#SHIGARAKI TOMURA X YOU
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among the wildflowers - a shigaraki x f!reader oneshot
You were raised to hide your magic, but Tenko didn't learn about his until it was too late. When it erupts with deadly consequences and splits the two of you apart, you turn to your own magic for a solution, even knowing that it could change you for good. If it brings Tenko back to you, it'll all be worth it - no matter how long it takes.
This is a slightly late submission for Challenge Friday over @pixelcafe-network, for which I received the prompts 'striped carnation' and 'stock flower'! I decided to combine them into one fic, which naturally got sort of long. 7.1k, lowkey medieval au, magic, flower symbolism, setting-appropriate violence, pining, etc. dividers by @strangergraphics.
Once upon a time, you were a little girl who lived with her mother in a small cottage at the edge of a great estate. Your mother tended to the estate’s vast gardens, sometimes accompanied by the lady of the house, and you followed at her heels, speaking only when spoken to but learning by watching the rest of the time. You don’t remember the first day you set out with your mother and a handcart full of tools and supplies. It was what you always did.
You remember the day you met the lord and lady’s children, though. As though it was yesterday. All you have to do is close your eyes and think back, and suddenly you’re there again – sitting up in the wild section of the gardens mere seconds before Hana and Tenko could trip over you. Hana stopped in time. Tenko couldn’t. He knocked you over completely and the two of you sprawled out in the dirt. Hana fell down, too, but only because she was laughing so hard. “I warned you, Tenko! I said to watch out –”
“I couldn’t see,” Tenko protested. “The grass was too high. Are you all right?”
You nodded. Your mother had told you not to speak to the lord and lady’s children unless spoken to, and while Tenko did speak to you, you didn’t need to answer out loud. Tenko scratched idly at the side of his neck and peered closer at you. “Where did you come from? Are you alone?”
“She’s not alone, silly. Her mother is the gardener.” Hana smiled, offered you a hand up. Not taking it would be rude, so you took it. “What are you doing out here?”
“Listening to the flowers,” you said. For some reason, you were more comfortable speaking to Hana than Tenko. Tenko made you shy. “They can talk.”
“I knew it! That’s why we’re here.” Tenko produced a book, one that looked far too frail to be dragged out into the garden. “This says flowers have their own language, and if we can learn to talk in it, we’ll be able to send messages without anybody else understanding. If you already know it, you can teach us!”
“And talk to us, too!” Hana beamed. She was still holding your hand, and when she sat down, she pulled you down with her. Tenko sat down on her other side and handed over the book. “It’s all right if you can’t read. Tenko can’t read yet, either.”
“I can too –”
“I’ll read it out loud,” Hana said importantly. She opened the book, flipped through it to a certain page, and started reading. “Abecedary. Volatility. Abatina – that’s fickleness –”
“Those aren’t good,” Tenko said, frowning. “I don’t even know what those are.”
You didn’t, either. “I know all the flowers in the garden, but not those. Keep reading – please.”
You only remembered please at the last second, remembered you were talking to nobility far too late, and cringed in expectation of a punishment. Even the village children, confident that they were your betters, were always quick to reprimand. But Tenko was nodding in agreement, and Hana kept reading, as requested. “Acacia – friendship. Do you know that one?”
You did, and you brought back a sprig for each of them. That was how you made your best and only friends.
Sometimes they both came to find you in the gardens, but as the years passed, more often it was Tenko alone, fleeing his father or already banished from the house. He brought the book with him, and sometimes his dog, too, and no matter where you were in the gardens, they always found their way to where you played. Tenko could read by then, and you were learning, a little. Enough to read about the language of flowers, and the meaning of each bloom you and your mother tended to.
“You said you could understand the flowers,” Tenko said to you one day, and you nodded. “You didn’t mean it like this.”
He tapped the book. You nodded again. “I can hear what they say to each other. I can’t always understand it, but I hear.”
Tenko’s dog was sleeping in the grass a few feet away, snoring. Tenko watched you with bright eyes and a smile that still made you shy. “Tell me what they’re saying.”
“They gossip and chatter like hens in a henhouse.”
“Or like my grandparents at tea,” Tenko said, and laughed. “Do they talk about us?”
The flowers really only have one thing to say. “They want Mon to stop watering them.”
Tenko laughed harder, and beneath the sweet, raspy sound, you could hear the flowers whispering. Urging care, urging caution. “Don’t tell anyone, please.”
“I won’t. I swear,” Tenko said earnestly. He held out his hand to link little fingers and swear, and you crooked your finger around his. “Tell me when they say things about me.”
“I will,” you promised. “Keep reading?”
Tenko turned the page, still clumsier than Hana ever did. “Alyssum – worth beyond beauty. Amaranth – immortality and unfading love.” He stumbled over the next few, his mouth tangling around the syllables, until his lips split and he worked it out. “Ambrosia – love returned. Oh, no –”
His lip was bleeding. “Let me,” you said without thinking, and you ran your fingertip over the split, coaxing it to heal quickly. Tenko froze beneath your hand. “I’m sorry –”
“You fixed it,” Tenko said. He raised the hand that had been scratching his neck and nudged your hand aside, tracing over the healed split himself. “You’re magic –”
You shushed him hurriedly. “Don’t tell anyone about that, either.”
“I won’t,” Tenko said. “Not even Hana. She talks to Father, and Father doesn’t like magic.”
You knew. You’d heard shouting from the manor, heard a few details from Tenko himself when he came running after the latest fight. Tenko’s grandmother, long dead by then, was a witch with tremendous power, who abandoned Tenko’s father to be raised by strangers so she could pursue an old enemy. Hana and Tenko weren’t supposed to know about that, and neither were you. “He says magic makes people selfish,” Tenko said. He looked at you with something like awe. “But you aren’t.”
“My mother says magic doesn’t change who a person is. It’s all about how they use it.”
Tenko smiled again, and a different split opened in his lips. “What are you going to use it for?”
You sealed the new split, too. “This,” you said, and almost immediately you felt his lips stretch into a wider smile beneath your fingers.
Your magic is the magic of wild places, of things that grow and change, and you had only small uses for it until the summer of your twelfth year. That was the year plague swallowed the countryside, scoured the village, and left the manor house untouched. It left your cottage untouched, too. Your mother went to the village one day, leaving you home to tend the gardens, and never returned. A messenger brought word that she had fallen sick. Another brought word that she had died, not half an hour later.
Tenko’s father was not unkind to you. He ensured your mother was laid to rest properly, at his own expense, and when you begged an audience from him with tears still drying on your cheeks, he granted it and let you make your case for why you should be allowed to take on your mother’s role rather than being cast out. “I have followed her since I was able to walk. I know all that she knew about the gardens, and I could learn more, for I can read. I am a diligent worker. I will ask for nothing. Only – please, do not send me away.”
“You’re still a child,” Tenko’s father said, almost dismissively. “How do you expect to care for yourself alone?”
“I know what to do,” you said stubbornly. Even though your hope was fading, you held firm. “I can tend to the gardens, and to myself.”
It was quiet for a moment. “Due to your inexperience, you’ll receive half your mother’s previous wage,” Tenko’s father said. “And you’ll take your evening meal here, at six o’clock each evening. Do you understand?”
It was more than you had hoped for. You nodded enthusiastically, smiling so hard your face hurt, and at your first meal with the Shimuras, you spent most of it staring down at your bowl, tears slipping down your face. Hana walked you home, with a bundle of food from the cook for your breakfast, and although you looked for Tenko, he was nowhere to be found. Hana was long gone and you were lighting the candles when he dropped something on your doorstep and ran away.
“Tenko?” you called out. “Tenko, come back.”
He was gone. On your doorstep was a bouquet, tied messily with twine, and as you sorted through it, you named the flowers one by one. Evergreen thorn – solace in adversity. Everlasting – never-ceasing remembrance. Marigold – grief. It made for an awkward bouquet, but you did not love it for its appearance. You replanted the bouquet in dark soil and coaxed them back to life, and many years later, you sang to them until they grew into a strange hybrid tree, one with thorns and flowers. It grows still. If anyone asks you, you could show it to them.
You mourned your mother. You would mourn her forever. You were always lonely, but the evenings you spent with Tenko’s family were peaceful ones. Looking back, you think that your presence kept the worst of Tenko’s father’s temper quiet, simply because he did not wish to misbehave in front of a stranger. Lady Shimura was always kind to you, and Hana and Tenko had been your friends for many years by then. You were never foolish enough to think you were part of their family. You were grateful for the time you had.
The night the Shimuras died, you’d retired early. You felt ill, and ill at ease, and you couldn’t explain why. Whenever you came upon a feeling you couldn’t explain, you were apt to blame magic, and you thought it wise to experience whatever was about to happen out of sight. You were correct to believe that magic was at fault for the discomfort and unease that swept over you. It just wasn’t your magic that caused it.
The legends say that Hell woke within the Shimuras’ house that night, wrecked it from the inside out until nothing but the foundation was left. If a piece of damnation came through, it left Hell far from empty behind it. You heard screams and terrible sounds, and the flowers whispered to you of what had happened at the manor house in the dark of the moon. They told you all they could see and all they had heard. By the time Tenko fell heavily against your doorstep, you knew most things.
Most things, save one. You brought him inside, cleaned blood off his hands, resolved to say nothing – and even as you were so resolved, you were opening your mouth. “Did you mean to do it?”
“No.” Tenko shivered, in spite of the blanket you wrapped around his shoulders. “Not all of it.”
“Your father,” you said. Tenko nodded, cringed away from you when you reached for him again. “Let me help.”
“I could hurt you.”
“Your magic needs time to build back up. Mine does, when I use a lot of it,” you said. “It’s safe, for a little while.”
“Why don’t you hate me?” Tenko looked at you. His grey eyes had gone red, his black hair gone blueish-grey. There were fresh cuts over his eye and lip. “I killed all of them. Why aren’t you scared? Why aren’t you sad?”
You were. You’d show it more, later, once you finally wandered up to the ruins of the manor house and saw what had befallen the people who’d been kind to you. In that moment, all you could see was your best friend in front of you, bleeding and frightened and alone except for you. “I know why it happened,” you said to Tenko, and his shoulders stiffened beneath your hands. “It’s your magic, but there’s something within it. I can see it. Like corruption or root-rot. I could draw it out –”
“No.” Tenko recoiled from you. “It’s not safe.”
“If it’s unsafe for me, it’s unsafe for you, too,” you argued. “Please, Tenko. Let me help you.”
Tenko hesitated for a long moment. Somewhere in that moment, you reached for him, tracing your finger along the cut over his eye and healing it closed. For the first time, it didn’t heal smoothly. What happened to Tenko the night his magic erupted would leave a scar. It was the same with the one on his lip, too. He spoke before you could pull away. “In the morning.”
“In the morning,” you agreed, and as easily as taking the next step down on a staircase, you leaned in and kissed him.
In a love story, a true romance, you would have made love all night, and he would have left something behind with you – a child, maybe, with eyes like his used to be and your life-magic in its veins. The truth was simpler. You kissed your best friend and he kissed you back, his hands shaking and his mouth uncertain against yours. You led him to your bed and the two of you slept in each other’s arms. Slept, and nothing more. Tenko fell asleep within moments, wrung dry by the horror he’d been part of, and you stayed awake a while longer, sensing the corruption within him, planning how to draw it out when daylight came.
When you woke in the morning, your bed was cold, and when you went in search of Tenko, he was gone. The plants told you he had left, gone far beyond your reach, and if you had entertained any thoughts of chasing after him, they dissipated when you saw what he had left for you: A striped carnation, white with red edging the petals. You knew he knew what it meant. You could hear it in his voice as he read from the book – striped carnation, refusal. Tenko was gone, and he didn’t want you to follow him. You were alone.
It was a full day and night before you ventured up to the manor house, and even then, it was out of obligation. The Shimuras had offered your mother proper funeral rites, so you owed them the same. As you walked, you saw that sections of the gardens had begun to die, a black stain spreading across the grounds towards the ones that still lived. Corruption, the same as that which infested Tenko’s magic. An infestation that would only spread. You could have helped. Why wouldn’t he let you?
You reached the manor, and you saw why. You did what funeral rites you could, but there was barely enough of the Shimuras left to perform them for. Even Mon hadn’t been spared. You thought of what the flowers told you, of how terrified Tenko was as his magic slipped from his control and turned wild, and your heart broke again. It was easy to imagine why Tenko had fled rather than allow you to try to heal him. If it hadn’t worked, you would have died. Just like your best friend’s family did. And because corrupted magic corrodes and decays, it had begun to spread. It would consume the Shimura estate, destroying all your hard work and your mother’s, erasing every place you and your friends had been happy, leaving nothing but a wasteland.
You sat down in the midst of it all and wept – for their loss, and soon, every loss you had ever felt. Tears splatted down into the stinking dirt and crushed flagstones, but you paid them no heed as you mourned Lord and Lady Shimura, Hana and Mon, your mother and the garden she’d loved, and for Tenko. Tenko, who left you to save you. Tenko, who left you here, amidst the ruin of everything either of you had ever loved.
It seemed as though you wept for an age. When your tears ran dry and you wiped your eyes, you found that something strange had occurred in the places where your tears struck the ground. The dirt they’d soaked into was no longer rotting. It was black and cool to the touch, loamy when you picked it up to crumble between your fingers. The Shimura estate was devastated, yes. But there was no law that said it must remain that way.
You thought of how far the corruption had already spread. How much it would continue to spread as you worked against it, one small patch at a time. Restoring this place to life would be the work of a lifetime, or of several – and yet, it would be worth doing. It would be worth doing even if Tenko never came home. But as you sunk your hands into the next patch of ruined earth, biting the inside of your cheek against the sting and letting your sorrow bleed through, you hoped that he would. That he would come home, and find a place that had healed, just as he could.
The work of a lifetime, or several, but you were thinking in terms of a human lifespan, and with every day you spent using your magic to its limit, your lifespan shifted. A year spent clearing an area the size of a single garden plot was nothing to you. The ten years or more you spent breathing life back into a single tree flew by, barely missed. The years changed you, but not in the way they should have, and still, you kept count of time. You spent a century repairing the corruption before the corruption began to fight back.
It was a living thing, the darkness that had twisted your best friend. It thought to wear you down, to force you to leave in defeat. But you fought it every day, not tirelessly but ceaselessly, for every square foot of soil, until at last it gave up the areas you had reclaimed as lost for good. You were not fool enough to think that you had won. The corruption had left the bounds of the Shimura estate many years ago. It was abroad in the world, and it needed its strength for a greater purpose.
Although you fought your hardest, there were some scraps of corruption that you could not eradicate, some scars in the earth that could not be healed. So you drew them up instead, weaving them into the roots of the trees, shaping blossoms resilient enough to stand the rot. Those plants were wild and dangerous, but part of your garden all the same. You tended to them just as you tended to the others, and soon they stood proud among the rest.
All around you was proof that the corruption was not irreversible, that it could be survived, that one could carve out a life in the aftermath of destruction. When a great darkness arose on the far side of the world and people fled before it, some of them found their way to you. Your garden had spread far beyond the bounds of the Shimura estate by then, too, and they dwelt in peace at its edges. The heart of the new forest was the Shimuras’ old house. No one ever ventured there.
You rarely allowed yourself to be seen, but when you did, it was to learn of the outside world. When you asked the new arrivals what had driven them from their lands, they all gave the same answer, under different names. Destruction embodied. The Lord of Evil. The Demon King. The Symbol of Fear, Shigaraki Tomura, a dark magician whose life meant death for everyone he touched. Old beyond counting, eater of souls. The enemy of all that was good.
“He will destroy this world,” an old woman said to you solemnly, her voice devoid of hope. “All life is his enemy. He’ll come for you.”
Your forest teems with life. Life bursts into being every day, every second. You were not sure whether she was telling you to flee or simply relaying your doom, but you knew you could not run. You were making this place for proof, for a boy who must have been long dead, a man who would never come to see it. See, you wished you could say to Tenko, it’s healed. It was hard, but it’s healthy now.
You vowed then that you would stay. As more refugees fled into your forest’s embrace, as the Symbol of Fear crept slowly across the land, you held true. You will hold true until your own death, or until Tenko comes home for good.
“I grow flowers,” you say to the boy who’s come to the Shimura house to speak to you. “Entire gardens of them. They would tell the whole of the story I just told you, if anyone still knew to read their meanings – or knew how to listen.”
“It’s said that art was lost long ago,” the boy says. He leans forward, his eyes bright with interest. “Can you teach me?”
“Izuku,” the man who accompanied him says uncomfortably. He’s tall and rail-thin, scarred by the battle against the corruption, his years of fighting long past. “Ask the question.”
They explained who they were to you, but you knew already. The flowers had brought you warning of them, and you needed to look at them only a moment to understand what was happening here. The old man can fight no longer. He’s entrusted all to the boy. This boy is meant to slay the Symbol of Fear. “How old are you?” you ask, and the boy stammers out an answer. “Fifteen. I was that same age when the estate fell into ruin.”
“Was brought to ruin, you mean,” an even older man tells you. This one is short and stooped. “No matter what you have done to it, this is still the birthplace of the evil we face.”
“The boy who carried it was born here, yes,” you allow. “But he was not its source.”
The old man lets out a short, sharp bark of a laugh. “Was? Is. Shigaraki Tomura lives still.”
Your heart goes still for a moment, and once more, the flowers whisper to you – urging caution, urging care. “It’s my job to defeat him,” Izuku says to you. He shows you the sword he’s carrying – a mighty blade, almost too heavy for him to lift, woven with the magic of seven sorcerers before him. “Will you help me?”
“Defeat him? Or kill him?” You watch the older men exchange guilty glances. “I can help you with neither.”
“But you’ve stood against him all this time –”
“I have been waiting for him,” you say. Tenko still lives. Magic has changed you, lengthened your life – why would it not have done the same to him? “I want him to come home, so he can be healed.”
“Healed?” the old man scoffs. “The Symbol of Fear knows no peace. The rest of us will find it only in his death.”
The younger of the two old man puts up an argument of some kind, and beneath it, Izuku turns to you. “You would heal him?” he asks. “How?”
“You see this place?” You gesture around at it. “It was once wracked by the same corruption that troubles my friend. Evidence of it still lingers. What happened here will never be forgotten entirely. But it has healed. So, too, could he be. If he chose.”
“I have faced him before,” Izuku says. There’s a strange, hopeful light in his eyes, faint and flickering. “I saw what haunts him. He looked as if – as if –”
You wait. “As if he was asking to be rescued,” Izuku says, and although it’s been many years since you cried, a tear slips down your cheek. “I don’t want to kill him, if I could save him instead.”
“Then we shall not kill him,” you say. “When the Symbol of Fear comes to us, we will face him together. You will not need your sword.”
“But –”
“Your sword has done what it needed to do. It brought you this far,” you tell him. Izuku nods slowly. “Now your heart must lead you.”
Izuku’s heart must lead him, as your heart has always led you. As Tenko’s heart, what remains of it, leads him home.
You know when the Symbol of Fear reaches the forest, because the refugees who have settled there begin to flee inwards. Once, armies rode with him, but they long since turned against him, fought him or fled. Now only a few dark magicians ride at his side, each bearing their own wound that will not heal. That has not healed yet, you remind yourself, as the flowers sing to you of their coming. There is always a chance for healing.
You had feared you would lose pieces of the forest to the corruption as Shigaraki Tomura traveled through it, either to his purposeful efforts or to the dark magic grown into them, reverting to its original purpose. But you had not counted on life, on hope. Growing alongside the darkness has made your forest resilient, has made it wily and strong. Although the corruption sinks into the earth with every step Shigaraki Tomura takes, it spreads no further.
When he’s close, but not yet within sight of the ruins, he comes to a stop. You sense him there, even if the flowers were not whispering of it, and when you realize where he’s stopped, your heart lifts. You rise to your feet, and Izuku scrambles up, too. “Is it time?”
“Yes,” you say. “Remember what we spoke of.”
“I remember,” Izuku says – but still, he brings along his sword.
You hear their voices before you see them. “Why are we stopped?” one says irritably. “The heart of the forest lies beyond.”
“Give him time,” another says. “Perhaps something important lies here.”
“What could be important? This place has been abandoned for a hundred years.”
Longer, unless you’ve mistaken your count of mortal time. It would appear abandoned to their eyes. You come into view of your old cottage just as a shadowy, white-haired figure steps out of it. In his hand, he clutches a striped carnation. “That flower was cut recently,” one of the dark magicians observes. “Someone still dwells there.”
“No.” Shigaraki’s voice is painful to hear, because it’s Tenko’s voice, pierced through with shards of glass and dragged over rough stones. “This has been here for a long time.”
“How do you know?”
“It’s magic, silly,” a female voice says. “It’s – oh!”
You don’t see what startled her, but Izuku must, because he neglects his feet and snaps a twig. The sound echoes sharply, and Shigaraki Tomura’s head snaps up, and as you meet his red eyes for the first time in hundreds of years, you’re overcome with feelings you couldn’t describe even if you had all the flowers in the world to spell them out.
He’s terrifying to behold. Wreathed in darkness shot through with bloodred, his hair long and wild, his face scarred. His hand is missing a few fingers and his stance is uneven, as though he’s prepared at any moment to lunge into battle or topple to his knees. The corruption writhes beneath his skin. His lips are dry and cracked, and as he studies you, his mouth splits into a smile more horrific than Tenko ever wore. Still, he bleeds the same.
“I saw the fairy-story written in the flowers,” he says. “You must be its author.”
“I am.” You incline your head. “What did you think?”
“Foolish.” The corruption has ahold of Shigaraki’s jaw, making it move awkwardly. “I never trifle with such useless things.”
“The language of flowers is long forgotten,” you say. “When did you learn to read it?”
“When did you?”
“I’ve always understood them,” you say. “You were the one who taught me to read.”
For a moment, you believe you see him falter; then he lets the striped carnation fall, and draws his sword. “This forest resists our efforts, and you willed it to life. Our position will be much improved when I kill you.”
“Kill me if you must.” You stay Izuku’s hand as he reaches for his sword. “First, I must show you something. Come with me.”
Putting your back to Shigaraki is dangerous, but he remembered enough for the cottage to stymie him. Maybe he remembers enough for this. You let Izuku walk ahead of you when the path narrows, and soon enough, you’re standing in the same field where you first met Hana and Tenko. “Do you remember this?” you ask. He looks blankly at you. “Then this, perhaps. The first flower I ever brought to you.”
“Acacia,” the Lord of Evil says after a long pause. “For friendship.”
You keep walking. A glance over your shoulder shows you that the dark magicians are inspecting the field, trying to divine the magic that made it what it is. Shigaraki Tomura marks your steps closely. “You are an illusionist,” he accuses. “This place was ruined long ago.”
“What does your heart tell you?” you ask, and he scoffs. “Do not tell me you have no heart. I hear it beating.”
His hand rises to his chest, rubs at it as though he’s in pain. “You should be more frightened than you are. I intend to corrupt this place so thoroughly that nothing will grow here ever again.”
“You will have a hard time with that,” you say. “It’s happened before.”
The flowers are descendants of the first flowers you woke out the ground, but the trees are old enough to have survived the corruption. You show the Symbol of Fear the veins of assimilated dark magic running through their trunks and in the veins of their leaves. He scoffs. “You call this healing?”
“What happened cannot be forgotten,” you say. “But life continues. It can grow. It can be good once more.”
You keep walking, Izuku at your side, the Symbol of Fear following, and his allies following further behind. “You are a fool,” the Symbol says to you. You ignore him, and he changes targets. “And you, brat. We’ve fought before. What nonsense has she filled your head with, to make you stay your hand?”
“I do not stay my hand,” Izuku says. “I promised I would try her way first.”
As far as answers Izuku could have given, it could be worse. You stop walking and turn to face the Symbol of Fear, who barely stops walking in time to avoid knocking you over. It was otherwise the first time you met, and based on the expression that flickers briefly across his face, he recalls it, too. For a moment, the shadows seem to lift, and you see the man Tenko’s become beneath them. If you die today, as well you might, at least you saw him one last time before the end.
On the walk to the old house, you pluck flowers from the ground, collecting every flower you remember Tenko reading aloud to you, every flower he offered. Marigold, everlasting, evergreen thorn; alyssum, amaranth, ambrosia; a bouquet that makes no sense save as part of a story. The flowers hum to you, and when you check over your shoulder again, you see the female magician picking a few flowers of her own, passing them to the others. For study, you think, until you see her tuck hers behind her ear. Oak-leaf geranium – true friendship.
“Your friends are young,” you say to the Symbol of Fear. “Their wounds are fresh compared to yours.”
“They could still be healed,” the Symbol of Fear says. You sense Izuku’s eyes darting between the two of you, shocked into silence. “If you heal them, and keep them here, perhaps I will leave this place untouched.”
“You know better than to think you can do that,” you say. “This is still your home.”
“It was never home,” the Demon King insists, and yet, he keeps walking. “Why do you delay the inevitable?”
“I do not delay,” you say. You pluck one last flower, round one last turn. “This is what I wished to show you.”
The Shimura house was destroyed down to its foundations, the earth turned hot and poisonous, such that nothing would grow there again. It took you a long time to work the darkness free of it, and longer still to coax seeds to take root there. Longer than that, even, for them to grow tall, and when they grew, their branches formed the outline of the house that once stood here, without your knowledge or your will to guide them. Shigaraki stops cold, stares. The shadows that surround him writhe and whirl in your peripheral vision. “It’s still here.”
“It’s not as it once was,” you admit, “but it is still here. And so am I.”
“I am not.” Tenko’s voice is rough and bitter. When you turn to face him, you find the shadows peeling back, enough to see his scarred mouth, a glimpse of his cheek. “There is nothing left of me but horror.”
“I don’t believe you,” you say. “And even if I did –”
You meant to give the bouquet to him whole, but you change your mind. Instead you pluck a single flower from it and hold it out. “Do you remember this one?”
The shadows begin to creep over his mouth, but he raises the hand with the missing fingers and claws them away. They attack his hand instead, and you see them biting into his skin. Izuku sees, too. He draws his sword. Tenko speaks in that same rough voice. “Stock flower,” he says. “You will always –”
He breaks off, staring at you. “You will always be beautiful to me,” you complete the sentence. “You’re home now, Tenko. Let me help you.”
“I can’t.” Tenko loses his grip on the shadows, and they swarm back over his face, leaving his hands raw and bleeding. “It won’t let me.”
You reach for him, but Izuku stays your hand. He steps forward, sword drawn, and looks into Tenko’s eyes. “It’s my task to save others from you,” he says. “But I see before me someone who needs saving just as much.”
“There is no salvation for me,” the Symbol of Fear says. The shadows are consuming Tenko’s body. You can see it. “Only destruction. Yours, and everyone’s.”
Izuku’s grip on the hilt of his sword tightens, and your heart seizes with it at the thought that all is lost. A twig snaps behind you, and when you look around, you see that while most have fled, some of the refugees have been drawn in to witness. The Symbol’s magicians are poised for a fight in turn – and rather than stepping forward with a swing of his sword, Izuku speaks. “What afflicts you? Show me.”
For a moment, all is still and silent – or it must be, to all but you. The flowers hum and the trees breathe in and out, and the people who stand amongst them swarm and throb with life in their turn. You feel the unevenness of those who are wounded, the fog that surrounds those who are sick at heart. Tenko’s companions are both, and so is he. You see it for a split second, when he tears himself free of the shadow entirely and casts it aside.
It wounds him. You see skin rip, blood spurt. But the corruption is gone from him, separated completely for the smallest of moments. Within that moment, there’s more than enough time for Izuku’s enchanted sword to decapitate it where it stands.
The corruption does not die cleanly. It screams, a sound that shreds your eardrums and makes the flowers mute, a sound that the rest experience only as a gust of rotting wind. Even in pieces, it still lives. Tenko’s magicians cast their spells upon it, breaking it apart again, but it’s Tenko who delivers the blow that scatters it to near-nothingness for good. You’ve never seen Tenko’s magic, corrupted or otherwise. It’s snow-sky grey, the way his eyes once were, and its touch is softer than you thought it would be. Under his power, the corruption dissolves into pieces your forest was born to absorb.
The forest is Tenko’s, too. You know by the way it bends towards him as he falls, the life within it surging to meet him. One of the dark magicians races forward to catch him, and you catch him, too. The two of you lower him to the earth together.
Tenko is terribly wounded. The corruption tore away pieces of his flesh as he pulled free, and his magic is overtaxed. Even if none of those things were true, his body is still rent by old wounds and poorly healed scars. To survive this will ask a great deal from him. All your skill and power will mean nothing if he does not wish to live on. You touch your best friend’s face for the first time since he left you, heal a split of his lip with a single trace of your finger, and pray that he will try.
His magicians have surrounded you, Izuku shoved thoroughly to one side. The magician who caught Tenko with you meets your eyes, his features contorted with fear and confusion. “Will he live?”
“He may,” you say. “Time will tell.”
The corruption no longer lives in this world, but its effects remain, and there are lesser wounds, lesser evils, that abound. There is only so far your forest can spread by your own will. At some point, others must take on the task alongside you. Those who wish to return their homes carry seeds and saplings from the forest with them. Wherever they plant them, they will grow alongside the darkness, and grow strong.
One day, you’ll walk past the edges of the forest and see things for yourself, but that is a long time away. You determined to renew this place for Tenko, should he ever choose to come home. It took a long time to heal, and so will he. So will his friends, with their own wounds and sorrows, but time is something you have in abundance.
“I studied magic,” Tenko tells you as you lay on your backs in the grass, staring up at the sky through a canopy of leaves and a scattering of clouds. “It’s not meant to do this.”
He gestures at the two of you, using the hand that’s missing two fingers. You take his hand, raise it to your lips and kiss it. “What do you mean?”
“It should not have cast us out of time,” Tenko says. “Magicians live and die like anyone else. Or at least they should.”
“I never studied magic,” you admit. “Perhaps I broke some rule in renewing this place. I don’t know.”
“If you had broken a rule, you’d feel it,” Tenko mumbles. You glance over at him and find him grimacing. “I feel it daily.”
You’ve heard tell of the terrible things Tenko did in the throes of the corruption, and what you haven’t heard in tales, he’s told you himself. You know what it cost him. “Does it itch or hurt? Or ache?”
“Today it aches. Like the cold of a grave.” Tenko edges closer to you, and you close the gap until you’re lying in each other’s arms once more. “You need not use magic to make me feel better. I always felt better with you, even when we were children.”
When the two of you lie this close, it’s always an effort not to fall asleep. It’s as if your body intends to make up for the centuries of nights lost as quickly as possible, even in the middle of the day. You kiss Tenko’s hand again and burrow a little closer against his side. “This is where we always met up,” you say. “It took me a long time to make it grow again. What do you think?”
“It’s different,” Tenko says. His hand turns in yours, holding it securely against his heart. “But it feels the same as before.”
The two of you lie there for a while in silence, and you cast your mind out, seeking the edge of your forest, seeking the saplings and sprouts that have been planted far past its boundaries. Someday, when the world has long forgotten Shigaraki Tomura, you and Tenko will venture out to visit them. You’ve spent so long in your small corner of the world. You’d like to see more of it. And you know Tenko would like to see it with unclouded eyes.
The corruption may be gone, but it haunts him still. His body rattles sometimes with the memory of pain, or else his skin crawls at the phantom sensation of a force outside himself, peeling up his skin and making him itch. Sometimes, when his body rebels, he drowns himself in you. Other times, he can hardly bear to be touched. It frustrates him, more so for the fact that he thinks it frustrates you. It doesn’t. You know better than anyone else that healing takes time.
“We were always here,” Tenko says aloud, after a long time. You nod into his shoulder. “I always asked you what the flowers were saying about me.”
“I always thought it was funny that you never asked me to teach you.”
“I was worried I couldn’t,” Tenko says. “And I knew you’d tell me the good things.”
You laugh. Tenko’s voice takes on a hesitant note. “What are they saying now?”
“They say that I love you, and that you love me.”
“I do.” Tenko’s cheek is flushed when you kiss it, and he turns his head for a longer kiss, too. “What else do they say?”
You tell him, in between kisses, as life continues around you – a life that looks different than it did before, a life that will never be the same. A life that has changed, and still a life worth saving. A life worth living, too. You and Tenko are a long way from an ending, if one even exists for the two of you. But if you were to close the tale here, you know you could call it a happy one.
#shigaraki x reader#shigaraki x you#tomura shigaraki x reader#tomura shigaraki x you#shigaraki tomura x reader#shigaraki tomura x you#shimura tenko x reader#shimura tenko x you#tenko shimura x reader#tenko shimura x you#x reader#reader insert#man door hand hook car door#a bisquared production
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tomura likes to just watch you. in a creepy but also not so creepy way.
and it doesn't have to be anything special, he's perfectly okay just watching you write something down for your classes or you scrolling on your phone or something and he'd be perfectly fine just looking at you from your bed. although he usually prefers hogging your work chair because it accommodates the nasty slouch i just know he has.
one leg crossed and even his head resting on his fist as he almost admires you. he doesn't look particularly pleased, but trust me he is. there's just something so intriguing about you just being you to him. and he won't say anything either, never expect him to. not even if you stare at him excepting a response he'll just look right back. unblinking. at most after an intense little staring session he'll croak out a "..what ?" and if you ask him what he's looking at he'll just shrug, tell you to "just keeping doing whatever you we're doing just now." and keep staring like a creepazoid.
#first ever tomura blurb thing :D#i actually love him yall#i like i love his oozing loser energy#like katsukis my loser but tomura is just#a different breed of loser and i love him for it#tomura x reader#shigaraki tomura#tomura x you#tomura x y/n#tomura shigaraki x reader#shigaraki x reader#shigaraki x you#shigaraki x y/n#shigaraki tomura x reader#shigaraki tomura x you#tomura shigaraki x you#shimura tenko x reader#tenko shimura x reader
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warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, fem!reader, toxic relationship, tomura’s just playing with your pussy tbh words: 441
ever since you started fucking, tomura has developed an irritating little habit.
irritating, because it is unintentionally teasing. irritating, because he refuses to fuck you without performing this little ritual first.
kneeling between your spread thighs, his palm curls around the base of his cock, holding it steady as he caresses your slit with the head—back and forth, back and forth, easily gliding over your swollen clit, now slicked with your arousal and his pre-cum. he almost burrows the head into your folds, his eyes shimmering with awe, breath exhaled through parted lips in little pants, mouth licked raw and glazed with saliva, watching as your lips cling to him, try to pull him closer, to suck him in, delicate skin bulging while he slides his cock along it again.
his skin is flushed and hard and glittering so prettily in the dim light, coated with you, coated with you both, the tip just barely dipping into your hole on his stroke up, snagging on it slightly.
he’s fascinated by your body, by what he can do to your body, by the way your little cunt clenches in response when he rubs the head in slow, hard circles, then in fast, light motions, another little dribble of slick oozing out of it—another rush of heat to your core, another flame left to smoulder beneath his titillation.
it enchants him, the way his head skipping over your engorged clit sends bolts rippling through your flesh, chased by a wave of chills.
it enraptures him, the way your pelvis rolls up as his tip catches on your hole again, trying to fuck him into you, your sweet whine of frustration met with a self-satisfied chuckle.
“don’t be greedy,” he tells you, even as he defies his own order, selfishly stretching time as he plays with you, grinding the slit of his head into your clit. “you’ll get my cock when i’m ready to give it to you.”
there’s an implicit threat sewn into his singsong tone; behave, or you won’t get anything at all.
and so you still, like the good little girl you are, and let him have his fun, marvelling at your cunt as if it’s the first time all over again, sending tiny flares of pleasure searing through your veins, sparking hot cinders in the pit of your stomach to a dull glow, desperate to catch flame.
but he’ll never get sick of this, he swears it, he’s breathing as he finally pushes in, ill-prepped cunt straining around his girth, his gaze glued to your conjoined bodies. your body was fucking made for him, he’s sure of it.
#shigaraki tomura x reader#shigaraki tomura smut#shigaraki tomura x you#shigaraki smut#shigaraki x you#bnha smut#mha smut#tomura shigaraki x reader#tomura shigaraki x you#tomura shigaraki headcanons#flawless au
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Cat and mouse
synopsis: Your ex boyfriend has some nerve texting you at three in the morning — an entire week after the disaster breakup you had. You should really go over there and give him a piece of your mind. Well, you know what they say about famous last words. wc: 6.1k | crossposted to ao3 content: tomura shigaraki x female reader, no quirks au, toxic tomura, reader is kinda toxic too tbh, unhealthy relationships, breaking up and making up, vaginal fingering, overstim, breeding kink, piv, dubcon creampie, degredation, threats of baby trapping, hurt/comfort, sweet at the end idc
You’ve told your friends time and time again to stay out of your business. They never listen.
���Oh my god, Kirishima? Is he even twenty yet?” You drag as you watch your friend flip through several pictures of the redheaded boy like he was a member of the bachelor.
She smiles, scrolling her phone for more options, “no, but he will be in a couple of months!”
“No!” Your words are sharp. You love Mina but god, you don’t want her to play matchmaker with you. It’s not like you’re a charity case or something.
She gasps and you swear you could see the lightbulb go off above her head. “What about Denki? He’s fun!”
You groan, falling back onto the bed and covering your eyes with your arm. “Mina.”
“Hey, just give her a break okay? It’s only been about a week.” Your saving grace Yaoyorozu speaks up and it’s nice to finally have someone on your side.
“Thank you.”
“Seriously? So we’re just going to sit around and watch you mope about all day?” Mina questions, irritation clear in her voice and it grates your ears.
“Preferably, yes! Just let me be.” You roll over, face officially shoved into your pillow. It’s been a rough couple of days and you haven’t gotten a single call or text from Tomura. Not that you should be expecting one. You broke up with him after all.
It’s just.. this time feels different. Usually there’s more arguing and he’s fighting for you to stay around, but this time there was nothing. No quips, no insults, just “fine, get out then.”
That hurt the most.
You had no idea what he was up to.
Maybe he was as depressed as you were.
Maybe he’s found someone else.
The thought makes you stop in your tracks. The idea of Tomura, your tomura with someone else is enough to make you nauseous.
You jump to your feet and rush to the bathroom, locking yourself in and falling to your knees.
God, what if that was why it was so easy?
You pull out your phone, the device lighting up and unlocking with your facial id.
Tomura doesn’t use social media much but you could still check to see if he’d blocked you.
To your surprise, he hadn’t.
He hasn't posted anything either and there’s no new person in his followers.
You feel yourself exhale a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. No change is a good thing.
There’s knocking on the door and you thank the stars you locked it. Your friends would judge you so hard if they saw you lurking through your ex’s social media.
“Hey, are you okay in there?” It’s your saving grace Yaoyorozu again and you almost feel bad for shutting her out.
“Yeah, I’m sorry if it feels like I pressured you! I’ll give you some space.” Mina's regretful voice calls and it makes your heart clench. You know she means well but she just doesn’t understand. None of them do.
Whether you want to admit it or not, you love Tomura.
Yes, you argue and yes, you fight, but he just gets you. He’s so cynical, but so caring — in his own special way. Too bad he was such an asshole. The argument wasn’t even supposed to go that far.
There are tears beginning to blur your vision and you wipe them away, willing the feelings down and standing to your feet.
If he wanted you to stay away, then fine. You could do that.
You splash cool water onto your face and take a breath, steeling yourself and getting ready to face your friend once more. It was Saturday and they were convinced you needed a fun girl’s night.
It takes a lot to refrain from cringing at the phrase, but you believe they held some truth with the idea. You definitely didn’t want to be alone right now.
You unlock the bathroom door, meeting Mina and Yaoyorozu’s worried expressions with a smile.
“We should probably get ready now, huh?”
Mina’s eyes light up, smile blinding and excitement contagious.
“Yes! Jirou and the others are here now.” She starts to clap, excitement buzzing around her, “Girl’s night is going to be amazing!”
—-
Girl’s night was a bust.
The moment everyone arrived the apartment quickly filled with chaos. Noisy and busy, it was all giving you a headache. Until someone decided it would be a good idea to pregame before going out.
In preparation for the night your friend’s insisted that you get dolled up, hair makeup and skimpy clothes you wouldn’t look twice at on any normal day.
You had to admit it made you a little more excited to get out and at least feel like your world isn't crashing around you. It was supposed to be a fun little night out. Somehow one drink turned into two, which turned into three which turned into Mina swearing she could beat everyone in a dance battle.
The group only got more riled up as everyone indulged in this silly challenge.
One challenge leads to another, which leads to more drinking, which then ends in everyone being too drunk to function and knocking out — all laid out in odd places around your living room floor and couch.
The groggy feeling came first, your arms radiating in dull pain as you vaguely recalled trying to beat Mina in a contest of who could do the most push ups. It sure as hell wasn't you, but the drunk version of you thought it was possible to move mountains.
You blink a few times, trying to will your eyes to rapidly adjust to the darkness of the room and find out what this odd buzzing noise beside you had been. Turning over, you find your phone, squinting as the too bright screen lights up your face and you see that it is three a.m.
You had fallen asleep with everyone else.
The phone buzzes again, lighting up and you have to squint further to read the contact name.
Tomura.
Your eyes widen as you scan over the three texts he’s sent you.
Wasting no time, you rush to your feet and into the bathroom so you can look at your phone without the chance of prying eyes overlooking your shoulder. Even though they were probably going to be out until late morning.
Tomura’s messages were short, no paragraphs, no essays but three different messages sent in succession.
When are you coming to get your shit?
I’m tired of waiting.
And I’m deleting our farm btw.
The first two messages don’t get much of a reaction from you, especially since it’s three a.m and he knows you’re usually asleep around this time.
But the third message…
Your Stardew Valley farm that you’ve had and worked on together for almost two years being put on the line and threatened? What the fuck was his problem?
This farm was a constant in your relationship. Throughout the ups and downs and back and forths. You were sure that hell would freeze over before you both would give up that progress. But here he is, threatening you while you would have been asleep. What an asshole.
Your feet are moving before your brain can stop them and you make your way to the front door. Since your friends were all passed out it would be easy to sneak over to Shigaraki’s place, give him a piece of your mind and then sneak back. In and out, quick and easy.
Your decision is made and you grab your coat, deciding to just go over there as you are. You hadn’t changed out of your outfit that was supposed to be for the night out, but it didn’t matter. You only needed to get over there and get there fast.
Once you arrive at Tomura’s doorstep you waste no time knocking. It’s around three in the morning so he should still very much be awake.
There's a chill in the air as you wait for his answer and you wrap your jacket closer to your body. A rumble of thunder caught your attention and it's then you notice the rain clouds rolling in. You knew it would only be a matter of time before the bottom of the sky falls out and rain drenches everything. You were on borrowed time if you wanted to make it back before then.
After what feels like forever the door finally opens, revealing a very cozy pajama-clad Tomura, who seemed a little too pleased for his own good — if that sly smile he was doing a bad job at hiding was anything to go by.
You don't give him a chance to greet you or say anything for that matter, stopping his words in their tracks as you cut him off. “What do you want?”
He doesn’t bother hiding his smirk now, the expression making your fists clench and your anger boil. “What do I want? You’re at my door, in front of my apartment.” He scoffs, clearly getting the exact reaction he had wanted from you, “I should be asking what do you want?”
Caught like a deer in headlights. Whatever, you don't let that stop you as you pull out your phone to show him his text. “You sent this, I know you’re bluffing. What do you want?”
Tomura shrugs, leaning against his door frame and giving you a pleased look. Expression relaxed and content. Not a care in the world. “To talk.”
“Well, I'm here now, so let’s talk.” You spit, crossing your arms and waiting for whatever else he would throw at you.
“Sure, but you should come in first.” He starts, looking up towards the darkened sky, confirming his assessment. “It’s gonna rain soon, you know.”
Of course you knew that.
You just didn’t want to give him more time than you had. But you agree and go in, ignoring the fighting feeling in the back of your mind screaming at you to turn away and hightail it out of there.
Tomura’s home is the exact way it was the day you left, give or take a few more containers of takeout littered around the place. You have half a mind to scold him about it, but quickly remember that it isn’t your place to do that anymore.
So instead you stay quiet, following him into the apartment and into the living room. Opting to stand as he sat, and resisted the urge to get comfortable.
“So, what do you want to talk about?” You try, done watching him pick up a controller and boot up a video game. Seriously?
Your patience was wearing thin now as you watched him ignore you to play some stupid game. You try calling to him again, knowing this was probably a waste of your time and groans.
“I was in the middle of something before you got here. Let me finish and we’ll talk.” It's flippant the way he waves you off and continues the game. The lack of care only hurting your feelings further and making you realize this may have all been a big mistake on your part.
You shouldn’t be at your ex boyfriend’s house being ignored. You should be at your house getting drunk and hanging out with your best friends. There was no reason to stay somewhere you’re obviously not valued.
It’s a simple choice when you put it into perspective.
But things are always easier said than done.
You sigh, the air puffing out your cheeks, a bad habit you had when angry, and walk right in front of Tomura’s TV. There was more satisfaction in making him lose the game and then announcing your departure than just leaving quietly.
He cranes his neck to see around you, but it doesn’t work, finally giving up as his character inevitably dies. “What!?”
“I’m leaving!” You announced, turning on your heel and heading towards the front door.
“You had to make me lose first? I said I was almost done!” He spat back, rising from the couch to follow you.
You shrug, “I don’t care. Why invite me in if you’re just going to ignore me?”
“Didn’t think you had the patience of a child.'' Tomura stands in front of you, cutting through your path and stopping you in your tracks.
It's almost comical the way he insults you. “Okay pot, meet kettle.” You try to brush past him, but he side steps with you.
“What are you dressed like that for anyway? Did you go out tonight or something?”
“No!” You deny, a little louder than intended and then pause. “But it’s none of your business what I do anyway.”
Tomura hums at this, taking the words in and running them through his mind as he gives you a once over, eyes scanning from the too-tight shirt you wore — showing a generous amount of cleavage, down to your mini skirt that left little to the imagination.
“Could've fooled me.”
“What do you mean by that?” You hate when he gives you cryptic answers, like it’s impossible to pry into his mind to see what he was thinking at the moment.
“You knew you were coming to see me so I dont get why you're wearing that skimpy shit. Unless you wanted me to check you out.”
“Not everything is about you, Tomura. Maybe I just wanted to dress up and look nice.”
“Bullshit—”
“God, Tomura you always fucking do this!” You yell, walking right up into his face. The excitement in his scarlet eyes sends a chill up your spin, but you can’t back down.
He gets closer, matching your tone and you can still see the grin he’s trying to hide. It makes you see red. “Do what? Tell you the truth? You know I’m not wrong.”
“Yeah, you think you know everything, but you don’t. I’m dressed up because I want to be, not because of you.” You’re insisting at this point, frustration threatening to tip over and spill out into the form of another pointless argument. Why did you think you could actually come over and have a decent conversation with him?
Tomura is a master at getting under your skin and hitting where it hurts. In all of your arguments he’s never really pulled out the big shots but you wouldn’t put it past him to do so now.
“Oh, so you come over to my place dressed like a slut and you expect me to believe you don’t have some hidden motive?”
And there it is.
Your last straw. He could be so egotistical and mean — you’ve had it.
You regret it the moment you do it, but your body moves before your brain can process your actions. You push Tomura. Hard.
He doesn’t fall back far but you know it’s enough to piss him off. And he’s never been one to hold anything back, so he shoves you back and your back hits the wall.
Tomura has you pinned before you know it and there’s a thrill that runs through your body in a way you know you shouldn’t be feeling. Your knees feel weak for reasons that are not related to fear and your panties were gradually becoming more wet.
His voice is low and his eyes are narrowed as he pins you against the wall, pressing your cheeks together with his other hand. “You’re really starting to piss me off.”
You have to bite back a smile, knowing this has taken a turn and you aren’t strong enough to stop where it’s going. Not that you would want to.
“Oh yeah? If I piss you off so badly then why are you hard?”
He doesn’t look down. He can feel his own arousal just as well as you can while it’s pressed against your abdomen.
Tomura pushes off of you — maintaining some distance as he turns away.
“You’re fucking annoying.”
“Sure am.” You supply, chipper and certain as you trail behind him.
He’s walking further into the apartment, and you follow. Legs moving on their own accord as you go further into the lion's den, exchanging quips and insults. You jab your finger into his shoulder, bothered by the way he continues to ignore you, it's a pathetic attempt at catching his attention and it works. Kind of.
The only response being him slapping your hand away with a glare and muttering a soft fuck off as he walked on.
You both went back and forth. Like the sun and moon, you just can’t stay away from each other.
It was how these things usually went between you and Tomura. He would start up, make a petty argument and you would never back down. Tomura is someone who was used to getting his way and others simply did what he said with no objections.
But that was not how you were.
And he loved it.
You knew by the way he would get that devious glimmer in his eye when you would challenge a point, starting up a debate. Sometimes they were heated enough to make you both break up. It never lasted more than a few days. A week being the longest.
Push and pull.
Tomura made his way past you again, ignoring your calls about how you hate being ignored. At this point you’re sure he’s doing it on purpose to rile you up more but you can’t help but take the bait. You grab his shoulder, forcing him to turn around and face you as you point a finger in his face.
“Stop walking away from me!”
He grabs your wrist and pulls you closer, making you stumble on your feet and almost lose balance. You were so close you could feel the heat from his body and smell the fresh linen scent of his shirt. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
You snatch your wrist away from him, tension between you two growing hotter by the second as the space between you got thinner.
“What are you going to do about it?”
The narrowing of his eyes only made your grin grow wider as you watched the gears turn in his head as he thought about just how many things he would do about it. All of it enticed you, so you beat him to the punch.
You reach forward again, fully intending to shove his shoulder again for another reaction, another glare, maybe even more words, but he stops you. It was fast, the way you both tumbled through the hallway as Tomura crashed his lips to yours. The relief of finally feeling his lips again meshed with the excitement of how rough he was with you.
You lose yourself in the kiss, welcoming him in with open arms as you vaguely register the dark walls of his room and posters plastered along the walls in your scuffle.
It was exciting, probably the best part of breaking up and making up. At this point you think the whole point of falling apart is coming back together again. An endless cycle where the reward is worth the punishment.
Cat and mouse.
You end up on top of him, straddling his hips while your smug smile beams down at him. Tomura gives you an unamused look in return, yet the way his hands rested on your thighs gave away the ill hidden interest. It was all the encouragement you needed as you leaned down, hovering above him with both hands on his chest.
“Not so tough now, are you?”
It’s bait. You know it’s bait, he knows it’s bait, but he takes it anyway — the way you knew he would.
Tomura wastes no time flipping the both of you over, quickly reversing your positions as he settled himself between your legs. It’s dangerous the way his actions riled you up further, and you have to bite your lip to keep the smile from betraying your false anger. You couldn’t let him know how excited you were to be back in his bed.
He presses your cheeks together and rocks your head left to right, tone mocking and eyes wild with fever, “Oh, look who’s become a firecracker all of the sudden. Where did that flame come from, huh?”
You want to respond, but Tomura beats you to it, releasing your cheeks and pointing a nimble finger against your forehead, “Don’t be dumb.”
His eyes trail from yours and then down to your lips, then finally down to your exposed cleavage. The movement was swift as he cupped one of your breasts in his hand and dipped down, claiming your lips again. It was softer than the first time but not by much, especially not when he matched his pace by grinding his clothed erection into you, making you moan at the contact.
Your skirt was so short and it made you feel even more exposed than you already were. Tomura had easy access to you and the thin fabric of your panties made everything feel so much closer.
You moan at the contact, swiping your tongue against Tomura’s bottom lip and wasting no time deepening the kiss as you pull him closer. You needed more and you needed it as soon as possible.
Tomura pulled the low cut front of your shirt down, easily exposing your breasts from the confines of the shirt and massaged them, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles against your nipples and making you cry out from the sensitivity.
He pulls away from you, eyes gazing into yours and you swore in that moment he put you in a trance. Tomura’s ruby red gaze always left you mesmerized and you can’t help the whimper that leaves your lips, brows furrowed and eyes wanting, “Please.”
“Please what?” And he’s not taunting you, he’s not mocking you. His eyes are soft as he brings a hand to your cheek. “Tell me what you want.”
“You.” Fuck, you’ve missed him. “I just want you.”
There’s a hint of a smile on his face as he strokes your cheek, soft look in his eyes making your heart flutter, and then it’s gone. Replaced by a hardened gaze as he moves to remove your shirt and bra, fully exposing you to his hungry eyes, and then moves to remove your short skirt.
His hands hover there for a moment, debating whether or not he should keep it on and fuck you in it, but then decides against the idea and pulls it off, taking your soaked panties down with it as well.
The air in the room feels cool against your skin as you shiver in anticipation.
“Fuck,” Tomura whispers, now eye level with your cunt. You gasp as he runs two fingers between your wet folds and holds the digits up to show you. Syrupy clear slick clung to them, slowly trailing down as Tomura rose back up, eye level with you once more.
“You’re so wet…” He murmured, bringing the digits to your mouth and you opened, taking them into your mouth and tasting yourself. You kept eye contact as you watched his eyes widen in delight — Tomura loved it when you put on a show for him.
There’s another moment of Tomura pressing against your tongue with his fingers and then he pulls them out, opting for a kiss in exchange, his tongue dipping into your mouth and groaning as he could taste what’s left of your slick on you as well.
The pleasant feeling and linguid action of your movements made your shoulders relax as you practically melted into his soft bed, the feeling of his body above yours bringing you mountains of comfort. It was a distraction, of course.
You felt the same two of Tomura’s fingers prod at your slick entrance before pressing in fully and all the way down to the knuckle. The stretch was intense but the pressure was euphoric, making you squeeze your eyes shut and grip him closer.
He didn’t make you wait long as he pumped his fingers, quickly finding that sensitive spot so deep inside of you that only he could pinpoint and brushing against it over and over.
The feeling was so good it made you pull away from the kiss to breathe, thighs twitching and toes curling in pleasure. You wouldn’t last long like this.
“Tomura, fuck..!” You moaned, drowning in ecstasy as he continued his abuse of your spot, never letting up or slowing down, aiming to make you cum as quickly as he could. It was obvious he wanted you to come undone as soon as possible by the way he watched your every expression.
The way your brows furrowed to the way you bit your lip. Tomura eagerly drank every expression and gave it back to you in the form of pleasure.
“What?” He started, unphased by your dilemma, “Gonna cum?”
It took a lot of focus and effort, but you nod — done with fighting for the night and accepting the fact that you will come apart quickly. So you give in to the pleasure.
Tomura smiles, a devious grin splitting his features as he curls his fingers, hitting the spot one more time for good measure and you lose composure, your climax crashing into you like a tidal wave. There was nothing you could do besides ride the feeling while holding on to Tomura tight — like you would get swept away if you didn’t.
He fucks you through it with his fingers, eyes never leaving your face as you come down from your high.
“Pent up, huh?” He questions, and this time there is that little hint of teasing. It brings you back to reality.
Yes, you have been pent up. You haven’t been able to get off to anything since you’ve broken up and it’s been hell.
You have no time for the games, you just want him and you want him now.
So, you take Tomura’s face in your hands, making him look you in the eyes. The flecks of black in his carmine eyes always makes you remember why you come back. Every single time.
“Fuck me, please, Tomura.” It's soft and filled with desire that you cannot be bothered to hide, and Tomura has never been one to deny you.
He quickly discards his own clothes, making sure to not stay away from you for long. His cock is hard and leaking precum from the head as he strokes it in preparation. You feel giddy at the thought and watch as he slides the head of his cock between your folds, coating it with your slick, and rubbing against your clit. The action makes your hips twitch up towards him.
He loves to tease and make you wait, but today he doesn’t make you wait long. Tomura leans down after lining himself up with your entrance and places his free hand behind your head, right above the nape of your neck. His hands were warm and the feeling of those hands cradling your head felt so comforting in the space of his familiar dark bedroom.
You bring a hand to his hair, tangling your fingers in his ashen locks as he pushes forward. The stretch makes you whimper and Tomura captures your lips in a kiss again, swallowing the noises and releasing a groan of his own as your walls tighten around his cock.
There's something about the way Tomura drags his hips, the way he starts off at a slow pace, winding you up as he steadily increases his speed and force. It happens so gradually that you don't realize you’re screaming his name until he tells you to shut up — threatening to cover your mouth because he didn't want his neighbors to hear how much of a slut you were.
It drove you mad the way he said it all with a smile and fucked you harder. Almost daring you to be louder so he can punish you with a hand over your mouth.
Tomura knew how rough you liked it and he always delivered, giving you back arching pleasure as he pounded into you. It leaves you gasping and struggling to keep your voice down. Your hands find the surface of his back, trying to hold on as much as you could with building pleasure on the horizon.
“Tomu— Tomura..! Please,” you cry and he doesn’t miss a beat, driving his cock so deep against your sweet spot it makes you see stars. “Fuck..!”
“Yeah, that’s it.” Tomura cooed, eyes filled with mischief as he brought you closer to the edge. “Cry for me.”
And you do, your body feeling euphoric as the feeling buzzed up your spine and filled your brain with the fuzz of ecstasy.
“What are you gonna do, huh?” He starts, his hips grinding against you, the closeness of his pelvis rubs against your clit, making you cry out again, “What are you gonna do when I breed this pretty cunt and make sure you’re stuck with me forever?”
He’s bluffing, you know Tomura doesn’t want kids. He’s just trying to gauge your reaction. Your dedication.
“Tomura…” You only moan, breath catching as he hits that spot inside you that he knows so well.
Tomura is smiling, wild and devious, as you look up at him with glossy eyes, so close to crying from the feelings, “I’m gonna do it. I’ll make you mine forever and you can’t do anything about it.”
“Ah!” You should stop him, tell him to calm down but he has your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your back arching off of the bed. Everything is blurring together and you can only slur words as the drool from your earlier kiss trails down your cheek.
You are completely at his mercy like this and you know your friends would be beyond disappointed.
It just feels so good the way his cock drags in and out of your body pulling moans and whines from your throat. He was relentless in the way he pounded into you — beyond the point of being soft and slow because he knows that’s exactly you like it.
“Say you want it.” The command comes with the slowing of his hips and you whine, high and needy as Tomura slows to a near stop.
“Tomura, I—“
“Say you want it or I swear to god I’ll stop right now.” It’s a threat and you don’t want to find out if he’ll go through with it. Tomura never goes back on his word.
“No, please, don’t— I want it!” you pant, frustrated and aching for more movement.
“I want you to,” you stammer, desperate to have your release. “I don’t care if you cum in me. I need you so bad.”
“That’s my girl,” He coos, dipping his head down onto your shoulder, “Fuck.. love you s’much”
You stop — you’ve never heard him say that. Ever. You doubted he would ever say it since it’s been so long.
He doesn’t give you a chance to ruminate on it because he's picking up the pace again and giving you the friction you were so deeply in need of. The feelings are swimming in your head as your cries reach new heights. Tomura is too far gone to stop you or care and you’re thankful. You couldn’t stop yourself if you tried.
The build of your orgasm crashes down and sends you with it, making your thighs quiver in pleasure and your eyes squeeze shut. Tomura’s mouth meets yours before you could cry out, the warmth of his tongue guiding you as he fucked you through it.
He didn’t last long after, the way your walls tightened around him with the force of your orgasm has Tomura’s pace erratic as he chased his own high.
The bed shook as Tomura finally finished, hips stuttered as he released inside of you, hot seed coating your insides and making heat rise to your cheeks. He really did it.
You watch as he slows to a stop above you, his eyes closed as he enjoys the feeling of release. Tomura’s breathing was heavy and you couldn’t stop yourself from bringing him down into another kiss, traveling from his lips to his cheeks and then back again.
It was intimate and you were worried it may have been too much, given the reason you were both in this situation was because of a stupid breakup.
Tomura’s pulls out of you, making you wince and taking the feeling of being so full away from you. He doesn’t go far, opting to stay on top of you and rest his head on your shoulder, wanting to keep you as close as possible.
“You really piss me off.” He mumbles into your shoulder, out of breath and tired. “God, why can’t you just stay with me.”
“Tomura…” Your hands run through his hair, the sweat is making it stick to his forehead as you wait for him to keep talking.
“Stop leaving me.” His voice is firm, unwavering.
“You told me to go.”
“I didn’t think you fucking would. I would never actually want you to.”
“I can’t read between the lines Tomura, I’m not in your head.” You make him look at you this time, pulling his hair a little to get him to raise his head. “Did you mean it?”
“I just said I didn’t—“
“No, the other thing you said.” He gives you a look of pure confusion and you lose a little bit of hope, “when you said you loved me?”
You stare into his carmine eyes, hoping, praying it wasn’t just pillow talk from the heat of the moment.
He looks at you for a long time, frustration still wearing on his features. If you didn’t know any better you would say he was pouting. “Of course I meant it. I’ve always felt like that.”
“But you’ve never said it!”
“I show it!”
“How?” This is getting frustrating and going in circles.
He groans, sitting up and taking his warmth with him. “I’m not going to sit here and list everything I’ve ever done for you. I don’t think it works like that.”
You open your mouth to counter, irritation on your tongue because that’s not what you meant, but Tomura stops you again.
“I don’t know how to explain it, okay?” He shakes his head and sighs, laying next to you on the bed and looking up at his ceiling. “It’s weird. I have these strong feelings, but it’s not hate, it's not anger. It's the opposite of that.”
You stare at him as he focuses ahead, keeping his eyes trained on the uninteresting ceiling above.
“Father said it’s a weakness and I should feel that way but,” There’s a pause as he looks away from the ceiling, meeting your eyes finally, “if it’s so weak of me, then why are the feelings so strong?”
Your heart aches. It's clear that he’s torn, and with the strange way he was raised you know that he can’t help the way he is.
“Tomura…”
“And it won’t go away. I can’t fight them down or push them away like I can with everything else. It eats me up and I… guess I lash out because of it.” He shakes his head and for the first time Tomura looks defeated. You’ve never seen him this way — he’s always been filled with confidence and self assured. “I just don’t know what to do.”
You bring a hand to his cheek as you press your forehead against his. It kills you that this is what’s been on his mind and you aren’t sure what you could do to fix it. Maybe there was nothing you could do, physically, but you would do your best to be there for him emotionally.
“Sometimes,” you try to be careful with your words, knowing how much Tomura looks up to his foster father even though the man has been nothing but strange to him. “People say things that aren’t true because they don’t know how to live with it.”
Tomura’s guardian cannot live with love nor the idea of it.
“That doesn't mean you have to live that way.”
And it’s the truth.
Tomura doesn’t say anything, just watches you with heavy lidded eyes, ruby red nearly glowing in the low light of the room. He was so much more than what people thought they knew of him and you didn’t care if it took time for others to see that.
He leans in, closing his eyes and you meet him halfway into a kiss.
It's warm and it's soft and you know that even when your phone is buzzing from dozens of missed calls and texts from your friends, it will be fine.
You and Tomura would take things one day at a time.
#shigaraki x reader#shigaraki tomura#shigaraki tomura x you#shigaraki tomura x reader#tomura x reader#mha x reader#my works#tomura shigaraki smut#shigaraki smut#shigaraki tomura smut#tomura shigaraki x reader#tomura shigaraki x you
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I don't know how to explain this but bear with me! Reader and Tomura have a dynamic of a popular girl who is secretly a total masochist and a nerdy incel guy who is a degenerate freak and gets off humiliating and degrading the reader. Not sure if that was coherent but it's been rotting my brain and I needed to share
♱ ˖ ࣪࿐ 𝒟𝐼𝒞𝐻𝒪𝒯𝒪𝑀𝒴 ؛ 𝓉𝑜𝓂𝓊𝓇𝒶 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝑔𝒶𝓇𝒶𝓀𝒾
𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 ؛ dubcon ノ noncon ノ quirkless au ノ college au ノ bullying ノ abuse ノ graphic violence ノ unhealthy relationship ノ blood ノ profanity
“Hey, Tomura.”
Blood-reds peer up at you through fluttery, moth-like lashes. Pale and silken like an angel’s. He tugs his headphones down to rest around his neck before setting his phone in his lap. “Yeah?”
“Can I ask you something?” You thumb a lock of hair behind your ear.
He’s dubious by the way your friends chitter behind you. Petite hands and manicured nails swat at each-other, hissing between smirks. His ankles uncross, planting themselves firmly on the ground as though in preparation. He winces through his response. “Yeah.”
“What’s wrong with your skin?”
You’ve barely finished your sentence before you’re doubling over with witchy cackles, the girls behind you following suite.
Tomura doesn’t find it funny at all, in-fact, he doesn’t even understand the joke. Dull nails rake at his protruding collarbone before sinking further into the pool of his hoodie, swimming nose deep in the black fabric. “I have a skin condition..”
A piggish voice squeals from behind you. “What’s it called? Not washing?”
He scowls, biting a scabbed-over chunk of blood from his lip, shrinking further into his hunched position in an attempt to make himself as small as possible, or as small as you can be after being picked apart by a bunch of snot-nosed bitches.
You get the last laugh as you strut off with your group, leaving him boiling with rage. Clutching his phone between a set of white knuckles and wringing the strap of his bag in the other. His palms split inside his fists, wretched and shaking with ire.
Of course, that was only the first of many instances.
He remembers on another account, when you’d pulled his hood down in-front of everyone and sneered in disgust at the powdered nest of matted white hidden beneath. Or when you and your gaggle of other titless twats thought it would be fun to fling food at him during lunch, sealing the deal by dumping a fresh load of apple juice into his lap. He’d waddled home that evening, quivering at the sticky feeling of liquid squelching in the pocket of his underwear. Or another time, when you’d tripped him up on the way to his seat, howling with laughter along with everybody else as he laid face down in the middle of the classroom, snivelling with a scuffed chin and bruised cheek.
But, despite everything.. all these things added up — just makes it that much more delicious when he finally gets to face you alone.
Tomura’s palm collides with your face, once on the left side and then on the right, knocking you about with a heavy hand bludgeoning you to the brink of death.
Your whimpers only spur him on as he kicks your heels in, sending you flying, knees splitting atop the sharp gravel coating the ground. “Tomu—”
“Shut the fuck up.” A rubber sole plants itself onto your cheek, imprinting it’s swirled pattern into your skin in a heap of dust. He stands above you, stoic and proud, uncaring of the sickening crunch that erupts from your broken cartilage. “You shut your fuckin’ mouth, I can’t be asked to listen to your whinin’ right now. I’ve already got a fuckin’ headache.”
You heave through the stream of bubbling crimson pooling on your tongue. “I’m sorry, Tomur—”
“Oi, what’d I just say?” He kicks you again, digging the tip of his red sneakers into your stomach. Swinging his leg back, he clobbers you, battering your, no doubt, already bruised body further. “Stupid — fucking — dumb — ass — bitch.”
A spill of blood accompanies your gasps, left retching and writhing and clutching at the ground, clawing at the loose stones dotted about the pavement.
“You like that, huh?” He crushes your fingers, twisting and grating them into the concrete as you scream, clinging to his shins in prayer. “Yeah, you do. You fuckin’ love it.”
He squats down to cradle your chin in his palm, craning your neck back into a painful arch. “Who’s my little bitch? — That’s right you are.” He coos at you through grit-teeth, pressing down on your popped lip with the pad of his thumb. “You are..” He whispers before letting the weight of your head fall again.
“I hope you’re thirsty.”
The zip of a fly has your ears perking, squinting through your lashes at the pale length throbbing in his palm, slit already frothing with pre. “Get that fucking tongue out.”
“Wait, Tomura, please!—”
“What? — I don’t think I asked you, you cock-sucking little bitch.” He brandishes his cock like a weapon, squeezing it between dangerous fingers. “Get that tongue out now, before I do it myself.”
You comply with a whimper. Statuesque as you point your tongue out wide, leaking thick globs of drool over your chin and onto your shirt.
“Better.”
It wouldn’t be uncommon to expect the plush velvety feel of a salty tip prodding at your mouth, snaking its sweaty shaft down your gullet. But this time, you’ve been particularly naughty.
“You think it’s fuckin’ funny, huh? Gettin’ your little boyfriends to jump me in the bathroom?” He clutches your neck in a vice grip, jostling your spooked form. “Well, since you seem to like playin’ around toilets so much — I’ve got you a little gift.”
His fat dick jumps while a stream of urine accompanies his harsh jerking. “Yeah, get it down ya’.” He whistles, shooting the acidic stream of piss straight to the back of your throat, making a game of it as you gag and cack at the air.
“Had enough?” He angles his cock down, allowing you a burst of air but soiling your clothes in the process.
You nod frantically, gurgling with bubbles foaming.
“That’s cute.”
He sprays the last few acrid droplets over your forehead, letting it drench your hair to the root and then some.
Your nose wrinkles at the smell, putrid and pungent and most likely undiluted by the amount of water you know he drinks, or lack of.
You’re hoisted onto your feet by a pair of hands. Looking down, you see how the curve of his cock slaps against your hip. Propped up against the wall, he hikes your legs up over his elbows, pinning you into a tight hold where you’d have no chance at escape. He only peels the crotch of your underwear to the side, letting your chubby folds do the rest of the work by holding it in place while sliding his uncut prick up and down the little triangle placed between your thighs.
“Preparation isn’t needed when you don’t deserve it”, Is what he whispers into your ear, stale breath warm and ticklish against your canal as he begins to sheath himself inside, chunky mushroom tip popping through the first ring of muscle before feeding the rest through. It’s akin to being impaled in the awkward position, sat without a centre of gravity on a hot, girthy pole, just twitching to tear you through the middle and come out the other end.
Tomura’s eager to hurt you, already humping you against the bricks, bouncing you up and down with guttural and down-right animalistic grunts. The noises are purposeful, he doesn’t need to make such strange sounds but he much prefers the curl between your brows to the foggy look in your eyes.
“I’m fuckin’ you.” It’s an odd but factual statement. “I’m fuckin’ your pussy. My dick is inside you. You get that? Raw.”
“Uh, huh.” Your jaw whips up and down, soft as your tongue hangs out.
He’s unsure whether to scowl or smirk — so he settles for a bit of both, catching a lip between his stained teeth. “You’re a freak.“ Forehead to forehead, he puffs into your mouth, loving you down with a thumb digging into your crack “What would all your friends say, hm? That you like gettin’ your ass beat and raped after school everyday.”
Sharpened fingernails dig into the flesh of his striped neck, crying out with dewy eyes falling, rolling behind sunken eyelids. “Ngh.. I’m.. I — gonna’..”
He smacks your face for the umpteenth time, a litter lighter than the others. Perhaps even a tap. “Don’t you dare.”
“Ca..”
Your toes curl inside your socks and your pussy tightens, twisting and pulling on his engorged manhood despite his obvious protests. He drops you on your rear, startling your spinal cord as you hit the concrete with a thud, legs still shivering and clitty still pulsing with the shattered remains of your ruined orgasm.
Tomura growls with a livid expression as his cock spurts, still throbbing with the remembrance of your gummy hole massaging him. His balls tighten and he throws his head back, canines bared as he lets the white darts shoot out onto your face.
“God — shit — wasn’t meant to fucking cum..” He murmurs, dabbing a knuckle over the damp sheen across his forehead.
He cracks his neck, then zips up his pants, shaking off the tension held between his shoulders before snapping his fingers, nudging your crouched form with the toe of his shoe. “Come on then, hand it over.” He demands with an almost exasperated sigh.
Panting, you turn to rummage through your bag. With two $20 notes crumpled in your palm, you offer them to the man with timid, shaking hands.
Enthusiastic as he snatches the paper from you, he eyes the green with scrunched carmines before clicking his tongue. “Seriously, $40 bucks? That’s it? I even made you cum you stingy cunt.” He looms over you with a menacing glare.
“Uhm.. I.. there’s..” You search through your pockets in a frenzy. “I don’t have any more on me..”
“Well, that’s gonna’ be a problem then, isn’t it?”
“I.. I can give it to you tomorrow! I’ll get you another 20!”
He tuts, narrowing his eyes at you before turning on his heel. “Make it 30.”
As he moves to make his leave, you begin to crawl with desperation, reaching out for him with an outstretched arm. “Wait!”
“What.”
“..Do.. Do you want to hang out this weekend?..” He thinks you resemble a love-sick puppy with the way you blink up at him. “..Please?.. Tomu-kun?..”
There’s a hint of a smile that plays on his cracked lips as he looks down at you, still thumbing the creased bills in his pocket. “Hm.. Actually—”
“Make it another 40.”
#bnha#mha#my hero academia#boku no hero academia#bnha smut#tomura shigaraki#tomura shigaraki x reader#tomura shigaraki smut#shigaraki tomura#shigaraki tomura x reader#shigaraki tomura smut#shigaraki#shigaraki smut#shigaraki x reader#tomura#tomura x reader#tomura smut#shigaraki mha#shigaraki bnha#mha shigaraki#bnha shigaraki#shigaraki x you#tomura shigaraki x you#shigaraki tomura x you
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can't stop thinking of shigaraki who discovers that he prefers unshaved pussy way better than a smooth one.
i mean, yeah, he's a gamer, so what even are the chances he ever saw a pussy in real life? all the ones he laid his eyes on were on hentai and doujinshis.
you know, the ones that are always drawn all smooth, without a single hair. and okay, he accepts it, thinks that all women just had them like these since, y'know, he never saw one naked in real life.
time skip, you're his sweet girlfriend. yes, creep, evil, villainous shigaraki managed to score a cutie like you. how did he even do it? he's not sure himself, he thinks that god finally had mercy on him when he found you.
so one day, he's particularly stressed about the league, and he just had to lose three rounds of a random game. so you know, now that he actually has someone who will actually willingly hand herself over for him to destress- oh wow, that thought still makes him silly-
shigaraki's over at your house before himself knows it.
he opens the door, how cute for you to give him a spare key! let it be known that he does abuse of that factor, and steps in. he locks it behind him as he searches for you around the house, only to find you coming out of the shower, towel on and wet hair.
you're not surprised to see him there, and just smiled at him all lovingly, dragging his name on your tongue with such fondness that he's practically melting.
before you know it, tomura is pulling you to your room, carefully, but still throwing you on the bed, he tugs at your towel while explaining how badly he needed to destress.
you don't even have time to warn him about the front law being up as he rips the towel out of your body, and his eyes widen as he looks down there.
... popped an instant, throbbing boner, the hardest he ever was in his life.
no seriously, his breath hitched, and he looked so unbelievably hot and bothered that it almost felt feverish to him. shigaraki could barely register how horny he was before he just dived down.
yeah, he'll be confiscating your razors away.
tell them, moonie: this thought was actually the reason why i created this blog fjengjengjejfdn i really needed to share this with others.
#shigaraki tomura#shigaraki x reader#mha x reader#boku no hero academia#mha shigaraki#tomura shiragaki#shigaraki tomura x reader#shigaraki tomura x you#mha x you#bnha x reader#bnha x you#shigaraki smut#mha smut#bnha smut#moonie's drabbles#sinning on main? don't mind if i do!#credits for dividers: @cafekitsune#t. shigaraki#moonie's babygirls
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Shigaraki might not be too good at this
listen, I just can’t imagine him ever being in a relationship in his life time
BUT
If he did, it’s after long longgggg periods of denial, contemplation, irritation, hesitation and fear
Shigaraki wouldn’t, Shimura did
It’s difficult for him to welcome warmth back into his life, he pushes it away because it’s foreign
But something inside him urges for it? Something so desperately tries to cling to it, despise how useless and weak his brain deemed it to be
It pissed him off at first
After how caged off and detached shiggy’s emotions have been his whole life, it itches him all over to think about but also gives a weird relief so he’s conflicted
Never got taught how to deal with his emotions
He wants it, but does he???
Master said he can do whatever, as long as he wanted to
Afraid if he gave in to his weakness, everything will crumble, along with you
Everything he (tried to) treasure turned to dust, after all
It halts him, unnecessary for destroying everything and hero society
But he needs it
And he always gets what he wants
You were so warm and welcoming, it’s weird
Somehow, your mere presence calmed down every itch he’s ever had
Despite so, he doesn’t know how to act
Cannot vocalize, everything pours out physically
Doesn’t say what he wants, but does whatever he wants
He would love touch
A little too much
Two fingers lifted when touching you always, just to be sure
Gloves when sleeping, but it’s uncomfortable and you were ok with it off
Somewhere in the back of his mind, his biggest fear is waking up to not you, but dust
Touch you anywhere and anytime he wanted, not necessarily sexually either
Just a little skin to skin to assure him
Arguing and feeling frustrated at Dabi? He’s grabbing your wrist
Tired after mission? Your wrist
Not too tight but proficiently long hugs, arms fully wrapped around yours waist, he likes to bury his face in the warmth of your neck
Then he stands there in silence
This makes up for how many years?
He likes to fall asleep as you cuddle, have you pat his back
Light sleeper so he gets pissy when you move around during sleep
Might be small spoon, despite how much he wants to act like the big bad leader
He likes how comfortable it is, no judgment or pressure to do anything, just exist
Your hands can travel anywhere, the warmth from your palm calms him down
Run hand through his hair and he’s a puddle, will grunt and complain like a liar
Shiggy likes that he can comfortably touch you, his favorite is wrapping his arms around you and resting his head on your shoulder out of nowhere
Embraces = comfort for every single situation
You’re basically his comfort blanket
He melts at any kind of kiss
You won’t see it nor hear about it, but he’ll avoid your eyes and grits his teeth, add a tongue click in there too
His personal favorite is soft kisses on his forehead or knuckles, his temple honorable mention
He likes kissing your neck, and the top of your hair
His kisses are feathery light, but his lips are rough
Like, a little scratchy
Kiss like you’re porcelain!!
Occasionally rough make out sessions? Only when he needs a stress relief or he’s some sort of VERY frustrated
Shiggy bites
Gently, of course, only when he feels extra touchy
Mostly on the neck and ears
His hypocritical ass does not like you biting him back, thinks it’s nasty and gets all pissy
You’re filled of the sympathy he never got
He doesn’t need pity, but the concern you have stunned him
Shiggy is used to getting whatever he wants, but you make sure it’s at a healthy level
He hated it at first, but grew to accept how you actually care
You listen, understand and scold him when he did too much
Sure, you have a soft spot for him and spoil him too much, but it never stops you from telling him that he’s acting like an ass
It’s gentle, reminds him of his mom
NEEDS very very strong trust bonds before he commits to anything
He just knows you’re there until the end
You can trust the same
Emotions, stress and everything crashes down on him, so he might lash out
“Shut up” or “piss off” are regular but anything beyond that level is rare
Might disappear for a good minute, but comes back and acts like nothing’s wrong no matter what
No words spoken but silent apologies and forgiveness is given unconditionally afterwards
If he’s away from you for too long without knowing where you are, he might get pissy and throw a fit
Expect 50 calls and 89 “where are u” texts
Still Shigaraki, just a more mellow, even less talkative and melty version
He never really asks or makes it official, just comfortable enough to know there’s no doubt on both sides
He probably doesn’t even see this as girlfriend and boyfriend
Just shiggy and his comfort person
DOES NOT like sentimental and long talks, will get angry if subjects are too personal about his past
Tries to do sweet things, but can’t
Gets pissed when things don’t go well (often), so you get his best efforts and an irritated grumble on Valentine’s Day
Tries to remember special days, but might forget one or two (or more)
Just remind him, he’ll do something
The crepe cake you mentioned you wanted last week? Showed up randomly on the counter, no note or anything attached
You hope he bought it
Obviously cares, just not obvious on the outside
Doesn’t know how to show affection
Isn’t super romantic, he gets embarrassed/irritated when it’s too lovey dovey
Almost never even interact with you when the rest of the league is there
Except for the random touching
When you do interact, it’s purely professional
Hard to guess that you’re dating, but the LoV can kind of just tell
After all, the Shigaraki Tomura looks at you like that
Doesn’t find the appeal of, nor does he understand romantic tendencies
He would destruct the world for you to be alive, isn’t that enough?
🌀🌀ooo you forget how ooc this is ooo🌀🌀 I just need him to have one day of comfort HORIKOSHI is that too much to ask for ?! This is entirely Shigaraki if he’s with someone who is healthy for him (WHICH HE DESERVES)
#x reader#anime#my hero academia#boku no academia#bnha#mha#boku no hero#my hero academia x reader#mha x reader#bnha x reader#shigaraki tomura#mha shigaraki#bnha shigaraki#shigaraki x reader#tomura shiragaki#tomura x reader#bnha tomura#mha tomura#tenko shimura#tomura shigaraki x reader#tomura shigaraki x you#tomura shigaraki mha#shimura tenko#shigaraki tomura x reader#shigaraki tomura x you#shigaraki tomura headcanons#tomura headcanons#dating headcanons#tomura dating headcanons#shigaraki headcanons
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95 with Tomura please ❤️
warnings: smut, unprotected sex, Tomura has a decent control on his Quirk, semi-public sex, mentions of oral sex(Fem receiving), mentions of vaginal fingering| dividers: @adornedwithlight
Nobody knows that you two have fallen for one another. To anyone else in the League, you two just work well together. Outside of that, Tomura doesn’t show you any favouritism. In fact, he does his best to try and ignore you whenever he can.
It’s not that he wants to. He’s just trying to protect you. He worries that if people knew you two are together, you’d have an even bigger target on your back. He knows you’re tough and can take up for yourself, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. He cares so much about you.
Spending any kind of intimate time together is almost impossible. There’s always someone lingering around any of the hideouts that you live in. Whenever he gets a chance to be intimate with you, it has to be quick. So Tomura often results in eating you out or fingering you and having to go jerk off in the shower or something of the sort.
Finally, you get a chance to have a private moment together. It’s fiery and passionate, and Tomura is almost eating your face with the hungry kisses he places on your lips. He needs you so badly. His hands are carefully kneading your breasts and he focuses wholeheartedly on not accidentally dusting you.
Most of the time, Tomura makes sure there is at least one finger off of you. He’s practiced this with you over time. There’s not been one instance where he hurt you either. He’s very good to you.
“Gonna fuck my little lover,” he says with a grin on his face. “Finally get to fuck you.”
He strips you of your clothes, and soon he pulls down his pants and his boxers. He has you bent over his bed, and he slowly slides into you. The fact of the matter is, someone could come into the hideout at any time and be looking for either one of you.
Tomura tries to keep his grunts to a minimum, but damn your little pussy is just sucking him in greedily. He can’t help himself when he begins to pound into you, making you squeak and mewl in pleasure. The way you’re trying not to make too much noise only serves to turn him on even more. He knows that you two shouldn’t be doing this in the middle of the afternoon, but damn it’s hard not to take advantage.
Just then, someone comes into the hideout. Tomura slows his pace to listen, and he realizes it’s Spinner and Dabi. He doesn’t stop, instead just preferring to go at a slow pace. He reaches down to rub your clit, making you leak a little more all over his fat cock.
“Quiet baby,” he coos when you moan. “The others will hear. We don’t want that, do we?”
You try to shake your head ‘no’, but with the way he keeps brushing up against your sweet spot, all that comes out of you are sweet little moans. With a few more thrusts, you’re seeing stars and you’re whining his name.
“Did you hear that?” Spinner asks Dabi in the other room.
Dabi shrugs, “Nope. And you didn’t either.”
#bacon.writes#tomura x reader#tomura shigaraki x reader#tomura shigaraki x you#tomura x reader smut#shigaraki tomura x reader#shigaraki tomura x you#tenko shimura x reader#tenko shimura x you#shigaraki x reader#shigaraki x you#shigaraki x y/n#bnha tomura#bnha shigaraki#mha shigaraki
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Alleyway Rendezvous
Kinktober: "Sex Pollen" || Tomura Shigaraki x reader
contents: villain!reader, desperation, semi-public sex, clothed sex, hair pulling, dirty talk
words: 0.9k
g/n afab reader
↓ Ficlet below the cut ↓
A pink haze fills the air as the enemy runs off, middle finger up as he shoots you one last look with his tongue out. A simple petty gang had blocked your way, all of which you and your boss had taken care of swiftly- save for one who managed to slip through your grasp. The two of you cough and wheeze, the sickeningly sweet cotton candy-like scent filling your lungs. You start to walk quickly, any possible direction to get away from the fog- clearly the effect of the surviving enemy’s quirk as a means to get away. You had no clue what this would do to your body; it could cause asphyxiation, hallucinations, or worse. You both had to get away and get away fast.
“Y/N…”
Shigaraki’s voice comes out forced and weak, completely unlike the assertive man you were used to. You turn to see him leaning against the wall for support, his normally intense red eyes glazed over, looking up at you as he takes in labored breaths. Looking at him in this state makes it dawn on you what that quirk had done, because it was starting to take hold of you too.
It’s an aphrodisiac.
It almost felt like you were put under a spell and were magnetized to each other. You couldn’t resist the intense temptation running rampant through your body, especially now that you looked down and noticed the tent in the other man’s pants.
In an instant, your faces are plastered to each other, your mouths messily connecting and the generous saliva spreading across your lips and cheeks. Your hands wander around and across each other’s bodies as he firmly presses you against the wall, hooking your knee under his arm and hiking it around his hip. Eagerly he grinds himself onto you, his face lowering to place needy and wet kisses along your neck. You sigh in satisfaction, wrapping your arms around his back and grinding back with just as much fervor.
“Fuck, boss…this shit’s really potent…”
“I know, I know, I know. God, I’m so fucking horny, holy shit. I need to fuck you, right now.”
You nod, pulling your bottoms down just to your knees before turning around and bending over, spreading your already soaked folds to be penetrated by the villain. Immediately he unbuttons his pants, freeing his painfully hard cock, throbbing endlessly from the desperation to be inside you. He places one hand on your hip sans pointer finger, the other hand lining himself up and sliding in with a hiss. Both of you screw your eyes shut with a long moan, the satisfaction of the penetration clouding your minds.
He wastes no time to see if you’ve accommodated to his length before he starts up at a brutal pace, the loud slaps of your combining thighs amplified from the reverb of the alley walls. Your eyes glass over and drool falls from your lips as he aggressively shoves his hips back and forth, fucking into you like it was the last thing he’d ever do. Helplessly you whimper repeatedly, the pure pleasure of being railed by your horny leader completely taking over your mind.
“Shit, Y/N…this pretty pussy feels so fucking good…”
“Y-yeah? You feel f-fucking amazing, the way y-your cock stretches me…”
“Fuckin’ love how tight you are. Feels like you were made to take my dick.”
“Haaah…uh-huh…”
You nod as he continues to relentlessly bully his cock into your cunt, slipping effortlessly in and out of your slick walls, the red and swollen head kissing your cervix on every thrust. A slender hand reaches up to your hair, pulling on it while he keeps up his relentless rhythm.
“You fuckin’ like being railed like a slut, don’t you? You like when I fuckin’ pound your hole like this?”
You can only mewl in response, the pure force of his frenzied hips driving you to insanity. “Uh-huh….”
He chuckles, growling as he reaches down to place a finger on your clit; a digit capable of so much violence and power, placed on the sensitive bundle of nerves, rubbing it back and forth with just as much passion as the rest of his body.
“If you wanna be a good little whore, you’re gonna listen to me. This is an order, got it?”
You nod weakly, wanting nothing more than to be obedient for your commanding and intimidating boss. You can already feel yourself building to a climax, when his final word sends your body over the edge.
“Cum.”
Your knees buckle and you cry out as your cunt clenches, a pure numbness washing over you as you roll your eyes back and release all over Shigaraki’s cock, still drilling into you and fucking you through your orgasm. You can tell he’s close too by the way he’s groaning and his hips eventually still, spilling ropes of hot cum into you. The two of you ride out your intense highs for a few moments, his arms caging you and both of your connected bodies rocking back and forth.
After the hazy climax subsides, the effects of the quirk fade away, the both of you breathing deeper as he pulls out of you, his seed starting to drip from your abused hole. You stand up with shaking legs, pulling up your pants and grimacing at the uncomfortable sensation of putting on underwear with a wet and messy undercarriage.
“Didn’t know you could fuck like that, boss. We’ll have to do that again.”
He huffs, tucking his softening cock away with a smirk. “Absolutely.”
for some reason i just did not have a ton of muse today, im so sorry!!! i hope its still enjoyable anyway. humbly apologizing to my shigaraki fucker readers.
#mha x reader#mha x y/n#mha x you#bnha x y/n#bnha x you#bnha x reader#tomura shigaraki x y/n#tomura shigaraki x you#tomura shigaraki x reader#shigaraki tomura x reader#shigaraki tomura x you#Shigaraki Tomura x y/n#shigaraki x reader#shigaraki x you#shigaraki x y/n#kinktober#kinktober 2024#mha x reader smut#BNHA x reader smut#Tomura Shigaraki x reader smut#my hero academia x y/n#my hero academia x you#my hero academia x reader#boku no hero academia x y/n#boku no hero academia x you#boku no hero academia x reader#Shigaraki Tomura x reader smut#shigaraki x reader smut#mha x gn!reader#mha x gender neutral reader
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✮ Personal assistence ✮
I shall present to you a new down to core kinky oneshot: Tomura Shigaraki x Bunny!Reader
TW: NSFW, she/her pronouns, p in v sex, praise, degradation, caught while having sex
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This job was a step into a better life with better salary. Even though you were just an assistant. The job was quite simple, but hectic. After two months, you were doing everything for your boss… for the great commander of the Paranormal Liberation Front. Re Destro was really happy about your work and he applied you to an even better position. The personal assistant of Tomura Shigaraki. Your work got even more hectic and you practically became Shigaraki’s shadow. And if you accidentally had some free time, you still followed Shigaraki like a puppy. A puppy… with white rabbit ears and a small white rabbit tail. Such a perfect assistant!
First weeks in the new position were… awkward. Your office was in his. You just had a small desk with a computer, calendar and a phone. You just sat all day by the desk and arranged his schedule to his likings. That meant changing his schedule all the time, because he was lazy and then making excuses and calling everyone from his meetings. But after quite a lot of days you started to know each other’s presence. You memorized his favorite meals and his favorite coffee. And he stopped being so whiny, so you had less work with his schedules. Things were getting better. You followed him to every meeting taking notes of the important things and every time you were walking in the hallway, his big hand rested on your back. Always. Every walk with him by the hall. When you sat by your desk and arranged a new meeting for him, he always went to you after the call and looked at his schedule, while slightly holding your thigh. When you got him coffee, he always slightly stroked your ass and the back of your thighs and asked about his next task.
These slight touches slowly became grasps and firm holds. Your whole day routine changed to be in more contact with him. “Good morning sir.” you chirped and put his coffee in his favorite place. “Thank you darling.” He mused and slapped your ass. “What are we dealing with today?” “Just a meeting with the league members at 2 pm. That’s all for today.” You smiled and felt his hand traveling under your short skirt and pinching one of your cheeks. You squealed and jumped a little, your tail twitching. “You forget something.” Tomura said firmly. “T-that’s all for today… sir.” You mumbled and he grabbed your hips, pulling you into his lap. “Such a good girl.” He mused and your ears lowered a little. Praising was always your weak spot. His hand wandered from your ass to your knee and back. He squished your thighs and looked at some documents. “Maybe we should try something new.” He looked at you. Hunger and lust in his eyes and a raging problem in his tight pants. You gulped. One of his hands trailed to your face, stroking your cheek and stroking your lips with his thumb. “I always wondered how your cute and little mouth would feel on my cock. Get to work darling. So you can go back to your work as soon as you can.” He smiled at you, his eyes almost hypnotizing you. “Y-yes sir.” You whispered and got onto your knees under his desk. You always liked him… admired him, his power. Your soul always screamed when he touched you. Always wanting more. Your hands gently unzipped his pants, your ears lowering to your head and your tail twitching with excitement. You pulled down his pants and boxers to reveal his raging boner. It was… Thicker than you expected. He had beautiful veins on his full length and his scent… Oh god. It was even more hypnotizing than his eyes. And his heavy balls full to their brim ready for release. You gently licked his cock and then took him in your mouth. “Mm. I have my new favorite sight.” He grinned and watched as your head bobbed on his dick. From this perfect state startled Shigaraki a knock on the door. “Come in.” He said while smiling at your surprised look and gesturing you to keep up. Another assistant walked inside. “W-where is your assistant?” On Tomura’s face appeared a shit eating grin. “She went on a quick break. What is it?” “We got new information about heroes’ patrol shifts.” “Great. Put them on her desk.” He mumbled and after a while you heard the door closing. You met his ruby eyes and smiled. He chuckled and relaxed. His hand stroked your ears and grabbed your hair. He started guiding your head to his favorite rhythm, making you gag. Such a beautiful sound and view. After this joyful moment you felt him tense up. His hand pulled you into his groin, his pubic hair tickling you. You squeezed your eyes shut and felt his cock squirting semen into your throat, making you gag even more. He loosened his grip and you pulled away gulping for air. “I have a new daily task for you.” He grinned. “I’m glad sir.” You smiled.
After this encounter, every day was wilder. Your throat was sore everyday, but it was worth it. But this time Tomura decided to push this encounter into something even more. You finally had a free afternoon and you don’t even know how it happened. The sound of wet skin slapping echoed through his office room. You laid on your clean desk, his hands firmly holding your hips. The scent of making out masked your senses and his grunts were the only thing you could hear. You grabbed his tie and lowered him to you kissing his lips. Tomura smiled. “Such a good assistant… ugh… We need to do this more. Imagine me bending you over. Fucking you in front of a mirror. Or in front of the windows. Or in the meeting rooms.” Your ears twitched. “Oh, you would like that? Yeah? My cute slut would like that?” He grinned and kissed your nipples. You mewled and your back arched. All of this was too much for you. The knot in your abdomen finally snapped and you slightly squirted on his shirt. “Oh fuck.” He mumbled and admired your exhausted body. He grabbed your ass firmly and sped up. He huffed, towering above you. He kissed you feverishly and came right inside your cunt. He mused happily and slowed down. He picked up the phone and gave it to you. “Call and get me a new shirt.” You smiled and dialed the phone. After a while, someone knocked on the door. You slowly got up leaving his embrace and his softening cock. You arranged your clothes and picked up his clothes. “Here sir.” You smiled and gave him the shirt.
Since then you were fucking like rabbits. That fits you, right? You were fucking everywhere you could, missing some appointments and dealing with it later. You sat on his lap cockwarming him, while he thought about his new plans. Sometimes he fucked you only to torture you by making you call and arrange meetings while your session. The only one who knew about your little affair was Schuichi. You once stayed after your shift, only for a make out session. You ended up stuck in a room with cleaning products. It was small and cramped, but you still fit in there. You were pushed against the wall and your legs were around his waist. He fucked you up the wall not wanting to stop. “I… Got you something.” He huffed and kissed your neck. “What is it sir?” You smiled at him. And then you felt it. A fabric around your neck. You looked at him. “It fits you well.” You take it in your hands and look at it. It was white collar with a name sewn on it. It said: “Bunny”. You smiled. “Thank you so much.” I beamed and kissed him passionately. Your faces were met with a big stream of light. Schuichi stood by the opened door looking flabbergasted with an open mouth. You felt your cheek heat up and you hid your face in Tomura’s chest. “I just wanted… to get the new markers.” Schuichi mumbled and Tomura handed them to him and closed the door back. Then he bursted laughing and you chuckled. You never noticed why Schuichi needed these markers. Maybe for one of these meeting rooms?
Time flew by and you started living with him. Assisting him every minute of his life. Your relationship was now official and the league was happy for Tomura. You snuggled into him sitting with the league on the couch on a movie night. Tomura smiled and toyed with your bunny tail. You blushed and cuddled into him. He lowered to you and whispered into your ear.
“I can’t wait for the night to breed your tummy to the brim.”
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A/n: Thank you so much for reading this! I stitched this up just from my kinky thoughts from lonely nights. And here is a little secret! I'm planning another oneshot from an office AU, where reader is the boss and Tomura is a hardworking employee in a need of a reward!
#bnha shigaraki#my hero academia shigaraki#mha shigaraki#shigaraki#shigaraki imagine#shigaraki tomura#tenko shimura x reader#shigaraki smut#tomura shigaraki#shigaraki hcs#shigaraki x y/n#shigaraki x you#shigaraki x reader#shigaraki x female reader#shigaraki fanfic#shigaraki fanfiction#shigaraki thirst#shigaraki tomura x reader#shigaraki tomura x you#tomura shigaraki smut#tomura shigaraki x reader#shimura tenko#tenko shimura#tomura shiragaki
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Enough to Go By (Chapter 23) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic
Your best friend vanished on the same night his family was murdered, and even though the world forgot about him, you never did. When a chance encounter brings you back into contact with Shimura Tenko, you'll do anything to make sure you don't lose him again. Keep his secrets? Sure. Aid the League of Villains? Of course. Sacrifice everything? You would - but as the battle between the League of Villains and hero society unfolds, it becomes clear that everything is far more than you or anyone else imagined it would be. (cross-posted to Ao3)
Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22
Chapter 23
“Good news,” the doctor says, and you look up from the compound you’re mixing at your station. “Shigaraki is tolerating the procedure much better than I expected. I can only assume it’s thanks to your quirk, and because of how well he’s handling it, we can add another quirk to the mix.”
You’re not sure how you feel about that. “What about the neural load?”
“With just one more, it won’t be a problem,” the doctor says. “All For One carries many quirks, and as Shigaraki will be the next him, it’s in our interests to get him used to it.”
That phrasing is never not going to be weird to you – Tomura not as All For One’s successor, but as the next All For One. “Okay,” you say. You know already that the doctor won’t change his mind. “Which quirk?”
“You’re familiar with our collection of quirk factors, and you know Shigaraki Tomura better than I do,” the doctor says. “Why don’t you choose?”
What would be useful to Tomura? What would he want? You think about it for a moment, try to think about situations Tomura’s found himself in where the lack of a certain quirk has frustrated him. Between the League’s quirks and the collection Tomura’s already receiving from the doctor, there’s really only one gap that you can see. “Does that Nomu’s Warp quirk work on the Nomu itself?”
“Mm — yes,” the doctor for says after a moment. “All For One has used it to travel, when it was in his possession. It would make sense for the next him to have it as well.”
The next him. There’s that phrasing. Again. The doctor is frowning. “Don’t you think he’d want something flashier?”
“Decay is flashy enough,” you say. When you think of the doctor’s quirk collection, you can’t think of anything that matches Tomura’s ability to level a city with the touch of his hand. “He should have something useful. Warp is useful, and it’s not something his opponents will be able to access, even if they do have Kurogiri.”
“Yes, Kurogiri. Has your contact made any progress in figuring out where he’s being held?”
“He’s in Tartarus,” you say. “That’s where they all are.”
All For One, Moonfish, Muscular, Overhaul, and Stain. Mustard is there too, which you find appalling — he’s underage, just like Toga, and neither of them belong in maximum security under 24-hour guard. You’ve heard things about the conditions inside the prison, and they’re awful. If you needed more reasons to win the war to come, you can add Tartarus to the list — you don’t want you or anyone else to wind up inside.
The doctor nods brusquely. “When Shigaraki liberates All For One, remind him to grab Kurogiri as well, won’t you?” Then, as an afterthought: “Overhaul, too. That quirk –”
“It’s gone,” you say. “Tomura Decayed one of his arms, and Compress –”
Something clicks in your head. You take out your phone and call Compress, ignoring the doctor’s complaints. Compress answers. “Yes?”
“Do you still have Overhaul’s arm?” you ask, and the doctor’s complaining abruptly cuts off. Compress answers in the affirmative. “What condition is it in?”
“Pristine condition, given that I haven’t released it — other than that unfortunate instance with your coffee table,” Compress says. “Why?”
“Keep it like that. We might need it later,” you say. You thank Compress, hang up, and turn to the doctor again. “We have one of Overhaul’s arms, preserved at the point it was removed from his body. Will that work?”
“Yes,” the doctor says, startled.
“Good.” You’re not sure how Tomura will feel about getting Overhaul’s quirk, and that’s the least of your worries. “Won’t that be too many quirks? If we’re already adding Warp –”
“Oh, Overhaul isn’t for Shigaraki,” the doctor says. “It’s for you.”
You stare at him in horror. “You’ve been very insistent in your role as the team’s medic,” the doctor says. “With your quirk, at the moment, you’re only useful to Shigaraki. With the Overhaul quirk, you could heal your other comrades’ injuries with ease.”
He’s right. With Overhaul’s quirk you’d be beyond effective as a medic. You already have the anatomy knowledge you’d need to use it. But you don’t want any part of what Tomura’s been going through., and when the doctor looks at you, he reads it all over your face. “We’d wait until Shigaraki possesses All For One, of course,” he says. “That would make the transfer painless. And we’d transfer a copy, to avoid any personality contamination.”
“Personality contamination?” you repeat, puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“You’re familiar with the way that transplanted hearts carry the characteristics of their original owners. It’s the same for quirk factors,” the doctor says. “With a copied quirk, the level of influence is significantly lower. So there really is no reason for you to refuse to take on Overhaul’s quirk at all.”
Something about that pulls a thread in the background of your mind. It bothers you, but not as much as the idea of taking on Overhaul’s quirk in the first place. “That quirk killed one of our friends. The rest of the League won’t want me to have it.”
“The same quirk brought your friend back, didn't it? I’m sure you can convince them,” the doctor says. “In any case, if you’re certain that Warp will suit Shigaraki best —“
“I am.”
“We’ll begin preparing the transfer,” the doctor says. “How are the bullets coming?”
“I think I’ve fixed the problem,” you say. “I’m ready to run another test.”
“Excellent. We’ll run it now.”
When you test the bullets, you test them on clones of the doctor. It was his idea, not yours — to ensure the bullets are working, you need a quirk that switches off visibly, and the doctor’s clones aging decades in a heartbeat is as good of a tell as it gets. In your last trial run with the bullets, you shut off the quirk factor successfully, but tests confirmed that it began to repair itself almost at once. This time you’ve woven in another quirk — Petrification, which allows the user to paralyze any part of another person once they’ve touched them. The wielder, whoever they were, likely used it for full-body paralysis, but you’ve been tinkering with it, narrowing it down. You think you’ve created a compound that isolates and nullifies the victim’s quirk, and with Petrification added in, you can make the change permanent.
You think you’ve made the change permanent, and according to the tests the doctor runs on the double you just stabbed with one of the needle-tipped bullets, you’re right. “Excellent work,” the doctor says. “I would have come to this conclusion alone, obviously, but it’s much faster with two. All For One will be very pleased, even once he discovers how you lied to him.”
“I didn’t know I had a quirk.”
“I was there,” the doctor says. “You may not have lied knowingly about your quirk, but you certainly concealed the fact that you knew Shigaraki Tomura before his quirk awakened. If you had revealed that, All For One would have removed you.”
You knew that, sort of. Tomura definitely knew. “Still,” the doctor says, almost reflectively, “I suppose it worked out in the end. If All For One had removed you, he would have missed out on the benefits of your quirk.”
Your quirk benefits Tomura, not All For One. Tomura, and only Tomura. If that wasn’t the case, the doctor wouldn’t be talking about giving Overhaul’s quirk to you. The thread pulls a little tighter in the back of your mind, but the doctor cuts the thought off with an instruction before you can follow it. “Start production of the bullets. I’ll prepare Warp for transfer, and we’ll begin this afternoon. Things are moving along very nicely. After this, all that’s left is Super-Regeneration — and of course, All For One.”
The thread pulls tight, then snaps. It’s a good thing the doctor’s already left the room. If he hadn’t, the pure horror that’s rattling your entire body would have given everything away in a heartbeat.
You must be wrong. You have to be wrong. You’re desperate to be wrong — but as you pull the pieces together, you realize that the truth has been there the entire time, and it’s just as terrible as you first thought. Stolen or transferred quirks carry imprints of the original wielder’s personality. The effect can be reduced by transferring a copy, but the doctor is making sure Tomura gets the original All For One. Copies were good enough for the other quirks, but not that one. All this time, you’ve heard the way the doctor refers to Tomura and assumed that he meant to describe Tomura as All For One’s successor. But he’s never said successor, or heir. He always says it the exact same way — Tomura will be the next him.
All For One never meant for Tomura to inherit his role. He plans to transplant his original quirk to Tomura and steal Tomura’s body for himself.
The realization crashes down on you so hard that you nearly black out, but you drop your head between your knees and force yourself to breathe. Passing out won’t save Tomura. If you want to save him, you have to think. You have to make a plan. But planning right now feels like an impossibility. Doing anything feels like an impossibility, because you’re still you. Functionally quirkless. All but defenseless even with a clip of quirk-canceling bullets in your gun. Easily dismissed and easily overlooked and the last person anyone would ever suspect of doing anything to subvert Tomura’s — and theoretically All For One’s — plans.
You take slow, deep breaths, trying to slow down your thought process to match. The doctor doesn’t know what he just told you. He doesn’t know that you’ve put the pieces together, and even if he did, he wouldn’t think for a second that you’d try to stop it. After all, he’s watched you stand by as he tortured Tomura for the past three months, even allowing yourself to be pulled in to help him do it. If you didn’t blink at that, why would you blink at this? You’re loyal to Tomura’s vision, which the doctor thinks is the same vision as All For One’s. You’d never dream of crossing him.
Except you’re not loyal to All For One’s plans, or even Tomura’s plans. You told Spinner when he asked, the same way as you told yourself when you set off down this path — you’re loyal to Tomura, to Tenko, and no one else. That loyalty means you’ll cross him sometimes. It means that you’ll foil his plans if you have to. In this case, it means that you’ll stop him from receiving All For One.
Even as the thought comes to you, you know it’s impossible. You could beat the doctor in a fight, you’re pretty sure — his quirk extends his lifespan at the cost of his physical strength and speed, and when it comes to protecting Tomura, you’re basically insane — but he has Nomus on his side, and if you blow your cover and lose, it’s over. So you can’t take All For One out of the equation. Tomura will wind up with the quirk no matter what.
He’ll wind up with the quirk, but there’s no reason for him to wind up with the original. If you make sure he’s given a copy instead —
The plan clicks into place and the instant it does, the urge to enact it becomes overpowering. You grit your teeth, trying to ignore the buzzing in your limbs, the panic that floods your system with adrenaline and makes your hands shake. You can’t do anything right now. You don’t need to do anything right now. Warp is being transferred this afternoon. All For One is next, and Super-Regeneration last. You have time to figure out how to make sure the quirk factor the doctor transplants into Tomura isn’t the same one he took from Tomura’s master. In the meantime, you need to make sure the doctor doesn’t suspect you. If he suspects you, he’ll lock you out of the process in a heartbeat.
He told you to work on the bullets. You still need the bullets. You clench your hands into fists, ordering them to stop shaking, and when they don’t, you lose patience with yourself and go fumbling through one of the supply cabinets in the lab for a scalpel.
You remember promising Tenko that you’d stop — or maybe just swearing that you didn’t do it anymore — and the times he’s seen you naked since you started again have been few enough and far enough between to allow the injuries to heal. You’ll have all the time in the world for the three lines that you carve into your hip to fade, and by the time you’ve wiped the blood away and taped down a sterile pad and disposed of the scalpel at the bottom of a sharps container, you’re calm again. You know what you need to do. You won’t let this happen to Tenko. You can save him. You will.
Making the bullets is time-consuming. By the time the doctor comes back from tending to the Nomus he’s cooking up, you’ve only made three. Three, to go with the five Tomura and the others stole from Overhaul — and while you’ve been working on it, you’ve added a twist to your plan. The doctor peers over your shoulder at your progress, then goes to the window to observe Tomura. “We’ll let him rest a little longer before we transplant Warp. I’m hungry. Go and bring me some food from the cafeteria — and some for yourself as well. You look terrible.”
You’ve been hearing that a lot lately. It’s apparently a good thing your costume includes a veil. As much as it irks you to act like the doctor’s servant, you need him in a good mood, so you change into a set of scrubs and head to the cafeteria, blending in easily with the other staff members. This is the kind of place you might have worked one day, if nothing had changed, if you hadn’t found Tenko again. You were proud of working at the clinic, but you’d have been proud to work in a hospital, too. A hospital would have paid better, had better benefits, and depending on the specialty you were in, maybe better hours. The kind of things you’d have needed if you ever wanted to start a family.
You don’t think about things like that anymore. You hop in line at the cafeteria, order what the doctor likes and something you know you won’t do more than pick at, and make your way back down to the lab, willing your hands not to shake, willing your breath to stay even. You deliver the food to the doctor, and then, rather than retreat like you usually do, you sit down at the far end of his workspace. The doctor raises his eyebrows. “Can I help you?”
“Sir, I had a question for you,” you say. Sir never hurts with men of a certain age, and since you’ve used it before, the doctor won’t smell a rat to hear you use it again. “All For One — the quirk — it’s instantaneous, right? The target’s quirk is gone as soon as All For One touches them and decides to take it.”
“Yes,” the doctor says. “Why do you ask?”
“The compound in the bullets I’m making isn’t that fast,” you say. “It’s quick, but if the person who was shot acted quickly enough, they could counter-strike before their quirk was destroyed. So I was wondering if — um — I know it’s the most important quirk you have, but –”
You play up nervousness, anxiousness, a desire to please. The kind of thing the doctor expects to see from a devoted servant, one who’d die for her master. The doctor smiles kindly, or condescendingly. From him, they look the same. “You’re wondering if you can have a copy of All For One for your experiments?”
You nod. “The compound in the bullets works now, but I’d like to make it even better. I want to help Tomura as much as I can.”
The last part is true, at least. “You’ve asked nicely, and you’ve been quite diligent,” the doctor says. “Of course you can have a copy. I believe there are three or four in storage, and of course Mocha can make more if needed.”
“He remembers how?” you ask. “He’s made a lot of copies recently.”
“Of course, but you may wish to jog his memory,” the doctor says. “The original is stored in the repository, the same as the others. Show it to him and he’ll replicate it again. But do try to be judicious with your work, dear. Waste not, want not.”
“Yes, sir,” you say at once. The doctor tilts his head, studying you. “Sir? What is it?”
“You don’t look well,” he says abruptly. “At this proximity, maintaining Shigaraki’s increased healing factor shouldn’t strain you.”
“I’m not — strained,” you say at once. “Just tired. Uh — and hungry.”
“You aren’t eating.”
“I was nervous to ask you about All For One,” you confess. That’s not a lie, either. You look down at your bowl, feeling tears spring to your eyes. “I don’t want to let Tomura down. I’ve been trying as hard as I can –”
All true. “But I’m worried it won’t be good enough,” you continue. “What if it’s not enough, and something happens because of me, and he –”
“Well, you can at least be assured that you won’t live to see it,” the doctor says. “Your quirk will bleed you dry to keep him alive. But we’ll render that unnecessary all too soon. Once Super-Regeneration is transplanted and combined with the effects of your quick, Shigaraki’s transformation into the second coming of All For One will be assured.”
That’s a new phrasing. He hasn’t used that one before. For a second you wonder if you’re wrong — but then as you sniffle over your bowl of cafeteria ramen and the doctor passes you a handkerchief, you decide that it doesn’t matter if you’re wrong or right. With the course of action you’re planning to take, Tomura will get All For One’s quirk no matter what. All you’re going to do is remove any chance that he’ll get All For One’s soul along with it.
The transplantation of Warp goes as well as it could. The sound of Tomura’s screams rings in your ears almost constantly, and every time a procedure ends and you’re left to care for him before he returns to stasis, you’re terrified that he won’t forgive you for your part in it. But it’s not just that he forgives you — it’s that he doesn’t seem to blame you in the first place. “It was my idea, not yours,” he mumbles, when the words blur their way out of your mouth. “Just stay here.”
“Of course,” you say, like always. The hole in his stomach’s closed now — he can eat and drink, although the only thing you’ve been able to get him to accept is a few sips of water. He wouldn’t even drink it at first. It took you dabbing a wet cloth across his lips for him to open his mouth. “You’re almost done after this. Two more and then it’s over.”
Tomura nods. His eyes are closed. “When it’s over,” he starts, then grimaces. You raise the cup of water to his lips again and he takes it from you with a shaky hand, drains it, sets it aside. “Over here. There’s room.”
You look askance at him. “On the operating table?” There’s not room by any stretch of the imagination. “Tomura –”
He shakes his head. “Not Tomura.”
“Tenko.” You lower your voice. “Will you eat something if I sit with you?”
“Why don’t you want to –”
“I do. I just want you to eat something, too.” You study him, wondering what’s going through his head, hoping he’ll agree. After a long moment, he nods. “Okay. I’ll be right back.”
You end up sitting towards the end of the operating table, Tenko’s legs propped up in your lap as he picks at a plate of food. His muscles are stiff — you could tell when he lifted his legs up to stretch them across your lap — so you massage them gently, trying to work the knots out. Tenko relaxes by degrees. “What did I get today?” he asks after a while.
“You’re doing really well, so the doctor told me to pick an extra quirk for you. I chose Warp.”
“Warp?” Tenko’s mouth curves into a smile. “Bad call. Now I can come get you whenever I want.”
“If you think I don’t want to be with you all the time, you haven’t been paying attention.” You wish you were sitting closer to him, or that the plate wasn’t in the way. You want to hold him closer than this. “You were saying something earlier, about when this is over. When it’s over, what do you want to do?”
“Win. Fast.” Tenko picks at the food you brought him. “Before that I want to do stuff. With you.”
“Like, sex stuff?” You’re having a hard time thinking of stuff the two of you haven’t already done that doesn’t start to veer into kinks. The two of you haven’t talked about kinks. “Sure. I’m not sure what kind of stuff you’re thinking about, but we can probably –”
Tenko’s kneed you lightly in the stomach. “What was that for?”
“Not sex stuff.” Tenko peels one eye open and catches the look you’re giving him. “Not just sex stuff. Other stuff. Date stuff.”
“We’ve gone on dates,” you remind him. “Two of them.”
“Those aren’t real dates,” Tenko says. Ouch. “Where we go somewhere and do something. Like a movie. Or the arcade –”
“That kind of date,” you say. Your heart sinks a little bit. “I don’t know if there’s anywhere we can do that where it would be safe.”
“The PLF has other towns. Not just the one we fought in. We can go there.” Tenko’s plate is empty. He sets it aside. “And stay there, after.”
“After the date?” you ask. Tenko shakes his head but doesn’t explain. “After — oh.”
After he wins. After the old world ends, in the new one. You’ve known Tenko was thinking about it, known that some of what you’ve said has taken hold, but aside from jokes about things he wants to ban — cats have been added to the list that already contains heroes, hate groups, and bras — he hasn’t said anything concrete about what he wants it to be like. Except this. Except that he wants to have somewhere to live, and he wants you to live there with him.
And none of that will happen if you can’t stop All For One from stealing his body. “Okay,” you say to Tenko. “We might have to go on multiple dates, then. So we can decide which one we like best. I should warn you, though — I suck at arcade games.”
“I don’t care about that.” Tenko reaches for you, catches you around the waist and pulls you awkwardly in until you’re sprawled against him. It’s not comfortable, but he’s doing his level best to get comfortable anyway. “I’m good enough for both of us.”
“I know.” You’ve believed him every time he said that, ever since you were kids. He’s promised he could do it, whatever it was, for both of you, and you’ve never doubted him. You’re not doubting him now. But at the same time, you know that what needs to happen now is something only you can do. You need to do it for both of you. “Ten?”
He’s falling asleep. His grip on you is loosening even as he tries to wrap you around him. “Yeah?”
“I love you,” you say. “You know that, right?”
He nods. “Always knew,” he mumbles. His next words are slurred, almost incomprehensible. “Same here.”
You’re still sitting with Tomura when the doctor comes back in. He takes one look at you both and rolls his eyes. “Get up. The sooner we put him into stasis, the sooner we can transplant All For One.”
The doctor usually sends you back once Tomura’s in stasis, but that can’t happen this time. You untangle yourself from Tomura’s arms carefully, giving yourself time to phrase the question. “Can I stay for a little while once he’s under?”
“This again? You already know –”
“Not to sit with him,” you interrupt as carefully as possible. “I want to work on the bullets a little more. I promise I’ll stay out of the way. I won’t get underfoot.”
“You haven’t been underfoot,” the doctor says. “A bit sentimental, perhaps, but you’ve made yourself quite useful. You can stay, but you’ll have to stay overnight. Johnny will need a break after this next trip.”
“Which trip?”
“I want you to retrieve Overhaul’s arm,” the doctor says. “While I’m sure Compress has it safely stored, it’ll be better preserved here.”
You nod. Another stupid idea is churning in the back of your mind, but you shove it away. One crazy idea at once is the most you can handle. You tell yourself that, but your mouth has different ideas. “I can preserve it once it’s here, sir. If that would help.”
“That will be very helpful indeed,” the doctor says, smiling. “If you were worried that All For One would be unforgiving of your lie, Saintess, I’d cease to worry about it. He rewards loyal service generously.”
You nod, and close your eyes as the taste of warp sludge fills your mouth. One thing at a time. One plan. One course of action. Nothing else you do will matter if you can’t use your perceived loyalty to All For One to stop him from destroying Tomura.
Spinner and Re-Destro pounce the instant you get back, but then Hawks puts in an appearance, and Spinner detours to run interference while you run to find Compress. You badly need to talk to Spinner — you have to warn him what All For One is trying to do — but you can’t with Hawks sniffing around. Spinner doesn’t come to find you until you’ve already packaged Overhaul’s severed arm for transport, when you’re in the act of calling the doctor to tell him to bring you back. “You’re not staying? I thought he was going into stasis –”
“He is. This is something else.” You try to think of what to tell Spinner, what he’ll need to know if you’re caught and taken out of the picture. There isn’t much, now that you think about it. Even if the doctor catches you, it’ll already be too late. “Listen. If anything happens to me, go to Jaku hospital. Down below. That’s where the doctor is, and the Nomus –”
“What do you mean, if something happens to you?” Spinner’s eyes widen. “Is something going to happen to you? What’s going on?”
“There’s not time. Just — if I’m not back, go there. Don’t leave Tomura there –”
You break off, coughing. Warp sludge is filling your throat. “Don’t leave him. Remind him –”
“About what?”
“Who he is.” It’s the only hint you can give. Then warp sludge chokes off your voice, and when it clears, you’re alone in the darkness beneath Jaku hospital once more.
You wait through the rest of the day. Into the night. You make the doctor hover over you as you work to extract and preserve Overhaul’s quirk factor, taking up so much time that he’s glad to leave you alone when it’s done. As soon as he’s gone, you get moving. You’re familiar with the organization of the quirk database by now, and you go straight for All For One. One original quirk, and three copies. Or so you think.
You’re pretty sure the doctor doesn’t suspect you, but if you were in his shoes, you wouldn’t trust anybody when it came to preserving Tomura’s plans. You set the original quirk factor on its glass slide on the workbench and study it for a moment. It doesn’t look like much — just three full layers of skin, peeled from the palms of All For One’s hands. Your stomach twists when you think about how agonizing it must have been to remove. All For One’s palms have holes in the center of them. You don’t remember that from the hand that closed over your face the first time you came here, but you had other things on your mind.
You set the original aside, then line up the copies alongside it. “Mocha-chan,” you say, and the Nomu appears at your side. “I need a copy of the original quirk.”
Mocha makes it for you, and you affix it onto a new slide, peeling the label off of the original and adding it to complete the picture. Then you tuck it back into the archive in the proper spot and slide it shut.
Next, you pick up a scalpel, and you start with the copies, dragging the blade of the scalpel firmly across each one. You’re not pressing hard enough to cut through the layers of skin completely, but as you test each copy, they collapse into sludge when the pressure grows too firm. You destroy each one, then turn your attention to the quirk labeled as the original. Time to find out if the doctor’s even slightly suspicious of you. If he is, there’s no way he’ll have left the original All For One quirk factor within your reach. You wouldn’t.
You cut into the peeled-away palm of All For One’s hand, biting deep enough to cut through it entirely, but it doesn’t collapse. You cut into it again, amputating the thumb, but the integrity of the quirk factor remains intact. So the doctor does trust you, then. Your heart is racing, and in spite of the fact that you have the proof you need, you continue to cut, slicing All For One’s quirk to ribbons. And when that’s done, when you’re surrounded by nothing but slivers of skin, you drop the slide to the floor and crush it under your heel.
It doesn’t feel like enough. You want to stomp on it harder, and after a second, you do. You sweep the rest of the slides off the workbench, too, shattering them, and add them to the pile of crushed glass on the ground. You imagine it’s All For One’s face that you’re stepping on, that you’re obliterating what’s left of his features with strike after strike, finishing a job that All Might couldn’t. You aren’t like Tenko. You don’t blame All Might for everything, even if you do see the flaws in heroic society, even if you do believe that the world would be better off if everything about it changed. But you do blame All Might for one thing, one thing that’s unforgivable — failing to save Tenko. If All Might had truly beaten All For One, he would never have stolen your best friend away.
It feels hypocritical to blame All Might when you failed Tenko, too, but you were just a little kid. You weren’t the one who took responsibility for saving everyone. What you’ve taken responsibility for is this — not preventing All For One from being passed to Tenko, but making sure that the piece of his master’s soul gets is as weak as possible. It’s all you can do. It’ll have to be enough, and you tell yourself that it is, that it will be. A shadow of All For One isn’t nothing, but you’re not afraid of it. If you’re by Tenko’s side, you can help him keep it at bay. And maybe if your next plan pans out —
But this plan isn’t finished yet. One thing at a time. You turn to the Nomu again. It’s been watching you silently, its eyes blank and staring. “I’m going to clean this up, you say, gesturing to the glass on the ground. The Nomu says nothing. “I need three more copies of All For One.”
The Nomu makes them for you, and you slide them into the database alongside the copy you’re passing off as the original. Then you get to work sweeping away the glass, sponging away the piles of sludge and scraps of skin, concealing the evidence of what you’ve done. There’s a weird feeling of unease in the pit of your stomach.
At first you can’t figure out what it is. But the further away you get from the destruction of All For One’s original quirk, the clearer it becomes. You’ve lied, you’ve stolen, you’ve been an accessory to kidnappings and murders. You’ve used an illegal weapon and killed someone with it. You’ve been complicit in illegal human experimentation. All of that is more than enough to put you within Kazuo’s parameters. But what you’ve just done feels different. It feels like something you can’t come back from, something that’s subverted All For One’s plans directly, something he or the doctor would happily kill you for. You took the trust the doctor had in you and twisted it into a weapon, manipulated and flattered and pretended yourself into a position to ruin everything, and then you did it without thinking twice.
You know you did the right thing. You aren’t sorry about it. You’d do it again in a heartbeat. But you can’t shake the thought that of everything you’ve done since Tenko came back into your life, this is the one that makes you feel more like a villain than anything else.
<- Chapter 22
#shigaraki x reader#shigaraki x you#tomura shigaraki x reader#tomura shigaraki x you#shigaraki tomura x reader#shigaraki tomura x you#tenko shimura x reader#tenko shimura x you#shimura tenko x reader#shimura tenko x you#x reader#reader insert#please hold#man door hand hook car door
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also also also tomura almost always eats food that you’ve eaten. like you have to eat it first then he’ll eat it. like you have to try it for him except its your own food he will not touch his plate unless you order him too😭😭
he goes “lemme have a bite” the moment your spoon makes contact with your lips, and when you do he nods, grunts. then asks for some more. and when you say no he’ll scoff, does he really have to do everything around here ?
so he grabs his own spoon and starts scooping up your food. “tomu—eat your own !” you scold, popping is hand and he immediately flies back like you’d punched him “what the hell was that for ?!” he grumbles. “eat your own. it’s the exact same as mine” you insist, huffing.
you’re obviously a little stupid cus of course it’s not the same. you ate yours, that’s the difference, and he wants yours. so he’ll get yours. so when you’re looking away he’ll sneakily steal bites of your food. but then he gets annoyed about sneaking around and just starts taking from your plate again, you can only sigh in frustration as he keeps munching away.
#he is very annoyign to me your honor#but i want him#i want hiimmmmahaj#i canf stop yall i warned you#i think its time for tomura masterlist im having ideas with this stupid guy#shigaraki tomura x you#tomura shigaraki x you#tomura x y/n#tomura shigaraki x reader#shigaraki tomura x reader#tomura x you#tomura x reader#tomura shigiraki x reader#Okay mdone#for now..#shigaraki x y/n#shigaraki x you#shigaraki x reader
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character: shigaraki tomura x fem!reader warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, dry humping, rough messy kisses, tomura is a meanie words: 1.3k
just been daydreaming about kissing tomura’s scars and leave the prettiest, sparkliest smears of pink lip gloss along his neck and collarbone ♡ and how much he supposedly ‘hates’ it ♡
“i told you to stop doing this,” his voice vibrates against your lips, head tilting further back, allowing you more room to work. “you’re making a fucking mess.”
“m’sorry,” you murmur into the curve of his shoulder, not seeming apologetic in the slightest, planting another kiss, hard and puckered and full of purpose, to the protruding bones. “can’t help it.”
“b-bitch,” he keens out, curse fading to a gasp on his tongue.
giggling, you string another garland of pecks along the curve of his neck to the hinge of his jaw, then across the defined edge, leaving smears of pretty pink lip gloss.
it’s real cute, you think, the way he acts as if he doesn’t love it, grumbles about how sticky it is, how it clumps his hair together and dries all hard and shimmery, but secretly he loves finding remnants of glitter—of you—all over him; his fingertips, his collarbone, his lips, his hair, his eyelashes; tiny sparkling reminders that you were there, that you’ve staked your claim, leaving a galaxy of constellations across his body that bear your name.
he acts as if it’s such a nuisance, as if he doesn’t adore the way your lips paint his fresh gouges, new gashes, in the prettiest shimmers of you; your gloss, your drool, your scent—notes that linger far after you’re gone, notes that seep into his skin, that produce phantom tingles of longing when he’s laying alone in the middle of the night, warm and wiggling beneath his flesh.
he acts as if he doesn’t find it breathtakingly beautiful, the way his self-inflicted scars glimmer, the worst part of himself made pretty by you.
he acts as if if it doesn’t make his cock twitch in his jeans—even though you know it does, even though he knows you know it does, indicated by your girlish giggles as you bounce a little in his lap and lick another fat strip of saliva up the column of his neck, tongue tracing over that prominent adam’s apple that trembles with a growl or throbs with a thick swallow, to punctuate the lick with a sticky, gloss saturated kiss, right beneath his chin.
he acts like this for as long as he can stand it, for as long as his soul will allow it, until he physically can’t take it anymore, the clawing at his chest and in his veins too much to bear, large hands curling around your hips and squeezing, hard, holding you in place as he ruts up into your clothed core, movements sloppy and uneven.
there’s no finesse to it, no set rhythm or pace, hips bucking wildly as he compels you to stay put, damn it, the demand spit out in a ragged whine.
his mouth clashes against your own in a crude imitation of a kiss, sucking your lips into his mouth with enough force to yank a yelp from your chest.
sharp teeth scrape your upper lip and the underside of your nose, leaving raised, raw little abrasions in their wake as they gnaw on your mouth, bottom row grating over your chin and dragging up, harvesting fat globs of the sticky substance behind their sawtoothed edges.
muffled moans soak into your flesh, pitchy and splintered to bits by heavy pants as he restlessly scours your mouth, scrubs it near clean, teeth depositing clots of gloss onto his tongue.
it hurts, the constant rubbing of his teeth leaving your skin chafed and bloodied, but he doesn’t fucking care, greedily swallowing down your resounding squeals and cries, starved for any bit of you he can devour.
it hurts, but you don’t discourage it, instead twining your arms around his neck, fingers pushing into the fluffy tufts curling up at the base of his skull.
“uh, fuck,” he whines, voice grit and gravel, mouth mashed against your own.
his tongue unfurls to lap at your lips, now glazed with a watery crimson, desperate to slurp every last ounce of gloss from your swollen mouth. it flattens against your face, slick muscle laving in hard, repetitive motions back and forth, back and forth, gathering the remnants of make-up and coating his tongue and his teeth in the tacky glitter, tainted with the taste of copper.
those little whimpers and mewls have morphed into grunts and groans, shoved from his throat into yours as his tongue finally enters your mouth, now satisfied with having sucked the first layer of skin from your lips.
it’s all so fucking messy, drool weeping from the corners of your conjoined mouths and leaving sticky streaks across your jaws and chins, edges of your teeth clacking together as your tongues tangle and brush and massage one another, slick and slippery as they push and curl.
his pleasure is hot and heavy on your tongue, little jolts surging through your skin with each sound huffed out in time with the irregular rocking of his hips.
his cock is so hard, straining painfully against his jeans, throbbing as if it’s desperate to burrow through the thick denim to your cunt, but tomura won’t let it get that far—tomura can’t.
because tomura needs to cum now, tomura doesn’t have the time to wait, tomura doesn’t have a goddamn second to waste, fucking into you through layers of fabric, thankful you’re in a skirt, thankful your panties are so fucking slutty, made of lace so thin, so delicate it’s barely a barrier at all.
if he concentrates hard enough, he swears he can feel your hole, empty and yearning, clenching with every stroke of his cock over your clit.
it’s almost enough to make him cum right there.
bony fingers flex on your waist, unsure if they want to stop your movements or speed them up, blunt nails gouging dark, deep crescents into your skin.
you make the decision for him, pace quickening as you grind down on his cock—come on, tomu, come on, tomu—and he mewls again, something high and pitchy and dense in your mouth, hips jerking up in response.
his forehead knocks against your own, hard enough to make you wince, pain searing through your temples. your noses nudge together, clumsy and inept with the haphazard rolling of his hips, steadily accelerating with each rut against you, desperate to match the pace you’ve set, to exceed the pace you’ve set. the fingers tangled at the back of his skull push further into his hair, fingertips pressing into his scalp in lopsided little circles, evoking another low moan as he shoves his head harder against yours, desperate to give you more room to work.
he’s getting close now, hands tightening as they force you to move even faster, thighs tensing as the pressure in his tummy builds higher and higher, heavier and heavier with each of your motions, hips stuttering as they fall out of tempo again, overwhelmed by the pleasure.
“fuck, f-fuck,” the curse fractures in his throat, eyes shut so tight they crinkle at the corners, breath exhaled in harsh tatters out his nose. “i—i’m gonna—”
“do it,” you nearly beg in a stringy whine. “ruin your jeans for me.”
“oh, christ,” he chokes on a sob, another three gyrations of your hips and then he’s obeying, cock pulsing almost violently and filling his pants with hot, thick cum—so much, too much, way too much that it starts oozing through the denim in viscous, ropy dollops to smear across your inner thighs, the coating pretty and pearly glazing over your skin.
leaning back, you look down, spreading your thighs a little further to examine the damage, tensing and tilting the muscles to fawn at the way his cum shimmers in the dim light.
“now who’s the one making a mess?” you tease with a giggle, gazing at him through your lashes, and he rolls his eyes.
“this is nothing,” he’s growling as he hoists you up, one big hand clamped around your elbow, already beginning to drag you along behind him. “i’m gonna show you what a real mess looks like.”
#shigaraki tomura x reader#shigaraki tomura smut#shigaraki tomura x you#shigaraki smut#shigaraki x reader#shigaraki x you
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Hello I hope your having a good day I would like to request a shigaraki x reader hc on how you think he’d be in a romantic relationship with reader do you think he’d be a good bf or bad? And how would he be before and after the mla
If you don’t want to do this or it’s braking any rules they just ignore it
You get me he definitely changes and I think about it a lot
(pretend i didn't get this ask in feburary)
Shigaraki Relationship Headcanons
Pre MLA:
It’s not that Tomura’s a bad boyfriend on purpose. He just doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing.
It’s hard for him to believe that you actually want him in the first place. You’d have to reassure him every once in a while that you do love him and need him around. On the outside, he’ll brush it off and say he knows that already, but it does make him feel better.
In a relationship, he’d be pretty selfish. He’d put his goals with the League first, even if it ends up negatively affecting your relationship. Once he’s set on a task, the most important thing to him is completing it regardless of what happens to him. He’ll ignore your protests of it being too dangerous or time-consuming until he gets it done.
It’d be different every day with him. On some days he’s clingy and wants you within arm's reach all day, and on other days it seems like he wants nothing to do with you.
You’d have to deal with his tantrums, too. Sometimes he’ll take it out on you and other times he wants you there to listen to him rant about it. It’s unpredictable.
He’d have a hard time displaying affection–instead of actual words, he’d let you pick out the game you’ll play together for once or randomly come back from an outing with your favorite food.
Physical touch is rare with Tomura, too. Even if you figure out some way to block his Quirk, he doesn’t trust it. He just can’t risk destroying something as important as you. The countless incidents of accidentally dusting things hold him back from touching you.
He won’t even risk falling asleep on the couch with you, let alone sleep in the same bed as you.
When he does feel like he can touch you, the most you’ll get is your pinkies being linked or three fingers resting on your thigh.
Post MLA:
Still doesn’t fully know what he’s doing but it’s getting better!
Tomura’s more aware now. His goals still take precedence, especially with attaining All For One being so near, but he’ll think of you more. He sees how upset you were after he’s almost killed by ReDestro and realizes he probably needs to think more about your feelings too.
He’s much more likely to listen to you–if you plead for him to stay and not move onto another dangerous mission so quickly, he’ll sigh and agree begrudgingly, wanting to make you happy.
He’s more mature now, too. His tantrums are basically gone, but when he’s frustrated with all these new people in the MLA, he’ll still use you as the person to vent his frustrations too. He knows you'll listen to him without being annoying about it.
Tomura’s still not big on verbal affection, but with the new money from the MLA, he’s able to get you whatever you want. The most romantic words you’ll get from him are “I got you this” and an expensive present tossed in your lap.
If you’re a member of the League/MLA, he does tell you that he values you much more than the others. In his mind that’s almost like saying he loves you.
He’d still have his days where he wanted to be left alone, but they’re much less dramatic than before. He'll sulk by himself for a bit but won't be as rude about it.
The biggest change is physical touch. Now that he can choose when Decay activates, he needs to make up for all the times he wanted to touch you and couldn’t.
It doesn’t matter what you’re doing–playing games together, reading, sleeping, even at an MLA meeting–Tomura wants to be touching you. He’s constantly near you, arms wrapped around you or a hand on your body. Your space is now also his space.
Forget needing your own room in the Gunga Mountain Villa. He wants you around almost all the time, including being in bed with him.
He’ll only agree to let you go when you need to use the bathroom or something similarly urgent. Touching you is his way of showing he loves you and needs you, even if he won’t say it.
Overall, he’s much more attentive and mature than before, even if he still doesn't know what he's doing.
#shigaraki tomura x reader#shigaraki x reader#shigaraki tomura x you#tomura shigaraki x reader#tomura shigaraki#mha x reader#mha#bnha#tomura headcanons#shigaraki hc#shigaraki headcanons#mha hcs#mha headcanons#lov
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Arcade
Summary: There's nothing worse than getting ditched by your so-called friends on a Friday night. Well, maybe the asshole complaining about your skills at the arcade has that beat. Tomura Shigaraki knows how to make one hell of a first impression. word count: 8.5k Part three to Good Girl and Bloodline Content: Tomura Shigaraki x female reader, quirkless AU, fluff, angst, virginity loss, virginity kink, corruption kink, mutual masturbation, vaginal fingering, oral (f! receiving), praise, strict parents, toxic parents, smut with plot, protected sex, piv, overstim, tomura talks you through it, if you know what i mean, reader is kinda bad at games sry, mdni crossposted to ao3 | Part 4 is here!
You meet him on a Friday.
The mall is crowded and filled to the brim with groups of friends, chattering, laughing – wondering what to get into for the night. You’re just trying to find your group. They said that they would meet you here almost an hour ago, but no one has shown up.
Bitterly you kick the small rock in front of you, officially accepting the fact that you had been ditched and decide it’s too early to go home. It’s a Friday night for pete’s sake. You walk aimlessly through the mall, only pausing when the noises of video game lasers and hyper dance music flood your ears.
The arcade. Of course you could kill some time there, people go there alone all the time. No one would think you were out of place and effectively ditched.
You make your choice, beelining for the upgraded rendition of Pac Man and slipping in a coin to start it.
The excitement was short lived as you remembered that the game isn’t as easy as you remembered. Whatever, you take your leave and try for a game you hadn’t played before. Something simple with muted colors. It’s fun, but a little difficult. You find yourself getting lost in it, the sounds drowning out the bustling of the arcade.
You huff as you lose another round and reach down, ready to drop a coin and start up again when you hear an annoyed groan coming from behind.
“Can I help you?” You ask, giving the guy a once over. He wore all black with ashen hair and ruby red eyes that shone with annoyance.
“Yeah, you could find another game to suck at.” He scoffs, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.
Irritating.
You take the challenge. “Oh yeah? Well let's see you try it then, since it’s so easy.”
He shrugs, brushing by you and inserting his own coin into the machine, the beeps of the game starting up and filling tension between you.
This guy… was good at the game — as much as you hated to admit it. He blew through the enemies with little to no trouble and easily passed your place in the game. Ending it all with one final blow to the boss and snagging the new high score right before your eyes.
To say you were embarrassed was a little less than an understatement, but you wouldn’t let him know that. So, you double down, brows furrowed and standing proud.
The mystery man turns back to you, carmine eyes gleaming in triumph over his easy win. “See? You suck.”
You bristle at his blunt insult and bite back. “Yeah, well I only tried this game today! You think you're so good, why don’t you try to beat me at a game I'm good at.”
He looks you over, eyes dragging from your head to the converse on your feet, before turning back around towards the game and dropping another coin into it.
“No thanks.”
This asshole… you don’t know why you're fighting this battle, you don't even know this man! But it would be a lie if you didn’t think it was entertaining —- in an annoying way, of course.
But you take your loss and give up, moving on to the next game. It is something silly and bright, but also difficult. It's easy to get lost in and you find yourself aggressively tapping the buttons, inevitably losing the game and huffing off to find the next one.
You choose a first person shooter this time. Originally a two player game, but you play on your own — taking down zombie after zombie as you try (and fail) to progress to the next stage.
You groan as the game over screen mocks you for what feels like the thousandth time that night and fight to keep from banging your head against the screen in frustration.
“You’re doing it wrong,” a low voice speaks from behind you and you can already feel your anger flaring. “It’s all in the aim.”
“Yeah, well, what do you know?” You ask bitterly, watching as the same asshole from before puts a coin in and starts the game up again.
He makes it look so easy, getting headshot after headshot as he easily advances to the next rounds. There was a moment you swore he would lose as a mob of zombies crowded him, but he hit a flammable container in the background, causing an explosion and killing all of the zombies.
The winning screen lit up his pale cheeks in a red hue, giving him a faux flush of color making the butterflies in your stomach go wild.
You can’t bite back your sigh of defeat this time, the losing streak getting to you. “Did you come over here just to show off? I can do without that, thank you.”
He only shakes his head, putting in another coin and starting the game up again. You stare blankly as he hits the two player button and hands you a gun.
“No, let me show you why you’re not winning.” It's spoken like you asked him for advice and you know damn well you didn’t, but you take the gun anyway because you had no reason not to.
Muttering a taut fine and gearing yourself up for more humiliation, you stand tall and hold the plastic gun up to the screen, ready to shoot incoming enemies.
You jolt when you feel the guy come up behind you, placing his hands over yours and moving them so that you have a better grip on the weapon.
It was so quick and so natural your cheeks began heating for a reason completely different from your earlier embarrassment.
He was so warm, his hands were warm and calloused and you could feel the heat of his body radiating onto your back as he invaded your personal space to show you how to hold the plastic gun.
Your heart hammered against your chest but you forced yourself to keep your eyes forward and face neutral.
It was much easier said than done, you realize as he leans in, his soft hair tickling your ear as he spoke, guiding you through the mini tutorial of how to shoot the zombies.
Everything he said went in one ear and out the other as you could only focus on the low vibrato of his voice, explaining as his fingers ghosted over yours, casually helping you shoot.
The smell of fresh linen and what you could assume was citrus shampoo flooding your nose, making you dizzy as you struggled to listen. You wanted nothing more than to lean back into this stranger, fully feel the warmth of his chest against your back and run your fingers through his soft locks. But you didn’t.
You will yourself to focus on the sounds of the game and his technique, knowing that you will probably be playing the game soon and didn’t want to look silly if your skill remained the same.
Unfortunately, he pulled away sooner rather than later, taking all of his extra warmth and citrus scent with him.
“Do you get it now?” He asks, rasp in his voice having genuine curiosity and you nod, ready to try your luck at the game now.
It seems like his tutoring wasn’t in vain and you both pull out a win, scoring high enough to place your names on the screen.
You can’t hide your excitement from your first win of the night, turning to your new companion as he looked over the other high scores on the board.
“So, what’s your name?” You ask, riding the high of the win and letting the confidence of it guide you. “Because I don't think it would be DustKing like your high score says.”
He gives a small laugh, something tiny and barely there – a mere blow of air through his nose — and looks at you. Those carmine eyes send heat rushing to your cheeks again and spreading to the tips of your ears.
“Tomura.” Is all he gives and you nod, giving him your name and turning back to the arcade game again.
“Wanna give it another try?” You offer, and he gives you a small smile back, dropping a coin into the machine and starting up another round.
“Sure.”
And suddenly, being ditched on a Friday night by your so-called friends isn’t so bad.
—---------------------
The next time you meet Tomura, it is on a saturday afternoon.
The arcade is already bustling with people and the noise almost makes you turn on your heels and walk away. But you don't, instead white hair and dark clothes catch your eye and your feet move before your mind can catch up with the actions.
“Hey!” You greet, a little too chipper and a little too close.
Tomura looks down at you, eyes dropping to your shirt and then back up again. You weren't sure if he had been checking you out or trying to size you up. It makes you falter a bit as he goes back to his game, effectively ignoring you.
The behavior is odd, but you try not to let it bother you. The last time you met the both of you played the silly zombie game until the arcade closed — there was no way he didn’t remember who you were.
You feel a little out of place and the tiniest bit hurt as you take a step back, ready to find any other distraction in the arcade to erase this from your brain.
“Um, okay, bye then—” You start, but you’re cut off by Tomura’s groan. He lost the game and it's difficult to hold back the laughter.
“God, you’re such a distraction. You made me lose!” He barks, riling you up.
Your brows furrow in frustration, you’ve barely said two words to the guy. “How did I make you lose? I just got here!”
“Yeah, and you're being all distracting, with your little shirt and your jeans. What do you want?”
What the hell was that supposed to mean? The statement is lost on you as your anger takes the forefront. “Don’t blame me because you’re off your game today.”
“I will blame you, because it’s your fault.”
“Whatever, Tomura. Since you’re done losing at this game, why don't you try one you;ll need real skill to play?” you challenge and hope he takes the bait, the irritated narrowing of his eyes shows that he will and you bury your giddiness inside.
“Fine, I'll try it.”
Tomura loses. Bad. And you can't stop the tears from crowding your eyes as you laugh at his misfortune.
“No, why did you rush out so fast?” You hear Tomura’s low growl of annoyance and continue, “This is not that kind of game! Slow and steady wins the race, you know.”
Wiping the tear from your eye, you try again, dropping a coin and gearing up for the next round while Tomura sits beside you, seething. The game starts up again and it's bright and inviting. You strategically tap at the buttons, ensuring that your duck character can make it across the street safely.
It's only when you hear the splash of the fallen duck next to yours that you break out into laughter once more, accidently tapping the button and sending your duck into the open road, ending the game for you both.
“This game is rigged!” Tomura protests, frustration palpable and scowl deep on his face.
You only shrug, knowing it's not an easy game, “Well, I'm sure you’d say that about any game you aren't good at.”
“That's a lie.” He states. Blunt and firm. This guy… He’s so rude, but so cute. You want to bite him.
“It's not,” You keep your voice light as you tease, not wanting to push him too far. “You don’t have patience so of course you would lose.”
“I could beat you at other games.”
This piques your interest, brows flying up. “Oh, yeah? Like what?”
He shrugs, irritation all but dissipated. “Mario Kart. 200cc. It takes patience and it’s not rigged.”
You take the bait, fingers twitching in anticipation, “Sure, but look where we are. There is no Mario Kart here.”
The look tomura gives you makes you wonder if you’d asked if the sky were blue. “I have Mario Kart at my house. Stop by and I'll kick your ass at it.”
You are stubborn, and decide fine. If he wants to be cocky, then you could bring him down a notch. “Alright, let's go and we'll see.”
He nods and you both take off, leaving the noise and excitement of the arcade behind.
Tomura was not lying when he said Mario Kart required patience.
You were currently in his room, on his bed as you try and fail to correct your character's position on the race track. You were stuck against a wall and slowly turning the opposite way, meanwhile, the other karts whip past your character — mocking while you firmly sat in dead last.
The small laugh Tomura gives is enough to send you into a rage. Standing up, you grip the controller with force, twisting and turning with it as if it would give you more control over your character. It did not.
“Oh, come on!” You shout.
“You have to use your brakes at this speed.” Tomura supplies, his character crossing the finish line and cheering at its win.
Your frustration is blinding because once again, those large, warm hands were covering yours, Tomura’s low voice filled with amusement as he guided your character to the finish line.
Embarrassment wasn’t enough for what you were feeling. Not only did you talk shit and lose, but you needed help from him again.
He pulls away and you fleetingly think it’s too soon, watching as Tomura grabs his own controller and flips through the options. “We could try a slower cc. 200cc is brutal to newer players.”
“You knew that and you still let me play it?” He clearly set you up, you bitterly realize as you sit next to him on the bed, watching the screen.
“Yeah, for all I know you could have been a prodigy. You weren't though, so it’s nothing I have to worry about.”
“Hey!” You scold, smacking his arm and grabbing the controller. “Fine. Let's do 50cc and see how good you are.”
Tomura shrugs, plucking the item from your hand and getting more comfortable. “Sure, but don’t think slower races will mean you’re better.”
The next race goes about the same as the first one, but at least this time your character sticks to the road and you’ve even placed higher this time. Eighth place! Take that.
“Impressive,” Tomura drags, voice stripped of malice and insults. It was a small feat, but still better than twelfth place.
It's hard to keep your excitement down, a stark contrast to Tomura’s reserved demeanor. You’ve only met him recently but he's already perfected the way to get your feathers ruffled and rile you up.
“Yeah, well I'm going to buy the game and practice on my own. Just wait, you’ll be in last place soon.” You had the gaming console, but never this game. It wouldn’t be too steep of an investment.
Tomura hums, pondering a moment before responding, “You could always just come over and practice. No need to waste the money when I have it.”
His words make you pause, slowly realizing where you are and who you're with. Some guy you met at the arcade — in his home, in his room, playing video games. How did that happen so fast? Your parents would kill you.
“I guess.” You look around, suddenly wanting to find anything else to focus on that isn’t the man beside you. Now that you think about it, you’ve never really been alone with another guy before. Especially not in his room. Sure, you had all kinds of male friends, but never any this close. It made you… nervous. And warm.
Very warm. Something that spread from the pits of your abdomen and crawled its way back up into your cheeks.
You hoped Tomura wouldn't notice your blush and searched your brain for any way to get out of this situation.
But then he was speaking again and god, was his voice always this low?
“Do you want to go another round?”
“Huh?” You stammer, looking over and it was a mistake because you were forced to notice how close you two were sitting, on his bed of all places. You shake the thoughts from your head, “y-yeah, we should play another round.”
You reach for the controller and Tomura stops you, grabbing your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes.
“Hey, what's your problem?” Blunt. Rude. Fucking cute.
It's settled. You hate this man.
His brows furrowed as he moved closer, examining your face as if he could peer into your mind with his eyes alone. It made you want to shrink away, but that would only make his observation worse.
“Are you... getting nervous?” Your eyes widen at the words and you pull away completely, shaking your head,
“No! Of course not.” You cross your arms in a huff and absently wonder if you could take your leave now.
“You are,” he decides, a slow grin creeping across his face, “Why?”
You're sure the ground will open up and swallow you whole if you just wish hard enough for it. Maybe then Tomura would back up out of your personal space and shut up.
“I'm not nervous.” You bluff, praying he won’t see through you.
“I know why.”
You brace yourself for mortification.
“It’s because you know you’re going to lose.”
He has that smug smile on his face and it hits you.
He has no idea. Tomura doesn’t get it — he thinks you’re upset about the game and not the fact that you can smell the citrus of his shampoo and see the flecks of black in his red eyes.
God, maybe he’s an idiot.
You want to kiss him.
“Don’t be nervous,” he assures, giving you a little smile and grabbing the controller again, “I’ll walk you through it.”
There was something about Tomura’s choice of words that made you think maybe, just maybe, he had a little more of an idea about your mood than he let on. You press your thighs together, praying it was subtle, and mentally push away the arousal you began to feel at his low tone of voice.
“Sure.”
The next round you both play goes the same as the others. Tomura winning and you barely breaking the top ten. Your frustration was becoming palpable as it no longer was fun to see your character cry at the end of the match.
“We don't have to play anymore.” You look over at Tomura’s words and he’s stretching, eyes closing at the movement. You can't help but notice the sliver of his exposed abdomen as he reaches up.
You get a glimpse of his lithe figure and feel your mind begin to wonder what the rest looks like, but cut your thoughts short as he adjusts and meets your eyes again.
You should get out of here before you embarrass yourself.
“Where are you going?” Tomura questioned, the minute you stood to leave.
“Um, home? It’s getting late.”
“Not that late. C’mon, it’s a Saturday. You have somewhere to be or something?” He’s getting up and you can only assume it's to get another game. You are correct because he turns to show you the case and it’s of a white goose. “This game is more fun.”
You look at the time on your phone and shrug. He's right, it's not that late — there should be no harm in staying a little longer.
So you do.
And it’s worth it as you both watch two geese in the game with excellent teamwork terrorize a farmer.
“Okay, you distract him and I’ll take his hat.” You were on a mission and Tomura indulged you, making his goose honk while yours swooped in, effectively stealing the hat and allowing you both to progress to the next level.
“Hah! I knew that would work.” You feel elated as you watch the geese move on, waddling across the screen and into the next area, “And you’re not so bad yourself, for a goose.”
Tomura huffs a laugh, shallow and light before turning to you, “I carried you that round, but okay.”
You haven't known each other long, but he already knows his way around getting you riled up.
The comment makes you turn so that you are better positioned on his bed, one leg still hanging off the end of it while trying not to puff your cheeks. You would be fighting a losing battle if he saw how riled up you were.
“Hey, I’m the one who told you where the picnic blanket was!”
“Okay? And who brought everything to the blanket?” he leaned forward, invading your space and challenging.
You didn’t back down, both of you so close, almost nose to nose. “You. but only after I found everything.”
The distance between the two of you was slim, and the air was heated, his crimson eyes looked down at you with that smug smirk on his lips and you wanted to bite him.
Or kiss him.
Whichever came first.
Tomura followed your line of sight and it only made his smug expression worse, if that were even possible — yet neither of you backed away. His lips parted like he was on the edge of saying something, but was cut off by the peppy chime of your phone’s ringtone.
That seemed to dissipate some of the tension between you two as it caused you to back away and scramble to find your phone on his bed.
Once you’ve gotten it and answered, there’s the familiar voice of your mother on the other end, worrying about where you are and questioning when you would be home, standard practice for her. After many reassuring yeses and “i’ll be there soon”’s you are finally free of the call, now knowing that you have to wrap this up and head out.
“Who was that?” Tomura questioned and his voice seems loud in the quiet of the room.
You turn back to him and his eyes are waiting, expecting. He’s not doing anything but looking at you and it still feels like he can see all of you, as if you’re naked and bare, exposed completely.
“My mom.” You can’t help the small shrug of your shoulders, feeling a little embarrassed at how uncool it could look to have your parents keep tabs on you all the time.
“Aww,” Tomura coos, and it's said more like an afterthought, something to fill the air as he leaned forward — finally, finally closing the distance between you both and kissing your lips.
It shocks you as you feel the soft cotton his duvet hit your back, Tomura’s lips still pressed to yours as he pushed you down. They were rough but so warm, just like the rest of him, and your hand seeks his hair, finally indulging in the urge you’ve had to touch it since you’ve met him.
He groans when you give it a tug and you whimper when he bites your lip a little too hard. It drives you crazy and Tomura wastes no time in deepening the kiss, his tongue swiping over yours as his hands slide up your shirt. You let out a gasp when he cups your breast, taking a sensitive nub between his forefinger and thumb. The feeling has you mewling into his mouth and arousal soaking your panties.
It doesn’t take much to get you riled up, especially since the furthest you’ve ever gone with a guy is a kiss here and there.
Tomura crowds your senses as he hovers over you, caging you below him as he sits between your spread legs. Your heart races as you keep your eyes squeezed shut, you don’t know how far you’re going to go, but you definitely did not think you would be losing your virginity today.
He pulls away, lifting his shirt up and over his head, tossing it somewhere on the floor of the room. You waste no time taking in the new sight of his exposed chest, desperate to reach your hands out to touch.
But Tomura was back down again before you had a chance to, his mouth making its way down your jaw and neck leaving kisses and licks in its wake. It’s sensitive, especially when Tomura sucks right on a particular spot on your neck, making you cry out.
“D-don’t leave a mark.” You stutter, words nearly lost to the pleasure.
“Why not?” The warmth of his tongue licking the area he’d just sucked on was making you shiver.
Your hands were gripping his shoulder, desperate for any kind of grounding. “Because my parents. They would k-kill me.”
Tomura hums, seeming to take your concern into consideration before pulling away. You’re worried you’ve blown it and ruined the mood, but he just tugs at your shirt.
“Get this off.”
You can feel the heat on your face, from the kissing, but now you feel it burn more as you gaze at the man above you. The words make you stall, process what's going on — what you should do.
No one’s seen you without a shirt, especially not in this situation, but honestly? Who cares. You’re an adult, you can and will make your own choices.
There’s no one else in this room but you and Tomura, so when you sit up to remove your shirt and bra, catching Tomura’s eyes scan your newly exposed body, you can’t help but smile at the chill of excitement that dances down your spine.
It makes your heart flutter so you pull him back into a kiss and back down onto the bed, fisting your hands in his ashen locks again and savoring the groans he made.
Tomura makes his way down again, taking your right breast into his mouth and tweaking the nipple of your other with his free hand. The sensations are overwhelming and you moan, arching your back and trying with all you had to pull Tomura closer.
He obliged by lowering his hips and grinding down against you, the press of his erection against your clothed cunt drives you wild. Tomura comes back up, claiming your mouth again and he is demanding as he deepens the kiss, giving you everything you wanted and more.
You wanted to take it further, needed to take it further, but you weren’t sure how to progress from making out. Telling Tomura you were a virgin would probably make things awkward and you were going to lose it if everything ended here.
Tomura pulls away to look at you, flushed and red while you ponder what to do with your hand placement. You decide to wrap them around Tomura’s neck, pulling him close enough that he rests his forehead on yours.
Your breaths intertwine as you both stare at each other in a daze.
“What?” He asks first, breathless and curious.
You cut your eyes to the side, hoping your scoff came off as unconcerned instead of wildly nervous, “Nothing! Nothing..”
Your tone is not lost on Tomura as he narrows his eyes, gears turning in his head and piercing gaze seemingly looking through you and into your deepest thoughts. “Why are you being shy like a virgin?”
The way you purse your lips gives you away and you do everything to avoid his gaze, which is hard when you’re both so close to each other.
“Oh my god, you are.” There’s a whimsy excitement in his voice and suddenly, embarrassment is creeping its way back into your mind, “why didn’t you say so?”
You look up as Tomura pulls back, his smile open wide on his face, ill hidden elation buzzing in his words.
There’s your innate need to defend yourself and your honor rising up again and you can’t stop yourself. So what if you’re a blushing virgin. “Yeah, so? Aren’t you?”
His shoulders give a small shrug, “Maybe.”
Then he’s down again, lips next to your ear as his hands trailed down your waist, leaning goosebumps in their wake.
“Have you ever made yourself cum before?” He asks and you can feel his smile against your ear.
Embarrassment has officially taken the forefront of your mind as you weakly shake your head no, “I’ve tried, but when I get close the feeling goes away.” Might as well be honest since it can’t get more vulnerable than this.
Tomura hums, one hand reaching to take your hand in his, “I could show you how, if you want.”
You feel his hand drag yours lower, down your body and to the hem of your pants and stop, waiting for a response. It feels like your nerves are in overdrive and you writhe below him in anticipation, nodding your head, “P-please.”
Tomura pulls away, taking his warmth with him as he reaches down to unbutton your pants, removing them and leaving your panties.
“You’re soaked.” He muses, causing you to whine in anticipation. “Show me how you do it.”
And you do, slipping your hand under your panties and biting back a moan as your middle finger rubbed circles on your clit. You were dripping wet so your fingers glide easily and the feeling makes your eyes close.
It's a song and dance you are familiar with in the heated nights of your bedroom. Trying and failing to make yourself cum because you’ve read about it, it’s supposed to feel good, but you just can't get there.
Tomura watches on, absently palming his erection and watching you touch yourself. As much as he wanted to reach down and help you out, there was something about seeing you whine and writhe in his bed that made his brain wild.
You were getting close and you knew because there was that familiar sensation of heat pooling in your lower belly, it was a pressure that got more and more intense as you chased after it, but every time, your hands would get tired and you would lose it. And with the momentum gone, you lose the orgasm.
Your furrowed brows went from aroused to frustrated within the span of a second as, once again you’ve unintentionally denied yourself release.
“Fuck,” Tomura breaths, hand now fully in his sweat pants as his breathing picks up, “you were close.”
“I know!” You whine, unsure what to do now, but Tomura has a few things in mind. He pulls his hand from his pants, not wanting to ruin his own orgasm and hooks his fingers on both sides of your panties, pulling them down and tossing them to the side.
You were fully exposed and the only thing keeping you from pressing your thighs together and holding your dignity close was Tomura between them.
You wish he wouldn’t look so much, but he does, drinking up the sight of your exposed cunt and licking his lips. You’re about to call him out of it before he dips back down, capturing your lips in his and it distracts you.
It distracts you so well that the press of his thumb over your slick nub makes you cry out, the pleasure sudden and better than you imagined. Tomura devours your moans, rubbing slow circles onto your clit and easily picking up where you left off. Your hands find purchase on his back and your toes curl at the sensation.
He had just started, but it was just right and you couldn’t stop yourself from arching your back, desperate for more and overwhelmed by the stimulation.
“T-tomu..” You moan as you feel the horizon of warmth again and bury your face into his neck.
“Yeah,” his lips are by your ear again and you close your eyes, fully focusing on the feeling of his thumb working your clit and his low voice in your ear, “Just let go for me.”
And it all hits you, pussy pulsing in pleasure as you come undone, your cries muffled by your face in his shoulder. It feels like the end of a long marathon as the bliss spreads through your body like a warm blanket.
You could only lie there as Tomura pulled away, kissing your sternum and all the way down until he was at eye level with your cunt. The action confuses you because he had just made you cum so why was he..?
“What are you doing?” You ask, confusion muting the buzz in your head.
His eyes meet yours, mischievous glint in them sending the butterflies in your stomach wild. “We’re not done yet.”
And before you could question the man further he dips down, warm and wet tongue meeting your slit and diving into your slick entrance. The action makes you jolt, keening at the sensation and thighs reflexively closing against Tomura’s head. This action only spurred him on further as he lapped and dipped his deceptively long tongue in and out of your wet entrance, sticky slick walls clamping down on him as he sloppily ate you out.
He was relentless as he drove your pleasure up the wall — blowing your previous orgasm out of the water with this new sensation.
“Fuck, tomu — fuck its..!” You can’t form a coherent sentence because the pleasure was only building and building, giving your brain no time to catch up with your words. Your hands immediately found purchase in his hair, the soft ashen locks grounding you as he continued his actions, unbothered by your tight grip.
Tomura decided to move up, licking his way from your hole to your clit, the overstimulated bud was next on tomura’s list as he lapped and kissed your bundle of nerves.
The actions make you cry out, mind muddled as your body tries to figure out if you want to be closer or further away from the sensations. You don't have much time to reach a conclusion either as Tomura sucks your clit and your second orgasm of the night quickly builds up and spills over, making your back arch from the bed and your legs shake in pleasure.
It feels like your mind is completely blank as tomura gives your cunt a final lap and your clit one last kiss before returning to meet your eyes again.
You were face to face now and watching him grin down at you, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had made a deal with the devil himself as your mind swam in the pleasure radiating throughout your body. It all felt surreal, and your eyes naturally closed, enjoying the feeling of your second climax.
“Aw, don’t tap out on me now, I haven’t even given you the final boss yet,” you hear Tomura coo, finally moving to remove his sweatpants and boxers and oh—
You watch his cock bob between his legs and panic internally as you wonder how the hell that would fit inside of you.
It’s like Tomura could read your mind, because his laugh brings you back to the present, “don't worry about it, promise it’ll fit.”
You don't know if you should trust him on that, but you do — mentally preparing yourself as Tomura leans over you and into the drawer of his bedside nightstand. He pulls out a square foiled packet and it’s in that moment you realize – no, he was not a virgin and only humoring you.
You don't have much time to dwell on it though because in no time he has the condom on and is lining himself up with your entrance.
The nerves are making themselves known as the reality of your situation starts to set in. The thoughts don’t flood your mind for long because Tomura takes your chin in his hand, demanding your undivided attention as he slowly pressed into your cunt.
The pressure of the stretch makes you whimper and your eyes reflexively close, but he was only getting started. It was the somewhat soothing feeling of Tomura’s thumb stroking your cheek that kept you grounded and able to withstand more of the stretch.
Little by little, Tomura pushed on, guiding you with his words and reassuring you that it wouldn’t hurt for long. He was right up against your ear, the familiar smell of his shampoo bringing you comfort as your bodies intertwined.
“That it,” he guided, voice low and hips still as he bottomed out. You felt so full. It was a sensation you’ve never imagined and could only whine as tomura started to pull back. “I’m gonna move now.”
Even though the pain was there in the initial thrusts, there was also the feeling of dull pleasure, slowly growing and growing until the previous pain had all but gone away and now you were floating in ecstasy as Tomura’s thrusts began to speed up.
You gripped at his forearms as he gained momentum, hips rocking into yours and making you moan.
“You like that?” he husked, lips brushing your throat as his hips snapped forward and hit a particularly sensitive spot inside.
“F-fuck, again, do that again,” you cry and Tomura focuses his attention right where you want him to. The feeling is euphoric as you feel a different kind of coil tightening in your lower abdomen. A feeling that makes your toes curl and your thighs tense and it's hit again and again.
Tomura lets out a low groan, his own pace becoming unsteady as time went on. “You’re so tight..” he murmured, reveling in the feeling of your slick walls clamping down on him, “‘s like you’re sucking me in.”
You’re nearing the end again, you can feel it, but you don't want to be. This all felt so good. “Tomu, I-I’m—”
Tomura cuts you off, pulling away to look you in the eyes, his ruby red gaze was hypnotizing. “Just let go, I’ve got you.”
And you do, that’s all it takes for you to tip over — mind rushing in bliss as your heart fluttered at his words.
You felt this orgasm deep in your bones, the overwhelming feeling of clarity and contentment settling within you as you were now along for the ride, enjoying Tomura’s increasing erratic pace while he chased his own orgasm.
“Oh, fuck—” he pants, following behind you with his own climax. His eyes were squeezed shut as he rode it out, slowing to a stop and dropping his head onto your shoulder.
The heavy breaths between you were the only sounds in the room as you stare at his ceiling — noticing the faded out green stars above. So faint you were sure they had been placed there years and years ago. It brings a warmth to your chest, something new among your many new feelings you’ve felt today.
“Next weekend,” Tomura starts, still sounding a bit winded as he pulls out — and you wince at the soreness, the pain not really something you were prepared for — and lays next to you, “Next weekend we’ll rematch in Mario kart. I’ll help you get better.”
You smile, the buzzing excitement making you flush, “Okay, let’s do it.”
The next morning is one that leaves you with a forming pit in your belly. It is a Sunday morning, and Sundays are the day’s your family loves to enjoy a homemade breakfast and sit together at the table like a loving family.
And they were loving! Loving and observant.
You felt as if your parents knew. Like they knew where you had been yesterday — somehow seeing through your foolproof lie of hanging out with an old school friend, but things were quiet.
Everything on this Sunday morning had been proceeding as normal. Your parents were sitting across from you, none the wiser and laughing about a show they watched last night while you were out.
It did not feel real. It felt like there was something you were missing, as if they were omnipotent and knew your every move. Knew that you were no longer their shining star child, that you had been up to things that were everything but innocent.
You feel the same, physically. Maybe a little sore from how rough Tomura had gotten, but other than that, normal.
“Sweetheart,” your father’s voice calls you, cutting through your paranoia, “could you pass me the syrup, please.”
And you do, maybe with too much haste, but he does not comment on it. Instead he just pours the sugary liquid onto his pancakes and continues. “So your mother and I were thinking,”
Oh, god. They knew.
“We know you’re taking a semester off, but if you aren't happy with that college, we could look into other’s for you.”
Your shoulders relax. It’s just college talk, again. That was talk you could handle.
“Um, yeah. That’s okay with me. I could always use more options.”
Your father smiles, “That’s our girl. Always so flexible with her options. We know it takes a lot of strength to take a break, but you did. We’re so proud of you.”
The smile that graces your face is pitiful and filled with guilt that you prayed was not obvious. They really saw the best in you, no matter how suffocating they were. so it’s only right you follow the path that they lay out for you.
“Our girl could never do any wrong,” your mother chimes in, chipper and full of admiration, “you’re just so smart.”
You only nod, now trying to tune them out as they go back and forth, discussing possible college they believed would be best for you.
It really makes you wonder just how far that love and pride stretched when their angel of a daughter strays against what they expect of you.
—-------------------------
And not even six months later that same love and adoration is tested, put on the line and shown bare as your enraged parents look down at you.
The same parents who doted on you about how much you made them smile. You who had made them so proud and apparently brought them so much joy.
It’s suffocating as you sit right back on the very same couch where it all started, listening to a lecture from your mother about the woes and pains of having such a disobedient unruly child.
Even though you’re an adult.
Even though you can make your own decisions about your life.
It’s maddening having to listen to your once so meek and complacent mother go on and on about how she would have never snuck around with some boy she’s only known for a few months. How she would never lie to her parents about her whereabouts and how it’s just unheard of that you would turn your location off.
You shake your head, they wouldn’t understand. Your father wouldn’t even look at you. “Mom, please..” you start, wanting to offer anything to break up the nonstop lecture.
“I just don’t understand!” Her voice is so high it’s nearly a yell, and your mother makes it a point to never yell. “He’s just a man! Why would you put yourself and your future at risk for some guy?”
“He’s not just some guy.” You mumble and curse yourself for trying, they would never see it your way.
There is a buzz from the phone in your pocket and you habitually grab for it, pulling it from its place and you are not given a chance to check the notification before your mother snatches the device from your hand.
“And no phone! This damn phone is the root of all your problems in the first place.”
Disbelief mars your features as the constant drilling catches up with you. “You can’t do that!”
She only folds her arms across her chest, head tilted in challenge, “I can’t? Watch me. You’re lucky we haven’t put you on the street yet with how irresponsible you’ve been.”
It’s hard to understand what’s so irresponsible about taking birth control and practicing being safe. But you knew it was deeper than that. It was deeper than the boy and it was more than sex.
They hated the lack of control they had over you and how it waned with every passing day.
“So, what, was this guy supposed to be the love of your life? Someone you would just run away with and expect to support you?”
Your mother’s voice grates on your ears and you just wish for this conversation to be over, you want this entire thing to be over and done with. “I don’t know. Maybe.” The defeat is evident in your voice and you shrug. “Can I go now?”
They are beating a dead horse at this point and you’re over it.
To your surprise, no one stops you as you rise, allowing you to take your leave before the tears clouding your vision could fall.
The defeat you feel is deep and you can’t even muster the energy to slam your door shut, opting for a quieter close. The fragile click of your door was so soft and it felt as if you were made of glass. To slam the door would only make you shatter into a million pieces onto your bedroom floor.
How foolish of you to think there could ever be a world where you had autonomy in a house filled with hawks.
Your bed greets you with its cozy warmth and you allow yourself to fall apart there, letting out all of your despair and frustration into your pillow and leaving the pieces of your soul to be picked up in the morning.
It’s been a week.
A long, boring, drawn-out week.
You are without your phone, without wifi and without your parents car — so you couldn’t go anywhere if you tried.
It’s been a long week of nothing, not even from Tomura. You assume he can put two and two together and figure out something has gone wrong. The thought brings you a little peace, but not for long.
You barely leave your room and barely say two words to your parents. The isolation is… lonely.
Even if you went out to the living room to watch television, you run the risk of running into one of your parents — and you can really do without another lecture. The only thing on your mind this past week has been Tomura. What was he doing? Did he pick up on your silence? Last time he showed up at your house, but that’s not happening this time around.
You sit up from your bed, realizing that sitting around rotting away would drive you mad, and look to your window. The sun was setting and dusting the rest of the world in pretty orange and pink hues. It would be nightfall soon, and you don't think you could spend another night in this room, alone.
So, against all better judgment, you open your window, look back to listen for any suspicious footsteps — the lack thereof giving you the greenlight — and climb out of your window, stumbling on to the ground as you try to regain your footing from the drop.
You weren't sure where your feet were taking you, but you didn't care, the feeling of fresh air against your cheeks was all you really needed for a clear head.
Your feet lead you to the mall, the start of all your problems and the beginning of your independence.
It felt strange, seeing all kinds of happy faces throughout the mall. Blissfully unaware of their freedoms and enjoying their night. The jarring feeling pushes your feet to the familiar route, flashing colors and blaring music of the arcade greeting you.
It’s comforting, in a way. But you didn’t bring any money. You didn't bring anything but what you were wearing so you could only look around, watching friends and couples alike laugh together.
There's an area near the back of the arcade with tall barstools and empty tables. You decide to take a seat there and sulk on your own. At least you were no longer trapped in your room, forced to watch your four walls while the days passed you by.
You were in a daze, tracing the brown lines on the wooden table with your eyes, until someone interrupted you by sitting right next to you. You turn to face the culprit, less than friendly words on your tongue and ready to let whoever have a piece of your mind.
But you stop in your tracks as ruby red eyes look down at you.
Tomura.
He was here, next to you and your heart fluttered at the realization.
“What’s your problem?” He joked, rasp in his voice comforting to your ears.
You don’t stop yourself from pulling him into a hug, his black hoodie soft and familiar. “How did you know I was here?” You mumble into the fabric and miraculously Tomura understands you.
“I didn’t.” The admission causes you to pull back, looking up at him through your long lashes. “None of my calls or texts went through, and I tried to stop by but your dad was suspiciously outside.” He brings a hand to your head, brushing your hair back and giving you a small smile. “I still like coming here, so I did. Something to pass the time. Ironically, I saw you walk by.
You hum, fighting the pout that wanted to make its way onto your face. “They took my phone. They took everything, even the birth control pills. I can’t keep living like this, Tomura.”
“I know.” He responds, soothing your nerves even with his presence. “I can get you another phone.”
The suggestion only makes you shake your head, it doesn’t tackle the real underlying issue.
“It doesn’t matter. It’s only a matter of time before they find that too. We’ve seen that they aren’t above going through my things. It’s hell. I can’t do it anymore.”
This seems to make Tomura ponder, taking your words in and running them through his mind for a solution. His expression is fixed when he looks back at you.
“Then don’t.”
“What?”
“Don’t go back home.” He elaborates, “Come stay with me. My place is big enough, it shouldn’t matter.”
You are shaking your head before you realize, pulling away from him with a stern look. “No, no I can't do that. I can’t impose on you like that.”
Tomura gives you a halfhearted glare. “It’s not imposing if I'm offering. They’re assholes, and I'm usually home alone anyway. Well, besides Kurogiri.” He leans in, pressing his forehead to yours, “C’mon, just go home tonight, pack a bag and then meet me here tomorrow. Can you do that?”
There was no other option you would want more so you nod, giving a short okay as Tomura presses his lips to yours.
It's set — by this time tomorrow you will be free.
#shigaraki tomura#shigaraki x reader#shigaraki tomura x reader#shigaraki tomura x you#tomura x reader#tomura shigaraki x reader#mha x reader#my works#tomura shigaraki smut#shigaraki smut
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I'd like to request Dabi, Shigaraki, Shinsou, and Toga adopting a cat with platonic!gn reader?
GO KITTY GO!
pairings: dabi x gn! reader, tomura shigaraki x gn! reader, hitoshi shinsou x gn! reader, himiko toga x gn! reader (all platonic)
genre: fluff, platonic
warnings: reader is gender neutral, toga tries to kill the cat (she doesn't), swearing
a/n: hope u enjoy <3 VERY old draft
– dabi
the most time he's spent with cats of any kind is the stray kittens he finds in the alley sometimes, and he didn't have any pets growing up (that he remembers anyway) so he has absolutely 0 clue what he's doing (but I think we all know that).
will steal food and toys nd shit for the cat but will act like he didn't even though it's very very obvious who did it
tries to act like he hates the cat even though you swear you've seen him petting it while it sat on his lap before. don't bother asking him about it. he'll never admit it nor will he tell the truth (the truth being that he loves the little shit)
– shigaraki tomura
i imagine he likes cats just gets a little worried about touching them (worries mainly come from his memories of his dog and... what happened with that)
if we're talking him w the art gloves then he's petting the cat all the time. like, you know those bad guys in movies that turn around in their spinny chair all slow petting a cat that's sitting on their lap? that's boutta be him
another one who tries SO hard to act like a dgaf but you've caught him playing his video games with the cat napping by him. picture evidence and everything so he can't even deny it
– shinso hitoshi
this guy fucking LOVES cats so when u brought the idea up he jumped on that shit real quick (tries to act all chill about it though)
has had to spend a shit ton of money buying more storage for his phone because he legit uses ALL of it on pictures/vids of the cat (also all of his pfps are of the cat, mostly the funny ones). it's starting to lowkey become a problem.
the cats name is suspiciously similar to eraserhead (he says it's because the cat sleeps all of the time like aizawa)
– toga himiko
i'm sorry, but she most likely tried to kill it when u first got it (y'know her whole thing with the bird? yeah, like that). you stopped her just in time, though!! the cat was scared for a while, but now they're besties
her and the cat will just sit there and stare at each other for a while (also do the slow blinking thing). you've seen them do it for 5 min straight before. you don't question it anymore.
makes sure her room is STOCKED with treats, toys, etc, so don't even worry about that (though u should worry about how she got that stuff in the first place)
#dabi x reader#dabi x you#dabi x y/n#tomura shigaraki x reader#tomura shigaraki x you#tomura shigaraki x y/n#shigaraki tomura x reader#shigaraki tomura x you#shigaraki tomura x y/n#hitoshi shinsou x reader#hitoshi shinsou x you#hitoshi shinsou x y/n#shinsou hitoshi x reader#shinsou hitoshi x you#shinsou hitoshi x y/n#himiko toga x reader#himiko toga x you#himiko toga x y/n#toga himiko x reader#toga himiko x you#toga himiko x y/n#bnha x reader#bnha x you#bnha x y/n#mha x reader#mha x you#mha x y/n#bnha x gn!reader#gender neutral reader#platonic
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