A Cosplay Of Tomura Shigaraki

A little horny thought I had last night.

Warning: Smut, Voyeurism, Masturbation (Tomura), Foot humping (Reader), Praise kink, Daddy kink

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Thinking about watching Tomura masturbate. Him, sitting in his computer chair slowly stroking his fat cock and you planted right next to him straddling his foot. His red eyes bore into you as he's watching you watch him. Every now and again he taps his foot, sending sweet vibrations to your clit. Your arms are wrapped tightly around his leg as you stare up at him with those doe eyes. Those eyes he can't ever seem to resist.

"Such a good girl, watching your daddy get off like this… You seem to be enjoying this more than me."

He darkly chuckles, his hand speeding up making his back arch and his eyes shut.

"You wanna see me cum so bad, don't you, baby?"

You quickly nod and he stares down at you once more. Precum slowly oozes from his tip as his movements become targeted, precise. He taps his foot again and you start grinding against it, peppering kisses along his knee. You worship this man, there's no part of his body you wouldn't touch, kiss, suck. You didn't care how horny it made you look or how desperate you seemed. You were desperate. Desperate for him, for his touch, his words, his gaze. It was like he was dipped in honey or made of sugar. You just had to get a taste. Even if that meant consuming him whole…

Tomura didn't stop moving his foot this time, probably in an attempt to have you cum along with him. Your grip on his leg tightened as you moaned out his name. He reached out and grabbed your chin, guiding your eyes back to his. He panted and groaned but that didn't stop the smile that spread across his lips. He was eating this up. As his climax built, his eyes struggled to stay open, them fluttering shut every now and again. He was close, too close. And yet so far. You leaned into his hand and placed a small kiss against his palm. That was enough to send Tomura over the edge, thick, white ropes of cum gushing out from his dick and onto his shirt. You both watched as it fountained out against his stomach, your orgasm following in suit. You both sat in the moment for a while before you continued to plant kisses along his palm.

"What a good girl you are. I think you deserve a reward…”

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Attention

MDNI

Tomura Shigaraki x gn/afab reader

Content/Warnings/Etc: Reader is in the League of Villains, swearing, kissing, uh sex happens.

the world is a lot today, and over 72 million people can suck my dick. hope this helps distract someone at least a little bit

Tomura Shigaraki always wanted attention. He wanted the world to see him. He needed everyone to know what he's capable of. But on a personal level, one to one, he's never considered what that would look like. 

That's why he's surprised to find his favorite box of cereal in the kitchen after your recent grocery trip. 

“Do you like this one too?” he asks casually. 

“It's good, but I got it for you. That's the one you like right?”

“Yeah..” he trails off while pouring himself a bowl. Eyes tracking you in his periphery, more suspicious than the situation necessitates. 

Of course you knew what cereal he would want, why wouldn't you? It's the subtly sweet ones that have flavor but aren't overwhelming. And the pieces are small enough for him to open his mouth slightly without re-splitting his cracked lips. He picks the same cereal to eat nearly every day if it’s an option, you think anyone would have noticed that. 

Later that day, you settle down on the couch to play video games and call him over. Grabbing a random controller for yourself, you hand him the one he likes. The one with the grips that stick a little easier for him to hold without using all of his fingers. He can use the others, absolutely. But after an hour or so the way he shakes his hands out tells you his fingers cramp more.

To you, this was obvious. You didn't think anything of it. 

But for him, no one ever notices these things. Surely, this must be a coincidence. Right? 

That evening, it shouldn't come as a surprise to him when you pass in the hallway, observing him once more as you walk back to your room in a towel after showering. 

“Your shirt is inside out,” you inform him.

“Oh,” he mumbles, choosing to correct the issue immediately. 

Of course you notice the way his abs ripple as he slides the fabric over his head. How couldn’t you?

Your eyes linger too long and he catches you staring. Only now does he realize these coincidences aren’t coincidental at all, he has your full attention. And he doesn’t know what to do with that.

The two of you stand nearly still, switching between heavy eye contact and glances at each other’s bodies. Both growing more flustered by the minute. It’s as good of an invitation as you’re going to get: after what feels like too long, you break the tension by stepping towards him. Pulling him tightly into your arms before smashing your lips into his with the force of months of longing. There’s a momentary pause as he adjusts to your touch before he kisses you back. You would feel a little bad being so rough with his already cracked skin, but he makes no attempts to pull away. Your combined spit softening his chapped lips as the kiss deepens.

A creak echoes down the hallway, he yanks you into his room - decaying your towel in the process.

“Fuck,” he exclaims under his breath while staring you up and down. 

You’d ask if he likes what he sees, but his facial expressions and the tent growing in his sweatpants already gave him away. Your lips find his again as you shove him back on his bed, climbing over his lap. Immediately, you yank off his sweatpants and underwear. You’re already naked so it’s only fair.

You notice the way he presses into you. Back arching, hips jumping in response to your touch. His arms pull you close as he grinds you against him. Palms pressed hard into your shoulder blades with his fingers tightly tucked into fists. He increases the friction, sliding your wetness over his length as you get more and more turned on. 

One thing you hadn’t correctly predicted: you’re not the one in control here. You half assumed he’d be a little clueless about sex. That he’d cream in his pants from a light breeze but here he is, completely naked dragging you over him and you’re about to reach an orgasm first. 

“Just like that, I’m gonna cum,” you exclaim, breath staggering while you grip his hair harder.  He groans at the pull, but continues moving his hips into you in an almost calculated way. Shaking legs and pussy fluttering around nothing, you feel yourself release against him.

“What the fuck,” you moan into his neck while catching your breath, “didn’t think you had that in you.” 

“I guess you’ll have to pay more attention,” he grins before rolling you onto the bed. Quickly, he moves to a box on the shelf over his desk, pulling out a smaller box.

“You just keep those around?” you ask, eyeing the condom he’s putting on. Even more surprises.

“Uh, not quite,” he mumbles, paying more attention to the task at hand. “The rest of the league got me these as a joke when you joined, I just never threw them out.”

How did everyone notice your crush but him? It seems like they tried to tell him but he regarded it suspiciously, assuming everyone was just fucking with him. 

Doesn’t matter, you decide, he definitely knows now.

Seeing him, all of him fully, in front of you takes your already jagged breath away. Fully clothed, Tomura is beautiful. This is overwhelming. The light mist of sweat coating his skin makes the glow from his monitor reflect off the curves of his muscles. Every scar and scratch looking like it was perfectly placed, even if you know the extent he goes to to keep most of them covered on a daily basis. You cup his cheek, brushing your thumb lightly over his tender skin while he moves back over you.

“This is okay, right?” he double checks as he presses his tip into you, still dripping from earlier.

“Yeah,” you stare down, watching as he slides further in. 

“Look at me.” 

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. Instantly, you bring your gaze up to meet his. Blood red eyes stare back into yours, watching your expression shift as he inches deeper into you. Prior to this, he’d always looked away when your eyes lingered too long. Now, you feel like you could get lost in him. He’s everything you see, feel, and hear. Even the subtle smell of him surrounds you.

The mood shifts as you begin passionately kissing again. Before you know it, he’s pounding into you relentlessly, every thrust buzzing through your body. 

Making the same face as earlier, he knows you’re close. He tries to maintain the pace, but as soon as you’re clenching around him, he's done for. Your orgasms peak simultaneously as he slams you harder into the bed. Legs wrapping around his back, shoving him as deep as he can go. 

“Fuck, y/n,” he groans into your ear before you both become a puddle of bodies on his bed.

A few minutes later, he looks so peaceful. His eyes closed, breathing steady. You’ve never seen him so relaxed.

Quietly, you whisper, “I’ll be right back with some towels and water, stay here.” Taking some of his clothes to replace the towel he dusted earlier, you shuffle out the door. 

Yeah, he thought to himself, he could definitely get used to your attention.

more shigaraki here: m.list

(bnha manga ending spoilers)

what was the point

what was the point

what was the point

WHAT WAS THE POINT

WHAT WAS THE POINT

WHAT WAS THE POINT 😭😭

what was the pointtttt

🥵

New art from Ultra Animation Exhibit

me too..me too...

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

Enough to Go By (Chapter 9) - 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 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Chapter 9

“Mitsu, come on. Mitsu, don’t.” You tighten your grip on her arm and pull harder, even though she’s drunk in six-inch heels and could topple over if the wind blows the wrong way. “It’s not worth it –”

“You hear that, you piece of shit? It’s not worth it.” Mitsuko’s imitation of your de-escalation tone isn’t as good as Tenko’s, but it sounds pretty bad when she’s using it to jeer at a couple of sidekicks. “Just like you and your fucking friends decided that my best friend’s life wasn’t worth it –”

“Mitsu –”

“When you left her under an apartment building one of you knocked down for six fucking hours!”

“We weren’t even there,” one of the sidekicks shouts at her, and Mitsuko spits at him. “Ugh! You crazy bitch –”

You suck in a breath, and so does everybody else. This fight has drawn a crowd, and you see at least one phone out, one camera on. Someone’s just caught a hero on camera cursing out a grieving civilian. You see the hero blanch. He turns towards Mitsuko. “I didn’t mean –”

“No, you said what you meant. You’re all the same,” Mitsuko sneers. “So big and bad, except when it counts. Fuck you.”

Mitsuko has a flair for the dramatic, even when she’s so drunk she can’t see straight. She turns to you. “Come on. Get me out of here before I puke on my shoes.”

You hustle her off down the sidewalk, leaving the crowd and the heroes behind, cursing yourself for letting this happen. It was your job to keep an eye on Mitsuko tonight, to keep her out of trouble, and now she’s on camera starting shit with a hero. Now that you think about it, so are you. Nobody’s going to remember you, not when Mitsuko’s there, gorgeous even with supposedly waterproof mascara running down her face, but it’s not a good thing. There are probably a grand total of eight people who think it’s a good thing, and you’re on first name (or code-name) terms with all of them.

Mitsuko comes to a stop, doubles over – then straightens up. “I need to pee,” she says. “Let’s go to Kamino. I want to pee on that statue.”

“Kamino’s a long way away. You sure you want to hold it that long?”

“Right. I should find a place to pee now,” Mitsuko says. “Then by the time we get to Kamino, I’ll have to pee again.”

There’s no way you’re letting Mitsuko get filmed peeing on a statue of All Might, no matter how much of a kick your new friends would get out of it. You take a deep breath and pull out the big guns. “Is this really how you want to honor Hiro? You know watersports weren’t her thing.”

Mitsuko snorts, then grimaces. Stomach acid in the sinuses will do that. “There’s only one way to honor Hiro,” you continue, “and you know what it is.”

“What is it?”

“Bone Endeavor, film it, and use the tape to ruin his life.”

Mitsuko bursts out laughing. Then crying. You’ve been seeing that a lot lately, anywhere and everywhere – on friends, patients, strangers, and more often than not, on your own face in the mirror.

Japan is reeling from the Kamino incident. You’re not watching world news, but you’re pretty sure the world is doing the same – it’s not every day that a country’s Number One hero goes down on national television. The wreckage of Kamino Ward has already been resurfaced, some of the remaining buildings reinforced but the rest knocked down to create a nice big concrete square for the Kamino Memorial Park, complete with a big statue of All Might. The All Might statue takes up most of the space. The walls featuring the names of the victims are off to the sides. New names are still being added every day.

The windows still haven’t gotten fixed at your clinic, and in addition to a dust and street debris problem, you’re having an animal problem. You chased a bat out with a broom and wound up needing rabies shots, which left you well-equipped to deal with the raccoon that showed up a week later. You’re working a lot, for a lot of reasons. It keeps you out of your apartment during the day or night, leaving it safe for the League’s use. You need the money. And as long as you’re busy with work, with the extra classes in trauma treatment you’ve started taking, or trying to keep Mitsuko from self-destructing, you don’t have to think about what happened at all.

Kazuo’s been keeping busy, too, but your other friends don’t have that option. Mitsuru’s job was in Kamino, in a business that was destroyed, and he doesn’t have a new one yet. Ryuhei hasn’t worked in a while, courtesy of his record, and Yoshimi’s so sick from her treatments that she can’t work at all. In spite of that, Mitsuko’s still the one you’re most worried about. She was closest to Hirono. She’s always had a lot of anger – like you, except you bury it so deep that you sometimes forget it exists. She doesn’t forget. And right now she thinks she doesn’t have anything to lose.

You and Mitsuko were supposed to have a wild night on the town, but after throwing up in two trash cans and one alleyway, Mitsuko’s ready to go home. You’re ready to take her home, too, and you let her sling one arm around your shoulders as you shuffle along. “You know, I can’t work it out,” she mumbles in your ear. “Kazuo I understand, but you? It’s weird.”

“What’s weird?”

“How calm you are,” she says. “Like, right from the start. You love Sho and Hiro just like we do, but you’re – calm. Don’t tell me you got religion about it.”

“No,” you say. “I’ve just done this before.”

It’s not untrue. You’ve lost a friend before, but you didn’t cope well at all, and even if you had, this isn’t the same. You’re miserable about losing your friends, but mourning them visibly isn’t something you’re allowed to do. Not when you’re responsible. All you can do is try to fix it, or at least try to make sure Mitsuko makes it home in one piece, without passing out somewhere or clawing a hero’s eyes out with her acrylic nails.

As you’re helping her unlock her apartment, an idea occurs to you. “Hey, why don’t you come with me to Yoshimi’s appointment tomorrow? I have to go to work, so I can’t stay long, but it would really make her feel better if you stuck around with her at the clinic.”

Mitsuko looks lukewarm on the idea. “I don’t think she wants me there. I’m not very good at comfort.”

“How about just company?” you say, and she shrugs. It irritates you to the point where you play a card you shouldn’t. “Hiro used to.”

“Don’t guilt-trip me,” Mitsuko says. It’s quiet for a minute. “Fine. I’ll sit with her. This time. Then it’s back to you.”

“Sure,” you say. You’re pretty sure you can make it so it’s not just this time.

You say goodnight to Mitsuko, stop at a convenience store for supplies on your way home, and drag yourself into your apartment building. Before you unlock the door, you have to brace yourself. In spite of Tenko’s insistence that you aren’t left alone with the League, there have been at least a few times in the past three weeks that you’ve come home to at least one villain in your apartment.

After Tenko and the others left, after you went to Kazuo’s and stayed up all night, drunk and mourning your friends from under the weight of your guilt, the first thing you did was buy a whiteboard. You hung it on the back of your front door, and each day, you write your schedule on it, letting Kurogiri know what times you’ll be out, when it’s safe to bring villains over for a break. You can tell when they’ve been there, even if you don’t see them – things will be out of place, or food will have disappeared, or you’ll find a ton of black hair dye stains all over the shower. You don’t care that Dabi dyes his hair. You just wish he’d rinse the shower out afterwards.

Sometimes the villains leave notes for you on the whiteboard – Magne commenting on the tragic state of your makeup collection, Spinner apologizing for using the last dryer sheet, Dabi bitching about the neighbors and the noisy sex they’re constantly having in the bedroom that shares a wall with your living room. Sometimes they leave requests for you to buy stuff for them, along with at least some money to pay for it. The only person whose things you buy without asking for payment is Toga.

Everybody else takes things, or asks for them. The only person who leaves things for you is Tenko. As far as you can tell, he shows up exclusively during times when you’re supposed to be home, but for some reason or another you’re always out and about. The first time you know for sure he was here, you came back late and found a flower sticking out of an empty energy drink can on your kitchen counter. The next time it was a piece of your jewelry, with a note: Compress stole this and had Twice leave a copy, but Twice told on him. You need a jewelry box that locks. The third time it was just a note, and just three words, in Tenko’s never-got-past-kindergarten handwriting. I miss you.

You miss him, too. While you’re braced for villains every time you open the door, you’re always hoping he’ll be there.

There’s a villain in your apartment tonight, but it’s not Tenko – it’s Magne, who’s in the bathroom availing herself of your blow-dryer. She’s doing laundry, too, or she’s done it. You catch the unmistakable scent of a dryer sheet that’s gotten sucked into the lint-trap on the air. The smart thing to do would be to leave, but you’re tired, and it’s your apartment to begin with. You set down the items you bought at the League’s request on the kitchen table and sit down in a chair, your chin propped in your hand. You think about scrolling your phone to pass the time, but you don’t need to. Lately all you have to do is stare off into space, and your mind supplies enough uneasy questions to keep you busy for hours.

You come back to awareness when Magne snaps her fingers in front of your face. “Rise and shine, sweetheart. Is this for me?”

She’s holding up the three-pack of deodorant. “Yeah. It’s not the brand you asked for – I didn’t have enough money – but I smelled all the discount ones and picked the one that was closest.”

Magne uncaps one and sniffs it. “Close enough,” she decides. “What about the rest of this? Who wanted thermal socks?”

“Spinner. His note said you all are staying in a warehouse and it gets cold,” you say, and Magne nods. You glance over the rest of the things you bought. Some of them need an explanation. “The numbing gel is for Toga. She bit her cheek and there’s a sore in her mouth. Tell her not to eat anything too acidic until it heals. And these are – she knows what these are for.”

Magne nods sagely. “Oh, and these are for Compress,” you add, tapping a stack of cheap paperbacks. “He said he was bored. These should help.”

“You spoil us,” Magne remarks. She smells like your shampoo. And your body wash. “The boss is as bad as it gets. Who would have guessed that his girlfriend would be such a little saint?”

“I’m not a saint,” you say. She’s not the first member of the League to say that, but your list of sins is long enough already, and it’ll only keep getting longer. “I’m just trying to help.”

“I do wonder what the attraction is,” Magne continues, like you didn’t speak at all. “Guys like him – when they see something pretty and pure, all they want to do is ruin it. And then they don’t want it anymore. I wouldn’t get too dirty if I were you.”

“Thanks for the warning.” You see shadows flickering in your peripheral vision. Kurogiri’s here. “Take this stuff with you, okay? And tell everyone I say hi.”

“No problem.” Magne gathers up the results of the supply run. “Any other messages you want me to send? To the boss, maybe?”

“Nothing I’m telling you,” you say, and she laughs. A moment later she vanishes through the warp gate, and you’re alone. It’s past midnight. There’s really nothing for you to do except go to sleep. Or try to.

You’ve been having a hard time sleeping since Kamino. In some ways, it reminds you of how things were after you stumbled into the ruins of Tenko’s house. The images that won’t leave your head. The questions that chase each other through the darkness – did it hurt, did they know, were they scared, what happened next? There was guilt when it was Tenko’s family dead, the stupid thought that useless, quirkless, five-year-old you should have stopped it somehow – but it’s nothing like the guilt you feel now. Kamino’s death toll stands at nine hundred and eight. Magne said you were a saint, but you aren’t. No saint, no good person, lets nine hundred people, some of them her friends, die.

You’re on hour three of trying to sleep when the shadows in the far corner of your room begin to flicker. It’s another warp gate, and you watch, your heart in your throat, as someone emerges from within it. “Tenko?”

Tenko doesn’t look as surprised to see you awake as you thought he’d be. “I can’t sleep either,” he says. His face is unobscured by the hand. He gestures awkwardly at your side of the bed. “Can I –”

“Yeah,” you say at once, trying not to act like this is the best thing that’s happened to you all week. “For sure.”

Tenko’s wearing gloves already. He kicks off his shoes and strips off his shirt, then climbs into bed on the far side. You’re expecting him to stay there, but instead he reaches across the bed to pull you closer, and once he’s got you, the contented sigh that exits his mouth sets every inch of your face on fire. “That’s better.”

You manage to wiggle your arms free, folding one against your chest and wrapping the other around him. His skin is dry and warm beneath your hand, against your cheek. “Hi, Ten.”

“Hey.” Tenko hugs you closer. “This is your fault. I can’t go back to sleeping standing up after that.”

“That’s because humans aren’t supposed to sleep standing up. I have no idea how you did it for – however long you were doing it.”

“Too long, I guess.” Tenko yawns. “Why can’t you sleep?”

“The people I worked on after Kamino. I keep seeing them.” You keep seeing your friends, too, although there you’re restricted to whatever your imagination can conjure. “Other stuff, too.”

“Like what?”

Like what Tenko’s house looked like the morning after, when you ran into the wreckage. What blood and tissue felt like under your bare feet. You still don’t know if Tenko knows what happened to his family, how much he knows, how he got from his family’s house into the clutches of All For One. “Things,” you say. When you’re able to raise the arm that’s wrapped around Tenko’s shoulders, your fingers encounter the ends of his hair, and you start fiddling with them, to the tune of another contented sigh. “It’s late. Try to sleep. I will, too.”

Tenko relaxes against you, asleep within moments. It takes you another hour at least.

You expect him to be gone by the time you wake up in the morning, but instead he’s still there, shirtless, with a terrible case of bedhead that you think is way too cute. He doesn’t want you to get out of bed at all, but once you do, he trails you to the kitchen, where you start making tea and setting out something for breakfast. “It’s too early,” he complains. “Where do you have to go?”

“I’m taking Mitsuko to keep Yoshimi company during her treatment, and then I’m going to work.” You think through your day and grimace. “And after that I have class.”

“What about tomorrow?”

“It’s my day off.”

“Good,” Tenko says. “Twice is bringing a potential ally. I want you there to meet them.”

Your stomach twists, and your appetite, already fickle on its best day, goes up in smoke. “Who are they?”

“Some small-time yakuza. They want prestige and we need money.” Tenko shrugs. “I’ll come back tonight and we’ll go together in the morning.”

“Okay.” Something about this conversation strikes you as funny, but you’re not sure what it is. It takes a second for it to click, and once it does, you’re laughing.

“What?” Tenko asks suspiciously. “What’s funny?”

“We’re eating breakfast and talking about our schedules,” you say, still giggling. “We sound so normal.”

You think Tenko will laugh, too. He’ll say something snarky, something derisive, about the whole concept of normalcy and moving in with somebody and having any kind of life within the boundaries of a corrupt society. Instead his expression takes on a strange cast. “Do you think we would have been?”

You almost spill the electric teakettle out of shock. “What?”

“If nothing had happened. Do you think we’d have ended up like this?” Tenko gestures around the room, then between the two of you. “Like – us.”

If the two of you had gotten to grow up together, what would you have been? You’ve asked yourself that more than a few times. “If nothing had happened,” you repeat. If Tenko’s family hadn’t died, if he hadn’t wound up with a quirk – or even if he had, and you’d lived across the street from each other in middle school, high school. “I think so.”

“Yeah,” Tenko says after a moment. “I think so, too.”

He doesn’t say how he feels about it, and neither do you, but there’s a distant look in his eyes, like his mind’s gone somewhere else, somewhere far from here. It doesn’t fade until you set a cup of green tea down in front of him. “So,” he says, looking up at you, “how much do you know about the yakuza?”

“Not very much,” you admit. “What do I need to know?”

Tenko gives you a brief overview in between bites of food, then starts in on the details. “The group Twice made contact with is called the Shie Hassaikai. Their leader goes by Overhaul, and he’s young – not our age, a little older. Twice says he seems genuine, but I don’t want us caught off-guard.”

“Which is why you want me there,” you surmise. “If things get heated, turn the temperature down.”

Tenko nods. “It shouldn’t. He’s coming alone.”

“Right.” You force down a bite of your breakfast, then another. “And I should bring the disguise.”

“Yeah.” Black mist begins to ripple through the air near the door, and Tenko swears. “Go away, Kurogiri. I’m not done.”

“It is Dabi’s turn. And according to the schedule, she will be leaving soon.” If Kurogiri could tap his foot right now, he probably would. “With haste, Shigaraki Tomura.”

Tomura swears again, then heads back to your room for his shirt and shoes. “I’ll be back tonight,” he says as he pulls them on.

“Me, too.” You wince as Kurogiri loudly clears his throat, then hurry forward to kiss Tomura goodbye. He’s frustrated. You can tell by the tension in his mouth, the way it takes too long to soften against yours. “Hey. I’ll see you soon, all right?”

Tomura nods once. Then he disappears through the warp gate. As he vanishes, you see him removing his gloves.

You’re alone in your apartment again, and the surge of emptiness you feel threatens to knock you off your feet. You’ll see Tenko tonight, which is good, but tomorrow, you’ll be with Tomura – Tomura and the League of Villains, in disguise like you’re one of them. To the head of the Shie Hassaikai, you’ll be indistinguishable from the others.

And speaking of the Hassaikai – you weren’t lying when you told Tomura you know next to nothing about the yakuza, but you know someone who does. It’s a good thing you’re seeing Mitsuko today.

“The Hassaikai?” Mitsuko repeats, when you ask her while the two of you are waiting for Yoshimi to finish her vitals check. “Where’d you hear about them?”

“A patient.” You aren’t technically lying. Tenko was your patient. At one point. “It wasn’t a name I’d heard before, so I thought I’d ask. In case there was a chance you knew anything.”

Mitsuko’s settled down a bit now, but in middle school and high school, she was in a lot of trouble – skipping school, getting drunk and using who knows what else, hooking up with older guys, sometimes for money or gifts or just to make whatever was going on in her head go away. Some of those guys were yakuza. A lot of them were. And Mitsuko always said they liked to pillow-talk.

She thinks about it for a moment, frowning. “They’re a small group,” she starts. “They’ve got a cross-country network, but there aren’t very many of them. The old head of the family was popular, but the new one isn’t.”

Huh. “Do you know why?”

“The family thing – it’s not a joke to them,” Mitsuko says. “That’s how the former head treated it. Not the new one. One of the guys I used to see – he was from another group, but I remember he’d talked to somebody who’d left the Hassaikai when they were both in jail. That guy said the guys in his gang were just employees now. And they were expendable.”

“So the new guy’s a shitty boss.”

“Try worse. He called him a monster. Said he was empty inside.” Mitsuko looks troubled for a split second. Then she shakes her head. “They all are, though, aren’t they? Yakuza, villains – well, maybe not that Shigaraki guy. He looks like he’s so full of crazy it’s a miracle he doesn’t explode.”

You keep your mouth shut with an effort. What would you say, anyway? Nothing convincing, not without giving away more information than anyone outside the League should know. Mitsuko gives you a curious look. “Did your patient get mixed up with them somehow?”

“I guess so.”

“Hopefully they get out fast. Those guys are bad news.” Mitsuko grimaces. “I’d know.”

She looks like she wants to say more, but then Yoshimi comes out of the check-in room, and the two of you had a talk about not upsetting Yoshimi more than necessary. The two of you turn to her. “I don’t know shit about this,” Mitsuko tells Yoshimi, sounding so much like her usual self that you’d never guess she was wasted and hero-baiting last night, “but you’re with me today. Anybody who gives you shit, they have to answer to me. And I’m not nearly as nice as her.”

She points at you, and you roll your eyes. The only reason you were nice to the one nurse who was even sort of rude to Yoshimi is because you didn’t want her doing something worse when your back was turned. Yoshimi smiles gratefully at Mitsuko. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she says. “We need to catch up. Some of the nurses here are cute.”

You tell them both goodbye and sneak out while they’re talking about the cute nurses. Mitsuko could do a hell of a lot worse than a cute nurse. Maybe she needs that right now. As weird as she gets when she’s in a relationship, almost anything would be an improvement on the self-destruct sequence she’s cycling through. Not that you’re any better. If Kazuo wasn’t too busy pulling together the official incident report on Kamino to take a look at what you’re doing, he’d probably say you were doing the same thing.

You don’t look it. You hold it together at work, checking in on your younger colleagues, supporting the older ones, keeping an eye on the mood with them and the patients both. It’s not a good mood. The rest of the country is ready to venerate All Might and cheer for his victory, but Yokohama was hit too hard. Too many people lost loved one, and too many of those people live in the other Japan with you. Nobody’s gone so far as to sympathize with the League of Villains, yet, but plenty of them are angry with the heroes. And plenty of them are saying it out loud.

The organization that runs your clinic is worried about the staff. Absentee rates are high, and people come to work in bad moods and leave in worse ones. Your supervisor is offering everybody extra time off so long as you take it in shifts, and each and every one of you who was on shift during Kamino is scheduled to meet with a counselor over your lunch hour once a week. You don’t want to do it. You don’t have a lot, or any, good memories of doing therapy as a kid. And this time, there’s something you’re actually guilty of.

But it’s a requirement, and you don’t want to make waves, so you slouch into the mailroom for your counseling session as ordered. Your counselor is rich – you can tell by her clothes and her jewelry – and a whole set of unkind associations spring into your head when you look at her. You try to push them away. If your contempt is oozing from between your teeth, there’s no way you’ll get through this without raising a red flag or ten.

The counselor greets you, introduces herself as Yaoyorozu Shizuka, and something clicks in your head. “Your daughter’s at UA.”

“Yes, my dear Momo! We’re very proud,” Mrs. Yaoyorozu says, even though you didn’t’ congratulate her. “She’s been through quite an ordeal – just like you and your coworkers have been. Why don’t you start by telling me where you were on that night?”

“At first I worked triage with the evacuees,” you say. “When the casualties arrived, I went to assist the doctors and nurse-practitioners.”

“And how long did you do that for?”

“Until someone kicked me out.”

Mrs. Yaoyorozu makes a note in her notebook. Her leather-bound, monogrammed notebook. “How do you feel about the work you and your coworkers did that night?”

If you try to lie, she won’t believe you, and she’ll push the point. You need her not to push. “I feel like we failed.”

“Why do you feel like that?”

“Because that’s what we did,” you say. “Five people died in the exam rooms back there. Two more died in the hospital later. We failed our patients, just like everyone else did.”

“Just like everyone else did,” Mrs. Yaoyorozu repeats. She looks puzzled, or she’s faking puzzlement. You really don’t care which. “What do you mean?”

Of course she’d ask that question. You can’t stop the derisive sound that escapes your mouth. “Let me see. This clinic failed by not being ready to handle a mass casualty event, by not having the necessary equipment to treat major trauma or the staff who know how to do it. The site commander failed by sending those patients to us knowing we couldn’t help them. The heroes on-scene failed by prioritizing helping All Might instead of clearing the route to Yokohama General, so the people they were supposed to be rescuing when they decided it was more important to help All Might could have a chance to survive.”

Mrs. Yaoyorozu is staring at you. Your face is hot and your eyes are prickling, and you sink your nails into the palm of your hand, fighting for control. “We weren’t the only ones to fail those people. We were just the last ones. All those people –”

You cut yourself off. Mrs. Yaoyorozu scrambles to recover. “It was far from an ideal situation,” she says. “It was never going to be possible to save everyone –”

“I thought it was,” you interrupt. “Isn’t that what heroes say they’ll do?”

You need to be careful. You sound like Tomura. But Mrs. Yaoyorozu is shaking her head, smiling indulgently, ready to explain how you just don’t understand that sometimes hard choices have to be made, and you lose patience. “Look, what are you even doing here? Is it just a hobby of yours to come here and minister to the poor unfortunates who weren’t born quirked or pretty or rich? This isn’t your city and we aren’t your people. We don’t need saving. We don’t want your help.”

“Don’t speak for your colleagues,” Mrs. Yaoyorozu says mildly. “You don’t need saving. You don’t want my help. Why not?”

You look blankly at her. “You’ve been through something traumatic,” she continues. “The whole city has, and those of you who responded directly to the tragedy haven’t had time to process what you experienced. That’s what this space is supposed to be for. If it would be best for you to process by expressing your anger towards me, that’s all right.”

“So you’re going to martyr yourself.” You don’t understand where the disdain in your voice is coming from. “Sit here for an hour, then go home and tell your maids and your husband and your butler about how the nurse at the poor-people clinic was so mean to you when all you wanted to do was help.”

She’s staring at you now like you’ve slapped her, when you haven’t raised your voice or sworn or even moved an inch in your chair. You’re using your de-escalation voice, but the context is all wrong, and even as you struggle to rein in your temper, you can’t stop yourself from turning her words back on her. “If that’s what would best help you process your savior complex, that’s fine with me.”

Mrs. Yaoyorozu holds your gaze for another few seconds. Then she ducks her head, writing frantically in her notebook. “Are you crying?” you ask her. The false concern in your own voice makes your skin crawl.

Her eyes are clear when she looks up. “Blaming oneself or others for the traumatic events or for what happened afterwards,” she says. “Check. Persistent state of fear, horror, anger, guilt, or shame – check. Persistent negative cognitions, such as “I am bad”, “no one can be trusted” – check. Do you know what I’ve just listed.”

“Criterion D of the PTSD diagnosis.” Kazuo tried this trick on you already, and you were a lot more likely to listen to him. “What’s your point?”

“I can see by the dark circles under your eyes that your sleep’s disturbed,” she says. “Whether that’s by nightmares or by ruminating on what’s occurred, you’ve met Criterion B. By verbally sparring with me you’re avoiding engaging with your own feelings about what happened – Criterion C. Disturbed sleep partially covers Criterion E, and I imagine if I asked you whether you startle easily, find it difficult to concentrate, or feel unsafe in most settings, I’d get at least one yes. But I don’t need a yes to diagnose you – the first symptom under Criterion E is irritable behavior and angry outbursts. What would you call this?”

She gestures at the space between you, and you sink your nails into your palm again. “I’ve spoken to your coworkers about you. They describe you as kind, supportive, calm – the person who smooths over conflicts, not starts them. This conversation is a symptom, a sign of what you’ve been through. It’s not who you are.”

But it is. It is who you are now – a person who takes a skill you’ve used to help people and twists it into a weapon, a person who backs someone else into a corner and goes for their throat, and the worst part is, you can’t pin this on your association with the League of Villains. Tomura’s not standing here feeding you lines. This was all you. What’s happening to you?

Trauma, Mrs. Yaoyorozu would say, if you asked what she thought. You know the real answer: Guilt.

It’s quiet for a little while. When you speak up again, your voice doesn’t sound like your own. “I don’t want to talk anymore.”

“I understand,” Mrs. Yaoyorozu says. You spend the rest of your lunch hour in silence, staring at the wall.

Silly Time

SO UH i finished it (: teehee

be kind as always as i was just having fun with it!! thank you for the love on the snippet of this... i hope you guys enjoy this silly thing!! Happy new year from me!!

[1,178 words]

---------------------------------------------

It was another sunny day in the Daycare. Kids were playing and screaming in delight as they ran around.

Sun was sitting with some quieter kids at the small table, where they all drew on some colored paper with crayons. He, too, was drawing along with them. It looked rather comical as he sat there, his legs bent like a frog would sit, and in his hand a tiny crayon as he doodled on the blue piece of paper he had gotten. Sun was enjoying his day until a tiny voice spoke up at the table.

"Uhm... Mister Sun?"

Sun looked up from his drawing, his faceplate doing a silly little spin and his grin soft. 

"Yes, little star Kris?" 

The little girl looked down at the crayon in her tiny hand before speaking again. "I was... Wondering if you knew why Mister Moon calls the nice security guard, who comes here sometimes, for Love."

Sun trained his barely moving expression to remain still, though inside, he was shocked by this new knowledge. "Oh? Moon calls them for Love?" He tried to poke Moon's AI in his headspace, but the other remained quiet. Sun and Moon were able to communicate through their shared headspace, but the other AI moved away from Sun's poking, making him scoff internally.

"Yeah... I was just wondering because my mom and dad call each other that." Little Kris continued before going back to doodling as little kids do when they lose interest in getting an answer.

Which fit Sun fine as his inner workings were reeling, his fans kicking in. Moon had never mentioned that he was hanging out with a night guard, and especially not this one.

Sun could usually peek through Moon's eyes and be present when Moon was in control, but lately, the other AI had closed the connection, and at first, Sun thought maybe Moon just needed alone time, which was, of course, fine! But it seems there were other things at play. 

But Sun couldn't ask Moon about this right now. He was working and busy as he was an excellent daycare attendant. He thought so himself, at least.

--

Luckily for Sun, the kids got picked up earlier today, and he decided that as soon as he had cleaned, he would poke his other half until he responded. 

As Sun swept the floors and cleaned the surfaces, he heard the doors open, and the Security guard came in. The animatronic scattered to the playground to hide as he often did when this guard came around. It was not that he hated this security guard or anything. He and Moon didn't trust any of the adults. But for Moon, that might have changed.

"Hello? Moon?"

Sun was in one of the play castles, quiet as he hid in the small tower, checking his internal clock. It was indeed time for Moon to come out, and Sun could feel the other stir.

The sunny animatronic kept his white eyes on the security guard, hiding behind the castle doorway as he spoke internally. 

"Oh! So now you respond to me." Sun grumbled.

"... I just woke up," Moon mumbled back in reply.

"And?! Moonie, what is this about you calling THIS security guard for 'Love'??!" 

Moon groaned in the headspace. "You said you didn't like them, and I wanted to see them for myself and quickly found out you're being a dumbass."

Sun squawked in their shared space. "ME?? A DUMBASS? Moonie! The adults are not nice to us ever. I mean, you even told me you hate all the night guards and the security guards!"

Sun could feel Moon rolling his eyes. "This one's different. Let me out. They're calling for me still."

"Nuh-uh."

"... What the hell do you mean 'Nuh-uh'??" Moon growled.

"Moon? It's time to do the rounds!" The short guard called out into the empty Daycare, then removed their hat to scratch their head. "Moon? It's okay if you don't want to! Uh..."

Sun kept his eyes trained on the guard from his hiding spot. 

Moon continued. "Sun! Let me out!"

"I can't believe you trust them to do those security rounds with you! They're small! weak!"

Moon scoffed. "They're nice! Now let me out!"

Sun hummed and then replied, "No."

"NO?! SUN!"

The Sunny animatronic then shut the other AI out, dooming Moon to sit back and watch as he moved down from the play castle and over to the security guard. 

"Hi, Friend!" Sun said with a bright smile.

The security guard jumped in surprise and dropped their hat. "oh! Hi Sun!" they stuttered and bent down to pick the hat up. "I was wondering why the lights were still on..." They mumbled to themself.

Sun frowned, and Moon broke through. "You have never been kind to them, you wannabe jester." Sun gaped internally. Oh, how he wished he could punch his other half.

"Well! Sunshine. I got the task of cleaning the Daycare, and it took a bit longer than I thought," Sun said with a smile, but it faltered when he heard Moon's deep chuckle in the back of their shared headspace.

The guard looked at Sun with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. 

Sun then realized he had given the security guard, he had avoided at all costs, a nickname, an endearing one as well. "Oh."

"Uhm... Well, if Moon isn't active, can you tell him to come find me once you're done?" The guard- ["-Sunshine." Moon supplied with a smirk in this tone.] 

Sun groaned lightly, running a hand down his faceplate before smiling at the guard. "Or we could go together?" 

Moon growled in the back of his head. "You cannot take my time! Sun! Go turn off the lights. Now."

Sunshine, the guard, looked shocked; it looked like this was so out of pocket for Sun to suggest. "Oh!... Are you able to leave the Daycare?" They curiously asked.

Sun hummed. "Yes, of course! If Moon can leave, why shouldn't I also be able?" he asked with a spin of his faceplate, causing Sunshine to let out a flustered giggle.

"True... Well, alright, if Moon doesn't mind," They said with a smile. Sun smiled sweetly as he heard Moon complain angrily, wandering around in their headspace. "He doesn't mind at all, Sunshine! It will be good for us to get to know each other!" He held his hand out to them, which they grabbed with a shy smile. 

"Ooooo, when I get you, Sun." Moon hissed quietly in their shared head, to which the sunny side of the animatronic let out a quiet chuckle before looking down at Sunshine and guiding them to the massive doors at the entrance to the Daycare.

The two left the Daycare hand in hand to do security rounds. Maybe Moon was right about this one, Sun thought as he glanced down at the guard as they walked together. 

This time it was different.

Not that Sun ever wanted to give Moon right, but perhaps he could let this guard close to them.

Just this one time.

Okay so I Need to ask. Repressed Shigaraki, after that initial night, how would he go about handling his libido. Like would he ask you out or just daydream a lot? What if it got out of hand (lol hand) and he couldn't take it

He… wouldn’t. Handle it, that is. He’s convinced himself that he’s “immune” to such temptation, so when it smacks him in the face like a damn ceiling fan, he has no clue how to go about it. He’s never dealt with overbearing lust before. This is all new to him. He’ll get a little hormonal rise every now and again but usually he can deal with it with the ol’ in-out four finger palm pump. Not this time.

Afficher davantage

heyyy

soemone want to rp in private ?

I rp about : the walking Dead

Mha

Scp fondation

Maybe others but please ask first^^