NFSW ALPHABET TW: OPINIONS

SHIGARAKI >:D!!!! Red tinted :D!!

If you can show your appreciation somehow, please do!!! (if you use)

My bbg Tomura :3

I want this man kneeling before me (just kidding hahu)

Little thing here

Ashes to ashes

Summary: Even in the cold aftermath of the war, Tenko rests knowing he's not alone cw: tomura shigaraki x female reader, fix it fic, fluff, drabble, how its actually going to end tbh wc: 742

Everything is bright. 

It’s the first thing he could think of as he blinks his eyes open. The sluggish movements paired with the rhythmic beeping of a machine next to him made it all feel more jarring. 

Once the blurring of his vision cleared he had a better idea of his situation. 

He’s in the hospital. 

There is a window, a machine monitoring his vitals and

You. 

Your head is down as you sat by the side of his bed, the slow breathing of your form clueing him in on your current sleeping status. 

How long have you been here? At his side as he lie in a hospital bed for god knows how long? 

His heart — feeling new, feeling warm aches in ways that have nothing to do with the soreness of his other muscles. 

It makes him reach out to you, his hands are bandaged, but he knows decay no longer rests within him. He knows the quirk was destroyed along with his hatred, yet he still maintains a lifted finger as he pets the top of your resting head. 

Somehow you were so comfortable sleeping at an awkward angle — leaning over onto his bed as you sat next to him in your chair. 

It’s cute. 

You’re cute. 

He feels a smile pull at his features, it grows even bigger as you stir, waking to the disturbance. 

Your eyes are slow as they open and he can only feel himself relax as you look at him again. 

He thought he’d never see you again. 

“Tenko.” Your voice is soft, heavy with sleep as you speak and the words waver with the tears filling your eyes. “Thank god you’re awake.”

Yes, Tenko, no longer Tomura Shigaraki. It feels like a dream, but that part of him died with the end of the war. Only the embers of his true being remaining to be born again from the ashes. 

Your hand catches his and there is no fear in your movements. You are not afraid of him — you were never afraid of him. 

You’ve always loved him throughout it all. 

“How long have you been here?” He drags himself to ask, voice hoarse from lack of use and Tenko can see the way your shoulders shake as you struggle to answer — as you struggle to fight the tears. 

“It doesn’t matter.” Is your only response as you rise from your chair, knocking it back from the force of your movements as you race to wrap your arms around his neck in a hug. 

It’s tight and it presses on the bandages all over his body but he can’t bring himself to care. He’s just content with you being the first thing he sees as he came to. 

He doesn’t acknowledge your shaking sobs, knowing you would get on to him about calling you a crybaby. No, he allows you this moment, pulling you in closer and burying his nose into the crook of your neck. 

“I was so scared, Tenko,” you start, words breaking free from the confines of your mind, “I thought you were gone for good.”

He rubs soothing motions onto your back, pulling you in tighter. “I thought I was, too.”

The words only make you cry harder, the tears make his heart ache along with the pain throughout his body now. 

“I love you, I love you so much,” you murmur, and he knows. He’s always known. “Please don’t ever leave me again.”

Tenko pulls you back, forehead now resting against yours and — god, he knows you would hate to hear him say it, but he can’t help it. He thinks you’re cute in all forms, even when crying. 

“I,” he pauses and looks at you, really looks at you — and seeing his entire world in your eyes only brings the sting of unfamiliar tears. “I love you, too. I won’t leave your side again.”

He brings you in for a kiss, a gentle press of his lips against yours and you take all that you can, eyes closing and head tilting. 

Tenko pulls away and it’s brief only to mutter a firm, “I promise.”

Then he’s back, kissing you like his life depended on it. 

Even so close to you, he knows the warm tears trailing down his face were his own. The burn of them is unmistakable. Tenko can only bring himself to smile into the kiss, feeling anew. 

He can’t remember the last time he cried. 

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 15

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

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

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

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

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

“Then don’t leave.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“In case what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What for?”

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

“Who?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I knew you had a special friend!”

“He’s not a special friend!”

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

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

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

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

“You didn’t call me all day.”

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

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

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

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

“How long is a little bit?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your throat feels tight. “Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yelling is faster.”

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

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

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

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

“Tomura –”

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

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

i need. More repressed shigaraki

Oh babe you asked for it and so yougot it 

Part I and II here

At this point, it’s been a few weeks, and Shigaraki is as close to coming to terms with his feelings for youas he’s going to get. That’s not saying much, since now that he realizes the trouble he’s in, that means he’s going to have to actually do something about it, right? Now, our boy is a man of action, but this? This is uncharted territory for him, and he doesn’t like that one bit. 

He’d rather go toe to toe with All Might than act on what he feels for you. Battles are a matter of strength, calculation, and strategy. Worst comes to worst, he could retreat and try again another day. But this? Too many variables, too many questions. Feelings are irrational and random, and there’s no way to calculate that.

Plus, if you reject him, it’s gameover, and there’s no continue. He’s not sure he could handle that. 

Afficher davantage

This is so toxic but somehow canon !😭✋✋

Your content is so awesome! I really loved your recent Yandere Yuji fic. Could I request a Yandere Dom!Shiggy spanking Reader piece because Reader was fighting him on something and he just got kind of frustrated and took it out on her?

Happy you enjoy my stuff. Hope you enjoy this too ♡

Tw: mdni!!, spanking, dom/sub dynamics, defo not a healthy relationship, yandere undertones, this is all just bc you didn't want to watch his favorite movie lmao, short

You watch how he suddenly gets up mid conversation and walks to his desk. You are perceptive to his mood but this confuses you. You were just trying to figure out what to watch.

"Tomura?"

He opens a drawer and gets out the leather gloves and your eyes widen. He only ever…

"Tomu?" Your heart starts beating immediately like it is conditioned… your dooming faith laid out bare before you.

"You're so damn annoying," Tomura breathes deeply. "Can't you just agree with me?! You should agree with me!" He laughs menacingly. "Lovers agree with each other, hm?"

"Tomura," you shift and tug your legs under you. "It's not that deep…. We were just trying to figure out what to watch… it's not– hhnn." He grabs your face and his eyes are so feral, his breath washes over you. You just did not want to watch his favorite movie again. For the 10th time.

"Don't speak. You have to be punished."

Oh no. For this? It's not fair.

He sits down and taps his legs and you know what it means. Protest would make it worse. You lay down over his lap, hiding your face in your arms.

"I hate when you disagree with me," he sighs and gropes at your ass. He tugs your– his– shirt up and then your panties down to your knees. "I hate it so much, heh. Just be on my side, damn."

A hard spank jolts your body and you yelp.

"Shut up!" Tomura barks. "Be so quiet."

You nod, biting your lip so hard it hurts.

"Look, you can do what I say after all," he coos. "How easy it suddenly is. Arch your back more."

You do.

"Why… look… it's not that hard at all." He spanks you again. You are sure he doesn't realize how much it hurts. Another slap and another. He doesn't even soothe the sensation with his palm.

You whimper pathetically when you feel him take momentum but then pause, cruelly making you wait. The slap is the hardest yet and you cry out, sobbing into the mattress.

"Did I allow you to make sounds?" Tomura's voice is so empty and detached. "And squirm like that?"

You shake your head and heave, looking at him through your tears. The next spank makes your body go limp. The pain is flaming home, but he finally rubs over your bruised ass – only to spank two more times as hard as he possibly could.

And he knows. Because he doesn't even scold you for crying out and winding on his lap, he just holds you down and shushes you softly.

"Will you disagree with me again?" He asks, leaning over and kissing your salty cheek. You look at him. "Go on… you can speak."

"Never… never, Tomura. I'll always agree with you," you gasp and whine. "Always, please."

He smiles, so innocently and happy. He soothes the flaming skin. "Good girl," he kisses you softly. "It's gonna be easy mode from now on, babes."

He tugs your panties back up and makes sure they snap over your tender skin. You hiss in pain and look at him, then crawl on top of him, hugging him tightly.

"M'sorry," you whisper. "So sorry."

He tenderly strokes through your hair. "Don't worry. I love you… I'll forgive you. Are we watching my movie now?"

"Yes."

Love Like Ghosts (Chapter 4) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

You knew the empty house in a quiet neighborhood was too good to be true, but you were so desperate to get out of your tiny apartment that you didn't care, and now you find yourself sharing space with something inhuman and immensely powerful. As you struggle to coexist with a ghost whose intentions you're unsure of, you find yourself drawn unwillingly into the upside world of spirits and conjurers, and becoming part of a neighborhood whose existence depends on your house staying exactly as it is, forever. But ghosts can change, just like people can. And as your feelings and your ghost's become more complex and intertwined, everything else begins to crumble. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9

Chapter 4

You don’t see Tomura the next morning, but when you come home from work, Phantom is loose in the yard, and Hizashi is hanging out just beyond the fence, studying an empty jar. “I came to get this, since we’re out,” he remarks. He has sharp teeth, just like Himiko. “So, what happened last night?”

You play dumb for all you’re worth. “Something happened last night?”

“Of course it did. The vibes coming off this house are impressively horny,” Hizashi says, and you cringe so hard you’re surprised you don’t explode. “I’ve been there. Consequence of spending too much time embodied – you start feeling things a normal human body feels, and going incorporeal doesn’t make it go away. That was a nasty shock for me, too.”

You really don’t want to ask Hizashi any questions at all, but you’ve got one – and it’s a subject change, so you seize it. “Is it true that ghosts’ power levels are stagnant? Are you just stuck with what you started with?”

“That’s not what I thought you were going to ask.” Hizashi tosses the jar from one hand to the other. “I’m guessing you’re asking because of our sexually frustrated friend in there?”

“I’ll pay you to never say that again,” you say, and Hizashi laughs. “Yes. He said –”

“That he didn’t want to come here. I’d buy that, easy.” Hizashi glances over his shoulder at the house, then beckons you away down the block. You’re not sure how far you have to go to be out of Tomura’s earshot, but you stop when Hizashi does. “Here’s the thing. He and I are the oldest ghosts in this neighborhood, but we’re not the same kind of old. I chose to be here.”

“Why?” you ask. Hizashi stares at you. “Did you come here to hurt people?”

“I came here because I wanted to be people,” Hizashi says. You stare. “Ask him what it’s like in the world between and you’ll understand. But to answer your question, we don’t spend our whole existences at the same power level. There are two kinds of ghostly power. There’s what you get right at the start. Then there’s your potential. Conjurers – the worst ones, anyway – they want potential. That’s why they grab the youngest ghosts.”

His expression darkens, and your legs almost give out beneath you. Is this how Tomura makes other people feel? You’re surprised that anyone’s ever set foot in your house. Hizashi doesn’t notice what he’s doing to you, or if he notices, he doesn’t care. “Eri had low surface power but massive potential. Her conjurer bound her in the worst situation possible, figuring she’d have to tap into that potential to take control of her environment and make it her own. She found another way out, but your ghost didn’t.”

He glances back at your house. “Based on how strong your ghost is now, his potential was massive. He probably hasn’t even found his limit yet. What’s weird is that he hasn’t used it.”

“Did you use yours?”

Hizashi grins his sharp-toothed grin. “Why do you think it took them so long to burn my opera house down?”

You’ve wondered, every so often, what it would have been like to be haunted by Hizashi instead of Tomura. Now you’re pretty sure you’d have had a breakdown. Aizawa must have nerves of steel. “Anyway,” Hizashi says, “he’s not smart enough to tell a lie that big. He’s telling the truth.”

He tosses the jar at you and you barely catch it in time. “And whatever you did last night, don’t do it again. I can handle his mood, but it’s messing with the little ones.”

You cringe. The last thing you want is for Eri and Himiko to pick up on whatever Tomura’s doing – even if they do know all about sex from observing humans already. But you also don’t know how to fix this problem you apparently caused. “What am I supposed to do about it?”

“Ask Keigo,” Hizashi says, already walking away. “He’ll know.”

Keigo? You’ve talked to Keigo some, since he’s the only person in the neighborhood who’s actually in your age range, but it’s occurring to you now that you’ve never actually met Keigo’s ghost. You pull out your phone, considering texting him, but there’s no point when his house is across the street and his car’s in the driveway. You walk back to your house, retrieve Phantom’s spare leash from your car, and take her with you when you head across the street to knock on Keigo’s door.

Keigo answers it pretty fast. There’s a handprint-shaped hole burned in his shirt, still smoking faintly, and it draws your attention like a magnet. “Uh, what is that?”

“Ask Dabi,” Keigo says.

“Ask her damn ghost. It’s all his fault.”

“No, it isn’t. You can control your behavior, you just don’t want to.” Keigo rolls his eyes. “I saw you talking to Hizashi. I’m guessing he sent you?”

“Yeah. Can we talk?”

“Yeah. Just let me get my shoes. And a new shirt.” Keigo ducks back into the house, and you wait on the steps, wondering if you’ll get a glimpse of the former ghost who lives here. Keigo’s voice issues from within the house, but he’s not talking to you. “Don’t go out there if you’re just going to get into a pissing contest with the guy across the street. He could crush you with both hands tied behind his back.”

“He can’t cross that fence, and I didn’t give up my powers like an idiot. That means I can do whatever I want with his human –”

“He’d blow that house apart and come get you, and you know it.” Keigo reappears. “Sorry about him. He’s in a mood. Let’s go.”

“Hey, who said you could leave? I didn’t say you could leave! Get back here –”

“I’ll be back when I feel like it! Bye-bye!” Keigo waves and then slams the door. He hurries down the steps and you follow him. He doesn’t stop until you’re at the top of the street. “Sorry about that. I’m guessing you’ve got questions.”

You have a lot of questions. “Aizawa said Tomura was the only ghost left in the neighborhood.”

“He is,” Keigo says. “You know how ghosts have to want to be embodied more than they’ve ever wanted anything for it to work? Dabi tried to change his mind halfway.”

“Oh,” you say. “So that makes him half ghost?”

“It makes him a scar wraith. Half of him is permanently materialized, half of him isn’t, and most of the time he’s a total bitch about it.” Keigo crouches down to tie his shoes. “He lost half of his ghostly powers and picked up most of the downsides of being embodied. He’s going to be like that until he makes up his mind.”

“Oh,” you say again. “That’s, um – is that why your house is always on fire?”

“You got it.” Keigo straightens up again. “I know we got out of there in a hurry, but you’re not actually in danger from him. I just wanted to teach him a lesson. Like you do to yours when you leave.”

Is that what you’re trying to do? You don’t know if you’re trying to punish Tomura or just trying to figure out a game plan before you go back in. In this case it’s definitely the latter. “Hizashi says my ghost is, um –”

“Horny,” Keigo says. Your face heats up. He starts walking, and you follow him. “Yeah, they get like that sometimes. And they don’t like it. Usually they dematerialize to get away from feelings they don’t like, but it doesn’t work, and that pisses them off, too.”

Phantom stops to sniff a tree, and you let her for a second before tugging her along. “Why?”

“Maybe you don’t know, because you’re a girl –”

“Girls get horny too,” you say. This is maybe the dumbest conversation you’ve ever had, excepting the one you had with Tomura about why Phantom can’t have dead birds even though she really wants them. “Are you saying it’s because they have to do something about it? They don’t. They can just wait for it to go away.”

“Yeah, but waiting for it to go away is uncomfortable,” Keigo says. You’re not going to argue that one. Being horny when you don’t want to be is deeply unpleasant. “And ghosts suck at tolerating discomfort. Yours is pretty inexperienced with everything from what I’ve heard, so he probably doesn’t know what to do, and unless you want to leave a copy of The Joy of Sex lying around –”

“I don’t.” You shudder. “I don’t want him getting ideas.”

“Then you’re going to have to explain,” Keigo says patiently. You give him a pained look, and he sighs. “Tell him to materialize fully and get it out of his system. That’ll solve the initial problem.”

The thought of heading back to your house and telling Tomura he needs to masturbate makes you want to die. But you’re even unhappier about Keigo’s second sentence. “What do you mean, the initial problem?”

“Hizashi and Magne gave me the ghost sex talk when we moved here. Kind of late, but it helped, sort of.” Keigo rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Once ghosts figure out how it works, they go one of two ways. Either they decide it’s gross and they’re not interested – that’s what Magne did – or they decide they’re really into it, which is what Hizashi did. And they can’t generate that feeling on their own the way people do, so they go after the people who made them feel that way the first time.”

That sinks in fast, but you’ve got no idea what to think or say or do about it. What comes out is the last thing you wanted to tell anyone. “I just held his hand. That was it! I was just trying to prove that there’s a difference between physical contact that hurts and stuff that doesn’t hurt because he won’t quit scratching his neck until it bleeds – and I’m pretty sure he hated it –”

“If he hated it, then you’re fine,” Keigo says. “Honestly, most of the adult former ghosts I’ve met aren’t into it even after they embody themselves permanently. Hizashi’s only like that because he spent enough time embodied to get used to it before he made it official. If it was a common thing Aizawa would have written a guidebook on it by now.”

Aizawa does have a lot of guidebooks. It took you a while to realize that most of the literature he sent you home with was stuff he’d written himself. “Although,” Keigo muses, “I guess Aizawa never hooked up with an actual ghost. He and Hizashi didn’t bang until after Hizashi was embodied.”

“So, um –” You can’t believe you’re about to ask this. “Did you, uh –”

“Did me and Dabi hook up before he fucked up his embodiment? Yeah,” Keigo says. You thought he’d be embarrassed, or proud. Instead he looks sad. “He didn’t use to be like this, or go by Dabi. His real name is Touya, and he was a lot, sure, but he wasn’t like this. I wouldn’t have gotten into it with him if he’d been like this the whole time.”

“I get it,” you say. You’ve had bad relationships before. “Do you think he’d go back if he embodied himself all the way?”

“Probably? I don’t think he’ll do that, though.” Keigo sighs. “They almost never decide consciously that they’re going to embody themselves. It happens because of how they feel. The little ones, they embodied themselves because they wanted to be with their families. They wanted to be seen and loved more than they wanted to be powerful. Magne jumped because Spinner didn’t have anybody but her, and as far as I can tell, she’s sort of surprised she did it. Hizashi did it on purpose, but Hizashi’s different – and from what he’s said, he’d probably have done it unconsciously at some point. He loves Aizawa that much.”

Now you get why Keigo looks so sad. “I bet Touya just got nervous,” you say. “I mean, it’s kind of a big decision, right? The biggest one they’ll ever make. And it’s not like he left. Even after you left his old haunt he stayed with you. That’s got to mean something.”

“Maybe.” Keigo smiles halfway. “A guy can hope, right?”

“Of course,” you say. Personally, you’re hoping for something different from Tomura.

You spend way too long pacing up and down the street after you say goodbye to Keigo, trying to work up your nerve. But eventually the weird tension from the house becomes perceptible to you even from outside it, and you remember what Hizashi said about the kids. You order yourself to suck it up, unlatch the front gate, and make your way inside. You can tell Tomura’s watching you, marking you closely, while you give Phantom a treat and some water. Once you’ve gotten her settled, you make your way upstairs to your room and shut the door. You can’t look at him while you have this conversation. You squeeze your eyes shut and speak up. “I know how to fix your problem.”

“What problem?” Tomura’s voice sounds tight and uncomfortable. “I don’t have a problem. You have a problem. You hung out with that guy across the street –”

“Because I needed help with you,” you say. It’s quiet for a second. “I figured out a solution to your problem. So you won’t feel the way you’re feeling anymore. I know it’s uncomfortable.”

“No, you don’t. Humans don’t feel like this.”

You manage to laugh at that one. “Humans feel like this all the time, Tomura. Half the dumb decisions people make in movies are because they feel like this.”

It’s quiet again. “How do I fix it?”

You bury your face in your head. “You have to materialize all the way. Then you have to touch yourself.”

“What do you mean, touch myself? You said I wasn’t supposed to scratch.”

“Not there.” You’re pretty sure your face is melting off from sheer embarrassment. “You know where that feeling is? The one you don’t like? You have to touch yourself there to make it go away.”

“Why?”

“It –” You chicken out. “You’ll figure it out once you try it. Go in the bathroom and shut the door.”

“Why do I have to go in there?”

“Privacy,” you say. There’s no way to tell him that you don’t want to have to clean ghost cum off the hardwood floors.

You hear footsteps down the hall, followed by the bathroom door opening and closing. “This is stupid,” Tomura says. You couldn’t agree more. “I’m doing it. It still feels – weird –”

That catch in his voice is something you really could have gone without hearing. “You don’t have to narrate,” you say. “You deserve privacy. I’m giving you privacy. I can leave the house –”

“No, don’t.” Tomura sounds pretty sure about that. “This was your idea. Don’t you want to – ugh.”

You don’t want to know what that was about. At all. You think about getting your headphones, except if you don’t respond when he talks to you, he’ll come looking to see why, and you really don’t want him to come talk to you in whatever state he’s in at the moment. Maybe it’s over already. Maybe he’s one of the vast majority of ghosts who think it’s gross and this will never happen to you again. You’re sure that’s it. It’s over already. It –

A low sigh echoes through the house, and you freeze in place. There’s a few uneven breaths, and then another sigh, followed by a sharper sound, somewhere between a gasp and a whimper. “What is this?” Tomura asks, his voice strained in an entirely different way than before. When you don’t respond, he says your name, followed by another one of those sharper sounds. “I don’t understand. Why – ah –”

You clamp your hands down over your ears, but it’s like your ears are attuned specifically to him. You can hear everything. Every ragged breath, every whimper, every needy, desperate moan, and suddenly you’re sure that you got the other kind of ghost, the kind that finds sex and lust fascinating instead of gross. You’ve made a mistake. Not just in telling him to solve the problem like this, but in sticking around to listen. Because listening to this, knowing that you touched his hand and turned him on so badly that it’s been permeating the neighborhood all day, is doing something to you, too.

Your face is flushed, but it’s not just from embarrassment. When you touch your wrist to feel for your pulse, it’s fast. And worse than all of that, you’re wet. Knowing it’ll make things worse doesn’t stop you from sliding one hand down the front of your jeans, recoiling when you realize just how wet you are. This is a disaster. You can’t let him know.

There’s only one solution you can think of. No time to get to the bed, or to do anything more than sink to the floor, unzipping your jeans just far enough to give your hand room to move. You shove the heel of your other hand against your mouth, because you’re not loud but you’ve never done anything like this before and you’re not sure what will happen. You squeeze your eyes shut as you brush your fingers between your legs, the sound you make muffled by your hand and drowned out by the almost-agonized moan that issues from the bathroom down the hall. “I can’t,” Tomura pants. “I can’t – stop – how does it stop –”

“You’ll know.” You think your voice is steady enough. How is he still going? The first time you masturbated, you were so wound up that you were done almost faster than you could think. And he’s a guy. “Just keep going.”

“Keep talking.” Tomura’s voice is just as raspy and ragged as his breathing is. It shouldn’t be hot. You shouldn’t find this hot. “Is this –”

He breaks off in a whine. “How it’s supposed to feel?” you ask. You increase the pressure of your fingers against your clit in spite of the fact that he’s clearly expecting you to talk and you don’t want him to know what you’re doing. “Like you’re going to fall apart, but it feels so good you don’t care?”

“Yeah. Ah –”

“Like that,” you say. You find yourself spreading your legs wider, giving more space for your hand to move. “Exactly like that, Tomura. Don’t stop.”

You’re telling him how to touch himself, but it’s all wrong. It sounds the same as what you’d be telling him to do if he was here, if the fingers slipping inside you were his. What is wrong with you? Thoughts flash through your mind, thoughts you shouldn’t have, and your breathing turns shallow and harsh. “Say something,” Tomura whines, begs. You picture what he must look like right now, face red and hair stuck to his neck and forehead with sweat, completely at the mercy of a body and a need, and crook your fingers, shuddering. “Come on. I need you. Don’t leave me. Please –”

“I’m here.” The strain in your voice would let anyone else know exactly what you’re doing, but Tomura doesn’t know – and even if he did, the sounds you hear tell you that he’s lost in his own touch, chasing his own high. You might as well not be here. All you are is a friendly voice, a guide in uncharted territory. “You’re doing great. You’re almost done, aren’t you? You know what you like by now. Do that, and keep doing it. Don’t stop until –”

The sound he makes is inarticulate and absolutely filthy. Your muscles clench around your fingers, and you rub desperately at your clit with your free hand. Without a hand over your mouth to muffle yourself, you’re reduced to biting your lip until it bleeds as you listen to Tomura shuddering through the first orgasm of his existence. And that’s what tips you over the edge, really – the thought that it’s his first, the thought that it’s because of you. Blood spills into your mouth as your hips jerk against your hands, your vocal cords straining with the effort of holding back the sounds you want to make. You can’t remember the last time you came this hard. All you want to do is sprawl out on the floor and go to sleep.

But you can’t. You need to hide the evidence. You can’t let Tomura know what you just did. You zip and button your jeans, cringing at the slickness of your fingers, and leave your room, hurrying to the downstairs bathroom to splash water on your face. You get a glimpse of what you look like in the mirror and stare in horror. Your face is flushed and your eyes are dilated and there’s a drop of blood at the corner of your mouth that you smear away with the back of your hand. You look like a mess. The only thing that will save you is that Tomura doesn’t know what to look for.

His voice drifts through the house, still unsteady. “There’s a mess in here.”

“I’ll clean it later,” you say. “Since it’s my fault.”

The floor creaks once or twice, then stops, and you know Tomura’s dematerialized. It’s not a surprise. You can’t imagine how much energy he burned through, and sure enough, when you look out the kitchen window, you see a line of dead blackberry bushes along the back fence. Sex stuff takes more life-force than anything else. All the more reason for this to never happen again.

Tomura’s presence slips into the room, surrounding you like he does sometimes. Usually you shoo him away, or threaten to leave until he slinks off, sulking. Today you can’t. You coped okay with your first orgasm, but you were alone. You know you’d have felt weird if you hadn’t been, and if the person who talked you through it had ignored you afterward. You let him settle in, staring fixedly at the dead bushes along the fence. Only one or two are still alive.

Tomura’s voice rasps against your ear. “Do I have to do that every time?”

“There’s not going to be another time,” you say. “It’s my fault for touching you like that last night, and you told me not to do it again. So we’re good.”

“It felt good.” Tomura sounds sure about that. Your stomach twists. “It only felt bad because I didn’t know what to do. Now I know.”

“I’m still not touching you like that again. You said no. I can’t ask you to respect my  boundaries when I don’t respect yours.”

“What if I take it back?” Tomura asks. The twist in your stomach is painful this time. “What if I want you to touch me?”

“Then it starts being about what I want,” you say. “And I don’t want to.”

It’s a lie. You’re lying. Another human would know you were, would know by the heat of your body and the flush in your cheeks and the heavy, painful sound of your heartbeat. “You don’t want to,” Tomura repeats. His presence slips away again, going to some place far enough that you can barely feel it. “I didn’t say I wanted it. Like I’d ever want you to touch me.”

His voice is the last thing to vanish. You want to stick your head under the faucet and drown. “Fine.”

There’s something wrong with your house, but you knew that when you bought it, and after the hand-touching incident and everything that followed, the atmosphere in your house feels worse than it ever has before. You don’t know where Tomura’s going, but there are times when his presence vanishes almost completely, and when it does, you can barely stand the emptiness he leaves behind. You never lived alone until you lived here, and you thought you loved it. Now you realize that you were never living here alone at all. Until now.

The jar of bugs start piling up on the front porch, and rather than letting them die, you let them go. You don’t tell the others to stop bringing them. Some part of you is hoping Tomura will come back, that you can go back to the way things were before, but you don’t need one of Aizawa’s guidebooks to tell you that it’s not happening. You rejected him. And if there’s anything you’ve taught Tomura about how humans work, it’s that no means no.

You start spending extra time at work. Sometimes you bring Phantom with you, with Mr. Yagi’s permission, and it makes you popular with your coworkers like you never were before. You still hate it, but it makes it easier to be at work. And it means you don’t have to go home until you’re ready.

At least, most days you don’t. But you woke up with a splitting headache today, and a sore throat, and because you weren’t coughing, you decided that you didn’t have an excuse to skip work. You leave Phantom at home and drag yourself into the office, and you get through four hours of your workday before Mr. Yagi spots you and sends you home. Your pleas not to go home fall on deaf ears, and you drive home slowly, struggling to keep your eyes fixed on the road in front of you.

When you get home, Phantom greets you anxiously. She knows you’re not feeling well, and when you sit down in the front hall to pet her, you realize that you’re going to have a hard time getting up. It doesn’t matter. You can take a break. You let your eyes fall shut.

When you wake up, it’s to grey, rainy, late-afternoon light falling over your face, the sound of Phantom whining in your ear, and a voice you haven’t heard in three weeks. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Tomura,” you mumble. You were hoping sleep would make you feel better, but it feels like your headache’s actually gotten worse. “I’m fine. Just wanted to sit down.”

“Don’t be stupid. And don’t lie.” Even the sound of Tomura’s footsteps across the floor hurts your head, not to mention Phantom’s whining. “You fell asleep on the floor. You’re making this weird face. You don’t look right. What’s wrong with you?”

He almost sounds worried. “My boss sent me home. He thinks I’m sick.”

“Are you sick?” Tomura asks. You think about lying, decide not to, and nod. The pain that splits your skull makes you want to throw up. “Can you fix it?”

You have cold medicine somewhere, and pain relievers, but you’d have to get up to get them, and you’re so dizzy. Maybe you should call somebody for help, but who would you call? Nobody in your neighborhood is going to set foot in your house, and you don’t have any friends from work. And all your old friends have started to slip away, courtesy of your new world, your new friends, your new life. Who do you have to call? Nobody. The thought makes you sad, and feeling sad makes you even more tired than before.

“Wake up,” Tomura snaps at you. Phantom whines and licks your face. “Stop it. Wake up!”

Phantom’s worried. Tomura’s mad at you. Somewhere in your clouded mind, it occurs to you that you need help. That maybe it doesn’t matter who you call as long as you call somebody. You pull your phone out of your backpack and get as far as unlocking it. Then your head starts to ache worse than before, a dull pounding that fills every crevice and corner of your skull. Everything feels hot and humid and awful. You shut your eyes again. Anything to make it stop.

You’re cold when you wake up again. Well, some of you is cold. There’s a small warm patch on your stomach, but the rest of you is cold. Not regular cold. Tomura’s cold. He’s materialized, completely or close enough, and he’s holding onto you awkwardly with one arm while Phantom rests her head on your stomach. You can hear Tomura’s voice. He sounds pissed. “If I knew what was wrong with her I’d say it,” he snaps at whoever he’s talking to. “She keeps falling asleep. She’s not supposed to be home yet. She’s too warm.”

“So she’s sick.” That’s Keigo’s voice. Is Keigo here? Why did Tomura let Keigo in the house? “And she’s sleeping a lot?”

“I said that already. Stop repeating what I already said.”

“What are her symptoms?” That’s Aizawa’s voice. It starts to dawn on you slowly what’s happening here, and you almost laugh. “Symptoms. You named some of them already. Fatigue. Fever. Is she coughing?”

“No.”

“Does her breathing sound different than it usually does?” Jin’s mom is talking. Now you know for sure. “Does she have a rash?”

“Her breathing sounds normal,” Tomura says. He’s on the phone. He somehow unlocked your phone, went into your text messages, and conference-called the entire ghost friends group chat. You’d laugh if you weren’t worried it would make your head explode. “What’s a rash?”

“It would be on her skin. Does her skin look like it usually looks?”

An ice-cold hand brushes over your cheek. “It’s too hot. Her face is red. The rest of it looks okay.”

“Check for bites. We brought over tons of bugs. If enough of them bit her –”

“Hitoshi, hang up the phone,” Aizawa orders. “You’re supposed to be at school.”

“You’re supposed to be driving,” Shinsou fires back. “You’re picking up Eri from school early because she’s sick.”

Eri’s sick. You claw your way out of semi-consciousness and grasp the phone. “Does she have what I have?”

“Oh, good. You’re alive,” Keigo says. “Your ghost was pretty panicked.”

“I wasn’t panicked. Shut up.” Tomura’s grip on you tightens. “Someone else is sick?”

“She fell asleep in class. She has a headache and a fever,” Aizawa says. He sounds unhappy. “When would she possibly have been exposed?”

“We brought over some bugs last night,” Shinsou says. “Maybe it was then.”

“It could have gone the other way, too,” Jin’s mom says. “Kids get sick a lot easier than adults.”

“Good point. Maybe Eri got it first and brought it –”

“But Shinsou isn’t sick. If Shinsou lives with her and isn’t sick, how come –”

“I don’t care,” Tomura says loudly. “I don’t care about your sick kid. I want to know how to fix my human.”

Tomura’s making a great first impression. You’ll be doing damage control with Aizawa later, once you feel less like a puddle of body aches and sweat. “If she’s got what Eri’s got, it’s probably the flu,” Jin’s mom says. “She should have cold medicine on hand. Most people do. Pain relievers for the headache and body aches, cough drops if she has a sore throat. And she’ll need to eat. Do you know how humans eat?”

“I’m not stupid. I know how food works.”

“Don’t cook,” Aizawa, Shinsou, and Keigo all say at once. Keigo keeps talking. “You’re not embodied. You don’t have tastebuds. Whatever you end up cooking is going to be –”

There’s a scuffle on Keigo’s end of the line. “It’s going to be fuck awful,” Dabi announces, and Shinsou snickers. “Go ahead and poison your human. See if I care.”

“The next time you even look at my human I’m going to disintegrate your ugly face.”

“My ugly face? Have you seen what you look like? I’m surprised your human hasn’t gone blind.”

Tomura snarls. “At least I never set my human on fire –”

“You’re both pretty,” you mumble, and Keigo cracks up laughing. “I’m not that sick. I can heat up a can of soup in the microwave.”

“You’re so stupid. You fell asleep on the floor,” Tomura snaps at you. “You can’t do anything. I’m going to have to drag you everywhere.”

“No one made you touch me,” you protest. “If you weren’t here –”

“Well, I am here. So shut up and let me –”

“If you two are going to have a domestic, hang up the phone first,” Hizashi says loudly. You didn’t realize he was there. You jump, and your head collides with Tomura’s chin. He swears and so do you. “One of us will stop by later to make sure neither of you are dead. Goodbye.”

There’s a click as he hangs up the phone. Shinsou hangs up a second later. Jin’s mother hangs up after promising to bring over some food, and Keigo stays on the phone a little longer. “I’ll drop by in an hour or two, like Hizashi says. Can you promise not to kill me if I set foot in the house?”

“The only person I’m going to kill is your idiot ghost.”

“Cool,” Keigo says. You can hear Dabi arguing in the background that it’s not cool at all. “Bye.”

He hangs up the phone, too. Now it’s just you and Tomura and Phantom, piled up on the couch in the living room. You don’t remember getting to the living room. Tomura must have dragged you, like he said. You thought he was so mad at you that he was never going to show himself again. Apparently not.

“What’s a domestic?” Tomura asks after a while.

“A fight,” you say. “Just another word for fight.”

“Then why didn’t he just say a fight?”

You really don’t want to get into this right now. “A domestic is a kind of fight. The kind couples have. He was making fun of us by pretending we’re a couple.”

“I don’t like him,” Tomura says after a moment. “I can kill him for you.”

“Don’t do that,” you say.

“He scares you.” Tomura scratches at his neck with the hand that’s not gripping your shoulder. “If I can’t not scare you, I might as well be the only thing that does.”

Maybe you’re just sick and stupid, but you don’t hate the sound of that. “That’s kind of sweet.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Tomura says. He slides out from behind you and drops you onto the couch with a thud. You see a patchy flush on his face before he turns away. “I’m getting your medicine. Stay there.”

You’re not really in a position to go anywhere. You scratch behind Phantom’s ears with a shaky hand and close your eyes again.

When you wake up, you find that Tomura’s turned your medicine cabinet inside out and brought you absolutely everything. Sorting through it is the first laugh you’ve had in a while, and once you’ve got a double dose of painkillers on board, you’re willing to risk it. “Why did you bring this?” you ask, waving a box of band-aids at him. “You’ve seen me use these. You know they’re not for this.”

“How am I supposed to know that? You use stuff that’s not for the stuff you’re using it for all the time.” Tomura snatches the band-aids away and picks up another box. “What are these?”

“You definitely didn’t need to bring those,” you say. “They’re condoms.”

“What?”

It figures. He didn’t know male from female until Hizashi told him, but he clearly has certain associations with condoms, and he doesn’t like them. Probably because of all the movies you didn’t know he was watching with you. “Relax. Does that box look open to you?”

“No,” Tomura says, inspecting it from all angles. “If it’s not open, why do you have it?”

“In case I need it,” you say. “I don’t need it right now.”

In fact, you’re having a hard time imagining that you’ll ever need condoms again. You can’t exactly bring anybody home to hook up with, not with Tomura constantly lurking around, and you like sleeping in your own bed too much to spend the night at anybody else’s house. Beyond that, if you ever wanted to get serious with anybody, you’d have to explain about your house, about Tomura. There’s no way to explain that. No way to explain him in a way that won’t end any relationship instantly. Maybe it’s just that you’re sick, but you find that you don’t mind the thought.

You choose a box of cold medicine and swallow a dose of it, then pop a cough drop into your mouth to soothe your throat. Tomura watches you the entire time, only partially materialized. “Does that taste good?”

“No. It numbs my throat so it hurts less.”

“What do you do when things hurt?”

You were going to try to fall asleep again as soon as you’re done with your cough drop, but Tomura’s in a mood to talk. And as much as you hate to admit it, you miss talking to Tomura. “There are different kinds of hurt, for people. If it hurts physically, like this does, I can take medicine. I can put ice on a bruise or use a heating pad for cramps. There are ointments that have numbing agents in them, same as the cough drops. There are lots of things to do when something physically hurts.”

“If something hurts my body, I can dematerialize,” Tomura says. You wish it was that easy for you. If you could evaporate right now, you’d do it in a heartbeat. “What about other kinds of hurting?”

“Um –” You break off, trying to wrap your head around it. “Emotions hurt sometimes. The bad ones, usually. Being sad or angry or lonely or scared – all of those can feel like they hurt. They can hurt a lot.”

“How do you make them go away?”

“You can’t,” you say. Tomura’s expression darkens. “There’s not medicine that fixes feelings, at least not all the way. You just have to live with them until they stop. Or until you get used to them.”

“That’s stupid,” Tomura says.

“You’re telling me.” You close your eyes. “I guess talking about them helps sometimes. Not for everybody, not all the time, but it can make you feel less alone.”

“I didn’t hate being alone before,” Tomura says. You open your eyes and find him scowling, his face flushed. “Now I do.”

You want to remind him that he’s the one who pulled away, that he’s the one who left, but there’s no point. You roll over instead, facing the back of the couch, and the words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them. “I missed you.”

You couldn’t have picked a dumber thing to say. Tomura’s got the emotional maturity of a frat guy – he gets mad easily and takes “no” poorly and makes you explain your boundaries five billion times before he even thinks about respecting them. Telling a guy like him that you missed him is a one-way ticket to being mocked for being needy and clingy and pathetic. You can already feel your eyes burning in anticipation of being humiliated.

But Tomura’s not a human man. He’s a ghost. The rush of air filling a previously occupied space tells you he’s dematerialized, but the cold settles around you, and his voice rasps in your ear. “I missed you too. Idiot.”

“You’re the one who left,” you answer. “You’re an idiot, too.”

You’re expecting him to slip away again. Instead the cold spot envelops you more securely than before. “Shut up.”

You fall asleep like that, and when you wake up, it’s to the sound of the fire alarm going off. Tomura’s watched you cook plenty of times and probably should know better, but apparently when you mentioned sticking a can of soup in the microwave, he took it literally. You should be pissed. You probably will be, once the cold medicine wears off. But at the moment, when you’re dizzy and sleepy and feverish, all you can think to do is be pleased that he tried at all.

Shiggy Drug Dealer to Yandere HCs

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

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

Master List

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

@palesweetscherryblossom

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Just thinking about Drug Dealer turned Yandere Shigaraki.

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

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

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

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

As if he doesn’t already know.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He literally sighs and looks away from you.

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

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

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

You ask Shigaraki why he cares so much.

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

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

You deserve better he says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But it does take a bit of the edge off.

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

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

It’s so good.

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

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

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

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

me too..me too...

I feel like Tomura Shigaraki was the reason and cause that I have a hand fetish/kink. I want him to choke me, stick his fingers in my mouth and tell me to "suck" them. I want him to throw me around like I'm a ragdoll - I'm down bad for this man 😭😵‍💫😳🥵💗💗

Hand Sizes

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Sundrop x Reader: Hand sizes

Sun’s hands tho..🌞 Results from the poll! Love it!

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None. I don’t think so anyway? LMK if you spot something that could be considered offensive.

If you wanna check out more of my works: Masterlist

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So far today was a normal day at the daycare. Sundrop was playing with the kiddos, You were observing to make sure everything was running smoothly.

Currently, You were sitting at the main desk, Looking over some Pizzaplex stuff before noticing Sundrop waving you over.

He was squatting next to a crying little girl, So you jogged over as quick as you could. “ Hey Sunny, Is everything okay?”

Sun looked up at you. “ Little McKenzie here lost her Freddy plush, Can you please go grab an extra one from the storage closet?” Sundrop had a tone of concern in his voice.

You nodded. “ Okay! I’ll be right back! It’s gonna be okay McKenzie!” You went off to get the plushie, While Sundrop tried to comfort her.

Once you got there, You noticed that the only Freddy plushie left was one of the bigger ones. You hummed, Hoping she will be fine with it. You grabbed the plush with both hands, Since it was a little bigger than a regular one.

You quickly got back to Sun and the little girl, At this point Sun managed to get her to stop crying. You squatted down in front of them, Holding out the plush a bit. “ McKenzie, Look! Your friend Freddy came back!” You wiggled the plush a bit.

She immediately lit up with joy, grabbing the plush from you, Hugging it tightly. You chuckled at the fact that this plush was basically a third of her body. She didn’t seem to mind the plush size, Which made you feel relieved. Sundrop however noticed it..

She ran off, Screaming ‘thank you!’

You just laughed, While you and Sun stood up straight again. You then looked at eachother, You were smiling at him. “ So, Did you need anything else Sunny?”

“ Your hands!”

“ Excuse me?” You head tilted, Face filled with confusion. Sun drop just laughed. “ Sorry! It’s just, Your hands looked so small! Normally when I hold that size plush, I just need one of mine.”

You then looked at your hands. “ Oh..Yeah?”

Sundrop nodded. “ Yeah! Wait, Let me see your hands!”

You raised an eyebrow, Before holding your hands out for Sun. He put his hands against yours.

“ Oh wow! Your hands are very small compared to mine!” He laughed. You chuckled as well, Your face growing a bit warm. “ Yeah! I’ve noticed that before though.”

“ You have?”

Now your face felt hotter. “ Well..Yeah. I watch you play with the kids almost all the time so..I’ve noticed a couple of details about you.”

If Sun could smile wider, He would. “ Oh! Well…” He then laced his fingers with yours. “ One of these days, I’d love to hear more about these ‘little details’ you’ve notice about me!”

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I hope you enjoyed! I’ll definitely write a One-Shot for Moon too one day.