The New Postmodern Age (chapter Two) - A Shigaraki X F!Reader Fic

yandere!incel!tomura shigaraki + foreigner!darling who can't speak japanese

TITLE: " RENT-A-GF " — navi.

NOTES: nsfw (18+ only) below the cut (non-con!! somnophilia!!) reminder: this is merely fantasy, i don't condone. will prob proofread someday lol. enjoy!

PAIRING: yandere!incel!shigaraki tomura x foreinger!reader

GENRE/AU: shigaraki is rlly misogynistic and delusional, age gap (you're older), reader is a substitute english teacher who got kidnapped by bwad gwuys and is now... yeah

CHARACTERS: shigaraki tomura (21), reader (24)

let's be for real: shigaraki was born to be an incel.

and incel!shigaraki is shamelessly self-aware of this, indeed. when he's not out terrorizing innocent citizens with his villainous coups, he takes to the internet to fulfill his insatiable need for an adrenaline rush. gorey video games and brutal death metal makes him light up in glee, but sometimes it's just not enough.

so, instead, he's a frequent on the dark web, diligently scouring sites that specialize in obscure female porn collectives that cater to his twisted kinks. incel!shigaraki glowers at the pictures of stupid, slutty women who prance around in sexy lingerie, but still gets a hard-on because he wishes he had a woman who would do that for him and him only.

and what shigaraki wants, he gets. on another sweaty night in his dark bedroom, he's boredly clicking through the hundreds of entries of women who are being sold for, what he thinks, too high of a price. not that money would ever be a problem for him; if he felt compelled to, he could just kidnap the girl he wanted all over again. so, no, it's not the price—it's what he thinks they're worth based on his attraction to them.

and, so far, all of them are worthless.

you see, the conundrum is that incel!shigaraki has a thing for foreign girls. don't ask why, he doesn't know. maybe he finds it cute that they're so clueless about his culture and language, and he's the one who'll control the narrative that rules their ignorance. maybe it's so cute how they wear their perpetual confusion on their face at all times, like a bratty kid who can't take navigate the world without mommy or daddy by their side.

of course, though, women could hardly do anything on their own anyway. every time he came across one they'd wail and cry as he grabbed them by the hair and threatened to kill them if they didn't shut the hell up. they'd beg for their lives or scream for someone to save them, but it would only piss him off more at how useless and brainless they tended to be. he just couldn't help but decay them—they were so noisy and whiny, it wasn't his fault.

obviously, shigaraki has neither patience nor experience with women. in fact, he can probably count with two fingers how many times he's had a non-violent interaction with a woman in his entire lifetime. the mere thought of this drives his insecurities to the brink of rage, but it's not his fault women are so unbelievably tasteless in their choice of men. it's their fault he has to go to such lengths to find a decent woman worthy of his presence.

but imagine his delight when he happens upon a listing of you, an immediately attractive foreign woman who used to be an english substitute teacher of all things. he clicks through your pictures with a renewed vigor, his interest piqued as he studies your unique features. eagerly, he scours through your posted information and it turns out that you happen to be exactly the kind of woman he's looking for.

it's a done deal. the transaction takes less than a few minutes and incel!shigaraki couldn't be more pleased with how smoothly it went. he'll have to leave a good review later on, when and if the woman he's just bought has satisfied him.

it takes just one night before shigaraki finds you literally dropped off at his doorstep like an amazon prime package. you’ve clearly been pampered with the way you’re clad in a skimpy maid outfit; your nails, hair, and makeup are all dolled to perfection. you look exactly like you did in the pictures.

and clearly you're wise beyond your years. you don't speak much because of the obvious language barrier, but you do seem to understand a bit of elementary japanese. shigaraki is delighted by your small mutterings of broken japanese—it’s unbelievably cute. sometimes he'll force you to speak in japanese just because he loves watching you struggle with your limited vocabulary.

incel!shigaraki gets attached to you. you're very attractive in his eyes, and he's completely ecstatic that you're all his. a woman he can do whatever he wants with, and no one would dare question him. the immense power trip sends him over the edge.

that being said, the first couple of weeks are still rather... awkward. you're not happy about being in the situation you're in, but you're smart enough to keep that to yourself. you don't fuss when shigaraki orders you to fetch him liquor or tidy up his filthy room, nor do you complain when he commands you to cuddle with him or keep him company while he plays video games.

"[name], c'mere," he'd bark at you, eyes still glued to the tv screen.

"be a good girl and keep my lap warm, hm?"

he'll force you to wear cute lingerie sets like he's seen the women on porn sites do. somehow you look so much better though, and it feels as though you're teasing him with the way you bend over so much while cleaning. the outline of your pussy through the small fabric that stretches over it has him horny in a matter of seconds. you're such a tease, aren't you ashamed? you just can't seem to stay in line.

however, despite all your obvious sexual innuendos towards him, shigaraki gets no relief. he's resorted to jacking off whenever you go to sleep but no matter how hard or how much he cums, there's an itch that can't be scratched with masturbation alone. and the way you're so shy around him is adorable, sure, but your little playing-hard-to-get act wasn't cutting it anymore.

the remedy? incel!shigaraki starts slipping sleeping pills into your food and drinks.

and it doesn't take long for shigaraki to develop a routine of visiting you while you're sleeping. partly to check up on you and assure himself of your presence, but mostly to creep around the edges of the bed and feel you up. you sleep so soundly that you don't even twitch when he fondles your soft breasts or runs his spindly fingers over your curves.

he almost doesn't want to disturb you; you look so peaceful, totally different than the frightened little faces you muster when you're awake. but the bothersome tightness stretching his boxers taut against its stitches makes it hard to resist his urges. anyway, you're simply doing the only thing a woman is good for: using your body to please him.

his breath is hot and heavy, laced with lust and selfish perversion as he defiles you to get himself off. some nights he just sits and admires your beauty, caressing your face with clumsy, inexperienced fingertips. some nights your shirt is pulled up so he can marvel at how nicely your breasts sit in whatever color bra he forced you to wear.

other nights his cock is nestled between them, thrusting like his life depends on it, chasing that euphoric high he gets when he finally spills his seed across your hardening nipples. and other nights shigaraki is even more daring—cute pajama pants and panties below your knees, face buried between your thighs as he explores every inch of your sweet cunt. he knows it's wrong, but so what? he's a villian, that's what makes it feel so right.

when you make faces in your sleep, he's filled with so much genuine affection—it's almost as if you're telling him he's doing a good job. you love it, don't you? he so desperately wants to hear you cry his name in that precious accent of yours and run your hands through his hair as you lavish your praise upon him for making you cream so many times.

he can't keep his eyes off you. so soft and compliant. you're so pretty while he's stuffing his cock into you and relentlessly flicking your little clit, not stopping even when he feels you clench around him like a vice as you orgasm over and over. not stopping even though you're drooling all over the linen sheets and he's came twice already.

"that's right... y-you gonna cum again? you gonna—ngh—cum all over my cock, you dumb whore?"

shigaraki watches with glassy, intrigued eyes as you squirm ever so slightly, face warped into one of undeniable pleasure as he ravages your gushing pussy. you're such a good girl for him, letting him use you as he wishes.

you're the woman he's chosen to give his virginity to. he's so happy and content that when he cums inside of you for the third time, he doesn't pull out. instead, shigaraki gently maneuvers your body so he can spoon you from behind, whispering tender "i love you's" as if he knows what that means. absently grinding his hips because your warmth is so comforting around his sticky, softening dick.

as much as shigaraki wants to stay and pound you into the mattress all night, the sleeping medication doesn't last forever. not to mention the mess you've made; the sheets are completely ruined and your clothes are strewn about on the floor, long forgotten. it's hot in your room and it stinks of his cum and sweat, but it doesn't really matter. the only thing on his mind is you and how he'll ruin you again tomorrow night.

for now, though, he rewards you for being so good by cleaning you up, smirking whenever you unconsciously nuzzle up to his touch. when your clothes are back on, he plants a tender kiss on your forehead and admires your flushed face from the shadows of your bedside. when the sun begins to rise and you stir in your ignorance, he'll sneak out and act as if nothing ever happened.

incel!shigaraki who doesn't deny that you're just another stupid slutty woman, but you're the only woman he'll ever want to cum inside of. when he returns to his room, he remembers to pull up your archived listing on his computer and dazedly taps away at his keyboard.

"10/10 recommend"

What if we could lay an egg with narinder ?

Please if any developper see this, let us repopulate the lambs ! (And f*ck with narinder 👉👈)

Haunting for Beginners - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Ghosts summoned and bound to the human world have one purpose - haunting - but Tomura's never met a human he could stand long enough to haunt them, and he's pretty sure he never will. When you cross the threshold of his house, you capture his interest, and for the first time, he finds himself with a chance to do what ghosts are meant to do. It's too bad he doesn't know how. Scenes from Love Like Ghosts, through the eyes of the ghost in question. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapter 1

Time means nothing to him. Less than nothing, when nothing changes. When he thinks about it – and he tries not to think very much at all – he knows that the world is in motion outside the walls, past the property line. The weather changes. Night turns to day and back again. Houses are built, occupied, emptied again. Humans live. Humans die. None of it matters to Tomura. All that matters to Tomura is what happens inside his house.

Tomura knows what a house is, what it’s for. A house is somewhere humans live, somewhere humans live and die and do whatever else they do in between. Tomura’s house is supposed to have humans in it, so he can haunt them, but he’s not clear on what haunting is in the first place. What is he supposed to do with humans once he has them? And even if he knew, there’s another problem. Humans come in and out of Tomura’s house often enough, some just to see, some planning to stay. And Tomura hates all of them.

They’re loud. They run. They jam up Tomura’s house with the stupid things they own and they bring even more people in with them and they change things, things they have no right to change or even touch. Tomura might not know how to haunt things, but he knows how to make his wishes known. He knows how to make people leave when he doesn’t want them here. After all this time – some long piece of time, but it doesn’t mean anything – he’s gotten really good at it.

Sometimes Tomura makes a game of it. Some times he doesn’t try as hard as others. If the humans make him angry, he tries harder, but if they don’t do anything specifically that he hates, he just watches them until they leave on their own. That’s how Tomura spends his endless stretches of time, as the world changes outside the property line and the other houses in the neighborhood empty and fill, empty and fill, over and over and over again –

– until one day the front gate creaks open, and you step through.

Tomura knows all about humans. He knows by looking at you that you’re young, but not a kid. Just barely old enough to be here by yourself, younger than anybody else who’s come to look at this place alone. Are you alone? Tomura waits, but the only person who follows you through the gate is the idiot who brings people to Tomura’s house to try to make them buy it. So you are by yourself. That’s – new.

Maybe that’s why Tomura’s paying attention. Because it’s new. He comes closer, shadowing you and the idiot as you walk through the empty lower floor of the house. The idiot is saying all the same things it usually says, about how old the house is and how it’s untouched except for the addition of central heating and cooling. Tomura almost stopped that from happening. Then he decided that he should be the one who gets to choose when a human leaves, not the temperature and whether or not it’s comfortable. So his house has central heating and cooling. Whatever that is.

You seem to care about that a little bit. It makes you nod, but beyond that, you aren’t reacting much. Humans usually react more to the house. They have opinions. Ideas about where they’re going to put things. Plans for what they’re going to change when they move in. What they’re going to ruin, more accurately. Or sometimes they’re comparing Tomura’s house to whatever other houses they’ve visited. So go buy those houses, Tomura always thinks. This is mine.

You haven’t mentioned any other houses. You aren’t saying anything at all, and Tomura can tell the idiot is uncomfortable. Good. Then the idiot opens its mouth and uses one of the words Tomura hates the most. “It’s a bit of a fixer-upper, which is obviously reflected in the price.”

“Is that what the price is reflecting?”

“What else would it be reflecting?” the idiot asks. It’s caught off-guard. Tomura is, too. He knows all the questions humans ask, and he’s never heard anybody ask that. “Like I was saying, if you’re interested in flipping this place, there’s a lot to remodel –”

Remodel. There’s another word Tomura hates. “I thought the price reflected the fact that no one who’s owned this place has owned it for long,” you say. “Do you know why?”

“People have their reasons.” The idiot is eager to get off the subject, but Tomura knows you’ve caught on. There’s a look on your face, like you’re figuring something out. “Let me walk you through the upstairs, and then we’ll take a look at the yard! Are you much of a gardener?”

“I’ve never had the space,” you say. But you like the idea. Tomura can tell.

Tomura cares what people do to the house. What happens to the backyard isn’t his concern. If you came to live here, you could do whatever you wanted to the yard if you left the house alone. You don’t ask a lot of questions. You don’t make a lot of pointless noise. You don’t talk about how much you want to change everything about Tomura’s house, and you haven’t come in dragging more humans after you. Do you have other humans? The idiot asks, and Tomura listens a little too avidly to the answer. “No,” you say. “It’s just me.”

That’s a good answer. There’s no such thing as a good answer from people who want to buy Tomura’s house, but it’s close enough that Tomura doesn’t hate you already.

Usually humans give the idiot a yes or a no before they leave. Even if they don’t, Tomura knows whether they’ll be back or not. But he’s not sure about you. You didn’t say very much, or react very much. Humans are nothing but reaction after reaction, and they’re usually easy to spot, but Tomura wouldn’t have realized that you liked the idea of a garden unless he’d been paying close attention. He’s not used to paying close attention to things. It makes him feel strange.

You only ask the idiot one more question before you leave, and you ask it on the sidewalk, past the property line. “Are there any other offers on this place?”

“No.”

“Good,” you say, and Tomura drifts out of the house for the first time in a long time, coming right up to the fence to get a look at your face. He thinks you like that answer. He’s not sure. “I’ll be in touch.”

And then you leave, with both Tomura and the idiot staring after you as you start your car and drive away. Tomura is staring, just like the idiot is. He retreats back to his house in a hurry, fast enough to stir a breeze that makes the idiot shiver, and sweeps upstairs into his favorite spot. Humans always put their beds here when they move in. Tomura wonders where you would put your bed if you lived here. He wonders if you’ll come back.

You won’t, probably. Most humans never come back, and if they do, Tomura never lets them stay. Tomura settles into his corner of the room, as incorporeal as it’s possible to be, the same way he spends most of his time. Space means everything to Tomura – his spot, his room, his house, his property. His neighborhood, because the other ghosts who live here all know who this place really belongs to, even though he’ll never cross the lines that separate his from theirs. Space matters. Time, not so much. Time is meaningless when he has so much of it, when nothing changes from one moment or minute, hour or day, week or decade or century to the next.

Except something has changed, a little. Even as Tomura tries to sink back into apathy, to let his awareness fade, he finds that he’s watching time, keeping an eye on the change from day to night. Counting the days that pass from the moment you stepped through the gate, wondering how many it will take to prove to himself that you aren’t coming back.

“Papa, the sign’s different!” The neighborhood’s youngest used-to-be-a-ghost stops in front of Tomura’s house, peering into the yard. “It says – p. P-something.”

“Pending,” the oldest used-to-be-a-ghost says. He’s stuck in a mortal form forever now, but his spirit’s older than Tomura’s, and even when Tomura’s shielding his aura, he knows the old ghost can read more from his aura than the rest. “Good spot, Eri. Looks like somebody’s thinking about buying this place.”

Is that what ‘pending’ means? Tomura waits until the other two have gone, then goes to investigate the sign. For sale, the sign usually says, but right now it says Sale pending. Someone wants to buy it. Someone is buying it, and the idiot’s only brought one person to see it in a long time. It’s been seventeen days since you came to see Tomura’s house. Is it you?

When he thinks about you buying the house, moving into the house, Tomura – he doesn’t know how to describe what he’s feeling, except that it makes his essence itch. He’s never felt like that before. He hates it. He doesn’t know how to make it go away. Maybe it’ll go away if you come back.

And you do come back, twenty-two days after the first time you crossed the property line. This time there are other humans with you, not just the idiot – humans in uniforms, carrying equipment. Inspection. That’s farther than most humans who want Tomura’s house get. You’re there, supposedly supervising, but instead you’re on the phone with somebody, at the same time as you’re reading through a packet of papers. Tomura doesn’t like that. You’re in his house. You shouldn’t be paying attention to anything else.

He wraps a strand of his essence around your phone, cutting off the signal, and you lower it from your ear, surprised. You try the call again, and Tomura tightens his grip. He wonders if you’ll get mad. Humans get mad about things like that. But instead of getting angry, you tuck your phone into your pocket and go back to your papers. Tomura reads them over your shoulder and feels some of his anger dissipate. You’re reading about his house, about all the people who owned his house before you came to see it. If you’re reading about the house, it’s fine. It’s better that you pay attention to what you’re reading than the other people who are here. When you leave again, Tomura goes back to counting the days.

There are more inspections than usual. Two different inspectors come to look for leaking poisonous gas, and another one comes looking for black mold, and then a fourth one comes through checking everything else, and you still don’t come back. The rest of the neighborhood has noticed what’s going on, and they’re talking about it. About you. Tomura listens to every word, the itching in his spirit worsening by the hour.

“All those inspections – she’s got cold feet. No way is she buying it.”

“Those inspections cost money. She wouldn’t have them done if she wasn’t serious about it.”

“This place is expensive,” the human who belongs to the youngest ghost says. “She can’t afford it.”

“I afforded it,” the human who belongs to the scar wraith says as he walks past with a pile of mail. “With rent like it is in the city, a mortgage is cheaper.”

Tomura doesn’t know what a mortgage is. He doesn’t know why he’s listening to the other so much, either. He barely pays attention to them, just enough to know when one house empties and fills again, when one of them dies, when a new one’s born. Or embodied. There haven’t been baby humans in the neighborhood in – ever. Humans have bought Tomura’s house before. That’s not new. But Tomura’s never thought about it as much as he’s thinking about it now.

After the inspections end, Tomura’s house is empty for eight more days. Then you come back with the idiot again, walking through the house like you did the first time. Halfway through, you send the idiot outside. And for the first time ever, it’s just you and Tomura inside Tomura’s house.

Tomura’s itching gets a thousand times worse in an instant, setting every scrap of his essence buzzing. It should be awful, but it’s – not. His spirit hums as he shadows you through the house from room to room, stopping when you stop, looking at what you’re looking at. Sometimes Tomura casts his essence wide, letting it expand to fill every inch of the house, but now he draws it inwards, fitting into the space next to you where the idiot would have stood if you hadn’t thrown it out. You threw the idiot out. Tomura knew he liked you.

There’s a thought he’s never had before. You keep walking, but Tomura stops following you, coming to a halt on the stairs as he tries to piece things together. Tomura knows what he dislikes. He knows what he can tolerate. He knows what he can ignore and what he doesn’t want to. Tomura knows what he needs to know about how he feels. He tolerates and ignores and gets irritated and bored and angry and angry and angry, so angry that he has to scatter his essence to the edge of the property line to avoid destroying his house. But he’s never liked something before.

Is that what this itching is? Liking something? Tomura doesn’t think so. The itching is something else. Liking is calmer. Liking isn’t uncomfortable. Tomura goes looking for you again and finds you sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace, lost in thought. No phone. No papers. You look calm and comfortable. Tomura studies you and matches your expression to what he’s experiencing. He likes this. You like it, too.

When you get to your feet and head for the door, Tomura’s itching returns. The uncomfortable kind of itching. You’re leaving. He doesn’t like that, and the look on the idiot’s face as you approach it makes the itching even worse. For the first time, Tomura doesn’t listen in on a conversation you’re having. He disappears back to the house, draws as close to the edge of the world-that-is and the world between as he can, hoping it’ll drown everything else out. It drowns out the sound of your voice, but not the sound of a car starting and pulling away. Who just left? Was it you? The itching explodes into something unbearable, and Tomura races back to the front yard. You’re gone. The idiot’s still there. It’s fiddling with the sign.

For sale, it used to say. Next, Sale pending. The idiot attaches something else to it and backs away, its lips curving upwards. It’s happy. Tomura cuts as close to the fence as possible and gets a look at the sign that’s stood just inside the property line more often than not for as long as he’s been here. For sale, it used to say. Now it says Sold.

Tomura likes that. He likes that a lot.

When you move in, you don’t bring much with you. Tomura investigates everything you add to his house and realizes that most of it is old. Not the kind of old people pay money for. Just old enough to have seen better days. No other humans come to help you move. It’s just you, dragging things from a car into the house all day long. Some of it is heavy. You look tired. Most humans have other humans moving in with them, and most humans hire more humans to help them move. Tomura wonders why you don’t.

You don’t have any humans, but when you come back for good, you bring something with you. You get out of your car – which is old, like everything else you have, including Tomura’s house – and walk around to open the passenger-side door. A dog jumps out.

Tomura knows about dogs. He knows humans have them sometimes. But no one with a dog has ever moved into his house. Why didn’t you bring it before? The dog wanders around the yard, sniffing everything, putting things in its mouth and spitting them back out, until it scurries onto the porch and rolls on its back with its feet in the air and its tail wagging. It looks stupid. Tomura wonders if it knows how stupid it looks.

But you must not agree, because you’re smiling as you climb the steps to join it. When you crouch down to rub the dog’s belly, your hand vanishes partway into its thick fur. The fur looks – Tomura has to think hard to come up with a word for it. He knows what texture looks like, even if he’s never touched anything before. It looks – soft.

The dog’s fur is soft, and it looks happy. You look happy, too. You’re talking to the dog in a silly voice, asking it questions it can’t answer, since dogs can’t talk. Humans do things like that all the time, things that don’t make sense, and those things irritate Tomura. Usually. He doesn’t feel irritated right now. He feels something else. Not the itchy feeling that happens sometimes when he thinks about you, the one he doesn’t have a word for. It’s more like the feeling of liking something. Like that, but warmer, somehow. When he watches you and your dog together, he feels – nice.

Still, Tomura was expecting it to be just the two of you in his house. He’s not sure how he feels now that he knows about the dog. So Tomura does what he always does when there’s someone new in the house and they haven’t upset him yet: He watches.

He watches while you and the dog settle in for your first night in his house. You do some unpacking while the dog keeps you company. You let it out in the yard five or six times. You feed the dog and cook for yourself and feed the dog again by throwing little pieces of food to it while you’re making whatever you’re making. You talk to the dog, even though it can’t talk back. It likes the way your voice sounds. Tomura can tell. He still can’t tell how he feels about the dog.

He waits until you’ve gone to bed before he goes to inspect it more closely. It’s downstairs, sleeping in a crate full of pillows and stuffed toys. The crate’s door is open. It could get in and out any time it wants, but it seems to like it in there. Tomura peers at it through the bars on the crate, through the open door, trying to decide what to do about it. After a few minutes in which he comes up with nothing, the dog lifts its head off its pillow and looks at him.

Not at him. It can’t see him. Can it? Tomura shifts to one side, and the dog’s eyes follow him. Its ears are pricked. Tomura shifts to the other side, and once again, the dog tracks his position easily. It can see him. Tomura feels a surge of disquiet at the thought. What if it decides it doesn’t like him? What if it tells you about him, and you decide to leave? Tomura doesn’t want that to happen. He’s surprised by just how much he doesn’t want it.

The dog is still looking at him, eyes bright and alert. It’s wiggling strangely. Tomura studies it from a different angle and sees that its tail is wagging hard enough to shake its entire body. Its tail was wagging when you were petting it, too. It was happy then, because it likes you. Does it like Tomura too?

The question makes Tomura itch. He leaves the dog in its crate and drifts upstairs, heading for your room. The click of nails on the wood floors tells him that the dog is following him, trotting along with its ears up and its tail still wagging. The door to your room is slightly ajar. Tomura drifts through it, stopping just past the threshold, and the dog follows him, not stopping until it’s reached the edge of the bed, hopped up, and curled up at your side.

Tomura’s itching isn’t going away. It’s getting worse. He checks to see if leaving the room will make it better, but leaving makes it worse, too. He drifts forward instead, closer to the bed, then above it, peering down at you from the ceiling. Your bed is too big for you, he decides. Even with you asleep in the middle of it and the dog next to you, there’s still room on either side, enough for – what? Tomura doesn’t know for what, except that the question makes him itch worse than any thought he’s ever had.

The dog is looking up at Tomura. It’s wagging its tail again, and its tail is thumping against your face. You stir slightly, extend one hand from the blanket to rest on the dog’s flank. “Shh,” you mumble, giving it a few gentle pats. “I know. I like it here, too.”

You like it here. Tomura knew that. You wouldn’t have bought it if you didn’t like it. But hearing you say it is something else. The people who’ve bought Tomura’s house before have had plenty to say about it – about what needs to be fixed or upgraded or removed or changed, all the things about it that need to be different in order for it to be good enough for them. Nobody’s ever moved in and said they liked it just how it was. Except you.

He likes hearing you say that. Tomura retreats to the lower floor, so the dog won’t keep looking at him and hitting you in the face with its tail, then sneaks back up to peer through the open door once you’re both asleep. The dog is snoring, and underneath the snoring, Tomura hears your deep, even breathing, split up here and there with small, contented sounds. Tomura hates it when there’s noise in his house. But this is the kind of noise he could get used to.

Time used to mean nothing to Tomura. Now time means a lot of things. You’re home less than he thought you’d be – less than he’d like you to be, although that thought falls squarely in the category of things that make him itch. You’re gone most of the day, five days in a row, then home most of the day for two days in a row, and then the cycle repeats. The dog is here all the time, unless you’re taking it out for walks or letting it outside to run in the yard. When you’re here, Tomura watches you. When you aren’t, he watches the dog.

The dog watches him, too. No matter where Tomura is inside the house, the dog finds him, and it brings things to him. Usually its toys. Sometimes stuff Tomura knows it’s not supposed to have, like things out of your laundry basket. It sets them down in front of him and sits, tail wagging, an expectant look on its furry face. Tomura knows from watching you what he’s supposed to do with the toys. Throw them, so the dog can bring them back, or hold onto one end so the dog can bite down on the other end and yank and shake until it gets bored. Tomura ignores the dog at first, but ignoring it starts to feel weird. Bad. If he could help, he would. Really. He just doesn’t know how.

One day you’re in a bad mood when you leave. Tomura doesn’t know all the reasons why. Your mood seems bigger than the thing you got upset about, which was a big spider crawling across the bathroom mirror while you were brushing your teeth. It’s not the first spider, either. There have been at least eight, and Tomura knows where they’re coming from – a nest in the insulation between the walls, full of dozens more. The spiders are going to keep coming out. You don’t like spiders. If you don’t like spiders and Tomura’s house is full of them, you’re going to leave.

Tomura doesn’t want that. He encircles the nest with a few strands of essence and studies it for an hour, then two, then more. There’s something he should be doing here, some instinct pulling at him until he wraps the strands of essence tighter. Tighter, and tighter again, tightening his grip until the spiders in the nest begin to grow sluggish, then still. They’re turning cold. And somewhere in the smallest corners of his essence, Tomura feels warmth.

Living things are warm. Tomura pulls away from the dry, crumbling nest of dead spiders and back into the bathroom, where the dog is waiting for him with its ball. Tomura reaches for the ball, meaning to wrap it in essence and see what happens, but what happens is something else. His essence takes shape, takes visibility, takes weight and mass, until Tomura finds himself holding the ball in a pair of hands. His hands.

The ball has a dozen properties – prickly, fuzzy, rigid but not, damp but not wet, heavy in his hands but not nearly as heavy as the hands themselves. If Tomura had known he was going to touch something for the first time today, he would have picked something else. He shifts the ball to one hand, freeing up the other, and reaches out to the dog, which is bouncing up on its back feet with excitement. Tomura’s planning to pet the dog’s ears – that’s what you always do – but the dog shifts its head to one side and licks Tomura’s fingers instead. Wet. Slimy. Tomura wouldn’t have picked that for the first thing he touched, either.

He swaps the ball to the hand the dog licked, wipes the other on the carpet, and wonders if he can make more than two hands. He tries it, but two hands are all humans get. Two hands are all he gets. While the dog is sniffing the ball and trying to lick it out of Tomura’s hand, he uses the other hand to pet its ears.

They’re soft, just like he thought they’d be. Soft and warm. The dog’s tail thumps against the floor. It stops licking Tomura’s other hand in favor of nudging it, trying to trick him into throwing the ball. Tomura throws it hard enough to strike against the floor, bounce off the ceiling, and fly out the door into the hallway.

The dog lets out a joyful yelp and chases after it. Tomura stares down at his hands – his hands – and wonders how long he’ll have them for. How he’ll get them back. What else he can do with them.

He practices making hands. You don’t like when there are bugs in the house, so he gets rid of them, and with the energy he strips from their bodies, he makes himself hands. Hands are useful for a lot of things. He and the dog can play now. Never for as long as it wants – Tomura always runs out of life before the dog is tired of playing tug or fetch or rolling over on its belly with its feet in the air – but they can play now. Tomura knows the dog can’t talk, but if it could talk to you about him, he thinks it would have nice things to say.

You have nice things to say, too – about Tomura’s house, to everybody you talk to. But you don’t talk to as many people as the people who bought the house before you did, and you don’t invite as many people over. You don’t invite anybody over. You like your space, just like Tomura likes his space, and he’s already used to your presence and the dog’s in the house. Time matters to him now, so he knows it’s been twenty-three days since you and the dog moved into his house. Nobody else has stayed as long at a stretch. Since you moved in, you’ve slept nowhere else.

And you haven’t brought anybody else in. You don’t like the idea of bringing anybody else in. Tomura can tell by your expression when someone you’re talking to on your phone suggests it. He hasn’t really questioned if he was right to let you stay, but the more he observes you, the more convinced he is that it was a good decision. Tomura’s house has a human in it now. He can finally do what ghosts are supposed to do and haunt it.

But Tomura’s still not sure about the whole haunting thing. You’ve watched a few scary movies, and he’s watched them, too, so he knows that haunted houses are supposed to be terrifying. The humans in them should want to leave, and the ghost should make it as hard for them as possible, and maybe kill them, too. Tomura doesn’t want to kill you. And he doesn’t want you to leave. There has to be a way to haunt you that doesn’t end with you moving out.

He's turning the question over in his head as you and the dog play in the backyard in the early evening, so focused on it that he barely notices the coyote that slips through the fence. That hole in the fence has been there forever. Coyotes come in and out all the time. But there’s never been somebody in the yard when they’ve come in before. It takes Tomura a split second to realize there’s a problem, and that split second is too long. Long enough for the coyote to lunge at the dog and bite down hard one of the dog’s back legs.

The dog lets out a horrible sound, shrill and rattling, and you scream, too. The sounds shatter inside Tomura’s essence, and he hates them – but not the same way he hates everything else. You throw your phone at the coyote, hitting it in the head, and it lets go of the dog, who scrambles back to you. You crouch down to cradle it, stroking its fur and mumbling to it as the coyote comes closer. You’re trying to comfort it. You should be running.

Why aren’t you running? Tomura feels a surge of frustration, mixed in with something sharper, something that pulls his essence into a knot and yanks it tighter. But then he looks at the distance to the back door, which is closed. Then he thinks about how you’d have to carry the dog, which would make it harder to open the door fast. How your back would be to the coyote the whole time, and how it’s probably faster than you are. You stand a better chance if you don’t have your back to it when it attacks you, and that’s why you’re getting to your feet, pushing the dog behind you, facing the coyote and staring it down.

You’re scared. Tomura knows what scared looks like on humans, but that’s not all you are. Your hands are clenched into fists, which means you’re angry, too. Angry that something’s come to the house and hurt your dog. Angry like Tomura is, a new kind of anger, not purposeless but directed towards a single target. This is his house. His house, his yard, his dog, his human. Nothing gets to touch them. Tomura surges forward.

There aren’t insects around, but there’s the grass, and he steals life-force from it, manifesting hands that seize the coyote just as it leaps towards you. It’s the biggest thing he’s ever tried to grasp. It thrashes and snarls, thrumming with life. Tomura could drain it. It’s what his instincts are telling him to do. But it deserves worse than that. It deserves to be scared, just like Tomura’s dog and his human are. Tomura tightens his grip around its throat and wrenches with a fraction of his strength. Even a fraction of his strength is enough to nearly rip its head from its shoulders.

Tomura doesn’t mean to drop the corpse, but he didn’t draw enough life-force from the grass to hold onto his hands for long. The coyote’s body thuds to the ground, and Tomura turns his attention to you and the dog, where it belongs. The two of you have retreated back to the porch, you sprawled back against the back door with the dog in your lap. Your eyes are wide. You look scared.

Tomura feels a twinge of discomfort. He’s never shown himself to a human in the house before, not even a little bit, and right now you look like the people in movies look when something’s haunted them. The people in those movies want to leave their houses when they realize they’re haunted. The first human Tomura’s ever wanted to stay in the house is about to become the next human who leaves.

Then you close your eyes, take a deep breath, open them again. “I don’t know who did that,” you say. You’re looking out at a yard that must look empty to you, but the bulk of Tomura’s essence is in your eyeline, enough that he can convince himself you’re looking at him. “But thank you.”

You get awkwardly to your feet and carry the dog inside, only to come back out a few seconds later to pick up your phone, giving the dead body of the coyote a wide berth. You place a call before the door’s even shut. Tomura can hear you on the phone with the emergency vet, whatever that is, but he can barely focus beyond the strange things that are happening within his essence.

Some part of him is angry, like always, but there are new dimensions to his anger – he’s mad at the coyote for getting in, mad at himself for not doing something about it before the dog got hurt and you got scared. Part of him is relieved that you aren’t packing your things and calling a hotel. And part of him is – is –

Tomura doesn’t know what to call most of the feeling, but it brings the itching along with it, and he knows what to call the itching now. It’s wanting. The itching that makes him feel like crawling out of his essence or curling up so tight inside it that he can’t be found is what it feels like to want something, and unlike the other times he’s felt it since you arrived, Tomura knows what he wants.

The world’s held so little interest to him for so long. He’s been here some piece of time that feels like forever, and he’s lost count of the number of times he wishes he’d been destroyed rather than give up the fight to remain in the world between. He belongs in the world between. Not here.

But now there’s something in this world that the world between could never give to Tomura. You looked at Tomura. You talked to him. All Tomura wants in this world or the next is for you to talk to him again.

Yay team pokemon fire✨✨✨ma fav is Blaziken idk how to say his started in english

Love Like Ghosts (Chapter 15) -- a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

You knew the empty house in a quiet neighborhood was too good to be true, but you were so desperate to get out of your tiny apartment that you didn't care, and now you find yourself sharing space with something inhuman and immensely powerful. As you struggle to coexist with a ghost whose intentions you're unsure of, you find yourself drawn unwillingly into the upside-down world of spirits and conjurers, and becoming part of a neighborhood whose existence depends on your house staying exactly as it is, forever.

But ghosts can change, just like people can. And as your feelings and your ghost's become more complex and intertwined, everything else begins to crumble. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14

Chapter 15

There’s something wrong with your house, but you knew that when you bought it. Right now the thing that’s wrong with your house isn’t the ghost who haunts it, but the fact that said ghost is on day five of an extended sulk. With every day closer to your departure, Tomura’s gotten mopier, and no matter how many times you explain to him that you’ll only be gone for two days, it doesn’t seem to stick.

It’s Friday morning, and you’re leaving directly after work, which means you have to say goodbye to Tomura this morning. He’s not making it easy. “Someone else can go. Aizawa can go,” he complains. “I don’t see why you have to.”

“I’m the one who started looking into this. And Aizawa has kids to look after.” You finish packing your bag and zip it up. “Are you sure you’re okay to watch Phantom? Spinner said he would –”

“I know to feed her and play with her and let her out. I’m way better at taking care of our dog than Spinner.” Tomura is scowling worse than before, and you feel slightly guilty. You like hearing Tomura say that Phantom is both of yours, but that’s not a good enough reason to wind him up. “Why do you have to stay away that long?”

“It’s going to take me six hours to get there. I won’t be there until midnight tonight. I’ll take all of Saturday and some of the next day going over the documents, and I’ll be back late on Sunday.” You pick up your bag and start down the stairs. “I don’t like being away, either. I like it here.”

“Then don’t leave.”

“I have to.” You set your bag down by the front door, then crouch down to say goodbye to Phantom. You haven’t left her alone for this long in a while, and you’re going to miss her. If it wasn’t for Tomura, there’s no way you’d take this trip.

Tomura didn’t follow you down the stairs, and you hear his voice echo through a house that already feels a little too empty. “I won’t have anybody to talk to.”

You thought about that, too. You thought about it and decided that not talking to Tomura for two days wasn’t something you were prepared to tolerate. “Can you come down here? I’ve got something for you.”

Tomura’s footsteps are slow, almost reluctant, as he makes his way down the stairs. “What is it?” he asks. You don’t answer – you’re too busy searching through your hall closet for a bag you stashed there months ago. “If you want me to kiss you before you leave, just say that. Don’t act weird and –”

He stops talking when he sees the bag you’re holding out. “It’s a present,” you say. “Sort of. Open it.”

Tomura’s not very good at opening presents. He shreds the bag, followed by the box, and a charger cable and a pair of headphones fall out and clatter to the floor. He avoids dropping the main event, if nothing else – the smartphone remains in the palm of his hand, and he stares at it suspiciously. “This is for me?”

“We can set it up really quick right now.” If you were smart, you’d have done this last night, but last night you were busy – not with sex, which would have at least been fun, but with trying to snap Tomura out of his over-the-top bad mood. You beckon him closer and he hovers over your shoulder as you start the process. “See, this is your profile. What do you want to set your name as?”

“My name.” Tomura watches as you set it. “Now what?”

You adjust his phone so it’ll always be on battery saver, hook it up to the WiFi so he won’t burn through all your data, and mute all his alert sounds. “Now we’re going to get you some contacts. People you can call or text if you need to.”

You probably spent a lot more time than necessary thinking about whose numbers you should give to Tomura. You ruled out Dabi’s and Hizashi’s instantly – the last thing you want to do is give Tomura the ability to start fights with either of them whenever he wants. Giving Tomura Keigo’s number is risky, but you’re pretty sure Dabi doesn’t know Keigo’s passcode. Tomura gets Aizawa’s number, and Spinner’s, and Jin and Jin’s mom. Jin’s mom, after pleading from Himiko and significant hesitation, agreed to let you add Himiko’s number to Tomura’s phone. You add the other ghosts, too, even though Tomura doesn’t really need a phone to talk to any of them. Last of all, you add Mr. Yagi.

Tomura doesn’t like that. “I don’t want him on my phone. Get rid of him.”

“You don’t ever have to call him,” you say. “It’s just in case.”

“In case what?”

You don’t really know. Tomura makes an irritated noise. “I want Izuku’s number.”

“You can’t have Izuku’s number. Even I don’t have it.” You wouldn’t want it, honestly. Giving Izuku unlimited opportunities to text you or Tomura feels like a stunningly bad idea. “Okay, that’s everybody. Only text them if it’s important, not to start fights. I don’t want to have to fix the fence again.”

“I know,” Tomura says, annoyed. He studies his phone, then looks up at you. “Where are you? Are you in here?”

“I’ve been texting you all the contacts.” You tap your number. “This one is me. You can name me something if you want.”

You show him how to edit the contact, then watch with a little too much interest as he selects a name. He hesitates for a long time, then looks at you. “What am I in your phone?”

“Um –” You added him as a contact already. You hold out the phone for him to examine, and he studies it like he’s reading a textbook. “It’s just your name. Tomura. See? I thought about adding the ghost emoji, but that would have been silly. I can add it if you want.”

Tomura shakes his head, then sets your phone aside and types your name into his as your contact. Which is fine. Except then he adds a display name – My Human. “Hey,” you complain. “Don’t do that. I used your name.”

He smirks. Part of you wants to change his display name to something like “my asshole ghost” to return fire, but before you can say anything, Keigo honks his car horn and hollers from outside. “Hey, if we’re going, we need to go now!”

“We’re going!” you shout back. You pick up your bag and your work backpack and race out to his car. You’re about to get in when you realize you haven’t said goodbye to Tomura yet. And that you’re missing your phone. “Shit –”

“I have your stupid phone.” Tomura’s on the other side of the fence. You reach for it, but he holds it just out of range. “I want a kiss first.”

“I was going to kiss you anyway,” you say. You lean across the property line, grasp his shoulder to pull him closer, and kiss him goodbye. You don’t stop until Keigo honks the horn again.

You’ve been in relationships before, but none of your exes ever insisted on a goodbye kiss when you had to leave for more than a day, let alone a goodbye kiss in full view of the entire neighborhood. You’re a little giddy on the drive to work, and Keigo, to his credit, doesn’t rib you too much about it. “He knows you’re not going off to war, right?”

“He knows.” You slouch down in the passenger seat. “He’s been moping all week. Did Touya do that?”

“When I was gone for too long, Touya broke out of the house,” Keigo says. Your jaw drops. “He and a bunch of other ghosts haunted this old-style family compound, and each of them was confined to a specific area. He broke out of his and into somebody else’s. You can guess how that went. So that ghost broke out of their assigned haunt, and then –”

You remember what Keigo said about ghost fights. “How many ghosts were there, total?”

“Six.” Keigo winces. “I moved pretty fast after that.”

Dabi sounds like he was a lot to deal with even back when he was Touya. A terrible thought occurs to you. “You don’t think Tomura would –”

“You told him where you were going,” Keigo points out. “And you got him a phone so he can talk to you. When it was me I just dipped for a day or two. I had no idea Touya was going to take it like that.”

“So that was kind of early on for you guys?”

“I guess.” Keigo sighs. You’re at a stoplight, and he hits his head lightly against the steering wheel. “Anyway, that one was on me. If he’d been a normal roommate I would have told him where I was going. So I think you’re probably fine. But we’ll let you know if anything weird starts happening.”

You’re hoping it won’t. You change the subject. “Thanks for giving me a ride. Parking in the station lot for two days was going to be expensive.”

“No problem. I was headed this way anyway,” Keigo says. “It’s better that you’re taking the train than driving. Less expensive.”

“It’s harder to track, too,” you say. “I don’t think anybody’s watching, but – still. Better safe than sorry.”

“Definitely,” Keigo agrees. He merges onto the highway and floors it to a speed he swears the cops don’t pull people over for. “Nobody wants a repeat of last time.”

You’re hoping to avoid it. That’s what this trip is about. When you shared the idea with Mr. Yagi and Aizawa, they both approved, although they both suggested that they should go instead of you. You held your ground. Even fifteen years after his embodiment, Mr. Yagi has a reputation among ghosts, and Aizawa’s carrying around Hizashi’s marks with no conjurer-forged bracelets to conceal them. Besides, you’re the one who found the asylum, who found Shigaraki Yoichi. Since there’s basically nothing else you can do to help, you want to see this through.

But that doesn’t mean you’re looking forward to the trip. In fact, your dread of it increases throughout the day, until you’re dragging your feet along with your suitcase as you walk to the train. Some part of you knows the dread is irrational, but it’s hard to shake, and it’s got nothing at all to do with conjurers, asylums, or ghosts. The city nearest to the asylum is the one your parents moved to, after you went to college and they sold the house you grew up in. And you and your parents have an agreement to check in whenever you’re in the same city as they are. When you texted them to tell them you’d be there for the weekend, they told you to cancel your hotel reservation and invited you to stay with them.

It’s been over two years since you last saw them. Last time it was awkward, and it was awkward the time before that, too. Your parents’ ambitions for you included a college degree and financial independence, and once you hit those milestones, it was clear at least to you that they have no idea what to make of you. But turning down their offer of a place to stay would have made things worse, and besides, hotel rooms are expensive. Saving money is worth an awkward weekend at your parents’ new home. You’ve never been there before.

You doze on and off on the train, waking up at every stop and checking your phone. Tomura hasn’t texted you, but then again, why would he? He existed in the house alone long before you were even born. Maybe he’s figuring out that he likes the peace and quiet, too.

The thought doesn’t sit well with you, and you’re crabby for the rest of the ride, although you do your best to shake it off once you arrive. The meeting with your parents will be difficult enough without you being irritated at the ghost in your house at the same time. It’s just past eleven-thirty as you make the short walk to your parents’ house from the station, your stomach growling the entire way. You’ll have to order in from somewhere once you’re settled for the night.

Their house is in a small new development, multiple homes clustered around a large central courtyard. You step through the gate and make your way across it to your parents’ front door. You check your phone one last time, ordering yourself not to be disappointed when you see that Tomura hasn’t reached out. Then you raise one hand and press the doorbell.

The door swings open almost immediately, and your father smiles at you in a way that gives you pause. He reaches out and lifts your suitcase out of your hand, then pulls you into the house and into a hug shortly afterward. For lack of anything better to do, you hug him back.

He’s smaller than you remember. More frail, and there’s more grey in his hair. How old are your parents now? Pushing seventy – they had you late, and you’ve always had the impression that you were sort of an accident. “It’s been too long,” your father says to you. He waits while you take off your shoes, then beckons you further down the hall. “Come along. We held back dinner so we could eat together.”

That doesn’t sound right. You rarely ate with both parents at once when you were a kid; family mealtimes were no one’s priority, and you ate with whichever parent was in the house at dinnertime, or you ate alone. “Why?”

Your father gives you an odd look. “It’s been too long,” he says again, as if the distance is all your fault, as if they couldn’t have reached out just as easily. “And it seems you’ll be very busy this weekend. This might be the only time we can catch up.”

“I have a lot to do,” you admit. Your father sets your suitcase down just inside the door of a room and continues down the hall. You can smell food cooking. “Thank you for waiting for me.”

Your mother is busy in the kitchen, but when you go to help her, she waves you off, under instructions to wash your hands and get settled. “I’m making your favorite,” she tells you, and smiles. But then you see the smile waver. “Is it still your favorite?”

“I make it all the time,” you say. “It never tastes quite like yours.”

Tomura’s observed you working on the recipe more than once, and he always makes fun of you for changing it each time. No matter what you change, you can’t make it taste right, but maybe – “If you won’t let me help, can I stay and watch?”

“Of course,” your mother says. “It’s been too long.”

You wish they’d both stop saying that. If they wanted you to talk to them more now, they should have talked to you when you were a kid. Hizashi’s words pop into your head, like they do every so often: Mommy and Daddy didn’t love you enough. Maybe they didn’t. Or maybe they just didn’t know what to do with a kid once they had one.

Your phone makes the sad chiming sound that tells you it’s running low on battery, and you dig up your charger and plug it in, leaving it balanced on the corner of the kitchen counter as you watch your mom cook. Watching her, it’s easy to see where you went wrong in the recipe, or where you went wrong by following the recipe – there are spices your mom uses that are nowhere to be found on the ingredient list. You didn’t watch her cook very often as a kid. Maybe you should have asked if you could help.

The three of you sit down to dinner, and it’s beyond weird. The family dinners you remember were full of silence, but it’s been over two years since you last saw your parents, which means there’s a lot to talk about. You’re not sure how to talk about your life now, so you ask your parents about theirs, and hear that your dad’s retired but your mom is working part-time teaching English at a local middle school. They like their neighbors a lot. In fact, they want you to meet their neighbors tomorrow night. Apparently the neighbors have been asking about you.

“We told them a little, but you’re so busy that we haven’t talked in a while,” your mom says. Now you get why they invited you to stay here. Not knowing what your only child is up to looks pretty bad. “How have things been for you? Are you still working in the public defenders’ office?”

“What about law school?” Your dad takes a sip of his drink. Sometime in the last three years, your parents got sort of into fancy wine. “Are you still planning to go back?”

“Yeah. Money’s still an issue. I had a hard time saving with how high my rent was.” You try your own wine, but you don’t know enough about wine to know if it’s any good. “I bought a house, though. So I guess that’s new.”

It’s quiet for a bit. When you look up from your plate, you find your parents staring at you with their jaws dropped. “You bought a house?” your mother repeats. “You can’t afford law school. How can you afford a house?”

“I didn’t have enough for law school. I had enough for a downpayment,” you say. “My mortgage payments are cheaper than my rent was.”

“That’s hard to imagine. Is it in a good neighborhood?” your dad asks. “If it isn’t – what’s funny?”

Your neighborhood, being good. “There are five other houses besides mine. Three of them have families in them. They’ve been really nice to me, mostly. We all get together sometimes.”

“What for?”

Strategy sessions. Ghost fights on the sidewalk. Conjurer ambushes that end with half the street wrecked and some of you injured. “Just regular stuff. I went to one of the kids’ parties last weekend. I brought Phantom. She was a hit.”

“Who?”

“My dog,” you say. “I’d just gotten her the last time we talked. Don’t you remember?”

“She sent us a picture,” your dad reminds your mom, while you tamp down your frustration. “Is someone looking after her this weekend?”

“Yeah. My –” The stumbling block of how to describe Tomura temporarily breaks your brain. “A friend.”

You covered it well, you think – but you weren’t fast enough. “What kind of friend?” your mother asks, way too interested. “A special friend?”

“God, Mom. No.” You imagine the look on Tomura’s face if he heard someone refer to him as your “special friend” and experience a brief but powerful urge to crawl into a vent and die. “A friend. Really, I could have asked anybody in the neighborhood. They’re all really – nice.”

“A house,” your father muses. “In a good neighborhood. You must have a lot of friends over.”

You can’t tell if he’s needling you or not. He knows you’ve never been the type to have a lot of friends. “It’s kind of a ways out from where everybody else lives. Most people don’t like driving that far.”

“Oh, so that’s how you could afford it.”

You could afford it because it’s so goddamn haunted that nobody else wanted it, and the only reason you kept it is because the ghost who haunts it let you stay. “I don’t mind. I’d rather drive than have roommates and a landlord.”

Your father nods sagely. Your mother’s on a different track. “What about dating? Is there anybody special?”

“No,” you say, lying your ass off. “I’m not seeing anybody.”

Your phone starts ringing on the counter, but you ignore it, and so do your parents. “I don’t want to rush you, but you ought to get a move on, don’t you think?” your mother presses. “You’re going to be twenty-seven soon. If you don’t hurry up, all the good ones will be gone. Don’t you want to settle down?”

“I’m as settled down as I’m going to get,” you say. Your phone starts ringing again, and you ignore it again, even though you’d almost take a telemarketer over this conversation. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

“You’re not disappointing us if that’s what makes you happy,” your dad says, and you’re impressed for about two seconds before he ruins it. “Are you sure that’s what will make you happy? What about –”

“What about kids?” your mother breaks in, looking honestly distressed. “Don’t you want kids? You’d be such a good mom –”

You would possibly be the worst mom on the planet. Your phone starts ringing again. “Are you going to get that?” your dad asks.

You should. Three calls in a row means it’s important, but this line of questioning from your parents is pissing you off, which means you’re not in the mood to do anything you should be doing. “Nope.”

“I’ll get it,” your mom announces. She picks up the phone and gasps. “Who’s Tomura?”

Your stomach drops like you’ve been kicked off a building. “Nobody,” you say. “He’s –”

“I knew you had a special friend!”

“He’s not a special friend!”

Your mom brandishes your phone, triumphant. “Then why is there a heart next to his name?”

He wouldn’t. He – you stare at the screen of your phone, and sure enough, there’s Tomura’s name on the caller ID, complete with an obnoxiously red heart emoji. You’re going to kill him. You seize the phone, accept the call, and press it to your ear. “What?”

Tomura sounds unfathomably sulky when he answers. “You got me the phone so we can talk while you aren’t here. Why didn’t you pick up?”

“I’m having dinner with my parents. It’s rude to pick up the phone at dinner.” You’re conscious of your parents staring at you with identical gleeful looks on their faces. “Just like it’s rude to call somebody three times in a row. What was so important?”

“You didn’t call me all day.”

“You didn’t call me, either,” you point out, trying not to lose your temper. If he had called you, you’d have noticed his little edit to his contact and gotten rid of it. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine. Phantom ate and everything.” Tomura’s quiet for a second. “You have parents?”

“Yesh,” you say. Did you tell him that’s who you were staying with? You don’t remember. “I’m staying with them, not at the hotel. They invited me.”

Tomura swears under his breath. You can hear him rustling around, but you’re not sure what he’s doing, and the longer you give your parents to prep for their interrogation, the worse it’s going to be for you. “Can I call you back in a little bit? I do want to talk to you. I just – can’t right now.”

“How long is a little bit?”

“I don’t know,” you say hopelessly. Why does it matter? It’s not like he’s going to fall asleep. “I will, though. I promise. I miss you.”

The words leave your mouth before you can really think them through, but it’s the truth. You do miss Tomura. You miss him extra right now, and you’re not looking forward to falling asleep without his presence lurking somewhere in the room. When you wake up from nightmares of the world between, he and Phantom are the only things that make you feel better. “I miss you, too,” Tomura says. Then he hangs up the phone.

You set it aside, then turn back to face your parents. “So,” your mother says, grinning, “who’s Tomura?”

Your ghost. The reason why you don’t date anymore. The reason why you’re as settled as you’re ever going to be and the reason why your parents aren’t getting grandkids and the reason you’re here at all in the first place. There’s no way to explain him that your parents will understand, so you pick the one thing they will understand, even if it’s sort of wrong. “My boyfriend.”

You stagger off to bed forty-five minutes later, feeling like you’ve been run over by a train. Your mom had lots of questions – about where you met Tomura, how long you’ve been seeing him, what he looks like, what he does for a living – almost all of which you had to lie about. You’re going to have to remember all those lies later, too. Your dad was more concerned about why you’d lie about having a boyfriend, at which point you lost patience a little bit and said that the conversation the three of you just had about it was all the reason you needed. Then your mom said she wanted to meet him, and you decided it was time to start clearing the table.

They have a guest room, which is where you’re staying. You get ready for bed, go inside, and shut the door before checking your phone again. You’ve got messages from Tomura – and from Keigo. You open Keigo’s first and grimace when you see what it says. The lights in your house are going berserk right now. If he’s trying to get ahold of you, you should pick up the phone.

Keigo sent a video, too. In it, the lights inside your house are flickering wildly, and the entire property seems to be surrounded by some kind of weird, wavering forcefield. Great. You check Tomura’s texts next. He wants to know where you are. Why you haven’t called him. Then there are a few texts of him winding himself up over reasons why you haven’t called him, externalizing a thought process you would have kept to yourself if it killed you, before it occurs to him that something might have happened to you. At which point the phone calls started. You dig your headphones out of your backpack, put them on, plug them in, and call Tomura back.

He picks up halfway through the first ring, and you start talking first. “I shouldn’t have gotten mad. I just wasn’t planning to tell my parents about you, and because you called me when you did – and because you put that emoji in your display name – they found out.”

“Why does it matter if they found out?” Tomura asks. “Why don’t you want to tell them about me?”

You almost point out that you said you weren’t planning to, not that you didn’t want to, but Tomura knows what you really meant. He knows you better than you think he does. “You’re hard to explain,” you say. “To people who don’t know about ghosts. It wouldn’t make sense to them.”

“Why not?” Tomura’s climbing the stairs. You can hear them creaking under his feet. “You’re my human. Not the kind of human Spinner and Jin are. The kind Aizawa is.”

“The kind Keigo is,” you correct. Tomura makes an irritated sound. “Aizawa and Hizashi are married.”

“So what? You’re that kind of human. That’s not hard to explain.”

Maybe it isn’t. Maybe you’re making this more complicated than it needs to be. “I told my parents you’re my boyfriend. I hope that’s okay.”

“Boyfriend,” Tomura repeats, like he’s never heard it before – but when he speaks up again, it’s clear he’s got a handle on what it means. “If that’s what you have to call it so people understand, fine. As long as they know you’re my human.”

You could probably play off Tomura calling you his human as a cute nickname or something, but you’d really prefer not to have to do that. “If I tell people you’re my boyfriend, they’ll understand for sure.”

“Good.”

There’s some rustling around on Tomura’s end of the line. “What are you doing?”  you ask. “Where are you?”

There’s a prolonged silence, which means Tomura’s somewhere he thinks he’s not supposed to be. There aren’t many options left these days. “You’re on the bed, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. So what?” More rustling. “It’s weird that you’re not here. I hate it.”

“I don’t like it, either,” you admit. When you close your eyes, it’s easy to picture Tomura stretched out on your side of the bed, taking up the space you usually would, head resting on your pillow. “Maybe there won’t be as much to go through tomorrow as I thought and I can get home tomorrow night instead.”

“The sooner you come back, the better.” Phantom’s collar rattles in the background of the call, and you know she’s jumped up on the bed with Tomura. “Spinner came over. He said I needed a game that wasn’t Rainbow Fish, so he gave me one and taught me how to play it. It’s – Pokémon?”

“He gave you something to play it on, too, right?” You need to thank Spinner. “What do you think of it?”

“It’s okay. The music is weird.” Tomura’s voice fades for a second, and you can hear Phantom slobbering into the microphone. “It was more fun before he left. I don’t like playing games alone.”

“You can ask him back over. I bet he wouldn’t mind,” you say. “Which starter did you pick? Fire, water, or grass?”

“Fire,” Tomura says. You could have guessed that. “My rival had water, though. I should have picked grass.”

“If you picked grass, your rival would have picked fire.”

“So they always pick the one that can beat yours?” Tomura sounds honestly pissed at the unfairness, and it makes you smile. “That’s stupid.”

“It would be boring if it was too easy,” you say. Tomura complains under his breath. “And they can’t beat you if you build a good team. I used to play that a lot as a kid. I can help if you want.”

“I don’t need help,” Tomura says. “You can watch if you want.”

“That sounds nice.” You imagine sitting next to Tomura with your head on his shoulder, letting the goofy Pokémon music lull you into a doze. It’s a weirdly relaxing image. You find yourself swallowing a yawn. “Sorry –”

“Go to sleep. If you don’t you’ll be slow, and then you’ll have to stay the extra day.” Tomura sounds annoyed, but he sounds annoyed any time you have to end an interaction before he wants it to end, so you’re used to it. What you’re not used to is what he says next. “If you have one of your nightmares, don’t just lay there doing that weird shivering thing. Call me.”

You lie there for a moment, stunned. You’ve never mentioned the nightmares to him. You never breathed a word. “How did you know?”

“I know what sounds you make in your sleep. When you’re having a nightmare they’re wrong.” Tomura’s quiet for a moment. “Don’t just lay there. Call.”

Your throat feels tight. “Okay.”

Tomura hangs up. You pull your headphones out of your ears, set your phone down on the nightstand, and squeeze your eyes shut. You don’t need to cry. There’s no reason why your eyes should well up.

You’re in your parents’ house. It’s a new house, but it feels the same as the old house. Even though your parents listen now. Even though they care about what’s going on in your life – for their own reasons, sure, but they care – your family is still the same way it’s always been. Quiet. Distant. Sterile. Your parents have seemed happier the last few times you’ve seen them. You’ve never admitted it out loud, to anyone, but you think they’ve been happier since you moved out, because you moved out. And that was okay with you. The last time you went back to visit, it was fine.

It’s not fine anymore – not because they’re different, but because you are. You remember Tomura saying once that he didn’t care about being alone before, but he does now. You didn’t let yourself care about the way your family was before, but you can’t stop yourself from caring now, because now you know how it feels to actually belong somewhere. You belong at your house. You’re wanted at your house. You make someone happy by being there. Somebody misses you when you’re gone, tells you to hurry back, tells you to call if you’ve had a nightmare. There’s probably something fucked up about the fact that the only person you’ve ever felt at home with isn’t even human. But you know what it means to feel at home now. Being away from that is hard. Harder than you want to handle.

You scramble for your phone, and it starts ringing in your hand. Tomura’s contact, with its stupid heart. You jam your headphones into your ears and accept the call, and for a moment you and Tomura are just talking over each other. The gist of it is pretty clear, though. You were about to call him, just when he decided to call you. “Um –”

“Stay on the phone while you’re sleeping. That way I’ll hear. And I can wake you up.”

Your heart lifts even though it shouldn’t. “How are you going to wake me up?”

You picture Tomura shrugging. “I’ll just yell.”

“Don’t yell.” The only thing that would be worse than having one of your nightmares is waking up from one to the sound of Tomura hollering in your ear. “If you hear me start to have one, hang up the phone and call me back. I’ll hear it ringing and it’ll wake me up.”

“Yelling is faster.”

“And it’s scarier,” you say. “You’d know if you slept.”

“Ghosts can’t.” Tomura’s quiet for a moment. “I wish we could.”

That strikes you as weird. It strikes you as weird any time Tomura talks about wanting to do one of the few human things materialized ghosts can’t do. “Why?”

Tomura doesn’t answer. “Fine. I won’t yell. Go to sleep.”

“Tomura –”

“Go to sleep,” Tomura says again. If you try to talk anymore, he’ll just ignore you. You hear Phantom snoring in the background and tell yourself that it’s time to sleep. You shut your eyes.

Somehow knowing that Tomura’s there on the other end of the line, knowing that he’ll wake you up if you start having one of your nightmares of the world between, helps you fall asleep. You think you hear Tomura whisper something as you drift off, but there’s no way you heard him right. It has to be a dream. At least it’s a better dream than the ones you’ve been having lately.

❝𝙃𝙀 𝙃𝙐𝙍𝙏 𝙈𝙀 𝘽𝙐𝙏 𝙄𝙏 𝙁𝙀𝙇𝙏 𝙇𝙄𝙆𝙀 𝙏𝙍𝙐𝙀 𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀.ᐟ❞

T. SHIGARAKI + HIMBO!M. READER

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 ; after you nearly get seen after tomura finally lets you go outside, he questions if you really love him and you play a game to prove it to him.

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 ; smut, stockholm syndrome, dark content, kidnapping(past tense/mentioned), reader is all might's son, oral(m receiving), degradation, praise, use of 'good boy', dacryphilia, death(mentioned/threatened), mean!tomura, reader's skin color not mentioned

Tomura had finally agreed to let you go outside! It had been probably months since you’d been this far outside, you were lurking in the darkness of alley’s but you could see people! You could smell the bakeries, hear people talking, and see all the shops you used to go to before. You were so happy! So happy that you barely were paying attention to what you were doing.

Your hands held the brick wall of an apartment building while you gazed at the teenagers talking and walking, they were students from the U.A., and that green-haired kid and endeavors son were with them too. You continued to stare in awe wishing you could just go out and talk with your friends like that, when you did go out like that you used to get so many people asking for pictures with you or asking you questions about your dad and you thought it was so annoying but now, compared to the isolated room you were always in, it didn’t seem so bad.

Without thinking, you put one foot in front of the other nearly stepping into the sunlight before there was a tight grip on your hair, down to your scalp pulling you back into the secluded darkness of the alley. You fell onto the grimy ground with a whine “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Tomura asked as you looked up at him from your spot on the ground, he was looking at you with the harshest glare in his blood-red eyes as he let go of your hair with his pinky still raised “Nothin’!” The excuse was nothing but a waste of your breath to the blue-haired man as he continued to glare down at you “Well it seems to me like you were about to let yourself be seen. Have you forgotten you’re still missing or have I fucked too many of your brains out?” He gruffly said grabbing you by your arm with his pinkie raised and pulling you to your feet as you looked at him with ashamed eyes as you pondered on what to say.

“No…I remember…” You said looking down at your feet with a slight pout on your lips knowing that if he saw it he’d get even more upset, all you were doing was trying to get a closer look! It’s not like you were trying to escape or anything, he was jumping to conclusions “So why the fuck are you acting like you don’t?” You flinched slightly at how he raised his voice while he began to drag you deeper down the alley retreating to the hideout. You shrugged as you looked away from him “Was an accident, didn’t mean to…” You mumbled trying to catch up with his fast pace looking back a final time at the teens as they passed but this time, one turned their head to look at you, it was endeavor’s son “It’s always ‘didn’t mean to’, ‘it was an accident!’ I’m tired of fucking hearing it.” Tomura said making your head turn back to him to look at him with the pout on your lips growing.

It was the truth! It was really an accident, he never believed you! What a jerk! “It was! Promise!” The words were practically a long whine as you tried to pry his fingers off your arm because he was squeezing it really tight and it was sure to leave a bruise later if he kept going “Just shut the hell up, all that comes out of your mouth is excuses and slutty whines.” You almost teared up at his insults but kept your mouth shut, you knew better than to keep talking after he told you not to. You learned that the first day you got here, he almost disintegrated your tongue.

You wondered what would be your punishment when you got back, would he lock you in the closet with no food again? Would he break your leg? Would he let Dabi burn you? There are so many things he’s done to you in the year you’ve been here that you don’t even remember what he hasn’t done yet. And he liked to be original with his punishments most of the time, so you didn’t expect it. It terrified you and that’s why he did it. 

You still loved him though, he’s the person who’s been taking care of you and giving you almost everything you wanted for the past year how could you not? Your loyalty lay with him and you’d never run away, you haven’t tried to use your quirk on him in seven months! But somehow that wasn’t enough to make him realize your faithfulness.

“Don’t start that crying shit. I haven’t even done anything to you.” Tomura said harshly looking at the tears that bubbled in your eyes while you two approached the door to the hideout, he opened it and shoved you inside as you wiped your eyes with the back of your hands.

“What’d he do now?” Dabi asked with a chuckle from his spot at the bar, he found this entire dynamic fucking hilarious, how you were like a puppy dog that followed Tomura everywhere and would pout and be upset the entire time when the blue-haired man wasn’t around, sometimes you’d even cry.

He’d often say how Tomura went too far when breaking your mind because now you were a Tinkerbell that acted like he would just die if Tomura didn’t show him a bit of attention.

You stood there looking down at the ground with furrowed brows as Tomura merely grunted in reaction “Go, I don’t want to fucking see you.” He said not even sparing you a glance and you looked at him with widened eyes at his harsh words wanting to say something but decided against it and followed his instructions with tears falling onto your cheeks while you sniffled. He was really upset at you, he didn’t even yell so you knew you were in for it. You’d probably never go outside again.

As you trodded into the room closing the door behind you, you let out soft whines and sobs because Tomura couldn’t hear you now and he couldn’t yell at you for crying because ‘you did it to yourself’ or ‘he didn’t even touch you’. Tomura hated seeing you cry and not because he felt bad but because you cried over the most pathetic things, you cried if he spoke to you any harsher than normally and it annoyed him. Don’t get him wrong, sometimes you have moments when your tears are justified, and 8 times outta 10, he ended up letting you cry to him about it because as much as he denied it to everyone but you, he cared for you which is why you’re still here and not disintegrated.

Tomura may have hated your tears because of how often they were spewing down the apples of your cheeks but god did they get him going, most of the time whenever you cried it ended in him fucking you so you’d stop fucking crying and it always worked.

You lowered yourself to the ground under the boarded-up window while wiping your red eyes harshly, it was a little sad how this villain got to him. You practically depended on him for everything, if he died you’d be lost. If proheros came and found you, you’d be lost. Sure you’d be home with your dad but you’d be completely lost, you wouldn’t know what to do. So why would you ever leave him? Was he just so mad that he couldn’t even think? He had to be! He didn’t have to know rocket science to figure out the dependency you had on him “So stupid…” You muttered looking down at the wooden floor, when you heard faint footsteps getting closer to the door, you looked up at the door sniffling.

The door opened revealing the blue-haired male, he didn’t say anything and just closed the door behind him and sat on the bed that was across from you not glancing at you and he just sat there his legs spread and hunched over. You wondered what he was going to say or what he was thinking about, you’re just glad Dabi didn’t follow him. You didn’t want second-degree burns on your neck again “M’ sorry…” You apologized leaning forward a bit with your hands planting themselves on the floor, you looked up at him with the largest puppy eyes you could manage and this is when he made eye contact with you.

His eyes weren’t narrowed as you expected nor was he glaring at you, he was simply looking down at you with his regular eyes but in his blood-red eyes, there was anger, you could see it swirling around in his cherry irises. He raised his pale hand before gesturing you over to him and you quickly obliged settling yourself in between his legs and not breaking eye contact with him at all “Do you know what would’ve happened if anyone saw you?” His raspy voice echoed in your ears as it took you a minute to process what he was saying, of course, you knew, he had told you over and over what would happen even in the beginning when you absolutely despised him.

An agreeing hum escaped your throat while you nodded slowly looking away from him shamefully “Say it.” Tomura said sternly his eyes narrowing down at you as he leaned his cheek on the back of his hand, you looked down at his hand that was resting on his thigh inches away from your face nervously before blinking back up at him “Heros will come…” Tomura’s pale and ashy hand that was closer to your face grabbed your jaw with his pinkie raised, his grip on your face was harsh “And if they along with your dear daddy comes, they’ll take you. You wanna be taken?” Former you would’ve said yes so quickly, you used to hate Tomura, he used to have to chain you up in the closet so you wouldn’t run away but now, you didn’t want to leave. You wanted to stay here with him forever “No…j’st wanted to look, was so pretty…” You grumbled out as your hands went to his arm wrapping your fingers around his wrist and forearm in an attempt to make him loosen his grip but all it did was make it tighten.

“I hope you enjoyed it because you’re never seeing it again, those ungrateful U.A. brats almost saw you.” You remembered making eye contact with Endeavor's son, you think his name was Shoto or somethin’? You felt guilty knowing this and not telling him but if you did tomu would probably be even more upset with you than he already was “Tomu! Please no, I won’t run away, promise!” You pleaded, you loved going outside even if it was just outside the hideout for fresh air, gosh why did you have to make that mistake the one-time Tomura let you go out with him to spy on people!? 

The shaggy-haired man let go of your jaw almost throwing your face back as he did so before turning his head away from you “Too bad, you didn’t do that earlier. Makes me think you don’t even love me.” Tomura responded he knew what he was doing, he was making you feel bad for what you did so you’d make it up to him because you should. I mean you were hurting his feelings so bad by doing that, it’s only right you make him believe you actually love him.

Your hands flew to his thighs as you looked up at him with wet eyes “I do, love you so much! Would do anythin’ f’you!” You yelled hoping he didn’t actually believe that, you saw the smirk on his face and heard the unserious tone in his voice but for some reason, you believed that’s actually what you thought. Jeez, if you couldn’t see that he was fucking with you he’d really fucked with your head.

He turned his head to look at you with his smirk widening “Anything is a lot baby, you sure?” You could feel your jeans getting tighter at his words and how lowly he spoke but you ignored it and nodded violently at his words while waiting for your next command looking up at him as he pondered what he should make you do. When you said anything, you meant anything. If he told you to shoot someone, you would. Of course, you’d hesitate, he knew that from fucking with you and making you think he’d have you do that. He was planning on fixing that.

Tomura planted his hand on your head making sure to raise his pointer finger so he didn’t turn you to dust right there “We’re gonna play a game.” You had no idea what he was planning to do which would make this even more interesting “You have five minutes to make me cum and with every minute that pasts, a finger goes on your neck.” The man said evilly while gently tapping one of his fingers on your neck, you froze and your face dropped at his words.

This wouldn’t be the first time Tomura had threatened your life and it definitely wouldn’t be the last but five minutes…? He expected to make him cum in only five minutes? “Wha-What?” You stuttered looking at him with wide eyes tears coming back up.

He scoffed and took his finger off your neck and put his hand by his side “I mean you don’t have to do it, it’s obvious you-” “No! I-I’ll do it!” You yelped slamming your hands on his scrawny thighs while straightening your back and getting your face closer to his, the difference between both of your eyes and what was hidden in them was very different.

A smile reappeared on Tomura’s face before he leaned back on his elbows “You better get started.” He said evilly putting his pointer finger on the side of your neck making your skin run cold and your eyes burn with tears that were just begging to be let free and roll down your face.

You couldn’t sit there like a little innocent dog staring at him like you didn’t have any idea of what he was going to do because you did. You knew he was going to do something like this and you knew no matter what it was, you’d do your part. Tomura has always been very open to you with his feelings and his intentions with you, he never hid them and yes they indeed changed over time of knowing you as did yours but he never lied to you about it. When he was going to hurt you, he let you know that whether it be with his words or the way he looked at you and sometimes it’d be optional and sometimes it was just something you needed to take.

The optional ones happened more often and it wasn’t optional like some fucked up saw the trap, it was optional like you do whatever he wants you to do or you don’t. You always chose to do it too.

Honestly, you were just as fucked as he was because you valued his trust and loyalty in you more than anything and wanted him to see you so you did things you didn’t have to just so he could know how much you loved him as if throwing away your freedom for him wasn’t enough. Not like you had it in the first place but when he allowed you to have it, you picked him over all.

And you would continue to.

So you had no right to treat him like he was some big bad villain because you did something he didn’t force you to do. Tomura was an awful guy that’s not a secret and anyone will say that even you but you were right there by his leg huddling your cheek further into the fabric of his jeans as you unbuttoned them ignoring all the awful things he had done.

“Do I need to help you or are you gonna hurry up?” Tomura asked making you blink up at him with a nod of your head but he grabbed your hair lifting one of his fingers and pulled at your roots “Speak. I don’t understand that shit.” He glared at you as you hissed at the feeling of your hair being pulled at harshly.

“‘M gonna hurry up…” You mumbled gripping his pants and squeezing your eyes shut and he let go of your hair and leaned back on his hands staring at you waiting for you to continue. You quickly unzipped his pants and pulled them down to his ankles along with his boxers.

You took one last look at him before opening your mouth and shoving your head down on his dick wasting no time before you got to sucking reaching your hands up to play with his heavy balls “Oh you really wanna live huh?” Tomura said with a laugh one of his fingers hovering dangerously close to your skin as he counted down the seconds to one minute.

The way he said it really made you think he wanted you to die. He just wanted to disintegrate you and turn you into ash. That hurt your feelings more than him threatening your life did.

Tears streamed down your face as you sobbed on his cock trying your hardest to make him cum before your five minutes were up. Your tongue ran up and down him, as you choked gently as his tip hit the back of your throat over and over every time your head bobbed. Tomura began thrusting his hips up pushing himself further into your mouth.

The sight of your plump lips wrapped around his cock working so hard just to please him was exciting for him and he could cum faster if you kept fucking looking at him like that tears in your eyes but he held back. He didn’t know how long he’d hold back but he definitely wasn’t giving you the satisfaction of cumming within four minutes. Tomura also wanted to know if you’d cum first.

He knew of your infatuation with him and he wanted to see if you’d cum within those five minutes maybe even before you made him cum just off sucking him dry and being threatened. Tomura wanted to see how much of a slut you were even though he already knew.

And he knew you were rock hard in your little boxers pre-cum leaking from your tip just twitching and aching to be touched.

“Oh fuck…” He mewled lowly throwing his head back and putting one finger on your neck making chills run down your spine “One minute down, you sure you can do it, baby?” Tomura asked as if he hadn’t moaned a second ago but maybe that was just because he was enjoying the stress he was putting on you.

Your sobs got louder as you tried to get some friction on your dick from rubbing it against the frame of the bed and you came in your pants choking on your moans and Tomura. You took your mouth off him and began to jerk him off with one of your hands the other continuing its work on his balls “Please tomu’! I’m so sorry!” You wept knowing two minutes were close to past only leaving three left.

“I don’t know…still waiting for you to prove it t’me,” Tomura said with an evil grin on his face placing another finger on the side of your neck. He wasn’t being fair! You were trying so hard to prove that you were sorry!!

“Please tomu’!” You didn’t even know what you were begging for at this point and neither did Tomura but he wanted you to shut the hell up. He was quick to shove your mouth back down on his length silencing your words but not your moans or sobs; those were incredibly loud and anyone in the bar could probably hear them. Not like either of you cared very much.

Tomura’s hips stuttered as he resisted the urge to thrust up in your mouth as he had done before and that’s when it hit you. He was holding off on cumming. He was wasting time and purposefully making it run out!

He really did want you to die.

You tore your mouth off him along with your hands backing up and leaning against the floor staring up at him with such teary eyes “Fuck are you doin’?” Tomura asked making eye contact with you his brows furrowed as he was close.

Your hand came up to wipe at your mouth covered in drool “You were holding back. ‘S not fair.” You mumbled looking away from him and instead focusing on the ground but your eyes drifted to your crotch seeing the wet patch formed in your pants. Your legs closed to hide your shameful act but the red-eyed man had already seen it.

“I wasn’t gonna let the time run out.”

“Are you sure?”

Gathering the courage, you looked up at him again “Did you really want to kill me?” You asked your voice breaking. The idea that he’d hate you or want you gone in any way was awful and degraded your mind never failing to leave tears behind and you wanted to know if he really did. He’d threatened you so many times that it only added up that it was true.

“No.” Tomura gruffly said continuing to stare down at the strands of blue covering his visage “I need you here beside me.” He said and you looked up at him with hope in your eyes a smile nearly forming on your face.

There was silence as you stared at him processing his words “You need me too, don’t you?” You didn’t hesitate to nod crawling on your knees and ending back in between his legs again. You really did need Tomura…you didn’t think you’d be able to live if you didn’t have him.

He took care of you, he made sure you were safe, he helped you and the bad times were just a small part of that. All relationships have their downs compared to their ups right? Even if you two weren’t really in a relationship.

“I do…I’m really sorry about earlier. Believe me.” You murmured pressing your cheek against his thigh and nudging it into his skin blinking up at him ignoring his twitching hard cock right next to your face. Tomura just stared at you his scarlet look burning into your face no emotion showed on his face but when he placed a hand on your head making sure to raise his pointer finger, you knew he forgave you.

“Good.”

©torasplanet .ᐟ reblogs and likes are very appreciated! pls do not repost!!

Alright so..it is personnal i don't ship shame but i'm sorry but shipping Tomura and Afo is litteraly not okay. Bro raised groomed and ruin Tomura's life like..what ? Like litteraly what ?!

𝐀𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠.

Could be seen as a continuation to All of It, but the idea came from @tenkomura, bc when am i ever not thinking about something she said

Maybe you hate your younger self for being so naive.

Perhaps its because you cling to the memories of before, when everything was so much simpler and All For One was commanding Shigaraki to act. When he messed up, or when you messed up, All For One simply caressed your heads in such a comforting way that the loss felt like nothing.

Oh, how you loved him. Everything was so much easier when it was him. Yes he was the future, yes you were the symbols of fear, but to you he was just Tomura. Its the silent understanding that you both had, that even though the entire world was against you and the cause it was okay because you were together.

He loved you, it didn't need to be said. Even when the league expanded, it was still just you and him. Not to say he doesnt care for the league, because that would be a lie. But the love he has for them pales in comparison to the love he holds for you in the crevices of his heart. Its heard in the blood pumping in his veins and its sung in the whispers of his calm breathing when he's with you.

But you're villains. Villains don't get an ounce of peace. So when the league has ended Overhaul's short lived reign, and everyone's stopped and caught their breath. You sit with him in silence on the side of a bare highway that you'd been walking.

Maybe its foolish, but you follow him like a dog. You watch as Shigaraki opens the case of quirk erasing bullets. He stares. Almost like he wants to test if it works.

You sit next to him, sat shoulder to shoulder now. He simply says "If I erased my quirk, we could be normal." And you don't need to be a genius to know what he means, he means if he didn't have decay he would have a home. If he didn't have decay he wouldn't be All for One's subject of interest, id he didn't have this damn quirk he could be normal with you.

Would there even be a you though?

"Hm, maybe." you supply "You wouldn't have met me though, and I would trade any chances of being normal if it meant i got to be with you." you say, and Shigaraki stills.

"I... I think I would too." he smiles, its a crackly smile that makes blood speck on his lips that you just want to kiss already.

"When this is all over, lets go on a date. Okay?" you ask, your eyes now gazing up at him with hope.

Shigaraki's eyes widen, and looks to the quirk erasing bullets and quickly shuts them. "You promise?" he asks almost eagerly, and you hold up your pinky "pinky swear!"

Oh you fools.

Which is what's left you to stare at Shigaraki's tube. His body floating in the liquid endlessly for whats felt like years, but you know its only been a month or two. You feel so naive for ever thinking it would just be over, because of course its never over.

He would be the new holder of all for one. Because fate stops for nothing and no one, not even love. You hate yourself for being naive enough to hope that you would ever get to love him peacefully. You hate him for not realizing when you did that All for One was using you both. You hate All for One for taking your lives away from you.

This would never be over, Shigaraki will never give pinky promise kisses again, and he'll never build redstone farms for you when you get too frustrated and rage quit. He's never going to reach out for you again, and you're going to spend the rest of your life reaching for someone who's never going to reach back.

You press your head to the glass and cry. The doctor is used to your sobs though ans has grown to ignoring them, which you suppose is a win. But it still doesn't soothe the ache in your chest as you wish for everything to be different, and you pray every night that this is a bad dream. You pray that this is a nightmare and that night Shigaraki did use that quirk erasing bullet. You pray for this to be a bad dream of his and he never developed decay.

Because you would never trade your life with Shigaraki for normalcy, but you love him too much to watch him do this. You wished he would trade you for normalcy because loving him through this and always is simply too much.

Well..Tomura come here baby🤌✨

Who is it?💕

I am writing a sailor au rn and I can still choose what to make it so let's choose together!!!

(Don't say anything. I know I have a million wins and so many things to write Don't SAY A WORD)

The premise is that reader is disguised as a man bc women aren't allowed on ships and gets found out eventually and the punishment is death but reader escapes

Bloodline

summary: Tomura Shigaraki teaches you a lot of things. part two of good girl cross posted to ao3 word count: 4.4k content: Tomura Shigaraki x female reader, established relationship, explicit content, AU - no quirks, strict parents, oral (m! recieving), vaginal fingering, creampie, rough sex, praise kink

Tomura Shigaraki teaches you a lot of things.

He teaches you the secret tricks to win at mario kart online, he teaches you about the location tracker on your phone and how to disable it; your parents now being unable to watch your every move. And today he is teaching you how to fully take his cock down your throat without choking. 

“Relax, just like that,'' Tomura groans as he pushes deeper into your mouth. 

You have both been at this for a few minutes and you already feel the ache of your jaw as you try to accommodate for his size. Youve gotten this far before, able to take the head and a bit more, but never the entire length.

Feeling brave, you try to push for only a little bit more, before feeling the telltale jerk and gag as it hits the back of your mouth. Damn that gag reflex. 

“It’s okay,” he gasps, brushing your hair back with his fingers, gentle and warm, “you’re supposed to gag on it.” The grin on his face makes you wonder how much of that is true, but you’re eager so you don’t dwell on it.

Looking up at him with tears stuck to your lashes and drool trailing down your chin, you place a hand on his hip, pulling back a little so that you could stroke the remainder of his length with your other hand. 

The carpet was rough, digging into your knees as you adjusted your weight. You were going to figure this out by the end of the night. You were determined to. You sucked the head of his cock before pulling back to glide your tongue over the tip, tasting the salty precum before going in again.

This time you took his advice, relaxed as best you could and pushed past the uncomfortable sensation. Once you finally felt you were past that damned reflex it was easy to push forward. 

Moving your hand to the other side of his hip for better grip, you dove further and further. Trying to take him all the way to the hilt. 

“Ah, fuck…” you heard him groan above you, the hand in your hair gripping tighter. You could practically feel the restraint he had on himself to keep from fucking into your mouth. You weren't ready just yet. “That’s my girl,” he started, hand in your hair pushing you even lower, your nose brushing against the curly hairs on his pelvis. “Such a fast learner.” 

The grip he had on your hair never faltered as you strained to pull back, lack of oxygen becoming a little much for you. He relented, giving you a second to breathe before pushing your head back down, making sure you were comfortable before he brought his other hand to your head and snapped his hips forward. Resolve finally breaking as he fucked into your mouth, head thrown back and pace relentless. 

It was overwhelming, tears falling from your eyes from the sheer shock, but you wanted to be good for him. You wanted to show him you could take him, just like he knew you could. It didn’t matter if it was too much too soon, you would fight through it and adjust. Anything to make him feel as good as he makes you feel. 

You close your eyes, starting to enjoy the ride of him and allowing yourself to be used for his pleasure. When his hips slowed, you wondered if he was getting close. Looking up, you’re met with tomura’s red gaze peering back at you, and you can feel your slick wet your panties even more.

“My pretty girl,” he brings a hand to brush your hair back again. “Touch yourself.”

And you do. Legs parting as much as you could, ignoring the friction of the carpet on your knees, you trail a hand down, sliding between your panties and right onto that special spot that makes you see stars. 

Tomura is pleased by this, and you can’t help but moan around his cock. Watching as his head lolled back in pleasure gave you a sense of pride. Made you want to keep sucking him off, no matter how much your jaw started to ache in protest.

You relinquished control again, allowing him to grind into your mouth as he pleased, your tongue working under his gliding cock. His thrusts became more uneven and erratic, you knew he was close, so, you do what you can to make sure you come with him. Rubbing your wet clit faster with two fingers instead of one, the pleasure bubbling up inside as you near your end. You wished you had the angle to slip a finger into your entrance, but you don’t, it's alright. You‘ll make do with what you have.

Tomura takes both hands and grips your hair, giving a few more thrusts until he is pushing your head forward, making you take him all the way to the hilt leaving no room to back away or stop him. You feel the twitch of his cock as hot cum shoots down your throat. The sensation was one you were less than prepared for, but you do your best to swallow around his cock. 

You barely have time to think about the lack of oxygen the position grants you before Tomura is pulling you off of his cock and pushing you to lie on the floor. He spreads your legs, swiftly discarding your panties and taking two fingers, pressing them to your mouth. You take them in, coating them with saliva while maintaining eye contact. He huffs a laugh before taking them back and spreading your legs further apart. 

Your heart hammers against your chest in anticipation as he brings not one but both fingers to your entrance. His face focused and filled with want as he gives you one last glance. It makes you feel electric. 

He thrusts both fingers into your heat, the suddenness of it makes you moan, loud. His fingers are long and thick and it takes everything in you not to cum right away. You do your best to meet his thrusts with your hips, before he grabs you by the waist. 

“Stop,” was the only warning he gave you before putting one on your legs on his shoulder for better leverage. All it takes is a curl of his digits and you come undone. Bliss buzzing down to your bones as you ride out your high on his fingers. 

You look up and Tomura has that cocky smirk on his face and you don't know if you want to kiss it off or knock it off. You don't have time to dwell on it because your body is still reeling from waves of pleasure and Tomura is still pumping his fingers. 

The overstimulation is making you pull away, but his grip on your thigh makes sure you go nowhere. “C’mon, give me another one. I know you have it in you.”

Your body shakes as the sensations start to blend together, and you reach a feeble hand down to stop him. The aftershocks of your first orgasm quickly begin to build and build until you feel the coil of another threatening to push you over again. Tomura leans over your cunt, dropping a thick bead of spit right on your clit and rubbing the bundle of nerves with his thumb. 

This takes you over, your legs shaking and eyes rolling back as your second orgasm of the night wracks through you. “Yeah, that's it.” Tomura praises, fucking you through it with his fingers, wet noises filling the room. 

Your brain feels like mush as you fight to stay awake. Cumming feels nice, but you didn't want to sleep on the floor. Tomura believes you’ve had enough and takes his fingers out, standing up and walking to the en suite bathroom in his bedroom.

You hear the sounds of running water and battle once more to remain conscious. When he comes back you feel the warmth of a  washcloth cleaning you up and you’re grateful. 

He helps you to bed, legs feeling like jello and knees wobbling.

You felt like something fragile, like you would break at the slightest noise. The headspace you were in made you feel needy, like all you wanted to do was cling to him under the covers. And you did, your body meeting his as you can finally drift off to sleep in peace. 

—--

Something different was brewing under the surface of whatever you and Tomura shared. It was growing and it was hungry. It was something Tomura couldn’t quite place his finger on, but it was bubbling in the back of his mind and threatening to take him under. 

There was no time for him to dwell on whatever that thing is because right now? There was another problem staring him dead in the face.

“Ah, Tomura, hello.” The man speaks, breaking the uncomfortable silence between the two. Smile gracing his worn features, “what a pleasure to see you.” 

Tomura could think of a thousand other things that would be more pleasurable than having a meeting with his Father. 

“Father.”

His smile to others would come off as off putting, never quite meeting his eyes, but Tomura has grown to know it well. Even through the screen he could feel the waves of displeasure coming from the man before him. Previously sitting in the video chat waiting room, he could only wonder what reason this impromptu meeting was called for. 

“So I heard you have a new lady friend.” 

Ah. That's what this is about. Damn you, Kurogiri. Always a snitch. 

Tomura only shrugs, not seeing a point in discussing his private life. His father never interfered before, he doesn’t see why he should now. 

This seems to displease the man further, as he only purses his lips and tilts his head. Not an answer he was looking for. He decides to change tactics. “I didn’t know you wanted children, Tomura. And so soon!” 

His eyes narrow in response, unsure what game he was playing. “I don’t.”

The man before him smiles, light in his room shrouding his eyes in a shadow. “You're not acting like you don’t.” 

Tomura is quiet. He knew this father well, there was always a reason for his actions. Always a motive behind his intentions.

The man before him continues, voice lightly echoing through the screen, “Kurogiri tells me you’ve been more… active. You are free to do as you please, Tomura, but please remember that everything I am doing with this business is for you. If you expect to take over when I step down then I expect you to be a little more responsible.” 

He’s shocked, Tomura felt the familiar itch of his neck and fought to keep his hands from digging into the skin there. “How did you know that–?”

“You know Kurogiri takes out the trash. He buys things for you. It didn't take much to deduce you weren't using protection. Is she on birth control at least?” 

The silence gives him his answer. 

“Well that just won't do, will it?” he coos, knowing he has Tomura against a wall. “It’s alright Tomura.” He continues, solution on his tongue, sweeping the displeasure under the rug. “I will talk to the doctor and see if he can get you something for her. He will be in contact soon. I will check in again with you after.” 

There was no room for debate, no room for arguments. What he says is absolute and Tomura knows this. “Yes, father.”

—--------

The next time you meet, the air is different. Tomura is more reserved than he usually is. If you didn't know any better you would say he had been sulking. 

“What's your deal today?” you ask, flicking his forehead and biting back a smile at his halfhearted glare. 

He only shrugs, standing from his place next to you on the bed. “I have something for you.”

This piques your interests, eyebrow raised and smile dancing across your lips. “Oh? I thought you weren’t big on gifts.”

“I’m not.” He walks over to his desk, pulling out a package from one of his drawers, “but if we’re going to keep doing this like we are then you need to take these.”

He holds the case out to you, watching your eyes dart from his face to the package. “It’s birth control. We shouldn’t be reckless.”

“Oh, Tomura, no I can't take this.” you start, shaking your head, “and I can't bring this home to my parents, they would kill me. Where did you even get this from?”

“They won’t know. And my father is really good friends with our family doctor. You just take them once a day everyday and we can fuck without condoms with no problems.”

You frowned at the small box in your hand. “I don’t know. It sounds risky.”

“More risky than you turning up pregnant?”

“No, I guess not. Okay.”

His shoulders relaxed, tension leaving him. You went back to hanging out like normal.

—-----

“My parents have been getting more suspicious of Mina.” You say, falling onto the couch next to Tomura, over-buttered popcorn in your hand spilling a bit from the drop. 

“Oh, have they now?” 

You nod, taking a piece and popping it into your mouth. It was finally the weekend and Tomura promised he would watch this new thriller movie with you. 

“They say that it's not normal for me to hang out with a friend that much. Especially since they haven't seen her around as often.” you shrug, “they also aren't happy about my lack of location. I’m worried they’ll start snooping around my room next.”

Tomura places an arm over your shoulder, pulling you into his side and knocking more popcorn onto the couch in the process. Kurogiri will give you both an earful for the mess later.

“It’s fine. Worst case scenario we just lay low for a little bit. They can’t keep you under their thumb forever.”

He had a point, but you couldn’t ignore the pit forming in your chest. You didn’t want to have to sneak around all the time. There shouldn’t be anything keeping you from seeing who you wanted, whenever you wanted. You were an adult damn it. 

Especially not since you’ve started to feel… closer to Tomura these days. Before it was fun and things were done on a whim, but now? Now you felt sick at the thought of cutting him off. 

“If this movie blows, you owe me.” The rasp of his voice pulls you out of your thoughts. 

“It wont! The previews were really good.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He mumbled, playing the movie and reaching for the popcorn. You could only push your thoughts to the back of your mind, desperate to enjoy whatever you both had right now.

The movie was bad. It was cliche. Predictable. And Tomura was having the time of his life letting you know that. 

“And for her to go further into the house instead of just running toward the front door? Idiot.”

Your pride was too big to be put to the side. “Oh, yeah? Like you would have thought of that in the heat of the moment.”

He scoffed, “I would have.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Yes huh.”

You rolled your eyes, standing from the couch, relishing in the fact that Tomura was trailing behind you. Eager to talk about the movie and more into it than he let on.

“I’m just saying, you wouldn’t have had a chance unless you’re secretly some kind of murderer and know the tricks already.”

Tomura stopped, looking at you from across the kitchen island. “Who knows? Maybe I am. Maybe your parents are right about me.” 

You can’t bite back your scoff, placing the empty popcorn bowl in the sink and looking at him with a raised brow. “Oh really?”

He leans forward, palms pressing into the island counter. 

“Yeah,” he starts, a grin spreading along his face, “maybe I'm the big bad wolf they think I am.” 

You know that he’s trying to be intimidating, trying to tease you, but the drop in his voice only goes straight to heat between your thighs. You don't know what game he’s playing at, but you could take the bait. 

“Oh no,” you exaggerate, voice raising a few octaves, “that would just be terrible!” 

He takes a step to round the island counter, but you’re faster, dashing off into a sprint further into his home. 

The home was large, but you had been in it enough to know your way around pretty well. You took the familiar path to his room, (through the living room, up the stairs). After almost losing your footing on the stairs you vowed to never make fun of the horror movie girls who always seemed to fall at the worst time. 

Your breath was ragged as you continued, hearing Tomura’s steps behind you and steadily getting closer–

“Ah!” You cried, barely making it through the doors before being tackled to the floor, mercy not being shown as Tomura grabbed your hair, pressing you further into the carpet. “Okay, okay!”

He didn't let up, instead leaning forward, lips so close to your ear you could feel them, “I told you. The movie was bad, you owe me.”

You gasp as he stands, pulling you up with him only to push you onto his bed. You were giddy with excitement, barely able to raise up before Tomura pushed you back down, reaching forward to take your shorts and panties off in one swoop. 

The cool air made you shiver as you sighed in relief. 

Tomura laughs, bringing a finger to your entrance and sliding it along your folds, “Did me chasing you really get you this wet?”

You could only whine as he pressed a finger inside, resistance minimal. 

“I guess it can’t be helped.” The drag of his finger was slow as he pressed the small of your back, knees sliding further apart and exposing yourself to him more. 

“T-tomura, please!” you cry, begging him to go faster. “More.”

“Oh? You want more? Is this not doing it for you? Could have fooled me.” He pulls his finger out, a whine on your lips before he smacks your ass, no doubt leaving a mark, and grabs your hair again. He presses your face into the pillow to muffle your cry. “Shut up. I’ll tell you when you can get more.” 

He slides two fingers in, the stretch making you bite a moan into the pillow below you. 

His pace is merciless as he fingers you, mocking his earlier slow pace. A punishment of some kind since you were so desperate for more. If you wanted more then he would give you more. 

You couldn't quiet your mewls as he met the spongy bundle of nerves inside and you could feel your inner thighs tensing in anticipation as you grew closer and closer to your end. It was so close you could taste it. 

And then there was nothing. 

Tomura was cruel. He was cruel, and evil, and so fucking mean and you wasted no time letting him know these things. Only to get a laugh in return. 

“What? Were you close?” He mocked, bringing his weight down onto your back to whisper into your ear. “Too bad.”

You felt it then, the press of his cock along your entrance and whined. Tomura was too good at this villain role he was playing and you couldn’t stop yourself from getting even more aroused from the denial. You could practically feel yourself dripping in anticipation. His cruel words sending arousal straight to your pussy.

The way he towered over you only made you more eager. Crowding your senses and sending you into overdrive as you struggled to think clearly.  As much as you wanted to press back into his erection you knew that would only make him drag it out longer. 

Tomura was currently gliding his cock between your folds, the head brushing your clit and finally giving you some kind of relief. You felt him press harder on the small of you back, bringing your hips flush with the bed as he fucked between your folds. His cock meeting your clit at every thrust. Tomura moaned at this, his erection pressed between your warm body and the soft sheets. 

“T-tomura,” you moaned, letting your head fall to the pillow below you, “I can't take it.” 

Seemingly done with teasing you and at the limit himself, Tomura listened. Backing away to line up with your dripping cunt. The pressure was relieving, a sign that you would finally get what you want. But he stops, expecting, “what do you say?”

You bite your lower lip, frustrated at needing to do more. “Please, please give it to me, Tomura.”

This satisfies him, the press of his cock finally entering you has you both sighing in satisfaction. His slow drags quickly turn into full blown thrusts as he pounds you into the bed. You feel lightweight.

Your brows furrow as your hand grips the comforter below, the pleasure was creeping up again and it was only a matter of time before the rope inside you snapped. 

You feel Tomura grip your hip so tight you know it’ll have a bruise when this is all over, and he leans forward. Lips in their familiar place by your ear, “yeah, take it. Take it like a good girl.” 

It was impossible to stop the whimper as you felt Tomura’s thrusts getting more erratic. The warmth of his chest is comforting as he crowds over you. Feeling Tomura come undone is almost as satisfying as your own undoing. 

The way he bites your shoulder to quiet his own groans leaves you breathless. The pain mixes with the pleasure and you can keep yourself from crying out. You squeeze your eyes shut as your release washes over you, gripping his bedsheets below for dear life as the wind is knocked from you and the erratic thrusts inside you reach a new high. 

Tomura’s deep groan is the only warning you get before you feel the familiar twitch of his cock and warmth spread across your insides. His hips stutter as he rides out his orgasm, placing gentle kisses and licks onto your shoulder. Trailing those kisses up your shoulder and onto your neck, warmth tracing along the areas. 

He drops his head onto your shoulder, giving himself a moment before pulling back and out of you. You shiver as the once full feeling leaves you, cum trailing behind and onto his sheets, now in dire need of washing. 

This part is always your favorite.

It's soft, it's slow and it's calm.

Like there's nothing else outside of this room. No responsibilities, no time limit on a relationship, nothing. It's just you. It's just him and it’s all you want right now. You let yourself relax in tomura’s cloudlike bed, eyes falling shut. You’re surrounded by the cozy feeling and soft smell of his scent on the pillow. 

You could feel the fuzz of sleep taking over your brain and fought desperately to keep it at bay. You knew once you woke up reality would be knocking on your door. 

Your worries dissipate as you feel warm fingers brush your hair. 

You turn towards him and meet ruby red. Tomura was looking at you. Tomura was looking through you. It sent heat to your cheeks as you looked back. You close your eyes, leaning into his gentle touch. Tomura was very touchy. Like his hands could make up for the things his mouth couldn't say. You didn’t press or pry, it didn’t feel like your place. 

Tomura has always had his own way of opening up when he needed to. 

So for now you just enjoyed the feelings, enjoyed the butterflies dancing in your stomach and the feather light touch in your hair. You feel the press of lips to your temple and don't bother to hold back your smile as you drift off to sleep.

—----

You're putting on your shoes when you notice it. A compartment in your overnight bag was opened. One that you swore you had zipped closed before heading over. 

“Hey,” Tomura calls, from his place at his desk and breaking your train of thought. He reaches into his desk drawer and pulls out a packet. “I have your dose for next month.”

You’ve become very familiar with the small pack of birth control pills over the last month. “Oh,  thanks.”

Tomura hums, attention falling back onto his pc and the youtube video playing on it, “Yeah, give me the old package.”

You take the item from his distracted hand and begin rummaging through your overnight bag. 

You frown, “I'm looking for it. It should be in my bag, I swear I brought it with me.” You feel your anxiety spike as you empty all of the contents of your cream colored bag, going as far as to turn it inside out. No pills.

Shigaraki isn’t bothered. “You may have left it at your place. It's fine. Just bring it to me when you find it and I'll get rid of it.”

“No, that's what I'm worried about. I know I put them in here.” Your heart sinks, you don't think they would stoop as low as to go through your overnight bag, but you know better. Your father knows no boundaries. 

Fuck.

—----

You make it home a little after the sun has set and you thank the stars that the living room is empty on your arrival. 

Actually, the entire house feels empty on your arrival. Your abdomen feels full of lead as you trek through your dark home. Too dark for the time of day. 

You could turn tail and run now. Quit while you're ahead and avoid whatever may be waiting for you, but you know that’s an over exaggeration. There could be nothing wrong. You steel yourself and continue to your room. 

The strip of light pouring from underneath your closed door has your palms sweaty as you swallow your nerves. You push your bedroom door open to be met with

Nothing. 

It is as empty as your home and you almost kick yourself for being so theatrical. You huff a sigh as you place your bag down and walk towards your bed. You're not sure how it slipped your sight the first time, but now you’re close enough and cannot ignore the note placed on your neatly made bed.

A note, handwritten and from your parents, with your empty container of birth control pills placed on top of it.