuuji hears himself say. “I won’t. I don’t know how.”

Gojou’s eyes widen, their blue a violently swirl around depthless pupils.

Yuuji almost wants to take it back. But he can’t. Gojou doesn’t deserve that.

Yuuji’s kissed people before Sukuna. It was clumsy and harmless. Gentle enough. But those memories feel like they belong to someone else. When Yuuji pictures putting his mouth on flesh, he’s always biting.

The rest of it is worse.

“Ah,” Gojou says quietly. “I understand.”

“I—” It comes out like a laugh, but Yuuji’s not laughing, he’s really not. “I don’t think you do.”

“Maybe.” Gojou dips his head, the tips of his hair brushing Yuuji’s forehead. Soft fire, burning and branding. “But I could.”

“Gojou-san…”

“Shall I teach you, Yuuji,” Gojou breathes, every word bursting open on Yuuji’s lips, “how to be gentle?”

[ino-takumas-baggy-sweater]

The Blessing To Your Curse - Part 3 (Ryomen Sukuna x Reader)

Hoo boy this one is a doozy, I hope you're ready because shits about to go downhill uphill and all around lmaoo. I'll try to be more consistent with this series, I'm trying to split my time evenly between this, the royal au, and just doing oneshots but it's gonna be hard with uni starting up again in a few days

Part 2 here

Warnings: blood, gore, descriptions of death, descriptions of self harm

Word Count: 3.9k

“YUJI!”

“NANAMI!”

“ANYONE?!”

You knew it was dangerous to intentionally draw attention to yourself, but you called out for aid nonetheless. You’d reluctantly split off from the group to distract a first grade, being left alone with it before you could blink, and now you’re curled up against a wall while pressing a hand below your ribcage and desperately reaching into the well of your energy to patch the wound. It hadn’t gone horribly wrong, but you couldn’t deny that it hurt like a bitch and you were already tired.

Perhaps there was some remnant of the physical weakness you possessed in your past life after all, some chronic illness that chased you beyond death and rebirth.

“Motherfucker,” You growl, ripping at the side of your shirt to expose more of the wound to your eyes, feeling the skin stitch together as you hiss profanities through your teeth. After purging it of the last of the cursed blood you had been coated with during the fight, it seals up and you slump back, the patch of skin tingling with remnant energy.

Gotta get moving, find Yuji again. You push yourself to your feet, repeating these words as your nails scrape the wall and your hand drags past neon screens and through trails of the gross purple blood. You’re trying not to put weight on your ankle, which twisted in an awkward fall while fighting the first grade, but deciding you can’t afford to lose more time you push on until you reach a set of stairs.

Residuals of cursed energy leak up through the air in your direction, one trace you recognise to be Yuji’s, and a second trace, this one stronger, more potent and reeking of blood. You scrunch your nose at the tangy smell, forcing your feet to take you down the stairs where you find yourself amongst the remnants of a fight. “Yuji?” You call out, coughing slightly as a hint of smoke pierces the air.

You make it further down the hallway when you hear voices, and suddenly a wave of malice washes over you, forcing you to your knees. “I’ll give you one second,” You hear his voice around the next corner and crawl to press your back against the wall, making yourself as small as possible, “Move,” Heavy breathing near you catches your attention and you finally notice the two girls in an alcove across from you.

You press your hand to your mouth as they stare at an unknown figure that you’re now almost certain is Sukuna, the special grade curse that moves to stand at their side equally terrified but trying not to let it show. They’re like statues, and Sukuna’s footsteps ring out in the still air like shots from a pellet gun. Your eyes travel to the figure walking towards them and away from you, its Sukuna alright, his face stoic and empty of emotion as he approaches the group of three.

“You hold your heads quite high,” He rumbles, brushing the pink hair up from his forehead, and you watch as he takes a chunk off the top of the special grade’s head with a single thought, missing the two girls because they duck far enough to the ground. Smart girls, you think to yourself in passing, perhaps I should step in and save them.

He may be amicable now, but you know he can turn on a dime at any second. “Did you believe taking one knee would be enough? The boughs that bear most hang lowest, yes? But I guess you guys are pretty lightweight,” He looks to the girls, “You kids first, you wanted…” He trails off, his head angling slightly towards you and you see his nose twitch before he turns and you meet his ruby red gaze, “What have we here?”

Your heart is thumping practically through your chest as you drop your hand from your mouth, taking low deep breaths to try and calm yourself, “My lord,” You murmur, his power overwhelming you into submission. He’s in front of you in an instant, but you can see his unwillingness to bend down and assist you in front of an audience.

You hear a protestation in your mind at your term of address and you relax your shoulders, pressing yourself against the wall awkwardly to pull yourself to your feet, “Sukuna,” You murmur, low enough so as you cast your gaze over his shoulder at the special grade you know they cannot hear you, “Forgive me, I tried to find Yuji before anything could happen,”

He shakes his head, “No matter, I have business with these three anyway,” He looks over his shoulder, following your gaze, but you place a hand out of sight over where Yuji’s heart lies. “Spare the girls,” You whisper, looking away, “For my sake. Let me fulfil their demands,” He lets out a bark of a laugh, catching you off guard a little, “Will that leave you strong enough for what I need?”

You look back into his eyes, see the flash of concern passing through his gaze and his hand hovers over yours for a moment, the twinge in your ankle disappearing in an instant. “I will be,” You steel yourself, dropping your hand back to your side, “For you,”

After a moment of gazing into your eyes he turns and walks back to the girls, “What did you want to ask? I’ll grant you a finger’s worth of time,” He inspects his nails and then brushes them on the front of the supremely fucked up jacket that almost barely covers his torso at this point, allowing you a glimpse of the tattoos on his back, “Now talk,”

One of the girls, the mousy brunette, glances up at you for just a second, letting you see the tear tracks running down her cheeks as she speaks, “Below us, there’s a man in monks robes, with stitches across his forehead,” She mumbles. You flinch and look away, you know exactly who she speaks of, and it’s the man who’s been haunting your prophetic dreams since you were a child.

You knew through your time at Jujutsu High that Suguru Geto would turn his back, and after his death you thought it was over, but things are never that simple. “Please, kill him,” Sukuna glances back at you and you can feel his essence behind your eyelids as his manifestation enters your mind, “Is the roleplaying monk the one you dream of?” You nod, digging your fingernails into your palm as the other hand clutches at your chest.

You feel rather than see him roll his eyes as he breaks eye contact, “What an asshole,” He grunts, turning back to the girls. “And also, please free Geto,” The other girl whimpers, making your eyes water. You can still sense Geto beyond death, he may not be strong enough to free himself, and you know someone like Sukuna or Gojo or Yuta could, but Gojo is nothing but a liability when it comes to his former best friend.

“We know the location of one other finger-“ “Quit whining,” Sukuna snaps, and both girls are silent as mice, “Did you think a measly one or two fingers would grant you the right to order me around?” He pouts slightly, “How insulting, you’re lucky my queen is present, or I’d have your heads where you kneel,”

He regards them with a look you can only describe as voracious and then nudges the dark haired girl’s forehead with the toe of his shoe. She keeps her eyes firmly shut as her head is forced into a more upright position, her face turned up towards his, “You see her standing there?” He asks quietly.

The girl opens her eyes and locks them onto yours though you’re quite sure she cannot see you through the veil of her tears. “She’s the only reason the two of you are still alive, if I were you I’d be thankful and go to her before I change my mind,” His tone is mocking, he’s enjoying this, and some small part of you is too.

But you barely have a chance to protest before they’re stumbling to their feet, heads still bowed, and they’re by your side in an instant, tucking themselves behind you so you stand between them and your ferocious lover. “If you wish for them to live that badly then get them out of here, it’s about to get… a little hot,” His voice rings through your mind and you turn obediently, looking between the girls for a moment.

They appear to be equally as afraid of you as they are of Sukuna, and you have a fleeting memory pass through your mind of seeing them with Geto before the Night parade of a Hundred Demons. “Come on,” You say flatly, “It’s not going to be safe here much longer,” Not that you can claim it ever was safe for anyone but you, putting you between Sukuna’s technique and them doesn’t change a thing because his technique can’t hurt you, but you’re not going to tell them that and shatter their hope.

“Geto will die,” You murmur as you nudge them in front of you, “I have seen it,” Again, you’re not going to tell them how much time there is until the day comes, but you want to at least reassure them that something will happen. “How do you know?” The mousy brunette looks back at you and you stop walking, having made it far enough down the hallway that you would no longer see Sukuna if you were to look over your shoulder.

You meet her gaze, blinking slowly, “And why would I reveal that? What have you done besides demand from my king?” She flinches as if remembering who you are to him, “What are your names?” “Nanako,” The one who spoke murmurs. “Mimiko,” The other adds quickly, “We’re sorry, please, we thought maybe if we helped him then he would help us, he’s so strong that surely killing Geto would be nothing for him,”

You let Mimiko finish her little spiel before pushing between them and continuing to walk, remaining quiet. They don’t follow for a moment before deciding you’re the lesser of two evils and then catching up to you. “You never make requests of Sukuna,” You murmur, “Not if the fate of the world depends on it,” “What is it that you know?” Nanako murmurs.

You spin to face them, making yourself dizzy for a moment before you fix your glare on her wide brown eyes, “The last person to make a request of him and live to tell the tale beyond his grasp was the only person he ever loved, over a thousand years ago, and through no fault of his own he failed to fulfil her request,” You snap. Sometimes, now that you remember, you’re forced to relive your own death through your dreams.

The spray of razor sharp barbs hitting your back from the insect-like curses chasing you, dragging through your skin and shredding your insides like serrated knives. Your heart weakening with every beat, legs still running despite the fact there was a steady ooze of blood from around each point that cruelly stuck out from the front of your robes.

You remember you tripped on the path as his house came into view, falling to your knees, you nudged one of the barbs, it’s pointed edge taunting you with the rosy shine of your own blood. You remember the sound of your own screams drawing him from his house, only for you to bleed out in his arms, his face twisted and streaked with tears.

Tears that bound your soul to his in a futile effort to keep you alive, only succeeding in delaying the inevitable for but a few moments, allowing a proper vow to fall from his lips. You still feel the chains he put there, still feel his soul on the other side.

The girls eyes are fearful and you wish you could be sure if they know exactly what you’re trying to imply, but you won’t dwell on it any longer. “I’m going to get you to our healer, and you’re going to stay there without complaint, or I’m going to kill you myself, you understand?” They nod, eyes filled with fear as you grow deadly, feeling Sukuna’s gleeful bloodlust flood your senses.

Seething with quiet rage you escort them back to Shoko who, despite looking at you like you’ve grown a second head, lets you attempt to return to the fight. Although you aren’t entirely sure where anyone is anymore, you’ve somehow managed to get caught up in Sukuna’s domain, the slashes glancing harmlessly off your skin as you search for the epicentre.

“SUKUNA!” You shout, pressing forwards through the spray. It’s almost like rain, and you shake your head to clear your thoughts, trying your hardest to see anything. Finally in the darkness, you catch a glimpse of the shrine that lies at the centre of Sukuna’s domain, the jaws wide open and ominous as always.

This happens as the domain subsides, and you see his pink hair across from you at the edge of the destruction. “SUKUNA!” He looks towards you as you stumble in his direction, pulling yourself out of the hole as your chest heaves. “I thought I told you to get out of here,” He growls, hauling you to your feet by your upper arm.

You cough as you inhale some concrete dust, “If we want to do this body thing, now is the best time we have,” You croak, “Nobody else is around,” Sukuna smirks and looks past you for a moment, “Just wait a moment will you,”

You fall silent as he steps around you towards the hole, “Make sure to savour this for me brat,” Sukuna’s energy softly fades and you whip your head around, “Sukuna!” You growl, “You moron!” The tattoos fade and you see his hands start to shake.

Yuji grabs his face and you’re afraid to touch him, but he falls to his knees and you’re quickly by his side, “LET ME DIE!” He screams, dragging his fingertips along the rough concrete and shaving chunks of viscera off, “ONLY ME!” You make a mental note to chew Sukuna out later, this isn’t how you wanted to proceed.

 “Yuji listen to me, you made me a promise,” You grunt, pulling him back off the ground into your arms with yours hooked under his shoulders to prevent him from hurting himself anymore. “He can have my body,” Yuji sobs, burying his face against your arm, “I don’t deserve to live!” He wails.

“Don’t pull that shit with me,” You growl, grabbing his chin and making him look up at you. You know your eyes must be a reflection of Sukuna’s, you can see how terrified he is, “You promised me that you would assist me, and I promised you I would protect you,”

“Innocent people died!” He pulls away from you, “And it’s all my fault, I’m not strong enough, I just…” He trails off, breathing heavily, “I can’t understand how or why you love him, I just can’t,” Tears begin to slip down your cheeks, leaving trails through the dust and dirt, “Yuji, I…”

You know what you want to say, you want to remind him that you’re technically a thousand years old, you knew him before he was like… this… and you’re sure you can return him at least to a more docile state, but he’s like a caged wolf right now. Fulfilling an oath that has no purpose anymore other than to feed his bloodlust.

Instead, you take his hands in your own disregarding the state of his fingers to just hold him. “I will readily accept that this is partially my fault, I probably could have stopped him in the subway and I didn’t, but right now I need you to let me do this. The sooner he is out of your body the sooner your body is your own again,” You plead softly.

His shoulders droop and he nods, “Yeah, yeah, go on then,” He murmurs. You steel yourself, you hadn’t had the chance to practice this step because you couldn’t risk accidentally cloning Sukuna, so you had one shot to get it right.

You shift so you’re on your knees, still holding his hands, and using the blood from his fingers you paint a small chevron symbol on his forehead. It begins to glow as you reach deep into your soul, the well of energy within you stirring.

His eyes are full of tears as he looks at you, and you have to blink away your own again as the two of you begin to glow. There aren’t words in any language that can properly describe what exactly it is that you do, you suppose if your modern day clan had survived then you’d know what it was you were doing, but you could only follow your instincts and hope that everything went smoothly.

A trail of strange white energy, formless and malleable, pulls from the wounded tips of Yuji’s fingers, trailing out like blossoms in the wind and eventually forming something resembling a human beside you. You reach one hand towards it, maintaining your connection to Yuji and pressing your other to the pale form that is gradually taking on colour.

It occurs to you as Sukuna’s form begins to take shape before you that you have no clothes for him, you really hadn’t thought as far ahead as you should have, and Yuji averts his eyes, emptying the contents of his stomach away from the strange new body.

It takes a few more minutes and some small adjustments but soon the body is finished, and it looks just as you remember from before your death. “How the hell do we get him into the body now?” Yuji asks?” “Like this,” You turn to him, pressing your hand to the side of his face as his eyes widen.

Tattoos form on his skin and his eyes waver between brown and red momentarily, before Sukuna responds to your power and pushes forward. “You called?” He tilts his head with a smirk, grabbing your chin and inspecting the tear tracks on your face, “Did the brat make you cry?”

You shake your head, “No he didn’t, now will you hurry up and do whatever it is you have to do to switch bodies?” You murmur, exhaustion gripping at your limbs. He looks down, nodding with approval as he lets you go, “Your craft is immaculate as always,” He murmurs, trailing his fingers over the unblemished skin.

You rub your jaw, clicking your neck momentarily as you look around, spotting a somewhat intact clothing store a few doors down from you, “I’ll be right back,” You haul yourself to your feet, stumbling towards the shattered glass and into the shop. It takes a few minutes but eventually you find all the essentials to just cover him up, underwear, sweatpants, and a simple t-shirt that has a generic band logo you don’t recognise on the back.

Making sure it’s all in a larger size you lurch back out onto the street, noticing the new body sitting up and flexing his fingers, his body adorned with tattoos and his face changed, returned to the half-twisted state. Yuji is trembling on his side a couple metres away, his back facing the two of you as you return to them.

It only takes you a moment to realise what happened, Sukuna made the new body eat one of Yuji’s fingers, and you frown at him sternly, “Heal him,” You grunt, hitting his shoulder with the back of your hand. He snatches the clothes off you without responding, you fall back onto your butt and shuffle over to Yuji, “Oh Yuji,” You murmur.

“You heal him if you care so much, he’s just a brat,” Sukuna growls and you whip your head back to look at him, fury giving you a shot of adrenaline, “I just used up almost all of my energy reserves to create a new body for you from nothing, you fucking owe me, I don’t care how much you hate him,”

His face remains stoic and you stand, poking his chest viciously, “I brought you into this world, I can fucking take you out of it, I don’t care, you better not make me think I just wasted everything I had for nothing,” He rolls his eyes, pushing past you and bending down, his hand on Yuji’s side frightens the boy for a moment but he relaxes as Sukuna’s reverse cursed technique flows through him, growing back the finger he stole and healing his other fingertips.

“Are you happy now?” He growls, standing up and looking down on you. You spit off to the side, saliva mixed with blood, “I won’t be happy until you stop treating me like a fucking worm, I gave you your own body and now you think you can treat me like this? Is this how you show appreciation to someone who you’ve apparently lied to every time you’ve told them you loved them?”

His demeanour is softened the moment you accuse him of lying and you feel a momentary sting of regret, but you just spent all of your energy giving his own body. It’ll take you weeks to recover from this. If he isn’t willing to fight in your place, then what was it all for?

You want to cry again, you want to burst into tears and fall to your knees, you want to stay by Yuji’s side and just give up hope. This isn’t the man you knew, you should’ve been more careful, shouldn’t have so readily trusted him when he showed you his memories. He’s changed too much, and you’re afraid you’ll never get him back.

You do eventually tire of Sukuna’s solemn silence, slumping down on the rubble next to Yuji and apologizing softly, repeatedly. You know that no amount of words will ever make up for what he’s gone through, but as long as you stay with him he might have a chance of getting through this.

“Y/n,” Sukuna rumbles. You look back to him, he’s sat casually just beside you, “You’re the only thing I want in this world, without you I am nothing but a curse seeking endless vengeance,” You feel Yuji roll over and press his face against the side of your thigh, “You give me a purpose, and if you don’t trust me that’s ok, just…”

He reaches for you and you let him take your hand, looking up into his eyes, “You made me human again,” He murmurs, “I… I remember what it’s like to love, and I will stay by your side until you believe me and you love me too,” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, choosing to remain silent but nodding slightly.

His eyes close and your free hand rests on Yuji’s back. It will take time, and this fight is far from over, but you’re sure that things will begin to heal. Even if you end up on the run from Jujutsu society for the rest of your life, at least you have him back. At least you can go about trying to save some of your friends.

I think this takes the prize for my favourite chapter so far, maybe it's just the whole 'writers are their own worst enemies' thing (is that how that goes? idk) and because it's the most recent one lol

also i hope yall dont mind me saving characters who died in shibuya, but i mean it's my fic and i get to choose who lives >:)

Part 4 coming soon

[tomriddlehyperfixataion]

Tom Riddle x reader - blurb/how you(blank) because i need to write SOMETHING

How you meet - During 5th year, its a simple paired potions assignment and you end up getting paired with Tom. he's polite and charming of course, one must be to gain allies, even if they are...less, in his view.

How you gain his attention- Oddly, you don't pay attention to him like most of the girls do(frtho we all be drooling over him and blushing), you just get your work done and be polite. it gains his attention because 'whomst? doesn't react to my charms and face? i must find out the cause'. mans likes a puzzle to solve.

How it starts- he starts hanging around to try and solve the puzzle of you, he wants to know everything, every weakness and every tiny piece about the person who caught his attention. he surmises that he'll lose interest at some point once he learns enough/gains your attention like the other girls always give him. but the longer he hangs around, the more...comfortable he gets. he finds himself gravitating towards you, not really realizing whats happening until its already too late.

How he realizes- during another potions class, Slughorn was reviewing Amortentia and Tom smelled a particular scent that had him reeling back-his eyes going wide and ears turning pink. it was your perfume/shampoo/cologne/body wash/whatever. a smell he had gotten way too acquainted with over the last few months. (yes it takes him literal months to get to this point he is not a love at first sight kinda guy, he has to have some sort of connection) and he has a bit of a breakdown-because haha-WHAT!?

What happens after the realization- He distances himself right away, practically cuts contact. doesn't look at you, doesn't speak to you unless he HAS to. just goes cold turkey. right away he misses you and is just like *AHHHHHHHHHHHHH* but internally...this only lasts about two weeks before he decides 'fuck i miss them' and just stares at you for a good while before he gains to courage to go up to you and start talking again. he keeps his cool, of course he does, but inside he is screaming.

How he confesses- its right before summer break of 5th year, yes he takes forever to confess and he does it right before everyone leaves for the summer, just in case he gets rejected and doesn't have to look you in the eye until the next school term. For once he's fumbling over his words and he cant keep eye contact, his face slowly turning red as you stare at him with a small smile. depending on how you react, he'll either leave with a hidden smile or the STUPIDEST grin he's ever worn, or will wear. the grin will be if you kiss him on the cheek.

When you both come back for 6th year- Oh-he is NERVOUS-he didn't even know he COULD BE nervous. his hands are shaking slightly and he cannot focus on anything he is just so nervous about seeing you again. he hides it well, blank face and everything, but he moment he sees you at the train station, and you smile at him, he cannot help but smile back because holy shit they like me back and i wasn't delusional

lowkey i hc Tom is insecure in relationships(genuine ones)

How he is in a relationship- it takes him a long time to get properly comfortable. pulls back from any pda and wont even let you hold his hand. you can hold his sleeve or something but hand? nope. he's just so unused to being touched in a loving way that he's-almost grossed out by it? but once he finally starts to settle? ooooh he is the cuddliest thing on planet earth. feral cat that felt the loving touch of their human and now will never let them go. pda is at a minimum but now you're always holding hands in some way, pinkies interlocked and everything. study dates are the main dates, but he wont mind a date at the three broomsticks once in a while, as long as you find a quiet corner to hang out in semi-privately. will help you with homework but has to be offered something(wink wink just kidding its candy.) Major! sweet tooth, you could make him commit murder with the offer of sweets(lets be fr he wouldn't need candy to commit murder) jealous! jealous jealous jealous! and possessive, no one is allowed to talk to you, not with out several interviews from Tom and being cleared after taking a written exam on why they wouldn't try anything on his boy/girl.

loves to see you in his hoodies/sweaters, thinks its the best way other than hickeys to mark his territory. will happily give up all his hoodies to make sure everyone knows that you're his.

side note; i see so many tik toks(Slytherin boys react n stuff) that make him super threatening and menacing and willing to kill during the Hogwarts years. like he's smart. really fucking smart. he wouldn't risk anything just for someone he cares a lot about, torture? yes. kill? no. he's not stupid. he's not going to get caught over a stupid boy who gets handsy. will he later kill that idiot after graduation? yes, but during school? when Dumbledore is around to keep an eye on him? no. he's not stupid. he's not a murder machine, he's homicidal not stupid.

Anyway back to the point

Other relationship stuff-

Would take a long time to get to the point were he wants to go past kissing, hell it takes him forever to kiss you for the first time-like legit three months into the relationship. he would do knuckle/hand kisses and cheek kisses here and there-but it takes months for you guys to kiss properly for the first time. but anyway's he had never been attracted to anyone before you and takes a long time to get sexually active with you, mans is a virgin-everyone makes him a playboy and i look at his ass and go 'that man has never touched a girl a day in his life'.

So he learns with you, once he starts? oh yes he goes full horn dog. he is insatiable! cant keep his hands off you in private/semi-private. is pretty vanilla at first but he finds a spicy book and is very intrigued. learns he has a breeding kink very quickly and is very into choke play and control.

First and last love, if you ever leave him(haha you wont), he will probably never get attached to anyone romantically ever again.

Very protective and will keep you out of his 'darker' business, like the chamber and his followers and plans, wants to keep you innocent, to have something that isn't total darkness and evil. now if you're into that kinda thing he wont stop you, but he will keep you away from it all just in case.

Cold hands-will warm them up between your thighs-thick or not.

Has naturally curly hair, and only lets you see it-everyone else gets the polished hair gel look. it took him months to let you see it-but once you proclaim your love for his natural hair-he makes it a point to let you see/play with it before he puts his gel in/after he washes his hair at night.

can and will fall asleep on you, esp. if you're playing with his hair or scratching his scalp/neck, arms fully wrapped around you and konked out, very cute panther lookin ass.

steals ur pillows and switches it with his(he has good pillows and washes his bed sheets/pillow cases routinely)

mayhaps have stolen one of your blankets...you're not getting it back.

will help you do any homework you have trouble with, might even let you copy his homework for a price(wink wink fr this time)

by the end of 7th year, and you're still together, fully plans to buy a ring and marry you. no doubts about it.

[copperbadge]

[ID: Two images; one is a slow-cooker pan full of chopped onions gently sweating, and the other is my wax melt warmer, a lantern-looking object with a pool of warm wax in the lid, sitting on a windowsill.]

Okay. Now that I've done with the gross part, let's talk about the positives of today's cleaning!

Part of the reason I wanted to count yesterday's grocery trip was that I did an inventory of the freezer and found I was low on sauteed mushrooms and caramelized onions, both of which I use frequently but are a pain to make when you want to be cooking other things, and both of which freeze really well so you don't necessarily have to.

I got a pound and a half of mushrooms plus three pounds of onions, and this morning I chopped up the onions and put them in the slow-cooker; I'm trying slow-cooker caramelized onions again, simply because I'll still have to babysit them a bit at the end but this way I don't have to spend forty solid minutes standing over the pot. I chopped the mushroom caps and sauteed those in chunks, but I also chopped the stems super-fine and put those in a pan of veggie broth to simmer and soften. (I don't mind the odd stem on a pizza or something but they can be a little tough, so when I prep them myself usually I cook the stems separately and puree them, then use the puree to flavor sauces.)

While the mushrooms were simmering, I got started on the kitchen counters, first wiping down the hutch where I keep my meds and Shabbat supplies. I'd been keeping the new wax melt warmer, meant to help my home smell nicer, on the hutch, but the kitchen is kind of closed-off, so I finally found a spot where it was both safe from the cats and also near an outlet but could spread its scent a little further.

And then I had to tackle the area to the left of the sink, where I do a lot of my meal preparing and also snacking. I mentioned this in the Soap Dish post earlier, and you can even see the edge of the freshly-washed dish over on the right. I moved everything, washed the counter with Grease Lightning and then vinegar before wiping with a damp cloth, then cleaned everything you see in whatever way it needed cleaning and put it all back. (The yellow mug is what I use for weighing liquids while baking, and the two bowls I often use for recipe prep; the rest is mostly snacks, though the "butter" dish is a French Butter Bell, which I link because I know people will have questions. The slatted board is a bread-slicing board that I use for meal preparation sometimes because it's easier for me to clean than the counter.)

[ID: An image of my kitchen counter; it has a paper towel dispenser and a set of bamboo shelves at the back, and resting on the shelves are several boxes of snacks plus a couple of bowls. In front of that is a slatted cutting board, as well as a crock reading BUTTER on it and a bottle of dish soap. Off on the left, mostly off-frame, is the sink; on one corner of the sink's lip is a metal contraption for holding sponges and soap.]

[goldenempyrean]

"I know, sweetie, but you have to take it so your fever goes down.." “That medicine tastes gross.” With sick Natasha

Eggs Need Love Too

〚 Notes - This idea was really cute! I’ve received so many reqs too (seriously im at like 30 atm) so tysm for them all! Im hoping to get some stuff written tomorrow too :D 〛

〚 Summary - Nat’s sick and doesn’t want to take her medicine. 〛

〚 Wordcount - 720 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

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“Oh sweetie, no. You shouldn’t be up.” You voiced your concerns as your sick girlfriend padded into the room, the main duvet from your bed wrapped snugly around her.

Natasha only replied with a thick sniffle as she came to nestle beside you, cuddling into your side as she got comfy.

“Shouldn’t you be tucked up in bed baby? I thought you were meant to be sleeping.”

“Cant sleep, too hot an’ mm’ missed you.” Natasha’s words were slightly slurred as she spoke, prompting you to raised your hand to cup her cheek, and you could feel the heat coursing through her. You don't need a medical license to know that she was running a hell of a fever but that didn’t really come as a surprise, the crimson flush settled across her cheeks was an almost certain giveaway.

“Baby, your temps up again. Im gonna have to go get you some more of that medicine again.” You sighed as you kissed her forehead.

“Nooo,” Natasha whined as she buried her face down against your shoulder, “That medicine tastes gross.”

“I know, sweetie, but you have to take it so your fever goes down. Otherwise that big, smart brain of yours will become a poached egg and we don’t want that, do we?”

“No,” She sniffled, rubbing the blanket against her nose before she began mumbling outloud, “but sometimes eggs are good, many eggs are under-appreciated by society. Eggs need love too.”

“Yes Natty, eggs need love too. Now stay here my little chicken.” You pressed another kiss down to the clearly delirious assassin’s forehead before taking the opportunity to gently slide out from her hold as you went over to retrieve some of the medicine.

You made sure to grab her a cold bottle of water too from the fridge, tucking it under your arm as you poured out the correct dosage into a small shot glass. To be fair to her, this particular medicine wasn’t known for its amazing taste, you knew it was gross, even the smell alone never failed to make your stomach churn, but it really was the best kind afterall. Anyway, all you had to do now was get her to take it. A task easier said then done..

Coming back to the sofa, you retook your original position and you could feel Natasha shivering against you as you drew out the medicine, whining like a fussy toddler as you held it out to her.

“C’mom please take it, here, I even got you some water too,” You went to hand it to her but stopped just before she took it. Instead you raised the cool bottle to her overheated forehead, the action earning a sigh of relief from Nat.

“That feels good, hm?”

She nodded against you.

“Do you wanna feel like that all the time?”

She nodded again.

“Well sweetie, if you take this medicine, it’ll help you feel much better I promise. It should make you sleepy too so you can go back up to bed and help your body fight off that yucky bug, wouldn’t that be good?”

And thankfully after a little more fussing and some gentle coaxing, Natasha caves and gulps down the shot of medicine like a true champion, her expression instantly turning sour as she held back a gag, “That was disgusting.”

“I know baby, but you did amazing,” You then handed her the water which you’d still been holding to her forehead, “there you go, that should wash away that icky taste.”

Natasha didn’t hesitate to gulp down the water, and the bottle was almost empty in a shockingly short amount of time and before long she was nuzzling back up against you.

You both stayed quiet for some time, content to be still as you held her. Thankfully, it wasn’t long before the effects of the meds started to kick in. Natasha yawned widely against you, her eyes growing heavier by the minute.

Soon enough, you felt her body relax against your own and you looked down to see Nat’s soft, pale lips parting as she drifted into sleep. And though her condition is anything but pleasant, her sleepiness is downright adorable. "You did a wonderful job, baby." You whispered down into her hair as you gently lifted her into your arms, “now lets get you back to bed.”

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[osamusbigtits]

the smell of old cigarette smoke greets suna when he opens the door. it's gross, yet suna still breathes it in. he didn't think he would miss it. the apartment is a bit of a mess: clothes thrown around, a couple of used tissues on the coffee table, a few empty soda bottles. suna looks to the kitchen to find it a mess as well. osamu's doing worse than atsumu said.

suna taps his phone screen to check the time. a little past midnight. osamu has to be fast asleep by now. suna debates for a moment before deciding to tidy up.

collecting the empty bottles and tissues to throw them away. he puts clothes in the laundry bin. does the dishes sitting in the sink and puts everything back in its place. the kitchen isn't to osamu's usual standard, but it's better than what it was. maybe it allow osamu to breathe a little easier.

soft footsteps trail their way to their bedroom. suna feels relieved when he opens the door and the bedroom isn't a mess. a lump snores on the left side of the bed and suna smiles fondly.

suna pulls off his jeans and socks and climbs into bed next to osamu. he wraps his arms around osamu, resting his forehead against osamu's back. osamu doesn't stir. he must have been exhausted.

exhaustion creeps at suna. he wants to stay away a little longer. to savor the warmth of osamu in his arms, to be able to smell the linger scent of food and osamu's favorite brand of cigarettes, mixed with his earthy body wash.

but traveling all night, right after finishing practice, left suna more tired than he thought. and swiftly, he drifted to sleep.

and then osamu's alarm went off. it felt like suna had blinked and now he was awake again.

osamu reached out and shut the alarm of and rested back in bed. he leaned against suna's chest and suna held him tighter.

suna was just about to drift off when osamu exclaims his name. suna blinked awake, again, confused for a moment.

osamu kisses him- when did he turn to face him? suna kisses back for a moment before pushing osamu away. "holy shit, dude, brush your teeth," suna says and buries his face into the nearest pillow.

osamu, undeterred, kisses suna's neck and shoulder. "when did you get home? i didn't know you were coming, I would've waited for you. oh, you have to be hungry-"

suna grabs osamu's face. "babe. get ready for work. I'll visit you later. I'm fucking exhausted."

osamu licks suna's hand and suna pulls it away. with a final kiss to suna's shoulder, osamu gets up.

suna falls back asleep to the sound of osamu brushing his teeth.

~

deciding against bothering osamu at work, suna calls him instead during osamu's lunch break. osamu fusses over him, asking if he's eaten, if he was safe during his travels, all that.

right after that call ends, suna calls atsumu.

"he is way worse than you said," suna accuses. "you should've told me!"

"I knew you wouldn't have been able to wait until the end of the season. I had it under control," atsumu replies. "has he talked to you?"

suna looks around the apartment. everything is wrong. osamu doesn't like messy things- neither of the twins do, actually. everything has a place, according to them. and nothing is in its place at the moment.

"no. I didn't get home until after midnight." suna uses his thumb to twist the ring around his pointer finger. he frowns.

"please talk to him. he wouldn't talk to me. just kept saying he's fine." atsumu sighs. weak. like he's been fighting this battle longer than suna knows. "maybe he'll talk to you."

"i'll try," suna replies.

osamu's a stubborn man. he likes to bottle up any negative emotions. and he always appears fine. a smile and a laugh and no one knows the difference. little things show, however. like the apartment being a mess. the kitchen untidy. like refusing to talk to his twin brother, the one he always talks to about everything.

suna finds himself cleaning the living room. it isn't bad. but suna doesn't like it. things are dusty, the carpet looks like it hasn't been vacuumed in weeks, the blankets on the couch reek of feet and sweat. living room blankets in the laundry first. then he'll do the bedding. and finally, osamu's clothes. which have been piling up- suna's positive osamu's re-wearing his work shirt, who knows how long that's been going on.

he uses cleaning to distract his wandering mind. clearing dust off of their knickknacks to avoid thinking the worse. he scrubs the house down with precision he's never cared about before. his mind still races. wondering how bad it could be to not tell atsumu. osamu had never once told suna he was doing bad.

suna's chest clenches.

he cleans the bathroom and bedroom. the faint scent of lemons, disinfectant, and just a touch of bleach overtake the apartment. he debates cleaning the kitchen, but that's osamu's area.

curious, suna walks into the kitchen and checks the junk drawer. box of cigarettes and lighter gone. osamu's doing bad.

suna walks into the bedroom and puts his own things away. he takes a deep breath. he needs to keep it together.

~

soft music played from the tv, suna's spotify hooked up to it. the lights were on in the apartment, but it was still dark. shadows crept in the corners.

it was lonely, suna realized. empty. an apartment made for two with only one living in it. suna realized how much of him, suna, make up the place. it was like a constant reminder that suna wasn't here.

suna felt sick.

the front door clicked and then opened, a creek sounding before it softly hit the wall. suna slowly looked over as osamu untied his shoes and took them off, shutting the door behind him.

"welcome home," suna says, softly.

osamu gives a smile and then looks around.

"you cleaned," osamu says. then his eyes catch the kitchen and his smile falters for a moment before returning. suna didn't miss it though.

"samu," suna says. nerves claw at his chest. maybe he shouldn't bring it up. maybe osamu will just get better.

osamu looks at him. osamu is right in front of suna, but he isn't with suna. his eyes are distant, distracted.

suna holds his hand out for osamu to grab and then pulls him onto the couch. osamu settles, eyebrows knitted together in confusion. suna keeps his hand in osamu's.

"can we talk?" suna asks. he sounds scared. why can't he just feign confidence for once? not like it would matter, osamu would see right through him. or would he right now?

osamu nods, still confused. suna gently squeezes his hand. he should've thought this out more.

"atsumu called me about a week ago," suna starts. he fights with himself to keep his eyes on osamu's, even when osamu looks away. "he's been concerned about you and asked me if I knew what was going on with you." suna bites his lip, giving osamu a chance to explain.

the explanation never comes so suna continues. "all he said was that you were off. I was hoping you'd tell me something was wrong during one of our calls." suna rubs his thumb against osamu's hand, a reassurance.

"i'm fine," osamu says softly. the way he winces, he knows it wasn't convincing.

suna sighs and moves closer to osamu. his free hand cups osamu's jaw. "I'm not mad, osamu. whatever is going on, I'm here for you. even if you don't want to talk about it now. but I can't have you lying to me about being fine."

osamu moves and wraps his arms around suna, burying his face into suna's shoulder. suna hugs him tightly.

"thank you for cleaning," osamu says after a long moment (the length of 2 songs from suna's playlist.)

"of course, baby," suna replies. "it'll be ok." voice soft and gentle. osamu's shoulders shake. "I'm here now."

the sob that breaks through osamu is the answer suna needs.

[wierdaesthetic]

How I think cod men smell like naturally their body. (hate dni)

so I have this thing called synesthics with basically causes my brain to use more than one sence when triggered for example I can smell pictures, I know it sounds weird but when ever I look at pic of smth or someone my brain makes up what it/they would smell like. (And to my suprice its pretty accurate)

1. ghost

I am 100% he wears Axe body spray in the purple blue scent, and not because its named Marine (haha). Yeah so his notes are axe spray, hormones(the sweet pinappley ones, not the gross just hit puberty boy type) and I think rust for some reason like he was in a mechanical work space. 2. Konig

Now this bitch confuses me as shit. I think he smells like medical equiment but at the same time I think he smells like nothing, netrual. I dont know he has a minty tone tho. So he probs just has amazing heigyne and doesn't over fragrance himself.

3. Price He smells like tobacco Malboro, I bet my ass on that. But I would know cause I smoke more than him (he is 40+ I am beraly 20). But he also smell alchooly BUT BEFORE YOU SAY I AM STEREOTYPING!! I mean like fragrance type alchool, most notably after shave type of scent. Like spicy cinamon but in a more masculine way. 4. Soap

Before yall hoes come for me, sHe pRobS gOinG tO sAy He SmElLs LikE SoAp, NO BITCH. Like I said I aint stereotyping shit today. HE SMELLS LIKE A PHEREMONENAL SLUT not because he is my favourite but because he always sweaty in the game. But I dont think his sweat smells bad honestly, first of all let me let yall in a little secret ... if you exersice, eat heathly and let out sweat (you know ;) ;)) YOUR SWEAT DOESN'T SMELL!! In the best case senario it is even plesant. At the bear minimum he smells like a basic cologe that his ex or ghost bought him for his bday.

5. Gaz

Let me tell you hoes something. BLACK MEN KNOW HOW TO NOTE AND COMPLIMENT THEIR SCENT!! Did you read that or do I need to repeat it. He smells like vanilla, cocunut, sol de janero REALNESS. He has scented moisteraiser every where in his car, in bag, on a keychain, in his mulitary bag EVERYWHERE, I bet you he has one between his cheeks so he can use it mids war. (I AM DYING) 6. Alejandro

Now hear me when I say, I know he smells feminine. Which is not bad at all but I feel like his stuff is florally scented or fruit or something like that, but at the same time I fear he smells like my boy bff cause they have so similar vibes (I HOPE NOT). But also he smell of tattoo shop YEAH THATS IT. He smells exactly like green disinfectant soap with rose peals infusion, exactly that and if you dont know what I am talking about just imagine dentist office smell + roses.

7. Alex Keller

Oh I know he smells good, naturally and when it comes to fragrance. I just feel it in my bones. He smells like oils, honey and anything in that area. I just know he drenches himself in jojoba oil and l know he loves dior. Like thats it, he is an expencive smelling man.

8. Rudy

I mean, he confuses me. I think he is mixure of hormones (again not the disguasting) and expencive parfum. I think he smells "manly", it sounds weird I know. I KNOW! He smells like salty caramel but the sticky type that you can also eat as a chewing gum, if you are from europe you especially from the slavic or balkan area you know exactly what I am talking about.

9. Nikto

To me he smells like home and I bet my ass on that if he was real I would say that as soon as I would met him but I bet most of yall have no idea what I am talking about unless you are slavic. Well he smells like beer but not the alchooly type but the softer type also he smells like grass, nature and wood. Also he smells like tobacco NOT SMOKE but the plant.

10. Keegan

MINT. MINT. MINT. I know this man smells like a colgate ad, I can feel it. He smells exactly how water tastes after you brush your teeth. He smells also like rain but thats a small note, mostly MINT and fresh. If you are afab or use ph balance wash HE SMELLS LIKE THAT.

(no I wont do philip FUCK HIM, unless yall really want it)

Just a bit of my delulu for anyone that caress I CAN SMELL KONIG RIGHT NOW WTF, AS IF HE IS IN FRONT OF ME. It so weird help.

[imcringeonpurpose]

Red Blood Bleeds Red

Side Note: redsteel is iron forged with redstone dust

Grian caught Mumbo's hand before it touched his wings and frowned. He ran a finger over the stains of red and raised a questioning eyebrow. 

"Oh. That." Mumbo paused. "It's just redstone dust. You work with it long enough, and it'll get in your skin and won't really come out."

"Smells like copper," said Grian. There was a silent message he added with that sentence. Smells like blood. 

Unfortunately, Mumbo had never been quite good at hearing silent messages. 

"Yeah, that's how it smells," he said with a shrug. "It's worse when it's raw in the ore. Then it gets better when you purify it, then worse when you forge it with iron. And you, well, I mean, you've seen my base. Redsteel wires everywhere."

"You smell like you've killed someone," Grian pressed. 

"Yeah, I guess I do, don't I?" Mumbo chuckled. Then he looked Grian in the eye, and a face of concern swept over his expression. For a brief moment, Grian thought he had finally understood what he had been hinting at the whole time. 

"Oh, does it bother you?" Mumbo asked. "The redstone smell? The thing about it is that the smell doesn't really transmit, so your wings will be fine, but I'd get it if you didn't want my blood-smelling hands on 'em. I would wash, but that doesn't really help, is the problem."

Grian deflated. He had made up the excuse of needing Mumbo to help him preen just so he could have a good reason to mention Mumbo's hands that looked bloodstained to see if he had any memory of the.. Incident. It didn't seem like Mumbo did. He had never been that great of a liar, and especially rubbish at sounding ignorant. 

He genuinely did remember absolutely nothing...

"M-Mumbo?" gasped Grian, scrambling backward on all fours. 

It was Mumbo, and it wasn't at the same time. It was a creature with wings that dripped blackness and had a disturbing lack of flesh on them - nothing but bones and burnt feathers that seemed to be stuck to the bones by the same black that dripped off the bones. And the bones.. they ended in sharp claws, which the Mumbo Creature used to sink into the vindicator's chest, tearing and ripping. The Mumbo Creature screamed, high-pitched and sounding like a sculk shrieker. Or maybe a distorted enderman. It was hard for Grian to hear anything but his own pounding heartbeat. 

He watched in horror and a gross amount of fascination at the slaughter before him. The Mumbo Creature tore pillagers in half and opened Its mouth disturbingly wide to rip out the throats of those shooting at him. Vindactors' axes didn't even seem to hurt It. 

And then they were dead, all dead, nothing but their crossbows and axes and blood and smoke to prove they were even there to begin with. And amid all the smoke, a blood-soaked and yet suddenly and unexplainably normal Mumbo Jumbo was on his hands and knees, one hand to his head and groaning. 

"M-Mumbo?" Grian spluttered, confused. Where were the wings? The claws? The freakishly weird eyes that were so black they had no dimension?

Mumbo lifted his head and stared at him hazily, unregistered. Then his elbows bucked and he slumped to the ground, limp but uninjured.

Grian had had to drag both of them home, feeling awfully confused the whole while. His initial bewilderment at how a raid had started even though he hadn't had the Banner Effect had been squashed by the whirlwind of questions he had now. What were those wings? What was anything? Mumbo had appeared out of nowhere, invincible and destructive. Had that really been Mumbo? It had to have been because there he was in Grian's arms right now. But this Mumbo was normal and human and not.. not freakishly tall and thin and winged with claws. This Mumbo was suffering from one of his headaches again. 

That made Grian pull to a sharp stop. An arrow whizzing past his head from a skeleton reminded him that he was woefully unprotected - he had died during the surprise raid and lost his items - and to keep moving. And so he did, but now with the dreadful realization of the truth. 

Mumbo wasn't a man who suffered from headaches! He was a beast with bone-wings and talons and terrifying teeth and deadly fighting capabilities... except.. he didn't seem to be very in control of it. According to him, he just woke up in random places with a splitting headache and no explanation.

Did he even remember it? Mumbo had always been adamant that he was human. 100% fully and undoubtedly human. 

Grian finally stumbled his way back home, where he and Mumbo fell to the floor in a heap. Mumbo was too unconscious and Grian too exhausted to do anything more than obey physics and sleep. 

Grian's last fleeting thought was he would question the heck out of the man tomorrow. 

[thisbuildinghasfeelings]

Fic anon again 📖: oh thank you so much, what a lovely reply, thank you for being so kind! And considerate ❤️ and thank you for being willing to read my first ever Tarlos writing attempt, it means a lot 🥹 I will send it anonymously but you are free to publish my ask on your blog, if that’s okay. I’d love to get some feedback actually ❤️

okay so here goes nothing I guess! It’s short and not edited (apart from me and my over thinking brain 👋) and English is not my first language, so all mistakes are mine and not on purpose 😅:

Carlos looks up from his book at the sound of TK barging into their apartment. “Hey babe”, he sounds out of breath. TK quickly closes the sliding door behind him and immediately starts taking off his shoes and jacket.

“Ugh, I need a shower. Like, right now. I feel gross“, TK smells his t-shirt with a disgusted look on his face and rummages around his gym bag he brought home from the station. „And these clothes desperately need a wash, too.“ TK starts throwing a scandalous amount of dirty clothes, socks, underwear and workout apparel on a pile behind him. Well, that explains a lot. Carlos has been wondering where half of TK´s stuff went. (Come to think of it, some of his as well. Interesting.)

And that´s when he is eying two of his favorite sweatshirts making its way onto the increasing mountain of clothes on their living room floor. Of course. Carlos feels a fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He puts the book aside, leans over the back of their sofa and watches TK with his head propped up in his hand. That fond smile is about to take over his whole face. “You are a chaotic man, Tyler Kennedy. And a shameless thief“, Carlos says amused. “And if you still think I will be on laundry duty tonight, please think again“, he raises his eyebrows playfully, giving TK´s bend over body a challenging look.

“Don’t worry, babe. I will take care of this mess. You won’t have to lift a finger, promise. I am going to make sure, my husband has the most relaxing evening”, even with his head buried in the depths of his huge NIKE sports bag, Carlos can hear him smile. TK loves to say the word „husband“. Ever since they got married two months ago he likes to casually (he thinks) drops it in conversations at any given moment, doesn’t matter if it’s with the 126, a patient (so he’s heard) or said husband himself (evidently).

“Thank you. Also, who is this husband you keep referring to lately? He sounds nice“, Carlos teases and makes his way over to TK, who is still busy unloading what looks like half of his possessions at this point. What on earth does he keep in there? Carlos shakes his head, coming to a hold behind TK and puts his hands on his shoulders. He squeezes lightly, feeling his fingers touch the soft fabric of TK´s shirt.

TK slowly turns around, big smile still in place. He looks up at Carlos, the sparkle in his eyes so bright, it’s almost blinding. Carlos can’t look away. Not that he wanted to anyways. “Oh, him? Yeah, he is very nice. And VERY handsome. I don’t know how I got so lucky, really“, TK stands up and gently places one hand on Carlos`s hip. The other one finds its way underneath his sweater onto his back, caressing his warm skin, just above the waistband of his jeans. “I definitely need to introduce you guys at some point. I am sure, you’d get along. You two are very similar“, TK winks and Carlos once again shakes his head, rolling his eyes affectionately. His husband is ridiculous. And Carlos loves all of it.

“Hi“, TK whispers, fingers still brushing over soft skin. Carlos leans down and greets him back with a quick peck on the lips. “Hi, yourself“, Carlos smiles, cupping TK´s face and placing a gentle kiss on the right corner of his mouth. “I missed you. How was your day?“, Carlos pulls back, now mustering him with a more serious expression, his eyes darting across TK´s features. “I was a little worried after last night…“

TK sighs, intertwining their hands and letting them lazily swing back and forth between them. “Today was so much better. I think work really helped.“, TK tries a smile and hesitantly shrugs. „But yeah, last night was…really bad. I haven’t felt this restless and anxious in a long time. I’m sorry for calling you in the middle of your shift, I didn’t want to worry you. Just needed to hear your voice, I guess…“, TK murmurs and avoids Carlos`gaze.

“TK, you know, you can always call me, right? I want you to call me“, Carlos lowers his head in concern, searching for TK´s eyes. „And there is absolutely no need to apologise. I am always here for you, you hear me?“, Carlos squeezes TK´s hands for emphasis. TK meets Carlos eyes again and feels this overwhelming wave of warmth washing over him. “I do. Thank you“, his face softening. “I love you, you know that?“, he presses a lingering kiss to Carlos lips. And another one. And one more. For emphasis.

After a while they both pull back, smiling at each other. They stay like this for a quick moment, neither of them ready to step out of their little bubble just yet.

„I hope you’re hungry, I made us dinner“, Carlos says quietly. TK still looks at him, then getting on his tiptoes to fix his reading glasses. He gently pushes them back in place. Carlos forgot he still has them on, but he knows how much TK likes them, so he doesn’t mind. „I heard…“, Carlos takes TK´s hand in his „…that’s what husbands do“, a playful grin is taking over his entire face as he leads them to the dining table, eyes full of mischief.

TK´s laugh echoes through their apartment, before they come to a halt in front of a beautifully set table. “Very grateful you’re taking notes, babe“, he sits down, taking in the fresh flowers, lit candles and freshly baked bread. “This is…so nice”, he looks absolutely in awe.

TK takes a sip of water and suddenly starts sniffling. “Wait, did you make lasagne?“, he excitedly gets up again and tries to catch a glimpse of the food still cooking in the kitchen behind them. “Yes, lasagne, now sit down, please“, Carlos chuckles. “I have never seen anyone being this excited about lasagne. It never gets old“, he says over his shoulder on his way to the kitchen. He starts filling up their plates and carrying them over to the dining room, where a beaming TK is already waiting for him. Carlos is way too endeared for his own good.

“I know it’s your favourite“, Carlos places the plate down in front of TK, then a quick kiss to his temple. TK fondly watches Carlos as he unfolds the napkin, places it over his lap and tentatively takes a first bite. Their plates are still steaming. “Thank you. You’re the best“, he says softly, then starts digging in as well.

They eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Until TK can hear a quiet sigh of defeat coming from across the table.

“TK…”,

Pause

“Are you wearing my shirt?“

Ummm...this is so good!!! I can assure you that you have nothing to feel insecure about!

It hit so many things that I absolutely love: sweet domestic husbands, adorable teasing, chaotic TK, Carlos being comforting and reassuring! Also, them referring to each other as "my husband" is something I currently can't get out of my head in anticipation for it happening in season 5, so TK loving to say it, casually dropping it into conversations with the 126--and even with patients 😂--I LOVE that! Also, TK admiring Carlos in his reading glasses and TK stealing/wearing Carlos' clothes are another two of my favorite things!

Aside from the excellent content, I loved both the dialogue and description. It flowed well, I could see it all playing out in my mind and I think you captured their voices well! Excellent job! If you ever want to send me any more, feel free! And if/when you do decide to post, you should tag me so I don't miss it!!

[victorluvsalice]

Welcome to Winter Friday in the Chill Valicer Save, aka The Proper Grand Opening Of The Grocery Store! We have a lot to get through, as per usual, so let's get to it --

-->Since I started with Victor and Alice snoozing away and Smiler singing into the rec room microphone after storing their latest frog acquisitions, I took the opportunity to put away all their non-decoration-box Winterfest decorations (Smiler took down the decoration box ones later); buy them a new tree to decorate next Winterfest (hopefully this one doesn’t go up in flames too); sell the unnecessary fridge, microscope, and karaoke machine in the household inventory (Clement Frost, bring better presents next year!); and buy a new rug for the downstairs (I couldn’t remember which rug they’d had originally, so I found another big one with a pattern I liked -- though I'm actually second-guessing my choice now, especially with that color scheme). I actually want to give the house another small makeover now that they have some money and can afford to upgrade even more furniture and whatnot, but I’ll save THAT for a future update!

-->With that all sorted, I decided that I should probably let Victor and Alice sleep until about 5 AM or so in an attempt to get them on a better sleep schedule. This meant it fell to Smiler to take care of the earliest morning chores -- namely, starting the laundry (and making sure to put a snow drop into the washing machine to guarantee it all smelled nice), refilling the pet bowls (one was out entirely, and the other dispensed its last bowl right after Smiler filled up the other one), and entertaining Surprise and Shadow (after Shadow came in from her chilly nap on the porch, anyway! Why'd you decide to sleep out there next to your own poop and pee, dog?). Ah, the curse of being the one Sim in the family who doesn't have to sleep at all...

-->Not that Victor and Alice are sleeping much, because their excellent bed meant they were up by 4:45 AM anyway. XD I figured that was close enough and had Victor check on Smiler’s Sixam Mosquito Trap plant Snappy (all good) before going downstairs to make himself breakfast (fruit and yogurt parfait, yum yum :D), while poor Alice got to clean out the upstairs litter box and then run down to the back porch to lecture Surprise on drinking from puddles. Specifically, the puddle that Shadow left there. *grimace* Fortunately, Surprise listened and learned not to drink from puddles at all, and Alice was able to clean up the mess with no further “gross pets” incidents. XD I figured things would go pretty smoothly from there --

-->And then I got a message from the game claiming Moory had been unhappy for a while and might be leaving if she didn’t receive an increase in her quality of care. I was like "what?!" and sent Smiler over to investigate. Turns out she was dirty, and since she hadn’t come out of her shed the other day (due to the blizzard -- I mean, can't blame her), she’d been dirty for longer than she wanted to be. Smiler cleaned her off, then made sure she had enough attention by asking about secret cow worlds and suchlike, which fortunately she found amusing. Hopefully that convinces the cow that she’s appreciated around the farm!

And, of course, if the cow was unhappy, the chickens might be too! They didn't have a great day in the blizzard either. So Alice got sent to make sure the coop was clean, the feed was spread, and everybody was well-socialized. Gotta take good care of your animals, after all! Especially if you haven't gotten the upgrade parts necessary to upgrade their coop/pen. (Really gotta start doing Finchwick errands again...)

[betsybookworm]

I used to also have an elderly cat with arthritis and incontinence who was a fluffy girl in a subtropical city. I can't help you with the furniture, but I can tell you what made my cat comfy and happy in her final years. Ash died shortly after her 20th birthday, and she was loving life until her last day - then I could tell she was ready and we said our goodbyes and went to the vet for the last time.

I'll explain what we did to keep her clean and comfy under the cut, but first here's the required picture of Ash, age 19.5, in a couch tent on one of her waterproof pee mats:

Temperature:

Ash got shaved for summer for many years. We were worried the first time, but within a few hours she got over the embarrassment and was loving the comfort of it all. We found a groomer who specialised in elderly cats, and Ash never found the process particularly stressful.

In her last few years Ash had lost a lot of weight, so we didn't fully shave her in summer, and in winter when I left the house for the day I would leave a hot water bottle wrapped in a towel tucked on her favourite chair. She loved that hot water bottle. I was her hot water bottle at night as she always slept with me.

Incontinence:

Ash only had urinary incontinence, if your cat has both then it may be a bit different. Ash's incontinence was more due to her kidney disease (which is what took her in the end) rather than the arthritis. If you haven't already, do check with your vet and do all the urine and blood tests to check kidney function, it is worth it. We caught Ash's kidney disease early and with the help of our vet and prescription food we were able to extend her kidney function for years.

I handled the incontinence with puppy pee pads. They're absorbent on top and waterproof on the bottom and are just the best! I got several large reusable ones and put them in all her favourite spots - she mostly peed while she was sleeping so it was easy to predict where. I did a lot of laundry but it worked really well as a system. Ash very quickly figured out what the pee pads were for and clearly began deliberately sleeping on them and then waiting for me to put down the new ones when I changed them.

She also quickly grew tolerant of me washing her backside in the bathroom sink when she started getting stinky. She hated it, but knew it was for the best so she let me do it. She didn't want to get stinky either.

A friend's childhood cat got flyblown in its old age and had to get put down because of that, and the horror of the possibility of that happening to Ash kept me very motivated to keep her clean. Do not let your cat get flyblown. If you choose not to shave your cat for heat management, consider getting her a "hygiene shave" so her backside has less fluff to get gross.

The vet also gave me tips on the best laundry detergent to get the cat pee smell out of everything. Vets have seen it all! Ash peed all over the vet once and he didn't even blink, just said it wasn't even the grossest thing that had happened to him that day.

Arthritis:

Again, the earlier you and your vet work out how to manage your cat's arthritis the longer she'll be able to move around easily.

Due to Ash's kidney disease, she couldn't have any of the arthritis medications for cats. There are several options I've heard of that can work really well if your cat's kidneys are fine - a friend's 16yo cat with excellent kidneys has just started on a monthly injection that is doing her wonders.

Since Ash couldn't have any of the medications, we managed her arthritis entirely through diet. She ate a kidney + mobility prescription food for a few years that completely transformed her joints and got rid of most of the pain for a few years. When I couldn't get that food anymore I gave her fish oil and that helped a lot as well.

Again, talk to your vet for the best management/treatment option for your cat given whatever else she may have going on.

Everyone says to put out steps for arthritis cats to help them get up on the bed/couch/etc. I did put steps out, but Ash was a stubborn old girl (she was my darling crankypants) and never used them. Instead she demanded the humans pick her up and put her where she wanted. Cats.

Hopefully you and your cat work out systems that work best for you both. I can't stress how much talking to a vet about these issues will help you figure this out. If you can keep your cat at least mostly inside that will really help with a lot of the health risks - I can't recommend puppy pee mats enough, they're fantastic.

Best of luck to you and kitty, OP.

hey bunjy. i have a question. i have an old cat whose incontinent and recently weve had to resort to putting her in our outdoor pool cage (closed off. she cant go wandering out into roads without someone opening a door for her) becauses shes become incontinent and our house reeks of cat piss. i feel bad for her and want her to be happy out there so i was thinking of getting some furniture. we live in florida and shes a fluffy black cat and i dont want her to get overheated or deal with the heat. ive been looking for shaded furniture for her but all the outdoor, weather-proof furniture ive found is too high up for her as she has arthritis and wont climb any step unless she has to. do you know of any weather-proof, low-lying cat furniture that gives cats a a shaded respite from the sun?

uh. I'm not really pet care adjacent, but it sounds like you have more problems than just furniture. does anyone have (constructive) suggestions for improvements?

[get-shiggy-with-it]

RESTORATION AND 18TH CENTURY LIT. - COLLEGE AU!TOMURA X READER

✧ pairing: college student!shigaraki x fem!reader | a little bit of shigadabi

✧ word count: 21.3k  | AO3 Mirror

✧ warnings: Shigaraki being an asshole, lowkey kinda hates women, fem reader only because he refers to her as female (derogatory) like once gender neutral pronouns for reader though the few times its used, Angst and Fluff and Smut Blow Jobs, Anal Fingering, college au no quirks, dabi is a little shit, dirty talk, swearing, like so much, vaginal se, vaginal fingering, oral sex, virgin shigaraki, loss of virginity degradation, mentions of lactation kink, brief exhibitionism

✧ summary: He’d never sat this close to you before, but that didn’t stop you from annoying the shit out of him for the previous whole half semester and going since it was just now passing midterms. Long enough for him to have pegged you as a textbook try-hard, pick-me bitch.And now you were filling his corner of the room with the overpowering smell of freshly washed hair and demanding he do things for you. Fucking disgusting.

Or Tomura get's paired up with you for a big final project in some bullshit English class he needs to graduate and quickly discovers that he even though he kinda hates women, he hates you a little bit less. And also really wants to stick his dick in you.

✧ a/n: First off yes this is a repost. Second: Happy birthday to the best boy and happy birthday to this fic (and also this blog)! In celebration of all the occasions and because I didn’t have time for anything else, I’ve compiled the entire R18CL main series here in one place. It was the first real shigs fic I’ve written and still one of my favorite pieces I’ve ever done. I think you can tell how much my writing has improved just in this year from reading this, but I love it how it is, so enjoy~ And finally, it goes without saying, don’t fucking rec this anywhere else.

The door at the back of the room creaked open and jarred Tomura from his half-sleep state. He didn’t look at who’d bothered to slip into this fucking class late, and instead tried to let the prof’s inane droning on Timothy Whoever The Fuck’s 18th weirdo letter book lull him into day dreaming. 

He only made it about a quarter of the way back into his boredom induced coma until he was dragged unwillingly into wakefulness once more. 

“Sorry, could you plug this in for me?” 

Tomura jumped again when you leaned over to whisper to him, computer charger in one hand, gesturing to the outlet on the wall by his head. You’d left the typical courtesy seat empty between the two of you and he stared blankly at the way you leaned your weight on the vacant chair. 

He recognized you.

The classic, dumbass teacher's pet who was always front and center of the room, iced drink at the ready looking like you belonged on the set of some god awful college b movie. 

Well, almost always. You certainly had that loud ass drink, but you’d tucked yourself at the end of his row towards the back of the room and was clearly a bit embarrassed for bursting in almost 15 minutes late. 

Tomura swallowed hard as your shirt gaped in the front. It took an immense amount of control to not gaze outright into the swell of your chest. 

“You good?” you asked softly, head cocked like you were straight out of a fucking manga panel—tits on display with that stupid innocent, puzzled expression.  

“Uh yeah, sorry,” Tomura mumbled. 

You offered him this gross, clearly fake smile—because why the hell would you be grinning like that if it wasn’t just because you wanted something from him—as he threaded the cord behind his chair and plugged it in. 

“Thanks,” you replied and turned back towards the professor, typing away cause you actually take notes in this class. 

Of fucking course you did. 

Probably trying to impress everyone with how you typed practically every word the prof said. Tomura decidedly did not take notes, and didn’t really pay that much attention in general. Usually he just played some trashy phone game under the desk or dozed with his head against the cement wall. 

It had gotten to that portion of the semester when it was warmer outside but the buildings still had the heat cranked all the way up, especially here in the basement where the classroom was. That environment along with his usual hoodie/joggers combo created grade A napping conditions that Tomura took full advantage of. 

As a rule, he actually cared about school and he did relatively well. But this was just some dumbass liberal arts requirement course that had nothing to do with his actual major, so he was perfectly fine with coasting. Why his comp sci degree required him to take a fucking Restoration era English class, he had no clue. Apparently neither did his advisor other than that the ‘administration recommended it’ so their students would have a ‘well rounded learning experience.’ 

It was almost certainly just a cash grab to make him take more credits than was necessary to graduate, but whatever. He was here now. And so were you. Your presence was overwhelmingly clear, typing away and smelling like one of those insanely specific laundry detergent label scents—fucking rolling meadows and grandmother’s clean linen or something like that. 

He’d never sat this close to you before, but that didn’t stop you from annoying the shit out of him for the previous whole half semester and going since it was just now passing midterms. Long enough for him to have pegged you as a textbook try-hard, pick-me bitch. You contributed to discussion at every opportunity, turned in shit early, and debated other classmates regularly enough to disrupt his in-course sleep schedule. 

The way you dressed pissed him off too, with a particular style that was enough to stand out but not so over the top that it would cause disinterest from any potential mates. 

And now you were filling his corner of the room with the overpowering smell of freshly washed hair and demanding he do things for you. 

Fucking disgusting. 

“Tomura Shigaraki.”

He jumped a third time, attention directed from his lap to the front of the room where the prof stood, listing out names from the board. He heard your name next followed by Kai Chisaki. The list was projected on the board as well, grouping everyone into twos or threes with “Final Project Partners” listed in bold Helvetica font at the top. 

Only fucking English profs used Helvetica. 

He vaguely remembered mentions of a final presentation—one of like three grades in this class cause the prof was almost certainly a sadist. 

No, not almost—definitely. Otherwise he wouldn’t have stuck him with you and that weirdo Kai pre-med student who insisted on acting so elitist you’d think he already had his fucking M.D. 

One time he asked Tomura to move seats at the start of the semester because he looked “dirty” and Kai liked to sit in the back—which, fair enough, it wasn’t like Tomura showered as frequently as he probably should but what the fuck??  

With you rushing in late, chest out and panting every now and again from your apparent sprint across campus, Tomura was certain he’d be subjected to a whole 6 weeks of watching you try to mount that fucking Kai dude instead of actually working. 

This was going to be a nightmare. 

From the end of the table, he saw you shifting and turned to find that stupid fucking smile flashed his way once again. 

If you had a tail, he’d bet it would be wagging. 

“Hey, well that’s convenient,” you chuckled and plopped down directly next to him, sliding your noisy ass drink across the table with you and brushing against his thigh when you shifted your bag to the side. 

“Yeah,” he nodded.

It most certainly was not. 

But Tomura would never say that because—as his roommate put it so kindly—he was kinda a pussy. 

People made him nervous, they always had. That’s why he liked computers so much. Code made sense, there were clear rules and when something didn’t work out, he could fix it eventually, but you couldn’t see people’s codes. You had to fucking guess at shit and it made his anxiety skyrocket which the sides of his neck and finger tips suffered for. 

So he cowered like the fucking dog you probably thought he was instead and kept his eyes on the floor, letting you set up in silence. 

“Who was our third?” you asked, glancing around the room. “Sorry, I was busy making a shared drive and I came in  late so I missed that last bit.”

Why the hell did you feel the need to apologize all the goddamn time? Seriously, who would believe you were actually sorry for being irritating as hell. 

And god if he thought you were irritating. 

“Kai,” he grumbled simply as the man in question sauntered over to the table and fucking clorox wiped down the seat before sitting. 

Tomura watched your smile falter just a bit and grinned inwardly at the slip in your fake little persona. But you didn’t say anything more, just moved your chair back so the three of you were in a semi-circle and pulled up a few pdfs on your laptop. 

“Cool, so I was looking over the directions on the syllabus last week and I set up a little work delegation thing so we can distribute everything pretty evenly,” you jumped right in, tone matter of fact in the down-to-business manner he was used to hearing from you during class discussions. 

It was better than you so clearly forcing yourself to be overly polite, and he honestly couldn’t really care less if you wanted to take charge of this thing. You seemed kinda bossy, but he begrudgingly admitted that your suck up behavior did mean you sort of knew what you were talking about. He was just here to pass and you might actually make that a lot easier. 

It was okay as long as he was taking advantage of you, he told himself. And you would be too stupid to notice, so he could play your game and play pretend nice all the way to an A. 

That walking condescension on the other hand— 

“I’m not doing that,” Kai huffed through his ever-present mask. 

Tomura wasn’t actually sure he’d ever seen the bastards face without it. 

“What?” you laughed awkwardly. “Yes you are, you don’t really have much of a choice.” 

You stared at your classmate who simply stared right back with his own, equally confused expression. 

“Why do you look so surprised?” you asked after a moment of silence. 

You weren’t smiling anymore and your voice had dropped down about a fucking octave. At least you sounded more like a person and not some wannabe uwu gamer bitch.

“People don’t talk to me like that,” Kai looked at you down his nose, legs spread wide and elbow resting on his knees. 

Tomura could feel the pretentiousness wafting from him in waves, and waited with baited breath for you to get kicked off your pedestal. Just a bit though, he did need you around to do most of his work for this thing. 

But in a shocking turn of events, you just laughed dryly twice and turned back to your laptop screen, mumbling as you did. 

“Really? Well they should.” 

Tomura would have laughed too, but he didn’t feel like inflating your ego. Kai on the other hand looked a bit like you’d just spit on shoes and furrowed those stupid, plucked thin eyebrows at the back of your head. 

“So Tomura, you code right?” you asked, turning away from Kai completely to address him. “I just remember you saying you were in comp sci when we did introductions.” 

He was taken aback by the knowledge that he existed as a person in your head outside of this room for a moment and simply nodded—suddenly feeling far too hot in his black on black sweats and hoodie. 

God just talking to you made his skin burn. 

“Great, cause we’re allowed to chose the medium we present in and I was thinking of taking it in a more creative direction cause I’ve had this prof before and he eats that shit up,” you begin to ramble again, scrolling through a bulleted list, shifting the screen for him to see. 

“Right,” he murmured, still surprised you’d thought this far and not...actively hating what you’d brainstormed. 

Well, it was a bit juvenile and you clearly didn’t know what you were talking about but the concept wasn’t horrendous. He could work with that and it shouldn’t be too hard. It kinda seemed like you’d overestimated a bit with how challenging it would actually be and saddled yourself with most of the heavy lifting. That or you were just a control freak which was a little more believable. 

He wished you would stop looking at him over the edge of the screen. He could feel himself starting to sweat. Rivulets falling down the nape of his neck and racing across his bare chest under the sweatshirt. Tomura sorta regretted not wearing a shirt underneath but he knew that he wouldn’t have taken off the insulating layer even if that had been an option. 

It would just mean you had more drying, pale as fuck skin to look at and judge him for because he knew that’s what you were doing. Fucking vapid and shallow like everyone else. 

“It’s really rough so far, but I have it the gist outlined,” you indicated to another tab and then turned back to Kai who had been sitting silently glaring daggers into your back. “So, Kai, since you’re in STEM I figured you’d be okay with doing more of the preliminary research—”

“I don’t think so,” Kai interrupted, shaking his head and pushing off his knees to lean back in the cheap, plastic seat. “Look, it’ll be easier for all of us if you two just make it look pretty and I can handle the oral presentation.” 

You gaped and looked to Tomura with this pathetic fucking incredulous stare, like you thought he’d back you up. 

Which actually, now that he thought about it was probably a good idea—he did need you to remain somewhat cordial with him—but he certainly didn’t care enough to defend you in any way. Kai was a dick, sure, but he wasn’t gonna let you rope him into being your white knight or whatever. 

He settled for a similarly disgruntled downward twitch of his lips. The movement pulled at the cracking skin which stung as it tore open even more. Tomura felt the familiar crawling feeling on his neck and shifted in his seat to resist the urge to scratch. 

He couldn’t pinpoint why exactly you staring at him was so uncomfortable. He didn’t like you, he didn’t care about you and by extension didn’t give two shits what you thought of him, but anything he might have said shriveled on his tongue when you spoke or looked in his eyes too long. 

Tomura had never made a habit of talking to females and they certainly had never wanted anything to do with him either. 

Maybe he was fucking allergic or something. 

Whatever the case, you seemed to take his half frown as a sign of solidarity and leaned back in your own seat. 

“Okay, look,” you retorted. “If you’re seriously not gonna at least try to cooperate, then there is actually an option to do the project by yourself and I suggest you take it.” 

The look on your face was distinctly impolite. There was a sharpness to the set of your jaw that Tomura had never seen before, but it looked practiced enough that he could bet it was simply the snake that resided in every woman just waiting to come out. 

“Look sweetheart—” that masked jerk began, also for some fucking reason looking to Tomura for support. 

For someone who was very much used to blending into the background scenery, this was the most eye contact Tomura had ever made in a day. 

Except on the rare occasions his roommate had friends over and he had to make the dreaded trek from his room to reach the fridge. 

“Oh yeah I’m not doing that,” you closed your laptop sharply and rolled your eyes. “I get it, but I’m really just trying to graduate. I don’t think this is going to work out and you,” Tomura froze as you shifted your gaze to him once again, “seem okay, so Tomura and I can just work this out by ourselves and you can find a different group.” 

Kai scoffed behind the black layer of fabric covering his mouth and slung his backpack over his shoulder. “Whatever.” 

Tomura watched him saunter straight out the door as the room was filled with the shuffling of notebooks and zipping of backpacks. 

“God,” you huffed and turned back to him. 

His raw skin burned under the new wave of heat and accompanying moisture that slicked his skin when you scooted closer to him. That clean laundry and shampoo smell was suffocating from this proximity. 

Did you fucking bathe in the stuff? 

He was becoming increasingly aware of his less than pleasant aroma and the fact that you not scrunching your nose up in disgust just out of some stupid, ingrained need to appease him. 

“Well, that was...weird,” you chuckled in a way that was probably meant to break the tension. 

Unfortunately Tomura felt more like he was about to break out in hives if you came any closer so it really just ended up making the atmosphere ten times more awkward. At least for him. You, somehow, remained resolutely unaware. 

“Mhm,” he hummed in response and picked silently at the skin of his fingers. 

“Anyway, I have a meeting in a few but we can trade numbers and pick a time to meet up sometime tomorrow maybe?” you suggested, quickly saving the steadily degrading vibes of the conversation and pulled out your phone. 

He really hated the full body pulsation that rushed through him at the thought of getting a girls number. It made him fucking sick at himself for falling into your stupid trap to get him interested. Was your plan to just use him to get a good grade or whatever and then block his texts?

It wasn’t like Tomura didn’t know about his status as the class ‘freak.’ That one guy everyone whispers about and makes sure not to sit next to. And he knows you know, so why the hell else would you act so nice?

He wanted to say something scathing in return. That he could do the whole thing by himself too—which he definitely couldn’t but that was irrelevant—and that he didn’t need you bossing him around either. 

“Sure thing,” he said instead and took your offered phone all too eagerly, typing in his number and watching as you shot off a text back so he’d have yours. 

His phone buzzed against his thigh and he jumped a fourth time, but you seemed not to notice as you packed your bag and grabbed your basic ass drink. The ice clattered against the tumbler, dropping cool condensation against the searing skin of his hand. 

Tomura shivered as you waved over your shoulder and slipped out the door with another rush of students. 

He sat silently in the empty room for a moment, trying to process the last hour. He pinched himself idly, wondering if it had all been just a weird dream, but the results were inconclusive. A minute or two passed before he pulled out his phone to scroll through the list of reddit and discord notifs to find your text. 

Sent at 2:47 pm:

— pEopLe DoN’t TaLK tO mE liKE ThAt 

— not very plus ultra of him...smh

— anyway, library at 6 tomorrow ?

Tomura caved, digging his nails into the side of his neck and hissed at the pain, confirming the day's horrible reality. 

---

Tomura hadn’t stopped staring at his phone since he left the apartment. It was second nature by now—head down at a nearly ninety degree angle, hoodie pulled up to hide hair he hadn’t bothered to comb in weeks, and phone out, held just far enough away that he could see the pavement behind the screen. 

He’d found that people tended to naturally avoid him this way and he didn’t have to risk accidentally making eye contact. It was still a bit nerve wracking to venture into buildings he didn’t expressly have to for classes, so he was still hesitant to make the voyage from his apartment to the library.  But he’d made the mistake of mentioning plans to his roommate and the bastard wouldn’t leave him alone about it afterwards until he was practically shoved out with the door locked behind him. 

He was half tempted to make up some excuse last minute and go hide out at the only cafe on campus he could tolerate, but Tomura knew he was just delaying the inevitable. Biting the bullet now would help to not prolong his suffering. 

Your text thread glared up at him in stark white on blue as he pushed past a crowd of students by the library entrance and flashed his ID to the attendant. 

Group Project Bitch:

— hey I got us a room on the third floor, all the way in the back

—text me when you’re here I’ll wave you in, it’s kinda hard to find T-T

sounds good— 

He shot off a quick text to you that he was hoping on the elevator. The other two guys in the lift may have given him a dirty look for only going up to the third floor, but Tomura sure as hell wasn’t going to risk the physical exertion of stares when just the thought being stuck in a small room alone with you for god knows how long already had him sweating. 

When he stepped out, you were leaned against one of the 90s-green shelves, scrolling aimlessly through your phone. He panicked momentarily, thinking he’d have to get your attention cause just walking up without saying anything would be weird right? 

He wasn’t sure. 

He didn’t do shit like this. 

Thankfully, you looked up at the chime of the lift and waved him over. His red sneakers squeaked as they scuffed the linoleum floors and he already regretted choosing his tighter fitting pair of sweats. The tapered legs that hugged his ankles and thin calves rubbed against his skin and stung the raw patches. 

“Hey, thanks for coming,” you said softly and he nodded, following as you began to weave through the stacks. “Sorry it was short notice, graduation’s coming up so I'm swamped with meetings.”

“It’s fine, I didn’t have anything going on.” 

He cringed internally at the way his voice cracked, trying to keep the usual rasp to a minimum. His roommate said it was from the innumerable hours he spent shouting at his monitor or on discord, which was probably true but to you he was sure he just sounded like a fucking teenager. 

“Cool, I’ve been set up for awhile so feel free to move some stuff,” you talked a bit louder now that you’d both stepped into the study room and shut the door. 

Tomura looked around. You’d snagged one of the nicer ones at least, with the big monitors he could cast his screen onto and those comfy chairs he liked but could never beat anyone too on the lower floors. 

You were right, there was shit all over the big table at the center of the room. Notes and printed out readings with highlights galore and sticky notes littering the pages were scattered all over. What a show off. You probably tossed all this stuff out so he’d think you were actually intelligent or some shit. 

Kicking a pile off of the nearest plush armchair, Tomura took a seat and pulled his laptop out. There was a jack in the middle of the table and you plugged yours in to cast onto the big monitor. 

You made a fucking power point for him. 

This couldn’t be real. 

“So I know I ran some stuff by you in class but essentially I was thinking we make like a simple Twine type thing using the rhetorical argument Swift is making…” 

You started rambling again and Tomura almost immediately tuned you out. His eyes drifted between the rough outline you were flicking through on the board and the laptop you had your nose buried in. 

It was covered in stickers, pretty obviously stereotypical for someone as obsessed with being ‘cool’ as you clearly were. But as he scanned through the various old meme phrases and aesthetic shit, he caught a couple of game references he recognized and a panel cutout from one of his favorite manga. 

He almost fell into your trap for a moment, feeling a rush at the prospect of someone—much less a chick—being into his main hyperfixations. 

But it was quickly crushed under everything his years trolling subreddits had taught him. People like you didn’t actually have interests beyond the attention and dick it got them. Plus that manga was pretty popular anyway, you probably didn’t even read it, just thought the line was funny or made you sound quirky. That had to be why you felt the need to drop it in your first texts. 

“What do you think?” you asked, making good on your new habit of startling the hell out of him. 

Tomura blinked, gaze instinctively turning to you but the blatant way you stared made his mouth turn to sand paper, so he looked resolutely back at the color-coded bullet points on the screen. 

“Look’s fine,” he mumbled. 

The more he glanced over it, the more it actually did look fine. A bit more than fine, really, which pissed him off even more. The little choose-your-own debate style story was not a terrible way to make fucking Whatever Swift interesting and it kinda looked like you’d bothered to google some simple coding which gave him a better idea of what you were looking for. 

It was...good. 

And that so fucking annoying. 

Well, he wasn’t sure if annoying was the right word for it, but the proposal coupled with your apparent lack of disgust at working with him made his face hot and that only ever happened otherwise when his roommate left the dishes out for weeks or when some newb on his server fucked up their raids. 

Then, you had the audacity to plop down in the chair next to him and— 

“You can tell me to fuck off if you want,” you began, shuffling in the chair to cross your legs on the cushion, “but I was hoping you’d be willing to show me how you do some of the coding stuff? I tried on my own, but I have literally no clue what I’m doing.” 

He could smell you again, like the whole fucking health and beauty aisle at the grocery store. When he turned his head a bit to look at you around the curtain of his hair, you were crooked—back against the armrest and facing him. 

“Why do you want to know?” he asked, sounding a bit less rude than he would have liked to. 

You just fucking stared right at him though, didn’t wrinkle your nose at how greasy his roots were or how he was wearing the same hoodies as yesterday. 

“I’ve always been interested in it, but my program is kinda stressful and I don’t have much free time so I never learned,” you offered and for once Tomura found he didn’t feel his skin crawl under your unwavering gaze. 

The dry, cracked area around his eyes burned though as sweat beaded on his forehead and he quickly wiped at his face with a loose sweatshirt sleeve. The garment hung off his shoulders, bought a size too big that he never ended up growing into. 

“What’s your major?” 

He found the words slipped easily from him. It was the quintessential question you asked of anyone in college when you met, but he’d never been interested in the answer before. 

You babbled a bit about your specific area of study and your voice was surprisingly not as infuriating as he remembered it being before. It was softer, he thought, than when you were soapboxing in class about the sexist implications of old as fuck poetry—it had a less grating quality and was almost pleasing to the ear. 

Or Tomura would have said that if he thought you deserved the compliment. 

But, obviously you didn’t. 

So he didn’t. 

He just pretended to care about what you were saying and didn’t hang onto every word at all. Actually he was more enraptured in the way your lips moved when you talked. You used your hands a lot too, but his eyes were ensnared on the way your mouth quirked and dipped, at the occasional flash of your tongue between strong teeth. When he leaned in a bit, he could smell your breath too: fruity gum and the remnants of whatever you were always drinking in that loud as fuck cup. He wondered now what exactly it was, so he could buy it and get a better idea of what you mouth might taste—

Nope. 

No, see this was exactly what he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about. How were you doing this to him? What a fucking slut. 

Tomura steeled his nerves as you started explaining the extracurriculars you did on the side. 

“My roommate freshman year actually started a gaming club and so I’ve gotten more into that over the years,” you explained, pointing at the stickers on your laptop case. 

“Are you talking about The League?” 

“Yeah, I didn’t know if you’d heard of it,” you shrugged.  

He knew of the gaming club on campus. He’d thought about joining when he enrolled but the allure of anonymity online gaming provided was too strong. Plus his discord server didn’t have annoying weekly meetings. 

The thought of you, up late and illuminated by the blue light of a tv screen, tucked away in one of the basement rooms in the media building was...strange. It also prompted an array of new images—you in those fucking cat ear headsets, seated in his lap as he trashed you in Mario Kart which was even stranger. 

Tomura had to physically shake his head to dislodge the thought. 

“Uh, we should probably work on this right?” he cringed at the way his voice cracked compared to your own, smooth tone. 

You should narrate those fucking sleep time mediation things. His roommate used to hide wireless speakers in his room and blast those when Tomura stayed up too late. It was annoying as shit then, but if it was you talking, he probably wouldn’t have minded so much. 

Or no, no he would definitely mind. 

Yes. It would have been worse if anything. 

“Oh shit, you right. It’s been like two hours.” 

He glanced down at his laptop and saw that it had, indeed, been two hours since he got there. He’d willingly spoken to you for two goddamn hours. It felt like no time had passed at all, but the sun was definitely setting, the overhead fluorescent bulbs taking over as the main light source in the room. 

Weird. 

So you settled back in your chair, typing away like you always did, but the sound wasn’t nearly as frustrating as before. Occasionally, you’d glance over his shoulder and ask questions about what he was working on, but mostly the two of you settled into a comfortable silence. 

This pattern continued for the next few weeks. As the weather warmed, you began to show a bit more skin. He never worked up the nerve to comment on the thick expanse of bare thigh that tapered off nicely into your calf, or the curve of your arms not hidden behind knit sweaters—hell even your fucking shoulders were hard not to look at. 

Maybe all those high school dress codes weren’t actually so full of shit afterall. Cause he was definitely distracted by the way your neck swooped into the exposed skin of your shoulder and down your back on more than one occasion. 

Did all girls know that? Was it some kind of massive conspiracy to crumble the patriarchy or some crap to go flashing bare shoulders everywhere? 

Regardless if you really were trying to hypnotize him into liking you, Tomura stayed resolutely in his monochrome, long sleeved attire, and if you noticed the behavior you never said a word. 

Never said a word about his allergy ridden skin, peeling lips or scarred throat. Never commented on his terrible posture or said his eyes were creepy. Even when he’d occasionally toss a negative remark your way, you never retaliated maliciously. Just brushed him off with a jovial ‘don’t be a dick’ and a playful, but hard slap to his chest or the back of his head. 

The two of you always met in the same, secluded room on the third floor. You’d talk with him in class sometimes or shoot him texts about random bits of inspiration or a late night game memes, but for the most part, your conversations were confined to that room. He found he preferred the study room ‘you’ best. You weren’t as stiff. There was more of a solidity to you, like he’d seen when you told off that Kai bastard. 

It...grew on him. 

He was irrationally anxious that there would be a time when you couldn’t secure this particular room—with it’s big monitor and comfy chairs and less annoying ‘you’—but he’d been reassured after your third work session. 

Someone had knocked softly at the thick, wooden door and a head of wild, bright pink hair peaked around the crack. 

“Sup bro,” the intruder quipped, as they stepped fully into the room. 

“Hey, Spinner,” you mumbled back, looking up momentarily from the essay portion of your presentation before going back to typing. 

Spinner had seemed to notice him at that point and offered a small wave in his direction. “Oh hey, sorry, thought you were alone,” he said quickly. 

“Nah, this is Tomura,” you said, glancing up again and jerking your thumb in his direction. 

Tomura nodded and tugged at his hoodie strings to stop from scratching under the newcomer’s gaze. He’d gotten used to you, but other people still made him a bit nervous. 

“Nice to meet you,” Spinner had a nice smile, bright and flashy when he spoke. He leaned against the door and crossed his arms, looking around the room. “You got the nice one, huh. How’d you manage that?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” you half closed your laptop and stretched a bit. “Jin was working the front desk, so I’ve just been bribing him with vending machine snacks.” 

“He hasn’t gotten himself fired yet?” Spinner laughed incredulously, but not unkindly. 

“Surprisingly not, but he’s completely corrupt now,” you were picking at the cuticle of your thumb and Tomura fixated on the way the skin split off at the nail. Just like his. “A couple packs of chips and a Monster and I get the most bitchin’ study room whenever I want.” 

“Damn,” Spinner chuckled again and Tomura really wished that he’d leave already. He was beginning to feel himself fading into the upholstery as the conversation left him in the dust. The divergence of your attention away from him or the project was even more annoying that you were. “Well, are you coming to The League meeting tonight? We’re busting out a Smash tournament.” 

“That’s tonight?” you asked, eyes perking up but sliding subtly in Tomura’s direction. “Sorry, I think Tomura and I are gonna be working on this project for a while longer and I’m kinda burnt out. But next time, yeah?”

Spinner rolled his eyes but nodded and kicked off the wall. “That’s not very sexy of you,” he chided and waved a hand in parting. “Gonna work yourself directly into the fucking grave.” 

“Jokes on you, I welcome death.” 

You buried yourself in the screen again and Tomura actually felt a bit grateful for you ending the conversation before he got too painfully awkward. 

But Spinner stopped before he left, looking Tomura up and down from the frayed strings of his black hoodie to the tips of his worn red sneakers. 

“Nice to meet you, man,” he said with a wide grin. “Feel free to tag along next time if you want, we always need more players.” 

The door clicked softly shut behind him and Tomura relaxed back into the silence.

He did end up tagging along—though he spent most of the time hanging off your heels like a lost puppy—to the next meeting of your gaming club and the one after that. Frustratingly enough, he learned that your interests did also extend into skills as you almost bested him in a few rounds Smash. Your profile, lit only by the flashing screen lights, was even more striking outside of his imagined imitations. 

So much so that it found its way into his head late at night when he was too tired to log onto his server. So much so that it had his cock growing firm and tenting his grey sweats without even the visual aid of his go to porn clips. So much so that sometimes, he felt inclined to do something about the throbbing between his legs. So much so that he thought about the way you picked the skin by your fingers. How it looked like his. How your hand might feel like his but softer. Smoother around the edges. With your sweet voice whispering in his ear, making him whine and pant and spill white ropes of release onto his stomach. 

But it was only because you were hot. 

And you were practically begging for him to jack off to the thought of you with those outfits and liking all the shit he liked and noticing when he shrunk away from conversations or including him in them when he started to feel that awful sense of fading into the background. 

Yeah. 

Everybody jerks it sometimes to their group project partners if their ass is nice enough. 

Right?

---

Dabi’s mouth was wet and so fucking warm as he swallowed around Tomura’s dick. 

“Oh fuck…” he groaned as Dabi hummed around his length and did that thing where he flicked the ball of his tongue ring over Tomura’s slit. 

Bright blue eyes stared up through deceptively long lashes, smirking at the way Tomura drooled as he got his soul sucked out the tip of dick. The mattress underneath him creaked at the negligible weight of both their bodies. Dabi settled on his stomach between Tomura’s pale thighs leaving fingerprint bruises in soft flesh. 

They did this sometimes, though he wasn’t not quite sure when exactly it started. Dabi had been his randomly assigned roommate freshman year and he grew so used to living with him that the two of them had just silently, yet mutually agreed not to fuck something up that wasn’t broken. They both berated each other for their strange and somewhat disgusting habits—Dabi would say that Tomura was a gross shut in creep who needed a fucking shower and Tomura called Dabi out on his slutty pastimes and obsession with piercing the hell out of every available inch of skin. 

And sometimes they sucked each other off. 

It was overall not a terrible arrangement—Dabi got his fill of dick and Tomura could no longer be made fun of  for being completely inexperienced. Plus, as much as he was loathe to admit, Dabi was really fucking good at oral. Like, demonically good. He’d been going down on Tomura for so long now too that he’d learned all the things that had him spilling onto that pierced tongue in minutes. 

Tomura jerked from his thoughts when two, lube slicked fingers prodding at his ass. 

“Dabi, what the fuck are you—” he protested, wiggling his scrawny hips up the bed and inadvertently letting his cock slip out of the inviting heat between his roommate’s lips. 

He couldn’t see much other than the shaking mop of black hair and pale hands with chipped black nail polish digging into his legs and yanking him back. 

“Shut up freak,” Dabi slurred, words slick with spit and Tomura’s precum. Dabi said it tasted like battery acid, but it never stopped him from guzzling it like he did with cheap whiskey and cigarettes on the weekends. “I know you like it.” 

He did like it but he wasn’t about to contribute to the fucking manic grin Dabi was giving him as he circled the tight ring of muscle, slipping in a finger to the first knuckle. 

Tomura’s head flopped back on the pillows as he bit back a low moan, “Fuck off.” 

“If you say so,” Dabi shoved his finger in roughly, squeezing a second in behind it and letting Tomura bask in the burn of being stretched too quickly before ripping his hands away. 

“No!” Tomura wailed pretty fucking shamelessly and grabbed the retreating wrist, placing Dabi’s tatted hand back on his dick that throbbed and leaked painfully. 

“Dude, what’s gotten the fuck into you?” his roommate asked, smirking still, but pumping his cock loosely nonetheless. “Our walls are thin as hell, you know I can hear you jerkin it in here every night, and now you’re practically begging for me to suck you off. Usually I gotta come to you.” 

He was infuriatingly right again.

Tomura had indeed asked for him to do this, which was definitely out of character for him. Most of the time they ended up in this position, it was because Dabi spent hours hounding him about it or just fucking dropped to his knees and whipped Tomura’s cock out in the middle of a movie night or snuck into his room while Tomura was gaming and swallowed him whole just to laugh at the way his online friends reacted to the noises. 

He’s just been so pent up lately, and you insisting on fucking touching his arm or sitting on the floor between his feet at League meetings was really not helping it. 

“I don’t know,” Tomura lied, both to Dabi and himself in the hopes that the head of black hair would just go back to bobbing on his dick like he so desperately needed it to. 

“Bro, I have fucked with enough people to know when they’re wishing I was someone else,” Dabi scoffed and ran a blessedly hot tongue from base to tip and suckled softly at the blush pink head before pulling back with a wet pop. “So who is it?”

“I’m not fucking thinking about anyone,” Tomura hissed, fisting Dabi’s spiky, black locks and thrusting into his mouth till he felt the contractions of Dabi gagging around his length. “Usually you're jumping at the chance to get dick in your mouth, so why does it matter?”

Dabi pulled back, wiping the silvery string of spit leaking past his lips away and scowling as his fingers ghosted over Tomura’s balls and sank back into his pliant ass.

“Seriously creep, I’m five seconds away from ghosting and you can fuck your hand like the sad little bitch you are. So tell me their name or I’m walking right now.”

Tomura huffed as he felt Dabi’s long, rough fingers pulled from him again and the heat of his mouth growing farther away. 

“Ugh fine, it’s that bitch I’ve been working on the English thing with.” 

Dabi made a face like his brain was buffering. 

“Seriously?” he asked, mouth gaping in a way that had Tomura even more furious his dick wasn’t buried in it. 

“Yes!” he shouted and grabbed Dabi’s cheeks in both hands, sinking past his waiting lips and practically purring when he felt them close around the base as his long tongue massaged the shaft. “Oh god yes…” 

Dabi rolled his eyes, managing to look smug even with a cock stretching his lips taught against the piercings. He used to try and tease Tomura about how small his dick was, but it was hard to believe him. Especially with how he choked sometimes when Tomura got rough with him despite his boasts of lacking a gag reflex. Not to mention how he looked now, jaw probably aching with the stretch and loving every second of it. 

Tomura lazily bucked his hips up and whined high when the fingers in his ass curled and thrust against that fucking spot he hadn’t known was there until Dabi found it for him. 

The pleased sound he made tapered off into a growl though, when his roommate with questionable benefits pulled off again to run his slutty fucking mouth. 

“Tell me about it,” he mumbled, kitten licking at Tomura’s cock and running the ball of his piercing through the slit again. Tomura gulped when he pulled it back into his mouth to swallow the bead of precum he’d collected. “I’ve seen your fucking paramour around before, pretty serious about school though. And Kinda out of your league too, not gonna lie. So, what would you do if your cute little partner was here instead?” 

Tomura bristled at the insult but couldn’t keep his pissed off look when Dabi went back to sucking his cock like a pro and curling those fucking fingers against his prostate. When he did speak, he blushed hard at the way his voice cracked and sounded like he was crying. 

“I don’t fucking—holy shit—know,” he gasped and Dabi hummed both to egg him on and to get a whole new wave of precum gushing out of Tomura’s dick. 

“C’mon man,” Dabi groaned, and Tomura distinctly heard the sound of a pants zipper and felt Dabi’s hips canting against the sheets. 

That fucking masochistic whore. He would get off to Tomura dirty talking about someone else while he sucked his dick. 

He considered stopping the whole thing right there, but then Dabi was sinking a third finger into his ass and thrusting hard while he hallowed his cheeks around Tomura’s cock and sucked— 

“Tits!” Tomura cried and covered his burning, red cheeks with his hands. “I want to put my fucking face in them and taste them in my mouth. Sometimes I can see the outline of their nipples when we’re working and the air conditioning comes on and I want to suck on them so fucking bad I can’t think about anything else the whole night.”

Once he got started, Tomura found the words just spilled from him like a dam had burst. Dabi, the depraved bastard, groaned loud and ground his pierced dick harder against the mattress as he continued to deep throat Tomura’s cock and fuck his ass at the perfect angle. 

“Sometimes when they drag me to their stupid club I lose the rounds cause I—oh god, oh fuck—just imagine them in my lap, sitting on my cock and fucking writhing and squeezing me while we face off. Such a fucking—Dabi more!—stereotypical try-hard, bitch but I want to be inside them so fucking bad,” he felt actual tears stinging the raw corners of his eyes when Dabi sped up on his dick. 

Tomura scrapped his nails against Dabi’s scalp, holding on for dear life as his breathing became even more ragged than usual. His friend’s cruelty streak reared its ugly head as Dabi sensed the tensing of Tomura’s balls and the clench of his tight ass and slowed down a fraction, keeping him teetering on the edge of an explosively pleasurable release.  

“Fucking asshole,” he growled, but didn’t dare try to fuck Dabi’s face lest he make good on his threat to leave Tomura high and dry. “I just—shit, ah, don’t stop—they talk to me sometimes and I just wanna suck their tongue into my mouth so they shut up and I need to hear them fucking falling apart for me or using that stupid, stuck up teacher voice on me and fucking my ass—Dabi Fuck—is that what you wanted to hear?”   

Dabi, because he got off on being a little shit, gave him one last delicious swallow before pulling back and fisting Tomura’s sopping wet cock. The fingers had stopped thrusting and were now pressed hard against his prostate, sending shocks through his body and making him twitch violently as his blood rushed with endorphins. He never stopped grinding his own dick against Tomura’s cotton sheets the whole time. 

“You got it bad huh, don’t ya creep,” he mused, letting a fat glob of spit fall from his lips and keep his palm slick. “That’s the most I’ve ever heard you talk about fucking anything, much less another actual person.” 

“No I fucking don’t, “ Tomura writhed against the pillows, giving in to the undeniable urge to simultaneously fuck up into Dabi’s hand and ride his fingers. 

“Who knew you were such a desperate whore, falling for the first person to show you a modicum of attention,” Dabi jeered and squeezed the tip of his dick hard, listening to Tomura let out a choked sob. “I’m actually kinda proud of you, bro. My little neckbeard baby’s growing up.” 

Dabi cooed at Tomura, sinking sharp teeth deep into the meat of his thigh and sucking a bruise into the flesh. 

“You’re the one—nghh—getting off on it,” Tomura clapped back but didn’t bother denying it again. 

There was a sense of dread growing in his gut alongside the mounting pleasure of his orgasm that Dabi was currently holding hostage. Dabi may have had  a dickish personality just as massive as the actual dick that was currently painting Tomura’s comforter in stains, but he knew him. 

And he did, admittedly have much more experience with these types of things than Tomura. 

“Fuck yeah I am,” Dabi grunted. “Last time I let you return the favor you bit my fucking cock. I gotta get off somehow.” 

“Don’t say rude shit to me and I won’t bite you.” 

“Watch it, Tomura,” Dabi huffed and nipped at his thigh again. “You should be thanking me for my services.” 

“Not if you’re gonna keep running your mouth instead of sucking me off,” he tried to sound intimidating but he was well and truly wrecked and couldn’t find the energy to give his words an edge. 

“You should ask them out,” Dabi continued, ignoring Tomura’s failed attempts at banter. “Bring ‘em over or some shit. Maybe then if I lock down that blonde piece of ass I’ve been talking to, we’ll both have much more interesting things to go down on.” 

“Your whore ass is the one always jumping me, don’t act like it’s a fucking chore,” Tomura groaned as Dabi started licking at his cock again, pressing sloppy, half kisses on the tip as he jerked it in his fist. 

“Not my fault I get bored sometimes,” he replied and closed his eyes as Tomura clenched particularly hard around Dabi’s relentless fingers. “But seriously, you should go for it. I’d kill to find out if you’re just as bad at eating pussy as you are sucking dick.” 

“Fuck y—” Tomura started to say when Dabi reared up till they were chest to chest and their foreheads knocked together. 

“I fucking will if you don’t shut up, creep, and I think it’d be so much better if you handed your fucking virginity to that pretty little partner bitch instead,” he said and stunned Tomura into silence when he licked into his mouth. 

Dabi had kissed him before, but Tomura could count the number of occasions on one hand and almost all had been when his punk ass roommate was drunk as hell and in his feels about some tortured past. But Dabi’s eyes were bright and lucid now, blinking down at Tomura as he dragged their tongues together, flooding his mouth with the faint taste of cigarettes and jizz. 

Their cocks brushed together too, the stimulation making Tomura whine into Dabi’s lips, who dropped a merciful hand down, taking them both in his fist and began pumping. 

He didn’t stop as he pulled back, grinning down at Tomura like a fucking maniac—all shitty tattoos and silver piercings. The little barbels that stuck through Dabi’s nipples brushed against his own and made him moan at the cool metal and hot skin on his sensitive chest. Tomura was fucking sensitive everywhere, as Dabi had helped him discover, probably from a lifetime of being touched more by cheap sweatshirts than human hands. 

“Now,” Dabi grunted as he thrust loosely against Tomura’s cock and his own fist before pulling away to settle back between his legs. “Shut up and cum down my throat—gotta give your virgin ass a refresher on mind shattering orgasms, so you know if that bitch is any good or not.”

Tomura’s tongue was halfway around a witty comeback when Dabi swallowed him to the hilt once again and started working his ass even harder. He really fucked hoped the neighbors were not home to hear him get his shit rocked at 2pm on a fucking Tuesday, cause Dabi might have been flunking out of his classes but he’d get a goddamn a plus for sucking dick. 

The hand on his thigh, spreading him open, migrated to his hip so that Tomura could snap his legs shut hard around Dabi’s ring littered ears as he guided Tomura to grind down on his hand. The pressure in his gut built up exponentially higher now that Dabi wasn’t trying to hold him on the edge of climax. It took an embarrassingly short amount of time for him to acquiesce to Dabi’s request, as he tightened up in a full body clench before gripping Dabi’s hair and spilling rope after rope of hot, sticky release straight onto his roommate’s tongue. 

Dabi, the fucking slut, made a show of swallowing every drop that spilled from Tomura’s abused cock, milking his prostate the whole time and only letting Tomura slip from his mouth when he was soft and finally spent. 

The fingers in his ass remained though, still for the most part and slowly dipping in and out every so often. Tomura whimpered and clenched but was somewhat thankful for the remaining feeling of fullness. 

“So, did you really mean all that?” Dabi asked with his signature smirk. “You really want your group project partner to cockwarm you and fuck your tight little ass?”

“Fuck off,” Tomura scowled and smacked Dabi hard across the face with an errant pillow. 

Dabi yanked it from his grasp and tossed his ammunition onto the floor. “Hey, it’s not actually too bad in here,” he wiggled his fingers for emphasis which elicited an embarrassingly high gasp from Tomura, “give ‘em my number if you need a reference for asshole tightness.” 

“Get the fuck out of my ass and my room,” Tomura kicked at Dabi’s back as it shook with laughter that lacked it’s usual sneering bite. 

“What? Saving the cuddles for your new S/O?” he shot back and nuzzled his cum and spit covered face into Tomura’s neck. 

With their chests pressed together, Tomura could feel the cooling, sticky remnants of Dabi’s own  release coating his stomach. He squirmed against the feeling and pushed at the offending chest until his friend flopped down onto the scant space left between the mattress and the wall. 

“Ew,” Tomura ran a finger through the mess Dabi had left smeared on him. “I’m taking a fucking shower.” 

“God, finally!” Dabi exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air and producing a cigarette from god knows where. He let the paper rest between his lips unlit. “I should have thought about getting you fucked out on the reg earlier, creep, if it’ll stop you smelling like ass.” 

Tomura launched the discarded pillow which hit it’s mark with a dull thump. 

“You better be fucking gone when I get back,” he hissed and stumbled naked, on shaking legs into the hall and to their shared bathroom. 

Dabi’s cackling followed him until the door shut and the lock clicked behind him. Tomura turned the water on quickly, letting steam cloud the mirror before he jumped under the spray. The only products on the shelves were Dabi’s for the most part with the exception of a store brand bar of soap and some 3 in one shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. 

Tomura new he should clean himself more often, but his skin was so fucking raw all the time it hurt to do, so he mostly avoided it unless the smell got really unbearable—or Dabi was painting him in jizz whenever the opportunity presented itself. 

He tried to get in and out as quickly as possible so he didn’t have the opportunity to think too hard about the admission his fuck buddy roommate had pulled from him mid blow job. Because if he did, in his post nut, clingy state, he’d most certainly imagine you were with him, tits pressed against his back and your soft, insistent tongue dipping past his lips, tasting like fruit gum and expensive cafe drinks instead of nicotine and cum. 

And he really couldn’t handle that, cause Dabi was right, he had something fucking bad for you and the thought of another rejection loomed large. 

When he did towel himself off and shuffle, still naked back into his bedroom Dabi was nowhere to be seen. Tomura’s phone however, was left sitting right next to the jizz stain on his sheets. He frowned at the open balcony door where Dabi was no doubt smoking and snatched the device before tumbling onto the pillows. 

He powered it on and scrolled through his notifs before one caught his eyes. You and Dabi were really the only people that ever texted him, but the contact name above this one had changed. 

bitch (endearing)

— hey, starting an impromptu round of Smash soon if you’re interested <3

The stupid text heart made his chest throb and he stared at Dabi’s new nickname for you, not even noticing the fucking grin that tugged at his cheeks. 

He bit his lip to stop the twitching when it pulled too hard at the chapped skin and scrambled for his clothes before shooting a quick confirmation text back. Tomura opted for his only pair of black jeans this time instead of sweats and the least stained sweatshirt he owned. 

Dabi peaked around the corner when he heard the clink of Tomura’s keys. The bastard was smoking in just a pair of underwear that left half his ass on display for all the whole fucking street. He smirked, quirking his eyebrows and bringing his hands up to slip his index finger through the circle of his middle and thumb on the other hand in a silent, vulgar gesture. 

“Screw off,” Tomura shouted over his shoulder and made for the door. 

“Wrap it before you tap it, bro!” Dabi called after him, cut off by the slamming door. 

Tomura took the stairs two at a time, pulling out his phone and tucking the hood over his damp hair, this time to hide the growing smile playing at his lips. 

---

Your project was almost complete. 

In some ways, it sort of felt like the end of an era. To Tomura, who was, by nature, a creature of habit, it was doubly strange to imagine no longer spending hours a few days each week locked away in your little study room with you bugging him to teach you simple html and him not-so-discreetly sniffing your hair. 

He still hadn’t asked you out or whatever he’d been trying to do, much to Dabi’s chagrin. And because of this, Tomura was consistently plagued with the feeling of time running out. 

You were supposed to meet today for probably the last time seeing as the presentation was coming up at the end of the week. He knew it was now or never at this point. If he didn’t fucking say something now, he never would and then he’d have to live with the same his roommate wouldn’t let him live down. 

So instead of heading directly to the library after class, Tomura took the old route back to his apartment and shot you a quick text—praying to the fucking boner gods, as Dabi called them, that you’d take the bait. 

hey would you mind putting the finish touches on shit at my place?— 

there’s some parts i gotta do from my desktop— 

It wasn’t completely a lie. It was nicer working from his pc setup, but before he wouldn’t have let you come anywhere fucking near there. Not until he’d finally accepted that you’d wormed your way into his brain somehow and he couldn’t live another day not knowing what your tongue tasted like. 

bitch (endearing) 

—no problem

—what’s your address?

Tomura’s heart fucking pounded mercilessly against the bony prison of his ribs. It wasn’t like he was a stranger to some good old fashioned anxiety, but he’d never felt a strange stirring in his stomach quite like this. Like he might puke, but in a good way. 

He quickly sent back his street and apartment number, and waited on the corner for you to text back that you’d be there in an hour before he rushed inside. 

“What the hell are you doing, creep?!” Dabi snapped at him when he burst through the door and yeeted his backpack onto the kitchen table. 

Tomura didn’t answer, just made a beeline for the bathroom and slammed the door. He doused himself in record time, unbothered by the hot water causing red, patchy flare ups to bloom over his skin. He was almost disgusted with himself for putting in this much effort for someone like you. Someone being definitely kind of a slut if the way you dressed was a good indicator. But he just kept thinking about the way your hair or skin smelled so goddamn good when you leaned in close and he wanted you to be obsessed with him in the same way. Wanted you to want to bury your face in his neck and breath him in. 

When he stumbled out into the hall moments later, towel drying his hair roughly, Dabi was taking a shot over the sink. 

He looked at Tomura like hell had frozen over. 

“Two showers in like a month?” he mused, sucking his teeth as the alcohol slid down his throat. “What’s the occasion? The fucking, second coming of Christ?”

“Well the bitch is coming over so…”

“Oh, that is a fucking miracle,” Dabi whistled and knocked back a second shot. 

Tomura glared, stepping into his room and tossing his towel aside to tug on his nicest pair of black joggers and t-shirt that gapped a bit at the front, showing off a large expanse of his chest. It made him a bit nervous even just looking at his reflection but you definitely stared the few times he’d taken off his hoodie while you were working, so the risk seemed worth the reward. 

“Yeah, well you’re gonna have to piss off for the night,” Tomura shouted into the kitchen as Dabi sauntered over to lean against his doorframe. 

“You know, I conveniently do have a dick appointment with my own bitch, but now I don’t want to go.”

His tone was teasing, eyes hooded and clearly enjoying how flustered Tomura was already before you’d even gotten here. Tomura moved to snatch another pillow and do battle but Dabi raised his hands up quickly in defeat. 

“Oh no, no, I just fucking did my hair for this Keigo asshole you are not gonna ruin it with that petty shit,” he shot back and disappeared somewhere into his own room. “I’ll be out of your greasy ass hair don’t worry.” 

Tomura seethed and bit back of reply of his hair for once not being greasy as hell, but the multiple cum stains—both his and his nasty fucking roommates—marring the comforter caught his eye. 

“Ugh,” he mumbled and balled the whole thing up, shoving it under the bed and spreading out one of his merch blankets from that manga you both liked. 

Hopefully you wouldn’t think that was too cringey, but he had definitely seen your room plastered with merch in the background of your social media profiles which he totally did not stalk at all and maybe jerk off to on occasion.

The rest of his room was quickly cleared by a combination of shoving random crap into his closet and filling up their recycling bin to the brim with empty energy drink cans. He tackled the kitchen next which wasn’t as hard as he’d expected. Neither he nor Dabi cooked all that frequently, so the dishes weren’t an issue and the vague, lingering smell of whatever the fuck Dabi had been smoking early was cleared out a bit by leaving the balcony door ajar. 

He checked the time on his phone obsessively, about ready to pound on Dabi’s door and throw him out on the step when the man in question emerged on his own—black platform boots donned with his ass hugging ripped jeans and loose tank top. He had on fucking eyeliner.

God and he thought Tomura was being desperate. 

“What? Wishing you’d locked this down first?” Dabi sneered, grabbing his jacket from the rack and shoulder checking Tomura on his way to the door. 

“I—” he stammered for a second, bristling as Dabi towered over him a bit in those fucking boots. “No, asshole, just leave before they get here.”

But at the exact moment that Dabi rolled his eyes and flung open the door, Tomura’s phone buzzed in his pocket. Looking up in mingled horror and embarrassment, he watched the door hit the wall and reveal you, a little more casually dressed than usual looking stunned as Dabi grinned down at you with pierced lips. 

“Hi, I’m-” you started but Tomura’s live-in nightmare cut you off. 

“Oh I know who you are, dollface,” Dabi wiggled his fucking eyebrows at you, clearly playing up the dramatics as much as possible to a degree even Tomura didn’t think he could pull off. “Name’s Dabi—” 

“Uh, yeah and he was just leaving,” Tomura hissed and placed his shoulder firmly in the center of his roommate’s back, launching him onto the welcome mat as you side-stepped through the door. 

“Yeah, see ya later creep,” he fucking winked as the door slammed shut in his face. 

Tomura’s cheeks burned in the following silence which was only broken by your quiet chuckle. He noticed you did that a lot. Laughed at things without even thinking about whether it would sound weird. 

“He seems like a lot,” you mumbled and glanced around at the living room/kitchen/foyer of his tiny apartment. 

“Yeah…” 

He thought he might feel the same sort of disturbance he usually did when Dabi brought his dates home but you seemed to fit easily into the space, unobtrusive but bright against the dingy walls. 

“So, should we get to it?” you asked with a wry smile, spinning to face him and silhouetted by the sun set filtering in past the balcony. 

He may not have felt the usual discomfort of intruders in his space, but his hands shook where he clutched at his thighs nonetheless. And just like always, if you noticed the bunched up fabric and the not so slight tremor in his bony arms, you didn’t say a thing about it. 

You looked so good propped up on his bed, back against the wall and legs dangling off the sides as the now strangely comforting sound of your furious typing filled his room. It had been a few hours now, and Dabi had been true to his work, seemingly gone until tomorrow morning. The room was lit only by your screens and his small desk lamp that lit up your legs like a stage spot light. 

His mind fogged over more than once with the fantasy of laying in between them. 

“I just shared the final bit of script,” you said, breaking the comfortable silence. 

The notification pinged at the top of his screen and he hummed in acknowledgement, plugging in your last pieces of text and saving the program. 

And just like that. 

It was over. 

“I think we’re done,” Tomura whispered. 

He didn’t really mean to say it so softly but it felt strange to talk at full volume so he just rasped out the words, knowing you wouldn’t care how shitty his voice sounded. 

There was a creak and soft footsteps behind him as you shuffled off the bed and over to his desk, hands resting way too close to his shoulders than necessary while you leaned over his chair to look at the finished product. 

It was still a little rough around the edges but Tomura found himself feeling a little swell of satisfaction now that it was complete. All things considered, you’d come up with a pretty damn good concept and he liked knowing he played a role in helping it come to fruition. 

The piece you picked was weird as shit. Some political satire about eating babies, lots of juxtaposition about the private life versus the public self and some bullshit rants on the nature of humanity blah blah blah. 

It actually reminded him of you a little bit, now that he thought about it and used your position as an excuse to stare intently at your eyes scanning the screen. Not the eating babies thing, but the whole private self stuff. In the half semester he’d spent locked away with you in quiet rooms and noisy, dimly lit basements, he could see such a stark contrast between the you he’d known from class all those weeks ago and the you currently sighing in relief over his shoulder. 

Softer, more real—not so Stacy, bimbo, pick me slut like he’d always imagined you to be. 

“Damn, we did it my guy,” you nodded, clearly impressed with yourself and him as well, which had Tomura’s chest puffing out just a bit under the attention. “I could fucking kiss you, I thought we’d never get it done.” 

You turned to him, eyes closed in a half laugh but Tomura was so far from laughing. Cause you were really, really fucking close and he could smell you again and you’d been chewing that fucking gum cause it was hot on your breath and he knew, he really did, that you were kidding, that tis was just a thing people say when they’re relieved but he couldn’t help the weird, deer in the headlights stare that his face froze in. 

Blinking, you raised your eyebrows at him questioningly when he didn’t make some crude comment about your chest brushing against his arm or shrug you off like he might have before. 

And then you got this knowing, little mischievous look that reminds him far too much of Dabi for a split second before you pressed your face just an inch closer. 

His eyes flicked down instinctively to your lips and his face burned when realized there was no way you didn’t see the way he looked at you. Shockingly, despite the churning in his gut and the shaking in his legs, Tomura leaned forward just a bit too, working up just enough scant courage to maybe close the gap, but then you started laughing? 

It bubbled up quietly in your chest, more of a giggle than anything else. 

You were laughing and shaking your head and his stomach fucking dropped to the ground and his face was on fire cause you were laughing and that meant he’d been fucking played like a goddamn fiddle but— 

But then you gave him this faint smile and you weren't laughing anymore, because you were kissing him. 

You were fucking kissing him. 

Which, while yes he had set out to have this be the end goal of the night, he hadn’t actually believed it would ever happen. He’d never felt it in his bones, like he was supposed to. 

And holy shit your lips were so soft??

So soft and smooth with no cool, sharp metal poking or pulling at the splits on his. It was like fucking crack, or what he imagined crack might be like with the way your mouth just glided against his. It was so easy to follow you, which was good cause he didn’t have a goddamn clue what he was doing for the most part. But you made it feel simple, and you even ran your tongue over the little scar that bisected his lips in this painfully adorable way that had Tomura pitching a tent in his pants like lightning. 

God but when you pulled back and just enough to look him in the eye— 

It was like every one of those cutesy, shojo manga suddenly made sense. The panels where the main character’s look at each other and flowers bloom off the fucking page while they stare with those dark, hungry eyes— 

Yeah. 

Yeah he got it now. 

And he was gonna ride that wave while he had it. So Tomura steeled himself and surged forward, grabbing both your arms and smashing his face much less gracefully against yours. He stood and you straightened with him, that same half giggle slipping out in the gaps where your lips parted on his as he clacked your teeth together and pulled back at the jarring sting. 

“Eager are we?” you have that stupid smile on your face again but he honestly didn’t care anymore if it was an act or if your face really just looked like that with no fucking ulterior motive.  

“Shut up,” he muttered, trying to catch your lips again and you mercifully let him. 

And Tomura nearly fucking came in his pants when your licked into his mouth and oh fucking god he really could taste the gum and that loud ass shit you were always drinking. Dabi was right, this was a fucking miracle. Did other people always taste this good or was it just you? 

He responded enthusiastically to say the least, sucking your tongue into his mouth and letting out a choked little noise when you licked at the back of his teeth. The movement of your legs, pulling him back towards the bed went mostly unnoticed until he felt himself tipping forward, landing with a thump on top of you as you both tumbled onto his mattress. 

Tomura’s lips wondered boldly down your throat, smelling the soap or lotion or whatever the hell made you so fucking baby smooth compared to him and he actually growled into your nape when you laughed again. 

“God, what the fuck is so funny?” he sounded muffled from where he was tonguing at the fleshy joining of your neck and shoulder. 

“Sorry, sorry,” you pressed your lips against the peeling crown of his head and that alone made up for the interruption, “I’m just basking in the glory of being right.” 

“About?” Tomura nipped at your skin once before lifting his chin to rest on your sternum. 

“I just always thought you were sorta into me, but it was hard to tell cause you’re so quiet about that sorta thing.” 

“....oh,” he didn’t really have an argument for that so he didn’t try to fight you. 

“Did you think I didn’t notice all the convenient excuses to touch me or like the fact that you’re mean as shit to everyone else but me?“ you asked not unkindly as you stroked a hand through his hair, frizzy from being left to air dry. “I also got the vibes you thought I was kinda a slut anyway and it wasn’t super clear if that was a turn on or not.” 

He cringed a bit at the blatant way you acknowledged all ruder inner monologues about your character. 

“Well, I did a bit initially,” Tomura glanced off to the side, suddenly finding the chipping paint much more fascinating. God he really wanted to get back to the good stuff. “But I don’t now…”

“Oh no,” you cupped his face, running a thumb against the cracked skin on his cheeks and didn’t cringe when the drying skin flaked onto your shirt, “that was a pretty astute assumption.” 

“Uh, what?”

He felt his draw drop and you dipped your thumb past his front row of teeth, towing with the pooling saliva. 

“All the better for you though,” you continued dragging his chest against yours so he could feel your nipples through his shirt, “cause that just means I know how to show you a good time, and I get the feeling you’ve never had that happen before.” 

You punctuated your words with roll of your hips against the fucking iron rod in his pants. The noise that left Tomura was inhuman. He thought back to the day you got partnered with him. How he thought it would be a fucking nightmare and Tomura wanted to let the record show that he officially retracted that statement. This was in no uncertain terms, actually a wet dream come true and he was sure Dabi would never fucking believe  him unless he walked through the door right now. 

“That works,” he stuttered around the finger in his mouth and you reared up to wrap your legs around his waist. 

Your lips found his again and he hummed in approval only cut off as you rolled so he was laying back and looking up. When you pulled away, he shivered at the way you raked your nails over his chest. 

“So, you gonna tell me how much of a disgusting whore you think I am?”

---

“I don’t—”

He couldn't finish the sentence, not when you were grinding down on him like that. How the hell did you even know how to move your hips in those little circles? Was there some Being a Massive Slut for Dummies book he was missing out on or?

“C’mon, Tomura, we’ve been through this,” you sighed and leaned down to such a trail of sloppy kisses from his jaw to his ear, biting down on the soft flesh, “I know you’ve been thinking so much nasty shit about me, the least you can do is let me hear it.” 

Those hands on his chest were moving again, curling into the hem of his t-shirt and tugging until it was over his head and tossed aside on the floor. On an embarrassing instinct, Tomura’s hands shot up to cover himself, only stopped when you leaned onto your haunches and tugged off your own. 

“Shit,” Tomura whispered. 

You weren’t wearing anything underneath. 

He drank in the sight of those cute fucking tits he’d only ever caught glimpses of through those low cut tops you always wore. You grinned down at him, both hands coming up to play with your chest, fingers pinching and rolling the pretty buds. Tomura felt drool slip from the corner of his mouth. 

“Is that all you got?”

He wasn’t completely in control of his body as it catapulted off the bed to smash his face between your squished up tits, but neither of you were complaining if the sounds that followed were any indication. You hummed happily as he pressed his cheeks to the warm, soft flesh and his lips closed around your nipple, sucking and laving his tongue over the pebbled skin. 

“You really wanted everyone to see these, huh?” he meant the words to have more bite but it was hard with your fucking boob in his mouth. 

And he wasn’t looking to stop suckling at you anytime soon so….

“They’re nice tits, what can I say,” you shot back and he couldn’t wait to have you fucked so stupid all those witty one-liners would die on your tongue. 

You fucking tasted so good. He hadn’t ever thought that tits would have a fucking taste but it was like some odd combination of skin and spit and it was addictive. 

“Got a whole fucking eye full that first time you talked to me in class,” he growled, sinking his teeth in hard enough to leave a mark around your nipple. “Fucking parading them around every time you leaned over. Thought you were so fucking desperate for attention.” 

If you really wanted to know all the vile, gross shit he thought on the daily then who was he to deny you that pleasure. 

Cause you were definitely feeling some type of way about it based on the way your fingers threaded through his hair and held him to your chest as he tongued and bit at the skin. 

“Think I’m just a stupid attention whore, is that it?” you moaned when he switched breasts, palm kneading at the one he’d abandoned. 

“I think you’re a useless slut who’ll do anything to get a guy to fucking look your way,” Tomura gasped and sunk his teeth in again. 

A shiver ran through him at the whine leaving your lips. 

He did that. 

He needed to do more of that immediately. 

“You like it when I call you a fucking slut?” 

Tomura didn’t know what came over him in that moment—what weird spirit of horny confidence possessed his body—but suddenly, with a surge of motion, his hand left your chest and latched onto the smooth column of your throat. The move had actually been quite graceful until he tried to flip your positions and got his legs tangled with yours, resulting in more of a...sexy pile than the smooth transition of power he was going for. 

You didn’t seem to mind though. 

You never did.

Tomura guessed if he was going to admit something nice about you, then it would be that at least you were consistent. 

“I do like it when you call me that,” you breathed into his ear, hands under his arms to haul him back over top of you and replace the hand at your throat with a smirk, “and you love that it’s true.”  

Fuck. 

He really did, now that he thought about it. All those message boards always talked about finding virgins who you could mold to your dick just like they were meant to be, but…he was so fucking anxious at the best of times, having those eyes that pissed him off and knew it made this so much more fun. 

There was probably a more eloquent word than that, and you would probably more than willing to supply it, but the goal was to shut you up and he wasn’t gonna be okay with just coasting this time. 

“God, you need to learn how to shut the fuck up,” he spat and subsequently yelped as you leaned forward, licking a wet trail up his chest before latching onto one of his nipples. 

The flushed, pink skin disappeared into the heat of your mouth, leaving his dick twitching violently in his pants that had grown too tight and damp for comfort. The languid motion of your tongue over the rapidly pebbling flesh and the goldilocks perfect way in which you nipped at him was enough to corroborate all your claims of experience. With the constant, electric spark pleasure running from his chest to his pants, Tomura found formulating sentences a little challenging, so he just said the first thing that came to mind. 

“Why don’t we give you something even better to with that fucking whore mouth, hm?”

It was cliche as hell, stolen straight from one of the admittedly plentiful pornos he’d watched in his day, but you just grinned and popped off his nipple, nodded frantically at the innuendo. 

Those clever little fingers that seemed to type without ever stopping dropped to the waistband of his sweats and tugged them down his thighs. He kicked a bit awkwardly to get them off his ankles but you were already yanking the elastic of his boxers. You smiled up at him through your lashes as you tucked the fabric just under his balls and let your eyes wander slowly from his splotchy red chest to the patch of hair just at the base of his dick. 

If he hadn’t known better, he might have thought you were drooling. 

Tomura felt a bit more in his element here, having had some actual frame of reference—as his asshole roommate was so generous to provide—so he didn’t waste any time. Falling onto his back, he squirmed up the sheets until his head was resting on a pillow and you were crawling between his thighs. God and you and you had your ass up too, wiggling it back and forth like you were wagging your tail at just the thought of getting his cock in your mouth. 

Well, since you were so eager, Tomura decided to jump right in. You seemed to like things a bit rough anyway, so he reached out, burying a hand roughly in your hair and plunging in. 

The cute and kinda disgusting choking gasp you let out was addictive. 

And now he fucking knew Dabi was lying about his dick being small, cause you had a big fucking mouth to talk all that shit and it was absolutely stuffed full. Your lips were stretched obscenely not even halfway down his shaft and your eyes were already pricked with tears at the edges. The fucking feel of your mouth was like how he imagine silk might feel, if it was soaked and scorching. Your throat constricted around him as you gagged and oh it was fucking cock sucking heaven he was in. 

Tomura was almost tempted to grab his phone and snap a— 

Actually, that was a fucking great idea.  

His free hand fumbled for his pants, closing around his phone and unlocking it while you hummed and pulled back, bobbing your head twice before sinking back down, Your eyes flew open when the camera flash lit up the dark corner of his room. He could feel you trying to move away, to snap at him for taking his little keepsake but he quickly fisted your hair and bucked his hips up to keep you firmly on his dick. 

“Oh no, you were so eager to suck me off, you’re gonna finish the fucking job before you breathe again,” he panted, holding the sides of your face and fucking your mouth in earnest. 

He’d found it easy to simply follow the instinctive rhythm of his hips, constantly seeking out the wet heat source. Your eyes rolled back in your goddamn as his length slid past your lips over and over again 

Holy shit it felt so good. 

And it felt even better when he could see how much you loved it. 

How much you loved his filthy fucking almost virgin cock shoved down your throat and he finally felt the vulgar dam in his mind break. 

“I think about you all the time,” he gasped, keening high when you ran your tongue over his slit on ever upstroke, just how he liked it. “I lay here at night and fuck my hand and think about sinking into your tight fucking cunt. I wanna fill you up so bad, it’s the only thing on my mind whenever I talk to you.” 

The only thing stopping him from cumming straight down your throat in that moment was sheer horny force of will. 

“When you mouth off in class, all I hear is you just begging for someone to bend you over and fuck that cocky fucking arrogance right out of you,” below him, you reached a hand up, pinching hard at his nipple and humming at the squeal he made. “Fuck, and I want eat your pussy while you’re up there presenting this shit, so I can watch you try and keep it together so know one else knows what a fucking whore you are for me. Such a fucking slut for me.” 

Something was washing over him, some weird, intense revelation of something that perhaps he’d always known but just needed the motivation of a fucking earth shattering blowjob to work out of him—that he wanted you. Really wanted you. Felt entitled to you. He’d spent so much mental energy obsessing over it, that really, no one else fucking deserved to touch you but him. 

No one else would want you this much. 

No one else would want him this much.

Your hands had found their way to his thighs and they were rubbing sweet little circles into the soft skin. 

“You’d love that wouldn’t you?” his voice was wrecked, even more than usual, from the near constant string of high pitched whining “You’d love to have me fucking ruin you, make you cum all over my tongue in front of everyone. Let them fucking know who does that shit to you.” 

You managed a nod, even with his cock buried deepdeepdeep in your throat. And Tomura was fucking twitching at the thought. The muscles in his legs jumped under your touch. A slimy mix of spit and precum was gushing down his length, slipping over his balls and slicking his ass. It was sloppy and the room was so full of the wet slap of his hips against your mouth. 

It was so much, too much, oh shit, shit he didn’t want to cum like this— 

“Wait, wait!” he cried, back arching with the agony of leaving the plush paradise between your lips. “Please—I wanna cum in you.” 

You looked up at him, head hanging from his grip in your hair, with your jaw slack and dripping and nodded. He felt as though his ribs were lined with magnets that pulled him into your outstretched arms, kneeling as he pressed his mouth frantically to yours, uncaring of the mess of the faint taste of bitter precum. 

There was something frantic in the air, like a switch had been flipped. The need to feel you, to be connected at every point— to get just a little bit more of what he’d earned—grew stronger with every passing second. 

His lips were rough and raw and stung when you licked them but that only made it sweeter. You tongued at his teeth and sucked him into your mouth like he was warm food after months without. It was needy. Needy and ragged because you needed him. 

You needed him. 

What a fucking thought that was. 

Your pants were quickly discarded along with his boxers, and for the first time in his life, Tomura didn’t care about all the exposed skin. He didn’t think about all the unsightly patches of irritation or scaring, because you never had. Not once had you ever stared or commented and you weren’t starting now. Your hands smoothed over every inch of him, just as desperate like he always knew you would be.   

Because you were so— 

Perfect. 

Fucking disgusting. 

Tomura let you fall back onto the mattress and whimpered at the feeling of your thighs hitched around his waist. He made the mistake of letting his eyes leave your mouth to glance down and oh, oh he was enraptured. 

Dabi was right, he’d never actually seen a pussy in real life and holy shit. 

His fingers gravitated immediately to your lips, fucking soaked, soaked in arousal that had smeared on your thighs. 

“You get this fucking hot just from my cock in your mouth?” he asked, grinning as he collected some of the slick on his fingers and brought them curiously to his mouth. 

Delicious. 

“Yes—fuck—yes!” you whined and pulled him closer with your thighs. 

“You want me to fuck you that bad?” his fingers ghosted over where he thought your clit might be and was rewarded when you moaned low as he brushed over a raised little bud. “Does this nasty little slut want me that fucking bad?”

“Please Tomura…” his name on your tongue was better than any crazy ass party drug Dabi ever brought home, “you have no fucking idea how long I’ve been wanting you so fucking deep in me—”

Your words cut off with a sob as he ran his fingers down, searching for your entrance and sinking in hard when he found it. And it was so nice in there. So fucking hot. 

“What are you?” he asked, thrusting his fingers in and out, trying to remember how Dabi did it to him and what felt good.

He plunged them deep and curled up towards your belly and you sobbed, “A fucking slut!” 

God he was so glad no one else was here to hear that. 

This was just for him. 

“And who’s fucking slut are you?” 

He really could help himself, he just wanted to hear it so fucking bad. 

“Yours,” you whined and rolled your hips down so his thumb caught on your clit and. “I’m your fucking slut!” 

“Shit,” he rasped and ripped his fingers from you. 

He wasn’t entirely conscious of his movements. There was just one, very loud voice, screaming in his head to bury his cock in that perfect fucking heat and suddenly his was gripping himself and pushing in and— 

“Ahh, fucking god,” Tomura whimpered, body going limp as his tip was sheathed fully inside you. 

His forehead dropped down to rest against yours, arms like half cooked pasta on either side of your head, failing to hold him up. You brought your arms up, sliding fingers through his hair and down his back as your ankles locked right above his ass to urge him forward. 

Tomura’s cock sunk in inch by inch until he bottomed out with a groan. His mouth moved even when the rest of him couldn’t

“So tight…” he mumbled, head slipping into the crook of your neck and sucking lightly at the skin, feeling the comfort of it in his mouth. “Didn’t think it’d be this tight.” 

“Are you trying to insult me or were you just a virgin?” you huffed out, but there was a laugh bubbling just behind the words. 

He weakly held up to fingers to indicate the second, dropping them immediately to clutch at the sheets when you clamped down on his cock, nestled sweetly against your cervix. 

“Wait really?” you asked, hands skimming up his back to grip his cheeks. 

Tomura tried to hide himself in your shoulder, because the fucking dopey ass smile on his face would surely feed your ego and he didn’t need you knowing that your pussy had him fucking higher than a goddamn kite. 

If only his bones hadn’t suddenly taken on all the physical properties of jello. 

“I’ve fucked around before,” he said, which was technically true, “just never...like this.” 

He didn’t even need to move—which, well, wasn’t entirely true he was burning with the urge to drive himself frantically into your dripping cunt—but he was so blissed out from just the soft, warm, tight hug of your walls around his cock that pulsed precum with ever clench, was enough. 

What he wouldn’t give to have this all the time. Have you constantly sitting on his cock, keeping him warm and hard and cumming inside you. 

At the reminder of why exactly he’d set out to do this, his body regained a bit of it’s former solidity. 

“Oh,” you began, voice strained and hips shaking with the effort of not rocking back on his dick. “Well, you feel fucking amazing—”

Tomura cut you off with an experimental thrust. He pulled all the way back, watching as his tip just nearly popped out of your cute fucking hole and then snapped in again. You were a fucking mess above him, gripping at the pillows and then at his arms, dragging red scratches down the pale, fragile skin there.

It only spurred him on. 

“You like that? Like my huge fucking cock in you?” he growled, flopping down so he could feel your nipples brush against his while he railed into you. 

As much as you apparently enjoyed hearing all the filth that spewed from him, he really liked having a receptacle for it all. It had been hidden inside him for so long, the release was only made sweeter with the addition of your slutty fucking pussy clenching at every word. 

“So fucking big, Tomura—”

You rocked up to slip your tongue into his mouth again, sucking softly at his rough lower lip and drinking down all the less than dominant cries that poured from him as his release grew again. He wasn’t really sure how to get you off, but you seemed to understand the intentions behind his hand wandering to nudge at the space he was driving his cock into. 

Those soft fingers held his and guided them up to that nub he’d found before and moved his hand in little, rhythmic circles that had you fucking sobbing into his mouth. 

Real tears streaked down your face as you moaned into him, “Oh fuck, yes Tomura, baby, just like that…!”

And for once, he had absolutely no qualms with doing exactly what you said. He wanted—needed—to know what it would feel like for you to cream all over his dick. Wanted to see the stupid fucking face you would make as he ripped you apart on his definitely massive length. 

You were rocked back into ever thrust, drinking in the sound of slapping skin, mouth permanently attached to his—tongues locked together.   

The taste of fruit gum mixed with salty cum and the smell of sweat and sex and cleanlaundryshampoo was fucking everywhere. It was intoxicating and heady and all he had ever needed. 

Really, you weren’t so bad when you were crying on his cock.

And you were fucking crying, screaming for him—his name, calling him ‘baby’ in a way that had his heart stuttering uncomfortably in his throat and babbling about how good, how fucking perfect he felt inside. 

“C’mon,” he grunted, “c’mon, I wanna see my fucking slut cum for me, all over my cock.” 

And for once, you actually followed an order. 

His fingers on your clit never gave up and he could fucking feel the orgasm wash over you. Your cunt spasmed and clamped hard like a vice, tighter than anything he ever could have imagined. And you choked out his name, so desperate:

“Tomura, fuck yes baby!”

God your face was so good, all scrunched up and then relaxing into a blissful, panting, open-mouth grin.  

It was sort of beautiful. 

But he wasn’t gonna fucking say that. 

“Good fucking slut,” he said instead, and arched his chest into yours so he could feel the swell of your pretty tits against his chest. 

And he almost fucking lost it right there but he needed more, needed to feel full too. The clenching of your pussy was so unmatched by any sensation but he guessed Dabi always called him a greedy whore for a reason. 

His hand grabbed at yours—hips only letting up when he couldn’t actively get his dick out of you as you came—and brought it roughly to his lips. Tomura was still slick, covered in spit and sweat but he sucked two of your fingers into his mouth anyway. His tongue delved between them as you watched with wide eyes as he spat onto them and whined.

“I need—oh shit—inside, inside...fuck…” 

He could fucking get his tongue to make words but he dragged your hand to his ass and prayed you’d get the hint. Prayed you’d fill him up too. 

And you certainly delivered. 

His hips started up their unforgiving rhythm again now that you’d rode out your release, slipping even more easily into your pussy with all the slick spilling out of you. God that would be his cum soon—his cum dripping out onto your thighs. Your feet dropped to the bed and Tomura grabbed your waist for leverage. 

Your clever little finger circled his hole, wrist bent from the awkward angle below him but working nonetheless. His spit and precum made less than ideal lube but he welcomed the burn of you entering him. A second one joined behind the first and it was rough going for a moment until he was able to rock back fully, finding a certain bend of the knee and half thrust that had him simultaneously grinding into you and fucking himself on your fingers. 

And then you managed to get deep enough to brush against that fucking spot, that magic fucking spot that had him seeing stars and screaming your name—not slut, not bitch, not some other fucking cruelty—your name and spilling rope after rope of hot cum against your walls. 

Your eyes did that thing where they rolled halfway up and crossed like this was some fucking hentai and you weren’t knuckles deep in his ass while he came inside you. 

Tomura went completely limp then, boneless like a cheap chicken wing and collapsed onto your chest, whimpering when your fingers left him empty but comforted by the rhythmic clenching of your cunt, warming his cock and keeping his cum safe inside. 

“So good,” you whispered into his hair, soft palms smoothing over his back in slow circles. “Felt so good, Tomura. You were so good.” 

He shivered in your arms, lulled by the feeling of your breasts under him and breathing in the mixture of soap and sex that radiated from your skin. Everything about it was strange, but in that wonderful kind of way that new games sometimes were. A tingling at the prospect of a new adventure, a new world, and a new journey to embark on. 

You pressed your lips to his sweat slicked forehead and didn’t turn away in disgust. 

No, instead you just held him on his cum soaked sheets and slept. 

---

Tomura woke about an hour later, dick finally soft and tangled in a knot of limbs with you on his bed. You’d stretched and let him kiss you without asking, accepting his tongue on yours just as easily as you had before. 

After detangling yourself from him, you left to take a shower and Tomura found that he couldn’t bare the notion of being apart from you for more than twenty minutes now even more than he couldn’t fucking stand showering, so he’d joined you anyway. 

You didn’t talk much and neither did he, but it was that same comfortable silence you’d formed in your little study room hideout. He let you drag him under the spray just long enough to wash most of the jizz and spit from his thighs before he stepped back to lean on the tile and watch as you rinsed yourself. 

Only once did you mention the rough, scaly skin on his neck and face. Your hand was gentle, roving over the cracks and asking him if he’d tried any soap for sensitive skin. That yours was like that too and you’d let him borrow some to try out. He blushed at the implication of seeing you again after this. 

It was well past midnight when you toweled off and dried him as well. He lent you one of his few clean t-shirts and you wore it without any underwear. Tomura shameless stared at your bare ass when you bent over to strip the ruined comforter from his bed. 

He thought about burying himself in you again, and because he hasn’t dressed yet—and you don’t push him away when he presses against you—he does. And you moan for him again when he fucks you from behind, just as rough but it all comes easier the second time around. 

You told Tomura, later—when you were both exhausted again and stained with release—he was kinda a natural and something about the praise really got to him. 

“You’d fucking know,” he snipped at you, curled on his side with his face in your tits. 

This was his new favorite position, he’d decided and he snickered at the thought of planting his face right in your chest while you were both in class. He’d pay money to see the horrified look on your prim fucking face. 

“Yes I would,” you hummed into his hairline, mouthing softly at the baby curls around his crown. “So, when are you gonna take me out?”

Tomura felt the loading circle of death spinning in his brain for a moment. Like a 404 error had occurred somewhere in amongst his neural pathways. 

“I thought you said you were a slut?” he asked and almost immediately wished he could quit the game, even if it meant he had to replay all the scenes before this moment. 

But you didn’t pull away. 

You really never do.

He thought idly that you both must have some weirdo bug making you enjoy all the disgusting bits of the other. 

“Well yeah, but that doesn’t mean you can’t take me on a date if that’s something you’d like,” you chuckled and he felt your chest rise with it and the breath on his forehead. 

He nestled his face deeper into your tits, “yeahsurefinewhatever.”

The lips pressed to his head smiled but you didn’t say anything again for a long time. Not until both of you were drifting off again, falling into the trap of shared body heat and the odd human craving of skin against skin. 

“Your freaky roommate isn’t going to walk in right?”

Tomura grumbled, mouthing at your nipple and suckling softly, “no, you’re mine now, he can’t have either of us.” 

You signed contentedly for a moment, moaning lightly as he swiped his tongue over your sensitive skin before the words caught up to you. 

“Wait, what?”

“Nothing, go to sleep.” 

You didn’t push it any farther, or remove Tomura from his sucking at your tits. It was quite possibly the most peaceful night of sleep he’d ever gotten, which only ensured the fact that you would never be allowed to sleep anywhere else. 

This was your responsibility now, after all, and you fucking loved responsibility so he didn’t see any problems. 

Shockingly, Tomura did let you leave the next morning to grab some things from home and change clothes. He watched you walk down the sidewalk from his window and only meandered back into the kitchen when you turned a corner out of sight and the front door slammed open. 

Dabi was plopped on the couch when he ventured out, shirtless and absolutely covered in hickeys. Tomura would have commented on it, but he knew he didn’t look much better and didn't want to invite the comparison. 

“What the hell got into you, creep?” he asked incredulously, leering from the cushions, looking him up and down. 

“I got into bitch (endearing),” he cupped his hands to form parenthesis in the air and grabbed a Monster from the fridge. 

Dabi gaped, pushing himself up and not so subtly limping over to cage him against the counter, “No you fucking did not.”

“Did so,” he shot back, knocking his shoulder roughly into Dabi’s chest so he could stalk back into his room. “Looks more like someone got into you.” 

You’d put him in such a weirdly pleasant mood, he really didn’t want to give that up, but Dabi was present, the bitch. 

“We got into each other,” Dabi huffed, flopping down on Tomura’s bed and ruining your scent on his sheets, “No fucking way you had the balls dude.” 

Impulsively—in part because he really needed to ego boost of proving Dabi wrong and to convince himself as well that last night (and this morning) had really happened—Tomura whipped out his phone, flashing that pretty picture of you choking on his dick right into that smug bastards face. 

The fucking grin only grew wider. 

“I’ll be fucking damned, creep,” he stood from the bed to get a closer look, but Tomura locked the screen quickly and shoved it back in his pocket. “How much did you have to pay her?”

“I don’t know what you have to do to get some,” Tomura scoffed, “but mine was free.” 

Dabi looked like he had something smart to say back to that but Tomura didn’t want to hear it. 

“Get out,” he called over his shoulder as he took Dabi’s place on his bed, inhaling the little wisps of you left over on the cotton. God he was never gonna wash these. 

“Aw, don’t wanna give me all the details?” 

He peaked up at Dabi, leaned against his doorframe. 

“No, I have to get dressed,” he paused before the next words that left his mouth, hiding his face in the pillow so Dabi wouldn’t see the furious red of blood rushing to his cheeks. “I have a date later.” 

---

“Stop fucking squirming,” you leaned forward to bite at Tomura’s lips as he shifted under you.

Your hands were gathering his hair and pulling it in twists to the side, tying the strands away from his face. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but your legs wrapped around his waist as he sat in his desk chair, cock soaked and deliciously warm in your pussy was harder to ignore. Especially when you clamped down on him every time he moved while you worked.

“Then get off my dick,” he snapped, leaning back in the chair for better leverage as he snapped his hips up. You looked straight out of those hentai memes, eyes almost crossing when he pushed you down to meet his thrust. “Fucking greedy slut.”

“Excuse-ah,” this time it was you bouncing on his length unprompted, “me, but I wasn’t the one with my cock out begging cause it was so cold.”

Your tone was entirely too even for his liking, and Tomura frowned as he dug his hands into your hips and made you grind into his lap. He really was dating such a fucking whore.

“Well, if you hadn’t fucking insisted we go to this dumbass party, then I could have fucked you hours ago,” he knew he was pouting, but you’d started meeting every roll of his hips halfway, using your thighs now to start up a slow rhythm. “Maybe don’t take so long picking an outfit next time.”

“I was picking yours asshole,” you caught his lip between your teeth again and sucked.

Joke was on you though, the more you tried to fucking tease him, the deeper he was gonna fuck you.

How d’you like that, bitch?

“What—don’t you dare fucking stop—was wrong with my outfit?”

He could feel spit pooling under his tongue. Your fucking pussy always did this to him, made his mouth water and this thighs shake while you rode him in earnest now, moaning into his ear as he made sure you felt him in your fucking guts.

God, he was never gonna get over that—the sounds you made. The sounds he pulled from you.

“Tomura, baby,” every word was punctuated with a gasp, one of his thumbs drawing those little circles on your clit that he figured out pretty quick made you cry. “I love you—and the easy dick access sweatpants provide—dearly, but your ass looks so fucking good in these jeans.”

Something weird always happened to his chest when you said stupid, cheesy shit like that. He knew that was thing fucking normies said all the time, and he used to gag whenever he heard people in the halls professing their feelings to each other. But whenever you did it, Tomura’s lips just instinctively fought to turn up at the edges and his lungs suddenly forgot what air felt like in favor of dedicating ever braincell in his body to memorizing whatever dumb as hell, sweet thing you said.

“Why does—mm yes fuck...” he stared entranced at his lap where your slutty goddamn pussy swallowed him up and pulsed around his cock with every tight circle drawn on your clit. “Why does it matter how my ass looks?”

You paused while he fought with the neckline of your top so your tits bounced free and he could suck at your nipples. And holy shit, you could call him a baby all you wanted, but he’d never get tired of the fucking taste feel smell of your chest filling his mouth and pressed so nice against his face.

Shit, he’d fucking live in your tits if he could. Suckle at you endlessly until you poured sweet fucking milk onto his waiting tongue.

Cause you told him one time that was a thing that could happen. Swatted his head away when he pawed at you for too long cause apparently if he sucked hard enough all the time—

“Listen, if your cute little boyfriend had the tightest ass on the fucking planet, wouldn’t you want to show that off to all your friends.”

His face lit up. Tomura could feel whatever blood left not pumping through this dick, rush to his cheeks and he buried his face more resolutely in your tits so as not to give you the satisfaction of flustering him.

You fucking cooed at him every time and squished his cheeks up, calling him your baby boy.

Fucking disgusting.

But damn if he didn’t love it.

“Whatever,” he groaned, picking up his pace and drinking down the delicious little whimpers you let out every time his cock met you coming down on his lap. “Shut the fuck up, and take it like a good fucking whore.”

“My fucking pleasure,” you grunted before losing all semblance of attempted hairstyling entirely, letting out a long, low moan as he pummeled that pretty pussy and sped up on your clit.

Tomura would absolutely never admit to it, but fucking you always had him feeling so fucking needy. The second your lips or your cunt were swallowing him up it was like a dam broke and every selfish request just poured out of him.

“Wanna cum,” he mumbled into your breast, whining as your walls fluttered and pulsed.

He knew what that meant now. Tomura was what you called ‘quick on the uptake’ and honed in fast on what it felt like when you started to lose it.

“Yeah? Does my pretty boy want me to make him feel good?”

God fuck yeah.

He couldn’t quite bring himself to say it out loud but, yes. Tomura was your pretty, baby boy and he needed he sweet fucking bitch to make him bust so deep inside you.

He was about to reach his peak too, teetering on the edge when the pounding started.

And not the fun kind. Not the bend you over his bed and rail you till you couldn’t fucking walk.

No, no, no.

This was balled fist slamming against his door and Dabi’s grating, smoky voice shouting from the hall.

“Could you fornicate later freaks?!” he called through the door. “You’re gonna be fucking late.”

Tomura’s orgasm hurtled to a painful halt and you groaned again—well growled was probably a more appropriate term for the snarl you let out into the crook of his neck.

“Why the hell does it matter to you?!” Tomura shouted back, the force of his voice shifting the angle of his cock. The minute stimulation felt so good he kept up the slow grinding motion.

You groaned again—decidedly much sweeter—and sucked a cheeky fucking mark right on the side of his neck.

“What are you fucking doing?” he hissed to you, but it was Dabi’s voice who answered.

Along with the click of his knob turning.

“Well, it sounded like you were having a hard time getting your bitch off, so I was gonna offer—“

Dabi stopped, taking the split second before the controller Tomura chucked at his head connected to stare fixedly at your bare ass seated on Tomura’s thighs.

“Yes, my bitch, so get the fuck out!” he yelled, coming out a little choked at the end as your slutty self kept grinding on his cock.

“Yeah, and he’s doing a great job,” you mused, languidly raising your head from his shoulder and kissing up his jawline, completely unfazed entirely by the new audience.

Tomura’s brain was ping ponging so hard between rage, cheek burning embarrassment, and being the most turned on he’d ever been in his life.

The things you fucking did to him.

“If you say so sweetheart,” Dabi, also completely unperturbed by watching you grind on his roommates dick, leaned against the doorframe like you all were chatting about the fucking mayoral election.

“I do,” you lifted your hips then, showing off one full bounce that had both Dabi and Tomura’s eyes rolling.

Though the latter was much more annoyed than Tomura could hope to be.

“Fucking show off,” his roommate muttered.

“Isn’t your boyfriend waiting in the kitchen?” you huffed and glared over your shoulder at Dabi in his platform boots and mesh top.

He scowled and flipped the two of you off with chipped, black nails and sauntered back down the hall calling, “not my boyfriend,” as he went.

He left the door wide open.

Tomura almost yelled for him to come back and close it, but you took the silence as an opportunity to start riding him full force and even though you were the one bouncing in his lap, he had to grip your waist and hold on for the ride.

Fucking bitch.

Tomura’s fucking bitch.

You held his hand as you walked across campus to the media building in the budding Spring evening. And that was almost as bad as you saying all those pointless, nice things to him.

Cause people looked, like they watched you linking fingers with that creepy guy in their classes or from the dining hall, and you walked swinging his hand in yours the whole way like it didn’t fucking matter.

Didn’t even occur to you that everyone on campus would know now that the hot chick they saw walking around was with him.

But all those imaginary eyes seemed to melt away as you dragged him behind you, down the old path you both used to take everyday after working in the library. Along the worn concrete sidewalk to the ‘secret door’ in the alley that was perpetually propped open with a copy of the Manifesto, taking two flights of stairs down to the basement and following the soft blue glow to the unofficial layer of The League.

You didn’t let go of his hand even after your both walked through the door.

Tomura recognized most of the people there as friends you introduced him to. You’d met them all through classes or through other friends, forming a close knit group of everyone who knew everyone which was apparent from the way they all cheered when you walked in.

He suddenly was reminded why he never came to shit like this. Not that people were scrambling to invite Tomura Shigaraki to their parties, but his skin itched even when the eyes never focused on him.

Across the room Spinner, the other co-leader of the club, who he knew the best out of everyone, waved at him, and Tomura nodded back. His eyes quickly picked Dabi out of the crowd, leaning off in the corner with a red cup in hand, forehead pushed up against his blond boyfriend’s. Keigo was apparently a reluctant member of the other gaming club on campus—cause of course there was a demand for fucking two—the president of which knew Spinner and who, of course, knew you, which led to Tomura’s asshole, sometimes voyeur roommate being invited along.

Fucking social circles were so needlessly complicated.

Tomura vaguely recognized the other blond guy in the room—Jin was his name? Maybe?—enough to pick his wild, sandy hair out of the crowd, tucked off to the side of the table laden with shitty vending machine snacks. He had his arm slung around someone Tomura had never met before, talking with another short blond girl he didn’t know and Jin’s roommate, Magne. He patted himself on the back for remembering two out of the four names. He also remembered Jin worked at the library, though he hated it, and had been tangentially responsible for hooking the two of you up in that study room, your study room.

Tomura nodded at Jin too as he saw the two of you walk in and enthusiastically shouted some greetings and only one profanity. A new record for him.

Someone else Tomura hadn’t been introduced to shouted from the floor by the gaming set up as Spinner punched the air in triumph in the glow of the victory screen.

“I’m gonna grab us some drinks,” you whispered to him, and he let go of your hand reluctantly, watching as you stopped, doling out hugs to everyone—excluding Dabi—as you went.

He looked around, cast adrift without you to hold him to the dock of social interaction.

It was clear he’d have to find a backup person to cling to for the remainder of the night if you were just gonna fucking abandon him for your friends.

Though Tomura did his best to not be all that salty about it. The residual anger melted a little bit as he watched Magne bear hug you off the floor so hard your back popped. It was only when he felt a hand on his shaking shoulder that Tomura realized he’d been laughing at the spectacle.

Spinner flashed him a toothy smile, arms crossed and watching intently as you pretended to gasp in a breath when Magne finally dropped you from her massive arms.

“Hey man,” he said, wild hair the color of those weird unicorn drinks from that cafe you liked sticking up on end. “How’s it going?”

Tomura shrugged, unsure how to respond without you to fill in the unmediated gaps in conversation.

“Fine, I guess.”

Spinner was not who he would have chosen to hang with all night. Yeah, he knew him the best, but Tomura sorta got the vibes your roommate lowkey hated his fucking guts. And while no one would say he was the master at interpersonal relationships, Tomura could fucking tell when someone didn’t like him. Most of his life till now had been spent in a constant state of snide side eyes and fake politeness.

Maybe that’s why he used to find you so fucking off putting.

But you were different now. He knew you meant all that bullshit. Spinner just wasn’t as good at pretending as he thought he was.

“Nice,” Spinner acted as though he didn’t notice the edge in Tomura’s tone. Or he was just fucking stupid. “I’m glad you guys actually came tonight, I haven’t seen you in awhile.”

He chuckled a bit to soften the blow of that last part, rubbing his neck and smiling sheepishly. Tomura didn’t return the gesture.

“Yeah,” he said simply, kicking at the scuffed linoleum with his sneakers.

He very much wished that you hadn’t tied his hair back so he could hide his face away from Spinner’s stare.

“Listen bro,” that pink head ducked down to catch Tomura’s eye, looking a little bit more guilty now than before. “I know I’ve been kind of a dick lately—and I already talked with them,” he gestured to you, currently pouring some awful, glittery concoction into Jin’s mouth as the smaller blond girl clapped beside you. “But I was just sort of ‘going through it’ for awhile and, well it doesn’t fucking matter, anyway sorry for being such an asshole...”

Tomura’s mouth got dry like it did whenever you hugged him in public or said you liked his eyes. The words drifted around in his head, spitting back error codes as they swirled.

He honestly couldn’t recall a time anyone had ever apologized to him. And he never knew what to say in normal conversation, much less fucking this. Spinner kept looking at him expectantly, but as the silence dragged on, Tomura watched his face falter just a bit.

And that made him feel even worse.

Fuck.

What would you say? Something nice??

“Don’t worry about it,” he blurted—which really was your catchphrase, but he was sure you wouldn’t mind him borrowing it.

“Thanks bro,” Spinner grinned again, this eyes closed, thin lipped thing that made Tomura feel hot just looking into the glow of it. “We’re cool yeah?”

He couldn’t see you, but he could feel that disgusting, proud stare you got every time he elected to order both your drinks when you went out or asked for extra ketchup on his own.

“Whatever, yeah,” Tomura scratched absently at his throat and Spinner jerked his head over to the gaming setup. The Smash music was drifting softly out of twin speakers.

“Wanna play a round?” he asked.

Tomura glanced quickly over at you, now watching as Jin attempted to juggle some of the small snack bags and Magne tossed more flying chips into the mix.

Yeah, you’d probably be awhile.

“...sure.”

It was halfway through the round—in which Tomura was goddamn slaughtering Spinner’s Kirby—that you finally wandered back over to him, two red cups in hand and a few bags of stolen Chex mix.

You set them both down on the small coffee table—also ‘donated’ from the theater department—and plopped next to him on the couch. Spinner growled from the floor, the other club president—The Commission apparently, who the fuck was coming up with these names?—sat kneeled behind him, hands on his shoulders and shouting words of encouragement.

The adrenaline of the fight rushing through him increased exponentially when you gripped his bicep and added your voice to the din.

“Fuck yeah, baby! Kick his fucking ass!”

“Oh wow,” Spinner yelled back. “Now I see where your fucking loyalties lie.”

“Has nothing to do with loyalty,” you laughed. “I just want to see you eat shit for once.”

“Should have come to the big tournament then!” The Commission president chuckled too, looking over their shoulder with a grin.

“Damn, now I’m really sorry I missed it,” you swung your legs up onto the cushions only to tuck them up under yourself as you stared down at the couch. “Ew what the hell is this stain?”

The Commission president was suddenly very much not looking back at you anymore, Tomura noticed. Spinner, at your comment, choked on his fucking spit, not quite dodging Tomura fast enough and tumbling straight off the map.

As Tomura’s character flashed first on the screen you cheered and gripped his face, landing a quick, wet smack of a kiss straight to his fucking lips. Spinner and his friend groaned in unison and there was a chorus of friendly disgust from everyone else gathered around watching.

He could care less.

The air felt strangely alive, people’s gazes flitting over him as though he were part of the scenery. But in a good way this time. Not the purposeful overlooking of his existence, not as though he were an accessory to the room, but a crucial part of it. Like there might be an empty space they would notice if he wasn’t occupying it.

Like he belonged attached to your hand or your hip or just on his own, playing games and drinking shitty juice and laughing at whatever weird as fuck thing Jin shouted at unprompted, random intervals.

Everyone remained gathered by the monitor as you selected your character to face off against him in the next round.

“I’m gonna...” you growled, coming in with an impressive attack and backing out of range, a move signature of yours, “suck your fucking dick!”

“I’m gonna fucking suck yours first, bitch,” he retorted and Magne offered up a kind “hell yeah” in support.

Her large fist came into view over his shoulder, which he found himself bumping against his own without a second thought.

The music filled his ears, the shouting voices no longer suffocating, but adding to the thrum in his chest—the same beat that had his lips pulled up in a smile which ached in his cheeks, but it didn’t matter.

The burn in the cracking skin around his lips and eyes was inconsequential. His face bare of the usual curtains of hair was turned up towards the screen in full display.

He watched you, silhouetted in the blue like of the monitor, saw the figures of your friends gather close around him, engulfing him like an ameba, adding Tomura in as another cell to this new organism.

He breathed.

And felt alive.

[simpfortheseven]

Birthday Surprise Part 2!

Part two to this post <3

Fluff ahead!

You picked up mammons present. Inside was a very expensive looking chain necklace. Mammons face was red as you opened it and put it on.

"Wow Mammon," You smiled gleefully "When you were eyeing this in the store I thought you'd get it for yourself, not me. Thanks, Mammon."

"Oi shuddup and take the gift, Human," He said in all his tact.

"Mine next!" Asmo chimed in, handing you a box with a bow. Upon opening it, it was a hand lotion, body wash, and bubble bath trio with a cute loofah and eye mask. "They match mine, I just had to get them for you," He giggles.

You smelled the lotion. "Oh this smells awesome, thanks, Asmo!" He giggled again and winked at you. You put both presents on your bed. The next one was big, but odd shaped.

You opened it and it was a cow print pillow. Belphie mumbled that it was from him. "So we can match while we nap together."

"That's so sweet, Belphie. Wait- is that just gonna be an excuse to steal it so it smells like me?" He shrugged as he came over and laid his head on your thigh, falling asleep as you pet his hair and rolled your eyes in a sarcastic manner.

Satan cleared his throat and you looked over. He handed you a neatly wrapped box with a yellow bow. "Thanks, Satan," You said as you took it.

Inside, there was a cute cat bowl and treats. "For when we feed the stray cats together," He explained. "There's also some books and audio book CDs for you, but there were too many to carry."

"You really went all out, hm?" You chuckled as you put those things back in their box to prevent them from being broken.

Levi handed you a bag that was as red as his face. "I-i thought you'd like it, but you probably don't want a gift from a gross Otaku like me-"

"I absolutely do want it," you said as you took the tissue paper out. It was a figurine of your favorite show. How did he remember what that show was? It only had one season- how did he even find this??

You smiled in awe at the thoughtful gift and gently set it on the desk. "Its so amazing Levi! How'd you even find it??"

"Many hours on Akuzon- I'm pretty good at finding obscure merch," He hummed happily as he saw how much you loved the gift.

Beel sheepishly handed you a wrapped box, the wrapping was neat and tidy. "Asmo helped me wrap it. I couldn't get the tape off my fingers and onto the box without getting it stuck to itself."

You smiled to yourself as you imagined Beel struggling with the tape. Inside his small box was a voucher for a year of free meals at Hells Kitchen and a bracelet that matched his necklace. "Asmo also helped me pick that out."

"I love it. It'll remind me of you," You say as you put it on your dominate hand. "And the voucher will be great for when we hang out!"

He nodded as he sat back down. The only left was Lucifer. You looked over and he handed you a small box. "For you. Happy birthday, Y/N."

Inside was a record of some of the songs you two had listened to together in the devildom. Many from his own collection that he showed you, some from yours that you showed him. You smiled as you out the record back in the box. "I didn't think you'd be so openly thoughtful, Pridey McPrideFace."

"Watch it," He warns. You stick your tongue out at him. As scary as Lucifer is, you know he wouldn't do anything right now. You have him wrapped around your fingers with how soft he is for you.

"Thank you all, really. These are all so thoughtful.. Its the best birthday ever!"

They all said their "no problem"s, "Yer welcome!"s and "Of course"s.

"Now," Satan said. "Lets get ready for the rest of the fun to begin."

masterlist

[iisasarcasticlittleshite]

Prompt 6 of 12 with Inumaki Toge x Blind!Reader

This follows along the same sort of line as my Cursed Technique Headcannons. The reader’s technique involves their eyes, so while they’re not completely blind, their eyes don’t work in a conventional manner.

As relationships go, you can imagine what yours must look like to the outside eye. 

You and Inumaki have been a couple since your second year, you’ve been through absolute hell together and that’s no joke, yet neither of you had done much “growing up” in that time, which is to say, both of you still silently judge people.

You used to do it every time your classmates dragged you, the blind sorcerer, into the middle of Tokyo to go shopping. Without your cursed energy your eyes were basically useless, but damn could you smell when some businessman walked past you, drowning in cologne.

You got pretty good at judging people by their smell, and Toge, ever the sweetheart, would give you the description to match the smell of Playboy perfume or just straight smoke.

You always shared your earbuds, Maki would gag at you two being “gross and couply” when in reality it was just so Toge could type to speech directly into your ear.

Back then you’d been mildly thankful that he’s limited to onigiri speak, because that boy was a savage, these days, you know him to be savage even if all he can say is tuna-mayo.

The two of you now own an apartment near the city centre, prime territory for people watching. Through arduous training, you can now make out silhouettes with the naked eye, but hardly bother straining yourself when you’re perfectly adapted to living without your eyes.

‘Toge, I’m home!’ You announced, placing your cane beside the door, its evening resting place beside your coat and house keys.

You heard your partner in the kitchen area, and kicked off your boots before padding in that direction. You have your home memorised by now, and easily skirt around corners and furniture. You thought you had dodged the bar, only to knock your knees into some alien object and collapse onto something relatively soft.

An indignant squeak involuntarily leaves your lips as you face plant onto what you now recognise, as your couch, turning your cheek to huff at your boyfriend. ‘Very funny Toge.’

His sweet, charming chuckle almost convinces you to let it go. Almost.

‘You’re not allowed in the kitchen.’ He informs you in a whisper. He’s no longer limited to onigiri ingredients as when he was a teenager, but any direct command would be accompanied by his curse. He chooses his words carefully, and speaks softly, which is no problem to your hearing.

‘You could have just said that instead of tripping me with a whole ass couch you ass!’

‘Tuna.’ 

Rolling your eyes, you sit yourself up on the pilfered couch, deciding you may as well be comfortable as you sniff the air. ‘Why can’t I go in the kitchen?’

‘Bonito flakes.’ 

Laughing, you turn your head in his general direction. ‘You let Panda in here again, didn’t you?’

‘...kelp?’

‘Maybe is not an answer!’ Despite your objections, you can’t help but laugh. Panda’s been trying to learn to cook for Yaga’s birthday, and your sweet boyfriend tries to help, forgetting that he’s a little chaos goblin and wreaks havoc every time he’s left alone with his friend.

You can’t be too upset about it, though you can imagine that your kitchen is a mess, you can’t exactly see it. If anything of value was lost, Toge would tell you. 

Relaxing into your seat, you can’t smell anything burning or hear any porcelain being swept up, which already makes an improvement from last time Panda came over to practise.

‘Do I smell Yuuta?’

Toge merely hums, you can hear the splash of water and clinking plates. Washing up.

‘I’m amazed the house is even standing. Maki must have been here then, Lord knows you three are agents of chaos if left alone.’ 

Suddenly, soft, warm hands gently cup over your ears, deafening the world to you. Once, you might have panicked, but with Toge, there’s no fear. Your trust in him is absolute, and not because it has to be, but because you want to trust him. 

Tenderly, he urges your head back, thumbs caressing your soft skin as you feel his lips brush the lightest of kisses to your brow, slowly dragging his fingers into your hair. 

Relaxing completely into him, your eyes roll shut, breathing deeply as your lover plants his soft lips over your cheek, then your jaw, words barely a whisper against your ear.

‘(Y/N), you can be a real ass sometimes, you know that?’

A lazy chuckle is all you can be bothered to produce, turning your head to catch his lips with yours for a quick peck.

Toge pulls away, you hear fabric rustling and sense him diving over the back of the couch to sit beside you, pulling you into a deeper kiss.

The day you’d walked in from melted away as a smile curled your lips. ‘Oh yeah? You should hear the things I don’t say.’

You can practically hear him rolling his eyes, kissing you again, and again. He smells of cinnamon and flower, a touch of chocolate, hinting that your sweetheart has been baking sweets all day, promising your taste buds much joy.

You still say he tastes best.