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Jul 26, 2025

Out Like A Light

Sometimes the line between man and monster is blurred. You're saved from one by the other, but it's not what you might expect. Sometimes indifference is benevolence. Your savior wasn't being kind, your tormentors just violated his boundaries. But now you're in his home, and you're stuck there. He's not so distant as he seems though, is he?

Many thanks to @shigarakislaughter for beta-reading.

CW: Monsterfucking. THE SMUT'S HERE YA'LL.

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MDNI MDNI MDNI

Return

You spend the next year training as a miko. You sell what's left of your car, get a ride to the nearest train station — in the same town as the hospital — and go back to Niigata for a weekend, just to handle your belongings. You've gotten used to not having much, so a lot of it is sold, and the rest is divided by sentiment, use, and whether the two overlap. The things you don't want to lose but can't bring with you are packed away and left with one of your few relatives. What's left is mostly books, practical clothes, and your computer, the last thing being a matter of continuing your programming on the side, but there are a few trinkets. A Nintendo DS, a few pieces of jewelry, and two stuffed toys — a Venomoth from your childhood, and a Snom from much more recently. All of that is packed up into a large suitcase, a backpack, and a pair of cardboard boxes, then taken back to your new home.

You get to know the people in town in between learning how to run the shrine and learning its history. There are centuries of records, and you can't read the originals of the oldest ones. You mean that literally, you can't even look at them, they're so fragile. But you can read the copies that are made regularly, both as backups and as compensation for linguistic drift. Part of your training is making your own copy, in fact, so you get a lot of practice in calligraphy. You ask the kannushi about a digital copy, and she hums and agrees as long as you don't mean photographs. You order some archival quality CDs and start typing.

You also start writing up your own experience over the last winter, which turns out to be the longest single continuous interaction with the shrine's god in all its written history.

Over the winter, when it's too treacherous for an old woman to climb the path, you bundle up and go to the honden to make the offerings for her, and perform the New Years rites as she taught you alone.

A full twelve months after your service at the shrine began, the kannushi declares you ready for initiation. You undergo ritual purification and dress in the shrine's traditional variant of a miko's ceremonial outfit, the familiar greenish-white of raw silk for the kosode, an especially dark red hakama, a chihaya shawl with four points to the cut — the back drape more rounded than the front — and a large red circle on each corner, and kanzashi hairpins with silk fringing silver in a familiar feathery shape. You're given no makeup, not really, but a drop of honey-based ointment is applied to your lower lip and you're warned not to lick it off.

There are no offerings prepared, those will be presented elsewhere. Then the kannushi hands you a decorated lantern, unlit, and leads you toward the honden. Halfway there, she stops and turns off the path, or at least off the main path, since it seems there's a much smaller one leading down into the valley. It's not easy in the traditional shoes, but the path is worn just well enough to manage, and you make it all the way to the Shinboku without falling or dropping your lantern.

The kannushi brushes away the growth and dirt on a single paving stone set at the roots of the tree, and you kneel on it, settling into wait while she retreats. You'll sit here overnight, at the mountain god's tree, lighting the lantern at sunset, and meditating on why you chose this path.

For you, that means remembering the months of last winter. The way he healed your injuries, the way he took care of you while you were ill. The way he went from not caring about or for your method of preparing venison to insisting you make it your way for him too. The way he listened to you read, interrupting to ask questions because he didn't understand, and the way he insisted you pace the story so you wouldn't hurt your throat again. The way he went through the graphic novels after you read them but never asked you to tell him those stories too…

"You came back," he rasps.

You open your eyes and look up. His face is lit from below by the flickering lantern, and his eyes flash with nightshine in the shadow of his cheekbones. He looks… beautiful, you think. You always thought that, but in a distant sort of way. But you've missed him, and the first sight of him hits hard.

"Yes. I work at the shrine now. The red house."

"Why are you here now?"

"I finished my training. This is my initiation."

"No," he snaps, and you recoil slightly. Does he not— "Why are you here now? I told you to be gone before full spring. It's full spring!"

And then it hits you.

The symbolism of this whole event, dressing in his colors and his materials, waiting in the heart of his territory, on his doorstep. A traditional miko's initiation seals her relationship with a kami. It's a metaphorical wedding.

You're a bride, and you knew it when you agreed to this. That doesn't mean you were expecting him to answer.

In the records, the miko of his shrine traditionally present themselves in the summer, when the nights are warmer, or in the fall. In the records, he almost never attends the event, preferring to ignore it and claim the offerings at the honden. And when he does come to see the bride, he takes their lantern and leaves without speaking.

But he spoke to you. And it's spring.

The way he got further and further away as the weather got warmer, the way he looked through those manga — explicit manga — after you read them but never where you could see… He only says he's a god because humans granted him that title by transitive property. He's old, maybe immortal, but he might not be divine the way humans think of it, and he's definitely not ethereal. He has needs.

And it's spring.

"I know," you say softly.

"Then why—!"

"That is why. Do you remember what I told you about human families?"

He steps back, but his antenna reach harder toward you. "Which part?"

"The part that's like Sam and Rosie. Like Aragorn and Arwen. The human girls that come here at night, dressed like this, that's why. It's symbolic, an offering like the food at the shrine. You don't have to take it. I know you never took the fish when it was cooked."

"It was ruined," he complains, sounding almost defensive.

"I tried those recipes, I didn't like it much either. You don't have to take the offering. But it's yours if you want it." You lift the lantern, then get to your feet. "I'm yours if you want me."

He stares at you for a minute, antenna quivering and wings twitching like they're trying to unfold away from him. Then his eyes blaze, and he snatches the lantern out of your hands.

Your heart sinks. He doesn't want—

He sets the lantern back down on the stone and reaches for you. "Close your eyes," he hisses.

You can't disobey.

Arm-shaped iron bands wrap around your shoulders and under your knees, and your feet leave the ground, requiring you to clench your toes to avoid losing your sandals. If your head wasn't tucked against a hard surface, something fluffy brushing across your forehead, you might get whiplash at how fast you're suddenly moving, and there's a hollow booming sound every other second or so.

Your sense of time is blurred, it might be only a couple of minutes or several long ones later, when your feet touch the ground again, and he tells you to open your eyes. You do, and you find yourself surrounded by familiar stone. You've never seen this chamber before, and you have a feeling that it's behind the cloth curtains he told you not to go past and that, in fact, you never even found. There's a faint breeze coming from somewhere you can't see, an oddly sweet musky scent in the air, and a crank lantern wrapped in yellowish cloth lighting up the room. Several sanbo stands sit by a wall, most piled with small shiny things, but one holds the Lord Of The Rings books and the marinade instructions you printed for him — just photos of a deer and a yakiniku grill — and another has the kettle you used the most, while the yellow sleeping bag hangs from the ceiling. The centerpiece of the room is the enormous nest, three meters across easily, a round frame of sticks and vines laced together and padded with some kind of stuffing in raw silk sacks and the pelts of deer, rabbits, and a couple of bears, laid over with a patchwork of fabrics. Silk and linen and cotton and fleece, some stitched together and others big enough to cover a good-sized stretch on their own.

This is his room. This is where he keeps the things he likes the most. His shiniest treasures, the books you read to him and the bed you slept in.

There's a tugging at your hair as he slides the antenna kanzashi out of it, then he goes over and sweeps one of the sanbo clear of shinies and sets the pins down on it. The wing-patterned chihaya comes off next, and he hangs that from the ceiling with silk threads. "You make yourself look like me," he rasps.

"Yes. It's tradition for the maidens at your shrine." You glance at the kanzashi as the ribbon tying your ponytail in place is added to them. "You didn't know we were for you?"

"They never said."

"We thought you were taking the lanterns the way you took the sanbo." You gesture to the little altars. "Because you didn't want the offerings themselves. But… why did you go see some of the miko but not others?"

"I came to see the ones that smelled right." He lowers his head to sniff your neck, antenna patting at your ear and hair. "You smell right."

His claws aim for the tie of your hakama and you quickly undo the ties before he can cut them off. "You still didn't take them," you whisper.

"They didn't make me want them. They didn't come to me in spring." Your hakama fall, but they don't hit the floor. Instead they land on more strings, and when you step out of them, you almost trip, because your tabi appear to have been stitched to the floor, so your feet come out of those too. You're left in your underwear and your kosode, and he slides the latter off your shoulders to hang the lot up with the chihaya. "You made me want you, and came when I needed you."

"Then why did you send me away last year?"

"Because you wanted to leave!" he snarls. You hold very, very still, and he shudders, sniffing your neck again and peels the last of the fabric wrapped around you off. These he doesn't hang up, and he sniffs at the seat of your panties like a teenage junkie with a bottle of glue, before tossing them into his nest and leaning against your back. "If you had stayed longer, I wouldn't have let you go at all."

It's not anger, you realize. It's hurt. "I came back. I'll always come back."

"You won't leave again."

"I belong at your shrine. On your land."

"Mine," he repeats.

"Yours." You turn and kiss him.

You've been careful not to lick away the honey ointment on your lips. It's hours old by now, and most of it has sunk in or worn away anyway. But there's enough sweetness left to catch his attention, and it baits him into tasting your mouth. He catches onto the trick immediately, but isn't at all put off. Instead he grabs your face with both hands and holds you still while he alternates between gentle, if slightly mechanical kisses, and clumsy but enthusiastic attempts to stick his tongue all the way down your throat. Since his tongue is noticeably longer than a human's, he gets fairly close to managing the latter.

"Humans do this when they mate, right?" he asks breathlessly. "I've seen."

"We do. Did you learn by watching?" He definitely seems like he's mimicking something he's only seen from the outside.

"And those picture stories," he agrees. "I'm doing it right, right?"

"You have a good idea to start with. Can I show you more?" You take his wrists in your hands and tug them down to your shoulders, then take over the kiss, demonstrating how to mold your mouths together and how to explore instead of just diving all the way in. He learns quickly, and enjoys it if the way he's crooning into your mouth is any indication.

You lose track of things after a minute or two, then your feet find themselves lifting over fur-covered twigs and your ass is planted on a swath of flannel, and the mountain god is kneeling over you. You've never seen beneath his wings before, not really, but now they're shrugged off his shoulders and hanging behind him. He wears nothing, showing off velvety skin marked by scattered scars, and a thick trail of fluff matching his neck-crest trails down from his navel to between his legs. There's enough volume that if he were calm you might see nothing but soft white pelt, but he is most certainly not calm, and the proof is… intimidating.

Bluntly speaking, his cock is monstrous. Skin flushed pink going into deep red at the glistening tip, longer both your fists stacked and thick enough around you might struggle to close your fingers around it, and knotted nearly twice as wide at the base like the fantasy toys you used to giggle over with your university roommate. You raise your hand to touch it, and find perfectly ordinary skin, silky smooth and hot with the blood running under it, pulse detectable in the prominent vein just under the surface.

He lets you for just a minute, then he pulls your hand away with a squeak and pushes you back against the nest, going down with you and nuzzling at your neck. His tongue sweeps over the faint marks on your throat where his bite never fully faded, then out along your shoulder and back in across your collarbone. He takes his time plastering his scent all over your neck, wings periodically flicking behind him, and the longer he takes, the more your blood heats.

Finally he moves lower. His hands trace over your breasts, carefully keeping his claws held back from your skin while his fingertips follow the curves, brush the peaks into stiffening, while he squeezes and kneads. Then he lowers his head and wraps his tongue around your nipple. His antenna immediately start twitching wildly. He glances up at you, pupils blowing out so much that his eyes are all shine and no glare, then closes his mouth on your breast and starts to suck.

You can't stop the moan. "Shinchuu-sama—"

"No," he growls, raising his head. "Tomura."

You blink in confusion, mouthing the syllables to yourself. Mourning?

"Tomura. Say it."

"Tomura," you whisper.

He croons, pleased, and resumes sucking. You slip your fingers through his hair, thumb brushing across the tip of his ear, and he suckles harder, his hip coming down on your thigh and starting to rub.

"You like that, Tomura?"

His wings flick and flutter as he looks up and nods, and he gives your nipple a solid lick before moving to the other one to repeat the treatment. He takes his time, and doesn't stop until you're thoroughly oversensitized and panting with need. Then he lifts his head again and cups the tender flesh with his palm. "This is… ideal. You liked that, right?"

You wonder what he means by ideal, when he seemed to pick the word so carefully, but you don't ask. Instead you nod with a smile and brush your thumb on his cheekbone. "You're very good at that, Tomura."

…You've never seen him smile before. It's an awkward expression, so wide it shows all of his teeth and forces his eyes into crescents, and it probably should be unsettling, but it radiates so much happiness that it's endearing instead. You want to kiss him again.

You'll have to do that later though, because he's moving away, or rather moving down. He pushes your legs apart and hunches between them, pressing his nose to your folds and inhaling deeply. You shudder at the touch, then shudder harder when he uses the knuckles of his curled fingers to spread you open. The air in the cave is cool, but his breath is hot where it puffs over your flesh. His tongue is even hotter, and your lungs hitch and your fingers twist in the bedding when he starts to lick. He's thorough, exploring every millimeter, and he finds your clit without you having to say a word. He promptly starts mouthing at it, testing your response to different kisses and licks with his antenna flicking like the needle on a geiger counter. And like a geiger counter, the faster they twitch the more intense the reading. You'd wonder how he can tell if he wasn't driving every thought out of your head before you can form it. The instant before you come, he breaks away. You open your mouth to protest, maybe to beg, but before the complaint can form, his nose smashes against your clit and the entire length of his tongue shoves into your entrance. The unexpected change in stimulation pushes you unceremoniously over the edge, and his wings flare up in surprise as you clench and ripple around the long muscle.

"What was that?" he demands, wide-eyed.

"Wha— agh… What was what?"

"That! The… squeezing thing!"

You have a sneaking suspicion that his level of experience is even lower than you had assumed, even accounting for observation. "That was an orgasm. I came."

He blinks. "That's what coming is?" You nod, and he briefly looks proud of himself, then his expression turns dismayed. "Can you do it again? You're not tired already?"

"I can go again," you assure him.

"Good." With that serious pronouncement, he crawls back up your body and settles between your legs properly, rutting his hips a few times. "Need to mate you now."

You wrap your arms around his neck and nod. "I'm ready. Go slow, okay? You're really big and I'm small."

"Try," he mumbles distractedly. He reaches between you and takes his cock in hand, then presses the broad tip against your pussy. You both moan, and he trembles with effort. Slowly, he starts to work his way inside.

Your eyes water and you bite your lip at the stinging stretch, and it doesn't stop. He pauses, panting, after a few centimeters, but only for a moment, and it's not enough time for you to adjust, so the burn builds until he hits the barrier of your cervix, forcing the air out of your lungs.

Only then does he stop, and he looks down between the two of you in confusion. "What…?"

You suck in a breath and look down as well. He's as deep as he can get, but there's still two fingers' width of space between you and his knot. Not to mention the fact that you're so overstuffed you still haven't started to adjust. You're… disappointed. "I to— Told you I'm… nng… small… I'm sorry…"

"But that, haah, that doesn't make sense… That's where…" He trails off and shifts a tiny bit, then notices your quiet whine of pain and freezes. His eyes blaze red and paralyze you like a sparrow faced with a viper. "Relax," he hisses. "Don't hurt."

Just like you always do when he looks at you like that, you obey. Your body releases tension in ways you didn't even know it could, and the discomfort of being all but split in half on his cock finally fades in favor of a slow wash of euphoria that has you moaning. "Tomura…"

He starts to croon. Then his hips shift and your lungs are emptied again as he slides deeper, the head of his cock squeezing past your cervix. He keeps going, and your cunt stretches exquisitely to accommodate his knot, leaving the fluff at his base to tickle your clit. Dimly you realize exactly what his command to relax did to your body, and it's proven when you look down at the touch of his hand on your belly to see your insides bulging outward under the pressure of him.

"Good mate," he coos. "Take me good. Feel nice?"

His words are stilted, not like he's not sure if he's saying the right thing, but like he's struggling with the function of speech in general, but the look on his face suggests he expects an answer. You reach up and kiss him.

"Feels nice," you agree hazily. "Go ahead, Tomura. Give me everything."

Whatever sense of restraint he was clinging to for your sake is released, and he starts to thrust. His pace is fast, desperate, without rhythm, and you might be concerned about getting off if he was built like a human. But he's not. The fluff at his base teases your clit, and the knot on his shaft goes just deep enough to cram itself up against the sweet spot inside, so every stroke hits everywhere you need it to. You're wound up too tight to think in no time at all, and you cling to his neck while he squeaks a little louder with every thrust, and when you crash over the edge, he follows seconds later. Seed floods into you in a rush of searing heat, so much that it froths out around him, and he locks into place, spreading his wings to shelter the entire nest while he trembles against you.

You pet his hair slowly, soothingly, combing the fingers of one hand through the tangled locks while the other does the same to the crest around his neck. You aren't sure what kind of aftercare he needs, and you don't really expect he does either, but you're not about to skip out on at least trying. He seems to like this well enough, if the way he rubs his nose against your neck and chirps is any indication.

After several minutes of simply existing in each other's arms, he reluctantly starts to shift away. When the sticky mix of fluids begins leaking out of you faster, he fixes you with another hypnotic glare. "Close," he orders. "Keep it."

Your insides tense instantly, not a cramp but your womb sealing back up, and you nod to signal that his command worked. He's already slipping out of you, and a glance down at his hips shows him slowly retracting back into the fluff. When you check with your fingers, you find that his command must have also prevented your pussy from staying molded to his size and shape, and you muffle a sigh of relief.

"Tomura? Could we go take a bath? It's just fine inside me, but it's unpleasant when this dries on the skin." You hold up your slicked fingers.

He regards you for a moment, then nods slowly and scoops you into his arms, standing easily and trotting out of the bedroom and through the tunnels. The smell of sulfur is nostalgic, at this point, but him stepping into the water with you is new.

You scrub your hands clean quickly, then undo your ponytail and retie it into a bun higher up, away from the water. Once that's done, you can clean the rest of yourself. Then you turn to look at Tomura. He's perched awkwardly just at the edge of the pool, his wings held high behind him, and watching you intently.

"You don't want your wings getting wet?" you ask.

He shakes his head. "Can't fly when they're wet. Need to be able to fly."

"Need?"

"You can't, so I have to. Not safe to be stuck on the ground." One claw points to the scar on your shoulder.

You cover the mark with your hand, then nod solemnly. "Can I help you wash anything else?"

His cheeks flush red and his eyes light up, and he points to the fluff between his legs. Well, you are a bit curious about just how well-hidden everything is… And the answer turns out to be completely. You're not sure how that works, but it doesn't matter.

Once you're sure you're done leaking, he lifts you out of the water and carries you back to the bedroom, tucking you into the nest and curling up around you. You're certainly tired by now, but there's something left to do.

"Tomura?"

"Mate?"

You can't fight the silly smile that comes with that address. "How long until sunrise?"

His antenna twitch for a moment. "…Four sticks."

It only took a few minutes to get from the Shinboku to the cave, didn't it? Definitely no more than ten… "Would you be willing to go to the shrine for me? There's food laid out for you. For us. And I'd like to send a message to the kannushi."

"I don't want to talk to another human."

"You don't have to," you assure him. "I can write it down on paper with some charcoal. She won't be waiting there at this time of night anyway."

"Haven't got paper… Bark?"

"As long as it's light-colored and flat."

He grumbles a bit, but leaves the room and comes back with a scrap of birch bark the size of his spread hand and a burnt stick, then watches you write. "What does it say?"

"It's a request that she leave extra food at the shrine. Kinds that aren't normally offered. I want to cook more things while I'm here this time."

He jerks away, baring his teeth. "While you're here?"

"Yes?" You look up at his narrow eyes and pinprick pupils. "Tomura, you're my husband and I will never leave you, but I physically can't stay here in this cave with you forever."

"Why not?!"

"Do you know why I left the first time?" He shakes his head, and you reach out to lace your fingers between his. "I was getting sick, Tomura. Humans aren't meant to live in the dark, and we're meant to eat many different things, not only a few. You've seen deer lick at salt rocks, haven't you?"

He nods slowly, unwillingly.

"They need it. I was like a deer without salt. If I had stayed much longer, another few weeks maybe, my bones would have started getting hollow and brittle, and after that I would have had other, worse problems."

"But if this other human is sending food to the red house for you—"

"Do you remember almost sixty years ago, there was a human that got stung by a wasp and hit her head on your tree? You brought her here, healed the wasp sting, and bandaged her head?" He nods again and you squeeze his hand. "That was her. She's eighty-two years old. She'll only live a few more, and I'm the only other person who works at the shrine. There won't be anyone else to bring food once she dies, because that will be my job."

He's silent for a few minutes. "You're mine. You have to stay…"

It's not rage. It's fear, the anticipation of grief.

"Have you ever been down the path from the shrine? To the bigger red buildings?"

He nods. "I took some of my things from there, once…"

"That's where she lives. Where I live. And the town that the fake tengu came from, just around the edge of the valley, is where we buy food. I promise not to go any further away than that." You're not going to try to explain hospitals to him right now. "And those red buildings are yours too, so you can come there whenever you want."

There's another few minutes of silence, and you twitch the charcoal stick between your fingers nervously. "You have to stay here until summer," he finally says. "You can go outside for light if you need it, but you can't go back to the red buildings before spring is over. I need you."

"Okay, Tomura. I'll stay here until spring is over."

"Good. Write your message."

You do. You tell the kannushi that the lantern was left at the Shinboku, that your new husband is very attentive, and that your duties as a miko require you to remain where you are until the end of spring, so you would appreciate supplies being sent, with a list attached. You hand the bark to him when you're done and kiss him on the cheek, then lay back down and close your eyes as he turns to leave.

You're happy this way.

Happy with him.

"I love you, Tomura," you whisper.

"What is that?" he asks, stopping in his tracks. "Humans say that, what does it mean?"

"It means—" A yawn cuts you off. "It means I want to spend my time with you. I want to share food and stories and other things with you. I want you to be happy, to see you smile. It means you're the most precious of treasures to me…"

There's a long silence. You don't know how long, maybe you fall asleep. When the silence is broken, you feel his lips pressed to your forehead. "I love you, mate."

#mothman au #hot moth summer #shigaraki tomura x reader #he's heard 'i'm cumming' before but didn't know what it meant #didn't help that a lot of those girls were probably faking it #and he has no idea how the guys didn't notice #kinktober early posting #day 21 monsterfucking

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