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shadowtraveled · 6 months

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"mithrun is the only real monsterfucker in dungeon meshi" is objectively the funniest bit you can get out of his everything, but in all seriousness i think his attraction to his love interest is deliberately overstated—and that makes sense, because romantic jealousy is a classic and digestible motive, which is explicitly what kabru was aiming for in condensing mithrun's backstory, and also because until chapter 94, mithrun wasn't willing to admit to the true nature of his desires.

but because romantic envy is both classic and digestible, it probably isn’t a unique enough or complicated enough desire to tempt a demon’s appetite. mithrun’s wish, as far as we can figure from kabru’s reduced retelling, was to have a life in which he had never become one of the canaries, and that carries like 3857 implications and desires within it. that’s delicious. his love interest acts as sort of a red herring to his motivation for making it, though. (side note: i'm saying "love interest" here because, keeping in mind that i barely speak japanese on a good day anymore, "想い人" is something i'd usually take as just kind of an old-fashioned and romantic way to refer to a lover, but in context i wonder if both the connotation of yearning and the vagueness are intentional, and i think this phrasing gets those aspects of it more effectively. anyway.)

mithrun considered his love interest to be untrustworthy. there was a minute where i thought that comment might be about a similar-looking elf (yugin, one of his squad members), but comparing the two…

the "sketchy" arrow is definitely referring to the elf we know as his love interest—the bangs go toward her right, she only has the one forehead ornament, and, most notably, her ears aren't notched.

every time she’s given a full-body depiction in his dungeon, she’s drawn as a chimera, with the body of a snake from the waist down. (side note: the “what if a dungeon has chimeras before reaching level 4?”/“then the dungeon lord is unstable” exchange just being mithrun grilling his past self alive is so funny. he’s so. but anyway) there are a couple things about this.

first, the snake part of the chimera appears to be modeled after some species of coral snake mimic

which, in the biology-for-fun manga, i… doubt is a coincidence, especially with the added context of the “untrustworthy” comment. the dungeon’s conjured illusion of mithrun’s love interest was a harmless copycat of a venomous original. for whatever reason, he felt this person was a threat and made up a "safe" version of her to be in a relationship with, and while it’s definitely possible to be attracted to or even love someone you find to be toxic and/or intimidating, when you take that into consideration alongside the configuration of her body, you get some interesting implications.

which brings us to our second point: if we assume that mithrun was not in fact fucking a snake, then sexual attraction, at least, was so far removed from his idea of a relationship with this person that he did not even bother to keep her dungeon copy human enough to maintain the illusion of the option of a sexual relationship. this is somewhat echoed in the depictions of their interactions, which also imply a frankly unexpected romantic distance. she kisses his cheek and he doesn't seem to react; she's at the edge of a narrow bed with only one set of pillows, on top of his blankets while he's underneath them.

the kiss is particularly interesting because it seems to contrast the text. kabru's narration tells us this was everything mithrun could have asked for, but mithrun is there looking unreadable to pensive, likely because this is right before the panel that makes it clear things in the dungeon are beginning to go wrong.

walking through this backwards for a minute, we have the physical barrier of his bedding and the spatial separation inherent in a bed made for one person, the emotional barrier of his mounting anxiety getting in the way of his ability to enjoy the affection he sought, and... the snake, which historically carries the connotation of temptation, yes, but also mistrust, barring physical intimacy. okay. ok. if a dungeon reflects the mentality of its lord, all of this might suggest that mithrun was not able to have any real desire for a relationship with this person. his unwillingness to be vulnerable or let another person in was insurmountable. but in that case, why was she such a focal point that she remained to the end, after his dungeon had stopped creating iterations of his friends to come and visit him? why would he get so upset over her meeting with his brother that he became lord of a dungeon about it?

well. mithrun's brother was also interested in her, probably genuinely. and mithrun had to win.

you have an older brother who your parents completely ignore, probably in part because he is chronically ill/disabled and almost definitely in part because he received a ton of recessive traits that resulted in rumors that he was an illegitimate child. you are aware, most likely because those same parents fucking told you, that you actually are an illegitimate child. but they keep you around because you had the good fortune of looking just like your mother. what can that possibly teach you but that you, like your brother, are disposable?

it's utterly unsurprising that mithrun, under these circumstances, developed a pathological need to be better than everyone around him. people don't keep you otherwise. i'd argue this is also why he says he looked down on everyone he knew while milsiril claims his dungeon reeked of feelings of inferiority—he sought out people's worst traits and prioritized them in his mind to protect his already extremely fragile sense of self-worth, and all the while he tried to be as likable and high-performing as he possibly could be. his parents disposed of him anyway, but even then he tried to keep up the performance. he was kind to everyone. he never once lost to a dungeon.

when he saw his "love interest" meeting up with his brother, what he saw was himself being replaced by a person his parents had always treated as worthless, and if that was what they thought of the child they'd kept, what value could anyone possibly see in the bastard they'd given away to die? mithrun and kabru tell the story like he wanted to win this unnamed elf's heart, but it was never about being with her. it was about cementing his worth, proving that he didn't deserve to be thrown away.

and so it's particularly cruel that his demon discarded him, too. but maybe it's also particularly gentle that, in the end, there was someone who refused to even consider giving up on him.

kui laid it out in three panels better than i could hope to.

yeah. it's love. you wanted to be loved, even when the only way you were able to understand it was through the desire to be wanted, and you wanted that so badly that the idea of being consumed felt like the promise of finally mattering to someone.

#dungeon meshi spoilers #mithrun #dungeon meshi #this has been rotating for a while but i wanted to check my evidence before getting into it thanks user angelspenance for posting that meme #half of this is just the text and the other half i'm sure has been said before but it's making my brain [radio static] so here this is #someone did for sure mention this but i do find it very cute that in his fucked up conjured world meant to portray his ideal reality #his teammates came to visit him. like part of the fantasy was then explicitly that they cared about him and were his friends. even though #he says he tried to see the worst in them.#hm it does feel important to note that i do also believe 100% in mithrun suicidality--his desire to be eaten does seem to focus a lot on #wanting it to be Over. wanting not to be left incomplete and empty anymore.#but that loops back around a bit to the hole in your heart that appears when you feel unloved. it's many things and the same thing at once #snakes #long post #severe problems #meshy

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liillyliilly · 3 months

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The Herpetologist

daishou suguru x reader words; 4456 synopsis; daishou suguru goes crazy for one (1) girl and it's the same girl who tells him that she hasn't had her first kiss.

It was always those damn Nohebi afterparties.

The kind that made her face burn in embarrassment. It was cruel really, trying to not hamper the mood of all her friends by declining to play any of the games. For once, she wished that the Nohebi third years would just play Uno. Or maybe, she should ask her friends to stop dragging her to the 18+ parties.

If she was at a normal party, maybe she wouldn’t be sipping a Coke-A-Cola in the corner while her best friend was essentially getting mauled by one of the basketball players. Or maybe this was what actual parties were. What happened to parties where everyone wanted to hit pinatas and watch the newest Jurassic Park movie? What was once popcorn and the Hot Billboard Pop 100 had gradually shifted into jello shots and music that made her toes curl.

To contemplate this shocking discovery longer than needed was distracting her from the original reason she was standing in the cold corner. Her designated corner. She hadn’t kissed anyone yet. It just didn’t feel right to waste a kiss on some stupid high school boy who probably didn’t brush his teeth enough. It also didn’t feel right to waste a first kiss during some ridiculous game only designed by the horniest of teenage desires.

She would go window shopping during times like these. Scanning around the room for a potential option that she could possibly be okay with giving her first kiss to. She never took the first jump into that pool.

It was always those damn Nohebi afterparties.

Daishou Suguru sat on an empty loveseat, arms resting on the length of the back of the couch. His legs were comfortably spread out, leaning back deeply into his seat.

He couldn't care less for the flitting around, drinking, and ridiculous games. Where was all the honest, genuine human connection? Not that he wanted that either. He just wanted something cunning to observe, entertainment at others' expense was his true forte.

Unfortunately, manipulation of people didn’t fly at a party the same way that it did on the volleyball court. He wished he could call Mika, at least so she could tell him an interesting story about college life. Despite their romance not turning out the way he had hoped, they stayed good friends. She was someone who he could rely on. Her new boyfriend was nice, and let Daishou drive his motorcycle around one time for kicks and giggles.

Drinking during the volleyball season was an illogical decision, but drinking when the season was over seemed appealing. Daishou just couldn’t drag himself over to the mixing table.

His thoughts were processing the music. Someone should’ve banned the person who had AUX. It was the third time that “The Color Violet” by Tory Lanez had played.

Clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, Daishou got up and slithered over to the kitchen. In the corner was the girl. She was the one that his buddies had talked about. They complained that she never joined in on any of the games. They had said she refused to take body shots or give body shots. When they scoffed about her antics during the discussion in the locker room, Daishou just kept quiet.

He poured himself a glass of Sprite, threw an ice cube in his cup for good measure, and leaned against the kitchen island facing her.

They both just sipped from their drinks, analyzing the situation. Daishou had entered her territory wordlessly and had claimed a section of it for himself. She wasn’t going to speak first. Why should she have to speak to this prick? She knew him from class, class 6. She had wanted to test into class 7 but it was already full.

“L/N right?” Oh, goody.

“Daishou Suguru, right?”

He raised an eyebrow at the bite she had inserted. He felt like he was going to have a great time with her.

And he did. They had talked all night.

“That’s when I knew I loved volleyball.” Daishou spun around in the office chair. The two of them had migrated to the bougiest office either of them had ever seen. Some of the non-scholarship kids who attended Nohebi Academy were all set for life, including inheriting whatever kind of job provided for an office this expansive.

She was sitting on the window sill, tracing the various shapes on the seat cushions.

Daishou decided to investigate a little.

“You never play the games. You know, the intellectually stimulating game of Spin the Bottle. Or the ever-richly academic Suck and Blow. Or, or my buddy's personal favorite, Marathon Kissing.”

Maybe she felt like she wouldn’t be judged. Maybe she felt like this was a potential opportunity for an actual friendship. Was he lulling her into a false sense of security, or was that earnest tone of voice an actual curiosity?

“I don’t want my first kiss to be for some silly game.”

She got him hook, line, and sinker.

Or maybe he got her.

“How about lessons with a teacher?”

“Kissing lessons? That has to be some form of dubious prostitution schtick.”

“I don’t know, maybe if you had someone to teach you, or at least someone low-pressure that you don’t care about as your first kiss then you could become less of a social pariah at these things.”

“A social pariah, how kind of you to let me down gently.” She stood up from her spot on the window sill and rested her hands on the huge dark oak table. The black mat likely was used to hold a MacBook Pro, and the pen holder contained an expensive German fountain pen, both paragons of the wealth that was held by the owner of this home.

Daishou stood up as well and shrugged.

Her dad used to be really into the whole survivalist thing. She remembers all the stories and rules about snakes. Red touching yellow kills a fellow. The Japanese Mamushi snake was known for literally liquefying the tissue of the victims who got bitten. The Habu snake, found in Okinawa, was naturally aggressive, attacking before even getting provoked. But there was always the Japanese Keelback, a naturally calm, non-poisonous snake that was so small it liked to hide in rivers and streams.

Would he be the Keelback or the Habu? Only time would tell for her.

They kissed for the first time that night, her sitting on the desk, him shoving the ornamental decorations off the table. He held her face in his hands. He leaned so far forward that she was lying on the desk instead of sitting. Hands went from her face to her back, trying to push her up against him.

She wondered if she was a good kisser, or if that was all Daishou’s doing. If he made kissing seem so simple and natural like this. Was that a moan or was she just hearing things? His hands were behind her now, resting on the desk. He didn’t know why but he was keeping his face close to hers, letting his breath hit her neck. Was he panting from a simple kiss, or was the room just hot?

“Are you a liar?” Daishou used his hand to lift her chin, moving her face so he could pretend he was a detective, searching for clues to his hypothesis.

“I, uh, no. I’m not a liar.”

As much as they both wanted to pretend the kiss hadn’t affected either of them. Their share of tension, like a tightly strung cello string, meant they spent way more time together on a day-to-day basis.

He wishes that he didn’t seek her out as often as he did. Suddenly every test score was being placed on her desk to compare. Every essay was scrutinized not just by his eyes, but by hers as well. Lunches with the volleyball team talking about plans and games turned into sitting in Daishou’s car trading fruit cups for pieces of chocolate he had his mom import from Europe because he begged.

The question in both their minds was when they would kiss again. Tomorrow? Next week? Daishou prayed it wouldn’t be more than an entire month. She put her stupid feelings on the line when she asked for another lesson.

They weren’t at a party, they were at his house. He told his mom that they were studying because they were studying something. Instead of classic literature, or calculus, it was the art of the hickey.

Daishou realized he would have to articulate what little he knew about hickies. At least he brushed his teeth four times before she came over.

“Suguru, that’s the third time you’ve brushed your teeth, do we need to go to the dentist again? Want to borrow my waterpick?” His mom had called from the dining room, she was looking through university options for him. Trying to find one in Tokyo that would both challenge him and be close enough to home so she could see her son more often than a blue moon.

“I’m good. Thanks though.”

She came to his house earlier than expected, still wearing the Academy uniform. The girl’s uniform consisted of a pleated yellow skirt, a white button-up, and a green sweater vest. The emblem of a snake wrapped around a shield was carefully stitched onto the left breast pocket. Daishou was still in the bathroom, brushing away while listening to his playlist, he was nodding his head to the beat of “Snooze” by SZA.

When all music suddenly became all about her, he wondered if he still had brain cells that weren’t occupied by his favorite academic competition.

She knocked on the door and Daishou’s mom opened it. She had the same dark, slanted eyes that he did. Her black hair was shoulder-length and curled, she had the same dimples when she smirked at her son’s study companion for the evening. So this was the girl Suguru wanted chocolates for.

“Come in, come in.” Daishou’s mom ushered. “Suguru will be down in a minute.”

Looking around at photos was a good way to pass the time, there was one of Daishou on a soccer team, one on a baseball team, basketball, swimming, and all the other sports. When he appeared to be around middle school, everything was volleyball. There was a certificate of academic achievement resulting in a scholarship award.

“I was so proud when he got into Nohebi. His dad would’ve loved to see him at his alma mater.” Daishou’s mom opened a wooden box on the mantle place, flipping through some pictures before telling Y/n to come and look at the select few.

Daishou was younger in this picture, his mom looked younger too, and there was a man too. His dad. He had his arm around Daishou’s mom and a hand on Daishou’s head. An unreal smile was on everyone’s faces.

Daishou’s mom kept scanning through photos, she landed on one and froze for a moment. It was Daishou in a formal suit, his mother in a black long-sleeve dress, and a memorial picture of his father surrounded by white flowers and green shrubs. Their eyes were red, and his mom was managing a neutral expression, but Daishou looked like he wanted to be anywhere but in that photo.

“Suguru adored his father.” She sniffled, mouth quivering, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to damper your mood. I just thought a few cute photos of Suguru would sell you a little on my son. It's been so long since he had a girl over, especially one who’s smart. He just talks about you endlessly, I almost thought my ear would fall off.”

They didn’t have a lesson on hickies that night. Instead, they ate dinner with his mom and watched a movie. She was curled up with a blanket, watching the screen intently wondering what was going to happen to the main character.

He said he needed to go and get a glass of water. The college brochures were strewn across the kitchen island. He remembered what university she was planning on going to, so he picked up the information booklet for that same university. Grabbing a black marker, he bit the cap off and circled the application deadline several times. Using a thumb tack he put the paper right in the center of the corkboard.

Graduation was great, a blast even. It was three hours long, and the first fifteen felt like they lasted forever. Suddenly, the top students were giving their speeches, she got her diploma and she remembers cheering for Daishou to accept his. And then it was over.

And then he was pulling her aside, shoving a paper into her hands.

“Read it.” She nodded. “Now I mean.”

She skimmed the paper, looked up at him, and then looked back down to the paper.

“Suguru this is great! They gave you the Secondary Academic Merit award!”

“There’s more,” He pointed a finger at something he had highlighted green.

“They compounded it with a volleyball scholarship too? You get to play for the school and your education is free.”

In a moment she was picked up and gently spun around. His tongue peeked out to wet his lips, she could hear him swallowing. He mumbles. She cups his face with a hand, making him look at her. It's a short kiss, first on the corner of the mouth, then straight on.

“I still think you’re a liar.” He recalls the first-ever kiss they shared.

Then it dawns on him.

“The school? Don’t you mean our school?”

Some other school gave her a full tuition scholarship. The universities were approximately 3.38 hours away from each other by car. By train, the time was shaved by 0.14 hours. Daishou knows because he spent his graduation night calculating distances and adding up costs for tickets.

His mom tried to get him to eat the seaweed soup she had made, but he was busy writing everything down in his notebook.

He saved up all his frustrations, worries, and joy and then planned a weekend trip to her university. He liked to spend at least an hour or so chomping on her neck leaving teeth marks and arrangements of soft bruises from the remnant kisses.

When she asked him about it, he just shrugged. When she asked him about it again, he seemed to brush the topic away and offered to go get lunch together. The third time she asked was the time she got an answer from him.

“Because it’s to show that you’re mine.” He said it with a calm face. Almost as if he was asking her to ask him about it further. So she entertained him.

“And why exactly do you feel the need to show people that I’m yours?” She tilted her head, accidentally exposing a fresh canvas of skin. In an instant, his mouth was on her neck, biting it as he continued to explain.

“Because then I’m actively claiming you as mine. Despite my lack of physical presence, I’m still there somehow. That way no one will try anything funny.” He nipped at her skin, his sharp canine stabbing into her neck. “Do you know how tough it is being in class sometimes, wondering if there’s another dude in one of your classes who’s eying you up? Especially when you wear that cream-colored cardigan over your yellow sundress?”

When she lets out a short yelp at a bite, Daishou smiles against her skin.

“Plus, you make really pretty noises.”

While Daishou may have initially been a Keelback snake, he evolved into a Habu over time.

He felt like volleyball was going nowhere, each practice felt longer and more exhausting. Each game felt dull. Same plays, same tricks, same result. He wondered why winning so often felt like winning nothing at all. Did he love volleyball?

His dad sure loved volleyball. Each game that was on TV became all that his dad would talk about sometimes. Wearing jerseys and eating huge plates of yakitori on Sunday nights. Daishou’s father always would point at the screen, right when an outside hitter got a deep unreceivable kill spike, saying that's what should be plastered as a true athletic feat. To jump so high, to hit so hard that you became practically a bird.

A bird. His dad was like a bird. Not a crow, or an eagle, not even an owl. But a falcon, a peregrine falcon. One time, at the zoo, when Daishou was still small enough to sit on his dad’s shoulders, his dad whispered and told him to look at the leftmost tree branch within the cage. There it sat, the falcon. Preening at its wings and looking around one head movement at a time.

The fascination with birds was lost on Daishou. He preferred to watch the snakes, the way they slithered around, leaving no trails in the dirt. Wrapping around and around on branches. Even the way their tongues flitted out when they hissed. Sharp fangs get down into the meat of its prey.

“Stay with me for summer break.” He was picking at the orange peel, phone resting between his shoulder and his ear.

“I can’t.” She was lying in bed, typing away on one of her final essays for the year. The first year of university was almost over, and she was killing it.

“Yes, you can stop saying you can’t.” Daishou put a segment of the orange in his mouth, throwing away the peel. He sat down on his couch. His school year had finished a few weeks ago. His mom was out of the country for a case she had to investigate in Hong Kong. Having a hot-shot lawyer mother was nice, but it also meant long durations of staying in an empty house by himself.

There were only so many things to do alone. Tokyo was vibrant and perfect, but without her it was boring. No interesting conversations, no teasing, and no warmth.

She hesitated. She was hesitant. Hesitance was what all animals went through before going right into fight or flight. Daishou didn’t know what to do to bring her over from her school and back to his home. He remembered what his mom said about her trip.

“How about we go to Hong Kong, just for a month?”

“A trip like that is way too expensive.”

“Mom’s there already, her employer gave her a very large, very spacious penthouse to stay in while the lawsuit is still going on.” She was listening, and so he kept going. “I have some money saved for tickets.”

He had just attacked first, without provocation. Adding a new depth to their relationship.

Hong Kong was beautiful. The first night there, despite being riddled with sleep deprivation and jet lag, they went to a food market, trying everything they could get their hands on. Wonton noodles, dim sum, egg tarts.

The smoke from the grills floated around, mixing with the smoke from all the uncles' chain smoking and yelling at each other in Cantonese. Bright neon signs shouted at people to come into the stores. They sat in the open air outside, tightly packed into a table meant for one person. She was sipping some broth, and he was playing with her hair.

The company penthouse was probably worth more than Daishou’s school campus. High ceilings, marble floors. It reminded him of the house from Parasite, just without all the murder. His mom was on her laptop on a huge white couch in the main living area. When they entered, she exclaimed.

“Ru, you should’ve told me when your plane got in! I would’ve picked you both up.” Daishou’s mom was kissing his face and he was leaning away, but he let his mom smooth down his hair while she clicked her tongue against the roof of her disapprovingly.

“It's all good, we went and did a little exploring.” Daishou rubbed Y/n’s back, his thumb moving back and forth on her shoulder.

“Well, you must be tired. Your room is to the left, down that hall.”

She had begun unpacking, putting clothes in the chest of drawers. Daishou was taking a cold shower, scrubbing his hair with the shampoo she bought. She folded his clothes and put them away too. She flung herself onto the bed and soaked into the covers, a huge foam mattress with some bounce.

Her phone binged, a message from a friend back at school. Her friend talked about how jealous she was that she was out of the country with her boyfriend. Then her friend complained about her boyfriend, saying he never did anything out of the ordinary or interesting. She said that she knew too much about her boyfriend.

Did she know too much about her boyfriend? Daishou was open enough, telling her all the important details, except for the stories and memories from his last year in primary school before entering middle school. She knew he liked volleyball because of a story he told about his dad, but that was the only time Daishou had mentioned his dad. You had seen more photos as time passed, but it didn’t feel like enough. She shook the thought, if he wanted to share he would. No need to bring up things that weren’t relevant at the moment.

When he came out of the bathroom he had a towel around his waist and wet hair. He had cut it recently, so his bangs were no longer swept to the left side of his face, instead it was a short fringe across his forehead. His dimples were on full display.

“Hi, pretty lady.” He picked out some clothes, hanging them over his arm. “You look beautiful.”

He sweet talked too much and she was too tired to be clever in turn, “I’m sweaty, dirty, and have been wearing these sweatpants for over twenty-four hours.”

“Exactly, beautiful. If the pants really are bothering you I can take them off, you know, as a favor.” He slowly made his way to her, for a second she thought she saw a pair of rattlesnake fangs appear on his smile.

She scrambled out of bed and grabbed the pajamas she had set on the side table, going to the bathroom.

“Aw c’mon, let me live a little.”

“Not today Satan.”

“It’s Suguru.”

One moment they were holding hands in the Kowloon Walled City Park, the next, they were ducking for cover from the heavy rain. Daishou used his jacket to cover their heads, tucking her under his arm so that she would stay dry. He looked around and found a structure they could stand under, at least until they had a plan for what to do next.

Shaking off the jacket, grateful for the waterproof coating, he wrapped it around her. Rubbing her arms to try and generate some warmth.

“Try not to think too much about the cold, it’ll make it worse.” His teeth were slightly chattering, but he put on a grin, scrolling through his phone to check the weather and nearby restaurants they could escape to.

“That’s all pseudoscience. You should know that.”

“I’m not a science major.” Daishou found his money shot, calling for a ride using the extremely broken Cantonese that he had learned.

When they got into the taxi, she put Daishou’s jacket back on him, rubbing his arms the same way that he had done for her earlier.

The driver looked at the two of them in the rearview mirror, said some things in a language that was most definitely not Cantonese, and handed Daishou the GPS ready for him to enter their desired location.

“ภรรยาของคุณดูจะรักคุณมาก.” The driver smiles, turning on the meter in the car after taking the GPS back.

“ขอบคุณ.”

She elbowed him lightly, “What the heck?”

“Half-Thai right here,” Daishou raised his hand, “My dad immigrated to Japan with my grandparents when he was young though, so I don’t know much else besides a kindergarten understanding. My speaking ability is even worse.”

“How come I never knew this?

“You never asked.” Is that really what their relationship had come to? She didn’t ask so the information was never given?

The rest of the trip flew by, and then they were back on the plane.

“Tell me about your dad.” She wanted to know. And if he wasn’t going to give answers, she was going to ask for them.

“My dad was amazing.” Daishou smiled. One of those bright smiles that made you want to drop everything and only look at him. He talked about his dad for the rest of the flight home, even when she was fighting sleep, she kept listening to him. Daishou held her hand in his.

Graduations came and went.

Birthdays came and a pet snake stayed.

He remembered when she finally had gotten used to kissing, he did teach her about hickeys, and she was a fast learner. Almost too fast.

“Suguru, my turn.” She pushes him away lightly, leaning up on her forearms as the two of them laid on his bed.

“What?” He stutters out. Suddenly very self aware he folds his arms over his bare chest.

“Let me leave a hickey this time. C’mon, my turn Suguru.” It was as if he had melted, his face red and his ears burning. She flipped them over as she straddled his waist, before leaning down and softly brushing her lips over his jaw. Before trailing down and ghosting her tongue over a spot on his neck.

She keeps testing around, looking for the sweet spot. When she nips at a junction between his shoulder and neck he sucks in a deep breath. Pressing another kiss to the spot she opens her mouth and starts to suck at the skin, circling her tongue around the area.

When she pulls away, a small hickey starts to show on his neck. When she looks back to Daishou, he is covering his face and muttering incomprehensibly.

“Aw, I got you all mushy over a kiss.”

“It wasn’t just a kiss! It was a hickey!”

“You’re right, it was just one hickey, but I can do more if you want?”

“No! One is fine! I like one! One, um, one is a good number for today.”

Daishou felt like he found his person. Looking at her cooing at the snake through the glass terrarium was definitely something that made him glad that he had picked her that night. Those damn Nohebi afterparties, making him find his forever person.

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