Enough To Go By (Chapter 2) -- A Shigaraki X F!Reader Fic
Enough to Go By (Chapter 2) -- a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic
Your best friend vanished on the same night his family was murdered, and even though the world forgot about him, you never did. When a chance encounter brings you back into contact with Shimura Tenko, you'll do anything to make sure you don't lose him again. Keep his secrets? Sure. Aid the League of Villains? Of course. Sacrifice everything? You would - but as the battle between the League of Villains and hero society unfolds, it becomes clear that everything is far more than you or anyone else imagined it would be. (cross-posted to Ao3)
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
When the ER doctors ask you how you got hurt, you lie. You know you shouldn’t lie, know that Tenko’s dangerous, know that his quirk, whatever it is, is deadly on contact. Some part of you thinks you should be scared of the possibility that Tenko will come back to finish the job. But at the same time, you know you’re the one who chased him. You’re the one who wouldn’t let him go. If you hadn’t run after him, none of this would have happened.
This, it turns out, is a wrist that requires a specialized healing quirk to fix, and a bruised larynx that makes you sound like you’ve been deepthroating a lead pipe. “Whoever you’re protecting, you shouldn’t,” an old, sort of grizzled nurse says severely after the fifth time you’ve repeated your lie. “Another few pounds of pressure on your throat and you’d be dead.”
Tenko was fine with killing you, at least at first. You’re not sure what changed his mind, or why he let you go, and in spite of the fact that he gave you injuries severe enough for an overnight in the ER, you can’t help wondering what happened to him. The friend you knew was nothing like that. He got frustrated sometimes, like everyone else, but he was kind. And hurting people? He wouldn’t. His older sister did more playground fighting than he did. In fact, when you think about it – you close your eyes against the fluorescent lights in your hospital room and try to fend off the memory. You can’t quite do it, because it’s crystal clear. Tenko spent more time getting hurt than doing the hurting.
If Tenko and Hana got out the door first on school days, they’d wait outside your house on the sidewalk for you to come out, so you could all walk to school together. If you were ready first, you’d wait for them. One morning you were waiting, tapping your feet, fiddling with your umbrella because the weather looked like rain even if the forecast didn’t say so, when you heard voices. One raised grown-up voice and one small anxious one, from inside the house.
You didn’t want to eavesdrop, but you didn’t know how not to. Hana had a cold, so she was staying home. Tenko had wanted to say goodbye to her before he left, but their dad said no, and when Tenko stuck his head in the door anyway, his dad yelled. And was still yelling, over whatever Tenko was trying to say, until Tenko stumbled out onto the sidewalk, without a raincoat or an umbrella and scratching the skin around his eyes.
Or wiping his eyes, maybe. He started scrubbing at them frantically when he saw you. “Don’t look –”
You turned around, and as you did, you felt the first drops of rain. “Are you okay?”
“Hana’s sick.” Tenko sniffled. “I went in her room when I wasn’t supposed to.”
I heard, you almost said. But you didn’t. You just asked again. “Are you okay?”
“We have to walk or we’ll be late.” Tenko started walking, past you, and you followed him. The rain was falling harder, spattering Tenko’s shirt and his backpack. “It wasn’t supposed to rain.”
“Here.” You put up your umbrella and hurried to catch him, holding it over both your heads. You didn’t have a choice but to look at him now, and you saw how puffy his eyes were. “I bet Hana was happy.”
Tenko nodded. He wiped his nose on the back of his hand and sniffled again, and when his hand fell back to his side, it brushed against yours. Tenko cringed. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” you said. You linked your pinky finger with his. “I swear.”
Tenko’s finger hooked tighter around yours. “Only since you swore.”
He had a cold the next day, and so did you. You cried until your mom went over to his house to apologize for you getting Tenko and Hana sick. So this isn’t the first time you’ve lied to protect Tenko. It might just be the first time you’re getting away with it.
You’re out of the ER at eight in the morning, and by nine-thirty you’re at work. You’re a medical assistant in a network of urgent care clinics that serve low-income people, uninsured people, or people who don’t want to risk going to a standard hospital. Your friends call your workplace Villains, Inc., and you’re not going to say you haven’t met your share – but you also meet a lot of people, and you think it’s good for you. Sometimes it feels like there are two Japans, sharing space in the same territory. One full of pretty, shiny heroes and happy, law-abiding civilians and uncomplicatedly evil villains, where everybody has a quirk and everybody’s always doing their best. And then there’s the other Japan, populated by everybody who doesn’t belong in the first one.
They say one in five people are quirkless, but you see at least fifty people a day at work, and the number of quirkless people on your side of Japan is a lot higher. Quirkless children have the school system to nominally protect them, but there’s no such system for quirkless adults. A lot of them are pushed to the margins, losing jobs to those with quirks, even if their quirk is useless for the jobs in question. Even when quirkless people can get work, it’s at a lower level than a quirked person could get. Your applications to nursing school were rejected, even though your grades matched the standard. You’re lucky that you’d already found an apprenticeship, in a workplace willing to sponsor your education and train you on the job.
You’ve been working here for two years, part-time as an apprentice and CNA in high school and full-time since you graduated. You’re a medical assistant now, which means you can do a whole bunch of things – take history, check vitals, draw blood, give vaccines. You have a specific exam room you work out of, and the newest workers, the ones still in high school, bring patients from the waiting room to you. From there, you figure out where to route them. To an exam room with a nurse or a physician, to the lab for blood tests, to Imaging, to the ER if their injuries or illness are too severe to be treated here. You’ve only had to route somebody to the morgue once.
You’ve just delivered your most recent patient to an exam room with a doctor, and you’re in the process of documenting it in the chart when a message pops up from one of your coworkers at the front desk. FOF. Can you handle it?
FOF – freak out front. You don’t love that acronym. How F are we talking?
Creepy-looking + mean. The new kid messed up, but not that bad.
You’re not in the mood for difficult patients today. Your throat is sore and your wrist is itching and the turtleneck you’re wearing to cover the bruises on your neck is a little too tight. But you’re the most senior medical assistant working today, and even if you weren’t, dealing with difficult people is sort of your specialty. You did a great job last night right up until you decided to chase after Tenko.
Nobody’s perfect, and you learned your lesson, didn’t you? You sigh, wincing at how it feels, and respond. Send them over.
You go back to your chart, trying desperately to finish it before the new patient arrives, and you’re just about to send it to your supervisor when the CNA knocks on the door. “Come in!”
The door opens and the patient steps through, shutting it behind them. “Just a second,” you say, deciding you’re going to finish your documentation if it kills you. “You can have a seat and I’ll be with you as soon as I just –”
“Your voice sounds weird.”
You almost choke on your own spit. You look up from your computer and find Tenko staring at you from across the exam room.
Between the fluorescent lights of the convenience stores and the shadowy darkness of the street, your encounter with Tenko last night had the sense of a fever dream or an acid trip – shiny around the edges, not quite real. Seeing him in broad daylight in your dingy exam room is unnerving beyond words. He looks even more like your best friend than he did before, but there are more differences, too – a scar over Tenko’s mouth, another scar over his right eye. Whatever skin condition he had around his eyes as a child, it’s gotten worse, so much worse that it’s obliterated his eyebrows and spread to his forehead. He’s wearing a black hoodie, maybe the same hoodie he was wearing last night. And he’s staring at you.
You thought there was no way he’d come back to finish the job. You thought you were safe. You thought wrong. Your voice comes out in an airless whisper, like you’re still sprawled on the concrete with his arm across your throat. “What are you doing here?”
“It says outside you have to treat everybody. Is that true?” Tenko’s voice is abrupt, bordering on rude, and he doesn’t wait for an answer. “Your voice sounds weird. And that shirt is stupid. You wouldn’t sound so weird if the collar wasn’t –”
He’s reaching towards you, and you’re frozen, even as your mind screams at you to get out of the way. Tenko’s index finger hooks into the collar of your turtleneck and pulls it down. His eyes narrow at first, turning his expression sharp and mean. Then they widen once more, past where they were before, until he looks more like the Tenko you knew than you’ve seen yet. “Who did that?”
You don’t remember your best friend being this stupid. “Who do you think?”
“I didn’t do that,” Tenko says, but his eyes dart to one side, the way they used to do when he knew he was wrong. A second later he changes his tune. “You made me do it. If you hadn’t chased me –”
You shouldn’t have chased him, but he didn’t have to choke you and burn the skin off your wrist. You look Tenko over and change the subject. You don’t want to argue. You don’t want him to get mad. “Aren’t you missing something?”
He gives you a puzzled look, and you mime a hand covering your face. “Father,” Tenko says. He calls it Father? That’s – weird. “He’s here.”
He unhooks his finger from your collar, reaches into his hoodie pocket, extracts the hand, and secures it over his face. It should look ridiculous, but instead it’s terrifying. “I can’t wear him in daylight. Master says he’s too recognizable yet.”
None of those words make any sense, and you’ve lost your ability to speak. “It says you treat everybody here. You have to. Right?” Tenko asks. You nod wordlessly. “So treat me.”
“Um –” You get the syllable out of your mouth, watching Tenko’s shoulders stiffen at the sound of your voice. “Do you have your intake form? They would have given it to you when you checked in.”
Tenko’s mouth twists. “The brat at the front desk didn’t give me anything. She said she could fill it in herself, since she knew I was here for dermatology.”
You think back to your coworker’s message. You’d say the new kid messed up pretty bad. “I’m sorry. She shouldn’t have made that assumption.”
“You did too. Didn’t you? I bet you thought I came in here for help with my disgusting skin.”
“No,” you say. “I think you’re probably coming in for your wrist.”
It’s the only thing that makes sense to you, short of him tracking you down to finish the job, and when he’s reached for you or taken the hand out of his pocket, he’s used his left hand. If your memory’s correct, Tenko’s right-handed. “It looked like you hurt it when you fell,” you continue. Tenko stares at you. “Are there any other issues you’d like us to investigate while you’re here?”
Tenko shakes his head. Okay. Nineteen-year-old male, here for suspected injury to wrist. What’s next in your exam workflow? A process you run through at least a hundred times per week has exited your mind completely. You glance around the room uselessly and your eyes land on your blood pressure cuff. “Okay. I’m going to take your vitals.”
“Why do you need those?” Tenko looks suspicious. “Stay away from me.”
“I need your blood pressure, your pulse rate, and your pulse oxygen level. None of those are invasive tests.” Not usually, anyway – given how Tenko reacted the last time you came anywhere close to touching him, you’re pretty sure that pushing the point here could get you killed. “Or just the pulse oxygen. That goes on your finger.”
You take it out, only to remember about Tenko’s quirk. Tenko notices your hesitation. He sneers behind the hand. “Don’t worry. It only works with all five fingers.”
Good to know. You clip the pulse oxygen monitor onto his middle finger and turn back to your computer. Even without looking at his wrist, an x-ray is standard protocol, and you need to get Tenko into the queue right away. The less time he spends here, the less danger everybody else is in. It might be too late for you already.
“What do you think?” Tenko asks. You look at him. “The quirk.”
“You’ve got one.” You’re not really sure what else to say.
“And you don’t. Still?” Tenko raises his eyebrows. You nod. “And you still don’t care.”
“No,” you say. “I never cared about not having one. Only about how people treat me.”
“I bet they treat you like shit,” Tenko says. He sounds gleeful, but his expression doesn’t match his tone of voice. It’s weird. “If I ask you why you’re here instead of some fancy clinic on the nice side of town, you’ll probably lie and say you love it here. But you’re here because nowhere else will take somebody who doesn’t have a quirk. Isn’t that right?”
“I do like it here.” You aren’t lying. The pulse ox monitor beeps and you take it back from Tenko, recording the reading on your computer. “And I’m here because nowhere else will take me. Let me see your wrist.”
Tenko’s had his other hand in the front pocket of his hoodie this whole time. He draws it out slowly and extends it towards you. You’re not qualified to diagnose anything, but you can see that it’s bruised and swollen, and the skin is hot when you touch it. Tenko hisses as your fingers make contact. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to see if there’s an obvious break.” You shouldn’t – he’ll be headed to Imaging no matter what – but you don’t want anyone else to come into contact with Tenko unless they have to. Tenko’s wrist is swollen to the point that you can barely feel anything beneath it. “Were you resting this last night? Or using it?”
“I had games to play.”
Tenko’s a gamer now. Huh. “That’s probably why it’s so sore. And so swollen. No more gaming with that hand until it heals.”
“You’re not a doctor. Don’t tell me what to do.”
“The doctor’s going to say the same thing.” You glance away at your screen, checking your position in the Imaging queue. There’s a chest x-ray ahead of you, with a sick kid, and those always take a while. “I’m going to get you some ice for this. It’ll help with the x-rays if the swelling goes down. Stay here.”
“No.” Tenko gets to his feet, pulling his wrist out of your grip, grimacing as the motion jars the injury. “You think I don’t know what you’ll do? You’re just dying to go to the cops.”
“I had a chance to go to the cops. Last night, when I went to the hospital for this.” You gesture at your throat, and Tenko’s expression twists behind the hand. “I didn’t go then. Why would I go now?”
Tenko stares at you. You hold his gaze. You’ve never lost a staring contest in your life, and you’re not planning to start today – and after a long moment, Tenko averts his eyes. “You can go,” he says shortly. “But I won’t use it unless you get some for your neck.”
Does he feel guilty? Is that why he’s saying that? You decide not to think about it too hard. He’s your patient right now. If this is what it’ll take for him to ice his injury, you’ll happily slap a bag of ice on your throat.
But once you’ve brought the ice back, and you’re holding yours to your throat while Tenko applies his gingerly to his wrist, you’re out of other things to do. It’s just you and your best friend, who tried to kill you last night, sitting in a room together. Tenko still has the hand over his face. Your wrist is still itching. Before last night, when you still had the luxury of imagining what it would be like to meet Tenko again after all this time, you didn’t imagine it would be like this. It makes you sad.
You’re expecting silence until Tenko gets called back to Imaging, but to your surprise, Tenko speaks up. “Your parents had three more kids,” he says. You nod. “Why?”
“To be fair to them, they thought they were only having one.” You don’t like being fair to them about this, given what happened afterwards, even if there’s no way they could have known. “It was triplets, and they were pretty sick. They got the same kind of quirk as the rest of the family, so they made us all feel how they felt. Which was – bad.”
Tenko doesn’t say anything. You shouldn’t be talking about your family, not when his family is dead. Does he even know what happened to his family? You’re not going to ask. “Sorry.”
“Did you have to take care of them?”
“What?”
“The stupid triplets. Did you have to take care of them, too?” Tenko glares from behind the hand. “I remember you always had to before. You never stayed as long as you wanted to.”
“Oh,” you say, startled. “No, um – I had to get home. I wanted to.”
“My birthday party. Your mom came to get you early and you said you weren’t crying but you were.” Tenko is still glaring at you, and you find yourself shrinking back in your chair. “I remember. Don’t lie.”
“You didn’t remember last night,” you say, but he must have remembered something, or he wouldn’t have spoken up when you mentioned how many siblings you have. “Tenko, what –”
“That’s not my name. Anymore.” Tenko scratches at his neck lefthanded. “Master gave me a new one. Tomura.”
“Tomura,” you repeat. “Is that what I should call you?”
Tenko – Tomura? – keeps scratching, clawing up red scrapes in his skin. Then his hand falls back down. “Tenko. You should call me Tenko.” He averts his eyes from yours again. “You knew me before.”
Before what? You can’t decide whether to ask, and Tenko makes the decision for you. “I knew you before, too. When you were a kid whose parents wouldn’t let her stay long enough at a birthday party for a fucking piece of cake.”
“You brought me some. The next day.” Your voice is small. “I remember that. It was the nicest thing anybody ever did for me.”
Tenko’s shoulders stiffen. “That’s pathetic.”
“It was the nicest thing back then,” you say. “Nicer stuff has happened since then.”
Has it? It probably has, but right now your mind is full, all your memories of Tenko flooding to the forefront. There aren’t many. Not nearly enough. Three years at most – your memory is good enough to pick up some things from when you were a toddler, and you and Tenko met when you were barely old enough to speak full sentences. But you talked. You always talked. You talked to each other about everything. Right now it feels like there’s nothing in the world you could say to each other, and it breaks your heart.
Your computer pings, snapping you out of it and giving you something else to fixate on. “They’re ready for us in Imaging. I’ll walk you.”
“What, you think I can’t walk by myself?”
“I want to keep an eye on you,” you say, and Tenko scoffs. “Come on.”
He takes the hand down off his face and tucks it away again before exiting the exam room. He pulls his hood up, too, shuffling along at your side too close to be a shadow. You pass more than a few of your coworkers, all of whom give you pitying looks. They feel bad for you, but they don’t know enough to feel bad for the right reason. It makes you angry, just like it made you angry to hear Tenko’s father shout at him, a useless anger that felt too large for your tiny body. You couldn’t protect him then, and he wouldn’t let you do it now, but the urge is there, as insane as it might be. He almost killed you last night. And here you are wanting to save him.
The x-rays go quickly. A few different angles, and then you and Tenko stand there while the doctor on shift interprets them. “No fracture,” he reports. “Just a bad sprain. We’ll send you home with a brace to wear. Just take it easy for a few days.”
Tenko jerks his chin downwards. It would be charitable to call it a nod. The doctor makes a quick note in his chart and turns away, trusting you to dig up a brace and conclude the visit. Tenko won’t ask, so you will. “What about for pain?”
The doctor turns, raises an eyebrow. “The patient didn’t ask.”
“The patient wouldn’t have come in if it didn’t hurt.” You’re insane. You must be, to help someone who hurt you, except you’re not thinking of last night, you’re thinking of today – of your best friend, who’s not your friend anymore, but remembers you enough to be angry on your behalf. Who brought you a slice of birthday cake the next day because you couldn’t stay long enough to have one. “What would you recommend?”
“Ice it at least three times a day, and double up on NSAIDs,” the doctor says finally. “The OTC brands will be fine. If you rest it properly it should be healed by next week. Is there anything else?”
You glance at Tenko. Tenko shakes his head. “Feel better soon,” the doctor says. “Come back for a follow-up if anything worsens.”
Tenko trails after you as you retrieve a brace from the supply cabinet. “What the hell were all those acronyms?”
“NSAIDs – nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory drugs,” you explain. “Things like ibuprofen and acetaminophen. OTC means over the counter – things you can buy without a prescription. Any convenience store should have them.”
You find a brace in the correct size and turn to find Tenko already holding out his arm. It surprises you, to the extent that you freeze for a moment, but then you snap out of it and secure the brace around his wrist. It’s simple to avoid his quirk, now that you think about it. All you have to do is make sure all five fingers don’t touch you at once.
Tenko grimaces as you fasten the last of the Velcro straps on the brace. “It’s tight.”
“It needs to be tight to support your wrist,” you say. “If it hurts, loosen it a little bit, but not so much that it slides. Do you have questions about anything else?”
Tenko shakes his head. “He didn’t say I couldn’t play games.”
“He said you had to rest your wrist,” you say. “You can play point-and-clicks. With your other hand.”
Tenko snorts. “I’m not playing point-and-clicks.”
“Better than nothing.” They’re the only type of video game you’re good at. Sometimes you and your friends make a drinking game out of them, doing a shot every time you find a clue or solve a puzzle. “If there’s nothing else, I can go ahead and walk you out.”
It’s quiet for a second. Tenko is looking at you, and you look back, unsure of what else to do. Part of you wants him gone as fast as possible, but it’s a smaller part of you than it should be. The rest of you wants your best friend, who remembers the things you don’t talk about, who saw you through the smile you knew to paste on even at five years old. You want to find out what happened to him. You want to know where he’s been. You want to know if he knew you were here, if that’s why he came to this clinic instead of any of the others. You want to know if it’s going to be another fifteen years before you see him again.
For a moment you think Tenko will say something, will come up with something else to stretch this out. Instead he glances left, then right. “Which way do I go to get out of here?”
“I’ll walk you out,” you say again. You lead him down the hall to the door that opens onto the street, fighting the lump in your throat. There’s a spiel you’re supposed to give to patients as they leave, but you can’t get it out of your mouth.
Tenko stands there a moment, then pushes the door open lefthanded, and something inside you snaps loose. You catch his sleeve and he turns to stare at you, a sneer already beginning to twist his features. You’ve got maybe three seconds before he hurts you again, and you have to use them wisely. “I won’t ask about the rest of it. I’m not going to follow you again,” you say. “I know we won’t see each other after this. I just need to know. Are you okay, wherever you are?”
You’re expecting him to mock you, but instead the sneer falls from his face. He looks like himself again, the part of him you knew best. He doesn’t ask why you care, and you realize it’s because he knows. He knew last night when he let you go instead of killing you. You’re his best friend. Of course you care.
“Yeah. I –” Tenko coughs, clears his throat. His voice is back to its usual rasp when he speaks. “I’m okay.”
You know he’s lying. You think he might know that you know, too. But he pulls his arm away slightly, not yanking it from your grip but making it clear that he wants to leave, and you let him go.
The door swings shut behind him, and you turn and head back to your exam room, working on documenting his visit in the chart until your eyes go blurry. You didn’t sleep at all last night. You won’t sleep well tonight, either. You know already that you’ll be up late into the night, retracing every second in your head, trying to figure out what went wrong. Trying to guess what happened. Wondering, like you always wonder about Tenko – if he’s alive, if he’s all right.
You have answers to the first two questions now. Other than that, the things that keep you up tonight will be the same as they’ve been since you were six years old. Other than the scar around your wrist and the bruises around your throat, nothing’s changed at all.
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Birthday Treat (Tomura Shigaraki x CamGirl!Reader)
Words: 3.6k
Minors DNI
Tw: sex work, toys/interactive machine, "senpai", one mention of Shigaraki wanting to be called niichan, anal (plug, gaping, mastrubation), belly bulge, reader has pierced nips, soft degradation, multiple orgasms (both), mastrubating, delusional, softness too, squirting
Teaser: "I want to see," he says, his heart is pounding in his chest. He does not even blink, not wanting to miss a second of you. You are a goddess to him. So nice and so pretty and he is at your feet.
Note: It's my angel's birthday! (In an hour) You can send me Shiggy thirsts and headcanons and requests for my man's day 💜
Tomura is nervous.
It is his birthday and he splurged a little. Well, Toga said birthdays are there to treat yourself to something and he did exactly that. It wasn't cheap but his birthday seems like a valid excuse after what Toga had said.
When he booked the private session with you his heart raced at you sending him a private message alone. He was sure he wouldn't survive actually talking to you. You are so damn sweet in your text, but he knew that before. He never misses your late night streams, it's the only way he falls asleep without taking meds... or drugs. You sent him a form he had to fill out before your session.
What do you want me to call you?
What outfit do you want me to wear? With options.
What toys do you want me to use?
It had a detailed instruction on how to establish the connection to your interactive toys and some general info about taking screenshots and payment. He didn't know at the time that by purchasing a private session he would get live long access to message you privately. He is still thrilled about that. Maybe he could get you to like him.
He took three hours to fill out the form (he had to make smart choices) and he jerked off right after, all the images it conjured in his brain making him rock hard.
He is half hard now already. And he is just nervous. He has written in the chat and interacted with you before but never talked to you.
The loading screen now beams with cute pink graphics. Then, you appear and Tomura holds his breath.
You are on the floor sitting criss-crossed on a fluffy blanket with cute fairy lights behind you and your stuffed animals. You are wearing the way too tight white crop top and way too skimpy pink thong he picked out. Your hard nipples and their piercings are well visible, your beautiful tits perked up in the tightness of the small fabric. Your makeup is simple but cute, your hair is held back by your kitten ear headset. The white thigh highs make Tamura's cock twitch. Your thighs. He needs to know what they feel like.
"Heyy," you say, smiling. "How are you doing, senpai?"
Tomura filled in for you to call him senpai. He knew if he made you call him niichan he would go insane. Maybe next birthday.
"Hi. I'm… okay," his voice betrays him.
"Don't be nervous. It's just me," you smile. "Let's talk a bit first to loosen you up, yeah? How was your day?"
"Uneventful. It's my birthday."
Your eyes widen for a second. "Uneventful and it's your birthday?! Tell me you at least had some cake?"
"No," he chuckles softly. "Just played some games."
"Well, I'm going to make sure that it is special then, senpai," you say sultry. "What do you want me to do first?"
"Can I see your tits, please?"
You smile. Your hands with the cute pink nail design come up the sides of your body as you move to kneel instead. You brush over your breasts, squeezing them together in the thin fabric. Tomura is nearly drooling.
You take the hem of the crop top and slowly pull it up. Your tits bounce free, jingling so beautifully. The crop top is sitting above your tits, a sense of obscenity in it that he likes. You are about to take the shirt off but he stops you.
"Leave it like this."
You nod, compliant as a puppy, and move closer to the camera. You present your beautiful tits to him, bounce on your knees so they do too.
"You're so beautiful,' Tomura breathes and his hand now finally moves to his cock.
"Thank you, senpai," you utter softly, squeezing your tits together for him and pinching your nipples.
"Are you wearing the plug I picked out?" His voice is timid.
"Of course, senpai. Wanna see?"
"I want to see," he says, his heart is pounding in his chest. He does not even blink, not wanting to miss a second of you. You are a goddess to him. So nice and so pretty and he is at your feet.
You turn around and your ass lifts up, your knees stay together at your chest, causing your core to peak out between your plush thighs. Your ass is just so sexy too. Tomura is no ass or tits or thighs guy, he is a you guy. Just you. You take a pillow and lay your head down on it. Tomura switches to the close up shot for a second, just needing to see your face a moment longer.
You push your panties aside revealing your cute cunt and the pink glass heart sitting above your puckered hole. You clench and it moves and Tomura nearly moans.
"Senpai?" You say breathy. "I was so happy about all the stuff you picked," you say genuinely.
"Yeah?"
"Hm," you hum. "You dressed me up so cute."
His body fills with warmth. "Pull your thong down but don't take it off."
You peel the pink fabric to sit at your knees then brush over your cunt.
"Did I allow you to do that?" He says breathlessly, eyes fixed on the close up shot to see your reaction. A deep blush creeps into your cheeks.
"I am sorry, senpai. Forgive me, please."
"I do," Tomura smiles. "Pull the plug out for me, baby."
You acknowledge his request with a soft moan and push yourself up, grabbing the bottle of lube. He could choose the consistency and naturally took the extra sticky one.
You squeeze some of it onto the plug then use one finger to swirl it around your stretched asshole.
"Your nails are so cute this time." He knows you got them done just yesterday. He never misses when you post on Instagram.
"Thank you!" You smile and your breath hitches as you pull at the pink heart. You spread your legs further, the thong stretching around your thighs as you do.
Tomura watches with hungry eyes how you move the plug in a circled motion then slowly pull at it. It looks like your little ass does not want to let the plug go and he bites his own hand to stay quiet. You moan softly and it finally pops out, strings of the stucky lube going from the pink glass to your clenching hole. You lay it down and spread your ass cheeks, presenting to him how beautiful your ass was gaping and clenching.
"S'beautiful," he hums.
"Wanna be filled again, senpai! Will you fuck my ass now? Please?" You beg, voice so pretty and slutty.
Shit. Tomura snaps his hand away from stroking his cook but it was too late. Strings of cum splash onto his stomach. He hardly manages to stay quiet. "Yes," his voice pitched. "Show me the dildos again, sweetheart."
You sit and reach to the side getting the three he selected into view. They are about the same length but vary in thickness. One is anatomically correct, the other has ridges and bumps and the third is curved to hit your special spot.
"Hmm–"
"Senpai," you blink so sweetly and shift to kneel again with your legs spread, your exposed cunt on the blanket. "I got a delivery today. Maybe you wanna try this one out with me for the first time?" You pull a red dildo into view and sit it down between your legs. It reaches all the way to your belly button, ridiculously thick and with ridges. "But only if you want to, I'll do whatever you want."
If you could see his face… Tomura clickes the shortcut and takes a screencap. He has a size kink? He is going insane.
"Let's use that one," he heaves.
You are excited about that and he smiles.
"I need a quick moment, senpai. Tell me are you enjoying this so far?" You start to set up the fucking machine.
"I do. You are perfect," he sighs. "I enjoy this so much," he lets his head fall back against his gaming chair.
"That makes me so happy, birthday boy."
He smiles.
"Apologies, senpai."
"Its fine." It really is. His stomach is feeling all funny and it's not because of his cock being rock hard again. "You can call me that, too."
He watches how you adjust the camera, getting in the position he will fuck you in. He chose that one too. He wants you to lay on your side with your pretty ass sticking out so he can see your thighs and your dangling feet as he controls the thrusts of the machine going into your puckered hole.
"Can you see me alright, senpai?" You check in with him.
"Yes. All perfect."
"Let's test the connection," you say and your voice has a little edge. He watches how you bend forward, opening your mouth in front of the monstrous dildo with your tongue sticking out.
"Fuck," Tomura hisses but he knows what he has to do. He presses the button on his phone that makes the machine go forward and the gigantic head of the dildo pushes into your mouth, stuffing it full. Your moan is muffled. Tomura now retrieves the machine and pushes it forward again, faster now. Your eyes cross as you gag. Tomura moans softly hearing you gasp as he pulls the dildo back.
"Works," you heave, licking up the saliva that splurged. "Senpai, will you go slow at first?" You bat your lashes at the close up shot. "It's so big and my ass is so tight."
"I can't promise you."
You bite your lip at that. "I'll be brave for you, senpai, it's your birthday."
"Good girl," he says and his stomach clenches. He wanted to say that to you for so long.
You coat the dildo and your stretched hole in the sticky lube and line it up. "Fuck me, senpai, please," you say and brace yourself.
Tomura uses his thumb to move the machines forward while his other hand mimics the speed.
You moan and close your eyes as he invades you, pushing the dildo into your ass. You hook one arm around your knees, your pretty pink nails digging into the white fabric of the thigh highs as you hold your legs away. "Senpai," you whine.
"You're doing so well, slut."
You whimper.
He pulls back then enters a little more as he pushes in again, your puckered hole stretching around the red silicone. He pushes back again and now drives the machine forward a bit quicker. You yelp and move forward.
"Don't do that!" Tomura warns.
"M'so sorry, senpai! So big!" You squeal and use the hand that is not holding your legs to squeeze more lube on yourself and then hold onto the wall so you can resist the push.
"Good slut," he says and you look at the camera, giving him a strained smile.
He starts again and this time he gets the cock halfway in. He has no idea how it fits and judging from your face neither do you.
He fucks you like this, halfway pushing the dildo into your ass, making you moan and squirm. He is not holding his moans back anymore either.
"You sound so pretty," you whimper. "Makes me so horny, senpai! Fuck me so good– So big… so big… am so full;" you babble. "More! Please, more!"
"Are you sure you can take more, baby?"
"For you! I am sure! Force it inside, senpai! Please!"
He chuckles. His head is hot, he might have a fever. And does just as you ask. You cry out, holding your hair back as your headset slips off your head. You can't hold yourself up anymore and now he only sees your face in the close up shot. Your mouth forms an O. He watches how shaking hands fix the headset on your head again.
He almost comes again but stops touching himself.
"You are taking it so well. All the way," he cooes. "You like that, huh? Being stretched so much, filled to the brim."
"I do, senpai!"
"Of course you anal whore." He now sets the machine into an automatic fast pace. You take the entire thing… god knows how. "So sexy!" It pushes into you with such a stretch to your hole that it looks airtight.
"W-wanna--s-show you," you heave and hold the camera in your hand. You lay down on your back, making sure the dildo does not slip from your greedy hole. You hold the camera up over your lower half and Tomura holds his breath. No way. No "fucking! Hell," he curses and he cums despite not even touching his dick. He's sweaty and whiny, bucking his hips up. Tomura takes his phone again and pushes into you slowly, watching your tummy bulge with the movement. It was so visible, so deep.
"Fuck, baby!"
"You sound so pretty when you cum," you whine. "Please cum again for me, senpai. Wanna hear you again."
You press down on your stomach and it is even more predominant now. You cry out when he suddenly goes so much faster, drunk on seeing how absolutely filled you are. This is stuff he thought only happens in hentai. You make all his dreams come true.
You throw your head back and your breaths come more rigid. Is it finally time? "Senpai!" You cry. "Gonna cum! Gonna cum! Fuck! Cum with me together! Please!"
Tomura is stroking his aching cock relentlessly. Who is he to deny you? He would not dream of it. "Cum for me," Tomura orders. "Keep your eyes on the damn close up!"
You angle the camera you are holding so he can see your core and twisted your head to look at the close up. You are so happy to comply. You get louder then suddenly quiet.
"Thank you," you press over your lips and come undone, shaking and moaning, your whole body jerking. Tomura comes again at the same time and you both moan together.
He pulls the dildo out and despite you still shaking and being utterly fucked out, you make sure he sees your gaping and abused asshole. He takes another screen cap.
"Such a good anal slut," Tomura breathes. "So fucking perfect. You love getting your ass used like that, so much, don't you?"
You nod and whimper.
"Look how wet you are, shit. I'm getting hard again." It is not just the sticky lube that drops from your folds but your very essence.
You finally sit up, hair a mess and face in a deep blush. You are just the cutest when you look so fucked out.
"That was so hot," you giggle, drunk from your orgasm. He smiles. "Want me to–"
"Want to use the vibe now."
You bite your lip and nod, looking lost for a moment as you scramble for it.
"What's up?" He smiles.
"I needed that orgasm so badly, senpai," you blush. "I feel so good now because of you."
He doesn't know what to answer. The feeling in his tummy is getting worse.
You position yourself again, slipping the pink egg into your soaking cunt. You spread it so he can see your clit.
"Bet you taste so good."
"I do."
"No doubt, baby."
He starts to pleasure you, starting the vibrations low then picking up. He only has an hour with you, otherwise he would torture you for hours. Not because he is cruel but because he is selfish, needing to hear your pleasured noises and see you squirm.
Your pussy is so ridiculously wet and sticky. Your juices all flow into your gaping ass hole and it is just a sight. Another screen cap.
"Can I r-rub my clit, senpai?" You ask.
"Yes."
You do so, vigorously flicking the bundled nerves.
"Wanna see you cum again, baby." He knows you are close, he knows you so well. Your pussy is absolutely filthy.
You and him come again at the same time. Your fucked out face worth another screen cap.
"Now ride the skin-colored cock for me, yeah? But drink something real quick, pretty girl." You are sweaty and blushing hard, breathing heavily from how intense your last two orgasms were. All because of him.
You smile and sip on your drink. "Shall I face you or away?"
"Face me. Wanna see your tits bounce, slut."
You get onto your feet and squad down on the toy, meaning and hissing. You start to ride him, bounce on his cock until your tits are swinging. It looked so good.
"Pretty girl! Squeeze those tits! Yes, just like that. Show em to me. How good am I fucking you?"
"So! Good, senpai! Can't even think… all fucked dumb on your cock" you whimper, blissed out. "Gonna cum again."
"Cum again, baby. Need to see how your legs shake, do it. Just for me."
"J'us f'you," you slur and cry out, shaking again, fisting the fluffy blanket. "Thank you!"
"Fuck!" He comes again and is starting to feel light headed. "So good for me, slut! Such a good girl," his eyes are rolled back and he babbles. "So perfect."
He expects you to tell him that his time is over. His heart breaks with that thought. Tomura is covered in heaps of his own cum, his cock is aching and he doesn't want to stop being with you.
You need a moment to regain your composure and he is proud about that, smiling softly. He did that. You pull the dildo out.
"Lick it clean, will you?" He chuckles, high on endorphins.
You let out a gullible giggle and do so, flicking your tongue on the wet toy, throating it until you gag.
He can't move, head leaning back with his hair sticking to his skin, his legs spread wide and abs tensed. His own cum is everywhere.
"Good slut."
"Birthday boy?" You say. "Do you have some more time?"
"For you always." Did you really say that or was he so out of his mind?
He watches how you take the camera and move to your desk. You lay down a towel before sitting in your pink gamer chair, making sure he can see you properly again.
You are his dream girl. You just are meant for him! He is so sure. You are supposed to belong to him. He knows it deep in his bones.
Your legs spread wide over the arms of the chair, exposing your swollen cunt and you rub your clit. "This is my birthday gift to you," you coo and start to finger yourself, then use the other curved dildo he picked.
The faces you make are just art, just perfect. You are so perfect. Tomura's cock doesn't want to be touched again but he just has to. He is being so loud, moaning along with you as he strokes his aching and overstimmed cock.
"Call me slut again, please, senpai. It sounds so good!"
"Does it, slut? You are such a pretty, dumb whore!" He nearly says he loves you.
"H-hap-PY birth— day," you squeal and liquid shoots from your cunt, your legs snap and shake, eyes roll back.
"Fuck!" He cums again too. It should be impossible but strings of white seeds splurge from his red, swollen tip. He might have lost consciousness for a moment. You don't squirt a lot on stream, it was hard for you to get to that build up you once said but he made you squirt.
When he opens his eyes again you are not sitting there anymore, his heart drops for a second but then you come back with a half eaten cupcake and a candle. The crop top is still rutted up on your chest, your boobs exposed and seem like you forget it.
"It's the only one left," you apologize, chuckling, and put the candle in the cake, lighting it.
You are perfect. You are damn perfect. The cutest girl on this planet.
"Make a wish in 1,2,3." You blow the candle out then clap your hands.
"Thank you," Tomura rasps, his voice so faint.
"Senpai, drink some water, okay? Take a nice shower and have a snack." You smile, utterly exhausted yourself. "It was so much fun with you. I hope I'll see you again. Text me later, okay? So I know you are okay."
"Will do. Take care of yourself, too, baby."
You nod, blow a kiss and the stream ends.
》》》》
You are on his screen again that night. You are still in the thigh highs with a big black sweater, all cozy just playing the sims on stream, talking and answering some questions.
He is staring at the private chat on his phone. What is he going to say? You asked him to text… but what should he say?
(Y/N): What did you wish for?
The message pops up suddenly and his head snaps up seeing you are holding your phone. He is online, which you can see but not typing, for 10 minutes now. You could tell he is a little shy, just helping him out. He types now.
Decay44: Can't tell you. Won't come true if I do. How are you?
(Y/N): sleepy. And you, senpai?
He can see you are tired. So stupidly cute. He wants to wrap his arms around you.
Decay44: I can't move tbh… But I am happy. Wanna see what you did to me?
You smile.
(Y/N): I do wanna see 👀
He looks up and you do too, smirking. Some people in the chat ask what you are reading.
"Nothing," you purse your lips.
He sends you the picture he took right after, still sitting there. All the cum and how red his cock was just deserved to be preserved. He made sure to not catch his scars of course.
He can see the blush that creeps into your cheeks, how you lick your lips looking at your phone.
(Y/N): you're so hot, senpai ♡
You sigh and throw your head back, "seems like you will get a show actually. I just got incredibly horny."
You are his girl.
SHIGARAKI NSFW ALPHABET
{ gift for my beautiful wife ~ @nutsnhonie }
warnings || smut, asphyxiation, fear play, blood kink, marking, rough sex, biting, vouyerism, {more,, but i cant rly think of what to put}
{an: wife wife wife wife wife wife}
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
he cant do much honestly, due to his quirk, but he will hand you things like a wet rag,, water bottle,, etc. even though he is an asshole, he still cares about you.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
his favorite is your hair, since he cant harm that by touching it. but from afar his favorite is definitely your thighs.
on HIMSELF,, he doesnt like much. though he is proud of his dick for some reason,,,
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
he doesn't cum as much as the others, but he still fills you up, hence the name "creampie"
will almost always do it inside of you.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
he definitely watches you masturbate, or watches you while HE masturbates. plug a lil weird but he chill,,
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
hes fucked hookers, or anyone the was willing, but he never cared for them or cared if they finished or not. therefore he is more experienced in HIS job at it. not so much the other things.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
doggy style. though he holds your hips like a british person and their teacup, its still his favorite position.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
doesnt find humor attractive during sex. therefore he is definitely the serious type.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
he has a good amount of hair, but keeps it maintained. same color as the hair on his head and has a niiiceee happy trail.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
not very romantic, but does love you. will probably be romanticish AFTER the sex. still cant fathom the fact that you want him.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
does it when you arent there. when he is really pent up with stress from either a mission or something else, then he will find different ways to touch himself. just wants to get off a few times.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
asphyxiation, blood play, the usual. he definitely likes choking you to the best of his abilities without actually killing you.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
his room, though anywhere you want him to fuck you he totally will.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
you in general, but theres just something about seeing you covered in blood that sparks a match in him.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
coprophilia or anything nasty like that.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
prefers giving, seeing it as his best way of getting you off. his chapped lips definitely make the job easier. he does enjoy receiving though as most people do.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
fast and rough definitely. will only slow down if you beg him too.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
absolutely. he loves taking risks of someone catching you. also if he is in a time crunch he will.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
this is Shigaraki we are talking about. of course he will. enjoys inflicting pain on you, risking being caught, etc
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
for him around 4, but thats just for him. if he is going down on you than it doesnt matter. he can go as long as you need him too. gets him out of team things anyways.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
has a few small vibrators that he collected for you. mainly for when he isnt there, though he definitely doesn't mind using them during sex with you.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
teasing is almost constant with him. he enjoys watching you squirm and watching your face flush up with embarrassment.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
aside from grunts and huffs, he doesnt make much noise. if you manage to get him in a submissive manner {unlikely} then he will whine from overstimulation.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
absolutely into marking. likes licking blood from cuts he inflicts on you, or marking you with hickeys or bites. another one would be fear play. enjoys watching you squirm with fear as he pretends like he is about to actually touch you fully.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
his torso and arms are toned and he is littered with scars from either fighting or missions. his dick is around 7-8 inches hard, with a slightly darker tip than his skin.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
most likely high from all the pent up anger, but wont force himself on you. {maybe in another fic....}
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
will wait for you to fall asleep until he does, but sometimes he doesnt sleep at all after.
hope you like,,, im not used to his character much since i left the fandom a while ago.
{ made by @whokilledsamara }
Switched au part 15
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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.
The fact that one of my relative was concern about my obsession for Tomura..
It's like litteraly none of your business..
Does anyone know when the next part will come ?
im sorry but this fic fucking got to me, i love passive aggressive sun, dont get me wrong; love me normal sun, but this fic got a few laughs outta me-
still having art funk so i let myself do textured lineart, as a treat-
(also benjimen did not have a vivid description besides glasses and a comb over so i took artistic liberty-)
toonervoustotagthecreatoronhere;v;
Shiggy from mha
Please reblog for a larger sample size.
I neeed it ! Whereeee ? Please tell us !
Idk if you care but look at what i bought. He’s so pretty!🥺❤️
GASSP
Ugh, hessoprettyhessoprettyhessopretty--!
Where'd you get this? I wanna buy one!!
Worship the hand worship-
Chapter 132 | The Plan
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18+, minor don't interact with the 18+ contentTomura shigaraki's biggest simpArtist, writter
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