Starboy Tomura Animation

Worship the hand worship-

Chapter 132 | The Plan

tomura with hero reader whose quirk he's stolen, rendering them defenseless

Shigaraki Tomura

TW: slight nsfw, implied prev noncon, captive reader, Stockholm syndrome, implied mental break, mental deterioration, disassociation, manipulation, angsty, but also weirdly fluffy? reader is super fragile

gn reader

The chub of your inner thighs is still wet with the act. You rub them together for no other reason than that it feels pleasant. You trace the awful scars on his arm, using his warm chest as a pillow—the sound beating of his heart thumping rhythmically at your ear, a soothing presence.

 He balances a red book atop your crown.

He doesn’t seem very interested in reading it—only regarding it with jaded eyes, a meager scoff then and there before turning the page. But still, even though the book didn’t excite him, it bothered you that his attention was elsewhere. It sowed the seeds of doubt and gave root to way too many intrusive thoughts, sprouting out and spreading like weeds throughout your mind, making your chest curl at the possibilities.

“Do you think I'm ugly?” you have to ask. You have to know, why isn’t he looking at you.

He pans away from the page, beady garnet eyes softening from scrutiny to nonplus.

Your question stunted him—nearly made him believe he’d heard you wrong. Why someone like you would ever ask someone like him something like that seemed beyond all reason. It would be the same if a flower asked gravel.

But then again, you’d become a little ditzy as of late. Or maybe you’d been so for a little while already. It’s hard to say—you don’t talk as much as you used to. You no longer scream either, though that had ceased even longer ago.

You continue to delicately run your finger over the tear where his tough skin meets the even tougher purple tissue as though mapping the damage. There’s a frown on your face. No, not a frown—a pout. 

He thought for a moment to use it against you like he’d done everything else so far. Lie and say yes, tell you you’re about as ugly as he is—gravel—make you fall even further apart than what you were already. But something compelled him to choose differently.

“I think you're the prettiest thing in the world.”

Your pout is sucked between your teeth as you pick yourself up to peer down at him—eyes round and misty and something more, something strange—dare he say joyed?

You're scaring him.

“Really?” you choke out as if you’d been holding back a lump.

He hasn’t known how to treat you lately. You’ve become too soft to handle poorly—too frail to harass and too willing for him to feel the need to. Earlier, you'd even begged him to fuck harder and deeper—even cum inside. Actually, you hadn't veered away from his touch in a while. More like you've been embracing it.

He'd brushed it off as mere compliance at first, a state of meekness, weakened by being touch-starved, something that perhaps developed into a minor case of Stockholm syndrome.

But the way you're acting now—seems more concerning.

“Yeah,” is all he warrants as an answer. Though, he was curious as to yours as he begs the same question, “What about me?”

A smile graces your face then—there’s a comfort to it, a mild and affectionate one, unexaggerated, honest, as you smoothly swing your leg over his lap.

A look like that has no place on your face, especially when regarding him, and yet he finds himself hoping for more. He lays his book aside as you lean forward and doesn't stop you when you cup his face in both your palms.

“As far as I'm concerned, you’re not just the prettiest boy in the world—you're the only boy in the world.” You say it with a kiss, lips just as soft as the words leaving them. It shocks him, though he accepts and gives it back.

You close your eyes, laying your chest against his—he keeps his open to look at you. Observing and assessing.

You’ve truly become a whole other person altogether. A far cry from the tough hero you once were—the one who’d beat him within an inch of his life and leave him to choke on the blood.

“Will you stay with me today?” you ask against his lips—playing with his hair, looping the curly tresses around your fingers.

There’s a neediness to your voice, a certain desperation, a sadness—something lonely and something that reminds him all too much of himself. He feels both a strong urge to reject and soothe it all at the same time.

“No, I gotta go,” he says despite it. He had business.

You hide your face in his neck and continue with your tracing, now on the scrapes striping his throat where he’s raked his nails time and time again. “When will you come back?” Your tone comes out even sweeter, only a murmur mushed against his skin.

It nearly makes his heart twist. “It’s better I don’t answer that.”

It’s funny. Though the thought had struck him, he didn’t gauge any ill intentions. You could be asking, acting, plotting some escape based on the hours of his absence—yet somehow, with the way you nuzzle into him like that, as though you’re pouring your all-too-candid grief into him, he can't sense any other ulterior motive.

“Last time you left at this hour, you came back all beaten and bruised,” you mutter, now with a hint of bitterness—as if you’re cursing whoever hurt him under your breath.

It’s ironic. He sneers lazily, almost fondly, at the old memory. “You’re the one who used to beat and bruise me, remember?”

He’s truly curious if you do. Or if something’s spirited your past life away and left you like this—no longer an aspiring young hero, but something whose only value is warming his bed at night.

You arise, an appalled look of affront upon your face.

“No, that can’t be right,” you very nearly cry, as if the very thought was killing you. “I would never hurt you—I love you too much.”

Apparently, you don’t remember who you were at all.

“Love me?” he all but croaks. It’s a laughable prospect, and yet he doesn’t even smile. There’s something awful in his gut that prevents him. “Don't be stupid. You can't love me.”

Your face doesn’t drop its grimace, only further tears with forlorn outrage. “Of course, I love you!" you insist. "You’re my whole reason for living...”

You look so despaired—wrecked from his dismissal. The tears well quickly then slip down your face just as fast—and yet it isn’t the same crying as you used to. This time, it’s quiet—in wait or in dread as you beg the question, 

“Don't you love me?”

It’s an unexpected one, and it quickly proves to be an existential one—even more so than your unnerving confession. Despite not wanting to, it leaves him to dig through the muck in his head he’d long ignored, down in the dark where he’d tried burying the truth he'd felt oncoming. He'd wanted to deny it, reject it, amend it, simply because it confused him too much to acknowledge—complicated things—changed things he didn’t want or need changing.

He wonders if it’s somehow proof of fate—even though he despises such a concept. That, no matter how much you practice free will, no matter how many knots you make upon the red string, the world will pull and straighten it out, and you’re left to realize you’d brought it all on yourself.

First, he took your quirk, then he took your body—your mind shortly followed—and now it seems he’s managed to take your heart, too. 

There’s nothing left of you that isn’t his. 

There was a time he’d frolic at the thought of having reduced you to such a pathetic ghost in a shell—back then, he’d do anything to destroy you—he’d surely shatter you into a million little scattered pieces if presented with the chance, make sure you were broken for good. 

But that was the old him. Or rather, that was his dream for the old you—the hero he loathed down to his rotten core.

But the pretty misty-eyed thing looking down at him now, aching for his answer, wasn’t that person anymore.

And the truth is, the person you are now scares him more than that hero ever did. 

You were… well, you were the person who warms his bed at night, the person who traces his scars and plays with his hair—the person who wraps themselves around him and keeps him from falling apart when he stumbles through the door into the tiny little room he keeps you a prisoner in. You're his.

This time, his heart does twist. He’s never before spoken the words that dance on his tongue, or if he has, they’ve been long forgotten and come out as dust balls as he affirms them now, 

“Yes. I love you.”

There’s a flash of hope in your eyes, though it just as quickly diminishes—as if you don’t believe him.

Your lip warbles as you confirm it, “No, you don’t.”

More tears run silently down the tracks on your cheeks, gathering at the tip of your chin before dripping upon his chest—each one like a gunshot through something hollow.

“If you did, you wouldn’t go. You wouldn’t leave me here in this room, all alone.” Your nails curl into your palms where they rest atop him. You bow your head as though you can’t bear to look at him, as if it hurts. The next words come out beneath your breath, “How am I supposed to compete with the whole world?”

You’re making him feel like dying. The continuous twists of his heart feel as if you’re about to tear it right out of his chest.

He sits up and lifts your face. It’s strange, even with his two-finger gloves on. He doesn’t think he’s ever held you like this. Though, suppose it’s been a night of many firsts already. And here comes another,

“As far as I’m concerned, you are my world.”

There you are, the one thing he doesn’t wish to destroy.

Your sore eyes become round, then swell with different tears. There’s a hitch in your breath as you sigh through a shuddering sob, throwing your arms around his neck and clinging to him tightly—your body jostling while you rub your wet face into his neck, holding him close for comfort as if you're scared to ever let go.

He returns the gesture, though somewhat hesitantly, wrapping his arms around you and laying his head to rest against your shoulder.

And then, as he holds you—for the first time ever, fear of actually losing the fight ahead strikes him.

He hadn’t much cared about the outcome before. Either he’d destroy or be destroyed.

This wasn’t as simple. As said earlier, this complicated things.

But then again, it was even more of a reason to go.

“But I still have to leave.” 

You part from him—the betrayal in your tone demanding his justification, “Why?”

Suppose, in some ways, this actually made things simpler—as that was a question he had no problem answering.

“‘Cause there are monsters outside…” He rests his forehead upon yours, gazing back into those terribly glassy eyes looking back at him as he speaks to you about your dear old colleagues. “Monsters who want nothing but to take you away from me.”

If only they could see you now, they’d know… you no longer want to leave him.

“So I have to go out there and make sure they have no chance,” he explains, almost like a vow, “You’re mine, and I’ll destroy anyone who says otherwise to keep you that way.”

The way your eyes melt makes him feel all fuzzy. It’s a special type of glee, a victory before the battle even begins—to see you root for him—so deep in love with him that you’ve forgotten you’re celebrating the onset of death to all of your former friends.

They probably wouldn’t be able to take you away from him even if they somehow managed to invade this very room. You’d sooner die than betray him.

And that makes him feel all the more ready for the war ahead.

“So kiss me good luck, and I’ll come right back to you soon.”

♡ SHIGARAKI TOMURA ♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist

i'll have to do a drawing of that with mha x cult of the land !✨🤌

Birthday Treat (Tomura Shigaraki x CamGirl!Reader)

Words: 3.6k

Minors DNI

Tw: sex work, toys/interactive machine, "senpai", one mention of Shigaraki wanting to be called niichan, anal (plug, gaping, mastrubation), belly bulge, reader has pierced nips, soft degradation, multiple orgasms (both), mastrubating, delusional, softness too, squirting

Teaser: "I want to see," he says, his heart is pounding in his chest. He does not even blink, not wanting to miss a second of you. You are a goddess to him. So nice and so pretty and he is at your feet.

Note: It's my angel's birthday! (In an hour) You can send me Shiggy thirsts and headcanons and requests for my man's day 💜

Tomura is nervous.

It is his birthday and he splurged a little. Well, Toga said birthdays are there to treat yourself to something and he did exactly that. It wasn't cheap but his birthday seems like a valid excuse after what Toga had said.

When he booked the private session with you his heart raced at you sending him a private message alone. He was sure he wouldn't survive actually talking to you. You are so damn sweet in your text, but he knew that before. He never misses your late night streams, it's the only way he falls asleep without taking meds... or drugs. You sent him a form he had to fill out before your session.

What do you want me to call you?

What outfit do you want me to wear? With options.

What toys do you want me to use?

It had a detailed instruction on how to establish the connection to your interactive toys and some general info about taking screenshots and payment. He didn't know at the time that by purchasing a private session he would get live long access to message you privately. He is still thrilled about that. Maybe he could get you to like him.

He took three hours to fill out the form (he had to make smart choices) and he jerked off right after, all the images it conjured in his brain making him rock hard.

He is half hard now already. And he is just nervous. He has written in the chat and interacted with you before but never talked to you.

The loading screen now beams with cute pink graphics. Then, you appear and Tomura holds his breath.

You are on the floor sitting criss-crossed on a fluffy blanket with cute fairy lights behind you and your stuffed animals. You are wearing the way too tight white crop top and way too skimpy pink thong he picked out. Your hard nipples and their piercings are well visible, your beautiful tits perked up in the tightness of the small fabric. Your makeup is simple but cute, your hair is held back by your kitten ear headset. The white thigh highs make Tamura's cock twitch. Your thighs. He needs to know what they feel like.

"Heyy," you say, smiling. "How are you doing, senpai?"

Tomura filled in for you to call him senpai. He knew if he made you call him niichan he would go insane. Maybe next birthday.

"Hi. I'm… okay," his voice betrays him.

"Don't be nervous. It's just me," you smile. "Let's talk a bit first to loosen you up, yeah? How was your day?"

"Uneventful. It's my birthday."

Your eyes widen for a second. "Uneventful and it's your birthday?! Tell me you at least had some cake?"

"No," he chuckles softly. "Just played some games."

"Well, I'm going to make sure that it is special then, senpai," you say sultry. "What do you want me to do first?"

"Can I see your tits, please?"

You smile. Your hands with the cute pink nail design come up the sides of your body as you move to kneel instead. You brush over your breasts, squeezing them together in the thin fabric. Tomura is nearly drooling.

You take the hem of the crop top and slowly pull it up. Your tits bounce free, jingling so beautifully. The crop top is sitting above your tits, a sense of obscenity in it that he likes. You are about to take the shirt off but he stops you.

"Leave it like this."

You nod, compliant as a puppy, and move closer to the camera. You present your beautiful tits to him, bounce on your knees so they do too.

"You're so beautiful,' Tomura breathes and his hand now finally moves to his cock. 

"Thank you, senpai," you utter softly, squeezing your tits together for him and pinching your nipples.

"Are you wearing the plug I picked out?" His voice is timid.

"Of course, senpai. Wanna see?"

"I want to see," he says, his heart is pounding in his chest. He does not even blink, not wanting to miss a second of you. You are a goddess to him. So nice and so pretty and he is at your feet.

You turn around and your ass lifts up, your knees stay together at your chest, causing your core to peak out between your plush thighs. Your ass is just so sexy too. Tomura is no ass or tits or thighs guy, he is a you guy. Just you. You take a pillow and lay your head down on it. Tomura switches to the close up shot for a second, just needing to see your face a moment longer.

You push your panties aside revealing your cute cunt and the pink glass heart sitting above your puckered hole. You clench and it moves and Tomura nearly moans.

"Senpai?" You say breathy. "I was so happy about all the stuff you picked," you say genuinely.

"Yeah?"

"Hm," you hum. "You dressed me up so cute."

His body fills with warmth. "Pull your thong down but don't take it off."

You peel the pink fabric to sit at your knees then brush over your cunt.

"Did I allow you to do that?" He says breathlessly, eyes fixed on the close up shot to see your reaction. A deep blush creeps into your cheeks.

"I am sorry, senpai. Forgive me, please."

"I do," Tomura smiles. "Pull the plug out for me, baby."

You acknowledge his request with a soft moan and push yourself up, grabbing the bottle of lube. He could choose the consistency and naturally took the extra sticky one.

You squeeze some of it onto the plug then use one finger to swirl it around your stretched asshole. 

"Your nails are so cute this time." He knows you got them done just yesterday. He never misses when you post on Instagram.

"Thank you!" You smile and your breath hitches as you pull at the pink heart. You spread your legs further, the thong stretching around your thighs as you do.

Tomura watches with hungry eyes how you move the plug in a circled motion then slowly pull at it. It looks like your little ass does not want to let the plug go and he bites his own hand to stay quiet. You moan softly and it finally pops out, strings of the stucky lube going from the pink glass to your clenching hole. You lay it down and spread your ass cheeks, presenting to him how beautiful your ass was gaping and clenching.

"S'beautiful," he hums. 

"Wanna be filled again, senpai! Will you fuck my ass now? Please?" You beg, voice so pretty and slutty.

Shit. Tomura snaps his hand away from stroking his cook but it was too late. Strings of cum splash onto his stomach. He hardly manages to stay quiet. "Yes," his voice pitched. "Show me the dildos again, sweetheart."

You sit and reach to the side getting the three he selected into view. They are about the same length but vary in thickness. One is anatomically correct, the other has ridges and bumps and the third is curved to hit your special spot.

"Hmm–"

"Senpai," you blink so sweetly and shift to kneel again with your legs spread, your exposed cunt on the blanket. "I got a delivery today. Maybe you wanna try this one out with me for the first time?" You pull a red dildo into view and sit it down between your legs. It reaches all the way to your belly button, ridiculously thick and with ridges. "But only if you want to, I'll do whatever you want."

If you could see his face… Tomura clickes the shortcut and takes a screencap. He has a size kink? He is going insane.

"Let's use that one," he heaves.

You are excited about that and he smiles.

"I need a quick moment, senpai. Tell me are you enjoying this so far?" You start to set up the fucking machine.

"I do. You are perfect," he sighs. "I enjoy this so much," he lets his head fall back against his gaming chair. 

"That makes me so happy, birthday boy."

He smiles.

"Apologies, senpai."

"Its fine." It really is. His stomach is feeling all funny and it's not because of his cock being rock hard again. "You can call me that, too."

He watches how you adjust the camera, getting in the position he will fuck you in. He chose that one too. He wants you to lay on your side with your pretty ass sticking out so he can see your thighs and your dangling feet as he controls the thrusts of the machine going into your puckered hole.

"Can you see me alright, senpai?" You check in with him.

"Yes. All perfect."

"Let's test the connection," you say and your voice has a little edge. He watches how you bend forward, opening your mouth in front of the monstrous dildo with your tongue sticking out.

"Fuck," Tomura hisses but he knows what he has to do. He presses the button on his phone that makes the machine go forward and the gigantic head of the dildo pushes into your mouth, stuffing it full. Your moan is muffled. Tomura now retrieves the machine and pushes it forward again, faster now. Your eyes cross as you gag. Tomura moans softly hearing you gasp as he pulls the dildo back.

"Works," you heave, licking up the saliva that splurged. "Senpai, will you go slow at first?" You bat your lashes at the close up shot. "It's so big and my ass is so tight."

"I can't promise you."

You bite your lip at that. "I'll be brave for you, senpai, it's your birthday."

"Good girl," he says and his stomach clenches. He wanted to say that to you for so long.

You coat the dildo and your stretched hole in the sticky lube and line it up. "Fuck me, senpai, please," you say and brace yourself.

Tomura uses his thumb to move the machines forward while his other hand mimics the speed.

You moan and close your eyes as he invades you, pushing the dildo into your ass. You hook one arm around your knees, your pretty pink nails digging into the white fabric of the thigh highs as you hold your legs away. "Senpai," you whine.

"You're doing so well, slut."

You whimper.

He pulls back then enters a little more as he pushes in again, your puckered hole stretching around the red silicone. He pushes back again and now drives the machine forward a bit quicker. You yelp and move forward.

"Don't do that!" Tomura warns.

"M'so sorry, senpai! So big!" You squeal and use the hand that is not holding your legs to squeeze more lube on yourself and then hold onto the wall so you can resist the push.

"Good slut," he says and you look at the camera, giving him a strained smile.

He starts again and this time he gets the cock halfway in. He has no idea how it fits and judging from your face neither do you.

He fucks you like this, halfway pushing the dildo into your ass, making you moan and squirm. He is not holding his moans back anymore either.

"You sound so pretty," you whimper. "Makes me so horny, senpai! Fuck me so good– So big… so big… am so full;" you babble. "More! Please, more!"

"Are you sure you can take more, baby?"

"For you! I am sure! Force it inside, senpai! Please!"

He chuckles. His head is hot, he might have a fever. And does just as you ask. You cry out, holding your hair back as your headset slips off your head. You can't hold yourself up anymore and now he only sees your face in the close up shot. Your mouth forms an O. He watches how shaking hands fix the headset on your head again.

He almost comes again but stops touching himself.

"You are taking it so well. All the way," he cooes. "You like that, huh? Being stretched so much, filled to the brim."

"I do, senpai!"

"Of course you anal whore." He now sets the machine into an automatic fast pace. You take the entire thing… god knows how. "So sexy!" It pushes into you with such a stretch to your hole that it looks airtight. 

"W-wanna--s-show you," you heave and hold the camera in your hand. You lay down on your back, making sure the dildo does not slip from your greedy hole. You hold the camera up over your lower half and Tomura holds his breath. No way. No "fucking! Hell," he curses and he cums despite not even touching his dick. He's sweaty and whiny, bucking his hips up. Tomura takes his phone again and pushes into you slowly, watching your tummy bulge with the movement. It was so visible, so deep.

"Fuck, baby!"

"You sound so pretty when you cum," you whine. "Please cum again for me, senpai. Wanna hear you again."

You press down on your stomach and it is even more predominant now. You cry out when he suddenly goes so much faster, drunk on seeing how absolutely filled you are. This is stuff he thought only happens in hentai. You make all his dreams come true.

You throw your head back and your breaths come more rigid. Is it finally time? "Senpai!" You cry. "Gonna cum! Gonna cum! Fuck! Cum with me together! Please!"

Tomura is stroking his aching cock relentlessly. Who is he to deny you? He would not dream of it. "Cum for me," Tomura orders. "Keep your eyes on the damn close up!"

You angle the camera you are holding so he can see your core and twisted your head to look at the close up. You are so happy to comply. You get louder then suddenly quiet.

"Thank you," you press over your lips and come undone, shaking and moaning, your whole body jerking. Tomura comes again at the same time and you both moan together.

He pulls the dildo out and despite you still shaking and being utterly fucked out, you make sure he sees your gaping and abused asshole. He takes another screen cap.

"Such a good anal slut," Tomura breathes. "So fucking perfect. You love getting your ass used like that, so much, don't you?"

You nod and whimper.

"Look how wet you are, shit. I'm getting hard again." It is not just the sticky lube that drops from your folds but your very essence.

You finally sit up, hair a mess and face in a deep blush. You are just the cutest when you look so fucked out.

"That was so hot," you giggle, drunk from your orgasm. He smiles. "Want me to–"

"Want to use the vibe now."

You bite your lip and nod, looking lost for a moment as you scramble for it.

"What's up?" He smiles.

"I needed that orgasm so badly, senpai," you blush. "I feel so good now because of you."

He doesn't know what to answer. The feeling in his tummy is getting worse.

You position yourself again, slipping the pink egg into your soaking cunt. You spread it so he can see your clit.

"Bet you taste so good."

"I do."

"No doubt, baby."

He starts to pleasure you, starting the vibrations low then picking up. He only has an hour with you, otherwise he would torture you for hours. Not because he is cruel but because he is selfish, needing to hear your pleasured noises and see you squirm.

Your pussy is so ridiculously wet and sticky. Your juices all flow into your gaping ass hole and it is just a sight. Another screen cap.

"Can I r-rub my clit, senpai?" You ask.

"Yes."

You do so, vigorously flicking the bundled nerves.

"Wanna see you cum again, baby." He knows you are close, he knows you so well. Your pussy is absolutely filthy.

You and him come again at the same time. Your fucked out face worth another screen cap.

"Now ride the skin-colored cock for me, yeah? But drink something real quick, pretty girl." You are sweaty and blushing hard, breathing heavily from how intense your last two orgasms were. All because of him.

You smile and sip on your drink. "Shall I face you or away?"

"Face me. Wanna see your tits bounce, slut."

You get onto your feet and squad down on the toy, meaning and hissing. You start to ride him, bounce on his cock until your tits are swinging. It looked so good.

"Pretty girl! Squeeze those tits! Yes, just like that. Show em to me. How good am I fucking you?"

"So! Good, senpai! Can't even think… all fucked dumb on your cock" you whimper, blissed out. "Gonna cum again."

"Cum again, baby. Need to see how your legs shake, do it. Just for me."

"J'us f'you," you slur and cry out, shaking again, fisting the fluffy blanket. "Thank you!"

"Fuck!" He comes again and is starting to feel light headed. "So good for me, slut! Such a good girl," his eyes are rolled back and he babbles. "So perfect."

He expects you to tell him that his time is over. His heart breaks with that thought. Tomura is covered in heaps of his own cum, his cock is aching and he doesn't want to stop being with you.

You need a moment to regain your composure and he is proud about that, smiling softly. He did that. You pull the dildo out.

"Lick it clean, will you?" He chuckles, high on endorphins.

You let out a gullible giggle and do so, flicking your tongue on the wet toy, throating it until you gag.

He can't move, head leaning back with his hair sticking to his skin, his legs spread wide and abs tensed. His own cum is everywhere.

"Good slut."

"Birthday boy?" You say. "Do you have some more time?"

"For you always." Did you really say that or was he so out of his mind?

He watches how you take the camera and move to your desk. You lay down a towel before sitting in your pink gamer chair, making sure he can see you properly again.

You are his dream girl. You just are meant for him! He is so sure. You are supposed to belong to him. He knows it deep in his bones.

Your legs spread wide over the arms of the chair, exposing your swollen cunt and you rub your clit. "This is my birthday gift to you," you coo and start to finger yourself, then use the other curved dildo he picked.

The faces you make are just art, just perfect. You are so perfect. Tomura's cock doesn't want to be touched again but he just has to. He is being so loud, moaning along with you as he strokes his aching and overstimmed cock.

"Call me slut again, please, senpai. It sounds so good!" 

"Does it, slut? You are such a pretty, dumb whore!" He nearly says he loves you.

"H-hap-PY birth— day," you squeal and liquid shoots from your cunt, your legs snap and shake, eyes roll back.

"Fuck!" He cums again too. It should be impossible but strings of white seeds splurge from his red, swollen tip. He might have lost consciousness for a moment. You don't squirt a lot on stream, it was hard for you to get to that build up you once said but he made you squirt.

When he opens his eyes again you are not sitting there anymore, his heart drops for a second but then you come back with a half eaten cupcake and a candle. The crop top is still rutted up on your chest, your boobs exposed and seem like you forget it.

"It's the only one left," you apologize, chuckling, and put the candle in the cake, lighting it.

You are perfect. You are damn perfect. The cutest girl on this planet.

"Make a wish in 1,2,3." You blow the candle out then clap your hands.

"Thank you," Tomura rasps, his voice so faint.

"Senpai, drink some water, okay? Take a nice shower and have a snack." You smile, utterly exhausted yourself. "It was so much fun with you. I hope I'll see you again. Text me later, okay? So I know you are okay."

"Will do. Take care of yourself, too, baby."

You nod, blow a kiss and the stream ends.

》》》》

You are on his screen again that night. You are still in the thigh highs with a big black sweater, all cozy just playing the sims on stream, talking and answering some questions.

He is staring at the private chat on his phone. What is he going to say? You asked him to text… but what should he say?

(Y/N): What did you wish for? 

The message pops up suddenly and his head snaps up seeing you are holding your phone. He is online, which you can see but not typing, for 10 minutes now. You could tell he is a little shy, just helping him out. He types now.

Decay44: Can't tell you. Won't come true if I do. How are you?

(Y/N): sleepy. And you, senpai?

He can see you are tired. So stupidly cute. He wants to wrap his arms around you.

Decay44: I can't move tbh… But I am happy. Wanna see what you did to me?

You smile.

(Y/N): I do wanna see 👀

He looks up and you do too, smirking. Some people in the chat ask what you are reading.

"Nothing," you purse your lips.

He sends you the picture he took right after, still sitting there. All the cum and how red his cock was just deserved to be preserved. He made sure to not catch his scars of course.

He can see the blush that creeps into your cheeks, how you lick your lips looking at your phone.

(Y/N): you're so hot, senpai ♡

You sigh and throw your head back, "seems like you will get a show actually. I just got incredibly horny."

You are his girl.

Enough to Go By (Chapter 11) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Your best friend vanished on the same night his family was murdered, and even though the world forgot about him, you never did. When a chance encounter brings you back into contact with Shimura Tenko, you'll do anything to make sure you don't lose him again. Keep his secrets? Sure. Aid the League of Villains? Of course. Sacrifice everything? You would - but as the battle between the League of Villains and hero society unfolds, it becomes clear that everything is far more than you or anyone else imagined it would be. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Chapter 11

“Hey, there you are!” Spinner spots you and Tomura first as you step through the portal. “Twice is on his way. We thought you two were never going to show up!”

Tomura lets go of your hand and peels off his gloves, heading for the pile of gear that contains the rest of the hands and his coat. He put the hand he calls Father on his face before you left the apartment. “Kurogiri was busy.”

“Sure he was.” On the far corner of the wall, Dabi is rolling his eyes. “We all know what you two were busy doing.”

Your face heats up, but you’re behind your veil, and Tomura’s busy securing a set of hands over his neck, covering both the bandage and the mark you left on the other side. Nobody else seems too interested in joining Dabi in picking on you, although Magne’s ribbing him for supposed jealousy over his own lack of a cute girlfriend. Toga is studying you. “You changed your costume,” she says, and you hold your breath while she renders her verdict. “It’s cute.”

Compress drifts closer to investigate, too. “It’s an improvement. What’s the occasion?”

“We’re meeting somebody in an official capacity. I just thought I shouldn’t wear street clothes.”

Your costume upgrade isn’t much, and it took a while to put together. You’ve still got the grey veil and crown of thorns, but underneath it you’ve added a grey long-sleeved tunic you thrifted, leggings you bought, and boots you already had. Then you decided that the tunic was a little shapeless and cinched it at the waist with a red scarf. Worst comes to worst, you can use it as a tourniquet. You were worried about what Tenko would think of the entire effect, but when you showed him before Kurogiri came to get the two of you, you could tell he was pleased. Pleased enough to kiss you over it, although it took a while to make it work around the veil.

The aesthetics of your costume aren’t the important part. There’s a thin backpack over your shoulders, completely hidden by the back of the veil, which contains your best approximation of an EMT kit, and there’s a spare suture kit taped to your thigh, out of sight under the tunic. That was Tenko’s idea. He doesn’t want Overhaul to guess what role you play in the League.

And apparently he’s not the only one who’s been thinking along those lines. “It’s a good thing you changed your costume,” Spinner says. You look questioningly at him before remembering that he can’t see your face under the veil. “We were thinking. Shigaraki wants you to stay undercover, which means we can’t use your name in front of outsiders. And that means you need –”

“A code name!” Toga chimes in. “We all talked about it –”

“Nobody liked my ideas,” Dabi mutters.

You don’t even want to know. “And we all agreed,” Compress continues. “Unless Shigaraki has already given you one –”

You look to Tomura. This looks like it’s news to him, just like it’s news to you, and he only ever calls you by name. He shakes his head. “Excellent,” Compress says. “Spinner’s idea was chosen. Spinner should reveal it.”

Spinner looks a little nervous. “We already use a nickname for you,” he starts, “but ‘Saint’ sounds really dumb for a code name. So we decided instead – Saintess.”

It’s quiet for a second. “That’s not a word,” Tomura says.

“It is! We looked it up,” Toga sings out. “It’s like actor and actress, or villain and villainess. Saint, Saintess. It’s perfect, don’t you think?”

You’re not sure if you like it. It feels like kind of a dig against you. More than ‘kind of’, if you’re being honest. “It suits your look,” Magne points out. “And your attitude, since the boss wouldn’t dream of letting you get your hands dirty.”

“My hands will get dirty the first time one of you gets hurt,” you say. “You have the important work. My job is to make sure you can keep doing it.”

“Spoken like a true Saintess,” Compress proclaims. “Shigaraki. Your thoughts?”

“Yeah. She’s your girlfriend,” Dabi says. “You really want to let Spinner name her?”

Tomura considers it for a moment. “If it’s a good name, it doesn’t matter who it comes from. And it’s better to be named by your friends than your enemies.” He nods to Spinner. “It’s a good name. Call her Saintess from now on.”

Toga wandered over to one of the windows while Tomura was talking, but now she hurries back. “I see Twice! He’s got the other guy with him.”

“Places,” Tomura orders, and the League scatters to the sides. He reaches out and links little fingers with you. “You’re with me. This way.”

The League arranges themselves on and around a pile of shipping containers, set up in a rough pyramid. Tomura settles on one just below the highest level, and you sit down on one just below his, slightly off to the side so you won’t block his view. Tomura looks dissatisfied. “You should be up here,” he says. “But it’ll draw his attention to you. I’m not risking that.”

“I’m fine where I am,” you say. You glance up at him. “How’s your neck?”

“It’ll be fine,” he says, which means it hurts. You’ll look at it later, once this is over. “What about you?”

“I’m fine. You did a great job with the aftercare.”

Tomura’s face flushes, and you remind yourself to be careful what you say. The hand over his face doesn’t hide him nearly as well as your veil hides you. “Tell me what your friend said about them again,” he says. “The Hassaikai.”

“The new head – the one we’re meeting – he isn’t liked the way the old one was,” you say. “Someone who worked for both of them called him a monster. After he left the gang.”

“Yakuza don’t defect. For someone to do something like that, it must be serious.” Tenko’s expression is grim behind the hand. He raises his voice. “Be careful. Twice is trustworthy, but the one he’s bringing isn’t.”

“Understood.”

“You got it, boss,” Magne says, winking.

“For sure, Tomura-kun!” Toga chirps. She’s the only person other than you who uses Tomura’s given name. “I can’t wait to meet our new friend!”

You wish you had Toga’s optimism. Instead, all you feel as the head of the Shie Hassaikai walks into the warehouse is apprehension. You know you shouldn’t. Everyone here is battle-tested, except you. Everybody here has a quirk, except you. They can handle themselves, and they have the yakuza boss outnumbered seven to one – and if things wind up, it’s your job to settle them down.

Overhaul wears a mask over the lower half of his face, and thin white gloves on both hands. Is his quirk in his hands, like Tomura’s is? He’s peering up at Tomura and the rest of you, only the barest spark of interest in his eyes. “So this is where you’ve been hiding. I expected a little more.”

“It takes some time for an organization to adjust following a change in leadership,” Tomura says. “I’m sure you understand.”

Overhaul inclines his head. “Of course. Still, I expected more from All For One’s student.”

His voice is dry, almost inflectionless. Tomura chuckles. “And yet you’re coming to me, not the other way around. Explain that.”

Overhaul’s eyes started on Tomura. Now they’re shifting, from Magne and Spinner and Dabi on one side to Compress and Toga and Twice on the other. Then back to Tomura. Then down to you. His eyes are still on you as he addresses Tomura again. “To my generation, your master was nothing more than a dark legend, but the elders believed we still had reason to fear him. It seems they were right.”

To fear him, not to fear Tomura. Overhaul’s not scared of Tomura, and he doesn’t seem worried about just how badly outnumbered he is. Your stomach clenches. “With All Might gone, the underworld is in chaos,” Overhaul continues. “And it’ll stay that way, so long as the question of who the next leader will be remains in doubt.”

“I’m the next leader.” Tomura’s confidence sounds unshakeable. “All Might fell because of the League’s actions. The heroes are rattled because of what we’ve done.”

He gestures at all of you. “We’ve got victories to our name. What have you got?”

“All Might didn’t fall. He was forced to retire. And it was by your master’s hand, not yours.” Overhaul’s gaze drifts across the League, lingering on each person for a few moments, you included. “Every time you’ve won, you’ve taken losses equal to or greater than the victory you’ve claimed. You still have outside help – you don’t look nearly as filthy as I’d expect for staying three weeks in a warehouse without running water – but it’s much less than you had before.”

“Congratulations. You have eyes.” Tomura’s voice is sharp. “But again – you came to us. Not the other way around. I’m the next leader. You can join me or you can stay out of my way.”

“Let’s assume you’re correct, and you are the next leader. What’s your goal?”

Tomura scoffs. “To expose the so-called heroic system for what it is, and bring it down.”

“How?”

The question rings out, and it’s met with silence. Too long of a silence. Tomura regroups, but not fast enough. “All Might –”

“One hero, who would have retired anyway. Others will come to take his place,” Overhaul says. “You have ideals, but ideals are useless without a plan. And I have a plan.”

Tomura’s jaw is clenched, and you see Spinner’s shoulders stiffen, see a blue spark flicker around Dabi’s fingers. Useless is never anything but inflammatory, and you know enough about the League at this point to know that almost all of them feel like they’ve been thrown away. You speak before anyone else can. “It’s nice that you have a plan,” you say to Overhaul. Nice isn’t the best word, but you’re thinking on your feet. “That’s less important than your goal. If your goal doesn’t align with ours, we should go our separate ways in peace.”

Overhaul studies you. “We do share a goal,” he says after a moment. “The destruction of the current system, and a return to the old ways. We can assist each other in that regard.”

“How?”

“My plan is sound, but my organization is small, with few flashy victories. In order to secure more support –”

“You want our name,” Tomura says. “Why should we loan it to you?”

Overhaul doesn’t answer him. “Put yourselves under me,” he says, and the League reacts exactly how you’d expect them to. Overhaul ignores them. “I’ll ensure you’re better taken care of than this. In exchange, you’ll reap the rewards of my plan to return to the old order.”

“And take orders from you?” Tomura’s voice is full of scorn. “I don’t think so.”

“It isn’t a request.” Overhaul shakes his head. “You lack the vision necessary to make your childish dreams a reality. Since your master didn’t teach you properly, it falls to someone else to rein you in.”

It’s not a request. If it’s not a request, it’s because he thinks he has the upper hand. Why does he think that? “Someone ought to rein you in,” Magne says. She’s on her feet, and a bolt of terror shoots through you. “I’ll put you in your place.”

She activates her quirk, and Overhaul’s yanked towards her from across the warehouse. It surprises him, but not enough. You see him yank off one of his sheer gloves, extend his hand, making contact with Magne’s forearm before her support item can strike the side of his head. He touches her, and then –

Spinner, Toga, and Twice all cry out, but it’s too late. You can barely make sense of what you’re seeing. Dabi looks up at you, shouts at you to do something, but Magne’s beyond your help, beyond anyone’s. Even if you had a healing quirk, you’d need something to heal, and the top half of Magne’s body is gone. All that’s left are her support items and her legs, which teeter horribly in place, twitching, before falling limply to the floor.

Everyone’s frozen – you, Dabi, even Tomura. The only person who moves is the person who’s close enough to contain the situation. Compress lunges forward. A gunshot rings out from somewhere, and you see his arm jerk as his hand makes contact with Overhaul. His quirk should contain Overhaul instantly, but nothing happens. Overhaul seizes him by the wrist with the same hand that killed Magne and blows his arm apart.

He screams, and the sound breaks your paralysis and Tomura’s at the same time. You both leap into motion, Tomura headed for Overhaul, you aiming for Compress, and for a few seconds, you’re running side by side. A second gunshot rings out, from the same direction as before. You know who they’re aiming at, whoever they are. You throw yourself forward, getting ahead of Tomura by a single step, and the bullet tears through your veil, sinks into your shoulder. It doesn’t hurt like you expected it to. It feels more like a sting.

There’s a third shot, but Tomura’s aware now. He dodges, closing the gap between himself and Overhaul, and you readjust your trajectory and race to Compress’s side.

The floor’s covered in his blood and Magne’s, but you drop to your knees at his side anyway. There’s an explosion somewhere in the offing, and for a moment, you’re dragged back to Kamino – but you aren’t there, and you’ve got a job to do. You pull your backpack from beneath the veil, unzip it, and start pressing sterile pads down over the open wound. Compress howls, tries to squirm away, but someone pins him in place. Spinner, who’s come to help. You don’t have even a second to thank him. Your entire world narrows down to finding a way to control the bleeding, to secure the bandages, to make sure the job Overhaul started isn’t finished on your watch.

You don’t see what happens with Overhaul. You hear pieces of it, enough to know that the Hassaikai is withdrawing for now, that Tomura killed one of them, that the not-a-request is still on the table and Overhaul fully expects Tomura to agree once he’s had time to think. And then he’s leaving. Overhaul is leaving, and Magne is dead – but Overhaul’s quirk isn’t what he did to Compress and Magne, is it? That can’t be it. If that was it, they’d call it something else. If that’s not all it is, is there something more he can do?

“Wait!” The words leave your mouth at a volume you didn’t expect, and Overhaul’s progress towards the hole he punched in the wall stops. He turns back to face you, and you seize the chance to speak before anyone else can stop you. “You can fix people, can’t you?”

Overhaul inclines his head. That’s as close to a yes as you’re going to get. You swallow hard. “Please,” you say, “bring Magne back.”

“Why should I do that?” Overhaul’s voice is flat. “He attacked first.”

“She did,” you admit.

“And Shigaraki killed one of my subordinates. Wouldn’t you say we’re even?”

“No,” you say. Overhaul tilts his head to one side, studying you. “You called the person Tomura killed a subordinate. Magne is our friend. We made a mistake, but you can save her. Please, bring her back.”

Don’t disagree with him, but make your point. Don’t look helpless, but hand him as much power as you can. Be respectful, deferential, but not submissive. Every de-escalation skill you’ve ever practiced flashes through your head, and it’ll all be useless if any of the other members of the League open their mouths, Tomura included. But they’re quiet, for once, and Overhaul’s still looking at you. What happens to Magne now is up to him – and up to you, if you’re able to convince him.

“If I bring him back, I leave a valuable piece in Shigaraki’s hands, and I’m not interested in rewarding bad behavior,” he says. You nod. He’s not saying no yet. As long as he hasn’t said no, there’s a chance. “So I’ll make you a deal. If you value his life so much, then I’ll bring him back – and you’ll leave him here for the police to find.”

Your stomach lurches. “Decide quickly,” Overhaul says, and finally, he looks away from you. “As the leader, Shigaraki, the choice is yours.”

Tomura doesn’t hesitate. “Bring her back.”

Overhaul walks past you without looking at you again, to the same spot where Magne’s legs and support item lay in a pool of blood. He peels his glove off his hand and touches the puddle of blood and tissue. You don’t know how to explain what he’s doing, except that he’s reassembling her body, piece by piece. Someone throws up – Spinner, who at least has the presence of mind to turn away from Compress before he does it. Compress, and his missing arm. Why didn’t you negotiate for that as well? You’re an idiot. You’re out of your mind, and Compress is still losing blood. Your job still isn’t done.

You don’t look up again until you’ve packed enough sterile pads onto the stump of Compress’s arm that they don’t bleed through instantly, and when you look up, you find the rest of the League gathered around, and Overhaul’s minions standing back, guarding the exits. Twice is melting down. Toga’s trying to console him, but she looks furious herself, and Dabi’s expression is masklike, frozen. Tomura crouches next to you. “How is he?”

“I’ve secured it for now, but he needs those arteries clamped off. Does law enforcement know his face?” You see Tomura shake his head out of the corner of your eye. “If we take the mask off and lose some of the costume, I can take him to the clinic. They won’t ask questions.”

Tomura nods once. “I’ve called Kurogiri. He’ll take you there. Can you stay with him?”

“We can’t stay here,” Dabi interrupts sharply, before you can finish saying yes. “Half the prefecture heard that explosion. Where are we supposed to go?”

“Back to the waystation.” Tomura answers before you can offer. You would have. He looks to you. “Meet us back there as soon as you can get away.”

Warp gates begin to appear, engulfing the other members of the League, and you start removing the identifying features of Compress’s costume. Hat, waistcoat, tie, mask, the one remaining glove. Now he just looks like a normal guy. A guy who’s had a really awful accident. You pack up your medical kit, put your backpack on, and start pulling Compress to his feet. He doesn’t resist, exactly. It’s more that he just doesn’t try. “Leave me here. I lost my arm. My quirk. There’s no point to anything anymore.”

You’ve lived your whole life without a quirk. It’s not the end of the world. Sometimes people with quirks say the dumbest things. You chalk it up to blood loss and decide to ignore it. “I’m not leaving you behind. We’re going to get you patched up and get back to the others.

The warp gate appears and you drag Compress through it, the two of you emerging in the alleyway behind the clinic. You barely remember to take off the veil and crown and tuck them away before you and Compress make it to the waiting room. All you can think about is how you failed to negotiate for Compress’s arm. All you can think about is how you had to leave Magne behind.

You figured it might be a while before you got back to your apartment, but you weren’t counting on all the complications – the clinic’s short-staffed, and in order to circumvent the policy about sending major trauma to the ER unless there’s no choice, you hop in to help and free up a nurse-practitioner with a quirk that helps blood clot to tend to Compress. Unsurprisingly, there are questions about how Compress got the injury. You don’t feel any shame in saying that a villain did it.

About four hours in, you get a phone call on the clinic’s phone. The person who initially answers it tells you it’s your sister, which sounds not-right – Isuzu doesn’t know where you work, and if she wanted to talk to you, she’d call your phone, not the clinic’s. You pick up the call and hear Toga’s voice on the other end. “Tomura-kun wants to talk to you,” she says. She sounds miserable. “Hang on.”

Tomura doesn’t sound much better than her. “How is he?”

“As good as he can be. Once he’s hemodynamically stable they’ll let him go.” You hear the questioning sound Tomura makes and define your terms. “Once his blood volume’s a little more compatible with life. How are things back there?”

“Fucked.” There’s a light thud. You imagine Tomura flopping back against the wall. “Twice hasn’t quit freaking out. Dabi and Spinner are climbing the fucking walls. Toga is – I don’t know what. You need to come back soon. I don’t know what to do.”

“As soon as I can. But you do know what to do.” You try to think. “Tell them that he won’t get away with this. That we’ll make sure he answers for it. Make them believe you.”

You think of what you’ve seen from the League so far, how they’ve gone from at each other’s throats that first night in the bar to ready to fight for each other now. It’s because of Tomura, because of who he is. “You’ve always known how to do that.”

Someone shouts for you down the hall – something about a patient who needs a pelvic exam. You wince. “I have to go. I’ll call when we’re ready for – wait, how are you calling me? Whose phone is this?”

“Yours. You left it on the kitchen table.”

You did. You’re not under suspicion, but you didn’t want to risk anybody tracking your phone’s location. “I’ll call when we’re ready for a pickup. Soon.”

“Soon.” Tomura hangs up, and you head down the hall to talk a patient into a pelvic exam they really don’t want.

The nurse-practitioner who was looking after Compress really doesn’t want to let him go, but you manage to talk her into it, and you and Compress make it back to the alley and through the warp gate to your apartment. The mood within the apartment is palpable. Sadness. Frustration. Fury. With the number of unstable personalities in the League, it’s a miracle that no one’s trashed the place yet.

Dabi is sprawled on the couch, but even he’s not so much of an asshole that he’d make Compress stand. He gets up, and once Compress is lying down, he climbs up to sit on the back of the couch instead. He peers down at Compress. “You look like hell.”

“So would you.” Compress looks pretty sickeningly pale. “I lost my arm and my quirk.”

“Your quirk?” 

“He touched Overhaul. It should have worked,” Spinner says. “But it was after he got shot with one of those.”

He points at the coffee table. There’s a bright-red capsule sitting there. You’d say it was a bullet, except for the fact that it’s tipped with a needle. “What is that?”

“We don’t know,” Tomura says. He’s sitting on your kitchen table, legs crossed, elbows on his knees. “We need to find out.”

“I heard three shots.” Toga’s voice drifts out of the kitchen. When you take a peek, you find she and Twice lying on their backs on the tiles. “One hit Mr. Compress and one missed Tomura-kun. What about the third one?”

You become aware, suddenly, of a sore spot on your shoulder. “I think that was me.”

“Right,” Spinner says. “You and Shigaraki both ran. I saw you get in front of him. What happened to your quirk?”

You look blankly at him. Is it really possible that the League doesn’t know you’re quirkless? Tomura wouldn’t have told him. It doesn’t matter to him. You glance to Tomura. Tomura nods once, and you take a deep breath. No matter how many times you say it, it never gets easier. “I don’t have one.”

It’s quiet for a second. “Twice,” Dabi says, “pay up.”

“No fair,” Twice protests. “You bet she had a lame quirk, not that she didn’t have one at all.”

“Having no quirk is probably better than having a lame quirk,” Spinner says. You’d argue, except you have a vague idea of the hell that heteromorphs go through, and if Spinner would rather have your problem than his, you’re not going to judge him for it. “Healing quirks are really rare anyway. And I’ve heard they burn through tons of mana.”

“Even if you had one, it’s not like you could make somebody’s arm grow back,” Toga says practically. “Or somebody’s –”

She trails off. You know what she’s thinking of, because you’re thinking of it, too – what happened to Magne, something so sudden and catastrophic that it would take a miracle or turning back time to fix. You got a miracle, but you lost Magne anyway. Her arrest was reported on the news while you were still at the clinic. In the silence that falls, Tomura climbs down from the kitchen table and steps into the center of the room. “Three days from now I’ll tell Overhaul that we’re accepting his offer,” he says. No one says a word. “When we respond to what he did, we need to respond decisively. That means we need more information. And we need to know more about this.”

He points at the bullet on the coffee table. “Starting tomorrow, Compress will test his quirk on the hour, every hour, to see how fast it returns.”

“It won’t return.”

“We don’t know that yet,” Tomura says. He looks around at the rest of you. “Compress’s injury and what happened to Magne won’t go unanswered. But our answer will be the final word. Does anyone disagree?”

There’s silence. Tomura turns away and climbs back onto the kitchen table, assuming the same position as before. You check one last time on your patient, note that he’s shivering, and find a blanket to drape over him. Dabi is peering through your closed blinds, down at the street; Spinner’s sprawled in one of your chairs, lost in thought. Kurogiri is wherever Kurogiri goes when Tomura doesn’t summon him. Now that you think about it, it’s strange that Tomura didn’t summon him for the meeting with Overhaul.

You have questions about that. But as much as your feelings are pulling you in Tomura’s direction, you know rationally that it’s Twice and Toga you need to check on first.

You have a feeling they won’t react well to you checking on them. You’re not their mom or their sister. You head into the kitchen with the excuse of making tea and step carefully around and over them, trying to think of a solid opening line. “If you guys want somewhere to sit, I’ll arm-wrestle Spinner over that armchair.”

“Hey!”

You don’t know why Spinner’s getting wound up. In an arm-wrestling contest between the two of you, you’d almost definitely lose. “Twice likes the floor better. It’s cool and welcoming,” Toga says. She doesn’t open her eyes. “Sorry I said I was your sister.”

“You should have said cousin.” Twice’s eyes are closed, too. “You two don’t look anything alike.”

“I was on the phone. They couldn’t see me.”

“Sister was the right call,” you say. “I only have one female cousin, and she’s a villain.”

“Really?” Toga sits up, interested, and Tomura looks up from the kitchen table. “Why isn’t she in the League?”

“I don’t know that she’s, um, in your league,” you say. “Have you guys ever heard of Gentle Criminal?”

“That guy? I’ve met him! He’s a tool,” Twice says cheerily. “We were locked up in the same holding cell one time. The first time he went to jail it was for trying to be a hero. Your cousin’s with him?”

“Yeah, she’s his sidekick. Or videographer. Or something.” You’re understating it slightly. “I’m pretty sure they’re a thing.”

“Like you and Tomura-kun?”

“Not like that,” Twice disagrees before you can say anything. “The boss is way cooler. Saintess has better taste.”

“Or higher standards,” Toga says. “Or both.”

“What are their quirks?” Tomura asks. He slides down from the kitchen table and comes closer. “Could we use them?”

“I’m not sure about his. Hers – I don’t think so.” Your family thought Manami was quirkless for a while. When her quirk popped up late in primary school, they were thrilled. “None of my family are power types. All their quirks do is change things about other people – like status effects in a video game. My dad can change how people perceive time, so time-out really sucked when I was a kid. My youngest sisters can make people feel the same emotions they feel, which is terrible.”

Tomura makes a disgusted sound. “That’s worse than the twins.”

It’s not great, but on the whole, you’d rather deal with the triplets. “Those are all broad-spectrum. Manami – my cousin – her quirk is a power-up, but it only lets her affect one person. The person she loves the most. So unless her boss’s quirk is something really special, I don’t think they’d be much use.”

That’s true, but only halfway. You don’t want your cousin mixed up with the League. You don’t want anyone you know involved with them. You and Manami were pretty close, since you were the only quirkless ones in the family at for a while, and it was her running away to join Gentle Criminal that inspired you to shake off your parents and follow your own dream. You haven’t talked to her since, but ever since you found yourself a member of the League, you’ve thought about her more than usual. Wondering if she’s happy. Hoping she found what she was looking for, whatever it was. Praying she doesn’t get hurt.

The tea finishes steeping. Green tea. You remember Tomura likes that. You pass a cup to him, then down to Toga, and watch with no small sense of relief as Twice sits up for one of his own. When you look up, you find that Spinner’s come over, too. Once you’ve given him a cup, you call out to Dabi and Compress. “Do either of you want tea?”

Compress says no. Dabi, to your shock, says yes. “I’ll bring it to him,” Toga says. She hops up from the floor, takes the cup you pour, and brings it over to him at the window. When she comes back, she sits on the counter instead of the floor, and she focuses on you. “How many siblings do you have?”

“Seven.”

Toga looks surprised. “That’s even more than me,” she says. “Are you the oldest? You seem like the oldest.”

Not by much, but enough to count. Enough to make sure your childhood ended before it began. “How did you know?”

“Nobody starts out good enough to be a Saintess,” Toga says with a shrug. “You have to learn it somewhere. I’m the oldest, too. But I was never very good at that part.”

You have to learn it somewhere. You’ve never heard someone say that before, but now that you think about it, it’s true. You wouldn’t have gotten so good at keeping things calm, at smoothing things over, if you hadn’t had to. If tamping down your feelings, controlling the negative ones by any means possible, hadn’t been a necessity in your family, you wouldn’t have done it. It’s a personality trait, but not one you were born with. For a split second, you wonder who you would have been if you hadn’t grown up the way you did – and then you realize that you know. The lessons you learned set in before the triplets were born, but long before. The person you would have been is who you were with your best friend.

You push the thought aside. “How many siblings do you have?” you ask Toga. “Did you get along?”

She says yes, which makes sense. She’s outgoing compared to the rest of the League, and just like you learned from your family, she learned from hers. Spinner surprises everybody when he chimes in about his family, too – he’s a middle child, with one older brother and one younger sister. Tomura doesn’t add anything, but that doesn’t surprise you. He stays at the edge of the conversation, listening, and you keep one eye on him and one on Twice. If you wait long enough, you have a feeling Twice will talk about what’s bothering him.

You’re right about that. He speaks up in the next lull in the conversation. “I wish Magne was here,” he says. “She’s the only big sister I ever had.”

It’s quiet for a little while. Twice’s voice is small when he speaks again. “It’s my fault. I brought him there.”

“Nobody blames you,” Spinner says. “He lied. It’s what villains do.”

Nobody steps in to point out to Spinner that he’s also a villain, and something clicks in your head: The League thinks Overhaul is more of a villain than they are. Having seen what Overhaul did, you’re not going to argue. “He lied,” Tomura agrees. “Unless you have a mind-reading quirk we didn’t know about, there’s no way you could have known what he was planning.”

“Big Sis wouldn’t blame you.” Toga pokes Twice in the shoulder with her foot. “So you shouldn’t blame you, either.”

“And she’s still alive,” Tomura adds. “We’ll deal with Overhaul, and then we’ll break her out of wherever the heroes are keeping her. It’s not anything close to over.”

The situation seems like it’s resolving, sort of, and you have other stuff to do. You finish your tea, then make your way out of the kitchen. If you’re going to be responsible for caring for Compress’s injuries, you need to make sure you have the necessary supplies. And there’s blood all over your costume. You should probably change. When you shut the door to your room and peel off the tunic, it sticks to you, which is when you realize that your skin is covered with dried blood, too. It’s all over you, and the sight reminds you of something you wish the memory wipe had cleared away – what happened in the wreckage of Tenko’s house, when you tripped and fell and sprawled out in what was left of a member of his family.

You need to clean up. You need to clean up right now. You strip out of your clothes on the way to the shower, turn the water on hot, and throw yourself in before it’s even started warming up.

The cold water isn’t enough to freeze out the memory, and the hot water can’t burn it away. It’s your turn to throw up in the bathroom, and you do, on your hands and knees in the shower, trusting the water to cover up the sound. Your head is spinning again, between Magne’s death and Compress’s injury and getting shot and getting Magne back and outing yourself as quirkless and getting a new name – a new name, like a villain, like your cousin Manami except you’re all but useless to the villain you serve – and hosting the League for the next three days, and getting shot. You keep forgetting that you got shot. You keep forgetting how it happened.

It’s been clear for a while that you put Tenko above yourself, in a lot of ways. His memory above your sanity. His mission above your integrity. His needs over your pain. But today was the first time you actually put Tenko’s life over your own. Sure, the gun had quirk-canceling bullets instead of real ones, but you didn’t know that when you heard the first shot. You heard the first shot, knew who the second one would be aimed at, and threw yourself in front of him. And you did it without hesitating.

You don’t like thinking about that. You don’t like looking at it, either, once you’re out of the shower, wrapped in a towel and trying to patch it back up. It’s not a bullet hole – more like a puncture wound, angry and inflamed, with jagged red lines emanating from the impact point. You don’t like looking at it so much that you leave dealing with it for last, patching up yesterday’s injuries and getting most of the way dressed before finally facing up to it. You’re just deciding whether to use spray disinfectant or antibiotic cream when someone knocks on the door. “Just a second,” you say, and the door opens anyway. It pisses you off. “Out. If you can’t give me a second –”

The door shuts again, and a moment later, Tenko appears in the mirror behind you. His eyes are fixed on the wound in your shoulder, and without asking, he lifts the supplies out of your hands and gets to work. He does with the Neosporin over the antiseptic spray. In general, you’re pretty stoic about pain, but the spot where the quirk-canceling bullet struck feels like the worst bruise you’ve ever gotten, combined with an ache in your shoulder and arm that almost feel like you’ve got the flu. You flinch from Tenko’s touch. “Careful.”

“Sorry.” Tenko’s hands are barely touching you. It just hurts. Now that you’ve let yourself admit it, you have to admit that it hurts a lot. “This was stupid. Don’t do it again.”

Your stomach clenches. It’s not like you were expecting him to thank you, but – “It was necessary. We’d have been in big trouble without your quirk. And I’m your sidekick. My job is to –”

“Have my back. Help me. Be with me.” Tenko looks up from his work, makes eye contact with you in the mirror. “We’re supposed to win together. You’re not supposed to die for me. I never let that happen.”

Even when you were little, you were a little too realistic for the games you and Tenko played. Sometimes you’d imagine yourselves into a corner you couldn’t see a way out of, and in those cases, you’d try to say your goodbyes – and Tenko never let you. If I can’t save my own sidekick, how will I save anyone else? “Those were just games.”

“And now they’re real. Nothing else has changed.” Tenko’s much more careful than usual as he bandages your shoulder. “Did you get the other ones?”

You nod. And while the two of you are here, he’s got wounds you need to check. You unwrap the bandage without asking, just like he did, and inspect the scratches. For injuries incurred last night, they don’t look so bad, and you pick up into the same routine as before. There’s something almost comforting about the pattern you’ve fallen into with Tenko, of tending to each other no matter where the wounds came from. It settles your nerves, slows down the frantic spinning of your mind. This is why you’re here. To be with Tenko. And you are, so what does the rest of it matter?

You’ve just put the panic in its place when Tenko speaks up. “Don’t do it again,” he says. “Say you won’t.”

“I won’t,” you say. The words roll off your tongue easily enough, but they feel wrong, and it’s not until Tenko kisses you that you understand why. All this time, he hasn’t lied to you. Whether he’s Tenko or Tomura, he tells you the truth. You’ve just lied to him for the first time ever, selling it so smoothly that he can’t help but believe you, and it feels awful.

It’s not the worst part, though. The worst part is that you’re not sorry.

MHA CHAPTER 402 SPOILER:

Is no one gonna talk about how Tomura just... swallows AFO's quirk...? Like, just straight up "gulp."

AFO's face says it all. Like, 😐.

Throat game strong.

Well..Tomura come here baby🤌✨

Who is it?💕

mentions: blood, injury, horror themes. sorry LMAO. they care u?

you were taught—like all others at a young age—that the word 'friend' has a positive connotation.

friend, best friend, work friend—they all have positive associations with them. it's only natural, you suppose, for humans to crave close connections to others. after all, you've experienced it your whole life, not only with yourself, but when looking at the people around you and how they interact with the world.

friends are good, simple as that. and to be called someone's friend means that you'll always be there for them. that you care about them and crave their presence in your life.

so when sun calls you his friend for the first time—your first day on the job, in fact—you're a bit surprised and maybe a little weirded out. you've only just met him and frankly, you hadn't been aware that this applied to robots as well. it's something you find yourself ruminating upon later.

he uses the title very often, you've noticed. not only with you, but with others as well. mostly the kids at the daycare, since they are whom he interacts with the most on a daily basis. you figure it must be part of his programming to make people more comfortable with him, so you let him call you whatever his little robot heart desires. not like it was really bothering you or anything—though you certainly grow more accustomed to it the closer you get to him.

part of you wonders if he puts any weight behind the word—if by calling you 'friend' he truly means it. maybe he doesn't understand the concept—made, as he is, from metal and code. perhaps it is just an empty word. perhaps it isn't. you're not sure if you'll ever know.

moon doesn't call you 'friend', not really. he's quite quiet when he wants to be and sticks to calling you other names that make your eye twitch sporadically on more than one occasion. what he does do relentlessly is tease you, and you figure that's his way of getting close to people. or driving them away, whichever comes first. you get used to him like you get used to sun's openness.

you find yourself pondering upon the relationship you form with the daycare attendant over time, analyzing and picking them apart in your mind in the nights you spend at home. they seem to have an affinity for your presence, seeking you out the moment you step into the daycare. they talk to you, they laugh with you. they show genuine interest in the things you have to say. they hug you and spin you around. they pat your head and pinch your nose.

and so you conclude, one night after returning from the pizzaplex, that sun and moon are your friends. a strange thought, you muse, to be friends with robots. it makes you happy, you admit.

so then why are you so afraid right now?

you swallow heavily as you try to level your shallow breaths, heart pounding a harsh beat in your chest. you need to calm down, you need to calm down or they'll hear you. their sensors allow them to pick up on irregular rhythms, they'll find you if you don't calm yourself. deep breath in, deep breath out. breathe.

perspiration slides down the side of your face as you hunker into yourself, curled underneath a party table with cloth adornments that conceal your form from the outside. you're safe here for now if you don't disturb the fabric around you. your legs curl farther into your body—squishing yourself into as small of a ball as possible. darkness surrounds your figure, interrupted by the dim light you can see filtering through the table cloth.

your right hand grips at your left shoulder, wet with a thick liquid that spills between your fingers and coats the inside of your shirt. it hurts, god, it hurts so much. you're confused, you're scared. you don't know what's going on—only that something is so very, very wrong. wrong from the moment you'd stepped into the daycare, and the moment you'd ran out.

your throat aches when you swallow, a dryness coating it like there are cotton balls instead of mucosa lining it. you lick your lips in a vain attempt to wet them and close your eyes to suppress the way your vision swims before you. deep breath in, deep breath out. you're not calming down, why aren't you calming down?

your heartrate spikes abruptly when you hear a slow, dull clanging sound somewhere to your far left. it's loud—getting louder with each beat—and makes you cover your mouth with your unoccupied hand as best as you can. something wet slides down the curves of your cheeks and drips onto your collarbones. you still your breaths and do your best not to make a sound.

the clanging gets louder and a glitched, warbling voice calls out over it in a way that makes your stomach drop down to your feet. "f-friend! friend!" it cries out desperately, static lining its voice. the word makes something icy coat your insides and seizes your guts in an iron grip. "w-where a-are you hi-hiding, f-friend?"

your teeth clench together so harshly you swear something in your jaw creaks. your eyes dart around, wishing you can see beyond the table cloth. but you're forced to rely on your hearing as the clanging—heavy, metallic stomping—moves somewhere behind you. "f-friend! we-we are s-so sorr-r-y for hur-hurting you!" the voice gets closer, like it's right on top of your head. "come out, pl-please?"

fat chance, you want to say, but you don't. your lower lip trembles minutely and your eyes catch onto a shadow that moves on your left. just beyond the table cloth. you don't move. you don't breathe. if you listen close enough, you can hear small clicks of metal against metal. little jerks and twitches.

a beat passes. your muscles tense.

a scream leaves your lips as cloth rushes over your head. the table gets flipped—thrown to the side like it weighs nothing—and you're left exposed to the chilly air of the pizzaplex. you scramble backwards, but feel something latch onto your ankle and drag you down until you're flat on your back and staring up up up. at the towering figure of metal and silicon crouched over you, three arms crooked towards you in a way like they are about to grab you.

its shadow casts itself over your prone form, interrupted by an iridescent purple that gleams across the pupils of its eyes—faint.

"f-friend!" it says excitedly as its grip tightens around your ankle. another one of its arms latches onto your uninjured shoulder while a third lifts its sharp claws up to wipe at the tears running down your face. "th-there y-you are! found you, we f-found you~! why did you h-hide from us?" its grin seems to widen and thins at the edges, voice dark with a static you've never heard before. your heart stutters in your chest, a sob lingers in your throat.

it's sun. it's moon. it's both of them. it's neither of them. it's your friend. it's not your friend.

you don't know who they are anymore. you don't know why them calling you their friend has turned that previously warm feeling in your gut into something much, much darker.

you were friends. you were friends.

you stare up at them and flinch when their hands tighten over you to bring you closer to them.

...right?

tell us something about the reader x Shigaraki fic that the reader knows/you know but we don't!! about Shigaraki or life or anything. I know u have a few reader x Shigaraki fics so this remains intentionally vague for the potentially of a vague and provocative author response. <3

For a second I thought I'd lost this ask in my inbox and I almost had a heart attack, but it was still here and I am very thankful to get the chance to answer it. Since you didn't specify a fic (the intentional vagueness is a gift!) I'm going to go with one each from a few of them.

Skin Hunger -- the reader has played more than one...role...in Asylum since she was first hired, and in spite of what she tells Shigaraki and herself, her initial plan wasn't to stay in Asylum forever.

Expiation -- despite Sir Tomura's insistence that he's the one true monster left in the world, the reader has had close contact with someone who was arguably worse.

Enough to Go By -- the reader is not the only villain (or villain-adjacent) in her family! Who that villain is will be revealed at some point soon.

Thank you for the ask! I'm sorry it took so long to get to it, but I really appreciated getting to talk a little bit about the fics.

hi jasmina. i haven’t stopped by in a hot minute mostly because i’ve been rotting on tokyo rev (read: draken) for like three weeks straight. but i wanted to stop by for shameless saturdays because i’ve missed interacting with you.

i don’t have an idea that’s new or profound, really, but i’ve been thinking about shigaraki and pet play with his cute bunny!reader that’s constantly by his side. at his feet. in his lap. on his bed. collared and sitting pretty, doing nothing but being dumb and giving him something to take his emotions out on. he’s surprisingly not as cruel as you’d think; shigaraki’s got a lot of anger and pain, and he can be so, so mean, but at the end of the day, you’re his pet. he’s going to take care of you in the best way he knows how while using you as a soft, pretty stress ball as often as he wants. because in a way, having pet to ‘love’ that loves him back, is a little bit healing.

how you came to be in his life is a story in itself, but that’s for another day.

ok ily bye!!

Hi bunny!! So good to see you in my inbox again. I missed you too!

Tomura can't get enough of you. You're everything that he thought he'd never get to have. You're soft and make the prettiest noises when he can't resist squeezing you tight. You wear his collar like its a crown, and god your pussy is the best stress relief he's ever felt.

Doesn't help that you seem to love him for some reason, even when he's in a mean mood and starts mocking you for how wet you get for him. It makes him hard to know that no matter how messed up he is you still look at him like he hung the moon for you.

"Dumb little bunny, can't help yourself huh?" He always smirks when you get needy and climb into his lap, trembling with desire and gushing on his thighs as you rock against him.

"Don't worry, I'll give you what you need."

He fucks you like he's punishing you, his fat cock bullying your pussy open until you're taking all of him. But still you cling to him and cream on his cock like you were made for him and him alone. It healed some dark part of his heart to see the unconditional love in your eyes as he fucked his load into you.

He was never letting you go.