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obsessedtomone · 10 months ago

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Unravel Yourself Before Me ⛓️ Chapter 8 - Close Call▸Shigaraki x femReader

Chapter Summary:

◤ From the moment he saw you in the convenience store, he’d already labeled you as a major pain in the ass.

The way you stared back at him in disgust—the way everyone fucking stared at him—like he was some piece of garbage to be thrown out, made him want to strangle you until he saw the light leaving your eyes.

You must’ve thought you were so fucking cool, talking back to him when you had no clue who he was or what he’s capable of.

Just another one of those irritating clueless fucking NPCs. ◢ Setting: University AU - No quirks (unless degenerate personalities count) Tags: Slow burn, Eventual Smut, Unhealthy/Toxic Relationships, Humiliation, Mentally Ill Reader, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to ??? Warning: Dead Dove – Do Not Eat | Mind the tags TW: Implied Su/Self H, Dubcon, Reader has a super shitty past like actually, Shigaraki Tomura is his own warning.

AO3 Crosspost | Chain Divider by firefly-graphics

Chapters: One • Two • Three • Four • Five • Six • Seven • Eight • Nine

Chapter 8 - Close Call

Time is passing by, leaving you behind.

You know that because you’ve been watching the changing colors seeping through the old glass panels of your dirty windows, dancing against your almost-white walls.

Sometimes, the fog in your cerebrum would lift long enough for you to hear things like motorcycles racing down the empty streets. Or the neighbors arguing with each other, somewhere alongside the building.

You don’t remember when or how, but your head ended up hanging off of your bed and you’re now boring holes into the floor with those empty eyes of yours. Maybe you’re lucky enough to form a blood clot soon, have a stroke and finally get away from this shithole people call life. On better days you’d snort at the thought, but today is not one of those.

Today, you feel empty.

Somewhere deep down, you think you feel hungry too.

When did you eat last?

You’ve been laying on your bed like this for hours, maybe even days, just wasting away, tuning in and out of thinking, occasionally interrupted by the sound of your friend trying to reach you, but you haven’t been reading the past few texts at all.

They have a key to your apartment, but they don’t use it in times like these. You’ve made a deal that as long as you sometimes reply, they won’t try to come and bother you.

You need space. So much space. Space to pretend you don’t exist.

Last time you shut down like this was somewhere last year, after your ex—that ex—found out where you lived and showed up to ‘talk’. Talk with his fist against your face, when you told him, knife in your hand, to fucking dare get any closer.

It was a good thing that Taylor has the sixth sense of a helicopter parent, otherwise you might have cut his throat open. He’d left after, but not before you told him that if he were to show again, you’d expose all the dirt you’ve had on him, even if it meant you’d rot in prison too.

You should have known he’d try to get back at you somehow, probably happily selling the porn to Shigaraki first chance he got.

But that was your fault and your fault only, wasn’t it?

You chose to be with him. You chose to stay with him despite all the things he put you through. You could’ve just left, but you didn’t. There is always a choice, isn’t there? You always have a say in life. You could’ve said no, could’ve walked away from the monsters, could’ve killed yourself at least, but you didn’t.

Your mother, your teachers, hell, even Shigaraki was dead on. You’re nothing but a series of failures, disguising yourself as something else, pretending you’re functional. You ruined everything. You always do.

It’s hard to breathe right now.

You’d sunk yourself to the floor, curling up in a ball and screwing your overflowing eyes shut. You count to ten, you pick different garbage around your room to look at, but you still can’t breathe. The tightness of your throat doesn’t let up, but it’s better to feel suffocated than to hyperventilate until you pass out. So you crawl to the meds next to your bed and overdose on them if only a little bit. Enough to keep you sedated for the rest of the day.

It’s good that Taylor isn’t here to see you like this. They almost put you in the looney bin last year when they called the police and paramedics, thinking your corpse might have been rotting in your apartment.

You got really mad at them, that you remember. The police dude wrote the both of you up for wasting his fucking time with ‘dramatics’, so your friend ended up getting a copy of your apartment key and a promise from you.

It makes you shake your head, thinking back on it.

You’re leaning against the bed frame now, still on the floor, the empty stomach making the meds kick in faster than they should be. It feels nice to feel nothing. You hope you someday get to feel nothing forever. Maybe someday soon.

You envy your friend. They aren’t as fucked up as you are. They don’t need to shut down. All they usually needed was drugs, parties and sloppy hook-ups, none of which would make you feel any better right now. None of which ever made you feel any better.

The back of your head hits the frame and you exhale deeply. It feels like your bones are creaking whenever you move. It’s hard to, but you should count your blessings and keep yourself grounded.

Like how you didn’t get fired from your part-time yet, when you called your manager Gene and told him you didn’t know when you’d be able to come back. He’d told you to not worry about it, to take as many days off as you needed ‘kid’, and you figured it had to do with that glint of sadness he has in his eye, every time he looks at you.

That kind of proves to you that not all people in the world were assholes. There are a few of them that still care about you, even if you could count the amount on your fingers.

Funnily enough, that’s what you do, high as you are right now. You raise your hand in front of your face, and you start literally counting on your fingers.

There’s Taylor—one finger down.

There’s your manager—second finger down.

There was that arcade nerd, the one you should quit worrying over at this point. You didn’t message him again despite telling him you would, and it still fucking bothers you for some reason. But he still counts as a positive, so you put another finger down.

Would he be weirded out if you messaged him now? Maybe you could hit the arcade with him, someone outside your bubble and forget you were you for a second.

You’re staring at the ridges of your fingerprints when you realize you’d spaced out again.

A distant ringtone brings you out of your daze, and you glance at your phone. You’d changed your number. Was that last week? How many days have passed already? Fuck if you remember. You should probably order take-out before you pass out again. Some good, greasy fast food, you think. Yeah, fast food sounded really damn good right now, fuck your savings. Dead people need no savings.

Why the fuck is your phone still ringing? Ring, ring, ring. It’s fucking annoying. Should you answer? You reach for it and look at the display. Another unknown number. Was it another creep? How did they find out? Your head hurts. Should you pick up?

Ah, fuck it. If it really is another creep angling for a hook-up, you might take them up on it. Shigaraki probably posted the rest of the videos on social media by now, maybe even made your address public.

It’s okay, at least that’ll give you the final push to put an end to this miserable party of one.

So you pick up the phone. “Hey,” the last person you wanted to hear from says quietly, swallowing some of the grit in his voice thickly. You frown, but you don’t reply. He clears his throat and tries you again, “I uhh—I… got this number from your friend.”

God, did he fucking threaten them? You should be getting mad, but the meds make you feel nothing.

“It’s been a while since you, uh…” You hear him curse under his breath as he trailed off, “It’s been two weeks. Your friend, uh… Taylor? They told me you’re not feeling well and—”

“What do you want from me?” you snap, hearing your voice sounding rougher than you remembered it to be. Prolonged dehydration, if you had to guess. You’d like to taunt him, to piss him off, but you didn’t have the energy. You couldn’t care less anyways. Nothing fucking matters.

After a moment of hesitation, Shigaraki replies, voice calm and low, “Come back to school.”

You snort, raising your phone to your face and almost end the call if not for the bright screen fucking blinding you for a second.

“I deleted them,” he says, attempting to keep you from hanging up. It works.

“Huh?”

“I removed the thread. After you left. It doesn’t exist anymore. Anywhere. At all.” Shigaraki sighs. “Told your friend first, but they said you haven't read their DMs yet.”

For a brief second, you think about it, realizing you’re supposed to feel what—relief?

You still feel nothing.

“Okay. Why,” you say, not ask.

You don’t understand. He wanted you to suffer, so why would he go through the trouble? You don’t understand, but thinking is really hard for you right now.

“I’ll… tell you when you come to school. Have you eaten yet?”

If you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought you heard concern in his voice. Thank god you know better.

It takes you a while to reply, but he doesn’t press you for some reason. He just waits.

“Why do you care?”

“So no, then. Do you…” Shigaraki trails off, hesitating, “Do you want to grab a bite with me? I’ll—I’ll pay.”

“Shigaraki.”

“Yeah?”

“Why the fuck would I go anywhere with you?”

“Let me take you out once and you’ll find out,” he promises.

A promise you didn’t care for him to fulfill.

“We’re not friends,” you bite, huffing in disbelief. “We’re not even on friendly terms. I screwed you over and you got to ruin my life in return. The end,” you assert, going over the list with him, “How stupid do you think I am? Even if you got rid of the thread, everyone on campus fucking saw everything and at least a few saved it. The damage is—”

“Fucking done, I know, I…”

You roll your eyes, feeling the beginnings of a headache to form, still waiting to hear whatever stupid bullshit excuse he had to say. But he only curses and sighs.

Honestly, you get him. Somewhat.

It’s not hard to figure out how someone ends up being as fucked up as he was, especially not when you come close to it. He’s damaged as hell, masking his insecurities as his confidence, whatever joke of a father he has, letting him come home with big patches of dark bruises and scars.

You’re familiar with it and it makes sense for you, but he shouldn’t be. Rich people are weird, but they’re also cowards. They don’t stand out like he does, they mostly keep to themselves.

Whatever family he has obviously doesn’t care about what he does, not enough to keep the dirt behind closed doors at least. And they should, because Shigaraki is as destructive as it gets. Either he was born a natural psychopath and his dad doesn’t fucking care about him or… he too is an insane piece of shit—

Fuck’s sake. Are you seriously rationalizing his behavior right now? God knows you didn’t go to fucking therapy, only for you to fall back into bad habits. He hurt you. He is the bad guy. What makes him different from your exes and other people that have abused you in the past? Nothing.

You can’t excuse his behavior just because you see some similarities between the two of you. You shouldn’t relate to him just because you’re pretty sure you would’ve ended up like him, but were lucky to know better.

You know all that, but at the same time, haven’t you been through worse than what he's shown you so far? Would it be labeled as self-sabotaging if you tried to see what compelled him to change overnight? To get to know him for real this time?

Ahhh, this headache was really getting to you! Yeah that must be it, because why else would you shit on all the years you spent building your life up and heal, only to destroy it using five little words—ones you’ll probably spend the rest of your life regretting.

“Where… did you want to meet?”

Shigaraki’s ears perk up at that, phone slipping from his hand and crashing onto the floor. You hear muffled curses and a hasty reply, “Fuck, really?! You’ll come?”

It’s like you hit a reset button and he’s more or less back to that awkward gamer dude in your first CS class together. Or maybe you’re hardcore coping while you’re dizzy and numb. Self-sabotaging the way you would’ve if it was any other residual college creep you expected to call for a hook-up earlier.

Yes, that’s it. He’s not special, you’re just really fucked up. Didn’t you always love the calm before the storm and the smell after the rain?

“Keep fucking asking and I might just change my mind. I’m gonna shower first and—oh,” is the last thing he hears before you trip and—thud—face plant. “Fuck,” you say softly, your eyes closing against your will.

Okay, maybe taking too many pills on an empty stomach clearly wasn’t as smart as you thought it would be.

“Hey—okay?—llooo?”

His panicked raspy voice is the last thing you hear before you’re completely out of it.

You fucking hope it was for good this time.

────────

The first sign that you’re still unfortunately very much alive, is that you don’t feel anything like the promised nothingness or the forever inexistence you hoped to achieve after your oh-so-tragic passing. Where the fuck would they bury you, anyways?

Instead, the first sound that your brain is able to register, is a loud pounding in the distance.

Followed by people yelling.

Feeling your mind slowly booting up, you attempt to get up. Instead of succeeding, you slip and fall again several times, groaning audibly at the weakness in your muscles. Around the third attempt of bruising your knees (and not in a good way), you finally get to your feet.

After that, you embark on your miserable trek, clutching your empty, hurting stomach and slowly making your way towards the source of the obnoxious pounding. It feels an awful lot like deja vu.

“Fuck off! This is your fucking fault—” is what you hear, immediately recognizing Taylor’s voice, arguing with…?

“Get off my fucking case! If you would’ve checked up on her, we wouldn’t even be here, you dumb—”

And of course, he’s here too.

“Shut the fuck up, you creep! Don’t get me started, you crazy asshole! Do you even know what she went through, after you—”

“I have fucking neighbors too, you know?”

Both of them stare at you as if you became the eighth wonder of the world overnight, prompting you to raise an eyebrow.

“Well, you look like shit,” Shigaraki breaks the ice first.

You and your friend look at him in disbelief.

“What?” he mumbles, turning his head away, hand habitually reaching to scratch at his scarred neck. “It’s true.”

You roll your eyes at them, watching Taylor gearing up to reply to him, but you open the door for them to come in.

“Whatever. Just don’t talk shit about the mess,” you say, walking first and kicking random things out of your way. “I don’t have a couch, so find something to sit on, or don’t. I don’t really care.”

Immediately after finishing your sentence, you trip on something and see your life flash before your eyes. Shigaraki is quick enough to grab you by your waist, making you stiffen up and shoving him off as soon as your feet feel stabilized enough.

“Do not fucking touch me,” you hiss at him. He huffs, frowning right after.

Normally, you know he wouldn’t let that slide, but he’s definitely been acting weird lately.

It doesn’t matter, because you don’t have willpower nor the energy to unpack his nice guy behavior from the past few interactions with him, no matter how much it gnaws at you.

Instead, you’re distracted by the sounds of Taylor knocking shit over, opening and closing what seems to be every single fucking drawer and cupboard of your two by two kitchen, trying to find something—anything—that was edible enough, presumably for you to eat.

“I’m fine. You really didn’t have to come over. Especially not you.” You glare at him and say it like you weren’t starving to death and ready to be put in a coffin if they hadn’t shown up.

“Like hell you are!” your friend replies sharply, not bothering to spare you a second glance in their quest of finding food.

So your eyes land on him again, noticing his head hanging low and the mop of white hair messily covering his face as he furiously scratches at his neck, almost drawing blood from the sensitive skin. You can’t see his expression and honestly you didn’t really care to. Is he acting this way because of the phone call?

“Yuck, stop that.” You swat his hand away harshly when you notice him breaking skin.

Shigaraki finally meets your eyes and you notice his dark eyebags.

He looks far worse than he normally did, and that alone says something. Usually he’s so confident and full of himself, so much so, that him looking at you the way he does right now—uncertain and perhaps a little lost—looks incredibly out of place.

What is making him so uneasy?

“What?” you spit, but he doesn’t reply.

Instead, he grunts and looks away. The fuck is his problem?

“Okayyy! So!” Taylor makes their way over with a glass of water and hands it to you. “Yooou have absolutely fucking nothing to eat! Incredible news, I know.” They roll their eyes, placing their hands on their hips while you immediately start chugging the glass down. Was plain water always this fucking refreshing?

“Shigaraki. How about you be a big boy and go to the store while I help this bitch clean up? Nothing too heavy on the stomach, ‘cos she hasn’t eaten in a while. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

You don’t know how you missed it but oh. Your friend is mad. Incredibly so. But that would come later, when you’re stable enough to take an honest-to-god beating from them. Right now, what they’re saying is absolutely mortifying to you.

“Wha—Why the fuck would I go?” Shigaraki snarls at Taylor, but is only met with a smug look.

“No because yeah, why the fuck should he?” You glare at him. “Fucking go home already.”

“You shut the fuck up, princess. No one asked you,” Taylor snaps at you and your eyes widen, but before you can say anything, they quickly reply to him, “And sure! I can go! Can you clean around, take her clothes off and help her take a fucking shower? Can’t you see she can barely fucking stand?”

“I’m not a fucking child!” you yell, but both of them ignore you.

Shigaraki’s eyes widen and a bright red flush spreads on his pale features.

Seriously?!

Taylor snorts. “That’s what I thought.”

Both of them are fucking insane. Maybe you really did die and this is your hell.

First of all, is he seriously acting fucking flustered? He’s literally seen god knows how much disgusting footage of you either naked or fucking something. Not only that, but he also decided to post said footage online, for everyone to jerk off to. Is this the same fucking guy who pinned you to the wall in a public hallway, telling you how undeserving of his cock you were because you were a little mean to him?

That train of thought fills you with newfound anger, but before you could really kick him out of your house, Taylor fucking interrupts you again.

“I know I took you with me on a whim,” your friend begins, referring to the only black fucking sheep in the room, “But I really don’t trust leaving you with her while I run around, okay? And honestly, she’s also about to snap at me for showing you where she lives, so you better fuck off now while you can. That’s the least you can do for her after everything.”

Oh.

Oh, right.

“Taylor, seriously? What the fuck were you thinking?!” you can’t help but shout at them. You know your friend was careless, but letting Shigaraki personally stake-out your living environment was definitely pushing it.

“Wait! Wait, wait, wait! I can explain!” were Taylor’s famous last words, as you deliriously started hauling any object or piece of trash you could at them.

Tomura glances at you a final time, before quietly slipping past the both of you and out of the noisy apartment.

Your friend wasn’t lying to you, they really did take him on a whim. Not only that, but they had a whole ass mental breakdown when he texted them back about what happened.

He doesn’t really understand why they let him see you after all that he’s done, figuring they must either be really fucking dumb, or a horrible friend.

Not that he’s about to complain, though. This is a golden opportunity for him to learn what makes you tick and how to break you just enough to build you up again for him.

Without risking you killing yourself in the process.

It’s a point of concern he’d need to consider very carefully in the future, unlike today where he’d almost fucked up, underestimating just how fragile your will to live is.

It’s fine, he tells himself as he’s walking down the stairs of your building. Hell make you fucking want to live. He’s gotten this far and besides, there’s never been an end boss he couldn’t conquer before.

Little did you know, the past few weeks have been rough on him too. Not that you’d ever find out.

Or care.

───────

The bell rang and he was still standing in the hallway, back where you’d left him, looking off in the distance and hoping to materialize you again out of thin air, while students poured out of the classrooms. Was the hallway always this narrow?

Scratch, scratch, scratch.

His neck was unbearably itchy at the thought of you rejecting him again. At the thought of himself messing up. He never messes up. It didn’t make any fucking sense.

He shouldn’t care about you.

You were nothing to him before.

───────

From the moment he saw you in the convenience store, he’d already labeled you as a major pain in the ass.

You must’ve thought you were so fucking cool, talking back to him when you had no clue who he was or what he’s capable of.

Just another one of those irritating clueless fucking NPCs.

Yet irritation turned to amusement, once you managed to fuck up in front of him, fumbling at your pockets in search for what was presumably your cash. Such a fucking mess that you were.

He couldn’t help but giggle at your incompetence. Weren’t you bitching at him only moments ago? It was an incredible turn of events, one that was fitting, for an idiot like yourself. Did you need someone to save you? That’s alright, he could treat you this time. Tomura liked it when people owed him, after all. It allowed him to own them.

And he didn’t want to believe his luck when he immediately spotted you in class, the very next day, sitting in his favorite seat. Really, things couldn’t have been better set up for him. His favorite little bitch, going to the same university he did, sharing classes with him.

He couldn’t have found a more convenient toy to break if he tried.

“Yo, sponger.” Tomura grinned, feeling excitement growing inside of him.

Your brows pinched in surprise and then disbelief, fueling the thrill coursing through his veins. It was funny, he thought, seeing you getting all frustrated like this. By the look on your face, he’d bet a significant amount that you thought the store was the last you’d see of him. And doesn’t that fucking suck for you, to sit next to the guy that humiliated you, not even forty-eight hours ago?

Fuck, he reveled in that expression.

He hasn’t been feeling this giddy in a decent while. Especially not lately, after he’d botched a few important missions that had been assigned to him. It bummed him the fuck out, but he managed to find the perfect outlet to recalibrate his temper. You.

“Why—” you started, and he inhaled softly, watching expectantly as you were visibly losing your mind over the encounter. “How did you even recognize me?”

Your irritated tone sounded so, so sweet to his ears. Not even the professor walking in could’ve held him back from messing with you.

Tomura leaned into you, the subtle smell of your body wash entering his nose as he whispered, making you visibly shudder.

“I’d recognize an ugly fucking skank like you literally anywhere, idiot,” he said, wondering if it was enough to get a rise out of you. He hoped you’d bite back, so he could push, push, push. You were so much fun and he’s just met you!

The jab must’ve done the trick, because you physically recoiled at his words. How far could he take it, he wondered. It’s been a while since he indulged in female attention since, generally speaking, women avoided him like the fucking plague. For reasons he wasn’t oblivious to.

Tomura knew what he looked like, his status and horrible personality doing nothing to help him in that regard, save for a few crazies that got off on his violent nature, and the hookers Master occasionally booked, despite Tomura turning him down every time.

It made perfect sense to him, the way people were afraid. He’d been walking this earth causing as much damage as he could and wishing to decay every living breathing thing that crossed his way, that’s how much he fucking hated everything, everyone. And they too, hated him. Except, they hid it well most of the time, not wanting to become part of his famous track record, to give him a reason to retaliate.

But then—then there was you. You, who openly displayed your disgust, from the first fucking second he’d set his eyes on you. You who didn’t bother to fucking hide it, to cower, to walk on eggshells in order to not upset him or give him a reason to fuck with you. You who wore it on your sleeve, who wasn’t afraid to be found out, but instead made sure he’d heard you.

And boy did he hear you, crystal fucking clear.

In fact, here you fucking were, leaning into him, together with your smug-ass face, about to hit him with what he was sure to be the dumbest counter of the century, reaching your arm around his backrest and doing your fucking best to avoid all contact with him.

He didn’t have time to think of ways to punish you, for treating him like he’s about to infect you with some deadly disease, because—

Because the warmth that radiated from your body—your nose almost touching his—the puff of air coming from your arrogance, landing on his skin—it all unexpectedly sent his brain into overdrive.

People never get close to him. He never lets anybody get close to him.

But you fucking dare to.

His breath hitched, chest filling with anticipation.

You had the nerve to fucking chuckle in his face, before saying the thing you thought would eat at him the most:

“Look dude,” you began and he watched as your smile turned vicious. You’re so close to his face, so close that he could just— “I’d hold up a mirror, so you can take a good fucking look at yourself, but you’d probably have to buy that for me too.”

Then you snorted and Tomura’s eyes widened, brows knitting together. He turns away, one hand habitually reaching his neck to scratch that newly formed itch.

He’d—He’d felt his chest tighten! Fuck! That was unexpected. You were so fucking cute.

It takes him a fucking second to compose himself, since your bratty little comeback comment went straight to his cock. He’d need to adjust himself in just a second, head filling with ideas on how to deal with that and soon.

That means, if I play this right—

Tomura’s hand dropped from his neck, and he finally turned to you with a completely new gameplan in his mind.

“If you don’t kill the stupid goblin at the beginning of the stage, the final boss won’t carry your S-Grade,” he casually stated, pointing at your screen with his finger, doing air-circles around a section of the minimap on your screen.

“Huh?”

He frowned. Were you fucking slow?

He opted not to ask, giving you a pass because you are playing one of the best MMOs today—good pick by the way—and by extension making it fairly easy for him to find common ground with the one cocksleeve he actually wanted to fuck.

That thought surprised him too, but he couldn’t dwell on it much because he had to hurry and quickly get on your good side. Do all that before you found out who he really was and all the half-truths reach your ears, completely fucking obliterating his chances with someone he’s actually into for once.

You were looking at him all stupid and confused now. Tomura found it extremely endearing to witness.

“Tch. Your run, dumbass. You’ve prolly been grinding for hours, only getting it once or twice because you never think to kill the stupid goblin and only ever do it by accident.” He shrugged. “No one ever fuckin’ does, so they don’t find the pattern without looking up a guide.”

He fully expected you to tell him to fuck off—maybe even hoped it would happen—but instead you were surprisingly obedient, listening to his advice. The challenge you were facing had completely overwritten the fact that you didn’t even want him breathing the same air as you, merely seconds ago. Interesting.

So while you were busy trying out the suggested strategy, Tomura took his time to really observe you. He leaned in closer, testing the proximity limits, but either you had really shit self-preservation skills or you didn’t care, because he couldn’t believe how oblivious you suddenly became towards his presence.

Why act like you dislike him that much, then let him get this close to you? So close that he could easily inhale the nice scent of your shampoo and run his fingers through your hair. Grip it hard and make your pretty head bob up and down his—

“Ugh!” you groaned out loud, slamming your fist against your desk and making him stop in his tracks. Students sitting in the row before you glanced back, but you were too absorbed in the game to care.

Close. Too close.

His hand was hanging in the air, just behind your head and almost making contact with you. He quickly retracted it, going back to just observing you. One dirty look from him and the students flinched, opting to turn around before he got angry.

But Tomura was far from angry.

Instead, he was struggling really hard to keep himself from spiraling down the rabbit hole of things he wanted to do to you.

Dirty, downright fucking depraved shit that he’d only ever seen generic male protagonists in eroges do, after picking all the right dialogue options to get to the part where he stuffs his female interest full of his cock.

Depraved shit he’d admittedly never thought he’d ever want past the walls of his bedroom, where he’d occasionally spend his nights watching just enough unhinged pornography to calm himself down, hours after some stuck-up bitch walked by him with the tightest fucking skirt known to man.

It was new, this feeling of desire.

Not desire for violence and torture. Not desire to gain more strength or power.

The desire to have you.

The seed had been planted somewhere along the way of meeting you for the first time and now that the roots run deep, he was starting to want to rise up to the challenge and get the nasty bitch sitting next to him to submit to him.

How many silly pretend dates would it take you to let him drag you into his room?

Tomura’s eyes landed on your neck.

What would you sound like if he marked you—if he covered your body in so many bruises and hickeys, the whole damn world would know you were his? What was your favorite co-op game? Would you sit in his lap while the two of you would play together? Would he be able to get you to cockwarm him while you were playing? What was your favorite take-out dinner? Your movie? Did you also have a plethora of unpopular takes he could debate you on? Are you a virgin? Do you play other genres aside from MMOs? Could he get you to wear his hoodies too, maybe touch yourself, sweat a little and give them back to him? Let him fuck you stupid against his bed while wearing them? Would you take him like the obedient girl he knows you’ll learn to be?

He wasn’t stupid. He knew he’d have to tame you somehow, but you’d understand, wouldn’t you? You would become his favorite little plaything.

Tomura couldn’t stop—couldn’t stop his thoughts from spiraling out of control as his need to have you grew exponentially by the second, especially when his cock became so fucking hard, it was straining against the fabric of his jeans and beginning to hurt.

If only he could skip the introductory phase and get to the fucking cutscene.

Fuck, he had to stop himself before he bent you over your desk and pounded your pussy for the whole lecture hall to see. So he took a mental step back and resolved to watch over your gameplay, impatient fingers twitching as he did.

And it wasn’t the degenerate thoughts he was harboring in his mind that shocked him, no. What really shocked him was the fact that… he kind of really enjoyed watching you play.

You weren’t as good as he was (he doubted you’d ever be), but you were decent. Better than Spinner, at least. The gear that your character was wearing was made up of only legendary sets, ones he’d even use himself—if only with a few modifications. That’s the kind of gear that you had to grind a long time for and be lucky for it to drop from bosses that only spawn once a month.

He briefly scratched at his neck and by the time you’d finished your second run, a really good idea formed inside his head.

“Told you so,” Tomura said. It made you scoff and roll your eyes, which in turn made him frown.

It’s alright, he thought. You needed time. People often got annoyed with him when he was right. You’ll come around and even if you didn’t, you’d still be really fun to debate with, he could already tell.��

You looked so fuckable while pouting too. It made him want to see you cry.

“No need to get salty. Took me like a week to figure it out by myself and it drove me fucking insane too,” he mentioned, thinking back fondly to all the controllers he managed to break. Kurogiri advised him to stop creating unsightly holes in the walls of his room, but Tomura threatened to use his head next if he didn’t shut his fucking mouth. Good times. “And I’m pretty good at these types of tells in games y’know? But the design of this one made no fucking sense. What’s your IGN? I can add you and we can raid together.”

He drummed his fingers against your side of the desk, arm placed firmly against the surface as he waited for your reply. He didn’t catch on to the fact that it was him that pissed you off. Not the game itself.

His plan was flawless. Partaking in one of his favorite hobbies and getting to know you better into you becoming the ultimate fucktoy pipeline, would be the absolute peak. He’d take it slow, for sure, eventually sweeping you off your feet, impressed by his abilities, knocking your pride down a peg or two. You’d fucking learn to like him too, he resolved.

He wasn’t all that bad if you left out… a lot of things.

“Sorry?”

You fucking looked at him as if he grew another head and Tomura saw his vision of your future together beginning to crack.

What’s wrong?

He felt his body starting to itch again. Why the fuck were you looking at him like that? You were supposed to want to get to know him too, weren’t you?

But the bell rang before he managed to say anything to you, too stunned to move a muscle, and you scurried off, his red eyes never leaving your figure until you were well out of his sight.

He was wrong about you. How? How could he be wrong?

He’s never fucking wrong!

But he was. You were exactly like the rest of them.

Stupid bitch.

It was fine. He’d find a way to teach you a lesson.

And soon.

───────

The store’s lights changed, compared to the first night he’d met you.

Instead of the brightness that blinded him, there’s now a soft fluorescent glow, doing its best to light the small establishment up. The air here still smells like a blend of dirty mop water and tobacco smoke, all mixing into a disgusting but familiar musty scent.

Behind the counter isn’t the usual cashier, but an old lady who’s smoking inside the establishment. Tomura scoffs, figuring it must’ve been the owner, unable to otherwise explain the audacity.

He finds himself fidgeting while looking around the aisles with various food objects. Would instant noodles count as ‘not too heavy on your stomach’? He doesn’t know. After all, Tomura doesn’t often find himself having to care for anyone before. He always has Kurogiri to do that for him.

Shaking his head and scrunching his nose, Tomura keeps searching. It takes him about two minutes of googling whatever the fuck to even look for, and another three of pacing around the aisles, eyes lighting up the moment he finally spots the canned article in question.

It was one of your favorite comfort foods, not that he knew at the time.

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x y/n #emotional hurt/comfort #shigaraki tomura #unhealthy relationships #dead dove do not eat #trigger warnings #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki fanfiction #shigaraki x you #tenko shimura #tomura shigaraki #college au #reader is female

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christophe76460 · 3 years ago

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📜 *COUPER AVEC SON PASSÉ* 📜

*_PRÉAMBULE_*

Après avoir accepté Jésus Christ✅ comme Seigneur et Sauveur, il nous arrive constamment de donner notre témoignage au corps de Christ pour le fortifier, surtout les nouveaux mais aussi de le donner aux non croyant, que nous soyons en évangélisation ou non. Ce témoignage consiste à présenter notre vie avant le Seigneur, mais aussi notre vie en Christ. Entre ses deux vies, ceux qui reçoivent notre témoignage désirent connaître comment nous avons pu changer et comment nous avons classé certains domaines de notre passé. En clair comment avons nous coupé concrètement avec notre passé ❓ Comment avons nous classé les situations incompatible à notre foi après notre salut❓

0- *_INTRODUCTION_*

Comment devons nous traiter notre passé après la repentance et le baptême ❓ La Bible n'en parle pas assez car l'amour de Dieu nous oriente vers➡️ la vie Éternelle, vers ➡️le dépouillement donc vers ➡️ le futur et non vers le passé❎. Voilà pourquoi la parole nous dit que les choses anciennes sont passées. Les anciennes choses dès lors que nous nous sommes sincèrement repentis n'intéressent plus le Seigneur Jésus Christ. Elles appartiennent au passé🚮. Il voit plutôt la nouvelle créature qu'il fait de nous. Pour le Seigneur quelles choses sont devenues nouvelles ❓ Toutes choses. Gloire à Dieu,🙇 le Seigneur veut rendre toutes choses nouvelles dans nos vies. AMEN !🙇 📖 *2CORINTHIENS 5V17* 📖

Cependant il y'a des choses de notre passé que nous devons traîter✏️ nous-même, à l'exemple de Zachée, des chrétiens d'Éphèse etc...

*I- LE REMBOURSEMENT DES DETTES*

Lors de notre repentance, nous nous rappelons généralement de ceux à qui nous devons de l'argent💰. Parfois ces dettes perdurent à cause de notre négligence, de l'oublie🤔, du fait que cette personne aussi nous était redevable d'un service ou d'un mauvais traitement😡. Quelqu'en soit les cas, nous avons les raisons, valables ou non, justifiant le non remboursement de ces dettes. Après avoir accepté le Seigneur Jésus Christ✅, nous sommes tenus de rembourser toutes nos dettes quelqu'en soit leur nature, leur durée ou leur objet. Un enfant de Dieu ne doit être redevable à personne❎. Le remboursement des dettes est un acte de bonne conscience envers le Seigneur et envers le créancier. Cela doit venir du coeur💖 du croyant. Le Seigneur n'a t-il pas félicité👏 Zachée après que celui-ci décida de lui-même de rembourser ses dettes ❓ 📖 *LUC 19V6-9* 📖

Quelques remarques sur un enfant de Dieu endetté.

- La dette est une source de murmure à votre égard V7. Aussi longtemps que vous serez endetté, votre créancier aura de bonnes raisons de murmurer à votre égard surtout lorsque le délai de remboursement n'a pas été honoré😞. Lorsque vous êtes un sujet de murmure avec justificatif, votre témoignage prend un coup négatif et empêche le règne de Dieu de passer par vous.

- La dette non rembourser dans les délais vous fait passer pour un malhonnête. Aussi vrai que le délai soit passé, même avec votre plus grand désir de rembourser, votre créancier peut s'avérer être une personne de mauvaise foi et vous traiter de malhonnête. Aussi, après le délai, il vous incombe de demander un prolongement du délai de remboursement, d'aucun cas vous serez vraiment malhonnête. Que Dieu nous en préserve!

- La mauvaise dette appauvri. PROVERBES 22V26-27 nous conseille de ne pas faire partir de ceux qui s'endettent au risque de nous voir être dépouillé par le créancier de nos biens, de notre honneur, dignité et même de notre liberté car la dette a conduit beaucoup en prison⛓️. 📖 *MATTHIEU 18V 29-30*

- le Seigneur n'a parlé du salut à Zachée qu'après le remboursement de ses dettes. Avant cela, les gens murmuraient contre Zachée avec raison et le Seigneur était auprès de Zachée. Cependant le Seigneur n'a pas réglé les dettes de Zachée, il n'a même pas mentionné le sujet. Cela a été l'œuvre de la conscience personnelle de Zachée, après quoi le salut est entré dans sa maison.

Le sujet des dettes est une affaire très sérieuse pour le salut d'un enfant de Dieu. Il ne s'agit pas seulement des dettes financière mais également des choses obtenues malhonnêtement, des choses volées ou escroqués... Et de tout ce qui dilue notre témoignage.

Tout cela doit être résolu, remboursé ou restitué enfin que notre témoignage soit vrai et porte des fruits. Amen !

*II- SE SÉPARER DE TOUT OBJET INCONVENANT*

Beaucoup de nos prières🙇 ne sont pas exaucées, et beaucoup d'entre nous ne recevons plus les révélations du Seigneur à cause des objets inconvenant que nous avons dans nos maisons et/ou sur nous. Aussi vrai que la lumière et les ténèbres ne se mélangent pas❎, aussi longtemps certaines choses empêcheront Dieu d'agir dans nos vies😞. Avons nous exercé la magie🔮❓ alors nos livres magiques doivent être brûlés. Avons nous connu la pornographie🔞, la masturbation et tout autre péché semblable ❓Alors nous devons brûler nos livres pornographique, nos manuels de kamasutra, nos CD et vidéos semblable... Tout objet inconvenant doit être ôté au milieu de nous✅. D'autres doivent être brûlés, à l'exemple des statuettes, des images de représentation de Dieu, tout produit dénaturalisant, les vêtements de marque douteux, les livres d'hérésie, les amulettes, les objets de protection obtenu chez les féticheurs, charlatans, marabout et autres, les jeux de hasard🃏 etc... La liste est longue. Ces objets qui ne peuvent pas être données seront détruits.✅

D'autres moins nuisibles peuvent être transformés et utilisés autrement, à l'exemple des vêtements👔👗 qui peuvent être rallongés. Quelques uns peuvent être distribués à condition de ne pas être une source de péché pour le receveur❎.

Plusieurs chrétiens d'Éphèse ont fait brûler leurs livres magiques. 📖 *ACTES 19V18-19 La confession seule ne suffit pas❎. Il faut également se dépouiller de tout ce qui est inconvenant✅ et ainsi couper les liens avec le passé.

III- *JE N'AI PAS LES MOYENS*

Admettons que nous avons reçu le Seigneur et nous sommes endetté ou avons volé la télé du voisin il y'a 4 ans. Cependant nous n'avons pas les moyens de les rembourser🤔. Il convient premièrement de rencontrer nos créanciers et de les donner notre témoignage. Celui-ci se fera en fonction de notre intimité avec ce prochain. C'est dans notre témoignage que nous allons lui en parler en lui demandant pardon🙇 et en lui signifiant notre incapacité de lui restituer son dû mais que nous sommes prêt à restituer progressivement au cas où il nous refuse son pardon. En fonction de l'état de son coeur, nous pourrons être libéré de ce fardeau ou planifier un programme de restitution. Notons cependant qu'il nous faudra prier🙇 à ce sujet avec sincérité bien avant de l'aborder, afin que nous obtenons sa miséricorde. 📖 MATTHIEU 18V27

Au cas où nous avons perdu contact avec la personne ou qu'elle ne soit plus de ce monde, après avoir donné notre témoignage à un membre de sa famille, nous lui ferons la restitution à la place du défunt ou de la personne disparu.

📖 *CONCLUSION*

Confesser nos péchés est un élément de base✅. Cependant confesser sans couper les liens en se dépouillant est incomplet et insuffisant❎. Cela rend notre témoignage sans force.😞

Nous devons restituer tout ce que nous avons mal acquis, nous séparer de tout objet inconvenant✅. La lumière ne se mélange pas avec les ténèbres et le Seigneur veut que toutes choses deviennent nouvelles. Tout comme Zachée, nous devons régler la question de nos dettes acquis avant notre conversion et éviter que maximum d'en acquérir après notre conversion, au moins bien sûr d'une extrême urgence. À l'exemple des chrétiens d'Éphèse, nous devons nous séparer de tout objet inconvenant, sans regarder le coût, ni nous inquiéter de ce qu'il adviendra car le juste vivra par la foi. Que Dieu vous fasse entrer dans sa totale intimité après avoir coupé avec passé ! Amen !

*AVEC JÉSUS ON PEUT RECOMMENCER ET FAIRE MIEUX*

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