desc tokoyami finds comfort in your room — and in you — a dorm room he always returns to, where the wait between visits never feels as long.
a/n 18+ ⸝⸝ aged up au
requested by my best friend @matildallover ♡. tokoyami may be a little ooc since i haven't finished the anime yet, but i read a few fics to get his general vibe! also sorry for the delayed upload — life got a little busy and still fighting sickness... thank you for the patience.
wc 500
tokoyami doesn't let people into his room. it isn't something he announces — it's just known. his space is quiet and intentional, untouched by anyone else. so when he needs somewhere that isn't loud or crowded or full of eyes, he always seems to end up at your door. every time.
your dorm room is smaller than his, but much warmer. the lights are softer, the air faintly scented with laundry detergent and something sweet. he sits wherever you gesture — the chair, the floor, the edge of your bed — careful and respectful. always staying longer than planned.
tonight, you're both supposed to be studying. you're not.
you sit cross-legged on your bed, notes forgotten at your side, watching tokoyami as he leans back against the mattress, long legs stretched out in front of him. he's quieter than usual, dark shadow curled lazily nearby instead of prowling. he looks... comfortable.
"you can sit up here," you say, nodding to the bed.
he hesitates — just a beat — before complying. he sits beside you, close but not touching, hands folded neatly in his lap like he's holding himself still on purpose. your knee brushes his. neither of you moves away.
"you don't mind," he says quietly, "that i come here so often?"
you shrug, pretending your heart isn't beating too fast. "i wouldn't invite you if i did."
he hums, thoughtful. "...then i am glad."
the silence stretches — not awkward, just still. your shoulders inch closer until they touch. the contact sends heat curling low in your stomach. tokoyami notices.
"if i am too close," he murmurs, "you must tell me."
you turn to him instead. your fingers curl lightly into the fabric of his sleeve, testing. his breath stutters — barely audible — but he doesn't pull away. his hand lifts instinctively, hovering near your waist, stopping short like he's waiting for a signal.
you give it to him.
you lean in and kiss him. it's soft at first — careful, almost shy — but deliberate. the moment your lips meet, he freezes, feathers fluffing before he can stop them. then he melts.
his hand settles at your waist, thumb pressing firmly enough to steal your breath. he kisses you back slowly, carefully, like he's afraid of rushing something sacred. the heat builds anyway, steady and pooling beneath your skin.
when you pull back, it's only an inch.
"...you initiated," he murmurs, voice low and rough.
you smile, a little breathless. "was that okay?"
his grip tightens — just slightly.
"it was," he says. "more than okay."
you stay close, foreheads touching, his hand still warm at your side and yours resting over his chest, feeling how fast his heart is beating. neither of you pushes it further. you don't need to.
later, when he finally stands to leave, he pauses at your door like he always does.
"...may i return tomorrow?" he asks.
you nod. "i was hoping you would."
and this time, when he leaves, it's already understood — the space between visits won't feel as long.
