#x-rated? no thank you

[scaryscarecrows]

Lil bit of an unusual ask 🤭 but like..riding jason while kissing his pretty lips <333 sorry Jason!!!!

Y'know that niggling feeling of 'what did I forget?'

I've had it for a few months and I now remember! I had a pinned post asking people not to send me these, but I got rid of it when the US decided I should have fewer rights than a corpse. :/ Anyways, find your joy, but, uh, I can't help you here.

[naivegh0ul]

OKAY BUT how about Older¡Ghost extremely jealous when his neighbor (reader) brings someone to her house to fuck with her? He would be extremely mad about it, but couldn't help but hear her moans and whimpers, wishing it was him instead making her feel good. (And to be honest, she may only did that to caught Ghost's attention )

YESSS god I love the idea of jealous Older!Ghost (it took me way too answer this i am so so so sorry anon!!!)

(warnings: smut, fem reader, older!ghost, jealousy, blowjobs, face fucking)

(word count: 1908)

It's 3am and Ghost hasn't gotten an ounce of sleep. How could he, when he can hear you moaning so sweetly through the walls. This has been a nightly occurrence. Ghost would go to bed, lay there for a while as he scrolled through pictures of you on his phone, and then the moaning would start.

The first time it happened, Ghost brushed it off, he's heard you pleasuring yourself through the walls before. Hell, he's even watched you. But this time you sounded different. Not so breathy, more high-pitched. Exaggerated.

The second time, he heard the creaking noise. Your bed must be rocking back and forth. Again, not the first time Ghost has heard that, but it is the first time he's heard grunts to go along with it.

Now, at three o'clock in the morning, Ghost has finally had enough. He climbs out of bed, feeling angry and annoyed. Angry that his sleep is being disrupted, and annoyed that he's hard from your moans.

He storms out of bed and out of his house, making his way towards your home in only a pair of grey sweatpants and socks, the imprint of his hard cock visible at the front of his sweats.

There's no response when Ghost knocks the first time, so he goes to knock again but your front door swings open before he can. "Mr. Riley!" You exclaim, slightly out of breath. "W-what's the matter?"

Ghost looks you up and down not so discreetly, noting the fact that one of your pant legs is riding up a little, and your shirt is up slightly, revealing the hickies and bite marks littering your stomach.

A twinge of jealousy filled Ghost at the sight. He has no right to be jealous, he knows that, but he is. You are his. Not officially, but you belong to Ghost. He knows what you like, how to crook his fingers to make you cry out his name, what filthy things to say to make you an embarrassed, whining mess.

That man in your bed probably has no idea what to do, he most likely just whipped his dick out and tried to put it in you, not even bothering to make you cum on his fingers first. He's probably your age, too. Young, immature, thinks with his dick.

Ghost can feel himself getting riled up the more he thinks about that stupid guy in your house. Ghost's is gonna give him what he deserves, the second he leaves your house Ghost is gonna wrap his hands around his throat and watch the life bleed from him-

"Simon?" Your sweet voice coos, pulling Ghost out of his spiraling thoughts. "Have a nice night." Ghost grunts out, turning away and walking straight back to his house.

Going to your house was a bad idea. You're a grown woman, for God's sake. He should leave you alone and stop being such an obsessive old man.

The sound of your sock-covered feet hitting the pavement has Ghost turning around before he enters his house. "Simon!" You say, looking up at him as you come to a stop on his front doorstep. "What's wrong? Is everything okay?" There's clear concern in your eyes, making Ghost's heart melt.

"'M fine, love. Don't worry 'bout me." Ghost sighs, reaching forward to ruffle your hair. "Go back inside, 'm sure your guest is waitin' for you."

Ghost tries to turn around again but your hands reach out and grab the waistband of his joggers. "He..." You mumble, looking down at your feet. "He doesn't make me feel as good as you do." You admit as you glance up at Ghost with pleading, desperate eyes.

"Love..." Ghost sighs again "'M too old for you, alright? Go back inside, pretty girl." He leans forward and kisses your forehead softly and strokes your hair before pulling back.

Suddenly, you're on your knees in front of him, hands tugging at his waistband. "Please, Simon?" You coo, palming him through his joggers. Ghost swears under his breath, cock twitching and his hands curling into fists as he fights off the urge to give in.

No, he gave in once. He got his fill, he shouldn't be greedy. But you look so pretty in front of him, kneeling on the hard concrete, your face so close to his throbbing cock.

"You really want this, don't you?" Ghost says as he rubs the bridge of his nose. "Come on, get up. Don't want you kneeling on the concrete." Ghost reaches down and pulls you up, guiding you into his house.

Once the door is shut, you sink to your knees again, eager to please Ghost. "Fuck, you're eager." Ghost breathes as he undoes the ties on his sweatpants, pushing the garment down past his hips, exposing his cock to you.

He watches as your throat bobs and you swallow, your hands sliding up and down his thighs impatiently. Ghost wraps a hand around himself and strokes himself a few times, watching as you shuffle forward and open your mouth.

"Just this once." Ghost thinks to himself as he grabs the back of your head and slowly pushes his cock inside your waiting mouth, groaning loudly as the feeling of your warm, wet mouth engulfs him.

His hand guides you up and down the length of his cock, his fingers tangled in your hair and tugging ever so slightly. He has to fight the urge to buck forward, to fuck into your mouth as you drool all over him.

When he feels your hand on his balls suddenly, he jolts, a moan being shocked out of him as you gently roll them in your hand. "Attagirl," Ghost praises softly, barely audible over the sound of your slurping and gagging as you try to pleasure him at your pace, not his.

Ghost lets you do what you want, letting go of your hair and watching as you scoot forward and take more of Ghost into your mouth. It's a delicious sight, seeing your mouth stretching around him as your fingers wrap around the base of Ghost's cock.

You move further down Ghost's shaft each time, taking more and more of him. Your lips bump into your fingers as you take away one each time, building yourself up until finally you've got Ghost's cock buried deep in your throat, your neck bulging ever so slightly.

"Fuuuck," Ghost groans as he throws his head back, bumping it into the wall. His hips jerk, forcing himself further down your throat and making his heavy balls slap against your face. When you swallow around him, it takes everything in him not to cum right then and there. He has to pull you back so he can control himself.

You're pulled off with a wet cough, one hand holding your throat while the other wipes the spit from your mouth. "Why'd you stop?" You rasp as you look up at Ghost, licking your lips.

"Got close." You tilt your head at his explanation. "Why didn't you just cum then?" Your hand finds its way back to Ghost's cock, your thumb and forefinger gently pulling back Ghost's foreskin as you wait for a response.

"Didn't know if... mhm, if you wanted me to." He pauses mid-sentence as you wrap your lips around his tip, lapping the milky white precum beading from his slit. Your tongue digs under his foreskin, licking him teasingly.

You're so good at this, making Ghost feel like he has no control and you're in charge when you're only giving him a blowjob. You're not even doing anything special, not ordering him around or trying to be dominant, you're just gently suckling on his cock and now you've got him wrapped around your finger.

And it's not fair. Ghost wants to fuck a pretty girl like you with no repercussions, but he knows that's not possible, the moment they're having explains that all away. You can't get pleasure from anyone other than Ghost, and he can't stop himself from pleasuring you.

He's trying so hard to focus and what you're doing, but the way your hand strokes him and your tongue laps at him has him feeling floaty and drunk so he doesn't notice when he starts thrusting his hips forward slowly, fucking into the wet heat of your mouth.

Your hands hold onto his hairy thighs as he gently fucks your mouth, your nails scratching lightly as you let him do what he wants. He sounds so gorgeous, breathy moans and groans escaping his throat as he rocks his hips.

You watch him, big eyes looking up at Ghost curiously as you swallow. He looks so good from where you're kneeling, mindless yet focused as he moves you up and down on his cock like you're a toy, just a thing for his pleasure.

And you let him. You let him drag you along his cock or hold you still so he can fuck into your mouth; you let him lose himself as he stares into your teary, lustful eyes.

"So pretty down there." Ghost mumbles, slurring his words as if he's drunk on the feeling of you. "Perfect little mouth, so warm..." His hand moves from the back of your head to the side, Ghost's other hand joining in as he holds you still and slowly thrusts into your mouth, letting out breathy little grunts each time.

He's close, you can tell from the way his breathing speeds up and hips move faster, eagerly bucking into your mouth. Ghost gets rough when he's close, you know that, so you're prepared when he adjusts his stance and grips your head tighter, pulling you down so your nose is buried in the thick hair at the base of his cock.

"Fuuuck," Ghost groans as he feels your throat contract, watches as your eyes water and your hands grip his thigh. "Good fucking girl, takin' me so well." His thumb swipes below your eye, wiping away your tears as his hips snap against your face, balls slapping your chin.

"'M close," He pants, feeling his cock twitch in your mouth. "You gonna swallow it like a good girl?" At his words, you moaned, eyebrows pinching as you scooted forward on the floor and licked at the sensitive vein on the underside of Ghost's cock.

“Yeah, ‘s what I thought.” His hands tighten their hold on your head, pulling you closer to him. You’re a gagging, drooling mess, hands planted in your lap as you hear Ghost let out a loud, long moan, his hips stilling as he forces his cock further into your mouth, spilling his seed down your throat.

When Ghost finally lets you off – after holding you there for an unreasonable amount of time – you splutter and cough, one hand gingerly holding your throat while the other wipes your mouth.

You stand up after a moment, knees clicking and cracking from being so stiff and you look at Ghost with a tiny smile on your face and a happy expression. Boldly, you lean closer, standing on your tiptoes as you go in for a kiss.

But Ghost stops you with a hand on your shoulder, shutting you down. “We shouldn’t.” He shakes his head as he speaks. He can see the look of hurt and confusion in your eyes as you step back, visibly embarrassed.

“Um, I’ll go now.” You say softly, avoiding eye contact. “Bye, Mr. Riley.”

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

come get yer Laughin'stock! get it hot off the press! free Laughin'stock right here!

[acradelius]

Can I request some 049 x female Reader headcanons where the Reader is pregnant with 049’s child?

"We're Expecting! Don't Tell The O5 Council!"

Fandom: Secure. Contain. Protect. (SCP)

Pairing: SCP-049 ("Doctor") x Female! Researcher! Reader

Rating: Lime [🟢] - (Equivalent to PG-13)

Warnings/Mention Ofs: Human! Reader, Researcher! Reader, Human x SCP, Human x SCP Relationship, AFAB! Reader, Female Pronouns Used For Reader, Unexpected Pregnancy, Most Likely Post! Contaiment Breach, Slightly Overprotective Doctor, Very Involved Parental! Doctor, Internally "Paranoid"! Doctor, Limited "Normal" Pregnancy Customs.

Word Count: 873 Words

If you'd like to be tagged for all posts, certain fandom posts, or certain character posts then feel free to message me!

There wasn’t much doubt that amongst the scale of ‘Definitely Not Human-Like’ to ‘As Human As Could Possibly Be, But Still Not Actually Human’, Doctor was more so teetering towards the edge of being more human-like than majority of the other S.C.P. beings that were also residing within the containment site, even still after the initial breach. That didn’t stop the researcher, (Y/N), from initiating a relationship with the Doctor, and eventually it became as intimate as it possibly could have. Despite that intimacy, there wasn’t necessarily ever a thought that a pregnancy between Doctor and (Y/N) could possibly happen, at least until viewing the results of the pregnancy tests that (Y/N) had taken. While there was some initial anxiety when it came to telling Doctor, he was actually pretty excited about the news! 

While within the early stages of their relationship Doctor had respected (Y/N)’s boundaries for space and privacy, now that she’s carrying their child, there’s not really such a thing as space and privacy anymore. (Y/N) couldn’t even make the five steps from Doctor’s desk to the bathroom within his laboratory without him jumping up to assist her. “Are you doing well, Chère? Do you need any assistance? Is there anything concerning the baby?” With that being said, the security around the laboratory is increased as well. There’s also more reanimated subjects that are placed around the laboratory, and even the most common places that (Y/N) typically ventures to and from, for an extra form of protection. It had gotten to the point that Doctor had to venture through the site looking for something, but didn’t want to disturb (Y/N) from their nap, so he had one of the subjects lay in the bed with her for protection.

Doctor is absolutely involved with the baby, ever since the moment that (Y/N) had revealed to him that she was pregnant with his child. He would spend literal hours just reading out loud to her and the child, whether it be his own research papers, random magazine pages found strewn across hallway floors, or would even spend time reading the files based on his other S.C.P. companions. It’s the same thing when it comes to listening to music, even if it’s various languages that (Y/N)’s unfamiliar with or hasn’t even heard of before. Doctor swears that while he hasn’t had any children before, that he’s done his fair share of research when it comes to pregnancies and even early childhood education, though (Y/N) is a bit unsure since it’s been quite some time since Doctor has been within the general public, especially in today’s day and age. He claims that it’s critical, and a long term benefit, that a developing baby experiences these things.

This pregnancy is definitely something more than just a generic pregnancy for Doctor, but he’s not going to make that known to (Y/N) unless he absolutely has to. As stated above, he’s never had a child before, and hasn’t came across anyone else like himself, so he’s unaware of what to actually expect when it comes to someone like him having a child within someone such as her. He’s not just monitoring the basic and typical pregnancy symptoms and such when it comes to watching over his beloved and her pregnancy. Secretly, he’s also monitoring for any abnormalities, anything that could end up becoming alarming or dangerous for (Y/N) or the baby, and even both. He doesn’t want to lose either of them, and therefore he would rather be able to take the risk of doing this part of the monitoring in secret if that means making sure that (Y/N) and their baby is doing well. While he was alone for the majority of his life before she had come along, Doctor isn’t sure if he would be able to continue on if he was to lose her.

Whenever (Y/N)’s due date, or at least an estimate of when the due date would be, there’s only a certain few other S.C.P. beings that Doctor is comfortable with her being around, even if she’s interacted with them for quite some time before the initial breach. He doesn’t want to take any chances with something happening to (Y/N) or the baby, especially with how sporadic and violent some of them can be. He only wants those that he can absolutely trust to be around them, at least at first, those that he knows will also do their best to make sure that things are going smoothly and stress-free. (Y/N) mentioned how this was slightly unfair once and therefore (Y/N) was only allowed to interact with who he didn’t deem safe enough through the intercom to his laboratory, or writing to each other with erasable markers on the window. This even means creating a whole different room or section of the site that Doctor’s located within to treat his “patients”, as he wants to make sure that the environment is going to be safe and sterile, or as sterile as it can be, for a safe, healthy delivery of his beloved little baby to be.

[atariakana]

🎉The Dead Boy Detectives fandom has reached 1,000 fics on AO3!🎉

Let's celebrate! Rec a fic/some fics you loved in the notes of this post! I'll go first:

A Heaven Like They Talk About by @likemmmcookies

Pairing: Edwin/Charles | Rating: Mature | Word Count: 30,847 | Complete? Yes

A very very sweet fic in which Edwin and Charles temporarily have mortal bodies again. It's got a really interesting case, a lot of newly-alive shenanigans, and an emotional punch that I'm still feeling several days later (but don't worry, it's a happy ending). Can't recommend this enough!

2. To the Boy I Wish I'd Never Loved by @countloser

Pairing: Edwin/Cat King | Rating: Explicit | Word Count: 38,153 | Complete? No

Boarding school au with suuuuper fun Cat King/Edwin characterization. The central romance plot unfolds in a very intriguing way, accompanied by sweet boarding school shenanigans featuring the whole gang. I'm on tenterhooks waiting in between updates for this fic, it's one of my faves out there!

3. Dance the Night by Gruoch on AO3

Pairing: Edwin/Charles | Rating: Teen | Word Count: 42,671 | Complete? No

A very fun casefic with some brilliant development of Edwin and Crystal's friendship. I am eating this fic up, the characterization is so good--I've read Gruoch's fics in other fandoms, and trust me you are always safe in their capable hands. Lovers of creature lore, you should give this one a try.

Of course I have read many many more lovely fics since I first watched the show, but alas I do not have the time and space to list them all. But with over 1,000 already (1,049 last time I checked), I'm sure I missed some! So play along and rec your favs* :D (was this a ploy to get people to rec me fics? perhaps. but i think it will spread positivity also, so it's not all selfish ;))

* you do not need to get fancy with the formatting like I did, I'm just incapable of doing anything by halves. Title/author is enough :))

[theanonymousninja247]

Settled

This is a little somethin somethin inspired after this post by @mrabubu. Happy Really Late Birthday?

ANyHoO please listen to this song to set the mood

”So that's what I want to give them, as many forms of softness as I can.

Because everyone should have a little softness in their lives.

Including you, anon-chan.

And even if it has to be secret, even if it's just between you and four walls, I hope you do find some time to be soft.” ~ @luckycharms1701

Cookies and Cream Rating: 16+ and up please 🙏🏼

Settled

One of the things you don’t think you would ever get used to about living in these underground bunkers was just how cold it could get.

A constant temp of 50 something degrees in the summer. Or well…what used to be called summer. With the Kraang invasion and what not, the stupid aliens messed with your seasons in their attempt to make the Earth atmosphere more like their heralded “Dimension X.”

It wasn’t the only thing the stupid pink buggers had messed with besides the obvious glaring fact that they were attempting mass Earthen genocide and planetary colonization and what not.

No, the Kraang had a nasty habit of being unfairly unpredictable. Which made sense because they were, you know, aLiEnS. Aliens who had no need of following humans preferred sense of having at least SOME semblance of structure. 

That unpredictability was causing its fair share of grief across the entire Resistance. Aliens, you had decided, had certainly lost their “awe factor”  the minute they started to decimate the planet and permanently engrain “Raph Chasms” on every single face you passed.

A heavy disgruntled sigh escaped you at that thought, one face in particular coming to your concerned mind. A face who’s brow was often furrowed with the weight of said Kraang unpredictability.

One face that you had not seen all day even though he had promised to come to bed earlier just once he had finished planning for an upcoming Kraag ambush he was leading. 

He had promised you that. 7. Hours. Ago. 

You hated that that had become his norm of late. Granted, you knew that he had always struggled with insomnia, but usually if you smiled at him just right and caught him sitting down, you could get him to snuggle in close and at least take a nap. 

Now though? You weren’t sure the last time you had even seen him with his eyes closed for more than a minute or two. It was almost to the point that his sleep hours were rivaling Donnie’s due to how miniscule and spaced out they were. It was starting to worry you. Even more so than usual. 

You let out a soft hum of thought at that and shifted your feet in the direction of where you had left him last. Looks like desperate times really did call for desperate measures.

So with a plan of action once again set into play, you just shook your head wearily, tightened the worn blanket around your shoulders as your shield against the chilly bunker air, and marched off to find your stubbornly still awake man.  

After wandering the ever puzzling interlocking halls and bunkers, you finally found him exactly where you had left him: stone faced with that ever deepening Raph Chasm on his brow with his gaze hyper-focused on the paperwork laid out in a heap in front of him.

His hand anxiously rubbed his chin, one that you had absently noticed that he had grown into rather nicely through out the years. While he forever seemed to face each day with his “devil may care” kind of attitude, you could see the way his eyes constantly flicked around. His movements only emphasizing the fact as he seemed more…agitated than usual, lacking that oh so signature lithe agility that always seemed to accompany him. 

You stepped up to the doorway frame, a small frown pursing your lips as you watched him mutter to himself, pacing around the table in thought as though his nerves would never let him settle. Resting your shoulder against the frame of the doorway as a support, you wrapped the blanket more snugly around your shoulders, pulling the fabric in a slowly tightening fist as you watched Leo with an ever deepening “Raph Chasm” of your own. 

Ever vigilante, always watching, ever the ninja lying in wait. It was only in these small private moments when you could see the facade of bravado fall and the religiously clandestine truth finally rise to the surface. 

It was a truth. A statement of unchanging fact that was never to be eroded with time.

Leo never settled.

He really was never one to stay still. A line used from an old videogame you used to play, would often come to mind when you watched him pace like this: “The Endless Spirit of Timeless Unrest” or however it went.

Part of you wondered if this…ansgty unrest… was because he genuinely cared for these missions. Or if it was more of some desperate attempt to try and redeem himself for what he considered was his unforgivable sin.

Yes, Leo never settled. 

Well…at least until now. 

You smirked softly at that thought and adjusted in the doorway, taking a step forward as you softly called out.

“Leo.”

Hm. Nothing.

“Leo.”

Still nada. He had moved at least, this time his hands coming to brace either side of the table as he all but hunched over the strategy plans like some geriatric gargoyle. 

“Leonardo Hamato.”

Interesting. Even the full name had no response. Leo must really have been in the zone if not even the full seven syllables could grasp his attention. This was more serious than you thought. Looks like it was time to pull out the big guns.

“Oh Husband~...”

Leo’s head shot up at the gentle croon of your voice with a speed that you could have sworn would have popped a blood vessel, his eyes immediately zoning in on you in the doorway.

He snapped to attention, immediately stretching to his full height as his body went tense at the perceived danger at the sound of your voice. Your eyes immediately followed the movement, watching as the body of intimidation, the weapon of the “Greatest Ninja in the World” literally rose in front of you.

You would never breathe a word of it, never in a million years, but such a look directed at you from Leo always made you feel like a chicken being circled by a fox.

Something of a dance of death, a toying tease as you awaited with baited breath for the inevitable strike. It was only for a moment, it was always only just for a moment, but it admittedly would make you freeze, have your stomach clenching, at the intense look in his eye.

You knew Leo would never hurt you. Well, at least not until recognition flicked across his gaze. 

He just stared at you with that ever impenetrable gaze before shifting into his more familiar dastardly delicious, one sided, smirk that forever seemed plastered onto his face. Except this time, the smirk was a little bit more sheepish, looking the picture of a naughty child with their hand stuck in the proverbial cookie jar. 

Leo was caught. You knew it. He knew it. And he knew that now you were here, there was no chance of getting out of it. 

So Leo did what Leo always does, turned on that signature “Face Man Charm”  to try and slip out of trouble. In a voice that just happened to be a little bit lower and perchance a hint more sensual than normal, Leo all but purred out, ”Oh hey~ Didn’t see you there. What’s up?”

Your eyebrow quirked up at the sound of the attempted burr in his voice, and you couldn’t help but shake your head with an amused roll of your eyes. Keeping the blanket wrapped snugly around your shoulders, you pushed yourself off from the door frame and sauntered forward till you reached Leo’s side. Placing one hand on your hip, you looked up at him with a soft smirk and quipped off a dry reply, “Obviously. What’s up is you apparently. Do you have any idea how late it is?”

Leo blinked owlishly at you for a moment before he let out a very confident, “Uhhhhh…n-no?” 

The flat look you shot at him at his very convincing reply, had him wincing slightly. Your arms came up to fold exasperatedly around you with a small cock of your hip. Leo’s eyes flicked to your body with the motion, and he wouldn't meet your eye, choosing to instead shoot you another sheepish smile and nervously rub the back of his neck. When he saw that you were not having it, Leo’s smile dropped, and he held both of his hands up placating with a heavy sigh.

“Look, you don’t even need to say anything. I know. I know I promised, I’m sorry Love, but I just really need to have this all hammered out before-”

“Abepbep, let me stop you right there, Cowboy.”  

You didn’t even let Leo finish before you raised a hand to cut him off, pressing your fingers against his lips. The motion obviously surprised Leo, all with the face touching, being a red-eared-slider and what not, effectively shutting him up for the time being. You tried to bite back a smirk at the thought of using Leo’s own biological behaviors against him to assert dominance in the moment, but hey, desperate times called for desperate measures and whatever. 

You looked up at him and slowly shook your head, letting out a sad chuckle as you reached out to gently slide your hand over his cheek, down his arm until you could finally capture his hand. Maintaining eye contact with him, you slowly curled his hand into a fist and held it snugly over yours. Slowly raising it up so you could press a soft kiss to the back of his knuckles, murmuring softly into the cool skin.

“Boy, you are just as bad as Donnie. I figured if you weren’t coming to bed, I’d just bring bed to you instead.”

Now Leo was never one to lose his cool; it was something he was actually rather proud of, keeping his head in the heat of the moment and what not. But there was something about the way that you looked up at him, holding and kissing his hand like that, that got him feeling some kind of way.  

He tried to resist, he really did, but admittedly he was getting kind of tired and he maaaaay or may not be somewhat distracted by the way the blanket looked so invitingly wrapped around you and how his loose shirt was beginning to slip, showing off the delicate and smooth curve of your shoulder.

Leo cleared his throat and quickly turned his head, a muscle thumping in his jaw as he tried to hide the sudden warmth that was heating up his cheeks. He stammered out, his voice soft and apologetic as he lowered his hand with yours.

 “Look, Love, I-I can’t…”

At hearing Leo’s quiet and hesitant denial, your heart sank, and suddenly the bunker just felt that much colder. He really was serious about this, and you didn’t think anything you could say or do in the moment would change his mind. 

You continued to look up at him searchingly, his hand still being held tightly with yours as you watched with growing worry at the way his eyes creased on the side, at the hollowness found there and the furrow further deepening on his brow.

Sure, he wasn’t going to change his mind, but that didn’t mean you were going to let him keep standing on duty like this. Not if you, as a good wife, had anything to say about it. 

Shaking your head with a small huff, you reached up with your one free hand to adjust the slipping blanket, not wanting to let go of Leo with the other now that you had his attention, and took a step back tugging Leo along.

“Oh very well, you can still work, but at least come sit down. It’ll help you get a new angle at least.”

Leo stumbled slightly with the tug, blinking in surprise that you had even gotten him to move. He must have been more tired than the both of you had previously thought. But he just fondly rolled his eyes with a small sigh of his own, reaching behind him to swiftly grab his papers before you dragged him off to who knows where.

“Goodness! So bossy.”

Leo all but chortled to which you respond with a dry chuckle, playfully shooing Leo backwards until his legs hit the back of a couch that had been left in the corner of the room. Without giving him a chance to recalibrate, you all but shove him down onto said couch, and plopped down next to him to prevent any chance of escape. To further ensure your snare, you unwrapped the blanket and gently shifted it until it was resting on top of the both of y’all, effectively nestling y’all under the fabric together. 

You chuckled with a shake of you head as you pulled your legs up onto the couch and turned so you could nestle into Leo’s side with a soft smirk, gently slapping his plastron.

“Maybe, just a little but that's because your stubborn arse won't listen to anything else. Now be a good husband and put your arm around me.”

It was turn for Leo’s eyebrow ridge to raise at the slight demand, and he just chuckled softly, obliging you as he lowered his arm around your shoulders to pull you close to his plastron.

“Yes Mrs. Hamatoooo.” 

You rolled your eyes at the slight whine in his tone with a soft huff and squirmed a little to get more comfortable. To do so, and to just cover all your bases in making sure Leo was NOT going anywhere, you lazily threw your arm over Leo’s waist and snuggled in close. You nuzzled your nose against his plastron with a soft mutter as sleep began to already encroach on the corners of your mind now that you were next to him.

“Well someone has to keep you humble.”

Leo looked down at you in surprise as you wrapped your arm around him, that all too familiar heat beginning to crawl up his cheeks. You really were a little Mrs. Feisty Pants weren't you? Not that he minded or anything. It was honestly one of the things he adored about you, being able to call him out like that and doing so in such a way that always made him feel like a million bucks. Still, he didn’t think he’d ever get used to you actively and consistently reaching out for him like this.

He couldn’t hold back the soft smirk that inched across his face as he saw the sleepy expression cross yours and before he had even realized he had even done it, found himself leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Good, I’d miss it if you ever stopped.”

You let out a small snicker at that, your nose wrinkling at the brush of his lips against your crown and reached up to cover Leo’s face with your hand, playfully pushing him away.

“Shhhhh shhh baby, it’s sleepy time.”

Leo chuckled at your pet name, and you could feel more than hear the rumble against you ear as you all but lean up against his chest. He slowly rubbed a palm up and down your blanket covered arm before leaning to press another absentminded kiss with a soft mumble.

“Naw, it’s time for you to get some sleep, Love. I still have some work to do.”

You let out a small grunt at that, your face scrunching in a small pout as you instinctively tightened your arm around his waist, your hand coming to mirror his as it slowly stroked up and down the side scutes of his plastron.

“Fiiiiiine…just…don’t stay up too late, mkay?”

Leo’s smirked softened at the obvious worry and displeasure in your tone and the feeling of affectionate tenderness grew as he watched your eyelashes flutter against your cheeks as you vainly tried to stay up. His hand continued its slow trek against your arm, and his voice dropped into a sacred whisper, not wanting you to stay up any more than you have to.

“Don’t worry Love, I won't.”

So back to work Leo went. Er…at least tried to. There was just one teeny tiiiiiny itsy bitsy wee little factor that was preventing him from doing so. 

Work. Was not working.

Leo’s brain could be described to something akin to an egg on the summer concrete the way it felt so fried. Nothing was clicking. Even the “new angle” as you so called it, was not helping in the slightest. Shell, he’d be staring at this page for so long that the words had started to swim like little black fish between his eyes. 

A hand came up to slowly drag down the length of Leo’s face accompanied with a most exhausted sigh. Yeah, he wasn’t getting anywhere with this tonight.

As if to emphasize said point, like the Universe itself was trying to grab his attention, Leo’s tympanum was caught by the subtle sound that had begun to escape from your parted lips as you all but lounged against his plastron. Leo blinked in surprise at the feeling of the heavy -laded breath that brushed across his chest before his lips curled up into a soft smirk at said sound. 

A sound that could only be described as a snore. Just a light little thing, more of a exhale of air than an actual sound. But it was the fact that you only snored when you were completely out of it.

Leo chuckled softly at the thought as he placed his paperwork onto the ground next to the couch and with his now free hand, curling a knuckle to gently knock your chin up so as to prevent you from drooling against him. It wouldn't be the first time.

Your face instantly scrunched up into a small frown at the displeasure of having something touch you in your sleep, and you instinctively raised a hand to swat against the unseen foe. Letting out a disgruntled little mumble, you shifted against Leo’s side, curling into him as if to try to hide your face against the intrusion. 

Leo’s smirk softened with fond amusement at your decidedly very grumpy face. You were always just so expressive, even in sleep, and he would never tire from trying to memorize each and every face that you would make. Even if he had to be a little turd at times to do so.

Still, you must have not minded, not really, not if you had continued to stick around like you did. Even going as far to marry this poor sap of a turtle he’d become.

He didn’t understand it, and he supposed that he never really would. Understand the fact that you could drop all walls and just fall asleep so quickly next to him without even a second thought. Mikey had said something in passing once that people only fell asleep in places where they felt safe or secure. And Leo, for the life of him, couldn’t fathom what he had done that made you feel safe enough to do so around him. 

Acting on pure instinct, Leo couldn’t help but reach up from where his hand had rested against your jaw to instead lightly trace between your brows, trying to ease the tension that had formed there with a gentle massage of his thumb. Watching with satisfaction at how with each stroke across your brow and cheek line, your eyelashes fluttered and you all but further slumped into his hand, the tension leaving you with a soft sigh.  

While your brow smoothed, Leo’s own brow furrowed, and his hand went still while cupping your cheek.

How on earth could you feel safe? How could you still reach out for him, still care about him, after everything he had done?

He was the reason that the entire world was in this mess, the reason behind every “Raph Chasm” on the faces of the people who passed by, and why you couldn’t sleep soundly anymore unless he was there. 

You and his brothers had told him repeatedly that what had happened wasn’t his fault, that there were more pieces at play then he could have ever handled. Despite all the reassurances, all the never ending support and dedication, it was in these still quiet moments, Leo found himself being haunted by the shadows of his own consuming demons. 

This was his fault.

All of this was his fault. 

And yet despite this, despite all the destruction and heartache his stupid stupid pride and self ego had caused, you still wanted him. You still could stand to even be in his presence, to still care and call him friend.

Enough so that you had…you wanted…you asked if he wanted…would be willing to create a future with you.

Leo’s breath hitched softly at the thought as he looked down at you, curled up so tightly against him, sleeping peacefully at his side like everything was right in the world now that you were close to him.

The realization that THAT is what you felt about him made his hand begin to tremble slightly against your skin. 

Not wanting the chance of his shaky hand to disturb your slumber, Leo quickly slid his hand from your face, back to cup your shoulder instead, thoughts of any previous failures or work fading away the instant he could feel the warmth of your body through the blanket underneath his hand, grounding him instantly into the present.

Feeling that warmth, that comforting and grounding weight, Leo suddenly decided that while you were close sitting by his side like this, you weren’t close enough.

He wanted more, wanted more of you. 

Moving ever so carefully, only as a well seasoned ninja could, Leo gently wrapped both of his arms around the back of your shoulders as he slowly fell backwards onto the couch, pulling you in tow until you were resting on top of him, laying flush upon his plastron.

The sudden shift of positions had you stirring from sleep, causing you to let out a soft questioning hum as your head blearily raised from Leo’s chest. 

Leo acted instinctively not wanting you to awake and to possibly see the unbidden moisture that had begun to form in his eyes, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your head and gently push it back down to strategically rest against above his heart. 

“Shhh shh, it's just me Love, just me. I’m finally going to get some sleep now. You ok with being my weighted blanket for a little bit eh?” 

Not waiting or really wanting a response, Leo’s hand came up to gently card his fingers through your hair in long smooth strokes, hoping to soothe you back into sleep. He watched with satisfaction as your eyes began to flutter close again and you let out a soft appreciative hum, resting more heavily against him into his hand. He couldn’t help but smirk softly at the feeling. Everybody had their happy spots, he supposed.

Leo could understand why. He knew that you tried your very best to take care of you tresses as best as one could during an alien invasion. But what he didn’t know was what woman magic you wielded here during the apocalypse that still made your hair silky smooth as it was. It was so soft. You were so soft.

His hand absentmindedly ran over the curve of your back and shoulders, always amazed at the slight give of your skin against the pressure of his hand. It made him think of how you were always giving, in every way you could. To him, to the rest of the Resistance, to every single soul who had the privilege of coming into contact with you. Such softness and warmth couldn’t be contained, to the point that it was engraved upon every inch of your delicate frame. 

Being a good-for-nothing ninja turtle, who was created literally to be a weapon, a tool, Leo didnt think he'd ever get the opportunity to be soft with someone with someone like this. Have the chance to take comfort in someone else’s body and presence, or have someone take comfort in the likes of him.

And yet here you were, resting on top of him, locked within the protection of his arms, sleeping as soundly as a babe. 

It surprised him even in the beginning of y’alls relationship. It still surprised him to this day because Leo, didn’t think he deserved anything good. Not ever again.

Leo looked down at you. If it were not for the heat and the comforting weight of you on top of him, he was pretty sure that he was dreaming. But for once, it wasn't a dream. Wasn't just a passing wish. No, you were here. You were really here. And that was all that mattered. 

Cradling you closer with one arm wrapping around your shoulders, Leo pulled you protectively flush up against his plastron. His other hand coming to gently dig his fingers through your hair at the back of your head, cradling you close enough that he could press a soft kiss to the top of your head.

His lips lingering over your skin as he absentmindedly peppered slow kisses on your crown and hair at random intervals whenever the affectionate urge hit, indulging in the tenderness that only comes out in these small moments.

Leo would fight any number of Kraang, plan as many ambushes as needed, and take any and every single chance if it meant he could keep you close like this.

Maybe, just maybe. For this one moment, he could let go. Leo could believe in good things again, he could believe in life, settle down and just appreciate this little tender moment with you.

Special thanks to my Beloved L’appel du Vide and @anobodyinabog for being my beta readers!

As well as a shout out to @firefly-graphics for the beautiful dividers!

[deadgirlwalking91]

new update - 'thank you for the venom', chapter 12: 'tell me what you thought about when you were gone, and so alone'

thank you @branded-rose and @a-dose-of-comatose for all your help with this chapter. i think we cracked a record with google doc comments for this one <3

“Bitch, you better not be getting water all over my bathroom,” he grumbled, holding his hands out in front of himself to avoid knocking into anything as he slowly made his way towards the bath.

“I’ll clean your wall before I go home, sir.”

He looked utterly ridiculous with that pillowcase over his head, but Lute had enough common sense to hold her tongue this time and not say anything about it. She shivered, hugging her chest as she waited for him to approach. Once Adam was close enough, Lute reached out and grabbed his sleeve, roughly guiding him towards the tub.

“Bit handsy there, babe.”

[crstn-art]

made anotherrrrr comic . smiles. no lore no themes. just pariging happenings and fluff

[sensationseekng]

izzy as the eight of cups - giving up and moving on, courage and loss, letting go of friends, lovers, and old ways of being

(that's the inn in the distance)

eight of cups description from Little Red Tarot:

[cerise-on-top]

heya, could you deliver someone kate head canons on how’d she’d be in a relationship! i adore your stuff by the way!!!! Thank ya

Yeah, of course I can! Glad to hear people like my silly HCs, imagines and drabbles! Thank you for the request, I hope you can enjoy it!

General Dating HCs for Laswell

First things first: There’s a chance you might not see her as often as you’d like. She has a very high position at the CIA, and thus works a lot in other countries as well. While Laswell does her best to make time for you, this isn’t always possible due to her job. However, when she does finally have time for you she doesn’t particularly want to leave your side either. Regardless of whether the two of you are relaxing while sitting on the couch and drinking tea or you’re at an amusement park, chances are Laswell will be by your side.

She’s not a fan of PDA, and that’s something you’ll have to respect. Laswell, generally speaking, isn’t that into physical contact with other people, not even you. You can ask her to cuddle every once in a while, you can ask her for a hug too, she won’t mind that too much, but too much physical contact is just suffocating to her. Laswell prefers to show her affection through other means. She has an amazing memory and remembers just about anything you say that might be useful. If you ever wanted a certain gift, Laswell has the means and the money to get it for you, even if you just made an off-handed comment once a few months ago. It will be yours eventually. And because she has a good grasp on how people react to certain things, chances are most of her gifts to you will be something you’ll like.

While she may not be a chef, she’s a pretty alright cook too. Cooking isn’t something she does very often, not that she hates it either, but she, more often than not, doesn’t have the time for it. Usually she just gets something on the go, eats out or orders takeout, but with you, if cooking is something you like, she’s more than happy to help you out. Just give her the order to cook the noodles or cut the tomatoes and she’ll do it. While she does like to make some chit chat with you at appropriate times, especially during cooking, if you prefer silence so you can focus better, then that’s okay as well. When she thinks a meal turned out especially well then she’ll have you try it by spoonfeeding you a bit.

Laswell is an older, but classy woman, she will want to go to fancy restaurants with you at some point just to drink some wine and maybe eat some fresh seafood. Naturally, you don’t have to eat some salmon and shrimp, but you don’t have to hold back either. If you want the pizza, the schnitzel or the burger, then that’s more than alright as well, but please, at the very least, consider the steak and the champagne. Considering the restaurants she picks are very expensive, it’s very likely that she’ll be paying for the food there. You can return the favor by paying next time you’re out to eat Chinese at the buffet or, if you want to, you can also just help her a bit with the chores and do a few more of them. This isn’t her trying to get out of doing them, though, she just wants to spoil you and show you the world of upper class people.

If you want to spoil Laswell as well, then I can tell you that unless your workplace pays you very well, you likely won’t be able to afford the things she likes. Whiskey or wine of several hundreds of dollars are not very cheap, so Laswell won’t mind you not getting her anything like it as well. However, she can appreciate you remembering the small things about her. You remember her liking lambs and got her a cute keychain? You made her the salmon filet she likes so much? Bought her favorite movie on DVD? Yeah, she notices and will be grateful. Those small things, however, might sometimes turn into something bigger with how she always likes to repay her “debts”. And so, an I love you has turned into a vacation in the Maldives at one point.

Will want you to be acquainted with either Nikolai, Price or both, preferably. Because she’s aware something bad can happen any time, she wants you to know them so that, in case something bad happens, you have someone to turn to. Besides, they’re her closest friends, she knows she can trust them with you. If you get along with them? Even better! That way she can invite you to the occasional drink with them and you can talk about anything and everything. And if you ever were in trouble and couldn’t reach her, then either of them would always pick up, no matter what. Your safety goes above all else, of course, but sometimes, some things can’t be prevented entirely, so it’s for the best you know them.

Overall, she’s a very caring partner, regardless of whether she’s your girlfriend, fiancée or wife, she’ll make sure you’re always happy. She’s been through enough herself to know what it’s like to be unhappy with where you are in life, so it doesn’t matter to her what she needs to do in order to see you smile again. Make sure to return the love and you’ll find yourself with one of the most loving, loyal partners out there. She’ll go to the end of the world and beyond to find you and make sure you’re okay. Make her a warm meal, give her some nice gifts and spend your time with her, the last thing is all that Laswell really wants in her life. As long as the two of you are together, she’s sure everything will be alright.

[shiverandqueeef]

the xchange rate sashayed so that monet's slumber party could shanté

[naturaldreamer]

I noticed you've answered this a few times already but... 📕 Any chance you have any more daydreams?

This one is recently!

I've been daydreaming of making a game where you're living in comfort with the Bad Sans and it's all wholesome and sweet. You'll make decisions on where to go to chat with the guys and there's no wrong answers.

You wanna go and cuddle with Dust? You can do that! You wanna help make lunch with Horror (Axe)? He would love that! Train with Cross? He would love to teach you!

Go be little shits with Killer? Hell yeah! The more the merrier! Or perhaps you just want to read a book in Nightmare's office, enjoying the peace and quiet conversations the two of you have.

The possibilities are endless and will continue to change no matter what decision you make.

It'll all lead to a happy, comforting ending. (Or perhaps a beginning?)

[acradelius]

hi! could you do a dom, giving moira and sub, receiving fem reader? i love how you write her :) maybe some action in her office/lab with a strap too ? tysm!

"Let's See How Well You Handle This One, Coinín~"

Fandom: Overwatch / Overwatch 2

Pairing: Moira O'Deorain x Female! Reader

Rating: Lemon [🟡] - (NSFW!)

Warnings/Mention Ofs: MDNI, Implied Non-Established/Possibly "Secretive" Relationship, Scientist / Scientist Assistance Relationship, Female x Female Relationship, Female Pronouns For Reader, Dominant! Female x Submissive! Female, "Mean, Punishing"! Moira, Possessive! Moira If You Squint, Strap-on Usage - Giving! Moira/Receiving! Reader, Clit Teasing, Nipple Play, Silicone P in V, Orgasm, Teasing With Cock-warming.

Word Count: 768 Words

Notes: This piece is technically considered to be a sequel part to this piece: "Quite The Punishment, Isn't It?"

If you'd like to be tagged for all posts, for certain fandom posts, or certain character posts then feel free to message me!

Those neat stacks of paper of research from the laboratory assistants that had taken quite some time to go through and essentially grade were now a disheveled mess amongst the floor, yet, Moira didn’t necessarily care for that at this moment. Why would Moira need to worry about some feeble papers about research that she was probably already aware about when she has something better presented in front of her? Despite that she was completely flustered, her skin slightly flushed from the situation at hand, that (Y/N) still looked absolutely stunning laying bare naked on Moira’s desk, clothes tossed aside on the floor to be forgotten about for the time being. “You did such a job well done, my dear Coinín~ While I would state that I’m surprised that you made it through the presentation without completely losing yourself to the immense please, you’ve been alongside me for quite some time now, so possibly you’re growing familiar to the punishments that I put you through~”

Moira could essentially state anything that she wants in that moment, but (Y/N)’s too preoccupied with the sight in front of herself despite laying on the desk to actually give a response. Especially since it was finally there for (Y/N) to actually view, for her to actually get to touch and experience with, that special gift that Moira had been hinting at for the last couple of weeks now. A custom made strapon. Being seven inches in length and three inches in width, colored with swirls of a glittering gold and an enigmatic purple from the tip down to the base of the cock. How it’s snuggly strapped onto Moira’s hips to rest against her pelvic, and how it just naturally blends in with Moira’s persona and aesthetic. Even for a moment (Y/N) swears that she could even see the cock throbbing, but it could be the arousal that was overtaking her mind.

There’s a brief moment where she proceeds to close her eyes in a moment of pleasure that courses throughout her body as Moira teasingly brushes the tip of the silicone cock against (Y/N)’s clit, chuckling softly. “Such an easy one to tease, such an easy one to please, aren’t you my dear Coinín?~” Watching as (Y/N)’s thighs twitch, clenching together slightly whenever that brief overwhelming rush washes over her body. Moira’s fingers trailing across (Y/N)’s skin, leaving lingering trails of an arousing fire, stopping amongst the various imperfections upon her skin as moreso a sign of reassurance that Moira loved (Y/N)’s body no matter how it looked. Gentle pinching and pulling at her nipples until they begin to perk and harden. Such a beautiful canvas waiting to be made into something more personal by Moira herself~

“More, please, Moira!~ F-Fuck, feels so good!~” (Y/N) manages to speak the words in between relentless moans and desperate whines, all those noises leaving her due to Moira’s rough, fast paced thrusts. Moira doesn’t mind that her thrusting is causing the desk to scrape against the floor, creating a loud scratching noise to echo throughout the air and scuff up the floor, she’ll get that fixed later. How (Y/N)’s fingers are tightly gripping the sides of the desk so much that they’re turning white, a feeble attempt to keep herself positioned on the desk despite moving quotes often from the force. A shiver courses throughout (Y/N)’s body at the additional sensations of Moira entangling her fingers within (Y/N)’s hair and firmly giving a yank followed by her other hand harshly smacking (Y/N)’s ass, a grin forming on her lips as the handprint, begins to form bright red and slightly irritated. 

 “Fuck!-” It’s quick to overcome and cause haywire to all of (Y/N)’s senses, the intense orgasm that finally unravels within (Y/N). How her body begins to tremble against Moira’s while her cunt flutters and proceeds to clench and unclench around Moira’s cock. Closing her eyes, (Y/N) lays her head amongst the desk as shaky breaths make way from her lips, basking in the afterglow of her orgasm. Only Moira knows how to give her pleasure beyond what she could imagine, and therefore, Moira is the only one that (Y/N) strives to be with, especially in moments as intimate as this one. “Such a job well done, (Y/N)~ Giving me excellent results as always~ Now, my dear Coinín, let’s see how long you can last keeping my cock warm while I grade the rest of these papers~”

[just-french-me-up]

hey hi i'm buzzing with the need for dreamling fic recs if you would be so kind as to point me in your favorite direction pls pls pls

Oh friend, you asked and I shall ✨ deliver ✨

DREAMLING FIC RECS 🌻✨

of my misery make thy use by @qqueenofhades (Explicit - WIP - 129k so far - In Universe, but with some tweaks, Rescue fic) Dream is Roderick Burgess' prisoner, in all his silent, sullen, naked glory, and has given up on the thought of anyone ever helping him out of there. Even Hob Gadling. Especially Hob Gadling. In fact, he's quite sure the man never wants to speak to him ever again, regardless of his current predicament. A bummer, really, because he also happens to be married to him. (Listen that fic has slain me EVERY WHICH WAY, it has EVERYTHING, it will take you PLACES (literally), it's rewarding as fuck, has OCs to die for, just... just read it, ignore the WIP status, what's there is absolutely chef's kiss)

the unknown and static strange by @qqueenofhades (yes, again, listen, if i loved you less i might be able to talk about it more bla bla bla) (Mature - WIP - 69K so far (nice) - Dubious AU status, Memento mets Academia, Modern day with a twist) Professor Robert Gadling, under cut rocking, weird dreams having, and trauma suffering, discovers a strange piece of undocumented art that seems to follow him everywhere he goes. The Regis Somnorum won't leave him alone, and as he tries to follow that thread, a whole mysterious tapestry unfolds, putting everything he knows, or thought he knew, into question. (This fic is a fucking delight, it's just KEEPS feeding you "oh shit" moments and suspense and revelations and the pacing just keeps you on the edge of your SEAT. Again, IGNORE the WIP status I BEG OF YOU, read it, devour it)

This Rough Magic by @avelera (Mature - WIP - 36k so far - Rescue fic with a twist) Hob Gadling never fancied himself a mage or a warlock, but dabbled enough in the occult to pick up a few tricks over the years, all in the hope to communicate with his Stranger. A stranger, he later discovers, who is trapped under Roderick The Fucking Magus Burgess's manor. Now, he may not be the best magic wielder there is.... but Burgess doesn't know that, does he? (There are some VERY clever things in this fic, everyone is written to a T, I love a fic where my loathing of Burgess can burn from the brightest flame and at the same time have him not like a cartoon villain but a full human being! Can't wait to see where that goes!)

if you just let me (have you, love you) by Lost_Elf (Explicit - 25k - Human AU - Adult Film Actors AU (I see you tumblr, restricting words these days, I see you) Both very prominent in their own niches of the Internet, Dom-BDSM-oriented Dream and Vanilla-centered Hob cross paths and plan what could be (or so their managers hope) the collab of the century. And they might learn a thing or two along the way. (Listen, I read this on a whim, I wasn't too into Human AUs at the time, I was up for some smut that day, and this fic is a LOT more wholesome than the subject lets on and really gripped me! Lots of very nice details in there! And also, you know.... smut)

by the minute by @issylra (Explicit - 11K - Human AU, Sex Phone Operator Dream) Dream has a bet with Desire : he has to manage a phone sex line for some time. He's not thrilled by it. Callers are... unimaginative and unoriginal, to say the least. Except one. He has a very nice voice. He's funny. And he sounds just about as lost as he is, in life. (The tags make it sound super raunchy but it's more about developping attraction through someone's voice and getting to know someone through the phone and falling in love and.... it's just lovely, it's very sweet, it's like a little blanket with a warm cup of tea, really)

Now I KNOW this is not what you EXPLICITELY asked for but.... dare I suggest..... something with an OC thrown in the mix? Cause that's just adding a fun player to the game, with added stakes, really!

as heart for heart, for loving me by @kittttycakes (hello darling) (Explicit - WIP but soon to be finished - 151k so far - Canon compliant - OT3 if there ever was one - How to polyamory, a guide for Dream of the Endless, a primordial being who needs to use his goddamn words) When Dream finds Hob at the New Inn, he's ready to open up a little. Be a friend. Be a little more than that, though he can't quite articulate it. The only issue with that is that Hob has a girlfriend. A live-in girlfriend. A very much serious girlfriend. Dream tries his darnest to hate her, and finds he can't quite bring himself to. (It's soft, it's lovely, it has angst, it has smut, it has fluff for days, it has developping relationships GALORE (plural) and it's just a nice read to switch up your rotation, cause the potential for situations is tripled now!)

[doodliver]

Sons c:

I was supposed to just focus on Killua for a current comm but his dynamic with Gon was so wholesome (almost like siblings c': ) that I decided to check the anime itself

[le-fruit-de-la-passion]

Two Hours - Chapter 1 - Shigaraki x Reader

***

Maybe, just maybe, some things might be worth waiting for.

***

Two hours.

He was late by a full two hours. Meaning 120 minutes, 2700 seconds, 7200000 precious milliseconds wasted of your life. You'd know, you counted.

You glared at the library clock again, as if it was its fault you had been stood up. Disgruntledly, you pushed back your chair, getting up to put your laptop and revision materials back in your bag. It was the last time you'd try and help a stranger because clearly, strangers sucked.

You had done tutoring for different classes since your second year in college. Literature, philosophy, anthropology, history- name it, you could teach it. And you loved doing it like few other things made you happy. Was there anything as wonderful as showing others the beauty of human nature, its creativity, its passion, its sincerity?

"Sincerity my ass," you thought, angrily shoving your backpack on one shoulder. It clunked loudly as it bumped against a wooden shelf, and the librarian threw you a dirty look from the other side of the room. Part of you felt bad; you had spent a while trying to cultivate a good relationship with the older man, since you spent most of your free time in the library. But the rest of you, which was to say almost all of you, didn't care, because you were unbelievably frustrated.

You had had students give you tons of excuses before: they were sick, their mom was sick, their neighbors' dog was sick, and they just had to skip the tutoring session. You didn't mind that; they'd always text at least an hour in advance, and you'd have the time to read their message and go home with a smile, instead of walking all the way to the library. 

But today's guy was different. You knew he had your number and your email address: it was part of the tutoring agreement you had both signed online. And yet he hadn't had the decency, the respect, to send a single message to tell you he couldn't come to the two-hour appointment he himself scheduled. And now, you had just wasted two hours, excitedly waiting to expose the wonders of literature to a guy who couldn't even bother to text you "can't come". 

You gave the librarian a half-hearted nod of apology and headed toward the big glass doors at the front of the building. The weather looked moody outside, the sky grey and heavy like rain could start pouring at any moment. You didn't need to check your bag to know you didn't pack an umbrella. It was clear this was one of the days.

Sighing, you opened the heavy door to walk out at the same moment a man pushed to get in. You tucked your body to the side to keep the door open for him, but he flatly ignored the gesture, walking past you without uttering a "thank you".

"Yup," you thought, "strangers suck."

Before you could take more than a few steps outside, a droplet of water fell right on top of your nose, stopping you in your tracks. And then another, and another, and in a flash, the area was getting flooded, puddles already forming around on the dark asphalt. You couldn't help as another sigh escaped you, bracing for the impact of the freezing rain as you took a step forward into the tempest.

Then, something grabbed you by the shoulder.

You yelped in surprise and turned around, fists instinctively bunching up to your chest to protect yourself, heart racing. It took you a few seconds to recognize the rude guy who had just passed you on his way in.

He was tall, taller than you had first realized. His oversized hoodie made it hard to gauge his frame, the visibly worn-out fabric stretched shapelessly around his torso. Your eyes looked up for a face you couldn't find: the black hood fully obscured his features, and for a second, images of killers in horror movies alarmingly flashed through your mind.

You shoved yourself out of his grip and took a step back, eyes wide. He nonchalantly placed his hand back in his pocket, an unimpressed glare staring right back at you. His eyes were red, bright red.

"You're the tutor, right?"

You looked at the ominous figure incredulously.

"What ?"

"You're the tutor, right ?" he repeated in a low, raspy tone. He sounded annoyed.

You kept staring at him, wondering if he was speaking in a foreign language you had never heard of.

Then, his words started registering.

"Tomura..." you started uncertainly, the math adding up in your head as you remembered the name on the little manilla folder you had prepared for today, "Shigaraki ?"

A small smile etched itself onto the man's face, and you noticed how cracked his lips were, a faded scar going through the dried skin. Strands of slightly greasy hair, white as snow, rebelliously escaped the black hood, and for a second you caught another glimpse of his crimson eyes. But they disappeared back under the shadow of the fabric, and you realized your body had tensed like a rock.

"I'm the guy," he said nonchalantly, the hand you had pushed away going up to his neck and mindlessly scratching the skin there. There were marks there, some old, and others so fresh they looked like they were bleeding. Anxiously, you wondered if instead of a killer, you had stumbled on an addict.

"Hey, so when do we go get a seat inside? It's fucking cold out here," he added, gesturing lazily towards the library.

You kept staring.

And staring.

And staring.

He hadn't possibly said what you thought he had just said. No one was so impossibly clueless and self-centered that they would come two hours late to a meeting and act like they were the one who was being bothered. But the cold rain falling down your face made it aboundedly clear: this was real.

"No," you finally said, enunciating the word slowly.

He looked as confused as you first did, the smug, composed look on his face instantly falling. He didn't look like he was told "no" often, and you felt the flame of anger start to burn inside you.

"What do you mean, no?"

"I mean no," you replied drily, feeling confidence coursing back through your body. There was no doubt in your mind you already looked like a drowned rat from the rain, and that your waterproof mascara was starting to reach its limits. But you weren't about to be scared of some loser trying to look tough with a crusty hoodie and unwashed hair.

"You came two hours late for the tutoring, which lasts two hours. My work slot with you is from four to six, and it's exactly," you snapped, bringing your phone up to his face, "Ten past six, so my work here is done."

He stared at your phone in incomprehension, then back at you, irritation slowly settling on his pale features. His thin brows frowned, and you noticed another scar marring his right eyelid the piercing crimson stare bore into you. Maybe he was some kind of gang member, and if so, was it a good idea to mouth off to him?

"Look, I don't know what crawled up your ass, but I'm paying to have a tutor," he snarled drily. "That's not fair."

You had to wonder if you were even talking to an adult. So maybe he was a killer, or an addict, or a gang member, and he would end up stabbing you for it, but by God, were you going to put that guy back in place.

"Well, tough luck, buddy," you almost spat out, your usually level-headed patience entirely fizzled out, "it wasn't fair to make me wait two hours and then expect me to have nothing other to do in my life than tutoring your sorry ass. But life isn't fair, is it ?"

You turned around, throwing the man one last angry look: "If you want tutoring, then be there next week. On time."

You felt oddly proud of yourself as you walked away, leaving him wet and alone in the rain. And if you were slightly trembling at the feeling of the crimson stare boring through you all the way down the library path, well, you just had to pray he didn't notice it.

---

"Huh," you noted with both surprise and apprehension, "you're here."

And indeed, there he was, slumped in one of the library's chairs, the stranger you were certain wouldn't come to your meeting this week: Tomura Shigaraki.

You had spent a few days feeling bad about the way you had handled things; yes, he had been incredibly late and entitled, but you never gave him any time to explain himself for it all. Maybe he did have a good reason, and maybe he had only acted so entitled because he was having an especially rough day.

One look at the condescending glare he threw you was enough to confirm that wasn't the case.

"Yeah, I'm here," he muttered, looking away, his right hand still ripping away at his neck like the last time you had seen him. You couldn't help but wonder about the gesture, the practiced way his fingers would visibly carve into the skin. Allergies? Eczema?

His vermillion eyes never left your figure as you put your bag down and awkwardly sat across from him, looking down at the carpeted floors. 

"Why are you that surprised ?" he added flatly, "I told you, I'm paying for this shit."

You weren't a confrontational person; or at least, you did your best to avoid confrontation. But you'd been tired last week, and his whole little disrespectful charade had pushed you over the edge. You weren't sure you were up to deal with it again.

Your lack of response seemed to irritate him; he picked up a small handheld console from his lap, immediately busying himself in a game like your presence held no meaning to him.

You took a small breath, not wanting your temper to rise again; if you wanted this to work, you'd need to be the first to give the olive branch. You put on a nice, professional smile: "Let's put everything to the side for a moment, start over. Maybe we could both introduce ourselves again ?"

His thumbs toyed with the joysticks on his handheld, disinterest palpable."Why? I know who you are."

You could have strangled him.

"Nevermind," you smiled so forcefully it hurt your cheeks. "So, you're here for Lit 3250, Absurdism in Literature. That's a fun class."

"I'm only taking it because I have to," he grumbled. "I'm in computer programming. They make us take a class in the humanities department because the education system is fucked."

You raised an eyebrow at that, genuinely surprised: "They're making you do literature in computer science ?"

He shrugged, his eyes going back to the game on the small screen with obvious boredom.

"Told you. The system is fucked."

You pulled out the little manilla file you had prepared for him from your bag, spreading a few documents on the table between the two of you. For a second, you could have sworn his bored expression flickered into something new, but it was gone before you could register it.

"Well, I might not be able to do much about that, but I can try and make the class easier," you smiled a little more genuinely this time as he put his handheld to the side to look at the papers you had slid in front of him.

To your complete astonishment, as you guided him through the material, the man listened, never once taking notes, yet able to answer any question you threw his way in the shortest, most concise way possible. He seemingly absorbed the information while looking wholeheartedly disinterested, like remembering the words was barely any more work than eating or breathing. You had to wonder if the programmer in him coded the sentences in his mind, imputing every word as little lines of binary code, or if he was just this naturally, annoyingly smart.

"Alright, that's it for today," you concluded, noticing you had gone over the material you had planned for two sessions in just the last two hours. "I didn't take you for the kind of guy to listen to a tutor, but you've done a really good job today."

You gave him an honest smile, hoping to finally mend the bridge from last weekend's incident. Instead, he promptly looked away, lips tightening into a thin line.

"S' just cause I need to pass the class to get my diploma. I don't really give a shit about any of this stuff."

If he saw your face fall at that, he didn't show it. He grabbed his handheld and shoved it in his front pocket, promptly throwing his ragged backpack over his shoulder, as if the last thing he wanted was to stay here a minute longer with you.

"I'll see you next week, then," you hesitantly said, more a question than a statement. He didn't look back at you when he spoke with a grunt, already making his way out.

"Whatever."

---

"So Camus' thing is society is fucked, and as soon as you realize it you gotta kill yourself, right ?"

"Basically !" you beamed excitedly, circling a paragraph in the text facing him with the tip of your finger. "It's the idea that when you understand your role as just a cog in the machine in a mindless daily life, you have to either ignore it to rejoin society, or leave society altogether." 

A small smile danced on Shigaraki's chapped lips, as smug and mocking as all his smiles were. You sometimes wondered if his face could ever express pure, genuine happiness, or if it was perpetually stuck with that self-satisfied expression. 

"Yeah, I can get behind that."

It fit him, in a strange way. And he had every reason to be pompous: in three weeks, you had both gone through double the material you had planned for his first sessions, as be blasted each lesson like a simple tutorial fight in one of the many video games you'd catch him play before each lesson.

"Me too, actually," you agreed.

He looked at you disbelievingly: "You? Feeling like you're not a part of society? Give me a break, you're a tutor in university, there's probably a normie award for that."

"Well, even us normies are really just always doing the same thing, aren't we ?" you explained, laying your chin against your hand pensively. "Take the two of us. We always meet here at four o'clock on Wednesdays, at the same library, at the same table. We don't go through the motions because we want to, we do it because we have to, and that's what everyone expects from us. Kinda makes you want to quit society too, doesn't it ?"

For a moment, he said nothing. There was something unsettling in the way his ruby eyes bore into you, like he was judging your very soul. You felt your cheeks unwillingly redden after a few seconds under his piercing stare, looking away in slight embarrassment. If a few weeks spent with him were enough to convince you he wasn't a serial killer, you still found yourself troubled whenever he'd look at you too long.

He finally seemed satisfied with whatever he found looking into you, eyes mercifully leaving your face before settling on something on the table.

"That's a Plus Ultra sticker," he commented flatly.

You followed his gaze to your cellphone, face down, the small video game logo barely visible on the cover. How had he even noticed it? 

It wasn't that you were ashamed of gaming in your free time, but you knew for a fact the entire literature department bore a clear disdain for any media not printed onto pages. They laughed off anything else as childish and a waste of time. Needless to say, you had never shared that passion with anyone on campus before that moment.

But damn, did you love Plus Ultra.

You couldn't help but grin excitedly at him: "Oh wow, you play too !"

"Sometimes," he shrugged with obviously fake disinterest, his crimson eyes brighter than you had ever seen them before."It's not the best game or anything, but it's alright. I feel like the whole hero fantasy trope is kinda overplayed."

He suddenly clammed up, like he had just remembered who he was talking to. The classic sour, haughty look you had gotten to know reappeared on his face.

"I just didn't know any girls played that game," he mumbled.

And there he was, the asshole you had met on that first rainy day. 

"Well," you replied drily, "I play, and I'm actually one of the top All Might players in the country."

His pale fingers tremored at that, the excited brightness that he was trying very hard to conceal back in his eyes. It was so childish it was almost endearing, in a way.

"Well, what a coincidence. I'm also a top All Might player, except I was in the world ranking, last time I checked," he bragged, nonchalantly picking at his fingernails. "Maybe I could teach you a thing or two later." 

As soon as the words left his mouth, the implication of a "later", of a world where you would be together outside of the required tutoring time, seemed to dawn on him. He stammered wordlessly, red spreading like fire on his pale face. It was... a lot more endearing than you would have thought.

"F-forget it. That was stupid."

You couldn't help but soften at that. Maybe, underneath the dirty hoodie and the deadly glare, he was as timid and insecure as you felt he was. The lashing out, the quips, the bratty entitlement- were they all just a facade for a guy who genuinely didn't know how to interact with others?

 "Well," you hummed, "maybe after you're done with your midterms you could come over to my dorm for a match. There's a big communal TV you can pair consoles with."

The cold, detached mask was back, but it was much harder to believe with the pink coloring that reached the very tip of his ears.

"Yeah, maybe."

---

A month passed before you encountered your first hurdle in your tutoring work with Shigaraki, in the form of a "CLOSED" sign glaring back at you from the library's glass doors.

"Damn it," you mumbled, opening up your phone to find an unread message from the faculty announcing a temporary shutdown. Shigaraki, who had taken up the habit of coming on time for your sessions, looked incredibly pissed.

"So the fuckers think they can send one email and be done with it ?" he angrily snapped, kicking the library's plexiglas door so harshly it made you flinch. You took a mental note to never do anything to find yourself on the wrong side of that kick.

"Well, we can reschedule for tomorrow!" you chirped. Perhaps he'd appreciate you trying to put a positive spin on the situation.

The look he gave you could have turned you into dust.

"I'm already here. And I'm busy tomorrow. I have important things to do."

Briefly, you wondered if by important things he meant staying home and gaming. The college's main campus wasn't very large, and in the few years you had studied here, you had never caught a glimpse of him once. He had the kind of dim presence one could easily forget, but if you had passed him before, you would have known.

"I think the law building lets you take rooms for study sessions, " you proposed.

He sighed, voice raspy with irritation. "It's full of pretentious assholes," he replied drily, "and it's almost a thirty minutes walk from here."

"You're kind of a pretentious asshole yourself", you thought silently. It was clear he wasn't going to help or do anything that required too much effort on his part. When Shigaraki wanted to be annoying, he was really annoying.

"You got a better option ?" you mumbled, frustrated.

He looked down at his shoes, suddenly silent. "Ah ha", you thought victoriously, "didn't think so".

Then, words you could have never expected came out of his mouth: "Yeah. Come to my place."

You looked at him incredulously. He looked as surprised as you did, like he wasn't the one who had just talked.

"I live like ten minutes from here," he explained hurriedly, glaring down at the asphalt like it might melt and swallow him whole, "it'll take way less time."

It wasn't as if you didn't know the guy at all, but to say you knew him enough to go to his house, alone, was a stretch.

Although you had been able to shake off your initial fear of him, you still felt something dark and looming in the way he carried himself. For as easy as it was to read him when he was embarrassed or caught off guard, the calculating, sharp gaze he seemed to judge the world with still left you at a loss. Even more so right now, when it was directed at you.

"Ok," you eventually said before you could decide against it. What was the worst that could happen?

At first, you hadn't had much reason to worry; you walked along the main streets that cornered the campus, still filled with quite a few students going about their business. But then, he took you into a small alleyway. And then another, and another, and another, to the point where you couldn't recognize what part of the city you were even in. The buildings you passed had gotten older and older the more you walked, most of the ones surrounding you were now decrepit and abandoned. They loomed over you and Shigaraki, fully blocking the sun, a claustrophobic maze of old bricks and concrete.

You realized that you had drifted closer to Shigaraki unconsciously, your shoulder almost brushing against his. But you couldn't bring yourself to move away, the simple proximity of someone you at least relatively knew reassuring to your mind.

If Shigaraki noticed, he said nothing, his long, lanky legs moving forward without hesitation. You took a moment to discreetly observe the man, his features more detailed now that you stood next to him. The scarring was much worse than you had first realized. It spread from the small glimpses of his forehead you could see behind strands of shaggy white hair, to the start of his chest hidden by his black shirt. In some spots, the skin looked dry, old; in others, it was like it had been freshly ripped apart by sharp and uneven nails. You had found it worrying for yourself, at first, when you thought he was some kind of junkie; but now you found yourself worrying over how much the bruising hurt him.

His hand protectively grabbed his neck when he noticed your staring, thin eyebrows frowning in annoyance.

"Before you ask, yes, I've tried creams and ointment and all that shit the doctors send you to buy at the drugstore. It doesn't work. I know I'm ugly, you don't need to rub it in."

A pang of guilt hit your chest. You didn't think before honestly replying: "I don't think you're ugly."

He looked at you coldly, any trace of friendliness gone: "You think you're real smart playing with me, don't you?"

"No, I mean it, I don't think you're ugly!" you hurriedly exclaimed. "Just, ok, look."

You quickly pulled back the sleeve of your shirt, showing him the inside of your forearm with insistence. His eyes narrowed suspiciously: "What the hell am I supposed to look at?"

"A scar," you replied, showing him the thin pale line that crossed your skin. "I got it as a kid when I fell from a tree in kindergarten. Oh, and I also have this one!"

You tugged at your pants to reveal a darker webbed mark on your ankle, the skin smoothed by time: "That one is really stupid, I got it from wearing heels three sizes too small at my high school prom and falling down a flight of stairs. And I also have this other one-" 

"I get it !" he interrupted, frustrated. "Yeah, alright, you have some scars too, but it's not the same thing as me."

"I know it's not," you replied calmly. "I'm not trying to say it is. But... I don't think having scars makes me ugly. I think they show I've been through something, and I'm still here to tell the story. And I think you might have been through a lot, but you're still standing here with me. So... if you don't think my scars make me ugly, then you shouldn't think yours do."

 

He didn't reply, silently making his way forward. Had you made him feel angrier, or even embarrassed? In one last effort to get your point across, you added:

"I think they kind of make you like Eraserhead in Plus Ultra 3."

That made him stop right in his tracks.

"You...think I look like Eraserhead ?" he hesitantly asked.

You nodded, and his cheeks reddened slightly. He took a few seconds before letting out the next words:

"Don't laugh," he warned you, "or I'm leaving you here. You can just find your own way back or get murked in an alley for all I care."

You crossed your fingers, presenting them to him ceremoniously.

"I won't laugh. Promise."

"I actually decided to grow out my hair to look like him."

Cute.

That was the first word to come into your mind. Cute. 

You quickly chased the very strange and unwelcome thought away, in case Shigaraki interpreted your pause as a laugh. 

"Well," you replied, "when I was seventeen, I dyed my hair bright yellow to look like All Might. I think I definitely got the short end of the stick in the idea department. "

He laughed, honest to God laughed, a raspy and genuine sound that made something foreign in your chest tightened. You started laughing too, and soon, you were nothing but two giggling idiots in the absolute middle of nowhere.

"Guess you're not that smart after all, miss tutor," he commented with a smirk.

His eyes lingered on you for a moment too long, like he wanted to say something else, but ultimately chose against it. He continued walking without a word, and you followed him the rest of the way in companionable silence, never straying far from his side.

---

It was a bar.

Or rather, the remains of something that once was a bar. A dingy neon sign with the three-letter word hung precariously above the door, the large "B" flashing within an ounce of its life. The walls were covered in graffiti and grime, a suspiciously moldy smell seemingly emanating from the bricks themselves.

"You... live here?" you asked hesitantly as Shigaraki made his way towards the building with no hesitation.

"Yeah," he let out, head snapping back around and eyes narrowing defensively. "You have a problem with that?"

Yes, several, including the probability of being stabbed to death here and my remains being found in the back of a garbage truck.

"No, no problem," you said.

He answered that with a grunt. The small staircase that lead to the entrance creaked under his weight, and he pushed the front door open.

"Wait here," he commanded. It was clear the subject wasn't up for discussion, so you opted for nodding along. "I'll come get you when I'm done with something."

It was all starting to feel like a terrible idea. So what if he liked the same games you did and actually seemed to listen to you rant about literature? You barely knew anything else about him. 

You knew he felt lost in society and rejected by the world. You knew his whole face would become red as a tomato anytime he felt embarrassed or flustered. You knew he would bite his lip in concentration when he played on his handheld, and that his leg would bounce up and down like a puppy's tail every time he got close to winning. You knew his eyes were unlike any you had seen before.

But what did you really know?

"You lost ?"

You spun around so fast you stumbled on your own feet, almost falling straight onto the dirty pavement.

The man standing in front of you had sneaked by so silently you had never registered his presence, even with how close he had gotten. He seemed very amused at the way you backed away in fear, your eyes wide.

"No, no I'm fine, I'm- I'm waiting for a friend, actually," you managed to stammer out.

Somehow, he didn't look like he believed that at all.

He was the picture-perfect example of men your parents had told you to stay away from. His skin was covered in dark tattoos, their shapes incomprehensibly mingled with what appeared to be burn scars, seemingly spreading all over his body. In the dark, one could mistake him for a walking corpse, blue eyes glistening unnaturally in the middle of a patchwork face.

The man dragged his cigarette across his lips, letting a dark puff of smoke escape.

"What a friend, making you wait outside in the cold," he commented, the burnt and inked skin around his mouth moving in a manner you could only describe as uncanny. "Pretty stupid of you to hang out with people from here, princess. Lots of creeps in the area."

He moved closer, so close you could smell the tobacco off his breath, and the instinctive need to run coursed through your body.

"No need to be scared though," he let out with a smirk that screamed the absolute contrary. "I can stay with you for a while. Protect ya."

He was too close for you to run, now; if you tried, he could easily grab you with the large hand that was nonchalantly making its way toward your waist. 

"Dabi."

Your head spun towards the entrance at the same time as the man's did. Relief spread through your body at the sight of Shigaraki, standing in front of the door where he had left you. His crimson gaze, which usually never left your form alone for more than a few seconds, was not focused on you, but on the stranger, who looked back at you with an utterly flabbergasted expression. Whoever he was, Shigaraki wasn't happy to see him.

"That's your friend ?" the stranger snorted as he started laughing uncontrollably, like he had just heard the funniest joke in his life. "Holy shit, you're even dumber than I thought you were !"

Clearly, Shigaraki did not find that funny in the slightest. You had forgotten how cold his expression had been when you first met him, uncaring and eerie. This was that, but colder, angrier, like the ripples that started forming in the water as a devastating storm would approach.

"Dabi," he repeated, and his tone was dark, final. For the first time in weeks, you felt something akin to fear at the sight of him, even knowing his anger wasn't directed at you. Had he always looked so unnervingly intimidating?

"Ok, ok, she's all yours, boss," the man finally said as he backed away, dropping the butt of his cigarette before unceremoniously stomping it. "Didn't mean to touch the property."

Tomura silently walked towards you, a rigid, cold hand forcefully grabbing yours and pulling you towards him. He headed back in, fingers so tightly clutched against yours that it hurt, and you followed without protest. You threw one last look at the man he called Dabi, a look of pure amusement on his face.

"Property", he had said. 

The innards of the bar were much cozier than the outside view let on. It was relatively well kept, with a red counter with a few retro-style stools occupying the majority of the space, the leftover corner dedicated to an old leather couch facing a battered TV. With no windows on the walls, the only light came from a few yellowish neons hanging on the ceiling. The room was empty except for the well-dressed man behind the counter, who you could only assume was the bartender. He merely nodded at your arrival, his face obscured by a cloud of dark hair in the dim light, what you could discern of his body barely a shadow against the wall of bottles.

Shigaraki ignored him, pointedly dragging you to a door at the back, which lead to a small, dark corridor. He only stopped when he reached the last door, swiftly turning the rusty knob.

It wasn't difficult to understand it was his bedroom; the only light came from the double monitor screen connected to an impressive gaming PC. With the exception of a few shelves filled to the brim with trinkets and figurines, the walls were mostly bare, the white coat of paint discolored and yellowed. Visibly dirty clothes were pilled up in a corner, as if someone had hurriedly picked them up for the floor and tossed them there in an unsuccessful attempt to conceal them.

"Sit anywhere," he grumbled, looking away. "Or don't. Whatever."

He was even worse at hiding his blush than he was at hiding his clothes. You couldn't help but smile.

There were only two spots you could sit in the room: the expensive-looking gaming chair, which was clearly the most valuable item in the entire bar, or the messy one-person bed, which seemed to not have seen a washing machine in a while. The last thing you wanted was to anger Shigaraki after the encounter with the man outside, so sitting in his gaming chair seemed like a bad idea. You opted for the bed, praying to God the sheets naturally looked so patchy and discolored.

"W-what the fuck are you doing?" he sputtered immediately as you sat, eyes wide.

"Sitting," you replied simply.

"Not there! Are you stupid or something?" he audibly cringed. Damn it, you had made the wrong call. "Just sit on the floor. It's not dirty or anything, Kurogiri cleaned it recently."

You glanced doubtfully at the impressive amount of energy drinks and used tissues littering the room before lowering yourself down out of fear of seeming rude. Briefly, you wondered if Kurogiri was the man you saw mend to the bar. He looked nothing like Shigaraki, and referred to him far too politely to be family. He was too young to be his father either way. Was he both the bartender and the housekeeper?

"But why would Shigaraki have a housekeeper?", you wondered silently

"The guy outside, Dabi," you finally said. "He called you boss."

Shigaraki didn't even bother turning around to answer flatly: "And ?"

"Do you... own this place?"

"Something like that. Here."

He handed you a controller you immediately recognized, your hands automatically wrapping themselves around it just like with the one you had spent countless hours playing with at home. Shigaraki smirked slightly at the sight of you already being ready for combat.

"So, spill it out. What's your tragic backstory ?" you asked, leaning your back to the wall with a mischievous smile.

"What ?" he replied, seemingly caught off guard.

"C'mon," you pressed. "I've never seen you wear anything other than a black hoodie over a black shirt and black sweatpants. You're not subtle about it."

"I don't think you've unlocked that dialogue option yet," he retorted, with more than a hint of sarcasm in his tone. "How about you? What's your tragic backstory ?"

You chuckled: "What makes you think I have one?"

"You'd have to be a little fucked up to follow some guy you barely know into a shady bar in the middle of an abandoned factory district," he replied, raising an eyebrow, a wicked smile on his lips.

You couldn't help but smile at that; he was right. "Well, I don't think you've unlocked that yet either, Shigaraki."

"Just call me Tomura," he offered, a touch of resignation in his voice. Was he finally warming up to you? "Might as well if I'm stuck with you for the rest of the semester."

Maybe not. But something felt oddly nice about this, about him, and no matter how weird it all was, you couldn't help but let yourself bask in the strange feeling.

The computer let out a familiar little tune as the game booted up on the screen. Shigaraki visibly hesitated between sitting on his own chair or the floor, ultimately selecting the floor while keeping a reasonable distance from you. You had a feeling he wasn't very comfortable with women. But what he may have lacked in social skills, he definitely made up in gaming: his eyes burnt with fiery passion as the title screen appeared on the monitor, his hands tight around the controller. The look he threw you was one of pure confidence:

"C'mon. Show me what you're made of."

He immediately selected All Might in the character selection, implicitly daring you to do the same. All Might was the most powerful character in all the game, but he was famously the hardest one to master, with his controls requiring intense speed and dexterity. You could tell Shigaraki hadn't been lying about being one of the greatest All Might players; his fingers were already lined up on the buttons for a noticeably hard deadly combo. But you weren't one to back down on a challenge.

"5 rounds. No bonus power-ups," you smiled right back at him, pressing the button to also select All Might. The screen flashed red as the game loaded the fighting arena.

"You're playing a pretty dangerous game, you know that, player two ?" he commented, a hint of warning in his tone.

"I don't intend on losing," you replied with a grin.

And if the wild spark in his eyes meant anything, neither did he.