Goofy Xmas Stuff That Took WAYYY Longer Than It Had Any Right To. Anyway Don’t Look Too Long At This

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:

As a small/medium boobs girlie this hurt xD

Kingly snuggles.

Dont repost

star stickers and best efforts.

「 tws + notes: no tws, unedited, hurt/comfort but 100% not at all, reader is mildly mean when nervous LIKE A BAD DOG /ref and most definitely written self-indulgently by accident, sun is mildly condescending, they r each others best supporters, mentions of a customer being rude but rly nothing crazy, sun uh... he's an interesting fella, BIGGG dialogue chunks im sorry im sorry 」

「 gn!reader, can be platonic or romantic <3 」

↳ ft. the daycare attendant/sun/sundrop

author's note: my wip title was literally just "the one where you're yelled at" :p but... hiiii!!! obligatory return to fnaf real quick becuz,,, no, i still havent gotten into the ruin dlc but YES i do love sun's personality in help wanted 2..... if this is ooc u can erm. shove me into wet concrete. (。﹏。) aaannywayz!! missed this!!! missed this so much!!!! ( ╯□╰ ) sorry for not valentine's day posting,,, scandalous ik since im lit rally Called Valentine. but oh well. enjoy! or dont. if you dont im sorry please request fnaf stuff so i can Fix That /srs

if you weren't relying on this job to put food on your table and a roof on your head, you’d burn the freddy fazbear’s mega pizzaplex to the ground for a piece of pocket lint and a pat on the head.

maybe it’s a bit dramatic to say that— you're paid well, you like your mostly robot coworkers, and most of the time (emphasis on most and not always) the work is manageable enough.

the customers are another story.

sun notices the minute you walk in the daycare. you look like you're a minor inconvenience away from murder— which naturally, makes him feel inclined to prod a little.

“well, someone’s awfully sulky today!”

while you’d typically crack a smile at the upbeat jester animatronic, his enthusiasm in the face of your misery is grating. there’s no energy left in your body to banter with him— you were using most of it to drag your feet over to the shoe caddy, toolbox in hand to fix up its shelf, now hanging askew due to a busted bracket.

“can it, sunny, i don't wanna hear it.” you mutter, more venomous than you intend it to be. he doesn’t even blink at your grumpiness. instead, he happily holds up the shelf while you inspect it and grab a new bracket to secure it.

at least he’s trying to make himself useful. you think to yourself.

his faceplate tilts slightly, staring at you with that ever present grin. his staring isn’t really helping, but you don’t fault him for it. you’ve gotten used to his antics by now. “woke up on the wrong side of the bed?” sun questions.

you shake your head.

“got yelled at by a customer— now, if you could please just drop the topic—” you sigh exasperatedly, not even bothering to finish the sentence as you sit down cross legged in front of the shoe caddy, slumping slightly in defeat.

much too persistent for his own good, sun decides that inquiring even further about the incident that seems to have you beat down is a good idea. “what’d you do?”

you consider feigning offense as he insinuates it’s somehow your fault. but you don’t. you just shrug it off.

“my job.” 

“ah, they do hate it when you do that.” he tuts.

“it wasn’t even that big of a deal,” you mutter, getting the bracket in place and marking it, “this one kid just so happened to walk up to the arcade machine i was putting an out of order sign on. i felt bad, so like, obviously, i hand the kid a few tokens, apologize politely, explain— and you’d think it’s all good right?”

you pause mid-ramble as you fix up the shelf. in all your misery, you forgot that you don’t even know exactly what caused the shelf to collapse like this. you consider asking.

sun leans in just a bit too close, interrupting your train of thought as you stare at the shelf. when you glance at him, he gives you a little nod.

go on, he seems to say wordlessly. he’s waiting silently for you to continue your story. it’s never not unnerving when he’s quiet.

“...anyways, uh... the kid’s dad came by and got mad or something. didn’t understand why i couldn’t just let him play one game since it looked perfectly functional— keep in mind, this is the arcade machine that literally kept eating up tokens only to not function, and shocked kids when it did— so i kept trying to explain why i couldn’t exactly do that. but for some reason, it was such a big fucking deal—”

“language.” he chides.

“...fricking deal. of course, i had to be berated for it. i offered to grab them more faz-tokens as compensation and i thought the problem was solved... and then i checked and saw he still left a bad review. definitely gonna hear about that from management.” sun hands you a tool as you continue to speak.

“but now i’m upset, i’m definitely in trouble, and my face hurts from the whole customer service smile i was holding that entire conversation. like seriously, i don’t know how i’m expected to do that 24/7.” you stop at your last remark and stare at sun and his unchanging expression. “...my bad.”

the awkward silence only lasts for a moment, thankfully. you’ve spoken your piece— sun decides to speak his.

“you did your best.” he says simply, as you finally fix the shelf into place. he pats you on the head and doesn't even hide his amusement when you sulk.

“i know that tone, sunny, you're making fun of me—”

“poor thing.” he continues, grinning brightly as he makes a show of patronizing you. sun’s hand continues to pat the top of your head gently, like he would when consoling a child. or when greeting a dog. has he,,, ever seen a dog before? probably not.

you groan and manage to shove his arm away.

“i do mean it though,” he continues, his tone still lighthearted— but notably more earnest as he notes your expression. sun helps you put your tools away neatly back into the toolbox, even though it really is just a one-man job.

“you tried your best,” sun closes the toolbox with a flourish and a click, “...and for that—!”

with a dramatic flick of his wrist, bells jingling as he does, sun produces a gold star sticker from… somewhere. he holds it up for you to see.

and then gently presses it onto the tip of your nose.

“to my favoritest human employee here! and my bestest of friends!” it’s hard to bite back a smile at those words. even if his little show of empathy and affection is much too theatrical for your current mood.

“whatever.” you shrug a little, unable to stop the corners of your mouth from twitching into a little grin. standing up and grabbing the toolbox, you give him an awkward thumbs up.

“thanks. and uh… sorry. for being mean. i guess.”

sun shakes his head dismissively, bouncy and bright as ever. “oh, don't mention it!”

something about his seeming lack of offense towards your prickliness makes you feel even more guilty. still, he gives you a wave as you head out, “bye-bye”-ing happily as you walk away, sticker stuck to your nose and smile on your face like an idiot.

you decide you’ll find a way to make it up to him later. you figure he deserves that much for putting up with everything.

meanwhile, sun is taking mental notes on more stuff to break of whenever you’ve been away for too long. just in case, of course. maybe you’d have more interesting customer encounters to rant about. and hey, you could use the company, couldn’t you?

— reblogs always appreciated!

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

BNHA ! IMAGINE

Shigaraki Tomura x darling

WC: 1.5k

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

You kissed him a little while back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She difficult?” Shigaraki followed up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He stood and stared at you for a moment. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you hadn’t the same issue.

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

You? Scared him?

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

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

tip-jar: Kofi

💗

Love Like Ghosts (Chapter 17) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

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

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16

Chapter 17

There’s something wrong with your house, but you knew that when you bought it. Right now, the thing that’s wrong with it is the fact that every last light in the place is on when Hizashi guides his sports car to a stop in front of it. He rolls down the window and raises his voice in a holler that wakes you out of your doze and probably wakes the rest of the street up, too. “Special delivery, o petulant one! One human, safe and sound.”

Tomura opens the door and steps through it, which is unusual. Usually he materializes straight through the door, but this time, he’s solid enough to leave footprints all the way down the steps and along the path to the gate. You unfold yourself out of Hizashi’s car, wincing at the stiffness in your legs. Hizashi’s car is cool, but it’s sure as hell not comfortable.

Once you’ve retrieved your suitcase from the backseat, you turn to face Hizashi. “Thanks for the ride back,” you say. “And the sketches from the photos. I couldn’t have done those.”

“That wasn’t the worst research trip I’ve ever been on,” Hizashi says. You figure that’s as close to “you’re welcome” as you’re going to get.

He pulls a u-turn and zooms off down the block, and you turn to face your own house. The gate’s already open, and once you step through it, Tomura seizes you, suitcase and all. Your feet leave the ground, and Tomura sets off up the path, awkwardly carrying you. “Hey,” you complain. His shoulder’s wedged underneath your sternum in a way that’s deeply uncomfortable, and one of his hands is glued to your ass. “Put me down.”

Tomura doesn’t answer, and you consider thrashing until he puts you down. But he’s so stubborn that he probably wouldn’t let go, and the only thing worse than being carried through the yard like a sack of potatoes would be taking yourself and Tomura down for everybody to see in an attempt to escape. You decide to stick it out. You can thrash once you’re inside.

As it turns out, you don’t get a chance to thrash. Tomura drops you on the floor the instant the door shuts and climbs on top of you, and Phantom leaps over your dropped suitcase to join the party. All the air whooshes out of your lungs and it takes you a second to recover. “So you weren’t joking when you said you missed me.”

“Shut up,” Tomura mumbles. His ice-cold hands slip beneath your shirt, splaying across your ribcage, grasping at your shoulder. “You said you’d be back last night. It’s morning.”

“Two in the morning. That’s still nighttime,” you protest. Tomura makes a discontented sound. With your shirt hiked up, your stomach’s exposed, and you startle when Phantom pokes you with her nose. “Hey! I’m already cold enough.”

“She missed you.” Tomura shifts his weight slightly, allowing you to free one of your hands so you can scratch Phantom’s ears. “I missed you more.”

Phantom would probably dispute that if she could talk. You wrestle your hand out from being crushed between your chest and Tomura’s and swat his shoulder lightly with it. “I can’t believe you put a heart in your contact on my phone.”

“You said I could have an emotion thing.”

“An emoji. And I said you could have the ghost one. Not a heart,” you say. “A ghost is what you are. A heart – says things. It wouldn’t make sense to you.”

“It’s not that complicated,” Tomura says. There’s an odd note in his voice. “I’m not stupid. I know how human things work. I know what it means that you don’t want people to know about me.”

For a moment you’re reminded of Hizashi, of Hizashi’s insistence that he understands humans enough to know why people do what they do. “It’s just hard to explain. That you’re a –”

“I can pass as human if I need to. I even blink the right way. The others don’t.”

“But –” You break off, clamp your mouth shut. Not tonight. You don’t want to have this argument tonight. Not when you’ve missed him. Not when you just got home. “I told my parents you’re my boyfriend. They want to meet you. When they come here we’ll figure something out. Okay?”

“You’re embarrassed about me,” Tomura says. “That’s what –”

“Stop listening to Dabi about me,” you say. You talk over Tomura’s question about how you knew what he was going to say. “It’s always Dabi trying to make you feel bad about yourself. Has anybody else ever said things like that to you? Anybody who’s not a dick?”

Tomura makes an irritated sound in response, which means you’re right about this. “Hey,” you say. You lift one hand from where it’s resting between his shoulder blades and start to comb your fingers through the ends of his hair. “I missed you the whole time I was gone. You staying on the phone with me all night was maybe the nicest thing anybody ever did for me. If I’m weird about you meeting my parents, it says more about them than it does about you.”

“Mmh.” Tomura still sounds unhappy, but he settles into your arms, and you feel him relax muscle by muscle. “Would you still be weird if I was human?”

“Weirder,” you say, and he snorts. “Can we get off the floor now?”

“The floor’s fine.”

“Says the person not laying on it.” You shift around until Tomura pulls his hands out from under your shirt and moves. “I’m going to the couch.”

“I was comfortable,” Tomura complains.

“If you let me get to the couch in the first place, you wouldn’t have had to move.”

You have a feeling Tomura had something in mind for when you got home tonight, but the two of you kiss for approximately ten seconds before Phantom jumps on the couch with you, and you know Tomura would never push her away. She makes herself comfortable in between your feet and Tomura’s and starts to snore. Ordinarily it’s a mood killer, but ordinarily you haven’t been gone for a day and a half. Tomura waits a few seconds to see if she’ll wake up, then leans in to kiss you again.

In general, Tomura has one type of kissing in his repertoire – hot and heavy making out, more enthusiasm than technique. The technique’s there, sure, but it takes a backseat to trying to enthusiastically suck your soul out through your mouth. Except for right now. Right now his kisses are softer, almost gentle. And slow. One of his hands grips your jaw to turn your head for better access, but then it shifts to cradling it, cold fingers pressed against your cheek and your throat as he kisses you. You’re not really sure what to make of it. But you like it.

It gives you more time for things. You have time this way, time to slide your hands beneath his shirt, tracing over the outlines of his vertebrae, a little more prominent than they should be. If he was human, he’d be almost skeletally thin, but you’d touch him like this more if you could get away with it. Maybe he’ll let you sometime. Tomura makes a contented hum against your mouth and sinks deeper into the kiss.

But it’s weird. Usually when he kisses you he’s wound up within seconds. You draw back, or try to. He won’t let you, so you pull one hand from under his shirt, plant it on his cheek, and shove him back just enough to give yourself space to talk. “What is this about? You’re not usually like this.”

“I never get to do it as long as I want. My body starts acting stupid, and then I burn through too much life-force and I have to go.” Tomura is holding perfectly still, even though he’s sprawled out on top of you in a way that’s probably hard to balance. “I thought maybe if I went slower I could stay longer.”

He peels your hand away from his face and leans in again. You still have one hand on his back. With the other one free, you can run your fingers through his hair, and you’re surprised to find that it’s not tangled. This time you speak around the kiss. “Did you brush your hair?”

“No.”

Huh. You go back to kissing him, unconcerned, until a thought crosses your mind and you sit partway up in surprise. Tomura starts bitching immediately at being jarred out of position, but you ignore him. “Did you dematerialize at all while I was gone?”

“No.” Tomura sits up, too, but only for the purposes of pushing you back down. “Come back. I’m not done.”

You’d really like to keep kissing him and not thinking about anything at all, but now your mind is spinning and you can’t make it stop. “Why would you do that? That was thirty-six hours. Why would you burn that much energy?”

“Why does it matter? I still have enough.” Tomura’s being dumb on purpose. You know he is, and you don’t think it’s just because he wants to go back to kissing. “Humans are like this all the time.”

No. Not right now. You can’t have this fight right now, but – “But you aren’t!”

“Aren’t what?”

“Human,” you say. “Why –”

You break off. Tomura’s red eyes are fixed on yours. “Say it.”

You’ve wondered on and off if he knows this fight is coming. Now you know for sure. “No,” you say. “Not tonight.”

“Why not?”

“I just got home. It’s late and I missed you and you missed me.” You pull at Tomura’s shoulders. “I want to kiss you. I don’t want to do this. Not tonight. Please.”

If he asks you any more questions, you might lose it. If he asks you what you’re so scared of, it might all come spilling out at once. But Tomura doesn’t ask. He doesn’t ask when the two of you are going to talk about it, either. He just thinks about it for a few seconds before leaning in to kiss you again.

It feels like kissing and making up, when the two of you haven’t even had a fight yet. The real fight is coming. Tomorrow, or maybe the next day, or the day after that. One of these days you’re going to snap and tell Tomura to stop talking about wanting to be human when he threw away his chance at the real thing, and he’ll probably ask you why you give a damn, and then you’ll have a choice to make. Lie and say you don’t care either way. Or tell him what you can barely admit to yourself: You love him, and you want a life with him. It’s easy to imagine Tomura protesting that the two of you have a life already and having to correct him. A human life. Together.

You can’t say that. He might talk about being human, but you know better than to think that’s what he really wants. What you have with him right now is what you’re going to get, and it’s good. It’s enough. You sink your hands into his hair and kiss him until your eyelids start to feel heavy, and you don’t stop there. The last thing you’re aware of before you fall asleep is the icy pressure of Tomura’s body against yours, and the sensation of his ribcage expanding and contracting beneath your hands as his lungs fill with breaths he’ll never truly need.

You’re a wreck in the morning, partially from sleeping on the couch all night and partially from a nightmare you had while you were there. You didn’t wake up from it, and Tomura didn’t notice anything – when you ask him in the morning if you’d done anything weird in the night, he shakes his head and flops back down on you, unwilling to let you move even though he’s been there for hours. You don’t tell him you had a bad dream, and you definitely don’t tell him what it was about.

You were in your neighborhood, or where your neighborhood used to be. The houses were ruins of what they’d been before, and you were alone in the middle of the street. There were scraps of something floating by in the wind, something that looked like the shreds of a ribbon made of clouds and ash, and you were chasing them, grabbing as many as you could. No matter how many you grabbed hold of, there were always more, and as you raced frantically down the street, the wind kicked up, carrying them further and further away. Scattering them, until there was no hope you’d ever find them all.

In the dream you felt sick. You wanted to scream and cry, but mostly, you wanted to find Tomura. You called out for him over and over again with no answer, and you remember the exact moment in the dream when it dawned on you. When you looked down at the meager wisps of cloud and ash in your hands and realized that you’d found all that was left of him already.

You try to be normal about it. It was just a dream. But you’re creeped out after your conversation with Hizashi yesterday, and instead of being calm and collected, you wind up clingy. You’re worried Tomura will be annoyed, but Tomura’s pretty enthused about it, at least until you start shivering and your stomach growls. He dematerializes out of your grip. “Go eat or something. I’m not going anywhere.”

Your phone rings while you’re waiting for your electric teakettle to finish heating up and staring at a banana, trying to summon up any desire to eat it. You answer. It’s Keigo. “Yo, humans-only strategy breakfast today. Are you in or are you in?”

“You have to be in,” Spinner says from somewhere in the background. “You owe me.”

You do owe Spinner. A lot. “Okay. I can come over –”

“We’ll drive. Be ready to go in five minutes.”

You hang up the phone, feeling a little whiplash. Tomura’s hovering close enough over your shoulder to have listened in. He’s frowning. “You’re leaving again?”

“I owe them,” you say. Tomura flops against your back, chin notched over your shoulder, clearly pouting. “I’m sorry. I want to stay.”

“Then stay.”

“I won’t be gone long.” You twist in his arms to face him and hug him, burying your face in his shoulder. The dream comes back to you, the memory of those scraps of essence fluttering in your hands, and you hug him tighter. The words slip out before you can stop them. “I love you.”

Tomura freezes in your arms. “What?”

You should stay put. You should explain yourself. You can’t just drop something like that and expect him to let it go. In his spot, you wouldn’t. But instead of explaining, you yank yourself out of his grip and bolt for the front door. “Hey!” Tomura snaps, chasing after you. He’s not dematerializing. That gives you the edge. “Get back here. You can’t just –”

You open the front door, book it down the steps, and step through the gate just in time for Keigo’s car to reverse out of his driveway, hang a turn, and come to a stop in front of your house. “Get in.”

Jin is in the front seat with Keigo. You and Spinner are in the back, and you think that will be everyone – but then Keigo hits the brakes outside of Aizawa’s house, and Aizawa comes shambling down the front steps, looking like hell. Keigo snorts. “Looks like somebody had a busy night.”

Jin snickers, then twists around to look at you. “Did you sleep? You look like you slept a little bit. Damn, I had a bet that Tomura was going to keep you up all night.”

The idea of the neighborhood discussing your sex life, let alone betting on it, is absolutely horrendous, even if the former ghosts are kept apprised of everything that happens courtesy of Tomura’s unwillingness to keep a lid on his feelings. Jin waits for a comment from you, doesn’t get one, and turns to Spinner. “You hung out with him the other day. Did he say anything to you?”

“About what?” Spinner looks like he feels the same about this conversation as you do, which is reassuring. “We were just playing Pokémon. He was kind of mopey, but that was it.”

That reminds you – you need to thank Spinner. “How much do I owe you for what you gave him?”

“I didn’t buy new stuff. I just gave him old stuff I don’t really use,” Spinner says. “He’s not bad to play with. Better than Jin.”

“Don’t be mean,” Jin protests. “I suck!”

Aizawa knocks on the passenger-side window and scares all four of you. Jin rolls it down to stare at Aizawa and Aizawa stares back. “Out.”

The five of you set off for breakfast, Aizawa riding shotgun while you’re sandwiched between Jin and Spinner in the back of the car. The tight conditions don’t do much to improve your mood. “Is this really necessary?”

“Yes,” Aizawa says. “It seems the responsibility for dealing with Tomura’s conjurer will fall to us.”

You don’t know where he got that idea. From Hizashi? Hizashi’s conjurer is dead, so it shouldn’t matter to him if Tomura takes himself out killing Shigaraki. Everybody else in the car seems to be on board with it, though, and it’s not like you can get out of the car. You’re trapped. Worst of all, your phone is buzzing, and you have a bad feeling you know who’s sending the messages. You would, if you were in Tomura’s spot. If he’d told you he loved you and promptly ran for it, you’d start blowing up his phone with no guilt whatsoever.

You decide that for the sake of your sanity, you’re not going to look at your phone. You’ll deal with this when you get home and not before.

The restaurant the others are dragging you to is one you recognize. When you and your college friends needed hangover food after a long night, you came here. Keigo must have had a similar experience, because he orders for all five of you without looking at the menu, and once there’s coffee in front of everybody, he looks at you. “So. What did you find out?”

“I didn’t find anything worth dragging me out of my house this early,” you say. “Ask him.”

You point at Aizawa, who’s too busy chugging coffee to answer. He finishes his cup, takes Keigo’s, and drinks half of it before speaking up. “There’s a strong chance that Tomura’s conjurer has very few remaining ghosts. If that’s the case, all Tomura needs to do in order to cut his conjurer’s access to the world between is to remain materialized.”

To remain materialized. Like he’s apparently been doing for most of the last forty-eight hours. “If he does so,” Aizawa continues after the rest of Keigo’s coffee, “he’d leave his conjurer with close to the same degree of power as a human man possesses. Which would leave him vulnerable to us.”

“So that’s what this is about,” Keigo says. He steals Jin’s coffee, and you drag your cup closer in case Jin’s getting any ideas. “If we want the conjurer dead –”

“And we don’t want Tomura to get sucked back into the world between –” Spinner breaks in.

“We have to do it ourselves.” Keigo completes the sentence. “Our thoughts are safe. They can’t read our intentions. When he gets here, we’ll kill him.”

“Great,” you say. “That still doesn’t explain why I’m here.”

“We need to tell you because we need Tomura to buy in,” Spinner says. “If he decides to get into it with his conjurer as a ghost, we can’t help. And, uh –”

“The plan from before is still a good plan,” Jin says eagerly. You look at him, your mind utterly blank. “I mean, it sucks. But it’s better than nothing.”

“The plan from before,” you repeat. And then it clicks – the plan for dealing with Garaki, and the reason why you and not somebody else need to be the one who convinces Tomura. “Except this time I’m the bait.”

“Right,” Keigo says. “He’s not going to come out of hiding unless he’s got a good reason. We need to offer him something big. His wayward ghost’s human? It doesn’t get any bigger than that.”

If the conjurer’s hesitating to take on Tomura, you have a hard time believing that he’ll risk coming after you. But you don’t need him to attack you. You just need him to show himself. Still – “If Tomura doesn’t think you can protect me, he’ll never go for this plan. All of us fought Garaki. We couldn’t touch him.”

“Funny you should say that, because I remember you sneaking up out of nowhere and hitting him with a stick.”

You can’t keep the sarcasm out of your voice. “And look how much good that did.”

“A lot of good, given that he released Dabi when you struck him,” Aizawa says, and you shut up. “Garaki was connected to a thousand ghosts. It’s likely that Tomura’s conjurer is working with far fewer.”

“One.” You speak before the thought’s fully formed, but then you realize what you’re actually saying and keep talking. “He told me that when Mr. Yagi and his conjurer fought, he felt the other ghosts connected to his conjurer being destroyed. So unless that conjurer’s made a bunch of new haunts –”

“He hasn’t,” Aizawa says.

“Then it could work,” Keigo says. “Let’s come up with a plan.”

Thankfully, breakfast arrives before the planning starts in earnest, so the server doesn’t have to interrupt a conversation about how to get away with murder. The how-to-get-away-with-murder conversation includes you only tangentially. Your main role is to be here, memorize the plan, and present it to Tomura as totally simple, easy, and low-risk. You pick at your breakfast, horrified to find that you wish you were more involved in the planning. As terrible as it is, it would be better than thinking about what’s going to happen when you get home.

Eventually the group settles on a course of action. You’ll take off your bracelets to expose yourself and give them to Hizashi instead, hoping they’ll hide his powers long enough for the conjurer to close in on you. Once he does, Hizashi will restrain him, someone will contact Tomura and order him to materialize, and everyone else will kill the conjurer once he loses access to the world between. You’re pretty sure Tomura will have issues with multiple parts of the plan, and you say so, but as Spinner points out, Tomura won’t be able to stop the plan once it’s in motion without endangering you. You’re inclined to point out that all Tomura has to do to stop the plan from ever getting going in the first place is to stop you from leaving the house, but you’re pretty sure he won’t do that. In fact, if he’s mad enough at you about this morning, there’s a good chance he won’t let you back in.

You’re hoping to get home immediately after breakfast, but everyone else decides that they might as well run errands while they’re out and about. You get dragged to the dry cleaners, the grocery store, the game store, and the makeup counter at the nearest department store before Aizawa puts his foot down. On the way back to the neighborhood, everybody quizzes you about the plan, making sure you’ve got all the details. You’ve got them. You’ve also got a pit of dread yawning open in your stomach, and it gets worse the instant Keigo makes the turn onto your street.

You wonder if the other ghosts have felt anything emanating from your house, or if Tomura’s kept a lid on his feelings for once. Now that you think about it, you’ve got no idea what Tomura might be feeling right now. Keigo comes to a stop in front of your house and you square your shoulders. You’re about to find out.

The front door swings open as you climb the stairs, then shuts and locks behind you. Phantom runs to greet you, just like always, and you sit down to cuddle with her. There’s no sign of Tomura. With Phantom cuddled in your lap and licking your chin, you fish your phone out of your pocket and check your messages.

Tomura ❤️: did you mean it

Tomura ❤️: you can’t just say that and run away

Tomura ❤️: if you didn’t mean it don’t come back

Tomura ❤️: i don’t need you

Tomura ❤️: i don’t need any of this

You set your phone down and push it away. Then you look up and out at the empty space in front of you. “I meant it. I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

Tomura’s voice echoes out of everywhere and nowhere. “Then why did you leave?”

“I wasn’t planning to say it right then. Or like that,” you say. “It sort of just – came out. Sorry.”

“How long?”

“Huh?”

“How long?” Tomura demands. He materializes partially in front of you, and Phantom scrambles out of your lap and runs to him. Based on the way she’s acting, you can tell he’s been hiding from her all day, and he feels guilty enough about it to materialize the rest of the way. He’s petting her, fussing with her ears, and when he speaks again, his voice is quieter but just as intense as before. “How long have you loved me?”

It crosses your mind that you could lie. Moreover, that you should lie. That you should say it’s something recent – the last few weeks, or maybe the last month at the very most. So recent that it barely means anything at all. But you’ve been in love with Tomura a lot longer than you’ve wanted to admit to, and you owe him the truth. “A while.”

You don’t have to specify much further than that. Tomura gets it. “Fuck,” he snarls, and Phantom startles, shies away. “Sorry. Sorry. No, don’t –”

“She just needs a second. Let her go.” You watch as Tomura loosens his grip. Phantom scrambles away, runs in a little circle, shakes so hard her ears flap, and comes cautiously back within reach. “I don’t understand. Why does it matter how long I’ve felt that way?”

“A month ago. That was my chance! If I’d known then – if you’d told me instead of – I would have –”

Tomura breaks off, and your chest tightens. “You wouldn’t have,” you say, but there’s a note of uncertainty in your voice. You don’t know that. You’ve fallen into the trap of thinking you know what’s going on in Tomura’s head before. “That’s not how it works. You have to want it –”

“More than anything else? Yeah.” Tomura’s jaw is clenched. He’s scratching hard at the side of his neck. “Except I didn’t want to change and find out you didn’t want me more.”

This is the fight you’ve been dreading. It’s almost a relief to get it out in the open at last. “Don’t pin this on me,” you say. “You weren’t sure before, but you’re sure now because I said three words?”

“They’re important!” Tomura snaps. “Everybody knows that. If I’d known you were sure about me –”

“That’s not what ‘I love you’ means,” you say. Tomura glares at you. “It means I’m serious about you. It means I don’t want anybody else. It means I see you in my future, and I like the fact that you’re there. But it’s not a sure thing. There’s no such thing as a sure thing.”

You shut your eyes for a moment, pressing the heels of your hands against them. “If you were waiting on me to say something so you could decide about being human, it must not have been what you really wanted.”

“You don’t know anything! The others were sure when they changed!”

“I don’t think they were,” you say slowly. “Aizawa was unconscious when Hizashi embodied himself. Spinner was barely conscious when Magne did it. Neither of them could have gotten an answer from their human. Himiko and Eri didn’t ask Jin and Shinsou if they could be their little sisters before they did it.”

“So?” Tomura’s voice is sharp and bitter.

“They didn’t have a sure thing,” you say. “They changed anyway. If being human was what you really wanted, it wouldn’t have mattered whether I loved you or not.”

“You don’t know anything,” Tomura says flatly. “It doesn’t matter now. This is how you’re stuck with me.”

“I’m not stuck,” you say. Tomura scoffs. “I’m not, Tomura. This didn’t happen because I’ve been hoping you’ll embody yourself permanently the whole time.”

“Then why?”

Why does anybody fall in love with anybody else? “I’ll answer that when you tell me why you let me stay here instead of scaring me off like everybody else.”

It’s quiet in your house. Phantom loses patience with the two of you and trots off into the living room, leaving you and Tomura to stare at each other from opposite ends of the front hall. You’re not going to try to answer his question, and he looks like he’s got no plans to answer yours, and contests to see which of you is more stubborn usually end with neither of you getting what you want. You edge a few inches backwards and lean against the door, posture open and legs loosely crossed. You know what this pose looks like to Tomura. It’s all the ground you’re willing to give, which means the ball is firmly in his court. All you can do is wait.

Tomura dematerializes, and your heart sinks – but then a rush of cold sweeps over you, and he settles into your lap like he always does. “You’re stuck with me like this.”

“I’m not stuck,” you say, rolling your eyes. “I haven’t been waiting for you to embody yourself. I guess neither of us know if we want that.”

Tomura rolls his eyes in response, you feel him relax slightly. “There are some things I know I do want,” you say. “I want to stay here with you. I want to call you whatever I have to call you so people stop questioning what you are to me. I want to introduce you to my parents –”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

“You don’t. You think I’ll act weird –”

“I’m counting on it,” you say, and Tomura gives you a surprised look. “If we’re weird enough to them, it’ll be a long time before they come back.”

Tomura laughs at that. You hear him laugh infrequently enough that it still makes you feel like you’ve won something. “I like it best when it’s just us,” you say. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer, and he lets you do it. He’s fully relaxed now, which makes you feel sort of bad for what you’re about to say. “And I know I want us to have sex. Today. What do you think?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Tomura says, because he’s an asshole. He twists in your arms and presses his lips against yours – lightly enough that he can talk, and so can you. “I’ve only been waiting for a week.”

His voice goes rough and raspy in a way that makes your skin crawl with anticipation, but it’s not like you haven’t been waiting, too. “We could have done it earlier, but you were too busy being mad that I had to leave.”

Tomura protests, but you kiss him again, and he stops talking in a hurry. You’ve spent a lot of time making out with Tomura by now, and you know what he likes. You know how to wind him up at lightspeed, which has the effect of winding you up at lightspeed, which is great when the two of you don’t have a lot of time on your hands. It’s not so great when you’re trying to have sex. But you’ve been thinking for a while about how to make this work. Step one involves making Tomura come.

Tomura catches on quickly, but not quickly enough. He’s already grinding against you, his cock already hard and straining the confines of his pants, his breathing harsh and unsteady in your ear when you bow your head to kiss his neck. “What are you –” he breaks off, struggling to form words. “Hey. If you – if you don’t stop –”

“Do you want me to stop?” you ask. “I will.”

“No,” Tomura says through gritted teeth. You slide one hand between the two of you, tracing the outline of his cock through his pants. “Hey! I thought we were supposed to –”

“Have sex?” You keep touching him, your stomach twisting with desire at the needy, desperate sound he makes. “We’re going to. I need you to come for me first.”

“Why?”

“Do you want me to stop?” you ask again. You draw back from kissing Tomura’s neck to look him in the eye and your stomach twists again, harder this time. He looks so pretty, his face flushed and his dilated eyes shrouded by too-long eyelashes, and he’s shaking his head. No, he doesn’t want you to stop. Good. “Then you’ll see soon.”

You kiss him. He’s squirming in your lap, hips rocking unevenly as he chases the scant friction provided by your hand, and your mind goes temporarily blank as you imagine your positions reversed, your legs hooked over his hips as he thrusts inside you. The thought distracts you to such a degree that Tomura notices – and because Tomura’s an asshole, he points it out. “Are you getting off on this?”

“What else am I supposed to do?” you respond. “You’re just too pretty.”

Tomura startles, and you say it again. Better yet, you elaborate on how hot it is that he wants you this much, how much you like his desperate squirming in your lap as he seeks release. It doesn’t take much. A few sentences, and a strangled sound escapes from Tomura’s mouth as he shudders, throws his head back. A damp patch blooms through the fabric of his pants. You yank him closer, pressing your mouth against his throat. “Stay here, Tomura. Stay with me.”

He mumbles your name, and you kiss him again. When he speaks up, he sounds a little more like himself. “Now what?”

“Now we go upstairs,” you say. “This next part will be better with the bed.”

Tomura’s a little shaky as he gets to his feet, and you hold his hand on the way up the stairs. He’s holding onto his physical form pretty well. You shoo him over to your bed, shut your bedroom door, and head into the bathroom to retrieve your still-unopened box of condoms. Tomura leans back on his hands and watches you through half-lidded eyes. “We need those?”

“Yes, we do,” you confirm. You set them down on the bedside table and start taking off your clothes, starting with your jeans.

You’ve been naked in front of Tomura before. Fully naked when you didn’t know he was there, partially when you did, but getting purposely, completely nude in front of him is something new. You lose your underwear next, and take your bra off without removing your shirt. When you glance over at Tomura to see how he’s taking this, you find that he’s taken off his shirt and is in the process of peeling off his pants. He glances down at himself, grimaces. “Why did I have to do this first?”

“So you’ll be less sensitive for this,” you say. You decide to leave your shirt on for now. “I want to make sure you last.”

“I can last as long as I need to.”

You remember the time the two of you tried edging – tried being the operative word – and wince. “Then it was just to make sure. Are you really going to complain about getting to go two rounds instead of one?”

This really isn’t a good time for Tomura to hit you with that dumbest-person-ever look, but he’s doing it anyway. “It’s not fair,” he says. If there’s something you’re supposed to understand about that sentiment, you don’t have a clue what it is. “What if you can’t last?”

You laugh before you can stop yourself. “Most women don’t come from just this kind of sex by itself. Me lasting isn’t going to be a problem.”

“That’s stupid. Why are we doing it if you’re not going to like it?”

“I’ll like it,” you say. Your face heats up just thinking about it, but Tomura doesn’t look convinced. “It’s complicated. Do you really want to talk about this right now?”

“No. I want to do this.” Tomura reaches over, grabs you by the hem of your shirt, and yanks you onto the bed. “If you won’t come from sex, you have to come from something else.”

Like always, Tomura’s got weird ideas about how sex is supposed to work. You try to tell him that, but he’s already pushing the hem of your shirt up to bare your breasts, scraping his thumb along the underside of one while his lips close around the opposite nipple. Your skin is tingling. One of Tomura’s legs slips between yours and your hips lift against it involuntarily. Tomura draws back, smirking. “You’re already so wet. I barely did anything. You like watching me that much?”

“Yes.” You had a better retort, but he’s fiddling with your other nipple now, and it’s hard to focus. “You watch me all the time. I don’t get to watch you?”

“Only when I want you to.”

Once the two of you are done here, you’re going to introduce Tomura to the concept of hypocrisy. The thought forms in your head, then slips away as Tomura pushes your legs apart and sprawls out between them. Cold air brushes over your clit as he exhales, followed a moment later by his tongue. A gasp sneaks out of your mouth. Tomura makes a pleased sound, parts your folds with his thumbs, and dives into eating you out in earnest.

In general, Tomura is about as good at teasing as he is at edging, which is to say he’s terrible at it. He likes being told he’s good at things, and no matter how much he makes fun of you for getting off on him, he gets off on you just as much. But he’s teasing you today, absolutely merciless with it, his mouth barely leaving your skin while the pressure of his tongue and lips remains unbearably light. You lift your hips, seeking more friction, and he pins you down and continues at the same steady, insufficient pace.

“Tomura,” you plead. You know he’s weak to hearing you say his name. “Please, Tomura. I need you. Please –”

“What?”

“More,” you whisper, and Tomura stops, because he’s an asshole. “Please. When do I ever make you beg?”

Tomura’s cheek is pressed against your thigh. His mouth is wet, and you feel his lips curve into a smile. “Say it.”

Your brain is so scrambled that it takes you a second to realize what he means. And once you do, you’re borderline appalled. “No.”

“Why not?” Tomura accents the question by sliding two fingers inside you, torturously slow. “You said it before.”

“Humans don’t say ‘I love you’ during sex,” you say. The slow motion of his fingers is driving you insane, half because you know what he can do with them if he wants to and half because you’re a few minutes away from having his cock inside you and you’ve been thinking about it for weeks. “Besides, why should I say it again? You never said you loved me.”

Tomura’s only response to that is to bury his face between your legs. It doesn’t worry you. It’s impossible to worry about anything other than whether he’ll stop, but even if you could, you wouldn’t be worried about this. You’ve never expected Tomura to feel the way a human would about things, or express how he feels in the type of words humans use. You’ve always been willing to take what you can get, and if what you can get is the full focus of his attention and enthusiasm on making you come so hard you see stars, that’s more than fine with you.

You sit up as soon as your head’s stopped spinning, only to immediately find yourself squirming away from Tomura, who’s more than ready for round two. You put a hand on his chest to hold him back. “Condom first.”

It’s been a while since you had to deal with a condom, but it’s not the kind of thing you forget about. You decide it’ll be easier to do it yourself than to try to talk Tomura through it. You pry open the box, noting as you do that the collective expiration date is sooner than you thought it was, and get to work, trying not to think about the fact that you’ve had an unopened box of condoms in your possession long enough for it to practically expire. Tomura seems on board with the condom situation until you try to put it on him, at which point he makes a face. “I thought you had to wear it.”

“No, this time you do.” You haven’t been on birth control since your last relationship, but you’ll make an appointment with the doctor tomorrow and get back on it. If nothing else, you can be confident that Tomura’s not going to give you an STD. “Just to be safe.”

“Fine,” Tomura says, rolling his eyes. You shove at him until he sits back and leans against the headboard. “Hurry up.”

You were never uncertain about whether making Tomura come at least once before trying to have sex was a good idea, but now you’re convinced – even after that, he’s sensitive enough that putting on the condom makes him twitch and moan. For your part, you’re reminded all over again just how big he is, and you feel a sharp twinge of nerves. You shove it away. You’re not a virgin. You can handle this. This is why you decided to be on top.

You straddle Tomura carefully, leaning down for a kiss to settle your nerves. He’s enthusiastic as always, and it’s a struggle to pull away long enough to speak. “We’ll go slow at first. If one of us needs to take a break, we can.”

“A break?” Tomura’s eyes are dilated. His hands slide up beneath your shirt. Either they’re not as cold as they used to be or you’re getting used to them. “Why?”

“To compose ourselves so we don’t finish too soon.” You’re being very charitable in describing it as a “we” thing. “Or so I can adjust.”

You’re hoping Tomura won’t ask what you need to adjust to, and to remove the possibility entirely, you position yourself appropriately and start to sink down on his cock. It should be easy. You’re wet. You’ve already come once. You’re not a virgin. But Tomura’s easily the biggest you’ve ever slept with, and it’s been a while. The stretch is bordering on painful. More than bordering on it. Your eyes are watering.

Tomura sucks in a breath, eyes squeezed shut. One hand grabs a fistful of the pillows on the bed. The other seizes your hip like a lifeline, hard enough to leave ghost marks and real bruises. The pressure on your hip distracts you slightly from the pressure between your legs, and you sink down a little further, a whimper escaping from your mouth. Tomura’s eyes fly open at the sound. He shifts beneath you, and the sudden motion combined with your weak efforts to relax allow you to settle down the rest of the way, your body flush with his and his cock seated fully inside you.

You can feel your muscles straining, struggling to adjust. Tomura’s hold on your hip tightens even further. “Don’t move,” he hisses. You’ve got no intention of it. “I can’t – I want –”

“What?” You set your hands on his shoulders and cling desperately. You want to bury your face in his shoulder, but you’d have to lean forward, and you’re supposed to be riding him. You picked this position. You have to make it work, and the longer you have to adjust, the more accustomed you get to the pressure building up inside you. You need to hold still. You feel like you’ll split apart if you move. And at the same time you’re starting to feel – good. “Tomura?”

He shakes his head, jaw clenched. The hand on your hip loosens and slides down to cup the curve of your ass, shifting you forward and upwards ever so slightly. Even that slight change in position electrifies you. You gasp, and Tomura presses on your hip to shift you back to the same position as before. Then his hand slides to your ass again, and you figure out what he’s doing. You figure out what you’re doing, too. You take the motion Tomura outlined and shift slowly through it, at your own pace and under your own power.

The stretch of Tomura’s cock is easier to work through now that you know how to make it feel good. Each movement is still enough to drive the air out of your lungs, and your face heats up with a flush that spreads down your throat until your entire body feels hot and slick with sweat. Tomura’s flushed, too. He moves unsteadily beneath you with uneven jerks of his hips, trying to match your rhythm but either too inexperienced or too undone to manage it properly. The hand not grasping your hip slides beneath your shirt, along your back, fingernails sinking in. Nobody’s ever done that to you before. It’s really hot.

Tomura’s usually noisy when the two of you hook up – noisy, but never talkative unless you’re teasing him. At first you think this will be like that, and at first it is. The desperate noises escaping from his parted lips are as familiar as they are intoxicating, and your body tenses with desire in response. Tomura’s head falls back against the headboard, his chest heaving. And then, to your shock, he opens his mouth and speaks.

“You feel good,” he says, his voice raspier than you’ve ever heard it. “So good. So tight and hot and wet. You want this. Say you want it. Say you want me.”

You forgot about this part of sex, the part where anything feels reasonable if it keeps him inside you and keeps that almost-unbearable tension building through your body, radiating from the inside out. “I want you.”

“Say it again.” Tomura’s crimson eyes open, focus on yours. The intensity of his gaze and the sensation of his nails digging into your back and the feeling of his slow, almost experimental thrusts is almost too much. You’re not sure you can talk. “Say you want me like I want you. I wanted you before I knew how to want things. You feel so good. Fuck –”

You don’t have a praise kink like Tomura does, but you’ve never been immune to the sound of his voice. “I want you,” you say again. “So much, Tomura. I – ah –”

He’s moving faster now, not matching your pace so much as setting your own. You need that. You didn’t know how much you needed it until Tomura seized control, but for the first time in a long time, you’re completely at his mercy, letting him take the lead without direction or argument. You like the role you play in your relationship, and you wouldn’t want it to be different, but every so often it feels good to go along for the ride.

But it’s not a ride anymore. Tomura rolls the two of you over, pinning you beneath him. His cock slips out of you as you change position, and when you reach down to help him guide it back into place, you register something odd about the slickness of the condom. Any thought about it at all exits your mind as Tomura thrusts back into you. You hook your legs over his hips, gasping at the change in angle. “I want you,” you say again, and Tomura shudders, swears. “I want you, Tomura. I need you. Tomura, please. Please –”

You can feel him trying to control himself, trying to outlast you, and you’re about to tell him not to – except you don’t have to tell him, because the pressure building within you lasts for exactly three more thrusts before it snaps. You’ve never come just from something inside you before, but there’s a first time for everything, and you note through the haze that it makes a certain kind of sense. Tomura’s not like anyone you’ve met before, let alone slept with. Of course you’d come from just his cock.

Your back arches, your legs locking tighter around Tomura’s narrow hips, and although your vision is blurry, you can see him staring down at you, his hair falling around his face, his eyes dilated and his mouth open and panting. Your muscles clench tight around his cock and his jaw drops, the filthiest moan you’ve ever heard drifting through his cracked, parted lips. His hips jerk in the frantic thrusts that mean he’s close, the ones you remember from the times you’ve used your hands or your mouth, the times he’s rubbed himself to orgasm against your leg, your hip, your ass. What he says is familiar, too. “Tell me again. Tell me –”

“I love you,” you say. You’re his first – first handhold, first orgasm, first kiss, everything. If you have it your way, you’ll be his only. “You’re mine.”

Tomura comes, his body shaking, his eyelids fluttering. He’s so pretty. You tell him that and feel his hips twitch weakly again. Sometime – next time, maybe – you’d like to roll the two of you over and ride him to overstimulation, until he’s a sweaty, sticky, shuddering mess beneath you. That kind of thing will be easier once you’ve got birth control worked out. Right now there’s a condom to deal with.

Tomura’s physical form is fading fast, but he still manages to pull out, and he’s the one who alerts you that there’s a problem. “It broke.”

You slide one hand down between your legs and find that the condom is one hundred percent broken – and your fingers come away covered in some mix of your own wetness and Tomura’s cum when you dip them inside yourself to check. Tomura’s faded almost completely, but you can feel him watching, and feel his anxiety, too. There’s something endearingly human about it. Ordinarily you’d be unhappy, too, but you find yourself oddly calm. “It’s fine.”

“It’s fine?”

“Yeah. Not ideal, but I’ll pick up the morning-after pill on my way to work tomorrow.” You’ve never used it before, but you had friends who did, and while it’s expensive, it seems relatively low-impact. “I’m not worried about it.”

It’s quiet for a second. “So we can do it again.”

“Yes,” you say. “Not right now. I don’t think either of us has the energy for that.”

“I had to use some of your plants.” Tomura sounds guilty. “The – what do you call them. The ones that die every year.”

“Annuals. It’s okay.” It’s late October. They were dying anyway. “I’m glad you did.”

You don’t plant very many annuals. You wish you’d planted more – enough to give Tomura the energy to stay with you, so you won’t have to fall asleep alone tonight.  But at least you’ll fall asleep amidst the evidence of everything you do have, instead of thinking about the one thing you don’t.

You get up from the bed on absurdly shaky legs and dispose of the condom in the bathroom trash, then set about cleaning up. You can’t clean up all the way, courtesy of the condom fiasco – according to your college friends, who definitely had more adventurous sex lives than you did, cum leaks out at its own pace. You and Tomura didn’t bother getting under the covers, so you peel off the duvet and swap it out for a quilt from the closet. Then you start getting dressed.

You have to undress the rest of the way in order to put on clean clothes. You’ve just taken off your shirt when a cold hand lands on your back, scaring the hell out of you. You twist around, looking for Tomura, but he’s not materialized, and his hand lands on your back again. “What are these?”

It takes you a second to realize what he’s referring to. “The scratches? You did those. When I was on top.”

“They hurt.”

You shrug. The soon-to-be bruises on your hips hurt more, and you’re sorer than expected, courtesy of Tomura’s size and his enthusiasm towards the end. “It’s fine.”

“You’re really calm,” Tomura says suspiciously. “Why?”

You were thinking about putting on real clothes. You change your mind and get into your pajamas instead. “Sex is always sort of weird. I was expecting that. But sex for humans releases all kinds of stuff in our brains that makes us feel good, even if it’s not the best sex ever. And this was really good. So I feel calm. How do you feel?”

Tomura doesn’t answer. You open the door to your room in case Phantom wants in, then get into bed and curl up tight. The cold settles in around you a few moments later, and you hear Tomura’s voice in your ear. “I thought humans weren’t supposed to say I love you during sex.”

“Sometimes humans don’t do what we’re supposed to do,” you say. Tomura snorts. “It’s usually sort of a mood killer.”

“I liked it.” For a moment, Tomura’s physical presence feels real. You feel the weight of his arm draped over you, the solidity of his body curled around yours – and then he’s gone. “I love you.”

You didn’t need to hear him say it. You knew how he felt about you. But it’s nice to hear it anyway. You fall asleep fast, with a smile on your face.

it's time to be self-indulgent, hell yeah baby!

Shigaraki Headcanons: Allergies

As a kid, Shigaraki had a ton of allergies. He couldn’t eat a lot of foods, including anything with nuts, certain fruits, and eggs. When AFO took him in, Shigaraki, like any five-year old, would constantly mention his allergies and dietary restrictions to him. AFO blew him off, because allergies aren’t real…  Shigaraki nearly died twice in that week alone. His near-death experiences traumatized him, causing him to refuse any food AFO prepared for him. The only time Shigaraki would eat, is when they got fast food, since Shigaraki remembered being able to eat McDonalds without having an allergic reaction. AFO quickly caved in and bought Shigaraki fast food everyday to keep him from starving. He became a picky eater, but AFO didn’t care enough to correct his habits.

Over time, AFO would spend a small fortune on trying to cure Shigaraki’s allergies through Garaki. Shigaraki was subjected to weekly shots for his allergies and his skin. He only stopped getting the shots when AFO got arrested. By that point, he grew out of most of his allergies anyways.

What would’ve happened if Theon (YellowCat)met/married(somehow) Leshy while he was still a bishop?

Theon as the disciple of Chaos.

Instead of being sacrificed from the begining he gets to join Leshy's faith first as a guardian and later becoming a disciple. He'd still be sacrificed in Leshy's name, but after many years of serving him and with the proper devotion.

Anon you gave me so many brainworms w that ask thank u

Sweet Dreams

Shigaraki x F!Reader smut

Warnings: +18 MINORS DNI! Dubcon, (Shigaraki believes you're asleep when in fact, you're not) somnophilia, oral sex (m. receiving), spit play, cum in mouth

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Kohei Horikoshi

Synopsis: It's a fantasy Shigaraki can't say no to anymore. Sneaking into your room at night, he intents to use your mouth to get himself off

A.N.: This idea has been in my head for a while and since I miss him so so much, it was time to put idea into words💕

Word count: 1.2k

Most desires are harmless when given into. But then there are those that must remain inaccessible, no matter how strong the temptation. The one Shigaraki is about to execute belongs to the latter. 

You are just so irresistibly beautiful when splayed out on the mattress, hair messy and mouth slightly agape. Sound asleep, you look peaceful and so deep in your dreams that nothing could bother you. In fact, having sneaked into your room multiple times at night, Shigaraki knows his presence won’t disturb your sleep.

Such thought encourages him to live out the filthy fantasy, which started as nothing more than a mental image, something he liked to fuck his fist to. But it evolved slowly into a depraved idea that he had been able to deny at first. But the compulsive thoughts turned into needs and tonight his frustration has an iron grip on his restraint. 

That’s why he stands beside your bed, hands stuffed in the pockets of his black sweatpants, upper body completely bare. Staring down at your slumbering figure that’s clad in nothing but panties and a camisole top. 

His eyes lack emotion, but what he truly feels is control, possessiveness. His cock throbs for knowing that you’re entirely at his mercy. So while listening to your calm breathing, he slowly pushes his sweats down to his ankles, freeing his hardened, aching cock from its confines. 

He then places his weight on the bed, straddling your waist first. Spending a minute to admire your beauty, he moves strands away from your face and carefully tucks some behind your ear. Setting your arms on your sides, he positions himself on top of you so that your head rests between his thighs. 

Aroused, he breathes heavily from soon getting to shove his cock in your pretty mouth. But first he wants to tease himself a little. Letting his balls rest on your chin while giving himself a few relieving pumps. Closing his eyes and leaning his head back, his adam’s apple bobs as he tries to stifle groans of pleasure.  

Having never been this close to the foul fantasy, he wants to cherish the moment and jerk off above you while his heavy balls jiggle against your face. Panting in pleasure, he looks down at your blissfully unaware state and bites the scar of his lip at the sight. 

He then carefully shifts in his position, sweeping his thumb softly on your bottom lip to cautiously open your mouth. Giving your glossy lips a few lewd taps with the head of his cock, he enters, slowly, but determinedly.

Eyes rolling in the back of his skull, the softness of your tongue is intoxicating. Your breath feels hot, heavenly, as he gently angles your head and fucks into your cheek. It’s exhilarating, the way your skin stretches into the shape of his dick.  

With controlled motions, he carefully rocks his hips and observes how his cock slides in and out of your mouth. He has to grit his teeth to keep the profanities behind them, but it’s futile. 

“Fuck— Ah..” He grunts quietly, pleasure blurring his discretion after every shallow thrust, “Yeah.. Take it, fucking slut,” he leans in a little and secures his posture with one hand flat on the mattress. 

Having crossed one line means that another can be violated too. The remnants of any sense disappear when he stops fighting the urge to grip your hair. Grasping a handful of it, he thrusts steadily into your cheek, “Nngh.. You love to suck my dick, don’t you baby..?” 

Leaning his head back momentarily, he basks in the sinful bliss before continuing to observe your oblivious figure to suck his cock. 

But as pleasure surges through him, the need for more also grows. More importantly, he wants to get rough with you. So throwing caution out the window as if it was never there, he gives a few more thrusts into your cheek before pulling out.

Getting up, he gently grabs your pliant body and pulls you so that your head hangs from the edge of the bed. That way he can have full access to your throat. 

When your position is just perfect, he takes a look at you. His eyes hooded, a predatory smirk spreads on his features as he fists his cock. Aren’t you just the sweetest little toy for him? 

While jerking himself off, he crouches a little and spits in your mouth, spreading his saliva on your tongue with index finger. Straightening his posture, he gently rubs his balls on your face. Then slapping your cheeks a few times with the head of his cock before entering your mouth again. 

Features distorting almost disturbingly, his tongue lolls out as he feels the tightness of your throat around his dick.

“Fuck yeah.. “ He huffs, hands tangling up into your hair as he holds your head. 

Beginning to thrust steadily, he’s more content with the amount of pleasure he gets from your body. Squelching sounds reverberate inside your throat as he shamelessly humps your mouth. It’s arousing, daring Shigaraki to fuck your face faster. And he has always been bad at saying ‘no’ to himself. 

Picking up the pace, his heavy balls swing against your nose obscenely, your sleepy sounds vibrating around his cock. Even though Shigaraki knows that you might wake up from the rough treatment, he doesn’t care anymore. He’s gonna use your throat to get himself off whether you like it or not. 

“Nnh— I’m gonna blow my load in your mouth baby,” he grunts, feeling his balls tightening in approaching orgasm.

“Ahh— You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Obviously he doesn’t expect you to answer, but the cute, sleepy hums are enough to convince him you’d just love for him to paint the insides of your throat with his cum. 

The mere thought makes his thrusts sloppy as he nears his bliss. Hands gripping your hair tightly as he shoves his whole dick in, grunting through gritted teeth as he spills his seed in steady spurts in the back of your throat. Holding your head still, he takes his time to empty himself, making sure every drop of his cum races down your throat, into your belly. 

Sighing contentedly, he pulls his cock out, unceremoniously. Then he slips back into his sweats and proceeds to move your body back into its position, as if he hasn’t just blatantly used you. Tucking you in, he admires you with a twisted smile on his face before walking towards the door. 

He glances over his shoulder one last time with the most satisfied smirk on his face, “Sweet dreams, baby,” he says before closing the door. 

Unbeknownst to him though, you swallow his load with a lecherous sound. Cracking open your hooded eyes, a debauched smile appears on your face. There’s an unbearable ache in your clit and your panties are absolutely drenched for being more than compliant to let the League’s leader use your mouth to please himself. 

Narilamb

Narinder asking the lamb for flowers but when he bring them proceding to refuse them because he didn't really expected him to find them(and risk his life while doing so) and because he think it make him "weak" but he secretly love the fact that he did even if he act all angry like a tsundere