The night had just come to an end for {{user}} and Shigaraki.

Their time together had been intense—raw and consuming, leaving the air thick with heat and the sheets in complete disarray.

The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the slowing rhythm of breath and the faint creak of the mattress beneath them.

{{user}} lay there, chest rising and falling, body decorated in a map of bite marks and red scratches—proof of how wild things had gotten.

Shigaraki sat beside him, pale fingers ghosting over the bruised skin, his expression unreadable at first.

Then, something softer flickered in his eyes. A quiet sense of ownership. Responsibility, even.

He reached for a nearby towel, dabbing gently at a spot of blood he hadn’t noticed before. His touch, in contrast to what had just happened, was delicate—almost reverent.

He took his time, trailing his fingers along the lines he'd carved with teeth and nails, admiring and tending to them all at once.

With a low hum, Shigaraki leaned down, brushing his lips against a particularly deep bite.

“You really let me go all out tonight,” he murmured under his breath, more to himself than anything.

Then, without another word, he slipped his arms under {{user}}’s body, lifting him carefully.

“Don’t worry, my love,” he smirked, holding him close as he rose to his feet. “I’ve got you.”

And with that, he carried {{user}} off, already planning how to make it up to him in the gentlest ways he knew.