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coldfanbou · 11 months

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If Only You Knew

Welcome one and all to day 21. Where we see what Minju does as a "job" We have a few guest appearances in this one, too.

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Minju x Mreader

It was expected that Minju would be a full-time actress, that she would film multiple things and debut quickly. That wasn’t how things were turning out for her currently. You found it funny that people called her jobless online. Minju wasn’t jobless, but she did have a very different job from acting.

Special arrangements had been made between you, her, and her company. She would be a pivotal piece to your business now that you struggled to get the job done on your own. You first discovered your ability about two years ago when you had sex with the superstar Kim Taeyeon. To finish you off, she had you down her throat. The tip of your cock pressed against it, and you came down her throat. Taeyeon drank it all without complaint, even going as far as giving the tip of your cock a kiss before leaving to perform. When she returned to the green room, she mentioned feeling better than usual while performing; she was more energetic, and her voice didn’t feel as strained. You felt like she jumped to conclusions when she said it was your cum that did it. After all, it sounded absolutely ridiculous. Still, she was sure, and to prove it, she got the rest of Girl's Generation involved. Each member was given a free sample, and each returned after their performance to claim the same thing. News spread quickly in the industry, and companies would do anything to get better performances out of their female idols, so they came calling.

Unfortunately, things were not quite as cracked up as you thought they’d be. Initially, you guessed it meant being able to have sex with all the idols that were allowed to get some, but the companies were strict with a no-sexual-contact rule. They didn’t even let you get close to the idols; soon enough, using a Fleshlight became difficult for you. You could hardly bring yourself to cum after using one for so long. Even if the idols wanted to break the rules and help you, they couldn’t because they were getting their hair or makeup done. That’s where Minju came into play; her company offered to loan her to you in exchange for something. You agreed to the terms, and Minju was now yours to use. Every part of her beautiful body was now meant to stimulate you. She was meant to milk you of every drop of cum.

She was doing her job well so far. Tonight was meant to be a special performance that had a few performers. A deal was worked out for the two of them to be able to share your cum for the night. There was no curtain to hide behind, so that meant Minju would be exposed to them, people she knew well. You undress her quickly, marbling at her fantastic body. You loved it; she had good tits, a toned stomach and great legs. You run your hands over her body, feeling up her breasts and squeezing her thighs before moving to her slit. You spread her lips apart, noticing that she was already getting wet. You smirk; her body is getting used to your touch and learning. Minju closes her eyes; if she didn’t look at the others in the room, they didn’t exist. You slide your finger along her slit, moving it back and forth until your finger is coated in her sweet nectar, and you push in. Minju’s walls press against your finger as it moves inside her. She can’t help but let out a light, breathy moan. It attracts the attention of one of the performers, her former member Eunbi.

Getting her make-up done, Eunbi can’t look at Minju directed by side-eyes her as best she can. Having had enough teasing, you grab your cock with your left hand, and with your right, your lift one of Minju’s legs. You slide your cock along her slit to coat it in her juices before you drive it into her. You’re excited to get started. Minju’s tight cunt felt amazing, and you loved being inside her. You press the head of your cock against Minju’s cunt and push in. You revel in the feeling; her walls immediately press against your head as you push in. The further you go, the more pleasure you both receive. Minju's moans become louder, attracting everyone else's attention in the room. They watch as you begin to thrust, Minju’s breasts bounce as you slam your cock into her. Her moans are a constant stream, especially now that you’re groping her breasts. Her modest chest was perfect for you; her tits fit perfectly in the palm of your hands. Minju rests her head on your shoulder; she was unused to an experienced partner and was going to cum very soon. “Ah, Minju, you’d be such a good mommy. What if I bred you? You’d like that, wouldn’t you? I just felt your pussy get a little tighter.” You teased Minju in this way; it humiliated her that she got off on the idea, too. The idea of breeding Minju turned you on, you wanted to, but you needed to feed all the idols in the room and couldn’t afford to cum in her tonight. Minju’s tightened cunt clamps down on your cock, massaging every part as she struggles to hold on. “If you want me to breed you, cum right now.” Minju’s body reacts on its own, and she cums; her moans fill the room. Minju’s nectar runs down her legs as her hungry cunt tries to milk you.

You near your orgasm and tell the others as such. They hurry to your side. With the crowd of idols blocking the line of sight of the make-up artists and managers, Eunbi kneels before you, plopping her breasts out of her top. Jihyo joins her, pulling down her top to reveal her tanned tits. The other members of Twice act like a shield blocking anyone from seeing. You had intended on stroking yourself until completion, but they offer you their tits in replacement. They press their big tits together. Pulling out of Minju and letting her go, she drops to the ground. Your cock smacks against Jihyo and Eunbi’s tits. They hold them apart, letting your cock slide between them before they start pumping your shaft. Their rub against your cock, one pair along your shaft while they use the other to tease the head of your cock. The softness of their tits makes you moan loudly; the pleasure you get from them is unimaginable. Considering the condition, you thought you’d never get any action from the idols, so this was just the cherry on top. They pump your shaft, each woman trying to hold their moans as they feel your hot cock rub their mounds. “I’m cumming, get ready.” You moan.

A second later, your cum splatters all over their tits, coating them in a thick layer of your seed. A commotion outside gets the staff's attention, and the Twice members help themselves to your cum, licking Jihyo and Eunbi’s tits clean before sharing amongst themselves. Jihyo and Eunbi check themselves before pulling up their tops and thanking you. You return the thanks, saying you appreciate the help. You look over at Minju, kneeling on her side, catching her breath, and having watched all the cum she worked so hard for disappear before her eyes.

Sometime later, it was time to feed some more idols. Minju was in for some more awkwardness as Wonyoung and Yujin would be there to see you fuck her. You had taken a different position with Minju, and when it came time to cum, things were a little different again. Typically idols waited for you to jerk yourself off and spurt your cum into their mouths, but Wonyoung appeared to want to do things differently. She kneeled before you and grabbed your cock, apparently not caring for the rules. She placed the head into her mouth and gently suckled on it, her tongue moving, swirling around the head all the while. You grow weak at the knees. Wonyoung’s innocent face clashed with her lewd action. You desperately wanted to push her head down your cock and press her pretty face against your crotch, but you restrained yourself. She suckles your cock until you cum; she drinks it at first before then letting her mouth fill up. Her cheeks are puffed out as she walks over to Yujin and kisses her; the two share your cum. However, it would be more appropriate to say that Wonyoung gave it all to Yujin, who then went to Yuna to do the same. Yuna held the kiss a bit longer; she got a sense of satisfaction feeling the cum drain into her mouth. The sight made you hard, and you would take it out on Minju once the others had left.

Your next job was going to be a big one. It was to be one of the year-end award shows. There would be multiple idols, and you needed to consider how to handle them. You rest beside Minju, who is sleeping on the couch, tired after going a few rounds. As you look her body up and down, you get an idea. You get up and place her hand on your cock and shiver at the small amount of pleasure you get from her soft hand. Your idea could work; you just needed one thing. You’d have to request it from her company.

The day had come, and you needed to get down to business. Minju was ready for you; she stood with her arm covering her breasts and the hand covering her crotch. You felt no shame in being naked and grabbed her arms, pulling them away from her body. You place her on the table you had her company set up. It was a small, lazy Susan table set at the center of the room; all of the female idols would be able to glance at Minju in whatever state she happened to be in. The table spun around and would make delivery easier. You spread Minju’s legs and placed your cock between her lips. She was getting wet being watched by so many people. You want to be ready before some idol needs your cum and get straight to business. You impale Minju with your cock. Her walls squeeze you tightly, almost shaping themselves to you. It’s a great feeling you can’t enjoy just yet. You start thrusting quickly; Minju’s moans fill the room and bring the attention of many idols to you two. Some of your previous customers, like Eunbi and the Twice members, smile before returning to their conversations, while others become enamored by the sound and sight and step closer to you.

You lean over Minju and pull on her nipple. She whines, the pleasure and pain of it making her mind melt. Minju’s wall tightens around you, and she babbles about cumming soon. You ignore her for the moment and continue pounding away at her body, the sounds of your flesh smacking hers filling the room. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Minju shouts; she grabs your wrist and squeezes them tightly as she cums. Her pussy clamping down on your cock would make your job easier. “I’m going to breed you tonight, Minju. I’m going to fill you tonight.” You whisper into her ear. Minju wraps her legs around you, excited at the prospect; her body, over time, became yours to control.

You slam your hips into the small woman a few more times before burying your cock and filling her womb with your seed. You keep thrusting, trying to pump everything into her pussy. Minju’s back rises off the table with her head tilting back as she climaxes. She looks beautiful in that position, her face of pure bliss as she gets her first creampie. Her eyes are shut, and her lips form an O as her low guttural moan fills the room. Her stomach bulges slightly from your cum. That wouldn’t last too long, however. “We need your cum now!” You hear shouted from the other side of the table. It was the Itzy girls. You get Minju’s legs off you and spin the table, delivering her cum filled cunt to them. You move Minu back until her head hangs off the table and place your cock inside her mouth. Her tongue swirls around your shaft while you watch Yeji be the first to get her serving. She crouches down and leans in, pushing her tongue inside Minju’s cunt and scooping it out. Minju’s legs stiffened and forced Yeji to hold them while she ate your cum. Minju’s moans are muffled by your cock but add another layer to the pleasure as you feel the vibrations in her throat.

You thrust slowly, making sure you stayed hard while staying away from cumming. Once Yeji felt satisfied, Ryujin went next; not wanting to use the same method, she took two fingers and pushed them into Minju before curling them to drag your cum out of her. She fills her mouth and shares with Chaeryeong and Lia. Yuna combined the methods. She crouched down and lapped at Minju’s cunt while teasing her clit. Minju’s moans came more often and louder as the pleasure got to her; she cums on Yuna’s tongue. Gifting Yuna a free drink in addition to your cum. Idols come and go, taking drinks from Minju’s honeypot when it was their time to perform.

When Minju began running low, you got back between her legs, ramming your cock into her womb and filling her again. When the idols returned, some would feel a little more willing to break the rules. It happened to be timed perfectly. There would be a small intermission in the award show; Minju was empty and needed to go to the bathroom. Twice’s Chaeyoung and Ive’s Rei offered to help you. They kneeled before you each woman kissed your cock, the lips never leaving it as they moved along your shaft. You stayed hard, thanks to them. Their dick-sucking lips worked wonders, and they went beyond your cock. Rei cupped your balls before kissing and lapping at them. You felt like you were going to burst at that moment and called for the next performers.

Somi came over quickly. Rei and Chaeyoung moved to the side to allow Somi to take over. She kneeled in front of you and bobbed her head quickly, her lips tightly wrapped around your cock as she pushed it down her throat. You came a moment later, flooding her throat. Somi drank it all quickly; she continued to bob her head after, staining your cock with her lipstick. Only when someone said her performance was in less than a minute did she stop and go over, wiping her mouth as she did.

The night continued like that, with idols offering you part of their body when Minju wasn’t around Chaeryeong offered to let you grope her ass, while Jihyo and Eunbi let your play with their tits. The chaos in the room gave them the freedom to let these acts happen without a chance of management finding out. When Minju was around, you used her body well, filling her cunt with cum and covering the rest of her body. Once the show was over, everyone started to leave, some taking an extra helping of cum. Sana and Somi are the primary culprits. Then, it came down to you and Minju. You don’t know how many times she or you came, but it seems to have broken her.

She was on the table spreading her lips for you, muttering,” We have to feed everyone. I need more cum.” She was a mess with saliva and cum marking her entire body; her face was painted with it too. Still, she begged for more; her legs were spread, bent at the knee as she offered herself up. You couldn’t resist her, your cock got hard, and you positioned yourself. Minju wraps her legs around your waist and pulls you in, driving your cock back inside. Your cum acted as a lubricant, allowing you to slide deep into her without trouble. You crossed Minju’s arms and pulled on them; it caused her tits to be pushed together. This position kept her from moving as you gave her powerful thrusts. Minju’s tongue hung out of her mouth as she moaned and begged for your cum. “Breed me, Breed me!” She yelled with a face filled with ecstasy.

Her walls were tight around your cock as she came again, “Give it to me!” She moaned while grinding against your body. A few more thrusts would do it; you slam your cock against her womb. When you were about to burst, you buried your cock inside Minju, pumping your seed into her womb. Minju came right after, her legs tightened around you, and her toes curled as she felt the warmth of your cum fill her. You felt her pussy milk you, clenched tightly around your shaft. Minju’s legs grow weak after and release you, hanging off the side of the table.

Minju’s actress debut would take a little longer; she would need to learn how to control her urges before she could go out again. That and she would have a little one she needed to hide.

#kpop smut #male reader #m reader #minju smut #izone smut

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ms-demeanor · 1 year

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cosmicpuzzle · 2 years

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7th Ruler and Meeting Spouse

So on request from one of my follower, I decided to make this post. It is not necessary that the house placement of 7th ruler must always indicate the environment or how you meet them.

Sometimes, the house location of Venus or Jupiter can work. Sometimes even the sign placement of Venus or Jupiter can indicate where you meet spouse. So you need to apply this with judgment.

7th Ruler in 1st : In traditional societies, a classic arranged marriage where bride and groom meet in presence of family. Sometimes you may know the person from childhood, like they are your relative or stayed in same house as you did. In western world, this can mean your spouse sees you somewhere and then approaches you for marriage.

7th Ruler in 2nd: This can mean again a marriage arranged by your family. Even in western societies, this can mean your family has selected one particular person already, may be they are your family friend from childhood or your family does business with their parents and they take over etc..may meet them at work too or when you go to bank or shopping.

7th Ruler in 3rd : This can mean marriage through matrimony or newspaper classifieds in traditional societies. In western world, can men through dating apps, all kinds of social media. You may meet them as team mates at office. You travel to a seminar or lecture and meet them there. You may meet at school, college, places of learning or your friends/siblings introduce you to them. They may be friends of friends.

7th Ruler in 4th: This can mean an arranged marriage by family in traditional societies. You may marry a relative too or someone known to your family circle. They may be distantly connected to your family. you may marry someone from your childhood, so someone you went to school with and later you propose them. Similar to 2nd house at times. You may also meet at office.

7th Ruler in 5th: This can mean you meet your spouse at a very young age like 7 to 10 years as 5th house is children. So you may meet them in school, playgrounds or they were your neighbors when you were a kid. Can meet at social parties, places of fun , drama theatres, magic shows, exhibition, political events, theme parks for children, children birthday parties etc.

7th Ruler in 6th: This can mean you meet them at work, you may meet at supermarket, gym, when you visit a doctor, or places where animals are cared for like PETA, medical shops, relief camps, donation places, NGO's etc.

7th Ruler in 7th: This can mean a formal arranged marriage. You may meet at foreign places or at weddings, social events or through your business partners.

7th Ruler in 8th : Nothing specific, you may meet them during emergencies or they come into your life suddenly out of nowhere like friends turning into lovers which you didn't plan for or marrying your friend's spouse after they get divorce..may be when you go to a funeral, you may meet at night clubs, forbidden places or they may be introduced when you get some therapy like they are your psychiatrist friend or your astrologer's friend. An astrologer may even give hints about your spouse. someone who may have had marriage already. You may also meet at places related to money like insurances, taxes, bank loans etc.

7th Ruler in 9th: You may meet them at college, university, when you pursue bachelors or masters. You may meet at religious places like temple or church or when you go to a pilgrimage. Sometimes this can also mean a marriage based on law like court marriage, you may meet at a trial, you may meet when you go abroad or you meet a foreigner online.

7th Ruler in 10th : You may meet them at work, in context of your job, or your boss introduces you to them, I have seen some cases where the person was personal assistant to boss and then they got married later, you may meet through business conferences or at Government offices, may be you need to renew some Govt. document etc.

7th Ruler in 11th: You may meet them over internet, dating apps, matrimony websites, business meetings or through professional colleagues. They may be your friend initially and becomes lover later. You both may have common friends. If you do business, then in context of advertisements, promotion campaigns etc, They may even be a celebrity.

7th Ruler in 12th: You may meet in foreign lands, when you go abroad, in hospitals, airports. I have seen one case, the guy was a travel agent and booked tickets for his client and went to airport to send off his client and met his wife there as she was client's sister. Meeting could be destined or fated in some way.

Book your Spouse Reading now. DM here.

#astrology #astro observations #astrology observation #astrology observations #7th lord in 3rd house #7th lord in 11th house #7th lord #marriage astrology #marriage in astrology #zodiac sign #zodiac #vedic astrology #vedic astro notes #vedic astro observations #astro community

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scary-grace · 2 months

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the new postmodern age (chapter one) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Written for @threadbaresweater's follower milestone event, and the prompt 'a day at the beach'! Congratulations on the milestone, and thanks for giving me a chance to write this fic.

dividers by @enchanthings

Before the war, you were nothing but a common criminal, but in the world that's arisen from the ashes, you got a second chance. Five years after the final battle between the heroes and the League of Villains, you run a coffee shop in a quiet seaside town, and you're devoted to keeping your customers happy. Even customers like Shimura Tenko, who needs a second chance even more than you did -- and who's harboring a secret that could upend everything you've tried to build. Will you let the past drag both of you down? Or will you find a way, against all odds, to a new beginning? (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapters: 1 2 3

Chapter 1

You believe in second chances.

Before the war, you were living on the margins, just like the rest of even the pettiest criminals were. No one would hire someone with a record, even if the record was for something nonviolent, and that meant that you were always hungry, always freezing in the winter and getting heatstroke in the summer, always one step away from doing something worse and getting put away for good. You were going nowhere fast, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get back on your feet. It was a struggle to get up in the morning.

But after the war, something changed. Not a lot, but enough, because after a heartfelt public plea from the hero who saved the day, the world decided to care a little bit about people like you. The government passed new anti-discrimination laws, including one banning hiring discrimination against people with criminal records, and for nonviolent criminals like you, they opened up an extra opportunity – a choice between job training or a startup loan for a small business, so you could pay down your fines and restitution while adding something good to society. Sure, it was all in the name of preventing new villains from being created, but you’ll take it. You took it, picked up a loan, moved out of the city to a small town on the coast, and decided to open up a coffee shop.

You’re not really sure why you picked a coffee shop. Maybe because the town you moved to didn’t have one yet, or maybe because you used to hang out in them a lot when you had nowhere else to go. And the program you’re part of worked exactly like it was supposed to. You had to hire people to help you get the building you chose up to code, and that meant you met people in your new community. You showed those people that the criminals they hated were people, too. You’ve paid most of your fines and you’re able to break even anyway, and even though there’s a sign on the door telling everyone that you’re a convicted felon and you have to answer any questions you’re asked about it, you have customers.

Not just customers – regulars. People whose kids you’ve seen grow up, people who talk to you when they see you out and about. After five years of trying, you’ve finally carved out a place where you belong. So yeah, you believe in second chances. How could you not?

You stand back from your front window, admiring the latest addition. There’s the sign identifying your business as one sponsored by the Nonviolent Criminal Reintegration Act, but just above it, you’ve added a bigger sign: Free Internet Access. Osono, whose bakery makes the pastries you sell, studies it alongside you. “Free access? Shouldn’t it be access with purchase?”

“I thought about it a lot, but no.” You’re sort of lying. You thought about it for two seconds and that was it. “This is better.”

“It’ll attract riff-raff.”

That’s the kind of comment that used to really piss you off, but you know Osono. You know it’s just a blind spot, and you know how to respond. “Most things are online these days. Job applications, apartment listings, information on government assistance. When I was in trouble before, free internet access would have helped me a lot. And I usually bought something anyway, even if it was just a cup of coffee.”

“Not a pastry?” Osono nods at the trays stacked on her cart, and you remember that she’s waiting for you to open the door. Oops. You unlock it in a hurry and prop it open with a rock you pulled up from the beach. “Where were you getting food?”

“Wherever I could.” You were hungry a lot. And sick a lot, because sometimes you had to eat things that were expired. You don’t like to think about that very much. “I stole sometimes so I wouldn’t starve. I’ve paid it all back by now.”

“You know how to take responsibility,” Osono says. She slides back the door on your pastry case without asking and starts loading things in. “I wish more of them were like you.”

“Most of us are,” you say, as gently as you can manage. “We just need a fighting chance.”

Sometimes people forget that you’re a criminal, that you’ll carry your record around for the rest of your life. You can’t let them forget. Osono nods in the way that tells you she’s humoring you and lifts a tray of pastries you haven’t seen before out of the cart. “These are a new recipe I’m trying out. What do you think?”

“They’re pretty,” you say. “Is that chocolate in the filling?”

“And cinnamon. They aren’t vegan, but there aren’t any common allergens in them.” Osono passes you the recipe anyway, and you scribble down the ingredients on the back of the name card you’re making, just in case someone asks. “Tell me how they do, all right? If they sell decently I’ll add them to my rotation.”

“Will do.” You help her with the last few trays. “Thanks, Osono. Say hi to the kids and Naoki for me?”

“Will do.” Osono wheels the cart back out the door, then pauses to study the internet access sign. “Good luck with this.”

“Thanks.”

You wait until the delivery van pulls away before you start rearranging the pastries to your preferred setup. You add “new arrival” to the label for the new pastry, then touch the lettering to turn it a pleasant but eye-catching green before placing it front and center in the case. Then you set up your espresso machine, wake up the cash register, switch on the lights and take down the chairs from the tops of the tables – and only then do you switch on the other sign in your window. It’s seven am. Skyline Coffee and Tea is open for business.

It’s grey and cold, and the low tide is closer to noon today, which means you’re in for a busy morning as the people who walk the beach daily stop in for food and coffee first. Only one person orders one of the new pastries, but almost everyone comments on the free internet access. They say the same kind of thing Osono said, and you say the same thing you said to her if they hold still long enough for you to answer. You say it nicely. It’s an effort to say it nicely, sometimes, but it’s worth doing.

Past noon, things slow down a bit. You decide to speed-clean the espresso machine, and you’re so focused on your work that you don’t notice the customer. It’s possibly also the customer’s fault, since he’s peering at you from over the pickup counter instead of standing by the cash register, and when he barks the question at you, it startles you badly. “What’s the password?”

“On the WiFi?” You tuck your burned hand behind your back. “No password. Find a place to sit down and have at it.”

The customer looks disconcerted. Or at least you think he does – the lower half of his face is covered with a surgical mask, and given that he doesn’t have eyebrows, it’s hard to read his expression. “Why?”

“Why isn’t there a password?” You haven’t gotten that question yet. “I want people to be able to use it if they need it.”

“They’re gonna watch porn.”

“Me putting a password on the WiFi wouldn’t stop that,” you say. “And I’m not the internet police. If somebody starts acting up, I’ll deal with it. If not – just use headphones.”

The customer’s expression twists. “I didn’t mean me.”

“Sure.” You’re not a moron. “It’s not my business what you do. Unless your business starts messing with my business. Seriously. Knock yourself out.”

The customer turns away, and you spend a second being extremely grateful that you went for single-occupancy bathrooms instead of multiple-stall bathrooms before you go back to cleaning the espresso machine. Your hand hurts, but it’s nothing running it under cold water won’t fix later. When you straighten up, there’s someone at the counter.

It’s porn guy, who you really shouldn’t call porn guy. Innocent until proven guilty and all that. You dry your hands and hurry over. “What can I get for you today?”

“Black coffee.”

“Sure. Anything else?”

The customer glances at the pastry case and shakes his head. Then his stomach growls. He knows you heard it. What little of his face is visible above the mask turns red. “No.”

“Tell you what,” you say. “I’ve got these new pastries the bakery wants me to try out, but next to nobody’s tried one yet. If you agree to tell me how it was, you can have it half off.”

“I have money.” The customer shoves a credit card across the counter to you, and you see that he’s wearing fingerless gloves. Or sort of fingerless gloves. They’re missing the first three fingers on each hand. “I don’t need help.”

“No, but you’re helping me out.” You add the pastry to his order and discount it by half, then fish it out of the case with a pair of tongs. “For here or to go?”

“Here.” The customer watches as you set it on a plate. “What is that?”

“It’s babka.”

“I can read. What is it?”

“I don’t really know,” you admit. Maybe that’s why people aren’t buying them. “The filling’s chocolate and cinnamon, though. It’s hard to go wrong with that. It’ll be just a second with the coffee.”

You fill a cup, then point out the cream and sugar. Then you realize you still haven’t tapped the customer’s card. You finish ringing up the order and glance at the cardholder’s name. Shimura Tenko. He hasn’t been in before today. You’re not the best with faces, but you never forget a name.

Shimura Tenko sets up shop at the booth in the farthest corner, and although you sneak by once or twice to check on him, you’re pretty sure he’s not watching porn. People don’t usually take notes when they’re watching porn. It looks like he’s working or something. Working remote, but he doesn’t have internet access at home? Or maybe he does, and he’s just looking for a change of scenery. That’s a normal thing to do. A change of scenery is one thing Skyline Coffee and Tea is equipped to provide.

Speaking of that, it’s been a while since you changed out the mural on the café’s back wall. Your quirk, Color, lets you change the color of any object you touch, and choose how long the color sets. You’ve used it for a lot of things over the years, but now you mainly use it to create new murals every few months or so. The back wall’s been a cityscape since the fall, when you saw a picture of Tokyo’s skyline at night and got inspired. Maybe this weekend you’ll switch it out for something a little softer. If people wanted the city, they’d stay there instead of coming here.

Customers come in and out, a few lingering for conversations or to test out the free WiFi, but Shimura Tenko stays put, somehow making a single cup of black coffee last until you give the fifteen-minute warning that you’re closing up shop. Another person might be pissed about someone hanging out so long without buying anything else, but you’ve been there. You let it go, except to ask him how the babka was as he’s on his way out the door. He throws the answer back over his shoulder without looking your way. “It was fine. Nothing special.”

Fine, sure. When you go back to clear his table, you find the plate it was on wiped clean. There’s not even a smear of the filling left.

“Check this place out!” Your probation officer leans across the counter, eyes bright, out of costume and way too enthusiastic for eight in the morning. “It’s looking great in here. You changed something. New color scheme? New uniform?”

“Nope.” You don’t get nervous for your check-ins, but you don’t like the fact that they’re random. Today’s not a good day. “There’s some new stuff on the menu, and in the pastry case. Maybe that’s it.”

“No,” Present Mic says, drawing out the word. He turns in a slow circle, then whips back around with a grin. “When did you repaint that wall?”

“I didn’t paint it,” you say. It’s best to be honest. “I used my quirk. I’m not making money off of it and it’s not hurting anyone, so it falls within the terms of my probation.”

“Take it easy there, listener. I’m not trying to bust you,” Present Mic says. Heroes always say that. You know better than to buy it. “It looks good. Really brightens the place up.”

“I thought it could use it,” you say. “It’s kind of a rough time of year.”

Cold weather always brings you lots of customers, but people are sharper, unhappier, and if they’re in the mood to take it out on someone, they pick somebody who can’t make a fuss or hit back. Somebody like you. You’ve learned not to take it personally. “Not too rough financially. You’ve made all your payments on time. I checked.” Present Mic is peering into the pastry case. “How’s that free internet access thing going for you?”

“Not so bad,” you say. “The connection’s pretty fast, so I get people in here who are taking online classes, or working remote. I’ve only had to kick one person out for watching porn.”

“Yeah, he filed a complaint,” Present Mic says, and your stomach drops. “You made the right call. Don’t worry.”

You’re going to worry. It’s going to take all day for that one to wear off. “I haven’t had problems with it otherwise.”

“Why’d you do it?” Present Mic gives you a curious look. “Free stuff brings all kinds of people out of the woodwork. Why give yourself the headache?”

“I want this to be the kind of place I needed,” you say. “Somewhere safe where nobody would kick me out if I couldn’t buy more than one cup of coffee, where I could use the internet without getting in trouble for it. A headache’s worth that to me.”

It’s quiet for a second, but Present Mic being Present Mic, it doesn’t last. “You really turned a corner, huh? Hard to believe you were ever on the wrong side of the law.”

“We all could be there,” you say. “It only takes one mistake.”

Present Mic sighs. “You’re telling me. Did you catch the news last week?”

“The thing with Todoroki Touya?” The surviving members of the League of Villains all went through their own rehab, and they’re on permanent probation – and last weekend, Todoroki Touya, formerly known as Dabi, lit somebody’s motorcycle on fire after they followed him for six blocks, harassing him the whole way. “I saw. Is he getting revoked?”

“Nope. The other guy was way out of line, and the panel ruled that the majority of people – former villains or not – would have reacted similarly under that kind of pressure.” Present Mic rolls his shoulders, and his leather jacket squeaks. “All I can say is, he’s lucky we’re in the business of second chances these days. Or fifth chances.”

“Why so many?” you ask. “The rest of us are on three strikes, you’re out.”

“Yeah, but you have to mess up a lot worse for it to count as a strike,” Present Mic points out. “If I had to guess, I’d say it’s a guilt thing. This whole rehab thing is Deku’s idea. And Deku never got over what happened with Shigaraki.”

Members of the League of Villains died leading up to the final battle, but of the five who made it that far, only one of them was dead at the end of the war – Shigaraki Tomura, their leader. To most people, it was good riddance to the greatest evil Japan has ever seen, but Deku’s always been publicly against that viewpoint. Insistent that All For One was the true villain. Regretful that the war ended with Shigaraki’s death, too. “Since he couldn’t save him, he’s stuck on saving the other four,” Present Mic continues. “Which equals infinite chances. So far Todoroki’s the only one who’s needed them.”

You nod. Present Mic stretches. “Let’s take a walk,” he decides. “I’ll buy coffee for both of us.”

“I can’t leave,” you say. “I don’t have anybody else to watch this place. If a customer comes by –”

“Half an hour, tops. Come on.” Present Mic produces a wallet from the inside of his leather jacket. “The sooner we leave, the sooner you can come back.”

You lock up, hating every second of it, and follow Present Mic into the cold, a to-go cup of your own coffee in your hands. Present Mic runs through the usual list of questions, the ones that cover your mindset as much as they cover your progress on your program requirements. Some of them are about how you’re getting along with the civilians in town, and you know he’ll be checking in with some of your customers, seeing if their perception lines up with yours. It feels invasive. Intrusive. Some part of you always pushes back. You always quiet it down. You made this bed for yourself, coming up on a decade ago. Now you have to lie in it.

“I’ve got some news,” Present Mic says, once he’s finished with the questions. “The program’s considering early release for some of the participants.”

“Why?”

“The legislative review’s coming up, and they want success stories,” Present Mic says. “You know, people who clawed their way out of the criminal underworld to become productive members of society. I’m putting your name on the list.”

You almost drop your coffee. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Mic says. He seems taken aback by your surprise. “I mean – you’re kind of who this thing was designed for, listener. You caught your first charge when you were underage, for a nonviolent crime, and the rest of your case is a perfect example of just one of the many problems Deku won’t shush about. Now look at you. You’ve got your own business, you’re paying back your debt to society, you’re participating in civilian life. There are civilians who don’t do that much.”

Of course they don’t. Actual civilians don’t have to prove they have a right to exist. “If you’re approved for early release, the government will waive interest on your startup loan, and I heard a rumor that they’re considering wiping charges off people’s records,” Mic continues. “It’s a pretty good deal, listener. And you’re making a pretty weird face.”

“Sorry,” you say, trying to fix it. “I mean – felonies are a forever thing. They don’t get wiped.”

“It’s just a rumor,” Mic says, and pats your shoulder. “Even if that doesn’t pan out, you could use a break on the interest. Anyway, it’s not a sure thing, but I put your name up. You’ve got as good a shot as anybody.”

You think that’s probably true, which is weird to think about. You’ve been behind the eight ball since you were in high school. Present Mic throws down the rest of his coffee, then turns back the way the two of you came. “Let’s go. I saw a pastry I wanted to buy, and I bet you have a customer or two.”

You’ve heard things about other program participants’ probation officers taking things without paying, but you got lucky with Present Mic – he always pays. Sometimes he even gives you a hard time for setting your prices too low. And he’s right about the customers. When you get back, one of your regulars is sitting cross-legged, leaning back against the locked door with his hood up and his laptop open.

It’s Shimura Tenko, who you never saw before you started offering free internet, and who’s turned into a regular ever since. The two of you don’t talk the way you do with some of your other regulars – something about the mask and the hood and the gloves tells you that Shimura isn’t looking to make friends. But he shows up two or three times a week, orders black coffee, and camps out in the corner of the café until closing time. Sometimes you can talk him into a pastry, and it’s always a babka. Whether he orders one or not, he’s always hungry when he comes in.

Shimura looks up as you and Present Mic approach. His eyes narrow, then widen abruptly, almost comically shocked. Then he slams his laptop shut, rockets to his feet, and books it, vanishing down the street and around the corner. You feel a surge of frustration. “Can you not scare my customers?”

“I’m out of costume. Even when I’m in, nobody’s scared of me.” Present Mic is lying. You’d have been scared out of your mind to run into him back in the day. “Damn, that guy was skittish. What’s his deal?”

“He’s one of my regulars.” Was one of your regulars, probably. People don’t react the way Shimura just did and come back for more. You unlock the door, feeling strangely dispirited. “Which pastry were you thinking about?”

Present Mic sticks around for an hour or so, long enough to talk to a few customers who don’t run away from him. Most of your regulars have seen him before. He leaves a little bit before noon, after eating three pastries he paid for, and as usual, the café quiets down in the afternoon. You don’t mind. Today wasn’t a good day even before Mic put in a surprise appearance and scared off a customer for good. Days like today, you’d rather have the place to yourself.

Sometimes in the midst of proving you’re a model citizen to anybody who looks your way, you forget that there’s a reason you weren’t. It wasn’t a good reason. Your family wasn’t rich, but you always had what you needed and some of what you wanted. Your parents weren’t perfect, but they loved you. You weren’t the most popular kid at school, but you always had someone to talk to. And none of that mattered, because you felt hollow and miserable and lonely no matter what else was going on around you.

Nothing you did or said could make you feel better. Everything felt the same, and everything felt awful, and no matter how hard you tried to explain, to ask for help, to raise the alarm, you couldn’t get your point across. You had a good life. What did you have to complain about?

The judge who handed you your first conviction said pretty much exactly that. You’ve heard that the sentencing guidelines for minors have changed, that untreated mental health issues are considered a mitigating factor these days, but back then it didn’t matter at all. You got help at some point. You take your meds like you’re supposed to, and you did therapy until you realized the people who monitor your probation were reading your notes. And you’re older now. You know the hollow feeling goes away. But that doesn’t mean it’s any easier to tolerate when it’s here.

You’re hanging out behind the counter, staring at your most recent mural and wishing you’d chosen something less cheerful than the field of wildflowers that’s currently decorating it, when the door opens. You barely have time to get your game face on before Shimura Tenko steps up to the counter. “Um –”

“How many heroes are you friends with?” Shimura asks shortly.

“I’m not friends with Present Mic,” you say. “That was a spot check. He’s my probation officer.”

Shimura blinks. He has crimson eyes and dark lashes, matching his dark hair. “Huh?”

“My probation officer,” you repeat. “I’m a convicted felon.”

“Don’t lie. They’d never let a convicted felon run a coffee shop.”

“I got a loan,” you say. “Through the Nonviolent Criminal Rehabilitation Act. It says so on the sign.”

“Your sign says free internet access.”

“Underneath that.” You wonder if it’s really possible that Shimura didn’t see the other sign. Maybe he was just too hyped at the prospect of free internet to look any harder. “How long have you lived here?”

“Five years.” Shimura looks defensive now. “What’s it to you?”

Five years, and you never saw him before today. He must keep to himself. “Nothing. I just – I thought everybody around here knew. I’m not very quiet about it. I’m not allowed to be.”

“Why not?”

You don’t want to do this right now, but rules are rules. “Part of the Reintegration Act involves educating civilians about where criminals come from – like, how a person goes from you to me.”

Shimura snorts. It’s rude, but not anywhere close to the rudest thing someone’s done to you when you talk about this. “The government thinks the people who are best equipped to educate about this are the actual criminals, so I’m legally obligated to answer any questions people ask me – about my record, about why I did it, about the program and why I’m doing that. So they understand what’s happening and why it’s happening. For transparency.”

“And that means anybody can question you, any time,” Shimura says, eyes narrowing.

“Yep. Stop, drop, and educate.” You wait, but he’s quiet, and you’re tired enough and hollow enough that the suspense gets to you first. “You can ask what I did. I have to tell you.”

Shimura nods – but then he doesn’t ask. About that, at least. “It’s dead in here. Did Present Mic clear everybody else out?”

“No. It gets quiet on sunny days when the tide’s low.” You nod through the window, and the sliver of beach visible between the buildings across the street. “I was thinking about closing early.”

“Why?” Shimura’s voice holds the faintest shadow of a sneer. “To walk on the beach?”

To lay facedown on your bed and wait for tears that won’t come, and won’t make you feel any better if they do. “Now you’re here, so I’m open. Do you want the usual?”

Shimura hesitates. Then he shakes his head. “Go home.”

“I’m open,” you repeat. You don’t want him to complain to Present Mic like the actual porn guy did. “Do you want the usual or do you feel like something new?”

“The usual.”

“Come on,” you say. He glares at you over his mask. There’s an old scar over his right eye. “There’s nobody here. Nobody’s going to catch you drinking something that actually tastes good.”

“The usual,” Shimura Tenko says, and crosses his arms over his chest. “And –”

He glances at the pastry case, and you see his expression shift into disappointment. It makes you sadder than it should, but you can fix it easily. You slide the babka you saved on the faint hope that he’d come back out of hiding and into full view. “One of these?”

Shimura stares at it for a full fifteen seconds before he looks up at you. “You saved it for me.”

“Yeah.” You pride yourself on knowing what your regulars like. You don’t want someone you see a few times a week to leave unsatisfied. “One babka and one black coffee, coming up.”

Shimura holds out his card, then hesitates. You’ve never seen him look uncertain at all. “And whatever you think tastes better than black coffee. One of those.”

“Really?” You can’t hide your surprise, or what an unexpected lift it is for your mood. “You won’t regret it. Which flavors do you like?”

“I don’t care.” Shimura waits while you swipe his card, then tucks it away. “This was your idea. I’m going – over there.”

He gestures at the back corner. “I know where you like to sit,” you say. “I’ll bring it out.”

As soon as he leaves, you get to work. You need to nail this. He’ll laugh at you if you bring him a tea latte, so it needs to have an espresso base. What goes well with babka? You already have chocolate and cinnamon on board – what about caramel, or hazelnut? Does he even like sweet things? He must, if he keeps ordering the damn babka. Maybe hazelnut, but what if he’s allergic? You pitch your voice to carry and see him startle. “Do you have any allergies?”

“Not to food.”

You wonder what he’s actually allergic to as you start pulling espresso shots for a chocolate hazelnut mocha. You really hope Shimura likes Nutella, because that’s exactly what this is going to taste like. Using bittersweet chocolate syrup instead of milk chocolate fixes it partway, but when you pour off a tiny bit to try it, it still tastes a lot like something you’d eat out of a jar with a spoon.

Whatever. You’re committed now. You don’t have a choice. You pour it into a cup, make some vague gesture at foam art, and carry it and the black coffee through the empty café to Shimura’s table. “One black coffee and one drink that actually tastes good.”

Shimura eyes the second cup. “What’s in there?”

“You said you didn’t care.”

“Yeah, well, now that I know you’ve done time I’m not sure I can trust you,” Shimura says, and you lock your expression down. That one hurt. A lot. He drags the cup towards himself with his right hand and lifts it to his mouth as he pulls down his mask with his left, but you’ve lost interest in the outcome. You turn and head back to the counter, trying not to feel like someone’s slapped you in the face and convincing yourself at least a little that it works.

You screw around behind the counter, taking inventory and counting down the minutes until last call, but Shimura’s back at the counter with forty-five minutes to go, an empty cup in his hand. It’s not the cup you put the black coffee in. “Fine. You win. I want another one of these.”

“Yep.” You set your clipboard aside and head back to the cash register to ring him up. “For here or to go?”

“Here.”

“I’m closing soon. To-go’s probably better.”

“Are you kicking me out?” Shimura asks. You look up at him, make eye contact, and whatever he sees in your face sets him off. Not in the way you thought it would. “Before, about the doing time thing. You know I was kidding, right?”

“Sure you were. Do you want a receipt?”

“Hey,” Shimura snaps. “It was a joke.”

“Not a good one.”

“Yeah, it was. If you –” Shimura breaks off, his scowl clear even from behind the mask. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I wouldn’t have said that if I didn’t get it.”

“Get it,” you repeat. “You’ve done time?”

“Yeah.” Shimura Tenko covers the back of his neck with one hand. “No charges, but – yeah, I did time. So it’s funny.”

“It’s still not funny.” You lift the empty cup out of Shimura’s hands and turn to start making a second Nutella-esque mocha, trying to decide if you feel better or not. “It’s just not mean.”

A shadow falls across you as you work. Shimura’s following you along the edge of the counter. “So am I getting kicked out or what?”

“Yes,” you say. “In forty-five minutes, when I close.”

Shimura’s eyes crinkle ever so slightly at the corners. You wonder what his smile looks like under that mask, but you’ve got espresso shots to pull, and you need to focus if you don’t want to burn your hand. You look away, and when you look back again, he’s at his table, laptop open, mask on, chin propped in his gloved hand. No charges, but he’s done time. You didn’t expect that. Even though you’ve spent the last five years of your life trying to prove that you’re no different than anybody else, it still catches you by surprise to learn that one of your customers is like you.

You bring the second drink by his table, then start working through your closing checklist. He stands up with five minutes to go, just like clockwork. He leaves without another word, as usual, but when you step outside, he’s still standing there. “You didn’t ask why.”

Why he did time? “Neither did you,” you say.

“Yeah, but I won’t break probation if I don’t answer.”

“It’s the principle of the thing,” you say. It’s not quite dark, but the sun’s almost down, and the shadows are growing long. Late March already, but it feels like you’ve got a long way to go before spring. “If I want people who meet me to look at the person I am now, I have to do the same thing for them.”

Shimura Tenko makes a sound, half-laughter and half-scoffing. “They sure did a number on you,” he says. You turn and walk away, and his footsteps follow yours. “Hey. Come on. There’s no way you’re that sensitive.”

“I’m not,” you say. “I’m just having a bad day.”

A bad day, and you never get a day off. Even if the café’s not open, you’re still in sunshine mode every second, making sure that the people who want to treat you like a criminal look absolutely insane for doing it. You fought hard for this life. You’re glad you fought for it. And today more than usual, you’re just really tired. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Yeah,” Shimura says. You’re glad he doesn’t try to apologize again. You know it would be painfully insincere. “How did you know?”

“Hmm?”

“The pastry. How did you know I’d come back?”

“I didn’t,” you say. “I just hoped you would.”

You don’t know why you hoped. Maybe because he’d clearly been waiting a while when you and Present Mic got back. Maybe because you remember how much it mattered to have somewhere else to go, whether you had a place of your own or not. Maybe because you’ve gotten sort of a sense of him over the past few months, and you know he’s the kind of person who pretends not to want the things he wants. Wanting the coffee shop he hangs out in to be open and to have his favorite pastry available is such a reasonable thing to want. You were hoping he’d come back so you could give it to him.

Shimura doesn’t say anything. You keep walking, and he doesn’t follow you. When you glance back over your shoulder as you round the corner, you see him standing just outside of Skyline Coffee and Tea, staring intently at something. You can’t say for sure. But you’re pretty sure it’s the sign that explains about the NCRA.

A while back, you read that some countries set aside two days to commemorate a war. One day to celebrate that it ended, another to mourn that it happened at all. When it comes to the war you lived through, Japan does things differently. There’s just one day, a national holiday, where every government office closes and most businesses do, too. For most people, it’s a day to celebrate. There are carnivals, street fairs, concerts, parties. It’s been a holiday for exactly four years and a whole host of traditions have already sprung up around it.

But there’s one person who never celebrates, and it didn’t take you long to come around to his way of thinking. On April 4th, the fifth annual Day of Peace, you close the café early and make the trek to Kamino Ward.

You’re not sure how Kamino Ward became the place. Maybe because the final battlefield’s been overtaken by celebrations, and at least some people still see Kamino as hallowed ground. The place where the Symbol of Peace made his last stand. The place where the Symbol of Fear passed the torch onto his successor. You get there a little while before sunset, and you join the hundreds of people who’ve already gathered there. The crowd looks smaller than it did last year, and it hasn’t grown much by the time Midoriya Izuku, known to the world as Deku, climbs onto the steps leading up to the All Might statue’s plinth.

Someone hands him a microphone, which he takes with hands that tremble ever so slightly. He’s only twenty-one, and he looks old before his time. “I’m here,” he starts, then swallows hard. “I’m here because we didn’t win. Not really. If you’re here instead of at a party somewhere, I think it’s probably because you lost something. Something, or someone, who was important to you. Something you can’t get back.”

It’s quiet. It’s always quiet after he says something like that. “I’d like to think we did something. That we changed for the better,” Deku continues, “but I think we can only say that if we don’t forget what we had to lose for it to happen. So, um – you know the drill. If you brought a candle, great. If you didn’t, we have some. You can say the thing you lost if you want – we have a microphone – but when you’re done, light the candle and put it down somewhere that feels right to you.”

He takes a deep breath, lets it go. “And then you can go. But I’ll stay until they all burn out.”

People swarmed the first two years. This year they form a line, stepping up to light their candles one by one. You never know what to say when it’s your turn, because it’s not something specific you miss. The way things used to be was awful. You don’t miss that, and you weren’t close enough to anybody to lose someone who mattered in the war. But April 4th has never felt like a happy day. It feels wrong to you to be setting off fireworks and throwing parties in response to a war that almost destroyed the world.

A lot of people say names when it’s their turn to light a candle. Some say places. Some share an ideal they lost, a hero they venerated who fell from their pedestal, a dream they had that will never come true. Each lost thing named is met with respectful silence. But just like last year and the year before, there are three names that aren’t, no matter who says them. “Big Sis Magne. Bubaigawara Jin,” says Toga Himiko as she lights her candle. Say Todoroki Touya and Sako Atsuhiro and Iguchi Shuichi, who still answers to Spinner, as they light theirs. “Shigaraki Tomura.”

There’s always whispering after their names, especially Shigaraki’s. But Deku always goes last, and Deku always shuts them up. He lights his candle and grasps the microphone, speaking clearly, firmly. “Shigaraki Tomura.”

You remember what Present Mic said, about how Deku never got over failing to save Shigaraki. Deku was sixteen when he won the war. Still a kid. Was saving Shigaraki really his job? Maybe that’s the point of all this. It was everyone’s job to stop villains like Shigaraki from being created, and you all failed, so it fell to Deku – and he failed, too. It’s one big, sad, ugly mess. When you’re honest with yourself, you’re not surprised that most people try to cover it up with fireworks.

People begin to filter out of the memorial park, and you find a place to sit down. It’s not like you have somewhere else to go. The others who say settle in as well, in small groups amidst the rows and clusters of candles. You’re within earshot of one of the groups. Without meaning to, you find yourself listening in.

“They’d have hated this,” Todoroki Touya is saying, his voice low and bitter. “Every second of it.”

“Big Sis Magne wouldn’t have. And Twice would have liked it,” Toga Himiko says. Her voice is soft. “All the candles. He’d say it’s like his birthday.”

“Yeah. Sure.” Todoroki Touya’s voice goes even quieter. “Do any of us know when his birthday was?”

It’s quiet. “Shigaraki would hate this,” Todoroki states. “You know he would. What did he tell you to tell Spinner, Deku?”

Deku doesn’t answer. Spinner does. “Shigaraki Tomura fought to destroy until the very end.”

“Yeah,” Todoroki says. “To destroy. And Deku made him a martyr.”

“He destroyed a lot of things,” Deku says quietly. “All For One is gone. One For All, too – there’s never going to be another Symbol of Peace. He destroyed the way we saw villains. We don’t just get to look at what they’re doing right now. We have to think about how they got there. And he destroyed how we saw ourselves.”

“Yeah?” Spinner says. “How?”

“We didn’t think we were responsible for other people,” Deku says. “Now we have to be.”

It’s quiet again. This time it’s quiet for a while. “Whatever,” Todoroki says. “I’m going home. See you all at the next sobfest.”

“He always says that,” Spinner says, once his footsteps have faded. “He’s gonna get tanked at home and text us just like he did last year.”

“I miss Tomura-kun,” Toga says, her voice softer than before. “I thought we’d all be together at the end.”

“I know,” Deku says. “I’m sorry.”

“And you’re sure –” Spinner breaks off. “You’re sure you couldn’t get his ashes or something? So we could –”

“There was nothing left of Shigaraki,” Deku says. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” Spinner says. Toga sniffles. “We know.”

The group splits, Toga in one direction, Spinner in the other. A moment later, Deku walks past you, and you do everything you can to fade into the background short of turning yourself camo-colored. It doesn’t work. “Did you hear all that?” Deku asks. You nod. He sighs, or sniffles, maybe. He looks younger up close. “You were here last year, right?”

“And the year before,” you say. The longer you look at him, the worse shape he’s in. “Um, are you okay?”

“It’s just –” Deku’s eyes well up, suddenly. “It’s hard. I can’t say what I want to say to them.”

“Why not?” you ask stupidly, and he shakes his head. “Um – do you want to sit down?”

You wouldn’t ask another hero that, but you feel like it’s worth the risk. Even though he’s twenty-one, you can’t look at him and see anything other than a kid, and it feels wrong to let a kid stand there and cry. Deku sits down next to you. “I know I’m not supposed to ask,” he starts, his voice watery, “but you never say anything when it’s your turn. Most people don’t come here. Even the ones who lost somebody would rather be at a party somewhere. Why do you come back?”

You have to think about it for a second. Deku cringes. “Sorry. You don’t have to answer.”

“I sort of do.” It might hit your probation requirements, and even if it doesn’t, you should explain anyway. “What you said earlier, in your speech – I’m one of the people the world got better for. My life would have been awful if it had stayed the same. But in order for me to have this life, we had to have the war.”

“What did you do during the war? Were you in a shelter?”

You shake your head. “The shelters banned people with criminal records,” you say. Deku’s eyes widen. “Nowhere would let me in.”

It wasn’t all that different from the way you were living before – not much food, not very safe. The only difference was a sharp increase in the number of abandoned buildings for you to crash in. But it looks like you’re making Deku feel worse, not better, and you scramble into part two of your explanation. “I’m one of the NCRA participants. That program only exists because of the war – and you, because you won’t let people forget why the war happened. So I want to remember why the war happened, too. And I want to honor it. Them.”

“Him,” Deku corrects, and your stomach clenches. “I wonder what he thinks of all of this. If it’s enough. If it’ll ever be enough. I mean, obviously it’ll never be enough for him, because he doesn’t – I mean, I can’t ask him, but I know he can see it. I don’t know where he is, but if I could just ask him –”

You didn’t realize Deku believed this strongly in the afterlife. You sit quietly, and after a few seconds, he remembers you’re there. He glances at you, embarrassed. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say. “Do you not get to talk about it very much?”

“No,” Deku admits. “People want to move on. And I don’t really blame them. But I can’t. Not until I know for sure.”

It’s quiet for a little bit. He wipes his eyes. You watch the candles flicker down a few millimeters more. “You’re in the NCRA,” Deku says finally. “For job training, or did you get a loan?”

“I got a loan,” you say. “I run a coffee shop now. With free WiFi.”

“Do people like it?”

“I think so,” you say. You think of the kids who come to study, the people who use the WiFi for remote work, the old people who walk the beach every morning and stop by for coffee and pastry afterwards. “I have regulars, anyway. And people talk to me now. They never used to.”

“People talk to me now, too,” Deku says. “It’s nice.”

“Yeah,” you agree. “It is.”

It is, but it’s not quite what you meant, and you don’t want to interrupt when Deku starts talking about the NCRA. It’s not just that people talk to you. They talked to you before, but now they see you – not as a criminal, but as a person like them, minus the squeaky-clean record. That’s new, and that’s good. You know even less about Shigaraki Tomura than Deku does, but even if he’d hate what’s happened to the world he wanted to destroy, you’re thankful anyway. The world is better now. It’s better because of Deku, and Deku’s the way he is because of Shigaraki.

There are fireworks going off over the bay, distant enough that you can’t hear the sound. Closer than that, you hear music and laughter from a street party you passed on your way here from the train station. Deku trails off after a while, and you don’t speak up again. The two of you sit in silence until the last of the candles burns away.

You get home late, and it’s an early morning opening up the café. Luckily for you, everybody else is also running late courtesy of the holiday yesterday. Osono comes by fifteen minutes off-schedule and full of apologies, and while you’ve got your doors open by seven, it’s not until seven-fifty-eight that your first customers come through the door. It’s a double shot of espresso kind of day, and while you’re pulling them, your customers tell you about the parties they went to last night. When they ask what you did, you tell them you went into the city. It’s not a lie.

After the slow start, the shop stays quieter than usual, quiet enough that when Shimura Tenko rolls up just past noon, there’s still plenty of babka left in the pastry case. You start his order before he’s even opened the door – one black coffee, one Nutella-flavored nightmare – and he stops to drop off his stuff at his usual table before he comes up to the counter. You can tell he’s disquieted by something. “Did Present Mic come by and scare everybody off again? How are you going to keep this place open if no one’s here?”

“Mornings are a lot busier than afternoons,” you say. “And spring’s my quietest season, anyway. No tourists like there are in the summer, and it’s not very cold.”

“Yeah.” Shimura glances around, still displeased. “This place had better stay open.”

“It will,” you say. “One shot of espresso or two?”

“Three.”

“Three? It’s your funeral,” you say, but you pull the extra shot. “Late night last night?”

“I went to a party,” Shimura says. You nod. “It was my birthday.”

“Happy birthday.” You cancel half his order. You give people a free drink on their birthday, if you know it and they come in. “Your birthday is April 4th? That’s a tough draw, especially the last few years.”

“You’re telling me.” Instead of retreating to his table like usual, Shimura hovers at the bar. “What about you? Did you go to a party?”

You shake your head. “I went into the city.”

“Which city?”

“Yokohama,” you admit. Shimura’s eyes narrow. “I go to the vigil at Kamino. I have every year they’ve done it.”

“Really,” Shimura says, skeptical. “Why?”

Deku asked you the same question. You have a feeling Shimura won’t like the answer, but it’s the only one you have. “My life is better than it was before the war, because of what happened in the war. I want to be thankful for that. It doesn’t feel right to me to go to a carnival.”

Shimura doesn’t say anything, just watches you. It makes you feel weird. “If I’d known it was your birthday, though, I’d have gone to a party for that. It was your birthday way before it was the Day of Peace.” You’re babbling, and Shimura still hasn’t said a word. “Not that you’d invite me to your birthday party or anything.”

“I didn’t know you’d want to go,” Shimura says slowly. The espresso machine beeps, and you focus on it way harder than you’d do under ordinary circumstances. “Look, I – it wasn’t my party. Just a party. It’s not like I went in a fucking birthday hat.”

“That would look pretty weird with your hood still up,” you say. Shimura makes an odd sound. You look up and see the corners of his eyes crinkling again. “Still, though. I’ll remember for next year. I’ll get a cupcake or something. Even if you don’t want somebody who’s done time at your birthday party.”

Shimura laughs at that. Actually laughs. Your chest constricts, filling with warmth in a way that feels out of proportion to the situation at hand. “I only want people who’ve done time at my birthday party,” he says. “Don’t try to give me that drink for free. You letting this place go under would be a shitty birthday present.”

“Too late. It’s already free and I’m not rerunning the sale.” You pour the black coffee and set it down on the pickup counter, followed by the godawful Nutella drink. “Happy birthday plus one.”

Shimura rolls his eyes, but they’re still crinkled slightly at the corners. He doesn’t respond until he’s already halfway back to the table, and he’s so quiet that you have to strain your ears to hear. “Thanks.”

You should say something. Something like “you’re welcome”, or “any time”. Something that sounds like good customer service, instead of what you’re worried will come out of your mouth if you open it right now. The conversation is over. Nothing else needs to be said. You turn to face your small workspace, searching for a distraction. There has to be something you can clean.

It’s been so long since you had a crush that you barely remember what it’s like, but you’re pretty sure you have a crush on Shimura. As far as crushes go, he’s kind of a weird pick – because he’s a customer, because he’s not the friendliest, because he hasn’t given any indication that he likes you at all. He likes babka and free internet and the horrible off-menu mocha you make just for him. That’s it.

It feels weird to have a crush. Weird in how normal of a thing it is to do, when you’ve been so focused on looking normal and pretending to be normal that you haven’t done anything actually normal in a while. But maybe this is a good thing, and maybe it’s okay. You might get released early from your NCRA requirements, and even if you don’t, you’re doing well. You can afford to like somebody again.

The café stays quiet, and with two hours left before closing time, you’re getting bored. Bored, and you haven’t switched out the mural since before your last check-in with Present Mic. Now’s an okay time for that. You scribble a sign to prop up on the counter – I’m here, just yell – and head towards the back wall. You have to pass Shimura to get there, and as you do, he looks up. “I’m not looking,” you say. “I’ll just be over here.”

“Doing what?”

“A new mural,” you say. “Pretend I’m not here.”

Shimura decides to start right away, and you flex your fingers more out of habit than anything else. Then you set your hand on the wall and activate your quirk, changing the entire wall from the wildflower mural back to the same blank neutral as the others. That’s a good start. Now you just need to figure out what you’re going to do with it.

Actual muralists sketch and line their work. They work from references and they draft the design before they actually start painting. You know that because you used to want to be a muralist yourself. You could sketch and line things, but these days you’re more about feelings than anything else, and feelings take color. You block the wall into a few sections – you remember to do that, at least – and fill in general colors, running your fingers along the edges to blur them together. Grey base and sides. Dark-colored middle. The entire upper half of the wall is light. It’s not until you’ve added the half-circle above the horizon that you get a real understanding of what you’re making.

It's another cityscape, or the ruins of one, something you saw in photos or maybe in person. It looks a lot like the sunrise view from Kamino Ward, the sky on fire with deep purple and orange and pink and gold, the reflection of those colors splashed across the sea, the wreckage of the city bathed in morning light. You’ve done enough therapy to psychoanalyze yourself, and it’s not hard to see what you were going for with this. Things are horrible. Things were horrible for a long time before today, but the sun is still rising, and the sunrise is still beautiful. And it’s a lot easier to see now, with all the other stuff out of the way.

“That’s not paint.”

You weren’t expecting Shimura to say anything, and you weren’t expecting him to pay attention to what you’re doing. But when you look back over your shoulder, you see him staring, his phone set aside, the lid of his laptop shut. “It’s not paint,” you say. “Just my quirk.”

“How does it work?” Shimura asks. You turn back to your mural, and you hear him get to his feet. A moment later he’s standing beside you, answering his own question. “You can change the color of things you touch. And decide how long it stays that way.”

“Yeah.” After using it your whole life, you’re pretty good at it. You can fine-tune stuff, enough to add shading to the buildings and the rubble at the sides and bottom of the mural without compromising the light from the sunrise. “Not a very powerful quirk.”

“You could still cause trouble,” Shimura says. You could. And you did. “This is how you got your charges, isn’t it? Stuff like this.”

“Graffiti? Yeah,” you say. You remember the rush you got the first time you tagged something, the first time you spilled your thoughts and feelings in a way no one could ignore. “Except when you do that, you get charged with trespassing and vandalism, and when they figure out they can’t remove it, you get charged with destruction of property. Throw in malicious unlicensed quirk usage and – boom. Felonies.”

“That’s stupid.”

“Me or them?”

“Giving somebody a felony for painting stuff on walls.” Shimura studies what you’ve done so far. “All of these have been yours, right? Is this the same stuff you were painting before?”

“Not always,” you say. This conversation falls under your NCRA obligations, but it doesn’t feel like it’s the reason Shimura’s asking – and it’s not the reason you’re telling him. “When I first got into it, it was just words or sentences. Stuff I couldn’t figure out how to say out loud. The first time I really got busted, it was for tagging the side of my parents’ house.”

“Your parents called the cops on you?”

“And pressed charges,” you say. He’s staring at you again. You pretend you don’t notice and fuss over the shoreline in the mural. “I got better at it when I was older. The art got better, anyway. But I got in more trouble because of where I put it. And I guess what was in it.”

“Anything I’d have seen?”

“I don’t know. Where did you hang around?” you ask. You got booked in most of the big cities in Japan during your criminal career. “Uh, I did the UA barrier. The one with the – you know.”

“The human shields?” Shimura bursts out laughing. “Did you have a sibling in Eraserhead’s class or something?”

“No, I just thought it was stupid to do the Sports Festival a week after what happened,” you say. Shimura snickers. “It felt like they were using the kids as props to distract from how much of a mistake they’d made, and I was mad about a lot of other stuff, too, and – yeah. I kind of went off.”

You really went off. There’s no other way to describe triggering the UA barrier on purpose at two am so you could make a crude mural of All Might, Endeavor, Hawks, and Best Jeanist hiding behind a bunch of kids in school uniforms. Shimura is still snickering. “Damn. I’m surprised they call you nonviolent with how bad you hurt their feelings.”

“They had to replace the whole barrier,” you say, and Shimura wheezes. “I’m not trying to be funny.”

“No, but it is funny.” Shimura glances at you over the edge of his mask. “And now you run a coffee shop and make things like this.”

He looks away from you, back to the mural. “Is this something real? It looks familiar,” he says. Before you can answer, his eyes widen, and he says it himself. “Kamino Ward. Why would you paint it like that?”

“It’s how I see it in my head. Or how I feel it. I don’t really know.” You reach out and use the tip of your index finger to highlight one of the buildings that’s still standing in sunrise gold. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know.” Shimura reaches out and touches it with one gloved hand. “People are going to be pissed at you.”

“If they recognize it.” You’re not too worried. “Most people just look at the colors.”

“I recognized it.”

“You’re not most people.”

You instantly wish you hadn’t said a word. Shimura Tenko glances at you quickly, then looks back to the mural. “Yeah,” he says. “I was there.”

Your stomach drops. “You were?” you repeat hopelessly, and he nods without looking your way. “I’m sorry. It’s – insensitive. I’ll take it down –”

“No.” Shimura catches your wrist before you can make contact with the mural. “Leave it. I was gone for this part. It’s a nice view. The horizon, I mean.”

That’s your favorite part, and you’re not even done with it yet. “I still have some stuff to add,” you say. Shimura nods but doesn’t let go of your wrist. You pull at it slightly. “I need this back.”

“Fuck. Sorry.” Shimura recoils like you’ve burned him, then backs away. Way too far away. You’d say he was making fun of you, except you can see his eyes over the mask, and they’re expressive in spite of his complete lack of eyebrows. “Sorry. I don’t usually – touch people.”

“It’s okay.” Your wrist feels tingly where his hand made contact, and there are butterflies in your stomach. He doesn’t usually touch people, but he touched you. “Thanks for stopping me.”

Shimura turns away completely. “I have to work.”

“Yeah. I didn’t mean to distract you.”

“I know.” Shimura slides back into his booth. You turn back to put the finishing touches on your mural.

He’s right about it. In the hour left before you close, at least one customer who trickles in gives you a hard time for putting up something so upsetting. You listen to his concerns, but you stick to your guns, and when he sits down to wait for his order, you see him watching it. Just like Shimura is, the screen of his laptop long since gone dark.

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #tenko shimura x reader #shimura tenko x reader #shigaraki tomura #shimura tenko #x reader #reader insert #coffee shop rehab fic #man door hand hook car door #a bisquared production

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onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 7 months

Text

And darlin', you had turned my bed into a sacred oasis

Part of my Birthday Bash!

Request: "i'm in my bed, you're in your bed. one of us is in the wrong place." with Roy x teacher!Reader

Roy Kent x Teacher!Reader

2.4k words (a bit longer than intended, hope that's alright 😝)

Warnings: Language, takes place in the Teach Me Tonight universe (future established relationship), fingering, unprotected sex, Roy has kind of an innocence kink I guess, dirty talk

Late Sunday night, you sighed as you pulled your oversized t-shirt over your head. Roy had been gone all weekend at an away game and, if you were being very honest with yourself, you really missed him. The two of you had only been seeing each other for a short time, but you were already falling hard and fast for the man, even harder and faster than your initial crush on him had formed. And spending a whole weekend- your only true relaxation time- apart had you falling into a bit of a funk. You’d done your best to keep busy with grading things, with folding that laundry you’d been avoiding, with reading the book Roy had loaned you, and of course you tuned in to the Greyhounds match. But fuck, you missed Roy Kent.

As if the brooding coach could read your mind, his name lit up the mobile that was charging on your nightstand. Forgetting about the online tips that said to let a guy wait for a few rings before answering his calls, you snatched the phone off the charger and quickly answered.

“Hi, Roy!”

“Hey yourself, gorgeous,” he hummed, his gruff voice sending a blush to your cheeks. “Finally fucking home.”

You laid down, grinning from ear to ear. “Yeah, I didn’t think you’d call tonight,” you admitted. “Kind of figured when you got home, you’d just collapse into bed and knock out.”

“Well, I did that first part,” he chuckled. “But I wanted to hear your voice. Fucking missed you.”

The sweet words coming out of that famously foul mouth had butterflies forming in your tummy, the way they always did when you thought about Roy. “I missed you too,” you admitted quietly. “I caught the match, by the way. The guys did amazing! Good job, Coach.”

“Thanks.” There was something thick in his voice, something not quite right.

Immediately concerned, you sat up a little, brows furrowed. “Everything alright, Roy?”

He paused for a moment. “I just… have something of a problem.”

“Anything I can help with?” you offered. Helping Roy was kind of fun, you had discovered: ideas for outings with Phoebe, classroom management tips that transferred onto the pitch, reorganizing his garage, anything that resulted in time with Roy and a kiss of gratitude.

“Well, you see-” The something thick in his voice was suddenly identifiable: desire. “-I’m in my bed, you're in your bed. One of us is in the wrong fucking place."

Heat rose in your cheeks, down your chest and tummy, and settled somewhere deep. “O-oh really?”

Roy had this… habit of making you feel more turned on than any man you’d ever met. From the first time you found yourself in bed with him- sooner than you usually went to bed with a man, but this was Roy after all- he knew exactly how to make you blush and giggle and squirm and fall apart and about a million other little things, cute and dirty alike. The best part was how obvious it was that he enjoyed the reactions he got out of you.

“Yeah.” You could practically hear his smirk through the phone. “I know it’s a Sunday night and you’ve got work tomorrow but…”

“You can come over!” If it was any other guy, you’d be embarrassed by how quickly you invited him into your home and into your bed. But again, it was Roy. Roy Kent, who thought you were the cutest, sweetest, sexiest thing in the world, wanted to see you late at night. There was no universe where you’d deny that request.

“I’ll be there in ten, babe.” And with that, he hung up.

Once you heard the click of the disconnected call, you sprung up out of bed. Thankfully, you’d already groomed, in anticipation of seeing Roy after work tomorrow. But your oversized t-shirt from a girls’ trip to Bath didn’t quite feel sexy enough for your ex-footballer boyfriend. Trying to control your anticipatory blushing, you tiptoed over to your bureau and quickly rifled through it until you pulled out the little nightie you remembered Roy losing his mind over a couple weeks ago. Honestly, you didn’t think it was that sexy- a light blue number that was see-through and form-fitting in all the right places, but nothing you thought of as special. But when Roy took in the sight of you, the adorable teacher with the jean jackets and white sneakers and sweet smiles, wearing something so revealing while inviting him to climb into bed, he had all but ripped the nightie off of you.

You were hoping for the same kind of reaction tonight.

After changing, you did a quick job of prepping for Roy’s arrival- brushing teeth, setting the lights low, double checking that your sheets were presentable. You were just tucking away the last of your folded laundry when your mobile lit up with a text from Roy: Here.

Not caring about looking overenthusiastic, you practically sprinted to the front door. When you jerked it open, there was Roy, in those black workout pants you liked so much, leaning on the doorframe with that casual confidence only a professional athlete could pull off. He gazed at you brazenly, the way an animal looks at its prey. Dark, full of hunger and desire.

Honestly, you could probably orgasm just from that look alone.

Before you could even squeak out a hello, Roy had his arms around you, using his foot to kick your door closed as he pressed you against a wall. In an instant, his mouth was on yours, his tongue begging your lips to part for him. With a deep sigh into his mouth, you deepened the kiss, every part of you fluttering at the taste of Roy Kent.

“Fucking missed you,” he finally mumbled against your lips. His hands began to wander, tugging and fisting at the thin blue material and grabbing at every inch of skin he could find. “Missed you so fucking much.”

“I missed you too,” you gasped as he began to trail kisses down your jaw. “Should we… we…” The feeling of his tongue gliding over your neck had you unable to finish the question.

But Roy knew what you meant; he loved making you, the intelligent, eloquent, well-read teacher with the master’s degree, go all weak and forget how to talk. It was something he tried to do as often as possible.

With a dark chuckle, Roy lifted you and threw you over his shoulder with ease; funny how he seemed to forget about being a self-proclaimed ‘old man’ the moment things got steamy. He carried you to your room, grinning at every giggle that flew out of your mouth. Fuck, he loved that sound. He loved every sound he heard you make: shy giggles when he flirted with you, rants about your work, sighs when you were stressed, soft moans in bed, all of it.

He especially loved the squeal you let out when he dropped you on the bed. You gazed up at him with those wide eyes, the same ones from the day you met, the eyes that made him weak, and offered that sweet smile. What a contrast to the filthy thoughts your boyfriend had been pondering the entire bus ride home. He hovered over you, taking in your wriggling form and contemplating what he wanted first: your lips against his again? Your tits that looked fucking heavenly in this nightie? That gorgeous pussy that he just knew was soaking for him already? Or did he want to let his inner caveman out and just take you already?

“Roy.”

Your little whine got him out of his own head in an instant. He crashed his mouth against yours roughly and let his hands flitter down your body, down your hips, until his fingers found that little damp spot on your panties. He groaned into your mouth and began massaging your pussylips through the material at a gentle pace. In turn, you gasped and bucked your hips up to meet his touch, gripping his biceps tightly.

His pace quickened with every twitch of your body. He brought his lips to your ear, kissing and licking the sensitive skin behind it. When moans started tumbling from your lips, he chuckled. “D’we like that, beautiful?”

“Uh-huh,” you managed in a trembling voice as you began grinding against his hand. “So much, Roy.”

His voice was sinfully dark as he purred, “D’you want something else?”

Suddenly acutely aware of the way his hardness pressed against your body, you immediately reached out to his shirt and helped him tug it over his head. The shirt hadn’t even hit the floor before your hands were on his pants, pulling them and his boxers down in one swift motion. Roy groaned when his erection sprang free and he saw the awed look on your face; at this point, you had seen him naked many, many times, but each time saw you gazing at his cock like it was magic, with your eyes wider than usual and your lips parted in a tiny O as a tiny gasp slipped past them. To be fair, you thought his cock was magic, something you’d shyly admitted to Roy after the first time he fucked you through multiple orgasms. He wondered how many he’d get from you tonight.

“Does someone like what she sees?” he teased, tugging down your panties and refusing to take his eyes off your face.

In response, you simply spread your legs for him, your typically bright eyes dark with desire and never leaving his cock. Spurred on by the obvious effect he had on you, Roy aligned himself with your entrance and groaned your name as he began sinking into you. The familiar burn had your back arching up to him, your hips lifting off the bed to meet the pleasure he provided you. He inched into your soaking cunt, deeper, deeper, not stopping until he hit that sweet little spot that had you mewling his name.

“Fuck,” he hissed as he began thrusting, hitting that spot over and over. “You feel too good. So wet for me. Gonna make me finish way too fast.”

You giggled at his dirty praise and buried your face in his shoulder. “You-you feel good too,” you gasped as you rocked up into him. “Never feels this good alone,” you whined.

His movements stilled. “Alone?” he echoed. Even with your face pressed against his skin, you knew he was smirking. “Does my pretty girl touch herself?”

Roy knew full well that you did. Hell, he even had a dirty phone call with you during another recent away weekend. But he loved hearing his sweet little girlfriend say dirty things.

“Yeah,” you breathed as your walls gripped him. “I did last night,” you admitted, knowing he could feel your blush against his skin. “A-after your match.” A low moan escaped your lips as he slowly resumed thrusting into you. “You-you looked so fucking good coaching, babe. So fucking sexy.”

He twitched inside you at the sound of your swearing. You knew how to swear, you weren’t that innocent, but every time you did, Roy thought he was going to explode. Especially when you swore in this context. There was just something so damn dirty and sexy about it.

“And you couldn’t resist touching yourself?” he cooed, a teasing tint to his voice. Rather than make you feel embarrassed, like most men’s teasing would, Roy’s teasing always spurred you on, encouraging you to keep going, keep turning him on.

“Couldn’t resist,” you repeated, your voice all soft and breathy as you threw your head against your pillow, letting Roy see your flushed face. “Just-just laid on the couch and-” A sob escaped when Roy reached down to gently massage your clit. “Yeah, that.”

Roy’s eyes darkened as he watched you, your own eyes beginning to twist closed at the pleasure he provided you. “Just like that?” He gave a small amount of pressure to the bud, grinning at the way your hips stuttered in response. “And did my girl moan my name?”

You nodded as your mouth began to slack. “Yeah,” you breathed. “Fucking moaned your name when I- fuck- when I finished.”

He gave a deep roll of his hips, stuffing you with his cock. “And how’d that sound?” he begged, his own voice beginning to weaken as your cunt clenched around him. “Bet it sounded fucking gorgeous. Lemme hear it.”

“Roy,” you panted, losing any sense of rhythm as your hips snapped against his. “Oh, fuck, Roy.”

“You got something for me?” he purred as he began pressing sloppy kisses to your collar. “Something nice and wet for me, babe?”

You lost your ability to speak, other than a string of yes and fuck and Roy. All you could think about was the way Roy was fucking you, hard enough that you feared you would break and perfectly enough that you didn’t care if you did. He played with your clit like it was his personal toy, rubbing and flicking it just right each time and adding to the pleasure you could feel in your fingertips and toes. His own breath began to quiver, letting you know that he, too, was close to being undone. But you knew he’d hold back until he’d given you pure bliss.

Wanting nothing more than to feel Roy fill you up, you began thrusting, pushing up against him so hard you knew you’d have bruises in the morning. He knew by your frenzied movements and ragged moans that you were close, so fucking close. So he quickened his fingers on your clit, becoming harsh and mean in his attempt to see you fall apart.

With one more great thrust into you, his name tumbled out of your mouth in an animalistic moan. Your legs wrapped around him, keeping him inside you as your pussy pulsated and tightened around his cock, squeezing and begging for him to finish. He fucked you harder, faster, through your piercing orgasm, determined to stuff his pretty girl full of everything he had.

“Fuck,” he growled as he spilled into you, fucking his cum deep inside your soaking cunt. He didn’t stop, not until he knew every last drop would stay inside your thirsty cunt.

His face dropped onto the pillow beside you as he finally stilled, his cheeks red and his breathing ragged. He tilted his face towards you with an exhausted smile, his eyes filled with affection and what was left of his lust.

“Did I mention I fucking missed you?” he whispered.

“Yeah,” you breathed, kissing the tip of his nose. “You might’ve mentioned it.”

#tally's birthday bash #request ❤️#he's here he's there he's every fucking where #roy kent #roy kent x reader #roy kent fanfic #roy kent fic #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent imagine #ted lasso #ted lasso fic #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction

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shinsmarlboro · 2 months

Text

Baji with a lover, who is a successful entrepreneur.

TAGS: SFW && gender neutral y/n.

when accompanying you to an event, baji definitely hypes you up, give you a standing ovation, and trust that he lets people know that he is your number one fan.

keisuke believes in you more than your own family, but that won't blind him or stop him from speaking his mind and telling you the truth when it is necessary. you appreciate the fact that he tells you what you need to hear, unlike some of your subordinates who are professional bootlickers.

you two almost had an argument about you paying for his tuition.

“nah babe, ‘s fine. what's a couple more student loans gonna cost?”

“keisuke please, you're already drowning in debt. let me at least pay half.”

you two are a stubborn couple, going at it until one of you gets tired; spoiler alert, it's him, not you.

at takehina's wedding, you get introduced to baji's friends, one of them being kokonoi and you two instantly hit it off with talking about future joint ventures and all that crap that keisuke does not want to bother understanding.

chifuyu deeply respects you. when you two first meet, he goes on about how he didn't think baji would find someone, especially as a veterinary student.

“it's nice that he's dating someone that's kinda the opposite of him. please take good care of him, i know he's rash at times but he means well.”

you find chifuyu to be a sweetheart knowing his intentions towards baji are pure, except for when he starts rambling about embarrassing moments that happened to baji back in his adolescent days as a way to keep the conversation going.

keisuke makes sure to leave messages here and there in between late night study sessions, knowing that you would be working around the same time he's online.

he would send you pictures of the strays he had gotten from the cat distribution system and ask you if he can keep it even though he doesn't live with you.

speaking of living arrangements, it is a bit complicated. he is always welcome in your penthouse and has a spare key for whenever he wants to crash at your place (something you secretly look forward to) but, his visits are moderate, unless he's tipsy and neither chifuyu nor kazutora are fit to take care of him, or he wants your accompaniment.

one time you took a risk that caused you to lose a multi-million contract. naturally, you were upset and distanced yourself from everything. baji, the ever-loving perceptive partner, noticed this and tried different silly ways to get your attention. you find it amusing that he is willing to make a fool out of himself just to get you to smile.

whenever you feel stressed, keisuke always offers to take you out on late night rides to clear your head at the beach.

you're not used to your status, so when you get overwhelmed keisuke holds you close and comforts you by stroking your hair.

“this is so pathetic. i’m sorry, it's just…hard.”

“shhh, it may hard but there isn't anything my woman can't do. you got this, okay?”

he doesn't mind getting groceries for you when he knows that you're too busy to shop for the house. he does it without telling you and even surprises you with a home cooked lunch that he gives his secretary to deliver to you as he's shy to do so himself.

did i mention that his mom absolutely adores you? your discipline and charisma are what amazes her. you have lunch dates with her every month and make sure to clear out your schedule just for her; you also enjoy flipping through baby albums with her and getting a glimpse of a younger version of keisuke.

keisuke loves it when you wear glasses, if he did something that aggravates you while you're working extra at home, he simply stares at you. with a blank expression, he admires the way the glasses frame your mesmerising face. you think he's not listening, and you get even more frustrated with him. but when he caresses your cheek and calls you beautiful, you are visibly stunned and you don't know what to do; you end up acting like him back when he had more of a tsuntsun character; now he always wants to tease you - catch you off guard with his blatant flirtation.

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boxboxlewis · 1 year

Text

“Hello! Welcome to Self(help), and please do shout if I can be of assistance,” George says, and of course the words are rote but hopefully he also sounds warm and welcoming or whatever. He’s sitting behind the till, doing some online shopping, not really focussed on the customer who’s just come in.

“Do you really only sell self-help books?” the customer asks, and—that voice is familiar. George looks up and nearly falls off his stool, because that face is familiar too: there in his shop, real and breathing and somehow taller than George had expected, is Alex Albon. He’s got giant sunglasses on, and a trendy little scarf around his neck, but as a disguise it’s hardly adequate; Alex is probably one of the most recognisable people in the world, especially since his Oscar win last year. George tries to casually push the hair back off his forehead, and is so distracted he almost slaps himself in the face.

“Er,” he says. What was Alex’s question? Oh right, self-help books. “Yes, is the short answer,” he says, and then for reasons known only to his frontal lobe keeps talking. “I had a really hard time getting a loan to start the business, because the banks were all like ‘Do people even buy self-help books anymore now that there’s Google,’ but we’re doing really well now, actually. It helped a lot when Brené Brown gave us a shoutout on Instagram, but even before that—er—sorry, you don’t care about any of this, do you. Well. If you need any help—or any self!—just let me know!”

Alex is just staring at him. George does a tight little sorry-I-fucked-up-socially smile, and turns his attention back to the chinos on his computer monitor, heart racing.

Lando emerges from the back of the shop. “George, if I do any more work I’ll literally die,” he says earnestly. Or maybe sarcastically; George doesn’t really understand Gen Z humour, probably because he refuses to join TikTok. “I shelved, like, an entire box of books, so I’m just going to honour myself now and take some time to self-care. I’m going out for a coffee if you want anything.” He notices Alex standing in the middle of the shop floor and flashes him an artificial smile. “Welcome to Self(help), if you take a picture for socials remember to hashtag us!”

“Flat white,” George says automatically. Lando nods and leaves the shop. He really hadn’t clocked Alex at all, which is surprising at first, until George considers how monumentally self-absorbed Lando is at all times.

“Is that your employee,” Alex asks.

“Yes,” George says, “I did something wrong in a past life, it’s very—do you like candles?”

“Candles,” says Alex Albon, who is still very much in George’s shop.

“We’ve got a lovely selection,” George explains.

Alex pauses thoughtfully. “No,” he says, and then, after a long-ish pause, “thanks.”

George nods.

Alex says, “Look, I only came in here to get away from some teenagers who were taking pictures of me.”

“Oh, yeah, right,” George says, as if that’s a very universal experience that he naturally has shared.

“So I’m just going to—” Alex gestures towards the door, and the road.

“Yes,” George says. “Of course. It was lovely to—er. Encounter you.”

Alex’s mouth quirks up. He says, “It was lovely to encounter you, too.” And then he walks back into the outside world.

George is still dazed about the whole thing when he goes out a few minutes later to get himself a flat white, Lando having arrived back in the shop bearing only a drink for himself (“Oh, shit, I forgot you wanted something… I’d offer to go back out but my legs are really sore now, so…”). He’s not really looking where he’s walking, so it’s jarring but not surprising when he knocks into someone and spills his newly-acquired coffee down their chest. It’s surprising but somehow inevitable when he realises that someone is Alex Albon.

“You again. I’ve got to say, this encounter is less lovely,” Alex says, mopping irritatedly at his sopping t-shirt with his tiny scarf. George joins in, patting with his bare palm at Alex’s chest as if that’s going to help at all, then pulling his hand back like he’s been burned when Alex raises his sunglasses up so he can level George with a look.

“I—sorry! God, right, I swear I’m usually less of a mess”—this is untrue—“but I actually—if you want to get changed, into, you know, a non-drenched shirt, I actually live just over the street—”

Alex exhales, and slides his sunglasses back onto the face. “I’m fine, thanks. I’ll just… go on my coffee-covered way.”

“You can’t,” George says, “think of the headlines—‘Alex Albon in caffeine frenzy’—‘he didn’t realise you’re meant to drink it, sources say’—my house really is so close. We can get you all cleaned up in no time.”

Alex considers him for a long moment. “Give it to me in metres,” he says. And that’s how the rest of George’s life begins.

for @onadarklingplain, who suggested that notting hill au george would own a bookshop that only sold self-help.. nothing has ever been truer!! kay thank you for reading this over & for talking about galex with me 💓

#notting hill au #galex #my fic #gr63 #aa23 #in this au alex's terrible actor bf is christian horner

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aothotties · 1 year

Text

Hello! I’m Ari and I’m 1/2 of Aothotties. We’re two black women that like to write about our favorite anime men. This blog is 18+ so that means that if you’re younger than 18 you need to move along please and thank you. Anyways please enjoy the first piece of writing, it’s based off of ‘The Way’ by Kehlani

Warnings: NSFW, Established relationship, Reader is like 24+, a lil bit of overstimulation, Nanami being a bit of a tease.

Word Count: 1K

~~~~~~~~~

You so damn important

Everything you do shows me you know it

To Nanami you’re everything he could ever want and more. He doesn’t know how he got so lucky to have you in his life.

He loves the cute text messages from you reminding him to drink water, his favorite time of the day is when you call him on your way to work.

“It’s going to be a long shift so I’ll try and call you during my lunch break” you tell your boyfriend, making sure you focus on the road at all times.

“I could always come and have lunch with you in the café.” He offers and your heart melts at the thought.

“I’d take you up on that, but my break isn’t going to be until midnight, and that’s if I’m lucky. The hospital is busy around the holidays” you sigh as you pull into the parking lot and pull into your usual spot.

“That sound means you’re at work doesn’t it? I’ll let you go so you can get yourself together, call me if you need anything. I love you.”

You swear you feel your heart flutter each and every time he says those words.

“I love you too! Oh and I stopped by your house and left you some dinner. I made too much food and I know how you like to skip meals when you get busy. I hope you enjoy it, have a good night!” You end the call and get ready for work.

If you didn’t tell him how much he meant to you, you always made sure you showed it somehow.

He say the king where he come from

Take a young queen just to know one

To Nanami, money was never an issue and he always made sure to let you know that. Anything you wanted was yours, without hesitation. You needed help with student loans? Done. Your car needs gas? Already taken care of by the time you’re on your way home in the morning. He almost tried to buy you a car, but you turned him down.

Nanami would buy you the world if you wanted him too, he’s a hard working man who busted his ass for years to get to where he is today. His journey to becoming the CEO of his company was anything but easy, but it’s truly rewarding if it means he gets to spoil the love of his life.

“Those are nice.” you say to yourself as you scroll on your phone, taking a closer look at the ad that caught your attention.

“And that is?” Your boyfriend asked, handing you the wine glass you asked him to pour you after dinner.

“Oh it’s nothing, just these cute scrubs I saw while scrolling online. They’re the jogger kind and come in different colors.” You showed him a photo of the set and he took the phone from your hand and began to type.

“Baby what are you doing?” you lean over to see what he’s doing on your phone and he gently holds you back with one arm

“Just a second, be patient sweet girl” he says, one arm wrapped around your waist and the other hand typing on your phone quickly.

“Here, all done.” He hands you the phone and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead before standing up and walking towards the kitchen.

When you opened your phone up, you were met with a confirmation screen for the scrubs he just bought you.

“They’ll be delivered to your apartment tomorrow afternoon, I got you different colors, since you like to wear solid colors some days and then have those little cartoon characters on them other days.” You watch as he leans against the kitchen counter and you feel like you’re falling in love all over again.

We gon' wake your neighbors

Turn your block club to my fan club

“N-Nanami!” you moan out into the pillow below as he thrust into you from behind.

“Yeah princess? Cat got your tongue?” He grabs your hair in his fist and pulls you up so that your back is flush against his chest

You grip his thigh as he continuously pounds into your cunt like a mad man, his thrust not letting up as he keeps hitting your sweet spot.

“I-I’m so close baby, so f-fucking close.” You whimper loudly, biting your lip at the feeling of him pulling your head back farther onto his shoulder.

He leans his head down and presses his lips against yours, you could tell he was getting close by the way his hips begin to speed up. He wraps one of his large hands around your throat, giving it a light squeeze.

You began bouncing back on his dick quickly to try and reach your climax, Nanami forces your legs open with his free arm and begins rubbing your clit to help you reach your high.

You scream out loud as your cunt tightens around his dick and you reach your climax. You back continues to arch and you whine from the overstimulation of him continuing his thrust.

“N-Nanami s’too much. I-I can’t!” You whine loudly as he continues to bounce you up and down on his dick quickly.

“You can take it princess, go ahead and give me one more. I know you can baby.” He whispers in your ear, he grabs your jaw and turns your face up to look at him while he fucks into you.

You squeeze your eyes shut from the pleasure and he harshly presses his lips against yours giving you a sloppy kiss, he groans and bites your lip as he emptied himself inside of you.

He sighs against your lips before he pulls back and presses his forehead against yours, slowly trying to regain control of his breathing after the activities that just took place.

“Thank you for the scrubs” You say weakly as you begin to fall asleep in his arms, he smiles at how tired you instantly become and plants a kiss to your forehead.

“Anything for you sweet girl.”

#jjk #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x black reader #jjk nanami #nanami smut #nanami kento #nanami x reader

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danieyells · 5 months

Text

How Much Is An SSR Worth?

Summary: Ren gets Taiga's help. SFW.

----

The Sinostra students looked up at the approaching stranger. Their looks were clearly unfriendly, untrustworthy, and some of them even reached in their blazers as if for weapons(were they allowed to walk around campus armed!?) Ren froze and grit his teeth, looking at the little group of gangsters and at the blood red mop of hair of their leader who didn't even turn around to acknowledge him. He was starting to regret thinking this could work--there was no way this was worth it.

Before he could start to back away, the Captain of the Sinsotra house tipped his head further back, directing a pair of bright yellow eyes at him from where they'd been staring emptily into the ceiling. Ren froze. The slow blink he received reminded him of a cat video he'd seen online, albeit significantly less cute and even less likely to be a sign of affection.

". . .who're you?"

Ren briefly felt like he'd been transported into a mafia movie. It was the gravel in his voice, or maybe the cold look in his eyes.

He floundered for a bit, trying to come up with a way to bring up why he came over that didn't sound ludicrous to a normie. Just looking at this guy, he wouldn't know a thing about what he was talking about or needed--but he knew he might be his only hope right now. Maybe Taiga caught on to that hopelessness, or maybe he was amused by the fumbling, because his dull expression became a curious and interested one.

"Oh. Ain't you one of Harry's kids?" Harry? Did Haru know this guy!? Somehow that made it worse. Taiga spun around in his seat to look at Ren properly, his excited expression showing off his shark-like teeth. Those might be cool, if not for that he followed this question up with, "you here to bring me my lunch?"

"Your lunch?"

"Yeah. One of my guys promised me he'd get me something to eat." Taiga gave a sideways nod to the Sinostra students who were sitting with him. "And Harry's place is full of all that fresh meat, ain't it? You ain't here to deliver anything for me?"

"Fresh--" He wanted to eat the anomalies? Was anybody in this place normal? "N-no, I'm not here to bring you anything!"

"Oh." Taiga deflated and pouted. "So, who the fuck are you then? You got a debt to pay? Lulu doesn't like me doing business outside the casino without him around, but I can still handle that."

This was definitely starting to feel like Ren was in over his head.

"I just. I heard some things."

"Oooh." Taiga, once again, thinks he's got it and smiles. "You need a loan? You want some illicit goods? You want somebody to turn up in Tokyo Bay?"

"What!? No!! Are you seriously saying all that shit in broad daylight!?"

"Maybe I'm not serious about it at all!" Taiga laughed, seeming amused by Ren's increasing discomfort.

"I don't need things from Sinostra! I heard some things about you! I need something from you!"

Taiga was quiet for a moment, head tilted and eyes wide like he wasn't expecting personal business. Then he pouted again, looking off to the side. "Is Lulu trying to. . .nah, he wouldn't do that. Not without tellin' me. . .selling someone's organs would be a lot more lucrative than whoring me out anyway." He muttered to himself for a moment, while Ren fished his phone out of his pocket and thrust it towards him.

He immediately jumped back as the Sinostra students drew weapons to point at him. Taiga held up a hand to stop them from gunning someone down in the cafeteria and stared dully into the screen.

". . .the fuck is this?"

"I don't have a lot of resources and I don't have a lot of time--and I heard your luck is incredible, and I just need you to press this button here."

Ren pointed at a confirmation button on the screen, careful not to tap it. Taiga stared at it as if it weren't two sentences worth of text and it was taking a long time to read.

He reached forward and tapped the screen, then snatched Ren's wrist when he tried to pull away and protest being taken out of it. A few colorful characters appeared from behind the darkened screen of the confirmation popup. The link advertising rates immediately caught Taiga's eye, and he tapped at the screen, scrolling through the numbers with increasing interest.

The rates for the most artful of characters were insanely low, and a quick tap of the gems in the top of the screen said they cost a pretty penny. He idly committed the prices and numbers to memory(where they were lost as soon as he moved away from the screen) to calculate the value of.

"What're you doing!? I just--you just have to do the pull! You don't need to look at anything else!"

"This is gambling!" Taiga said cheerfully. "Some real shit odds at that! What, you're going for that one? It looks kinda like you, kid!"

He pointed at a character near the top of the rate screen. "No, I pulled that one already, somehow. . .it's the topmost one I'm after. Everybody says it's completely overpowered and all of the new meta's based on this unit, not to mention the art--"

Taiga nodded along, the gacha having had drawn some of his interest as a gambler. Way less fun than a game with anything of interest on the line, but it still seemed interesting. Not the characters or units or anything of that sort, but the act of pulling for things of value. . .he supposed it was named after gachapon machines. But the virtual nature of it meant less limited potential. . .so the artificial scarcity was formed by limited time features like this.

Quite the business tactic. Romeo might like it.

"So you just need me to press this button here, yeah?" Taiga navigated back to the gacha as though he'd been playing the game since release. He was almost invested now. "And you want me to get you this thing or whatever."

"Yes!! If you can!!" Taiga sneered and popped open the confirmation menu.

"Kid, I don't lose bets--"

Once again guns were pointed at Ren as he grabbed Taiga's finger before he could do the pull. Not appreciating the contact, Taiga smacked his hand away, and he winced at the feeling of his rings colliding with his palm.

"You--" he swallowed, trying to ignore the threats. The look on Taiga's face almost made him want to call it quits again. This was already way more effort than it was worth. . .to a normal person, anyway, but this pull could be the true beginning or the end of his playing this game. "You need to hold down on the screen, after you press the button. It doesn't seem like it does anything, but I swear I've gotten better pulls that way--"

"I don't need your superstitions, brat."

With that, Taiga tapped the button without even looking at the screen, glaring uncomfortably into Ren's face. At first, he was frozen, before the audio cue prompted him to spin the phone screen to face himself. "Wait, you did a single pull!? You were supposed to do a ten, the rate is higher that way!"

"Don't need it."

"But if I don't get it that's a waste of my--!!!"

Ren's jaw dropped as the screen flashed a multitude of colors. The gacha music faded out, and a new track began to play, a popular voice actress' recorded line playing accompanying the subtitled dialogue being spelt out across the screen. His eyes went wide as the SSR's unique animation played, and he watched on as his desperately desired pull came through on a single, effortless shot from a stranger.

"Holy shit you got it." Taiga grinned, looking over Ren's shoulder at the new unit, completely unaware of what it meant. At most, the art was kind of nice. Ren looked like he was holding in tears--or maybe a scream. "You actually. . .in a single pull!?"

"Gyahahaha! Told you I don't lose, kid!" He threw an overly friendly arm around Ren's shoulders. Ren looked at Taiga like he was a hero. Of course he did, until Taiga said, "hey. . .you ever heard the expression 'there's no such thing as a free lunch?'"

For a moment, Ren remembered all of the things Taiga mentioned before. Debts. Deaths. Illicit substances. His face fell, and Taiga gave him a squeeze and a friendly shake and a smile that was more sinister than sincere. For a moment, Ren wondered if he'd gotten himself into something he couldn't get out of. Did this single gacha pull just pull him into a life of crime? Was he about to be some sort of drug runner for the local organized crime house? Did he need to kill somebody? Could he kill somebody?

". . .What do I owe you?" It was just a gacha pull! Why did he go to the guys who look like the mob for a gacha pull!? What a stupid idea, just because he overheard that the captain of Sinostra had some unbelievable luck. The triumphant music playing from his phone and the animated character on the screen offered him no comfort and Taiga bore his sharp teeth in a grin.

"I'm glad you asked! Lulu throws a little bitchfit whenever I do somebody a favor without a price, even if it's a personal favor and not a Sinostra one." He leaned his cheek against Ren, tapping painted nails against his chest. "And I'd guess you'd ordinarily need to do a lot more than just one pull to get what you wanted, yeah? Maybe ten, maybe even a hundred?"

Ren nodded stiffly. The rates for this game were abysmal. But it was addictive.

"So the value. . .it's way more than just one, isn't it." He couldn't remember the numbers he'd seen earlier exactly, but he could do some calculations in his head. If he bothered to. But he knew enough people with gambling addictions to know how Ren's mind worked. This service was nigh invaluable to him. "And I saved you money. That's practically worth interest."

"W-wait a second!" Ren pulled away--or, perhaps Taiga let Ren pull away. "This didn't cost you anything but a few seconds, maybe a couple minutes! The gems you spent on the pull, they weren't even 1,000 yen in total! I could pay you that out of pocket and--"

"Y'know what? You're right. It didn't cost me a thing, what'm I even saying!" He laughed and smiled in a friendly way. Ren didn't trust the sudden change in attitude in the slightest. He'd let his guard down. But it couldn't stay down. "Hell, it was even kinda fun. All the flashy lights and pretty sounds--and you got your little drawing out of it, right? Not to mention, you're one of Harry's kids, aren't'cha!"

"Eugh. I am not his. . . ." Ren stopped himself, then grit his teeth. This could save him. Haru could be of use for once. "Y-yeah, I uh. . .he's a great. . .father. . .? Anyway, if you had fun and I got what I wanted, then we're even, right?"

"Sure, sure!" Taiga clapped Ren on the shoulder. "Hey, you got more of those things you want? It was pretty fun, I wouldn't mind helping you out again if you ever want more!"

This appealed too heavily to Ren's sensitivities for him to stay on guard like he wanted. ". . .really? If you don't get results, I'm not asking you again."

"Yeah, really! I'm waiting on my lunch anyway, what else've you got?"

". . .and I don't have to pay?"

"Nah, no cash. No crazy favors. Don't even worry about it."

That specific wording should have tipped him off that he wasn't entirely off scott free, but the idea of more free SSRs in his account catalogue enticed him too much. Taiga looked at his phone screen and tapped through to the gacha again.

". . .well. . .the unit gets stronger if you manage to pull it a second time--or, up to five times. So we could try pulling for it again. And there's another unit I wanted to get--oh, and in a different game--"

Taiga went along with Ren's increasing excitement, tapping away at the screen. Ten-pulls glimmered with high rarity units and supports even as games were switched. A few times Ren even asked Taiga to perform actions in the game for him, cheering quietly when he got him through difficult story missions that had been keeping him stuck in place for weeks.

All the while, Taiga insisted there was no charge.

But he didn't say anything about no debt.

And he may have said that Ren didn't have to pay, but that didn't mean he wouldn't extract value from him in other ways. In a few weeks Ren would be staring into the pen for some anomalous animal, wondering how he would get it all the way to Sinsotra without arousing suspicion, and trying not to think of the way he saw Taiga eat raw meat and bone that day, complaining to the student who'd brought it for him that it wasn't fresh enough but it'd do.

He refused to blame himself for all of this though. It's not his fault the guy with improbable luck was a mafia boss. It's not his fault the mafia boss was an underhanded carnivore. And it sure as hell wasn't his fault he was assigned to the house full of animals!

And it wasn't his fault that the gacha rates were so low he went this route either. It's capitalism's fault! It's the fault of companies preying on gambling addictions! He's not to blame for this! He refused to be!

#Tokyo debunker #taiga hoshibami #ren shiranami #danie yells at tokyo debunker #danie yells writing #huh. i didn't mean to make a whole fic out of that thought.#also ren is out of character i'm sure i didn't properly review his character before writing this it all just kind of came out #i just think it'd be funny if ren went to taiga for gacha pulls because he's always got such good luck #think of the ssrs!!!!#i haven't written a fic in. . .a while lol #also i hope i didn't write ren with a w at some point. that's a different guy.

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