A Simple Cup Of Tea [Yandere Scaramouche X Reader]

Moving Up

mafiaAU! Shalnark

Warnings: arson, mentions of torture, mentions of death, Shalnark being a creep

Word count: 4.2k

You had to call him eventually.

As you looked over the charred and foamy pile of what had once been store product, you could only put off the inevitable for so long. Arson was serious, to say the least, and you were told that if anything like this happened, you needed to call him so that he could decide where you went from there.

So why were you stalling? Probably because with a lot of floor cleaner, trash bags and a lot of hard work, you could clean up the mess without anyone even knowing what had happened. Sure, it would take all day and would only cost the store money, but it wasn’t like you would be making anything today with the burnt pile that currently sat in the middle of the floor.

But the first big issue with that plan was that your boss had told you to make the call. He had been the one to discover the fire and subsequently put it out, and after doing that he made you come in on your day off, gave you a run-down of what had happened and then gave you the order to call the troupe. Trying to get out of doing that would just cause him to give you grief for it later.

And the second thing was that the Phantom Troupe always inevitably found out any secrets anyone tried to hide from them. They had lackeys all over the city and a reliable information network that traveled fast. It wouldn’t surprise you if one of their underlings was aware of the fire and that word had already reached the ears of the man you were supposed to call. That would leave you in an awkward position of trying to come up with an excuse as to why it had taken you so long to contact him.

How long had it been, anyway?

You glanced over to the clock.

….. It’d been over an hour. Somehow you’d wasted an entire hour pushing off the inevitable.

Ah, fuck.

Keep reading

I want giggly cuddly sex with tadashi 🥺 where there’s no power dynamic just us two having a good time and wanting to make the other feel good :((

I combined these two little ditties into a fic!!! I hope you don’t mind!!!

CW: established relationship, praise, sex, fluff/smut. 

yamaguchi x reader 

(reader has a vagina- no pronouns or gendered language used)

first time

It's one of the pitfalls of a new relationship; everything the other person does is endearing. 

"I'm just saying, it's weird that the fourth movie is so good!" Yamaguchi digs his hand into the bowl on your lap, picking through the entire bowl to scrape at the popcorn kernels. He tosses the bits into his mouth and chews thoughtfully, cracking through each kernel loudly, before pausing to suck the excess salt off of his fingers. 

God, if anyone else did that, you'd probably be disgusted, or at the very least annoyed, but there's something about Yamaguchi that makes it unbearably endearing. Maybe it's the little shoulder dance he does every time he takes a bite. Maybe it's the way your heart skips a beat when his tongue swipes over his knuckle, catching a bit butter. "Name another series that has a good fourth movie. You can't. Scream 4 is one of a kind." 

He does it again, crunching through the kernels happily, tongue peeking out once again to wipe across his fingertips.

God, you wished he would lick you like that. 

"Tadashi, you're gonna break a tooth." you chide, even as you sink further into his lap. There was plenty of space on the couch, but you had somehow migrated to his lap sometime during the previous movie. The arm around your shoulder tightens, pulling you into a kiss on the cheek. It's greasy with butter residue, but somehow it still makes your heart flutter. 

Fuck. Only 3 months into the relationship and you were wrapped around his finger, watching movies that you didn’t have any interest in. Any little annoyance was forgotten as soon as he flashed you that freckled smile. Every little nuance you discovered made you fall deeper into .... like.

Not love. Like. You weren't ready to admit to the 'love' word quite yet, but it was getting closer. You had been 'in like' with Yamaguchi since shortly after he moved into the cubicle next to yours.  Maybe it had been the way he always remembered to grab you an extra sugar packet for your coffee, or the way he laughed at whatever podcast he was listening to that day, or the way he silently procrastinated at the end of the day so you could walk to bus together: whatever it was that won you over didn’t matter, what did matter was that Yamaguchi made you feel happier than anyone else.  It felt natural to be with him, to be held by him, to be ‘liked’ by him.

...Your only complaint was the pacing. One of the best and worst things about the two of you was that you were both polite, constantly dancing around unsaid boundaries, trying overly hard to respect each other, avoiding any situation that could possibly make the other one uncomfortable. Which meant your physical relationship was nothing more than the occasional kiss.

Honestly, you were beginning to think he didn't want to. His hands never wandered, his texts never turned dirty, and you certainly never initiated anything. It felt like there was never an opportunity to start anything; even now, sitting on his lap while wearing a sweatshirt he had left at your apartment weeks ago, it felt wrong to interrupt a wholesome moment.

Not that you didn't want to. God. You wanted to.

"You know,  I don't think anyone's ever worn my hoodie before." he comments, eyes never leaving the television. He’s enthralled with this stupid movie, even though he had seen it 'dozens of times.'

"Really? I’ve been wearing it as a shirt. " you grab at the fabric, "Do you want me to take it off? "

"Yeah, sure." he responds blankly, attention still glued to the movie. Then, he seemingly realizes what he said, face immediately erupting into a furious blush. He's quick to separate for you, almost spilling the entire bowl on the ground. You mirror him, unsure if you should laugh at his panic or cringe. "No! Do not take your shirt off! I do not want that!" 

"Tadashi. Calm down." You laugh, even as disappointment settles in the back of your throat. Does... does he really not want to see you undressed? Is this why you guys having had sex yet? Did he just see you as a friend? For his comfort and not your own, you inch farther away, back against the opposite arm as him. "It's fine, I get it."

"No, I-" he takes a moment to settle himself, "You look phenomenal with my hoodie on, I just, I don't want you to take your shirt off unless you want to, because it’s totally something I want. I think about it-" he pauses mid sentence, ears burning so red that his freckles seem to disappear, " I mean, if- I'm not like that- if you're not ready- that's not why I invited you over. I'm not expecting anything." 

He gives a nervous chuckle, widening the distance between the two of you more. You let his words sit, only the sound of the movie in the air. 

"So." you begin slowly. "You think about me without a shirt on?"

“I mean, of course.” He is acutely aware of the edge of the couch, his body teetering at the brink, but he bares it. "Can I tell you something? You can't laugh at me. Or think I'm a pervert." 

"I can't promise that. Are you, like.... sniffing my underwear or something?" you joke, a grin sneaking across your face.

He snorts and shakes his head almost violently. 

"Okay, no! Now the real thing doesn't sound as pervy." he adjusts only slightly, his shoulders unbunching themselves. Most of the tension in the air has melted away. That's what was so great about Yamaguchi; even when things turned awkward, they quickly returned to normal. "Do you remember that time Yakki split that water all over you?"

You roll your eyes at the memory. "Of course."

"And you had that little white blouse on?" he swallows, "My productivity at work dropped about 50% that day. It was so bad that the boss scolded me." 

"Yeah, because you were too busy worrying about me catching a cold!" you say, "You even gave me your jacket!" 

"No, I gave you my jacket because your shirt was see-through.” he admits, “My productivity dropped because all I could think about was how I wanted to take you and that little see-through shirt into the storage closet."  

Oh God. This is it. This is the opportunity. 

You lean forward with a tilt of your head, the gapping neck of the shirt falling forward past your collarbone. His eyes are glued to the neckline, tracing over the hint of skin, silently begging for more. You tuck your knees up under you and begin to crawl, only half convinced that this is sexy.  The closer you get, the more he can see down your shirt. His breath hitches slightly at the sight, but he doesn't dare to look away.

"Oh? What were you thinking about doing to me in that storage closet?" Yamaguchi lets his legs fall apart and, hesitantly, you place a hand between his knees, fingertips grazing the grey cotton of his sweatpants. The band of his bright red underwear peeks out from under his shirt and, without thinking, you trace over it with a pad of your finger. At the touch, he leans forward, lips tickling the shell of your ear as he speaks. Your heart is thrumming in your eardrum, so hard you can barely hear what he's saying. 

"First, I would have ripped that wet little shirt off, button by button." he chuckles, reaching to tuck a tendril of hair behind your ear. Your pussy clenches at the low rumble of his voice, so hard you feel like your stomach is cramping. "Then, I-"

A scream cuts through the room. The both of you jump forward into each other, knocking your skull against his jaw. Almost in unison, you both reel back: you clutching your ear, him clutching his lip.  The bowl spills across your laps, scattering popcorn all over the couch and floor as you both frantically search for the source of the noise. The dramatic music of the movie drums through you as some damsel in distress is running across the screen, screaming for help.

One beat. Two beats. 

Then, you laugh. It's one from the belly, that makes your gut ache from effort. You're trying to reach for Yamaguchi, make sure he's okay, but your eyes are watering, and your whole body shaking.  He's giggling too, still covering his lip. 

"The movie scared me!" you explain through tears. He nods in agreement, gesturing to the mess across his lap, including a huge butter stain across his crotch. It's not a funny moment, not when both of you are aching, but an intangible something has you both snorting and sobbing through giggles. The moment is way too long, way past the point of any humor, but Yamaguchi's snickering feeds into yours. 

Finally,  Yamaguchi manages to collect himself, scrunching his lips into a straight line. The corners of his mouth twitch upwards and you dissolve into giggles once again.

"I want to fuck you so bad right now." he breathes. His directness surprises you. "But not on top of the popcorn." 

You pull a deep breath, trying to center yourself. "We could move?"

"My roommate is going to kill me when he comes home to this mess." he says, but he stands anyway. You follow and his hand finds the small of your back, pulling you into him softly. He presses a kiss against your lips, warm and gentle, and then pulls back with a grimace. 

"I think you bruised me.” he touches his lower lip gingerly, as if testing it. 

“I’m sorry, we don’t-” he silences you with another kiss and now you can feel the swollen corner of his mouth, gritted slightly with salt. He clutches on to your top as he steps backwards, dragging you along with him so the kiss doesn’t break. Each step is rocky and unsure (you barely miss colliding into the wall) but you stay embraced, your hands clutching into his dark locks, partially to keep your balance as blindly follow. His hands trace up under your shirt, thumbs digging into the soft of your hips, pulling you flush against him, forcing you deeper and deeper into him until-

“Oh, shit.” he breaks away suddenly, pushing you back slightly. “I- my room- I need you to stay here.” 

“What are you talking about?”

“My room’s a mess, I really didn’t expect that you would- that we-” he shakes his head. “Gimme 30 seconds- please. I don’t want you to see me like this.”

You don’t object as he scuttles away, clicking the door firmly closed behind him. You can hear the muffled sounds of drawers slamming and objects being tossed about as you wait. It feels like you have been standing there, starting at the generic art hanging in the hall, for ages. It’s much longer than 30 seconds, but not quite the eternity it feels like.

The door creaks open and your favorite freckled face peeks out.  “Hi.” 

“Hi.” you repeat. Somehow, every amount of tension had returned in the scant amount of time you had been apart. Both of you knew what you wanted to do, but, the knowledge seemed heavy. It was an explored territory, sleeping with someone new. No matter what your past relationships were, each new experience with a new person (especially a new person you CARE about) brought its own pitfalls and challenges. It seems so serious, so scary, until you tear your eyes away from the floor and actually look your boyfriend in the eyes.

"Did you just brush your teeth?" you reach out and brush a little bit of white foam from the corner of his mouth with your thumb. He leans into your palm with a smile.

"I didn't want to taste like popcorn." he says and you can't help but laugh as he leads you into the room. It’s his brand of organized chaos; there’s clothes peeking out from the closet, miscellaneous knick knacks on the nightstand (including a still foamy toothbrush) and half hung posters across the walls. . You break away to sit on the bed, tracing over the pattern of the bedspread. 

“I like this.” you comment, “Very nice.” 

He nods, frozen in the doorway. Slowly, he reaches up to the lightswitch and flicks the light off. The darkness feels heavy with anticipation and worry as he pads around to the other side of the bed. He feels it too, you decide, as you watch his adam’s apple bob in the low light, this insane mixture of pressure and excitement.

For Yamaguchi, it’s the thoughts that usually plague his mind at night that grate away his confidence. The dreams of your skin between his fingers, your taste on his lips, are so close to reality, but he can't bring himself to make the first move. Even in the low light, he can see the curve of your waist, slowly contracting with every exhale. His own breathing matches your pace and, for some odd reason, that realization makes his chest burn with longing.

"I'm not expecting anything. If you don't want to." he reiterates as he lies down. How pathetic, he thinks. He really wasn't expecting anything, but, god, was he thinking about it. He'd been thinking about it since the first time he had seen you from across the If he could just reach out, just grab your collar and pull you to him, he could finally-

"Tadashi." his skin jumps at the sound of your voice and the sound of you shuffling, laying across the mattress. It's enough to knock him out of his thoughts and back into reality. He swallows back the tightness in his throat as he inches closer to you, his knees brushing against yours. He feels the gravity of the mattress shift as you shuffle closer and closer, until you're within inches of him.  You're almost face to face now, close enough that he can feel the way your breathing picks up as his hand finds your shoulder. You hum at the contact; he's warm. Even through the thick cotton, his skin is unusually hot against you. 

"You're like a little space heater." you whisper. Yamaguchi blinks, thinking, before his lips peel into a smile.

"Is that a good thing?" He doesn't wait for an answer.  He squeezes gently and you let him pull you forward, nose pressed against nose, hip against hip. His own shoulders shake with a silent laugh and you can't help but join him. It's something about the novelty of the situation, the joy in doing something new, breaking an unspoken boundary, that makes you laugh. You both dissolve into giggles, shifting closer and closer until you're laughing in each other's arms, fully pressed against each other. Even through your sweatpants you can feel the suggestion of his cock pressed against you, heavy against his thigh.

" ’Dashi." you whisper into the thin space between you. 

"I- Yeah?" he lets out a shaking breath. You take his hand and guide it to your chest, his fingers immediately cupping the flesh, massaging the flesh with a surprisingly steady touch. The way he sucks in air, fast, surprised, and hungry, sends heat pooling to your core.

"There's no popcorn here." you joke, "If you wanna fuck me." 

It's enough to break through his anxiety and he's against you again, this time with no laughter to keep your lips apart. His mouth finds yours, hungrily catching your lower lip between his teeth, tugging it ever so slowly. The sharpness makes you gasp and he uses the opportunity to kiss you deeper, tongue against yours. He tastes like his brand of toothpaste- soft and sweet mint. It's unexpectedly hungry, unexpectedly rough. 

The kiss doesn't break as he rolls over on to you, pressing your back into the down of his bed. His heart is already racing, battering against his ribs, as he continues tugging and teasing your breast, but he can't find it in himself to slow down. His free hand pushes up the hem of your shirt (his hoodie) to expose your chest. The kiss ends as he pulls away, forcing the short in-between your teeth, holding it up to give him free reign of your body. His head dips to join his hand, breath hot against your nipple. The cloth muffles your moan, but not enough to hide it from your lover.

He pauses, mouth open and tongue lulled out of his mouth, gazing up at you through his eyelashes. "Is this okay?" he's not touching you, but you can feel the low vibrations of his whisper against your skin.

"Yes, please." you whine through the sweatshirt, wrapping your hands into his hair. "Please, Please."

His tongue traces over your nipple delicately before he pulls back,  just far enough to watch it pebble under his touch.  He returns to work, clamping down and sucking, leaving the dull pain of a blossoming bruise behind. Your hips rut up into nothing, looking for any sort of friction.

He continues like this, leaving scattered marks across your skin as he worships you. Yamaguchi seems so content, just learning the scape of your body, but the building tension in your core is wearing thin.

Trailing touches down his body, you slipped your hands under the band of his sweatpants, gripping him through his boxers. Yamaguchi breaks, resting his forehead against your collar bone with a swallowed groan, as your fingers trace around the crown of his cock. Unwilling, he bucks into your light touch, dragging his length through your grasp. You tighten your fingers as he continues fucking himself against your palm, his own hands drifting to grasp your hips, pushing down your shorts just a fingers-length. Finger pads traced against the newly exposed skin, dipping lower and lower until tracing over the lace of your underwear.

"Wow." he breathes, lifting his head up to press a kiss against your chin. "Lift your hips for me, beautiful." 

You comply, letting him peel off your shorts and underwear in one pull. The cool night air made you shiver, but his warm hands soon returned to explore the newly exposed skin. 

"Oh, you're so..." his hand dips in between your legs, dragging a digit through your folds. The sound of your slick against his fingers makes his cock pulse in your grasp. He leaves his thought unfinished as he starts circling your clit with a steady touch. The pressure sends you keening, hips rolling into his touch eagerly, but he remains steady, patient.

He's building you up embarrassingly fast, leaving you sweaty and panting under his touch. Just as your legs start shaking, your body right on the brink, he withdraws. His tongue darts out to wipe away your fluids from his hand and he groans at the taste, eyes fluttering. 

"I'm sorry, beautiful. You can't  cum until I'm inside you." he whispers, sitting up to peel off his shirt. Clusters of freckles dapple his shoulders and it's all you can watch as he scrambles away to the nightstand drawer.  He returns a moment later, eager tearing through the tin foil packet with his teeth.

"Tadashi! Be careful!" you scold as you throw the blankets aside.

"It's not ripped!" he says, grabbing the bunched up shorts from the crook of your knee and tugging it completely off, dragging you a couple inches down the mattress with them. He tosses them aside as he pulls off his own; even though you just had your hand around it, the sight of his cock makes you anxious. It's thick, much thicker than you anticipated, and around leaking, a bead of precum catching at little light in the room.

As he begins rolling the condom on, you peel off your top and Yamaguchi's mouth falls open, eyes darting around the entirety of your body.

"Holy. You-" he sighs happily. "You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen." He surges forward, pressing you down into the mattress once again. His mouth is against yours, swallowing your whines. His hands are at the small of you back again. but now it's about but pure. He's forcefully angling your hips back and forth against his cock, dragging your clit against his spongy head and spreading your wetness against the plastic film. 

"I can't believe I get to fuck you." he says in between kisses. Yamaguchi continues to fuck your folds, his calm pace finally losing it's rhythm. "I can't believe I get to play with this perfect pussy. Can't wait to see you cum around my cock." With a trembling hand, he reaches down and presses his tip against your entrance, hesitating before sinking just the head inside you. The pop of his cockhead entering your cunt makes both of you gasp in unison- and another wave of giggles over takes the both of you.  As he dips down onto his elbows, eyes screwed shut, he doesn't make a move for a long moment, the only sound in the room is his steady breathing.

"I'm sorry, I'm just-." he presses a kiss against your neck, another laugh bubbling up, "You just- ah, you're so pretty. I can't believe this is real." 

Your hand catches his jaw, pulling his face up into yours. Your thumb traces over his cheek, tracing over the subtle dimpling of his pock marks. The freckles scattered across his cheeks, the crinkle at the corners of his eyes as he smiles- he's the beautiful one here. At your touch, he pushes further into you, steadily feeding your tight whole inch by inch, watching the way your mouth gapes and twists at the pressure. Once he's fully seated in you, he pauses, watching your chest move with each breath. 

"Dashi," you whine, hooking your ankles together around his waist, "You're so thick." 

"I know, you're doing such a good job." he presses a kiss against your forehead as he begins rolling his hips against you. Each thrust is rough, your hips angled up for him to sink his full length into you. "Keep being good for me, baby." 

With an unexpected strength, he tugs you closer, lifting your hips off the bed. Each stroke is steady, pumping his entire length in and out of you at a tantalizingly slow pace. His name falls out of your mouth like a prayer, begging for more, but he doesn’t oblige. It stays sinfully slow, building you up in a controlled burn. Each kiss, highlighted by the mingling of your hot breaths, is further raking the coals. 

“Is my pretty baby gonna cum for me? Look how great you’re taking me.” he groans.  He’s praising you blindly now, neither of you sure of exactly what he’s saying, all of his attention focused on grinding into you.

Your back arches further, and you’re seeing stars as he fucks you just right. You can barely keep your vision focused on him, those grey eyes clouded with concentration Your orgasm knocks the breath out of your lungs and you come undone with a strangled laugh, fisting the sheets desperately. The way you clench down around him makes his hips finally stutter, a hiss escaping his gritted teeth. Your chest is filled with a flurry of emotions as you sling your arms around his shoulders, unable to wipe away the goofy grin in your face. 

A few more snaps of his hips has him melting into you as he cums. He tucks his head under your jaw with a hum, dropping you on to the mattress. His hands find their way back to your chest, giving you a final squeeze.

"Fuck." he whispers into the soft of your neck as he withdraws. He's quick to peel off the condom and tie to off, discarding it off the side of the bed. Yamaguchi rolls onto his back, holding his arms open expectantly. "You're so hot when you laugh, you know that?" 

Curling into his arms, finding some sort of gross comfort in his sweaty warmth, you can't help but suppress another giggle.

"Hey, be careful. Keep laughing and we'll have to do that again." he grips your jaw, tilting your face towards him to capture you in a kiss. "Don't test me; I'll fuck you so hard you'll need a standing desk on Monday."

"Oh yeah?" you tease, your hand tracing down his chest, connecting his freckles. "Prove it."

"Oh, I will, come here-"

The distant sound of a door slamming catches your attention. "Yamaguchi, what the fuck?" a familiar voice echoes through the apartment. 

Yamaguchi shoots up, frantically searching for his pants in the sheets. "Fuck, I forgot about the popcorn!"

Can i request treasure when their s/o surprises them by coming home early from a trip

Hi, thank you for requesting and I apologise for not being able to do this sooner, I was on school camp!

Treasure Reaction To Their S/O Surprising Them By Coming Home Early From A Trip

Hyunsuk

He would have come home early in the morning from a very exhausting dance practice. He was covered in sweat completely drained, as he walked through the hallway he saw a familiar suitcase in the hallway, he would drop everything in his hands and race up the stairs, only to see you sleeping like a baby. All he had on his face was a beaming smile, he quickly took a shower and got into bed with you, coddling you.

Junkyu

He came home in the afternoon, from a quick photoshoot, that he woke up pretty early in the morning for. He would sigh as he removed his coat while walking up the stairs, all he could think about his fatigued mind and body, and how he would relieve it by sleeping it away, as he opened the bedroom, he saw you putting your clothes into your shared closet, all that fatigue vanished when he saw you. He would rush to you and hug you tightly as possible.

Jaehyuk

He woke up early for a dance practice, and while he was exiting the apartment he shared with you, the second he saw you was when he opened the front door. He would be taken aback at first, thinking that he was hallucinating since he missed you so much. Also, since you hadn’t informed him of coming home earlier than expected, the second that he realises that he isn’t hallucinating, he would start tearing up, and give you a hug, he would hold you in a hug for a while, breathing your scent in.

Yedam

He would be in his built-in studio at home (which also happens to be completely sound proof) you would have entered your shared apartment while he was in the studio working on a few songs, so he wouldn’t have heard you enetering at all. The second you had put all your clothes back into place, you would go into the studio, quietly creeping behind Yedam, then quickly covering his eyes. Now, Yedam would jump from fright since he was so engrossed in the making of his music, thinking that it might be one of the members, but the second he places his hands upon yours, he knows its you straight away. “Baby… I missed you.” He would say while wrapping his arms around you.

Haruto

Would probably be lazing around the house, bored out of his mind without you. But when he hears a knock on the door, he’s confused. He knew it couldn’t be you, since you were meant to come back home from the trip in about two weeks, so he just assumed that it was something that he had ordered online. As he opened the door, expecting it to be the mailman, he would frown seeing you, ‘Am I dreaming?’ Would he the first thought to run through his mind, Haruto would squish your face in different directions, messing up your hair, to see if it was too good to be true. You slapped his hand away made him realise that he wasn’t dreaming, “Why are you back?” He obviously said this with good intentions, poor boy would be confused as to why you came earlier than you told him you would, “It was meant to be a surprise” is all you can say, he would stare at you blankly for awhile before breaking out into a cheesy grin.

Jeongwoo

Like Haruto, would also be lazing around. Singing random songs while surfing the internet. When he hears the door knocking, he would straight away get up and answer it, he was aware of the fact that you had told him you would be coming home two weeks later, but that didn’t stop him from hoping that it was you at the door, you who had come home earlier. But when he opens that door and the smell of your perfume hits him, he throws his arms around you, “Y/N! Welcome home!” Would drag you and your luggage inside and let you rest while he made you some ramen.

Junghwan

He would be halfway through the hallway, frozen. He was staring at you confused, since it was completely unexpected. But that confusion would wash away quick, he would hug you and then show you all the dance moves he had learnt while you were away, while you show him all the gifts you bought for him.

𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈

[ PAIRING ] Vash the Stampede x reader x Millions Knives [ SYNOPSIS ] You get high with your sweet roommate and his weird brother. [ WORD COUNT ] 3k [ CONTENT ] Modern AU, no plot/just smut, dubcon (everyone's high), marijuana, lowkey plantcest, threesome (mmf), marking, of course Vash has a biting kink, handjob, oral sex, nipple play, sensory deprivation, finger sucking.

“I wish you would have said he was coming over,” you growled, mourning the loss of a lazy, hazy Sunday morning.

You were laying down on the couch, your feet resting in Vash’s lap. You wore one of his old shirts over a pair of comfy underwear while he was dressed in a pair of cotton running shorts and a loose fitting tank top.

Vash intently watched the baseball game you put on for background noise. It was cute, considering he didn’t know anything about sports. When your team hit a home run Vash looked at you, his puppy dog eyes sparkling with wonder, and said with full confidence, “The orange team scored a goal.”

He pouted. “I live here too, y’know? I’m allowed to have company.”

“All I ask for is fair warning. Your brother…” You groaned. “I don’t know. He weirds me out.”

Vash sighed. “I know, I know. But I told him to play nice.”

You sat up and glared. “Oh, whatever. Why did he even leave Alaska in the first place?”

“I think he’s lonely.”

“Did he not move up there to be alone? He hates everyone. Why the fuck would he be lonely?”

“Well he likes me,” Vash laughed.

You rolled your eyes and laid back down, your head hitting the arm rest. The vibe was sure to change with Nai’s arrival. He had a habit of sucking the air out of the room with his presence. It was like being locked up with a starved coyote.

And yet Vash brought out a devoted tenderness, one that radiated adoration. His brother was the only one who could coax a smile out of him. His grin was precious and fleeting like a nightblooming cereus flowering under a desert moon.

“That doesn't make him any easier to deal with though,” you whined.

“It’s gonna be fine,” he said, patting your leg. “You have nothing to worry about.”

Vash’s touch left your skin feeling voltaic. You hated that such a brief and simple gesture could render you reeling in milliseconds. Fortunately there was a knock on the door, breaking you free from your Vash-induced trance. Unfortunately the person beyond the door was a beacon of hostility. You grumbled and repositioned yourself on the other end of the couch. Vash got up and let his brother in.

“Hi!” he replied cheerfully, opening his arms for a hug.

Nai breezed past him, dropping his stuff down near the front door. He looked worn out, hostility tempered by a long flight. His platinum blonde hair was fluffy and askew, each strand riddled with sleep. His big blue eyes were half-lidded, obscuring the usual intensity of his gaze. His sweatpants were rumpled, hanging low on his hips and revealing a tuft of his pale happy trail. His shirt was slightly too short and it hugged his body, accentuating his hard earned muscles. An unbuttoned oversized flannel topped it off, the sleeves rolled up revealing his veiny forearms.

“How was your flight?” you asked even though you didn’t care.

Nai took Vash’s seat on the couch and sunk into it. He was clearly annoyed by your presence.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” His tone was dripping with impatience.

You couldn’t believe he was being so dismissive considering he was in your apartment.

“So I’m guessing it was bad,” you replied.

“I was stuck next to a screaming infant.”

“Oh fuck, that’s awful.”

“I know what you need to do,” Vash interjected with a playful grin.

“And what would that be exactly?” his brother asked.

You and Vash spoke at the same time.

“Get high!”

“Find somewhere else to stay!” 

Vash let out a little gasp and Nai weakly glared at you. “I’m kidding! It’s a joke. Like ha ha. It’s funny… Whatever. Yeah, smoke weed.”

Vash ran to his room and gathered his rolling papers and a mason jar full of fruity smelling marijuana. He sat on the floor in front of the coffee table and began to roll a joint. His dexterity and speed were awe inspiring. Watching him roll made you think of all the other incredible feats his fingers were capable of.

“I can’t even remember the last time I got high,” Nai mumbled.

“Is weed like extinct up there or something?” you asked knowing your wording would annoy him.

“Extinct? How could it be extinct if yo—I’m not going to even bother.”

“Smart man,” you laughed.

You were shocked to see a hint of a half-smile on his face. Maybe Nai had heeded Vash’s request to play nice.

“Wasn’t your last time with me?” Vash asked before licking the edge of the paper and sealing the joint.

“Probably. You’re the only stoner I know…  thankfully.”

You cocked your head to the side. “What do you mean by thankfully?”

“People that smoke weed are… hm. How do I put this? Obnoxious.”

Vash looked disappointed as he lit the joint. He took a hit and blew the smoke up at the ceiling. 

Nai continued, “And I hate the smell.”

“Why even smoke then?!”

Nai turned to you. “How can I say no to that face?”

The two of you directed your attention towards Vash. He looked up, big, blue eyes already red rimmed, and broke out into a goofy grin. His dimples were on full display, looking cute as hell. Nai had a point. How the fuck could you say no to such a precious creature?

“You can’t,” you confessed as Vash handed you the joint. You took a hit. “It’s a crime, like, a felony,” you continued, holding the smoke in your lungs.

You exhaled and passed the joint to Nai. He looked at the glowing, red cherry with mild disgust. He held it to his lips and took a long drag. He looked so confident, so cool.

However the illusion was fleeting. The second he tried to exhale he burst out into a cacophony of coughs with a melodramatic “WHY!?” in the middle. Vash got off the floor and took a seat in between you and Nai. He tended to his brother, rubbing his back as he tried to catch his breath.

“He gonna be okay?” you asked, plucking the joint from Nai’s fingers.

You took a hit and exhaled with little fanfare.

“I’d—” Nai continued to hack. “—shit—appreciate it if you didn’t talk about me like I’m not in the room.”

“I didn’t think you were capable of speaking.”

Vash put his arm around Nai, letting him bury his blushed face in his neck. You stifled a laugh and passed the joint to Vash. He took a lengthy drag and exhaled the smoke away from his sensitive brother.

“How are you feeling?” Vash asked softly.

Nai coughed pathetically. “Terrible.”

“That means you should smoke more,” you said. “You’re in like limbo right now. You’re existing in between worlds. Sobriety and fuckin’ uh… being high.”

“I–”

You completely disregarded Nai’s attempt to speak.

“You should shotgun him.”

Vash appeared to be deep in thought. “That’s a great idea,” he finally said.

“Yeah and it’s totally, um, altruistic. I gain nothing.”

You knew you were overselling it, but you couldn’t muster any discretion regarding your deranged desire.

“Is it going to hurt?” Nai asked trepidatiously.

You laughed. “Nope. It’ll actually make the smoke less like… harsh, y’know?”

“What do I have to do?”

Vash went to speak, but you were feeling gutsy and interrupted him.

“Your brother,” you said, pointing at Vash as if Nai wouldn’t know who his brother was, “is gonna take a hit. And then he’s gonna kiss you and exhale the smoke in your mouth… And it’s not gonna be weird at all.”

Again, you found yourself overselling the act, but it couldn’t be helped. It was bubbling up inside you. There was no escape. You were trapped, practically drowning in your perverted need to see them kiss.

“It’ll be a little weird,” Vash admitted. “But only a little.”

You wanted to strangle Vash. He was right of course, but you didn’t want the bleak truth to deter Nai.

“It’s gonna be great,” you reassured. “And your brother is like the perfect person to do it with.”

Vash batted his eyelashes and relit the joint. He was so cute you wanted to hit him.

“Alright. I’ll do it.”

You planted your head in Vash’s lap for a better view. He took a hit off the joint, holding the smoke in his lungs before passing it off to you. He gently held onto Nai’s jaw, running his thumb across his lip. He placed his other hand on the back of Nai’s head and stroked his undercut.

Nai’s cheeks were flushed, his eyes wide and nervous. You felt like you were going to fall to pieces once Vash leaned in and pressed his lips against Nai’s. You were utterly bewitched as he exhaled the smoke into his mouth. Nai looked like he was in a daze as Vash pulled away.

“Ca—can I try?” you asked.

“Sure,” Vash said enthusiastically.

“Not you,” you said, taking a hit off the joint.

You dropped it in the ashtray and clumsily lifted yourself up to kiss Nai. His lips were soft and his mouth tasted faintly of spearmint gum. After exhaling you slipped your tongue into his mouth, the smoke trailing out his nose. The odd positioning of your body betrayed you. Your arms gave out from under you, breaking the kiss. Your face was nestled in his crotch. You could feel his girthy cock against your nose.

Vash cleared his throat. “You okay?”

“I don’t know,” Nai muttered, stroking the back of your head like it was a kitten. “Can we put something else on? I can’t handle sports right now. The competitive nature of it all is taking years off of my life.”

“What’s the score?” you asked.

Vash said solemnly, “The orange guys are losing.”

“Ugh. Yeah… you can put something else on.”

“Any requests?” Vash asked, scanning the floor for the remote.

“A Fistful of Dollars. Or Once Upon a Time in the West… wait, no. Not that one. I hate that part where the guy has his neck in a noose, and sitting on his little brother’s shoulders is the only thing stopping him from getting hung.”

“Boriiiiiiing,” you heckled. You lifted yourself out of Nai’s lap. “I’ll fall a—fuckin’—sleep.”

You found yourself lost in Vash’s eyes. You felt bad for being so dismissive of him when he offered himself up to you.

“Well what do you have in mi—”

“It doesn’t matter. Can I kiss you?”

“Oh, so now you wanna kiss me?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know… You kinda hurt my feelings.”

“Vash, please.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, just kiss them already,” Nai groaned, reaching for the extinguished joint. “Where’s the lighter?”

Vash practically threw the lighter at his brother and pulled you into a sloppy kiss. He wasted no time shoving his tongue into your mouth and rolling it up against yours. His hands wandered down your back, holding you close to his body. Drool began to drip from the corners of your lips as he whimpered in your mouth. You braced yourself, hands pressing into his chest, feeling the softness of his relaxed muscles.

“Ouch, ow, ow,” Nai droned as he burned his thumb with the lighter’s flame.

Vash turned his head and wiped his mouth. “What? What happened?”

“Burnt my finger,” Nai replied, taking a hit off the joint. As Vash went to speak, Nai pushed the joint through his parted lips. “I’m fine.”

“Baby,” you teased.

“I’m hardly a baby for being averse to pain.”

“Hate to break it to you, but you’ll always be my baby” Vash said while exhaling.

“Can I be your baby?” you asked, grabbing the joint from him. You took a hit and let the smoke trail out of your mouth. “Please?”

“No,” Vash said before kissing you once more.

Nai groaned and plucked the joint from your fingers. He finished it off. He uncomfortably crossed and uncrossed his legs. You briefly opened your eyes and shifted your gaze to his lap. His cock was stiff against his sweatpants.

You reached over, placing your hand on his cock and stroked his tip. He coughed, choking on nothing but air. He grabbed a hold of your wrist and you waited for him to shove you away. But he didn’t. He guided it under his clothes. Your fingers danced along his shaft, feeling the veins snaking around his cock.

Vash bit down on your lower lip before kissing your jaw. He moved onto your neck, grazing it with his teeth. He sucked on your neck, interspersing his kisses with bites. You could feel the bruise blooming on your skin. You stroked the back of his head, his soft, flaxen hair slipping between your fingers.

Nai rutted against your hand. His cock leaked precum, leaving your palm sticky. His breathing was sharp and shallow.

“You like that, huh?” you cooed.

Nai nodded. The power you felt was insurmountable. You never thought you’d end up in such a situation with him. You always knew you’d hook up with Vash eventually because you resided under the same roof, but fucking around with his brother never crossed your mind.

Vash tugged at the neckline of your shirt and peppered your collarbones with kisses.

“Take it off,” he said, breath hot against your skin.

You let go of Nai’s cock and pulled your shirt off. Your nipples hardened as the cool air hit your chest. Nai whimpered, longing for the return of your touch. He took your hand and placed it back on his cock. You wrapped your hand around it, letting him fuck your fist.

Vash flicked his tongue against your nipple, drawing your attention back towards him. Nai followed his lead, latching onto the other one. Your cunt throbbed as they lapped at your breasts.

“Sh—shit,” Nai choked out as he came in your hand.

You continued to jerk him off, coating the shaft of his cock with his cum. You savored each of his breathy moans. His brows were knitted together, a sign of the bliss overwhelming his body. You were a little jealous, praying one of them would tend to your weeping cunt.

“I have a fun idea,” Vash said abruptly.

You let go of Nai’s cock and held your hand up to his face. “Lick it up… Uh, so what’s the fun idea?”

Nai reluctantly dragged his tongue along your hand, slipping it in between your fingers..

“Okay,” Vash said sitting up. “One of us will go down on you and you have to guess who it is.”

“What happens if I guess wrong?”

Vash shrugged. “You’ll… I’ll… Nothing I guess. I didn’t think that far ahead.”

“If you’re wrong, we get to fuck your face,” Nai said, shoving your hand away.

That didn’t seem like much of a consequence so you readily agreed. Nai scrambled to his duffle bag and pulled out the complimentary sleep mask he got on the plane. You put it on and tried to ignore its recycled air smell.

“Alright, ready?” they asked in unison.

“Mhm.”

You felt a pair of hands grip your hips and pull down your underwear. Your toes curled in anticipation as they traveled down your thighs. They hung around one of your ankles; the man between your legs was too impatient to remove them completely. He kissed the inside of your thighs and slipped his fingers inside your slick cunt. He spread apart your folds. His tongue slid in between them, teasing your hole.

He dragged his tongue along your clit before sucking on it. You couldn’t figure out who was going down on you and you didn’t really care. He lapped up the arousal that glazed your cunt. You rolled your hips against his face, the tip of his nose grazing your clit.

You tried to speak, but you couldn’t. The words got caught in your throat. All you could do is whimper. You heard a familiar laugh and could feel the sound of his amusement against your body.

“Don’t laugh,” you whined.

He continued to laugh before biting into your thigh.

“It’s Vash.”

“How did you know?!” he asked, ripping off the sleep mask.

“You fucking bit me!”

“And? Maybe he would have bit you too.”

“Nope,” Nai said. “You’re just that predictable.”

“What?!”

“Yeah, you’re like especially bitey,” you replied.

“No I’m not.”

“You bit me all the time as a kid.”

“And you’ve been biting me all day.”

Vash groaned and buried his face in your cunt. He paid special attention to your aching clit. His soft tongue was relentless. Your skin was tingling, every inch of your body singing. He lifted one of your legs over his shoulder. You felt like you were going to burst with pleasure.

Nai sat next to you on the couch and forced his fingers in your mouth. His face was adorned with a sick grin, his eyes dark with lust. You glanced down at Vash, his eyes mirroring his brother’s. All the attention sent you spiraling, falling deeper and deeper into lusty avidity. Nai’s fingers in your mouth did little to quiet you. Your moans were simply too powerful.

“Aww. You’re getting close, aren’t you?” Nai said, pulling his fingers out of your mouth.

A strand of spit clung from your mouth to his fingers.

“Uh-huh,” you mewled as Vash sucked on your clit.

Nai couldn’t have been more right. Your orgasm rushed through your body in no time, leaving rapture in its wake. It was transcendent. You felt like you were hovering above the couch. Vash biting the inside of your thigh was what brought you back to earth.

“I know…” You struggled to speak. “I know I guessed right, but I still want you guys to fuck my face.”

Vash immediately pulled down his shorts, revealing his throbbing cock.

“Hold on,” you sighed. Vash frowned and tucked it back into his shorts. “I wanna be on a bed.”

In one swift motion, Vash hoisted you over his shoulder. You hung over him like a limp noodle with no will of your own. Nai trailed behind and pinched the tender flesh of your ass. All you could think about was how lovely it would be to gag on their cocks.

In the Woods (Somewhere) - Mothman!Gojo

Ghost stories around the city whisper about a creature in the forest. They describe it as a moth like monster that only brings misfortune and death.

But what will you do as you learn these silly ghost stories are true flesh and bone… and now haunting you?

pairing: satoru gojo x f!reader

wc: 12.9k

warnings & tags: 18+ only MDNI, monster x human relationship, loose interpretation of the mothman legends and stories, death mentions, protectiveness & obsession that can be read as slight yandere like, lot of bug discussion, monster transformation with a touch of body horror, wound licking, blood & tear consumption, magical healing, car accident, allusion to f!oral receiving, kidnapping, character deaths (this ends happy I promise) feral and lovesick Gojo, if there is anything I missed please let me know!

a/n: this is my first submission to @willowser Haunted House Collab and I’m so honored to be part of this! Thank you for putting this together dear Willow! The title is from the lovely Hozier song. Also a big thanks to @skeletoncowboys for letting me scream about this monster & to @stellamancer for always being my dearest comrade in Gojo hell, enjoy and thanks for reading! Stay spooky!

Your grandfather once told you he believed butterflies were fairies and moths were angels.

It made sense to your child logic that butterflies could be fairy creatures. You even imagined fairies had butterfly wings. But, you had argued back in disgust that moths couldn’t be angels.

“Now now,” your grandpa had laughed. “Why can’t moths be angels?”

He gently explained moths were mainly seen in the evening and around light. He believed moths were the forms angels took to keep watch over everyone late in the night when no one believed they were being protected

“And,” he told you with all his sweet patience. “Something like a moth that loves the light can’t be bad.”

Scientifically you now understand moths mainly were nocturnal as a survival instinct for less predators and more opportunities for prey. Some were even active during the daytime. But your grandfather's words stay with you, etched into your heart.

He is why you are here after all.

The campus at night always holds a certain hollowness.

However, the storm that blew in yesterday continues looming with ominous clouds in the sky. It cast an early darkness against the city. The thick haze feels as if something could slink out of the shadows.

When you slip out of the research lab building there, against the light outside, one lone white moth flutters in the air.

Quickly glancing around the campus stretches out before you a vacant lot. In that moment of surveying, delicate wings rapidly flutter fast and wild against your face.

“Ack!” A surprised squawk leaves you at the moth’s sudden charge.

“I told you!” You hiss out waving the bug away. “You could’ve waited for me at home.”

The moth, outraged by your words, rushes against your face harder. Silk wings flap hard while it continues waving around your line of sight in a flurry.

“Calm down, you big baby!” You snap back annoyed and start stomping towards your car.

Now the little insect stops its fluttering attack to gently land on your face. As the bug travels across your cheek, its presence is a gentle tickling sensation. It finally stops and rests against you.

“Happy now?” You mutter low praying no one spots you with a large white moth on your face.

“I’m gonna pick up dinner. So are you getting in the car or meeting me back home?” You speak casual yet still within a low mutter.

With a delicate tickle again, the moth scurries across your cheek then across your nose making your lips twitch in a slight giggle.

Then the creature flutters away, your answer.

The pizzeria you end up at is adorably cozy. You spotted it during the drive to and from campus. Once you read the online reviews and got their blessing you decided to check it out.

Christmas lights hang from the takeout counter where you wait for your order. There’s even a quaint bar-like area. But what catches your attention is the small section of things littering the walls behind the counter.

It reminds you of a scrapbook.

Various newspaper clippings clutter one side. A few blurry photos are folded and pinned to the board. Plenty of hand drawn images scatter among the collage and they range from adorable to terrifying.

All of these things are about one single moth creature.

The board itself is even titled -

The Moth’s Nest.

Moth nests can be disastrous. They infect fast and are hard to exterminate. Plus once they create a nest, infestation is soon to follow.

“Ah, looking at our board.” A smooth voice purrs into the air and you turn towards it in slight embarrassment.

A beautiful blonde woman grins at you from behind the counter now.

“I heard the town had a moth thing but this…” from the drawings, which all included a strange humanoid like creature, this is far from the high moth population count it was known for.

The woman barks an amused laugh and it crinkles her rather lovely eyes.

“You could say that,” she grins. “You new here?”

“Sort of.” You nod. You’ve been here for almost a full semester now and you wonder if the newness will ever melt away.

“Well then, welcome to town!” The woman’s name is Yuki and for being a newcomer she pays for your pizza.

“Even though you got this for takeout, why don’t you stay? Eat here and keep me company.” She winks and you happily slide into the open seat she pulls up for you at the checkout counter.

“So what’s a lovely thing like yourself doing here?” Yuki asks smoothly and you almost choke on your first bite.

After she cackles a warm charismatic laugh, you swallow through your surprise and tell her.

“An en-tah what?” She caws confused like a bird and even her furrowed brows make you snicker.

“An entomologist,” you clarify.

In simple terms, you study bugs.

“Oh!” Yuki’s eyebrows fly fast up into her bangs as her eyes twinkle excitedly. “So you’re all about the creepy crawlers then.”

“Not all of them,” you reply back friendly.

You favored Odonatology and Lepidopterology.

The studies of dragonflies, damselflies, butterflies and in this case-

Moths.

“Well now,” Yuki grins and turns to glance at the board. “Looks like you’re in the right place to find moths.”

It was one of the reasons why you chose this program. The university boasted a plentiful and hands-on ecosystem to explore right within the town’s backyard. You just never expected an urban legend to come attached to the critter population.

Curiously you nudge your face towards the odd journalistic collection and ask about it.

Yuki’s face melts into a wistful look that casts a surprising shadow on her.

“It’s a creature that apparently lives in the woods…” she begins, low and steady.

No one knew how or when it began inhabiting the forest. Some argued it’s a simple folklore meant to scare rowdy kids from venturing into the woods.

“The stories say it’s an actual demon.” Yuki explains.

“There’s a belief that anyone who sees it either dies soon after or calamity befalls the town.”

Yuki’s words conjure up a poisonous fear. She adds how any sight of the cryptid, even in the strongest of nonbelievers, brought a sense of unease.

“But,” Yuki shrugs easily turning back to you. “Some people say that thing is a hero.”

The word hero gets tangled in your ribs

Your new friend explains there are those who have seen the beast and lived to tell a different tale.

Multiple children on different occasions have got lost in the woods. Yet, they always found their way out. Most of them claimed the moth creature helped them.

“There’s even an elderly man who went hiking and still swears up and down that thing saved him from getting attacked by a mountain lion.” Yuki comments.

“That’s a big claim.” You admire the thought of this monstrous creature possibly being a silent guardian. However, it festers something dangerous in your heart that weaves a sticky web.

The pizza on your plate grows cold. The lone drink you were nursing now is a watered down mess. You’ve lost your appetite and decide to head home.

There’s not much for your mind to process. It feels like the same sensation of walking out of a horror film and trying to understand what you saw. You try to rationalize this disorienting simply the same sensation you’d also get hearing ghost stories at sleepovers.

Yuki urges you with a warm charm that you’ll come and visit again, you promise her you will.

Walking out with leftovers in the box, the night greets you with a soupy fog. The lingering storms coat the streets in a mystic cloud.

You wonder if this clouded fog is inside your mind as well.

You’re about to take a step out into the parking lot when a horrifying animalistic shriek pierces the air.

It sounds distorted, a static shrill cry summoned from an ancient abomination.

The screech shoots straight into your bones startling you and making you jump in a pause.

In that moment a car speeding way too fast for a parking lot flies by you. It drives by with a whirling speed rattling the wind.

The noise, the shriek, stopped you from stepping out into the car’s path.

You mind buzzes, maybe too much. The gloomy air seeps into your skin and brings a heaviness over your body. You exhale shakily trying to just settle yourself as you head home.

When you return to the tiny closet of your apartment, there outside against the balcony door your white moth flutters furiously waiting for you.

Sliding the door open you’re about to greet your extra house guest until the text chime on your phone draws your attention away.

As you check your phone charging on the couch, a sudden thud lands against your apartment floors. The flapping of wings flutters into the room.

Before you can even turn around, a shadow falls over you. The presence of something large looms like a ghost, silent and steady yet radiating a chill besides you. Then a firm fuzzy face suddenly dives into the side of your neck burrowing against your skin.

“You need to be more careful.” A voice crystal and aware, yet flickering as if it speaks through the branches of the woods, clicks at you.

You think of the car that blazed by.

“It happens and I’m okay.” You reassure.

The inhuman face hiding in your neck draws back. Then a firm head soon enough gently butts against yours. The action jolts you out of your thoughts and you rapidly turn towards the heaviness leaning against you.

Crawled straight from the shadow of the woods, from the whispers of terrified stories, the creature before you still doesn’t seem real.

You think of Yuki and the moth’s nest board at the pizza shop. All the pictures depict the creature with haunting crimson eyes.

You wish you could have told Yuki the monster’s eyes aren’t red, but instead a piercing sky blue.

And instead of two eyes, the creature holds six beautiful eyes all over his face.

All six eyes of those eyes blink at you with the depth of a haunted lake shimmering within their gaze.

-.⊹˚₊⋆˙↟☾↟˙⋆₊˚⊹.-

“Why do you want to study insects?”

Discovering the cryptid could talk was honestly more surprising than discovering he was real.

Also, he had a name.

“Sa-to-ru.” He had told you, pronouncing its syllables as if your little human brain might not get it. It made you scowl. Yet the name itself sounded like something that fluttered out of the forest breeze.

Currently the moth creature, Satoru, sits happily on your apartment balcony under the dark cover of night. You have articles you need to read, lab reports to finish. But, you stay sitting on the floor beside him.

“My grandfather studied them.” You explain, giving the same answer you always do when this question is asked.

“He loved almost every type of bug there was.”

“Sounds like my type of human.” The moth amusedly chitters. “Love to meet him.”

“Honestly, he would’ve loved to meet you too.” You truthfully admit and almost grin thinking of how excited your grandpa would’ve been to see this creature.

“Unfortunately, he passed away a few years ago.” You add simply.

“Oh.” The cryptid replies quietly. “I’m sorry.”

You politely thank him.

“Is he the one besides the moth?”

You’re surprised Satoru even noticed that.

The frame sits on your eclectic shelf filled with books and trinkets. There’s two pictures in that frame. One is a photo of your grandfather during his days when he moved out here to teach at the university you currently attend. The other photo is you and him both holding up big nets when you were a little weed of a thing looking so happy besides him.

Besides those photos is his favorite sketch.

“It’s a luna moth, right?” He’s right again. Though, you’re not surprise he recognized it.

“Yup, the lunar moth was his favorite.” You fondly agree.

Actias luna.

Your grandpa used it as his example of how beautiful and lovely moths could be.

“He’s a man of good taste.” The moth compliments and for some reason it tugs at your lips. You can almost hear your grandfather's voice warmly boasting in pride.

“I wanna show you something, little human.” The moth quickly changes topic and when you turn to him, you find him grinning.

Rows of dangerous sharpened fangs flash within his mouth. They are a visible warning to not trust this creature, but you do.

“After your class this week, I’ll take you somewhere.” Satoru urges.

“Are you going to eat me?” You ask a bit stunned.

Satoru laughs, a flickering chirping noise that bounces off your apartment balcony.

“Oh little human, if I did eat humans I would’ve done that already.”

You glare at him but sighing you agree to whatever he has in store for you.

On your last class of the week, there outside against the campus street light your white moth flutters excitedly.

You think about how dangerous it is that he sticks around campus, even in this form.

With a rapid flurry he flies around your face. You can’t help but snort at the tickling sensation.

“Yeah I’m here, let’s go.” You tease.

Under the twilight hazee, you follow the moth into the woods.

The setting sun casts a shadow over the stretching forest. The trees silently watch your hesitant trek as you follow the moth further into the thickness.

Eventually you’re in the heart of it. No noise greets you, not even the rustling of birds or the fleeing of other animals. It’s as if in this depth all life had stilled. No movement or sign of life encroaches into this space. You realize this might have been the most ridiculous idea, following this cryptid myth into the unknown.

Suddenly the moth stops in front of a large solid tree.

“This is what you wanted to show me?” You’re a bit confused. The insect flutters around you in a huffy flight then goes to spin around the tree.

Satoru himself now slides out from behind the tree in his humanoid form.

“It’s not just a tree.” His six eyes narrow at you annoyed. Your eyes roll exhausted with him already.

“Do you trust me?”

The question surprises you.

Hesitantly you nod, a quiet yes. Satoru then effortlessly scoops you into his arms as if you weigh nothing.

A wild squeak escapes you. His firm arms hold you in his grasp and your mind starts scrambling being this close to him. The fur of his body tickles your arms and the solid warmth of him curls around you.

Satoru’s chittering laugh bounces among the trees.

He then takes flight.

You swallow back a petrified screech threatening to escape and simply let the wind rush around you. A solid thud comes, a landing.

“Open your eyes, little human.” Satoru whispers excited.

You hadn’t realized you had closed them.

The nest before you is a cobwebbed cocoon. You had never seen one this big. The opening of it is carved out wide, a webbed open maw with secrets trying to draw you in.

“Go in, you can see more.” His wistful voice skitters out playful, so light it could get caught in the tree branches.

He’s eager to show you this.

Hesitantly you lean into the nest just to glance inside.

It’s actually rather cozy. Webs and branches twist in a delicate pattern to create a solid enclosing. Leaves scatter the inside floor that is rather large. You can even imagine his large form curled in here cat-like as he sleeps.

“So? What do you think?” He asks with an anticipated edge blooming in his voice. He’s showing you his home.

You remember when he first showed himself to you, even gave you his name.

The logical reasoning within you thought many times about studying this cryptid. There was even a fleeting moment you considered capturing him and returning him back to the lab.

Now you are here discovering his home. You find yourself wanting to unearth as much as you can of this incredibly infuriating but wonderfully interesting creature.

“It’s nice!” You earnestly admire the space. Yet, the truth whispers a harrowing fact.

The bigger the nest, the bigger the infection and danger.

So you instead turn to glance out to the forest around. You’re so high above in the canopy of the trees. Silence seems to settle thicker here among the sky and it mingles with the evening darkness.

The forest, even as tranquil as it appears, holds a sense of loneliness you can’t fully describe.

“Have you been here at this spot for long?”

He chirps a humming yes.

“The high placement keeps me safe and away from prying eyes.” Among the trees and leaves he is simply a shadow.

“Do people try to hunt you?” That grim thought arrives.

“A few try, but no one’s even come close.” A cocky pride brims in Satoru’s tone.

You understand why people would try and search for him. But to hunt him like some prized sport? So you have to ask why.

“Besides some humans believe killing me will solve and save them from all their disasters, a select few who want me for other purposes.” Satoru muses as his antennas twitch.

“What other purposes?” You glance back at the cryptid perched on the solid large branch beside you.

In the dark, all six eyes glimmer with an animalistic reflection, a haunting gleam and reminder of the creature's true nature before you.

All those months ago, these multiple eyes stared at you from the edge of the woods by your apartment and the campus like silent terrors. Now they watch you with intent safety right by your side.

“There’s an old legend…” Satoru answers. “It says my kind could bring someone back from the dead.”

The words spark a curious flame in you.

“Wait, really? Is it true?”

The moth being simply shrugs, an action so human you almost want to laugh.

“Some believe it. That’s enough to hunt my kind.”

So many questions cluster in your mind. You wonder more about his kind, about him. Yet there is no way to scoop all those questions out.

All you can do is gaze out at the scenery before you.

The trees pierce the darkness with their own spiked tendrils. The night sky blankets above you with twinkle stars, glimmering pockets of faint light so clear.

Yet, for some reason this again feels so lonely.

Even with the stretching comforting woods, you can’t shake the sensation of solitude slipping out.

“So why do you still stick around?” You suddenly ask not even understanding why yourself.

“What? Around you or here?” He asks.

“Both.”

A chirp of a sigh comes, heavy with an ancient weary.

“I’ve thought about leaving, migrating somewhere else, somewhere safer.” His voice drops gently, a small click in the wind.

“But…” His voice trails off even more delicate.

“Something just keeps…pulling me back here. Like I’m meant to be here. That I’ve been waiting for something.” You’ve never heard him this wistful and distant.

Then his response also has you curious.

“Do you have any idea what it is?” You cautiously and gently press.

“No idea.” His answer is rapidly too casual that you snort, shaking your head.

“And why am I still hanging around you? Who knows, maybe I just like to bug you.”

The pun isn’t lost especially on you and you groan annoyed even though a smile twitches at your lips.

Among the shade of stars and shadow of the forest, you sit with a creature of the darkness.

-.⊹˚₊⋆˙↟☾↟˙⋆₊˚⊹.-

The moth had first appeared at your window balcony dancing around the light like an ethereal wisp of a spirit. It happily flew around you and even spun around your entire apartment. You eventually had to shoo it out.

For a while, it was simply you and this strangely persistent moth.

After that, six eyes began appearing at night at the edge of the woods. Strange clicks like howls erupted in the air, haunting lingering sounds that rattled you.

That same week the moth showed up to your apartment flying in a bit of distress. The wings of it flapped slower and you wondered if it was dehydrated or dying.

As you had opened the sliding door to the balcony, that’s when you first witnessed it.

Like butterflies, moths go through a similar life cycle of emerging from a pupa or chrysalis. The new adult insects must crawl out of its old cocoon. The process is the blend of life and destruction.

You discovered the same applied to moth creatures.

The wings fell first then the twisting and emergence of a body from the small frame transformed to life a fully formed creature.

That first time the moth creature metamorphosed on the balcony you screamed so loud your neighbor across the hall came worriedly to check on you.

You had hoped it was all just a bad dream…

Now when you return home early, that monster rests in your bed instead of lurking under it like all the scary stories whisper where monsters lie.

Curled within the sheets, burrowed deep and taking up the entire frame, the creature slumbers. You barely can spot Satoru underneath all the pillows. A few of your shirts peek out from the swirl of blankets and you try not to linger on that.

The messy twisted bed cocoon however does make you think of the grand nest you saw.

A faint snore grumbles out into the room. The muffled animalistic noise should frighten you. Instead it echoes a soothing rumble as you go to make dinner.

In the meditative process of cutting, claws scratching against the tile floor startles you. Your heart skips at the sudden noise and your face whips to the entryway.

In this form, the moth cryptid has to hunch from touching the ceiling.

Satoru’s imposing frame fills up the entire space even with his thick wings folded to his body. The intricate beautiful antennas on top of his head flicker curious. Among the monstrous features, human-like qualities are visible in his arms, his legs, and the core of his body. Yet even in that familiarity, he is covered in sleek fur.

The sigh of this unbelievable being in this tiny kitchen almost has you laughing. Months ago this would have made you scream in terror. Now, his existence has settled into your life a strange blooming metamorphosis.

Then all six of Satoru’s clustered eyes go wide in terror.

His talons rattle rapidly on the floor as he scurries to your side.

“Your hand.” He comments sharply.

Glancing down, blood trickles over your hand and drips softly onto the cutting board. The cut thankfully isn’t deep, simply sliced the top of your finger.

“Guess that means I’m ordering out.” You mutter.

However your new companion immediately snags your hand.

Satoru’s grasp is hard, a terrified clutch as if he’s worried the cut will worsen. Flickering your gaze to him now, all six eyes focus at your hand with a startling petrified seriousness.

“I’m fine.” You reassure. “Let me just grab a band aid.”

The creature’s firm hold is unrelenting, refusing to budge even as you tug to release your hand.

“Hey-” you’re about ready to chide him and urge him to let go-

Until the moth cryptid leans down and with a long thin tongue begins licking at your wound.

Air gets knocked out of your lungs.

You mind can’t process the sight but the wet tickle of his tongue swiping along your skin grounds you. Satoru’s tongue swipes frantically and fast, a panic.

A dangerous heat runs up your arm and claws at your chest. This shouldn’t feel this intimate. Yet, it does.

You can’t even exclaim in surprise because in the small dimly lit kitchen, the moth has you under his spell.

Instead of the panic, there’s now an eased almost lazy and leisurely lap at your skin. The way his tongue slides across you is as if he’s trying to savor you. It slithers with a reverence between your knuckles, across your fingers, and your mind slowly melts.

Then with one last slow deliberate lick, Satoru draws back.

A daze has fallen over your foggy mind filled with smoke until you blink and notice your cut is gone.

Blood faintly lingers around his mouth, coloring the white fur of his face and it should scare you. And it does but the fear comes from how gorgeous he looks, and knowing it’s your blood…

The thin tongue immediately darts out to lick at the bloody traces.

The sight teeters into an overwhelming sensation and you forcibly break your focus to glance back at your healed hand.

“You have healing powers?” You croak out trying to process the sight.

“No.” For a creature that lives in the woods, he understands sarcasm rather well.

You glare at the creature who now tilts his face away. He avoids your eyes as he fiddles with the edge of your shirt.

“Moths can't heal.” You comment.

“I’m not like a typical moth now am I, little human?”

That damn nickname.

Annoying as Satoru is, you still can’t believe the sight of your healed fingers.

“Thank you for healing me.” You mutter still not able to process but are grateful all the same.

The moth creature hums a proud amused thing you quietly ignore.

Moths didn’t have healing properties. Hawk Moths could recreate antioxidants in their body to replenish themselves. You wonder if that’s how Satoru operates with his abilities.

Another part of you, one that sounds warmly like your grandfather’s voice, whispers that the creatures of this world simply hold mysteries we may not ever know.

You suppose the cryptid refusing to leave your side is the solidified truth of that.

Suddenly Satoru’s head softly plops against the top of yours.

With soft gentle rumbles he rubs his face into your hair.

“You know,” you begin softly as your fingers itch to run up against his fur. “You don’t have to keep sticking around here.”

“Hm?” Satoru hums out a bit dreamily.

“You can go back to where you’re from. You don’t need to keep staying with me out of obligation for freeing you or feeling like… you have a debt you want to repay.” You breathe the words out firmer.

The nuzzling against your head stops.

“Oh?” Satoru begins with a curious chirp. “That’s not why I stay.”

His confident reply stills you.

“Like I said maybe I just like bugging you.” He grins coy. “And besides, I stay because eating the fabric of your clothes is pretty nice free food and I like scaring away any humans that might come by.”

“You bring me closer to buying an electric fly swatter!” You screech and swat him away.

“Aw, don’t be like that!” He whines and flutters his wings almost taken back.

You ignore him and his annoying clicks vying for your attention while you order dinner for the night.

“I forget…Humans are so easily annoyed. You most especially.” He says bristly and it’s the last straw.

Healing your arm or not, this creature manages to wiggle under your skin in a way that no one else has. You blame the damn moth for how on edge you feel. Yet the truth lies in the strange unfathomable heat still brewing under your skin.

As you leave you get food you stare at him hard. You sling the balcony door open, a silent demand he leaves. His multiple eyes, shimmering sapphires, search your face.

“I see...” His reply is a brisk breeze.

Turning your back to him, you head to grab your keys. You don’t even see him leave and instead stomp to head out.

You even fully close your bedroom window. It’s the crack of an entrance you’ve recently been leaving open that allows him to flutter in when he’s a smaller moth.

Now as leave you’re thankful for the momentary space from the infuriating infestation.

Against the early night sky the pizzeria glows an electric beacon against the darkness. Clamoring chatter and an upbeat song greet you when you step inside. You’re not surprised it’s packed on a night like this.

Yuki yells a bright excited welcome at you from across the restaurant and it warms you.

Now leaning at the bar your attention can't help but find its way to the bulletin board by the entryway. Even with the annoyance and conflicting desire, seeing the arranged clutter about the local moth creature draws out a strange sinking feeling within you.

“You interested in the bug?”

A deep rumble of a voice drips out smooth and breaks your focus immediately.

Turning to the side, you discover you’re not alone at the bar.

The man is thick, solidly built and strikingly handsome. He seems older than you, with an aged weathered dignified presence about him. With only black hair and a scar across the corner of his lip, he sits looking bored at the counter with a toothpick in his mouth.

“It’s interesting.” You admit truthfully.

“Think the bug is real?” The man questions with the faintest hint of curiosity.

You shrug again. “Anything is possible I guess.”

“Indeed it is.” Now his voice holds an interested purr that sticks to your skin in an uncomfortable way.

Your eyes flicker back to him and you find his attention however is on the board.

“Some say it’s a demon.” He suddenly adds.

“I’ve heard.” You agree calmly.

“Whatever it is…it’s bad luck.” The mystery man says briskly.

You heard that as well.

“Some say it’s not.” For some reason, a small protective spike rises in you and you even think about Yuki calling it a hero.

“Yeah well, everyone can read an omen wrong I guess.” His words cast a dangerous thickness into the air that slithers up your skin.

“Besides, there’s an old legend I heard once.” he continues.

“It says…if a moth flies into your home it means someone is going to die.”

Dread crashes into your body and consumes you quickly. You’ve never heard that saying before and it bubbles an awful bile in your stomach making you feel sick.

“That’s awful.” You can’t help but answer back sharply it even surprises you.

You think of your grandfather, his belief moths were angels, and how that guided you to where you are now.

And you can’t help but think of the moth in question.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to upset you.” He leans back into his seat to stare at you.

No response for him seems to come to mind. If anything, a strange chill trickles down your spine as if you’re staring down a creature surveying and waiting to strike.

Yuki calls out your name and breaks your focus.

“Wish I could stay and chat but we’re a bit busy tonight!” She winks at you and now you grin, eased at her presence.

You wish her a good night and begin gathering your order to leave.

“Be careful out there.” The stranger mutters. Your eyes flicker to him. His attention is back on the slice of pizza before him.

“Don’t know what might be out there trying to fly into your house this time of night.”

His words create a sticky cobweb of emotions in you. You simply take your food and rush out.

Driving back to the apartment you glance at your hand fully healed and still lingering with the phantom sensation of the moth’s tongue licking at your skin.

You think of how effortlessly this strange creature carved a space in your life.

Now a sense of danger prickles against your skin, like the way the air tightens electric before a storm.

When you arrive home, a silent apartment greets you. The emptiness clouds your space and the walls creep in close and cold.

A piece of you expected him to return, maybe even hoped. But trying to sort through those emotions again bubbles a strange ache in your chest.

Before you go to bed you slightly open your bedroom window and settle under the covers. Closing your eyes, you accept the silence and solitude lingering in your room and heart.

Sleep trickles in faintly. You fade in and out of being awake.

Then your bed shifts.

A heaviness immediately curls against you. The softest brush of moth wings graze your arm. Soft chirps, faint and delicate, float into the room.

Satoru’s face burrows against the top of your head, a silent apology.

This is new.

He’s never done this before. He’s never slept on your bed with you. But your heart races too fast in your chest and your mind still feels so clouded from this night that you can’t even react.

Or, you don’t want to react.

This is new, yes. But a wild desperation inside of you sinks its claws into this new proximity. You simply keep your eyes closed and shift to settle deeper into the bed, deeper into his warmth.

The smell of the brisk forest, clear and earthy, lulls you to sleep.

Waking up the next morning, you’re alone.

A part of you wonders if you dreamed his return.

Yet on your nightstand rests a sweet plucked wildflower that wasn't there before. It greets you a bright good morning.

-.⊹˚₊⋆˙↟☾↟˙⋆₊˚⊹.-

Your open apartment balcony door brings in a warm evening breeze. A favorite series of yours plays on the television as you grab another mouthful of popcorn.

“Can I have some?” Satoru whimpers.

“No.” You answer through the mouth of popcorn.

“So mean! Why are you so cruel to me, little human!?” He pouts and you simply ignore him.

Even with the moth creature crouching on the floor his body still looks frightfully full and large. His fur is fluffed out more and he almost looks adorable like this simply sitting beside you.

His presence should create a distorted sense of reality. Yet no sense of panic rises within you. If anything, only more curiosity has started gnawing in you.

What kind of moth species did he originate from? Where was he even originally from? Did he have a family?

“What’s your favorite human activity to do?” It seems you were not the only one curious.

Recently Satoru has begun pestering you with a plethora of questions from what foods did you like the most to these more strange human specific ones.

“Don’t know, I have a lot.” You answer truthfully.

You rationalize all the questions you have and that he even asks are mutual inquisitive curiosity about the other’s species, a chance to learn.

Except, for you, the source of your curiosity masquerades as a yearning you don’t want to hunt out yet.

“Humans are terrified of the oddest things.”

Satoru’s comment breaks your thoughts.

You turn towards the creature who stares at the television with all six eyes.

The series you had put on had been an old favorite of yours, supernatural and fantasy based. The main heroes in this episode were being terrorized by monsters that came alive from a children’s book of old fairy tales.

“Well this series is older so the effects and monster makeup isn’t all that impressive.”

“Not that.” The moth corrects you quickly. “I mean that creature isn’t even scary.”

You want to make a comment about how of course a creature that crawled from the woods and haunts a town would not find this terrifying.

“What are you afraid of?” Again the moth humanoid questions.

You shrug. “A lot of things.”

“You don’t need to be afraid of anything.” He chirps so matter of factly it surprises you. “Especially because I’m here now.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes at his cocky boast. Yet your heart flips at the protective claim.

“But…I do think humans may be the scariest creatures of all.” Satoru notes with a wistful distance in his voice.

You wonder if he’s trying to tease you or even be a bit poetically pessimistic.

“I agree.” You nod reaching for popcorn. “Humans can sometimes be scary.”

In all the beauty that comes with being human, you know there is a darkness that comes with the territory. The lovely prickle of rain starting to fall soothes you as the episode jumps to the next.

It’s one of your favorites. The main character gains a secret wish stone that transforms into her love interest because she desires and wishes for him most of all.

You rise to the kitchen to grab a drink.

“What do you wish for most, little human?”

His words stop you frozen. They come out so simple, a curious purr almost.

Your mind tries to reach towards something noble and grand like to wish for world peace or wish for climate change to end. You think of wishing for a better car, better apartment, to get rid of your money problems.

Yet it all cultivates into a simple easy response.

“Love, I guess.” It’s a simplified answer.

“That?” Even Satoru sounds dubious.

“Yeah…love. If you have love, then everything else sort of just falls into place.” With love at the cornerstone, everything can build from there.

A chittering like sigh dances into the room.

“Boring. At least say something interesting like an endless supply of sugar or something like that.”

You can’t help but snort at such a silly answer.

“Is that you’d wish for then?” You now ask the creature.

“Mhm…maybe. Or maybe something extra special your little human mind couldn’t comprehend.” Such a coy response only makes you roll your eyes.

But for some reason, that answer feels heavy like it needs to be unearthed. You don’t push the answer, or him.

As you clean up around the kitchen, you glance back to the living room. There Satoru rapidly consumes all your popcorn as fast as he can.

“You freaking pest!” You screech annoyed and he simply blinks his six blue marble eyes at you as if he did nothing wrong.

“I’m not a pest.” He replies innocently and it annoys you even more.

“You’re literally a moth! What is more pest-like than that?!”

Satoru’s monstrous face flickers. It faintly crumbles until his eyes hollow out a cold downcast.

“Right there? You just sounded just like every other human.” His words, low, raw and sharp, rip through you.

He doesn’t say it but you hear the undercurrent.

I thought you were better than that.

A festering ache swells in your chest as the weight of his words drag you under.

Quietly you start making two bowls of popcorn now. You grab the chocolate syrup. Satoru had a fierce sweet tooth. It took you by surprise when your gas station candy treat went missing and his sticky fur said enough.

So you drizzle plenty of chocolate over the salty snack then you quietly speak.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

A moment of silence fills the space.

“It’s alright little human... Sometimes I forget your little human brain makes so many mistakes like that. I can’t get too mad.” He chirps so bored.

You’re tempted now to throw away the chocolate popcorn.

Thankfully the air seems to lighten as you head back to the living room two popcorn bowls in hand.

There Satoru’s multitude of eyes are entirely glued to the television now. The familiar dialogue comes and you whip your attention to the screen as well.

The big realization between the main heroine and her love interest unfolds as he realizes what her wish manifested as.

The moment is heated, drenched in undeniable chemistry. The magnetic pull even has you entrapped. Then the love interest without hesitation pulls the heroine and kisses her with a fierce released love.

Now it feels so intimate, too raw to watch. You turn away under the guise of grabbing more popcorn.

“Is that how humans show affection?” Satoru’s voice is a curious twinkle of a chirp.

“Yup,” you weakly agree while you check your phone hoping to seem disinterested.

“Seems aggressive.” For some reason his disgusted comment makes you snort.

“Uh, it depends. Kissing is…” there’s much you can say on the manner but you simply shrug.

“It’s nice.” A simple but true answer.

“What’s it feel like?” The question drips with an inquisitive click but for some reason it slithers dangerously under your skin.

“Uh…again, it depends. There’s different types of kisses for different situations and the emotions can change with them.” You explain.

“Sounds complicated.” Satoru muses and you snicker relaxed with the episode ending.

“I thought you knew all about human interactions?” You now ask, curious yourself.

“Not in that way.” That’s fair.

“Or really…I’ve just never been interested in seeing humans interacting in that way.” He adds rather low.

“Until recently.” That addition he gives cuts across you as if it’s covered with sharp glass edges.

“Guess this series does that, even to moth creatures.” You lightly try diffusing whatever shift starts to swirl in the room and drag you into its current.

Satoru stays quiet, curled into himself and his wings. Very faintly his antennas droop, enough that you notice it.

Rain now steadily prattles on peacefully mixing with the episode playing. Yet in the silence your skin crawls with something unspoken you can’t evade.

You close your eyes hoping to avoid any more questions and pretend you’ve fallen asleep. Naturally, a nap overtakes you and you jolt awake when a text message brightly wakes you up.

“So what episode are we on?” You sleepily ask, noticing the cryptid hasn’t left. Evening would be arriving soon, the time Satoru normally slipped back into the woods.

“A weird one.” He mutters and now curiosity flickers in you over which episode it is.

Your eyes widen.

Of course it would be this one.

The heroine’s best friend falls in love with a monster living in a cave. It’s another one of your favorites. Now, the obvious reality sinks its fangs into your throat.

“This is the most ridiculous one by far.” Satoru scoffs. “No human would actually love a monster like this.”

His words deflate something in you. All the nerves and prickling emotions scatter.

“I don’t know.” You offer back lightly. “Maybe there’s something extra human to love a monster.”

All six eyes rapidly blink towards you. Their glassy yet sharp attention focuses so intently and it’s unnerving.

“You don’t mean that.” He snips and it distorts his voice more than normal.

You shrug.

“What do you mean by that?” He annoyingly asks, persistent.

What you mean is sometimes humanity can see through what society deems as monstrous and instead love the core of what a being is.

“I mean, it’s like what the episode says,” you nudge towards the television.

“If love is fanged even between humans, why can’t a monster find that same love?” You quote it vaguely but enough to capture the core.

The same goes for humans you explain.

“Cause like what we said earlier, humans are a bit scary from time to time right? A little bit monstrous ourselves?”

So why not settle with a love fanged and coated in the shadows.

The episode takes a shift when the heroine’s best friend greedily kisses the bat-like creature. An electric desire jolts across your spine as it dries your throat.

“I never knew humans could…desire something like this.” Satoru’s eyes now unabashedly stare at the television with a religious focus almost afraid to look away.

“Some do.” You try sounding casual, but your voice croaks.

A heavy fog clouds your mind. Before he can ask or comment anything else you brightly announce you’re going to take a shower. You scurry to the bathroom without even once glancing at the moth monster.

It’s a pathetic excuse but it’s early evening now. This decision isn’t entirely out of the blue. You just need to cool down and take yourself away from the moment.

However, under the weight of the water, under the heat of the steam, you try washing away the festering arousal seeping into your veins.

The episode flashes in your mind. Except this time you picture yourself in the arms of the towering moth creature.

This danger has been brewing well beneath the surface and now slips past its shackles.

It rips you open raw and wild, unrelenting in a way that a slick heat already pools between your legs. You should not, by all rational means, be attracted much less so attached to this monster. Yet, you are.

You remember how easily he swept you into his arms, how solid and built his frame is. He is stunning. You can’t even deny that.

You even think about how comforting a presence he was in your bed. Those thoughts melt and mutate dangerously.

Now, you imagine how warm and solid he would feel against you, between your legs. What he looks like drunk on pleasure-

Exhaling shakily, you turn the shower as cold as you can.

When you return to the living room after the shower, the sliding door is still wide open. Rain continues to twinkle its beautiful song into the living room, a living room now very vacant.

No moth creature is in sight and the bowl of chocolate drizzled popcorn remains untouched.

-.⊹˚₊⋆˙↟☾↟˙⋆₊˚⊹.-

In the research lab you grade quizzes from the class you work assisting with. This time during the week the lab is thankfully empty and it gives you time

to catch up on your articles and work.

A surprise knock however disrupts that peace.

Your advisor walks in with a warm grin. Besides her is the man from the bar.

A confused anxiousness seizes your heart and you try keeping your face composed.

You politely smile as your advisor calls your name.

“This is Toji Fushiguro. He’s an agent from the local conservation group trying to investigate where our dear little moth friend went.” Your advisor explains polite and casual.

Your heart sinks rapidly.

The unknown moth had been in a large observation box the first time you saw it.

It had been a new and recent find. Being a first year in the program, you simply were allowed to watch and observe the new species.

Bigger than a typical silk moth, the unidentified moth had beautiful intricate designs on its wings you’d never seen. The little creature was also incredibly feisty. On multiple occasions it flew into the side of the box as if trying to push its way out.

Now that glass enclosure sits empty.

“Do you think it would be alright if he asks you a few questions?”

You happily agree hoping that cooperating will divert any attention from yourself.

With a grin your advisor leaves the room to give you and Fushiguro space. Now alone with the man from the bar, he sleepy grins a coy amused thing.

“So, we meet again.” That deep voice sulks out with a lure that feels poisonous and sticky.

“We do.” You nod politely.

“Shouldn’t be surprised you’re a bug fan.” He scratches at his jaw and for some reason his casual attitude towards you twists your stomach.

You want to make a witty comeback but nothing comes to mind. Instead you stare down this mysterious man.

“What makes a cutie like you get into bugs huh?” He asks casually.

“My grandfather.” You answer truthful and curt.

“Hm, that’s nice.” Fushiguro nods understandingly.

His eyes begin scanning the lab with that same boredom he wore at the restaurant bar.

“So when did ya let the moth escape?” His relaxed question makes you choke.

“Excuse me?!” You snap. “I didn’t let the moth out.”

Except you had.

The first night you stayed late at the lab you accidentally forgot to close the windows.

In that mishap, the moth escaped. You were thankful another class used the lab after you and disrupted the possibility of anything being pinned to you.

The department of course was a bit disheartened. However, everyone warmly joked about half of the job of being an entomologist is chasing after things way too fast to catch.

That happened months ago.

“I’m going to be honest with you.” Toji Fushiguro leans against the table with a brazen ease. “I’m here looking for that thing cause it’s dangerous.”

For some reason, you don’t fully believe him.

“Remember what I told you about moths? They’re bad luck.” His stare is unwavering and cold.

“That’s arguable.” You surprisingly fire back.

Toji Fushiguro shrugs. He slides his hands into his jogger pant’s pockets.

“If that’s all you wanted to discuss, then I need to ask you to please leave. I have work to do.” You answer sharp and composed.

He simply shrugs again and pushes himself off the table he leans against.

Without another word Toji Fushiguro simply heads to the door. Before he leaves the man stops.

“That bad luck I told you about? S’gonna catch up to you soon, pretty. Just want to give you a warning.”

It sounds like a threat instead of a warning.

At his words a venomous bile pools in your mouth and you almost want to snarl at this man. He leaves with just a casual wave of his hand and not another word.

The rest of the time in the lab you can’t focus on anything. You simply float in this strange inertia.

When you leave, no moth flutters outside to greet you.

A new wave of terror wiggles through your stomach.

Your apartment is also deadly silent. Worry prickles all over your body as you slide open the balcony door. You even peer out into the woods hoping to find six gleaming eyes staring out.

Yet only the darkness, eternal and empty, stares back an ancient unforgiving warning.

So try pushing aside this rattling worried energy. You try to make dinner, even put on a favorite movie for background noise.

Your mind however can’t leave the thought of Toji Fushiguro. Mainly, you worry about the absence of your moth. Fear eats away at you as if an actual creature has crawled inside.

And maybe he has.

You miss him. You miss Satoru. You’re worried about him.

He’s become a staple in your life, a strange fixture pestering you. You can’t imagine a day without his presence now.

Then a realization trickles in a slow and sticky truth.

He is a creature of the woods, a myth of the darkness. Maybe he never meant to be yours.

Now here you are. A selfish human simply trying to keep him all to yourself.

A sudden clash of something solid rams into the balcony rail. You can’t help but shriek.

Thee moth creature rapidly shoves his way into your living room. He crawls inside feral like something out of a horror movie.

“Satoru!” You cry out his name and rush towards him.

Satoru’s piercing sky eyes, all six of them, are wide and frantic. His gaze darts around the room. Then he begins sniffing around the space.

“Someone’s been in here.” Satoru’s voice drops, a waterlogged frantic gurgle.

“Wait what?” You ask terrified. “How do you know?

You start glancing around the room now and follow Satoru as he continues rapidly smelling the space. There are no signs of someone breaking in and entering. Nothing even seems out of place or stolen.

“I smell something new. It’s not either one of our scents.” Satoru’s voice drips with a sharp dread and it chokes you.

“What does that mean?” You croak trying not to get caught up in the terror and panic, but their current is so strong.

Suddenly Satoru whips around.

There in the hallway of your apartment he completely consumes the entire space with his imposing frame. The darkness of the hallway and dim lighting casts a grim shadow over him. His wide frantic eyes are animalistic, more than you’ve ever seen.

His shoulders heave with rapid breaths. In a blink Satoru suddenly crams his body against yours.

This giant of a monster curls down to crouch into you. His face begins rubbing against yours. Soft growl like purring rumbles into the air.

You can’t help but whimper his name as fear has you in its maw.

What’s going to happen? What could you do?

You try to voice these questions, these worries, but the words get tangled in your throat.

“Nothing will harm you.” Satoru snaps deadly as the edge of his tone wavers into a frayed growl.

Those strange humming clips and chirps he makes float into the air while he continues comforting you.

Clawed hands curl into your back with a noticeable pressure. There’s a hint of danger in his tight grasp. But then you realize you’re also clutching onto him with an iron hold.

Frustratedly you try blinking away tears managing to stubbornly spill down your cheeks.

Satoru, who still rubs his monstrous face against yours, immediately notices your tears.

A distressing chattering noise comes and you’re readying to reassure him you’re fine.

His tongue instead moves to lick at your tears.

The action stills you immediately. The slick appendage rapidly slithers across your face trying to quickly wipe away your tears.

You think about when he healed your hand, when his tongue wiggled across your skin to lap at your blood. Now here he is again, consuming you, trying to heal and comfort you.

His tongue however slides down across your cheeks tasting the salt of your skin. It immediately sparks to life an intoxicating heat that drowns out the panic.

A part of you wonders about the danger swirling around him and how there might be a possibility that doom is seeping into you.

This might be your doom, to adore a creature composed of myth and nightmare.

You blink and a few lingering tears rapidly run down your cheek straight to the corner of your lip.

Satoru, fast as ever, moves to lick them up. In the process his tongue slithers close to your lips, running across the edge of them.

You inhale sharply and your eyes can’t help but snap open wide. You’re breathing heavily. The way Satoru’s large shoulders begin heaving, so is he.

Suddenly he breathes out your name and it gets tangled in your heart.

“Mine.” Then his voice, animalistic and monstrous, cracks the air with a low possessive growl.

His tongue begins running across your lips without hesitation. The wet wiggling intense sensation has your eyes closing in absolute bliss. You sigh and want to open your mouth to let his tongue slip inside.

“You’re mine.” He snarls out feral and wild. Those strange clicks of his come faster and soon enough his claws draw you closer.

Suddenly Satoru inhales deeply against your skin.

Then he groans a terrible wonderful noise that makes your knees buckle.

“Oh you smell so good.” He slurs. He continues to smell every inch of your skin, trying to map and memorize your scent.

A whimper escapes you and Satoru rumbles out a comforting click.

He begins dragging his down your body with a focused intent.

“Stronger, it’s getting stronger.” He mutters against your clothes.

“Satoru-” you say his name a bit worried.

The moth creature shoves his face unabashedly against your clothed sex. He groans loud, almost debauched and all thoughts float out of you. His antennas rapidly twitch.

“Oh it’s here.” Satoru mumbles in awe, possessed, as if he’s found a deity. “You smell so good here.”

He growls frustrated as he tries burrowing his face closer and closer to your dripping arousal.

You croak out his name waterlogged.

Satoru snaps to look up at you from his knees. All six eyes are glossy and frantic.

“Please? Please, my little human, can I have more?” He begs.

That’s when you notice his mouth is wet drenched with saliva. He’s drooling at just the thought of you, drunk on your smell.

All you can do is nod, caught in the same intoxication desire.

Effortlessly he claws apart your pants at the seam and dives in. You can’t even chide him for that.

Your mind goes blank, consumed by pleasure and lost in its woods. As you cry out while his thin tongue runs up and down every inch of you, you realize Satoru is right.

You are his. And maybe he is yours.

Satoru arrived in your life and never left. He instead stayed in the safety of your light with you under the cover of his wings.

-.⊹˚₊⋆˙↟☾↟˙⋆₊˚⊹.-

“Don’t go to class today.” The moth mumbles.

Satoru has been glued to your side since the discovery of your intruder last week. He barely leaves the apartment and when he does it’s only because you need to leave. Currently he sits on the bedroom floor with wide sleep deprived eyes.

The antennas on top of his head flicker quickly. He’s tried been pushing himself to stand guard even during the day.

“I’ll be fine, it’s just a lecture.” You reassure him.

“Besides, you should take this time to sleep. You need to rest.”

“I’ll be fine.” He mirrors your words back to you.

Your monster’s six eyes hold a daze focused like he’s trying to be aware of everything all at once. Slowly and delicately you let your hand run against his soft face.

The delicate fur, now a tangible dream under your fingertips, is so sulky. The touch jolts the creature into awareness.

Satoru’s eyes all flutter you and instantly his face melts against your hand.

“Don’t go.” He whispers a static like mumble.

“I’ll be okay.” You even lean down to kiss the side of his face.

“Fine, then I’m going.” He snaps a firm unwavering decision and you can’t argue with him.

As you walk to the lecture hall building he flutters so swiftly and dizzying in his normal moth form. He even flies all around your face, another angry urging for you to not go.

You gently hold out your hand. Slowly the moth flutters to land on top of your hand.

He is gorgeous in every form including this one. Shimmering wide eyes, large intricate wings, all composed in this sweet creature furiously crawling over your hand.

“I know you’re still upset, but I’ll be fine.” You softly reassure him for the hundreth time.

He stops and stares at you. Gently you run a finger across his fuzzy little head careful to not touch his antennas.

He flies from your hand and lands immediately on the corner of your lips.

A goodbye kiss.

Your lips twitch amused and deeply fond.

“I’ll see you when class is over.” With that you head to class.

Walking into the classroom, one of your peers excitedly speaks to everyone present in the room.

“Did you guys hear?! Someone just saw the mothman thing on campus a few minutes ago?!”

Terror unfolds in you and your heart collapses among its cage. He must have transformed in the woods, or in flight.

“Really? Are you sure?” A skeptic quickly emerges and you cling to their words.

“No I swear! Everyone’s been talking about it online! So many people saw it fly into the trees by the woods!”

You haven’t been this terrified since the contained moth was missing or since you first saw six reflective eyes staring at you from the dark.

Chatter breaks out immediately with so many discussions. Some of your classmates show their disbelief while others eagerly ask for more information.

You try to keep your composure as you slide into your seat.

“Hey,” someone says your name. Your friend that sits next to you stares at you with a scrunched up face of concern.

“You okay? You look kinda sick.” She frowns.

You wearily smile and use the excuse that you have been under the weather. A cold chill even runs up your spine.

“Then head back home,” she comforts you with understanding eyes. “I’ll send you the notes from today and let you know if you miss anything.”

Grateful you wearily thank her and she nods warm, reassuring, wishing you rest. As you turn to head out you catch the last bit of conversation bubbling along with your classmates.

“Well…if someone saw the moth thing, doesn’t that mean something bad is gonna happen soon?”

“Yeah that’s what the legend says.” Someone grimly agrees.

Scrambling, you shove yourself out of the classroom before you hear anything else.

Now out of the room you shakily exhale trying to calm yourself down.

At this time in the evening the hallways are deathly silent, harrowingly so. Unlike the lab building, so open and light with its many windows and expanded hallways, the lecture hall building’s tight corridors create a haunting clustered stillness.

That stillness seems to be creeping in more and more.

As you walk towards the elevator, sudden footsteps begin stomping behind you.

They are solid and firm, staying a decent pace away from you. The anxiousness from these past few days create an unbearable itch that crawls over your skin.

So you turn around.

And the hallway is dead empty.

No one walks behind you.

Fear tastes icy and rotten as it infects your body. Instantly you whip around to rush to the elevator.

You clash straight into someone.

The collision knocks you out of your thoughts and you quickly blink into focus.

A rush of apologizes stammer out of you.

“Hey, it’s okay.” The man you ran into warmly reassures you.

You finally get a good look at him. He’s handsome with a strong jaw and a faint mustache. He looks official in his suit. The smell of cigarettes surround you.

“Actually, I was wondering if you could help point me in the direction of the main office.” The man smiles warmly.

This had to be the source of the footsteps you heard. The dread you have slowly simmers at the sight of him.

“Oh course.” You grin weakly at the man, thankful your fear is calming down. “You have to go down to the other end of this hallway-”

A sudden hand comes up from behind you.

It slaps over your mouth with a painful grip. Then something sharp pierces your neck.

The scream from your throat fades along with your focus.

The last thought flashing through your mind before you fade into darkness is that Satoru was right.

You shouldn’t have gone to class.

-.⊹˚₊⋆˙↟☾↟˙⋆₊˚⊹.-

The jostling of your body wakes you up.

Groggily you blink into focus. You first notice it’s late at night. Next, you’re laid across the back seat of a car and your hands are tied.

In the front seats sit the man you ran into at the school and Toji Fushiguro. You go to scream but a tightly wrapped cloth blocks your mouth.

“You’re awake.” Toji drawls out slowly and surprised.

You screech at him through the material.

“Yeah, I knew you were with the moth this entire time.” He grins at you through the rear window.

You continue to scream as best as you can, sounding feral and panicked as tears fill your eyes.

“Guess living with a monster makes you sound this wild.” Toji Fushiguro’s accomplice mutters without even glancing once at you.

He begins typing away on his phone.

“We got more buyers willing to pay if we bring the moth in alive.” The man comments.

Everything clicks.

They were after Satoru. And you’re the bait.

Maybe Fushiguro’s accomplice is right. Maybe living with a monster has leaked into you because the noise you make doesn’t sound human.

Your scream, still stifled, carries so many emotions. Your pain, terror, anger and frustration, all of it courses through your veins and rips out in waves.

“Hey.” Toji Fushiguro glances back at you from the rear mirror. “Keep it down. I don’t wanna get too aggressive, but I will.”

He casually pulls out a gun and waves it around.

The horrifying casual threat causes your eyes to go wide and now all the fight you had trickles out.

“Watch it!” Suddenly the man in the driver's seat screams out.

Your eyes flicker forward.

Against the darkness, illuminated by the car’s headlights, a looking figure stands in the middle of the road.

Six eyes stare out from the darkness a brilliant terrifying electric blue. Delicate wide moth wings flare out and break against the night.

Through the fabric you scream out his name, except it gets drowned out by the revving of the engine.

Toji speeds up with full intent to hit the creature.

“What are you doing?!” The other man cries out.

You even scream in panic. Your moth however flies up, missing the impact.

He’s gone from sight.

A solid clang lands on the roof.

A sharp stab pierces the top of the car with a snap. The screeching of metal being ripped away follows fast. The eyes of the monster stare into the car with a disastrous terror.

Satoru smiles wild and gleeful at the men, a predator that's captured its prey.

Then…Everything happens in a blink.

The car swerves. The speed makes you feel as if you are flying. The colliding noise of scraping metal and then a solid impact. Everything becomes distorted as if you are in a snow globe spinning and trying to focus on a dizzying fuzzy world.

An unholy monstrous scream rips into the air. It’s all you hear as you fade in and out of consciousness.

You blink and suddenly twigs from the forest floor press against your body. A sharp object pierces your side. Every inch of you screams in pain while also a numbing sensation starts creeping in.

An inhuman roar screeches out and your eyes snap open.

Off to the side along the trees you see the faint edge of Satoru within the darkness. Faintly you hear a wet ripping sound. It’s visceral, like a vulture digging into a macabre carnage.

You watch his clawed hands viscously dig into whatever he stands over. You try gathering your voice trying to say something, anything.

Then six electric eyes snap up to you from the dark forest. He is the terror of the woods, a feral monster interrupted from its hunt.

Your vision however goes blurry and it gets harder staying awake.

A wreck howl of your name breaks into the air.

Tender clawed hands scoop up from the ground. You’re cradled against him gently and tight. The fabric in your mouth gets ripped away and now the metallic taste of blood fills your mouth fast.

You wheeze out Satoru’s name. There’s so much you want to say. But you’re getting so tired.

“Stay awake!” He snarls desperately sensing your exhaustion.

Nothing feels real. Even staring up at your creature, his six eyes seem to become twelve, like clusters of galaxies carved out in the night sky.

But you’re fading. You know and he knows it.

Breathing hurts and now a cool chill runs across your body from the inside.

Your grandfather's words about moths being angels float into your mind.

You recall how terrifying angels are sometimes described. Some of them are composed of wheels of fire, with many wings.

Yours has many eyes.

You’re grateful Satoru is here with you at the end. You’re grateful this angel found you.

Water droplets plop onto your face and you wonder if it’s raining.

Satoru screams your name with absolute anguish. A darkness crawls over your eyes. Soft and peacefully, you fall into its waiting arms.

-.⊹˚₊⋆˙↟☾↟˙⋆₊˚⊹.-

A soft steady beeping pulls you out from the darkness.

Wearily you open your eyes. But the bright light of wherever you are immediately has you shutting your eyes tight.

A cold hand touches your arm.

The touch jolts you awake. In a panic your eyes immediately snap open and your body shoots up only to find yourself tangled.

Tubes run from out of your arms. One tube even rests under your nose. The beeping noise you faintly recognize is a heart monitor and realization hits that you’re in a hospital.

Then when you turn to the side, a man you don’t know sits beside you.

You have never seen a man as gorgeous as him. Striking cloud white hair, a chiseled jawline, broad shoulders and then…

The brightest blue eyes, clear as a summer sky, stare at you so frantic and hesitant.

The man says your name, his tone faintly pleading.

For some reason his voice sounds vaguely familiar. But that thought is put on hold when the door to your room opens and a nurse walks in.

“Oh thank goodness you’re awake!” She sighs genuinely warm to see you and even seems a bit surprised.

What happened? You were dying. You were sure of it.

“Do you remember anything that happened?” The nurse asks gently as she checks your vitals.

“I…” your voice wavers as the memory clips at you, terrifying and heartbreaking.

“It’s okay if you don’t.” The nurse says comfortingly. “It’s common for accident victims to have a foggy memory. Plus after the one you were in it’s understandable.”

Weakly you question about what happened, how you got here.

With soft eyes the nurse explains it all.

You were the only survivor of the car crash. A part of you vividly remembers Toji Fushiguro and the man with him. A part of you dark and hollow gleams grateful they are no longer here.

You however didn’t walk away unscathed. You have a few broken ribs, a very bad concussion and light internal bleeding being monitored.

“We even found damage near your heart that could’ve been deadly-”

Yet, you were alive.

“And….” The nurse’s eyes twinkle warm and adoring as they flicker to the man behind you.

“This man found you and brought you in. Came into the hospital with you in his arms like some kind of bloody guardian angel.”

You whip your attention back to him as well. The man’s blue eyes stay so intently focused on you.

They remind you so much of the pairs of six eyes that watched you with the same unwavering gaze.

Then the nurse’s words click.

An angel.

No. This couldn’t be…

The idea so wild and unbelievable barrels into you fast. It knocks you breathless that you can’t help but cough out.

Everyone instantly scrambles to grab you something to drink. It’s your mystery man who hands you a cold water first and you guzzle it down with a frantic speed.

“I’ll let you get some rest. Please hit the call button if you need anything.” The nurse squeezes your shoulder and you thank her with a weak cough.

Now in the quiet safety of the hospital room, your attention snaps to the man still intently staring at you with glossy blue lake eyes.

You take the jump. It might be the most far stretched idea and you can blame the concussion but -

You whisper out Satoru’s name.

The white haired man nods fast and a sob escapes you.

It’s him.

Through tear soaked questions you ask him how.

“Remember that legend I once told you? About us being able to bring someone back from the dead?”

His voice is now clear, so distinctly him even in this form you can’t miss it now.

His words are a chilling breeze.

“I died.” You whisper the cold realization.

And he brought you back.

“But you…what happened?” Your eyes so clouded with tears scan his very beautiful and human face.

The Satoru before you is so familiar yet so different. The deep inhale he gives moves his shoulders. You’ve seen it before when his wings moved with the same exhausted exhale. Instead now a weary weight, a very human one, colors his stunning features.

But a sudden eased smile tugs at his lips and the sight is stunning.

“We’re allowed to bring someone back…it’s just at a little cost.” His voice flutters out light and his words get trapped in your throat.

You can’t fight the tears. They come in waves and your shoulders shake as you cry.

“Wait,” Satoru rapidly panics as he slides closer to you. “What’s wrong?!”

He gave up everything. His form, his livelihood, his essence as a creature of the myth, he gave it all for you.

That solid truth rips so much sadness and guilt through you all you can do is angrily cry, frustrated.

“Why are you crying?” He asks concerned and a bit confused.

“Because,” you hiccup. “Because I did this to you.”

You would carry this guilt for the rest of your life.

“What? Don’t like the way I look? I thought I was pretty handsome in this form, yeah?” He lightly teases to perk you up.

You give him a look of disbelief wondering if you should call the nurse to escort this headache away from you.

“Okay okay,” he says, thankfully understanding your heartache.

Gently Satoru’s hand moves to rest against you on top of the itchy hospital blanket. Fondly he runs his hand over your leg. You watch as his eyes follow the path of his hand like he’s trying to solidify your presence beside him. A sadness shimmers within his blue pools.

“If anyone’s to blame…it’s me. I did this to you.”

Quickly, through a teary blubbering mess you reassure Satoru he did nothing wrong. His hand softly squeezes your knee.

“Do you remember when we were watching that weird show and you asked me what I’d wish for? What I wanted more than anything?”

Suddenly Satoru speaks firmer, eyes still not facing you.

“I wished I could be with you. I wanted to live a full life by your side.” His answer is low, but so beautifully clear it’s like dawn breaking over the forest.

Those endless blue eyes turn to you.

Gingerly Satoru raises his hand. He runs his fingers against your face with a tender touch, a delicate brush like that of a moth’s wing.

“Never feel guilty about what happened. I would make this decision over and over again. I don’t regret it and never will.” He says firm, absolute and devoted.

Tears return again but this time for another reason, one so beautifully overwhelming it consumes you.

Satoru gently draws you into his arms to hold you steady against his sturdy chest.

“Can't get rid of me now, little human.” He teases but the faintest edge of emotion cracks his voice.

A laugh escapes you among the tears.

“You’re a little human now too, bug boy.” You joke as the new nickname comes so easily to you.

“There’s nothing little about me, especially in this form.” He deeply purrs.

You’re about to snap at him for being crude until he shrieks.

“And bug boy?! You never even called me that before! If anyone is the bug freak it’s you!”

You laugh, truly laugh, and a warm buoyancy floats within your entire body. He joins in alongside you. His laugh is such a wild and free noise you want to keep it forever.

“This being a human thing,” he suddenly mutters against the top of your head. “Might take me a little while to get used to it.”

“It’s okay,” you whisper back, fully resting against him. “We’re all still trying to figure it out too.”

Satoru’s hand begins rubbing against your back effortlessly, so human and natural.

“You already seem to be doing a good job.” You mumble feeling sleepy again.

He hums amused. “I know. I’m just that good.”

You want to make a snide remark but then Satoru kisses the top of your head. Your heart jumps at feeling his lips.

“I get to do this all the time now.” He whispers slightly in awe, like he spoke a hidden thought out loud.

You can’t help but grin giddy.

Before, you had begun experimenting very enthusiastically about getting to learn how to kiss him in his old form. But you understand.

This felt right. It always did, even when you never wanted to admit it before.

“No more mothman.” Satoru mutters a quiet realization and you clutch his shirt.

“You’ll always be my pest.” You reassure him.

“Hey.” You can hear the mock frown in his voice and you snicker.

You think about Satoru as your cryptid emerging straight from legends.

If he was seen as a harbinger and warning of danger, it strangely has you thinking about love.

For what is love if not a warning? A ‘be careful, don’t run too fast, please be safe, please let me protect you’ warning morphed into a wish and want to keep someone safe. Horror and love sometimes walk hand in hand together after all.

In the arms of your harbinger, you wearily start falling asleep. Satoru senses it too and places another kiss on your head.

When he gently moves to rest you back on the bed your eyes glance to the window. The dark evening night stretches out deep and wide

Against the glass, you notice a fluttering movement.

Soft green delicate long wings catch the light from the hospital room.

Actias luna.

More tears brim in your eyes.

The beautiful lunar moth dances against the window, against the darkness, as if to greet you a warm hello and wish you well.

Title: Domesticated.

Commissioned by the very lovely, very inspired @elsecrytt.

Pairing: Yandere!Satan x Reader (Obey Me).

Word Count: 7.0k.

TW: Dub/Con & Non/Con, AFAB!Reader, Reader Is Straight Up A Bad Person In This One, Toxic Relationships, Semi-Public Sex, Bondage, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Coercion, Prolonged Grooming, Mentions of Blood and Violence, Slight Stalking, and Obsessive Behavior. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

You were the first one to find Satan.

It wasn’t difficult. You’d been around long enough at that point to know that the birth of a demon was a strange, spontaneous thing; loud and wild, often accompanied by pillars of flame and always violent enough to leave the earth scarred in its wake. While his brothers fell from paradise like stars displaced from their heavens, you followed the cloud of smoke rising from the wasteland that made up the Devildom’s outskirts, tracked the scent of cedar and ivy and sulfur until you found him, seething in a crater of his own creation, freshly charred feathers still littered around him as he lashed out blindly, his aggression without a target but no less volatile for its aimlessness. He was bare save for the ash smeared across his pale skin, and you could make out a lashing tail behind him, a pair of curling horns sprouting from his waist-length hair, a pair of cat-like pawed feet he’d grow out of in a few weeks – all the same shade of black as the obsidian that surrounded him and tipped with a green you could only compare to the color of toxic waste, to the kind of emerald shine an insect might wear to let you know it was venomous. Every part of him practically glowed with rage. If you’d been aware of which throne he would take after he and his brothers found their footing in their new realm in that moment, you would’ve thought it was fitting.

In short, he was beautiful. Awe-inspiringly, breath-takingly beautiful.

And you were never the kind of person who could resist beautiful things.

Carefully, with dampened footsteps and a preference for the shadows, you edged closer to him, never letting Satan leave your peripheral. You were still a hundred or so feet away when he snapped toward you, pointed teeth already bared and curved talons poised to attack. You couldn’t be sure how lucid he was, but whatever happened to be running through that empty mind of his, it wasn’t enough to stop him from snarling at you, from hunching his back and digging his claws into the ground and charging, intent on tearing anything he saw apart before his anger could cool. Elation overwhelmed you. You felt the corners of your lips curl upward as he lunged, your heart practically beating through your chest as his lithe body streaked through the flame-tinged moonlight, as you took in the rabid creature that would be your end. There were sixty feet between you, then forty, and then—

And then, something dark and terrible descended from the clouded sky, tackling Satan and pinning him to the ground. Lucifer, you discovered, once the dust cleared and you could make out his face, his wings (lesser by two and painted the color of impurity, you noted with a not inconsiderable sense of satisfaction). You didn’t wait for him to notice you. Slipping back into the shadows of the wasteland, you stole one more glance toward Satan only to find his attention still fixed on you, unwavering despite his new guardian. Your eyes met his, and without hesitation, you spared him a smile. Of course, he didn’t return the gesture, but you didn’t mind.

You slipped into the night, already dreaming of the day you’d see him again.

~

By the second time you got so close to Satan, he’d already gained a reputation of his own.

You couldn’t say you weren’t proud. His anger cooled in the months after his conception, and he found a place among his brothers who, in turn, established themselves in the Devildom’s admittedly lax hierarchy of power and pleasure and all the many things that thrived when given reprieve from the harsh light of the sun. You kept your distance. As greedy as you were, you knew better than to get involved with people who knew better than to get involved with you.

Instead, you watched from the crowd as Satan grew into his rank, as the more untamed parts of his demonic nature fell away and he came to resemble something… cleaner, something less animalistic. You didn’t care for the change, but still, you kept track of him. What could you say? Even polished, he was still a gem worth keeping an eye on.

Your dutifulness was rewarded, too. Or, that was what you told yourself, at least, as you picked the lock on the door of the lecture hall where he’d thrown his latest fit, where it’d taken Mammon and Beelzebub’s joint strength to restrain him. You let your fingertips graze past overturned tables and side-stepped the shattered remains of shattered chalkboards and wooden chairs, taking in the proof of his untamed rage as you approached him. He’d been restrained, left to fester in his wrath until he was calm enough to deal with properly. Silver chains adorned with hundreds upon thousands of archaic runes kept him bound to a marble pillar near the center of the classroom, his arms trapped against his side and his more demonic features still on full display, much to your delight.

Despite having been on his own for a few hours, now, his rage had yet to die down. His fangs were still bared, his claws still biting into his own palms, his thorned tail still lashing back and forth behind his back like that of some starving wildcat, agitated that its quarry had been taken away. He only had a fraction of the wild radiance you’d been so captivated by during your first encounter, but still, you found yourself grinning. Even diluted, he was still beautiful.

This time, you didn’t have to mind your distance. You came to a stop less than a full arm’s length in front of him, ducking slightly when the point of his tail made a jab at your throat. “It’s alright, princess,” you started, keeping your voice low, your tone light. Like you were trying to soothe a wild animal – which, to be fair, wasn’t exactly not what you were doing. “I’m not here to hurt you. I just wanted to see that pretty face again.”

He really was so unlike he had been, the first time you’d met. There was a flicker of recognition in those burning eyes, a slight change to his posture. He pressed his back against the pillar, squaring his shoulders as his rabid snarl dulled into a thin scowl. His tail continued to thrash and writhe, but he didn’t try to go for your throat again. “I don’t need your help.”

“I wasn’t going to make an offer.” His eyes narrowed, and you held his piercing gaze for a second, then another, before allowing your attention to drift lower. Surprisingly, his uniform hadn’t been damaged during his rampage, only displaced; his shirt missing a few buttons where he’d torn at the collar, the jacket he always let hang open pushed so far back, it now threatened to fall from his shoulders altogether. What you were looking for lied lower, though – in the unnatural creases and unusual tautness of his pants. It was a common (albeit, no less embarrassing) side-effect of supernatural creatures giving into their true nature, especially for younger demons who never learned how to control their more primal instincts. He probably knew that, but you doubted he knew how to take care of it, just yet. Especially with his older brothers still learning how to handle their own sinful impulses. “I mean, I would be willing to give you a hand, if you need one,” you went on, nodding to his painfully hard cock. “But, if you’d rather seethe and growl in an empty classroom until one of your brothers comes back for you…”

You held up your hands, moving to turn on your heel and leave him alone with his anger, but Satan’s eyes widened, straining against his bondage as he lurched forward, practically drooling at the first hint of fresh blood. “You… you can do something about that?”

The muted excitement in his voice gave away his eagerness, his desperation. You let out a breath of a laugh, taking half a step closer, testing the boundaries before trying to catch such an active spark in your hands. When he didn’t immediately lunge at you, you brought a hand up, cupping his cheek and running your thumb over his jaw. “Of course,” you said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. As if he was the foolish one for being stupid enough to doubt you. “But only if you ask me to. I’m not going out of my way to help someone who’s going to tear my throat out as soon as I’m done.”

And, even then, you could’ve been persuaded to lay back and let him have his way with you if he begged prettily enough. Luckily, he was already distracted, already leaning into your touch and staring up at you with a new kind of reverence. He couldn’t have known he was doing it – his pride wouldn’t have allowed him to. As far as you could tell, this was all instinct. “Do it.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “You’ll have to do better than that, princess.”

He was quiet for a moment, then another. “Please,” he spat, finally, as if the word burnt his tongue. “Please, help me get rid of it.”

“No one’s going to want to do anything with you if you use that tone.” And yet, you stepped forward, resting one hand on his shoulder while the other dropped to the tent in his pants, to his cock. You ground your palm against his shaft through the thick material, and Satan grit his teeth. He didn’t know much, but he knew enough not to debase himself so willingly in front of you. “You’re lucky I’m such a bleeding heart. Otherwise, I would’ve left you here to suffer minutes ago.”

You watched him try to fight it, clenching his eyes shut as he braced himself, putting more effort into limiting his reactions now than he’d ever spared for his temper tantrums. With deft hands and saliva already pooling below your tongue, you shifted his pants down just far enough to free his cock – hard enough to press into his stomach. Like everything else about him, it was beautiful – pale but not ghastly, visibly veined but not overly defined, the head tinted a deep shade of pink you didn’t know you’d held such a fondness for, before you saw it on him. It was already leaking, too – pearls of precum dripping down his length and smearing against your skin as you wrapped your fist around the shaft and pumped lazily, playing indifferent to the way he bucked and writhed underneath you. “This,” you started, slowly, “is called a handjob. You can do it yourself, too, but it’s not as good. You’ll probably just end up making it worse.”

You swiped your thumb over his leaking tip, and he gasped, pressing himself flush against the marble pillar. You heard his restraints rattle and tightened your grip just enough to distract him, to give him something better to think about than getting away. “Pay attention, ‘cause you’re going to have to return the favor. That’s how this kind of thing works – I help you, then you help me.”

He nodded, sucking in a shaky breath. He wasn’t the brightest thing you’d ever come across, but he still might’ve proven himself to be a dutiful-enough student. “A h-handjob.”

“Good boy.” You teased the head of his cock by way of reward, then ground the heel of your palm into his base as a punishment for making you wait. When you were sure the lesson had sunk in, you took to jerking him off in earnest, taking on a pace just on the brink of satisfying and drinking in the little, stuttering moans that dripped past his lips in response. When his legs started to buckle, you worked a knee between his thighs and slotted your chest against his, staring up at him with as much adoration as someone like you could lend to something like him. You felt his cock twitch in your hand, heard his breathing turn raspy and shallow, and without warning, you pulled away, removing yourself from him completely.

He let out a desperate whine, the embodiment of pitiful. With an airy chuckle, you lowered yourself onto your knees, letting your hands fall to his waist. “This one’s a blowjob,” you muttered, just barely loud enough to be audible. He might’ve been a mediocre student, but you were an excellent teacher – always striving to fill curious minds with as much applicable knowledge as you could. “Some people call it oral sex, too. You’ll like it even more.”

His voice was so weak, so prone to cracking and breaking that in another world, it could’ve been cute. “…sex?”

“We’ll get to that later.” You pressed a fleeting kiss into his hip. “Just pay attention to me, for now.”

He really was lucky to have you. Anyone else might not have been able to handle how roughly he thrust into your mouth as soon as you’d taken the leaking head onto your tongue, might not have been willing to put up with his insatiable desire to bury himself in your throat – unaware or uncaring of your desire to breathe. You were patient, though, and strict, eager to swallow him down as deeply as you were able to before pulling back, pinning his hips down, and running the flat of your tongue up the sensitive underside of his cock. Whatever well of self-control he’d been using to bite back his pathetic little noises had clearly run dry. He moaned unabashedly, throwing his head forward and shuddering. His tail lashed out, his body determined to protect itself where his mind was unable to, but you didn’t pull away as it curled around your arm, didn’t waver as its curved thorns shredded your sleeve and sunk into your skin. Rather, you groaned around him, savoring the pure heat dripping down your arm, the way his agony seemed to drive itself under your flesh and make a home there. It was an overdue paradise, one that paled in comparison to what you could’ve had if Lucifer hadn’t interrupted you on that first night. You tried to treasure it all the same.

You fell into a steady rhythm quickly, no longer in the mood to tease him. You kept your eyes open as you bobbed your head, fixed to his flushed cheeks, his pained expression, the way he couldn’t seem to decide whether he wanted to shrink into himself or struggle against his restraints. “Stop, I—” He cut himself off with another moan, a quick jerk of his head to the side. As if there was anything he could do to hide from you, in a state like this. “There’s something wrong with—”

“You’re going to cum,” you corrected, pulling off of him just far enough to speak. With your lips still pressed against the head of his cock, you added, “That means you want me to keep going.”

If he had any mind to protest, he wasn’t able to put his complaints into words. Instead, all he managed to spit out was a fractured sob as you felt him throb against your tongue, as he came undone in your mouth. You milked him for all you had, pumping a fist over his shaft as he clumsily fucked your throat, his inexperience shining through once his inhibitions had been thoroughly pushed to the wayside. When you were sure you’d gotten everything out of him that you could, when your senses had been overwhelmed by the heady taste of him and the proof of your labor sat heavy in the pit of your stomach, you drew back, pushing yourself to your feet and taking in what you’d done to him. He was a mess, his face red and damp with sweat, emerald scales visible just underneath the collar of his shirt. With a slight smile, you fished something out of your pocket – a small, silver cage that you’d liberated from a succubus’ locker about an hour prior, when you heard Satan had lost his temper yet again. It fit the base of his cock as if it’d been made for him – pressing flush against his skin as it snapped into place with a satisfying click. When you were done, you pushed a kiss into the corner of his lips before stepping back.

 “When that starts to get uncomfortable,” you started, grinning. “Come and find me.”

You didn’t give him a chance to protest before slipping away, leaving him panting and half-dressed for someone more tender-hearted to take care of.

~

He made it three weeks before seeking you out. An impressive lapse, considering he’d been hard again by the time you left that classroom.

This time, you made an effort to keep your distance. No more trailing behind him as he walked with his brothers or standing on the outskirts of the crowd as he picked a fight with yet another low-ranking demon – no, what he needed from you now was separation, the time it would take for him to think to look for you in his peripheral and then, later on, to convince himself the pleasure you could give him was worth the blow it’d deal to his ego. You’d started to lose hope by the time bridged the gap at one of Lord Diavolo’s frequent balls, thrown to celebrate Satan and his brothers ascending to the rank of Avatar. No one could seem to remember there ever being a rank by that name before their arrival, but legislation was for the Celestial Realm. Citizens of the Devildom were always more than happy to sample their prince’s generosity, regardless of the occasion.

You’d just finished slipping a stunning silver ring off of a witch’s finger and onto your own when he found you, red-faced and visibly out of breath, as if he’d just run from one side of the castle to the other. You grinned, moving to speak, but he clearly didn’t have an interest in whatever you might’ve said; taking hold of your arm and dragging you out of the main ballroom by way of greeting. You made no effort to resist. Struggling was for people who wanted to run, people who’d lost control and needed to be somewhere else. You, on the other hand, couldn’t imagine being anywhere but here.

You let haul you down a dimly lit hallway and through a simple wooden door – almost meager, by the prince’s standards. It was a storage closet, as far as you could tell, the shelves stocked with miscellaneous supplies and the light limited to what little could flood through the gaps between the doorframe after Satan slammed it behind him. You didn’t mind it, but you would’ve preferred something a little brighter. You would’ve preferred to have him on a podium, underneath a spotlight, where you could see every last inch of his perfect body. You would’ve preferred to have him on a stage, posed to your preference for the approval of an eager audience. You’d always been charitable, like that.

But, you couldn’t linger on how you would’ve liked him when you already had him right in front of you. As soon as he’d ensured you were alone, he was scrambling to find your hand in the darkness, to press your palm into the outline of his throbbing cock and whine ­– a sound it’d taken him minutes to make, the first time you were alone together. “I can’t take it off, and—and it hurts.” His speech was frantic, disjointed, prone to slipping and tripping over itself between coherent words. You couldn’t imagine how he’d spent the past few weeks. Even his brothers would’ve noticed something was wrong, if he was always this worked up. “The cage burns when I touch it, and it won’t stop leaking—”

“Ah, ah, that’s enough.” The saint that you were, you chose to put him out of his misery sooner rather than later. “Why don’t you show me the problem?”

At that, he froze up, his neediness momentarily overwhelmed by pure, unadulterated shame. His fangs caught on his bottom lip as he looked away from you and towards himself, his hands shaking ever-so-slightly as he brought them to the button of his adorably uncharacteristic dress pants. His brothers must’ve picked out his clothes – partially, at least. You didn’t know whether to be amused or endeared by the fact that he wasn’t quite ready to make decisions for himself, just yet.

Under your instruction, he stripped quickly, the pieces of his suit falling away until he was left exposed in front of you, dressed only in your last gift to him. Speaking of – his cage was… stranger than you’d remembered it bring, the silver bars pulsing with a dull violet glow. A lasting enchantment, you figured. You should’ve expected as much from something you’d snagged from a succubus, those freaks.

You ran a finger over the curved spine, taking a long moment to appreciate the craftsmanship before you turned your attention back to the source of Satan’s suffering: his cock, already hard and, like he’d said, already leaking. You probably should’ve been more selective when it came to how you restrained him. The flesh of his shaft strained painfully against the bars of his cage, the tip already drooling enough pre-cum to smear on your palm and pool on the floor in between his legs. The poor thing looked nearly suffocated – pale and ever so slightly discolored, sensitive enough to twitch and send a rough shudder up the length of Satan’s spine as you ran your thumb over what little of the underside remained exposed. He only had himself to blame, really. If he’d only swallowed his pride and come to you earlier, he wouldn’t need your help so badly now.

He wouldn’t need to prove that he deserved your help, after ignoring you for so many weeks.

“Poor baby,” you half-cooed, taking his face in your hands and pressing a lingering kiss into his forehead. “I should’ve known you wouldn’t be able to take something so difficult so soon. I’m sorry for making you suffer, like this.”

Immediately, you felt him stiffen. You could only hope it was a habit he’d never grow out of. You couldn’t imagine a version of Satan who was driven by anything other than the ongoing, everlasting need to prove himself and, when that failed, tear down everything that could claim he hadn’t. “I’m fine,” he said, as if he hadn’t been on the verge of tears only a second ago. “I could take this and more, if I needed to. It’s just— you said I would need to find you, eventually, and I wanted to get it over with before—”

“That’s enough.” You were sure he would’ve gone on for the next century if you let him, but you weren’t really interested in what he had to say. Not while he was so put-together, at least. “Do you want my help or not?”

He might’ve been a bad liar, but to his credit, he wasn’t delusional. Shakily, he nodded, keeping his lips pursed and his eyes pleading.

“Is that all you’re going to give me to work with?”

“…please.” He was more hesitant than he’d been the first time, but not quite so acidic, not quite so aggressive. He was begging, now, and you could never seem to turn away those in-need. “I’ll do anything.”

You sighed, the gesture airy and drawn-out. Eventually, when it seemed like his already-tenuous patience was starting to thin, you let your touch fall away from him altogether. “Why don’t you get on your knees?”

His expression fell – not so much disappointed as he was confused. “How will that—”

“I have other things to do tonight.” An expectant smile, a nod towards the floor. “I can’t help me if you don’t help me too, Satan.”

The weight of his given name seemed to do the trick. Slowly, his movements stilted and reluctant, he lowered himself onto his knees, his eyes quickly falling away from yours and find a home in his lap. You were glad you’d chosen to wear what you had – making quick work of the sashing binding your robes together and discarding your panties while Satan watched out of the corner of his eye, too embarrassed to stare but too curious not to look. You were tempted to take him by the hair, to find something to wrap around his neck and pull it tighter and tighter until he was exactly where you wanted him to be, but you couldn’t let yourself be so selfish. You couldn’t let yourself forget to take care of him – even if you could justify putting it off until he’d taken care of you.

With little warning, you brought up a foot and ground the toe of your heeled shoe into the shaft of his caged cock. He hissed, throwing his head forward and shrinking into himself, shrinking against you; his chest pressing into your thigh as he bucked mindlessly against your foot, the lewd act coming to him more naturally than you ever could’ve dreamed. Now, you raked your fingers through his hair, jerking him upward and guiding his mouth to your cunt. His eyes widened, a surprised grunt slipping out of some vulnerable pocket of his chest, but you held him in place. “Remember what I showed you last time?”

He hesitated, but not for very long. There was a slight lapse, a pause as he tried to bridge the gap between your anatomy and his, but after a moment of scraping your dull nails over his scalp, of grinning down at him with as much love and patience as you could muster, he let his eyes fall shut and opened his mouth, his tongue darting part his lips and lapping tentatively over your slit. His next swipe was a touch more confident, and the same went for the one after that, and the one after that. A slight groan bubbled up from the base of his throat, his hands coming to rest on your thighs – his curved talons biting shallowly into your skin. You embraced the spark of pain without complaint. As if you had the heart to interrupt such a valuable learning moment.

It was slow work – as sloppy as it was messy, his enthusiasm barely managing to overshadow his inexperience. You couldn’t tell how much of it was on purpose, if he meant to grind the bridge of his nose against your clit, if there was any rhyme or rhythm to how he drew his tongue over your entrance, but it was savage enough, animalistic enough to draw a shallow moan from your lips, to earn the flattened edge of your heel ground against his cock. It took ages for his tongue to slip into you, the tapered point curling and probing against the walls of your cunt. He was lucky to have been born such a rabid creature, to have been gifted such a pretty face. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be worth a minute of your time.

It was a good effort, but it wasn’t enough. With a sharp jerk to his hair, you pulled him away from you and threw him to the ground, his pointed talons leaving a row of raised skin in their wake. With a startled expression and a fog over his eyes, he blinked up at you, barely bothering to try and push himself up before you brought your heel down on his chest and pushed him flush against the floor. “Stay down.” You flashed him a smile, trying to pretend you meant for it to be comforting. “Don’t you trust me?”

He didn’t answer. You didn’t wait for him to, shedding your robes completely and straddling his waist. His prep work had been… minimalistic, to put it kindly, but you’d never been one to back down from a challenge. You met his eyes, holding his half-lidded gaze as you wrapped your hand around his cock and pulled his cage away as easily as if it’d never been there at all.

You took slow, agonizing seconds to line him up with your entrance, rolling your hips to spread his precum over your slit. He let out a slight whimper, then managed to find his voice. “What… what are doing?”

“I think I’ve already told you about this one,” you said, your smile now genuine. “We’re going to make love, princess.”

In your own defense, you gave him a chance to protest, to complain, to throw you off of him and rejoin his brothers in the prince’s ballroom. You waited a second, then another, and when he failed to do anything more than stare up at you with that pleading expression, you lowered yourself onto him, only stopping when you were sure he’d bottomed out.

You were able to bite back your voice, but Satan wasn’t so skilled when it came to hiding his reactions. His body went stiff underneath yours, his eyes falling shut as a sinful moan trickled past his lips. You heard his breath hitch, felt his cock twitch, and then he was coming undone inside of you, likely marking the first time he’d cum inside of anyone, because of anything but your mouth. You couldn’t help but laugh, drinking in his fractured whines as you started moving, rolling your hips and grinding against him, riding him properly – not that he’d know the difference. “S-stop,” he managed, though little pained noises and blissful gasps. “It— It hurts—”

Overstimulation, clearly. It was amazing, how sensitive a demon so ferocious could be. “You’ll like it once you calm down. Just try to tough it out for me, alright?” With one hand on his chest, you let the other slip between your legs and to your clit, sorely neglected by his earlier guesswork. “I’ve made you cum… how many times now? Twice? I think I get to take a little something for myself.”

If he was capable of responding, he didn’t seem to think it was worth the effort. Instead, he only collapsed underneath you, his talons scraping against the stone floor and his point fangs biting at his own lips while you used his cock as your own, personal toy; as something to be played with but otherwise left on the outskirts of your consideration. While he might’ve been willing to fuck anything you put in front of him, you held yourself to higher standards, seeking out whatever made heat pool in your core and that aching knot in the pit of your stomach draw itself that much tighter with a refined sense of determination. You’d known how pretty he was, but there was a different kind of beauty to the way he looked writhing below you, to the pitiful sounds he made every time you clenched around him or moved in a way that threatened to milk his cock – still hard, despite his whining, still needy – dry. It was clumsy, little more than reflex winning over dower rationality, but he tried to move his hips in time with yours, to seek out the heat of your cunt whenever you threatened to pull away and abandon him completely. Not that you were going to. As pathetic as his sensitivity was, you weren’t much better – the anticipation you’d built up in his absence more than enough to make up for his inexperience. Your climax rolled over you in thick, lethargic waves, dimming the edges of your vision and pulling a raspy, vaguely humored gasp from somewhere deep in your chest. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. You’d make him keep going until he gave you something better, next time.

Tonight, though, you had better things to do than babysit. With a shallow inhale and a moment taken to compose yourself, you pulled away from him and pushed yourself to your feet. Satan let out a displeased growl, loud enough and deep enough to rattle off the walls of the storage closet, but you shut him up quickly, pressing the sole of your boot into his shaft and rocking with just enough force to leave him spilling ropes of thick, ivory cum on his stomach, the evidence of his depravity left splattered against the pale skin of his midriff and the dark leather of your shoes. He moved to grab your ankle, to keep you that much closer to him for that much longer, but you pulled back, straightening yourself and shrugging your robes back on while Satan watched you, his eyes glassy and his fangs bared. “Maybe, next time, you’ll be able to take the lead,” you wondered aloud, then laughed. “Wouldn’t count on it, though. I think you’re cuter when you don’t have to think for yourself.”

You could still feel his eyes burning into you as you slipped back into the castle.

~

He started asking you to meet him in the House of Lamentation, after that. You told him you didn’t have a problem with empty classrooms and storage closets, but he insisted. You weren’t surprised. Just as he was learning that he would have to be well-behaved for you, you were starting to realize that you’d have to be gentler than anticipated with him.

That’s what you were doing now – being gentle. The collar wrapped around his neck was loose and lightweight, the leash that connected his throat to your hand allowed to fall lax for the moment, at least until the next time he did something that you would need to. You’d even let him take charge, laying back while he buried his face between your thighs, a skill he was eager to hone after you admitted his natural talent left more than a little to be desired. He was making progress, too. He’d learned to bite back his pride while he lapped over your cunt and pushed aimless patterns into your clit, spurred on by every twitch and moan he could draw out of you. There was a pillow between his legs, something soft and pliable he could grind against while he took care of you, but the thin golden ring sitting at the base of his cock made sure he wouldn’t have his fun before you had yours. This one wasn’t enchanted (you’d been tempted, but magic could be fickle and you didn’t want to bring an arcane locksmith into your time with him), but it worked well enough, and he’d never really gotten the hang of taking care of himself. To be fair, that was something he didn’t have to learn. He had you to dote on him, and you weren’t going anywhere. Not for a few hours, at least.

His hand curled around your hips, spreading you open further as the tapered end of his tongue lavished your clit, his drool mixing with your slick and staining the inside of your thighs. You let your eyes fall shut, using your legs to pull him closer as you bucked into his mouth and used his tongue to nurse yourself through your climax, only letting him go when the first pangs of overstimulation began to set in. Even without your encouragement, he didn’t go far. You felt the mattress shift, sensed his body on top of yours, and then, his mouth was crashing into your own, his kiss all teeth and tongue and violent lust. Within seconds, you could taste your blood on his lips, make out the little, airy noises only partially muffled by your connection. You could—

Your fist was crashing into his cheek before you had time to think, to stop yourself. Your knuckles caught his jaw with enough force to pry him off of you and leave him on the floor, still sitting up but visibly folded into himself. You cursed under your breath, your eyes only flitting to the door once before you lowered yourself to the ground beside him. There was a half-hearted snarl, but it died in his throat as soon as you were close enough to cup his cheek. You let out a softened coo as you pulled him close, pressing a fleeting kiss into his forehead. “Ah, I know, I know.” Another kiss, this one to the bruise forming along his jaw. Your remorse, although left mostly unspoken, was genuine. Anyone would’ve mourned leaving a mark on such a beautiful face. “Are you hurt?”

“As if something like that would affect an Avatar.”

As sharp-tongued as he was defensive. You were thankful for his ego-serving tendencies in this moment more than most. With an airy laugh, you strung your arms over his shoulders and let him bury his face in the dip of your shoulder. “Just don’t surprise me like that again, alright?” And then, after he managed to nod, “I know you’re strong enough to take it, but it’d break my heart to see you get hurt. Because of something so trivial, especially.”

When he didn’t pull away, didn’t respond at all, you sighed. “Do you have anything to say to me?”

It was little more than a mumble, spoke just under his breath. “Thank you,” he paused, melted that much further into you, “for taking care of me.”

“Good boy.”

You left a few minutes later, dressed in one of his shirts and little else. For your own peace of mind, you decided not to think about how long it’d been since you’d seen him bury his teeth in anything aside from you.

~

Honestly, it’d been weeks since you’d seen his fangs at all.

You’d had this problem before. Ever the romantic, your idle mind tended to linger on what couldn’t be reclaimed, to drive you towards the pursuit of wild beauty despite knowing that truly untamed things couldn’t be found twice, let alone a few times a week, whenever the careful surveillance of his brothers lapsed and Satan could seek you out like some mangy, prowling predator, spurred on by the promise of relief. Really, you would’ve given up on him after that first encounter, after he failed to sink his claws into your neck, or—

A ragged grunt drew you out of your thoughts and back into the present moment, back to Satan where he hovered above you. You were in some shadowed tunnel of the catacombs underneath the House of Lamentation, tonight, and you’d been kind enough to let him take charge, to keep your thighs wrapped around his waist as he fucked into you like a trained mutt, rather than the wild animal you were looking for. The stone of the altar he’d laid you over was cool against your skin, his horns pleasantly calloused where your hands were wrapped around them, and yet, your mind still wandered, the feeling of his cock beating against the walls of your cunt numbed by your lack of interest. Satan was less unaffected, his eyes clenching shut as he buckled against you, burying his face in your chest as he pushed open-mouthed kisses into whatever he could reach. It was sickening, the thought that he might’ve wanted you to return such tender affection. It was sickening, the thought that he could be capable of being so banal.

His hips crashed into yours, and you felt his lips turn upward, his cock twitch inside of you. “I think—” A pitchy whine, a half-swallowed whimper. “I think I’m in love with you.”

God. You might’ve been starting to hate him.

You let your hands fall to his shoulders. “Down, boy.”

He shook his head, too lost in his own bliss to listen to you. You scowled, shoving lightly at his chest, attempting more to get his attention than to force him off of you. “Down. Unless you want me to assume you’ve forgotten how to be obedient.”

“I—I love you,” he repeated, and then again, “I love you.” One of your legs was forced over his shoulder, his chest pressed almost flush to yours – bending you in half in a way that would’ve been painful, if you’d been anyone else. You let out a throaty growl, marking the first time you’d stopped to his level, but Satan didn’t hesitate, didn’t relent, only bowing his head and letting his rhythm deteriorate into something less calculated, less taught. You would’ve been pleased, if you hadn’t been so angry with him. “We— We’re going to be together, and you’re going to be mine, and I’m going to be—”

You could see tears running down his cheeks, hear his voice shake from something entirely separate from pleasure or desperation. You cursed under your breath, dragging your nails down the length of his spine and clawing at his back with enough force to break the skin, but he didn’t seem to notice, didn’t seem to mind, to care, to notice.“I’ll be yours.” He sounded so pathetically determined, as he thought it would come true if he only spoke loudly enough, if he only fucked you desperately enough. He probably did. You’d never taught him any better, and you weren’t sure he had anyone else who would even know to try. “I’ll only be yours.”

You were struggling, now, thrashing underneath him, but he was still an Avatar, still ranks above any station you would ever be able to reach. He held you in a bone-crushing, heart-wrenching embrace; close enough for you to feel his heart beating through his chest, to pick up on the half-muffled sobs catching in his throat. He only pulled away to bring one of his hands up to your jaw, to hold you in place while he pressed his lips against yours in a kiss so soft and so gentle, you would’ve been tempted to call it loving had it not been so vile.

By the time he drew back, he was smiling, and you couldn’t seem to remember why you’d ever thought he could be anything but hideous.

“And you’ll never have to leave again.”

Oblivion

💌Yandere!Katsuki Bakugo x F!Reader💌

4.1k words

A commission for @jitsukawaa

Summary:

To Katsuki, the fact that you’re oblivious to your surroundings is both a blessing and a curse.

TW for: Dubcon

Tags:

College au, quirks still exist just fill the rest of the plot in in your head, cunnilingus/oral sex, dubious consent, bakugo having some subtly strange behaviours and some not subtle ones, thank you for commissioning me :D

———

You’d always tried your best to let him do his thing, unless it interfered with your daily life.

Because Katsuki had weird relationships with pretty much everyone. Eijiro, you’d seen that friendship in action during one of your classes. The way that Katsuki would silently offer him a pen, expecting no words of thanks or appreciation. Eijiro knew Katsuki well and thus did not say anything, knowing it would only irritate him.

Ashido had told you that he was a lot more explosive in high school. Apparently her friend group had slowly worked around those issues and managed to befriend him, even if it didn’t seem like it.

Keep reading

i miss salauddin sm pls give me more

hmmm I miss him too. ok how about some tooth rotting fluff?

Salauddin wakes up in the middle of the night, an hour before Fajr prayer. He always wakes up at the same time at night. He doesnt look to the other side of the bed, but he sees your form lying there, sleeping.

You never wake up for Tahajudd like him.

Salauddin makes his ablution, performs the Tahajudd prayer, making dua for you before anything else. He prays that you're always happy, prays for forgiveness from Allah on your behalf, prays to meet you in heaven. And then he makes a short prayer for himself, forgiveness for his past and future sins. He then prays Fajr, the morning prayer.

Salauddin then sits on the prayer mat, and he feels you sit beside him. He takes your hand in his, and starts tasbeeh on your fingers, counting them on your hands so that you get the reward too. He closes his eyes and he feels you lay your head on his lap. Usually, he would smile, but not today. He's mad at you today, and you know that. But you wont ever apologise, and he wont ever make you. He just needs to let it pass.

With his eyes closed, he recites the Quran. He's a hafidh, and he knows you're one too. But he still recites better. However, he loses his concentration today due to his frustration with you, and he hears the amusement in your voice as you correct his pronounciation, correct his mistakes.

Still he does not react. He keeps his eyes closed, his voice monotonous, not showing any signs of fluster. You cant get away with it everytime, not so easily at least.

He's mad at you. And you will know it.

After finishing recitation, he gets up and begins getting ready for the day. He hears you calling his name gently-

"Yusuf. Yusuf."

Yusuf. Only you are allowed to call him by his real name. And you use it to your favour, you know how his heart flutters at hearing his name roll from your tongue.

"Yusuf."

No. Not today.

He stands in front of the vanity, fixing his clothes. He wears his chaddar- the white chaddar you adore. Usually, he would wrap it around your shoulders, but not today.

Salauddin picks up the bottle of kohl, its the same one he bought you. He hears you whine his name as he places the kohl in his eyes. Usually, he would line your eyes with kohl before his, but not today.

Not after what you did last night.

He sits down in the balcony, the servant leaving a some dates and hot tea. He feels you sit opposite to him, trying to make him look at you, but he instead kept his eyes focused on the pyramids.

"Yusuf?"

Salauddin would usually feed you dates from his hands, after he took the seed out. He knows how it annoys you when your hands get sticky from the juices. But not today. Today, he only took the seeds out and put it in your plate and poured tea in your cup. You never had to use your own plate and cup, not when Salauddin fed you from his plate and shared his cup with you, blowing on the hot drink.

Not today.

He walks out of the room without eating, to attend to his duties. He didnt feel like having breakfast today, but he hopes you're not starving yourself at his expense... wherever you are. You dont follow after him when he left, you're a little short tempered like that. If he ignores you a few times, you give up trying to get his attention until he comes to you himself. You're not like him, you dont have patience for your beloved like he does.

But not today. Maybe some time apart will make you think about what you did.

Salauddin is fine as noon comes and he offers Dhudhr prayer, still no sight of you. You're probably taking a nap. He does get a little concerned after praying Asr, no sign of you all afternoon. Did you sleep through lunch?

Finally disturbed, he gives in and goes to look for you. He goes to the bedroom first, no sign of you. Then he makes his way to the dining hall, the library, before finally going to the stables.

He spots your figure there, standing in front of your favourite horse Rumi.

As always, he comes to you.

"Y/n."

He watches you turn away from him, crossing your arms over your chest with a huff. You're mad at him.

Salauddin's lip twitches.

"Y/n." He walks closer, coming up behind you.

"No." You say sharply as he tries to turn you around, shrugging his hand off your shoulder.

"Y/n-"

"No. I'm mad at you." You state.

"I know. I'm sorry." He apologises, as always. You never apologise.

You turn around, frowning at him. "You ignored me all day."

"I'm sorry."

"You misbehaved with me."

"I'm sorry."

"You didnt feed me."

"I'm sorry."

"You were mad at me." Were? So you know he's let go of his anger?

"I'm sorry."

"You should be."

He nodded. "I'm sorry."

"You didnt visit me all day."

"I'm sorry. I was going to now." He offered his hand. "Lets go?"

You smiled, finally letting go off the anger as you let him encase your hand.

Salauddin walked out of the stables, telling the servant to take care of the horses, especially Rumi.

A few minutes later, he reached the place he visited the most with you only.

The sun had set, the sky turning dark to indicate the time.

He looked at you. "Why dont you go in and wait for me? I just need to pray Maghrib."

You walked inside while he offered the evening prayer. And like every prayer, he prayed for you first, then his subjects and then himself.

He finished his prayer, and stood outside the entrance. He noticed a small flower growing outside. A pink flower. He plucked it gently.

With a deep inhale, he walked inside. His steps were gradual, despite it being darker than earlier. He knows you're not scared of the dark. Where you are, he hopes its not as dark.

He spots you sitting on the ground, waiting for him, looking sad. You perk up when you notice him.

"You came." You smiled. "You took so long."

"I'm sorry." He joined you on the ground, sitting next to you. "Here." He showed you the pink flower, watching your eyes lit up.

"Wow." You were in awe. "Its so pretty. Come on, place it."

With a smile, he nodded at your request. Salauddin took the flower and placed it on the grave.

The two of you sat in silence, and he felt you put your head on his shoulder.

"Only one flower? You should bring more." You complained.

He nodded. "Next time." He could never say no to you.

How could he explain to you that no matter how many flowers he dresses your grave with, you wont come back.

Salauddin stayed there for a bit longer, wiping his tears before returning home with you.

He offered the night prayer Isha, before lying in bed, where you were already waiting for him.

"Yusuf?" He opened his eyes. You were both lying on your sides, facing each other.

"Hm?"

"I'm sorry for not coming in your dreams last night." You pouted, surprising him as you apologised for the first time.

"I promise I'll visit tonight!"

Salauddin smiled. "Okay."

He could never be mad at you for long. He forgave you when you left this world, he can forgive everything else too.

Ngl, I cried writing this.

Sweet Valentine [wri0thesley OC Lucas x reader]

Title: Sweet Valentine [@wri0thesley OC Lucas x Reader]

Synopsis: It's Valentine's Day and Lucas has some sweet surprises planned, but things don't go as well as you'd hoped.

Word count: 3164

notes: Yandere, kidnapped reader, mentions of cannibalism, abusive relationship, mentions of violence, non-graphic descriptions of noncon and dubcon sex, reader is implied to be afab

“You… want somethin’ special for Valentine’s Day, sweetheart?”

Lucas’ voice is low and tender, and when you look up at him, you see a faint blush dusting his cheeks. It’s a familiar sight. He always gets like this, when it comes to romance. Or what he thinks is romance, anyway.

You think it’s all that vulnerability that comes along with romance; the possibility of rejection, as if you were stupid enough to outright reject anything he wanted to give you. Not unless you wanted to meet the sharp end of a glare

(Or an axe.)

But it’s there anyway, that vulnerability. In the way he sometimes glances away or the way his cheeks gain a deeper tint or the lilt in his voice. He gets awkward and when you’re feeling dark and low, you sometimes wonder what he’d do if you didn’t thank him for his gifts, if you didn’t lean into his arms when he opened them, if you wiped away his kisses, if you were as ungrateful and awful as you were currently too afraid to be. 

The answer always comes swiftly: He’d kill you, moron. 

Maybe not right away. But you’d chip at his goodwill, such as it was, bit by bit until nothing was left but raw steel. And where would that raw steel go? Right into your skull, stupid.

You’re a lot of things. Scared. A liar. Helpless. But you’re not stupid. 

So you return his blush with a practiced meek gaze. The kind where you glance up at him and then look quickly down, and cross one arm (but never both, that’s too petulant) over your chest. 

Shy, that’s what you are; or rather, what you’ve become in order to survive here. 

If he thinks you’re shy and quiet and meek, it seems easier for him to brush aside the way you tremble; the way you flinch; the way you sometimes find yourself begging him to wait, just wait oh please, you’re not quite ready to go all the way yet. 

And if you have to debase yourself by taking his length into your trembling hands, by letting him touch you until you trembled and came on his fingers, it’s what you’ll do to put off the inevitable for another day. 

“Nothing special,” you say, voice crackling with the dryness of the morning air. He doesn’t respond. He’s disappointed, you think. Nothing special isn’t good enough for Valentine’s Day. So you add, quietly but quickly: “But maybe… If it’s not too much trouble… some chocolate?” 

You glance up at him and he’s got an almost goofy smile on his face now. It makes you relieved--it makes you sick.

“Or--or we could watch a romantic comedy?” You suggest. You bite your lip then, a holdover gesture from your old life. “Oh, but you don’t really have any, so I guess we could just--”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that.” He pulls you close without giving you a choice and you lean your head against his shoulder, just like you ought to do. “I’ll find you somethin’ in town this weekend. Gotta go get some supplies anyway.” 

You smile and press your face towards his chest, so that he feels the curve of your lips against his shirt. “Thank you, Lucas. Really… really any movie you like is fine, but if you can find one, that would be okay.”

He sighs and presses one large hand against the back of your head, trailing it down past your neck--he could snap it so easily--until he’s rubbing your back.

“You’re the sweetest, you know that, angel?” 

You don’t answer, because you don’t need to, and he presses a kiss to the top of your head. 

You were good. You behaved well.  You did what he wanted. Did it matter that you didn’t want chocolates or to watch a movie with him for Valentine’s Day or any day at all? Did it matter that at home, your real home, you were loud and brash and your mother would have pissed herself laughing if anyone called you shy? 

No. Of course not.

If only the truth wouldn’t get you killed. 

You don’t want chocolates or a VHS copy of some outdated romantic comedy.

The only thing you really want for Valentine’s Day is to go home. 

--

The chocolate isn’t great, but it’s not awful, either. There was even a cherry cordial--your favorite--and Lucas’ eyes had lit up when you told him so. 

It was a nice surprise. 

After all, the cynical part of you imagined Lucas showing up with a dusty box of chocolates that tasted like stale sweetness; the kind you find overpriced at drugstores, boxes that forgetful husbands pick up on the way home from work on the day-of. 

But when he came home from town, he’d sheepishly handed over a bouquet of colorfully dyed flowers. A mixture of carnations that were an impossibly vivid pink and daisies with bright blue petals. It was just the kind of bouquet you used to pick out for your mom when you were a kid, because you were drawn to the pops of unnaturally colorful simple flowers more than you were ordinary red roses. 

“Know you like, uh…” He’d held out the bouquet and waited for you to take it from him before continuing. “Know you like this kind of pink, so…” 

You held the bouquet to your chest and felt something that might have been pleasure. It was nice to have something familiar. Something you might pick up at a supermarket on the way home from work. Real flowers were beautiful, of course, and you’d grown to love the sight of them surrounding the cabin. 

But these couldn’t be found in the wilderness in which you were now settled. They were a sign that people still existed out there, people that weren’t you and Lucas and the ghosts of people who came before you.

And that made them more special.

--

“Honey?”

“Angel?.”

“Darlin’.”

It’s the darlin’ that yanks you out of your disassociation. How long had it been going on? You glance down at your fingers and realize you’re holding a half-eaten chocolate bon-bon. Your elbow feels stiff, you must have been holding it up for a while.

You shakily set it back down on the box and force yourself to look over at Lucas, who is cuddled up next to you, holding you in a firm but warm grip, with his arm slung around your shoulder keeping you close. 

He looks irritated. Like you said something wrong again. Only you weren’t saying anything, but that might be the problem; ignoring him was just as bad (sometimes worse) as doing the wrong thing.

“You don’t like the movie?” His voice is gruffer than it should be today, of all days. 

The movie? 

Oh shit.

You blink and blink and slowly details around you come back into focus. The dim lighting in the cabin, to set the mood. The flickering light of the TV and the soft whir of the VCR that could only be heard faintly under the movie itself.

And the movie…

The movie was almost over. The VHS he’d found was of a vaguely familiar movie you remember seeing on TV a few times. It wasn’t a classic but it wasn’t a stink-bomb, either. 

“Angel…” 

He turns toward you and after a moment, takes your chin into his hands.  You quickly glance down--meek, shy, feeble thing that you are--so he doesn’t see the fear that must be blinking through the back of your eyeballs by now. 

“You don’t like the movie, do you? Did I pick the wrong one?” There’s none of the usual sweet compromise in his voice, though, that makes you think saying “yes” might be an option. Instead, you get the sense that he’s laying traps for you to step on. Traps meant for someone ungrateful who completely zones out during what was supposed to be a romantic evening snuggling on the couch. 

Dumbass, you think. I’m such a dumbass.

“Do you…” You speak suddenly and swallow hard. Talking is awkward with his fingers holding your chin, but he doesn’t let go. “Do you want a chocolate?” You offer up the box that’s half-empty by now. The cherry cordials were gone, and maybe you should have offered him one since they were your favorite. But there’s nothing to be done about it, so you hold up the last caramel-filled piece towards him. 

Maybe he’ll appreciate the gesture. 

He finally lets go of your chin and huffs out a snort through his nose. That’s good, usually. A sign he’s calming down. But he doesn’t smile at you, and you can feel the heaviness in the air, a sort of sick pressure that you need to relieve before it gets worse. 

“I’m not much for sweets.” He says this like you ought to know. And you do, actually, it’s just… you don’t know what else to do. 

Your lips quirk downward. You lift the piece until it’s close to his mouth. 

“I know, I just--wanted to share. Please? One bite?” It’s almost a reversal, really; the way he sometimes has to nudge you to eat, when your stomach is all twisted in knots from anxiety or when you can’t shove away the thought that what you’re eating is almost certainly not an animal. Sometimes he feeds you just because he’s in a particular mood, a mood where you need to be more fragile and helpless than you are, which isn’t saying much.

Lucas’ eyes widen then and he finally smiles softly at you. His voice is low and gruff but you think, not quite as irritated as before. 

“All right, angel. A bite.”

He opens his mouth and you slide the chocolate forward until it’s under his teeth. He takes a bite and you pull away, caramel dripping from the half-eaten chocolate that you set back in the box. 

Lucas chews with his mouth closed (he has impeccable manners when he’s not murdering people, thank God for that) but then there’s the thought of the chocolate and caramel being chewed by the same teeth that just ate a “steak” for dinner--what if there’s a stray piece of meat left in his molars and they mix? 

It’s enough to make the sticky sweet flavor of the cherry cordials rise in your throat, acidic and sour from the chocolate digesting in your stomach. 

“Sorry,” you murmur, nuzzling closer to him like an apologetic pet as he finishes chewing. “I didn’t mean to get distracted earlier.” 

Lucas hums and pulls you tighter against him, harder than normal. He presses a kiss against the side of your head. A hint of caramel wafts in the air.  

“Mind you don’t drift often again, honey.” 

-

Lucas is still upset with you. Although you can’t quite call this “still” upset, because this is different from earlier. He’s not still annoyed that you were distracted during the movie or, at least, that’s not the real source of his irritation.

But what--what did you do? You thanked him for the flowers and chocolates. You kissed him (on the lips!) after he gave them to you.  You snuggled on the couch and yes you fucked up during the movie, but you made up for it, you thought. 

You set the table for dinner without being asked, you ate without hesitation and complimented his cooking… you were quiet, you helped him clean up the eggs, you made a joke about Dolly the chicken needing a Valentine’s Day card from him and he chuckled at it. 

You didn’t argue when he insisted he scrub you up during the bath, even when his hand dipped between your legs and lingered on your chest. You quietly let him brush your hair and pick out your pajamas (a pink nightie, tonight) and did everything you thought he wanted.

So what in the hell did you do wrong today that has him practically glowering at you as you both sit on the bed? You’ve re-read the same page in your book a hundred times while you tried to figure it out. You can’t go to bed like this, wondering if he’s angry, wondering if you’ll wake up in the morning to find him hovering over you with a glare and a weapon. Or maybe you won’t even wake up at all. 

“Angel?” There’s a gruff edge to the word tonight that tightens your chest.

“Yes?” Your voice is squeakier than you intended. You tuck a bookmark into your pages and set the book down on your nightstand, and look up at Lucas with practiced meekness that is made all the more real through the gnawing fear in your belly.

Lucas hesitates before he speaks. Emotions shift on his face. Irritation, disappointment, even something you think is sadness. They only make the feeling in your chest worse. What did you do? Why is he acting this way?

“I… wasn’t expectin’ nothing fancy, you know. But I thought you’d at least make somethin’ for me today.”

Make something for him? 

Oh.

Oh.

Fuck.

In all your worries about behaving perfectly, you didn’t even think about getting Lucas something for Valentine’s Day. Making him a card or throwing together a quick embroidery hoop or--something. That’s what a good spouse would do, right? It’s what he would expect from you, on today of all days. Sure, he wasn’t big on presents, and he’d told you a few months ago not to worry about Christmas (you’d embroidered a scene outside the window of his bedroom, the trees and snow and a little silver rabbit) but this was different. 

It was a couple’s day, and you were part of that couple. 

And you’d fucked up.

He’s not done, either.

“I went outta my way to get you everything you wanted. Drove all the way into town… An’ you didn’t even pay attention during the movie.” If you weren’t increasingly terrified,  you might be able to snort at how petulant he sounded, complaining that you didn’t watch the movie well enough. But there’s nothing funny about the way his voice is starting to raise or the way you can practically feel his muscles getting tenser by the moment.

“Did you even appreciate any of it?” It’s more to himself than to you, and that scares you more than anything else has in recent memory. 

Your mouth comes up with a plan the exact moment that your brain does.  You’re not sure if your brain would have let you go through with it, if it had more than a split second to think. 

“I did get you something!” 

Lucas shifts on the bed and looks at you questioningly. He doesn’t look convinced. Not yet. There’s a swift moment in which you have to convince him and you jump into it, feet first.

“I… I just didn’t know how to wrap it, that’s all.” Your throat bobs when you swallow and you look up at him with a soft expression that’s part nerves, part hope. 

“I don’t know what y’mean, darlin’.”

 His eyebrows furrow and you take a deep breath before you reach over and take his hand. You give it a squeeze and shift on the bed yourself, this time leaning backwards on the pillows.

“My gift is…” Oh,  you don’t want to; but you have nothing else you can give him now. You swallow again and fiddle with the end of your nightgown. It’s a flimsy thing, isn’t it? 

“I’m ready to… that is--I’m ready to…” 

You can’t finish the words but you don’t need to, because both of Lucas’ eyebrows raise before his lips curl into a delighted smile as he realizes what you mean.

He looks giddy. He looks drunk, despite not having a drink tonight. He looks like he’s going to devour you, and you can only be mildly grateful that it’s not in the way you normally fear. 

“Oh, angel.” 

In moments, he’s shifted above you, his body looming over your own, filling up all of your space with his size and warmth. 

“This is the best gift you could give me.” He presses a chaste kiss to your lips, then again; a kiss to your cheeks, to your eyes that close so he can kiss the lids. “I’m sorry I doubted you. Oh, honey, you must have been thinkin’ about this all day. No wonder you were so distracted.” 

There’s nowhere to go, if you wanted to go. Nowhere to run, if you were capable of running. He’s here and you’re here and this is going to happen now.

No more putting it off, no more gentle pleas, no more convincing him that you can do that and not this, not yet.

All because you forgot to make a damn Valentine’s Card. 

His hands hold the edge of your nightie and begin to lift it up, exposing the soft cotton underwear underneath. 

“I love you so much. You know that, sweetheart?”

He doesn’t take the nightgown off; instead he bunches it up against your neck, exposing your chest. 

“I love you too,” you murmur, because you’ve had enough of your own stupidity today not to answer his declarations. 

Your eyes flick up to the ceiling as he begins pulling down your underwear. 

It’s going to happen now. He’ll fuck you. And once that happens, well. It’ll keep happening. Every night? Every other night? You don’t know, but he’ll expect it. Things are changing and you can’t stop them. All you can do is try to scramble for what little pleasantries this isolated, captive life can give you. 

Like not-bad chocolates and bunnies outside the window.

Lucas’ hands grip the meat of your thighs and pull them apart with little resistance on your end. You don’t want to make it worse, do you? And it was your idea, you can’t even pretend to be anything but meekly nervous, can you?

He murmurs something in appreciation at the sight of your naked sex and your fingers clutch the sheets underneath you in anticipation. 

You don’t want to look down. It’s like being at the doctor’s--looking away when they give you the shot. You hear the sound of his trousers being pushed down. But he doesn’t push into you just yet.

Instead, he leans down, pressing a hot, wet kiss to your mouth that opens without argument. 

There’s  a faint taste of peppermint toothpaste and a hint of lingering caramel--he didn’t brush his molars well enough, maybe--in his mouth. 

“Love you,” he whispers against your lips. Maybe he sees the nervousness in your gaze and for once, is fine with it. It’s normal to be anxious about your first time, after all. “It's gonna feel good, I promise… I know what I’m doin’.”

Damn, you think vacantly, stomach lurching against your thoughts when you feel the unmistakable press of something hot and hard and wet against your naked thigh. I wish I saved the second cherry cordial for tomorrow.

Hey, can I request mashiho, hyunsuk and junkyu as boyfriends instead🥺💘

tysm for requesting (again)!! tbh they all would be the most softest for their s/o im 🥺🥺🥺 rn

Them As Your Boyfriend Headcanons

Mashiho

would be constantly be a blushing mess

every time he compliments you, you end up blushing and vice versa

definitely the type to invest into couple items

whenever he goes on tour he would always, and I mean always buy a couple item

whenever you two have karaoke dates, Mashiho always makes the karaoke room into his very own concert

mans can sing and rap so you two will be having singing and rapping duets!

sorry but your camera roll wil be filled w him

he’s just so cute !!

yall would take the most cutest couple pictures!!

like going to Disney land and getting Minnie and Mickey Mouse ears !!!

posting stuff like that ^^^

whenever someone brings you up he just turns all giddy!!!

y’all would have fanboys from treasure ngl

they just think you’re both too cute

would probably love being the big spoon since he is small and it probably makes him feel manly 🥺🥺

nah jks if you’ve seen how he is with Junkyu then YOU KNOW that he’s 99.9% of the time gnna be the small spoon

since him and Junkyu are pretty close, y’all are gnna have a third wheeler

and the third wheelers probably gnna be you

jks jks!!

but Junkyu would probably be one of the first people mashi would go to advice for anything related to you

whenever you’re upset he would be upset as well :(

he probably wouldn’t know what to do so that’s when he goes to Junkyu

would most likely give you time to yourself

would probably act cute to make you feel better 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

so please communicate with him!!

when y’all fight he’d be so upset aswell :(

like he might not shed any tears but he would have absolutely no motivation to do anything

you two both need to confront each other and fix whatever problem arises!!

the only way you can make up after fights is through a lot of cuddles!!

Junkyu

most optimistic couple you two would be omg

wherever you two go the room just lights up

uk how after a storm there’s always the sun coming up???? THATS YOU TWO

funniest couple as well!!

biggest memes

you two would have so many inside jokes

like if anyone else heard the conversations you two have, they would be like ‘wtf’

y’all have the dumbest inside jokes as well

like whenever you see a black cap you two instantly think of yg balding

you don’t even have to say it you two just burst out laughing

you two would probably have an alien couple type of nickname im srry

okay so; y’all would take the most meme worthy photos ??? like whatever sunglasses you two see you just put it on and start posing

you two would find a wig and make a whole fashion show while wearing that wig omg

he is a sensitive man

despite having a seemingly very outgoing exterior, on the inside he seems insecure

and you’re probably the reason on how he’s slowly getting over those insecurities

you’re going to be reassuring him a lot bc he’s the type to over think ALOT

whenever something upsets him, the only thing that would make him feel better is some alone time with you

you just holding him in your arms whispering sweet nothings as he cries it alllll out

now you see, you’re probably the ‘stronger’ one of the relationship

bc if the positions were switched and you were the one crying in his arms;

he would definitely be crying with you 🥺

it just hurts him to think that the person that is literally the sun of his world is going through some type of hardship

it hurts him vvvvv much

when you two get into fights he would think it’s his fault immediately so that’s why he needs reassurance!!!

if you’re ever upset w him (most unlikely) please communicate with him bc he’ll start making assumptions that you might wanna break up w him :(((

so please talk it out !!

anyways! junkyu: an amazing boyfriend :)

Hyunsuk

the best person to go to for fashion advice

he KNOWS his brands and what accentuates your features

so if you had bad taste in fashion; not anymore with hyunsuk you don’t !!

you two are the power couple

also the fashion couple !

you two both dress up like bad asses

when the two of you walk down the streets people are literally turning heads

the fashion! the power! the vibes!

literal power couple

ppl would take pictures of you two bc of how good you two look

would love to do some raps w you

like some bobby x mino songs 😎

ends with him almost bursting a lung bc of laughter

and it’s bc of u

the type to tease you

if you rap a certain way he’s gnna imitate you for the rest of your life srry

tbh yg has been a piece of shit to him

and everyone knows that

but you’re the one whose threatening to beat ygs ass

and that makes him smile :)

and it does make him feel better

it’s probably rly hard for hyunsuk since only a few members from Team A debuted w him

and since he’s the eldest of the group now he gets stressed

and that’s when you need to hold him and reassure him

(just like Junkyu hehe)

but it’s not as bad as Junkyu

he just needs a bit of reassurance

when you two get into fights he would be more on the mad than sad side

but that’ll soon die down after he realises that he can’t be upset with you

and vice versa

might feel like a disappointment

oh god hyunsuk just deserves better :(

yg treated him like dirt ;(

I’m sad now :((

ANYWAYS

I think he prefers being the big spoon

loves playing with your hair !!

becomes your hair stylist (+your actual stylist)

would make raps about you 🥺🥺

would also have you listen to whatever raps he writes before he shows it to ygs ugly ass

would always send you good morning and good night texts

NEVER forgets to

hyunsuk: soft boyfriend 🥺🥺🥺🥺