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yanderenightmare · 7 months

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How does Shiggy react to a darling who developed Stockholm Syndrome?

Shigaraki Tomura

TW: NSFW, captive darling, Stockholm Syndrome, ish benevolent sexism

fem reader

You kissed him a little while back.

It was strange, as though you’d forgotten yourself – lost yourself in the heat of the moment. But no, it had been deliberate and long-lasting – earnest and needy even. And had rendered him both speechless and in a panic.

He’d entered the room in a rigid mood and woken you up with a bite to your ass. Pulling your thighs snugly around him with his cock already swole between them – tugging your panties down your thighs while you were still rubbing the sleep from your eyes with a yawn.

You’d learned rather quickly never to fight him. He’d punish you with bitemarks and no food, and ultimately you grew too weak to reject him anyway. So your casual acceptance wasn’t anything new where you patiently awaited getting fucked – lying on your back while looking down at his fat member disappearing inside you with only a tiny moan slipping free from your lips.

You took him obediently as you’d done for a while – without protest. The only difference occurred after he’d twisted the two of you around so you could straddle and ride him. You’d pressed your naked breasts into his chest and taken his face in your hands – gently as you rolled your hips without guidance – and then, right before the kiss, you’d said, so very softly, “I missed you today… it’s boring here without you~”

Your voice was sultry, kissing him tender yet deeply – pouring sweet moans into his mouth while your hands tangled in his hair.

You’d traveled to his neck after, and he came as soon as your tongue licked the scars found there – digging his fingers into the plush of your hips, keeping you seated as he spluttered all his worth inside you.

He’d been in such a state of post-shock that he’d rushed out just after. Leaving you.

Kurogiri had pointed out his blush while he sat at the bar, mulling it over with a bottle of brown in his grip. He shuddered, recurring the feeling – your pillowy wet lips on his, those words leaving your tongue, your hands playing with his hair, pulling him close. His chest felt tight, just as tight as the furrow between his brows.

Dabi sat down a couple of stools away sometime later in the night. Often, Shigaraki would abstain from engaging in conversation with the guy, but really, at least in this case, he was the best choice of any to ask for input. After all, they weren’t all that different. Actually, when it came to basics, they were both pretty similar – same-aged, ugly, and ridden with family issues from scars to fractured memories.

Dabi gave him a dumb look, his brow raised as though to ask what he was staring at after noticing his side-eye.

“You still have the same girl?” He jumped straight to it.

Dabi’s dumb expression turned dumber. Confused, maybe not so much by the question itself but by why the boss was even talking to him. But most emotions are like matches for Dabi, and they burn out before they’re able to light any fires. Soon, the usual sense of disinterest washed over him, and his face eased up into that chronic jaded look.

Shigaraki nearly lost patience, reminded once again why he couldn’t stand the guy – rude as ever and so slow it made his skin itch. But then he gave his answer, “Yeah, I still have her.”

“She difficult?” Shigaraki followed up.

And Dabi took his time once again, hauling out the seconds before offering his answer in a drawl. “No, Stockholm Syndrome kicked in quickly.”

Shigaraki let it settle - Stockholm Syndrome – before looking back at his drink and repeating the thought once again. Stockholm Syndrome.

“It’s strange, isn’t it?” He mumbled then.

Dabi sighed, taking a swig of his beer. It was already the third one, but he’d only been sitting there for about half an hour. “Not really…” He disagreed. “Most girls are better survivors.”

It was Shigaraki’s turn to look dumb, looking puzzled as he stared down the barrel to his bottle – in wait of an explanation – almost as though he was under the impression it was the drink who was speaking and not the patch-faced raven-head sitting beside him.

“They learn quickly to accept what will keep them safe, and then, they find solace in whatever they can to maintain their mental health as well…” Said raven-haired guy continued – then he scoffed. “Boys fight until they break. Leaving them a shell of what they once were. But girls don’t have the same pride.”

He swirled his bottle, stove-top blue eyes lazy, looking at the last of his drink storm with waves inside the green glass.

“They leave themselves behind and become someone new.” He offered a dry chuckle, and Shigaraki spotted the unsightly way his staples only barely held the split of his smile together. “It’s actually kind of scary.” He finished before downing the last gulp, setting the bottle down with a bang.

He swung off his stool, shoving his hands down his pockets, and walked away – his back turned.

“If I were you, I’d embrace it, boss. Despite what we try to believe, that shit feels best when it’s given willingly.”

Shigaraki sat there a moment longer. Long enough to get cut off by Kurogiri, who told him drinking anymore would be a bad idea.

When he got back to the room, you were sleeping again.

He stood and stared at you for a moment.

Was this a game you were playing? Was it a joke?

You’d pulled on one of his hoodies. And upon a closer look, you hadn’t showered either…

Strange of you to leave his cum inside you...

But thinking back about it, you hadn’t been so distant with him for a while already. You’d been trivial – conversational – even chirpy, if he could call it that.

Was it like Dabi said? Had you reached your breaking point for loneliness, leaving him to be your only resource? Or had you accepted the circumstances and willed yourself to play along?

He didn’t know, but the doubt stormed an upset in his mind as he lifted the covers and laid down next to you. But despite the exhaustion, the lure of sleep still wasn’t enough to make him close his eyes – he was stuck staring at you, mapping out all those qualities that make up your pretty face.

So deep in his studies, he nearly flinched when your eyes fluttered open.

A small smile graced your lips soon after. “You’re back…” You murmured, eyes softly blinking at him before you scooched closer – shimmying yourself over to him until you were all the way up against his chest, nuzzling your head against his collar with sleepy sounds of comfort. Resting there for a blissful moment before purring out a sweet “Good night~”

But he couldn’t sleep that night. Too busy listening to your soft snores – feeling the clingy way you clutched his cotton T-shirt.

He couldn’t bring himself to touch you either. For a long while – it was as though he was… scared almost. Freaked out by your doting – that way you’d hug him when he entered through the door – placing kisses on places he wasn’t used to – his cheek, his forehead, his neck, his knuckles.

Grabbing his sleeve. “Don’t go, Tomura…” You said once when he had his hand on the doorknob and the key halfway twisted in the lock. “Please… don’t leave.”

His throat went tight. It had been like that for a while – ever since that first kiss, actually, he’d been unable to talk to you – unsure what to say.

But you hadn’t the same issue.

“You haven't touched me in a while…” You continued, taking his hand away from the doorknob in both yours, playing with his fingers – bringing it up to your face – you cuddled it like he’d not threatened you with his touch many many many times before. “Are you bored with me?” You asked instead of the obvious, keeping him at a loss for words. “Or… have I scared you away?”

You? Scared him?

Your lips brushed his fingers as one of your hands made a slow descent – making him jerk with a gasp as it went straight to cup his groin – tender yet firm, giving it a squeeze.

“Is there anything I can do to make you stay?” You said coyly, eyes doe-like but kittenish all the same, with a pouty and small smirk playing on your lips before you bit into them – brows cinching, giving him a flirty pleading expression. “Please, Tomura?” You said his name as though it didn’t belong to him. “It gets so lonely here…” You kissed his palm. “Won’t you give me a proper goodbye, at least?”

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inkykeiji · 1 year

Text

anonymous said: what would flawless tomura do if they were at a party and he left reader alone for a few minutes and came back to some guy talking to her?

character: shigaraki tomura

genre: smut

notes: okaaaay so it’s a teeny tiny bit more than just talking to her but ah anon! this ask immediately sparked an idea in my brain and i just had to write it for you! this is set within my flawless AU and it’s pretty much a prequel to part two!

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, daddy kink, semi-public sex, toxic relationships (jealousy, possessiveness), minimal prep, rough sex, noncon nonsexual touching from a stranger, size difference, implied yakuza

words: 4k

Tomura hates these things.

As far as he’s concerned, these overly extravagant ‘work functions’ are nothing more than an excuse for a bunch of bigwigs and hotshots to get together and jerk each other off.

Really, it’s not much different than a college house party; if you take away the opulent venue and the nice clothes and good food, it’s practically the exact same thing.

He hadn’t wanted to bring you, fucking despises the thought of having you in the presence of any of these animals at all—disgusting and crude and primal and dangerous—but Kurogiri had insisted.

It looks good to include her, Tomura, he had said. You know how important these events are to your father.

And he knows how important you are to Tomura. But Tomura supposes that doesn’t matter nearly as much in his father’s eyes, now, does it?

In his mind, you’re just some silly little girl, a shiny new toy for Tomura to play with, to occupy his son’s time until he needs him, until he once again deems him useful. Then it’s expected you’ll be cast aside in favour of the family business, because nothing could ever be more important to Tomura, poor little orphaned Tomura, saved from the clutches of poverty by the Shigarakis, than the family business he’s being groomed to own one day, right?

Wrong.

But his father doesn’t give a fuck about that. He’s right if he says he’s right, end of discussion, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

So you’re here.

You had been cautiously excited to attend, desperate to earn his father’s favour, to prove that you’re worth it, worth all of the time and energy and love Tomura spends on you; that you can belong, if you really try to.

It’s sweet, really, how eager you are to be a part of the family. Impossibly, it makes Tomura love you even more.

Kurogiri’s been bouncing around the banquet hall like an efficient but headless chicken, splitting his time between checking in with guests and keeping a watchful eye on Tomura, since he has a nasty tendency to suddenly and miraculously disappear into thin air at these things.

The corner Tomura has the two of you wedged in is shrouded in shadows and at the back of the room, far from all of the excitement, the chattering voices and chewing teeth. It’s still loud, though, a mess of chaotic and indistinct noise, booming laughter tangled with confident speeches wafting over you in waves, carrying with them the scent of hors d’oeuvres from the self-serve table at the head of the room.

Your tummy growls, nothing more than a gentle rumble beneath Tomura’s palms, and he hugs you tighter, chin hooked over your shoulder as he nuzzles into your neck a little in apology.

“I’ll have Kurogiri grab you some food the next time he makes his rounds, baby, I promise.”

A dainty hand lays atop his own, fingers snuggling between the gaps of his own and resting there.

“Thank you, Daddy,” you murmur, the side of your head knocking against his own.

And, oh, that word.

That special word, nothing more than a sweet huff of breath on your tongue, five little letters that get his blood surging and his chest puffing and his spine straightening.

That one word that summons the true dominant that lays dormant at his core, slept and stomped on by inherent brattiness; that single word that pumps his whole body full of heady authority, muscles swelling with it, tense and gorged on the power it affords him.

But then your tummy grumbles again and Tomura frowns, fingers flexing as they sink into your flesh, holding you closer. Your ankles hook around his calves in response, body melting further into his—giving in, giving over, complete and total control—sagging s little in his lap, and he sighs.

But there’s no way you can get up, no way he can allow you to get up, to go anywhere near the food so meticulously laid out across a long, white table. Because Tomura has already seen the way these mongrels called men have been staring at you, eyes sick and starved as they try to swallow you whole, gazes nipping at your bare legs, tearing at your sweet little dress.

Instinctively, his body curls further around your own, shoulders hunched and chest curved as it molds to your back, almost as if he’s trying to hide you away within himself, within his flesh and bone and soul, far away from those ogling eyes and their gnawing little teeth.

Kurogiri returns not long after, though he is not able to fulfill Tomura’s promise, a slight breathlessness to his tone as he delivers a directive.

“Tomura, your father needs your assistance.”

“What?” Tomura hisses, head whipping to face his handler, eyes narrowed sharply. “With what?”

“There are some people he’d like you to meet,” Kurogiri responds calmly, unfazed.

Tomura’s features pucker, the mere thought sour in his head. “You can tell him to fuck right off, I’m not—”

“Tomura,” Kurogiri cuts him off, stern but not sharp. “Is this appropriate behaviour for a CEO-in-training? These are very important guests—important clients, and it is imperative that you continue to keep our relationship with them in good standing.”

Scarlet eyes dart between you and Kurogiri, settling on the crown of your head, a certain type of woefulness imbuing his features—mouth turned down, eyes drooping slightly, forehead woven with lines of worry.

“She’ll be alright on her own for a second or two,” Kurogiri continues, voice softening. “It’ll only be for a moment, Tomura. Just come say hello.”

“Fine, fuck.”

With the utmost gentleness, Tomura slides you off his lap as he stands, taking your jaw between his palms, bony fingers splayed across your cheeks, so long his middle fingers nearly rest on your temples.

“I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy,” you laugh a little, nudging forward to press a quick peck to his lips. “Promise I’ll survive on my own while you’re gone.”

“You better,” he threatens, cold voice contradicted by the mirth shimmering in his eyes and the love tugging at the corners of his lips. “Be back in a minute or less.”

“Thirty seconds,” you hear him growling to Kurogiri as he stalks off, vying fingers already gouging his own flesh, nails leaving thick divots that pool rapidly with blood in their wake. “Thirty fucking seconds, that’s all they’re getting from me.”

Your eyes trail after him as he weaves through the space, an ache, dull and heavy, settling behind your ribs when you spot the ribbons of crimson adorning his neck, trickling onto his crisp white collar, Kurogiri hastily attempting to dab at them as Tomura viciously swipes at his hands.

The ache throbs, expands and pushes against your ribs as if it’s trying to escape the cage, as if it’s trying to propel you forward, urging you to act, to move, to go be with him.

“Hey,” a voice pulls you from your thoughts, and you startle slightly, gaze snapping towards its owner. “You looked lonely—Like a lost kitten, or something. This your first time at one of these things?”

It’s clearly a lie, you know it is, can see the falsities glimmering in his stretched smile, wide and tense and hungry across his cheeks—there’s no way this man didn’t see you with Tomura only mere seconds ago.

“Uh—”

“I’m Shin,” he continues, eyes obscured by the chandelier lights glinting off his glasses. Even veiled, you can feel it, the man’s slimy gaze gliding up your body, slowly, studiously, and leaving a filmy trail behind it. Your flesh crawls along your bones, feeling wrong, dirty, bare, and you wrap your arms around yourself, hugging your ribs. “Nemoto Shin. I work for a, uh, friend of the Shigarakis.”

“Oh,” you say, dull as your eyes skip across the crowd, feet shifting a little as you lean away, hunting for Tomura in a sea of businessmen.

“Actually, I’m a doctor of sorts.”

Your narrowed gaze drifts back to his, eyebrows knitted slightly.

“Of sorts?”

“A chemist, kind of.”

“Kind of?”

Smirking, he tilts his head to the side as if he finds you fascinating, revealing dark eyes as the light catches on his hair.

“I run clinical trials, collect data, and then revise.”

And it’s the way he says it, voice imbued with a sort of deranged glee that smears his sharp smile wider, as if he takes pleasure in conducting these experiments, that has shivers skittering up your spine, nails digging into your biceps as your arms squeeze your torso.

“On people?”

“Of course.”

“Oh. That’s, uh...”

Your eyes dart around the venue again, expensive silk suits and leather loafers all a blur as you search for an out, a familiar face, someone, anyone.

“You know,” Shin begins conversationally, taking a step closer to you. “You look like you’re about the correct age and height for our newest study.”

Large hands wrap around your own, fast and sudden, and forcefully uncurl your fingers, tugging your arms from around your body and holding them out wide, leaning back on his heels to fully appreciate you.

“In fact, I’d say you’re perfect.”

A discontented whine catches in your throat as you struggle in his grasp, attempting to pull your wrists free, Shin’s grip tightening to near bone-crushing in response.

Yelping, you wrench again, trying harder to jerk yourself away from him. He merely laughs in response, a sound that shoots spikes of ice through your limbs, and yanks your arms open further, tutting his tongue as if your struggle is so adorable, head quirked to the side with an egging smirk.

“What do you say? Want to participate?”

“No, you bastard! Ugh, let go of me!”

“C’mon,” he goads, eyes gleaming with poorly concealed sadism. “I promise it won’t hurt. In fact,” his head dips a little, looking at you over the wire of his spectacles. “You might even enjoy it.”

“She’s good. Thanks, though.”

Tomura’s voice has the man flinching, a jolt of panic surging through his veins and loosening his muscles, your arms dropped from his hands in an instant. He recovers quickly, though, any traces of alarm smoothed out from his expression a second later, features morphed into a perfect mask of professionalism.

“Tomura,” he says with a polite nod, a small but appropriate smile on his face. “You’re looking well.”

Tomura says nothing in response, glaring at him through sharpened eyes, crimson simmering with such anger you swear you can see the heat waves radiating from his sockets. He holds the man’s gaze until, finally, the man looks away with a cower, head hung in submission.

And then Tomura’s turning away with a sneer, catching your hands, busy mauling his biceps in desperation, with ease and wrapping a palm around your arm.

“Fucking vultures,” he’s spitting as he all but drags you from the venue, the fingers cuffed around your wrist tensing. “I leave for, like, a minute and they’re all over you.”

“I—I’m sorry,” you’re whimpering as your free hand winds around his forearm, jogging a little in your haste to keep up with his pace.

“Sorry?” he questions, the word seething on his tongue, as if you’re stupid for even apologizing at all. “It isn’t your fault, princess.”

And even though his voice is still scalding, the look he throws you over his shoulder is soft, stuffed full of love.

“Besides,” he’s continuing as he shoves past the heavy glass doors at the entrance of the hall. “I’m gonna show those fuckers who you belong to.”

The satin toe of your heels catches on the rough concrete, instantly causing it to scuff and fray as Tomura hauls you along behind him, the slap of his trademark red sneakers echoing out among the parking lot with each hasty stomp toward his car.

“Tomura, wait!” you’re calling as you teeter quickly behind him.

But he isn’t listening, your staggering not nearly fast enough for his liking, giving another harsh yank on your arm with such vigour it sends you stumbling right into his back, ankles wobbling a little as you almost trip over your own feet, a little yelp sounding in your throat.

He catches you easily, though, skinny arms wrapping around your form, offering minimal stability as they slam you against the driver’s door of the Bentley, effectively trapping you between the metal and his body.

Knobby knees are parting your legs instantly, sharp as they barge at your inner thighs and force them open, his feet framed by your own.

His hips slot up against yours, bones defined and protruding as they press into your supple flesh, his cock already half-hard.

And, God, you’ll never tire of how easily he gets hard, just the thought of your cunt enough to send a rush of boiling blood to the apex of his thighs, to fill his cock, a girlish giggle bubbling past your lips.

“Something funny?” he’s asking as large hands cup your jaw, fingers curling around the hinges and dragging your face upward, prohibiting you from answering as he all but smashes his lips to yours, keen tongue prying through your lips to lick at your teeth.

It’s messy and enthusiastic, just like kissing Tomura always is, smears of drool glistening across your chin and dripping off your jaws in fat, sticky globs to cool in little puddles on your collarbones, dribbling steadily from the corners of your lips as they move and mash and mesh.

His hands work in tandem with his mouth, large palms sliding up your thighs and beneath your dress, hem pooling around his wrists as he reaches your pretty pink panties, revealing your bare legs to the throngs of men clustered around the gilded doors, leering at you through hazy clouds of cigar smoke.

A squeak of his name is pushed from your tongue onto his, muddled and weighted with spit, eyes popping open as vying fingers begin to twist and tear through dainty lace, elastic band snapping audibly against your waist a moment later, leaving a lingering sting in its place.

“Daddy!” you whine as your panties flit to the asphalt in a ruined little heap, legs instinctually trying to snap shut only to be kept wedged open by his hips, a dark chuckle soaking into your skin as his lips glide clumsily from your mouth to your jaw and down the curve of your neck, painting your skin in slick strokes of saliva.

“I’ll buy you more, y’little brat,” he mumbles into your shoulder, teeth sinking into the muscle a moment later and forcing a pitchy cry from your throat, the sound embarrassingly loud, echoing through the parking lot.

His jaw flexes, tenses, burrowing sharp ivory deeper into your flesh until they slice through it, staining his mouth with your blood. His tongue laves over the wound, sops up the oozing blood like it’s sugary syrup tinged with copper, and seals the bite with spit that turns frigid the moment his mouth is gone.

A large hand squeezes your thigh, fingertips dipping into plush skin as they hoist your leg up, hooking it over his hip. You can feel his clothed cock, prodding your bare hole as he ruts unevenly against you, premature little thrusts that he can’t quite seem to quell.

A collection of baritone murmurs draws your attention back to the men, tendrils of smoke coiling in the air as they watch the scene in front of them unfold, exhaling little chuckles and comments among themselves, eyes never straying from your bodies.

It all feels so fucking grimy, their gazes sludgy as they creep across your frame, thick like glue as Tomura’s free hand traces up the curves of your torso to knead your breast much too hard, eliciting a low whistle and a smattering of claps.

“Daddy, Daddy, they’re looking,” you whimper, casting another quick glance at the men and wincing when your eyes connect with theirs.

“Let them look.”

“Tomura!”

“I want them to look,” he growls, a sort of petulant possessiveness bleeding into his tone. “I want them to see who you fucking belong to, I want them to see what they can’t touch, I want them to see who it is that makes you cry and scream and cum. ”

“No, Daddy, please,” little fingers curl in the cashmere of his dress shirt, attempting to use his body as a shield. “Not here, not like this, not all out in the open—”

“Oh, come on, don’t be such a baby.”

“No, no, no,” you’re nearly weeping, head shaking in shuddered little movements.

Panic rips viciously at your chest, rising high in your voice as protests pour from your lips, heated face burrowing into the junction of his neck. You’re pawing at his shirt now, a few of the buttons popping open to reveal milky skin stretched over a prominent collarbone.

“You can do it, angel,” he chides, voice just a hint gentler. “I know you can do it for me.”

A hiccup hitches in your throat, caught painfully on a breath, interrupting your stream of pleads, burning tears leaking from your crunched eyelids and staining his collar with salt.

“Please, please, please,” the word is humid against his neck, exhaled on shaky little gasps, letters disintegrating into droplets of condensation on his scarred skin. “I don’t wanna, please, Daddy, I don’t—”

“All right, Christ,” he’s groaning over your pathetic begging, pivoting your bodies quickly and keeping an arm wrapped around your waist as he rips the drivers door open.

Collapsing heavily behind the wheel, he pulls you down with him, hands rough and cumbersome as they try to rearrange your body into straddling him.

It’s cramped, one knee digging into the centre console while the other leg bends, foot planted on the leather of the seat.

“Get my fucking cock out,” he’s spitting at you the moment the door shuts, hips pushing upwards in emphasis. “I can’t fucking wait any longer.”

You’re obeying in an instant, dainty fingers clawing at the buckle of his belt, leather cracking as you yank it free from the prong. Then he’s lifting his hips again, aiding you as your fingers hook in the waistband of his briefs and tug, pulling his trousers down with them.

His thighs spread instinctively, elastic and cotton cutting into thin muscle.

“C’mon, c’mon,” he’s muttering as his palms wrap around your hips again, dragging you towards him to hover over his swollen, leaking cock. A hand grips the base, holding it steady as he lines it up with your hole, the head bumping against your cunt.

For the breath of a moment, everything is still, your combined panting ragged as it rings throughout the car, dense and tangled. Your forehead knocks against his own, hands clamped over the back of his seat.

And then he’s shoving his cock into you with one quick, sharp thrust upward, a high whine escaping your lips as your face scrunches in pain.

Your cute little hole stings as his cock tears through it, rips you open wide and forces you to take it all, a loud cry spilling from your lips as Tomura holds your hips in place, savouring the way you spasm around him, desperately trying to adjust to his girth.

The pace is brutal right from the start—not that you’ve come to expect anything less from Tomura—the snapping of his hips vicious as he pounds into you, sweet little snarls falling from scarred lips with each slam of his cockhead against your cervix.

There’s nothing for you to do but just take what he’s giving you, his grip on your waist blooming tiny blotches of blues and purples in the shape of his fingerprints into your skin as he holds you in place, thighs flexing in time with his powerful thrusts, the soles of his sneakers skidding against the rubber floor mat as he uses his feet for leverage.

It hurts, but Tomura doesn’t care, hips rapid, rabid, ruthless as they piston into you, so rough and hard and fast that it has your entire body shuddering, the thin, sharp heel of your stiletto skidding against white leather, tearing it open.

It hurts, but it’s also so fucking good, choked little wails of his name and his title knotted on your tongue, each one fucked out of you as he bounces you on his cock, easy and effortless like you’re nothing more than his favourite little toy.

And there’s something so hot about it all, something so wicked and disgusting and deliciously depraved about fucking in the middle of a crowded parking lot, open and on display for anyone to see as the sun begins its descent below the horizon, lacking the protective veil the night brings with it.

You can feel their eyes searing into your skin, glaring and gawking, wide and unblinking, the Bentley’s thick windows doing little to lessen the smoldering of their gazes as they roam your body, the Bentley’s bulletproof glass muffling the howls and the whistles.

It sends sick thrills racing through your veins, leaving your blood fizzy and muscles tingling, a loud moan, stuttered by Tomura’s incessant bucking, tumbling from your lips.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s it, baby,” he says, but his voice is hoarse, straining under pleasure, edges of his words breathy, almost whiny in a way, as if he’s begging instead of instructing. “Show them. Show them how pretty my cock makes you.”

“Yes, Daddy, yes, Daddy,” you’re whimpering out, head nodding in tiny, short motions with your words.

And you do—ever the perfect, obedient, good little girl that you are—cumming pathetically quickly, the fast, hard drag of his cockhead over that swollen patch of tissue buried deep inside of you combined with the peeping, prying eyes resulting in your sweet cunt convulsing almost violently around his cock, thighs aching and tense as his title shatters on your tongue.

It’s so much, slick gushing down his shaft to soak into the waistband of his pants, bare thighs slippery with your essence, sick and sticky with each slap against your ass, obscene sounds echoing throughout the car.

“F-Fuck,” he gasps, the curse cracking in his throat, head knocking back against the headrest and face contorting in ecstasy, watching you through lidded eyes and thick black lashes.

His thrusts have turned messy now, rhythm sloppy and irregular as he jackhammers into you almost desperately, clenched teeth bared and on display.

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy—” you’re mewling, grappling little fingers twisting in his damp shirt, nonverbal begging imbued in the motion.

“M’cumming,” he nearly moans, cutting you off before you can even ask for it.

He gives you exactly what you want, a mere two thrusts later, whole body going rigid as his nails gorge themselves on the flesh of your hips, holding you still as his cock pumps you full of thick, hot cum.

And he’s so fucking beautiful, breathtakingly so, so much that it decays your words and kicks them from your chest in frail little huffs.

Sliver tufts of hair have flipped upwards, clumped and curled with salt, tiny dewdrops of sweat collecting on the points, glittering in the waning sunlight. The white of his shirt has turned translucent, sodden and sticking to his juddering ribs, expanding and straining beneath his heavy, laboured breaths, the whole cage starkly defined, shadows outlining all of the curves and contours, bumps and ridges, each bone and every gap.

But then he’s pulling you from your admiration, gangly arms wrapping around your body tightly.

“Mine,” he murmurs as he hugs you to his chest, whole body finally deflating, soaking into your own.

“Yours,” you whisper with a little nod, pressing chaste kisses along his scarred neck. “Yours, forever.”

His. Forever.

He hopes they all understand who you fucking belong to, now, hopes they’ll keep their grubby hands and grimy gazes off of you, now, but should any of them forget—well, neither of you are necessarily opposed to teaching them this lesson again.

#shigaraki tomura smut #shigaraki tomura x reader #bnha smut #shigaraki smut #shigaraki x reader #eee hehe enjoy!!!! it's just something smaaaall but i really enjoyed writing it!

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jp---v · 29 days

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Chapter 420

So close to actual 4/20 and yet so far

Kurogiri dropped them on a tiny rock, in the ocean.

Feels like a place AfO would've sent a younger Tomura for timeout, nothing to Decay except the only thing keepibg him from drowning.

Present Mic has been really stressed recently, and he's taking it out on the reanimated corpse of one of his highschool friends... admittedly said corpse has been a potent source of that stress

"I see tears." "Nuh uh."(he says while crying.) "Not you."

Official age, I don't remember if it's actually been established before or not.

We're not students anymore, we're teachers. This is a student that got lost, let's do our jobs.

Is Oboro gonna poke his face out?

Friendly warp gate aquired.

First stop, status update and reinforcements. Bonus: Civilians giving up extra supplies

Your shirt may be torn into bandages. Don't expect it back, and I hope you have something else to put on

Next stop: Back to the frontline

This poor child cannot get a break can she?

Ectoplasm blames Aizawa's parenting

Eri wants to sing, excuse everyone as they go and cry

Let's hope there's enough energy stored in that shard of her horn to bring back all of his arms. We'll see about whether or not her quirk is permanently damaged

"You can't die until you've heard her sing." Damn right.

Listen, listen Kaminari's already half gone, he might be more of a liability than an asset, and Momo's gotta be running low on reserves after everything she was doing to keep UA in the air

Some of Mineta's grapes didn't grow back

Kouji looks pretty cool with his head all open like that ngl

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #manga spoilers #midoriya izuku #deku #aizawa shouta #eraserhead #yamada hizashi #present mic #eri #kurogiri #shirakumo oboro

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villainsandvictimsalliance · 3 months

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Okay a bit of a sob time:

I think that Kurogiri's first words in the manga are " Have you seen this? He's become a teacher ".

Now, I could be wrong. Just saying that here.

The panel shows Tomura's hand in a newspaper, next to a drink at a bar. I know it's Kurogiri talking because Tomura has his own typography when he speaks to represent his shaky voice. The bubble in the panel is written normally and there's no one else at the bar, except a nomu. If it is Kurogiri, then he is talking about All Might. We know that from the context of the conversation.

His next appearance is when he shows up at UA along with Shigaraki Tomura and all those minor villains. The first to notice the weird mist is (as it could be anyone else) Aizawa. Then something even more curious happens. Of all the people in the room, Kurogiri addresses Aizawa first, calling him by his hero name (Eraser Head).

Here are the panels:

It just hit me that Kurogiri was written right from the beginning as having this weird sort of subtext connection with Aizawa.

When you know the story of Shirakumo Oboro, when you know what it all means, it's painful to look back at those moments.

" Have you seen this? He's becomes a teacher... " now sounds like he is talking about two different people at the same time. The way Aizawa and Kurogiri acknowledge each other first, without knowing. Look at the panel where the mist starts to form at the USJ:

Aizawa looks so young. So like the Shouta that Oboro was used to. The panel is almost nostalgic.

To be honest, it's only a sob time 'cause it makes me sad to think that after so many years, they are still drawn to each other like that. Unconsciously. I wonder if a part of them knew, back then. A tiny, hidden part. To die and come back, to see the one that gave you so much and made you who you are die and come back, to find each other in a sort of another lifetime yet the same one.

To be the first to turn to him. For his name to be the first thing you call when you arrive...

#bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #league of villains #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #lov #aizawa shouta #aizawa shota #Kurogiri #shirakumo oboro #eraser head

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greenhappyseed · 29 days

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Why are people criticizing Present Mic in MHA 420? From Mic’s perspective, Kurogiri woke up at AFO’s command (via the hand that Spinner held against his face), despite Mic’s prayers that Shirakumo would show up and be a hero with him. Kurogiri warped to help Toga unleash Sad Girl’s Parade, and then to UA to bring the Twice clone army into the battle. The Twices severely injured Monoma and split him from Aizawa, so Shigaraki was released from the Erasure holding him back. Mic also saw the Twices nearly bring down floating UA and knock Aizawa off the building.

As far as Mic knows, all is lost because his appeal to the magic of friendship failed. Finally, Kurogiri warps Mic and Aizawa to some random tiny island in the middle of the ocean with no comms and no means of survival if Kurogiri doesn’t wake up. Sure, Mic and Aizawa didn’t fall to their deaths, but what does it matter when they’re going to die on this island, AFO is winning, and their students are injured and maybe dying? By shonen logic, that warrants a few DJ punches.

The irony is that “rational” Aizawa is the one who spots Shirakumo’s emotions. Aizawa defies logic and puts trust in Shirakumo one more time, looking at Kurogiri not as a Nomu or his old friend, but a UA student who needs teachers to guide him to graduation. [Edited to add:] As further evidence that Mic isn’t out of line, Aizawa went to UA and left Mic behind to guard Kurogiri. Mic will both protect their friend AND stand ready to battle the darkness when it comes back for him.

#bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha 420 #mha 420 #shota aizawa #eraserhead #present mic #hizashi yamada

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sorrowfulrosebud · 8 months

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I-incorporating self care into Shiggy’s rules in your dom/sub dynamic 😵‍💫

It was no secret that Shigaraki had no concept of self care. Most of his waking moments were spent at the cruddy bar, often nursing neat whiskey or scotch with the ashes of dead heroes and civilians caked into his clothes. And, of course, the one thing that bothers you most; those damned nails writhing into his neck.

The sound was disgusting; layers of flesh being irately torn away by misdirected frustrations. Thick lines of crimson blood and scab contrasted harshly against his milky, skinny neck. You hated the tiny thin spider webs of blood that trickled down his wrinkles, embedding themselves deep into his skin.

As his dominant, you warned him about the consequences of him scratching his neck. You would give him a warning; then a verbal and then he would be subjected to whichever punishment you saw fit. You knew it would be difficult for him to stop; it was his addiction. It was the only way for him to cease the horrible itch inside him to kill, even if his master greatly encouraged him to do as he wanted. You needed him to take care of himself, even if if meant putting yourself at risk of his childish tantrums.

The faint glow of the bar lights was a sharp contrast to the scene inside. Dabi was leaning nonchalantly against the wall, passing comments about your submissive. The stapled man was bored, and he knew the best way to entertain himself was to stick himself in his boss’s sex life.

“Well damn, handjob. Who knew it took taking it up the ass to get you to shut up for a bit,” he smirked slyly, staples clinking at the action. Shigaraki glowered through Father.

“Shut it, patchwork. At least I get bitches and don’t stink like burnt flesh,” he bit back, hand slowly tightening around his glass. Dabi let out a dry laugh.

“Seems like you’re the only bitch here. What a waste; (Y/N) is far too sexy to be hanging out with a freak like you. I bet if I ask them nicely I can get some playtime,” he grinned, deeply enjoying pissing his boss off.

“You shut your fucking mouth now, and don’t talk about them like that,” he growled protectively. You were All For One’s gift to him; someone to keep him satiated and relaxed whilst AFO could teach him dirty tricks. Although you were a distraction for the young boss, you weren’t a big a distraction to cause trouble or throw a wrench into their plans.

Your rules caused pain and pleasure; AFO’s rules caused progress.

“Heh, I haven’t seen you so emotionally attached to someone, apart from that UA brat you keep tryna kill. I’m bored now anyway, enjoy your cock cage and leather harnesses,” Dabi waved his hand dully, walking away before Shigaraki could at least destroy his new coat.

Shigaraki was seething on the other hand. His chest raised and fell quickly, causing Kurogiri to look at him with slight confusion.

“Stupid fucking patchwork, talking about Mama like that. If he wasn’t integral to my plan, I would fucking kill him!” He glowered, eyes widening in his rage. The whisky glass disintegrated in his hand as he brought his hand up to his neck. It felt like his neck was burning; surely a single scratch would suffice? The thought of a punishment lingered heavily in his mind. He already had his warning, and his verbal. But you weren’t here, just one teeny scratch. Just to make the itching stop…

Kurogiri could only look away; he knew of your relationship and what time you would be back from your mission. It was up to his young boss to follow your rules.

Twenty minutes later and Shigaraki felt better. One teeny scratch turned into two… then 5… then the next thing he knew, he was writhing into his skin like he had fleas. He hadn’t scratched in so long; and now he felt like crying after his Mama’s hard work was ruined.

“Are you alright, young Tomura? Do you need your neck wrapping up?” He questioned, indicating to the blood dripping down his collarbones.

“Yes Tomura, do you?” Your voice cut through the atmosphere as Shigaraki’s head snapped to your frame in the door.

“M-mama, I-,” he starts, already trying to correct his mistake.

“Don’t. Go to the bedroom. Now. I need to speak with Kurogiri for a minute,” you replied coldly. Tomura whimpered, slowly leaving the bar stool and walking to his bedroom. Fuck, he was scared.

You entered the bedroom about 15 minutes later, ignoring Tomura as he perched anxiously on the end of the bed.

“Mama I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he whimpered, trying to tug the sleeve of your shirt. You looked at him with a malicious glare.

“How many times have I warned you about scratching, Tenko?” You asked coldly, grabbing hold of his wrist. His heart beat was elevated, thudding in his ears. His cock was twitching in his trousers, itching to be free.

“T-three times,” he mumbled embarrassedly, milky cheeks growing hot.

“Speak up, boy. Tell me how many times I warned you,” you demanded. Tenko looked you in the eye as he felt embarrassment wrap around his throat.

“Three times, mama,” he whimpered. You let go of his wrist before bending down to his face level.

“And do you remember what would happen if I told you a third time, baby boy?” You asked him, voice deadly quiet and yet Tenko could only hear your dominance.

“I would be punished,” he said nervously. You stood up before extending your hand out. Tenko looked at you before extending his back. Your hand wrapped around his, soft but firm at the same time. You led him to the bathroom, where you opened the medicine cabinet for the first aid kit.

“Sit on the toilet, brat,” you demanded. Tenko whined at the nickname, before shutting up at your harsh glare. He complied quickly, heart still beating quickly.

Red eyes traced your movements as you found the expensive creams, lotions and bandages to fix your baby boy up. Tenko hissed as the disinfectant burned his neck, before silencing himself at your pointed glare. The cotton pad tickled his Adams apple, eyes trained to the ceiling at your feather light touch.

“You have such a beautiful neck, Tenko. It hurts me so much to see you ruin it, because then I can’t mark you as my own. You end up hurting yourself, and put yourself at risk of infection. I knew you wouldn’t stop, so I’ve bought some special toys to hopefully get the message through,” you turned away to wrap a bandage around Tenko’s neck, feeling him gulp around the gauze.

“I warned you, baby. I told you what would happen if you disobeyed me yet again,” you scolded, holding out a pair of nail clippers and a file.

“It was Dabi, he kept on saying stupid things and pissing me off!” Tenko tried to defend himself as you glared at him.

“Tattle-tailing? Really? You’re having this punishment, brat. Understand?”

“Yes mama,” he whimpered as you took hold of his hand. You worked your magic, clipping the longer nails, smoothing and buffing them to just below the skin. You continued on the other hand, touch feather light but still grounding enough for Tenko.

A slightly cold cream was placed on his hands, making him shiver at the texture. You massaged it in expertly, before commanding him to stay seated. Tenko looked at you with slightly fearful eyes. Sensing his fear, you sighed before cupping his cheeks and kissing his forehead.

“I love you very much, Tenko. But, you disobeyed my rules and you must repent. Do you understand me, sweet pea?” You asked him, silently asking for consent. Tenko smoothed out at the affection, wrapping his arms around your midriff.

“I understand mama, I’m sorry,” he murmured into your tummy. You kissed his slightly perspired blue locks as you tap him to release you. You quickly trotted out the bedroom before coming back with a new box and his artists gloves.

“Put your gloves on baby, I can’t have you breaking our new toy,” you purred, a sly grin on your face. Tenko complied easily as you opened the box.

Inside there was a set of black mittens, thick and bulky. Tenko’s face immediately went a bright pink. Next to it lay a thick black collar, a soft black trim on the inside and a loop with a tag on it.

“Now, give me your hands sweetness,” you said, holding a mitten as he extended his hand. You slipped the mitten on, a small shiver going down Tenko’s spine.

“Good boy. And the other,” you rubbed his hand encouragingly. Tenko did so easily, feeling weirded out by the feeling of the mittens on his hands. The thick buckle was tight around his wrist, not so that he would lose circulation but there was no way he would be able to shake them off.

“What’s your colour, sweetpea?” You asked him gently. Tenko thought for a minute.

“Green, mama,” he mumbled shyly. He looked at the collar. Your eyes followed his as you showed him the name of the tag, his cock twitching at the name.

“Mama’s little whore. Fitting, right?” You giggled sultrily. Tenko’s boxers were becoming more and more snug by the second, pre staining his underwear. He fought a whine as you rubbed your thumbs over the protective gauze on his neck.

“If you can’t be a big boy and stop by yourself, you’ll have to do it my way.”

“P-please stop! Mama, it hurts!” Tenko sobbed as you continued spanking his ass. Mittened hands were rendered useless as you had them cuffed behind his back.

“No, that’s not what I asked. How many times have I spanked you?” You hummed as you pulled his hair back to look at him properly.

“F-forgot mama, I’m sorry,” he pathetically snivelled, leaky cock rutting against your legs. His brain was slowly melting into total mush.

“We were at 50, brat, now we have to start again,” you growled into his ear, carmine eyes widening as he struggled in your arms.

“Mama, no please! Hurts, anything else,” he sobbed, mittened hand squirming. Touch was a major part of his sexual preferences; it grounded him and soothed him.

“Such a whiny little slut, aren’t you? Can’t handle the consequences of your actions? Fine then, I know other ways to deal with brats,” you grunted, squeezing and slapping the flesh of Shigaraki’s ass once more.

Tenko’s muffled sobs echoed throughout the room as the steady rhythms of the fuck machine grazed against his G-spot. His cock was spent; 8 orgasms later and the boy was a babbling lunatic.

His mouth was stretched around his black ball gag, garnet eyes crossed and rolled to the back of his head. His nipples were hardened and red from your teasing. Each orgasm, he fought to hold your hand but let out sobs each time his knuckle grazed against the mittens.

“I told you, baby. Don’t scratch your neck.”

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x reader smut #tenko shimura #Shigaraki smut #tomura shigaraki #tomura x reader smut #ugh fucking love loser shiggy #bnha x reader #bnha smut #bnha x reader smut

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jomamaofficial · 10 months

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An Empty Vessel pt.2 (Dabi x Fem!Reader Dark Angst)

A/N: Happy holidays my lovely toes. I am so sorry for this delay, my laptop broke down 😃😃. I urge you all to read the TWs and CWs because I have delved into dark topics. As always, my Ask Box is open for any requests or just a conversation. I absolutely adore all of you, and I want to take this time to thank you guys for your support. Seeing your comments and messages motivates me to write :) <3. Please remember to take care of yourselves, and enjoy. As always, I would love to see your thoughts in the comments :). TW: Vague sexual harassment, substance abuse (weed, alcohol, smoking), death and bleeding. CW: SPOILER: Season 6, Dabi’s backstory, PFL, AFO and Shigiraki plot, swearing, vague mentions of intimate acts. Taglist: @marlenemckinnonsleftfoot @sukunasleftkneecap @istoleyourmanho3 @witherfag Masterlist Edit: Part 3 😼😼 Word Count: 2919. Summary: In the stories Rei used to read him, heroes always won. Reality wasn’t a story though. The villains won the Meta Liberation War after 6 years of fighting. With the death of Pro Hero Endeavour, and the reign of All For One, Dabi could finally leave his past as Touya Todoroki. He no longer had family. But what about the past that haunted him to this day. A family that belonged to Dabi, not Touya? One that escaped unborn?

——————————————————————————————————

Musutafu, Japan– it made international headlines.

The Paranormal Liberation Force finally did it.

The nation observed a minute of silence for the fall of Pro Hero Endeavour.

Musutafu was now all for one. And the entire nation would soon suffer the same fate.

Dabi stretched his neck to the left, stretching his right shoulder as he fought the growing tingles in his body. Chills ran up and down his spine as his eyes followed the tears of rain flooding the dimly-lit road.

He loved how empty this street was: no cars, no news reporters. There were no signs of nagging parents and their brat children, and there were no heroes patrolling the streets, strutting up and down like they owned the place.

It was just him and the soft sound of the rain which seeped into his socks, staining them with the remains of what was now All For One’s headquarter city.

Dabi wished to hear the familiar croak of Tomura’s voice: the back and forth banter, the late-night clicks of the video game console. Back when it was just them, the League of Villains. Tomura, Kurogiri, Toga, Twice, and him. Back when he didn’t ruin everything.

Dabi never told anyone, but there was a tiny part of his soul that withered away when he was near All For One.

Dabi felt small. He was 5’9; he never felt small.

But that thing would always tower over him. His slimy touch was forcefully ingrained into Dabi’s skin— that thing touched him like he owned Dabi.

And Dabi hated the way his mind memorised the way All For One used his crooked fingers to tilt Dabi’s head up to inspect him.

“Oh he’s a little doll isn’t he, Tomura? Where do you find these pretty boys?”

He hated the way All For One laughed after; it was a broken wheeze that rang murder in Dabi’s mind.

He watched as All For One forced Tomura to laugh with him, and Tomura’s apologetic eyes wavered when he looked back at Dabi.

He hated Tomura for laughing that day.

But he hated that laugh much more; the laugh that tainted the fresh air they stood in.

Now, Musutafu’s entire air was tainted by that laugh.

Now… Musutafu belonged to All For One. And Dabi could only hear that broken wheeze.

It would follow him everywhere.

So despite the rain’s destructive nature, Dabi allowed the weeping drops of the sky to fill the emptiness inside of him. The cool drops were better than the air.

Dabi was just an empty vessel. Nowhere to go, no one to go back to.

The Meta Liberation War quenched everyone’s thirst for blood. The dirt was saturated with the blood of heroes and villains alike.

He found it amusing, he really did as he bore his vacant eyes into the rusting ground. Dabi watched as everyone’s blood mixed together under his foot.

He raised his eyebrows, and chuckled.

‘All it took was death for them to stick together’.

Dabi travelled further away from the battle ground, quite deliberate about the steps he took. He counted underneath a shallow breath.

“Fifty-five, fifty-six, fifty-seven,” until he reached the sixty-second step.

His heel pressed against the seeping soil surging scarlet.

And the world was still.

So still and silent that the gentle wind snuck up on the thin man, and he let out a broken gasp as his knees gave out.

The ringing in his ear struck a bitter note. His chest heaved up and down, up and down, and his eyes were blankly fixed on the ground beneath him. Thick, warm blood oozed through the thin cloth that covered his knees.

Enji Todoroki finally died. And Touya Todoroki was responsible for it.

Touya Todoroki, after 7 years of persistent efforts, was officially fatherless.

Finally, it dawned upon him: after 30 long years, Touya Todoroki couldn’t chase him anymore. He could finally find solace in Dabi.

And Dabi was alone. He had no family.

As the joint finally caught up to him, after four or five rookie puffs, the raven man started asking himself what he was doing here.

Surrounded by a group of homeless men who he caught rummaging in the dumpster, they were huddled away into the darkness of a dimly lit alleyway. It smelled like shit, offending his heightened state of smell. Flies picked on the waste scattered below them, their constant buzz creating a monotonous flow.

Dabi peeled his lips open as he felt each individual cell respire on his skin. His heart felt like it was growing inside of him, puncturing his dry lungs, getting louder and faster with each beat.

As a young boy, he saw Enji drink every evening for two years. Dabi used to sneak a sip when he was alone. Dabi was often alone.

He caught Enji with a lit cigarette in his fingers. Dabi stole one and showed it to his friends. Dabi coughed a lot that day.

Enji never touched drugs. He was against it.

Dabi never took drugs; the thought of it never passed him.

“How does it feel kid?”

Dabi’s consciousness was dragged back to reality, the bleak colours of his surroundings painting a vibrant picture.

“I can feel my skin breathing,” he responded, his lower jaw hanging open as he struggled to keep his neck straight.

Howls of laughter echoed in the distance, but the scarred man took no notice.

The joint was held to his lips, and Dabi took another puff.

Dabi wanted to individually itch the surface of his eyes with his nails. It was miserable.

But the ripple of the individual muscles in his cheeks felt so warm and happy when he smiled. That was less miserable.

So he kept on smiling, jaw still gaping. His staples pulled against his grafts, but the molecular traces of marijuana in his bloodstream shielded him from the pain.

Dabi was taken aback– gravity was working exponentially harder against him. A man touched the corner of his lips, the thick and coarse pad of his thumb sending him back, seven years ago.

Oh he’s a little doll isn’t he, Tomura?

“Boy”, the man slurred, “you’re bleeding.”

He shoved his bloodied thumb in Dabi’s face.

Dabi struggled to focus his gaze on the thumb in front of him, switching between double and triple vision.

“Can’t feel it,” he mumbled, his reactions delayed as he scooted away from the stranger.

“Everything’s breathing except these.”

Dabi was mesmerised by the feeling of his grafts against the pads of his fingers. It restored the faint twinkle in his hollow eyes.

“Why are you all fucked up everywhere, boy?”

It took a few moments to register, but Dabi did respond.

“Useless mom, dick dad.”

A unison of delayed ahhhs followed, and Dabi began to feel a knocking pressure trapped in the inner corners of his wide eyes.

“I was never his first choice,” Dabi chuckled. He wasn’t sure if they could hear him. They sure as hell couldn’t understand him, but he was fine with that.

“I was his first born son. No fuckin’ use. Dropped me like I was a waste of time and money.”

The offensive smell of the blunt dug him further away from reality. Dabi was content with his own company.

It would always be just him, forever and always. Because after everyone leaves, you’re left with yourself– your only support.

The more he delved into his loneliness, the louder he heard his skin breathe, it was deafening. And so the silence on his graft became even louder.

For a man who was considered dead all his life, Dabi wasn’t used to his living body. Senses upon senses, he was bombarded with the constant reminder that he was still alive. Even his dead, unresponsive skin felt alive. Because it was the absence of feeling that felt different.

Many people would describe euphoria as extreme feelings of bliss and joy. It was this boxed definition that led Dabi to believe that he could never feel euphoria. But in this moment, whilst Dabi sunk deeper into his conscience– his doubts finally quiet, time finally stopped.

And his body finally let go.

The familiar bud of the joint met his mouth again, and he inhaled the noxious fumes until he smoked his fears away into the midst of the neverending clouds in the night sky. The full moon gleamed down on his pale skin, bathing his grafts in a lunar embrace.

Unlike the sun, which beat its scorching rays on his sensitive skin, the moon shyly kissed it, leaving trails of beautiful markings that soothed his aches.

Dabi’s heart was working overtime. Blood rushed to his scalp, and his body completely shut down. There was one name that his heart called for.

A name that belonged to the past. The moon shyly casted a glow on that face too, but it averted its lunar eyes when Dabi defiled his past, leaving trails of burns that caused her aches.

He was wrong.

Touya Todoroki, after 7 years of persistent efforts, had no family.

But Dabi?

Dabi had a family.

Dabi woke up to blue skies and a gentle sun peeking behind the stained curtains. His body was sprawled on the tiny bed, his limbs spilling out the sides, here and there. He blindly groped for his phone in the midst of thin sheets, switching it on to check the time.

09:23 AM.

He groaned and threw a dark shirt on top of his eyes, blocking the obnoxious sun as he squirmed to find his sleep.

Moments passed and all he could focus on was the neverending tick of the clock in the corridor.

“Fuck it.”

Dabi slipped on some shirt, and put on some shoes, and slammed the door when he left.

09:36 AM.

No wonder he could hear the tick, the corridor was ghost-quiet.

Routinely, Dabi heaved himself over to the bar, scanning the counter for a quick shot.

09:41 AM.

Toga walked inside the lair, her hands hidden inside the cuffs of her cardigan. Dabi nodded at her as he let out a yawn.

“Everyone die or summin’?”

Toga stared at him, her eyes glazed.

Dabi immediately straightened up.

“Wait, did they actua-”

“She’s gone.”

09:49 AM.

Dabi’s jaw tensed up, gripping the shot glass tighter.

“Who’s gon-”

His body was jolted back into the counter, the loud glass shrieking as it fell from his hands.

“Don’t you dare Dabi. Don’t you fucking dare.”

Her eyes were red. Her fist was clenched around the loose cloth that hung on him.

Dabi averted his eyes from Toga, releasing a shallow breath.

Toga’s chest hiccuped underneath her cardigan, and she hid her face into his chest, staining it with stale tears.

“She’s gone,” she repeated, a broken record.

Dabi clasped his arms around her, his hands patting her head.

09:59 AM.

“She left.”

Dabi reached for the flask hidden in his inner pockets. Bony fingers struggled to open it, fine tremors running through his bones.

‘Twenty-one, twenty, nineteen, eighteen…’

Door number eighteen. A few strides away. But the growing feeling of heaviness in Dabi’s feet warned him: it was going to be a marathon.

Countless strangers pointed at the lone man in a tattered, thick jacket. Dabi grasped at the wire fence that separated the long stretches of the park and pavement, muttering something underneath his breath.

The sight of free cars strolling past him caught him off guard every single time. He had no sense of time, no sense of direction.

He was far, far away from Musutafu.

Here, the air felt fresher.

It wouldn’t be long before it was infested either.

But he had to owe All For One some credit.

His reign of terror gave the PLF members a huge leverage when it came to accessing government files.

Dabi flipped through piles of kojin bangō, particularly scanning through documents of 27 year-old mothers, registered births and quirk-hybrids, and a certain family name.

He found everyone’s name, everyone’s identity; no one was safe.

Yet the name his eyes yearned for was nowhere in sight.

Countless days and nights were spent silently begging for a lead. On day 18, Dabi finally left the building, clutching onto a piece of paper close to his heart.

Saira Uchiyama.

Names didn’t match, but it was the only name that he could trace her back to.

Dabi took the final steps up the road, feeling lighter than he had in days.

It was on his right. There was but a sliver of road that separated Dabi and door number eighteen.

His fingers started picking at the ripping cuticles on his nail bed, and the grown man started to track his breaths.

He took a step.

A car honked at him.

“Watch where you’re going!”

Dabi didn’t draw back.

He took another step, and another, and another. One more, maybe two.

He could feel the gravel underneath his boots. Dabi lifted his broken face and a perfect house stared down at him. Pristine brick walls stood proud; the bright toned paint complimented the thriving flora in the yard. It fit in so well with the lines of houses, strong and shielded.

This was someone’s home. Bonsai trees armed the right side of the yard, some trimmed, others growing wild.

There were two floors and a garage; more than enough for a perfect family.

Dabi was stopped by the fence gates that guarded the perimeters. He struggled to get past.

Encrusted in metal, his eyes laid upon the name beside the door.

Engraved in gold letters, it read Uchiyama.

He was a step away from Saira Uchiyama’s front door.

Dabi’s hand reached towards the door handle, but he stopped when he felt the unwelcoming chill of it.

He eyed the doorbell instead. He fisted his hand that was itching to press it.

The drowning noises of children’s laughter bled through his skull from the park that was behind him. The drones of parents buying ice cream, and husbands holding their wives’ hands. This was the type of neighbourhood he was in.

And someone told him. Since when did Dabi develop the need to preserve this?

He was a lone man, half dead. He was disgusting. He couldn’t find her name. Now he was outside some poor woman’s house. Saira Uchiyama. How would she feel seeing a decaying man waiting outside her front door? How would her husband feel if some uninvited scarred freak asked to meet his wife, hands empty?

He felt a thick substance roll past his cheek and drip onto the clean welcome mat.

Dabi pushed his raven locks out of his eyes, biting onto his knuckles as he struggled to maintain a steady breath

His nails moved to pick at the staples underneath his eyes.

He couldn’t do this.

‘I can’t fucking do this.’

Through his bloodied waterline, he looked at the doorbell one more time before turning around.

He couldn’t fucking do this. Dabi didn’t belong here.

He tried to move forwards but his legs were shackled to the pebbly footpath. His rhythmic heart couldn’t let go. His twisted mind forced him to go.

His desperate eyes latched onto the bed of perfect flowers on his right.

Like an open flame, the flowers stole all his attention. Dabi stilled.

Their indigo petals mirrored the deep colour of his dead skin. He was entranced by the bold opening, the beautiful colour bleeding out and reflecting the glimmering hope that built up in his cerulean eyes.

“What’s your favourite flower Dabi?” Toga asked as she played with her blunt knife, running her thumb across the blade.

“Typ’a fucking qustion’s that?”

“God Dabi, don’t you know how to have a civilised conversation with someone. I’m just trying to get to know you better!”

“And asking my favourite flower’s gonna do that?”

“It’s called small talk, Dabi.”

He scoffed, pushing past the young girl to rummage through the cabinets.

From the corner of his eyes, he picked up on her amber eyes intently pressing him for an answer.

“For fucks sake. Fine. I’ll do your little small talk”, he gave in, evoking a small squeal from the blonde.

Dabi considered her question for a minute, pressing his tongue against his cheeks.

“I saw these flowers once,” he gulped. “They were blue, kinda like flames. My flames. I saw ‘em in one’a those gated areas. I guess they were pretty nice.”

Toga pursed her lips and tilted her head to the side as she tried to paint a picture in her head.

“Do you know what they’re called?”

“The fuck would I know? Probably one of those fancy rich flowers grown by fancy rich people,”, he shrugged.

“I’ll ask the newbie, she’ll know what they are.”

“Have fun talkin’ to lil’ miss know-it-all,” he scoffed, happy as Toga skipped away, leaving him alone. Finally.

A week later, Dabi found out what they were called as he was sharing a cigarette on the roof.

“By the way, they’re called Rindou flowers.”

Dabi quirked up an eyebrow, his lips curled in a sneer.

“Those flowers you like, they’re called Rindou.”

Dabi’s ears perked up at the small giggle that followed.

“I guess I could say being ‘miss know-it-all’ isn’t the worst thing, huh?”

Dabi’s chest heaved as he turned around, his pace fast as his hands inched closer to the doorbell.

Ring.

The wind stilled.

He could hear footsteps run down the stairs.

Click.

The handle moved.

The door creaked open.

It was 09:59 AM.

——————————————————————————————————

Keep a look out for Part 3, my angst-loving toes. If you would like me to add you to the taglist, please comment or message me :).

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kaidoslastbraincell · 7 months

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Dabi would burn the whole world to the ground if it meant you got to live; for a world without you is not worth living in at all. (it's a long one sorry not sorry)

readers quirk: healer's breath - you can take the injuries and pain of others for yourself and your body converts it into carbon dioxide to exhale - the more severe the problem, the longer it takes to expelled and that pain is yours until it's all gone..

pairings: dabi x fem!reader

genre: slight angst, fluff (nevermind all angst with a little fluff)

warnings: mild drug use (weed), character death (reader - I'M SO SORRY)

recommended song: gasoline by halsey

_________________________________

You were a normal person. Sure you had a quirk but you weren't a hero or a villain. And Dabi loved the normalcy he could experience whenever he was with you. He wanted to keep it that way...to protect you from the hell that came with being on either side of that coin. To protect the nights spent dancing to soft music in the kitchen of your tiny apartment while dinner cooked. The early mornings spent watching you rush around as your get ready for your shifts at the hospital. For someone so seemingly ordinary...to him...to him you were magnificent in every way.

But he should have known this peace wouldn't last for long. Shigaraki had found out about you and looked into your quirk and now he was interested. There wasn't a healer in the League yet but he wanted there to be. As much as Dabi played by his own rules and wanted to keep the two of you apart, he didn't want to get you killed.

That's how you ended up where you are today. You hadn't wanted to join the League...but with Shigaraki threatening both you and the man you love, you felt you had little choice. Dabi hated every second you were around the rest of the villains. Toga's tendency to crave the blood of people she took a liking to was unnerving. The others were tolerant of you but it was clear they weren't happy you were there any more than the two of you. Kurogiri, Compress and Spinner were a little more welcoming but wary of bringing a civilian into the group. You weren't desensitised to all the violence and it was evidently taking its toll on you. Dabi kept you away as often as he could, taking you back to your apartment and trying to maintain the mundane peace you felt in each other's presence. But he could see the spark slowly leaving your eyes with every mission that spread your quirk too thin. You could take away people's injuries and pain, your body converting them into carbon dioxide for you to exhale. But the more severe the issue, the longer it took for you to expel...and until it was all gone, that pain was yours to bear.

That night, you writhed in agony beside Dabi in the bed you often shared. Magne had received broken ribs during the attack at the training camp, and during a brief confrontation with the green-haired boy, you'd taken some of his pain too (not that the others needed to know that). It had your temperature rising and tears streaming down your face. Dabi felt hopeless, there was nothing he could do but hold you and soothe the ache in your soul with comforting words and gentle touches.

"I could kill him..." he muttered angrily, "I could kill him and we'd be free. We all would."

Your grip on the front of his shirt tightened.

"It's not worth the risk." Your voice came out a strained wheeze.

Later that night, when Dabi had long since fallen asleep, you pried yourself from his arms and curled up in a blanket on your small balcony. A blunt hung loosely from your lips as you played around with your lighter, the cool evening air aiding your high temperature. Taking a drag, you held your breath for a few seconds before sighing the smoke through your nose, some of the pain washing away in the process. You had a long day ahead of you tomorrow. There was no need for you to be there really...but Shigaraki had requested your presence nonetheless. Perhaps as backup? Or maybe just to make the League seem untouchable. What did that crusty bitch have planned?

Morning came; you and Dabi were on your way to the hide-out, your feet dragging with the exhaustion of shouldering so much pain. Your lover's arm settled firmly around your waist, supporting your weight.

"If we're lucky, this won't take long," Dabi muttered from your side.

When you made it to the bar, Bakugo was secured to a chair in the middle of the room, Shigaraki in front of him and the rest of the league behind. You quickly scanned the blonde and upon finding him injury-free, you breathed a sigh of relief.

"How are you feeling, y/n?" Kurogiri asked softly when he saw you.

"I'm fine. It'll pass."

The student's eyes immediately shifted to you, a look of confusion crossing his features. He frowned and you offered a strained smile (one that you hoped would be reassuring).

Shigaraki went on one of his monologues and you tuned out the entire thing, trying to breathe through the pain still plaguing your body. There was some shouting from the boy's part, followed by more talking.

"If we want him to join us, we need to treat him as an equal," the crusty boy grinned.

Dabi expressed his reluctance, then Twice, and eventually, everyone was refusing to be the one to release the chains. With a groan, you stepped out of Dabi's hold and to Shigaraki's side.

"I'll do it. He's just a kid."

As you moved closer to him, he watched you carefully. He didn't sense any kind of threat when you were near.

"Who are you?" he mumbled.

"No one important," you whispered back.

Your desire to remain anonymous was quickly disregarded by the League's leader.

"Allow me to introduce our team's healer," he smirked, "y/n l/n!"

"Healer? Those quirks are extremely rare..." Bakugo growled.

"Would you like a demonstration? I'm sure she'd be more than happy to put your doubts to rest," a maniacal laugh echoed through the room.

Dabi stepped forward, a hand roughly landing on Shigaraki's shoulder. "You know how much strain she's already under after yesterday," he hissed.

The crusty man side-eyed him, bushing his hand off.

"She'll be fine. Spinner, bring me a knife."

Within seconds, a small knife was in Shigaraki's hands, and he was approaching you and Bakugo. He grabbed the boy's arm, keeping one finger away from the skin, and pulled it towards himself.

"Tomura," your voice was low with warning.

"Shut up and do your job."

The knife was dragged along his limb, deep enough to draw a decent amount of blood, and the blonde hissed in pain, trying to pull his arm out of the bruising hold.

"Hold still, wouldn't wanna nic a vein now would we...go ahead y/n."

With a sigh (you'd been doing that a lot lately), your hand replaced Shigaraki's, much more gently than the former had been. With each inhale, Bakugo found his pain lessening, but he saw the way your brow furrowed and tears gathered in the corners of your eyes.

"It's okay," you murmured, "this pain is my burden now."

"Wh-what!?" his eyes widened and from his peripheral, he saw the fire quirk user look away, his eyes sad.

You backed away once the wound had fully healed, your hands shaking vigorously. You turned to Shigaraki, an icy glare taking over your features.

"Happy?"

He clapped his hands, eyes wide. "Extremely. Great job as always!"

Before anyone else could speak, there was a loud knock on the door. Everyone glanced around awkwardly. Dabi stepped closer to you, reaching and gently pulling you behind him. And in seconds, the door was busted open with heroes flooding in. Your boyfriend pushed you back and you stumbled into the arms of none other than the man you loathed the most. All Might had taken hold of Bakugo, pushing him closer to the door, but his eyes met yours frantically. Once the chaos began, you heard his voice, slightly panicked.

"Wait! The girl! You need to save the girl!"

A shiver ran down your spine when you felt cold, dry hands wrapped around your wrist and throat.

(comment for part 2 hehe)

#myposts #kaidoslastbraincell #Mha #My hero academia #Mha x reader #touya todoroki #todoroki touya #Dabi #Touya x reader #Dabi x reader #Dabi angst #Touya todoroki angst

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bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love · 1 year

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

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

Rencontre

Rated Mature 18 + Smut 2100+ words

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"S'il te plaît Shigaraki" you begged.

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

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

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

"Not a single damn one" you hummed.

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

"And you Tomura Shigaraki, are mine"

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki x y/n #shigaraki x french reader #shigaraki fic #shigaraki #tomura x reader #shigaraki x you #shigaraki thirst #tomura shigaraki x reader

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amive2567 · 1 year

Note

idk how to do this todoroki hot chocolate cuddling stuff idk ok its 6 in the morning and I've been up for 30 hours

Ingreadients: Shoto Todoroki x gn!Reader, Toya Todoroki (Dabi) x gn!Reader, Natsuo Todoroki x gn!Reaer, Fuyumi Todoroki x gn!Reader Contains: cute cuddles, mention of spiders, tiny argument, overworking, not really proofread Type of order: hot chocolate (fluff), macarons (headcanonss), bubble tea (request) A/N: You've been up for 30hours?! Jeez I hope you can finaly get some sleep soon. Don't overwork yourself please. Thank you for your request. I didn't know which Todoroki you ment so I wrote something for the whole bunch of siblings. ❤

Shoto Todoroki:

you were just tired and all you wanted to do is to cuddle up with your boyfriend of the couch

tiredly you stepped through the door of your apartment, you undressed your shoes and walked into the kitchen to get yourself something to eat

the shower could be heard and you knew that Shoto was showering right now (obviously)

He must have come home a bit earlier than you

You stood there in the kitchen exhausted, but now you wanted to cook your boyfriend a nice meal

thawed food was not the stuff you wanted to eat right now and delivery food just didn’t suited the situation now you thought

you sorted out all the ingredients for some good old easy fried rice

while you prepared everything and started cooking you boyfriend entered the kitchen

“Welcome home, love.” he hummed and hugged you from behind

he was just as tired as you were

“Hi, honey. How was your day?” you asked, while attempting to hide your tiredness

“Tiring. We only had paperwork and it was boring.” he mumbled and nuzzled his head in the crook in your neck

he became comfortable to physical touch after years of your relationship and everytime he was tired he acted like the touch starved boy he is

“When are you done with cookin? I wanna cuddle.” he mumbled pouting.

“It’s almost done.'' We will eat something and then we can cuddle. I really need some cuddle time right now.”

After the food was finished you ate

After that you changed into your sleep attire and went to bed

“Now is cuddle time.” you announced and Shoto immediately wrapped his arms around you tightly

You could hear his heartbeat and it was just perfectly calming

Your hands massaged his scalp and he sighed relaxed

“You are the most perfect partner. I am so thankful for you.” he whispered into the darkness of the room

your heart swelled with love, but taking and replying to compliments was still hard

“Says you. You make me feel alive, like I can finally be myself again. Thank you for being there after a horrible day.”

The serenity filled the room

He shuffled towards your face and kissed you on the cheek

“My love, we should go to sleep now after this exhausting day.”

You knew him so well you new his cheeks were blushed

“You’re right. Goodnight, I love you.”

“I love you more, love”

Toya/Dabi Todoroki:

The heist went wonderful and all of you went back into your hiding

“Go to sleep, we will discuss our next mission tomorrow.” grumbled Shigaraki

“Sleep well shiggy.” hummed Toga as she walked to her room

The other ones also disappeared and Dabi finally talked to you again

“What the fuck were you thinking? Kurogiri nearly needed to take you to this motherfucker Overhaul.” he tried not to scream, but it was still to loud

“I just protected you.” you shrugged your shoulders and went into your shared room

“You risked getting caught and hurt. The heroes don’t give a damn about our lives. You could have fucking died.” he yelled by now

You felt guilty and you tried to avoid his gaze

He put his fingers under your chin and made you look up to him

“‘m sorry, but I can’t lose you. You’re the first person to make me feel like I am worth something and not a total loser. I just need you, you are my real family.”

You didn’t know what to say or what to think, so you just hugged him

He also wrapped his hands around your waist and kissed your head

“You’re not going to lose me. We live a risky life, but I will stay by your side. Always” you mumbled at his chest

You stayed like this for sometime, but your legs got tired

“Can we lay down, my leg is still hurting?”

He simply nodded and carried you on the slowly crumbling bed

He never interrupted his touch on your body

Even after you fall asleep, he still hugged you

Natsuo Todoroki:

The energies, the coffee and the zero sleep made i hard to concentrated on the book in front of you

The illustrations and letters were just one colorful soup on paper

You stopped reading and walked to the dorm of your boyfriend

Health students were the unlucky ones who had to have classes until afternoon

So you could maybe take a quick nap in his room

BUt as you entered his room he was already there

“Had a good day, babe?” he asked you as you entered

You just shook your head and instantly set on his lap

“Sweety, you should really take more care of yourself. Drinking coffee and energys doesn’t help you with studying.”

he stroked your back soothingly

“I am just so stressed. Everybody has good grades and I am just passing. I want to be better.”

“But you’re destroying yourself. The grates of the others don’t matter as long as you are healthy it’s alright. Passing is pretty great in college. You are such a smart person. Besides that (your major) is a pretty hard subject, you will be fine.”

You hummed in disbelief, but didn’t wanted to argue, since Natsuo always had his way to cheer you up

He would be a great doctor in the future

He hugged you tighter and hummed a song to you

With every second you grew more tired and you finally drifted off to sleep

Fuyumi Todoroki:

The kids finally were able to go home and Fuyumi waved them goodbye

She got her bag and papers and also left the school

You've been waiting a few minutes to pick her up from her work, just like every day

She opened the door of the car and entered it

“Hey, honey. How was your day? Did the kids pay attention?” you asked her with a bright smile

“Hey. They were playing a prank today and put a fake spider into my desk.” she smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes

“Oh no. Nasty children. Are you alright? They didn't meant to scare you that badly I assumed.” You patted her back awkwardly in the small car

“It’s fine. I just want to go home”

you drove off and got her home

Accompanied by a pleasant silence you entered the apartment

“Lets forget about the day and just cuddle on the couch.” you said and walked towards the coll leather sofa

“But what about..” she started, but you silenced her with a kiss. “That can wait. We can do it tomorrow.”

You guided her towards the couch and put a blanket around you two

“Are you comfortable?” you asked and she nodded in response

You held her close and creased through her white hair

“I hate spiders. I was so frightened.”

“I know darling. Tell your students please that they should never pull another prank like that.”

Your grip tightened around her

You just wanted her to finally feel safe

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thehusbandoden · 1 year

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The Twins -Dabi x Reader

Fluff, maybe a teensy bit of angst? | 681 words | First person | unedited per usual, my apologies | there's gonna be a part two cause it'd be too long if not.. idk. I'll post part 2 asap!!

(Edit): To sum it up I just added more to the story. Oh my freaking goodness. I've had a writing block for what seems like forever now. I went to try and write more and came to a blank. I added a teensy bit to a "part 2" and yk what- that'll just have to sum up the thingy thing (I cannot think for the life of me rn). I'm sorry, I'll hopefully be motivated soon.

You and Dabi have a very close, and very steady relationship. That, and being in your prime has you in a baby fever. Due to you and Dabi both being villains, you've never tried, nor even talked about it. Well~ on a mission you find a pair of abandoned twins.. and what were you supposed to do?? Leave them?! Nah, you evade pursuing heroes and bring the little angels to the League.

(V/n)- villain name

I huffed as I sprinted towards an abandoned building. Swerving my head around, I dashed inside when I didn't see the heroes that were previously chasing me.

Crouching behind a collapsed structure, I struggled to catch my breath, wondering what to do next. As my breathing evened out I pulled out the cellphone Shigaraki had given me.

About to dial Kurogiri, I stopped as I heard distant cries. Pausing, I identified the cries of a distressed child. Pouting, I ran toward the sound instinctually.

I've been dreaming of kids recently, and being in my prime, plus being in a long, and very close relationship has gotten my mama instincts all riled up. Though, we've never tried due to the both of us being well known villains.

Skidding to a halt, my heart dropped as I met eyes with two small children, both looking around the age of two. They were curled inside a blanket, sitting on a piece of cardboard.

From the little I could see, there was one boy, and one girl. The boy was a little bigger, and had blonde hair, which fell to below his ears, and the girl had jet-black hair to below her shoulders, and pink eyes.

Immediately falling in love, I took a step towards the pair, which brought the boy's attention to me, revealing a matching pair of pink eyes.

"Hi.. where are your parents bubbas?" I ask, hesitantly walking towards them. As the girl watched me, her cries worsened, while the boy's subsided.

"Hey, hey! It's okay!" I soothe, swooping the girl into my arms. At first she freaked out, but after I rocked her back and forth and patted her back she calmed down.

Shifting her into my left arm, I picked up her brother as well. Judging by their sizes and identical appearance, I would guess that they were twins. As the boy settled in my arms, my heart melted as he wrapped his tiny arms around my neck.

Cooing, I stared at the toddlers in awe, already feeling very protective over the two. Just as I started to leave, I mentally cursed as I heard the heroes calling to one another, exclaiming that they heard a child cry where I was assumed to be near.

Sprinting, I made my way back to the bar, twins protectively secured in my arms. "THERE! GET HER!" A hero yelled, making his way toward me. Panicking, I tried to find a place to quickly call Kurogiri. After a few minutes of evading the heroes, I dashed into an empty alleyway, and hid behind a large dumpster.

Setting the boy on my knee, I bounced him up and down to keep him happy as I pulled out the cellphone, quickly dialing Kurogiri.

"(V/n)." Kurogiri greeted, waiting for me to continue. "I- I need a portal.. quickly." After giving him a rough location, he quickly sent a portal my way, telling me exactly where it was and how long he'd keep it up.

Thanking him, I quickly ended the call before picking the boy back up, sneaking out of the alleyway quickly. I jogged as I kept an eye out for the heroes, desperately clinging to walls as I searched for the portal.

After a while of searching, I found it with only a minute or so to spare. Sprinting toward it, my heart sped up as I heard the heroes pursuing me. Jumping into the portal, I sighed as Kurogiri closed it just in time.

"Really (v/n)?" He asked, eyes locked onto the now sobbing twins. "I couldn't just leave them!" I spit, moving toward my shared room while desperately trying to soothe the twins.

As I shut the door, I collapsed onto the bed, gently, petting the toddlers heads while whispering sweet things to them. It wasn't long until they both fell asleep, pitifully clinging onto me as they slept, like they were begging me to stay.

Smiling, I kissed both of their heads before falling asleep as well, imagining how my sweet Dabi would react to the new addition to our tiny family.

I awoke to a familiarly warm hand placed on my exposed shoulder. Blinking my eyes open, I grinned as I saw Dabi, his turquoise eyes focused on the sleeping toddlers that were comfortably cozied up in what he deemed, "his spot".

"(Y/n).. what are these things, and what are they doing here?" Dabi asked, moving his hand down to my thigh, grasping it affectionately.

"Baby.. I found these two little angels on my mission. They were abandoned, lonely, terrified, and most likely starving. I took them back here.. and I really wanna keep em." I beg, pleading eyes bleeding into Dabi's unamused ones.

"(Y/n). We're villains."

"And they don't have a home! Besides, we're already attached so~."

"What are their names?" Dabi sighed, sitting down next to me. "I don't know.. I was gonna have you help me with that."

"Okay.. well what are we supposed to do with em?"

"Umm they're gonna wake up hungry.. so why don't you get some food? Nothing too hard to chew though. We don't want our children to choke." At that, Dabi just gave me a soft smile before going to find some substantial food.

Masterlist | Requesting Rules (requests open and appreciated)

Do not copy, repost, nor plagiarize my work. Ask before you translate or use my work in any way, minus reblogging.

#mha #bnha #my hero academia #mha dabi #dabi #mha x reader #dabi x reader #fluff #mha fluff #dabi fluff #dabi x reader fluff #mha x reader fluff #baby fever

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jaksalot · 1 year

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League of Villains x Child!Reader

fAll Platonic of course

I’m thinking you, reader, were a grown up and a hero at that

That is until you were hit by a villains quirk and were kidnapped and taken to the LOV before the heroes could save you

Having no memories and being helpless Shigaraki thought this was the perfect opportunity to take you down.

But, unfortunately, Toga and Twice stopped him

Saying something about how cute you are

So he spared you, for now

Toga!

Toga’s a terrible babysitter, I don’t know what to tell you

She almost stabbed you on three different occasions to make you not sad anymore

When she isn’t trying to stab you, she’s like a big sister(that has issues)

She’ll often take you to the mall and be called an excellent by sister by the oblivious people around her

She’ll most definitely steal thing from the store

But it’s for you!

She loves to let you play with her knives

She dresses you up in little cardigans and dresses no matter what gender you are

She’ll do your hair too, even though you might hate it, she’ll sit you down and demand to do your hair

She was denied babysitting privileges after the league found you surrounded by knives

If you gave her a deku plushie, or something that even remotely reminded her of Izuku, she’ll love you until the end of the world.

Her hugs are very scary

Mostly because she’ll breath in your ear and tell you how much you mean to her in a very terrifying way

Twice!

Twice is the greatest/worst babysitter on the team

He’ll give you cuddles, and then suddenly decide you’re gross

Will apologize for hours afterwards though

He confused you

A lot

But your tiny child brain can’t help it

He’s gonna steal you away from Toga after he saw you playing with knives

No child is going to lose their finger on his watch

He’s often in the background when you’re playing with Toga, making sure she doesn’t hurt you too badly

He loves you/hates you at the same time

I mean look at how cute you are

But you’re taking all the attention off of him from Toga

Little attention grabber

Will mistakenly give you booze, but then over react when he remembers booze for babies is wrong

Goes all throughout the league trying to find a cure

Atleast until Dabi trips him and tells him to shut up

Twice will take you to the park at night, or just walk you around

If you can’t sleep he’ll probably waste out all of your energy running around, and then you’ll pass out on the way back home

Saved you from being lit on fire or turned into dust many times

Mr Compress!!!

He’d be a very fun guy to be around, and probably is great at entertaining kids

If you can’t sit still long enough to watch his magic show he’ll absolutely teach you

But you can’t teach with those baby rags on your body

Shopping it is!

Will be like Toga and dress you up in a matching uniform with him

Little assistant

You’ll sometimes eat his marbles and give him a heartattack

What if one carried acid and you just injested it????

You’re one of the few that have seen his actual face

Which you hated

He’ll take you to renaissance fairs and perhaps a rodeo or two

Just for fun

Will teach you to steal

But with flash

He’ll turn Dabi or Shigaraki into a marble if they ever try to hurt you

Problem easily solved

You’ll stay in his room for a while

At least until Dabi learns that you’ve been eating marbles and will casually snatch you up one night

Kurogiri!!!

Father of the year award goes to:

He’s very responsible with you, and raises you like he did with Shigaraki

Gives you an ipad and sits you down on the couch

Lets say, just for some reason, you HATE that ipad

Maybe it’s been touched by stinky Tomura

Or you just hate technology as a child

You would get in the way with everyone else

And despite you being a hero you’re still a child

A child that Kurogiri adores

He’d absolutely carry you around and let you rest on a dark cloud pillow he created

Will NOT let you drink anything in the bar

You’ll cry if he’s not right there with you, so he just gives you some applejuice and a book to read

(He’s raising an introvert)

I’d find it funny if he gave you a wine glass and poured applejuice into it and called it “Wine”

He’d bust out a gut from laughing so hard if you acted like a customer

Stealing some money and slamming it down on the counter

He calls you his little shadow and wraps you up in his mist

When you’re playing hide and seek with Toga and Twice he’ll hide you in his mist and when they both give up you’ll jump out

He gets emotional when you call him dad

He’ll take you on walks at night like Twice, and will treat you to little fast food places(eventhough he despises them)

Shigaraki

Crusty Big Brother

Will shove you around

Acts like a little brat

Teaches you terrible things

“Hey kid go decorate Dabi’s room with this endeavor merch I somehow found lying around”

He treats you like shit, but platonically

The more you’re around him, the more he’ll let you play star dew valley with him

You two will just hang out in his room after a big mission

He’ll play league of legends and you’ll play star dew valley

This man will absolutely murder for you though

He’s like a mean big brother that will kill if someone hurts you

You find his quirk very funny and will laugh if he dusts something

You two are a menace to society

Sometimes when the itch gets too bad he’ll cuddle you

He’ll either cuddle or tease you

depends on his status

He got so proud so quickly when you said he was better than All Might

Bro practically crashed when you somehow made a plushie of him

When Kurogiri is busy he’ll just take you to the mall or even a playground to run around in

The king of terrible fast food places

Finally

The one you simps have been waiting for

Dabi!

This man knows his shit about kids

He might be burning himself and have family issues

But he has the most experience

You’re def infatuated with his quirk

You find it so cool!!!

He’ll find it very flattering and will sometimes show you

But it’ll only last for a few seconds

Will tell you stories about things he’s done

don’t be surprised if they’re lies

This man has a tattoo some where I just know it

And when you find it you’ll use markers to color it in

It’ll look terrible, and he’ll be honest with you about that

Play fights

All the time

He got you a shirt that said “Fuck Endeavor”

He calls you shit stain

While you call him “Dab-Dab”

Will take you arson hunting with him

By that I mean that he’ll take you with him when he lights something on fire

After he found out Mr Compress wasn’t stopping you from eating unknown marbles you were snatched with him

He have a tiny little mattress beside his

He’ll wake you up by throwing his blankets on top of you

Will carry you around the league so you don’t get trampled by villains

If someone ever hurts or talks bad about you at the league

Don’t worry

They don’t exist anymore

He’s a good big brother

Just not very good at not murdering people

Thank you for reading! I am always taking requests so pop one in through the asks.

#REBLOG #rose writes #X Reader #x child!reader #MHA #Dabi #shigaraki tomura #toga himiko #Twice mha #mr compress #kurogiri

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villainsandvictimsalliance · 3 months

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These are some of my favorite panels ever.

Aside from Tomura's rook being full of trash and totally ignoring AFO's words, there is something about the body language of the LOV here that calls to me...

Kurogiri looks like he wants to reach for Tomura, but Tomura is shutting them out. He is hugging the hands he uses around him, he has his hood on, hair covering his face, half turned away from them. He looks so tiny, so young in there. He is so like the Tenko that sat alone under a bridge 'cause no one would save him.

The League is bundled in his room after their loss.

Magne is sitting on his desk, facing him on. Next to her, Spinner is sitting on the ground with his back to Tomura. You can notice that no one dares to use Tomura's chair, even when it's right there.

Twice is sitting on a table, body half turned to Tomura. Mr. Compress looks like he is suggesting to wait outside. He must know that Tomura needs space to recover, that he doesn't want to show his vulnerable side. Toga looks at Compress like she's the one who's actually listening to him. If I had to guess, Compress is talking to Kurogiri here and not Tomura, since Tomura is unresponsive.

Dabi is behind Spinner, next to the PC. He stands there unlike Magne and Twice who openly face Tomura and wait to see what happens, unlike Spinner who seems to be processing their defeat and maybe even giving Tomura more privacy— or maybe he doesn't care that much at this point about Tomura and he's more worried about what they're going to do now. Kurogiri and Compress are trying to do something about their situation (talk to Tomura, take the decision to wait outside), but Dabi is way more like Toga here.

Dabi and Toga look a bit lost. Toga has that face she makes when she doesn't know what to make of what's happening in front of her. Meanwhile Dabi has a hand behind his neck, you know that gesture he does when he's thinking/considering how he ended up mixed in a total mess...

There's an intimate quality to it. They all can read what AFO being captured did to Tomura, so why are they hiding in Tomura's room like that? Did AFO send them there with his quirk? They don't look recently landed, which means they chose to sit around and see if Tomura needed them or if he had orders, sure.

They are confused after their first time meeting AFO. They are drained after fighting. They must be thinking really hard about all the information they got in one night, right?

Were they waiting for an explanation? Were they looking at their boss for guidance? The first thing Giran said to Toga and Dabi is that Tomura was young and inexperienced, even childish. It could be a surprise to see him so down, but not a big one when Tomura stormed off after meeting Toga and Dabi.

I can only believe that a part of them decided to stay to see if Tomura needed some comfort. To not leave him alone when he heard the way he screamed that he was not ready yet. When he is there in a corner of his room, when they can see the evidence of the neglect and the obsession, newspapers taped to the walls, investigations all over, books, junk.

Most of them had a stable childhood in a home. Maybe not the best of childhoods, but they can compare. After all they heard and saw...

Idk. It makes me think of how they'd continue to share a room for the rest of their existence, all the time awkwardly sitting next to each other. No one told them they should do that. They just did.

#bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #league of villains #lov

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scary-grace · 6 months

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Love Like Ghosts (Chapter 14) -- 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 Chapter 16

Chapter 14

There’s something wrong with your house, but you knew that when you bought it. Right now, your house, like everybody else’s, is a total mess. Your fence is down, but Keigo’s yard is scorched lifeless, and the front façade of Aizawa’s house looks like a whole construction crew took a wrecking ball to it. You’ve all been fighting with your insurance companies to make them pay to fix the damage, which involves coming up with a reason for the damages that’s not a bunch of ghosts fighting to the death. Weirdly enough, it’s Tomura who comes up with the explanation: A tornado. The insurance companies buy it, given the reports of unexpectedly high winds that swept over your side of town that night. Sort of. Enough that you all get the repair work at least partially paid for.

You can’t skip work, and you don’t want people messing with the house while you’re not there, so Magne comes over to observe the workers from just outside the property line. The other option was Tomura materializing and staying that way for the duration of the repair, and Tomura’s back to conserving power for when you get home. Now that he knows you like hanging out with him, he’s extremely hard to put off.

The repairs aren’t the only new thing in the neighborhood. The neighborhood’s also got three new residents – Natsu, Nemuri, and the Shirakumo-ghost hybrid that’s going variously by Oboro (their human name) and Kurogiri (their name as a ghost). Natsu hangs out in Keigo’s house, while Nemuri and Oboro live with Aizawa and Hizashi. You’ve got no idea how Aizawa and Shinsou cope with being completely outnumbered by ghosts. The original suggestion was for Kurogiri to stay with you and Tomura, but Tomura rejected that at lightning speed, for reasons he wouldn’t share but were apparently clear to every last ghost in the neighborhood. It’s beyond embarrassing, but you’re getting used to it.

What you’re not used to is the feeling you get when you and Tomura hook up, the one that’s pleased with this but wants the rest, too. The two of you haven’t gone all the way, and you’ve been thinking about it more than you’d like to admit. You don’t want to raise the topic with him. In spite of all of Dabi’s taunting the day you first crossed Hizashi, you’re still not sure Tomura knows what sex is, and part of you is still wary about putting ideas in Tomura’s head.

The rest of you is hinting, dropping massive hints that any human would have picked up on weeks ago. Taking off most of your clothes, not just the ones that are in the way of whatever his hands and mouth are trying to do. Wrapping your legs around his waist and grinding against him until his hips are rocking forward to meet yours. Lying back on the couch or the bed or the floor and pulling him on top of you, talking to him just the way he likes, until he comes at the barest hint of your touch.

Today he’s sprawled out between your legs with his head on your shoulder, struggling to catch his breath as his fingers trace idly along your hip. You beat him to the punch this time, making him come first, and now you’re tense and anxious and almost absurdly wet. The light brush of his fingers over your skin isn’t exactly helping. “Come on,” you complain. You lift your hips slightly, in case he’s at all confused. “Don’t tease.”

“I’m not teasing,” Tomura says without lifting his head. “I’m trying not to leave. You don’t like it when I leave too soon.”

He’s right, although you’ve never said as much out loud. “If I can stay longer, we can do more,” Tomura says. His hand shifts from your hip to trace along the back of your thigh, and you startle. “Things we haven’t tried yet.”

Your stomach twists, not entirely with nerves. “Yeah? Like what?”

“You’re the human.” Tomura shifts to one side and his fingers slip between your legs. “You tell me.”

“Um –” You try to think, but now he’s actually teasing you, and it’s hard to think around. It’s also hard to think when you’re running through the list of stuff you’ve already tried and getting wound up in the memories. “There’s fingering, I guess –”

“Isn’t that what I’m doing?”

“Yes,” you say, hating the breathiness in your voice. If Tomura was human, you’d never in a million years suggest what you’re about to. “But I could finger you.”

He lifts his head off your shoulder to give you a strange look. “Where? I don’t have one of these.”

His fingers dip briefly inside you, coming away soaked. You’re dragged temporarily out of the moment when you realize that you’ll have to explain anal to someone who’s never needed to use the bathroom, and you push the thought aside. “I’ll explain when we try it,” you say. Tomura nods and lets his head fall back down to your shoulder. Even though you’ve dodged a bullet, you can’t help what you say next. “I could eat you out, too.”

Tomura’s hips twitch against your leg. He likes that idea, even if he’s got no idea where you’re suggesting putting your mouth. “What else.”

“The shower, I guess. We could do all this in there.” You know Tomura’s fascinated with the shower, which is why he keeps trying to sneak in there with you no matter how many times you kick him out. He shifts against you with more purpose this time, and you realize with a jolt that he’s getting hard again. He might not have a ton of stamina, but his downtime is ridiculously short. “Or we could just have sex.”

“I thought this was sex.”

“It is,” you say. You decided a while back that anything involving an orgasm and another person – or ghost – qualifies as sex. “A lot of things count as sex. But when people say ‘having sex’, they’re usually referring to – ah – one thing in particular.”

Tomura’s still teasing you, mostly, but every so often he presses against your clit with the heel of his hand or slides two fingers inside you, curling them at the perfect angle. Your face is heating up, and it’s getting harder to think. You open your mouth to try to explain further and a little gasp slips out. “A thing we haven’t done yet,” Tomura repeats. You can tell just by his tone of voice that he’s pleased with himself, but he never keeps up with the teasing long once you start losing your composure. “What is it?”

He’s relentless now, somehow never rough, always the right speed and pressure to make your legs shake and your back arch. You taught him well, back when you didn’t know you were teaching him anything at all. You struggle to collect your thoughts, but all you can think of is what Tomura’s doing to you with his fingers. And there’s your explanation. “The same as what you’re doing right now,” you say, “except you use your cock.”

Tomura sits bolt upright and stares at you. You’d regret every word you just said if his fingers weren’t still moving, almost on autopilot, working you up to the edge and over it. Lately he’s gotten into kissing you when he knows you’re close – you think he likes feeling your breath catch – but this time he just stares as spots fill your vision and you gasp for air. “Sex,” he says, and you nod weakly. “Let’s do it now.”

“No.” You sit up and scramble backwards on the bed. “We don’t have time for that right now.”

“It won’t take long,” Tomura says confidently, and you burst out laughing. “What?”

You can’t explain. It’s too funny and you’re too out of breath – and if you don’t get out of bed soon, you’re going to be late. “We’ll talk about it later.”

“You can’t tell me that and then say we can’t do it right now.”

Maybe your timing was a little bad. You only jumped on the first chance you saw because you’ve been trying to figure out how to bring it up for weeks. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Stay.”

“I can’t,” you say regretfully. “It’s Himiko’s party. I have to go.”

Himiko’s birthday was back in August, when you were all on high alert about Garaki. She didn’t really get to celebrate it. Now that the house is fixed and things have died down, her mom’s throwing her a belated birthday party, and everyone on the block’s invited – plus almost everyone from Himiko’s class at school. You’re bad at presents and so is Keigo, so the two of you jointly got Himiko a gift card to her favorite clothing store. Her favorite store’s expensive. It took both of your contributions to get her a card she could use to buy more than a pair of socks.

You manage to make it out of bed without much more complaining from Tomura, although he lurks outside the bathroom door, pouting. “Why do humans celebrate birthdays, anyway? It’s just getting older. Getting older –”

He stops talking, which is what always happens when mortality comes up. “Humans don’t see it like that,” you say. Then you think about how your mom used to react to her birthdays. “Okay, some of us don’t see it like that. And nobody sees it like that when they’re a kid. When you get older, you get more freedom. You can do more of the stuff you want to do. People take you a little more seriously.”

You always looked forward to your birthday. Your parents never made many rules for you, or paid much attention unless you screwed up, but they liked a party as much as the next people. “And you get cake and presents. Most people like that.”

“And everyone has a birthday,” Tomura surmises. “When’s yours?”

“It already happened. Don’t worry about it.”

You change into clean clothes, collect Phantom, and head to the front door. Tomura follows you there, like always. Embodied, like always. He’s almost always embodied when you’re home. “When are you coming back?”

“In an hour or less.” You know Himiko invited the whole neighborhood on purpose, but it’s still going to be mostly middle-schoolers, and you’re not the best with kids. “I’ll drop off the present and say hi and be back.”

Tomura still looks unhappy. “You’d stay longer if I could go.”

“You wouldn’t like it,” you say. “Too many people. Too many ghosts.”

“I don’t know if I like it. I haven’t tried it,” Tomura says. He’s quiet for a second. “I wish I could.”

It used to unsettle you when Tomura said things like that. Now it bothers you. Tomura had the chance to embody himself, to break free of the house without destroying it, and he didn’t. You clip on Phantom’s leash and open the door. “I’ll tell Himiko you said happy birthday.”

“I didn’t say happy birthday,” Tomura says, because Tomura’s an asshole. You raise your eyebrows. “Fine. Tell the brat I said happy birthday.”

“Thank you.” You lean in and kiss him quickly, skittering out of range before he can get too into it. The last thing you need is Tomura’s horniness ruining a thirteen-year-old’s birthday party. “We’ll be back soon.”

You and Phantom don’t have to walk far to get to Himiko’s party – it’s just at her house, in the backyard, and in case you weren’t sure, the pink balloons everywhere would be a giveaway. You’re a little late, as evidenced by Keigo hanging out near the gate, clearly a little antsy. “Dabi went in there ahead of me,” he says. “What took you so long?”

He takes a look at your expression and nods. “Right. Been there.”

“Recently.”

Keigo winces. “Yeah. Recently.”

Dabi’s still a scar wraith, and still pretty much an asshole, but the behavior changes you and Hizashi hammered into him have stuck. He’s being a lot nicer to Keigo, which has resulted in their relationship picking back up, which has resulted in Dabi using every chance he gets to pay back Tomura for all the times Tomura’s put the entire neighborhood in the mood. You’ve managed to convince Tomura that ignoring it makes Dabi look dumber than if he tries to compete, but it took a lot longer than you wanted it to.

Still, you and Keigo are in the same boat. It’s nice not to be alone with it. But something occurs to you as you step through the gate. “Wait, there are people here. How is it safe for Dabi to –”

“He’s been practicing embodying the rest of him,” Keigo says. You glance at him, surprised. “Not permanently. He says he’s never doing that. But sometimes he’s all the way there.”

“That must be weird.”

“Yeah. Weirder when he isn’t.” Keigo stops at the edge of the party, and so do you. “How are you doing with that?”

“With Dabi being embodied? Not my circus, not my clown.”

Keigo snorts. “No,” he says. “With Tomura still being a ghost. When he dealt with Garaki, we all thought he might –”

He trails off, giving you a curious look. You look back, daring him to say it. “Might what?”

Before Keigo can answer, you hear a shriek from somewhere at the center of the crowd of kids in the Bubaigawaras’ enormous backyard. Himiko’s spotted you. She breaks from the group and hurries over. “I’m so glad you’re here! Is that for me?”

“You know it.” Keigo passes over the card. “It’s from me and her. Happy late birthday.”

“Happy late birthday,” you echo. Himiko hugs you. “Tomura says happy birthday too.”

“Really?” Himiko beams. “I wish he could come to the party! Jin’s mom made cake! I bet he’d like cake.”

“I don’t know,” Dabi drawls, strolling up from behind Himiko to sling an arm around Keigo’s shoulders. “Cake’s for humans, and he made his call loud and clear.”

Himiko smacks him. “Don’t be mean,” she instructs. “He could still change his mind.”

“How? It’s not like another asshole’s gonna hop the fence.”

“It’s my birthday. You can’t argue with me,” Himiko says. Dabi sticks his tongue out at her, and she sticks hers out in response. Then she seizes your hand with the hand that’s not holding the birthday card. “Come with me! You have to meet my friends!”

Himiko has a lot of friends. That’s not a surprise – she’s the friendliest ghost on the block other than Eri, and she doesn’t like to take no for an answer. She’s invited her whole class, plus a few from the other class in her year, and she introduces you to one kid after another as her “human girl neighbor”. If her friends think it’s weird, they don’t say so. Most of them are too excited about meeting Phantom to pay attention to you. You get yanked through introductions with almost two dozen kids, until Himiko pulls you around and you find yourself face-to-face with someone familiar.

It’s the last person you expected to see here. Your jaw drops. “Izuku?”

Izuku looks really excited to see you. “Hi!”

“You know her?” Himiko’s eyes widen. “How?”

“My dad’s her boss,” Izuku explains. “I helped out with the – you know, the –”

He lowers his voice. “Ghost stuff.”

“Oh.” Himiko nods knowingly. “That was so spooky! You should have seen it! My humans mostly stayed inside, but my big brother Jin went out to fight. So did Magne’s human, and Hizashi’s – and Tomura’s human, too! We thought Tomura was going to lose until Hizashi told him that the conjurer had –”

“Hey, birthday girl!” Hizashi interrupts. You didn’t see him coming, but you’re not spooked. Lately it seems like he’s been making an effort not to scare you. “Let’s stow it with the shop talk, yeah? You’re among friends right here, but your guests might not want to know.”

“Oh, right!” Himiko looks ever so slightly shifty, and suddenly you’re convinced that at least one of these other kids knows about ghosts. Once Hizashi’s gone, she lowers her voice. “I told Ochako.”

“I told Kacchan by accident,” Izuku says. “It’s okay. No one will believe them.”

There’s something a little unsettling about how cheerfully he says it. Someone calls out for Himiko and she hurries off, leaving you and Izuku standing there. Something occurs to you. “How come you’re in Himiko’s year? I thought you were fifteen.”

“I’m thirteen.” Izuku gives you a curious look. “Why’d you think that?”

Because Izuku was conceived while Mr. Yagi was still a ghost, and Mr. Yagi embodied himself permanently fifteen years ago. But maybe you misheard that. Fifteen and thirteen sound sort of the same. Izuku looks like he’s gearing up for something. You watch him, and he watches you, and finally he bursts out with the question, practically vibrating with excitement. “Can I see Tomura?”

“Why do you want to do that?” you ask blankly. “You’ve met live ones before. You met Nemuri when you got here. And Dabi.”

“I’ve never met one who’s still with their house,” Izuku says. “And never one that strong. Dad says Tomura’s almost as strong as he was before he changed. Can I meet him?”

“Um –” You have a feeling you’ll get in trouble with Mr. Yagi for saying yes, but at the same time, you wonder if it wouldn’t be good for Tomura to talk to somebody who’s not you. “At the end of the party. Before your parents pick you up. We can go over and say hi. From outside the fence.”

“Right,” Izuku says seriously. “Live ghosts that still have their houses are supposed to be really territorial. I don’t want to make him mad.”

“After the party,” you agree. Someone collides with you from behind, and you turn to find Eri. “You okay there?”

“Phantom!” Eri hugs your dog, sneezes, and turns her attention to Izuku, her eyes widening as she looks him over. “You’re like us! A –”

“Eri,” Aizawa says, and she claps her hands over her mouth. He looks to Izuku. “My apologies. You are –”

“Half,” Izuku says. Aizawa’s eyes widen, and Izuku turns his attention to Eri again. “Half ghost. The other half of me is human. Like your human.”

“He’s my Dad! He’s not my human,” Eri corrects. “I’ll show you my human! Toshi –”

Eri takes Izuku on the grand tour of the party, introducing him to every ghost – Magne, Dabi, Atsuhiro, Hizashi, Nemuri again, and even the Nomus, who’ve figured out how to use their human side’s life-force to hide the fact that they’re ghosts from anybody who doesn’t know what to look for. For the ghosts’ part, they’re intrigued by Izuku. Hizashi even remarks that he’s never met a half-ghost before. You don’t get the sense that Izuku spends a lot of time with people like him, because he looks like it’s his birthday instead of Himiko’s. You have a feeling that Mr. Yagi is going to have to pry his kid out of your neighborhood with a crowbar.

With that in mind, you definitely shouldn’t take him to meet Tomura, but he sneaks up on you when you and Phantom are trying to sneak out just a little early. “This is the greatest neighborhood in the world,” he says, out of breath. “Can I meet Tomura now?”

“Not alone,” Aizawa says from somewhere nearby. You glance over your shoulder and find him approaching. “It’s unsafe.”

“I’m not alone. I’m with her.”

“The rules are different for her,” Aizawa says. “If you plan to meet Tomura, I’ll accompany you.”

Izuku doesn’t argue, but he does ask questions as the three of you and Phantom make your way down the sidewalk. “Why am I safer if you come along than if you don’t?”

“Tomura is territorial. Paradoxically, he shows some respect for others’ territory,” Aizawa says. “He views me as belonging to another ghost, and is therefore unlikely to harm me.”

“How do you feel about that?” Izuku asks. Aizawa raises an eyebrow. “The possessive stuff. Like how Eri calls Shinsou her human. Does it bother you? Or you?”

He’s looking at you now. Aizawa actually looks surprised by the question – surprised, and like he’s thinking about it hard. You decide to leave the answer to him. He’s the ghost expert, after all. “I don’t believe it’s meant by them the way it sounds to us,” he says after a while. “Not for all of them, at least. Eri says “my human” the same way she says “my brother”. To her, it’s an expression of affection, not ownership. The same goes for Magne and Himiko, I believe. The possessive isn’t problematic in those cases.”

You hear who he’s leaving out, and so does Izuku. “What about Dabi and Hizashi?”

“Ghosts with that degree of power don’t interact with their environment so much as impose their will upon it,” Aizawa says. “They see everything as belonging to them, if they want it and have the ability to take it. Initially they see their humans the same way, until they realize that they can’t get what they really want from us by exerting their power. It’s a significant perspective shift. It takes time to implement.”

“So they don’t learn until they have to,” Izuku says, and Aizawa nods. Then Izuku looks at you. “Tomura’s powerful now, but he didn’t start out like that. How does he look at it?”

You’re in front of your house now, just outside the gate. “Ask him yourself,” you say, and your front door creaks open.

Tomura materializes slowly as he descends the steps and crosses the yard, not settling into full embodiment until he’s at the gate, on his side of a line he can’t cross. He looks warily at Izuku. “What are you?”

“I’m a half-ghost! My mom is human and my dad was a ghost. He’s embodied now, but he was a ghost still when Mom got pregnant with me.” Izuku gets all the words out in one breath. “I’m more like an embodied ghost than anything else.”

“I’ve never seen an embodied ghost like you before.”

“I’ve never met a live ghost like you, either!” Izuku is beaming. “Is this your house? It’s so old. How does it hold together so well? Do you make it hold together with your powers? I guess you could – Dad said you’re strong, and you’re definitely really strong, but –”

“Stop. You’re making my head hurt.” Tomura holds up one hand and Izuku quiets down. “What do you want?”

“I wanted to meet you,” Izuku says. “My dad told me all about you, and me and your human have been trying to track down your conjurer. I know you probably don’t like people coming near you, or other ghosts, but I thought maybe –”

“Maybe what?”

“We could talk or something,” Izuku says. “You’re the only one left of your conjurer’s ghosts, and I’m the only one of me in the whole country. It can get – weird – to be the only one.”

Maybe you’re projecting, but when Izuku says “weird”, the word you hear is “lonely.” And it wouldn’t surprise you if Izuku felt that way. It wouldn’t surprise you if Tomura felt that way, either, today more than other days – when every other neighborhood ghost is out in the world at a party with their humans, and he’s alone in the same house he’s existed in for a hundred and ten years.

But Tomura wanted it this way. If he didn’t, he could have destroyed the house, or he could have seized the chance offered by Garaki’s death to embody himself permanently. He’d rather be a ghost. This is the price.

Tomura studies Izuku for a long moment. Then he turns and goes back in the house. Izuku looks at you, crestfallen. “He hates me.”

If he hated Izuku, he’d have dematerialized in front of him. You shake your head, and a moment later, Tomura comes back with something tucked under his arm. When you realize what it is, you almost lose your shit laughing. “Do you know how to play this?” Tomura asks, waving the Rainbow Fish matching game at Izuku. Izuku nods eagerly, and the gate swings open. “Sit down.”

Next to you, Aizawa makes a sound you’ve never heard in your life – the world’s wheeziest laughter, muffled a second too late. Tomura doesn’t notice. He’s too busy directing Izuku to set up the cards in a specific grid – only after mixing them together – and then realizing that he won’t be able to reach the cards on the sidewalk. “I’ll help,” you say. “Just tell me which ones to choose.”

Phantom is whining and pulling at her leash, but you can’t let her through the gate without wrecking the game. You lift her over the fence and set her down on the lawn, and she runs off to pee behind one of the few live plants in your front yard. When she comes back, she scrambles into Tomura’s lap, and he takes a break from scanning the cards to cuddle with her. Izuku watches, wide-eyed. An embarrassed flush comes up over Tomura’s face when he realizes he’s got an audience. “What?”

“Most embodied ghosts don’t like animals,” Izuku says. “And most live ghosts see them like batteries. Did your human have to explain about Phantom to you?”

“No,” Tomura scoffs. Phantom licks his chin and he shoves her snout gently away. “I never saw them like that. Either of them. Are you done yet?”

Izuku sets the last cards down. “You can go first. It’s your game.” He watches as Tomura points out two cards for you to flip, then poses another question. “Did you know my dad was a ghost when he came in?”

“Hard to miss him. I had bigger problems,” Tomura says. Izuku takes his turn, coming away without a match. “There were people in the house. We didn’t want them there. I needed to figure out how to make them leave. Without making my human leave.”

“That could be tricky,” Izuku says. Tomura points out two more cards to you, one of the same as before and a new one. “Obviously exerting your influence is the fastest way without materializing, but that could scare your human, too. What did you end up going with?”

“Some guy was smoking on the porch and I stuck my hand through it.”

“Nice.” Izuku flips two cards and collects a match.

Tomura was nice about losing to Eri, but you have a feeling he’s not going to be nice about losing to Izuku. Izuku collects a second match, then misses his next one, but not before revealing a card Tomura’s been looking for. He points it out to you and you pass both cards to him. “My dad says nobody’s lived here except your human,” Izuku says to Tomura. Tomura nods without looking up, totally fixated on choosing his next card. “You sort of got to pick who stayed, right? Why’d you pick her?”

Aizawa clears his throat. “That’s personal, Midoriya. If you don’t spend much time around ghosts, you wouldn’t know, but it’s not polite to ask ghosts how they chose their humans.”

It’s less that it’s not polite to the ghosts and more that the ghosts will explain, at length and in cringeworthy detail. It’s not so bad if you’re asking Eri. It’s downright horrendous if you’re asking Hizashi. “Sorry,” Izuku says to Tomura, shamefaced. “I didn’t know.”

“I didn’t know, either.” Tomura points out two cards to you, one he’s flipped before and one he hasn’t, securing a second match. “You don’t have a human. I can tell.”

“Dad says I’m not old enough to have a human.”

“Two ghosts on this block are younger than you. They’ve got humans.” Tomura’s third turn doesn’t pan out. He sits back, still idly scratching Phantom’s ears. “Do you want one?”

“Eri and Himiko might have embodied themselves as children, but they’ve both existed for longer than Midoriya has,” Aizawa points out as Izuku loses his next turn. “Additionally, human customs are different. The relationships ghosts have to their chosen humans can take a variety of forms – parent and child, sibling to sibling, romantic partners. When humans choose another human it’s typically in the romantic sense, and not until they’re older.”

Tomura looks up from the cards. “How old?”

“Older than Midoriya, certainly.” Aizawa considers it. “Legally, humans can’t marry until they’re eighteen or older, but I believe the average age of marriage is rising.”

You majored in sociology. You know this stuff, or you should. “It’s twenty-six,” you say.

“That’s how old you are,” Tomura says.

You don’t like where this is going. “It’s still your turn.”

Tomura gets two more matches, upping his lead, then turns over a card neither of them has flipped yet and loses the turn to Izuku. He fires off a question of his own. “It makes sense that I don’t know this stuff, since I can’t leave. You’re out there all the time. Why don’t you?”

“There aren’t a lot of ghosts left,” Izuku says. He collects three matches in a row. “Not in this country, anyway. My dad and his master did a really good job getting rid of the bad ones. And the other ones mostly keep a low profile, to be safe.”

Tomura snorts. “Nobody around here keeps a low profile.”

“Including you,” Aizawa says severely. Tomura rolls his eyes. “In your case, however, that’s to our advantage. Dabi represents the larger security threat.”

“Not anymore.” Tomura invariably sounds smug when this comes up. “He couldn’t kill his conjurer, so I did it for him. It was easy.”

You don’t like it when he says that. “He almost got you.”

“No, he didn’t.”

“I was watching. I was right there and I know what I saw.” You glance at Aizawa for help. Izuku’s looking back and forth between the three of you like he’s watching a tennis match. “You saw, too.”

“The same thing happened to Tomura as happened to you,” Aizawa says. Your confusion must show on your face, because he sighs and elaborates. “When you hit Garaki with the fencepost, you didn’t hit him as hard as you could have. Your subconscious checked your swing, because your mental barrier to severely injuring another person is relatively high. In Tomura’s case –”

“I didn’t care about killing him. I already killed the Nomu.”

“In Tomura’s case, it likely wasn’t Garaki himself that gave him pause,” Aizawa says, like Tomura didn’t say a word. “Garaki was drawing on a thousand other ghosts to maintain power. Defeating Garaki meant killing them, too.”

It’s quiet for a second. You hadn’t thought about that. Based on Tomura’s expression, he’s been trying not to think about that. “Maybe that’s why there aren’t very many ghosts,” Izuku says with an impressive degree of tone-deafness. “If lots of them die every time conjurers are killed, then I’m surprised there are any.”

“Most conjurers have less than two dozen ghosts,” Aizawa says. You wonder where he’s getting that statistic from. “Conjurers as strong as Garaki are extremely rare.”

“You know a lot about this stuff,” Izuku marvels. He misses his next match, and Tomura promptly capitalizes on it. “You should write a book.”

“He has. Lots of them,” you say. Most of them are still in your house. “You can borrow them if you want.”

Izuku beams at you, but then a car skids to a stop right in front of your house, tires squealing. All four of you jump, and when you see who’s driving the car, your heart sinks. “I am here to pick you up, Izuku,” Mr. Yagi says. He looks furious. “What on earth is this?”

“Just a game,” Izuku says. “We’re being safe, see? All the cards are on my side and Tomura tells his human which ones he wants to choose.”

Mr. Yagi comes closer, studying the setup. “I came along to prevent trouble,” Aizawa says. “There hasn’t been any.”

Mr. Yagi touches Izuku’s shoulder, and Izuku looks up at him. You wonder if they’re talking. Then Mr. Yagi turns his attention to Tomura. The two of them stare for a moment, sizing each other up. “It’s nice to meet you officially,” Mr. Yagi says.

“No, it isn’t.” Tomura’s voice is flat. “I wouldn’t be here if you did your job.”

“No,” Mr. Yagi admits. You wonder just how long Mr. Yagi and his master worked together for. If Mr. Yagi is old enough to have maybe stopped the conjurer before he bound Tomura, then he must be in his hundreds. “Forgive me. Your suffering should have ended long ago.”

“It’s done now.” Tomura looks down at the cards again. You don’t understand what they’re talking about, and a quick glance at Aizawa and Izuku tells you that you’re not alone. “We’re not done with the game yet.”

“Can we finish it?” Izuku asks. “I still have more questions.”

Mr. Yagi looks a little confused, but he nods. Izuku turns back to the cards, bowing his head to focus on his turn. Tomura does the same. When he tilts his head to the side, you spot something odd on his neck. It takes you a moment to place it, but once you do, a jolt goes down your spine. There are three long scratches on the side of his neck, in the exact same place he always scratches – but on the wrong side from where he was scratching today. You’ve only seen him scratch there once, and it was during the fight with Garaki. These scratch marks aren’t fresh. They’re scabbed. Almost – scarred.

When ghosts dematerialize, they wipe the slate clean. When they materialize again, there’s no physical evidence of whatever happened to them before. Tomura scratches his neck all the time, and you hate seeing the marks show up, but he’s dematerialized and reappeared dozens of times since the fight with Garaki. Those scratch marks were deep enough to bleed, but they should be gone. Long gone. Why are they here?

You want to ask somebody – Mr. Yagi, or Aizawa – but you don’t want Izuku to hear. Instead you stay quiet, turning over the cards Tomura points to, pretending you don’t notice the entire rest of the neighborhood gathering around to watch. About half of them are wearing party hats, and the rest are munching on leftover pieces of cake. None of them but Aizawa have met Mr. Yagi before, and as far as you can tell, reviews are mixed. Eri and Shinsou like him right away, but Himiko’s wary of him. Nemuri keeps her distance, along with Dabi and Natsu. You wonder if any of them met Mr. Yagi when he was still a ghost. What they think of him when they see him now.

Izuku’s game with Tomura ends in a tie, at which point Mr. Yagi insists that they go home. As ambivalent as the neighborhood is about Mr. Yagi, they’re much clearer on how they feel about Izuku. “You’ll come back, right?” Himiko asks. “Me and Shinsou don’t have anyone cool to hang out with but each other.”

Jin, Jin’s younger siblings, and Eri all start to protest, and Hizashi piles on by insisting that he’s still cool even though he’s two hundred years old. Izuku’s eyes are shining. He looks up at Mr. Yagi, and Mr. Yagi sighs. “Very well,” he says. “On one condition. That you don’t –”

“Go in Tomura’s house. I know,” Izuku says. He turns back to Himiko and Shinsou. “I can come back any time.”

Himiko cheers and gives him a hug. Shinsou looks a whole lot less certain about the whole thing now that he knows Izuku will be back. You’re pretty sure you’ve seen that look on your own face a time or two since you moved here.

You manage to speak to Mr. Yagi before he gets in his car. “I’m sorry. I thought it would be okay if we stayed outside the fence.”

“It was okay,” Mr. Yagi says. You blink. “I reacted out of fear, not to the facts of the situation. You made a responsible introduction. How did Tomura react to Izuku initially?”

“He wasn’t sure what Izuku was at first,” you say. Mr. Yagi nods. “But he’s the one who brought the game out.”

Mr. Yagi smiles at that. “I believe I understand how he escaped the fate of his conjurer’s other ghosts,” he says. Nobody else has had a theory yet. You raise your eyebrows. “I did some research of my own. This crop of former ghosts and families is not the first to have lived in this neighborhood. It’s been a haven for former ghosts for almost sixty years. None of them would have dared set foot in that house, but they would have sensed Tomura’s presence, and he would have sensed theirs in return. His isolation wasn’t as complete as the isolation of the others. That’s why he remained somewhat sane.”

Mr. Yagi seems confident in his conclusion, and he does know more about ghosts than you do. But you know more about Tomura than he does, and while Mr. Yagi’s probably right about some of it, you’re not sure it’s that simple. It doesn’t feel that simple, anyway. You’re still turning it over in your head as you step through the gate, shut it behind you, and reenter your house. You also have the sense that you’re forgetting something. You’re not sure what.

You remember what it is a split second before Tomura jumps you, but there’s a world of difference between what he does when he wants to hook up and what he does when he wants something else. This is something else. He wraps himself around you, both feet off the ground, holding on ridiculously tight. His voice is muffled by your hair. “You said you’d be gone an hour,” he complains. “That was longer than an hour.”

“They wouldn’t let me leave early. And it would have been rude.” You stagger back a few steps and lean against the wall. It’s the only way you’ll be able to stay on your feet. “Himiko was thrilled you said happy birthday.”

Tomura makes a discontented noise. “It’s not even her real birthday. Her real birthday’s when she got summoned.”

“When’s your real birthday?”

“Spring.” Tomura shrugs. “I don’t know which day. I just feel it when it goes by.”

“Maybe we should have a birthday party for you,” you say. Tomura makes another discontented noise. But now you’re thinking about just how long Tomura’s been alone in here, and it feeds back into the exchange between he and Mr. Yagi that you didn’t understand. “Is my boss really that old? Old enough to have stopped your conjurer from summoning you?”

“No. Old enough to kill him,” Tomura says. “And me.”

You were with it for a second. Now you’re not. “What?”

“When I killed Garaki, all his ghosts died too. If your boss beat my conjurer when they fought, he’d have gotten rid of me.” Tomura goes still in your arms. “He almost did it. I could feel it. I wanted him to.”

Your stomach lurches. “Don’t say that.”

“I wanted him to.” Tomura’s voice is flat, just like it was when he spoke to Mr. Yagi. “I wanted it to be over. We can’t kill ourselves like humans do. That was my chance. And I lost it because of him.”

“Why?” Your voice comes out in a frail whisper. “Tomura –”

“It was never going to change. I couldn’t take it anymore. Isn’t that why humans do it?” He starts to dematerialize, slipping away from you. “You know what you said. Don’t be stupid.”

“No.” You dig your fingers into the back of his shirt and tighten your grip. You’ve never once been able to hang onto him when he’s trying to dematerialized, but this time, for some reason, he lets you. “I don’t know what it was like to be you, here all by yourself. I don’t know why you let me stay, and I don’t care. But I’m glad Mr. Yagi couldn’t kill your conjurer. I’m glad you were still here when I bought this place.”

“Because you like hanging out with me.”

Because I love you. “Sure,” you say. “Let’s go with that.”

“Prove it.”

Now things are going where you thought they were going at first. It’s a relief. Maybe. “How?”

“If you like hanging out with me that much, you’ll be my pillow for a whole movie.”

Tomura’s developed a thing for sprawling out on top of you and staying there, which would be fine if he wasn’t freezing cold to the touch. If he’s up there longer than half an hour, you get a chill. “Seriously?”

“Maybe two whole movies.” Tomura finally materializes fully again, settling back into your arms. “And you have to carry me to the couch.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you complain, but you shift your weight forward anyway. “Hang on.”

In your experience, guys use Netflix as an excuse to get to the “chill” part of the evening, but once Tomura decides what kind of night it’s going to be, he sticks to it. You end up serving as a pillow for he and Phantom at the same time, meaning that most of you is uncomfortably cold and your feet are uncomfortably warm. The two of you are marathoning sci-fi horror, and Tomura keeps asking questions you don’t know enough science to answer. Finally you just wrestle your phone out of your pocket to look up a question about why space travel in real life doesn’t work like in the movies. But once you get your phone out of your pocket, you see an email notification, and you press it on autopilot. Then you begin to read, your heart racing a little faster on every line.

With his head against your chest, Tomura can hear it. “What?” he asks. “Do gravity drives really work? Are you wrong about that like you were about the tornadoes?”

“Are you ever going to forget about that?”

“No,” Tomura says smugly. He pats impatiently at the back of your hand. “What is it? Let me see.”

“Just an email.” A response to an email you wrote months ago, to the curator of the museum housed in the old asylum where Shigaraki Yoichi died.

It’s a pretty brief email. No apologies for the long response delay, just an answer to your question – yes, the files on Shigaraki Yoichi survived. Yes, they’re extensive. No, they’re too fragile to be photographed or scanned. If you want to read them, the curator says, you have to come to the museum yourself.

Fine. You’ll go yourself. You tap out a quick response to the curator and manage to send it before Tomura lifts the phone out of your hands. He can figure out phone calls, and he could probably grasp texting if you gave him the chance, but email’s a little much for him. He drops the phone back on the coffee table, annoyed. “What did it say?”

“There’s something I need to look into about your conjurer.” You think about how far away the museum is, how many documents there must be for the curator to describe it as “extensive”, how you’re going to have to take notes by hand. This can’t be a day trip. You sit up, jarring Tomura out of his preferred position, and he bitches all the way up. But as unhappy as he is about having to move, you’re about to make him unhappier. “How do you feel about having the house to yourself next weekend?”

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