#anyways i've been drinking feel free to ignore me if my posts don't make sense

[bpdamandayoung]

y'know what i literally thought i was a corpse but still living and i was recommended by a lovely doctor of psychology to go to a hospital to get the treatment i need but i fucking didn't bc i though a degree in environmental protection is more important than my health - i'm literally repeating the pattern i suffered so much for

[palbabor-writes]

OK so please consider typical Shig/reader where theres unspoken mutual attraction and they're not quite together but it's Post-kamino Shig, like IMMEDIATE post-kamino where he's still processing and incredibly vulnerable from just losing his sensei. I've had this in my head for a while but IDK how it would go and I think you'd do it justice (just ignore this if u don't wanna i just needed to put it out there 😌)

ugh, i loved this idea. where do you find them lydia? they just live in your mind rent free and i want to go to there. gosh, thank you for the ask.

Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Adult language, SMUT, NSFW/18+ only, mild angst, pivotal life moments, TW: drinking/drug use, masturbation, blow jobs, face fucking, spanking/mild pain play, vaginal fingering, cunniliginus, overstimulation, switching, dirty talk, loss of virginity (if you squint), dominance, vaginal sex     

Word Count: 11,800

Notes: oh man. so, if the word count didn’t give it away, this is plot, with a hefty dose of porn. in my mind, this is all part of the grieving process for shigaraki and he’s having a rough time coming to terms with what he’s needing to do. yeah, AFO supported him and enabled him to build a following, but he also hid all of the major pieces from him (i.e. the doctor & gigantomachia) so i can see him mourning for AFO as a teacher & as a psudo loved one, after all, at the end of that chapter he’s clutching those hands to him like he’ll fall apart without them. 

Edited by the lovely Lydia: @kugutsuu. she is the best and if you’re not reading her works, all I have to say is: YOU SHOULD BE. 

Mise en Place

/mē-ˌzäⁿ-ˈpläs/ noun or verb  a French culinary phrase which means "putting in place" or "everything in its place.”

This has got to be the strangest, hole in the wall, bar you’ve ever worked at. 

The patrons are touchy and most seem downright dangerous. The whole lot of them are more like mid level criminals than the usual haggard, overworked, regular, citizens you find in local watering holes.  Meanwhile, the gentleman who runs the day to day operations shares more similarities with a will o’ the wisp than a man, and the bar itself is smack dab in one of the seediest parts of town. 

The liquor selection, however, is top of the line. Some of the labels you haven’t seen outside of posh hotels or high class country clubs, and many of the older bottles are rarities. Honestly, there are so many of the high brow bottles that you’re not sure who to ask about the rail selection. There’s no real order to the place and it’s the most free reign you’ve ever been given with your mixology experiments. There’s not even a listing of drinks to go off of. But, if the disgruntled evening crowd is happy, then so is the upper management. All they ask is that you lock up before you leave.

No, nothing about this place makes sense. But, it does pay well and, right now, that’s the only thing you need to worry about.

There’s one other barkeep, a stogy man named Akio. He usually works the day shift, but late yesterday afternoon, he’d given you a call and asked if the two of you could swap for the duration of next week. At first, you’d balked, worried you’d need to schmooze with an unfamiliar bunch of regulars, who’d then decline to tip simply because you were new. But, Akio had sweetened the pot with the promise of $20,000 yen, so, you’d agreed. 

“It’s fairly quiet in the afternoon,” Akio reassured you. “It’s really just putting away shipment and serving the odd customer who happens to pass by. The only thing...well, I’m sure you’ve met him. You’ve been working there for over a month, no way you could miss him.” 

“Who?” you ask, twirling your spoon in your mid-morning coffee, curious, but not wanting to seem overly eager in your questioning. You like your night shift and you’re not wanting this to become a regular swap. You detest having to lug heavy boxes to and fro, pulling liquor and checking lot numbers, ick. Plus, if it really is that slow in the afternoons, it would only be a matter of time before Kurogiri would come after you with a duster and ask you to clean the upper shelves. Yeah, no, thanks. This would be a one week deal, ONLY.

“His name is Shigaraki. He’s, er, different. I suppose you’ll meet him soon, if you haven’t already.”

“Shigaraki? No, that name doesn’t ring a bell. Is he--”

“I have to go, my son is here. Thanks again for the swap and talk soon, (Y/N).”

The line clicks and you let your phone fall from your ear, clattering the metal and plastic along your kitchen table. Shigaraki, you think, taking a scalding sip of your coffee, no, that’s not a name you’ve heard before. Wonder what it is about him that has Akio so on edge. It’s not like him to give you, er, whatever that strange heads-up had been. Either way, it would take more than a vague descriptor like different, to spook you off. 

******

Akio was right, on all counts, about the haze of monotony that permeated the afternoon shift at the bar. 

Well, right on everything except a sighting of that elusive Shigaraki guy. No, the whole afternoon it’s just been you, Kurogiri, and one, rather sloshed old man, who you’ve long since cut off, and propped at the far end of the bartop. It’s been a dull, slow, day. Thank God you’d taken that extra cash from Akio, or this might not even turn out to be worth your while. 

You’re slipping another bottle of whiskey on the lower shelf when you hear a barstool scrape back. You turn at the sound, your head already lifted and a small, friendly, smile lingering on your lips. There’s a lanky guy, dressed all in black with a mop of wavy white hair, working himself onto the small seat. His head is lowered and he hasn’t bothered to look up at you, not yet, anyway. He looks, not really young, but you can’t tell and you’re not about to let some underaged kid worm his way in here. You’ve had enough of those punks sneaking in in the evening, thank you. 

“Gimme a shot of scotch,” the man says, his voice low, with a quiet rasp racing along the tone. It’s a strange timbre and it makes you pause, your eyes scanning those pearlescent strands of hair that are hiding his face from view.

“Hmph,” you snort, arching a brow at his attempts at concealment. He must be underage, who comes up to a barkeep with a ducked head and demands a scotch? 

“Let me give you a piece of advice, don’t come into a bar and immediately refuse to make eye contact with the bartender. We’re like animals at the zoo, we startle easily and don’t like surprises. And, with your face tucked like that, I can’t gauge your age. So, before I get you that unnamed and unbranded scotch, I’m gonna to need to see some ID.”

The man lifts his head at your preamble and you feel your breath catch at the raw annoyance that’s etched across his scarred and cracked face. His eyes are a rich red, closer to ruby and they latch onto yours, insistent and sharp. It’s a deeply intense stare and you can’t seem to pull yourself away, your brow furrowing at his sudden shift in demeanor. 

“I don’t have an ID,” he snaps, his lips lifting into a snarl, showing you the vivid whiteness of his teeth. 

You lick your lips and his gaze follows the motion, eyes lowering, freeing you from that uneasy imprisonment he’d abruptly ensnared you in.

Your heart is beating rapidly against your throat and you shake your head, refocusing your bewildering reaction to this guy's presence. “I-I haven’t heard that one before,” you say, taking a few steadying breaths and tossing a dirty glass in the dishwasher, looking for any task that will let you step away from this strange interaction. 

“You must be new,” he says, leaning back and hunching those dark shoulders. You watch him out of the corner of your eye and shut the dishwasher door, hitting the button to run a cycle. 

“Nope,” you correct him, pulling out two fresh glasses and lining them up on the bartop, reaching for the rail scotch. “I’ve worked here for over a month.”

“Never seen you before.”

“That makes two of us,” you reply, flipping the bottle up and filling both glasses with four counts of the dark liquor. You press one to him and lift the other for yourself. The man narrows his eyes at you and looks pointedly at the glass in your hands. 

“You supposed to drink on the clock?”

You laugh and he shifts back at the sound, his head bowing forward, another scowl lifting his lips. Realizing you must have made him uncomfortable, you step toward him and clumsily clink your glass against his, tilting your head at the surrealness of this whole conversation. “They don’t really care what I do. Come on, stranger who has no ID, bottoms up.”

He looks from you to the shot a few times before finally relenting and taking the vessel in a strange four fingered grip, his middle finger arched carefully away. Once you’re sure he’s actually going to toast with you, you sling your shot back, enjoying the sharp burn of the rich liquor. 

You’re about to ask your new drinking companion another question when you hear his chair scrape back. By the time you’re stepping toward him, he’s already pacing down a back hallway, blending into the darkness and disappearing from your sight.

“Um! You can’t...I don’t think you can go back there. And you gotta pay, dude! Hey--”

“He doesn’t need to pay.” 

You always hear Kurogiri before you see him and today is no exception. He’s standing at the entrance to the back of the bartop and he’s watching the path the strange young man took, his shifting face turned from you. You cock your head at his assertion and swiftly place your empty glass into the soapy water of the filled sink. He likely saw you take the shot, but you’re not about to leave evidence behind. 

“What do you mean?” You ask, watching as the wisp like man turns and steps toward you, his amber slits watchful. It’s like he’s sizing you up and you shift on your feet, uncomfortable at the frank, open, assessment.  

“He’s Tomura Shigaraki, and he owns this bar.”

******     

You’re off for the next two days and the wait, the silence, is abjectly harrowing. You can’t sit down, can’t relax, can’t focus. The one time you decide to get overly familiar, of fucking course, it would be with the owner. But no one has called, and no one has sent you any messages. The empty static of your job's reticence doesn’t alleviate your nerves. 

Who knows, they might want to act out the sick power play of having you show up for your shift, only be fired as soon as you darken the doorway.

The next afternoon, you take a familiar route to the bar, your feet tapping hollowly along the steps and alleyways that wind to the rusty entrance. You come in the front, blinking against the darkness, and lock the door behind you. Everything is quiet. But, in forty minutes, the open sign will switch on and you need to get your bar set up, plus slap on a little bit of makeup. You’re so lost in thought that you’re almost to the long bartop when you spot him.

It’s Tomura Shigaraki. He’s sitting at the same bar stool and his head turns as you approach, those unearthly red eyes lingering over you. It’s a different look, very, very removed from that harsh glare he’d given you the other day. He looks less hostile and more, well, curious. 

You give him a cursory nod and pad behind the high counter, taking the final glasses out of the dishwasher and removing the stoppers from all the open liquor bottles. He’s still watching you and you can feel his gaze as it bores into your back, your side, your front. You attempt to ignore him, but the constant threat of those insistent red eyes is beginning to frustrate you. Finally, once you’ve replaced the cash drawer, you lift your gaze to his. 

“What is it?” Your voice sounds waspish, but you don’t care.

“Nothing,” he replies, leaning forward and propping his chin on his palm, not breaking that unsettling leer. 

“So stop staring at me,” you bristle, unsure why your heart is starting to beat a rapid tattoo against your ribs. You don’t know this guy. Sure, he’s mysterious and almost handsome, in a dark horse kinda way, but there’s no reason for him to give you this odd staredown. You’ve done absolutely nothing to warrant this attention, well, besides drinking on the job, but he could just fire you for that, if it was so troublesome. Either way, he should either speak up, or knock it off. 

He smirks at your impudence and murmurs a raspy, “No,” back, his head tilting, waiting for your next move. 

“You’re a real charmer, you know that?” You scoff, crossing your arms and jutting your chin defiantly. 

“Whatever you say,” he breathes, that smile of his deepening, making his vermillion eyes shine. And, just like that, the two of you wander into a stilted game of give and take. 

For the first few days, he makes sure he’s there before you arrive for the last of your afternoon shifts, his dark back already perched over the bartop as you shut the door behind you. Then, when you transition back to the evening shifts, he’s there too, sitting at that familiar perch, his eyes always, always watching, observing. You continue to ignore him and he seems to relish your agitated silence, flashing you dark smirks and quiet laughs.

Finally, two weeks into this stagnated stalemate, you make a point to strike up a real conversation with him. He’s obviously taken aback by your first few questions, his eyes wide and jaw tense, but he plays along. 

Over time, the two of you carefully erect a haphazard friendship. And that chair of his? That center barstool? He used to not mind if another person was sitting in it when he arrived late, but recently that’s all changed. Now he guards it ferociously. Snapping and glaring at anyone who is stupid enough to drift into it. 

Along with the lingering looks and burgeoning, almost flirty, dialogue you’ve pushed him into, he’s also gotten very demanding of your attention. If you spend too much time talking with another customer, or with Kurogiri, he pouts and darkens until you return, his tense form losing that sharpness.  It's almost like he’s got a crush on you, but he’s not sure what to do with the newfound sensation, lost and confounded by your teases and grins. 

Most people, you notice, give him a wide berth, but not you. No, you like his keen wit and heated musings. He’s fascinating and you want to see more. And in his flustered confusion, he lets you lean in, blinking and wide eyed at your open, flagrant interest in him.

******   

As the weeks drift into summer, things start to change at the bar. 

There’s some atypical deposit of power that’s been bestowed upon the place. People you’ve never seen before, begin to frequent the premises, sharing videos and whispered conversations about that man, Chizome Akaguro, better known to the general public as the Hero Killer. 

Tomura flits between several, dark moods, clutching his newly injured shoulder and murmuring complaints about hero society, All Might and the Hero Killer. Apparently, there had been an altercation between the two of them and Tomura didn’t hide his ire, his agitation from you. No, he would vent to you, his voice gravel and ash as he snarled his rage.  

Then, as if things couldn’t get any stranger, one evening a young girl begins to hang around, pestering you for a soda and prattling on and on about blood. Another new guy slips in a few hours later, his skin marred by thick, ragged burns and staples. He’s quiet, rudely demanding a shot and nursing it in a corner, his bright blue eyes flashing as he stares vacantly out at the crowd by the well. 

A quiet man, called Spinner, asks you for a water, and you acquiesce, watching as his green hands wrap around the glass, downing the liquid in a quick gulp. Later, there’s a robust, loud, clearly confused guy, wearing a skin tight black bodysuit loitering by your bartop. He keeps entreating you for a drink, then tells you to buzz off seconds later. Exasperated, you plunk a whole bottle down beside his glass and continue on with your work, ignoring his chatter. 

Finally, a man in a white mask and a top hat rounds out the strange posse and the group gathers together, hovering around Tomura, asking questions and listening to his rasping answers. 

Thankfully, the rag-tag group leaves soon after closing, all of them shouldering their way back out into the night. You shake your head as the door closes behind them, gathering the collection of dirty glasses they left in their wake. Only Tomura remains, sipping meditatively on his drink, his red eyes foggy and unfocused. You know from experience that it’s not a good time to ask him questions, so you continue with your closing duties, keeping your eyes down.

Something is going on, that much is clear. But, unless you could worm the information out of Tomura, you’d likely never fully know all of the details. Part of you warns that it’s likely dangerous. Many of the people who haunt the bar are low level villains or brokers, not a winning combination if you’re wanting to stay out of the fray, and on the right side of the law. 

You finish wiping everything down and return to Tomura, asking him softly if you can wash his empty glass. His eyes lift to yours and the expression that greets you almost makes you want to reach out and cup his cheek. He looks tired, worn thin and so, so needy. You’ve never seen him like this. It almost feels like he’s showing you something he’s never revealed to anyone else, a vulnerability that only you can see. He’s giving you access to a quiet secret that can hang between the two of you, safe in the knowledge that he can trust you with it. That urge to stroke a finger down his roughed brow rises again, but you shove the impulse away, rattled by your sudden, visceral, reaction to him. 

To distract yourself, you snatch up his glass, and turn from the intensity of his stare, a slow prickle of gooseflesh trembling along your skin. As you run hot water and soap over the vessel, you feel your heart begin to pound and you chance another peek at Tomura’s quiet form. As usual, he’s watching you, but he looks unfocused again, that broken vulnerability tucked away. You want to ask him if he’s ok, but before you can croak the words out, he pushes his stool back and paces down the dark hallway, leaving you alone and bewildered. 

******

A few days later, you ask Kurogiri if you can sneak away for a minute, you need a break. The bar has been packed since nine and you could use a quick breather. It’s the first night Tomura hasn’t stopped by and his absence has bothered you. You missed his grumpy quips and his persistent glances. All this time, you’d thought it was just him that was catching any kind of feelings, but it looks like he’s somehow managed to nag his way into your psyche, too. 

You take the back stairs quietly and let yourself out onto the alleyway balcony, climbing the rickety fire escape to the rooftop. You’d found the access to the roof your second week and it’s still your favorite place in the whole bar. On a clear night, you can see all the way to downtown Tokyo. It’s always quiet this high up, tranquil and serene. You brace yourself against the concrete wall and watch the lights of the city glimmer, like distant jewels, in the darkness.

You pull a small joint from your pant pocket and flick your lighter on, setting the edge of the rolling paper alight and taking a slow drag. The inhale fills your lungs with a light pressure and you savor the feeling before blowing a thin line of smoke into the night. You get a few more hits in before you hear the fire escape stairs rattle, signaling that someone is coming your way. You debate dampening your roach, but you don’t want to waste it, so you tuck the smoldering paper in your other hand, maneuvering it out of sight. 

The white shine of his hair always gives him away. 

Tomura hops over the ledge and his eyes are already lifting, searching for yours as he stands. You arch an eyebrow at his tense stance and you can’t help your giddy smile. “Everything ok?” 

“Kurogiri said you were taking a break,” he replies, dipping his long fingers into his pockets and sauntering over to the patch of concrete you’re braced against. 

“Yeah,” you confirm, waiting until he’s closer to lift the joint back to your lips, taking a steadying pull and scooting over, so he can fit beside you on the wall. “It’s busy, and I’ve been slinging drinks all night. Just wanted to decompress for a bit.”

Tomura doesn’t reply, but he does slot himself close, the warmth of his broad shoulder radiating against yours. The two of you drift into a companionable silence, and the only sounds that greet you is the quiet hush of traffic below and your inhales and exhales of smoke. 

“You got another meeting?” you ask, crossing your arms and pressing minutely closer, enjoying the distant shiver Tomura gifts you. 

“No,” he murmurs, his voice low. You think that might be the end of the conversation but he continues a few seconds later, his head tilting toward yours, those red eyes scanning your upturned face. “They’re on a mission. I’m not able to participate. It will need to be like a SIM game. They are the pieces that I’ll move over the board, they’ll act to my battle plan.”

You turn to him, your eyes wide. “So, they’re just...pawns? Little NPC’s that don’t matter?”

Tomura laughs and his teeth gleam in the moonlight and distant shine of the neon lights. “Of course not. Do I look that heartless? No, they’re valuable players and if this goes right, we’ll be able to take on the next level with a decided edge.” 

You let that last comment hover, pausing to take another huff, your eyes lowered, brooding over his words. “So, you’re their vanguard leader?”

“Sure,” Tomura nods, “We can’t keep grinding each mission, hoping to pick up any XP these heroes happen to drop. We need to make waves of our own.”

“Oh? Like the Hero Killer?”

“No,” Tomura snarls, his arm tensing beside yours, a hand rising to scritch at his scarred neck agitatedly. “Nothing like him. We’re looking past him. He was too short sighted, so busy following his own code of justice that he didn’t notice he was breeding more heroes, not putting them down.”

“Hmm,” you sigh, thumping your head lightly against the concrete behind you. “That is true. But, you can’t deny he’s brought up some serious divisions. It’s funny, really. It makes me think of this little hero toy I had when I was younger. 

It was of an older hero, he prolly died long ago, but I loved that toy when I was a kid. Then, as I got older, it stopped mattering and one day, without me even realizing it, it lost its importance entirely. I wonder if hero society will ever shift to that. With the fractures that have been seen at UA and all over Japan, it could be a matter of time before real change starts to happen. Anyway, I wasn’t meaning to grill you on your, uh, projects. I was--”

“What toy?” 

His question nonpluses you and you cock your head, blinking up at his peripheral stare. “Um, I think it was of that fast hero, O’clock. It was my older brothers originally, but he passed it down to me. No idea where it is now. It likely got lost in a move or accidentally left behind.”

Tomura lifts his eyes from yours, his jaw clenching and a slow gulp echoing down his lean throat. You watch the bob of his Adam’s apple, fascinated by the movement. That urge to touch him is back and you have to clench your fingers into your palms to quiet it. 

You’re so distracted by your primal reaction to him, that you miss his question and he has to repeat it, his eyes slipping back to yours, the red dark. 

“What?” you ask, blinking against the acuteness of his gaze. 

“Can I take a hit of that?”

“Of what...oh.” You lift the half smoked joint and chuckle at yourself, pressing the smoldering paper toward him. “Sure. You had one before?”

“Does it matter?” He scoffs, carefully taking the white roach from you and raising it to his chapped lips.

“Go slow,” you warn as he begins to inhale, his eyes drifting to a half mast, concentrating.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he grumbles, pulling a tentative, but heavy, drag into his lungs.

“Fine,” you scoff playfully, “do what you want. But don’t blame me when you’re coughing up a lung.”

He rolls his eyes, but doesn’t heed your advice and, seconds later, he’s clutching at his throat, dropping the joint onto the broken gravel and concrete as he heaves. Instinctively, you thump him on his back and run your palm soothingly over his lean shoulder blades, surprised by the corded muscle that greets you. For a relatively thin guy, he’s certainly packing some strength under that unassuming form of his. 

Tomura startles at your touch and he yanks himself away from you, his head ducked, eyes fastening onto yours, the irises accusatory and bright, burning with some underlying emotion that you’re too nervous to name right now. 

“Uh,” you begin, aghast that you’ve upset him, “m-my bad…”

But, he’s already leaving, his head firmly turned from you, clambering over the edge and back onto the fire escape, leaving you alone in the darkness. 

******                

After that night, you can’t slip him out of your mind. Even when you sleep, you can see those red eyes of his, gleaming and hungry. One evening, you’d even woken with your fingers firmly pressed to your throbbing clit, stumbling and gasping, shaking free of a dream of him. He’d felt so real, so in focus and you can’t catch your breath, fingers still rubbing a tight circle over your quivering bundle of nerves. You pant as you break yourself, sukling in the whites and reds that haze over your vision. Yeah, that crush of his definitely isn’t a one sided thing.

The next shift you work, he’s waiting for you, perched in his familiar seat, his shoulders curved and tight. You give him a glance, but he doesn’t meet your eyes. His hands are lowered, fiddling with something under the bartop. You begin to open your bar, trying to quiet your wandering thoughts, not wanting to perturb him again. You’re uncorking a red wine when he presses something across the mahogany wood of the bar, toward you.

It’s small, with dark colors and a tiny, familiar, upper half mask. You let the bottle of wine thud against the counter, abandoning the half opened bottle to move closer. It’s...it’s your-- No. It can’t be yours, but it is the same toy, the one you’d mentioned on the roof the other night. How did he?

You gulp and look up at him, your heart pulsing wildly against your ribs. For the first time, he looks away from you first, his white hair pillowing across his brow. His lips start to rise in an all too habitual scowl and his raspy voice lifts to your ears. “If you don’t want it,” he grouses, one hand pulling away from the offered toy, clearly flustered by your wondering gaze. Without thinking, you slip your fingertips over the top of his hand, prolonging the touch, sulking in the warmth of him. 

His fingers curl, some unconscious tremor racing along his digits. He almost yanks himself away, but then he stops, sighing as his eyes lift to yours. For a long moment, the two of you watch the other. You can hear his breathing speed up and you can almost smell the shift in the air. All it would take is one, tiny push to break that delicious tension. 

Tomura’s nostrils flare as you start to lean closer, your body curving toward his, fingers still pressing into his skin. Your tongue dips out, wetting your lower lip and pulling it into your mouth, sucking on the plush flesh. His eyelids have lowered and he’s mirroring your motions, his elbows assisting his lift, his face upturning, seeking, reaching.

With a bang, the front door is flung open and it breaks the spell that’s fallen over the two of you. Tomura leans away first, his eyes narrowed in agitation, sliding from your open face to the darkness of the entryway. You exhale a shaking breath and follow Tomura’s gaze. It’s that masked man, the one with the top hat and he’s already striding confidently forward, peppering Tomura with a series of questions. 

Snagging up his gift to you, you walk back to your bottle of wine. 

******    

You don’t have a chance to see Tomura again until he tells you, one evening, that the bar is going to be closed for the next few days. Then, over his shoulder, you spot the blonde boy, strapped and bound into a stiff chair and you blanch, stunned, too overwrought to give him more than a one word acknowledgement before stumbling back outside. In all of your talks, he’d never mentioned anything like this. That boy looked like a kid, barely past middle school, his eyes wild and defiant, but also so, so frightened. 

No, you think, pacing your apartment, it’s impossible to come to terms with this. You can’t stay there, can’t work there. It’s too dangerous, too close to a real criminal den for comfort. You have to look out for yourself, no matter your feelings for the man who’s wandering down some long, lost pathway, toward a future you can’t even comprehend, let alone see.

So, you hand in your written resignation. 

Kurogiri is behind the bar when you bring it in, and you’re hoping that the early morning conversation will spare you from having to see him. The wispy, purple hand of Kurogiri is just about to take your letter when Tomura barges down the hallway. His eyes immediately land on you and he steps forward, a dark look passing over his palled features. 

“Why?” he growls, fingers snatching the paper from Kurogiri and crumbling the parchment to bits, his quirk rendering your typed words to nothingness. 

“I don’t want to be a part of any kidnapping. It…” you pause, looking toward Kurogiri and, to your surprise, he nods to Tomura and moves away, leaving the two of you alone in the vacant bar. Tomura is still glaring at you, but he’s waiting for you to finish your thought, his jaw grinding quietly. 

“This doesn’t feel like you.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Tomura scoffs, his chin jutting at the assertion. 

“This doesn’t change society. This is just some petty attempt to get back at the UA staff. It’s like...It’s like you’re asking for trouble to seek you out. You’re smarter than this. Besides, what are you going to do with him?” you smart, crossing your arms and balling your fingers into your fists. 

“What do you know about anything? That kid’s been oppressed by hero society, literally muzzled and bound--”

“As if you’re doing any better! He’s still muzzled and bound, Tomura! He’s just in a different location. This is insanity. Who put you up to doing--”

“That doesn’t matter. This conversation has nothing to do with that. You can’t leave,” Tomura snaps, his head lowering, soft white hair falling over his face. “Give it a few more days.”

“What? I can’t stay if the bar is raided and it’s prolly gonna be if you keep that kid. Besides, that’s not--”

“Just...just give me a few more days. I don’t want to beg you, I shouldn’t fucking need to beg you. It’s not an impossible request (Y/N). Just--”

“Fine,” you sigh, uncrossing your arms and watching him. He looks on edge, haggard and angry. Those emotions aren’t projected at you, you know that. Nevertheless, it doesn’t lessen the danger he’s asking you to stand with him in. But, you can give him a few days and you tell him so, trying to ignore the pattering of your heart when he looks at you and smiles.

******

Then, Kamino happens. 

You weren’t there, thank God. But he was, and now, no matter what he’d asked of you, no matter what he’d hoped for, everything shifts apart. Days linger into weeks and you’re trying your best to reason that he’d made it out in one piece. Surely, you would have heard something. The capture of the leader of the League of Villains would have been a morsel that the media would have wanted to crow about, especially after the loss of All Might. 

Late one evening, your phone rings. 

It’s an unknown, blacked out number, but something tells you to answer, so you pick it up. You almost gasp when you hear that familiar rasp and you listen to what he tells you. You can’t get over how brittle and cracked his voice sounds but you write down the address he gives you. He cloaks his true motivations with a lie. Apparently, he has your last paycheck. Like that even matters to you. Honestly, you’re just glad he’s safe and whole. But, he’s gone to all this effort to build a bridge back to him, so of course you’re going to go.

You check and double check the directions, carefully maneuvering and weaving through bus stops and back streets. Somehow, you make it and find yourself pressing open a dilapidated door and stepping into a small room. Only darkness greets you, even though the bright midday sun is shining outside. The place he’s brought you to is on a dock, on the outskirts of town, close to the salty edge of a bay. You can hear the mournful cries of a seagull as you close the door behind you, sealing yourself inside and blinking into the gloom.

It takes you a minute to catch sight of him.

He’s lingering along the edges but you can make out the glow of his eyes, red and fierce. He looks different. It’s only been a few weeks, but it looks like the weight of years has crushed him under its unfeeling grind in that short amount of time. No, Kamino has changed him, rendering him unhinged and dangerous, drifting along the peripheral of your vision. Still, you haven’t come here to witness him falling to bits at your feet. No, you’d come here with another, darker motive. 

Now, to work.

“What happened?” you ask, keeping your back firmly against the door. Watching him move closer, those red shoes of his glinting over the dark wooden floors.

“Sensei is...gone,” he replies, his voice hollow and faint. He’s mentioned his Sensei before and you’d heard the man’s strange voice echoing from that back television, like some distant, terrifying specter. But, you knew he was important to Tomura, more like a father than a teacher. However, you’d seen the news. You knew he was beaten to a pulp and captured, locked away and out of Tomura’s reach. Now, he can’t ask his Sensei for advice or support, not anymore. Even knowing what little you’ve gleaned about the strange man, Tomura must be devastated by his loss.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, genuine in your sympathy.

Tomura nods and fishes for something in the pocket of his trench coat, lifting a thin slip of paper out and showing it to you. “Here,” he sighs, still not meeting your eyes directly. 

“Oh,” you say, moving away from the door and taking a few steps toward him. “You really did ask me here for the check, huh?”

“What else did you want?” he grumbles, his voice regaining a small slice of that familiar rasping. The question lingers and you feel your pulse speed up, your palms itching at your sides. “Or, did you want to scold me again?” Tomura continues disgruntled, and you can see a grimace pass over his face.

“You deserved it,” you confirm, taking another step, only wavering when you’re a few feet from him. “You wouldn’t be in this mess if you hadn't kidnapped that UA student. Now, the kid, and your Sensei are gone and you’re stuck here. Wherever here is”

“Look at you, quite the oracle aren’t you? So, you did come here to berate me.” Tomura snaps, dropping your pay stub to the dusty floor. 

“No,” you shake your head, not wanting this to spiral out of your control, not wanting him to simply shut you out, alone on that pier, left with all of your what ifs. “No, I didn’t come here to do that. I-I...it’s just that...well...that wasn’t you. That whole plan...it still doesn’t make sense”

“How the fuck would you know what is, or isn’t, me? You said that that morning, too. I didn’t like it then and I don’t like it now,” Tomura bristles, closing the distance and bowing up to you. You can feel the sheer heat of him radiating against your shirt and you shiver at the sensation. If you lift your hand you could touch him, you think distantly. He’s so close...He’s so... 

You gulp, trying to quell your rising emotions. “I guess, I don’t know then.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Fine,” you say, biting your lip.

“Fine,” he repeats, no doubt thinking that will be the end of it, but you’re not finished.

“You’re better than this you know,” you tell him, eyes searching for his, not relenting your glare until he finally meets you halfway, his red eyes flashing.

“Better than what? Better than you? A half baked woman, slumming her way from mid range bar, to mid range bar. Hoping you’ll catch the eye of the right person, someone who can pluck you from all the muck and grime that you lift that pretty little nose of yours at.”

“What?” you breathe, a snarl of your own etching across your face.

“Don’t act like you didn’t know what you were doing. Fucking leading me on like that--”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You thought I’d be your ticket out, or you could wager me later for a better piece, something stronger, someone that could do something for you.” Tomura is seething, his chest bumping against yours, the red of his eyes burning as he glowers at you. 

“Tomura- I don’t know what you’re talk--”

“Stop saying that. You stupid, or something? And stop saying my name like that. Like it fucking matters. You could have had anything, you know? But...but you took it all for granted. You had the world...and then it...it’s...it’s just gone.”

He’s not talking about you anymore. Even though he’s growling and spitting rage at you, he’s not talking about you. “Shigaraki,” you begin, trying to see some way to reason with him. To bring him back to you. 

“Don’t call me that,” he groans, his head dipping, almost resting against your shoulder. “I haven’t earned...that’s not me.” 

“Alright. What am I supposed to call you?” you whisper, overwhelmed and trying to resist that urge to pull him into your arms. You’ve never seen him like this, and you don’t know, you don’t…

“There you go again, acting like you care.” Tomura scoffs, rolling his eyes. 

“I do care, you ass,” you bite, turning your head toward him and letting your voice fall beside his ear. He snarls at the assertion and presses impossibly closer, trying his best to put on a show of wavering strength, knowing you might still be bullied into backing down, into denying him. But it’s not working, no you’ve come this far and you don’t want to leave him, not like this. 

“I care,” you repeat, still murmuring next to his cheek, so near you can hear, and feel, his ragged breaths, hot against your skin.

“About what?” he grunts, moving his head from you, determined to not let you win.

“About, well, you.”

“Liar,” he spits, but his voice wavers, showing you a tiny, tiny sliver of hope.

“Am not,” you counter and watch as he leans back, those vermillion eyes searching for yours. One of his hands lifts and he ghosts the digits over the top of your shoulder, watching as you shift toward the distant touch, pulled to him, like a magnet.

“Such a liar,” he posits, fingers hovering beside your neck, twitching with want. 

“No, I’m not,” you gasp, your voice so faint, you’re worried he might not hear it. But he does and he dips his head toward you, inches from your face, lips already parted and waiting. 

“Prove it,” he challenges, his voice deepening, losing that sharpened edge at long last.

So, you shove him. 

You’re not sure why that’s your first, instinctive reaction, but it’s too late to question your motives and it sparks a crazed response from the man in front of you, snapping him out of his head and refocusing him. 

He fumbles backwards, caught off guard, his red shoes catching as he lumbers, trying to not fall. His eyes flash at you and he instantly rights himself, moving back to you. Through it all, you can hear yourself saying something. It sounds like it might have been another taunt, but you can’t focus, not when he’s pressing himself against you, his fingers finally, finally touching you. 

Tomura can’t seem to settle now that he’s gotten ahold of you, his fingers tracing over your neck, your shoulders, your face, your sides. He’s panting and gasping, his fevered exhales fanning over your prickling skin.

“Get off me,” you moan, batting at his wandering hands.

“No,” he sighs, cupping your jaw and dragging you to his shaking lips. His kiss is clumsy, almost childlike. He lifts and leans, pressing halting smacks against you, grunting when you twist from him, fighting his hold.

“You don’t deserve it,” you tell him, wanting to lance that boil that’s festering in his mind, knowing he needs the pain before he can handle the sweetness of the pleasure. The last thing he needs is love. No, not right now. Hopefully, there will be time for that later. But for now, he needs something raw and shattered, something that will let him see that it’s not impossible to pick up the pieces, that he can be whole again, he just needs to try.

He drags his rough lips over yours and you lower your fingers into his snowy hair, pulling him closer, demanding that he give you more. He gasps at the sudden shift and you slip your tongue into his mouth, tangling it with his and yanking stammering moans from him. Your lips are slick now and you use the extra lubrication to slip down his neck, leaving him trembling above you. 

You dip into each and every scar, laving over all those old hurts until he’s snarling. You leave a bruising bite against his pulse and he snatches your face between his palms, dragging you back to his lips. 

“Stop squirming,” he complains, his forehead bumping against yours, trying to keep up with your rapid fire laps and sucks. 

“No,” you laugh, fingers lacing into the lapels of his trench coat and using the leverage to drag your breasts over his hardened pectorals. He grunts at the sensation, one arm wrapping around your lower back, pinning you to him. When he finally manages to work his way free of your frantic presses, he lowers his lips to your neck, mimicking the same path you’d taken with him, his teeth nipping and pulling until your humming, giving him a thin cry of encouragement that spurs him on. 

Tomura drags a canine over your pulse and you shiver, folding into his crumpled embrace. He’s almost having to hold you upright and he growls when you slip from his arms, annoyed you’re making this so fucking difficult. 

“I said, keep still,” he reminds you, heaving you back up, lean forearms bracing you to him. You smile and lace your arms around his neck, wanting his lips again. He allows the pull, loving the contrast of your plush skin against his. He’s a fast learner and this time, it’s his tongue taps and maneuvers for entrance, swallowing down your needy pants. His nose presses into your cheek and you cup at his jaw, stroking the warm skin until he slows his frantic pace, meeting you halfway, and lingering in your wet softness.

Then, just as he’s getting comfortable, you dig your teeth into his lower lip, pulling until you bleed out a little taste of copper. He snarls and shoves you away, lifting the side of his hand to his injured mouth. 

“What was that for?” He snaps, tapping his fingers against the wound, watching as they come back red. “The fuck is wrong with…” His ire stutters to a halt when he catches sight of you. 

You’ve already slipped your shirt over your head and now your fingers are twisting until you unclasp your bra, sliding the lace down your arms. The cool air makes your nipples tighten but you don’t attempt to cover yourself from him. Instead, you arch an eyebrow at his abashed expression and begin to unbutton your pants, your fingers teasingly lingering over the button and zipper, before lowering the denim down the curve of your hips. 

You don’t even hear him approach. No, you’re too distracted by your little show to notice him until you feel those warm fingers tracing over the newly bared swells of your skin. You lift your head and your eyes catch his, smiling at the hazy hunger that’s blazing out at you. His touch is tentative and you roll your eyes openly at him, lifting your own hands over his, pressing him until he’s digging those four digits into your sumptuous flesh. 

His thumb rubs over your pebbled nipple and you reward him with a low moan, your eyes slipping behind your heavy eyelids. He cups at your other breast and lifts the weight of you into his palm, openly marveling at the feel of you. Still, it’s not enough and if you’re going to get your point across, you need him to give you more than these lazy strokes. 

“Take off your jacket,” you tell him, stepping away from him, quaking minutely in the loss of his warmth. 

“What?” he asks, clearly too overwrought to hear you. So, you help him along. Your fingers snatch the shoulders of his trench and you yank it off him, tossing the fabric down to the gritty floors. Then, you shove at him again. He isn’t as taken aback this time and he rallies immediately, snatching at you and dragging you against him, making you gasp at the harsh sensation of his dark clothes against your bare front. 

“What do you want?” you ask him, licking your tongue along the underside of his jaw, listening to his shuddering breaths. “What do you want to do to me, Tomura? Come on, I know you’ve got some idea. Fucking show me. Don’t let me boss you around, unless that’s what you’re wanting today to be about. I can take those reigns from you. I’m better at this after all. Less...flustered,” you pause, sucking and nipping at his neck, enjoying the indecisive flex of his fingers on your upper arms.

He allows you one more bite and then he’s tossing you down, not caring where you land. Thankfully, you sprawl over his discarded jacket, the fabric sparing you from the neglected wooden floor. You’re trying to regain your bearings when you hear his belt clatter to the floor. You look up at him, watching as he flings that dark shirt away, showing you the lean muscles that you’ve wondered about for so long. God, for someone so lanky, he looks fucking good. 

Tomura smirks at your expression and swiftly yanks his pants and boxers away too, revealing something even more mouthwatering. Fuck, fuck, you think, an involuntary gasp leaving your lips. His cock is thick, pulsing and absolutely dripping with his precum. The tip is a lovely pink, curving toward that chiseled stomach of his and damn, you want to suck on it until he’s putty in your hands. 

As if he can read your mind, Tomura steps closer, giving himself a few tugs as he peers down on you, imperious and almost perfectly in control. “You want it?” He asks, trying to hide that sudden shift in his voice, wanting to show you that he understands what you’re expecting from him. You nod and bite your lip, looking up at him from feathery eyelashes. 

“Come here,” he requests, slowing those pulls and letting his precum slip from his fist to the floor, tempting you with those tiny droplets of arousal. Obediently, you rise to your knees, fingers tracing up his thighs, smiling at the light buckling he gives you, his calves twitching and shaking. 

You tease your way to the apex of his hips and pause, lingering along that dip of his stomach. “Can I taste you?” you question coquettishly and you adore the moan that falls from his lips. 

Taking that as a yes, you slowly lower your mouth to him, ghosting the tip of him over you. Rubbing him back and forth, painting that thick precum over your lips until they’re glistening. Tiring of this little game, his fingers dip into your hair and he grips you, hard. With one pull, he’s burying that velvet heat of his length past the ring of your lips and into the sweet cavern of your mouth. His cock swells and throbs as you lap ravenous at the hefty weight of him.

He’s salty and earthy and you let your tongue swirl over his slit, lapping into that leaking gap until he’s murmuring nonsense over you. He’s almost too big for you to take, so one of your hands lifts and wraps around his base, easing your sucks and ensuring that none of him is left out of this gift of mind numbing ecstasy you’re bestowing upon him. 

There are several veins, racing along the side of his cock and you tickle along each of them, pressing until you can feel the beat of his heart, frantic and fluttering. Soon, he begins to silently ask you for more, rutting his hips against your face, scraping himself along the back of your throat. When you heave around him he lets out a loud, elongated moan and digs in again, lingering until you’re nearly choking. 

You chance a peek up at him and are surprised to see him gazing right back, those red eyes of his clouded and muddled. His hand keeps an insistent pressure against the back of your head, demanding that you keep going. So, you pick up the pace, lapping and sucking, hollowing your cheeks until a thin line of your drool begins to trickle along your chin, dripping onto your knees.

“Can...can I…” he begins, fingers starting to tremble, his knees buckling. No, that’s not what you want from him. You shake free of his hand, letting him slip from your mouth, and he stammers and sputters at the loss, his eyes narrowed and dark, glaring at you with a raw frustration. 

“No,” you tell him, keeping one hand on him, stroking him, maintaining that steady pressure until he’s grunting, his hips instinctively canting into the tantalizing motion. “No, you don’t ask me for anything. Yeah, I can finish you off, if you need me to take control, but it’s not going to be on your terms. If you’re wanting something Tomura, you better fucking take it. Stop asking me for permission. I’m not-- mmph--”

He rips your hand off of his dick and his fingers curl beside your ears, forcing your mouth back, and impaling you on his length, immediately gagging you on his heady thrusts. You inhale sharply, your breath catching, failing as he keeps railing into you. More saliva slides out of your lips and you falter, a weak whimper echoing around him. 

“Mmm,” he growls, holding your face as he presses against the back of your throat loving the clenching and mewls you give him. “That feels fucking good, (Y/N). Taking all of my cock, ah- fucking choking on it. You’re so fucking greedy. Don’t worry, I’ll give you more. Let’s see, what would make this even better, oh, I know. Saw it in a porn once. Put your hands behind your back and don’t move them unless I tell you to.”

Immediately, you clasp your fingers together, letting them rest against your lower back. The suspension knocks you off kilter, but Tomura braces your head with his other hand, pinning you between his palms. His dick is still lancing in and out of your mouth, scraping against your tonsils, making you swallow and open, trying to push yourself past that oppressive gagging sensation.

“Ahhh, such a good girl, now spread your legs and lift up, just a little bit, yes- right there. Better keep those hands still,” he taunts, pulling his cock out until it hangs against your lower lip, glimmering with the sheen of your ministrations. Then, he dives back in, thrusting and grinding until his balls are papping against your soaking chin. Your legs tremble as you hold yourself up and you can feel your own arousal, slipping down your inner thighs, splattering onto that dark trench coat of his. 

You’re heaving under him, grunting and slobbering trying to not fucking choke on the girth that’s being pistoned into you. He’s gasping praise at you, his white head thrown back, and his lower abdomen is rippling, letting you know he’s so, so close to spilling down your abused throat. He bows over you as he cums, spewing thick ropes of his release into you. You gulp at him, determined to let every last drop slither down your waiting throat, longing to savor everything that he’s giving you. 

True to your promise, you keep your hands clasped and you nearly topple over when he tugs free of your lips. Tomura takes pity on your wilted form and lowers himself to his knees, wrapping one hand around you and tapping twice on your shaking digits, letting you know you can relax your grip. You fall forward, and he waits above you, watching you with a mounting fascination. Once you catch your breath, you look up at him, not caring that you’re still covered in a mix of tears, spit and his cum. He smirks at your dishevelment, pleased by your open display of your wanton lust for him. 

“See? It’s not hard to take what you want, to do what you want,” you pant, still trying to gulp down a few more rough intakes of air.

Tomura sucks his teeth at your bravado, but you notice he’s having a little bit of trouble steading his own breathing and his hands are twitching as they reach for you. You hum when he cups at your dips and curves, lingering over spots that make you moan for him. As he plucks at one of your puckered nipples his eyes lift to yours and he leans close, pressing a wet line of kisses against your collarbone.

“Lay back,” he rumbles, still sucking at the hollow of your throat. You do as he says, propping yourself on your elbows, curious and waiting. He’s slowed down now that he’s slaked that first brush of pent up aggression, but he’s still got a little more to burn. You can see it, lingering behind his vermillion eyes, gleaming under the carnal intrigue. 

His fingers, so dangerous and deadly, race down your sides, falling to the juncture of your legs and dipping into the slick that he finds. He parts your folds, bracing himself over you, his lips sucking bruises into your skin. The gossamer threads of your leaking cunt run down his fingers and onto his open palm and he groans into your neck, nuzzling his nose to your skin and inhaling, deeply. 

“Does that feel good?” He asks, his voice scraping, like sandpaper, hoarse and undone along your heated cheek. Ok, you think, arching as he dips one digit into you, you can let him have that one question, especially when your mind is fogging over like this, unable to think of anything but that ache that’s pounding through your core. You roll your hips again, urging that finger to slip further and he hisses as you pull him in, your walls trembling at the intrusion. 

“Fuck,” he grunts, lifting himself to look down at you, his eyes wide with an awed marvel. “You’re so…”

“Mmm, so what?” you ask, wanting him to keep talking to you, loving rasp of his tone as it tells you such sinful things.

“So soft and warm and...God...so wet,” he replies, adding another finger, watching as you whine for him, your lower lips parting and welcoming him. He pumps the digits, in and out, at a steady rate, waiting for each quiver and ripple, trying to feel his way along, wanting to please you. 

“Can--” he stops himself, flushing as your eyes open and snap to his, a rough displeasure written over your face. He tears his gaze from yours and scowls, letting his fingers press a rougher rhythm into you, sucking his teeth at his unspoken inexperience. 

“This feels good,” you reassure him, not wanting to completely leave him adrift, knowing that he does need a little piece of guidance, for this part, at least. “Why don’t you get a closer look?” 

Tomura looks back to you and nods before sliding down your body, lowering himself until he’s face to face with his prize. His mouth drops and he licks at his chapped lips, painting a few, warm, exhales against your sensitive folds. You squirm at the sensation and he grins, leaning closer, his free hand spreading you for his inspection. 

“Is this…” his voice trails off and you can feel him wandering his way to just the right spot. When he lifts the fleshy hood of your clit and thumbs the distended pearl you gasp and shiver, your head falling back against his jacket, thumping against the floor. 

He laughs and you can feel him getting ready to swipe at you again, his thumb already slippery and near, the heat of it radiating against that sensitive bundle. “You like that,” he crows, repeating the motion until you’re writhing. “But—” he ponders, moving so his lips are pressed against you, resting on those sopping folds, waiting for you to look up at him. Once your head lifts and your eyes meet his, he lowers his mouth, sliding his tongue over you. 

“Oh,” you whisper, your hands automatically lifting and curling into his hair, threading the white tendrils along your palms. His tongue is rough and bumpy as it glides along, pausing to lap at some of your arousal. He smacks his lips at the taste, savoring the flavor before voraciously pressing back into you for more. When he pauses his explorations to give your clit a soft suck, you can’t help but flail, your back bowing and thighs tightening around his head. 

Tomura grunts at the rough treatment, prying your legs apart but not letting up on that suction, pleased he’s found something that makes you tremble to pieces in his hands. He’s always liked working you up, so it makes sense that, in this instance, he’s no different. 

His long digits are scraping into you, dragging along your quivering walls and spreading your cunt apart, leaking your arousal all over his jacket and onto his chin. He’s not satisfied yet, you’re not satisfied yet, so he keeps going, listening and watching, catching on to what makes you cry out his name, learning and adapting at an alarming speed. 

“T-Tomura,” you keen, your hips lifting, grinding yourself against his face, begging him to not stop. You feel a smirk lift his lips and his tongue begins to circle and lick over your clit, maintaining a steady pressure. Meanwhile, his fingers have latched onto something delicate and spongy within your pussy, repeating an arched gesture, curling and uncurling as they stroke your budding flames higher. 

“So good…” you murmur, hardly able to form the words as you feel that all encompassing tingle race along your bloodstream. “You’re doing so f-fucking good.” 

In response, he begins to suckle on your clit, lightly tracing a canine over the pulsing bundle and that’s all that it takes. Your head dips back, pressing into the floor so hard that your neck arches with your back and your legs wrap around him, holding him to you as you quiver and shake under him. You can feel your heartbeat as you return to yourself, thumping a rapid beat over your breastbone and radiating out to your fingers and toes. 

Tomura, for his part, hadn’t stopped lapping at you, his tongue replacing his fingers as he pushes the wet appendage into you, soaking up each wave of your release. Even when you’d dropped your death grip, your legs and arms flopping away from him, boneless and shaking, he’d kept on. After a few minutes of this, his lips suddenly feel a little too ragged, the chapped skin scratching against your sensitive, overstimulated, flushed lower lips. You do your best to wriggle away, but he stills your movements, not quite finished. 

“Ah- that...it’s starting to hurt,” you grouse, pushing a hand against his bowed head. That declaration seems to get through and, finally placated, he gives you one last lick and lifts his head, his eyes glinting down on you, dark and mischievous. 

“I want to fuck you,” he tells you, wiping a hand across his mouth, dragging the last of your essence away. You tilt your head and grin up at him. “So fuck me,” you reply, spreading your legs again, making room for his trim hips.

“Not like this,” he qualifies, his eyes hooded as he runs a hand along your leg, enjoying your skin, warm and pliant under his palm.

“Then how?” you ask, a little bewildered by this shift in attitude. Tomura leans up, resting on his haunches, leering at your nakedness, another smirk lifting his lips, arching that scar.

“Stand up,” he instructs. 

You pull your legs away and slowly rise to your feet, waiting for him to do the same. Once the two of you are eye level again, he tugs you to him, his lips pulling and nipping at yours. You can’t help but melt into his persistent touch and when he feels you slacken against him, he starts to push you backwards. He walks you slowly, carefully, but once your back touches the cold wall, his caresses become rougher, more insistent. 

He’s lifting your chin and his teeth are doing more biting than nipping, pulling at your lips until you’re gasping and swollen. He begins to lift away and you protest the movement, but his hand presses into your chest, shoving you back to the wall. You freeze at the forceful treatment, your eyes opening and fastening onto his. Waiting for his next move.

Tomura’s regained that wild look, his eyes hardening, sharpening like ruby slips of flint as they linger over you. “Turn around and brace your hands against the wall,” he commands and, for an instant, you debate pushing back, challenging his order, but that’s not what you’re here for. No, you’d come here with one thought in mind. 

To see if you could show him what choices, what strong inner drive, wholly independent of his Sensei, he did have. 

You’d watched that kidnapping debacle and all you could think about was how much better, how much stronger he’d be if he could just get out from under the thumb of that man, that voice on the tv. Even with this informal exercise of your own, Tomura had taken to your carnal lessons like a fish to water. He had always been a natural born leader, someone who cultivated and demanded change, he just needs a chance to try. A chance to prove that he didn’t need to ask permission, to ask questions. No, he only needed to act and he could make his aspirations a reality. 

So, you turn, splaying your fingers against the wall and waiting for his next move, tilting your head, wanting to see him. He runs a calloused hand over the plush swell of your ass, kneading the skin and stepping closer. Once his hips are flush with your posterior, he ruts his newly re-hardened cock against you, his ever copious precum aiding his motion, letting him glide between your cheeks, easing into that cleft. You groan and press back, wordlessly asking for him to keep going. 

Suddenly, his palm smacks against your ass, stinging the flesh and sending a sharp crack around the barren room. “I said, push out more. How am I supposed to fuck you when you’re plastered to the wall like that?” Tomura questions, his voice deep and guttural. You brace your hands against the peeling wallpaper and jut your ass out, presenting yourself to him, quietly hoping he’ll reward you with another spank. Pleased, Tomura does just that, his other hand lifting and smarting against your other, neglected cheek, imprinting his mark on you, even if it’s only for a brief moment, and his fingers linger on the warmth he’s raised from your skin. 

“Good girl,” he groans, taking his cock in his hand and searching for that weeping entrance to your waiting pussy. You aid him as best as you can, arching your hips until he finally, finally slips into you. Tomura lets out a deep sigh as your cunt devours his cock, slicking him into the heat of your rippling channel. “Oh, fuck,” he moans, pressing until his hips are flush with your ass, grinding his bony hipbone into your supple softness.

He gives you a brief second to adjust before he bows his head over your shoulder, panting and grunting. “Hold on,” he gasps, slowly pulling his hips back and then ramming his straining cock back into you. You mewl at the sudden ferocity of his thrusts, your head dipping against the steady weight of the wall. 

He offers you no reprieve as he pounds into you, his teeth latching onto your skin, sucking and drooling, losing himself in you. His balls tap against your swelled ass and you moan when he traces one hand around you, his fingers seeking your clit and pinching at the nub. 

Your teeth begin to chatter, but he doesn’t let up, maintaining that mind numbing pace, pressing and grinding until you can’t fucking think straight. He’s completely untethered and he slakes out all of those pent up questions, feelings, hurts and wants against you. After a time, he begins to murmur things to you, finally sucking up his loose tongue and resting his chin on the mess he’s left on your skin.

He’s worried he can’t do it. 

He’s never been alone, not like this. 

Sure, he has the others, he has Kurogiri, but it’s not the fucking same. 

He needs to see this through. 

He wants to, he has to.

Where do you go, when there’s no one else to turn to?

It’s like a confessional, this rutting he’s doing and it’s bleeding all of those thoughts away, letting them pool against the front of his mind and then, pop, they shift away. 

Oh this helps, he thinks, loving how you’re fucking taking him, how much you fucking need him. He can’t let you go. He can’t, he won’t. You’re all he has left. After all this, he can’t lose anything else. No, you were right, he’s gotta start taking things, snatching up pieces until he becomes this unstoppable force, greater than his Sensei, greater than All Might, greater than all of them. Yes, yes, yes, when he has you like this, everything else feels so fucking simple. 

He’s slowing, his hips beginning to stutter and press erratically against you. There’s no need to worry about you cumming for him, not when you’ve already broken around him so many times in the last few minutes. No, the second he started panting all of those thoughts against you, you were lost, your cunt gripping him so tightly you were worried it might never let go. 

Finally, with one last thrust, Tomura grinds his hips against you, his cock swelling and pulsing as he spills himself into you. The sensation of his cum splashing against your walls hurtles you over that edge one last time and you almost collapse, your legs shaking so badly you can't support your own weight. The only thing that prevents you from falling is Tomura. His arms snake around your waist and he holds you to him, his forehead resting heavily against your shoulder, sticking to your skin. 

After a long beat, Tomura pulls himself out of you, grunting at the loss of your warmth and sinks to the floor, dragging you with him. Naked and gasping, the two of you cling to the other, waiting for the world to stop spinning as you come back to yourselves. Tomura recovers first, tugging you to his chest and wrapping himself around you, his chin perched on the familiar slope of your shoulder.

“You didn’t...you didn’t need to do this, but...” Tomura halts, his voice soft as his lips press rough kisses to your skin, silently saying what he really means, what you mean to him.

“That’s not true,” you counter, turning your head toward him. “You deserve to make a choice for yourself. You’re your own boss now. Now all you have to do is act like it. Don’t make those mistakes again. You call the shots, not your Sensei, not anyone else in the League, just you. You’ll have other choices soon, so don’t doubt yourself, it’s not like you.”

He huffs out a laugh and buries his nose in your neck, inhaling your scent as he licks at a rising bruise. “I don’t think you’ll like my next choice,” he rumbles, one hand drifting over your side and cupping the soft mound of your breast.

“That depends on what it is,” you smile, your eyes closing at the tempting touch.

“Mmm, do me a favor,” he begins, nipping at your earlobe. “Get on your knees and open your mouth. You looked so fucking pretty when you were sucking on my cock, I wanna see it, one more time.”

“What?” you question, absolutely incredulous, “again?”

“Do as I say (Y/N),” he replies, rubbing his rising length along your ass.

“God,” you gasp, bucking at the sensation, “what have I done? At this rate, I won’t be able to walk for a week.”

“You’ll like it,” Tomura promises, his voice dark, “I’ll make sure that you do.”

Notes: never have i ever liked that kidnapping bullshit. i guess it lets AFO face off with All Might, but for Tomura’s development? it makes no sense and he’s never done anything like that again, in canon. so, uh, yeah. booo kidnapping scheme. 

Tags: @spicy-skull, @xwildskullx, @yixxes, @ghstmthr, @rekoii, @diaouranask, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love

[well-in-all-honesty-i]

TW: Suicide

OKAY SO- I wanted to talk about Mafuyu and Yuki’s relationship and why it ended the way it did. I should preface this by saying that the majority of this, although somewhat supported by canon, is my own personal headcanon and speculation. I’ve been surrounded by a lot of people who I believe Yuki to be similar to, but I am not 100% accurate or well versed and this is mostly just from what I’ve gotten from those situations. Also, a lot of questionable grammar-I type like I speak, which doesn't translate well haha.

So I want to chunk this into 3 big pieces because I enjoy organizing things: Yuki’s childhood, how that affected his personality as a young adult, and how both of these lead to his eventual death.

Starting off with his childhood:

This one is heavy speculation (as most of this is-but this bit is particularly so) since there isn’t much canon to support this-or provide a lot of insight. But, what little we do know is that 1) Yuki’s father wasn’t present in his life-probably even before Mafuyu’s father had been jailed-and that, 2) Yuki and his father shared the same bull-headedness (?) and pride that Saeko believes led to his death.

I personally believe that Yuki’s father was someone who might have struggled with some sort of mental illness, as well as has had a problem with alcohol abuse. I also imagine that he probably disappeared or passed-either due to some sort of alcohol-related problem or suicide.

Saeko, from how she is characterized in the story, seems to be a very strong-willed and assertive person. In the aftermath of Yuki’s death, she's relatively composed and seems to have almost expected this to happen, although maybe not in the specific way it did. [Ex: When she tells Mafuyu that Yuki was always the type of person to die in a chicken race (a competition of pride, of sorts, that usually ends badly) and when she mentions him being similar to his father in that sense.]

In the flashbacks in the anime, when Mafuyu tells Yuki that his father beats him when he talks, Yuki’s response of ‘You know, a real father doesn’t do that.’ doesn’t sound like something a small child’s first response would be. It’s a bit of a reach-but considering that, as well as how prompt the response from his mother seemed to be (when Mafuyu’s father was jailed-not much time seems to have passed, and since both of their mothers are present, I've always assumed that Yuki's mother found out through her son and acted accordingly.),- it would make sense that Yuki might have some prior experience with this. Especially if his mother had gone through something similar-she probably would’ve warned him very strongly against the ideal his father had set, making Yuki want to be very far from that.

Speaking of which-I assume that Yuki probably had a very rough-if short-lived-relationship with his father when he was around. Given the stuff above, his father was probably someone who was emotionally volatile and tended to lose control when upset. If he had an alcohol problem, he might’ve caused a financial strain that fell onto Saeko as well.

Since his father was out of the picture and Saeko herself wasn't around as much as Yuki might've needed, it would have made him both very independent from his parents and adults in general, while also heavily reliant on Mafuyu (Hiiragi quotes both Mafuyu and Yuki to have been latchkey kids who found comfort in each other), both of which twist into the situation he found himself in later in life.

Leading into his teen years:

Yuki, as a young adult, is very independent-he works multiple jobs to pay for the expenses of being in a band, makes a point to avoid drinking, and is very affectionate towards Mafuyu. I'm not too sure about the reasoning behind why the four friends chose the high schools they did, but if Yuki's mother didn't directly influence that decision it's likely it was a choice made in direct relation to their band.

There's also very little interference from any adults in Yuki's life-namely, his mother. As someone who was probably very busy working as a single mother to support the two of them, her mentality was just to support him monetarily and let Mafuyu provide the emotional support in her place.

I think she also assumed her attempts wouldn't have been well received-most people noted how close Yuki and Mafuyu were and seemed to always assume that they had each other handled and that nobody had to worry about either of them because of it. In every way, it was simply easier to show Yuki she cared by not interfering and letting him hold the reigns of his own life.

A big indicator of this idea for me what when Saeko talked about how Yuki ordered his own ramen, the type he liked. It's a small thing, but it started me to read because it highlighted the amount of input his mother had on his life; which was very little. I don't know if he even used her money or chose to use the extra from his jobs to pay for it, but either way, it sort of put their relationship into perspective.

The impact it had:

Yuki probably had a lot of resentment towards his father, or, at the very least, a desire to turn out different. And oftentimes when a person is very strongly trying to avoid turning out like someone, they ignore or avoid acknowledging the similarities, rather than accepting and working on them to properly change. Without a strong parental/adult figure in his life, he wouldn't have considered insight beyond his own experiences. He's characterized to be moody and domineering, and Mafuyu is too soft-spoken to have brought up most issues until it reached its boiling point.

I believe Yuki might have had Borderline Personality Disorder to a mild extent. Some symptoms of BPD are mood swings, impulsivity, impaired social relationships, and a distorted self-image. They usually have thoughts of suicide or self-harming tendencies. When they feel insecure in relationships, in which they’re usually very, very invested, they tend to lash out or do rash things to keep them close.

Based on my relationships with the borderline people in my life, I've noticed that they usually bounce between having great confidence in themselves, to being incredibly insecure. It's hard to explain specifically, but they walk a fine line of being insecure and also maintaining a painfully strong ego, which makes them react very strongly when provoked, intentionally or not. Yuki and Mafuyu have a different type of relationship than I do with those people in my life which, for the two of them, means that Mafuyu probably had to provide lots of emotional support for Yuki, while also under the mild threat of Yuki coming to harm by his own actions.

Being with someone with these tendencies who is also unaware of them is very draining, especially for someone as mild and soft-spoken as Mafuyu is. Yuki tended to lead their relationship and was probably very noticeable when upset-and for someone who might not be used to speaking up or someone who has low self-confidence, it is difficult to bring up things. It doesn't feel safe if you don't know exactly how it would be received. Especially if they are the person you are closest to, it can be anxiety-inducing to try and bring up problems that don't seem to be incredibly important or unavoidable.

So, long story short-Yuki was closed off to receiving any kind of proper advice or criticism that would've saved him. Another symptom of BPD, as mentioned before, is suicidal ideation. So, if all these things are combined, it's a lot easier to see how he, surrounded by only his thoughts and ideas, would make the choice to take his own life when provoked.

It wasn't specifically that Mafuyu had caused his death, but more that he just sent him over the edge he had been teetering on for a long while. He was like his father in the sense that they had the same flaws that just came from different places. Yuki's pride came from the flip side of his insecurities and his own early independence, and his mental health issues as a whole are probably hereditary. The specificities of his death, where Yuki drinks after avoiding alcohol for his entire life, feels like he failed in his effort to avoid being like his father. He was different as a person but in the end, their flaws aligned and brought them to their end in parallels to each other.

Calling back to what his mom said-it doesn't feel unexpected. It is shocking, but not a surprise. Yuki was fiercely independent and wanted to learn and do new things, all on his own-including his own death and whatever follows after.

[I wrote this a while back and didn’t really like how most of it was speculation and hard to prove-but decided to post it anyway because I spent too much time on it lol.

Like I said before, most of this is just my head canons, but I hope it made sense! Feel free to add on with your stuff/arguments/headcanons :)]

[hikari-writes]

❅A Love Letter I Have to My Lovely and Beloved Friends❅

(I just know that 30 july was a national friendship day and today is like 31 july already at where I am but,,, just pretend that this is also for National Friendship Day 🤡🔫)

As you all know, it's been confirmed that I'll be going on a hiatus two days from now that I really don't know how long it will go on. So, with that in mind, I wished to leave this message to all the wonderful friends I've made while I was active here on Tumblr during quarantine.

I've started this writing blog a few months ago, to be precise, on May where life in quarantine was starting to become a norm. In the few months until now, I did my best to start writing and drawing more using all the free times that I have.

I wouldn't have expected this blog to grow so much in such a short time. To me, it was really mind blowing, seeing that there's a lot of other great content creators here on Tumblr. Yet, the 300+ people who stumbled upon my blog still decided to follow me.

I was really happy to have made many contents that I'm actually proud of posting. And I still can't believe there are people out there who love them. Seeing every one of your comments and reblogs and likes really, really, squeezed my heart and I couldn't be more thankful for your support.

And during these fun times, I was able to make friends with many amazing, talented, fantastic and all the good words I could find in the dictionary people on here. You all are a real gift to me and I hold you guys close to my heart.

I still can't believe I was able to befriend you guys though, like, y'all are so amazing and I was just here like squeaking my name to you like a shy mice lmao. =///= Anyways, thank you for all the good and fun times. Thank you for being with me and helping me with lots of things. Just, thank you for everything. (I'm writing this at 1am like it's sad hours yall I'm crying :')))

If you are ever feeling down, do not ever forget that, even if it's only me, I'll support you to the end of the world because you're just so amazing and fantastic. I love you and never let any hate that's thrown at you let you down because they aren't worth your time.

The people I'll be mentioning below are my dear friends or just people that I have been interacting with during the times I was online, little or not, I still consider you guys to be my friends (very self-proclaimed here sorry)and I'm still honoured by that fact.

@your-local-bnha-writer -Bean, you and your posts are always so wholesome and cute and I love them. Keep being amazing, and we may not interact much, but I still appreciate every little convos we had. Also, wish you luck on tpn, that shit hurted :')

@identifybby -Liaaaa, omg im so v v grateful we became friends. You've helped me with a tons of things and I can't thank you enough for everything you've done to me. You're just so amazing and thank you for always putting up with me, i love you sm.

@minteasketches -Mintea! You're such an amazing artist and I rlly enjoyed our conversations! You might not see this since you're off socmed but just wanna let u know that thank u for being my friends.

@yandere-of-your-dreams -Heyyy sis,, you're always such a sweet bean to me and showering me w love and i appreciate them, stay amazing and I'm sure you'll become an amazing writer.

@shotobabe -Ren, wifey, ilysm thank u for always being with me. You're such an awesome person and keep on being yourself. You're perfect and talented, don't let others tell you otherwise. AND while I'm gone, don't forget to drink lots of water okay? I won't be able to remind you while I'm on a hiatus, but please always remember to drink water. That'd be the first thing I'll ask you once I'm able to be online. And please try to eat more okay bb? I love u.

@takumipineapplexd -Taku! Amazing writer and amazing editor, yes I'm talking about you. You're amazing and keep on making cursed content and being crackhead, i love them.

@bnhabadass -We might not talk much, but I just want to let you know that you're so amazing and I look up to u v much. Literally had a heart attack when u commented on angel wings lmao.

@tomomoni -Mon, love, soft bean, I LOVE U. You've always been so wholesome and cute to every one of your followers and seeing ur interactions literally heals my heart. Your art is amazing so continue being amazing ilysm thank u for being an amazing advisor and listener, I'm v grateful for that. You have no idea how blessed I am to have you as a friend. Meeting you through turn on your airdrop's fanart was F A T E.

@kamabukokompachiro -First time u asked my permission to read my fanfic, I legit teared up. Thank u sm for asking, I couldn't be happier to know that my fic is worthy to be read over for a yt channel. Keep on being amazing and ily.

@kaminii -Kamiiiii, sweet child, you're always so matured and calm and I really adore and respect that part of you (unlike me im v childish and rash) You're an amazing writer and editor and ur aesthetic? 100/10. Love it. You're so talented despite being so young and I'm just, WOW. Ily and thank u for being friends w me. And please fix your sleeping schedule bb. It's rlly not good for your health, like please? Ily.

@katsucutie -I love you and your writing so v much, and I rlly enjoyed talking to you, discussing about Burn Book was rlly fun. I might not be able to know the ending since im gonna go on a hiatus but I'll be sure to catch up to it once im back. Keep being amazing and awesome.

@isolshi -CHERIE, I LOVE YOU AND YOU'RE AMAZING. Don't be so insecure about your writing. They're amazing. And you're also one of the sweetest and cute person I've met here. I always love teasing you cause your reaction is always so funny and cute. Keep being awesome. And please, please, please get enough sleep and drink LOTS of water. I legit would cry if you don't drink more water cher.

@mirakeul -BIANCAAAAA LOVE YOU'RE SO AMAZING AND SWEET LiKE--- please, I love talking to you and thank you so much for always reminding me to eat. Your calligraphy and handwriting are awesome, shshh i don't take criticism. Never stop writing, I love them. And please never forget I love you and you're my best friend okay?

@roxybefab -You've always been the first to ask me to be on my taglist and I'm so v happy because of that. Thank you for everything, and keep on being awesome. You can do this, ily.

@princessofdawn718 -Talking to you about Hamefura has been so fun! I haven't talked w many ppl about isekai so im rlly glad I could talk about them w you. Katarina x nicol ftw! Thanks for talking to me, it was such a pleasure rlly.

@softkodzuken -Maam your writing is A M A Z I N G. I love anon sm and you're rlly so sweet for always replying to every single comment on them. Don't be so insecure about them, they're amazing and i will always stand by that point. Wishing you the best of luck for Undercover!

@lolitsleia -Your art is *chef's kiss* i love them so much, I still can't believe you hadn't had more recognition like why?? Ur oc alex is the cutest thing ever and i love her. Thank you again for drawing Yuki. She looked really beautiful and cute in your drawing.

@samanthaa-leanne -We may not talk much, but when you first followed me back, my heart goes B O O M. You're so amazing and keep being like that. And uh,, good luck with Violet Evergarden if you ever plan to watch it. Prepare a couple of tissue boxes....or dozens.

@miyumtwins -Fellow android users! I first saw you through Bean's post about a tag game and i was like *gasp* another androiders..! I swear that one time i was interacting w you, I didn't actually meant to go off anon,, yes im dumb lmao. Anyways, you're rlly amazing and I'm rlly honoured to be followed by you.

@kawasuno -Your smau? 100/10. Your sense of humour 100/10. They're just so perfect *chef's kiss* I love every one of your updates and they always managed to put a smile on my face, i was like, how did you do that? My sense of humour is nonexistant, teach me your ways sensei. But anyways, you're rlly amazing and awesome. Keep up w that.

@kukusbabe -Tsu, I've never said this, but it's you. It's always been you all along. What i mean is, I've followed you first (i knew u through zara's flopping server yeah!) And when i looked at my dash and saw all your interactions w your moots, despite me haven't legally started haikyuu yet, i decided to follow all of them, soooo if it's not for you, we may not have met each other. Everyone in the kita family, Tsu is the MVP here muah. Also your aesthethic and writing and everything is so kajsjhendnd amazing i LOvE---

@iwaixiumi -King Nami, you're so awesome and amazing,, and I'm really glad to be able to interact w you. All those songs you recommend? Yeah, I'm going to listen and love all of them, thank u so much for the recs. Keep being amazing and to everyone reading this, PLEASE INTERACT WITH KING NAMI MORE SHE DOESN'T BITE---

@shoutodoki -Hello, you're so amazing and talented and im just,,, kekkdjfjdj when you followed me--- and when u figured out i was the anon talking about oboro i was OAKSJEJDDJ please, i was so honoured u know, like ???? Anyways, keep on writing what you love and your art maam? THEY'RE AMAZING LIKE BOTH YOUR ART AND WRITING IS SO KAJSJDJDN pliS im so v honoured to be able to talk to you.

@lisarillia -Please excuse me while I go shout in the corner of how much i LOVE your arts. They're amazing and being able to talk to you was a real pleasure. Keep on doing what you love. They'll be amazing no matter what i swear.

@cutiedrawsbnha -Cutie, honey, you're amazing and your art is so cute! Don't let what haters said get to you. You're going to grow into an amazing artist. If you give in and listen to what they said, you're going to end up like what they said so ignore them honey! I believe in you so keep shipping izuocha, todomomo, and kamijirou and making arts. Lotsa love!

@lilikags -Heeyyyy you sweet cute innocent bean! Don't ever stop writing what you love, you'll grow into a big blog soon enough, before you know it. Just keep making what you love, and as time pass by, I'm sure there will be many people who will find appreciate everything you do. I'm always supporting you.

@baeshijima -SOPHHHHH YOU SWEET CUTE CINNAMON ROLL WAKATOSHI'S WIFE EYE--- You have NO idea how much i love you,, you're so sweet and I honestly don't know what did i do to deserve you. Srsly you're a blessing to me. Thank you for the sweet daily reminder in my inbox, i love each and every one of them. Keep being so cute and wholesome, love you.

@shinsuque -ANAAAAA Thanks again for the Bakugou's memes! I may not be able to do it before i go on a hiatus though *sobbing* Keep being so awesome! I love seeing all your interactions and you're so amazing i honestly don't know why you followed me----

@semiluvr -LYDIA *SOBBING* THANK YOU SO SO MUCH FOR INVITING ME TO THE KITA FAMILY. Even though we've known each other in less than a week, it already felt like I had known you guys for so long like whotttt. Keep being an amazing and sweet person ily muah

@dumbass-lev -MOMMY, MUI, ILY THANK U FOR ALWAYS BEING SO SWEET YOU'RE AMAZING,,, u have no idea how happy (and also flustered) I am when i saw you asking you want to adopt me like,,, whot I've never been asked to be adopted online b4 so you asking that was a big surprise to me and just,,, remember that i love you and you're an amazing mommy. Hope i wasn't too much too handle as your child lol and thank u, for asking to invite me to the server. It has been a real pleasure to me to be there.

@pudding-head-kenma -DANIE!! We haven't talked much and I've only known you for a short time but I really love your detailed analysis. They're amazing and you're amazing. Thank you for being so sweet and cute. Ily.

@/🦋 nonoi -🦋 NONOIIII!!! IF YOU'RE SEEING THIS, I JUST WANNA TELL YOU THANK YOU FOR BEING MY EMOJI ANON! I love you you're so sweet and bb please please please don't forget me id cry,,,

@astereim -Rein!!! I know we just talked and all but you seem to be a reaally cool and amazing person,, we might not be able to interact much since I need to go prepare things b4 i go on my hiatus though, but just wanna let u know that ily!

@tokoyamis-luv -please don't come for my neck i haven't been active on the server Lol but anyways, zara, you're amazing and your simping for Kurapika is always fun to watxh. Also all the lin manuel edits are *chef's kiss* we may not talk much but i was rlly honoured to be able to interact w you, even a little bit.

@engel-hageshii - YOU, MAAM are a literal angel, and your comments on my fics always managed to make me smile so much. I love you, please never stop being such a sweetheart.

@laylahoran -I've always loved and appreciate every comments you make. I'm v happy I was able to create a content that you can love. You and engel has been some of my firsts followers and I'm really blessed to have you two.

@oyasenpai -Diemmy! You're so sweet and cute and seeing your interaction w my moots (kami) was what made me follow you. Don't let what others said bring you down, okay? Just do what you want because there're always many people supporting you for it.

Special message to the kita family server;

Meanwhile while you guys were talking about me there, I was just innocently scrolling through Tumblr, not knowing what kind of fate I'll be receiving 👁👄👁 No wonder I was sneezing so much 🤧🤧🤧

So, I was just scrolling through the pinned messages and I saw tsu said "mui: can we invite hikari? Everyone here: kakskejdjdjdn" and i was just like,,, ??????? I wasn't expecting u guys to have that kind of reaction i--- yall have no idea how much i was grinning while I scroll through those messages. Thank you so much for inviting and accepting me, it's really fun to be with you guys and your crackhead energy 🥰🥰 Thank you to mui for suggesting you had no idea I was really really happy. 😭 Y'all are so amazing and sweet and cute and beautiful kakjdjdd

To all of my dear friends that I've mentioned above, I LOVE YOU LOTS YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW GRATEFUL I AM TO MET YOU GUYS. Quarantine time has been stressful for a lot of people, and Tumblr can sometimes (a lot of times) be kinda whack but I was really happy to met you guys during my time here. Our time together may have been short, but i feel like we've known each other for more than a year, no caps. I love you all very very much. Thank you for talking to me and befriending me. Remember to get enough sleep, drink lots of water, stay safe and healthy, eat enough meals and, take care of yourself. I love you guys.

And lastly, to everyone reading this, whether i know you or not, or interacted with you or not, or follow you or not, or you follow me or not, just REMEMBER that you are worth it and I love you. Keep on being awesome, and always remember to smile, laugh and live. Don't forget to always DRINK LOTS OF WATER, GET ENOUGH SLEEP, and EAT ENOUGH MEALS.

Signing off,

Hikari.

[punkscowardschampions]

Jac & Amelia

Jac: How was your first day? Amelia: 🥱😴 Amelia: What about you? Jac: Oh dear, it was a lot more observing rather than doing I suppose, but I kind of expected that, if you want to get experience somewhere that isn't willing to just let anyone come in and do a shift so Jac: You'll never guess who was on my placement too though Amelia: Connor following you there wouldn't surprise me Amelia: he can't take a hint Jac: Thankfully not Jac: Swerving him during school is basically an extra-curricular Jac: I suppose it isn't all that surprising when you think about it, but I still was taken aback by the turn of events Amelia: thrill me Amelia: who is it? Jac: Savannah Moore Amelia: oh god, that sucks Amelia: if you don't wanna change placements, we'll make her Amelia: it'll be okay Jac: That's the surprising thing Jac: she was like, a different person Amelia: like really fake, you mean? Jac: No, like, a normal person Jac: maybe because she was away from her friends, her audience, or I don't know Jac: but she was just getting on with her work too, being chill about the whole thing Amelia: 🤔 suspicious Jac: Well, you can't say anything Jac: but why would you Jac: she's having like, a really hard time at home right now, she was a bit upset at one point Jac: it just broke the ice, and it makes a lot of things make sense Amelia: did it or did she throw you off with a convincing 😥💔 story? Jac: She was having a breakdown in the toilets basically Jac: I don't think she wanted anyone to see that, least of all me Jac: we knew her dad was like A LOT anyway, it tracks Amelia: it's Savannah, she wants everyone to see everything, especially you Jac: Come on, what would she even get out of tricking me with a sobstory Jac: bar work experience not being a total drama, which surely she'd love more, by that logic? Amelia: your attention Jac: 🤔🤔 I just don't see it this time Jac: I can't explain how sincere it was, what she said Jac: it definitely wasn't made up, at any rate Amelia: if you believe her, I believe you Jac: Like, I'm not saying we were wrong Jac: but too harsh, maybe Jac: we don't need to waste any energy on being her enemy or whatever Jac: not that we were ever THAT childish but, she really isn't that bad Amelia: I can be a bit harsh Jac: You're a softie, really Jac: but I'm not going to spill all your secrets to her Amelia: it's not a secret that I missed you today Jac: Was it seriously that boring? 😞 Jac: Who are you with again, anyone not awful? Amelia: yeah Amelia: my 🧠 has turned to mush Amelia: they put with with Valentina Hernández, I've had detention with her before Jac: You poor thing Jac: we'll have to do something fun when this is over, if you're going to hate it so much Jac: and I'll keep to a minimum how much I'm enjoying getting some industry experience 🤐 Jac: Oh yeah, she's cute Jac: I don't have many classes with her, but I know who you mean Amelia: she said I look like her ex, do you think that means she hates me or I'm her eye candy of choice for the next week? Amelia: can't we do something fun tonight!? Jac: How weird Jac: sounds like a really bad pickup-line a 40-year-old man would use Jac: Guess you'll see what she meant Jac: That's not going to make your early start tomorrow any easier, is it Amelia: I'm already planning to sleep through my alarm Amelia: and Is is up for it Jac: I'm totally wiped Jac: and trying to save you from yourself 😉 Jac: Is can make her own poor choices Amelia: vodka redbulls were invented to change wiped to wired Amelia: you know she'll get drunk and throw herself at some boy, that's what you'll be saving me from Amelia: dark corners are no fun when I'm being left in them on my own Jac: so I can be hungover tomorrow Jac: if she is tricking me, I'm going to need ALL my wits about me Jac: maybe Val will come and keep you company Amelia: and if she's as nice as you say, she can pick up the slack Amelia: please come Jac: Are we talking about a house party or a club or what, you've not even told me 😅 Jac: also, you know I don't want to drop anything, I need to ace this Amelia: it's a club you'll love Amelia: so you won't have to drink loads to have fun anyway Jac: If Is or any of her conquests have picked it I SO doubt that 😏 Amelia: I picked it in case you needed cheering up but it works for a pat on the back too Jac: Okay, I'll see what the parents say Amelia: if they look like they're leaning towards no, it could've been me having a breakdown in the toilets Jac: I'll tell them you'll be heartbroken Amelia: the truth works too Jac: they're not that understanding so I wouldn't hold your breath Jac: I'll corner one of them when they get in though Amelia: more understanding than mine, not to be Savannah-ish about it Jac: I assume you will be sneaking out, as per Jac: or staying over one of ours to catch up with your work Amelia: 😏 Jac: 🙄 how you ever get away with it when your mother knows everything about everyone is beyond me Jac: if you applied yourself, you could be seriously impressive Amelia: could be? Amelia: you just said I am Amelia: she knows everything about me that I want her to know Jac: duh Jac: gotta give you something to aim for though Amelia: oooh a challenge Jac: I know how you feel about them Amelia: unless it's going to be something about applying myself this week Jac: am I a teacher? Amelia: you've taught me loads like why would I waste my energy buckling down with Valentina 📠 when I could spend it doing something that isn't 🥱😴 with you Jac: You have a point Jac: or, I do? 😂 Jac: and I can come out for a while, but I need to be home to get at least 5 hours sleep minimum Amelia: can I stay or does Jude still need 15 hours minimum? Jac: if you keep the noise down and promise to talk less than her Amelia: I'll be so 🤫🤐 Jac: another person at mine in the AM makes no odds Jac: but I will be leaving extra early, FYI Amelia: why? Jac: Mainly because I want to get there on time Jac: but also because Savannah said she'd bring breakfast, as I listened to her when she was upset today so Amelia: bribery is her style 🤑 Jac: I guess so Jac: but it'd be rude of me not to accept any coffee or pastries she wants to throw my way Amelia: what if they're toxic Jac: You're giving her too much credit now Jac: she isn't going to have the time to poison them AND not be late Amelia: she's probably baking them right now, what else are her and her invisible mum going to do to bond? Jac: You're the one that takes home ec 🍳 Amelia: yeah and if you wanted me to kill her, all you had to do was ask Jac: Feel free to note my silence any time you like 😏 Jac: What are you wearing, how smart/casual is this place? Amelia: [pictures of potential outfits on the bed so she can see the vibe] Amelia: which one will you break your vow of silence for? Jac: You know I love that colour [hi khaki moment] Amelia: 😉 Amelia: if you want to know what Is is wearing, the group chat is full of her maybes Jac: I am purposely ignoring that notification 🙄😑 Jac: like yeah, I'm probably going to wear my black tank dress again but the difference is, I'm not pretending it's getting any crazier Amelia: it got her to shut up about all the 'hotties' at the sports centre that she got to 'service' today Amelia: 😣 Jac: Ew Jac: she's so graphic sometimes Jac: it's a good thing she has her reputation tbh if those are her lines Amelia: this is before a drink too Amelia: I need you, I wasn't even laying it on thick Jac: God, she is a lot Jac: hopefully one of them asks her out, she's at least less gross when she's in a relationship Amelia: 🤞 Jac: I do need to plan my outfits for the rest of work experience though Amelia: god, I can imagine what Savannah looked like today Jac: Right? Jac: She was so on point Amelia: for a stepford wife Amelia: it's unsettling Amelia: her mum probably stays invisible because she takes the clothes off her back Jac: Come on, she looks good Amelia: so would I in head to toe chanel Jac: Exactly Jac: so I need to keep up so I don't look like a scrub Amelia: you don't have to try as hard as her, that's the difference Amelia: you actually look good Amelia: not just expensive Jac: You're biased but I love you for it Amelia: you could ask anyone in our year and they'd tell you the same thing Amelia: even her boyfriend would probably want to agree with me Jac: I doubt his eyes ever leave her, they're totally inseparable aren't they Amelia: it sounds like you'll be getting all the gossip Amelia: you'll be able to tell me everything by Friday Jac: not that that has any real use now Amelia: maybe or maybe not Jac: ?? Amelia: we've got loads of school left, you can't say never Amelia: today could've been a weird fluke Jac: Nah, it was a total ceasefire if nothing else Jac: it's not like a feud Jac: Oh my God, what is that skirt she just posted Amelia: okay Amelia: 😳 on her behalf Jac: should I tell her to wear it? Amelia: yeah 😂 Jac: 😏 Amelia: what are you wearing though? Jac: my lbd 😂 Jac: I don't know if it's classic or predictable but if nothing else, I can say this was short notice Amelia: if I couldn't predict you I'd be worried Jac: but you love a challenge 🤔 Amelia: but I love the way things are Jac: see, so soft and soppy Jac: nothing has changed yet Jac: still think transition year is pointless 🤷 Amelia: your 🧠 didn't turn to mush Jac: it might Jac: I just wanna pick all our new classes and get started Jac: but it is cool we get to do stuff like this, I suppose Amelia: you just want to find out if Savannah will be in every single class again Jac: 🙄 Amelia: [like I'm gonna say she was joking then but now the posts have appeared so it's like oh you actually do and she leaves her on read which I cannot overstate how much that would NEVER happen because she always answers immediately no matter what] Jac: Hello? Jac: are you picking me up? Amelia: are you ready? Jac: you aren't talking to Isabelle Jac: of course I am Amelia: nothing she's saying needs a reply Jac: 'Fashionably' late is her vibe Amelia: yeah I know, Is hasn't changed since I met her Jac: Like that's a good thing? Amelia: I wouldn't go as far as to call her perfect or anything Amelia: but at least I get her Jac: Funny, Meels Amelia: like totally weird, that kind of funny Jac: You are being weird Amelia: that isn't even a worthy deflection Jac: What do you wanna say? Jac: It's just a post Amelia: I've never heard you describe anything as perfect, what are you saying? Jac: Did you see her post? Amelia: yeah, it's obvious why you're tired Amelia: I was exhausted reading it Jac: Well I couldn't just say nothing in return, could I Amelia: I never caption anything, it's easy Jac: you're a girl of few words Amelia: why does she think she knows you on such a 'deep level' now? Amelia: you said she was the one who overshared Jac: You know her friends Jac: Paige G and Becca Jac: I doubt they do 'deep' Jac: it's just in comparison Amelia: I know you, there's things you aren't telling me Jac: like what, I told her all my secrets Jac: if you know me then you know there's no way that's true Amelia: then you're keeping hers Jac: No I'm not, I told you, it's her home life Jac: and I'm sure she doesn't want everyone to know so I shouldn't but I did Amelia: okay Jac: You don't like her, you don't have to Jac: but don't be off with me Amelia: neither did you yesterday Amelia: but now you're going to [whatever that market location was] together Jac: She needed cheering up Jac: and I was going to go anyway, my last bouquet was dead Jac: it's not a big deal Amelia: it was so chill you weren't going to say anything before she outted you with a post Amelia: obviously Jac: I didn't say anything 'cos I didn't think you'd be bothered Jac: it's not your thing Amelia: right, why would it be news that you've changed your entire POV on Savannah Moore Jac: Well I told you about that Jac: scroll up Amelia: it's one thing putting up with someone during work experience, which is what you said Amelia: do you see me taking Valentina out when we're allowed to leave? No, because it'd be totally weird Jac: Why would that be weird? Amelia: we're not friends, I barely know her Jac: you're free to get to know her Jac: you may as well Jac: like I said, it's totally childish having some kind of grudge against her Amelia: it's too late to invite them both Jac: so you want to? Amelia: no, but you think I'm being childish Jac: I think it would be childish for me to decline this peace offering Jac: if it makes life easier, it'd be stupid not to Amelia: I don't see how it'll make anything easier if she's going to be that extra Amelia: Is is already a lot Jac: I can deal with them both Amelia: okay Jac: You don't need to be jealous Amelia: of her? oh please Jac: right Amelia: she's not the only one who has had a bad day, that's all Jac: what's wrong? Amelia: I got in trouble, they might not even have me back tomorrow Jac: What did you do? Amelia: nothing! It wasn't my fault Jac: Alright, what happened then Amelia: I didn't think it would crash the whole system, I was just trying to get done quicker Jac: Oh God Meels Amelia: it would've been impressive if it had worked Jac: they can't get rid of you for a mistake Jac: just be really, really sorry, yeah Amelia: I am sorry, it was really 😳 Jac: I bet Jac: you won't do it again Jac: did she tell you to Amelia: who would tell me to do that Jac: You said she was your detention buddy Amelia: no I didn't, I said I've seen her there before Amelia: everyone gets detention except you and Savannah Jac: Hardly Jac: well, you could say it was her idea Amelia: you've been having a go at me for being childish Jac: you'll be in so much shit if they refuse to have you back Amelia: I'll go work with my dad or something, it'll be even more boring but it's only a week anyway Jac: it'll still reflect really badly on you Jac: it's not childish, it's practical Amelia: it was an accident, I won't be the only one who's done something stupid Jac: Yeah, but you said they were arsey about it so Jac: just saying Amelia: maybe I was a bit defensive Amelia: don't worry about it Jac: Hmm Amelia: I'll smooth it over Jac: Good luck then Amelia: trust me Jac: You always end up alright Amelia: you're my lucky charm Amelia: I just ask myself wwjd Jac: You're such a loser 😏 Amelia: you're so cruel to me 💔 Jac: You love it Amelia: I love you Jac: I love you too Amelia: are you coming out or am I coming in? Jac: You'll just get waylaid by dogs and siblings Jac: be right out Amelia: the hair isn't an accessory I should wear to the club Jac: I've not done anything with mine, don't judge Amelia: it always looks perfect whatever you do or don't do Jac: 😘 Amelia: if you're going to use that word, at least throw it in the right direction Jac: oh yeah, that's a caption I wanna write 😂 Amelia: I'll write it for you, if anything's worth breaking the rules for Jac: You want to compete with Savannah's word count? Amelia: I don't want to, but I will if I have to Jac: I'm not that desperate for validation, you're okay Amelia: Isabelle meanwhile Amelia: has NOT shut up Jac: It's a wonder anyone is getting past her on reception Amelia: 😂 Jac: maybe she should ask if she can work the door when she finally shows Jac: [you go out now though gal, don't need to be messing about] Amelia: [go forth and be messy gays at this club instead] Jac: [no wonder, the tension henny] Amelia: [all the useless lesbian awards to amelia for not making a move tonight] Jac: [blink and you miss it babe] Amelia: [literally does not think she's running out of time, soz gal] Jac: [oh it's sad[ Amelia: [it is, we've been doing this dance for years ladies, obvs we think we'll just keep doing it until uni forces us to stop and do something else and at that point that's years away still] Jac: [when you think you got another three years to have gay angst and drama, nay nay] Amelia: [mhmm] Jac: [well, a different kind of angst and drama will be happening but nobody is loving that Amelia: [except me haha]