#preferably after i’m done writing this one; which i am not

[writing-makes-me-human]

🌊Love And Guests🌊

┍━━━━━»•» 🌺 «•«━┑

Pairing: Aonung x reader

PART TWO: HERE

Summary: Aonung has put out your usual sass with his recent flirting and it’s driving you insane. When he finally gets to speak with you alone as he shows off his spear throwing expertise it gets heated quickly

Warnings: Sexual tension and heated word choices, no smut but it gets close, mention of genitals 

Word Count: 3.1K

A/N: No updates, I’m getting back into writing after months of breaks so I’m sorry if i’m rusty.  Also I feel like it goes without saying that Aonung is of age in all of my writing. I am not just writing about a minor, you are close in age. 19 years old.

┕━»•» 🌺 «•«━━━━━┙

"I still don't know why you think it's better that I teach you instead of my brother", Tsireya warmly suggested as she handed you a beginner's spear to practice with.

"Because I want to learn from the best", was all you managed to say as you took the spear in your hands and inspected it with wandering hands.

The real reason you were so eager to meet up with Tsireya instead of Aonung was laughable. Aonung had been playing a dangerous game with your feelings, making you feel a way you shouldn't to fuel your thoughts about the chief's son. Avoiding the brat to the best of your abilities for weeks now was the only way you could fight the fact you were slowly starting to become infatuated with the boy that was growing into a young man.

He had become cocky now that he was of age, and while he still had a few years of learning left before becoming chief, it had become clear his training was making him more and more defined. The way his body moved with every hearty laugh or every faux wrestling match with his friends drove you up the wall, so you decided it was best to try and stop seeing him altogether.

However, this was becoming a challenge as he had recently decided to spend more of his free time harassing you than anyone else. It was very confusing, as you thought you had put this bullying behind you when you were children. That could easily be forgotten, though, as he was indeed still the next leader, and that could explain his rudeness, but what couldn't be helped was the blush that overgrew you every time he towered over you with that smirk that he didn't know affected you in such unforgiving ways.

"Well, thank you, I'm flattered", she giggled, then continued, "but Aonung is the top in the clan at spear throwing, and he's not gonna be happy if he finds out you asked me instead of him", she never felt bad for her brother. Still, when it came to the matter of his undying yet, painfully expressed crush on you, she felt merciful.

You scoffed, squaring yourself next to her as you looked towards the targets drawn on the ground.

The target range for spear-throwing was closer to the village than any of the other training areas because you needed the clear ground to allow a large windup for hurling the stick through the air. It was still private, which you enjoyed because you had a feeling this was going to be an embarrassingly miserable display of physical prowess.

The targets were set up in the distance and made up of 3 circles of fine white sand sprinkled in precise shapes on the ground. Tsireya had already collected the sand earlier in the day and laid out the rings in exchange for you to be the one that churned the sand into the dirt when you were done so the next person who came to train could easily set up the rings and get started.

"I don't think I could handle his smugness at having me asking him a favor", you smiled at her, holding up the spear like you had seen Aonung and his friends do when they came here to learn when you were younger.

It was the truth. Honestly, you wouldn't have been able to handle his smug looks or laugh or the fact that to teach you meant one on one time by yourselves. You would prefer being lectured by Ronal, and that was saying something.

She nodded, trying to copy you as she held up the pointed end of the spear into the air, getting herself ready to fling the wooden spike. The artillery was too large for her, and you watched in curiosity as she heaved it up a little higher with a grunt.

"Alright, so what you want to do is pull back and using your back leg, you want to push--" she was cut off by the sound of laughter in the near vicinity. Before she could resume her instructions, you heard the sound of foliage and leafs being broken as a group of four boys emerged into the clearing, each of them but one with their spears by their side.

Aonung was still laughing at something Rotxo had said, but when he looked up and saw you, with your arms still raised as his sister mirrored you, he felt his heart skip a beat and his face light up with delight.

You cursed under your breath and dropped the stick like it was a venomous snake, instantly turning around to hide your slightly tinged face.

This was so unfair! He hadn't even said anything so far. All he had done was smile and laugh! He never had this much of a hold on you when he was younger. As he got older and his hair grew past his shoulders, and his muscles became larger, you became less aware of what to do with yourself.

"I have to go", you mumbled, feeling the tinge fade as you turned to pick up the burlap sack you had brought with you and leave for the village.

"Well, what is going on here?" Aonung called out in the conceited tone he saved for when he was talking to you. His deep voice boomed around the clearing, forcing its way into your ears and silencing the chatter between his other friends.

You didn't respond and instead made your way in the opposite direction they had come from, but before you could escape, a few words were yelled out, making your face nearly melt off your skull and onto the floor below you.

"Somewhere to be, pretty girl?" Aonung called out while his friends spread out, tossing down their training gear and lunches they had packed in preparation for a few hours of training.

You turned sharply, trying to calm your breathing so the blood would move from the gathering in your cheeks down to your heart which desperately needed the extra help because the poor thing was beating overtime.

"Just remembered I have somewhere to be", you said rather awkwardly, not allowing yourself to come across as timid but not quite having the energy to yell back at him with the same enthusiasm.

"Oh, come on! You said you wanted to learn from the best, and he's right here!" Tsireya spoke. She lay down her spear next to yours and jogged up to you. She grinned as she gently tugged on your hand, coaxing you to come and stand to talk to the boys who were checking over their weapons.

You sighed, then gave in, dropping the sack and letting her drag you over to Aonung, who was still standing in the same spot. As you walked over, he had a proud smile etched on his face, and you wanted nothing more than to slap it off.

Your face dropped so you could look anywhere but into his eyes that would have caught you in his dangerous trap of good looks and gentle teasing and never let you go.

"Come on, teach her!" Tsireya was far too excited, nearly jumping up and down while her older brother rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Who said I wanted to help?" He snarkly asked, then continued, "and next time you're thinking of using my spear, ask!" He spat, gesturing to the spike that was laid on the ground rather carelessly. That cleared up the question of why the spear had nearly tipped her over when she held it up.

She elbowed him roughly in the chest with her free arm causing him to bend down a little in pain and scowl at her, but no sound of agony came out.

He quickly straightened himself and snarled at Tsireya, but she gave him a pointed look before her eyes darted to you several times. After a few seconds, he finally got her unspoken threat and sighed, pushing past the both of you to walk over to collect his projectile.

You ignored the feeling of his hand burning on your shoulder as he pushed between you two, breaking the hold Tsireya had on you.

"Come on, pretty girl, let's see what you can do", he called out, not bothering to turn around because he knew you'd be following.

You looked over to Tsireya before you elbowed her yourself, questioning her with a look. She knew you didn't want to speak with him, yet here he was and instead of ushering him away, she had insisted he teaches you.

She simply shrugged at you and pushed you forward before running off to sit next to her brother's friends.

You passed by Rotxo and nodded to him in greetings which he returned before tucking into the fruits he had brought with him. He was chatting with his friends, who all found a spot under a nearby tree that was far enough away from the targets that they wouldn't hear you and Aonung's words to each other but still close enough that they could still see any funny failings.Your eyes settled on Aonung's back, and you took a deep breath, you didn't even have the shame to look away when he crouched down and picked up his spear, checking it over for dirt or marks.

"You watch me first, then you try", he said, glancing over to see you were watching him with eyes slightly wide at the idea of trying to copy his expert throw with an audience.

He smiled at you, which caused you to blush and break the stare you had been holding on his body, which only made him grin, thus continuing the terrible cycle.

"Eyes on me, nobody else is watching, so you can look at me as much as you want", he called you out with a smirk when you finally scowled, giving him a reaction that he couldn't help but chuckle at.

"I worry for anybody that enjoys looking at you", you hissed while taking a step back, knowing he would have to have some space to move when he threw the spike.

He didn't say anything this time but didn't have to. His eyes spoke for him as they shone like the sea on a sunny day.

"So she speaks! I was beginning to worry!" He watched you roll your eyes in amusement with a slight smile on your face, and he silently swore at himself in his head for turning so you wouldn't see his sly grin that he only got when he made you happy.

"Let's start", he wasted no more time and held the wooden stick over his head. You watched with slightly awestruck eyes as his body moved so purposefully.

He raised the spear, and using his other arm, he aimed to secure the direction he was throwing in. He could feel your eyes on him, and it made him cocky. He wanted to show off, to show you he was strong and worthy of praise.

He pulled back his left leg, then after taking a breath, he threw it with as much strength as it took to land directly in the centre of the target. They were far closer than he usually had them, but it was to be expected since you were a beginner.

The weapon shot through the air before the sharp spearhead dug into the ground with a thud, landing directly in the centre of the most petite ring. A perfect bullseye.

He leaned back with a satisfied grin. He turned to look at you with the hopes you would be at least slightly impressed. You were still staring, mouth open in an 'o' shape, struck somewhat by just how gifted at the sport he was, and it made a part of his internal body tingle when you turned with the look changing from amazement to an affectionate smile.

"I'll admit you aren't bad, I've seen worse", you couldn't help the smile anymore. He always had a way of killing off your anxiety, and right now was no different. His cocky grin made your heart speed up, but your mind just wanted to insult him until he dropped.

"If that's all it takes to impress you, I am afraid to know how easy it is to please you", he took no shame in his words, and your smile quickly dropped to embarrassed growls as you hid your face, turning to look over at his friends that were all talking to Tsireya about something at the same time. The discussion looked heated, and none of them paid attention to you two.

You watched, eyes as focused as ever. 

"Arrogant brat", was all you could get out as you looked down at your feet and kicked at the dirt.

"Oh, did I touch a nerve? I didn't know you were such a goody-goody", he didn't wait for your smart-ass answer and walked off to tug his spear out of the ground sharply. Your mind was reeling as you heard a soft grunt escape his lips as he yanked his prize out of the ground.

You shook your head and bent down to pick up the training spear you had been given, not taking notice of your position that had your back to the sky until you felt a hand smack into your backside harshly.

The slap was loud, making your face turn scarlet red as you jumped up, abandoning the spike to glare at Aonung with a death stare.

You were shocked, he had never been so bold with his teasing, and while it wouldn't have crossed a line had you been alone, you could feel the four pairs of eyes gawking at the back of your head.

"Don't", you gently warned. You didn't want to admit it, and you knew it was wrong, and the pompous imp should have been ashamed of himself, Aonung should have been on his hands and knees begging to be forgiven, but a part of your brain was fighting not to jump his bones right now and embarrass him in front of his friends.

And he dared to look proud of himself as he laughed at your face, raising his hand in a half-assed attempt to hide the smile while you geared up to smack him across the face.

He noted how livid you looked and sighed. He hadn't meant to offend you. But when he was walking back and saw how your ass was staring at him like that, he couldn't resist the temptation.

"All right, I'm sorry" he held his hands up in surrender as a beam of playfulness poured from his eyes as a flirtatious grin overtook him.

"If you want to touch my body, ask, coward", you bit back, letting yourself grin as he took his turn of letting his mouth go slack at your actions.

"What's wrong pretty boy? Need some help?" you chuckled, nodding your head south. His eyes followed yours with a confused quirk on his brow as he looked down, and his eyes widened as he nervously took in that he had a half chub under his loin cloth.

You took a step back from him, feeling the heat between your legs signal it was time to go before you made some terrible mistakes that led you both behind a tree somewhere doing things you wanted to make him wait for.

He couldn't take his eyes off you, and as you felt the roles reversing, you suddenly understood why Aonung found the teasing so fun.

He looked back up at your smug face and peeked toward the group behind you with a silent plea in his eyes. Don't drag their attention down to his excitement.

"You need to learn some manners, Aonung, it's not becoming of the next chief to be so blatant in public, you've really hurt my feelings", you gave a dramatic exaggeration of a pout to him while your hands came to lay on your heart.

He was blocked from the sight line of his peers by where you were standing, but one step to the left or right and even from this distance, it was undeniable that he was hard.

He hadn't moved to cover his crotch yet but he dropped the spear, staring at you with begging eyes. It seemed that your sudden 360 from being a blushed-out lovesick moron to a vengeful demon had done nothing to ease him down, if anything, you made it worse.

You leaned forward, taking great pleasure in standing on your feet a little to get even with his ear, your hot breath panted onto his neck and he couldn't do anything to stop you. One move, and you'd be exposing him to his closest friends.

"Compared to me, I think it's you that's easy to please", you smiled, and he hated how he could feel the heat from your mouth as your teeth came so close to his neck that it drove him mad.

You quickly pulled away and smiled when you saw his eyes were closed, he was focusing on his breathing like he had you doing from his actions so many times before, and it felt so good to see him like this. A grown man that was bigger than you in every way imaginable was trying to calm his breath over you and your words.

"Well, this has been fun, but I'll see you later, Aonung", you felt confident for the first time in weeks and slowly, you felt the old you coming back, the sarcastic you that had just as much bark in you as Aonung.

You turned to leave, but he grabbed your arm, pulling you closer to him, not quite flush against his body, lest one of the others looked up again and saw you two so close.

"Wait a few minutes, then follow me", he didn't give you the time to reply once again as he picked up the spear and finally had the dignity to cover himself with his free hand before walking off to go deeper into the forest without so much as a glance back.

Oh, you knew you shouldn't. You should turn around and leave, let the warrior get himself off in the forest like the animal he was acting like. Still, the heat that had signaled you to go nearly 5 minutes ago had grown, and you knew that even if it wasn't visible, your body was nearly 10x as horny as Aonung was.

You wanted him.

But you knew you couldn't mate here, and certainly not like this.

'Leave, leave leave', your mind screamed as your feet took step after step of their own volition after him.

You worried for a second that somebody would call out to you and ask where you were going, but a part of you knew that everyone had already worked out the nature of what was going on with you two. They had all been staring at you after he slapped your ass, so they must have.

"I'll just talk to him", you finally muttered to yourself as you set off in a faster pace, going off to find him.

#aonung #aonung x reader #aonung x you #ao'nung #ao'nung x y/n #ao'nung x reader #ao'nung x you #aonung x y/n #way of water #avatar 2 #avatar 2023 #avatar way of water #x reader #romance #aonung imagine #aoung x reader #atwow x reader #atwow headcanons #female reader

[cranberryjuice-posts]

I saw your story about the blind reader and I thought one where the reader is deaf this time? I like the drama but if you prefer it could just be something with anguish and a happy ending

YIPPEE‼️‼️

To be nothing with you

Pairings - Clarisse La rue x Fem! Daughter of Hecate! Deaf! Reader

An - am I writing this with reader being a Hecate kid bc I’m a Hecate kid yes and I will admit it every time 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

An pt2 - sign Language isn’t communicated in full complete sentences so like “are you going to the doctors tomorrow” would be like “you, doctors, tomorrow?” But with certian words like “You” or “can” you could always spell out if it’s necessary, So that’s how I’m gonna be writing (I have immediate Family who’s deaf so I understand a lot Abt sign language)

The breakup was for a good reason. You both just weren’t compatible. If that was the case how did you two always find yourselves drawn to eachother.

A perfect example would be tonight. You were sitting on the shore of the lake just taking in the scenery when you felt a familiar presence.

You looked to the side, finding the beautiful daughter of Ares beside you.

Clarisse made a few hand movements which you knew was sign language, she was asking ‘hearing aids?’. You nodded with a small smile, you always appreciated how she spent the time to learn sign language to communicate with you.

“Hey” clarisse leaned back on her hands.

“Hey?” You chuckled tilting your head in response. You had gone deaf a few years ago after an accident, being able to still hear with hearing aids was a blessing but without them you couldn’t hear a thing. “So.. what does the camp mean girl want with me hm? Trying to find a new kid to pick on” you teased lightly

Clarisse Rolled her eyes. “Yeah i came to bully one of the few Hecate kids in camp who I know damn well could curse me, I may be dumb—“

“You said it not me”

She gently shoved you making you laugh. “As i was saying, i May be dumb but I’m not that dumb— gods has anyone told you how annoying you are” she chuckled along side you.

“Yeah I’ve been informed” You grinned at her. It was nice with things like this, you knew clarisse always acted different around you which you didn’t mind. “So? What did you want”

Clarisse shrugged her shoulders “just wanted to see you”

There was a moment of silence, something you had grown to live with, the only sound near was the crashing of waves on the shore.

When you both were together, it hurt. Clarisse putting her pride before you, though you weren’t entirely innocent, any Time You argued you would take your hearing aids out for an entire day just to not talk to her.

You found yourself reaching out to clarisse, her following in suit. Your faces were close to the point you could feel her breath on your skin. You looked up at her soft brown eyes, it was like a silent agreement between you two.

She closed the gap by softly kissing you. Clarisse slid her hands down your waist and to your hips while gently grabbing your thighs. You found your hands trailing up her toned Arms and to her curly hair, locking your fingers in the hair while rubbing loving circles on her cheek.

It was always like this. You two would have a minute conversation before finding yourself making out with her.

You pulled away breathless from the kiss. clarisse shifted some before bringing her free hand up, softly tracing your lips. “You know.. your lips have always been the softest.” She admitted quietly. “Σ'αγαπώ” she whispered.

You closed your eyes not able to say the same, you knew If you did it would end badly just like last time. You sat up kissing her forehead. “See you soon ok”

You had done the math multiple times, but there was no solution. You two would never last.. if that was true then why did you feel like this

——

16 days.

That’s how many days you two avoided eachother.

Silena had confronted clarisse trying to tell her to talk to you but she couldn’t. Even when you showed up in her dreams she just couldn’t. She knew you loved her and herself on multiple occasions has been reminded how much she loves you.

But you just couldn’t work.

She promised herself that she wouldn’t put you through the hell of your relationship again, but now clarisse found herself breaking said Promise while standing in-front of the Hermes cabin thinking of a way to get your attention.

——

You were laying in your bed just looking up at the ceiling not being able to sleep. From the moonlight outside you saw a shadow moving at the window.

You walked over rubbing your eyes, once at the wall you saw clarisse standing outside. You opened the window and leaned out signing ‘grab hearing aids wait’.

She shook her head signing ‘no, wait’

You stopped confused you watched as the girl continued to sign, you smiled as it wasn’t the best and she messed up frequently but it was cute none the less.

‘We are not good together’ she started, you rolled your eyes and signed back ‘W O W, great start’

She gave you a sharp look before continuing ‘I love you, so please can we make it work’ clarisses face was calm, sweet and soft but you.. she knew the answer by your lack of movement.

‘No’ is all you signed back.. after a few moments you returned back to the windowsill with your hearing aids now in. “Clarisse we both know you won’t put me before trying to prove to your father that your the best”

“That’s—“

“The truth.” Your tone was flat. “We broke up for a reason, and we’re staying that way,.. go to your cabin, it’s late” you stepped back to close the window. She grabbed your hand stopping you. “Please.. it hurt when we were something but it’s worse to be nothing with you”

You softly took clarisses hand, kissing her scarred knuckles before pushing her hand out. “I’ll see you soon..”

You loved the daughter of ares and her the same to you. But you both loved other things before each-other.

——

#lesbian #wlw #clarisse la rue #clarisse pjo #clarisse my beloved #butch clarisse #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse x you #clarisse larue #clarisse x reader #percy jackson show #pjo show #pjo fanfic #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson

[sunnitheapollokid]

more leo x daughter of poseidon pls!!!

🐚┊ ༑ ࿐ྂ。WHAT A GREEK TRAGEDY!

leo valdez x daughter of poseidon headcanons & bonus blurb for y’all <3

📬 sunni’s notes : you got it artist!!! i’m having so much fun writing these two NSBAHAB like cmon. but can we talk about HOW MUCH I LOVE AND MISS THE BEACH i haven’t seen the beach in like two years it makes me wanna curl up and cry </3 and this fireboy and watergirl thing RAAAHHH also which do you guys prefer as a leo face claim?? because i use benoftheweek alot (also bc hes one of my comfort ytbers) im totally not biased. THIS IS A LITTLE SHORT SO MAYBE ANOTHER PART??? guys i actually need to shut up why is this so long okay have fun with this teehee!! lub u!!

⊹ HERE WE GO LEO BF HCS!!

⊹ since most poseidon kids are from the beach, leo’s from texas, you would kind of see it as a teasing opportunity.

⊹ “how’s my lil cowboy?”

⊹ “i’m going to tape your mouth.”

⊹ even though this, leo wants to show you texas so bad.

⊹ he tells you all the good bbq places, the best rodeos in town, fucking buc-ee’s.

⊹ out of topic but yall i literally have the buc-ee’s easter shirt the hype is real i love that shirt <3

⊹ ACTUALLY,

⊹ leo gets you that exact shirt. for your birthday.

⊹ since it’s the color of seafoam and it matched your eyes, he flew across manhattan and the absolute sea to get that for you for your birthday.

⊹ you chuckled at the beaver at the front of the shirt but you loved the effort regardless.

⊹ if you could, you would wear that shirt to sleep every night.

⊹ it’s canon that leo cooks right?

⊹ good. because he loves cooking for you, not just any food, BLUE FOOD.

⊹ i’m slamming my credit card on the table.

⊹ blue pancakes, blue soup, blue tacos.

⊹ he does it just to see the smile on your face.

⊹ also, whenever he goes on quests, he manages to sneak in goldfish or whale crackers for you when he gets back because they don’t have it back at camp and they remind him of you.

⊹ leo’s on a quest with piper and jason right? they’re fighting monsters yada-yada, and they have to flee. they left their stuff behind but leo goes to grab his backpack and piper just goes,

⊹ “for zues’ sake leo, LEAVE THE BACKPACK!!”

⊹ “HELL NO MY GIRLFRIEND’S SNACKS ARE IN HERE!”

⊹ this goes for seashells too. if the quest happens to come across like a beach, he’ll collect shells for your hair or just to have you decorate in your room.

⊹ this man is so stupid in love with you.

⊹ i like to think that leo makes cute lil sea animals for you out of scrap metal.

⊹ you have a metal whale, an otter, and a jellyfish sitting by your lamp.

⊹ leo calls them your guys’ children.

⊹ you’ll accidentally slip out and cuss, and he’ll have his ears over the animals.

⊹ “don’t say that infront of bubbles baby!”

⊹ the giggle you’d let out.

⊹ gods, he’d be melting.

⊹ anyway, leo would ask percy to teach him surfing.

⊹ he can skate?

⊹ watch him surf too.

bonus blurb — longer showers? ✧˖*°࿐

leo knocked on the girls’ locker room, “she done yet?!” he yelled. piper opened the door, with a scream in leo’s face, “no buttface! go away!” leo groaned, burying his face in his hands as piper slammed the door.

when you’re a daughter of poseidon, who happened to be leo’s girlfriend, you usually take longer showers. like, long showers. showers that can maybe even last the whole day.

and poor leo was suffering by the other side of the door, his girlfriend already spending an hour and a half in the shower.

“i am going to die out here.” leo mumbled to himself. and after waiting another half an hour by the steps and getting weird stares from other campers, (name) stepped out with her hair dry, perfect, and covered in pretty white shells. “oh hey baby.”

leo lifted his head up and, “FINAAALLYY.”

#— sunni adores leo (ꈍᴗꈍ)♡ #sunni does not sleep #sunni takes reqs ✎ᝰ #pjoverse #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez #percy jackson headcanon #leo valdez x daughter of poseidon

[starfinss]

Thanks for answering my ask!😊 i do have request/suggestion involving Cyno haha, what about a 🍋 scenario where Cyno, Al Haitham and a character of your choice get accidentally hard from having their S/O innocently sit on their lap? They try to hide it but they fail.. 🙈 if that would be alright with you!

This has been in my inbox for literal months, I am SO sorry.

I’ve been planning a trip abroad, plus I’ve had no ideas for this prompt until like an hour ago when I was playing Genshin and thinking of story ideas. Anyway, sure, I’ll write that. The character of my choice will be Lyney, because I’m working on his build right now and I’ve been sort of drafting a fic for him while I’m writing the Jing Yuan fic.

As always, let me know if any of you want full fics from this.

—𝘚𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘓𝘢𝘱𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘜𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴.

— 𝘈𝘭𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘮

— Unless you’re at home together, I doubt Alhaitham would let you sit on his lap for this very reason.

— Alhaitham is a man who lives my the rules of logic, and while I won’t say he hasn’t fucked you on his desk at work, he’d call those ‘momentary lapses in judgement.’

— Not that he didn’t enjoy them, though.

— He’s the type who likes to do things where the chances of being caught are low. He likes to draw things out, doing everything he can to make you feel good. And so, he prefers to engage in activity like this in the comfort of your bedroom.

— So, in instances like this, if you were to convince him to let you sit in his lap while you waited for him to finish up his work after everyone was home for the night, he might give in, just a little bit.

— Really, you just wanted to be close to him, maybe close your eyes for a while. He loves closeness as much as the next person, being near to the one you love is always nice.

— The risk of being seen in such a compromising position is low, which is a plus, and he gets to feel your warmth against his body as he finishes what he has to do for the day.

— But then you shift forward, nuzzling closer, and your body rubs against his just right, and oh Archons, he doesn’t have time for this.

— The way your body settles so perfectly over him makes his mind scatter to anything and everything besides work. The friction as you rearrange yourself against him is enough to make him feel like he’s going crazy.

— He hides it well, though. Alhaitham is good at keeping a blank face.

— As casually as he can, he shifts you back so you’re away from his growing erection, because he has to finish this paperwork before he leaves, and you’re so maddeningly distracting.

— But that doesn’t go unnoticed. You look up at him quizzically, and when you’re met with a blank stare, you shift back to where you were most comfortable, just to see his reaction.

— He sets his jaw, breath catching as he stiffens, unable to hide the way his body reacts to yours as you realize why he moved you away.

“Did I make you hard?” You whisper, a little surprised, “I didn’t even do anything.”

A quiet scoff as he looks at you fully, his self-restraint beginning to fray. Damn you for always having this effect on him.

“It’s kind of hard not to with you practically grinding against me.”

A sly smile overtakes your face, the innocent desire to hold him replaced with something much more lascivious.

“Would you like some help with that, Mister Acting Grand Sage?”

— Lips collide, and you end up bent over the desk as he holds you in place by your hips, the office filled with the sound of skin on skin and his low, pleasured groans as he fucks you, deep and hard, just the way he knows you like it.

— Needless to say, that paperwork didn’t end up getting done that night.

— 𝘊𝘺𝘯𝘰

— Like Alhaitham, I don’t think Cyno would really allow such a thing unless the two of you were alone in your own home.

— He doesn’t like breaking rules or doing things that could be seen as unbecoming, especially not in public.

— It’s because of the fact that he most likely wouldn’t engage in that sort of thing in public that I also doubt he’d try and hide it.

— In his eyes, things tend to be rather black and white, and he separates your sex life together from everyday life. He associates you sitting in his lap with other more improper thoughts that he shouldn’t be distracted by when he’s working or out of the house.

— It doesn’t change just how much he loves you, and even in daily life he expresses that in other ways.

— This is getting long winded and stupid but I want this to be interesting and not just “he’s reading a book and you’re in his lap,” which I could very easily do.

— I sure am a writer. Also this idea is stupid, but it’s also fun. I will probably write a full fic for it.

— But, anyway, the point I was making is, if you were to accidentally end up in his lap, then because of that association between you being that close and sexual activity, he might end up getting hard rather easily.

— While tracking a fugitive scholar together, the two of you end up being forced to fight when a group of Eremites come through, and the ensuing scuffle catches the attention of a herd of Sumpter Beasts.

— You and Cyno are confined into a small hiding space, and because of the limited amount of room, you’re forced to straddle him.

— You, of course, are wriggling around, trying to get comfortable in the awkward position, and it’s when you finally settle down onto his lap and he catches you by the waist to keep you from fully resting against him that you realize what has happened.

— He’s not meeting your eyes, simply looking out through the gaps in the rocks to watch the herd of beasts go by, but you can see his jaw tighten when you shift forward and out of his grip. When you move your hips down, a hand shoots out to still you with a grip that is nearly bruising.

“Stay still.”

— You’re a little surprised, he’s usually able to keep that sort of thing under control fairly well, but in retrospect, you can’t really blame him with all the moving around you were doing.

“Sorry,” you croak, suddenly mortified, “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know you didn’t mean to,” he says, “my body simply responded to the stimulation. It is always a possibility in such close quarters. Just stay still, please.”

— The rocks are digging into your knees, and despite his warning, you still try and shift for some relief, as slowly as you can, but he’s getting harder, and you can feel his hands scrambling for a grip on your hips and waist, and when he looks at you, the glint in his eyes is equal parts pleading and haggard.

— Slowly, teasingly, you roll your hips, and his head falls back against the wall of rocks behind it, eyes fluttering closed as you grind against him, the way he’s holding you so flush against him making the friction ever better.

“We shouldn’t,” he says, though his own protest sounds unconvincing as his voice drops several octaves lower, rough with lust, and especially so when his hips rise to press you even closer.

“Then why aren’t you stopping me?” You ask, wanting so badly to kiss him, and instead of answering you, he catches the back of your head, crushing your mouth against his.

— The buttons of your shirt are undone, his mouth is on your breasts as you fumble for the front of his shorts, struggling to get your own off, and he simply moves your panties aside after you’ve wrestled out of your clothing before yanking you down, stuffing you full of his thick cock.

— Your cries of pleasure are lost among the hoof beats of the Sumpter Beasts on the path above, and you share heated breath as you ride him, his hand on your waist to guide you along the length of his cock.

— His head dips down to watch where he disappears inside of you, and you feel his grip tighten on your body, feel him twitch inside of you, making you whimper.

— He’s sure to make you cum first, his thumb on your clit, muttering sweet filth into your skin as you come undone above him.

— You end up in that ravine longer than you excepted, if you couldn’t tell.

— 𝘓𝘺𝘯𝘦𝘺

— Unlike the two others, I don’t think Lyney would be as private.

— A conversation with my good friend Paprika made me realize that Lyney is probably the type of guy who goes for what he wants, and if he was interested in someone, he’d likely just show that interest without beating around the bush.

— So I wouldn’t be surprised if he invited his s/o to sit on his lap, just casually, no matter where they were.

— It’s not even sexual, really, he just likes being close to the ones he loves, and you’re no exception. He loves holding you.

— He’s very romantic, too, I’d say. He knows just what to say to get you all weak in the knees. He loves you so much. The poor guy doesn’t have many people in his life who have shown him the love that you have, and he absolutely cherishes you.

— He’d even buy out all the seats in one of the upper boxes of the Opera Epiclese, just to have you all to himself, able to hold you close and tell you just how much he adores you in the dark of the grand auditorium.

— But he’s only human, and if you were to move just right while sitting in his lap, he’s going to have a reaction.

A soft chuckle tickled your ear in the silence, and you felt Lyney’s hands on your waist, gently holding you in place.

“Stay still, please, darling.”

— He wouldn’t really try and hide it, it’s kind of hard to when you’re right there.

— He’d bite back a gasp as you shift again, almost teasing him, shooting you a warning look.

“Can I help with that?”

A soft laugh, slightly strained. “And how would you do that?”

You pressed a kiss to the curve of his jaw. “Can I show you?”

He kisses your forehead. “As long as it’s quiet. We wouldn’t want to disturb the other patrons, would we?”

— You slip down from his lap and to the floor, where you kneel, between his knees. He’s seated in the farthest chair in the box, well hidden from sight if anyone were to look his way. You wouldn’t even be visible from that vantage point.

— He realizes what you’re doing and shifts his legs farther apart to accommodate you, and when you palm him through his slacks, you get the pleasure of watching the way his jaw tightens, breath drawn in sharply through his nose.

— You make short work of his belt and zipper, and he shifts his hips to let you tug his underwear down just enough to free his dick.

— He curses quietly when you wrap your hand around him, and when you begin to slowly stroke, his head tips back against the chair.

— When your mouth presses against his tip, you feel one gloved palm against the back of your head, urging you forward, lacing into your hair when you take him into your mouth.

— You feel him twitch against the roof of your mouth as you begin to bob your head, slow and steady, almost teasing, and you can hear him gasp softly above you, see him clamp one hand over his mouth as you watch him through your lashes.

— His grip tightens on your hair, groans muffled by the hand over his mouth, and you squeeze your thighs together, letting yourself moan around him, low and soft, and that’s enough to make his hips buck against your mouth. You know you’ll pay for that when you got home.

— You speed up, and his hand fists into your hair, desperate for any kind of purchase at all, and you hardly mind, especially when it leads to him shifting forward in his seat, forcing you to take more of him, gently guiding you back, only to fill your mouth once more.

— You loosen your throat and let him take control, using your mouth as he pleases, simply content with watching the way his face twists in pleasure, teeth digging into his knuckles as he tries desperately to stay quiet, and you can tell he’s close from the way he’s leaking into your mouth, his thighs shaking, grip growing borderline painful.

— He cums hard, gushing down your throat, and it’s a wonder he stays quiet during his climax, the effort of it all clearly taking a toll on him as you watch involuntary frustrated tears bead at the corner of his eyes and catch in his pale lashes.

— You pull off as he softens, licking your lips and making a show of swallowing, something he watches with heavy-lidded, hungry eyes.

— Cheekily, you settle back into the seat with him after he tucks himself away again, careful to avoid bumping against him.

— Yeah, you didn’t end up getting much sleep after you got home that night.

The fact that this took as long as it did haunts me and I am so sorry.

ALSO I GET TO SEE PAPRIKA IN PERSON THIS FALL YAYAYAYAYAYAY!!!! I’m so excited, and I will probably cry.

#al haitam x reader #my writing #fanfiction #fanfic #smut #female reader #fem!reader #asks #alhaitham #cyno x reader #cyno genshin impact #genshin impact #this was in my inbox for so long #I am so sorry #wow i am so sorry #genshin lyney #lyney x reader #lyney #n.sfw #this is pure fuckery #this is stupid #minors dni #smutty #genshin headcanons #headcanon #reader insert #x reader #These got long

[stealingyourbones]

What suggestions would you have for cool, lesser known DC characters I could write a crossover fic with.

Preferably not Gotham-based characters because as much as I love them I need a break and I want to try something new. I know you mentioned Animal Man in another post. Does he have a solo run I can look up or is he usually in group comics/a side character in somebody else’s comics?

(I am deliberately baiting you to info-dump to me about any DC characters you want and I will write a fic with them so go nuts.)

Sadly at this current moment I can’t infodump nearly as much as I’d want to because my carpal tunnel is being a lil bitch but I can give synopses:

Animal Man- Buddy Baker, a typical suburban dad who also happens to be a hero that can use abilities based on any nearby animal (including bacteria?). He is powered by The Red which is the animal version of The Green (Plant Life). The Red is less the concept of all animals but more the concept that all animals are meat. his comics are either a beautifully terrifying body horror gore fest or a 4th wall breaking mind bending creation. No in between. Having Animal Man fight the Lunch Lady and realize she’s fundamentally a different being and not of The Red would be crazy awesome.

Booster Gold or Ted Kord: Booster Gold is a Time Cop who got his job from stealing shit from the Hall of Justice Museum and heading to the Age of Heroes to fund enough money and fame to pay for his mothers cancer treatment. He could be used in Clockwork related fics a lot and he’s also equally as much as a dumbass as Danny.

Blue Beetle also known as Ted Kord, is basically in the same package deal as Booster. Ted Kord, Late owner of Kord Industries, ja a brilliant master of technology and has stuff from a massive beetle ship to a gun. He’s best friends with Booster and their bromance could be fun if you want Danny to have two partially functional adult mentors.

Wally West. The second and fastest flash. A he’s the most go with the flow dude I’ve seen in recent comics, including dealing with an inter dimensional WWE esque fight where he fights alongside Space Hulk Hogan, and has a wonderful Wife, Linda West, and (sometimes) twin kiddos. The Flash’s entire sthick is family. They’re more family centered than the Fast and Furious movies for god sake. Having Danny find a new home in any speedsters home would be incredible.

The Spectre: the embodiment of Gods Wrath. I would go on far too long of a rant remind me to do one later but for now all I’m saying is that it would be sick as fuck for The Spectre to kill Vlad for the horrible things he’s done.

Green Arrow or in general Star City: Oliver Queen, inheritor of Queen Industries is a dude who got trauma after a boat sank and some island thing (tbh I don’t know his backstory off the top of my head), but he’s a very quippy and hilarious guy who’s jokes would mesh pretty nicely with Danny’s humor and in general he’s underutilized in both dpxdc and DC so it’d be nice to see that change :)

Ok hands are getting angry but I hope that’s a fun starting example list for ya!! :D

#dpxdc #bones replies #bones writes #bones prompts

[dashielldeveron]

soulmate trope | shigaraki tomura

Shigaraki’s route of soulmate trope.

"post-canon shigaraki? canon isn't even finished as of when this was posted on 4 january 2024!"

yeah. thank god. gives us time to write our own endings. and obviously i will be wrong about some things. i recommend you read at least one other route, preferably dabi’s, before reading this one. warnings: female reader. manga spoilers up to around chapter 390-411ish, based on language used by others to describe shigaraki and his trauma. bodily consequences to his trauma (some things are intended to read as AFO having forced an ED on shigaraki, but this is not made definitive). sexual content. stalking. gore (in a game). reader is experiencing a type of gifted kid burnout.

~28k

There’s a hentai book lying on your bed.

You’ve never seen it before.

Flipping through it, you winced at the positions the large-titted, ponytailed woman was manhandled into, and though you were frankly impressed that she managed to wear such intricate lingerie underneath her everyday business attire, the protagonist only just got home from work; let her decompress for, like, ten minutes before railing her against the window, please.

Whom did you know who would read volume four of something called GINSENG TEA X LUSTFUL BALLSACK?

Unfortunately, you were burdened with knowledge about your friends’ sexual habits, and some of them, therefore, were already ruled out: Shinsou only read erotica because he preferred his own imagination to any images hentai or live-action could provide, and Monoma only read hentai in which the woman’s eyes had hearts in them to let the reader know she’s enjoying it—not to mention Monoma wouldn’t buy a hard copy of it, let alone a story that didn’t have more plot and character development to it. There wasn’t enough drool for Sero to be interested, and the male protagonist wasn’t enough of a twink for Kaminari to project onto, so whose was this?

Moreover, who the fuck would come all the way back to your old school’s campus to break into your room to leave it on your bed? (Shinsou would be your best bet for that part, but whenever he finished a patrol nowadays, he went directly to sleep, and his and Monoma’s flat was across town.)

You cat, Dango, jumped onto the bed, slithering up next to you and bumping her head on your elbow affectionately.

“Is this yours?” you asked her, and she sniffed the book before climbing into your lap.

You tossed the book aside to pet your cat with both hands, and you resolved not to think about it any longer, even though the cringy way the mangaka depicted the female orgasm was burnt onto your brain.

***

Hopping to put your heel back into a ballet flat, you held the phone between your ear and shoulder while you struggled towards the lift. “I’ve got to cancel on you, Ochaco,” you said, flipping the back of your blazer collar down and adjusting the lapels, “I’m, fuck—I’m not gonna be able to make it this evening, so just go without me.”

Uraraka sighed on her end. “Okay. I know a lot of us were excited to see you after so long—there’s a card Tsu’s made us all to sign, and everything—but we’ll manage. ‘Spose we’ll just have a routine night at the bar and reschedule when you can make it. I miss you,” she said, “and I’m pretty sure I can say the same for everyone.”

The elevator door slid open, and you entered. “All of you are so clingy. I’ve only been away from the agency for around two months, and you know where to find me.” You mashed the button for the ground floor. “In fact, it’s embarrassingly easy to access me.”

“Well, we’re very busy,” said Uraraka, “People are very eager to conscript us for missions, even if they really could be done by the police. U.A. alumni have somehow upticked in their popularity even more since we graduated—”

“Ochaco, I know. I was there. Allow me to weep for your success. I am playing the world’s tiniest violin.” You shifted your bag’s full weight onto your shoulder and exited into the commons. “But listen. I’ve got to go; I’m running late this morning. I couldn’t find my pantyhose even though I laid them out last night, and they weren’t in any of my cat’s usual hiding places. I had to turn my flat upside down and still never found them.” The outside doors slid open when you approached, and the harsh, morning wind upset your hair on impact. “Give everyone my love, O. Tell Todoroki to smile in his next interview.” Eyes darting across your surroundings for any witnesses, you shrank in on yourself and bit the inside of your cheek. “And tell everyone I’m sorry, okay?”

By the time you arrived at U.A.’s administration building, the wind had been joined by a light drizzle that would probably morph into a storm within the hour, a prediction compounded by a plethora of faculty umbrellas in and beside the stand by the sliding doors. The front office was gloriously vacant, though, so you were able to slip behind the front desk without someone rebuking you for being—you shook the computer mouse to wake it up, the clock popping up in the corner—seventeen minutes late.

(You’d graduated with the rest of the class six months ago, and you’d founded the all-girls agency uptown, with most of the women in the graduating class joining to form an instant powerhouse of the industry.

Founding an agency appealed to a good deal of graduates, but you were the only one to go the distance: you were the one to actually make the calls, fill out the paperwork, get aggravating shit done, and by the time to move into the building, it had pleased you to no end that Midoriya had asked you for help on kickstarting his own.

And then two months ago, you’d pulled off, frankly, what was supposed to be an impossible rescue. For the first time, you were getting enormous amounts of attention, from civilians, from press, from other heroes—and you were being followed, never having more than a moment to yourself—always being watched, either from well-wishers or nay-sayers—and sometimes, the analytical critic, eager to point out your faults in the rescue mission to try to drag you out of the hero scene.

You hated yourself for this, but they won.

Too many expectations. All sinking down on you, as if no other hero existed while the light shone in your direction. [And you hated yourself for even daring to consider this—what reprehensible audacity, but—but was this how All Might had felt?]

You’d had something next door to a panic attack when a convenience store, a regular stop in your weekly routine, filmed your reaction to how they’d auctioned off your signed receipt for over nine hundred thousand yen. Breaking their cameras, Shinsou had to escort you out of there in a rush and call Aizawa for help.

Sobbing into Shinsou’s phone on the soggy concrete of a darkened alleyway, you did something you never fathomed you’d ever do, something you could never see any of your friends ever doing, something that seemed as alien and unthinkable as sticking your hand into a pit of needles: you begged Aizawa to get you out of the hero business.

You’ve been handled with care and relocated into a surprising covert secretarial job in the U.A. admin, Nezu’s logic was that you’d adjust to one person needing you at a time, say, over email or at the desk, and if you only answered the phone with only a shortened version of your name, then no intruding civilian would be the wiser.

The job was easy, anyway. Paid well for what it was, but perhaps that was simply standard for U.A. Nowhere nearly as well paying or exciting as working as a hero, but you were adjusting into mundanity. Some days had stretches of hours in which you didn’t interact with anyone, sitting at the front desk without a task, and you even had a few days in which you’d gone in, piddled around at the desk for your whole shift without seeing another soul, and gone home.

Your friends were always so busy. The two times you’ve been able to meet with them contained nothing but conversation about hero work, or else everything was somehow tangentially related to it, and you found yourself unable to contribute to the conversation. Both times, you’d left early, a little overstimulated, leaving Shinsou to make your excuses.

And Shinsou, bless him. Not avoiding you on purpose. In fact, you knew he’d drop almost anything for you to hang out, but you knew his schedule and how little rest he got. So, it was more of a self-imposed boundary on your side, taking into account that he needed sleep more than he needed to spend time with you.

So, yes, some of it was directly your fault, but you were achingly, astonishingly lonely, with an ever-lowering threshold for tolerance of outside stimulation, ultimately feeling like you didn’t belong here.)

Pens aligned. Coaster. Check the school email for—good, no emails. No voicemail. Get out your planner and write your hours in it to look busy. Hey, your water bottle’s nearing empty; maybe you could go fill it or even waste time brewing coffee. But where’s your work mug? You probably left it on the cleaning rack next to the office sink. You should go check.

“Hey,” said Aizawa out of nowhere, ignoring how you jumped out of your own skin, “Good morning. Are you doing a specific job at the moment?”

You gripped the arms of your swivel chair to ground yourself. Is this a test? “I was about to take a moment to make some coffee,” you said, because never let someone in a position of authority know that you were doing jackshit, “Is there something I can help you with, Aizawa-sensei?”

Frowning, he dipped his chin into his capture weapon, still tucked closely to his neck to shield him from the wind, and he shifted his weight to one leg, his fingers tapping in a ripple on the reception desk. “You don’t have to call me that anymore.”

“I’m gonna,” you said, “How can I help?”

Please don’t need anything. Please don’t need anythi—

“Permission has just cleared for me to assign you a long-term task.”

Shit, you thought, internally wincing at how he used the term task and not mission, as if you’d be plunged into the ice-cold water of a panic attack at the word. The kid gloves that everyone handled you with somehow both ingratiated and insulted you.

“You’ll be paid for it,” Aizawa continued, “and it’s low stakes interaction, not even face-to-face. It’s all online.” Aizawa clasped his hands on the desk and hunched over the top of it, the ends of his scarf trailing down onto your keyboard. “You’ll recall moving some boxes into room 310.”

“Of course.” Early in your first month back at U.A., you’d helped clean out and move some boxes into 310 in the same hall that housed Aizawa, Eri, and now you—you’d unofficially dubbed it as U.A.’s drawer to shove social rejects. “Is someone about to move in?”

“He’s been moved in for a while,” said Aizawa, pulling his capture weapon away from his neck, “Keep all of this quiet. You’re allowed to know because I’ve advocated for you, because I trust in you and in your ability to do this well.” Aizawa paused, the silence dragging on much longer than usual. His eyes glazed over, as if considering how to phrase his next proposal.

You waved your hand, prompting him to continue.

His eyes focused again. “The new person is a ward of the school, but All Might and I are his primary—caretakers isn’t quite the right term, and nor is supervisors, so perhaps it’s better to—”

“No, I get it,” you said, “This person is an adult, but they’re not quite independent. Go on.”

Aizawa paused, brow furrowed just slightly as he scrutinised you again, but he nodded slowly after a moment. “I’ll allow him to introduce himself to you. He doesn’t need me to set up expectations. What’s important for you to know, regarding your own participation, is that he’s very new to the hero scene and is receiving his hero training later in life than usual. He won’t be attending class but will be trained personally by select U.A. faculty, mostly All Might, Nezu, and me.”

“Is he officially a student?”

 “On paper.” Something strange passed across Aizawa’s face, but you couldn’t name it. “Where you come in is his socialisation. He’s spent most of his life in disciplinary isolation. Because of the adults raising him, his instincts trend towards distrust and animosity.”

So, Aizawa wanted you spend time with him until he was no longer bad with people, like spending time with feral cats at animal shelters until they’re ready to be adopted. “So, he’s distrustful. Hostile. Angry,” you said, scratching the side of your head, “Is he—do you think he’ll bring up bad stuff I’ve done to use it against me?”

“He doesn’t know who you are, aside from someone trusted by U.A. with hero experience,” said Aizawa, shaking his head, “and you can choose what information you give him.”

“Does he,” you said, sucking in through your teeth, “Does this guy know about how you’re going about this? I think—wouldn’t he be insulted if he knew about how you’re socialising him like an animal?”

Aizawa looked over his shoulder at the empty office, but he bent farther over the desk and spoke softly, anyway. “Recently, when I was training him at night, he expressed that he never knows what to do when someone wants to talk to him after mission, whether it’s successful or not. He froze entirely when a senior citizen thanked him last week, and that’s when we decided something tactile needed to be done. Since he’s grown used to me, you’re the solution.”

Okay. A volatile man, someone who couldn’t go to U.A. at the average age but for whom Aizawa, Nezu, and All Might were making an exception, even going so far as to personally take him out at night to practise hero work.

Hm. Fishy.

But if the good, good men who took care of you wanted you take care of another misplaced person, then you’re going to do it to the best of your ability.

“I hope I can live up to your expectations,” you said, making a note in your planner, “What am I doing?”

“I need you to learn how to play a video game,” said Aizawa, “and I need you to be absolute shit at it.”

***

For you to help some loser with socialisation, he would be teaching you how to play some janky, twenty-five-year-old MMORPG called Cipherstone—and not even the current, polished version of it; you had to sign up for an account on the version preserving the game exactly as it was in 2007. Nostalgia reasons, apparently.

You nudged Dango out aside to check your bedside clock. The discord call would start in five minutes, and you were making your Cipherstone account, completely unable to come up with a suitable username.

“Don’t connect it to your other online accounts or your actual identity,” Aizawa had said that morning.

Dango’s tiny prance across your stomach was not helping, and you couldn’t use Dango in your username, because if someone knew about your cat (and hopefully no one did, because cats were not allowed in the dorms), then a Dango username could be linked back to the real you. You plopped your head back on your pillow, knocking against the headboard. What’s something that couldn’t be traced back to you? Slumping, you let your head fall to the side and sulked.

The hentai book peeked out from underneath a jacket on your dirty clothes chair.

GinsengTea

That username is unavailable.

Well. You couldn’t use your birthdate as added numbers. You kept typing.

GinsengTea69

That username is unavailable.

You’re not about to try Lustful Ballsack. Maybe if you put aside your secretarial propensity for being correct for a moment.

GinzengTea

Username available!

Oh, thank God. You sorted out your password and started customising your character, though you couldn’t do much with the negative six billion pixels you were dealing with, and oh, is that the noise discord makes for a call? You plugged in your earbuds and clicked the answer button.

“Hello?” you asked into the microphone on your earbud cord, narrowing your eyes at his profile picture of a rotund, cartoon mouse. Username Tenkopeito. Looks like he ran into the same spelling trouble you did.

“Greetings and salutations,” he said, his tinny, rasping, just-got-out-of-bed, gruff-from-lack-of-use voice striking you with about fifty psychic damage, “I am Aizawa-sensei’s pupil, here to teach you about the intricacies of Cipherstone. It will be my pleasure—”

“Cut that shit out,” you said, narrowing your eyes at his profile picture: actually, that mouse was so round because it had just swallowed an enormous piece of konpeito whole, with the little star spikes jutting out underneath its fur. “No one talks like that. You sound fake as fuck.”

“I see,” he said after a beat, tone deflating to sound resigned (and though he’d relaxed, it somehow sounded as if talking this way took more effort, like it physically strained his vocal cords). “Am I not supposed to be nice?”

“You weren’t exactly being nice. You were using a customer service voice—which is being polite, not nice. Not even kind. Politeness is usually some sort of put-on affectation of niceness, forced for the situation. I understand if that’s what you think you need to do when you talk to people as a hero, but in hero work, since the stakes are high, you need to be genuine, or at least sound like you are.” Dango crawled across your stomach again, but you lifted her off before she could settle into a loaf on your keyboard. “In the field, it’s often hard to be kind because of how involved you get as a hero; being kind takes effort and drains you emotionally. Kindness implies there’s some sort of reciprocity, some sort of ongoing relationship. You can choose to be kind if you want, but it may wear on you in the long run. What will probably be healthiest for you, on your side, is if you aim to be nice, meaning being honest in a gentle way, framing situations positively but realistically for listeners. The public doesn’t want to be lied to and told everything’s fine, but telling them the harshness of reality doesn’t go over well. Kills morale.”

“Holy shit.” He was scratching something close to his microphone—it must be a fairly good mic, since you could deduce short fingernails against a dry surface. “That’s…a lot.”

“It is. But you can do it. All it takes is practise, and that’s what I’m here for,” you said, moving Dango from your keyboard again, “And I didn’t mean to overwhelm you with all of that; it just came out—I, uh, I happen to know a lot about the way heroes present themselves.” Swallowing thickly, you ran your tongue over your lower lip. “Why don’t we begin with what you were saying before? But in the actual way you talk, please. You need to be comfortable in your own voice.”

His mic picked up the distant noise of slurping through a straw, against what sounded like the bottom of a metal cup, which clinked when he set it back down. “Have you played Cipherstone before?”

“Total newcomer. Though I’ve seen some screenshots in memes.”

“Cool,” he said in a way that was clear it was not cool, “I can’t add you to my in-game friends list until you get off Tutorial Island. Share your screen with me until then.”

All right. You can be bad at this. You can be so bad at this. “What’s a screen?” Not that bad, idiot! “I mean,” you said, fumbling, “How do I share my screen with you?”

The scratching grew louder. “Bottom left. Screen button. Right click. Share option.”

“Ah.” You should probably lure him into thinking you’re competent while there was a literal tutorial onscreen so that he would be more frustrated with you later. “Gotcha.”

For a few seconds after your avatar popped onscreen for the first time, nothing came through but the 8-bit tutorial music. “Is that what you look like in real life?” he finally asked.

“No,” you said, not exactly lying. The character had her hair down in her face (which you wouldn’t normally do when you were on patrol, since it could get in the way of physical hero work), and, hoping to endear yourself to this weirdo, you’d chosen the sluttiest shirt: while none of the horrible pixelated options showed any boob whatsoever, the poor rendering still managed to convey that the top was off-shoulder. Again, not great for hero work. “In real life, I’ve much, much more panache.”

Another silence, during which you assumed he was looking up the word. “So, you click on the screen to go where you want to walk, on either the overall game interface or in the mini-map in the corner. Your destination will show up—”

“Wait, what should I call you, screwboy?”

“—as a red flag,” he said, frown audible, his rasping voice screeching to a stop the way brakes are slowly applied to the wheels of a train. “Not screwboy.”

“I’m not calling you by your handle. Not only is it cringe, but you won’t have to answer to it anywhere else in your life. If you don’t want to give me your name, that’s fine. I could call you by your hero name, if you like; it’d help you get used to answering to it. But no, I’m not calling you your username,” you said, shoulders slacking once Dango finally settled in a ball at your hip, “Especially since you couldn’t even get the correct spelling of Ten Konpeito.”

“It’s—it’s not supposed to say that,” he said, sputtering with a groan coming in at the end, “It’s a play on my name, and including the n makes it harder to say aloud. I think these things through; I have to be aware of my public image and branding now; that’s the whole point of this stupid—my name is Tenko, you asshole.”

“Oh, you’re gonna call civilians asshole?” You clicked your tongue. “Bad. Bad and evil. Speaking from experience, people don’t like that.”

“Just fu—just click on the map.”

“Fine. But you can’t fool me with your medieval, point-and-click game,” you said, clicking to pick up a fishing net, “Incidentally, the oldest known fishing net is the net of Antrea, crafted of willow and dating back to 8300 B.C.”

Tenko paused. “What would be the socially expected response to that?”

Your avatar fished for shrimps. “Oh, usually people yell at me. Get mad for bringing up total non sequiturs. My friend Bakugou is fond of telling me that I’m a collection of those bottle caps with facts printed on the inside.”

“Would…would you like me to get angry? Am I supposed to? I was under the impression I was supposed to curb my anger. To be nice.”

Your inventory filled with shrimps.

“You only need one shrimp,” said Tenko.

“You’ll thank me when we have food later,” you said, continuing to fish for shrimps.

“It’s the tutorial,” he said, frown creeping into his voice, “You won’t keep any resources from it. You should go chop the tree down to light a fire.”

“Well, hell. I want my shrimps.” You clicked away from the fishing spot and onto a tree. “Nothing’s happening.”

Tenko cleared his throat. “You need to talk to the woodcutting tutor first. She’ll give you an axe.”

“I thought this game had magic,” you said, guiding Dango’s head away from blocking the screen, “Can’t I just get logs with magic?”

“No, it’s—you must want me to get angry. As a test.” Scratching. “Magic comes later. Not for getting logs.”

You interpreted that as a sign to make the rest of the tutorial go smoothly. You followed the instructions for a few silent minutes, proving to him that you could read, and when you reached the end of the tutorial, a wizard teleported you to the crossroads of a town centre.

“Ah,” you said, genuinely surprised as other players’ avatars, decked out in what must be high-level gear, dashed past, “I don’t know where I am.”

“You can turn your screen-sharing off now.” Tenko typed on what sounded like a mechanical keyboard. “I’m over here. I’ve got—by the fountain—white hair, all black clothes. I’m not—there you are.”

Dozens of other players were running past the two of you, the only bare, new players in the area. Tenko’s pixelated avatar waved at you. Cheeky bitch. He’s so poorly animated and so very 2007 that it gave no indication what he could look like in real life. But he’s chosen to have a black t-shirt as his default, so he has to be a slut.

You resisted the urge to ask to feel his pixelated bicep. “You don’t have any equipment. I thought you’ve played Cipherstone before?”

“My main account is max-ed out. I started a new account to grow at the same rate as you. Before anything else, notice where we are,” said Tenko, “We’re in the centre of the city of Renfield. Get familiar with it. Think of it as home. It’s where you’ll always come back to when you get lost.”

It’s a barely animated town centre, with a short path up the stairs to a castle door and a few market stalls split between fountains.

“I have no idea what that means, Tenko.”

“It means that—that,” Tenko said, and stopped.

You couldn’t stop grinning, biting at your lower lip to keep from laughing—he’d let out a flustered huff, sounding a little strangled, because you’d said his name for the first time—and, judging by how long this delicious silence was dragging on, Tenko was probably his given name, not the family name. Beautiful, really, that a guy his age (however old he was, but he’s at least the same as you, since he couldn’t attend U.A. at the usual time) could get this nervous over a woman calling him by his name.

Tenko recovered in a way that showed he didn’t: “It means that you are always able to cast one spell, regardless of magic level,” he said in a rush, “It is a homing spell that teleports you back to this spot, so even if you get lost, you can always get back to Renfield. You can teleport other ways, too, but that’s for another time, and I need a cup of coffee.” He inhaled sharply.

It's only the first day, so you should go easy on him. Let his moment of awkwardness go.

However, Aizawa gave you a mission.

Excuse you, a task.

“Do you plan on getting flustered every time a civilian calls you by name?” you asked, petting between Dango’s ears, “Or are you planning on avoiding as much publicity as possible by being an underground hero like Aizawa?”

“I don’t—they’re not going to—it’s different with you. I can already tell,” said Tenko (you froze, fingers curled into Dango’s fur), “because I’m going to have some sort of working relationship with you. I assume you’re here to stay.”

Putting it that way made your heartbeat throb around your ears. You decided you could ask directly. “Tenko’s your first name, then?”

“Yeah.” He must have covered his hand with his mouth, muffling his voice at first. “But people usually—people have been calling me something else.”

“Then I can call you something else, if you like,” you said, getting back to petting Dango behind her ears and resolving to treat him with the same tenderness—he must need it, since no one in his life knows him well enough to call him by his given name.

“No, I think you should,” he said a bit too quickly, “Call me that. Tenko. I’m tired of that other stuff. Click on something to keep from logging out, by the way. There’s a timer.” Mechanical typing noises. “No, Aizawa-sensei wants me to be better. Of all things, I need to learn to respond to my real name.”

You squinted at your screen, as if the methodical rise and fall of his avatar’s chest could betray how he was feeling. Something had to have happened to this guy to make him feel this way about such a basic part of his identity, to make other people avoid his real name so universally. Aizawa couldn’t’ve have assigned you this task just to socialise him; something else was unfolding here. How did you enter the equation? If you’re supposed to guide someone who’s also lost their direction in life, you’re a hell of a bad candidate.

But what if you fuck up Aizawa’s plan, whatever it was?

Your recent history is riddled with things going downhill. What if you somehow screwed over Tenko? You’d be dragging someone else down with you, down to…the beginning again, a humiliating re-start, back at your fucking school, when the rest of your friends were out living the dream you’d all crafted together, the dream that apparently could go on without you in it.

Well. Enough of that. Distract yourself. Distract Tenko, too. “Got it. I want a hat.”

“What?”

“I want a hat,” you said, clicking the space around the fountain for your avatar to walk, “My head is cold. How do we get a hat? Hats. You should get one, too.”

“Hats. Very well,” said Tenko, clicking to face you across the shitty fountain, “Do you want one that’s purely decorative or one that has some sort of stats? Decorative ones we can get within a minute, with good RNG, by killing goblins across the bridge. There’s a low chance we could get a low-tier wizard’s hat doing that, too.”

“Then it will be a pleasure killing goblins with you, Tenko.”

“Mm,” he said at the back of his throat, “First, we’ll need to obtain some sort of weapons, since bare-handed punching them will take forever. We could either talk to the melee tutor to get a temporary sword or start wi—actually, we should talk to the melee tutor. Melee will probably be the easiest fighting style for you right now, and it’ll be the simplest, since you won’t have to worry about running out of ammunition or runes.”

“Sure,” you said, leaning back in bed, “Do we go starboard or port?”

“You can just call them east and west, y’know. And we go north.”

To be obstinate, you clicked the opposite direction that Tenkopeito was going, and the moment you ran offscreen, Tenko spoke in a low, grumbling voice into his microphone. “No, don’t run away from me. Come back here.”

The rumble in his voice shot warmth straight to your lower stomach, the nature of the encounter between the two of you changing in a second. Your avatar kept running to her destination, your hand frozen and hovering above the tracking pad. You blinked, your throat drying. Snapping back into it, you ran back to Tenko, who seemed unaware of what he just did to you—and he almost negated your arousal in the way he kept talking about sword upgrades and something called RNG.

Uh.

“—now, it’ll take about ten minutes, but it’ll seem like two hours of hard labour. Follow me across the bridge. Follow—there’s a follow mechanic, if you’ll right-click on me.”

Oh, you’ll right-click him, all right. You needed to know more about Tenko—why you’ve been paired off, what Aizawa’s planning for him, what—a tinge of shame soured at the back of your tongue, because what currently gripped you were minutiae: more about him, what he looks like, what he likes, what he does for fun, if you’re…the sort of person he’d get along with in real life, if you hadn’t been forced together.

God, get over yourself. You spend two months away from men your age, and now, you’re thirsting over someone you don’t even know because he said one hot thing. You needed to be socialised—no, stop. This isn’t about you. Stop thinking about what his hands would feel like on you, what he’d sound like grunting into your ear as he ground against you—

“You’ve been quiet for a minute,” said Tenko, slashing the first goblin, “Are you all right?”

A very heroic question when you haven’t been thinking too heroically. The thought of his voice muttering against your neck still grasped you tightly. “I’m having—technical difficulties.”

***

Poking your head outside of your dorm/apartment door, you scanned the hallway for witnesses. You gripped the handle of Dango’s carrier, still hidden behind the door inside your dorm, and you nodded back at her when she meowed at you.

“I know, baby,” you said, listening for footsteps, “We’ll be outside soon enough. Gotta check for people, though.”

Okay, nothing coming. You shifted Dango’s carrier out of your dorm and pulled out your key, sticking it in the lock at the same time as a door opened down the hall.

Too fast—you had to prod her carrier back inside, your foot stuck in the crack between wall and door, just as—as Midoriya strode down the hall. Keys jangling. Civilian clothes (a Froppy hoodie, in fact).

“Oh, hello!” Midoriya only seemed to notice you once you were struggling to close the door despite the carrier being the way, and hopefully you thrust it fully inside swiftly enough for him not to catch the flash of burgundy. He trotted up to you, hands in the pockets of his worn cargo pants. “I didn’t think you’d be around. Do you not have work today?”

Dango meowed mournfully through the door, and you stepped in front of it. “It’s my lunch break. I’m going for a walk.”

Midoriya nodded, and he glanced over his shoulder back to the room he’d left. “Gotcha, gotcha. Good weather for it, especially after that storm earlier this week.” easy smile stretched across his face as he faced you again, but his gaze weighed down on you, as if the number one hero’s attention magnified your failures in comparison to his rise to the top—and the fact that he didn’t mean to pressure you only exacerbated the feeling.

“Uh,” you said, stuffing your keys in your backpack and setting it on the ground, as if you’re not waiting to go back inside, “May I ask what you’re doing here? Don’t you have better—aren’t you busy?”

Chuckling, Midoriya scratched the back of his neck (and oh, in that laughter, he was hiding something). “I make time. I’m just visiting,” he said, jerking his head back towards the end of the hall, “A friend. I want to take care to see him regularly. I didn’t know you lived on the same hall.”

“If you can call it living,” you said, and for some reason, Midoriya frowned, took a step closer to you, and said your name under his breath, eyes fucking wide and too damn concerned for your comfort. Fuck, you only meant to make a self-depredating joke, not make the situation serious. 

“You—you know that you can reach out to us. I mean that. If you’re scared you’re gonna burden any of us—”

You’d squatted down to go through your bag, just to have something to do, to have an excuse to not look him in the eyes. If you were going to cry—which you were not!—then the number one hero’s not going to get to witness it.

“—then reach out to me, at least. I’ve got time, or else I can make it.” Midoriya was kneeling next to you, and you kept your eyes on the inside of your backpack. “If it makes you feel less like you’re bothering any of us, I could check in with you when I come see my friend. I’d already be on campus. I wouldn’t be going out of my way.” He sighed to fill the space when you didn’t answer. “What are you looking for?”

“I can’t find my planner,” you invented, and, acting like you were upset, you zipped your backpack again. “I think I need to go back inside to locate it.”

He shifted his jaw, and he glanced down at your bag and back at you. “Come with me to the vending machines, at least?”

The new symbol of peace, asking to spend time with you. You didn’t deserve it, so you shook your head. “I don’t have much time left in my break. I think I’d better let you go.”

Shifting his jaw, Midoriya tilted his head at you, his eyes glinting. “All right,” he said slowly, “You know yourself better than anyone else. Do what you need to. Rest up.” He started walking backwards towards the stairs. “And I want to see you more—we all do. I’ll see you the next time I come around. Maybe the three of us could hang out?”

“Sure,” you said, shoving your key in the lock to let a thrashing Dango out of her misery.

***

“The church. It’s the one with the altar icon in the minimap.”

You clicked enough so that your avatar would backtrack. “How am I supposed to know that’s the church? Is that icon supposed to be an altar? It looks nothing like an altar. It looks more like a steaming cup of tea.”

“That’s fair,” said Tenko into his headset, “but this is the easiest quest in the game. How are you having this much trouble with it?”

“Oh, stop that,” you said, reaching his character in front of the priest, “It’s intuitive to you because you’ve been playing this for years. Do we kill this guy?”

“What? No. He’s going to give us each the key to a dungeon underneath the church.”

“How can he give us both a key if there’s only one?” You clicked through the dialogue with the priest, and a key appeared in your inventory. “Also, how accurate is this dungeon? Because if this is a broadly medieval game, then the dungeons will be closer to underground bathrooms rather than, like, creepy and wet with shackles and bones. That was popularised by Walter Scott’s Ivanhoe.”

“How the hell do you know that,” Tenko asked flatly, “Ne—never mind. It doesn’t matter. Follow me to the trapdoor outside.”

You did, and it was locked. “Are we allowed to do this?” you asked, clicking on the key and then the lock, “Will we get arrested for trespassing?”

“Wha—no. No, we’re supposed to in order to progress the quest. In fact, our characters do a frankly criminal amount of breaking and entering throughout the game and never get checked for it. Hey, don’t go down there without me.”

Your character had only just gone down the trapdoor, prompting a blackout loading screen, but you popped back up to the surface before you could get a good look around. Your character stood next to Tenko’s, still next to the trapdoor. “What’s the holdup? I thought the only step was to use the key on the door. Did I skip something?”

“No, I—huh,” said Tenko, cutting himself off with a tinge of frustration creeping into his voice, “I lost the key.”

Raising a brow, you tilted your head. “What? How’d you lose it?”

“I don’t know. It was in my inventory one minute, and now it’s not. I didn’t touch it.” His mic picked up light scratching. “You’re not supposed to be able to lose the key, but I guess I can go back to the priest to get another. You wait—”

“Hold up,” you said, brow furrowed, “I have it. It’s in my inventory.”

“The hell? Are you sure it’s not just your own key?”

“Positive. I have two of them now. Same key, right next to each other. Want me to share my screen?”

“No, I—I believe you.” Tenko took a moment. “I’m not familiar with this sort of glitch, where an item from one player’s inventory randomly transfers to another’s. This doesn’t even happen, in my experience, but maybe it’s because this is one of the earliest quests coded into the game. It’s twenty-five-year-old code at this point, and it might have glitched because we’re both trying to perform the same quest actions on the same game tick.”

“Sure,” you said, “So, what do I do? Do I drop the key for you to pick up, or?”

“It disappears if you drop it. Trade me. Right-click, trade option.”

Once the key was traded, the two of you went down the trapdoor and wove your way back into the underground headquarters of a low-level cult, vacant for the moment but with evidence of rituals on the walls and floors, particularly in front of their bloodstained altar.

“Okay, we’re in their headquarters,” you said, making your character walk up the aisle, “What now? Priest guy didn’t give us any instructions.”

His avatar followed you and sat on the only programmed-to-be-sittable seat in the pew, his black cape (that he stole from a highwayman’s corpse) folding under his legs. “Actually, he did. You just clicked through his dialogue.”

“Because you’re here to tell me what to do, Quest Man.”

“Click on the—” Tenko heaved an enormous sigh, microphone sparking. “You figure it out. What’s clickable in this room? What has examine text?”

You hovered your mouse over most of the room, and nothing popped up with the examine option, except for something on the altar. “It’s this weird-looking, severed hand, isn’t it? This thing standing up on a slice of wrist by itself?” Your character walked nearer to it, fingers splayed widely enough to hold an in-game apple. “Weirdest ring-holder I’ve ever seen.”

When Tenko didn’t say anything, you glanced towards his character, but he was still sitting on the pew.

“Is this whole quest a pun? Because it’s one of the easiest quests, so they’re giving us a lot of guidance, so it’s like they’re holding our hands to get it through?”

That broke his silence: he scoffed into the mic. “I doubt it,” he said, “You need to grab the hand for the quest to keep going.”

“Fine,” you said, clicking the hand, and the instant your avatar touched it, a zombie spawned from the altar and began to attack you. “Dude! Did you know that thing was gonna jump me?” you asked, clicking away a few spaces but turning around to stab at it with your stupid bronze dagger, “And you just sat there? You could’ve warned me.”

“I did, and the priest did, and the duke who gave us this quest did. That’s why we went and baked all those pies in your inventory, yeah? For you to eat during this fight?”

Your character kept missing hits. “Yeah, but—like! I didn’t know the fight would be now.”

“Hey, relax.” Tenko’s voice sounded muffled, like his mouth was smushed as his fist dug into his cheek. “It’s only a level 12, and you’re level 9. Not too big of a difference. With your armour and weapon, you out-level it.”

The miss sound effect spoke for itself.

“You’ll kill it eventually. You won’t always hit zeroes, so it’ll pass.”

Though your character dealt her first damage, you frowned. “That’s…that’s actually really good advice, Tenko. The stuff you just said would work well if you were trying to calm someone down—reminding people of reality and emphasising perseverance over luck or natural talent are some of the better ways to encourage people.”

“Is that so,” he asked flatly, trying to put off a yawn and failing, “I haven’t—I wasn’t thinking about hero work. Just thinking about the game.”

“Well, it was nice,” you said, “and it seemed like it came naturally. Mind if I ask if something caused it?”

He yawned again, but he must have leant away from the mic so that you wouldn’t hear anything besides the initial inhale. “Nothing special happened today, but I’m too tired to get irritated. Therapy took a lot out of me today.”

Therapy. Therapy. Okay, so he’s got an official diagnosis somewhere. The word today implies that it’s a regular thing, and for some reason, this session was more intense. Intense emotionally? Physically? What kind of therapy? Well, they offered cognitive behavioural therapy on campus, but considering his non-traditional student status, his might be outsourced. Plus, if you, a former hero but technically a civilian, are being implemented into his care plan without being informed directly—

“You usually don’t go this long without saying some inane non sequitur,” said Tenko, that same, strange scratching picking up on the mic, “Snap out of it. You’re gonna get killed by the easiest quest boss in the game.”

Making an undignified noise, you shook yourself and spam-clicked on a cherry pie for your character to eat until she was healed completely, and then you clicked on the zombie to attack again.

“Why’d you pause when I said therapy? Surprised I’d go? Think that sort of thing is below me?”

“Of course not,” you said, trying to seem like you were focused on the fight so that he wouldn’t get nervous about sharing personal information, “Therapy good. Therapy great. Everyone needs to go to therapy.” Since he appeared to be taking this casually, you could probably ask after the type without it seeming too intrusive. “What kind? CBT? That’s what—”

“You think U.A. would arrange for me to get my cock and balls tortured? That wouldn’t qualify as therapy for me, certainly, and there’s no way that U.A. would pay for—”

“Not fucking cock-and-ball torture, you muppet; cognitive behavioural therapy. The sitting-down-with-therapist-to-talk-about-your-trauma-and-restructuring-the-way-you-think-through-practise type. You fuckin’ pervert,” you said, grinning at his avatar onscreen.

“Good to know. I didn’t know the name for it.”

“It’s good that you made this mistake with me instead of with Aizawa-sensei.”

“He’s probably more inclined towards bondage. Congratulations on killing your first boss,” said Tenko, and you blinked in surprise at your character: you’d defeated the zombie while staring at him. It fell to the ground, dropping bones and some sort of arrows.

“Take those. Check to see if they’re iron or steel. All right, equip them in your ammo slot for now so that they don’t take up an inventory space.”

You did so. “Why didn’t it attack me with the arrows if it were holding them?”

“There’s no logic to it besides that arrows are on its drop table. It’s coded to attack by punching you in the face, which doesn’t involve arrows.”

“Sure. Now, let’s get out of the cult basement; I wanna bake more pies until we can make apple ones. Did you know that the first record of fruit pies was around 1600? That means these fruit pies are anachronistic, since this game pitches itself as medieval.”

“Is that…” The hesitance had you beaming, daring him to actually ask it. “Is that not medieval?”

“Tenko, get your head out of your ass. For reference, 1600 is arguably the year the Azuchi-Momoyama period ended and the Edo period began. The game frames itself as medieval European, and 1600 is hard Renaissance-slash-Early-Modern. That’s Shakespeare times, screwboy.”

Only silence on your headphones. Character still on the pew. You made your character walk over to his to perform the curtsy emote, and in real life, you frowned. “Did I go too far there? Bit too annoying? I’m really sorry if I’m bothering you with this sort of thing; my friends say that I—”

“Nothing’s wrong. I needed a moment,” came Tenko’s voice, quiet and steady, “I could hear you smiling, and it was—it was good.”

Inhaling sharply, you pressed a fist to your mouth. Great. Fucking fabulous. Goddammit, you hadn’t aimed for it to go this way, but were you now the one getting flustered at something as simple as—

“Do most people consider a long pause in conversation rude? Did I fuck up with that?”

“No! No, of course not,” you were saying, trying to recover but still startled at how he was able to flip the vibe of your conversations in so few words, words that seemed so casual to him but grabbed you by the throat/cunt, “Especially since you followed-up with a check-in of how it might be strange; a lot of times, people will be comforted by checking to see if something’s okay with them personally…”

Frowning, you trailed off when another avatar entered the cult’s sanctuary and strode up the aisle. You hovered over the new guy’s stupid frog mask to see his username was Venomothman.

“Fucking great,” grumbled Tenko, “Here comes someone else to break our immersion. Ignore him. I’ll go ahead and fight the zombie so that we can get out of here.”

“The zombie’s dead. You don’t have to fight him,” you said, as Venomothman sat directly on top of Tenkopeito, with both avatars glitching as they took up the same space on the pew.

Tenko made some sort of noise in the back of his throat. “No, I have to kill it, too. It’s like each of us is the only one doing the quest, so in your version, the evil has been defeated, but in my version—it’s this thing called an instance—”

Venomothman: wow a couple questing together

Venomothman: bet ur one guy on two accounts

Venomothman: roleplaying that he can get a gf

The new guy’s in-text chat appeared in yellow font above his avatar’s frog-faced head, and somehow, the boggly, green eyes made his words more irritating.

Venomothman: leave the basement sometimes ya incel

“Some people are assholes recreationally,” said Tenko, making his avatar stand to go to the altar as the clatter of mechanical typing came through the mic, “Let me get rid of this fucking scumba—wait.”

 Venomothman: ur doing too much work to stare at pixelated ass

“Would it be correct for a hero to insult someone online?”

You shrugged, even though he couldn’t see it. “Eh. You’re not on duty, and you’re not under any persona connected with your public branding. I would say go for it, but since you’re trying to be better with people, you may want to practise.”

Venomothman: somehow this is even more pathetic than never knowing the touch of a woman at all

“Then I’ll shut him down. The shit-talking isn’t bothering me so much as his breaking our immersion in the game,” said Tenko, grabbing the hand on the altar to start his instance of the fight, “I’m trying to cultivate a particular experience for you, and he’s a fucker who won’t stop yapping. Give me a second.”

Venomothman: is this what does it for you??

Venomothman: why no response

Venomothman: hard to type with one hand, isn’t it, ******* shithead

You laughed through your nose. “Cipherstone censors the word fuck?”

“It censors fuck; it censors cunt,” said Tenko, avatar casting a weak air spell at the zombie, slowly, slowly draining its health, “Everything else is fair game.”

“Will it censor variations of cunt? Like, if I typed in cuntbag? Or—actually, let’s find that out later,” you said, tapping the buttons on your earbud cord to turn up the volume, “Let’s practise navigating difficult social interactions. What’s our goal here in this conversation? Is it to continue to engage?”

“No.” His spell missed, and the zombie landed a hit on his character, prompting him to eat half of a pie. “It’s to close the interaction. Therefore, I need to say something concise that invites no response, right? I’m assuming that a simple fuck off is unacceptable.”

“You’re getting better at this, y’know?”

“Is that condescension I detect?”

“Only a little.” You slumped back against your headboard and reached for the bottle of water on your bedside table. “Actually—no. No condescension. Genuinely, Tenko, you’re picking up on this stuff easily, and it’s impressive. You’ll be able to walk little old ladies across the street with style and flair in no time.” 

“Hilarious,” he said, voice restrained and tight at the mention of his name (too easy—he gives himself away aurally so freely; who knows what you could read off of him when you had a visual?), “I’m sure no one wants me touching them. Can I—hm.” He sounded like he was pressing his fist against his face somehow. “Why you keep bothering to compliment me? Most people bitch down to me like I’ve spat my own cum in their coffee.”

“Wha—how about because you deserve to be complimented? Listen,” you said, electing to brush over his vivid simile, “Silent admiration rots. By keeping in appreciation or gratitude, you’re not doing anyone any good. Kind regards are meant to be shared. Like, now, if I held back any positive thoughts concerning your growth, then you might not feel encouraged to keep going.”

“Like I’m gonna go around fucking complimenting ev—”

“I’m not saying you have to,” you said, “but consider trying it more often. See if anything turns out better. And be sure to be sincere about it—obviously.”

“This is bullshit.”

“Just consider it. So. What has he told us about himself based on how he’s insulted you?”

“He’s so low-level that it looks like he just created his account. His stats are even lower than ours,” said Tenko, speaking more quickly now that it was a subject he was more comfortable with, unequipping his wand to punch the zombie instead, “But he’s gone out of his way to get the frog mask.”

“His words, Tenko,” you said, unscrewing the cap and doing your fucking darndest to pinch your mouth from smiling at his slight hitch when you said his name, “I’m trying to get you to notice on whom he looks down and what that means for his personal social status.”

“Right,” he said a bit too quickly, a bit of a break in his voice on the word, “He’s debasing me for—oh, you’re brilliant. How the hell do you notice these things? He’s using basement dweller as insult, meaning he considers himself above that. Leave it to me.”

You muted yourself briefly to glug down water; you didn’t know how sensitive the mic was on your earbuds, but considering that you could catch onto Tenko’s occasional rustling of what sounded like plastic bags on his side or typing on his mechanical keyboard, as he was right now, you would prefer not to be emitting the same.

Tenkopeito: Your mom wishes you would come out of your room to talk with the rest of the family more often

You spluttered into your water bottle as the yellow text appeared above his head, and you unmuted yourself. “That is not what I meant for you to—”

“Was I being mean?” The mic caught the creak of Tenko’s chair as he leant back in it, and you could picture him defensive and pouting as he crossed his arms (and it struck you that you couldn’t imagine his face. Grimacing, you bit the inside of your cheek). “I wasn’t being rude. I could be so much crueller, but I thought this would be more of a devastating blow. Living on the same floor as your family isn’t the same as living in the basement, so I’m acknowledging his level of social power while still demeaning—”

Venomothman: i mean you right

Venomothman: lmao how tf did you know it was me

“I think we should log out,” you said, wiping the water off of your chin with the back of your hand and setting the bottle back on the bedside table.

Over Tenko’s microphone, you heard the shrill pitch of a custom ringtone and a startled but violent shuffle at the noise. “Hold on. I’m getting a call,” he said, voice coming through at a distance, as if he’d knocked his mic aside.

“Oh? Who is it?”

It took him a minute, but Tenko eventually replied, “A friend.”

That must be a damn good microphone, because you could still pick up on Tenko’s side of the conversation a few feet away. “Yes, hello?” he asked, a bit more brusquely than you’d heard him before.

“Oh. I didn’t,” he was saying, “How was I supposed to know that you’d—yes, that’s her. The one working with Aizawa-sensei.”

Very nice, you were thinking, as you unlocked your own phone to check your messages. Very good for him to have friends. Not that you would’ve pegged him as the absolute loner type, because he proved to be adaptable and quick on his feet, but since Aizawa’d recruited you for interpersonal help, you’d considered that he may not have friends. So, good on him for having at least one friend, it seemed, who cared enough to create an account on some stupid video game solely to annoy him.

“—cool of you to make an account to hang out with me. Stop fucking laughing; I am trying to be kind to you, shitstain. Okay. I don’t know. I haven’t been in contact with him in the past two days. I’ve been busy. Let me check.” Tenko leant back towards the mic to address you. “Do we have a schedule for the rest of the week? For instance, are we doing this again on Thursday?”

“I thought we were,” you said, scanning your room for your planner so that you could check your calendar, “Did something come up?”

“It’s not imperative that I go,” Tenko was saying into your ear, while you picked up your laptop to walk over to your U.A.-issued desk, “but another friend who’s been out of town will finally be back then. We might hang out.”

“Psh, go with your friends,” you said, delighted that he had more than one (fighting envy that it was so easy for them to meet up), “We can do this another time.”

“Understood,” Tenko said and backed away from the mic.

Venomothman: so have you sucked his dick yet

Tenko’s incensed shout of “Touya!” had you turning down the volume.

Venomothman: not to be the world’s worst wingman, but my dude is packing. and goes commando all the time.

Venomothman: and i would know. “i” sometimes “did” our “laundry”

You: what’s with all those quotation marks

Venomothman: and do you know the last time it was sucked? never

(Fucking hell. This Touya was walking you back into forbidden territory: the sexualisation of Tenko. After that first session, when you’d been turned on by his confident, rumbling voice as he’d given you an order, you’d felt guilty for sexualising him for the rest of the night. It was as if instead of friend-zoning him, you’d sex-zoned him, only able to see him as a sexual person/object. For the sake of your mission task, that felt unfair.

Or maybe you weren’t even sexualising him. Maybe your brain was appropriately interpreting what he’d done as sexual.

Whatever. Something in your gut was begging you not to see Tenko only through romantic or sexual lenses right now, and you couldn’t explain why.

And talking about Tenko’s apparently massive dick was not helping.)

Tenkopeito: Touya if you don’t ******* shut up I am going to tear off your other arm

Venomothman: no need, boss man

You heard Tenko sigh and say into his phone, sounding exhausted, “I’m not your boss anymore, Touya.”

Venomothman: no need, douchebag

***

Draped over the side of your bed, you dangled a shoelace in front of the gap in an attempt to coax Dango out from underneath. “Dango, sweetie,” you said, whipping the shoelace to the side, “Come out here so that I can look you in the eyes. Where is my planner, you whore?”

At a firm knock on your door, you shot up, dropping the lace. “Never mind,” you said, sliding off the bed, “Stay hidden.”

You opened your door on Aizawa, bare arm raised in mid-knock, wisps of hair plastered to his forehead by dried sweat, and a sweatshirt tied around his waist. He took two seconds to look over you before saying, “Get dressed. Civilian clothes. You have three minutes.”

Throwing on yesterday’s outfit, you rushed to follow Aizawa out of the dorm and off campus, nearly stepping on his heels while he wove through night pedestrians, pulling on his own sweatshirt to minimise skin contact once the crowd thickened.

You flipped up your coat collar to sneak a glance over your shoulder. “Is this a test?”

Aizawa combed his fingers back through his hair, gaze straight ahead. “Not for you.”

“Right.” You stepped more lightly, naturally falling back into patrol patterns: noting exits (narrow alleyways favouring the left side, underground into the subway station), checking vantage points (upper-storey windows in the resident buildings, non-industrial rooftops), honing in on light sources (yellow- and LED-tinted streetlamps, ambience from open businesses) and physical presence (close enough to brush shoulders with passerby [putting you on edge, because the slightest touch could be pivotal]). You had to consciously unclench your jaw, body flooded with stress it hadn’t felt in months. Swiping at the inner corner of your eye, you asked, “Does it have anything to do with the guy in the black hoodie and face mask following us?”

Aizawa laughed through his nose, once. “All right, then. What’s that ice cream place you and Shinsou went to all the time? Take us there.”

Bewildered, you changed directions to head towards Nekozawa’s, with Aizawa placing a hand on your shoulder to slow your pace, and by the time you pushed open Nekozawa’s glass door to the glowing, pink parlour, you were prepared to hold it open for your follower in the face mask. You watched his broad back as he ordered some ungodly, radioactive-blue ice cream with gummy bears before retreating to a table outside despite the dropping temperature, and Aizawa gestured you forward so that he could pay for the three of you.

Holding your ice cream, you hesitated at the door, swaying underneath the seasonal cat decorations dangling from the ceiling.

“Go on,” said Aizawa, retrieving the U.A. card from his wallet, “I’ve got to make a phone call, so don’t wait up. Don’t be too harsh on him; we’re here because he did a good job in the field today. Tailing you was extra practise.”

Nodding, you nudged open the door, bracing yourself at the cold, night air, and let it drift shut behind you as you approached the table, the farthest one from the pink lights.

Hood pulled up, Tenko bent over his blue monstrosity, face mask hanging by a loop over his left ear. Scuffing your boots on the concrete to announce your presence, you sat across from him, setting your cup on the cast iron before swinging your leg over the bench. You managed a cursory glance over what appeared to be a sketchbook before he closed it, and once he’d stowed it away, he swopped his spoon to his dominant hand to keep eating.

“You draw, Tenko?” To make him feel more comfortable, you kept your gaze towards Aizawa inside on the phone. “Do you think you’re any good?”

“Not yet. But I’m gonna be,” he said, clicking his pen and clenching it in his left hand, “I’ve got all these fucking artist’s gloves, so I might as well put ‘em to use.”

“Very nice,” you said, nodding, closing your eyes as you dipped your spoon into your ice cream, “But as a reminder, you don’t have to be good at something to enjoy it. I love doing stuff I’m absolute shit at. It reminds me of medieval bestiaries. They didn’t know shit about animals, but, boy howdy, did they have fun illustrating them. Did you know a weasel used to be called a polecat?”

Tenko huffed, his face mask fluttering. “It really is you.”

“Of course it is,” you said, beaming, and for the first time, you looked at him.

Tension flooded your teacup of a body and overflowed into the saucer and onto the floor. Heightened by the cold, a vein on the back of your hand strained and pulsed visibly, and, jaw locking, you lunged over the tabletop to grab him by the shoulders, shaking him.

“What the hell is wrong with you‽” You climbed over the table, pushed his ice cream out of the way (he shot out a hand to save it from toppling off the table, and he ripped off his face mask to set it aside before it fell to the ground), and planted your foot on his thigh and your elbows on his chest, caging him in as you forced him flat on the bench. “Why the fuck are you using your real name in your fucking Cipherstone username, you fucking moron‽ People could fucking track you!”

The man who had been Shigaraki Tomura eyed your fists in his hoodie and then his cup of ice cream. “You didn’t have a problem with it before.”

“I—” This idiot! “I didn’t know it was you. There are a lot of Tenkos.”

“Then there’s my logic,” he said, hands dangling by his sides, making no attempt to touch you—you didn’t know if you appreciated it or not. “I thought you knew who I was.”

“No, I fucking—I would have given you advice that was more specific to you, over the spiel I was giving interns.” Releasing your grip on his hoodie, you sat back up and scooted over on the tabletop. Though you wanted to keep holding him, to hug him after all he’s been through, he probably wouldn’t want that. “I’m—sorry about tackling you. I, uh—fuck,” you said, and, grimacing, you slid his ice cream back to him and reached across for your own, pretending with everything you’ve got that it was perfectly normal that you were sitting on a table next to Shigaraki Tomura, who’s been teaching you to play a video game, who’s apparently living at the end of the hall, who’s decorated his door with Eri’s silver tinsel for Christmas, who’s banned from drinking caffeine, who could rest his fucking head on your thigh if he wanted. Normal. Yeah.

“Again, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to keep doing that,” he said, fishing out a gummy bear like you hadn’t lunged at him, “Your reaction was reasonable.”

“It—it wasn’t, really,” you said, laughing nervously, “I wasn’t expecting you. I mean, no one knows what—what happened to you. Afterwards. It was really unclear.”

“It was that way on purpose,” said Tenko, “It was thought to be better to emphasise the total destruction of All for One instead of whatever happened to his leftovers.” He shifted a bear to his back molars to bite into the frozen gummy better. “Nezu-sensei decided it was better to keep it muddled for now.”

Muddled was a good way to put it. There’d been so much chaos at the end of the war that so much never was accounted for. You’d think that the location of Shigaraki’s body would be high on the list, but satisfaction was found simply in the splintered, spectacular remains of AFO. Shigaraki’s name wasn’t cleared, per se, but in the aftermath, Midoriya especially stressed that yes, Shigaraki committed atrocities, but he’d been abused, groomed, and literally bodily possessed by AFO to think that way. Didn’t excuse him, but wasn’t entirely his fault.

The locations of the other PLF members—well, the core of the League, really—were public, if not vague. Spinner was in the States at a rehab that specialised in heteromorph trauma; Toga was at a local women’s facility called Sakura Grove, and Dabi was living with his family—he must have been that Touya on the phone, holy shit.

So, here he was, sitting on the bench at the same ice cream parlour you visited with the same friends who fought him, hunched over in oversized, black clothes you suspected were Aizawa’s, broad shoulders and faded scars out of place in the pink lights, white hair pulled back in a blunt ponytail with his bangs flopping over his forehead, seemingly unbothered by the toe of your boot pressing against his denim-covered thigh.

God. He’s scratched at his neck so much that it looks like he’s been beheaded with a blunt axe.

Tenko’s eyes flickered up to you, their colour deepening to crimson in the tinted lights. “So. You’ve got questions.”

“Are you okay?”

Tenko swallowed with effort, scowling. “Don’t start with a hard one.”

“Right,” you said, throat drying, “Who knows you’re staying at U.A.?”

“Faculty and staff. My therapist. The police force. The ramen shop Aizawa-sensei and I go to. The intensive rehab I was at before. The top of the hero commission. Touya, Touya’s father, Spinner, Toga. Eri and Midoriya,” he said, tongue swiping over his lower lip, “You.”

Somehow both fewer and more than you’d figured. “What exactly…is the situation? Aizawa-sensei was vague.”

“Officially, I’m like Eri: a ward of U.A. My old rehab thought I was good enough to live off their campus, so I’m back here, where I can be watched by people capable enough to bring me down if I go crazy again,” he said, brow furrowed as he traced the side of his cup with his spoon, “I should resent that, but it’s not like I have anywhere else to go, especially somewhere as comfortable as this. This is fucking stupid to say aloud, but fucking—fuckin’ All Might is the closest thing I have to family now, along with Midoriya.”

“I’m not following.”

“My grandma was the holder of One for All before All Might had it.” He pointed at you with his spoon. “So you can make the connection from there. But it’s stupid; I’m stupid—” He was shaking his head and staring into his lap. “—because it’s like I have a brother in Midoriya and a goddamn father in All Might—and then Aizawa-sensei’s acting like a dad, too, to me and Eri, and Nezu-sensei? Nezu-sensei is so fucking cool,” said Tenko, dragging his hand down his face, “He’s got a driver’s license! I don’t even have one of those. And he can type fucking 210 words per minute with those little rat paws, and I’m still getting used to using all five fingers, fuck.”

Cute. You scraped the bottom of your cup. “Hey, I think you type well.”

“Yeah, well, that’s why it takes me so long to reply in the in-game chat function. Why I prefer communicating over voice call. Learning new habits, and shit.” Tenko stabbed his ice cream with his spoon. “Nezu-sensei has arranged for me to train as an aftermath-clean-up hero. I had been—” His fingers on one hand circled the thumb of the other. “—in discussion with him in rehab about what I could do, and we decided I could consistently help when there’s collapsed buildings after attacks; I could dust the wreckage so that we could find hostages or make it easier to clean up and rebuild, and Aizawa-sensei and All Might-sensei have been working with me to control what parts of what I touch gets dusted so that I could create pitfall traps for holding criminals. It’s…going. It’s going,” he said, curling his lips in his mouth to moisten them, and with narrowed, determined eyes, he took another bite of ice cream, the blue staining the inside of his lips.

“Tenko, that’s a really cool application of your quirk. I hope you can find more,” you said, tilting your head and smiling down at him, “but—I have to ask—aren’t you tired?”

Tenko rolled his eyes. “Of course. You’re part of the group ensuring I don’t have caffeine.”

“No, I mean,” you said, shaking your head, “I mean, you don’t have to be perceived as useful. You’re—you’re just fine if you wanted to rest. You’re worthwhile just as you, not as—as a job, as a, I don’t know, a redeemed hero or anything. You can just be Tenko.”

“I know. My therapist keeps reminding me. But one of the most vivid memories I have from when I was living in that house,” said Tenko, sneering, “is that I desperately wanted to be a hero and that I would pretend to be one a lot. While I’m aware that I can never atone for what I’ve done, if I did nothing but rest, I’d be alone with my thoughts. And with what I’m learning to do, as a hero, someday, someone might…need me. Need my help. I imagine that’s a good feeling.”

You sat back, leaning on your hands, the cast-iron pattern cutting into your palms, to survey him. “You’re very much re-writing my first impressions of you as my gaming buddy and as the post-war Shigaraki. You’re surprisingly well-adjusted.”

He snorted. “I shouldn’t think it’s surprising. I’ve had almost a year and a half in intensive rehab, and I’m still in therapy every day.” He started listing on his fingers, starting with his thumb. “I’m on antidepressants; I know where my next meal’s coming from and when I’ll get it; I consistently have a safe roof over my head, and I know my friends are getting that, too. I have mentors who care for me as a human person instead of as a tool. I get to stay in contact with my friends and get to make new ones,” he said, nodding curtly at you before quickly looking away, “I’m fucking away from that sadistic fuckface. He’s goddamn dead and burned away to nothing. That’s the main thing. Everything else is a bonus.”

Tenko sighed, bangs fluttering with the movement, his shoulders straining as he leaned onto both his elbows on the table. He sighed again and scooped the last gummy bear out of his cup, and you let the silence carry on while you finished eating.

“Long phone call,” Tenko said eventually.

An increasingly grumpy Aizawa was leaning against the glittery wall inside, phone between his ear and shoulder, and furiously scraping the inside of his ice cream cup.

“Yeah,” you said, “but it’s been good talking to you, Tenko. I really appreciate you telling me all of this.”

“I would’ve talked about it sooner, but I figured you knew who I was and didn’t want to address it,” said Tenko, tapping his fingers one by one on the table.

Pulling the collar of your coat closer to your neck, you frowned, hesitating on how to phrase it. You watched your breath cloud in the night air before settling on, “There’s an off-switch?”

Brow pinching very slightly, Tenko followed your gaze to his hand, with all five fingers coming to rest on the cast iron, and he tapped all five of them on it for emphasis. “Yeah. There always has been. All for One kept it from me. Power of belief kept me jittery and alert my whole life.”

“So long as you thought you’d destroy anything you touched, you would?”

He nodded. “That bitch.”

“Agreed. We should kill him.”

And Tenko laughed. Just for a moment, barely making any noise, but he smiled with his teeth, grin stretching across his face as he looked away and eventually closing his lips, the smile lingering for a few more precious seconds.

***

You closed your laptop to answer the phone at work, clearing your throat to ready your receptionist voice before you picked up. “U.A. University Administration; how may I help you?”

“I need you to fucking murder me,” Tenko spat through the phone, angry and panicked, “I need you to rip out my bones and suck out my guts through a straw. He fucking let me hold onto them, and I’ve fucking gone and lost such a fucking iconic piece of—”

“Tenko, please, take a breath,” you said, relaxing your customer service mode but clutching the phone to your ear, and after catching the eye of the woman with jars of strawberry preserves waiting to see Nezu, you slumped over in your seat so that she couldn’t see you over the desk’s overhang. “Tell me what’s wrong. We can fix it. Are you alone? Is everyone else busy? Do you need to come sit with me?”

“I—fuck,” he said, and you heard some deliberately slow breathing, but his voice still had an irate, twitchy edge afterwards. “During our practise patrol last night, Aizawa-sensei was talking about support equipment for me. I’d never given it much thought, because it’s always been just me and my hands. He leant me his Eraser Goggles for me to think about for my—and I don’t know where they fucking are,” he said, inhaling sharply on the last word, “I’d left them on my desk, but I’d taken them up to the roof to sketch them, and then I’d brought them back to my dorm—”

“And Aizawa-sensei must have swung by to pick them up since then,” you said, pushing yourself back to slide in your swivel chair to the back of the reception desk, “because he was here at the beginning of my shift to print something off, and the goggles are on top of the printer. Relax, Tenko.”

“Hooooooly fuck, you’re kidding,” said Tenko, audibly deflating, and you smiled to yourself as you slid their band around your wrist.

You kicked yourself back up to the front. “You’re okay. You’re not gonna get in trouble. I’ll bring them by at the end of my shift.” You sat up straight, and the strawberry preserves woman was shooting a concerned look in your direction. “I’m at work, though, so I think we’d better end the call soon. Anything else you need?”

Tenko hummed into the phone. “Not really. You can’t be that busy.”

You smiled again, feeling—feeling domestic, as if he were your boyfriend calling you during work hours. How strange, Shigaraki Tomura. How interesting. “Would you believe I was grinding in Cipherstone when you called?”

“And you don’t call yourself a gamer,” he said, clearing his throat multiple times, “What skills?”

“Woodcutting and firemaking,” you said, opening your laptop again, “Are you feeling under the weather? Your voice had a bit of a rasp there.” Sounded like his old voice for a moment.

“Further cementing that Aizawa-sensei’s right to be worried about you. He says your brain’s going haywire analysing any detail work you can get, because you’re not out in the field anymore,” said Tenko, clearing his throat again (?), “Am I your new project?”

“Tell me what’s wrong, lest I pick up some damn throat lozenges for you before I come home,” you said, and a voice in the back of your head screamed that that threat was extremely cosy and intimate, especially since you’re claiming both of you have a home in the same place—which, sure, you both lived on the same hallway, but so did Aizawa and Eri, and please shut up; Shimura Tenko needs a friend, not a lover right now. Besides, that stupid hallway wasn’t really home for either of you but was more like a temporary holding cell.

“Fine. I’ve been throwing up all morning.”

“Thank you,” you said, electing not to make a pregnancy joke, “Do you need to see Recovery Girl?”

“No, I’m used to it, and I’ve already talked to her about it. I threw up a lot out of anxiety and stress when I was growing up with All for One, and now I’m throwing up because my body can’t handle the amount of food it’s getting regularly, which is fucking ridiculous, since it’s still less than a normal person’s version of three meals a day.”

What. The fuck. How can he casually drop details of deep trauma like it’s nothing? How could AFO let a child keep vomiting out of stress for years and years and never interfere? Well. Yeah, he could. You supposed that Shigaraki’s voice, as you first heard it as the USJ incident, was the ultimate result of that heavy strain on his throat for years. Explains some things about his teeth back then, too.

God. If AFO weren’t dead, you’d strangle him. Keeping a child physically weak because he’d be easier to mould. It was known that AFO had been psychologically manipulating Shigaraki, but now that you thought about it, manipulating his physical growth would have served AFO, too, since he was planning to move into Shigaraki’s body.

And what did this guy do now that he’s got bodily autonomy? Oh. Just. Play some video games. Talk with his friends. Try out some new hobbies. Make crafts with Eri.

It’s a shame AFO didn’t have a grave, because you’d be skiving off work to drown it in acid.

“My stomach is killing me,” said Tenko, “I’ve got to hang up to drink something and go to sleep. Knock on my door when you get home. I want to start a new quest as soon as you finish work.”

Home. He’d said it, too. He probably didn’t mean it in the same, domestic way that you’d been entertaining, but it made your heart swell. “Okay, Tenko. See you then.”

***

His therapist had assigned him homework: go on a planned, public outing with a peer, and stay out for at least an hour.

It wasn’t exactly a picnic you were packing, you kept telling yourself, scooting behind Tenko to get to the spice cabinet in the dorm kitchen, because that’d be too close to a date rather than homework. But the two of you packed a meal to take, with Eri sitting on the kitchen counter while she nibbled at rabbit-cut apple slices, and she held the thermos of decaf tea in her lap until it was time to stow it away.

After a short train ride and a quiet walk through midtown, Tenko stopped you in front of the back gate to what appeared to be a restored, historical estate, judging by the golden shachihoko shibi on each corner of polished hip-and-gable rooftops of the extensively aristocratic—mansion? palace?—that you could make out in across the distance of its sprawling grounds, the immediacy of which was the excessively well-kept, traditional garden that you and Tenko were breaking into.

“Is this legal?” you asked as Tenko reached through the grate to unlatch the doorway.

“I have an in with the gardener,” he said, sweeping the gate open for you and gesturing brusquely for you to enter.

“No, that wasn’t a joke,” you said, taking the few steps inside, finding yourself planted onto a polished, level stepping stone, and staring down a squeaky clean tsukubai despite the thin layer of frost over the water’s surface as the whole bowl began to freeze, “You can’t be doing anything even vaguely illegal, Tenko.”

When you said his name, he closed his eyes, pausing for just a hair in his relatching the gate, before facing you and shifting the strap of his bag farther up his shoulder. “Prude. Yes, we have permission from the owner.”

He kept looking back over his shoulder at you as he led you through the gardens, hopping across stepping stones to pass over a carefully shaped brook that led to a tiny waterfall near stone lanterns, weaving through trellises with the wintry shells of wisteria vines and shaped evergreens. He tutted and rolled his eyes when you stopped at the waterlily-coated koi pond, its fish swimming and flicking their tails in the artificially heated water (for some, odd reason, what appeared to be a compact duck coop had been constructed near the pond’s edge, its wood new and un-bleached by the sun like the rest of garden décor). You’d been about to ask about it when Tenko had jumped out of his skin at the sound of a deer scare, bamboo tapping stone.

“Stop laughing,” Tenko said, cheeks burning (and you tried not to take too much pleasure in that, but you couldn’t help it).

“Oh, a sensitive boy, a delicate boy,” you said, grinning as you hopped onto the same stone as him, cool, clouding breaths mixing together in the proximity, and you yourself could feel heat rise to your face. “Nothing to be ashamed of. Good traits to have, actually. Means you’re feeling secure and comfortable in your surroundings, if you’re off-set that easily.” Feeling bold—it was the cold; it was how the proximity already flustered him; it was how his hands were full because of the bag; it was—whatever—you reached for his silly All Might scarf and re-tied the front, fluffing it up to cover more of his neck.

You made the mistake of making eye contact: full of caution, his eyes kept darting from your hands to your face, searching for something, his lips parted, otherwise completely fucking frozen.

Were you making him uncomfortable? You stilled, your fingers still in the fringe of his scarf, tension tightening in your chest and jaw (clenching).

Tenko noticed. And—and to this day, you can’t believe he fucking did this—he ran his tongue over his lower lip and lifted his chin, exposing more of his neck to you. He then was suddenly very interested in the koi pond, the ruddiness spreading from his cheeks to his ears.

Throat dry, you gave his scarf a final tug and patted it (?) to show (??) a job well done (???). “Yeah,” you said, smoothly, like a smooth person, like someone who adjusts scarves of hot, in-process-of-reformation villains on the regular, “Where are we going?”

Tenko spun on his heel and strode away, muttering what sounded like, “Right into my grave.”

You pretended not to hear it and let him lead you to the only building unattached to the main house: a small, traditional teahouse that had a recent addition to it in the back. The creak of the bamboo engawa when you climbed onto it was muffled underneath the bright pealing of windchimes strung across the covered porch. Tenko was already kneeling at the tearoom’s sunken fireplace inside, its handle carved into a fish, fiery as its kindling, and was unpacking the travel teacups from the bag as you closed the door behind you, shutting out the cold, enveloped by the comfortable heat trapped inside by the cushioned walls.

Tenko must have arranged for this space to have been prepared for you. A kotatsu with floor cushions was tucked near the fireplace, pre-heated, with two further space heaters in the unoccupied corners, cords trailing into what must be a hallway linking the traditional and modern rooms, the latter of which was shut off from view. Beside a red-tinted wooden dresser stood an oddly empty tokonoma, and instead of a scroll or painting, amidst bits of pieces of scotch tape hastily half-torn off the back was a shittily cut-out, paper heart.

Shaking your head, you took a step towards Tenko, and the floor chirped at you, freezing you in place.

“Yeah, I don’t know why they do that,” said Tenko, pushing on his knees to stand, “They just do.”

“These must be nightingale floors,” you said, crossing to the kotatsu, a bird under each step, “The chirping’s caused by the way the nails rub against the v-shaped clamps holding the floor together. Have you been to Nijō Castle in Kyoto? These are in the hallway—supposedly used as a security measure, but who knows.”

“You need a hobby.” Tenko ripped the paper heart from the back of the tokonoma, crumpling it in his fist. A shred of it remained under the scrap of tape on the wall, which he bent towards to scrape off with a blunt fingernail.

“I have several,” you said, easing down onto a cushion and unfolding your legs underneath the kotatsu blanket, the luxurious heat swaddling your legs and hips. You fought the urge to curl up underneath it entirely.

“How many of them involve getting your ass thrashed by me in Cipherstone?” Tenko retrieved the bag from the sunken fireplace before returning to the kotatsu, and he sat on your left, resting the bag between the two of you.

You took the thermos of decaf tea when he handed it to you. “Tenko, you’ve been playing that game for years, and I just began. Of course my ass is gonna be thrashed by—you know how the game works. You have all of this previous information about the game that I don’t have.”

Tenko scoffed and slid your teacup across the kotatsu’s surface.  “As if I could conceal any information from you. You’re too…eh.” He waved it off, shaking his head.

“I’m too what?” You unscrewed the thermos lid, and steam surged upwards, rising to caress the planes of your face.

“It’s been unfair of Aizawa-sensei to make me tail you,” said Tenko, leaning your way, all five fingers curled around his own teacup as he stretched across the tabletop. “I’d have a chance of success if it were anyone else.”

“I’ll give you that,” you said, pouring steaming, amber tea with slices of yuzu into Tenko’s cup, “You’re getting quite good at it, not that you were bad in the first place. But yeah, it’s a bit mean of him to test your tracking skills on me.” He’d never said to stop, so you poured until liquid almost overflowed at the rim.

He gasped at the heat but nudged his teacup back to his place at the table, unable to hold it in his palm anymore. “I think I would’ve preferred working with Hound Dog-sensei for that. He’s less detail-oriented. I could win, if it weren’t you.” Jutting out his lower lip, Tenko glared down at his tea for a moment before slumping in his seat to slurp at the tea without picking it up.

“Don’t feel bad about it. It was literally and actually my focus for hero work, profiling and detail shit and being aware of my surroundings. Information stuff. Infiltration stuff.” Setting the thermos on the far corner, you cupped your hands loosely around your teacup, appreciating the warmth and getting cosier by the minute.

Tenko was rooting through the bag for the other thermoses, full of sukiyaki for each of you. “It’s clear you’ve worked hard to hone your skills. Were you this talented as a student?”

You accepted the new thermos, fingers clenching tightly around it. “Uh. I think I may have been better back then. More focused. More passionate, anyway. I had to think about it really hard back then, make conscious decisions to notice things, and now I think I do it instinctively. I think I’m slipping because of that.”

“Hm,” said Tenko, tongue rubbing over his teeth behind closed lips, and he opened his mouth to say something but shut it, instead twisting off the cap to his soup thermos. He took the first sip of sukiyaki broth and—and was absolutely beautiful (you couldn’t make sense of it beyond that; he was a mess of details that you couldn’t fit together into a larger picture that made any sense: white eyelashes light against his cheeks as they fluttered shut, face muscles relaxed, scars overlapping with laugh lines, cracked lips becoming moistened by the soup, both hands cupped around his thermos like a child, no strain to his posture, baggy hoodie swallowing him up, kotatsu blanket yanked up to his hips to cover his crossed legs, scar on the corner of his mouth delicately shifting with his baffled smirk when he caught you staring, a strange pink rising to the tips of his ears). “What?”

Uh. Hm. You pinched the bridge of your nose and then moved to rub your eyelids. “What were you going to say about me?” you asked, and you withdrew your hand from your face to raise the soup thermos to your lips, taking a mouthful of noodles and the sweet, salty broth.

Tenko shook his head. “I’m trying to avoid thoughts that fall back into my old habits.”

“Try me,” you said, holding his gaze when he met it, “I won’t tell.”

Weary, he broke eye contact, and he fixated on fishing out a certain slice of green onion. “We needed someone like you back then.”

Back then? When he—oh.

Back in the League.

Though you attempted to hide your grin by taking a sip of sukiyaki, you caught his eyes flicker to it. “You would’ve taken me? You would’ve let me in?”

“Would you have joined?” he shot back, a bit too quickly.

“No,” you said, rolling your shoulders and settling down farther underneath the kotatsu, “Never. But since you shared something you shouldn’t’ve, I’ll do the same.” You set your thermos down to rub your eyes again—God, you couldn’t look at him for too long, lest your intrusive thoughts hand you your ass. “I thought about it. About joining you.”

You dragged your hand down your face, peeking between your fingers at a muted clink. Tenko was staring at you, something fucking unreadable in his scrounched eyes, and both hands lay five-fingered and flat on the kotatsu, steam from his open thermos fluffing up hair on one side of his head. “You’re not serious. You wouldn’t have.”

“Not in the way you think,” you said, tilting your head back, “but I often thought, in the aftermath of the Paranormal Liberation Raid, what I could’ve done, if I’d known what I know now. And as the rest of the war was unfolding, I only wanted it more.”

Tenko blinked, slowly. “Tell me what you would’ve done.”

“Oh, you would’ve hated me, down to the dregs of my very soul,” you said, shifting to sit on your knees, “I would’ve started after your fight with Re-Destro, after the PLF was established. When you were letting allllllllll those heroes in, the sidekicks, the nobodies, anyone who seemed like they were with the cause. I would’ve infiltrated. Slipped in without notice. Hawks did, with the Commission, but I would’ve been going in as a free agent.”

“No one notices a U.A. student slide in between the masses. Re-Destro’s lackeys wouldn’t notice you at the door like I would. You get in,” Tenko said, taking his thermos in hand again but still engrossed in you, “What then?”

“There was a short period of time between the PLF establishment and your procedure, right? Around a month? That’s when I go. I worm my way into the good graces of some of the nine lieutenants—I’ve decided my pipeline would’ve been Geten to Toga to you. You’d just come out of an enormous battle, with Re-Destro and that city and Gigantomachia for a whole month. I heard you were bandaged up, on crutches, that you’d lost fingers that you regrew in that regeneration tank,” you said, eyes on his hands, one in a fist in his lap and the other around his thermos, five fingers pressing onto the grip but the pinkie finger hitched farther up than the rest, “That you’d given a speech and made your appearances regardless. That you’d pushed yourself to your limit and then broke yourself a little more. And you would’ve loathed me, because I would’ve come in, earned my way to your side, and I would’ve put my hand on your shoulder, slid it up your neck to cup your cheek to ask Aren’t you tired? Don’t you want to rest?” You smiled and huffed, shoving it down, and though his hard stare should’ve pinned you to your seat, you pushed on the corner of the kotatsu to edge yourself over to his side, a knee on his cushion. “I like to think that you’ve sighed, sulked a bit, reluctant to admit anything was wrong at all, because back then, you had no use for moonlight. But I would’ve made you look at me, taken you to a bed, made you lie down until your eyes fluttered shut and the tension swept through your body and left. And you would rest,” you said, finding yourself leaning over him very slightly, knees touching his, just enough so that he leant backwards just a fraction, “I would’ve made that month so soft for you. I would’ve taken care of you, when nobody was fucking paying attention to you in the way that they should’ve. I fucking—I wanted it.” You gripped the front of his hoodie, fist grasping more fabric than necessary to shake him. “I wanted it. I wanted to care for you. But I couldn’t. I didn’t know. And you were fucking alone, in an unfamiliar place, and it kills me to think about that.”

You ducked your head to wipe your watery eyes on your sleeve, taking a breath—and realising what you were doing. You loosened your grip, but before you could pull away, Tenko was cat-like quick to grab your sleeve—why won’t he touch you?

“I wouldn’t have accepted your help,” he said, quiet, controlled, holding you down with his eyes, hand shifting to curve under your sleeved wrist, signalling that you could escape at any time, “That was after the worst month of my life, fighting Machia, and I wouldn’t have accepted it. I had too much to do. I would’ve shaken you off.”

“No, you wouldn’t’ve.”

“I would’ve,” he said, a bare finger, featherlight, skimming over the tender, bare skin of the underside of your wrist (oh, wow), “I wouldn’t trust that easily in that short of a time. You’d have met me, and that’d be it. If you’d persisted, I would’ve ripped you to shreds and tossed you aside.”

“Tenko,” you said, both relief and tightness blooming from your wrist, “You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”

The hallway shoji slammed open, somehow rattling as it slid in its tracks and shook the walls, and you and Tenko scrambled apart, with you jolting backwards on your hands, grappling for your seat cushion, and Tenko banging his thermos on the kotatsu, hastily wrestling with keeping it upright as he flung his body to the side.

“Hey, fuck you, Touya,” Tenko spluttered out, elbowing himself upright as—as fucking Dabi strode inside, hands in the deep pockets of his black sweatpants. “You said you’d stay in the main house.”

“Don’t mind me,” said Touya, cool as you please, raising both of his hands in defence, “I had to ensure you’re not fucking in my bed.”

“What is—” Tenko clambered to his feet to cross to him, chirping with each stomp, and whisper-shouting once he’d corralled Touya into a far corner. “I said we’d hang out later today, Touya. You swore you’d stay inside and watch Naruto this afternoon.”

The polite thing to do would be to appear fascinated by the tea. You returned to your cushion and poured yourself another cup.

“Yeah, but I’ve been told I’ve got shit to do later. I’ve got to go to this fuckin’—fuckin’ family stuff. I don’t wanna get into it,” said Touya, at full volume, “and I wanted to check that your girl was real. Y’know, she looks nothing like someone who’d have GinzengTea as her username. Have you given it to her already?”

“Shut the fuck up. I was just about to do that, if you hadn’t interrupted, cockhead.”

“Cool,” he said, a bird-note as he shifted his weight, “I wanna see what she thinks.”

“Hell, no—”

“I helped pick ‘em out. Let me watch and have an ohagi, and I’ll leave,” said Touya, chirping towards you before he finished the sentence, and Tenko followed him, muttering under his breath.

Touya sat on the bare tatami next to you, joints cracking as he yanked the kotatsu blanket up his legs, shooting you a small salute and a concerningly charming smile. “Hey,” he said, tilting his head, eyes half-lidded, smile stretching to show more of his even, white teeth, “I’ve seen you before, yeah? When was the last time you laid eyes on me?”

Tenko pelted him in the chest with a plastic-wrapped ohagi, cutting off the ooze of charisma. “Show-off,” he said, nudging another sweetened rice ball your way.

You nodded but didn’t move to unwrap it, since you were still working on your sukiyaki. “I’m surprised you remember, Touya,” you said, the name feeling strange on your tongue, “It must’ve been years since I elbowed you in the tit.”

Eyes lighting the fuck up, you snapped towards Tenko when he laughed into his plastic wrap: still not loud, still not making any vocalisation with it, but releasing a heavy, sharp burst of air with a wide, open grin. He hunched over to hide more of it, using both hands to unwrap his ohagi—and in the moment he realised he’d been unwrapping it with only his pointer fingers and thumbs, he dropped the rest of his fingers onto the rice ball, still smirking to himself.

Biting your lip in your own smile, you turned back to Touya (you caught his moment of mild alarm at how thrilled you were when Tenko laughed—or maybe it was alarm at Tenko laughing at all—but Touya relaxed his eyebrows and shut his mouth the second you faced him again). “God, yeah, it must have been before that last battle that we’d met in a fight, and I’d gotten close enough to hit you, and…” You shook your head. “Actually, I don’t wanna talk about that stuff. It’s not who we are now.”

“That’s fine.” Touya nodded towards Tenko and took a bite of his ohagi. “Shimura, don’t you have something to give her?”

Shimura. That was his last name, you supposed, but wasn’t it odd that Tenko called Touya by his given name and that Touya called Tenko by his family name? Tenko didn’t make you call him Shimura. Well, you supposed that there’s only one Shimura now, and because of the number of Todorokis, it paid to be specific—

“Here.” Tenko set a flat box in front of you, flipping the buckle of his bag back over. “I was going to give it to you with more formality, but since this bastard showed up, I’m doing it like this.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, brow furrowed, you unpacked a pair of pale blue headphones, soft to the touch with a mesh headband so that your head wouldn’t ache.

“Noise-cancelling,” Tenko said, gabbling, frowning very slightly, “Rechargeable. There’s a detachable microphone so it can function as a headset. I wanted to do something good for you.” His eyes darted towards Touya, and they dropped to his ohagi’s bulging filling, seeping out onto the plastic wrap. “You need them, anyway. I’ve been sick of hearing you through those shitty earbuds; their sound is terrible, and when you said you’d lost your only pair—which I don’t fucking understand how you can lose those things, because they just fucking show up in my shit all the time, like a goddamn plague—I thought you needed something quality—just to make it easier on my end, obviously, so that I don’t have to tell you to yell into that shitty, built-in micropho—”

“Tenko,” you said, reaching over to place your tea-hot hand over the back of his, fingers curving with his along ohagi’s edge, “Thank you so much. I adore them. I’m really grateful that you would think of me.”

Tenko froze, the same as he had when you’d adjusted his scarf. Unable to look you in the eye, like a prey animal, stiff, shoulders tense, colour rushing up his neck to his face and ears again—but this time, he lifted his hand just a hair from his ohagi to press back into your palm, and the corner of his mouth twitched.

“Hoo, boy,” said Touya, startling the both of you when he slammed his hands on the kotatsu to push himself up, “I’ve had enough. I’ve had my little snack. I’m leaving.” Once on his feet, he stretched, pressing his hands to his lower back and arching it, grunting.

“Good fucking riddance, cocksucker,” said Tenko, rising and grabbing Touya by the elbow to haul him to the door.

“Yeah, yeah,” said Touya, dragging his feet, chirping slurred and confused by his movement, and when Tenko had him at the wall, trying to shove him out, Touya, smirking under your watch, whispered something to Tenko while forcing something into his palm. Touya ducked out as Tenko looked at what he’d accepted and, letting out a yelp, dusted whatever it was before he hurried back to the kotatsu.

(When you left the teahouse half an hour later, you discovered that he’d decayed only the wrapper and not the condom itself.)

***

“One moment, please. Nezu-sensei is in a meeting right now, but he’ll be out momentarily. Please take a number—yes, the ticket puncher when you first came in,” you said to yet another impatient and pissed client in the admin waiting room, packed to the gills with parents, press, vendors, potential sponsors, and, for some reason, Mt. Lady’s entire representative team. “By the door. If you’ll take a seat, we’ll be with you shortly.”

God, you could punt Nezu for this. Not that there was anything wrong with establishing a new, annual event for U.A.—a cherry blossom garden-set, competitive scavenger hunt coming up in the spring—but because of his casual comment that it would rise to the same importance as the Sports Festival, you were swamped with those eager to invest early. Unable to take a break, you had to work with your head bowed, desperately hoping none of these people recognised you and your failure, when all you wanted was to reply to Tenko’s messages on Cipherstone that morning.

Tenkopeito: You’ll like the next quest. You can pet a dog in it

Tenkopeito: Come over to my room this evening so that we can talk in person

Was he intending to speak with innuendo or with such sincerity that it cut right through you? Moreover, was he aware he was even doing it? Based on what you’ve observed, Tenko had no idea what he was doing to you, nor did he know how hard you were trying not to act on your attraction, though you weren’t even doing a great job of suppressing it.

It’s strange: Tenko evoked some strange, unnameable emotion in you like nothing else. You wanted to coddle him; you wanted to play stupid video games with him; you wanted to sweep his hair out of his eyes, and though you kept telling yourself that you didn’t, you wanted him to tell you how to touch yourself, how to touch him. You brushed it off. Another time. Perhaps never.

“Oh, hi!” Former pro-hero Ragdoll squealed your family name, making you jump in your seat. “It is you. I couldn’t tell from farther back in the line.” Fuck, Ragdoll would recognise you, since she and the rest of the Wild, Wild Pussycats trained Class A, and she specifically spent time with you on your tracking skills because of her Search quirk.

Don’t cause a scene. “Hello, Shiretoko,” you said, doing your best not to let your face be seen from over the reception desk’s overhang, “It’s good to see you. How can I help?”

When she beamed, she was as bright as ever. “Oh! The Pussycats want to offer our services for the scavenger hunt! We wanna get back into charity and civilian events now that we’re back from our mission for—but wait, you know all about that!” You didn’t. But her cheerful voice carried, and people were already turning towards Ragdoll, part of a hero team ranked in the top thirty. “I wanna hear more about what you’ve been up to! Since you left the hero business, no one’s known where you’ve been! Gosh, have you been behind this dreary old desk the whole time?” Ragdoll leant over the overhang, flicking at a loose strand of your hair. “I thought you were sent out on missions out of the country! Like, really important, top-secret stuff. It’s weird seeing you in an office, especially since I consider you a mini me. Why are you back at your alma mater? Did your agency not want you anymore?”

She wasn’t meaning to be cruel. Her loud, blunt sincerity, though, drew the attention of onlookers, and their flashes of recognition, subsequent judgment, and turning away made your chest tight. “I needed a break. That’s all.”

A thin, blonde woman in a burgundy overcoat leaning against the wall immediately next to the reception had been evaluating you, scanning you from top to bottom during the exchange. She didn’t bother hiding her curiosity, and when you shakily handled the rest of the conversation with Ragdoll, she turned to the short, softly featured man beside her. “You know her?” She hadn’t even tried to quiet her voice; it jolted you from Ragdoll, but you steeled yourself and continued printing off a schedule for her—and from the depths of your brain came the woman’s identity: Uwabami, the snake hero, one who usually flaunted her celebrity status but currently dressed down, without her hair snakes (a rattlesnake, a yellow king cobra, and a Japanese rat snake, which—shut up! You don’t need this information right now! Can you be fucking sane, please?).

Her sidekick—no, an intern, a student at U.A., some fuckin’ twink in the year below you, name escaping you at the moment—had some iota of tact when he looked you over, slanting his body away, as if he weren’t staring. “Yes,” he said, trying not to let you hear, “She’s my former senpai and nothing more to me. We didn’t run in the same circles. She’s the one who made that rescue a few months back, the one that got a lot of online backlash.”

“No, seriously,” Ragdoll was saying, “Why are you back at U.A.? Don’t you have somewhere else to go?”

“My—” People behind Ragdoll in line were listening. Trying not to show it. Your throat ran dry, and you couldn’t think of a lie or a pleasant half-truth. “My flat was compromised. My address was leaked, and eventually, people were—look, Shiretoko,” you said, forcing the words out of your mouth, “I really don’t want to talk about this. Here’s the printed schedule. I’ll talk to you later.”

You slid the paper across the counter, and she took it, waving goodbye and still beaming.

“Is this what happens when a hero career doesn’t work out? They just shove you back where someone will take you? At any old office desk?” that fucking twink was asking Uwabami, “I can’t—it honestly scares me to think I could lose myself and be misplaced like that. It’s wasting talent, don’t you think?”

“How can I help you?” you asked the next person in line through gritted teeth.

When Uwabami lowered her sunglasses to glance over them, you inhaled sharply and swung your swivel chair so that you wouldn’t see her. “I don’t know about that. Maybe this dreadful administration office is where she’s meant to be.”

Biting his lip, he shifted his jaw and crossed his arms, slumping against the wall. “You’ll always have a place for me, right, Uwabami? I don’t want this to happen to me.”

“Yes, I can print you out a copy of the same schedule. If you’ll allow me a moment to print.”

“Of course, Kakeru,” Uwabami said, ignorant of how you were gripping a pencil so tightly that it could snap any second, “You’ll never be left behind.” But then she fucking stared you down, deliberately holding eye contact while you were at the printer, and she said, “You’ll never need a place to hide. I’ll make sure you don’t fail.”

“Hey, how about you shut up?” you hissed, ripping the printer-warm schedule from the tray and storming back to your current client to shove it into their hands. “Aren’t Japanese rat snakes supposed to be in hibernation this time of year, anyway?”

***

Someone in Mt. Lady’s group recorded it. Someone posted it.

wizardjenkins11: jesus christ who knew u.a. had its own island of misfit toys

emotionalsupportdynamightsweat: nice to see that she kept her snark, but what is she doing back at school?? don’t heroes have some sort of paperwork component to their work. why isn’t she still at an agency

blood-is-thiccer: lol ua’s the only one who’d take the bitch. she’s being rude as hell to an actual pro hero. lameass quirk anyway and ass flat as hell lmao she fucken deserved that guy lighting her mailbox on fire

LynchianTiddies: You’re encouraging domestic terrorism???

blood-is-thiccer: that’s not domestic terrorism

LynchianTiddies: Then what, pray fucking tell, is it??

blood-is-thiccer: wikipedia.org/wiki/Vandalism

XylemPhloemBuckaroo: no but I get what that guy was saying about wasting talent tho. Out of everyone in that class a, she’s the only one not topping the fucking hero charts rn. She’s the only one who’s left hero work. What makes her weaker than the rest of her classmates? What happened to her to make her like this?

koiboi69: wouldn’t you quit if people were camping outside your house/work/grocerystore? And also FUCK, man, there’s no fucking need to say she’s fucking weak. that’s kicking her while she’s down

XylemPhloemBuckaroo: I’m not kicking her while she’s down. I’m stating facts and asking reasonable questions.

koiboi69: bro wouldn’t YOU feel down if you’d didn’t have a home to go back to??? going back to u.a. is like admitting defeat, like you couldn’t handle it on your own and need protection

mawatadaddysgorl: i love seeing updates on her bc it makes me feel so good about what i’m doing with my life

***

Uraraka and Shinsou texted you but couldn’t call, let alone come from across town. Aizawa was AWOL, and Dango was hiding under your bed, so you, blotchy-faced and damp, were crumpled on the floor outside of room 310, eating vending machine bullshit and waiting for Tenko to return home.

Exactly all the insecurities you’d been stuffing down for months and months, brought out to air in front of everyone. Instead of doomscrolling, you locked your phone and slid it across the hallway carpet, burying your face in your hands and stomach lurching to the thought that you might soon be plastered everywhere in sight, again. Another round of intensive laying low loomed on the horizon, especially now that your location was made public. Your little secretary job was good enough, and relocating elsewhere on campus would lead to more job training, which would be a bitch.

Where was Tenko? You needed him here to say something irreverent and vindictive. Something unhinged. Or you needed him to hold you, pull you into his lap, and bitch about the whole thing while watching a movie. Tenko had messaged you to come by after work, so why wasn’t he…?

The staircase door hissed open, Tenko pushing it with his back, reusable grocery bags on his arms, and—and wearing a cape? Who the fuck wears a cape casu—oh shit he’s in his hero costume.

You’d heard that he had one, designed by the same company that’d made Midoriya’s and Shouto’s, and the similarities were clear: a boxy sort of design due to thick fabric that still somehow hugged his chest, a minimalist utility belt, and sturdy, knee-capping boots, positively flaming scarlet in contrast to the dark greys of the rest of his jumpsuit. The most obvious connection with another hero, though, made your chest throb: his cloak fastened with the same clasp his grandmother’s had. His dust-blocking respirator lay around his neck for the moment, but what was most embarrassing for you was how your brain fucking wheezed like a boiling kettle at his bare arms, biceps bulging, every fucking inch of skin down to his fingertips completely on display like a goddamn slut.

Whore behaviour. Whore behaviour! You had to duck your head when he squatted next to you, because oh, now you could see the stretch marks on his upper arms, because he’d gotten large way too quickly to be healthy, and smell his fading Old Spice and sweat from being out on what must have been an emergency call, and he was setting his grocery bags aside, reaching out to graze your shoulder, and wow, he’d been complaining about how he didn’t have abs yet despite working out five days a week now that his stamina had increased, but that fabric clung to his lower abdomen, looking very, very flat.

Initially pinching the fabric of your sweater, he shifted his jaw and laid his hand on your shoulder. “Who am I dusting?”

“God, Tenko,” you said, trying to look anywhere but his arms, or his abdomen, or his fucking lips, but he was leaning so much over you that he occupied most of your line of vision, and the only way to avoid seeing anything besides wisps of white hair was to gaze at the popcorned ceiling. “You’re not supposed to do that anymore.”

“Oh, yeah? Who am I dusting?” He squeezed your shoulder, stretching his thumb out to rub at your collarbone.

“Unless you can dust everyone in the country, I don’t think decay will help.”

Tenko clicked his tongue. “I have been explicitly told not to do that,” he said, shifting to sit on his knees, “I have—” He dug into a grocery bag for a moment. “—this for you. You like this shit, right?” Tenko pressed a bottle of pink lemonade into your hands.

“Fucking. Fuck. I do,” you said, passing the condensation-coated bottle from one hand to another, chest tightening, blinking to keep the water levels low, “Thank you. You didn’t have to get me this.”

“I know that,” he said with a dismissive wave, and he paused, fists in his lap. “Would it help if I gave you a hug?”

(What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the—)

“Yeah,” you said calmly, like a calm person, and when Tenko opened his (muscular) arms, you crawled into them, wrapping your own around his back to rest between his shoulder blades. You rested your chin in a fold of his cape, cheek pressing against the side of his respirator, and you frowned as his embrace tightened, pulling you closer in a sloppy, unpractised sort of way, grounded by the steady rise and fall of his very solid chest.

(This felt…affectionate. Romantic, even.

But Shigaraki Tomura didn’t do romance, and you don’t—you’re not—you wouldn’t dream of being conceited enough to read someone’s perhaps thoughtless actions as flirtation, because why would someone be flirting with you? No one did that in general, and being U.A.’s humiliating problem child exacerbated the fact.

Moreover, why would the man who was Shigaraki Tomura, in the middle of his rehabilitation and re-discovery of self, even in the microscopic chance that he had the mental energy to experience romantic feelings, aim that romantic impulse towards you? It would make more sense if he liked someone he’d known for a while, like Touya or Spinner or Toga, and if his romantic feelings leant towards recuperative trauma-bonding, wouldn’t it be more apt to feel for someone at his rehab? His therapist, maybe? He’d idolised Aizawa before he’d met him, and even that would make more sense than latching onto someone as late in the process as you.

He’d gotten flustered when you’d tied his scarf, and Touya’s played terrible wingman. But still. You couldn’t know. You can’t read into this, even though reading into things had been your job, because—because no one would want you. You’ll have to…You’ll have to gather more evidence. You couldn’t be certain.)

Tenko hummed, chin digging into your shoulder, blowing strands of your hair out of his face. “I calmed a kid down earlier by hugging her. Is this working for you?”

(…oh.)

You sniffled and hid your mouth in his cape so that he couldn’t catch your pout. “That’s—that’s good that a kid allowed you to comfort her. What happened?”

“Pipes broke in an old apartment building in the Takoba district. The third floor collapsed under the pressure, and it trapped families in part of the building. I was called out to dust the rubble trapping them,” Tenko said, tapping his fingers high on your back in a ripple, “and they had me dust some other walls to help start the repairs. It was cool. And this one little girl who’d gotten out before the rest of her family was really nervous, and she was sticking to me, holding onto my cape. I was telling her that everything was gonna be okay, like you’ve taught me, and when I asked how she was doing, this fuckin’ kid extended her arms to me. So, I fucking hugged her. Picked her up so she could see what was happening better. It was weird, but it felt good.” Tenko sighed. “I hate how it wants me to be kind more.”

And fuck, fuck, that’s the last straw to this horrible day, and you’re crying, silently, controlling your breathing to keep Tenko from finding out, because goddammit, this idiot bastard man was surprisingly easy to love.

You buried your face fully in his shoulder, hoping he couldn’t feel any wetness through his costume, and you and Tenko sat in the quiet of the hallway for a minute, interrupted only by the A/C kicking in.

Tenko tried to part the two of you enough to look you in the face, but you doubled down, curling your fingers into the fabric of his jumpsuit and keeping your head bowed. Scoffing, he sat upright, making you follow his movements to stay hidden. “You gonna tell me what’s wrong yet?”

“Forget all that shit I’ve taught you,” you said, grumbling to his tits now that he’d changed positions, hating how stopped up you sounded already, “It doesn’t matter what you fucking do in the public’s eye, because there’s always gonna be someone who hates you. You can’t please everyone, so just fucking be yourself. That’s funnier, anyway.”

“Did you psychoanalyse some press member’s pathetic sex life, or something? Deduce an affair based on the way he knots his tie? Announce the state of his dick to the whole room because of the length of his pants?”

“Fuck off, Tenko. I’m not some pretentious-ass Sherlock Holmes bitch,” you said, pursing your lips and instinctively pulling back to glare at him—

And the moment you did, Tenko cupped your face in his hands, soft at the palm and strongly calloused along his fingers, keeping you facing towards him no matter how hard you tried to jerk away, struggling to stay upright. “You are crying.”

“No, I’m not,” you said, just as a falling tear touched his thumb. As you adjusted to his grip, your hands fell to his thighs, pressing against them in fists.

“Hm. Well, you don’t have to tell me,” he said, eyes on another tear trailing down the other cheek, “but you’re joining me to watch a movie with Eri. I got snacks on the way home.”

You sighed, taking in how big his hands were and how much of your face they encompassed, trying to memorise their feeling until they were snatched away forever. “I thought we were gonna start a new quest tonight. I was excited.”

Tenko balked and shifted into a sceptical grin. “You wanted to play Ciperstone tonight?” he asked, both thumbs rubbing your cheekbones and moving to swipe underneath your eyes.

You sighed again, shoulders heaving as Tenko released your face to flick tears off of his hand. “I didn’t want to be myself for a few hours.”

Tenko pushed on his knees to stand. “That’s actually related to what I originally wanted to talk to you about. Furthering the working-with-others mission,” he said, and he extended his hand to help you up. “What do you know about Dungeons and Dragons?”

***

“God fucking dammit!” Tenko slammed his palm to his forehead and leant back to balance on the kitchen chair’s back legs and then combed his fingers back through his hair, upsetting some strands from his ponytail. Groaning, he crooked his face your way, smushed his face against the chair back, and pointed towards his forehead, where a red splot was forming. “Hit me as hard as you can.”

“Being bludgeoned won’t change the fact that you rolled a three,” you said, nodding towards his d20, “I ignore his whining and continue to drain the fig tree to charge my spell.”

Behind the DM screen, Shinsou rolled his own dice, and once his eyebrows had shot up to his hairline, he turned to Midoriya. “I need you to roll two d12s and a d4.”

Tenko bolted upright, hastily sweeping his bangs out of his face. “Wait, what does Midoriya have to do with it? He’s across the fucking grove! He’s engaged in close-ranged combat.”

You turned away from Shinsou’s sly grin and towards Tenko, mouth nearly a straight line, yanking another cluster of grapes from the communal bowl, and shoving two grapes in his mouth. He pinched at his lower lip as he chewed, twisting and peeling at dead skin, frowning as he focused on his character sheet, scanning it for some sort of information he was forgetting and absentmindedly raising his knee to his chest, the heel of his foot propped on the seat of his chair (thank God his jeans were from Best Jeanist’s Moulded to Your Ass line: the denim strained with his muscles. Your eye twitched). In this particular morning, with the five of you squared off at Aizawa’s kitchen table, papers and dice strewn among grocery store bakery cinnamon rolls and coffee cups (Tenko’s was full of gatorade instead of coffee, much to his chagrin), as Tenko was throwing grapes into Touya’s mouth while Shinsou did math, the narwhal house slippers dangling off Tenko’s feet, it struck you that Shigaraki Tomura had become just some guy. One who went for walks to clear his head, who spent hours failing to do a kickflip on Present Mic’s skateboard, who used emoticons over emojis, who got nervous in fast food drive-throughs, who collected hero merch (of Aizawa fervently and Present Mic against his will), who was losing his sensitivity to foods like leeks and onions, a man who was growing more and more exquisitely mundane.

And goddamn, he’s clever and perceptive and patient and cheeky in a devastatingly attractive way, and he’s flustered easily, eager to do a thing correctly, and utterly, totally captivating in his endless discoveries of what it means to be alive.

You timed it so that the shudder and shock crossing his face could pass as response to Shinsou’s description of how Tenko’s enchanted crossbow bolt missed the Spirit Realm Necromancer entirely, instead sinking into the sacred Grand Oak and instantly shattering the tree as if it were glass, its elaborate root system holding up the floating grove splintering into thousands of tiny shards, the ground beneath your party’s feet crumbling at the slightest suggestion of the shifting of weight. But really he curled in his lips with a furrowed brow and stuttering breath when you reached underneath the table to graze the back of his hand, and when he forced himself to relax, shoulders slackening, frown fading, Tenko spread his fingers to cover more of his denim-clad thigh, which you took as a timid sort of consent. Biting the inside of your cheek, you eased your palm over the back of Tenko’s hand, lacing your fingers through his and going through the motions of reacting to Shinsou’s shattered earth. Neither of you looked at each other while Midoriya’s character suffered the Necromancer’s spell to increase gravity, each movement of Midoriya’s bulky, steel armour accelerating the fall of the floating grove. By the time each of you had had enough turns to land on solid ground, preserving little of the sacred grove but all surviving, Tenko finally squeezed your fingers back, curling his own to grip them more firmly, keeping your hand pinned to his thigh, steeling himself, sitting up straight, and proposing getting close enough to the Necromancer to drive a crossbow bolt directly into his skull.

Midoriya was already muttering to himself over the effectiveness of the action while Shinsou worked, and Touya irreverently flicked his dice at Tenko, chugging coffee with his other hand. “You plunge the bolt by hand into the Necromancer’s head,” said Shinsou, “but with your strength debuff still in effect, you only nick him.”

“I try stabbing it through his ear.”

“It goes through,” said Shinsou, nodding and running his hand back through his hair, which sprung back into place, “It doesn’t pierce the neocortex, so he can still summon another—“

“I stomp him to death with my hooves,” said Touya, picking at his teeth and running his tongue over the spot.

The rest of you turned to him slowly in various states of incredulity.

“You don’t have hooves, Touya,” you said, tilting your head at the same time Tenko rubbed his thumb over yours, prompting your breath to hitch and a strange warmth to travel through your body, making you feel dizzy.

Touya grimaced and reached for a cinnamon roll. “I take off my leather breeches and boots to reveal my hooves. I have been a satyr masquerading as a human this whole time.” He leant forward on his elbow, glaring at Shinsou and gesturing with his cinnamon roll. “I stomp him. To death. With my hooves.”

Tenko sneered, his teeth cutting into his lower lip, but he merely opened his mouth and closed it, poking his tongue into his cheek. “I suppose maiming a party member wouldn’t coincide with my character’s chaotic good alignment,” he said, heaving a huge sigh to—oh, that cunning rat bastard—to conceal how he flipped his hand over in yours to touch palms, weaving your fingers back together and squeezing again, planting them back on his upper leg, massaging between your knuckles with his thumb.

“What’d you just roll?”

“Nineteen,” said Touya, casting Shinsou a slice of his most charming smile.

Midoriya let out a little laugh as Shinsou bitterly plopped his head on his fist. “Fuck you, Touya. Congratulations. You clomp over to the Necromancer and stomp all over him. Stompy stomp stomp stompy stomp. It’s difficult to watch at the insane speed you’re going, so no one stops you from doing such a good job pounding him that he’s ground into dust. Bits of him drift away in the wind.”

Here Midoriya winced. “Weren’t we supposed to retrieve the soul crystal embedded in his gauntlet? We can’t get our reward from that Silver Age dragon rider if we don’t have it.”

“Correct,” said Shinsou, glancing down at his notes, “It has been stomped to smithereens. You can’t even make out what parts of the pile of dust were once flesh.”

Ready to bolt, Touya was getting up from the table and holding up his hands in defence, but before Midoriya could start a speech that would have been more apt for the number one hero to use on patrol rather than during a DND game, the door to Aizawa’s flat opened, and in he walked, covering his yawn with the back of his hand. He halted at the sight of the five of you around his kitchen table, taking in the scattered papers and remnants of breakfast before settling on your DM. “Shinsou,” Aizawa began, disappointment outweighing the exhaustion in his voice.

“You’re the only one with a table that could fit all of us,” Shinsou said, spinning in his chair to face him, “This dormitory doesn’t have a good common area like the student ones do. Would you really prefer us to—”

“We can find you a table; there’s plenty on campus.” Aizawa lifted his goggles over his head to set them on the counter. “Is this why Monoma kept slowing me down during patrol?”

“No,” you and Shinsou said, while Tenko said, “Yes.”

Aizawa actually smiled as he unwound his capture weapon from around his neck. “Look who’s the only one telling the truth.”

“Why would I lie to you, sensei?”

Touya smacked Tenko on the arm. “Suck-up.”

“You promise?” Tenko shot back, nose wrinkling with his grin.

“This coffee had better be amazing, because it’s the only thing keeping me from kicking you all out right now,” said Aizawa, rubbing a dry eye with the heel of his palm, other hand outstretched for someone to pass him a mug.

Tenko’s thumb bent inward to swipe the inside of your palm, a silent protest while he drank from his stupid little mug of gatorade, and when he noticed what was at the bottom, he flinched. It must have been Touya who’d put your dice in Tenko’s cup.

***

Following the video of you insulting Uwabami, you’re garnering an unnerving amount of attention again, but it’s clearly someone different than last time. Whoever your stalker(s) was this time around, they were careless and unsubtle—and this confidence to be careless left you jumping at the slightest sound when you were alone.

Furthermore, you legitimately couldn’t deduce your stalker’s motivations, because no clear message linked his actions. At first, you chalked it up to the dorm’s shitty dryer eating your bright blue thong, but when you couldn’t find your lip balm or trolley pass or eventually your favourite sweater, you concluded that something else was at play here, further cemented by more and more tiny things going missing—things that, if you were stalking someone, you would’ve selected as small enough not to miss.

But bizarrely, your stalker left shit of his own lying about. A phone charger appeared underneath your pillow; loose change and a travel pack of alcoholic wipes showed up in your bathroom sink. Hello Kitty band-aids, a hair clip that looked like one of Rumi’s ears, deep-moisturising hand cream, a tiny lizard keychain with a white hamburglar mask drawn on. You couldn’t wrap your head around it. What could your stalker be trying to say besides he could access your personal space with ease? Hoarding it all in the drawer with the GINSENG TEA X LUSTFUL BALLSACK hentai, you were struck with the notion that this may have been going on even before the video.

God, you missed when this school felt more like home instead of a holding cell, back when Shinsou and Uraraka and the rest were all still living together with you, when you could simply turn the corner to the common area to demand who took your laundry detergent and get an answer immediately (you also missed taking Aoyama’s bougie food, though you suspected that towards the end he was buying extra specifically for you). You sent an email to Aizawa about the potential break in security, and he promised to monitor the situation, though there was no evidence of physical entry.

Evidence. It’s been on your mind.

Sure, Tenko’s done stuff that could be read as romantic: how he plops your hand onto his head to demand you play with his hair, how he hovers whenever Touya stands too closely to you, how he gets upset on your behalf when people glare at you in public.

(Tenko grabbed your elbow, breaking your focus on the clothing rank. “We’re going.”

“But we haven’t found you a red coat yet.”

He lifted the hangers from your arm and slid them back onto the rack, despite belonging elsewhere. “Don’t care. I don’t like the way the cashier’s looking at you,” he said, jerking his head their direction, and when you tilted your head to glance at them over his shoulder, Tenko tapped your chin twice, guiding you to look back at him. “You shouldn’t have to be on guard when I’m with you.”)

If you were reading into it—and you were—Tenko was being so careful with talking about the pro-hero scene around you that it was almost as if he’d gotten a mission task from Aizawa to distract you from anything that might make you feel bad about yourself.

(“I hear you’re causing a lot of paperwork for my old man,” said Touya, pulling out another floor cushion from the storage space in the teahouse wall, “He hates that you’ve had to dust so many structures near his agency. He’s a decrepit creature of habit, and now that his commute is different, he’s—”

“Hey, Touya, tell us what flower bulbs you planted this winter,” Tenko said abruptly, clamping the lid on the pot hanging over the sunken fireplace, “Tell us what your garden’ll look like in spring.”

You shut your book, even though you’d just opened it. “Wait, are you saying that Touya is the one who keeps this garden? That’s—”

“You like it, sweetheart?” Touya dropped his cushion next to yours, ignoring the way Tenko was glaring daggers into his back. “Think it’s impressive?”

“Holy shit; I thought we were in the back of some professionally restored historical site the first time we came here,” you said, smiling at how Tenko’s petulant stomps to his seat chirruped, even when he scooted his own cushion towards yours (adorable; you’d think he didn’t like you giving attention to anyone else).

“Well,” said Touya, propping his hands on the kotatsu so that he could get a better view of Tenko, “With enormous pride and a huge erection, I’m pleased to announce that this garden is all my hard work.”

“Stop that,” barked Tenko, jabbing a finger towards Touya, “Stop bringing up your cock.”

“I could talk about yours, if you want. His monster cock is excruciatingly leaky and so shaped.”

Groaning, Tenko clonked his forehead on the kotatsu’s tabletop before Touya could say anything else, arm still outstretched. He peeked out from underneath his bangs towards you, tension leaving his body at your burst of laughter.)

He’s also taken your comment about silent admiration to heart. Over the discord call (through very comfortable headphones), you’d made a dumb joke about not being able to play for long, and he’d shut up immediately. When you’d confessed to lying and hoping you’d scared him, he’d replied seriously: “I want to protect my time with you. I don’t like it being taken away. I feel better when you’re with me.”

You’d frozen in the middle of weaving bowstrings while his character continued stringing them onto bows. You’d never have gotten that sort of remark at the beginning of your relationship. Tenko must genuinely be listening to you.

Anyway. You decided in the event that Tenko was collecting evidence, too, that you would leave him some.

The first time you’d been in his room had been for a specific purpose, which was to help him rub in his new facial scar moisturiser (not to take them away, or anything, because Tenko wanted to keep them, claiming he wouldn’t recognise himself in the mirror if he didn’t have his scars—and you thought they were devastatingly attractive, anyway—but just to keep them hydrated enough not to itch), but now you were here just to spend time in the same space. You were reading on his bed (oh, hohoho, his bed), and Tenko was drawing in his sketchbook on his couch by the window. With his mouth pinched in concentration, he squinted down at his paper, swiping away eraser shavings with his artist-gloved hand.

Drawing by natural light. Tenko was in room 310 because of its wide windows. It had been his one request when U.A. was placing him.

AFO had deliberately raised him in a bedroom without windows. You’d kill him if he weren’t already dead.

Thankfully, AFO’s influence was absent from Tenko’s dorm: Naruto sheets from Touya, an old Nintendo DS on his bedside table with Nintendogs in the cartridge slot, Present Mic’s skateboard propped against the coatrack that held only a black hoodie, unfolded but clean laundry in a basket next to a dresser with prescription bottles atop it, a mirror that served more as a bulletin board of Eraserhead merch than as a way to check his reflection, red shoes by the doorway, books borrowed from everyone from All Might to Shinsou to the ramen delivery guy strewn across the room, on shelves, his computer desk, his rug. The thing Tenko’d had to explain to you was a therapist-assigned painting hanging over his desk: he’d painted a murky, purple-blue, abstract sort of thing, and you were strangely touched when he’d explained it was Kurogiri (and now that you were looking, among his bulletin board of Eraserhead, a few drawings of Loud Cloud were mixed in).

There’s a lot of people in Tenko’s life who care about him now, and you’re happy to be one of them. Setting your book aside, you got up to sit next to him on the couch.

He paused when you sank into the cushion next to—well, no, you were basically sharing the same cushion, especially since he unfolded his legs from underneath him so that you could get closer. You scooted over so that your shoulders touched (scandalous) and looked over his drawings.

He’s drawing your DND characters. While his sketches aren’t exactly good, you can clearly tell who’s supposed to be whom, and they’re fun to look at, so that’s all that matters. At the centre is your character, Ginseng—you named it after your Cipherstone account because why not—in the process of spell-charging. Your character relies on the traditional ritual of tea ceremonies, from the growing of the tealeaves to serving it, summoning whatever tools you needed, like the table and dishware, and if an enemy got caught by the conventions of politeness of the tea ceremony, they were trapped in it until they’d drunk their teacup dry. Tenko had drawn her early in the spell-charging process, with branches of tealeaves sprouting from underneath her skin, with her harvesting them from her forearm. It’s rather flattering, the way her determined expression lit up her face.

Next to Ginseng was Tenko’s character, Peito, also lifted from his Cipherstone character. He was sitting on the same log as Ginseng in the middle of camp, backs touching while he cut feathers as the first step in the fletching process. His carved-willow quiver leant against his knee-high boot, red even in a fictional universe. Peito’s hands were bare, five fingers pressed against his knife and arrows.

Further back in the camp (really just towards the top of the paper, since Tenko wasn’t good at foreshortening yet), Midoriya’s character, Jackrabbit, was holding up two hangers, one with his steel and the other with sleek, black leather armour. A nice touch, really, since Midoriya had swopped Jackrabbit’s primary armour to the more lightweight leather since the shattered grove incident, and wow, you could even tell it was leather based on the pencil strokes.

Seated nearby, Touya’s character, Granddaddy Slapkins, roared with laughter at him. His shoes lay next to him, his hooves out. For some reason, he’s not holding his pet duck; he’s instead cradling what looks like your character’s wild shape, a cat with the same chocolate-point markings as your real cat (your character’s shapeshifted form was just Dango, but Tenko didn’t know that. He still didn’t know Dango existed, because cats were still illegal in the dorms, and Tenko, that little brown-nosing shit, would probably tell Aizawa about her. Cute how he’s only a suck-up to Aizawa, though).

Your favourite detail, though, was how his character was smiling. Unabashedly. As if it were a no-brainer, as if doing anything else made no sense at all.

With a stab of affection, you nuzzled into Tenko’s shoulder, resting your chin there while he sketched loops of chainmail onto Granddaddy Slapkins’s shirt, and a shiver racked through him.

“Oh, are you cold?” you asked, sitting back up and heading over towards the bed, “Let me get your blanket.”

“Wha—no, I—sure,” said Tenko, setting his pencil on his sketchbook and the whole thing on the arm of the couch, eyes half-lidded as you returned with his throw blanket.

And without thinking, you moved on impulse, as if all higher orders of cognition had checked out for the night, because you behaved like you did in your head whenever you thought about Tenko: casually, intimately, and domestically. You wrapped the blanket around yourself and knelt on the sofa before swinging a knee over his lap, and you snuggled into his chest, clutching his shirt and nosing at his neck.

Your eyes snapped open.

(What the fuck?

If this had been a planned attack, then it would’ve been a thing of brilliance: casual, seeming to meet a physical need [heating a chill] in the name of physical closeness. But you fucked it. This wasn’t planned, and thus you don’t have a way out of it without otherwise betraying your romantically-motivated interior.

Thank fuck he’s frozen up, too. But how do you get out of this? God, you really shouldn’t be teaching him how to navigate interpersonal relationships when you get yourself into shit like this.)

You swallowed thickly, pulse pounding in your ears.

“I need your advice.” Tenko’s chest barely rose when he took his first breath since you climbed onto his lap. “What would be the socially expected response to this?”

“Uh. That depends on if you’re into it or not,” you said, forcing yourself to sit back in his lap to give him some space, “If you dislike it, then it’s to get me to get off of you, and if you welcome it, then, uh. Anything else.”

Tenko unclenched his fists at his sides and—a pause, shifting his jaw—he let his hands rest at a barely-there touch on your hips, dragging them upwards to your waist, applying enough pressure there for you to feel all ten fingertips through your shirt. “Is this,” he said, wetting his lower lip, and he couldn’t continue, instead swallowing saliva.

Gathering your nerve, you wove your hand through his hair to scratch at his scalp in the way he’d liked when you’d played with his hair, and at the familiarity, Tenko huffed, shutting his eyes tightly and pressing his forehead to yours in a rush, almost knocking them together. He took another breath, heat washing over your face, and you slid your other up hand to cup his cheek.

Tenko shivered again, and he clamped his hand over yours to keep it there. “Are you sure this is what you mean to do?”

He seemed receptive enough to it, but you couldn’t be certain. “Yeah,” you said, “If I’m reading it right.”

“But it makes no sense. I’ve got to be reading it wrong,” Tenko was saying, frowning, “No one would willingly like me—”

“For fuck’s sake, Tenko—”

Practically slapping your other hand to his cheek, you kissed him, pulling him closer, one of his hands still over yours with the other now gripping your waist as if he’d never let you go. Tenko grunted into it, surging forward to keep his rough lips (sticky from his freshly applied pineapple-beeswax chapstick) seared to yours. You felt, more than heard, his miniscule whimper at the back of his throat when he opened his mouth, sliding his tongue into yours, and you could hardly keep kissing him for smiling. But he needed a breath before you did, so you broke it, sensing he wouldn’t do it out of wanting to keep you nearby.

Panting, Tenko tried and failed to push your hair behind your ear in an attempt to be suave. “Now, I perceived that as romantic.”

“It was romantic, you muppet,” you said, thumping his chest with the back of your hand.

“Good.” He cleared this throat. “Cool. Excellent,” he said, shifting underneath you (with difficulty, under the constricting denim of his Moulded to Your Ass jeans), “I want it to be, when it comes to you.”

“Thank God, I really want that, too,” you said, sighing, “but, like, I really don’t know if it’s ethical to pursue a romance this early into your recovery—”

“The fuck is wrong with you? I want it. I want you.” Frustrated, Tenko grabbed your hips in an iron grip and ground up into you, slowly, and that tight-ass denim let you feel precisely where in the drag of his hips his cock touched you, letting you feel the shift in pressure at his tip, down his shaft, to the first curve of his balls. “I thought I was alone. I thought no one else would ever be able to understand me, having fallen from what I was raised to be. Fallen,” he said, spitting, “Such a nasty word for what we’re actually doing: we’ve been reborn together. We get to build our lives back up together. We get another chance at it. I wanna spend mine with you.”

He strained his neck upwards to kiss you again, insistent, moving with confidence when he took your lower lip into his mouth but only nibbling on it once, despite being posed to bite down with vigour.

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about what anyone else thinks of you and what anyone else thinks of me. I—”

“That’s not true,” you said, your turn to catch your breath, “You care so much about what Aizawa-sensei—”

“You know what I mean,” he said, shaking his head, hair falling out of his loose ponytail, “You think of me as me, and that’s all that matters. If you’re really that fucking worried about me getting into a relationship too early, go talk to my therapist. She says you’re good for me. A good influence, anyway.”

“Holy shit,” you said, mostly in reaction to how Tenko started trailing frantic, dry kisses down your neck, and, realising you should probably be doing something back, you rolled your hips, feeling awfully warm under the blanket.

He bucked back up into you, more out of desperation to keep you close over a need for friction but still giving you a taste of what it would be like to have him thrusting into you. “Fuck,” he said, almost grumbling, “I’d say fuck being ethical about it, because I’ve wanted you for a long time. I got hard when you shook me by the shoulders outside of that ice cream shop; I thought my soul was gonna leave my body when you adjusted my scarf. Hell, I—” He cut himself off, grinning in a way that, back before you knew him, you might have described as maniacal. “I wanted you back during the war. I saw you fucking elbow Touya during that battle, and the way you made him crumple to the ground was so fucking sexy. And you recovered from when he swiped at you so easily; you slipped around his attacks like it was fucking second nature. I thought it’d be cool to have you by my side, having you—” He realised what he was saying, and he relaxed, smile fading into a curious, pensive sort of look while he brought his thumb to your kiss-swollen lips. “And now I get to.”

You kissed the pad of his thumb, blinking slowly.

“So. Yeah,” he said, dropping his hand to your shoulder as he broke eye contact, a little red, “I think it’d be cool to be with you, even if we have to be careful.”

“That’s the thing, Tenko,” you said, biting the inside of your cheek as you gathered your thoughts, “I’m scared, because while I know that we should, because that’d be safe, I don’t want to be careful. Since I’ve quit being a hero, every single thing about how I’ve been living has left me feeling empty and alone, because it’s like I’m wandering through limbo. Everything screams that whatever I’m doing now is temporary, that it’ll pass, that I don’t truly belong in this situation, because I’ll find what I’m supposed to be doing later and my real home is somewhere down the line, but—fuck.” You rubbed your eye with your fist. “You, Tenko. You don’t feel temporary. You feel forever.”

Underneath you, Tenko stretched to pop a crick in his back, and he tilted his head to lie on the back of the couch. His ponytail had come loose, and his hair splayed against the fabric as he stared at you, one hand idly rubbing at your waist.

“Well. You’ve got to belong somewhere,” he said eventually, and he tapped all five fingers onto your thigh. “It could be with me.”

***

Dango was missing.

Incredible how the best evening of your life preceded the worst day you’ve had in years. You called out of work and spent hours scouring the dorm and then campus. A gruelling, miserable sort of day, anyway, grey and rainy and cold, and the campus was swarmed with people setting up for the scavenger hunt event later this month, populating the area with non-U.A. personnel and construction. Your cat was out in that mess, and you didn’t even know where to search first. It’s loud, scary, and wet, so Dango would most likely be hiding and not come when she’s called.

Had Dango escaped your flat? Had your stalker stolen her? Had she been confiscated by U.A.?

You couldn’t call any faculty for help; they’d get onto you for having an illegal cat on campus—and Hound Dog, the one who’d be the most help, might just scare her to death. Too early in the morning to call any of your friends, and you doubted they’d alter their busy schedules to help you out of a situation you should be able to fix yourself. But damn it, how come your own tracking skills only worked on people?

You shook yourself, coming out of your spiral the best you could, and you were close to hyperventilating. You sat down on a curb.

You found yourself calling Tenko, despite it being too early in the day for him to be out of training, filling with dread about never seeing your cat again and having to clear out her stuff from your room. Pulling your soaked jacket closer, you wiped at your nose and waited at the dial tone.

“Hey, I thought you couldn’t call during work. Miss me that much?”

The second you heard his strangely chipper voice, you started crying into the speaker.

He inhaled sharply, tone shifting. “Tell me who the fuck I’m stomping to death with my hooves.”

Ducking your head, you managed a smile but continued to fucking sob. “You don’t—don’t have to kill anyone, Ten—Tenko. I’ve f—fucked up.”

“What’s wrong? Where are you?”

“I’m on cam—campus,” you said, unable to speak for a full sentence without having to cut yourself off to keep bawling, ugly and loud and getting snottier by the minute, “It’s my fucking fault that I haven’t been ta—taking my stupid sta—stalker seriously, and I should’ve reported it, but—but I—goddammit!” The rain picked up again, coming down in rapid, fat drops, and, shielding your eyes, you rubbed your phone screen on your sleeve, not that it did much. “Sor—sorry. Rain got heavier.”

“Where on campus?”

“No, Te—Tenko, I’ll get up. I’m coming to you,” you said, sniffling and pushing on your knees to stand, wet and hungry and ready to crawl into your sock drawer to sleep for days. “I—I’m just so fucking pissed at myself, because my cat is fucking lost, and I could’ve sto—stopped it if I hadn’t been so secreti—tive.” Hands shaking, you yanked your soaked hood over your head and trudged towards your dormitory, and you kicked gravel, rocks scattering over the path, before losing your footing on it and nearly falling. Fuck this.

“You have a cat,” said Tenko, losing his fervent. “What’s it look like?”

“Beautiful.”

“I need more than that.”

“She fucking—I based Ginseng’s cat form on her, okay? She’s this enormously fluffy thing, mostly whitish with a brown face and legs, and it makes her look like she’s wearing a mask and thigh-high socks like God’s sluttiest little jester,” you said, knocking on your dorm’s mailboxes for luck out of habit as you passed them, “And you can’t tell Aizawa-sensei about her, because if she’s taken away the moment I find her, then I—”

“I have her,” said Tenko, “She’s in my dorm with me.”

You ran the rest of the way to his room, panting and absolutely disgusting by the time you got there, and when Tenko opened his door, there was Dango, loafing on the back of the couch and watching raindrops race down the window.

“What the fuck,” you said, dropping your wet coat and toeing off your shoes, “How the hell did she get in here?”

Tenko shrugged and hung your coat next to his hoodie. “Can she open locked doors?”

“I hope to fuck she can’t,” you said, and you rounded the couch to wrap your arms around that dear little loaf, and Dango jumped off the couch to crawl underneath it before you could fully hug her. “Oh, good. She’s fine. Acting like normal.” You sat on the couch’s arm, adrenaline evaporating to render you boneless.

“She was in my room when I came back from training. We ended early today, since Aizawa-sensei has something.” Tenko stooped to yank two bottles of gatorade from their plastic rings and headed towards the sofa to offer one to you. “She didn’t seem upset or hurt. She’s been sitting there, napping on and off.”

You accepted it and twisted off the cap. “So, who put my cat in your room?”

“Why would anyone do that?”

“I don’t know,” you said, taking a shallow sip, careful not to overwhelm your agitated stomach, “They’d have to know about Dango in the first place, and I suppose my stalker would, since they’ve theoretically been breaking into my room.”

Tenko paused mid-sip, and he hastened to swallow. “Someone’s been breaking into your room?”

“Yeah,” you said, easing down the arm of the couch and onto its cushions, “I think. There’s no physical sign of entry, but my shit keeps going missing, and stuff that’s not mine keeps showing up. Let me tell you, I need some of that shit they’ve stolen; it’s hard to replace—”

Tenko touched your lips with three of his fingertips to quiet you, and he gestured for you to stay put while he scrambled over to his closet, where he stood on his toes to retrieve a wicker basket from the top shelf. He dropped the thing into your lap. “Are any of these yours?”

All of it was, missing things you blamed on everything from Dango to your stalker to your own forgetfulness: your favourite sweater, your trolley pass, lip balm, your shitty earbuds, your good pantyhose, your planner, your d10, and, among many smaller things, even that bright blue thong you’d lost in the wash (Well. It’s better to find your thong with your new boyfriend over finding them returned to your dorm coated in your stalker’s cum, you supposed).

“I was losing my goddamn mind,” Tenko was saying, “Stuff kept showing up. I thought it was a test at first—”

“I don’t have a stalker,” you said, absentmindedly rubbing the fabric of your thong between your fingers, “Your shit has been—you read that GINSENG TEA X LUSTFUL BALLSACK shit? Tenko.”

“Oh, you have that?” Tenko scratched the back of his neck, but not in his self-harm way; it reminded you of Shinsou’s nervous habit more than anything. “Haven’t you read it? Isn’t that what you were naming your characters after?”

“Ah, ha, ha. Moving on. What is important, though, is why and how this is happening to us.”

“Yeah, I don’t…”

The two of you spitballed for a while, long enough for the both of you to finish your bottles of gatorade and for Tenko to start another, and neither of you came up with anything substantial.

“Hell with it,” said Tenko, standing to stretch, his movement disturbing Dango from her nap in his basket of clean laundry, “Let’s go ask Aizawa-sensei.”

Aizawa was not pleased when he discovered the both of you waiting in his kitchen, but he listened to the story, and when you were done, he stepped out of the room to make a phone call. When he came back, he looked even more exhausted than when he’d first come in.

“I’ve just gotten off the phone with Sakura Grove,” said Aizawa, wincing when his bones creaked as he sat in his chair, “Tenko, do you remember villain in-fighting within the PLF? In particular, I’m asking if you remember breathing in a pink dust cloud. It would’ve been in Deika City, in the month between your fight with Re-Destro and your body modification surgery. If our sources are accurate, you would’ve been with Touya.”

Tenko scrunched up his face. “Why would I have been—hm.” Frowning, he reached into the bag of popcorn you’d commandeered from Aizawa’s cupboards. “I know what you’re talking about. They were only letting me eat healthy stuff in the week before I went under. Touya was taking me to scrounge for something salty and shitty for me, because I couldn’t take it anymore. He started hitting on someone he thought was a waitress, and she—this is why I remember it—she compared the width of her hand to his thigh and said no thanks.”

“That’s Ito,” said Aizawa, sighing and crossing his arms, settling his chin into his capture weapon, “When did she use her quirk?”

“She shoved her hand on Touya’s face when he opened his stupid mouth again, and he passed out with swarming, pink particles floating around his head. She turned to me—and she must not have recognised Touya, but she knew me, because her face lit the fuck up. She never touched me, but I remember having to sneeze.”

“She never told you what her quirk did?”

“I woke back up in the PLF headquarters. I assumed whoever picked me up had killed her and that her death negated any effects.” He narrowed his eyes. “Why? What does it do?”

Aizawa let out a soft laugh, muffled through his capture weapon, and he jerked his head in your direction. “You tell him,” he said, snatching the bag of popcorn and heading towards his bedroom.

***

He’d been nervous about wearing a suit. They reminded him of AFO.

But you’d strayed away from dark colours and too much structure, so his light greyish-blue suit jacket stayed unbuttoned even as you leant across to the passenger seat to adjust his All Might tie for him (a Put Your Hands Up Radio tie had been offered, but Tenko had already closed his fist around the striped tie Midoriya would loan him). Part of his bangs had been pinned back to show off his annoyingly handsome face, especially in how his sharp, red eyes observed caught every movement of your terrible attempt to tie the tie based on the pictures Aizawa had sent you.

“We’re not gonna be late, are we?” Tenko drawled out, the corner of his mouth quirking upward, hand resting on the car ceiling as he angled his chest towards you.

“Shush; we are in the parking lot,” you said, looping the larger end. Or were you supposed to be looping the smaller one? “Besides, the world won’t end if we’re a few minutes late to my class’s annual reunion.”

A flimsy excuse for a party, one made because hero agencies needed some sort of named event as an excuse to dismiss your friends en masse. But it was spring again, and they were coming out of the winter blues, and they wanted to see you again, so, hey, why don’t we work something in around your schedule? If you can’t come to this date, then we’ll reschedule it until you can.

And, like. They knew. They knew Tenko was your soulmate. You suspected they all wanted to see what he was like now, too, because no one but Shinsou, Midoriya, and, apparently, Bakugou had known.

You undid the loose knot and tried again. “Are you nervous?”

“No,” he said, scrutinising the tacky balloons and streamers swaying in the night breeze outside of the otherwise intimidatingly elegant venue, “but those kids might be.”

“Those kids happen to be friends my age,” you said, “and I’m barely younger than you are. They know you’re coming. You’re fine.”

Tenko sucked in through his teeth, tapping the roof of the car one finger at a time. “The last time they saw me was as a thing. An object of destruction.”

“Well, they’ll definitely see you as a human person when I spill how you designed a unicorn DND character for Eri.” You pulled the fabric taut but kept it from lying closely to his neck (a boy didn’t like feeling constrained). “You know what? This tie is as good as it’s gonna get.”

He ducked his chin to examine its knot. “It’s shit.”

“It adds to your devil-may-care, reformed-bad-boy sort of charm,” you said, giving the tie a final smooth-down and poorly suppressing your smile when you felt his muscles through his shirt. “Mathematically, there are only 85 ways to tie a standard tie knot. I don’t believe we’ve reached any of them.”

“How do you know these things? You’re unbeliev—” Tenko jerked his face out of view of the window as Aoyama and Kouda, gesturing wildly, strode past the car and into the venue. “Listen,” he said, clearing his throat, “I know I don’t care and that you don’t care, but other people will. Your reputation is gonna plummet right into its grave if we’re out in the open together.”

You shook your head, letting your smile show. “So, I fucked part of a rescue job almost a year ago. So what. So I’m dating my soulmate. Am I supposed to do otherwise? Honestly, Tenko,” you said, curling loose strands of hair behind his ear, letting your fingers linger around his cheek and neck (he leant into the touch), “I don’t care. I would’ve chosen you even without the soulmate bond. You’re too endearing to pass by. You’re too…babygirl.”

Tenko had been guiding your hand to his mouth, and he snorted before it got there, warm air scattering in a short burst. “Don’t call me that,” he said, pressing his lips to the centre of your palm and waiting until you met his gaze to retract them.

A different warmth shot to your lower stomach, but you had to keep pressing, for the sake of the bit. “Oh, then what should I—darling? Honey? Pookie bear?”

He scoffed and nipped at your pinkie. “None of those are good.”

“Tenko.”

He breathed in, shoulders rising, eyes fluttering shut. Taking a moment to kiss the tiny bite mark on your finger. “Yeah,” he said, opening his eyes in a slow blink, catlike, “Feels good. Feels—like coming home.”

Beaming, you reached down to lace his fingers through yours. All five of them squeezed back. “Then let’s go.”

soulmate trope taglist: @bakugouspsycho, @pansexualproblemchild, @doonaandpjs, @sunsetevergreen, @the-coffee-is-on-fire, @liberace2, @ladymidnight77, @nonomesupposedto, @gooooomz, @kissmebakugou, @pachiibatt, @celestair, @tiredkittykat, @cheshireshiya, @90s-belladonna, @infjsnightmare

#bnha #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki/reader #shigaraki imagine #shigaraki fic #mha #shigaraki headcanons #shigaraki fanfiction #shigaraki fanfic #soulmates #soulmate au #soulmate #dash it all

[kimi240302]

Losing Game

A/N: Before you read this story, be aware I am from Germany and can't write a bit of English. That's why I'm sending this through an app that translates it for me.

A/N2.0: In this story, the characters are all a little older.

A/N3.0: After this part will come the epilogue, so please stay strong. Hopefully it will be worth it! Also, I have to thank you for all the notifications, as well as the great comments.  

Summary: Y/N Swan tries everything to keep her promise to stay away from Demetri Volturi. But can you stay away from the man fate bound you to?

Demetri Volturi x Female!Swan!reader

Part 3 of Daylight Masterlist 

Words: 2,6k

Main Post / Twilight Masterlist / Request list / Playlist 

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There's darkness in the distance From the way that I've been livin' But I know I can't resist it

- David Kushner 

"I still don't really understand why we're going to Volterra. It's just a small town in Tuscany. Why not go to France or......" "Mallorca!" Grinning, Y/N shook her head, knowing full well that Mick and Mara would start arguing again, as they had so often lately.

Tired, the young girl let herself sink more into the airplane seat, turning her head away from an annoyed groaning Mara, who mumbled to herself in a low voice, " I knew that shit would come from you." Mick, who had heard this, sat up straight in his seat, put his hands on Mara's seat, pulled himself up and slapped her, very gently, on the back of the head. Upset, the young girl turned around. "Are you out of your mind!" Mick rolled his eyes. "Don't be a drama queen. That was nothing more than a gentle pat, to the back of your head." Mara narrowed her eyes and slapped Mick against his forehead. Taken aback, the latter fell back in his seat. "Children, please. There are other people on this flight and our teacher is looking too!" Y/N looked at her two friends, amused. "He started it!" grumbled Mara. "You insulted me first!" "When are you two going to admit you're into each other, anyway?" The young Swan raised one of her eyebrows and looked back and forth between Mick and Mara in turn.

The two people in question first looked at each other, blushed, and then were looking anywhere but in each other's direction. Mara crossed her arms in front of her chest and scowled, turning her gaze to Y/N. "I don't take comments from someone who can't control their own love life." Still grinning to herself, Y/N watched as Mara put on her headphones and closed her eyes. After glancing back at Mick, she saw him looking out the plane window, lost in thought, and knew this school trip was going to be interesting.

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Lost in thought, Y/N turned her head to the window, where she looked at the clouds while putting on her headphones. Immediately, the young girl relaxed as the sounds of her favorite song poured from them. But even her music did not help to displace the lingering sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Her class teacher had heard that the somewhat smaller city of Volterra, in Italy, was one of the best cities when it came to art. Because no matter where you wandered or looked, the small town had its own story to tell, and it was in the form of art. So it was a done deal for her art fanatic of a teacher that her graduation trip would be to Volterra.

Y/N had to admit that what she had seen of the city, which was not much thanks to Bella, she really liked. But she didn't want to go where Demetri was and so the young girl hoped to get through her class trip in peace without any incidents and preferably without meeting any of the Volturi. Since her teacher hadn't gotten any more tickets for the castle tour, which was partly Y/N's fault, she could even play with that thought very hopefully.

But if Y/N was honest with herself, something deep inside her hoped to see Demetri again. Since their night together, the young girl had noticed him several times in the distance. However, each time the vampire had disappeared again just before she reached him. So Y/N could not even be one hundred percent sure whether Demetri had really been standing there or it had just been a fantasy of her mind.

Another thought that had come to her while thinking longer told her Demetri wanted to prove something to her in this form. The vampire wanted to show the young girl how much she missed him, how much she needed his closeness and his touch, and Y/N couldn't deny it. She missed him, more than she had ever thought possible and if Y/N could, she would tell him that he had won, that he could stop. But she was too stubborn to cave in and too loyal to break the last of her promise to Bella. Even though it was long gone, Y/N clung to the fact that Demetri was the one who always came to her, not she to him. Which, if you said it out loud, was complete bullshit, which is why Y/N never said it out loud.

Lost in thought, Y/N let her fingers run over the various books on the shelf in front of her. The young girl had been in Volterra for a day and had decided to isolate herself from the others. She couldn't explain it, but with each step she took on the streets of Volterra, an invisible sling seemed to tighten more and more around her neck. It felt wrong to be here and not to go to the castle and tell Demetri that she was in the same town as he was, right within his reach. The young girl had to literally force herself not to go up the stairs of the castle and run straight into the vampire's arms.

The only solution Y/N saw was to distract herself. She had hidden herself in a small library on the outskirts of the city to search through the shelves. Because in times when Y/N didn't know what to do, when reality became too serious for her and the problems too complicated, she found support and protection in the realities that her books created.

Smiling, Y/N stopped at an decorated spine, grabbed it, and pulled out the book. The light blue color of the book was faded and starting to fade in some places. Gently, Y/N's fingers slid over the cover of the book, looking fascinated at the black embroidery of rose vines. Carefully opening it, she skipped a few pages and began to read the prologue's ornate Italian script, which still shone in contrast to the yellowed page.

"I keep learning new things about you, la mia bella."  Startled, Y/N winced, dropping the book as she did so. "Demetri..." Breathed the young girl after she turned around. Smiling, the vampire looked at her, bent down and picked up the book from the floor. "Libraries, I have a feeling this is a scene we should both be familiar with."  He held the book out to Y/N, which she only looked at for a moment without taking it.

"What are you doing here?" Y/N asked in a trembling voice, immediately regretting her question. After all, Demetri lived in the city where she was a stranger, an intruder. Raising an eyebrow, he looked at her with amusement. "I live in this city. Probably the better question is, what are you doing here in Volterra and did you mean to tell me you were here?" She opened her mouth to answer him. But no sentence came out, so she closed it again.

"Y/N?" Demetri lowered the book and took a step toward her. Y/N raised both hands and shook her head, taking several steps backwards. "I have to... my class is probably looking for me already." With that, she turned on her heels and fled the small place.

However, Y/N did not get far. Demetri, who had stood rooted to the spot in the store for a moment, had caught himself again, overtook her and pushed her into a hidden alley, where he pressed her against the wall. His eyes were almost shining and his anger was written all over his face, making Y/N sink slightly into herself, as far as Demetri's firm grip on both of her shoulders would allow.

"When are you going to stop running away from me! When will you stop trying to hide what we both know you feel the same way I do!" Frightened, the young girl winced and whimpered. "Demetri..." Angrily, he applied a little more pressure to her arms, which Y/N answered with a face contorted in pain. "You're hurting me and scaring me." Her voice barely noticeable and if Demetri wasn't a vampire, he wouldn't have heard her. Disappointed in himself, he let go of her, almost as if he had burned himself on her skin. Demetri backed away a few steps as he ran his hands through his hair in frustration, cursing softly in ancient Greek.

The vampire turned to his mate, just dropped his hands from his hair to his sides and looked at her sadly. He felt powerless and defeated for the first time in his immortal life. "I just..." his voice broke off as he searched for the right words. "I just want to know if I should give up Y/N. I just want to know if I should let you go." Briefly, he looked at the ground, took an unnecessary breath that helped him get his nerves under control, and took the retreating steps forward again. Y/N stood, unable to move, still leaning against the wall. She had tears in her eyes that threatened to stream down her face any second.

Y/N had only ever thought about how she was feeling in this situation and never what Demetri was going through with this whole thing. Seeing him like this now and knowing that it was her fault broke her heart.

Carefully Demetri embraced the face of the woman he loves and automatically put his forehead against hers. "Tell me, is it worth continuing to fight or should I release you and disappear from your life?" Y/N clasped both of Demetri's wrists with her hands to find support. Her tears flowed, as silent cries of despair down her cheeks.

"I promised my sister." Her grip on both wrists tightened as her voice trembled more and more.

"What exactly Y/N. Not to be free? Not being able to make your own decisions, not being able to love, not being able to be happy? She's denying you what she has with Edward because it would be with me. Because it is me who is the villain from her point of view and she knows that you are loyal to her, which means you would never break your promise, no matter how unhappy that makes you. That's the power your sister has over you."

Demetri released his forehead from hers and looked into her eyes again. Gently, his fingers began to brush the tears from Y/N's cheeks. "The Volturi could be so much to you Y/N. Your friends, your allies, your supports, or even your family." He paused, making Y/N look closely into his eyes so she understood how much truth there was in his words. "I could be so much more. Your confidant, your lover, your husband, your forever. You just have to let it happen, you have to let your love for me happen." Y/N's tears grew more. "What if that's what scares me." "Everyone is afraid of what they don't know. Y/N you don't know what it feels like to be loved or what it's like to exist outside of your sister's shadow because you've lived in just that for too long."

Y/N broke eye contact with Demetri, loosened her hands and lowered her gaze. She didn't know what to say, she was confused and conflicted with her inner self at the same time. If she left with Demetri now, she would never see her family in Forks again. If she chose Bella again, she might lose Demetri forever.

For Demetri, however, her silence and distant behavior, was answer enough. In despair, the vampire closed his eyes and looked away. As he did so, he too removed his hands from her face. Y/N's gaze went up as she felt a breeze.

Demetri was gone.

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For a few moments, Y/N stared silently at the spot where Demetri had just been standing. Her tears began to become threefold as her mind understood what had just happened. The young girl dropped her face into her hands and could no longer avoid her bitter sobs. As she tried to get her breathing under control, her legs gave out from under her. Slowly, Y/N slid down the wall behind her. Once on the ground, she pulled her legs to her chest to regain some balance, but the tears only increased. The young girl became aware that she had lost the man who meant more to her than anything else.

She was aware that she had no one to blame but herself. Demetri had given her more than one chance to go with him, to be with him, and yet her loyalty to her sister, to whom she really meant nothing, had destroyed everything.

The young girl didn't know how long she had been leaning against the wall crying, but when she arrived in her room she knew it must have been a very long time. Mara and Mick were both sitting in the room the two friends shared, taking turns trying to reach Y/N on her cell phone. When they saw their friend, they both jumped up from their seats and approached her.

"Where were you Y/N?!" Mick placed both hands on her shoulders, forcing Y/N to look up at him. "We were worried about you you can't..." Mara who was standing behind Mick and was about to scold her best friend, dropped silent.

Y/N wrapped her arms around Mick's middle and began to cry again bitterly. "I lost him." She cried into her friend's chest. Startled, he hugged her back tightly and glanced over at Mara. The latter looked as startled as he was and pointed to the bed. Mick nodded, unfastening his and Y/N's arms to lift her up and lay her in the bed. There she immediately buried her face in the pillow while her hands clawed into the covers. Mara laid down on Y/N's right and pulled her into the middle, which Mick saw as an invitation to lie down on Y/N's left.

They both looked at each other and silently made the agreement to ask tomorrow what had happened and what exactly Y/N meant. Now they both just took her in their arms, turned out the lights and were silently there for their best friend.

With an aching head, Y/N was the first of the three friends to wake up in the early morning hours. Carefully, Y/N released herself from the arms of her friends and stood up. Smiling, she watched as Mick automatically reached for Mara and pulled her close. Which she returned with a hug and burying her face against his chest.

Quietly, the young girl tiptoed to the balcony door, which she carefully opened to step out into the fresh air. Outside, she sat down in the armchair that was identical to those on every other balcony in the hotel. With her eyes closed, she stretched her face toward the rising sun and breathed in the fresh air.

Y/N opened her eyes, however, startled when a shadow and a breeze flashed past her. Confused, she stood up and walked to the railing of the balcony, only to feel the breeze behind her again. Immediately she wheeled around and faltered. With hesitant steps she walked towards the table next to the armchair where she had been sitting a moment ago and grabbed the book where she was sure this had not been lying there a moment ago.

With a sigh, Y/N settled back into the chair as she recognized the light blue cover, with the rose vines embroidered on it. However, this one was not faded and still well intact. Y/N opened the book cover and faltered. With trembling hands, she took the note that had been placed there and read through it.

"To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all"

Confused, Y/N looked back at the book and closed her eyes sadly, for she had the uneasy feeling she was holding her goodbye gift in that moment.

This book is the property of Demetri Volturi, it was written in ink.

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@twilightlover2007 @ssnapsaurus @xxx-wounded-angel-xxx 

@ms-sasa @elissanatok @helen06dreamer @animequeen454​

@svtbpbts

#demetri volturi imagine #twilight x reader #demetri x reader #demetri volturi x reader #demetri volturi x y/n #demetri volturi #the volturi #volturi x reader #the volturi x reader #the volturi guard #Volturi Guard #twilight fanfiction #twilight masterlist #twilight imagine #twilight

[chosowarmer]

Choso x Tailor!Reader [18+]

transgender!man choso [non-op] ; transgender!male reader ; semi-public sex ; nipple play ; eating out ; fingering ; 3.7k wc

After getting lost in the boutique, Choso is a bit relieved when you come and introduce yourself as a guide of sorts for the place. After helping him pick out clothes and complimenting him, he can't help but wonder what the odd feeling in his chest was and why he wanted to meet you again so bad.

A/N: took a break from a nanami fic to write about choso !! i love him so bad

“Agh…. Yuji…”

Choso watched as Yuji waddled off with his friends, leaving his older brother behind. He had never been to this boutique before and it was pretty vast. Every aisle looked the same to him, and it felt impossible to navigate.

Still holding the shopping basket Yuji had handed him, Choso turned his attention back to the line of hung clothes in front of him. Maybe he could try to keep looking himself and by the time he was done, his little brother would be back to help him out. 

With a huff, he sifted through the garments, thinking of which ones may be a good fit for him. Although, most of what he found didn’t appeal to him at all, and the ones that did weren’t even a proper size for him. 

After pulling out another shirt with a weird graphic on it, he clicks his tongue, clearly annoyed. With his little brother still not back yet he takes to wandering the aisles, hoping to find his way out. Every sign seemed to only direct him towards another clothing section for him to explore which was mildly nice to pick out things he liked, he would’ve much preferred to be out of here already. After walking past the shoes department for what felt like the third time in a row and growing more frustrated, he jumped in surprise at hearing a sudden voice behind him. 

“Hi there, sir, is there anything I can help you with today?” 

You had been watching him walking back and forth, muttering something under his breath like he was lost or something. Most other days, you’d leave customers like that alone unless they came to bother you directly, but you were having a good day today and he was pretty cute; might as well get a chance away from folding clothes to talk to an attractive guy. 

He eyed you wearily, holding the clothes in his arms closer to him. You tilted your head, a polite smile still on your face but now slightly confused from this guy’s silence. Maybe you should’ve kept to folding and putting clothes away and let him stay lost. 

You’re ready to excuse yourself when he finally says something.

“Who are you?”

Ah? That’s what had him so quiet? You bite your tongue, still keeping to your polite mannerisms lest your boss reprimand you. You wave a hand in front of your name tag that sat right above the boutique’s logo in plain sight.

“Oh, I’m so sorry about that, sir, I should’ve introduced myself first,” Even if it was obvious you worked there, “I’m Y/n, I'm the tailor's apprentice here. I couldn’t help but notice you walking around, and thought to stop and ask if you needed any assistance.”

He squints at you, the mark across his face slightly creasing. It’d be more endearing if this conversation were going the way you had wanted it to. 

“You were watching me?”

Okay, yeah, now you were really regretting not minding your own business.

“No, no, sir, I’m sorry if it seemed like that! As an employee here, I’m just trained to spot any lost customers and guide them. You are lost, aren’t you?”

Thankfully for you, this seems to alleviate some of the concerns he had about you as he nods, scratching his neck. 

“Oh.. yeah. I think I am, I was trying to find the way out of here, but…” 

He trails off, looking away, but you get what he means. The regular customers know their way around here, but for any newcomers, it’s pretty confusing. You haven’t seen anyone like him before, and it’s not like your co-workers have mentioned a guy like him coming in here. You flash a smile.

“Of course, sir, follow me.”

As he walks alongside you, you remember the clothes he’s holding in his arms. You weren’t sure if he had bought those yet, considering he was still lost all the way here, but it would be pretty ugly to assume he didn’t if he actually did…

“Oh, and did you need a bag for those, by the way, sir?”

You nod towards the garments in his hand, which makes him frown. 

“Ah… mm… No, I should put these back.”

“Oh! Did you change your mind?”

He nods, giving a frustrated huff, “My brother was helping me look for new clothes, ‘n after he left, I tried to pick out new ones too, but I don’t think I like any of them.”

You should just walk him to the exit and send him on his way. Especially after the earlier awkward conversation. But…

You glance back at him; he was still pretty cute, and whatever hostility he had earlier seems to have gone away or at least faded. If you went about it right, maybe you could get his number out of this…

“Oh, well, if you’d like, I’d love to assist you in picking out new clothes, if you’re still interested in shopping here.”

He blinks before thinking it over, muttering to himself, “I do need some new clothes.”

“Hm?”

“Oh, I’d… find that helpful, thank you.”

“Of course.”

.♡. 

“You think it’s nice?”

Having exited from the small dressing room, Choso examined himself in the mirror before turning to you for your opinion, seeing as you were an expert in clothing to him. 

You had already helped him pick out some casual clothing to wear; a few plain shirts that hugged his torso, lightweight bottoms that shaped his legs. He really was a handsome man, you realize while fitting him; if you were a proper tailor, you would’ve loved to have him as a model. 

He was pretty compliant with most of the clothes you chose for him, though for whatever reason, he continually doubted if he looked as good as you told him he did. You click your tongue walking up behind him, as you pat out wrinkles. You had him in a fine two-piece vest suit, similarly colored to the gi he had shown up in earlier. 

“Absolutely,” you hold up an arm of his as you straighten out the fabric, “If you don’t mind me speaking plainly, I think you’re a fine man, I don’t see why you should doubt that, sir.”

“...Oh.. Really?”

You glance at his face in the mirror, noticing the pink tent on his cheeks. You smirk faintly, it was always so cute to watch the guys you dress crumple at your words. Typically, you weren’t that interested in them, but this guy…

“Positively. Your body alone is quite handsome, if I may. Strong shoulders, a muscular build, powerful arms, even your hands, may I?” You had taken the time to lightly hold each part of his figure to emphasize your point and now took his hand in your gloved ones as you carefully knead over the calloused palm. It wasn’t too rough like a laborer’s would be, but they did look as if they had seen their share of rugged work. Maybe he was a sorcerer?

“Though to be perfectly honest, I’m no professional tailor or anything, just an apprentice, so my word may not hold much in terms of proficiency,” you move to adjust his hair, letting it relax as you undo his ponytails, noting how his eyes blink away to avoid yours, “But I do hope you take my words as fact when I say, you are one beautiful man.”

You flash a formal grin at him in the mirror, fixing his collar before taking a step back from him. He let his arms fall back down to his sides, as he fiddles with the cuffs. The blush on his face and ears almost rivaled the eye shadow around his eyes, contrasting the aloof expression he usually sported.

“I see, thanks.”

You smile, patting his shoulder as you gesture for him to change back to his original clothes while you gather the new ones he plans on buying. 

“It was lovely helping you today, sir, why don’t you change then I’ll help you upfront?”

.♡. 

After you sent him off with his purchases, you honestly weren’t expecting to see him again, or at least, not the very next day. 

Although, he wasn’t alone, being accompanied by a younger teen pointing at you.

“That’s who you wanted to see, Choso? That guy hanging clothes?”

“Mm, thank you, brother.”

“Yeah, well, I’m gonna be at the store next over, so you can meet me there when you’re done here.” The younger teen waves to you, before heading off and out the door. A sly smile grows on your face as the man from yesterday makes his way up to you, noticing he was wearing one of the casual shirts you had picked out for him.

Setting down the hanger in your hands, you give him your full attention, “It’s nice to see you again, sir. Is everything alright?”

He nods, his eyes on your hands before moving back up to you, “I was hoping to find some new clothes today.”

“Oh? You weren’t happy with yesterday’s purchase?” you tilt your head, a hidden smile in your voice.

“No, I was! I just… mm..” He pauses, trying to think of how to explain this. You decide to give him a break, smiling warmly at him as you pat his shoulder and gesture to the dressing room.

“I think I understand what you’re trying to say, sir. How about you head on over to the fitting room and I’ll be right with you, hm?” 

A light red tint brushes his ears as he nods weakly before moving; you turn on your heel, already certain what you’d pick out.

.♡. 

“It really is a pleasure to see you again - move your leg here - especially so soon.”

You had picked out a silky dress pants and shirt for him; a modest number of petite jewels adorning the legs and collar, laced sleeves, and an open chest window. It was a personal project you had been working on yourself with the extra fabric you’d get around the store, and it wasn’t nearly finished but it was satisfying to have someone model besides yourself. 

On one knee, you knelt by his leg, carefully tailoring the pant leg to fit him. You hummed to yourself, pretending to not notice the choked gasps that left him every time you let a hold his leg or run your fingers along the fabric. 

“As I’ve already said, this is just a pet project of mine, you won’t be buying it, but if you’re enjoying it, maybe I will see you again?” You glance up at him with a smile, playfully ignorant of your hand resting on his thigh just right below his groin. 

Choso can’t even breathe as his eyes meet yours. He wasn’t exactly sure of what he wanted from you when he came back, he just knew he wanted to meet the charming tailor’s apprentice again. The words he spoke, the way his hands had glided across the cursed spirit’s body so gracefully; it made Choso’s head spin, feelings he had never felt before surfacing in his chest. 

He imagined the many different ways the day would play out as he touched himself the night before. Letting his hand slowly float down his happy trail to his pussy, trying to replicate your mannerisms, but to no avail. Your refined voice playing in his head like an orgasmic melody, as his breath grew heavier and heavier, kneading his sensitive dick. Finally letting a finger slip in, curling up as he tries to take it as painstakingly slow as you probably would. But none of it is like you, he knows, even after getting himself to cum on his fingers, he still ached for your touch on his skin again. 

He just had to see that enchanting man again.

But now that he was actually here again, with you touching him like this, speaking so softly, it was like you put a spell on him. He gulped, remembering you had asked him something, though not at all remembering what it specifically was. 

“Choso-san?”

You tilt your head, trying to hold back a laugh though, letting a chuckle escape as you stifle it with your hand. While the dazed expression on his tinted face was endearing, you did actually want to hear him speak.

Rising to your feet, you gently tap his cheek, garnering a surprised “Ah!” out of him as he realizes how quiet he’s been. 

“Sorry, what did you ask?”

“Oh, you forgot already?”

You hum, sounding like music in Choso’s ears, as you let your gloved hand slide down to his neck before resting on his exposed chest. You meet his eyes with a smirk.

“Do you need a reminder, sir?”

.♡. 

You weren’t preparing for this exact scenario, but nonetheless, you were more than overjoyed for it to be the case. You silently thanked yourself for choosing to tailor him in the more prestigious dressing room the store had to offer, considering it was not only bigger but had a small table for laying down clothes, fabric, and other things. 

Like cute, two-ponytailed guys.

Choso bit his knuckle, trying to stifle his heavy panting as you traced a finger along his Adam’s apple, feeling his pulse quicken with your touch. You lean down, pulling him in for a kiss, as you let your other hand rest just above his chest. 

“Is this okay?” You inquire,  pulling away from his neck, eliciting a whine from him as he nods up at you, guiding your hand onto his breast. 

“Y/n…!” 

With a soft smile, you indulge him, massaging and squeezing while still layering pecks and kisses along his collarbone. He moans in your ear, grabbing hold of your shirt when you let a thumb run over his nipple. 

“I’m sure you’ve never had service like this before, hm? Never had someone kiss you like this, touch your chest like this?” 

Choso shakes his head, grip tightening with a mewl as you move your head lower, biting his soft tissue before licking over the mark. You continue this seemingly endless loop of biting and licking over and over, before finally giving some attention to his hard nipples. Letting your tongue lap over the sensitive buds has Choso a mess. Tears prick in his eyes, as he moans your name, trying to squeeze his thighs together. You don’t let him, though, as you hold his legs open with your other hand, watching him whine pitifully as he rolled his hips from your touch.

“Aht, aht. I don’t see why you should be rushing, aren’t you enjoying this pace?” A smirk evident in your voice, and it drives Choso crazy. You were so charismatic but so infuriating with how lightly you touched him and how leisurely you went about with him. He rolled his hips again, both out of need and in hopes you’d finally touch him. Instead, you tut your tongue, strengthening your hold on his thigh. 

“So impatient... Why don’t you go ahead and tell me exactly what it is you want?”

It feels like his brain’s been reduced to mush as you run your tongue over his nipple again, another whine leaving his lips. He could easily press his thighs together if he wanted, but the way you held his legs open and controlled his movements had his head spinning as he bit his lip. He couldn’t think straight at all as you tapped his thigh to bring him down to Earth.

Right, you asked him a question. A question he didn’t even remember hearing if he was honest. He moaned again, rocking his hips. 

“Haah… Please… y/n…♡”

You let your hand slide down his thigh to the zipper on his crotch, pulling it down as you exposed his pussy to the air. 

You bite your lip, feeling blood rise to your cheeks. “No underwear?” you murmur to yourself. Did he take it off after changing? Or maybe he didn’t wear any at all today? Was he hoping you’d fuck him? Just excited? Fuck, and he was already so wet, just look at him. All for you. 

You jolt a bit as Choso pulls on your shirt, moaning your name in the lewdest tone, trying to get you closer to him, to touch him. You pull him in for a kiss, your hand behind his head as you keep him close, desperate to deepen it. Choso groans, returning the kiss as he parts his lips for you, wrapping his strong legs around you now that you were closer.

Inviting your tongue into his mouth, you trail your hand down his chest to his needy cunt, letting your thumb rub over the head of his stubby cock. He closes his eyes, moaning into the kiss as his legs press tighter around you. As his dick grows wetter in your hand, you pull from the kiss with a gasp before moving down to replace your hand with your mouth. 

“Y- Ah! ❤︎ Puh-please, pleeease! Haah… hah♡!!”

He grinds on your face as you suck slowly, so frustratingly slow. He fucks himself senseless, with this being more than he could’ve imagined even if you were teasing him. His breathing grows heavier as you begin to suck faster and harder on his cock, increasing your pace with every lewd whine that leaves him. His hand grips the back of your head when you give his dick one last suck, seeing stars as he comes right into your mouth. 

It was better than anything he could’ve imagined last night, you were taking such good care of him right now, all he could do was blubber his words, begging for more. The way you touched him, and spoke to him, it was like he was drunk off of you alone. You found it adorable; if only the two of you were at your studio, you would’ve loved to fuck him senseless with your strap, seeing him dazed out of his mind like this. No matter, there was always next time, but for now…

Not giving him a chance to recuperate, you move back up his body to suck on his sensitive nipple as you let a gloved hand slide over his wet cunt. He brings his knuckle back to his mouth to smother his lewd whines, but you pull it away with a tsk.

“Haah…haah.. I want to hear you… don’t even think of hiding that gorgeous voice.”

The tint on his face deepens as he nods, his cock twitching at your words. His noisy whines fill the dressing room as you return to sucking on his nipple, slipping a finger into his needy cunt. You curl your finger up, slowly fingering him as you feel for something. You smirk when Choso screams, throwing his head back as his thighs tremble around you, having found that sensitive bud. 

He’s a babbling mess as he begs for you to add another finger to him, move faster, touch him there gain, anything! You oblige happily, curling another gloved finger into him as he soaks the fabric through. His eyes roll to the back of his head as you increase your pace, plunging your fingers in and out of him, nothing but the sound of squelching and his mewling in the room. 

“Mm.. haah..! CUH-close, so hah… close…♡!”

His thighs tremble pathetically as he gasps when you remove your fingers from his pussy, ready to beg for them back before almost crying out in pleasure as you thrust your tongue deep into his cunt. 

You drink him in, lapping up his sensitive cock before diving your tongue between his folds. His sensitive walls press around you as fuck him crazy with your mouth. As he presses your face deeper between his increasingly shaky legs, you know he’s close as you toy with his cock with your hand.

“Oh! ♡ Mm- Muh.. ah…!! ♡ Haah… M’ gonna…. y/n…! I… HAAH..♡♡..  AH ❤︎!!”

The stimulation is all too much for the poor spirit as he cums hard, his legs locking to keep you there as you continue to tongue-fuck him through his orgasm, eliciting more lewd whines and moans out of him from the overstimulation. Finally, his twitching legs relax as he pants, tears at the corners of his eyes. You pull yourself from his pussy, kissing his thighs. He moans softly as you run your hand over the hickeys on his breasts, kissing each one gently as you hold him. He sighs pleasurably as you peck each one, enjoying the feeling of your soft lips on his chest once again. 

When you pull away, he’s still panting trying to catch his breath a bit as you kiss his cheek. You smile down at him, pulling off your stained glove as you speak, “And how do you feel, sir?”

He feels heat rise to the tips of his ears, suddenly feeling shy as he comes down from his high, “Good.. I.. It was exactly what I was wanting..”

“Oh?” You take your bare hand to cup his face, “Exactly what you wanted, you say? So I can guess you’re satisfied then?”

He’s blushing, he can feel it. He glances down at his decorated body, how you absolutely ravished him, how your fingers alone had him coming. But he also catches sight of the wet patch on your pants and gulps, feeling his cock twitch.

“I want that again. But I want to make you feel good, too.”

You raise an eyebrow; that was a first, usually the guys you played around with always left you high and dry, leaving without much of a thank you or anything. You tilt your head, smiling teasingly.

“Well, usually I like to be wined and dined before getting ate out, but I suppose if you insist…”

“I can do that! Where do you want to go?”

You almost laugh in surprise; you were only teasing, yet he was so serious about taking you out. It was… touching. And cute. So he wasn’t only just attractive, he was thoughtful too. You were going to love him.

You press a kiss onto his lips before pulling away before it got out of hand, “How about you go change, and I’ll have an answer when you’re out?”

He nods, heading for the small changing door, before stopping and turning to you, a light tint on his that accented his cute mark, “You can just say Choso. You don’t have to call me sir.”

The smile on your face beams, “Alright, Choso.”

#m! reader #male reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #choso smut #choso x reader #choso x male reader

[gojo-mochi]

Hi!! I love your writing so much, I'm so excited to have found your blog! :3 If you'd like, may I please request drabbles (or HCs if you prefer!) for Mihawk and Crocodile with a gn!reader, and like a really soft tender moment where they just get a break from everything and get to cuddle or just enjoy each other's company peacefully? Thank you so much!!

Soft Moments w/ Crocodile and Mihawk

A/N: EEEEEEeee thank you for being my very first request!!, I’m not that good at writing gn!reader I think but I’ll try my best! ૮₍っ ̫ •̥⸝⸝ ₎ა

Content Warning: Fluff. NonProof-read.

Crocodile:

It was meetings after meetings, Crocodile was gone or busy for most of the week, dealing with different types of idiots.

It's like the Grand Line keeps spawning a new type of stupid every day, I swear." Crocodile growled, plopping down on the couch. He pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to alleviate the headache he is having. You sat down next to him, placing a glass of water on the table in front of you. Patting his knee in solace. "It’s alright now, dear; let’s just forget about them, hmm?" You cooed, motioning for him to drink some water as well.

He sighs, grabbing the glass and chugging all its contents in one swig. Placing it back on the table, he turns to look at you with a softened expression, arms curling around your back and under your knee. Crocodiles picks you up and gently places you on his lap. Your own arms go to loop around his neck, cuddling in closer. Crocodile leans back on the couch with you in his arms, rubbing small circles on your back and planting light kisses on your forehead.

"Am glad you’re here…" He said,  voice muffled by your hair. You giggled at that, turning your head slightly to give a kiss back. "I’ll always be here for you, you know that."

He gave a small squeeze in response, and the both of you just stayed there for a while, in each other’s arms. You soon heard a light snoring coming from above you. Crocodile was slumped over, cheek pressed against your hair, mouth open to produce the light snoring you heard before. You smiled at the sight, letting out a small laugh, ‘I wonder what those idiots would think if they saw you like this.’ You thought in your head.

You pivoted around slowly, putting your hand on Crocodile’s shoulder, trying to guide him down to lay fully on the couch. He mumbled something as he sank down onto the couch, making sure to pull you along with him. You shifted around some more until you were more comfortable. Now laying on top of Crocodile, his arms snaked tightly around you, you sigh contently, drifting off into your slumber.

Mihawk:

You were both in the library, reading your own choice of literature. Your legs sat upon Mihawk’s lap; you were reading a mystery novel full of twists and turns that made you "Ooh" and "Ahh" out loud at certain passages. You gasped particularly loudly at a scene where the true killer was revealed. Mihawk smiled at your antics, watching you with piercing golden eyes. "Oh my! I knew it was the maid all along!" You snapped your fingers at the book, almost vibrating with excitement.

Mihawk raised an eyebrow at you. "If I recall correctly, earlier you said the killer ‘Had to be the gardener’ no?" He asked with a small smirk tugging on the side of his lips. You blushed a bit and huffed out, "I was just kidding… I always knew it was the maid, just keeping you on your toes, alright?".

Mihawk sends you a look, which you return by sticking out your tongue at him. He doesn’t try to hide his laugh now, openly chuckling at your cuteness.

 "If you are done with your reading, come closer; I wish to embrace you."

The way he said it so casually made your heart skip a couple beats. You scoot closer to him, fully nestling down on his lap, head tucked beneath his chin. He rested a hand on your waist, softly rubbing circles on your hip, while the other carried the current book he was still reading. You peer over to take a look at the book’s content. "So, what’cha reading there?" You asked, trying to skim the page he was on.

 He hummed, angling the book so you could get a better view, "A romance novel, quite intriguing so far." He answered, "Would you like to read it together?".

"Only if I could do voices for the characters." You jested. Mihawk let out a snort at that but nodded nonetheless. Shifting you closer to his chest, Mihawk began to read the first line of the page. You follow in kind, making sure to do perfect voices for each character you come across. Mihawk tried to do a voice for a drunkard that appeared, by mimicking a certain red haired emperor. It almost made you fall off the couch if his arm wasn’t secured around your waist.

You spent the rest of the day in each other's arms, just like this, in your own little romance world.

#hope you like it !!!! #₍ᐢ. ̫.ᐢ₎ softy writes #one piece headcanons #one piece x reader #sir crocodile x reader #mihawk x reader #one piece #fluff #one piece fluff

[tyunlewd]

Please ignore this if it makes you feel uncomfortable, but i am seriously need txt with breeding kink rnnn😢

angel

soobin x fem!reader (smut)

warning(s); breeding, creampie (pls protect urselves 🙏), nickname ‘angel’, cum stuffing, (implied) aftercare :3

notes: first fic up on the blog because i made it then immediately got swamped with responsibilities irl pls forgib me </3. but anywho i prefer to write oneshots like this over headcanons/bulleted lists so i just chose one member, i hope that’s okay! if there’s another member you’d like to see pls lmk ^_^

soobin’s been fucking you for nearly an hour, his stamina impressing you despite your state of arousal. there was little other noise in the room besides desperate crazed moans and slapping of skin as he buried himself deep inside of you, running you into the mattress.

his soft grunts and moans severely contrasted his rough and quick pace, but they pushed you closer to the edge nonetheless

“fuck, baby,” he praises you sweetly.

“you take my dick so good. so good for me, pretty girl.”

you helplessly nod against the sheets, squirming around, your orgasm beginning to coil up in your stomach, pleading for a release.

“god, it’s so deep, it’s too deep!”

you whine, but his persistent thrusts don’t stop. if anything, he presses impossibly further inside of you, the tip of his dick hitting your cervix. a soft buzzing overtakes your entire body as you quickly approach an orgasm.

“gonna cum inside you, angel,”

he pants in your ear, hands gripping you by the small of your back. his thumbs dig into your plush skin, and when his breathing picks up you know he’s about to cum.

“wanna fill you up with my babies.”

at his comment, you unravel, cumming so hard your entire body reacts and shakes with pleasure. you desperately grip at the sheets beneath you to keep from twisting away and out of his grasp, but he’s holding you so tight you probably couldn’t have done so anyway.

the way you clench around him and whine and moan as you cum has him following you almost immediately after, pushing into you so far your ass is flush with his pelvic bone. you feel his sticky seed spill inside you, and because you’re already stuffed with his dick, it dribbles out of you.

“oh my god,”

soobin pulls out of you slightly, but not all the way. as he does so, you feel what seems like an absurd amount of cum squeeze itself out of you.

“you’re so full, angel.”

he pulls all the way out, and he almost gets hard again from the sight of your leaking pussy. as some of it leaks you, he scoops it up with his finger and shoves it back inside you. you yelp at the harsh overstimulation.

“wanna make sure you take every last drop,” he comments, repeating the motion of shoving his own arousal back inside of you as more of it tries to drip down your thighs.

after some time of him obsessively trying to keep you stuffed, you have to push his hand away weakly.

“enough, soob, i’m too full.”

he nods, but smears whatever slick is left of his hand on your butt, which he proceeds to knead and massage in his hands.

“you’re so pretty, angel. you look so pretty like this.”

you hum at the nice feeling, but when his curious fingers begin to wander lower, you swat at him again.

“s’ enough!”

you laugh, and he takes the hint this time. he presses a kiss you your backside, trailing more kisses up your spine before he makes it to your neck and face, pressing a long and sweet one right to your temple.

“i’ll be back, angel,” he promises, rising off of the bed and heading for the bathroom.

#soobin x reader #soobin #txt #txt x reader #txt smut #smut #soobin smut #soobin x reader smut #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop smut #soobin oneshot #txt oneshots #kpop oneshots

[filmbyjy]

enhypen reaction to accidentally hitting their s/o's boob? btw i love your writings very much 👍👍❤️

a/n: aww thank you for loving my writings🫶🏻 but anyways! this is gonna be crack and i’m so sorry😵‍💫

WARNINGS: sex is mention but like no smut duh. it’s used in a more crack way.

-

enhypen reacts to: accidentally hitting their s/o’s boobs

| LEE HEESEUNG

I feel like there is two ways heeseung can react…

one: he is a dork

he is going to be soooo shy

like *smack* and he stays frozen in his seat

“uh hehe.” is all he manages to say

seriously he is so adorable :(

but like obviously he apologises like he hit the tiddies, it’s a pretty sensitive area you know

also blushes profusely bc baby shy shy

two: the shit head

smirks after hitting the boobs

like boy, I swear to god

he might just nonchalantly say, "it's mine to touch anyways."

BOY

EXCUSE YOU??

| PARK JONGSEONG

definitely going to apologise

gentleman as fuck

*smack*

"oh sorry babe."

you can't even be mad at him :(

"it's alright, jongseong ^_^."

anything for you my king😍

i'm sorry, the jay biased is showing

okay but i do think at times though he hits your boobs accidentally, he may smirk

just a teeny tiny smirk

i'd say jay has a preference for boobs but he ain't picky. he likes ass too. too much?

he does like laying on your chest though. no matter the size of your boobs.

overall, he doesn’t think dirty at all. he just apologises.

| SIM JAEYUN

overall, jake is a gentleman

like ignore the red flags he exhibits during concerts

he is truly a gentleman

so he is like heeseung a little

for one part, he will 100% apologise bc he feels bad

and besides it hurts

“oh, sorry babe.”

the other part however…

“soft tiddies.”

like? why?

I mean sure since you are his girlfriend, he technically can touch it. only if you are comfortable

but like?? it’s so random how he blurts it out after hitting it on accident

| PARK SUNGHOON

being the dork he is

i’d say he’d act the same like jake

sure, he is shy

but that persona appears only if you just started dating him

*blushes* “I am so sorry, princess.”

see he is sweet

but oh lord, catch him 1 year later and you bet he doesn’t apologise for shit

“whoops.”

it’s all he says before continuing about his day

that is until he comments on it

“oh right, I hit your boobs. did it hurt? oh, it did? sorry. however, you did say during sex you liked to be roughly manhandled. I thought the pain would be over the top. I’ve done worse. you couldn’t walk the next d-”

bro what has that got to do with hitting your boobs😀

you just rolled your eyes and walked away from him bc boy what the hell

| KIM SUNOO

he will apologise

i’m sorry if you were expecting something big

but this man is too sweet

he wouldn’t harm a single fly

okay maybe bugs he would harm but he wouldn’t harm you

he loves you so he isn’t just gonna fly pass that he hit your boobs

“OH MY GOD, IM SO SORRY. DOES IT HURT??”

okay maybe too worried

| YANG JUNGWON

he will blush

he didn’t mean to hit it

like he was talking about his day while being pretty expressive with his gestures

and then…

*smack*

he looks at you with widened eyes, his cheeks turning red and shit

“sorry.”

then he looks away shyly

aww :(( he looked too cute that you just brushed the pain off

“no it’s okay, won. it was barely a hit, I didn’t feel anything.”

which was a lie bc goddamn it was a hard smack

but anything for jungwon🧎🏻‍♀️

| NISHIMURA RIKI

since ni-ki is a child

he didn’t mean to smack it

he probably just was so into his game that he shoves you and accidentally hit your boobs

you of course groaned in pain

bc goddamn that was a hard shove

“ni-ki! YOU SMACKED MY BOOBS.”

stares at you. trying to think if he actually did

when realises he did it on accident, he blushes.

“sorry. I didn’t realise.”

he apologised which is great

until he does it again and you are definitely tackling him to the ground and play fighting him

“YOU HIT MY TITS AGAIN, NISHIMURA.”

“IT WASN’T ON PURPOSE, BABE. I WAS JUST SHOVING YOU SO YOU COULD LOSE!”

#bro idk what this was #I am apologising in advance for what you read #sorry #enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen imagine #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff #heeseung #heeseung imagines #heeseung imagine #jay #jay imagines #jay imagine #jake #jake imagines #jake imagine #sunghoon #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon imagine #sunoo #sunoo imagines #sunoo imagine #jungwon #jungwon imagines #jungwon imagine #ni ki #ni ki imagines #ni ki imagine

[hazshit-hotel-hater]

I’m gonna be honest I don’t understand how people can be hazbin hotel fans and just know everything vivziepop has done and dont care or they choose to pretend they dont know so they dont have to feel guilty about it. Shocking news, you can be INCREDIBLY critical of media you enjoy parts of. I enjoy parts of this show but I’m not going to go buy shit to watch it and support some random lady using a closed religion to make her tumblr sexyman character look “scary”.

I saw someone say vivziepop misgendering someone (allegedly on accident) after getting mad, was a “nothing sandwich” which 1. No the fuck it aint. And also 2. Are you actually off your rocker nuts. I don’t give a fuck if it was an accident heat of the moment thing. Sure you can apologise for that, not me who you misgendered so I cant accept it, but misgendering anyone is never a “nothing sandwich”. Same guy also said that vivzie demonising and appropriating vodou was okay because “Alastor can do it” That… doesn’t fucking matter? VIVZIE can’t practice vodou and neither can her weird red suited deer man, sorry to burst your bubble.

I think everyone thats scrolled even a few inches on my blog (cause really thats all I have) can tell I like Angel Dust. Lots of people like Angel Dust. But apparently half of those people can’t comprehend you can dislike aspects of a character while liking other ones. I mean this directed toward fans by the way. Id sure as hell prefer if he wasn’t fucking fetishised for being a gay man but its vivziepop so literally what can I expect from the lady that makes merch glorifying his abuse. “Yes vivzie! Id love to purchase merch of a traumatic situation ive also been in! Thank you so much for making it look pretty!” I will literally eat glass and drink battery acid before any of this shit actually comes outta my mouth.

It’s so fucking weird how her spin-off show has better representation, humour, writing, and more than her actual main show. Im super glad Helluva Boss is good. Im glad there isn’t any stupid racist representations in there or overly fetishised gay men. Fizzaroli and Ozzie are a cute couple thats written very nicely but even they have elements of vivziepops unsavoury interests that you can see sometimes, but oh my god. Put some of that care into your MAIN show. I am holding out so much hope that vivzie continues the good writing of episodes 7 & 8 so much I am not going to stop noting that, but I am also fully ready to crash and burn from those hopes and that is so fucking disappointing.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel rewrite #hazbin hotel issues #hazbin hotel review #hazbin angel #angel dust #hazbin angel dust #helluva boss #helluva fizzarolli #helluva ozzie #helluva critical #hazbin critical #hazbin hotel criticism

[the-west-meadow]

Omg literally anything w roman but if u have slots open can u do the ‘did u miss me’ prompt i’ll do anything…

god I love writing fucked-up relationship scenarios with Roman. enjoy xo

Roman Roy x Reader

prompt: did you miss me?

The days seemed longer without him. Wandering your empty townhouse, you watched the sky change from morning to dusk, whiling away the hours. There had been no word from Roman since he left for Stockholm to meet Matsson. An urgent mission, so he said. Dispatched by his father, the dutiful son went out to fulfill his task. It sounded almost romantic.

At night you lay atop your bed, remembering him. Roman kept himself locked away, so much of him inaccessible to you. In a way, you preferred it that way. There was less risk involved, fewer feelings to hurt. The word ‘love’ never came up, there was no sense of attachment or obligation. Both of you were essentially free, yet you still felt as if he was holding something back. Something dark and inexplicable.

You came home one late afternoon to find him waiting for you on your sofa. Somehow it didn’t surprise you. But it was your own reaction that caught you off guard. Seeing him there, your heart swelled almost painfully. Roman was back. The endless energy, the flippant remarks, the explicit banter. He looked across the room at you with eyes that hinted something had happened which he had already locked away.

“I broke in,” he said. “Did you know I could do that?”

You set a bag of groceries on the counter.

“I’m not surprised,” you said, shrugging off your coat. “How was Stockholm?”

“Broad questions make me deeply uncomfortable. How am I supposed to answer that? Why are you lingering in the kitchen?”

You stepped into the living room, sitting down in the chair adjacent to him. He spread his arm across the back of the sofa and looked at you. His gaze was distant, unreadable. 

“So,” he said.

“So.”

“I got Lukas to make the deal.”

“Wow. How did you do that?”

“Oh, you know. Just did what I had to do.”

The sun was sinking and a heavy blue darkness crept across the room. Roman kept his eyes fixed on you. You swallowed hard. 

“Well. Congratulations. Your dad will be happy.”

“I don’t think he's familiar with that emotion. But thanks.”

He stood up, slowly circling around to the back of the sofa. He leaned on both elbows and continued to gaze at you.

“What did you do with yourself without me?” he asked.

“I lost track. You were gone a long time.”

“It takes time to woo these obstinate fucks. Lukas is a real mental case. I mean, if you think I’m nuts…”

Watching him, you could feel an invisible force threatening to pull your heart in two. 

“But I caught him in his element. He really came alive in the frigid northern wastelands.”

His tone was light as always, but there was something pained in his expression. 

“Oh, there’s something I was wondering, though…” he went on.

“What?”

Roman's gaze wavered slightly.

“Did you miss me?”

His voice was soft, barely breaking the silence. Yet it cut through you like the sharp tolling of a bell. Your heart lurched and you almost leapt towards him. When you spoke, it was in a broken whisper.

“Of course I missed you, you fucking idiot.”

He clenched the back of the sofa with his fists, head down. 

“Oh,” he said weakly.

“You didn’t think I would?”

You watched as he climbed slowly over the back of the sofa and settled into a ball with his knees drawn in.

“Not after what I did,” he said. “What my dad made me do.”

You rose and went slowly to the sofa, sitting down beside him. He wouldn’t look at you.

“I don’t care what you did, Roman. You live in a world unknown to me. I let you live there. I don’t ask questions. But yes, I fucking miss you when you’re gone. I didn’t realize how much I would.”

“I missed you too,” he murmured. “It actually hurt. I was in physical pain. So fuck you for that.”

He glanced at you. You met each other’s eyes hesitantly. 

“I hate feeling things,” he said. “Look what you’ve done to me.”

“I didn’t want this, either.” 

Roman gave a weak laugh. “Well, that’s nice of you to say.”

“Roman, what happened between you and Lukas?”

“I don’t think you want to hear that.”

“I kind of do.”

“You’re such a fucking masochist. I’m not telling you.”

You stared at each other in the growing darkness.

“But you’re okay?” you asked hesitantly.

“I’m fine. Seriously. I know how to handle myself.”

“Well, I don’t know how to handle you.”

A smile flickered across his face. He leaned towards you, placed his hand on the back of your head, and kissed you on the forehead. A long, lingering gesture that made your heart skip. He pulled back and his eyes glittered with a soft smile.

“You don’t have to. Just enjoy the fucked up rollercoaster ride that is Roman Roy.”

#roman roy #roman roy/reader #roman roy x reader #succession #request #angst #fluff #lukas matsson

[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

I love how you write soldier boy…would you be able to write how he reacts with a spider-woman reader…she’s just swinging webs all around him and his old man brain cannot handle it. She’s a fit as a fiddle and she’s stressing him out because she will not just…sit down! (Preferably they’ve been dating for ages) 💖

More Than a Spider Can

masterlist

pairing: soldier boy x female reader

rating: R for language

word count: 1.4k

warnings: language, talk of sex, the boys spoilers

timeline: set in an au shortly after the events of season 3

author’s note: another request!? i’m genuinely flattered! sending you so much love anon, thank you! this was so fun to write, and something i never would’ve thought of! thank you so so much!

gif source

You’d have to thank Butcher one day for introducing you to the Supe you now lived with. He had needed a place to “hide” Soldier Boy shortly after the Supe incapacitated Homelander. You were hesitant at first, but Soldier Boy had just de-powered the most dangerous person on the planet, you had to help him out!

Butcher claimed it wouldn’t be for very long, but Soldier Boy never ended up leaving. Not that you minded, he was surprisingly sweet. You expected him to be a complete asshole but he wasn’t as bad as the stories you’d heard.

After about a month you took him up on the offer he’d made the first second he saw you. You spent a night together. Then another. And another. And a few more. And before you could overthink it, you said those three words that he then repeated.

With Mallory’s help, Butcher managed to clear Soldier Boy’s name, and even get the two of you a job at Supe Affairs (which was now run by Hughie since Neuman was running for Vice President).

So now, here you were; asking Hughie for clearance to go after a Supe who’d been stalking their ex.

“Y/n, there’s no actual proof this guy is doing anything you’re saying he’s done!” Hughie said.

“Hughie, the witness is a friend of mine. She’s not fucking lying about this!”

“I believe you, but I need proof before I let Soldier Boy kick his ass!”

“Soldier Boy won’t lay a hand on him, you have my word.”

“Oh, so you suddenly have control over Soldier Boy?”

“No, but I am faster than him! I’ll have this guy webbed up before Ben even gets there.”

“Ben,” He laughed a little. “Still can’t believe you’re dating the guy. Figured you’d hate Butcher for dumping him on you, but turns out you fell in love.”

“Okay,” You rolled your eyes at his teasing. “Just shut up and sign the damn form so I can get this asshole.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. But you better be sure Ben doesn’t break any fuckin’ bones. I’m tired of cleaning up your boyfriend’s messes.”

**

“What the absolute fuck…” Ben furrowed his brows, walking into the kitchen. “Y/n!?”

“Yes?” You asked, clinging to the roof.

“God-fucking-damnit woman!” He exclaimed, putting a hand to his chest. “Why does our kitchen look like a spider puked in here?”

“I’m just making dinner, Ben, calm down! I’ll clean this all up when I’m done.” You hopped down from the roof.

“You…” He tried opening the fridge but it was stuck. “Y/n, I’m trying to stay calm here but why the fuck can’t I open the fridge?”

“Sorry,” You smiled with cringe-clenched teeth. You opened the door for him.

“So why are you on the roof?” He asked when you jumped back up.

“I cook better when things are upside down,” You shrugged with a smile.

“I sure do wish your mouth was close enough to kiss, though,” He sighed dramatically, you rolled your eyes a little. You let yourself down a few feet, hanging on a string of web.

“I think kisses are better upside down too,” You smiled. He kissed you, smiling against your lips.

**

“Dinner is served,” You smiled, holding two plates as you walked into the living room.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Ben smiled when he took a plate. He furrowed his brows a little when you didn’t sit down right away. “Aren’t you gonna eat?”

“Yeah, of course,” You replied. Before Ben could say anything, you jumped up onto the roof before letting yourself hang upside down on a string of web. “What’re we watching?”

“Uh…Smallville,” He nodded slightly. “It’s…what was on…” He trailed off a little as you began eating upside down. “Honey, wha…what’re you doing?”

“Eating dinner?” You furrowed your brows. “Why? Is something wrong?”

“No it’s…all good,” He replied.

“So, you think Homelander ever watched this show?” You asked, half-heartedly.

“No clue,” Ben mumbled.

“Oh, by the way! Hughie gave me the thumbs up for going after Cara’s ex.”

“Cara?”

“Yeah, my old neighbor, you met her. Her ex is that creepy Supe who’s only power is x-ray vision and all he does is hang around outside dressing rooms and Victoria’s Secret stores.”

“Uh huh?”

“Anyway, Hughie gave me his location, I’m going after him tomorrow night. It’s no biggie if you don’t wanna come with me, it’s not gonna be much of a fight.”

“No, yeah…I’ll get the next one…have fun.”

There was about thirty seconds of silence before you put your plate down and swung your way over to the kitchen. You came back a moment later with two cold beers.

“Okay, would you stop!” He suddenly snapped.

“Ben?”

“You- Just- Goddamnit Y/n, I wanted to just fucking sit with you and watch this show but you’re on the fucking roof! Are you mad at me or something? Why don’t you want to relax with me?” What started off as an angry expression turned to one of hurt, which broke your heart a little.

“Ben, I’m not mad at you!” You exclaimed, hurrying down from the roof and sitting next to him. “I’m sorry, I just- I dunno, I don’t think much of it. I just like being off the floor.”

“It does look pretty fun,” He mumbled. He pulled you onto his lap, keeping your back pressed against his chest. “But sometimes I just want you here on the floor with us non-spider-people.”

“Okay, I’ll try and walk around like a normal person,” You huffed. “But only cause I love you so much.” You turned and kissed him quickly before focusing on the TV.

**

“Ben, what are you doing here?” You asked him the following night. “This is my case, I’m supposed to bring this guy in.”

“Oh, c’mon, don’t pretend you aren’t thrilled to see me,” He smirked.

“Of course I’m happy to see you,” You smiled, putting a hand on his cheek. “Just let me take the lead on this one, okay?”

“Fine,” He sighed.

“Are you two gonna eye-fuck all night or can we fight like regular freaks and get this over with?” The man at the other end of the street shouted.

“Think I’m gonna eye-fuck her a little longer if you don’t mind!” Ben called back. “I take it back, I’m bringing this asshole down!” He smirked then took off down the street.

“Fuck,” You mumbled to yourself. You knew full well you were faster than Ben but you didn’t like showing him up all the time. “Oh well.”

You thwiped a thick piece of web to a billboard above the street and hurled yourself up and onto it. You then ran down the side of a building and landed on top of the Supe before he could see where you were. You had him webbed up like a fly before Ben even made it down the street.

“Seriously? You take all the fun out of this!” Ben grumbled. “You can’t just web the guy up! I was in the mood for some ass kicking!”

“I think the words you’re looking for are ‘thank you so much my beautiful girlfriend, Y/n! Because of you I still have a job at the bureau and now we can go relax in our apartment because you managed to take down this Supe in record time!’ Then I would have said, ‘of course Soldier Boy! I love you so much and you’re very welcome’.”

“I love you too,” He mumbled.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you?” You asked, walking up to him. You wrapped your hands behind his head, running your fingers through his hair.

“I love you too,” He rolled his eyes a little.

“Come on, just kill me, I’d rather that, then watch this!” The webbed-up Supe groaned. “Y/n, I thought your type was guys your age, not-” He was cut off by you webbing his mouth closed.

“What does Campbell want us to do with this asshole?” Ben asked, not letting his green eyes break contact with your love-filled ones. You tilted your head a little and smirked. “What?”

“You just called Hughie by his real name,” You giggled. Ben thought about it for a second and sighed with annoyance when he realized you were right.

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy #soldier boy fluff #the boys #the boys fluff #the boys fanfic #the boys tv #request #requested #by mind empty just fictional people #by jean

[itgetsdark-x]

Hey, I have a little idea, that I just can't get out of my head.

Joel is trying to teach the reader how to play the guitar riff of "the chain" by Fleetwood Mac, but the reader gets a bit too distracted by Joels finger movements, which he notices, teases the reader with a cheeky smirk preferably like something similar to "darling you're focusing on the wrong thing". Once he sees that the reader is blushing, he sets down his guitar, takes the readers guitar and they just do it in the living room, just because they're so caught up in the moment. Then after the deed, he let's out a snarky remark on how the reader is easily distracted (honestly I don't even know how should the remark sound, like "next time focus on the strings and not the lingering fingers") [I'll just leave it up to you], but yeah the reader promises that she would be more attentive next time and they both start wheezing, because she's already making promises that she wouldn't be able to keep. The end 🥰

PS. And bless you and your writing, the writing is absolutely astounding, the way you capture pure emotions is phenomenal, the dialogues between characters too. Everything is mind-blowing, most of the time I find myself taken aback by it 😚. Thank you!!

A/N: please forgive the fact this has been sat in my inbox for literally months, I am so sorry!! <3 I’ve had so much on recently I just haven’t had the time to write so also please forgive the fact this sucks, I feel so outta touch! Nevertheless, here is your request and I hope I’ve done it justice, somewhat as the prompt was amazing!!

Summary: you love music, almost as much as you love watching your friend, Joel, play the guitar. When you’re stuck learning a song, Joel is there to lend a hand, in more ways than one.

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, it’s just smut, unprotected p in v, mentioned age gap, mild choking, oral (m receiving)

Characters: Joel Miller x (f) reader

Word Count: 3.6k

You sighed heavily, the breath from your lungs exhaling loudly in frustration as you threw your guitar down on the old couch in anger.

“What’s got you in a tiffy, darlin’?” Joel asked, peering his head round the corner so he could look at you.

“Can’t learn this fuckin’ riff in The Chain, y’know by Fleetwood Mac?” You groaned, slumping back into your seat and closing your eyes.

“Yeah, I’m from that era of music, darlin’. I’m well aware of the song.” He chuckled dryly and leant up against the wall of his lounge so he could admire you. “Would you like some help? I know the song and could teach you, if you like?” He said kindly.

“Really? Would you?” You grinned. “God, Joel! Yes! Thank you, you’d really by saving my life. I promised the band we would play it at our next show in a few day’s but actually didn’t realise the riff would be quite so hard. Sorry I know we said we would just hangout tonight and listen to music but this has got me all frustrated.”

Joel just smiled at you softly before he left the room to grab his own guitar. The two of you had been close friends for a while. Not long after you had moved to town, you stumbled into a local bar and saw this somewhat gruff-looking guy strumming his guitar at the open mic night. It took you to go to the same bar and see him three more times before you even grew the courage to say hello to him. There was an instant attraction between the two of you but you never quite built up the courage to become more than close friends, you spent a lot of time together and there always felt like more lingered in the air but you always managed to repress those feelings. Still, here you were now, you both seemed to just slot into one another’s life and routines seamlessly and without further words of your feelings for one another.

He reappeared with his, much nicer, and newer guitar; he gestured for you to scoot across the couch and pick up your own guitar. There was an evident age-gap between the two of you but you both bonded over your love or music and still, even still, it’s what you both loved the most.

“Okay, so,” Joel started and sat down on the couch next to you.

You turned yourself and crossed your legs so you could watch the male and follow his instructions. You picked up your own guitar and followed suit in Joel’s fingers positions.

He peered over at you with a soft smile, it was the sort of smile that hooked you from the instant you set your eyes on him; the kind of smile you wanted to drown yourself in forever. Just as quick as you saw yourself staring at the male, you diverted your gaze to his fingers once more and focused on your own positioning.

“You wanna put your fingers like this, strum, strum, switch, strum, switch…” Joel was instructing but your brain felt as if it had turned to mush.

This felt like it was the first time you properly took in the older male’s form and you could feel your cheeks heating up; you watched as Joel’s thick fingers moved effortlessly to play the riff that you had been struggling with. He continued to play and the soft chords filled your ears.

Your mind wandered filthily as he did so; you stopped trying to play along as you watched his fingers move, imagining what they would feel like touching you, feeling you, even what they would feel like inside of you. You shifted awkwardly in your seat as the familiar throb of lust swept through your body.

You imagined how it would feel to have Joel’s fingers tracing down your body softly, so incredibly softly until they were hooking inside your panties to gentle caress yo—

“Darlin’,” Joel coughed, drawing your attention back to the room. “Seems to me you’re focusing on the wrong thing…”

“What?!” You asked loudly, directing your gaze back to the smirking male in front of you. “Oh, I — uh — you,” you muttered. “Good technique.” You managed to get out with deeply flushed cheeks.

“Good technique, huh?” He chuckled. “You’re blushin’ quite a bit there.” Joel remarked with a smug smirk as he placed his guitar down on the floor away from the couch.

“N-no I am not!” You defended weakly, staring at the male once again with widened eyes as he took your guitar. “Wait, w-what are you doing?” You asked meekly.

“I’m doing what I shoulda done that night you first spoke to me.” Joel whispered, moving closer to you now.

He put your guitar on the floor, with his own and closed the distance between you; one of his strong hands held your face as he pressed a hungry kiss to your parted lips. You couldn’t help but gasp as your brain caught up with what was happening.

You pressed your palms to the males broad chest and gently pushed him away so you could open your mouth to speak once more.

“I don’t wanna ruin anything, Joel. D-don’t be dumb.” You whispered as you leant into the hand on your face.

“Shut up and kiss me, will you?” He laughed dryly before pulling you back in.

Joel manoeuvred your body until your were straddling his lap and you let out a contented sigh as he deepened the kiss; his tongue quickly swept along your bottom lip before it delved into your mouth to fight against your own. Any previous arguments of why you shouldn’t be doing this melted away with each kiss. Your hips shifted in the males lap, your greedy privates needing more friction than you were getting.

Joel let out a breathy laugh and toyed with the buttons on the front of your plaid shirt, he looked up at you to silently ask for permission, to which you gave a simple nod. Within seconds he was exposing your bra-clad chest, he couldn’t contain the deep groan that rumbled from his throat as his fingers fumbled with the fabric to expose more of your skin.

“Look at you, darlin’, so pretty.” He mumbled, attaching his rough lips to the skin of your neck and chest. He peppered soft kisses to the delicate skin and nipped at the doughy flesh of your breast.

You let out a soft moan, it was a small noise but it only encouraged Joel further; he unhooked your bra and let your bare breasts fall free from the constricting fabric. Your chest heaved, your skin was flushed and you wriggled in Joel’s lap; you weren’t sure what to do with your hands or even your body, you were fixed in the spot and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from Joel’s hands again. Only this time, they were massaging at your sensitive tits, he pinched his fingers over your hardening nipples and he toyed with the sensitive buds.

“Fuck, Joel. Please, I need way more than this. Please.” You breathed, watching him still.

“Yeah?” He groaned, his cock throbbing painfully in his worn jeans. “You need more? I see the way you’re still watching me, baby girl. You wanna watch as I play with your pretty pussy?”

Your breath caught in your throat at Joel’s question, you never imagined he could sound any sexier but there he was, filth falling from his lips as he played with your tits. With such nonchalance, he might as well have asked you how you like your coffee in the morning. You nodded eagerly, unable to string an answer together and Joel just chuckled.

“Get out your jeans and panties for me then. Then, just wait, since you got such a thing for watching my hands why don’t I let you watch properly?” He smirked.

You did as you were instructed, you stood from the sofa and stripped yourself of your remaining clothes and you kicked the discarded articles of clothing to the side with your waylaid guitar. You draped your arms over your chest, feeling overly exposed compared to Joel who was still fully dressed. Joel pushed the coffee table in the middle of the room until it was a further distance away from the sofa and he swiftly took the mirror off of the wall; he rested it up against the edge of the coffee table so that it was positioned opposite the sofa.

“What are you doing?” You asked a little nervously.

“You’ll see, darlin’. Now how ‘bout you come help me get outta these clothes?”

You didn’t hesitate for a second longer and you were on the male in a flash, your hands clawed at Joel’s T-shirt as you haphazardly pulled it over his head before you moved onto unbuckling his belt and helping him out of his jeans and boxers.

His cock sprung free from the restraints of his boxers and you instantly felt yourself flutter around air, you craved any part of the older male you could get your hands on.

Joel hissed softly as the cool air hit the tip of his swollen cock, the pre-cum already beading at his slit. You swallowed roughly as your eyes drank in the male in front of you, your soft hands stroked over his broad chest with a smile.

“C’mon darlin’, sit on the floor for me.” He said softly and you nodded compliantly.

You sat on the floor, a little way from the sofa and you couldn’t help but cover your modesty as you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror across from you. Joel tutted as he sat himself behind you, he spread his legs and pulled you back until you were flush against him.

“Look at you,’ Joel breathed, turning your face to look at the both of you in the mirror. “Look at how beautiful you look for me, spread your pretty little legs for me.” He held the tops of your thighs to gently pull your legs up, he stroked down your leg and pushed them open at your knees.

You wanted to close your legs, you wanted to look away but Joel had you captivated, you caught his gaze in the reflection opposite you and you smiled softly at the man.

“Don’t be shy, baby girl, you’re so beautiful, you should see yourself as I touch you.” He breathed against your neck before he peppered soft kisses there.

Your cheeks were glowing and any words you wanted to say had died long ago in your throat, you were completely hypnotised by the older male. You watched intently as his large hands stroked over your body, his fingers lightly danced over your inner thighs and you couldn’t help the way your body shook under his gentle touches.

“Stay still for me, princess.” He cooed with a soft laugh.

“C-can’t… Need you so bad and you’re teasing me.” You whined petulantly.

“No patience, huh?” He asked, nipping at your neck with a smile when you gasped.

“Joel! Please!!” You huffed as his fingers ghosted over where you wanted them the most.

You couldn’t help the way your legs instinctively spread further at his teasing fingertips which caused the older male to let out a breathy laugh.

“Atta girl, you get the idea. You wanna watch my fingers so bad, watch how they’re gonna play with your cunt.” He whispered lowly into your ear which caused your body to shudder.

Joel kept his eyes locked onto yours in the mirror’s reflection as his fingers finally fell to where you needed them most. He brushed his fingers through your damp slit, collecting your apparent arousal on them and he cocked a brow at you in the mirror.

“Hm,” he hummed happily. “This all for me, darlin’?”

You nodded weakly, just a small gasp escaping from your parted lips as Joel’s thick digits finally settled on your throbbing clit. He began to move his fingers in small circles and you were caught, entirely captivated and at his will, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the reflection unfolding in front of you.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you knew you should be ashamed, should close your legs and cover your modesty but Joel had rewired your brain; him and his stupid hands. His perfect, thick and magical hands. The hands that almost had you shaking already.

“You like that, sweetheart? Like watching my fingers play with your clit?” He asked smoothly, his breath fanning against your neck as he stared at you in the mirror.

You opened your mouth but the only sound that slipped from your lips was a shaky moan which just egged Joel on further; his fingers started to circle your sensitive bundle of nerves quicker and you felt your stomach start to flutter and tense.

He kept that same, smug smirk plastered over his face as he effortlessly sped his fingers up, he occasionally let his lips drop down and kiss at the sensitive skin of your neck. Your head began to lull back as Joel’s fingers worked quickly, to edge you closer to your release but he simply tutted at you.

“Nope, baby girl, you need to watch yourself as I make you cum, need to watch you shaking for me as you cum for me.” He whispered.

You forced your head upright, the overwhelming pleasure making your limbs feel heavy. Joel dipped his fingers lower so he could insert two into you, albeit slightly awkwardly but it was enough, you could feel his thick digits stroking your spongy walls.

With every move of his fingers, the heel of his palm nudged against your clit; the room was filled with your breathy moans, Joel’s soft encouragements and the obscene squelching of your wet pussy.

“J-Joel, I’m not gonna last. Feels, fuck.” You whimpered, your fingers clawing at the flesh on Joel’s legs. “Feels so fucking good, fuck.” You cursed.

“Atta girl, cum for me; look at me in the mirror, look into my eyes as I make you cum.” He growled possessively.

You nodded, your mouth hung agape and just as Joel curled his fingers upwards, you felt yourself clench around him. He removed his fingers from inside you and went to quickly rub over your clit as you shook through your orgasm. You felt your stomach curl as your walls clenched and then you felt the first few spurts of squirt leave your body, hearing the soft splashing noise as it hit the floor.

“Oh fuck, Joel — I’m, I’m sorry. I’ve never done that before. I’ll clean it up.” You breathed, closing your legs in embarrassment.

“Don’t you dare.” He smirked. “You don’t even realise how hot that is.”

Your cheeks flushed out of embarrassment and you smiled at the older male in the mirror, dropping your legs once again and seeing the mess you had made. No man before had ever made you feel as good as Joel did, your mind began to race just how amazing he would feel if he was in a better position and you weren’t sure if you would even be able to take it.

“Now,” Joel smiled over your shoulder, nipping at the flesh playfully. “Why don’t you sit in my lap, facing the mirror so you can see my cock sliding in and out of your tight pussy?” He challenged with a raised brow.

You nodded dumbly, you honestly couldn’t believe this was your friend, the charming gentleman who would help elderly people at the store, the one that plays gently with his niece; yet here he was, dominant and filthy.

You moved out of the way so Joel sit with his back against the sofa more and close his legs, he gave his throbbing cock and few strokes with the same hand he had inside of you moments ago. You couldn’t help but stare again, you were captivated and completely mesmerised by him; it was intoxicating.

You moved once again so you could position yourself, hovering above Joel’s cock, he held the base of his member to guide it into your tight hole and then he squeezed your hips roughly. Your eyes fluttered closed as Joel lowered you into his lap, his length felt impossibly long and thick, you could feel your walls stretching around him until you were completely bottomed out on him.

“Joel, fuck, so—“ you breathed out. “So big, Jesus.”

“I prefer being called Joel, but hey, I’ll respond to Jesus.” He teased, squeezing your hips. “So tight baby girl, so good for me.” He muttered, urging you to rise before sinking down again.

You rolled your eyes at the male but started a steady rhythm, lifting yourself and sitting back down continuously; Joel felt incredible, better than anyone you had been with before, with every time you lowered yourself, you could feel the thick tip of his cock nudge against your g-spot, you felt like you were seeing stars. Completely cock drunk on the older male.

“I can’t keep this up, my legs are shaking already and I feel like I’m gonna cum again.” You whispered, looking at Joel’s blissful, pleasured face.

“Come on, just a little bit more for me, just a bit more.” He groaned as he took his hands to hold onto your tits once again.

You shook your head, took one of his hands and wrapped it around your throat. “Like this.” You instructed.

“Fuck.” He groaned. “You’re trouble, darlin’.” He smirked and gently squeezed your throat as you continued to ride him.

You clenched around him in response, soft moans falling from your parted lips. Joel used his other hand to find your clit once again, his calloused fingers circling it expertly. You watched his fingers again in the mirror and that’s all it took; your eyes drank in the erotic scene. The older males hand around your throat, his fingers playing with your clit and his cock plunging in and out of your hole. You sank into his lap and circled your hips as you came around him, with a wrecked moan.

“Good girl, good girl, good girl.” Joel cooed in your ear, the praise sending shocks through you as you rode out your orgasm.

Joel released your throat and removed his fingers from your oversensitive clit as he let you regain your composure once again. He gently got you off his lap as you got your breath back.

“Let me sort this out.” You smirked, wrapping your hand around his cock.

“Hmm?” Joel smirked.

You spread his legs, and knelt between them and without another word, you sucked the males length into your mouth, sinking down until it hit the back of your throat.

Joel let out an animalistic groan and instinctively wrapped his fingers into your hair to steady himself from bucking up into your mouth. He looked at the reflection in front of him; his hair-covered chest was already heaving with effort as you started to bob your head in his lap. And then there was your body; your perfect body, with all its curves and lines, he watched as your ass moved with each bob and every now and then, he could catch a glimpse of your wet pussy.

You sank your mouth lower until your nose was buried in the thatch of dark hair at the base of his cock, your senses were filled with Joel, he scent was heady and intoxicating but even amongst all of that; you could taste yourself on the male, normally it would make your stomach turn but with him, you couldn’t get enough. You were eager to please him and you worked your mouth quicker, wrapping a hand around the base to move in sync with your mouth.

“I’m gonna cum, fuck, please don’t stop that, please don’t stop.” The older male moaned, his words almost sounding like a pleading whimper.

His fingers tightened in your hair as you pulled your mouth off with a pop. You looked up at the male through your lashes and flashed him a devilish grin.

“Cum on my face.” You stated bluntly as you stroked him quicker.

Joel was left speechless, he was dumbfounded as he watched you stick your tongue out, waiting to receive his load. You stroked him, your thumb brushing over the tip of his cock and that’s all he needed, his fingers still tangled in your head as his cock twitched; thick ropes of his cum hitting your tongue, painting your cheeks and chin.

You smirked at him and swallowed down his load with a soft moan. Joel’s head fell back onto the sofa and you sat back on your heels, face a total mess and feeling sticky with sweat all over.

“Fuck me.” Joel groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. “That was…”

“Unexpected?” You offered up with a soft laugh.

Joel laughed and looked back up at you, his cock twitched as he watched his load dribble down your face.

“Let me get you a cloth.” He laughed and kissed the top of your head before leaving the room.

He returned shortly after, as you were wiping your face and regaining some decorum, he put his mirror back up on the wall.

“How ‘bout we both go shower and then I actually teach you how to play that damned song? And how ‘bout this time, you don’t get distracted as easily on my fingers, hm?” He teased.

“Ugh, you’re the worst. Maybe don’t have such nice hands?” You retorted, pushing past him to run upstairs.

Maybe it was time for you to find a new guitar teacher.

———

#joel miller #joel x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal

[hobbylobbyy]

Okay! How about a Lucifer x male (or gn if you’re more comfortable) reader in a platonic fic? Reader is like a servant who helps Lucifer through depresso days

A/N: This sounds like a really nice friendship dynamic, I’m rlly happy I get to write it!

Also btw you’re an imp for the sake of not knowing what a duck is

Coping Methods

Summary: It’s been a few months since Lilith left Lucifer and he’s been taking it about as well as you think he would. He can barely get out of bed until you manage to coax him into a fun activity to ease his mind.

Platonic Lucifer x Male!Reader

Nobody expected Lilith to leave. Maybe that’s what made it worse when she did.

She didn’t leave anything behind either, not her clothes, not her shoes, not even a single letter.

Every being in that castle fell into a deep depression, it just felt so gloomy without her there. Though, it hit the Morningstar’s the hardest.

Charlie had moved out nearly a month after Lilith’s disappearance, claiming she wanted to find herself and have her own independence rather than rely on her father for the rest of her life.

Lucifer, however, barely even left the castle, let alone his own room. Very few people were allowed near him at the time, only his personal servants, and you just happened to be one of them.

Today was one of those days where Lucifer couldn’t even bring himself to get out of bed, so you found yourself outside his door, hesitating to knock.

You couldn’t deny that you were terrified, but you had to make sure the king was okay, it was your duty as one of his personal servants.

You took a moment to collect yourself before knocking a few times.

It took a moment before he answered, “Who is it..?” The way he sounded so fragile almost broke apart of you, not once in your thousands of years of working for him have you heard him sound so vulnerable.

“It’s me, sir.” You replied, twiddling with your thumbs.

The door creaked open with a blur of golden magic, no doubt his own.

You stepped in and closed the door behind you, knowing that he’d prefer if nobody saw him in this state.

“Why are you here?” He asked, not looking at you as he curled into a ball on his humongous bed.

“Nobody has seen or heard from you all day, sir,” You started, making your way over to the edge of his bed but not daring to step any closer, both out of respect for him and fear for your safety, “We needed to know that you were still alive.”

“Alright, well, you’ve seen it now, haven’t you?” He asked rhetorically, “Just leave and take the day off for all I care, I-I just want to sit here for a little bit.”

“Sir..” You started, keeping your voice firm, “As your servant, I respect all your wishes, but as your friend… I will have to deny you this one.”

Before he could respond, you continued going, “In fact, I’m going to have to request that you stand up for me” you knew you were definitely going to get in trouble for this, whether by him or by one of your superiors.

“A-Are you trying to command the king of hell?” He asked, “You are nothing but my servant, I.. I don’t have many friends right now..”

You weren’t going to stop so soon though, your persistence was what got you this job in the first place, “Sir, I’m not trying to command you, I am just asking that you at least sit up and look at me”

It took him a second but he groaned in defeat as if he was a small child. He sat up, letting you see just how much he’d been crying. His hair which was usually neat was now a mess of curls and his face seemed redder than usual.

“I’ve done what you asked.. Is this all you wanted?” He asked.

“No, I actually wanted to request that you.. Uhm…” You had to think of an excuse for what you wanted to do first, “Could you accompany me to your workshop for a moment..? This is the only time I’ll ask you to do this, I just… N-Need to know where you’d like everything to go so I can clean!”

You commended yourself for being quick to think of an excuse, you knew how much the king liked his neatness.

“…There’s no need to clean it” Well, that stunned you.

“S-Sir?” You stuttered, “It definitely needs to be cleaned, just.. please?”

“I already know where everything is, just leave it be” Lucifer waved his hand dismissively before flopping back onto his bed, gripping a nearby pillow.

Well this won’t do. You needed him to get out of his bed. You needed him to actually do something.

“Sir, please, just accompany me to the workshop and I’ll leave you alone” You pleaded.

He sat still for a moment before shifting his head towards you, “…You’ll leave me alone for the rest of the week if I accompany you, do you hear me..?”

You nodded enthusiastically, “Yes sir! I-I can totally do that!” Not only did it give you an excuse to just do nothing for the rest of the week, your plan might actually work.

“Alright, just let me get ready first” He yawned as he sat up and threw his legs over the edge of the bed.

You quickly left the room for his privacy, as much as you loved your gracious king, you didn’t love him that much.

He left the room almost immediately, not having bothered to clean up his hair or the bags under his eyes. He knew that nobody in their right mind would point it out anyway.

“Just so you know.. I’m going to leave as soon as you’re done in there” Lucifer said.

“That’s alright with me, sir,” You flash a grin, “I’m just glad you got out of that messy room of yours”

“Watch it.” He rolls his eyes.

You chuckle softly as you approach his workshop, but you’re surprised once you open its doors.

The workshop that was usually a mess with his inventions and dreams and even dioramas of his theme park was now barren, only holding the pictures on the walls and his work bench.

“Wow, would you look at that..” Lucifer started, “Guess you don’t need me anymore, I mean, no mess to clean up!”

But you’re not gonna let him off the hook so easily.

“Uh, sir?” You smirked, “Could you at least spare me one request before I stop bothering you for the week?”

Lucifer groaned childishly, obviously not wanting to spend another moment out of the bed that he once shared with his love.

“Fine, fine, I guess it’s the least I could do since you so desperately wanted me over here” He conceded, walking with you to his workbench.

“So, what do you want?” He asked.

You grinned before pulling out some supplies from your pockets, “So, you know how made that thing on Earth before you fell? What was it called… Cuck..? I-I don’t know, but it made that quacking noise”

“A duck?” Lucifer cut you off.

“Ah, precisely!” You nodded.

“What.. What does that have anything to do with this?” He asked.

“Well, Mr. Lucifer, my request is that..” You paused for dramatic effect, “You recreate that! I wanna see what it looks like, and you seem to have pride in the fact that you made them, so maybe it’ll make you feel better!”

Lucifer paused for a moment before laughing. It might’ve been aimed at you rather than with you, but you’d gotten him to laugh at least.

“A-I’m sorry- Is that really all that you want me to do? Make a duck?” He said as the laughter died down.

“Yup! That’s what I want!” You nodded, making him chuckle once more.

“Alright, alright, fine” He sighed, “I’ll make you a duck, but then you let me wallow in self-pity, mkay?”

“Sounds fair!” You responded.

He didn’t say anything back to you as he started to work. You could see sparks flying as he melded metal together, shaping it into the form of a small creature.

“Pass me my yellow paint, would you?” He asked, pointing in the direction of his paints.

You hummed, grabbing his yellow paint for him and setting it down next to him on the table.

“Oh, and the black paint too” He said.

You huffed, “Couldn’t have told me that while I was getting the yellow?” But you got it for him regardless, wrapping your tail around it and ignoring the cold paint as it splashed on you when you brought it over.

He didn’t respond, too focused on painting it perfectly.

Then, the sparks and painting stopped, he smiled softly at his little creation.

“Here it is,” He said, picking it up with gentle hands, “This is what a duck looks like”

You looked at it in awe. It looked so.. cute. It looked so different from all the life in Hell, like it didn’t pose any threats at all.

You took a moment before nodding, “Alright, that’s uh… All I wanted” you smiled before standing up.

“I’ll lead you back to your room and you won’t have to worry about me for the rest of the week” You continued to speak before he cut you off.

“Actually…” He said, “Stay, I think I might need your help grabbing supplies for me while I make some more of these”

You took a moment to process what he said before your eyes lit up with excitement, “Really?!” You had actually been successful in getting the king to enjoy something!

“Really” He chuckled.

A/N: I hope this lived up to your expectations. I noticed too late that the reader doesn’t really have a gender specified but I guess that just means you can depict them however you want to!

Look at him :)

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