#but tomu has no eyebrows!!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

plush-rabbit · 4 years ago

Text

Can We Kiss?

Warnings: 18+, Smut

Word Count: 7.8K

A/N: Epilogue to Can I Ask You Something?

There’s always been silence between the two of you, awkward, full of tension, comfortable ones even, and now the silence that resonates between the two of you is relaxed, you both don’t have anything to hide, or at least you have nothing to hide, you still give him a pass if he rather not share the details of what is no doubt his gritty and miserable backstory. You’re on your couch, laying next to each other, he’s on his phone and you’re resting next to him, head on chest while a video plays on your laptop and it’s safe to say, it’s gone unnoticed, fallen victim to background noise as you take solace in his presence. You can lay on him and touch him, he can have his hand on your back and press his hand deeper into you when you shift.

“Do you like it here?” His voice is gentle, the hand on your back stroking you gently.

You look up at him, your brows furrowing in confusion. “Like in Japan?”

“No dumbass,” he flicks your forehead, “your apartment.”

You rub your forehead and scowl at him. “First of all, ouch. Second of all, you have to be specific about stuff. And finally,” you scoot closer to him, draping a leg over his, “yes. I have a good walking distance to most places and," you tap a finger against the tip of his nose and give him a syrupy smile, "it’s where we met,” you lilt with an overly sweet voice, tiling your head.

“I’m serious,” he mumbles, shifting around wiggling his arm that is around you.

You sigh and lift your body. “I am too. I like this apartment,” you remove your leg from his lap and sit criss cross. “What’s with the question?”

He turns to you and his gaze has darkened. “I have to leave,” his fingers drum on his thigh, “for a couple of months.”

“Leave?” Your eyes widen.

“I have to do something important.” He looks away from you and shifts to copy your pose.

“Well we can still chat right?” You play with your hands, your heart quickening its pace. “We can talk and-”

“Uh, no.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I have to be gone for a few bit.”

“Oh,” you frown and your shoulder slump.

“Don’t cry.”

“I’m not,” you sniff.

He sighs and lets his head hang. “Look, I asked because I won’t be here to protect you and I have money now so I can move you somewhere safer.”

"Oh, because you protected me before?" You try to joke, the aching feeling in your chest still prominent.

He rolls his eyes. "I've warned you before at least."

"Im still conflicted about that."

"I know." He moves to kiss your cheek, a cheap trick to get you to calm down and not focus on him and his life outside of you.

“I like it here,” you cross your arms and bite your bottom lip. “I don’t want to move.”

“It’s not safe for you here. Just- It’ll only be for a bit. Just to keep you safe,” he grabs onto your shoulders and his gaze unrelenting. “I can’t have people around here twenty-four-seven. It’ll draw too much suspicion.”

“Tomura,” you grab his hands and place them in between the two of you, “I like it here. You and I are both careful when we meet, nothing is going to happen.”

He shakes his head and turns his head to watch the video that plays. Hands slip out of yours and one hovers over the keyboard and taps the space bar, the video is paused and he refuses to meet your gaze, his back hunched over and hands interlocked with each other.

He jumps when you touch his shoulder but he doesn’t look at you. “I’m going to be okay,” your squeeze tightens trying to reassure him. “Nothing is going to happen to me. You’ll only be gone for a few months. I’ll be okay.”

“Can you promise me that?”

“Can you promise me you won’t die?”

He lets out a long exhale and when he rises, his face is devoid of emotion. “I can move you somewhere safe-”

“I’m not moving Tomura.” You pout when he shrugs his shoulders, throwing your hand off of him, “Don’t be mad.”

"I'm not mad," he says through clenched teeth, "I'm just frustrated. I need to protect you," his brow bone furrows and he shakes his head, "I need to know you're going to be all right."

"As long as you," you tap a finger against his chest, "don't do anything too reckless, I promise I'll be fine." When he doesn’t answer you sigh and shuffle closer to him. “How about this,” you place a hand on his knee, “at the first sign of trouble, I’ll take your offer- I’ll move as long as it’s still nearby. You trust the people you work with right? The ones who have been with you since you were known as the League of Villains. Once I get hurt or something happens too close for comfort while you’re,” you swallow the lump in your throat, “gone, you tell them to just move me elsewhere. And I’ll go.”

His hand covers yours and you move it until it covers his and your fingers drum against the brace. “You promise?”

“Pinky promise.” You hold your pinky up with a side grin.

As he scoffs, a smile graces his features and he reluctantly holds a pinky up. “Virtual or actual?”

“Whichever you’re more comfortable with.”

His pinky curls around yours tightly and he lets it linger. “I’ll appoint somebody. First sign of trouble, you’re moving- somewhere nearby, I know,” he adds when you give him a look.

You give him a curt nod and scoot closer to him. “Hey Tomura?”

He lets your pinky go and his eyes widen a fraction. “What is it?”

“Um, since we’re dating, do you think we could,” your face flushes and you turn away from him, “um, could we-”

“Come on, out with it.”

“Can we kiss?”

It’s tense for a minute where you sit, biting the inside of your cheek, and then he presses his chapped lips against yours. Teeth clash against each other and you’re taken aback, your hands curled at your sides and when he softens his touch, you sigh against him and lean towards him. Your hands move slowly and unsurely as they rest against his back. “Tomu-kun,” you whine against his lips.

He sighs at the affectionate nickname, his hands softening around you, gently picking up your shirt and shuddering against you when his skin makes contact with yours.

"Always so needy," you mumble against his lips, your hands coming up to play with his hair, tugging in it softly and twirling loose strands.

He sighs and his nails curl on your skin, a chuckle breaking the kiss when you squirm and give a taut pat on his back. “You started it,” he mumbles against your lips, letting his hand inch farther up your shirt, fingers light and tickling at your skin.

Goosebumps rise where his touch marked you. His touch sears your skin, burning and lighting a flame inside of your belly where his hesitant hands slide to the curve of your tummy, your shirt rising in response. You inch closer to him, gasping when his hand slips further upward and your leg nudges against his, your hands slipping from the nape of his neck to the bottom on his shirt in a single glide, your hands toying with the hem and when the cool air meets his skin he flinches and his lips break from yours.

A sharp gasp leaves your lips and you’re suddenly pulled back into reality where your laptop screen grows dim and the birds outside chirp next to the feeder. You stare at him and slowly remove your hands, his following in suit and your body still burns where his touch rested, the rest of you cold and restless. You open your mouth and he pinches your bottom lip between two fingers and tugs on it. The action makes you pause and pull your hands away and they hover over the arm that is holding your lip.

"Tomura?" He doesn't respond, he only continues to look at your lip. "It stings," you murmur. He promptly lets go, muttering an apology. Your tongue swipes over the already dulling pain. "What was that about?" You question.

"Nothing," he murmurs, leaning back on the couch, closing his eyes.

"Can I pinch your lips then?"

"Why?"

"Just because," you shrug.

"That's-" His mouth pulls into a line and he sticks his tongue out at you.

You raise an eyebrow. "Yeah, I thought so," you nudge him with your elbow, "So what was that about?"

His face pulls into a grimace and from the neck up a shade a red flares across his skin. "I uh," his hand moves back to scratch at the back of his neck, "fuck," he hisses out. His hand jerks and you see his arm tense.

Your eyes go wide and you stand on your needs and clutch his arm. "Okay! I'm sorry for teasing!" You pull his arm away with ease. "I-"

"It's not that," he grumbles, allowing you to keep his arm in your grasp.

"Then what is it?"

"It's," he ducks his head and you see a bright red decorate the tip of his ears, "embarrassing."

You pout and slide your hands down his arms and grip his hand. "I'm not going to make fun of you if that's what you're worried about," you say in a quiet voice.

He's silent for a long time as his eyes never leave your face. He rises with a sigh and twists his back. His steps are slow as he walks around the couch and down the living room, turning around a corner and you hear him call out, "I'm going to your room."

Your eyes go wide and your mouth pulls itself into a thin line. You stand up from the couch, hurrying your steps to catch up to him. You call out to him again, asking a simple question- why? He doesn't respond and you click your tongue.

"I'm tired," he says, voice distant.

When you enter the room, he's sitting on your bed, clutching a pillow on his lap. You walk quietly towards him, taking a seat next to him. His legs are spread and you spread your own, nudging his knee a bit. A ghost of a smile appears on his face before fading.

"Tomura, you have to tell me what's going on," you place a hand on his knee and move your thumb in little circles when his leg jerks. You suck in a breath and attempt to move your hand when his own rests on top of you. "I know you said you had to go, but" you clench your hands, "you aren't, ya know? Are… Are you leaving leaving?" Your throat feels constricted and shoulder hunch towards each other.

"No," he responds quickly, "of course not."

Your shoulders relax and you can feel yourself be able to breathe again. "So what is it?"

He scoots himself further onto your bed, swinging his legs carefully as he lays down in the bed, the pillow still catches between his hands.

"I… like you."

You chuckle and lay next to him on your side. "I figured." You smile when he turns his head away from you, face scrunched and flaring. "If it makes you feel better, I like you too." You lean over and peck his cheek, giving him a kittenish smile when he looks back at you. "So what's up?" You ask, leaning back to your original position.

He leans up on his elbows and turns to look at you, strands of silvery hair obscuring part of his face. "I was wondering something the other day," he trails off, his lips twitching and face taking on a darker shade of red. You nod, attention fully on him. "I was wondering if," he curses under his breath and looks away, "you've already had sex," he grumbles out, hands digging harshly into your pillow.

Your eyes widen and your face flushes with a darker color. "Oh," you whisper, stunned at the sudden question.

"Forget it," he mumbles, lying down on the bed, eyes squeezed shut.

You take a shaking breath and your heart beats rapidly as you answer his question, your mouth suddenly dry as you look to the side hoping to find a water bottle left from overnight but you find nothing there.

"Oh," he replies, turning his head to look at you.

You nod and swallow the lump in your throat. "Have you?"

He shakes his head. "Never had the chance to," he tells you as he takes a shuddering breath.

"Did you want to?" You ask. "With me?" You clarify, nervously gnawing on your lip.

"Are you willing?"

"I want you to ask me properly."

"You're horrible."

"I guess you don't want to. That's fine. I should get started on my laundry anyways."

You make a move to get up from the bed when his hand clamps around your wrist. "Did you want me to do your laundry, Tomura?" You coo, your tone playful and teasing.

"You're lucky you mean something to me," he tells you. He takes a deep breath and sighs. The bed creaks under him as he shifts on the bed. "Can we have-"

You cut him off with a kiss, he gasps in shock and you smile against him. "Yeah, we can," you murmur, pushing yourself closer to him, letting out a content sigh when his hands grip your sides. You crawl to the middle of the bed, your legs bent and hands splayed next to you. “How do you want to start?”

“Eager, aren’t you?” He throws his legs on the bed and crawls above you. His movements are precise and quick, the smile on the lips and gleam in his eyes are the only thing betraying that he’s as excited as you are for this.

He crawls on top of you, your legs sliding down and grazing the fabric of his shirt that falls from him. He tilts his head and his mouth is hot against yours, his hands coming above yours and drawing lazy circles into your skin and suddenly it feels all too real. You press your palms against his chest and push away, you mumble a protest against his lips and he pulls away, a dejected look on his face appearing for a moment before replaced by curiosity.

“What is it?” he asks, the hands that overlapped yours, pulling away and turning into fists.

“I just- Are we really doing this?”

“Only if you want.”

“I do, but I just… It makes it all too real,” you frown and lay your back on your bed. “We’re going to,” you don’t want to be crass about the action but you don’t want to refer it to something too lovey for fear that he might cringe away, “you know-”

“Fuck?”

“Tomura,” you groan, “don’t be so crude.” You turn your head and narrow your eyes at the wall. “But yes. We’re going to and then you’re going to leave. It’s like a shitty version of a one night stand.”

“I’m coming back. I promise.”

“But not soon enough,” you mumble. “I don’t want to just do this and have you leave for like ever.”

“What? Afraid you’ll want more while I’m gone?”

You shake your head and laugh. “Funny. Real funny.” You sigh and the smile falls. “I’m going to miss you.”

“If you don’t want to then I-”

“I do. I want to have sex with you,” your hands rest over your heart and you let out a shaky breath, “but afterwards you’ll be gone right? That’s why you told me this? Because it’s happening soon?” You turn your head and look back at him. He nods in response and you sigh.

"I'll be back before you know it," he sighs, rolling his neck and he lets his head hang; his hair cascades down and creates a curtain between the two of you. "It won't be forever. Just a few months."

You bring your hands to cup his face and make him look you in the eyes. "What are you going to do?"

"You don't have to worry about that."

"Tomura-"

"It's for me. That's as much as you need to know."

"I don't like this." Your hands leave his face and rest flat on your stomach.

"I can't… Look. The less you know the better. But when I come back, it means I'll be closer-"

"Tomura?"

"What is it?"

"You're still going to be you when you come back right? You're still going to be Tomura?"

"Who else would I be?"

"I don't know. That's why I asked."

"I'm still going to be me. And you're going to be you."

You nod your head and press yourself deeper against the mattress. You stare at him and he stares back, crimson eyes that look at you with a softness and he leans into a hand, cupping his hand over yours.

"Tomu," you whisper, "I think I want to start now."

He nods and dips his head down, your hand curving over to the back of his head and gripping his silvery hair as he pulls you into a soft kiss, his tongue swiping over your bottom lip, dipping in hesitantly when you part your mouth, tugging on his hair and groaning when he presses himself closer to you.

Your name is muffled between the two mouths, his hand moves away from yours hand rests on the underside of your chest, the pads of his fingers, pressing into the soft part of your chest.

He pulls away, eyes half lidded and red eyes clouded over. "Where do you want to start?" He mumbles, eyes staring into yours and hand never leaving your chest.

"I could uh," a nervous smile creeps into your face and you turn your head, "blow you if you'd like." You hear him snicker and you want to curl in on yourself. "Tomura," you whine, your voice high and full of embarrassment.

"You're free to suck my dick. I'm not going to complain."

You throw an arm over your eyes and squeeze them shut. Your chest rises and falls heavy, a tight feeling in it that makes it hard to breathe. "You're still on top of me," you manage to make out, voice squeaking in the process.

His finger tickles the side of your face, gliding down your face resting on the corner of your lips. "Want me to get on my back?" His digit ghosts over your bottom lip. “Or I could stand? I’m sure both options would make you look hot.” You can hear the smile in his voice and the confidence that oozes out of him.

A nervous chuckle bubbles past your lips. "You're being awfully bold for your first time."

The bed creaks and the weight of him above you disappears, your chest still feels tight and you tense when he wraps his hand on your forearm and pulls it away from you. You slowly open your eyes and keep your gaze down, sucking in your bottom lip.

"I- and I'm being completely honest- think if you suck me off, you're going to die from embarrassment."

"It's not that," you whisper through clenched teeth. You rise and force yourself to look at him despite the flame on your face and the nervous shaking of your legs. "It's our first time together is all. I don't- I don't want to mess up. Especially if you're going to be gone after this." You tilt your head and rub your arms "I want it to be special."

He lays next to you, his hands resting above his stomach interlocked. He plays with the fabric, pinched between his fingers. "Special, huh?" He muses, eyes sparing you a glance before he turns away. "We just started dating-"

"And you're leaving," you place your hands above him and he sighs.

"You're nervous."

"You aren't?"

"Didn't say that."

You don’t answer for a moment, working up the courage to say the words, but they die in your throat and you can’t force yourself to say them even if you wanted to. You clear your throat and sit on your news staring at him as he gives you a quizzical look. "Can I-” the words get lost in your throat- “you know?" You gesture to his lower half and feel flames dance on your skin.

"Say it." He wants to see you squirm, you realize, with a skipping heart, he wants to hear the words leave your mouth and you’re uncertain why.

"You're awful," you conclude, accompanied by the roll of your eyes.

"Not the words." He holds your hand and you raise a brow at him. “Humor me.”

You stick your tongue out at him and squeeze your eyes shut. You take a deep breath and when you open your eyes, you walk on your knees to straddle him. "Tomura, can I suck your dick?"

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat, and he takes in a sharp breath. It happens in an instant, the red creeps up from his chest, and paints him in a beautiful shade. He opens his mouth and a squeak comes out and you smile at him. He snaps it shut and gestures to his pants, turning his head away. “Take them off.”

You grumble under your breath, your fingers shaky as they unbutton his pants, the zipping noise fills your ears and he laughs. It’s sharp and has a cackle to it but it’s his laugh and it sets off a warm feeling in your chest and raises himself on his arms.

“I have to make you work for it, you know.” He has this smug look on his face and helps you take his pants off, kicking them off to the side and now he lays in his boxers which tent. “Come on, you have to take something off too,” he jerks his leg, “I can’t be the only one.”

You look at him and repress a comment. “An eye for an eye,” you mutter, taking off your own pants and kicking them to the side where they join his in a lifeless pile.

You watch him breath for a second and nervously swallow. Your fingers hook in the waistband of his boxers and when you look up at him, he gives you a nod. The slide down his body and all too soon, he’s bare on your bed, with an erect member. He moves and you look at him; he tosses his shirt to the side and he pulls himself higher, his back against a pile of pillows and he watches you.

You frown. Your hand ghosts over his stomach, faded, white scars litter his body in different sizes and shapes. “You have so many scars,” you mutter. He doesn’t respond and when you look at him, his eyes are narrowed- they’re analyzing you. “Do they- Or did they hurt?”

“What do you think?” His voice is tight and cold.

“You’ve been through so much, haven’t you?” You whisper under your breath, your hands running over his stomach, feeling the difference of textures. “Oh Tomura,” you look up at him and your eyes grow glossy. “I wish we met sooner,” you bend your head down and press your lips against his stomach. They’re light and fleeting, a gentle brush of your lips ghost over his skin and when you pass over them, he can still feel the touch tickle at his skin. You press a kiss over a particular long scar and when you raise your head, you give him a soft smile and raise yourself back to your knees.

“I’m here now, okay?” Your hands glide over his stomach and rest back on your lap.

He swallows tightly and gives you a curt nod and you let out a shaky sigh. Your hands come to grab onto the hem of your shirt and then they’re covered by his.

“You took my pants off, I get to take your shirt off,” he reasons, nudging your hands away and you nod, too lost to even speak. He takes your shirt off, the pads of his fingers searing their mark on your skin. You two sit there, your heart beating in your chest at such a rapid pace you’re afraid you’ll bruise if possible. “Fuck, I always thought you were hot but I think I can cum if I just focused on your tits.”

“Tomura!” You slap his chest and cover your face with your hand, sure that you’re a flushed color.

“It’s true,” he shrugs, laying back down on the bed. “Anyways, let’s go.” He lays back on the bed and watches you with an amused expression.

“You can’t just be so vulgar!” Your hands place themselves on his thighs and they jump when you realize that he really is nude on your bed. You sigh and he spreads his legs, letting you situate yourself between him and grab his member in your hand. He’s hot, much hotter than you’d expect, and he feels hard, an actual hard feeling that feels all too invasive and real and when your fingers close around him, he twitches in your hand and you gasp.

“You have my dick in your hand, you can’t really expect me not to be vulgar.”

You don’t respond to him, your attention directed to his member which leaks pearls. You lower yourself and your breath is hot against him, and hesitantly, you lick his slit, the pearly beads fill your mouth with saltiness and leave a bitter taste. You scrunch your face and click your tongue. You think to yourself that the taste will go away as you get used to it. You choose not to look at him, insteading mumbling to his shaft that if anything happens, to just say stop and like you, he doesn’t respond.

You wrap your lips around his head, lightly sucking on the tip and letting your tongue swirl over, his taste filling your mouth with bitterness all over again. A shiver runs down from your spine and you lower your mouth on him. He groans lightly and grabs the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair and holding it tight. You let out a whine, your tongue flat against him, as you bob your head, a fist wraps around him and holds him tight, fingers lightly tapping him.

It's slow movements, your head bobbing gently while he tightens his grip on you, groaning when you lower your head too far and choke on him.

"Fuck," he breathes out, "do that again." His member twitches in your mouth, the saltiness once again filling your mouth and you glance up at him, eyes wide and mouth full of cock and he pushes on your head, urging you to go down.

You blink at him and then glance down to his member, your hand falls from him and rests on his thighs. You suck a deep breath through your nose and swallow. You hollow your cheeks and choke when he hits the back of your throat. He's large and expands in your mouth; you salivate around him, spittle pools in your mouth and you hold him there, tongue cradling his underside as tears brim your eyes.

"Look at you," he breathes out. "Mouth full of cock." He reaches over the action makes him go deeper in your throat, gagging around him and breathing harshly through your nose. He pats your cheek and you twitch at the action. "Your throat feels so tight. I know I said I could cum to your tits alone but fuck," he lowers himself back down and he tugs on your hair. "I think i could shoot down your throat right now." You whine at his words, your body trembling and hands squeezing him.

His name is muffled in your mouth, you rise from him and your spit drips from his member. You look up at him with slightly puffy lips and flushed cheeks, tears prick the corner of your eyes and he yanks on your hair. "Tomura," you mewl, pulling your lips into a pout.

"Come on, make me cum," he taps your head, "I want to see my cum pool in your mouth."

You nod shakily and reach your hand to cover his hand where it holds a hand full of your hair, a gentle tap is the only sigh you give and he responds with a soft "oh" and a tighter grip.

You breathe harshly as he controls you, moving your head up and down at a rapid pace, tears pooling in your eyes and sliding down. "Fucking hell," he breathes out when you choke in him. "Face fucking, huh? Never took you for the type." Harsh sounds fill the room as he grips you and guides you in his cock, your hands latched into his thighs as he uses your face to get himself off. "You're not swallowing, got it? I need to see you with your mouth full of my cum before you actually get to taste it." His words are mixed with groans, breathing ragged and choked. "I can't believe you're letting me do this. What a fucking slut." You whine around him, a heat beginning to burn in your lower belly. "Bet you'd let me do anything, huh? Cum in your face. Tits. Ass." He breathes harshly. "What about inside, huh?" You choke around him, drool sliding past your chin and dripping down in slow strands. "Seeing your cunt full of my cum-" he hiss through his teeth- "fuck, even the thought is enough to make me cum." He holds your head down, your moans muffled and hands digging into his skin that's decorated with pale scars. You breathe harshly through your nose. A bitter taste fills your mouth and he slowly slides you off. Your lips suctioned around him and his seed fills your mouth, it dribbles out in little bits, sliding past your lips and down his cock and when he yaks you up to look at him, his face stained red and chest raising and falling in deep breaths. "Open," he commands and when you part your lips, his cum pools in your mouth. He nods and his hand cups your face and with his thumb hooked under your chin he closes it shut and nods. You swallow and your face pulls into a scrunch, the bitterness now much more apparent than before. "Fucking hot," he murmurs, sliding his hand away from your face. He clears his throat and his hands make a beckoning motion. "All right, your turn."

"My turn?" You ask in a whisper, clearing your throat.

He nods. "Come on. I want to taste your pussy."

"You're so vulgar," you comment, pinching your thighs together.

"You're not saying no." He gives you a smug look. "I bet you're dripping. I could feel your moans around my cock, you know?"

You square your shoulders and turn away from him, your mouth pulled into a thin line as you pinch the comforter between your fingers. "Should- Shouldn't I be lying down?"

"Sit on my face."

Your eyes widen and you look at him with lips parted open. He has a cheeky look on his face, lips half turned upwards and voice coltish.

"You just had my dick in your mouth. You don't get to act innocent."

"It isn't that. It's just that this is really happening, isn't it?"

"Do you want it to?"

"Of course," you play with your hands, "it's just that… I'm nervous."

He rolls his eyes and lays in the bed. "Come on then. Sit on my face."

You crawl carefully over him, your seeping entrance hovering inches above his mouth and you can feel his breath fan across your heat. "I-"

"I can't tongue fuck you if youre not on my face." He has a tight grip on your thighs akin to the one he held on your hair.

"You're so crass," you whisper, body too warm for comfort. You inch downward and gasp with his nails prick your skin.

He lowers you and his tongue is fast against you, it swipes around and flicks at your clit, circling it around and pressing it flat against you. His tongue is fast, swiping at every crevice, pushing open folds and suckling in them harshly. He enters your gummy hole, tongue swirling in and out, juices standing his mouth.

You leak on him, your cunt stimulated but he goes at a rapid pace, never focusing too long on one part and leaving you gripping the headboard until your knuckle pale.

"T-Tomura," you murmur, "my clit. I-" you gasp and rock yourself on his face, turning your head and squeezing your eyes shut. "Focus on my clit- you're too all over the place, love."

He says something and it's lost in your ears but the vibrations shake throughout your cunt, and he does as he's told. He holds you tight and his tongue swirls at a softer pace, circling your clit and his mouth moves up, lips brushing onto your sensitive pearl and wrapping it around. His tongue flicks at your bud while inside his mouth and you press yourself closer to him, tongue lolling out and your arousal leaking past his chin.

He speaks more and you hump his face, your hips thrusting and breathing broken. You can feel the coil inside of you tighten and you desperately try to reach your high, pathetically rutting yourself against his face and even with the grin you feel against your heat you can't stop and only mumble an apology. Your hands reach to your chest and you pull the cups of your bra down, fingers coming up to pinch at your nipples.

You call out his name, let out a choked gasp when his fingers prod inside of you, wiggling them around and reaching inside and massaging at the plush walls that reside inside.

His fingers are coated in your slick and they click in and out of you, the sound lost between your moans and the squeaking of the bed. You can feel your clit throb around him, his lips loosening and moving to close the gap between your lower lips. His fingers remove themselves and he presses then against your twitching bud. His tongue moves inside of you, slurping your slick out of you and he eats you vigorously. His movements blur together, fingers rubbing at your clit, little yelps leaving your mouth when he pinches it roughly and through an odd bend, he slaps your clit and you cry his name, slamming your palm over your hand. His teeth are sharp and graze at your skin, a sharp gasp rips through the gaps in your fingers and the coil that burns white hot in your stomach begins to become unbearable.

“Tomura,” you whine, “I’m- ah- I’m close,” you make a choking sound. “Fuck, I’m close.”

His words vibrate through your body, hums of pleasure and his arm jerks and you’re sure that he’s masturbating and the thought brings a pride to swell in your chest. He’s masturbating and he has his mouth buried in your cunt. He slaps his palm against your clit and the sharp sting has you slump and push yourself deeper against his mouth and a feeling similar to a snap, you release on him, your arousal washing over his and staining his face. Your muscles relax and can only mutter broken choruses of his name, your bud twitching and cunt fluttering around his tongue that still rests inside.

You let out a shocked gasp when you’re pulled off and laid on the bed. You’re on your back, an arm thrown over your eyes as you ride your high, his fingers pumping in and out of you, your slick spilling out and staining the bed. “Tomura,” you rasp out, squeezing your inner walls to wrap around his fingers. “Can- Can we-” Your words die out and your body shakes.

“Use your words.”

“Can we have sex now?”

“Beg.”

“You’re so demanding,” you chuckle lightly. You peek out from under your arm and look up at him where he stays focused on watching his fingers disappear in your sex. “Tomura can we- I want to feel your cock in me. Please Tomura, make me feel good.”

His fingers pull out of you with a click and his hand reaches under your back and he unhooks your bra. You rise and let it slip down your shoulders; it’s tossed away and now you both lay bare in front of each other.

“Could have been better but since I like you, I’ll let it slide,” he flashes you a grin, “for now.”

You huff and lay on your back. He hovers above you and holds his cock in his hand, stroking it slowly and pre-cum oozes out in pearly strands. “Wow, who knew you could be so nice,” you mutter, rolling your eyes.”

He shoves two fingers in your mouth and you gasp and instinctively close your mouth around them- you can taste yourself. “Don’t give me lip. I can put that mouth to better use,” he threatens and you feel yourself leak. You nod and he pulls his digits out of your mouth, wiping the mixture of spit and slick on the comforter. You crinkle your nose and he pulls you in a harsh kiss. He wastes no time and he licks your bottom lip, you open in response and you both gasp in unison when his cockhead pushes through your entrance. He fills you nicely, your walls expanding and you breathe harshly, your hands coming up to grip his biceps. He curses under his breath and with a final push, he’s buried inside of you.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he hisses. He moves inside of you at a slow pace. He lowers his head and hides it in the crook of your neck, his mouth sucks on you, a blossoming love mark appearing when he pulls away and moves his mouth elsewhere. “Fucking clamped around my cock.”

His pace is slow, pulling himself out of your soft walls and only leaving the tip in, only to push himself in with a rocking motion. His mouth moves across your neck, teeth nipping at your skin, tongue or chapped lips softening the sting when you squirm. His hand slides to your breasts and he grips it in his palm, the pebbling nipple tingles with pleasure and you coo at him, nuzzling your face towards him and murmuring his name.

“Tomura,” you mutter, and he grunts in response, “faster,” you breathe. You hand slips between your bodies and you rub at your clit, hissing at the still sensitive bud that makes you jerk.

He gives a cute nod and thrusts deeper into you, the pace quickening with every jerk of his hips. He’s quick against you, grabbing a leg and hooking it behind his back. He grunts in your ear, the occasional curse slurred and stitched together between moans.

“Fuck, you’re taking all of me, you know?” He moans out your name and it comes off cracked, followed by a sharp bite on your shoulder. You mewl and your cunt tightens around his member. “You’re gonna milk me, huh? Is that what you want?” You feel full, his cock hitting deep inside of you, the position you’re now in makes him hit a certain spot that shoots electricity throughout your body. Your toes curl and the added simulation makes tears peek at the corner of your eyes. “I’m gonna fill your sweet hole with my cum,” he grunts, pushing himself all the way in making you gasp. “I’m going to see you filled and leaking my cum out of you slutty, little hole- fuck!” He curses, pulling you into another bruising kiss where the hand on your breasts digs into your soft flesh. “Your cunt was made for me- got it?” he whispers against your lips. “No one else gets to see or taste it,” his cock twitches inside of you. “Your soft, squishy cunt that’s wrapped tight around my cock is mine and mine only.” His pace increases, growing sloppier by the second and your hands slide to his back and nails latch onto him. He moves over to bite your shoulder, spittle slipping out of his mouth and coating you and your comforter in a thin layer of him.

You whine under him, unable to think coherently as he pushes himself inside of you. He’s right, your cunt was made for him- the way it hits, the way it fills you up perfectly, stretching your walls around his thickness, everything about it, from the leaking tip to the package that slaps against your skin- your body was made for him- to use you and spill his seed inside.

“Yours,” you gasp, “your body and your cunt.” Your face scrunches up and you can feel yourself reaching your high. “

“Fuck yeah it is,” he growls. “My perfect little pussy. I get to dump load after load if I wanted to, right? Fill you with my cum and watch your belly swell with it? You’re my personal pocket pussy.” You clench with his words, your face burning and mind growing foggy with the coming of your orgasm. “You’re close, aren’t you?” You nod, your nails digging further into his body. “Well so I am,” he chuckles airly, his face contorting into a scrunch. “I’m gonna shoot my load inside- and you’re gonna keep it inside, understood?”

“Yes,” you gasp, “just- just spill inside of me, please.”

He moves your hand which rests above your pearl and adds in his own hand, the marks on your breast are evident and they’ll sting for a bit when you shower, he pulls you into a softer kiss, his tongue dipping in your mouth and his hand gives sharp slaps to your clit. The stimulation grows to an unbearable point and the heat in your lower belly finally reaches its peak. His name comes out in a gargled cry, a low moan that vibrates from your chest and the orgasm makes tears slide down your face and toes curl. Your body runs hot and jolts of electricity course through your body. Your sex wraps tight around him, the walls convulsing inside as your clit twitches to life.

His motions grow sloppy, his body rutting against yours and with a final gasp, he bites your shoulder and your name is muted, but still understandable. He repeats it like a mantra, hips meeting yours as his seed spills and coats your walls.

“You’re perfect,” his voice is hoarse, “fuck, you’re everthing to me,” his voice is choked as he reaches his high. “I’m never leaving you,” he repeats the words, muddled in with your name, “never again.” His groan sounds broken and full of emotion when you meet his eyes for a second, they shine.

His movements slow and he comes to a still, cock still buried in you as ropes shoot out. His teeth mark your shoulder and when he pulls away, he places feverish kisses on you, the pain subsiding with every press of his chapped lips. He pulls out and collapses next to you. You can feel the cum leak out of your body in thick, syrupy strands.

“That was,” you struggle to find the words, knitting your brows together until you come up to the next best thing, “fun,” you whisper.

“Fun? That’s all you’ve to say?” He asks, turning on his side and giving you a smug look. “You came on my face and on my cock. I think you had more than just “fun”, he quotes.

You scoff and shake your head. “Okay then you describe it,” you turn your head to face him and smirk at him, “because you seem like you had fun too.”

He shrugs and throws an arm around you, his fingers light at your sides. “Fuck off,” he mutters, a soft smile on his face. “Next time, I’m going to make you squirt.”

You flash him a coy grin and stick your tongue out at him. “Do you have to be so crude?”

“You swallowed my load and you have it deep in your pussy,” he sighs, rolling his eyes, “I think we’re both crude.” He pauses and then a grin stretches out on his face. “Not to mention you practically humped my face.”

You groan and cover your face with your hands, the smile still evident. “You- Your tongue felt good.”

His hand ghosts over your breasts and his index circles over your hardened niple. “How did it feel?”

“Tomura,” you whine, your hands slide away from your face and you turn to him. He answers you with a growing grin and you rub your legs together. “I don’t know. It- It felt good. Your tongue on my clit and then when you sucked on it I- it just felt good.”

“And when I slapped it?” He presses forwards, his fingers now pinching your breast.

“Slapping,” you voice lowers, “slapping felt really good. It stung, but a good sting.”

“Your poor attempt at dirty talk is actually pretty hot,” he grabs your hand and lowers it, the back of your fingers brush against his hardening member, “wanna go again?”

“You aren’t tired?”

“I could go for a lazy fuck.” He pumps your hand and his eyes flutter to a close. “I think it’d be hot to see how gushy you are with my cum still inside.”

You stare at him in disbelief, a wide smile on your face as you turn to curl into his chest. “It’s amazing how I fell for you- it really is.” His hand wraps around your back and his fingers lightly trace your spine, phantom touched still present even when he’s moved away. “To be completely honest, I think I want to take a shower.” You press a kiss on his collarbone. “You’re free to join.”

His hand slides down your back and over your thigh, he hooks his hand underneath and picks up your thigh, hooking it over his leg. His cock presses near your entrance and you swallow.

“One more round?” His lips brush past the shell of your ear and he presses fleeting kisses down your neck. “Promise it’ll be quick.”

You pull away and look up at him, your mouth parted and eyes clouded over with lust. “Only because you’re cute.”

He smiles wickedly and presses a kiss on your lips, his cock once again entering your squishy, warm walls.

#ciays #can i ask you something #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura #bnha #bnha shigaraki tomura #i wanna kiss

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ohkiyo · 4 years ago

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pairing: Goshiki Tsutomu x Reader.

warnings: none.

word count: 1.3k

a/n: I can't believe I almost forgot Goshiki's birthday. Here’s a quick one for our future ace. :D

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shiratorizawa navigation || main navigation

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You stared at your clock, (e/c) eyes never leaving the device as you grip your phone on your hand. Your text already drafted and ready to be sent the moment those two hands strike the desired time you’ve been waiting.

11:58 pm.

'Just 2 more minutes' you thought glaring at your clock, cursing it for being slow. You never realized just how slow two minutes can be, the moving hands looking like they've frozen in place instead of actually doing its job. You swore your clock was mocking you, playing some sort of game, thinking that it might be funny.

You were currently seated on your bed, having just woken up from a nap, waiting for the time to reach 12. It was Goshiki's birthday the next day, and you wanted to be the very first one to greet him. Tendou had challenged you the other day that he'll be the very first to do it, being the great senpai that he is. But you replied with the utmost determination that it would be you, who will greet him a happy birthday first.

12:00 am.

"...and sent" you grinned, seeing the little check mark at the bottom. An indication that your message has been sent. Getting out of your bed, you walk downstairs and into the kitchen to finish baking the brownies you had started earlier. You were currently in your family home instead of in your dorm, you had to go home so you could bake him some sweets. Since the kitchen in your dorm didn't have the complete appliances and baking materials.

You could've just bought some at a bakery or sweet stores but you wanted this to be special. It's a gift for your boyfriend’s birthday after all.

Just as you step foot into the kitchen your phone let out a ding.

From: Tomu-kun

Thank you (Y/n)-chan ❤ I'll see you tomorrow?

You leaned on the doorway, your fingers busy typing your reply.

To: Tomu-kun

Of course! :) Go back to sleep, sweet dreams.❤

Placing your phone on the table, you continued your work. Measuring the ingredients properly as well as making sure you were doing it all right. You wanted to make the fudgiest brownies that you can, your mom had given you a few tips earlier on how to make them properly, it's all up to you on how you'll execute them.

Once everything was done, you place them in the oven then set the timer and started cleaning up the mess you made.

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"Tomu-kun! Good morning!" you wave at your boyfriend standing near the gates waiting for you, already dressed in his practice clothes. His tracks pants and jacket keeping him warm from the cold wind. He opened his arms wide for you, wrapping them around your much smaller form when you basically ran into them.

"A very good morning indeed" he grinned at you, as he leaned down to capture your lips into a kiss. Pulling you closer to his body, sharing his warmth with you when he felt you shiver.

Giggling, you pulled away from the kiss as you gave him the gift bag you were holding. "Here, this is for you"

"What's this?" he examined the light purple colored bag, his other hand supporting the bottom because of how heavy it was.

“Your gift of course” you beamed, motioning for him to open it.

Excited, he opened the gift, peeking through the gap at the upper part of the bag. Inside he saw four items, all neatly arrange for it to fit the limited space. The first one was two pairs of brand new kneepads, the pair he’s currently using were already old and tattering. He didn’t have time to buy a new one because he was so busy, and your gift was the one he just needed.

The second item was a hand-knitted scarf of his favorite color, he lost his other one a few months ago when he was doing his laundry and he doesn’t know who took it. He suspects it was his roommate, he’s definitely going to use this later. the temperature’s been rather low lately.

The third one was a stuffed bear, wearing what seems to be a mini version of his volleyball uniform. He had given you a similar one but wearing a little dress for your own birthday, now that he had his own stuffy, the two of you now have matching plushies.

Last but not the least was four boxes filled with the fudgy brownies you baked last night. Sweet treats or sweets in general, were a great boost for him, he loses so much of his stored up energy whenever he’s practicing that he ends up becoming really sluggish by the end of it.

He gives the ribbon a light tug before his eyes caught sight of a card on top.

Wishing you the happiest birthday! I love you to the moon and back, may you enjoy this day, and the more birthdays to come in the future. - xoxo (Y/n)

He felt his eyes start to water, a lump forming in his throat. The amount of happiness you have given him that morning was unmeasurable. No one had ever done something so special for him before, there was his family but they were different, this is you he was talking about. He’s very first girlfriend, the love of his life, and just looking at all the things you gave him once again just made him cry harder.

He’s so happy, he finds it hard to form the right words. So he chose to give you another hug instead, burying his face on your hair as he tries to keep down the sob leaving his lips.

“Oh Tsu” you rub your hand up and down his back in comfort, hugging him tighter.

“T-Thamk you, sho much. (Y/n)-chan” he said in between hiccups as a smile spread on your lips. Rocking him side to side, a quiet hum leaving your lips.

“Oh ho, look at this” you two broke apart from the hug, Goshiki furiously rubs his eyes on his sleeve as you take a peek from behind his tall figure to see his teammates walking over. “It’s the lovebirds!

“Happy birthday Tsutomu” they greeted, each one doing what they like best. Giving him head pats, ruffling his hair, a light punch on the shoulder, anything to show him their love and affection.

“Were you crying?” Shirabu raises an eyebrow at his puffy eyes, the redness still visible.

“N-no I didn’t” Goshiki replied, denying the second year’s words. But it was obvious that Shirabu didn’t believe him though, but chose to stay quiet.

“By the way Tsutomu, who greeted you first?” Tendou questioned as you and the redhead stared at him in expectation.

“(Y/n)-chan did” he smiled at the way you struck out your tongue at the middle blocker, a victorious ‘hah!” leaving your lips.

It was actually Ushijima who sent him the greeting first, but he wouldn’t tell you that.

“Oh! I need to go now” you adjusted your bag on your shoulder, checking your wristwatch. “I’ll see you later ‘Tomu-kun” giving him one last kiss, you wave them goodbye as you ran towards your dorm room. So you could leave the rest of your things before you go to class.

“Are you going to eat these by yourself?” he turned his head to look at his seniors to see them holding one of the boxes containing the brownies you gave him. He looks at his hands to notice that the bag he was holding earlier wasn’t there anymore.

When and how did they get it?

“It looks so delicious” Yamagata and Tendou were almost drooling at the sight of the dessert. Quickly, he snatches it away from them and hid it from their hungry gaze.

“No this is mine, (Y/n) baked it for me”

“Tsutomu, sharing is caring” he backs away from them shaking his head before he turned around and dash towards his own room. As the rest ran after him.

These brownies were made for him and he was going to eat it all until not a single crumb was left.

“Come back here!”

“No!”

Happy Birthday Tsutomu~

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a/n: did I just wrote the cheesiest and probably the most cliche fic ever? yes, yes I did.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #goshiki x reader #goshiki tsutomu x reader #goshiki fluff #goshiki imagine #goshiki scenario #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu oneshot #shiratorizawa

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theravencawsatmidnight · 5 years ago

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Curious Cat pt 6

Summary. Shigaraki , feared villain. Has been hit with a quirk that has turned him into a moody mouthy cat. Reader takes him home and he slowly comes around, sort of. But the quirk has worn off now. And after a little quickie hes gone back to the hideout full of regret.

Shigaraki stomped all the way back to the hideout with his arms folded tight over his chest. Nice job, idiot. She knows it's you. Great. You were supposed to scare her not hesitate like some scaredy cat. He looked over his shoulder,not seeing you. Well , it's not like she will follow me. Not into villain territory. Stupid human.

You had fallen to your knees outside once you lost him . People looked down at you, your coffee stained apron, your shocked face. That was Shigaraki, a villain. He had Tomu’s collar , but why? Would he know where Tomu is-?

“Y/n!!!” Shouted a voice along with a door slam.

You looked back to see your boss Looking angry. “Go home! You're done for the day! Im taking that cup out of your paycheck!” The door slammed again getting a wince out of you. A passerby offered to help you up but you pushed yourself up brushing off your apron. You needed answers.

Shigaraki kicked the hideout door open to see Toga ‘helping’ Kurogiri wipe down the bar. She was using her sleeve. Kurogiri was less than happy about it but he let her help anyway. The door slam got them both to look up . Toga waved and Kurogiri said ‘hello’ . Shigaraki sat down with a hard thud clicking his teeth.

“Did you?” Kurogiri asked softly.

“I gave her the stupid collar back and left.”

“Did you explain the situation?”

“No”

“Tomura Shigaraki!”

The Leader clicked his teeth spinning around to see the rest of the hideout. This dump is not homey at all. Humans home was much more- He blinked , squeezing his folded arms tight.

Toga tapped his back so he would look at her. “Tomura, what if she comes here?”

“Shes a stupid Human , she wont know where to look.”

“You better hope your right Tomura Shigaraki.”

“Tch.” The Leader slid off his chair walking to his room, he slammed the door and threw himself on his bed staring at the wall. Stupid bed. Not even comfortable. He grabbed the blanket pulling it over his head burying his face in his pillow.

The days went on, and you had been doing all kinds of research on Shigaraki . You always found the same information , crimes, murders, the League. You just wanted to know where the hideout was.. Maybe you should look yourself. And with that awful idea you got up putting your phone away and grabbed a bag stuffing your phone in it. You left your house calling a taxi and made your way to the other side of the city.

Shigaraki was playing his switch on the couch with Toga next to him, asking him all sorts of annoying questions about being a cat. Spinner was at the bar trying to figure out what his Leader would look like as a cat and Kirogiri was wiping down the bar.

“Did you eat cat food?” Asked the girl

“Do you wanna die?” He snapped at her but she just giggled leaning on him.

“Pleaseeee Tomuraaa. Its important. What did you do when she left for work? I bet you threw a fit.”

“Shut up.”

“You did didn't you!!! Kurogiri!! Even as a kitty he was fussy!!!”

“I believe it Himiko”

Shigaraki flinched at their laughter rolling his eyes.

The door opened and Dabi walked in with his hand over his mouth and a paper in his free hand. He strolled over to his Leader chuckling. Shigaraki looked up and Toga jumped up to see the paper. She let out the loudest squeal Shigaraki had ever heard, he winced. Dabi flipped the paper over leaning down laughing loud. “IS THAT YOU!!!?”

It was a Missing Cat flyer. With a picture of him looking VERY angry at his cat toys. When the fuck did Human take this?!?. Shigaraki got up grabbing the flyer from the laughing villain and Kurogiri rushed over to see it too.

Missing Cat.

Tomu

Light blue, shaggy hair on his head

Fussy but very loveable

A phone number and a home address.

Fucking Human! God dammit.. What the hell is this?!? . It was obvious that the cat was him, if villains found out you had contact with him, or the Pros..

“LOOK AT YOU HAHA!!!!!!” Dabi weezed, leaning on Toga who couldn't stop making annoying noises.

Spinner snuck over getting a peek and his eyes got wide. He looked at Shigaraki then the flyer a few times. Kurogiri was chuckling and Shigaraki was staring at the flyer, crinkling its side.

“TOMUUU!!!” Teased Dabi.

“So cute!!!” Toga added.

“SHUT U-“

A quiet knock filled everyone's ears. The door opened slowly and Shigaraki dusted the flyer.

••

The taxi brought you just outside the sketchy part of the city. You thanked the man and he shrugged turning around driving away. You squeezed your bag looking at the bunched together buildings. Some villains were making themselves known too, walking around the area eyeing you. You had found an image online that looked like an old bar, it was your only lead unless you asked the villains..

Cautiously you walked down the sidewalk trying to ignore the villains you passed.

“Whats a pretty thing like you doing here huh?”

“Never seen you before”

“Looking for someone?”

“It's not safe here for a pretty lady…”

Even though the villains never approached you, them following you , talking in your ear was terrifying. You came to a rather large fancy building stopping in front of it to look in the mirrors. The villains dispersed and the door clicked open. You looked up to see an old man smiling down at you, he had on a fancy suit and a cigarette in his mouth.

“Can i help you, little lady?”

“I mean no trouble.. i'm looking for Shigaraki.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, closing the door behind him with a small smirk on his face. “Allow me to take you.”

“Thank you! I ..”

“Giran, sweetie.”

••

On the way there you explained why you were looking for him and Giran could not help but chuckle. Oh this was grand he thought. He knew Shigaraki was missing for a while but he never expected him to be turned into a cat . Giran brought you to a building that matched your photo and held the door open for you following you inside. The closer you got to the second door the louder the laughing you heard got.

You looked back once you reached the door and Giran smiled at you, lighting a new cigarette with his gun. Very slowly you pushed the door open peaking in.

Everyone looked back at you and Giran peered in over you waving. “Hello hello, I brought a friend.” He teased pushing the door open. The flyer turned to dust and Shigaraki pushed Dabi and Toga outta the way, stomping over to you .

What the hell is this. What the hell is this?!? How did she find me? Giran? Fucking HELL.

“Giran.” He spat out.

Giran put his hand on your head smiling. “She just wants to talk Tomu.”

Your eyes got big and you grabbed Shigarakis wrist, scaring him . “Tomu!!! Its you isn't it? “

Shigaraki shook you off stepping back. “Get her out of here. I don't know this person.”

You whimpered and Kurogiri walked over holding his hand out to you. “Miss. Welcome. I have a couple questions for you.”

You nodded fast letting him lead you to the bar while Shigaraki gave Giran the worst death look . The old man shrugged smiling , the door closing behind him.

Toga grabbed your hand squealing asking a bunch of questions, beaming about how pretty you were. Dabi went over too leaning on the bar asking you all about his Leader. Kurogiri offered you water and shot his Leader a look till he stomped over sitting down next to you. Spinner walked into the room seeing you , he jumped back behind the wall watching.

“What the hell are you thinking?” Shigaraki asked you with annoyance in his voice . “Do you realize how dangerous it is to be here? The fact that you know me . Your so stupid. Inconsiderate Human. “

“Tomura Shigaraki!!!” Kurogiri enforced.

The Leader crossed his arms and Kurogiri turned his attention back to you . You were gripping your bag tight trying not to look at him. It was him, your cat. Your cat was a villain. Slowly you looked up at Kurogiri . “What.. did you want to ask?” . While you and Kurogiri chatted Shigaraki was left with his thoughts.

I cannot believe this. I should have dusted her when I had the chance. How is Human getting home huh? These fucking villains around here wont be nice to Human. Its late in the day , your suppose to be home watching that stupid tv show you love so much . Eating that cheap food .

He looked over at you , his fists tightening. You turned to him once you caught him staring. Slowly you reached into your bag pulling the collar out and an apron.

Human. I dont want that stupid collar. I hated that thing. What is that cloth? He snatched it looking it over. The apron? The apron I slept on? What the fuck am i go-

“Tomu.. I want you to have these..” you sniffled and his gaze shot right to your face. You had tears pooling in your eyes. “I want you to know.. finding you. Was the happiest I've been in a very long time. I don't understand what happened-“

“I changed back and I fucked you.” Be upset.

That night when it was hot as fuck in your dump of a home.” Get out of here

Kurogiri raised his voice startling you. “Tomura Shigaraki!!!” But he just ignored it

“The quirk wore off and I took advantage of your sutty body .” It's not safe here, you'll get hurt.

You retracted your arm looking down at the collar, your tears hitting it.

“That stupid collar. I hated it. And this.. apron?” He tossed it over the bar . “Stupid.” Why aren't you leaving? “You were so tight around me , squeezing me just right”

“TOMURA SHIGARAKI”

“SHUT UP KUROGIRI!!” Shigaraki kicked his chair away. “ITS NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS. “ he turned his attention to you to see you wiping your eyes so you could see him. “Tomu.. you were so gentle with me… you even dressed me after….”

His heart nearly skipped a beat. Oh fuck.

••

@bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love @babayaga67 @Unknownweeabo

#CuriousShiggy #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki x reader #dabi #himiko toga #kurogiri #giran

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curiosity-killed · 7 years ago

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For @ax100 <3

The carnival is…overwhelming. The press of alien crowds, the cacophony of a hundred different languages, the blitz of flashing lights – it’s all enough to have Keith shrinking in on himself, reaching for the Luxite blade at his hip. “Hey,” Hunk says, “I’m right here.” His hand is broad and warm over Keith’s shoulder, and Keith leans into the touch. A smile, warm and real, blooms over Hunk’s lips, and Keith can feel his own lips curling up in an echo of the smile.

“You okay, babe?” Hunk asks. “Yeah,” Keith says. “It’s just – a lot.” Hunk frowns, absently pulling Keith in closer, as if to protect him. Keith goes willingly, deep-rooted affection preventing any irritation he normally feels at being manhandled. Hunk does it with such instinctive care, it’s impossible to be annoyed. “We can go back to the ship, if you want,” Hunk offers. “Or go somewhere quieter?” Keith shakes his head immediately before realizing Hunk is still scrutinizing the crowd. He eyes it with personal dislike, as if the crowd has personally offended him by making Keith uncomfortable The thought brings a furl of warmth to Keith’s chest and a slightly smug smile to his lips. He reaches up to catch Hunk’s jaw and gently turn it towards him. Hunk follows with a look of bemusement. Keith leans up and presses a quick kiss to Hunk’s lips. “Nah,” he says. “It’s date night.” Hunk grins, and Keith leans back in for one more quick kiss. When he pulls away, his lips taste sweet, like the sugary orange confection Hunk bought a few hours ago. Hunk’s gaze follows Keith’s tongue as it swipes the taste from his bottom lip. Tugging on their joined hands, Keith pulls them back into the crowd and through. They pass through the crowd with some effort and pop out on the other side, escaping the main boulevard to walk along the backs of the stalls. The sky arches overhead in a tessellation of blues. The carnival lights hover in shifting lines, neon jewels crisscrossing the dark of the sky. Behind the vendors is quiet and still, only a few aliens meandering past. The rest of the crew is out here somewhere, wandering and exploring. They’d spotted Ulaz and Shiro once – Shiro’s head thrown back in laughter while Ulaz watched with a helpless sort of fondness. The others had vanished shortly after they’d separated, but Keith doesn’t worry, for once. They’re safe, he knows – and so is he. Hunk threads their fingers together and starts walking along the dark side of the carnival. From this vantage, it’s easier to pick out the different stalls and signs without being distracted by the crush of the crowds. They glow in impossible hues against the night sky, pinks and greens and blues. Below them, tides of aliens undulate among the stalls. “Holy shit.” Keith lunges forward, jerking Hunk by their joined hands. “Keith?” Hunk asks. “What is it?” Keith continues to gape, too stunned to do more than stare. Hunk steps up to his level and peers along Keith’s sightline. “A…hippo?” Keith breathes. “A – what?” Hunk asks, but Keith is already pulling them in a singleminded beeline towards a stall. Prizes hang in lines along the side of it, and as they near, it quickly becomes clear which of these caught Keith’s eye. A hippo – plump and plush-looking – hangs in an upper corner of the wall. Keith stops just below the plushie, gawking. It isn’t exactly accurate with its four eyes and purple-mottled fur, but the jaw is unmistakeable. “A hippo,” Hunk laughs. He wraps one arm around Keith in a hug, careful not to pink Keith’s arms down. “Hey! Hey you!” Keith jerks around defensively, arms raising up. An alien looms over them, a bent pillar of semi-transparent…stuff. It quivers a bit, like a disconcertingly large mound of food goo, but the way the carnival lights reflect in its blue flesh is more like glass. “Back off,” the alien says. “We don’t let thieves like you around here!” “We’re not thieves,” Keith retorts. The alien quivers upward in something like indignation. It has no arms to cross, but Keith can imagine it anyway. “Then why are you skulking around back here instead of playing the game, eh?” the alien demands smugly. Keith rolls his eyes and pulls Hunk back towards the other side, but Hunk doesn’t budge. “What’s the game?” he asks. The alien made a flubbering noise, like a gust of air through flaps of rubber. “It is the mightiest of games in the universe, the truest test of strength in all the worlds!” it declares, sliding back along their slime trail. Keith and Hunk follow, the trail crunching crystalline under their boots. They round the corner. “The Undefeatable Ubeta!” the alien announces. Keith blinks. It’s a hammer game, one of those strength tests from old circuses but with more lights and unreadable writing. Hunk pauses, and then pats Keith’s arm. “I got this, babe.” Keith smiles a little, settling in for a show, as Hunk strides forward to where an oversized club lays at the foot of the game. The alien trills in alarm. “No, no, you are a mere Terran!” it yelps. “You cannot withstand the might of the Ubeta!” Hunk hefts the club in one hand and glances the alien’s way with a raised eyebrow. “I’ve fought Zarkon,” he says nonchalantly. “I think I’m good.” He throws a grin and a wink over his shoulder at Keith, and Keith grins back. Turning back to the machine, hunk rolls the club once in his hand before looking to the alien. “How high for the hippo?” “The ippo?” the alien asks. “Yeah, the hippopotamus,” Hunk says, gesturing towards the prize with his club. The alien falters a moment before huffing out a wet breath and straightening up to its full height. “The uh – the i-ipo-eepo-tomus is the very top, of course,” it huffs. ‘Of course,’ Keith mouths, rolling his eyes. Hunk just turns back to the game. He hefts the club once more, lifts it high – and swings. A few minutes later, they are walking back to the ship, the hippo snug under Keith’s arm. Behind them, the alien can still be heard sputtering about cheaters and the Intergalactic Gaming Agency, and the game’s bell continues to ring. From the way Hunk lodged the ball in the game’s upper sensor Keith doubts the Undefeatable Ubeta will be facing any more challengers in the near future. “Y’know,” he says, “you didn’t have to do that for me.” Hunk flushes, rubbing the back of his neck abashedly. “I know,” he admits, “but the way you just…lit up” – he shrugged helplessly – “I just like seeing you smile like that.” Keith smiles, ears burning scarlet. He leans in, wrapping his arms around Hunk’s chest and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you,” he says. Hunk stops to enfold Keith in his own arms and pull him back in for a full kiss. The crowd still presses in around them, a tugging and pushing tide, but with Hunk’s arms around his chest and Hunk’s heartbeat thumping in time with his own, Keith can’t think of a single place he’d feel safer.

#ax100 #voltron ficlet #voltron fic #heith #my writing

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ecotone99 · 4 years ago

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[SF] The Rusting Hulk

The fire danced and flickered with a mesmerizing erraticism, a sharp contrast to the deep blackness of the surroundings. A middle-aged woman sat near the fire, stoking it with a listless energy only a traveler can have. As she stared into the fire, the heat and intensity of the flames inevitably brought her back to that day. The day she had been trying to escape her entire life. She had been traveling from village to village, mountain to valley, year after year, and yet no matter how far she traveled, it always seemed to be looming directly above her. That singular day, waiting for her to close her eyes, so it can descend upon her in a cascade of fear and regret, terror and agony. At this point in her life, she knew it was better to just accept the impending hell, so that it would be over sooner and maybe, just maybe she could sleep a little that night.

The heat from the fire quickly turned to her opening her eyes to feel the warmth of the sun on her face. She was back in her village, the rancor of bodies moving and the low chatter of early morning trade carried through the air. Just as she was getting lost in the serenity of it all, she heard a voice, young and shrill, call out to her.“Jovah! Jovah!! Over here!” A young boy, maybe around 15 suns ran up to her and struggled to catch his breath. It was her best friend, Tomu. They had known each other since they could walk, and were nigh inseparable. Tomu had always been mischievous, so she already knew that behind his devilish grin, there was some grand adventure or calculated scheme to be had. She smiled at him, “What is this time Tomu, you know we have to prepare for our New Light ceremony. It’s only a few months away!”“I know I know, that’s what this is about! I found something perfect to really set us apart from everyone else!”Jovah raises an eyebrow at him, “Tomu, you say this every time you find something even remotely interesting, you always let your imagination get away from you.”“Yeah, yeah, and you always rain on my day, but I’m willing to let it slide because of how sure I am this time!” His face goes from mild disappointment right back to beaming with excitement. “You just have to trust me!”Jovah always thought her friend was a little too eager, a little too rash, but she found it nearly impossible to say no to him. His excitement was contagious, it eroded resistance the way a wave destroys a sand castle.“Fine.” She sighs.“I knew you couldn’t resist! Race me to the tower?”Before he could even get a response, she took off past him at full speed.“That’s not fair! We didn’t start the race!” But his voice was already trailing way behind now, being drowned out by the wind and the rush of blood and sweat from bearing towards the tower at full speed. It was always moments like this, which Jovah found herself really appreciating. She enjoyed the simplicity of it, the rawness of it. A person running at full speed was just the body fighting against itself. There were no outside elements, no social dance, just the body and the mind. The cool rush of air, and the steady thumping of ones feet slamming against the ground. Before she knew it, she was already at the tower, leaning against it to catch her breath.

The coldness of the metal was a sharp relief to the heat radiating from her hands. After a few moments of catching her breath, she stood upright and looked around. “Tomu should be here by now…” she thought to herself. Then she hears it, the distinct sound of a fake bird call. Tomu always loved making up some strange sound or noise to grab someone’s attention. He said it was more interesting than saying something like “hey, over here.” Jovah always thought that was strange, but it was yet another thing in a long list of things that endeared him to her. She looked up to see Tomu sitting on the midway point of the tower, at which the tower warped and bent sideways in a very unnatural way, the metal was splayed and shredded like a tree that had been struck by lightning. She suddenly was struck with a wave of fear, a tingle down her spine. Tomu must have noticed because he quickly climbed down. “Jovah what’s wrong? You’re making a strange face.”“I-... I don’t know. I can’t really explain it, I just wonder what could cause something so seemingly strong and immovable to bend like that…”Tomu started laughing, “You always think too much. I’m sure that’s just another old relic from the Before Days. Whatever did that is long gone, I’m sure.”“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Jovah wanted to believe she was just overreacting, that it was just some strange alien thought that appeared in her mind, but she couldn’t shake it. “Come on, let’s go” Tomu said nonchalantly as he began to head off into the wall of trees.They continued to walk through the dense overgrowth, the thick canopy of the trees providing the only defense against the intense heat of the intense red sun. They walked for what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only a few hours in reality. Then finally, they come to a small clearing, with a big strange rock in the middle of it. No… Not a rock. A structure. A building. It was overgrown and mossy, roots and growth strangling it with what seemed to be a desperate determination. Like the ground and jungle itself did not want this structure to be here, like it didn’t belong and the planet knew it. The feeling that Jovah felt at the tower returned, only tenfold. “Tomu wait!” but he either didn’t hear her or chose to ignore her. She swallowed the lump in her throat and braced herself and walked forward towards the ominous monolith.

When she caught up to Tomu, he was frantically running his hands all over the rust streaked metal door that made this structure seem more like a metallic mausoleum more than anything else. “There has to be a way to activate these doors” he spoke out loud to himself.“Tomu I don’t think this is a good idea, I really don’t think we should be here.” She was now staring at the strange hieroglyphics and strange symbols that had appeared on the door where Tomus hands had wiped away some of the ancient rust.Tomu stopped for a moment and looked at her, wiping the rusty grime onto his baggy pants.“Aw is someone afraid that there’s a giant evil spirit inside waiting to steal our souls and snuff out the sun?”She gave him a stern look and scowled.“Oh come on. Look I know you’re worried, but we have each other. Plus, we need to take a risk if we want to find a relic worth taking back to the Archivist to distinguish ourselves. If we’re really lucky, we’ll find more than one! It’ll be worth it, trust me.” Tomu looked at Jovah with a mischievous smirk.“Plus, if there is something scary in there, I’ve got you to protect me!” Jovah sighed, and flashed a weak smile at him, which he took as permission to continue fiddling with the door. She began to daydream about the ceremony of the 16th Sun, or the New Light ceremony. She imagined herself and Tomu, at the center of the ceremony, celebrated by all the elders and even the mysterious old Archivist giving them a modest nod of approval. She even imagined that it would finally be th-. Her daydream was cut short by Tomu’s voice.“Found you! You thought you could hide from Tomu’s watchful eye but not today, I’m a little too quick witted to be outdone by some Door from Before”As Jovah looked over, she could see he had pulled a large mass of vines and roots away from the edges of the door, and found a strange box with small buttons on it. He had already gutted the box like one would the days catch, and the wires were frayed and pointed in all directions. Little jolts of lightning would occasionally fly out of the box, jumping from wire to wire, and Tomu was working diligently, not even phased by how seemingly alien and otherworldly all of this seemed to her.

Jovah never understood how Tomu did it. He always seemed so aloof and distracted until he was tinkering with something from the Before Days. Then he looked like a Shaman channeling the elements or a musician playing an instrument. He was extremely gifted, and sometimes she caught herself feeling equal parts bewilderment and envy. Once again, her inner thought process was cut short due the ground shaking suddenly, and the heavy low rumble of steel and concrete grinding together. It was a hellish, indescribable noise, the sound of a large animal dying and rocks crumbling, a bellow from the darkest depths of the world. Maybe it was.No sooner had the door stopped moving did Tomu move into the darkness.“Tomu wait!” she yelled into the strange cave structure, surprised to hear her voice echo back into the dark corridor.He turned his head and said over his shoulder, “Come on, are you going to make me explore this alone?”Her face was briefly cycled from shocked, to anger, then finally resignation. She caught up to him quickly, and then realized they can both see. She expected darkness, but then she noticed on the floor, strange lights illuminating the unnatural square tiles on the floor. The walkway they were on was extremely large, large enough that whole groups of people could walk it at once. Tomu seemed so serene, so confident about descending into such unknowable forgotten depths. She wasn’t sure if his confidence calmed her or terrified her further.

It didn’t take long for the walkway to lead to a small windowed room, connecting to a much larger seemingly empty room. In the small room, there were a bunch of strange devices laying around, all kinds of relics from the Before Days. Jovah immediately started grabbing some of them up in her arms, desperate to leave this metallic tomb, but Tomu didn’t even stop walking, didn’t even stop to notice the myriad of devices laying on the floor. A strange little rectangle caught her eye. She leaned down and snatched it up off the dusty floor. It had more of the strange symbols on it, like the ones on the door, only this little rectangle also featured a strange face in a small box. It had a little gold rectangle near the bottom with smooth little grooves in it. Jovah placed the strange little rectangle in her bag and began to gather more strange devices off the floor. Bowl like metal things with patterns like the jungle, and long pipes with unfamiliar outcroppings, dark as night. After her hands were full, Jovah walked up next to Tomu, her arms still clutching the various relics from a time neither of them had ever seen, as he began to tinker with a terminal in front of him. It was only a few minutes before a man shaped figure appeared in incandescent blue light in front of them. He was wearing an incredibly strange outfit, with small colorful devices and metal pieces hanging off the fabric in an intricate pattern. One of the little devices had some more symbols on it. He stood tall and stiff, and began to speak. The words that came out of his mouth were unintelligible, seemingly nonsense, but the tone of his voice made the hair on the back of Jovah’s neck stand up. Although they could not understand what he was saying, the message was dark. It was foreboding and the man spoke with a grim resignation. The next few moments happened so fast that it became a struggle to remember with clarity. One moment she was listening to the foreboding man speak in an alien tongue, and the next she was running for her life. Tomu had continued to work on the terminal while the message was playing. He was on a mission.

It was only once It had woken did he understand the gravity of what he had done. In the center of the adjacent room, a gargantuan metal box fell from a giant steel claw on the ceiling. The quake from it smacking against the ground almost knocked them off their feet, but before they could recover, the strange box began to unfold. It was undoing itself, expanding and unpacking. In almost no time, the box had transformed into a four legged monstrosity, its slender appendages leading up to an armored hull larger than a hut. On top of its sleek body rested a head whose singular feature was a massive, glaring red eye. The eye shot out a beam of light and it began dancing around the room, moving over everything with a freakish rapidity. It was only once that red luminescence moved over their bodies did it begin lurching towards them with unnatural speed. In seconds it was upon them, the sounds of shredding metal and warping girders surrounding them. The last thing she could remember was a series of high pitched chirps like a nightmare birdsong before the red incandescence enveloped Tomu. She could feel the heat on her skin, could smell the ash in the air, the unnatural static adding to the surreal circumstance she found herself in. So she reacted. She reacted in the one way she could and ran. She ran away from the sound of clanging warping metal. She ran away from the alien bird song of that metallic beast from Hell. She ran so fast she thought her heart might explode. She ran as hard as she could and she never stopped running. She’s been running from the memory of that day ever since.

Until today, that is. Jovah looked away from the fire, snapping back to reality and then glancing down at the rusting hulk of the Thing that killed Tomu. The thing that she now sat upon and stoked her fire. The otherworldly metal monstrosity who’s red eye now flickered like the embers of a dying fire. It seemed to her that things had returned to a more natural state. It had haunted her in equal parts, Tomu’s death, and the knowledge that this creature was walking the planet wreaking havoc for nearly 15 cycles. She looked over at her little robot pal, Chirper, and touched her metal arm. A lot has happened in those 15 cycles, but that’s a story for a different day. Jovah leaned back and put her arms behind her head to look up at the stars. “I don’t have to run anymore. I wish you were here Tomu.”

submitted by /u/Meshinato [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/34fFPa2

#Blogger #Story

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plush-rabbit · 4 years ago

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Burning Scratch Marks

TW: I do go into the feeling of itching so be wary of that. Starts early on and happens shortly after the cut

Word Count: 3K

A/N: I often do this with my arms and neck when I get irritated or like nervous so like, little bit of self-indulgent (^▽^;)

It starts off as a prickling feeling, just a small itch that can be brushed away with a dull scratch, a simple scratch that can be tended to quickly and ignored. You shuffle in your chair, rubbing your thumb over the side of your index, clicking your tongue as you watch a random video on the internet, finger swiping over the video and scrolling to the next post. Your leg jerks and the itching feeling grows. It starts off in the back of your head, inching towards the right, feeling it creep and center itself, burning and feathery touches above you; and you swallow tightly as another feeling grows near your knee, only to be soother away by a quick scratch followed by a rub of your palm.

You don’t know why it happened, why the sudden feeling to pick and scratch at your skin occured. It’s been a good while since it happened- the scratching feeling that nips at your skin and begs for attention only to spread as you continue to scratch, leaving you with a slight burning feeling over your skin, the feeling that lingers and can only go away once you have completely distracted your mind- and now it’s returned, wrapping around you with a firm grasp.

You wonder if this is how Tomura feels when he scratches at himself. If it’s just a burning ache that starts and once indulged in just spreads further and further until left wincing when warm water hits at the slightly raw skin that is decorated with scratch marks. Or maybe it’s something different for him. He doesn’t talk about his tic and neither do you. You don’t speak about it, you fret over when he does it- tugging at his hand and forcing him to do anything else that will force his mind to focus on literally anything else- you don’t mention your own struggles with it, scratching at your neck, raking your nails across your back and down your arms, and quickly washing your hands as if that would get rid of any evidence of your little “episode”- a quick pause in what you were doing before the itch arose.

You arms is hooked over your shoulder, nails pressing onto your skin in a pleasurable sting that burns and flows through the middle of shoulder blades, your back blooming with a flush as your hand works its way across, your brows furrowing and heart racing ever so slightly, a slight little hiccup that starts and continues as your hand cramps and the music sounding through the room stops abruptly, the screen black and mirroring the reflection of the room, and off in the distance you hear muffled voices, your eyes widening and you dig your nails deep into your back and pull, leaving you gritting through your teeth, the need to scratch growing and fogging your mind and you rest your hand on your lap as the door opens immediately.

Bright, yellow eyes immediately land on you and you’re given a sharp toothed smile. “They’re here!” Himiko shouts, turning around, her sweater around her waist as she walks out your door and presumably into the apartment. “Told you they would be here.” Her voice is muffled but you can make out the pride in her voice at being right.

Your nails run over your cheek, light and only enough to feel a smidge of relief and with a lick of your lips, hand curling over your neck, nails poised and ready to leave marks, you turn and swipe a throw blanket, bunching it in front of your chest and walking towards your living room.

You're greeted with hellos and waves of hands. You smile brightly, your legs tense and hands bunching the blanket, you take a seat next to Tomura, who throws an arm around you immediately, pressing his lips over your jaw line. It’s a simple, light kiss that isn’t so much of a kiss but a press, a soft nuzzle as he tilts his head, his nose pressing into you and you can feel his lips move, a silent greeting. He pulls away and his hand curls around your shoulder, the other grabbing onto your leg and pulling it above his, fingers lingering and pressing onto your bare thigh.

You turn and press your lips against his shoulder- a recreation of what he did to you only seconds prior, your lips pursing, feeling the cotton under your lips and you pull away. “So what brings all of you to my humble abode?” You ask, throwing the blanket over the both of you, scooting closer to him, your hands resting on your lap, fingers already trailing upwards with short, chipped nail polished nails running over the soft skin, tracing down where a vein would be to glide upwards and rest on the crook of your elbow.

“We all just needed a break from all of that,” Himiko replies, playing with the sleeves of her sweater that rests on her lap. She continues when she sees your confused expression. “It’s just a bunch of paperwork and having to play nice and to be honest,” she straightens up and lets out a huffed sigh, “it’s getting real tiring.”

You let out a scoff, a smile playing at your lips. “Who knew having money would cause so much trouble,” you joke, your arm stinging with pleasurable pain, soft and burning as your nails drag themselves down. “So is that the reason you all visited? It’s been a while since I’ve seen all of you.”

Jin scoffs and his leg bounces rapidly, your own heart matching his pace and the corner of your eyebrow itches. “Yeah, well big boss over there,” he jerks his head where Tomura sits next to you, “doesn’t like when we visit you without him.”

Your hand lifts from under the blanket and you scratch at your brow, moving your hand to scratch behind your head, and then to space beside your ear and quickly shoving your hand under the blanket, dragging your hand across your thigh, ignoring the screaming itch that burns to be clawed at. “How sweet,” you turn to give Tomura a quick smile, “even Tomu-kun here gets jealous if you visit me without him.”

“I’m glad you’re getting such a rise out of it,” Tomura says dully, shifting on the couch and turning his head to have his nose gently poke at the side of your head. “How are things here? You like the apartment?” He asks, his hand coming to your thigh, accidentally nudging at your hand, his brace pulling and rubbing at the sensitive skin and you jerk away from him. He pulls away and gives you an odd look.

“Ha, sorry,” you mumble sheepishly. You clear your throat and nod your head. “Yeah, I like it here.” Your hand returns to your arm and you drag it down, feeling the bone that hides under your skin, the phantom touch of pressure fading slowly. “You didn’t have to get me a new one. I liked the old one just fine.”

He shrugs and his eyes close as he rests above you, his ring and pinky finger softly tapping against your inflamed skin. “This is one is closer and has a nice view for you.”

You nod and mumble a “thank you” to him, letting your arm go free and giving him a grateful squeeze on his arm. You turn your attention to the rest and your arm begins to sting painfully slow, a dull, throbbing pain as blood rushes under your marks. “How have things been with the rest of you?”

“Well I’m glad you asked,” Atsuhiro begins, mask coming off as he tosses a leg over the other. “As Himiko already stated, it is a bit much.”

“Do you mind if I get a drink?” Shuichi asks, already rising and walking towards the kitchen.

You smile and nod despite him having his back turned towards you. “You all know you’re free to get what you want. That hasn’t changed- even if you guys haven’t visited in a while.”

Atsuhiro makes a pleased noise and nods to himself. “Always so generous. I have to thank you for that.” He gives you a soft smile and you shake your head lightly so as to not disturb Tomura who rests against you.

You rake your hands down your arm and your shoulder jerks, the itching relief brie- fading all too fast for your comfort, not even a second where you get to breathe in the relief, gone and faded nd your nails dig into your arms and leave angry lines that flash against your skin. “You don’t have to. I was always happy to help you guys out.” You smile sweetly and the corner of your lip twitches. Your body aches all over, begging to be clawed at, to just have your nails drag against you and pull taut, to just feel the relief for a fraction of a second. “So go on,” you smile encouragingly, “tell me how it’s been.”

You try to focus on the words that leave Atsuhiro’s mouth- words that are interrupted and corrected with the others’ words. You focus and try to retain all the information, you hum and gasp at the correct times, nod your head eagerly and give a disapproving frown when you hear something you don’t like. You try to be a model audience, to give them their time to listen. That’s all you have to do- just listen and yet your skin screams louder than anything you’ve ever heard before- louder than cry, siren, scream. It yells and stings, aches and burns and without realizing it, your hand is dragging down your arm- nails curled and clawing, the relief growing greatly the more you do it- the harder and sharper you go and when you pull down wrongly, nail going in too deep and threatening to tear your skin you gasp and pull away as if you’d just been burned and it aches. It stings and tears pool in your eyes and you know that your arm must look awful.

A voice cuts through your thoughts and you have your gaze torn away from the wall behind Atsuhiro and you stare blankly as Dabi repeats himself. “Are you jerking him off or something?”

Your mouth parts and brows furrow. “Yes Dabi,” you start, a sarcastic tone in your voice accompanied by an eye roll. “I am currently jerking off Tomura under the blanket in front of all of you,” you emphasize the last few words and your nails press deeper into your arm, “because I’ve decided that while we could have our time in private, I would rather share it all with you. Oh heavens,” you feign shock and throw your arm that is free of nail marks over your eyes, “how ever did you figure it out.”

He rolls his eyes and leans forward, elbows resting on his knees as he stares at you. “I’m glad you wanted to share such an intimate moment with us but I think a video could have done the job.”

Your mouth pulls into a thin frown and slowly a smile creeps over as you shake your head and lean onto Tomura’s shoulder. “You’re lucky I like you, you know.”

Dabi gives you a crooked grin and stands from the couch. “I’m stealing some food.” He walks past you and gives you a firm pat on the head and you stick your tongue out at him.

“It’s not stealing if I let you.” Your smile is short lived when a hand wraps around your forearm. You turn your head and the tip of your nose brushes alongside Tomura’s whose eyes are open and staring into yours.

“Are you okay?” He asks in a raspy voice and his hold on you tightens. Your heart stops and you know that he knows. Your breath hitches in your throat and you rise suddenly, his grasp on your loosening and hand falling onto his lap.

It feels as if something walks alongside your neck, faint and brushing ever so gently and you scratch at your neck, eyes wide and face pale. “I’m fine,” you choke out. You turn to the rest who watch with interest and you your stomach drops, your body heats and you wrap the blanket over your arms and pull away. “I’m,” you drift off, taking a short step back, the walls closing in and eyes unblinking, “going to take a nap,” you finish lamely. “See y’all in an hour or whatever.”

You walk quickly to your room and close the door, you back pressed against the wood and you sigh, blanket tossed onto the bed and hands coming up to wrap around your body. It’s a small moment of relief- relief so sweet that you can understand an addiction, understand the high and need to return to it, one that leaves you salivating with nail marks etched onto your body like decorations.

Your arms stings, painfully so, nothing pleasurable and it brings tears to your eyes but you can’t stop. Your heart pulsing and eyes watering, shut tight and as your hands are raised in a horrible grasp, fingers bent and nails sharp and threatening, two hands wrap themselves around your forearms, pulling away from you and your eyes open.

You stand in silence with your back against a chest and you let out a small gasp, eyes coming to open and you stare at your mattress, focusing where a small part of it is crinkled and risen and your shoulders slump.

“Tomura?” You whisper, letting your hands go limp, alternating into a fist only to release it when the hands squeeze down at you.

“Your arms look terrible.” He lets your arms fall to your side and you lean against him, hands tapping against your skin in a nervous tic and you turn your head in a pitiful attempt to nuzzle into his chest. “Am I allowed to ask why?”

“I-” you want to give him a sarcastic answer but you don’t have the energy to- “It just happens sometimes. Usually when I get stressed. Sometimes out of nowhere. Other times when I get triggered by something.” You sigh and brush a strand of hair away from your face. “It’s no big deal, really. It’s been a while since I’ve had to deal with this.”

“And now?” He waits patiently for you to answer, hands coming to hold your waist. “Did we- Did I do something to trigger it?”

You shake your head. “Started a little bit before you came here.” You smile softly and you nudge your foot against his. “Maybe it’s like a partner thing. I mean,” you head tilts and you let your eyes close, “you do it too, right?”

He’s silent for a moment. “It’s not the same.”

“Isn’t it?” His hands run over your arms and you flinch. He mumbles an apology and you shake your head. “It’s fine. Just stings is all.”

“I like knowing that we have something in common but,” he starts turning you around gently, his hand coming to wrap around, resting against your back and the feeling to itch has faded substantially, “I don’t want it to be this.”

“What? You don’t like seeing us have matching marks?” You joke darkly, resting your temple over his beating heart.

“Stop it.” Your smile falls and your arms wrap him. Your words are muffled, soft and slurred together and your arms hurt. “It’s fine. I just- I don’t like seeing you all,” he pauses and his hand clutches your shirt, “scratched up.”

“It doesn’t feel good seeing you like that either, you know?”

He sighs and pulls out your grasp. You look up at him with tired eyes and a parted mouth, hands falling down and wrapping around yourself in a mock hug. He stares at you and his mouth opens and closes a few times before he shoves you lightly, your back hitting the edge of the bed and you get the hint.

You both rest on the bed, shoulders and arms meeting and his mouth is pulled into a thin line. His hand brushes along yours and you give him a glance, raising your brows and you watch him intently as he raises your arm and presses his lips against it. His chapped lips meet your sensitive skin and it pricks differently. It’s not sharp or stinging, it feels light and fluttering and makes your face burn. You turn and scrunch your face at the act of intimacy, breathing sharply as his lips kiss over the raw skin.

“So shy all of a sudden?” He coos, the tip of his tongue poking out and swiping at a scratch that burns against your warm skin.

“Don’t lick,” you huff, “it’s gross.”

“We can be gross together,” he laments, letting your arm fall from his grasp and when you turn to face him, his face sports a handsome blush. “I know how it must feel and promising not to do it is difficult, so,” he pulls a face at his words and stares at the door, “next time the urge happens, just message me or whatever.”

You smile softly and it slowly breaks into a soft laugh. You press yourself against his collarbone and place your legs above his.. “As long as you promise to do the same.”

“Of course,” he replies immediately. “Whatever you want as long as it’ll help.”

You stay next to him, the pads of his fingers pressing over your skin, tracing over the lines and following a pattern until they fade into you. He hushes your soft whines when you whimper at the feeling of his brace scraping over you. He presses his lips over the pull and blows cool air over, pulling your arm up and placing his lips over your palm in a chaste kiss. He steadies himself over you, runs his lips up to the tips of your fingers and pulls you close to him, his eyes drooping and hand falling free from his grasp as he comes to place his face into the crook of your neck, hair tickling at your nose.

“Just tell me when you need me, okay?” He whispers against your neck. “I’ll be there for you."

#shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki tomura headcanons #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki bnha #bnha imagine #bnha imagines #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki fluff #i hope you like it!!

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plush-rabbit · 4 years ago

Text

Can I Ask You Something?

You don’t bring up his days of absence. You’re content knowing that you might not ever know why he left and why he was so vulnerable to you days later. There are times when the phone calls have grown silent that you want to ask him what happened, the question on the tip of your tongue but the nerve to ask never comes. The words begin and die in you and you’re forced to make a joke or ask him a question about a game before the need to ask consumes you.

He’s been different too. More guarded about the way he speaks, words tight and closed, until you have to go away, and then suddenly he’s asking more about you, wondering where you’re going, who you’re going out with, pressing deeper until you’re laughing off his worries and telling him that you’ll message him later- a promise that you will. It calms him for the time being until your phone blows up an hour later asking where you are and you have to respond while your friends send you raised eyebrows before turning to each other and snickering and joking that you have a possessive partner. You roll your eyes at the partner part, waving them off and denying it, sending a rushed out message that you’re still out and another promise that you’ll message him when you’re home. The messages will stop for another hour until your phone is buzzing and you have to stifle your laughter as you ease his worries. Because that’s what it is- it’s worry. You tell yourself that it’s worry, that as friends who don’t hang out, of course he’d be worried if you were out.

You brought up his worry one day. You were careful with your words, not wanting to accuse him of anything, not wanting to push him further away from you. Treading carefully and forcing the words out before you had the chance to bow out. There’s a part of you that realizes that that isn’t a good thing. You shouldn’t have to tread carefully in a friendship- or in whatever you can call this. This friendship isn’t balanced- he holds too much power in this relationship and you have to wonder if he realizes it too.

“Hey, Tomu?” You ask, raising your voice as you wash the dishes, the water loud and rushing.

He grunts in response, background sounds of a slashing sound followed by grunts of pain, are distant and loud all at once.

“Why,” you wet your lips and scrub harder at the knife in your hand, “Why do you get so nervous every time I go out?”

His reply is instantaneous. “I don’t get worried.”

You roll your eyes. “Tomura, come on. Every time I go out, my phone always blows up every hour. And look,” you rush to say the next part before he has a chance to interrupt, “it’s not like I don’t mind. I’m glad that you care about me. It’s sweet, but what’s up?”

He silent and your eyes constantly flicker to the phone, waiting for him to respond and the knife in your hand slips and clatters among the empty glasses. “What was that?”

You roll your eyes. “Okay. You don’t have answer. I just- I’m glad you care about me in your like little, weird ways,” you chuckle, an attempt to lighten the mood, “but, I’m fine when I go out. I’ve gone out before and I’ve been fine then.” You don’t want to push him. He’s obviously not comfortable with the topic and the last thing you want is to make him uncomfortable. “It was a knife by the way. I’m washing dishes and it slipped.”

“Are you okay?” He sounds hesitant when he speaks and you frown.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I’m more worried about the glasses really.” He hums on his end. “Tell me about your day?” You suggest, rubbing your face with the back of your hand and letting out an annoyed sigh when water drops slide down your arm.

“Nothing special. Just sat around with… people I know. And kept track of the news.” He says, a whispered curse on the end of the sentence. “I won’t push as much with the questioning next time.”

You shut the tap off and flick water from your hands. “I’m- Look, I really do appreciate that you care. I’m glad to have a friend like you Tomura.” You pat your hands dry and grab the phone. “Anyways, changing topics. You seem to watch the news a lot, huh?”

“Don’t you?” He says, voice filled with sudden interest.

“Nah, I can’t. I mean obviously I will when it’s something major but most of the things on the news are like about villains and heroes and I rather not get into it.”

“You don’t like heroes?” His interest is rising with a sharp tongue.

“Um, it’s not that. I mean I’m sure there are some good heroes out there, like All Might—”

His snort cuts you off. “All Might is a fucking sham.” You can hear the hate in his voice, his words snapping out and cutting you off from further continuing your last statement.

“Oh.” You don’t know what to say. The hatred oozes out of his voice and you can tell that if you press on the topic, it won’t lead anywhere good. “I mean, I wouldn’t know. I don’t personally know him so I can’t make any judgment other than like what he shows on media. But every other hero is kind of like… How do I put it? Um, I guess they only do it for the fame? If that makes sense? Like you can tell when a hero saves people to save people versus when they save someone to like make themselves look good.” He’s silent. “I, um, you know, I’m the mood for some pho. You’ve ever had pho? It’s so good. There’s this nice restaurant nearby but I prefer to eat it at home.” You want the conversation to change. Your gut is telling you to change it, to move forward before something breaks and you can’t fix it no matter how much you try. You talk fast, hoping he’ll drop the previous topic and listen to you ramble. You hold your breath as you wait for him to reply.

“I think I’ve had it once,” he says after a moment. “Can’t really remember.” In the background you hear a creaking of the door and muffled speaking. He comes back clicking his tongue and the conversation has changed to the game he’s playing. You want to bury the anxiety in your stomach but you can’t, it remains unearthed and exposed. The back of your phone heats up, leaving a warm spot on your bed and you have to say goodbye, telling him that you’ll talk again soon. You end the conversation with a sore jaw and a melancholic silence that shrouds you like a thick, stuffy blanket.

It’s a nice day out, a bit chilly with a sun that gets covered by thick, slow moving clouds that provides perfect shade. A gentle breeze ruffles your hair and makes the leaves on the ground dance in a low twirl.

You stand next to the steps of your apartment, eyes searching for your friend and hands in pockets, one tightened around your phone waiting for a notification. You smile at your neighbor as they walk up the steps, and continue to watch the streets. In your pocket, your phone buzzes, and you pull it out quickly, swiping the screen and sticking your tongue out when it’s just Tomura’s message.

Tomura:

[Where are you going?]

You:

{Friends and I are just gonna buy like a bunch of snacks and hang out}

{We’ll probs watch movies or like anything that we can}

{I’ll be back later lmao so don’t miss me too much ༼♥ل͜♥༽ }

Tomura:

[Whatever]

You smirk and shake your head. In the corner of your eye, a car slows to a stop and you look up. The window lowers and you see the face of your friend who waves at you and beckons you to get inside.

You:

{Okay, I’m going out. I’ll probably talk to you later(^-^)ゝ}

Shigaraki doesn’t know why he’s suddenly on your case about your whereabouts. Why he needs to know if you’re home or not or if you’re still out with your friends. He tells himself that he doesn’t know why. He can be such a good liar when he wants to be. Lies that slip out of his tongue without a second thought. Lies that you’ll accept and believe, never one to pry unless he slips and even then you’re telling him it’s fine, that he doesn’t have to answer. You’re naïve. You’re too trusting to someone you’ve never officially met before. It’s an odd thing that he’s never encountered.

But he can’t lie to himself. He can’t bring himself too. He won’t allow himself. His truth will always scream at him, cover him in blood, and leave him biting on his abused lips. He’s gotten attached to you. He’s sick. He loves your trust in him, your naivety. He loves that you’ll accept anything that he tells you without a second thought. He’s infatuated with it. Obsessed with it. He wants this feeling to be sick. He needs it to be sick. He needs to believe that he still has control over himself- that someone as ordinary as you can’t make him feel soft. Can’t make him long for something he doesn’t even know what it is he’s longing for.

He knows why he needs to know. He’s attached to you. Attached how you say his name, how you call him a friend, how you never get mad at him, you never express any negative emotion other than light chastising. He tried to separate himself, he tried to decay his phone, to throw it against a wall, to do anything that would cut you off. But he couldn’t bring himself to. He doesn’t want to care about you. But you would still care about him. You’ll still offer yourself to him. He can’t leave you and it’s killing him.

He doesn’t know what this feeling is. He doesn’t know if it’s infatuation, lust, love, obsession. Every time he thinks about it, his head hurts and he wants to vomit. He wants to destroy something. He doesn’t know.

You hold power over him- a civilian holds power over him and it’s laughable and pathetic all at once.

But then you voice your concerns and he can fix that. He can change the way he speaks. But your concerns are still masked with concern for him- appreciation for him. And his mind is a mess.

You’re going out. You’re going to shop for an hour, go to your friends and spend the day there and late at night, you’ll be home. It’s enough time for the plans to be executed without risking you being caught in the crossfire. Enough time that he can make sure you stay safe.

The sun begins to set casting an orange and pink glow across the sky and the plan is now in preparation. He reads your message. He is going to miss you. He won’t say it out loud- won’t even admit it to himself but he’ll miss you.

The plan is executed without any major hiccups. Things go according to plan and he can feel city crumble little by little underneath his touch. He’s smiling wide underneath his mask as the League returns to the base and he can’t wait to indulge himself with you- can’t wait to tell you the truth and say he had a productive day, a great day even.

He waits for your message while having drinks with the League, an untouched drink with melting ice sits in front of him and he listens to harsh laughter and as they recount their version of the story. He checks his phone waiting for a message from you, growing impatient and sick. He’s suffocating while being surrounded by others. With shaky hands, he pulls Father off and lays him next to the untouched drink.

It’s late. Late enough for you to be home already. It’s late and you promised to message him- yet you haven’t. He grinds his teeth.

“Hey Shigaraki! Are you all right? You keep checking your phone, you doing okay?” Twice asks, white eyes narrowing and widening as he talks, legs bouncing underneath the table causes the amber liquid to swish in the glass cup.

“Quit shakin�� the table Twice,” Dabi mutters, throwing the harsh liquid down his throat. “He’s probably just playing some fucking game or whatever.”

Red eyes narrow and fingers underneath the table twitch to reach over to Father. He wants to open his mouth and snap put a comment but instead he holds his tongue, going back to check his phone which is still silent and devoid of any notifications from you.

“Oh, maybe he has a new friend?” Toga asks, running a hand down her hair, looking up at Shigaraki with a cheeky smile.

Shigaraki can feel his patience thinning when Dabi snorts. “Oh I’m sure it’s a new friend,” he says with knowing grin. Blue eyes rival his own red ones, and despite everything, Shigaraki freezes with a finger over his phone and a held tongue.

His feet plant on the floor and just as he’s about to rise, his phone vibrates. “Fuck off,” he mutters, slipping the phone into his pocket and grabbing Father, nails digging into it as he walks away. He doesn’t look at his phone until he’s in the privacy of his room.

In his room, he’s almost giddy, hands shaking as he unlocks his phone, Father placed gently on his side, the side of his hand gently touching his thigh.

There’s no message from you. It’s just a notification for a game he plays, informing him that an event is about to end. He frowns. He pulls up your messages and look at the last message you sent. The blinking cursor mocks him.

“It’s late. They probably fell asleep,” he tries to reason to himself, hands curling in on themselves and neck starting to itch.

He checks his phone obsessively throughout the night, waiting for you to message him until his eyes bur and head hurts- a dull throbbing pulse that makes it harder for him to think rationally. He’s sent you messages starting off with a simple greeting moving to a more direct questioning about what you’re doing. He still gets no reply from you. His phone blinks red at him, notification popping and screen dimming as it alerts him that his battery is running low.

He can feel acid rise up in his throat and eyes twitch as his mind is flooded with obsessive thoughts. He wants to- needs to know where you are. Why haven’t you answered him? Why- Hands freeze in place and bright red lines decorate his pale skin.

“You’re busy. That’s it. You’ll message me again.” It’s the mantra that he tells himself, repeating it like a prayer, begging and reassurance to himself that he’ll wake up with a message from you tomorrow.

You don’t reply until late in the evening. Your messages are sent right after the other, buzzing loudly on his wooden desk. He sneers at the phone and wants to make you wait. He waited for you so it’s only fair you should wait for him. But the more his phone buzzes, the more his resolve weakens. The more his curiosity wins over and phone is displaying your messages right after the other.

You:

{Hey!!}

{Oh my god, I’m so sorry I didn’t message last night but oh my god!!}

{You’ll like never believe what happened!!}

{I’ll give you a hint}

{It involves me and a villain attack;)}

His eyes shoot open and he’s pressing the call button without thinking. His breathing is ragged and blood is pumping throughout his body. He’s tense and shaking all at the same time, muscles tightening painfully and bottom lip between teeth and he can taste iron.

You answer on the first ring.

“Tomura!” You sound happy about getting to talk to him. Why? “Never thought I’d see the day you called me without having to ask. What’s the occasion?” You sound coy.

“Villain attack?” He rasps out, eyes into narrow slits, bottom lip red and plump.

“Oh god. It was like… wild!” Your voice is growing distant and he can’t think. He can’t hear his thoughts. He can’t hear your words. Father is on his face and he still feels sick. You’re babbling in the background. You’re telling him important information and all he can do is sit there as his mind is clouded and stomach is twisting into knots and his mouth is acidic and burns.

He can’t think. Words leave his mouth before he can even register them, before he can even think about he’s doing. “Video chat.”

“Vid- Oh! Sure!” You sound excited. “You still have my user right? I’ll send you a call in a second!”

You hang up. The room is loud, filled with his heart pumping erratically and blood pumping in his ears. He wants to retch. He clicks the video icon and scratches at the desk as he waits for the site to load, the sick feeling in his stomach growing until he feels like he’s in pain.

Your profile picture takes up the screen and instincts take over. He clicks the accept button and your face appears on screen.

You’re fixing your hair, and you take a swig from your water bottle, tossing it to the side. Your eyes dart to the side and glance at the screen, visibly brightening up when you see the call has been accepted. “Hey!” You’re smiling at him and you have a bandage on your cheek. “I’m surpri- Oh.” Your face falls and you look visibly taken aback, eyes blinking owlishly at him. Your voice is quieter as you speak, “Hey Tomura.”

He squints at you and you point a finger to your face, your mouth parted slightly open with eyes wide. He’s confused, why would- Oh. His covers his own face, arching to make room for Father but he isn’t there. How would you even know- Fuck. His eyes dart to the corner of the screen and his image stares back at him. He looks at you and face twists into something unpleasant, an insult on the tip of his tongue.

“Are—” you clear your throat— “Are you not comfortable with me seeing your face yet?” You look to the side and cover your side vision with your hand. “I can pretend I didn’t see!”

You saw him. You saw him and you’re not ending the call. You’re sitting there with a hand covering your peripheral vision as a courtesy to him. He swallows and for an odd reason, he doesn’t feel as sick as he did prior.

“It’s fine.” He says, tongue clicking and mouth dry. “Put your hand down. You look dumb.”

You chuckle and look back at him, gaze softening and eyes scanning his face. You frown and he frowns. “Your neck is red. Are you okay?”

“It’s a quirk thing.” He says without thinking, an automatic reply.

“Oh. Okay. As long as you’re okay.” The way you pout and continue to stare at his neck shows that you don’t believe him. This is a new type of vulnerability- one that he’s never experienced before and it makes him feel weird all over. “I uh- Wow. I’m sorry. I’m staring, that’s so rude of me. I just- I’ve never seen you and you look- wow.”

He remembers the first video call and how he wanted to see you squirm, to make you uncomfortable with his harsh voice that would mock you. He wonders if this is how you felt. Odd and wanting to hide. But you aren’t condescending. You’re just looking at him and frowning whenever your eyes dart to his scarred neck.

“You know, if it’s a quirk thing, I think aloe vera might help. I prefer to get it from the plant and like chill it in the fridge. It helps a lot with redness and stuff. Or you could always look up tips online—” Your eyes widen and mouth pulls into a thin line as your face turns a bight red. “Oh god! I didn’t mean to like make you feel uncomfortable or anything! It’s just— I get that some quirks can have a side effect and—”

“What happened to your face?” He needs to know.

“Heh, of course.” You wave yourself off. “God, this was so dumb of me.” You take in a deep breath. “Okay, so like halfway through our movie night my friend gets a notification that there’s this like mini festival out in a park and it isn’t all that late so we go. Anyways! Long story short, we go and spend time there and I go get some lemonade- which I like dropped and hate myself for it because it was so good Tomura!” He gives you a look and you give him a sheepish smile. “Okay, back to the story, I get lemonade and there’s like this big explosion sound and people are running and I’m a very panicky person so I kind just freeze and then I’m shoved and I start running in the direction people are like basically leading me in but I stumble and trip and I skin my knee and like I’m hoisted up by someone and like the next thing I know is there’s blue fire and like I feel like I’m seeing double because I see double! But that could be because I fell but whatever. And like I realize ‘Oh! These people have a death wish!’ Which I mean same, but like damn. So I try to run back to the little festival thing to find my friends but I get shoved and I fall again and I my cheeks gets like a bit cut up—” you motion to the bandage on your face— “And my friends find me and we go back to my friends place and my phone like ran out of battery and I didn’t have my charger and yeah.” You exhale and smile at him. “The end!” You still look chipper as you end your story.

He’s silent. Blue flames. For fuck’s sake. He’s furious. Furious at Dabi. Furious at you. Furious at the people who pushed you there. Furious at himself. He wants to drag his hand across his body and rip out his skin. He wants to wrap his hands around you and watch as you decay. He wants to start a fight with Dabi. You fucking saw double. You fucking saw Twice or his stupid fucking clones. He wants to fucking—

“Tomura?” Eyes snap at you and you flinch, eyes wide and hands in front of you as if to protect yourself. He spares a glance at the corner of the screen and finds himself to look twisted with bared teeth and eyes that have gone dark. “Are-Are you okay? You look a bit sick. Listen, I didn’t meant to worry you or anything, I just didn’t want to lie to you.”

“I,” his voice is strained and stomach churns, “I’m not worried.”

“Tomura, come on. It’s okay to worry. We’re friends.” You give him a soft smile and inch closer to the screen. “If you got hurt, I’d be worried too.” He’s biting the inside of his cheeks. “I’m fine. I wasn’t even hurt by the villain attack and I hardly saw anything, just the aftermath,” your voice is soft, much softer than before- you’re trying to calm him down. “I’m okay Tomura. All I have is a skinned knee and cheek.”

Shigaraki takes a shaky breath and the red in his vision begins to fade. “Fuck the people who tripped you,” he spits out.

“Yeah, but what can you do. People like to be involved in things and I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. The only thing I’m really sad about is the lemonade.” You stick out your tongue and with closed eyes, you lean against the bedframe.

“You face is fucked up and you care about the stupid drink?”

“Tomu,” you whine, “you don’t understand! It was so good and the right amount of sweetness and sourness,” your face forms into a pout and shoulders slump, “I hadn’t even drank like half of it.”

His eyes are trained on your face, tracing over the bandage with frayed edges. “Why are you wearing the stupid bandage if you’re not that hurt?”

“Oh! My friends were worried it might get infected so I’m leaving it on until I have to get some sleep.” Your fingers played with the edges of the bandage, flicking the edges and scratching at the corners of it. “Anyways, enough about me!” You clasp your hands together and smile at him. “You look a lot different that I would’ve imagined!”

“Last time I asked what you thought I looked like, you said that was a dumb question.” Now that his emotions have calmed down, he hates what you did to him. He hated the anxiety that you brought upon him.

“Well yeah, but I never would’ve imagined you had red eyes!” You squint at him and give him a teasing smile. “It makes you look edgy but like a cool edgy.” You giggle at your own comment behind your hand.

“I do not look edgy.” He wants to get mad and brush you off but you’re here and you saw him and you’re not turning your nose up in disgust, you’re not screaming or ending the call- you’re calling him edgy and smiling at him.

“Yeah you do.” You cock your head to the side and examine him. He wants to hide his face but then you would leave, and he doesn’t want to let you go- he can’t. “You have that cute little scar, long hair, a raspy voice— Oh my god, you’re an e-boy!”

His breath gets stuck in his throat and hands flinch and curl in on themselves. “Not an e-boy,” he mutters, curling his upper lip. “I fucking hate you,” he spits out.

“No, you don’t,” your voice takes on a lilt, and he wants to log off the call. “You care about me because I’m your friend.” You stick your tongue out at him and give him a wide grin.

He doesn’t hate your smile. He wants to see more of it. He wants you to smile more at him. “Whatever dumbass,” he mutters as he tries to stop the slow upward curve of his lips.

“Well I’m glad that me getting injured meant that I got to see your face.” You give a fake cough and clear your throat. “I know you probably didn’t want to show me because you even look startled about it, but I uh, I appreciate it. I know you probably don’t want my app—”

“Thanks.” He runs a hand over his throat, the pads of his fingers rubbing over the thin wounds.

He likes your smile. He likes the way you lean into the screen when he talks, always smiling and looking at him. He wants more of it. He needs more of it. He doesn’t know how he got so attached. Was it the late night calls? Was it you treating him like a normal person when he isn’t? You got hurt. You got hurt because he miscalculated. You’re hurt. But you worried about his neck. You averted your eyes when you saw him. You wanted to give him privacy. He needs to keep you safe. He needs to not make it weird. He needs to protect you. Oh fuck. His heart is beating rapidly and he’s scared that it’ll stop any second. He wants you to stop smiling at him but he can’t get enough of it. He can’t get enough of you.

“I think we should meet up,” he says without thinking.

“Oh?” You tilt your head to the side and he wants to take his words back. “Are you sure? I’m cool with waiting—”

“I’m sure.” He’s shaking but he maintains eye contact with you. He feels a shiver go up his spine when you smile at him.

“Okay,” you nod, “we can meet up. You got a date in mind Tomura?”

“How—”

“Wait! Do we even live close to each other?”

He nods his head and wet his lips. He utters the city name and you visibly brighten and exclaim that it isn’t so far. You talk and ramble, planning out things and looking at your calendar to check when you’re free. You’re smiling at him and you’re excited to see him and you won’t stop talking about the things you could do together. His bites the inside of his cheeks to prevent the smile from taking over and he doesn’t know how to feel.

Tagged:

@rogueofbullshit

@loveableasshole

@yul-is-sparkling

@noonewouldlisten25

@noodlenerd101

@localdisaster

@snackgod

@iikillerkitteh

@ drapetomaniaac

@shigaraki-is-my-master

#shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki bnha #bnha shigaraki tomura #can i ask you something #ciays #do i still have to link things?#god #this story is getting long #sorry for the slow burn #this qualifies as slow burn right?#probs #okay #bye!#sorry if i tagged you and you didn't want to be #just let me know and ill take you out #i can never find part 2 #rip

155 notes · View notes

plush-rabbit · 4 years ago

Text

Can I Ask You Something?

Friendships are an odd thing. It starts off as an unexpected meeting between two strangers, where you later begin to learn more about this person who was just a stranger a few moments ago, to trusting that person wholeheartedly; to do whatever you can to make them happy. It’s a wonderful thing where you’re in love with said person, willing to hold their hand in public, kiss their cheek, go to them first when you have news of any kind. Where a mere memory of them is enough to make you smile, where after not seeing each other for a moment is enough to make you want to hug them, where you can feel safe in their arms. You meet a person by chance and they end up becoming one of the most important people in your life. Friendships are built on trust. Built on sharing snacks. Built on inside jokes. Built on love.

Your friendship with Tomura, however, isn’t any of that. It’s different than friendships you’ve had before. It was a meeting that you forced and that he complied with. Where you have doubts about the friendship- or whatever you can call this relationship when the word feels to sour on your tongue- and you don’t know what he’s thinking or what he looks like. Where you lay awake after late night talks and can feel a storm brew in your mind as you lay under the covers and think about him. It’s a relationship built on messages and the occasional phone calls. You don’t know if you can trust this person. You want to and sometimes when you hear his laughter, you think that you know him- you can trick yourself that you know who he is. You’re okay with sharing snacks with anybody- you like to share, you like to eat a cake and leave your friends the piece with the most frosting. There are jokes that you’ve two shared- ones where you snort and call him a dork and ones where he laughs- it’s shrill and a bit creepy if you were to be honest- and he calls you a dumbass and you can hear the faint sound of people yelling in the background that you never comment on.

When you were lonely, you reached out and he reluctantly let you grab onto him. You held tight and now you’re afraid to let go. You’re afraid that he’ll let go and a part of you that won’t remain silent no matter how many times you smother it, never wants him to let go of you. You’ve become oddly attached to the faceless man.

Tomura is crass, curses as if it were his first language, secretive as if he were protecting himself, curious as a cat, prying into you with delicacy and cunningness, never realize what he’s doing until you’re halfway through a story. He’s rough around the edges, making sure to bare his canines when you begin to pry. But no matter how many times he barks, no matter the little insults that leave his mouth, insults that longer hold the same sting as they used to be before, you inch closer to him. You always feel a second away from offering another video chat- this time where you can see who he is. You want to see who he is behind the screen.

However, at the same time, you’re scared who you’ll see. You’re scared that perhaps he’s a ghost from your past, someone who you wanted to leave behind that you’ve forgotten their voice and they’ve found a new name to use as a mask. You worry with dread creeping at your ankles on the good nights that the person who you can joke with is someone with cruel intentions. Other nights, you drown in panic and wish to grasp at him like a lifeline, only for the worry to drag you deeper, his face always muddled and hand always out of reach.

You wonder what he thinks of you. What his true thoughts are behind the jabbing insults and hissed out curses but you’re always too afraid to ask, too afraid what the truth will reveal.

Within the next week, there’s idle chatter in between the early mornings and late nights. Chatter where it fills the room with such ease. Chatter that dies and fills the room with silence, noises from the house are the only indicators that you both are still on the call. Chatter where it gets cut off due to your own responsibilities or his. A promise from you that you’ll try to message him later if time allows it and a click of his tongue as he tells you he’ll talk later.

The relationship gets easier day by day. Sometimes the word friend rolls of your tongue without you even realizing it- it feels natural to call him that. Other days, you’re hesitant to even say the word- to even think of what it truly means. It catches and sticks in your throat, suffocates you and leaves you feeling odd all over. Days where his name is light and sweet on your tongue, days where it’s bitter and uneasy. It’s easier to say a nickname those times; it doesn’t hold as much power as his actual name.

Talking to him gets easier- even if his name makes you unable to breathe. There are more phone calls, even if they’re short. You get to hear him talk about his day, talk about what he’s currently doing and most of the time he’s playing a game and he’ll entertain you with the plot, with the lore and the graphics. You do your own research on the side, your gasps telltale signs that you looked up what happens in the end and him snapping at you immediately not to spoil anything. You never do, always giving a vague hint to look behind a box if he wants an achievement or extra ammo. But you never give him tips. You offered once and he denied, saying that he wanted a true victory and not a false one where he had to rely on an external source. The ways he says it, with a heavy voice that takes a darker tone, makes it feel as if you’re missing out on something. You lay off, telling him that you’ll be there if he ever needs help, hoping that your own tone will hold the same hidden meaning that his held.

“Okay, so what I’m hearing is that not only do you play video games like twenty four-seven—”

“Not twenty four-seven,” he growls but the sound of guns in the background does nothing to help prove his point.

“—and you watch anime and you basically like never leave your home? You’re like a total NEET,” you giggle into the phone, phone pressed between your shoulder and ear. You tighten your hand around the bar when the subway wobbles and around your bag of takeout when someone shuffles in the corner of your eyes.

“Not a ‘NEET’,” Tomura says, hissing into the receiver and you can hear the scene restart. “Look, if I’m a NEET then so are you.” He curses loudly into the phone and you wince, eyebrows furrowing and mouth pulling into a wince that he can’t see.

“You know,” you voice takes on a sing-song tune, “if you need help, I’m more than happy to give you a hint.” Your eyes flicker upwards, reading the poster taped on the wall and flickering down to a baby bouncing on their father’s lap. “If you descri—”

“It’s fine,” he drones. “Besides, you aren’t even home yet… Are you?” On your side of the phone you hear him slurp on something and a clatter of glass.

“No, not yet,” you confirm, “I’m like a stop away.” You lick your lips and glance out the window, sighing when the outside world still blurs by. “And I like totally fu-messed up too,” you pull a face at your almost swear, glancing at the baby who remains unbothered and father who checks his watch. “I forgot I had my headphones with me so like instead of talking to you through the mic, I have the phone pressed up against my ear and shoulder.” You stumble when the train comes to a slow, jostling people awake and others slipping their phones into their pockets. “My phone is gonna be all greasy and gross Tomu,” you whine, bouncing your leg and clutching the plastic bag tighter in your hand.

“I don’t know why you didn’t just have it delivered,” he grumbles.

“Because I was already—sorry, sorry,” you mumble with your head bowed as you weave out of the subway, wincing each time the plastic bag nudges at your leg, “I wasn’t thinking and I was already in the neighborhood.” You stand next to a wall, hands searching in your bag for your pair of headphones.

“Dumbass,” he snickers into the phone.

“Yes, yes. I’m very dumb,” you mumble, tongue sticking out as you untangle the wires, careful not to pull too harshly. “Now give me a sec, lemme connect my headphones.” You let out a sigh and begin your trek to your apartment. You smooth and the wires and speak into the mic. “Okay, I’m back. I miss anything? Finally beat that level?” You tease, a skip in your step as you wait for his reply to come. It’s silent for a moment too long. “Toma? You there, bud?” Still no answer. You step to the side of the sidewalk and see that call is still going on. “If you were gonna step out, should’ve at least waited to tell me,” you mumble to yourself, a frown tugging on your lips.

You disconnect the call and send a quick message to Tomura to call you later when he had the chance. You keep your headphones in your ear for the rest of your walk home, humming a soft tune and hoping that no one would stop you.

Shigaraki comes back to his phone with a reflection that stares back at him, a hand covering most of his face and a red eye that glares back at him. The screen is black and he pulls the hand off with a sigh, letting it hover over his chest before placing it delicately on the desk.

He frowns when the call has ended, the contact screen staring at him and a message icon is on his notifications. He reads your message with a neutral expression and checks the time. Thirty minutes until they go on a mission.

Your phone rings twice before you pick up with a cheery, muffled hello.

“Why’d you hang up?” He asks, getting straight to the point, fingertips drumming on the desk, eyes looking into the computer screen where he last paused. He hears the clinking of glass and wonders if you’ve already arrived home.

“Because I was on the call for like a minute or two until I figured I hit bad cell reception or you like had to do something,” you pause for a moment. “Was I wrong?” Your voice is muffled and he suspects that you are home and you’re eating. “What happened?”

A mission brief. One that went on long enough for you to hang up and be in the middle of your meal when he called. A pale hand reaches over to grab Father, placing it back on his face, instant relief and sickness coming to him all at once. “I had things to do,” he answers.

“Right. Things,” you say sarcastically and he can hear the smile in your voice. “Could’ve sent me a message or something. You don’t have to like just disappear on me,” you chuckle.

He hums and nods to himself. “Are you going out tonight?” He asks, closing his eyes, a hand twisting the shirt into his palm.

“Nah, why? Did you want to have a long call this time?” He stares at the cracked ceiling with disinterest. “I wouldn’t mind but—”

“I have something to do soon.” He flexes his hand in front of him and runs his thumb through his fingertips.

“Oh.” He hears you hum. “Why did you ask if I was going out then?”

His eyes shoot open and he stands straight. Why did he ask? He knows why. He can feel his breathing grow heavier, breaths ragged and throat tight. There’s a mission later tonight. Without thought, his hand wraps around his neck and nails drag across his skin, he lets out a low whine in response, pinpricks of scarlet bead out.

“Tomu?” You sound genuinely concerned. “Are you all right?” Fuck. “Did you hit yourself?” Fuck. “Tomura if you don’t say anything, I’m gonna think you’re dead. So like, can you please respond?” With a mind of its own, his hand pulls away, nails and fingertips shining with his blood. “Tomura if you left again without telling me I’m gonna be like,” you pause for a second, “annoyed.”

“What do you want?” He hisses out, hand dripped in blood curls into a claw.

“Oh thank god.” He hears you sigh. “I was worried you like fell or someone had broken into your place. Are you okay?”

“Why do you care?” His lip curls in disgust and the hand on his face makes him feel sick, stomach churning and bile rising in his throat.

“Because you’re my friend.” You make it sound like it’s the most obvious thing. “All I hear from you is like silence for a while followed by a whine. I thought you were hurt,” you mumble, your tone is small, like a child who is being scolded.

He’s silent for a long time and his mouth burns, warm liquid seeps out and trickles down his neck. He feels sick.

“Hey,” your voice is soft, “if you’re not feeling good, we can talk tomorrow if you want? Sound good Tomu-”

He hangs up without a goodbye. The little finger that doesn’t touch the phone shakes. His heart is beating rapidly against his chest and it hurts. He wants to throw the phone at the wall and stomp on it until it’s broken in millions of pieces. He wants to decay the phone in his hands. He wants to- He takes in a sharp breath and closes his eyes, his anger still rising and threatening to boil over and cloud his mind. The phone is tossed on his bed and the door shuts behind him with a loud crack.

You don’t hear from him for few days. All your messages are unseen and unanswered. You dialed him the day after, left a few messages asking if he was all right and any other variation that you could think of. You’re too scared to actually dial him now; a sick feeling in your stomach when you think back to the last conversation that you had with him.

He cut you off so quickly. You were sure that this friendship was on the better half than it was when you both initially had met. Heck! He had even begun to talk about his days unprompted and would answer you when you would call to talk about nothing. But then he was silent and made a noise like he had gotten surprised at best or hurt at worst. You didn’t want him to be hurt. But with the way he wasn’t answering your messages and not even looking at them was making you feel sick every day. And it wasn’t like you could send someone of authority over since you didn’t even know his address or full name.

“God, this sucks,” you grumbled, running a hand over your face and gritting your teeth. Your fingers tap nervously on the side of your thigh, something to keep you in rhythm. “Maybe I’m overthinking this,” you tried to reason to yourself but the pit inside kept growing. “He’s always been secretive maybe he had a surprised vacation planned or like a family emergency.” You can feel the heat in the tips of your ears burn. You bring your hands up, your fingers tracing over the shell, noise muffled for a brief second. “He’s fine,” you tell yourself, voice firm and hands in fists, “I’m being silly.” You nod as if giving clarification to a statement said into the air will make it that much more true. “Plus, it’s not like I can do anything except for wait for him to message me back.” You don’t want to think about the “or” part of that sentence. Anything could be added after “or” and none of the options were good.

It’s silent in your room; your face is illuminated by the dim glow from your laptop. It burns hot on your blanket and provides you with additional warmth that soothes your nerves. Your eyes burn with sleep and head begins to hurt, fatigued by sleep and light that shines directly on your face. Your body grows heavy, eyelids begin to droop and your phone is fully charged, the green light shines bright and is unblinking as you stare at it. Your eyes glance down to the corner of the screen, the time blinks at you, flipping quickly into a minute in the future. Your eyes are back to the phone. You can feel the bags beneath your eyes droop, feeling that if you stay awake for any longer your own body will pull you into the bed until you’re a mess of limps entangled in a plush blanket.

Your phone remains silent and unmoved and you can feel you heart actually hurt. It feels as if it’s being squeezed; it’s a soft squeeze that leaves you taking in a bigger gulps of air, but the nails that dig in, that peel away at it the top layer and leave it exposed, is what truly makes it ache.

There’s been no contact from him in the past few days. The first day went by without worry, he’s done it before where you wouldn’t hear from him for hours and you assumed that perhaps he had been busy all day and fallen asleep afterwards. Messages were left unopened and you were disappointed but it was nothing to fret over. The second day, messages were still unanswered and the call you sent had gone straight to voicemail. The worry had dugs its claws into you at that point. One the third day, the first few messages were left unseen. The phones calls afterwards would ring for too long, making you sick with worry and a bottom lip that was bitten and stained your mouth in bright red. On the fourth day, you hadn’t bothered to send a message, reasoning that he would message you when he was ready. If he was ever was. The day bleeds into the night, your mind distracted by trips to stores for house necessities.

It’s late, the moon high in the sky surrounded by clouds and stars as you lay in bed, consumed by an online video. The screen dims, a notification popping in the corner to alert you that the battery in running low. With a click of your tongue, you put your laptop to sleep, the screen loading into your lock screen before going dark, the power light grows dim and you’re staring at your reflection in darkness. Your eyes adjust quickly and you close it softly, sucking in air through closed teeth when the bottom heats the pad of your fingers. It’s shoved off to the side, and you’re alone in the darkness. Hands search for the cord, fingers tracing a line down until it reaches the plug and it’s pulled out, tucked into the handle of your dresser with a soft clink of metal against wood. In the darkness, your thoughts begin to creep up, hands that grip at every part of your body and send both a mixture of chills and heat, it freezes you, makes you clammy and all at the same time makes you uncomfortably hot and twitchy. Dull nails are dragged across the blanket in an attempt to calm your nerves, the little moment of relief is well received. You repeat the motion, letting yourself indulge in the noise.

Your mind grows foggy and soon the repetitive motions become sluggish until your fingers twitch, once, then twice before coming to a still. You’re asleep for a wonderful thirty minutes where the promises of dreams start to lure you in. And then your phone buzzes to life. It’s a shrill ring that you set to make sure if anything had happened while you were unawake, the noise will wake you up and you’d respond to whoever it was on the other side.

It comes to an abrupt stop, the other person on the line having given up but then it rings again. Your body wakes first, hands searching blindly until the phone is pushed and falls onto the floor. You wince and search for the lamp, the light making you close your eyes and mouth pulled into a grimace. With a look downwards, you sigh when your phone has landed face up. Your body threatens to fall off the bed as you reach to pick up the still ringing phone. There are no cracks on the screen, still pristine and clear as you analyze the screen and through bleary eyes, you read the caller ID.

Tomura.

Your eyes shoot open and hands reach for the phone, a quick swipe of the green button. “Hello?” Your voice is slurred and heavy with sleep. You clear your throat. “Hello?” Oh god, please let him be okay, please.

“You sound tired.” He sounds forced- as if he had to push the words out of his throat.

You arch your brows and bite back a groan. “…Do you know what time it is?” Without meaning to, a yawn escapes you and you lay back down on your bed, your eyes struggling to stay open as you wait for his reply.

“Right.” He sounds distant and your worry bubbles over.

You lick your lips and glance to the night stand where an empty water bottle lays on its side. “Tomura? Can I ask you something?” You shift in your bed and pull the covers up to your chin.

“Whatever.”

You let out a low sigh. “What happened? You were gone for like a while.” Sleep slowly vanishes from your mind but it remains foggy, unable to filter what’s you’re trying to say. “You don’t have to like tell me, but I was worried that something had happened to you or like I don’t know, that you like just wanted to stop talking to me and,” you push the blankets off you and lean against the wooden bedframe, “I… Are you okay?”

He’s silent on his end. His breathing is the only thing that you can hear, it’s steady and it eases you a bit to know that he’s still on the line. Silence has filled your conversations with him plenty of times. They’ve been awkward, unnerving, but they’ve also been comfortable, reminding you that you’re not alone and that he’s still there. This silent however is just silent. There’s no reassurance that he’s okay; just that he’s still here. Sleep is fading in and out, a gentle tide that nudges you awake for a few seconds longer before receding back and lulling you back to your sleep.

“I’m okay,” he croaks out and in the background you hear a loud creak.

“Promise?” You ask, eyebrows knitting together and hands once again scratching at the blankets that warm you.

“Why do you care?” His voice is small as he speaks to you.

“Because you’re my friend,” you tell him, “I care about my friends Tomu. And you’re my friend so by like definition, I care about you.” You ran a hand through your hair, smoothing out your hair. “I- Am I your friend?” You take in a deep breath and run your thumb across the side of your finger. “You like don’t have to answer that now, I just—”

“Yes.” His voice is tight but clear. “I- You are.” You hear let out a shaky breath.

Your lips curve in a gentle smile. “I’m glad.” Tears still prick at the corner of your eyes and make your vision blur, you’re unsure if it’s from the sleep that still clings onto you or the emotional side of you that always makes itself more apparent in the dead of night.

“You sure you’re okay? You sound… different.” Different is the nice way to put it. He sounds defeated and lost. When he’s silent, you press. “Bad night?” You offer as a way to expand on what he’s feeling, a way to help him.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.” He says wearily, a loud yawn that confirms his tone.

“You wanna talk about it?” Your mind and body begs for sleep. “If you want of course. I don’t mind staying up.”

“It’s late.” It sounds like he finally realized what time it was, voice suddenly tired and thick with sleep.

“Yeah, Tomura, it’s really late.” You lie on your side, legs curled in and eyes are barely able to stay open. “But like, I’m already awake. The offer still stands, you know.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow?” He asks, his voice returning to that akin to a child, hopeful and nervous all at once.

“Yeah, that would be nice.” You chuckle lightly. “Just like don’t flake out this time, okay?” You joke.

“I uh, yeah. I won’t flake. I promise.” The last words are soft, as if he didn’t want you to hear or even want to acknowledge what he had said himself.

“Okay. I’ll hear from you tomorrow.” With a burst of late night courage, you open your mouth. “Remember, you promised. And you can’t break a promise- especially to a friend.”

You hear him laugh, it’s muffled but it’s genuine. It doesn’t sound creepy to you this time, it sounds pleasant. “Yeah, I won’t.” There’s a brief second of silence. He wishes you goodnight and whispers your name. There’s a skip in your chest when says it and a grin grows on your face, slowly etching itself onto you.

“Yeah, okay. Goodnight Tomura.” A second of peace passes where you can breathe easy and you hang up first; the phone blinks the time that you’ve talked to him before going dark. You slide the phone onto your nightstand and the blanket bunches under hands as you curl in deeper into the bed, eyes closing without resistance and mind clear and chest light.

Tagged:

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