#(that time an ask got Tomura so worked up i had to go back and edit in more yelling)

[lexxiie]

can we have lov trio + overhaul discovering that their s/o had been cheating on them? 🥺

When They Think You Cheated

Omg, anon, no! I'm so bad at writing break ups, so I'll change the concept a bit to them believing their s/o is cheating, but she's not.

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Featuring: Shigaraki, Dabi, Hawks, Overhaul.

TOMURA SHIGARAKI

Tomura is an insecure man. That is no secret to either of you, however, he understands how his insecurities may harm your relationship, so most of the time he voices them out so that you can both talk about them, and you always end up reassuring him.

Today, though, he cannot, for the life of him, think of a way to talk out the fact that you have a hickey on your neck. What is there to talk about? The truth that he ignored was that you accidentally burnt your neck earlier this morning while doing your hair, it would've never occured to him, especially when he was as angry as he is right now, observing your neck, a thin layer of make up attempting to cover the mark, but failing. Why would you even hide it if there was a reasonable explanation? He knew for a fact that he didn't left that on your neck.

As much as he wanted to yell at you and dispose of all his rage, truth was that he was really hurt, and so everything he managed to do was confront the reality with resignation. "Who did that?" He asked calmly, but you could hear bitterness in his voice. "What?" You asked, not very sure what he meant. He looked at you angrily now, it was very clear. "Who's the guy that you are seeing? Or do you just happen to have a different one every now and then? You know, I always thought of you as a smart girl, but it is very stupid of you to let them leave your neck like that, you could've tried harder to hide it." You finally understood what was going on... Oh god. He tried to sound as if he didn't care, cold and indifferent, but you knew how incredibly hurt he was.

You immediately got up and approached him, reaching for his face, but he moved to avoid your touch. "Tomura, look, it's a burn mark, I did it with my straightener, I swear." He looked at you through narrowed eyes, still not believing you. You rushed to your room and came back with your straightener in hand, turning it on and attempting to place it on your arm, but Tomura immediately stopped you. "Are you crazy?" The man scolded you, and you looked at him desperately. "It is a burn, I swear." You repeated. Now starting to doubt himself, Tomura then reached for your neck, caressing it softly with his thumb, rubbing a bit of the make up off. You were right. Oh no. He truly felt like a fucking asshole. The man sighed before pressing his forhead against yours. "I'm truly sorry, (Y/n). I'm so, so sorry." You were just relieved it all ended. He spent the rest of the evening tending to your wound, scolding you for putting make up on when it was still so fresh and kissing your cheeks in hopes you would forgive him. Never again will he act like that, that's for sure.

TOUYA TODOROKI | DABI

Touya sits silently on the edge of the bed as he observes the hotel recipt he found under the bed. It dates a week back, when you were supposed to go on a work trip at a completely different city than the one this hotel was at. Now, he can be very confident some days, and very insecure some other days. This is one of the latter days, evidently. In moments like this, thousands of thoughts run through his mind. Why? Is it because of the scars? But you said you didn't care. Did you lie? Of course you did, who would actually choose him over anyone else? He feels stupid, and so heartbroken. He loves you. He really does, and now all of this hurt has turned into uncontrolable anger.

He stands up and walks to the kitchen, where you turn around to smile at him as soon as you hear him coming, only to be greeted by his beautiful blue eyes contorted in pure rage. He must be a very scary adversary to his enemies. "What the fuck is this, (Y/n)?!" He asks while holding the recipt in his hand, speaking those words through gritted teeth, as if his jaw was frozen because of how angry he is.

"Wait, Touya, is not what it looks lik-" The villain slammed his fist on the kitchen island, flames emanating from it. "It's not?! Really, (Y/n)? Do you really think i'm this fucking stupid?” He is now yelling, very loudly. He starts getting closer to you, and you start walking backwards, trembling. He then takes one more step forward and you raise your arms as if you wanted to protect yourself. Now Touya is the one walking backwards. He would never hurt you, but as he took a step back, he realized that it really looked like it. Did you think that he was gonna incinerate you? Did you think he was about to hit you? The look on your eyes was too familiar, he had seen it in his mother's eyes way too many times. He sighed deeply as he burried his face in his hands. It seemed like he wanted to wake up from a nightmare, and then, as seconds went by and he wasn't lifting his head, you realized he might have started to cry, though he would never let you see him.

"That day-" you started speaking after several minutes, "I decided to stay at a different city because I heard about it being quiet and pretty. I thought maybe I could rent an apartment there, so you wouldn't be at risk. There isn't many people, it is indeed quiet, no one would recognize you, so I looked at a few places. There isn't anyone else I'm seeing, just apartments." Touya finally lifted his head from his hands, and you could see the relief in his eyes, but also a lot of guilt. A lot of it. He got closer, kneeling before you, pressing his forehead to your body, his hands clenching the coat that covered the sides of your frame. This was him apologizing. You caressed his hair softly, everything would be okay.

KAI CHISAKI | OVERHAUL

He trusts you, he really does, but what is he supposed to believe when you tell him that you are going to the grocery store and you lie. He went there to help you in case you had bought too many stuff since it was taking you a while, but you were nowhere to be found. Minutes later, you come home, smelling like men's cologne that clearly wasn't his own.

God, this can't be happening, he thinks to himself. You walk to him, hoping to get a kiss from the yakuza, but instead you are greeted with a cold stare, his lips don't move when you place yours over them. "Where were you?" He asks visibly angry. "At the grocery store." You answered showing him the two bags on your hands. "All of these hours just for that? You really don't want to piss me off, (Y/n). Not more than you already did." Now his tone sounds like a threat, and you get defensive. "What is that supposed to mean?" You ask him. You have always hated whenever he would talk to you like you were one of his men, and he knew that. "Where did you actually go?" Unbelievable. You still didn't quite understand where he was trying to get, but you did know that you didn't like the way he was interrogating you. "Did you go out to meet with someone?" He asked, this time, impatience ruled over his voice. Okay, so he thinks you are cheating. great.

Leting out a heavy sigh, you dropped your bags on the floor and approached the hurting man before you. Much to your surprise, he allowed you to take his face in your hands. "I went out to get you a new cologne, I noticed you ran out of the last one I gave you. I wanted it to be a surprise, but it is in the car, in case you wish to have it now."

God, did he feel like an idiot right now... You could tell that he was beating himself up mentally. The worst part of it was that he felt truly relieved that you hadn't fallen out of love with him yet. Despise him attempting to seem indifferent earlier, he felt like his whole world was crumbling down before him. Kai then took your hands in his, kissing them softly. "I'm truly very sorry, darling." He said sincerly. "It's okay, I should've made up a better excuse anyway." You replied smiling gently. He couldn't help but smile back, still embarrassed with himself. He compensated you treating you to dinner that night. Kai saw himself realizing how strong he felt about you. The sole idea of you leaving made him feel vulnerable and terrified for the very first time in a while. He was going to need to learn how to trust you more if he didn't want to lose you.

KEIGO TAKAMI | HAWKS

The pro hero had a lot of work all of the time. He would get home late very often, many times closer to sunrise than midnight. Of course, it was only logical for you to be asleep at those hours, which was always the case. Except for last week.

He had gotten home very late, but still earlier than usual, expecting to find his lover on his bed, hoping he could hold on to you for a couple of hours before he had to get to work once again, but you weren't there. Naturally, he freaked out, but just as he was about to go looking for you everywhere, the main door flew open. He hid on the bathroom, in case it was someone else, but all he saw was you getting on the bed and falling asleep almost instantly.

He let that incident go. He gave you the benefit of the doubt, he gave you his trust. This despite the uneasy feeling in his chest, however, today, you weren't on the bed either. Now the doubt felt very real. What on earth could you be doing at 4 am? He waited a couple of minutes, until you finally got home. The hero was trying his very best not to break down when he saw you. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this hurt. "That other bed must be really comfortable." He accused, startling you as you obviously weren't expecting to see him yet. "What?" you asked, a bit disoriented. "You heard me." Keigo then stood up from the couch, walking towards you. "How long have you been sneaking out for, huh? Cause this is the second time I witness this already" You realized how this looked immediately. Oops.

"Listen, Keigo, I'm not sleeping with anyone else. In fact, I'm not sleeping at all." The man looked at you confused now, all of the anger he previously showed you slowly disappearing. "I have been having trouble sleeping, so i go out and take walks in hopes i'll get tired, I'm sorry I worried you, yes?" You assured your lover as you took his hands in yours, offering him a tired smile. "But why? You used to sleep well before..." All of his previous worries seemed to be forgotten as soon as he realized how tired you looked, his hands roaming your face, as if they would figure out what had changed. "Yes, that was before you would leave all night, I guess I'm a bit more anxious now." You confessed. He felt very bad for adding to your already bad night with his insecurities. Soon after, though, Keigo managed to change his schedule, making sure to spend every night holding you, and he would be lying if he said he didn't miss you too. As for that particular night, he prepared you a tea and talked about his day until he made sure you had fallen asleep.

MASTERLIST

[thehusbandoden]

You Flinch During an Argument -Amajiki Tamaki

A/n: so sorry this took so long! I had a good thing going but my power went out and it got erased </3

I do think this one's better though. Technically this is the third legitimate try <33

Edit: I'm trying out a new format for my info.. is it better or worse O.o

General info:

Wc: 1,176 words | angst to fluff/comfort | Character/s: Tamaki Amajiki

Warnings!: loneliness, snapping, flinching, a little bit of crying. Please let me know if I miss any! <3

Dabi | Hawks | Todoroki Shoto | Bakugo Katsuki | Midoriya Izuku | Shigaraki Tomura | Aizawa Shota | Amajiki Tamaki | Kirishima Eijiro | Shinso Hitoshi

The night was cold as you sleepily flipped through your journal, not wanting to write but knowing you should. The entries from the last three months have been short and filled with a dull ache of lonliness. They lacked the usual length and warmth you poured into the pages, ranting on about how sweet your timid Tamaki is and how much you adore him and his ever lasting warmth.

The rambling would go on and on, but now you wrote a paragraph or two about how your life has been 'fine' and that Tamaki has been super busy- if you wrote at all.

There was one or two that held multiple paragraphs of your frustration and not knowing who to blame- knowing that it wasn't Tamaki's fault that there weren't enough heroes to protect the innocent of your large city.

Tamaki was doing his best to protect the defenseless, and you admired that- but the dull ache that sat in the pit of your stomache couldn't go ignored much longer.

Sighing, you closed your journal, standing up from your desk to head to the living room, deciding to talk to Tamaki tonight.

~~

Four hours later Tamaki walked through the front door, tall form drained from exhaustion as he made his way inside, already stripping off his hero gear.

"Tama?" You call, poking your head out from the living room to sadly smile at your Tamaki.

"Oh. Hey y/n." Tamaki yawned, dropping both his cape and mask onto the floor as he dragged his feet towards your room, tossing his belt onto the kitchen table before moving onto taking off his gear further.

"Wait, Tamaki!" You call, stopping at the bottom of the stairs as Tamaki paused, looking back at you.

"Yes bunny?"

"Ummm.. can we talk?" You ask, smiling at the nickname Tamaki gave you the first week into your marriage- though he later admitted that he thought of it when you two were simply friends but was too shy up until that point-.

"Baby, I'm really tired.. is it important?"

"Yes.. it'll only take five to ten mintues."

"Okay baby, where do you want to talk?" Tamaki yawned.

"How about the living room? I can give you a shoulder massage while we talk if you like." You smile, causing Tamaki's eyes to shine as he smiled down at you.

"I'd like that."

~

After you were both situated you started by squirting some lotion on your hands before spreading it onto Tamaki's left shoulder, immediately noticing his many knots.

"Okay bunny, what did you want to talk about?"

"Oh.. so I know that you're working really hard and are really tired.. and I also know that we haven't had us time in a while.. so I was wondering if you could take a day or two off? Not much, just a day or two would be fine."

Tamaki was silent as you bit your lip in anticipation, hoping you didn't upset him somehow.

"Y/n.. are you serious?"

"Y-yes?"

"Do you know how many people might be dying right now? I can't just laze about spending time with you because you're feeling lonely. Why don't you go hang out with some friends?"

"T-that's not the same.."

"How so?"

"I want to spend time with you Tamaki. You know, my husband?" You scoff, starting to get annoyed.

"And I want to spend time saving people y/n, why don't you stop being sensitve and start thinking about other people?"

"But I've been holding my feelings back for months! Please! I'm just asking for a day- even a few hours is fine!"

"Y/n. No. Now if you're done I'd like to get to bed."

Jerking his shoulder away from your touch, Tamaki started standing up.

"But wait Tama-"

"No. I'm disappointed in your selfishness y/n."

"Wai-"

"Stop."

"Pl-"

"I said stop!" Tamaki hissed, turning around to face you within a second.

At the sudden movement and change of tone you flinched back, tears gathering in your eyes as you stared up at Tamaki, eyes wide.

As Tamaki glared down at you he froze as you flinched, heart immediately breaking as he saw the tears in the corners of your eyes.

"Y-y-y/n I-"

"I-it's okay Tamaki.. you don't need to say anything. I get it. I-I'll just go to bed now."

"B-but y-y/n.." Tamaki whimpered, guilt consuming him as he watched you walk away.

"Y-y/n.. I'm sorry.."

~

You quickly got in bed after hurrying up the stairs, wiping at your eyes as you clung to your pillow, staying as far away from Tamaki's side as possible.

~~

You awoke the next morning to the sun shining in your eyes.

Wincing, you turned around to feel for Tamaki, forgetting all about last night and the dreadful few months.

After feeling how cold Tamaki's side of the bed you sighed, memories coming to you in flashes as you stared at his side of the bed.

Wiping away the stray tears, you got out to get ready for a day worse than the one yesterday.

After getting dressed you made your way down stairs, deciding to get on top of your piling to-do list to help get your mind off of Tamaki.

Stepping into the kitchen, you stepped back at the sight of a lavish breakfast filled with all of your favorites spread across the newly cleaned kitchen table.

"T-Tamaki.." you whimper, looking at your beloved with tearful eyes as he guilty studied you with his indigo orbs.

"Y-y/n I-"

You interrupted Tamaki as you rushed into his arms, clutching the back of his shirt, desperate for comfort from the man you've grown to adore.

"Y/n I- I'm so so sorry." Tamaki mumbled, burying his face into your hair to mask the tears falling from his eyes.

"I forgive you Tamaki, I know you were just over worked and didn't mean to take it out on me."

"I promise you- I really didn't me an to, a-and I feel terrible about it."

"Shhh it's okay baby.. I already forgave you. We just need to reflect on what we did wrong tonight and make sure not to do it in the future. Next time, I'll wait until you're less exhausted, and you'll make sure to remind me that you're too tired, mkay?"

"O-okay.."

"Now baby.. why are you home? Don't you have work?"

"Nope, I took the next two weeks and a half off. I know that it won't make up for the months of loneliness, but I'll try to be better, I"ll take less shifts and make sure to only leave for emergencies when I'm off the clock.

"Alright, that's a good start."

"I may need today and possibly tomorrow to sleep.. but I cleaned the entire house -besides our room- and looked at your to- do list and did a few of the bigger things on there.. oh and I made us breakfast.."

"Tamaki. I love you. So, so much."

"I love you too bunny. I'm really rea-"

"Shh, I already said I forgive you. Now, let's eat!"

~~~

Series' masterlist | Tamaki's masterlist | Navigation

Tips <3

Reblogs help spread and support my work, therefore they help me immensely but any support is appreciated <33

Do not copy, repost, nor plagiarize my work. Ask before you translate or use my work in any way minus reblogging.

[dashielldeveron]

soulmate trope | shigaraki tomura

Shigaraki’s route of soulmate trope.

"post-canon shigaraki? canon isn't even finished as of when this was posted on 4 january 2024!"

yeah. thank god. gives us time to write our own endings. and obviously i will be wrong about some things. i recommend you read at least one other route, preferably dabi’s, before reading this one. warnings: female reader. manga spoilers up to around chapter 390-411ish, based on language used by others to describe shigaraki and his trauma. bodily consequences to his trauma (some things are intended to read as AFO having forced an ED on shigaraki, but this is not made definitive). sexual content. stalking. gore (in a game). reader is experiencing a type of gifted kid burnout.

~28k

There’s a hentai book lying on your bed.

You’ve never seen it before.

Flipping through it, you winced at the positions the large-titted, ponytailed woman was manhandled into, and though you were frankly impressed that she managed to wear such intricate lingerie underneath her everyday business attire, the protagonist only just got home from work; let her decompress for, like, ten minutes before railing her against the window, please.

Whom did you know who would read volume four of something called GINSENG TEA X LUSTFUL BALLSACK?

Unfortunately, you were burdened with knowledge about your friends’ sexual habits, and some of them, therefore, were already ruled out: Shinsou only read erotica because he preferred his own imagination to any images hentai or live-action could provide, and Monoma only read hentai in which the woman’s eyes had hearts in them to let the reader know she’s enjoying it—not to mention Monoma wouldn’t buy a hard copy of it, let alone a story that didn’t have more plot and character development to it. There wasn’t enough drool for Sero to be interested, and the male protagonist wasn’t enough of a twink for Kaminari to project onto, so whose was this?

Moreover, who the fuck would come all the way back to your old school’s campus to break into your room to leave it on your bed? (Shinsou would be your best bet for that part, but whenever he finished a patrol nowadays, he went directly to sleep, and his and Monoma’s flat was across town.)

You cat, Dango, jumped onto the bed, slithering up next to you and bumping her head on your elbow affectionately.

“Is this yours?” you asked her, and she sniffed the book before climbing into your lap.

You tossed the book aside to pet your cat with both hands, and you resolved not to think about it any longer, even though the cringy way the mangaka depicted the female orgasm was burnt onto your brain.

***

Hopping to put your heel back into a ballet flat, you held the phone between your ear and shoulder while you struggled towards the lift. “I’ve got to cancel on you, Ochaco,” you said, flipping the back of your blazer collar down and adjusting the lapels, “I’m, fuck—I’m not gonna be able to make it this evening, so just go without me.”

Uraraka sighed on her end. “Okay. I know a lot of us were excited to see you after so long—there’s a card Tsu’s made us all to sign, and everything—but we’ll manage. ‘Spose we’ll just have a routine night at the bar and reschedule when you can make it. I miss you,” she said, “and I’m pretty sure I can say the same for everyone.”

The elevator door slid open, and you entered. “All of you are so clingy. I’ve only been away from the agency for around two months, and you know where to find me.” You mashed the button for the ground floor. “In fact, it’s embarrassingly easy to access me.”

“Well, we’re very busy,” said Uraraka, “People are very eager to conscript us for missions, even if they really could be done by the police. U.A. alumni have somehow upticked in their popularity even more since we graduated—”

“Ochaco, I know. I was there. Allow me to weep for your success. I am playing the world’s tiniest violin.” You shifted your bag’s full weight onto your shoulder and exited into the commons. “But listen. I’ve got to go; I’m running late this morning. I couldn’t find my pantyhose even though I laid them out last night, and they weren’t in any of my cat’s usual hiding places. I had to turn my flat upside down and still never found them.” The outside doors slid open when you approached, and the harsh, morning wind upset your hair on impact. “Give everyone my love, O. Tell Todoroki to smile in his next interview.” Eyes darting across your surroundings for any witnesses, you shrank in on yourself and bit the inside of your cheek. “And tell everyone I’m sorry, okay?”

By the time you arrived at U.A.’s administration building, the wind had been joined by a light drizzle that would probably morph into a storm within the hour, a prediction compounded by a plethora of faculty umbrellas in and beside the stand by the sliding doors. The front office was gloriously vacant, though, so you were able to slip behind the front desk without someone rebuking you for being—you shook the computer mouse to wake it up, the clock popping up in the corner—seventeen minutes late.

(You’d graduated with the rest of the class six months ago, and you’d founded the all-girls agency uptown, with most of the women in the graduating class joining to form an instant powerhouse of the industry.

Founding an agency appealed to a good deal of graduates, but you were the only one to go the distance: you were the one to actually make the calls, fill out the paperwork, get aggravating shit done, and by the time to move into the building, it had pleased you to no end that Midoriya had asked you for help on kickstarting his own.

And then two months ago, you’d pulled off, frankly, what was supposed to be an impossible rescue. For the first time, you were getting enormous amounts of attention, from civilians, from press, from other heroes—and you were being followed, never having more than a moment to yourself—always being watched, either from well-wishers or nay-sayers—and sometimes, the analytical critic, eager to point out your faults in the rescue mission to try to drag you out of the hero scene.

You hated yourself for this, but they won.

Too many expectations. All sinking down on you, as if no other hero existed while the light shone in your direction. [And you hated yourself for even daring to consider this—what reprehensible audacity, but—but was this how All Might had felt?]

You’d had something next door to a panic attack when a convenience store, a regular stop in your weekly routine, filmed your reaction to how they’d auctioned off your signed receipt for over nine hundred thousand yen. Breaking their cameras, Shinsou had to escort you out of there in a rush and call Aizawa for help.

Sobbing into Shinsou’s phone on the soggy concrete of a darkened alleyway, you did something you never fathomed you’d ever do, something you could never see any of your friends ever doing, something that seemed as alien and unthinkable as sticking your hand into a pit of needles: you begged Aizawa to get you out of the hero business.

You’ve been handled with care and relocated into a surprising covert secretarial job in the U.A. admin, Nezu’s logic was that you’d adjust to one person needing you at a time, say, over email or at the desk, and if you only answered the phone with only a shortened version of your name, then no intruding civilian would be the wiser.

The job was easy, anyway. Paid well for what it was, but perhaps that was simply standard for U.A. Nowhere nearly as well paying or exciting as working as a hero, but you were adjusting into mundanity. Some days had stretches of hours in which you didn’t interact with anyone, sitting at the front desk without a task, and you even had a few days in which you’d gone in, piddled around at the desk for your whole shift without seeing another soul, and gone home.

Your friends were always so busy. The two times you’ve been able to meet with them contained nothing but conversation about hero work, or else everything was somehow tangentially related to it, and you found yourself unable to contribute to the conversation. Both times, you’d left early, a little overstimulated, leaving Shinsou to make your excuses.

And Shinsou, bless him. Not avoiding you on purpose. In fact, you knew he’d drop almost anything for you to hang out, but you knew his schedule and how little rest he got. So, it was more of a self-imposed boundary on your side, taking into account that he needed sleep more than he needed to spend time with you.

So, yes, some of it was directly your fault, but you were achingly, astonishingly lonely, with an ever-lowering threshold for tolerance of outside stimulation, ultimately feeling like you didn’t belong here.)

Pens aligned. Coaster. Check the school email for—good, no emails. No voicemail. Get out your planner and write your hours in it to look busy. Hey, your water bottle’s nearing empty; maybe you could go fill it or even waste time brewing coffee. But where’s your work mug? You probably left it on the cleaning rack next to the office sink. You should go check.

“Hey,” said Aizawa out of nowhere, ignoring how you jumped out of your own skin, “Good morning. Are you doing a specific job at the moment?”

You gripped the arms of your swivel chair to ground yourself. Is this a test? “I was about to take a moment to make some coffee,” you said, because never let someone in a position of authority know that you were doing jackshit, “Is there something I can help you with, Aizawa-sensei?”

Frowning, he dipped his chin into his capture weapon, still tucked closely to his neck to shield him from the wind, and he shifted his weight to one leg, his fingers tapping in a ripple on the reception desk. “You don’t have to call me that anymore.”

“I’m gonna,” you said, “How can I help?”

Please don’t need anything. Please don’t need anythi—

“Permission has just cleared for me to assign you a long-term task.”

Shit, you thought, internally wincing at how he used the term task and not mission, as if you’d be plunged into the ice-cold water of a panic attack at the word. The kid gloves that everyone handled you with somehow both ingratiated and insulted you.

“You’ll be paid for it,” Aizawa continued, “and it’s low stakes interaction, not even face-to-face. It’s all online.” Aizawa clasped his hands on the desk and hunched over the top of it, the ends of his scarf trailing down onto your keyboard. “You’ll recall moving some boxes into room 310.”

“Of course.” Early in your first month back at U.A., you’d helped clean out and move some boxes into 310 in the same hall that housed Aizawa, Eri, and now you—you’d unofficially dubbed it as U.A.’s drawer to shove social rejects. “Is someone about to move in?”

“He’s been moved in for a while,” said Aizawa, pulling his capture weapon away from his neck, “Keep all of this quiet. You’re allowed to know because I’ve advocated for you, because I trust in you and in your ability to do this well.” Aizawa paused, the silence dragging on much longer than usual. His eyes glazed over, as if considering how to phrase his next proposal.

You waved your hand, prompting him to continue.

His eyes focused again. “The new person is a ward of the school, but All Might and I are his primary—caretakers isn’t quite the right term, and nor is supervisors, so perhaps it’s better to—”

“No, I get it,” you said, “This person is an adult, but they’re not quite independent. Go on.”

Aizawa paused, brow furrowed just slightly as he scrutinised you again, but he nodded slowly after a moment. “I’ll allow him to introduce himself to you. He doesn’t need me to set up expectations. What’s important for you to know, regarding your own participation, is that he’s very new to the hero scene and is receiving his hero training later in life than usual. He won’t be attending class but will be trained personally by select U.A. faculty, mostly All Might, Nezu, and me.”

“Is he officially a student?”

 “On paper.” Something strange passed across Aizawa’s face, but you couldn’t name it. “Where you come in is his socialisation. He’s spent most of his life in disciplinary isolation. Because of the adults raising him, his instincts trend towards distrust and animosity.”

So, Aizawa wanted you spend time with him until he was no longer bad with people, like spending time with feral cats at animal shelters until they’re ready to be adopted. “So, he’s distrustful. Hostile. Angry,” you said, scratching the side of your head, “Is he—do you think he’ll bring up bad stuff I’ve done to use it against me?”

“He doesn’t know who you are, aside from someone trusted by U.A. with hero experience,” said Aizawa, shaking his head, “and you can choose what information you give him.”

“Does he,” you said, sucking in through your teeth, “Does this guy know about how you’re going about this? I think—wouldn’t he be insulted if he knew about how you’re socialising him like an animal?”

Aizawa looked over his shoulder at the empty office, but he bent farther over the desk and spoke softly, anyway. “Recently, when I was training him at night, he expressed that he never knows what to do when someone wants to talk to him after mission, whether it’s successful or not. He froze entirely when a senior citizen thanked him last week, and that’s when we decided something tactile needed to be done. Since he’s grown used to me, you’re the solution.”

Okay. A volatile man, someone who couldn’t go to U.A. at the average age but for whom Aizawa, Nezu, and All Might were making an exception, even going so far as to personally take him out at night to practise hero work.

Hm. Fishy.

But if the good, good men who took care of you wanted you take care of another misplaced person, then you’re going to do it to the best of your ability.

“I hope I can live up to your expectations,” you said, making a note in your planner, “What am I doing?”

“I need you to learn how to play a video game,” said Aizawa, “and I need you to be absolute shit at it.”

***

For you to help some loser with socialisation, he would be teaching you how to play some janky, twenty-five-year-old MMORPG called Cipherstone—and not even the current, polished version of it; you had to sign up for an account on the version preserving the game exactly as it was in 2007. Nostalgia reasons, apparently.

You nudged Dango out aside to check your bedside clock. The discord call would start in five minutes, and you were making your Cipherstone account, completely unable to come up with a suitable username.

“Don’t connect it to your other online accounts or your actual identity,” Aizawa had said that morning.

Dango’s tiny prance across your stomach was not helping, and you couldn’t use Dango in your username, because if someone knew about your cat (and hopefully no one did, because cats were not allowed in the dorms), then a Dango username could be linked back to the real you. You plopped your head back on your pillow, knocking against the headboard. What’s something that couldn’t be traced back to you? Slumping, you let your head fall to the side and sulked.

The hentai book peeked out from underneath a jacket on your dirty clothes chair.

GinsengTea

That username is unavailable.

Well. You couldn’t use your birthdate as added numbers. You kept typing.

GinsengTea69

That username is unavailable.

You’re not about to try Lustful Ballsack. Maybe if you put aside your secretarial propensity for being correct for a moment.

GinzengTea

Username available!

Oh, thank God. You sorted out your password and started customising your character, though you couldn’t do much with the negative six billion pixels you were dealing with, and oh, is that the noise discord makes for a call? You plugged in your earbuds and clicked the answer button.

“Hello?” you asked into the microphone on your earbud cord, narrowing your eyes at his profile picture of a rotund, cartoon mouse. Username Tenkopeito. Looks like he ran into the same spelling trouble you did.

“Greetings and salutations,” he said, his tinny, rasping, just-got-out-of-bed, gruff-from-lack-of-use voice striking you with about fifty psychic damage, “I am Aizawa-sensei’s pupil, here to teach you about the intricacies of Cipherstone. It will be my pleasure—”

“Cut that shit out,” you said, narrowing your eyes at his profile picture: actually, that mouse was so round because it had just swallowed an enormous piece of konpeito whole, with the little star spikes jutting out underneath its fur. “No one talks like that. You sound fake as fuck.”

“I see,” he said after a beat, tone deflating to sound resigned (and though he’d relaxed, it somehow sounded as if talking this way took more effort, like it physically strained his vocal cords). “Am I not supposed to be nice?”

“You weren’t exactly being nice. You were using a customer service voice—which is being polite, not nice. Not even kind. Politeness is usually some sort of put-on affectation of niceness, forced for the situation. I understand if that’s what you think you need to do when you talk to people as a hero, but in hero work, since the stakes are high, you need to be genuine, or at least sound like you are.” Dango crawled across your stomach again, but you lifted her off before she could settle into a loaf on your keyboard. “In the field, it’s often hard to be kind because of how involved you get as a hero; being kind takes effort and drains you emotionally. Kindness implies there’s some sort of reciprocity, some sort of ongoing relationship. You can choose to be kind if you want, but it may wear on you in the long run. What will probably be healthiest for you, on your side, is if you aim to be nice, meaning being honest in a gentle way, framing situations positively but realistically for listeners. The public doesn’t want to be lied to and told everything’s fine, but telling them the harshness of reality doesn’t go over well. Kills morale.”

“Holy shit.” He was scratching something close to his microphone—it must be a fairly good mic, since you could deduce short fingernails against a dry surface. “That’s…a lot.”

“It is. But you can do it. All it takes is practise, and that’s what I’m here for,” you said, moving Dango from your keyboard again, “And I didn’t mean to overwhelm you with all of that; it just came out—I, uh, I happen to know a lot about the way heroes present themselves.” Swallowing thickly, you ran your tongue over your lower lip. “Why don’t we begin with what you were saying before? But in the actual way you talk, please. You need to be comfortable in your own voice.”

His mic picked up the distant noise of slurping through a straw, against what sounded like the bottom of a metal cup, which clinked when he set it back down. “Have you played Cipherstone before?”

“Total newcomer. Though I’ve seen some screenshots in memes.”

“Cool,” he said in a way that was clear it was not cool, “I can’t add you to my in-game friends list until you get off Tutorial Island. Share your screen with me until then.”

All right. You can be bad at this. You can be so bad at this. “What’s a screen?” Not that bad, idiot! “I mean,” you said, fumbling, “How do I share my screen with you?”

The scratching grew louder. “Bottom left. Screen button. Right click. Share option.”

“Ah.” You should probably lure him into thinking you’re competent while there was a literal tutorial onscreen so that he would be more frustrated with you later. “Gotcha.”

For a few seconds after your avatar popped onscreen for the first time, nothing came through but the 8-bit tutorial music. “Is that what you look like in real life?” he finally asked.

“No,” you said, not exactly lying. The character had her hair down in her face (which you wouldn’t normally do when you were on patrol, since it could get in the way of physical hero work), and, hoping to endear yourself to this weirdo, you’d chosen the sluttiest shirt: while none of the horrible pixelated options showed any boob whatsoever, the poor rendering still managed to convey that the top was off-shoulder. Again, not great for hero work. “In real life, I’ve much, much more panache.”

Another silence, during which you assumed he was looking up the word. “So, you click on the screen to go where you want to walk, on either the overall game interface or in the mini-map in the corner. Your destination will show up—”

“Wait, what should I call you, screwboy?”

“—as a red flag,” he said, frown audible, his rasping voice screeching to a stop the way brakes are slowly applied to the wheels of a train. “Not screwboy.”

“I’m not calling you by your handle. Not only is it cringe, but you won’t have to answer to it anywhere else in your life. If you don’t want to give me your name, that’s fine. I could call you by your hero name, if you like; it’d help you get used to answering to it. But no, I’m not calling you your username,” you said, shoulders slacking once Dango finally settled in a ball at your hip, “Especially since you couldn’t even get the correct spelling of Ten Konpeito.”

“It’s—it’s not supposed to say that,” he said, sputtering with a groan coming in at the end, “It’s a play on my name, and including the n makes it harder to say aloud. I think these things through; I have to be aware of my public image and branding now; that’s the whole point of this stupid—my name is Tenko, you asshole.”

“Oh, you’re gonna call civilians asshole?” You clicked your tongue. “Bad. Bad and evil. Speaking from experience, people don’t like that.”

“Just fu—just click on the map.”

“Fine. But you can’t fool me with your medieval, point-and-click game,” you said, clicking to pick up a fishing net, “Incidentally, the oldest known fishing net is the net of Antrea, crafted of willow and dating back to 8300 B.C.”

Tenko paused. “What would be the socially expected response to that?”

Your avatar fished for shrimps. “Oh, usually people yell at me. Get mad for bringing up total non sequiturs. My friend Bakugou is fond of telling me that I’m a collection of those bottle caps with facts printed on the inside.”

“Would…would you like me to get angry? Am I supposed to? I was under the impression I was supposed to curb my anger. To be nice.”

Your inventory filled with shrimps.

“You only need one shrimp,” said Tenko.

“You’ll thank me when we have food later,” you said, continuing to fish for shrimps.

“It’s the tutorial,” he said, frown creeping into his voice, “You won’t keep any resources from it. You should go chop the tree down to light a fire.”

“Well, hell. I want my shrimps.” You clicked away from the fishing spot and onto a tree. “Nothing’s happening.”

Tenko cleared his throat. “You need to talk to the woodcutting tutor first. She’ll give you an axe.”

“I thought this game had magic,” you said, guiding Dango’s head away from blocking the screen, “Can’t I just get logs with magic?”

“No, it’s—you must want me to get angry. As a test.” Scratching. “Magic comes later. Not for getting logs.”

You interpreted that as a sign to make the rest of the tutorial go smoothly. You followed the instructions for a few silent minutes, proving to him that you could read, and when you reached the end of the tutorial, a wizard teleported you to the crossroads of a town centre.

“Ah,” you said, genuinely surprised as other players’ avatars, decked out in what must be high-level gear, dashed past, “I don’t know where I am.”

“You can turn your screen-sharing off now.” Tenko typed on what sounded like a mechanical keyboard. “I’m over here. I’ve got—by the fountain—white hair, all black clothes. I’m not—there you are.”

Dozens of other players were running past the two of you, the only bare, new players in the area. Tenko’s pixelated avatar waved at you. Cheeky bitch. He’s so poorly animated and so very 2007 that it gave no indication what he could look like in real life. But he’s chosen to have a black t-shirt as his default, so he has to be a slut.

You resisted the urge to ask to feel his pixelated bicep. “You don’t have any equipment. I thought you’ve played Cipherstone before?”

“My main account is max-ed out. I started a new account to grow at the same rate as you. Before anything else, notice where we are,” said Tenko, “We’re in the centre of the city of Renfield. Get familiar with it. Think of it as home. It’s where you’ll always come back to when you get lost.”

It’s a barely animated town centre, with a short path up the stairs to a castle door and a few market stalls split between fountains.

“I have no idea what that means, Tenko.”

“It means that—that,” Tenko said, and stopped.

You couldn’t stop grinning, biting at your lower lip to keep from laughing—he’d let out a flustered huff, sounding a little strangled, because you’d said his name for the first time—and, judging by how long this delicious silence was dragging on, Tenko was probably his given name, not the family name. Beautiful, really, that a guy his age (however old he was, but he’s at least the same as you, since he couldn’t attend U.A. at the usual time) could get this nervous over a woman calling him by his name.

Tenko recovered in a way that showed he didn’t: “It means that you are always able to cast one spell, regardless of magic level,” he said in a rush, “It is a homing spell that teleports you back to this spot, so even if you get lost, you can always get back to Renfield. You can teleport other ways, too, but that’s for another time, and I need a cup of coffee.” He inhaled sharply.

It's only the first day, so you should go easy on him. Let his moment of awkwardness go.

However, Aizawa gave you a mission.

Excuse you, a task.

“Do you plan on getting flustered every time a civilian calls you by name?” you asked, petting between Dango’s ears, “Or are you planning on avoiding as much publicity as possible by being an underground hero like Aizawa?”

“I don’t—they’re not going to—it’s different with you. I can already tell,” said Tenko (you froze, fingers curled into Dango’s fur), “because I’m going to have some sort of working relationship with you. I assume you’re here to stay.”

Putting it that way made your heartbeat throb around your ears. You decided you could ask directly. “Tenko’s your first name, then?”

“Yeah.” He must have covered his hand with his mouth, muffling his voice at first. “But people usually—people have been calling me something else.”

“Then I can call you something else, if you like,” you said, getting back to petting Dango behind her ears and resolving to treat him with the same tenderness—he must need it, since no one in his life knows him well enough to call him by his given name.

“No, I think you should,” he said a bit too quickly, “Call me that. Tenko. I’m tired of that other stuff. Click on something to keep from logging out, by the way. There’s a timer.” Mechanical typing noises. “No, Aizawa-sensei wants me to be better. Of all things, I need to learn to respond to my real name.”

You squinted at your screen, as if the methodical rise and fall of his avatar’s chest could betray how he was feeling. Something had to have happened to this guy to make him feel this way about such a basic part of his identity, to make other people avoid his real name so universally. Aizawa couldn’t’ve have assigned you this task just to socialise him; something else was unfolding here. How did you enter the equation? If you’re supposed to guide someone who’s also lost their direction in life, you’re a hell of a bad candidate.

But what if you fuck up Aizawa’s plan, whatever it was?

Your recent history is riddled with things going downhill. What if you somehow screwed over Tenko? You’d be dragging someone else down with you, down to…the beginning again, a humiliating re-start, back at your fucking school, when the rest of your friends were out living the dream you’d all crafted together, the dream that apparently could go on without you in it.

Well. Enough of that. Distract yourself. Distract Tenko, too. “Got it. I want a hat.”

“What?”

“I want a hat,” you said, clicking the space around the fountain for your avatar to walk, “My head is cold. How do we get a hat? Hats. You should get one, too.”

“Hats. Very well,” said Tenko, clicking to face you across the shitty fountain, “Do you want one that’s purely decorative or one that has some sort of stats? Decorative ones we can get within a minute, with good RNG, by killing goblins across the bridge. There’s a low chance we could get a low-tier wizard’s hat doing that, too.”

“Then it will be a pleasure killing goblins with you, Tenko.”

“Mm,” he said at the back of his throat, “First, we’ll need to obtain some sort of weapons, since bare-handed punching them will take forever. We could either talk to the melee tutor to get a temporary sword or start wi—actually, we should talk to the melee tutor. Melee will probably be the easiest fighting style for you right now, and it’ll be the simplest, since you won’t have to worry about running out of ammunition or runes.”

“Sure,” you said, leaning back in bed, “Do we go starboard or port?”

“You can just call them east and west, y’know. And we go north.”

To be obstinate, you clicked the opposite direction that Tenkopeito was going, and the moment you ran offscreen, Tenko spoke in a low, grumbling voice into his microphone. “No, don’t run away from me. Come back here.”

The rumble in his voice shot warmth straight to your lower stomach, the nature of the encounter between the two of you changing in a second. Your avatar kept running to her destination, your hand frozen and hovering above the tracking pad. You blinked, your throat drying. Snapping back into it, you ran back to Tenko, who seemed unaware of what he just did to you—and he almost negated your arousal in the way he kept talking about sword upgrades and something called RNG.

Uh.

“—now, it’ll take about ten minutes, but it’ll seem like two hours of hard labour. Follow me across the bridge. Follow—there’s a follow mechanic, if you’ll right-click on me.”

Oh, you’ll right-click him, all right. You needed to know more about Tenko—why you’ve been paired off, what Aizawa’s planning for him, what—a tinge of shame soured at the back of your tongue, because what currently gripped you were minutiae: more about him, what he looks like, what he likes, what he does for fun, if you’re…the sort of person he’d get along with in real life, if you hadn’t been forced together.

God, get over yourself. You spend two months away from men your age, and now, you’re thirsting over someone you don’t even know because he said one hot thing. You needed to be socialised—no, stop. This isn’t about you. Stop thinking about what his hands would feel like on you, what he’d sound like grunting into your ear as he ground against you—

“You’ve been quiet for a minute,” said Tenko, slashing the first goblin, “Are you all right?”

A very heroic question when you haven’t been thinking too heroically. The thought of his voice muttering against your neck still grasped you tightly. “I’m having—technical difficulties.”

***

Poking your head outside of your dorm/apartment door, you scanned the hallway for witnesses. You gripped the handle of Dango’s carrier, still hidden behind the door inside your dorm, and you nodded back at her when she meowed at you.

“I know, baby,” you said, listening for footsteps, “We’ll be outside soon enough. Gotta check for people, though.”

Okay, nothing coming. You shifted Dango’s carrier out of your dorm and pulled out your key, sticking it in the lock at the same time as a door opened down the hall.

Too fast—you had to prod her carrier back inside, your foot stuck in the crack between wall and door, just as—as Midoriya strode down the hall. Keys jangling. Civilian clothes (a Froppy hoodie, in fact).

“Oh, hello!” Midoriya only seemed to notice you once you were struggling to close the door despite the carrier being the way, and hopefully you thrust it fully inside swiftly enough for him not to catch the flash of burgundy. He trotted up to you, hands in the pockets of his worn cargo pants. “I didn’t think you’d be around. Do you not have work today?”

Dango meowed mournfully through the door, and you stepped in front of it. “It’s my lunch break. I’m going for a walk.”

Midoriya nodded, and he glanced over his shoulder back to the room he’d left. “Gotcha, gotcha. Good weather for it, especially after that storm earlier this week.” easy smile stretched across his face as he faced you again, but his gaze weighed down on you, as if the number one hero’s attention magnified your failures in comparison to his rise to the top—and the fact that he didn’t mean to pressure you only exacerbated the feeling.

“Uh,” you said, stuffing your keys in your backpack and setting it on the ground, as if you’re not waiting to go back inside, “May I ask what you’re doing here? Don’t you have better—aren’t you busy?”

Chuckling, Midoriya scratched the back of his neck (and oh, in that laughter, he was hiding something). “I make time. I’m just visiting,” he said, jerking his head back towards the end of the hall, “A friend. I want to take care to see him regularly. I didn’t know you lived on the same hall.”

“If you can call it living,” you said, and for some reason, Midoriya frowned, took a step closer to you, and said your name under his breath, eyes fucking wide and too damn concerned for your comfort. Fuck, you only meant to make a self-depredating joke, not make the situation serious. 

“You—you know that you can reach out to us. I mean that. If you’re scared you’re gonna burden any of us—”

You’d squatted down to go through your bag, just to have something to do, to have an excuse to not look him in the eyes. If you were going to cry—which you were not!—then the number one hero’s not going to get to witness it.

“—then reach out to me, at least. I’ve got time, or else I can make it.” Midoriya was kneeling next to you, and you kept your eyes on the inside of your backpack. “If it makes you feel less like you’re bothering any of us, I could check in with you when I come see my friend. I’d already be on campus. I wouldn’t be going out of my way.” He sighed to fill the space when you didn’t answer. “What are you looking for?”

“I can’t find my planner,” you invented, and, acting like you were upset, you zipped your backpack again. “I think I need to go back inside to locate it.”

He shifted his jaw, and he glanced down at your bag and back at you. “Come with me to the vending machines, at least?”

The new symbol of peace, asking to spend time with you. You didn’t deserve it, so you shook your head. “I don’t have much time left in my break. I think I’d better let you go.”

Shifting his jaw, Midoriya tilted his head at you, his eyes glinting. “All right,” he said slowly, “You know yourself better than anyone else. Do what you need to. Rest up.” He started walking backwards towards the stairs. “And I want to see you more—we all do. I’ll see you the next time I come around. Maybe the three of us could hang out?”

“Sure,” you said, shoving your key in the lock to let a thrashing Dango out of her misery.

***

“The church. It’s the one with the altar icon in the minimap.”

You clicked enough so that your avatar would backtrack. “How am I supposed to know that’s the church? Is that icon supposed to be an altar? It looks nothing like an altar. It looks more like a steaming cup of tea.”

“That’s fair,” said Tenko into his headset, “but this is the easiest quest in the game. How are you having this much trouble with it?”

“Oh, stop that,” you said, reaching his character in front of the priest, “It’s intuitive to you because you’ve been playing this for years. Do we kill this guy?”

“What? No. He’s going to give us each the key to a dungeon underneath the church.”

“How can he give us both a key if there’s only one?” You clicked through the dialogue with the priest, and a key appeared in your inventory. “Also, how accurate is this dungeon? Because if this is a broadly medieval game, then the dungeons will be closer to underground bathrooms rather than, like, creepy and wet with shackles and bones. That was popularised by Walter Scott’s Ivanhoe.”

“How the hell do you know that,” Tenko asked flatly, “Ne—never mind. It doesn’t matter. Follow me to the trapdoor outside.”

You did, and it was locked. “Are we allowed to do this?” you asked, clicking on the key and then the lock, “Will we get arrested for trespassing?”

“Wha—no. No, we’re supposed to in order to progress the quest. In fact, our characters do a frankly criminal amount of breaking and entering throughout the game and never get checked for it. Hey, don’t go down there without me.”

Your character had only just gone down the trapdoor, prompting a blackout loading screen, but you popped back up to the surface before you could get a good look around. Your character stood next to Tenko’s, still next to the trapdoor. “What’s the holdup? I thought the only step was to use the key on the door. Did I skip something?”

“No, I—huh,” said Tenko, cutting himself off with a tinge of frustration creeping into his voice, “I lost the key.”

Raising a brow, you tilted your head. “What? How’d you lose it?”

“I don’t know. It was in my inventory one minute, and now it’s not. I didn’t touch it.” His mic picked up light scratching. “You’re not supposed to be able to lose the key, but I guess I can go back to the priest to get another. You wait—”

“Hold up,” you said, brow furrowed, “I have it. It’s in my inventory.”

“The hell? Are you sure it’s not just your own key?”

“Positive. I have two of them now. Same key, right next to each other. Want me to share my screen?”

“No, I—I believe you.” Tenko took a moment. “I’m not familiar with this sort of glitch, where an item from one player’s inventory randomly transfers to another’s. This doesn’t even happen, in my experience, but maybe it’s because this is one of the earliest quests coded into the game. It’s twenty-five-year-old code at this point, and it might have glitched because we’re both trying to perform the same quest actions on the same game tick.”

“Sure,” you said, “So, what do I do? Do I drop the key for you to pick up, or?”

“It disappears if you drop it. Trade me. Right-click, trade option.”

Once the key was traded, the two of you went down the trapdoor and wove your way back into the underground headquarters of a low-level cult, vacant for the moment but with evidence of rituals on the walls and floors, particularly in front of their bloodstained altar.

“Okay, we’re in their headquarters,” you said, making your character walk up the aisle, “What now? Priest guy didn’t give us any instructions.”

His avatar followed you and sat on the only programmed-to-be-sittable seat in the pew, his black cape (that he stole from a highwayman’s corpse) folding under his legs. “Actually, he did. You just clicked through his dialogue.”

“Because you’re here to tell me what to do, Quest Man.”

“Click on the—” Tenko heaved an enormous sigh, microphone sparking. “You figure it out. What’s clickable in this room? What has examine text?”

You hovered your mouse over most of the room, and nothing popped up with the examine option, except for something on the altar. “It’s this weird-looking, severed hand, isn’t it? This thing standing up on a slice of wrist by itself?” Your character walked nearer to it, fingers splayed widely enough to hold an in-game apple. “Weirdest ring-holder I’ve ever seen.”

When Tenko didn’t say anything, you glanced towards his character, but he was still sitting on the pew.

“Is this whole quest a pun? Because it’s one of the easiest quests, so they’re giving us a lot of guidance, so it’s like they’re holding our hands to get it through?”

That broke his silence: he scoffed into the mic. “I doubt it,” he said, “You need to grab the hand for the quest to keep going.”

“Fine,” you said, clicking the hand, and the instant your avatar touched it, a zombie spawned from the altar and began to attack you. “Dude! Did you know that thing was gonna jump me?” you asked, clicking away a few spaces but turning around to stab at it with your stupid bronze dagger, “And you just sat there? You could’ve warned me.”

“I did, and the priest did, and the duke who gave us this quest did. That’s why we went and baked all those pies in your inventory, yeah? For you to eat during this fight?”

Your character kept missing hits. “Yeah, but—like! I didn’t know the fight would be now.”

“Hey, relax.” Tenko’s voice sounded muffled, like his mouth was smushed as his fist dug into his cheek. “It’s only a level 12, and you’re level 9. Not too big of a difference. With your armour and weapon, you out-level it.”

The miss sound effect spoke for itself.

“You’ll kill it eventually. You won’t always hit zeroes, so it’ll pass.”

Though your character dealt her first damage, you frowned. “That’s…that’s actually really good advice, Tenko. The stuff you just said would work well if you were trying to calm someone down—reminding people of reality and emphasising perseverance over luck or natural talent are some of the better ways to encourage people.”

“Is that so,” he asked flatly, trying to put off a yawn and failing, “I haven’t—I wasn’t thinking about hero work. Just thinking about the game.”

“Well, it was nice,” you said, “and it seemed like it came naturally. Mind if I ask if something caused it?”

He yawned again, but he must have leant away from the mic so that you wouldn’t hear anything besides the initial inhale. “Nothing special happened today, but I’m too tired to get irritated. Therapy took a lot out of me today.”

Therapy. Therapy. Okay, so he’s got an official diagnosis somewhere. The word today implies that it’s a regular thing, and for some reason, this session was more intense. Intense emotionally? Physically? What kind of therapy? Well, they offered cognitive behavioural therapy on campus, but considering his non-traditional student status, his might be outsourced. Plus, if you, a former hero but technically a civilian, are being implemented into his care plan without being informed directly—

“You usually don’t go this long without saying some inane non sequitur,” said Tenko, that same, strange scratching picking up on the mic, “Snap out of it. You’re gonna get killed by the easiest quest boss in the game.”

Making an undignified noise, you shook yourself and spam-clicked on a cherry pie for your character to eat until she was healed completely, and then you clicked on the zombie to attack again.

“Why’d you pause when I said therapy? Surprised I’d go? Think that sort of thing is below me?”

“Of course not,” you said, trying to seem like you were focused on the fight so that he wouldn’t get nervous about sharing personal information, “Therapy good. Therapy great. Everyone needs to go to therapy.” Since he appeared to be taking this casually, you could probably ask after the type without it seeming too intrusive. “What kind? CBT? That’s what—”

“You think U.A. would arrange for me to get my cock and balls tortured? That wouldn’t qualify as therapy for me, certainly, and there’s no way that U.A. would pay for—”

“Not fucking cock-and-ball torture, you muppet; cognitive behavioural therapy. The sitting-down-with-therapist-to-talk-about-your-trauma-and-restructuring-the-way-you-think-through-practise type. You fuckin’ pervert,” you said, grinning at his avatar onscreen.

“Good to know. I didn’t know the name for it.”

“It’s good that you made this mistake with me instead of with Aizawa-sensei.”

“He’s probably more inclined towards bondage. Congratulations on killing your first boss,” said Tenko, and you blinked in surprise at your character: you’d defeated the zombie while staring at him. It fell to the ground, dropping bones and some sort of arrows.

“Take those. Check to see if they’re iron or steel. All right, equip them in your ammo slot for now so that they don’t take up an inventory space.”

You did so. “Why didn’t it attack me with the arrows if it were holding them?”

“There’s no logic to it besides that arrows are on its drop table. It’s coded to attack by punching you in the face, which doesn’t involve arrows.”

“Sure. Now, let’s get out of the cult basement; I wanna bake more pies until we can make apple ones. Did you know that the first record of fruit pies was around 1600? That means these fruit pies are anachronistic, since this game pitches itself as medieval.”

“Is that…” The hesitance had you beaming, daring him to actually ask it. “Is that not medieval?”

“Tenko, get your head out of your ass. For reference, 1600 is arguably the year the Azuchi-Momoyama period ended and the Edo period began. The game frames itself as medieval European, and 1600 is hard Renaissance-slash-Early-Modern. That’s Shakespeare times, screwboy.”

Only silence on your headphones. Character still on the pew. You made your character walk over to his to perform the curtsy emote, and in real life, you frowned. “Did I go too far there? Bit too annoying? I’m really sorry if I’m bothering you with this sort of thing; my friends say that I—”

“Nothing’s wrong. I needed a moment,” came Tenko’s voice, quiet and steady, “I could hear you smiling, and it was—it was good.”

Inhaling sharply, you pressed a fist to your mouth. Great. Fucking fabulous. Goddammit, you hadn’t aimed for it to go this way, but were you now the one getting flustered at something as simple as—

“Do most people consider a long pause in conversation rude? Did I fuck up with that?”

“No! No, of course not,” you were saying, trying to recover but still startled at how he was able to flip the vibe of your conversations in so few words, words that seemed so casual to him but grabbed you by the throat/cunt, “Especially since you followed-up with a check-in of how it might be strange; a lot of times, people will be comforted by checking to see if something’s okay with them personally…”

Frowning, you trailed off when another avatar entered the cult’s sanctuary and strode up the aisle. You hovered over the new guy’s stupid frog mask to see his username was Venomothman.

“Fucking great,” grumbled Tenko, “Here comes someone else to break our immersion. Ignore him. I’ll go ahead and fight the zombie so that we can get out of here.”

“The zombie’s dead. You don’t have to fight him,” you said, as Venomothman sat directly on top of Tenkopeito, with both avatars glitching as they took up the same space on the pew.

Tenko made some sort of noise in the back of his throat. “No, I have to kill it, too. It’s like each of us is the only one doing the quest, so in your version, the evil has been defeated, but in my version—it’s this thing called an instance—”

Venomothman: wow a couple questing together

Venomothman: bet ur one guy on two accounts

Venomothman: roleplaying that he can get a gf

The new guy’s in-text chat appeared in yellow font above his avatar’s frog-faced head, and somehow, the boggly, green eyes made his words more irritating.

Venomothman: leave the basement sometimes ya incel

“Some people are assholes recreationally,” said Tenko, making his avatar stand to go to the altar as the clatter of mechanical typing came through the mic, “Let me get rid of this fucking scumba—wait.”

 Venomothman: ur doing too much work to stare at pixelated ass

“Would it be correct for a hero to insult someone online?”

You shrugged, even though he couldn’t see it. “Eh. You’re not on duty, and you’re not under any persona connected with your public branding. I would say go for it, but since you’re trying to be better with people, you may want to practise.”

Venomothman: somehow this is even more pathetic than never knowing the touch of a woman at all

“Then I’ll shut him down. The shit-talking isn’t bothering me so much as his breaking our immersion in the game,” said Tenko, grabbing the hand on the altar to start his instance of the fight, “I’m trying to cultivate a particular experience for you, and he’s a fucker who won’t stop yapping. Give me a second.”

Venomothman: is this what does it for you??

Venomothman: why no response

Venomothman: hard to type with one hand, isn’t it, ******* shithead

You laughed through your nose. “Cipherstone censors the word fuck?”

“It censors fuck; it censors cunt,” said Tenko, avatar casting a weak air spell at the zombie, slowly, slowly draining its health, “Everything else is fair game.”

“Will it censor variations of cunt? Like, if I typed in cuntbag? Or—actually, let’s find that out later,” you said, tapping the buttons on your earbud cord to turn up the volume, “Let’s practise navigating difficult social interactions. What’s our goal here in this conversation? Is it to continue to engage?”

“No.” His spell missed, and the zombie landed a hit on his character, prompting him to eat half of a pie. “It’s to close the interaction. Therefore, I need to say something concise that invites no response, right? I’m assuming that a simple fuck off is unacceptable.”

“You’re getting better at this, y’know?”

“Is that condescension I detect?”

“Only a little.” You slumped back against your headboard and reached for the bottle of water on your bedside table. “Actually—no. No condescension. Genuinely, Tenko, you’re picking up on this stuff easily, and it’s impressive. You’ll be able to walk little old ladies across the street with style and flair in no time.” 

“Hilarious,” he said, voice restrained and tight at the mention of his name (too easy—he gives himself away aurally so freely; who knows what you could read off of him when you had a visual?), “I’m sure no one wants me touching them. Can I—hm.” He sounded like he was pressing his fist against his face somehow. “Why you keep bothering to compliment me? Most people bitch down to me like I’ve spat my own cum in their coffee.”

“Wha—how about because you deserve to be complimented? Listen,” you said, electing to brush over his vivid simile, “Silent admiration rots. By keeping in appreciation or gratitude, you’re not doing anyone any good. Kind regards are meant to be shared. Like, now, if I held back any positive thoughts concerning your growth, then you might not feel encouraged to keep going.”

“Like I’m gonna go around fucking complimenting ev—”

“I’m not saying you have to,” you said, “but consider trying it more often. See if anything turns out better. And be sure to be sincere about it—obviously.”

“This is bullshit.”

“Just consider it. So. What has he told us about himself based on how he’s insulted you?”

“He’s so low-level that it looks like he just created his account. His stats are even lower than ours,” said Tenko, speaking more quickly now that it was a subject he was more comfortable with, unequipping his wand to punch the zombie instead, “But he’s gone out of his way to get the frog mask.”

“His words, Tenko,” you said, unscrewing the cap and doing your fucking darndest to pinch your mouth from smiling at his slight hitch when you said his name, “I’m trying to get you to notice on whom he looks down and what that means for his personal social status.”

“Right,” he said a bit too quickly, a bit of a break in his voice on the word, “He’s debasing me for—oh, you’re brilliant. How the hell do you notice these things? He’s using basement dweller as insult, meaning he considers himself above that. Leave it to me.”

You muted yourself briefly to glug down water; you didn’t know how sensitive the mic was on your earbuds, but considering that you could catch onto Tenko’s occasional rustling of what sounded like plastic bags on his side or typing on his mechanical keyboard, as he was right now, you would prefer not to be emitting the same.

Tenkopeito: Your mom wishes you would come out of your room to talk with the rest of the family more often

You spluttered into your water bottle as the yellow text appeared above his head, and you unmuted yourself. “That is not what I meant for you to—”

“Was I being mean?” The mic caught the creak of Tenko’s chair as he leant back in it, and you could picture him defensive and pouting as he crossed his arms (and it struck you that you couldn’t imagine his face. Grimacing, you bit the inside of your cheek). “I wasn’t being rude. I could be so much crueller, but I thought this would be more of a devastating blow. Living on the same floor as your family isn’t the same as living in the basement, so I’m acknowledging his level of social power while still demeaning—”

Venomothman: i mean you right

Venomothman: lmao how tf did you know it was me

“I think we should log out,” you said, wiping the water off of your chin with the back of your hand and setting the bottle back on the bedside table.

Over Tenko’s microphone, you heard the shrill pitch of a custom ringtone and a startled but violent shuffle at the noise. “Hold on. I’m getting a call,” he said, voice coming through at a distance, as if he’d knocked his mic aside.

“Oh? Who is it?”

It took him a minute, but Tenko eventually replied, “A friend.”

That must be a damn good microphone, because you could still pick up on Tenko’s side of the conversation a few feet away. “Yes, hello?” he asked, a bit more brusquely than you’d heard him before.

“Oh. I didn’t,” he was saying, “How was I supposed to know that you’d—yes, that’s her. The one working with Aizawa-sensei.”

Very nice, you were thinking, as you unlocked your own phone to check your messages. Very good for him to have friends. Not that you would’ve pegged him as the absolute loner type, because he proved to be adaptable and quick on his feet, but since Aizawa’d recruited you for interpersonal help, you’d considered that he may not have friends. So, good on him for having at least one friend, it seemed, who cared enough to create an account on some stupid video game solely to annoy him.

“—cool of you to make an account to hang out with me. Stop fucking laughing; I am trying to be kind to you, shitstain. Okay. I don’t know. I haven’t been in contact with him in the past two days. I’ve been busy. Let me check.” Tenko leant back towards the mic to address you. “Do we have a schedule for the rest of the week? For instance, are we doing this again on Thursday?”

“I thought we were,” you said, scanning your room for your planner so that you could check your calendar, “Did something come up?”

“It’s not imperative that I go,” Tenko was saying into your ear, while you picked up your laptop to walk over to your U.A.-issued desk, “but another friend who’s been out of town will finally be back then. We might hang out.”

“Psh, go with your friends,” you said, delighted that he had more than one (fighting envy that it was so easy for them to meet up), “We can do this another time.”

“Understood,” Tenko said and backed away from the mic.

Venomothman: so have you sucked his dick yet

Tenko’s incensed shout of “Touya!” had you turning down the volume.

Venomothman: not to be the world’s worst wingman, but my dude is packing. and goes commando all the time.

Venomothman: and i would know. “i” sometimes “did” our “laundry”

You: what’s with all those quotation marks

Venomothman: and do you know the last time it was sucked? never

(Fucking hell. This Touya was walking you back into forbidden territory: the sexualisation of Tenko. After that first session, when you’d been turned on by his confident, rumbling voice as he’d given you an order, you’d felt guilty for sexualising him for the rest of the night. It was as if instead of friend-zoning him, you’d sex-zoned him, only able to see him as a sexual person/object. For the sake of your mission task, that felt unfair.

Or maybe you weren’t even sexualising him. Maybe your brain was appropriately interpreting what he���d done as sexual.

Whatever. Something in your gut was begging you not to see Tenko only through romantic or sexual lenses right now, and you couldn’t explain why.

And talking about Tenko’s apparently massive dick was not helping.)

Tenkopeito: Touya if you don’t ******* shut up I am going to tear off your other arm

Venomothman: no need, boss man

You heard Tenko sigh and say into his phone, sounding exhausted, “I’m not your boss anymore, Touya.”

Venomothman: no need, douchebag

***

Draped over the side of your bed, you dangled a shoelace in front of the gap in an attempt to coax Dango out from underneath. “Dango, sweetie,” you said, whipping the shoelace to the side, “Come out here so that I can look you in the eyes. Where is my planner, you whore?”

At a firm knock on your door, you shot up, dropping the lace. “Never mind,” you said, sliding off the bed, “Stay hidden.”

You opened your door on Aizawa, bare arm raised in mid-knock, wisps of hair plastered to his forehead by dried sweat, and a sweatshirt tied around his waist. He took two seconds to look over you before saying, “Get dressed. Civilian clothes. You have three minutes.”

Throwing on yesterday’s outfit, you rushed to follow Aizawa out of the dorm and off campus, nearly stepping on his heels while he wove through night pedestrians, pulling on his own sweatshirt to minimise skin contact once the crowd thickened.

You flipped up your coat collar to sneak a glance over your shoulder. “Is this a test?”

Aizawa combed his fingers back through his hair, gaze straight ahead. “Not for you.”

“Right.” You stepped more lightly, naturally falling back into patrol patterns: noting exits (narrow alleyways favouring the left side, underground into the subway station), checking vantage points (upper-storey windows in the resident buildings, non-industrial rooftops), honing in on light sources (yellow- and LED-tinted streetlamps, ambience from open businesses) and physical presence (close enough to brush shoulders with passerby [putting you on edge, because the slightest touch could be pivotal]). You had to consciously unclench your jaw, body flooded with stress it hadn’t felt in months. Swiping at the inner corner of your eye, you asked, “Does it have anything to do with the guy in the black hoodie and face mask following us?”

Aizawa laughed through his nose, once. “All right, then. What’s that ice cream place you and Shinsou went to all the time? Take us there.”

Bewildered, you changed directions to head towards Nekozawa’s, with Aizawa placing a hand on your shoulder to slow your pace, and by the time you pushed open Nekozawa’s glass door to the glowing, pink parlour, you were prepared to hold it open for your follower in the face mask. You watched his broad back as he ordered some ungodly, radioactive-blue ice cream with gummy bears before retreating to a table outside despite the dropping temperature, and Aizawa gestured you forward so that he could pay for the three of you.

Holding your ice cream, you hesitated at the door, swaying underneath the seasonal cat decorations dangling from the ceiling.

“Go on,” said Aizawa, retrieving the U.A. card from his wallet, “I’ve got to make a phone call, so don’t wait up. Don’t be too harsh on him; we’re here because he did a good job in the field today. Tailing you was extra practise.”

Nodding, you nudged open the door, bracing yourself at the cold, night air, and let it drift shut behind you as you approached the table, the farthest one from the pink lights.

Hood pulled up, Tenko bent over his blue monstrosity, face mask hanging by a loop over his left ear. Scuffing your boots on the concrete to announce your presence, you sat across from him, setting your cup on the cast iron before swinging your leg over the bench. You managed a cursory glance over what appeared to be a sketchbook before he closed it, and once he’d stowed it away, he swopped his spoon to his dominant hand to keep eating.

“You draw, Tenko?” To make him feel more comfortable, you kept your gaze towards Aizawa inside on the phone. “Do you think you’re any good?”

“Not yet. But I’m gonna be,” he said, clicking his pen and clenching it in his left hand, “I’ve got all these fucking artist’s gloves, so I might as well put ‘em to use.”

“Very nice,” you said, nodding, closing your eyes as you dipped your spoon into your ice cream, “But as a reminder, you don’t have to be good at something to enjoy it. I love doing stuff I’m absolute shit at. It reminds me of medieval bestiaries. They didn’t know shit about animals, but, boy howdy, did they have fun illustrating them. Did you know a weasel used to be called a polecat?”

Tenko huffed, his face mask fluttering. “It really is you.”

“Of course it is,” you said, beaming, and for the first time, you looked at him.

Tension flooded your teacup of a body and overflowed into the saucer and onto the floor. Heightened by the cold, a vein on the back of your hand strained and pulsed visibly, and, jaw locking, you lunged over the tabletop to grab him by the shoulders, shaking him.

“What the hell is wrong with you‽” You climbed over the table, pushed his ice cream out of the way (he shot out a hand to save it from toppling off the table, and he ripped off his face mask to set it aside before it fell to the ground), and planted your foot on his thigh and your elbows on his chest, caging him in as you forced him flat on the bench. “Why the fuck are you using your real name in your fucking Cipherstone username, you fucking moron‽ People could fucking track you!”

The man who had been Shigaraki Tomura eyed your fists in his hoodie and then his cup of ice cream. “You didn’t have a problem with it before.”

“I—” This idiot! “I didn’t know it was you. There are a lot of Tenkos.”

“Then there’s my logic,” he said, hands dangling by his sides, making no attempt to touch you—you didn’t know if you appreciated it or not. “I thought you knew who I was.”

“No, I fucking—I would have given you advice that was more specific to you, over the spiel I was giving interns.” Releasing your grip on his hoodie, you sat back up and scooted over on the tabletop. Though you wanted to keep holding him, to hug him after all he’s been through, he probably wouldn’t want that. “I’m—sorry about tackling you. I, uh—fuck,” you said, and, grimacing, you slid his ice cream back to him and reached across for your own, pretending with everything you’ve got that it was perfectly normal that you were sitting on a table next to Shigaraki Tomura, who’s been teaching you to play a video game, who’s apparently living at the end of the hall, who’s decorated his door with Eri’s silver tinsel for Christmas, who’s banned from drinking caffeine, who could rest his fucking head on your thigh if he wanted. Normal. Yeah.

“Again, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to keep doing that,” he said, fishing out a gummy bear like you hadn’t lunged at him, “Your reaction was reasonable.”

“It—it wasn’t, really,” you said, laughing nervously, “I wasn’t expecting you. I mean, no one knows what—what happened to you. Afterwards. It was really unclear.”

“It was that way on purpose,” said Tenko, “It was thought to be better to emphasise the total destruction of All for One instead of whatever happened to his leftovers.” He shifted a bear to his back molars to bite into the frozen gummy better. “Nezu-sensei decided it was better to keep it muddled for now.”

Muddled was a good way to put it. There’d been so much chaos at the end of the war that so much never was accounted for. You’d think that the location of Shigaraki’s body would be high on the list, but satisfaction was found simply in the splintered, spectacular remains of AFO. Shigaraki’s name wasn’t cleared, per se, but in the aftermath, Midoriya especially stressed that yes, Shigaraki committed atrocities, but he’d been abused, groomed, and literally bodily possessed by AFO to think that way. Didn’t excuse him, but wasn’t entirely his fault.

The locations of the other PLF members—well, the core of the League, really—were public, if not vague. Spinner was in the States at a rehab that specialised in heteromorph trauma; Toga was at a local women’s facility called Sakura Grove, and Dabi was living with his family—he must have been that Touya on the phone, holy shit.

So, here he was, sitting on the bench at the same ice cream parlour you visited with the same friends who fought him, hunched over in oversized, black clothes you suspected were Aizawa’s, broad shoulders and faded scars out of place in the pink lights, white hair pulled back in a blunt ponytail with his bangs flopping over his forehead, seemingly unbothered by the toe of your boot pressing against his denim-covered thigh.

God. He’s scratched at his neck so much that it looks like he’s been beheaded with a blunt axe.

Tenko’s eyes flickered up to you, their colour deepening to crimson in the tinted lights. “So. You’ve got questions.”

“Are you okay?”

Tenko swallowed with effort, scowling. “Don’t start with a hard one.”

“Right,” you said, throat drying, “Who knows you’re staying at U.A.?”

“Faculty and staff. My therapist. The police force. The ramen shop Aizawa-sensei and I go to. The intensive rehab I was at before. The top of the hero commission. Touya, Touya’s father, Spinner, Toga. Eri and Midoriya,” he said, tongue swiping over his lower lip, “You.”

Somehow both fewer and more than you’d figured. “What exactly…is the situation? Aizawa-sensei was vague.”

“Officially, I’m like Eri: a ward of U.A. My old rehab thought I was good enough to live off their campus, so I’m back here, where I can be watched by people capable enough to bring me down if I go crazy again,” he said, brow furrowed as he traced the side of his cup with his spoon, “I should resent that, but it’s not like I have anywhere else to go, especially somewhere as comfortable as this. This is fucking stupid to say aloud, but fucking—fuckin’ All Might is the closest thing I have to family now, along with Midoriya.”

“I’m not following.”

“My grandma was the holder of One for All before All Might had it.” He pointed at you with his spoon. “So you can make the connection from there. But it’s stupid; I’m stupid—” He was shaking his head and staring into his lap. “—because it’s like I have a brother in Midoriya and a goddamn father in All Might—and then Aizawa-sensei’s acting like a dad, too, to me and Eri, and Nezu-sensei? Nezu-sensei is so fucking cool,” said Tenko, dragging his hand down his face, “He’s got a driver’s license! I don’t even have one of those. And he can type fucking 210 words per minute with those little rat paws, and I’m still getting used to using all five fingers, fuck.”

Cute. You scraped the bottom of your cup. “Hey, I think you type well.”

“Yeah, well, that’s why it takes me so long to reply in the in-game chat function. Why I prefer communicating over voice call. Learning new habits, and shit.” Tenko stabbed his ice cream with his spoon. “Nezu-sensei has arranged for me to train as an aftermath-clean-up hero. I had been—” His fingers on one hand circled the thumb of the other. “—in discussion with him in rehab about what I could do, and we decided I could consistently help when there’s collapsed buildings after attacks; I could dust the wreckage so that we could find hostages or make it easier to clean up and rebuild, and Aizawa-sensei and All Might-sensei have been working with me to control what parts of what I touch gets dusted so that I could create pitfall traps for holding criminals. It’s…going. It’s going,” he said, curling his lips in his mouth to moisten them, and with narrowed, determined eyes, he took another bite of ice cream, the blue staining the inside of his lips.

“Tenko, that’s a really cool application of your quirk. I hope you can find more,” you said, tilting your head and smiling down at him, “but—I have to ask—aren’t you tired?”

Tenko rolled his eyes. “Of course. You’re part of the group ensuring I don’t have caffeine.”

“No, I mean,” you said, shaking your head, “I mean, you don’t have to be perceived as useful. You’re—you’re just fine if you wanted to rest. You’re worthwhile just as you, not as—as a job, as a, I don’t know, a redeemed hero or anything. You can just be Tenko.”

“I know. My therapist keeps reminding me. But one of the most vivid memories I have from when I was living in that house,” said Tenko, sneering, “is that I desperately wanted to be a hero and that I would pretend to be one a lot. While I’m aware that I can never atone for what I’ve done, if I did nothing but rest, I’d be alone with my thoughts. And with what I’m learning to do, as a hero, someday, someone might…need me. Need my help. I imagine that’s a good feeling.”

You sat back, leaning on your hands, the cast-iron pattern cutting into your palms, to survey him. “You’re very much re-writing my first impressions of you as my gaming buddy and as the post-war Shigaraki. You’re surprisingly well-adjusted.”

He snorted. “I shouldn’t think it’s surprising. I’ve had almost a year and a half in intensive rehab, and I’m still in therapy every day.” He started listing on his fingers, starting with his thumb. “I’m on antidepressants; I know where my next meal’s coming from and when I’ll get it; I consistently have a safe roof over my head, and I know my friends are getting that, too. I have mentors who care for me as a human person instead of as a tool. I get to stay in contact with my friends and get to make new ones,” he said, nodding curtly at you before quickly looking away, “I’m fucking away from that sadistic fuckface. He’s goddamn dead and burned away to nothing. That’s the main thing. Everything else is a bonus.”

Tenko sighed, bangs fluttering with the movement, his shoulders straining as he leaned onto both his elbows on the table. He sighed again and scooped the last gummy bear out of his cup, and you let the silence carry on while you finished eating.

“Long phone call,” Tenko said eventually.

An increasingly grumpy Aizawa was leaning against the glittery wall inside, phone between his ear and shoulder, and furiously scraping the inside of his ice cream cup.

“Yeah,” you said, “but it’s been good talking to you, Tenko. I really appreciate you telling me all of this.”

“I would’ve talked about it sooner, but I figured you knew who I was and didn’t want to address it,” said Tenko, tapping his fingers one by one on the table.

Pulling the collar of your coat closer to your neck, you frowned, hesitating on how to phrase it. You watched your breath cloud in the night air before settling on, “There’s an off-switch?”

Brow pinching very slightly, Tenko followed your gaze to his hand, with all five fingers coming to rest on the cast iron, and he tapped all five of them on it for emphasis. “Yeah. There always has been. All for One kept it from me. Power of belief kept me jittery and alert my whole life.”

“So long as you thought you’d destroy anything you touched, you would?”

He nodded. “That bitch.”

“Agreed. We should kill him.”

And Tenko laughed. Just for a moment, barely making any noise, but he smiled with his teeth, grin stretching across his face as he looked away and eventually closing his lips, the smile lingering for a few more precious seconds.

***

You closed your laptop to answer the phone at work, clearing your throat to ready your receptionist voice before you picked up. “U.A. University Administration; how may I help you?”

“I need you to fucking murder me,” Tenko spat through the phone, angry and panicked, “I need you to rip out my bones and suck out my guts through a straw. He fucking let me hold onto them, and I’ve fucking gone and lost such a fucking iconic piece of—”

“Tenko, please, take a breath,” you said, relaxing your customer service mode but clutching the phone to your ear, and after catching the eye of the woman with jars of strawberry preserves waiting to see Nezu, you slumped over in your seat so that she couldn’t see you over the desk’s overhang. “Tell me what’s wrong. We can fix it. Are you alone? Is everyone else busy? Do you need to come sit with me?”

“I—fuck,” he said, and you heard some deliberately slow breathing, but his voice still had an irate, twitchy edge afterwards. “During our practise patrol last night, Aizawa-sensei was talking about support equipment for me. I’d never given it much thought, because it’s always been just me and my hands. He leant me his Eraser Goggles for me to think about for my—and I don’t know where they fucking are,” he said, inhaling sharply on the last word, “I’d left them on my desk, but I’d taken them up to the roof to sketch them, and then I’d brought them back to my dorm—”

“And Aizawa-sensei must have swung by to pick them up since then,” you said, pushing yourself back to slide in your swivel chair to the back of the reception desk, “because he was here at the beginning of my shift to print something off, and the goggles are on top of the printer. Relax, Tenko.”

“Hooooooly fuck, you’re kidding,” said Tenko, audibly deflating, and you smiled to yourself as you slid their band around your wrist.

You kicked yourself back up to the front. “You’re okay. You’re not gonna get in trouble. I’ll bring them by at the end of my shift.” You sat up straight, and the strawberry preserves woman was shooting a concerned look in your direction. “I’m at work, though, so I think we’d better end the call soon. Anything else you need?”

Tenko hummed into the phone. “Not really. You can’t be that busy.”

You smiled again, feeling—feeling domestic, as if he were your boyfriend calling you during work hours. How strange, Shigaraki Tomura. How interesting. “Would you believe I was grinding in Cipherstone when you called?”

“And you don’t call yourself a gamer,” he said, clearing his throat multiple times, “What skills?”

“Woodcutting and firemaking,” you said, opening your laptop again, “Are you feeling under the weather? Your voice had a bit of a rasp there.” Sounded like his old voice for a moment.

“Further cementing that Aizawa-sensei’s right to be worried about you. He says your brain’s going haywire analysing any detail work you can get, because you’re not out in the field anymore,” said Tenko, clearing his throat again (?), “Am I your new project?”

“Tell me what’s wrong, lest I pick up some damn throat lozenges for you before I come home,” you said, and a voice in the back of your head screamed that that threat was extremely cosy and intimate, especially since you’re claiming both of you have a home in the same place—which, sure, you both lived on the same hallway, but so did Aizawa and Eri, and please shut up; Shimura Tenko needs a friend, not a lover right now. Besides, that stupid hallway wasn’t really home for either of you but was more like a temporary holding cell.

“Fine. I’ve been throwing up all morning.”

“Thank you,” you said, electing not to make a pregnancy joke, “Do you need to see Recovery Girl?”

“No, I’m used to it, and I’ve already talked to her about it. I threw up a lot out of anxiety and stress when I was growing up with All for One, and now I’m throwing up because my body can’t handle the amount of food it’s getting regularly, which is fucking ridiculous, since it’s still less than a normal person’s version of three meals a day.”

What. The fuck. How can he casually drop details of deep trauma like it’s nothing? How could AFO let a child keep vomiting out of stress for years and years and never interfere? Well. Yeah, he could. You supposed that Shigaraki’s voice, as you first heard it as the USJ incident, was the ultimate result of that heavy strain on his throat for years. Explains some things about his teeth back then, too.

God. If AFO weren’t dead, you’d strangle him. Keeping a child physically weak because he’d be easier to mould. It was known that AFO had been psychologically manipulating Shigaraki, but now that you thought about it, manipulating his physical growth would have served AFO, too, since he was planning to move into Shigaraki’s body.

And what did this guy do now that he’s got bodily autonomy? Oh. Just. Play some video games. Talk with his friends. Try out some new hobbies. Make crafts with Eri.

It’s a shame AFO didn’t have a grave, because you’d be skiving off work to drown it in acid.

“My stomach is killing me,” said Tenko, “I’ve got to hang up to drink something and go to sleep. Knock on my door when you get home. I want to start a new quest as soon as you finish work.”

Home. He’d said it, too. He probably didn’t mean it in the same, domestic way that you’d been entertaining, but it made your heart swell. “Okay, Tenko. See you then.”

***

His therapist had assigned him homework: go on a planned, public outing with a peer, and stay out for at least an hour.

It wasn’t exactly a picnic you were packing, you kept telling yourself, scooting behind Tenko to get to the spice cabinet in the dorm kitchen, because that’d be too close to a date rather than homework. But the two of you packed a meal to take, with Eri sitting on the kitchen counter while she nibbled at rabbit-cut apple slices, and she held the thermos of decaf tea in her lap until it was time to stow it away.

After a short train ride and a quiet walk through midtown, Tenko stopped you in front of the back gate to what appeared to be a restored, historical estate, judging by the golden shachihoko shibi on each corner of polished hip-and-gable rooftops of the extensively aristocratic—mansion? palace?—that you could make out in across the distance of its sprawling grounds, the immediacy of which was the excessively well-kept, traditional garden that you and Tenko were breaking into.

“Is this legal?” you asked as Tenko reached through the grate to unlatch the doorway.

“I have an in with the gardener,” he said, sweeping the gate open for you and gesturing brusquely for you to enter.

“No, that wasn’t a joke,” you said, taking the few steps inside, finding yourself planted onto a polished, level stepping stone, and staring down a squeaky clean tsukubai despite the thin layer of frost over the water’s surface as the whole bowl began to freeze, “You can’t be doing anything even vaguely illegal, Tenko.”

When you said his name, he closed his eyes, pausing for just a hair in his relatching the gate, before facing you and shifting the strap of his bag farther up his shoulder. “Prude. Yes, we have permission from the owner.”

He kept looking back over his shoulder at you as he led you through the gardens, hopping across stepping stones to pass over a carefully shaped brook that led to a tiny waterfall near stone lanterns, weaving through trellises with the wintry shells of wisteria vines and shaped evergreens. He tutted and rolled his eyes when you stopped at the waterlily-coated koi pond, its fish swimming and flicking their tails in the artificially heated water (for some, odd reason, what appeared to be a compact duck coop had been constructed near the pond’s edge, its wood new and un-bleached by the sun like the rest of garden décor). You’d been about to ask about it when Tenko had jumped out of his skin at the sound of a deer scare, bamboo tapping stone.

“Stop laughing,” Tenko said, cheeks burning (and you tried not to take too much pleasure in that, but you couldn’t help it).

“Oh, a sensitive boy, a delicate boy,” you said, grinning as you hopped onto the same stone as him, cool, clouding breaths mixing together in the proximity, and you yourself could feel heat rise to your face. “Nothing to be ashamed of. Good traits to have, actually. Means you’re feeling secure and comfortable in your surroundings, if you’re off-set that easily.” Feeling bold—it was the cold; it was how the proximity already flustered him; it was how his hands were full because of the bag; it was—whatever—you reached for his silly All Might scarf and re-tied the front, fluffing it up to cover more of his neck.

You made the mistake of making eye contact: full of caution, his eyes kept darting from your hands to your face, searching for something, his lips parted, otherwise completely fucking frozen.

Were you making him uncomfortable? You stilled, your fingers still in the fringe of his scarf, tension tightening in your chest and jaw (clenching).

Tenko noticed. And—and to this day, you can’t believe he fucking did this—he ran his tongue over his lower lip and lifted his chin, exposing more of his neck to you. He then was suddenly very interested in the koi pond, the ruddiness spreading from his cheeks to his ears.

Throat dry, you gave his scarf a final tug and patted it (?) to show (??) a job well done (???). “Yeah,” you said, smoothly, like a smooth person, like someone who adjusts scarves of hot, in-process-of-reformation villains on the regular, “Where are we going?”

Tenko spun on his heel and strode away, muttering what sounded like, “Right into my grave.”

You pretended not to hear it and let him lead you to the only building unattached to the main house: a small, traditional teahouse that had a recent addition to it in the back. The creak of the bamboo engawa when you climbed onto it was muffled underneath the bright pealing of windchimes strung across the covered porch. Tenko was already kneeling at the tearoom’s sunken fireplace inside, its handle carved into a fish, fiery as its kindling, and was unpacking the travel teacups from the bag as you closed the door behind you, shutting out the cold, enveloped by the comfortable heat trapped inside by the cushioned walls.

Tenko must have arranged for this space to have been prepared for you. A kotatsu with floor cushions was tucked near the fireplace, pre-heated, with two further space heaters in the unoccupied corners, cords trailing into what must be a hallway linking the traditional and modern rooms, the latter of which was shut off from view. Beside a red-tinted wooden dresser stood an oddly empty tokonoma, and instead of a scroll or painting, amidst bits of pieces of scotch tape hastily half-torn off the back was a shittily cut-out, paper heart.

Shaking your head, you took a step towards Tenko, and the floor chirped at you, freezing you in place.

“Yeah, I don’t know why they do that,” said Tenko, pushing on his knees to stand, “They just do.”

“These must be nightingale floors,” you said, crossing to the kotatsu, a bird under each step, “The chirping’s caused by the way the nails rub against the v-shaped clamps holding the floor together. Have you been to Nijō Castle in Kyoto? These are in the hallway—supposedly used as a security measure, but who knows.”

“You need a hobby.” Tenko ripped the paper heart from the back of the tokonoma, crumpling it in his fist. A shred of it remained under the scrap of tape on the wall, which he bent towards to scrape off with a blunt fingernail.

“I have several,” you said, easing down onto a cushion and unfolding your legs underneath the kotatsu blanket, the luxurious heat swaddling your legs and hips. You fought the urge to curl up underneath it entirely.

“How many of them involve getting your ass thrashed by me in Cipherstone?” Tenko retrieved the bag from the sunken fireplace before returning to the kotatsu, and he sat on your left, resting the bag between the two of you.

You took the thermos of decaf tea when he handed it to you. “Tenko, you’ve been playing that game for years, and I just began. Of course my ass is gonna be thrashed by—you know how the game works. You have all of this previous information about the game that I don’t have.”

Tenko scoffed and slid your teacup across the kotatsu’s surface.  “As if I could conceal any information from you. You’re too…eh.” He waved it off, shaking his head.

“I’m too what?” You unscrewed the thermos lid, and steam surged upwards, rising to caress the planes of your face.

“It’s been unfair of Aizawa-sensei to make me tail you,” said Tenko, leaning your way, all five fingers curled around his own teacup as he stretched across the tabletop. “I’d have a chance of success if it were anyone else.”

“I’ll give you that,” you said, pouring steaming, amber tea with slices of yuzu into Tenko’s cup, “You’re getting quite good at it, not that you were bad in the first place. But yeah, it’s a bit mean of him to test your tracking skills on me.” He’d never said to stop, so you poured until liquid almost overflowed at the rim.

He gasped at the heat but nudged his teacup back to his place at the table, unable to hold it in his palm anymore. “I think I would’ve preferred working with Hound Dog-sensei for that. He’s less detail-oriented. I could win, if it weren’t you.” Jutting out his lower lip, Tenko glared down at his tea for a moment before slumping in his seat to slurp at the tea without picking it up.

“Don’t feel bad about it. It was literally and actually my focus for hero work, profiling and detail shit and being aware of my surroundings. Information stuff. Infiltration stuff.” Setting the thermos on the far corner, you cupped your hands loosely around your teacup, appreciating the warmth and getting cosier by the minute.

Tenko was rooting through the bag for the other thermoses, full of sukiyaki for each of you. “It’s clear you’ve worked hard to hone your skills. Were you this talented as a student?”

You accepted the new thermos, fingers clenching tightly around it. “Uh. I think I may have been better back then. More focused. More passionate, anyway. I had to think about it really hard back then, make conscious decisions to notice things, and now I think I do it instinctively. I think I’m slipping because of that.”

“Hm,” said Tenko, tongue rubbing over his teeth behind closed lips, and he opened his mouth to say something but shut it, instead twisting off the cap to his soup thermos. He took the first sip of sukiyaki broth and—and was absolutely beautiful (you couldn’t make sense of it beyond that; he was a mess of details that you couldn’t fit together into a larger picture that made any sense: white eyelashes light against his cheeks as they fluttered shut, face muscles relaxed, scars overlapping with laugh lines, cracked lips becoming moistened by the soup, both hands cupped around his thermos like a child, no strain to his posture, baggy hoodie swallowing him up, kotatsu blanket yanked up to his hips to cover his crossed legs, scar on the corner of his mouth delicately shifting with his baffled smirk when he caught you staring, a strange pink rising to the tips of his ears). “What?”

Uh. Hm. You pinched the bridge of your nose and then moved to rub your eyelids. “What were you going to say about me?” you asked, and you withdrew your hand from your face to raise the soup thermos to your lips, taking a mouthful of noodles and the sweet, salty broth.

Tenko shook his head. “I’m trying to avoid thoughts that fall back into my old habits.”

“Try me,” you said, holding his gaze when he met it, “I won’t tell.”

Weary, he broke eye contact, and he fixated on fishing out a certain slice of green onion. “We needed someone like you back then.”

Back then? When he—oh.

Back in the League.

Though you attempted to hide your grin by taking a sip of sukiyaki, you caught his eyes flicker to it. “You would’ve taken me? You would’ve let me in?”

“Would you have joined?” he shot back, a bit too quickly.

“No,” you said, rolling your shoulders and settling down farther underneath the kotatsu, “Never. But since you shared something you shouldn’t’ve, I’ll do the same.” You set your thermos down to rub your eyes again—God, you couldn’t look at him for too long, lest your intrusive thoughts hand you your ass. “I thought about it. About joining you.”

You dragged your hand down your face, peeking between your fingers at a muted clink. Tenko was staring at you, something fucking unreadable in his scrounched eyes, and both hands lay five-fingered and flat on the kotatsu, steam from his open thermos fluffing up hair on one side of his head. “You’re not serious. You wouldn’t have.”

“Not in the way you think,” you said, tilting your head back, “but I often thought, in the aftermath of the Paranormal Liberation Raid, what I could’ve done, if I’d known what I know now. And as the rest of the war was unfolding, I only wanted it more.”

Tenko blinked, slowly. “Tell me what you would’ve done.”

“Oh, you would’ve hated me, down to the dregs of my very soul,” you said, shifting to sit on your knees, “I would’ve started after your fight with Re-Destro, after the PLF was established. When you were letting allllllllll those heroes in, the sidekicks, the nobodies, anyone who seemed like they were with the cause. I would’ve infiltrated. Slipped in without notice. Hawks did, with the Commission, but I would’ve been going in as a free agent.”

“No one notices a U.A. student slide in between the masses. Re-Destro’s lackeys wouldn’t notice you at the door like I would. You get in,” Tenko said, taking his thermos in hand again but still engrossed in you, “What then?”

“There was a short period of time between the PLF establishment and your procedure, right? Around a month? That’s when I go. I worm my way into the good graces of some of the nine lieutenants—I’ve decided my pipeline would’ve been Geten to Toga to you. You’d just come out of an enormous battle, with Re-Destro and that city and Gigantomachia for a whole month. I heard you were bandaged up, on crutches, that you’d lost fingers that you regrew in that regeneration tank,” you said, eyes on his hands, one in a fist in his lap and the other around his thermos, five fingers pressing onto the grip but the pinkie finger hitched farther up than the rest, “That you’d given a speech and made your appearances regardless. That you’d pushed yourself to your limit and then broke yourself a little more. And you would’ve loathed me, because I would’ve come in, earned my way to your side, and I would’ve put my hand on your shoulder, slid it up your neck to cup your cheek to ask Aren’t you tired? Don’t you want to rest?” You smiled and huffed, shoving it down, and though his hard stare should’ve pinned you to your seat, you pushed on the corner of the kotatsu to edge yourself over to his side, a knee on his cushion. “I like to think that you’ve sighed, sulked a bit, reluctant to admit anything was wrong at all, because back then, you had no use for moonlight. But I would’ve made you look at me, taken you to a bed, made you lie down until your eyes fluttered shut and the tension swept through your body and left. And you would rest,” you said, finding yourself leaning over him very slightly, knees touching his, just enough so that he leant backwards just a fraction, “I would’ve made that month so soft for you. I would’ve taken care of you, when nobody was fucking paying attention to you in the way that they should’ve. I fucking—I wanted it.” You gripped the front of his hoodie, fist grasping more fabric than necessary to shake him. “I wanted it. I wanted to care for you. But I couldn’t. I didn’t know. And you were fucking alone, in an unfamiliar place, and it kills me to think about that.”

You ducked your head to wipe your watery eyes on your sleeve, taking a breath—and realising what you were doing. You loosened your grip, but before you could pull away, Tenko was cat-like quick to grab your sleeve—why won’t he touch you?

“I wouldn’t have accepted your help,” he said, quiet, controlled, holding you down with his eyes, hand shifting to curve under your sleeved wrist, signalling that you could escape at any time, “That was after the worst month of my life, fighting Machia, and I wouldn’t have accepted it. I had too much to do. I would’ve shaken you off.”

“No, you wouldn’t’ve.”

“I would’ve,” he said, a bare finger, featherlight, skimming over the tender, bare skin of the underside of your wrist (oh, wow), “I wouldn’t trust that easily in that short of a time. You’d have met me, and that’d be it. If you’d persisted, I would’ve ripped you to shreds and tossed you aside.”

“Tenko,” you said, both relief and tightness blooming from your wrist, “You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”

The hallway shoji slammed open, somehow rattling as it slid in its tracks and shook the walls, and you and Tenko scrambled apart, with you jolting backwards on your hands, grappling for your seat cushion, and Tenko banging his thermos on the kotatsu, hastily wrestling with keeping it upright as he flung his body to the side.

“Hey, fuck you, Touya,” Tenko spluttered out, elbowing himself upright as—as fucking Dabi strode inside, hands in the deep pockets of his black sweatpants. “You said you’d stay in the main house.”

“Don’t mind me,” said Touya, cool as you please, raising both of his hands in defence, “I had to ensure you’re not fucking in my bed.”

“What is—” Tenko clambered to his feet to cross to him, chirping with each stomp, and whisper-shouting once he’d corralled Touya into a far corner. “I said we’d hang out later today, Touya. You swore you’d stay inside and watch Naruto this afternoon.”

The polite thing to do would be to appear fascinated by the tea. You returned to your cushion and poured yourself another cup.

“Yeah, but I’ve been told I’ve got shit to do later. I’ve got to go to this fuckin’—fuckin’ family stuff. I don’t wanna get into it,” said Touya, at full volume, “and I wanted to check that your girl was real. Y’know, she looks nothing like someone who’d have GinzengTea as her username. Have you given it to her already?”

“Shut the fuck up. I was just about to do that, if you hadn’t interrupted, cockhead.”

“Cool,” he said, a bird-note as he shifted his weight, “I wanna see what she thinks.”

“Hell, no—”

“I helped pick ‘em out. Let me watch and have an ohagi, and I’ll leave,” said Touya, chirping towards you before he finished the sentence, and Tenko followed him, muttering under his breath.

Touya sat on the bare tatami next to you, joints cracking as he yanked the kotatsu blanket up his legs, shooting you a small salute and a concerningly charming smile. “Hey,” he said, tilting his head, eyes half-lidded, smile stretching to show more of his even, white teeth, “I’ve seen you before, yeah? When was the last time you laid eyes on me?”

Tenko pelted him in the chest with a plastic-wrapped ohagi, cutting off the ooze of charisma. “Show-off,” he said, nudging another sweetened rice ball your way.

You nodded but didn’t move to unwrap it, since you were still working on your sukiyaki. “I’m surprised you remember, Touya,” you said, the name feeling strange on your tongue, “It must’ve been years since I elbowed you in the tit.”

Eyes lighting the fuck up, you snapped towards Tenko when he laughed into his plastic wrap: still not loud, still not making any vocalisation with it, but releasing a heavy, sharp burst of air with a wide, open grin. He hunched over to hide more of it, using both hands to unwrap his ohagi—and in the moment he realised he’d been unwrapping it with only his pointer fingers and thumbs, he dropped the rest of his fingers onto the rice ball, still smirking to himself.

Biting your lip in your own smile, you turned back to Touya (you caught his moment of mild alarm at how thrilled you were when Tenko laughed—or maybe it was alarm at Tenko laughing at all—but Touya relaxed his eyebrows and shut his mouth the second you faced him again). “God, yeah, it must have been before that last battle that we’d met in a fight, and I’d gotten close enough to hit you, and…” You shook your head. “Actually, I don’t wanna talk about that stuff. It’s not who we are now.”

“That’s fine.” Touya nodded towards Tenko and took a bite of his ohagi. “Shimura, don’t you have something to give her?”

Shimura. That was his last name, you supposed, but wasn’t it odd that Tenko called Touya by his given name and that Touya called Tenko by his family name? Tenko didn’t make you call him Shimura. Well, you supposed that there’s only one Shimura now, and because of the number of Todorokis, it paid to be specific—

“Here.” Tenko set a flat box in front of you, flipping the buckle of his bag back over. “I was going to give it to you with more formality, but since this bastard showed up, I’m doing it like this.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, brow furrowed, you unpacked a pair of pale blue headphones, soft to the touch with a mesh headband so that your head wouldn’t ache.

“Noise-cancelling,” Tenko said, gabbling, frowning very slightly, “Rechargeable. There’s a detachable microphone so it can function as a headset. I wanted to do something good for you.” His eyes darted towards Touya, and they dropped to his ohagi’s bulging filling, seeping out onto the plastic wrap. “You need them, anyway. I’ve been sick of hearing you through those shitty earbuds; their sound is terrible, and when you said you’d lost your only pair—which I don’t fucking understand how you can lose those things, because they just fucking show up in my shit all the time, like a goddamn plague—I thought you needed something quality—just to make it easier on my end, obviously, so that I don’t have to tell you to yell into that shitty, built-in micropho—”

“Tenko,” you said, reaching over to place your tea-hot hand over the back of his, fingers curving with his along ohagi’s edge, “Thank you so much. I adore them. I’m really grateful that you would think of me.”

Tenko froze, the same as he had when you’d adjusted his scarf. Unable to look you in the eye, like a prey animal, stiff, shoulders tense, colour rushing up his neck to his face and ears again—but this time, he lifted his hand just a hair from his ohagi to press back into your palm, and the corner of his mouth twitched.

“Hoo, boy,” said Touya, startling the both of you when he slammed his hands on the kotatsu to push himself up, “I’ve had enough. I’ve had my little snack. I’m leaving.” Once on his feet, he stretched, pressing his hands to his lower back and arching it, grunting.

“Good fucking riddance, cocksucker,” said Tenko, rising and grabbing Touya by the elbow to haul him to the door.

“Yeah, yeah,” said Touya, dragging his feet, chirping slurred and confused by his movement, and when Tenko had him at the wall, trying to shove him out, Touya, smirking under your watch, whispered something to Tenko while forcing something into his palm. Touya ducked out as Tenko looked at what he’d accepted and, letting out a yelp, dusted whatever it was before he hurried back to the kotatsu.

(When you left the teahouse half an hour later, you discovered that he’d decayed only the wrapper and not the condom itself.)

***

“One moment, please. Nezu-sensei is in a meeting right now, but he’ll be out momentarily. Please take a number—yes, the ticket puncher when you first came in,” you said to yet another impatient and pissed client in the admin waiting room, packed to the gills with parents, press, vendors, potential sponsors, and, for some reason, Mt. Lady’s entire representative team. “By the door. If you’ll take a seat, we’ll be with you shortly.”

God, you could punt Nezu for this. Not that there was anything wrong with establishing a new, annual event for U.A.—a cherry blossom garden-set, competitive scavenger hunt coming up in the spring—but because of his casual comment that it would rise to the same importance as the Sports Festival, you were swamped with those eager to invest early. Unable to take a break, you had to work with your head bowed, desperately hoping none of these people recognised you and your failure, when all you wanted was to reply to Tenko’s messages on Cipherstone that morning.

Tenkopeito: You’ll like the next quest. You can pet a dog in it

Tenkopeito: Come over to my room this evening so that we can talk in person

Was he intending to speak with innuendo or with such sincerity that it cut right through you? Moreover, was he aware he was even doing it? Based on what you’ve observed, Tenko had no idea what he was doing to you, nor did he know how hard you were trying not to act on your attraction, though you weren’t even doing a great job of suppressing it.

It’s strange: Tenko evoked some strange, unnameable emotion in you like nothing else. You wanted to coddle him; you wanted to play stupid video games with him; you wanted to sweep his hair out of his eyes, and though you kept telling yourself that you didn’t, you wanted him to tell you how to touch yourself, how to touch him. You brushed it off. Another time. Perhaps never.

“Oh, hi!” Former pro-hero Ragdoll squealed your family name, making you jump in your seat. “It is you. I couldn’t tell from farther back in the line.” Fuck, Ragdoll would recognise you, since she and the rest of the Wild, Wild Pussycats trained Class A, and she specifically spent time with you on your tracking skills because of her Search quirk.

Don’t cause a scene. “Hello, Shiretoko,” you said, doing your best not to let your face be seen from over the reception desk’s overhang, “It’s good to see you. How can I help?”

When she beamed, she was as bright as ever. “Oh! The Pussycats want to offer our services for the scavenger hunt! We wanna get back into charity and civilian events now that we’re back from our mission for—but wait, you know all about that!” You didn’t. But her cheerful voice carried, and people were already turning towards Ragdoll, part of a hero team ranked in the top thirty. “I wanna hear more about what you’ve been up to! Since you left the hero business, no one’s known where you’ve been! Gosh, have you been behind this dreary old desk the whole time?” Ragdoll leant over the overhang, flicking at a loose strand of your hair. “I thought you were sent out on missions out of the country! Like, really important, top-secret stuff. It’s weird seeing you in an office, especially since I consider you a mini me. Why are you back at your alma mater? Did your agency not want you anymore?”

She wasn’t meaning to be cruel. Her loud, blunt sincerity, though, drew the attention of onlookers, and their flashes of recognition, subsequent judgment, and turning away made your chest tight. “I needed a break. That’s all.”

A thin, blonde woman in a burgundy overcoat leaning against the wall immediately next to the reception had been evaluating you, scanning you from top to bottom during the exchange. She didn’t bother hiding her curiosity, and when you shakily handled the rest of the conversation with Ragdoll, she turned to the short, softly featured man beside her. “You know her?” She hadn’t even tried to quiet her voice; it jolted you from Ragdoll, but you steeled yourself and continued printing off a schedule for her—and from the depths of your brain came the woman’s identity: Uwabami, the snake hero, one who usually flaunted her celebrity status but currently dressed down, without her hair snakes (a rattlesnake, a yellow king cobra, and a Japanese rat snake, which—shut up! You don’t need this information right now! Can you be fucking sane, please?).

Her sidekick—no, an intern, a student at U.A., some fuckin’ twink in the year below you, name escaping you at the moment—had some iota of tact when he looked you over, slanting his body away, as if he weren’t staring. “Yes,” he said, trying not to let you hear, “She’s my former senpai and nothing more to me. We didn’t run in the same circles. She’s the one who made that rescue a few months back, the one that got a lot of online backlash.”

“No, seriously,” Ragdoll was saying, “Why are you back at U.A.? Don’t you have somewhere else to go?”

“My—” People behind Ragdoll in line were listening. Trying not to show it. Your throat ran dry, and you couldn’t think of a lie or a pleasant half-truth. “My flat was compromised. My address was leaked, and eventually, people were—look, Shiretoko,” you said, forcing the words out of your mouth, “I really don’t want to talk about this. Here’s the printed schedule. I’ll talk to you later.”

You slid the paper across the counter, and she took it, waving goodbye and still beaming.

“Is this what happens when a hero career doesn’t work out? They just shove you back where someone will take you? At any old office desk?” that fucking twink was asking Uwabami, “I can’t—it honestly scares me to think I could lose myself and be misplaced like that. It’s wasting talent, don’t you think?”

“How can I help you?” you asked the next person in line through gritted teeth.

When Uwabami lowered her sunglasses to glance over them, you inhaled sharply and swung your swivel chair so that you wouldn’t see her. “I don’t know about that. Maybe this dreadful administration office is where she’s meant to be.”

Biting his lip, he shifted his jaw and crossed his arms, slumping against the wall. “You’ll always have a place for me, right, Uwabami? I don’t want this to happen to me.”

“Yes, I can print you out a copy of the same schedule. If you’ll allow me a moment to print.”

“Of course, Kakeru,” Uwabami said, ignorant of how you were gripping a pencil so tightly that it could snap any second, “You’ll never be left behind.” But then she fucking stared you down, deliberately holding eye contact while you were at the printer, and she said, “You’ll never need a place to hide. I’ll make sure you don’t fail.”

“Hey, how about you shut up?” you hissed, ripping the printer-warm schedule from the tray and storming back to your current client to shove it into their hands. “Aren’t Japanese rat snakes supposed to be in hibernation this time of year, anyway?”

***

Someone in Mt. Lady’s group recorded it. Someone posted it.

wizardjenkins11: jesus christ who knew u.a. had its own island of misfit toys

emotionalsupportdynamightsweat: nice to see that she kept her snark, but what is she doing back at school?? don’t heroes have some sort of paperwork component to their work. why isn’t she still at an agency

blood-is-thiccer: lol ua’s the only one who’d take the bitch. she’s being rude as hell to an actual pro hero. lameass quirk anyway and ass flat as hell lmao she fucken deserved that guy lighting her mailbox on fire

LynchianTiddies: You’re encouraging domestic terrorism???

blood-is-thiccer: that’s not domestic terrorism

LynchianTiddies: Then what, pray fucking tell, is it??

blood-is-thiccer: wikipedia.org/wiki/Vandalism

XylemPhloemBuckaroo: no but I get what that guy was saying about wasting talent tho. Out of everyone in that class a, she’s the only one not topping the fucking hero charts rn. She’s the only one who’s left hero work. What makes her weaker than the rest of her classmates? What happened to her to make her like this?

koiboi69: wouldn’t you quit if people were camping outside your house/work/grocerystore? And also FUCK, man, there’s no fucking need to say she’s fucking weak. that’s kicking her while she’s down

XylemPhloemBuckaroo: I’m not kicking her while she’s down. I’m stating facts and asking reasonable questions.

koiboi69: bro wouldn’t YOU feel down if you’d didn’t have a home to go back to??? going back to u.a. is like admitting defeat, like you couldn’t handle it on your own and need protection

mawatadaddysgorl: i love seeing updates on her bc it makes me feel so good about what i’m doing with my life

***

Uraraka and Shinsou texted you but couldn’t call, let alone come from across town. Aizawa was AWOL, and Dango was hiding under your bed, so you, blotchy-faced and damp, were crumpled on the floor outside of room 310, eating vending machine bullshit and waiting for Tenko to return home.

Exactly all the insecurities you’d been stuffing down for months and months, brought out to air in front of everyone. Instead of doomscrolling, you locked your phone and slid it across the hallway carpet, burying your face in your hands and stomach lurching to the thought that you might soon be plastered everywhere in sight, again. Another round of intensive laying low loomed on the horizon, especially now that your location was made public. Your little secretary job was good enough, and relocating elsewhere on campus would lead to more job training, which would be a bitch.

Where was Tenko? You needed him here to say something irreverent and vindictive. Something unhinged. Or you needed him to hold you, pull you into his lap, and bitch about the whole thing while watching a movie. Tenko had messaged you to come by after work, so why wasn’t he…?

The staircase door hissed open, Tenko pushing it with his back, reusable grocery bags on his arms, and—and wearing a cape? Who the fuck wears a cape casu—oh shit he’s in his hero costume.

You’d heard that he had one, designed by the same company that’d made Midoriya’s and Shouto’s, and the similarities were clear: a boxy sort of design due to thick fabric that still somehow hugged his chest, a minimalist utility belt, and sturdy, knee-capping boots, positively flaming scarlet in contrast to the dark greys of the rest of his jumpsuit. The most obvious connection with another hero, though, made your chest throb: his cloak fastened with the same clasp his grandmother’s had. His dust-blocking respirator lay around his neck for the moment, but what was most embarrassing for you was how your brain fucking wheezed like a boiling kettle at his bare arms, biceps bulging, every fucking inch of skin down to his fingertips completely on display like a goddamn slut.

Whore behaviour. Whore behaviour! You had to duck your head when he squatted next to you, because oh, now you could see the stretch marks on his upper arms, because he’d gotten large way too quickly to be healthy, and smell his fading Old Spice and sweat from being out on what must have been an emergency call, and he was setting his grocery bags aside, reaching out to graze your shoulder, and wow, he’d been complaining about how he didn’t have abs yet despite working out five days a week now that his stamina had increased, but that fabric clung to his lower abdomen, looking very, very flat.

Initially pinching the fabric of your sweater, he shifted his jaw and laid his hand on your shoulder. “Who am I dusting?”

“God, Tenko,” you said, trying to look anywhere but his arms, or his abdomen, or his fucking lips, but he was leaning so much over you that he occupied most of your line of vision, and the only way to avoid seeing anything besides wisps of white hair was to gaze at the popcorned ceiling. “You’re not supposed to do that anymore.”

“Oh, yeah? Who am I dusting?” He squeezed your shoulder, stretching his thumb out to rub at your collarbone.

“Unless you can dust everyone in the country, I don’t think decay will help.”

Tenko clicked his tongue. “I have been explicitly told not to do that,” he said, shifting to sit on his knees, “I have—” He dug into a grocery bag for a moment. “—this for you. You like this shit, right?” Tenko pressed a bottle of pink lemonade into your hands.

“Fucking. Fuck. I do,” you said, passing the condensation-coated bottle from one hand to another, chest tightening, blinking to keep the water levels low, “Thank you. You didn’t have to get me this.”

“I know that,” he said with a dismissive wave, and he paused, fists in his lap. “Would it help if I gave you a hug?”

(What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the—)

“Yeah,” you said calmly, like a calm person, and when Tenko opened his (muscular) arms, you crawled into them, wrapping your own around his back to rest between his shoulder blades. You rested your chin in a fold of his cape, cheek pressing against the side of his respirator, and you frowned as his embrace tightened, pulling you closer in a sloppy, unpractised sort of way, grounded by the steady rise and fall of his very solid chest.

(This felt…affectionate. Romantic, even.

But Shigaraki Tomura didn’t do romance, and you don’t—you’re not—you wouldn’t dream of being conceited enough to read someone’s perhaps thoughtless actions as flirtation, because why would someone be flirting with you? No one did that in general, and being U.A.’s humiliating problem child exacerbated the fact.

Moreover, why would the man who was Shigaraki Tomura, in the middle of his rehabilitation and re-discovery of self, even in the microscopic chance that he had the mental energy to experience romantic feelings, aim that romantic impulse towards you? It would make more sense if he liked someone he’d known for a while, like Touya or Spinner or Toga, and if his romantic feelings leant towards recuperative trauma-bonding, wouldn’t it be more apt to feel for someone at his rehab? His therapist, maybe? He’d idolised Aizawa before he’d met him, and even that would make more sense than latching onto someone as late in the process as you.

He’d gotten flustered when you’d tied his scarf, and Touya’s played terrible wingman. But still. You couldn’t know. You can’t read into this, even though reading into things had been your job, because—because no one would want you. You’ll have to…You’ll have to gather more evidence. You couldn’t be certain.)

Tenko hummed, chin digging into your shoulder, blowing strands of your hair out of his face. “I calmed a kid down earlier by hugging her. Is this working for you?”

(…oh.)

You sniffled and hid your mouth in his cape so that he couldn’t catch your pout. “That’s—that’s good that a kid allowed you to comfort her. What happened?”

“Pipes broke in an old apartment building in the Takoba district. The third floor collapsed under the pressure, and it trapped families in part of the building. I was called out to dust the rubble trapping them,” Tenko said, tapping his fingers high on your back in a ripple, “and they had me dust some other walls to help start the repairs. It was cool. And this one little girl who’d gotten out before the rest of her family was really nervous, and she was sticking to me, holding onto my cape. I was telling her that everything was gonna be okay, like you’ve taught me, and when I asked how she was doing, this fuckin’ kid extended her arms to me. So, I fucking hugged her. Picked her up so she could see what was happening better. It was weird, but it felt good.” Tenko sighed. “I hate how it wants me to be kind more.”

And fuck, fuck, that’s the last straw to this horrible day, and you’re crying, silently, controlling your breathing to keep Tenko from finding out, because goddammit, this idiot bastard man was surprisingly easy to love.

You buried your face fully in his shoulder, hoping he couldn’t feel any wetness through his costume, and you and Tenko sat in the quiet of the hallway for a minute, interrupted only by the A/C kicking in.

Tenko tried to part the two of you enough to look you in the face, but you doubled down, curling your fingers into the fabric of his jumpsuit and keeping your head bowed. Scoffing, he sat upright, making you follow his movements to stay hidden. “You gonna tell me what’s wrong yet?”

“Forget all that shit I’ve taught you,” you said, grumbling to his tits now that he’d changed positions, hating how stopped up you sounded already, “It doesn’t matter what you fucking do in the public’s eye, because there’s always gonna be someone who hates you. You can’t please everyone, so just fucking be yourself. That’s funnier, anyway.”

“Did you psychoanalyse some press member’s pathetic sex life, or something? Deduce an affair based on the way he knots his tie? Announce the state of his dick to the whole room because of the length of his pants?”

“Fuck off, Tenko. I’m not some pretentious-ass Sherlock Holmes bitch,” you said, pursing your lips and instinctively pulling back to glare at him—

And the moment you did, Tenko cupped your face in his hands, soft at the palm and strongly calloused along his fingers, keeping you facing towards him no matter how hard you tried to jerk away, struggling to stay upright. “You are crying.”

“No, I’m not,” you said, just as a falling tear touched his thumb. As you adjusted to his grip, your hands fell to his thighs, pressing against them in fists.

“Hm. Well, you don’t have to tell me,” he said, eyes on another tear trailing down the other cheek, “but you’re joining me to watch a movie with Eri. I got snacks on the way home.”

You sighed, taking in how big his hands were and how much of your face they encompassed, trying to memorise their feeling until they were snatched away forever. “I thought we were gonna start a new quest tonight. I was excited.”

Tenko balked and shifted into a sceptical grin. “You wanted to play Ciperstone tonight?” he asked, both thumbs rubbing your cheekbones and moving to swipe underneath your eyes.

You sighed again, shoulders heaving as Tenko released your face to flick tears off of his hand. “I didn’t want to be myself for a few hours.”

Tenko pushed on his knees to stand. “That’s actually related to what I originally wanted to talk to you about. Furthering the working-with-others mission,” he said, and he extended his hand to help you up. “What do you know about Dungeons and Dragons?”

***

“God fucking dammit!” Tenko slammed his palm to his forehead and leant back to balance on the kitchen chair’s back legs and then combed his fingers back through his hair, upsetting some strands from his ponytail. Groaning, he crooked his face your way, smushed his face against the chair back, and pointed towards his forehead, where a red splot was forming. “Hit me as hard as you can.”

“Being bludgeoned won’t change the fact that you rolled a three,” you said, nodding towards his d20, “I ignore his whining and continue to drain the fig tree to charge my spell.”

Behind the DM screen, Shinsou rolled his own dice, and once his eyebrows had shot up to his hairline, he turned to Midoriya. “I need you to roll two d12s and a d4.”

Tenko bolted upright, hastily sweeping his bangs out of his face. “Wait, what does Midoriya have to do with it? He’s across the fucking grove! He’s engaged in close-ranged combat.”

You turned away from Shinsou’s sly grin and towards Tenko, mouth nearly a straight line, yanking another cluster of grapes from the communal bowl, and shoving two grapes in his mouth. He pinched at his lower lip as he chewed, twisting and peeling at dead skin, frowning as he focused on his character sheet, scanning it for some sort of information he was forgetting and absentmindedly raising his knee to his chest, the heel of his foot propped on the seat of his chair (thank God his jeans were from Best Jeanist’s Moulded to Your Ass line: the denim strained with his muscles. Your eye twitched). In this particular morning, with the five of you squared off at Aizawa’s kitchen table, papers and dice strewn among grocery store bakery cinnamon rolls and coffee cups (Tenko’s was full of gatorade instead of coffee, much to his chagrin), as Tenko was throwing grapes into Touya’s mouth while Shinsou did math, the narwhal house slippers dangling off Tenko’s feet, it struck you that Shigaraki Tomura had become just some guy. One who went for walks to clear his head, who spent hours failing to do a kickflip on Present Mic’s skateboard, who used emoticons over emojis, who got nervous in fast food drive-throughs, who collected hero merch (of Aizawa fervently and Present Mic against his will), who was losing his sensitivity to foods like leeks and onions, a man who was growing more and more exquisitely mundane.

And goddamn, he’s clever and perceptive and patient and cheeky in a devastatingly attractive way, and he’s flustered easily, eager to do a thing correctly, and utterly, totally captivating in his endless discoveries of what it means to be alive.

You timed it so that the shudder and shock crossing his face could pass as response to Shinsou’s description of how Tenko’s enchanted crossbow bolt missed the Spirit Realm Necromancer entirely, instead sinking into the sacred Grand Oak and instantly shattering the tree as if it were glass, its elaborate root system holding up the floating grove splintering into thousands of tiny shards, the ground beneath your party’s feet crumbling at the slightest suggestion of the shifting of weight. But really he curled in his lips with a furrowed brow and stuttering breath when you reached underneath the table to graze the back of his hand, and when he forced himself to relax, shoulders slackening, frown fading, Tenko spread his fingers to cover more of his denim-clad thigh, which you took as a timid sort of consent. Biting the inside of your cheek, you eased your palm over the back of Tenko’s hand, lacing your fingers through his and going through the motions of reacting to Shinsou’s shattered earth. Neither of you looked at each other while Midoriya’s character suffered the Necromancer’s spell to increase gravity, each movement of Midoriya’s bulky, steel armour accelerating the fall of the floating grove. By the time each of you had had enough turns to land on solid ground, preserving little of the sacred grove but all surviving, Tenko finally squeezed your fingers back, curling his own to grip them more firmly, keeping your hand pinned to his thigh, steeling himself, sitting up straight, and proposing getting close enough to the Necromancer to drive a crossbow bolt directly into his skull.

Midoriya was already muttering to himself over the effectiveness of the action while Shinsou worked, and Touya irreverently flicked his dice at Tenko, chugging coffee with his other hand. “You plunge the bolt by hand into the Necromancer’s head,” said Shinsou, “but with your strength debuff still in effect, you only nick him.”

“I try stabbing it through his ear.”

“It goes through,” said Shinsou, nodding and running his hand back through his hair, which sprung back into place, “It doesn’t pierce the neocortex, so he can still summon another—“

“I stomp him to death with my hooves,” said Touya, picking at his teeth and running his tongue over the spot.

The rest of you turned to him slowly in various states of incredulity.

“You don’t have hooves, Touya,” you said, tilting your head at the same time Tenko rubbed his thumb over yours, prompting your breath to hitch and a strange warmth to travel through your body, making you feel dizzy.

Touya grimaced and reached for a cinnamon roll. “I take off my leather breeches and boots to reveal my hooves. I have been a satyr masquerading as a human this whole time.” He leant forward on his elbow, glaring at Shinsou and gesturing with his cinnamon roll. “I stomp him. To death. With my hooves.”

Tenko sneered, his teeth cutting into his lower lip, but he merely opened his mouth and closed it, poking his tongue into his cheek. “I suppose maiming a party member wouldn’t coincide with my character’s chaotic good alignment,” he said, heaving a huge sigh to—oh, that cunning rat bastard—to conceal how he flipped his hand over in yours to touch palms, weaving your fingers back together and squeezing again, planting them back on his upper leg, massaging between your knuckles with his thumb.

“What’d you just roll?”

“Nineteen,” said Touya, casting Shinsou a slice of his most charming smile.

Midoriya let out a little laugh as Shinsou bitterly plopped his head on his fist. “Fuck you, Touya. Congratulations. You clomp over to the Necromancer and stomp all over him. Stompy stomp stomp stompy stomp. It’s difficult to watch at the insane speed you’re going, so no one stops you from doing such a good job pounding him that he’s ground into dust. Bits of him drift away in the wind.”

Here Midoriya winced. “Weren’t we supposed to retrieve the soul crystal embedded in his gauntlet? We can’t get our reward from that Silver Age dragon rider if we don’t have it.”

“Correct,” said Shinsou, glancing down at his notes, “It has been stomped to smithereens. You can’t even make out what parts of the pile of dust were once flesh.”

Ready to bolt, Touya was getting up from the table and holding up his hands in defence, but before Midoriya could start a speech that would have been more apt for the number one hero to use on patrol rather than during a DND game, the door to Aizawa’s flat opened, and in he walked, covering his yawn with the back of his hand. He halted at the sight of the five of you around his kitchen table, taking in the scattered papers and remnants of breakfast before settling on your DM. “Shinsou,” Aizawa began, disappointment outweighing the exhaustion in his voice.

“You’re the only one with a table that could fit all of us,” Shinsou said, spinning in his chair to face him, “This dormitory doesn’t have a good common area like the student ones do. Would you really prefer us to—”

“We can find you a table; there’s plenty on campus.” Aizawa lifted his goggles over his head to set them on the counter. “Is this why Monoma kept slowing me down during patrol?”

“No,” you and Shinsou said, while Tenko said, “Yes.”

Aizawa actually smiled as he unwound his capture weapon from around his neck. “Look who’s the only one telling the truth.”

“Why would I lie to you, sensei?”

Touya smacked Tenko on the arm. “Suck-up.”

“You promise?” Tenko shot back, nose wrinkling with his grin.

“This coffee had better be amazing, because it’s the only thing keeping me from kicking you all out right now,” said Aizawa, rubbing a dry eye with the heel of his palm, other hand outstretched for someone to pass him a mug.

Tenko’s thumb bent inward to swipe the inside of your palm, a silent protest while he drank from his stupid little mug of gatorade, and when he noticed what was at the bottom, he flinched. It must have been Touya who’d put your dice in Tenko’s cup.

***

Following the video of you insulting Uwabami, you’re garnering an unnerving amount of attention again, but it’s clearly someone different than last time. Whoever your stalker(s) was this time around, they were careless and unsubtle—and this confidence to be careless left you jumping at the slightest sound when you were alone.

Furthermore, you legitimately couldn’t deduce your stalker’s motivations, because no clear message linked his actions. At first, you chalked it up to the dorm’s shitty dryer eating your bright blue thong, but when you couldn’t find your lip balm or trolley pass or eventually your favourite sweater, you concluded that something else was at play here, further cemented by more and more tiny things going missing—things that, if you were stalking someone, you would’ve selected as small enough not to miss.

But bizarrely, your stalker left shit of his own lying about. A phone charger appeared underneath your pillow; loose change and a travel pack of alcoholic wipes showed up in your bathroom sink. Hello Kitty band-aids, a hair clip that looked like one of Rumi’s ears, deep-moisturising hand cream, a tiny lizard keychain with a white hamburglar mask drawn on. You couldn’t wrap your head around it. What could your stalker be trying to say besides he could access your personal space with ease? Hoarding it all in the drawer with the GINSENG TEA X LUSTFUL BALLSACK hentai, you were struck with the notion that this may have been going on even before the video.

God, you missed when this school felt more like home instead of a holding cell, back when Shinsou and Uraraka and the rest were all still living together with you, when you could simply turn the corner to the common area to demand who took your laundry detergent and get an answer immediately (you also missed taking Aoyama’s bougie food, though you suspected that towards the end he was buying extra specifically for you). You sent an email to Aizawa about the potential break in security, and he promised to monitor the situation, though there was no evidence of physical entry.

Evidence. It’s been on your mind.

Sure, Tenko’s done stuff that could be read as romantic: how he plops your hand onto his head to demand you play with his hair, how he hovers whenever Touya stands too closely to you, how he gets upset on your behalf when people glare at you in public.

(Tenko grabbed your elbow, breaking your focus on the clothing rank. “We’re going.”

“But we haven’t found you a red coat yet.”

He lifted the hangers from your arm and slid them back onto the rack, despite belonging elsewhere. “Don’t care. I don’t like the way the cashier’s looking at you,” he said, jerking his head their direction, and when you tilted your head to glance at them over his shoulder, Tenko tapped your chin twice, guiding you to look back at him. “You shouldn’t have to be on guard when I’m with you.”)

If you were reading into it—and you were—Tenko was being so careful with talking about the pro-hero scene around you that it was almost as if he’d gotten a mission task from Aizawa to distract you from anything that might make you feel bad about yourself.

(“I hear you’re causing a lot of paperwork for my old man,” said Touya, pulling out another floor cushion from the storage space in the teahouse wall, “He hates that you’ve had to dust so many structures near his agency. He’s a decrepit creature of habit, and now that his commute is different, he’s—”

“Hey, Touya, tell us what flower bulbs you planted this winter,” Tenko said abruptly, clamping the lid on the pot hanging over the sunken fireplace, “Tell us what your garden’ll look like in spring.”

You shut your book, even though you’d just opened it. “Wait, are you saying that Touya is the one who keeps this garden? That’s—”

“You like it, sweetheart?” Touya dropped his cushion next to yours, ignoring the way Tenko was glaring daggers into his back. “Think it’s impressive?”

“Holy shit; I thought we were in the back of some professionally restored historical site the first time we came here,” you said, smiling at how Tenko’s petulant stomps to his seat chirruped, even when he scooted his own cushion towards yours (adorable; you’d think he didn’t like you giving attention to anyone else).

“Well,” said Touya, propping his hands on the kotatsu so that he could get a better view of Tenko, “With enormous pride and a huge erection, I’m pleased to announce that this garden is all my hard work.”

“Stop that,” barked Tenko, jabbing a finger towards Touya, “Stop bringing up your cock.”

“I could talk about yours, if you want. His monster cock is excruciatingly leaky and so shaped.”

Groaning, Tenko clonked his forehead on the kotatsu’s tabletop before Touya could say anything else, arm still outstretched. He peeked out from underneath his bangs towards you, tension leaving his body at your burst of laughter.)

He’s also taken your comment about silent admiration to heart. Over the discord call (through very comfortable headphones), you’d made a dumb joke about not being able to play for long, and he’d shut up immediately. When you’d confessed to lying and hoping you’d scared him, he’d replied seriously: “I want to protect my time with you. I don’t like it being taken away. I feel better when you’re with me.”

You’d frozen in the middle of weaving bowstrings while his character continued stringing them onto bows. You’d never have gotten that sort of remark at the beginning of your relationship. Tenko must genuinely be listening to you.

Anyway. You decided in the event that Tenko was collecting evidence, too, that you would leave him some.

The first time you’d been in his room had been for a specific purpose, which was to help him rub in his new facial scar moisturiser (not to take them away, or anything, because Tenko wanted to keep them, claiming he wouldn’t recognise himself in the mirror if he didn’t have his scars—and you thought they were devastatingly attractive, anyway—but just to keep them hydrated enough not to itch), but now you were here just to spend time in the same space. You were reading on his bed (oh, hohoho, his bed), and Tenko was drawing in his sketchbook on his couch by the window. With his mouth pinched in concentration, he squinted down at his paper, swiping away eraser shavings with his artist-gloved hand.

Drawing by natural light. Tenko was in room 310 because of its wide windows. It had been his one request when U.A. was placing him.

AFO had deliberately raised him in a bedroom without windows. You’d kill him if he weren’t already dead.

Thankfully, AFO’s influence was absent from Tenko’s dorm: Naruto sheets from Touya, an old Nintendo DS on his bedside table with Nintendogs in the cartridge slot, Present Mic’s skateboard propped against the coatrack that held only a black hoodie, unfolded but clean laundry in a basket next to a dresser with prescription bottles atop it, a mirror that served more as a bulletin board of Eraserhead merch than as a way to check his reflection, red shoes by the doorway, books borrowed from everyone from All Might to Shinsou to the ramen delivery guy strewn across the room, on shelves, his computer desk, his rug. The thing Tenko’d had to explain to you was a therapist-assigned painting hanging over his desk: he’d painted a murky, purple-blue, abstract sort of thing, and you were strangely touched when he’d explained it was Kurogiri (and now that you were looking, among his bulletin board of Eraserhead, a few drawings of Loud Cloud were mixed in).

There’s a lot of people in Tenko’s life who care about him now, and you’re happy to be one of them. Setting your book aside, you got up to sit next to him on the couch.

He paused when you sank into the cushion next to—well, no, you were basically sharing the same cushion, especially since he unfolded his legs from underneath him so that you could get closer. You scooted over so that your shoulders touched (scandalous) and looked over his drawings.

He’s drawing your DND characters. While his sketches aren’t exactly good, you can clearly tell who’s supposed to be whom, and they’re fun to look at, so that’s all that matters. At the centre is your character, Ginseng—you named it after your Cipherstone account because why not—in the process of spell-charging. Your character relies on the traditional ritual of tea ceremonies, from the growing of the tealeaves to serving it, summoning whatever tools you needed, like the table and dishware, and if an enemy got caught by the conventions of politeness of the tea ceremony, they were trapped in it until they’d drunk their teacup dry. Tenko had drawn her early in the spell-charging process, with branches of tealeaves sprouting from underneath her skin, with her harvesting them from her forearm. It’s rather flattering, the way her determined expression lit up her face.

Next to Ginseng was Tenko’s character, Peito, also lifted from his Cipherstone character. He was sitting on the same log as Ginseng in the middle of camp, backs touching while he cut feathers as the first step in the fletching process. His carved-willow quiver leant against his knee-high boot, red even in a fictional universe. Peito’s hands were bare, five fingers pressed against his knife and arrows.

Further back in the camp (really just towards the top of the paper, since Tenko wasn’t good at foreshortening yet), Midoriya’s character, Jackrabbit, was holding up two hangers, one with his steel and the other with sleek, black leather armour. A nice touch, really, since Midoriya had swopped Jackrabbit’s primary armour to the more lightweight leather since the shattered grove incident, and wow, you could even tell it was leather based on the pencil strokes.

Seated nearby, Touya’s character, Granddaddy Slapkins, roared with laughter at him. His shoes lay next to him, his hooves out. For some reason, he’s not holding his pet duck; he’s instead cradling what looks like your character’s wild shape, a cat with the same chocolate-point markings as your real cat (your character’s shapeshifted form was just Dango, but Tenko didn’t know that. He still didn’t know Dango existed, because cats were still illegal in the dorms, and Tenko, that little brown-nosing shit, would probably tell Aizawa about her. Cute how he’s only a suck-up to Aizawa, though).

Your favourite detail, though, was how his character was smiling. Unabashedly. As if it were a no-brainer, as if doing anything else made no sense at all.

With a stab of affection, you nuzzled into Tenko’s shoulder, resting your chin there while he sketched loops of chainmail onto Granddaddy Slapkins’s shirt, and a shiver racked through him.

“Oh, are you cold?” you asked, sitting back up and heading over towards the bed, “Let me get your blanket.”

“Wha—no, I—sure,” said Tenko, setting his pencil on his sketchbook and the whole thing on the arm of the couch, eyes half-lidded as you returned with his throw blanket.

And without thinking, you moved on impulse, as if all higher orders of cognition had checked out for the night, because you behaved like you did in your head whenever you thought about Tenko: casually, intimately, and domestically. You wrapped the blanket around yourself and knelt on the sofa before swinging a knee over his lap, and you snuggled into his chest, clutching his shirt and nosing at his neck.

Your eyes snapped open.

(What the fuck?

If this had been a planned attack, then it would’ve been a thing of brilliance: casual, seeming to meet a physical need [heating a chill] in the name of physical closeness. But you fucked it. This wasn’t planned, and thus you don’t have a way out of it without otherwise betraying your romantically-motivated interior.

Thank fuck he’s frozen up, too. But how do you get out of this? God, you really shouldn’t be teaching him how to navigate interpersonal relationships when you get yourself into shit like this.)

You swallowed thickly, pulse pounding in your ears.

“I need your advice.” Tenko’s chest barely rose when he took his first breath since you climbed onto his lap. “What would be the socially expected response to this?”

“Uh. That depends on if you’re into it or not,” you said, forcing yourself to sit back in his lap to give him some space, “If you dislike it, then it’s to get me to get off of you, and if you welcome it, then, uh. Anything else.”

Tenko unclenched his fists at his sides and—a pause, shifting his jaw—he let his hands rest at a barely-there touch on your hips, dragging them upwards to your waist, applying enough pressure there for you to feel all ten fingertips through your shirt. “Is this,” he said, wetting his lower lip, and he couldn’t continue, instead swallowing saliva.

Gathering your nerve, you wove your hand through his hair to scratch at his scalp in the way he’d liked when you’d played with his hair, and at the familiarity, Tenko huffed, shutting his eyes tightly and pressing his forehead to yours in a rush, almost knocking them together. He took another breath, heat washing over your face, and you slid your other up hand to cup his cheek.

Tenko shivered again, and he clamped his hand over yours to keep it there. “Are you sure this is what you mean to do?”

He seemed receptive enough to it, but you couldn’t be certain. “Yeah,” you said, “If I’m reading it right.”

“But it makes no sense. I’ve got to be reading it wrong,” Tenko was saying, frowning, “No one would willingly like me—”

“For fuck’s sake, Tenko—”

Practically slapping your other hand to his cheek, you kissed him, pulling him closer, one of his hands still over yours with the other now gripping your waist as if he’d never let you go. Tenko grunted into it, surging forward to keep his rough lips (sticky from his freshly applied pineapple-beeswax chapstick) seared to yours. You felt, more than heard, his miniscule whimper at the back of his throat when he opened his mouth, sliding his tongue into yours, and you could hardly keep kissing him for smiling. But he needed a breath before you did, so you broke it, sensing he wouldn’t do it out of wanting to keep you nearby.

Panting, Tenko tried and failed to push your hair behind your ear in an attempt to be suave. “Now, I perceived that as romantic.”

“It was romantic, you muppet,” you said, thumping his chest with the back of your hand.

“Good.” He cleared this throat. “Cool. Excellent,” he said, shifting underneath you (with difficulty, under the constricting denim of his Moulded to Your Ass jeans), “I want it to be, when it comes to you.”

“Thank God, I really want that, too,” you said, sighing, “but, like, I really don’t know if it’s ethical to pursue a romance this early into your recovery—”

“The fuck is wrong with you? I want it. I want you.” Frustrated, Tenko grabbed your hips in an iron grip and ground up into you, slowly, and that tight-ass denim let you feel precisely where in the drag of his hips his cock touched you, letting you feel the shift in pressure at his tip, down his shaft, to the first curve of his balls. “I thought I was alone. I thought no one else would ever be able to understand me, having fallen from what I was raised to be. Fallen,” he said, spitting, “Such a nasty word for what we’re actually doing: we’ve been reborn together. We get to build our lives back up together. We get another chance at it. I wanna spend mine with you.”

He strained his neck upwards to kiss you again, insistent, moving with confidence when he took your lower lip into his mouth but only nibbling on it once, despite being posed to bite down with vigour.

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about what anyone else thinks of you and what anyone else thinks of me. I—”

“That’s not true,” you said, your turn to catch your breath, “You care so much about what Aizawa-sensei—”

“You know what I mean,” he said, shaking his head, hair falling out of his loose ponytail, “You think of me as me, and that’s all that matters. If you’re really that fucking worried about me getting into a relationship too early, go talk to my therapist. She says you’re good for me. A good influence, anyway.”

“Holy shit,” you said, mostly in reaction to how Tenko started trailing frantic, dry kisses down your neck, and, realising you should probably be doing something back, you rolled your hips, feeling awfully warm under the blanket.

He bucked back up into you, more out of desperation to keep you close over a need for friction but still giving you a taste of what it would be like to have him thrusting into you. “Fuck,” he said, almost grumbling, “I’d say fuck being ethical about it, because I’ve wanted you for a long time. I got hard when you shook me by the shoulders outside of that ice cream shop; I thought my soul was gonna leave my body when you adjusted my scarf. Hell, I—” He cut himself off, grinning in a way that, back before you knew him, you might have described as maniacal. “I wanted you back during the war. I saw you fucking elbow Touya during that battle, and the way you made him crumple to the ground was so fucking sexy. And you recovered from when he swiped at you so easily; you slipped around his attacks like it was fucking second nature. I thought it’d be cool to have you by my side, having you—” He realised what he was saying, and he relaxed, smile fading into a curious, pensive sort of look while he brought his thumb to your kiss-swollen lips. “And now I get to.”

You kissed the pad of his thumb, blinking slowly.

“So. Yeah,” he said, dropping his hand to your shoulder as he broke eye contact, a little red, “I think it’d be cool to be with you, even if we have to be careful.”

“That’s the thing, Tenko,” you said, biting the inside of your cheek as you gathered your thoughts, “I’m scared, because while I know that we should, because that’d be safe, I don’t want to be careful. Since I’ve quit being a hero, every single thing about how I’ve been living has left me feeling empty and alone, because it’s like I’m wandering through limbo. Everything screams that whatever I’m doing now is temporary, that it’ll pass, that I don’t truly belong in this situation, because I’ll find what I’m supposed to be doing later and my real home is somewhere down the line, but—fuck.” You rubbed your eye with your fist. “You, Tenko. You don’t feel temporary. You feel forever.”

Underneath you, Tenko stretched to pop a crick in his back, and he tilted his head to lie on the back of the couch. His ponytail had come loose, and his hair splayed against the fabric as he stared at you, one hand idly rubbing at your waist.

“Well. You’ve got to belong somewhere,” he said eventually, and he tapped all five fingers onto your thigh. “It could be with me.”

***

Dango was missing.

Incredible how the best evening of your life preceded the worst day you’ve had in years. You called out of work and spent hours scouring the dorm and then campus. A gruelling, miserable sort of day, anyway, grey and rainy and cold, and the campus was swarmed with people setting up for the scavenger hunt event later this month, populating the area with non-U.A. personnel and construction. Your cat was out in that mess, and you didn’t even know where to search first. It’s loud, scary, and wet, so Dango would most likely be hiding and not come when she’s called.

Had Dango escaped your flat? Had your stalker stolen her? Had she been confiscated by U.A.?

You couldn’t call any faculty for help; they’d get onto you for having an illegal cat on campus—and Hound Dog, the one who’d be the most help, might just scare her to death. Too early in the morning to call any of your friends, and you doubted they’d alter their busy schedules to help you out of a situation you should be able to fix yourself. But damn it, how come your own tracking skills only worked on people?

You shook yourself, coming out of your spiral the best you could, and you were close to hyperventilating. You sat down on a curb.

You found yourself calling Tenko, despite it being too early in the day for him to be out of training, filling with dread about never seeing your cat again and having to clear out her stuff from your room. Pulling your soaked jacket closer, you wiped at your nose and waited at the dial tone.

“Hey, I thought you couldn’t call during work. Miss me that much?”

The second you heard his strangely chipper voice, you started crying into the speaker.

He inhaled sharply, tone shifting. “Tell me who the fuck I’m stomping to death with my hooves.”

Ducking your head, you managed a smile but continued to fucking sob. “You don’t—don’t have to kill anyone, Ten—Tenko. I’ve f—fucked up.”

“What’s wrong? Where are you?”

“I’m on cam—campus,” you said, unable to speak for a full sentence without having to cut yourself off to keep bawling, ugly and loud and getting snottier by the minute, “It’s my fucking fault that I haven’t been ta—taking my stupid sta—stalker seriously, and I should’ve reported it, but—but I—goddammit!” The rain picked up again, coming down in rapid, fat drops, and, shielding your eyes, you rubbed your phone screen on your sleeve, not that it did much. “Sor—sorry. Rain got heavier.”

“Where on campus?”

“No, Te—Tenko, I’ll get up. I’m coming to you,” you said, sniffling and pushing on your knees to stand, wet and hungry and ready to crawl into your sock drawer to sleep for days. “I—I’m just so fucking pissed at myself, because my cat is fucking lost, and I could’ve sto—stopped it if I hadn’t been so secreti—tive.” Hands shaking, you yanked your soaked hood over your head and trudged towards your dormitory, and you kicked gravel, rocks scattering over the path, before losing your footing on it and nearly falling. Fuck this.

“You have a cat,” said Tenko, losing his fervent. “What’s it look like?”

“Beautiful.”

“I need more than that.”

“She fucking—I based Ginseng’s cat form on her, okay? She’s this enormously fluffy thing, mostly whitish with a brown face and legs, and it makes her look like she’s wearing a mask and thigh-high socks like God’s sluttiest little jester,” you said, knocking on your dorm’s mailboxes for luck out of habit as you passed them, “And you can’t tell Aizawa-sensei about her, because if she’s taken away the moment I find her, then I—”

“I have her,” said Tenko, “She’s in my dorm with me.”

You ran the rest of the way to his room, panting and absolutely disgusting by the time you got there, and when Tenko opened his door, there was Dango, loafing on the back of the couch and watching raindrops race down the window.

“What the fuck,” you said, dropping your wet coat and toeing off your shoes, “How the hell did she get in here?”

Tenko shrugged and hung your coat next to his hoodie. “Can she open locked doors?”

“I hope to fuck she can’t,” you said, and you rounded the couch to wrap your arms around that dear little loaf, and Dango jumped off the couch to crawl underneath it before you could fully hug her. “Oh, good. She’s fine. Acting like normal.” You sat on the couch’s arm, adrenaline evaporating to render you boneless.

“She was in my room when I came back from training. We ended early today, since Aizawa-sensei has something.” Tenko stooped to yank two bottles of gatorade from their plastic rings and headed towards the sofa to offer one to you. “She didn’t seem upset or hurt. She’s been sitting there, napping on and off.”

You accepted it and twisted off the cap. “So, who put my cat in your room?”

“Why would anyone do that?”

“I don’t know,” you said, taking a shallow sip, careful not to overwhelm your agitated stomach, “They’d have to know about Dango in the first place, and I suppose my stalker would, since they’ve theoretically been breaking into my room.”

Tenko paused mid-sip, and he hastened to swallow. “Someone’s been breaking into your room?”

“Yeah,” you said, easing down the arm of the couch and onto its cushions, “I think. There’s no physical sign of entry, but my shit keeps going missing, and stuff that’s not mine keeps showing up. Let me tell you, I need some of that shit they’ve stolen; it’s hard to replace—”

Tenko touched your lips with three of his fingertips to quiet you, and he gestured for you to stay put while he scrambled over to his closet, where he stood on his toes to retrieve a wicker basket from the top shelf. He dropped the thing into your lap. “Are any of these yours?”

All of it was, missing things you blamed on everything from Dango to your stalker to your own forgetfulness: your favourite sweater, your trolley pass, lip balm, your shitty earbuds, your good pantyhose, your planner, your d10, and, among many smaller things, even that bright blue thong you’d lost in the wash (Well. It’s better to find your thong with your new boyfriend over finding them returned to your dorm coated in your stalker’s cum, you supposed).

“I was losing my goddamn mind,” Tenko was saying, “Stuff kept showing up. I thought it was a test at first—”

“I don’t have a stalker,” you said, absentmindedly rubbing the fabric of your thong between your fingers, “Your shit has been—you read that GINSENG TEA X LUSTFUL BALLSACK shit? Tenko.”

“Oh, you have that?” Tenko scratched the back of his neck, but not in his self-harm way; it reminded you of Shinsou’s nervous habit more than anything. “Haven’t you read it? Isn’t that what you were naming your characters after?”

“Ah, ha, ha. Moving on. What is important, though, is why and how this is happening to us.”

“Yeah, I don’t…”

The two of you spitballed for a while, long enough for the both of you to finish your bottles of gatorade and for Tenko to start another, and neither of you came up with anything substantial.

“Hell with it,” said Tenko, standing to stretch, his movement disturbing Dango from her nap in his basket of clean laundry, “Let’s go ask Aizawa-sensei.”

Aizawa was not pleased when he discovered the both of you waiting in his kitchen, but he listened to the story, and when you were done, he stepped out of the room to make a phone call. When he came back, he looked even more exhausted than when he’d first come in.

“I’ve just gotten off the phone with Sakura Grove,” said Aizawa, wincing when his bones creaked as he sat in his chair, “Tenko, do you remember villain in-fighting within the PLF? In particular, I’m asking if you remember breathing in a pink dust cloud. It would’ve been in Deika City, in the month between your fight with Re-Destro and your body modification surgery. If our sources are accurate, you would’ve been with Touya.”

Tenko scrunched up his face. “Why would I have been—hm.” Frowning, he reached into the bag of popcorn you’d commandeered from Aizawa’s cupboards. “I know what you’re talking about. They were only letting me eat healthy stuff in the week before I went under. Touya was taking me to scrounge for something salty and shitty for me, because I couldn’t take it anymore. He started hitting on someone he thought was a waitress, and she—this is why I remember it—she compared the width of her hand to his thigh and said no thanks.”

“That’s Ito,” said Aizawa, sighing and crossing his arms, settling his chin into his capture weapon, “When did she use her quirk?”

“She shoved her hand on Touya’s face when he opened his stupid mouth again, and he passed out with swarming, pink particles floating around his head. She turned to me—and she must not have recognised Touya, but she knew me, because her face lit the fuck up. She never touched me, but I remember having to sneeze.”

“She never told you what her quirk did?”

“I woke back up in the PLF headquarters. I assumed whoever picked me up had killed her and that her death negated any effects.” He narrowed his eyes. “Why? What does it do?”

Aizawa let out a soft laugh, muffled through his capture weapon, and he jerked his head in your direction. “You tell him,” he said, snatching the bag of popcorn and heading towards his bedroom.

***

He’d been nervous about wearing a suit. They reminded him of AFO.

But you’d strayed away from dark colours and too much structure, so his light greyish-blue suit jacket stayed unbuttoned even as you leant across to the passenger seat to adjust his All Might tie for him (a Put Your Hands Up Radio tie had been offered, but Tenko had already closed his fist around the striped tie Midoriya would loan him). Part of his bangs had been pinned back to show off his annoyingly handsome face, especially in how his sharp, red eyes observed caught every movement of your terrible attempt to tie the tie based on the pictures Aizawa had sent you.

“We’re not gonna be late, are we?” Tenko drawled out, the corner of his mouth quirking upward, hand resting on the car ceiling as he angled his chest towards you.

“Shush; we are in the parking lot,” you said, looping the larger end. Or were you supposed to be looping the smaller one? “Besides, the world won’t end if we’re a few minutes late to my class’s annual reunion.”

A flimsy excuse for a party, one made because hero agencies needed some sort of named event as an excuse to dismiss your friends en masse. But it was spring again, and they were coming out of the winter blues, and they wanted to see you again, so, hey, why don’t we work something in around your schedule? If you can’t come to this date, then we’ll reschedule it until you can.

And, like. They knew. They knew Tenko was your soulmate. You suspected they all wanted to see what he was like now, too, because no one but Shinsou, Midoriya, and, apparently, Bakugou had known.

You undid the loose knot and tried again. “Are you nervous?”

“No,” he said, scrutinising the tacky balloons and streamers swaying in the night breeze outside of the otherwise intimidatingly elegant venue, “but those kids might be.”

“Those kids happen to be friends my age,” you said, “and I’m barely younger than you are. They know you’re coming. You’re fine.”

Tenko sucked in through his teeth, tapping the roof of the car one finger at a time. “The last time they saw me was as a thing. An object of destruction.”

“Well, they’ll definitely see you as a human person when I spill how you designed a unicorn DND character for Eri.” You pulled the fabric taut but kept it from lying closely to his neck (a boy didn’t like feeling constrained). “You know what? This tie is as good as it’s gonna get.”

He ducked his chin to examine its knot. “It’s shit.”

“It adds to your devil-may-care, reformed-bad-boy sort of charm,” you said, giving the tie a final smooth-down and poorly suppressing your smile when you felt his muscles through his shirt. “Mathematically, there are only 85 ways to tie a standard tie knot. I don’t believe we’ve reached any of them.”

“How do you know these things? You’re unbeliev—” Tenko jerked his face out of view of the window as Aoyama and Kouda, gesturing wildly, strode past the car and into the venue. “Listen,” he said, clearing his throat, “I know I don’t care and that you don’t care, but other people will. Your reputation is gonna plummet right into its grave if we’re out in the open together.”

You shook your head, letting your smile show. “So, I fucked part of a rescue job almost a year ago. So what. So I’m dating my soulmate. Am I supposed to do otherwise? Honestly, Tenko,” you said, curling loose strands of hair behind his ear, letting your fingers linger around his cheek and neck (he leant into the touch), “I don’t care. I would’ve chosen you even without the soulmate bond. You’re too endearing to pass by. You’re too…babygirl.”

Tenko had been guiding your hand to his mouth, and he snorted before it got there, warm air scattering in a short burst. “Don’t call me that,” he said, pressing his lips to the centre of your palm and waiting until you met his gaze to retract them.

A different warmth shot to your lower stomach, but you had to keep pressing, for the sake of the bit. “Oh, then what should I—darling? Honey? Pookie bear?”

He scoffed and nipped at your pinkie. “None of those are good.”

“Tenko.”

He breathed in, shoulders rising, eyes fluttering shut. Taking a moment to kiss the tiny bite mark on your finger. “Yeah,” he said, opening his eyes in a slow blink, catlike, “Feels good. Feels—like coming home.”

Beaming, you reached down to lace his fingers through yours. All five of them squeezed back. “Then let’s go.”

soulmate trope taglist: @bakugouspsycho, @pansexualproblemchild, @doonaandpjs, @sunsetevergreen, @the-coffee-is-on-fire, @liberace2, @ladymidnight77, @nonomesupposedto, @gooooomz, @kissmebakugou, @pachiibatt, @celestair, @tiredkittykat, @cheshireshiya, @90s-belladonna, @infjsnightmare

[moumouton4]

Could i please request a Shikamaru Nara x fem!reader using the following prompt "Clothes Stay On" 💜

Clothes Stay On ( 2 ) || Shikamaru Nara x fem!reader

A/n : Hello my dear reader, I was so excited to write this when I got the notification and here it is ! It's inspired by the Prompt 14 of the Smutember 2023 with Tomura Shigaraki

A/n 2 : I hope I did Shikamaru's personnality honnor here as I tried to guess how he would be in a more private setting ( I've never watcher Boruto )

Warnings : grinding, clothed sex, penetrative sex implicit, 18+ READERS ONLY and wrap it before you tap it

Masterlist ⚜

I don’t give permission to repost my work, if you want to share it just reblogue it

Word count : 1373

Coming early from work usually meant one thing for you and Shikamaru : Sex. Well first resting a bit and then sex for him most of the days. Today was a bit different though since it was a day off for your lover. So that’s clearly excited and a little horny that you arrived at home, knowing that since he got a full day of rest he would surely not waste time before jumping your bones. As you looked at your watch it was 5 pm.

A little knowing smile was plastered on your lips all the way back to your house. You put your keys in the door and unlocked it at the speed of the light, before taking off your shoes and almost sprinting to the living room. He was slumped on the couch, looking up at the sky through the window - it was clearly too cold outside for him to bother to go out. His head turned towards the commotion and an equal but tired-ish smile appeared on his lips. It was undeniable that he was glad and relieved to have you back after a day of work.

Sitting on the edge of the couch, parallel to his body, you bent down before placing a loving kiss on his lips, which he returned eagerly “I missed you” you whispered as you placed your forehead against his still peppering his lips with soft pecks.

“‘missed you to Beautiful” he responded, with hand coming to rest on your thigh as he slowly woke up from his slumbering state.

Your eyes got stuck for a brief second on his hand that was rubbing the flesh of your leg before speaking “Would you mind if we you know shifted to the bedroom ?” As you asked this you expected nothing but a “of course let’s go” knowing how long it has been for both of you, adding to the fact that he had plenty of rest during his long nap day.

Though as his eyes locked onto yours, a smirk made his way on his lips as he answered “Yeah, I’m being quite comfy here”

Your mouth almost dropped as you tried to understand “Oh… okay well then I’m going to retrieve a condom. I’ll be ba-” you started to get up but he pulled you back down.

“We won’t need any to nap”

To… nap ? was he joking with you right ? since ( uh ) when was he the one trying to escape those moments ? His arms encircled your waist and he brought you flush against his warm and strong body.

“Shikamaru, what are you doing ?” you asked, our voice slightly muffled against his chest.

“Shh it’s going to rain soon” he only whispered. Was he serious ? like he was just going to listen to the rain and take another little nap, maybe the 300th this day while his needy girlfriend is slouched over him.

“You’re joking aren’t you ?” you asked, taking in the scent of his hair, he must have taken a shower because he smelled divinely.

“I think it’s better if we waited for tomorrow” he murmured back as if nothing, knowing him he clearly didn't mean any of this ( it is nothing you can say no and it must be respected but for the purpose of the fic we’re going to go another way )

“Shika, it's been 3 days” you stated.

“I know”

“Then why cancel when we could have our way now that it’s still early ?”

“Don’t worry you’ll get it one day” his arms tightened around you. That little tease, you could clearly see the smirk on his damn face and he played with your mind.

After a moment you decided that you would try to ignore the throb between your legs and actually rest with the sound of the rain as background. But then you felt something poking you “You know you could make it a little less obvious you know ?” this time it was your turn to tease him.

“My body responses are getting almost as troublesome as you woman” he sounded like he was pouting.

You chuckled “I seriously can’t understand you being so lazy even after a day of rest” ( those are somehow the worst sometimes ) “But don’t worry I’ve got an idea” and with that you slowly dragged your hips back and forth.

A low groan escaped his lips as he felt the heat of your clothed core grind on his hardening member “Mmh so clothes stay on ? I see you’re smarter than you seem”

“I’m also doing all the work so you better be grateful” you outbid, knowing that he was only jesting.

You kept grounding your center on his like this for what felt like an eternity ( 15 min lmao ). The heat was oh so slowly building inside you both, at this point if one looked a wet spot could be clearly noticeable on your pants, while on the other hand you managed to make quite a tent in Shikamaru’s.

“When is it you plan on helping me ?” you muttered, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on your forehead.

“Help ? With such a mouth I thought you were going to do it on your own. Thank gosh I’m allowed to participate”

“Come on don’t keep me waiting”

“What can’t handle a little tease from your man ?”

“You know I was horn- oh” you stuttered as you felt him grab your hips tightly and meet your grinding with those tantalizing thrusts of his. His dick was so hard it was almost painful not to have it inside you. Soon the soft and muffled sounds of your clothed bodies started to fill the room.

In no time he made you a moaning mess as he sped his pace. His mouth found its place against your neck as he grunted how wet you must be since he could feel it through all those layers. He knew he was close, and now thinking about it, it would have been a better move to take off your clothes than to cum in them and feel all weird and sticky. But now it was clear that both of you weren’t going to stop.

One of his hands left your hip to come rest on your backside and he pushed you even harder on his shaft, he should have been on top, it would have been easier for you both to get off, he is feeling like he is edging at this point. When your hips stuttered against his, he knew you would soon be coming, so he gathered his strength and manhandled you to accelerate your pace, his hips now relentlessly seeking yours.

“Oh yes yes Shika ah” you screamed in delight, finally coming after 3 long days.

It was actually what coaxed you towards the edge and seconds after he followed you. He continued sucking a hickey on the side of your neck as he climaxed in his pants. You then stayed like this for a moment just enjoying the post-climax bliss in each others arms;

After a moment though, your face contorted in slight discomfort, your clothes felt sticky and sweaty, clinging to your skin and at this point you couldn't but sit up on the couch and take them off.

As you were taking off your shirt you heard the sound of plastic being torn up. Once your shirt stopped blocking your view, you almost gasped in surprise when you saw Shikamaru rolling a condom on his still throbbing length. First of all, when was he so fast ? Sometimes you forget that he also is a ninja. And also that little shit, of course he would have hidden a condom within reach.

His naked form got closer to yours, his member tantalizingly close to poking your leg “Now what about we end this day of rest in the best way ?” he said, his voice dropping to a seductive tone.

“Of course you had something in mind” you chuckled, getting closer to him.

“I always have something in mind” he simply stated, before taking a hold of you and pulling you down on him the way he should have moments ago. It was still raining outside and he loved its sound as much for sleeping as for making love.

[mossy-opal]

Succubus

Shigaraki x Reader

Warnings: SMUT!!!! SMUT SMUT SMUT!!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!!

It was difficult, living in this world and being what you are. It's not your fault, you were born this way! All those years ago, you were brought into this world and taught how to live.

You lived off of pleasure, and off of the souls of those you pleased. It wasn't all bad, but it was difficult when you were picky.

You weren't like most succubi, you had certain tastes. You didn't settle for every average Joe who came across you and fell into your trap of beauty and lust. Sure, it made you weak and very hungry, but your resolve was strong.

You liked it when they wanted you for more than just your body and pleasure. You liked it when you felt something for them. It broke your heart every time one of your new playthings died, but what were you expecting?

Mates for a Succubus were a rare thing, and frankly, you were losing hope.

That is, until you met him.

Your resolve was almost broken before you had met, thinking that you'd have to settle, go to a bar to find some poor schmuck to get yourself fed.

And there he was, in a dark alley at night, probably making his way home, but you were stuck.

He was beautiful. Light blue-ish gray hair, striking features, beautifully red eyes, and the cutest beauty mark. He noticed your staring almost immediately, and he got aggressive quickly.

"What!?"

"I'm- I'm sorry, I just... Have we met?"

"Tch... No...?"

Gods, his voice was making you weak! You laughed it off, immediately turning on your charm.

"Well I'm certain I'd remember someone like you... Who wouldn't~?"

He stepped back when you stepped forward, before you put your hands up in defense.

"I'm sorry, I'm just awe-struck by you..."

He huffed a small chuckle, before he moved past you. You were on his tail immediately, a small smile on your face. He didn't seem to mind your following, but he did stop again soon.

"What do you want?"

"May I ask for your name?"

He turned back with a glare. "Not until you give me yours first."

You gave him your name, and he looked you up and down, before he turned with a small huff.

"Come with me."

And that, was how you met Tomura Shigaraki, leader of the League of Villains.

Your work relationship went well, and surprisingly, being in his presence alone satiated you. It was new, not feeling nearly as empty as usual, and stronger too. He made your wings soar, and it made you feel fantastic.

He never asked for more from you, but you were always sure to go above and beyond for him. Always going the extra mile, just for him.

He noticed, too. He originally thought it was a joke, how close you seemed to be to him. You were very touchy, very flirtatious, and he didn't exactly know how to handle it. No one really complimented him the way you did, or touched him as softly as you did, or did anything the way you did. You were... Odd.

But, he grew used to it. He... He liked it. He liked you.

You knew that, and you loved it.

It really did something for you, so, you decided to make the next move. To truly, seal the deal with him.

Hearing a knock on his door he grunted, not in the mood to talk to anyone. He didn't answer, but he was shocked when the door opened.

Whoever it was truly had a death wish.

"Dabi I swear to god if you bug me right now I'll-"

"I'm not here to bug you, boss~"

Oh, it was you. He grumbled, less annoyed, but still not in the mood for your games.

"Whatever, I'm tired... Go away."

You chuckled, and it sounded different from your usual laughs or giggles, it sounded... He didn't even know how it sounded.

"I'd normally listen to you with no hesitation, but I have something to ask of you~"

Here it is. You didn't even ask for a place to stay while working recon for him, so he expected he'd have to pay you with something eventually. He sighed, turning around in his chair.

"What is it then?" He asked, seemingly irritated.

You walked up to him slowly, something about you seemed very different now. Maybe it was your eyes- A haircut? He was bad at these things, he didn't know!

Then suddenly, the room seemed... Darker than it normally was. His computer monitors were still on, his game paused in the background, but everything just felt really heavy.

"I've been looking for you for a very long time.... I'm so happy to finally have found you~"

"What are you talking about...?"

Why did you smell different? Not like he knew what you smelled like or anything, but he definitely noticed how different it was now.

Your chuckle rang through his ears, louder than it was before. Everything seemed much heavier, and he figured it was a part of your quirk- You mentioned this was something you could do, right?

"Tomura, I have to be honest with you... I don't have a quirk."

That got his attention, but what got even more of his attention was the tail swaying behind you.

"W-what-"

"Not only that, I've been feeding off of you- I'm so sorry... I just couldn't help it. All the attention you gave me, it felt so good, it did so much to feed me, and that's when I knew it..."

He couldn't even speak, confused and a bit concerned, what exactly was he working with?

"You're my mate, Tomura~"

Looking in your eyes, he swore he could see hearts. He'd be flattered if he wasn't so damn confused- This has never happened before, he doesn't know how to handle this sudden admission of feelings! Sure, he returned the sentiment, he just didn't know how to... Respond.

"I know this is overwhelming for you, and I'm sorry you had to learn this way, but I had to be sure, y'know?"

The whine he responded with when he nodded made you fall to your knees in front of him, a hungry look in your eyes.

"Ugh, you're so hard to resist Tomura~"

"W-what... What are you...?"

Your hands were on his knees as you got closer to him, a pair of wings emerging from your lower back, your tail swaying even faster as you contained your eagerness.

"I'm a succubus, baby~"

His breath hitched, his legs jumping as your hands moved up his thighs.

"And I want you."

He could barely breathe, everything was happening so fast and he didn't know what to do. He pushed himself back, away from you for a second to try and at least calm down.

"W-what do you- What exactly do you want from me? Succubus... You guys... You eat souls- Right...? I think..."

You shook your head, standing up, lifting your shirt over your head. Tomura looked away, not wanting to look at you, despite how mesmerising you were.

"Usually yes, we feed off peoples pleasure, and take their souls when we're satiated. But, seeing as though you feed me with just your attention, I don't need your soul. You're my true mate, something that's thought to have been a myth- or a legend amongst my kind~"

Tomura could almost laugh, looking back at you before looking away again quickly; you were shimmying out of your pants.

"F-fuck well I thought- I-I thought stuff like- Succubi were... Made up..."

You moved closer to him again, leaning onto the arms of his chair as he moved to cross his legs, moving his sweater to cover his groin. You giggled at how shy he was, making him look you in the eyes.

His breath hitched again, unsure of where exactly to look. His eyes flickered from your chest to your nethers, back to your eyes.

"Tomura.... Can I have you~?"

He wanted to, he really, really wanted to, but he didn't know if he should agree...

"I promise nothing bad will happen, and I won't hurt you~"

He gulped, "Uh... S-sure... Yeah- Whatever..."

You shook your head, putting your forehead to his. The sudden intimacy actually helped cool his nerves ever so slightly.

"No darling, I want to hear a yes. Because it's true, I want you, and I want to mate with you."

"I-I said sure-"

You giggled again, giving him a soft kiss. He whined at the feeling, kissing you back with a passion he hadn't felt before. The sudden change in his attitude was pleasant, something that you weren't really expecting. He pulled away from you before pushing himself out of his chair, grabbing your face with both of his hands, careful to keep his pinkies raised (even if he was unsure he could hurt you). He kissed you again, deeply. He pushed his tongue into your mouth, making you moan as you put your arms around his shoulders, letting him walk you back to his bed. He pushed you down, pulling away from you as he hovered above you, the both of you huffing for breath from the kiss.

"Is that enough of a 'yes' for you?"

The needy gravel in his voice was to die for.

You smiled wide, pulling him into another kiss, the both of you tonguing the others mouths, each of you pulling and squeezing at anything you could get your hands on. Tomura gripped your chest and your hips, pulling your thighs apart to press himself against you.

You were gripping his hoodie, before pulling at the waistband of his pants and underwear, shoving your hands up his hoodie, feeling his stomach and chest.

He pulled off of you quickly, yanking his hoodie off, before standing and pulling his pants down with an eager swiftness.

You imagined him to be just as pretty, but you didn't expect him to be this gorgeous.

The smile on your face worried him slightly, it made him think it was a joke again, maybe it was all an act.

"Get over here. Now."

The demand in your voice snapped him out of his sudden doubt, the hunger in your eyes was hard to resist. He crawled over you again, kissing you over and over. Softer, this time. You grind against him, making him moan and whine against your mouth.

You felt your wings flutter beneath you as you fed off his pleasure, and you felt vastly different from your previous toys.

You felt his love. You felt everything he felt, his doubt, his fear, his lust, his need. But most of all, you felt his love for you. You moaned when he touched you with two fingers, toying with your hole.

"Aah- Tomuraaah~"

"Fuck.... So needy, huh~?"

You wiggled your hips against his hand, your tail wrapping around his leg as he pushed his fingers into you slowly. Your mouth opened wide with the most sinful moan he'd ever heard, it was better than he'd imagined, even better than any pornstar he'd watched. He slowly fingered you open, scissoring you carefully, kissing your jaw and biting your neck as be listened to you. He never thought he'd get this hard, just from foreplay alone.

Your hands clawed into his sheets and his mattress, and he swore he saw you tearing the fabric.

"Tomuraaa, please- Please stop teasing me, I want you- need you~!"

With begging like that, how could he refuse? He pulled away from your beautifully marked up neck, and he was surprised, to say the least. Horns were atop your head, fangs poking out, your face already looking perfectly fucked out.

"Please fuck me baby, pleeeaaase~?"

Your whines and begging were enough to drive someone mad, and he was the one to hear them. You wanted him, you needed him. Lining himself up, he pushed into you quickly, shuddering a moan at the feeling of just how fucking hot you felt.

The gutteral moans the both of you exchanged made your eyes roll into the back of your head, your mouth falling open even wider as he was finally, finally inside of you.

"Aaaaagh- Yes~! Yes yes yeeeess! Thank you Tomura, t-thank yoouaaah~!"

He huffed a chuckle, gripping your thighs tight before pushing them against your chest, over his shoulders.

"Don't thank me- uGh- Yet~"

As soon as he said that, his hips snapped, making you moan in his ear, and making him shudder above you. He already felt close, but he held out- If only for you. His movements were quick, sloppy, he thrusted as fast as he could, as harshly as he could, as he shoved his tongue down your throat, swallowing your moans and your cute noises. Your moaning was endless as you fed from him, drinking in his sexual desire and energy, feeling yourself being more full than you've ever felt.

In more ways than one.

Your tail wrapped tightly around his leg as your wings helped push you against him, meeting his hips with every thrust.

He lifted himself up, smirking down at you, "Wa-Want me to cum in you? Fill you up? Haa?"

You cried out with a smile, "YeEess! Yes yeS! Please baby~! Please fuck me full! W-waahnt it~ want you! Want you~! M-more~!"

Tomura laughed condescendingly, groaning at the feeling of you fluttering around him as you felt him get closer. He couldn't last much longer than this- It was already too much.

Without much more stimulation, he came hard and quick. You had never cum as hard as you did with Tomura balls deep inside of you, your climaxes combined to drip out of you. You both moaned out, loud, your hands clawing the bed to shreds as you cried out in ecstasy.

As you both caught your breath, Tomura pulled out of you and laid on his bed, exhausted, you couldn't help but laugh.

Tomura groaned. Barely able to, he moved to lay on his back, looking at you.

"W... What.. What's so funny...?"

You slowly and carefully moved to sit on him, straddling his lap, your clawed hands on his chest, a sly smile on your face. Your tail waved behind you as your wings stretched out.

"Oooh baby... I'm far from finished with you~"

Tags: @slayersins @shadowsandshapes @dabislittlemouse @dabislittlebeaniebaby @the-milk-anon @shockinglysubmissive @elias-fable @starstruck-flames @daniidil @223princess

[i-cant-sing]

Would you ever consider doing platonic yanderes where the reader is the characters mom? Reader is married to the dad and the whole family is yandere?

(Example; Reader is married to Enji (a romantic yandere) and the kids are platonic yanderes to their mom (reader), either Rei doesn’t exist or Reader is their stepmom)

Or reader finding the LOV when they were kids and just adopting them herself instead of them going down the villain path and they become platonic yanderes for the mother that wanted and loved them? (I’m a sucker for platonic yanderes)

-💗

Been there, done that. Have u read Yandere overhaul as a president au???? Its literally that, with Overhaul being yandere for his fake wife reader so that he could gain popularity and become president, and then they have triplets- Dabi, Himiko and Tomura, all of who are yanderes for their mommy. And I take it a step further by making the entire world yandere for reader.

I have thought about another au where reader, just barely entering into adulthood, suddenly has to adopt Dabi (she took him in after he ran away from home and found him sleeping in an alley). She worked very hard to bond with Dabi, and after a few months, he finally began opening up to her affection (he let's her cuddle him, and kiss his forehead before tucking him in her bed while she takes the couch because she knows Dabi has still has some issues with physical touch). Despite having little to no savings, she puts him in school (the same place where she works part time as a janitor. Though she hides herself when he's with his classmates because she doesn't want him to feel ashamed- not that he ever would). There's been one to many times when reader didn't know where the next meal would come from, but she made sure Dabi never went to sleep hungry (she would work as a server at parties and would sneak some of the food into her bag for him). Reader fell sick quite a few times because of how overworked she was, but she never had the money to get herself some medicine. However, she always found a way to get Dabi the very expensive ointment for his burns and scars. She always wore used clothes and sewed them with patches wherever they were torn, and she'd outgrown her shoes 2 years ago, but she made sure that Dabi was always well dressed, and he always got brand new clothes (she never wanted him to feel inferior to his peers. She knows how mean kids could be.) And somehow, even with multiple jobs, she made sure to be there for him on all important days, celebrated all his achievements no matter how small, and even when Dabi grows up, he can't wrap his head around why you would do all of that? How could one be so selfless, especially to a stranger she knew nothing about?

In fact, there was even a time when Dabi ran away from your house, feeling guilty for what you'd been putting yourself through for him and how he had hurt your feelings after a stupid argument. He was in shock when he saw you running around the city looking for him, tears in your eyes as you asked people to help you find "my son!" And when you finally found him, the first thing that came out of your mouth was,

"Are you okay?"

Not anger, Not rage for worrying you- but genuine concern for his well being. Dabi all but ran into your arms and broke down, sobbing into your chest and he never had to say it out loud for you to understand how sorry he was.

From there on, you two had a good relationship. I could see that perhaps reader finds a stable job as a barista at a cafe, and a part time tutor (because she is well educated), and perhaps she had been hired by Tomura's parents to teach him and his sister, and you were the best teacher they had. Then one day, Tomura accidentally murdered his family and you only found him because you were on your way to tutor him. The trauma in his eyes, in his face- it was all enough for you to understand that he didn't want this to happen. So, you reach for him, but be he jumps back, claiming that he'd kill you. You don't know what happened, but you talked to him, calmed him down, and when you finally reached for him, he didn't pull back. And when you didn't turn into a pile of ashes (maybe because of a hidden quirk, maybe because you had calmed him down), he all but jumped into your arms, wanting all the warmth and comfort you could provide. You of course, took him home and didn't contact the police because that would've turned everything to shit for Tomura and he was far to young to be experiencing cops and courts and investigations, who yo were sure would find a way to incriminate him and send him go jail or worse. You had introduced Dabi to Tomura and told him that he would staying here.

Dabi being jealous and protective of you, snarled "For how long?"

You smiled and rubbed Tomura's back in a comforting manner. "For as long as he'd like."

While reader being poor and helpless and working herself to the bone would be the typical plot to go, how about a reader who is rich- Maybe a year after she adopted Dabi, she has suddenly got a hefty inheritance from a distant relative. The first thing she does is legally adopt Dabi (with his consent of course), then adds his name in her will (he was very moved by it, but he cried alone in his room). Then Tomura comes along, and she also adopts him legally and the two "brothers" are always fighting with each other, only stopping around you because of how gravely it upsets you when they don't get along. From a very young age, you had told them that the two of them are family and they always have to stick together, have each other's backs no matter what. So while they act amicably in front of you, the moment you leave the room, they are at each other's necks.

Now that you're rich and the boys are all grown up, you decide its time for you to find love. But Dabi and Tomura have other plans.

One thing that they do agree upon is that no man or woman you date is ever gonna be good for you. So all of your dates are always gonna end up missing or ghosting you. I can also see them actively trying to prevent you from adopting more kids because they don't like to share, they don't want other greedy assholes (aka poor orphans) taking advantage of your kindness.

Maybe after you give them control of your company and decide to retire and go on a vacation, Dabi and Tomura will hire men to keep tabs on you, protect you, put a tracker on you so that they know where you are at all times. And when they find out that you're on a vacation with a "secret lover", their blood boils, more so when they find out that your s/o has proposed to you and you agreed.

IMMEADIATELY you're flown back home by their bodyguards, and you can struggle all you want, their not letting you go (although Dabi and Tomura had ordered them not to a hurt a hair on your head. You're just too soft and fragile). When you're brought home and find out that it was your own sons who did this, you are furious, yelling at them that that they can't do this.

Dabi narrows his eyes at you. "Of course, we can. We're looking out for you because you don't know whats good for you. Like lying to us and going out with some measly pervert."

Your eyes widened. How did he know? "You've been spying me-?"

"Its for your own good." Tomura said, cupping your cheek. "You're old now, so you can't take care of yourself. Just let us do it. Listen to us."

You recoiled back from him, confusion evident on your as you looked back and forth between them. What are they talking about?

"I- I don't understand this- you shouldn't be spying on me! I'm an adult! I can take care of myself. And who I date or see is not your concern! I'm well equipped to make my own decisions! And then to have me dragged here with no explanation! What would s/o think?! You've embarrassed me in front of him!" You scolded them but they both shared a look. "I'm gonna have to call him back, but this isn't over!"

"You don't have to worry about him anymore, mom." Tomura said, and you began to worry when he didn't offer an explanation.

"What do you mean?"

Dabi spoke this time, face stoic as ever. "He's been taken care of."

What?

The longer they remained silent, the more the daunting realisation hit you.

"I- no..."

Seeing the terrified look on your face, Dabi attempted to comfort you by grabbing your forearms.

"He's been taken care of. You won't ever see him again."

"No- no!" You began to struggle in his arms, trying to break free but he towered over you and held you tighter. "No! You didnt- no! Let go! LET GO! LET GO! LET GO! LET GO-!"

Tears slipped from your eyes at the silent confession of a heinous crime came from your sons, the news being too much as you lost consciousness, both from the shock and from the tiredness.

Dabi lifted you up and began walking to your room, tucking you under the covers as you felt them kiss your cheek, too tired to even flinch away from the murderers.

Perhaps they're right. Maybe you are too old now.

[shadowsandshapes]

[Spicy] Calling the Shots (F!Reader/Tomura Shigaraki)

Summary: Too much screen time isn't good for you, so you decide to take matters into your own hands when Shigaraki is spending all day playing video games. You know just how to treat him right.

Rated: For Fuck's Sake Do Not Read This In Public You Heathen, Don’t Show Your Mom, Don’t Show Your Dad – Repent Afterwards, Amen! (Mature) 

Contains: Mommy Kink, Unprotected Sex, Praise, Denial Play, Body Worship Themes, Submissive Shigaraki

MINORS DNI 🔪

Ao3: [HERE]

“Tomura –” 

At the sound of your voice, Shigaraki looked up from his game to find you sprawled across his bedsheets. You sounded stern when you spoke and he realized you were scolding him for being glued to the screen again.

“Yes, (Y/n)?” If it were anyone else, he would have told them to fuck off. But not you – not his beautiful, beloved darling girl.

Your hands traveled down your body, making a show of groping your curves for him before settling on your breasts – an open invitation. “Come here, baby –” you purr, half-lidded eyes gleaming with desire. Tomura’s throat ran dry as you spread your legs. He couldn’t look away – not even the siren call of his character getting brutally murdered in-game was enough to tear his eyes away from you. Game Over. You patted the edge of the bed. “Sit right here for me, baby boy –” and he didn’t hesitate, dumping his game on the floor unceremoniously to heed your request.

The way he scrambled to please you had your heart racing. Tomura was such a precious thing – especially when he shivered beneath your touch like this. Your fingers scratched their way up the side of his neck, moving to tangle with his pretty white locks. He groaned – eyes closing as you tugged at the strands. “(Y/n)...” he begged – oh, what a lovely sound. 

“Are you gonna be good for me, Tomura?” you asked, slinging your leg across his lap to straddle him beneath you. Your lips pressed against his neck – he swallowed, hard. There was nothing quite like making the big, bad Tomura Shigaraki squirm. He sputtered something incoherent and you tugged at his hair again. “Well? Use your words. If you don’t want it, I can–”

His reaction was immediate: “No! Don’t go. I’ll be good – I’ll be good!” Desperate, crimson eyes stared back at you – saturated with longing and desire. The sight brought a smirk to your lips. “Please…I wanna feel good.”

How could you refuse? 

A quick shove had him falling back onto the bed – Shigaraki watched with bated breath as you crawled on top of him. Something about your eyes – the intensity and fire of them – had him feeling weak in the knees. No one else could ever treat him like this. No one would ever earn his submission like this. Only you. Whenever you got like this, he felt like he was losing his mind. One moment you were the sweet girl he’d claimed as his own, the next you had him begging and crying for the most filthy things. The thought alone was enough to make his cock rock hard. 

You made quick work of his clothes, discarding them on the floor, then worked on your own. Tomura liked the lingerie you wore, so you kept your bra and stockings on – just for him. Sure enough – his lust-blown eyes honed in on your chest as soon as you took your shirt off. The way he licked his lips caught your attention. Fuck. His lovestruck admiration was making your body tingle. The man certainly knew how to make a girl feel special – Tomura was practically drooling at the sight of you. You wouldn’t deny it was one hell of a confidence boost. 

The tips of your fingers brushed over his cock, barely ghosting the skin with their touch. Tomura whined, bucking his hips to chase the friction in vain. You laughed. “Easy now – there’s no rush.” Oh but there was. Your lovely boyfriend was a desperate little man and you knew it. The moment you had presented yourself, Tomura was already overcome with need. Touch was a big thing for him, after all. He had developed a habit of chasing intimacy at every opportunity and you had taken it upon yourself to teach him patience. 

Some things ought to be savored. 

You pumped his cock – marveling at the sweet sounds Tomura was making. He kept one of his knuckles pressed between his teeth but it did nothing to muffle his moans. “You’re so loud,” you teased. “I love it. Go on, baby – let it out.” The smooth motion of your hand on his cock and your words of encouragement made him break his inhibitions. Gasps, groans and curses poured from his lips as he thrashed on the bed, bucking his hips into your palm. Every flick of your wrist had his inching closer to release. His cock throbbed at your touch and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride at how easily you made him feel so good. Just as he was about to cum, you withdrew – holding your hands up.

“Fuck, no –” Tomura groaned out – giving you the nastiest, most desperate glare he could muster in his current state. It gave you immense satisfaction to see him reduced to a whining mess like this. “Please – let me finish,” he pleaded, struggling to catch his breath as you ran a single finger around the base of his shaft. “Please, please, please –” Wait for it… “Please, mommy, please –”

There it was. 

“Good boy, Tomura –” you praised, leaning down to lick a single, teasing strip up the side of his cock. He groaned sweetly – tossing his head back in pure bliss as you mounted his lap. “You want me to ride you, sweet boy?” You grinded your hips against him, slicking up his cock with your own juices. If he had a response ready, it died in his throat as a loud moan took its place. 

Eventually, Tomura managed to respond. “Yes, mommy, please –” 

Holy shit. You didn’t think you’d be into this so much, but hearing his broken voice beg for you to fuck him was driving you crazy. He looked so hot, biting at his bottom lip to fight the urge to moan. Hair all messed up and pupils blown wide with lust. You sank down on his cock, keeping your eyes glued to his face. His expression changed – flooding with relief as you rocked your hips. You could feel him twitching inside of you, eager for release. His hands felt lonely though. Touching you was risky, but you had a system in place for that too. As soon as you got a rhythm going, you leaned forward and pinned his hands to the mattress. He kept his palms open but allowed you to grab onto them. There was something so intimate about the gesture that had him addicted to it. Tomura could only stare up at you as you rode his cock, drinking in the sight of you. Such a beautiful and amazing creature. Unafraid of his love. He watched your body move against his – noting every curve and dip of your silhouette. The lace of your bra against your skin was so tempting – so gorgeous. The fact that you kept it on for him made his heart race. 

You had delayed his release – but it was still fast approaching. Your tightening cunt had him seeing stars and when you kissed his lips it was all over. You swallowed his cry of pleasure – feeling him shake and shudder as he emptied himself within you. Every buck of your hips was accompanied by a spurt of his seed, allowing you to ride out your own orgasm. In the end, you’d made quite a mess of his sheets, but it had been worth it. Ragged breathing filled the silence. Both yours and his. Your fingers brushed across Tomura’s palms as he came down from his high – you rolled off him, taking your place by his side. He cuddled closer and you wrapped your arms around him. 

“Bath time,” you announced. Aftercare was important too – and you both smelled like sweat.

“Just a minute –” he said. “Let me enjoy this just a little longer.”

Alright. You could agree to that – “Cuddles and then bath.”

“Deal.”

A/N: I...I don't know what to say for myself honestly. Give me a submissive man and I lose it. I know this probably isn't everyone's cup of tea, but as a notorious switch I crave control over men.

[masterlist]

[satancopilotsmytardis]

Oh? Do you have an example of those thirst/pining texts?

Tomura: I am going to kill myself

Spinner: It's 6:43 in the morning what the fuck could he have done this time that's got you contemplating death and waking me up?

Spinner: If you tell me you had a dream or something I'm gonna stab you myself and you won't have to worry about suicide.

Tomura: I went down to the gym to train, and I heard water and saw a lot of steam coming out of the locker room. Went in and heard the showers running but all the lights were off. I figured someone might have forgotten to turn them off or something and he was just. In the shower. Fully clothed, drenched, leaning back against the tiles.

Tomura: He was so hot the steam was all coming from /him/. His eyes were practically glowing.

Spinner: and I'm sure that his soaking wet white t-shirt had nothing to do with your current thirst.

Tomura: No, that was definitely a contributing factor. Have you seen his chest?

Tomura: Also you owe me ¥2000, his nipples ARE pierced. He said he was going back out to train. He didn't even dry off because he's evaporating the water. I have to kill myself because if I go back out there and have to watch him train dripping wet I'm going to do something else stupid.

Spinner: at this point I am literally begging you to just go out and ask him to fuck. I cannot deal with this shit anymore. Just fucking rip off the band-aid dude.

Tomura: ....

Tomura: you're right

Spinner: wait, shit, really???

...

Spinner: I DO NOT want details, but did you actually fuck???

Spinner: Seriously, Shig, it's been like 4 hours and no one has seen either of you all day????

Tomura: We didn't fuck.

Tomura: I went out to talk to him and barely got a word out before he collapsed. We're with Ujiko. Dabi apparently is suffering from mild heat stroke, exhaustion, and dehydration. He's on an IV and got a mild sedative to sleep. I'll text the others about the meeting, but we probably won't be back until later tonight or tomorrow.

Spinner: shit, yeah, okay. I hope he feels better soon

Spinner: he works too hard, you both do. You know that the rest of us are here to help if you guys just loosen up a bit, yeah?

Tomura: I know, thank you.

Tomura: He is very cute when he sleeps tho

[Tomura has sent a picture]

Spinner: no, nope, I know you're in love with him but that it some creepy shit dude, even for villains

[Tomura has deleted a picture]

Spinner: it's also creepy if you sit at his bedside and watch him sleep all day.

Tomura: from what I understand, it's very normal for friends and family to stay by someone's side if they're in the hospital. Since he won't tell us about himself, we're the closest thing he has as far as we know. I'm staying

Spinner: Creep

Tomura: I've been called worse

[mushroommanstan]

Bullet Holes

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shigaraki x nurse reader

Warnings: smut, handjob, noncon

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He itched at the bandages, exhausted by both physical and mental irritation. How many god damn times did he have to say he was fine? Ok, yes, he DID get shot in the chest twice. But they didn’t hit anything important so no harm no fowl!

He just doesn’t see why he needs a nurse for the league. Having one would send the message (to himself) that they’re planning to fail. No. No, he doesn’t need a doctor. He has kurogiri, he has bandages, and he has tweezers. That’s all he needs.

His bedroom door creaked, sending a burst of unwanted hallway light into his dark room, effectively burning his retinas. He blinked, growling at the intrusion and turning in his swivel chair to see who it was. His eyes took a couple of seconds to adapt, but when they did….

Holy mother of all that was holy.

You were GORGEOUS. The instant his eyes cleared up he sat up straight instinctively, something which he never does. His eyes widened farther than they had before, dry eyes burning and begging him to blink but he’d be damned if he stopped looking at you for even a nanosecond. He didn’t even know your name and yet you had this weird control over his body. He wasn’t complaining though.

You had both hands behind your back, wait for him to say something, maybe along the lines of “hi I’m Shigaraki” or “get the fuck out”. Anything other than the way he was looking at you…. Guess you’ll have to be the one to break the ice.

“Uhm…” you cleared your throat, averting your eyes from his intense stare meekly. “I-Im y/n”

“Y/n…” he muttered, lips barely moving as his expression remained unchanged. Creepy.

“Y-you must be Shigaraki Tomura?”

Y-you said his name!

As soon as his name left your mouth anime-style blood shot out of his nose.

“OH JESUS!” You yelled, rushing over with a towel trying to put pressure on the bleeding. Unfortunately in doing so he got a good view down your shirt and the blood flow increased.

It took a while, but eventually you were able to stop it, having to stick tissues up his nose that turned red almost instantly, matching the tomato-red blush that painted his face. You wiped your forehead with the back of your hand, relieved that was over, and began doing what you were supposed to do the whole time.

Checking for damages, cleaning wounds, bandaging bullet holes, that sort of thing. The whole time he said nothing, just breathed heavily as his eyes followed you and his hands gripped the armrests of his chair tightly.

Obviously you noticed his boner. You didn’t even need to look, it was clear from how he was acting he was at full mast. You did get a glance though, and from the looks of it, he’s already surpassing his Sensei in something. Good for him.

Anyways, after it was all done you leaned back from the now shirtless Shigaraki, hoping that he would just let you go in silence.

“W-wait!”

Ah, damn. You were already so close to the door too.

You forced a fake smile, exhausted and more than a little creeped out, more than ready for this to be over.

“Yeah?” You asked, failing to hide your annoyance and you cursed yourself for it. You were so distracted by his… libido, that you forgot that who you were working for was the most infamously unstable man in Japan. You held your breath slightly, hoping to god that his obvious lust for you would help him forgive your unprofessional tone.

“I… I also got shot… in the thigh.” He leaned back into his chair, cock visibly twitching as you stared at him in confusion. You mentally replayed what kurogiri told you, even checked the handwritten list of things to look for. But nowhere could you remember anything about leg injuries.

It was an obvious trick. But at the same time, you really couldn’t afford leaving a potential injury of his untreated. The possibility of him sexually harassing you was far better than facing the consequences of anything getting infected. He was AFO’s heir, after all.

You breathed out, mentally preparing yourself for whatever he was planning as you sulked over to him. A devilish smile creeped over his face, drool escaping a little bit down the sides as you got on your knees before him. You shuddered. You’ll just take a quick peek, and then you’ll forget this ever happened.

You pulled his pant legs up, gently turning and feeling them with your fingers as they flexed from your touch. His leg hairs stood on end as your finger brushed over them, and you almost felt bad from the way his body was projecting his inexperience of contact. But one glance upwards at his facial expression removed all sympathy.

“H-higher. I got shot higher up.”

You mentally sighed, eyebrows scrunching together as you looked down in defeat. Your hands raised and pulled down his pants, his hips lifting slightly to help you. Thankfully, the boxers he was wearing were pretty short, so you could just look at the muscles without taking them off.

…..Huh

Well what do you know. There actually WAS a bullet hole. Damn, now you actually kind of feel bad for assu-

Two hands grabbed the back of your head yanked you towards him, effectively smushing your face against his crotch. He bucked his hips against your face, strong hands effectively keeping you trapped as you desperately squirmed beneath him.

He sympathetically shushed you between his whimpers, your nose being harshly ground into his sack as your muffled screams filled the air.

“S-shhh! I kn-ngaaah~ I know, I-I know, just… fuck… just a-ahh! Hold s-still!” He groaned, one hand leaving your head to dust his boxers and free his dick against your face. Thankfully his retraction of one hand allowed your head to squirm out of his grasp, you immediately falling backwards as you wiped the drool from your face.

You’d expect him to look frustrated or murder-y, but instead he looked at you… amused. Maybe a little impatient, but like a cat losing hold of a mouse in a small box. Like there was no where to escape to even when out of his grasp.

He moaned in pain dramatically, grasping his leg as he writhed in pain.

“Ugh… it really hurts… why won’t you treat it? It’s gonna get infected!”

What?!

“Huff… would be a shame if you left knowing I was still in pain. I would hate to think what would happen to you if you left the job… incomplete.” The last word rolled off his tongue, a suggestive purr that made bile rise up the back of your throat.

That unbelievable bastard!…he-he wouldnt!

“I can’t treat you while you’re…. molesting me.” You respond, trying to reason with an already full cup. His erection visibly twitched.

“Mmmm…. That’s a shame… guess you’re gonna have to take care of this first.”

You gulped, contractually backed into a corner. You run different scenarios in your head, none of them good. You didn’t have a choice and he knew it.

Begrudgingly, you made your way back to him on your hands and knees. He cackled darkly, his length visibly throbbing when your shaky hands planted themselves onto his knees. You couldn’t bring yourself to look up at him. Despite the consequences, you knew that if you saw the surely cocky face he was sporting you’d no doubt try to cave it in.

You took a deep breath, hand reluctantly raising to his length. As soon as your fingers ghosted over his shaft, he let out a lewd moan that reverberated around the room. Sensitive.

His pre-cum trickled over your fingers as they formed a loose fist, trying to jerk him off with the least amount of contact possible. He groaned at the contact, even with just the bare minimum of touches he could already feel himself becoming undone. To think, someone as stunningly beautiful as you would be touching him like you are right now, it’s shocking to say the least.

Oh god, what did he ever do to deserve this? Tell him so he could do it again.

His own firm grip formed over yours, forcing the rest of your hand to press into his junk. He mewled, using your hand as a soft barrier against his rough skin as he jerked off with it. You were nothing more than a toy right now, but frankly, you were just glad he was satisfying himself without the use of any of your holes.

His fingers ghosted over yours, puppeteering them and forcing them to squeeze at this tip on the upstrokes. His legs bounced and jerked in stimulation, almost throwing you off balance from time to time as one arm still rested on his knee for support. His grip on your hand kept you in place. You could feel cool drops of liquid land on your forehead and elbows, and you almost wanted to die when you realized he was drooling on you.

Like counting during a storm, you knew he was getting close based on his twitches getting closer together.

A part of you was relieved, very relieved, that it was almost over. In a couple of seconds you’d be able to finish up, go home, take a hot bath and forget all about this.

Another part of you was terrified because currently, his tip was angled towards you. If he didn’t by some miracle change the position of his cock then your face would take his full load.

Surprise surprise, he didn’t. His cock exploded against your face with a loud moan. Both his hands rising to smoosh your face into his package once more as it shot out his jizz like a fountain.

To say there was a lot would be an understatement.

It seemed like this guy basically never jerks off. He was back up to hell, a seemingly unending line of cum painting your face as he humped it vigorously.

In the back of your mind, you had realized that this is why he was so sensitive when you unwillingly touched him. His whole body must have been screaming for release. You almost felt bad for him as his behavior towards you started to make sense. It wasn’t enough to make you forgive him though.

Especially not when he’s still humping your face like an animal and drizzling your hair with his white release.

When he finally finished he sagged back, panting like he had just surfaced from the sea of lust he had nearly drowned in. Your face and hair was completely soaked in his backed up release, and you needed to wipe some of it from your eyes before you could stand to look up at him.

Now that he lied boneless before you, you figured you would finally be able to fix him up and leave. Hah, you were so naive.

A strong hand gripped your shaky wrists, the scalpel once between your fingers clattering to the floor in surprise. No… no! That’s impossible! There was no way he could recover from an orgasm that intense so quickly!

But there before you, was his cock, at full mast like nothing even happened. All your work in pleasing him going to waste, leaving you filled with the dread of having to start all over.

“Hah… don’t think I’m finished… hah… now this time, I want you to use your mouth.”

This was gonna be a long, long night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

OK SO, I gotta apologize to @prettylittlebunnys because you/they sent in an ask and I did this whole fic before rereading the ask and realizing this wasn’t what you wanted.

I put effort into this so I’m gonna post this one anyways, BUT I wanna say I’m sorry and that even though I know it’s taking a butt-load of time, I will write your ask.

Please be patient it’s coming I promise

[blues824]

okayy, this one is a bit long so bear with me please!

imagine, in a au world where the league of villains get a redemption arc and so they get to go to u.a.; them with a gentle and kindhearted reader who is willing to befriend them while everyone else is still a little wary. im thinking, kind and empathic like tanjiro and is able to make them feel as if they really have a chance at changing.

you dont have to write all of the LOV, it can just be shigaraki, dabi, and toga! i dont want you to have to write too much.

Toga’s scenario sounds exactly like the beginning of Wednesday

Tomura Shigaraki

People were definitely hesitant to give this man a second chance. He was doing his best but no one believed in him. He got a job at U.A. where he could teach the students about how destructive quirks can be and how to limit the amount of damage done to any party. This was arranged so that he could be on close watch.

There was one teacher he had taken a particular interest in. They were an up and coming Hero, as well as Aizawa’s assistant. They always greeted him with a smile and a wave, and they were also the one who showed him around U.A. 

You were his first friend, proof that he turned over a new leaf and left behind a life of crime. You always made him a bento for lunch (he loves your cooking) and always tried to have at least 3 conversations with him.

After a while, he asked why you were so kind to someone like him. He wasn’t wary or anything, he was just curious. You smiled and said ‘to me, being a hero means giving people a second chance. Society turned its back on you first, so you had every right to be angry. I’m just sorry I couldn’t help you sooner.’ This made him blush a little.

Eventually, after being work friends (and just friends in general), Tomura got the courage to ask you out. He was about to go in and hug you when you said yes, but he looked at his hands in disdain. You pulled his gloves off the table and handed them to him, and once he put them on you wrapped your arms around him. You pulled back a little to place a kiss on his cheek and he stiffened but then relaxed and wrapped his arms around you as well.

Dabi 

People were wary of him not just because of his actions but also because of his appearance. The scars he got from his quirk obviously showed and he had staples and stitches. When he got a job at UA, he had to teach the older students about how destructive quirks can be and how not to inflict too much damage to yourself while still pushing yourself past your comfort zone.

You were assigned as his teacher’s assistant, and that caused you both to become close over time. You were the only one who actively tried to befriend him. Before class, as you both set everything up for the day ahead, you would always shake his hand and give him a warm smile before making your way to your corner desk.

He was grateful for you. You made his life that much easier, and he appreciated it a lot. You would spend your lunch breaks at his desk while discussing everything that came to mind. He’s even told you about a few of his villainous journeys.

One day, during one of these lunch breaks, he asked why you were so kind and genuine. You smiled and told him, ‘Well, it would be kind of weird to teach the next generation of heroes without reflecting the virtues a hero should have. Plus I figured that there was more to you than what most see.’

Eventually, after class on a Friday afternoon, he called out your name before you left. You turned and gave him your full attention, and that’s when he asked you out for a date at 7. You suddenly felt shy before nodding. Dabi walked you out before he pressed a kiss to your forehead and headed back to his apartment.

Himiko Toga

Since she was young enough, she was transferred mid-semester as a second-year student. After all, she had gotten nearly perfect scores on the written Entrance Exam and showed great Battle IQ in the practical Entrance Exam.

You were one of her classmates, and your teacher gave you the task of showing her around and bringing her to her dorm. Instead of looking at her in disgust as most of the other students did, you had a friendly grin and shook her hand.

You both instantly became friends. You would have study sessions that ended in laughter because you both were doing impressions of your classmates. You became assignment partners, lunch buddies, basically each other’s ride-or-die.

One day, during one of your study sessions, the conversation got serious for a second. She asked you why you were so nice to her even after learning about her actions and you held her hand in your own. You told her, ‘A hero is supposed to give everyone a second chance. That also means former villains.’

Eventually, once you were packing up after class and getting ready to head to your dorm, Toga pulled you aside and asked you out. Once you said yes, she almost tackled you to the ground in a hug while peppering kisses all over your face.

[codenamesazanka]

I hate that it’s “I engineered your entire life,” because, thinking back on AfO’s backstory, it’s much more fascinating if he was genuinely like, “I will give this Shimura child a better childhood than I had.”

Which he… technically succeeded at, (shelter and food security, for one,) except his definition of a ‘better childhood’ still includes things like “wandering the streets alone murdering anyone who tries to push you around,” and “Obviously he’ll want his family’s severed hands as keepsakes. After all, I’ve kept my brother’s hand with me for a century now after I accidentally killed him!”

Just like. Tenko vomiting on the floor as a trauma response after killing somebody, and AfO as the clueless-> meme guy thinking “I’m an incredible mentor. So much better than any hero would be.” Tomura showing up at the USJ a half-feral manchild, because he was primarily raised by a half-feral man.

Right??? AFO is a Bad Dad, but that's because he doesn't know any better. Also he refuses to do any better. Hell, in the most recent chapter, he says, 'Now I understand... It is tragedy that makes people stronger' and that's his parenting. 'How to make my successor stronger? Throw tragedies at him. It worked for me!'

Yeah, the idea that AFO wasn't particularly trying to torture a Shimura child because it was a Shimura child or that he's Evil(TM), but in trying to craft his 'Next Me', he did give Tomura a better life in that Tomura got food and shelter and learned how to read at age 5 instead of age 9 or whatever... but AFO also recreated most of the trauma from his own childhood onto Tomura, because that's how things should be? Fascinating. And fun.

AFO: "Tomura. It is now your 16th birthday. It's time for you to go halfway across the world to murder a celebrity you're jealous of. Let's make a vacation out of this! I am a great dad."

Thanks for the ask!

[thehusbandoden]

You Flinch During an Argument -Midoriya Izuku

A/n: Finally it's done T^T. Literally I think this is attempt 6 and I still don't like it compared to the others </3

Izuku angst is definitely not my strong suit :')

Hope you enjoy it <33

Info: angst to fluff/comfort | 589 words

Warnings!: Mention of arguing, flinching, and crying. Please let me know if I miss any <3

Dabi | Hawks | Todoroki Shoto | Bakugo Katsuki | Midoriya Izuku | Shigaraki Tomura | Aizawa Shota | Amajiki Tamaki | Kirishima Eijiro | Shinso Hitoshi

Izuku's world crashed as he saw you flinch away from him, body trembling as your hands stayed close to your chest.

That's when he noticed that Full Cowling was activated. Horror shook Izuku to the core as he stared down at his activated quirk.

'Y-y/n I- I-" Izuku muttered, eyes tearing up as he looked at your shaking form.

"I-Izuku can you just- let me be alone please- I.. need some time alone."

Izuku shakingly nodded as he made his way to the kitchen, tears falling down his face as he slid to the floor, staring at his arm lividly.

~~

After texting Izuku that you were going to a friend's house, you got your phone, wallet, and keys before heading over to your best friend's house; Mina Ashido.

~

Stepping out of the car you make your way to Mina's apartment, knocking on the door.

"Coming~!" Her cheerful voice called, already starting to calm you down.

As the door opened Mina immeditely noticed your mood and smiled at you knowingly, pulling you into her apartment before shutting her front door.

"Did you and Midoriya san get into a fight?" Mina asked, pulling you to her couch before heading towards the kitchen.

"Yeah.. I put myself in danger to help him and he got really mad, we argued and then his quirk set off- and I flinched. I wasn't scared of him per say, but I was frighted by the sudden appearance of his quirk.. I told him I needed to be alone, and then texted him that I was going to a friends' place." You whimper, snuggling into the decorative pillows of Mina's couch.

"Aww I'm sorry! Are you okay?"

"Yeah.. I just thought some space would be good and wanted to talk to a friend.."

"Well I'm all ears! Talk to me all you want~!"

"Thank you.. what are you doing in the kitchen by the way?"

"I'm making cookies for you~!" Mina giggled, causing you to genuiningly smile.

"You're too sweet." You smile, yawning at your sleepiness.

"You can go to sleep if you want to~. I'll put the cookies away. Well there's the couch, you'll always have a spot in the spare room, and if you want to you can sleep in my bed so you're a lot more comfortable."

"Thanks.. I'll just sleep here.. it's so cozy."

"Okay, sleep well~!"

"Mhmmm"

~~

It was around two in the afternoon when you made your way back home, already feeling a lot better due to Mina's brightness and input.

Walking in, you were quite suprised to see Izuku asleep on the kitchen floor, tear stains marking his freckled cheeks.

Leaning down to his level, you shake him gently, not wanting him to be even more sore for work.

"Zuku baby, you need to get off the floor." You coo, brushing his fluffy hair away from his face before stroking his cheek lovingly.

"Five more minutes.." Izuku grumbled, causing you to giggle softly.

"Okay, you can sleep more but you need to get to bed, or the couch at the very least."

"Cuddles?"

"Yes cuddles!" You giggle, causing Izuku to peek up at you, looking up at your face through his lashes.

"Wait... last night I-"

"Shhh we can talk later."

"But-"

"Please, just cuddle me."

~

After your nap you both had a discussion about the argument, and talked about you risking your life civilly.

After figuring everything out you shared a long embrace, lots and lots of kisses, and close to a thousand 'I love you's.

Series' masterlist | Izuku's masterlist | Main masterlist | Navigation

Tips <3

Reblogs help spread and therefore support my work immensely, but any support is appreciated <33

Do not copy, repost, nor plagiarize my work. Ask before you translate or use my work in any way minus reblogging.

[tomurasmoleunderhislip]

Tomura when his s/o is on period:

Writing this while dying from cramps 🤡

You were laying on bed under layers of blankets, you just got your period and these cramps are more painful than usual.

It is pain in ass literally, you couldn't get up so you curled yourself up into a ball.

Not only your stomach hurts, but you feel sick as well, atp you feel like airplane fell on you 💯💯💯.

The pain would stop a little for some time than randomly out of nowhere, sharpass pain would appear suddenly.

You for real couldn't get up and you don't have enough of pads for this whole week, but can't do shit about it because you feel like you are dying 🔥.

At the end of the day you ended up asking your boyfriend through text can he buy you pads since you can't even get up to go to toilet because it hurts like hell.

Tomura doesn't know much about this stuff so he asks you if you can explain to him a little, like you also had to send him picture of pads you always buy, so that he doesn't fuck up and buy something wrong.

He would be a little embarassed but would get it for you anyway. Also he did some research on internet what helps with cramps and brought some snacks as well with drinks and chocolate <3.

When he got back from store he immediately rushed in your room to check how are you doing 😭.

"drink this" he handed you over pill and glass of water "this will somewhat relieve the pain."

You took the pill and drink it. "It should work after about 10-15 minutes, sit still." he said.

There was slight worried look on his face because you were pale like a wall and had dark circles under your eyes you were just looking at floor without saying anything.

"hey? Are you okay?" he started to ask questions in concerned tone "Do you need anything else? Maybe more blankets or pillows?You look extremely tired maybe you should rest a little... Have you eaten and drank at all...? I brought some snacks and drinks if you wan-" you kissed him on lips to calm him down with all these questions.

"It's fine, I don't need anything but some water right now, I haven't drink at all today and my throat feels dry" you replied than paused for second to say something again "Wait you brought some snacks and drinks?!" he nodded with soft smile.

"Why did you do that? You didn't had to buy anything else but pads..." you said.

"Because I know you crave sweet and salty stuff during this time of month" he kissed your forehead while handing you snacks and drinks.

"...Thank you, also I feel bad eating all this by myself so let's just share it, I mean.. you brought it anyways and there's enough for two so."

"I brought this for you only, but if you insist than sure.." you said - "Okay wait here I'll go get bowls than" right when you were about to get up he grabbed your arm and pulled you back on bed than threw blankets at you "You have to stay here and rest dumbass, I can get those you just stay here okay?"

he rushed in kitchen to grab two bowls for both you and came back -"dang alright" (AGRESSIVE LOVE AGRESSIVE LOVE AGRESSIVE LOVE AGRESSIVE LOVE 🛐🛐🛐). "So..how about horror movies? Or we can maybe play games if you aren't in mood for movies."

You said "Movies, I'm currently too lazy to move at all" He let's out small laugh and nodded while getting under blankets with you and snuggling up to you "Is this fine?" he just wanted you to be comfortable with him 😔

"Why are you even asking? This is perfect." Laying your head on his shoulder and taking his gloved hand in yours "You know, I'm actually really happy and grateful I have you" you kissed him on cheek "I love you Tomura"

He looked at you all surprised and flustered was literally melting from inside poor bby wanted to say it back but he was too shy.

You two ended up watching movies until you both fell asleep together all snuggled up <3 (I know I always mention this in all my writings but I love sleeping okay? it's just great going mimimimi for real 💤) anyways

Tomura would be only sweet and soft to his s/o and you can't change my mind.

Y'all my head was falling all time I was trying so hard to not fall asleep while writing and checking for mistakes help 💀💀💀

Hope you like it my stinks🔥🔥🔥

[moumouton4]

Clothes Stay On || Tomura Shigaraki x reader

A/n : Prompt 14 of the Smutember 2023

A/n 2 : Here you can find Shikamaru's version from the 29 / 10 / 2023

The list of promps is HERE

Smutember 2023 Masterlist ⚜

Warnings : no mention of gender for reader, dry humping, grinding, slight possessiveness, 18+ READERS ONLY and wrap it before you tap it

Masterlist ⚜

I don’t give permission to repost my work, if you want to share it just reblogue it

Word count : 769

He always was a pain in the ass when you talked about touching him, as a skin to skin contact. His quirk made it insanely difficult to enjoy such a closeness with the most important person of his life. Your love for him made you want to face any difficulties to be closer than ever to him. But on the contrary, his love for you made him totally terrified at the atrocious idea of reducing you to ashes. Though it was undeniable, you needed him and he needed you. Quite a lot actually. You two were just so horny and fucking everyone could see through your games.

All that pent up desire made an idea grow in your horny mind. Slowly you made your way to your boyfriend who was deep in thoughts, sitting at his desk. You slided on his lap as if nothing while he just looked at you with an inquiring look.

“Shhh let me just-” you started but he cut you off.

“What do you think you’re doing ?” he asked as he felt you slowly rocking your hips against his.

“Making up for lost times” your hands gripped his shoulders for support as you slowly picked up your pace.

“I’ve already told you we couldn’t. No yet-” his gloved hands found purchase at your hips

“Don’t worry I’ve got an idea”

“Like what ?” he continued, it would have been a lie to say he wasn't interested in what you were going to do.

“We are going to do it. But clothes stay on, so that your quirk can’t be a problem anymore” you cheer with a smile. You hope that this time he isn’t going to tell you it’s still too risky, like that one time you told him he could still fuck you with his 3 fingered gloves on.

For a brief moment he looked like he was entranced by the idea, after all he was growing pretty hard under you, but then “This is completely stupid, besides I was working”

Something in the back of your head told you he was going to react like this, and it was fine for him to be worried but you had enough fooling around and you knew him too “I’m sure Dabi wouldn’t have minded” you stated, knowing you were pushing his buttons.

And you had the expected reaction.

In a split second, his fingers tightened their grip around you, forcing you back against his hard clothed member "Are you fucking kidding me ?!?" he almost growled "You're mine. Don't ever forget that"

His arms took up the previous movement of your hips as he brought you back and pushed you along his erection. Gosh, he could feel the heat coming off it with every stroke. He loved the way you moaned against his chest as he nibbled on the shell of your ear "I'll find a way" he breathed heavily "Trust me I will. And I'll make you mine in every way possible"

He may have been inexperienced, but just the fairness of rubbing yourself on him like that made the knot in your stomach tighten. Besides you were so needy, the task was going to be easier. But just as you thought it was going to end like that, he carried you in his arms, your legs still around him, as your centers remained in contact despite the barrier of clothes. He lowered you onto the bed behind him and laid you on it, before pinning you against the mattress.

His hips worked as if they'd always known this rhythm. His speed accelerated, he knew he'd end up cumming in his briefs, but gosh, he didn't care at the time. His body convulsed as he reached the point of no return. He felt his balls tighten before releasing and cumming in his pants, with a guttural moan.

His face found its way in the crook of your neck as he tried to catch his breath. Fingers mindlessly traced patterns on his back as his body relaxed against yours. Now he was going to rest, then change and quickly go see Kurogiri to come up with a plan that would allow him to do this again but in a way that wasn't threatening to you. Fuck, if it was that good, he can't even imagine what it would be like to be deep inside you, feeling you tighten around him as you juices coat his cock.

Just the thought of it is making him hard again. And... he's rutting against you again. Well maybe talking to Kurogiri can wait a little bit more.

[cozzzynook]

please tell me everything you can about dabi mpreg 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

I can’t think of a lot right now but I am thinking of Dabi laid in bed overly pregnant at just five months carrying twins.

He’s hiding from both Hawks and Tomura. The condom broke and neither knew he could get pregnant and so he’s in hiding in a completely different part of Japan on the countryside with neighbors who don’t care about his past and come by to help him in the morning.

He goes into town and works an easy job as a librarian where he can thankfully sit most of his shift and his boss doesn’t mind if he falls asleep after his lunch break since his boss & coworkers have permission to feel the babies kick and flutter.

One has Hawks wings and the other doesn’t. He’s already been told he’s carrying both their children. Learning he was pregnant with not one but two was a hard pill to swallow. It only got harder when he realized how painful and disabling pregnancy was going to be for him. He was high risk due to his health. Even with his skin no longer held together by staples he was never healthy to begin with.

With pregnancy he found himself either sad, at peace when it was just him and the babies alone at home or content when reading. He didn’t smile much save for when the twins kicked or he ate a craving food. Dabi often wished Tomura and Hawks were with him both during the day and late nights when the twins kept him up late.

He daydreams they would respond well to his pregnancy and that they would be happy in their own way and they could be a family. But he knows reality won’t allow that. Not when Tomura’s goal is too important and Hawks will always be a hero whether owned by the commission or free. Hawks will always choose heroism over both him and Tomura and even their children and Tomura has no room for a family in his vision.

He’s honestly surprised at himself for giving up his years long plan of revenge to take care of them, he was even shocked he kept them. But it just didn’t sit right with him treating his children as less than or getting rid of them when it hurt so bad when the same thing happened to him.

He couldn’t imagine hurting them by just giving them away or seeing them as anything but a part of himself, Hawks and Tomura. And so his decision was made the moment he first saw the swell at the sketchy doctors office looking at the two little blobs on the screen behind blurry and zoned out eyes.

It was hard leaving but he was on autopilot until he made it to where he currently lives. He spent five months adjusting to his new life only for a knock to disrupt him from reading his favorite novel. It took time to get out of the chair and waddle to the front door telling the impatient person he was coming.

He felt an eery silence when he did but shook it off as hormones, pulling his sweater down to try and cover his belly. It would only stay if he kept his hand there and so he opened the door expecting to see his neighbor who would ask for him to watch their dog every few days for when they would leave town on business. He had his eyes on the ground excepting to see Shadow as he held the shirt in place below his belly only to see two familiar pairs of feet and the ends of large red wings.

His eyes went wide and his heart stopped as he was forced to look up. Seeing Tomura and Hawks eyes stuck on his belly was not how he saw his day going and slamming the door locking it was futile since he knew Tomura could just dust it and Hawks could pick any lock if he set his mind to it.

He was so fucked he didn’t think they would find him all the way out here. He didn’t even think they would be looking for him at least not beyond the city. He never expected to be found, he never expected them to truly care or even go looking for him.

He can’t help but panic as he clutches his heart as his hand grips his shirt beneath his belly as his back starts to ache and his feet feel like they’re swelling from standing too long. They’re here and he can’t play this off. Not when the obvious has rounded him out.

Time seems to freeze and he doesn’t know what to do.

The only thought that races through his mind is, ‘what now?’

[imagineanime2022]

My Hero Characters W/ Lana Del Ray S/O

Keigo Takami X Reader, Tomura Shigaraki X Reader, Dabi X Reader

Requested: Anon

Request: Heyy! I had this idea lately with Dabi, Shigaraki and Keigo where Reader is inspired by Lana Del Rey, but she didn't really mention her singing to them until there's a mission in like a club or a bar or something and someone has to be the distraction so reader's like: "i can sing" and she sings Million Dollar Man by Lana del Rey and when the guys hear her sing for the first time they just fall for her even more!

Keigo Takami

🪶 Keigo had caught you humming on many occasions but he'd never heard you singing. Keigo would sing all the time and you’d dance along with him but you never sang. 🪶 He always wondered why you’d never do more than humming, he asked but you changed the subject and while he did want to know, he had secrets of his own that you never pried into so he respected your decision not to talk about it. 🪶 Keigo just ended up singing for the both of you, twirling around the kitchen with you when he knew that you loved a song. 🪶 You and Keigo had been sent on a guard duty mission, the meeting was going well, until it wasn’t and you offered to be the distraction while he got the witness out.

You and Keigo had been tasked with keeping a witness safe as they reentered a bar that was believed to be part of a mafia trafficking ring. Keigo hated the mission from start to finish, the person that you were protecting was someone who had been working for them, he was running after having made a mistake that would cost him his life if he stayed hence him giving over the bar as a place of interest, the only way to save himself was to bring down the gang that aimed to kill him. Keigo really didn’t want to help him but what you got in return was far too good to throw away.

That was why you were both sitting on opposite sides of the bar, you were in a stunning outfit all cleaned up and looking like you belonged here. Keigo had cleaned up quite well himself, in a pair of blue jeans, white tee shirt and denim jacket. His signature feathers were scattered around and outside of the building given that they were a dead give away for his true identity. The witness sat with Keigo as he talked through all of the different members that were there, you noticed it first, the man that kept glancing over at them “Keigo there’s someone very interested in you right now.” You said moving you glass in front of your face in case anyone was watching you. “Where?” Keigo asked. “Left side on the sofas in the middle booth.” You answered, you leaned back taking a drink from as your eyes found the stage, there was currently no performer, there had been one when you came in but you assumed that they were changing over. “Time to go.” Keigo said and you hummed in agreement. “I’ll distract them.” You mumbled. “Distract them how?” Keigo asked, you could hear that he was wary but you had no choice if they left now, they’d be followed. “Don’t worry about it, trust me, I’ll be fine.” You promise as you watch the band on stage, recognising the intro to a song that you loved. You downed the rest of your drink before going to the stage and grabbed the mic.

Keigo didn’t know what he was expecting, actually he did, he thought that you were going to go over to the guy and start flirting as a distraction, this was far more preferred, however he didn’t expect you to get on stage “You said I was the most exotic flower, holding me tight in our final hour.” His eyes widened upon hearing your voice, it was almost like he had stopped breathing, especially when you started actually performing, he had seen you dance and move around the beat of a song many times but seeing you like this on stage, he loved you even more (and he honestly wasn’t sure that was possible). He caught himself before he got too lost looking over at the guy that had been watching them, his gaze had turned to you so Keigo got the witness out handing him over to the heroes waiting for you before turning back to the bar, it was only a couple of minutes before you came out of the bar spotting him across the road and making your way over. “Are you okay?” He asked. “Yeah, I’m fine.” You answered with a smile. “Are you?” “I’m going to need a private performance when we get home but apart from that I’m all good.” He answered with a wink, you rolled your eyes as his feathers gathered behind him to create his breathtaking wings. “You ready?” “Always.” You answered as you wrapped your arms around his neck, his gripping tightly around his waist as he flew you both back to the association for a debriefing.

Tomura Shigaraki

🤚 Shigaraki never really cared for anyone’s hobbies but his own, so the fact that you never sang never really came up in conversation. 🤚 He noticed that you liked music, as you tended to play it where you could and honestly he never really minded that. Toga was the one who actually asked you about singing, he was just there when you gave a half assed answer. 🤚 From there he was intrigued but still never asked any questions about it, he didn’t want to push you too far, he doesn’t actually know why you're dating him anyway, but he doesn’t want to lose you. 🤚 Shigaraki hadn’t ever thought that you singing was going to save them, so when you volunteered to stay behind as a distraction while they escaped the bar before the heroes could catch sight of them.

All it took was you taking off your mask and you were ready to go, you winked at the performer on stage, she seemed to welcome a second person with the song playing already half way through “One for the money, two for the show.” You sang as you picked up where the performer had left off, you gestured for her to continue singing, you remembered the times that you used to perform, never here but you had always wanted to, catching onto what you were doing the performer continued with the song as you chimed in and harmonised where you could.

Shigaraki had started leaving until he heard Toga making a fuss about something “what is wrong with you?” He asked, all she did was excitedly point to the stage where you looked to be right at home. “Huh? Looks like she belongs up there. How'd you bag her?” Dabi asked as his eyes found you in the state as well. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Shigaraki asked. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, you’re fucking ugly.” Dabi reminded him and he rolled his eyes before looking back to where the heroes had been filtering in. “We need to leave.” Shigaraki finally said. “And miss her performance, she’ll never do this again.” Toga complained. “Go.” He ordered, he had to admit the pull to stay and watch you was strong but he knew that if he did they’d be back to square one, he trusted you to get back to him, maybe he could get you to sing for him again.

When you did get back to the base, you looked tired, he glared at each person individually making sure each of them knew not to say anything, you walked over to where he was sitting and curled into his side, he was careful to move his hands from you. “Are you okay?” He asked. “Yeah fine, the heroes thought that I was just another performer.” You answered “the owner of the bar actually asked me to come back.” “Why?” Shigaraki asked, he could see Twice grab Toga’s hand before it could land on her forehead, that made him realise how what he had said sounded. “I-” “Don’t worry I know what you meant.” You smiled. “I told him I wasn’t available, had someone waiting for me.” “Mmm.” Shigaraki hummed. “It wouldn’t be terrible for you to sing again.” “Oh yeah?” You asked. “Yeah.” He nodded.

Dabi

🔥 Dabi notices that you listen to music, hum and dance a lot but he has never heard you sing, from the humming he could tell that you could sing and sometimes he tried to catch you sneaking into the house or room but you just never seemed to do it. 🔥 Dabi would tease you about it, he’d mention it everytime that you hummed, whether in conversation or when actually humming a song. 🔥 He’s not the type to sing or dance himself but he would enjoy watching you, especially if you were enjoying yourself, he’s a firm believer in doing things because you want to not because you have to. 🔥 When you told him to meet you at the bar with a promise that a distraction would be well underway, he expected a bar fight or something but what he found when he got in there was way different.

“It isn't that hard, boy, to like you or love you, I'd follow you down, down, down.” Dabi had to tear his eyes from you, he had a job to do, a deal to finalise, he saw the man who should have been waiting for him, he walked over and sat down arm pulled back to rest on the back of the booth, he could see you perfectly on the stage from where he was sitting and your eyes connected for a second as you gave him a soft almost unnoticeable nod. “You from the league of villains?” He asked. “What do you think?” Dabi asked, his eyes moving back to the man in front of him. “You want an arm right?” The man asked. “Is that a problem?” Dabi asked. “No it’s just pricey is all.” The man answered. “Mm.” Dabi hummed as he passed over the case filled with money, the objective was to get the arm and the money with no trouble at all. “That cover it?” “That will cover it just fine.” The man nodded as he lifted his own case onto the table, Dabi glanced at you again. “You're screwed up and brilliant, look like a million dollar man.” You sang. “You know her?” The man asked and Dabi looked back at him. “Nah.” He answered “she’s just the best entertainment they’ve had in a while.” “That I can agree with.” The man answered but just as he was about to lean over to take the money the light went out and your song ended, Dabi didn’t want a second longer, he grabbed both cases and hightailed it out in the commotion and anticipation for your next number.

Dabi rounded the corner long after you had, you were leaning against the wall waiting for him to meet you “you got everything?” You asked. “Yeah.” He nodded holding up the two cases, as you took one from him, he didn’t let you get far though, catching you around the waist before you could step away from him. “I was right.” “What?” You asked. “You can sing.” He smirked. “Don’t worry I won’t tell anyone I like it being our little secret.”

Request Here!!