Enough To Go By (Chapter 4) - A Shigaraki X F!Reader Fic
Enough to Go By (Chapter 4) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic
Your best friend vanished on the same night his family was murdered, and even though the world forgot about him, you never did. When a chance encounter brings you back into contact with Shimura Tenko, you'll do anything to make sure you don't lose him again. Keep his secrets? Sure. Aid the League of Villains? Of course. Sacrifice everything? You would - but as the battle between the League of Villains and hero society unfolds, it becomes clear that everything is far more than you or anyone else imagined it would be. (cross-posted to Ao3)
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6
Chapter 4
You think about Tenko more now, but you’re allowed to – he’s your patient, and if he was your patient at the clinic, you’d expect to see him for a follow-up on the four gunshot wounds you cleaned and dressed. You’re allowed to think about him, so you think about him. You think about him a lot.
The thoughts take two directions. One is just wondering about him – how he’s feeling, how he spends his days, what he’s thinking about, what he thinks of you, whether he’s thought about you at all. The other is thinking about the situation he’s in. His parents and grandparents and his sister are dead. He’s been missing for fifteen years. He’s got a quirk and he’s a villain, ambitious and strategic enough to target UA High and escape alive, albeit badly injured. His guardian is a cloud of mist in a suit with some kind of split personality. And there’s someone else in his world – two someone elses. The doctor he referenced, who wouldn’t help him, and the one he calls Sensei, who gave him his new name and a hand to wear over his face and set him up to fail.
You think about Tenko a lot, but you can’t think about him all the time, because now that you’re a nurse, you’re twice as busy as you were before. The doctors expect more of you, and so do the other nurses – and so do the MAs and CNAs and high school students who are starting their apprenticeships, since you now have three years’ experience to go with your reputation for smoothing things over with difficult patients. Your friends keep you busy, too. They might call Kazuo to find out if something’s wrong with them, but they call you to find out what to do about it.
“You need to get a scan,” you say to Yoshimi for probably the fifth time. “I know you don’t want to –”
“It’s weird!”
“Not any weirder than whatever Yoji does when the two of you are at second base,” you say, and in the background of the call, someone snickers. If you had to guess, you’d say it’s Mitsuko – she has the guts to bully Yoshimi into making the call, combined with the brass balls to feel comfortable eavesdropping. “It’s called a mammogram. You’d have to start getting them at some point anyway, just like we all do. It’s just to make sure there’s nothing weird going on.”
“Stop it. You’re freaking her out for no reason.” Yoji’s there, too. “It’s probably just an STD.”
You’re stunned into silence for a second by the sheer classlessness of saying that about one’s own girlfriend, but you bounce back fast. “First of all, they’re called STIs, genius. Secondly, there’s not an STI on the planet that gives you nipple discharge. Yoshimi, get the scan. I’ll go with you if you want. Just get it done.”
“Can I do it at your clinic?”
“Uh –” You glance at the Imaging queue. Things look quiet, but you can’t count on that to last – but if you report Yoshimi’s symptoms, which include soreness, nipple discharge, and what she describes as a weird rash, you’re pretty sure the doctor on call will bump her to the head of the line. “Yeah, come in now. I can’t stick around after my shift, though. I have stuff to do tonight.”
“Ooh, stuff. Let me see –” There’s some rustling, which you can only assume is Mitsuko grabbing the phone. “Is stuff tall, dark, handsome, way too serious, and currently working as a sidekick?”
“That would be stuff,” you admit. “It’s not a big deal. We’re just grabbing a drink after our shifts.”
For the first time since you and Kazuo broke up, you have a date, and it’s Kazuo’s fault. Or maybe it’s you and your friends’ fault, because you decided to throw Kazuo a twentieth birthday party and invited a few of his friends from UA. One of those friends is Sugimura Hiroki, who fits perfectly with your type of dark-haired boys who want to be heroes and who’s so painfully shy that it took him six beers and the entire party to talk to you. You were sort of weirded out by that. You’re not very intimidating, and you spent the first half of the conversation trying to figure out if he knew you were quirkless, since you learned the hard way that it’s something you need to disclose up front. But the two of you eventually worked your way around to the point, which was that Sugimura wants to get to know you better, and he tripped over his tongue so badly that you finally just asked him out to end the suspense.
It’s taken you a while to actually schedule the date, but tonight’s the night, and you’re sort of anxious about it. Luckily, work is busy enough to keep you distracted. Your lunch break ends while Mitsuko is still going into increasingly nasty speculations about Sugimura’s physical attributes, and you hang up the phone without saying goodbye.
There’s a message waiting for you on your computer, from the front desk. FOF. Can you take him?
It’s not Tenko. You know Tenko wouldn’t come here again. You send the same message you did when it was him. How F are we talking?
Jumpy, talking to himself, chainsmoking. He’s in costume.
“In costume” could literally mean that the patient’s wearing a costume, but it’s also code for when the front desk thinks the patient’s a villain. You’re used to dealing with villains by now. Send him back.
When the knock on the door comes, you’re ready and waiting, and the CNA ushers in a tall man in a black-and-grey bodysuit – so “in costume” was literal this time around – and a paper bag over his head. You’re momentarily transfixed by the paper bag, and more so when you realize that he’s bringing a lighted cigarette to his mouth while wearing something highly flammable on his face. The CNA shuts the door and bolts. You face your patient and introduce yourself. “Have a seat if you feel comfortable doing so. What brings you in today?”
“I’m not – whole.”
That’s concerning. “Are you injured?” Your concern grows when he gestures at his face. “It would really help if I could see the injury. Can you take the bag off?”
He shakes his head. Instead he reaches into his pocket and produces a torn full-face mask. You look at him, then at him, putting the pieces together. “How do you feel right now?”
He doesn’t answer – maybe can’t answer – so you default to the face chart you use when little kids aren’t able to express how they feel in words. Your patient points to scared, stressed, anxious, angry. Then he throws in happy, possibly to mess with you, or to distract you from the fact that the first four emotions indicate that he’s ready to snap at any second. “How about this?” you ask, after thinking it over. “I can ask the doctor to give you something that will help you calm down –”
“Please!” The patient bursts out. Drug-seeking? “No, I don’t need it, sister! I’m so calm it’s hard to believe.”
“Okay, then we’ll just have it here in case you decide you want it. As an option,” you say, keeping your voice smooth and calm. “Either way, this is a quiet place to wait. You’re safe in here with me. And if you want, I can sew up your mask for you. Would that help?”
“You can do that?”
“Easily,” you say. “Can I see it for a second? I need to make sure I grab the right thread.”
The patient hands the mask over, which is a good sign. You’ve established at least a little bit of trust. You examine the mask and decide that you’ll need the thinnest-gauge needle and thread you have. “I can definitely fix this,” you tell the patient. “It might look a little rough, but it’ll cover you up like it did before. And it should last until you get where you’re going.”
The patient nods. You stand up. “I’m going to get some supplies, and a little anxiety medication if you decide you want it. I’ll be right back, okay? Just wait here.”
The patient nods again. Given how labile his mood is, you need to be fast about this, and get back before he gets upset or decides to leave. You step out the door and shut it behind you, heading for the supply closet, but you’re waylaid on the way there by one of the doctors. “We need you up front. Now.”
“I can’t. I have a patient, and he’s –”
“I don’t care. We’ve got a hero coming to visit, and we need somebody to keep things calm,” the doctor says. Shit. “Figure out what they want, get them as little of it as you can get away with, and get them out of here.”
“Which hero?”
The doctor shakes his head. Great. “Just hurry.”
You can’t go just yet. “My patient’s got a lot of anxiety and he’s in costume. I need him to stay calm. Can you –”
“2mg diazepam. I’ll put it in the chart.” The doctor unlocks one of the medicine cabinets, extracts a prefilled dosage cup, and hands it to you. “Go.”
Diazepam is long-acting. Hopefully long-acting enough to keep your patient quiet while you get rid of the hero. You skitter back down the hall with the dosage cup and hand it over to the patient, along with a tiny bottle of water to wash it down. “I’ll be right back. Just finding the right thread.”
The patient downs the pill dry, which is both good and bad for you. You shut the door again and head for the lobby. You don’t make it there. A cloud of black mist boils up around you, swallowing you whole.
By the time your feet hit the familiar wooden floor of the bar, you’re already out of patience. “No. Send me back right now.”
“Shigaraki Tomura has need of you. You will assist him.”
“Not right now I won’t. You snatched me from work,” you say. You’re facing the wall and the All Might poster again, and you don’t want to turn around. If you see Tenko, it’ll make it harder to say no. “If I go missing, people will notice. Is he dying?”
“No,” Kurogiri says.
“Is he in imminent danger of dying?”
“No.”
“Then send me back,” you say. If Tenko’s asked Kurogiri to get you, it means he needs medical assistance – or follow-up. You’ve needed to follow up anyway. “I can come back later.”
“No, I need you right now!”
“How much later?” Kurogiri asks, ignoring Tenko’s protest.
You think it over. You can dispense with the hero situation quickly, stitch your patient’s mask, and sneak out of work early. They’ll have to give you the emergency time off. You’ve never asked before in three years of working there. “Ninety minutes.”
“That’s too long. Kurogiri, don’t let her leave!”
“Ninety minutes. I’ll be in the alley behind the clinic.” You ignore Tenko, too, in favor of focusing on Kurogiri. He’s the one who decides if you leave or not. “All right?”
The mist wells up around you again, which counts as a yes. You land on your feet in the hallway, reorient yourself, and head for the lobby again. Tenko wants you again – needs you, your stupid brain corrects – but he’s going to have to wait for you to sort this out.
The hero in the lobby is Uwabami, the Snake Hero, and she’s got two sidekicks with her. No, students. You recognize one of them from your limited viewing of the UA Sports Festival and feel a spike of guilt run through you. She’s from Class 1-A. The same class Tenko tried to kill.
You don’t need to think about that, and you don’t need to feel guilty, because you didn’t do anything to her. You force yourself to focus. Uwabami wouldn’t have brought high school students here if she was doing any kind of investigating, which means your patient and any others who might be nervous around law enforcement are probably safe. The question of why she’s here still remains. You step forward. “Welcome to Yokohama Free Clinic South. What can we help you with today?”
“We’re on patrol,” Uwabami says. “My interns gave some feedback that our patrol involved a little too much publicity –”
The students look unrepentant. Good for them. “So we’re engaging in some down-to-earth patrolling,” Uwabami continues. “Tell us about how heroes support your clinic.”
Heroes don’t support your clinic. Most heroes strongly dislike the free clinic network, and the feeling is mutual, for a bunch of reasons you’re more than willing to articulate. Then you think better of it. Picking a fight with a hero in front of hero students is a bad move if you want to get out of here any time soon, and if you’re going to keep helping Tenko, you need to stay completely off the heroic radar. You focus on the students instead. “You’re on internships, right? They’re supposed to show you what life will be like as a hero.”
“Yes,” the girl who’s not from 1-A says. “They’re supposed to.”
“We have a program like that here, too,” you say. You gesture for them to come forward, and they desert their supervising hero at high speed. “A lot of our nurses and techs started working here in high school. Let me introduce you.”
You’re on much more solid ground talking about this. This clinic and this program saved your ass – without their sponsorship, you’d never have been able to get around your quirklessness as a barrier to nursing school, and you started getting on-the-job clinical training while most other nursing students were stuck in the classroom. You catch yourself evangelizing a little bit, but you don’t think it’s the worst thing in the world to do. You’re proud of the work you do as part of the clinic. It’s nice to get to talk about it.
You clear the hero students out in half an hour, hoping you’ve impressed them even a little bit, then hurry back to your patient. The diazepam’s kicked in nicely, and he chatters away to you while you stitch the tear in his mask. You learn that his name is Jin, or Bubaigawara, or Twice, which you’d guess are his first name, his family name, and his villain name, in that order. He doesn’t say how his mask got torn and you don’t ask, but you send him on his way in a better mood than before. “Thanks, sister,” he says on his way out the door. “You could be worse. You’re a saint!”
Different tone, different pitch, completely different meaning between the first sentence and the second. It reminds you of Kurogiri. You know enough villains now that you can compare them to one another. You shake your head, bemused, then head back inside. Time to guilt-trip your boss into letting you leave two hours early.
Your guilt-trip is successful, mostly because of how you handled the hero situation, but as you’re trying to sneak out, Yoshimi arrives for her scan. After you cajoled her into the office, you can’t abandon her to some random tech. You do abandon Mitsuko in the waiting room, though – she says the words “nipple discharge” as loudly as possible, then starts picking on the scant amount of makeup you did for your date. You don’t feel bad at all for leaving her behind.
Yoshimi’s scan goes quickly, and just like you feared, it nets her a follow-up appointment at the main branch of the free clinic tomorrow. Tomorrow’s your day off. You promise her you’ll go with her – you, and not Mitsuko or Yoji – then talk the doctor into sending her home with a dose of a different anti-anxiety medication than the one you got for Twice. Then you check your phone for the time. Almost ninety minutes exactly. You race out to the alley.
The mist engulfs you almost the instant you set foot in the alley, and you’re in the bar a moment later, facing Kurogiri. Tenko’s nowhere to be found, and before you can ask the question, Kurogiri turns and sets off through a doorway, deeper into the recesses of the building. You follow him, wondering if this counts as being taken to a secondary location. Or maybe the bar counts as the secondary location, even though you’ve been here before. Either way, you’ve listened to way too many of Mitsuru’s true-crime podcasts.
Kurogiri leads you into an absolutely filthy room. The floor is covered – empty wrappers, empty cans, old newspapers and magazines, plastic cases for game disks and chips. You have a bad feeling about who lives here, and when Kurogiri clears his throat and speaks up, you’re proven right. “Shigaraki Tomura. I have brought the girl.”
The only semi-organized spot in the room is a desk with two monitors on it, a keyboard in front of it, and Tenko slumped down with his head pillowed on one arm. He looks up, and for a split second, you can see that he’s happy even behind the hand. Then his face turns bright red and his expression twists into a snarl. “I told you not to bring her in here! Get out!”
You don’t need to be told twice. You duck out the door and retreat about twenty feet down the hallway, listening as Kurogiri tries to placate Tenko. “You asked for her to be brought to you immediately, not for me to summon you when she arrived. I followed your orders to the letter.”
“I didn’t want –” Tenko breaks off, swears. Then he mumbles something, and Kurogiri chuckles. “Don’t laugh at me!”
You check your phone. You aren’t supposed to meet Sugimura until eight, but you’ve got no idea how long this particular encounter is going to run. You might need to tell him you’re running late. You’ve just sent the text and tucked your phone away when Kurogiri reappears. “We will return to the bar,” he says. “Shigaraki Tomura awaits you there.”
So Kurogiri warped him to the bar. You wonder what that was all about. Was Tenko embarrassed that you saw how filthy his room was, or just embarrassed that you saw his room at all? Or did he change his mind about wanting you here? The last thought upsets you. You follow Kurogiri back into the bar and find Tenko sitting at the counter. It’s an improvement from the last time you saw him, when he was sprawled out and bleeding from four gunshot wounds, but this time he’s got his arms crossed, clearly pissed about something. His face is still red behind the hand. There’s a bloodstained bandage taped to his right shoulder.
A pile of supplies appears on the bar as you come closer. “What happened this time?”
“It wouldn’t stop bleeding.” Tenko uncrosses his left arm to gesture at the wound. “This is the fourth one I’ve used.”
If he’s gone through four bandages, it must be pretty deep. “How long ago did it happen?”
“Two hours,” Kurogiri says. “Shigaraki Tomura sent me to retrieve you immediately.”
“Can you fix it or not?” Tenko snaps.
“I need to see it first,” you say. You come a few steps closer, sit down facing Tenko on the barstool next to his, and reach for the bandage. He doesn’t stop you from unwrapping it, and you detour to glove up before you start peeling the fabric of his shirt back from the wound. It’s oozing blood rapidly. It’s jagged at the edges, and deep – if you suctioned the blood away, you’d be looking at exposed muscle, and you’re so horrified by the fact that Tenko’s been badly hurt again that you ask a question you shouldn’t. “How did this happen?”
“Hero Killer,” Tenko says, and your stomach lurches. “I thought he might be useful, but he’s just like the rest of them. Obsessed with the precious Symbol of Peace.”
You don’t know very much about the Hero Killer, except that he kills or cripples heroes and he’s not in Yokohama any longer. Tenko’s still ranting. “Why can’t anybody shut up about All Might? Don’t they know –”
“That he’s not gonna fuck them?” you interrupt, and Tenko nearly chokes. “I guess they can dream.”
Tenko’s expression is contorting behind the hand. You’re pretty sure it’s not the result of your explorations of the wound, because you’re not touching it. You watch, concerned, as his shoulders shake and his mouth twitches, until awkward, rusty laughter finally issues from his mouth.
You always try to make people laugh. You’ve been in the habit since you were little. It’s an effective strategy for defusing tension, whether the joke is funny or not, and your jokes are usually at least kind of funny. But you always liked making Tenko laugh when you were kids. You were always just a little prouder of that than you were with other people. Tenko made people smile all the time. He deserved for somebody to make him laugh, too.
Tenko’s laughter is brief and uneven, because he’s trying to get it under control. “Stop it,” he finally snaps at you. His mouth is still twitching. “It’s serious.”
“Right,” you agree. But you can’t resist another joke. “It would be a novel strategy. If you can’t beat the Symbol of Peace, make him unfuckable instead.”
“I can beat him,” Tenko says, but his voice is strained to the point of snapping, and his shoulders are shaking again. “Can you fix my arm or not?”
“I can fix it,” you say, “but I’ll need a suture kit. And I’ll either need to cut your sleeve or you’ll need to take your shirt off.”
“I’m not taking my shirt off.” Tenko’s face is red again. “It’s ruined anyway. Just cut it.”
You cut his sleeve open from the neckline and peel it back, then go looking through the medical supplies. Kurogiri took your advice about additions to their supplies, and nothing turned up missing at work, which means they honored your request to steal from someone else. You’ve got local anesthetic this time, which is good, because you need it. You start numbing the edges of the wound, asking every so often if Tenko can feel what you’re doing. When he stops saying yes, you open the suture kit.
It’s a bit weird, but putting stitches in is one of your favorite parts of the job. You can get in the zone with it, even when the patient wants to talk. Tenko wants to talk. “People talk about the League of Villains out there. Don’t they?” he asks. You nod. “What do they say?”
“Um –” You’re not sure this is an answer Tenko wants to hear. “They’re wondering why the attack on UA happened.”
“What do you mean, why?”
“Like, if there was a message behind it,” you elaborate. You need to be careful, with the stitches and with this line of thought. “More than just killing All Might, because lots of villains want to do that. If there was a message, it didn’t get out. The police and UA haven’t shared much information – not even how the breach happened in the first place.”
Tenko scoffs. “They don’t have a clue. They won’t see it coming the next time we hit them, either.”
He’s planning something else. Your blood runs cold, and for a moment you’re torn about whether or not to ask. Tenko makes the decision for you. “What else do they say about the League?”
“Not very much, otherwise,” you say, and Tenko swears. “There are a lot of villains, just like there are a lot of heroes. People talk about the ones they see the most of.”
“Which heroes do you talk about?”
“I don’t really talk about heroes.” You tie off a stitch, trim the thread to the appropriate length, and take another. “One of my friends has this nasty crush on Endeavor, so we talk about him sometimes, but otherwise – no.”
“Your friend has a crush on Endeavor,” Tenko repeats.
“Like I said. Nasty.”
You’re conscious of Tenko staring at you, and you will your face not to heat up under his gaze. You don’t even know why he’s staring, and you’ve got stitches to do, so it doesn’t matter. Your phone buzzes in your pocket – probably Sugimura, probably confirming your date. A date you’re not sure you want to go on anymore. Did you ever really want to go on it? Or did you just say yes because –
“You look weird.”
You look up from the stitches, startled. “Huh?”
“You look weird,” Tenko repeats. “Your clothes are different and you’ve got stuff on your face.”
Tenko and Mitsuko feel the same about your makeup skills, apparently. “Sorry.”
“Why do you look like that?” Tenko presses. You tie off his next stitch. “Are you going on a date or something?”
You answer without thinking about whether it’s the smart thing to do. “Yes.”
It’s quiet for a long stretch of seconds. “Go on your date, then,” Tenko says. His voice is flat. “I don’t need you.”
It stings. You don’t want it to, but it does, and you look down at the cut on his shoulder so he won’t see it on your face. “You still need a few more stitches. At least let me finish them.”
“No. Get out.” Tenko jerks out of your grip. You barely have enough time to cut the hanging thread on your last stitch. “I don’t want you here. Kurogiri –”
“Shigaraki Tomura, I’m not sure that’s wise.”
“I didn’t ask you!” Tenko swats at you open-handed and you leap backwards. “Get out! I don’t –”
You don’t hear the end of that sentence. Kurogiri warps you away too fast, and possibly saves your life. He drops you back in the alley behind the clinic, holding half a suture kit and still wearing bloodstained gloves. You peel them off and dump them into the garbage, furious with yourself. You shouldn’t have said that. You shouldn’t have talked about your life at all, and above all else, you should have remembered that you were talking to a villain, not your best friend – that whatever’s left of your best friend isn’t enough. He’s angry with you, and he’s been having you followed. Just how angry is he? Angry enough to hurt you? Or angry enough to never talk to you again?
You’re sickened and more than a little scared to realize that you’re more frightened of the latter possibility than the former. It’s entirely possible that you’ve never been in less of a mood to go on a date.
But you do go on the date, because you said you would, and it’s – fine. There’s nothing to complain about, but there’s nothing to be excited about, either. You and Sugimura hug to say goodbye, and you promise to text each other about setting up another one, and then you walk home. Mitsuko texts you, wanting details, or DETAILS, but you’ve got nothing to share. It was just a date, and no matter how many times you try to tell yourself otherwise, you’re angry about it.
Not because of Sugimura asking you out, not because you agreed, not because you went. Because you told Tenko and gave him a reason to get rid of you. Why does this keep happening? Why do you keep finding him and losing him, over and over again? What is it going to take for you to hold on?
“So how was the date?”
The voice emanates from the alleyway on your right and you nearly jump out of your skin. Tenko’s there, hand down from over his face, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. He hasn’t changed his shirt. “I didn’t think heroes were your type.”
“They aren’t.”
“Then why were you on a date with one?”
“He asked.”
“And you just go with whoever asks?” Tenko looks half-incredulous, half-disgusted. You shake your head. “Forget it. Come with me.”
You shake your head again and take a step back – away from the alley, closer to the street. Tenko looks frustrated. “Come with me,” he repeats.
“What, so you can kill me?” You take another step back, well into the glow of a streetlight. You see shock flicker across Tenko’s face. “I don’t have a death wish.”
“Well, I don’t want to kill you,” Tenko fires back. He looks surprised at himself for saying it, but only for a moment – then he repeats himself, with more conviction. “I don’t want to kill you. You’re supposed to be my sidekick.”
Your jaw drops. “You remember?”
“I don’t remember everything.” Tenko takes the hand called Father out of the back pocket of his pants and studies it for a moment. Then he puts it away. “I remember that.”
Some kids played a different game every day. You and Tenko always played the same one, with a rotating cast of classmates at your side. All the heroes in the world were working together to fight one big villain, the worst villain the world had ever seen, and Tenko could never decide which hero he liked best, so he played a different one every day. But no matter which hero he played, no matter who else was playing with the two of you, you were always his sidekick. You reminded him every day that you didn’t have a quirk, and he always said the same thing in response, no matter which hero he was pretending to be that day, even though he didn’t have a quirk, either: You don’t need a quirk to be on my side. My quirk’s enough for both of us.
“Come on,” Tenko says again. He holds out his hand, three fingers and his thumb folded down, his pinky finger extended towards you. “Are you coming or what?”
You’ve never seen the world in black and white, but some things are unmistakable: There’s a line here, not visible to others but clear as day to you. On one side of it is Tenko and the darkness that’s swallowed him, the evil that surrounds him, the terrible things he’s done and is planning to do. On the other side is everything else – your dreams, your friends, your family that’s always loved you but used you anyway, a world that’s punished you time and time again for being born without a quirk, the knowledge that the world is so much crueler to so many others. You don’t think Tenko’s planning to kidnap you, to never let you leave. You’ll come back here, physically. You’ll go home and go to sleep and wake up early on your day off to take Yoshimi to her appointment at the main clinic, but you know instinctively that if you cross this line within yourself, there’s no coming back. Tenko was your best friend when you were five years old. Is he worth it?
You hate yourself for asking the question. You leave the light behind and link your finger with Tenko’s. “Where are we going?”
The black mist rises and wells up around you both. “You’ll see,” Tenko says, and for the first time since you found him again, he smiles.
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You’d absolutely lost the class registration lottery. After days, even weeks of agonizing over what classes filled which requirements and yet still gave you enough wiggle room to have your off days, you were exhausted. Everything was planned to a tee, and your dismayed face was evident as you told your roommate the dreadful news.
“I have to take a dance class! A partner dancing class! I might as well drop out,” you cry forlornly, looking at Nejire’s baby blue rug in frustration.
“It can’t be that bad! I mean, at least the professor’s good, right? Nemuri Kayama, I think. She’s one of the best; you’re in good hands,” your friend pets your head softly before leaping onto her plush bed, “maybe you’ll even dance with someone cute! You should keep your head high.”
“...Well, I guess. If I’m with a creep, I’m gonna be so annoyed! How are you so positive?”
Nejire seems to think over her answer before giving you a teasing grin, “because I got the schedule I wanted.”
“Nejire!”
She’d reassured you she was just joking, but it was true. If you were in her position, you’re sure you’d be glad to have everything work out how you want it to. Sucking it up, you were determined not to let a stupid class ruin your well-earned GPA. You don your best comfy clothes and arrive ten minutes early at the studio.
A couple of people are hanging out in the studio, and there’s a pleasant buzz of chatter while you sit. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. People continued trickling in, and before you could realize it, your professor clapped her hands.
“Good morning, everyone!”
Your face burns a bit hot, was she supposed to wear such tight (and revealing!) clothing? She quickly introduces herself even with all the muttering, “I hope today goes as well for you as it does for me, and I want you to all know that this class will excite you, will make you feel, and most importantly is a lot of fun!”
Everyone around you seems to be either drinking in your professor’s appearance or wondering if they should drop the class; you’re thinking the latter, too, until she drops a bomb on the students.
“You’re all too uptight! You know what? Partner up!”
It feels like you’re about to faint. Looking left, people are making eyes and nodding at each other. Looking right, it’s the same thing, and your heart stops at the realization that you don’t have a partner. There’s so much chatter and commotion as people enter the room to find a clear spot for this cruel icebreaker.
“Does anyone not have a partner?”
You almost don’t raise your hand, but you have to. Red-hot shame is coursing through your veins. Could this get any worse?
Thankfully, a lanky and pale arm shoots into the sky alongside yours. Before you know it, Nemuri pushes you two toward each other and moves on to the assignment.
“First, say hello. These will be your partners for the rest of the semester, so make sure you like them! I know some of you are gonna date outside of class, and don’t get handsy over there!”
He’s very tall. You have to actually look up at his grumpy face to see him. His hair falls flat, looks damaged, and your cheek twitches. He’s not ugly! If he cared for his hair and maybe got more sleep… dare you say it, he could be cute.
Shigaraki towers over you easily, eyes raking your form (noting that he can see your perky tits in your bra from this advantage.) You look alright, but he’s getting the feeling that you think he’s weird, “you can stop looking at me like an animal.”
“I wasn’t! I really wasn’t,” you offer your hand and introduce yourself, “I really like your skull necklace!”
It feels like a ruse, and Shigaraki reluctantly takes your hand with a bored face, “I’m Shigaraki. Thanks.”
While others seemed to be faring better with their partners, it feels off-putting that he won’t even try to converse with you. If he’s going to have his hands on you, how could he act so cold!?
“Well, jeez. Don’t try to say it all at once,” you mumble sourly, to which your partner scoffs.
“It’s just a class. It’s not even important.”
“It’s important to me,” and you don’t like this guy.
“Then maybe you should find a different partner.”
You look like a kicked puppy when he says that, but he doesn’t take it back and mentally stews in his harshness. Maybe he should make a better effort… you were cute, he supposed. You had great tits, and you complimented his necklace.
Turning back to Nemuri, you can’t think of anything to say to that. Even though you don’t know him, it still stings a bit and your confidence leaks. Were you really that down on your luck?
Nemuri begins, telling each duo to get in a typical slow-dance pose for fun and to “get to know each other more.” It’s starting to get a little creepy, but you wind your arms around Shigaraki’s shoulders anyways. He rests his hands casually on your waist but doesn’t hold you like others.
“Aren’t you supposed to hold my waist?”
He snickers, “do you want me to?”
Trying to talk to this man is pointless, but you almost smile at his response anyway.
“Just don’t be weird!”
“No promises,” and he’s glad to see you smile at his pervertedness.
Shigaraki decides to be nicer right then and there, in his own way.
Nemuri instructs you to casually slow dance and continue conversing; she even adds music to jazz up the class, which surprisingly works. Your nerves are melting away like butter, and Shigaraki seems to have mildly warmed up to you.
“So… Do you like to dance?”
“Fuck no.”
His bluntness makes you giggle, “yeah, me either. Except at, like, parties. But I wouldn’t really call it dancing!”
“You go to parties?”
“Sometimes! I have a lot of friends who go, so it’s like an outing every time! Do you go to parties?”
It feels kind of dumb to ask that question. No offense to him, but you’re already suspecting his answer before he gives it. He twirls you, and you feel a rush of butterflies.
“Not really. People don’t want a zombie dude at their parties,” his voice is gravelly but smooth, “but I’ve been to a few.”
“They’re fun!”
Before you can continue finding common ground, Nemuri is hollering about reading the syllabus and upcoming material you’ll cover. Shigaraki quickly gets his hands off you, and your heart aches.
“Hey, do you want to exchange social media?”
He’s already got his bag halfway on your shoulder, giving you an unimpressed look.
“I don’t use social media,” and he shuffles even closer to the parade of students exiting the lecture hall.
“Oh. Well, your number?”
You feel yourself grow hot when all he does is smirk and input your digits into his phone.
“There, do you need anything else?”
What happened to the Shigaraki from a few minutes ago? He seems to be in a rush, but you can’t help but feel hurt by his mood swings. Was he always going to be this irritable? Was he going to be someone you could count on in this class?
“...I guess not. Bye.”
He’s out of the room before you realize it, gingerly grabbing your stuff and worrying your lip. This class would be a piece of work, and you couldn’t find your footing so far. Maybe you should just drop it? But you really need that humanities credit and…
“It’s Nejire! Pick up the phone!”
Nejire’s self-imposed ringtone is heard through your AirPods. The stress is already leaking out of your body just hearing her voice. If you had a girlfriend, she’d be it. You answer cheerily, “hey!”
“Hey! Are you coming back from class right now?”
“Yeah, I just got out. You have to hear about this; my partner sucks!”
Well… you’re embellishing. He doesn’t suck, but he’s not great.
“Aw man, really? I can’t believe it! I thought for sure it was gonna go okay….”
“It’s whatever! I’m over it,” you weren’t. “Why’d you call?”
“Oh! If you’re up for it, Phi Psi is having a party tonight! Do you wanna go?”
Hmm, ironic since you were just talking about parties. Maybe it’d be nice, and perhaps it’d be good to let loose for a couple of hours. The memory of Shigaraki telling you that he goes to some parties replays in your mind, but you try to ignore it.
“Sure! We can go. What’s the theme?”
Pajamas, she’d said. You know that your silk sleep set is more lingerie than anything else, but your nerves are buzzing with pre-gamed shots of vodka and the promise of attractive people buttering you up. Looking around, it’s a typical college party, and you’re already feeling warm from how guys eye you like you’re the hottest thing there.
Shigaraki thinks so and turns the corner, missing your flushed wandering eyes.
“We needa dance!”
Nejire babbles excitedly, Mirio accompanying her while she clutches your bicep.
“Mhm, mhm! Let me get another drink first!”
Mirio keeps Nejire’s legs from buckling and smiles, “we’ll be right here!”
You weave in and out of people, vision getting hazier and every touch feeling electric. A man starts pouring your drink, giving you a dazzling smile. He opens his mouth to talk, but you’re suddenly caged against the fence and face to face with Shigaraki’s chest.
“Wha?”
“Hey.”
He watches you search his eyes for a minute, teetering slightly as you sip the mix of alcohol and punch. Then, there’s remembrance, and you’re leaping joyfully into his chest. It feels… nice, and he gingerly pats your back before steadying you on the balls of your feet.
“Hey! I didn’t know you were going to be here. My friends are over there,” you point past his shoulder, and he sees a guy chasing a girl around, “hiii, Nejire!”
You’re pretty cute when you’re drunk, elongating words and joy coming out of you like a waterfall. A dainty hand grabs a bony one, and you’re about to drag Shigaraki toward your friends to “meet them!”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” harsher than he meant to, he rips his hand away, “how drunk are you?”
You give an offended huff, “I’m not drunk! I only had a c-oop! A couple of shots! And this drink! It’s not even a lot….”
Shigaraki feels tempted to be childish and poke fun at you. Boop your nose and pull your hair, but you’re suddenly lost in thought and fascinated with your slippers.
“You look drunk.”
“Well, ’m not. I don’t even know why I’m talking to you right now,” and you’re suddenly invigorated and wanting to seek out your friends, but the first step sends you wobbling right into Shigaraki.
The boy yelps, hands gripping your shoulders and steadying you, “watch it!”
“Let go of me!”
Some onlookers look on, peering eyes, and boys puffing their chests out in case they need to step in. Shigaraki’s mind goes blank, and all he can think of is that you’re so fucking annoying, and why does he still want to help you?
Why did he think of you while fucking his fist in bed last night? He shushes you and crosses his arms.
“Do you want to walk home by yourself?”
You look like a child, happily saying” yes” and nodding proudly. Unfortunately, Shigaraki’s plan failed; you were too happy to wander off alone. He’s reminded of a time when people used to call him creepy when he was smaller and more bug-eyed.
“Oh, okay. Sure, get murdered. See if I care.”
This makes you react like you’re actually thinking about the consequences now. Mulling it over, you chew the inside of your lip and let your head roll back against the fence.
“...Well, I don’t wanna be murdered….”
“Then let me take you home.”
“Since when are you nice?!”
It may sting a bit, but he shows no emotion. He takes a calm breath and blows the air out through his nostrils. There are no words at first, and you’re looking at him with a glint in your eye, and he wonders what you look like when you laugh. When you cry or when you get really excited.
“You don’t even care about me.”
“... You’re my dance partner.”
He’s sure his heart overrode his brain. There’s no way he could say something so cheesy. It makes your heart pound; what did he mean by that? Your drunk brain couldn’t decipher how he presented his feelings, but then he was offering you a hand like a prince.
You never thought you’d call Shigaraki prince-like, and you’re worried that this might spiral out of control soon. Letting him lead you away, you figure that that’s definitely what will happen.
“Who’s room is…?”
Shigaraki has no idea and frankly can’t be bothered to care that he’s stumbling into a random frat guy’s room, “don’t know. Don’t really care?”
He tries to take your shoes off at least, but you’re unceremoniously dropping yourself onto the bed like a fish out of water. Shigaraki feels his cheek twitch in annoyance, and then you’re turning your head with a jutted lip.
“Are you gonna lie?”
“Am I going to what?”
He assures himself you’re too drunk to understand what you’re saying. There’s no reason for you to ask that other than the need to not be alone. You’d never ask that because you genuinely wanted, no, trusted Shigaraki to stay with you. He’d never believe it, but his feet carried him to the edge of the bed, and then he sank into the soft mattress.
It’s quiet, maybe too quiet. The music’s bass thrums through the floors, but all Shigaraki can hear is your soft breath. He doesn’t even realize you’re looking at him in the dimness of his room until he turns his head. His breath catches in his throat. Have you always been so pretty?
The alcohol makes you too sleepy too fast, and it feels like this moment is slipping away from you like you’re trying to cup water in your hands. It’s leaking out of you, and then his red eyes lock onto yours.
“Why don’t you like me?”
“What do you mean,” and it comes out almost wounded.
“I-hic. I mean, like, when you suddenly act so… mean.”
For the first time in a long time, Shigaraki feels rendered speechless. He wants to jump up and run out of the room like the child he once was, but he can’t find the strength to pull away from your gaze.
“...I don’t know.”
“Why?”
“I just don’t,” and he finally breaks eye contact to look through the window behind you, “you don’t have to pity me, then.”
“I don’t!”
The end of your words slurs, and you know you’ll lose yourself to the intoxicating feelings of sleep soon.
“I just… I want to like you.”
“Like me?”
You smile widely before you lean forward and press a kiss to his nose. He even goes cross-eyed to try and follow your movements.
“You’re kinda… cute. But, you’re mean. So just be nice! Okay?”
He’s not even sure why he goes along with it.
“Okay.”
Your eyes close, and for a second, he thinks he’s finally free from this impromptu analysis of… well, him. But, you beat him to the chase and whisper quietly.
“I meant it.”
“What?”
“That you’re cute.”
One eye peeks open when he doesn’t respond, and the embarrassment that should be there is only replaced with pure elatedness. His eyes sparkled a bit more. It makes you think that you should compliment him more. You shut your eyes.
“You’re going to be embarrassed tomorrow.”
Maybe he waited too long, but all he knows is that your soft snores escape you quickly, and his heart warms at the sound. It shouldn’t, but it does. He falls asleep shortly after and dreams of a faceless girl who dances with him all night. The girl always keeps smiling at him no matter how stiff he is.
It’s a beautiful dream.
-
Shigaraki’s kind enough to shake you awake just past dawn, and the splitting headache doesn’t make the visual of him leaning over you with a gentle hand easier to see.
“Hey. Wake up. Some frat dude is gonna yell at you.”
The idea of someone barging in makes you move to sit up and groan, “do you have any water?”
“No. Get up, hurry,” and he’s tugging you off the bed.
It was a bad idea, your sleep-addled brain lagging and causing you to flop directly into a firm chest, “watch out!”
“I’m sorry! I’m barely awake,” and it comes out like a whine, “can we get water?”
You almost think he’ll say no, tell you to fuck off and get water yourself. But, he makes a move you would’ve never expected, calmly lacing his hand with yours and steadying you on your feet.
“Fine, let’s just get going already.”
Was this the Shigaraki you’d met? Had he been replaced by a clone that happened to be identical to the tone of voice? The feeling of a bony hand in yours is unreal. You can hardly take your eyes off the entanglement while Shigaraki urges you to come down the stairs faster than you are.
“Are you listening to me?”
“Did I say something weird last night?”
It comes out in a whisper, and Shigaraki feels like going to college was a huge mistake when he pulls his hand away and holds it close to himself like you’re injured. Like he injured you.
So, be nice! Okay?
“Shigaraki?”
“You said I was cute.”
He’s blushing as he blurts it out like it’s a defense mechanism to keep you from getting closer. You rack your brain for the precise wording, but you can only remember bits and pieces of lying down to look at each other.
Did you really call him cute? You gnaw on your lip and look away, but as you glance at him again, you know you definitely did say that. Your lips turn upwards, the hilarity of you having to double-check while sober if you meant what you’d said...
Shigaraki was even hot now that you really looked at him, even with the tsundere thing going on.
“Well… well! I was drunk! Besides, you can’t tell me you didn’t like hearing it.”
“No, I didn’t. You’re mistaken.”
“What’s that, huh? Why do you look like a tomato, hm?”
He wants to throttle you, wagging your finger in his face and poking his cheek like he’s a zoo animal.
“I should’ve just left you up there, let you get eaten by wolves.”
“But you didn’t.”
You’re right. Somehow in the mix of pushing you away and being pulled closer, he still stayed there the whole night to keep you safe. He still woke you early enough to escape the wolves lurking in the nearly destroyed frat house. He could’ve let you be eaten by wolves, but he didn’t.
“...Well, whatever. Let’s go.”
“Mkay.”
It’s surprising how you decide to drop the subject. This strange attraction thrummed in your bones, urging you to do something about this little… crush. You let him guide you out the door and towards his car, a beat-up little Toyota. It’s red, too, like his eyes. Maybe it was on purpose.
“You’re okay to drive?”
“Yeah, I’m good.”
Shigaraki drives recklessly, you note. The way his hands grip the wheel, tires screeching as he swerves out into the abandoned street and takes off. It should make you scared, want to yell, and demand he let you out. Only he gives you a quick glance and smirks.
You really should talk to Nejire before you decide to fuck him. His music taste blares out of old speakers, a mix of rock and metal that wakes you like a good cup of coffee. You’re about to lose yourself to the Foo Fighters song, but then he snaps the knob down to zero and clears his throat.
“You owe me.”
“I owe you what? I don’t owe you,” you even cross your arms for effect.
How cute.
“For taking care of you, ruined my night,” he’s lying, and he knows he’s lying, but he can’t help but take a chance.
Take a chance and see if you really mean it, if he’s not just making things up because you want to be nice. The part that runs deep in his blood tells him it can’t be true, and he hopes that, for once, he’s wrong.
“Psh, ruined. You love being around me. That’s why you get like that,” you push it even further, “you just don’t know how to tell me you want me.”
He doesn’t know what to say, and you’re carelessly whistling a tune while picking at your nails.
“We have to practice our dance for class,” smooth, peaceful transition.
“Right! Tomorrow evening, in one of the practice rooms, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks for walking me home.”
Shigaraki repeats his reply, and you note that he seems distracted. You wonder if you also seem distracted; you had a lot to think about!...
And all Shigaraki could think about was holding your waist in his hands. It made his heart thump in his chest. God.
The walk to the practice room was cold, and you were thankful for your quick thinking of wearing leg warmers like a ballerina. You’re unsure if Shigaraki is already there, but you’re shaking off the cold as quickly as possible while storming into the building.
He is there! His phone’s hooked up to a small speaker, and the pale blue walls make him shine even in dark clothing. His hair shakes when he gives you a blithe wave, “hey. Took you long enough.”
“Hey! I came as fast as I could. Is that your speaker?”
“Mm, no. My roommate’s, uh… Dabi? You don’t know him.”
Oh, you’ve heard of him. Frankly, this should be an even bigger red flag, but you pay it no mind and shrug, “I might’ve heard of him.”
He chuckles at that. So you have heard of him.
“Well, anyway. He never uses it, so I took it.”
“Wow, evil.”
You drop your bag next to his, a frumpy black backpack with suspicious stains. You sidle close to him, peering at his Spotify while he scrolls for the correct song.
“You should show me your Spotify account!”
“God no, you’ll never see it. C’mon, we need to get this over with.”
“Whaaaat? You don’t want to hang out and stall practicing with me?”
He’s gotten warmer since your first meeting, lips quirked up as he drops his phone and crosses his lazy arms, “nope.”
“Fine! We can practice, and maybe later, I can steal your phone for your Spotify.”
“Yeah, yeah,” his voice dips a bit lower, “c’mere.”
Something inside of you ignites, but you force yourself to ignore it while wrapping your arms around his shoulders; he slumps a bit to accommodate you, making the fire even hotter. You melt like butter into him. The two of you fit perfectly. You could feel it.
The melody is something from an old movie, gentle and sweet with a romantic vibe. It’s causing tension between you and Shigaraki.
It’s making you want to kiss him.
“You stepped on my foot,” he whispers while twirling you in a half-circle.
Squeaking a quiet apology, he rolls his eyes and dips you a tad, “you seem distracted.”
You can hardly hear him over “Easy Lovers” playing in the background. It’s consuming you whole like you might not ever breathe again.
“Do I?”
“Maybe I just don’t know you that well enough,” and you twirl again.
It’s just practicing for class, for a dumb class that wouldn’t even matter in four years. But you didn’t think of anything at that moment, just that you were pressing soft lips against chapped ones with a feeling of passion behind it. Even if he lacked lip balm, the sensation of him gripping your shirt made everything seem so much hotter. Sweeter.
He even has the gall to swipe his tongue over your lip like he’s the one who took the leap and kissed you first. You know that Shigaraki was too shy to kiss you first.
“...”
It’s dead silent, his Spotify queue echoing automatically and filling the room with music you don’t think you’ve ever heard. Shigaraki nearly shivers at the confused gleam in your eyes.
“It’s called shoegaze.”
“Shoegaze?”
“Yeah,” and he’s barely finishing the word before taking your cheek in hand and bringing you back to him.
Your breath hitches and you want to get so close the two of you nearly fuse together. Dainty hands tangled in his hair, all raggedy and muted like his skin or clothes. Something about how his bony fingers dig into the curve of your waist keeps your head spinning, and you don’t even realize he owns you by pressing you against the wall and licking the inside of your mouth.
“Sh-aah.”
The moan wasn’t too loud, but it echoed in his head. Shigaraki has never been the type to be so openly carnal and animalistic, and yet it was coming out with every kiss he dotted on the skin of your neck. He could fuck you here if he was so pleased, and briefly, he worried when he felt his cock stir in his pants.
You bring him back to you, grasping like a lifeline and laving over the slickness of his mouth and how he was strong enough to carry you just off the ground. It was stupidly hot; when did he get all this power? It’s like it overtook him, and the two of you part; neither of you wanted to.
“We need to stop.”
“But can’t we–”
“No. Not here,” he mulls over his following words with an annoyed look, “and I don’t have a condom.”
You nearly burst out laughing in his face, dry heaving and keeling over. But it’ll upset him, and that’s the last thing you want. “Oh, well, I’m on birth control?”
“Stop.”
He seems firm in his decision, but you can’t help but wiggle your hips toward him enticingly. Maybe he’ll cave, let you give him a handjob or something. I mean, that’s not that bad, right?
“Please?”
Shigaraki would usually feel irritation rise quickly and overwhelm him, but his eyes flicker down to your wandering hands and wiggling hips. Well, he was serious about not wanting to fuck here, but…
“I’m only doing this so you’ll be quiet!”
He sinks to his knees. You salivate at sight, brimming with joy and confidence. His thumbs hook in your belt loops, and he tenderly runs his hands over your thighs, “grab onto the ballet bar.”
You don’t think you’ll collapse to your knees, but you’re shaking in anticipation because he looks like he knows what he’s doing. The way he swiftly tugs your leggings and panties down in one go, you can feel your arousal smearing your thighs; you were already horny just from kissing him.
Finally, he looks relaxed, parting your puffy lips and admiring your dripping hole.
“It’s cute.”
“Shut up,” you’re breathless already with how you can feel his breath right where you need him.
Then, he’s licking from your clenching hole to the nub of your clit, the glide slick with spit as he gets to work.
“Shigaraki!”
You nearly scream, legs angling in too close, but his surprisingly firm grip keeps you how he wants you. Your hands wrench around the ballet bar as he licks every fold so he can taste as much of you as possible.
It’s wonderful, and you know now that he does in fact, know what he’s doing, especially with how his nose and cheeks are beginning to shine with arousal. He’s eating you like a man starved like he can’t get enough from fucking you on his tongue; he needs more and more. He licks into your hole, savoring every drop with a clench on your ass that’ll leave bruises for days.
He sucks your clit between his lips before pulling away with a pop, “you’re such a fucking brat.”
“I know, I know, and I’m sorry! Just keep,” and you tilt your hips towards his shiny lips again, “please? Feels so good….”
It’s rewarding how he flattens his tongue to grind up your slit, devouring you like he had too much time to practice. The way he toys with your pussy; makes your legs shake and your back arch off the mirror displaying your debauchedness.
Shigaraki mumbles something, but you’re too busy tilting your hips into his face and making him nearly unable to breathe as you tremble on his tongue. He tonguefucks you, digging deep with obscene slurping noises echoing around you, “oh, fuuuuck.”
Your hands entangle in his white strands, grounding you while you speed towards your orgasm like a rocket setting into space. Shigaraki seems to sense your quickened breaths and gyrating hips; his hands grip your ass cheeks to pull you closer as he makes you creamy. He holds you in place, forcing you to feel his tongue grinding flat circles over your clit before dipping down to lap over your pussy. He acts as if it’s a dessert. Like it’s a real treat to eat you out.
He pulls away, mildly huffing out of breath, “stop moving.”
Soft pecks are placed on your inner thighs as he lets you grow needier and needier through pussy neglect, “Shigaraki, please.”
“Please, what? You’re so selfish,” and he gives a hard suck to your clit, “I should just leave you here.”
“No! No, don’t!”
His rough treatment of you makes you jump, but he doesn’t leave you like he threatened. Instead, he kissed the mound of soft curls in the apex of your thighs, nose curving down the slope of your thigh as his breath barely ghosted over your slick lips.
“I want you to be the one that makes me feel good,” maybe if you lay it on thick, he’ll be forced to listen to you!
Instead, all he rewards you with is an unreadable look, but then he’s diving back in between your legs, and you can’t focus on what that look means because Shigaraki will make you cum.
“Yes, yes! Keep going, hah… your tongue’s so deep!”
The wet sounds make you flush, and his intensity makes you jump to your tip-toes and tilt away from the warm, wet mouth that chases you no matter how you tilt your hips.
Your legs are shaking, threatening to close, and the stretched coil snap could happen anytime you’re barely saying, “feel like I’m gonna, gonna c-ungh. Gonna cum…!”
He keeps going. Determined and sloppy with how he’s not even taking a second to breathe. You’re nearly there, humping his face with moans of his name that turn his ears pink. A hand snakes up your leg, and there’s a wet squelch as he easily slips two fingers inside. The stretch is delicious torture, and you cum while crying out.
“Shigaraki!”
His fingers help you ride out your orgasm, the remnants glistening on his fingers as your cream sticks to them lewdly before he sucks the essence off. He stands once you’ve regained yourself.
“Pretty good,” and he gives his hand one last lick; he can’t even stop the snark from appearing.
“Shut up! You’re so embarrassing.”
“Yeah, yeah, didn’t I just make you cum? All whiny, ‘ah, ah! Shigaraki mmph!’ right?”
“No! Not even right at all,” and he casually leans over you with his hands on the ballet bar as if you two were dating as if he was actually your boyfriend, “...but thank you.”
“Thank you?”
“Well, well, I mean! Thank you for… indulging me.”
You had trailed off, not even realizing how close he was to your ear until he whispered a gravelly, “you’re so very welcome for making you cum, if that’s what you mean.”
Neither of you speaks. You can’t help but look down and notice the bulge in his pants. He seems unbothered, but leaving him high and dry feels unfair.
“Do you want me to…?”
He gives a quick glance down but shakes his head, “Nah. We should just wrap all of this up, though.”
“Right,” and yet you don’t stop thinking about it while both of you make the practice room look neat again.
Even while walking you back home, his second time, Shigaraki knows that there’s something secretive on your mind.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing! Just tired.”
“...Right.”
He stares at you for too long before you head into your dorm. You know what’s coming but don’t make the first move. He’s quick about it, but he does kiss you. It’s so fast, sweet, and low stakes that you smile warmly at him.
“Goodnight, Shigaraki.”
The boy nods, pulling up his hoodie, “night.”
You can’t wait to tell Nejire all about it.
“You what?! You had sex with Shigaraki?!”
Nejire’s in disbelief, nearly falling off her bed as she bolts towards your side of the room, “you really did?”
“Other people can probably hear you! But, well, yeah. It wasn’t like we went all the way or anything! He just went down on me,” the pink in your cheeks is evident while you begin to unravel the story.
“Wait, where was this again?”
“Oh. The, well, the practice room?”
“The practice room?!.”
She suddenly bursts into laughter, and you feel your cheeks twitching as you squeeze her hands, “c’mon, it’s not funny!”
“No, no, it’s not. I didn’t think Shigaraki would eat pussy in the practice room!”
Sometimes you regret telling your roommate anything, but it took the edge off thinking about how he hadn’t texted you. Should you expect a text? You figured it would be something lighthearted, but he just went radio-silent. Just like that, it hurt, you had to admit. But, you weren’t gonna let him get away with it. You’ll get your payback soon, finally get him to realize what he’s really feeling.
You hope it’s the same as what you’re really feeling.
Then, the day of your presentation is like the sunrise. Knowing everyone would be watching you didn’t ease your nerves. Considering Shigaraki had been ignoring your texts since the last time you met, it felt like he was contributing to your anxiety just as much as the actual dance! You could hardly get dressed, shrugging on your comfiest yet presentable clothes.
Maybe he thought it was a mistake, and your fingers were itching to send a text. Nejire had advised you to send something short and sweet before leaving for the day, and you finally cave while brushing your teeth.
[Dance Partner]: Do you want to meet up before class?
Shigaraki lay in bed, still in pajamas and debating whether to drop out. His heartbeat spikes at the message, and it feels so dumb to get excited over a mere text. He’d been practicing, unbeknownst to you, spending so much time in the bathroom with the door locked to practice his footwork that he’d gotten an angry text from his roommate.
[Shigaraki]: I think it’s fine
Part of you wonders if he’ll show up at all.
[Dance Partner]: I’m nervous.
He doesn’t reply, but he feels the same. Eventually, he meandered his way to his closet to pick his outfit. Yeah, he was nervous too.
You spot him first, and part of you wants to wave him over but he seems to hardly look up. This was all fruitless. You should’ve never done anything in that practice room. Tears prickle your vision at the sudden emotion of it, a test, and knowing a guy wants nothing to do with you? It sucks much more than you thought it would.
“Hey.”
He’s calm, voice smooth and honeyed as he sits next to you. Hopefully, he doesn’t notice your glassy eyes.
“Hey.”
The silence passes between you as more people file in, and Nemuri sets up the class materials.
“I don’t think you should be nervous,” he pauses to side-eye you, “I’ve been practicing.”
“You have?”
“Yeah. I don’t want to give you a bad grade, and I need to pass.”
He put you first, and maybe it’s dumb to analyze his order of priorities, but it makes you feel special, “I think we’ll do well.”
You finally turn to look at him, and he’s already looking at you.
“Stop acting weird.”
“I-I’m not! I’m just nervous!”
“Yeah, right,” and a gentle hand settles on your knee, “I know what you’re thinking. About the practice room.”
“You’re the one that didn’t text me back.”
He doesn’t reply right away, but you know he feels terrible. The way he swallows and clenches his free fist, the regret is a bit palpable.
“...I know, and I’m sorry.”
He squeezes your knee for emphasis, “genuinely.”
You suppose it’s okay, mumbling that you forgive him and relishing in the burn that his hand leaves on your leg. Nejire clears her throat, and you listen to her instructions. His hand doesn’t leave your knee.
She calls your names about halfway into class, and suddenly the lights seem too bright once you’re on stage. You can feel your leg shaking as you stand interlocked with Shigaraki. He looks calm and collected. If anything, he seems to be more worried about you.
Indeed he can feel your anxiety shakes, and then his thumb rubs the space between your collarbones. It suddenly feels like everything will be alright.
“Are you two ready?”
You squeak out a “yes!” and Shigaraki merely nods; the music follows, and you retreat into your mind to remember every step.
“Don’t be nervous,” he whispers softly, and you feel like you could do anything.
The two of you dance to the same song in the practice room while you swim across the floor with grace, the type of grace that’s only there because you have a connection. It comes effortlessly, Shigaraki leading with you following as he steadily guides you by your waist.
You remember to make eye contact, and your breath is stolen because your biggest fears have been confirmed. You like Shigaraki. You want him carnally. More than anything in the world, you move like two souls on the same plane. Everything about it is perfect.
He stops the momentum, your upper half steadily supported by a hand that shows so much tenderness between your shoulder blades. The two of you were breathing softly, near exhaustion with the way your bodies swirled together into one.
“Excellent! Very nice. Any critiques?”
The spell is broken, and you’re collecting your breath while smoothing your clothes. Whew, that was something. Your eyes track toward Shigaraki’s, and he’s looking at you again.
“I thought you guys looked very clean,” said a meek girl desperate to escape the room’s silence.
You offer a “thanks” and note the critique of better posture, among other surface criticism. Nemuri writes on her clipboard, smiling and nodding, “excellent, thank you, you two.”
“I have to go, excuse me.”
He leaves you alone on the stage to race up the stairs to collect his backpack. You’re knocked out of a trance and thrown into deep waters, and Nemuri begins to call the next names.
“Hiroshi, is your partner not here? Oh, and,” she turns back to you, “you can take a seat now.”
You do.
It’s time to settle this, Shigaraki decides. There’s a three-day break coming up, and his mind has been looping back to it every passing class. He couldn’t keep running away from you anymore after you were assigned different partners for the next dance. If he doesn’t act, he’ll completely lose you.
And for the record, Nemuri was a liar. Could she not see the connection between you two? Even he could see it, and he wished he couldn’t.
It felt like you were slipping away, partnered with someone else, and Shigaraki had been conversing with you sparsely. It was torture, Hell on Earth if he had to imagine it. You’re getting lost in the waves, and he’s losing his grip.
Meanwhile, you’ve been getting on top of your classwork and contacting your new dance partner, Eijirou. It doesn’t feel the same of course, not when you can feel Shigaraki’s eyes on you every time you’re in the arms of the redhead.
You don’t expect anything from him anymore; you pretend not to. The ding sounds from your phone, and you just know.
[Shigaraki]: hey
It makes your heart race, and you can feel your pulse thrumming in your neck.
[Her]: Hey
[Shigaraki]: wyd
[Her]: I’m not doing this
[Shigaraki]: come over
[Her]: No
[Shigaraki]: i wanna see you
You want to slap yourself. Tell him there’s no way you can deal with his hot and cold nature. That even if you like him, he’s not good for you. You can’t, shouldn’t, wouldn’t, won’t.
[Her]: Come to my dorm and walk with me, it’s too dark and cold
[Shigaraki]: omw
Waiting feels painful. You spend a minute making sure you are moisturized and smelling good, and then eventually, he’s at the sliding door of the dorm. You’re wearing a simple long-sleeve, and you’re keen to pick up on the fact that he really brought you a coat.
“Hey,” you smile and eagerly embrace him the tiniest bit.
“Hey, take it. ‘M tired of holding it,” and your hands are brushing when you take the black hoodie to slip over your head.
The walk is quiet, and you can feel anticipation climbing up your spine as the two of you grow closer and closer. The cold is nonexistent, not with the warmth you feel because of the boy beside you.
“Is your roommate home?”
He shakes his head, hand steady as he slips the key into the lock and brings you into his space. The lights flicker on, and you’re smiling at his side of the room. Dark, a bit punk, and he’s totally unashamed of it. He drops the keys in the bowl, turning his head first before fully facing you.
“So–”
You’re rushing to jump into his arms, connecting your lips effortlessly in a kiss that soothes all aches you’d ever had about him. You knew he would catch you, and you fit like the sun and moon. The connection makes you heave into the kisses, leaning into the slickness of saliva coating your lips while he pushes you against the nearest wall.
It feels like dancing, the way your tongues slide against each other with a fierceness while he shrugs off his jacket. You’re already wet, impossibly wet, and the mewls come out despite you trying to swallow them. The need for him is so strong you’re dropping your legs to move things along.
“You’re so fucking hot,” pressing his forehead against yours, “holy shit.”
“You wanna see more?”
Peeling off the sweatshirt to catch your curves worn under the fitted long-sleeve. His hand circles your lower back, eyes locked onto how your tits nearly spill out of its v-neck. They’re so easy to hold; his hand is already sliding up your side to the underside of your breasts.
“Can I?”
“Of course,” you whisper while tugging his hand to squeeze your tits, sighing at the contact.
“No bra?”
“What, you, ah! You want it to get in the way?”
“God, no,” His other hand meets your other tit, fully groping you, and his eyes nearly crimson with need.
His hardness is apparent, the bulge nudging against your thigh while his knee applies delicious pressure to your aching clit; you can’t stop your hips from grinding up against his leg.
“Kiss me,” and he’s quick to shut you up, hands raking under your shirt to feel skin on skin.
“Shigaraki!”
He could listen to you say that all day, but he can’t stand how the two of you are still so tightly clothed. Your shirt comes up, and you’re quick to immediately tug it off and grind on his leg again. It’s sticky, hot, and heady as the two of you dry-hump against the only space on the wall.
“Wait, we should…we should move to the bed,” and he doesn’t seem to hear you with how he lurches forward to lick into your mouth, “Sh-Shigaraki.”
The kisses only stop for a moment, but then he’s pushing away from the wall and guiding you by the hands to the bed. He slips off his sweatpants, leaving his boxers on, and you mirror him. It almost feels too intimate when he stares at you once settled on top of you, and you can’t take it.
His hand circles your nipple slowly, making you arch at the feeling of him toying with your chest, “mm!”
Resting on his left hand, you watch as the bony hand travels downwards, swooping under your tit to glide past your belly button and reach the black band of your panties, “may I?”
You’ve never been so turned on, and you’re sure it’ll be smeared all over your thighs by the end of this tryst. Lifting your hips, he tosses the panties onto the floor, and your face burns with how your wetness immediately soaks his fingers when he runs them through your slit.
“You’re so wet, you’re that needy?”
“I just need you to touch me…!”
He gives a low hum, digits circling your clit so slowly that your legs jump closed, “keep them open.”
You’re getting desperate, eager to feel him slip his fingers inside and crook them up, but he’s so calm and attentive. Taking his time, he looks at every inch of your pussy with fire in his eyes. You’re dripping, and the slick sounds when he just barely slips his middle finger into your hole nearly echo.
Finally, he indulges you by slipping it in deep and rubbing your clit with his thumb. You can hardly breathe, toes curling as you hold his wrist to keep fingering you, “fuck, feels so good!”
He can only chuckle, curling his fingers and hitting that gooey spongy spot that arches your back and leaves muffled cries spilling through your fingers. It feels so good, too good, and you’re soaring as he finally starts to thrust his hand.
“Come on, let me hear what you have to say. Do you like it? Do you want more?”
“I wan, I want…!”
He forces his hand, adjusting to a steady rhythm that you can practically hear yourself getting close from the stimulation of being finger-fucked. Looking down at you, he’s keyed into every movement. Every noise and body twitch. It’s like he’s been possessed to make you cum, and you’re nearly there.
“Gonna cum, fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you grappled for your tit like a lifeline, and it was like a show with how he watched you tug at your chest.
It’s so desperate, and it feels perfect to finally be connected and feel the heat of his breath while he makes you cream on his hand. You’re at his mercy, and he knows it, “go on and cum. Wanna fuck you.”
You nearly black out, the tension snapping like a rubber band as you gyrate your hips. It’s debauched, but you hardly care when Shigaraki rubs a tight circle on your clit, “heh.”
“You’re,” you’re still panting, and he grins.
“I’m what?”
He’s shrugging his boxers off while you recover, and your clit throbs once he exposes his cock, lean and long like his fingers.
“Nothing!”
“Cat got your tongue?”
You circle closer to him, watching eagerly as he slips the condom on with ease. Your mouth’s watering and you want to go down on him badly, but he has other plans.
“Wanna do doggy?”
“Yeah,” and it’s the hottest sight he’s ever seen when you bend over, exposing your clenching hole waiting to be filled. Your ass is up in the air, and you look perfectly spread out for him.
The slap on your ass makes you jump, but Shigaraki seems happy with the way he kneads the fat of your ass. His cock bumps into your pussy as he maneuvers himself, and the slickness of it sliding between your folds and bumping your clit makes you shake.
“God, I could fuckin’ tease you forever,” and he grips the base of his cock with a groan, “I don’t know why I waited so long.”
“I know! Why don’t you–”
He slides home, he’s not too girthy, but the length makes your arms shake while supporting your body, “oh god.”
“Yeah, fuckkk, yeah.”
It’s a slow rhythm, clearly reveling in the wet warmth and tightness of your hole; he’s got a death grip on your hip as he shallowly thrusts into you, “amazing pussy.”
You can only moan a “thanks” as he moves a bit more, cockhead dragging against your walls and then filling you back up till you feel like you can’t breathe. The bed creaks, and he starts pounding you so hard it cries. Jolting you forward, you can’t even lean away from how he plows himself into you, balls slapping against your clit, giving you aftershocks.
It’s messy, and he’s barely holding his rhythm because you’re squeezing around him so tight and he feels like he might shoot his load any second. He slows down for a mere second to rub your clit, lean body resting on yours as he moves his hips in tandem with yours.
He’s panting and is too stuck on your eyes rolling back to notice he’s inching closer and closer to his orgasm. The coil is hot in his tummy as he ravages you and makes you take all of him. The connection drives you wild, and soon you’re pushed face-first into the pillows as he fucks you like a fleshlight.
“Fuck, fuck, oh my god,” and he fucking whimpers inside of you.
It sends your head spinning as he reaches his peak, a hand slapping your ass as the two of you move together. Your ass smacks against his lower abs, and the slick that coats the top of the hair around his base makes him heave, “I’m gonna cum. Fuck, gonna milk this sweet pussy.”
You barely crane your head to catch a view, and he looks heavenly, and his eyes draw shut. He’s barely even thrusting, just mashing into you deeper and harder. He opens his eyes, and the red in them turns nearly burgundy as he grunts.
“Shiga-Shigaraki…!”
One, two, and then he’s pinning you down with his body weight as his hips jerk up into you. You know he’s wearing a condom, but part of you wants to imagine the heat filling your insides and breeding you. The thought of it makes you squeeze around him, and his fingers leave bruises on tender parts of your flesh.
It takes a minute for your breath to calm. The feeling of satiation with Shigaraki still buried to the hilt in you feels so comforting that you could fall asleep. You’re barely there, thoroughly fucked and floating in space. He has enough strength to interlock your hands on top of you, and the two of you bask in the post-coital glow.
“You gonna get off me any time soon?”
He offers a steady deep breath before replying.
“Nope. It’s my reward for looking after you at that party.”
“Really? You’re still on that?”
Sidelining you again, you remember why he frustrates you so much once again. But it doesn’t hurt this time; it just feels good.
“Go on a date with me.”
“You can’t just change the subject like that!”
“Then go on a date with me, and I won’t have to.”
Your mouth flattens into a straight line, “you’re lame.”
Small kisses dot the curve of your neck as he finally pulls himself out of you. You leave in a flash to use the bathroom and return to the covers being pulled up just for you.
The two of you settle on meeting up next Monday.
[Shigaraki]: See you at the ice skating rink
You never knew Shigaraki would be one to skate between you two? He didn’t, either. He supposed you just bring out that side of him.
The side that likes dancing, ice skating, and you.
i need help finding a smut where Tomura is a tatoo artist ane where we are twice cousin or something like that 😭😔✋please soemone help me
SHIGARAKI >:D!!!! Red tinted :D!!
If you can show your appreciation somehow, please do!!! (if you use)
I didn’t put this WIP on the list for the WIP game, but I’m hyped about it, so here is an excerpt from a fic inspired partially by a conversation with @sophsiaaa and written for a summer fic event hosted by @threadbaresweater! Shigaraki x reader, coffee shop au + ‘a day at the beach’:
Past noon, things slow down a bit. You decide to speed-clean the espresso machine, and you’re so focused on your work that you don’t notice the customer. It’s possibly also the customer’s fault, since he’s peering at you from over the drink pickup counter instead of standing by the cash register, and when he barks the question at you, it startles you badly. “What’s the password?”
“On the WiFi?” You tuck your burned hand behind your back. “No password. Find a place to sit down and have at it.”
The customer looks disconcerted. Or at least you think he does — the lower half of his face is covered with a surgical mask, and given that he doesn’t have eyebrows, it’s hard to read his expression. “Why?”
“Why isn’t there a password?” You haven’t gotten that question yet. “I want people to be able to use it if they need it.”
“They’re gonna watch porn.”
“Me putting a password on the WiFi wouldn’t stop that,” you say. “And I’m not the Internet police. If somebody starts acting up, I’ll deal with it. If not — just use headphones.”
The customer’s expression twists. “I didn’t mean me.”
“Sure.” You’re not a moron. “It’s not my business what you do. Unless your business starts messing with my business. Seriously. Knock yourself out.”
The customer turns away, and you spend a second being extremely grateful that you went for single-occupancy bathrooms instead of multiple-stall bathrooms before you go back to cleaning the espresso machine. Your hand hurts, but it’s nothing running it under cold water won’t fix later. When you straighten up, there’s someone at the counter.
It’s porn guy, who you really shouldn’t call porn guy. Innocent until proven guilty and all that. You dry your hands and hurry over. “What can I get for you today?”
“Black coffee.”
“Sure. Anything else?”
The customer glances at the pastry case, then shakes his head. Then his stomach growls audibly. He knows you heard it. What little of his face is visible above the mask turns red. “No.”
“Tell you what,” you say. “I’ve got these new pastries the bakery wants me to try out, but next to nobody’s tried one yet. If you agree to tell me how it was, you can have it half off.”
“I have money.” The customer shoves a credit card across the counter to you, and you see that he’s wearing fingerless gloves. Or sort of fingerless gloves. They’re missing the first three fingers and that’s it. “I don’t need help.”
“No, but you’re helping me out,” you say. You add the pastry to his order and discount it by half, then fish it out of the case with a pair of tongs. “For here or to go?”
“Here.” The customer watches as you set it on a plate. “What is that?”
“It’s babka.”
“I can read. What is it?”
“I don’t really know,” you admit. Maybe that’s why people aren’t buying them. “The filling is chocolate and cinnamon, though. It’s hard to go wrong with that. It’ll be just a second with the coffee.”
You fill a mug, then point out the cream and sugar. Then you realize you still haven’t tapped the customer’s card. You finish ringing it up and glance at the cardholder’s name. Shimura Tenko. He hasn’t been in before today. You’re not the best with faces, but you never forget a name.
Sanctuary of Nightmares PT6
Platonic SB x Child Reader
Chapter Selection
Previous / Next
You were about to attempt to run away when you felt the grip of his hands encase you, causing an immideate struggle. You squirmed, kicked, punched, anything you could do to remove yourself from the sudden grip of the iron giant. You were far too blinded by your fear to even listen to him as he swiftly began walking, the clicks of not only his feet but other animatronics filling the air. There were faint words that made it to you. Such as 'calm down' and 'I'm not going to hurt you'. You didn't believe that of course. Especially as his hands pressed into the bruises on the side of your body creating a spike of pain as you moved. It was a while after this struggle when he finally set you down, your body leaving him as soon as he let you go. You attempted to run only to find that you were in some sort of small enclosed space you could faintly tell was an elevator. Absolute terror ran through your system as you turmed to stare up at the huge bear.
You had never expected these things to be so enormous.
You quickly pushed yourself into a corner, trying to keep your distance from him. He attempted to take a step closer but seemed to stop when that action earned a terrified squeak along with you crumbling to the ground in an attempt to get smaller, your head tucked in your knees as if what you couldn't see wouldn't hurt you.
These characters had been your sanctuary, your safe haven. They were the thoughts your mind wandered to when hoping for better things.
You could not have imagined them being this terrifing.
Each metallic and robotic sound only further increased your fear, the source of the noise unseen by you. Eventually you heard no sound at all, your body waiting for an attack.
"Please, please calm down. I swear I will not harm you I-"
"Let me handle this Freddy. I think I can help" a boy's voice suddenly cut off the animatronic, the sound too human to belong to any bot. Yet in your panic, you couldn't have known the difference. All you knew was that you wanted to leave, to get out of here! You wanted home, you wanted normal. None of this can be real, it can't be real it can't-
"Hey...can you hear me?" The voice spoke again, this time closer to you. It was cautious with a clear child-like quality held in it.
It was then that you listened, your racing mind slamming to a halt at the strangeness of hearing anything human. Your quiet sobbing slowed, your head slowly rising only to come face to face with a boy, one similar to who you'd seen earlier.
The emotional whiplash that came from your mind slowly registering that the boy was real was enough to allow your body to subconsciously catch its breath as your mind focused on him.
Once you were looking at him, your rivers of tears slowly stopping, he managed to give a faint smile. It wasn't a very convincing one, in fact he had absolutely no idea what he was doing or how he had stopped your panic. He had only volunteered to try because he was less threatening than the seemingly ten-foot bear.
"I-I'm...Gregory...this is Freddy. He's safe. He's one of the good guys!" The brown-haired boy who you now knew as Gregory explained, his voice switching between nervous and confident faster than you could think to react to it. Freddy gave a small wave when mentioned, though he kept his movement to a minimum as to not further scare you.
Despite his animatronic body not allowing for much expression, he stood almost anxiously, his eyes not diverting from you. His drooped ears helped to further show his own distress, though it was clear that he didn't entirely know how to help a child who was scared of him.
You looked between the two, debating your situation for a moment.
The last animatronic you thought was safe had terrified the living daylights out of you, not to mention attacked this kid. So you were a bit skeptical about the boy's words along with the bot behind him. But, dispite your continued apprehension, you felt a little inclined to believe the boy. He seemed to know a little more than you with his abilities to outmaneuver Moon and having been able to get close to the huge bear, not to mention that he was older than you. If there was anyone who you'd hope to help you in your current situation it would be an older human.
Before you could continue to process your current situation a loud sound startled you back into a defensive postion, your arms wrapped around your legs as they were pulled against your chest. Freddy, not wanting you to regress after Gregory had managed to calm you a little, was quick to address the noise.
"Do not worry! That was just the doors opening! It is nothing to be afraid of! Look" he spoke up before moving to touch the open doors as if to further show their safety.
"See! No danger! You are safe!" Freddy almost enthusiastically replied, his face holding what you assumed was a smile as if he was genuinely proud of partaking in the conversation.
You weren't sure what it was about his over-the-top display, but you found it rather funny to watch the massive bear that had seemed so terrifying only seconds before, move to show you just how safe a door was. The genuine way in which he did so also helped with the comedy of it. So, in spite of yourself, a small laugh escaped your lips, heavily contrasting with your tear-stained face. You quickly tried to muffle it though, afraid you might upset the bear.
The small laugh allowed Freddy to somewhat relax, his stiff posture loosening now that you were calming down a little bit.
Feeling the tense air alleviate slightly Gregory decided to but in again. After all, he wanted to get out of here and he wasn't going to do that of you all were just standing aroun.
"Uh look uh I know we just kinda met but we've gotta get out of here. The robots in this place have gone crazy and the security guard isn't gonna help us. Freddy says there are two ways we can go so I was gonna go to the fire escape. There probably aren't as many security doors there." Gregory explained before outstretching a hand towards you, offering to help you up.
"It's probably safer if you stick with us"
You stared at his hand for a moment, unsure if you should accept the gesture. It didn't take long for you to realize you didn't want to be alone in this place and take his hand. He pulled you up but didn't let go of your hand once you stood and neither did you with his. It seemed that you both were gaining some comfort in each other.
"I will guide you in the direction of the exit, though I will not be able to help you most of the way. It is probably best if you get a map" Freddy explained as he took a few steps out of the elevator. The two of you followed suit, though Gregory held a bit more conviction in his step than you.
"Well, then where do we-" his sentence was cut short by a blaring sound, one that greatly startled both you and him. You pulled him a little closer, afraid that if he went too far you'd lose him.
"Free map"
An automated sound spoke as it outstretched a map to the two of you. You both stood in shock for a moment, the sudden dip in precived danger greatly confusing the both of you. Slowly the shock left and Gregory grabbed the two maps. It was only after doing so that the bot turned away and an annoyed look grew on Gregory's face. With a grip still tightly held onto your hand, he turned away from the bot and handed you the extra map. You took it with a slightly shaking hand, a fact that you tried to hide He seemed more easily able to get over his shock than you so you were trying to stay calm, not wanting to upset him with feeings of fear that he wasn't experiencing.
He stared at you for an extra moment, his annoyed look softening as you took the paper. He took a deep breath, loosening his grip on your hand a little before he turned back to Freddy.
"Do you have another Fazwatch?" He asked the metal bear only for Freddy to shake his head.
"They are not meant to be given out often. You have my last one" Freddy explained, his own disappointment shown once again in his lowered ears. Gregory gave a simple nod in response before turning back to you.
"Then you just have to stay close okay? We're gonna get out of here together" Gregory spoke with confidence and a warning which you took very seriously. You gave a nod, showing that you understood.
"Okay, let's get moving"
The three of you started off on your escape. You picked up rather quickly on what to do as the two avoided the moving security bots, remaining as quiet as they could. Remembering to earlier when you had run into one of these bots you soon understood their purpose and the great necessity to keep away.
They were alarms. And with alarms came people, or more terrifyingly robots, looking to catch whatever had set them off.
However, there was no sign of whoever was supposed to be listening for that alarm nearby, so there was a bit of leeway on the volume level the three of you could produce
"What is your name?" Freddy asked as he tilted his head down ever so slightly to look at you. You stared for a moment, his giant size still ringing a few alarm bells. You tried to gauge the intention behind the question through Gregory, though he seemed mostly focused on walking rather than talking. So, not sure of what to do, you kept silent, your apprehension clear but your fear not as prevalent. Freddy's ears fell again, his eyes showing his sadness in how you didn't answer.
After a bout of silence, Gregory turned to you, slight confusion written on his face.
"Aren't you gonna tell him?" He asked, unable to see why you wouldn't. You quickly averted your eyes from Gregory, feeling the burn of words in your chest.
You never really spoke much. You'd been a quiet kid even before the world had beaten silence into you, so speaking didn't come very well to you. Most times you find it better to just keep your mouth shut.
However, in the presence of two sets of searing curious eyes, you felt entirely uncomfortable and a little cautious. You didn't want to upset them. After all, you didn't really know these two or their tempers. All you knew was that they were helping you, but that could always change.
So, even if you would have preferred not to say anything, you spoke.
"Y/n" you finally answered. Your voice was a soft sound, reminiscent of a whisper in the wind as it somehow reached their ears despite its incredibly low volume.
"What a great name. It is nice to meet you Y/n" Freddy spoke, his voice lowered into just above an actual whisper almost as if he was trying to match your voice but was unable to go lower than a certain point. You kept your eyes averted, hoping he'd just let everything fall back into silence. Luckily it did.
It wasn't very long until the three of you stopped in front of a place Freddy mentioned to be El Chip's. It was only once you and Gregory stood close enough for the door to slightly open that Freddy finally turned to get a better look at you, his eyes scanning, hoping for some type of profile.
He didn't get one, but what he did notice were your injuries. They were wrapped, likely because of his good friend Sun, but they wouldn't stay that way for very long, especially with you moving around so much.
"Gregory, I would like to raise a concern. I can not guarantee that this exit will be open and, while you may be equipped to deal with the consequences if that is so, I'm worried the Y/n may not be able to. Perhaps it's better if they stay with me until you are sure there is an exit" Freddy's voice stayed at the low volume it had been at earlier though it was now twisted in concern. Gregory turned between Freddy and you with a perplexed look, seemingly not understanding Freddy's words.
"What do you mean? They look fine to me!" Gregory responded, his tone almost sharp as he spoke. You felt his hand grip tighter onto yours only for you to wince and pull away from his grip, a shock of pain burning through you. He turned back to you with confusion that quickly turned to realization.
"Oh..." Was all he could say as he seemed to finally notice your bandages. His shock only held for a moment before you saw his face twist in slight anger, his mind spinning with possibilities.
How had this happened? No no, he knew why. Those horrifying bots! They hurt you! And it seemed pretty badly too, especially as he began to notice the other wrapped injuries. God how he hated these things! You were younger than he was! How could they do that to a little kid!? It's one thing to go after him. He's been on the street since he was six, but someone so sensitive? So small? At this point he wouldn't be surprised if they killed babies!
And it was that hatred, that growing seething hatred he had for those bots and what he'd perceived they'd done to you that caused his stubborn mind to begin to build with spite.
"That's even more reason they should stay with me! The faster we both get out the better" Gregory countered, his voice rising in intensity as he turned back to Freddy. Freddy was about to protest Gregory's decision but, upon seeing the seriousness in his eyes, decided better of it. He simply sighed, kneeling down as his eyes flickered between the both of you, apprehension found in the few features that could express emotion.
"I must warn the both of you: when you enter an area where you do not have a locator map signal, I will be unable to reach you. You can update your map at the security office. It is also best to locate any good hiding spots. The daycare attendant should have been released a few minutes ago and it is not safe to be roaming when he is around. Be safe..." Freddy cautioned, his voice anxiety latent. Gregory gave a firm nod, gently grasping your hand again before crouching under the door and into what was hopefully your path out of this place.
And to think just earlier today you had wanted nothing more than to be here...
- x -
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i could only die happily after drawing this shit !
The tongue 👅
yandere!incel!tomura shigaraki + foreigner!darling who can't speak japanese
TITLE: " RENT-A-GF " — navi.
NOTES: nsfw (18+ only) below the cut (non-con!! somnophilia!!) reminder: this is merely fantasy, i don't condone. will prob proofread someday lol. enjoy!
PAIRING: yandere!incel!shigaraki tomura x foreinger!reader
GENRE/AU: shigaraki is rlly misogynistic and delusional, age gap (you're older), reader is a substitute english teacher who got kidnapped by bwad gwuys and is now... yeah
CHARACTERS: shigaraki tomura (21), reader (24)
let's be for real: shigaraki was born to be an incel.
and incel!shigaraki is shamelessly self-aware of this, indeed. when he's not out terrorizing innocent citizens with his villainous coups, he takes to the internet to fulfill his insatiable need for an adrenaline rush. gorey video games and brutal death metal makes him light up in glee, but sometimes it's just not enough.
so, instead, he's a frequent on the dark web, diligently scouring sites that specialize in obscure female porn collectives that cater to his twisted kinks. incel!shigaraki glowers at the pictures of stupid, slutty women who prance around in sexy lingerie, but still gets a hard-on because he wishes he had a woman who would do that for him and him only.
and what shigaraki wants, he gets. on another sweaty night in his dark bedroom, he's boredly clicking through the hundreds of entries of women who are being sold for, what he thinks, too high of a price. not that money would ever be a problem for him; if he felt compelled to, he could just kidnap the girl he wanted all over again. so, no, it's not the price—it's what he thinks they're worth based on his attraction to them.
and, so far, all of them are worthless.
you see, the conundrum is that incel!shigaraki has a thing for foreign girls. don't ask why, he doesn't know. maybe he finds it cute that they're so clueless about his culture and language, and he's the one who'll control the narrative that rules their ignorance. maybe it's so cute how they wear their perpetual confusion on their face at all times, like a bratty kid who can't take navigate the world without mommy or daddy by their side.
of course, though, women could hardly do anything on their own anyway. every time he came across one they'd wail and cry as he grabbed them by the hair and threatened to kill them if they didn't shut the hell up. they'd beg for their lives or scream for someone to save them, but it would only piss him off more at how useless and brainless they tended to be. he just couldn't help but decay them—they were so noisy and whiny, it wasn't his fault.
obviously, shigaraki has neither patience nor experience with women. in fact, he can probably count with two fingers how many times he's had a non-violent interaction with a woman in his entire lifetime. the mere thought of this drives his insecurities to the brink of rage, but it's not his fault women are so unbelievably tasteless in their choice of men. it's their fault he has to go to such lengths to find a decent woman worthy of his presence.
but imagine his delight when he happens upon a listing of you, an immediately attractive foreign woman who used to be an english substitute teacher of all things. he clicks through your pictures with a renewed vigor, his interest piqued as he studies your unique features. eagerly, he scours through your posted information and it turns out that you happen to be exactly the kind of woman he's looking for.
it's a done deal. the transaction takes less than a few minutes and incel!shigaraki couldn't be more pleased with how smoothly it went. he'll have to leave a good review later on, when and if the woman he's just bought has satisfied him.
it takes just one night before shigaraki finds you literally dropped off at his doorstep like an amazon prime package. you’ve clearly been pampered with the way you’re clad in a skimpy maid outfit; your nails, hair, and makeup are all dolled to perfection. you look exactly like you did in the pictures.
and clearly you're wise beyond your years. you don't speak much because of the obvious language barrier, but you do seem to understand a bit of elementary japanese. shigaraki is delighted by your small mutterings of broken japanese—it’s unbelievably cute. sometimes he'll force you to speak in japanese just because he loves watching you struggle with your limited vocabulary.
incel!shigaraki gets attached to you. you're very attractive in his eyes, and he's completely ecstatic that you're all his. a woman he can do whatever he wants with, and no one would dare question him. the immense power trip sends him over the edge.
that being said, the first couple of weeks are still rather... awkward. you're not happy about being in the situation you're in, but you're smart enough to keep that to yourself. you don't fuss when shigaraki orders you to fetch him liquor or tidy up his filthy room, nor do you complain when he commands you to cuddle with him or keep him company while he plays video games.
"[name], c'mere," he'd bark at you, eyes still glued to the tv screen.
"be a good girl and keep my lap warm, hm?"
he'll force you to wear cute lingerie sets like he's seen the women on porn sites do. somehow you look so much better though, and it feels as though you're teasing him with the way you bend over so much while cleaning. the outline of your pussy through the small fabric that stretches over it has him horny in a matter of seconds. you're such a tease, aren't you ashamed? you just can't seem to stay in line.
however, despite all your obvious sexual innuendos towards him, shigaraki gets no relief. he's resorted to jacking off whenever you go to sleep but no matter how hard or how much he cums, there's an itch that can't be scratched with masturbation alone. and the way you're so shy around him is adorable, sure, but your little playing-hard-to-get act wasn't cutting it anymore.
the remedy? incel!shigaraki starts slipping sleeping pills into your food and drinks.
and it doesn't take long for shigaraki to develop a routine of visiting you while you're sleeping. partly to check up on you and assure himself of your presence, but mostly to creep around the edges of the bed and feel you up. you sleep so soundly that you don't even twitch when he fondles your soft breasts or runs his spindly fingers over your curves.
he almost doesn't want to disturb you; you look so peaceful, totally different than the frightened little faces you muster when you're awake. but the bothersome tightness stretching his boxers taut against its stitches makes it hard to resist his urges. anyway, you're simply doing the only thing a woman is good for: using your body to please him.
his breath is hot and heavy, laced with lust and selfish perversion as he defiles you to get himself off. some nights he just sits and admires your beauty, caressing your face with clumsy, inexperienced fingertips. some nights your shirt is pulled up so he can marvel at how nicely your breasts sit in whatever color bra he forced you to wear.
other nights his cock is nestled between them, thrusting like his life depends on it, chasing that euphoric high he gets when he finally spills his seed across your hardening nipples. and other nights shigaraki is even more daring—cute pajama pants and panties below your knees, face buried between your thighs as he explores every inch of your sweet cunt. he knows it's wrong, but so what? he's a villian, that's what makes it feel so right.
when you make faces in your sleep, he's filled with so much genuine affection—it's almost as if you're telling him he's doing a good job. you love it, don't you? he so desperately wants to hear you cry his name in that precious accent of yours and run your hands through his hair as you lavish your praise upon him for making you cream so many times.
he can't keep his eyes off you. so soft and compliant. you're so pretty while he's stuffing his cock into you and relentlessly flicking your little clit, not stopping even when he feels you clench around him like a vice as you orgasm over and over. not stopping even though you're drooling all over the linen sheets and he's came twice already.
"that's right... y-you gonna cum again? you gonna—ngh—cum all over my cock, you dumb whore?"
shigaraki watches with glassy, intrigued eyes as you squirm ever so slightly, face warped into one of undeniable pleasure as he ravages your gushing pussy. you're such a good girl for him, letting him use you as he wishes.
you're the woman he's chosen to give his virginity to. he's so happy and content that when he cums inside of you for the third time, he doesn't pull out. instead, shigaraki gently maneuvers your body so he can spoon you from behind, whispering tender "i love you's" as if he knows what that means. absently grinding his hips because your warmth is so comforting around his sticky, softening dick.
as much as shigaraki wants to stay and pound you into the mattress all night, the sleeping medication doesn't last forever. not to mention the mess you've made; the sheets are completely ruined and your clothes are strewn about on the floor, long forgotten. it's hot in your room and it stinks of his cum and sweat, but it doesn't really matter. the only thing on his mind is you and how he'll ruin you again tomorrow night.
for now, though, he rewards you for being so good by cleaning you up, smirking whenever you unconsciously nuzzle up to his touch. when your clothes are back on, he plants a tender kiss on your forehead and admires your flushed face from the shadows of your bedside. when the sun begins to rise and you stir in your ignorance, he'll sneak out and act as if nothing ever happened.
incel!shigaraki who doesn't deny that you're just another stupid slutty woman, but you're the only woman he'll ever want to cum inside of. when he returns to his room, he remembers to pull up your archived listing on his computer and dazedly taps away at his keyboard.
"10/10 recommend"
Okay, so here's where we're at apparently
Tomura is dead
Toga is dead (or, let's just call it as it is, she committed suicide) - this is despite the fact that if she died other characters (read: heroes) should have died as well, but didn't (Bakugo and Edgeshot for example)
Dabi is presumably still in the hospital (since we didn't see a funeral), unable to move or do anything on his own
Spinner wrote his book, but where he is and how he's actually doing is unknown - presumably he still has to deal with multiple quirks that aren't his own and are tearing at his body
Compress is alive but where he currently is is unknown - he read Spinner's book (and that's it)
Kurogiri exploded?? And nobody has bothered to mention anything about him since
Twice has been dead for a while, but his murderer is not only free of charge but also the head of the HPSC (which still exists btw)
Other things:
The hero ranking system still exists
Seemingly no real changes have been made which would help victims like the LOV before they felt like they had to turn to villainy to be heard/seen/understood
Deku gets to be a hero again by the power of ~technology~ - kinda making the whole deal about him losing his quirk feel pointless
Not from this chapter, but I still feel like it's very important to point out that it's heavily implied that Rei is just gonna take care of Enji (her abuser) now and probably for the rest of time
The few good things:
Ochako bringing more focus on mental health
That was it, I have nothing else
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18+, minor don't interact with the 18+ contentTomura shigaraki's biggest simpArtist, writter
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