Omg Yes Same ! 😭😂

𝐕𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧!𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐚 - Part One | Part Two

➛ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Tomura was researching how to flirt with girls but gets sidetracked.

➛ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: masturbation, edging, feminine pronouns

➛ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 463

➛ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: The scenario made me giggle but atp I just need to write an actual fic 'cause it's a follow up to the last Virgin!Tomura piece I wrote. This is barely edited - be gentle.

Virgin!Tomura binge-watching romance animes in an attempt to find the best way to approach you. No, no, no. Most of these required touching. Hand holding, wall leaning, brushing hair out of the girl's face... biting, for some reason. With one hand, he scrolled through episodes of random romance scenes, trying to picture the two of you in these scenarios, while the other scratched idly at his neck. None of these were what he wanted to do to get his message across.

Virgin!Tomura turning his research from romance anime to animated eroges - something he was somewhat familiar with. It was a video game. He knew video games. What he didn't realize was that the eroge that he had chosen to play at random had a character that looked eerily similar to you. Tomura nearly decayed his mouse when he saw that character come on screen. His eyes rake over the character as he moved the mouse to the "unclothe" option, and then they widen as the character was bare before him.

Virgin!Tomura finding the "scene selector" option as fast as possible and clicking the first option. Heat rushed to his face as he watched your doppelganger ride the faceless main character that he had named after himself. He clicked the next scene and his cock twitched in his pants as he watched her suck his character's dick. Muffled moans poured from his computer's speakers but he didn't have the strength to turn them down. He was transfixed. This could be you and him.

Virgin!Tomura hastily jerking his pants and boxers down until his cock sprung free into the cold air of his room. He gripped himself tightly with one hand and navigated the mouse to the next scene button with the other. An involuntary groan escaped him as he watched your double pump his character's cock slowly. He wondered how you would do that... were you fast? Slow? Teasing? Would you use two hands? Your boobs? He increased the speed of the scene.

Virgin!Tomura not even getting a full stroke in before warm ropes of cum cover his fist. He got off to just thinking about what you would do to him.

Virgin!Tomura growing frustrated with his early release and fucking himself faster until his hips were bucking into his fist. He can't cum that early if he was with you - when he was with you - so he stopped just shy of his next release, his thumb hovering over the slit on the head of his throbbing cock.

Virgin!Tomura spending nearly fifteen minutes edging himself until he accidentally clicked the next scene. This angle looked too much like you as your double rode him with her back to the screen. He couldn't hold back any longer. He spilled onto his already soiled hand in one wave of pleasure while another load arched upward and splattered onto the desk in front of him in another. He was panting by the time his cock grew soft, your name coming out in a breathy whisper. If getting this sort of release was possible by just imagining you fucking him, he wondered what it was like for you to actually be there with him.

A bunch of pixels on the screen wasn't enough.

friends please do this picrew with me

just gonna tag a bunch of folks is this how starting a tag game works 🤔

@sunkingwrites @aquadenks @strawberrystepmom @tired-biscuit @medusashima @opportunity-strikes and also anyone who wants to!

also also you don't have to i am just procrastinating on writing a report

Sanctuary of Nightmares PT2

Platonic SB x GN Child Reader

Chapter Selection

Prev Chapter / Next Chapter

Tw: Mentions Of Abuse, Slight Blood

A/n: ayo wtf I did not expect any of y'all to actually enjoy this. 300 notes on the first part? Fucking insane. Anyway, I didn't sleep last night so guess what? Part two is out today baBY. Enjoy.

You continued to feel suffocated in this environment as you followed the bot through the crowds. You hadn't ever been anywhere this loud before, let alone with so many people in it. You felt wildly out of place, that at any moment someone would point you out as a stranger, that they'd notice that you didn't belong and they'd kick you out.

But no one did.

All seemed too worried about their own lives to notice you, even as you followed the bot with a flashing yellow light still on its head.

It led you through what you believed was a theater, though not one currently in use, before you found yourself right next to a huge play area. One absolutely crawling with toddlers and younger kids alike. The security bot continued to move towards a person who, without question, opened the door to the play area. You looked up to the person a moment, unsure of making any type of movement. It was after they gestured forward that you decided it best to enter. With apprehensive movements you made your way in, the door quickly shutting behind you. You turned back to see both the bot and human walk off, leaving you to your own devices.

You didn't move for a while, instead taking in what was happening around you. Kids crawled all over the jungle gym, their screams of joy ringing loudly in your ears. Across the room you saw running children and little play areas with plenty of toys. There was an art station, a ball pit, practically any fun activity a little kid could dream of was here. Yet you didn't feel like it was a good idea to step into the madness. No, you didn't belong there. Not among the laughing faces or the happy smiles. You didn't belong here- you shouldn't be here! No no, this was all wrong-

Your thoughts were interrupted by a terrifying surprise as, out of what you belived was literally nowhere, a certain jester dropped down in front of you.

"Hel-LO little friend! What are you doing over here?! I didn't see you come in!" He excitedly spoke, his face mere inches from yours. You jumped away from him, though your eyes never turned away. You stared in absolute silence with a look of clear terror on your face after having been spooked so badly.

"Friend? Can you hear me? Can ya?" He repeatedly asked as he continued to come closer. You leaned further away while keeping your feet planted in case your moving would upset the bot. You took a second to let your brain catch up before you slowly nodded.

"Well that's great news! I don't know how I missed y- Oh! I know, I know! One of the staff must have let you in! You didn't go down the slide! Of course, of course!" He nearly bounced with energy, full of joy after having solved his little puzzle. You continued to stay put as you watched the jester celebrate his little achievement.

"There's so much to do! So much to catch up on! You're late but that's okay! That just means you have to do everything faster-!..." He suddenly stopped his excited rantings, his body falling still as he stared at you. You felt your heart drop when he did so as a spike of fear overtook you.

Did you break it-?

"YOU'RE HURT!" He suddenly screamed and in reaction you quickly covered your face, the roaring sound shocking every sense you had. Suddenly you became light, your body pulled from the ground. You let out a whimper, terror rushing through your veins as your hands remained covering your face.

"WEEWOO WEEWOO! AMBULANCE COMING THROUGH!" The animatronic screamed as he quickly moved. His agility was a feat to behold as he effortlessly navigated around screaming children that all wanted his attention. He held you high above his head and quickly managed to make his way across the play area. It was a few seconds into this walk that you slowly uncovered your eyes, the sudden shock of fear only continuing to rise as you realized how high off the ground you were. You then clung to the animatronic for dear life, afraid that you might drop at any second. He carried you to a small corner of the playroom across the ball pit where a make-shift doctor office was made, though it seemed more like a pretend one than a real one. It had little chairs, a table, and plenty of typical medical supplies that were all brightly colored with childish designs covering them. There was also a lady fully dressed as a doctor sitting in the only big chair. She didn't look over to the noise Sundrop was making, then again she must have been accustomed to it by now. 

"Ms. Doctor! I have a patient! They require immediate help!" The excitable bot quickly explained as he placed you on the table next to her.

"Thank you Sunny, I'll be with them in a moment. Why don't you go hang out in the art corner? I heard a few kids needed more glitter glue" she suggested as she typed the last few sentences into a computer.

"A glitter glue shortage!?!" He shouted in a shocked tone before bounding off, likely to do what was asked of him. 

You sat with tense posture, the adrenaline spiking through your veins after that terrifying experience having been enough to skyrocket your anxiety. You were only allowed a few secodns to calm before the woman you knew only as Ms. Doctor finally turned away from her computer to look at you, a soft expression found on her face.

"Well sweetheart, where's it hurt?" She asked as she scooted her wheeled chair closer to you. Feeling a severe case of emotional whiplash from the bouncey yelling of the sun animatronic to the calm care of the doctor caused you to blink a few times as you adjusted to the difference. Even so your body once again leaned away as you were entirely distrusting of this stranger. Noticing this she grew a concerned look.

"Do you want me to call Sun back over?" She asked to which you very quickly shook your head. With that answer she let out a soft sigh. Not out of annoyance or anger but instead with a tired expression.

"Okay...will a sundrop candy help?" She asked as she reached into one of her many pockets before pulling out a small sphere-shaped candy wrapped in clear and golden plastic. You stared at the sweet treat for a moment, your body slowly calming as you looked between her and the candy. 

You very rarely ever had candy so any chance you could you had always taken some. This time though you remained still as you debated whether or not to take it. You didn't know the full intentions of the doctor nor why she was so calm after Sundrops excited yelling. It didn't take long before you lost your resolve, the sweet treat too much of a temptation to your sugar deprived life. With a nod from you she handed the candy over, your eyes following it the whole way. You almost didn't believe it was real when it landed in your hands, let alone when you unwrapped it. It smelled of lemon, a flavor you don't think you've ever had before. It was a hard candy too, a type of candy you've had very few of in your life. So you happily ate the candy, your comfort levels clearly rising as it began to melt on your tongue. The doctor gave you a small smile, seemingly happy to have calmed you.

"Now can you tell me where your boo-boos are?" She asked again, her voice momentarily pulling you from your bliss which raised your guard once again, though not as much as before since she didn't seem as dangerous now.

You pointed to your legs, her eyes finally trailing down and noticing the slightly torn fabric of your pants along with the bit of crimson that had clung to them. Her face twisted into concerned confusion, the jaggedness of the cuts something she wasn't expecting. The whole place was padded to hell, how had you managed to hurt yourself that badly?

Then again kids your age always amazed her with the myriad of ways they somehow always managed to hurt themselves.

"Alright, let's get you fixed up"

-

It was a few minutes into the bandaging and she had already given you three sundrops since you were a particularly skittish kid. She had managed to get wrapping around one leg, though not without some struggle as you pulled away at any sudden spike of pain. It was only after covering your first leg that she even realized your hands were cut up too, a fact that only made this slow process all the more agonizing. It was just after the second bandage though that a sudden call came to her phone. She sat up, quickly finishing the last part of the wrapping before handing you yet another Sundrop.

"I'll just be a minute" she quickly spoke before sliding away to her desk to answer the phone.

"Daycare, Ms. Zell speaking" she answered into the phone, the buzzing of a voice on the other side not heard by you over the sounds of joyful children.

"Again? Alright, I'll be there as fast as I can...yes I know I-...fine, but I'm going to need more people...alright, alright I'm coming" she then hung up the phone, a deep sigh leaving her before she turned back to you. She stared at you a moment, a look of contemplation on her face as she did so. It was after this moment that she slightly turned back to her desk before hitting a small button. It was barely a few seconds later when a certain sun turned up.

"You called!" He yelled, his voice startling you as it came from above your head. You turned to look only to see the jester hanging upside down from the netting of the daycare. The doctor looked up, her face more serious than it was before as she stood from her chair, grabbing a few tools along the way.

"There was an accident at Roxy Raceway again, they need me down there. Can you finish patching them up? They just need some bandages on their hands and they should be fine"

"Of course Ms. Doctor!" Sundrop spoke before jumping from his spot on the netting. Surprisingly there was no loud thunk as the metal animatronic hit the ground, as if he almost didn't weigh anything at all.

You did not like this arrangement. You liked the doctor, she was calm and it was easy to predict her movements. But this neurotic child's toy? It was impossible to tell what he'd do next.

Even in your discomfort you said nothing. You didn't believe you had any power to change this decision.

"Thanks, I should be back soon- oh! And uh, one last thing" she stopped herself from leaving for a final moment and pulled out a few extra pieces of candy before handing them to the robot.

"These should help while you're patching them up" and with that she walked off in a hurry, though not as fast as she would have liked as she didn't have the same ability as Sundrop when it came to swerving around running children. You kept your eyes on her as she left, almost hoping she'd turn around. That she would regret leaving you here, that she'd think twice about it, that she'd just turn the wheel back around and-...

She wasn't going to come back was she

"Alright! It's doctor time!" The bot happily announced as he grabbed a nearby doctor coat. It was mostly similar to the one the doctor wore except for the sun logo sloppily drawn in marker on all of the pockets.

"I am doctor Sundrop and I'm here to assist! Now, can I see your boo-boos?" He spoke in a highly overdramatic voice, his posture rigid and his hands behind his back. Though even in his attempt to seem serious he were very easily seen through, especially as small cracks in this serious facade broke through with short snickers.

Now, while he was still rather too over the place for your liking you did have to admit, his get-up was a little silly and now that he wasn't so incredibly in your face his child-like behavior was almost comforting. You hadn't ever met someone so boisterous and over the top before and while it was still incredibly anxiety-inducing, it also pulled on the reason that you daydreamed about the PizzaPlex in the first place.

To be a kid, to play, to sing, to mess around until playtime was over. You wanted nothing more than that. To be allowed to be a kid.

Yet faced with the possibility of it you hesitated...

Once again receiving no answer from you as you kept you hands close to your chest, Sundrop lost a little bit of his bubbliness. His posture fell and his hands along with it. Even though he didn't really have an expression you gathered that he was either confused or saddened. That was until he suddenly sprung back to life. 

If he was any more cartoonish you wouldn't have been surprised if a light bulb had appeared on his head.

"Oh! Right!" He spoke with a raised finger to further insinuate that an idea had formed before he then turned back to the desk and grabbed one of the left behind candies. He then quickly turned back to you with three candies outstretched.

"You like these right? Here! Just for you! I can even get more if you want!" He happily exclaimed, his face spinning with excitement. You stared wide-eyed as he handed you the treats, the sweets almost irresistible now that you knew what they tasted like. You looked between Sundrop and the candies before slowly taking one. You remained cautious though, just in case this was a trick. Once you did so his already excited mood skyrocketed. He believed he had made progress with you.

"More! You can have more! Do you want a fizzy faz too?! You like treats! I. Can get you more!" He swayed and slightly jumped as he talked. He seemed unable to stay in one place for too long when he was excited. Your eyes widened in surprise as he continued to outstretch the candies towards you. You hadn't expected to be allowed to have that many. You took the other two gratefully and with a look of astonishment that only furthered Sundrop's joyful state.

"Great! I'm glad you like them! Can I fix your boo-boo now? Can I? Can I!?" His hype level didn't seem to have a limit, though his excitability was growing on you. So, placing the candies next to you, you nodded, slowly outstretching your scratched-up hands to the animatronic. 

"Oh no! You had a big bad fall didn't you? Don't worry! Doctor Sundrop will make it all better!" He joyfully spoke before practically throwing himself into the wheeled chair of the doctor before him. Granted he didn't entirely fit as his legs bent and his head was way taller than the chair, but he did anyway.

Even though it looked incredibly funny

-

Due to the nature of hands you couldn't just put a bandaid on your scratches, so he had to use wrap-around bandages to help cover the cuts. Luckily he seemed at least a little experienced with fixing injuries as he knew where everything was and how to do it. He kept you distracted the entire time with little jokes, even more of the Sundrop candies, and, when you would get especially anxious, funny gestures. It didn't take long at all before you were fixed up. In fact, he was just about to finish the second hand when you let out a sharp wince. Something that most definitely shouldn't have happened considering he was no longer near your cut up hands, the end of the wrapping stopping at your wrists just to keep them more secure. He suspected there were more injuries so he went to pull up your sleeve. He didn't get that far though as you quickly snatched your hand away, an almost panicked look taking over your face. Something that was quickly mirrored in Sun's posture and he assumed he must have really hurt you.

"Sorry! I-I didn't- uh- candy! You want more candy?! I can do more tricks! Sorry sorry I didn't mean to hurt you!" He bumbled over sounds like a panicked child, his words genuine as he quickly attempted to find anything to make you feel better. Once you saw your panic in his gestures you immediately calmed, realizing that your panic only induced his own. You felt guilty in a way, as if you had caused him stress. That being said, you still didn't give your hands back to him. You didn't want him to see, you didn't want anyone to see. 

It only ever made things worse when someone else knew...

Seeing your calmed posture he calmed as well, though that only left confusion in his body language.

"Did I hurt you?" He asked, now unsure of his assumptions. When you slowly shook your head it only served to confuse him more. He tried to figure it out, to understand why you had pulled away, but he was truly at a loss.

"Can I see your hands again?" He asked with the utmost curiosity, only to receive another slow shake of the head.

"I-I promise I'll be gentle! I won't hurt you! I'll even pinkie swear on it!" He quickly spoke before outstretching his pinky to you. He was attempting to get answers to solve the sudden mystery before him, his hightened sense of curiousity not something easily dissuaded. Not to mention that if it was another injury he wanted to help make it better.

You thought on it a moment, his attempts to gain your trust having wilted down your initial apprehension towards him. Dispite his first impression he had a way of calming you down, of knowing exactly what you needed when you needed it. He had been gental with your cuts and had tried to keep your mind off them throught his time fixing them. Maybe...

Maybe it wouldn't be bad to let them see.

Maybe he really did want to help...

Slowly, and fighting your paranoid thoughts the entire way, you pinky promised with him, an action that once again caused bounciness in him. He did try to keep it contained as to not further harm your hand but it was still very visable. After you pulled away from the pinkie promise you kept your hand out so he could continue. Carefully and as gently as he's ever done anything he pulled up the sleeve you had attempted to hide behind.

He noticed a few bruises at first, a lot of them actually. He began to wonder what type of fall you must have had to gain this many. What he found most unfortunate though was the fact that he couldn't help with bruises. There were no amount of bandaids he could cover you with that would help with those. He was already saddened by this so by the time he realized what you had actually been trying to hide he practically froze.

Bruised onto your tiny body was a handprint. One too big to be a child's, one too small to be an animatronic. It was clear by the deep color that harm had been intended in whatever grip had caused it and the thought alone brought a horrible feeling throught Sundrops system. It was after noticing it that he looked back over the other brusis, now noticing fingerprints in a few of them.

The thought of what those meant brought a sickening, dreadful feeling through his wiring and it came with his own horrible memeories. Of losing control, of being forced into his moon state when he wasn't ready and not being able to keep the kids around him safe. Of failing to protect, failing to care for...

It was then that he looked back up at you, his permanent smile not allowing him to show the devastation that ran through him, a shock of pain that began to mess with his coding.

He would protect you, he would keep you away from the harmful humans that had done this to you.

No matter the cost

Skin Hunger - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

There's no such thing as a good night at work when you work in the world's most infamous brothel for monsters, but your night takes a turn for the worse when you find yourself serving drinks to visiting half-vampire Shigaraki Tomura. You don't mean to catch his interest, and you don't mean to start a conversation. You definitely don't mean to get him drunk. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Chapter 1

The ringing of one of the dozens of bells on the wall in your boss’s office startles you out of the reverie you’ve fallen into. It isn’t much of a reverie – you were daydreaming about getting out of here, like always – but at the sound of the bell, you snap to attention. You know what a ringing bell means, even before your boss looks up at you from behind his desk and gives the order. “Suite Twelve needs a mop-up. Get to it.”

You check the floor plan out of habit, and your heart sinks. “Suite Twelve is still in use.”

“And? Clearly they aren’t ready to let the party end, and they’re paying by the hour.” Overhaul shrugs. “It’s not your concern. All you need to be concerned with is not interrupting, and we both know you’re capable of that.”

You bow your head. “Yes, sir.” The warlock looks away, back down to the grimoire he’s studying, and you risk another question. “Who was in there tonight?”

“That’s Chrono’s concern, not mine,” Overhaul says. “Why don’t you go find out?”

You know a dismissal when you hear it. “Yes, sir,” you say again, and you step out of Overhaul’s office, your glamour already settling over you.

A glamour is small magic, and as the lesser variety of half-fey, it’s all you’re capable of – but it’s enough to make your job easier, and to make you Overhaul’s go-to for dealing with disasters in progress. Other maids are obtrusive, no matter how hard they try not to be, and going into a room with a session in progress means risking their lives in addition to the worker’s. But your faint glamour allows you to slip in and out of the rooms unnoticed, clearing away the messes and the injuries. And the evidence. There’s always a lot of evidence. The patrons of the inhuman world’s most infamous brothel find themselves here for a reason, and it’s not because they’re careful.

You learned one side of the story in school in the human world, when you could pass as human, but Overhaul insisted that you learn the rest. You could recite it by heart by now. Humans have always outnumbered inhumans, but for thousands of years, the power held by inhumans – magic, physical strength, other natural gifts – was enough to allow them to act as they wished, without fear of retaliation. When human society advanced, that changed. The inhumans who could do so retreated to their own realms, but some inhumans are too intertwined with humanity to withdraw completely. Something had to be done to prevent their extinction.

The way Overhaul tells it, it was all his idea, two hundred years ago – creating a place for inhumans to satisfy their urges, contained away from humanity and outside of humanity’s control. You’re not sure if it was really his idea, but either way, it stuck. There are places like this one all across the world, in netherworlds and pocket dimensions, places where inhumans come to play or fight or fuck or feed. For some inhumans, in some cases, it’s all four.

Suite Twelve is on the fifth floor, and tonight it contains one of at least nine packs of werewolves. When you stop outside the door, you can hear them even through the soundproofing – human-sounding laughter and inhuman howls and the kind of noises that emanate from the rooms and suites every night of the year. It sounds like nothing you want anything to do with, but it’s the job. You raise your wrist, tapping your master rune against the locking rune on the door. It disables instantly, and you slip through the door without a sound.

You see instantly why one of the guests rang the bell for a clean-up. There’s a body on the floor – the body of one of the workers, a man you recognize only vaguely. He must be new. Then again, most of the workers aren’t here long enough for you to get to know them. You slip around the edges of the room, trusting your glamour, until you’re alongside the body. Legs askew, torso flayed open to the air, eyes wide and staring – sometimes the workers who die on the job have the luxury of an unexpected death, but this man saw it coming from kilometers away. Did he try to stop it? You lift one of his hands idly, checking for defensive wounds, and get one hell of a scare when his hand twitches in yours.

He’s alive. The worker is still alive, and your priorities shift in a heartbeat. This isn’t a corpse you can tip down the disposal trapdoor before you mop up the blood. Overhaul can heal any injury, even injuries as bad as this, which means you need to get the worker out of here and down to Overhaul’s study as soon as possible. But your glamour only covers you, and if the werewolves who mauled this guy half to death realize they didn’t finish the job, you’ll be in trouble, too. And there isn’t much time to solve the problem. If you wait too much longer, the worker will die right before your eyes.

If you had real magic, you’d apply your glamour to your voice and lull the werewolves into calmness, rendering them insensate to any noise the dying man might make as you drag him to the door, but you don’t have real magic. Charming seven werewolves is outside your abilities. Charming one dying man into staying still and quiet is within them. You whisper the instruction in his ear – stay quiet, stay still – and hook your hands under his armpits, dragging him across the floor and leaving a smear of blood in his wake.

There’s no way a party this large only had one worker with them. You force yourself to take a good look at the occupants of Suite Twelve, and in amongst the hulking, heavily-furred bodies of the werewolves, you spot human limbs, human skin. Strands of human hair woven through a wolf’s claws as it cups the back of the worker’s head. Human hands gripping one wolf’s shoulders, human legs hooked gingerly around its waist. At least three additional workers, and none of them are bleeding excessively. The part of you that’s human doesn’t like it, but the rest of you leaves without another look.

In the hallway, you call for help. Each floor of Asylum has a bouncer, hired specifically by Overhaul to deal with that floor’s usual patrons. “Rappa,” you call out. “Over here!”

Rappa’s footsteps are heavy as he comes down the hall towards you. “A fight?”

“Sorry,” you say. Even behind Rappa’s mask, you can tell he’s frowning. You’ve heard that when Overhaul hired him, he promised him a lot of fights to break up, but most of Asylum’s patrons are too frightened of the prospect of getting banned to fight much. “I’m supposed to mop up and the guy’s still alive. Can you take him to Overhaul?”

Rappa tilts his head, confused. “The boss can fix this?”

“If he gets to him in time.” You try to hold Rappa’s attention. It’s not easy. “I can’t get him there fast enough. You’re the only one who can save him.”

“He’s human. Why do you care?”

Your jaw clenches involuntarily, and you feel your glamour ripple. “I’m half-human,” you say. “So are you.”

Overhaul and his right-hand man are both pure human, extending their lives and augmenting their bodies with magic, but almost everyone else in Asylum’s management structure is a half-breed of some kind. Rappa is half-giant, and unlike you, he’s unambiguously proud of his inhuman heritage. Appealing to what he considers as the weak side of himself was a stupid move, but you’re getting desperate, and you try again. “If you help him, I’ll make sure you get the next fight, even if somebody else is in charge of the floor.”

You should have started with that. Rappa’s eyes light up. “Deal,” he says, and hoists the injured worker up, ignoring your requests to be careful. “Make sure it’s a good fight.”

You’ll get Rappa a fight to break up if you have to start one yourself, but you probably won’t have to. “It’s a full moon. All the fights are good.”

Rappa laughs and thunders off down the hall, leaving you to your actual job. You still have a mop-up in Suite Twelve, and possibly a worse one than you left, depending on what’s happened between your exit and right now. You call up your glamour again, confirming that it’s still intact, and tap the locking rune on the door to deactivate it once again. You might have saved somebody’s life, maybe, but that’s not your job here. Your real job is cleaning blood and bodily fluids off of every surface in Suite Twelve before they have time to set in. As the proprietor of the world’s oldest and most infamous inhuman oasis, your boss can tolerate a lot of things – but a mess isn’t one of them.

Most of the people who serve guests or work menial jobs in the oases are here as a last resort, and you’re no different. If you had somewhere else to be, you’d be there. You suppose you could have looked for work in another oasis, but when it comes down to it, you prefer the devil you know to the devil you don’t. You were born inside Asylum’s walls, the daughter of a worker and a faery guest, and although your mother scraped together the money to send you to boarding school in the human world, you’ve never had anywhere but Asylum to come back to. You coming back was a foregone conclusion. You could pass for human in childhood and adolescence, but in the last year or so, the truth’s begun to crawl its way out from beneath your skin. Asylum is your home. You can’t leave. And if you’re here, you might as well work.

No night in Asylum is easy, but full-moon nights are the worst, and the mop-up you’re called to do in Suite Twelve isn’t even close to the last task you’re called in to take care of. A patrilineal half-fey like you has next to no magical ability, but in Overhaul’s employ, you make use of all of it – glamour on your body to conceal you as you sneak in and out of the rooms and suites and hot springs, glamour on your voice to soothe tense guests until a bouncer or a member of Management can arrive to make amends more officially, spilling a drop or two of your own blood to distract an overwrought lich long enough to pry the worker it’s draining out of its grip. You get Rappa the fight he’s after – a brawl between two rival werewolf packs over a worker they both took a shine to – and as you’re helping clean up the mess, he gives you some news.

“Overhaul patched up the human you rescued,” he says, and for a brief moment, you feel better. “He’s already back to work.”

Feeling good doesn’t last. Good things don’t last in Asylum. You take a brief moment to wash your hands in the water of a hot-spring, then wander off to Room 309 on the demon floor. There’s been an orgy going on since the full moon broke the horizon in the farthest-eastern human time zone, and demon cum stains something awful.

You’ve heard from guests who’ve visited other oases that those oases have off-hours, but Asylum doesn’t. Asylum serves creatures of the night, so as long as it’s daylight somewhere on earth, Asylum will be open to receive them. When you asked Overhaul why, he pointed you towards the dictionary definition of the word ‘asylum’ – a place of refuge, a safe harbor. Then another book levitated off the shelf and dropped at your feet, shedding dust. Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.

You remember looking at it, confused. “Sir?”

“The other definition of the word,” Overhaul said. “They’re all mad here.”

It was a misquote, and you think the original is more accurate. We’re all mad here – Overhaul for building this place, the guests for coming to it, and you, for staying here instead of going somewhere, anywhere else.

The demon mop-up takes forever. By the time it’s done, you smell like smoke and sulfur, and there are still six hours left in the night. Chrono sends you to change into a clean uniform, then corrals you as you’re coming out of the servants’ quarters with wet hair. “Change of plans. You’re needed in the lounge.”

“What?” You know how to tend bar, sure – but not on a full moon night. “Why?”

Chrono doesn’t answer you, and you should know better than to ask questions. “Man the bar for the rest of the shift. You’ll receive instructions from Overhaul or myself if you’re needed elsewhere.”

You nod and set off, but Chrono grabs your arm again. “Change out of that uniform first. You’re front of house for now. Dress like it.”

The front of house uniform isn’t all that different than the uniform you wear on a nightly basis – just tighter and more modern, and with a mask of some kind over it. The higher-up somebody is in Overhaul’s organization, the more elaborate their mask is, but front-of-house wears simple half-masks, enough to match the aesthetic but not enough to obscure the face. You grab a simple black one on your way out of the servants’ quarters, tying it behind your head with a ribbon as you step into the lounge.

It’s empty, as usual. You’re not even sure why Overhaul keeps it open – most of Asylum’s guests don’t come here to drink, and the ones who do can order it brought to their rooms directly – but it’s been here as long as Asylum’s been standing, and just like the rest of Asylum, it’s never closed. Whoever was in charge before Chrono called you in left sort of a mess. Eight or nine dirty tankards, a sticky spill on one corner of the bar counter, and a solitary pickle balanced on top of an empty bottle of vodka. Given what you’ve been cleaning up all night, it could be a lot worse.

The cleaning goes quickly, and then you move on, filling out the restock sheet Chrono’s left for you underneath the ledger where you’d write guests’ orders, if there were any orders. An hour in, Room 512 calls for drinks – one Corpse Reviver, one Zombie, and three El Diablos – and you’re still working on them when the server arrives to bring them up. “Hey, make it snappy, huh? They’re not in a mood to wait.”

“I’m working on it.” You set down the El Diablos and start pouring shots of rum for the Zombie. “Is whoever’s in 512 actually undead, or do they just have a weird sense of humor?”

“Door number two. It’s one of those laughing demons.” Setsuno’s been working here at least as long as you have, but he looks unsettled behind his mask. “You know, the kind who want a performance.”

“I’m guessing the workers ordered the drinks, then?” You wait for Setsuno to confirm it. “Do you know which is the guest’s?”

“The Corpse Reviver,” Setsuno says. You strain the Zombie one-handed and go fishing for the components for the last drink. “Why?” “Are the workers holding up okay?” you ask. Setsuno looks blankly at you. “Did they seem scared or panicked at all?”

“Oh. Yeah. The youngest one looked pretty spooked.” Setsuno holds out his hand and the first four drinks fly from your end of the bar to settle onto his tray. “Are you going to be done with that last one any time this century?”

“Almost.” You’re trying to decide which of the components of the drink will be easiest to hide a glamour on. The gin? The Cointreau? The Lillet blanc? They’re all strong flavors, but demons aren’t easy to trick. It needs to look like a mistake, so that if you’re caught, it’ll reflect on you and not the workers. “Just a second –”

“Hey,” Setsuno protests, as you pluck a maraschino cherry out of a jar by the stem and wrap a glamour around it. “Does the boss know you’re putting spells on the guests?”

“They’re not spells.” Overhaul knows. In fact, he encourages it – your weak glamours, applied here and there, put the brakes on problems that would otherwise require management’s intervention before they can begin.  You drop the cherry in the glass and hold it out to Setsuno. “Here. Let me know if they need anything else.”

“Will do.” Setsuno glances around the lounge and sighs. “Man, I wish I had this gig. It’s a nice spot for a break.”

“You’re telling me. I used to nap here when I was little.”

Setsuno stares at you. “What?”

You shouldn’t have said that. You cringe, and Setsuno takes a step closer – but then another order unfolds itself on the bar counter, and you turn away, thankful for the distraction. When you look up again, there’s a different server waiting, and you breathe a sigh of relief. It’s not that you’re ashamed of growing up here. You just don’t want to spread it around.

Overhaul has strict rules about birth control amongst Asylum’s female workers, but with so much magic in play, things happen sometimes. Usually it results in an abortion – the workers, most of whom are human, want nothing to do with a half-human child – but every so often, a worker decides to keep the baby. The consequences of that depend on the inhuman parent. Werewolves, for instance, treat children they’ve sired with a worker the same as they’d treat children they sire with their mate, and no parent wants their child growing up in Asylum. Workers who get knocked up by werewolves usually leave, becoming part of the pack’s orbit as they raise their children. Workers who get knocked up by demons, on the other hand, typically go into hiding. Demons like their children. A little too much.

Faeries aren’t common guests at Asylum, which means your mother knew who your father was, even though she never told you. Overhaul knows, too, but you’ve never asked him. It doesn’t matter. Faeries as a rule look down on half-fey, and if you ever tried to visit a faery realm, you’d be thrown out at best and enslaved at worst. Only some inhumans are capable of siring or bearing children, and of those species, faeries are among the most disinterested. The only inhumans who take less interest in their half-human offspring are the inhumans least likely to come to Asylum.

You’ve just sent off yet another order of drinks, this time to a siren in Room 129 who really wants his worker to loosen up, and you’re in the middle of adding an instruction to the restock sheet when someone barks a question at you from the other side of the counter. “Does this place have WiFi?”

Guests have been asking you questions since you were old enough to talk, but in the twenty-three years you’ve lived in Asylum, you’ve never heard anybody ask that. You look up from the restock sheet and find the guest in question staring back at you. “What?”

“WiFi. Do you have it?” The guest brandishes a smartphone at you. A really nice smartphone, in a pale hand with dry skin and ragged nails. “Do you even know what WiFi is?”

“I know what it is. We don’t have it,” you say, and the guest swears. “If I were you, I wouldn’t try to use your phone in here at all. The flux field will fry your battery if you don’t turn it off.”

The guest’s eyes narrow slightly. The skin around them is dry and itchy-looking, and his irises themselves are red. He powers off his phone and glances around the lounge, eyes lingering on the light fixtures, on the faucet, on the scrying mirrors that act as a security system and the locking runes on the doors. “Nothing in here is electric,” he says. “It can’t be, if the flux field’s strong enough to fuck up my phone.”

You nod. “You should tell people that when they come in,” the guest says. He looks at his powered-off phone, grimacing. “This was new.”

“If you haven’t been in here long and you haven’t been using it, it should be fine,” you say. The guest doesn’t answer, just tucks his phone into his pocket and crosses his arms over his chest, and the silence goes from neutral to awkward in roughly seven seconds.

It’s the kind of situation you’d bail out of instantly anywhere else – you spend enough time being uncomfortable at your job that you’ve got no patience for discomfort in other situations. But you are at your job, which means you have a built-in conversation topic. “Can I get you a drink?”

“What?”

“A drink.” You gesture at the bar, and the guest’s eyes track your hand. “We have everything.”

“You don’t,” the guest says, and then orders champagne. You’re pretty sure every bar on the planet has champagne. “How do you know I can pay for it?”

“They opened up a tab on you when you came through the door.” You find a bottle of champagne and the correct glass – Chrono saw you pour it into a wine glass once and gave you hell – and pour. “And they gave you a passkey. Show it to me?”

He has it looped around his wrist. You copy the symbol into the ledger and write down the order and the price. The guest is leaning across the bar to watch you, getting much closer than you’d like, and he makes a surprised sound when the order you’ve written melts from the page. “Magic,” he says, and you nod. You’re not sure why he’s so surprised. Then: “You’re charging that much for a glass of champagne? This had better be the best champagne in the world.”

“You tell me.” You slide the glass across the bar and watch as he raises it to his lips.

He’s got to be some kind of inhuman, or part-inhuman – no human makes it through the door as a guest, unless they’re packing some heavy magic. You’d say he was a magic-user of some kind, a warlock or an occultist, except he was too surprised by the flux field and resultant lack of WiFi to be someone who works with magic regularly. Half-demon, maybe. He has blue-grey hair to go with his red eyes, worn long enough to brush his shoulders and slightly too tousled to have done it purposely. His clothes are formal – white shirt, black vest, black pants, black tie. The look should come with a suit jacket, but it doesn’t. Guests don’t exactly show up to Asylum in their pajamas, but it’s rare to see one come in dressed to the nines.

The guest finishes half the glass of champagne and sets it down on the bar. He glances at you and you raise your eyebrows. “Well?”

“Pretty good,” the guest says. “Still not worth what you’re charging.”

“It’s an import,” you say. Technically, everything’s an import when it’s coming to a pocket dimension. “And it was good enough for you to drink half of it.”

“Not much else to do.” The guest takes out his phone, scowls when he realizes it’s powered off, then sits down at a barstool. “What’s with the mask?”

“It’s part of the uniform,” you say. Your usual uniform is a hideous old-time maid outfit, but the front-of-house uniform is sleeker, and the mask is just the icing on the cake. You like how you look in this much more than you do in the other uniform, but that lasts only as long as it takes you to remember that guests like you in it, too. “Everybody has one.”

“Why? It’s not like it hides your face.”

“I don’t know. The aesthetic, maybe?” You have your own pet theory – something about Overhaul being older than you think, and picking up his germophobia during the Black Death – but you don’t know for sure. “It’s the boss’s thing.”

“Yeah, no kidding. He looks like a fucking toucan.”

You almost choke on thin air, and while you’re struggling not to laugh, the guest keeps talking. “I was supposed to stay with my master – to learn – but he kicked me out. What am I supposed to do around here?”

“Find a room and watch,” you say. It’s the guest’s turn to choke. Unfortunately for him, he just took a sip of champagne. “You can tell which ones are okay with it. Look for a green rune above the door.”

That’s all some guests come here to do – you can’t count the number of times you’ve seen a demon drop the entry fee without blinking and spend the entire time indulging their voyeuristic dreams. “I didn’t come here to watch strangers fuck,” the guest says, coughing. He picks up the champagne and downs the rest of it, then shoves the glass back towards you. “I came here to learn.”

You pour another glass one-handed and mark it in the ledger with the other. “Learn about what?”

The guest doesn’t answer, and when you slide the glass across the bar to him, he seizes your wrist. You jerk back, and his grip tightens, but he doesn’t pull you forward – just holds you in place, the fingers of his other hand pressing down over your pulse. “Not a lich,” he says. You plant your feet and yank your hand back again. This time you pull free. “Too strong to be a human. If you were a wolf you’d be howling at the moon right now. What are you?”

“What are you?” you retort. “You first.”

“Guess.”

You don’t have time to guess. Two more orders alight on the edge of the bar, and you get to work, mixing two Mai Tais for one and pouring eight blowjob shots for the other. “I’ll guess for you,” the guest says. “Half-demon.”

“Nope.” You glance at him while you shake the can of whipped cream. “Half-demon.”

“Try again,” the guest says. He takes a sip of his second champagne. “Mer?”

“Do I look like a mermaid to you?” You’re not even going to guess that for him. Half-demon was your best guess. Half-giant is out – he’s not tall enough, and no giant, half or otherwise, would ever call someone else ‘master’. You fall back on a guess you ruled out earlier. He could be a magic-user who’s just really bad at it. “Warlock?”

“Not a chance,” the guest says. “Shapeshifter?”

“If I was, I wouldn’t tell you,” you say, and he snorts. “You’re not a shapeshifter, are you?”

“I wouldn’t tell you, either.” The guest takes another sip of his champagne and props his chin in his hand to study you as you set the blowjob shots down at the end of the bar for the server to pick up. “I’ll give you one more guess. If you don’t get it by then –”

“You’ll what?” You see a smirk cross the guest’s face, his lips pulling back from his teeth, and then you see it. The word flies from your mouth before you can stop it and turns you into one enormous, cringeworthy cliché. “Vampire.”

“Half-vampire,” the guest corrects. His smirk grows. “I can’t believe you didn’t guess. That one was easy.”

You don’t meet a lot of vampires, and there’s a good reason for that. Vampires are bad for a business like Overhaul’s. You’ve heard there are oases that cater specifically to vampires, and you’ve heard that some vampires still like to hunt in the wild, and regardless of what you’ve heard or haven’t heard, you know you’ve seen exactly two vampires in your entire life. Both came uninvited. Both left quickly. And neither of them were turned loose to wander Asylum unsupervised.

Overhaul and Chrono must know there are vampires here. If you needed to know they’d have warned you, and if it comes to a fight between you and a skinny half-vampire who’s had two glasses of champagne, they must like your chances. Still – “A half-vampire,” you repeat, loud enough that the server who’s come to retrieve the Mai Tais can’t fail to hear. “What brings you and your master here?”

“Same thing that brings everybody else who comes here.” The half-vampire finishes his champagne, and before he can ask, you fill it again. “You know. Needs.”

If this half-vampire and his master are here to get their needs met, why is he down here with you while his master talks to Overhaul? Did Overhaul know they were coming? The half-vampire is watching you over the rim of his glass. “You meet weirder needs here. Don’t make that face.”

“I’m just wondering – why here?” you ask. “I know there are vampire-specific oases –”

“Those? They’re just blood banks.” The half-vampire shakes his head. “My master has better taste than that.”

You don’t like the word ‘taste’ in the context of drinking other people’s blood, and your mask isn’t anywhere near enough to conceal your grimace. The half-vampire isn’t paying attention. He’s drinking champagne, talking between swallows. “This place isn’t our first choice,” he says. “Our old arrangement fell through last month.”

“What happened?”

“Why do you care?”

“I want to know,” you say. You do. You don’t meet many vampires, let alone half-vampires who like champagne and are in a chatty mood. “What happened to make us the better offer?”

“The guy who runs the old place grew a conscience.” The half-vampire rolls his eyes. “Apparently it’s more honorable to hunt down screaming humans in the wild than it is to buy one who signed up for it.”

You wish you could say you were horrified to hear that people sell themselves to vampires, but the workers at Asylum sell themselves to all kinds of inhumans. The only difference is that the outcome of an encounter with a vampire can only be death. “So he stopped selling to your master?”

“Yeah. Something about upsetting the natural way of things.” The half-vampire finishes his third glass. You don’t refill it until he nudges it towards you, at which point you fill it to the brim. “My master can’t hunt like he used to. Not for the kind of humans he wants, but he can pay whatever it takes to get them. How much of a conscience would you say your boss has?”

You don’t even have to think about it. “Absolutely none.”

“Then I guess we’ll be seeing each other again,” the half-vampire says. “My master has an appetite. Shigaraki Tomura.”

“What?”

“Shigaraki Tomura. That’s my name.” The half-vampire – Shigaraki Tomura – takes another sip of champagne. “What’s yours?”

“You still haven’t guessed what I am yet.”

“I gave you a big hint. You owe me a hint, too.” Shigaraki looks interested. He’s leaning forward on his elbows, studying you. You wonder if he can tell that he’s making you uncomfortable, and if he can tell, if he cares – or if it’s something he wants to do. “A hint, or your name. Your choice.”

If you were anything other than the type of half-human you are, it would be easy. For most people, inhuman or otherwise, names mean nothing, and neither do lies. The rules for half-fey are blurry. You don’t want to find out what they are while dealing with a vampire. Because of that, you fall back into proper customer service. “Our names don’t matter at Asylum, Shigaraki-san. To us, it’s all about the guest.”

“If it’s all about the guest and I’m a guest, you should answer my question,” Shigaraki says. He’s smirking again. “Since you tried to sneak out of it, I get to pick what you tell me. And I want your name.”

“Why?” You can see that the question throws him, so you let it stand, and top off his glass of champagne in the bargain. “It makes sense for me to know your name, Shigaraki-san, but you’d have no use for mine.”

“Says who? I decide what I have a use for.”

“Why?”

Shigaraki takes another sip of champagne. “Why what?”

“Why would you have a use for it?” You sound like you’re bantering, but you want to know. Need to know, more accurately. “Most guests don’t concern themselves with the existence of servants.”

“If that’s true, then you shouldn’t wear these.” Shigaraki taps his own cheek, drawing attention to a scar over his right eye. It takes you a second to realize that he’s referring to your mask. “It makes it look like you’re hiding something. Like what you are. Or your name.”

“I’ll tell you my name,” you say, and you give Shigaraki a few seconds of triumph before you add the condition, “after you tell me why you want it.”

He opens his mouth. “And don’t lie,” you add. “I’ll know if you lie.”

“Witch.”

“No,” you say. You’re surprised he didn’t guess that sooner, but he’s still wrong. “What? You don’t want to know my name anymore?”

“I want it,” Shigaraki says. He picks up his champagne and drains the glass in one swallow. You refill it partway before he stops you. “I don’t see why I should have to tell you. I’m the guest. If it’s about what I want –”

“I’m giving you what you want,” you say. “You just have to give me something in return.”

Shigaraki watches you over the rim of the glass, and you look back. You’ve heard that full vampires can exert control over others through prolonged eye contact, but the same is supposed to be true of fey, and you’re not feeling inclined to do what Shigaraki wants you to do. He glances away from you first, takes another sip of champagne. You don’t look away, and when he looks back and makes eye contact again, you see his face flush.

That’s – weird. The words leave your mouth before you can think better of it. “Are you okay?”

“Don’t look at me,” Shigaraki snaps. He stares down into his glass, and you busy yourself putting away the almost-empty bottle of champagne.

You hear the whistle of something moving at high speed through the air and barely whip your head sideways in time to avoid the wing of Overhaul’s messenger slicing into your cheek. You don’t like spilling blood on the job, especially not when there’s a vampire nearby. The messenger flies past you, then comes back around, and this time, you catch it in midair. Shigaraki’s noticed it, too. “Origami?” he repeats. “Is that part of the aesthetic?”

You shrug. Almost everything travels on paper in Asylum – orders, bills, memos, contracts, and messages. Each type of communication comes folded into a different bird, but the only person who uses paper cranes folded from purple paper with gilded edges is your boss. The crane unfolds in your hand and you read the message in Overhaul’s cramped handwriting. Find the half-vampire Shigaraki Tomura and return him to my study. His master is ready to depart.

You’re about to look like the world’s most efficient employee. You tuck the paper into your uniform and turn to Shigaraki. “Your master’s ready to leave. If you’ll follow me, I’ll escort you back to him.”

“Great.” Shigaraki drains his glass of champagne, gets to his feet, and nearly tips over. He has to grab the bar to steady himself, and even then, it barely works. “What the hell?”

You make your way around the bar, waiting to see if he’ll straighten up on his own. You wonder if he’s faking it, but given how skinny he is, how much champagne he drank, and how quickly he drank it, it’s not a stretch at all that he’s pretty drunk. It’s clear when he straightens up that he’s still dizzy, and you duck in to support him. “Here. Lean on me. If your master’s anything like my boss, he won’t like being kept waiting.”

“What did you do to me?” Shigaraki mumbles as he slings one arm over your shoulders. When you wrap your arm around his back, you can feel his ribs through two layers of clothing. “You said you weren’t a witch. You lied.”

You have to laugh at that. “This isn’t magic. You’re just drunk.”

“Vampires don’t get drunk.”

“Humans do,” you say. “One of the downsides of being half-something else.”

Shigaraki makes a noise, but you can’t tell if he’s responding to what you said or to being drunk in general. You hustle him through the hallways as quickly as you can manage. Overhaul hates having to give the same order twice, and you can feel the unfolded message fluttering in your pocket, trying to fold itself again and tattle on you that the task isn’t complete. The faster you move, however, the more it seems like Shigaraki’s trying deliberately to obstruct you. More and more of his weight falls against you with every step.

You’re strong enough to carry him, but it starts to bother you. “If that champagne made your legs stop working, I really need to know about it so I don’t poison any more guests.”

“I’m conserving energy.” Shigaraki hiccups, then groans. “My master can’t find out. He’ll be pissed.”

There’s no way Shigaraki’s master isn’t going to find out. If you let go of him he’s going to go face-first into the floorboards. “How pissed is he going to be?”

Shigaraki doesn’t answer, but the way his shoulders tense tells you everything you need to know. You’re almost to Overhaul’s study. The door’s open, and you can see the weird light leaking through, the kind that means someone’s using magic. Inspiration hits. You shift Shigaraki so he’s leaning against the wall, shove him until he stands up mostly straight, and call up every ounce of glamour you have.

It’s not much, and it won’t hold long, but as long as Shigaraki manages not to say or do anything too weird, it’ll keep his master from noticing how absolutely plastered he is. Shigaraki stares at you as the glamour settles over him, clearly confused. “What –”

“It’ll hold until you’re by yourself as long as you keep your shit together,” you say. You pull him upright again, shifting position so it seems more like you’re escorting him than like you’re dragging him along. “Come on. We’re almost there.”

“Why?”

You could ask for clarification. Instead you ignore him. So far tonight he’s asked you multiple questions you don’t want to answer, and even though this is the one that’s least likely to get you in trouble, it’s the one you’re most likely to lie about. Shigaraki’s head, which he was holding up under his own power until two seconds ago, tips sideways until his cheek is resting against the top of your head. “You don’t smell like a witch.”

“That’s because I’m not a witch. Stand up straight.” You’d also like him to quit sniffing you, but you’re not going to win that one. You reach out with one hand and knock on the open door. “Sir, I’ve brought the half-vampire, as you requested.”

“That was fast.”

The voice that responds isn’t Overhaul’s. Shigaraki jerks out of your grip and stands upright, your glamour clinging to him, while you tense every muscle in your body, trying to hide the shiver that runs through you. Most inhumans leave some sort of calling card of their presence – a scent in the air, a shift in the temperature of a room, a momentary change in the light or shadows. You’re used to that. But the aura emanating from the vampire who must be Shigaraki’s master is intense enough to crawl under your skin, and it’s ice-cold. Barring two things you don’t think about, it’s the worst feeling you’ve ever experienced in your life.

Overhaul is responding to the master vampire. “The staff at Asylum are well-trained,” he says. “Shigaraki Tomura, welcome back. I trust you enjoyed your self-guided tour of our offerings.”

You linger outside the door, unsure of what you should do, but then Chrono sticks his head out into the hallway, spots you, and gestures sharply for you to leave. You don’t need to be told twice. You hurry back down the hall, down a set of stairs, and through a staff-only shortcut until you’re back at the lounge, with five drink orders folded into the shape of swans bobbing up and down at the end of the bar for your attention. You’ve finished all five and two more besides before the chill begins to seep out of you.

There’s nothing about what happened tonight that you’re comfortable with. Wire to wire, it’s been one of the worst full moons you can remember, and it doesn’t improve when Overhaul and Chrono step into the lounge at the end of your shift. Overhaul sits; Chrono stands. “Explain yourself.”

You could ask for clarification. You could do that if you wanted to spend the next decade paying for it. “The half-vampire came to the lounge. I thought it would be best to keep him there instead of letting him wander around.”

“How did you keep him there?”

You hesitate, and Overhaul steps in. “He was covered in your glamour when he came in. I want to know if we undercharged his master.”

Your face goes up in flames. “I didn’t – no,” you say. “I got him drunk.”

Overhaul coughs. Chrono’s shoulders shake briefly, the way they do when he’s trying not to laugh. You reach behind the bar and produce the mostly-empty bottle of champagne, followed by the ledger. Overhaul peruses the ledger while Chrono continues the interrogation. “If all you did was pour champagne, why was he wearing your glamour?”

You could get away with not answering Shigaraki’s question. Not answering your bosses isn’t an option. “He said he was going to get in trouble. I didn’t mean to get him in trouble, so I thought –” You can’t see Chrono’s eyes, but you can see Overhaul’s, and Overhaul’s looking at you like you’re out of your mind. “I thought if I put a glamour over him, his master might not notice.”

Overhaul doesn’t say anything. Neither does Chrono. An echo of the shiver from the master vampire’s aura runs through you. “Did his master notice?”

“His senses are too dull to hunt for himself. They’re certainly too dull to capture a glamour as weak as yours,” Chrono says. “Shigaraki Tomura escaped detection, at least while on the premises. And it seems he now owes you a favor.”

“No,” you say without thinking. “It was my fault.”

Chrono scoffs, then returns his attention to the bottle. Overhaul focuses on you. “Does he know what you are?”

You shake your head. “Good,” Overhaul says. “Next time, save your glamour for yourself. He and his master will return at the next full moon.”

Your stomach lurches. “They’ll be back?”

“The offer the master vampire made was quite lucrative. It would have been unwise to refuse,” Chrono says. “Serving vampires en masse is bad business, but on a limited basis – very profitable.”

You don’t even want to know – but you’ll find out. You’re dead certain of it. You grew up here, and you know where to listen to hear every secret told within Asylum’s walls. And even if you didn’t, even if you put your hands up over your ears and walked away from anyone who spoke of it, you know exactly who you’ll hear it from – the half-vampire Shigaraki Tomura, the next time he steps into the lounge with a bad attitude, a useless smartphone, and a list of questions you’re already dreading being asked.

Omg yes ! I went to a farm a little while ago and they had a cute little bunny with a gray/blueish color, he was so damn cute ! But he was scared of many human. I, on my side am scared of rabbit (😅)

So the only one i was comfortable enought to touch was him but i could see that he was a little scared so i was barely touching him and after some time with only two little pat in that meantime, the little baby come litteraly to me 😭🥹✋💗💗💗

And now that i saw this image i can't stop thinking that he's like this Tomura bunny 😂🫶

OvO he's almost blue in the light and here how he is in a darker light, at that moment he was still scared so he was "hiding" (not the best place to hide buddy)

bunny Tomura and sea urchin Dabi.

A new life for Tomura part2

it's time to be self-indulgent, hell yeah baby!

I read tha one many times, still love it

YANDERE SHIGARAKI TOMURA X DARLING

⚠️ MDNI•NSFW•18+•Dark Content ⚠️

Specific warnings: Implied kidnapping, x reader, yandere themes, assault, non-con, forced dub-con, afab! darling, vaginal penetration, oral (m! Receiving), anal, degradation, humiliation, abuse, mean Tomura, seriously this is fucking dark and sad but I’m writing as realistically as I can, Tomura is mentally ill, don’t read if you usually prefer fluff, angst

Synopsis: Oh how this man claims to be so much more, but he’s just a desensitized gaming addict and the only real murder he’s committed is dusting. He never really took a person apart until they begged for death… until you.

“FUCK!” The scream echoed off the walls of the dark room. He threw the game controller to the ground, his hands digging into his hair and pulling at the greasy blue strands. When he wasn’t done whining after a minute, you prepared yourself mentally.

Just as predicted, within a few moments after his cursing and game rage died down, blood shot red eyes flicked over to you.

You. Chained up like a dog to the bed post, curled in on yourself on the floor by the nightstand. It didn’t matter how small you made yourself, how low you bowed and bent. You were seen as a patronizing civilian that worshiped heroes and licked the hypocrisy they spewed right off the ground they walked. Begging irritated him, pleas for mercy usually resulted in more injury and pain, so you stayed silent and still. Your lip had barely healed enough that it wasn’t agonizing to drink or eat, and you didn’t feel like having the wound reopened.

He’d lost for the nth time already. This level harder than the last few he’d easily conquered but none of it truly mattered except surviving another night. You counted in your mind as he sauntered over to you, sneering down at your sorry, dirty, naked figure. He hadn’t allowed you a shower or bath in over a week, so you were caked in your own sweat, blood, and his semen. He liked painting you, marking you with cuts and bruises shaped like his hands. His hands he could place on you fully and you wouldn’t disintegrate. Your useless quirk suddenly the reason you’ve entered this unending nightmare.

1…2…3…4…5

Fingers dug into the flesh of your upper arm, yanking you onto unsteady feet and shaking legs. He pulled you to his level, vitriol soaking his words, “You think it’s funny don’t you? Fucking whore, are you mocking me?” It was a rhetorical question, but he reacted as if he really wanted an answer. His free hand moved to wrap around your neck, cutting off air as he bared his teeth and yelled at you, “FUCKING ANSWER ME!”

“No!” You were forced to answer, but it was never a game you could win with whatever words left your lips. He pushed you towards the bed, his thin figure oddly powerful as you tripped over your own feet and landed only halfway on the mattress. You’d been starved of any actual nutrients from his snack binges, though you were aware his own meals were prepared by a man named Kurogiri. It left you weak and lethargic, unable to really fight back, and now it seems more serious issues were arising as your legs didn’t quit support you anymore.

You could only try and calm your breathing as you heard him unbutton his pants. The scent of his bed a mild distraction for what was to come as you let your mind drift. The man, Kurogiri, washed his sheets weekly, his comforter biweekly, and did some sort of mattress vacuuming and deep clean. The mist covered man never spoke to you, never even acknowledged you existed. Your own existence seemingly reduced to… this.

Nails dug into your scalp and you could only whine in pain as the chain connected to your collar was used to yank you up further onto the bed where he wanted you. Compliance wasn’t the best thing to do, it was the only thing to do. You either did it yourself or he did it for you, and it would hurt exponentially more if he did it. “You must think I’m a loser huh? Some pathetic nobody. Let me make something clear,” his breath smelled like sugar and chemicals from his energy drink, “The only pathetic loser here is you.”

You were grateful when he shoved your face into the mattress. Grateful he couldn’t see the tears leak from your half opened distance gaze as you stared at the television screen he’d abandoned. He was right, you were the pathetic loser here. The screen was on the starting page, an armored warrior decked out in all of Tomura’s favorite equips…just… hovering.

The sounds of fabric rustling caught you attention, and you did your best to relax when you felt cool wet fingers messily prod your entrance. You stayed still when he moved completely, likely dropping down to spread your ass so he could spit directly onto your cunt. He wasn’t really speaking to you as he muttered out a mild “dumb whore” before shoving his half hard cock inside of you. It stung, his hips trying to shove himself into a dry channel with grunted effort. His hand came down next to your face, blocking to view of the tv as you grit your teeth remain silent. It didn’t matter if you screamed or wailed, he got off on it even more, so why give him the satisfaction? You clenched the bed sheets between your fingers and could only hope he’d be done soon.

How wrong you’d be though.

Tomura seemingly had something to prove tonight. He kept muttering beneath his breath about something called a “Nomu” and “Fucking Stain” but you really couldn’t understand too much. Only that he was clearly taking whatever frustrations those caused out on you.

Despite your best efforts, all your willpower, you body betrayed you like it always did. Slick wet his passage and soon he was hammering into you with fervor and it only made you sick inside because a small part of it all felt good. Horrendously good, and with each passing day, you internally began craving any interaction. Even if it was like this. Detached or full of hatred which burned so much hotter than your own despite being the victim. “Fuck- tight, relax!” he huffed loudly, his moan not matching his words before his hand connected with your ass and a yelp ripped from your lips finally.

He laughed, forcing you up the bed further to hike your hips up and force your head down to fuck even deeper into you. Your own juices making the sounds so much more erotic as his hips smashed into you, forcing each inch of him inside. You could only cry and bite back the noises struggling to come out, the pleasure becoming a little too strong as a war began inside of you. You didn’t want to give this monster the satisfaction but your body was begging for release.

You could resume your count, hoping it distracted you long enough for him to finish first.

6…7…8…9…

“What’s wrong huh? Not gonna scream for your heroes tonight?” His palm connecting with your ass didn’t register right away, but the next one did. You could only whimper and whine, still intent on keeping your noises minimal.

10….11….12….13….

“Fuck you get tighter every time I spank you. Do you like getting fucked by a disgusting villain? Who’d even fucking want you now that I’ve had you?” His tip kept nailing just the tip of your cervix and it was making stars dance in your vision. His nasty words no longer really registering. “You don’t know pain, not really. You think being immune to my quirk makes you special?” Only tiny choked sobs and the noises of him railed you into the mattress answered him.

What number were you on again? 10?

“I’m gonna fill this pussy- fuck!” You wanted to crawl away from it all but he had you pinned. You couldn’t remember the numbers or even your name really. You did know you were going to come if he didn’t stop. “Please-!” You hated it, the way he made you feel. So weak and pathetic, and he wasn’t even trying to make you feel good. You didn’t want to come, you didn’t want any of this. Your heart was beating so loudly in your ears, you could hardly hear anything anymore. You didn’t even realize the noises now coming from your throat sounded like pure ecstasy.

Tomura even slowed down momentarily, stunned by the lewd moans and cries you were making, and then how wet you were despite everything. It drove him wild.

His hips slammed into you, both hands now digging into your hips and all you could do was take it. Each thrust was met with him yanking you back onto his swollen cock, you could even feel it beginning to throb inside of you.

You broke for the first time as your orgasm washed over you, reducing you to a shaking whiny mess. Your twitching and tightening walls had Tomura following right behind you, moaning into your back as he filled you up.

You both stayed quiet for a moment, panting and struggling to regroup your minds. For just a second, you closed your eyes and pretend it was different. That you were just as your boyfriend’s house playing video games and it led to passionate sex. That it wasn’t a psychopathic villain that just fucked you senseless. Maybe he was pretending you were as fucked up as he was. Maybe you were if this is where you are now.

He pulled out slowly, his breathing still slightly ragged but he’s mostly recovered now unlike you.

The sight of you on his bed like this, limp and leaking his cum from your cunt, had him hard all over again. It was easy to just manhandle you to laying with your face near the edge of the bed on your side, where he could present his cock in front of your face.

“Open up slut, I’ve got your favorite thing right here.” His snarky comment and snicker ignored as you opened your mouth, letting him stuff his cock inside as you struggled not to gag and choke. He needed to shower. So did you. Sadly, Tomura wasn’t a man that liked waiting or had any patience. His hand settled behind your head, and then his hips moved. He cared little if you choked on his cock, the thick appendage sinking into your throat and making you cry for all new reasons. You could only be grateful he seemed to want to enjoy this blow job, hips moving leisurely and just slow enough you could still breathe. He was murmuring nonsense, and you did your best to suck and take all of him the best you could to ensure this night didn’t end as a new nightmare. For a moment, you really thought it wouldn’t, but when he hit too deep and you gagged and pulled away…

It enraged him. “Bitch!”

A sharp noise echoed, and it took a moment for the blinding pain that seared the side of your face to process with your mind as a slap. The next side followed, as you cried out and tried to raise your hands to prevent worsening damage.

It didn’t matter. You could already taste blood and acknowledge your lip was probably worse off than it began. This was the thing about Tomura, it was like he could sense your relief. He was a predator that preyed on all things comfort or joy. “Did you just try to bite me? STOP CRYING!” His hands shot out to wrap around your neck, yanking you up and cutting off all air as you had a short panicked moment to stare into his eyes.

He looked unhinged.

“Who the fuck do you think you are? You’re mine, my fucking toy, and if I want to make you die choking on my dick you should be grateful.” He’s out of his mind, but then again you knew that already. The edges of your vision darkened due to the lack of oxygen and you briefly wondered if this was how you really died.

You also briefly wanted to.

Unfortunately he didn’t seem done with you yet, when he forced you off the bed and let you drop to the floor to gasp like a fish out of water. Choking down air greedily before shrieking in pain as the same air was knocked from your lungs. His foot connecting with your stomach had you reeling, no liquids or food to throw up so it left you dry heaving and curling in on yourself.

“Shut up! It’s your fault! This is all your fault! Why’d you get to have a nullifying quirk, huh? What makes you so fucking great? Nothing! I can still kill you!” His hands pressing you down to the floor, shoving you on your back as you dizzily looked up at the man torturing you.

You hated him. Hated all of him. Hated how violent he was. How he never asked for anything, just took it. Hated how spoiled he acted. Hated how even now, you felt a small piece of you pity this monster, as tears streamed down his face. Despite his eyes being locked on you, he wasn’t looking at you. He was seeing someone else, and the grief in his eyes was real and you hated that there were pieces of him that were human.

He spread your legs easily, your body too weak to fight back. He was shaking, even as one finger dipped inside you, his free hand was scratching violently at his neck until blood began to pour. It’s oddly like he’s trying to match your pain, or he needs pain in general to get off somehow. He used your own combined fluids to lubricate your other hole, dipping a finger in even despite your whine of protest. At least he was lubricating you this time. Small mercies.

When he pressed into your ass, the stretch and burn had you wanting to vomit again. It just amplified the rest of the pain in your body. You let the tears flow this time, still outmatched by his own. His face screwed up in a grimace because this must not be pleasant for him either. His eyes wide and still crying, as he struggles to move inside you due to the tightness. His teeth were grit and bared and you wanted to ask why he was doing all this.

Time seemed to slow down as only your grunts of pain and his of pleasure were exchanged. Your cunt leaking and and neglected as your ass finally relaxed enough to take more than half of him in at once. His thrusts were short and jerky, and he’d placed a hand around your throat for balance more than anything. The other rested on your hip, his eyes locked to where you were joined. For a sadistic psycho, he didn’t look at your face much when he was like this.

Eventually you went numb.

You didn’t feel like seeing his agonizing expression just like he didn’t really like seeing yours. Your head turned, staring at the only light source this dark room ever had, the television. You let your mind wander, trying to think of what would defeat the next boss Tomura kept struggling to defeat.

You flinched when you felt a tickle across your bare chest. Blue strands grazing your chest and collar bone as Tomura leaned his face down close to your own.

He wasn’t crying anymore. If anything, he looked apathetic.

You didn’t know your expression matched his perfectly.

You felt his pace increase, the hand around your throat tightening and something inside you knew. The way he looked down on you seemed to have some sort of resolve. Your hands moved slowly to wrap around his wrist, a strange contrast and his brows furrowed in confusion. His cock dragged inside you, the earlier pain replaced by an odd sensation you couldn’t say you disliked or liked either. You were full in different way.

“What are you-?”

“Kill me.” His eyes widened ever so slightly.

His hips stilling.

You could only lick your chapped and bleeding lips, as silence seemed to eat away at the room.

“Please… kill me.” You didn’t feel the tears flowing down your cheeks, or the warmth of his body on top of you, or much of anything but the cold anymore. You were freezing. You’re seemingly always cold and a deep rooted exhaustion had taken hold of you.

“What are…?” He looked disgusted for a moment, his eyes becoming wider as he pulled out of you and shuffled away.

You didn’t move.

“Kill me…” it was so faint he hardly heard it.

Tomura stood, an odd conflict inside him as he stared down at you. Sweet perfect you, except you didn’t really look like you used to, and he was feeling nauseous as your words echoed in his head.

Kill me

He’d asked that once before.

He scrambled to his feet, his erection gone and strangely so was his earlier dilemma. He’d been struggling to find his solution, to get rid of you like Master wanted or to not.

His eyes took in the sight of you again and an emotion he can’t stand fills him.

Guilt.

He’s a villain. He shouldn’t feel guilt or shame. Why did he feel sick then? When you asked the same thing he asked?

Did you see him as he saw Father?

He stumbled clumsily into the bathroom just in time to empty the contents of his stomach into the toilet.

He needed air.

He returned nearly 12 hours later, showering in a different bathroom than the one attached to his room, in fresh clothes. His tv still on the home screen of his game left abandoned now. His bed still messy and empty.

You still where he left you. Curled up and in on yourself. His chest constricted but he forced down the rising bile with a mission in mind.

His eyes tracked the thin chain that kept you in the room, in his palm the key which would release that. His skin itched but he ignored it in favor of walking around you and towards the lock on the bed. Once it was unsecured, he had no choice but to move towards you now.

His hands shook as he moved to reach out and touch you. Your skin clammy and cold. He unlocked and removed the collar from your throat.

“Kurogiri… can you get her into the bath?”

“Yes.”

It was simple enough, the task of washing you. It was like cleaning a real toy, except he got to look at all the damage he’d done. You were awake, sort of, but limp and weak as he cleaned you as gently as he could. He flinched when you did as he washed over your cuts and bruises, bite marks, and your intimates. It took a few washes before he felt satisfied. Once he’d dried you with a towel, Kurogiri gracefully settled you into Tomura’s freshly cleaned and made bed. You didn’t talk, not even a noise, as he wrapped you up in the blankets and pulled you into his arms.

You didn’t speak as he cried and held onto you, whispering to you things he doubted you really could hear.

“I don’t hate you” an ironic statement for him, but he doesn’t. He never hated you. He envied you. He wanted you. He wanted you to understand him. He wanted anyone that could understand him.

You fell asleep like that, warm for the first time in months.

Author Notes:

Tell me your thoughts, I need constructive criticism on my writing flow and patterns! I didn’t edit this cuz I’m lazy and I can’t find my glasses.

I’m planning a part two cuz Shiggy does redeem himself, mostly.

What’s scarier than a yandere that doesn’t know what they feel for you is love? He’s an immature young man trying to overthrow the government and all of societal views and norms. Of course he’s gonna sick, violent, depraved.

We love character development even in our villain★彡 The LOV gives him that, and in return, Darling starts to benefit (depending on how you look at it lol).

🏮𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 🏮

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 𝑵𝒔𝒇𝒘 | 𝑷𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒅 𝒔𝒆𝒙 | 𝑩𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒚 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕 | 𝑫𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕 | 𝑩𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒌 | 𝑪𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏 𝑮𝒚𝒖𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒐 | 𝑭𝒆𝒎 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 | 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒐𝒓𝒔 𝒑𝒍𝒔 𝑫𝑵𝑰

🏮𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒑𝒐: ❞𝑹𝒆𝒅 𝑳𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔❞ - 𝑺𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒚 𝑲𝒊𝒅𝒔

𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒌, 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚!

𝐀𝐫𝐭 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐬: @𝐥𝐥𝐥_𝟏𝟐𝟑_𝐥𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

The pain in your abdomen was killing you, the cramps made you feel so weak that you felt like you could pass out at any moment, you even started to feel like throwing up so the best thing to do for now while the pain medicine took effect was go up to your room and lie down for a moment.

Maybe getting some sleep would help you, most of the time when you slept for a while you woke up without pain so this was the solution to your problem. You lay down carefully on your futon and the moment your head touched your pillow your eyelids started to feel heavy until you slowly drifted off to sleep.

It was almost 10:00 pm and after wandering through the loneliest streets of the entertainment district, the upper sixth decided to return to the house where he lived inside his sister after a successful hunt. His demonic instinct to have killed a few people was wearing off but as soon as he stepped foot on your bedroom window to go inside, it was as if his bloodthirsty switch had been flipped up again.

The veins of his entire body stood out under his skin and in the middle of his bones, his muscles tensed and his mouth began to drool uncontrollably causing his saliva to begin to spill between his teeth up to his chin. Gyutaro smelled blood, and not just any blood. It was yours.

As if he were a wild animal stalking its feeble prey, he sneaked into your room making his footsteps inaudible to you while you were fast asleep. He crept through the shadows and darkness and loomed over you in a dangerous and imposing way trying to search anxiously with his gaze for any bleeding wounds on your body but he found none in plain sight.

He wanted to devour you, take his sickles and stick them into your belly to open your abdomen wide and tear all your organs from their place with his own fingers, taste you and lick every part that contained your blood until he reached the bones and to finally feel that you were becoming one with him... but he wouldn't do that. Throughout his time with you, Gyutaro learned to control his bloodlust, though that didn't take away from the fact that he would do anything to taste you.

He examined your whole body with his gaze, brought his face dangerously close to you and sniffed at you like a bloodhound searching for something underground. Gyutaro went down to your neck, then to your breasts, to your waist and when he went down to your pelvis before continuing with your thighs he stopped. It was as if someone had broken his nose with a blow when he suddenly felt that familiar fragrance burst suddenly and without warning through his nostrils. His curiosity was beyond his ability to reason at this point so he took the skirt of your kimono and lifted it up, exposing your panties. It was at that moment where all that perfume invaded the entire room.

You complained when you felt the cold of the night hitting your legs so you moved alerting Gyutaro. You left your face uncovered to reveal to Gyutaro the intense blush that invaded your entire face. You had been awake for a while before Gyutaro entered your room but upon seeing him go into hunter mode you decided that the most sensible thing to do was probably to keep still until Gyutaro's curious hands made you move in place, looking down. You tried to move your legs and settle on the futon, Gyutaro was your lover but that didn't take away from the fact that it was a bit embarrassing that he was staring at your panties, especially these days.

Gyutaro didn't care, he wanted to reach his goal at any cost but suddenly you quickly sat down and stood up pretending you remembered to do something. This made Gyutaro angry, your embarrassment made you act without thinking, and now your wrist was clamped tightly between his fingers. Gyutaro got on his knees in front of you and with a menacing look he ordered you to stay still so you obeyed him.

His hands took your clothes and a smirk spread across his face as he opened your kimono from under your obi exposing your panties again and that gorgeous scent for him. Brazenly, he reached between your legs and inhaled against your skin making your skin freeze trying to stop him by grabbing his head.

"G-Gyutaro, what are you doing!?" you asked, scared and shy. Very nervous too.

Gyutaro looked up and his lazy, carefree gaze met yours. "It's those days of the month, isn't it?" He asked.

Gyutaro didn't doubt it for another minute, if he kept thinking about the matter you would suspect his intentions and end up moving away from him so he immediately grabbed the edge of your underwear and pulled it down.

"Gyutaro!" You claimed, surprised.

When Gyutaro pulled at your clothing, a small red thread stretched out from your core causing it to end up stuck to your inner thigh. Gyutaro inevitably noticed and finished removing your panties to look at the fresh bloodstain that was dripping onto a small additional piece of cloth. His instinct told him to take it straight to his mouth and that's what he did, having one of the most precious things about you come into contact with his tongue, everything became different. Your blood was like a drug to him, once he tasted you he wanted more and more until your taste was etched on his palate.

Gyutaro put your dirty panties aside and placed both hands on your thighs to squeeze them with some force. He pushed your hands away in a clumsy attempt to cover you, bringing his face ever closer to you.

"Don't you feel bad these days? Let me make you feel better…don't be stupid and be a good girl to me, will you?" He seduced you, with his husky and trembling voice.

You couldn't articulate a response as you felt Gyutaro sink his head between your thighs and caress your entire slit with his long tongue. The only thing you could do was moan in surprise and bring the back of your hand to your mouth trying to hide each of your sounds.

The moment your blood was on Gyutaro's mouth, both of you knew there would be no going back. Gyutaro tightened his grip on your thighs and didn't let go of you. His lips adhered to yours and his mouth began to suck every part of your cunt as he swallowed every last drop. The hot feeling between your legs from Gyutaro's breath and feeling his wet tongue running through each of your corners made you feel more and more wet. You knew this would be a disaster and it embarrassed you so much but if Gyutaro really didn't have a problem with trying then neither did you. Actually, you had also fantasized about this moment before, your boyfriend is a bloodthirsty human-eating demon so he would never refuse to taste yours and even more so in this way so at this moment you could be anything to Gyutaro except disgusting.

Many wet clicks sounded in the room every time Gyutaro sucked on your core, his moans were muffled and his gasps were low and hoarse from deep in his throat. Your legs began to ache from the position you were standing in as well as Gyutaro's strong grip on them so you slowly got comfortable and sat on the floor. You thought it would be a bit awkward to do on the cold hard wood floor but it would be so much easier to clean in the end. You thought so but Gyutaro took you by the hips and placed you on the futon where you were sleeping peacefully a few minutes ago.

Your face was surprised to see his. His gaze fixed on you with passion and desire, instinct pushed him to continue. His face was stained with blood, even a little on the tip of his nose, a perverted smile formed on his mouth showing his reddish teeth as he licked the remains on his lips with his tongue. You looked down at your kimono open below your waist and how a slightly red stain was painting your thighs. This would surely be a disaster.

"G-Gyutaro, not here...I'm gonna stain everything"

Gyutaro looked at you as if this was a challenge. "And you think I care about that?"

He took your thighs again and spread your legs wide, having a beautiful view of your entire glowing core painted red, Gyutaro's mouth watered just looking at you and without waiting another second he plunged  his face again between your legs. Gyutaro didn't just limit himself to licking you, you could feel a slight pressure every time he sucked your blood from the bottom causing your back to arch and you began to move your hips in circles instinctively getting closer to his face.

The warmth of Gyutaro's tongue ran through you with complete freedom, he even took the trouble to lick the small red drops that escaped to your thighs and buttocks because of the position you were in. Your moans made him lose what little composure he had left. Gyutaro separated from you with his face wet and stained again leaving a trail of his saliva on your legs, he took your kimono with both hands and urgently got rid of it to leave you completely naked.

Gyutaro loomed over you, his hunched and intimidating figure enveloping you in his arms, he was about to go straight for your mouth but before he could you moved your face to the side causing Gyutaro's lips to collide with your cheek which clearly annoyed him a bit.

"Don't you wanna taste how delicious you are?" he scoffed.

For now he would let it go because he was actually in a very good mood, otherwise he would have forcefully grabbed your face and forced you to kiss his bloody mouth like he has done a couple of times before when he comes back from the kill. Gyutaro laughed against your skin, your eyes were closed so you couldn't help but jump reflexively when you felt a hot, sticky, wet sensation on your cheek. It was Gyutaro's tongue, which left a reddish stain on your skin.

A familiar sensation settled in your belly, moving toward your cunt at the exact moment Gyutaro lowered one of his hands and inserted his fingers inside you, and as he did, he could feel a warm discharge drenching his fingers, trickling down on the palm of his hand. Your face flushed red and your expression twisted in embarrassment as you felt a considerable amount of blood dripping right onto Gyutaro's hand. Your dripping was inevitable and with each passing second your thighs, your clothes, and the futon beneath the two of you began to tinge more and more red.

Gyutaro was amazed by this glorious moment so he took care of taking your face with one hand staining your cheeks so you could see how he licked the fingers that had been painted by you a few seconds ago. His tongue danced between his fingers making sure to take every drop of blood on his skin and then taste and swallow. He didn't say anything, he just looked at you and gave you daring smiles full of desire.

Gyutaro couldn't wait any longer. He grabbed the top of his pants and pulled them down to release his hard, throbbing dick, just seeing how erect he was made you shudder with pleasure eager to feel him as deep inside you as possible. Gyutaro's hand went straight for his tip to pump himself up a bit causing the blood on his hand to stain his cock and turn his fluid pink. He spread your legs to expose your entire pussy to his view and lined up at your entrance between your aching reddish folds.

He didn't give a shit about all the mess of blood that would be created, Gyutaro clung with both hands on your hips squeezing you tightly and began to move his to enter you with light thrusts that intensified with each impact in your center. His lips were kept parted letting thin threads of pink saliva slip between his sharp teeth while the loud and desperate moans that came from the back of his throat showed you how aroused he was. His mouth covered your entire body as did one of his hands, which left red marks of his painted hands on all of your skin as if he were marking you. Claiming you as his in the most passionate way.

In addition to your and Gyutaro's juices, your period made your pussy even wetter than usual so you could hear a cheeky splash every time Gyutaro pushed deeper and deeper into you. Your moans were carefree and grew louder as you felt Gyutaro's tongue begin to run over your soft skin. He filled your neck with wet kisses, licked and sucked your breasts, playing with your hard nipples, leaving some bite on your soft flesh; the intense smell of blood pushed him to be more rude than normal.

His thrusts began to be more violent and hard, you spread your legs more in an attempt to open more your cunt and receive Gyutaro better but you were still very tight for his thick length. You looked down and could only see your reddish and wet thighs and how your cunt connected directly to Gyutaro's cock while he desperately nailed you. His pants were getting stained with the drops that came out inside you, a very wet feeling that wet your butt and began to reach your back began to bother you. This caused some whimpering to leak to your lips between your moans, a part of you wanted to continue until you couldn't take it anymore but the other part wanted to end right now because your period made you feel really uncomfortable.

"Ah-aahh...Gyu-taro, I wanna cum... I wanna cum right now." you asked, with even more provocative pleas.

Gyutaro couldn't refuse at this moment, you didn't know it but he was surrendering at your feet for allowing him to make this fantasy of fucking you real while both of you were covered in blood. There was nothing better for him.

"As soon?" He sneered "You seemed to be enjoying it, babe. You're a slut, you should like these things."

Gyutaro would tease you by making comments to annoy you and humiliate you sweetly. He rocked his hips forward hard making you scream his name, tightening you around him; Gyutaro moved your legs up to your shoulders and licked the inner part of your thighs, sucking the new spots that were painted on you while he squeezed your wet ass and massaged it lewdly causing more moans from you and from him to see you in this weak state.

His hands cupped your ass and his rough fingers went straight to your cunt, his thumb tightening on your clit to start rubbing it causing chills to run through your body every time he squeezed and played with your nub. His other fingers played between your labia causing wet sounds every time he touched you, staining his fingers in a matter of seconds. From the way you squeezed into Gyutaro he could tell that you were about to cum but for some reason you couldn't and that was starting to frustrate you. You started moving and rubbing against Gyutaro to speed up your orgasm, your face contorted with pleasure as your hands clung to the futon and you bit your lip trying not to drool uncontrollably. Gyutaro kept fucking you hard and that helped the feeling of orgasm start to be more intense for him than for you.

That was a bit funny for him so he couldn't help but laugh and tease you as usual.

"Guess who's going to have the most fucking intense orgasm? It won't be your tight, pathetic little pussy, my love!" He said, while laughing.

Gyutaro started moaning as loudly and shamelessly as he fucking wanted, he grabbed both of your shoulders and then caged you in his arms to get as close to him as he could and hug you, leaving stains all over your back. Gyutaro's hips and yours collided with each other in an obscene reddish splash. An incredible sensation formed in Gyutaro's guts causing him to scratch your skin slightly as he leaned his head back to cum to the last drop inside you. Feeling that thick and warm sensation in your slippery pussy you couldn't help but start moving more and squeezing to try to cum too, you told Gyutaro not to stop touching you, he must have his fingers fucking and squeezing your needy clit over and over again until you finally felt it, your waist trembled and when you spread your legs wide your orgasm poured over Gyutaro creating a pink ring around his dick inside of you.

Gyutaro's hips continued to move reflexively as you finished cumming completely causing your juices and his to squirt out of you onto the futon. Gyutaro grabbed your legs and slowly came out of you to allow you to take a breather after having done what he wanted with you. A sticky red thread spread from your cunt following the tip of his dick as he pulled out of you. His entire cock was painted red as was the fabric of his pants that was under your legs.

Gyutaro looked straight ahead and saw how your wide open pussy continued to get wet and dripping even though he was done using you for now, the sight was too tempting so he couldn't help but lean over and start sucking between your folds, separating them with his fingers to reach towards your clit and lick it with need and desire nibbling your cunt a little making that electrifying sensation of your arousal make you wet and make you throb again. You moaned at Gyutaro's dirty actions and to create a little more friction, you started moving so that your clit brushed and rubbed against Gyutaro's tongue and he could taste every drop of you as he got you aroused again.

"Yeah... keep it up, aahh-ah!" You moaned in need, urged to feel him pleasuring your femininity in whatever way it was again.

"Do you like that? I thought you wanted to finish this now..."

Your hips didn't stop moving as you felt Gyutaro's breath crashing against your folds, you began to feel very horny from one second to the next. Probably because of the wet and intense feeling of having your orgasm almost at the same time as Gyutaro.

"N-no, just…aah! I just wanted to cum, but I want to keep going, I want you to keep going! I want you to touch me and fuck me until you can't anymore! Mmhh-aah!"

Gyutaro loved that you were so pathetic, ready to beg him to do all sorts of things to you.

"So...do you want me to continue?" He asked cruelly to make you beg. "Come on, if you want it so much, beg me for that, beg me to spread your legs wide and fuck you." He said, licking his lips.

"Ah-Aah! Fuck me Gyu, I beg you! Fill me up as much as you can" You replied, touching your own folds not caring that your fingers got dirty when you pumped your hole and they went in and out of you.

Gyutaro smiled mischievously, took your hand that was kneading and playing with your vagina and pulled it out of you to bring it to his mouth and lick your fingers obscenely, without taking his eyes off of you.

"So, this is just getting started."