Accidental Boyfriend Drabble: Want A Hug

A new life for Tomura part 5

Radio Silence - a Shigaraki x Reader oneshot

For the last year, your best friend has been somebody you've never met. When Tenko suddenly stops answering your messages, you don't know what to do. Canon, reader has self-esteem issues, 2.1k.

You’ve been avoiding your phone for what feels like days, but you know it’s been hours, or less. You hid it under a pile of clean clothes in your closet so you wouldn’t check it every five seconds. You muted all your alert sounds, except one. You gave yourself a long list of other things to do, hoping the tasks would distract you. But your mind always wanders, somehow, and it always wanders right back to what’s not happening. Every day for the last year you’ve been able to count on at least a message or two – and usually more – from a person you’ve never met face to face. And for the last three days, you haven’t heard from him once.

Tenko keeps weird hours. You know that. You know he goes dark for half the day or more at a time, and the one time you asked if he was okay, he went off on you for fifteen messages in a row. At first you thought it was because you’d gotten too familiar, made a conversation struck up in a Discord server into more than it was, but a week of shallow conversation later, you got a way-too-pissed message asking why you never asked how he was doing anymore. Tenko’s the king of mixed signals. You know that, too.

And at the same time, you know from the details he’s shared that he’s as far from okay as it’s possible to be. He’s sick a lot. He gets hurt a lot, and he won’t tell you how. Sometimes the anger pouring out of his messages scares you a little. And sometimes it’s validating, because you’re not okay, either. You’re angry, too. Sometimes the only thing that makes you feel better is knowing that you’re not alone in feeling that way.

You have been alone, though. The last three days, you’ve had nobody to talk to, and you’re angry at him for leaving you in the dark, for not just telling you that he was done with you. If he’d told you that, you could have gotten angry back, and maybe gotten a reason why he didn’t want to talk to you anymore. Instead you’re sitting here wondering what you did. Worrying that something happened to him. And then reminding yourself that nothing needs to happen to someone for them to want you gone. Everybody does, eventually. You aren’t worth sticking around for.

You knew that. You expected it. You just didn’t expect it to hurt this much.

You can’t avoid your phone forever. Eventually you need it for something, so you dig it out, and you switch on all the alert sounds again. You’ve been through this before, and no matter how much it hurts that the person you’re closest to has ghosted you, the world’s not going to stop so you can collapse in a miserable, self-loathing heap. Life keeps moving, even when you don’t want to be part of it. You have enough shame left to prefer walking rather than being dragged along.

The days begin to add up, and you try to force Tenko out of your mind. It’s hard to do, because you used to tell him everything. You stop taking pictures of things, because you know there’s no one to send them to any longer, and every time you open up your messaging app, you see the last message you sent him, hovering like a bad dream at the top of the list. It seemed innocuous when you sent it, but when you look at it now, all you can think about is how stupid it is. No wonder he stopped talking to you. You’re useless.

Your quirk is boring. Most people’s quirks are, but you’re also lazy, so you didn’t try hard enough in school to make up for being useless that way, and you’re not pretty, either – not that it matters, he’s never seen what you look like – so there’s nothing redeemable about you. Maybe he made better friends. You were probably only a placeholder for him. You just wish he’d had the grace to tell you that ahead of time.

A week becomes two weeks. A month. A little more than that, and although other messages have pushed your thread with Tenko out of sight, he’s still on your mind. You haven’t blocked him yet, even though you should. One night after work, you sit down with a bottle of vodka and a shot glass, swearing you’ll drink until you work up the courage. But before you work up the courage to do that, you work up the courage for something else. There was a while where Tenko was sending you voice memos instead of messages, because he’d gotten hurt and he couldn’t type. You’ve heard his voice, but he’s never heard yours. You’re going to make him listen to it. At least once.

You press the voice call button and listen to it ring three times before it abruptly disconnects. Screw him. You call back again, and this time, it rings all the way through and invites you to leave a message. Yeah, you’ll leave a message. Your message to Tenko is “fuck you”.

But when the voicemail starts to record, the words come to a hard stop in your throat. “Hi,” you start. “It’s – um –”

You forget your own name, like a clown. You didn’t think you were that drunk. “It’s me,” you say finally. The call log will show your name. He’ll know who it is. “I haven’t heard from you in, like, a month and a half, and I miss talking to you. I really miss it. And maybe I talked to you too much, or something, and that’s why you left.”

Your throat starts to close. “I know it might not be that you left, but it’s easier for me to think that than to think that something bad happened to you. I don’t want something bad to have happened to you. So it makes more sense that it’s my fault. I wish you had told me what I did, so I could fix it for the next person I talk to. If there’s a next person. I’m running out of lives on this friendship thing. Or whatever this was. Sometimes I thought –”

Sometimes you thought what? Even drunk and teary and pathetic, you can’t get the words out of your mouth. It’s too embarrassing. The only thing worse than wanting something is getting caught doing it, especially something that you should have known better than to think you’d get. “It doesn’t matter,” you say instead, and then you sniffle audibly, because your nose is running. Gross. “Anyway. You’re probably not even going to listen to this when you get it, and that’s fine. I wanted to let you have it about what a dick you are for ghosting me, but I couldn’t even do that. I guess I just – I don’t know. I hope nothing bad happened to you and you’re just done with me. I hope it’s nice, wherever you are.”

That’s a good sentiment to end things on. But of course you have to fuck it up, because you’re you. “I really miss you,” you say, and you know the voicemail recording is going to capture exactly how choked up you are. “I wish you had just told me, Tenko –”

The answering machine cuts off. You’ve been babbling so long that you ran out of tape, and somehow that’s the thing that makes it all too difficult to bear. You burst into big, stupid tears, your face in your hands, and instead of drinking more or lying down or doing anything that makes sense, you put your down on the table next to the vodka and shot glass and cry yourself to sleep, like you’re in high school all over again, learning a lesson you should have learned the first time. You’re never going to be someone’s first choice. You aren’t even worth a real goodbye.

When you wake up again, you’ve cried yourself out, and you’ve got a splitting headache to go with a mouth that tastes like vodka and death. You should also have a crick in your neck from sleeping on your kitchen table, but you’re not on the kitchen table. You’re not on the floor, either, or on your couch. Your head is on a pillow that’s a lot nicer than the pillows on your bed, and there’s a blanket pulled awkwardly over you. The air smells different, too. The mold-flavored air in your apartment is usually enough to send you sprinting to the bathroom when you wake up with a hangover, but this air is clean.

Are you even in your apartment anymore? You sit up slowly and get the answer – nope, absolutely not, because the room you’re in is a bedroom that’s bigger than your entire apartment. It’s probably the nicest room you’ve ever been in, if you’re being totally honest. Did someone kidnap you? Did you die? The latter feels way more plausible to you. You’re not interesting enough to kidnap. But if you’re dead, it feels kind of unfair to have a hangover on top of it.

“Finally,” a familiar voice says, from somewhere nearby. “I thought you were never going to snap out of it.”

You whip around fast enough to make yourself dizzy. The bed you’re sprawled out on is big enough that you could fit another bed between you and the person on the other side of it. The person over there is in a leg cast, with bandaged hands and bandages on his face. You couldn’t recognize his face even if you could see it. But you do recognize his voice. You can’t believe your ears. “Tenko?”

“Yeah,” Tenko says, like any of this is normal. “I was wondering if you were going to call.”

“If I was going to?” you manage.

“Yeah. You ghosted me.” Tenko looks at you. You didn’t have a clear picture in your head of what he looked like, but this definitely wasn’t it – white hair, red eyes, a face completely covered in bandages. “That was kind of shitty.”

“You didn’t answer my message for months,” you protest. “That’s what ghosting is. Not me not calling you after you didn’t message me back.”

“Whatever,” Tenko says. You know it’s him. It’s his voice. But you can’t get over everything else that’s weird about the situation – the way-too-opulent room, the fact that Tenko’s clearly been beat to shit, the fact that you fell asleep at the kitchen table and woke up here. Wherever here is. “If you called earlier I’d have come to get you earlier.”

He was waiting for you to talk to him? You’re tempted to look up ghosting on your phone and make him read the actual dictionary definition, but whoever brought you here left your phone behind. And there’s a bigger question you need answered. “Where am I?”

“This is headquarters.” Tenko shrugs, then winces. Is his arm in a sling, too? “For the League of Villains.”

You cough. “Or maybe it’s not the League anymore. They’re changing the name,” Tenko continues. The League of Villains? “Anyway, it’s a lot nicer than our last place. Makes your apartment look like a hole in the ground.”

“How do you know what my apartment looks like?”

“How do you think I knew where to get you?” Tenko gives you a weird look. “You’re here now. I’ll take you to meet everybody once you’re sober.”

He settles down on his side of the bed, grimacing as he tries to get comfortable. It looks like he’s ready to take a nap. He has to be joking. He just kidnapped you, or had you kidnapped, and he’s with the League of Villains. He thought you were ghosting him the whole time instead of him ghosting you, and instead of explaining anything at all, he’s going to take a nap. The anger you should have expressed on the phone call comes up. “Who are you, Tenko?”

“That’s not my name,” he says. “I couldn’t tell you my real one before. But I guess –”

He reaches over to a nightstand and picks something up, and your heart skips six or seven beats in a row. Not in the good way. The way where you’ve missed a step on the stairs and you’re not sure you can catch yourself before it’s too late. Your online friend settles the hand over his face and glances towards you. “Shigaraki Tomura,” he says, a crooked smile showing through the bandages. “Nice to finally meet you in person.”

He closes his eyes and falls asleep without removing the hand. You’ve spent the last month and a half tearing yourself up over being ghosted. It never occurred to you that there might be worse things. Depending on what happens when Shigaraki Tomura wakes up, this could all too easily be one of them.

its kinda sad but you'r my reason to live 🫤

Shigaraki Being Comforting Headcannon

———————————————————————————

Shigaraki//non gender specific reader. Detailed description of depression, implied suicidal ideations, mentions of alcohol, PLF arc.

You sat next to Shigaraki at the PLF’s upscale bar. He was alone, playing on his switch, just trying to pass the time while waiting for his injuries to heal and enjoy some peace and quiet.

You felt lonely too, and have looked up to your boss since you joined the league in the very beginning. Proud of how far he’s made it.. how far we’ve all made it.. but you can’t ignore the quiet depression lingering in the background of your mind. Even in moments of celebration, it’s there. It’s always there, following you like an unwanted entity, feeling as though it is forever attached to you.

Today was one of those days where the depression got louder. You could no longer bury it or push it away, it was demanding for you to feel its presence, to acknowledge it and face it. You felt heavy, empty, and alone, even though you were surrounded by people all the time, the feeling of worthlessness embodied your soul.

You were more quiet than usual, normally you talk a lot or at least smile at him and ask about his games, but not today. You just sat there staring at your drink as if you were looking through it. He couldn’t help but notice. “Either drink it or don’t, it’s creepy that you’re just sitting here like this”

Without looking away or moving, a tear falls down your face, changing his tone as one of his comrades is feeling pain. “Hey. Don’t just sit there and cry, tell me what’s wrong?”

You respond in a quiet and shaky voice, continuing to not move an inch, frozen in your tragic state, “it’s kinda sad but.. you’re my reason to live”

He doesn’t say anything.

Shigaraki just stares at you for a moment, his mouth slightly ajar as he is trying to choose his words carefully.

“Why does it have to be sad? I’d say that’s a great reason to exist” he grins.

You don’t react to his shitty joke. He then takes a sip of his drink and his voice becomes more serious.

“Look. That’s the reason I’m trying to change this rotten world. To destroy it. Will there by anything left after? Who knows really… but it’s better than living in a world full of pseudo-hero’s and all the dumbass people who worship the ground they walk on. The rejection felt from those around us will only grow stronger and more powerful each day until we do something about it. That’s why you’re here with the league right? Because you want to make a change too? So don’t do anything stupid to jeopardize that. You’re an important player in this game, you’ve survived this long with the issues you’ve had to face and deal with, what’s a little longer? Get angry, and fight back. I need you.”

Note from author:

It’s my first ever headcannon/short fic so I’m sorry if it’s bad or boring >.< I just wanted to spice up the ask responses a little bit if I can.

shig keeping count how many times he can make you cum before you're shaking and sobbing from overstimulation

“It really is cute how sensitive your little body gets after your fifth orgasm, you know.” He trails his hands lightly down your stomach, your tummy muscles clenching in anticipation and agony. Your knees are trying to jerk shut to prevent him access, but the binds around your ankles keep your legs splayed. Your chest rises and falls in erratic rhythm, breath only barely returning to you after your last dive over the edge. 

“Don’t- Please don’t!” 

Some of the tears beading on your lashes slip down your cheeks as you slam your eyes shut. You can’t take anymore. Physically, you can’t. Yet, you can feel his pinkie finger tracing little figure eights up your leg and every muscle in your body clenches in protest. It doesn’t matter how much you buck and hiss against his treatment, the frame of the bed never gives way to your tantrum. 

He cocks his head with all the feigned innocence of a child who pretends they don’t know they’ve done wrong. “What’s the matter? I thought this was supposed to feel good?” The cold, sarcastic tone to his voice breaks the facade if nothing else does, but the callous way his nails dig into your thigh is a close second. 

He sees you flinch and tremble as he slowly draws closer to your apex and his lips tick in a sick sense of satisfaction. There’s a practiced sort of patience in his actions, the way he comes near enough to your overstimulated heat to make you imbed your fingernails into your palms until your knuckles turn white only for him to withdraw over and over without ever allowing you to relinquish the sense of dread it brings when he does. The second he’s seen that you’ve formed some sense of calm around his wandering fingers is when he strikes. 

“I can’t! Seriously, I can’t!”

He gives you a derisive look of sympathy and you know it means nothing. He doesn’t want to hear you beg. If he did, he would have accomplished his goal hours ago. Truth be told, you’re not entirely sure what he wants. The only thing that you know is that there’s such a thing as too much pleasure and he has perfected exactly how to weaponize that against you. You’re strapped down, at his mercy, and he looks far from bored. 

He’s gaining something from this, surely some sadistic urge is being filled, because he hasn’t even taken off his clothes. This hasn’t even begun yet and you’re sick in the knowledge. He’s molding you like a ball of play-dough, squeezing and squishing until you’re malleable enough for him to want to play with. Judging by the way he’s still skirting the edges of your thighs and showing no signs of moving from his sitting position beside you, you’re not broken enough to be any fun yet. 

You’re rubbed raw, legs chafing with a tacky trail leading from where he found his way inside you before to where his hand dances tenderly around your pebbled nipple. Every grace of his fingertips across you pimples your flesh and makes you acutely aware he’s just toying with you. He drives the point home by scratching up your hip, little red welts raising over skin as your leg jerks instinctively from the pain despite the fact that you know you can’t break free. 

“It’s actually impressive. This long and you’re still so responsive.” He muses, poking and prodding at your chest like a specimen. “I thought you would have gone numb a long time ago.” 

He punctuates his sentence with a none-to-gentle pinch on your breast. You can’t bring yourself to tell him that’s not entirely how it works, not when you can practically see the wheels turning in head turning as he contemplates how he wants to torture you next. His pupils are dilated as they run over your exposed form and you’re not entirely sure whether its with arousal or sheer curiosity. With him, it’s anyone’s guess.

“Please, I can’t take it!”

His hand finds its way between your legs again, cupping and stroking with one finger so lightly that normally you likely wouldn’t even be able to register it, but in your hypersensitivity, your thigh muscles twitch and a wail of agony bubbles in your throat. 

“Aw, baby can’t take it anymore?”

He leans in, leaving one hand to coax your already overindulged pussy, the other softly caressing your cheek. It’s a warning sign, a crocodile lazily observing its pray before snapping shut its jaws. His heavily lidded eyes scan your face, sides of his lips curling into a deceptively delicate smile. Your head lulls into his hand, and even though you know the dangers, you fall into his trap.

You regret it as quickly as you do it, and you cry out in a mixture of devastating bliss and torment as his finger plunges back up inside your sore walls, stimulating the overworked nerves with the pads of his fingertip. 

“Why don’t we find out just how much you can really take?” 

Day 3 | Tomura Shigaraki x F!Reader (18+)

Bruising | Washing/Cleaning Each Other

Content Warnings: Bruises (bite marks, hickies, ect are mentioned), Vaginal Sex, Female Reader (dialogue and AFAB body parts mentioned), Unsafe Sex, Bathroom Sex, Rough Sex

Word Count: 1,311

Summary: 

You both move into the bathroom to rinse the night’s activities away but wandering thoughts and eager eyes make cleaning up the last thing on Tomura’s mind.

Tomura’s eyes scanned over your body, lingering on your ass more than anything. He could see every scratch, bruise, and mark he left on your bare skin. His filthy mind reminded of everything that he did to cause them. His eyes were immediately drawn to your thoroughly abused cunt as you bent over to move the shower stool out of the way, his cum still leaking out. You turned on the water and turned back to face him as you let the water run over your head.

Your hand reaches out towards him and gestures for him to get closer. “Come on.” You said, moving yourself over to grab his arm since he wasn’t moving immediately. “Why do you have to be so difficult, it hurts to move.”

“I’d be upset if you didn’t.” He mumbled, letting you put him under the water instead as you moved out of the way. 

You let out a chuckle, moving to grab a cloth you laid close by. You lathered up some soap on a cloth and started scrubbing at his arm. “I know, I know because if I wasn’t in pain that means you ‘did it wrong.’” You joked, rubbing the soapy cloth over his other arm. 

Tomura let out a snort at your terrible joke as you used the cloth to scrub at the skin on his chest before turning him around so his back was facing you. You used the cloth to lightly scrub at his skin, the scratch marks and scars that you left on his back left your cunt tingling. You started feeling warmth in your core again, even though every logical part of your brain said it was a bad idea to go again. You felt like he’d tear you apart. That just excited you more though. 

You used your foot to scoot the stool back over, Tomura taking the lead to sit on it himself. He loved when you washed his hair, it was relaxing. You always did it better than he could do it himself. He closed his eyes and leaned into your touch as you started lathering the shampoo into his hair. You took your time scrapping your nails against his scalp, knowing just how much he liked it. You always joked that it was an easy way to make him docile. 

“Feel good?” You asked, honestly not expecting much of a response.

He gave a grunt in response as you stayed like that for a few moments before you reached over to grab the handheld showerhead off the wall to rinse his hair. He kept his eyes closed as you ran your fingers through his hair as you rinsed all the soap out. You quickly ran some conditioner through his hair before you placed the showerhead back on the hook. Your peripheral gave you warning before you heard him stand up beside you. You turned around to look at him, to see the eager look he had in his eyes. His fingers ran along the bruises he dug into your hips, something unknown flashing across his eyes. 

He debated in his own head if he wanted to attempt returning the favor of trying to wash you. He didn’t think he would do it to your standards, let alone well enough before he’d just start getting distracted by your body. You carefully watched him for a moment before you reached over and grabbed that same washcloth from before and lathered more soap on it. You ran it over your arms before letting it run across your breasts, taking note of his now hardened cock twitching as he watched you. 

You let the washcloth drop as your hands moved to rub the soapy lather over your breasts. You moved closer to Tomura as you placed your chest against his, your breasts squished against his skin, as your hand dropped to wrap your soapy fingers around his cock.

“Someone’s excited again.” You teased, suddenly feeling his fingers on your ass. He dug them in as you squeezed your fist tighter around him, pumping in a steady rhythm. 

“You’re naked and shoving your tits in my face, what did you expect?” He sarcastically asked, nudging your body back towards the wall. His head found the crook of your neck, his hot breath ghosting against the various bite marks and bruises littering your skin. “I’m still pissed that you can stand right now.”

“I’m only standing because I have to.” You joked, your cunt clenching in anticipation as you felt him twitch against your hand. “You’re gonna ruin all my hard work getting you clean.”

“We’ll just stay in the bathroom, then you can rinse me off again.” He said, reaching over to turn the water off. His tongue ran along the marks on your neck as his nails dug into your skin.

“That sounds appealing to you, not to me.” You responded, hearing his breath hitch as you suddenly stopped your movement on his cock. “I still have soap on me, you know.”

He lifted his head, his red eyes darker as he glared at you. “You made this your problem.” He said, grabbing your waist as he forced you onto the floor of the bathroom.

You yelped in surprise, your bruised body hitting the wet hard floor. You winced at the pain as you felt Tomura push your legs aside, spreading them so he had a full view of your soaked cunt. You glared up at him as you watched him move his fingers down to dip them into your entrance, soaking his fingers in your juices and his own cum. He pumped them inside you, your gasp of surprise turning quickly into a chorus of moans. 

“Not fighting much anymore, are you?” He teased, taking his fingers out before he ran them along your folds. 

He used his soaked fingers to coat his cock before he positioned him between your legs fully. He slammed himself into you, not giving you any room to adjust. It burned as his cock stretched you, your hands reaching up to grab at his arms. Your nails dug into his skin as your mind raced with the mixture of pleasure and pain. Your cunt was thoroughly sore from what he’s already done to you but it begs for him to fuck you senseless. 

Four of his fingers dig into the skin on both of your legs as he uses it to hold you steady, his hips slamming into yours. His wet skin slapping against yours as you cry out, your walls practically sucking him in. Your cunt begging to be filled again. The friction burned and your muscles screamed for peace but your mind was clouded with the shape of his cock molding itself inside of you.

“Feels so–good..” He whispered to himself, his eyes closed as his hips started to stutter. 

You whined as felt him dig his fingers further into your skin, leaving you with more reminders of his claim on you. Your nails dragged across his arms leaving reminders of your own as you felt him quicken his pace. More hot cum shot inside of your pulsing cunt as you whimper from his animalistic rutting as he rides out his orgasm. His hips give one final stutter before he slowly slides his cock out of you, the feeling causing a long whine out of your throat. 

You move to sit up as you immediately feel the screaming from your body, clearly not happy with your decision to put it through more pain. You wince as you struggle to stand up, bracing yourself against the wall as you go. You look over and see Tomura sitting back on the shower stool. 

“Happy now?” You asked, grumpily turning the water back on. “I’m definitely going to be stuck in bed all day tomorrow because of you.”

“That was the plan.”

Safe Wording with the League

League of Villains Reacting to You Safe Wording

Characters: Dabi, Shigaraki, Compress, Twice, Toga with female!reader

Warnings: overstimulation, biting kink, sir/master kink, role playing, dom/sub themes, sex toys, oral (female receiving), degradation, edging, begging(?) , mentions of knife and blood play, alluding to past traumas (let me know if I missed warnings)

Note: practice safe sex, and talk about safe words and boundaries if you need to

Dabi

Dabi and you typically have fairly intense sex anyways

But tonight, dabi and you were going pretty hard

Dabi had been eating you out for a while now

“What a little slut, can’t even handle my teasing”

By this point, you had cum more times than you could count, crying and overstimulated

“No more.. please” but all dabi did was smirk before assaulting your swollen cunt even more

You tried pushing his head away but his grip on your thighs only tightened

Before dabi could even come up with some snarky remark, you safe worded out

He almost didn’t hear you, almost

But he did, and stopped before sitting up and looking at your crying face

He didn’t know how to feel, you had never safe worded before and hell if he knew what to do

He got up and left to get a rag to help clean you up and got you come clothes and blankets

Once he was finished, he got you a glass of water and sat next to you on the bed

“Need anything else?” His eyes were planted on your crying face as you tried to form a sentence

You sleepily shook your head as Dabi settled into bed next to you and wrapped an arm around you

Shigaraki

Shigaraki liked to play the Master with you as a servant or maid, or even sometimes a pet

Tonight was no different, but unlike the other times Shigaraki was already having a bad day 

Unfortunately for you, it meant taking his anger out on you while doing the deed 

Now, neither of you have ever shied away from degradation before but something about Shigaraki’s tone made it feel real 

Like he actually saw you as all the things he claimed you were and that was too much 

The moment he heard you safe word, his body stopped and his mind raced 

Did he do something wrong? Were you okay?? 

Almost immediately his hand reached down to your cheek/neck as he pulled out and pulled you into a sitting position

For once in his life he felt like the world ended 

He didn’t know what to say, but he knew how to take care of you and that’s what he did 

cleaning you up and making sure you were warm and in all the clothing you found the most comfortable

The night ended with the two of you wrapped up in each other 

you both had a serious talk in the morning about what happened and how to prevent it later in life 

Mr. Compress

Out of all of the people in the league, Compress knew where the line in the sand was, even without you two talking about boundaries 

He had a couple partners in the past that had become sexual and given his theatrical personality, he always made sure to talk about safe words and the such 

You were no different and he valued your input and your opinions

You had used your safe word in the past so he knew what you needed

But he is a gentleman first and foremost so he cleaned you up carefully before tending to other things

Need a bath? He’s already getting out your favorite candles

Need some time to recover and decompress? Done! He’s right there, holding you and letting you do your thing in comfortable silence

Need reassurance? This man has you covered. He’ll praise you and promise you that you did nothing wrong and that he’s proud of you for safe wording

Overall, compress is the best person to safe word with

Twice

With twice, it’s a bit difficult to get intimate with him

Yes, he finds you attractive (who wouldn’t find you attractive??) but with his spilt personality it can be hard

But you don’t mind the challenge, and even encourage both of “him” to engage in play

While this is a bit tricky to navigate the first coupes of times, you do get the hang of it.

Though, sometimes his other side does take it too far

Sometimes even going as far as making twice stop what he’s doing and blurts out something along the lines of “you can never be good enough for us”

And it’s those times when you safe word, which trigger twice into a protector mode

He immediately rushes over to you, gently cradling your head and asking what’s wrong

You two always find yourselves having a long chat that ends with soft kisses and the best cuddles

Toga

Toga doesn’t know what safe words are

Hell, she may not but just doesn’t care

But she cares with you, she cares so much for you and your safety

She even has dull, blunt knives to use with you

She always ensures that you are okay with her biting you or using a knife with you

And, you two have a wonderful, pleasureful experience

Until today, when everything was piling up and up and up until all you could feel was your worries and anxieties

Toga tried to use pleasure as a way to help you destress, which usually worked

But today it had the opposite effect and it only heightened your anxiety

When you safe worded, toga couldn’t believe what she had just heard

She felt.. betrayed almost, she was just trying to help you!

So she left, leaving you to try and clean up by yourself

But compress saw her upset and upon figuring out, told her what to do and how to help

She came back, albeit begrudgingly, and helped clean you up and get you warm

It took a couple of days for her to even talk to you after that, but once you explained what happened she went back to her bubbly, homicidal self.

Okay, so here's where we're at apparently

Tomura is dead

Toga is dead (or, let's just call it as it is, she committed suicide) - this is despite the fact that if she died other characters (read: heroes) should have died as well, but didn't (Bakugo and Edgeshot for example)

Dabi is presumably still in the hospital (since we didn't see a funeral), unable to move or do anything on his own

Spinner wrote his book, but where he is and how he's actually doing is unknown - presumably he still has to deal with multiple quirks that aren't his own and are tearing at his body

Compress is alive but where he currently is is unknown - he read Spinner's book (and that's it)

Kurogiri exploded?? And nobody has bothered to mention anything about him since

Twice has been dead for a while, but his murderer is not only free of charge but also the head of the HPSC (which still exists btw)

Other things:

The hero ranking system still exists

Seemingly no real changes have been made which would help victims like the LOV before they felt like they had to turn to villainy to be heard/seen/understood

Deku gets to be a hero again by the power of ~technology~ - kinda making the whole deal about him losing his quirk feel pointless

Not from this chapter, but I still feel like it's very important to point out that it's heavily implied that Rei is just gonna take care of Enji (her abuser) now and probably for the rest of time

The few good things:

Ochako bringing more focus on mental health

That was it, I have nothing else

Starboy Tomura animation

Omg i get a nose bleed while drawing it🥵🥹

Skin Hunger (Chapter 3) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

There's no such thing as a good night at work when you work in the world's most infamous brothel for monsters, but your night takes a turn for the worse when you find yourself serving drinks to visiting half-vampire Shigaraki Tomura. You don't mean to catch his interest, and you don't mean to start a conversation. You definitely don't mean to get him drunk. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Chapter 3

“Do you ever think about leaving?”

That’s not a question you hear often. From anyone. “Do I what?”

“You heard me.”

You look up from the mess you’re wiping down on the pool deck of one of the suites in Asylum’s bathhouse wing. Shigaraki is watching you from one of the benches, finishing off the remains of a bottle of champagne the guests left behind. He raises his eyebrows, clearly waiting for an answer. You have one, but he won’t like it. “I don’t like thinking about things that won’t happen.”

“Why can’t it happen?” Shigaraki asks. He made his usual half-hearted offer to help when he followed you in here, but he’s allergic to almost every cleaning supply you use, and he’s so bad at it anyway that it’s faster for you to do it yourself. “Don’t you want to know what it’s like out there?”

“I know what it’s like out there,” you say, miffed. “I went to school out there. I’ve probably spent more time out there than you have.”

A few full moons back, the question of how you both got here came up. Shigaraki was about as disconcerted to learn that you were born in Asylum as you were to learn that his master first got ahold of him when he was five years old. “Then you know what you’re missing,” Shigaraki says. He takes a sip of champagne, then grimaces, probably because it went flat hours ago. “Do you ever think about leaving?”

“Everybody thinks about it.”

“What about you?”

You focus on your work, giving yourself time to think of a real answer. The bloodstain you’re scrubbing out of the tiles has probably been here longer than you’ve been alive, and a lot longer than you’ve known Shigaraki Tomura. After seven months, you’re getting better at ducking his questions. You’re getting worse at deciding which ones to duck in the first place.

Shigaraki’s master has come to Asylum to feed on every one of the last seven full moons, and each time, he’s brought Shigaraki with him. Shigaraki’s master comes to feed on the handpicked victims Overhaul and Chrono have found for him, while Shigaraki’s supposed to feed on whoever he can get his fangs into, but you’ve never seen him drink blood while he’s here. He’s hungry, usually. He usually drinks at least a little alcohol. And when he’s not eating, drinking, or conspicuously not drinking blood, he’s following you around.

You’ve stopped asking why he does it, around the same time as he stopped making excuses for why he’s supposed to. The two of you have settled awkwardly into the truth, which seems to be that if you’re both here, you’d rather spend time together than separately. It’s embarrassing for you to admit that the only new friend you’ve made here in the two years since you left the human world behind is one of the guests. It’s probably about as embarrassing for you as it would be for Shigaraki to admit that the person he’s come the closest to feeding from here is you, and he didn’t even draw blood.

“You know, I really thought we were past this,” Shigaraki says. You look up at him. “It’s not a trick question. Do you think about getting out of here or not?”

“You asked if I thought about leaving, and I said I don’t like to think about things that won’t happen. That implies that I have thought about it, and come to the conclusion that it’s not possible.” You go back to scrubbing. “What are you really asking?”

“Why you think you can’t leave.”

“I can’t blend in anymore,” you say. You raise one hand and tap your ear. Shigaraki’s eyes track the motion. “Most half-humans can pass as human at least some of the time, but I can’t. If it’s not my ears that catch someone’s attention, it’s my eyes. If it’s not my eyes, it’s my skin. There are enough things about me now that are just – off. And the human world might not be like it was in the freak-show days, but it’s still not a good place for people like me.”

“If I’m following your logic, I shouldn’t leave my lair, either. Since I can’t hide being a half-vampire.”

“You can, though,” you say. “I didn’t guess until you smiled.”

For Shigaraki, the price of walking freely in the human world would be never smiling where anyone could see it. That doesn’t seem right. Based on Shigaraki’s expression, your answers aren’t answers he likes. “So if you’re not leaving, what’s the plan? Cleaning up after guests forever? That is how long you live, right? Forever?”

“In theory.”

“You’re going to spend forever doing this.” Shigaraki’s voice is dark with scorn. “No way.”

“Why do you care if I stay here forever?” you ask, stung.

“Because it’s a shitty way to spend forever.”

“And being a vampire isn’t?”

You say it without thinking, and you regret it the instant it comes out of your mouth. Shigaraki looks like you’ve slapped him. His next words come out through clenched teeth. “Why do you think I’ve been putting it off?”

“You can put it off?” you say blankly. “How?”

Shigaraki takes another swig of champagne. You don’t know how much is left in the bottle, but if he’s planning to finish it, you’ve got a problem on your hands. “I have to kill someone,” he says. “To become a full vampire. Pick a victim, drain them completely from life to death, and that’s it. Immortality, special powers –”

Derision drips from his words. “All for the low, low price of never seeing the sun again and dying if I go too long without drinking blood. Who wouldn’t want to be a vampire?”

You know Overhaul has surveillance in each guest area. You don’t know if Shigaraki’s master is watching, or if Overhaul would tell him. “Shigaraki –”

“Except if I don’t become a full vampire,” Shigaraki continues, talking over you, “then I’m mortal. Weak. I’m useless to my master, and he’s already getting impatient.”

He drains the rest of the champagne bottle, then lowers it. It slips from his hand and shatters on the floor, and he startles, looking down at the shards of glass and then up at you, the slightest guilt on his face. “Sorry.”

You give up on the stain and hurry over, shooing him back from the broken glass. He tries to help you anyway, and you warn him off again, more firmly this time. “Stay back. I’ll do it.”

Shigaraki stays back from the glass, but stays close to you. “You don’t know what it’s like,” he says. “He wants me to do it. He says he’s patient, but he’s getting tired of waiting. I was supposed to do it here.”

“At Asylum?” You stop what you’re doing to look at him. “When?”

“The first time we were here,” Shigaraki says, and something lurches in your chest. “Your boss said I could have anyone in a maid’s uniform –”

And Chrono made sure you were in the bar, not wearing one. You didn’t know Overhaul had said that. Shigaraki is still talking. “And instead of killing a human servant I got drunk in the bar with you. We keep coming back, and I keep not doing it –”

“Because you’re hanging out with me,” you say. “Shigaraki, if this is getting you in trouble –”

“You didn’t ask me.”

“Hmm?”

“If I thought about leaving,” Shigaraki says. You keep looking at him, but he’s not looking at you – and he’s scratching again. “You’re supposed to ask if I’ve thought about leaving, so I can tell you –”

You catch the glint of a scrying mirror out of the corner of your eye and slap your hand over Shigaraki’s mouth. “Stop talking.”

Shigaraki’s mouth moves against your palm, setting off a weird buzz. “How come you’re always trying to shut me up?’

“Because I might not be the only one listening.” You leave your hand there for longer than you should. You know it’s longer than you should, because you wait long enough for the hair on your arms to stand up. “Be careful what you say in here. The walls have eyes and ears – and mouths, if you’re in the wrong room.”

“How come you haven’t taken me to see that?”

“I only get sent to clean up there if Chrono’s mad at me.”

Chrono’s been mad at you a lot recently. Everyone you work with thinks that’s why you’re avoiding him, but it isn’t – he’s mad because you’re avoiding him, and you’re avoiding him because you don’t want it to come down to sleeping with him or keeping your job. Like you told Shigaraki, you don’t have anywhere else to go. You know you can’t avoid him forever, just like you can’t stay here forever. But you’re immortal. You’ve got time to put things off.

Shigaraki doesn’t. Shigaraki’s mortal, still – and right now he’s inordinately trashed on champagne, again. You finish cleaning up the glass, decide that the pool deck’s as clean as it’s going to get, and turn to Shigaraki. “Come on. We need to find somewhere for you to sober up.”

“Can’t you use a glamour on me?”

“It’ll stick better if you sober up first,” you say. “It only holds as long as you don’t do anything to break it.”

He’s not making any effort to get off the floor. You hold out your hands and he takes them, swaying on his feet once he’s upright, blinking like his vision’s gone blurry. That’s – not good. You have a spot in mind to stash him while he dries out, but you might have a hard time getting him there. “Can you walk?”

“What if I can’t? Will you carry me?”

“We’ll definitely get caught.” You palm your master rune and glance around at the bathhouse. Asylum’s guest rooms don’t usually come with shortcuts, but you’ve gotten lucky sometimes with bathhouse rooms. “There might be another way out of here. Hang on.”

No passageways on the floor, in the walls, or on the ceiling. You go so far as to check underneath the bench Shigaraki was sprawled out on. There’s nothing there, but as you’re straightening up, you catch a glimpse of something at the bottom of the bath, flickering through the water. You straighten up, cross to the bath, and wade down the steps into the water. Shigaraki watches. “What are you doing?”

You don’t answer until you’ve ducked beneath the surface and confirmed your hunch. “We can sneak out through here. There’s a passage down there and I’m pretty sure I can make it open out somewhere else.”

Shigaraki doesn’t look happy. You can’t tell if that’s nausea or the idea of going in the water. “Wait, can half-vampires cross running water?”

“This isn’t running water.” Shigaraki levers himself upright, only to slump back again. “I can’t swim.”

“You won’t have to swim,” you promise. You beckon Shigaraki forward. “Let’s go. We don’t want to be here when the next guests come through.”

Shigaraki’s hesitant on his way down the steps and into the bath. He’s tall enough to stand if he keeps his chin tipped upwards, but you’re treading water, and your uniform is heavy when it’s wet. You dive beneath the surface and tap your master rune against the tiles at the bottom of the bath, and the passageway opens, sucking you and Shigaraki down into it without warning.

It’s a short trip, and the two of you splash down in a chamber lit not by gas lanterns, but by bioluminescent lichen and mushrooms growing on the walls. The pool you’ve landed in is warm, and shallow enough that both of you can stand. You head for the edge of the pool, and so does Shigaraki. “Where are we?”

“In the foundations, I think.” You find a rock to sit on, and Shigaraki sits down next to you on it. “When Overhaul built this place, he had to build the features that would fuel things like the hot springs. After he cast the spells to keep them from fluctuating, he got rid of most of the foundations – but I guess not all of them. I had no idea this was here until today.”

“I thought you knew everything about this place.”

“Not quite,” you say. “More than Overhaul, though. I’ll probably know all its secrets by the time I’ve been here forever.”

You don’t mean it to come out the way it sounds – bitter, frustrated, angry. Even though you and Shigaraki are as close as you can get to being friends given who you are, he’s still a guest, and you’re still a maid. Silence falls between the two of you, and you’re searching for a way to walk it back when Shigaraki speaks up again. “What if you didn’t have to?”

“What?”

“What if you didn’t have to stay here forever?” Shigaraki’s red eyes, strangely illuminated in the light of the glowing plants, are intent on your face. “What if you could leave? Would you?”

“I can’t leave, so it doesn’t matter.” You were hoping not to come back to this argument. “Can you drop it?”

“If you could,” Shigaraki presses. “If you could, would you leave?”

“And go where?”

“Anywhere,” Shigaraki says, like everything you said while the two of you were still in the bathhouse suite never happened – “With me.”

You stare at him. For a second you’re stunned into silence, but then you remember. “You’re drunk.”

“Yeah. I was too chicken to say it sober.” Shigaraki’s face is flushing, deeper than alcohol alone could cause. “You don’t have to spend the rest of your life like this. You can come with me and do something that matters.”

“Like what?” You brought him down here to sober up, but now he seems drunker than before. “Shigaraki, stop it. This isn’t how it works.”

“Says who?” Shigaraki’s hands grasp your shoulders, and you freeze. “Your boss? My master? They don’t get to make the rules. We do.”

You’ve had seven full moons to observe Shigaraki, and you’ve never seen him get this intense about anything. He’s practically vibrating, and while you can’t call the light in his eyes madness, it’s too close for comfort. “The world doesn’t care about us. So we should change it. Don’t you think?”

If you knew what to say, you’d say it. You look helplessly at him, and he leans closer, lowers his voice. “There are more of us than there are of them,” he says. Us? He must mean half-breeds, and he’s probably right, but why is he talking about it like it means something? “They can’t stop us all.”

He’s close enough that you can smell the champagne on his breath, the dry scent of his skin and the ever-so-slightly softer scent of whatever he uses to wash his hair. Not blood. You’ve never smelled blood on him. “So? What do you think?”

“Ask me when you’re sober,” you say. “Then I’ll know you mean it.”

You’re hoping he forgets. You think there’s a decent chance he will, and then you’ll be off the hook, because you don’t want to think about what he’s asking any more than you have to. Sure, he’s right. Sure, every inhuman species except the werewolves treats their half-human children like trash. And sure, there are more half-humans than there are true inhumans, but the number of true humans in the world dwarfs you all. It would be nice if some things could change. But you don’t think that one half-vampire and one half-fey can do anything about it.

You can’t do anything about it. But maybe you could leave.

You shove the thought away, hard. Your heart is racing. Shigaraki smiles at you, unworried, almost carefree. “If I mean it? I do.” One of the hands on your shoulder shifts, tracing the edge where the human skin of your shoulder meets the fey skin of your arm through your uniform. “But I can wait.”

His touch is ridiculously light, but it draws all your attention. You remember him asking about the other patches of fey skin on your body, about whether he could see them, and your mind floods with the thought of how that same light touch would feel around the edges of the other seams. You order yourself to pull it together, but not before your face flushes, and not before Shigaraki notices. He looks up from your shoulder. “What?”

Before you can answer, or more likely, dodge the question, there’s a tiny splash, followed by a sharp whistle through the air. You and Shigaraki lurch apart, just in time to miss one of Overhaul’s messages. It’s for you. You peel it open with a shakier hand than usual. Bring the half-vampire Shigaraki Tomura to Room 237 at once.

“What is it?” Shigaraki asks. “Are you in trouble?”

Someone is. You don’t think it’s you. “You’re being summoned,” you say. “Let’s go.”

The message said “at once”, but you detour to change into a dry uniform before you bring Shigaraki to Room 237. If he’s soaked, that’s one thing, but it can’t look as though you were involved at the same time. Room 237 is in use, but the door is ever so slightly ajar, and when you raise one hand to knock, it swings the rest of the way open. Chrono’s standing there. Past him, you can see an unconscious figure sprawled on the bed, chest rising and falling rapidly. And past even that, in the far corners of the room, is something – else.

“Come in,” Chrono invites, and Shigaraki steps forward. You couldn’t glamour away his wet clothes, but you at least concealed the fact that he’s drunk. That’s all you can do. You turn to go, and Chrono catches your arm. “You, too. Come inside.”

You hit the brakes, or try to. Chrono’s surprised you. He pulls you in, shutting the door and throwing the room into deeper shadow. The hairs on your arms and the back of your neck are rising. You don’t want to be here. You want to run. You need to run, but Chrono won’t let go of your arm, no matter how much you pull – and now the thing in the corner is speaking, its voice deep and cold. “Tomura,” it says, and Shigaraki’s spine goes rigid. “It seems my meal was too much for me. Be so kind as to finish it.”

You feel like you’re going to be sick. Chrono tightens his grip on your arm to the point of pain. “Make Overhaul heal her,” Shigaraki says. “Then you can finish another time.”

“I’m afraid that won’t do. Too much of her soul already belongs to me,” Shigaraki’s master says. The feeling of sickness wells up stronger than before. “I know you’ve been abstaining, and I certainly admire your commitment to taste, but you are unwell. Human food can only do so much. You need blood to sustain you, and this – I’m certain you’ll quite enjoy it.”

An enormous hand emerges from the shadows. One sharp finger presses against the unconscious woman’s neck and blood spurts out. Shigaraki’s body jerks. You see his hands curl into fists at his sides. “Hurry now,” his master says. “This was quite expensive. Don’t let it go to waste.”

Shigaraki steps forward. His knees hit the side of the bed, and he crawls onto it, his body obscuring the victim’s almost completely. You don’t see his teeth sink into her neck, but you know it’s happened by the way their bodies seize as one, his falling forward against her, her head falling back as her back arches to meet him without ever regaining consciousness. You’ve seen your share of unspeakable things at Asylum, and the only thought in your mind as you watch the victim writhe beneath Shigaraki in her death throes should be horror. It should be horror, but it isn’t. It’s – jealousy.

Not for what’s happening to her. You’d wish that on no one, not even your worst enemy, but jealousy for everything else; for the way he’s pressed against her, the way they seem to move in unison, the hideous intimacy of it all. Death and sex go hand in hand so often in this place, and yet they’ve never been so closely intertwined. The victim’s hand jerks weakly upwards in a last grasp for help, and Shigaraki catches it, holds it down, without pulling away from her throat. The sick, shameful, guilt-ridden fury that rises up within you gives you the strength to pull your arm free of Chrono’s grip at last.

He reaches for you, but you’re faster than he is, and you know Asylum well enough to evade him, slipping into a secret passage just behind the door. From there it’s sidestep after sidestep, taking you high into the upper reaches of the brothel, as far away from Room 237 as possible. No one can chase you here. Even if they knew where you were, you could get away long before they reached you. You could stay in Asylum forever, if you wanted, and no one would ever lay eyes on you again.

But no matter how far you run, some part of you will still be trapped in Room 237, still watching Shigaraki drain the last few drops of blood from a victim who was already gone, still seething with jealousy. No matter how you try to shake the thought off, it clings to you. Shigaraki will drink from thousands over the course of his life as a vampire. Scenes like the one you saw tonight will play out thousands of times, that twisted intimacy unfolding over and over again. More intimacy of any kind than you’ll ever have with him.

You hadn’t realized you wanted it so badly. You hadn’t realized you wanted it at all, but now you do – and now it’s too late.

You shirk your duties until the full moon dips below Asylum’s false horizon, and once you’re certain Shigaraki and his master are gone, you come back to face whatever punishment Overhaul sees fit to levy. But Overhaul doesn’t seem to know. He commends you flatly for keeping Shigaraki out of any expensive varieties of trouble and goes back to tallying the night’s earnings, leaving Chrono responsible for dealing with you.

“Instructive, wasn’t that?” Chrono says to you, almost smugly. “The sight of a vampire feeding often provokes intense emotions. Perhaps we should sell tickets.”

You clench your jaw, but the question escapes anyway. “Why did you make me watch?”

“I know you’ve grown fond of the master vampire’s brat,” Chrono says. “Experience has given me certain advantages to share with you, such as the knowledge that nothing will ever matter more to a vampire than its pursuit of blood. Did you think Shigaraki Tomura cared for you? He will always care for his meals more.”

Of course he will. Why wouldn’t he? There’s nothing you could offer that would compare to that. “Does the knowledge wound you?” Chrono inquires. “You need not answer. I can see it.”

“Then why ask?” Your voice is dull.

“If it wounds you deeply, I apologize,” Chrono says. “Perhaps you’ll allow me to comfort you.”

You hear what he’s actually offering, and some part of you that still has the capacity for anger and betrayal is furious with him. Some part of you feels more hatred for him than for anyone in your entire life – for destroying the only friendship you had in order to corner you into giving in to him. That piece of you rebels. The rest of you is too numb and hurt to care. Maybe this will fix you, comfort you, distract you. You’ll feel something different, if nothing else.

Just as he knew he’d struck true before, Chrono knows he’s won. He holds out his hand to you, and you take it, giving in your fate at last.

Omg yes !😂

Gives me Shigaraki vibes