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heizlut · 4 months

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Closing the Distance

ꕀ cw: mention of blood/injury (nonsexual related)

ꕀ tags: fem!reader, inexperienced and possibly ooc!calcharo, oral f!receiving, first-time sex, breeding kink, creampie, mostly proofread

ꕀ nsfw under the cut

ꕀ m!list here

Calcharo didn't expect this at all. He only agreed to help you find and fight against the tacet discords that had sprung up from a particularly strong tacet field. But here you were, laying underneath him and looking up at him with big eyes, your chest heaving with heavy breaths and your lips looking quite inviting.

All he was trying to do was get you out of harm's way by practically tackling you to the ground and caging you in with his own body as the final tacet discord emitted an explosive energy as it was struck down. It wasn't anything special, he swears it's not.

You clear your throat awkwardly, blush evident on your cheeks, "You can uh... get off me now..." You avert your gaze, unable to properly look him in the eyes, not now, and not since you felt something particularly...hard brush against your stomach. Your words snap Calcharo out of his daze, heat rising to his own pale features, "Ah, y-yes. I apologize..." He moves off of you and stands up, extending his hand towards you to help you up as well.

You take it, pulling yourself up and let go abruptly, "Thanks for your help today." Calcharo looks down at his hand where the warmth of your touch still lingered, then curls it into a fist, "It was no problem." The air felt heavy and awkward. There was something bubbling up inside of him that felt wholly unfamiliar. He rolls his eyes at himself and he turns away from you. Why was he acting like this? As if he's never seen a pretty girl before... How pathetic.

He peeks over at you as you absorb the echoes, taking in your strong but soft form. Calcharo could at least admit he found you to be a strong fighter, you were part of the Ghost Hounds after all. He was familiar with you, so why was he feeling like this now. He's never had time to form a romantic relationship with anyone nor has he ever felt the need to. He had more important things to worry about than getting his dick wet and being all soft with someone.

You meet he gaze, noticing that he's staring at you again with his intense blue-grey eyes. You raise a brow as you walk back over to him, "What's the matter with you today? You seem off." Calcharo huffs, looking annoyed as he turns his face away from you and crosses his arms, his voice deep and monotone as usual, "I'm fine." You study him for a moment and then shrug, "Whatever you say. Let's get going." As you move past him, Calcharo notices your gait, "You're limping."

You freeze in your tracks, having hoped that whatever was bothering him would keep him distracted enough to not notice. He already did so much for you today, you wanted to handle your injury yourself. You feel his large hand on your shoulder as he stops beside you, "Why didn't you say anything?" You want to shrug off his hand, but you don't; instead you sigh, "It's not a big deal. Let's just-" "No", Calcharo cuts you off quickly, moving in front of you, "At least let me take a look."

"I don't think that's such a good idea...", you say a little softer than you had liked. Remaining stern and stoic as ever, Calcharo crosses his arms as he looks down at you, "And why would that be?" His question sounds icy and he must've realized it because he tone softens when he speaks again, "You're injured and I wouldn't be a very good leader if I didn't look out for another member." Thunder rumbles in the distance, a sure sign that a storm was on its way. You look down and then grab his arm, surprising him, "Fine. But let's not be out in the open..."

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If you hadn't been injured and limping, the two of you wouldn't be soaked from the rain you had gotten caught in. Slamming the wooden door shut of the run-down cabin you found in the woods, you immediately sink down onto the floor. "How did you know this place was...", Calcharo's voice trails off as his blue-grey eyes find the growing patch of blood on your upper thigh, immediately crouching down to your level.

His intense eyes take in your features, your face flushed red from a slight fever and a couple droplets of water run down your face to your neck. Calcharo's hand reaches for your wounded thigh before pausing, hovering right over the wound, "May I?" You grit your teeth and nod. With uncharacteristically shaky hands, he undoes your pants and helps you lift your hips off the ground as he lowers them. In his head, he repeats over and over that this is just to treat you. That's it!

But he can't help glancing at your cotton panties... There was nothing particularly special about them, but the way they hugged your hips, pressing close against your pussy underneath; it had him inadvertently licking his lips. Calcharo shakes his head and looks to the open cut on your thigh. He does his best to make sure his voice comes out even as he speaks, "It's not too deep. There's just a lot of blood from straining yourself." You point to your bag, "There's a first aid kit in there..."

With a single nod, he grabs the bag and rummages through it til his fingers brush against the small first aid box. He grabs it and mentally prepares himself to give you stitches while also trying so damn hard to stop from popping a boner at the sight of you.

You were injured, for fucks sake! Now wasn't the time to suddenly sprout inappropriate thoughts that he had never had an issue with before. Sensing his hesitation, you practically snatch the kit from his hands, making him blink in shock.

Though flushed with a bit of a fever, drenched from the rain, and injured, you still have the nerve to narrow your eyes at him, "I can do it myself." His jaw hangs open for a moment but he quickly shuts it, returning to his usual cold demeanor, "Fine." He sits back, watching as you thread the curved needle and piece your own flesh as you stitch yourself up. Mentally he cringes on your behalf, but you barely react as your skin closes with the thread.

If anything, seeing just how strong you are, not just physically, but mentally, it makes things even harder for him, quite literally. His cock throbs in his pants and he presses down on it, willing it to just go the fuck away. After tying up the thread and cleaning off the remaining blood, you look his way, noticing his hands pressing down in his lap and you raise a brow, a weak smirk playing on your lips, "Are you seriously hard right now?"

Calcharo's eyes flick to yours, all wide-eyed as he looks at you, then he frowns and looks away, "No, I'm not." You breathe out a laugh that does nothing to help the ache in his pants, "Really? Then move your hands." Calcharo grimaces, his nose scrunched in what looks similar to a snarling dog, "I don't want to." You just shrug, looking amused albeit still a bit weak from your condition, "Suit yourself then. It just looks like you're having a bit of a rough time."

He turns his body away from you, not wanting to listen to anymore of your teasing. "It wouldn't be very nice of me to not show my gratitude to my leader for helping me so much today...", you trail off with a teasing lilt in your voice. Calcharo straightens up and peeks at your over his shoulder, "What do you mean...'show your gratitude'?" Hook, line, and sinker. You put on a more nonchalant look and sigh heavily, "I'm simply saying that since you helped me out..." You look into his eyes again, "I could help you out as well."

Too many thoughts race through Calcharo's mind. How could he even take you up on that offer, especially when you're injured. Especially since he shouldn't be having thoughts like this. Especially because you were special to him. Wait... You were... special to him? When did he feel this way towards you? I mean, sure he always went with you whenever you were itching for a fight and he did talk with you a little more frequently than the others, albeit not too much.

You can tell his mind is racing, so you lean forward, ignoring the bit of pain in your wounded thigh, and place your hand on his shoulder, "Just quit thinking, Calcharo." Your hushed voice and hot breath fan across his ear, sending tingles straight down to his cock. Fuck it. He turns around and faces you once more, his face close to yours as he speaks low and deep, "I don't want to hurt you." His eyes are on yours, but yours are on his lips as you speak again, "You won't."

Before he can protest again, your lips are on his in a soft, but demanding kiss. Calcharo is frozen for a moment, having never done this before. Hell, he's never done anything romantic or sexual in the past. But the plush softness of your lips on his has him beginning to melt. He returns the kiss hesitantly at first, but once he finds the right rhythm with you, he finds himself leaning into you more. His hands are on your flushed cheeks and your heat radiates into his palms.

Your tongue prods his lower lip, begging for entrance to which he allows, parting his lips as you tongue slips in and moves against his. It's a slippery feeling, but you taste so sweet.

Without having realized it, Calcharo has you caged in underneath him yet again, although this time is was special. Your legs are spread to accommodate his body between your legs and your fingers are tangled in his wet, but long silver hair.

Your lips brush against his, "As much as I'd like to help and take things over, my injury-" Calcharo cuts you off with a kiss, "I know. Tell me what to do and I'll do it." His voice sounds husky and breathless, needy for more of you. You grab his hand and place it on your breast, making his breath hitch, "You can touch me."

He looks down at where his hand rests on your breast, taking in the way it fills his palm so perfectly, and he squeezes lightly. Truthfully, he wants your shirt off so he can feel the soft skin against his own calloused hands.

Calcharo's eyes go to yours and his fingers hover over the buttons of your shirt, "May I?" You chuckle a little at his formality, "Please do." With your affirmation, he unbuttons your shirt, tugging the material gently down your shoulders. He takes in the sight of you under him in just a bra and panties. You truly were a sight to see. Without asking for permission again, he fumbles with the clasp of your bra before eventually unhooking it and sliding it off.

Calcharo licks his lips again when he finally sees your bare breasts, so round and perfect. His hand makes its way back to your breasts, gently palming them. His thumb flicks over your nipple, making you draw in a breath. His gaze break away from your chest and back up to your face in alarm, "Did I hurt you?" You smile tiredly at him and shake your head, "No, it felt good." Calcharo visibly relaxes and returns his attention back to your chest.

Leaning down, he captures one of your nipples in his mouth, his tongue sliding over the pert bud as you let out a soft sounding moan. His eyes flit up to watch your reactions as he continues with his ministrations. All he wants is for you to feel good even if he's not entirely sure what he's doing. But from the look on your face, your lips parted and brows knitted together, he can tell he's doing well so far and that's all he needs to know to keep going.

Calcharo presses little kisses from your breasts, to your stomach, then pauses above your covered cunt. Without a word, you shakily raise your hips, signalling him to remove your panties and continue on. He bites his lip, nervous as hell, but he didn't know when he would get an opportunity like this again. So he slides your panties down, ever so careful to not have the material rub against your wound on it's way down your legs.

With you panties off and your pussy now exposed to him, Calcharo feels like he's in a daze. You raise your hips yet again with a raised brow, "Well? Haven't you done this before?" Calcharo looks away from you, not wanting to confirm nor deny, feeling too embarrassed to say you were his first everything.

Your sweet voice pulls him back in, "You're so unlike yourself right now. Where'd my confident leader go, huh?" You were only half teasing as you spoke, just wanting him to move on from your first quip.

Hearing you call him your leader stirs something inside of him. Calcharo feels like he has something to prove. You were right, he did everything with a cold confidence, so he could certainly do this. Calcharo lowers himself to your pussy, his lips so close to touching. With a quick look back up to you, he lightly licks at your clit. It's experimental at first, just small little licks to test out your reaction. But once he sees how turned on you are, he dives right in.

It's sloppy and wet, but Calcharo has no intention of stopping now. His tongue prods and licks at your entrance, lapping up your arousal as it coats his tongue. His cock twitches as he mindlessly grinds against the floor. Your beautiful moans and shaky breaths only spur him on and make him feel even more brave. His calloused thumb rubs at your clit in time with his tongue lashing between your folds.

Your hands fly to his hair, pressing his mouth further into your pussy as you cry out his name, "C-calcharo! 'm cumming-ngh!" The taste of you flooded his senses and he simply could not get enough. He grips your hips, keeping his mouth latched onto your soaked cunt as though it was his first and last meal he'd ever have, groaning as if he were the one on the receiving end. You try to push his face away, "S-stop! Too much-ngh!- 'm sensitive!"

Calcharo knew he should stop, but your moans and the way your arousal flowed from you was way too delicious. His tongue flicks over you clit once more, making your legs shake as you moan loudly, releasing on his tongue once more. Finally being merciful, Calcharo removes his mouth from your pussy, your juices and his own saliva glisten on his lips and chin, but he doesn't have a care in the world right in this moment.

Your breasts move in time with your heavy breathing and you narrow your eyes up at him, "You're so lucky I'm injured right now..." Calcharo's eyebrows furrow, cocking his head to the side slightly, "But you liked it." You can't keep your glare when he's looking at you like some confused puppy, although quite the scary looking puppy... You look down, spotting the wet patch on his pants, "Just take your pants off. It looks like your cock is ready to burst."

Calcharo's eyes widen at your straightforwardness, but he immediately schools his expression, "...Right." He undoes his belt harness, letting it drop to the floor with a soft clank of the metal. Next, he pops open the button of his pants and lowers the zipper, tugging his pants and briefs down just enough to free his cock. His cock springs forward, large and veiny, twitching and leaking profusely.

You're in awe of his size and if you had known he was packing that much down there, you would've intentionally tried to get yourself in this situation much sooner. With one hand, he holds his aching cock and covers his face with the other, "Why are you staring so intensely?" Seeing the state he's in makes you laugh. The sound of it makes his length twitch and he peeks at you through his fingers, sounding a bit annoyed, "What's so amusing to you?"

You give him a genuine, yet cheeky smile, "I just... Never thought I'd see such an intimidating guy like yourself get so flustered." Calcharo groans at your teasing remark and lowers his hand from his face, his other hand absentmindedly stroking his cock, "Enough of your teasing."

You spread your legs a little more, careful not to strain your injury, "By all means, please continue. I promise I won't tease you anymore." "Hmph...", Calcharo does his best to look displeased, but there's too much longing and desperation in his eyes for it to be even remotely convincing.

He lines his leaking tip up with your awaiting entrance, but pauses, "Just tell me if it's too much, alright?" With a nod from you, pressure begins to build as he pushes his length slowly inside of your tight, wet cunt.

Cacharo's face scrunches with pleasure and he sucks in a breath, the feeling of being inside of you, inside of anyone for the first time has him struggling not to cum right then and there. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down to you, speaking softly, "It's okay. You can move now."

He whines at the affirmation and begins to thrust slowly, trying to keep himself calm so as to not cum immediately or hurt you from going too hard too fast. His muscular arms cage you in and his silver hair cascades over his shoulders.

His blue-grey eyes lock on yours as he keeps his steady pace. Calcharo's voice is strained when he speaks through gritted teeth, "This feels too good..." He groans as his hips make contact with yours, his cock pressing deep inside of you.

You press a kiss to the corner of his lips, whispering against them, "Then keep going." Calcharo's cock jumps inside of you and he starts thrusting a little faster, a little harder, "F-fuck..." He kisses you deeply, his tongue tangling with yours as his cock fucks into you. All you both can do is whimper and moan between relentless kisses as he comes closer and closer to orgasm.

His thoughts are only on how fucking good you tight pussy feels squeezing around his cock and how badly he wants to breed you with his cum. Gods, what he wouldn't do to see your stomach growing round with his kids.

Fuck, what the hell is even thinking right now. He can't even own a dog, let alone raise a kid, it was too dangerous. But your pussy and your hold on him was way more dangerous to him. He had to keep going.

Calcharo growls out a low groan, "I'm gonna cum -fuck- take it all. Please, please take it -ngh- all!" With a harsh, deep thrust, he releases his warm seed inside of you. His cock throbbing as his cum pours from his tip and the excess drips down to the floor.

He presses his sweaty forehead against yours, the heat from your fever seeping into his skin. Fuck, you had a fever and were injured... He pulls out of you, making you whimper at the feeling of emptiness.

His eyes flick over to your stitched wound, eyes wide as he sees some of the stitches had popped open and fresh blood was trickling down the side of your thigh, "I-I apologize. I shouldn't have-mmph!" Your lips on his shuts him up and when you pull away, you only smile tiredly at him, "I'm fine. Quit worrying about me." Calcharo's expression shows just how much he's struggling with all of this. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you or make anything worse.

You tug a strand of his long, silver hair, bringing his attention back to you, "If you really feel that bad then I guess you'll have to make it up to me another time." Calcharo's eyebrows furrow, but then his expression softens slightly, "Of course. As your leader, I-" You cut him off quickly, "No, not so much as my leader. But as my partner. How does that sound?"

He's stunned for a moment but then clears his throat, trying to keep his typical brooding expression, "We can't. I don't want you to get hurt." You roll your eyes and look up at him, speaking in a resolute tone, "This is different. I'm not just some civilian, I'm part of the Ghost Hounds just like you. I can handle whatever danger comes my way or else I wouldn't be here right now." Calcharo processes your words for a second, then sighs, "Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you."

Your expression brightens, "I'm pretty sure that's similar to what you said to me when I first joined." Calcharo rolls his eyes as he gathers your clothes and his, "Whatever. I meant it as much then as I do now." You just breathe a small laugh, "Of course. I think we'll be just fine."

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a/n: calcharo is a cutie patootie under that tough exterior, i just know it🥺

#calcharo x reader smut #calcharo smut #wuthering waves smut #wuwa smut #calcharo x reader #calcharo wuthering waves #calcharo wuwa

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missmeinyourbones · 7 months

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AURORA BOREALIS GREEN

cw: non sorcerer au, college au, enemies to lovers (?) neighbors to lovers, miscommunication trope if you squint (I AM SORRY), reader e to as she/her once, reader wears heels, some light sexual content (dry humping nation rise)

wc: 10k+

There's something wrong with your upstairs neighbors.

You've never met them, not face to face at least, but between the times you've hit your ceiling with the end of your broom and the audacity they have to continue to be as rowdy as they are, something isn't right with them. You're sure of it.

And you're not naive to the fact that your apartment building is filled with young people, either currently in college or just freshly graduated. You're no prude to the dulled sound of late-night party playlists or squeaky bed frames muffled by plaster.

But your neighbors aren't guilty of these typical noise complaints. No, they're borderline much worse.

The majority of their crimes take place in the day, believe it or not, which makes it all the more frustrating when you actually have shit to do. When it's not boyish yells of victory and frustration, it's footsteps that sound like a herd of elephants (how many people can live in an apartment floor plan for two?). They're relentless upstairs neighbors to have, and though you couldn't pick their faces out of a crowd if you tried, you're sure their lack of etiquette spans across other areas of their lives.

The tiny clock at the top of your computer blinks a mocking 11:38 AM as you try to study through the sounds of excited stomping and rowdy gibberish.

You don't know what makes today so different, whether it's the burnt coffee beans you can taste lingering in your usual order from the cafe across the street or the organic chemistry study guide practically laughing at you as you review your hieroglyphic notes for tomorrow's test.

Whatever is in the water has you feeling braver than usual, and instead of reaching for the conveniently placed broom in the corner of your kitchen, you find yourself stomping your way down the hall and up the staircase.

The sixth floor is identical to the fifth — you don't know why it wouldn't be, but you've never put much thought into it — so it's no surprise that your feet find no trouble in naturally bringing you to a door equivalent to yours just a floor below.

Your knuckles wrap against the wood with three unfriendly knocks, and the joyous buzzing from inside the apartment instantly comes to a lull. You think you hear panicked whispers from the other side, almost as if the culprits are debating on answering or not. You take their choice away when you knock three more times.

After a moment, you hear the clicking of the lock and the fiddling of the doorknob. You take a deep breath to ground yourself, put on your best customer service voice, and prepare to calmly tell these entitled frat boys to shut the fuck up when—

You're ironically met with the prettiest green eyes you think you've ever seen.

A tall brunette stands before you, about your age, and wearing a look that's both confused and embarrassed. Your eyes quickly flicker across his face in the span of mere seconds, logical thoughts going out the window and now replaced with amazement at how stupidly attractive he is.

Though you knocked on his door, he speaks first.

"Hi...?" He clears his throat, looking behind you in the hallway, almost as if you have the wrong room.

His confusion annoys you, and you suddenly remember why you're here in the first place.

"Look, I really don't wanna be a bitch," you sigh, rubbing the bridge of your nose, "but what could you possibly be doing in this apartment that sounds like an actual full-out brawl on a Wednesday morning?"

Obliviously handsome neighbor's face goes a bit pink and his jaw slacks as he stutters, looking for either a shitty excuse or a polite explanation of the truth.

He opens the door a bit more, gesturing to the living room behind him. You spare a glance to where another guilty suspect stares back at you with big brown eyes and a smirk. There's some video game paused on the screen, ridden with animated blood and a scoped weapon's perspective.

Your attention is brought back to the one holding the door when he mumbles, "I think it's our game."

A bit dumbfounded at his lame answer, you blankly stare at him.

"Your... game?"

Brown Eyes yells from the couch, "Call of Duty!"

As if on instinct, Green Eyes closes the door a bit, shielding you from his roommate and shaking his head in exasperation. He clears his throat awkwardly, "Sorry, are you—?"

You're suddenly hyperaware of the fact that you've been staring at how long his fucking eyelashes are. He's anything but sore on the eyes, but again, you try to remind yourself that he and his roommate make your life difficult at least five out of seven days of the week.

"I live below you," you huff behind a swallow, "and you really don't make it easy."

He nods dumbly, finally realizing the connection behind your visit. "Oh, right."

You scoff and nod your head. For someone as pretty as him, he's a bit thick in the head.

Biting your cheek, you begin to walk away from the door without completely ending the conversation. As you're turning to leave, he hears you call out from down the corridor.

"If you could just — not play video games like eleven-year-old boys," your tone is filled with annoyance, "that'd be great."

You don't need to turn around to know that the stranger at the door is apologetic and nodding in compliance. Before he can fully shut the door, you hear a quip from his counterpart on the couch.

"She told you, bro."

As the door shuts, you hear the muffled hiss from the other. "You're the one making noise, dipshi—"

…..

Your threatening conversation must have worked to some degree, because it's been almost two days without any sort of annoyance from your upstairs neighbors. You think you almost take it for granted, the way you can study without headphones and enjoy a movie in the living room rather than in your bed with the speaker on high.

The walk back from your class is usually about twenty minutes, but it's closer to fifteen today as you're quicker when it comes to getting out of the cold.

Your chemistry test went alright — maybe not your best work but okay enough that you passed. And that's all you care about as you make your way back to your apartment, intending to crash in your bed and not move for the next few hours.

The winter air leaves a chill up your spine as you swipe into your building and press the elevator button. Your nose runs a bit from the cold as it sits against your knit scarf. Bag on your arm and half-consumed coffee, you can't wait to enjoy a day or two without thinking about covalent bonds and isomers.

You close your eyes and release a sigh as the elevator door begins to close, but before it gets the chance to do so successfully, quick footsteps and a hand jammed between the closing space prompt the doors to reopen.

Not really paying attention to the stranger joining your 30-second elevator ride, you simply step to the side to make more room for them.

It's not until they make eye contact with you that you realize it's your neighbor, the same one you'd borderline terrorized a few days ago for being irritating.

He's out of breath from catching the lift last minute, lungs still adjusting from the crisp air from outside. His jacket is zipped all the way up to his collar and his hair pokes out in spiky tuffs from beneath his hat.

He mumbles out a weak "sorry" before his eyes find the floor and the rickety door shuts, leaving the two of you alone in the suddenly very small space.

You'd cuss beneath your breath if you weren't close enough for him to hear it.

What's the acceptable thing to do in this scenario? You mentally weigh out your options. Sit in an awkward silence? Introduce yourself as if your encounter never even happened? Address the fact that you banged on his door a few days ago and insulted him as a first impression?

You choose the silence. If anything, you silently pray that behind your winter apparel and the lack of eye contact, he doesn't even recognize you.

But that thought goes to shit when you see that he's already pressed the fifth-floor button for you.

You swear the ride to your floor has never been this slow. Seconds feel like hours as you watch the digital number rise like paint drying on a wall. The elevator almost laughs at you as it stops on the third floor and opens itself to find no one there; you curse whoever decided to press the button before changing their mind and taking the stairs.

After what seems like forever, your floor finally flashes on the pixelated screen, and as you feel the elevator come to a stop—

The doors don't open.

You think it's just your dramatic prolonged sense of time until it's been about ten seconds and still, nothing. Just the two of you in a stopped elevator with doors that won't unlock.

You've never been one to believe in karma, but you can't help but think this is the universe punishing you for standing up for yourself. You are quite literally on your floor, a mere sliding door away from the embarrassing situation you got yourself in, but still, nothing happens.

He presses the button meant to prompt open the doors a few times with slight force.

"It does this, sometimes," he weakly coughs out in an attempt to make conversation. "It's uh—a shitty building."

You try pressing the button for yourself, "It's never done this for me."

Green Eyes sighs, slouching against his side of the wall and letting his head fall to rest on his shoulder, "Consider yourself lucky."

You huff, giving up on the button and turning to face him.

Your eyes didn't deceive you the first time you saw him — he is just as pretty as you'd initially thought. Not a great conversationalist, but nice to look at. He avoids eye contact until you speak up.

"It's happened to you before?" you gesture to the doors that won't open.

He catches your eye before nodding defeatedly, "This is the fourth time."

You can't help but bitterly laugh at the situation you're in.

"Maybe it's just you, then," you joke, looking up at the digital five mocking you in the corner.

Though you don't catch it, his eyes soften a bit as they fall on you. The corner of his mouth slightly quirks up when he chimes, "Could be."

You let yourself count another ten seconds before tossing your hands by your sides in aggravation and sighing, "So, what now? Hit the help button or—"

And like a blessing, or maybe a curse, you can't decide, the elevator chimes, signaling its arrival. The doors open swiftly as if there was nothing wrong with them in the first place, revealing your destination floor to you.

You whip your head to your upstairs neighbor, confused and almost asking for his permission to exit the elevator. You don't know why you do so, and you don't know why you only depart after he nods his head and waves his hand for you to continue.

Next time you leave your apartment, you find yourself taking the stairs to be safe.

…..

Your peaceful living is unsurprisingly short-lived. After a few enjoyable days, you'd given your neighbors too much credit as they now return to their usual noisiness. You find yourself rapping on their door once again.

This time, Brown Eyes answers.

Even before opening his mouth, he's instantly friendlier than his counterpart based on body language alone, completely opening the door all the way wide and leaning against the frame in his palm.

He's taller than you, but not as tall as the former who greeted you last time. With light rose-colored hair, he's all smiles and giggles. You'd think he were high if you could smell anything on him.

Oh, he's also shirtless.

"Hey, it's our friend again," he smiles at you before craning his neck backward, and you can make an educated guess on who exactly he's talking to.

You're quick to steer clear, "We aren't friends."

He laughs at your words, completely unfazed by the unwelcoming attitude. He casually sips on an energy drink that looks borderline lethal when he asks, "Were we being loud? You comin' to yell at us again?"

His lack of care for the situation surprisingly doesn't rub you the wrong way. Inconvenient? Yes, but not necessarily malicious, from what you can tell.

"I wouldn't be here for any other reason."

"Sorry," he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. "We don't really have inside voices around here."

You can't help but roll your eyes at the childish excuse. "You should find some."

"Will do," he nods like a child being reprimanded in class, "sorry again."

He salutes you with a metal can in his left hand. Before you can turn your back to him and towards the elevator, you hear the same voice call out to you.

"Hey—!"

You stop midstride, slowly turning around to face the door again. He stands in the same position, leaning against the door frame as he points out the obvious.

"We didn't get your name last time."

You blink at him a few times, not caring enough to connect the dots and extend the nicety, but the friendly one persists. He places a palm on his (bare) chest as he gestures to himself, "I'm Itadori."

You nod with raised brows, "And I'm calling our landlord if you piss me off again."

You hear a soft chuckle from the inside of the apartment. The two of you turn at the sound of the noise, where Green Eyes hides his smile behind the strings of his sweatshirt and quickly returns his attention to his phone.

Itadori, apparently, looks back at you and nods to his friend, "That's Fushiguro."

You breathe out your own name and quickly make your way back towards your apartment. On the ride down to your floor, you find yourself repeating the name — Fushiguro. It tastes weird on your lips, and you hate the way you don't hate it.

..…

His name is Megumi.

You learn this when a letter shows up at your door addressed to a Fushiguro Megumi. Mail mix-ups are common in the apartment complex, but you can't help but laugh at the coincidence - his name but your apartment number clearly displayed in black ink.

You examine the piece of paper closely. The cream-colored envelope covered in poorly drawn hearts and tacky puppy stickers placed randomly across its front found itself wedged into your door's mailbox. Flipping it over, the return address is a mere surname of Gojo underlined with a smiley face.

A love letter, you realize. You're not sure why the shift in narrative suddenly fills your stomach with an uneasy weight of disappointment.

You're going out anyways, you tell yourself as you slip on your scarf and shimmy into your shoes. Between stopping at the grocery store for a few small things and dropping off overdue assignments at your professor's office, it's not like you're going out of your way to return the letter to its intended recipient. You're doing the right thing, being a good samaritan, your mind repeats.

The single flight up the stairs is easy enough and a good excuse for exercise. Approaching the door that mimics your own floor below, the same one you've already visited two times too many, you feel weirdly nervous. Just slide it beneath his door and call it a day.

As you bend to slip the paper beneath the door, it swings open.

You quickly stand up straight and back away from the opening, as the shadow in your peripheral startles from your presence and does the same.

"Shit, sorry—"

Looking up, you lock eyes with the one and only whose letter lies in your hand. Fuck.

He hesitates a bit when he realizes it's you, doing a double take and immediately assuming he's in trouble again.

"We—" Megumi, you now know him to be, turns his back to you, quickly surveying his empty apartment to show you, "aren't playing? Yuuji's not even home, so—”

You're not sure why you're the slightest bit hurt by his more than reasonable accusation. The only two times you've been at his door were to reprimand him, so of course he's not wrong to assume this time was no different. Still, it has you feeling guilty as you dryly swallow and raise your arm.

"I was sticking this under your door," you sigh, handing him the ridiculous-looking envelope. "Got sent to my place accidentally."

His eyes flicker to your extended hand, and when he sees the writing on the envelope between your fingers, his body instantly goes hot with embarrassment.

"Of course it did," he groans beneath his breath, almost annoyed.

A bit abruptly, he grabs the letter from you and places his hand behind his back, telling himself that if it's out of sight, you'll forget it ever happened entirely.

His uneasiness and slight frustration have you taking a small step back as he snatches the envelope. He senses your hesitation and immediately mourns how he acted out of instinct, sighing and slowly moving the letter from behind him to rest by his side.

He softens and clears his scratchy throat, something you've come to notice he does a lot. "Thanks."

Feeling a bit brave, you raise your eyebrows, amused at his odd behavior. Your words are taunting yet friendly when you nod to the note at his arm.

"You should probably tell your girlfriend that you're in #603, not #503."

Megumi's face is often stoic and downturned, aside from a slight pull of a smile that can rarely be seen on occasion. But at these words, you watch in regret as Megumi's expression mimics one of disgust mixed with pure mortification.

"Oh, this—" his eyes fall to the envelope he thinks might be the cause of his death, "this isn't from a girlfriend. It's actually a lot worse than that."

"Worse?" you push.

"It's... from a family friend," he weakly reveals. "Kinda like a dad, I guess."

You find yourself smiling at the meek yet sweet confession, nodding along and biting back a good-hearted laugh at his timidness.

"Right, I just assumed with the hearts and the cute stickers that—" you trail off, gesturing to the letter that clearly presents itself as something else.

He laughs a bit humorlessly and itches the back of his neck shyly.

"That would make a lot more sense and be a lot less humiliating, yeah."

You take a moment to take in his shyness. He's harmless, you decide at that very moment. You make a mental note to remind yourself to weigh the sides of the subject at hand.

Cons: awkward, obvlvious, bad neighbor, a tad unfriendly at times

Pros: annoyingly attractive, nice enough in actual conversation, respectful in passing, girlfriend-less

You shake those points from your head, taking a breath and slowly moving towards the elevator. "It could've been worse. The stickers could've been puppies and kittens," you tease.

You expect that to be all, because that's all it should be, right? An awkward yet friendly coincidence between two strangers who got off on the wrong foot. You're locked in on entering the elevator when you hear his voice from behind you.

"Sorry—" he shortly blurts out.

You turn, expecting him to elaborate on the outburst. The look on his face almost reads as if he wasn't planning to until seeing your reaction, where he explains, "That we're loud sometimes. I really do try to tell Yuuji to shut up, but he's just... a lot."

You don't know why your heart swells at the apology.

"It's fine," you nod softly. Turning your back, you call out to him as you enter the elevator. "You've actually been pretty tolerable this week, but don't let that go to your head."

As the elevator closes, you see Megumi smile before returning inside and closing his door. This time, you don't stop the thoughts that flow through your head.

Pro: cute

.….

You suppose it was only a matter of time before the tables you'd set managed to turn on you, but you just didn't expect it so soon. Because the next time you run into your neighbors, it's them knocking on your door for a change.

The sharp winter wind shakes the sides of your building with rage — the kind that results in creaky panels and systems outages in certain sectors of your building.

After waking to take a shower early this morning and being greeted with piercing cold water that refused to warm up, no matter how long you ran the faucet, you knew today would be a long one.

Clad in layers of fuzzy socks and bulky hoodies, you rise from the couch to answer the banging outside. After opening the door to see who's on the other side, it takes less than a second for the visitor to make himself at home.

"You out of hot water, too?" Yuuji casually brushes past you, walking into your home and stopping in the center of the living room. He looks around the space in awe — as if his own place just a singular level above doesn't mimic the exact same floor plan.

Still in the hallway but keeping an eye on his friend's questionable behavior, Megumi waits in the hallway. He's on the phone with someone, his cell wedged between his elbow and ear. When he begins asking about the building's backup generator, you mentally thank him for being the only proactive one here.

You sigh and turn to Yuuji, who's admiring your wall art and the fact that you have an actual television stand, "I'm out of heat in general."

"Damn," he blurts out without a thought, "that sucks."

You overhear Megumi wrapping up his conversation in the background when your lips are pulled downward in confusion.

"Are you guys not?"

"Oh no, we are," Yuuji continues admiring your apartment with a child-like curiosity, "but we have a space heater that's doing the job for now. How are you so good at decorating?"

You ignore his question, turning to Megumi who now stands on the threshold of your doorway. He makes a face, one of tight lips and sympathy, almost as if he's wordlessly apologizing for both the unfortunate scenario and his roommate's lack of social etiquette.

You further wrap yourself in your own little warmth, crossing your arms inwards. "That's actually really smart of you guys," you manage to croak out.

"You can come up and chill if you want," Yuuji mindlessly offers, eyes scanning over the magnets on your fridge. He can't stop himself from fiddling with a cherry-shaped one that holds up a baby picture of you from kindergarten.

The shock on your face must be obvious because you swear you hear Megumi swallow a chuckle at your reaction.

"You came down here… to ask me to chill?" Your voice octaves up towards the end, almost as if repeating the offer will reveal itself to be a track or joke.

While Yuuji nods eagerly, you can hear Megumi muttering from behind the neckline of his sweatshirt.

"Sue us for extending a neighborly olive branch."

As Yuuji continues to outwardly snoop around your kitchen, his eyes land on your oven-top clock and he whines.

"I actually have class in twenty and need to catch the shuttle to campus, but you're welcome to not freeze to death with Fushiguro, if you want."

You check your phone, confirming the time when you question, "Didn't the last shuttle of the hour leave already?"

You watch the gears turn in Itadori's mind for a second before he smacks a palm to his head, quickly brushing past you and out the door.

"Fuck me, see you guys later then—" he hurries, the only sound following him being the swishing of his winter coat and clunky booted footsteps jostling down the stairs.

And with Megumi still standing in your doorway and the sound of the main staircase gate slamming behind Yuuji's path, you could hear a pin drop between the two of you if it weren't for the howling wind outside (which you find yourself suddenly grateful for rather than loathing it).

Megumi shifts his weight on the balls of his feet as he stands. He clears his throat in a way he hopes is subtle.

"You can still come up," he gestures to the hallway with a nod of his head, before cautiously adding, "if you want."

Instinctively, you feel your body curl further in on itself. Megumi must notice it too, as his eyes quickly flicker to your raw hands tucked beneath your arms.

"It's not that bad in here," you weakly dismiss.

He deadpans, "I can almost see your breath."

A sigh leaves your chilled body and you look up at Megumi. Now it's your turn to silently communicate with him — eyebrows raising and wavering between your options, you chew on your cheek in thought.

"You don't have to," he softly adds, hands burrowing themselves in the pocket of his hoodie. "Just wanted to see if you needed anything, I guess."

"What did the landlord say?" your words are muffled from your teeth in your cheek.

Megumi's eyes light up a bit before they find his scuffed Converse again.

"He's sending his guys over, but it's gonna take an hour, at least."

After another minute that feels like twenty, you softly speak up.

"…Do you really have a space heater?"

As he fights off a smile, Megumi gently nods.

.….

You'll admit, the apartment looks better than you'd imagined. Not that your standards weren't too high to begin with, but you're pleasantly surprised.

Megumi unlocks the front door, gesturing for you to enter as he slowly closes it behind him, shivering a bit from the draft weaving through the hallway.

It's clean, relatively. The design of the rooms and open areas are identical to your layout below, but between the decor (or lack thereof) and the overhanging presence of the space, it feels so different.

Their television, the one you know to be responsible for their rowdiness, balances on what looks to be a bedside table. Far too small for the proportions of the TV but just enough to carry the width of the screen's base, it looks silly but does the job.

"You can just…" Megumi waves his hand to the living room, awkwardly trailing off as he insists. "Sit. Wherever you want."

Your seating choices include a felt futon in scrappy condition, two lopsided beanbags, and a busted recliner. You take your chances with the futon.

Surveying the apartment, it's not terrible — truthfully, you'd been expecting worse from college guys. You give them props; aside from a few half-drank plastic water bottles and withering plants on their window sill, there's nothing that outwardly goes against any health violations or suitable living standards. No empty beer cans or pizza boxes, no trashy flags or posters hung on the walls. It's decent.

And the space heater working overtime in the corner outlet is a major plus. Feeling the angle of its warmth blasting on your legs, you exhale at the heat and rub your fuzzy slippers together on instinct.

"Do you want anything?" Megumi stands a few feet away, nervous for someone in the comfort of his own home, "Water or a drink, or something?"

It's sweet how respectful he's being — you think back to whoever sent him that letter, imagining they raised him right.

You shake your head curtly, "I don't take drinks from strange men."

His face drops instantly.

"Oh—right," he swallows harshly, fumbling with his sparse words. "I didn't mean it like that or anything, but that makes sense. I just meant—”

The stoic expression you were attempting to upkeep fails and you can't fight off the smile that pulls at your cheeks. Exhaling a laugh and looking over at him, you apologize, "I'm just kidding, Megumi."

He feels his stomach instantly solidify like cement at your words — Megumi. He doesn't recall you ever referring to him by any name, let alone his first. He feels a wandering heat itching up his neck when he coughs up a chuckle.

He shakes his head, sitting on the opposite end of the futon and leaving the middle cushion between the two of you unoccupied.

"Fuck off," he scratches his jaw to busy his shaky hands. In doing so, you catch a glimpse of a few silver rings wrapping around his knuckles.

As the warmth of the space heater (solely the space heater, you remind yourself) gradually dissolves the chill that's been stuck up your spine for the last few hours, you slightly settle further into your seat.

"So this is the scene of the crime, huh?" you motion to the gaming console propped up on the floor beside the makeshift television stand.

Megumi amuses an exhale through his nose and nods along, "Yeah. I mean, you've kinda seen it from the hallway before."

"Yeah, but this is the real thing, first-person point of view. It's just missing me downstairs hitting the ceiling with my broom twenty times."

The next few minutes are stolen by a whole lot of small talk that holds no weight. Beginning to panic at how the hell you're gonna make it through this entire hour with little to talk about, your eyes fall on the television once more.

"So," you curl into the futon. "Show me something worth screaming over."

Without warning, Megumi chokes on his own saliva as he swallows.

"Huh?"

"A game," you quickly correct, not realizing how your words sounded and nodding to the television before you. "I meant, show me a game that justifies how loud you two get."

The game is fine, nothing revolutionary but admit that you could see how it could be entertaining for some. A standard battle royal concept, Megumi hands you his second controller and walks you through the instructions on how to play.

You mimic the way his fingers hold the controller, how they flex and bend to hit certain buttons for special uses. Throughout the tutorial of trial and error, the two of you naturally close the gap of the middle cushion, now much closer as you copy his movements and use his hands for reference. He even goes as far as reaching over to point out certain buttons to you, skimming your fingers hesitantly as he pulls away.

It's safe to say you don't win, don't even come close, but he's a good sport all the same. He laughs when you're hit by enemies and revives you with little to no mocking. He whispers an encouraging "there you go" whenever you manage to land a hit on someone, followed by an "I got you" when he's covering for your character. It's fun — you freeze a bit when you realize that you like spending time with him, even doing the very thing that caused this entire debacle in the first place.

You don't realize how much time has passed until Megumi's phone vibrates from the coffee table. His eyes quickly glance over the unsaved number, almost as if recognizes the contact and is debating on answering or not.

Your eyes narrow teasingly when you taunt, "You gonna take that?"

Snapped out of his thoughts, Megumi nods, swipes his screen, and holds his phone to his ear.

"Hello?"

The conversation is short, maybe thirty seconds in total. Though you can't make out any specific words, you can hear the rumbling of another deep voice on the other end of the call. Megumi listens half-heartedly, nodding along and chiming in here and there to acknowledge the caller.

"Hey, yeah. That was me. Right, okay. Okay, nice. Thanks, appreciate it."

The call ends and Megumi puts his phone down on the coffee table once more. You swear you can hear a small sense of disappointment in his voice when he breathes.

"That was the maintenance guy," he breathes softly. "Heat's back on."

You feel your own body getting sour with misfortune. Why are you so bitter about the thought of going back downstairs to your own apartment?

Nodding at his words, you slowly stand and do your best to sound relieved. "Thank god," you joke, "I was beginning to think I might have to sleep on this gross futon."

Megumi sneers, rolling his eyes and rising to walk you to the door. Before you step into the hallway, you turn to face him.

"Thanks," your tone is spineless, one he's unable to recognize from you before you elaborate, "for letting me leech off of your heat."

"No problem," he shoots you a genuine look. "Consider it reparations for all of the times we've annoyed you."

"All of the times?" you shoot him a harmless glare.

Unlike most who cower and scowl at your sarcastic quips, Megumi seems to bloom beneath your daggered attempts at pushing him away.

"Fine," he exaggerates a groan, "maybe not all. But it's a start, right?"

A start. The insinuation tickles all air out of your lungs like a feather. Though you pretend to be annoyed and kiss your teeth at his words, you nod all the same.

Leaving his door, Megumi seems lighter than he did when you first entered.

"Sorry you just kinda watched me play video games for almost two hours," he calls out to you as you depart, hands returning to his pockets.

"Don't be," you honestly tell him as your head cranes back to look at him. "It was nice to be up here for reasons other than wanting to strangle you."

.….

A day and a half later when the universe has realigned itself and it's you knocking on their door again, they half expect you to be followed by your stuffy landlord holding an eviction notice.

Much to their surprise, you're alone, rather skittish — and holding a tupperware container of… cookies?

It's Megumi who opens the door initially, but Yuuji is quick to squeeze his way into the opening at the sight of your familiar face and mysterious delivery in hand.

"Ooooooh, what are these?" he inquires, unashamed as he pokes his nose into your space in an attempt to get a better look at the baked goods.

Pulling a bit away from his antics, you swallow back any potential wisecracks.

"Thank you for being neighborly and not letting me die of hypothermia cookies," you keep your voice neutral.

"Are they poisoned?" Megumi pipes in.

You shoot him a scowl, one he's learned is innocent enough, and his eyes crinkle in amusement.

"Shit, can't remember if I added vanilla or vitriol?" your head cocks to the side in faux thought.

Your eyes flicker to him as he chews on his cheek in a half-assed attempt to cover up his entertainment at your quickness.

Yuuji, focused on nothing but having a minimum of five cookies for good measure, snatches the container from your hands and carries it to the kitchen counter.

He's already opening the dish and helping himself as he chews, "I don't even know what that is, so I'm gonna take my chances."

Megumi gives a quick thank you for the cookies, and Yuuji chimes in behind a satiated mouth and crumby lips. You brush off their graces, reminding them it's just you returning the favor for the heating situation.

Just as you're about to see yourself out of their entryway, you hear an authentic offer from the kitchen.

"Hey," Yuuji wipes his lips with the back of his hand, and something about it feels oddly youthful to you, "wanna come over this weekend?"

You look at the two of them for a moment, waiting to see if there's a punchline to come, before carefully treading, "Why?"

"We're havin' some friends over," Yuuji reveals casually before going to take another large bite, "and I guess you're funny enough to hang out with us."

The hesitation in your response must be more apparent than you think because he's quick to chuckle and elaborate on the offer.

"It's not an orgy," he teases at your stiffness before grabbing at another cookie and shrugging. "We get take out, chill, drink a little, kick ass in Mario Kart."

You nod as you listen to his words. He's kind, they both are, and you know the offer to be a genuine one. Still, the situation makes your stomach ache with uncertainty at the thought of mingling with strangers for the sake of your mere — acquaintances? Neighbors? Friends?

"As fun as that sounds," you breathe, clearly trying but failing to convince them of your apologetic tone, "I don't really wanna intrude on you and your friends.

"It's not intruding if you're invited," Megumi interjects for the first time in the conversation.

Looking at where he stands against the counter, his eyes are on you. They're careful, but hopeful in a gentle kind of way. He wants you to say yes — but he'd rather swallow a knife than his own pride and admit it himself.

Your words are unconvincing when you sigh, "Not really in the hangout mood. Next time, okay?"

The two men deflate a bit, one more dramatic and obvious than the other, but they nod at your rejection. Wiping his hands off on his shorts, Yuuji walks you to the door, thanking you again for the sweets and joking about you getting home safe on your long journey back downstairs.

You can't help but giggle at his theatrics, insisting that, "If you need me this weekend, I'll be rotting away on my couch with a bottle of wine and a week's worth of Love Island to catch up on."

Yuuji laughs wholeheartedly, "Your loss, see ya."

Megumi weakly waves as his best friend swings the door shut. Once closed, Yuuji turns to him with a cheeky smile he knows can mean nothing good.

Megumi grimaces at his enthusiasm, "What?"

Yuuji nods to the door, a toothy grin spreading across his face. "Think I'm gonna ask her out."

Megumi's quick to react poorly.

"What?" he borderline knocks over the water bottle next to him on the counter. He catches it, embarrassed by his obvious care for the situation as he tries to cover it up with a nonchalant scoff, "Why?"

Yuuji stares at him for a minute in disbelief before stating what he believes to be the obvious.

"'Cause she's hot and yells at us all the time?"

Megumi scoffs in distaste again. He fiddles with the rings on his right hand, pretending to be careless about a situation he's anything but careful about.

Sensing his roommate's off response, Itadori's quick to add. "Unless you wanna call dibs before I do?"

"Dibs?" Megumi groans.

"Yeah, like claiming—"

"I know what dibs means," he interrupts before Yuuji can dig his own grave any further. He slumps into the palm of his hand as his elbow rests atop the kitchen counter, "I just think that's shitty."

Yuuji, knowing Megumi well enough to sense that he's hit a sour spot, nods and backs off. He joins him at the counter again, oblivious as he grabs another cookie to chomp on. With cautious eyes and a mouth filled with chocolate, he speaks up.

"…So you don't wanna call dibs?"

.….

It's Saturday, almost Sunday, according to the cat clock on your wall.

You'd kept your word. Beneath a few blankets and practically one with your couch cushions, you're spending your weekend doing exactly what you'd anticipated.

The television continues to play the stream of episodes you're catching up on. With your second glass of red in hand, you tune in and out of the segments when the good parts catch your attention. It feels good to relax, to do nothing and to be nothing behind tipsy and fatigued eyes.

A sudden knock on your door puts a minor wedge in your plans. Sitting up with a groan, you whimper beneath your breath but move to answer it regardless.

Maybe you forgot to tip your delivery driver when he dropped off your takeout a few hours ago and he's back for revenge. Maybe it's your drunk friends, showing up to ruin your night and attempting to persuade you to join them on their foolish escapades. Maybe it's someone with the wrong address.

Locking eyes with the visitor at your door, it's Megumi. Maybe you're drunker than you thought.

His delicate eyes match yours when he scarcely smiles, "Hi."

Your eyes go to the items in his hands — a few beer bottles, a bag of chocolate-covered pretzels, and a deck of cards.

Giggling to yourself, you stare at him, "I think you got off a floor too early."

Megumi laughs, and when you're able to get a good look at him, you can tell he's a bit tipsy, too. His shoulders aren't as tense as they usually are, he's still broad, but a lot looser now. His eyes are glossed over with a haze you're sure yours mimic. He scratches his nose awkwardly before opening his mouth.

"I—" he cuts himself off, eyes darting to the items in his arms before returning to you, "wanted to see you."

"Me?" you're unable to stop yourself from nearly gawking.

He laughs again, not obnoxiously but easy and natural. "Yes, you. Does someone else live here?"

"Don't you have plans with your friends?" you question, still not letting him inside.

"They're upstairs," he nods, "and no, I'm not here to force you to come up."

At his words, he can see your visible relief. Opening the door fully and letting him come inside, you relish in reassurance, "Good, I really didn't wanna be fake nice right now."

A smile pulls at the corners of his mouth as he sets his belongings on your coffee table. "Fake nice?" he prompts.

"I mean, not that it's fake, it's just like—customer servicey. Y'know? Being kind to people in a way that's not ingenuine but—"

"Exhausting?" he finishes for you, and he's weirdly more talkative with a bit of alcohol in his veins. "Yeah, I feel that."

You sprawl onto your couch and he takes the seat next to you but refrains from leaning back as far. He watches you graze on your glass of wine, your legs crossed childishly as you gaze up at him.

"Are you like that with me?" he puts on a brave face. "Fake nice?"

He releases a breath he didn't even know he was holding when you shake your head. After a hearty sip from your drink, you talk dramatically with your hands.

"Am I even real nice to you? I've kinda been a bitch since the day I banged on your door."

Megumi shakes his head as he laughs, which in return allows you to do the same. He relaxes a bit further into the warmth of your cushions, lolling his head to look at you as he opens himself a beer.

"I don't think so," he shrugs. "You're not wrong for complaining about us being understandably annoying."

Things lighten up as time passes. The night gets a bit blurry but it's fun, carefree. The two of you sit on your tiny couch, passing a bag of pretzels back and forth, and playing stupid card games that bring out your competitive sides and don't have real rules.

Minutes bleed into hours and you're not sure what time it is when it's late enough for Megumi to start yawning. Enjoying a comfortable silence between the two of you, his voice is temperate when he asks.

"Why didn't you want to hang out with us?"

He almost seems mournful, and a part of you feels guilty as his eyes blink heavily down on you. You exhale, readjusting your legs and throwing your head back.

"Seemed like a friend group thing," is what eventually crawls up from your throat. "Felt weird being the only one who didn't know everyone, y'know?"

He considers before nodding in agreement. "Yeah, I guess. But I would've been with you."

His stare feels sharp, like he can see right through your facade and into parts of you you've buried deep a long time ago. You hate it and love it, want to drown yourself in it and voluntarily inhale until your own demise.

Unable to hold his stare, you look into your almost empty glass, swishing around the bleeding wine and ice that remains at the bottom.

"Well, you're here with me now, anyway."

Megumi continues to admire you without words. Pointing an accusatory finger back at him, you nudge his leg with your foot. "So, why aren't you up there?"

"Cause you didn't show up," he doesn't hesitate to respond. Almost as if he regrets his eagerness but still stands by the sentiment, he clears his throat before adding, "Was weirdly hoping you would, but—"

He doesn't finish his sentence, trailing off with a lame shrug.

His eyes look greener when they're a bit more watery. Fuck it.

Slowly, maintaining eye contact with him the entire time to assess his reactions, you move to crawl into his lap. You sense a difference in his breathing pattern, but other than that, he makes no move to pull away from you. He lets you carefully straddle his legs before getting comfortable atop him, when he places his hands on the plush between your hips and thighs.

Leaning in, giving him any chance to reject you, stop you, hate you, you continue to keep his eye as your lips just barely brush against his. He does the same, refusing to look away from you as if he'll never get this opportunity again. As if he wants to take a picture and relish it forever.

"Stop me," you bite through a hushed whisper, daring him to put an end to this before it begins.

His breath is lulled against your own when he whispers, "No."

You kiss him, and he kisses you back. It starts simple, like you're learning all about one another's creases and folds. Between shaky inhales and nervous hands, you lean into one another's touch, savoring every taste and sound you can manage.

Megumi feels brave, and on one particular gasp from you, he prudently skims his tongue across your lower lip before slipping it inside. Rubbing against your own with a fervent need, you open your jaw further for him to have whatever he wants. Between your increased breathing, soft moans, and greedy hands, the two of you slowly become messy and desperate for one another.

Hips wantonly moving against his thighs, he flexes instinctually as you begin to grind yourself down on him. He meets your movements, half hard as he presses into you, both of you whimpering at the new-found friction. The two of you reduce to whiney teenagers, practically swallowing one another whole and dry-humping fully clothed before you open your eyes to look at him.

Megumi, eyes shut and whimpering into your neck, is too good for this — deserves more than this. He's kind, respectful, funny (though you'd never tell him that to his face), and you're both drunk. It feels so fucking good, but it isn't right. It's not supposed to happen like this.

Slowing your movements, you pull back to see his face. Dazed, he opens his pretty green eyes to look up at you like you hold the stars and sun in your hands.

"We shouldn't," you pant, brushing your bangs back and catching your breath. "We should stop."

Megumi, confused and hurt, but instantly moving you off of his lap with a gentle hold, nods in agreement. "Right, right, we're — we're drunk," he whispers, almost ashamed of everything that just happened.

Before you can say anything, he's readjusting himself and standing up. A bit more sober than he was a few minutes ago, he's straightening himself out and making his way to your door.

"Sorry—" he keeps repeating himself, "I'm… I'm so sorry."

He's gone before you can reassure him that there's nothing to apologize for.

.....

You don't hear from him the next morning — or afternoon.

When night falls, you've given up that there's any hope of saving whatever it was the two of you had going.

Wanting to drown yourself in your own sorrows, you stare at the text from your friend before you and weigh your options.

Stay in, cry yourself to a babbling mess, and finish your show

Answer their text and agree to go to this party with them

Thinking back to last night and how badly you fucked that one up, you decide the first choice is off-limits. Hoping you don't regret your decision, it's not long before you're looking decent enough to lock your door behind you and start the commute to your friends.

The walk isn't terrible, being ten minutes to your friend's place and an additional fifteen to whoever's party you're attending. On the west side of campus, you can hear the muffled music and drunken squeals of the attendees from down the street.

The party itself is fine, nothing special. The lime seltzer in your hand is still half full when you stray away from your friends in search of the bathroom.

There's a line formed down the hallway of drunk girls laughing, couples swallowing one another's faces, and a single guy slumped against the wall in his own world. Taking a second glance at the end of the line, you recognize the lone drunk as Yuuji.

Gently tapping his shoulder, his eyes blink open and he's nearly crushing you to death when wrapping his arms around you in excitement. He lets his animation get the best of him, lifting you in the air and spinning you once before he realizes he can't handle another. Leaning on the wall to steady both you and him, you're smiling at his sloppy yet endearing enthusiasm.

"What are you doing here!?" he beams, swaying back and forth and reeking of cheap booze.

"My friends dragged me out of the house," you tease before noticing truly how incoherent he is. Your nose crinkles with worry, "You fucked up?"

He can barely stand up straight, eyes unable to focus in one spot for too long as he blearily looks at you before skimming his body against the wall again. He's talking in slow gibberish, something about having one too many and wanting to talk to this pretty girl from his linguistics lecture before she leaves.

"Hey," you gently grab his jaw to steady his gaze. "Did you come here alone?"

Yuuji doesn't answer, or rather he does but it's nonsensical and impossible to go off of. You sigh, quickly scanning the suddenly overwhelming crowd around you before grabbing his arm and speaking kindly, yet reflective of a mother.

"Let me take you back to our building, okay?" you prompt him to stand up straight and follow your lead. "I'm going back anyways, I'll walk with you."

Yuuji's eyes light up with excitement at the thought of a journey with his neighbor friend, and it's not long before he's dragging his feet over one another and using your hand as a guide to the door.

On your walk home, you ache for the comfort of your warm bed, the feeling of taking these god-forsaken heels off, and Megumi's forgiveness. You wonder if you'll see him when dropping off Yuuji at his door — you pathetically hope so.

However, Yuuji didn't show up to this party alone.

Megumi, who had been grabbing him a drink and caught a glimpse of you two, saw the entire thing without context — Yuuji's hands around your waist, you caressing his jaw, the two of you leaving abruptly together.

He downs both his and Yuuji's drinks with ease.

..…

Megumi wasn't home.

Disappointed but relieved to see Yuuji safe in the comfort of his apartment, you help him collapse on his couch.

Turning him on his side and making him drink at least two cups of water before throwing a blanket over him and leaving a note, you close the door behind you with a heavy heart.

A few minutes later, you're a bit more at ease. Feet now ridden of silly high heels and skin against the soft cotton of your bed, you find yourself flooded with thoughts of Megumi.

You wake up to a constant thud on your front door. Picking up your phone, it's almost two in the morning and you're not even sure you're not dreaming when you're feet carry you to the blistering noise of a fist on your door.

Swinging it open with half-closed eyes, you're more than prepared to fight a murder charge to get whoever the hell this is to leave you alone. But before you can curse them with everything in you, you realize it's Megumi.

"Hi," he whispers. It's a start contrast from the violent banging on your door he was responsible for two seconds ago, but you can't find it in yourself to care.

"Hi," you respond, suddenly more than awake and just as breathless. "You okay?"

"Are you sleeping with Yuuji?"

Your heart skips exactly two beats before you can accurately comprehend his question. It's then when you notice that he's drunk, disgustingly so. You're not sure how it wasn't the first thing you noticed - but looking at his green eyes again, you give yourself some grace.

"… What?" is all you can pathetically muster.

"Itadori," he slurs. His face is pale with hurt and the collar of his shirt is all wrinkled.

You can't help but roll your eyes, "Yeah, I know who Yuuji is, but why the hell are you asking me that?"

"Because you shouldn't be," he declares through a heavy tongue and spinning head. You think you hear his voice crack with emotion when he continues, "I don't want you to sleep with him."

You're sure you're still dreaming as you take in his words. Since the moment you knocked on the door one floor above you, sleeping with Yuuji has never crossed your mind. You've been far too busy focusing on thinking about the man in front of you, who's wasted beyond belief and accusing you of something that not only doesn't make sense but hurts a bit.

He fumbles on his words, swallowing dryly and spiraling.

"You shouldn't sleep with him just because he walks around shirtless and invites you to hang out with us."

Your eyebrows pull downwards with what Megumi knows is hurt. He can't stop himself from talking or spewing nonsensical things just because he can.

Your voice is shaky when you plea, "Megumi, what?"

"I mean—he's my best friend, he's great," he throws his hands up to surrender the truth. "But we played video games and—and we kissed. And you're always looking at me with those eyes and—"

"Megumi," your voice comes tired now, cold. "You're drunk."

"You left with him. And you were whispering in his ear and touching his arm." He frowns, feeling sick just thinking about it again. He shakes the nightmare from his head when repeating his prior question.

"Are you sleeping with him?" he asks again, more accusatory this time around.

He watches your eyes fill with water, but it's not long-lived before you're blinking away any sign of weakness and cementing your walls up again.

"If you didn't notice," you spit with venom, "your friend is drunk off of his ass. I walked him home since he could barely stand on his own."

As if you're speaking another language, Megumi dumbly gapes at your confession.

"You—what?"

You press with ice in your words, "Walked him home. He's passed out on your couch right now."

"Oh." Megumi hadn't returned to his apartment before coming to yours. He'd walked home from the shitty party with one destination in mind, immediately talking the elevator to the fifth floor and finding your familiar floor.

He feels stupid, nauseous with guilt, and god, does his head hurt. His heart hurts too when you scoff and cross your arms in defense.

"Wanna go back to the part where you were practically calling me a slut?"

He cringes, "No, no god no, that's not what I was trying to—"

You don't give him the luxury of explaining himself. Turning your back and slamming the door, you take away his chance of redemption.

You sound unrecognizable when you tell him, "Go to fucking bed, Fushiguro."

.….

The birds outside of your window remind you that it's Sunday, and the open book on your desk reminds you that not only do you have class tomorrow, but you have an assignment due before midnight.

Memories of last night's conversation — if you could even call it that — with Megumi make you feel queazy. Nothing happened in the way you'd wanted. It all just spiraled out of control, like water slipping through a cracked ceiling, you'd just watched it leak without remorse.

The continued chirping outside reminds you that it's quiet, something you should use to your advantage. A light in this mess of a pathetic story.

You'll study, you decide. You'll grab a quick coffee from the cafe across the street and get some actual work done. Something you should've done a long time ago, something you’d ignored that ended up with this this heartbreak.

Not even ten minutes later, you're decent enough to slide your shoes on and grab your house keys. Opening the door into the hallway, you're met with familiar eyes.

Megumi looks disheveled, sitting with his knees up against the wall of your hallway. At your abrupt opening of the front door, he's quick to stand up and dust his pants off from the grime of the hallway carpet. You notice he has a paper bouquet of pinks and blues in his hand and an exhausted frown on his face.

When he looks at you, he can almost feel the air leaving your lungs as your stomach drops.

The first words you say to him are softer than he expects, than he thinks he deserves, but still carried by a look of disapproval.

"Were you here all night?" your lip turns with disgust.

"No—" he spews too quickly. Seeing your expression that clearly reads disbelief, he slows himself down. Taking a deep breath, he repeats himself with a bit more certainty. "No, I've been here since like, seven maybe?"

"Why?"

His hand trembles in a way he hopes you have the respect to ignore as he moves to give you the bouquet. "Because I'm sorry," his voice is steady, like he's been practicing in the mirror.

Choosing to make him work for it, your eyes flicker to the flowers unimpressed before finding his face again.

"For?" you cruelly push him further.

But Megumi's determined to meet your forces just as equally. His voice gains confidence as he speaks clearly, "For panicking and assuming the worst last night. I was drunk, but that's not an excuse. It was a douchebag thing to do."

Admiring how your face softens at his apology but still carries creased lines of worry, Megumi half expects your response.

"And?"

This is the part he's a bit unprepared for.

"And for leaving that night," his volume dips with the confession, eyes wanting to find comfort in the floor so badly but refusing to leave your own as he tries and tries and tries to fix this, "I..."

His lips move before he can think twice about his words, "I thought it was what you wanted."

His confession cracks something inside of you, like nails digging crescents into raw skin. Slowly, you gesture for him to come inside. He hesitates but follows when you move towards the couch, the same couch you'd straddled him on two nights prior. It looks different in the daylight.

Megumi's careful with each step, as if he's walking on eggshells, when he slowly sits beside you on the couch. Placing the bouquet on your table, he moves as if you're a predator, as if he'll make one wrong move and you'll snap, lurching at him and sinking your talons into his neck. You hate how it makes you feel.

Your words surprise the both of you when they eventually come. "I'm sorry I reacted the way I did. I wanted you to stay I just—felt bad."

Felt bad? Megumi's mind goes numb at the realization. Felt bad for him? Like when you do a good deed to cancel out a bad one? Did you kiss him that night because you pitied him?

Before his mind runs itself further into the worst-case scenario, he's brought back to reality as you continue.

"We were drunk, and I didn't want that to be how it happened y'know?"

He starts at you blankly, "It?" He lamely asks.

This time, it's your voice that weakens with shame. He watches you fiddle with your fingers, the same ones he remembers feeling in his hair and on his skin. The ones he wants to feel again.

"Felt like I was coming onto you, and you deserved better than that," you eventually reveal softly, correcting yourself with certainty. "Deserve better than that."

And he feels stupid. God, does Megumi feel stupid. All this time, he'd been thinking you regretted the why of the situation, kissing him like you did. He'd never stopped to think about the fact of how you did it. Never thought you'd be so inclined to consider his wishes.

You think he regrets it, and that is the last thing he wants you to believe.

Taking a risk, Megumi lays a gentle palm on your thigh. He does so slowly, giving you a chance to revolt and bite his hand clean off the bone. You don't so he relaxes his hand.

It's not sexual, not desperate and needy like how it was the other night. It's calm. comforting. Another way for him to say I'm still here, aren't I?

"I'm not great with words," he starts, "but I was very much into it. I need you to know that. You didn't—do anything I didn't want."

Softly and ignoring the criticism from the voice in your head for once, you nod.

You recognize the familiar pull of his lips when he softly grins. "Think it's pretty obvious now, but in case it's not," he leans into this whole communicating thing, "I really like being around you."

He thinks his heart grows a size when you weakly smile back at him, "You like being around me?"

He shrugs, laughing at your sarcasm. "Around you, with you. I guess I just like you, really."

You raise your eyebrows, challenging his statement, "Are you still drunk?"

"Fuck no."

You hum shortly. "Hungover?"

"Disgustingly so," he grimaces at the reminder of how nauseous he is.

"Thinking clearly?"

"Never really around you, but clear as I can be."

It's soft and sweet, and this is how you wanted it to be. Naturally, as if you're both magnets being pulled to one another, Megumi is carefully guiding you into his lap as you're naturally making yourself at home in his hold.

The position almost exactly mimics the one you'd found yourself in on Friday night, but this time, it's different. It feels different — golden instead of red and light with a newfound meaning.

With gentle eyes and slight nods from each of you, you kiss once more. His mouth moves the same, eager yet graceful as he leans into you. No wandering hands or drunken hiccups, you feel one another smile into the kiss until it is all giggles and teeth.

"Y'know, if you wanted to ask me out," you pull away from him, accusatory with an underlying teasing, "you should've just asked like a normal person instead of accusing me of sleeping with your friend."

Megumi groans in embarrassment, hiding his face in your neck. You feel the heat of his cheeks when he sighs.

"Yeah, that wasn't my finest moment."

Kisses are stolen and silence is shared until he yawns you remember how awful he must still feel from drinking so much. Crawling off of his lap, you ignore the butterflies in your stomach whines he whines at the loss of your weight.

"Want anything?" you call out as you walk towards the kitchenette. "I have Advil and a bagel with your name on it."

Megumi hums at the thought, not confirming or denying the offer, as his eyes remain locked in on you in a blissful comfort.

Your voice becomes more distant as you turn the corner, "I'll even give you those eyes I know you like so much."

A muffled sound of humiliation can be heard from the couch, "God, please forget I said that."

Putting the bagel in the toaster and reaching up to the medicine cabinet, you laugh carelessly.

"Never."

…..

Yuuji wakes up with a throbbing headache and an acidic burning in the back of his throat.

He groans, turning on his side before realizing that — he's not in his bed. With blurry vision and sweaty hands fumbling to survey the environment around him, he feels for his phone. The screen is far too bright and completely overridden of missed calls and texts, reading a mocking 2:14 PM when he groans.

When yelling Megumi's name a handful of times doesn't work (it usually does), he opens his Find My Friends app and tracks his roommate. Seeing his icon appear right next to his own while ironically hearing your echoing laughter ring from upstairs, he laughs.

Before he closes his eyes again and deals with a hangover from hell, he sends Megumi a text before tossing his phone across the room.

Ur welcome for not actually calling dibs.

#ive looked at this too long and need it out of my face #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #megumi x you #megumi fic #megumi fushiguro fic #jjk megumi #megumi fluff #megumi fushiguro fluff #megumi smut #megumi fushiguro smut

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hangup119 · 3 months

Text

ඞ JOIN GAME?

twenty-two. galvanized steel and eco-friendly wood veneers

warnings: spoilers for jujutsu kaisen (manga only), cringe brain rot 😓

NERVOUS WOULD BE A COMPLETE AND UTTER UNDERSTATEMENT FOR WHAT ANTON LEE CURRENTLY FELT.

After he had made sure that the stream was officially over and that his camera was no longer running, he had made a quick dash towards the nearest mirror in a vain attempt of making sure he didn’t look too much of a try-hard with his outfit and hair. Only after making sure that he didn’t look like either, he gathered the last of his wits (what much was left after playing Resident Evil 4 for two whole hours anyway) and proceeded to make his way down to the lobby to finally meet the ”girl of his dreams,” according to the embarrassing, spur-of-the-moment tweet he had made earlier. He cringed just to even think back on it.

“Where is she?” Anton muttered as he stepped out of the elevator, quickly looking around the relatively empty lobby for any sign of you, much to no avail.

Well, this is it, he thought while attempting to steel his nerves for the umpteenth time. This was the moment all previous chapters have accumulated to—the peak of countless weeks of having known each other online in and out of streaming and private DMs he would sometimes think about during the crack of dawn on a random Tuesday. He figured that there wasn't much to do now since he already hyped himself up while he was cleaning this morning, and recently just now when he was still five floors above. Sure, he probably looked real stupid when he kept repeating affirmations to himself (“your rizz is real, your rizz is real…!”) in front of whoever was monitoring the CCTVs today, but Anton realized that he was far too skittish about your short-notice meet up to truly care about others’ perception of him anymore. Which, in hindsight, was concerning. He wonders if he needs to schedule an appointment at the doctor’s…

“Boo.”

Anton jumped lamely, cursing under his breath before having it immediately taken away when he turned around to face you.

You blinked up at him.

“Woah,” you said, a bit surprised, “you’re so… tall.”

“And you're so… short,” was his genius response.

“What was that?” you asked darkly. Anton gulped nervously, but then you looked at him quizzically. “No, like, seriously, what’d you say? I couldn’t hear you properly; your voice is too soft, man.”

Oh, okay. He almost breathed out a sigh of relief because you didn’t hear that.

“Nothing important,” Anton stammered, hastily ushering you towards the elevator doors without giving you a chance to say anything else. “Let’s just go. You wanna see the fish, right?”

“But I—…” you trailed off, watching him hurriedly press the buttons on the wall. “Yeah, okay,” you breathed out eventually, awkwardly fiddling with the straps of your bag. When the doors finally closed, Anton stood back and glanced at you briefly. It didn’t go unnoticed however, as you quickly returned the look, offering him a small, steady grin.

“Hi,” you greeted.

“Hi,” he nodded back at you, before tearing his gaze away.

Anton didn’t bother to say anything else, and neither did you, so it was safe to say that the ride towards the seventh floor ended up being a little awkward, what with him trying to discreetly steal glances at you every now and then without you noticing, far too busy finding out what’s so interesting about the elevator ceiling.

By the tenth urge, he realized just how hard it was to resist looking at you.

Truly, incredibly, and scarily concerning.

Now, don’t get it wrong: Anton’s not the kind to just fall for anyone that easily. Sure, he may be young and chronically online and knows too much brain rot-terminology for his own good, but he wasn’t some fourteen-year-old on Discord with a Ken Kaneki profile picture who’d join random servers that would probably die within three months, snag an E-Girlfriend within that time frame before breaking up with her because ‘LDR just won’t work out, babe, it’s not you, it’s me’ or however those situations would go. He was better than that, or so he’d like to think. (Although he was, unfortunately, a twenty-year-old on Discord.)

Point is, Anton wasn’t stupid enough to fall for just anyone he met online—much less someone he met on Roblox Altitorture, for goodness sake! He can entertain the thought of finding them pretty through pictures he’s seen online, yeah, and he can entertain his friend’s teasing remarks about his supposed crush on someone he hasn’t even met, but Anton liked to believe that it never was that serious. He wasn’t that jealous over you sitting all alone inside another guy’s house, looking after another guy’s fish, or planning to spend another guy’s fifty bucks on useless micro-transactions he could buy for you as quick as lightning without you having to lift a finger (and he has!), and he definitely wasn’t that serious when he accidentally blurted out a sentence that could potentially jeopardize the fanbase he had been steadily building up since he was fifteen, right?

And inviting you over to his house under the pretext of taking a look at his fish (who was probably in both Sungchan and Shotaro’s hit list) wasn't that serious.

…Right?

You’re just friends, Anton convinced himself when the two of you exited the elevator and walked towards his door. You’re just friends, Anton repeated inside his head as he typed in his PIN on the keypad. You’re just friends, he reassured when he finally swung the door op—

“God, you’re so rich,” you muttered the moment you entered his condo, and all thoughts of denial Anton had repeating in his mind suddenly came running out the window as he watched you remove your shoes at the front. “You have all this space to yourself?”

“My mom visits sometimes,” he squeaks out pathetically.

You looked back at him, a bemused smile on your face and—oh, who was Anton kidding? You’re way prettier in real life compared to the pictures he saw on Sohee’s Facebook post, and whether that was a good thing for his mental health or not—well, he didn’t want to find out anymore.

Wrongly assuming you’d head straight towards his fish tank, Anton found himself trailing after you as you started loitering by the living room. “Are these your parents?” you asked, signaling towards the multitude of frames on top of the wooden furniture. “You have a brother? He looks just like you.”

“Oh, yeah,” Anton affirmed, moving to point at the photos. “That’s my mom, my dad, and my younger brother. Over there are my grandparents.”

You whistled. “Wow, your mom’s really pretty,” you noted with a laugh, “she looks like she could be famous, or something.”

“Uh, she was an actress, actually.”

Your smile dropped as quickly as it appeared. Anton had to stifle back a snort.

“...For real?” you asked, carefully looking back at the picture and then towards him. He slowly nodded. “What? Don’t tell me your dad’s famous too? Your grandma? Your childhood dog? The mailman who steals your Amazon deliveries?”

His silence practically confirmed it, and you squawked in response. (Though you weren’t too sure about the mailman. The grandma and the dog? Sure, since even his fish was famous.)

“My dad’s a music producer,” Anton elaborated, moving away from you to head towards the corner where his fish, the supposed star of the day, resided at. “He’s over in Korea, though, so I don’t see him as often anymore.”

You followed after him, unsure of where else to go. “Your mom was an actress, and your dad’s some hot-shot music producer… and you decided to become a Let’s Play streamer?” you wondered to yourself, incredulous. Anton looked back at you indignantly, but you merely shrugged back at him. “I’m just saying, dude. You could be, like, I don’t know, a K-pop idol or something with those connections. Oh! You could be in NCT—what do you think of bright, green hair on those luscious locks of yours?”

Anton gave you a scalding side-eye.

“...Nah,” he eventually said with a shake of his head, a wistful grin on his face. “It’s a little late for that.”

You were about to say something else, something probably much more snarky to the absolute nonsense Anton responded to your suggestion with, but your words quickly died down inside your throat the moment a familiar shape of glass appeared in your vision. Anton promptly stepped aside to let you have your moment with his pet, unable to fight off the smile rising on his face as you approached the tank with wide, astonished eyes.

“Stonerland,” you breathed out quite dramatically, finally witnessing the white betta fish swim inside his lonesome tank. “You’re real.”

You inched closer towards the glass, but remained mindful not to touch it per Leehan’s wise teachings. The light from inside reflected onto your eyes, splashes of green and white appearing in them. It would’ve been off putting to anyone else who was observing you, the you who was unblinking as you stared at the oblivious animal, but you didn’t seem to care. You were completely and utterly entranced, lost in your own little world.

“...You’re so pretty,” you murmured, following Stonerland’s every move.

Your gaze slowly moved towards him.

“Right, Anton?” you asked, fully expecting him to be looking at the fish as well.

Instead, you were met with him already staring back at you, like those romance K-Dramas Eunseok always made him watch with their cliché fireworks scenes that always had Anton’s eyes rolling whenever it inevitably came up. They were all just copies of one another anyway—Han River, fireworks, and the main couple having the space all to themselves when it really should have been packed to the brim with other couples because it was South Korea.; he really could have cared less about such things (even if Eunseok swore to him that they were “peak”).

“Yeah,” he breathed out absentmindedly.

And because Anton always disliked watching those scenes, the thought of him doing the same thing, albeit at a different situation but with the same principle regardless, never crossed his mind.

But now, inside his place—the Han River—and watching his fish—the fireworks—with only the two of you beside each other, Anton didn’t even have the chance to roll his eyes because he was too busy staring at you, like some cliché male lead in some cliché romance K-Drama.

“Oh,” you said.

And then Anton blinked, snapping himself out of his reverie. “What?” he sputtered out, looking away from you and towards Stonerland, before inevitably bringing his gaze towards you again, only to shy away when you caught him in the act all over again. He coughed out, “What were you saying? Sorry, I was… I was thinking about something else.”

“Like what?” your head tilted to the side.

“Like,” Anton nervously began, licking his lips as he thought of something to respond with only to come up with blanks. “Like, uh—”

His eyes landed on Stonerland.

“—I was just thinking of ways that I could fortify his tank so evil, malicious forces won’t get to him…?” he cringed as the words just kept tumbling out of his mouth. “Because I’m low-key scared that if I invite the boys over, Sungchan and Shotaro will find a way to murder my fish when I’m not looking. Or something like that. I don’t know—I’m just getting bad vibes from them, you know? I might just be paranoid, though.”

Anton immediately found himself desperately avoiding your gaze, feeling the tips of his ears turn red at how stupid he must have sounded just now.

“No, I get it,” you said, which catched his attention. “Those two are definitely up to no good, since you practically memorialized the empire they worked so hard to destroy in the form of a fish. A small, helpless fish up against two grown men… yeah, maybe just don’t invite them over.”

Anton looked at you hopefully, only to be immediately let down when you continued.

“To be honest, if Stonerland was your pet fish in Minecraft, I’d probably blow it up when you aren’t looking too. Redstone engineering and all, it’d look like a whole fireworks show,” you added bluntly, watching the tank with blank eyes. After a second, however, you quickly look back at him with an easygoing smile, cheerfully saying, “Good thing Stonerland’s a real fish, right? So cute! Betta fishes are the best…” you sighed wistfully.

You didn’t bother commenting on the look of absolute horror on Anton’s face, too busy cooing at his fish as if you had not just threatened to blow it up in another life.

He looked at Stonerland—poor and unassuming Stonerland, oblivious to the evils surrounding him and his owner. He wasn’t even safe from the girl who kept squealing over him, simply because of his given name. Poor, poor Stonerland indeed. Anton briefly considered changing the unfortunate fish’s name, maybe install some galvanized steel beams around his tank and some eco-friendly wood veneers for extra protection just in the slightest case anyone would dare to think of hurting his precious betta fish, but he was definitely putting up a sign that had Sungchan and Shotaro’s names crossed off on his front door.

He slowly turned to you, meekly saying, “Please don’t hurt him.”

You looked at him, absolutely flabbergasted. “Stonerland’s a guy?”

“Yeah?” Anton’s eyebrows furrowed. “...You didn’t know?”

“What!” you gaped. “But the fins…! It’s so pretty and long!”

“Male betta fishes have longer fins, and they’re much leaner,” Anton explained, pointing at Stonerland’s white, flowy fins. “Shouldn’t you know this? Isn’t that Leehan guy you’re friends with a fish-expert or whatever?”

You pouted. “Well, he is, but he doesn’t own any bettas… so I don't know if he knows anything about them.”

“Hm, so Leehan doesn’t know shit about bettas, the coolest fish ever. I see.”

He felt pride quickly bubble inside his chest when you looked at him expectantly. “Right, yeah! Bettas are so cool! And you know so much about them; that’s so cool!”

“Nah,” he pretended to be humble, scratching the nape of his neck. “I just did my research.”

“You should buy a black one,” you continued enthusiastically, “so they can swim together! Isn’t that cute?”

Anton deadpanned. “Uh, they’ll probably fight to death if that happens…”

“Oh, so like SatoSugu,” you said blandly.

Yeah, whatever that means, Anton thought.

The both of you stayed there for a little while more, with most of it spent on useless chatter and you taking hundreds of photos of his fish, so much so that Anton worried whether your phone’s storage was about to reach its limit, however you didn’t seem to care. He honestly didn’t know what exactly was so enamoring about the fish—it was just some small living creature that came with flowy fins and a penchant for loneliness, and all it would do is swim and eat and live off of Anton’s paycheck, but he supposed that if you enjoyed looking at it so much, then he was fine with keeping it. Heck, he’d be fine with protecting it against Sungchan and Shotaro, if it meant that it would keep you happy to see it was still alive.

Which is, again, concerning. Anton never meant for any of this to happen—he never meant for him to wake up on a random Friday and decide that he was gonna let you into his house when you were, at the core of this situation, just some girl he had just coincidentally met online—and at a kids’ game of all places.

But between the calls you’ve shared, the jokes, the countless hours you’ve spent together playing games, and the private DMs you’ve shared where no one else could interrupt him teasing subtweets or obsessive ramblings from either shippers or haters, then Anton figured that getting Stonerland was worth all the trouble and money (and Wonbin’s constant whining at the bus) just to see you smiling towards the tank.

…So, yeah, maybe he was jealous of you sitting all alone in another guy’s house, watching another guy’s fish, planning on using the money you earned to purchase useless micro-transactions he could easily buy for you, and maybe accidentally blurting out a sentence that could potentially ruin his career was all the more worth it when you are literally standing right next to him now.

Anton never thought that everything would eventually lead up to this moment, and he might not be extremely smitten with you right now the way those male leads in K-Dramas would be, at least he doesn’t think so, but what he knows is that there was already a tiny voice inside his head constantly saying that, eventually, at a moment when he least expects it, it will happen.

“If you want, I can buy you a black betta fish,” he started, leaning his chin on his palm, “and then we’d have matching fishes. Just like SatoSugu, right?”

You glanced back at him, a little bit shocked. But then your eyes twinkled, and a laugh escaped from your lips. Anton found himself smiling back.

“No way,” you said, “you don’t have to do all that. You already bought me some Robux.”

“It was literally just twenty dolla—”

You cut him off. “Plus, one of them dies anyway," you said grimly, your expression darkening. "Actually, they both die."

That quickly shut him up.

You continued with a snap of your fingers. “You know what, I’ll just tell you their whole lore—no, wait, we should just watch Jujutsu Kaisen instead! Do you have a Netflix account? Let’s binge the first season.”

Seemingly without a choice, Anton promptly handed you the remote to his TV, staring blankly ahead while he followed you towards his couch.

It seemed that it was also safe to say that your online personality translated perfectly into real life. For better or for worse.

previous | masterlist | next

SYNOPSIS. not everyone is good at playing obby’s on roblox, and you’re no exception to this rule: after a particularly nasty encounter with another player on roblox’s altitorture, you log into twitter only to find out that the very same player who publicly dunked on your gaming skills turns out to be anton lee, a well-known streamer who also happens to be a friend of a friend. fed up with his fans bombarding your dms with teasing remarks or jealous musings, you decide to end it once and for all by appearing on his next stream with a promise to get through an obby successfully. however, you realize that the only thing you’ll be successful at is falling for anton lee instead.

AUTHOR'S NOTE. wooo first written chapter! what do you guys think so far??? i really like putting the pov on anyone else BUT y/n, it makes her more mysterious HAHA

TAGLIST. (closed) @shoberi @gisellessgf @serafilms @palchokitty @seunghancore @nujeskz @hisrkive e @alwayswook @emohoon @milktea-academia @kyusqult @dolloie @slutforjeno @meowbini @yizhuobberi @fae-renjun @kcharlyy @whoisgwyn @saranghoeforanton @au-ghosttype @gyehyeonist t @dodot04lover @outrologist @papichulomacy @odxrilove @maleegayuh @ilovejungwonandhaechan @dalsosapple @starwonb1n @tojis-luver r @slayhaechan @lakoya @he6rtshaker @rikianton @brachioswrld @woonagi-lemon @ffixtionista @endtostartbreathin @ki3ntot t @bidibaabidiboo @totheseok @astrae4 @hanbinniesmango o @daegale @regrool @sunflowerbebe07 @taroddori @miyawwn @snowyseungs @p-d1ddy

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luveline · 1 year

Note

hi baby if you feel up for it i'd love to request some fluffy fluff with sirius. maybe he's usually so reserved and stoic (because, cmon) and they're out with his friends and they're all making fun of him for being so lovey and doting on r

love u sm!

love you!! ♡ fem, 1k

"This is really lovely," Sirius says, your face turned to the light in his hand. "It's bright without looking out of place. Blue is your colour."

"Thanks, bug," you murmur back, holding still as he cleans the smudged mascara from your lower lash line.

"Every colour is your colour," he amends. "It goes nice with your top."

You rub your lips together slowly, sticky with gloss. His noticing makes all your make up efforts worth it.

Sirius wipes his thumb into the tissue you'd given him and tucks it away, stroking your cheek one last time with his other hand before stealing yours to twine your fingers. Your friends have carried on into the pub, but it doesn't take long to catch them. Remus was kind enough to wait at the entrance, eyebrows raised.

"What?" Sirius asks.

"Nothing." It's clearly something. "At all."

You figure it's between them and skirt past Remus with a smile, eager to hide away in the warm wooded walls of The Firestroke. The boys filter in behind you, following you through the entryway and past the bar to the table James has commandeered with Emmeline.

He's fiddling with her hair, readjusting a bobby pin, another held between his lips. "It looks nice, Emme, you should have it out of your face more often."

"Marl says that all the time. Hey!" She beams at you. "Come and sit by me."

You laugh happily and slide onto the seat next to her. You, Emme, and James sit on the booth side while Sirius and Remus set themselves down opposite. A waitress arrives and Sirius doesn't wait for the others, ordering a round of drinks for the entire group, wherever they may be. They'll filter in soon enough.

"And extra cherries for my girl, please," Sirius says, nodding to you as he does. "Thanks."

"Ooh, for his girl," James croons.

"Remember when he'd order stuff for me like that?" Remus asks.

Sirius rolls his eyes, offering his hands to you from across the table. Honestly, you're slightly surprised at his behaviour today, but you won't look a gift horse in the mouth. You lay your hands in his obligingly and relax as he begins to draw shapes into the fronts of your fingers, tiny stroking lines that feel ridiculously good, even under the eyes of your friends. "He's lying. I'd purposefully get his food wrong when we were teenagers so he'd have to go up to the counter and correct it."

"Like exposure therapy I never signed up for," Remus sighs. "It worked, too."

Sirius laughs. He's handsome to begin with, the last burst of a tan from summer's end on his skin, his hair dark and lush in the shimmering light, and when he laughs it's a tenfold effect, the grey of his eyes suddenly mesmerising, the wicked curve of his smile softened into a sweeter thing that begs to be kissed, or admired at the very least. You let him keep one hand but turn the other inward to give him similar treatment, rubbing your fingertips up and down his palm in a ticklish wave.

"Do that to me, mate, there's a good lad," James says, offering his hand. Emmeline bats it away.

"Awfully jealous today, aren't they?" Sirius asks you, ignoring their teasing to curl your fingers in and cover them.

"I…" You're not sure what to say. Does he not realise how sweet he's being? Publicly? He's not usually this open.

"You okay?"

"Fine, just…" Words fail you twice. You cringe at your lack of explanation, but Sirius doesn't falter in his nice touches. It shouldn't shock you when he slides his chair tight against the table and pulls your hands ever closer, his top lip scratchy with hair as he leans down to kiss your knuckles. "Siri."

"Yes, darling?"

"Jesus," Marl says, announcing her presence with a faked gag. "What's your problem, Black?"

"I'm deeply in love, McKinnon. Not that you'd know what that feels like."

You melt in your chair as he kisses a short path to your wrist. You could write Marlene a ten thousand word essay on love if she needed it, that's how adored he's got you feeling.

"Absolutely vile."

"So sweet!" Mary denies, plopping herself down in the chair beside Sirius', all pink tulle and flowery smells. Any other day you'd be jealous of her in a good-natured but undeniably insecure manner, terrified that Sirius was gonna turn to her and see her in all her dewy beauty, but he doesn't so much as look up, your hands now rubbed against his cheek.

"He's had a bit of catnip or something," Remus says.

"It's the eyeshadow," you try to explain.

Sirius lifts his head severely. "It looks perfect, but it's definitely not the eyeshadow. I'd feel just as mad about you if you were covered in soot."

"Good to know," you say breathlessly.

"Oh, so you're feeling pathetic today?" Marl asks.

Sirius sighs as though he's been greatly inconvenienced and sits up properly, casting his gaze around the group for a lick of sense between them, if his slack eyebrows are anything to go off of. "You're all wrong. I'm this pathetic for her every day of the week."

"Then what's with the PDA?" James asks incredulously.

"Mate, first of all, look at her. And if you must know, it's our anniversary."

You flinch, your gaze jumping to his. The group erupts with well wishes and 'why didn't you say so's, and James slaps his card on the table, insisting that the round is on him to celebrate. Your heart races as you make the calculations in your head, calming as you realise that nothing falls on today's date, not a half month nor a first date.

"Sirius?" you ask while everyone's distracted.

He takes your hand again and begins kissing your knuckles once more. "I'm lying," he says, as you'd figured, scratching your fingers with his stubble. "That's what he gets for prying… You really do look lovely tonight."

You nearly swallow your tongue. "Thank you. You look lovely, too."

He smiles, twining your fingers together to rest his face against the back of your hand. "Thanks, angel."

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius x reader fluff #sirius black imagine #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fic #marauders era #marauders #sirius black drabble #sirius black scenario #sirius black oneshot #the marauders #sirius orion black

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thisonehere · 15 days

Text

Caught

Summary: Bi-Han catches you spying on him bathing

A/n: alright, here you have it, the winner of my poll and might I say...you all are some pervs lol

This is a little late so I'm sorry for that.

Tags: NSFW, smut, poll winner

C/w: Reader being a perv, rough sex, overstimulation, Bi-Han gets sadistic

I-It wasn't supposed to be like this, you promise, you're not a pervert. You're not! Honest! Well, until today, that is.

You had gone into the Grandmaster's personal chambers to deliver a secretive intel sent by Sektor and entrusted to you to deliver it to Bi-Han. After the guards had let you, you found the room completely empty. You find it odd, you were told that he would be in here at this hour. "Grandmaster!" You call, looking this way and that for him. The room was empty, the grandmaster's large figure was nowhere in the room. So you did the best decision, you decided to snoop around.

For a grumpy and gruff man, the grandmaster sure had quite good taste in decoration. Porcelain vases, intricate wood carvings, rich fabrics everywhere, and so many other nice things. No doubt so many of these things were passed down from Bi-Han's father and his father and so on. So much of these things are old and filled with history. Cool. Anyway, you climb into his bed and start smelling his sheets. They smell nice...really nice. Just like how you often fantasized he might smell like if you ever got close enough.

As you embrace the scent, your ear picks something up, the sound of water running in the distance, behind a door. You climb off his bed and follow the sound and open the door. You slowly and carefully push the door back, it makes a slight creaking sound as you do. You pear inside and a gust of warm steam greeted your face. At that moment you realize that this is a bathhouse. Unlike the regular bathhouse that you shared with your fellow Lin Kuei, this was a private one for just the Grandmaster. Without much thought, you wonder inside.

You try to admire the place butt steam flows through the air making it almost impossible to see. But you manage to see one thing in the near distance, a shadowy figure just beyond a curtain. You take a few steps and part the curtains to get a better look, and you have to physically cover your mouth as you make out what it is. Bi-Han, lounging in a giant tub. Your heart skips a beat at the sight of the naked grandmaster. His eyes closed, a subtle smile on his face, his hair undone and cascading down his back in a wet mass, his bare and muscular body glistening from all the steam. It was a sight to behold. You stare at your grandmaster through the curtain, your mouth agape and your eyes enraptured.

Bi-Han looks so...so peaceful, happy even. Something you have never been used to, until now, the grumpy asshole who always wore a stern frown in his face is what you knew the grandmaster for. But you couldn't lie, something about always enchanted you, here, those features were on full display for you. You felt yourself melt as you admired your grandmaster, so handsome, so magnificent was he to behold that you felt like you could watch him for hours.

Without warning, Bi-Han stood up in his bath causing you to cover your mouth and stifle a squeak of surprise. Bi-Han took water from the bath rub himself with it. Your eyes stretched ten inches wide as Bi-Han's girthy rod flopped and his ass jiggled as he moved. You felt your mouth water at the sight of it. You felt like you were going to faint, so you closed the curtain for just a second to catch your breath. This was all too much, it was wrong too. Spying on your grandmaster as he bathes, spying on anyone as they bath, is a horrible thing.

But think about his smile, his body, everything about it, and you are surprised to find your body shiver. It is in your best interest to just leave and repent to any god that would listen. But it wouldn't hurt to just have one more peak, you think as you turn back to the curtain to get one last look before you left.

But as you part the curtain, Bi-Han is gone.

All you can do is stare in confusion at his sudden disappearance. Where could he have gone? Maybe he left, but where? How could he leave that quickly with you even hearing it? You sigh as you let the curtain close, perhaps this is for the best. You should be thankful that Bi-Han didn't walk out and find you being a pervert. You shiver this time in fear at what he would to you as punishment. Knowing him, it would have something brutal, and ensures that you suffer unimaginable ways. You're lucky indeed that he didn't catch you, even luckier that you had a chance to see him like this.

You smile warmly to yourself as you turn to leave. And there is Bi-Han standing behind you. You almost gasp, but that's interrupted as Bi-Han grabs you by the throat and suspends you off the ground with terrifying ease. Wet hair covered his furious face as water dropped down his body. "Grandmaster," you try to force out. "P-please, I can explain-ack!" Bi-Han's grip is so tight that you already feel yourself begin to lose consciousness. "You spied on me as I bath like a repulsive perversion! What could you possibly have to say for yourself!?" He barked, his once peaceful face now contorted into a disgusted sneer.

Bi-Han held you there for quite a few seconds, you just dangled there as you slowly began to lose consciousness. With a sigh, Bi-Han clears his grip on you, letting you plop to the ground with a harsh thud. You coughed and gagged as you tried to catch your breath. Your heart was racing so fast and your vision was blurred slightly. You stared up at Bi-Han who looked down at you like you were so nothing but something disgusting at the bottom of his shoe. You looked away from him in shame as you continued to catch your breath, trying to think of a way to get out of this. Something, anything, to get you out of here and avoiding your grandmaster's wrath.

But Bi-Han acts before you. After staring at you for some time, Bi-Han's expression changed, as if he just had an idea of what he would do to you. This terrified you. "Take off your clothes...and join me." Bi-Han ordered as he marched back into the tub, much to your shock. "What?" You asked so confused. "I don't understand, I-"

"Shut your disgusting mouth and obey your grandmaster!" He snapped at you, scaring you and causing you quickly throwing off your clothes to the point that you accidentally tore it slightly. In no time, you were sitting in the steaming bath tub with Bi-Han. His eyes were once again closed as he lounged back in the tub, the peaceful and almost happy look was back into his face. You just stared at him in fear, why was he so calm again? What was he about to do to you? You felt your heart beat against your chest as you stared at him in fear.

As the minutes passed it all felt like torture for you. What was he about to do to you? Why did he have you undress and bathe with him? Oh god, was he about to do something horrid to you? You agonize as you begin to fantasize about all the ways he might punish you. Maybe he was going to drown you here, what if he was going to the water board you? Though the water was warm, you shivered in fear. "You know, Y/n. I'm not surprised by this... I've noticed the way you looked at me." Bi-Han finally said, at this point you were so at the edge of your seat that even the sound of his voice scared you. "I won't deny it, I find something about you... cute, so perhaps I'll let you live." At this, you let out a sigh of relief. Perhaps things won't be so bad after all. "But not unpunished."

...

Maybe you spoke too soon.

You open your mouth to ask what he meant by that, Bi-Han stands up and wades through the water until he's standing over you, his cock in your face. You stare at it with an agape mouth. It's much bigger up close, as well as erect, ready and willing. Bi-Han stares down with a stern look, but there was sadistic glint in his eyes. "What are you staring at? Suck it."

---

Hours pass and Bi-Han spends them richly by making you do every last depraved thought that pops into his head. He fucks in every hole that you can offer him. He bites you, he slaps you, he even strangles you at some point...many points actually. He is merciless, your penance for spying on him. He has faced fucked you so many times that your sure that it'll take a long time to get the taste of his dick and his cum out of your mouth. Your body is dripping with his fluids as well as decorated with bruises, you could still feel his teeth marks on your neck and the imprint of his hand on your face and ass. He is so violent that you begin to cry, both from the pain and the pleasure that this pain caused, he laughs as your tears fall.

Right now? Bi-Han has you bent over the tub, his hand firmly grip at your hair, violently tugging at it as he slams into your poor abused hole. "Grandmaster!" You scream at the top of your lungs, your screams just encourage you to go faster, harder, making things worse and good for you. Both sweat and cum drips down your legs, hell, you could barely even feel your legs as he grinded into you. You feel your climax coming, no doubt his his close to, please let it be close. You don't know how much longer you can do this, you can feel your body slowly get number and number the more he fucks you. "Grandmaster, I-I going to." But Bi-Han interrupts you by quickly pulling out and shoving you to the floor. It all happens so fast that you don't have a second to react. Who knew the Grandmaster was so violent during sex?

He kneels beside, rubbing his cock, his other reaching down and start fondling your swollen hole. "Have you learned your lesson, Y/n?" You fearfully nod as you moan at his touch. You feel your entire body shiver as you climax. "Good " Bi-Han says with a growl, he begins rubbing hiscock faster. He grits his teeth as he finally cums, his hot seed explodes all over your face almost blinding you. "Clean me up, won't you dear?" At his urging, you begin to lick the cum off his dick, the bittersweet taste is something you think you'll never forget after today. "Good." He purred.

Satisfied, Bi-Han rose to his feet, grabbed a towel, and walked away as if nothing happened. Leaving you to catch your breath and regain your bearings. You're so worn out, so tired, you wondered if you could just crawl into Bi-Han's. He fucked you sore, the least he could do was let you sleep in his bed.

"Y/n," Bi-Han calls to you just before he leaves the room. "Yes, grandmaster?" You anxiously answered. "Next time, wear something nicer....easier to take off." He instructs calmly, but you felt you heart skip a beat again. "N-next time?" He turns to you and nods, a scary grin on his face. "Yes, your penance for this little incident. But don't you worry, I'll be gentle next time...perhaps." and with that he leaves you alone to collect your thoughts.

#mk1 #mortal kombat #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat 1 #mk fanfic #mk x reader #mk x y/n #bi han #bi han sub zero #bi han x reader #no peeking #poll winner

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phoward89 · 3 months

Text

Masterlist

Dark!Coryo, Dark!Peacekeeper Coryo, Innocent!Reader, Delulu!Coryo, obsession, manipulation, toxic relationship, cussing, smut

Chapter 7:

“What is there to do around here, baby?” Coryo asked, since he didn't feel like going back to your house to deal with your family, as the two of you cuddled on the bench in the town square after finishing your breakfast.

Honestly, he didn't like your family. For a bunch of dirt poor miners, they sure do act like they're better than him. And that pisses him off.

“Not much.” You simply reply.

“Ah.” Coryo nods. “Well, is there something we can do to kill some time before we have to go back to your house?” Coriolanus has to stop himself from saying deathtrap shack instead of house. Ugh, the place you live in makes him shudder.

“There's a lake deep in the woods a couple hours hike from the Seam.” You tell him, earning a nod. With a smile, you carry on with, "There's a bunch of cabins scattered around it, left from the Pre-Panem days- I think.” Looking over at him, you ask, “Think we could go?”

“If you want to, I don't see why not.”

You omit the fact that sometimes the Covey goes there on Sundays.

And today's Sunday isn't it?

Hopefully you don't run into the Covey because you'd really like to spend a nice hot summer's day with Coryo at the lake.

Coriolanus hated the great outdoors and he hated the heat. Why was it so damn muggy in 12? It wasn't so hot back in the Capitol. Was 12 truly hell, is that why it's so hot?

The platinum blonde’s sweating like a pig, white T-shirt soaked with sweat, as he walks thru the woods with you, side by side. At least your carefree and bright demeanor brings a smile to his face. Even tho he's about to keel over from heat stroke at any moment, at least you're happy. As long as you're happy, that's all that matters to him.

“You'll get used to the summers here.” You assure your boyfriend with a smile while playfully tapping his shoulder with your boots.

You both took your shoes off; opting to walk barefoot what seems like endless miles ago. You convinced Coryo that the long hike would be easier on his feet if he did it barefoot. You also told him that you always hiked barefoot in the woods while going to the lake. That it was much easier on the soles of your feet.

“I don't think I'll ever get used to this heat, baby.” Sweat rolled down Coryo's neck as he slapped a mosquito on the side of his neck. “Or the damn bugs.”

“Yea, the skeeters are bad here.”

“Little bloodsuckers won't leave me alone.” Your boyfriend grumbled, smacking another bug off of his skin.

“Old saying says that skeeters are attracted to sweet blood.” You remember being told that as a little girl, before the war. You were about 4, you think. The memory’s hazy, but you think your dad told you that. But you can't remember what he looked like or anything truly about him to save your life.

“Sweet blood? Oh, darling, that's silly.” Coryo chuckles. Dripping an arm over your shoulders, he presses a kiss to your temple and tells you, “Come on, show me to this lake of yours.”

Coriolanus was surprised at how beautiful the lake looked as the thick woods gave way to a clearing where crystal blue water, a dock, and scattered cabins could clearly be seen. It felt so serene, like a scene out of a Thomas Kinkade painting.

He never thought that something so breathtakingly beautiful could be found in the backwater District 12. But, yet again, he found you in the coal mining shithole, didn't he? Perhaps there are some rare hidden gems in 12.

“Come on, Coryo. Let's go swimming.” You tell your boyfriend, dragging him out of the woods, by a cabin, and over to the dock.

“Do you swim here often, darling?” Coriolanus asks as you come to a stop at where the grass meets the edge of the wooden dock.

“Yea, but not as much as I'd like to.” You answer while you and Coriolanus drop your boots on the ground.

Coryo just nods, quickly pulling off his t-shirt while you pull off your dress. He's slipping out of his denim jeans when you start running down the dock in your bra and panties. He'd rather you be naked, but he doesn't mind seeing you in your underwear. “Just can't wait for me, huh?” Your boyfriend asks, taking off in a run after you.

Giggling, you look over your shoulder as you run faster down the dock. A big smile breaks over both your face and Coryo's as he chases you towards the edge. It's a fun little game of cat and mouse. A game that you win by jumping into the water before the platinum peacekeeper can reach you.

Coryo lets out a genuinely joyful laugh at seeing you jump into the water, causing it to ripple and splash up. Seeing you happily swim in the water, looking up at him with a huge smile, made Coriolanus' heart beat a thousand miles a minute. He couldn't help, but to fall even more obsessively in love with you as he watches you lazily splash in the water, waiting for him to join you.

Coryo ran to the end of the long dock, only to cannonball into the water. Water splashed high up into the air as your boyfriend's body broke the water’s surface; entering the cool cerulean liquid. When his platinum buzzed head pops out of the water, he quickly blinks his icy eyes open and smiles wide when he sees you staring at him.

He swims over to you, only to take you in his arms and break the spell he seems to have over you. Coryo leans in, kissing you sweetly. He smiles into the kiss, causing you to do the same.

Breaking the kiss, Coryo pulls his head back slightly and grins. He begins swimming, leading you further away from the dock. His baritone’s nostalgic as he tells you, “The last time I went swimming was for my gym class at the Academy, back in the Capitol. It's nice to be doing it again and with you, baby.”

“Your school’s gym had a pool in it?” You ask in disbelief, swimming alongside Coryo.

“Yes,” Your boyfriend nods. “It's under the floor and the floor’s cranked open for use of the pool.” Coryo splashes some water at you while chuckling, “But it's getting an upgrade since Strabo Plinth, Sejanus' father, bribed the dean with a new gym to make sure that we both got our diplomas.”

“But why wouldn't you get your diplomas? You both had good grades, right?”

“We screwed with the games.” Coriolanus answers before splashing water in your face to distract you from thinking up anymore questions about his fall from grace. He told you enough about Lucy Gray and his cheating allegation yesterday; today's a new day he wants to enjoy with you.

As long as you're by his side he feels happier, powerful, and like he can do everything in the world.

After swimming for a while, you and Coryo ended up sitting on the dock together. The sun’s kissing your skin, drying it, as you and Coryo dangle your feet over the dock’s edge. Actually, your feet's dangling while his toes skim the water's surface.

You're sitting side by side, just looking at the crystal clear water, the treeline, and the scattered cabins from a time before Panem had exited.

“It's so beautiful here, baby.” Turning his head to look at you, he smiles, “Thank you for sharing this spot with me, it means a lot.”

“You're welcome.” You smile in return. “There's not many beautiful places in 12, but this lake and the meadow behind my street are some of the few ones you'll find.”

“Everything's beautiful in the Capitol.” Coriolanus says matter of factly. Wrapping an arm around your shoulders and bringing close to his side, he kisses your temple and promises, “I'm going to show you the beauty of the Capitol; all of my favorite places once we get the chance to go back.”

You want to believe Coriolanus, you really do, but you also don't want to give your hopes up. The probability that you and Coriolanus will be able to go to the Capitol is, in your opinion, slim to none. You don't want to burst your boyfriend's bubble tho. Not when he seems in such good spirits.

So, you just force out a weak smile. “That sounds like fun, Coryo.”

“Once I pass that exam and become an officer, things’ll start looking up for us.” Coriolanus says, his conviction as sure as stone. “With hard work I'll be able to move up high enough in the ranks to get us back to the Capitol.”

“What if it takes your entire 20 years of service to do that, Coryo?” You wonder as the birds fly around in the blue sky above.

“It won't take that long, my darling rose.” The platinum peacekeeper assures you with a charming smile.

“But what if it does?” You press, wanting to hear your boyfriend's response on the possibility of being stuck in a district for two decades without being able to visit his beloved Capitol despite becoming an officer.

“It won't, baby.” Coriolanus told you before explaining his confident answer with, “My father was a general; was the Commander here during the war. He was able to come and go between his post and the Capitol before he was a general, back when he was just a lower officer.”

Yes, you remember your brother making a remark about Coryo's father being General Crassus Snow. Perhaps your boyfriend has more of an insight on the inner workings of the peacekeepers then you thought he did?

Coryo rubs his thumb into your shoulder, since his hand’s resting on it. “So, I think they'll let me take a furlough to the Capitol with you once I become an officer.”

You don't say a word, just nod as the platinum blonde's words wash over you. You let them sink in, swim in your mind just like your body has swam in the cool water mere moments ago. Coriolanus’ words flood over you, in a way that causes you to understand that being with the Capitolite peacekeeper’s life changing.

“You'd really take me with you to the Capitol for your furlow, Officer Snow?” You asked, doe eyes hopeful as you and your boyfriend locked eyes.

“Of course, I'm taking you, Y/N.” Coryo assures you. His icy eyes roam over your form possessively, taking in every inch of your radiance as he utters in a proprietorial baritone, “You're my girl; I want to show you off to my family during furloughs.” Of course he did, he's so obsessed with you; thinks that he owns you and has to have his family know that. Pictures sent thru the mail can only show off your beauty that rivals that of sunshine and roses. Coriolanus wants Grandma'am and Tigris to meet you, so he can make sure they know that you're now apart of the Snow family; has him enchanted under a spell of love and vice versa.

“I hope your family's friendlier to me than mine is towards you.” You blurt out, watching the reeds around the lake dance slightly in the breeze.

Cattails are bending low and springing back up, over and over again around the water’s edge. “Grandma’am and Tigris will love you because I love you, plus l you're as bright as sunshine- they could never be hostile with you, baby.” Coryo assures you with a knowing glint in his eyes- eyes that are as crystal clear as the cerulean lake at.

It feels as if one minute your sitting on the dock with Coryo and the next he's leaning against a tree trunk, bark digging into his back, as he looks out at the serene scene that's the lake and the long, wooden dock in the middle of it, as your naked bodies grind onto each other. His face is buried in your tits as he kisses, licks, and bites them while bucking his hips up; making your mewl breathily as his long, thick cock hits your cervix with every bouncing movement you make on top of him.

“That’a girl, baby. You're doing so good riding my cock.” Coriolanus grits thru clenched teeth, fighting the urge to flip you onto your back and piledrive into you hard and fast to empty his cum heavy balls. But, he's a man of his word when it comes to you and he did promise you to let you control the pace; to take the lead on top. It's the least he could do after losing control and pushing you too hard last night.

“Coryo…” Your voice trembles as you feel a lightning bolt go up your spine and the feel of his cock hitting your sensitive nerves deep inside of your tight, wet cunt.

“You're close, baby.” Coryo observes between leaving sloppy, open mouth kisses on the top of your boobs. Pulling his head back to look into your eyes, he smirks while sinfully saying, “Can feel it by how your pretty cunt's clenching around my cock, sucking it in with a velvety vice grip.”

“So close, Coryo.” You agree, feeling the knot tightening in your stomach, as you dig your nails into his shoulders- using them as leverage to go up and down faster on his dick.

Coryo wants nothing more then to roughly grab and spank your ass as you quickly bounce up and down on his lap, but he knows that you aren't ready for that yet. It's only your second time fucking and after last night- well…let's just say that he'd rather you think he's a gentle lover for a wee bit longer before he shows his true colors.

Because when he shows his true colors it'll be too late for you to leave him- if you dared. You'd be too much in love with him, too entwined with his soul to ever leave.

So, Coryo opts to bring the pad of his calloused thumb to your clit to help you get off faster instead. He rubs your swollen pearl hard and fast, causing your hips to snap quicker and quicker until you're a babbling mess- crying out his name as you cum with a harsh gush around his cock. Your spasming cunt's milking him dry and before he can control himself, Coryo holds your hips and bucks up into you a couple of times before cumming with a groan; your name on the tip of his tongue.

You go to get off of his lap, but Coryo holds you still by firmly digging his fingers into your hip bones. “Just let me stay inside you for a while, okay?” He asks, needing to feel your warmth around him. Just being connected, all snug and cozy, is a calming balm to the darkness that threatens to overthrow his heart.

“Okay.” You softly smile, resting your head on his shoulder. Your fingers trace patterns over his dog tags as his chest rises and falls beneath your touch.

Coryo’s gazing longingly, lovingly, and obsessively at you while running his calloused fingertips up and down your spine. His touch his barely there, ghost like, but it makes goosebumps appear on your skin all the same.

So, in the late afternoon by the lakeside the girl made of sunshine and roses is caressed and worshiped by the boy made of moonlight and violets.

But Coriolanus was always drawn to roses, perhaps it's because his mother smelled like them once upon a time, but you being as friendly as the sun and as beautiful as a rose is what's damned you to be by his side for the rest of your life.

But you'll enjoy being tethered to him by a suffocating vine, a vine that’ll wrap all around you and keep you bound to his soul. At least the icy eyed young man plans to spoil you with all the luxuries the Capitol has and will condition you to turn your back on the scum you call neighbors and embrace the elite Capitolites he calls ‘friends’.

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @lady-harvey @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons @tempt-ress

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your-nanas-house · 10 months

Note

Smut with Thomas Shelby! Big, HEATED argument over Tommy's jealousy when she starts dating some other mate. They were friends for many years too.

If possible, face slapping and some violent, really hot smut 🔥

First time writing something like this. Wonderful idea, hope you will like it. 😌

"Someone like me"

◇ Pairing: Thomas Shelby x fem!Reader

◇ Warnings: smut, anger, violence, slapping, rough, kissing, friends to lovers

◇ Summary: Y/n's date, Jackson, doesn't want to see her again and she knows that her friend, Tommy, is involved in that decision.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. I used a Brummie translator for when Tommy speaks in the fic.

Soft tears threatened to spill from her eyes as she was clenching her fist while waiting for her friend, Tommy Shelby, to enter into his office— her back towards the wooden door.

She didn't had to wait long since Thomas bursted into his office, throwing open the door, causing Y/n to jump as he threw his hat on a nearby desk, his eyes wild like his hair— that sight made her nearly forget for a moment that she was angry as well with him and that she was there for a purpose.

Tommy's eyes burn with anger and he didn't even look at her after he entered. He just put his hands on his desk and leaned over, breathing heavily to calm himself down— Y/n didn't know what caused his friend to be so angry at that moment but she didn't care, for the very first time, she didn't care about what he was going through.

"What the fuck did you do, Thomas?" The young woman asked with hate in her voice— she never used this tone with Tommy during all their years of friendship, so it was just normal for the man to get a bit surprised and take a couple of seconds go reply, his face a mask with hidden emotions.

He spinned around and the force his eyes bored into hers made her breathing nearly stop, not that she wasn't afraid of him but seeing Thomas Shelby's anger directed towards her took her by surprise for a moment

"Cor blimey, settle yerself down, kid!" He growled, his icy eyes staring into hers.

"Excuse me?!" Y/n replied quickly, frowing at the audacity of her friend who stayed quiet as his glare grew sharper. She clearly felt a slight chill run down her spine as she looked into his eyes but she didn't backed away, she wanted answers from him.

So after gulping softly, Y/n spoke again with the same anger tone

"I asked what you did," she repeated in a hiss. "What did you say to Jackson?!".

Tommy's stare became darker as soon as Y/n pronuncer her date's name. His grip on the desk grew tighter, causing the wood to splinter slightly before he spoke again with the same anger as hers

"Wot makes yer think I've said something to Jackson, eh?"

"Because Polly told me you went to him! And he came to me today to tell me that he wanted to take a break, Thomas!" Y/n quickly replied, pushing his chest as hard as she could "What did you tell him?!" she repeated again.

Thomas stepped closer, as soon as her hand touched his chest, stopping until he was in front of your face, his eyes narrowed and deadly

"Do yer think every single decision this man makes revolves around your precious little self? Did it ever occur to you that maybe, just maybe— He doesn't want to be in a relationship with you?" he whispered in a low angry tone, his eyes scanning her face when her eyes narrowed and filled with tears due to the harsh words he just said

"He wanted to fuckin bed me the night before and now he doesn't even want to see me!" She nearly growled, revealing this particular that Tommy didn't know yet "I know you did something, Thomas Shelby".

By hearing her the anger in his eyes grew even more

"Yeah, sure, keep thinking it's all my fault, because you're just perfect and everyone wants you" his face was getting closer ans closer to hers and he was speaking so quietly she could barely hear him.

Her hands collided with his chest again as she pushed him for the second time that evening "Fuck you" she spat with anger.

Tommy stumbled a bit, clenching his teeth as his hands closed in fists. He took a few breaths and stepped closer to her again, now a clear fire in his eyes which matched hers; he didn't talk this time, letting her stare back with anger

"Fuckin hate you, Thomas" Y/n pushed him again, screaming the statement, gasping softly when he grabbed her arms and tightened his grip on them, holding her still

"Don't you ever push me again, yer hear??" He warned her, narrowing his eyes when she spoke again almost like if she was challenging him "Or what?! 'M not fuckin afraid of you, Shelby!" She spat in pure anger as she held back a whimper when she felt Tommy's grip around her arms tighten.

He pulled her as close as possible before speaking again, in a low whisper "Let me tell you something, I can do anything with you and there is nothing you can do about it, Y/n" he revealed, staring in her eyes not expecting the harsh slap that she gave him as a reply at his statement.

Tommy tightened and moved his grip around her wrists, as he pressed her against the nearest wall, holding her arms still over her head with one hand as he grabbed her chin with his other "Is that how you plan on behaving?" He asked in a mocking tone, holding her still as she started to fight him screaming in anger "Fucking hate you! WHAT DID YOU TELL JACKSON?!"

The name of the other man made Tommy's blood boil again

"Why do you care so much about Jackson?" he whispered so lowly, yet he still gripped her face tight

"You really want to know what I told him?" He asked his nose nearly touching hers.

Tommy remained silent for a moment, speaking just when she nodded replying him with a rude 'yes'

"I told Jackson he deserves someone much better than you" he started, his voice sounding even more painful in Y/n's ears "Lies—"

"It's not a lie, I know better than anyone that you're spoiled and reckless" he gripped her cheeks tighter "That's why you don't deserve someone good and kind like him but—" he paused to lean in as he spoke again "You do deserve someone tough and cruel..." he continued, his breath caressing her lips.

Y/n stopped slowly fighting him, her tearful eyes, looking at his face in pure confusion "What?" She whispered softly

He matched her whisper, making sure that it was so low only her could hear

"The kind of man—" he pushed her more against the wall, pausing another time, his breath heavy just like hers, his grip on your cheeks still tightly "— who will pin you down and show you your place".

The young woman's breath quickened as she heard his affirmation, her eyes scanning his face, not really knowing where to stare at, her mouth slightly open in disbelief.

His lips were now pressing hard her throat, his voice still only a whisper

"You deserve—"

A single tear run down her cheek as his hand left her cheek and went down her neck, lower to her waist; he moved one hand to the back of her head and pressed, another time, his lips against the skin of her throat, inhaling her scent before pulling her body closer to him with his other hand

"Someone like me" he finished the sentence, pressing his lips roughly against Y/n's.

She kissed back, slightly taken aback from the turning of the situation— she was clearly surprised but she could feel her blood boil inside of her as the anger crawled slowly back under her skin.

They foreheads were pressed together as soon as the kiss ended, Tommy was the first to speak in a breathless whisper, his lips still inches away from her

"I've been waiting for so long to get closer to you" As he spoke his lips moved closer to hers again, ready to steal another kiss

"Yeah?" She whispered, hiding her anger by brushing her lips against his slightly open ones, Tommy nodded chasing her lips

"I've been wanting you for months, but you were with Jackson" he grabbed her waist and pull her flat against his chest causing her anger to finally escape her small body (again).

"And you didn't think that maybe you could have told me earlier?!— Since I've been dating Jackson for two weeks, eh? You didn't thought to let me know your fuckin feelings instead of ruining things between me and another man, Thomas?!" Y/n pushed him harshly on the armchair, making him fall down in a sitting position, allowing her to tower over him.

Tommy didn't show a shred of emotion on his body as he spoke, his legs wide open to allow her to move closer

"Yeah, I wanted to but—" his breath hitches as Y/n pressed her knee against his clothed crotch "What if you didn't feel the same way, eh?...Plus, now you're available" he added, a teasing smirk appearing on his handsome face.

Y/n's anger didn't bother him at all, he found it almost funny now and definitely hot— so when she slapped his face another time, this time a bit harder than before he simply let his face follow the direction of her pretty hand not even flinching slightly as his cheek turned a soft red.

"Good, let it out. Let all your frustration out of you" Tommy smirked softly, a clear and low aroused tone in his voice.

He earned another slap before Y/n connected their lips in a hungry kiss after whispering harshly to shut the fuck up.

His lips met hers, he kisses her back with passion and lust as his hand gently grabbed her head, making her fall down on him and then on the cold floor.

His other hand stayed on her waist as he pull her closer, his legs wrapped around hers just like his arms were around her smaller body, nearly crushing her in the process.

The young woman hugged Tommy's neck, connecting their lips in a passionate rough kiss to distract him and switch the rolls by moving on top of him before harshly pressing him against the wall as soon as he got up.

Tommy gasped as her body pressed onto him, a low animalistic growl leaving his body "Don't you dare" he murmured against her cheek as his arms tighten around her, one hand moved to her back down to her ass while his lips went down to her neck.

With a fast swing, Tommy managed to pin her against the wall again, making her head hit the wooden surface not enough to hurt her but enough to take her by surprise.

Their lips crushed together again in a hungry kiss as they fought to remove all the layers that kept their bodies hidden.

A piece after another all the clothes found themselves on the floor just like Y/n who was on her kneels, her hair trapped in Thomas's grip which moved her almost like a puppet.

His thick erect cock slapped her cheek as Tommy moved it teasingly near her mouth a couple of time before finally trusting his whole lenght in it, making her gag not expecting the sudden action.

Y/n quickly tried to relax her throat as Tommy fucked her face with a quick pace, his groans filling the room till she noticed his lower abdomen tensing and his pace changing slightly.

She quickly slapped his pale thigh, freeing herself from his grip to push him down on the floor with her, her hands moved quickly on his chest to hold him down as she started fingering herself— ignoring completely the hungry gaze of her friend.

Tommy tried to move his hand to his cock but Y/n quickly slapped it away, letting him replace her own fingers with his as she grabbed his rock-hard cock to pump it a couple of time and collect the precum from his angry red tip— just to put it in her mouth as a little taste.

Not even a couple of minutes later Y/n slapped Tommy's hand away, pressing her soaked and warm pussy against his throbbing painful cock— mixing their juices together as she grinded roughly on him.

Her hands wandered on his chest, reaching his neck to choke him softly with one hand to let him slip inside of her impatient hole.

Tommy let her take control for a while, watching her with half closed eyes how she rode his cock before moving his chest up, making her be the one with her back on the floor— his rough hand grabbed her legs and moved them on his shoulders to allow him to reach a deeper angle as he now drilled inside of her.

Moans and silent screams kept leaving Y/n's mouth as Thomas started to torture her clit as well while hitting her cervix to make her come

"Yer fockin' like that, eh?" he growled in her ear as he kept breathing heavily, nibbling at her skin like an hungry animal

"'M gonna fockin' mark— yer little— cunt" Tommy added making Y/n scream his name as she climaxed, squirting for the very first time— allowing Tommy to increase his pace and thrusts deeper for the last time when he shoot his load inside of her pussy, filling her like he wanted before letting his body fall on top of hers, his face burried in her breasts as they catched their breaths.

"Love yer" Tommy murmured in almost a whisper, smiling slightly when Y/n replied a couples of seconds later "love you too, Tommy".

Taglist:

@gabile18 , @mrsfullbuster500 , @rex-ray , @elizamalfoyy, @eovjjj , @wife-of-magic-monkeys , @jeremiah-va1eska , @gothamchic16, @rabbiteggz , @dieg0brandos-wife , @rottenecstasy , @lazyexcuse , @teh-vampire-bunny , @lobotomy-lover , @slasher-smasher , @sleepycreativewriter , @mrkdvidal1989

#tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby #thomas shelby fic #thomas shelby x you #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby #peaky blinder fanfic #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy fic #cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut

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thepaperpanda · 1 year

Text

Under His Watchful Eye || Douma x fem!reader

Summary: you are found injured by worshippers of Douma after being attacked by a wild animal in the mountains. You're taken to his temple where you're cared for and nursed back to health under the watchful eye of his. As time passes, Douma becomes attached to you, but when you disobey his order one day, he becomes angry and decides to punish you accordingly

Warnings: smut with plot 🔞 & the reader asking far too many questions in the end 😀

Word count: 7792

Authors: Cass & Rouge

As you hiked through the mountain trails, the fresh air and beautiful scenery made you feel invigorated. However, that feeling quickly vanished when a wild animal attacked you out of nowhere. You tried to defend yourself, but the creature was too strong and vicious, leaving you badly injured and alone. You were almost certain you would die.

Just when you thought you couldn't go any further after attempting to getting back home, a group of strange individuals appeared before you. They were dressed in long, flowing robes and had a serene look on their faces.

You felt weak in your knees and fell down to the frozen ground, shaking uncontrollably all over your exhausted body.

"Are you okay?" A female voice asked.

You tried to speak, but your throat was dry. You managed to nod, and they helped you to your feet. You leaned on one of them as they guided you into an unknown direction. "You must come with us," one of them said softly, taking your arm.

"Poor thing, look at all those wounds," the other person added within sad tone.

You were too weak to resist as they led you deeper into the forest, eventually arriving at a small sanctuary.

As you walked, you couldn't help but notice the strange symbols painted on the rocks and trees around you. The people were quiet, and you could only hear the sound of the wind and the snow under their feet.

The last thing you remembered was the warmness of the interiors surrounding you. Then you lost your consciousness.

Douma was pleasantly surprised today by something he did not expect. A very attractive female human was brought into his shrine, which he would even call a miracle; he wouldn't have to take any efforts to find someone new for his pleasures. He had to keep the girl there.

"Don't look at me like that. You should know what I expect. Take care of this poor thing. Treat her wounds, give her a bath, and dress her. Let her rest," he instructed.

He smiled at two of his dear followers, who were not really sure what to do with the newcomer. He was growing curious about how the girl really looked without all the blood and dirt on her. Sadly, he would have to wait to satisfy his curiosity.

As time passed, you found yourself gradually regaining your strength. Though you still spent most of your days sleeping, you were surprised to find that a group of women were taking excellent care of you.

One day, as you slowly opened your eyes, you noticed a woman sitting beside you. "Oh, you're awake!" She exclaimed with a smile.

You rubbed your eyes and sat up a little, taking in your surroundings. The room was cozy and filled with dim light of candles. "Where am I?"

"You're in our sanctuary, in our lord's place," the woman replied. "My name is Aka, and I'm one of those who found you in the woods. You were very ill and injured, and we've been taking care of you for the past few weeks."

You felt a wave of gratitude wash over you, as well as shock when you realized how much time had passed. "You said weeks?" You inquired, your voice barely above a whisper. "Oh, my.... Thank you for everything."

As the days passed, you continued to regain your strength. You were amazed at the kindness and compassion of these strangers who had taken you in and nursed you back to health. And as you looked around at the warm and welcoming home they had created, you knew that you were in good hands. At least that was the impression you'd received.

Meantime, Douma made sure to take care of you by sending someone to fetch something nice for you, and finally, he had a chance to see you in your full glory - free of any life-threatening illness, clean, and dressed in fine clothes.

He personally couldn't wait to meet you and learn who you were. There were so many things he could do with and to you! It made him so excited that a shiver ran down his spine.

As Douma walked into the room that served you as your chamber, he hummed melodically, "My, my, my! Why did no one tell me that you are awake? I would have come sooner to see you."

However, he stopped when he saw your surprised expression and turned to face the other woman standing near the door, "Oh, Aka, my dear. Haven't you told her everything yet?"

Aka, one of your trusted followers, approached the tall man with a heavy heart. She informed him that she had not been able to tell you everything that she had wanted to, and she was deeply sorry for letting him down.

You bowed your head to the man after softening your kimono, overwhelmed with gratitude for the kindness he had shown you. "Thank you so much, sir," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you for taking care of me," you added with your head still bowed, "but I will never forget the hospitality you have offered me. I am forever in your debt."

He had to admit that you were a pretty one. You must have been tasty, but on the other hand, it would be a shame to simply consume you. Perhaps he could keep you around as a pet? He had tried it before, but it didn't work out as he had wanted. Maybe if you behaved, who knows?

With a smile, he said, "Oh, no need to thank me, sweetheart! How could I say no to someone in need? I am happy to finally see you in good shape. What's your name, dear?"

You dared to raise your head a little to take a closer look at him.

He stood before you with an imposing presence. He was a tall and muscular young man with a noticeably pale complexion, and his long and pointed nails seemed stained with a pale blue color. His hair was either silver or a pale golden blond, parted to the left, with shorter strands flaring out to either side of his face and a longer spiral drape down his back. His eyes were incredibly rare and beautiful, appearing to be made up of an array of rainbow pastel tones that faded into one another as they circled his irises. You caught yourself staring in his eyes a little longer than you were supposed to, so you instantly bowed your head once more, trying to pay proper respect to him. "My name's Y/N, sir. If not you and your people, I'd be long dead, eaten by wild animals or maybe even demons themselves."

If only you knew! Douma couldn't help but giggle softly at the idea of how oblivious you were. It was adorable!

"Well, then I guess you are the lucky one. Do you have any family or a home?"

You hesitated for a moment before admitting, "It's just that I don't have a family or a home. Sometimes it feels like something's missing."

He quickly walked up to you and cupped your cheeks, rubbing your soft, warm skin with his slender, cold thumbs. "Well, well, Y/N, not only were you saved, but you have also found a new home. You can stay here, and I will gladly take care of you."

You were shocked by how cold his hands were. You could feel the icy chill radiating from his fingers as they pressed against your skin. The sudden coldness caught you off guard, and you couldn't help but shiver at the sensation. You had never felt hands that cold before, and it left you momentarily speechless. Despite the coldness, however, his touch was gentle, and you could sense the kindness in his eyes as he spoke to you. You forced yourself to focus on his words, trying to ignore the frigid sensation spreading through your cheeks.

You were shocked by the man's kindness and hospitality he and his people had shown you.

He had taken you in when you were lost, hurt and alone, and had even offered to help you still. You couldn't believe that someone who was a stranger to you could be so generous. "Thank you so much," you said, your voice filled with gratitude. "I don't know how to repay you for your kindness, sir."

"You don't need to thank me, sweetheart. I only hope that dear Aka will explain everything you need to know," he said, looking at the other woman significantly. "Now, rest some more and make sure you eat well. I will come back later to have a private conversation with you."

"Sir," you whispered hesitantly, barely moving your lips. "Can I at least have your name?"

"It's Douma," he said with a smile. "If you listen carefully to what Aka says, my dear Y/N, you will know everything."

As you and Aka were speaking together after Douma had left the chamber, she began to describe him to you. "He is a wise man," Aka said, her voice soft with reminiscence. "He has a way of seeing the world that few others could match. When he speaks, it is as if the entire room fell silent, hanging on his every word."

You nodded, listening intently as Aka continued to speak.

"Master Douma is also fiercely loyal to his followers," she added, a small smile crossing her lips. "He would do anything to protect us, to ensure our safety and happiness."

You couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for the man she described. Even though you had only met him briefly, you could sense that there was something special about him.

As your conversation with Aka continued, you couldn't help but feel a growing sense of curiosity about the man known as Douma. What other secrets and wisdom had he imparted to his followers? And what was his ultimate goal in life? These were questions that you knew you would have to seek answers to in the days and weeks to come.

The longer you stayed with Douma, the more he grew fond of you. It was obvious that you had become his favorite, as you were the only one living with him permanently. He kept you safe and took care of you the best way he could.

You were like his little pet, and he loved making sure that you were happy because you looked better that way. You were always so eager to talk to him and spend time with him, which he found simply adorable. He could have feasted on you, but keeping you around was much better - it made the boring times more interesting.

"What's going through that little head of yours?" Douma asked, getting comfortable on a big pillow while he played with your hair, your head resting on his lap.

You lay with your head rested on Douma's lap, looking up at the ceiling of his room with a mixture of thoughtfulness and disbelief. "I can't believe you took me under your wings," you told him. "And you never wanted anything in return." You closed your eyes, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you.

The past few weeks you spent by Douma's side were a whirlwind of new experiences and insights. You followed him everywhere, learning who he was and how he lived his life. He introduced you to his followers, who welcomed you with open arms and showed you the ropes.

However, as you grew closer to Douma, you began to notice some of his followers becoming jealous. They would shoot you looks of disdain and make snide remarks when you were around. At first, you tried to brush it off, but as time went on, their behavior began to wear on you.

Despite the jealousy of some of his followers, Douma continued to show you kindness and respect. He patiently answered your questions and taught you his ways, never once making you feel inferior. You were grateful for his guidance and felt privileged to be so close to him.

In the end, you knew that Douma's influence had changed you for the better. You had learned so much from him, not only about his ways but about yourself as well.

As the weeks went by, you felt yourself growing more and more fond of him, and sometimes even felt strange tickling within your abdomen when he was casting you a glance over the room full of his followers.

You turned to Douma, feeling at ease in his presence. "I feel very well here," you told him, "but I'd like to visit my little hut and take some things from there. I'd also like to visit my brother's grave."

"And for what? You have everything here. You don't need your old stuff or to visit your brother," he rolled his eyes, growing slightly annoyed with your idea. He had given you everything, and yet you still cared about something so silly and trivial. Your brother was nothing but a corpse, rotting in the ground. "Besides, would you really leave me here all alone and sad? Do you want me to die of a broken heart?" He asked dramatically.

"I..." You whispered, turning your glance away from him. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to upset you, Douma."

Your mind wandered to your brother's grave. You thought about how much you missed him and how you wished you could visit him more often. The cemetery was only a few miles away probably, and you knew you could easily sneak out during the night for just an hour or two. You promised yourself that you'd do it, that night or some other time when Douma wouldn't notice, being busy with his errands.

"You didn't upset me, my dear Y/N. It just hurts me that you worry about those things when I make sure you have everything," he purred, easily pulling you up and setting you comfortably on his lap. His arms wrapped around your waist as he hugged you. "Don't you feel good here, with me?"

You looked deeply into Douma's eyes, feeling the warmth of his presence wash over you. "Douma," you whispered, reaching out slowly to caress one of his cheeks gently, "I want you to know that I feel really good by your side. You make me feel safe and sound, and I'm grateful for that." You paused for a moment, taking in the way his eyes sparkled in the dim light casted by a lot of candles set around the room. "You know, I never thought I could trust someone so completely, but with you, it just comes naturally."

The demon purred at your touch and nodded. You were his and there was no need for you to seek anything else beyond what he could give you. "Now you see, I can give you everything you ask for, so there is no need to visit your old life, my sweet little Y/N," he whispered before kissing your cheek.

As Douma leaned in to kiss your cheek, you felt your face flushing with a warm hue. His lips were cold, yet soft and tender against your skin, and you couldn't help but feel a flutter in your chest. "Douma," a weak whisper left your parted lips as you clutched on his shoulders. You moved your head to face him, your cheeks still tinged with pink. "You're right, just as always, my dear master."

He laughed, gently grabbing and squeezing your cheeks. "Look at you! So pretty and cute," Douma chuckled as he played with your soft skin, grazing it with his sharp nails. "I am wondering... If this made you blush so much, then what will this do?"

He grasped your cheeks a bit harder than before and kissed your lips.

Once Douma's lips were pressed to yours, you couldn't help but let out a quiet gasp that quickly turned into a moan. Despite his lips being rather cold, the kiss he offered tasted sweet like honey. The way his tongue moved along your teeth, the way his perfect teeth grabbed your tongue, everything about the kiss was igniting emotions you didn't know you still held within you.

You found yourself wrapping your arms around Douma's neck, pulling him closer to you. You felt his body pressing against yours, his closeness enveloping you. The scent of him filled your nostrils, a heady mix of sandalwood and musk.

Your heart raced as you lost yourself in the moment, feeling completely consumed by the passion between you. For a moment, nothing else mattered but the two of you, locked in a fiery embrace.

You pulled yourself away from Douma after a while, looking him in the rainbow-coloured eyes; his eyes were mesmerizing, and you couldn't help but get lost in them for a moment. "Douma…"

"So pretty and so full of color," he laughed, moving his thumbs across your skin.

Douma indeed enjoyed having you here. He loved that you were such a good pet. He had grown used to having you around, especially loving it when you sat on his lap.

Of course, Douma was aware of the jealousy of some followers, and as a good owner, he took care of some of those who were a threat to his beloved pet. When you noticed this, he explained that they had just left. Thankfully, you always accepted this explanation.

"It's getting late. Aren't you tired?" Douma asked, a hint of worry within his tone.

"Just a little bit, my master," you replied, your cheeks still flushed. You bit your lower lip after his comment about you having a lot of colours. You didn't know how he was doing it, but he was always making your heart skipping a beat.

"Well, then don't sit up late, little one. I want my little girl to be well-rested," he kissed your cheek one last time before gently pushing you off his lap.

You tried your best to keep your composure, but your heart was racing and your felt like whining as Douma pushed you off his lap. Your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "Good night, my master," you smiled at him, bowing your head down.

After that you left his chamber. Of course you had to bump on a group of his the most dedicated followers; their led you down the corridor with a mean glances, and you could swear you heard them whispering about you. Yet, you decided to not pay attention.

You had trouble sleeping, tossing and turning in your bed as the memory of Douma's anger haunted you. You had mentioned leaving the shrine, hoping to visit your brother's grave, but the expression on Douma's face had been rather a nasty one; you'd never seen him like that; the change within him was immediate and unexpected.

You tried to push the memory away, to think of other things, but it kept coming back to you, replaying over and over in your mind. You wondered for a second or two if you had made a mistake in confiding in him, in trusting him with your deepest desires and fears.

As the night wore on, you grew more and more exhausted, but still, you couldn't sleep. You finally decided that you couldn't stay in the bed any longer.

You got up from your bed, trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to wake anyone. You changed into some other clothes, careful to pick things that wouldn't make too much noise as you moved. You didn't want anyone to know that you were leaving, especially not Douma. After putting on a thick fur Douma gifted you with some time before, you were ready.

You didn't want to attract attention by carrying too much, so you decided to leave your bag in the room. You checked your pockets for anything important, making sure you had your keys.

Finally, you took a deep breath and opened the door to your room. You stepped out into the hallway, the floorboards creaking softly beneath your feet. You listened carefully for any sounds, but the shrine was quiet.

You made your way to the front door, your heart pounding in your chest. You turned the handle slowly, hoping it wouldn't make too much noise, and pushed the door open. A gust of cool air hit your face, and you stepped outside into the night. You closed the door behind you, trying to be as quiet as possible, and set off down the path, hoping that you were making the right decision.

Douma could come across as a silly man with his overly friendly behavior. He could seem like someone easy to fool, but oh, you were so mistaken!

A pair of rainbow eyes watched you leave from behind the golden fan. He knew it would happen, he knew you wouldn't really sit on your ass as you should. Douma knew you would be back, of course you would for there was nothing waiting for you out there. You had no reason to leave for good, but of course, you had to fulfill your little ideas.

"Bad, bad pet," Douma whispered to himself. He already planned how he was going to punish you and make you stay with him forever.

As you arrived at the old graveyard, you felt a sense of melancholy wash over you. Memories of childhood days spent with your brother came flooding back, as you made your way to his final resting place. The grave was still and silent, surrounded by the peaceful stillness of the cemetery.

You took out the bouquet of flowers you had managed to gather. With careful hands, you placed them gently on your brother's grave. As you stepped back, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness as you remembered the good times you shared with him. Before you managed to regain your composure, you shed a tear.

The wind picked up, blowing gently through the trees, rustling the leaves and reminding you of the fleeting nature of life. You stood there for a few moments longer, lost in your thoughts, before finally turning to leave. As you walked away, you promised yourself that you would always remember your brother, and keep his memory alive in your heart.

As you made your way towards the Eternal Paradise Faith shrine, you couldn't help but feel a sense of urgency. The sky was beginning to brighten, and you knew that the sun would soon rise. You quickened your pace, determined to reach the shrine before dawn.

Finally, you arrived at the entrance, and were greeted by the serene surroundings of the shrine. The air was thick with the scent of incense, and the sound of chanting people filled your ears. You took a moment to take in your surroundings, appreciating the peaceful atmosphere and the stunning architecture of the shrine.

Oh, you were a little oblivious bunny, so sure that you could get away with this little thing.

He was going to let you think you were the smart one, that you could go behind his back. Douma honestly wondered if maybe you would tell him at some point, admit to your wrongdoings, and beg for forgiveness.

So he waited, pretending he knew nothing, letting you believe he was naive.

The whole day passed, and he heard nothing from you, and it made him mad. He summoned you to see him, just like he did every evening.

Despite feeling curious and a bit uneasy, you went straight to meet him after taking a long bath.

You stepped forward and pushed open the door to Douma's chamber, the hinges creaking as you entered. The room was dimly lit, with only a few candles casting flickering shadows across the walls. "My master, you summoned me."

He looked at you with a sweet smile, resting his cheek on his hand. "Here comes my favorite. Don't be scared, I simply missed you, my little Y/N."

You felt that there was something off about his behavior. It was difficult to put your finger on it, but there was a sense that he was holding something back or not being entirely truthful. Maybe it was the way his rainbow-coloured eyes were looking at you, as if they were about to pierce right through your soul or the hesitation in his voice when he spoke. Whatever it was, you couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right.

Taking a few steps, you came closer to his bed.

He blinked, feigning concern for you. "Is something wrong, my dear? Come here," he said, beckoning you to sit on his lap.

Once you were seated comfortably, he took your palm in his and gave your hand a little kiss. "What is bothering you? Is someone talking bad about you again?"

"It's not that, my master," you replied, trying to regain the control over your uncontrollably shaking body. "I... I just did something bad."

"Oh, you poor, little thing! You did something bad?" Douma hummed as both of his hands rested on your waist, caressing the soft curves. "Oh, I am sure you did... Or maybe you decided to go behind my back and visit your brother?" He asked. "Will you be a good girl and answer my question?"

As you sat on his lap, listening to him speak, your heart began to race when he mentioned your brother. Memories of last night's trip occupied your mind, and your anxiety only grew stronger with each passing moment. "I left the shrine without your permission."

"I understand that. So, now, can you be a good girl and answer my question?"

You only nodded your head, lowering your chin to avoid his gaze.

"Look at me," Douma ordered.

Once you looked at him, he gave you his kind smile, but his hands tightened on your waist, his long nails digging into your skin through the clothes. "Do you think I am stupid? Do you think I am a fool you can play around with?"

"Of course not, my master. I apologize for not obeying your order. Please, forgive me my reckless behavior, master Douma," you begged, most likely sounding like a pathetic whore.

"I should throw you out!" Douma snapped, squeezing you even harder. "I should throw you away and let you die in the wilderness like I didn't when my people found you."

His words grew louder and more aggressive with each passing moment, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest.

As he continued to speak, you felt the tears forming in your eyes. You tried your best to hold them back, but the emotion was simply too overwhelming. You could feel the hot tears trickling down your cheeks, and you quickly wiped them away with the back of your hand.

"Oh, you're crying now? How pathetic," Douma chuckled. "You're alive only because I allowed you to live. I saved your life and didn't turn you into my next meal. You should be grateful for what I did! I gave you everything that you lacked in your life, and this is how you repay me?!"

In that moment, you wished you could simply disappear. You wanted nothing more than to escape from Douma's presence and find solace in the comfort of your own home. But you knew that you had to stay strong and face the situation head-on, even if it meant enduring the pain and discomfort that came with it. "I'm sorry. Please, master, forgive me."

"And what should I forgive you for? I should just get rid of you," he said, and soon after, he smiled. "You are a pretty, little thing. I should just end your life by devouring you."

As Douma continued to speak, you mustered up all of the courage you had left and spoke up. "I suspected that you were a demon," you said firmly, looking him straight in the eyes. "I've known for a few weeks now," you explained. "But I wasn't sure until now. Thank you for confirming it."

Douma looked at you and let out a maniacal laugh. "And what? Should I feel scared? Oh no! Y/N knows what I am," he pretended to be shocked before pushing you hard off his lap, so you fell to the cold floor.

Licking his lips, Douma looked at you. "And what shall I do with you now? It would be a shame to eat you, but it would be a waste to simply murder you and throw you away. I really don't want to stain my floors with your blood."

As Douma's words continued to cut deep, you sat frozen in shock, unable to move or even speak. Your body felt numb, as if you had been plunged into icy water, and your mind raced with a million different thoughts and emotions.

Despite the discomfort of the cold, hard floor beneath you, you remained in the same position for what felt like an eternity. But eventually, you were able to improve your posture, sitting back on your knees for better support. Your muscles were tense, and your fingers tingled with a strange numbness. "Well. You can do whatever you want. It's not that I have any influence here though."

Douma accepted the offer of 'doing whatever he wants,' which was an interesting proposal and he intended to make use of it. "If you say so, my dear. Let's consider it your way of apologizing to me."

Douma sat up and leant forward to you. His long fingers gently touched your cheek and then moved down, across the skin of your neck, until they reached the fabric of your kimono. He had personally picked it out to make you look even more beautiful. It was a shame to destroy it, but he could always get you a new one.

Douma's cold hands easily ripped the fabric open. "Look at you. So beautiful, yet so disobedient," he remarked, slowly running the tip of his tongue across his lower lip.

At first you only gasped, looking up at him with wide opened eyes. You wanted to ask what does he think he's doing, you wanted to run, you wanted to vanish; too many different emotions filled you up at the same time. "What..." You managed to whisper.

"Oh, don't play dumb, Y/N. I know you want me, no matter if I'm a demon or not," he smirked wryly. "I've always felt that, you little needy thing."

Looking him deep in the eyes, you sat up a little and removed your ripped kimono off; now only your black underwear was keeping you from his hungry eyes.

Douma observed you and nodded. "Now you're acting as you should, but as far as I'm concerned, you're still wearing too many clothes."

You slowly got up and reached to your back, unclasping your bra; your eyes never left his. You pushed the straps of your bra down your shoulders, letting it fall to the ground.

In the next step, you slipped fingers beneath the fabric of your panties and pushed them down your legs, stepping out of them in the end.

Finally, you listened to him as you should have from the very beginning. Finally, the bunny followed its master's wishes. "Good girl," he praised before getting comfortable on his favorite pillow. "What will you do now, I wonder?"

"May I get closer, my master?"

He gave you a nod, observing you curiously to see what would happen next; a ery smirk still glued to his lips.

You sauntered towards his bed, swaying your hips from left to right, and gradually seated yourself on the cushion. With a tinge of embarrassment coloring your face, you cautiously straddled his lap, trying to conceal your shyness.

"Now you feel embarrassed, sweetheart? Be brave, just like when you decided to betray my trust," Douma instructed, stroking your thighs.

His lap felt comfortable and welcoming, just as they always did.

Looking him in the eye, you reached your hands out and started unbuckling his belt with a sense of desire burning within your chest. You reached down and fumbled with the buckle for a moment, your fingers clumsy with anticipation. Finally, you managed to get it undone, and you let out a sigh of relief. The belt slipped free from his waist, and you felt a wave of satisfaction wash over you, as you licked your lower lip briefly.

Douma was already enjoying the sight of you. Finally, you knew your rightful place. He rested his chin on his palm as he observed you working.

Now that you were behaving, he was interested in seeing what you planned to do. "Just don't stop, little one. Show me how sorry you are."

With an unhurried pace, you opened the fly of his trousers and met his gaze, only to pause. "I... Well, I haven't done any of those things before, except for one time, but I was drunk and don't remember anything."

He looked at you in disbelief, raising one of his brows up, and sighed softly. Douma shouldn't have been that mad; at least he could teach you a thing or two.

He grabbed you and effortlessly flipped you both so that you were under him. "Oh, my poor, little bunny. I'm gonna teach you, don't worry."

His cold lips pressed a few gentle kisses to your cheeks before he started moving down your naked body, right between your legs.

Your abdomen swelled with an intense burning sensation, accompanied by an unbearable feeling of shame. "Douma, I deeply apologize for letting you down again..." You whispered quietly, and since you didn't know what to do with your hands, you tried to cover your breasts with them.

"Stop covering your body if you wish to avoid disappointing me once more. My dear, unwind and let yourself be at ease," he whispered, kissing the soft flesh of your thigh. He then dived between your parted thighs and started slowly lapping at your beautiful pussy.

You let out a moan as he continued to lap and lick at your sensitive areas, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body.

You had never felt this way before with anyone else. The sensation that Douma was causing was intense and overwhelming. You couldn't believe that someone could make you feel this good.

As the pleasure spread throughout your body, filling every single cell with desire, you let go of your prudery and slipped your hands into his beautiful, blonde locks, moaning his name and trying to buck your hips to gain more friction.

His rainbow eyes looked up and took in the pretty expression you made for him. He couldn't wait to see that face again when he fucks you.

He pulled away from you and bit the inside of your thigh.

As his teeth sank into your soft flesh, you couldn't help but moan. The bite was so powerful that his canines punctured through your skin, causing a few droplets of blood to surface.

You grabbed him be a sleeve of his turtleneck and pulled him closer, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs tightly around his waist, kissing all over his sharp, perfect jawline.

"Oh, you're an eager one, aren't you?" He chuckled, pulling away to undress for you. Since you were in need, he couldn't keep you waiting for much longer.

Douma quickly got rid of his clothes and smiled, wrapping your legs around his waist tightly. He grasped his member and gave it a few jerks before moving it through your lips, teasing your clit. "Are you ready, sweetheart?"

You watche him getting undressed while biting your lower lip, slipping one of your hands between your parted thighs to tease your clitoris.

Douma was a man with a lean and muscular build. He had striking features - a sharp jawline, high cheekbones, and beautiful lips. His eyes were an unusual rainbow color, and they glimmered with a mischievous and seductive light. His skin was cold to the touch, and he exuded an aura of danger and mystery.

It all made you blush even harder, but a soft moan escaped through your parted lips when you felt his rock-hard cock rubbing through your folds. "Fuck me," you whimpered, looking him directly into his eyes.

He didn't think twice before pushing into you, watching your face twist in pleasure. His hand grasped your waist, pulling you gently as he thrusted in. He lowered himself and started whispering into your ear, "Look at you, getting fucked by a demon. I'm going to breed you nice and full."

Your nails dug into the skin on his back as he snapped his hips into you.

The pleasure was immense, and all you could do was moan his name softly while rolling your head back, resting it on his pillow.

Douma didn't give you time to adjust, so at first, all of his thrusts felt like a burning fire within your core. Yet, with time, your walls loosened, welcoming his girth with anticipation.

Douma wrapped his hand around your neck, squeezing it as his hips moved even faster. His other hand moved between your bodies, pinching your clit. "That's it, my little flower, that's it."

Your whimpers and moans grew louder as he increased his brutal pace. You wrapped one of your hands around his wrist, which was set on your neck, and begged him to fuck you even harder. "Douma! Ah! Just like that!" You moaned loudly, trying to buck your hips into his to deepen his thrusts.

"My little whore, soon you will be nice and full, and then everyone will have a reason to be really jealous of you," he growled, snapping his hips even harder into you. The grip on your throat tightened; he was curious about how much you could take.

"H-harder!" You begged. "Can I... Can I try?"

He stopped and looked at you while stroking your calf. "Tell me what you want."

With all your strength, you flipped both of you over so that you were on top of him, his member still deeply buried inside your pussy. "That's better," you whispered, resting your hands on his broad chest and slowly bucking your hips back and forth, making sure to sink on his cock fully, deepening each thrust.

"You little fucking liar!" Douma growled through clenched teeth, grabbing your hips strongly, digging his digits in your soft flesh. "You said you haven't done any of those things, but look at you now, riding me like a whore."

"I didn't lie, master Douma," you moaned, rolling your head back a little at the pleasure spreading throughout your body. His grasp of your hips left you certain you would find some bruises there the next day. "I'm a quick learner."

"Show me what you have learned."

Supporting your weight on his chest, you increased your pace; your pussy started spasming around his already throbbing cock. "Oh! Oh! I'll cum!"

Douma smiled widely, "Very good, my little petal. Cum and let me fill your little, tight cunt up."

You grasped one of his hands and moved it up to your neck. With each movement you were feeling how his throbbing cock massaged your walls, pressing the sweet spot hidden there.

Douma's hand wrapped tightly around your neck as he sat up to thrust his hips into you even harder. "Don't hold it back, Y/N, cum for me."

Your movements became sloppy and the knot that once formed within your abdomen snapped; your cum milked his cock as you screamed his name, rolling your head back in an immense pleasure.

Douma let out a loud, guttural grunt as he came deep inside of you. The feeling of your warm insides filled with his slickly cum was something he craved so much since the day he laid his eyes on you. "That's my good girl. I think I can forgive you for that little thing from today."

You wrapped your arms tightly around his neck and hugged him, still letting him nestle his cock in you; gasping for air you barely understood what he was talking to you. His scent filled your nostrils and in the end, after calming down from your peak, you asked him quietly, "Aren't you mad at me anymore? I promise I won't be disobedient."

"If you keep that promise, I won't be mad. You know I like it when you listen to me, especially since I do a lot to take care of you," he said, slipping his hand in your hair, in the end resting it at the crown of your head, holding you there.

Slowly and carefully getting off of him, you looked him in the eyes. "Douma?"

"What is it, my little pet?"

"Do you really like me?"

"Obviously, I do. If I didn't, you would be dead as soon as you recovered. But here you are, and I am taking care of you."

After a few seconds of silence, you dropped another question. "Can I stay... Can I stay for the rest of the night with you?"

Douma rubbed his chin, pretending to think, before giving you a nod moments later. "Of course, I can't say no to my favorite girl."

After making yourself comfortable by his side, you blushed slightly, feeling your mixed, slick cums oozing out of your pussy. "Have you slept with your other worshippers, too?"

"Yes. I have been with both men and women before," he said simply with a little shrug. It wasn't anything special for him. "But it was a long time ago. Don't worry, you are my special girl, my one and only."

Your eyes widened and you truly wanted to comment and asked more questions about that, but you decided to stay quiet. Instead, you dropped yet another question. "Can I be a demon too?"

"Oh no, you are too cute for that," he chuckled and booped your nose. "But maybe one day, if I decide that I want you to stay with me for eternity, we'll think about that."

"So if you're a demon, my lord, are there other demons out there? I heard a lot of stories, and people were always talking, but I haven't seen one myself. Are they having their cults as well?"

"Oh yes, there are, and they won't hesitate to eat you up. So be grateful I took you into my care. With me, you will be safe," he assured you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. "And no, they don't have cults, as far as I know."

After resting your head upon his chest, you went silent for a moment, only to return to asking questions again. "Are you going to devour me one day?"

Douma let out a loud laughter and shook his head. "I don't fancy playing with my food, and I have decided that I want you to stay with me. Of course, if you keep being a brat and completely strip me of my patience, with a heavy heart, but yes, I will devour you."

You shivered and tried to hide your head under his shoulder. "Can I meet other demons? Are you having demon friends? Are they coming here to devour people as well?"

He looked at you, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, we do have afternoon tea quite often, but none of my friends enjoy it. Quite a shame, truly, but oh well, that's their problem. And no, I am not letting any of them lay an eye, or even six, on you."

You gritted your teeth and shivered once again, not being sure if he was being serious. "Have I ever bumped into one of them, not being aware?"

Douma looked at you and placed his hand over your beating heart. "Well, since you are alive and here with me, the answer is no. You surely didn't bump into any demons without being aware."

You placed a few tiny kisses to his chest. "One last question, and I promise I'll let you rest. Why did you choose not to eat me once I was taken to your temple by your people? Oh, and are you the strongest demon? I think you must be."

Douma watched you, resting his head on his hand. "I just decided to let you live. Honestly, I planned to eat you as soon as you were nursed back to health, but I changed my mind," he shrugged a little, pointing at his eyes. "Not to brag, my dear, but I am the number two."

You once again tried to hide your head under his arm, but after a moment, you straddled his lap again, cupping his cheeks in your hands, taking a closer look into his eyes. Only then you noticed the number written in his irises. "Oh, my, how silly I was to not notice it! But truly, I don't care. To me, my lord is the strongest."

He grabbed your cheeks and pressed a quick kiss to your lips. "That's my smart girl. This is how things should be, little one. You make me more proud with every moment when you're acting like a good, obedient pet."

After the kiss you looked him deeply in his eyes. "Aren't you tired, my lord?"

"No, I am fine but you can rest, as all humans do. I will make sure my little petal is safe."

"Lord Douma?"

"Hmmm?"

"I love you…"

Douma was taken aback by your confession of love to him. Since he was a child, he was unable to fully understand human emotions, and the concept of love was something foreign to him. He stared at you for a moment, trying to process your words. In the end, with a soft smile, he gently grasped your chin between his slender fingers and kissed the bridge of your pretty nose. "I appreciate your feelings, but love is not something that I am familiar with. I care for you deeply, that's the fact, but I do not know if I can reciprocate your feelings in the same way."

"I understand, my lord. It means the world to me still," you got off of him again and made yourself comfortable on his chest, oh he was so soft, even if a little cold.

With time, your eyes started closing and eventually you drifted off to sleep.

All Douma knew was that he wanted to keep you around. It seemed like you were already a much better pet than the last one, but he was going to keep watching you with his careful eye. If you ever got on his nerves again, he wouldn't hesitate to get rid of you in the most brutal way possible.

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wingedjellyfishflight · 10 months

Text

A Forgotten Birthday

"How old is y/n then?" The new recruit is always trying to flirt with Soap by asking him gossip and facts about the team.

"Twenty-six." He answers her so easily. It feels like a stab to your heart all over again.

"Twenty-seven." You correct, voice conspicuously devoid of emotion.

"No, your birthday isn't until May, and it's..." His face pales. He whips around to look at you. "We missed it. How did we miss it?" You shrug, not meeting his eyes.

"Some things just aren't important." Your food tastes like sawdust. You give up trying to eat and toss it in the trash on the way out. Maybe hitting the gym will help. No, you know he's going to tell everyone, and you don't want to deal with their pity-filled stares and questions about making it up to you now that they've finally remembered.

Running the trail system near the base is a favorite of yours normally. Today, it isn't relaxing, but anger-inducing. You were on a mission in a forest just like this across the world for your birthday. It was almost two weeks after the day that you got back, and you eagerly waited for the surprise party that Soap, Gaz, and Price always set up for each person's birthday, but... nothing. After three weeks, you gave up all hope for one and steeled yourself to give nothing away. Can't let them see you hurt over a stupid birthday. Can't make the team lose focus or lose your own. You're an adult, after all.

Zoned out, you don't realize how far you have run until it's nearly too dark to see the path. Sitting on a stump, you give in and have a cry about the whole thing. Self-pity taking you over for just a few minutes. Wiping your eyes, you startle when a hand touches your back. You leap up and move to a defensive crouch only to see Ghost's balaclava looming out of the darkness at you.

"Luv, what's wrong?"

"N-nothing. Just, I don't know. Needed a cry, I guess. Didn't think anyone would see me."

"You certainly didn't see anyone. I've been running behind you for nearly five minutes. I could have been anyone. You need to be more aware of things." Your hurt and confusion turns to anger at the lecture he is spouting off.

"Ya, I guess I do need to be more aware. Clearly, I am the problem." You stomp away from him, starting back to base, muttering to yourself about transfers to other teams who might care more. Ghost wraps his hand around your arm and pulls you to a stop.

"What, I make one comment, and you're just going to quit on us? What is actually going on, pet? Someone piss you off or something? Do I need to knock teeth out?"

"I... everyone forgot," you mumble. Ghost glances around to ensure you're alone and tugs you against his chest, rubbing your back. "I was in the shit and when I got back, nobody remembered my birthday." He freezes, hands cradling you.

"They forgot? How could they forget? Your birthday is always at the beginning of the mission season. I thought you guys had it when I was down range. I was gutted to have missed it. Sent you flowers as a sorry." His grip tightens to an almost painful level, and you grip back, remembering the beautiful bouquet that had been left for you without a note. "We will just have to make Soap and Captain pay for forgetting then." You glance up and see his eyes glimmering at you in the moonlight.

"We should probably find our way home first."

"Home, that sounds good." His phone suddenly goes off, making you jump. "Group text. 'SOS emergency meeting. Do not tell y/n.' They ain't even tryin' to be subtle at this point." He guides the two of you down the path, walking quick and assured. Within minutes, he is getting an avalanche of phone calls and texts to the point that he is tempted to throw it into the woods around you, but you turn it off and slip it into his pocket for him.

"Last time you threw one and broke it, Captain said he would glue the new one to your hand, and I'm pretty sure he was serious." Ghost ruffles your hair.

"That was a private meeting, Luv. How did you hear him say that?"

You scoff. "You'd be lucky if the entire fuckin' base didn't hear him tell you that with how loud he was shouting." He just chuckles and guides you both home. He drops you off at the women's barracks and storms into the team meeting, slamming the door into the wall.

"Finally you show up! We forgot y/n's birthday and we are planning a party to make up for it."

"No. You are not."

"What?! We can't just ignore it. We forgot! It's been months!"

"You're not going to force her to accept a pity party to make you feel better about what you did."

"Ghost, I know you hate parties, but she still deserves to know we care."

"So, show her. Before she makes good on transferring out. But no party. I will handle her party from now on since you fucks can't be trusted to remember." He walks out without another word, the room behind him in chaos.

"Why is he acting like he didn't forget, too?" Gaz asks incredulously.

"Because the bawbag didn't. He sent the mystery flowers that made her cry. It was right after he got back from down range. Can't believe I didn't catch it earlier."

Price stubs out his cigar. "So, no party. And she is thinking about leaving. We really cocked this one up, boys." He stands and walks to the door, pausing on the threshold. "No flowers, no gifts. Make it up to her. And Soap," he turns to look the Scottish man in the eye, "sleep with one eye open. Ghost is absolutely going to make us pay for making her cry." He walks away, no pep in his step, now.

"Cry? How does he know she cried?" Gaz seems baffled by the Captain's surety.

"Course she cried. Everyone does when they are forgotten or abandoned."

"Ghost doesn't, though. We never celebrate his birthday."

"We being the key there, mate. Remember last month when she shoved a new set of gloves and a mask at him? Told him the ones he was wearing were manky as fuck. That was his birthday gift." He runs a hand through his hair. "Anyway, I'm off. Need t'think about how I'm gonna beg forgiveness from both of 'em."

#ghost cod #call of duty #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price

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psychedelic-ink · 1 year

Text

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒 𝐆𝐎 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋.

DAY THREE OF HAUNTED HOEDOWN

prompt: priest au + “worship me. until i tell you to stop.”

pairing: priest!ezra x f!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni, dark content

summary: after a breakup, you find solaca at the local church. there, you meet father ezra.

word count: 3.4k

warnings: dubcon, manipulation, brief mention of reader going through a breakup, reader having a brief anxiety attack, reader having confidence issues, loneliness, messy blowjob, degradation, leg humping, dirty talk, facial, power imbalance, dumbification if you squint, use of whore, religious themes, this is written for horny purposes only, priest kink, a lot of 'yes father's and 'forgive me father's

Comfort is what leads you to your local church.

You wouldn’t exactly say you’re a believer, but coming to the church and sticking wishing candles into the sandy surface was one of your finest memories from your childhood. You enjoy the chocolaty smell of the wooden benches, the stained large panes of the windows that cast vibrant rainbows upon the polished floor when the sun hits them just right.

When you sit on the bench, surrounded by a calm dimness and silent prayers, you feel contented, like the world outside doesn’t exist.

You feel lonely out there in the modern world, especially after your breakup, which was the turning point that led you to the adorned wooden doors of the church in the first place. It wasn’t a messy breakup, still, it left you in shambles. He’d moved on so quickly. Just picking up his clothes and throwing them into the bag before he left. It broke your heart if you’re being honest. He was never overly affectionate or necessarily cared about the things you cared about, but it was better than being utterly alone.

Just a little bit of comfort. That’s all you want. Just a sense of belonging.

Here at the church, the sense of commune affects you, even if you’re not exactly a part of it.

Sitting at the edge of the bench, you look up. The church is empty today due to the heavy downpour, there’s only one more person other than you. They’re busy in prayer so you don’t stare at them for long, not wanting to be rude.

Your eyes move away from the person, they linger on the confessionals. You always found the idea appealing in some twisted way. As if asking for forgiveness from some random man will solve all your problems. You never went it, always feeling too paranoid that someone might hear how stupid you sound.

The person finishes their prayer, and as they walk down the middle, you notice it was a youngish man, his hair stuck to his forehead. His steps echo, a second later the sound of his departure rings dull against the cold walls.

You rise slowly, eyes once again fixed on the booths. They’re barely noticeable thanks to how dimly lit the church is, and with no sun there’s little light to guide you.

You’re not even sure a Father will assist you when you open the door to the small space. It creaks loudly and your skin crawls. You’re hesitant, yet you still climb inside and take a seat. It’s small, dark, and smells overwhelmingly of wood. It’s oddly comforting.

You’re unsure what to do with yourself until you hear the door opening and closing from the other side of the booth.

“Welcome. I am Father Ezra, and I am here to listen, guide, and offer you the grace of God's forgiveness. As sunlit moments blend with shadows, so too do our lives weave intricate tales of both frailty and strength. With open ears and an open heart, I beckon you to unburden your spirit. When you're ready, please share your thoughts, knowing that your words are heard in the spirit of compassion and understanding.”

Your eyes widen at the sound of his voice. He doesn’t rush his speech, taking time as if every sentence is a story of its own. It’s so smooth, enticing, beckoning you to pour all the darkness that lingers around your heart. You’re surprised to find yourself wanting to hear more of that honey-dipped voice.

Father Ezra, you’ve heard his name before and from afar, even laid eyes on him. You can barely remember what he looks like now though. You certainly never heard him during sermons, you would’ve definitely remembered his voice if you had.

You’re pulled away from your thoughts when you hear a creak and a soft flutter of a robe.

“Sorry,” you say, quick and silent. “This is my first time doing this and I didn’t really have a prepared thing in mind.”

His soft chuckle echoes—god, why does he sound so good?

“Sweet, lost, little bird, you do not need to rush it. You can start by introducing yourself. Tell me your name.”

A shudder that starts from your toes claws all the way up to your spine. All he did was ask your name, yet, it feels like he’s asking for something drastic like your life. You swallow around the know in your throat, lowering your gaze even though there’s no one that can see you.

You give him your name and something you can’t discern shifts in the air.

“What a lovely name,” he hums. “Now tell me, what troubles you on this rainy day.”

“Nothing specific,” a sigh parts your lips, and again, a creak comes through the other side. Your skin prickles. You can feel as if his eyes can see through the thin wall that separates you both. “I’m feeling a bit lonely. I—I went through a break up a couple of weeks ago and. . . I guess I can’t help but feel it’s my fault somehow.”

You wait for him to say something, but when he doesn’t, you continue.

“This might sound dumb—”

“There is no such thing,” you can almost hear the smile in his voice. “There’s no shame in asking for guidance and forgiveness.”

“There were these things. . . that he said about me. Things like I was too needy, too dependent, and too much overall. And I feel like it’s true because no one ever seems to stay with me,” you let out a bitter chuckle as tears begin to well in your eyes. “I don’t know why I’m like this, maybe—maybe God is punishing me for a sin I don’t know and i-if that’s the case, Father, I seek forgiveness.”

A breath. A low, violent exhale of breath. Your eyes flit to the grille, a pair of plush lips now visible through the tightly made slats.

“You ask for forgiveness, atonement, yet do you actually believe?” he coos, voice low.

“I don’t,” you answer a bit too quickly and blood boils under your nails. “I–I mean I don’t know.”

“How do you expect me to help when you doubt the lord’s existence, little one?” Despite the provocative question, you see the faint curve of his smile through the darkness. “Are you desperate?”

“I didn’t mean to offend,” you say quietly. The rain pour had begun again, drowning out the rest of the sound. “I’ve been coming here ever since the breakup. I enjoy watching people pray and smile, looking comforted. I just thought that if I did this, that comfort would extend to me as well. I’m sorry.”

“The comfort is fleeting when you don’t believe it to be true,” he murmurs, ignoring your apology. “If you seek guidance, I can help you understand better and maybe then you’ll receive the comfort and the forgiveness that you crave oh so deeply.”

There’s a mocking lilt to his tone that you decide to ignore. It feels only right when you had outwardly said that you didn’t believe in the man’s religion.

With an open heart, you accept his offer of guidance.

You visit his office almost every night.

You found yourself enjoying the church even more after hours. Ezra became a friend, which didn’t surprise you because that man had an essence about him that would charm the pants off of any devil that he might encounter. You guys did bible studies together and talked about other religions as well, and what it means to understand the words inscribed and given to the people. It was interesting to listen to. He would even give you assignments sometimes, telling you to read a specific paper or book. It felt like being at school again. He’d given you something you thought you had lost forever; A sense of purpose.

It didn’t hurt that he was a sight to look at. His dark brown eyes always held a certain mischief to them, lighting up in amusement whenever you said anything peculiar.

You knew it was cliche to have a crush on a priest, yet here you were, wagging an imaginary tail whenever he praised you for doing a good job.

But tonight is not one of those days you feel all giddy and excited to see him. You enter the wide halls of the church and take a sharp turn towards his office, all you sense is impending doom, your insides riddled with anxiety. You’re shaking, barely able to feel your legs as you walk.

When you enter, his eyes look up from the papers that lay in front of him, his gaze momentarily dropping to where your dress ends, then back up. His brows furrowing instantly at your heavy breathing, “Little bird, what’s wrong?”

“Everything!” you exclaim, heaving a breath. “Everything is wrong—I’m wrong—I—fuck—”

Ezra clears his throat in warning, “Language,” he says with a click of his tongue.

“Sorry, Father.” you look down in shame, your hands balled into tight fists as you fight the urge to pace around his office. “I just—”

He cuts you off, “Why don’t you take a seat and tell me what happened?” he smiles kindly. “And maybe you can stop shaking while you’re at it.”

You nod as you take a seat. Your heart continuously rams against your ribcage and you can barely breathe, your throat convulsing in agony. Ezra gestures to you to look at him. When you do, he takes a deep inhale, making a demonstration in showing how his chest expands and contracts, his hand following the movement as if on waves.

You breathe with him, the oxygen that fills your lungs calming you.

“Good,” he hums. “Now tell me what happened.”

“I saw him today. My—My ex,” you shook your head, reliving the moment. “He’s already seeing someone, which is fine if he was just honest about it. It’s some girl from work, the same girl I asked him about when he moved out,” a hiccup parts your sentence and you continue, your eyes dropping away from Ezra’s. “I said ‘is it her, do you like someone else’ and he said no. He pretended not to recognize me, even though his girlfriend did. I could see it in her eyes but he just walked past me, like I never existed.”

A sole tear trickles down your cheek and you wipe it away with your sleeve, sniffling. When you feel another, you repeat the motion, finding solace in the softness of the fabric. “I’m an idiot,” you say, still not looking at him. “What am I even doing here? I should try to face reality not escape it in some—some church.”

You hadn’t meant to sound so harsh. The church had helped you when you needed it most, it had given you Ezra, most of all. But you couldn’t help the words, you’re angry. Furious. You feel invisible out there, but here, here people recognize you, and ask where you’ve been when you came back the other day. It’s good to know that if you disappear some people would wonder about you.

Ezra’s voice rings in your ear, and without even understanding the words he’s saying, you’re looking up.

“Let’s try something,” he says probably again. “Come here.”

You’re slightly confused but obliged. He pushes his chair slightly back, making some room between him and the desk. Your eyes drop to the end of his robes, two shiny shoes peaking from underneath.

“Get on your knees.”

You snort, “Excuse me?”

“It’s going to calm you,” he says. “Do you trust me?”

Your lips part with a faint gasp, you don’t blink as your eyes search his. There’s a tranquility in his expression that makes your heart throb. “Of course, Father,” you get on your knees.

“Good girl,” he pats his thigh. “Now lay your head.”

You do so without question this time, appreciating the firmness of muscle under your head. A moment passes, awkwardness starting to settle in, then you feel his fingers touching the back of your neck and gradually they move up to your scalp. Humming a gentle melody, he starts to stroke your hair, massaging your head as he went along. A deep sigh comes from the depths of your lungs, your nerves humming, your rigid muscles finally relax.

“You’ve been doing so well these past couple of weeks,” he says, a hint of amusement lingering in his voice. “You’ve been learning, little bird, but you still have much to learn. The church is part of the real world, you haven’t been doing nothing.”

Listening to him so intently, he sends shivers down your spine, the thickness of arousal pooling between your legs. He drags blunt nails down your scalp and comes down to your nape to squeeze from both sides. You’re embarrassed of the moan that rattles your throat but he doesn’t seem to mind it. You lean closer, pressing your cheek further against his leg.

“Isn’t this nice?” he asks without needing the answer. “You, my obedient girl, listening and eager to please. You’ll always feel like this when you’re with me. No anxiety, no need to compete and try to accomplish something when all you want to do is. . . relax. . .”

His voice had dropped to a whisper, every word a gentle caress to your skin. Eyes fluttering close, you only focus on the ups and downs of his voice, your body reacting to every stop and turn. The fabric of your underwear dampens, your folds becoming slicker the more you inch towards him. You ache for your fingers—or better yet his cock—but he isn’t allowed to touch you is he?

You try to remember the lessons in celibacy but can’t seem to remember any of them.

Your tighs instinctively press together, the brief friction doing little in dousing the wildfires between your legs. You wiggle a bit closer, his voice nothing but a siren song now.

Ezra notices the constant movement, his fingers slip under your chin, and drags your eyes up to face him. Your breath hitches. The faint moonlight that trickles through the windows behind him cast his face in complete shadow, his features hardening with darkness. He slips his foot between your legs, the floor creaking under the sole of his shoe, “Now, why can’t you stay still when I’m trying so hard to soothe you, little bird?”

He lifts the point of his shoe, the leather pressing directly against your throbbing clit. A surprised whimper rips from your throat, your body shaking as he drags the leather tip down. Your insides clench with want, with a primal need that you can’t seem to understand.

You’re haunted by his words and the darkness that lurks in his eyes. Despite yourself, you press yourself up against his leg like some animal. You can’t seem to stop staring at him. And by the way he pushes his shoe further into you, borderline on almost being painful, you don’t think he minds either.

Your eyes flutter as he parts his robe, your gaze immediately drops to the outline of his cock that’s visible. Your mouth waters.

“Worship me,” he unbuttons himself with expertise but leaves it at that. “Until I tell you to stop.”

His leg still between your legs, you pull out his cock. The tip is an angry shade of red, precum dotting at the tip, without much thought you lean over and dip your tongue, tasting him for the first time. The taste of him coats the inside of your mouth and you swallow greedily, the blood rush to your ears muffling his voice.

“Such a sweet whore,” he hums. “You like sucking cock, don’t you?”

Dragging your lips down the length of him, you answer with him between your lips, “Yes, Father.”

“I really do enjoy it when you call me that,” his thumb touches your cheek as you finally take him between your lips, you allow out your cheeks and flatten your tongue against the underside of his cock. “All you needed was a little encouragement and now you’re the perfect hole for me. There’s nothing wrong with you, all you need is someone to take care of you.”

You hum in approval around him, taking him deeper while grinding against his leg, your dress rides up your thighs, your underwear nearly sheer in color.

“I can feel how wet you are. So needy,” he lays back in his chair and spreads his legs. “I want to feel every inch of your mouth. I said worship, if this is how you think that works you’re mistaken, dove.”

Your stomach churns at that. You want to make him happy—you truly do. You part from him, strings of saliva following the frame of your lips as you bend down closer to the floor, feeling the full shape of his shoe. You look up to him, the heft of his cock laying directly in the middle of your face, the scent of sex and him clinging to your nose. Opening your mouth, you lick between his balls, taking one into your mouth, you swirl your tongue around it. His eyes roll in pleasure, a thick drop of precome dripping to your forehead.

“That’s it,” he raps and guides you back up, lining the bulbous head of his cock against your lips. He pushes forward, cock filling your mouth then inching down your throat. Tears trickle down your cheeks, your throat convulsing as you try to accommodate to the width of him. You swallow and swallow, until your nose is buried into the dark curls that crown his length. You can barely breathe. “I knew you could take it all, little one. I know that mouth could do more than talk.”

The heavy palm of his hand moves down your throat, he feels the shape of himself through the skin. His cock twitches when it feels his hand, straining your mouth further.

He pulls out and you gasp for air, his grin is wide as he looks down at you. “I want to make a mess of that face,” with the rough pitch of his words, you roll your hips, your clit catches against his shoe and a loud moan spills from your damp lips. He clicks his tongue with annoyance. “Ask for forgiveness,” he growls, hand moving up and down his cock with hard strokes.

“For what, Father?” your voice is barely above a whisper. And you’re not sure why you asked when you’re going to surrender to his wants regardless of what they are.

“For being a whore,” he spits. “For talking about a past flame and for taking pleasure without permission.”

He watches with heavy eyes as you straighten yourself, his cock aimed directly at your face. You watch him with parted lips. His nail gently traces the vein that curls around the length of him, slick sounds filling the normally silent office. He swipes a thumb over his head and thrusts into his fist.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” you begin. “It has been two weeks since my last confession. I have behaved like a whore, talked about another man in the presence of the clergy, and taken pleasure without permission. I come before you seeking God's forgiveness and guidance.”

“Will you repeat your sins?”

“No, Father. Not unless I have permission to do so.”

His hand quickens, his grip tightening, “Do it then,” he snarls with a devilish smile. “Ask me permission to be a whore.”

Instead of a verbal permission, you part your mouth wide and stick your tongue out. His eyes widen with shock momentarily before understanding. He seems pleased and in return, you feel genuine jot for finally doing something right.

He grips your chin, pulling you away from his leg and directly between his thighs. It doesn’t take him long to go over the age—one, two more strokes and you feel the first string of white come spurting over your face. It drips down your forehead from your face. The sounds Ezra make are unhinged, his hips lifting from the seat as he moans openly into the air, defiling you and marking you as his. His seed feels heavy over your face and with your tongue, you catch a bit of it, moaning as you swallow.

Ezra hunches over you and you feel his tongue on your cheek, taking himself into his mouth, he presses his tongue into your mouth, forcing more of himself inside of you.

When he parts away, you’re dazed, all pretense of the life outside of this church gone.

“My sweet bird, so dirty now,” he purrs, this time he collects more of himself over his fingers and stuffs it into your mouth. Your eyes rolling you swallow over and over. “What do you say?” he asks melodically.

“Thank you, Father.”

#ezra prospect x reader #ezra x reader #ezra prospect x you #ezra prospect x f!reader #ezra prospect x fem!reader #priest!ezra #tw dark content #tw dubcon #pedro pascal characters #hauntedhoedown #pedro pascal character fanfic #prospect fanfic

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onyourowndaisymae · 1 year

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when satan falls in love

content + warnings: satan x reader, satan's in his demon form and his tail is Not Cooperating, fluff // [masterlist]

word count: ~1.4k

satan's feet drag along the floor as he journeys from the front door to his safe haven. he stopped hiding his demon form the moment he trudged through the door-- now his heavy footsteps and the ominous drag of his tail against the ground are what tell people to stay away. the barbs catch a little along the wood floors. lucifer will bitch at him again when he notices, but right now satan isn't the least bit worried about his older brother's opinions.

the door to his room shuts with a loud thunk! the bookcases shudder with effort, the disorganized book stacks groaning with a quiet threat of toppling over. the noise echoes to his high ceilings, then dies amongst poetic words and fantastical novels.

he collapses on his bed and groans testily. his tail flicks about, impatient, looking for things to destroy-- he knows if he gives into his destructive urges he'll only regret it later. he's lost countless tomes to a fit of rage, spent hours cleaning up his messes only to piss himself off more.

satan rolls over and closes his eyes, practicing his breathing exercises to calm himself down. what had him worked up this much, anyways?

lots of things. his brothers had been especially rowdy today, starting his day off with an unusually irritating breakfast. then he had a surprise quiz early in the day. at lunch, you were whisked away by lord diavolo for some bullshit reason or another. he can still picture the apologetic look on your face, waving over your shoulder with a slight frown as you had to abandon him in favor of your responsibilities. pair that with a few hellish classes and another surprise student council meeting, and you'll understand why satan is particularly testy today.

damn. after all this time, he'd grown much better at making sure he could handle massive slights that pissed him off. it's the stacking of little things on top of each other that presses his buttons.

in truth, he'd probably be better if he'd seen more of you lately. lunch just seemed to be a tipping point in the drought of your love. how long has it been since he's been able curl up with you at his side? since he's gotten a moment to have a proper date with you? the tangled emotions only make his blood boil more.

his emerald eyes catch something unfamiliar at the edge of his vision. he knows the layout of his room top to bottom-- any minor changes to his disorganization are noted fairly quickly, regardless of what others might think.

there's an envelope peaking out of a nearby bookshelf. it's subtle, but noticeable enough when he believes he was intended to find it. his first instinct is to be angry. who the fuck thought they were entitled to access his room when he was gone?

satan rises from his bed and angrily snatches the envelope from its hiding spot. he's ready to rip it in half in a destructive fit of rage when he spots your handwriting on the front. the fire inside of him settles to embers as his eyes follow the curl of your letters as you wrote his name. he could spot that handwriting anywhere. the "s" in his name swoops with grandeur, like you're going out of your way to be fancy, and he can't help but smile a little. he opens the letter carefully-- there's no way he won't keep whatever this is, all because it came from you-- and begins to read your familiar scrawl across a nice piece of stationary.

my beloved satan,

i've missed you! that's odd to say considering we live together, but... life seems to find new ways every day to keep us apart. it's weird to look back on my day and realize i've barely seen you. we barely get a peaceful lunch together anymore! there's always someone joining us or pulling one of us away before we can settle... i don't mean to sound clingy, but i don't think it's bad to want to have some alone with your boyfriend!

as i'm writing this, i'm cooped up in diavolo's office during a little break in some meetings. there's some trouble with some of their human world contacts, so i've been brought in to act as a "bridge" between the two. that apparently means sitting through lots of boring, professional talks and trying to pretend like i'm not about to fall asleep. barbatos made some really nice tea, though, and that's been my saving grace so far.

i can't wait until we find some alone time again. i've never found something more peaceful than cuddling up to you while you're reading and listening to you breathe. if i rest my hand on your chest, i can hear your steady heartbeat, too. you always tease me for being so sleepy and run your hand along my back, but who wouldn't fall asleep under those conditions? i just feel so at peace when i'm with you. nobody else can make me feel so safe and cared for. even when we're not together, knowing you're there for me makes each day better.

was it weird of me to write this as a letter? i hope not. you hear about people writing their lovers romantic love letters in the movies and books. i thought i'd give it a try. it's nice to have a physical reminder of someone's feelings for you. ticket stubs and stuffed animals are nice, but i wanted to give you something that illustrates my feelings more clearly. i adore you. you mean the world to me. i feel like it's harder to say things like that when you look at me, but here in the letter i'll say it as many times as i want to. you are my best friend, satan, and i'm glad to have you as my partner.

i hope this letter makes you smile. i'm planning on hiding it in your room, so hopefully it'll take you a bit to find it.

yours always,

so much for him waiting to find the letter.

in the quiet of his room, devoid of all distraction except the gentle whir of the air leaving a nearby vent, satan realizes he's in love with you.

his body freezes. for these past few weeks, he's intellectualized his feelings for you-- it's not love, but adoration. infatuation. lust, even. but no. he can feel the realization settling on his shoulders like a warm blanket fresh from the dryer.

when he was created, all satan would feel was reckless, horrifying, world-ending rage. it consumed him like a wildfire during a dry season, devouring any part of him that might be redeemable with the crackle of wild grass and the unforgiving heat. but meeting you changed him. his smiles were no longer plastic, but easy and natural. his irritation often simmered in his chest instead of exploding from his lips as harsh words, now just huffs and sharp glances.

you made him better. he knows now there's more to him than wrath. every single positive change in his life ever since you came to the devildom was driven by you.

he takes a deep breath to calm himself. instead of wrath, he's fighting the flush creeping up the back his neck. he reads the letter again, then again, each time sparking something in his stomach that he had to push down.

love. so this is what it feels like, huh?

he's read his fair share of sappy stories, but they all pale in comparison to the real thing. it's unsettling for him to be bursting with positive emotion, but here he is. flushed, stiff, listening to the silence as his heartbeat pounds in his ears. it takes him too long to realize that his tail was swishing behind him, thumping against a nearby chair enthusiastically. that only embarrasses him more-- is he really so in love with you that he's wagging his tail like a dog?

originally, he thought to corner you right now and show you just how much he appreciates the letter. but with his body acting out like this...

satan takes a seat his desk, digging around until he finds some suitable stationary, a writing feather (pretentious, he knows, but he can't ignore the urge to be so traditional), and an inkwell. if you were exchanging letters to express your feelings, now, then expect him to write you the best damn love letter you've ever seen.

taglist for this series: @deepseafragments // @darkflowerav // @annoying-and-upset // @katerinaval // @lurkingsnails // @chirikoheina // @all-mights-wife // @notareum

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me nightbringer #obey me nb #obey me satan #obey me satan x reader #obey me x reader #obey me fluff #otome

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alienvspredator-art · 7 months

Text

REQUEST: Predator smut

Ralatioship: Male reader/ Wolf predator.

Warning: SMUT/NSWF. Minors don’t interact!!

Title: Can we have a smut fic of Wolf with a male!reader who likes a lot to tease by messing with his hair and it backfires always?

You smiled as you remembered how it all started, you never imagined that he would reciprocate your feelings, he was an elite Yautja, someone who seemed unattainable.

And you got along well, well, your relationship included a lot of pranks, you two had fun together in a love-hate situation, he made fun of how small you were and you told him that he wasn't as good a hunter as he seemed.

But oh God... how much you wanted him, all that hatred you pretended to have for him disappeared when you focused on his body, his chiseled abdomen and his strong arms, as time went by the jokes diminished, suddenly you acted nervously in front of him. You started to avoid his gaze and blushed when he was around.

You fell in love.

When you finally took courage and confessed your feelings to him, he just watched you, he didn't say anything and left you standing there. Thank goodness you didn't make a public statement, you were already embarrassed enough by the 'rejection'.

You didn't want to see him anymore or show your face, you wanted the earth to swallow you.

But to your surprise, Wolf looked for you at your house later and he talked to you more calmly, he explained to you that he was just joking and that he was also attracted to you, you almost hit him. Again he had gotten his way.

Now they had been together for some time, but nothing had happened, he spent his time busy hunting for him or training the Young Blood and you spent your time on other missions. When he finally returned to the house, you approached him with your hands on your waist.

“And good? Do you think we can finally be alone? “ you asked.

“I think so,” he said.

“I think so…” you repeated, you frowned and approached him, you raised your head so you could look him in the eyes, he was much taller than you. “Damn, I wish you could stay today, but I guess you have another mission, right? That's why you're so thoughtful.”

He nodded, you already assumed it, you knew him well.

“You know that I’m from the elite and that I don't have that much free time” he explained.

“And if... just for today, you stay with me.” Your cheeks burned.

He scoffed “you can't live without me.”

You stretched out your hand and reached for one of the tendrils that swung over his shoulders, the reaction was immediate, he took your wrist.

You knew that those dreadlocks were sensitive, they were an erogenous part of his body and he always pushed you roughly when you tried to touch him, as if he wanted to avoid something.

But you wished he wouldn't avoid anything.

Aware of what your decision could mean, you reached out with your other hand and lightly tugged on a pair of tendrils. He let out a soft grunt and his breathing became irregular. You continued running your hand over his face, over his jaws. He let go of your other hand.

You ran down his abdomen, his skin was so different from yours, so exotic and hot; Then you returned to his head where you deliberately pulled on his dreadlocks, causing him to let out a quite audible moan, it was a kind of low growl that caused your legs to tremble.

You removed your hands and raised an eyebrow:

“And good? I think you can't live without me either.” You said, so sure of yourself.

He growled, but he didn't seem angry, he just pushed you into the dining room, you were left with your abdomen against the wood and your feet dangling over the edge. He raised his hands up your thighs, he could already feel his hard member beginning to stand up, there were so many nights in which he dreamed of you, it was easy to get excited.

“Do you want to play dirty?” his voice sounded different, thicker, hotter, you made an effort to get up and he imprisoned your hands in yours, bringing his body closer to your back.

You couldn't take it anymore. Your body asked for him.

And Wolf wanted you too but he was worried... you were smaller, he didn't want to hurt you and he wasn't really sure if this was what you wanted. He just needed to hear no and he would leave you alone.

“It's okay” you whispered, your own member began to throb, you just wanted him to make you his and that's it. Here and now, in the kitchen, the place didn't matter to you! You only cared about being with him.

Those brief words ignited his body, you unbuttoned your pants and let them fall down your legs, he put a finger towards your hole and a moan escaped your lips when he introduced a little bit inside you, he repeated the action several times, preparing you, to It was like a wonderful torture and moans escaped your lips, you couldn't control yourself.

Wolf caressed you without haste, enjoying your body and moments later he unbuckled his belt and his loincloth fell to the floor, his member was free, he felt relieved to get rid of the pressure, you turned your head a little and he dresses; It was thick, big and ridged, much better than you had imagined and it had some lubricant on the tip.

You clenched your fists, angry at not finding anything you could hold on to on the smooth table, right after you felt the strong grip of his hands on your hips, distracting you from your search.

It was your last chance to refuse, but there was nothing else you wanted more than to be with him, you relaxed your body.

He began to enter you, his hands left your hips and placed themselves on the table.

“Shit!” He exclaimed, he was about to collapse on your back, you were so tight and he couldn't stop a growl from leaving his lips.

“F-fuck!”You said, the immense stretch caused you a wave of pleasure and pain, you once thought about not being able to bear the entire length of him, but now you couldn't think clearly.

He gave you a few moments to breathe, you adjusted your own angle on the table and then he started fucking you.

You could feel him so deep inside you, all those strange textures of his own skin, all his movements, he went in and out, maintaining a slow and long rhythm, the pain slowly faded away, you were adjusting to his girth and you wanted to. further.

“C-come on, I like this, don't stop!” You have never felt more complete, ever.

Wolf increased the speed of his thrusts, making you delirious and scream, he growled, above you, he spoke in his own language, as if he had forgotten all the English you had taught him.

You were so close...

And then you clenched your fists so hard, you felt your own release and he was still pushing into you, dragging you to a second orgasm, your inner walls squeezing his member tightly, he wasn't going to last any longer.

With a deafening roar he came inside you, spilling his seed until he filled you completely, you felt all that heat embrace inside you, flooding you, the liquid ran down your legs and Wolf was still ejaculating.

“F-fuck…” You whispered, he pulled away from you.

“I think I've won this fight” Wolf said, you rolled your eyes, you were about to complain when he pushed you away from the table and brought you closer to his chest, you were both sweaty, you were still agitated but he just held you against his body, you knew that this was his own way of showing you his affection, yautja weren't usually loving, but here Wolf was, hugging your body, because you were the most precious thing to him.

You smiled, “I love you,” you said, you weren’t sure you could stay standing, you were exhausted, but luckily, he was by your side.

#request #predator x you #predator x reader #predator x human #wolf predator #wolf predator x reader #yautja fluff #yautja x you #yautja x human #yautja #yautja x male reader #requests

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d6volution · 10 months

Note

Okay okay so, what if, Caine seems a bit off one day and you notice, you go to his room to see what's bothering him and things progress and get yk, intimate

sure, 😌 here's a little something ♡

-------------

"Well then my little superstars! That... that will be all for today!" Caine said with a bit of hesitation, wrapping up the adventure for the day with the intentions of sending you all off.

But, you couldn't help but notice how bothered he seemed.. maybe you should check up on him after everyone disperses..

You see, you two have somewhat of an established relationship. Friends with benefits almost, but not quite. Caine is still a firm believer in being "family friendly" even when he has you bent over his desk, praising you for taking him so well.

You waved at Ragatha and smiled at gangle as they both headed in the same direction. Jax took the longest to leave being overly observant of your actions.. but he eventually got bored and seeked out entertainment else where.

You took this chance to finally rush to Caine's quarters. You knocked on the door a few times before turning the knob and peeking your head inside.

"Y/N? Don't be a stranger. Come on inside!" He said , maintaining his usual attitude, but spending so much time with him made you acutely aware that he was forcing it.

You stepped inside and closed the door behind yourself, "Its just me Caine." You reassured him hoping he would drop the facade just a little around you.

"Ah.. yes, and what can I do for you my dear?" He sounded a little nervous, a little agitated.

"Alright, what's going on, Caine? You've been fidgeting with your baton since earlier today .. you look a mess.." You commented, and he you saw his shoulders fall just before he appeared in front of you and grabbed your shoulders, causing you to jump out of surprise.

"Y.. Yes, you are quite perceptive. In simple terms!" He started loud and proud, but his voice dims to a whisper, "I need to taste you, y/n.. It's been so long that .... i've nearly forgotten what you taste like. Isn't that just terrible?" He shook you a little for theatrics.

You flushed, going a little stiff in his hands.

"Was I perhaps too forward?" He said and his grip on your shoulders loosened but you immediately shook your head, grabbing the mans suit jacket to keep him in place.

"No, no.. I'm— well I know how you are about keeping things appropriate, so I wasn't exactly expecting this." You said, and Caine seemed to be staring past you, off into space.

"I see. You're absolutely right!" You about to protest, after all you did want him want to touch you, taste you. It's been a while.

But he picked you up underneath your arm pits as if you weighed absolutely nothing, "W..Wha— Caine?" You sounded a bit alarmed when your feet left the ground.

He took you over to his desk and placed you back on your feet. He gave you a certain look, and you looked at the desk before meeting his wild eyes again. He gave a small nod of confirmation, and you bent yourself over the desk without another question. Your face against the cold wood.. you knew the drill, but— didn't he just agree with your reasoning to not do this?

"Caine, I thought—"

"Yes, y/n and you would be correct!" He cut you off again and got on his knees, "That's why I must make this quick, straight from the source!" He said and yanked down your bottoms to your ankles, and you held couldn't help but squeal as the cold air hit your bare ass.

His large tongue started lapping at your cunt without warning, and you gasped, spreading your legs a little in need. Caine wasn't talking anymore, he was intent on savoring and hopefully committing your taste to memory. His tongue nudged and prodded at your hole, trying to shove his thick tongue past your wet lower lips. The tip of his tongue seemed to get a little smaller, just so he could snake it inside but it was still girthy enough to make it a tight fit.

"Fuck..!" You whined as his tongue seemed to go on forever, reaching deeply inside you.

Caine slapped your thigh as punishment for cursing but didn't stop his assault on your cunt.

To make up for it, he focused more on that senstive bud nestled between your swollen and puffy lower lips, causing your legs to tremble. "Caine.." You whine.

His pants were becoming tighter by the second, but he couldn't give into those desires just yet. This would do. Yes, this would do nicely for the time being. He could think about your taste and the sounds you were making to him satiated until the next time he decided to take you completely.

He gripped your thighs as he felt your insides convulsing around his tongue, keeping you steady and in place as you reached your climax. Calling out his name whilst your sweet juices coats his tongue and throat..

You were leaned over on the desk, panting, and he slowly pulled away from you. But not before lapping up any other mess you or he created in the process.

"My the wonders of you, y/n! My own personal antidote." He adjusted your bottoms back onto your body.

"How are you feeling, dear? That wasn't too much, was it?" He asked, and you shook your head.

"If anything it wasn't enough.." Your eyes trailed to the large tent in his pants and a gloved finger tiped your chin back up to look at him instead.

"Now, now , let's not get too greedy! I can't imagine breaking the rules twice in one day!"

#the amazing digital circus #ask #minors dni #caine x reader #tadc caine #the amazing digital circus caine #caine x reader smut

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johnnieguilbertsgirlfriend · 9 months

Text

embarrassing... (smut) oneshot

SOFT GALLY! (rare occasion tbh)

word count: 0.7k - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - fluff, smut

you hadn't seen your boyfriend all day. he was busy fixing another part of the homestead while he told you to get some wood. while you were grateful he wasn't as tough on you, you didn't mind helping him with his work. moving the logs all day had made your back and shoulder ache. being mentally and physically deprived from exhaustion, you didn't even realize someone behind you. "BOO" he says, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. you let out a scream and then see that it was Gally. "I thought I was gonna die, you scared me so bad," you say while punching his shoulder playfully. he laughed at you, making you scoff a little. "Did you miss me?", he smirks. "Yeah actually, I did." you say, pretending to be sad and giving him puppy eyes. "Well how can I not resist that? Come here." he kisses your forehead and embraces you in a hug, sweeping you off your feet and carrying you to the shared hut.

Gally places you down on the bed, making you wince. your back was hurting so bad from today, so you decided to ask him; "Baby, can you please give me a massage?" he didn't know you felt this miserable, so of course he agreed. you turned over, facing down on the bed. he started on your shoulder and almost immediately, you moaned out of pain. but, it also felt kinda good. the boy was confused and let go, but you reassured him, "Gally it hurts right there, can you do it harder?" he was lucky that you couldn't see how red his face was. "Uh- sure babe." he said. kneading your shoulders out harder from your request. it had gotten worse from there and you couldn't help the strange noises coming out of you. a string of 'ngh, yeah right there' and 'mm fuck Gally please keep going-' was let from your mouth. you squeezed your eyes shut and started gripping the sheets lightly to keep you from squirming at the pain.

the tent in Gally's pants was almost painful for him at this point. as he moved to your back, you practically screamed. "Okay, okay, that's enough I'm good." sighing as you felt alleviated. turning back around, you see him in the chair, quickly hiding his obvious boner. he has a shocked expression as he stumbles to try and leave the room, saying "I-I have to go-" you smirk, "Gally. You did something for me, it's only fair if I return the favor.." you get up from the bed, insisting he lays down on it. you climb on top of him, straddling his body and give him a peck on the lips. you take off his shirt and start trailing little kisses from his neck down to his v line.

"Can I take these off?" you ask, he hurriedly nods his head, eager for your touch. you pull his pants down, leaving him in underwear. wanting to tease him a little, you grind on him still fully clothed. "Don't tease me Y/N, please" you take his boxers off as you take in his length, it always manages to shock you. you grab his member, slowly jacking him off as you kitten lick his tip. he groans out, giving you motivation to make him feel good. you licked a long strip up his shaft, taking in as much as you can in your mouth, your hands touch what you couldn't. "Fuckk Y/N-" he moans out, which surprised you as he was never the vocal type. he grabs a fist full of your hair, pushing you down deeper. Gally loved how beautiful you looked, sucking him off. he rolled his eyes back into his head, "Holy shit- you know how much your voice turns me on Y/N?" this made you look up at him, still bobbing your head. "Just the way you look at me", he forces you down even deeper. "'m so good that you're only mine." that sentence makes you moan on his dick, sending vibrations that brought him to the edge as he groaned and came in your mouth. you jacked him off the rest of the way so most of the cum would be on your hands and face.

"I love taking care of you." you smiled at the boy.

"You look so pretty with my cum all over your face, I should give you massages more often." he smirked.

"Way to ruin the moment, Gal."

remember this is all on my wattpad <3 (link in bio)

#willpoulter #will poulter smut #gally maze runner #gally x reader #gally smut #maze runner gally #will poulter x reader #maze runner gally smut #tmr gally #gally x y/n #gally x reader smut #the maze runner #will poulter x reader smut #gally x y/n smut

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scary-grace · 23 days

Text

the new postmodern age (chapter 3) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Written for @threadbaresweater's follower milestone event, and the prompt 'a day at the beach'! Congratulations on the milestone, and thanks for giving me a chance to write this fic.

dividers by @enchanthings

Before the war, you were nothing but a common criminal, but in the world that's arisen from the ashes, you got a second chance. Five years after the final battle between the heroes and the League of Villains, you run a coffee shop in a quiet seaside town, and you're devoted to keeping your customers happy. Even customers like Shimura Tenko, who needs a second chance even more than you did -- and who's harboring a secret that could upend everything you've tried to build. Will you let the past drag both of you down? Or will you find a way, against all odds, to a new beginning? (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapters: 1 2

Chapter 3

Tenko doesn’t come to the café the next day. He doesn’t text you back, or answer your call, but you know he hasn’t blocked you because your messages get delivered. That’s a relief, but not much of one. He doesn’t have his laptop, so he can’t work. What’s he doing today? What happened to him? Is he all right?

It should disturb you that the latter question matters more to you than the others, mattered more than the fact that you slept with a customer and the fact that he’s apparently a supervillain in disguise. It’s the supervillain part that should overwhelm everything else – but you’ve spent the last five years living by the principle of judging people on who they are now, not what they were in the past. You can’t drop that principle now. Not with how you feel about Tenko. Not with what you saw him do.

You keep up a happy face at work, like always – there’s no such thing as a bad day for a reformed criminal, you should remember that you’re lucky to have gotten a second chance – but beneath the surface, you’re in turmoil. You save a babka for Tenko, but you know deep in your heart that he’s not coming in today. If you want to give him his stuff back, you’re going to have to go to him.

You don’t know where he lives, but you have enough information to figure it out. During the afternoon, as the steady stream of customers trails to a stop, you collect what you know – the exact time Tenko’s power went out, the list of outage alerts the town posted, naming the exact time and the affected neighborhood. When you match Tenko’s text to the outage alerts, you see that he lives in a lightly populated neighborhood on the edge of town, so far out that you’re surprised he didn’t lose power sooner. It’ll be a long walk from your café, but the weather is nice, and it’ll be a while before the sun sets. When five o’clock comes, you close up shop, package the babka to take with you, settle Tenko’s backpack on your shoulders, and set off.

You try to get your head in the game as you walk. Tenko probably thinks you’ve guessed who he is. That’s probably why he left. You’re not just dealing with a customer you slept with; you’re dealing with an undercover supervillain whose identity’s just been revealed. You need to be careful going in there. You don’t know what kind of mood he’s in. You don’t even know if he’ll want to see you. If your positions were switched, would you want to see him?

You would. You’d want to know you still mattered to him, and you’d want what you’ve always wanted – for someone to come find you, to make sure you’re okay. Even if it’s the last thing Tenko wants, you have to try.

Tenko’s neighborhood is sparsely populated, and of the houses there, you rule out most of them immediately – they were built three years ago, and you can’t imagine Tenko moving once he got here. One house is way too big, a fancy lodge used for weddings and corporate retreats. It leaves exactly one place. A house set back in the woods, away from the shore, serviced by a dirt road and barely visible through the trees.

It looks like the kind of place people go to get murdered. If you were a normal person, you’d think twice about going down that road. But you hung out in scarier places than this when you were a criminal, and unlike back then, you have at least some idea of what’s waiting for you in there. You pick your way down the dirt road, skirting the overgrown patches on your way up to the front door. Almost immediately you notice that something’s wrong. The doorknob’s completely gone, as if it’s just crumbled away.

You swallow hard and knock on the door. It sways slightly in place. “Tenko?” When there’s no response, you try again, without the knock. “You left your backpack and laptop at my house. Can I come in?”

“Leave it there.”

As fast as your heart leaped at hearing his voice, it sinks again at his words. But you did what you wanted to do. You checked on him, and you brought him his things, and you don’t want to stay where you’re not wanted. “Okay,” you say. You slide his backpack from your shoulders and set it down carefully on the steps. You put the babka next to it. “Um – you’ve got my number, if you want to talk. I want to talk to you, but I understand if you don’t. I just wanted to see if you were okay.”

You turn away and start down the path, your eyes stinging, blinking hard. You think you hear the door open, but you don’t look back – but when your phone buzzes, you yank it out of your pocket in record time. The text is from Tenko. come in if you want to

The relief that sweeps over you feels too strong. You turn around without texting back, gathering up the backpack and the babka before pushing open the door. Tenko’s house is dim, the curtains pulled shut. His TV is muted with a screen full of static. You can’t see him, but you can hear the dry sound of his fingernails against the side of his neck. His voice is flat. “Why are you here?”

“I was kind of shaken up after what happened yesterday. I thought you might be, too.” You take a few cautious steps forward. “I was worried.”

“Don’t lie.” The kitchen is empty. So is the bathroom, and the bedroom when you peer through the door. “You saw. You know.”

His breathing rattles ever so slightly. “Why are you here?”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” you say. “I like you.”

“You sure about that?” Tenko’s voice takes on a mocking note. “I think you’re just here to see if it really was a villain you fucked.”

“I don’t –”

“Don’t say you don’t care about it. You do.” Tenko won’t even let you finish the sentence. “It’s all you care about now, so take a look.”

He’s been sprawled out on the couch, but now he stands up. Hood down, mask off, and it’s perfectly clear who you’re looking at. Shigaraki Tomura turned to dust on the battlefield, but he’s here right now, in the living room of a house that’s falling apart. He stares at you, and you remember a thousand still photos, a thousand news broadcasts, all capturing the same light of madness glowing in his eyes. There’s no such thing there now. Whatever drove Shigaraki Tomura onwards, fighting to destroy until his last breath, isn’t there anymore. It’s easy for you to hold his gaze.

He’s the first to look away, his jaw clenched. “What were you expecting me to do?” you ask. “Scream and run away?”

“Call the cops. Or the heroes.” His shoulders lift, the fall. “Maybe the press. You can tell them all about your one crazy night with the villain who came back from the dead.”

“I didn’t want it to be just one night,” you say. He looks at you, then looks away. “I still don’t.”

“Yeah. I guess your tell-all with the press will be more exciting if we fuck a few more times.”

“Hey,” you snap. “If you’re waiting for me to freak out, stop waiting. It’s not going to happen.”

“You’re out of your mind.” He’s turned most of the way away from you now. One hand is clawing at his neck. The other’s up over his face. “Were you under a rock during the war? Did you see what I did?”

“I saw,” you say carefully. “I know what you did. I know that’s the person you were. I know that’s not who you are now. I make decisions based on the person I see in front of me, not by who they were before – as long as they’re trying to be someone different.”

“You think I’m different?” He laughs. At least, you think it’s laughter. You need it to be laughter, because if it isn’t, it’s the worst sound you’ve ever heard. “You must be high.”

“I’m not.” You keep watching him. “You could have let that kid drown yesterday. My quirk couldn’t have saved him, and my plan was even worse. No one would have known the truth except you, and maybe you could have lived with that. I don’t know.”

You’re half expecting him to interrupt and tell you that he can, that it’s easy. He stays quiet. “You decided to save him, though. Even though it could mess things up for you. Even if it meant people might find out who you used to be. I know what you did before. I like who you are.”

It’s silent. He scratches one more time at his neck, a hard, sharp dig that draws blood. Then his hand falls away. “What did you tell the cops?”

“It wasn’t a cop thing. Just EMS and the fire department,” you say. You wonder if that will make him feel better. “The kid was unconscious by the time you got rid of the log. He didn’t see anything. I told them a wave came up and moved the log enough for me and him to get free.”

“And they believed you?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t they?” You’re a criminal who used to lie on the regular. You know when someone’s bought your story. “When the kid woke up, he remembered I was there, but not you. You’re safe.”

He doesn’t say anything. You figure he’ll kick you out if he wants you gone and stay put. Some part of you is desperate to find out what happened, how he came back from the dead, how he ended up here instead of in prison forever. The rest of you doesn’t care very much. The ideals you’ve lived by for the past five years won’t let you care, and even if they did, you wouldn’t want to. In some ways, it reminds you of how you feel about the Day of Peace. Not forgetting the awful things that happened. Being thankful for what’s there now.

You’re hoping he’ll break the silence, and you get lucky, sort of. “My couch is disgusting,” he says. “You can sit down if you want.”

You wait for him to sit down, then join him, setting the backpack down at his feet and passing the babka his way. He stares down at it blankly, like he’s never seen it before. “You like me.”

“Yeah.” You watch as he pulls off a piece and eats it. “Should I keep calling you Tenko? Or do you want –”

“Tenko.” He peels off another strip of pastry. “Sensei gave me the other name. It died with him. And me.”

You don’t know what to say to that. You look down at your hands in your lap and remember Tenko’s gloved fingers laced with yours, your fingers closed around his wrist as you rode him. “You’ve got questions, right?” Tenko says. You nod. “Ask.”

“I do want to know what happened,” you admit. “I mean, you died.”

“Wasn’t the first time.” Tenko shreds another piece from the babka and eats it. “The heroes had this kid who could Rewind people. Turn back the clocks on their bodies. I guess there was enough dust left for it to work on me.”

Tenko tells you that the heroes Rewound him as far as possible, but they couldn’t go back all the way – just to the point before All For One’s quirk was transplanted into him. After that, they used quirk-canceling bullets to erase his quirks one at a time. Tenko was kept in a secret facility for four months, almost dead to the world but not quite, while the world he meant to destroy began to rebuild itself. The heroes ran out of bullets before Tenko ran out of quirks. When they were finish, he only had one left – Decay. Tenko tells you between bites of babka, then leans back against the couch. “They woke me up after that.”

“They?”

“It was All Might’s idea,” Tenko says. His eyes are closed. “He couldn’t give up on saving me, and he dragged Midoriya in on it, too. They told me about the new laws that were being passed and their plans to help my friends, and then they said it would only work if I stayed dead.”

Todoroki Touya’s words cross your mind: Deku made him a martyr. “Everybody else was redeemable,” Tenko says, “but not me. After what I did, nobody cared about how I got there. I’d rot in prison for the rest of my life, and knowing I was still out there would remind everybody that evil really exists. Me being alive was going to undermine their push to get villains recognized as people, and it was going to screw my friends over. What I did – it was never just for me. It was always for them.”

You think about the first six months after the war. The question of what to do with the surviving members of the League loomed over everyone, and Deku was right in the middle of it, insisting that they deserved a second chance. That everyone deserved a second chance. He swore up and down that villains aren’t born evil, that it’s about choices, and more than that, about chances. And everyone was in a softer mood knowing that the greatest threat to Japan, to the world, was gone. Shigaraki’s death made people feel safer. Knowing he was still alive would have put a bullet through any chance of reform. “So you agreed?”

“They weren’t asking,” Tenko says. “Their plan was for me to live. No rehab, no charges, nothing. They gave me a new identity and a job and money so I could pay rent somewhere. I can’t be found out or it’ll ruin everything. I can’t let my friends know I’m alive or it’ll ruin everything. I dye my hair and wear that stupid mask and hide in plain sight, and I’m supposed to do that forever. And live a happy life.”

His voice takes on a flat, bitter note. “Half the time I wish they’d let me stay dead for real.”

You’ve never found yourself in anything like Tenko’s situation. You never will. But you know that feeling – of waking up every morning and wishing you hadn’t, of dragging yourself through each day with no purpose and nothing to look forward to, no hope that anything would change. Nobody ever made you feel better by telling you how much you had to live for. You touch Tenko’s shoulder lightly to warn him, then wrap your arms around him in a tight but awkward hug from the side, your cheek pressed against his shoulder. Tenko’s hand comes up to grasp your wrist, and for a moment you think he’ll pull you away, or worse. But his hands are still gloved. All he does is hold on.

“This is your fault,” he mumbles after a while. “You and your stupid free WiFi.”

You manage something like a laugh. “What did my WiFi ever do to you?”

“It’s better than mine,” Tenko says. “I had a reason to go somewhere. And somewhere to go.”

Your throat closes off in an instant. That was what you wanted this whole time. Even if it was what you had in mind when you opened the café, when you added the internet, you never expected it to work on the person who used to be Shigaraki Tomura. So many things happened because he stopped by that day, and not all of them were because of you – he’s the one who kept coming in, the one who kept talking to you, the one who asked if he could come over two nights ago. You remember what Tenko said after the power went out, about wanting to find out if living differently would work. You wonder what he thinks the answer is.

“Do you like me?” Tenko asks, and you nod. “Do you still like me?”

“Yes.” You’ll probably get tired of that question at some point, but maybe you can get Tenko to a point where he doesn’t need to ask before that happens. “It’s getting late, though. And I’ve got an early morning.”

“So you need to go.” Tenko’s voice is dull.

“Probably,” you say. “You can come too, if you want.”

“You really want a supervillain in your house?”

“You let a convicted felon into your house,” you point out. “We’re sort of even.”

Tenko shakes his head. “Not even close to even.”

“I’ve done more time than you have,” you point out, and Tenko snorts. “Come on. Grab what you need and let’s get out of here.”

You let go of Tenko to get to your feet, then hold out your hands to help him up. He doesn’t let go once he’s standing. “I like you, too,” he says. “You know, right?”

You nod. “If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have let me in.”

Tenko studies you, and you look back at him. You have the whole picture now, or close enough to it. Even knowing what you know, you like what you see. You lean forward, rising on your toes to kiss him, and when he kisses you back, you taste chocolate and cinnamon on his lips. You’re still tasting it as the two of you walk back to your apartment, hand in hand.

You haven’t worn a dress in a while, and you’ve worn a formal dress maybe never. It’s really uncomfortable. So are your shoes – low heels, but heels nonetheless, and even the scant makeup you’ve put on feels like a mistake. You really don’t want anybody to see you like this, but you promised you’d show at least one person. You snap a selfie and send it to Tenko. I hate this outfit.

i’ll decay it for you if you’re still wearing it when you get back. Tenko texts back right away. He usually does. when are you coming back?

You got a hotel room, but only so you could have somewhere to change clothes. You’re not planning on sleeping over. Tonight, on the last train.

good. The typing bubble hovers for long seconds. you look hot. don’t hook up with any heroes.

As if. You roll your eyes. Don’t worry. I only date people who’ve done time.

What you and Tenko are doing isn’t dating. To you, dating means something casual, and it isn’t casual – not when you basically live together, not when he calls you his girlfriend, not when he pays for half the groceries and inexpertly folds the laundry and spends every night wrapped around you whether you’ve had sex or not. It’s serious to him, and it’s serious to you. The kind of serious where if you got invited to an important event, you’d ask for a plus-one if you didn’t have one already.

You got a plus-one for this event, but it’s not one you can take Tenko to. For a gala celebrating the reauthorization of every criminal justice reform bill passed at the end of the war, it’s safest for you to go alone.

You gave testimony this afternoon before the vote – you, aided and abetted by your probation officer, who was able to show hard data on what you’ve accomplished, as well as share five years of survey responses from the people in your town, which displayed a marked positive trend in their perception of former criminals. You got to hear other program participants and their probation officers testify, too, and their results were similar to yours. The NCRA is working as intended. It’s working well enough that the government decided to expand it. During the next cycle, accomplices to violent crimes will be eligible, too.

Present Mic’s nomination of you for early release from the program was accepted. They’re going to clear your record gradually, starting with your earliest convictions, which means that although you’ll be hanging onto your felony conviction for another five years, your record will be clear before you’re thirty-five. The bigger deal to you is the forgiveness of the interest on your startup loan. Now all you have left to do is pay off the original balance, and you can do that by the end of the year. And you get to take down the sign in your window informing everybody that you’re part of the NCRA.

You don’t plan to do that. You plan to leave it up, and to keep answering people who ask questions, as long as it takes for offering second chances to become the norm rather than the exception. If you can change even one person’s mind, give even one person a shred of hope, it’ll be worth it. It already is.

Tenko texts you back, after laugh-reacting to your message. are any of them going to be there?

Spinner and Toga were at the hearing. You send a thumbs-up, and Tenko responds. if you can talk to them without getting in trouble, find out how they are.

Definitely. A thought crosses your mind. Is there anything you want me to tell them?

i can’t talk to them

Could they talk to you, you ask. If they knew you were alive?

i guess. but they don’t so it doesn’t matter

Huh. You need to think about this, but you’ve got to go. You’re going to be late. You text Tenko a quick heart emoji, then stuff your phone in your purse and hurry out the door.

You’re the only person in formal wear on the Shinkansen, and you make yourself even more conspicuous when you start changing the color of your dress, trying to make it look even slightly better. By the time you get off the train, you’ve created some kind of nightmarish watercolor effect that will draw more attention to your dress than your face. You decide that’s as good as it’s going to get and meet up with your probation officer just inside the venue.

Present Mic greets you with a grin. “Hey, now that’s a look!” he pronounces. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” you say. “It’s kind of unreal.”

“You earned it,” Mic says. “Congratulations, listener. How would you feel about not being a listener anymore?”

That’s right – now that you’re off probation, you won’t need a probation officer. You won’t see Mic again. The thought makes you sad, even if it’ll decrease Tenko’s stress levels by a factor of twelve. “Because I was thinking,” Mic continues, “you’ve got a pretty good story here. Why not guest-star on my show and tell it?”

You cough. Mic snags a drink off a passing tray and hands it to you, all while making his sales pitch at full volume. “I mean, they just made a whole new group of people eligible for the NCRA. Who better to spread the word than one of the originals?”

One of the originals. That’s you, isn’t it? You were on mental health watch in an overcrowded jail when you first heard the news, and you showed your first signs of life in days in your efforts to find out more. You swallow some of your drink – it’s alcoholic, but only lightly – and Mic keeps talking. “You’ve been a good example for the civilians. Why not be a role model for other criminals, too?”

“I don’t think I’m a role model,” you say hastily. “But, um – if you wanted me to come on and talk about how the whole thing works, then I will.”

“Nice. My people will call your people and set something up!” Mic cackles at his own joke. “Finish that and let’s go. I’ve got some people I want you to meet!”

You have no idea who he could be talking about, but you get two nasty shocks one after the other – first, that Mic is married to Eraserhead, and second, that he brought Eraserhead as his plus-one. You probably should have been better prepared for the possibility of running into someone who captured you, because every hero you run into is someone who captured you. Or who didn’t capture you, given that you also meet Endeavor, and he pretends the two of you have never met. Almost every hero you’re introduced to is someone who faced Shigaraki Tomura in battle, who was injured at his hands. People who observe the Day of Peace the other way.

Mic finally runs out of people to introduce you to and you earn a temporary reprieve, which you use to sit down. You spend all day at work on your feet, but at work you’re not wearing heels. You lift your feet partway out of your shoes, hoping you’re subtle about it, and dig your phone out of your purse. Tenko’s been texting you. The first text is a photo of the biggest, ugliest spider you’ve ever seen – on the floor, in your kitchen. The next is a picture of the kitchen floor, empty. don’t worry I took it outside

You and Tenko have talked about this. You try to take them outside, but you aren’t mad at him if he kills them. His next text makes less sense: I changed my mind.

About what? The typing bubble is up, promising another message and probably a clarification, but you hear a familiar voice nearby, and you’re pretty sure it’s someone Tenko wanted you to check on. You look up, and sure enough, it’s Spinner. The woman he’s talking to has a familiar voice, too. Neither of them sound very happy.

“I had to rent this thing,” Spinner is saying despairingly. “When it comes back looking like this –”

“Maybe it’ll fade?” the woman pipes up. “I’m so sorry. If I hadn’t tripped –”

“It’s not you. And it’s not gonna fade.” Spinner sounds even mopier than before. “They’re going to call my probation officer and I’m going to get busted –”

“Over a stain?”

You know an in when you hear it. You slide your feet reluctantly back into your shoes, get to your feet, and make your way over. There’s Spinner, a big red-wine stain blooming on his white shirt. The woman next to him is tiny, maroon-haired, and holding an empty glass. She looks familiar, but you’re not sure from where. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” you start, “but if the stain is the problem, maybe I can help. My quirk –”

“You’re the color girl!” The short woman’s eyes brighten. “Oh, I was hoping we’d run into you! We –”

“If you fix it, will it stay that way?” Spinner asks. “If it goes back later, they’ll think I lied to them.”

“It’ll stay,” you promise. You extend one hand to touch the shirt and change it back to white, setting the color to stay from now until the heat death of the universe. “There. Good as new.”

“Thanks,” Spinner says, embarrassed. He takes a second look at you. “I saw you at the vigil this year.”

“I go every year,” you say. “I would have said something, but you and the others never look like you want to talk.”

If you go next year, you’ll be in the same boat as Deku – wanting to tell them that their friend’s alive, unable to say a word about it. “Yeah, we really don’t,” Spinner says. “Nobody gets it. They can’t, since they never knew him like we did.”

You nod. Your phone buzzes in your purse and you ignore it. You really should have silenced it before you got to the party. “I’m so glad you could fix Shuichi’s shirt,” the short woman says. “He was so stressed. But I wanted to talk to you, too! I’m Aiba Manami.”

That’s where you know her from. “La Brava?”

“That was me.” She smiles slightly, sadly. “I don’t remember your villain name –”

“I didn’t have one,” you say. “And if we met in lockup or something, I’m sorry I don’t remember. I was kind of – out of it.”

“Oh, we didn’t meet! Don’t worry,” Aiba rushes to reassure you. “It’s more just that I – um –”

She breaks off. “She’s not gonna laugh at you,” Spinner says to Aiba. “Just tell her.”

“So, um –” Aiba looks down at her shoes, which match her dress. And her earrings. Her whole look is way more on point than anything you’ve ever worn in your life. “I’m eligible for the NCRA now.”

“Congratulations,” you say at once. You could have sworn you heard that La Brava and Gentle Criminal were pardoned after the war, but they must have pulled something else. “Job training?”

“She’s got that. She’s great with computers,” Spinner says, almost proudly. Something dawns on you. “She’s got a better idea.”

“I want to open up an internet café,” Aiba says. You try to hide the goofy grin that crosses your face and probably fail. “I could set up the network in an afternoon. But I don’t know anything about running a restaurant.”

“Neither did I when I got started,” you say. Looking back, you’re amazed you had the guts to throw yourself into a business where the margins are so tight. “If you get a space that’s already up to code it’ll be even easier. I had to do a ton of renovation before I could even think about buying equipment.”

“Did your loan cover all of that?”

You nod. You know you’re getting way too hyped, but it’s hard not to talk about something that saved your life with a ridiculous amount of enthusiasm. “Part of the deal is justifying all your expenses. Your probation officer will review them to make sure you’re staying focused, and if they see a reason to give a little extra, they will – or at least mine did. That becomes more to pay back, though, so it helps to be careful. Do you know what kind of food you want to have? Or are you just planning to do coffee? Coffee keeps costs down but it’s also faster, so if you’re charging by the hour for internet access –”

“I kind of don’t want to do that,” Aiba says. You blink. “You said yours is free.”

“It is,” you admit, “but I didn’t add it until five years in, when I already had a customer base. Adding it when I did just picked up some people who hadn’t stopped by yet.”

Like Tenko. Every so often he makes a joke about being lured in by the free WiFi and winding up with a coffee addiction, a pastry addiction, and a girlfriend. Aiba looks a little disappointed, and you feel a surge of guilt. “The thing is, I was starting out under different conditions than you’ll be. You had name recognition as a villain, and an iconic look – I mean, you still do. People will come in just to see what you’ve got going on. So you’ve already got some customers there. The trick will be getting them to stick around.”

Aiba nods. She also grabs Spinner’s hand, and you blurt out the question before you can think about whether it’s a good idea. “Are you two together? I thought you and Gentle Criminal were a thing.”

“Me and Gentle love each other a lot,” Aiba says. Spinner looks like he’s doing okay with someone who you’re pretty sure is his girlfriend talking about how much she loves some other guy. “We just don’t love each other like that anymore.”

“They still talk all the time,” Spinner says. “He came along on our first date to supervise.”

“Poor Shuichi,” Aiba giggles. “He thought we were trying to make him our third.”

So Spinner’s dating. And unlike Todoroki Touya, he hasn’t broken his probation. You know Tenko will want to know more. “How are you doing? I don’t know what your terms are like, but I’m guessing they’re strict.”

“Pretty strict, but my PO is pretty fair,” Spinner says. His PO is Ryukyu, if you remember right. “Since I don’t screw around like Dabi does, I get to travel in-country and stuff. As long as I clear it far enough in advance.”

“We’ve been meaning to take a trip,” Aiba says, and you get a hit of inspiration. “We just can’t decide where to go.”

This time you’ve made a decision to speak, so it doesn’t count as blurting out. Or so you tell yourself. “My café is on the coast. Why don’t you come out there? It’s really nice this time of year, and if you wanted to stop by the café, I could show you the setup and bookkeeping and everything.”

Aiba’s eyes brighten. Spinner looks less sure. “How do they feel about heteromorphs around there?”

“I think it’s on the safe list. A customer told me that one time.” You watch as Spinner pulls out his phone to check for himself. “I definitely don’t want to boss you guys around. But if you’re serious –”

“I am!”

“Then I want to help as much as I can,” you say. “You’re welcome to swing by.”

Spinner looks up from his phone. “It’s on the safe list,” he reports, and Aiba beams. “When do you want to go?”

They decide on two weeks out, and you suggest that they show up on your last open day of the week, so you can show Aiba what a full week’s expenses, documentation, and income look like. You give them both your number so they can text for recommendations about where to stay, a weird anticipatory feeling humming with in you. This could work. You know Tenko misses his friends, but he can’t contact them himself. But if they just happen to run into each other –

It could work. You want it to work. Your phone buzzes with texts as Aiba and Spinner tuck theirs away. You can make this work for Tenko.

“Spinner!” someone calls out. You look up and see Deku waving from across the room. “Hi!”

“Shit, not him,” Spinner mumbles. “I don’t wanna do this right now.”

“I could pretend to faint,” Aiba suggests.

“No, he won’t buy that. I just –”

You remember the conversation you overheard at the vigil. Spinner has a lot of good reasons not to want to talk to Deku. “Pretend you’re getting sick. I’ll run interference and you can make a break for it.”

“Thanks,” Spinner says. Aiba’s already acting woozy. “It was nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, see you soon.” You set off across the room and intercept Deku before he’s halfway there. “Hi! I don’t know if you remember me, but we talked at –”

“The vigil! Of course I remember!” Deku smiles. “I was wondering if you’d be here. Congratulations!”

“Thanks,” you say. You feel a little weird being congratulated for being a civilian again when you’ve just been engaging in some lowkey villain behavior. “I wanted to come thank you in person. If you hadn’t been advocating for this stuff, I don’t think there’s any way it would have passed.”

Deku’s smile softens, saddens. “I can’t be a hero anymore. This is the next best thing, right?”

“You could look at it like that,” you say. “Or maybe you it’s that you can save more people this way than you ever could have working as a regular hero.”

“People say that to me a lot,” Deku says, and you cringe. “But it’s not usually people like you saying it.”

People like you. People whose lives changed because of the initiative Deku spearheaded, which he only took on because he failed to save Shigaraki Tomura. “It’s easier to believe from you,” Deku concludes. “I just wish I knew what he thinks of it all.”

You know exactly what Tenko thinks about it. He thinks you have to do too much stupid paperwork. He doesn’t like that the hero who monitors you is someone whose quirk is way outsized for your power set. He thinks it’s dumb that the only reason you stopped going to therapy even though, to quote, “you still have issues”, is because you knew the heroes were reading all the notes on what you said. And at the same time, you know he’s glad you opened the café. You know he’s glad he met you. And it wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t let Deku and All Might fake his death, and if Deku hadn’t made it count.

Deku sighs. “I know I can’t,” he says. You really have to admire the coverup here – anybody who hears Deku express his feelings about Shigaraki will think he’s just really fixated on how Shigaraki’s doing in the afterlife. They’ll never guess that he’s really talking about Tenko, who’s alive and well and living in your apartment. “So I’ll think about it your way.”

“Okay,” you say. “Works for me.”

The two of you smile awkwardly at one another. Then Deku changes the subject. “Have you seen Spinner? I thought he was over there, and I wanted to –”

“I think he just went to get some air,” you say. “It’s a lot in here. I bet he’ll be back.”

Deku nods and hurries off, and you take a second to catch your breath. Tonight’s been a lot, but all in all you think it was a success. You didn’t look stupid in your dress, or if you did, no one said anything about it. You’re going to get to help out somebody who wants to join the NCRA. You got at least a little bit of the point across to Deku about what he’s done since the end of the war. And you set up a chance for Tenko to see his best friend again.

Tenko was texting you, wasn’t he? He was saying he’d changed his mind about something. You unearth your phone and swipe past the texts from unfamiliar numbers identifying themselves as Aiba Manami and Spinner to reach Tenko’s text thread. Spider, no spider, didn’t kill it, changed his mind – but now there’s follow-up. Follow-up you really should have taken the time to read before going to talk to Spinner.

don’t try to talk to him. Tenko’s serious enough to use punctuation, which means it’s as serious as he ever gets. i don’t want to fuck him up and i don’t want to find out i faked my own death for nothing.

You cringe in horror. You’re going to have a lot of explaining to do when you get home.

“This is crazy,” Tenko says. “You know it’s crazy, right?”

“You don’t have to do anything. You don’t even have to be there,” you say. You’re amazed Tenko is awake this early – usually he sleeps in when you go to work – but he’s here, leaning against the counter while you go through your opening checklist and yawning behind his mask. “It’s up to you if you want to talk to him or not.”

“He’s gonna be pissed at me.” Tenko slouches. “This fake-my-death shit – we were friends. I’d be pissed in his spot.”

“He and Toga both said they missed you,” you counter. You remember their sadness at the vigil and feel a distant ache in your heart. “Maybe he’ll be pissed at first, but then I bet he’ll be happy.”

“I can’t believe he has a girlfriend,” Tenko says. “One time he got his ass kicked because the hero he was fighting told him he was her type.”

You wonder what Spinner’s going to say when he finds out Tenko has a girlfriend. If he finds out. If Tenko decides to reveal himself. It’s the day Spinner and Aiba are supposed to get here, and you still have no idea what he’s going to choose.

Tenko wasn’t happy when you got home from the gala and came clean about what happened. He wasn’t angry, either – not when you told him you talked to Spinner, not when he found out you invited Aiba to come check out the café. The word you’d use was confused. Confused as to why you’d set up a way for he and Spinner to meet again. It could mess everything up, you remember him saying. Why would you risk that?

It doesn’t have to mess everything up.

Tenko shook his head. Aren’t you worried I’ll go back to it?

To being a villain? No. You and Tenko were sprawled out on the couch together. He’d yanked you down into his lap the instant you came close enough. When I was still on the other side of the law, I didn’t have friends, or allies. Most common criminals don’t. But you did. We all knew about the League, and how close you were. I used to think about how nice that would be.

You were understating it a little bit. You were jealous of the League’s closeness, of how clearly and obviously they cared about one another. The crowd you ran with was more likely to stab each other in the back than help each other out. I want you to have that again, you continued. If you want it.

Tenko didn’t answer you then. He just kissed you, and then the two of you made out on the couch until you fell asleep. The two of you have talked about it almost every day since then, and Tenko still hasn’t made up his mind. And it’s okay. He’s got until Spinner walks out the door to decide.

Osono knocks on the door, towing the pastry cart, and you abandon the opening checklist to hold it open for her. “I’ve got some new seasonal items today,” she says. “Mostly fruit – strawberries, peaches, that kind of thing. And – huh. What’s he doing here?”

She’s pointing at Tenko, who was taste-testing your flavored syrups until a split second ago. He ducks down behind the counter and vanishes from view. Osono stares. “Was that Shimura?”

“Yes,” you say. Osono raises her eyebrows. “We’re seeing each other.”

Seeing him is kind of understating it. He basically lives in your apartment and you’re pretty sure you’re in love with him. Osono’s eyebrows lift even further. “Since when?”

“Since –” You count back in your head. “Two months ago. Are there any allergens in the new pastries? I’m assuming they aren’t vegan.”

One of them’s vegan. You make a special label for it, and Osono helps you arrange the new pastries in the case, while Tenko stays hidden behind the counter even though she’s already seen him. The one time she comments on his presence is when he steals a pastry off the tray before she can put it in the case. “So you’re the one who’s been eating all the babka.”

“Mmph.” Tenko’s mouth is too full to respond, and once he’s swallowed the monster bite he took, he looks at you. “I can pay for that.”

“Just buy milk the next time we go grocery shopping. That’ll cover it.”

It’s not until Osono’s left that Tenko emerges from behind the counter. He’s grimacing. “That was stupid.”

“Telling her?”

“Hiding from her. Now she’s going to tell everyone that you’re shacking up with a freak.”

“She just knows we’re dating,” you say. “I didn’t say anything about living together.”

“Yeah, not until you mentioned us buying groceries.” To his credit, Tenko doesn’t call you a moron over it. “I don’t give a shit what they say about me. It matters what they say about you. Do you really –”

“Yes.” You kiss Tenko’s cheek over the mask. “And I still like you.”

Tenko’s voice is muffled. “I like you, too.”

It’s a busy day at the café. Tourist season is in full swing and the weather is bright and warm, which means everybody wants a blended drink and nobody wants to stay inside the café to drink it. You have four or five blenders going at a time, loud enough to partially deafen you but with enough capacity to keep you from falling behind on orders. You barely have any time to talk to Tenko, but he’s keeping busy, too – in the same spot as always, looking over the decision tree for a computer game. You’re not sure, but you think it might be the game he wants to make.

Spinner and Aiba show up just before closing, when you’re still swamped. You can’t even see Aiba – she’s that short – and Spinner calls out to you instead. “We’re gonna check out the beach for half an hour and come back”

“Sounds good,” you holler back over the sound of the blenders. Half an hour. You can clear the customers out, get your paperwork in order, and give Tenko some warning of what’s to come.

The nice weather’s worked in your favor all day, and it keeps working in your favor – you don’t have any trouble shooing out the customers once they’ve got their drinks. You flip the sign on the door to closed, drop all but two of the blenders in the dishwasher, and go to check on Tenko. He’s working hard at something, and you don’t want to interrupt. You sit down across from him and tap his foot under the table to let him know you’re there.

He looks up. “Did they leave?”

“For a little bit. They’ll be back soon.” You watch as Tenko pulls down his mask, unhooks it from over one ear. “How are you feeling?”

“If it happens, it happens,” Tenko says. “I’m not going to talk to him. But I’m not going to hide, either.”

“Okay,” you say. “I won’t mess around with it, either.”

“Any more than you already messed around with it.” Tenko kicks you lightly under the table, but he’s half-smiling at the same time. “I like having the choice. Didn’t get a lot of those before.”

“I know.” You hold out your hands for his, and Tenko gives them to you so you can raise them to your lips. He’s wearing his gloves, like almost always. “I –”

The bell rings, and both of you jump. It’s probably a good thing it cuts you off, because you have no idea what you were going to say next. Tenko’s grip on your hands tightens, and you kiss his knuckles again before standing up and hurrying to the door. Spinner and Aiba are out there, looking windswept but happy. “Come on in,” you say. “Do either of you want a drink?”

“Something cold,” Aiba says, and Spinner nods in agreement. “Do you have blended drinks?”

“Definitely.” You left two blenders out for precisely that reason. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Tenko’s arm pop up, giving you a thumbs-up. He wants one, too.

Since you know which one he wants, you start with his first, while your guests study the menu. Aiba’s eyeing the fruit flavors, but Spinner’s watching you. “Who’s that for?”

You could lie. But you’re keeping up appearances as usual, not making anything happen that shouldn’t, and if anyone else was asking, you’d answer honestly. “I have one person still hanging out back there. It’s for him.”

“I thought you were closed,” Aiba says. “Do you usually let people stay past closing time?”

“No. But he’s my boyfriend,” you say, “so it’s different.”

“Do you give him free stuff?”

“If he behaves,” you say. Tenko leans out from the booth to glare at you, and you struggle to keep a straight face. “Which he does.”

“If I gave you free stuff, would you stick around my café?” Aiba asks Spinner.

“No, I’d pay for stuff,” Spinner argues. “I don’t want to, like – grift, or something. Or take stuff away from people who will pay.”

Aiba frowns. “What if I want to give you free stuff?”

“I have a little room in my budget for stuff like that,” you say. “I’ll show it to you when we go over the expenses and stuff. Have you decided what you want yet?”

Aiba opts for white chocolate and strawberry. Spinner points at the drink you’re pouring into a cup for Tenko. “Can I get whatever that is?”

“Sure. And you can sit down wherever,” you say. “There’s no password on the WiFi, so knock yourself out. I’m just going to bring this one to my boyfriend, and then I’ll be right back to start yours.”

“I can take it to him,” Spinner says. Your heart lurches, and you shake your head, but Spinner’s already holding out his hand. “Seriously. If he won’t come up to get it himself –”

“Are you modeling good behavior? That’s so cute!” Aiba actually has to jump up to plant a kiss on Spinner’s cheek. She looks at you, grinning. “He’s so helpful. He never pours tea on me by accident.”

You don’t even want to know, and right now you’re in a bind. If you refuse, it’ll look weird. If you don’t, you’ll be setting Tenko up for a face-to-face meeting with a friend who’s spent the last five years thinking he was dead. What would be the normal, not-suspicious thing to do? Accept help when it’s offered. “Thanks,” you say, and pass the drink over to Spinner.

Then you turn away, back to the blenders. You can’t watch.

Aiba watches you make the drinks, asking how you know the proportions without measuring, asking how you came up with the recipes. You answer over the sound of the blenders, and all the while, you watch Spinner over the top of her head. Spinner dropped off the drink without incident, but he’s stopped to look at your latest mural – another sunrise, this one in the east over the ocean. Tenko kept suggesting weird things for you to paint, like the low-tide line or a slimy knot of kelp and seaweed, but when you started working on this, he sat and watched you the entire time.

You should do more like this one, he said when you were done. I like the horizons.

Spinner apparently likes them, too. He’s saying something to Tenko, who’s not responding and who’s probably face-first in his laptop. Spinner’s a nice guy, but you can sense him getting annoyed, and as you turn off the blenders, you hear him lose patience. “Did I do something to you? Why are you acting like –”

He breaks off suddenly. You see him take a step back, then another, until he collides with a table and chair and almost falls over. Aiba turns, concerns, as Spinner rights himself, stumbling over his words. “It can’t – you were – I thought you were – we all thought –”

“You were wrong,” Tenko says. “Get over it.”

You cringe. At the back of the café, Spinner explodes. “Fuck you!” he snaps. “That’s all you’re going to say? Get over it? Do you even have a clue, you bastard? We all thought – if you say get over it one more time –”

“Get over it.”

“You son of a bitch,” Spinner snarls, and he drags Tenko out of the booth. Tenko lets him do it, lets Spinner grab him by the front of his hoodie and shake him until the hood falls down. “You asshole, Shigaraki!”

“Shigaraki?” Aiba stares in horror, then goes for her phone. You reach across the counter and catch her wrist to stop her. “Let me go! If Shuichi talks to him – if anybody finds out –”

“Wait,” you say. Your hands are shaking. You take a deep breath. “Give it a second, okay? Just wait.”

Tenko finally gets tired of the shaking and plants his feet. “Are you gonna beat me up?”

“I should!” Spinner’s fury falters for a second, wavering into confusion. “You let us think you were dead, and all this time –”

“I didn’t have a choice,” Tenko says. “Do you want to keep shouting at me or do you want me to explain?”

“I don’t understand,” Spinner says. “I thought –”

“Yeah,” Tenko says. “I know.”

Spinner’s eyes well up, and you let Aiba go so she can race to his side. Tenko, meanwhile, snags his drink from the table and makes his way back to you, ducking behind the counter. “I was right,” he mumbles. “He’s pissed.”

“Give him a second,” you say. “It’s a lot to cope with.”

“You coped just fine.”

“I didn’t know you before,” you remind him. You set out two cups for Aiba and Spinner and pour their drinks before retrieving the whipped cream. “It wasn’t personal to me that you’d faked your death. It was personal to him.”

Tenko nods, but it’s clear that he’s dissatisfied. “I shouldn’t have come in today.”

“Give it a second,” you say again. You drop half a strawberry into the whipped cream on Aiba’s drink, then feed Tenko the other half, because his mask is down and his mouth is open. “If it went the other way, you’d need a second, too.”

Aiba’s still trying to comfort Spinner when you bring the drinks. Tenko trials after you. You set the drinks down on the table Spinner ran into, trying to ignore the way Aiba’s glaring at you. “You set this up,” she accuses. “You made Shuichi cry!”

“That was me,” Tenko says. He sits back down in the booth. “It was my choice to be here. If I hadn’t you’d never have known.”

“Why?” Spinner demands. His voice is watery. “It’s been five years. Why now?”

“I didn’t have a way to get in contact with you before,” Tenko says. “They made it pretty clear that I’d fuck up everything if I reached out on my own.”

Aiba hands Spinner a lacy handkerchief. Spinner wipes his nose. “Who’s they?”

“Maybe we should all sit down,” you suggest. “There’s a lot to explain.”

“Um, okay.” Aiba still looks wary, but you’re pretty sure the two of you are on the same side – you both want your boyfriends to quit fighting. “Come on, Shuichi –”

She manages to get Spinner into the other side of the booth, then slides in after him. You nudge Tenko until he scoots over and sit down, too. It’s quiet while Aiba tries her drink, Spinner tries his, and Tenko realizes you don’t have one and slides his over to share with you. Something about that breaks whatever’s keeping Spinner quiet. “How’d you get a girlfriend?”

“How’d you get a girlfriend?” Tenko retaliates. “Toga has more game than you.”

“More than you, too,” Spinner says. He’s glaring again. “What are you doing out here? What do you even do all day?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” Tenko takes his drink back from you and takes another sip. “One of us has to talk first. You’ve been doing more stuff than me, so it should be you.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t come back from the dead,” Spinner says. “You first. This is really good, by the way.”

He’s looking at you. “Oh,” you say. “Thanks.”

“Everything she makes is good,” Tenko says, which isn’t true by any stretch of the imagination. “You want me to talk first? Fine. As long as you don’t start trying to beat me up again.”

“I wasn’t trying to beat you up.”

“Or bite me –”

“I never bit you!” Spinner protests. “Stop lying about shit!”

“You totally bit him,” Aiba says, patting Spinner’s arm. “It was on TV.”

You remember seeing that, and experiencing a moment of pure bemusement before going straight back to running for your life. “You were supposed to be unconscious,” Spinner mutters. “I’m not boing to bite you and I’m not going to beat you up. Start talking.”

You remember how Tenko explained it to you. You let him tell it at his own pace, and you were quiet, not asking questions unless you really needed to know. Spinner asks questions every two seconds, fixating on tiny details, lingering on parts of the story that Tenko clearly doesn’t want to talk about. When Deku’s name comes up, you see Spinner’s jaw clench. “That little shit. I don’t care if Stain called him a true hero. I’m going to kill him!”

“It’s a waste of time,” Tenko says. He looks a little curious. “What did he do?”

“Lied. He’s been lying to me and Toga and everybody for five years! He told me there was nothing left of Shigaraki Tomura when he knew damn well –”

“That it’s not my name anymore,” Tenko says. Spinner blinks. “Sensei gave it to me. Even if I could use it again, I wouldn’t want to. Midoriya didn’t lie to you. Technically.”

Spinner scowls. “But even if he wanted to tell you, he couldn’t,” Tenko says. “That was the deal.”

“Why?”

“I’ll tell you as soon as you let me finish a sentence,” Tenko says. Someone kicks you under the table. “They used that kid Overhaul tortured to bring me back as far as they could – to right before I got Sensei’s quirk – and then –”

You get another kick. It’s Aiba. You’ve got no idea how she’s able to reach you from her side of the table, but you look up, and when you do, you see she’s holding up her phone. You take yours out, but she shakes her head sharply, then slides hers across the table to you. There’s an open Note. We have to talk like this. The government intercepts texts.

That’s not a surprise. You type a response and pass the phone. What do you want to talk about?

Aiba types really fast. Spinner, meanwhile, is trying to argue with Tenko about why he should have contacted the League anyway, consequences be damned. Aiba’s response slides back across the table. Shuichi’s tried really hard to change things. Harder than anybody else in the League, and people treat him terribly even when he’s doing nothing wrong just because he has a mutant-type quirk. I won’t let Shigaraki ruin it for him.

“He’s not going to ruin –”

She kicks you under the table, and you go back to reading. How do you know he’s not just biding his time and waiting for the right moment to come back?

You don’t. You aren’t naive, and you know that there’s no way to tell for sure what’s going on in someone else’s heart. Anyone can play any part, as convincingly as they’d like, until the moment they can’t take it any longer. You would know. That person used to be you.

And at the same time, you judge by action. You judge by Tenko not lashing out at Spinner even though Spinner’s provoked him. You judge by him keeping his hands covered, even though you know he can control his quirk. You judge by him keeping his head down, staying out of trouble, not seeking the spotlight or railing against the system. You judge by how he let you into his world, how he’s let you make yourself at home just as he’s made himself at home in yours. You judge by how he saved someone’s life.

I worry about him going back as much as I worry about me going back, you finally type. I can’t say never. I can say that things are better now than they were before. We could go back. I just don’t think we’d want to.

Aiba takes her time reading over your answer, and when she responds, she changes the subject. I think we should let them talk now. Will you still tell me about how you run your cafe?

“Of course,” you say out loud. You slide out of the booth, only for Tenko to catch your hand. “I’m just going to walk her through the business stuff. Send up a distress signal if you need me to come save you from Spinner.”

Spinner snorts. “Bring it over here instead,” Tenko says. His grip on your hand shifts, and you realize all at once that he doesn’t want you to leave. He wants you to stay while this happens. “I’ll move my shit off the table.”

He clears away his laptop, and you bring over the binder where you keep your expense reports, inventory sheets, income tracking, tax forms, and all the extra forms you have to fill out as part of the NCRA requirements. Aiba doesn’t look worried about it, although Spinner visibly blanches at the sight of so much paperwork. “Manami, I know I said I’d help you with the stuff, but –”

“It’s not that bad once you get used to it,” you say. You turn your attention to Aiba. “Where do you want to start?”

“I made a list,” she says. “Tell me about the loan application first.”

While you and Aiba go over the finer points of the initial stages of the NCRA, Tenko explains to Spinner. You listen with half an ear as he goes over everything, speaking quickly and with more assurance than he did when he told you, and you’d think he was comfortable with the story if not for how tightly he’s holding your hand under the table. It triggers a strange mix of feelings within you. You’re proud of him for trying to explain, for reaching back out to his friend. You’re a little worried that it’s stressing him out this much. And you feel – lucky, almost. Lucky that you’re the person he turns to. Lucky to find him. Or lucky, maybe, that he found you.

Aiba’s smartwatch beeps as you’re looking over the expense reports, and she sits up. “Shuichi, the sunset! We have to go.”

“Right.” Spinner looks kind of drained. So does Tenko. “It’s supposed to be really good here. We were gonna go down to the beach to watch.”

“You know the sun goes down on the other side of the country, right?” Tenko snarks. You elbow him. “Go check it out. I’ve never seen it, so don’t take my word for it.”

Then you should come with us, too,” Aiba says. Tenko startles. “And you!”

She’s looking at you now. “I don’t know if I can. I have to finish closing down –”

“We’ll come back and help you after,” Spinner says. He looks like he’s warming to the idea, even though a sunset beach walk is the kind of thing you’re supposed to do with just your girlfriend, not your best friend you’re mad at and his girlfriend who set the whole thing up. “Come on.”

You close up shop in a hurry, and the four of you set off for the beach. The crowds on the main beach are big, like always, so you lead the way to Fourth Beach, just like you did the day you found out who Tenko was before. Spinner and Aiba walk a little ways behind you, hand in hand, Aiba taking two steps for every one of Spinner’s. You match Tenko’s pace, like always. You watch him out of the corner of your eye. “How do you feel?”

“Weird.” Tenko sidles closer, leaning against you for a moment. “I’m not like he remembers me. I am, but I’m not. The last time we talked we were about to destroy the world, and now we’re just – normal.”

“You don’t think he wants to be friends with normal you?”

“I don’t think he thinks normal me is me,” Tenko says. His grip on your hand tightens for a moment. His hand shakes. “If there’s nobody down there – if it’s just us four – can you change my hair?”

A jolt runs through you. “Just for a little while,” Tenko says. “So he quits looking at me like I’m an imposter. Change it back when we leave.”

He looks miserable. You want to tell him that he’s not giving Spinner enough credit, that Spinner just found out today, that it’s probably still going to take time for Spinner to get used to the former Symbol of Fear slurping blended drinks in an internet cafe in a seaside town – but none of that is going to help. And he’s just told you what he thinks will fix it. You tighten your grip on his hand. “I’ve been meaning to offer to help with your hair,” you say. “I know you’ve been dyeing it yourself –”

“And I suck at it,” Tenko says. You didn’t want to say it. “You have better things to do with your quirk than fix my shitty dye job.”

“I can do a lot of things with my quirk at once,” you say. “What color do you want it today?”

Tenko’s quiet for a while, long enough for you to make the turn onto the path down to the beach, long enough for you to slow down and let Spinner and Aiba pass you. He doesn’t speak until you’ve both looked up and down the beach, confirming that the only people there are the ones who came with you. “Turn it white.”

“Okay,” you say. You let go of Tenko’s hands and beckon him closer. “Come here.”

When he’s close enough, you cradle his face in your hands, wait for permission to unhook his mask so you can kiss him. As he kisses you back, you run your fingers slowly through his hair.

He didn’t even own a hairbrush when he first started staying over at your apartment. You didn’t realize he was using yours until you started finding strands of matte-black hair caught in its bristles, and you didn’t realize how he was doing it until you caught him yanking the brush hard through the knots in his hair. It took a while for Tenko to grasp why you were offering to do it for him, but then he let you, and it’s become yet another small ritual in your lives. You don’t use a brush anymore. After the first few times, the knots are so small that you can draw them apart with your fingers.

If you were at home, you’d take your time changing Tenko’s color, a few strands at a time – but right now, you can’t. You run your fingers through Tenko’s hair, eyes closed, and when the two of you separate reluctantly, you open your eyes to check your work.

Even knowing what you know, knowing almost everything, there’s still a single moment of shock when you look at him. Maskless, white-haired, it’s impossible to see him as anyone but Shigaraki Tomura, Symbol of Fear, would-be destroyer of worlds – but only for a moment. Then he covers the back of his neck, glances awkwardly away and back again. “Does it look right?”

“Yeah,” you say. You take his hand again and start the walk down to the beach. “Let me know if you want to change it back.”

The sunset hasn’t quite started yet, but the sky is already beginning to change colors. The tide’s low, too, and you suppress the urge to tell your guests not to climb on the few beached logs with an effort. Tenko must be thinking of it, too, because he calls out to Spinner. “If you get stuck under one of those things, I’m not saving you.”

“You wouldn’t need to. I’ve still got my strength quirk. Unlike you, so –” Spinner looks back up the beach towards you and nearly jumps out of his skin at the sight of Tenko’s new hair color. “Fuck, don’t do that!”

“Do what? Look like me?” Tenko challenges. You wince. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I wanted you not to die,” Spinner says, and then it’s quiet, other than the crash of the waves and the distant cries of gulls. Tenko’s grip on your hand is tight and shaky. “Maybe it’s better this way. I couldn’t kick your ass in League if you were locked up in Tartarus.”

“You couldn’t kick my ass at League if I had on handcuffs and a straitjacket,” Tenko shoots back. “GTA, maybe –”

“Street Fighter, absolutely. Hand to hand combat isn’t your strong suit.”

“And sense of humor isn’t yours, if that’s the best hand joke you’ve got –”

They sound like they’re arguing, still. They sound like they’re arguing, but they aren’t. Tenko’s grip on your hand relaxes just enough that you can pull away, so you do. You leave them to talk and continue up the beach alone. Aiba’s taking photos of the sky as it goes pink and purple and gold, high over the hills. You leave her to it as well, but you commit the colors to memory, so you can use them later if you need to paint another horizon one day. You might. You probably will.

You believe in second chances, but this doesn’t feel like a second chance. It feels more like a miracle than anything else, the small kind, the kind you don’t notice until everything’s already fallen into place. The kind you would never have imagined when you moved here, six months after the war, hoping against hope that you could start over.

You stare up at the sky until you get a crick in your neck, then turn away to face the sea. The moon will be up soon. You haven’t painted a moonrise yet. Maybe this next time you will.

“Hey.” Tenko’s snuck up on you. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you back against him. “How’d you end up over here?”

“How did you end up over here? I thought you all were watching the sunset.”

“They wanted to kiss or something,” Tenko says. “Not my thing. So I cam to find you –”

“So we could kiss or something?” you ask, and Tenko snorts. “Or just to make sure I didn’t get stuck under a log?”

“You wouldn’t be that dumb.” Tenko hugs you a little closer. A few strands of his now-pale hair brush against your cheek. “Thanks. For getting Spinner to come out here.”

“Did you guys patch things up?”

“Not much to patch up. He just had to get it out of his system,” Tenko says. “He’s already trying to figure out how to get Toga down here.”

Another member of the former League of Villains hanging out at your cafe. It makes you nervous until you remember that you’re not on probation any longer. You wouldn’t have been in trouble for that even before. “Is that something you’d like?”

“It would be good to see her again,” Tenko says. “To see all of them. But I don’t think that’s what you signed up for.”

“Huh?”

“It’s not like with those two.” Tenko doesn’t have to tell you who he means. “There’s no rehabbing this. I didn’t talk to anybody in five years because anybody who got close enough could get close enough to guess. If you stick with me, you’re going to be hiding something your whole life.”

It always puts you a little on edge when Tenko starts talking about the future. You’re never sure how seriously he’s talking about it, if he really means it when he brings up staying together your whole lives. “I know that’s not what you wanted,” Tenko says. “You spent five years here tying yourself in a knot trying to be normal –”

“And look how many friends I made.” You kept to yourself, too. Being friendly to your customers isn’t the same thing as having friends. “Maybe it’s a good thing, if your friends are around more. We won’t have to hide anything from them.”

“You aren’t listening,” Tenko says. “Do you really –”

“What’s the alternative?” you ask. “Not for me, for you. That you never talk to anybody and never try anything new and never find things that make you happy? That’s not living.”

The thought of Tenko shutting himself away again – not just from you, but from everything – hurts more than anything nonphysical has a right to. “The world exists the way it is because of you. You should get to live in it.”

“Me?” Tenko scoffs. “Good try.”

“Yeah, you.” Spinner’s voice rings out from behind you. You peer out around Tenko to see he and Aiba approaching. “Deku feels so guilty for fake-killing you that he guilt-tripped everybody else into fixing things.”

“Not everything.”

“No, but some stuff,” you say. “If the laws hadn’t changed, I’d still be in prison.”

“Me and Gentle would have been, too,” Aiba adds. “And Shuichi.”

“I’d have been in Tartarus on a double life sentence. Toga’s and Dabi’s charges were even worse,” Spinner says. “You promised me and the others that you’d show us the most beautiful horizon we’d ever seen. This one looks pretty good to me.”

He gestures out over the ocean. The stars are already out, and the moon is just beginning to clear the horizon, a thin, bright crescent that casts a slender blaze of light across the water. You think he’s right. It does look pretty good, but there could be prettier ones, too. Maybe. You won’t know for sure unless you’re out here tomorrow.

So you will be. You’ll bring Tenko with you, as many times as you can, as many times as it’ll take, and maybe you’ll never make him see the world the way you do. But you can remind him that you like him when he asks, and switch in the other word sometime soon. You can find ways to bring his friends back to him, and maybe make friends with them yourself. He might think of it as hiding, but that’s not how you see it. It’s just part of living in the new world. You like living in it with him.

It’s quiet for a long time, all four of you watching the waves. One of Tenko’s arms unwraps from around your waist, but only so he can grab your hand and pull it up to his mouth. His lips brush against your knuckles, so soft that you can’t quite call it a kiss, and he keeps your hand there. When he speaks at last, it’s through your fingers, never looking away from the place where the ocean meets the sky. “Yeah,” Tenko says quietly, and you feel a smile break across your face. “It’s not so bad.”

#shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #shimura tenko x reader #tenko shimura x reader #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #x reader #reader insert #man door hand hook car door #coffee shop rehab fic

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