Enough To Go By (Chapter 5) - A Shigaraki X F!Reader Fic

After that red-eyed Sun thing like... c'mon... we were all thinkin it

He talks a lotta shit for a guy within KISSING distance 😏

Reblogs greatly appreciated!

Skin Hunger (Chapter 3) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

There's no such thing as a good night at work when you work in the world's most infamous brothel for monsters, but your night takes a turn for the worse when you find yourself serving drinks to visiting half-vampire Shigaraki Tomura. You don't mean to catch his interest, and you don't mean to start a conversation. You definitely don't mean to get him drunk. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Chapter 3

“Do you ever think about leaving?”

That’s not a question you hear often. From anyone. “Do I what?”

“You heard me.”

You look up from the mess you’re wiping down on the pool deck of one of the suites in Asylum’s bathhouse wing. Shigaraki is watching you from one of the benches, finishing off the remains of a bottle of champagne the guests left behind. He raises his eyebrows, clearly waiting for an answer. You have one, but he won’t like it. “I don’t like thinking about things that won’t happen.”

“Why can’t it happen?” Shigaraki asks. He made his usual half-hearted offer to help when he followed you in here, but he’s allergic to almost every cleaning supply you use, and he’s so bad at it anyway that it’s faster for you to do it yourself. “Don’t you want to know what it’s like out there?”

“I know what it’s like out there,” you say, miffed. “I went to school out there. I’ve probably spent more time out there than you have.”

A few full moons back, the question of how you both got here came up. Shigaraki was about as disconcerted to learn that you were born in Asylum as you were to learn that his master first got ahold of him when he was five years old. “Then you know what you’re missing,” Shigaraki says. He takes a sip of champagne, then grimaces, probably because it went flat hours ago. “Do you ever think about leaving?”

“Everybody thinks about it.”

“What about you?”

You focus on your work, giving yourself time to think of a real answer. The bloodstain you’re scrubbing out of the tiles has probably been here longer than you’ve been alive, and a lot longer than you’ve known Shigaraki Tomura. After seven months, you’re getting better at ducking his questions. You’re getting worse at deciding which ones to duck in the first place.

Shigaraki’s master has come to Asylum to feed on every one of the last seven full moons, and each time, he’s brought Shigaraki with him. Shigaraki’s master comes to feed on the handpicked victims Overhaul and Chrono have found for him, while Shigaraki’s supposed to feed on whoever he can get his fangs into, but you’ve never seen him drink blood while he’s here. He’s hungry, usually. He usually drinks at least a little alcohol. And when he’s not eating, drinking, or conspicuously not drinking blood, he’s following you around.

You’ve stopped asking why he does it, around the same time as he stopped making excuses for why he’s supposed to. The two of you have settled awkwardly into the truth, which seems to be that if you’re both here, you’d rather spend time together than separately. It’s embarrassing for you to admit that the only new friend you’ve made here in the two years since you left the human world behind is one of the guests. It’s probably about as embarrassing for you as it would be for Shigaraki to admit that the person he’s come the closest to feeding from here is you, and he didn’t even draw blood.

“You know, I really thought we were past this,” Shigaraki says. You look up at him. “It’s not a trick question. Do you think about getting out of here or not?”

“You asked if I thought about leaving, and I said I don’t like to think about things that won’t happen. That implies that I have thought about it, and come to the conclusion that it’s not possible.” You go back to scrubbing. “What are you really asking?”

“Why you think you can’t leave.”

“I can’t blend in anymore,” you say. You raise one hand and tap your ear. Shigaraki’s eyes track the motion. “Most half-humans can pass as human at least some of the time, but I can’t. If it’s not my ears that catch someone’s attention, it’s my eyes. If it’s not my eyes, it’s my skin. There are enough things about me now that are just – off. And the human world might not be like it was in the freak-show days, but it’s still not a good place for people like me.”

“If I’m following your logic, I shouldn’t leave my lair, either. Since I can’t hide being a half-vampire.”

“You can, though,” you say. “I didn’t guess until you smiled.”

For Shigaraki, the price of walking freely in the human world would be never smiling where anyone could see it. That doesn’t seem right. Based on Shigaraki’s expression, your answers aren’t answers he likes. “So if you’re not leaving, what’s the plan? Cleaning up after guests forever? That is how long you live, right? Forever?”

“In theory.”

“You’re going to spend forever doing this.” Shigaraki’s voice is dark with scorn. “No way.”

“Why do you care if I stay here forever?” you ask, stung.

“Because it’s a shitty way to spend forever.”

“And being a vampire isn’t?”

You say it without thinking, and you regret it the instant it comes out of your mouth. Shigaraki looks like you’ve slapped him. His next words come out through clenched teeth. “Why do you think I’ve been putting it off?”

“You can put it off?” you say blankly. “How?”

Shigaraki takes another swig of champagne. You don’t know how much is left in the bottle, but if he’s planning to finish it, you’ve got a problem on your hands. “I have to kill someone,” he says. “To become a full vampire. Pick a victim, drain them completely from life to death, and that’s it. Immortality, special powers –”

Derision drips from his words. “All for the low, low price of never seeing the sun again and dying if I go too long without drinking blood. Who wouldn’t want to be a vampire?”

You know Overhaul has surveillance in each guest area. You don’t know if Shigaraki’s master is watching, or if Overhaul would tell him. “Shigaraki –”

“Except if I don’t become a full vampire,” Shigaraki continues, talking over you, “then I’m mortal. Weak. I’m useless to my master, and he’s already getting impatient.”

He drains the rest of the champagne bottle, then lowers it. It slips from his hand and shatters on the floor, and he startles, looking down at the shards of glass and then up at you, the slightest guilt on his face. “Sorry.”

You give up on the stain and hurry over, shooing him back from the broken glass. He tries to help you anyway, and you warn him off again, more firmly this time. “Stay back. I’ll do it.”

Shigaraki stays back from the glass, but stays close to you. “You don’t know what it’s like,” he says. “He wants me to do it. He says he’s patient, but he’s getting tired of waiting. I was supposed to do it here.”

“At Asylum?” You stop what you’re doing to look at him. “When?”

“The first time we were here,” Shigaraki says, and something lurches in your chest. “Your boss said I could have anyone in a maid’s uniform –”

And Chrono made sure you were in the bar, not wearing one. You didn’t know Overhaul had said that. Shigaraki is still talking. “And instead of killing a human servant I got drunk in the bar with you. We keep coming back, and I keep not doing it –”

“Because you’re hanging out with me,” you say. “Shigaraki, if this is getting you in trouble –”

“You didn’t ask me.”

“Hmm?”

“If I thought about leaving,” Shigaraki says. You keep looking at him, but he’s not looking at you – and he’s scratching again. “You’re supposed to ask if I’ve thought about leaving, so I can tell you –”

You catch the glint of a scrying mirror out of the corner of your eye and slap your hand over Shigaraki’s mouth. “Stop talking.”

Shigaraki’s mouth moves against your palm, setting off a weird buzz. “How come you’re always trying to shut me up?’

“Because I might not be the only one listening.” You leave your hand there for longer than you should. You know it’s longer than you should, because you wait long enough for the hair on your arms to stand up. “Be careful what you say in here. The walls have eyes and ears – and mouths, if you’re in the wrong room.”

“How come you haven’t taken me to see that?”

“I only get sent to clean up there if Chrono’s mad at me.”

Chrono’s been mad at you a lot recently. Everyone you work with thinks that’s why you’re avoiding him, but it isn’t – he’s mad because you’re avoiding him, and you’re avoiding him because you don’t want it to come down to sleeping with him or keeping your job. Like you told Shigaraki, you don’t have anywhere else to go. You know you can’t avoid him forever, just like you can’t stay here forever. But you’re immortal. You’ve got time to put things off.

Shigaraki doesn’t. Shigaraki’s mortal, still – and right now he’s inordinately trashed on champagne, again. You finish cleaning up the glass, decide that the pool deck’s as clean as it’s going to get, and turn to Shigaraki. “Come on. We need to find somewhere for you to sober up.”

“Can’t you use a glamour on me?”

“It’ll stick better if you sober up first,” you say. “It only holds as long as you don’t do anything to break it.”

He’s not making any effort to get off the floor. You hold out your hands and he takes them, swaying on his feet once he’s upright, blinking like his vision’s gone blurry. That’s – not good. You have a spot in mind to stash him while he dries out, but you might have a hard time getting him there. “Can you walk?”

“What if I can’t? Will you carry me?”

“We’ll definitely get caught.” You palm your master rune and glance around at the bathhouse. Asylum’s guest rooms don’t usually come with shortcuts, but you’ve gotten lucky sometimes with bathhouse rooms. “There might be another way out of here. Hang on.”

No passageways on the floor, in the walls, or on the ceiling. You go so far as to check underneath the bench Shigaraki was sprawled out on. There’s nothing there, but as you’re straightening up, you catch a glimpse of something at the bottom of the bath, flickering through the water. You straighten up, cross to the bath, and wade down the steps into the water. Shigaraki watches. “What are you doing?”

You don’t answer until you’ve ducked beneath the surface and confirmed your hunch. “We can sneak out through here. There’s a passage down there and I’m pretty sure I can make it open out somewhere else.”

Shigaraki doesn’t look happy. You can’t tell if that’s nausea or the idea of going in the water. “Wait, can half-vampires cross running water?”

“This isn’t running water.” Shigaraki levers himself upright, only to slump back again. “I can’t swim.”

“You won’t have to swim,” you promise. You beckon Shigaraki forward. “Let’s go. We don’t want to be here when the next guests come through.”

Shigaraki’s hesitant on his way down the steps and into the bath. He’s tall enough to stand if he keeps his chin tipped upwards, but you’re treading water, and your uniform is heavy when it’s wet. You dive beneath the surface and tap your master rune against the tiles at the bottom of the bath, and the passageway opens, sucking you and Shigaraki down into it without warning.

It’s a short trip, and the two of you splash down in a chamber lit not by gas lanterns, but by bioluminescent lichen and mushrooms growing on the walls. The pool you’ve landed in is warm, and shallow enough that both of you can stand. You head for the edge of the pool, and so does Shigaraki. “Where are we?”

“In the foundations, I think.” You find a rock to sit on, and Shigaraki sits down next to you on it. “When Overhaul built this place, he had to build the features that would fuel things like the hot springs. After he cast the spells to keep them from fluctuating, he got rid of most of the foundations – but I guess not all of them. I had no idea this was here until today.”

“I thought you knew everything about this place.”

“Not quite,” you say. “More than Overhaul, though. I’ll probably know all its secrets by the time I’ve been here forever.”

You don’t mean it to come out the way it sounds – bitter, frustrated, angry. Even though you and Shigaraki are as close as you can get to being friends given who you are, he’s still a guest, and you’re still a maid. Silence falls between the two of you, and you’re searching for a way to walk it back when Shigaraki speaks up again. “What if you didn’t have to?”

“What?”

“What if you didn’t have to stay here forever?” Shigaraki’s red eyes, strangely illuminated in the light of the glowing plants, are intent on your face. “What if you could leave? Would you?”

“I can’t leave, so it doesn’t matter.” You were hoping not to come back to this argument. “Can you drop it?”

“If you could,” Shigaraki presses. “If you could, would you leave?”

“And go where?”

“Anywhere,” Shigaraki says, like everything you said while the two of you were still in the bathhouse suite never happened – “With me.”

You stare at him. For a second you’re stunned into silence, but then you remember. “You’re drunk.”

“Yeah. I was too chicken to say it sober.” Shigaraki’s face is flushing, deeper than alcohol alone could cause. “You don’t have to spend the rest of your life like this. You can come with me and do something that matters.”

“Like what?” You brought him down here to sober up, but now he seems drunker than before. “Shigaraki, stop it. This isn’t how it works.”

“Says who?” Shigaraki’s hands grasp your shoulders, and you freeze. “Your boss? My master? They don’t get to make the rules. We do.”

You’ve had seven full moons to observe Shigaraki, and you’ve never seen him get this intense about anything. He’s practically vibrating, and while you can’t call the light in his eyes madness, it’s too close for comfort. “The world doesn’t care about us. So we should change it. Don’t you think?”

If you knew what to say, you’d say it. You look helplessly at him, and he leans closer, lowers his voice. “There are more of us than there are of them,” he says. Us? He must mean half-breeds, and he’s probably right, but why is he talking about it like it means something? “They can’t stop us all.”

He’s close enough that you can smell the champagne on his breath, the dry scent of his skin and the ever-so-slightly softer scent of whatever he uses to wash his hair. Not blood. You’ve never smelled blood on him. “So? What do you think?”

“Ask me when you’re sober,” you say. “Then I’ll know you mean it.”

You’re hoping he forgets. You think there’s a decent chance he will, and then you’ll be off the hook, because you don’t want to think about what he’s asking any more than you have to. Sure, he’s right. Sure, every inhuman species except the werewolves treats their half-human children like trash. And sure, there are more half-humans than there are true inhumans, but the number of true humans in the world dwarfs you all. It would be nice if some things could change. But you don’t think that one half-vampire and one half-fey can do anything about it.

You can’t do anything about it. But maybe you could leave.

You shove the thought away, hard. Your heart is racing. Shigaraki smiles at you, unworried, almost carefree. “If I mean it? I do.” One of the hands on your shoulder shifts, tracing the edge where the human skin of your shoulder meets the fey skin of your arm through your uniform. “But I can wait.”

His touch is ridiculously light, but it draws all your attention. You remember him asking about the other patches of fey skin on your body, about whether he could see them, and your mind floods with the thought of how that same light touch would feel around the edges of the other seams. You order yourself to pull it together, but not before your face flushes, and not before Shigaraki notices. He looks up from your shoulder. “What?”

Before you can answer, or more likely, dodge the question, there’s a tiny splash, followed by a sharp whistle through the air. You and Shigaraki lurch apart, just in time to miss one of Overhaul’s messages. It’s for you. You peel it open with a shakier hand than usual. Bring the half-vampire Shigaraki Tomura to Room 237 at once.

“What is it?” Shigaraki asks. “Are you in trouble?”

Someone is. You don’t think it’s you. “You’re being summoned,” you say. “Let’s go.”

The message said “at once”, but you detour to change into a dry uniform before you bring Shigaraki to Room 237. If he’s soaked, that’s one thing, but it can’t look as though you were involved at the same time. Room 237 is in use, but the door is ever so slightly ajar, and when you raise one hand to knock, it swings the rest of the way open. Chrono’s standing there. Past him, you can see an unconscious figure sprawled on the bed, chest rising and falling rapidly. And past even that, in the far corners of the room, is something – else.

“Come in,” Chrono invites, and Shigaraki steps forward. You couldn’t glamour away his wet clothes, but you at least concealed the fact that he’s drunk. That’s all you can do. You turn to go, and Chrono catches your arm. “You, too. Come inside.”

You hit the brakes, or try to. Chrono’s surprised you. He pulls you in, shutting the door and throwing the room into deeper shadow. The hairs on your arms and the back of your neck are rising. You don’t want to be here. You want to run. You need to run, but Chrono won’t let go of your arm, no matter how much you pull – and now the thing in the corner is speaking, its voice deep and cold. “Tomura,” it says, and Shigaraki’s spine goes rigid. “It seems my meal was too much for me. Be so kind as to finish it.”

You feel like you’re going to be sick. Chrono tightens his grip on your arm to the point of pain. “Make Overhaul heal her,” Shigaraki says. “Then you can finish another time.”

“I’m afraid that won’t do. Too much of her soul already belongs to me,” Shigaraki’s master says. The feeling of sickness wells up stronger than before. “I know you’ve been abstaining, and I certainly admire your commitment to taste, but you are unwell. Human food can only do so much. You need blood to sustain you, and this – I’m certain you’ll quite enjoy it.”

An enormous hand emerges from the shadows. One sharp finger presses against the unconscious woman’s neck and blood spurts out. Shigaraki’s body jerks. You see his hands curl into fists at his sides. “Hurry now,” his master says. “This was quite expensive. Don’t let it go to waste.”

Shigaraki steps forward. His knees hit the side of the bed, and he crawls onto it, his body obscuring the victim’s almost completely. You don’t see his teeth sink into her neck, but you know it’s happened by the way their bodies seize as one, his falling forward against her, her head falling back as her back arches to meet him without ever regaining consciousness. You’ve seen your share of unspeakable things at Asylum, and the only thought in your mind as you watch the victim writhe beneath Shigaraki in her death throes should be horror. It should be horror, but it isn’t. It’s – jealousy.

Not for what’s happening to her. You’d wish that on no one, not even your worst enemy, but jealousy for everything else; for the way he’s pressed against her, the way they seem to move in unison, the hideous intimacy of it all. Death and sex go hand in hand so often in this place, and yet they’ve never been so closely intertwined. The victim’s hand jerks weakly upwards in a last grasp for help, and Shigaraki catches it, holds it down, without pulling away from her throat. The sick, shameful, guilt-ridden fury that rises up within you gives you the strength to pull your arm free of Chrono’s grip at last.

He reaches for you, but you’re faster than he is, and you know Asylum well enough to evade him, slipping into a secret passage just behind the door. From there it’s sidestep after sidestep, taking you high into the upper reaches of the brothel, as far away from Room 237 as possible. No one can chase you here. Even if they knew where you were, you could get away long before they reached you. You could stay in Asylum forever, if you wanted, and no one would ever lay eyes on you again.

But no matter how far you run, some part of you will still be trapped in Room 237, still watching Shigaraki drain the last few drops of blood from a victim who was already gone, still seething with jealousy. No matter how you try to shake the thought off, it clings to you. Shigaraki will drink from thousands over the course of his life as a vampire. Scenes like the one you saw tonight will play out thousands of times, that twisted intimacy unfolding over and over again. More intimacy of any kind than you’ll ever have with him.

You hadn’t realized you wanted it so badly. You hadn’t realized you wanted it at all, but now you do – and now it’s too late.

You shirk your duties until the full moon dips below Asylum’s false horizon, and once you’re certain Shigaraki and his master are gone, you come back to face whatever punishment Overhaul sees fit to levy. But Overhaul doesn’t seem to know. He commends you flatly for keeping Shigaraki out of any expensive varieties of trouble and goes back to tallying the night’s earnings, leaving Chrono responsible for dealing with you.

“Instructive, wasn’t that?” Chrono says to you, almost smugly. “The sight of a vampire feeding often provokes intense emotions. Perhaps we should sell tickets.”

You clench your jaw, but the question escapes anyway. “Why did you make me watch?”

“I know you’ve grown fond of the master vampire’s brat,” Chrono says. “Experience has given me certain advantages to share with you, such as the knowledge that nothing will ever matter more to a vampire than its pursuit of blood. Did you think Shigaraki Tomura cared for you? He will always care for his meals more.”

Of course he will. Why wouldn’t he? There’s nothing you could offer that would compare to that. “Does the knowledge wound you?” Chrono inquires. “You need not answer. I can see it.”

“Then why ask?” Your voice is dull.

“If it wounds you deeply, I apologize,” Chrono says. “Perhaps you’ll allow me to comfort you.”

You hear what he’s actually offering, and some part of you that still has the capacity for anger and betrayal is furious with him. Some part of you feels more hatred for him than for anyone in your entire life – for destroying the only friendship you had in order to corner you into giving in to him. That piece of you rebels. The rest of you is too numb and hurt to care. Maybe this will fix you, comfort you, distract you. You’ll feel something different, if nothing else.

Just as he knew he’d struck true before, Chrono knows he’s won. He holds out his hand to you, and you take it, giving in your fate at last.

picking a play fight with Tomura, swatting him with with a pillow as he pouts about you beating Baldur at your fisrt try in God Of War. the fucker took him out at least four times! you know it's all fun and games, and he even hits you back a few times, but when he throws you on his bed, annoyed, you feel genuinely overpowered. you made the mistake of thinking that just because he is skinnier and smaller than you, he's not too tough either. because really, who is not bigger than Tomura?

so you giggle and try your hardest to wriggle out of his iron grip on your wrists, but you realize that it's impossible; he's too strong, much to your surprise. the way his face gets all smug at your slightly nervous expression makes you suddenly feel the fear of knowing that he could do whatever he wanted with you and you wouldn't be able to escape him. you can't do a thing squashed under him or even move much with how firm his hold is. he can actually toss your body around however he pleases. such vulnerability makes you tremble a bit.

Tomura lets out a small, boyish laugh at your dumbfounded face and releases you, going back to his controller. the shit eating grin he has on his face tells you that he's so fucking proud of himself. that's right, i'm still superior. i still can take you in a real fight kind of stuff going through his head. little does he know how thrilled you are while challenging him in other games, secretly hoping he'll get angry and pin you down again. you're actually hoping for some consequences this time.

Indulge me for a moment

I know some people don’t like it when you try to psychoanalyse fictional characters, but it’s fun so here we are. There’s one particular category of behaviour that I would like to discuss in regards to Shigaraki Tomura.

This is gonna be a long one. Sorry XP

Afficher davantage

that is a work of art ! Thanks to @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love

She is an incredible writer, go take a look at her account !❤️✨

I had a request for a little smut or just a little réaction: If the number one hero of France ( us, the reader) came to Japan for helping them win against tomura and all for one but insted she save tomura for all for one because she love him so much ( even if it is the first time she see him)

Ok so I wanted to use a tiny bit of French I used Google for translation so I hope it's correct.

Rencontre 

Rated Mature 18 + Smut 2100+ words

For Tomura it's love at first sight the second his eyes fall on you. He was in awe of the stunning beauty before him, speechless as his eyes took in every inch of you. Dirty thoughts of all the things he'd like to do to you cloud his mind, distracting him from the fight. The heroes take note of his hesitation and go to deal him a fatal blow. But all of a sudden they are unable to move, paralyzed on the spot. Confusion etched on Tomura's face as he stares at Endeavor and Miruko frozen in mid move.

"I bought you time" you explain before turning to Kurogiri, "you teleport right? get Shigaraki out of here". Shigaraki looks at you, stunned at your words and the cute way you pronounce them doesn't go unnoticed by him either as his pants get tighter. What a sexy accent, he thinks to himself, his injuries forgotten. The only thing on his mind is the hot french girl in front of him who happens to be a hero who listens to him, who's helping him! He can't believe it as he stares in shock.

Kurogiri starts to transport him away, but right before the mist man does the vanishing act Shigaraki races to your location across the battlefield, wrapping his arms around your waist, grabbing his pretty french girl and the three of you disappear to his hideout leaving the remaining heroes angered at being betrayed by one of their own.

Once safe Tomura inquires about your motives. Listening as you tell him you understand his side, that he made you question things and see them in a different light, you agreed that the hero system is corrupt. How you know what it's like to feel misunderstood and left.

That's all it takes. Shigaraki's control snaps in a heartbeat. All his pent up sexual feelings and frustration boil over. All the years of being alone, never having a lover, he cant take it anymore. He pins you against the closest wall. Lips attacking your neck. Hands roaming over your soft, supple flesh, relishing in the intimate contact of skin on skin. You make no attempt to stop him, instead you thread your fingers through his hair, moaning as his mouth latches onto your neck. 

"I need you" was all you heard before his mouth hungrily devoured you, while his fingers dance over your body, every curve, every dip, groping and squeezing, appreciating all you have to offer. The need to feel and suck every inch of you is all he can think about. His wounds don't matter, only you and the pleasure he will take inside you.

You don't fight your own feelings either as you let yourself go, happy to receive what he's giving. Touching his toned chest, feeling every flex and ripple of his muscles with each movement. Your lips leave a trail of hickeys across his neck till they meet his in a clash of wills that he easily wins. The way he's grunting in approval, the feeling of his blood-soaked chest staining your clothes just adds to the hungry desire between you.

His busy fingers find their way inside your costume. "Oh what's this, no panties, you dirty girl" he growls with a smirk and you feel yourself getting wetter from his words and the husky tone of his voice. You lean your head back, greedily asking for more, moaning at the sensation. Shigaraki chuckles" you want this don't you. Say it" he demands. "Tell me you want me"

"I want it monsieur Shigaraki," you say, your heavy french accent has Tomura's cock twitching and the way your eyes drink in his body makes it tough for him to keep himself in check, wanting nothing more than to give you what you, and he, are both so desperate for.

"Take your clothes off" he purrs, taking a step back. "I want to see you undress for me". Sure he could easily decay the weak fabric but he wants to see you bare yourself to him willingly.

Shimming out of your clothes you keep your eyes on him. Watching as his ravenous gaze travels over your form. The seductive, feral look only has you getting more aroused. He looks as if he will snap any second, barley contained urges boil to the surface, threatening to spill out. You bite your lip noticing the impressive bulge hidden in his pants.

A wicked idea makes you stop in your tracks. Covering your exposed nude body with your hands, your legs crossed to hide what he wants most.  Innocently you look up at him, lips in a pout. With your shyest voice you say "but I'm a good hero sir, this is wrong" the tiniest smile lurking beneath the surface giving away your true intent.

Tomura catches on to your innocent act. An unhinged grin takes over his handsome face giving him an even more dangerous look adding to the thrill of your situation.

"Oh it is wrong little lamb, but you like that don't you. I know you want my cock. It's OK, it'll be our little secret hero." His hand grabs your thigh, squeezing it tightly, "now spread your legs or do I need to force them open" his raspy tone serving to turn you on more. But you don't move, choosing to play this game. Wanting him to take charge.

A growl escapes him as his hands slide between your legs, roughly pushing them nice and wide. Wasting no time he kneels in front of you. Before you can even register what he was fixing to do his tongue begins lapping at your core, drawing his name over your Puffy slit. His breath is hot against your core. Your hands run through his white locks as your eyes close, losing yourself to how he's making you feel.

"Fuck Shigaraki" you cuss when his tongue starts flicking over your clit. The sensation has you whimpering in need as your legs tremble next to his head, making it hard to stay on your feet. The texture of his tongue running over the most sensitive part of you has your slick soaking his mouth.

Looking down your eyes lock with his own half lidded ruby ones. You can't even form a coherent sentence. All you know is the pleasure the villain king is delivering. Your fingers still threading through his soft hair, gripping at the long strands, trying to grab onto something.

The erotic way you are moaning his name between cute pleads for more drive Tomura crazy, it's like something from a fantasy he's had way too many times. But this time it's real, and with a woman hotter than he could imagine.

Determined to make you cum he increases his speed, reveling in how sweet you taste, God he could drink every drop of your juices . He knows you are close by the way your voice hitches. Slipping  two long fingers inside you, he turns and curls them, while his thumb rubs your little nub. Your legs are visibly shaking. Shigaraki watches how beautiful your face is, the emotions that veil it, the wanton need it shows, the blanton hunger for him, and he delivers. He feels your insides tighten and juices leak out of your cunt as your orgasm washes over you. Diving to lick them up he doesn't miss a drop.

You haven't even come down from your high when you're pulled to the floor underneath him. His toned body covers yours in an instant. Lips meet in an intense dance of passion, mingling together, both battling for dominance. You can taste yourself in his kiss but you don't care, you find it erotic. 

His hand tugs at the zipper on his pants, eagerly pushing them to his knees freeing his twitching erection. The primal way he grunts has you spiraling into the depths of rapture and you never want to come back. You can feel the heat from his cock as he guides the tip back and forth over your slit, collecting the wetness that's already pooling at your pussy once again, mixing with his own precum.

Your body shivers with unrestrained desire for the very man you were assigned to take down. You can't help but smile at the double meaning of the words, well technically you did take him down. Shigaraki notices your grin and gives his own sexy smirk in return.

"God you're so wet. You want me so bad dont cha" Don't worry my pretty hero, I'm gonna fuck you real good, I'll make this tight pussy drink my cum Ma beauté." You're shocked, he knows French, but you're quickly brought out of your surprise by his fat cock forcing its way inside you.

Your hands grab onto his shoulders, nails leaving crescent marks on his skin. Gasping at the intrusion. Your walls are trying to expand enough for him, struggling to make room for him. Whimpering cries leave you as he sinks deeper and deeper till he bottoms out. His balls flush against your ass. Your pussy stretched so wide around his fat length. The head of his cock resting on that perfect spot, making you shudder. You've never felt so unbelievably full. He gave you only a minute to adjust to him before starting to slowly move. You try to catch your breath as the large dick repeatedly pushes in and out of your tight cunt.

"You like that, my little lamb. You like being impaled on my cock don't you, such a tight pussy for me" he snickered. All you could do in response was whimper as your fingers dug harder into his arms.

With every thrust your walls seemed to cling onto him more and more, not wanting to let him go. You felt so soft and warm surrounding his manhood, massaging him with every jerk of his hips. You felt so good, words couldn't describe how amazing you were making him feel. 

He was done holding back. He was going faster and faster now, his movements more erratic, and you could swear you felt his length pulsing, and it was so warm and thick. With each thrust his tip hit the gummy spot in your depths sending tingles up your spine as heat started to spiral outward from your belly but right before you came yet again he pulled out, leaving you empty and desperate.

Shigaraki chuckles at your frustrated cry before flipping  you over so you were on your hands and knees before him. Then in one quick stroke he was buried back inside your slick pussy. Causing you to groan like a whore, you withered beneath him as he filled you again. 

He was starved for the way your cunt constricted around him, never wanting to leave it, craving more. His calloused hands held onto your hips, controlling you, making you rock back onto him. Lewd slapping sounds of wet skin on skin echoed through the room as he used your dripping, needy hole. His pace increased even more when he felt your pussy flutter and spasm. His cock was soaked with your juices that were leaking out of you and he felt his own orgasm building.

"Fuck look at how wet you are my sweet, how many times have you cum on my evil cock." But you couldn't answer, all you could do was push back against him, grinding on him as you cried in pleasure.

"S'il te plaît Shigaraki" you begged. 

"I love how you say my name baby. I'm gonna give it all to you now. Gonna pump you full of my cum" he grunted. And with that he pounded into you roughly, nearly pulling all the way out before slamming back in, assaulting your g spot till you screamed his name, soaking his cock with your release. 

"Good little hero" he praised as he thrust a few more times, and with one final push he came so hard. "Fuck" he growled like a beast, empty his milky cum in your waiting pussy. You felt every spurt of his hot seed as it sprayed your pretty walls, coating your insides. 

The only sound in the room was deep breathing as you both tried to catch your breath. Leaning back he grabbed your waist so you were sitting in his lap, sticking with the evidence of your encounter. He pressed his forehead to yours and asked simply, "regrets". 

"Not a single damn one" you hummed.

"Good, then you won't hate me when I keep you Ma beauté, you are mine" he says. The happy smile you give in return has his heart skipping a beat. 

"And you Tomura Shigaraki, are mine" 

Summary: You’re trying to recover from what happened, but it’s hard to forget; especially when you know he’ll be back for you one day. Your commutes home have never been so stressful.

Mean!Yandere!Shigaraki x Bimbo!Reader

⚠️ mdni. a splash of horror. dark content. degradation. exhibitionism. fingering. incel. misogyny. noncon. sexism. thoughts of death and dying. victim-blaming. voyeurism. yandere.

Previous l

You go straight to the cops upon fleeing from Shigaraki. You understand why he let you escape when the officers stifle chuckles. You don’t have anything but your word to support the bold accusation that the leader of the Paranormal Liberation Front is trying to rape you. Saying it aloud sounds more ridiculous than the way it echoes in your thoughts.

You check the forum. Crumbleking’s post was deleted days ago. The account he used is gone, too. Your Instagram yielded similar results.

At the very least, they believe that someone entered your apartment and assaulted you. His identity being Tomura Shigaraki is highly contested. They send someone over to investigate your home. Much to your chagrin, the officer returns with a clean report. According to his examination, nothing in the space was disturbed. There was no sign of a break and enter.

It’s funny. When you stumbled towards the window, desperate for safety, you recall knocking over a table and shattering the vase. If nothing was disturbed, did your assailant clean up the mess…?

You ration that he had to have, and your heart almost stops. He’s ballsy for that one. You suppose he’s confident in his plan to enact revenge on you. He considers himself invincible, and he damn well might be. But everyone has a weakness.

You’re not stupid enough to think this is over. You aren’t keen to relax now that you’ve alerted the authorities. Will the cops who laughed at you rush to your aid when he inevitably returns for a second try? Doubtful. You’re responsible for protecting yourself.

You submit a police report anyway. They don’t include a name for the suspect because they don’t buy your allegation. It’s enough to simply have the document on file.

You don’t return to your apartment that evening — at least, not by yourself. You explain what happened to a friend. She lives in a beautiful, isolated rural area, about an hour out of town; nevertheless, upon hearing your bad news she drives all the way to pick you up at the station. A stoic, shivering mess, she works to reassure you. Nothing works. Nothing is helpful. She takes you back to her house after grabbing some essentials at your place.

Entering your space felt foreign and uncomfortable. You found yourself jumping at the slightest creak. Nothing was familiar. And you were correct about the vase — someone cleaned it up.

The days following your attack involve negotiating a lease break with your landlord. Fortunately, you’ve lived here long enough to establish a solid rapport with him. He keeps your deposit for last month’s rent and permits you to leave by the end of the week. You do so discreetly.

Gradually, you transport your essentials into your car. On the last day of your lease, you hire movers to bring your larger furniture to a storage unit. You promise your friend it’ll only be for a few weeks, and you mean that — for her sake. Although she comprehends the risks, she still agreed to help you; nonetheless, you don’t believe she’ll be spared if Shigaraki discovers your location.

You quit your job. A new one isn’t difficult to find. It’s in a different city. If all goes well, you figure you’ll move into a nearby apartment and lay low.

The next week or so is quiet. You maintain awareness of your surroundings but nothing happens. It’s as though he’s biding his time… or maybe witnessing you walking on eggshells is precisely what he wants.

Shigaraki is a busy man. He doesn’t have the energy to spend haunting you, a civilian who once talked shit about him online. There are bigger fish to fry. According to him, he gets enough women at home, anyway. It’s likely that you’ll never see him again.

Oh, you poor, naive woman; so willing to believe the logical lies your nervous brain feeds you.

It’s six o’clock in the evening, two weeks after your encounter with the dust villain. You stand on the subway terminal and glare down the tracks. There are a few other people there with you. No one you recognize.

To get to your friend’s residence, you have to take the 2216 train to the very end, walk for fifteen minutes, and catch the bus. It’s a dreadful commute. You’re saving up to buy a used car. But until then, you’ll just have to deal with the time vampirism that comes with sneaking around.

Five minutes into your gruelling wait, the train squeals into the terminal, dim yellow lights flickering as it grinds to a jittery halt. Its doors jerk open with a soft ding. You enter the cabin. As usual, it’s crowded at this time of night. Everyone else is commuting home, too. They get on at the station right before yours, taking up all the seats and more than half the standing space.

You walk down a bit and stand between two men conversing with seated passengers. There’s a group of stylish women next to you, chattering eagerly about their evening plans, and a few scattered friends on the opposite side, dazed and distracted after a long work day. It’s compact, but not uncomfortable yet.

Your hand dips into your pocket. When your fingers don’t find what they’re looking for, you grimace. No earbuds. Great. You must have forgotten them at work.

The train stops at another terminal. More people shuffle on board. The trip commences.

You close your eyes and meditate. Honing in on your breathing, you feel the air entering and leaving your lungs. The sensation is serene. You sigh gingerly as the background noise lessens a bit. Sadly, your peace doesn’t last for long.

Something swipes across your butt. Your spine grows rigid. Accidents happen on packed subways, but that? That didn’t feel like a mistake. You hold your breath as you wait, positive your assailant will make a second move. He doesn’t keep you in suspense for long.

He grabs a handful of your ass, squeezing the flesh tightly. You gasp. A swift, gloved hand covers your mouth. The textured fabric is rough against your skin.

“Shut the fuck up, you little slut.”

Your assailant’s familiar, raspy voice sends a chill through your entire body. Without a doubt, Tomura Shigaraki is behind you. You were a fool to believe he was gone for good. He had to return, didn’t he? If only to put you in your place.

“If you overreact, I’ll dust this entire cabin.” He warns. “Let me do what I want, and maybe you’ll get to leave alive.”

Why wouldn’t he kill you and everyone on this train? It’s not like you’re special. Once you’re dead, he’ll simply find another person to harass. And the people around you? No one significant. He’d probably garner a lot of attention if he committed mass murder.

But all the same, it’s impossible for you to understand the sick feelings he harbours for you in his heart, and the way they grow every time he sees you. It isn’t love. It isn’t lust. It’s a sensation that’s incomprehensibly sinister in its somber nature; a volatile melange of emotions that frightens even him. You have no idea the lengths he would go to for the sake of preserving your life; he’s not finished toying with you yet.

He releases your ass and uncovers your mouth. Securing a palm firmly to your hip, he slithers his other hand up your skirt. Slipping your panties aside, he finds your clit. His index fingers massages slow circles over your twitching nub, eliciting a delicious exhale.

He dreamed of this moment for weeks. He fantasized about bearing claim to you in public, where anyone can watch. He’s about to be the God of this world, isn’t he? He can do as he pleases, and to hell with the consequences. When he possesses rule, he’ll have you cockwarm him on his throne all day long. By that time, you’ll surely know your place beneath his muddy boot.

He teases the lips of your cunt with his sharp fingernail, gliding it gently over the edge of your small hole. He pinches your thigh when you attempt to press your legs together. He won’t let you deny him entry to what’s his.

“I’m wearing gloves that cancel out my quirk.” He mutters darkly. “But if you don’t cooperate, I’ll take them off and activate it right here.”

He twists your clit between his thumb and index finger. The horrifying thoughts causes a stray tear to drip down your cheek. You don’t want to imagine how that would feel.

“Sorry,” you whisper pathetically. “I-I will.”

Picking up the tone of your voice, the man next to you turns around. Shigaraki removes his hand from beneath your skirt and wraps both arms around your waist. He lifts a brow when the stranger acknowledges both of you. To him, it looks like you’re a couple commuting home together. He has no concept of what’s truly going on; that if you don’t obey, him, and everyone else on this train, will die. Ignorant, he smiles and returns to his trivial conversation.

“Didn’t I tell you to shut the fuck up?” The villain growls viciously. “Second strike, whore.”

You understand that the third strike will be your last.

You glance over your shoulder. He’s wearing a black face mask to match a large, baggy sweater. Crimson irises leer at you menacingly. He has his hood pulled over a head of shaggy, unkempt hair. It’s no wonder he hasn’t been recognized; his signature traits — like the hand covering his face, or his pastel tresses — are hidden from sight.

Just as you’re drinking in his appearance, he’s basking in yours. You look even better than the photos you put up on your social media account. He managed to save a few before you deleted it. He stares at them when he’s fucking his hand to the notion of capturing and taming you. He cums the hardest to porn where women are nothing more than brain dead sex slaves; that’s what he envisions for you.

Of course, submissive bitches aren’t born obedient; they need to be whipped into shape. He thinks the fight you put up is the best part about the training process. When you’re unruly, it forces him to be crueller. He wonders when you’ll pick up on that. It doesn’t have to hurt if you simply comply.

As much as he’s intrigued to witness you up close, he’s pissed at you for wearing a skirt today. Don’t you know the meaning of decency? Anyone could have molested you on the train. It’s practically a cultural norm for cute women to get harassed during their commute. He’s going to teach your pussy who it belongs to. Then, next time you go to work m, you might think twice before wearing a garment that’s easy access.

You face forward, when he grasps your shoulders. Slowly, his hands slide down to your hands, stopping to give them an affectionate squeeze, in case there are curious voyeurs. He wants to make this look as organic as possible.

From behind, he lifts up your skirt and pulls your panties aside. The fabric bites into your flesh, no doubt giving you a rash on the crease of your crotch. He’s careless with his motions; this is all about him. Discomfort is a sensation you should become dearly acquainted with.

“Did you miss me?”

You bite your lower lip when his digits discover your clit. Your back arches as they map out the nub, teasing your hooded flesh to see what your pussy needs to drip. It doesn’t take much. You can’t distract yourself from his touches. There’s nothing stimulating; merely the backs of strangers who couldn’t save you if they tried.

Inwardly, you sob. You have no control. Even your own body is betraying you.

He dips a finger between your folds and hums when he discovers how wet you are. Running the length of his index finger along your clit, he snickers. He knew you were in denial. You must want him. He’ll be damned if he doesn’t get you to admit your desire by the end of your trip back to the Deika City.

“Feels like it.”

You frantically scope the sea of people. You’re between several, so you think you’re clear from view; then, you catch the eye of an older businessman. He’s staring directly at your crotch, where Shigaraki’s fingers are massaging your puffy clit. You bite the inside of your cheek. He knows what’s going on. You bet he’s been enjoying the show. You can’t count on a pig like him to save you.

You repress a sob, utterly humiliated. You haven’t felt this degraded in your life. You’re being groped by Japan’s most notorious villain while a lustful stranger observes.

“I bet you thought you got away from me, didn’t you?” He snarls. “Thought I’d forgotten about you.”

You’re too embarrassed to admit it. You fell right into his trap. Somehow, he knew you would lower your guard after a while. It’s precisely when you set it down completely that he struck. You’re either extremely predictable or he has incredible intuition.

He removes his hand from your underwear and brings it around to your chest. You feel your juices coat your skin and shudder. You can’t believe your body got wet for this disgusting motherfucker.

His nasty fingers claw at the buttons of your blouse. One of them pops off. It shoots diagonal, striking one of the windows. A passenger picks it up and glances around. You lock eyes with her. Instantly, she notices what’s going on. Unlike the businessman from earlier, however, you know she has the intention to act. It sparks a flame of hope in your heart.

A few men shift and shroud her from view. It’s probably for the best. Shigaraki’s digits locate your nipple soon after, dipping beneath your bra to pinch the responsive flesh. You stifle a shriek when his plucking becomes too much.

“I’m going to take you back with me and tie you up in the middle of our courtyard,” he whispers hoarsely, voice dripping with desire. “I’m sure some of our soldiers could use a bit of stress relief.”

You gag. You’ll die abused, beaten, starved, and dehydrated — a prisoner of war because you mouthed off on the Internet. This is so stupid.

Your captor groans softly as he withdraws his hand from your breast and slides a lithe finger past your folds, sheathing it up to his knuckle. He can tell it hurts. Your pain makes him enjoy it more. You stiffen and bite your lower lip.

The vehicle jolts to a halt again. The system announces that this is Jolicoeur Station, the second last stop on the line. That means you’re nearly there. He hums approvingly when the doors shut.

“Time’s almost up, whore.”

You don’t know what the fuck that means. Is he going to kill you or bring you to his base? Only time will tell, you suppose. For now, you want his sharp fingernail away from your cervix. You wriggle, praying he’ll at least stop jiggling it around. It isn’t long until he does, though he makes it clear he withdrew if his own volition; he can’t have you thinking you have a modicum of power over him, can he?

He’ll treat you like you’re nothing — a lifetime of serving him will drill that into your pretty head. He’ll never let you understand your real worth again when you’re under his brutal care. Beneath his boot is where you’ll remain.

The train lunges to another ungrateful stop. Your heart drops. This is it — the end of the line. Shigaraki touches you with both hands from behind, drumming his clothed fingers atop your shoulders.

“When the doors open, walk.” He instructs you. “We’ll pretend we’re a couple.”

You want to throw up. He’s forcing you to act like his lover after playing with you against your will. You’ll be damned if you go down without a fight. If you see an opening to ditch him, you’re going to take it; to hell with considering the consequences of being caught a third time.

He smooths your clothes out from how he rumpled them. He figures it’ll seem more natural if you appear relatively put together. He fixes your blouse and then moved to your skirt. To onlookers, it’s probably cute — a boyfriend tending to his girlfriend. They have no idea about the undertones of his treatment.

As if on cue, the woman from earlier coaxes your gaze back to hers. She licks her lips and reaches for the emergency switch. Your mouth opens. You know what she’s trying to do. It’s perfect. He won’t expect it because he thinks he’s in the clear.

You nod once. She takes that as your signal to proceed m. With a visible grunt, she yanks the switch down. Reprieve floods your chest as soon as you hear the alarm.

You have to go.

Now.

The doors of the train freeze. In a panic, everyone races out of the car. You follow suit. The second you sense his grip slacken, you bolt. As you scurry off the car, you feel Shigaraki’s greedy hand reach for you — gloveless. You scream. Your voice blends in with the rest of the cacophony, shielding you from unwanted attention.

You glance over your shoulder. Everything around you slows down. He’s standing in the sea of people, still and glaring. His hood is pulled down and his mask is hanging off one ear. His scarred lips are contorted in a grimace.

For a brief moment, an understanding is met. Today, both of you learned that the other is not to be underestimated. After this little stunt, you’re his main priority. He hopes you’re prepared to take this game just as seriously, because he won’t stop pursuing you unless he’s killed. And he knows that won’t happen anytime soon.

You turn away from him and finish your flight. Like last time, he permits you to escape. He stays glued in place until nearly everyone else has left the terminal; then, he departs.

You have no idea the demons you’ve awakened inside him.

—

Suggestions for kinks to write in the next parts are welcome :)

bachata baby | (s)

apart of the meet cute: gone wrong series, click here for more!

pairing: shigaraki tomura x reader

words: 8.7k

prompt: "getting paired up at a dance class"

warnings: enemies to lovers, cunnilingus, dom!shigaraki, sensual dancing, tit play, fingering, hand kink, doggystyle, protected sex, alcohol, frat party, complicated relationship

  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.

hi heinous 🖤 i'd love to know your filthy thoughts about shigaraki and his kinks/fetishes 🤭 i have thoughts of my own (ahem,, piss kink) but i'd love to know what YOU think 🥰 alr i'm getting shy TOODLES

Hey you. Yeah you. Don’t get all shy now!~

Ahaaaa, Shiggy kinks. You ask the wrong person because I’m going to give some of the most obscure/disgusting answers.

But you did come lookin’ for me~

Piss

Oh my god, it’s clear as day how fucking disgusting this man’s piss is. With zero regard for his dietary needs when he’s still in his gamer-boy era, his piss is likely rancid. Not that he’s ever had the chance to get with anyone consensually, but he’s a quick study when he comes to watching such a demeaning act be performed on his weird kink sites.

The day he does manage to fucking do it, he’s absolutely giddy and making the most obnoxiously cute chuckles about it, which his poor victim date interprets as creepy. It takes him a minute to not be hard as fuck during this, standing over them and making sure he can hook his fingers into their unwilling mouth before pissing his heart out.

Fantasy fulfilled.

Ryona / Whumping

Kinda obscure. Lemme explain: Y’know what a sick fuck like Shigaraki does in his free time Besides sit in front of the computer and play LOL? It’s watch compilations of heroes in tatters.

Clothes ripping, bruises and upper cuts to the face. He’s obviously got no incentive to cheer them on, but my god does it just get him keening to watch some pretty hero be put in their place!~

But the fight clips from YouTube won’t do it for him — oh no, soon enough he’s gotten himself into a filthy rabbit hole where he’s compiling, buying, and selling the depraved medium from the darkest corners of the internet, all so he can watch and partake in kidnapping livestreams of his favorite heroes.

They’re Spat on, stepped on, kicked, and punted till they whimper like animals. Put that in tandem with yanking a cute, femme hero by her hair and ripping away her mask, and he’s busting into his hand shortly after. Yes. the revelation of their identity being exposed, their cries of humiliation through the stuffy speakers, the last of their dignity lost.

When he’s finally in his prime, beefed up and killing heroes, he just can’t help himself from fulfilling another depraved fantasy when he sees a poor, disarmed hero cradling themselves in a corner. Not safe from Tomura Shigaraki.

Worship

Tomura cares little for the affirmation of those he wanted to destroy, conquering and destroying anything that gets in his way. But the absolute last thing he ever imagined was being treated like a king, heralded as the symbol of fear.

Obviously, he’s gonna have fans. Groupies. And worse, willing playthings who’d go above and beyond to kiss the feet and hands of their beloved leader — a beautiful, hatred-riddled god.

He sits poised on a stone throne, boredom evident on his face when he’s approached time and time again by the swarms of adoring followers. They peel back his layers, adorning him in fleurs and delicate dainty trinkets — a complete juxtapose to his chapped demeanor.

The kneeling, the cultic mannerisms… the begging to be used and abused, having women, men and anyone in between plead for him to grace then with helpings his rich cum — breed them. The way his groveling followers do the most humiliating things for him, whatever he asks. Anything.

He eats that shit up, and it gets him living out that power fantasy he’d always wanted.

“So this is what winning a war feels like?”

“Tomura, your royal penis is clean—“

He always did value loyalty and chivalry.

Shiggy Drug Dealer to Yandere HCs

Yandere!Shigaraki Tomura x Fem!Reader (you’re 18+ but still not old enough to buy alcohol)

Warnings: Yandere themes, NSFW (drugs, alcohol, and murder), mention of erection, Shiggy wants you, controlling/possessive yandere, conditioning, characters 18+

Master List

Note: I’m not hating on anyone who chooses to do weed for medical/recreational purposes. This is just my take on Shiggy as a drug dealer who ends up falling in love with you.

@palesweetscherryblossom

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Just thinking about Drug Dealer turned Yandere Shigaraki.

He loves you so much that he stopped selling to you. He doesn’t give a shit about anyone else. He just wants you sober.

It pains him because now he doesn’t have a good excuse to see you anymore, but he still wants you to get clean.

He ends up stalking you, trying to just “coincidentally” run into you at some convenience store.

“Hey, I haven’t seen you in a while! How have you been doing?”

As if he doesn’t already know.

You tell him that you’re getting your drugs from Dabi now, and he knows, but he has to act like he doesn’t know.

Shiggy lies and tells you that Dabi puts fetenal in his weed. He tells you that Dabi mixes weed with a mixture of shit that could put down a horse.

“Imagine what that shit could do to you, Y/N.”

And you’re thinking about going to Twice or Spinner. You ask Shiggy about them because he really does seem genuine, but he makes up some shit about them being untrustworthy as well.

“Twice is schizo or some shit, and Spinner’s only in it to get girls high and then feel them up.”

You’re immediately put off by all three, and you pout slightly as you try to think of some way to just get some good fucking weed. So you ask him.

He literally sighs and looks away from you.

“Maybe…you should just stop. You…should enjoy your life sober. Stop putting that shit in your body.”

He wants to control you, but he doesn’t want to scare you. If you were his girl, he’d make sure you knew the rules. No drugs. You can drink if you want, but he’ll be there to supervise.

But you’re not his girl, not yet anyway.

You ask Shigaraki why he cares so much.

“Because…you’re actually a decent human being, and you deserve better.”

You can’t help but feel your heart pound and flutter.

You deserve better he says.

It makes you blush, even if it is an awkwardly phrased compliment.

You thank him and tell him you’ll think about staying clean.

However, when Shigaraki gets wind that you’re trying to contact some drug dealers around Japan, he can’t help but *intervene*.

Intervene as in kill them all. He has the power and the means to do it.

And suddenly, you’re left crawling back to Shigaraki on hands and knees. It’s a welcoming sight. You knocking at his door, eyes red and puffy from all of the stress in your life. You’ve been crying, you can’t stomach any food because of the anxiety, you can’t sleep because of the loud thoughts which race well into the night. You’ve been surviving on maybe two or three hours of sleep every night if you’re lucky.

The way you look makes his dick hard, but he pushes all of his urges down as he invites you inside.

No, he still won’t give you drugs, but he offers you a drink under his supervision. A little vodka shot. One. Only one. It’s not even half a shot glass. Basically just a third. It doesn’t get you drunk…

But it does take a bit of the edge off.

You do end up crashing at Shigaraki’s place, and his bed sheets smell like sandalwood and something synthetic like chemical spice, and his pillow is a little too thin for your liking, and his sweatshirt that he loans you is big and comfortable.

You fall asleep under the fleece blanket, not thinking as much, not feeling as much, so you finally manage to get seven hours of sleep.

It’s so good.

You don’t even notice that Shiggy is conditioning you. You, not being old enough to buy alcohol yet. You, only managing to fall asleep because of the tiny shot that Shigaraki supplies. You, feeling safe enough to fall asleep next to a warm body. You, waking up and feeling better than you ever have in the last few months. You, actually feeling up to eating breakfast, a meal you’ve gone without for a while now.

It’s all because of him. All thanks to him.

You can’t help but look at him like he’s your number one fucking hero.

Little do you know how much of a true villain he is.

MHA head cannons

You’re in a relationship with Shigaraki headcannons

TW: Mention of manipulation and guilt tripping.

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•You get love bombed, he gets you gifts, showers you in compliments, then forgets about you.

•Toxic relationship, he’s a big manipulator and get’s whatever he wants.

•He might even go as far to tell you his backstory then use your sympathy for his own benefit, guilt tripping you.

•Removing anyone important in your life other than him, he’s the only one you need to talk to.

•Ignores your boundaries but loses it if you ignore his.

•Makes people in your life hate you so that if you tried to leave you always end up crawling back to him.

•Brings your hopes up just to let you back down again.

•Makes it so that you’re always in the wrong, or at least it seems like it.

•Again, a big manipulator and guilt tripper.

•Very toxic relationship, it doesn’t matter if you’re in the LOV or not.

•He doesn’t see you as his S/O, he started dating you so he could use you if he needed you and as he saw fit.

•Refuses most of your attempts to love him, but gives in just enough that you think he actually likes you.

•”Y/n, could you get me my phone?” “It’s right there-“ “No. It’s okay, you just don’t love me, that’s fine.” he then goes on to grab his phone, leave, and ignore you for the rest of the day. He does this often with almost everything.

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Gahh! Sorry, this one is short but i really wanted to write about this as i got inspiration from the song Somebody That I Used To Know, by Gotye, and Kimbra. I was listening to it and was like, this kinda reminds me of Shigaraki and so I wrote about it. I think some of these are inaccurate but they were all fun to write!

I need to start doing other characters but Shigaraki is so fun to write about, I feel like theres so many different ways he could act depending on how you perceive him. I might try to write about other characters that aren’t from MHA but I don’t think that’ll go well.

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I’m open and asking for writing suggestions!! I’m fine with anything as long as it’s NOT a fanfic or NSFW, i am strictly SFW!

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