#yandere shigaraki tomura x reader

[mamayan]

★Mind Break☆

Cult Leader! Tenko Shigaraki x AFAB! Reader

You should’ve known better than to run from the devil.

WARNING: This work contains depictions of psychological, physical, and emotional torture. Cult ideologies/problematic religious themes will be present throughout this writing, and will include nonconsensual and dubiously consensual sexual content. Abuse, violence, murder, sadism, and blood used even in a sexual context will be present. This story is not a romance, and depicts unhealthy obsessions and mental illness caused by psychological breaks. I am not going to tag this work further. By reading this work, you are agreeing that you understand it will include morally conflicting content and sexually explicit material which can be considered extreme. Read at your own risk, and enjoy. ♡

It wasn’t always like this.

You shift, abhorring your inability to function properly anymore, trying to make your body comfortable despite the freezing temperature having numbed your muscles into lead.

The metal bed chained and hanging off the damp stone walls seemed to inject ice into the very marrow of your bones. Was there even a point to it?

You distractedly listen to the soft scurry and skitter of mice. That was the point of it.

Everything hurt.

Your eyes burned with unshed tears, face blotchy and swollen from the last round you’d given into.

It wasn’t like this before.

Sure, you’d occasionally slip up, and you’d get a swift smack on your ass for causing trouble. Where was that treatment now? It changed when he stepped up. When Father Shigaraki passed the torch to him, your life became a walking nightmare.

Your chest constricted, eyes shutting despite no light illuminating your surroundings as memories flooded. The throbbing in your skull becoming a fist pounding to get out.

When you’d finally gotten old enough, you’d left the compound. Ran away from everything you’d ever known and loved. Your instincts had screamed at you to get away. Tenko had become a man you could not withstand, because despite his treatment towards you, everyone loved him. They had hailed him as the next great leader and prophet, saying that he’d bring them to greatness and no one would’ve believed you. He was hope in the dark world for your community, and that was the sign which showed you that the only way to survive was to distance yourself as far as possible.

You stayed hidden for nearly five years… you truly thought for a moment you were free. You thought he’d forgotten. That your past would let bygones be bygones.

You were sorely mistaken.

You clenched your teeth as the loud sirens began, the noise so sharp and painful it made your head nearly break.

You could only weakly curl up, mind so foggy and disoriented you didn’t hear anything but a constant buzzing tone in your ears as the siren waned into silence again. You don’t know how long it’s been since you’ve slept. Food was brought but it was merely pushed through a hole at the bottom of your metal door. You got two meals a day, bread and a watery vegetable soup.

The sharp pounding on the door cuts through the tinnitus and has you scrambling off the bed, muscles screaming in protest as your skin splits under the jagged earth you’d thrown yourself onto. Tattered clothing not helping the painful friction as you dig your bare feet into the stone and pushed yourself against a wall.

You weren’t fully cognizant, but as the heavy lock turned, you whined as warm light crawled into your space, nearly blinding you despite the dullness.

“Poor thing…,” his voice was raspier than you remember, more gravely in depth as he chuckles, looking down at your pathetic form curled and shaking.

“How’re you doing my little lamb?” His humor isn’t disguised in the least, his glee at seeing you vulnerable and weak for him obvious as he grins.

He tracks your bloody hands weakly hugging yourself, your bottom lip trembling as you look up under your lashes with those teary eyes he adores so much.

Your small pink tongue dips out to lick your lips, his dark garnet eyes watching intently.

“M-m’cold…” your voice is tiny, hardly audible.

His boots thump loudly as he walks towards you, ignoring how you clearly tense up and attempt to mold yourself into the wall to get away from him. When he’s close enough to nearly touch your bare feet with his boots, he crouches down, resting his forearms on dark denim as he tilts his head with a soft expression.

“Tell me lamb, was it fun out there?” The light against his back blanketed his pale skin in warmth, “Did you have fun in the big wide world, running around, dirtying yourself like some common whore?” You flinch as his tone grows in severity. Blurry vision looking at a familiar yet not face.

He has a scar on his lip, one which hadn’t been there before, crossing straight down.

He was still a beautiful man, the scar even seeming to add a masculine charm to his otherwise somewhat pretty visage. Soft purple rings clung beneath his eyes though, making him look softer somehow. He looked like he’d slept about as much as you.

You stared too long.

You can’t react when his hand shoots out and curls around your neck, fingers and rings digging painfully into your flesh as he cuts off your oxygen cruelly. Your fingers grasp at his wrist and hand, futile in their attempt to pry his death grip off your throat as you slowly suffocate. The pinch and pull of the jewelry he wore was breaking the delicate skin and making it more slippery as blood flowed.

He’s rambling, but it sounds like you’re underwater and he’s above the surface, as if he’s speaking another language.

Tears pool down your cheeks, rivers running freely like your blood as your face begins to take on a sickly dark hue, veins bulging in your face and eyes popping wide from their sockets. A few blood vessels bursting in your left eye.

Just as your vision goes dark, he lets you go.

Your coughing fit which followed nothing glamorous or cute, sputtering and hacking as bile rose but nothing came out. Your throat burned like someone forced you to drink gasoline and swallow a lit match, dropping over to your side by his feet and clutching where he’d left bloody indents.

“Pfft, you haven’t changed at all… I’m glad honestly.”

His boot connects with your side, merciful in the amount of strength exerted but still painful in your weakened state. You sputtered, nearly choking again on your saliva as you tremble and struggle to draw in air.

“No one is going to save you lamb, no one even wants to. When you ran away, you died to everyone here, everyone but me,” you can smell the leather of his shoe as he lifts it and brings it to your head, pushing down until you literally croak. “You should be grateful I’m showing so much grace to you lamb, the others suggested I do much, much worse to rehabilitate you.” His voice is snide while your heart wars with his words. He’s lying, he had to be.

You could only cry though. Sniffling beneath his boot as he lifted it off you, eager to look at your face.

His smile is vile, you note as your tired eyes flick up. He looked nothing like the messenger angel Father Shigaraki had dubbed him before his passing. As your tears blurred his pretty image… he looked like a demon from hell. A beautiful monster.

You weren’t sure what he even wanted from you, what it was he truly craved, but you wanted the pain to end.

Your palms scraped against the damp gravely floor below, finding a somewhat good position to lean your weight on and push your body up, even as your blood created an imbalance due to the slickness. Tenko let you, watching as your head hung in defeat lowered even further, chin tucked to your chest as your knees slid up. When you got to a semi-kneeling position, one hand steadying you on the ground, the other… the other reaching out and gripping his pant leg.

Those red eyes widened a fraction, watching intently as you look up at him from your spot on the floor.

His heart rate increased, pounding in his chest as he drank you in, lips twitching as his teeth ached. He didn’t stop you from using him as an anchor and rising up enough to sink your other hand into his pants too.

You looked like a dog begging for a treat, and his cock throbbed in agreement.

You remembered the degrading title he used to force you to call him when you were younger.

“M-Master…” it was almost inaudible, your sweet lips struggling to even form words after the abuse he leveled your throat.

“Master please…” even as your tears continued to fall, face ruined and messy, he laughed. Deep and boisterous, he nearly doubled over as he bared his white teeth.

“Fuck haha! You—!, okay, alright, what do you want little lamb, hm?” Once he calmed down enough, adrenaline high as he stares down at you with a renewed sense of vigor, he spoke.

He leaned down a bit, cupping your jaw and smiling deeper when you cringe and flinch, but still don’t pull away.

“Go ahead, you got my attention now.” He says it almost benevolently, but his eyes were impatient.

It hurt to swallow, your mouth having gone dry as you parted your lips.

“I want to be forgiven… I’m sorry…”

He lifted one sparse brow up. “Yeah? You’re sorry?” You nod, jerky and short as your neck flames up in pain.

He straights, tapping a finger against his lip in a gesture of consideration.

“Okay little lamb,” he snickers, “I’m willing to forgive you and let you leave here, but you need to be cleaned first.” You perk up, eyes finding a hint of light as the prospect of relief is dangled in front of you.

“Yes, anything please,” you gasp, desperation bleeding into your voice.

That’s why it takes you by surprise when his hands drop and begin to calmly undo his leather belt. Fingers steady and sure as you blankly watch him unbutton his jeans, and shimmy them down enough for his fat leaking cock to spring free.

“Well then, we can start by cleaning this filthy mouth first.” His eyes are closed as he grins, pearly canines on display and distorted features resembling something inhuman.

“T-Tenko…?” His hand not holding his cock swiftly sinks into your hair, easily dragging your face closer so he can slap the hard rod against your soft cheek a few times, the smell of him warm and bitter, contrasted by the damp cool air around you. “That’s not what you call me, is it lamb?” He doesn’t sound angry, but when you look back up, he’s dropped his cock and raised his hand.

The blow is more sharp than it is brute force, your head held in place by his other hand to avoid you collapsing and hitting your head on the floor.

Your cry echoes weakly. Face inflamed as your jerked right back to his groin where he smashes your injured cheek against his dick, rubbing it in as he groans.

“You need to be retaught manners too it seems, but we’ll just stick with a simple cleaning today.”

He’s speaking as if discussing a mundane topic like the weather, scolding you like one might scold a child in school. His tip rubbing and spreading pre-cum and tears across your face as you calm down from the pain he assaulted you with.

“Open your mouth.” He’s not asking but you obey and part your lips.

He holds a lot of your weight up by your hair, watching in fascination as his swollen mushroom tip rests against your bottom lip. His engorged meat rod looks insidious against your face pretty, thick veins protruding from the angry red of the skin, long and thick but tapering towards the tip a little where it curves up. He lets his hips tip, the tip entering your warm wet cavern, lips opening wider as he sinks about a quarter inside.

Your face scrunches, likely due to the sensation and taste of him, little tongue moving languidly against the underside of his shaft. He curses, bucking his hips a little more and arm exerting force when you attempt to pull back.

You whine around him, hands trying to push his hips back but too weak to prevent him from sliding out and doing it again.

“That’s it lamb, I’m just cleaning your mouth, relax~” he chuckles, Tenko’s grip in your hair tightening painfully as he begins testing your limits with depth and speed.

“I wouldn’t have to do this if, fuck, you just stayed home where you belong like a good girl,” he moans, your teeth accidentally grazing his cock but it seems to spur him on rather than flinch in pain.

“Shit, that’s it, go ahead and bite if you feel like dealing with a concussion, I’ll break your skull on this floor happily.” He’s sneering down at you, loving the fear which enters your gaze as you now struggle to open wider and avoid such a fate. It only helps him work his cock deeper, into your throat where you almost scream due to the blinding pain.

His earlier damage still too fresh as he loses it moaning, your slobber and blood now coating his cock and bringing delicious friction as he lets his tip tease your raw throat. His balls tap against the under side of your chin, his white pubic hair nearly tickling inside your nose as he tries to fit all of himself inside your mouth.

The noises you made would make any normal person stop. The painful howls muffled by his cock and stuffed back down your throat, his speed increasing as his balls drew tight.

“Have to keep you clean inside and out lamb, so you’re going to take every drop—,” his teeth are grit, grinding together as his orgasm washes over him, hot ropes of cum gagging and suffocating you again as he lets his cock rest inside your throat while he finishes. You don’t feel the cum, only him twitch as he empties his load into your belly.

Your eyes stare blankly at nothing. Dark spots dotting your vision even when he pulls out and pushes you off him.

You land on your side, wheezing and clutching your throat again as you blink away the darkness threatening to consume you, your adrenaline keeping you awake as Tenko crouches down beside you again.

He’d redressed, looking unfazed with a healthy pink hue to his cheeks now.

“C-can I leave now…?” Your voice doesn’t even sound like your own now. Each syllable grating on your damaged flesh.

“Why the fuck would I let you leave?” His words nearly stop your heart. Icy dread replacing the burning.

“Y-you said…” your eyes leaked, face showing your absolute shock and disbelief.

He laughed, standing up again, shoving his hands in his pockets as he smiled down at you.

“I lied.”

His lips tug higher as he leaves, locking you away again even as your wail echoes woefully throughout his hideout.

Invisible needles stabbed up your knees, waking you up more than the blaring white light.

You wanted out, away from this migraine inducing brightness, but all you could do was pray.

As a child, you’d preferred to sleep or pass notes around rather than be immersed in devotional. You wished you paid more attention, because only God could save you from this hell.

You flinched, startling yourself as shadows stretched and danced around the walls, despite the fluorescents preventing such things from being cast.

Your arms wrap around yourself, kneeling and hunched over as the visions continued even when you closed your eyes. Faceless dark creatures trying to pry into your mind as you scream, the noise bouncing back and slamming into your sensitive eardrums, breaking you from the moment.

They were gone, your weary eyes tracked, licking your dry chapped lips and imagining how nice it would be to have some sort of lip balm or lotion.

Your head bowed again, lips running through carefully memorized prayers as events from your past unfurl like a blooming rose. Each petal a fractured piece you try to suppress and fail, the voice of your therapist so distant now since you’ve been home.

Deep breathes led to panic attacks and unconsciousness, the faces of family and friends skewed into wicked distortions you struggled to differentiate between dream and reality.

Tenko remained vivid in your memories though. You grimaced, as it was likely due to the pain he inflicted in your youth, which seared into your subconscious as a warning for any future interactions. Humans rarely touch a hot stove twice.

You shake and tremble as time drags on, murmuring scripture from memory as best you can to ask for grace, pleading for your safe release.

Tiny patters catch your attention, eyes blinking open and staring at a small mouse. Soft tuffs of light brown fur, the little creature might’ve invoked disgust and fear before your capture, but now only bland curiosity filled you.

It scurried around for a while, sniffing at the metal tray left by a thin hole on the bottom of the door, looking for crumbs it would not find.

It was… abhorrently cute.

You returned to prayer, until your evening meal arrived and was silently exchanged, your eyes catching not even a glimpse of skin.

You shuffled awkwardly before the tray, decorum gone as you eat with need for survival instead of enjoyment, eyes steely and swirling almost violently as a tiny squeak draws your attention down.

The mouse. Tiny pinpoint dark eyes and a little pink twitching nose face you.

You should kill it. It likely had diseases or something else, it’s better of dead but…

Something inside prevents you, and instead you drop a few crumbs of bread.

It was all you could spare. The little creature isn’t wasteful though, eating with gusto unlike you as you watch in mild amusement.

“If you like the food so much, we should switch places,” you whisper jokingly, the mouse ignoring you in favor of licking and sniffing out even the most minuscule piece of food left.

You finish your meal too, however unsatisfying and unfulfilling.

Your eyes close shut even though the light disallows you any proper rest, mind shutting off like a device to power down.

Your hazy brain reboots at the sound of footsteps some time later, obnoxious compared to the ones belonging to the one in charge of food delivery.

Tenko, your brain unhelpfully supplies. You don’t want to see him. You want nothing to do with him or this compound anymore, but your body was beginning to associate him with more than just pain.

He was warm, physically speaking at least, and the skin on skin contact left you reeling with comfort you didn’t want to receive from him. He’s a lunatic and a psychopath, and you loathe him like none other, but the terror of him is equal to the hatred.

Your new friend abandons you as the locks turn, your eyes trailing up from the ground to watch as the door slowly swings open, revealing the man who haunts even your dreams.

“Hello little lamb, did you miss me?”

Each wobbly step felt like treading over broken glass.

You could hardly stand, legs truly unused to the feeling as you’d given up your mad pacing in favor of protecting the damaged soles of your feet.

Not anymore though, as the hand tangled in your locks jerked you onward, using your hair almost like a lead as you stare at the filthy floor you traverse on, destination left an anxiety filled mystery.

“Come on little lamb~ we’re nearly there,” his soft cooing voice makes your insides revolt, twisting and causing you to stumble.

At least he’s there to make sure your face doesn’t hit the hard surface of the ground, oddly powerful in his lean physique as he simply holds up your weight and pulls you along side him.

He’s merry and cheerful, whistling occasionally as he strolls as if through a friendly neighborhood park and not some type of underground dungeon only found in medieval theatrics.

Your eyes trail back at the light smattering of your blood on the floor, wearily looking as far ahead as you could in this half crouched position.

It was dimmer out here than your cell. The blaring alarms replaced by white hot light that seared your mind awake and deprived you of sleep further.

Out here the shadows danced. Your eyes fearfully taking in the monsters beginning to crawl off the walls and towards you, just out of reach though, as if Tenko was holding them back.

That scared you even more.

A new room came up just at the end of the hall, a shorter distance than you’d felt it was.

He hauled you forward and threw you inside before dim lights illuminated the space from an antique switch on the wall.

There was only a chandelier in here, you noted before the breath left your lungs on impact with the ground, side blaring up in pain as you lay still.

Your eyes widen, pupils dilating as strange staticky figures moved about the space, the room swirling like a whirlpool of colors before you were yanked up and out of the fever dream.

Tenko was humming some sort of hymn, his deep timber almost soothing despite his violent manner of dragging you towards a small in-ground pool.

A baptism pool, with steps leading into the shallow water with a metal railing for assistance, likely for the elderly.

Your vision seemed to jump back and forth between the water being a dark blue and bloody red, unintentionally jerking in Tenko’s hold.

He seems to misinterpret it, “It’s okay lamb, I’ll be baptizing you tonight, washing the sins of the outside world which tainted you away.” You want to bark at his delusional little speech, to roll your eyes or do something, but you’re silent like a doll in his hold. Weak. Pathetic. Worthless. Powerless.

He lets you drop, in favor of scooping you up bridal style in his arms, your filthy sorry figure truly in need of a bath you’ve been denied thus far.

He’s not the least bit repulsed, seeming even thrilled to hold you close as he smiles his pearly white canines at you.

“Look at you, being so good for me. I almost want to reward you,” he chuckles, face calm and even as he takes you both fully clothed into the shockingly cold water.

He doesn’t even flinch.

You’re unable to do much else but gasp, curling into Tenko’s warm chest as chills immediately wrack your body.

Once he’s about waist deep, he extends his arms and lets your feet sink down, one hand spread between your shoulder blades and keeping you up.

Those red hued eyes truly seemed to manifest evil, the dim lighting not dampening the color’s vibrance. He looks like a malevolent angel.

“Are you ready? You’ll need to hold your breath for just a little while I recite the passage.”

Something inside is trying to worm itself out past your lips, begging you to speak up, move away, not trust him.

You can’t seem to remember exactly why as you nod numbly.

Until his free hand raises up, pressed against your chest just under your collarbone and caging your upper body between his hands.

His smile is almost serene.

Then you’re submerged, just barely enough time to hold your breath while the chilling liquid around you wakes you.

Your eyes blink open despite the chlorine burning them, seeing him through a strange mirage now, lips moving and canted up.

Your chest starts to hurt after ten seconds. Then it’s a somewhat urgent need after twenty.

At thirty your instincts take hold and you struggle, air being pushed out meanly by his hand as he applies pressure to still you.

It’s impossible though, you need to breathe. You need it with urgency as your feet kick out, arms coming up to fight and remove his grip, but he just keeps you under. The adrenaline wins though, finally pushing him roughly so you can come up for greedy gulps of air, choking and sputtering while the rooms spins and nausea grips you.

“You didn’t even last a minute lamb,” he remarks offhandedly, and your near drowning reminds you why he is to be feared like death itself because his next move is to grip your throat, the other tangling back in your hair while he smiles down at you, face cinching unnaturally tight as he leans over your panting trembling figure.

“How about this? If you can last a minute, we’ll stop.”

Liar, your heart and mind roar with passion, but your survival instincts demand you do so because it meant life or death.

He doesn’t prepare you this time, sinking you under while his laugh filters through the water into a muddled tune as you fail to even last thirty seconds this time, clawing and biting like a wounded animal as your vision begins to go dark and lungs threaten to shut down.

He yanks you back up, just enough time to gather in air before you’re plunged again, vision beginning to fade as those horrid shadow creatures emerge, almost playfully as you dance around suffocation.

Your mind is playing tricks, these devils aren’t real, not when the one above you is flesh and bone attempting to end your miserable existence.

You’re dragged to the surface again, fighting for freedom from the death grip which holds you in the water as you lash out, a war cry almost deafening to your own sensitive ears.

It’s impossible to tell how long it goes on, your will for survival being challenged by a soul deep exhaustion, finger nails soaked in blood from scratching at his arms and even his bared skin around his throat and chest.

He’s content to watch the inevitable. The moment when your mind releases the concoction of chemicals to ease your death peacefully, because it could fight no longer as he repeatedly drowns you.

His eyes gleam with wicked joy, pupils enlarged as he pushes you beneath the water again, you’re thrashing so much more futile despite how you still struggled. You still wanted to live.

It’s inevitable though, when your vision goes dark, creeping in at the edges and swallowing your sight hole as a painless numbness washes over you.

You begin to hear again first. Strange warbled noises and hissing. Your foggy mind is content to drift, light as you feel rested and freed from the confines of agony which plagued you like a disease so long.

It sounds pained, the noises, the strange squelching and smacking not connecting as you languidly listen and try to decipher what was occurring around you.

Your vision returns next. Slowly, as if not to frighten you, your eyes begin to take in more and more light. Faded blurry shapes and colors becoming clarified into a full picture you could actually make out.

You were on the ground, this floor tiled like you’d see around a public pool. Face resting down as you looked at a familiar baptism pool which began filling your mind with dread.

The water was rippling, your eyes noting that the room was rocking.

Feeling came back last. You felt the chilly air slowly prick at your wet skin and hair, teeth sensitive as you felt your body rock, pressure and numbness beginning to fade into true feeling. Your hand was out stretched and dipped into the water, as if he couldn’t be bothered to fully pull you out, the cool liquid somewhat refreshing as your skin felt hot and feverish.

A blooming white hot pain in your rear caught your full attention though, body too weak to even manage words as you lay limp on the ground, realization dawning as full frontal clarity strikes you like a branding iron.

“Awake?” He muses, hand moving to press your face back down when you attempted to lift your head, not bothering to lessen his crushing weight as you choke and heave. Your eyes can only widen further, looking up at the mirrors which acted as a backdrop to the the pool to see your body and not recognize it. Not recognize you. As if this was all happening to another as he grunts, the hot iron rod which continued its path inside your taunt previously unused sphincter as you groan low in your throat like a wounded animal. Your own native language foreign in your mind as it goes blank to only focus on the mirrors.

His pretty face screwed up in pleasure, his tongue nearly hanging out his mouth as he pants and works his hips against you, more of a struggle to fully sheath himself inside your bleeding rectum due to the lack of preparation he’d done. The stretched ring of muscle inflamed as he lets a drop of spit hit just above it and slide around his cock as he grips your hips.

“You have such a tight little ass—fuck—,” his head drops, hair falling into his face as he watches you take him, pulling out occasionally to see how wide he’s left your abused asshole.

“—p-please—,” you brokenly whimper the words, still unable to fathom why this all was happening. What did you do?

It didn’t matter, not when his thrusts were getting rougher, thick cock spearing you and nearly tearing you open as he grunts and moans above you.

“Keep begging lamb, I want to hear it,” he chuckles, and your vision becomes blurred with tears you can’t even wipe away. Too tired and hurt. You wanted to sleep again.

He doesn’t like your unresponsiveness though, bucking hard and digging his knees into the ground to scoot you up.

You shriek as he pushes your torso back into the water, hand tangled in your hair as he cackles now, deranged expression lighting up at the break in your stoic facade.

“I-I’m sorry—!” Your voice is broken and raspy as you cry out, hands trying to keep him from pushing your head back into the water as his cock begins slamming inside you aggressively.

Blood, spit, and his earlier load he’d jerked and shot over your unconscious figure frothed at the base of his cock as he sinks inside you.

“Start begging lamb!” He moans as you tighten in fear and panic, senseless babbling too quick and jumbled for him to truly appreciate.

“Tsk, that’s not how you beg—fucking idiot,” he sighs, ruthless as he shoves you beneath the water again. Enjoying your futile struggle as your hips jerk and work his cock with delicious friction inside your rigid hot walls.

“Fuck yes, tighten your ass slut, that’s it!” He’s close just from watching you struggle.

Your eyes are open, staring at the bottom of the pool as he abuses your hole above the surface, oxygen deprived and delirious until he yanks your head up.

He moans loudly when you cough and sputter water out, the suction of your walls driving him wild as his thrusts become more jerky and uneven.

“O-oh God please—!” You can only sob for mercy, praying to be saved from the purgatory that is Tenko Shigaraki.

“Yes—! Pray to me baby, because I. Am. Your. Fucking. God.” He growls and punctuates each word with a merciless thrust, pushing you under one last time as he grinds his groin against your soft rear and pumps his load deep inside.

Bleary eyes blink open to dim lighting, seeing a familiar cell from the position of the metal bed.

Your head ached like it might split open any second, but your soul felt the most damaged.

You could only whimper and whine as you sat your stiffened body up, muscles screaming in protest as you stood before collapsing to the ground below.

It was a miserable reality as you dragged yourself over to the little toilet in the corner, attempting to relieve yourself but only finding the water saturated with murky red and clots.

The little sink difficult to use as a wash station, as you cup the icy water, for once grateful for it, and let it wash down your battered form.

It took what seemed like forever to clean away the evidence of him, but as you looked around, you realized blandly there were no clothes for you anymore.

What you’d worn to the… baptism, had been stripped in your unconscious state. He didn’t seem to feel like returning the tattered rags.

You crossed the room, laying beneath the metal bed now, content with just sitting with the low hum of aches inside and out of you. Curled on your side, you sit and watch the door in the dim orange glow of the lights.

They turned off the white fluorescents, which meant the noise would come soon.

It did, not long after that thought, the wailing siren began as you numbly looked ahead, no longer flinching at the noise.

Hours seemed to pass before your food arrived, which you crawled towards, content with eating on your stomach as you rested.

It was the familiar squeak which granted your friend the favor of seeing your face.

Your little mouse came just on time for… whatever meal this was. You hardly paid mind to it, throwing a few generous crumbs for your mouse like a gracious host.

“You should feel honored mouse, this is the finest bread they serve here.” Your giggle is slurred as you bite into the stale bread, mouth dry and the baked good only acting as sandpaper.

You finished it all though. Your mouse not one to be beat either, leaving no trace of the crumbs you’d left for it.

You smiled, content to watch it skitter about, before it curiously moved closer to you.

Then a little closer.

Then it was sniffing your finger, flinching back at first when you lift it, but coming back anyway as you softly pat its tiny head with the tip of your pointer.

“Am I all you got down here…?” You imagine those beady little eyes filled with intelligence and understanding.

“That’s okay. We can stick together.” It’s whispered like a sworn secret.

You let your eyes fall closed, trusting mouse not to attempt to nibble on you while you slept.

You awoke with a jolt, heart beating wildly in your chest as shadows rampaged around the room, the sound of the siren wailing as you try and scramble away from the chaos.

They were everywhere, trying to grab you, actually grabbing you, your scream of fright falling on empty halls as you struggle with your sanity.

Your legs kick out, arms thrashing as you attempt to fight off these morphing demons, hazy mind fighting for some sense of reason despite the madness.

A clawed hand reached at you from below, your palm instinctively coming down to smack it away in your panic.

The siren ends, and with it, the shadows seem to disperse as you pant and try to catch your breath, dizziness and fatigue weighing on you as your fingers rub together and feel something… stinky.

Your heart stops. The world seems to as well.

“Mouse…?”

It’s not real. Yet the little brown clump of fur and dark blood and guts could only be the dead body of your tiny friend.

“Mouse— I-I didn’t mean it— wait, why?!” Your shriek echoes, blood on your hand streaking your cheek now as you wail in anguish, careful to lift up the mangled corpse you’d crushed.

You did this. You hurt it. It was your fault.

It felt like you were being shattered. Screaming until you couldn’t anymore, coughing up blood from your raw and abused throat, clinging to your cooling friend as time became irrelevant.

Food came and went. You didn’t touch it. You didn’t know how many trays were given and taken away without a single piece touched, but it finally summoned him.

Heavy boots were your first clue, eyes still following shadows of little mice dancing around you.

The door opening changed the direction of your gaze as Tenko stepped inside, face impassive this time as he looks at you.

His presence invokes the tears which bubble and spill down your cheeks, quick to crawl on your knees to him like he was your last salvation.

“Please—,” your lower lip wobbled as your scratchy small voice broke the silence. “She’s hurt… I hurt her… please…” and he watched.

Watched the lovely little angel he adored lose her wings and fall to the depths of hell where he ruled.

“Shh… it’s okay, I’m here. Let me see,” he crouches down, smile soft and soothing to your frayed nerves, one hand moving to tuck a matted and tangled chunk of your hair behind your ear. He didn’t seem the least bit repulsed by the decomposing mouse corpse you held. Eyes focused and attentive on you, as you cried and confessed the sin of murder to him.

Like he was your God.

He wrapped you up in his arms, carrying you out as you sobbed weakly for mercy and forgiveness… for the little mouse and for your crime of harming it.

Your face buried in his neck, breathing in the scent of bleach and chemicals like it was fresh air.

You were curled up in a ball, rocking yourself comfortingly as you trembled in fear before hallucinations so real you weren’t able to differentiate anymore. Shadow monsters haunting you at every second except when he was around, trying to crawl into your mind and destroy you completely.

Your hands ran through your hair, clean now as Master had been returning nearly everyday to bathe you with him.

He should be back soon.

You glance at the bed and clean living space, somehow so foreign and alien that you feel terrified of even laying on it without him.

You hum a familiar hymn, counting the seconds until these demons are cast out in his presence.

Your soft skin is naked and bare, but the room is warm despite phantom goosebumps raising.

The door opens, boots muted on the fluffy carpet, strolling towards you with ease and grace as you unfurl and crawl towards him.

“Little lamb, did you miss me?” His cherry red eyes sparkling with amusement and mischief, glossy white hair swept back save a few strays which framed his face.

Your smile is genuine as you nod, “Welcome back Master.”

He watches you with immense satisfaction, your skin and hair healthier now that you’ve been rehabilitated and given proper nutrition and care.

You sit perfectly still, nude body on display for thousands of eyes. The solemn atmosphere disallows for embarrassment as Master speaks, voice carrying his message and voice of God for the people.

“With this sacrifice, let our sins be washed in blood!” his arms spread wide, the cheer of the church deafening yet you move not a single muscle.

You don’t watch, even as the muffled screams become gurgled sounds of drowning.

The sacrifice had to be a damned sinner, one Master deemed better off sent to Heaven early. Dying for the church like this meant even though they were unclean, they could still find salvation through their death. It wasn’t anything new, even as a child you’d witnessed such things.

You cease useless thoughts, eyes trained on him.

He caught your gaze, eyes crinkling as he grins before winking.

They smear the freshly spilled blood over you, hooded masked members wordlessly carrying out the ritual.

“Now the blood of a virgin needs to be spilled…” he murmurs for heads to bow, prayer beginning but you don’t close your eyes, staring out blankly as iron burns your nostrils.

Your skin painted with the blood of a sinner, laid dead on another alter, which you let yourself skip from staring at.

The prayer finishes as Master rises, turning his attention on you as he walks your way. His clothing is all white, current appearance similar to a saint as he approaches.

“Little lamb,” he smoothes a hand through your soft hair with affection, bright red eyes nearly glowing as he leans close, undeterred by the blood coating your cheeks, lips, forehead, and major portions of your body. “Are you ready to be slaughtered?”

A chant in the crowd begins. Hummed at first, building in volume, the words ominous. “Lamb for slaughter.”

You briefly wonder if you’re next, just like the man they’d gutted next to you.

You nod anyway. It hardly mattered whatever he chose to do with you.

Your eyes still widened in surprise as he pushed you gently to lay back on the alter, as he climbed up as well before his people watching with heated gazes.

Master grins, looking sinister and beautiful as he licks his lips and addresses the masses.

“I shall now make the virgin bleed,” you don’t question him as he easily spreads your thighs open, leaving your slit on full view for the crowd and his own eyes.

“Be good for me lamb, I know you can do it,” these words are hushed and spoken just for you, as he places a gentle kiss on your forehead. The action is soothing, and you allow your muscles to relax as you watch the crowd with a mixture of emotion.

Were they real or shadows?

You jolt as you feel something hot and wet prod your vaginal entrance, looking down to see Master had freed his heavy thick cock, erect and leaking from the dark red tip as he pumps it with his free hand a few times.

Then he lets the soft warm tip slip through your folds, parting them to press.

It takes immense force that leaves your chest heaving for air as your finger nails chip and break on the marble alter, body wracked with the intense desire to cringe and pull away.

You stay still, as he grunts pushing into your dry walls, essentially digging his cock inside your cunt to burrow deep.

You’re hardly breathing anymore, face frozen in agony as he stuffed you with each searing inch as you grit your teeth and endured.

The chanting was muted by the muddled noise in your head, like water in your ears, as tears slid down your cheeks.

He pulls out completely once his tip kisses your cervix. His cock coated in a sheen of your blood, though whether it was actually your hymen or the tearing of your vaginal walls was not important. It was the symbolism.

He lets his people take in the sight of you both, feeling pride swell inside him as they grow wild with excitement, moving to close in around you both now. The elders stayed back, their robes and masks in place as they continued the chant while the younger and common members touched and groped your trembling body, smearing the blood and even moving it down to your slit where you jerked a little.

“Be gentle with my lamb, tonight, I make her my wife on this auspicious occasion.” His teeth are sharp and glaring as he smiles, your eyes watching as if behind a screen.

What day was it? You wondered oddly, curious why you couldn’t recall it at all.

Master begins disrobing, shamelessly revealing each inch of his lean muscular build for all eyes as he falls on you again, this time caging your view in to only see him.

Your eyes connect, his alight with joy. “Keep your eyes on me while I fuck you stupid tonight.” He whispers in your ear, too low for anyone else to pick up on, using the position to lick the shell of it as you moan at the strange sensation.

He uses one arm to stay propped above you, letting the other move towards the hooded hard nub just above your slit, pressing softly and rubbing circles as electric shocks of pleasure zap up your spine. Your toes cramp as you try to straighten, but his hips smashing against you ass he sinks into you again stop your movements.

Your eyes widen in shock.

It doesn’t hurt at all.

It’s strange, the fullness still heavy and different, but the sting and ache are gone as he uses the blood of that scapegoat as lube to fuck your pretty cunt.

Tenko laughs as your eyes glaze over, face already showing the euphoria as he works your clit and his cock slowly into you, taking his time this round without the necessity of injuring you.

His gaze even gentle as he almost lovingly fucks you, the terrified expression on your face amusing at the very least for him.

“Relax lamb, we got the pain out of the way, just keep your legs spread for me and I’ll do all the work.” He assures, and like always, you fall for it.

He works you both to climax quickly, chuckling as you clamp and seize around his cock helplessly.

Your hands gripping at his shoulders as he leans down to kiss you, slipping his tongue in your mouth for a filthy kiss that leaves you light headed and pliant as he hardens again inside you.

You glance down wearily, his hips grinding back into you as his finger works your clit again.

“Let’s feel so good we both want to die.” Those red eyes seal your fate.

“Tenko! Stop breaking your toys, I’m not gonna share mine if you do.” Small childish and chubby hands grip at his own, tugging the toy owned by you from his grasp as he eyes you with disdain not matching a child his age.

“I have to break them.” He rolls his eyes, picking up the disfigured doll he’d “fixed” given to him by his previous family. The ones before his Master Father Shigaraki took him in.

“Why? That’s stupid.” You retort, obnoxious as you try to hide your dolls as if he even wanted them.

“Because if I don’t break it, then how is it even really mine?”

Post dividers/@cafekitsune

A/N:

I hope you enjoyed this piece! It was very self indulgent if I’m being honest~

[artemis32]

Carte Blanche

Yandere! Shigaraki x female reader

College au (no quirks)

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

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

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

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

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

word count - 21k

****

art’s birthday event masterlist

bnha masterlist

****

****

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

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

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

University was a whole new experience.

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

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

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

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

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

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

****

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kirishima, what the hell?” you yell.

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

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

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

Yuck yuck yuck yuck.

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

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

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

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

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

“So, what’s up? It sounded urgent.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“- Kurogiri,” you clarify.

Kirishima nods in acknowledgement, continuing with a hum.

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

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

You hum, thumbing the pages of your textbook.

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

You throw him a tired smile.

He reaches out to you, almost hesitantly.

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

Protests fall from your lips before he finishes his sentence.

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

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

“Wait, I still have to study!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

****

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

Private.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yep, I already hate him.

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes widen, his blatant disrespect shocking you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right on the mark, huh?”

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

“Yeah, haha, you got me there.”

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

What the fuck is up with this guy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

****

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

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

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

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

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

What else…

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

Red.

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

They were beautiful. And they were angry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, bite me.”

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

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

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

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

Kirishima deadpans, raising an eyebrow as he addresses you.

“What am I, a pack mule?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sero’s eyes bulge.

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

“Um, ethics versus morality.”

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

“Yeah? How far are you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They exchange a glance then look back at you.

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

“Yeah, what about it?” you ask.

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

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

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

He looks shocked, but shakes your hand, nonetheless.

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

Kirishima laughs, leaning forward to look at Sero.

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

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

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

You grimace, shaking your head.

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

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

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

You sigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

I can handle it; you think to yourself.

****

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

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

Like right now, for example. He’s been laughing at you under his breath for the last fifteen minutes, and you’re near tears by the time you drag your eyes up to meet his gaze.

His face is turned away from you, his focus on his laptop. It might have looked as though he was ignoring you, but the slight shake of his shoulders gives him away.

When you had arrived, he’d told you, somewhat smugly, that you’d have to try to answer the questions he gave you by yourself.

Initially, you thought you could do it - surely it couldn’t be that difficult? You were proven wrong after sitting, staring at the same problem for the last forty-five minutes. The first question of twenty.

You knew what he wanted - you knew he wanted you to ask him for help. Why, you weren’t sure. Maybe he wanted some sort of twisted power trip? Have you beg him for help with tears of frustration or embarrassment in your eyes? Regardless of his reasoning, and regardless of your previous resolve, you were frustrated and beyond embarrassed, and you wanted the session to end more than anything, but a stipulation of your tutoring was that you weren’t allowed to leave until you’d completed the set work for each session.

If that had been a rule of Shigaraki’s design, you would have laughed and ignored it, but it was a decision made by Professor Kurogiri of all people. Ignoring it would have been disrespectful, considering all that your professor had done for you thus far.

And so, you decide to suck up your pride and ask him for help, even if you’d much rather walk into oncoming traffic or stick pins in your eyes than give him the satisfaction of admitting that you were as dumb as he thought you were.

You shuffle the pile of papers, straighten out your stationery and laptop, take a drink of water, but eventually, you can’t stall any longer, so you pluck up the courage, steel your resolve, and clear your throat.

“Um, Shigaraki?” you address him in a quiet tone, waiting until he turns to look at you with amused eyes. He hums, nodding at you to continue, lips still quirked in what can only be described as a self-satisfied smirk.

You try to smile, though it comes out more strained than you’d like.

“Do, um- Do you think you could help me with this question?” you ask with an averted gaze.

“Please.” It’s added on a long second later, more of an afterthought than a genuine nicety.

He makes you wait for his answer, grabbing his bag and making a show of shuffling through its contents. Eventually, he pulls out an energy drink – a neon green can with spiked writing covering the sides.

It fizzes when he pops the tab, and he gulps down a few mouthfuls before setting it down and wiping what had dribbled out from the corners of his mouth with the back of his hand.

Gross.

“What, you’re so incompetent that you can’t even answer these questions? They’re so easy,” he remarks scornfully, his tone filled with false concern, nose and eyebrows scrunching up in an expression of mocking disappointment.

“I knew you were dumb, but this? This is something else. Have these study sessions taught you nothing, or are you as airheaded as you look?”

You feel yourself growing frustrated, and as hard as you try, you can’t seem to keep the scowl off your face.

“You’re a tutor,” you reply tersely. “You’re here to help me, and that’s all I’m asking for. It’s not like I’m asking for a limb or your first-born child here.”

He smiles more widely at your words, aware that he’s getting under your skin.

When he doesn’t say anything, you huff, turning your back towards him and face your laptop, mumbling under your breath.

“Who shoved a stick up your ass. You’d swear I shit in your cereal with the way you treat me.”

His palm, wide and pale, lands on your shoulder. You jump slightly before tensing up under his grip, all too aware of how close he is.

“You should just drop this course,” he whispers in your ear. “After all, whores don’t have much use for a degree - not when they sleep their way to the top of the corporate ladder.”

A slight ringing fills your ears, and it persists even after he lets go of your shoulder and moves back to his seat.

You try to shut his words out, to swallow down your anger and embarrassment. You try, you really do, but the ringing fills your head, and your anger makes it worse, leaving you dizzy and hot.

You fail miserably, standing abruptly, shoving your chair back without care.

“You know what, no,” you say while shoving your belongings into your bag, slinging it over your shoulder. Tears prickle at your eyes despite how hard you blink to keep them at bay, and your hands curl into tight fists. “No, I’m done here.”

“I don’t care if I fail - I refuse to deal with you for another minute, let alone the rest of the semester. You’re worse than a child, at least they know when to shut up.”

You walk out with a feeling of satisfaction burning in your chest. You only wish you’d said more, told him exactly what you thought about him and his disgusting attitude.

But as you walk back to your dorm, you lose yourself in your thoughts, and the satisfied feeling is soon replaced with overwhelming anxiety.

What would Professor Kurogiri say when you told him what had happened? Who else would he assign to you? Surely none of his options were worse than Shigaraki. You’d just have to ask him when you went to tell him that you couldn’t deal with the insolent tutor any longer.

****

“I’m sorry, but you need to remain with Mr Shigaraki.”

Your mouth drops open at your professor's words.

“But Professor-!”

He cuts you off with a raise of his hand. “If you’ll give me a chance to explain,” he says with a pointed look.

You huff out, but nod at him anyway, allowing him to continue.

“These tutoring sessions are for your benefit as much as they are for Mr Shigaraki. As you may well know, he’s at the top of his class, but despite that, he too lacks credits in certain areas.”

He looks at you with an expectant gaze. When you say nothing, he sighs and continues.

“Mr Shigaraki is… for lack of a better word, a recluse. While his grades may be exemplary, his participation leaves much to be desired. That being said, I assigned him as a tutor to supplement those credits, and to teach him the valuable life skills of compromise and teamwork.”

His words don’t surprise you - Shigaraki didn’t seem like the type to work well in groups or voluntarily take part in anything. Your only problem with your professor’s plan was that he chose you to help Shigaraki.

Shigaraki’s bad attitude was tolerable, he was harmless - but his hate filled words weren’t something you could handle for another day, let alone the whole semester.

As if he senses your thoughts, he continues, fixing you with a sudden cold, hard look, his golden eyes cutting into you.

“Should you choose to cease these tutoring sessions, not only will Mr Shigaraki fail, but you will as well. Now, as I’ve said, you will need to remain with Mr Shigaraki as your tutor until the end of the semester. Good day.”

You sit in shock, watching as he leaves without waiting for a reply.

Had… Had your professor just threatened you? There was no way.

****

Two hours later, you’re still thinking, sitting in shock from the earlier encounter.

You sit in a cafe off campus, slowly sipping at your drink as you stare off into space. A hand waves in front of your face, grabbing your attention.

“Oh, hi Mina,” you greet the pink haired girl with a forced smile, rising to hug her.

“What’s up with that look?” she asks with a light laugh as she sits across from you.

Sighing heavily, you slump forward, hesitating for only a moment before asking, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.” Mina is leaning forward now, curiosity openly painting her features.

“Shigaraki Tomura - what do you know about him?”

It was something you should have done weeks ago, before meeting with your professor, before your first tutoring session - you should have asked when you found out that he would be your tutor.

Mina was an encyclopaedia of information on the people of your university. No one did anything without Mina finding out about it. She knew everything about everyone and that meant that people often came to her for whatever gossip or advice they needed.

She frowns lightly, drumming her nails against the tabletop as she thinks.

“Well, I know that he’s older than us. I know that he’s a decent student with great marks - like, top of the course kind of great, but his social skills are terrible - did you know he sulks in the corner whenever he’s at a party? He doesn’t even talk to anyone. Like, why even bother showing up,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Oh, and his dad is one of the university's main donors, so he’s, like, totally rich. Major daddy’s boy; gets whatever he wants.”

She falls silent for a moment before shrugging and taking a sip from her own drink.

“That’s about it. Like I said, he isn’t very social, so I don’t know much about him. Plus, the people he hangs around aren’t really my crowd either - they’re, y’know,” she gestures strangely with her hand, twisting her wrist in circles, though it drops down when you shrug, telling her that you don’t understand.

“You know, Dabi and Hawks, all those guys,” she says, wrinkling her nose as if she smelled something bad.

“A bunch of damn creeps,” she mutters under her breath, barely loud enough for you to hear her.

You fix her with a blank stare.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She pauses for a moment, a dark look overshadowing her eyes. The look disappears faster than it appeared, and she laughs again, stirring her drink.

“Yeah, I’m not surprised - all you do these days is study.”

She pouts, pointing the spoon she’d been using in her drink at you in an accusatory way.

“I miss my best friend; we never do anything fun anymore.”

That makes you laugh, and it's a light, carefree sound. You’d forgotten how much you enjoyed Mina’s company, despite having such opposing personalities. After the horrible month you’d had, being around her felt like a breath of fresh air.

“Well maybe if you stayed in the dorms we’d see each other more often,” you tease.

During your first two years at university, most of your friends had lived in the student dormitories alongside you. At the beginning of your third year though, Mina had let you know that she’d managed to find an off-campus apartment that she’d be staying in for the year.

Originally, it had been wonderful - you didn’t have to worry about getting into trouble for staying up late or sneaking people in whenever you slept over at Mina’s, but the novelty soon wore off when classes became more strenuous, and you had to spend more time in your own dorm.

Plans became few and far between, though the two of you remained very close friends.

Mina wrinkles her nose again, her eyebrows scrunching together.

“No way, the dorms were fun and all, but I love having my own space. I don’t think I could ever go back to sharing such a cramped space like that again.”

She deliberates for a moment before speaking again.

“You know, the offer still stands - I don’t mind if you move in with me. In fact, I want you to. It’ll be so fun, just the two of us, exactly like it used to be.”

Her words sound almost pleading, but you’re already shaking your head before she even finishes her sentence.

“I’m sorry,” you say with an apologetic frown, “but you know I can’t. Maybe next year, I promise I’ll think about it. Just… right now isn’t a great time.”

She nods in understanding, quickly changing the topic.

****

You replay Mina’s words in your mind as you walk home.

…his dad is one of the university's main donors, so he's, like, totally rich.

Of course he was rich. It was no wonder you got stuck with him, Professor Kurogiri had probably been pressured by the university’s board to make sure that Shigaraki passed without hassle.

You were furious. Not only did you have to remain with Shigaraki for tutoring - you also had no way out of the arrangement without completely failing your course.

Thoughts of self-pity and anger play on a loop in your mind as you walk home.

You weren’t sure if you’d be able to play pretend for the rest of the semester. Acting as if you didn’t mind his vulgar attitude was difficult on the best of days, never mind the fact that you had already proved that his words got under your skin.

Should I pretend like nothing happened? Should I ignore him whenever he says something rude? Ugh, this is a nightmare.

By the time you get back to your room, you’re too drained to do anything but crawl into bed and bury yourself under the thick duvet.

You wished more than anything that you could just sleep for a few hours, become oblivious to whatever the hell was going on in your life, but you couldn’t.

The hiking club you insisted all your friends join had been fun originally, but now it acted as more of a hindrance than anything else.

But still, you steal the few hours that you can, lightly dozing off a few times before you wake up to the blaring ringtone of your phone.

“Hello,” you mumble blearily, rubbing at your eyes as you check the time on the clock next to your bed.

Oh shit.

“You’re late,” Kirishima states in place of a greeting.

You scramble out of bed, holding your phone between your shoulder and ear as you hurriedly gather your hiking clothes, bumping into the doorframe in your haste. You let out a yelp before answering.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. Where are you? I’m leaving now.”

“Outside,” he says.

A beat of silence passes before he continues.

“Bakugo’s pissed.”

Your heart drops, and you trip on your way out of your room, barely remembering to grab your keys.

The look on his face when you eventually arrive is one of irritation – the furrow of his eyebrows, the slight downturn of his lips.

Yes, Bakugo Katsuki was not happy.

“I am so sorry, I fell asleep and lost track of time,” you say, dumping your bag on the ground as you shove your shoes on and hurriedly tie up the laces.

“Tch, whatever. Let’s just go. We’re losing daylight.”

He turns and leaves, and you’re left with Kirishima, who you throw an apologetic look.

“Sorry,” you offer sheepishly, busying yourself with your bag so that you don’t have to make eye contact.

He just sighs, gesturing for you to lead the way.

The three of you meet up with Sero and Jirou, the latter of whom greets you with an enthusiasm you haven’t seen in a while. It felt good to be happy again, even if it was just for a few hours.

Hours later, when the five of you are settled down and taking a short halftime break before heading back, Sero sits down next to you and bumps your shoulder with his own.

“Hey, so, what are the plans for the end of semester hike?”

His question catches the attention of the rest of the group, and they all look your way.

“Oh, well, actually I’ve already planned it. But since you brought it up, I’ll tell you all now.”

You reach into your bag, grabbing a small travel journal, flipping to the middle of the book.

“So I was thinking we could do a longer hike than the ones we usually do. I'm estimating the route I chose will take four days, maybe longer if we stop to sightsee. Ooh, there’s this really cool waterfall at the halfway mark, I was thinking we could camp out there for a bit. Oh, and! There’s this cave system nearby that’s safe for exploration, so that would be cool to check out too,” you say, looking up at them when you’ve finished.

“What do you guys think? Of course, we’ll have to let the others know too, and I’m still working out some of the other specifics, but that’s the gist of it so far.”

You huff proudly when you finish talking and fix them with an expectant look.

They seem to mull over your words for a bit, thinking it through.

Bakugo is the first to speak, breaking the silence with the same raspy tone he always has.

“So, it’s a long hike, huh? You sure you won’t drop out at the last minute or forget again?”

Kirishima slaps his shoulder lightly, a noise of indignance escaping him on your behalf.

“Come on dude, don’t be like that. You know how it is, you can’t always plan ahead. You can’t hold it against her.”

Bakugo huffs, rolling his eyes slightly.

“All I’m saying is that if you’re having a hard time with something, you need to say so. We can’t read your mind, and honestly, this guessing game is getting old.”

His words make you pause, fighting off the lump in your throat.

Bakugo Katsuki truly had the strangest way of showing that he cared about his friends. If it had been said by anyone else, you would have assumed that he was acting callously, saying what he did to make you mad. But it was Bakugo - honest, harsh, crude Bakugo, who always spoke his mind, no matter how upsetting it may be.

Sometimes his blunt honesty was exactly what you needed, and right at that moment, he seemed to know that.

Not trusting yourself to speak without your voice cracking, you only nod.

Kirishima and Bakugo seem to have a hushed argument for a moment before Bakugo lets out an exaggerated huff of annoyance, standing and making his way towards you, dropping down onto the log with his heavy limbs. Sero jumps up and heads over to where Kirishima sits.

The log rocks slightly with the added weight, and you have to throw your arms out to stabilise yourself.

“Look, I- uh… I’m sorry about that. It came out wrong, I was too harsh. I just- We’re just concerned about you, y’know,” he says, his face turned away from you. You think you might be imagining it, but it almost looks as if his ears are a few shades pinker than they’d been five minutes ago.

“We just- you have to talk if something is bothering you. We can’t help unless we know what the problem is, y’know?”

You sit there, staring at him in shocked silence. Never in all your years did you think you’d see the day that the Bakugo Katsuki admitted that he cared about anyone, least of all about you. You knew he cared about his friends, though he had a strange way of showing it. You knew that he cared about you. But seeing it like this, seeing him admit that they were all concerned about you - it warmed your heart.

You sniffed, lightly tapping his shoulder.

He turns with an odd mix of protests and apologies dripping from his tongue, but quickly falls silent when you hug him. It’s gentle, you’re barely even touching him, but he sits in stunned silence for a few moments before he awkwardly wraps his arms around your waist and pats your back.

You laugh at that, gently squeezing his sides.

“Thanks Bakugo. I just… This whole tutoring thing is more stress than it’s worth, and I don’t know how to deal with it,” you say, pulling away after a moment.

“Sorry that I’m making this your problem too. That’s the last thing that I wanted to do…” you trail off, deep in thought.

You clear your throat before speaking.

“To be honest with you, I haven’t been a great friend to any of you these past few months,” you say evenly, holding up a palm when Sero and Kirishima jump in to interject.

“No, no, listen to me. I’m sorry. I just… I’ve been so consumed with my problems that I haven’t been able to focus on anything else, and that’s not fair to all of you. I promise, from now on, I’ll tell you about my problems. I won’t try to bury them and ignore you to deal with it alone.”

Bakugo huffs besides you, shoulders shaking in silent laughter that steadily rises in volume. He throws his head back with a relieved sigh, throwing his arm around you and dragging you closer to his side.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, now was it. Told you dumbass, she just needed to admit it,” he says to the stunned redhead.

Kirishima ducks his head in embarrassment, mumbling under his breath.

“Now, do you want to tell us what’s wrong?” he says, fixing you with a hard look.

You wet your lips slightly, nodding in mute agreement.

“Yeah. Yeah, I will. It’s just…” you take a deep breath, staring down at the ground, speaking in a rush before you lose your nerve.

“That tutor I told you guys about, the one Professor Kurogiri assigned to me, he was such a creep and he worked so fast I couldn’t keep up, and I tried to tough it out, I really did. I just - I couldn’t. And I tried to speak to the professor, but he basically said tough shit, and that I’d fail if I tried to find a different tutor, and I’m just so tired. I don’t know what to do.”

You let out a shaky gasp when you’re done.

A part of you had thought that you’d feel ashamed admitting that you had to give up, or that you had to ask for help at all, especially from your friends. But now, instead of shame or sadness, you feel relieved.

It felt as though you could breathe easily for the first time in a while, and you regretted not talking to them sooner.

You almost felt bad, to an extent. They were your friends, but you hadn’t trusted them as you should have.

How would you have felt if your roles had been reversed, you wondered?

Jirou slides onto the log next to you, grabbing your hand in hers.

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” she questions.

“I- I didn’t want to worry anyone,” you huff out a short laugh before continuing, “and honestly, I thought I was overreacting in the beginning. I didn’t want you guys to laugh at me.”

At that, Jirou scoffs.

“Please, as if we’d laugh.”

She pauses for a moment.

“Well, Kaminari might, but we’d put him in his place. And anyway, that’s what we’re here for - friends are meant to help you out and listen to your problems. You’re not a burden.”

You laugh lightly, mainly to stop yourself from tearing up.

It felt good to get all your worries off your chest.

Then, a thought hit you.

“Hey Bakugo,” you call.

He hums, pausing his muted conversation with Sero and Kirishima.

“How’d you know about all that anyway? I haven’t really been around lately, so how’d you know I was feeling off?”

The three men exchange glances with one another, holding a silent conversation before coming to an agreement.

“Ah, well, Mina may or may not have mentioned your meet up earlier today. She, um, said you didn’t look great. Asked us to check up on you. And Sero and Kirishima mentioned that you seemed upset since your study session a few weeks ago, so…” he trails off.

At that, you felt a mixture of embarrassment and gratitude. Embarrassment, because your friends were apparently speaking about you behind your back, and gratitude, because they seemed to have done it out of a place of love and concern.

“I, uh, thanks? I guess? I’ll be honest, I don’t actually know how to feel about that.”

Kirishima makes his way over to you, holding his hand out for you. When you accept it, he pulls you up and pats you on the shoulder.

“Well, try not to think about it too much.”

His grin makes you laugh, and you nod along sarcastically.

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

You glance up at the sky and realise with a start that you’d been so lost in conversation that you hadn’t realised the sun had long since set.

“Oh shit, we should probably pack up and leave, huh?”

A chorus of curses and agreements sound out, and the five of you hurriedly pack up your belongings.

“And um, let me know what you think about that hike. You guys never actually said anything,” you say, laughing awkwardly.

They call out reassurances as you make your way back down the mountains, and on the way, the five of you brainstorm ways to get out of your current predicament.

Unsurprisingly, the only worthwhile solution you manage to come up with is to tough it out.

On the brightside, you think to yourself as you watch your four friends talk as they amble ahead of you, at least now I have people to vent to. That should help some, right?

****

Someone was calling your name.

“Please stay back for a moment. I have something to discuss with you,” Professor Aizawa calls to you with a hard look.

Your stomach drops.

Sero throws you a concerned glance, lingering by your side, but you wave him off, turning instead to make your way through the crushing crowd towards the lecturer’s desk.

While Professor Aizawa might have been your favourite professor, he had a certain reputation amongst the students – an infamous hard ass, one with a slightly off-putting air about him. Being called on in class was something most people dreaded, never mind being asked to stay behind – that was as good as a death sentence in his class. Nothing good ever came from it. What you’d done to deserve it, you weren’t sure.

Eventually, you make your way to his desk. Only a few students still linger about.

“Yes Professor, you wanted to see me?” you question, fidgeting about nervously.

“Would you please meet me in my office in fifteen minutes.”

Oh.

Oh no.

It isn’t a request. You swallow thickly, more nervous than you should be considering you’ve done nothing wrong.

You nod in agreement, but internally, your panic is difficult to contain.

Had you failed a test? Did he think you cheated on a test? Had you forgotten about an assignment?

You aren’t given much time to overthink things, your racing thoughts cut off abruptly as you realise you’re stood outside his office. He holds the door open, ushering you in before shutting it behind him.

He gestures towards the seat opposite his desk.

“Sit, please,” he says as he takes his own seat.

You sit, still shaking and panicked.

“Um, Professor, if you don’t mind me asking – have I done something wrong?” you ask shakily.

And then, he laughs.

It sounds nice, but it’s too serious of a sound for him to actually find anything you said funny.

“Ah, Prof–” you start, but he cuts you off.

“No, don’t worry, you’re not in trouble. I just wanted to have a word with you.”

You breathe a sigh of relief, slumping slightly in your seat.

Oh, thank goodness.

You give him a quizzical look once you’ve collected your thoughts, and he takes that as his sign to continue. His eyes still dance with amusement. Embarrassment burns your cheeks.

“I’ve heard you’re being tutored for an engineering class – Mr Shigaraki, if I’m not mistaken?”

Your stomach drops.

“This is about… Shigaraki, sir?” you clarify. He nods.

“Uh, yeah – yes, he’s my tutor, sir.” You feel stiff and awkward.

What is this about?

Aizawa hums in contemplation, moving a few papers around his desk before addressing you again.

“And… how have you found him?”

How have you found him. Not his methods, not his intelligence – him.

“Professor, I’m not sure what exactly you’re asking me,” you answer cautiously, unsure of what to say.

He lets out a noise of frustration, bringing his hand up to his face, massaging the bridge of his nose while he thinks of how to reword his question.

“Has he said or done anything… How do I put this? Off-putting?”

Your fingers flex, gripping at the bottom of your sweater.

Why was he asking you these questions?

“Uh, well… Professor, do you mind me asking why you want to know?”

You cringe slightly but remain resolute. You deserved to know why he was asking such specific questions, especially since the situation had nothing to do with him.

“Hm, no specific reason – call it a hunch.”

Somehow, you don’t believe him. But you don’t push for an answer, instead leaning back and deliberating for a long moment.

If I tell him, maybe he’ll be able to do something? Get me a different tutor, maybe? Or he can talk to Professor Kurogiri?

Or maybe I shouldn’t say anything.

…Is the situation really so bad that I should go running to other professors for help?

No. No it’s not. This whole debacle has gotten out of hand – Shigaraki isn’t that bad. Sure, he makes me uncomfortable, and he says strange things, but maybe that’s just how he is.

Realisation strikes you then, and you feel horror mounting.

Oh my gosh, what if I’m the rude one. He probably thinks I am. Professor Kurogiri did say he struggles with his social skills – what if I’m just making everything worse?

I’ve really blown this whole thing way out of proportion.

The entire time you spiral down into your own thoughts, Professor Aizawa sits opposite you, watching quietly as your expression shifts from one of suspicion, to neutrality, to realisation, to slight horror.

“I’m so sorry Professor, but I have to go,” you say, jumping up from your seat and hurrying to the door.

Aizawa stops you before you can run out, calling out your name.

“I understand you may not want to tell me about it, but just know, I taught Shigaraki for a brief period. I know what he’s like, I’ve seen it first-hand.”

He sighs heavily, getting up to meet you at the door.

“Have you asked Professor Kurogiri for a different tutor? If you haven’t already, I really think you should.”

You stare at him blankly, thinking about his words. You shake your head a moment later, opening the door and slipping past him.

“Thank you, Professor, I appreciate your concern. I have asked Professor Kurogiri for a different tutor, but he said that the situation doesn’t allow for it. But regardless; I’m fine – really, I am.”

You stare at the ground, missing the concerned look Aizawa sends your way.

“I- I think I may have overreacted a bit, and the last thing I want to do is make the situation worse by involving other people – it’s bad enough as is. Besides, even if I was right, it’s just this semester that I have to deal with him. I’m sure I can handle it.”

Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about, Aizawa thinks, still staring down at you.

You bid him goodbye, quickly leaving his office immediately afterwards.

Aizawa stares at the spot you once stood in, lost in thought. Really, how could you convince him that everything was fine when you yourself didn’t believe it?

****

Asking Shigaraki to meet you for another tutoring session felt like sticking needles in your eyes. It had been painful and awkward, and he barely bothered giving one-word answers to your text messages.

But, against all odds, you’d managed to power through the interaction, and he had agreed to meet you for another session, though he’d made it more than clear that it would be your last.

Instead of the usual private study room the two of you would meet in, Shigaraki had asked you to meet in the main library. It had taken you a while to find the small nook he’d tucked himself into, one shoved in the very back of the library where there were no windows and the overhead lights barely managed to lighten the dense darkness, but when you did, you were shocked to see that he was accompanied by another man.

He’s handsome, you think, in a… messy kind of way. His appearance in general was messy, but somehow, it seemed to suit him.

Black, spiky hair complemented his bright blue eyes. His clothes, mirroring Shigaraki’s, were worn and oversized, and his face was adorned with piercings of various kinds. You were also sure you saw tattoos peeking out from behind his hoodie, reaching up his neck and curling around his face, but you weren’t sure.

You shake your head, chiding yourself for staring. After you’ve calmed your racing mind, you clear your throat, catching their attention.

It makes you uncomfortable, their intense focus, and you feel your skin prickle painfully under watchful eyes.

Silence stretches out, and the two men share a look before the black-haired man stands up, scratching the back of his head.

“Well, that’s my cue, I guess. See you around Dusty.”

You try not to let your shock show, especially when Shigaraki only rolls his eyes, not mentioning the offensive nickname.

He passes by you, pausing when he’s right next to you. It wasn’t clear while he was sitting, but he was lanky – he was tall. He leans down, intruding in your space, his gaze dissecting you.

“Hm, so you’re the one who pissed him off, huh?”

He leans back, thankfully, though still too close for comfort.

“So, you gonna apologise or what? Cause let me tell ya, he’s been a real pain in the ass for the past couple of days because of you.”

You stare up at him, wide eyed and confused, mouth hanging open while he stares at you.

“Wha-? Apologise?” you mumble under your breath, confusion twisting your features.

He hovers over you, leaning closer than he should.

“Yeah. Apologise. You were really rude to my buddy, so I have to insist. You should apologise.”

His eyes seem to bore into you, picking you apart, looking at the pieces of yourself that even you don’t like.

You chance a glance at Shigaraki, hoping that he’ll intervene, tell his friend to back off. But when you look at him, he’s already staring at you, watching the interaction between you and his friend with apathetic eyes.

Never mind that you’d already planned on apologising – something about being told to rubbed you the wrong way.

“Fine,” you mumble. “Okay, I- I’ll apologise.”

Swallowing thickly, you bow your head slightly, lowering your eyes to the ground in a gesture of both respect and humiliation.

“Ah, I’m, um, really sorry about what I said Shigaraki. I… I feel I may have overreacted a bit, and it was unfair of me to treat you like that. Please, keep tutoring me?”

It hurt to swallow your pride like that, but you didn’t have much of a choice.

The dark-haired man laughs lowly, patting you on the back.

“See, that wasn’t so difficult, now was it?” he says, finally taking his leave.

“Oh, my name’s Dabi by the way. I have a feeling we’ll be great friends.”

His words leave you feeling sick, and the feeling is made worse when you turn to look at Shigaraki and find that he’s still staring at you, though his eyes hold more of a spark than they had a moment before. Of interest or amusement, you aren’t sure.

“Are you really sorry? You weren’t just saying that because he made you, right?” he asks you suspiciously, as if not wanting himself to become too hopeful.

You release a heavy breath, slowly walking towards him and setting your bag down on the table.

“Yeah, I’m sorry Shigaraki. I thought about it for a bit, and I think I treated you badly. I apologise.”

You don’t mention how he should apologise too, or that he treated you just as badly, if not worse. Instead, you reach into your bag and grab the can laying near the bottom.

“Here,” you say, shoving the neon green can his way.

He blinks up at you like a shocked owl, looking between you and your outstretched hand.

“You got this for… me?” he asks, still staring up at you.

“Yeah, I, um – I saw you drinking it the other day and you never accept anything I give you, so I thought I’d try my luck. If you don’t want it that’s cool too,” you say, withdrawing your hand.

“No,” he says quickly, grabbing your wrist. You suck in a shocked breath, eyes wide and heart pounding.

“No, I want it… Thank you.”

He takes the can but doesn’t let go of your wrist. His hand is cold and dry, and it feels like your skin is on fire wherever he touches you.

“Um, Shigaraki?”

He hums, still staring, still holding your wrist.

“Could you please let go of my hand?”

He starts, dropping your wrist as if it burned him.

“Right, sorry about that,” he says, not meeting your gaze.

He clears his throat, gesturing to the seat next to him.

“Let’s get to work, you’re pretty far behind.”

You sit.

****

Months have passed and the two of you seem to have fallen into something of a comfortable rhythm.

You still can’t stand him, but you hide your feelings well, buttering him up with flowery words and empty admiration. He seems to enjoy it, always leaving your tutoring sessions with a small, satisfied smirk on his face.

As much as you tried to keep your spirits up, internally you were counting down the days until the end of the semester.

Currently, there were three weeks left until your final engineering exam, and that meant that every waking hour not spent studying for other exams was spent with Shigaraki, crammed in a tiny study room for hours on end with nothing but the blue-haired man and your own thoughts for company.

Shigaraki himself had developed a few strange habits over the past few months.

For one, he always arrived before you did, which had never happened before. He also tended to slow his pace if he noticed you struggling to keep up.

You didn’t mention it, intent on getting through the remaining few weeks without stirring up any trouble.

But it bothered you, his change in personality.

He now accepted your gifts, though why you kept bringing them, you weren’t sure. It probably helped that you now knew what he liked, as opposed to guessing randomly as you had been.

Possibly the most jarring change though, was that he’d suddenly dropped all honorifics a month after your tutoring sessions had resumed.

You’d been mid-sentence, busy asking him to specify a question, when he spoke over you.

“So here, question eight, it says that I need to explain the types of models used in software engineering, but it’s only for four marks, so would I list all four models, or would I list only two and explain each?”

You tap your pen against your lips in contemplation, waiting for an answer. After the silence lingers long enough to become awkward, you look up, towards Shigaraki.

“Um, should I repeat the question?” you ask, reaching towards him a moment later. “Shigaraki, are you okay–?”

His hand jumps up, grasping your wrist. His hand is cold today, and smooth too, and his palm is large, entirely encircling your wrist. He’d become comfortable around you, sometimes laying lingering, awkward touches on your back and arms.

“Tomura,” he says, still gripping your wrist too tightly.

“Huh?” you ask dumbly, blinking up at him.

“Call me Tomura from now on. There’s no point bothering with honorifics, it’s so old-fashioned.”

While his tone is disinterested, he turns his face away from you and you’re sure you see a flush of red creep up his neck and over his ears.

To say you’re confused would be an understatement, but you shake your head and clear your throat.

“Okay then. Well, Shiga– Tomura, could you help me with this question?”

“Sure,” he says, leaning in too close once again. You don’t mention it, shoving your feelings of discomfort down, locking them up to deal with at a later date – later, after you’d completed this wretched module.

“To be safe, I’d say list all four models and give a brief description of each. Go ahead, list them off.”

And that was that. From then on, the two of you had been on a first name basis.  

“Here,” you say, handing Shigaraki a bright blue can. “They had a new flavour that I thought you might like to try. I hope you like it.”

He stares at you wide-eyed, reaching out with a hesitant hand to take the can from you.

It confused you. He confused you. He acted all high and mighty, so full of pride before, but now he was all shaking hands and barely concealed blushes. What had happened, you weren’t sure, but you looked forward to the end of your arrangement.

But you did wonder, more often than you’d like to admit, where exactly that harsh, opinionated man from before had gone. He’d been so rude, so full of venom and rage, all aimed at you. Now, he was worse than a teenage boy.

You hoped that when the semester finally ended, you would never have to see or think about this class or Shigaraki ever again.

For now, you could play along, act sweetly, and pretend as if you didn’t mind his company. You didn’t think he was delusional enough to view the two of you as friends, but if that’s what it took to get you through to the end, then so be it.

****

“Our next session won’t be in the library.”

You freeze, pen halting over the page.

“What do you mean?” you ask after a beat, refusing to look at him.

“Aren’t you sick of this place already? I am, and I think a change of scenery would be nice. There’s this bar off-campus that we could go to.”

It isn’t a suggestion.

Shigaraki and his understanding of boundaries have changed over the last few weeks, more rapidly than you could keep track of.

So instead of arguing or sneering at him, or complaining about his complete lack of boundaries, you nod.

“Yeah, sure. That sounds nice,” you lie, though he doesn’t seem to notice or care, sitting back with a satisfied huff.

The bar he mentioned was the closest thing to abandoned you could possibly get. To say it looked run down would be an understatement.

Though when you step inside, against your better judgement, you find that the interior makes up for what the outside lacks.

It’s decadent, all dark stained wood and low lighting. There are a few patrons inside when you arrive, though they’re all tucked away in corners too dark to see in the low light.

You decide to mind your own business, walking intently towards a corner booth, nearly hidden from sight.

A part of you cursed yourself for agreeing to meet him in such an isolated area. Really, anything other than the university library was an isolated location.

But there was no backing out of it now, especially not with him sliding into the booth next to you, caging you in between himself and the wall.

And the look on his face –

Is he… Is he happy?

He must have been.

There was no other explanation, not with his shining eyes, loose, open body language, even the quirk of his lips. Instead of his usual cruel smirk, he sported a soft smile, a gentle lift of the corners of his lips.

If you didn’t know him personally, you might have thought he looked handsome at that moment.

“Hey,” he says, his voice breathless and light.

“Hi,” you reply, looking around while he stares at you. “Um, Tomura, how did you find out about this place? It seems a bit… out of the way.”

You try to put it as delicately as you can, intent on not upsetting him. Saying it looked like something out of a murder mystery or a crime scene didn’t seem like the best way to keep him in a good mood.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, my dad owns this place. Do you like it?”

There’s that look again, that hopeful, childlike look. You feel as though someone had dropped a weight in your stomach.

You felt uneasy, though you couldn’t place exactly why that was. He hadn’t said or done anything to warrant that kind of reaction. You chaste yourself, smiling at him as you respond.

“Yeah, um, it’s great. The inside is nice.”

“You think so? I like it too, and the outside makes sure that not too many people come inside, so it’s never too busy.”

His words don’t help your anxiety, but you shove it down and pull out a notebook.

“What are you doing?” he questions you.

“I’m getting ready for our study session?” you reply in a tone just as questioning as his own.

“Already?” he says with a disappointed look.

“We just got here, there’s plenty of time for that later. Here, take this, let’s have something to eat first.”

He shoves a menu your way, your protests falling on deaf ears.

“Come on, my treat.”

You hesitate a second longer before allowing your shoulders to slump, holding your hand out to accept the menu from his outstretched hand.

While you browse over the options, Shigaraki leans back in the booth, stretching his arms out so that they lay along the top of the seat while he surveys the area beyond the booth.

It makes you uneasy, the way he has you all but trapped next to him.

But you play it off, pretending to be focused on the menu instead.

A waiter comes around a few minutes later, taking your order with a bright smile. His smile seems forced when he looks at Shigaraki, his body language tense and nervous. You think it must be because Shigaraki’s father owns the bar.

You wonder, not for the first time, if this was how he was always treated by people who knew his father. Did they all look at him with fear? Surely some people had to admire him, or at least hold an amount of respect or even envy?

Perhaps that’s why he acted as he did. No one treated him normally, so maybe his sense of self-worth was what made him so insufferable.

A small part of you felt bad for him. It couldn’t have been easy having everyone handle you in such a careful, calculated manner.

Shigaraki pulls you out of your thoughts, nodding towards the menu.

“See anything you like?”

You shake your head, glancing back at the menu before choosing one of the more generic options on the list before setting it aside.

Hands folded on the tabletop; you try not to look him in the eye as silence fills the small gap between the two of you.

“You, uh- you look nice. That colour suits you,” he says to you, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

That makes you pause for a moment.

Now that you’re actually looking at him, you see he’s wearing an ironed long sleeve shirt and what appears to be a new pair of jeans. Not to mention, his hair looked fluffy, like a cloud, and his skin was pale and clear.

Your stomach drops.

Does… Does he think this is a date?

No, you laugh internally.

No, there’s no way. There’s no way. He probably has a date after this. Or maybe it’s not a date at all, maybe he just wanted to dress up, right?

You placate yourself with nonsensical excuses, forcing a smile as you thank him.

“Thanks Tomura, you look great too.”

He seems to take your compliment to heart, puffing his chest out slightly, straightening his posture and jutting his chin out. The change is barely noticeable, but he seems to have a different air about him, one of a more self-assured confidence.

As soon as he opens his mouth to speak, the waiter reappears to take your order.

While you’re thankful for the interruption, gladly calling for his attention, Shigaraki clearly doesn’t feel the same.

The look he gives the poor boy is venomous, and he scurries away as soon as he can.

“Could we get to the work now? I have a few questions from out last session,” you say to him, bringing your notes out once again.

He huffs in annoyance, grabbing the notes and your bag, to place them next to him – just outside the booth, and completely out of your reach.

“Relax, why’re you in such a rush? What, do you have plans after this or something?” he pouts, scowling slightly.

You sit there, staring at him. After a deep breath, one in which you try to bury your annoyance as best you can, you speak to him again.

“Tomura,” you say cautiously, “I’m not in a rush, it’s just… well, my final exam is coming up soon, so our time together is very important to me, and I’d like to make the most of it while I can. You understand that, don’t you?”

You felt a bit bad, playing on his feelings like that.

But no one could really blame you, could they? You never said outright that you liked spending time with him because the two of you were friends. Rather, you meant that his time with you as your tutor was important to you. Whether or not he understood it like that wasn’t really your concern. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

He seems to take it exactly how you thought he would, and he leans closer to you as he speaks.

“Yes,” he says, lower than you’d like, almost a purr, “Yes, I understand.”

He pauses, thinking over his words for a moment.

“In that case… Well, let’s not study today. Let’s leave that for next time. Breaks are as important as studying is, so why don’t we take a break today?”

He looks at you expectantly, unaware of your inner panic.

No no no no, that’s not what I meant!

You feel like screaming, but instead you hum and nod, fiddling with your fingers as he relaxes next to you.

Of course your plan backfired.

And you couldn’t correct him now, not without putting him into a terrible mood.

You’d become more accustomed to his moods than you’d like, but in a way, it had acted as your saving grace during these study sessions.

At least now you knew where his limit was, and how far you could push your luck before he got upset. Toeing that line was a stressful affair, but it was something you’d become surprisingly good at.

That was unfortunate.

Hours later, after you had several drinks, dinner, and dessert, all by Shigaraki’s insistences, you were home.

He had walked you right to your dorm, leaving only after you insisted that you would be fine getting to your room by yourself.

You’d taken a long, hot shower after that, numbing your mind and body so that you wouldn’t have to think about anything – not Shigaraki, not his friends, not your professors, Aizawa or Kurogiri, not your friends, not anything.

Crawling into bed, you prepare to pass out as soon as you head hits the pillow.

You realise as you fall asleep that the two of you really didn’t end up studying after all. The thought didn’t shock you as much as it should have.

****

You’d done it.

You’d actually passed your exam.

When it came time to check your results, you had been prepared for disappointment, for the big red F you were so used to seeing on your paper.

But instead, you were greeted with an A+ and a small, satisfied smile from your professor.

Relief had never felt so good.

It was a shame that Shigaraki had to ruin it for you.

Twenty minutes after you’d received your results, Shigaraki had messaged you, asking if you were able to meet him at a nearby café for a bit.

You sent him a slew of texts in response, asking why he wanted to meet so urgently, but your messages were ignored, and against your better judgement, you’d gone to meet up with him.

That led to your current predicament.

While Shigaraki was usually confident in his own kind of way, mean and proud, content to look down upon anyone who got too close, now, he looked like a completely different person. One you weren’t sure you recognised.

He sat in his chair, eyes wide, shocked plastered across his face for the world to see, mouth hanging agape. After you’d spoken, his shoulders and back had hunched over, as if he hoped to shield himself from you.

“What? What do you mean?” he says with heavy, laboured breaths.

“Shigaraki, I –”

“No!” he says, raising his voice to cut you off.

“No, you call me Tomura. Tomura, not Shigaraki.”

His tone is firm, but he’s still shaking, hands now reaching out to you.

“I’m sorry,” you say, taking a measured step back, “but I don’t think that’s appropriate. I– I appreciate your help, I really do, but we’re not…”

You take a deep breath and fix him with a hard look, steeling your nerves. You will yourself not to feel too badly about what you’re about to say. At least you aren’t being too mean about it.

“We’re not friends. You were my tutor, and you’ve done your job. Thank you. But we don’t have to see one another again. So please, stop contacting me.”

He’s shocked. He doesn’t respond to any of your words, still sitting, still staring. He does nothing as you stand, and he does nothing as you leave.

You don’t look back after you leave.

****

“You all packed?”

You nod, distracted, double checking all of your supplies. It was important that you had all of your supplies - you didn’t want to end up having to ask to borrow something belonging to someone else, and you couldn’t exactly go back home or stop by a convenience store to pick up whatever you needed.

“Oh my gosh,” Mina squeals, “I am so excited, I could barely sleep last night. This is going to be so much fun.”

You stand up and stretch.

For the first time in months, you felt as though you could actually breathe. The semester was finally over, and that meant that you never had to look at Shigaraki stupid face or listen to his stupid voice ever again.

A small part of you almost felt bad, but the feeling was easily extinguished when you realised that you would never have to see him or spend any amount of time with him again. The thought filled you with more relief than it should have.

Around you, your friends chatter about, all double checking their own supplies before loading them into the minivan the group of you had rented for the next two weeks.

Originally, you’d planned for a shorter four-day trip, with a group of five or six people, but apparently word had gotten around, and people were eager to come along.

You’d been forced to become selective with who you accepted, and in the end, you ended up with a group of twelve people - double what you had expected.

Of course, Bakugo, Kirishima, Sero, Jirou and Mina had accepted right off the bat, signing up before you’d even told them about the trip.

The others that you’d chosen were people you weren’t as shocked by as you could have been - after all, most of them occasionally joined your group on the smaller hikes you had every week.

Denki, Shinsou, Izuku, Shoto, Tokoyami, and Mirio. Hiking club regulars, when they had the time.

It was a shame that you couldn’t include more people, and it was even more upsetting that there were certain people who couldn’t make it.

You loved all of your friends, but being in such cramped quarters with so many men for as long as you would be - that was bound to get on your nerves. To say that you were thankful that Jirou and Mina had come along would be an understatement.

Rising with a groan, you lug your bag over to Kirishima and Mirio, dropping it down in a pile of other bags for them to organise in the bus.

“Thanks Kiri,” you say with a cheeky grin.

He rolls his eyes and scoffs, “Yeah, yeah, treat me like a slave, why don’t you.”

You pat him on the back and walk over to where Mina stands, conversing with Denki and Shinsou.

“Hey lover boys, how’s it going?” you ask, leaning back as Mina envelopes you in a hug.

Denki splutters and chokes out disagreements, pausing with a flushed face only when you and Mina burst out laughing.

“We are not ‘lover boys’,” Denki mutters under his breath, pouting like an angry child.

“Suure,” you say, throwing him a knowing look.

Shinsou rolls his eyes, though he turns away and leaves soon after that to hide his own laughter.

“I’m serious,” Denki exclaims, running his hand through his hair.

“Woah, calm down, I know.”

You pause, leaning in closer for a moment to whisper to him.

“You’ve got the hots for Jirou, don’t you?”

You didn’t think it was possible, the shade of red his face turned was reminiscent of a fire truck.

He looks everywhere but your face, adamantly avoiding eye contact.

“I-,” he coughs lightly, “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Your brain must be fried from all those tests. Ah, Kirishima looks like he needs help. Well, I’ll be leaving now.”

He runs off in a hurry as you and Mina break down into a fit of giggles, grasping at one another in a sorry attempt to stay standing.

“Hey, what was that about? Kaminari looked all hot and bothered.”

The two of you look up, and your small giggles turn to gasping laughter as you catch sight of Jirou, her brow furrowed in confusion as you and Mina lay breathlessly on the floor.

“N-Nothing! It’s nothing, we’re all good,” you say through spluttered gasps.

She shrugs and walks off, leaving the two of you to dust off.

Your large group departs soon after that, the lot of you piling into the minivan and setting off.

By the time you arrive, the sun is near its peak, and you’re all antsy, eager to get started.

Bakugo, the unspoken leader of your group, claps his hands twice to gain everyone’s attention.

“Okay people let’s get going. I hope you’ve all emptied your bladders, there won’t be any rest stops for a while.”

He pauses, looking around, his gaze stopping pointedly in your direction before you shake your head, and he continues.

“No? No one? Great, let’s go.”

****

It’s dumb. It’s so dumb.

It’s such a stupid, risky idea, but you do it anyway.

Kirishima, Jirou, Denki and Sero come with you, so it’s not that stupid, right?

Right?

Regardless, it’s too late to back out now.

The five of you dump your belongings on the bank next to the lake and shuffle out of your clothing, giggling all the while.

Once you’re all stripped down to your underwear, you sprint to the lake, Kirishima hauling you over his shoulder and running headlong into the now icy water.

You squeal and wriggle in his grip, trying and failing to hold him down beneath the water.

He plays along for a bit, pretending to splutter when he rises for air, before breaking out into a string of laughter with you.

Next to you, Denki splashes at Sero and Jirou, chasing them around as he flails his arms.

Your small group continues on like that for an hour and a half, splashing about, talking about how the year was, your plans for the next few months off, classes you wanted to take next year.

It was nice - peaceful. Exactly why you’d been looking forward to this trip so much.

Granted, Bakugo would probably blow a fuse if he found out that the five of you had snuck off in the dark without letting anyone know, but what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, right?

Besides, this was the final day of your trip, and despite your earlier reservations, everyone - namely Denki - had managed to behave themselves. You felt as though a bit of recklessness had been earned. And it wasn’t as if this was something you did regularly.

“Ah, I’m getting kinda cold. I think I’ll head back now,” you say to the remaining duo.

Sero and Kirishima had long since left, probably back to camp to convince Shinsou to join them in lighting up a joint.

Jirou and Denki called out to you as you waddled out of the water.

“Are you sure?”

“Do you want us to come with you?”

You wave them off as you pull on your shorts.

“I’ll be fine. Camp is like, barely a ten-minute walk away. You guys have fun.”

You finish dressing, crouching down to gather your shoes and bag.

“See you later,” you smile at them, throwing Denki a knowing look as you wave goodbye to the pair, making your way down the narrow, overgrown pathway back towards the campsite.

The sound of splashing and squeals of laughter follow you.

Barely five minutes later, you’re ambling down the path, mindful of the upturned roots while still enjoying the darkened scenery and fresh, crisp air.

While you didn’t go on hikes like this one often, it was something you enjoyed. Just getting away from civilisation for a bit always did wonders for your mind, and it made you appreciate the modern niceties you had back home.

You’re so lost in thought, you don’t hear the quiet snap of a branch next to you, nor do you see the shock of bright hair slowly stalking after you.

A thick tree root almost trips you up, and you stumble slightly before coming to a halt, laughing out loud in slight embarrassment.

“Geez, what a fucking klutz. Thank God no one saw that, they’d never let me live it down,” you mumble to yourself, placing your palm over your racing heart.

You huff out loudly before continuing on.

There’s a sound then, one that’s barely audible. It’s a small puff of air, almost like a scoff or a muffled laugh.

It’s so slight, so quiet, you almost don’t catch it.

But you do.

And stupidly, you turn around.

What did you expect, you think.

Maybe an animal? Maybe Denki or Sero trying to pull a prank? Maybe Jirou, coming to walk back with you despite your earlier protests?

It’s none of those things.

Eyes.

Red eyes.

They seem to glow in the low moonlight.

Your heart jumps, breath catching in your throat for a moment.

The two of you stand there for a moment, neither of you moving, neither of your breathing or even blinking.

Your shock wears off first, and you bolt as soon as he straightens up.

He’s right behind you, descending upon you like the grim reaper.

You run, pushing yourself to go faster, just a bit faster, but it’s not enough. You know it’s not enough. You felt it even before you’d started running.

A pathetic whimper breaks through your panting, and you feel your legs shake. From fear or exertion, you wonder.

You don’t try to weave through the trees, or veer back around to where Denki and Jirou were. Maybe if you’d had a clearer head, you could have come up with a better plan than just run. You didn’t - you couldn’t. You ran and ran and ran, even when it felt as though his outstretched fingertips brushed against the back of your neck, you ignored it and just kept running.

Soon, the campsite is within view, and you can see the slight flicker of the fire Todoroki had made hours earlier. You push yourself, willing your body past its limits, not stopping even when you feel like the relief makes your body sag.

Come on! You think to yourself as you let out a choked sob.

You’re so close, don’t stop, don’t slow down.

You’re a hair's breadth away from the treeline when two arms shoot out from the darkness behind you, one circling your waist, knocking what little air you’d had out of your lungs, the other coming around to cover your mouth. You don’t have any time to draw in a breath, to scream or even process what’s happening.

The cloth over your mouth and nose smells sickly sweet, and you’re too shocked, too out of breath from the sudden chase to think about holding your breath.

Before you lose consciousness, the last thing you see is the outline of several figures sitting around the fire, barely a hundred metres away from your place in the thick forest of trees.

You really wish you’d taken Denki and Jirou up on their offer.

****

The room you wake up in is dark, the collection of computer monitors against the opposite wall acting as the only light source.

It’s bright, and the sharp light hurts your head. You have to shut your eyes for a few moments to rid it of the slow pounding building up behind your eyes.

Your mouth is dry, and your limbs feel heavy. By all means, your condition is cause for panic. But strangely, your emotions feel muted.

The door opens with a silent woosh, and there’s a flood of brighter light from the corridor beyond.

You wince, turning your head away from the light.

It closes soon after that, and you hear slow, measured footsteps make their way closer to you before they stop.

The bed dips slightly, and you want to turn to see who waits behind you. You want to, but you don’t – you can’t. Your mind still feels hazy, unresponsive, but you’re aware enough to realise that you should be scared.

So, you don’t move, and you don’t open your eyes.

You lay there, still, silent, waiting with bated breath for whatever comes next.

There’s a hand on your shoulder, and then some pressure. You’re turning, being forced onto your back.

“Come on, open your eyes. I know you’re awake.”

That dry, raspy voice. It’s familiar in ways you wish you could forget.

You open your eyes.

He smiles.

Everything makes sense now, and the fog over your mind dissipates.

He’s still staring at you. He was always staring at you. Why?

“Shigaraki?” you rasp out, your throat aching.

His smile drops, eyes darkening as he leers at you from above.

“Tomura.”

“Wha-?”

“I hate it when you act like that. Call me Tomura, like you used to.”

You ignore his words, continuing despite the alarm bells blaring in your head.

“Where am I? What happened? I was with Kirishima and the others, and then I got separated, I think. Or maybe I left? I don’t remember.”

He doesn’t say a word, still staring, waiting.

Had he not heard you? You’re about to repeat yourself when he speaks again.

“Say my name. Say my name and I’ll answer your questions.”

“Shiga– Tomura,” you quickly correct yourself, the look on his face turning to one of cold, hard fury with your words.

“Tomura, sorry. Tomura,” you say, taking a deep breath, “please, I– what am I– what are we doing here? Where is ‘here’ anyway? I don’t remember anything and you’re really starting to freak me out.”

He calms down after you correct yourself, though only slightly. He shifts in place, fixing you with a look as he answers.

“What does that matter? You’re fine, so stop asking all these pointless questions.”

It felt as though you’d travelled back in time, back to when you’d first met him.

His attitude, his words, and mannerisms, they were all the exact same as they’d been originally, back when you’d openly admitted you couldn’t stand him.

Truthfully, you’d felt off from the moment you’d made eye contact with Shigaraki, a feeling of subtle fear boiling away in your gut, growing stronger with every passing moment. You tried to control your panic, but it was becoming difficult to hide it, and it was clear that Shigaraki saw it too, if the sour expression on his face was anything to go by.

“Where are my friends?” you ask, your voice surprisingly steady considering your mental state.

“They’re probably back at the university by now, I guess.”

He brushes off your question, shifting closer towards you with a strange look in his eyes.

“You… You didn’t mean all that, right? What you said before, I mean, about us not being friends and all that.”

His gaze is intense, but you feel yourself growing angry with his words.

“Is that what this is about? You got me alone to ask about that? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You roll your eyes, knocking his hand away from your shoulder, sitting up and shuffling further away from him.

“Listen, I don’t know what’s going through your head, but I meant what I said, and this is exactly why. You clearly don’t understand boundaries, and you throw the worst temper tantrums when you don’t get your way,” you say, raising your voice to cut him off when he opens his mouth with an indignant look to interject.

“No, you need to listen, I’m serious. This is weird - you’re weird. You need help – this isn’t normal. We’re not friends, and we never were. You were my tutor, and now you’re not. You have no reason to contact me, and frankly, I wouldn’t want to talk to you either way. I mean, I don’t think we’d be very good friends anyway, but that’s beside the point. And this? This is just too far. What kind of creep basically kidnaps someone just to talk to them?”

You finish your rant with a huff, breathing heavily. You nearly felt bad about getting so worked up, but he truly had freaked you out. You meant what you’d said about his lack of understanding when it came to your boundaries.

He sits unmoving before you, hands curled into tight fists on his lap.

“Say something,” you demand after a few moments.

He says nothing, still staring down at his lap. You reach for him, your hand grabbing his shoulder in a firm grip.

“Hey, say somethin–”

Smack!

You’re not facing him anymore. You’re not even upright. You lay sprawled across the bed, cheek burning painfully where he’d struck you.

He descends on you, flipping you onto your back and pinning you down when you begin thrashing around.

You whimper slightly, especially when you catch a glimpse of the cold fury on his face.

“You’re such a goddamn bitch,” he hisses, hunched over you with his face so close to your own that you can see each of his individual eyelashes, the small mole next to his mouth, the slight furrow of his eyebrows.

“Always whining and bitching and moaning. Fuck, I should’ve smacked the shit out of you earlier. Not so mouthy now, are you?” he says, grabbing your jaw and shaking your head from side to side.

“Let me go,” you say.

It sounds pathetic, even to your own ears, and he laughs cruelly in your face, lightly slapping your cheek as he coos down at you.

“Aw, are you not having fun? Are you scared? What a shame.”

He straightens up, cocking his head to the side.

“I’m too nice, considering how you’ve treated me. Here I am, planning to make you feel good, to make you happy, despite your bad attitude. You really should act more grateful.”

“What are you talking about?” you question, still filled with enough burning anger that you can ignore your fear.

“Huh? Well...” he trails off, running his hand over your chest, gently squeezing at your chest, “I think I’m owed this - after all, I’ve done so much for you. Don’t worry, it’ll feel good.”

He pauses, squeezing your waist tightly.

“To be completely honest with you,” he laughs breathlessly, “God, this is so embarrassing - fuck, I’ve thought about this since the first moment we met. You looked so cute, staring up at me with those eyes.”

He groans deeply, shutting his eyes for a moment.

“Ah fuck, you have no idea what you do to me, do you?”

You flinch back, curling away from him in disgust.

“There’s no way in hell I’ll let you touch me. You’re such a goddamn pervert - get off,” you say, thrashing around.

He keeps you pinned in place easily, and you might have been embarrassed, had the situation been different.

“Hey, stop moving so much. And don’t call me a pervert.”

You ignore him, bucking your hips to try and throw his body off of your own. It doesn’t work, and he stares at you in annoyance, huffing after a few minutes.

He grabs your shoulders and pushes them down. It’s painful and he knows it, sneering when your eyes scrunch up to stop the tears.

“Stop moving or I’ll tie you down,” he spits at you, and you flinch back as if he spews venom.

“I tried to do this the nice way, but you’ve been such a bitch about it,” he rants on, ignoring how you try to melt into the bed below.

“I was nice to you, wasn’t I? I smiled at you and talked all sweet. Hell, I even took you on a date. But no, nothing’s good enough for you.”

He pauses, shifting on top of you. Surprisingly, despite his seemingly slight frame, his weight is crushing, and you can barely breath as he lays on top of you.

“Well, I’m done being nice. Dabi and Hawks, my father, they were right – if I want something, I should take it. I’m going to take what I want, and you’re going to lay there and take it,” he tells you, his hand sliding down between your bodies to paw at your clothed cunt.

It was as if a fire had lit under you, and you renew your struggles once more, writhing and kicking beneath him, trying to buck him off of you.

You fail miserably, of course, only serving to upset him even more than you already had. He makes his anger clear, fitting his hand around the column of your neck, pining you in place so roughly that you can hardly draw in a breath.

He watches with an apathetic eye as you splutter and gasp beneath his grip, nails cutting into his skin harshly.

A thin trail of blood drips down the side of his hand and onto the pristine white bed sheets, and he watches with flat interest as his own blood stains it.

He grows tired of your struggles soon after that, moving his hand towards your jaw and dragging you forward to force your lips against his. It hurts, his teeth clashing against yours, drawing blood when he sinks his teeth into your bottom lip.

You whimper pathetically, still trying to pull away.

He pulls away only when the lack of oxygen forces him to, and he watches, panting, with a heavy-lidded gaze as you gasp for air.

“Please,” you whisper, one last attempt to get him to empathise with you.

“Please, don’t do this.”

He seems to think it over for a moment, but his contemplative look soon turns wicked, a nasty grin splitting his face, one like you’ve never seen before.

“I’ll do whatever I want.”

That seals your fate.

He lifts off of you slightly, only enough to rip your shirt down, stretching the material so that it lay scrunched up beneath your bra. He palms your tits through the fabric, roughly kneading them like stress balls.

Throughout that time, he had the same strange look on his face, one of intense focus. His brow furrowed slightly, and his mouth hung open as he stared down at your chest.

You lay there, stock still, breathing heavily. Despite your previously iron will, tears were quickly gathering in the corners of your eyes, and you couldn’t bring yourself to care enough to blink them away, so you let them stream silently down your temples.

Shigaraki looks up at you then and gives you what he must believe to be a reassuring smile.

It makes your stomach turn.

“Don’t worry. You’ll enjoy this too. I’ll–” he draws in a sharp breath, “I’ll try to be gentle.”

You’ll enjoy this too.

…enjoy this?

He’s delusional, you think, he has to be.

Surely there was no other explanation. There was no way he thought you’d actually enjoy what he was about to do to you. And his reassurance that he’d try to be gentle only made your panic that much worse.

But you know, deep down, that there was no getting out of this. Not when he had such a focused aura about him, and definitely not when you saw how violent he could become when you fought back. Or rather when you tried to.

So, mentally, you resigned yourself to your fate.

I’ll let him do what he wants. He’ll get it out of his system, and I’ll get to leave once he’s done. Just get it over and done with. Suck it up for a bit and deal with this later.

Your self-reassurance does little to comfort you, but you continue to lay there, silent and unmoving as Shigaraki moves to strip you of your shirt and bra.

“God, you have no idea how long I’ve waited for this. You’re so perfect, and you’re all mine.”

His words are possessive, mirroring his hands as they map the expanse of exposed skin, running up and down your sides. His palms, as usual, are smooth and cold, and they cover your skin with goosebumps wherever he touches you.

“Mine. Mine, mine, mine,” he mumbles under his breath as he takes your breasts into his large palms, breathing heavily. His pupils are blown wide, and he lets out a low moan when he squeezes your bare breasts, watching as your nipples harden in the cool air.

He leans forward, somewhat hesitantly, before prodding it with his tongue. His eyes jump to your face for a reaction, though you disappoint him when all he gets in return is a teary, fearful look.

Humming, he gently kisses your nipple before sucking it into his mouth.

The groan he lets out is pornographic, and it makes you wiggle in discomfort beneath him.

He seems to take that as a sign that you’re enjoying it, becoming more confident in his movements. His right hand moves to fondle your other breast, and you think that he must have never touched a woman before - not with the way he gropes your chest so painfully, as if he hopes to pin you down and tear you apart.

Eventually, after he’s had his fill of pawing at your chest, he pulls away, chin slick with his own saliva, breathing heavily and pupils blown wide.

“I can’t wait anymore.”

You say nothing, turning your head to the side and screwing your eyes shut.

He pays your misery no mind, shuffling down your body to strip you of your remaining clothing.

Once you’re completely bare, he takes a moment, one longer than you’d like, to appreciate the sight of you, naked and vulnerable beneath him.

He touches you, just once, his hands ghosting over your waist as he draws in a quick, sharp, staggered breath.

“I can’t believe you’re all mine,” he whispers to himself.

“I love you,” he says to you, his eyes filled with a sick, twisted adoration.

He wastes no more time after that, hurriedly ridding himself of his own clothing.

Once he’s bare above you, he grasps his cock in his hand, gently pumping the shaft while he stares at you, brows furrowed in pleasure.

You try your hardest not to look at him, at his cock, but his other hand shoots up to grab at your jaw, fingers digging painfully into skin and bone.

“Look at me.”

You do.

You avoid his face, instead staring directly at his chest.

He’s muscular, and so very pale. It almost looks as if he glows in the low light of the room.

The panes of his chest and stomach show exactly how strong he is. It was no wonder he hadn’t had a problem manhandling you. Muscles rippled under his skin, abs tensing with every slow pump of his cock.

He angles your face downwards so that you have no choice but to stare down at his obvious erection.

If you weren’t terrified before, you definitely were now.

He was massive.

Breaking your streak of silence, your eyes shoot up to meet with his as you plead with him.

“Please, that– you’ll never fit.”

Your face burns with embarrassment and you want nothing more than to turn away and bury your face in your hands.

But you don’t.

You can’t.

While you feel yourself cringe back at the words, they seem to amuse him. His eyes lighten and crinkle slightly at the corners, lips quirking at the corners.

“Don’t worry. It will.”

He pulls you towards himself by your hips, his large hands caressing your smooth skin.

“I’ll make it.”

His thumbs trace small circles on your hips.

Was he trying to comfort you, you wondered?

“No one else I’ve been with was as perfect as you are. None of them,” he tells you softly, his tone passionate and hard.

His words shock you. Both his demeanour and his attitude had made you think that he was a virgin. You would never have imagined that someone more… experienced would hold such a clumsy, carnal desire in their movements.

“I’ll be that for you, too. After I’m done with you, you won’t remember anyone else. Just me. Only me.”

Do I tell him? No… No, it’ll only make his ego worse.

You scoff lightly instead, covering up your fear with silent false confidence.

“Sure. If you say so.”

His gaze hardens and he digs his fingers into your hips, flexing them slightly before swiping them across your pelvis. His movements are slow and calculated, going back and forth, lower, and lower with each swipe, before he reaches your core.

Though his fingers barely brush over your clit, your hips jump forward, a knee jerk reaction to him touching the one part of yourself that you’d never let anyone else see or touch.

He laughs under his breath, watching your face intently.

“So sensitive,” he murmurs, now rubbing slow circles onto the bud.

Your hands fly up to your face, slapping over your mouth to stop the moan you nearly let loose. It comes out sounding strangled and whiny, barely audible at all.

He pulls his hand away abruptly, straightening up.

“Don’t. Don’t do that. I want to hear you.”

You shake your head from side to side, hands still clasped tightly over your mouth.

“Fine,” he sighs, “then I’ll do this the hard way.”

You would never have thought that Shigaraki would be the type to willingly pleasure anyone but himself, but as he lowers himself between your legs, softly nipping at the flesh of your thighs, you think that you might not know him as well as you believed.

Then again, you never thought that he’d be capable of something like this – kidnapping you, being so violent, assaulting you.

His breath is hot against your naked cunt, and heavy as he stares at the juncture between your legs with rapt attention. He shifts your thighs so that they lay over his shoulders, his palms sliding beneath your ass to prop you up slightly.

You want to beg him to stop. You want to scream and cry and hit him upside the head. But you never get the chance.

He descends, his tongue hot and wet where it meets your slit.

Your eyes scrunch up when he moans into your cunt, mumbling about how good you taste.

It seemed as though the taste of you had set something off within him, and he plunged back down to lose himself between your legs.

Despite how violated you felt, his earlier ministrations had gotten you all worked up and sensitive, and you had trouble staying still while he had his way with you.

He alternated between long swipes against your slit and short, harsh nips at your clit. A part of you felt as if he was doing it to punish you for your so-called ‘wrongdoings’, though you told yourself that that was probably just how he acted.

The grip he has on your hips loosens for a moment before he hauls you closer towards him, sliding one of his hands down to join his mouth between your legs.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect. So, so perfect,” he mumbles against your cunt, gently working a long, slender finger into your dripping cunt.

By now your moans are undisguisable, especially when they echo out in the room. They’re the only audible noise besides the slurping sounds Shigaraki lets out and his own groans and mumbles against the wet smack of your cunt.

When he adds a second and then a third finger, you nearly cry.

Out of pain or pleasure, you aren’t sure. Maybe panic.

He chuckles at your moaned garbles, cooing at you from his place between your legs.

“Yeah, that’s it. Come on, come on.”

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, taking you completely off guard. You hadn’t felt anywhere near ready, and it steals the air from your lungs, leaving you a shaking, gasping mess beneath him.

He leaves his place between your legs with one last loving kiss to your clit, laughing when you twitch.

“See, you enjoyed that, didn’t you?”

You ignore his question, trying instead to calm your rapid breathing.

His hand, still covered in a disgusting mixture of your slick and his saliva, pumps up and down his cock.

It’s as pale as the rest of him, and his cockhead had turned a strange shade of red, so dark it almost looked purple.

He catches you staring, snorting at your terrified expression.

“Don’t look so worried,” he says, grasping your thighs, easily widening them so that he could sit comfortably.

“I’ll go slow. Promise.”

With that, he guides his tip towards your entrance, pressing softly into you.

Your eyes bulge slightly as your panic comes to a peak.

“No! Please don’t do this. Please!”

You had reached for his hand while you begged him, but he grabbed your hand as soon as you got near him, crushing it in his grip, ignoring the pained yelp you let out.

He huffs out, nostrils flaring in anger.

“How many times do I have to tell you; this is happening whether you want it to or not. So stop struggling,” he says, pushing your shoulders to get you to lay back down.

“Please, you don’t understand, I’m- I-”

You pause, breathing laboured and strained.

The two of you sit in complete silence, Shigaraki staring at you while stare at the wall opposite the bed. The last thing you wanted was to make eye contact now of all times.

His fingertips find your chin, gently prying your gaze away from the wall and back to his face.

“Are you a virgin?” he asks, so, so quietly, as if it was a curse word.

You nod silently, hesitantly.

A part of you hoped that he’d decide not to go through with it. It was a stupid hope, one that you hadn’t put too much faith in. But that small kernel of hope was still there all the same.

So it stung when, instead of climbing off of you, his face widened into the most vile grin you’ve ever seen.

A choked sob tears its way out of your throat as he leans forward again.

“Really? That’s… I- See? I knew you didn’t mean it,” he stutters as he caresses your face.

“You saved yourself for me. Me. I- Thank you. I won’t disappoint you; I promise. I’ll be your first and last.”

His delusion made you sick, and if you could, you would have gouged his eyes out.

But you’re given no more time to linger on his words as he begins pushing his hips forward.

He was true to his word, at least - going as slowly as he could. He really was trying not to hurt you.

Too bad it wasn’t working.

He pushed in as far as he could before meeting resistance. He tried to get you to loosen up, to relax, he really did.

But he was no saint, and he only had so much patience.

His palm covered the side of your face, thumb rubbing calming circles over your cheek as you cried out, trying to soothe you as he pummelled his cock through your walls.

Soon, you feel the head of his cock nudge at your cervix.

You’re relieved - he’s done, right? He’s touched - violated - every part of you that he could reach. He was done, he had to be.

Except he was still pushing forward, into you, through you.

You let out a strangled cry, blubbering, begging him to stop.

And he does.

He’s panting, all but gasping for breath as he hunches over you, shoulders shaking slightly.

“I’m - oh fuck -  I’m going to move now,” he says, voice strained.

The only response you give is a whimper.

It hurts.

It hurts, until it doesn’t. Until the painful throbbing, the uncomfortable stretch, turns into waves of pleasure, short zings of ecstasy that start from where your bodies meet.

The sounds that fill the room are filthy, and the atmosphere is stifling.

A harsh pap pap pap sound coming from between your bodies, Shigaraki’s groans - his whimpers, your own whiny moans; they all mesh together, drowning out your thoughts.

Shigaraki pauses for a moment, and you think for a split second that he may have been done with you, but then he’s lifting your legs, throwing them over his shoulders, pushing down, into you, and-

“Fuuck.”

The two of you moan in unison.

Shigaraki glances down and lets out a soft exclamation of surprise.

You glance down too.

He starts up slowly again, locking your head into place with his arms, making you watch the small bump from underneath your stomach move with each thrust.

Is that…?

It is.

The imprint of his dick, visible through your stomach.

You whimper again, but somehow, it's not as pained of a sound as you had expected.

His hand slides between your bodies, coming to rest lightly over the bump, feeling himself through you.

“Holy shit, that’s so hot - here.”

He grabs one of your hands, bringing it down, making you feel his cock as it moves inside you.

Your mouth drops open, but his hand leaves yours there, moving lower and lower, until he reaches your clit.

“Come on, cum for me pretty girl,” he mumbles to you, sweat now dripping down his face.

Your eyes roll back as he rubs steady, harsh circles onto your clit. Your hand remains where he left it, feeling the slight jab of his cock with every thrust.

It doesn’t take him long after that, he has you cumming on his cock in minutes.

You hope that he’s done - he must have cum too, right? You hadn’t felt anything, but he must be done now.

He leans back, but pushes your legs down further, pinning them next to your head so that you’re completely folded in half.

“Now it’s my turn,” he says, biting his lip as he stares at you with a heavy-lidded gaze.

You’d thought his pace was harsh before, but that was nothing compared to the way he brutally pounded into you now.

Grasping the sheets next to your head to ground yourself, you feel your body slide up and down the bed, hear the headboard slam against the wall with each thrust.

By now you’re gasping for breath - it feels like his cock is in your lungs, and a glance down shows that his pubes - light blue and curly - are soaked in a mixture of cum and other liquids, both yours and his.

Not only that, but his cock, the massive cock you’d been so terrified of earlier, was completely buried inside of you, to the very hilt, his balls slapping against your ass with every thrust.

He hits a spot deep inside you, one that has you seeing stars, and you throw your head back with a moan as he abuses that sensitive spot.

You should ask him to slow down - you should demand that he stops all together, but you can barely string together a coherent sentence.

Thankfully, he seems to be reaching his own end, massaging your clit as he mumbles to himself.

“...with me - you have to cum with me. Cum. Come on, do it.”

You do.

Your exhausted body wrings out yet another orgasm, twitching pathetically as his hips stutter and you feel warmth flood your insides.

He flops down on top of you, smothering you under his weight. He lays like that for a while, panting, shoving his face into the crook of your neck as his breathing evens out and his cock softens inside of you.

Eventually, when the heat becomes almost unbearable, he rolls off of you, his cock pulling out of you with a nasty plop sound.

You feel empty.

Empty and cold.

He’s still laying there, eyes on the ceiling.

You sit up and shuffle to the end of the bed, still in a daze.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” he asks, propping himself up on one arm to watch you.

“I’m going home,” you mumble, looking around the room. “Where are my clothes?”

He snickers at that, sitting up straight to watch you flit around the room, picking up your discarded clothing, putting items on as you find them.

Underwear, check. Bra, check. Shorts, check.

“You think you’re going home? Don’t be ridiculous.”

You freeze, not turning to face him, shirt still clutched tightly in your hands.

Clearing your throat, you ask him, “W- What do you mean?”

“What do you mean ‘what do I mean’?"

He moves, coming to sit at the edge of the bed.

“Do you really think I went through all that trouble for a quick fuck?”

It’s a rhetorical question, you know it is, but-

“I’m not staying here. I want to go home. Now.”

“No,” he says, finally standing and approaching you.

“I’m not asking. I’m leaving. You got what you wanted, so there’s no reason for me to stay.”

He scoffs, glaring at you.

“‘Got what I wanted?’ Don’t play dumb, you know exactly what I want. Like I said, one quick fuck does nothing for me - I went through all that effort to get your attention, then even more to get you - you’re not going anywhere. You’re staying right here, with me.”

You don’t bother trying to put your shirt on, instead running straight for the door.

He curses as he stops to throw on a pair of shorts, trying to catch up to you as you sprint down corridor after corridor in search of an exit.

This time, you had a good head start against him, so you made it further than you had in the forest.

But of course, nothing ever went your way.

You run down several flights of stairs, coming out in what appears to be a large living room, several massive couches filling the space.

Couches and people.

No, not people - his friends.

You don’t pause though, still sprinting through the space.

Shigaraki yells out and you’re stopped abruptly in your tracks.

Standing in front of you with that stupid fucking smirk is Dabi.

“Man, you’ve got to learn to train your pets. They’ll keep running away if you don’t.”

That smug motherfucker.

“Nice tits babe.”

Your arms fly up to cover your chest as Shigaraki runs up behind you, panting and out of breath, clothed only in a dark pair of boxer briefs - blue and decorated with cartoon dinosaurs.

His hair is a mess, and his face is all red and sweaty. But besides that, he looks pissed.

The grip he has on your forearm is painful.

“Mind your own business,” he hisses at Dabi.

He holds his hands up in mock surrender.

“Woah woah woah, just trying to help - isn’t that right guys?”

The group of people seated on the couches all look away, not making eye contact with anyone in the small group. You don’t recognise any of them.

“Fuck off. And you,” he addresses you, a crazed look in his eyes.

“You’re fucking dead.”

He drags you back to his room.

No one comes to help you.

****

You sit with Shigaraki, watching the news on the huge TV in his lounge.

“Police and locals alike are searching for a young woman reported missing several months ago after a university hiking trip near Mount Natagumo.”

There’s a picture now, one of you and your friends, taken on the day you left for your trip.

It’s grainy and some people are blurry, but you’re all smiling widely, and you’re circled with a bright red line.

“The young woman in question was last seen on the 24th of July at around 2 a.m. Japanese Standard Time, in the Okurama region of the area, about 200 kilometres south of Mount Fujikasane, on the border of Mount Natagumo, according to the Okurama local police. Her sudden disappearance has shocked many of the local residents, many of whom -”

The screen goes black.

Your ears ring in the silence and you try your best to school your features, keeping your face neutral.

“Damn it, why won’t they just drop it already?” Shigaraki mutters next to you, running his hand through his hair in frustration.

He lets out a deep groan, throwing his arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer to his side before shoving his face into the crook of your neck. He inhales loudly, sighing briefly before he continues.

“You wouldn’t leave me, right? They’re being ridiculous. I really thought they would have given up by now, it’s been months,” he pauses, squinting up at you.

“Ugh, this is so annoying. If this goes on for any longer, I’ll have to ask my father to take care of it.”

You’re still stiff next to him. You should answer him soon, you know, but you can’t bring yourself to muster up the energy, or to think of the words he wants to hear. You can’t even lift your hand to pet his hair.

Placating him was exhausting, but you’d done a good enough job over the past few months.

Today though - today you were just so tired.

“Don’t worry,” he says, sitting up straight and pulling you into his lap. “They won’t find you. I’ll make sure they don’t.”

“They might.”

He stops.

“What?”

“They might find me. I hope they do.”

He pushes your hair to the side, covering your neck with soft, wet kisses as he laughs breathlessly.

“You won’t leave me,” he mumbles against your neck.

You’ve stopped wondering about if he thinks that makes you feel better.

He said it to get a rise out of you, and he sighs in annoyance when you remain tense and still in his lap. His hands grip at your waist, fingers flexing every few moments.

“Even if they find out it was me, you won’t leave this place. You won’t leave my side. Never.”

His hold on your waist remains steady as he stands up.

“Well, come on. That ruined my mood, why don’t you make it up to me?”

He’s not asking.

The two of you walk to his room - Shigaraki Tomura chattering all the while, you, holding back tears.

You’re so tired.

You won’t leave my side.

Never.

That sounded more accurate than you’d like.

[nonobadcat]

For @oklolnoty

Down the Rabbit Hole - Five Chapters - 20k words - Yandere Shigaraki Tomura x Rabbit Quirk Female Reader

Rating: 18+ readers only - Minors DNI

Whole story TW: Noncon, yandere with kidnapping, severe quirk based discrimination, binge drinking, canon typical threats of violence (reader directed), canon typical death (nonreader directed), oral (give/receive), PnV (doggie), breeding, and expensive designer clothing everywhere.

Summary:

Working at Animal Instinct, the city's premiere hostess club for those who like their girls "pawsitively" attractive, may pay the bills but it'll cost your soul. Playing the brainless bunny girl everyone expected you to be, you were prepared to waste your life selling over priced champagne and sham companionship just to afford rent. When your efforts are rewarded with the client from hell, you try to stick to your bubblegum bimbo persona. However, being called boring by some crusty incel with the social skills of a trashcan is not something your pride can let slip by. ...and finding someone who hates society's games as much as him is not something Shigaraki Tomura can let go.

Chapter Navigation: 1|2|3|4|5 🐇 Ao3 Mirror

Chapter 1: Dumb Bunny - 3.4k words

TW: Binge drinking, quirk based discrimination

“Omigosh he’s back again!”

Plastered against the glossy black bathroom door, Nyanko’s twisted grimace and bristling tail ill suited her glamorous styling. Rhinestone trimmed claws pawed for purchase as an annoyed shriek hissed between tight teeth. It was fortunate that lilac satin squeezed her willowy frame like a vice. The very dress that transformed her bust line from “average” to “savage” restricted her air intake, keeping her whining to a polite volume.

Twisting the golden cap of your Yves Saint Laurent lipstain back on, you dabbed at your cupid’s bow. “Crusty boy?”

“Yes!” She groaned, pinning her cat ears to her skull. “Mama-san has paired him with twelve different girls in the last month. Boy’s got a heart made of Teflon! Won’t stick to anyone!”

You raised an eyebrow. “I thought this club was a kurabu? Isn’t the first pairing long term?”

“His dad is some sort of big deal so he gets special treatment, but mostly it's a mutual hate-hate thing,” Nyanko explained, wagging her finger. “He can’t find a girl he likes and all the girls beg Mama-san to let him try someone else. Even Aru didn’t want him and you know she has thick skin!”

“Quirk~ist,” you sang out, tucking your make-up back in the small, pearled handbag. “Just because she has an armadillo quirk doesn’t mean her soul is armor plated.”

Nyanko’s tabby tail swished. “Why does he keep coming back if he’s never happy?” she demanded, stomping her spike heels.

“I like those.” You nodded to the red bottoms. “The flower lace on the mesh is cute.”

“I know, right!” She twisted this way and that, showing off the shimmering details. “Abe-san got them for me last week. I think he has a foot thing but I’m not complaining.” All at once, her hair bristled. “Wait! Don’t try to change the subject! I’m in a real bind here!”

You popped your lips, smoothing down a stray lock of hair. “Oh? Why?”

“Because I’m one of the few he hasn’t chewed up yet!” She shivered and rubbed her arms. “I’m terrified Mama-san will pair me with that creep next!”

“Then quit your job and take Abe-san up on that mistress position. It’s not like he can last more than twenty seconds anyways so you won’t have to do much work.”

Her face fell flat. “Honey, hell’s got your name.”

You kicked off the faux marble tile and strutted over to the petite, raven-haired cutie. A single finger reached out, straightening the curl of her long bob. Patting her shoulder, you flashed her a grin and whispered in her ear. “Then it’s a good thing none of us go by our real names here, isn’t it?” 

She giggled before rolling her eyes towards your new lip color. “Speaking of 'people who just want to take a poor girl away from this place', is that a gift from your one hero client?”

You nodded. “Oshida bought it for me on the paid date. Asked me if he could put some of his cum in it.”

“Guess he’s not as family friendly as his press agent makes him out to be,” she muttered.

“I told him I couldn’t use it if he did because I’d be too addicted to the taste.”

Nyanko flashed you a judgey side eye and pushed open the bathroom door. “How are you that good a liar?”

“Nyanko, what are you talking about?" You plastered on an airy smile. Each word tumbled out wrapped in sweetness. "Everyone knows that bunny girls aren’t smart enough to lie. ♡” 

The words burned bitterly on your tongue.

Nyanko huffed, turning on heel. “I hate you.”

“Hate you more, sweetie,” you teased, following her down the long hall.

Pink tiles with golden veins lead the way to the reception desk. On your right, Animal Instict's main bar buzzed with flirtatious conversation, fake smiles, and exhausted salary men. One of the puppy girls, wrapped in cherry red spandex and ten centimeter black platforms, clung to her elderly client's arm like a fly on garbage. 

"Is Pochi back early from her paid date?" You asked, slipping under the glossy countertop.

"Kiba-san's bunions are acting up," Nyanko whispered, cupping the side of her face. "You know, the bunions that flare up when Pochi wants a fourth helping of foie gras."

You looked the other hostess up and down. Her rosy cheeks glowed as she smoothed her glossy tail across her lap. "She's pounding the champagne again. Her heat cycle must be close."

Nyanko waved her hand. "Don't date the dog if you ain't got the bank."

"Catty of you."

She hissed.

"Ladies," a firm voice warned. "You are on the floor."

You both turned towards a sultry middle-aged woman. Clad in a cocktail dress crafted from delicate golden mesh and rhinestones, her long, peacock plumage glittered every shade from sea green to deep navy in the warm light. She fixed you with a sharp glare before snapping open a fan. Its fluttering teased at her long, fake lashes.

"Yes, Mama-san," you replied in synchrony, bowing your heads to the boss.

She narrowed her eyes, craning her long, graceful neck to inspect your makeup. When it passed muster, she snapped the fan shut. "Honey, Tano-san requested you tonight as Usagi is out with a migraine."

Wow… just going to work his way through the bunny girls, huh? Guy wasn’t even subtle about his fetish.

"Of course," you agreed, bowing again. "Thank you, Mama-san."

Mama-san turned her scrutinizing gaze towards your companion. “Nyanko—” she crooked boney finger— “come with me.”

Nyanko’s ears drooped. “Y-yes, Mama-san…”

Mama-san rapped the cat girl with the lacey fan. “Professionalism.”

Nyanko forced a pained grin before snatching up a hot towel from the stack. “O-Of course!”

You shook your head, selecting a rolled towel of your own and placed it on a silver platter. Then, smearing on an airheaded smile, you followed the leader around the large, gangly money tree. Just past its scraggly leaves, two men came into view.

On the left, dressed in a deep navy sport coat and matching pleated pants stood a solemn faced man in his late sixties. He peered into the entryway’s mirror, fussing with his thinning, silver streaked hair. The wide, rose-gold rolex watch made his wrist look fat and did horrible things for his yellow undertones. When you came into view, he jerked away from his preening. Hungry eyes traced the line of your leg from heel to hem. His thick tongue lapped at the corner of his mouth.

“Tano-san,” your boss guiding you forward. “This is Honey Bunny.”

“It's so good to meet you, Tano-san!” You added a sugar rush bounce to your step. “We hope Usa-chan should feel better soon. I hope it’ll be okay if I take care of you for her until she’s better?”

With a grunt, he took the towel, clumsily groping your fingers along the way.

Mama-san turned to the man on the right. Hiding his face behind a mop of pale blue waves, a surly looking twenty something hunched against the wall. Blazing red eyes stared out from under hairless brows. He tugged at his collar, as if the beautifully tailored Armani three-piece was strangling him. It wasn’t hard to guess how he got the moniker “crusty boy”. Patchy scale peeled from his under eye bags. 

“Shigaraki-san, this is Nyanko-chan.”

Nyanko playfully scratched the air, before speaking out in a voice half an octave higher than her own. “It’s a purr-asure to Meow-chu, Shigaraki-san! I hope we can become good friends!”

He sneered at Nyanko before raking his neck with ratty, broken nails. 

Your coworker smiled so hard you thought her face might tear. “Would mew like a hot towel?”

He plucked the moist terry cloth from her outstretched hand with two fingers. He half-heartedly scrubbed his hands before walking right past her. “Let’s get this over with.”

Nyanko’s tail drooped as she skittered off after her guest. You pressed a coy hand to your lips to hide a grimace.

This was going to be a long night.

One hour into the evening, you would have paid Usa-chan to take her client back. 

At first, you thought Tano simply fumbled his cigarettes due to some nervous condition. However, after the third one in half an hour, you caught beady eyes peering down the front of your dress as you leaned in to light them. He ordered nothing but the cheapest wine on the menu (2.6k yen per glass + the 25% service fee) and nursed his drink like an old woman. Those squirmy hands of his kept “accidentally” brushing against your tail every time he shifted in his seat. Conversation was hard fought and mostly about how much he hated his boss. 

“Are you and Usa-chan related?” he asked for the fifth time that night.

You brushed your long, silky ears back. “Well, I’m a Lop and she’s a Lionhead.”

“Oh. So it’s not the same thing?”

If you smiled any harder your teeth would crack. “I know, right? They sound so similar I always get them confused.” You hoisted the green bottle up. “Here, it looks like you need a refill—”

He quickly covered the glass with his palm. “Let me touch your ears?”

Rot in the gutter, you steaming trash heap.

Hesitant humming accompanied a thoughtful head tilt. “Mama-san kinda sorta told me I’m not supposed to because it’s against club rules or something.” You clicked your tongue and beamed at him. “Makes me sad because I love having my hair brushed. Oh well, right?”

He scooted closer. “You could just ignore her.”

Wide, panicked eyes sold the frantic, high pitched squeak. “Omigosh! But it’d be bad to do that right?”

Rancid breath poured over your bare neck. “I can make being a bad bunny really fun.”

Die.

You laughed, “playfully” shoving his shoulder so hard it pushed him a solid half meter away.  “Oh Tano-san! No wonder Usa-chan loves you so much. You’re so funny!”

…and wringing your floppy neck with your ugly Gucchi tie would be even funnier.

On the other side of the tufted leather booths, Nyanko seemed to fare even worse. 

“So… Shigaraki-san, do you work for your paw-ther?”

“He’s my mentor, not my father.”

“Oh! That’s so neat! So he’s like a father to mew?”

One word grated through gritted teeth. “No.”

Nyanko winced at the harsh tone, her smile shaken for only a moment before she rallied. “Your mentor must be very generous to send you here so Meow-ften.”

“It’s annoying,” he groused, scratching his neck like a dog with fleas. The pungent stench of iron caught on the breeze from the air conditioning. All the women around you wrinkled their sensitive noses.

“It doesn’t have to be.” Nyanko placed one hand on the cream leather next to his thigh and leaned in. A long golden necklace slipped down her décolletage, pointing the eye towards her assets. Pouty lips forced her tongue high against her fangs, playing up an alto’s vocal fry. Delicately, she twirled her hair behind her pointed ear. Dangling diamonds glittered in the dim glow of the teardrop chandelier. Round, golden eyes peered at him from under sooty lashes. “Neh, Shigaraki-san, what kind of girl do mew like?”

The booth squeaked as he scooted away. “Someone real.”

“I’m all nyan-tural,” she purred, letting her free hand trail down her bust.

With a sharp “chcc”, he groped for his cell phone. 

Nyanko cocked her head. “Oh? Nyu like video games?”

“A little,” he muttered, loading up an app. Comic book style red and yellow text exploded across the screen. Four different voices called out: “Hero Center Battle Royale!!!!”.

“Ooooh!” She clapped her hands together. “Which ones do mew like?”

“The ones where the heroes die.”

“Sounds exciting!”

“More exciting than this conversation.”

Fight on, Nyanko-chan!

While your coworker clawed for any hint of mutual interest, Tano leaned back into his seat and manspread until he was pressed against your bare thigh. “Seems like the pretty kitty is having a rough time.”

Awk-ward….

“Really?” You smiled so hard the muscles below your eyes spasmed. “It sounds like she’s having fun learning a lot about a new person to me.”

Face flushed, your patron sipped his wine. “You’re kinda a dumb bunny, aren’t you?”

Yeah… That’s what your university professors thought too. At least, until your grades put you second in your class by only three points. Maybe if they stopped staring at your ears long enough, they would have seen the brain between them.

“Nyanko-chan loves to meet new people,” you chirped back, sitting on quivering hands to avoid throttling your meal ticket.

Tano thumbed his chin. “Wonder if she’s so persistent because she’s gonna go into heat.”

Ew… can you just not?!

"That must be a pain, going into heat.” Beady eyes flashed to you. "You do too, right?"

Gross. Disengage! Disengage!

You tapped your chin. "Huh… I dunno. Maybe bunnies are different or something." 

…cause a three second Google search couldn't have told his horny self that?! Seriously…

Faking a sweet smile you reached for his glass. “Heat or no heat, I think that connecting with others is a reward in and of itself."

And if Tano could connect the dots he would have the decency to GO HOME if he wasn’t going to drink.

He pulled his cup away. "I don't need a refill."

You set the bottle down. "Oh! My bad! I just really wanted to take care of you. You worked really hard after all. You deserve a little rest."

He leaned back into his seat and smiled to himself. "Yeah. Guess I do."

Ugh… Just drunk enough to be a self-centered douchebag, but not enough to get you a sales bonus. This sucked.

He cracked open one eye and glanced at you. "But seriously, aren’t you even a little worried about her or are you just too stupid that to read the room?”

You leaned into your palm, using the thick of your hand to stifle the snarl. “Finding the right fit for every guest can be hard but everyone here loves the challenge.” One ear flopped across your eye. You inhaled, letting the rise of your ribs strain the bust of your gown. “I’m just so glad we have such good chemistry.”

His greasy grin made you nauseated. Greedy eyes drank up your coworker’s long tail and tufted ears. He licked his lips. “Should I offer to save her then? Having two of you around sounds like fun.”

….and entirely defeated the point of coming to the type of classy club where you are supposed to have an intimate, one-on-one conversation with your hostess. Not to mention, you’d have to split the tip. Then again, that assumed this cheapskate didn’t skip it all together.

You bit your cheek until the taste of iron pricked your tongue. Painted lips slipped into a puffy pout. You turned your head, letting tears pool at your lash line. Ducking low to play up the shadows between your cleavage, you pinched his sleeve between two fingers like a schoolgirl tugging on her crush.

“Ah… I suppose it’s true that Tano-san is so cool he could have two women at once.” 

His breath caught in his wrinkled throat.

With a forlorn smile, you glanced down at the connection between you before dropping his sleeve like it shocked you. Your voice pitched high as you hurried out a breathless apology. “Oh! Sorry!” Nervous fingers prodded together as you hid behind one ear. “When I am around a man like you, I-I sometimes just get these instincts...” 

He gulped.

Time to go in for the kill. 

Your eyes danced away from his. “It’s been such a long time since I felt this way, I forgot that it happens. It’s hard, but I’ll try to control myself better.”

Tano reached for your hand, but you pulled it away to bop it into your fist. “Oh! Speaking of instincts, Usa-chan told me once that you negotiated a lot of big contracts for your company. How did you get so good at your job?”

He leaned back into the booth, puffing out his chest. Wrapping one arm over the back of the chair, he crooked his finger at you. “Come a little closer and I’ll be happy to share.”

Ugh… You needed a drink.

“Oh my gosh, Honey-chan he was just the worst!”

Nyanko’s whiskers tickled the side of your neck as she buried her face in your shoulder. You sighed, wrapping your arm around her. The smell of fried food and beer wafted in the summer air. Plump moths collided with the streetlight three paces away. Two wobbly salary men waved. The one wearing a tie on his forehead blew a wet kiss. Your party of three wiggled your fingers and giggled like shy school girls. As soon as they were out of sight, the smiles dropped like corpses on a battlefield.

You patted Nyanko’s shoulder. “There, there. You did what you could.”

She sniffled, fanning her flushed face. You passed her a tissue. She dabbed at her make-up. Flecks of mascara peeled onto pale paper. Another sob wracked her body. “WHAT DOES HE WANT!?” she wailed.

“Seriously,” Pochi scratched her dangling ears. “Mama-san gave him to me last week. He told me ‘your skills need a level up’. What does that even mean?!” She swished her silky black tail. “Let’s see his mummy lips pull three champagne towers in one night!”

“Three? Were you in heat?”

She sneered wide enough to flash her canines. “I faked it.”

You laughed. “Hot, but scary Pochi-sama.”

She jerked a thumb over her shoulder, motioning to Nyanko’s limp body. “Blame Little Miss Crafty Kitten there. For 30,000 yen, she gave me a run down on my tells and I did my make-up and perfume to mimic them. Worth every penny.”

Nyanko’s blank eyes stared at nothing. “I am a good hostess. I am a good hostess. I am a good hostess.”

You gave her a long side eye. “You charged 30,000 yen for that?”

A shaking hand rose into the air. She clenched her thumb and index finger into a ring.

“And I’m the one going to hell?” you teased, handing her off to Pochi. “Here. I forgot something at the club. You two get going before the last train leaves. I’m close enough to walk.”

“Whatever,” Pochi groaned, hugging the crying cat to her chest. “Come on Nyanko. You had too much to drink.”

With a gentle wave, you watched them as they staggered down the sidewalk leaving only Nyanko's miserable whining in their wake. When the last sob slipped into silence, the false feelings melted from your expression. Every hair on your neck bristled. A hard heel thumped on the pavement. Fists clenched to your side, you dashed off into the nearest alleyway. Wrenching off your expensive pumps, you set them on the ground out of reach. Your vision swam blood red, you zeroed in on the filthy dumpster. All at once, a frustrated shriek tore through the night air.

"SCREW YOOOOOUUUUU!”

You slammed your heel down into the dumpster, leaving a dent in the rust.

"SCREW YOU! SCREW THIS JOB! SCREW EVERYTHING!”

Blow after blow rained down on the innocent trash receptacle. 

"DUMB BUNNY MY COTTON FLUFFY TAIL! I HAVE MORE BRAIN CELLS IN MY MANICURE THAN YOU HAVE IN YOUR ENTIRE FAMILY TREE!

Twisted metal groaned under the weight of your fury. Memories of fresh-from-college job interviews flashed through your mind.

"I don't know that you're a good fit for our culture." "You seem really nice but we're only looking for serious candidates." "Oh…. I have another position you can interview for, sweetie."

Judgey stares and smarmy grins seared your brain. Lava hot rage bubbled through your veins as you kicked the dumpster five centimeters off its axis.

"I'D THREATEN TO RAZE THIS WHOLE SOCIETY BUT NONE OF YOU IDIOTS ARE EVEN SMART ENOUGH TO KNOW THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN RAZE AND RAISE!"

Panting and raspy, you heaved for air in the middle of the pavement. With a final huff you tossed your hair, hiked up your purse, and strutted away.

At the end of the alley, bloodshot scarlet eyes were watching your entire tantrum. Just below them, a ghostly white smile glinted in the flickering amber light.

Next Chapter Expected: June 30th, 2023

Expected Completion Date: Mid-Aug 2023

Chapter Navigation: 1|2|3|4|5🐇 Ao3 Mirror

Taglist: @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love @shig-a-shig-ah @castershellwrites @smilinghowever @krystalwithakay @iris-goddess @ss-syche @mortallysparklyfun @meameows @magnificentclodpiezonk @betterfettered @utena-akashiya @ventdavi154 @st4rrust @imaginedheroine @the-lady-writes-what @shiggysimp69 @toughbook @naughteehee

[ghostsy]

Midas Touch

WARNINGS: yandere, possessiveness, manipulation, implied abuse, non-consensual implications, toxic relationship, unreliable narrator

read at your own discretion.

yandere ! SHIGARAKI TOMURA X READER

“I’m sorry.”

“No talking,” Her lips twisted, but still she kept her gaze towards the setting sun, “Please. No talking, please.”

“Okay,” He sighed, and a heavy feeling settled on his heart, “No talking.”

He figured it less of a wish for silence, and more a fear of what she would say if she allowed herself to speak. A fear of what he would do if the words strayed from the script he’d given her who knows how many days or months or years ago.

He supposed he couldn’t blame her, but the thought still left a bitter taste in his mouth, tongue itching against his teeth, desperate to bridge the gap between them.

But he swallowed the urge, and settled for staring instead. She never said he couldn’t stare, and though she drew her knees closer to her chest, she didn’t reprimand him. Wouldn’t. 

And try as he might, he couldn’t tear his eyes from her profile; how regal it was, the warm golden glow of the setting sun surrounding them, though, seeming only to grace her with its light. Orange gleamed against her skin, eyes shimmering as flecks of yellow danced along the waterline.

The shine that crept at the edges of her lashes followed the sharp curve of her nose, and like strokes of a painting, it swept across her cheekbones.

A soft wind blew through her hair, rose-gold glimmering between the gaps of the swaying strands, and coloring the ends in a brilliant kind of orange-red. Kind of like a halo, he thought.

And then he caught sight of it, and the weight in his chest cracked his ribs. 

It was an ugly sort of blue-green, distracting from the warm light that would have made her look altogether angelic. Would have. But the purpling fingerprints–five, to be exact–stained the sides of her throat, and he felt like screaming.

But she asked him not to speak. And so he wouldn’t. Sew his mouth shut until she deemed it worthy enough to open. Perhaps that was the solution; it seemed that words only ever hurt the both of them. Her, not you.

Once upon a time, he thought she was something made only for him. A shiny toy he could touch and hold and squeeze. A toy that wouldn’t break. 

He realized, in time, however, that he had never known how to take care of his toys as a child. Long before they’d turn to dust, he’d never handled anything as delicate, as soft, as pretty.

But she wasn’t a toy. And, though she couldn’t shatter under his touch, she could break. Scream and cry and beg while he took and took and took. Whatever momentary pleasure he’d stolen from her dissolving in the darkness of the aftermath. The bruises. The blood. The tears.

He sent her a silent apology; she may not have been made for him, but she had made him something. Took what broken nothing he knew he was, and warmed the dead and blackened coal in his chest until it set aflame cradled between hands soft as silk.

He hadn’t anything else to grasp onto–literally or otherwise–that could keep him from falling to pieces himself. He was selfish, he knew, but it was moments like these–moments whose frequency he could no longer count–where he felt guilty. 

It had become a pattern. Whatever anger or hatred or resentment he felt towards the world became a burden for her to bear. He naively, cruelly, thought her responsible for keeping his own shadows in check. Use her golden touch, give that bright smile he hadn’t seen in who knows how long, save him with her stolen radiance. 

Only to realize time and time again that shadows were greedy, creeping and growing, laughing as they devoured the light, licking desperately at their fangs for more to rip, more to tear. More to destroy. 

And after his shadows had smothered her light, he’d work his way to forgiveness by finally letting her breathe, consciously or otherwise, believing it enough to erase the indiscretions of his own darkness. Give that snuffed out golden flame a little breeze to reignite the fire.

It was a pattern of which he was painfully aware. Still, it was a lesson that never seemed to stick, and he was reminded of their current predicament.

In the distance, the sun fell beneath the horizon, its glow swallowed up by the edge of the earth. The cityscape was less alive for it, fluorescent yellow-blues filling the glass spaces, too bright neons flickering on.

His focus was pulled back to her as a sigh left her lips. The pink-orange glimmer had left her now, and the blue film of the night had tinted her skin. 

How fitting. 

The weight on his heart settled, and burning disgust used the heavy bones as kindling. He wished the fire to turn him to ash from the inside out, but found it to be yet another selfish desire. She had no need for graying ashes. 

Though, following the discolorations that surely trailed further and deeper onto the canvas of her skin hidden from view–had she any use for him?

He hadn’t noticed he’d started crying until the brush of fingertips traced along the back of his hand, rubbing fallen tears from his knuckles. Turning, he watched as she reached beside her, where his palm lay flat against the roof, pulling his fingers into her own.

As he scanned her, face still turned away, he realized that the bruises blended in with the twilight. Even without the sun, even covered in shadow, she was beautiful. With her hand in his own, soothing at the skin with her thumb, and the evidence of his indiscretion fading with the darkening sky, he found himself finally able to breathe.

He looked to their interlocked fingers, grip turning fierce, desperate. Trying to convey all the words unspoken. She didn’t protest, opting instead to squeeze at his hand in some sort of placation, forgiveness, and he remembered exactly why they needed each other. Why they loved each other.

Maybe this time would be different. She didn’t need to keep the shadows at bay if she joined him in the darkness. He’d dragged her there too many times for her to keep her shine. But there were still stars in the night sky. She’d still shine, in a different way than before, but it was enough.

He didn’t need her golden. This was fine. This time things could be different. Would be.

He smiled, sighing, letting his own self-loathing melt away with the misty clouds now eaten up by blended purple-blues. And though she wasn’t looking, as if his thoughts were loud enough for her to hear, to listen, her own lips parted as a reminder. Though, the words had lost their edge.

“No talking.” 

“Right,” He breathed, “No talking.”

I’m sorry.

[shiggysimp69]

The Watcher

I haven't written anything in such a long time so forgive the weird formatting and switch in tense. This story is kinda half poem half story because the first part follows poem rules while the second does not. Sorry if it's confusing.

Tw: Stalking, noncon, violence, paranoia.

You have an unknown stalker.

——————————————————————

Something's there. In the corner of your eye. It's there. It's watching. It's waiting.

It's there when you sleep. It's there when you wake. It's there every minute of every day.

At first you ignored it. But now it can't be ignored. It's steadily there, watching your every move. You can't sleep, you can't eat. Sometimes you can't even move. Every breath you take is full of never ending tension.

Now you are the one watching. Looking over your shoulder, setting up security cameras in your house, just for them to mysteriously malfunction, and begging your friends to walk you home. Then making seemingly innocent sleepover plans just so you could actually get some sleep at night.

You very quickly became more than just paranoid. You were terrified. Terrified of something you hadn't even seen. You had no clue what was lurking over your shoulder, you just knew that your time was limited. It was coming. And it wanted you. Oh it wanted you more than anything else in the world. Pure insatiable hunger.

It was growing impatient. And somehow, you both knew. You both, knew... You both knew when it would happen. You just didn't know why it would happen. You didn't know why any of this was happening.

The next night, you were crying. And it knew. It could taste your tears, your fear. It was like death itself was looming over you. Suffocating you. You were so sick of being scared. Of being tired. Of being helpless. Of being weak… You were weak. At the complete mercy of this unknown force that just swooped in and started controlling your life. You were merely a pawn in its hands. You just hoped that you were expendable. That, that thing would get bored and finally, finally go away. Freeing you from your invisible shackles. You begged for this to end. And yet, nothing. Not until it was too late.

You were pulling an all nighter again. Checking your security footage, triple checking your doors and windows, and of course, having the emergency service number open in case something happened. Though, it seemed like the only emergency that would be happening would be you passing out from exhaustion and fatigue.

The night was calm and the air was still. It wasn't too hot or too cold. Everything was, fine. Just fine. So fine in fact, that you felt yourself dozing off. The weight on your shoulders let up and your posture softened. That's when you realized just how tired you actually were.

For a moment, you were at peace. With your body full of tranquility. You were free…

But that must have been some kind of a sick joke because immediately afterwards you were wrenched up from your seat by the neck. Two hands tightly gripped you from behind leaving you no time to think. You frantically clawed at them, gasping for air. It was time. And you weren't ready for it. But it was ready for you.

It pressed its face against yours, licking a long streak up the side of your cheek. Utter disgust filled your senses. You tried to fight back but it was too strong. Air escaped your lungs as salty tears formed in the corners of your eyes. Your ears started ringing and you thought this would be your end as you started to black out. It got you. It kept heaving in your ear. You couldn't hear it, but you could feel it. The hot puffs of air hitting your face. You didn't wanna die.

Oxygen. You could feel oxygen in your lungs again. You coughed hard. As if there was something stuck in your throat, you coughed and coughed and coughed. The ringing didn't stop and you felt weak, but you could breathe. Footsteps slowly approached your hunched over form. You were on the ground now. You couldn't remember when it happened or how it happened but you were now on your hands and knees after just sitting at your desk. Your whole body was shook to its core. It felt like your very bones had goosebumps. Suddenly, your head was yanked up to look at your stalker. It was crouched down in front of you. The "it" actually being a man. A very young looking man. He softly caressed your face then tilted his head. He paused and made a quiet hum as he tilted his head to the other side. Then he smiled. It seemed like he was giving you a genuine smile but it felt nothing like one. A pit formed in your stomach at the sight of it. He chuckled and it echoed throughout the room.

"You look like shit. Well, I guess that's to be expected when you've been staying up all night, every night."

He laughed again.

"But don't worry. I still find you attractive."

He whispered the last part, sending shivers down your spine. You tried to speak but the only thing that came out was a raspy whisper before you started coughing again. He clicked his tongue, letting go of your face.

"Aww. What were you trying to tell me? To fuck off? To eat shit and die? Or…" He paused, then stood up.

"Were you gonna beg for your life?"

There was a sadistic lust wrapped in his words that seeped out into your skin. You hated it. You hated him.

"Hmm? Which one is it? Talk pet."

You could feel his eyes burrowing into you. Pet? Who did he think he was? You were a person, just like him. Not a little puppy dog on a leash. You looked up, and spat in his face. He stopped for a moment, surprised by your reaction. But it didn't last long because in one swift movement he grabbed the collar of your shirt and yanked you to your feet. You could fully see his face now. It was scarred and wrinkles surrounded his crimson eyes. His facial expression was one you couldn't read. In his eyes, nothing but furry was behind them and yet, he was smiling. A wide, twisted grin. Was he happy or mad? You couldn't tell. You watched in shock as he licked your spit off his face. Not bothering to do anything about the stuff he couldn't reach. Then he leaned into your ear.

"You must feel real powerful after that, huh?"

He chuckled.

"Well… I'm glad."

He quickly shoved you to the ground. Gravelly laughter filled the room as he unbuttoned his pants. You looked up at him in fear. The same fear you'd felt all afternoon. The same. Exact. Fear. From each and every day you spent fighting for your life. Your freedom. Your sanity. It just happened to be for a different reason. A reason that was entirely your fault. He was mad. And maybe it would've been different if you'd just played along. Death would've been better than this. And you'd die on that hill.

"I was planning on waiting for this but it seems like you need to be taught a lesson. Don't you think?"

You trembled, starting to scoot away from him. It would take too long to turn around and then get up and run away. You'd easily be caught. But with his cock now fully in view you didn't care. You had to try. You whipped around and tried to stand but then suddenly collapsed. The lack of oxygen from earlier had affected your head more than you thought and that sudden movement was the last straw. You could hear him laughing again. He decided to use your new position to his advantage, pulling you up on to your hands and knees then wrapping his arms around your waist.

"I wanna show you something." He heaved near your ear and you squirmed under his touch.

"Look down at your legs."

You compiled being completely out of options. He removed one of his hands and touched your shorts with all five of his fingers. Right before your eyes they turned into nothing but dust. That was it for you. Not only could he easily overpower you but he could also simply kill you with one touch. This was hopeless.

"I hope you learned something." He chuckled.

"Ah… what pretty panties you have."

He slowly toyed with the hem of your garment before sliding them down your thighs.

"I won't destroy these. What a waste that would be, right?"

You nodded. A feeling of numbness coursed through your body.

"Heh, it seems like you're coming around, huh."

You could feel him smile against the back of your neck. He licked it afterwards.

"We're gonna have so much fun together. So. Much. Fun."

——————————————————————

Writing requests are open!

[tomura-complex]

Babysitter or something more? Part 2

Part 1

I’m sorry it took so long, but I’m back with another part! I hope you will like it and enjoy it. I wish you nice reading &lt;3

Many weeks flew by… I visited Shouta and babysat Eri few more times. But something changed… I have never seen Tenko again. Last time I was at Shouta’s house, he quickly got inside and ran to his room, and then he locked himself up. No greeting, nothing. I felt kind of bad for him. Maybe I scared him. Was I ruder than I should be. “Ten leaves his room almost every night. I always hear him opening the window. And after a long while, he comes back.” Eri mumbled, when we were reading last time.

Her words are stuck in my mind. Last three weeks I didn’t have much time thanks to school, so I didn’t see Shouta and Eri often. Last night… I heard something strange. Something like rustling behind my bedroom window. But it was probably just cat or something. My eyes slowly closed. Last few nights I had trouble with sleeping. I was still hearing something. But tonight, it didn’t take long to fall asleep. Warm breath brushed over my face. I slowly opened my eyes and feel cold breeze and a click. A click of my window. I stood up and look at my window. My heart is beating out of my chest. This isn’t real, I’m just dreaming. I dragged into my kitchen and poured some fresh water. Then I saw something. Little red light in the corner of my kitchen. I stepped to it and looked at it. Wait. I turn on the light and saw a small black box. That’s… that’s a camera. How. How did it get there? I took it off and went back to sleep.

--next week--

Those weird things keep happening. I feel like I’m paranoid and overreacting, but this is too much. I feel like someone is watching me. I found camera in every room, even straight in the shower!  I can’t really sleep. I’m scared that someone will come inside through my window. I even bought lock for every window and my door. Buzzing of my phone snapped me out of the madness.

‘Hi Y/n, I’m sorry, but I really need your help today. We have a lot of work at UA and I need to work overtime today. Could you please look after Eri? I would be really happy if you did so.’ Oh. Maybe spending time with Eri could help me. I answered Shouta a yes and walked out of my apartment. I need to get out.

I helped Eri with her homework and cleaned the kitchen and the living room. “Why are you still shaking? It’s warm here.” Eri mumbled and held my hoodie. “Sorry sweetheart… I think I’m getting sick, so I’m feeling cold.” I smiled at her. Then she beamed. “Ten has a heavy blanket in his room! He wouldn’t mind if you borrowed it.” She beamed and ran to his room. He is still at uni. Maybe… I could borrow it for a little while? I walked right behind her and walked inside his room. It is… a big room full of mess and trash. There is a lot of kitchenware, clothes and emptied cans. I stepped nest to Eri and she handed me the blanket. I thanked her and threw it over me. It feels so warm. We then walked down and I handed her a colouring book. I cuddled into the blanket and watched her. The blanket… feels so warm. And. It smells so nice. I accidentally fell asleep in the warm embrace.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Someone yelled and waked me up. Then they yanked the blanket off me and I fell down. I opened my eyes and shoot up. “Ten! That was rude!” Eri shouted. I rubbed my eyes and turn around. It’s him. He... has changed… “Why didn’t dad let me look after you? Wait. You were in my room? What did I tell you about it?” He shouted. I felt how Eri clenched my hoodie sleeve. I gritted my teeth. “It is your little sister. She wanted to help me. To make me feel better.” I slowly stood up. “You should apologise to her. You’re her older brother.” I grumbled. He looked into my eyes and huffed. Then he turned away and walked into his room. I growled. “Give me one minute.” I smiled at Eri and quietly walked to his room. I politely knocked on his door. Then I entered his room. “Tenko, I’m sorry, but… Eri just wanted to help me-“

My kitchen. My bedroom. My bathroom. My shower. My… my bedroom from another angle. Everything was on the screen. On the screen of his computer. I felt frozen in the place. My heart was in my throat. He... I looked at him terrified. He had an expression of a surprised little innocent boy. He stood up and walked to me. In a glimpse, his expression changed into something even worse. I had sudden urge to empty my stomach… my heart. I ran into the bathroom and fell to my knees. I felt him raise my hair. “Don’t ruin your beautiful hair.” He whispered. After a minute the urge finally stopped. My throat is sore and itching. I hate puking so much. He handed me a glass of water and a towel. I sat down and drank. Then I dried my lips. My whole body is shaking and I feel like I’m freezing. “Ten? What’s wrong with Y/n-chan?” Eri squeaked. I looked at her. “I’m sorry sweetie, but... I don’t feel really well.” “Let’s dress up and walk Y/n home, what do you think? She needs to rest.” Tenko mentioned and Eri started bouncing. “Yes!” She squeaked and ran to dress up. Tenko hold my hands, but I smacked him. I stood up and slowly walked downstairs. I need to get out. Get out of everything. I grabbed my bag, but Tenko smacked my hand and took it from me. “Don’t overdo it.” He grinned. I… I’m scared of him… Eri ran to me and grabbed my hand. I smiled at her and went outside. We slowly walked to my apartment. Of course, that Tenko knows where it is. I grabbed my keys. “Can we go inside? We will make you some tea… Reassure that you have everything…” Tenko mused. “No.” I snapped. Then I saw how Eri got sad. I squatted to her. “I’m sorry sweetie. I will go, so you won’t be sick.” I smiled at her and went inside. As soon as I could I locked myself inside. I panted heavily. My legs trembled. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit! This is not good. I look at one of the cameras and gulped. This is not good. I started ripping every camera of and breaking it. It was him. The whole time. It was only and only him. Why did I feel close to him? I was so dumb, oh my god. I took a warm shower and made some tea. Then I looked at the last camera in my bedroom. I feel so dizzy. This is bad. I gulped and stood back up. Why is everything spinning? I took a chair and stood on it. This is really bad. Don’t tell me… don’t tell me that there was something in the water. I rubbed my eyes and looked into the camera. “I hate you.” I whispered and ripped the camera of the wall. I stepped down and quickly grabbed the bed. Everything is spinning. My eyes closed and my body gave up, falling to the ground.

-- two days later--

“Good morning sweetheart. You’re finally awake.” I slowly opened my eyes to… him. I jerked up and looked at him. What is. What. “You weren’t answering the phone more than two days. I was worried. Even my dad was calling you.” He smiled. Then he pulled his blanket up to my face. “You have fever and cough. You drained your body. I bought you medicaments and instant soup. You need something warm. And I will tell Eri and dad that you’re alright. Bye.” He whispered and kissed my hand. He then stood up and looked at me. Then he turned my back to me. “I’m not watching you. Not from now on.” He whispered and walked out of my apartment. Then I heard him locking my apartment’s door. My eyes feel heavy again and the blanket smelled nice I closed my eyes and drifted back to sleep and fever dreams.

A/N: Woah. I didn't expect that this would turn out this way! And I think you didn't expect it too ;> Now I wil try and write another part of this mini serie. And I think that would be the last part. (but maybe not ;>) And I hope you will stick with me still another part!

and thank you for your support, it means a lot to me and it always makes my day! &lt;3

Part 3

[metranart]

— HAWKS + DABI + BAKUGO + SHIGARAKI || THINGS THIS LOVESICK BOYS SAY WHEN IN BED WITH YOU

-----------HEADCANONS-----------

HAWKS

“Oh, my darling...fuck, keep doing that.” 

“You're so beautiful, I'm so glad we found each other.”

“I know I’m a mess-… what else was I supposed to do while waiting to make you mine?” 

“Lay back and let me do all the work. I’ve dreamed of eating your pretty pussy all week.”

“Hey, don’t shy away from me. C’mere-”

“You’re so fuckin’ soft. Shiiit…”

“Hey—no teasing the feathers.”

“I n-need to-... I just-…-I’m going to start moving now.”

“Arms around my neck and legs around my hips— ngh! Gravity is a bitch, I don’t want you falling on me, at least, not literally.”

“What a good mate, you respond to me so well."

“I’m so fuckin’ deep, my pretty girl-”

“Fuck—I can’t... I’m not gonna last-”

“Don’t be embarrassed. I love when you squirt on my face.”

“God I’ve wanted this for so long. I’m going to breed your pussy every day, all day long, even after I’ve knocked you up.”

“We're both getting older, babe, and if we want to have more chicks than stars in the sky, then we need to get started.”

“Tell me you love me-… tell me again.”

“I do get ahead of myself often, but I can’t help it. I just know we belong together-” 

“What do you say we try for a baby this time?”

"You’d be adorable, so swollen and full that you can't walk, that you'd have to rely on me for everything...”

“Touch yourself, c’mon. Let me see how you play the right notes.”

“You're going to be a wonderful mother for my chicks.”

“Let me help you move pretty, put your hands on mine.”

“No one’s gonna hear if I put my hand here… no biting, hun.”

“I’ll make it quick, darling... just—let me… let me go again.”

“Need a hand or a finger?”

“Just wait, baby... Fuuuuck—give me a damn minute.”

“Keep your eyes on me.”

“Arch your back, there you go, such a good girl.”

“Fuck, even after cumming you aren’t ready to accommodate my size. Don’t worry, baby,” he kisses your creased forehead, “—then just the tip this time.”

“Shit, I can’t help it—” you can feel him twitching excitedly inside you. “I just like you so damn much!” He grunts and snaps his hips again, diving deeper. 

“Just bear with me, I swear I’ll eat you for hours after…. Please, pretty, pleaseeeee…” He kept his pace, practically purring with his throaty groans. 

“No matter how much you didn’t want to admit it, I know how to fuck you well, ain’t I, beautiful?” 

“C’mon let me hear you, I can feel you getting tighter… my cock’s rubbing those hard-to-reach places…. Fuck! I- slid in so easily.”

“I’m painfully close-…. Fuck, I don’t want to cum yet…”

 “Is this your sweet spot I’m bullying?” 

“Each thrust is inching you closer… should I slow down or go faster?”

“Deeper? Okey-… just try to keep it together, I have neighbors.” 

“Give me one more. please, just one more baby.”

“Try to keep your eyes open, I know it’s hard…b-but try for me beautiful.”

“Go ahead and sleep, honey, I’m not going anywhere.”

NSFW ART OF THIS HEADCANONS IN MY PATREON

DABI

“What’d I did to deserve such a pretty thing like ya?”

“I’ve barely touch you. You really that hot for me, sweetheart?”

“Open your legs, not gonna say it again.”

“Doesn’t hurt, its already scarred skin.”

“If I have to kiss your tears away again, you are gonna get it— I’ve already told ya, it doesn’t hurt anymore-”

“Bury your hands in my hair, yes... Just like that.”

“Stop pushing me away. You’re gonna take it all, don’t make me shove it down your throat.”

“You love to play the feeble act, but your moans give you away, princess.”

“Nuh-uh, you haven’t cum yet.”

“I said ass up.”

“You want it so bad? beg.”

“Take them off before I rip them off of you, doll. Don’t try me.”

“Harder,” he mutters, not a minute after you started. “Harder,” he demands again.

“Could you go any slower? Ride me like you mean it, princess. I know you can.”

“Can barely feel that shit. You gotta do better than that, princess. You know I like it rough.”

“Fuck,” he bit out. “Yes, fuck…. Just like that.”

“Come on pretty girl. Ride me till you’re numb, yeah? Want you to fuck yourself stupid on my cock today.”

“Move my hands again and see what happens-”

“Fuck—” 

“Sorry, baby-… I just had to jump at the opportunity to sink my cock deeper.”

“Sit on it.”

“Worried it won’t fit? We always make it work just fine—”

“I don’t have condoms, they’re annoying.” He grunts the reply, inwardly absorbed with impatience. 

“Don’t move—Just gimme a minute… F-Fuck…”

“You fuckin’ genius, dammit, I love you so damn much! Not even I knew that spot— …” He shakes his head, in disbelief of the pleasure, even more so that you been the one to give it to him.

“Did you do that on purpose, princess? ‘cause now we are doing it every time.” 

“Fuck that. Don’t know if you heard sweetheart, but you were made for me to fuck and breed.”

“Stop it, no more whining—I’ll do my best to be…. gentler.” 

“Really? resist me all you want. I know you love being treated like this.”

“Ridiculous, I could stare at your pretty cunt all day long.” 

“Fuck Yeah! I adore the way your thighs tremble like jelly after you cum.”

“Should I pull out? Nah, better give me a daughter to spoil.”

“Unless you were playing with yourself before I got here, I’m guessing this is because of my pretty face?”

“Over my knee, now.”

“Sure, I love ya— but you are not in charge here, princess. Fuckin’ spread them for me.”

“Want me to spank that pussy? lay on my lap then-”

“One’s never enough, I know my princess’s pussy and its begging for another.”

NSFW ART OF THIS HEADCANONS IN MY PATREON

BAKUGO (NSFW art teaser here!)

“Do you want me to fuck you harder, cutie?”

“You can be loud, I love to hear you, (Y/N).”

“I’ve waited so long for this...”

“That’s it... slow and easy—” 

“How much longer you gonna make me wait, baby?”

“You ever take it raw? Get a big load of cum in your pussy? —don’t shy on me, I know you love when I talk dirty to you.”

“Take it off before I tear it off.”

“Baby... please...I hate to beg-”

“Make me wait much longer and I’ll have to fuck you in an alley somewhere.”

“What a naughty little girl I have just to myself.”

“Ugh, so hot and wet.” 

“I said I wanted to eat your pussy, didn’t I? Just sit back and enjoy it, baby girl.”

“I’d hate to stop teasing you right before the fun part.”

“It’s so warm...”

“Who do you belong to?” 

 “Whose pussy is this? Say who you belong to.”

“God, what a good fucking cunt. It keeps clenching on my cock like it’s hungry for more milk. You want that? You want me to fill you up?”

“As you wish, princess.”

“You gonna cum?” 

“Go on, gorgeous. Cum on Daddy’s cock.”

“Fucking take it... take every drop...” 

“Nice and stuffed... all mine... my little slutty girl...”

“I said spread those fuckin’ folds.”

“So wet and tight, but my cock just slides right in. It’s like you were born to take me inside of your cunt.”

“Aren’t you a sight. All blissed out when we aren’t even done.”

“That’s right, darlin’. You didn’t think you could tease me for so long and get away with just one little fuck, did you?”

“Oh, did you think we were finished?”

“Did I stutter or somethin’?”

“Alright, baby girl, you asked for it. Just don’t come crying to me if you can’t move after I’m done with you.”

“Don’t move—Just a sec… F-Fuck…”

“No, this is-this is fine. This is beyond fine. Keep doing it, please.”

“Shit, darling, don’t-” 

“God, you make me so needy. Please.... fuck, please...”

“You feel so wonderful, I might go crazy—"

“More... please, more...”

“Fuck, I’m stretching you so good.”

“God, the thought of you ever doing something like this to anyone else... I can’t stand it.”

“I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again. You’re my precious BABY, now and forever."

NSFW ART OF THIS HEADCANONS IN MY PATREON

SHIGARAKI

“It isn’t even a ‘might’. I can tell you right now with the utmost certainty that you are MINE.”

“Keep looking into my eyes, don’t you fuckin’ look away…”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head,” He coos in a demeaning tone. “I’ll be your first and your last. Not any of these other NPCs.”

“I can hardly keep my hands to myself, your room or mine.”

“I can do whatever I want to you, I’m player one!”

“I know, I’m keeping track of my digits, don’t worry your pretty head.”

“You are too precious to me to turn to dust, my love.”

“I can’t- I’m dying to breed you, to bury my cock in your wet pussy. Don’t move, I don’t want to hurt you, sweetheart.”

“My pants are uncomfortably tight, the fabric’s straining against my throbbing dick, I told you not to put on that dress, dammit” Shigaraki’s practically scratching at the wooden table, surges of arousal shaking him to his core. “Can we go now? Like right NOW?!”

“MY girl, so pretty and needy for my cock.”

“You want him dead. You got it.” Ruby eyes stare through his bangs up at your face in some sort of silent promise. “—Of course, I will. You are my everything.”

“It hurts. I need you to- FUCK, just like that.”

“Fuck, how-how are you this fucking wet and warm inside, fuck, fuck…!”

“Please fuck me.”

“H-hey, I know a fun game we can play together… It’s called ‘how many times can I make you cum all over my cock?’” 

“One point, five points, ten points—Cumming again? Are you shooting for a new high-score, sweetheart?”

“Now... care if I use my mouth on you?”

“Just be good for me, and I’ll take very, very good care of you.”

"Look at you, so worked up over a few couple of fingers, did you miss me that much, sweetheart?" 

“Just looking at you is enough to, oh fuck, drive me wild.”

"So desperate for my cock to stuff you-say it, say you want my cock—ngh!”

"S-Shit,"

"Needy girl, I'll let you have it, be fucking grateful." 

"What? Fainting on me already?"

"Don't let me see you doing this again, or else."

“Just fuck me. I need you, (Y/N), please. Please just fuck bury on me already...! I want it...! I want YOU..!”

“Have it your way then.”

"Keep licking my balls, oh fuck! I’m gonna die—"

"Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-!"

“You look so pretty choking on my cock.”

“Where do you want it, baby? Mouth, breast, face, pussy… take your pick-”

"Are you close, sweetie?" 

“My feisty little girl. Aren’t you just adorable?”

"Good girl. Give me a minute and I’ll clean up that mess you made." 

“Cum for me. Cum on my cock and show me that you’re mine.”

“I just... wanted to cuddle a little more, is all. Didn’t want to... you know, waste the moment.”

“Don’t you worry, my love. I’ll be sure to give you anything you could ever want and more.” 

“You don’t have to take me all the way into your esophagus, but I expect you to make me cum, and yes, I do want you to swallow.”

“Go on, get on your knees.”

“Ngh, that’s it, keep going...”

“You look so wonderful like this, with your lips wrapped around my cock. I wish I could take a pic for Dabi to swallow his words.” 

“I want you all to myself.”

“H-here it comes...Be sure... to drink... every.. last... drop...YOU ARE FUCKIN’ MINE!!”

I MADE SOME SICK NSFW ART FOR THIS HEADCANONS, YOU CAN CHECK THEM OUT IN MY PATREON. (Along with more MHA nsfw artwork)

[yanderenightmare]

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

Shigaraki Tomura

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

gn reader

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

 He balances a red book atop your crown.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You're scaring him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don't you love me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes. I love you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But I still have to leave.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

♡ SHIGARAKI TOMURA ♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist

[0asisbliss]

It was cute at first. It’s all about the nice dates, hugs, and kisses until you wake up with him hovering over you with a knife in his hand, and he’s covered in blood. Murmuring how much he loves you. Wanting to feel you in every way. Your not even worried about who’s blood he’s covered in, but your worried about getting away from him. Even when you’re in his basement quivering with fear. The thought never leaves your mind. You must get out.

Gojo, Geto, Choso, Sukuna, (JJK) Chrollo, FEITAN, Nobunaga, Phinks, PARISTON, Shalnark, (HXH) Ranpo, DAZAI, Atsushi, (BSD) Aizawa, Shigiraki, (MHA) Ace (OP) EREN, Levi, Reiner, (AOT)

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Platonic yandere shigaraki HCS with a younger sister who's the daughter of AFO? (Since he's readers adopted older brother since AFO adopted shigaraki)

Yandere Older Brother Shigaraki Tomura

“This is the little sibling I was telling you about. Would you like to hold them?”

“But my quirk–!”

“Not this time. Trust me.”

It was hard not to pull his cradled arms away when AFO unswaddled and slowly lowered the baby down

Visions of his past 

His quirk’s awakening flashed violent through his mind 

Tightly shutting his eyes in fear 

he feels the warmth and substantial weight in his arms

Opening his eyes to see a darling little baby cooing at him

Giving a gummy smile when he lets out a little chuckle in disbelief

“This is (Y/n). You’re little sibling.”

“My little-?”

“Yes. Will you protect them?

“YES!”

From then on it was history

It’s been him and his newfound family against the world 

Even with his old notfamily he wasn’t the oldest

And now you’re immune to his power letting him connect with you in a way he just can’t with others

All that being said he’s a doting big brother

“(Y/n). Are you giving the nanny trouble?”

“Psh! It was only a mud pie!”

“Really? That doesn’t sound so bad.” 

“They threw it in my face!!”

“It was meant for the pillow! Honest!”

“If (Y/n) said it was meant for the pillow then it was meant for the pillow I see no problem here.”

Because AFO is AFO the way you’re raised will really dictate how he watches over you

If he’s not the only one doting on you but your father dearest as well you can expect to always be miles away from the action

Kept in the boonies or shipped across the world

If AFO demands it you will see no such thing as a world he doesn’t create

But if you’re just another tool of his then you both will start to get competitive

��Awww heard about the little incident in Kamino! Heard you couldn’t get the job done!” “And I heard about your little excursion with the American division.”

“Pft! it was more so just a distraction.”

“Oh yeah? Is your enemy weakened and out of the game for good?”

“Grrrr.”

“That’s what I thought little Padawan!”

“Grrr shut up!”

If AFO completely ignores you and keeps you only because Tomura wants it 

Or because you have too many features like your late uncle

He’s dealing with a rebellious little sibling that he’s intent on tracking down

Whether you’ve decided to side with the heroes or strike out on your own

He will make it everyone’s problem that you’re not in his custody

“You seem to forget (Y/n) that as your older brother, I’m going to protect you…whether you like it or not.”

In whichever universe you are the apple of his eye

And he refuses to let you leave it

Whatever plan AFO has for him can wait if it doesn’t mean you safely within his grasp

[nonobadcat]

For @oklolnoty

Down the Rabbit Hole - Five Chapters - 20k words - Yandere Shigaraki Tomura x Rabbit Quirk Female Reader

Chapter Navigation: 1|2|3|4|5 🐇 Ao3 Mirror

Whole story TW: Noncon, yandere with kidnapping, severe quirk based discrimination, binge drinking, canon typical threats of violence (reader directed), canon typical death (nonreader directed), oral (give/receive), PnV (doggie), breeding, and expensive designer clothing everywhere.

Rating: 18+ readers only - Minors DNI

Chapter 2: Nomination - 3.4k words

TW: Drinking, quirk discrimination, Incel Tomura being a massive jerk for "reasons", author makes a Javascript joke but only understands html Special thanks to @krystalwithakay for laughing at the aforementioned joke and programming the much more complicated Javascript joke yet to come.

“You have a nomination.”

Plastering the bandage to the back of your bleeding heel, you slipped your pumps back on. Your manager stared down her beak at you. You blinked at her before rising to your full height.

“A nomination? I thought Azuma-san canceled our Thursdays permanently after that fight with his wife?”

“It’s another client.” Blue plumage fluffed as she whipped her fan open. “An important client,” she stressed, narrowing her amber eyes.

“So this is the ‘best bunny behavior’ speech?” Tossing a floppy ear back behind your neck, you pitched your voice an octave higher. “Okay! I’m super duper excited to meet him, Mama-san.”

The fan snapped shut. She cocked her head and beckoned you towards the front desk. You tailed her, watching embroidered folds of black taffeta sway back and forth with every calculated swing of her Coke bottle hips. With all the grace of a prima ballerina, she dipped below the countertop and headed for the towel warmer. “You’ve met him before. Briefly. Last Friday.”

Your eyes rolled to the creamy plaster ceiling as you wracked your brain. “But Usagi is back, right? Wouldn’t Tano-san rather have her?”

“It’s not Tano-san.”

A cold sweat broke on your neck as memories of a tooth-and-nail conversation slammed into you like a loose brick. You staggered under the weighty realization. “Wait… you don’t mean—”

Long tongs placed cozy terry cloth on a small silver platter. Leaning over the counter, she snatched your wrist and foisted the tray into your grip. “I don’t know what you did, but you’re the first hostess he’s asked for by name.” Her glare could cut iron. “His sponsor is very well connected and I’m running out of staff. Do not fail me.”

“Yes, Mama-san,” you agreed, shrinking under her heavy expectations.

Just past the ratty leaves of the money tree, slouched in the center of the entryway, the slender-man of Nyanko’s nightmares looked just as bored as you remembered. Poor posture ruined the flawless lines of his expensive wool suit. Dull eyes and a flat expression looked better suited to a mummy than a man of twenty something. His dry, shrunken lips only enhanced the impression. However, the moment you slid into view, he lifted his chin.

It was hard to contain a confident smirk as red eyes rolled over your outfit from top to bottom. The sight of a real, live bunny girl in a halter neck, sleeveless tuxedo shirt and black leather miniskirt slaughtered most men on sight. Though conservative compared to usual club attire (read: T&A: on display), delicate ruffles drew the eye to pearl buttons trailing between sculpted cleavage. Chunky Mary Jane platforms elongated your legs until they could stop traffic. Add in a flash of thin garter belts holding old-school silk stockings at mid thigh and the entire collection could be classified as a weapon of mass erection.

“Welcome back, Shigaraki-san! ♡” Voice stuffed into a falsetto, you dipped into a bow while holding out the hot towel. “I’m soooooo excited that you requested me!”

Hair bristling silence was your only reply. He lifted the wipe up using only two fingers. With all the enthusiasm of a robot, he washed his hands one digit at a time before replacing the cloth on the tray.

Ouch. Like smacking your forehead against an iceberg.

"Please step this way." You gestured to one of the open booths like a variety show host.

He shuffled past, paying less attention to you than one would pay to a stray soda can laying on the pavement.

You hoisted the brown, leather bound menu. "Would you like me to recommend something? There’s a super taste cham—"

He rested his head on his palm, long fingers denting his cheek. "Cassis Orange."

An error has occurred. See error log for details. Java.lang.NullPointerException Error Log: Shigaraki.drinkorder cannot be defined 0: He is joking 1: He cares ≤ 0

…

…

…

1= True

“Oh, yummy!” you cooed, flagging the bartender for one of the sweet cocktails. “Most guys won’t order that drink because of some weird macho complex.” You leaned into your palm, mimicking his stance. “It’s nice to drink with a man who is confident in himself.”

Unblinking eyes stared you down. “What do you want to drink?”

Sake bomb.

You tapped your chin. “Um… I think my favorite is a mimosa with Dom Pérignon.” The tinkling laugh you faked grated on your own nerves. You glanced away, curling inwards to fake lady-like shyness. “Champagne goes straight to my head though…”

Liar. In this profession, drinking skills made bank. Champagne was pricey. Pricey drinks lead to better bonuses. A little white lie here, a coy seduction there and while he was chasing bubbles for a chance to paw you up, you could rake in the cash.

“—so I should probably stick with something like a—”

Sake bomb.

No. Stick to the brand. Frufru girly-girls drink frufru girly drinks. No man picks the adorable bunny to have her drink him under the table. Way too emasculating.

“—lemon sour.”

SAKE BOMB.

Shigaraki rolled his eyes. “That’s lame.”

Says the guy drinking the cocktail equivalent of a pink polka dot ribbon?!

You scratched your cheek to cover the wince. “Well, it’s what I can manage. After all, it wouldn't be much fun for you if I got all silly and clingy, right?”

Perfect delivery. If that didn’t make him order you a champagne, the man was a eunuch.

He huffed, scratching his neck. “That does sound gross,” he agreed.

Excuse you?! What kind of man comes to a HOSTESS CLUB and says “ew… I hope hot women DON’T cling to me.” What was he?! Afraid of catching cooties?

You flinched into a fake grin. “I-I know, right? I try very hard to manage myself so I’m fun to be around.”

Ugh. You needed a sake bomb.

Shigaraki’s bored stare cut through you like a knife. You whipped your head around, flashing the waiter the sign for a lemon sour. With a deep breath to soothe your ruffled fur, you turned back to your new arch nemesis.

Game on, crusty boy. Let’s show you what max level charm can do!

Sliding smoothly beside him, you dragged one calf up your thigh until your tight little skirt nearly broke public decency laws. His eyes flicked to your legs. You schooled your expression into a peaceful smile more relaxing than a shiatsu massage. 

“So Shigaraki-san, Mama-san mentioned you have a mentor. What is that like?”

“Pretty much the same as anyone with a mentor I guess.”

“What type of things does he teach you?”

“This and that.”

“It sounds like a well rounded education then.”

“I guess.”

Give a girl something to work with, you tight lipped little snot!

“What’s the favorite thing you learned so far?”

He leaned back in his seat, eyes rolling to the ceiling. The edge of his lip twitched upwards for one heartbeat. “Not to judge people at face value. To always assume they’re hiding something.”

You giggled. “Well, that’s good advice. He sounds very wise.”

“He’s done a lot of different things over the years.”

“How eclectic.”

“Eclectic?”

Crap! You let your bimbo face slip. Dial it back. Dial it back.

“Just something I heard Mama-san say once. She says people who have many interests are eclectic.” You raised one finger and put a bubble-gum pop into your words. “I guess that means they have a lot of energy or something since it sounds like electric!”

Perfect. Now he can “well, actually…” you and feel superior. Men love that. Nice save. 

“You’re lying.”

You cocked your head and stared at him with the bald-faced bemusement of a proper airhead. 

He leaned forward, resting his elbow on the table. Red eyes bored into yours. “You used the word correctly. You knew what it meant.”

When the waiter set the drinks by your elbow, you could have hugged him. You broke off eye contact with Shigaraki, clasped your hands together, and let out an excited squeal. “Oh my gosh this looks so cool! They cut the orange in the shape of a star. How fancy is that?!”

The deadpan stare continued.

You inhaled to puff your chest before carefully placing the drink before him. Steady hands kept the sunset colored gradient exactly as the bartender had prepared it. Then, you gripped your glass, being sure to twist your wrist and show off baby pink nails with tiny glitter bows.

See crusty boy? Nothing here but an empty headed bunny doll made of rack and back. 

“Toasties?” you asked, holding your cup up for the clink.

Never breaking his gaze, your client lifted his drink with his pinky out and tapped your glass as if the sound repulsed him. He stirred the gradient away before sipping his fruity cocktail.

With a long suck, you drained half the lemon-sweet mixer in one go. “Yummy!” you cooed, licking your lips. “How does yours taste, Shigaraki-san?”

“Apparently, not as good as yours.”

You rubbed the back of your neck. “Ah! How embarrassing. It’s been a long time since I met a guy like you. When I get nervous I drink more.”

Peeling lips cracked into an amused sneer. “Oh really?”

“Being with someone like you is so exciting.” You took another sip, glancing at him from under mascara coated lashes. “It makes it hard to hold back.”

He laughed. “...and therefore you’ll be blowing through your drinks pretty quick, wracking up a big tab at my expense, right?”

“Maybe…” you teased coyly, tracing the rim of your glass with one finger. “I mean, it’s your fault for looking so good.”

He snorted. “How do you say that stuff with a straight face?”

“Huh?” You cocked your head the other way and pointed at your underbust. “Straight lace? No, my corset is a criss cross.” You leaned forward, angling your torso for maximum ‘round mound’ effect. “See? It’s all back and forth.”

Shigaraki looked you up and down, the smile dipping back to a frown. “That’s pretty boring though.”

Boring? Oh screw off. You try holding up a one sided conversation, douchebag!

“You don’t like fashion? But you’re dressed so nice!”

“No, what I don’t like is—” he gestured to all of you. “—this. Whatever this is.”

Hair bristling, you sat back in your seat. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”

“The lines are pretty good lies but that—” he waved at the whole of you again “—is messing it up.” 

Your throat tensed, leaving a touch of gravel in your voice. “I’m sorry, but you’re talking too complicated for a stupid bunny girl like me. Can you dumb it down so I can understand?”

Now the grin was back but it was… pointy? Yes. That was the best way to describe it. All sharp lines and shadows like some creepy monster hiding in the closet. 

“I want that.”

You blinked at him. “Come again?” 

He leaned forward. “That. You. The real you. Not the act.”

“Act? I don’t understand—” 

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t play stupid. I want the girl from the alley.” 

BANG

In an instant you were on your feet, shaking hands flat against the glossy table top. Manicured nails raked the surface until the glass shrieked under your sweaty palms. The room went silent. Dark shadows obscured your face. With a crack, your head snapped up to reveal a mechanical smile.

“Shigaraki-san, I am having difficulty hearing you over all the noise in this room.” You jabbed a thumb over your shoulder towards the back corner. “If we’re going to continue our little chat I think we should move to a private suite. The champagne room is lovely for cozy conversation. There is a 200,000 yen cover charge and the first bottle of Dom Pérignon is included.”

Curious eyes from all corners of the room stared at the show. Good. Now that he was on blast, he’d have to put up to save face or shut up and clamp down on his prying. Your chest burned with bated breath as you awaited his response.

Shigaraki groped into his pocket. With a flick of his wrist, a black, leather wallet arced through the air. Wide eyed, you caught it with both hands. He slid out of his seat and onto his feet.

“Sure. I’m game for a bonus stage.”

You glanced down at the thick billfold only to see a hefty clump of 10,000 yen banknotes sticking out the top. Your mouth ran dry. Shoving the wallet back into his hands, you gestured to the bouncer. He bustled over, tapping his key card to the electronic lock. As Shigaraki strolled past you into the private room, you glanced back at Mama-san. Her inscrutable expression disappeared behind the fluttering fan with a sharp snap.

Welp, hopefully that meant she wouldn’t fire you for what you were about to do.

Beyond the tufted leather door, the two of you entered a shrine to leisure and pleasure. Mirrored walls reflected soft, glittering light from the teardrop chandelier above. Upon plush, red carpet, overstuffed sofas crafted from butter soft, ivory leather begged for only the most pampered backsides. On the far wall, a massive television complete with jumbo speakers and a full karaoke set waited patiently for any party sized two to twenty. Glowing copper trim on the seating matched the metal frame of the oversized coffee table. Shigaraki flopped down on the low-backed loveseat. The waiter carried your chilled champagne in on a silver platter before quickly bowing out of the room.

As the door clicked shut, Shigaraki draped his arms across the back of the sofa and flashed you a sneer. "Got something to say?"

Sashaying across the floor, you smoothed the sofa and took your place next to your guest. Graceful as a swan, you lifted the bottle and sliced the foil with your thumbnail. A few quick twists freed the cork from its wire prison. With a roll of your wrist, his flute dangled between your digits. 

POP

The speeding cork grazed his ear.

Golden bubbles arced from the bottle. When his glass was nearly full, you twisted the flow to a stop. Leaning forward flashed him a glance at your cleavage. A naughty smile hovered just above it. You set the bottle by his elbow and stroked the stem of your glass like a porn actress.

"Fill me up, Shigaraki-san?" you teased.

He flushed.

So crusty boy liked it a little dirty, huh? File that away for future reference.

Your guest sloshed the expensive liquid into your flute. The bottle clanked onto the table. He stared at you with a raised brow.

With a sweet smile, you hoisted your drink. The delicate tinkle of crystal on crystal accompanied a syrupy salute. "Toasties~!" 

You shot the champagne like a middle aged manager whining about his alimony payment. The glass hit the table with a hard CLANK. 

"All right, listen up," you growled. “First, I’ve spent a long time pretending 'Miss Sugar-Tits' is my personality and outing me in front of the clients is a dick move. If my regulars see me act like this—” you whipped your hand across your face “—my happy tail doesn’t get paid and you better believe I am all kinds of nasty when I can’t afford to eat.”

Shigaraki sipped his drink with a vulgar grin.

You crossed your arms and scowled. “Second, what is your deal?! You’re bored with the girls, you barely drink the booze, and you don’t want to talk. Why drag yourself out here night after night just to be a massive jerk to a bunch of women who you are paying to suck up to you?!” You huffed and turned your cheek. “Heck of a fetish if it is one.”

“I need to level up my coercion.”

You blinked. “Excuse me, what?”

Cracked nails scraped his neck “Sensei told me I needed practice handling people I don’t like. Hostesses are top tier at that skill. It was useful to learn but pretty boring until I saw you whaling on that dumpster. Not something I expected from the fluff-for-brains bunny girl you pretend to be.” He folded his hands in front of his face, resting his pointed chin on top. With a smirk he added: “The part about tearing down society was pretty interesting. Do you call that ‘hare razing’?”

You grabbed a floppy ear and shook it at him. “I’m a rabbit, not a hare, douchebag.”

He leaned back into the chair, arms open wide. “Whatever. The point is that I like that version of you much better than the act.”

You snorted. “Well literally everyone else disagrees with you on that one. Trust me.”

“That’s because society values sappy platitudes over the straight truth.”

“And what truth is that?”

He reached for his glass, knocking back the drink like you had only moments ago. Though he wasn’t a particularly tall man, when rose to his feet and leered down at you, you felt oddly small by comparison. Something about the glowing gaze left you rigid in your seat. Your breath hitched. Scarlet eyes burned as they rolled over your face.

“That the game is buggy and needs a hard reset.”

You shifted in your seat, looking away from his searing stare. Shaking hands balled in your lap. Ringing filled your ears. Voices from the past cried out from painful memories.

“No need to push yourself sweetie. We’re just happy to have you be our team mascot.” 

“Aw… look at you trying so hard. How cute.”

“Don’t act like such a prude. We all know how you got this internship.”

Bile bubbled up your throat. You choked it down. A weary scoff puffed from quivering lips. “Not wrong there,” you muttered.

He blew out a long breath, as if he’d been holding it. “I knew you understood.”

Shaking off a prickling at the back of your neck, you forced a laugh. “But I’m just a bunny girl. I can’t do something as grand as change the world.”

Your guest narrowed his eyes and clicked his tongue. “Chcc. Boring.” He groped into his pocket, pulling out his phone. One glance at the screen and he shoved it into hiding again. “I have to leave anyway.”

Liquid rage poured through your body. “Excuse you!? What did you just call me ‘Mr. couldn’t-carry-a-conversation-if-it-had-a-handle?!’”

He raised his chin and sneered at you. “You’re boring when you’re like that. I’m just calling it like I see it.”

Sharp nails pricked your palms. “Oh!? Is that so?! Then, pray tell, when am I not boring?”

Shigaraki scoffed. “When you’re the real you.” 

Bristling with fury, you stomped your heel. “Fine! You want the real me?! Screw it.” You jabbed a finger at his face. “You. Me. Paid date. Wednesday at 2 PM. 25,000 yen per hour.”

“Two? Isn’t that early?”

“What’s the matter?” A cruel smirk twisted on your lips. “Ain’t got the stamina?”

He scratched his neck. Red heat crawled across his skin.

You reached towards him, palm out. “Give me your phone.”

“Why?”

You rolled your eyes. “So I can put my number in it?”

He dragged out the device and tapped in the unlock code. “This better be worth it,” he declared, dropping it in your palm.

“I’m always worth it.” You zeroed in on his texts, stabbing in your number to the recipient line. There were only two words in the message: “crusty boy”. Pressing “send” so hard it nearly cracked the screen, you shoved the phone back in his chest. “What’s your first name?”

He squinted at you suspiciously. “Why?”

You put your hand on one hip. “You want me to spend the entire date calling you ‘Shigaraki-san’?”

After a long pause he muttered, “Tomura.”

You tapped the name into your contacts. “Got it. “I’ll drop you the details later—” Fluttering lashes accompanied a smile more sadistic than seductive. “—Tomura.”

His breath hitched as the warm flush tipped his ears. 

You hummed, craning your neck. 

His lips curled in a feral snarl. Snatching up the door handle, he nodded to the bottle. “It won’t keep. Finish it yourself.”

“How generous—” you licked your lips “—Tomura.”

As the door slammed shut, you giggled and picked up the champagne. 

Maybe you could trade it in for a sake bomb.

Chapter Navigation: 1|2|3|4|5 🐇 Ao3 Mirror

Next Chapter Expected: July 15th, 2023

Expected Completion Date: Mid-Aug 2023

Taglist: @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love @shig-a-shig-ah @castershellwrites @smilinghowever @krystalwithakay @iris-goddess @ss-syche @mortallysparklyfun @meameows @magnificentclodpiezonk @betterfettered @utena-akashiya @ventdavi154 @st4rrust @imaginedheroine @the-lady-writes-what @shiggysimp69 @toughbook @naughteehee @tampon-earrings @alotofpussy @derobsawiempleh @jadke-bean @saintvinny @cookiecrumblemoonster @curlyangelsblog @hurthermore @prehistoricfreak @insomniamoth22 @celesterdzc18 @sasuqahs @gloomysel @ohnoitsthatonekid @tracksuit-goth @cinnatwisted @anteabelle @unlikelytrio @meru-the-succubus @diawh0re @linastired @mikeyrights @headmastermephistopheles @omisdolly @nochedeodio @starstruckvega @laurelyna @shiggysimp69 @certainlygay @rxyno @ventdavi154 @patch-workk @paranormal-dude @grenosethino @fancylardbucket @utena-akashiya @toughbook @oklolnoty @zombiegr1 @shyyykat @ushi-uri @flamme-meuf2-shiggy @vampirec0w @perpetual-fangirl900 @nekolover93 @saskenma @betterfettered @thread-knight @st4rrust @sparrowwritesforop @aphorditeslust @pindelighted @tadokorochann @usaggii

@beeandtrees @justineangelrococo @aaangeliii

[toji-bunny-girl]

subby panty sniffer loser!shigaraki i cant stop thinking abt 😖

Shigaraki has always hated you.

Ever since All For One brought you in, and your jaded eyes first met his—you’ve always goaded an odd, frustrating burn in him. At first, you both merely ignored each other’s presence. And he has always preferred that. Then things soon got annoying when you started cozying up to him and trying to be friends with him. It’s fucking irritating and the burn gets worst the closer you press yourself into his space.

All it took for you to switch it up was his unrequited demeanour to your friendliness. It’s a bit too easy, really. A harsh word or two and a sneer at your face already got him on your bitch-list—just like everyone else would.

Everybody’s the same.

And you’re nothing special. That’s what he tells himself, repeatedly, over the years. Even when the glow in his belly comes alive whenever you brush pass him, his eyes memorised the curves of your grown body behind the curtains of his shaggy hair and god—the sweet, head-spinning scent of your underwear that sends his nerves tingling.

Yes, you’re nothing but a pest. A pest who always leaves her clothes in the laundry room, and often finds her panties gone without a trace.

Stupid and forgetful and—

“What…the hell?”

The hair on his nape flew erect, prickly dots snaked beneath his skin in a shot the moment he heard your voice—laced in utter disbelief and disgust.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! You weren’t supposed to collect your laundry this early yet. Weren’t you supposed to be training with All for One?!

“So, you’re the panty thief?” you sneered at him, the same way he would at you. You would’ve never in a million years even think of the scene in front of you—Shigaraki Tomura, who openly despises you, rubbing his cock with your panty? “What a joke.”

His pale face grew crimson red from the blood that rushed through his pulsing veins, his pride ripped from his clutch with every blink of your eyes soaking the embarrassing sight of him. God, he wanted to die right then and there. He shouldn’t have initially neared your laundry before, he should’ve ignored the tugging burn that urged him to touch the remnants that enveloped your bare body, and you shouldn’t have came here in the first place!

His thoughts are chasing after his sanity, and his heart threatened to beat its hard last. You’re nearing him and his sweating form with every dreadful step, and his body had the guts to feel…excited—his cock throbbed and the familiar burn came roaring through his vessels again.

Just what are you doing to him?

You snatched the damp piece of underwear from his grasp, soaked with his sticky precum, and his cockhead twitched from the lost warmth that previously hugged his shaft.

He’s now bare, blood continued to pump his cock hard as you stared at the mere size of his—length and girth you’d never thought would be hiding behind his dirty clothes; tip flushed in a pretty shade of pale pink, and veins that stemmed from the bush of light blue. His heartbeat thumped loud in his ears as you looked, and he almost lost of your words from the beating.

“Is this some kind of perverted hobby you have? I always knew you’re weird, but not to this extent,” you threw your underwear aside before shoving him, his back roughly bumped into the wall behind. Fuck, he doesn’t know what to say—and what to do other than to watch how you’re reacting to this twisted mess.

You’re staring at his twitching cock when his gaze flickered to your face, his hot panting hazed the air and it scorched your cheeks in a burnt shade. What are you thinking?

“It’s only fair for me to touch you after you’ve been jerking off to my panty, right?” it’s almost a reassurance for your own self than to him. His eyes widened, pupils dilating as you wrapped your hand around his throbbing member.

“W-What are you doing?!” he bit his bottom lip to muffle a moan, fingers curling into fists against the wall, nails poking into his flesh.

“Entertaining myself with a freak like you,” you snickered, stroking his veiny shaft with your cold fingers. Shigaraki shuddered to your touch, the nerve-numbing burn soaring through his stomach as his chest rose and fell quicker by the second.

“Get your d-dirty hand off of me,” his breath hitched as he stretched his throat, pushing his head against the cool wall. His toes curled as you pumped his length, and his nerves tingled from the sight of you staring at his cock with that look in your eyes.

“You seem to enjoy it, hm? I thought you hated me, I can’t believe you’ve been busting over my fucking panty. Do you have a crush on me or what?”

“Y-You…hngh—bitch!”

“I didn’t know a mutt could talk…much less call me a bitch?” your grip tightened, unforgivingly so around his slippery cockhead, earning a pretentious grunt—which tumbled out of his chapped lips in the form of a pathetic moan. “What was that? You sound like a little girl,” his cheeks burned in embarrassment as you made fun of him, your snickers ringing in his hazy mind, taunting the pleasure that piled over his nerves. “I want an apology, you perverted loser.”

“N-No way—nngh!” Shigaraki’s sweat-glazed body jolted from every painful twist of your fingers, his thighs shaking from the way you’ve been abusing his cock; flashes of bloody ruby glinted from behind his greasy bangs. It’s funny, really. He thought he looks all fierce and intimidating when actually, he’s nothing but a slutty mess holding back his drool.

“It’s not a fucking request,” your hand wretched his face closer to yours, his eyes nearly melting under your flinty gaze.

“F-Fuwah—aanh!” his hips drew backwards in creeping sensitivity, and a loud slick sound bounced off of the lewd-seen walls as your nails flicked in contact with his twitching red tip.

“You know I’m impatient, hm? So hurry,” your thumb hastily rubbed over his leaking slit, splattering his pre-cum all over the both of your clothes. His body shook into your arms, jerking and whining as his hands scrambled to hold onto you for support.

“Mmmgh! Haa—” his weight slopped onto your body, and his heavy head rest against your shoulder as you continued to stoke his throbbing fat girth with your tightening grip. “So—aangh! S-Sorry, m’sorry!”

“Aww, who knew you’d sound cute when you all whiney,” your other hand rose to tilt his chin, his ruby eyes glistening with tears of desperation, drool slipping past his mouth as he clenched his teeth. “What a pathetic face.”

His hips pistoned into your hand, clumsily rocking forward and messing up the fine rhythm of strokes you had, his moans sounding more and more breathy—you could tell he was at the near edge. Drawing your face closer to him, your soft lips met his cracked ones just as a crooked cry leaped out of his dry throat, and you could feel his hot cum shooting onto your shirt, staining your top white with the smell of him.

Shigaraki stayed unmoving, merely gulped as you licked and wet his lips with your tender tongue, your saliva mixing and dripping down his chin. The burn in him wasn’t just a flame anymore, it had exploded into chains of reaction—his heart squeezed and insides bursted into a sloppy, chaotic mess.

Does he have a crush on you?

[kingtomura]

Lessons

TW: dark content!!, yandere!shigaraki tomura x female reader, noncon/dubcon, implied kidnapping, degradation, humiliation, begging, anal fingering, piv, tomura is mean, mdni. wc: 2k Synopsis: Tomura thinks it’s time you learned an important lesson.

"I got something for you today."

Here he goes again, you think as you watch Shigaraki place a white plastic bag onto his desk. It’s hard to fight the roll of your eyes, but you do. He’s been in a mood lately and you don’t want to push your luck more than you have. 

It’s become routine, you and him. 

He gets too close, you tell him off. It surprises you that he actually listens and instills some kind of confidence in yourself — in your words. Maybe you have more power over the situation than you thought. 

The rustle of the bag catches your attention and you watch as he pulls out a few things. An energy drink, a small box of what looks like bandages and a small bottle of clear liquid. 

Your brows raise, interest piqued and you sit up a little straighter to see better. 

“What do you—?”

He holds the bottle up and your face scrunches in confusion. His smile is one that sends chills up your spine and you have to will yourself to stop being antsy. 

“Lube. It’s for you!” He says like it’s a birthday gift you’ve waited all year for. “You’ve been so… mouthy lately, I’ve decided to give you something to mouth off about. Won’t that be fun?” 

The question is rhetorical and you no longer fight your antsy movements. Rushing to your feet and taking a pointed step away from Shigaraki, your eyes narrow, “what are you talking about?” You’ve never had to use lube. He’s just taken what he’s wanted and your body adjusts every time — as much as you hated it. 

He places the lube back onto the desk and grabs his energy drink, cracking the can open and taking a sip of the sugary sweet soda. He was calm, patient — eerily so. 

After he’s had his fill of the drink, Shigaraki looks to you and nods his head in the direction of the bed. “Get on it.”

Your heart felt like it would pound out of your chest as you held your hands up to the man before you. “Wait, Tomura, we can—!”

“Oh?” He cuts you off, voice lifted and mockingly playful, “I’m Tomura now? But you were so comfortable calling me shigaraki.” 

He places his drink can back on the desk and fully turns toward you. “I didn’t stutter. Get on the fucking bed.” 

You knew his patience was wearing thin, but you still had to try. Taking a shaky breath, you get onto the bed, sitting down on the edge of it. 

“On your hands and knees.” 

Your blood ran cold, and you tried once more, searching your brain for any sweet words that could placate him. Desperate to find something, anything he would like to hear from you, “please—“

He’s in front of you before you can blink, large hand grabbing your face and pressing your cheeks together, “I’m done playing these games with you,” you can smell the sugar from the drink on his breath as your breathing picks up, pricks of panic lacing your body.

Shigaraki crashed his lips into yours, wasting no time slipping his tongue into your wet mouth. The taste of sweet energy drink was nauseating but you kissed back in fear of what he would do if he didn’t. You’ve exhausted all options and you knew, deep down that anything more would only make things worse. 

He pulls away, a trail of saliva following as he meets your eyes — and god, his smile. He’s giddy like a kid on Christmas and you regret every act of defiance you’ve made against him these past few weeks. 

“Cute.” Was the only word he gave before you were being manhandled onto your stomach, face in the pillows and ass in the air. 

“You know,” he muses, pressing his clothed erection to your panties, “I’m starting to think you want this. You want to see me angry so I can put you in your place.” 

He backs away to pull your underwear down in one swift movement, making you reach back to attempt to cover yourself. This only irritates him more as he grabs your wrist and pins your arm behind your back. The angle is as painful as it is uncomfortable. 

You hear him shuffling around behind you, no doubt one free hand of his own making things more difficult — and you take small pleasure in that. It’s short lived though as he seems to find what he’s looking for and you brace yourself for the inevitable. 

There’s the pop of a cap and then smooth cold liquid dripping down your backside and over your hole that makes you shiver. You feel frozen as the liquid trails lower and lower until it’s past the heat of your cunt. 

All it takes is the press of a finger to get you putting up a fight once more. there was no way he was really doing this. He’s never tried this. 

“I shouldn’t even prep you, honestly,” he mutters and you wince as one of his digits slowly push past the ring of muscle. “You’ve been so defiant. You really need to learn some manners.” 

The tears streaming from your eyes are making the pillow below you damp and cold, but you can only sniff in response. “Tomura, please—“

“Please what?” He sinks the finger deeper and you can’t hold back your yelp of pain. 

You shake your head as much as you can, “please stop! It hurts..” 

He pulls out suddenly and you think he’s actually going to listen — that he’s actually done torturing you until-

A hand swings down and slaps your ass, making you cry out. He imitates a buzzer sound before gripping the fat of your bottom, “wrong answer!” 

You thrash more as panic wells up inside when you feel the prodding of two fingers instead of one against your hole. “You know, this is supposed to be your punishment,” both won’t fit and he resorts to only letting one finger penetrate, his other hand massaging the cheek of your behind. “But I’m afraid you may like this too much.”

He is delusional. Shigaraki is the one that’s having the time of his life watching you suffer and writhe. You try to pull forward and away but the hand that was massaging your ass is now grabbing your hip and holding you in place. Your cry is loud as you feel the pressure of another finger join the first and shigaraki wastes no time pumping the digits in and out of your hole. 

You think your crying and begging falls on deaf ears — forcing you to accept the inevitable and you find yourself wishing you were anywhere else but here. You could be dropped off in the middle of the Sahara Desert during a summer heatwave and it would still be miles better than this hellhole. 

Just when you’re about to surrender to your fate and stop fighting it, shigaraki speaks again, “Since I’m so kind and understanding, I’ll give you a choice.” it’s like he sensed you were on the verge of checking out. That would just be too easy. “Which hole do you want me in? Hm? Tell me.” 

He’s gripping your hip tighter and you know there will be bruises formed but your mind could  only focus on this awful option. 

You don’t want him in either. The idea of having to tell him which way to violate you only made you nauseous. But you knew that you had to make a choice because it was always worse when he made one for you. 

“M-my..” you feel sick, swallowing your shame and squeezing your eyes shut as you continue, “I want you in my.. pussy.” 

You could practically hear the smile in Shigaraki's voice, “yeah? Beg for it.” 

He wanted to humiliate you, this was the real punishment. To build you up, give you a false sense of security only to break you down even more. He was sick. 

But you were sicker because you did exactly as you were told. 

“Tomura, please. Please fuck me.” You turned your head, as if you could hide your shame into the pillow below you, “I need you.” 

“Atta girl.” He praises, pulling his fingers out and you sigh in relief, nerves calming and shoulders relaxing. You almost melt into the sheets until you feel the pressure of shigaraki’s erection against your cunt. The lube is there and making things wetter than usual but the squeeze will still be uncomfortable. 

You look back, worry lacing your features, “wait, Tomura—“ but you don’t have a chance to finish, he pushes into you, girth stretching you and making your toes curl in an odd combination of pleasure and discomfort. 

Shigaraki lets out a sigh of relief, rocking his hips at a steady pace before leaning over you. “Fuck, that’s good.” The hand gripping your hip moves to cup your breast, tweaking the sensitive nub between his thumb and forefinger. 

This was familiar, this was easy. It was not uncharted territory and it was something you could convince yourself was okay. Normal, even.

“Mine, mine, you’re all mine” he babbles into your ear and you don’t turn away, terrified he’ll go back on his words if you do. 

His pace is picking up and you find yourself getting lost in the motions. His body rocking against yours as he changes the angle and oh—

He hits the spot inside and you can’t stop yourself from moaning out. It’s sensitive and it makes your back arch with every deep stroke. 

“Fuckin’ slut, I knew you’d like this.” He mutters, circling his thumb around your unoccupied hole, the lube making it slide with ease, before pressing into the tightness. The pain is dull and the pressure of being filled so much almost sends you over, dragging a whine from the back of your throat. 

The bed shakes from the force of Shigaraki’s thrusts and you feel heat pool in your lower abdomen. You were so close and you hated it. Hated him. But when you felt his warm hand move from your breast, down your stomach until it was splayed out over your cunt — pinkie finger lifted and middle finger brushing your clit with every thrust. 

You were beginning to feel dizzy with pleasure and your head fell onto the pillow, hands gripping the sheets below to anchor yourself as you got lost in the feelings. It was overwhelming and you couldn’t bite back your cries and Shigaraki’s thrusts became erratic, he was close too. 

All it took was one more thrust to sweep you over the edge, eyes rolling back as your thighs shook — orgasm claiming you.

“Oh, fuck.” Shigaraki breathed, stilling as his own waves of pleasure overcame him. You barely registered the pulse of his cock as he came deep inside of you. 

You both try to catch your breath, time seeming to still as you panted. Shigaraki was the first to move, you felt him pull out and pause — no doubt watching his cum drip from your cunt — before taking his place next to you on the bed. 

The quiet of the room is deafening and your eyelids feel heavy. You’re as still as a mouse, not wanting to stir and risk him starting up again, but his eyes are already closed. You almost think he’s asleep before he speaks again. 

“Next time,” he starts, stretching before sitting up, “I won’t be so kind. So you should clean up your nasty attitude.”

You nod, dread weighing down your efforts. There wouldn’t be a next time, if you could help it. Regrettably, you tremble at the thought as you realize this is the exact lesson he was trying to teach you.

[kikyoupdates]

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Your Quirk is rather unique. It plays out almost like a game, giving you missions and goals that help you become stronger. On top of that, you also have the ability to charm those around you. It sounds innocent enough on paper, and you can’t help but revel in the attention everyone keeps showering you with. But what happens when their feelings give way to something more sinister?

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Desperate for money to pay off your debts, you sign up for a program that allows you to sell your blood to vampires. At first, everything is fine, and you’re finally able to make ends meet. But they soon begin craving more than just your blood.

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Crushed Velvet | yandere!ocs x reader yandere, reverse harem, original characters, f!reader

Your parents are thrilled to have secured an engagement for you with the royal family. Your suitor, the crown prince, has agreed to be wed to you. It seems as though your entire future has been assured, so why is it that from this moment onward, your life starts to fall apart at the seams?

⊱.⋅follow + post notifications on for story update announcements or join the author's discord!⋅.⊰

[disaster-writer]

Tear You Apart (Prequel)

Pairing: Dabi x Reader x Shigaraki

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

Word Count: 3.6k

Rating: X 18+

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

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

Tear You Apart (Part 1)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was just Dabi and Shigaraki.

And you all alone in the back.

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

Dabi looked over his own shoulder. 

You were falling asleep.

He then looked at your drink that you completely drained.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”Just trying to cop a feel then?”

Shigaraki didn’t respond.

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

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

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

Dabi looked back over his shoulder.

You were asleep.

Shit.

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

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

Dabi needed a plan to get you into your room.

Ah, fuck it.

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

”I slipped her something.”

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

”Why?” 

He didn’t seem put off, just curious.

Fuckin’ perv.

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

”What was it?”

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

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

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

“What happened after you touched her?” 

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

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

He started scratching his neck.

“Come with me and I’ll show you.”

”Okay.”

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

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

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

You didn’t even hum, still fast asleep.

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

”Crybaby?” Shigaraki asked.

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

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

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

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

His cock stirred.

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

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

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

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

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

”I want to see you touch her.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shigaraki’s hand twitched as he eyed your tits.

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

Shigaraki was getting annoyed, “Why can you?”

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

You groaned again.

Then came your gloves. 

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

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

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

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

“Touch her,” he ordered.

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

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

”Fine. You got it boss.”

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

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

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

It made his fucking cock throb and he needed more.

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

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

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

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

Dabi started kissing down your neck instead.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”Let me taste.”

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

”Just let me taste,” he spat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You had no idea what the fuck was going on.

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

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

You and him were one and the same.

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

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

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

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

Shigaraki tsked in response.

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

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

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

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

Complete and undeniable proof that you belonged to him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck— the sounds.

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

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

There was blood, tinting the white mess pink.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shigaraki nearly came as you squirted all over the futon.

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

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

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

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

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

Refocusing his eyes he found the depraved scene before him.

It was enough to make his cock twitch again.

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

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

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

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

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

”Whatever you say boss.”

[yanderenightmare]

i love your hybrid au sm! the way you characterise each animal to suit not only it’s species, but the characters itself is so creative and nothing short of genius! so it got me thinking, how would you imagine the bnha characters as mythical creatures and monsters ??? ( eg. vampires, wendigos, harpies, werewolves ) etc.

Katsuki, Tomura, Hawks, Deku, Shoto, Dabi

TW: implied noncon, yandere, the supernatural?

gn reader

Shigaraki Tomura Ghost

You’ve moved into his old room, and though you furnish it a bit differently than he did when he was still alive, you’ve placed the bed in the exact same spot. It’s been all dust and dead moths up until now, it almost feels like he’s alive again as he sleeps next to your warm body.

It’s only small things in the beginning. Underwear that goes missing, unexplainable handprints on the foggy shower doors, your duvet on the floor even though you’ve never been one to kick it off in your sleep.

You’ve never been one to believe in the paranormal either, but something convinces you to search up the history of the house. You find out a boy had murdered his entire family here—parents, grandparents, his sister—and that the boy himself was never found.

Obviously, you shut your laptop with a bang and try and will it away from your mind. It happened years and years ago—whoever that boy was, he was long since dead. But the more it starts sinking in that you’re not alone, the more your belief feeds him—makes him feel real again, as though you’re slowly bringing him back to life.

Sometimes, you spot him in the mirror of your vanity, but when you twist around, there’s no one there. But you feel him—the gust of cold breath giving you goosebumps, the weight of hands and a chest pressing against yours at night, and the brush of coarse fingertips touching you in places—places that have you moaning his dead name.

Bakugou Katsuki Demonic spirit

He enjoys large houses—preferably something with a bit of history. But every now and again, some moronic humans decide it’s time to wreck the old and build something new—which means he’s often on the move.

He doesn’t mind living alone in his new house until you move in. He’s a little mad at you at first—he thinks you’re one of those wreckers, what with your renovations and whatnot—but then he understands that you’re preserving, not destroying. Apparently, the Gothic manor is your ancestral home built by one of your great-grandparents seven generations back in the 18th century—seems you were the only descendant who felt it was worthwhile to keep. 

He wouldn’t normally stay when someone else moved in—he’d often use his demonic means and scare them on their way. But with you, he settles for dwelling in the shadows, in the many dark rooms you haven’t found a use for yet. But when night comes, and you turn off the lights and go to bed, he can't help but end up in your room—watching you sleep, oh-so-peacefully and blissfully unaware of his presence. But he won’t do anything to you even though he could, even though you make it so easy—he’s grateful to you, his little housemate.

Your bedroom becomes awfully hot at night—you can’t explain it. Nor can you explain why the wind howling through the house sounds more like the groaning breaths of a beast. All you know is that your bed feels heavier than it should if you were the only one in it—and that you don’t dare twist around to see what it is sleeping next to you because whatever it might be, you don’t think it’s human.

You know it isn’t human. It’s too big to be, and its hands are too warm and too rough—and its claws too sharp where they rake into your skin and tuck you close to a chest that feels as though engulfs you. You don’t think it has a heart, only a stomach—and it sounds hungry.

You read up on sleep paralysis demons, and it brings you peace of mind, but only until night comes and you go to bed in wait. It’s the first time he talks to you. His laugh is like rusted clockwork, and his voice is like raked coals—hot and scratchy against your ear as he tells you how your human ways of rationalizing the things you don’t understand are cute and amusing.

Keigo Takami - Hawks Guardian Angel

Being a guardian angel has always been a fun hobby of his ever since the creation—he’s found it to be a nice break from all the other angelic duties he has bearing down his wings. Of course, it’s always sad when your human dies, but luckily, there’s always another one not far behind to steal your halo all over again.

You’re his most recent. He watches over you any minute he can spare, chuckling over all your silly human antics. And though he’s had plenty of humans before you in the long history of man and God, he can’t help but confess you’re his favorite so far. You’re just so cute with your big, adorable eyes and pretty smile.

He begins taking greater pride in his responsibility of being your guardian. He used to see it as but a menial little task he could take to when feeling up for a laugh, but something about you makes him want to watch over you every single second of every day.

And so he does—he has the feathers to spare, especially for something so important. But soon, simply watching over you doesn’t feel like enough anymore.

He knows it’s wrong—so very wrong—so much so he’s afraid he’ll be cast out if anyone were to find out. It’s not right for angels to feel amorous for humans—most would call it deviant and demonic. But he can’t help himself—watching you in your vulnerable state while you undress, bathe, and sleep.

Still, it doesn’t feel like enough.

Maybe he’ll come to visit you one of these days.

Midoriya Izuku - Deku Hybrid between fae and troll

He protects the forest and nurses all sick and wounded animals back to health, writing down the condition of trees and brushes in his notebook as he wanders for hours until he falls asleep in a moss bed beneath the stars. And though he knows his responsibility is purely to the forest, he can’t help but feel inclined to keep an eye on the little human who lives just beyond it. You’re just so cute with the way you walk the forest and sing songs you think no one hears—wearing your human clothing and living in your human abode behind walls and a door. He just finds it absolutely fascinating. 

Sometimes, you feel like there’s something following you when you walk about the forest next to your house. You’ll turn around to see a cluster of rocks and greenery you could have sworn weren’t there when you walked by—you look away before allowing yourself to think the pile looks an awfully lot similar to a larger human’s huddled form. But sometimes you hear it—the sound of stone scraping methodically, as though walking. You don’t humor the thought until you start finding his footprints outside your house, on the path to the forest—feet thrice the size of your own and sunken as though made by something very heavy.

Your legs go out from beneath you once you first see him—not like those times you’d turned around only for him to pretend to be part of the earth—this time, he’s pretending to be more like you, and it only makes it all that much worse. He’s bigger than a bear, grey-skinned with flecks that remind you of freckles and hair like fresh moss sprouts. His eyes are as green as the fox-fire fungi when night falls—glowing with nocturnal light. When you try to run, he follows suit, making the ground shake so bad it knocks you over. 

He carries you into the mountain where he lives and keeps you there from then on. After all, the part of him that’s fae has considered you his pet from the moment you took a bite of your first forest fruit. It was his gift to you whether you knew it or not, and now you’ll belong to him forever.

Todoroki Shoto Vampire

It’s an awfully boring world. Not much to do when you feel you’ve done it all twice over. The taste of blood has become stale no matter how many different types he drowns himself in at night. Sometimes, he humors the thought of setting his manor ablaze if only to watch the fire roar until the sun rears the top of the roof and finally puts him to eternal rest. But he’s been thinking about it for two or more centuries already, and he’s beginning to doubt his nerve.

Dead things can’t make vows, so he must go on as he decided to when he was still alive—that’s the curse—only another person can break it.

You seem doable enough when you stride into his manor with your little sharpened sticks and silver daggers. It’s been a while since a hunter has graced his presence. The scent of holy water makes him lick his fangs, and the nearly irresistible urge to drink you dry almost has him pouncing on you—but he knows it would be but a fleeting high unworth it in the end when he’d have to live another millennium without the warmth of the sun or another soul.

He drops down before you with grace. You have the tip of your silver dagger pointed up under his chin in the same second but get stunted by his pale porcelain face, showing no signs of aggression and rather riddled with a bleak sort of melancholy you’re not used to seeing on the godless creatures.

He simply stands there, straight-spined and high-headed, with his hands folded behind his back as though showing you respect—and then, unprompted and to your great surprise, asks if you would please make it quick and put him out of his misery.

Todoroki Touya - Dabi Hyrbid between incubi and vampire

He preys in nightclubs on those who have that mischievous glint in their eyes in dire hope their lust can match his. Every day, it’s a dozen new—he can never seem to find the right one—always starving and never sated no matter how much he gorges himself, always thirsting, always dying for more. 

Until you.

You’re but a dainty wallflower who doesn’t want to be there, but you have this scent about you—garden-fresh, like something he’s never smelled before, and his tongue yearns for a taste. He knows what it is once he gets closer to you—the opposite of sin of all things, it’s innocence, and oh, how he craves to devour it whole.

His silver tongue has had so much practice that using it on your gullible ears makes him all but drool, asking you if you’d like some fresh air. You nod your head, big eyes looking at him as though he were some sort of saint for offering. He laps it up—it’s all he can do to pace himself. But when he has you alone, it’s all over for you.

He’s going to corrupt every last piece of you until that once peachy keen taste of innocence has become an ever sweeter taste of syrupy sin. He’s going to make you exactly like him—and your tall fall from grace will leave you blasphemous and beautiful.

♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist