#yandere shigaraki x reader

[yanderenightmare]

Nasty alpha wolf-boy Shiggy buying virgin bunny reader at a shady auction, taking her home and breeding her silly in all her tight bunny holes<3

BNHA ! THIRST

Shigaraki Tomura x darling

WC: 2.5k

TW: NSFW, captive darling, light bondage, oral giving/receiving, multiple orgasms and overstimulation, hybrid au

Shigaraki doesn’t get along with most other organizations aside from his own, but he could hold a certain respect for this establishment. He felt appreciated here – a valued customer – one with a hungry appetite the vendor saved only the very best herbivores for.

Herbivores like you.

“She was easy to tame- submissive like she was made for it!” The Master said. “A bit too submissive for my taste- but you know what they say about bunnies- cute like a button and just as dumb!”

Your thighs rubbed themselves where you stood in the dark of your blindfold. Bleating and cowering in the chastity belt they’d fixed tight around your lower body – having you sheathed on two thick cocks stretching out both virgin holes – making you drippy – vibrating inside you with purrs tickling your core in thrums he could hear from ten meters away.

“Stuff her in the trunk and take her home if you want- she’s so soft around the edges and pumped with hormones she won’t mind the bumpy road. You could take her right here on the concrete, and all she’d do is just moan!”

He could smell it in the air – how heated you were. Sopping like a braindead whore – he bet you’d been stuck in that chastity belt for hours, as sweaty and trembling as you were. Unstable were you stood in pink pumps soaked full of the slick running down your thighs – only managing to stand thanks to the big bodyguard behind you. He was a beastly fucker, squeezing one of your tits tight in a big bear paw while fisting your leash like a noose in the other, pulling the thick black collar kept snug on your throat only to feel your plush ass rub against his crotch.

The way your arms were cruelly bent behind your back was of no help to your balance either, making your perky tits strut forward. Stiff nipples begging for a suck or a twist or a slap – sculpted a bit by an additional harness shaped like a bra with no filling – just thin black leather lines extenuating that on display.

“My hunters swear she’s a pure little thing, so normally I would demand you pay extra-”

Two black heart-shaped eyepatches had you blindfolded but were kept lenient enough to allow tears to soak through, layered damp on your cheeks and giving a pretty plump bloat to your lips – sucking on the pink ballgag stuffed in your mouth, fastened tight around your head – making all your noises come out wet and even more feeble.

“But she’s yours free of charge if the league handles some business for me~”

Your lop ears drooped sadly down your cheeks, framing your cute face like a picture where your little nose kept wrinkling in terribly adorable sniffles – squealing on what he could tell was another ride over the edge.

“Deal.” He barked shortly, a growl in his throat.

The Master grinned. “Always a pleasure doing business with you, Shigaraki.” Tossing him the keys to the lock on your cunt before snapping his fingers, gesturing for the bodyguard to do the same with the leash – pushing you in a wobbling stumble over to your new owner.

And then he really felt you tremble – soft yet stiff, bracing yourself against him – the smell of utter terror and arousal so thick he found himself drooling just at a single close whiff – all the hair on his tail spiked on strict end as a hunger growled low in his gut.

He felt his pants grow taut and gave a hiss – shoving you on your stomach in a sprawl onto the backseat. Throwing your legs inside before slamming the door shut – putting his fingers to his lips – your slick wet on them, glossy and sweet in his nose like a perfume as he licked them clean while getting in the car.

“Drive.” He muttered in another curt growl, signaling the man to his side to turn the keys as he pawed the straining tent bumping his boxers with yet another hiss.

Huffing, he closed his eyes, listening to you nom on your gag with wet cries and moans – his chest tight and brows furrowed – cursing having said yes to clean up another organization’s mess, and even more frustrated with your scent hanging heavy in the air, making everything spin for him – until finally reaching the base.

“Get out, Binky- welcome to your new home.”

He tugged your collar again soon after the car stopped, and out you shuffled – sweaty and shivering on legs that could barely hold their own weight – supported by the hand he had raked in your hair, pulling and dragging your body out into the cold.

Letting go once you were out of the backseat, he started fisting the leash instead, yanking you forward with heels clicking in no steady rhythm – wonky on the ground where you struggled to keep up with him. Slick between your thighs, rubbing together as you walked.

You were still blindfolded – floppy ears shifty at the sounds of doors opening and slamming shut, along with the threatening cheers of the crowd of villains drinking in the rooms the two of you passed. It’s as though he can hear you praying, hoping that he’s not planning on sharing you with the rest of the fray the way you flinch at the whistles and filthy comments being thrown your way.

You sped up until your tits bumped into his back – walking close with your head bowed to shield yourself.

Splitting a grin, he chuckled out a low snort. He hadn’t thought you’d be so silly to seek his comfort. But dumb as it was, his cock seemed to find it unexpectedly pleasant.

Reaching his room, he fished for his key – hands unsteady, tongue gracing his fangs as he unlocked it before stepping inside. Hauling you behind him into the musty space where he at once pounced on you like a predator who’d finally lost all patience. 

Paws with claws gabbed your tit with a force that made you stumble – almost fall if he hadn’t tugged you back by your leash. His tongue ran wet over the sweet drool dripping down your neck and chin – his canines close to your neck, making you shiver and bleat for him while his hand dropped down to cup your sex. 

Stopping short at the thick feel of latex beneath his fingertips, he growled and shoved you in a toppling wobble until your back hit the soft embrace of the bed behind you. You met it with a bounce and a yelp smothered in your gag – and he followed quickly, crawling on top of you with the key in hand. Carefully caressing the lock on your belt – thinking it would be a shame to destroy it when he could make use of it later. He would need to keep you protected if the way everyone eyed you was any indication. After all, he couldn't expect a base crawling with only carnivores to resist the scent of a herbivore as sweet as you.

He turned the key in the hole and pulled the cruel construction down your thighs, and you gave a whine, hips bucking at the release, quaking at the empty feeling while he eyed the lewd mixture of slick clinging in pretty bridges between the two closing holes and the two glossy rubber cocks still wet and warm with your heat. 

“You make quite a slutty mess for a virgin.” He teased, with two of his coarse fingers dragging up your slick clit – gleeful eyes watching you squirm while releasing a strangled sound caught between a moan and a scream – riddled with overstimulation to the point you were cumming in spasms from only the single little touch.

He only chuckled at the sight. Leaving you to pant and quake beneath him – with shakey breaths anticipating the painful pleasure of his touch once again. 

“Sensitive, scared, horny- tortured by your own fickle hormones and instincts- I know what you want…” He continued, now with the words leaving hot puffs against the slick skin on your thighs. “You want this teensy little rabbit hole destroyed by the big bad wolf….”

Your whimpers were like a symphony – sweet and softly tuned to strum every string in his gut – purring and stirring something sticky and heavy and starving inside of him.

“Look at this pussy….” He groaned with a click of his tongue – his eyes set on the wet puffy little thing between your legs. “So pretty- I could bite it.”

Your back took an arch, jumping from the bed once his hot mouth hit your mound – letting out another uncontrolled moan – heart pounding so loud and savagely in your chest he could feel it pulse on his tongue inside you as he lapped at you like a parched mutt.

His claws dug with greed, plunged deep into the cake of your thighs, locking you around his jaw where he mouthed at your core with eyes rolling back. Every fiber went on a rampage within him, zipping along his limbs and gathering in his gut like one tight-clenched aching fist.

“Mh-fuck-” He took a breath, mouth gaping and dripping with spit and slick before moving upward, sucking kisses into the soft skin of your tummy and soon locking his lips around your nipple – with one hand working your free titty, the other fucked your hole with horny curiosity, delving in the slick with twists and curls and scissoring.

You whined under his touches, quaking on all counts – listening to your hole squelch while your oh-so-sensitive insides clenched down hard from the warm knot coiling in your lower belly, coming so close to that all-over-feeling yet again – shaking your head in fear of it.

“Piss yourself if it helps- I don’t mind-” He growled out low in a whisper, his fangs against your throat now, grazing playfully with rugged breaths hot against your flushed skin. “I won’t stop until I’ve broken in each hole-”

Eyes big and swiveled with tears rippling down your cheeks in rushed rivulets, all the while your pussy made out with his fingers – feeling the fat digits test the flex of your gummy walls – slippery with slick and happily fluttering from his touches. 

You soon caved for the umpteenth time – whole body strangling to suppress the sensation while unsure how much more you could take before going numb.

“Tch- there you go~ good bunny~” He praised in mockery, snickering at your panting – his breath hot on your skin where he moved to hover above your gagged lips – undoing the straps to free your mouth.

“Ah please, m-master- please- no more-” You immediately begged, mouth wet with drool.

“Mh- you’ve got manners…” He moaned, keeping his fingers in your cunt while holding you by the ear in the other hand, gripping it tight and rubbing the thin softness like a lucky charm. Tugging himself out of his pants, messy with pre, he immediately steered the fatness to your mouth. “Open up~”

You took it with a small whine, feeling it push onto your tongue and further in until it hit the back of your throat in a kiss. He gave a groan, feeling your bloated lips wrap around the shaft as you glucked on his length in soft mewls – eyes panning from the view to watch your little titties bounce at the movement, doing small jumps for him as he rammed your sweet face.

He removed your eyepatches – wanting to see your pretty eyes glossy and big for him as you sucked his cock.

The look on your face made his gut rumble – so sweet-looking with your cinched brows and button-nose – eyeing him with cute anxiety, no doubt taking in the scary sight of his red eyes and his pale skin littered with scars.

You coughed cutely when he withdrew, and he bent over to kiss you again, spit stringing between your tongues as his fingers went back to your clitty – rubbing crass circles into it that had you squealing into his mouth.

“Please, master-” You cried, wringing your thighs shut tight around his hand – tears springing from the pity puddles of your eyes as you looked at him with such plead it made his gut roar.

He could only offer a gleeful giggle, spreading your thighs by pulling you snugly around his waist – his cock jumping eagerly above your navel as he bore over you – his breath hot on your face. “Don’t worry, baby bunny, I’ll stuff you up good. Breed you full of a warm creampie in your tight little cunt.” He cooed, fangs sharp and glistening – his paw flat on your belly, rubbing the flesh with want. “Right here~ warm and thick in your little womb~”

You shuddered at the threat, then whined an open-mouthed moan as he sleaved himself inside you. Feeling his every fat vein rub along your walls until his plush head nudged tight against your cervix – making you mewl with an arch in your back, clenching hard around the size of him. Shaking from the toll of it.

He groaned, starting to pound you already – fast and deep, just like a hound rutting. “I’m gonna give you my knot, Bunbun-” He drooled, sucking your cheek with tongue and teeth – red eyes set on your plump and pouty lips – gaping open and begging for more while he continued raving. “Gonna knot you up so tight- make this virgin pussy tremble for me-”

You could only pant, getting run through at such a pace your next orgasm was fucked right out of you. Sweat pilled on your forehead and nose, thighs trembling as you came on his thickness in hot, heaving moans. Throttling his cock for cum – which he soon spilled deep inside you just like he promised – painting your insides with it with balls clenching up, resting snugly against the slick that spilled out.

He was messy when he pulled out again. Glossy and still raging fat as he rolled you over on your stomach – pulling your ass up by your hips while you remained breathless with exhaustion, smudged against the pillowy sheets beneath you.

He laid his meat between your asscheeks, eyes lazily looking over your dewy face and how pretty you looked fucked out on his bed.

“This bunny-hole’s never felt cock either, huh?” He said, voice breathy but eager still – planting his tip at the opening of the taut little entrance before beginning to push.

You moaned out again but could only ball your fists for purchase, still kept in a lock behind your back – tightening them until your knuckles whitened while he crammed himself inside you one stout inch at a time.

“Mmh- fuck, so tight~ it’s gonna feel so fuckin’ good hugging me nice and snug~” He almost whined, getting swallowed down until his pelvis met your ass and the ball of fluff found there – doing a little dance just for him. “Fuck- look at you, little cottontail~” He groaned, leaving himself sunk down to the hilt inside you for a moment of appreciation before beginning to drag out to pound your stomach into a nice mess. “So perfect, I outta take a picture~”

tip-jar: Kofi

#yandere shigaraki #yandere my hero academia #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere shigaraki tomura #yandere shiggy #yandere shigaraki x reader #yandere mha #yandere bnha #shigaraki smut #shigaraki thirst #yandere tomura shigaraki #yandere tomura #tomura smut #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki fanfiction #shigaraki x y/n #shigaraki imagine #shigaraki x you #tomura x you

[eskumii]

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

TITLE: " RENT-A-GF " — navi.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and, so far, all of them are worthless.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"10/10 recommend"

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere bnha #yandere bnha x reader #yandere-bnha #yandere shigaraki #shigaraki x reader #yandere mha #yandere hcs #incel shigaraki #yandere shigaraki x reader

[lesinquietes]

Summary: You talk shit to the wrong person on a discussion forum. Idly, you troll one user who’s really into the Paranormal Liberation Front’s new leader, Tomura Shigaraki. You’ve heard he’s being heralded as the Villain of Villains, though you’re not sure that’s a valid title. You decide it’s time to make your opinion known. “Idk if I’d give him that title… lol he’s giving insecure incel.”

Mean!Yandere!Shigaraki x Bimbo!Reader

⚠️ mdni. degradation. incel. misogyny. noncon. oral. panic attacks. shigaraki is a mean dom. slut-shaming. yandere.

Next l

You snicker as you press enter. Admittedly, you don’t know enough about the white-haired criminal to make that judgement call. You’re basing your statement solely on appearance. What can you say? Making ignorant comments is the essence of shitposting. You get to act a fool online because no one will ever discover who you are.

Until the user you mouthed off to replies.

Crumbleking: the fuck do you know?

Crumbleking: and you think a guy like him wouldn’t get women? he has a fucking army you stupid bitch he can have anyone he wants. that’s not insecure.

You roll your eyes, noticing he didn’t address the incel comment.

(Your username): I literally do not give a fuck lol do you want him @ crumbleking? Seeing as you know so much about his personal life and all

Crumbleking: you should be thankful he hasn’t killed you yet

(Your username): I’m not hearing a no

Crumbleking: get fucked

(Your username): Apparently shig is doing enough of that for both of us lmao

Crumbleking: you’re asking for it

You block the user. How many times has some moron threatened you online? Too many. But you take solace in the fact that, just like you, everyone’s simply a keyboard warrior. At the end of the day, it’s not like any of this shit is serious.

Right? :)

Well, a few days after this incident, you login to your social media account and notice a message in your mailbox. You lift a brow. It’s probably a meme from your best friend. You’re surprised to find a notification next to Requests. Someone you aren’t friends with has messaged you.

Hastily, you tap the Requests tab. You don’t know why your heart is pounding, or why you have a horrid feeling about this. Perhaps you’re under too much stress lately, or perhaps your intuition is trying to tell you something — that you’re in danger.

The request is from someone named Shigaraki. You know it can’t be the real villain. You clue in that it’s likely that freak who was defending him on the forum. He must have determined who you are somehow and resorted to messaging you on your private social.

Shigaraki: hello you dumb slut

Shigaraki: remember me?

Yeah, it’s definitely him. You wonder what his goal is, what he wants from you; normal behaviour doesn’t include stalking. You debate on whether or not to reply. You could play dumb or own up to your role. Of course, it’s far easier to do the former.

You: no?

It’s simple and to-the-point. You see him typing back right away. You hold your breath when he stops. Then, the screenshots from the forum come, reminding you of the conversation.

Shigaraki: i know you’re (username).

You resort to the IP tracker on your laptop, figuring you’ll spook him and he’ll leave you alone. You power it up and click eagerly. When you’re halfway through locating him, it’s as though he’s read your mind.

Shigaraki: if you think I’m not using a vpn then you’re stupider than I thought

The panic really sets in now. You’re hyperventilating. The message shoots you into a panic attack — the kind when your throat constricts and your lungs heave stale air. You scratch at your chest and gasp. You feel like you’re dying. You can’t breathe. With quivering fingers, you type a nasty message to him.

You: what the fuck is wrong with you. why the hell do you care what i think this much???? please leave me alone. blocking you.

That’ll end this terror once and for all. Or will it?

Shigaraki: Don’t you fucking dare you whore

His response is nearly instantaneous.

Shigaraki: if you block me I’ll find you irl

Shigaraki: i just showed you how easy it was to find your social media profile

Shigaraki: i’ll fucking find you

Shigaraki: and we’ll see if you feel the same about me when we’re face to face

You can’t stand it. You press the block button and exit the app. You turn off your phone — as if that’ll help — and throw it onto your bed. You shut down your laptop place it gently atop your desk. That’s enough for tonight. You have to remind yourself that the person threatening you is just a persistent troll, that the Tomura Shigaraki would never waste his precious time bantering with a random person on the Internet. You get to bed using that precise logic.

Except you’re wrong.

A few weeks pass, and you make the foolish mistake of thinking you’re safe. You start to throw caution into the wind, glancing over your shoulder less and walking home from work at night. You don’t notice the pale man trailing you. He watches you at work, as you hustle under pressure, and at home, before you close the curtains. He’s seen you naked twice. He assumes you meant to show off your body to an audience, that you like a bit of exhibitionism. Well, he’ll keep that in mind when he extensively plots out your payback.

Finally, one evening, he strikes. You come home from work and close the door. Securing the locks, you don’t see him until it’s too late.

He wraps a hand around your neck, keeping his pinky lifted to prove a point. He could kill you if he wanted. He could turn you to dust and be done with this stupid shit. In truth, he doesn’t know why he let his anger overtake him to the point where he had to find you. The problem is, he can’t stop his pursuit. If you escaped him right now, he would find you again.

And again.

And again, until he’s able to teach you a fucking lesson.

“Thought you could get away from me, huh?” He rasps next to your ear. “I found your social media account. Didn’t think I’d find your address?” He cackles venomously. “Stupid whore.”

You know immediately who you’re being held captive by. It’s the guy you were talking shit to online. It also happens to be Tomura Shigaraki, in the flesh. You realize, at once, that your luck is positively atrocious. Like, honestly, how the fuck did this happen to you? You can’t make sense if the madness.

He drags his knuckles along your cheek, stroking it. You feel his index finger trace the outline of your lips. Instantly, your heart sinks. On cue, he hums.

“I bet these can suck dick better than they talk shit,” he remarks darkly. “Wanna find out?”

You don’t, but he does.

“Take off your jacket, or I’ll crumble it off with the first two layers of your pretty skin.”

He takes away his hand to allow you space. The way you understand it, if five of his fingers make contact with your body, you’ll begin to fall apart. You’ve seen footage of what he’s done to heroes who have defied him. It causes you to wonder why he’s chosen to torture you, of all people.

The answer lies in his discovery of your social media account. Before he saw what you look like, he was content to merely leave you a little scare. Then, he started diving into your life, going through each and every one of your photos. It turns out you’re quite the socialite. You with your friends. You with your family members. You with animals. Food. Music. Video games. With all these posts, he was granted a perfect snapshot of what it is you do. And now, he wants to watch everything you ever loved decay.

“Why the hell are you doing this?” You hiss, daring to make eye contact tact with your stalker. “Don’t you have better things to do, you fucking freak?”

You spit the last two words with as much vitriol as you can muster. He doesn’t miss the effort you pour into your distaste. He rewards you with a callous cackle.

“Aw, what’s wrong?” He cooes, scarred lips contorting into a smile. “We’re on a first name basis, aren’t we?”

You lick your lips. You can’t recollect if you referred to him by name. Everything is a rapid blur.

“Shig.” He prompts you. “You’re the first and only person that’ll call me that.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks. You didn’t consider it overstepping at the time because you didn’t think you were interacting with Shigaraki. You can see how it might have been construed as intimate in his eyes, given your casual use of the pseudonym. The least you can do is apologize. It won't save your ass, but perhaps it will urge him to go lighter on you.

"I-I'm sorry," you squeak. "T-to be fair, I—“

“To be fair, I should wrap my hand around your throat and watch you beg me for air as your whole body turns to dust.” He interrupts you venomously. “Take off your fucking jacket.”

You unzip the garment and throw it onto your sofa. Next comes your hat and scarf. You finish his request when you’re in only your sweater, pants, socks, and undergarments. He smirks at the result of your swift labour, drinking in your silhouette. He’s seen enough photos of you outdoors to know what lies beneath the rest. Thirst traps, you’d probably call them. Little did you know they’d be used against you one day.

He removes his phone from the back pocket of his jeans. With a languid thumb, he swipes it to life. He logs into his fake social media account and finds yours. It’s bookmarked as a favourite tab, of course, especially considering how many times he’s used your pics to jerk off. If you only knew how many nights his cock twitched, begging to be sheathed in your soft pussy, you’d probably be petrified.

He grins.

“What were you thinking, posting shit like this?”

He twists the screen around for you to see. It’s a photo of you and your bestie in bikinis. Your hair is wet from spending time in the ocean. You and your friend were vacationing at a beach, and you wanted to look your best. Beside her, your lips are coiled around a lollipop, cheeks hollowed out from sucking on it. A thirst trap? Absolutely. But not for him.

He stares at the image one more time before putting the phone away. His crimson orbs lock with yours. A smirk settles across his lips.

“Get on your knees.”

Your eyelids clamp shut. Wordlessly, you lower yourself to the ground. It feels utterly humiliating. You have no choice but to let him use you. There has to be a way out of this situation, but how? If you’re serious about surviving, you have to cook up an escape route.

Shigaraki nears your submissive form. He wishes he brought something to tie you up. You’d look gorgeous bound for him. Helpless and barely willing is how he likes his lovers.

He wasn’t lying when he told you he gets women. Since establishing the Paranormal Liberation Front, people have been throwing themselves at him. They’re attracted to his power. He doesn’t have an interest in any of them, though; there are better things to do, and more enticing partners to find. You fit the bill quite nicely.

He hovers over you, leering at you with his crotch mere centimetres from your face. His jeans smell like laundry detergent — you didn’t expect that. You guess he’s not as crusty as he seems, with his scraggly hair and raspy voice.

Suddenly, he grasps the back of your head with four fingers and pushes your face against his clothed erection. He grinds it along your cheek, twitching in his underwear, yearning to feel the warmth of your slutty mouth. Soon you’ll serve him, but not yet.

“Look what you do to me,” he groans, lulling his head back. “I’ve been waiting for you to fix this problem. Won’t kill you until I’ve had my fill.”

You shiver. You’ve got to get to fuck out of here. If you can distract him, you can jump out of the window and get help. It’s risky, but you don’t have much of a choice.

He releases you and moves to unzip his pants. Your breath hitches. You don’t want this to extend any longer than it has to — not if you can help it. Who knows when he’ll get bored and murder you? He’s unhinged. The time to act is now.

“Wait,” you mumble. “Sh-shirt.”

Shockingly, he lets up for a moment. You take the opportunity to gesture to the garment you’re wearing. It’s your work uniform. Nothing special. He doesn’t have to know that, though.

“Lemme take this off,” you insist. “P-please. I-I don’t wanna ruin in.”

If you remove your shirt, that’ll leave you in merely a bra and pants. Fortunately for you, Shigaraki isn’t a stupid man when it comes to his own satisfaction. He decides to offer you reprieve. Robotically, he steps back to give you space. He’s seen them from afar; he knows they’ll be impressive up close.

“Hurry up.”

He doesn’t anticipate you being a skillful little idiot.

You roll backwards and stumble to your feet. Bolting towards the window, you’re grateful that he didn’t make you strip completely. The hesitation of humiliation and shame might have prevented you from leaping out from the second floor. It’s with luck that you don’t break anything upon hitting the ground.

Shigaraki lunges for your hair a millisecond too late. He catches himself on the window frame. At the same time, you get to your feet and sprint. By the time he reaches the street, panting and growling with fury, you’ve disappeared; there’s not a trace of you left behind.

He suspects you’re off to alert a local hero or police officer. That’s fine. He doesn’t expect them to believe you, and even if they do, how will they protect you? He can feel his power accumulating; moreover, after the impending procedure that’s set to occur in the coming months, he’ll be unstoppable. He doesn’t mind killing those who get in his way.

Thus, with a heavy huff, he lets you go. You obviously want to play, and he’s a master gamer. He knows you want this just as much as he does. After all, didn’t you grasp that he was serious about finding you as many times as you manage to flee from him — that he’ll keep his pursuit steady until you no longer have the strength to run? You must want to be hunted, like pretty prey reserved only for the best.

You have no idea who you’re fucking with.

#minors dni #tw misogyny #tw noncon #shigaraki tomura #yandere shigaraki #yandere tomura shigaraki #yandere shigaraki x reader #tomura x reader #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki smut #afab reader #fem reader #bimbo reader #shigaraki x bimbo reader

[mango-bango-bby]

I read your recent Shigaraki fic (it was such a creative idea 😭💕) and I’ve been stuck on that man ever since. Can I also request a nsfw fic with Shigaraki where he accidentally makes reader squirt ? He definitely had been been trying to make reader do that on purpose for a while but I know he’s not gonna let that happen just once now that he’s figured it out 😅 -🌻

♡ Biggest Fantasy ♡

(A/N: Ok, ok, I think I was to tired and I accidentally misread your request… So I wrote a part two to the other fic, but where he accidentally makes reader squirt☹️☹️ I’m so sorry!! I hope you still like it though, because I actually like this one. But I think I just like anything Shigaraki lol!!

Content Warning ⚠️: Yandere, NSFW, vibrators, smut, fem!reader, slight DUB-CON, squirting, fingering, overstimulation, OOC Tomura

Summary: Tomura accidentally makes you squirt (Yan!Shigaraki x Fem!reader)

Masterlist ➸ ♡

♡↞ Previous

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵���︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Three. Tomura had been counting, you had orgasmed three times since he had started using a game controller as a vibrator. Although he was painfully hard by this point, he wasn’t going to stop anytime soon. He just loves the way you squirmed and tried to escape his grip.

Tomura wrapped an arm around you from moving too much. You reach your arms up behind you to hold onto him, eventually finding your grip in his hair. The non-stop vibrations didn’t stop feeling good despite how long it had been going on.

“You’re shaking” Tomura mumbles, his head resting on your shoulder so he can watch how you quiver. He had already used his quirk to get rid of your pajama shorts, leaving you nearly naked besides a thin, loose, tank top. You don’t respond to him, almost as if you can’t hear him. Although he supposes you can’t, with the overstimulation and the vibrations being at a higher intensity now that the character in the game is closer to a game over.

He thinks for a moment before releasing his grip on you, using his other hand to push his way into you. You were already so wet from the makeshift vibrator, so his fingers just slipped it. Almost as if your cunt was greedy for more.

“Tomura-” you whimper, pulling tighter on his hair. Although it doesn’t seem like he minds to much. In fact you can feel his cock get harder when you do so as it’s against your lower back. “It’s too much!” You whine, turning your head as much as you can to meet his. His face is flushed and his eyes seem wide at how loud you had suddenly become, your moans and whines almost echoing through the small room.

You clench your eyes shut, your already tight grip getting even tighter and the knot in your stomach felt even tighter as you knew you were going to cum. The vibrations jolted through you, every single one bringing you even closer. The feeling of Tomura leaning on you and his breath hitting your skin only intensified it.

“Tomura! ‘M gonna make a mess!” You warn, being unable to control it. Usually, you’d ask if you’re allowed to but you know you won’t be able to control it. Tomura can’t even respond before you squirted. You sobbed as you gushed, covering the controller, the floor, and his hand in the process. You slump into him, almost dazed from how incredible that felt. You don’t come back to reality until Tomura speaks.

“Holy shit…” Tomura mumbles. He had tried relentlessly to see you squirt, he had had wet dreams over the idea. Before he even took you, he would watch porn where the star squirted and imagine it was you squirting. He had tried so many different positions and techniques, he even was going to try sex toys to see that sight. He was so much better than he imagined.

Tomura leans over you, pressing you flat against the floor. He listens to you whimper as he does so. He leans over you, his rock-hard cock pressed again your ass. “That was so fucking hot..” he mutters. Although what was it that made you squirt? Was the vibrations? Was if his fingers? The combination of both? Or was it just a one-time thing?

“Mmmm- Tomura- no more” you sob, although you admit to yourself that the idea of continuing is exciting. You knew he wouldn’t though, after so long of trying to get you to squirt, you knew he would want to see it again.

“I promise you can rest later. You can rest if you squirt for me again”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Thank you for reading, darling!!

#yandere smut #yandere bnha #fem reader #yandere shigaraki x reader #yandere shigaraki smut #yandere shigaraki #yandere!shigaraki #yandere tomura x reader #yandere tomura #yandere!tomura

[novasdarling]

Do you think you could do a yandere Shigaraki that body worships?👉👈

Love your works btw!❤

Of course, though it was kinda hard to make Shigaraki body worshipping his darling. Since he is sort of like a child at times with his lack of maturity and tantrums. So I did him more like when he matures, as I've seen people call it, his post-gremlin era.

Thank you! I'm happy you like them!

So Pretty

TW: Yandere Behavior, Noncon, Kidnapping Implied, Cum, Female Reader, Force used against reader.

Nights were the hardest, it usually meant he would be around. Whether working or playing his games, he was around somewhere. Recently he was typically in the bedroom with you. Always having his eyes on you even if he was busy with something else. He liked to appear behind you when you were doing something you knew he would disapprove of. Somehow, he always knew what you were doing. It only got worse when he was actually in the room. His staring was clear then, you knew he was watching you. Watching your chest rise and fall as you breathed. Analyzing how your feet fidgeted as you read. Shigaraki took in every little detail of you. Letting his eyes run up and down your body. It bothered you and made you feel like he could see through your clothes. Could see your bare body with just a look. Even though he had seen you nude before, this felt different. You were unprepared, unsure of what he was thinking when he simply stared at you from across the room or the doorway. All you could tell was that it was most likely something perverted as usual. Such as undressing you with a look. But after weeks of being with him, of being stuck in his room or the occasional walk through the hideout, you learned to ignore it. 

One thing that never made sense to you with Shigaraki was his intentions, he stared at you like a starved man, yet his hands typically stayed on top of your clothes. His kisses were messy and desperate, but there wasn’t much more to it, to his actions. It was a blessing and a curse. It was amazing he didn’t demand more than what he had already taken, kisses and slight touches you had learned to live with and even enjoy. It was the only human interaction you got and you had learned when he didn’t get his way, Shigaraki tended to throw a tantrum. It was all better to avoid, to let him have his fun.

Today was another day where Shigaraki was watching you, you were reading on the bed with one of the books he gifted you as a thank you for letting him kiss you the first time. It was sick, but sweet in a weird way. You had learned things with him were a give and take. There could be a balance if you worked him right. 

“You look good in those shorts” 

He had finally spoken, letting you know where exactly his mind had gone to. He had taken his time speaking since getting back. Choosing to sit and watch you from his game chair. All he had given you was a simple nod to acknowledge your presence then straight to his game to blow off steam. You knew it wouldn't take long before his game bothered or bored him, choosing to play with you instead.

“I should get you more.” 

“You like them cause they're barely covering anything.” 

It was true, they barely covered your ass, and fit more like boy short underwear than anything. He had brought them back one day, begging you to wear them. At first, you had said no, not wanting to give into his delusions. Not wanting to show your body off so he could enjoy himself. Something you stuck to for a few days until you noticed your clothes missing. Any clothes Shigaraki had let you wear of his, or had gotten you before were now nowhere in sight. After a while, you had no choice, but to give in and wear the new clothes. No matter how disgusted you were when you caught him looking and drooling over the sight.

Shigaraki's smile spread on his face, agreeing with your statement. He was a pervert at heart and you knew that. He tried to hide it at times, but times like this when he smiled and his contestant stare gave away his true nature. You knew he was a ticking time bomb, which is why he surprised you that he hadn't done anything more than touches and kisses yet. 

“I like your legs. They’re so soft.” 

Shigaraki was making his way to you on the bed. Forcing you to abandon your book and focus on him. Placing himself to lay on the bed with you, with his head in your lap. Caressing your legs as he nuzzled into your thighs. He seemed to enjoy laying in your lap while you played with his hair. It was a domestic scene even though he was your captor. Something that softened the truth of your reality. The truth of who Shigaraki was to you.

“I like your legs.” 

You hummed in response, smirking at his remark. He never tried to hide his admiration for your body. From his stares, and his lingered touches, you could tell he wanted something more from you which is what shocked you when he never tried for more. Never pushed for sex even when so easily could.

“So soft and warm.” Shigaraki was nudging his head deeper in-between your legs. Leaving sloppy kisses along your skin. “So soft and nice.” He was moaning at your touch. 

The feeling of your skin was driving him crazy. He was leaving drool along your skin, along with his open-mouthed kisses. Your skin was now wet. He was in heaven, feeling your skin next to his. Laying on you like this. He never could hide his desire for you, even when he refused to act on it more than just touches. There was a sane part to Shigaraki, he knew you didn’t love him like he loved you. Didn’t want him the same way. If he took you now, pushed you further than you allowed, you would go back to the earlier days. Crying and begging him to let you go, to leave you alone. You had come so far and if he had to just hump the bed and you in your sleep to keep you docile. He would. 

“All I could think about was you.” His hips were grinding against the bed now. “And how pretty you are. How good you look.” His hands were gripping your thighs, trying to pull himself closer even when he was already as close as he could get. “You’re so pretty, you look so good.” 

He was becoming a whining mess, humping the bed faster, chasing his own high as he shoved his face into your thighs. Getting closer to your crotch. You could hear him inhale and moan. Enjoying your smell. It was disgusting, how he could enjoy himself so much. His lips against your shorts were worrying. He was closer than usual, closer than he had dared to be before. Attempting to squirm out of his grasp proved futile. Shigaraki simply grabbed you tighter, stopping you from moving. 

“Please-j-just wait. I need t-this.”  

You waited for him to do more. To finally give in to his true intentions and cross your boundaries, but he didn’t. He simply stayed as he was. Humping the bed while groaning into your legs. Leaving kisses in between his praises. Admiring your body, chanting how amazing it is. How you were all his. You couldn't describe how you felt, he was your captor, but here he was. Chanting and panting against your skin. Gripping onto you as he continued to hump the bed. Praising your body, it felt wrong to admit his remarks made you warm inside.

“So p-pretty. So sweet. I love these shorts on you.” He was humping the bed faster, getting closer to his release. “Fuck.” 

Without warning, he suddenly pushed you down. Changing his mind about how he wanted to cum. Laying you on your back while his entire body was on you now. Grinding against your thighs as his hands moved to grope your chest. His head shoved between your neck and shoulder. Drooling and kissing your neck. He was riling himself up, humping you harder as he became more desperate. 

“You feel so good. You pretty laying there. I-I want more.” 

You froze, something you feared the most about Shigaraki was finally going to happen. Your luck had run out. He was going to take you fully and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

“Please, d-don't” 

Shigaraki moved his head, peering up at you. His thrusts slowed down a bit. He looked a bit shocked, after all, you had stopped fighting him lately. Usually, you would agree to what he wanted. A kiss, a touch, whatever he wanted as long as it was within your boundaries. If you made things easier, he would reward you. It was typically worth it in the end, but this? This was too much. You weren't ready. You waited for him to yell, for him to berate you and do what he wanted anyway. But instead, he was silent for so long.

“My patience is growing thin.” 

There it was, the true Shigaraki you knew. Sure he loved to kiss and compliment you, but in the end, it was about him and getting what he wanted. Moments like these ruined the illusion. When he was being sweet and kind you could blindly ignore what was reality. Him being your captor, it was easy to pretend that was not what was happening when he was sweet. When he was cooing in your ear, complimenting you. Telling you about how he desired you, how wonderful your body was. An illusion you could keep until he wanted more. Until movements like now. 

“I’m sorry, but please, please not now.” 

Shigaraki stared at you for a few moments. Contemplating his decisions before finally laying back down. Continuing his attack on your neck and humping your thighs. He was being rougher now, more demanding.  

“Fuck, I just-I just want you so badly.” His grip was getting tighter. Trying to steady himself as he was getting closer. “I think about you all day. T-think about your body. Your soft skin, s-shit, I’m close.” His thrusting suddenly stopped as he sat up. “Take off your top” When you didn’t move fast enough, he ripped it off himself. Leaving your chest bare for him. “So, fucking perfect. Look at these.” His hands groped your chest. “Fuck, I’m going to cover them in my cum. You're gonna look even better.” Shigaraki moved to pull down his pants, pulling his dick out as he began to jack himself off. 

“Wh-what are you going to do-” 

“Shh, just let me.” 

It was clear what he wanted, what he was going to do. If he couldn't fuck you and cum in you it seemed like he was going to settle on cumming on you. There was nothing you could do, but stare up at him and watch him get himself off over you.

You could tell when he was close, his brows scrunched up and his mouth opened a bit. Trying his best to focus on finishing. You closed your eyes waiting for him to just get it over with. To feel the warmth of his cum on your skin. To finally have this movement come to a stop as your skin has been defiled once again. It didn’t take long until it came. Until Shigaraki finally got the view of you he wanted. Shigaraki let out a pitiful moan as you felt the warmth layer your skin. Most covered your chest, but some managed to shoot up to your face. Landing on your cheek and chin. You wanted to cringe at the feeling. To throw him off of you and wipe it off, but you knew better than to upset him. Once he revived enough energy, he would get up and get something to wipe you down as a courtesy for being so good. All you had to do was wait. 

“That, that felt so good.” He was breathless. Leaning down to whisper in your ear. “You look good like this. Covered in my cum.” 

You finally opened your eyes, staring up at him while he looked down at you. Sweat dripped from his forehead as his mouth held the biggest grin who’ve seen on him in a while. It was disgusting how you laying there, his victim, covered in his cum made him so happy.  

“You’re so pretty like this.” One of his hands came up to rub the cum on your cheek further into your skin. “You should be like this more, having your pretty little body covered in my cum.” 

Pretty, that always left his mouth. You were just his pretty little toy. Something pretty to toy with and torment. To get his frustration out on. Just something pretty for him.

His thumb scoped some of the cum towards your mouth. Placing his thumb between your lips. Letting you taste him. He was bitter and gross, a taste you never liked. His diet didn't help, he lived off of chips and pop. For some reason, it seemed like it got worse every time instead of better. A taste you never got use to.

“Yeah, that’s it sweetie. Open up and taste me. Don’t I taste good?” 

You didn’t answer, instead trying to focus on keeping your face in control. To not show him your true feelings. That this wasn't something you enjoyed. But you must if given something away. Must have shown him what you really thought because your silence only seemed to anger him. 

“I said” His thumb was removed. Instead, his hand was now in your hair. Pulling your head up off the bed as he positioned himself closer. Now aligned your mouth with his dick. “I taste good right?” 

“Ow-fuck-yes, yes you do.” 

“Do I? Since you like it so much why don’t you have more.” 

Suddenly his hand pressed your face closer to his dick. Trying to get you to open up so he could fuck your face. Filling up more of your mouth with his bitter taste. You tried to resist as much as you could, but it was useless. He managed to get your mouth open and shoved himself in. It was vile, bitter and too big. It hurt having him shove himself down your throat and slam into you. Your hands found his waist and tried to pry him off of you. Tried to get the pain and bitter taste to end. It felt like forever when he finally pulled you off him by your hair. Your chin was covered in your drool now. The taste refusing to leave your mouth.  

“Good girl. I like you like this.” 

Shigaraki got himself off of you. Looking you over again and smiling at the scene. You still had the cum on your chest. Something he was obviously no rush to clean off.  

“Next time, I’m gonna fuck your pretty body and have my cum drip out of you." The look on your face wasn't missed on him. "Or perhaps I can keep you using that warm mouth of yours. Just got to open it when I say so.” 

He was finally done waiting, done being as patient as someone like Shigaraki could be. There was little you could do to buy yourself more time. Your mouth would only keep him happy for so long. His true nature and wants were finally coming out and now you would have to pay the price. 

#yandere #yandere shigaraki tomura #yandere shigaraki #yandere bnha #yandere mha #bnha #mha #shiggy #shigaraki tomura #tomura shigaraki #yandere x reader #yandere blog #bnha shigaraki #yandere bnha x reader #yandere mha x reader #yandere shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #reader insert #yandere anime #nova writes

[after-witch]

"Shigiraki, I think I left the oven on back at my apartment can you go turn it off for me?"

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, written on my phone I hope the formatting doesn't suck, requests are closed this is from when I opened them

--

He stares at you, blinking, expression bored and dull. It makes you feel dumb.

"Do you actuallly think I'm that stupid?" He asks, after a while. It's one of the first questions he's asked you that hasn't been hissed in your ear or murmured against your skin. And for that, you feel compelled to actually answer.

"... No," you reply, shrugging, letting your shoulders sag in defeat. "But I thought maybe you'd feel bad for me and go anyway, and then..." You let your words trail off, and you gnaw your lower lip, tugging at the dry skin slowly with your teeth.

"And then...?" He echoes your words, looking at you curiously.

"There's some things," you say, feeling bolder. "At my apartment. Personal things. That I'd like...if you could get them?"

He doesn't say no, which spurs you on.

"Like, my music player. It's old-fashioned, but it keeps me calm sometimes. And my stuffed animals." You glance at him, looking apologetic. "Well, at least my brown bear--that's Mr. Bear--and lamb." You glance again. "Lamby, that's her name. She plays music." You sigh, a soft rattle from a cold you can't quite shake. "And um, maybe my--"

He puts his hand up, and you immediately press your lips together.

"Sorry," you mumble. "I didn't mean to--"

"I'll have Kurogiri make a list." It's almost grumbled out, and for a moment--just a moment--your captor, Tomura Shigaraki--looks a little vulnerable. "You can have all your stuffed animals, if you want. I don't care." He shakes his head and rolls his eyes.

"Just... don't expect me to keep them all on the bed. This is my room. You're just living in it."

Your smile isn't forced, though your chapped lips ache with it. For now, if it comes with the prize of some of your favorite belongings, you can live with that.

#yandere shigaraki #yandere shigaraki x reader #yandere bnha #yandere tomura shigaraki #afterwitch writes #yandere #yandere interactions #seriously not being able to write at night is killing meeeee #but lil drabble in my phone will have to do

[ghostsy]

Midas Touch

WARNINGS: yandere, possessiveness, manipulation, implied abuse, non-consensual implications, toxic relationship, unreliable narrator

read at your own discretion.

yandere ! SHIGARAKI TOMURA X READER

“I’m sorry.”

“No talking,” Her lips twisted, but still she kept her gaze towards the setting sun, “Please. No talking, please.”

“Okay,” He sighed, and a heavy feeling settled on his heart, “No talking.”

He figured it less of a wish for silence, and more a fear of what she would say if she allowed herself to speak. A fear of what he would do if the words strayed from the script he’d given her who knows how many days or months or years ago.

He supposed he couldn’t blame her, but the thought still left a bitter taste in his mouth, tongue itching against his teeth, desperate to bridge the gap between them.

But he swallowed the urge, and settled for staring instead. She never said he couldn’t stare, and though she drew her knees closer to her chest, she didn’t reprimand him. Wouldn’t. 

And try as he might, he couldn’t tear his eyes from her profile; how regal it was, the warm golden glow of the setting sun surrounding them, though, seeming only to grace her with its light. Orange gleamed against her skin, eyes shimmering as flecks of yellow danced along the waterline.

The shine that crept at the edges of her lashes followed the sharp curve of her nose, and like strokes of a painting, it swept across her cheekbones.

A soft wind blew through her hair, rose-gold glimmering between the gaps of the swaying strands, and coloring the ends in a brilliant kind of orange-red. Kind of like a halo, he thought.

And then he caught sight of it, and the weight in his chest cracked his ribs. 

It was an ugly sort of blue-green, distracting from the warm light that would have made her look altogether angelic. Would have. But the purpling fingerprints–five, to be exact–stained the sides of her throat, and he felt like screaming.

But she asked him not to speak. And so he wouldn’t. Sew his mouth shut until she deemed it worthy enough to open. Perhaps that was the solution; it seemed that words only ever hurt the both of them. Her, not you.

Once upon a time, he thought she was something made only for him. A shiny toy he could touch and hold and squeeze. A toy that wouldn’t break. 

He realized, in time, however, that he had never known how to take care of his toys as a child. Long before they’d turn to dust, he’d never handled anything as delicate, as soft, as pretty.

But she wasn’t a toy. And, though she couldn’t shatter under his touch, she could break. Scream and cry and beg while he took and took and took. Whatever momentary pleasure he’d stolen from her dissolving in the darkness of the aftermath. The bruises. The blood. The tears.

He sent her a silent apology; she may not have been made for him, but she had made him something. Took what broken nothing he knew he was, and warmed the dead and blackened coal in his chest until it set aflame cradled between hands soft as silk.

He hadn’t anything else to grasp onto–literally or otherwise–that could keep him from falling to pieces himself. He was selfish, he knew, but it was moments like these–moments whose frequency he could no longer count–where he felt guilty. 

It had become a pattern. Whatever anger or hatred or resentment he felt towards the world became a burden for her to bear. He naively, cruelly, thought her responsible for keeping his own shadows in check. Use her golden touch, give that bright smile he hadn’t seen in who knows how long, save him with her stolen radiance. 

Only to realize time and time again that shadows were greedy, creeping and growing, laughing as they devoured the light, licking desperately at their fangs for more to rip, more to tear. More to destroy. 

And after his shadows had smothered her light, he’d work his way to forgiveness by finally letting her breathe, consciously or otherwise, believing it enough to erase the indiscretions of his own darkness. Give that snuffed out golden flame a little breeze to reignite the fire.

It was a pattern of which he was painfully aware. Still, it was a lesson that never seemed to stick, and he was reminded of their current predicament.

In the distance, the sun fell beneath the horizon, its glow swallowed up by the edge of the earth. The cityscape was less alive for it, fluorescent yellow-blues filling the glass spaces, too bright neons flickering on.

His focus was pulled back to her as a sigh left her lips. The pink-orange glimmer had left her now, and the blue film of the night had tinted her skin. 

How fitting. 

The weight on his heart settled, and burning disgust used the heavy bones as kindling. He wished the fire to turn him to ash from the inside out, but found it to be yet another selfish desire. She had no need for graying ashes. 

Though, following the discolorations that surely trailed further and deeper onto the canvas of her skin hidden from view–had she any use for him?

He hadn’t noticed he’d started crying until the brush of fingertips traced along the back of his hand, rubbing fallen tears from his knuckles. Turning, he watched as she reached beside her, where his palm lay flat against the roof, pulling his fingers into her own.

As he scanned her, face still turned away, he realized that the bruises blended in with the twilight. Even without the sun, even covered in shadow, she was beautiful. With her hand in his own, soothing at the skin with her thumb, and the evidence of his indiscretion fading with the darkening sky, he found himself finally able to breathe.

He looked to their interlocked fingers, grip turning fierce, desperate. Trying to convey all the words unspoken. She didn’t protest, opting instead to squeeze at his hand in some sort of placation, forgiveness, and he remembered exactly why they needed each other. Why they loved each other.

Maybe this time would be different. She didn’t need to keep the shadows at bay if she joined him in the darkness. He’d dragged her there too many times for her to keep her shine. But there were still stars in the night sky. She’d still shine, in a different way than before, but it was enough.

He didn’t need her golden. This was fine. This time things could be different. Would be.

He smiled, sighing, letting his own self-loathing melt away with the misty clouds now eaten up by blended purple-blues. And though she wasn’t looking, as if his thoughts were loud enough for her to hear, to listen, her own lips parted as a reminder. Though, the words had lost their edge.

“No talking.” 

“Right,” He breathed, “No talking.”

I’m sorry.

#yandere shigaraki #yandere bnha #yandere mha #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere my hero academia #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere tomura shigaraki #yandere shigaraki tomura #yandere shigaraki x reader #yandere shigaraki tomura x reader #angsty angst time #sad boi hours

[yanderenightmare]

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?”

#yandere shigaraki #yandere my hero academia #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere shigaraki tomura #yandere shiggy #yandere shigaraki x reader #yandere mha #yandere bnha #shigaraki smut #shigaraki thirst #yandere tomura shigaraki #yandere tomura #tomura smut #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki fanfiction #shigaraki x y/n #shigaraki imagine #shigaraki x you #tomura x you

[artemis32]

Carte Blanche

Yandere! Shigaraki x female reader

College au (no quirks)

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

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

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

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

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

word count - 21k

****

art’s birthday event masterlist

bnha masterlist

****

****

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

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

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

University was a whole new experience.

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

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

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

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

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

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

****

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kirishima, what the hell?” you yell.

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

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

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

Yuck yuck yuck yuck.

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

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

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

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

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

“So, what’s up? It sounded urgent.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“- Kurogiri,” you clarify.

Kirishima nods in acknowledgement, continuing with a hum.

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

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

You hum, thumbing the pages of your textbook.

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

You throw him a tired smile.

He reaches out to you, almost hesitantly.

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

Protests fall from your lips before he finishes his sentence.

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

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

“Wait, I still have to study!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

****

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

Private.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yep, I already hate him.

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes widen, his blatant disrespect shocking you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right on the mark, huh?”

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

“Yeah, haha, you got me there.”

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

What the fuck is up with this guy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

****

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

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

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

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

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

What else…

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

Red.

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

They were beautiful. And they were angry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, bite me.”

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

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

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

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

Kirishima deadpans, raising an eyebrow as he addresses you.

“What am I, a pack mule?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sero’s eyes bulge.

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

“Um, ethics versus morality.”

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

“Yeah? How far are you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They exchange a glance then look back at you.

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

“Yeah, what about it?” you ask.

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

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

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

He looks shocked, but shakes your hand, nonetheless.

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

Kirishima laughs, leaning forward to look at Sero.

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

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

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

You grimace, shaking your head.

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

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

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

You sigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

I can handle it; you think to yourself.

****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gross.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

****

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

Your mouth drops open at your professor's words.

“But Professor-!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You fix her with a blank stare.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mina wrinkles her nose again, her eyebrows scrunching together.

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

She deliberates for a moment before speaking again.

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

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

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

She nods in understanding, quickly changing the topic.

****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh shit.

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

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

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

“Outside,” he says.

A beat of silence passes before he continues.

“Bakugo’s pissed.”

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

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

Yes, Bakugo Katsuki was not happy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bakugo huffs, rolling his eyes slightly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sniffed, lightly tapping his shoulder.

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

You laugh at that, gently squeezing his sides.

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

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

You clear your throat before speaking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wet your lips slightly, nodding in mute agreement.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At that, Jirou scoffs.

“Please, as if we’d laugh.”

She pauses for a moment.

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

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

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

Then, a thought hit you.

“Hey Bakugo,” you call.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

****

Someone was calling your name.

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

Your stomach drops.

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

Oh no.

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

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

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

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

He gestures towards the seat opposite his desk.

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

You sit, still shaking and panicked.

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

And then, he laughs.

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

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

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

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

Oh, thank goodness.

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

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

Your stomach drops.

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

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

What is this about?

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

“And… how have you found him?”

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

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

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

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

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

Why was he asking you these questions?

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

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

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

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

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

Or maybe I shouldn’t say anything.

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

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

Realisation strikes you then, and you feel horror mounting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hovers over you, leaning closer than he should.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, I want it… Thank you.”

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

“Um, Shigaraki?”

He hums, still staring, still holding your wrist.

“Could you please let go of my hand?”

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

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

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

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

You sit.

****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But it bothered you, his change in personality.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

****

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

You freeze, pen halting over the page.

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

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

It isn’t a suggestion.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And the look on his face –

Is he… Is he happy?

He must have been.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing?” he questions you.

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

“Already?” he says with a disappointed look.

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

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

“Come on, my treat.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“See anything you like?”

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

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

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

That makes you pause for a moment.

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

Your stomach drops.

Does… Does he think this is a date?

No, you laugh internally.

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

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

“Thanks Tomura, you look great too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He pauses, thinking over his words for a moment.

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

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

No no no no, that’s not what I meant!

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

Of course your plan backfired.

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

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

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

That was unfortunate.

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

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

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

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

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

****

You’d done it.

You’d actually passed your exam.

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

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

Relief had never felt so good.

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

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

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

That led to your current predicament.

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

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

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

“Shigaraki, I –”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t look back after you leave.

****

“You all packed?”

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

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

You stand up and stretch.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rising with a groan, you lug your bag over to Kirishima and Mirio, dropping it down in a pile of other bags for them to organise in the bus.

“Thanks Kiri,” you say with a cheeky grin.

He rolls his eyes and scoffs, “Yeah, yeah, treat me like a slave, why don’t you.”

You pat him on the back and walk over to where Mina stands, conversing with Denki and Shinsou.

“Hey lover boys, how’s it going?” you ask, leaning back as Mina envelopes you in a hug.

Denki splutters and chokes out disagreements, pausing with a flushed face only when you and Mina burst out laughing.

“We are not ‘lover boys’,” Denki mutters under his breath, pouting like an angry child.

“Suure,” you say, throwing him a knowing look.

Shinsou rolls his eyes, though he turns away and leaves soon after that to hide his own laughter.

“I’m serious,” Denki exclaims, running his hand through his hair.

“Woah, calm down, I know.”

You pause, leaning in closer for a moment to whisper to him.

“You’ve got the hots for Jirou, don’t you?”

You didn’t think it was possible, the shade of red his face turned was reminiscent of a fire truck.

He looks everywhere but your face, adamantly avoiding eye contact.

“I-,” he coughs lightly, “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Your brain must be fried from all those tests. Ah, Kirishima looks like he needs help. Well, I’ll be leaving now.”

He runs off in a hurry as you and Mina break down into a fit of giggles, grasping at one another in a sorry attempt to stay standing.

“Hey, what was that about? Kaminari looked all hot and bothered.”

The two of you look up, and your small giggles turn to gasping laughter as you catch sight of Jirou, her brow furrowed in confusion as you and Mina lay breathlessly on the floor.

“N-Nothing! It’s nothing, we’re all good,” you say through spluttered gasps.

She shrugs and walks off, leaving the two of you to dust off.

Your large group departs soon after that, the lot of you piling into the minivan and setting off.

By the time you arrive, the sun is near its peak, and you’re all antsy, eager to get started.

Bakugo, the unspoken leader of your group, claps his hands twice to gain everyone’s attention.

“Okay people let’s get going. I hope you’ve all emptied your bladders, there won’t be any rest stops for a while.”

He pauses, looking around, his gaze stopping pointedly in your direction before you shake your head, and he continues.

“No? No one? Great, let’s go.”

****

It’s dumb. It’s so dumb.

It’s such a stupid, risky idea, but you do it anyway.

Kirishima, Jirou, Denki and Sero come with you, so it’s not that stupid, right?

Right?

Regardless, it’s too late to back out now.

The five of you dump your belongings on the bank next to the lake and shuffle out of your clothing, giggling all the while.

Once you’re all stripped down to your underwear, you sprint to the lake, Kirishima hauling you over his shoulder and running headlong into the now icy water.

You squeal and wriggle in his grip, trying and failing to hold him down beneath the water.

He plays along for a bit, pretending to splutter when he rises for air, before breaking out into a string of laughter with you.

Next to you, Denki splashes at Sero and Jirou, chasing them around as he flails his arms.

Your small group continues on like that for an hour and a half, splashing about, talking about how the year was, your plans for the next few months off, classes you wanted to take next year.

It was nice - peaceful. Exactly why you’d been looking forward to this trip so much.

Granted, Bakugo would probably blow a fuse if he found out that the five of you had snuck off in the dark without letting anyone know, but what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, right?

Besides, this was the final day of your trip, and despite your earlier reservations, everyone - namely Denki - had managed to behave themselves. You felt as though a bit of recklessness had been earned. And it wasn’t as if this was something you did regularly.

“Ah, I’m getting kinda cold. I think I’ll head back now,” you say to the remaining duo.

Sero and Kirishima had long since left, probably back to camp to convince Shinsou to join them in lighting up a joint.

Jirou and Denki called out to you as you waddled out of the water.

“Are you sure?”

“Do you want us to come with you?”

You wave them off as you pull on your shorts.

“I’ll be fine. Camp is like, barely a ten-minute walk away. You guys have fun.”

You finish dressing, crouching down to gather your shoes and bag.

“See you later,” you smile at them, throwing Denki a knowing look as you wave goodbye to the pair, making your way down the narrow, overgrown pathway back towards the campsite.

The sound of splashing and squeals of laughter follow you.

Barely five minutes later, you’re ambling down the path, mindful of the upturned roots while still enjoying the darkened scenery and fresh, crisp air.

While you didn’t go on hikes like this one often, it was something you enjoyed. Just getting away from civilisation for a bit always did wonders for your mind, and it made you appreciate the modern niceties you had back home.

You’re so lost in thought, you don’t hear the quiet snap of a branch next to you, nor do you see the shock of bright hair slowly stalking after you.

A thick tree root almost trips you up, and you stumble slightly before coming to a halt, laughing out loud in slight embarrassment.

“Geez, what a fucking klutz. Thank God no one saw that, they’d never let me live it down,” you mumble to yourself, placing your palm over your racing heart.

You huff out loudly before continuing on.

There’s a sound then, one that’s barely audible. It’s a small puff of air, almost like a scoff or a muffled laugh.

It’s so slight, so quiet, you almost don’t catch it.

But you do.

And stupidly, you turn around.

What did you expect, you think.

Maybe an animal? Maybe Denki or Sero trying to pull a prank? Maybe Jirou, coming to walk back with you despite your earlier protests?

It’s none of those things.

Eyes.

Red eyes.

They seem to glow in the low moonlight.

Your heart jumps, breath catching in your throat for a moment.

The two of you stand there for a moment, neither of you moving, neither of your breathing or even blinking.

Your shock wears off first, and you bolt as soon as he straightens up.

He’s right behind you, descending upon you like the grim reaper.

You run, pushing yourself to go faster, just a bit faster, but it’s not enough. You know it’s not enough. You felt it even before you’d started running.

A pathetic whimper breaks through your panting, and you feel your legs shake. From fear or exertion, you wonder.

You don’t try to weave through the trees, or veer back around to where Denki and Jirou were. Maybe if you’d had a clearer head, you could have come up with a better plan than just run. You didn’t - you couldn’t. You ran and ran and ran, even when it felt as though his outstretched fingertips brushed against the back of your neck, you ignored it and just kept running.

Soon, the campsite is within view, and you can see the slight flicker of the fire Todoroki had made hours earlier. You push yourself, willing your body past its limits, not stopping even when you feel like the relief makes your body sag.

Come on! You think to yourself as you let out a choked sob.

You’re so close, don’t stop, don’t slow down.

You’re a hair's breadth away from the treeline when two arms shoot out from the darkness behind you, one circling your waist, knocking what little air you’d had out of your lungs, the other coming around to cover your mouth. You don’t have any time to draw in a breath, to scream or even process what’s happening.

The cloth over your mouth and nose smells sickly sweet, and you’re too shocked, too out of breath from the sudden chase to think about holding your breath.

Before you lose consciousness, the last thing you see is the outline of several figures sitting around the fire, barely a hundred metres away from your place in the thick forest of trees.

You really wish you’d taken Denki and Jirou up on their offer.

****

The room you wake up in is dark, the collection of computer monitors against the opposite wall acting as the only light source.

It’s bright, and the sharp light hurts your head. You have to shut your eyes for a few moments to rid it of the slow pounding building up behind your eyes.

Your mouth is dry, and your limbs feel heavy. By all means, your condition is cause for panic. But strangely, your emotions feel muted.

The door opens with a silent woosh, and there’s a flood of brighter light from the corridor beyond.

You wince, turning your head away from the light.

It closes soon after that, and you hear slow, measured footsteps make their way closer to you before they stop.

The bed dips slightly, and you want to turn to see who waits behind you. You want to, but you don’t – you can’t. Your mind still feels hazy, unresponsive, but you’re aware enough to realise that you should be scared.

So, you don’t move, and you don’t open your eyes.

You lay there, still, silent, waiting with bated breath for whatever comes next.

There’s a hand on your shoulder, and then some pressure. You’re turning, being forced onto your back.

“Come on, open your eyes. I know you’re awake.”

That dry, raspy voice. It’s familiar in ways you wish you could forget.

You open your eyes.

He smiles.

Everything makes sense now, and the fog over your mind dissipates.

He’s still staring at you. He was always staring at you. Why?

“Shigaraki?” you rasp out, your throat aching.

His smile drops, eyes darkening as he leers at you from above.

“Tomura.”

“Wha-?”

“I hate it when you act like that. Call me Tomura, like you used to.”

You ignore his words, continuing despite the alarm bells blaring in your head.

“Where am I? What happened? I was with Kirishima and the others, and then I got separated, I think. Or maybe I left? I don’t remember.”

He doesn’t say a word, still staring, waiting.

Had he not heard you? You’re about to repeat yourself when he speaks again.

“Say my name. Say my name and I’ll answer your questions.”

“Shiga– Tomura,” you quickly correct yourself, the look on his face turning to one of cold, hard fury with your words.

“Tomura, sorry. Tomura,” you say, taking a deep breath, “please, I– what am I– what are we doing here? Where is ‘here’ anyway? I don’t remember anything and you’re really starting to freak me out.”

He calms down after you correct yourself, though only slightly. He shifts in place, fixing you with a look as he answers.

“What does that matter? You’re fine, so stop asking all these pointless questions.”

It felt as though you’d travelled back in time, back to when you’d first met him.

His attitude, his words, and mannerisms, they were all the exact same as they’d been originally, back when you’d openly admitted you couldn’t stand him.

Truthfully, you’d felt off from the moment you’d made eye contact with Shigaraki, a feeling of subtle fear boiling away in your gut, growing stronger with every passing moment. You tried to control your panic, but it was becoming difficult to hide it, and it was clear that Shigaraki saw it too, if the sour expression on his face was anything to go by.

“Where are my friends?” you ask, your voice surprisingly steady considering your mental state.

“They’re probably back at the university by now, I guess.”

He brushes off your question, shifting closer towards you with a strange look in his eyes.

“You… You didn’t mean all that, right? What you said before, I mean, about us not being friends and all that.”

His gaze is intense, but you feel yourself growing angry with his words.

“Is that what this is about? You got me alone to ask about that? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You roll your eyes, knocking his hand away from your shoulder, sitting up and shuffling further away from him.

“Listen, I don’t know what’s going through your head, but I meant what I said, and this is exactly why. You clearly don’t understand boundaries, and you throw the worst temper tantrums when you don’t get your way,” you say, raising your voice to cut him off when he opens his mouth with an indignant look to interject.

“No, you need to listen, I’m serious. This is weird - you’re weird. You need help – this isn’t normal. We’re not friends, and we never were. You were my tutor, and now you’re not. You have no reason to contact me, and frankly, I wouldn’t want to talk to you either way. I mean, I don’t think we’d be very good friends anyway, but that’s beside the point. And this? This is just too far. What kind of creep basically kidnaps someone just to talk to them?”

You finish your rant with a huff, breathing heavily. You nearly felt bad about getting so worked up, but he truly had freaked you out. You meant what you’d said about his lack of understanding when it came to your boundaries.

He sits unmoving before you, hands curled into tight fists on his lap.

“Say something,” you demand after a few moments.

He says nothing, still staring down at his lap. You reach for him, your hand grabbing his shoulder in a firm grip.

“Hey, say somethin–”

Smack!

You’re not facing him anymore. You’re not even upright. You lay sprawled across the bed, cheek burning painfully where he’d struck you.

He descends on you, flipping you onto your back and pinning you down when you begin thrashing around.

You whimper slightly, especially when you catch a glimpse of the cold fury on his face.

“You’re such a goddamn bitch,” he hisses, hunched over you with his face so close to your own that you can see each of his individual eyelashes, the small mole next to his mouth, the slight furrow of his eyebrows.

“Always whining and bitching and moaning. Fuck, I should’ve smacked the shit out of you earlier. Not so mouthy now, are you?” he says, grabbing your jaw and shaking your head from side to side.

“Let me go,” you say.

It sounds pathetic, even to your own ears, and he laughs cruelly in your face, lightly slapping your cheek as he coos down at you.

“Aw, are you not having fun? Are you scared? What a shame.”

He straightens up, cocking his head to the side.

“I’m too nice, considering how you’ve treated me. Here I am, planning to make you feel good, to make you happy, despite your bad attitude. You really should act more grateful.”

“What are you talking about?” you question, still filled with enough burning anger that you can ignore your fear.

“Huh? Well...” he trails off, running his hand over your chest, gently squeezing at your chest, “I think I’m owed this - after all, I’ve done so much for you. Don’t worry, it’ll feel good.”

He pauses, squeezing your waist tightly.

“To be completely honest with you,” he laughs breathlessly, “God, this is so embarrassing - fuck, I’ve thought about this since the first moment we met. You looked so cute, staring up at me with those eyes.”

He groans deeply, shutting his eyes for a moment.

“Ah fuck, you have no idea what you do to me, do you?”

You flinch back, curling away from him in disgust.

“There’s no way in hell I’ll let you touch me. You’re such a goddamn pervert - get off,” you say, thrashing around.

He keeps you pinned in place easily, and you might have been embarrassed, had the situation been different.

“Hey, stop moving so much. And don’t call me a pervert.”

You ignore him, bucking your hips to try and throw his body off of your own. It doesn’t work, and he stares at you in annoyance, huffing after a few minutes.

He grabs your shoulders and pushes them down. It’s painful and he knows it, sneering when your eyes scrunch up to stop the tears.

“Stop moving or I’ll tie you down,” he spits at you, and you flinch back as if he spews venom.

“I tried to do this the nice way, but you’ve been such a bitch about it,” he rants on, ignoring how you try to melt into the bed below.

“I was nice to you, wasn’t I? I smiled at you and talked all sweet. Hell, I even took you on a date. But no, nothing’s good enough for you.”

He pauses, shifting on top of you. Surprisingly, despite his seemingly slight frame, his weight is crushing, and you can barely breath as he lays on top of you.

“Well, I’m done being nice. Dabi and Hawks, my father, they were right – if I want something, I should take it. I’m going to take what I want, and you’re going to lay there and take it,” he tells you, his hand sliding down between your bodies to paw at your clothed cunt.

It was as if a fire had lit under you, and you renew your struggles once more, writhing and kicking beneath him, trying to buck him off of you.

You fail miserably, of course, only serving to upset him even more than you already had. He makes his anger clear, fitting his hand around the column of your neck, pining you in place so roughly that you can hardly draw in a breath.

He watches with an apathetic eye as you splutter and gasp beneath his grip, nails cutting into his skin harshly.

A thin trail of blood drips down the side of his hand and onto the pristine white bed sheets, and he watches with flat interest as his own blood stains it.

He grows tired of your struggles soon after that, moving his hand towards your jaw and dragging you forward to force your lips against his. It hurts, his teeth clashing against yours, drawing blood when he sinks his teeth into your bottom lip.

You whimper pathetically, still trying to pull away.

He pulls away only when the lack of oxygen forces him to, and he watches, panting, with a heavy-lidded gaze as you gasp for air.

“Please,” you whisper, one last attempt to get him to empathise with you.

“Please, don’t do this.”

He seems to think it over for a moment, but his contemplative look soon turns wicked, a nasty grin splitting his face, one like you’ve never seen before.

“I’ll do whatever I want.”

That seals your fate.

He lifts off of you slightly, only enough to rip your shirt down, stretching the material so that it lay scrunched up beneath your bra. He palms your tits through the fabric, roughly kneading them like stress balls.

Throughout that time, he had the same strange look on his face, one of intense focus. His brow furrowed slightly, and his mouth hung open as he stared down at your chest.

You lay there, stock still, breathing heavily. Despite your previously iron will, tears were quickly gathering in the corners of your eyes, and you couldn’t bring yourself to care enough to blink them away, so you let them stream silently down your temples.

Shigaraki looks up at you then and gives you what he must believe to be a reassuring smile.

It makes your stomach turn.

“Don’t worry. You’ll enjoy this too. I’ll–” he draws in a sharp breath, “I’ll try to be gentle.”

You’ll enjoy this too.

…enjoy this?

He’s delusional, you think, he has to be.

Surely there was no other explanation. There was no way he thought you’d actually enjoy what he was about to do to you. And his reassurance that he’d try to be gentle only made your panic that much worse.

But you know, deep down, that there was no getting out of this. Not when he had such a focused aura about him, and definitely not when you saw how violent he could become when you fought back. Or rather when you tried to.

So, mentally, you resigned yourself to your fate.

I’ll let him do what he wants. He’ll get it out of his system, and I’ll get to leave once he’s done. Just get it over and done with. Suck it up for a bit and deal with this later.

Your self-reassurance does little to comfort you, but you continue to lay there, silent and unmoving as Shigaraki moves to strip you of your shirt and bra.

“God, you have no idea how long I’ve waited for this. You’re so perfect, and you’re all mine.”

His words are possessive, mirroring his hands as they map the expanse of exposed skin, running up and down your sides. His palms, as usual, are smooth and cold, and they cover your skin with goosebumps wherever he touches you.

“Mine. Mine, mine, mine,” he mumbles under his breath as he takes your breasts into his large palms, breathing heavily. His pupils are blown wide, and he lets out a low moan when he squeezes your bare breasts, watching as your nipples harden in the cool air.

He leans forward, somewhat hesitantly, before prodding it with his tongue. His eyes jump to your face for a reaction, though you disappoint him when all he gets in return is a teary, fearful look.

Humming, he gently kisses your nipple before sucking it into his mouth.

The groan he lets out is pornographic, and it makes you wiggle in discomfort beneath him.

He seems to take that as a sign that you’re enjoying it, becoming more confident in his movements. His right hand moves to fondle your other breast, and you think that he must have never touched a woman before - not with the way he gropes your chest so painfully, as if he hopes to pin you down and tear you apart.

Eventually, after he’s had his fill of pawing at your chest, he pulls away, chin slick with his own saliva, breathing heavily and pupils blown wide.

“I can’t wait anymore.”

You say nothing, turning your head to the side and screwing your eyes shut.

He pays your misery no mind, shuffling down your body to strip you of your remaining clothing.

Once you’re completely bare, he takes a moment, one longer than you’d like, to appreciate the sight of you, naked and vulnerable beneath him.

He touches you, just once, his hands ghosting over your waist as he draws in a quick, sharp, staggered breath.

“I can’t believe you’re all mine,” he whispers to himself.

“I love you,” he says to you, his eyes filled with a sick, twisted adoration.

He wastes no more time after that, hurriedly ridding himself of his own clothing.

Once he’s bare above you, he grasps his cock in his hand, gently pumping the shaft while he stares at you, brows furrowed in pleasure.

You try your hardest not to look at him, at his cock, but his other hand shoots up to grab at your jaw, fingers digging painfully into skin and bone.

“Look at me.”

You do.

You avoid his face, instead staring directly at his chest.

He’s muscular, and so very pale. It almost looks as if he glows in the low light of the room.

The panes of his chest and stomach show exactly how strong he is. It was no wonder he hadn’t had a problem manhandling you. Muscles rippled under his skin, abs tensing with every slow pump of his cock.

He angles your face downwards so that you have no choice but to stare down at his obvious erection.

If you weren’t terrified before, you definitely were now.

He was massive.

Breaking your streak of silence, your eyes shoot up to meet with his as you plead with him.

“Please, that– you’ll never fit.”

Your face burns with embarrassment and you want nothing more than to turn away and bury your face in your hands.

But you don’t.

You can’t.

While you feel yourself cringe back at the words, they seem to amuse him. His eyes lighten and crinkle slightly at the corners, lips quirking at the corners.

“Don’t worry. It will.”

He pulls you towards himself by your hips, his large hands caressing your smooth skin.

“I’ll make it.”

His thumbs trace small circles on your hips.

Was he trying to comfort you, you wondered?

“No one else I’ve been with was as perfect as you are. None of them,” he tells you softly, his tone passionate and hard.

His words shock you. Both his demeanour and his attitude had made you think that he was a virgin. You would never have imagined that someone more… experienced would hold such a clumsy, carnal desire in their movements.

“I’ll be that for you, too. After I’m done with you, you won’t remember anyone else. Just me. Only me.”

Do I tell him? No… No, it’ll only make his ego worse.

You scoff lightly instead, covering up your fear with silent false confidence.

“Sure. If you say so.”

His gaze hardens and he digs his fingers into your hips, flexing them slightly before swiping them across your pelvis. His movements are slow and calculated, going back and forth, lower, and lower with each swipe, before he reaches your core.

Though his fingers barely brush over your clit, your hips jump forward, a knee jerk reaction to him touching the one part of yourself that you’d never let anyone else see or touch.

He laughs under his breath, watching your face intently.

“So sensitive,” he murmurs, now rubbing slow circles onto the bud.

Your hands fly up to your face, slapping over your mouth to stop the moan you nearly let loose. It comes out sounding strangled and whiny, barely audible at all.

He pulls his hand away abruptly, straightening up.

“Don’t. Don’t do that. I want to hear you.”

You shake your head from side to side, hands still clasped tightly over your mouth.

“Fine,” he sighs, “then I’ll do this the hard way.”

You would never have thought that Shigaraki would be the type to willingly pleasure anyone but himself, but as he lowers himself between your legs, softly nipping at the flesh of your thighs, you think that you might not know him as well as you believed.

Then again, you never thought that he’d be capable of something like this – kidnapping you, being so violent, assaulting you.

His breath is hot against your naked cunt, and heavy as he stares at the juncture between your legs with rapt attention. He shifts your thighs so that they lay over his shoulders, his palms sliding beneath your ass to prop you up slightly.

You want to beg him to stop. You want to scream and cry and hit him upside the head. But you never get the chance.

He descends, his tongue hot and wet where it meets your slit.

Your eyes scrunch up when he moans into your cunt, mumbling about how good you taste.

It seemed as though the taste of you had set something off within him, and he plunged back down to lose himself between your legs.

Despite how violated you felt, his earlier ministrations had gotten you all worked up and sensitive, and you had trouble staying still while he had his way with you.

He alternated between long swipes against your slit and short, harsh nips at your clit. A part of you felt as if he was doing it to punish you for your so-called ‘wrongdoings’, though you told yourself that that was probably just how he acted.

The grip he has on your hips loosens for a moment before he hauls you closer towards him, sliding one of his hands down to join his mouth between your legs.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect. So, so perfect,” he mumbles against your cunt, gently working a long, slender finger into your dripping cunt.

By now your moans are undisguisable, especially when they echo out in the room. They’re the only audible noise besides the slurping sounds Shigaraki lets out and his own groans and mumbles against the wet smack of your cunt.

When he adds a second and then a third finger, you nearly cry.

Out of pain or pleasure, you aren’t sure. Maybe panic.

He chuckles at your moaned garbles, cooing at you from his place between your legs.

“Yeah, that’s it. Come on, come on.”

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, taking you completely off guard. You hadn’t felt anywhere near ready, and it steals the air from your lungs, leaving you a shaking, gasping mess beneath him.

He leaves his place between your legs with one last loving kiss to your clit, laughing when you twitch.

“See, you enjoyed that, didn’t you?”

You ignore his question, trying instead to calm your rapid breathing.

His hand, still covered in a disgusting mixture of your slick and his saliva, pumps up and down his cock.

It’s as pale as the rest of him, and his cockhead had turned a strange shade of red, so dark it almost looked purple.

He catches you staring, snorting at your terrified expression.

“Don’t look so worried,” he says, grasping your thighs, easily widening them so that he could sit comfortably.

“I’ll go slow. Promise.”

With that, he guides his tip towards your entrance, pressing softly into you.

Your eyes bulge slightly as your panic comes to a peak.

“No! Please don’t do this. Please!”

You had reached for his hand while you begged him, but he grabbed your hand as soon as you got near him, crushing it in his grip, ignoring the pained yelp you let out.

He huffs out, nostrils flaring in anger.

“How many times do I have to tell you; this is happening whether you want it to or not. So stop struggling,” he says, pushing your shoulders to get you to lay back down.

“Please, you don’t understand, I’m- I-”

You pause, breathing laboured and strained.

The two of you sit in complete silence, Shigaraki staring at you while stare at the wall opposite the bed. The last thing you wanted was to make eye contact now of all times.

His fingertips find your chin, gently prying your gaze away from the wall and back to his face.

“Are you a virgin?” he asks, so, so quietly, as if it was a curse word.

You nod silently, hesitantly.

A part of you hoped that he’d decide not to go through with it. It was a stupid hope, one that you hadn’t put too much faith in. But that small kernel of hope was still there all the same.

So it stung when, instead of climbing off of you, his face widened into the most vile grin you’ve ever seen.

A choked sob tears its way out of your throat as he leans forward again.

“Really? That’s… I- See? I knew you didn’t mean it,” he stutters as he caresses your face.

“You saved yourself for me. Me. I- Thank you. I won’t disappoint you; I promise. I’ll be your first and last.”

His delusion made you sick, and if you could, you would have gouged his eyes out.

But you’re given no more time to linger on his words as he begins pushing his hips forward.

He was true to his word, at least - going as slowly as he could. He really was trying not to hurt you.

Too bad it wasn’t working.

He pushed in as far as he could before meeting resistance. He tried to get you to loosen up, to relax, he really did.

But he was no saint, and he only had so much patience.

His palm covered the side of your face, thumb rubbing calming circles over your cheek as you cried out, trying to soothe you as he pummelled his cock through your walls.

Soon, you feel the head of his cock nudge at your cervix.

You’re relieved - he’s done, right? He’s touched - violated - every part of you that he could reach. He was done, he had to be.

Except he was still pushing forward, into you, through you.

You let out a strangled cry, blubbering, begging him to stop.

And he does.

He’s panting, all but gasping for breath as he hunches over you, shoulders shaking slightly.

“I’m - oh fuck -  I’m going to move now,” he says, voice strained.

The only response you give is a whimper.

It hurts.

It hurts, until it doesn’t. Until the painful throbbing, the uncomfortable stretch, turns into waves of pleasure, short zings of ecstasy that start from where your bodies meet.

The sounds that fill the room are filthy, and the atmosphere is stifling.

A harsh pap pap pap sound coming from between your bodies, Shigaraki’s groans - his whimpers, your own whiny moans; they all mesh together, drowning out your thoughts.

Shigaraki pauses for a moment, and you think for a split second that he may have been done with you, but then he’s lifting your legs, throwing them over his shoulders, pushing down, into you, and-

“Fuuck.”

The two of you moan in unison.

Shigaraki glances down and lets out a soft exclamation of surprise.

You glance down too.

He starts up slowly again, locking your head into place with his arms, making you watch the small bump from underneath your stomach move with each thrust.

Is that…?

It is.

The imprint of his dick, visible through your stomach.

You whimper again, but somehow, it's not as pained of a sound as you had expected.

His hand slides between your bodies, coming to rest lightly over the bump, feeling himself through you.

“Holy shit, that’s so hot - here.”

He grabs one of your hands, bringing it down, making you feel his cock as it moves inside you.

Your mouth drops open, but his hand leaves yours there, moving lower and lower, until he reaches your clit.

“Come on, cum for me pretty girl,” he mumbles to you, sweat now dripping down his face.

Your eyes roll back as he rubs steady, harsh circles onto your clit. Your hand remains where he left it, feeling the slight jab of his cock with every thrust.

It doesn’t take him long after that, he has you cumming on his cock in minutes.

You hope that he’s done - he must have cum too, right? You hadn’t felt anything, but he must be done now.

He leans back, but pushes your legs down further, pinning them next to your head so that you’re completely folded in half.

“Now it’s my turn,” he says, biting his lip as he stares at you with a heavy-lidded gaze.

You’d thought his pace was harsh before, but that was nothing compared to the way he brutally pounded into you now.

Grasping the sheets next to your head to ground yourself, you feel your body slide up and down the bed, hear the headboard slam against the wall with each thrust.

By now you’re gasping for breath - it feels like his cock is in your lungs, and a glance down shows that his pubes - light blue and curly - are soaked in a mixture of cum and other liquids, both yours and his.

Not only that, but his cock, the massive cock you’d been so terrified of earlier, was completely buried inside of you, to the very hilt, his balls slapping against your ass with every thrust.

He hits a spot deep inside you, one that has you seeing stars, and you throw your head back with a moan as he abuses that sensitive spot.

You should ask him to slow down - you should demand that he stops all together, but you can barely string together a coherent sentence.

Thankfully, he seems to be reaching his own end, massaging your clit as he mumbles to himself.

“...with me - you have to cum with me. Cum. Come on, do it.”

You do.

Your exhausted body wrings out yet another orgasm, twitching pathetically as his hips stutter and you feel warmth flood your insides.

He flops down on top of you, smothering you under his weight. He lays like that for a while, panting, shoving his face into the crook of your neck as his breathing evens out and his cock softens inside of you.

Eventually, when the heat becomes almost unbearable, he rolls off of you, his cock pulling out of you with a nasty plop sound.

You feel empty.

Empty and cold.

He’s still laying there, eyes on the ceiling.

You sit up and shuffle to the end of the bed, still in a daze.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” he asks, propping himself up on one arm to watch you.

“I’m going home,” you mumble, looking around the room. “Where are my clothes?”

He snickers at that, sitting up straight to watch you flit around the room, picking up your discarded clothing, putting items on as you find them.

Underwear, check. Bra, check. Shorts, check.

“You think you’re going home? Don’t be ridiculous.”

You freeze, not turning to face him, shirt still clutched tightly in your hands.

Clearing your throat, you ask him, “W- What do you mean?”

“What do you mean ‘what do I mean’?"

He moves, coming to sit at the edge of the bed.

“Do you really think I went through all that trouble for a quick fuck?”

It’s a rhetorical question, you know it is, but-

“I’m not staying here. I want to go home. Now.”

“No,” he says, finally standing and approaching you.

“I’m not asking. I’m leaving. You got what you wanted, so there’s no reason for me to stay.”

He scoffs, glaring at you.

“‘Got what I wanted?’ Don’t play dumb, you know exactly what I want. Like I said, one quick fuck does nothing for me - I went through all that effort to get your attention, then even more to get you - you’re not going anywhere. You’re staying right here, with me.”

You don’t bother trying to put your shirt on, instead running straight for the door.

He curses as he stops to throw on a pair of shorts, trying to catch up to you as you sprint down corridor after corridor in search of an exit.

This time, you had a good head start against him, so you made it further than you had in the forest.

But of course, nothing ever went your way.

You run down several flights of stairs, coming out in what appears to be a large living room, several massive couches filling the space.

Couches and people.

No, not people - his friends.

You don’t pause though, still sprinting through the space.

Shigaraki yells out and you’re stopped abruptly in your tracks.

Standing in front of you with that stupid fucking smirk is Dabi.

“Man, you’ve got to learn to train your pets. They’ll keep running away if you don’t.”

That smug motherfucker.

“Nice tits babe.”

Your arms fly up to cover your chest as Shigaraki runs up behind you, panting and out of breath, clothed only in a dark pair of boxer briefs - blue and decorated with cartoon dinosaurs.

His hair is a mess, and his face is all red and sweaty. But besides that, he looks pissed.

The grip he has on your forearm is painful.

“Mind your own business,” he hisses at Dabi.

He holds his hands up in mock surrender.

“Woah woah woah, just trying to help - isn’t that right guys?”

The group of people seated on the couches all look away, not making eye contact with anyone in the small group. You don’t recognise any of them.

“Fuck off. And you,” he addresses you, a crazed look in his eyes.

“You’re fucking dead.”

He drags you back to his room.

No one comes to help you.

****

You sit with Shigaraki, watching the news on the huge TV in his lounge.

“Police and locals alike are searching for a young woman reported missing several months ago after a university hiking trip near Mount Natagumo.”

There’s a picture now, one of you and your friends, taken on the day you left for your trip.

It’s grainy and some people are blurry, but you’re all smiling widely, and you’re circled with a bright red line.

“The young woman in question was last seen on the 24th of July at around 2 a.m. Japanese Standard Time, in the Okurama region of the area, about 200 kilometres south of Mount Fujikasane, on the border of Mount Natagumo, according to the Okurama local police. Her sudden disappearance has shocked many of the local residents, many of whom -”

The screen goes black.

Your ears ring in the silence and you try your best to school your features, keeping your face neutral.

“Damn it, why won’t they just drop it already?” Shigaraki mutters next to you, running his hand through his hair in frustration.

He lets out a deep groan, throwing his arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer to his side before shoving his face into the crook of your neck. He inhales loudly, sighing briefly before he continues.

“You wouldn’t leave me, right? They’re being ridiculous. I really thought they would have given up by now, it’s been months,” he pauses, squinting up at you.

“Ugh, this is so annoying. If this goes on for any longer, I’ll have to ask my father to take care of it.”

You’re still stiff next to him. You should answer him soon, you know, but you can’t bring yourself to muster up the energy, or to think of the words he wants to hear. You can’t even lift your hand to pet his hair.

Placating him was exhausting, but you’d done a good enough job over the past few months.

Today though - today you were just so tired.

“Don’t worry,” he says, sitting up straight and pulling you into his lap. “They won’t find you. I’ll make sure they don’t.”

“They might.”

He stops.

“What?”

“They might find me. I hope they do.”

He pushes your hair to the side, covering your neck with soft, wet kisses as he laughs breathlessly.

“You won’t leave me,” he mumbles against your neck.

You’ve stopped wondering about if he thinks that makes you feel better.

He said it to get a rise out of you, and he sighs in annoyance when you remain tense and still in his lap. His hands grip at your waist, fingers flexing every few moments.

“Even if they find out it was me, you won’t leave this place. You won’t leave my side. Never.”

His hold on your waist remains steady as he stands up.

“Well, come on. That ruined my mood, why don’t you make it up to me?”

He’s not asking.

The two of you walk to his room - Shigaraki Tomura chattering all the while, you, holding back tears.

You’re so tired.

You won’t leave my side.

Never.

That sounded more accurate than you’d like.

#yandere #female reader #bnha #mha #dark content #shigaraki tomura #yandere shigaraki tomura #yandere shigaraki #yandere shigaraki x reader #yandere shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki #yandere tomura shigaraki #yandere tomura shigaraki x reader #yandere x reader

[quolafish]

Place to Stay (Yandere!Shigaraki x Fem!Reader)

Warnings - SMUT to come, gentle? yandere, stalking, blood/wounds & sickness

Part 1 / ? PART 2

Shigaraki climbed up to a random roof. Flopping onto the rough tiles, pain wracked his body and pinned him down.

His clothes were wet, and the smell of iron filled his senses as he forced himself to sit up. He hissed, clutching his hand to his stomach, barely able to look down at his fingers. He saw the blood on them in his peripherals, hot and sticky. The smell of iron filled him, causing bile to rise to his throat and a horrible tension behind his bloodshot eyes.

Lolling his head to the side, he was met with his night-blurred reflection. Moonlight didn’t shine over monsters like him. Not that he really cared nor wanted to see himself bleeding out.

The cool air bit his open wounds. The man was no stranger to pain, but he let out a pitiful cry as the cold sank its teeth into him.

He couldn’t die like this.

Gasping, he tried to lug his broken, bleeding body over to the window. It stung. Each bone, muscle, screamed at him. His limps were lead as he rolled over on his belly. He tasted vomit when the rough asphalt rubbed against his bare wound. He rose on shaky knees, dragging himself across the shingles until his bloody hands stuck to the glass.

Pain hit him like a truck, stealing his balance and causing his pounding head to slam against the glass. He groaned. Bile swirled in his mouth as he spat, whimpering as he peeled his bloody cheek off the glass… only to bang his head against the glass once more.

Somebody…

He started to knock using his head, until his failures sparked a fire in him, a deep hatred for himself and he was too weak to scratch the itch. He started to bange his head against the window. Head-banging. He screwed his eyes shut once he started to see spots.

When he opened them, he was met with another pair of eyes staring back at him. He blinked blearily, before the window opened and he toppled forward.

((Hit with a numbing quirk why the window didn’t decay))

His face was pressed up against something soft and plush. A sent other than iron wafted his feverish sensors. Suddenly the man was a child again, pressed up against his mother, who’d hold him and protect and love him…

…if he hadn’t decayed her…

A tear slipped down his cheek as everything went black.

…

He woke up to the sound of sirens. Everything hurt. He saw a woman, applying pressure to his wounds, several bloody gauzes over eachother as she pressed another one down.

“Help is coming,” she said softly to him. “I called 911. Help is almost here.”

The man nodded slowly. 911..

911.

He choked on a gasp, struggling to get away from her. Her pressure loosened, before applying enough to make his head swirl.

“Hey..! Please, don’t panic, you’re in good hands, okay? Just—!”

“No cops,” he managed, speaking through his teeth.

“You need to go to the hospital—“

“No hospital!” He hissed, voice cracking. She nearly dropped another gauze at his breathless scream.

A loud, sound of sparking blaze erupted, hot light spilling into the open window. The sirens were silenced. Screams filled the air, as the smell of smoke began to replace the blue light.

Hands were placed over his wound. The bloody gnash on his stomach. He made a soundness cry, screwing his eyes tight so hard his face ached. 

A warm feeling began to pour into him. His eyes slowly opened, as he watched with a soar neck the bloody flesh began to stich itself back together with a floating, golden thread. It vanished into the air, his skin stained with blood but his wounds no longer bleeding.

The warm feeling was stripped so fast he thought he was naked. Pain flooded him, filled him to the brim until he overflowed. Grimacing, he lurched to his side and threw up.

He flinched at the hand rubbing soothing circles into his back. The warm touch was nothing like the dead, palms and fingers of Father and the rest of his diseased kin. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve, tasting blood. The man was surprised he had the strength. When you touched him, that warm feeling began to course through his blood. Uncanny and strange..

I can’t do anything, he said, starting at his bloody hand prints on the window. He touched glass with all five fingers and it hadn’t decayed. Damn you, Overhaul…

You looked at him. You were trembling nearly as bad as him. He was so sick… your eyes were so gentle…

He asked for a place to stay, when he was a villain and he could just take it… if he had his quirk. The man was feverish, his head pounding and his stomach churning.

You nodded slowly. God, you didn’t look much older but you reminded him of his…

You gently pried his wrists away from his neck. “Don’t scratch, it’ll only make it worse…”

He shut his eyes as he bent over, feeling sick again.

#shigaraki x reader #tomura x reader #yandere shigaraki #yandere tomura #yandere x reader #shigaraki smut #tomura smut #yandere shigaraki x reader #tenko x reader #yandere #shigaraki angst #mha yandere #mha x reader

[lesinquietes]

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

Mean!Yandere!Shigaraki x Bimbo!Reader

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

Previous l

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut the fuck up, you little slut.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You understand that the third strike will be your last.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you miss me?”

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

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

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

“Feels like it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Time’s almost up, whore.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You have to go.

Now.

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

#tw incel #tw noncon #tw misogyny #yandere shigaraki x reader #yandere shigaraki #yandere tomura shigaraki #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki x bimbo reader #afab reader

[mango-bango-bby]

Dont know if you wanna do this but this has been on my mind for a while now lmao.

Shigaraki is playing a video game with you in his lap, the controller almost between your thighs.

When the game gets to difficult the controller buzzes and you jump against him, he smiles. Now he has completely forgotten about the game, purposely taking damage to see your sweet reactions

(Dont know if you've done this before, would be nice if you make a little one shot of this. Love your stuff bye bye!!!)

♡ Video Games ♡

(A/N: Ughhhh I’ve been so busy lately with work and classes, I’ve barely had anytime to write ☹️☹️ I hope that you all understand 💞 Anyways I hope you like this!! This idea is so creative and I loved writing it 💕💕)

Content Warning ⚠️: Yandere, NSFW, vibrators, smut, fem!reader, slight DUB-CON

Summary: Tomura uses his game controller as a vibrator on you (Yan!Shigaraki x Fem!reader)

Masterlist ➸ ♡

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧��︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Tomura loved you a lot, like a lot. He loved you in a lot of innocent ways, liking when you did smiled at him or hugged him in your sleep. However he loved you in a lot of other ways, having trouble sometimes keeping his mind out of the gutter. The way you wiggled in his lap while trying to get comfortable or the way your chest bounced when you walked with a bit to much energy, he just couldn’t help it.

You lean back a bit onto Tomura’s chest. You two sit on the floor of his room in the League’s base, you siting in between his legs with your eyes focused on the screen and the game he was playing. The controller and his hands resting just above your bare thighs, as all you were wearing was a pair of pajamas shorts,

You watch him play the game, although he wasn’t really doing to well because he was fighting a particularly hard boss. Luckily, the health in the game took a long time to decrease, so he still had a lot of time to beat the boss. Tomura sets his hands that hold the controller onto your thighs, which you didn’t think much of.

Until he took damage again. You jumped, letting out a small gasp at the sudden vibration from the controller that was so close to your cunt. Tomura stopped for a moment before setting his head down on your shoulder. You whimper a bit, knowing that he’s going to keep teasing you from how you can feel him smirk against your skin.

He deliberately presses the control against your clit through your shorts, putting a lot of pressure on it. The controller vibrates again as his character takes damage, which has you reaching behind you to hold onto him. As much as he’d love to beat this boss right now, he always took an opportunity to tease you.

“Tomura.. right now?” You whimper, asking if he has to tease you right now. Tomura lets out a raspy hum at your words, wrapping his arms around you so you can’t escape.

The boss in the game lands nonstop hits, the controller doesn’t stop buzzing, sending shock waves through your body and causing you stomach to drop at the incredible feeling.

“Tomura” you whisper, being caged in his arms as he leans over you. You try to wiggle out of his hard grip but he only holds you tighter and presses the end of the controller harder onto your clit. You wiggle, acting as if you’re trying to escape his arms, but he sees how you press your hips against the control and buck your hips.

“Are you going to cum already?” Tomura rasps quietly, being close enough to your ear for you to hear it. It’s been such a short amount of time and yet you’ve already come undone. You nod your head shakily. “Can I cum?” You ask, always asking before cumming. He only nods his head against your shoulder.

He’ll let you cum. Although there’s still a lot of his health bar left, and he’s determined to keep you here until he gets the ‘game over’ screen.

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Thank you for reading, darling!!

#yandere bnha #yandere villain #yandere smut #yandere shigaraki x reader #yandere shigaraki #yandere!shigaraki #yandere tomura x reader #yandere tomura

[living4tomrua]

shigaraki stares at the messages on his phone. he is pissed. seething even.

this number is no longer in service

ever since you had broken up with him he became silent with rage. how dare you leave him. he thought you were different from the rest of the filth in the world.. he had finally thought maybe he had found the only good this world could bring and maybe there is a god on his side. not to mention what the Lov would think, don't you realize how humiliating this could be after accidentally revealing he is in-fact in a relationship infront of the league members.

if he knew you were planing to break-up with him, he would have never let you get the chance to leave. despite his anger, he does feel betrayed, and heartbroken, and the knot in his stomach tightens at the thought of you no longer being in his life.

////

you look over the text one more time, a wave of guilt passes over you for opting to break up with him over text but fearing how he would react in person it was better to be safe then sorry.

the 'harmless' man you had agreed to date has become too much to deal with, often ignoring you for days then arguing about why you weren't answering his texts. you grimaced a little as you recalled one night he showed up slumped down outside your door covered in blood and grime knocking on your door and slurring to be let in. the things you had passed off as just the effects of a bad childhood and not used to being intimate with people had began to frighten you and now you feared his unruly temper would cause harm to not only you but your loved ones as well.

you did love tomura, but you couldn't deal with him anymore, so with some hesitancy you sent one last text, blocked his number, and that was that.

////

he cannot stand for this.

now he finds himself staring at you from across the street, lagging behind a crowd just far enough that even if you did look back you wouldn't see him. this has become an almost daily thing for him, he needs to be near you, wether that's looking in through your windows or walking behind you on your way to work.

god forbid if he happens to see you with someone else, he is devoted to you, and he will ruin the world three times over if it meant you coming back to him, willing or not.

a/n: not proof read but first fic I might make a part 2???

feel free to send me a request!

#shigaraki x reader #tomura shigiraki x reader #shigaraki angst #yandere shigaraki #yandere shigaraki x reader #oneshot