I'll Have To Do A Drawing Of That With Mha X Cult Of The Land !✨🤌

I kinda messed up but i think it's still great ! I hope 😂

Hiii ^^ can i ask you something ? A yandere shigaraki who kidnapped is darling aka is favorite streamer ? So a YandereShigarakixfem reader pls^^ have a good day/night💗✨

Omg, I'm finally done! Thanks for the ask :). Sorry but the kidnapping part didn't make it in the story but other than that I tried my best to write what you wanted. I hope you like it 💝. (This is one of my more fucked up stories)

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Your Biggest Fan

Warning: Smut-ish, Hints at noncon, Male masturbation, Obsessive behavior, Tracking, Breaking and entering, Language.

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"PLAYER TWO WINS!"

Tomura scuffed at the words on his screen. He had never lost this many times in all his years of gaming. It was absolutely embarrassing. Especially when it was to a cheat like you. You had to have been cheating. You innocently joined his game saying,

"I've never played this before. Sorry if I'm bad." And you were. You were terrible, awful. He kicked your ass so many times. Game, after game, after game, after game... You would whine and beg for him to let you win or at the very least, go easy on you. And he would simply smile and promise to go easy on you, just to beat the shit out of you anyway. Then it changed. Suddenly, you got the upper hand. He had turned on autopilot at that point so he was completely caught off guard by your sudden increase of skill. For the first time, he lost to you. In the beginning, he was too shocked to be mad. Then, it kept happening. After that day, he couldn't seem to get even a single win. It was beyond embarrassing.

StarPlayer06: "Looks like I win again."

Villain_King444: "You got lucky."

StarPlayer06: "Three times in a row?"

Tomura gritted his teeth.

StarPlayer06: "You should watch my streams. Maybe you'll learn a thing or two."

Streams? Tomura had known you for a few months now but he never really had conversations with you about things that weren't video games. Maybe you'd talk about your job or your friends but that was it. However, he was curious. What did you talk about? Was he on those streams? But most of all, what did you look like...? He shook the thought away. Your "streams" were probably just you acting all slutty to get a bunch of old men to give you money.

Villain_King444: "Not on your life."

StarPlayer 06: "Come on, don't be like that!"

Tomura rolled his eyes.

StarPlayer06: "If you change your mind, here's the link. I'd love to see you there ;)."

Villain_King444: "Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'm logging off."

StarPlayer06: "Aww. Goodnight :(."

Tomura leaned back in his chair, thinking. He knew he should just go to sleep. He knew he should just forget about it and go on with his life. He knew he had more important things to do. And yet. He sat up and pulled up your account. At first glance, it looked exactly how he thought it would. You had a cutesy username and a similarly cute profile picture and banner. Tomura brushed passed your home page and clicked on your most recent stream. It loaded for a minute before he could hear your soft voice in his headset. His eyes grew wide as your face filled his vision. You were beautiful. You looked totally different from what he had imagined. A light blush spread across his face as you introduced yourself and what game you were about to play. It was some horror game but it didn't matter. Nothing really mattered. Nothing but you.

Hours had gone by and he was still there watching video, after video. How could such a darling girl like you be right in front of his face the whole time without him even knowing? It felt like his whole world got turned upside down. He didn't even realize just how deep he was in your rabbit hole of content until he felt a hand on his shoulder. Tomura jolted up, swiveling around in his chair just to be met with a familiar face.

"Tomura Shigaraki, I'm sorry to disturb you but I brought you breakfast. If you're hungry that is." It was Kurogiri. Tomura sighed as he paused the video and pulled off his headset.

"Yeah... Yeah. I'll eat it." He replied, dazed.

"Are you okay, Tomura?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Now get out. I'm busy."

Kurogiri narrowed his eyes but backed down, exiting the room. The door closed with a click and as if on command, Tomura slumped down in his chair. What the hell was that? You were just some girl. That's all you were. Beautiful. But just some chick on the internet. Tomura looked down at the clock on his screen. 9:30am. He scoffed, as he stood up and headed to the bathroom. He needed a shower.

As the day went on, Tomura couldn't stop thinking about you. He wanted to but you plagued his mind like a virus. Your words were stuck in his head like a song. He wanted to keep watching. He needed to keep watching. To see your face, to hear your voice. He hated himself for it but as soon as he returned to his room, he sat down at his desk and pulled up your account once more. Turns out, you were live right then and there. He joined the stream and was instantly hit with a feeling a pleasure. Your sweet voice was all he could hear as he watched you. You had a habit of chatting before actually playing a game; you'd just sit and talk with your audience. Tomura could see how you very obviously skipped the weird messages you received, instead responding to more wholesome things like,

"How are you feeling today?"

"Did you see what happened on the news last night!? Scary!"

"When are you gonna play Trails of Odyssey?"

Your comments always seemed to look like this. It was boring. You had started talking about this new chair you wanted, so Tomura decided to leave a little message of his own.

User5141: [User 5141 donated $200] "Is this enough for it, beautiful?"

He watched as you froze at the amount of money presented to you. A devilish grin formed on his lips as he awaited your response.

"Oh my... Thank you. You really didn't have to do that! It's like four hundred dollars anyway. It's more like a dream chair then something I'm actually aiming for."

You laughed at the end, trying to lighten the situation.

User5141: [User5141 donated $200] "Well then this should be enough. Don't worry about me. You deserve it."

Your eyes widened as you put a hand over your mouth.

"Thank you so much!"

Your reply was muffled by your hands but the look of happiness on your face said all he needed to hear. The comment section was practically bursting with things to say about him. It ranged from calling him a show off to complimenting his generosity. But Tomura didn't really care, the only thing he cared about was you. And you were ecstatic. The fact that he made you happy gave him shivers. If you wanted to be taken care of the only thing you had to do was ask. He was more than willing to pamper such a darling girl. A tightness grew in his pants as he continued to watch you. It was finally time to start the game but now Tomura had more important things to take care of. A wave of relief washed over him as he unzipped his pants. This was gonna be a long night.

Day after day, this became a habit.

"[User5141 donated $200]"

"[User5141 donated $300]"

"[User5141 donated $500]"

Tomura couldn't help it. 700, 800, 900. The high he got just felt too good. 1,000, 2,000. At this rate he was paying your rent. 5,000. Drool fell from his mouth as he watched your face distort in horror. He bucked his hips into his hand once again.

"I... Umm... Thank y-you. It's very appreciated but... I don't wanna be rude but don't you have a life too?"

You gulped, then faked a smile.

User5141: "You are my life."

Your smile wavered but still stood.

"You're so sweet."

Tomura's eyes rolled to the back of his head as he came all over his hand. He loved this. He loved you. But he especially loved how naive you were. The day before, you actually came to him about this "mystery donor." It was exhilarating to know he had such an impression on you. Now maybe you thought about him just as much as he thought about you.

StarPlayer06: "They sent me 2,000 dollars yesterday. It's not like I'm complaining but it's starting to get creepy."

Villain_King444: "Well, they must really like you."

StarPlayer06: "Who's crazy enough to pay someone they don't even know 2,000 dollars!?"

Villain_King444: "Don't bite the hand that feeds you. Literally."

StarPlayer06: ">:( For the record, I feed myself. I appreciate them but I don't need their help."

Villain_King444: "Then what are you gonna do with the money?"

StarPlayer06: "Idk but I've been eating out a lot more."

Villain_King444: "Lucky girl."

StarPlayer06: "Ikr."

Tomura relished in the feeling you gave him. Such a naive girl... However, he still wasn't satisfied. He wanted you to need him. To rely on him and him alone. That's why today he raised the bar. 5,000. But maybe that wasn't enough. 8,000. How would you respond to that? He bit his lip in anticipation, stroking himself another time. He was in heaven.

The next month went by just like that. Him watching your streams, donating ungodly amounts of money, then you two having a conversation about it later. Tomura had no complaints about his life; as long as he could watch you, he was happy. Or at least that's what he thought. He quickly started to realize that wasn't the case. On some days you decide to cut out gaming entirely and just talk. He loved those streams. In this one in particular you wanted to show everyone the outfit you just bought. The outfit you bought with his money. You stood up and there it was. You looked stunning. Tomura wanted to reach out and grab you, yank you, pull you, wreck you. But you were on the other side of the screen.

Another time, you had a guest over. He was a tall, young looking man, probably the same age as you. The chat went crazy when he showed up, saying all sorts of dumb things like,

"Is he your boyfriend!?"

"You two look so cute together!"

"I wish I was him."

Tomura hated it. He wanted to reach through the screen and wring his neck. You continued to tell your audience that he was just a friend but Tomura wasn't buying it. How could he know for sure unless he was there? Unless he was there... The idea shot into his mind like a bullet. Why couldn't he be there? Why couldn't he be the one you talked to everyday? That you invited onto your streams? That your horny viewers envied? You two were made for each other and it was time to stop pretending like you weren't. If you didn't need him now, he was gonna make you need him. Tomura smiled as he dropped his final donation on your stream.

User5141: [User5141 donated $1] "See you soon."

Tomura had always been a good hacker. That's why when it came to finding people for the league, he was the guy. As long as they had a device, he could find them. The fact that you were already live made this child's play. He had your location within minutes. You lived in the city right next to him. Not even out of state... Not that it would have mattered. He would have found some way to fly out there. But with this, he only needed to take a train.

It was 8:00pm and you just finished your stream for the day. You sighed, stood up from your chair, and walked to bed. You grabbed your phone and simply laid on your back above the covers. You were too tired to do anything but lay there. Your eye lids were heavy and no matter how much you blinked, the feeling of exhaustion didn't go away. You sighed as you put your phone back in its place. Your body decided more than your mind to just stare at the ceiling and let sleep wash over you. There was a subtle creak that came from your closet but it fit right in with all the other noises of the night, causing your brain to filter it out. Big mistake... The wind got harshly knocked out of you as something heavy sat on your stomach. Your eyes shot open and there was a person.

"I've been waiting so long for this moment..."

You screamed and tried to sit up just to be harshly pushed down again.

"Is that any way to treat a fan?"

They had a tight grip on your arms pinning them to your sides. The pain from their nails digging into your skin kept you quiet.

"Oh you're absolutely lovely... How did I get so lucky with you?"

You stared at them, your features all scrunched up in fear. They tilted their head.

"What's with that look? Don't you know who I am?"

"N-No." You replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Does Villain King ring any bells?"

Your eyes widened.

"Oh and... Your highest donor..."

Your blood ran cold. It was him the whole time. Then he was even crazy enough to track you down and break into your home.

"Why...?" Was all you could mange to ask.

"I thought that would be obvious. It's because I love you."

"Love me? H-How could you possibly love me!?" You asked, anger and sadness swelling in your throat and coating your words.

"How could I not!? You're nice, caring, funny. You have the body of a goddess and the voice of an angel. You're the most perfect person I've ever met."

You swallowed hard as his words hit your ears. Slowly the moon peeked through the window illuminating the room and your intruder. His face was scarred and wrinkled with a little birth mark below his lips. His crimson eyes pierced your soul, giving you shivers. He looked at you like prey. The lamb. And the wolf.

A groan escaped his lips, breaking your trance.

"You turn me on so much, you know...?" He said, letting one of your arms go to lift his hoodie. Sweat rolled down your face as you watched him unbutton his pants. You quickly looked back up at him just to see him smiling like a maniac. Your eyes darted from his face to his bulge over and over. You couldn't believe this was happening. In a moment of pure adrenaline you used your free hand to try and push him away. You squirmed and kicked. Pushed and hit. But to no avail. He didn't even seem phased by it, just grabbing your arm once more. Tears started to roll down your face as you looked up at him.

"Shhh..." He cooed.

"Don't worry. I'm gonna fuck you so good you won't want me to stop."

——————————————————————

Shigaraki is a missionary man you can’t tell me otherwise.

He likes the whole power dynamic of putting you on your back and being on top, crowding into your personal space, giving you nothing else to focus on but him. Does he like the other positions? Sure. He’s not exactly going to turn down sex.

But his favourite is you pressed beneath him, panting, gasping. He loves being smug about how you ‘had so much to say before’, and watching as embarrassment forces you to hide your face in his shoulder. He likes your faces being so close, noses brushing and foreheads touching. He likes your sounds in his ear, the messy, yearning kisses that you give him. He likes being able to hide his own face in your chest when he’s about to cum, and the way your hands move over his body and your legs lock around his hips to keep him inside.

He’ll act like missionary annoys him because he has to do all the work, and like the only reason he agrees to it is because he wants to see you squirm (which is also true). But ultimately, shigaraki craves missionary - he craves the intimacy of it all.

Aftermath >;3

Start / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Aftermath (you're here!) / Super Secret After Credits Sequence Haha Funny

rejoice

Bonus:

Well..Tomura come here baby🤌✨

Who is it?💕

the crying game - a shigaraki x f!reader oneshot

You gave up on love a long time ago, but you keep getting invited to weddings, and after eleven receptions spent at the single's table, you're almost at the end of your rope -- until first-time wedding guest Shigaraki Tomura asks you to show him how it's done. (5.7k words, modern AU, no quirks.)

This fic is for @arslansenkai, who saw my milestone post and requested the prompts ‘holding hands’ + ‘listening to the other’s heartbeat’ + ‘whispering in their ear, lips touching the skin’ from this list. Thank you so much for the prompt! I really enjoyed writing it and I swear all three of your prompts made it in here or there.

You hate weddings. You don’t remember when you started hating them, but you know why you started – right around the time when you realized that you’d never have another one of your own, that you’d always be attending someone else’s, and doing that all by yourself, too. Add in the cost of a new dress and new shoes (God forbid you wear the same thing twice in one year) and travel accommodations and a wedding present, and weddings become a big, expensive, depressing waste of a weekend. No matter how much you like the people who are getting married.

And you do like them, this time, even though they’re the twelfth couple from your department at Ultra, Inc. to get married in the last three years. Ochako and Himiko are the kind of couple who shouldn’t make sense, but somehow do – the kind of against-all-odds couple who’d make you believe in love if you didn’t know better. You were rooting for them, you’re glad they’re together, and getting their save-the-date still made you want to drown yourself in the toilet. You opted to drown in vodka instead. You need help.

You need help, and you’re going to get it. After this wedding. So you can figure out how to say no the next time you get an invite. Because out of all the indignities about going single to a wedding, getting stuck at the same table at the wedding reception as the other people who couldn’t snare a date is possibly the worst.

Most couples have at least a few single friends, but Himiko and Ochako are the last of their respective circles to couple up. Or almost-last. The singles table at their wedding included exactly five people at the start of the reception. You, an older woman named Magne, a guy your age whose place-card says Todoroki Touya but insisted that he goes by Dabi, another guy your age whose place-card says Takami Keigo but insisted you call him Hawks, and one more guy your age whose place-card says Shigaraki Tomura and who barely looked up when you introduced yourself.

It wasn’t the worst singles table you’d ever sat at, at the start. Then Magne bailed to sit with somebody she knew at a different table, and Dabi and Hawks hit it off and then snuck off to God knows where, and then it was just you and Shigaraki sitting at your table in the far back corner of the reception hall. That’s how it’s been for an hour, and the only interaction the two of you have had is when you’ve passed the table’s bottle of champagne back and forth, filling your glasses and then draining them out of sync. It’s depressing. After going to eleven weddings in two years, you can hang in there with the best of them, but you’re pretty sure you’re about to crack.

Your glass is empty, and when you reach for the bottle, you find that it’s empty, too. You want to get more, but you’re not going to look like a lush in front of your weird tablemate. “Hey,” you say, and Shigaraki looks up from the screen of his Switch. “This is empty. I’ll go get more if you want it.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Shigaraki says. You raise your eyebrows. “This will suck just as bad whether I’m wasted or not.”

“Yeah,” you admit. “But then you’ll be able to pretend it sucks because you’re wasted, not because you’re stuck at the singles table yet again.”

“Yet again? Sounds like you’re projecting,” Shigaraki says. You shrug. It would hurt more if you hadn’t heard the same thing from at least one person at the last three weddings you went to – usually towards the end of the reception, usually when everybody’s getting weepy and ridiculous. You’re ahead of schedule this time. “Sure. I’ll take more.”

Two tables over, a group of happy couples have abandoned their champagne bucket in favor of the dance floor – or the photo booth, or something. You swap your empty bottle for their full one and come back over, hoping Shigaraki will have gone back to his game and forgotten you existed. No such luck. He’s sitting up, watching you, as you sit down, fill your glass, and slide the bottle back across the table to Shigaraki. “Yet again,” he repeats. You down half your glass in a single swallow. “I’m only halfway through the first one of these stupid things I’ve been to and I’m already done. How many times have you put yourself through it?”

“Eleven,” you say. Shigaraki’s red eyes widen. “No, that’s just people from work. If I count friends from school, it’s, uh – sixteen.”

“If you’re this miserable, stop going.”

“Is that what you do?” you challenge. “When your friends invite you to celebrate the happiest day of their lives, you just don’t go?”

“My friends know better than to invite me to shit like this.” Shigaraki copies you and drains half his glass in one go. “I wouldn’t have come to this one, except Toga critical-hit me with this guilt trip about how we’re her family and she needs her family to be here –”

You did notice a conspicuous lack of parents or relatives on Toga’s side of the aisle. “And I said I’d go if I didn’t have to go alone,” Shigaraki continues. “Dabi was supposed to be doing time with me. Figures he’d score a hookup and bolt.”

“I didn’t know you knew each other,” you say. They barely talked when Dabi was sitting here. “How do you know Himiko?”

“Juvie,” Shigaraki says, and you’re not sober enough to keep the surprise from showing all over your face. He snickers. “Not what you expected?”

You shake your head. “Is that where you know Dabi from?”

“And Spinner,” Shigaraki says, pointing out a purple-haired guy at a different table. “And Twice. Magne was a peer counselor or something. If I hadn’t met them I probably would have killed myself in there.”

You can’t stop your surprise from showing this time, either. Shigaraki grimaces. “Don’t read into that.”

“No promises,” you say. Shigaraki snorts and lifts his glass partway, then drains it. “So you’ve known each other for a while.”

“Yeah. I’m guessing you’re friends with the girlfriend. Wife.” Shigaraki refills his glass again, but leaves it alone for the time being. “How long have you known her?”

“Work,” you say, then facepalm. You’re lucky you manage to do it with the hand not holding your glass of champagne. “Two years or so. I already worked there when she was hired. I kind of watched the whole thing with Himiko from the sidelines.”

That’s how you always watch relationships play out at work, or anywhere, really. Pretending to be happy, really being happy, and still feeling like you’re pulling a tarp over the sinkhole in your chest. “So the wife invited you and you showed up even though you knew you’d hate it,” Shigaraki concludes. “You’re crazier than me. I’m never going to another one of these things again.”

“Not even your own?”

“Do I look like the kind of person somebody marries?” Shigaraki finishes his whole glass in a single swallow. You were thinking about trying to keep up with him, but if you try that, you’ll throw up all over the dress you had to buy, which is probably dry-clean only or something worse. “I don’t get why anyone goes to these things.”

“They’re supposed to be fun,” you say. You feel bad picking on Ochako’s wedding. It’s not Ochako’s fault that you’re single, bitter about it, and this close to drunk on alcohol she paid for. “But they’re usually only fun if you go with someone.”

“I went with somebody. He ditched me to hook up with a guy who named himself after a bird.”

You snicker at that. “I meant a date,” you clarify. “If your date ditches you to hook up, then you’ve got bigger problems than whether you’re having fun at a wedding.”

“He’s not my date. I’m not gay.” Shigaraki looks up. “Did you think I was gay?”

“I really didn’t – think,” you admit. You didn’t come to the wedding looking for a hookup. If you had, you’d have tried to put a move on Hawks before Dabi could. “The activities are more fun with a date.”

“Activities?” Shigaraki asks. “Like games?”

“Uh, sometimes,” you say. You know Ochako set up lawn games outside, and the sun won’t set for a while. “Sometimes there’s an art project you’re supposed to do for the couple, as a keepsake or something. I went to one last year where you were supposed to write a good wish, fold it into a paper crane, and then hang it off a branch of this tree they’d bought.”

“Too much work. What else?”

“Dancing,” you say, although you felt like that was pretty obvious. “And Himiko and Ochako have a photo booth.”

Shigaraki’s nose wrinkles. “Why?”

“As a keepsake for the guests, I guess,” you say. “Again. More of a couple thing.”

“Huh.” Shigaraki pours half a glass this time but still finishes it in one swallow. Then he stands up. “Let’s do it.”

You freeze in the act of pouring yourself another glass. “What?”

“I’m never coming to another wedding. You’re bored and drunk –”

“I’m not the one who’s been treating glasses like shots.”

“So let’s do it,” Shigaraki says, like you didn’t say a word. “If this is the last one I go to, I want to get my money’s worth. Do you have something better to do?”

You were this close to taking out your phone and opening up Tinder. You shake your head. “Finish that,” Shigaraki says, and you finish the half-glass you just poured and get to your feet. “Where’s the stupid photo booth?”

You lead the way. Even in heels, you’re faster than Shigaraki – he’s meandering a little bit, possibly due to all the champagne. You reach out and grab his hand to pull him back on course. He jumps, stumbles into an empty table, and glares at you. “What are you doing?”

“You wanted the wedding date experience. Holding hands is included.” At least you think it should be. If you had a real date you’d want to hold hands with them. Shigaraki follows you a little more closely than before as you make your way up to the photo booth. “It looks like they have props. Should we use them?”

Shigaraki hasn’t let go of your hand. He picks up a fake mustache on a stick. “Who would use this?”

“Me, maybe?” If you had a wedding date, you’d want to be spontaneous and fun. You lift it out of his hand and hold it up to your face. “What do you think?”

“No.” Shigaraki takes it away, puts it back, and picks up a flower crown. “Here.”

“No, that’s for you,” you say. Shigaraki argues, but you pluck it out of his hand and settle it on his head anyway. “See? It looks great.”

“If Dabi sees me wearing this stupid thing –”

“He’ll be jealous,” you say. The crown would look stupid on Dabi’s spiky black hair, but the pastel shades of the flowers look nice with Shigaraki’s blue-grey hair. “Okay. Now you can pick one for me. I’ll even do the mustache.”

“No,” Shigaraki says again. He sorts through the props and comes up with a headband with bunny ears. “This one.”

You two are going to look ridiculous. It’s hard not to laugh, and you haven’t even seen the full effect yet. You put on the headband, thankful that you went for a low-effort hairstyle that’s easy to fix, then pull the curtain on the photo booth and wedge yourself into it. Shigaraki follows you in.

It’s a really tight fit. You were pretty sure the photo booth was a couple activity, but now you’re sure – you love your friends, but you wouldn’t want to end up most of the way into any of their laps. You have to stop holding hands to try to get situated, and while you’re still trying to figure yourselves out, the photo booth takes the first picture. Shigaraki grimaces. “Wait. That probably looked stupid. Where –”

The booth takes the second picture while he’s talking, and you snort. There’s about a ten-second interval to get positioned correctly. You manage to face front in time, but your elbow lands on Shigaraki’s thigh as you’re trying to steady yourself, and he flinches away. You drop out of the frame as the booth snaps the third photo, and it occurs to you that the only part of you visible in the picture will be the bunny ears. Based on the location of the ears in relation to Shigaraki’s body, it’s going to look pretty compromising. You hope no one sees that picture. Ever.

Shigaraki’s snickering as you sit up. “Nice one. I want a copy of – hey!”

You’ve elbowed him on purpose this time, just in time for the fourth photo. The fifth photo’s probably going to be blurry. You’re both lightly shoving each other, trying to get each other out of your personal space without pushing either of you out of the photo booth itself. The sixth photo’s probably the only one that’s worth anything, and it won’t be very good, either – Shigaraki’s flower crown is off-kilter, and you’re pretty sure your headband’s falling off. The printer begins to whir, and the two of you sit in silence as the booth prints out two sets of photos. You pick one up. Shigaraki takes the other. A second later, you’re both laughing.

The photos look even worse than you thought, and somehow that makes them better. The photo where it’s just your ears in the frame features Shigaraki staring down into his lap, looking all kinds of startled, while the photo where you’re pushing each other is blurry enough to be a still from a found-footage horror movie. In your opinion, the first photo is the funniest. “We look like that meme with the cat,” you wheeze. “The one with the loading circle over its head.”

“The last one looks like a mug shot,” Shigaraki says, his laughter so raspy that it borders on a witch’s cackle. “After a bar fight –”

The idea of getting in a bar fight in your wedding outfit sets you off. You slump sideways at an angle and end up with your head against his chest for a few seconds, surprised that you can hear his heartbeat and surprised at how fast it’s beating. “Which of us won?”

“We both lost,” Shigaraki says, and you laugh harder. The two of you look disheveled as hell, and not from anything fun. “Number two is the worst one. You look good and I look like a dumbass.”

“You just had your mouth open,” you say, wiping your eyes. You’re probably smearing your makeup, but who gives a shit. You didn’t do that good of a job on it anyway. “Anyway, that’s the wedding photo booth experience. What do you think?”

“I want to go again,” Shigaraki says. This time, you manage to turn to stare at him without throwing any elbows. “For good ones. No way do people’s girlfriends let them leave with just the stupid ones.”

You would, but then again, there’s not a big enough difference between how you look in bad photos and how you look in good ones for it to matter. “We can do one more,” you agree. “Let’s lose the props.”

Without the flower crown and bunny ears, the silliness factor drops significantly. Now you look less like a couple of drunk clowns pretending to be a couple and more like two people who could actually be together. It weirds you out, but you promised the whole wedding date experience. In the seconds before the first flash goes off, you tilt your head onto Shigaraki’s shoulder.

Shigaraki startles, and as soon as the flash goes off, he pushes you away – but only so he can tilt sideways. He’s taller than you, enough so his cheek rests against the top of your head. Four photos left. When you glances over at Shigaraki, you see that his tie’s crooked, so you fix it for him, burning another photo in the bargain. The fourth photo is Shigaraki shifting the neckline of your dress to cover your bra strap, which is weird but plausible for a couple’s photo booth experience. He has a birthmark just below the right corner of his mouth. You aim for it when you kiss his cheek quickly for the fifth photo.

Shigaraki startles again, and you sit back – but not too far. You’re still close enough that Shigaraki only has to lean forward a few inches for his lips to meet yours.

You weren’t planning to kiss him. It’s not much of a kiss, and it doesn’t last long, but your heart is still racing as the booth spits out your second sheet of photos. You’re almost scared to look. Shigaraki’s hesitant, too, and when you both flip the sheets over to check, he says exactly what you’re thinking. “Shit.”

The first set of photos were a joke. The second set – either you and Shigaraki are really good actors or you’re both really drunk, because they look way too plausible for comfort. The ones where you’re fussing over each other’s clothes are probably the worst offenders on that front, but you’re most alarmed by the last two. You’re smiling as you kiss his cheek. You can see the corner of your mouth turned up. And you didn’t see where Shigaraki’s hand was when he kissed you, but the photo’s preserved the evidence. It’s right by the side of your face, curved like he wants to cradle your jaw in his hand.

Exactly sixty seconds ago, the two of you were screwing around in here. Now it feels like there’s static running back and forth between you, and you scramble out of the booth in a hurry, almost tripping over your feet. Shigaraki gets out, too, leaning against the booth to steady himself. Without a word, he takes both of your sets of photos and tucks them into his suit jacket along with his sets, then fills your suddenly-empty hand with his own. “Now what?”

The static shock is between your hands now. “My hand is humming,” you say, like an idiot, and Shigaraki tightens his grip. “Um, I think there are some games outside.”

“Fine.”

It’s warm outside, but getting cooler as the sun begins to set. There are a lot of games, and most of them are being ignored in favor of a bunch of the goofiest guys from your office playing cornhole while their girlfriends/boyfriends watch. You determine instantly that you’re not coordinated enough for anything that involves throwing something, which leaves you exactly one option. “How about that one?”

“Jenga?”

“Jenga XL,” you say. Shigaraki snorts. “My hand-eye coordination’s too bad right now for a throwing game. This will be safer.”

Whoever was playing the oversized Jenga last left the blocks in a heap. You and Shigaraki can’t hold hands while you stack them up, and as you do, your assumption that Jenga would be safer than something else gets tested in the most embarrassing way possible – and of course Shigaraki points it out. “You’re short. If this thing falls on you it’ll flatten you.”

“It won’t fall,” you say with more confidence than you feel. “I’m good at this.”

“Go first, then, if you’re so good at it.”

You get a block out without trouble, but you have to rely on Shigaraki to re-stack it for you, which he does, wearing a really frustrating smirk. “You should have worn taller shoes.”

“I can’t walk in taller shoes,” you say. “Or dance. Are you going to want to dance?”

“If it’s part of the wedding date experience, yeah.” Shigaraki carefully extracts his block and sets it on top of the tower. He’s not all that much taller than you. If the game goes on long enough, he’ll have trouble re-stacking. “They don’t exactly teach dance classes in juvie.”

“It’s not that kind of dancing,” you say. Shigaraki looks relieved. “If it’s going to be that kind of dancing, they warn you on the invitation. A friend of mine who got married last year only played swing music at her reception. She sent out a certificate for free lessons with her save-the-date.”

“Control issues?”

“I think she just wanted stuff her way,” you say. You ease another block out of the tower and hand it over to Shigaraki. “Hers was nice. Everything ran on time, and she sent out thank-you notes six weeks after the wedding.”

Shigaraki stacks your block, then pulls out one of his own. You realize with a jolt that he’s missing the index and middle fingers from his left hand. “What’s the worst one you’ve ever been to?”

“Um.” You don’t want to say this. You really don’t – but you drank too much, and you should be honest. “Mine.”

“You’re married?”

“Divorced,” you say. “Three months after the wedding. I didn’t have the ring on long enough to get a tan line.”

Shigaraki doesn’t say anything. The tower is getting unstable, so you’re careful as you wiggle out one of the side blocks on a row about halfway up. You keep an eye on Shigaraki’s shadow as you do it, bracing yourself for him to walk away. Would you walk away if he told you he was divorced? No, but you’re divorced, so it matters less to you. “Three months,” Shigaraki repeats. “How’d that happen?”

“You’re lucky you aren’t asking me that six years ago,” you say. “With how much I drank tonight, I’d have gone off.”

“Go off. I want to hear it.” Shigaraki actually looks interested. “Anyone who fucks this up deserves it.”

He’s gestures at you. You don’t know what to make of that, and you’ve got a block halfway out of the tower. You go back to work on it. “How do you know it wasn’t me?”

“I know,” Shigaraki says. “How’d it happen?”

“This is pathetic,” you warn. Shigaraki gestures for you to go on. You sigh. “We were together since high school. Midway through college I got a bad feeling that we were drifting apart and I couldn’t take the suspense, so I tried to end it. And he popped the question. We got married six months later and three months after that he knocked up my cousin.”

“Damn,” Shigaraki remarks.

“They’re still together,” you say. “The kid’s in primary school this year. And every year around the holidays my aunt and my cousin pick a fight with me about how I need to be nicer to him, because we’re all a family now.”

You finally manage to extract the block, and Shigaraki takes it from you before you can offer it to him. You can’t read his expression, and just like when you sensed things with your ex were falling apart, you can’t take the suspense. “Pathetic?” you prompt.

“Your ex is a loser.”

“You haven’t seen what my cousin looks like.”

“He’s still a loser,” Shigaraki says. He pulls out a block. “I get it, though.”

Your stomach clenches. “What do you mean?”

“If my girlfriend was leaving me because I was dicking around, I might do something like that, too.” Shigaraki sets his block on top of the tower. Your options for blocks to pull are getting slimmer by the turn. “Popping the question. Not knocking up your cousin.”

“I have other cousins,” you say. Shigaraki snorts. “I thought you said you weren’t getting married.”

“I said nobody was going to marry me,” Shigaraki corrects. What’s the difference? “Your turn.”

You’re out of blocks at shoulder height. And chest height. And waist height. You crouch down instead, doing your best to balance in your heels, and start trying to wiggle a block loose on the fourth level up from the ground. Shigaraki’s voice follows you down. “If you were ready to ditch him, why did you say yes?”

Now you’re at a real risk of crying. Six years of intermittent only-when-you’ve-got-the-money counseling hasn’t made a dent in this one thing. You remind yourself that Shigaraki can’t see your face and work on keeping your voice steady. “I was the one who asked him out in the first place, back in high school. I always had this weird sense that we wouldn’t be together if I hadn’t. So when he proposed I thought it meant he was choosing me, like I chose him. Which was a stupid reason to say yes.”

You wanted to believe. You wanted to believe so badly that you were worth it, and now you’re divorced at twenty-eight, barely talking to the half of your family that took your cousin’s side, going on a grand total of one real date in the entire time since then that you got up and left partway through because you couldn’t fake hope or excitement for one second longer. The kiss you planted on Shigaraki in the photo both was the most action you’ve gotten in two years, and you’ve put more effort into the fake wedding-date experience than you have into even looking for a hookup. You’re pathetic. This is pathetic. You should be embarrassed, and you are.

But you got your stupid block out. You straighten up and hold it out to Shigaraki, who stacks it for you. You can’t read his expression, and you’re a little too dysregulated to be anything but blunt. “That’s my tragic backstory. What’s your damage?”

“What, going to juvie doesn’t count?” Shigaraki crouches down to pull a block from the opposite side of the same row you just weakened. He’s doing it right-handed; he’s waving his left with its missing fingers at you. “This doesn’t count? The fact that I don’t have eyebrows doesn’t count? Your problem is being a dumb kid with a shitty family and a shitty ex. My problem is that I exist. We’re not the same.”

He straightens up and drops his block on top of the tower. You can see that he’s tenser than before, and you can’t think of anything to say that won’t sound patronizing. “I didn’t notice about the eyebrows until you said something.”

“Great.” Shigaraki won’t look at you. “Your turn.”

You crouch down again. The row below the row Shigaraki just knocked down to one block seems like the safest bet. You start pulling at it, frustrated at the way it sticks. “Careful,” Shigaraki says after a second. “If you don’t watch out –”

The tower topples. You’re crouched down, with no chance of getting out of the way in time, and all you can do is sit there, stunned, while three dozen giant Jenga blocks crash down around your head. The corner of one catches your temple, digs in, and you flinch. But the blocks are light. You’re startled, and humiliated, and possibly bleeding a little bit, but you’re fine. “Are you okay?” Shigaraki asks. You give a thumbs-up, and he crouches down next to you. “I don’t believe you. You look – shit, your face is bleeding.”

“I’m good,” you say. “It’s a good thing we took pictures already. This is not part of the wedding-date experience.”

“I’m done with that,” Shigaraki says, and your heart sinks. Even though it shouldn’t. Even though none of this mattered to begin with, even though you know better, you hoped. You weren’t hoping for anything much – just to keep having fun, just to not spend the rest of the wedding alone. “You have a purse, right? Do you have napkins in there or something?”

“Your suit comes with a pocket square.” You pluck it out of his pocket and press it to your temple. “I’ll pay for cleaning it.”

“Don’t bother. It was my dad’s. He doesn’t have much use for it in solitary.”

Shigaraki helps you up while you’re still processing that one and tugs you away from the wreckage of the Jenga tower, onto a bench. The view of the sunset is really good from here. Further down the lawn, you can see Himiko and Ochako and their photographer doing a last round of pictures, and you slide your feet out of your shoes. It’s that point in the wedding. You’ll probably stay here for the rest of the night.

“Do you need ice?” Shigaraki asks. You shake your head. It doesn’t hurt, or maybe the fact that the sinkhole in your chest is eating the tarp you put over it just hurts more. “Do you still want to dance?”

“You said you were done with the wedding date thing.”

“Yeah. I’m done with the part where it’s fake.”

Maybe you hit your head harder than you thought you did. “What do you mean?”

“Seriously?” Shigaraki sounds annoyed. “I let you put a flower crown on me.”

“Is that some kind of mating ritual in juvie?” The instant you say it, you feel bad, but Shigaraki laughs. “If you’re trying to say something, say it. I don’t do very well with ambiguity on my best night and I’m still kind of drunk.”

“Same here. Otherwise I’d sit on this, and my friends would spend the rest of their lives listening to me bitch about how I didn’t ask out the girl from Toga’s wedding.” Shigaraki’s hand lifts from his lap, rises to his neck, then falls back. “I want to dance with you. Toga and her wife are having an after-party at their place, and I want you to come to it with me. And I want your number so we can hang out again sometime when we’re not wasted. Because I like you.”

You must have hit your head really hard. “We met three hours ago.”

“So? Toga said she knew she was going to marry the wife the first time they made eye contact,” Shigaraki says. That sounds like something Himiko would say. You’ve met her a few times at work parties and she’s always struck you as a little intense and a little off-the-wall. “Do you want to dance or not? Make up your mind.”

You want to say yes. What comes out is something really stupid, so stupid that you can’t look at him while you say it. “This is the kind of thing that happens to other people.”

“What, meeting somebody who asks you out?”

It sounds stupid when he says it like that. You keep his dad’s pocket square pressed to your temple and try to explain. “The whole thing where you meet somebody when you weren’t expecting to meet anybody and things click, at least on your end, and since you know it’s just on your end you try not to get your hopes up – but the other person tells you that it clicked for them, too –”

“That’s dumb.” Shigaraki doesn’t sound like he’s being mean. You could almost call it affectionate. “Forget who it happens to. I’m asking you out. Do you –”

Screw it. If this is some kind of hallucination, you want to enjoy it. If it’s real, you don’t want to miss out. You turn back to face Shigaraki. “Yes.”

He grins, and you notice a scar over his mouth, too. “Good. Now what?”

You think about kissing him. You decide to try hugging first, which involves getting at least as close to him as you did when you were in the photo booth, on purpose this time. Shigaraki isn’t particularly tall or bulky, but when you hug him, you’re surprised to notice that he’s hiding some muscle underneath his suit jacket. Kind of a lot of muscle. Huh. Shigaraki notices that you’re investigating a little bit. “What?” he asks, his mouth against your ear. “Did you think all I do is game?”

“I don’t know what you do all day,” you say. “We didn’t get to that part yet.”

“We will.” Shigaraki draws back from you, and you loosen your grip even as his hand rises to cradle your jaw. This time you see the kiss coming from a mile away, and this time, you lean in.

Everything’s different this time, except the thing that startles the two of you apart – the bright flash of a camera going off. “Tomura-kun!” Himiko squeals from somewhere nearby. “I told you you’d have fun at my wedding. Who is that? She’s so cute!”

For a second you’re worried Shigaraki doesn’t know your name, but he must have been paying more attention than you thought he was when you introduced yourself, because he introduces you to Toga without missing a beat. “She’s one of my coworkers,” Ochako explains, smiling at you. Even through the smile you can see the incredulity on her face, and you know you’ll be getting a lot of questions about this when she gets back from her honeymoon. “I’m so sorry we had to put you at that table. I wanted to put you with everybody from work, but they all had plus-ones –”

“It’s fine,” you say faintly. Himiko’s photographer takes another picture, this time of all four of you talking. “It worked out.”

“She’s coming to your party,” Shigaraki informs Himiko. “I invited her.”

“Oh, good!” Himiko turns her attention to you. “It’s going to be so fun! We have games and movies and we’re going to stay up all night.”

“You should come inside now,” Ochako says. “There are mosquitos out here, and we’re supposed to have cake soon –”

“And we’re going to do the Time Warp. I put that on the playlist for you special, Tomura-kun,” Himiko says. She glances at you. “It’s the only dance he knows.”

Shigaraki flushes, grimaces, but you tilt your head against his shoulder again, lacing his fingers with yours for the third time tonight. You don’t know what he does all day when he’s not at weddings he doesn’t want to go to. You don’t know if what he said about his dad being in solitary confinement was a joke or not. You don’t know what happened to his hand or where he got his scars, or even where his eyebrows went. But you know he likes you. You know you like him enough to give things a shot, at least for tonight, and that’s better than you’ve felt in a long time.

And you know he can dance, even if it’s only the Time Warp. For right now, you don’t need to know any more than that.

can we stop doing this trope

I don't have addh but that's litteraly me xD

as a fellow gal with ADHD, please consider: shiggy/hyper & easily distracted gf

Oh man, I think it would drive him crazy. Shigaraki is so hyper focused and determined, and he’s obviously somewhat organized and skilled at bringing things together.

Those of us with ADHD (especially untreated) tend to be a bit scatterbrained and easily distracted. Could you imagine sitting through a long, grueling meeting with the league, and you just find yourself staring at the wall, daydreaming? You’re trying to listen, you really are, but every once in a while, he says something that sends your mind on a tangent and it becomes almost impossible to listen?

Anytime you have to read over recon or reports, you have to do it about 8 times because even though your eyes are scanning over the words, your head is totally somewhere else. It’s just not digesting the words. Sometimes you have to quiz yourself (or have him do it for you) to make sure you absorbed the information.

And sleeping next to him? Oh man.

“Hey!”

“What?”

“You’re twitching your leg again.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it.”

“Well stop! You’re shaking the whole bed!”

“I’m trying! I start doing it subconsciously.”

“Well knock it off. I’m trying to focus.”

“Okay.”

...........

...........

“You’re doing it again!”

He’d have to check in on you and make sure you’re not getting sidetracked while you work. He even has to pay extra attention to where you put things because you have a tendency to lose track of stuff.

“Did you see where I put my phone?”

“I saw you with it two minutes ago.”

“I know. I can’t remember where I put it.”

“Did you check your pocket?”

“Yes, Tomura, I’m not stupid.”

“What about the counter?”

“Already looked.”

“And what about the bathroom where you went right before you lost it?”

“....huh.”

“Idiot.”

Even when he’s looking right at you, he’s not entirely sure you’re listening. Sometimes he asks you to repeat what it is he just said just so he can be sure. Your impulsive nature doesn’t necessarily help matters. He thinks if you spent half as much time working as you did daydreaming, you might have destroyed society on your own by now.

“What the hell are you looking at?”

“Huh?”

“You’ve been staring at the counter for 10 minutes. You’re barely blinking.”

“Oh. I was just wondering what it would be like to have a quirk like Hawks. You know, like flying and stuff? Do you think he ever gets bugs in his teeth? And what about going down, do you think his stomach does the flippy thing or do you get used to it? Also, do you think he needs to like, brush his wings? You know when you get a few hairs parted on the wrong side and it feels weird? You think you get that with feathers? And since he’s birdlike, you think he lays eggs or-“

“You know what? I’m sorry I asked.”

Yeah, it would drive Shigaraki crazy sometimes. But even though he’ll never tell you this, he thinks it’s cute, and he doesn’t mind it nearly as much as he pretends he does. Plus, he’s more than happy to help keep you organized and remember things you might have forgotten. It’s a minuscule price to pay to be with you, and something he’d probably do anyway.