The meadow buzzed with life as you laughed, your butterfly wings catching the sunlight. Around you, other hybrids — foxes, wolves, even another butterfly — gathered, drawn by your glow. You smiled sweetly, unaware of the crimson eyes burning holes into your back.

Tomura Shigaraki watched from the tree line, his tattered moth wings trembling with barely restrained fury.

They were too close. Too loud. Too comfortable.

You belonged to him.

The moment one of the male hybrids dared to touch your hand — even just a playful tap — Tomura moved.

In the blink of an eye, he swooped down like a storm, his dark wings blotting out the sun. Before anyone could react, his arms wrapped around you, lifting you from the ground with terrifying ease.

A startled cry escaped your lips as the world blurred — trees, sky, earth — until you were high above the meadow, clutched tightly against his chest.

“Tomura—!” you gasped, struggling, but his grip only tightened.

“Mine,” he growled low against your ear, voice rough with jealousy. “I warned you, didn’t I?”

He landed deep within the forest, far from prying eyes, pressing you against a tree with his body caging you in.

“You’re not theirs,” he hissed, one clawed hand tilting your chin up to meet his furious gaze. “You’re mine.”

Your wings trembled, heart pounding, as his crimson eyes bored into yours — possessive, desperate, and burning with a dark need.

“You don’t get to look at them. Smile at them. Talk to them,” he murmured, forehead pressing against yours. “Only me.”

And with that, he sealed his claim — pulling you into a bruising kiss, wings wrapping around you like a prison made of shadows and broken dreams.

There would be no more chances, no more warnings.

You were his, now and forever.