#Yandere shigaraki x reader

[yanderenightmare]

tomura with hero reader whose quirk he's stolen, rendering them defenseless

Shigaraki Tomura

TW: slight nsfw, implied prev noncon, captive reader, Stockholm syndrome, implied mental break, mental deterioration, disassociation, manipulation, angsty, but also weirdly fluffy? reader is super fragile

gn reader

The chub of your inner thighs is still wet with the act. You rub them together for no other reason than that it feels pleasant. You trace the awful scars on his arm, using his warm chest as a pillow—the sound beating of his heart thumping rhythmically at your ear, a soothing presence.

 He balances a red book atop your crown.

He doesn’t seem very interested in reading it—only regarding it with jaded eyes, a meager scoff then and there before turning the page. But still, even though the book didn’t excite him, it bothered you that his attention was elsewhere. It sowed the seeds of doubt and gave root to way too many intrusive thoughts, sprouting out and spreading like weeds throughout your mind, making your chest curl at the possibilities.

“Do you think I'm ugly?” you have to ask. You have to know, why isn’t he looking at you.

He pans away from the page, beady garnet eyes softening from scrutiny to nonplus.

Your question stunted him—nearly made him believe he’d heard you wrong. Why someone like you would ever ask someone like him something like that seemed beyond all reason. It would be the same if a flower asked gravel.

But then again, you’d become a little ditzy as of late. Or maybe you’d been so for a little while already. It’s hard to say—you don’t talk as much as you used to. You no longer scream either, though that had ceased even longer ago.

You continue to delicately run your finger over the tear where his tough skin meets the even tougher purple tissue as though mapping the damage. There’s a frown on your face. No, not a frown—a pout. 

He thought for a moment to use it against you like he’d done everything else so far. Lie and say yes, tell you you’re about as ugly as he is—gravel—make you fall even further apart than what you were already. But something compelled him to choose differently.

“I think you're the prettiest thing in the world.”

Your pout is sucked between your teeth as you pick yourself up to peer down at him—eyes round and misty and something more, something strange—dare he say joyed?

You're scaring him.

“Really?” you choke out as if you’d been holding back a lump.

He hasn’t known how to treat you lately. You’ve become too soft to handle poorly—too frail to harass and too willing for him to feel the need to. Earlier, you'd even begged him to fuck harder and deeper—even cum inside. Actually, you hadn't veered away from his touch in a while. More like you've been embracing it.

He'd brushed it off as mere compliance at first, a state of meekness, weakened by being touch-starved, something that perhaps developed into a minor case of Stockholm syndrome.

But the way you're acting now—seems more concerning.

“Yeah,” is all he warrants as an answer. Though, he was curious as to yours as he begs the same question, “What about me?”

A smile graces your face then—there’s a comfort to it, a mild and affectionate one, unexaggerated, honest, as you smoothly swing your leg over his lap.

A look like that has no place on your face, especially when regarding him, and yet he finds himself hoping for more. He lays his book aside as you lean forward and doesn't stop you when you cup his face in both your palms.

“As far as I'm concerned, you’re not just the prettiest boy in the world—you're the only boy in the world.” You say it with a kiss, lips just as soft as the words leaving them. It shocks him, though he accepts and gives it back.

You close your eyes, laying your chest against his—he keeps his open to look at you. Observing and assessing.

You’ve truly become a whole other person altogether. A far cry from the tough hero you once were—the one who’d beat him within an inch of his life and leave him to choke on the blood.

“Will you stay with me today?” you ask against his lips—playing with his hair, looping the curly tresses around your fingers.

There’s a neediness to your voice, a certain desperation, a sadness—something lonely and something that reminds him all too much of himself. He feels both a strong urge to reject and soothe it all at the same time.

“No, I gotta go,” he says despite it. He had business.

You hide your face in his neck and continue with your tracing, now on the scrapes striping his throat where he’s raked his nails time and time again. “When will you come back?” Your tone comes out even sweeter, only a murmur mushed against his skin.

It nearly makes his heart twist. “It’s better I don’t answer that.”

It’s funny. Though the thought had struck him, he didn’t gauge any ill intentions. You could be asking, acting, plotting some escape based on the hours of his absence—yet somehow, with the way you nuzzle into him like that, as though you’re pouring your all-too-candid grief into him, he can't sense any other ulterior motive.

“Last time you left at this hour, you came back all beaten and bruised,” you mutter, now with a hint of bitterness—as if you’re cursing whoever hurt him under your breath.

It’s ironic. He sneers lazily, almost fondly, at the old memory. “You’re the one who used to beat and bruise me, remember?”

He’s truly curious if you do. Or if something’s spirited your past life away and left you like this—no longer an aspiring young hero, but something whose only value is warming his bed at night.

You arise, an appalled look of affront upon your face.

“No, that can’t be right,” you very nearly cry, as if the very thought was killing you. “I would never hurt you—I love you too much.”

Apparently, you don’t remember who you were at all.

“Love me?” he all but croaks. It’s a laughable prospect, and yet he doesn’t even smile. There’s something awful in his gut that prevents him. “Don't be stupid. You can't love me.”

Your face doesn’t drop its grimace, only further tears with forlorn outrage. “Of course, I love you!" you insist. "You’re my whole reason for living...”

You look so despaired—wrecked from his dismissal. The tears well quickly then slip down your face just as fast—and yet it isn’t the same crying as you used to. This time, it’s quiet—in wait or in dread as you beg the question, 

“Don't you love me?”

It’s an unexpected one, and it quickly proves to be an existential one—even more so than your unnerving confession. Despite not wanting to, it leaves him to dig through the muck in his head he’d long ignored, down in the dark where he’d tried burying the truth he'd felt oncoming. He'd wanted to deny it, reject it, amend it, simply because it confused him too much to acknowledge—complicated things—changed things he didn’t want or need changing.

He wonders if it’s somehow proof of fate—even though he despises such a concept. That, no matter how much you practice free will, no matter how many knots you make upon the red string, the world will pull and straighten it out, and you’re left to realize you’d brought it all on yourself.

First, he took your quirk, then he took your body—your mind shortly followed—and now it seems he’s managed to take your heart, too. 

There’s nothing left of you that isn’t his. 

There was a time he’d frolic at the thought of having reduced you to such a pathetic ghost in a shell—back then, he’d do anything to destroy you—he’d surely shatter you into a million little scattered pieces if presented with the chance, make sure you were broken for good. 

But that was the old him. Or rather, that was his dream for the old you—the hero he loathed down to his rotten core.

But the pretty misty-eyed thing looking down at him now, aching for his answer, wasn’t that person anymore.

And the truth is, the person you are now scares him more than that hero ever did. 

You were… well, you were the person who warms his bed at night, the person who traces his scars and plays with his hair—the person who wraps themselves around him and keeps him from falling apart when he stumbles through the door into the tiny little room he keeps you a prisoner in. You're his.

This time, his heart does twist. He’s never before spoken the words that dance on his tongue, or if he has, they’ve been long forgotten and come out as dust balls as he affirms them now, 

“Yes. I love you.”

There’s a flash of hope in your eyes, though it just as quickly diminishes—as if you don’t believe him.

Your lip warbles as you confirm it, “No, you don’t.”

More tears run silently down the tracks on your cheeks, gathering at the tip of your chin before dripping upon his chest—each one like a gunshot through something hollow.

“If you did, you wouldn’t go. You wouldn’t leave me here in this room, all alone.” Your nails curl into your palms where they rest atop him. You bow your head as though you can’t bear to look at him, as if it hurts. The next words come out beneath your breath, “How am I supposed to compete with the whole world?”

You’re making him feel like dying. The continuous twists of his heart feel as if you’re about to tear it right out of his chest.

He sits up and lifts your face. It’s strange, even with his two-finger gloves on. He doesn’t think he’s ever held you like this. Though, suppose it’s been a night of many firsts already. And here comes another,

“As far as I’m concerned, you are my world.”

There you are, the one thing he doesn’t wish to destroy.

Your sore eyes become round, then swell with different tears. There’s a hitch in your breath as you sigh through a shuddering sob, throwing your arms around his neck and clinging to him tightly—your body jostling while you rub your wet face into his neck, holding him close for comfort as if you're scared to ever let go.

He returns the gesture, though somewhat hesitantly, wrapping his arms around you and laying his head to rest against your shoulder.

And then, as he holds you—for the first time ever, fear of actually losing the fight ahead strikes him.

He hadn’t much cared about the outcome before. Either he’d destroy or be destroyed.

This wasn’t as simple. As said earlier, this complicated things.

But then again, it was even more of a reason to go.

“But I still have to leave.” 

You part from him—the betrayal in your tone demanding his justification, “Why?”

Suppose, in some ways, this actually made things simpler—as that was a question he had no problem answering.

“‘Cause there are monsters outside…” He rests his forehead upon yours, gazing back into those terribly glassy eyes looking back at him as he speaks to you about your dear old colleagues. “Monsters who want nothing but to take you away from me.”

If only they could see you now, they’d know… you no longer want to leave him.

“So I have to go out there and make sure they have no chance,” he explains, almost like a vow, “You’re mine, and I’ll destroy anyone who says otherwise to keep you that way.”

The way your eyes melt makes him feel all fuzzy. It’s a special type of glee, a victory before the battle even begins—to see you root for him—so deep in love with him that you’ve forgotten you’re celebrating the onset of death to all of your former friends.

They probably wouldn’t be able to take you away from him even if they somehow managed to invade this very room. You’d sooner die than betray him.

And that makes him feel all the more ready for the war ahead.

“So kiss me good luck, and I’ll come right back to you soon.”

♡ SHIGARAKI TOMURA ♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist

[disaster-writer]

Tear You Apart

Pairing: Dabi x Reader

Summary: Someone in the League of Villains has been drugging you and doing things to you, and you were going to find out who

Word Count: 6.5k

Rating: X 18+

Warnings: Dark fic, smut, noncon, dubcon, masochism, sadism, drugging, mentions of exhibitionism/vouyerism

Minors DNI

There was a cockroach on your bedroom floor.

Your bedroom that was technically a small storage room with only a small futon and a lamp.

It was staring at you.

So you stared back, as your tired eyes tried to adjust to the blurry cockroach that sat no more than five inches from your face as you lay in bed.

You felt like you were hit by a truck.

The cockroach glowed in the sunlight that filtered into the room… you were lucky enough to end up with a window at least. Even if the moonlight never did reach far enough into the far corner of the room, leaving your imagination to run rampant in the middle of the night as to what lay within those shadows.

Though, you don’t think your imagination held a light to your reality now.

The room was spinning, you had to keep adjusting your eyes to the disgusting insect in front of you.

You pulled your bedsheet back ever so slightly, your arm broke through the cocoon of blankets you had wrapped yourself in. Slowly you reached your arm out, pointer finger outstretched, and neared the bug. 

You touched it.

Almost immediately the fucking thing scurried, flipped, and chirped over and over again, running rampant all over the floor. Until after what would be an angonizingly long two minutes for the insect, it died.

Each organ shut down one by one, its little body physically unable to function with the amount of pain a single stroke of your finger caused it.

You pulled your arm back into your cocoon and you stared at the dead cockroach.

You don’t remember taking off your gloves last night. That went for the hoodie you always wore to bed… that went for your pants… that went for your underwear.

You also don’t remember drinking anything last night.

But you were hungover.

Your head wouldn’t stop spinning, you felt like you were going to throw up, and everything just fucking hurt. But the general soreness from the hangover didn’t overshadow the burning, throbbing pain that came from between your legs.

Which meant it had happened again.

You felt your eyes watering, burning tears stinging at your tear ducts.

The first time you tried to chalk it up to falling into bad habits again.

Getting black out drunk was no stranger to you. It had always been easier to turn to the bottle than learn how to control your quirk. It dulled your senses, lessened the harm you could inflict, made you forget what it was to be an outcast of society.

It was safer for everyone that way.

But ever since the broker found you, selling you sweet visions of the future. A future you could help fight for by teaming up with the League of Villains. You had fallen hook, line, and sinker. You quit your vices.

But even if you had decided to drink the night away, that didn’t explain the blood and what you could only assume was dried cum that caked the inside of your thighs.

It was even on your face and in your hair.

That’s what had sent you reeling.

No man, woman, animal, or insect could touch you without immediately doubling over to writhe in pain.

So who the fuck managed to put their cock in you.

You had been so caught up in the how that you never stopped to think about the who until now.

You didn’t want to think of the only logical explanation.

One of your comrades was drugging you and raping you in the middle of the night and now that it’s happened twice, there’s no denying it. No more denying what was clearly in front of you no matter how fucking insane or impossible it should have been.

A choked sob clawed at your dry throat.

Joining this ragtag team of villains was the only thing that ever gave you a sense of purpose in your waste of a life. 

You had nothing.

A father that blamed you for your mother’s death. Telling you that all the unending pain you caused her was the reason she put that gun in her mouth. Out on the streets by fifteen, left to mug people with your quirk just to get by. Getting caught by heroes left and right left you with a criminal record. Alcohol had been your only sense of comfort.

You couldn’t leave the League. You can’t go back to that life.

You don’t know how long you laid in bed covered in those dried fluids and waiting for the world to stop spinning, all you knew was that the sun was setting by the time you forced yourself up and your bladder was fucking killing you.

You extracted your naked body from your cocoon, side stepping the dead roach to gather your clothes from last night that were scattered everywhere.

You pulled your thick black hoodie over your head and your black sweatpants up, hiding the blood and cum so that you could properly take care of it in the bathroom. 

You put your gloves on and pulled your hood up and left the room.

~

“She’s alive! No she isn’t!” Was the first thing that greeted you when you had left the bathroom.

”Hey Twice,” you mumbled, trudging past him and to the bar. You sat down.

Sitting hurt.

You barely looked around the room. You didn’t have to see to know that the entirety of the League was hanging out in that bar. These days it seemed you all were just sitting on your asses and twiddling your thumbs, waiting for the opportunity to make a move.

”Would you like a drink?”

You looked up tiredly to Kurogiri who stood behind the bar and shook your head, the amount of sugar in the mocktail you had Kurogiri make for you sometimes would probably make your pounding headache worse, “Water’s fine.”

You folded your arms on the bar counter and buried your face into them.

You didn’t want to be here with any of them right now but going back to your bedroom with those disgusting stains all over your futon also made you sick.

Either way you were trapped.

You didn’t mind the idle chatter from the others though. You could hear Mr. Compress and Spinner talking behind you in the booth. Twice was on the floor with Toga and from the sounds of it was playing around with his quirk and random items from the bar. Kurogiri talked to Shigaraki to your right of the counter and to your left was a normally brooding Dabi.

One of them had raped you.

You heard a ‘clink’ next to your folded arms, and found Kurogiri placing your water in front of you.

”Thanks,” you mumbled, grasping and raising the glass to your dry lips.

You gulped down the water quickly, draining the glass. You were so, extremely dehydrated.

Placing your glass down you looked to the side, only to find Shigaraki staring at you from behind ‘Father’s’ hand.

Shigaraki always fucking stared.

’The fucking virgin just wants to fuck you. Probably wants to see how long he’d last before you make his dick fall off’

That’s what Dabi had told you after watching you shift uncomfortably in your seat under his unwavering gaze your first night there.

You couldn’t deny he was suspect number 1 on your list.

You pulled the drawstrings of your hood, putting your head back down.

”Where were you this morning. We had a meeting.” 

Fuck— now he was talking to you.

”I had a rough morning,” is what you replied with, words muffled by the fabric of your hoodie.

Your heart beat picked up, beginning to hammer in your ribcage as you heard him stand up.

He was moving closer, sitting himself in the seat next to yours.

He had said nothing for a few long beats and the uncomfortable proximity of his body to yours made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

”Someone was in your room last night.”  

It felt like the air was knocked out of you. 

You slowly peered up at him through your hood, finding Shigaraki watching in sick satisfaction as if he just caught you red handed.

The accusation hung heavily in the air as you tried to find the words. Was he self admitting? Or did he see something? Did he know who it was?

But he continued before you could respond.

”You told us no one could touch you without your quirk activating but you’re fucking all night and missing meetings in the morning. You lied to us.”

“No—“ you blurted, perhaps slightly too loud. You leaned in closer, “I—I don’t— it’s not my fault,” you panicked, “I don’t know what’s happening— I would never lie to you about something like that, please. The League is all I have.”

He eyed you and the tears that brimmed in your eyes. His scrutinizing gaze unwavering from your face as he decided whether or not to believe your words. 

“Fine,” he muttered.

”Do… do you know who it was?” You asked softly, still not completely sure it still wasn’t him to begin with, but if it wasn’t and he did know…

”You don’t know?” He asked, suddenly starting to scratch at his neck.

”No.” you replied, quickly wiping a tear that fell.

He was about to say something when someone cut in.

”Would you just leave the crybaby alone.”

Dabi.

“I’m not a crybaby,” you muttered, finally leaning away from Shigaraki, barely sparing Dabi a glance. 

Shigaraki started scratching with his other hand now, which meant Kurogiri was near, ready to talk him down from whatever ledge he was currently walking on.

”Yeah, sure,” he remarked sarcastically.

You should just go back to your room. You don’t think you can handle talking to someone else that could possibly be violating you.

Unlike Shigaraki, Dabi barely spared you a glance and rarely talked to you. And although he seemed to be more mentally there than some of your other teammates, you wouldn’t put it past him to hurt you.

He still had a cock after all.

Kurogiri refilled your glass.

”Thanks,” you muttered again, taking a sip.

This was too much. Too suffocating. You needed to be alone even if that meant seeing those stains on your bed.

You stood back up, taking your water with you.

”I’m going back to bed.”

With that, you left the room ignoring the stares and the ‘boos’ that followed after you from Toga for leaving so early.

You’d work with them but for now, they couldn’t be your friends.

Not until you found out which of those fuckers had touched you.

-

You isolated yourself after that.

You went through the motions. You did what you were supposed to. You did the quirk training Shigaraki’s master required of you. You went to the meetings. You tried finding new recruits now and then.

But you stopped hanging out with the others and you only spoke to them if it had to do with business with the League.

Toga and Twice seemed to be the most broken up about it, you had been the closest with those two prior to everything.

But the more you were left with your own thoughts the more everyone became a suspect.

Even Toga. She was a shapeshifter and even if it was unlikely, the fact that she even had the ability to transform into the others set you on edge.

And what if Twice was making clones. You knew he didn’t make clones of himself but what if he made that one exception. Or what if he made a clone of one of the others without them knowing and the clone was the one that raped you and Twice killed it after so not even a real person attacked you and you’re just losing your mind in front of everyone and they have no clue as to why-

‘What if, What if, What if’

You were losing your fucking mind.

You weren’t really even sleeping at night, three hours at most. You were too scared someone was going to sneak in. Whoever it was was clearly somewhat resistant to your quirk and your only line of defense you ever relied on was useless.

But you also refused to leave. You had run from every one of your problems your entire life. You weren’t about to do that here. You needed this— a purpose for your life. Hope for a better future.

You needed a plan.

You needed to figure out who was hurting you. How they were drugging you. How they were touching you.

You had just as much of a right to be here as the rest of them and you weren’t going to be trapped in fear.

You just needed a plan.

~

Dabi sat at the end of the bar, off in his own little world, away from the others and their bonding. Away from their talks about nothing that wouldn’t matter in the end anyway. 

It had been another fucking useless day, just a bunch of “villains” sitting around and hanging out.

His own efforts have proven fruitless, everyone out there was trash and finding new recruits was becoming harder and harder to find with each day.

Cyan eyes glanced at the group, some holding careless smiles and laughing, others brooding in their own little minds as well.

They were all there except you.

You hadn’t around them much these days but slowly and surely you had been coming out of your room more and more again. 

It seemed like you were starting to let your guard down again.

But right now you were busy in that old warehouse the League found for you to quirk train. 

Your training in particular was a cruel affair that he’s had the privilege of sitting in on once or twice.

It was more torture than anything else. Trying to see just how much pain you could inflict on unwitting strangers that had been swept off the streets for that reason and that reason alone.

He couldn’t be sure if you enjoyed it or not. Your face always passive and indecipherable in those moments. But you’d do it anyway. You did whatever ‘ol crusty and his master asked of you.

It pissed him off how willingly you followed after that fucking virgin.

It also pissed him off seeing how much Shigaraki enjoyed that.

Dabi sighed, raising his glass to his lips and taking a swig of the drink.

You’d be back any minute now and you’d be tired, exhausted even.

Maybe you’d want to have a quick drink with the others before heading to bed.

His jaw tensed at the thought and he drained the rest of his glass.

Or maybe you’d go straight to hiding in your room again. Barely sparing a glance or a few words with anyone.

Fuck.

He may have overdone it last time. 

But the sight of you beneath him, his hands spreading your thighs wide open, watching his cock thrusting in and out of your tight little cunt— each barbell pierced into his cock disappearing and reappearing one by one while you babbled whatever came to your inebriated mind, tits jolting with every thrust— it was too much. And Fuck— the way it hurt, every nerve ending a live fucking wire—

”Hey guys,” you mumbled tiredly.

He didn’t even hear the door open.

The others greeted you as he watched you approach them in his peripherals. Some greetings more animated than others, in Toga’s and Twice’s case specifically.

”How was quirk training!?” Toga asked with a toothy grin.

”Fine,” you mumbled, taking a seat at the bar next to Compress.

”Would you like a drink?” Kurogiri asked per routine.

”Yeah, surprise me. Just no alcohol,” you nodded, making Toga cheer, happy to see you spending time with them again. “Don’t get too excited. ‘M not staying up for long, I have more quirk training tomorrow morning so I’m going to bed after this one.”

”Aw boo—,” she grumbled. “No fun.”

”Hey, how’s the gun feel by the way?” Spinner asked.

”Still getting the hang of it, but it feels good. Thanks again.”

”Yeah, no problem.”

The conversation shifted as Twice started telling stories of his more adventurous exploits when he was younger. And there was Shigaraki eye fucking you again.

Dabi watched from the corner of his eye as Kurogiri made your drink.

Weeks had passed since that last time he visited you. Kurogiri had made you only four drinks since then.

And Dabi watched patiently as he poured in each ingredient.

But it was tonight that he used the pineapple juice.

You were the only one in the League that drank the pineapple juice.

He watched him place the glass down in front of you. 

He watched you take a sip.

A grin pulled on the corners of his mouth.

From here on out all he needed to do was wait. And Dabi was nothing if not patient. He had to wait for you to finish the drink, wait to hear you tell everyone you were tired and going to bed, and finally wait as each and every member of the League turned in for the night.

Usually by the time he could sneak into your room you were peacefully asleep. Never expecting Dabi to rouse you from your sleep, surprise taking your features every time.

Tonight was no different.

Just like clockwork you were the first to retreat to your room for the night… but not before draining your glass.

Fuck— he was getting excited.

One by one, each of his comrades decided to call it a night.

First Shigaraki and Kurogiri, then Compress, then Toga, Twice, Spinner…

And that made one.

Dabi cleared his throat, choking back the excited giggle that threatened to escape and climbed to his feet.

It had been too fucking long since he’s been able to indulge like this. With not much else to do these days he had been left with his own imagination and hand for too long.

Like a moth to a flame he found himself at your door, silently pushing it open and slipping inside.

His eyes nearly glowed in the dimly lit room as they landed on your curled up figure, laid peacefully on your futon, fast asleep.

Moonlight was the only thing to illuminate the room.

His cock throbbed, it was painfully hard as it had been for almost an hour now, precum smearing his boxers no doubt.

He palmed himself through his pants as he walked towards your peaceful form, pretty face becoming clearer the closer he got and the more his eyes adjusted to the lighting.

Unceremoniously, he collapsed to the floor, sitting down in front of you, no more than five inches from you. He watched your chest rise and fall with each of your breaths.

Carefully, he picked up a lock of hair and tugged.

You stirred but were far too drugged to wake up from the action.

He dropped the lock, fingertips now reaching for your face— your cheekbone, gently brushing them along your warm skin.

His breath hitched, little electrical shocks started in his fingers and danced up the length of his arm.

”Fuck, got my fucking cock throbbing, crybaby” he panted huskily, “Time to open those pretty eyes of yours now,” he said, giving your shoulder a shake.

“Hmm,” you whined.

”Wake up,” he said again, a harder shake this time.

You blinked your eyes open just slightly, before shutting them again.

You gave a confused hum, “Dabi?” You mumbled.

”That’s right crybaby.”

”What’re—why,” you slurred together.

He pushed your shoulder back— you were so pliant that he was able to effortlessly maneuver you onto your back.

You continued to mumble, trying to make sense in your drug addled mind as to why Dabi was in your room. All the while he was climbing onto the mattress and spreading your thighs as he settled between them. He tugged you down slightly, hooking your legs over his hips and pressing his clothed cock against you.

”Miss me crybaby? I’ve sure missed you,” he grinned, grabbing your gloved hand in his own and guiding it towards the tent in his pants, “See.” He exhaled breathily, using your hand to grasp his cock.

You tried opening your eyes again, waking up a bit more.

”Wha’s happenin’” you murmured, fingers wiggling in his hold as you tried shifting beneath him.

He only hummed, saying nothing as he lifted your hand up. He grasped the middle finger of your glove and pulled.

And just like every other time, your eyes shot open.

”No,” you whined.

”Yes,” he hissed back, pulling your glove completely off and discarding it to the side.

”Can’t touch,” you pulled your hand back and he let you cradle it to your chest. Instead shrugging his jacket off and pulling his shirt off before tossing them with your glove.

”Yes you can,” he grabbed your wrist, placing your hand on his abdomen.

Specifically on the deep purple scars.

Pain radiated from the surface of skin you touched, deep into the tissue. A shockwave of hurt burst from the center of his body, outwards.

His head fell back as a guttural groan clawed its way from his throat.

He ground his cock into you as wave after wave of pain wracked his body.

It was then that your sobs reached his ears.

He dropped your hand but the pain lingered blissfully, though it was dull.

“Fuck.”

The first touch was always the best. 

He grinned as he gazed at your tear stricken face.

”Let’s get you out of this,” he said, tugging your hoodie up.

You struggled but were too weak to stop him, every muscle in your body relaxed from the drugs.

You babbled nonsense, he didn’t even bother to try to make sense of what you were saying, just like every time before. Besides, the blood rushing in his ears was distracting anyway. 

You had no bra on, making his fingers move to the button of your jeans, fumbling with it as he eyed your tits heaving up and down with each of your breaths. He finally yanked them off your legs, along with your panties.

“Why are— does it hurt?” You continued to mumble, “How.”

“Hah—“ A laugh escaped Dabi. Tonight you seemed more concerned about hurting him rather than him stripping you down naked and getting ready to fuck you. “Wanna remember how good I can make you feel?” He asked, fingers now finding your wet cunt, stroking between your folds. That familiar, irresistible pain resumed in his hand as he pet you.

You gasped and wriggled, trying to move up the bed and get away, but the new grip on your hip prevented you from doing so.

Dabi’s head was reeling, pain and pleasure clouded his mind.

You were the only fucking girl that set his nerves ablaze in such a way. If it wasn’t for his vengeance set in a different, higher place he thinks he would never leave the bedroom with you.

Two fingers pressed into your cunt and slid in, making you squeal.

”Dabi no—“ you sobbed, continuing to wriggle in vain. “Why—“

“Shh,” he hushed, “Don’t think, just feel,” his thumb found your clit and rubbed tight little circles into it.

”Stop— I never— I’mma virgin.“

He barked out another laugh.

”You haven’t been a virgin for over a month now crybaby.”

You whimpered and cried, turning your head into your pillow as your voice became higher and higher pitched the longer this went on.

His free hand stroked your body, feeling the curve of your hips and the dip in your waist before gripping your breast. He then dived for the other, latching his lips around your nipple, pain sparking in his lips and tongue and the parts of his chest that brushed against you.

He continued to suck and tug on your nipples as his other hand continued to work you between your legs.

”Why, why, why—“ you cried, “Dabi why.”

”Because you’re mine you fucking idiot— now cum already.” He growled against your breast.

Your back arched as if his voice held any actual authority, and you came. Tears streaking your face with each spasm of your cunt.

When you came back down to earth you were a shivering, sniveling mess.

”See,” he sighed, “That wasn’t so bad now, was it?”

You sniffled, keeping your eyes squeezed shut.

”None of that,” he pulled the hand from between your legs and cupped your face, fingers digging into your cheeks as he smeared your fluids against your face. “No pretending you’re somewhere else. Open your eyes.” You blinked them open slowly, “Good.” He hummed, smacking your cheek lightly and sitting back up.

The pain you inflicted had finally turned into a duller thrum throughout his body. 

Meaning he had to fuck you now for his next fix.

He sucked your sticky wetness from his fingers before undoing his belt then his jeans.

He pulled his cock out, the feeling of it brushing against you making you inch away.

”See that baby?” He grunted, tilting his head back as he stroked his cock and cupped his balls, “You’ve got me so fucking pent up. Makin’ me wait almost an entire month.” He looked back down to you, eyeing you up like an animal. “Ready for my cock crybaby~” he taunted.

The words had fresh tears spilling down your cheeks.

”I’ll take that as a yes.”

He tugged you down by the hips, cock nestling between your folds. He gasped out and jolted at the sensation in his cock. 

There was no separation of the pain and pleasure you inflicted on him. It was one. Indivisible. 

And so much better than anyone else could ever offer.

He gripped his cock and lined it up at your entrance, heart beating rapidly against his ribcage.

His breathing came out hard and laborious, chest rising and falling dramatically as he psyched himself up to push into you.

That initial thrust would have him cumming. It did every time.

Fingers bit into your hips.

“1…” he growled, “2…” he shut his eyes.

”3.” Said the voice behind his ear.

Dabi’s eyes snapped open in time to see the bullet lodge itself between your eyes.

Your dead body turned to sludge, melting beneath him.

His ears rang as the unmistakable feel of a barrel of a gun pressed itself against the back of his head.

You held the gun, standing over Dabi’s kneeling figure.

As the ringing died in both yours and Dabi’s ears, the deafening silence became louder.

Bile crawled up the back of your throat as you looked over his shoulder.

His cock was still hard.

You cocked the gun, the little ‘click’ shattering the silence.

He sighed, shoulders slumping as he pushed his head back, leaning into the gun’s barrel.

”Maybe…” his raspy voice started, “I underestimated you.”

”I could kill you,” you replied coolly, “I should kill you.”

”But you won’t. I’m a pretty big player in all this League of Villains shit and you know that,” he started turning slowly, looking over his shoulder, bathing his profile in a bluish moonlight and illuminating the sick grin he wore, “So what exactly’s the plan then? Huh, crybaby?”

He was taunting you.

You set your jaw tightly and genuinely thought about pulling the trigger.

The nickname made you sick. You thought he was just being an asshole to you in the bar a few weeks ago when he called you that… you wouldn’t have thought it was a twisted little nickname he gave you after assaulting you.

”I want to talk.”

He scoffed, turning around, gazing up at you as he sat leisurely on your futon. He didn’t even bother to tuck his cock back into his pants. “I didn’t come in here to talk.”

”But that’s exactly what’s going to happen asshole or I’m going to tell Shigaraki—“

”He already knows crybaby. He watched.”

You faltered, face completely falling, “He- he what?”

Dabi grinned maliciously at you, “I let him watch last time, especially since you were such a good girl for me the first time I stopped by, taking my cock so well. I figured since he has such a hard time keeping his eyes off you then I’d really give him something to look at.”

“So,” you began shakily, “When he was interrogating me at the bar for missing that meeting—“

”Oh he knew why. He had been jerkin’ it to you the entire night.”

Fuck— tears were starting to collect in your tear ducts.

You blinked quickly in an attempt to hold them back.

You were just so fucking weak. How was it that you found yourself in progressively worse situations your entire life.

Joining these guys was supposed to mean something.

”Why,” you swallowed, gun shaking in your hand, “I thought we were supposed to be teammates.”

”I’d argue that we’re more than that now,” the words felt sinister, making you grow sicker by the second, “Do you want to know what the first thing I thought when the broker introduced you?”

You stayed silent, you didn’t want to play into this little game of his.

”I thought ‘now what cruel motherfucker would make someone that looked like you but wasn’t allowed to be touched’? But then,” he leaned back on his hands, nearly presenting his cock to you, “Once I was balls deep in that tight little virgin cunt, and you were shaking and crying in my arms I realized that you were made for me. I am the only man in this world that can fuck you. Your cunt belongs to me.”

Shit, shit, shit

”Don’t feel too bad though. This isn’t a one way street. I’ve never had pussy that’s made me fucking shake before, and that’s all you crybaby. You’re the only one that can offer me the kind of pain and pleasure that makes me forget about every crappy thing in my life.”

He was getting in your fucking head. 

“You’re insane.” You muttered hoarsely, throat suddenly dry, gun shaking even more in your hands.

”Well, what sane man would want you?”

You don’t know what possessed you, the weeks of anxiety? All the pent up anger he had caused?

Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. You threw the gun across your little room and lunged at Dabi.

He wanted to feel pain? Then you’d show him what actual pain feels like. 

Your inebriated body couldn’t access the full potential of your quirk.

And you hadn’t been quirk training for nothing.

You tackled him to the futon and landed in the muddy remnants of your clone, straddling his waist as you placed both your palms against his bare chest.

Dabi’s hand flew to your wrists as… as a groan left his throat. It wasn’t a scream or a wail, it wasn’t what you expected. And the pinch in his eyebrows was anything but anguish.

His palms were hot but he wasn’t using his quirk to push you away.

You had seen and heard looks of agony and suffering on people more than you’d care to admit, but this was not that.

You pushed against his chest harder, against the deep purple scars and seams of his body, digging your fingers into the stapled flesh and drawing blood.

”Fuck— that’s different,” he groaned out, “Why’s it different.”

”Why aren’t you in more pain,” you snapped, “I’ve made grown men kill themselves after only brushing against my arm just to end their suffering. What the fuck is wrong with you!” You screamed into his face.

He only moaned in response.

Which was when you had realized he had reached down when you weren’t paying attention. He reached between the gap where you had either leg on either side of his body and was fisting his cock. He was jerking himself off while you were hurting him.

A disillusioned laugh escaped your throat, broken and choppy.

This was absurd.

This went against everything you believed about your quirk while growing up.

That your entire identity surrounded the fact that you inflicted pain and everyone and anything would always see you as the villain because of that. You were meant to be avoided and feared, never wanted or desired.

You were losing your goddamned mind.

”You’re a fucking freak,” you suddenly laughed louder at the realization, watching him drag his fist over his cock, the metal barbells of his Jacob’s ladder glinting in the moonlight. “You walk around here all tough and moody, acting like you’re better than everyone else but you’re just as fucking crazy as the rest of them.”

“You’re just as sick,” he choked out with a laugh of his own, “Watching me playing with your clone. You listened to her cry and beg me to stop and you just watched.”

”Shut up,” you hissed. You knew it was wrong, you had promised her you’d stop him before he touched her inappropriately, but when he started you couldn’t bring yourself to end things. 

A twisted part of you wanted to watch and it made you fucking sick.

Just as what you did next made you sick.

You reached down between your legs and grabbed his cock yourself, pushing his own hand away.

He threw his head back, letting out an even louder groan. You could tell this one hurt more than the hand on his chest and it made you smile knowing he was in pain no matter how much pleasure he got from it.

You started jerking him off yourself, listening to his heaving grunts and groans with every stroke of your hand. You paid no mind to the piercings in his cock, if he liked the pain then he could deal with any snagging.

He started tugging on your shirt, pushing it up higher. His hands pawing at your body until one reached your bra, pushing it up to grab your tits.

Your mind felt like it was splitting. You didn’t want him to touch you but you didn’t want to stop him.

But the nail in the coffin was when he tangled a hand in the back of your hair and tugged you down.

He was kissing you.

He tasted like burnt flesh and cigarettes.

His tongue forced itself past your lips and brushed against your own in broad strokes.

You didn’t pull away, you only kissed him back with equal fervor, biting his lips and letting him stick his tongue as far back into your mouth as he wanted to.

You moaned into the kiss, a moan that had been swallowed by his mouth, sending a flutter of excitement in the pit of your stomach.

He broke the kiss. Glowing cyan eyes boring into yours, “Ride me crybaby.”

You sat up, pulling your hoodie over your head and quickly undoing your bra, throwing them to the side as Dabi pulled at your pants.

You smacked his hands away, standing up to work them down your legs yourself before landing on top of him again.

He hissed at the pain as you touched him with a newly exposed body.

You ignored him, grabbing his cock and lining it up at your entrance. You sunk down slowly, adjusting to the size and the feeling of the piercings entering you.

But it wasn’t fast enough for Dabi because he was grabbing at your hips and pulling you down forcefully onto his cock.

You shook and cried out from the pain, collapsing against his chest as you sucked in breath after breath.

But Dabi shook harder from underneath you, pained moans of your name leaving his lips. You watched in curiosity, ignoring your own throbbing pain from between your legs as he started panting, body going slack.

You started laughing, you were pretty sure the fucking freak just came, ”Did you just—?” 

”It’ll get hard again, just start fucking moving,” he grunted, grabbing at your hips.

So you did.

You had no idea what your were doing so you just did whatever felt good, and grinding your clit against his pubic hair felt really good.

The feeling of his cock getting hard inside you again made you dig your fingers into his stapled flesh once more, drawing more blood.

”Shit— ride me better,” he hissed.

”I don’t know how—“

“Shut up,” he spat, holding your hips in a bruising grip as he bent his knees to get some leverage and began to thrust into you from underneath.

“Oh fuck,” you gasped. You had never felt anything like this before.

The next second he was slipping his arms around your back and switching your positions, slipping out of you but you had barely any time to process it as he slammed back into you as he was now hunched over your body.

You yelped at the brutal pace he set, hips pounding against yours. You could feel his balls slapping against your ass and every piercing dragging in and out of you.

Your high pitched, breathy moans mixed with his own deeply pained and pleasured grunts. The sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and all the lewd wet noises that came with every thrust made you blush deeply.

Next he was yanking your leg up, hooking it over his elbow, allowing him to reach deeper inside you.

You threw your head back, “There,” you breathed out.

You were getting close and Dabi could tell by the clenching and unclenching of your cunt. He snaked a hand down and found your clit, rubbing tight circles into it.

“Cum crybaby, show me this cunt belongs to me.”

You fucking hated that nickname. And you hated his entitlement.

You wrapped your hands around his throat, listening to those pained noises that were starting to make your head spin.

He fucked into you even harder.

Everything went white. 

You were cumming and then he was cumming, the two of you shaking in each others arms.

He had slid out with a hiss, collapsing beside you, careful not to touch you.

You stared up at your ceiling, listening to his pants. You turned to look at him.

He really was shaking. 

You reached over and touched his chest, grinning at the now truly pained reaction you got.

He activated his quirk making you hiss and pull away, cradling your now burned hand to your chest.

It was quiet for a few beats.

”Why are you able to touch me?” You finally asked.

”The doctor that put me back together said my pain receptors are fucked.”

”Oh,” that actually… made a lot of sense.

You looked back to him again. Eyeing his profile, following the slope of his nose and the subtle pout of his mouth. You looked at his scars, how the deep purple skin was being held together to his healthy skin by staples. You stared at the swollen seams where the skin was connected.

You were beginning to think he had it wrong.

He was actually made for you.

-

Tear You Apart Prequel (Dabi x Reader x Shigaraki)

Deleted Scene

[love-me-satoru]

Not the thought of yandere!Boyfriend that would tie up some random guy that was flirting with you and then fuck you in front of them.Them squirming against the ropes watching your tear filled eyes. Loud moans and your boyfriends fat fucking cock pushing into you at a brutal pace. Their cock straining against their jeans. “Look baby he’s hard.” You couldn’t process your boyfriends words until his hand wrapped around your throat Pulling you flushed against his front. “I said look slut.” your eyes glancing back at the man tied to the chair. “Good girl.. Now cum for me baby. Show him what he’ll never get.”

[eskumii]

yandere!incel!tomura shigaraki + foreigner!darling who can't speak japanese

TITLE: " RENT-A-GF " — navi.

NOTES: nsfw (18+ only) below the cut (non-con!! somnophilia!!) reminder: this is merely fantasy, i don't condone. will prob proofread someday lol. enjoy!

PAIRING: yandere!incel!shigaraki tomura x foreinger!reader

GENRE/AU: shigaraki is rlly misogynistic and delusional, age gap (you're older), reader is a substitute english teacher who got kidnapped by bwad gwuys and is now... yeah

CHARACTERS: shigaraki tomura (21), reader (24)

let's be for real: shigaraki was born to be an incel.

and incel!shigaraki is shamelessly self-aware of this, indeed. when he's not out terrorizing innocent citizens with his villainous coups, he takes to the internet to fulfill his insatiable need for an adrenaline rush. gorey video games and brutal death metal makes him light up in glee, but sometimes it's just not enough.

so, instead, he's a frequent on the dark web, diligently scouring sites that specialize in obscure female porn collectives that cater to his twisted kinks. incel!shigaraki glowers at the pictures of stupid, slutty women who prance around in sexy lingerie, but still gets a hard-on because he wishes he had a woman who would do that for him and him only.

and what shigaraki wants, he gets. on another sweaty night in his dark bedroom, he's boredly clicking through the hundreds of entries of women who are being sold for, what he thinks, too high of a price. not that money would ever be a problem for him; if he felt compelled to, he could just kidnap the girl he wanted all over again. so, no, it's not the price—it's what he thinks they're worth based on his attraction to them.

and, so far, all of them are worthless.

you see, the conundrum is that incel!shigaraki has a thing for foreign girls. don't ask why, he doesn't know. maybe he finds it cute that they're so clueless about his culture and language, and he's the one who'll control the narrative that rules their ignorance. maybe it's so cute how they wear their perpetual confusion on their face at all times, like a bratty kid who can't navigate the world without mommy or daddy by their side.

of course, though, women could hardly do anything on their own anyway. every time he came across one they'd wail and cry as he grabbed them by the hair and threatened to kill them if they didn't shut the hell up. they'd beg for their lives or scream for someone to save them, but it would only piss him off more at how useless and brainless they tended to be. he just couldn't help but decay them—they were so noisy and whiny, it wasn't his fault.

obviously, shigaraki has neither patience nor experience with women. in fact, he can probably count with two fingers how many times he's had a non-violent interaction with a woman in his entire lifetime. the mere thought of this drives his insecurities to the brink of rage, but it's not his fault women are so unbelievably tasteless in their choice of men. it's their fault he has to go to such lengths to find a decent woman worthy of his presence.

but imagine his delight when he happens upon a listing of you, an immediately attractive foreign woman who used to be an english substitute teacher of all things. he clicks through your pictures with a renewed vigor, his interest piqued as he studies your unique features. eagerly, he scours through your posted information and it turns out that you happen to be exactly the kind of woman he's looking for.

it's a done deal. the transaction takes less than a few minutes and incel!shigaraki couldn't be more pleased with how smoothly it went. he'll have to leave a good review later on, when and if the woman he's just bought has satisfied him.

it takes just one night before shigaraki finds you literally dropped off at his doorstep like an amazon prime package. you’ve clearly been pampered with the way you’re clad in a skimpy maid outfit; your nails, hair, and makeup are all dolled to perfection. you look exactly like you did in the pictures.

and clearly you're wise beyond your years. you don't speak much because of the obvious language barrier, but you do seem to understand a bit of elementary japanese. shigaraki is delighted by your small mutterings of broken japanese—it’s unbelievably cute. sometimes he'll force you to speak in japanese just because he loves watching you struggle with your limited vocabulary.

incel!shigaraki gets attached to you. you're very attractive in his eyes, and he's completely ecstatic that you're all his. a woman he can do whatever he wants with, and no one would dare question him. the immense power trip sends him over the edge.

that being said, the first couple of weeks are still rather... awkward. you're not happy about being in the situation you're in, but you're smart enough to keep that to yourself. you don't fuss when shigaraki orders you to fetch him liquor or tidy up his filthy room, nor do you complain when he commands you to cuddle with him or keep him company while he plays video games.

"[name], c'mere," he'd bark at you, eyes still glued to the tv screen.

"be a good girl and keep my lap warm, hm?"

he'll force you to wear cute lingerie sets like he's seen the women on porn sites do. somehow you look so much better though, and it feels as though you're teasing him with the way you bend over so much while cleaning. the outline of your pussy through the small fabric that stretches over it has him horny in a matter of seconds. you're such a tease, aren't you ashamed? you just can't seem to stay in line.

however, despite all your obvious sexual innuendos towards him, shigaraki gets no relief. he's resorted to jacking off whenever you go to sleep but no matter how hard or how much he cums, there's an itch that can't be scratched with masturbation alone. and the way you're so shy around him is adorable, sure, but your little playing-hard-to-get act wasn't cutting it anymore.

the remedy? incel!shigaraki starts slipping sleeping pills into your food and drinks.

and it doesn't take long for shigaraki to develop a routine of visiting you while you're sleeping. partly to check up on you and assure himself of your presence, but mostly to creep around the edges of the bed and feel you up. you sleep so soundly that you don't even twitch when he fondles your soft breasts or runs his spindly fingers over your curves.

he almost doesn't want to disturb you; you look so peaceful, totally different than the frightened little faces you muster when you're awake. but the bothersome tightness stretching his boxers taut against its stitches makes it hard to resist his urges. anyway, you're simply doing the only thing a woman is good for: using your body to please him.

his breath is hot and heavy, laced with lust and selfish perversion as he defiles you to get himself off. some nights he just sits and admires your beauty, caressing your face with clumsy, inexperienced fingertips. some nights your shirt is pulled up so he can marvel at how nicely your breasts sit in whatever color bra he forced you to wear.

other nights his cock is nestled between them, thrusting like his life depends on it, chasing that euphoric high he gets when he finally spills his seed across your hardening nipples. and other nights shigaraki is even more daring—cute pajama pants and panties below your knees, face buried between your thighs as he explores every inch of your sweet cunt. he knows it's wrong, but so what? he's a villian, that's what makes it feel so right.

when you make faces in your sleep, he's filled with so much genuine affection—it's almost as if you're telling him he's doing a good job. you love it, don't you? he so desperately wants to hear you cry his name in that precious accent of yours and run your hands through his hair as you lavish your praise upon him for making you cream so many times.

he can't keep his eyes off you. so soft and compliant. you're so pretty while he's stuffing his cock into you and relentlessly flicking your little clit, not stopping even when he feels you clench around him like a vice as you orgasm over and over. not stopping even though you're drooling all over the linen sheets and he's came twice already.

"that's right... y-you gonna cum again? you gonna—ngh—cum all over my cock, you dumb whore?"

shigaraki watches with glassy, intrigued eyes as you squirm ever so slightly, face warped into one of undeniable pleasure as he ravages your gushing pussy. you're such a good girl for him, letting him use you as he wishes.

you're the woman he's chosen to give his virginity to. he's so happy and content that when he cums inside of you for the third time, he doesn't pull out. instead, shigaraki gently maneuvers your body so he can spoon you from behind, whispering tender "i love you's" as if he knows what that means. absently grinding his hips because your warmth is so comforting around his sticky, softening dick.

as much as shigaraki wants to stay and pound you into the mattress all night, the sleeping medication doesn't last forever. not to mention the mess you've made; the sheets are completely ruined and your clothes are strewn about on the floor, long forgotten. it's hot in your room and it stinks of his cum and sweat, but it doesn't really matter. the only thing on his mind is you and how he'll ruin you again tomorrow night.

for now, though, he rewards you for being so good by cleaning you up, smirking whenever you unconsciously nuzzle up to his touch. when your clothes are back on, he plants a tender kiss on your forehead and admires your flushed face from the shadows of your bedside. when the sun begins to rise and you stir in your ignorance, he'll sneak out and act as if nothing ever happened.

incel!shigaraki who doesn't deny that you're just another stupid slutty woman, but you're the only woman he'll ever want to cum inside of. when he returns to his room, he remembers to pull up your archived listing on his computer and dazedly taps away at his keyboard.

"10/10 recommend"

[lesinquietes]

Imagining Shigaraki scoping out a temporary hideout for the League and coming across a group of assassins. They’re hiding out in a forest, occupying a mansion large enough to comfortably house a dozen people. He thinks it’s ideal for his crew. So, he winds up infiltrating the place and dusting each and every one of the members — except you.

He gets to the top floor, having already turned three of your friends to dirt. Your comrade leaps towards him, failing when he‘s transformed into the tiniest of particles. At a loss, you back up against the furthest wall. You’re the last one alive. You realize this opponent is light years out of your skill level. You screw your eyes shut and try to calm yourself before the end.

Shigaraki goes for your neck. But he stops short of touching you with all five fingers the second he catches a glimpse of your pretty face. You remind him of a model he likes — his favourite one, in all honesty. The number of times he’s fantasized about having her by his side, merely so he can spoil himself with her beauty… and now he has you. His master was right; even when things seem to be going downhill, there are glimmers of hope to be found.

“Oh.” He hums, voice flittering with amusement. “Not you.”

He slides his palm up to grasp your chin between him thumb and index finger. He shifts your visage left and right, drinking in how perfect you are. He isn’t the type to be vain, but there’s something about you that’s calling him. The universe doesn’t lie. You’re meant to be his.

He leans close to your neck and plants a soft kiss on your collarbone. You shiver, pupils dilated in sheer terror. He snickers tauntingly in your ear, warm breath tickling your damp skin.

“I think I’m gonna keep you.”

[rotten-pomegranate]

Really dark yandere shigaraki headcannons

Warnings: Noncon, kinda pet play, leash and collar, dog cage, abuse

Yandere shigaraki who makes you wear a chain leash and drags who towards him with it when he wants sex

Yandere shigaraki who has you sit on his lap or between his legs sucking him off while he plays games

Yandere shigaraki who puts you in a dog cage whenever he’s not home

Yandere shigaraki who has you bounce on his cock with his pinky just nearly hovering over your skin

Yandere shigaraki who loves watching you tremble when he comes up behind you and bites all around your neck

Yandere shigaraki who freaks out and beats you up when you don’t do what he wants

Yandere shigaraki who has you dress like a bunny girl and serve him when he’s in a fun mood

Yandere shigaraki who rests his feet on your head while leading a Lov meeting

Yandere shigaraki who has you on edge every night thinking he could turn over in his sleep and turn you to dust

[ataraxiaspainting]

The Tragedy of Rage.

Yan Shigaraki x F Reader.

Synopsis: Losing people is hard for most – but not for Tomura because he hasn’t lost you yet in his mind.

Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, Tomura the incel creep, slight descriptions of self-inflicted wounds, brief mentions of not SFW, and thoughts of future acts of violence/mutilation.

Word Count: 400.

*~*~*~*

If Tomura was going to be betrayed anyway, he would have preferred to be torn apart limb by limb.

Trusting someone hurts – but society has told everyone since they were little that trust was necessary. Trusting someone hurts – but you said you would be different this time. Trusting someone hurts – Tomura had unlocked that shackle because you said it tugged on your leg to the point of it bleeding.

Just when did you become such an actor, creating props out of your own living flesh and peeled skin? Just when did you become such a little director, creating a script out of soothing touches and Tomura’s clothing and a clip from the back of your dress? If Tomura wasn’t so mad, he’d tell you to give the same kind of enthusiasm to those cosplays he makes you wear. Whether they were jokes or not was up to you. Just like your skirt length is up to him; or if you’ll be allowed to wear anything aside from lingerie for the next few months after this little escape attempt.

His stepping stops as he looks at the lower levels of the fire escape.

Using the front door would’ve been a stupid move. Tomura’s a bit happy you’re not that dumb. Cameras exist for a reason. People who would do anything for just a bit of money exist for a reason. Your mind hasn’t fractured yet – but the answer as to whether or not for the same reason as Tomura’s mind is left up in the air for a discussion never to come. 

Only fists, only yelling, only screaming. Only crying.

He won’t permit you to even do that. If you do, he’ll make sure that voice box is ripped out. Then the only crying he will hear are those that belong to the cicadas.

Tomura won’t cry for you. You were the one who proved trusting someone hurts more than anything else in the world, and you will pay the price.

[reanniee]

yandere shigaraki drabble

notes: yandere, more shigaraki angst, mention of kidnapping word count: 400

coming up with an idea of yandere shigi is really challenging. i'm unsure which part of him i want to showcase in the 2nd part of the moon fic. because i can really see it going two ways.

do i want the beginning shigaraki? the man-child who refuses to take no for an answer. the egotistical type. obsessive type. the punishing type. the cruel type.

he holds himself to a high standard, viewing himself as such. and he holds you to an even higher standard. to shigaraki, he owns you. the teachings of his master continue to chain his true feelings. he views you as more a toy, a plaything. something he owns. something he won.

he refuses his love for you. he does not love you. he does not care for you. he does not need you.

how long can he keep this façade up before completely breaking down before you? he is scared. scared to show you his true feelings, out of fear of rejection. so, instead, he takes you. forces you to be his as he acts as though he does not want to be yours.

in reality, he does not harm you. his actions more bark than bite. the lies he tells you are for himself, not for you.

he refuses his love for you. he does not want to love you. he does not want to care for you. he does not want to need you.

but he does.

or do i want the desperate shigaraki?

the former temper-tantrum throwing child is no more. hes faced too many losses for him to be as egotistical as he was prior. the loss of his nomus. the loss to allmight. the loss of a precious lov member, magne. the loss of his dear master, all for one.

to him, you cannot be another one of his losses. he refuses for it to be so. the type to worship and be completely enamored by his darling. after all, he just got her back, and now he will never let her go.

the desperate, pathetic shigaraki.

he holds you dearly, as if you would run from him immediately when given the chance. he is weak around you. you are the only one who truly understands him.

the desperate, pathetic shigaraki who confesses his love to you constantly like a mantra.

he does not listen to your response, fearful of it. for now, let him enjoy your embrace. let him enjoy your love. let him enjoy you.

for after tonight. after the moon sets. after a new cycle repeats. your relationship will never be the same again.

[mango-bango-bby]

Dont know if you wanna do this but this has been on my mind for a while now lmao.

Shigaraki is playing a video game with you in his lap, the controller almost between your thighs.

When the game gets to difficult the controller buzzes and you jump against him, he smiles. Now he has completely forgotten about the game, purposely taking damage to see your sweet reactions

(Dont know if you've done this before, would be nice if you make a little one shot of this. Love your stuff bye bye!!!)

♡ Video Games ♡

(A/N: Ughhhh I’ve been so busy lately with work and classes, I’ve barely had anytime to write ☹️☹️ I hope that you all understand 💞 Anyways I hope you like this!! This idea is so creative and I loved writing it 💕💕)

Content Warning ⚠️: Yandere, NSFW, vibrators, smut, fem!reader, slight DUB-CON

Summary: Tomura uses his game controller as a vibrator on you (Yan!Shigaraki x Fem!reader)

Masterlist ➸ ♡

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Tomura loved you a lot, like a lot. He loved you in a lot of innocent ways, liking when you did smiled at him or hugged him in your sleep. However he loved you in a lot of other ways, having trouble sometimes keeping his mind out of the gutter. The way you wiggled in his lap while trying to get comfortable or the way your chest bounced when you walked with a bit to much energy, he just couldn’t help it.

You lean back a bit onto Tomura’s chest. You two sit on the floor of his room in the League’s base, you siting in between his legs with your eyes focused on the screen and the game he was playing. The controller and his hands resting just above your bare thighs, as all you were wearing was a pair of pajamas shorts,

You watch him play the game, although he wasn’t really doing to well because he was fighting a particularly hard boss. Luckily, the health in the game took a long time to decrease, so he still had a lot of time to beat the boss. Tomura sets his hands that hold the controller onto your thighs, which you didn’t think much of.

Until he took damage again. You jumped, letting out a small gasp at the sudden vibration from the controller that was so close to your cunt. Tomura stopped for a moment before setting his head down on your shoulder. You whimper a bit, knowing that he’s going to keep teasing you from how you can feel him smirk against your skin.

He deliberately presses the control against your clit through your shorts, putting a lot of pressure on it. The controller vibrates again as his character takes damage, which has you reaching behind you to hold onto him. As much as he’d love to beat this boss right now, he always took an opportunity to tease you.

“Tomura.. right now?” You whimper, asking if he has to tease you right now. Tomura lets out a raspy hum at your words, wrapping his arms around you so you can’t escape.

The boss in the game lands nonstop hits, the controller doesn’t stop buzzing, sending shock waves through your body and causing you stomach to drop at the incredible feeling.

“Tomura” you whisper, being caged in his arms as he leans over you. You try to wiggle out of his hard grip but he only holds you tighter and presses the end of the controller harder onto your clit. You wiggle, acting as if you’re trying to escape his arms, but he sees how you press your hips against the control and buck your hips.

“Are you going to cum already?” Tomura rasps quietly, being close enough to your ear for you to hear it. It’s been such a short amount of time and yet you’ve already come undone. You nod your head shakily. “Can I cum?” You ask, always asking before cumming. He only nods his head against your shoulder.

He’ll let you cum. Although there’s still a lot of his health bar left, and he’s determined to keep you here until he gets the ‘game over’ screen.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Thank you for reading, darling!!

[yanderenightmare]

thinking about Touya and Tomura fucking a pretty little virgin and keeping her collared in their bed as their shy, slutty cumdump

Shigaraki Tomura x darling x Dabi

TW: NSFW, dubcon/noncon, power dynamic, captive darling

fem reader

They don’t seem to enjoy each other’s company that much...

Patchface and Fugly aren’t exactly names of endearment...

Tomura seems to think he’s in charge, but Dabi’s never shown any sign of respect for that – they both just do what they want. Fighting each other with childish insults – sometimes the odd shirt grab or childish push – but never actually throwing down.

You don’t understand the nature of their relationship. They behave more like brothers than anything – forced to share the same toy – you.

Tomura is the more clingy of the two. Cuddly with you – always lazing on you like you’re his personal plush. He sleeps a lot – lies with his arms around your waist and his head in your tits – drool dribbling down his chin, getting sticky on your skin. And when he doesn’t sleep, he’s sitting in his chair – three screens making his eyes beady and baggy. He’ll often keep you on his lap ��� his massive girth wearing you like a fleshlight as he clicks away on his controller.

Dabi is cuddly, too, but you wouldn’t call him clingy. He prefers it when you lie against his chest. He likes to stroke his fingers up and down your skin – play a little – lick you with blue flames, just enough for it to sting just a bit. He’s somehow lazier than Tomura – always in the bed with a blunt between his lips – rolling more – sucking the slim roll while you suck him. The air in the room is always thick with it.

They’re both trigger-happy – horny at the drop of a hat. Utterly shameless with it, too – stroking their hard lengths against your warm flesh even while you sleep. Sometimes you wake up with their cum smeared on your skin – other times you wake up with one of them inside you.

Dabi reeks of cigarettes and catpiss, and Tomura isn’t much different – dry sweat and boozy breaths.

You don’t think either of them has been with too many girls. Nor does it seem that either of them has had any proper education. Schooled by the internet – incel chatrooms and porn. You often have to raise your brow at their misogyny.

You find Tomura harbors more pure resentment towards you in that aspect – sometimes so cruel, forcing you to beg him for his mercy – when he’ll keep your throat in a four-fingered lock – the fifth ghosting the skin until he’s properly satisfied with the number of tears running down your cheeks. He calls you a pretty girl, but more so as an insult – a pretty bitch only worth taking his cum.

Dabi seems to have his rage focused elsewhere – on some distant goal. He’ll brood over it in silence – often long into the night. You’ll wake up only to see he has yet to fall asleep – but you don’t dare ask him about it. He can be just as ill-tempered as Tomura if you don’t watch yourself.

They both bite harder than they bark.

[disaster-writer]

Tear You Apart (Prequel)

Pairing: Dabi x Reader x Shigaraki

Summary: Before you had found out who had been drugging you, Dabi had invited Shigaraki to come and watch one of these occasions

Word Count: 3.6k

Rating: X 18+

Warnings: Dark fic, smut, noncon, drugging, voyeurism, exhibitionism, masochism… dead dove: do not eat

A/N: This is a prequel, read the first part here —>

Tear You Apart (Part 1)

Dabi took a long drag on the cigarette that hung loosely from his fingers before blowing out, the smoke billowing in front of him.

He looked over lazily at the male companion he sat with at the bar.

”You like her~” he lilted, mocked even, watching Shigaraki stare over his shoulder at the pretty woman that sat in the booth in the back all by herself.

”Like who?” He asked, not bothering to look away.

It made Dabi scoff, “Don’t play dumb, makes you look like a fuckin’ idiot.” He muttered, taking another drag.

It was odd being trapped in this limbo, not knowing what the fuck to do as the days passed, waiting for Shigaraki’s master to tell them what to do next.

But at least some of the fuckers in the league were out searching for recruits for once and the ones that weren’t were already asleep.

It was just Dabi and Shigaraki.

And you all alone in the back.

”She’s falling asleep,” Shigaraki idly commented, watching your eyes fluttering shut and then open every few seconds.

Dabi looked over his own shoulder. 

You were falling asleep.

He then looked at your drink that you completely drained.

”She had two drinks tonight,” Dabi offered as an explanation.

”She doesn’t drink alcohol. They’re mocktails.”

Dabi sucked on his teeth, “Someone pays attention, huh?” he taunted.

It pissed him off how much Shigaraki paid attention to you. Dabi was never fond of sharing.

”She said she used to be an alcoholic,” he added.

He may as well have been removing the staples from his seams and peeling the flesh back himself with how deeply he was getting under his skin.

”Or it’s just fuckin’ late, speaking of which, maybe you should go to sleep too. Huh Shiggy? Heard we had another long day of doing fuck all.”

Dabi needed him gone, he was already cutting into his schedule for the night by hanging around, staring at you.

”We have a meeting in the morning,” he muttered into his shoulder. His unwavering eyes never leaving your huddled form, curled up in the booth. “Someone should take her to her room.”

”And by someone I’m sure you’re talking about yourself, huh?” He muttered, stubbing out his cigarette in the ash tray, “Wanna try touching little miss ‘can’t touch me’ don’t’cha.”

”She has clothes on. It wouldn’t hurt.”

”Just trying to cop a feel then?”

Shigaraki didn’t respond.

Dabi tapped the bar impatiently, he was really starting to get on his nerves. 

Fuck— why didn’t you just go to your fucking room before falling asleep like last time. 

He guessed he was lucky that more people weren’t around, at least he knew Shigaraki’s thoughts were just as depraved as his… actually he wouldn’t put it past the fucking creep to think up even more disgusting shit than he does.

Dabi looked back over his shoulder.

You were asleep.

Shit.

You drank a lot of that shit tonight, the pineapple juice he spiked being the base of both drinks. He’d be lucky if he was able to get you coherent at all.

He looked at Shigaraki and he was still just fucking staring.

Dabi needed a plan to get you into your room.

Ah, fuck it.

Dabi turned back towards the bar, fingering the rim of his own empty glass.

”I slipped her something.”

At that Shigaraki was looking at him for the first time the entire night.

”Why?” 

He didn’t seem put off, just curious.

Fuckin’ perv.

“I conducted a little experiment of mine the other night and I wanted to do it again.”

”What was it?”

”I wanted to see what would happen if I touched her.”

Shigaraki eyed him. Dabi looked fine and he had listened in on some of your own depressing stories growing up, like how your mother stabbed herself to death in front of you after you touched her or how you watched a dog ram it’s head against the side of a building until it died, after you tried petting it as a child.

He didn’t remember Dabi going through any bizarre episodes like that.

“What happened after you touched her?” 

Dabi looked up from his glass, looking right into those little beady red eyes of his, “I fucked her.”

“How?” He breathed out, curiosity bleeding from the single word.

He started scratching his neck.

“Come with me and I’ll show you.”

”Okay.”

Dabi stood up, hands shoved in his pockets as he made his way over to your curled up body, sleeping with your head against the wall.

He slid in beside you as Shigaraki stood off to the side awkwardly.

”Hey, crybaby,” Dabi hummed. He grasped your shoulder, pulling you to lean on him instead.

You didn’t even hum, still fast asleep.

Fuck, you were really out of it tonight. But you were so pliable right now he couldn’t be too stressed.

”Crybaby?” Shigaraki asked.

A knowing smirk painted Dabi’s lips, “You’ll find out.” 

There was no point spending time right now trying to wake you, so instead he slipped back out of the booth, managed to pull you towards the end before hooking an arm under your knees and around your back, lifting you out of the booth.

”Let’s go,” Dabi muttered to Shigaraki as he began walking towards your room.

Shigaraki followed after, staring at your face as your head hung back with no strength to hold it up.

His cock stirred.

Reaching your room, Dabi shouldered the door open and Shigaraki shut it behind him.

Only a dim lamp was on, lighting up the room.

Shigaraki didn’t look around, he didn’t need to. There had been more than one occasion he had slipped inside while you were out quirk training, to lay in your bed… to touch himself while surrounded by your scent and the things you’ve touched with those wonderfully destructive hands of yours.

Dabi walked over to your bed, laying you down flat on your back, seating himself between your legs, dragging his hands over your clothed hips and thighs.

“Sit down or something,” Dabi snapped at Shigaraki, “I don’t need you looming over my shoulder like a fuckin’ creep.”

”I want to see you touch her.”

”You can do that from the floor you freak.”

He sat down, a bit too close for his liking but Dabi let it be. 

Dabi leaned over you, raising his hand and smacking your cheek a couple times. “Time to wake up crybaby.”

Shigaraki watched in curiosity, Dabi didn’t seem to be in any pain from touching your cheek. “Did that hurt?”

”Yeah,” Dabi grinned, watching your heavy eyelids trying to peel back, “It fuckin’ hurts all right.”

You groaned, deep in your throat as your head lolled to your shoulder. “Da… Dabi…” you murmured, trying to focus your tired eyes on him.

“That’s right baby, enjoy your nap?— hey, no“ he smacked your cheek again, harder this time as your eyes started drooping. “Look who’s joining us tonight,” he pushed your head to the side, making you look at Shigaraki.

Your face screwed up cutely, you were just so confused, “Sh.. Shh,” was all you managed to get out.

”I know,” he said condescendingly, “It’s a hard name to say. But that’s okay, you only need to know mine tonight.” He dragged his hand down, squeezing your tit and pulling out a surprised grunt from you. “Let’s get you out of these ridiculous clothes, always wearing this baggy shit.”

He pulled you up, holding up your dead weight as he started yanking your hoodie up, pulling it up and over your head, body slumping back down against the futon as it came off.

You had no bra on, leaving you in your gloves that you always wore and your sweatpants.

Shigaraki’s hand twitched as he eyed your tits.

”Ah, ah, ah,” Dabi tsked, noticing the movement from the corner of his eye, “Can’t touch remember.”

Shigaraki was getting annoyed, “Why can you?”

He ignored him, hooking his fingers into your sweats and panties, pulling them down your hips and legs until they flopped back down around him.

You groaned again.

Then came your gloves. 

And that woke you up— or at least as close you could come to waking up in this state.

”No, can’t,” you grunted, trying to pull your hands from Dabi’s grasp, “Can’t,” you whined louder.

“There you go,” Dabi sighed, pulling the second glove off, “Feel better without all those clothes?”

You were completely naked but Dabi had barely touched you, and it was pissing Shigaraki off, but he’d admit the sight of your perky nipples in the cool air did something to cool off the annoyance simmering deep within.

“Touch her,” he ordered.

Dabi raised a brow, looking at him for the first time since coming here, “You saying that as my boss?”

”Yes,” he hissed, starting to scratch his neck again.

”Fine. You got it boss.”

Dabi sighed, rolling his shoulders back. He pulled his jacket off, tossing it behind him before pulling his shirt off, tossing it at Shigaraki with a laugh who only decayed it without a word as it landed in his hand.

”Funny ain’t it?” Dabi asked, hovering above your sleepy face. He looked over to Shigaraki, “You can’t touch her because you’re both the same side of the same coin, but us,” he looked back down to you, nose almost brushing against your own, “We’re two sides of the same.” He dipped down, locking his lips with your own.

He groaned loudly against your mouth, a sharp, piercing pain erupting throughout his mouth, radiating outwards, needles being threaded in and out of his skin. They stabbed his eyes and eardrums.

It made his fucking cock throb and he needed more.

He licked into your mouth, swallowing all the little whimpers you emitted, panting into yours as he breathed through the pain.

His hands ached as they dragged along your sides feeling a sharp, stabbing pain as if two knives had been stabbed straight through his palms and he dragged them down, down, down.

You whimpered, body jolting in shock at the feel of him cupping your cunt.

You shook your head, pulling away from the kiss and looking to the side as your breathing began picking up.

Dabi started kissing down your neck instead.

Your eyes opened, looking all over the room before landing on Shigaraki.

His breath hitched as he watched you, hand slowly moving towards his crotch.

”What… What’s happenin’” you asked, staring at him with such large, watery puppy eyes.

Shigaraki stared at you, he had never seen an expression like this on you. Lost, vulnerable, seeking comfort, assurance. He started scratching harder. “Dabi’s going to show me how he fucks you, crybaby—“

Dabi tsked, “Come up with your own fuckin’ pet name.”

Your eyes lolled in your head, landing on the fluffy mane on Dabi’s head.

”How—“ you cut yourself off with a gasp, hips jerking.

Shigaraki’s eyes snapped down to where his hand disappeared between your legs. “What are you doing?” He asked impatiently, trying to inch forward and see what was going on, now grasping his cock through his pants.

Dabi dragged his lips up to your ear, “Shiggy wants to see how I make you feel good. You wanna show him your cute little pussy, show him how you cream around my fingers crybaby.”

Tears started falling, too overwhelmed by what was going on and not being able to grasp any of it.

He sat back up, leaning away from you but keeping his fingers inside. 

Shigaraki’s eyes widened, taking in every last inch of your perfect pussy, “Fuck,” he hissed through his teeth, shoving his hand into his pants watching as Dabi played with you. “Does it hurt inside?” He asked, not being able to keep the curiosity at bay. He often wondered, when he lay in your bed and stroked his cock, if the inside of your cunt would hurt as much as the outside must’ve.

”Fuck, yeah it does,” Dabi breathed, placing his thumb on your clit. “It’s like her pussy’s full of fuckin’ razor blades.”

Your hips jerked again at the sensitive little button being played with.

They both watched every little reaction you made with rapt attention. You wriggled weakly, attempting to get away as each whimper and sweet little moan climbed higher in pitch. Your fingers curled weakly against the bed sheets, head tilting back.

Shigaraki sucked in a breath. “I think she’s gonna—“

You were cumming, hips weakly humping the air, grinding against Dabi’s hand with every stutter.

”That’s it baby,” Dabi encouraged— patronized. His free hand stroking your hip. Shigaraki didn’t miss the way his hand twitched as he touched your skin. “Feels good don’t it?”

Your breathing was labored as you fell steadily from your orgasm.

Shigaraki stared intensely at the way your pussy clenched as Dabi dragged his fingers from you, covered in a shiny wet gloss, sticky strings connecting his fingers to your cunt.

”Let me taste.”

Dabi cocked his head towards Shigaraki, lifting a brow, “Finding loopholes already—?”

”Just let me taste,” he spat.

With a roll of his eyes, Dabi was reaching his hand out, to which a very eager Shigaraki shuffled forward. He grabbed Dabi’s wrist, lifting his pinky finger high in the air as he shoved his fingers into his mouth.

He sucked them clean, moaning at the taste. He had never tasted pussy before and it was intoxicating. He swirled his tongue around both digits, licking and sucking every last drop of your heady taste from his fingers.

”Alright,” Dabi scoffed, yanking his hand from Shigaraki mouth and tight grip, wiping his spit off on your futon,“I’m pretty sure you got it all.”

”Fuck her,” Shigaraki hissed through his teeth, smacking and licking his lips.

Dabi turned back to you, ”Hear that crybaby? Shiggy wants to see how I rail this pretty little pussy,” he started undoing his belt, “Ready to put on a show?”

You looked at him tiredly, eyelids drooping, watching but not really watching as he stood up and took off his pants. Your glassy eyes stared at his cock with no recognition behind them. 

You had no idea what the fuck was going on.

Realizing just how lost and weak you were had Shigaraki’s hands trembling as he undid his own pants to pull his cock out, gripping it the only way he alone ever has.

Dabi may have been able to touch you, why and how he may never know, but Shigaraki understood you in a way he never could.

You and him were one and the same.

Both his and your hands left a trail of carnage wherever you two went.

He barely registered Dabi moving, situating himself in a new position to fuck you silly, Shigaraki was too enraptured by those lost, glassy eyes. 

He could’ve gotten off to that look alone. He would’ve if it wasn’t for Dabi’s annoyingly raspy voice pulling him from his thoughts.

”If you wanna last more than two minutes, you may wanna slow down there boss-man.”

Shigaraki tsked in response.

Dabi was laying himself beside you, gripping your waist and turning you onto your side. He was acclimating to the pain, the sharp, stabbing sensations you caused to wrack throughout his body and make his head spin was dying down.

He was ready to take more of the punishing sensations only you could give him.

He pressed his chest flush against your back, causing another pleasantly painful thrum throughout his body, making his cock twitch against your ass.

He was hooking his hand behind your knee, opening you up, spreading you open with one leg raised in the air baring you so Shigaraki could see every detail, complete and undeniable proof that he was the only man that could fuck you like this.

Complete and undeniable proof that you belonged to him.

And if he was going to put on a show then he was going to make sure it was a worthwhile watch.

He bent his knee, hooking your leg over his as he lined himself up with your cunt. The sensitive tip against your gummy hole felt like a needle was being shoved through it.

He looked down at you, your glassy eyes stared at Shigaraki.

He grabbed you by your cheeks and turned your head, “Eyes on me,” he grunted, staring down at you as he lifted your leg again.

His heart started pounding against his ribcage as he remembered what happened the last time he shoved his cock deep inside you. The way he came without any ounce of self control, as if your cunt knew exactly what it wanted.

He stared down at your teary eyed face and sucked in a breath.

He drove his hips forward in one fluid motion, completely sheathing himself inside you, pushing past the resistant muscles in your cunt.

You cried out at the sudden pain and intrusion as Dabi shook and trembled beside you, hips spasming before stilling, emptying his balls into you.

”Ah—fuck,” he groaned raspily into your ear, pain and pleasure blending into one full bodied sensation, rendering him completely useless as he fell to the mercy of your cunt.

His head was hazy, barely registering a single fucking thing Shigaraki was going on about. 

He was done for if you ever figured out how much power your pussy had over him. He never wanted to be in another cunt ever again.

His eyes started focusing on your face once more, reveling in the tears that streamed down your cute little cheeks, and the way your pouty lips blubbered with sobs. 

He dipped down, meshing his lips with yours in another bruising kiss, drool leaking between your lips as you continued to cry into his mouth.

Dabi lifted your leg again, high into the air as he started shallowly thrusting, overstimulated and already starting to get hard, your unforgiving cunt barely giving him a chance to think clearly between orgasms.

He shoved his tongue down your throat, messily licking and moaning into your mouth.

Dabi completely forgot about Shigaraki practically kneeling over him, getting as close as he possibly could to the futon you were both on.

He was staring— leering at the point you two were connected. He watched as Dabi’s cock disappeared and reappeared inch by inch in your greedy cunt, Dabi’s creamy white seed gushing out of you the more he pumped his cock inside.

Shigaraki had to grip the base of his cock tightly so he wouldn’t cum too soon.

Dabi slowly started to increase his pace as he started to somewhat regain some of his bearings.

Fuck— the sounds.

Shigaraki moaned pitifully, leaning forward on one hand as the other matched the pace of Dabi’s thrusts on his own cock, listening to the wet slaps of skin on skin. 

If he focused hard enough he could imagine it was him that was fucking you, getting ready to blow his load in your tight cunt instead.

There was blood, tinting the white mess pink.

”’M gonna cum,” Shigaraki choked out at the sight, “‘M gonna cum on her.”

Dabi released your mouth, a string of saliva still connecting the two of you. “Wait til ‘m done.” He grunted, “You better fuckin’ hold it.”

”I’m your boss remember?” He hissed, stroking his cock faster, “I give the orders.”

”When you can put your crusty fuckin’ dick in her without keeling over, then you can give all the fuckin’ orders you want. She’s mine.”

It would have been so easy to reach a hand out and touch Dabi— watch him decay before his eyes.

But given the circumstances and the fact that he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to touch you the way Dabi could, he didn’t.

Now that he had this he couldn’t just go back to watching you around the LOV base— he couldn’t go back to only touching himself in your bed while you were out.

A particularly loud moan escaped you as Dabi angled his hips.

”Fuck, that it crybaby? That feel good?” He grunted, full attention back on you now.

He started fucking into you harder, jackhammering his cock against your g-spot.

Yours, Dabi’s, and Shigaraki’s moans and grunts bounced off the walls of the room along with the slick sounds of his cock thrusting in you to create a lewd cacophony. 

You were suddenly shaking and crying harder than before, digging your nails into the futon.

Dabi threw his head back and cursed, fucking you through your orgasm as you squeezed his cock like a vice.

Shigaraki nearly came as you squirted all over the futon.

Dabi was cumming soon after, adding more to the mess between your legs. 

The moment he came down from his own high he was pulling out in seconds, the feeling of you too intense and overstimulating now that he came twice.

”’M gonna cum on her face,” Shigaraki moaned, shuffling upwards, kneeling above you with his cock shoved inches from your face.

You stared up at him all teary eyed and lost, panting and shaking from your climax.

Seeing you part your lips, trying to say his name was all he needed to cum. White strings of sticky seed painting your pretty face and hair as his vision went white.

Refocusing his eyes he found the depraved scene before him.

It was enough to make his cock twitch again.

You sniffled, laying there covered in both his and Dabi’s cum 

“I want to touch her, how do you do it,” he panted, continuing to stare at your cum covered face.

”You don’t,” Dabi grunted, shaking beside you.

He grit his teeth. Both hands came up to scratch at his neck as he stared down at you with unforgiving eyes, watching you trembling before him. A hostility towards you and the body he couldn’t touch began growing deep within him.

”Then get it back up and fuck her again.”

”Whatever you say boss.”

[not-noelle]

Yandere!Shigaraki

yandere!shigaraki who threatens to decay dabi when you're not looking

yandere!shigaraki who orders you to stay near him during missions

yandere!shigaraki who rarely lets you leave the lair

yandere!shigaraki who considers you his most prized possession

yandere!shigaraki who manipulates you into staying

yandere!shigaraki who plays mind games on you

yandere!shigaraki who tries to cook your favourite food

yandere!shigaraki who lets you play videogames with him

yandere!shigaraki who believes you two are bound to be together

[nataliepruitts]

A Light In My Dark World | Yandere!Shigaraki x Reader

Chapter 2

~~~~~~~~~~

It's been ten years since you left Japan with your parents, you hated leaving without telling Tomura goodbye but your mom didn't give you a chance to. Now, ten years later, you're finally back in Japan to attend college. You couldn't believe your luck when you found out that you got an offer to go to college in Japan, you didn't hesitate to jump at the chance to see this beautiful country again.

As you got settled in your dorm you kept thinking about Tomura, wondering how he was doing and if you would see him while you were in Japan. You can't deny that you had a small crush on him but he scared you and you weren't sure if you could have ever had anything with him because you would always be worrying if the slightest wrong move you make, or the wrong thing you say, would set him off and make him turn against you. But despite him being a little scary and creepy, you couldn't stop the crush from forming.

Now you wonder if he even remembers you, or did he forget about you. You wonder if he found a nice Japanese girl that he decided to settle down with, your heart aches at the thought but you will be happy for him if he did. You just want him to be happy. You had hopes that he found a better life… That is until you saw him on the news one day as one of Japan's most wanted villains.

Your heart sank. Tomura is a villain?

You didn't want to believe it but when you saw his picture you knew it was him. It breaks your heart to see that he's living a life of villainy. Now you're certain that he most likely forgot about you.

You told your roommate and your friends that you know him and they comfort you. They had all been so kind to you ever since you started college with them which surprised you since they're the type of girls that you wouldn't imagine being so nice to a newcomer. When you first met them you immediately noticed how beautiful they were with their makeup on, their hair all done up in different styles, and the really nice clothes that they wear. You were surprised when they wanted to be friends with you, they're such sweethearts and you're happy that you're friends with them.

You have always considered yourself to be plain-looking and not all that attractive, even though a lot of people tell you how beautiful you are. You never had any luck in attracting boys, they always went for your friends, both in your home country and here. Though you assume that the main reason why boys in Japan don't show any interest in you is because you're a foreigner, along with the fact that they're always more attracted to your friends than you. You highly doubt that even Tomura shares your feelings, you're sure that if you ever told him that you had a small crush on him he would just scoff at you and tell you how he only ever saw you as a friend, that hurts to think about but you're certain it's true.

But you know that he was really upset about you leaving. You went to the vacation house after you arrived in Japan, only to find it completely destroyed with the ground fully decayed. The locals told you how a boy completely destroyed the place ten years ago after finding out that the girl who was staying there with her parents had left and was possibly never going to return. You knew it was Tomura who did it and you knew it was because you left, but you aren't sure if he was pissed that you left without saying goodbye or if he was really upset that his friend was gone. Either way, Tomura killed about a dozen people that day.

You have been in Japan for half a year now and you have done nothing but focus on your studies. Your friends will take you out every so often to get you away from your school work but mostly you have your nose in your books. You're not worried about boys or trying to start anything romantic because that's not what you're there for, you're there to go to school and get your scholarship.

One night your roommate and friends decide to have a sleepover, they know how you've been stressing about studies and dealing with the news that your childhood friend, Tomura, is a villain, so they chose to have a sleepover with you to help you relax and take your mind off things. You five were up all night playing video games, watching anime, eating snacks, making jokes, and laughing with each other to the point where you would almost piss in your pajama pants. It was a lot of fun and really did help you calm your nerves and take your mind off of everything. But it was a bad idea to do it on a school night.

The following morning your roommate wakes you up in a panic. "Y/n, wake up! We overslept, we're gonna be late for class!"

You jump out of bed and join your friends as you all rush to get ready. The five of you ran out of the dorms and toward the school building, but something was off. You slow down as you get this eerie feeling, something in your gut telling you to turn and run away. Your friends slow down as they get the same feeling. You guys look at the school as you slowly walk towards it. "Something's not right." You speak softly as you continue taking hesitant footsteps toward the building.

Before any of your friends could say anything, you guys see the principal of the school come running out of the building. He runs right towards you guys as he shouts at you, "Run away! Get away from here!" He gets closer to you and you can see the fear and panic in his eyes, "The League of Villains are here, their leader is looking for a certain girl!" Not a second after he finishes talking, his whole body is suddenly engulfed in blue flames.

You and your friends scream as you turn to run away but blue flames surround you guys and block your path. You turn to see a tall guy with black, messy hair, burned scars all over his body with staples holding his skin together, and some piercings. You can see smoke coming off of his right hand and you guess that he was the one that the blue flames came from. Dabi. You remember seeing him on the news.

"You girls are late for class," he says with a smirk on his face. "Come on, you five are the last girls that need to be taken to the boss. Better hurry up 'cause he's getting ready to tear down this whole school just to find this girl that he's looking for." Dabi steps to the side as he gestures for you guys to walk ahead of him, two other members of the league come out to help him usher you guys into the building.

Their leader is looking for a girl? Who is their leader? Is he talking about Tomura? Whoever this girl is that they're looking for, I feel sorry for her. I hope she will be okay. You're pulled from your thoughts when you enter the building and Dabi starts talking.

"These five girls were running late for class."

You look around and see all the other girls sitting on the floor huddled together, crying and looking completely terrified. You also see pieces of people all over the floor, some of the girls were killed. Your heart pounds in your chest as your eyes scan over the scene before landing on the guy who you know is responsible for the deaths, Tomura Shigaraki. He stands there scratching his neck as he mumbles to himself.

"She's supposed to be here, master said she was at this school. But where is she? I will tear apart this whole school if I have to in order to find her." He waited all these years to see you again. He was beginning to doubt that you would ever return until he got the news from All For One that you were finally back in Japan. Naturally, he was really pissed when he found out that you were in Japan for half a year and he was never told, but he was more than thrilled to hear that you have finally returned.

Tomura finally registered that Dabi was talking and he looked over at him before looking over at you and your friends. Once his gaze falls on you his eyes widen as he feels his heart rate speed up. You're even more beautiful than you were the last time he saw you. He moves toward you, not taking his gaze off you for a second.

You place your bag on the ground before walking toward him, your friends grab your arms to stop you but you give them a reassuring smile. "It's okay. You guys stay here." You pull away from them and move toward your old friend, you don't know what this is about or why he's here but if you can do anything to save your friends and the other girls you will do it. Your heart pounds faster in your chest as you get closer to him, "Tomura, I don't know which girl you guys are after or why you're after her, but please just let her be. All of these girls are terrified right now, she's probably scared out of her mind."

Tomura lets out the most maniacal laugh you have ever heard, "Scared out of her mind? It doesn't look to me like she's scared out of her mind, not when she's standing right in front of me telling me all of that." Your eyes widen, it didn't occur to you that you were the one he was looking for. You can see the corners of his mouth poke out from the sides of the hand mask he's wearing as he looks at you with a possessive look in his eyes. You stand there frozen as he gets closer to you. "I came to claim what is mine."

"Wha-?" You weren't able to finish your question when you felt a needle inserted into your neck, unknown fluids entering your body, fluids that were concocted together to put someone to sleep instantly. Dabi removes the needle from your neck and your body falls limp, but Tomura pulls your limp body into his arms to keep you from falling to the floor. He holds you tightly as he picks you up bridal style, being careful not to place all of his fingers on you. He turns to head for the warp gate that Kurogiri had already opened for him, completely ignoring the pleas of your friends who were begging him to let you go. He finally has you with him again and he will never let you go.

[lesinquietes]

The cops wind up knocking, just as Convict!Shigaraki predicted. When you come to the door, you’re wearing a nice, homely dress. He picked it out. There are flowers on it that remind him of his mother — not that he tells you that. He’s still trying to convince himself you’re only temporary, when he knows damn well he’s in it for the long haul. After all, how can he give you up when you’re so much fun to ruin?

The officers don’t stay long; you don’t give them a reason to. You tell them you’re cleaning up the house for when your fiancé comes home in a few months. He’s currently out of town for work. It’s a simple excuse to buy. You certainly act the part flawlessly, chuckling and offering them a glass of lemonade as you gab about your engagement. Eventually, with empathetic smiles, the men bid you a good day and wish you a happy wedding. They don’t even ask for a photo of him.

Shigaraki grins when you close the door and lock up. He watches the vehicle drive back down to the main road and turn left. No doubt, they’re going to the station to issue a national manhunt for him. You played the perfect role of his doting soon-to-be-wife. A thought crosses his mind that he might actually like that — a partner in crime. But he discards any thoughts of romance at this moment in favour of diving between your legs to give you a proper reward.

He hikes your dress up so most of it rests around your waist. Hastily, he drags your panties aside and admires how cute your pussy is. You moan sweetly when he spits on your clit to get you ready. He leans in and breathes gingerly against your folds, watching with delight as you quiver beneath him. God, how did he get so lucky? He could have stumbled into your neighbour’s yard instead, but the universe was on his side that fateful night. The more time he spends with you, corrupting that once innocent head of yours, the more he tells himself he’s not going to leave.

He licks and sucks on your little clit. The cries that fly from your lips are wanton. It makes his mast twitch in his jeans. He won’t indulge in your tightness yet, though; you’re owed an orgasm for your obedience. He buries himself between your thighs and doesn’t surface until you unravel. Cert soon, at the height of your pleasure, your body buzzes. Your toes feel tingly and you lift your hips closer to his generous mouth. The overstimulation is too much.

When you cum, you scream the name he gave you. It’s his birth name, and it’s not on file. His mother had him and his sister off the books. Tenko doesn’t exist; in the eyes of the law, only Shigaraki does. Until now, he thought Tenko was dead. But something shifts when you chant the name; something he thought was lost.

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𝔉𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔢𝔯 𝔞𝔲

[artemis32]

Carte Blanche

Yandere! Shigaraki x female reader

College au (no quirks)

This is an idea I’ve had for literal months, and I’ve finally gotten around to writing it, so enjoy :)) Yes this is also part of an event, but as I’ve mentioned, I was in an accident, so I really can’t say when the next few fics will be out

I mention Dabi. He’s tall. Because I said so. Shigaraki still has his blue hair because it’s superior (sorry to all the white-haired Shiggy fans) <33 Big dick Shiggy is canon btw, don’t try to argue with me

Also the amount of dialogue I included in this?? I deserve a pat on the back – a noddy badge, if you will – I suck at dialogue

tw - stalking, kidnapping, threats and violence, noncon, kinda incel Shiggy in the beginning, abuse, oral sex (fem receiving), creampie, belly bulge, yandere, dark content, slapping (not in a sexy way), choking (also not in a sexy way), chasing, drugging, loss of virginity (yeah the reader is a virgin, I thought that writing was all about self projecting), nipple play, 

I think that’s all?? Let me know if I missed anything

word count - 21k

****

art’s birthday event masterlist

bnha masterlist

****

****

You had always believed that life would go exactly as planned - that you would be prepared for any possible outcome, any unforeseen event. And for the first twenty years of your life, it worked. You'd planned everything, down to the most minute detail, and nothing happened that you couldn't prepare for.

High school had been easy, or as easy as it could be. You did well in all of your classes, even if you weren’t the top achiever, you excelled at your extracurriculars, and you were friendly with enough people that you’d been dubbed popular.

Many of the friends you had through high school had moved on with their lives, and those that remained were still overly friendly with you.

University was a whole new experience.

You were still friendly and known somewhat widely throughout campus, and you still did well in both your extracurriculars and academics, but it felt more forced somehow, and you felt the strain it put on you more than you had before.

Juggling all aspects of your life grew tiring, and that same exhaustion you felt showed only within your academics, specifically in the one class you wish you had a choice in taking.

Software engineering was not a class you had expected to take at any point in your university career when you’d applied to university as a fresh faced first year, right out of high school - not that you had to take it at all.

But you grew accustomed to procrastinating the more important aspects of university life, and by your third year, you barely rushed to apply for your classes. So really, it was your own fault for leaving it for so long - long enough that any classes you may have wanted to take were filled up.

It was the only class with any open slots, and by the time you’d applied, you had brushed it off, telling yourself that if you studied hard enough, you’d be able to scrape by with a grade good enough to push you into the next year.

Now however, as you were staring down at the bright red F on your most recent test paper, you were beginning to think you’d bitten off more than you could chew.

****

You lean as far back as the chair allows, stretching your arms as far above your head as you can, letting out a deep groan of relief as your joints pop.

As you’re rolling your neck in an attempt to get rid of a stubborn kink, you feel a heavy palm land on your shoulder, holding you in place.

Flinching back proves to be a mistake, your knee slamming into the desk as you let out an unrestrained yelp. Your leg ached.

Your arms flail around your head, whacking the arm holding you down.

Turning to glare at the culprit, you’re not surprised to find your scarlet haired best friend, standing behind you with a panicked look on his face as he holds his hands up, shushing you quietly.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Kirishima, what the hell?” you yell.

He shoves a calloused palm over your mouth, looking around with a scared look on his face.

“Shh, keep it down, we’re going to get kicked out if you keep yelling.” he whispers in a heated tone.

You give him a deadpan expression, sticking your tongue out to lick over the palm of his hand.

Yuck yuck yuck yuck.

His face twists as he yanks his hand back, rubbing it roughly over his shirt.

“You’re disgusting.” he mutters under his breath.

You’re one to talk, do you know how gross your hand tastes? you think to yourself.

After you manage to compose yourself, you throw him one more glare before pulling out the chair next to yours with your foot, gesturing towards it.

He drops into it, and it rattles with the added weight. He pays the loud creaking no mind, instead stretching out widely before fixing you with a questioning look.

“So, what’s up? It sounded urgent.”

You clear your throat awkwardly, swallowing your pride with a heavy heart before explaining your situation.

“I’m failing," you admit with a frown.

Immediately, his mouth opens, a slew of questions on the tip of his tongue no doubt, but you cut him off with a pointed look.

“I’m failing engineering 374,” you clarify, stressing the course before continuing. “And I needed some advice about what to do. I have a few ideas, but an outside perspective is always appreciated.”

You make a waving gesture with your hand, signalling that he could speak.

He puffs up his cheeks, blowing out in a drawn-out breath, leaning back in his chair with crossed arms.

“Well shit, sorry to hear that. Let’s see, hmm.”

A contemplative look covers his eyes for a few short moments before he nods to himself. He sits up straight, hands coming down on his thighs harshly.

“So! The best course of action would be to talk to the professor -?”

“- Kurogiri,” you clarify.

Kirishima nods in acknowledgement, continuing with a hum.

“Professor Kurogiri, right. He’ll probably assign you a tutor to help you cover the work you’re struggling with. If after that, you haven’t improved – well, then he’ll probably try to supplement your credits through extra assignments or other courses or something like that.”

He looks at you expectantly, waiting to hear your thoughts on his idea.

You hum, thumbing the pages of your textbook.

“Yeah, I thought as much. Thanks Kiri, I appreciate it.”

You throw him a tired smile.

He reaches out to you, almost hesitantly.

“Hey, don’t stress yourself out about it, it’s not a big deal. You look tired, you should take a break.”

Protests fall from your lips before he finishes his sentence.

“Nuh uh, I’m not asking - wait, here we go.”

He grabs your books and pens, shoving them haphazardly into your bag, slinging it over his shoulder and dragging your chair out.

“Wait, I still have to study!”

“Nope,” he pops the p. “You’re coming with me, doctor’s orders.”

He checks his watch.  “Besides, we were supposed to meet up soon anyway, and you don’t look ready to me.”

“I - uh,” you avoid his gaze awkwardly, smoothing your hands over your thighs. He scoffs in disbelief.

“Don’t tell me you planned on ditching last minute? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He drags you out of the chair before easily hauling you over his shoulder. You let out a shocked squeak and whisper harshly at him to put you down.

“No. No ifs, ands or buts, you’re coming. Exercise and movement help with mental performance, and being outside is healthy for you. You can’t stay cooped up in here with your books forever.”

“And,” he adds while you struggle in his grip, all too aware of the judgemental stares of your peers, “You made a commitment - you can’t flake out now because things aren’t going your way. You’re the one who insisted we all join this club anyway, and you know Bakugo won’t be happy if you ditch again.”

“Fine! Fine, you win.” You exclaim loudly once the two of you had exited the library. “Now put me down, I’m not a child.”

He laughs lightly, letting you down gently before gesturing for you to lead the way.

The walk back to your dorm is short and filled with mindless chatter between the two of you. That was something you loved about Kirishima - nothing felt forced or draining about being around him. The conversation flowed smoothly and getting along with him was easy.

By the time you’d changed and made your way back to the main campus, everyone else in your small group had arrived, minus a few of your busier members.

Ten minutes after you’d arrived, the lot of you set off.

****

“You're kidding right?” Denki asks in disbelief, blinking with wide eyes as you nod.

After a moment, his face morphs from a thoughtful expression to a wicked one as he smiles mischievously, cackling loudly.

“Hahaha, maaan, it sucks to be you. Not me though,” he says, puffing out his chest almost proudly, “I’m smart enough on my own. I don’t need some wackjob tutor to baby me through my courses.”

Bakugo whacks the back of his head, and the yelp that he lets out is music to your ears.

“Shut up, you’re barely passing as is. You of all people shouldn’t judge.”

He shifts his gaze to you, eyeing you as Kirishima and Sero nod in silent agreement.

“And hey, it isn’t all bad - Professor Kurogiri isn’t unreasonable, I’m sure these tutoring sessions will at least count for your participation mark,” Sero says.

“Besides, he wouldn’t recommend someone he wasn’t sure could help you.”

You smile tightly, nodding when they keep staring at you.

Slapping your hands on your thighs, you rise from your spot on the ground and dust the dirt off your leggings.

“Well, that’s enough moping for today. Let’s head back before it gets dark.”

The five of you pack up the scattered remains of your dinner and tidy up around the clearing you’d chosen to rest in.

Though it had been light when you’d left, night had fallen a lot faster than you’d thought, and you couldn’t help but worry about getting lost. Your company quelled the worst of your fears, what with Bakugo and Sero being two of the most direction-oriented people you knew.

Over dinner, you’d told the group about your failing grade and the plan you and Kirishima had made to improve it. While three of the four took your bad luck gracefully, Denki jumped at the chance to tease you for it.

A large part of you felt at ease after talking with them. What they said must be true, perhaps you would truly end up passing the semester. Then you’d never have to take the dreaded course again.

The thought lifted your spirits, and you instead occupied your mind with ideas of what you would do after you’d passed - celebrating with Mina was a must, you’d neglected your friendship for a brief stint, and though you knew she would never take it to heart, you felt bad whenever you had to turn down plans in favour of studying for a test you were sure to fail.

Sero joked lightly with you on the hike back, most likely trying to ease your worries. Regardless of his intention, it worked.

Thoughts of failing having left your mind, you felt much better than you had all semester.

****

The study room that you’d booked was small, almost cosy.

Private.

A worn old wooden table sat in the corner of the room; three chairs shoved into the small space next to it. Even the window right above it was small.

It was one of the older study areas on campus, built when the university was first established, which meant that not many students used it, instead preferring the more modern rooms with a better internet connection.

Why your tutor chose one of the older study rooms, you weren’t sure. It didn’t do much to ease your nerves.

Regardless, you pulled out your laptop and notes and went about setting everything up while you waited for your tutor to arrive.

After a few minutes, there’s nothing left for you to do but wait.

You tap away at your laptop, pulling up the most recent email sent to you by your professor, the one detailing the specifics of your new tutor.

Shigaraki Tomura, a software engineering student currently completing his doctorate degree, received the highest grades in his classes.

It had stunned you somewhat when you’d seen that he would be your tutor. Not that you knew of him previously or anything. More so, you thought that someone with grades like his had better things to do than help tutor some dumbass who could barely scrape by in what was supposed to be an easy course.

Regardless, you didn’t question the decision, though you almost wish you had when the door swings open harshly and a tired looking man slinks in.

He says nothing as he drops his belongings on the tabletop and drops into a chair, only addressing you when he grabs his laptop out of the worn black backpack.

“So, you’re the one who needs my help?” he mutters. “You look like the type.”

Yep, I already hate him.

You hold back a retort, instead clearing your throat and introducing yourself.

“You must be Shigaraki? It’s nice to meet you. And thank you for this, I really appreciate it," you say with a smile, albeit a forced one.

“Oh, and here,” you hand him a cup of coffee, the cardboard hot beneath your fingers. “I’m not sure if you like coffee but I got one for you anyway.”

You’re still smiling, eyes closed, head tilted to the side.

He stares at you for a long moment, so long that you almost speak again before he scoffs, still hunched over his laptop. “Yeah, yeah. It’s not as if I had a choice in being here, damn Kurogiri.”

Your eyes widen, his blatant disrespect shocking you.

“And I don’t drink coffee,” he spits out. His tone is venomous, and it almost makes you flinch back.

He continues on, either oblivious or uncaring of your inner turmoil.

“So, what exactly do you need help with, huh? The sooner we get done, the better.”

You open your mouth to respond but he rudely cuts you off before you get the chance.

“No, no, wait, let me guess - everything?”

He smirks wickedly when you remain silent, the embarrassment making your face burn.

“Right on the mark, huh?”

You grind your teeth together, forcing yourself to take a deep breath, nodding despite how angry you feel.

“Yeah, haha, you got me there.”

The laugh you let out sounds forced, even to your own ears.

What the fuck is up with this guy.

You aren’t given any time to dwell on the man or his bad attitude as he begins talking, covering the very basics of what you’d already learnt.

He speaks quickly, and you have to ask him to slow down several times, earning a disbelieving scoff each time.

By the end of your first session, you felt drained and on the verge of tears.

He was just so rude - it threw you off, his nasty comments about your intelligence, your appearance, even your damn handwriting. But despite his lack of respect or general decency, you had to admit, he was a wonderful tutor.

Not only had you memorised the material, you actually understood it.

So, you decided to suck it up. Ignoring his bad attitude, his dislike of you, putting up with him for a while - it would be worth it in the long run. You could handle a few more months.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

****

You study him out of the corner of your eye while he clicks away on his laptop.

He was older, you decided, four or five years at most.

Though he was skinny, he was also slightly more muscular than you’d expect. His hair was a peculiar shade of blue and looked as if he’d cut it with a pair of kitchen scissors, the shaggy pieces brushing his eyebrows and the top of his ears.

His skin looked pale, dry, and taunt around his neck and eyes, his lips suffering the same fate - caused by a nervous tick, maybe?

Though his clothes sat loosely on his gangly frame, it seemed to suit his style.

What else…

You continue your silent assessment, eyes drifting over his arms, his hands, his pale, spider-like fingers, flying over the keys of his keyboard. Your gaze travels further downwards, and then back up, past his shoulders, curled into himself, past his neck, past his mouth.

Red.

His eyes were red. Brighter than Tokoyami’s, or Kirishima’s, or even Bakugo’s.

They were beautiful. And they were angry.

You’re so distracted by your assessment of him that you almost miss his disapproving glare.

“Are you done yet?” he asks flatly, his eyes hard.

You stutter out an apology, laughing awkwardly, instead grabbing your notes, and flipping to the most challenging material.

“I, um, struggle a lot with this. I figured that since we covered the basics last time, we could move on to the areas I usually have more difficulty with this time.”

He stares at you, through you, fingers twitching where they lay on the keyboard, curling into fists before flexing out. His jaw clenches and he scowls at you.

“You figured, huh?” He laughs, and it’s a dry, rasping sound, one that sounds more painful than melodious.

“Well, I think it’s better if I decide stuff like that - I’m not the one failing, am I? You just sit there and listen while I explain, and maybe pretend to understand what I’m talking about.”

Your hands curl into tight fists on your lap, and you try not to let your anger show on your face. His tone is so mocking, so demeaning. It makes your blood boil.

It must work, your attempt at hiding your anger, covering it up with a smile so forced that it’s more of a grimace, because he just shakes his head and continues speaking.

Despite this being your third session together, he's already made his dislike of you clear. What you’d done to offend him, you didn’t know. You weren’t sure you wanted to ask either. You tried not to let it get to you - you still smiled, still greeted him as warmly as you could, still made an effort to include him in conversation.

Originally, you’d thought he was shy, or rather, he didn’t know how to act around new people. But you had your tutoring sessions twice a week, each being well over an hour long, sometimes easily reaching three or four. Seeing him so often, spending as much time with him as you did, it had done nothing to soften his brash attitude.

But still, you held out in the hopes that he’d warm up to you, even the slightest bit.

You wouldn’t go so far as to say you hoped the two of you would become friends, but you at least wanted him to act more kindly towards you. You’d taken to bringing him small gifts each session. Well, not gifts exactly - small things like drinks or snacks, mainly in a failed attempt to try to get to know him, try to get him to warm up to you.

With your mind made up, you dedicated yourself to listening as he continued to speed through the course work.

****

The silence of the room is broken only by the scratchy sound of pen on paper and the distinct tap tap tap of a keyboard.

You’re comfortable in the quiet, focused intently on the essay you’re currently writing.

Next to you, both Sero and Kirishima are also focused on their work. It had been that way for the past two and a half hours.

Sero breaks the stillness first, leaning back in his chair with a groan as he swipes his hand over his eyes.

“Man, this sucks. Why is Professor Aizawa such a hardass when it comes to essays?” he asks, his tone a whining lilt.

You snort, deciding it’s probably time to take a break.

“Careful there Sero, you’re starting to sound like Kaminari.”

If looks could kill, you’d be five feet under.

“Oh, bite me.”

His death glare lets up only when he hears Kirishima bark out a laugh.

“Sero’s not wrong, this shit sucks,” he states in a flat tone, making you laugh.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m beat. I think I’ll go raid the vending machines upstairs - do you guys want anything?”

You perk up at the mention of snacks, rifling through your bag for a few loose coins that had been discarded near the bottom. You hand him the fistful of change, listing off the snacks you wanted.

Kirishima deadpans, raising an eyebrow as he addresses you.

“What am I, a pack mule?”

“What, you’re the one who offered to go. I can go myself if it’s such a problem.”

He shakes his head, already making his way to the door.

“It’s fine, you owe me though,” he calls over his shoulder.

You scowl at his retreating figure, turning back to face your laptop, though the words had long since started to blur together.

“Hey, how far are you with yours?” Sero asks, leaning over to eye your laptop.

“Uh, I have about two thousand words to go. But hey, that’s further than I was two hours ago,” you say in a joking tone.

Sero’s eyes bulge.

“Two thousand? What’s your topic?” he demands, shifting his chair closer to you.

“Um, ethics versus morality.”

“And you’ve managed to write three thousand words on that in two hours?” he questions you, his expression incredulous.

“Yeah? How far are you?”

His words make you uneasy - had you misunderstood the assignment?

“How far am I? Pfft, I have, like, a thousand five hundred words. Barely,” he emphasises.

“But hey, aren’t you, like, super good at this subject?” he asks, his eyes brightening.

“I mean, I guess? I don’t know, I just enjoy the subject, and Professor Aizawa is a great lecturer,” you state, leaning back in your seat.

“That means you can help me out right?” he insists, grabbing your shoulders when you lean back. “Come on, please? I really suck at this subject.”

You laugh lightly, gripping his forearms. “Sure, I can try to help you, though I really can’t promise you anything.”

His palms squeeze your shoulders, his grin brightening. “Thanks, you’re awesome.”

“She is, isn’t she? I swear, she’s probably the best in the class,” Kirishima says, having entered without you or Sero having noticed.

You jump up, bouncing towards the red head with a big smile, eagerly grabbing your snacks.

“Thanks Eijiro, you’re the best,” you say, falling back into your seat with your snacks in your lap.

“Since I made the trek to get you snacks, do you think you could help me out too?” Kirishima asks sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Sure, I don’t see why not,” you shrug. “But don’t blame me if you guys do badly, you’re the ones asking for my help.”

A chorus of thank you follows, and the two crowd around you with rapid fire questions.

“Wait,” you say before their questions overwhelm you.

“Since I’m basically your tutor right now, what do I get in return?”

They exchange a glance then look back at you.

“Well, there’s that hike at the end of the semester,” Sero mentions.

“Yeah, what about it?” you ask.

“Y’know, you always get too tired to carry your own stuff, so maybe Kirishima and I would be able to help you out with that.”

You’re sold on the offer before he finishes his sentence.

“Deal,” you say, offering up your hand for him to shake.

He looks shocked, but shakes your hand, nonetheless.

“Huh. I wasn’t expecting it to be that easy.”

Kirishima laughs, leaning forward to look at Sero.

“She hates doing the heavy lifting, especially on longer hikes,” he says as you hum in agreement next to him.

The three of you get back to work soon after that, but Kirishima interrupts a few minutes later.

“Hey, uh, how’s that whole tutoring thing going, by the way? The one that Professor Kurogiri arranged for you?” he asks, his focus still on the textbook in front of him as he flips through its pages.

You grimace, shaking your head.

“I mean, the sessions are great, I’m definitely understanding the work now…” you say.

“But?” Kirishima prompts, his focus now fully on you.

“But… Well, my tutor, he’s kind of strange. More rude than strange, I guess.”

You sigh.

“I don’t know, maybe I’m taking it the wrong way, he’s just - he doesn’t really seem to have a filter. But hey, maybe it’s just me.”

The two men look at you with concerned gazes, but you wave them off.

“It’s fine, I promise. And on the brightside, other than his attitude, he’s also, like, super smart, so he’s great at helping me out with the work.”

“Hey, if he’s being rude or overstepping in any way, just let me know. We can sort it out,” Kirishima says, Sero nodding along.

“It’s okay, but thanks for the offer. And really, it’s only for this semester. I can handle it, trust me.”

They drop the topic after that, but you see the concern lingering in their eyes.

I can handle it; you think to yourself.

****

Despite your reassurances to both Kirishima and Sero, by your sixth tutor session, you’re nearing your wits end.

Every little comment he makes manages to worm its way under your skin, and despite your best attempts to ignore him, to pretend his insults don’t bother you, it’s evident he can see the effect his words have on you.

Like right now, for example. He’s been laughing at you under his breath for the last fifteen minutes, and you’re near tears by the time you drag your eyes up to meet his gaze.

His face is turned away from you, his focus on his laptop. It might have looked as though he was ignoring you, but the slight shake of his shoulders gives him away.

When you had arrived, he’d told you, somewhat smugly, that you’d have to try to answer the questions he gave you by yourself.

Initially, you thought you could do it - surely it couldn’t be that difficult? You were proven wrong after sitting, staring at the same problem for the last forty-five minutes. The first question of twenty.

You knew what he wanted - you knew he wanted you to ask him for help. Why, you weren’t sure. Maybe he wanted some sort of twisted power trip? Have you beg him for help with tears of frustration or embarrassment in your eyes? Regardless of his reasoning, and regardless of your previous resolve, you were frustrated and beyond embarrassed, and you wanted the session to end more than anything, but a stipulation of your tutoring was that you weren’t allowed to leave until you’d completed the set work for each session.

If that had been a rule of Shigaraki’s design, you would have laughed and ignored it, but it was a decision made by Professor Kurogiri of all people. Ignoring it would have been disrespectful, considering all that your professor had done for you thus far.

And so, you decide to suck up your pride and ask him for help, even if you’d much rather walk into oncoming traffic or stick pins in your eyes than give him the satisfaction of admitting that you were as dumb as he thought you were.

You shuffle the pile of papers, straighten out your stationery and laptop, take a drink of water, but eventually, you can’t stall any longer, so you pluck up the courage, steel your resolve, and clear your throat.

“Um, Shigaraki?” you address him in a quiet tone, waiting until he turns to look at you with amused eyes. He hums, nodding at you to continue, lips still quirked in what can only be described as a self-satisfied smirk.

You try to smile, though it comes out more strained than you’d like.

“Do, um- Do you think you could help me with this question?” you ask with an averted gaze.

“Please.” It’s added on a long second later, more of an afterthought than a genuine nicety.

He makes you wait for his answer, grabbing his bag and making a show of shuffling through its contents. Eventually, he pulls out an energy drink – a neon green can with spiked writing covering the sides.

It fizzes when he pops the tab, and he gulps down a few mouthfuls before setting it down and wiping what had dribbled out from the corners of his mouth with the back of his hand.

Gross.

“What, you’re so incompetent that you can’t even answer these questions? They’re so easy,” he remarks scornfully, his tone filled with false concern, nose and eyebrows scrunching up in an expression of mocking disappointment.

“I knew you were dumb, but this? This is something else. Have these study sessions taught you nothing, or are you as airheaded as you look?”

You feel yourself growing frustrated, and as hard as you try, you can’t seem to keep the scowl off your face.

“You’re a tutor,” you reply tersely. “You’re here to help me, and that’s all I’m asking for. It’s not like I’m asking for a limb or your first-born child here.”

He smiles more widely at your words, aware that he’s getting under your skin.

When he doesn’t say anything, you huff, turning your back towards him and face your laptop, mumbling under your breath.

“Who shoved a stick up your ass. You’d swear I shit in your cereal with the way you treat me.”

His palm, wide and pale, lands on your shoulder. You jump slightly before tensing up under his grip, all too aware of how close he is.

“You should just drop this course,” he whispers in your ear. “After all, whores don’t have much use for a degree - not when they sleep their way to the top of the corporate ladder.”

A slight ringing fills your ears, and it persists even after he lets go of your shoulder and moves back to his seat.

You try to shut his words out, to swallow down your anger and embarrassment. You try, you really do, but the ringing fills your head, and your anger makes it worse, leaving you dizzy and hot.

You fail miserably, standing abruptly, shoving your chair back without care.

“You know what, no,” you say while shoving your belongings into your bag, slinging it over your shoulder. Tears prickle at your eyes despite how hard you blink to keep them at bay, and your hands curl into tight fists. “No, I’m done here.”

“I don’t care if I fail - I refuse to deal with you for another minute, let alone the rest of the semester. You’re worse than a child, at least they know when to shut up.”

You walk out with a feeling of satisfaction burning in your chest. You only wish you’d said more, told him exactly what you thought about him and his disgusting attitude.

But as you walk back to your dorm, you lose yourself in your thoughts, and the satisfied feeling is soon replaced with overwhelming anxiety.

What would Professor Kurogiri say when you told him what had happened? Who else would he assign to you? Surely none of his options were worse than Shigaraki. You’d just have to ask him when you went to tell him that you couldn’t deal with the insolent tutor any longer.

****

“I’m sorry, but you need to remain with Mr Shigaraki.”

Your mouth drops open at your professor's words.

“But Professor-!”

He cuts you off with a raise of his hand. “If you’ll give me a chance to explain,” he says with a pointed look.

You huff out, but nod at him anyway, allowing him to continue.

“These tutoring sessions are for your benefit as much as they are for Mr Shigaraki. As you may well know, he’s at the top of his class, but despite that, he too lacks credits in certain areas.”

He looks at you with an expectant gaze. When you say nothing, he sighs and continues.

“Mr Shigaraki is… for lack of a better word, a recluse. While his grades may be exemplary, his participation leaves much to be desired. That being said, I assigned him as a tutor to supplement those credits, and to teach him the valuable life skills of compromise and teamwork.”

His words don’t surprise you - Shigaraki didn’t seem like the type to work well in groups or voluntarily take part in anything. Your only problem with your professor’s plan was that he chose you to help Shigaraki.

Shigaraki’s bad attitude was tolerable, he was harmless - but his hate filled words weren’t something you could handle for another day, let alone the whole semester.

As if he senses your thoughts, he continues, fixing you with a sudden cold, hard look, his golden eyes cutting into you.

“Should you choose to cease these tutoring sessions, not only will Mr Shigaraki fail, but you will as well. Now, as I’ve said, you will need to remain with Mr Shigaraki as your tutor until the end of the semester. Good day.”

You sit in shock, watching as he leaves without waiting for a reply.

Had… Had your professor just threatened you? There was no way.

****

Two hours later, you’re still thinking, sitting in shock from the earlier encounter.

You sit in a cafe off campus, slowly sipping at your drink as you stare off into space. A hand waves in front of your face, grabbing your attention.

“Oh, hi Mina,” you greet the pink haired girl with a forced smile, rising to hug her.

“What’s up with that look?” she asks with a light laugh as she sits across from you.

Sighing heavily, you slump forward, hesitating for only a moment before asking, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.” Mina is leaning forward now, curiosity openly painting her features.

“Shigaraki Tomura - what do you know about him?”

It was something you should have done weeks ago, before meeting with your professor, before your first tutoring session - you should have asked when you found out that he would be your tutor.

Mina was an encyclopaedia of information on the people of your university. No one did anything without Mina finding out about it. She knew everything about everyone and that meant that people often came to her for whatever gossip or advice they needed.

She frowns lightly, drumming her nails against the tabletop as she thinks.

“Well, I know that he’s older than us. I know that he’s a decent student with great marks - like, top of the course kind of great, but his social skills are terrible - did you know he sulks in the corner whenever he’s at a party? He doesn’t even talk to anyone. Like, why even bother showing up,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Oh, and his dad is one of the university's main donors, so he’s, like, totally rich. Major daddy’s boy; gets whatever he wants.”

She falls silent for a moment before shrugging and taking a sip from her own drink.

“That’s about it. Like I said, he isn’t very social, so I don’t know much about him. Plus, the people he hangs around aren’t really my crowd either - they’re, y’know,” she gestures strangely with her hand, twisting her wrist in circles, though it drops down when you shrug, telling her that you don’t understand.

“You know, Dabi and Hawks, all those guys,” she says, wrinkling her nose as if she smelled something bad.

“A bunch of damn creeps,” she mutters under her breath, barely loud enough for you to hear her.

You fix her with a blank stare.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She pauses for a moment, a dark look overshadowing her eyes. The look disappears faster than it appeared, and she laughs again, stirring her drink.

“Yeah, I’m not surprised - all you do these days is study.”

She pouts, pointing the spoon she’d been using in her drink at you in an accusatory way.

“I miss my best friend; we never do anything fun anymore.”

That makes you laugh, and it's a light, carefree sound. You’d forgotten how much you enjoyed Mina’s company, despite having such opposing personalities. After the horrible month you’d had, being around her felt like a breath of fresh air.

“Well maybe if you stayed in the dorms we’d see each other more often,” you tease.

During your first two years at university, most of your friends had lived in the student dormitories alongside you. At the beginning of your third year though, Mina had let you know that she’d managed to find an off-campus apartment that she’d be staying in for the year.

Originally, it had been wonderful - you didn’t have to worry about getting into trouble for staying up late or sneaking people in whenever you slept over at Mina’s, but the novelty soon wore off when classes became more strenuous, and you had to spend more time in your own dorm.

Plans became few and far between, though the two of you remained very close friends.

Mina wrinkles her nose again, her eyebrows scrunching together.

“No way, the dorms were fun and all, but I love having my own space. I don’t think I could ever go back to sharing such a cramped space like that again.”

She deliberates for a moment before speaking again.

“You know, the offer still stands - I don’t mind if you move in with me. In fact, I want you to. It’ll be so fun, just the two of us, exactly like it used to be.”

Her words sound almost pleading, but you’re already shaking your head before she even finishes her sentence.

“I’m sorry,” you say with an apologetic frown, “but you know I can’t. Maybe next year, I promise I’ll think about it. Just… right now isn’t a great time.”

She nods in understanding, quickly changing the topic.

****

You replay Mina’s words in your mind as you walk home.

…his dad is one of the university's main donors, so he's, like, totally rich.

Of course he was rich. It was no wonder you got stuck with him, Professor Kurogiri had probably been pressured by the university’s board to make sure that Shigaraki passed without hassle.

You were furious. Not only did you have to remain with Shigaraki for tutoring - you also had no way out of the arrangement without completely failing your course.

Thoughts of self-pity and anger play on a loop in your mind as you walk home.

You weren’t sure if you’d be able to play pretend for the rest of the semester. Acting as if you didn’t mind his vulgar attitude was difficult on the best of days, never mind the fact that you had already proved that his words got under your skin.

Should I pretend like nothing happened? Should I ignore him whenever he says something rude? Ugh, this is a nightmare.

By the time you get back to your room, you’re too drained to do anything but crawl into bed and bury yourself under the thick duvet.

You wished more than anything that you could just sleep for a few hours, become oblivious to whatever the hell was going on in your life, but you couldn’t.

The hiking club you insisted all your friends join had been fun originally, but now it acted as more of a hindrance than anything else.

But still, you steal the few hours that you can, lightly dozing off a few times before you wake up to the blaring ringtone of your phone.

“Hello,” you mumble blearily, rubbing at your eyes as you check the time on the clock next to your bed.

Oh shit.

“You’re late,” Kirishima states in place of a greeting.

You scramble out of bed, holding your phone between your shoulder and ear as you hurriedly gather your hiking clothes, bumping into the doorframe in your haste. You let out a yelp before answering.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. Where are you? I’m leaving now.”

“Outside,” he says.

A beat of silence passes before he continues.

“Bakugo’s pissed.”

Your heart drops, and you trip on your way out of your room, barely remembering to grab your keys.

The look on his face when you eventually arrive is one of irritation – the furrow of his eyebrows, the slight downturn of his lips.

Yes, Bakugo Katsuki was not happy.

“I am so sorry, I fell asleep and lost track of time,” you say, dumping your bag on the ground as you shove your shoes on and hurriedly tie up the laces.

“Tch, whatever. Let’s just go. We’re losing daylight.”

He turns and leaves, and you’re left with Kirishima, who you throw an apologetic look.

“Sorry,” you offer sheepishly, busying yourself with your bag so that you don’t have to make eye contact.

He just sighs, gesturing for you to lead the way.

The three of you meet up with Sero and Jirou, the latter of whom greets you with an enthusiasm you haven’t seen in a while. It felt good to be happy again, even if it was just for a few hours.

Hours later, when the five of you are settled down and taking a short halftime break before heading back, Sero sits down next to you and bumps your shoulder with his own.

“Hey, so, what are the plans for the end of semester hike?”

His question catches the attention of the rest of the group, and they all look your way.

“Oh, well, actually I’ve already planned it. But since you brought it up, I’ll tell you all now.”

You reach into your bag, grabbing a small travel journal, flipping to the middle of the book.

“So I was thinking we could do a longer hike than the ones we usually do. I'm estimating the route I chose will take four days, maybe longer if we stop to sightsee. Ooh, there’s this really cool waterfall at the halfway mark, I was thinking we could camp out there for a bit. Oh, and! There’s this cave system nearby that’s safe for exploration, so that would be cool to check out too,” you say, looking up at them when you’ve finished.

“What do you guys think? Of course, we’ll have to let the others know too, and I’m still working out some of the other specifics, but that’s the gist of it so far.”

You huff proudly when you finish talking and fix them with an expectant look.

They seem to mull over your words for a bit, thinking it through.

Bakugo is the first to speak, breaking the silence with the same raspy tone he always has.

“So, it’s a long hike, huh? You sure you won’t drop out at the last minute or forget again?”

Kirishima slaps his shoulder lightly, a noise of indignance escaping him on your behalf.

“Come on dude, don’t be like that. You know how it is, you can’t always plan ahead. You can’t hold it against her.”

Bakugo huffs, rolling his eyes slightly.

“All I’m saying is that if you’re having a hard time with something, you need to say so. We can’t read your mind, and honestly, this guessing game is getting old.”

His words make you pause, fighting off the lump in your throat.

Bakugo Katsuki truly had the strangest way of showing that he cared about his friends. If it had been said by anyone else, you would have assumed that he was acting callously, saying what he did to make you mad. But it was Bakugo - honest, harsh, crude Bakugo, who always spoke his mind, no matter how upsetting it may be.

Sometimes his blunt honesty was exactly what you needed, and right at that moment, he seemed to know that.

Not trusting yourself to speak without your voice cracking, you only nod.

Kirishima and Bakugo seem to have a hushed argument for a moment before Bakugo lets out an exaggerated huff of annoyance, standing and making his way towards you, dropping down onto the log with his heavy limbs. Sero jumps up and heads over to where Kirishima sits.

The log rocks slightly with the added weight, and you have to throw your arms out to stabilise yourself.

“Look, I- uh… I’m sorry about that. It came out wrong, I was too harsh. I just- We’re just concerned about you, y’know,” he says, his face turned away from you. You think you might be imagining it, but it almost looks as if his ears are a few shades pinker than they’d been five minutes ago.

“We just- you have to talk if something is bothering you. We can’t help unless we know what the problem is, y’know?”

You sit there, staring at him in shocked silence. Never in all your years did you think you’d see the day that the Bakugo Katsuki admitted that he cared about anyone, least of all about you. You knew he cared about his friends, though he had a strange way of showing it. You knew that he cared about you. But seeing it like this, seeing him admit that they were all concerned about you - it warmed your heart.

You sniffed, lightly tapping his shoulder.

He turns with an odd mix of protests and apologies dripping from his tongue, but quickly falls silent when you hug him. It’s gentle, you’re barely even touching him, but he sits in stunned silence for a few moments before he awkwardly wraps his arms around your waist and pats your back.

You laugh at that, gently squeezing his sides.

“Thanks Bakugo. I just… This whole tutoring thing is more stress than it’s worth, and I don’t know how to deal with it,” you say, pulling away after a moment.

“Sorry that I’m making this your problem too. That’s the last thing that I wanted to do…” you trail off, deep in thought.

You clear your throat before speaking.

“To be honest with you, I haven’t been a great friend to any of you these past few months,” you say evenly, holding up a palm when Sero and Kirishima jump in to interject.

“No, no, listen to me. I’m sorry. I just… I’ve been so consumed with my problems that I haven’t been able to focus on anything else, and that’s not fair to all of you. I promise, from now on, I’ll tell you about my problems. I won’t try to bury them and ignore you to deal with it alone.”

Bakugo huffs besides you, shoulders shaking in silent laughter that steadily rises in volume. He throws his head back with a relieved sigh, throwing his arm around you and dragging you closer to his side.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, now was it. Told you dumbass, she just needed to admit it,” he says to the stunned redhead.

Kirishima ducks his head in embarrassment, mumbling under his breath.

“Now, do you want to tell us what’s wrong?” he says, fixing you with a hard look.

You wet your lips slightly, nodding in mute agreement.

“Yeah. Yeah, I will. It’s just…” you take a deep breath, staring down at the ground, speaking in a rush before you lose your nerve.

“That tutor I told you guys about, the one Professor Kurogiri assigned to me, he was such a creep and he worked so fast I couldn’t keep up, and I tried to tough it out, I really did. I just - I couldn’t. And I tried to speak to the professor, but he basically said tough shit, and that I’d fail if I tried to find a different tutor, and I’m just so tired. I don’t know what to do.”

You let out a shaky gasp when you’re done.

A part of you had thought that you’d feel ashamed admitting that you had to give up, or that you had to ask for help at all, especially from your friends. But now, instead of shame or sadness, you feel relieved.

It felt as though you could breathe easily for the first time in a while, and you regretted not talking to them sooner.

You almost felt bad, to an extent. They were your friends, but you hadn’t trusted them as you should have.

How would you have felt if your roles had been reversed, you wondered?

Jirou slides onto the log next to you, grabbing your hand in hers.

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” she questions.

“I- I didn’t want to worry anyone,” you huff out a short laugh before continuing, “and honestly, I thought I was overreacting in the beginning. I didn’t want you guys to laugh at me.”

At that, Jirou scoffs.

“Please, as if we’d laugh.”

She pauses for a moment.

“Well, Kaminari might, but we’d put him in his place. And anyway, that’s what we’re here for - friends are meant to help you out and listen to your problems. You’re not a burden.”

You laugh lightly, mainly to stop yourself from tearing up.

It felt good to get all your worries off your chest.

Then, a thought hit you.

“Hey Bakugo,” you call.

He hums, pausing his muted conversation with Sero and Kirishima.

“How’d you know about all that anyway? I haven’t really been around lately, so how’d you know I was feeling off?”

The three men exchange glances with one another, holding a silent conversation before coming to an agreement.

“Ah, well, Mina may or may not have mentioned your meet up earlier today. She, um, said you didn’t look great. Asked us to check up on you. And Sero and Kirishima mentioned that you seemed upset since your study session a few weeks ago, so…” he trails off.

At that, you felt a mixture of embarrassment and gratitude. Embarrassment, because your friends were apparently speaking about you behind your back, and gratitude, because they seemed to have done it out of a place of love and concern.

“I, uh, thanks? I guess? I’ll be honest, I don’t actually know how to feel about that.”

Kirishima makes his way over to you, holding his hand out for you. When you accept it, he pulls you up and pats you on the shoulder.

“Well, try not to think about it too much.”

His grin makes you laugh, and you nod along sarcastically.

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

You glance up at the sky and realise with a start that you’d been so lost in conversation that you hadn’t realised the sun had long since set.

“Oh shit, we should probably pack up and leave, huh?”

A chorus of curses and agreements sound out, and the five of you hurriedly pack up your belongings.

“And um, let me know what you think about that hike. You guys never actually said anything,” you say, laughing awkwardly.

They call out reassurances as you make your way back down the mountains, and on the way, the five of you brainstorm ways to get out of your current predicament.

Unsurprisingly, the only worthwhile solution you manage to come up with is to tough it out.

On the brightside, you think to yourself as you watch your four friends talk as they amble ahead of you, at least now I have people to vent to. That should help some, right?

****

Someone was calling your name.

“Please stay back for a moment. I have something to discuss with you,” Professor Aizawa calls to you with a hard look.

Your stomach drops.

Sero throws you a concerned glance, lingering by your side, but you wave him off, turning instead to make your way through the crushing crowd towards the lecturer’s desk.

While Professor Aizawa might have been your favourite professor, he had a certain reputation amongst the students – an infamous hard ass, one with a slightly off-putting air about him. Being called on in class was something most people dreaded, never mind being asked to stay behind – that was as good as a death sentence in his class. Nothing good ever came from it. What you’d done to deserve it, you weren’t sure.

Eventually, you make your way to his desk. Only a few students still linger about.

“Yes Professor, you wanted to see me?” you question, fidgeting about nervously.

“Would you please meet me in my office in fifteen minutes.”

Oh.

Oh no.

It isn’t a request. You swallow thickly, more nervous than you should be considering you’ve done nothing wrong.

You nod in agreement, but internally, your panic is difficult to contain.

Had you failed a test? Did he think you cheated on a test? Had you forgotten about an assignment?

You aren’t given much time to overthink things, your racing thoughts cut off abruptly as you realise you’re stood outside his office. He holds the door open, ushering you in before shutting it behind him.

He gestures towards the seat opposite his desk.

“Sit, please,” he says as he takes his own seat.

You sit, still shaking and panicked.

“Um, Professor, if you don’t mind me asking – have I done something wrong?” you ask shakily.

And then, he laughs.

It sounds nice, but it’s too serious of a sound for him to actually find anything you said funny.

“Ah, Prof–” you start, but he cuts you off.

“No, don’t worry, you’re not in trouble. I just wanted to have a word with you.”

You breathe a sigh of relief, slumping slightly in your seat.

Oh, thank goodness.

You give him a quizzical look once you’ve collected your thoughts, and he takes that as his sign to continue. His eyes still dance with amusement. Embarrassment burns your cheeks.

“I’ve heard you’re being tutored for an engineering class – Mr Shigaraki, if I’m not mistaken?”

Your stomach drops.

“This is about… Shigaraki, sir?” you clarify. He nods.

“Uh, yeah – yes, he’s my tutor, sir.” You feel stiff and awkward.

What is this about?

Aizawa hums in contemplation, moving a few papers around his desk before addressing you again.

“And… how have you found him?”

How have you found him. Not his methods, not his intelligence – him.

“Professor, I’m not sure what exactly you’re asking me,” you answer cautiously, unsure of what to say.

He lets out a noise of frustration, bringing his hand up to his face, massaging the bridge of his nose while he thinks of how to reword his question.

“Has he said or done anything… How do I put this? Off-putting?”

Your fingers flex, gripping at the bottom of your sweater.

Why was he asking you these questions?

“Uh, well… Professor, do you mind me asking why you want to know?”

You cringe slightly but remain resolute. You deserved to know why he was asking such specific questions, especially since the situation had nothing to do with him.

“Hm, no specific reason – call it a hunch.”

Somehow, you don’t believe him. But you don’t push for an answer, instead leaning back and deliberating for a long moment.

If I tell him, maybe he’ll be able to do something? Get me a different tutor, maybe? Or he can talk to Professor Kurogiri?

Or maybe I shouldn’t say anything.

…Is the situation really so bad that I should go running to other professors for help?

No. No it’s not. This whole debacle has gotten out of hand – Shigaraki isn’t that bad. Sure, he makes me uncomfortable, and he says strange things, but maybe that’s just how he is.

Realisation strikes you then, and you feel horror mounting.

Oh my gosh, what if I’m the rude one. He probably thinks I am. Professor Kurogiri did say he struggles with his social skills – what if I’m just making everything worse?

I’ve really blown this whole thing way out of proportion.

The entire time you spiral down into your own thoughts, Professor Aizawa sits opposite you, watching quietly as your expression shifts from one of suspicion, to neutrality, to realisation, to slight horror.

��I’m so sorry Professor, but I have to go,” you say, jumping up from your seat and hurrying to the door.

Aizawa stops you before you can run out, calling out your name.

“I understand you may not want to tell me about it, but just know, I taught Shigaraki for a brief period. I know what he’s like, I’ve seen it first-hand.”

He sighs heavily, getting up to meet you at the door.

“Have you asked Professor Kurogiri for a different tutor? If you haven’t already, I really think you should.”

You stare at him blankly, thinking about his words. You shake your head a moment later, opening the door and slipping past him.

“Thank you, Professor, I appreciate your concern. I have asked Professor Kurogiri for a different tutor, but he said that the situation doesn’t allow for it. But regardless; I’m fine – really, I am.”

You stare at the ground, missing the concerned look Aizawa sends your way.

“I- I think I may have overreacted a bit, and the last thing I want to do is make the situation worse by involving other people – it’s bad enough as is. Besides, even if I was right, it’s just this semester that I have to deal with him. I’m sure I can handle it.”

Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about, Aizawa thinks, still staring down at you.

You bid him goodbye, quickly leaving his office immediately afterwards.

Aizawa stares at the spot you once stood in, lost in thought. Really, how could you convince him that everything was fine when you yourself didn’t believe it?

****

Asking Shigaraki to meet you for another tutoring session felt like sticking needles in your eyes. It had been painful and awkward, and he barely bothered giving one-word answers to your text messages.

But, against all odds, you’d managed to power through the interaction, and he had agreed to meet you for another session, though he’d made it more than clear that it would be your last.

Instead of the usual private study room the two of you would meet in, Shigaraki had asked you to meet in the main library. It had taken you a while to find the small nook he’d tucked himself into, one shoved in the very back of the library where there were no windows and the overhead lights barely managed to lighten the dense darkness, but when you did, you were shocked to see that he was accompanied by another man.

He’s handsome, you think, in a… messy kind of way. His appearance in general was messy, but somehow, it seemed to suit him.

Black, spiky hair complemented his bright blue eyes. His clothes, mirroring Shigaraki’s, were worn and oversized, and his face was adorned with piercings of various kinds. You were also sure you saw tattoos peeking out from behind his hoodie, reaching up his neck and curling around his face, but you weren’t sure.

You shake your head, chiding yourself for staring. After you’ve calmed your racing mind, you clear your throat, catching their attention.

It makes you uncomfortable, their intense focus, and you feel your skin prickle painfully under watchful eyes.

Silence stretches out, and the two men share a look before the black-haired man stands up, scratching the back of his head.

“Well, that’s my cue, I guess. See you around Dusty.”

You try not to let your shock show, especially when Shigaraki only rolls his eyes, not mentioning the offensive nickname.

He passes by you, pausing when he’s right next to you. It wasn’t clear while he was sitting, but he was lanky – he was tall. He leans down, intruding in your space, his gaze dissecting you.

“Hm, so you’re the one who pissed him off, huh?”

He leans back, thankfully, though still too close for comfort.

“So, you gonna apologise or what? Cause let me tell ya, he’s been a real pain in the ass for the past couple of days because of you.”

You stare up at him, wide eyed and confused, mouth hanging open while he stares at you.

“Wha-? Apologise?” you mumble under your breath, confusion twisting your features.

He hovers over you, leaning closer than he should.

“Yeah. Apologise. You were really rude to my buddy, so I have to insist. You should apologise.”

His eyes seem to bore into you, picking you apart, looking at the pieces of yourself that even you don’t like.

You chance a glance at Shigaraki, hoping that he’ll intervene, tell his friend to back off. But when you look at him, he’s already staring at you, watching the interaction between you and his friend with apathetic eyes.

Never mind that you’d already planned on apologising – something about being told to rubbed you the wrong way.

“Fine,” you mumble. “Okay, I- I’ll apologise.”

Swallowing thickly, you bow your head slightly, lowering your eyes to the ground in a gesture of both respect and humiliation.

“Ah, I’m, um, really sorry about what I said Shigaraki. I… I feel I may have overreacted a bit, and it was unfair of me to treat you like that. Please, keep tutoring me?”

It hurt to swallow your pride like that, but you didn’t have much of a choice.

The dark-haired man laughs lowly, patting you on the back.

“See, that wasn’t so difficult, now was it?” he says, finally taking his leave.

“Oh, my name’s Dabi by the way. I have a feeling we’ll be great friends.”

His words leave you feeling sick, and the feeling is made worse when you turn to look at Shigaraki and find that he’s still staring at you, though his eyes hold more of a spark than they had a moment before. Of interest or amusement, you aren’t sure.

“Are you really sorry? You weren’t just saying that because he made you, right?” he asks you suspiciously, as if not wanting himself to become too hopeful.

You release a heavy breath, slowly walking towards him and setting your bag down on the table.

“Yeah, I’m sorry Shigaraki. I thought about it for a bit, and I think I treated you badly. I apologise.”

You don’t mention how he should apologise too, or that he treated you just as badly, if not worse. Instead, you reach into your bag and grab the can laying near the bottom.

“Here,” you say, shoving the neon green can his way.

He blinks up at you like a shocked owl, looking between you and your outstretched hand.

“You got this for… me?” he asks, still staring up at you.

“Yeah, I, um – I saw you drinking it the other day and you never accept anything I give you, so I thought I’d try my luck. If you don’t want it that’s cool too,” you say, withdrawing your hand.

“No,” he says quickly, grabbing your wrist. You suck in a shocked breath, eyes wide and heart pounding.

“No, I want it… Thank you.”

He takes the can but doesn’t let go of your wrist. His hand is cold and dry, and it feels like your skin is on fire wherever he touches you.

“Um, Shigaraki?”

He hums, still staring, still holding your wrist.

“Could you please let go of my hand?”

He starts, dropping your wrist as if it burned him.

“Right, sorry about that,” he says, not meeting your gaze.

He clears his throat, gesturing to the seat next to him.

“Let’s get to work, you’re pretty far behind.”

You sit.

****

Months have passed and the two of you seem to have fallen into something of a comfortable rhythm.

You still can’t stand him, but you hide your feelings well, buttering him up with flowery words and empty admiration. He seems to enjoy it, always leaving your tutoring sessions with a small, satisfied smirk on his face.

As much as you tried to keep your spirits up, internally you were counting down the days until the end of the semester.

Currently, there were three weeks left until your final engineering exam, and that meant that every waking hour not spent studying for other exams was spent with Shigaraki, crammed in a tiny study room for hours on end with nothing but the blue-haired man and your own thoughts for company.

Shigaraki himself had developed a few strange habits over the past few months.

For one, he always arrived before you did, which had never happened before. He also tended to slow his pace if he noticed you struggling to keep up.

You didn’t mention it, intent on getting through the remaining few weeks without stirring up any trouble.

But it bothered you, his change in personality.

He now accepted your gifts, though why you kept bringing them, you weren’t sure. It probably helped that you now knew what he liked, as opposed to guessing randomly as you had been.

Possibly the most jarring change though, was that he’d suddenly dropped all honorifics a month after your tutoring sessions had resumed.

You’d been mid-sentence, busy asking him to specify a question, when he spoke over you.

“So here, question eight, it says that I need to explain the types of models used in software engineering, but it’s only for four marks, so would I list all four models, or would I list only two and explain each?”

You tap your pen against your lips in contemplation, waiting for an answer. After the silence lingers long enough to become awkward, you look up, towards Shigaraki.

“Um, should I repeat the question?” you ask, reaching towards him a moment later. “Shigaraki, are you okay–?”

His hand jumps up, grasping your wrist. His hand is cold today, and smooth too, and his palm is large, entirely encircling your wrist. He’d become comfortable around you, sometimes laying lingering, awkward touches on your back and arms.

“Tomura,” he says, still gripping your wrist too tightly.

“Huh?” you ask dumbly, blinking up at him.

“Call me Tomura from now on. There’s no point bothering with honorifics, it’s so old-fashioned.”

While his tone is disinterested, he turns his face away from you and you’re sure you see a flush of red creep up his neck and over his ears.

To say you’re confused would be an understatement, but you shake your head and clear your throat.

“Okay then. Well, Shiga– Tomura, could you help me with this question?”

“Sure,” he says, leaning in too close once again. You don’t mention it, shoving your feelings of discomfort down, locking them up to deal with at a later date – later, after you’d completed this wretched module.

“To be safe, I’d say list all four models and give a brief description of each. Go ahead, list them off.”

And that was that. From then on, the two of you had been on a first name basis.  

“Here,” you say, handing Shigaraki a bright blue can. “They had a new flavour that I thought you might like to try. I hope you like it.”

He stares at you wide-eyed, reaching out with a hesitant hand to take the can from you.

It confused you. He confused you. He acted all high and mighty, so full of pride before, but now he was all shaking hands and barely concealed blushes. What had happened, you weren’t sure, but you looked forward to the end of your arrangement.

But you did wonder, more often than you’d like to admit, where exactly that harsh, opinionated man from before had gone. He’d been so rude, so full of venom and rage, all aimed at you. Now, he was worse than a teenage boy.

You hoped that when the semester finally ended, you would never have to see or think about this class or Shigaraki ever again.

For now, you could play along, act sweetly, and pretend as if you didn’t mind his company. You didn’t think he was delusional enough to view the two of you as friends, but if that’s what it took to get you through to the end, then so be it.

****

“Our next session won’t be in the library.”

You freeze, pen halting over the page.

“What do you mean?” you ask after a beat, refusing to look at him.

“Aren’t you sick of this place already? I am, and I think a change of scenery would be nice. There’s this bar off-campus that we could go to.”

It isn’t a suggestion.

Shigaraki and his understanding of boundaries have changed over the last few weeks, more rapidly than you could keep track of.

So instead of arguing or sneering at him, or complaining about his complete lack of boundaries, you nod.

“Yeah, sure. That sounds nice,” you lie, though he doesn’t seem to notice or care, sitting back with a satisfied huff.

The bar he mentioned was the closest thing to abandoned you could possibly get. To say it looked run down would be an understatement.

Though when you step inside, against your better judgement, you find that the interior makes up for what the outside lacks.

It’s decadent, all dark stained wood and low lighting. There are a few patrons inside when you arrive, though they’re all tucked away in corners too dark to see in the low light.

You decide to mind your own business, walking intently towards a corner booth, nearly hidden from sight.

A part of you cursed yourself for agreeing to meet him in such an isolated area. Really, anything other than the university library was an isolated location.

But there was no backing out of it now, especially not with him sliding into the booth next to you, caging you in between himself and the wall.

And the look on his face –

Is he… Is he happy?

He must have been.

There was no other explanation, not with his shining eyes, loose, open body language, even the quirk of his lips. Instead of his usual cruel smirk, he sported a soft smile, a gentle lift of the corners of his lips.

If you didn’t know him personally, you might have thought he looked handsome at that moment.

“Hey,” he says, his voice breathless and light.

“Hi,” you reply, looking around while he stares at you. “Um, Tomura, how did you find out about this place? It seems a bit… out of the way.”

You try to put it as delicately as you can, intent on not upsetting him. Saying it looked like something out of a murder mystery or a crime scene didn’t seem like the best way to keep him in a good mood.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, my dad owns this place. Do you like it?”

There’s that look again, that hopeful, childlike look. You feel as though someone had dropped a weight in your stomach.

You felt uneasy, though you couldn’t place exactly why that was. He hadn’t said or done anything to warrant that kind of reaction. You chaste yourself, smiling at him as you respond.

“Yeah, um, it’s great. The inside is nice.”

“You think so? I like it too, and the outside makes sure that not too many people come inside, so it’s never too busy.”

His words don’t help your anxiety, but you shove it down and pull out a notebook.

“What are you doing?” he questions you.

“I’m getting ready for our study session?” you reply in a tone just as questioning as his own.

“Already?” he says with a disappointed look.

“We just got here, there’s plenty of time for that later. Here, take this, let’s have something to eat first.”

He shoves a menu your way, your protests falling on deaf ears.

“Come on, my treat.”

You hesitate a second longer before allowing your shoulders to slump, holding your hand out to accept the menu from his outstretched hand.

While you browse over the options, Shigaraki leans back in the booth, stretching his arms out so that they lay along the top of the seat while he surveys the area beyond the booth.

It makes you uneasy, the way he has you all but trapped next to him.

But you play it off, pretending to be focused on the menu instead.

A waiter comes around a few minutes later, taking your order with a bright smile. His smile seems forced when he looks at Shigaraki, his body language tense and nervous. You think it must be because Shigaraki’s father owns the bar.

You wonder, not for the first time, if this was how he was always treated by people who knew his father. Did they all look at him with fear? Surely some people had to admire him, or at least hold an amount of respect or even envy?

Perhaps that’s why he acted as he did. No one treated him normally, so maybe his sense of self-worth was what made him so insufferable.

A small part of you felt bad for him. It couldn’t have been easy having everyone handle you in such a careful, calculated manner.

Shigaraki pulls you out of your thoughts, nodding towards the menu.

“See anything you like?”

You shake your head, glancing back at the menu before choosing one of the more generic options on the list before setting it aside.

Hands folded on the tabletop; you try not to look him in the eye as silence fills the small gap between the two of you.

“You, uh- you look nice. That colour suits you,” he says to you, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

That makes you pause for a moment.

Now that you’re actually looking at him, you see he’s wearing an ironed long sleeve shirt and what appears to be a new pair of jeans. Not to mention, his hair looked fluffy, like a cloud, and his skin was pale and clear.

Your stomach drops.

Does… Does he think this is a date?

No, you laugh internally.

No, there’s no way. There’s no way. He probably has a date after this. Or maybe it’s not a date at all, maybe he just wanted to dress up, right?

You placate yourself with nonsensical excuses, forcing a smile as you thank him.

“Thanks Tomura, you look great too.”

He seems to take your compliment to heart, puffing his chest out slightly, straightening his posture and jutting his chin out. The change is barely noticeable, but he seems to have a different air about him, one of a more self-assured confidence.

As soon as he opens his mouth to speak, the waiter reappears to take your order.

While you’re thankful for the interruption, gladly calling for his attention, Shigaraki clearly doesn’t feel the same.

The look he gives the poor boy is venomous, and he scurries away as soon as he can.

“Could we get to the work now? I have a few questions from out last session,” you say to him, bringing your notes out once again.

He huffs in annoyance, grabbing the notes and your bag, to place them next to him – just outside the booth, and completely out of your reach.

“Relax, why’re you in such a rush? What, do you have plans after this or something?” he pouts, scowling slightly.

You sit there, staring at him. After a deep breath, one in which you try to bury your annoyance as best you can, you speak to him again.

“Tomura,” you say cautiously, “I’m not in a rush, it’s just… well, my final exam is coming up soon, so our time together is very important to me, and I’d like to make the most of it while I can. You understand that, don’t you?”

You felt a bit bad, playing on his feelings like that.

But no one could really blame you, could they? You never said outright that you liked spending time with him because the two of you were friends. Rather, you meant that his time with you as your tutor was important to you. Whether or not he understood it like that wasn’t really your concern. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

He seems to take it exactly how you thought he would, and he leans closer to you as he speaks.

“Yes,” he says, lower than you’d like, almost a purr, “Yes, I understand.”

He pauses, thinking over his words for a moment.

“In that case… Well, let’s not study today. Let’s leave that for next time. Breaks are as important as studying is, so why don’t we take a break today?”

He looks at you expectantly, unaware of your inner panic.

No no no no, that’s not what I meant!

You feel like screaming, but instead you hum and nod, fiddling with your fingers as he relaxes next to you.

Of course your plan backfired.

And you couldn’t correct him now, not without putting him into a terrible mood.

You’d become more accustomed to his moods than you’d like, but in a way, it had acted as your saving grace during these study sessions.

At least now you knew where his limit was, and how far you could push your luck before he got upset. Toeing that line was a stressful affair, but it was something you’d become surprisingly good at.

That was unfortunate.

Hours later, after you had several drinks, dinner, and dessert, all by Shigaraki’s insistences, you were home.

He had walked you right to your dorm, leaving only after you insisted that you would be fine getting to your room by yourself.

You’d taken a long, hot shower after that, numbing your mind and body so that you wouldn’t have to think about anything – not Shigaraki, not his friends, not your professors, Aizawa or Kurogiri, not your friends, not anything.

Crawling into bed, you prepare to pass out as soon as you head hits the pillow.

You realise as you fall asleep that the two of you really didn’t end up studying after all. The thought didn’t shock you as much as it should have.

****

You’d done it.

You’d actually passed your exam.

When it came time to check your results, you had been prepared for disappointment, for the big red F you were so used to seeing on your paper.

But instead, you were greeted with an A+ and a small, satisfied smile from your professor.

Relief had never felt so good.

It was a shame that Shigaraki had to ruin it for you.

Twenty minutes after you’d received your results, Shigaraki had messaged you, asking if you were able to meet him at a nearby café for a bit.

You sent him a slew of texts in response, asking why he wanted to meet so urgently, but your messages were ignored, and against your better judgement, you’d gone to meet up with him.

That led to your current predicament.

While Shigaraki was usually confident in his own kind of way, mean and proud, content to look down upon anyone who got too close, now, he looked like a completely different person. One you weren’t sure you recognised.

He sat in his chair, eyes wide, shocked plastered across his face for the world to see, mouth hanging agape. After you’d spoken, his shoulders and back had hunched over, as if he hoped to shield himself from you.

“What? What do you mean?” he says with heavy, laboured breaths.

“Shigaraki, I –”

“No!” he says, raising his voice to cut you off.

“No, you call me Tomura. Tomura, not Shigaraki.”

His tone is firm, but he’s still shaking, hands now reaching out to you.

“I’m sorry,” you say, taking a measured step back, “but I don’t think that’s appropriate. I– I appreciate your help, I really do, but we’re not…”

You take a deep breath and fix him with a hard look, steeling your nerves. You will yourself not to feel too badly about what you’re about to say. At least you aren’t being too mean about it.

“We’re not friends. You were my tutor, and you’ve done your job. Thank you. But we don’t have to see one another again. So please, stop contacting me.”

He’s shocked. He doesn’t respond to any of your words, still sitting, still staring. He does nothing as you stand, and he does nothing as you leave.

You don’t look back after you leave.

****

“You all packed?”

You nod, distracted, double checking all of your supplies. It was important that you had all of your supplies - you didn’t want to end up having to ask to borrow something belonging to someone else, and you couldn’t exactly go back home or stop by a convenience store to pick up whatever you needed.

“Oh my gosh,” Mina squeals, “I am so excited, I could barely sleep last night. This is going to be so much fun.”

You stand up and stretch.

For the first time in months, you felt as though you could actually breathe. The semester was finally over, and that meant that you never had to look at Shigaraki stupid face or listen to his stupid voice ever again.

A small part of you almost felt bad, but the feeling was easily extinguished when you realised that you would never have to see him or spend any amount of time with him again. The thought filled you with more relief than it should have.

Around you, your friends chatter about, all double checking their own supplies before loading them into the minivan the group of you had rented for the next two weeks.

Originally, you’d planned for a shorter four-day trip, with a group of five or six people, but apparently word had gotten around, and people were eager to come along.

You’d been forced to become selective with who you accepted, and in the end, you ended up with a group of twelve people - double what you had expected.

Of course, Bakugo, Kirishima, Sero, Jirou and Mina had accepted right off the bat, signing up before you’d even told them about the trip.

The others that you’d chosen were people you weren’t as shocked by as you could have been - after all, most of them occasionally joined your group on the smaller hikes you had every week.

Denki, Shinsou, Izuku, Shoto, Tokoyami, and Mirio. Hiking club regulars, when they had the time.

It was a shame that you couldn’t include more people, and it was even more upsetting that there were certain people who couldn’t make it.

You loved all of your friends, but being in such cramped quarters with so many men for as long as you would be - that was bound to get on your nerves. To say that you were thankful that Jirou and Mina had come along would be an understatement.

Rising with a groan, you lug your bag over to Kirishima and Mirio, dropping it down in a pile of other bags for them to organise in the bus.

“Thanks Kiri,” you say with a cheeky grin.

He rolls his eyes and scoffs, “Yeah, yeah, treat me like a slave, why don’t you.”

You pat him on the back and walk over to where Mina stands, conversing with Denki and Shinsou.

“Hey lover boys, how’s it going?” you ask, leaning back as Mina envelopes you in a hug.

Denki splutters and chokes out disagreements, pausing with a flushed face only when you and Mina burst out laughing.

“We are not ‘lover boys’,” Denki mutters under his breath, pouting like an angry child.

“Suure,” you say, throwing him a knowing look.

Shinsou rolls his eyes, though he turns away and leaves soon after that to hide his own laughter.

“I’m serious,” Denki exclaims, running his hand through his hair.

“Woah, calm down, I know.”

You pause, leaning in closer for a moment to whisper to him.

“You’ve got the hots for Jirou, don’t you?”

You didn’t think it was possible, the shade of red his face turned was reminiscent of a fire truck.

He looks everywhere but your face, adamantly avoiding eye contact.

“I-,” he coughs lightly, “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Your brain must be fried from all those tests. Ah, Kirishima looks like he needs help. Well, I’ll be leaving now.”

He runs off in a hurry as you and Mina break down into a fit of giggles, grasping at one another in a sorry attempt to stay standing.

“Hey, what was that about? Kaminari looked all hot and bothered.”

The two of you look up, and your small giggles turn to gasping laughter as you catch sight of Jirou, her brow furrowed in confusion as you and Mina lay breathlessly on the floor.

“N-Nothing! It’s nothing, we’re all good,” you say through spluttered gasps.

She shrugs and walks off, leaving the two of you to dust off.

Your large group departs soon after that, the lot of you piling into the minivan and setting off.

By the time you arrive, the sun is near its peak, and you’re all antsy, eager to get started.

Bakugo, the unspoken leader of your group, claps his hands twice to gain everyone’s attention.

“Okay people let’s get going. I hope you’ve all emptied your bladders, there won’t be any rest stops for a while.”

He pauses, looking around, his gaze stopping pointedly in your direction before you shake your head, and he continues.

“No? No one? Great, let’s go.”

****

It’s dumb. It’s so dumb.

It’s such a stupid, risky idea, but you do it anyway.

Kirishima, Jirou, Denki and Sero come with you, so it’s not that stupid, right?

Right?

Regardless, it’s too late to back out now.

The five of you dump your belongings on the bank next to the lake and shuffle out of your clothing, giggling all the while.

Once you’re all stripped down to your underwear, you sprint to the lake, Kirishima hauling you over his shoulder and running headlong into the now icy water.

You squeal and wriggle in his grip, trying and failing to hold him down beneath the water.

He plays along for a bit, pretending to splutter when he rises for air, before breaking out into a string of laughter with you.

Next to you, Denki splashes at Sero and Jirou, chasing them around as he flails his arms.

Your small group continues on like that for an hour and a half, splashing about, talking about how the year was, your plans for the next few months off, classes you wanted to take next year.

It was nice - peaceful. Exactly why you’d been looking forward to this trip so much.

Granted, Bakugo would probably blow a fuse if he found out that the five of you had snuck off in the dark without letting anyone know, but what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, right?

Besides, this was the final day of your trip, and despite your earlier reservations, everyone - namely Denki - had managed to behave themselves. You felt as though a bit of recklessness had been earned. And it wasn’t as if this was something you did regularly.

“Ah, I’m getting kinda cold. I think I’ll head back now,” you say to the remaining duo.

Sero and Kirishima had long since left, probably back to camp to convince Shinsou to join them in lighting up a joint.

Jirou and Denki called out to you as you waddled out of the water.

“Are you sure?”

“Do you want us to come with you?”

You wave them off as you pull on your shorts.

“I’ll be fine. Camp is like, barely a ten-minute walk away. You guys have fun.”

You finish dressing, crouching down to gather your shoes and bag.

“See you later,” you smile at them, throwing Denki a knowing look as you wave goodbye to the pair, making your way down the narrow, overgrown pathway back towards the campsite.

The sound of splashing and squeals of laughter follow you.

Barely five minutes later, you’re ambling down the path, mindful of the upturned roots while still enjoying the darkened scenery and fresh, crisp air.

While you didn’t go on hikes like this one often, it was something you enjoyed. Just getting away from civilisation for a bit always did wonders for your mind, and it made you appreciate the modern niceties you had back home.

You’re so lost in thought, you don’t hear the quiet snap of a branch next to you, nor do you see the shock of bright hair slowly stalking after you.

A thick tree root almost trips you up, and you stumble slightly before coming to a halt, laughing out loud in slight embarrassment.

“Geez, what a fucking klutz. Thank God no one saw that, they’d never let me live it down,” you mumble to yourself, placing your palm over your racing heart.

You huff out loudly before continuing on.

There’s a sound then, one that’s barely audible. It’s a small puff of air, almost like a scoff or a muffled laugh.

It’s so slight, so quiet, you almost don’t catch it.

But you do.

And stupidly, you turn around.

What did you expect, you think.

Maybe an animal? Maybe Denki or Sero trying to pull a prank? Maybe Jirou, coming to walk back with you despite your earlier protests?

It’s none of those things.

Eyes.

Red eyes.

They seem to glow in the low moonlight.

Your heart jumps, breath catching in your throat for a moment.

The two of you stand there for a moment, neither of you moving, neither of your breathing or even blinking.

Your shock wears off first, and you bolt as soon as he straightens up.

He’s right behind you, descending upon you like the grim reaper.

You run, pushing yourself to go faster, just a bit faster, but it’s not enough. You know it’s not enough. You felt it even before you’d started running.

A pathetic whimper breaks through your panting, and you feel your legs shake. From fear or exertion, you wonder.

You don’t try to weave through the trees, or veer back around to where Denki and Jirou were. Maybe if you’d had a clearer head, you could have come up with a better plan than just run. You didn’t - you couldn’t. You ran and ran and ran, even when it felt as though his outstretched fingertips brushed against the back of your neck, you ignored it and just kept running.

Soon, the campsite is within view, and you can see the slight flicker of the fire Todoroki had made hours earlier. You push yourself, willing your body past its limits, not stopping even when you feel like the relief makes your body sag.

Come on! You think to yourself as you let out a choked sob.

You’re so close, don’t stop, don’t slow down.

You’re a hair's breadth away from the treeline when two arms shoot out from the darkness behind you, one circling your waist, knocking what little air you’d had out of your lungs, the other coming around to cover your mouth. You don’t have any time to draw in a breath, to scream or even process what’s happening.

The cloth over your mouth and nose smells sickly sweet, and you’re too shocked, too out of breath from the sudden chase to think about holding your breath.

Before you lose consciousness, the last thing you see is the outline of several figures sitting around the fire, barely a hundred metres away from your place in the thick forest of trees.

You really wish you’d taken Denki and Jirou up on their offer.

****

The room you wake up in is dark, the collection of computer monitors against the opposite wall acting as the only light source.

It’s bright, and the sharp light hurts your head. You have to shut your eyes for a few moments to rid it of the slow pounding building up behind your eyes.

Your mouth is dry, and your limbs feel heavy. By all means, your condition is cause for panic. But strangely, your emotions feel muted.

The door opens with a silent woosh, and there’s a flood of brighter light from the corridor beyond.

You wince, turning your head away from the light.

It closes soon after that, and you hear slow, measured footsteps make their way closer to you before they stop.

The bed dips slightly, and you want to turn to see who waits behind you. You want to, but you don’t – you can’t. Your mind still feels hazy, unresponsive, but you’re aware enough to realise that you should be scared.

So, you don’t move, and you don’t open your eyes.

You lay there, still, silent, waiting with bated breath for whatever comes next.

There’s a hand on your shoulder, and then some pressure. You’re turning, being forced onto your back.

“Come on, open your eyes. I know you’re awake.”

That dry, raspy voice. It’s familiar in ways you wish you could forget.

You open your eyes.

He smiles.

Everything makes sense now, and the fog over your mind dissipates.

He’s still staring at you. He was always staring at you. Why?

“Shigaraki?” you rasp out, your throat aching.

His smile drops, eyes darkening as he leers at you from above.

“Tomura.”

“Wha-?”

“I hate it when you act like that. Call me Tomura, like you used to.”

You ignore his words, continuing despite the alarm bells blaring in your head.

“Where am I? What happened? I was with Kirishima and the others, and then I got separated, I think. Or maybe I left? I don’t remember.”

He doesn’t say a word, still staring, waiting.

Had he not heard you? You’re about to repeat yourself when he speaks again.

“Say my name. Say my name and I’ll answer your questions.”

“Shiga– Tomura,” you quickly correct yourself, the look on his face turning to one of cold, hard fury with your words.

“Tomura, sorry. Tomura,” you say, taking a deep breath, “please, I– what am I– what are we doing here? Where is ‘here’ anyway? I don’t remember anything and you’re really starting to freak me out.”

He calms down after you correct yourself, though only slightly. He shifts in place, fixing you with a look as he answers.

“What does that matter? You’re fine, so stop asking all these pointless questions.”

It felt as though you’d travelled back in time, back to when you’d first met him.

His attitude, his words, and mannerisms, they were all the exact same as they’d been originally, back when you’d openly admitted you couldn’t stand him.

Truthfully, you’d felt off from the moment you’d made eye contact with Shigaraki, a feeling of subtle fear boiling away in your gut, growing stronger with every passing moment. You tried to control your panic, but it was becoming difficult to hide it, and it was clear that Shigaraki saw it too, if the sour expression on his face was anything to go by.

“Where are my friends?” you ask, your voice surprisingly steady considering your mental state.

“They’re probably back at the university by now, I guess.”

He brushes off your question, shifting closer towards you with a strange look in his eyes.

“You… You didn’t mean all that, right? What you said before, I mean, about us not being friends and all that.”

His gaze is intense, but you feel yourself growing angry with his words.

“Is that what this is about? You got me alone to ask about that? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You roll your eyes, knocking his hand away from your shoulder, sitting up and shuffling further away from him.

“Listen, I don’t know what’s going through your head, but I meant what I said, and this is exactly why. You clearly don’t understand boundaries, and you throw the worst temper tantrums when you don’t get your way,” you say, raising your voice to cut him off when he opens his mouth with an indignant look to interject.

“No, you need to listen, I’m serious. This is weird - you’re weird. You need help – this isn’t normal. We’re not friends, and we never were. You were my tutor, and now you’re not. You have no reason to contact me, and frankly, I wouldn’t want to talk to you either way. I mean, I don’t think we’d be very good friends anyway, but that’s beside the point. And this? This is just too far. What kind of creep basically kidnaps someone just to talk to them?”

You finish your rant with a huff, breathing heavily. You nearly felt bad about getting so worked up, but he truly had freaked you out. You meant what you’d said about his lack of understanding when it came to your boundaries.

He sits unmoving before you, hands curled into tight fists on his lap.

“Say something,” you demand after a few moments.

He says nothing, still staring down at his lap. You reach for him, your hand grabbing his shoulder in a firm grip.

“Hey, say somethin–”

Smack!

You’re not facing him anymore. You’re not even upright. You lay sprawled across the bed, cheek burning painfully where he’d struck you.

He descends on you, flipping you onto your back and pinning you down when you begin thrashing around.

You whimper slightly, especially when you catch a glimpse of the cold fury on his face.

“You’re such a goddamn bitch,” he hisses, hunched over you with his face so close to your own that you can see each of his individual eyelashes, the small mole next to his mouth, the slight furrow of his eyebrows.

“Always whining and bitching and moaning. Fuck, I should’ve smacked the shit out of you earlier. Not so mouthy now, are you?” he says, grabbing your jaw and shaking your head from side to side.

“Let me go,” you say.

It sounds pathetic, even to your own ears, and he laughs cruelly in your face, lightly slapping your cheek as he coos down at you.

“Aw, are you not having fun? Are you scared? What a shame.”

He straightens up, cocking his head to the side.

“I’m too nice, considering how you’ve treated me. Here I am, planning to make you feel good, to make you happy, despite your bad attitude. You really should act more grateful.”

“What are you talking about?” you question, still filled with enough burning anger that you can ignore your fear.

“Huh? Well...” he trails off, running his hand over your chest, gently squeezing at your chest, “I think I’m owed this - after all, I’ve done so much for you. Don’t worry, it’ll feel good.”

He pauses, squeezing your waist tightly.

“To be completely honest with you,” he laughs breathlessly, “God, this is so embarrassing - fuck, I’ve thought about this since the first moment we met. You looked so cute, staring up at me with those eyes.”

He groans deeply, shutting his eyes for a moment.

“Ah fuck, you have no idea what you do to me, do you?”

You flinch back, curling away from him in disgust.

“There’s no way in hell I’ll let you touch me. You’re such a goddamn pervert - get off,” you say, thrashing around.

He keeps you pinned in place easily, and you might have been embarrassed, had the situation been different.

“Hey, stop moving so much. And don’t call me a pervert.”

You ignore him, bucking your hips to try and throw his body off of your own. It doesn’t work, and he stares at you in annoyance, huffing after a few minutes.

He grabs your shoulders and pushes them down. It’s painful and he knows it, sneering when your eyes scrunch up to stop the tears.

“Stop moving or I’ll tie you down,” he spits at you, and you flinch back as if he spews venom.

“I tried to do this the nice way, but you’ve been such a bitch about it,” he rants on, ignoring how you try to melt into the bed below.

“I was nice to you, wasn’t I? I smiled at you and talked all sweet. Hell, I even took you on a date. But no, nothing’s good enough for you.”

He pauses, shifting on top of you. Surprisingly, despite his seemingly slight frame, his weight is crushing, and you can barely breath as he lays on top of you.

“Well, I’m done being nice. Dabi and Hawks, my father, they were right – if I want something, I should take it. I’m going to take what I want, and you’re going to lay there and take it,” he tells you, his hand sliding down between your bodies to paw at your clothed cunt.

It was as if a fire had lit under you, and you renew your struggles once more, writhing and kicking beneath him, trying to buck him off of you.

You fail miserably, of course, only serving to upset him even more than you already had. He makes his anger clear, fitting his hand around the column of your neck, pining you in place so roughly that you can hardly draw in a breath.

He watches with an apathetic eye as you splutter and gasp beneath his grip, nails cutting into his skin harshly.

A thin trail of blood drips down the side of his hand and onto the pristine white bed sheets, and he watches with flat interest as his own blood stains it.

He grows tired of your struggles soon after that, moving his hand towards your jaw and dragging you forward to force your lips against his. It hurts, his teeth clashing against yours, drawing blood when he sinks his teeth into your bottom lip.

You whimper pathetically, still trying to pull away.

He pulls away only when the lack of oxygen forces him to, and he watches, panting, with a heavy-lidded gaze as you gasp for air.

“Please,” you whisper, one last attempt to get him to empathise with you.

“Please, don’t do this.”

He seems to think it over for a moment, but his contemplative look soon turns wicked, a nasty grin splitting his face, one like you’ve never seen before.

“I’ll do whatever I want.”

That seals your fate.

He lifts off of you slightly, only enough to rip your shirt down, stretching the material so that it lay scrunched up beneath your bra. He palms your tits through the fabric, roughly kneading them like stress balls.

Throughout that time, he had the same strange look on his face, one of intense focus. His brow furrowed slightly, and his mouth hung open as he stared down at your chest.

You lay there, stock still, breathing heavily. Despite your previously iron will, tears were quickly gathering in the corners of your eyes, and you couldn’t bring yourself to care enough to blink them away, so you let them stream silently down your temples.

Shigaraki looks up at you then and gives you what he must believe to be a reassuring smile.

It makes your stomach turn.

“Don’t worry. You’ll enjoy this too. I’ll–” he draws in a sharp breath, “I’ll try to be gentle.”

You’ll enjoy this too.

…enjoy this?

He’s delusional, you think, he has to be.

Surely there was no other explanation. There was no way he thought you’d actually enjoy what he was about to do to you. And his reassurance that he’d try to be gentle only made your panic that much worse.

But you know, deep down, that there was no getting out of this. Not when he had such a focused aura about him, and definitely not when you saw how violent he could become when you fought back. Or rather when you tried to.

So, mentally, you resigned yourself to your fate.

I’ll let him do what he wants. He’ll get it out of his system, and I’ll get to leave once he’s done. Just get it over and done with. Suck it up for a bit and deal with this later.

Your self-reassurance does little to comfort you, but you continue to lay there, silent and unmoving as Shigaraki moves to strip you of your shirt and bra.

“God, you have no idea how long I’ve waited for this. You’re so perfect, and you’re all mine.”

His words are possessive, mirroring his hands as they map the expanse of exposed skin, running up and down your sides. His palms, as usual, are smooth and cold, and they cover your skin with goosebumps wherever he touches you.

“Mine. Mine, mine, mine,” he mumbles under his breath as he takes your breasts into his large palms, breathing heavily. His pupils are blown wide, and he lets out a low moan when he squeezes your bare breasts, watching as your nipples harden in the cool air.

He leans forward, somewhat hesitantly, before prodding it with his tongue. His eyes jump to your face for a reaction, though you disappoint him when all he gets in return is a teary, fearful look.

Humming, he gently kisses your nipple before sucking it into his mouth.

The groan he lets out is pornographic, and it makes you wiggle in discomfort beneath him.

He seems to take that as a sign that you’re enjoying it, becoming more confident in his movements. His right hand moves to fondle your other breast, and you think that he must have never touched a woman before - not with the way he gropes your chest so painfully, as if he hopes to pin you down and tear you apart.

Eventually, after he’s had his fill of pawing at your chest, he pulls away, chin slick with his own saliva, breathing heavily and pupils blown wide.

“I can’t wait anymore.”

You say nothing, turning your head to the side and screwing your eyes shut.

He pays your misery no mind, shuffling down your body to strip you of your remaining clothing.

Once you’re completely bare, he takes a moment, one longer than you’d like, to appreciate the sight of you, naked and vulnerable beneath him.

He touches you, just once, his hands ghosting over your waist as he draws in a quick, sharp, staggered breath.

“I can’t believe you’re all mine,” he whispers to himself.

“I love you,” he says to you, his eyes filled with a sick, twisted adoration.

He wastes no more time after that, hurriedly ridding himself of his own clothing.

Once he’s bare above you, he grasps his cock in his hand, gently pumping the shaft while he stares at you, brows furrowed in pleasure.

You try your hardest not to look at him, at his cock, but his other hand shoots up to grab at your jaw, fingers digging painfully into skin and bone.

“Look at me.”

You do.

You avoid his face, instead staring directly at his chest.

He’s muscular, and so very pale. It almost looks as if he glows in the low light of the room.

The panes of his chest and stomach show exactly how strong he is. It was no wonder he hadn’t had a problem manhandling you. Muscles rippled under his skin, abs tensing with every slow pump of his cock.

He angles your face downwards so that you have no choice but to stare down at his obvious erection.

If you weren’t terrified before, you definitely were now.

He was massive.

Breaking your streak of silence, your eyes shoot up to meet with his as you plead with him.

“Please, that– you’ll never fit.”

Your face burns with embarrassment and you want nothing more than to turn away and bury your face in your hands.

But you don’t.

You can’t.

While you feel yourself cringe back at the words, they seem to amuse him. His eyes lighten and crinkle slightly at the corners, lips quirking at the corners.

“Don’t worry. It will.”

He pulls you towards himself by your hips, his large hands caressing your smooth skin.

“I’ll make it.”

His thumbs trace small circles on your hips.

Was he trying to comfort you, you wondered?

“No one else I’ve been with was as perfect as you are. None of them,” he tells you softly, his tone passionate and hard.

His words shock you. Both his demeanour and his attitude had made you think that he was a virgin. You would never have imagined that someone more… experienced would hold such a clumsy, carnal desire in their movements.

“I’ll be that for you, too. After I’m done with you, you won’t remember anyone else. Just me. Only me.”

Do I tell him? No… No, it’ll only make his ego worse.

You scoff lightly instead, covering up your fear with silent false confidence.

“Sure. If you say so.”

His gaze hardens and he digs his fingers into your hips, flexing them slightly before swiping them across your pelvis. His movements are slow and calculated, going back and forth, lower, and lower with each swipe, before he reaches your core.

Though his fingers barely brush over your clit, your hips jump forward, a knee jerk reaction to him touching the one part of yourself that you’d never let anyone else see or touch.

He laughs under his breath, watching your face intently.

“So sensitive,” he murmurs, now rubbing slow circles onto the bud.

Your hands fly up to your face, slapping over your mouth to stop the moan you nearly let loose. It comes out sounding strangled and whiny, barely audible at all.

He pulls his hand away abruptly, straightening up.

“Don’t. Don’t do that. I want to hear you.”

You shake your head from side to side, hands still clasped tightly over your mouth.

“Fine,” he sighs, “then I’ll do this the hard way.”

You would never have thought that Shigaraki would be the type to willingly pleasure anyone but himself, but as he lowers himself between your legs, softly nipping at the flesh of your thighs, you think that you might not know him as well as you believed.

Then again, you never thought that he’d be capable of something like this – kidnapping you, being so violent, assaulting you.

His breath is hot against your naked cunt, and heavy as he stares at the juncture between your legs with rapt attention. He shifts your thighs so that they lay over his shoulders, his palms sliding beneath your ass to prop you up slightly.

You want to beg him to stop. You want to scream and cry and hit him upside the head. But you never get the chance.

He descends, his tongue hot and wet where it meets your slit.

Your eyes scrunch up when he moans into your cunt, mumbling about how good you taste.

It seemed as though the taste of you had set something off within him, and he plunged back down to lose himself between your legs.

Despite how violated you felt, his earlier ministrations had gotten you all worked up and sensitive, and you had trouble staying still while he had his way with you.

He alternated between long swipes against your slit and short, harsh nips at your clit. A part of you felt as if he was doing it to punish you for your so-called ‘wrongdoings’, though you told yourself that that was probably just how he acted.

The grip he has on your hips loosens for a moment before he hauls you closer towards him, sliding one of his hands down to join his mouth between your legs.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect. So, so perfect,” he mumbles against your cunt, gently working a long, slender finger into your dripping cunt.

By now your moans are undisguisable, especially when they echo out in the room. They’re the only audible noise besides the slurping sounds Shigaraki lets out and his own groans and mumbles against the wet smack of your cunt.

When he adds a second and then a third finger, you nearly cry.

Out of pain or pleasure, you aren’t sure. Maybe panic.

He chuckles at your moaned garbles, cooing at you from his place between your legs.

“Yeah, that’s it. Come on, come on.”

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, taking you completely off guard. You hadn’t felt anywhere near ready, and it steals the air from your lungs, leaving you a shaking, gasping mess beneath him.

He leaves his place between your legs with one last loving kiss to your clit, laughing when you twitch.

“See, you enjoyed that, didn’t you?”

You ignore his question, trying instead to calm your rapid breathing.

His hand, still covered in a disgusting mixture of your slick and his saliva, pumps up and down his cock.

It’s as pale as the rest of him, and his cockhead had turned a strange shade of red, so dark it almost looked purple.

He catches you staring, snorting at your terrified expression.

“Don’t look so worried,” he says, grasping your thighs, easily widening them so that he could sit comfortably.

“I’ll go slow. Promise.”

With that, he guides his tip towards your entrance, pressing softly into you.

Your eyes bulge slightly as your panic comes to a peak.

“No! Please don’t do this. Please!”

You had reached for his hand while you begged him, but he grabbed your hand as soon as you got near him, crushing it in his grip, ignoring the pained yelp you let out.

He huffs out, nostrils flaring in anger.

“How many times do I have to tell you; this is happening whether you want it to or not. So stop struggling,” he says, pushing your shoulders to get you to lay back down.

“Please, you don’t understand, I’m- I-”

You pause, breathing laboured and strained.

The two of you sit in complete silence, Shigaraki staring at you while stare at the wall opposite the bed. The last thing you wanted was to make eye contact now of all times.

His fingertips find your chin, gently prying your gaze away from the wall and back to his face.

“Are you a virgin?” he asks, so, so quietly, as if it was a curse word.

You nod silently, hesitantly.

A part of you hoped that he’d decide not to go through with it. It was a stupid hope, one that you hadn’t put too much faith in. But that small kernel of hope was still there all the same.

So it stung when, instead of climbing off of you, his face widened into the most vile grin you’ve ever seen.

A choked sob tears its way out of your throat as he leans forward again.

“Really? That’s… I- See? I knew you didn’t mean it,” he stutters as he caresses your face.

“You saved yourself for me. Me. I- Thank you. I won’t disappoint you; I promise. I’ll be your first and last.”

His delusion made you sick, and if you could, you would have gouged his eyes out.

But you’re given no more time to linger on his words as he begins pushing his hips forward.

He was true to his word, at least - going as slowly as he could. He really was trying not to hurt you.

Too bad it wasn’t working.

He pushed in as far as he could before meeting resistance. He tried to get you to loosen up, to relax, he really did.

But he was no saint, and he only had so much patience.

His palm covered the side of your face, thumb rubbing calming circles over your cheek as you cried out, trying to soothe you as he pummelled his cock through your walls.

Soon, you feel the head of his cock nudge at your cervix.

You’re relieved - he’s done, right? He’s touched - violated - every part of you that he could reach. He was done, he had to be.

Except he was still pushing forward, into you, through you.

You let out a strangled cry, blubbering, begging him to stop.

And he does.

He’s panting, all but gasping for breath as he hunches over you, shoulders shaking slightly.

“I’m - oh fuck -  I’m going to move now,” he says, voice strained.

The only response you give is a whimper.

It hurts.

It hurts, until it doesn’t. Until the painful throbbing, the uncomfortable stretch, turns into waves of pleasure, short zings of ecstasy that start from where your bodies meet.

The sounds that fill the room are filthy, and the atmosphere is stifling.

A harsh pap pap pap sound coming from between your bodies, Shigaraki’s groans - his whimpers, your own whiny moans; they all mesh together, drowning out your thoughts.

Shigaraki pauses for a moment, and you think for a split second that he may have been done with you, but then he’s lifting your legs, throwing them over his shoulders, pushing down, into you, and-

“Fuuck.”

The two of you moan in unison.

Shigaraki glances down and lets out a soft exclamation of surprise.

You glance down too.

He starts up slowly again, locking your head into place with his arms, making you watch the small bump from underneath your stomach move with each thrust.

Is that…?

It is.

The imprint of his dick, visible through your stomach.

You whimper again, but somehow, it's not as pained of a sound as you had expected.

His hand slides between your bodies, coming to rest lightly over the bump, feeling himself through you.

“Holy shit, that’s so hot - here.”

He grabs one of your hands, bringing it down, making you feel his cock as it moves inside you.

Your mouth drops open, but his hand leaves yours there, moving lower and lower, until he reaches your clit.

“Come on, cum for me pretty girl,” he mumbles to you, sweat now dripping down his face.

Your eyes roll back as he rubs steady, harsh circles onto your clit. Your hand remains where he left it, feeling the slight jab of his cock with every thrust.

It doesn’t take him long after that, he has you cumming on his cock in minutes.

You hope that he’s done - he must have cum too, right? You hadn’t felt anything, but he must be done now.

He leans back, but pushes your legs down further, pinning them next to your head so that you’re completely folded in half.

“Now it’s my turn,” he says, biting his lip as he stares at you with a heavy-lidded gaze.

You’d thought his pace was harsh before, but that was nothing compared to the way he brutally pounded into you now.

Grasping the sheets next to your head to ground yourself, you feel your body slide up and down the bed, hear the headboard slam against the wall with each thrust.

By now you’re gasping for breath - it feels like his cock is in your lungs, and a glance down shows that his pubes - light blue and curly - are soaked in a mixture of cum and other liquids, both yours and his.

Not only that, but his cock, the massive cock you’d been so terrified of earlier, was completely buried inside of you, to the very hilt, his balls slapping against your ass with every thrust.

He hits a spot deep inside you, one that has you seeing stars, and you throw your head back with a moan as he abuses that sensitive spot.

You should ask him to slow down - you should demand that he stops all together, but you can barely string together a coherent sentence.

Thankfully, he seems to be reaching his own end, massaging your clit as he mumbles to himself.

“...with me - you have to cum with me. Cum. Come on, do it.”

You do.

Your exhausted body wrings out yet another orgasm, twitching pathetically as his hips stutter and you feel warmth flood your insides.

He flops down on top of you, smothering you under his weight. He lays like that for a while, panting, shoving his face into the crook of your neck as his breathing evens out and his cock softens inside of you.

Eventually, when the heat becomes almost unbearable, he rolls off of you, his cock pulling out of you with a nasty plop sound.

You feel empty.

Empty and cold.

He’s still laying there, eyes on the ceiling.

You sit up and shuffle to the end of the bed, still in a daze.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” he asks, propping himself up on one arm to watch you.

“I’m going home,” you mumble, looking around the room. “Where are my clothes?”

He snickers at that, sitting up straight to watch you flit around the room, picking up your discarded clothing, putting items on as you find them.

Underwear, check. Bra, check. Shorts, check.

“You think you’re going home? Don’t be ridiculous.”

You freeze, not turning to face him, shirt still clutched tightly in your hands.

Clearing your throat, you ask him, “W- What do you mean?”

“What do you mean ‘what do I mean’?"

He moves, coming to sit at the edge of the bed.

“Do you really think I went through all that trouble for a quick fuck?”

It’s a rhetorical question, you know it is, but-

“I’m not staying here. I want to go home. Now.”

“No,” he says, finally standing and approaching you.

“I’m not asking. I’m leaving. You got what you wanted, so there’s no reason for me to stay.”

He scoffs, glaring at you.

“‘Got what I wanted?’ Don’t play dumb, you know exactly what I want. Like I said, one quick fuck does nothing for me - I went through all that effort to get your attention, then even more to get you - you’re not going anywhere. You’re staying right here, with me.”

You don’t bother trying to put your shirt on, instead running straight for the door.

He curses as he stops to throw on a pair of shorts, trying to catch up to you as you sprint down corridor after corridor in search of an exit.

This time, you had a good head start against him, so you made it further than you had in the forest.

But of course, nothing ever went your way.

You run down several flights of stairs, coming out in what appears to be a large living room, several massive couches filling the space.

Couches and people.

No, not people - his friends.

You don’t pause though, still sprinting through the space.

Shigaraki yells out and you’re stopped abruptly in your tracks.

Standing in front of you with that stupid fucking smirk is Dabi.

“Man, you’ve got to learn to train your pets. They’ll keep running away if you don’t.”

That smug motherfucker.

“Nice tits babe.”

Your arms fly up to cover your chest as Shigaraki runs up behind you, panting and out of breath, clothed only in a dark pair of boxer briefs - blue and decorated with cartoon dinosaurs.

His hair is a mess, and his face is all red and sweaty. But besides that, he looks pissed.

The grip he has on your forearm is painful.

“Mind your own business,” he hisses at Dabi.

He holds his hands up in mock surrender.

“Woah woah woah, just trying to help - isn’t that right guys?”

The group of people seated on the couches all look away, not making eye contact with anyone in the small group. You don’t recognise any of them.

“Fuck off. And you,” he addresses you, a crazed look in his eyes.

“You’re fucking dead.”

He drags you back to his room.

No one comes to help you.

****

You sit with Shigaraki, watching the news on the huge TV in his lounge.

“Police and locals alike are searching for a young woman reported missing several months ago after a university hiking trip near Mount Natagumo.”

There’s a picture now, one of you and your friends, taken on the day you left for your trip.

It’s grainy and some people are blurry, but you’re all smiling widely, and you’re circled with a bright red line.

“The young woman in question was last seen on the 24th of July at around 2 a.m. Japanese Standard Time, in the Okurama region of the area, about 200 kilometres south of Mount Fujikasane, on the border of Mount Natagumo, according to the Okurama local police. Her sudden disappearance has shocked many of the local residents, many of whom -”

The screen goes black.

Your ears ring in the silence and you try your best to school your features, keeping your face neutral.

“Damn it, why won’t they just drop it already?” Shigaraki mutters next to you, running his hand through his hair in frustration.

He lets out a deep groan, throwing his arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer to his side before shoving his face into the crook of your neck. He inhales loudly, sighing briefly before he continues.

“You wouldn’t leave me, right? They’re being ridiculous. I really thought they would have given up by now, it’s been months,” he pauses, squinting up at you.

“Ugh, this is so annoying. If this goes on for any longer, I’ll have to ask my father to take care of it.”

You’re still stiff next to him. You should answer him soon, you know, but you can’t bring yourself to muster up the energy, or to think of the words he wants to hear. You can’t even lift your hand to pet his hair.

Placating him was exhausting, but you’d done a good enough job over the past few months.

Today though - today you were just so tired.

“Don’t worry,” he says, sitting up straight and pulling you into his lap. “They won’t find you. I’ll make sure they don’t.”

“They might.”

He stops.

“What?”

“They might find me. I hope they do.”

He pushes your hair to the side, covering your neck with soft, wet kisses as he laughs breathlessly.

“You won’t leave me,” he mumbles against your neck.

You’ve stopped wondering about if he thinks that makes you feel better.

He said it to get a rise out of you, and he sighs in annoyance when you remain tense and still in his lap. His hands grip at your waist, fingers flexing every few moments.

“Even if they find out it was me, you won’t leave this place. You won’t leave my side. Never.”

His hold on your waist remains steady as he stands up.

“Well, come on. That ruined my mood, why don’t you make it up to me?”

He’s not asking.

The two of you walk to his room - Shigaraki Tomura chattering all the while, you, holding back tears.

You’re so tired.

You won’t leave my side.

Never.

That sounded more accurate than you’d like.

[after-witch]

"Shigiraki, I think I left the oven on back at my apartment can you go turn it off for me?"

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, written on my phone I hope the formatting doesn't suck, requests are closed this is from when I opened them

--

He stares at you, blinking, expression bored and dull. It makes you feel dumb.

"Do you actuallly think I'm that stupid?" He asks, after a while. It's one of the first questions he's asked you that hasn't been hissed in your ear or murmured against your skin. And for that, you feel compelled to actually answer.

"... No," you reply, shrugging, letting your shoulders sag in defeat. "But I thought maybe you'd feel bad for me and go anyway, and then..." You let your words trail off, and you gnaw your lower lip, tugging at the dry skin slowly with your teeth.

"And then...?" He echoes your words, looking at you curiously.

"There's some things," you say, feeling bolder. "At my apartment. Personal things. That I'd like...if you could get them?"

He doesn't say no, which spurs you on.

"Like, my music player. It's old-fashioned, but it keeps me calm sometimes. And my stuffed animals." You glance at him, looking apologetic. "Well, at least my brown bear--that's Mr. Bear--and lamb." You glance again. "Lamby, that's her name. She plays music." You sigh, a soft rattle from a cold you can't quite shake. "And um, maybe my--"

He puts his hand up, and you immediately press your lips together.

"Sorry," you mumble. "I didn't mean to--"

"I'll have Kurogiri make a list." It's almost grumbled out, and for a moment--just a moment--your captor, Tomura Shigaraki--looks a little vulnerable. "You can have all your stuffed animals, if you want. I don't care." He shakes his head and rolls his eyes.

"Just... don't expect me to keep them all on the bed. This is my room. You're just living in it."

Your smile isn't forced, though your chapped lips ache with it. For now, if it comes with the prize of some of your favorite belongings, you can live with that.