#Gods I am so hungover I couldn't remember half of the words in my vocab

[morgana-ren]

so, idea: good old fashioned villains vs heroes. heroes massacred, shiggy kills a pro hero and is about to kill their sidekick, then the kids they were protected. sidekick says she'll do anything to save them; shiggy does the whole leering 'anything?' thing, expecting her to punch him, or use her quirk -- but she knows she's outmatched, and so she kisses him instead. slightly older reader (like 28), manchild confused shiggy, then we go from there

He’s a total school boy but he’ll never admit it

Liquid red bleeds into white, seeping into the fabric of your slashed hero uniform and settling into the pores of the fabric. Your knees tremble and your body quakes, gripping the wound across your stomach as blood slips through the slats of your fingers. Gravel embeds into your knees, nerves singing with pain. The tears slipping down your cheeks mingle with ash and soot, the fleeting remains of the brave hero who gave his life to keep you from the same fate.

A group of terrified students cowers behind you, trembling from the nightmare to the front.

These aren't just students- they're children. These are children. They cling to each other, cold and hurt and terrified. The brave ones do their best to tend to the few wounded, staring down at the threat that encroaches. Others shrink. Some cry and pray.

All are shaking.

Don't let them see you like this!

You're grateful for the rain; the tears that slip down across your face through your defiant features are hidden. The pain is blinding but you refuse to fall. They need you. You can't afford to fall now. This isn't about you.

He inches closer, the monster clad in black, careless footsteps sloshing through the puddles on the ground as his red shoes stop just short of you. Hands in his pockets, head cocked as he looks down on you with an expression that reeks of condescension. Rain slips through his silver hair, a hideous cackle resounding along side the thunder. 

“This is the best the heroes have got, huh? Pathetic.”

The sole of his shoe collides with your chest, sending you careening onto your back. The wound in your side sears as you hit the asphalt, a scream ripping from your lungs despite your will. There’s an unforgiving sting in your cheek as it slides across the terrain, forcing a muffled sob from your throat, pain becoming overwhelming. 

He circles you for a moment, sneering with jagged teeth bared. A predator sizing up his fallen prey. Disgust is apparent in his eyes; he hates you. It only lasts a moment before he throws one leg over you, leaning down and straddling your prone form, firm hand gripped on your chin. 

“I’m going to kill you, little hero. It’s going to hurt. But before I do, I want you to know that I’m going to kill them as well. Can’t have the next generation of heroes using you as a martyr now can we?” 

Fear is palpable from behind you. Between the rumbles of thunder, you can hear the crying and pleading. None try to run- they’re surrounded- trapped by villains that circle around them like ravenous wolves. 

You can’t let him do this. You can’t let him hurt them!

“Wait! Please!-” Your mind runs at unforgiving speed, head pulsing and pounding with pain and panic. “Don’t hurt them! Take me instead.”

He scoffs, gripping you by the collar and yanking you up slightly off the ground. “I already told you I was going to kill you. Are you some kind of idiot or something?”

“You can take me back with you. I won’t fight you. You can torture me or kill me or use me as bait. I won’t put up a fight. I’ll go willingly if you please just-” A small hiccup in your chest, knowing you mean every word and the weight it carries. “-Just please let them go. They’re just kids.”

He seems unimpressed, but there’s a small flash across his eyes, one you recognize. Your submission to him in front of all these people, your students, strokes his ego. You swallow down another sob, desperately trying to contain the shivers that wrack your limbs. 

“Please, Shigaraki. I’ll do whatever you want.” 

His eyes narrow, studying your face and then further down your body, gaze lingering on less than appropriate places for far too long for you not to understand where his mind has steered him. “Whatever I want, huh? That’s a pretty stupid thing to say when you don’t know what I’ll ask for.” 

You’re fairly certain now what it is he wants, and if it saves the lives of the innocents behind you, you’ll lock away your pride and your dignity and whatever else you need to if it keeps them safe. Shigaraki Tomura is a man after all, and ultimately men are simple creatures with even more simple desires. With a shaky gesture, you lift your palm up from the ground and place it gently on his own hand that grips your collar. 

“Anything.” 

His eyes widen, and for a moment, his expression falters. He looks confused, flustered even. Given your close proximity, you can even see the blush blossoming in his cheeks and down his neck. He looks almost innocent in this second, like a school boy faced with his first crush. You imagine he almost certainly didn’t expect you to acquiesce, let alone encourage his line of thinking. 

Disbelief. He looks like he doesn’t believe you.

You slowly push up towards him and his fist tightens on your clothing. He expects an ambush. That you’ll get his guard down with your seductions and then strike when he’s lost in the fog. A good tactic, but in this scenario, it sports a one hundred percent chance of failure. Shigaraki is an excellent fighter, and an even more impressive strategist. The only winning move is the one he has never planned for. 

Before he can recoil, you smash your lips against his. 

You can feel his breath hitch, eyes widening in total incredulity. For the first time in nearly his entire life, Tomura Shigaraki is at a complete loss. The hoots and hollers from the low lives under his command mesh into the sounds of the storm that rages around you, but you shove down the humiliation and defeat. Being a hero means saving them- No matter what the cost to you.

When he finally finds the mind to kiss you back, it’s the antithesis of everything he stands for. It’s meek and gentle, almost fragile in nature. It’s painfully apparent he doesn’t know a thing about what he’s doing, but he indulges none the less. His tongue slips across your lips and you’re prepared to take the hit but he pulls away as suddenly as he accepted it. 

“Fine-” He huffs, breathless as he pulls you both callously to your feet, ignoring the agonizing wound laced across your ribs. The pain is too much and you almost fall but he catches you with a strange amount of consideration. He doesn’t quite carry you- That would look weak after all- but he takes a considerable amount of strain off of your body as he keeps you upright.

”Leave the brats. They’re useless.” He commands his small platoon away to some measure of disappointment from them. “I got what I came for anyway.”