#Shimura Tenko x reader

[scary-grace]

Call Me Sometime - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

You work the dispatch desk at a phone sex line to make ends meet, and you're used to handling some strange calls. But the caller you're babysitting tonight is the strangest by far -- and that's before you find out why he called.

Your headset is making your ear hurt, but you know you’ll get a call the instant you take it off, and your boss has this thing about dropped calls. The meter on each session starts running the instant the client is approved by the screener, and why Mizuho can’t do this part, too, you’ll never understand. Her quirk lets her pick up a variety of useful information just from hearing someone’s voice, but she’s only interested in three pieces ��� their sexual orientation, their price point, and their age. If the latter two check out, she fills in the third and routes the call to you, and it’s your job to match the client with the appropriate phone sex operator.

It’s not your job to talk to the clients. But the meter’s running once they pass the screener, and more often than not, they’re paying to talk to a woman. During busy times, when all the other operators are occupied and there’s a client on hold, that woman is you.

You’re nineteen, technically too young for a job like this one. You were younger when you were hired. The head of the agency, Souma – she makes everyone call her Akiko, like you’re friends or something – knew that when she sought you out, but you didn’t know she knew. Midway through the interview, when she was talking about the solid pay rate and flexible hours, you brought it up. “You know I’m eighteen, right?”

“That’s why I want you,” she said, her smile sharp-toothed, and you blinked. “Our clients are perverts of the first order, and they get off on doing what they aren’t supposed to. Even if there’s nothing sexual about your conversations with them – even if you’re telling them to hold while you route their call – knowing that they’re talking to an underage girl will get them going.”

“That’s gross,” you said, for lack of anything better. Akiko nodded. She was applying lipstick, checking it in a compact mirror, although you know now that the mirror itself contains a device that jams surveillance equipment. Your boss doesn’t take risks, and neither do you – which is why you were so hesitant to take the job. “I don’t have to – do anything. I’d just route the calls and chat when they have to hold longer than two minutes.”

“That’s right,” Akiko said. She smiled at you. “Are we doing this? I’ll put you on the payroll right now.”

You wanted to be on the payroll. The pay rate was twice as much as you could get anywhere else, and you needed the money. But you had another question. Two questions. “You know I’m quirkless?”

“So what? You don’t need a quirk to answer phones.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, and even then, you were smart enough not to let her see it. “There are other girls my age you could get to do this. Ones who’d be – better at it.”

“You mean my fellow sluts?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“It’s what you meant,” Akiko said, and kept talking when you protested. “It’s all right, darling. We’re all sluts here.”

“It’s not what I meant,” you repeated. “There are other girls who’d be better at it. Why me?”

“Mm.” Akiko studied you. Six months later, you still remember the way your skin crawled under her gaze. “You know how to sound high-class, and you sound innocent. But the questions you ask tell me that you’re sharp enough to handle a job like this. And you need the money badly enough to know that you can’t say no. Are you in or are you out?”

You were in. You felt like you were walking into a trap, but you were in, and you’re still in now. Which is why you don’t take your headset off, even when it hurts your ear. Which is why, when a call comes in and you see that every operator has at least two minutes left in their current session, you hit accept and sit up a little straighter in your chair. “Good evening, sir. Welcome to Shiroiwa Services. I’m not your conversational partner for the evening, but I’d love to keep you company while you’re waiting.”

“What are you wearing?”

You sigh inwardly and make a checkmark in the notepad where you keep track of terrible opening lines. You get that one about seventy percent of the time, and you increase the pitch of your voice ever so slightly as you pull up the caller’s details. “Why do you want to know?”

“So I can picture you just right.”

Gross. The client’s in his fifties, and Mizuho’s been nice enough to give you a heads-up that he’s married – and when he’s called in before, he’s wanted to talk to young-sounding operators. “Just my uniform, sir,” you say. You give a beat, then follow up. “My school uniform.”

You’re lying. You work strictly back of house, and right now you’re wearing sweatpants, flip-flops, and a shirt you stole from one of the operators that says ‘men’s tits’ on it. But the guy on the phone doesn’t know that. “A schoolgirl,” he says, and you can practically hear him drooling into the phone. “Does your daddy know what you’re doing right now?”

Your daddy’s probably calling a phone sex line as you speak. You know for a fact that he’s too poor to afford Shiroiwa, but you still live in fear of the day where you have to transfer his call. “No, sir,” you say. “Please don’t tell him. It can be our secret. I’m really good at keeping secrets.”

Before the client can say anything else, a green light pops up on your screen – Minami is open for business. Perfect. “It’s been so nice to speak with you, sir. I’ll transfer you to Minami presently. Have a sensational evening!”

The client dallies a little bit, hinting that he’d rather talk to you than Minami, but you shake him off in fifteen seconds or less and finally pry your headset off your ear. Then you flop facedown on your desk. You hate your job. You love that it pays, but you really, really, really hate your job. “Ugh.”

“Heard you on the phone.” Haruka, one of the escorts, punches you in the arm on her way out the door to meet the car that will take her to tonight’s engagement. She puts on a high-pitched voice. “I’m really good at keeping secrets –”

“What was I supposed to do? I can’t talk about how horny I am. That’s illegal.”

“For another eight months. Then we’ll get you.”

“You wish.” Eight months from now, you’ll be out of here. You think. You hope. As your headset lights up with another call, you might actually pray.

You wanted to be a doctor, but that takes money – and although nobody will admit it, it takes a quirk. Nursing school is less expensive, but once again, no nursing school likes to take on quirkless students. It pisses you off to think about it. Sure, some quirks are suited to the medical field, but a guy with a quirk that lets him blow bubbles with his own snot isn’t any more suited to be a nurse than you are with no quirk at all. But thinking that way lies madness, so you turned to the rest of the field and found your dream job. Dynamic. In high demand. Still expensive, but cheaper than everything else. EMT school. You’re going to be a paramedic, and doing office work for a high-end sex service is how you’re going to pay for it.

You route three more calls, babysit one client who wants to know what you’re wearing and how much of it you’ll take off, and confirm addresses and code phrases for three of the escorts before they head out. There are three tiers of service at Shiroiwa. At the top are the real escorts – Akiko, Mayumi, Sakura, Kyoko, Akane, the ones who go out on dates and pull in big money. Then there are the ones who work as servers and dancers at fancy parties – Takako, Yukie, Keiko, and a whole bunch of others whose names you keep forgetting. There are a lot of them. Then there are the phone and chat sex operators, of which there are even more, and all the way down under the foundations of the pyramid, there’s you.

Your job, as Akiko puts it, is to fill the holes. Every place where a detail or a client might fall through the cracks, that’s where you’re supposed to be to catch them. It keeps you on your toes. You tell yourself that it’s good practice for the job you really want to do, and some nights, you almost believe it.

Saturday night is busy, but there are lulls here and there, and whenever there’s a lull, you take out your textbook and do a little studying. You’re decent at biology, but it takes work, and you need to pass your entrance exam to EMT school on your first try. You’re in the middle of familiarizing yourself with all the parts of the limbic system when your headset starts beeping – and when you check your screen, you see that every single operator is busy. Again.

You get paid a flat hourly rate, but you really should negotiate that up for nights you spend keeping clients occupied while they wait. You answer the phone and run through your spiel – your operator’s not ready yet, but I’m here, and I’m super psyched to talk to a weirdo just like you – and wait for the inevitable question about what you’re wearing. You wait. And wait.

And keep waiting, so long that you start to wonder if the call’s dropped when you weren’t looking. That, or the client got so wound up hearing a woman’s voice on the phone that they had a heart attack and died. You try again. “Hello?”

The call’s still live. You hear your voice echo on the other end of the line, and when you listen closer, you can hear someone breathing. Breathing sort of heavily. Great. “You know I get paid whether you talk or not, right?”

Oops. You shouldn’t have said that. Akiko will be pissed, and if whoever this is pays up, does it really matter if he says anything? Maybe he just wants to breathe heavily into the phone until time’s up. You’d like to thing you can sit quietly while some guy does – something – to the sound of your breathing on your end of the line, but it turns out that’s beyond your power to cope with. “Um, do you want to know what I’m wearing?”

“What?”

“Clients usually ask that,” you say, trying to cover your shock. This client sounds young. Shiroiwa’s price point is so high that next to none of the clients are younger than forty, but this guy sounds like he’s barely out of high school. You should know. You’re barely out of high school yourself. “They want to know what I’m wearing so they can – um, imagine a little better.”

Silence. The breathing sounds a little less heavy and a little more hyperventilating, and you resist the urge to bang your head on the table with an effort. Why do you always get stuck with the weird ones? “So, like I said, I’m not actually the person you’re supposed to talk to. I’m just here to keep you company until your partner’s ready for you. We don’t have to talk at all.”

You’re rapidly coming to the conclusion that not talking is the best outcome for this situation. You and the client can pretend each other isn’t there until you can transfer him to somebody else, somebody who’s good with the weird ones or the shy ones. Rika, maybe. She’s good at bringing clients out of their shells. The fact that she and you and anybody else who listens in wishes they’d never come out of their shells in the first place doesn’t really matter.

“Who are you, then?” The raspy voice is in your ear again. “If you’re not who I’m supposed to talk to.”

“I’m admin. Kind of a secretary.” You kick yourself instantly for the choice of words. “Not the sexy kind of secretary. Just – I’m the one who routes the phone calls. And the messages from our chat service. Unless it’s busy.”

“It’s busy?”

“Saturday night? It’s really busy,” you say. He sounds disappointed. “Is there somebody you were hoping to talk to specifically? I can let you know how long of a wait there will be.”

“I don’t care who I talk to,” the client says. You hear that from new clients a lot, before they pick a favorite. All the regulars have favorites. “This was stupid.”

“No, it wasn’t,” you say hastily. Akiko will kill you if you lose a client. Even a weird client. “Tell me what you want to talk about. That way I can pick the right partner to send to you.”

“I don’t know,” the client says. You glance at the info Mizuho sent and get a shock – the client’s twenty, just a year older than you. “It’s – fuck. It’s my birthday.”

“Happy birthday,” you say on autopilot, which is apparently the wrong thing to say. You can practically feel the client’s discomfort oozing through the phone, and you spin off into a sales pitch that sounds terrible even to you. “Well, you’ve called the right service. I know a ton of our companions who can make your day really special.”

“Too fucking late.” The client sounds bitter about it, or maybe just sad. Definitely pissed that he feels that way. “This was stupid. I just wanted –”

“Someone to talk to,” you realize before he can finish the sentence, and you hear a startled inhale on the other end of the line. He’s going to be prickly about it. You would be, if somebody read you like that. “What did you do today?”

“What did I do today?”

“Look, we can talk about that, or I can tell you what I’m wearing. Up to you.” You hear a weird sound. Is he choking or laughing? “What did you do today?”

“Nothing. Slept until three. Played a few games.”

“Which games?” you ask. “Something tells me you’re not a board game type of guy. Are you an FPS type, or more into MMORPGs –”

“You know what that is?”

He sounds surprised. “I’m more of a D&D type myself,” you say. You, two of the phone sex operators, and three of your friends from high school all have a campaign going. “But I know what the cool kids play. Are you a team player?”

“Solo.”

“Impressive,” you say. “It takes skill to go it alone. I’m only good as part of a team.”

It’s weird to say something honest about yourself on the phone with a client. You know for a fact that Akiko always shares certain details – she says it makes them feel closer to her, makes them easier to manage – but you’re not a companion. You lie every time you’re on the phone with a client. This is the first time you’ve ever said anything true, and it feels weird. It’s not a habit you want to get into.

The client, meanwhile, is finally starting to loosen up. “So that’s what you’re doing when you’re not answering phones at a phone sex line? Playing games?”

“No, usually I’m studying.”

“Studying what?”

Too personal, again. You need to shut it down. “Do you really want to talk about me?”

“Better than talking about me.” The client’s voice takes on a weird flat note, one you don’t know how to identify over the phone. “What would have happened, anyway? If I’d talked to somebody else.”

“You’re going to talk to somebody else.” None of the other operators are free yet. “Well, to start with, they’d probably tell you what they’re wearing.”

The client snickers. You made him laugh. Why does that feel like an achievement? “Um, and then you’d probably have phone sex. That’s what they do.”

“But not what you do.”

What is that supposed to mean? “Definitely not. Like I said, I just route the phone calls. And keep clients company while they wait.” It’s silent. You wait, growing more uncomfortable by the second. “If you tell me what kind of phone sex you want to have –”

Your screen flashes. “All right, we have an open operator. A couple open operators. If you tell me a little bit about what you’re looking for, I can match you up.”

Ordinarily, you don’t play matchmaker like this, but you’re weirdly invested in making sure that this client has a positive phone sex experience on his twentieth birthday. “Uh –” the client breaks off, clears his throat. “I don’t want to talk to any of them.”

“Um –”

“Can I just talk to you?”

“That’s not what I’m here for.” You watch, agonized, as three calls pile up in the queue behind this one. “You don’t actually want to talk to me. You’re paying by the minute for someone who knows what they’re doing.”

“If you transfer me, I’ll hang up.” The client’s not threatening you, you don’t think – just telling you how it’s going to be. Some part of you appreciates the clarity. “I want to talk to you. You can even tell me what you’re wearing.”

You laugh in spite of yourself, and even though you know it’s a terrible idea, you hit transfer, sending the three queued calls to the open operators and keeping this client on the line with you. “It’s not worth talking about. Tell me about you. On the scale of worst to best birthdays ever, where does this one fall?”

“The shit end.” The client’s answer should have been predictable, but his follow-up isn’t: “Moving up a bit, though.”

“Why was it shitty?” you ask, knowing as you do that it’s a mistake. You don’t need to know why the client had a shitty birthday, except to know that it’s shitty enough that he called a phone sex line to have someone to talk to. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened.” The client’s voice gets quieter. “Nothing ever happens.”

You somehow manage to restrain yourself from going down the list, checking off all the birthday stuff to make sure the client’s really telling the truth. The client starts filling in the blanks without being prompted. “I don’t need any of it. I can buy my own presents. And a cake. And fucking balloons if I want them. What am I supposed to do then? Sing happy fucking birthday to myself?”

“That would be pretty sad,” you agree. “Want me to sing to you?”

The client makes a weird sound. “No.”

“Are you sure?”

“You don’t actually want to sing to me. You don’t know me. You’re only on the phone at all because I’m paying you.”

“That’s how you got on the phone with me, sure,” you say. “But I don’t have to know you to think you should get at least one birthday song. Even if it’s from me.”

It’s quiet for a second. “You sure you don’t just want to tell me what you’re wearing?”

You decide to hell with it and start singing anyway. Quietly, and making at least a little effort to stay on key. “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear –”

You stop when you realize you don’t know the client’s name, and you wait for him to fill it in. And wait. And wait. “Are you going to finish it or not?” the client asks.

“I need your name first. Otherwise it won’t be the real birthday song.” You’re aware that this is ridiculous – you’re singing happy birthday to a client who called Shiroiwa’s phone sex line and got stage fright so bad that he decided he’d rather talk to you. “Happy birthday dear –”

“Tenko.”

“Happy birthday dear Tenko,” you sing, “happy birthday to you.”

It’s quiet for a second. You’re still not great with silence. “Was that so hard?”

“No,” the client – Tenko – says. It’s quiet for longer this time. “That was –”

“Just what do you think you’re doing?”

That’s Akiko’s voice. Shit. You look up in horror and find her bearing down on you, dressed to the nines and wearing heels that probably make her taller than All Might. “There are eight calls in the queue and seven operators with no clients, and instead of doing your job you’re on the phone with a friend –”

“You’re in trouble,” Tenko says. It’s not a question.

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I have to go,” you say. “I can transfer you –”

“I don’t want a transfer. Do you really have to –”

The look on Akiko’s face says yes. “I’m really sorry. Look, um –”

“What’s your name?” Tenko asks. Akiko is looking for the ‘end call’ button, but she’s not great with tech. You’ve got ten seconds or so before she realizes it’s on your headset and rips it off your head. “Come on. You know my name. It’s not fair if I don’t know yours.”

“My friends call me Nine,” you say. They do when you’re playing D&D, at least – that’s your character’s name. “I have to go.”

Tenko says something else, or starts to, but you press the end call button yourself and face up to your boss, assigning the queued calls as quickly as possible. “It was a client,” you say, before she can say a word. “The meter was running the whole time.”

Akiko’s temper comes down a notch when she hears it was a paid call, but you’re not out of the woods yet. “You should have transferred him.”

“He said he’d hang up.”

“This operation is barely legal as it is, and you’re underage. If you were talking about anything sexual –”           

“We weren’t. He just turned twenty,” you say desperately. “He didn’t even want to know what I was wearing.”

Akiko blinks. “Really?”

“I tried,” you say. She nods, bemused. “I shouldn’t have let the other calls wait. I’m sorry.”

“As long as you don’t do it again,” Akiko says. She’s smiling, but you’d be an idiot if you thought she was telling the truth. She leans over and checks the call receipt on your screen. “Mm, this was a nice long conversation. What were the two of you discussing?”

“I don’t really know.” At least half the conversation was you trying to figure out what the hell was going on. “Am I in trouble?”

“None of the calls have been dropped, and that client of yours paid the same price for you as he would have for one of my operators. You aren’t in trouble,” Akiko says. “Don’t let it happen again.”

“Yes, ma’am.” You turn back to your screen and transfer the last queued client, watching as the clock on your computer flips from 11:59 to 12:00am. It’s not Tenko’s birthday anymore. You wonder if he got what he wanted out of calling Shiroiwa Services. Probably not.

taglist: @f3r4lfr0gg3r @lvtuss @dance-with-me-in-hell @minniessskii @evilcookie5 @deadhands69 @shigarakislaughter @lacrimae-lotos @xeveryxstarfallx @handumb @agente707 @warxhammer @issaortiz @stardustdreamersisi @cheeseonatower @boogiemansbitch @koohiii @baking-ghoul @atspiss @shikiblessed @aslutforfictionalmen

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

tomura likes to just watch you. in a creepy but also not so creepy way.

and it doesn't have to be anything special, he's perfectly okay just watching you write something down for your classes or you scrolling on your phone or something and he'd be perfectly fine just looking at you from your bed. although he usually prefers hogging your work chair because it accommodates the nasty slouch i just know he has.

one leg crossed and even his head resting on his fist as he almost admires you. he doesn't look particularly pleased, but trust me he is. there's just something so intriguing about you just being you to him. and he won't say anything either, never expect him to. not even if you stare at him excepting a response he'll just look right back. unblinking. at most after an intense little staring session he'll croak out a "..what ?" and if you ask him what he's looking at he'll just shrug, tell you to "just keeping doing whatever you we're doing just now." and keep staring like a creepazoid.

[https-bakugo]

Puppy Crush / (t.shigaraki x GN! Reader) (Headcannons)

♡ cw / tw : -

Tomura Shigaraki with a puppy crush is interesting. He pretends to ignore you but his eyes always end up wandering back to yours when he’s thinking. He prefers being by himself but he won't turn down a chance to sit by your side.

Tomura Shigaraki with a puppy crush is strange. He claims to find you annoying but when you wake up there’s a figurine of that one character from that game you mentioned in passing that you really like.

Tomura Shigaraki with a puppy crush is really cute. He swears he’s only interested in approval from All For One but he can’t deny the flutter of his heart in his chest when you smile and tell him he’s done a good job.

Tomura Shigaraki with a puppy crush makes you smile. He’s strange in his own way but when he finally works up the courage to ask you out and you accept, you can’t deny the flutter of your heart when he lets out a sigh of relief and looks up at you like you’re his whole world.

© HTTPS-BAKUGO. Do not steal, copy or use any of my work for AI. Legal action will take place if caught.

[theeedarlingflame]

shigaraki x chubby reader !!!（＾ω＾）

he’s been through a lot. the world is harsh and cold, but you—you are soft. you are warm and pliable in his hands. in his arms, you are his. in a world that has taken so much from him, a world in which he wants to crumble to dust, he wants you whole. he wants you forever.

at first, he pushes you away. he’s harsh to you—you’re some NPC toga picked off the street, after all. he doesn’t have to kind to you. he doesn’t care for you.

you pull your weight. you clean and cook for the league, you joke with them. you’re too nice to be a part of this group of people, the people society rejected and casted aside, he thinks. you’re far too soft-hearted. you give in to toga’s sweet tooth half the time, you insist on making tea for kurogi and inguchi to help them relax, just to name a couple examples; you fuss over everyone and you care for them, too much. if that wasn’t enough, you were overly physically affectionate too. once you noticed the league members were fine with your hugs, a dam broke open and you give everyone hugs as often as they’d let you. it took them some getting used to, but they’re fine with it. (dabi receives his hugs in secret.) toga especially loves your hugs—she’s taken to calling you YN-nee.

he bares his claws when you try to do the same care and fuss for him, over him. he doesn’t need you or your softness or your care. he’ll eat your meals, but he won’t thank you. he doesn’t need your warmth, your kindness, your patience.

however, he does want it. he craves it, even if he can’t admit it to himself. (when was the last time anyone had ever treated him with tenderness…?)

after a nightmare that leaves him feeling like the bruised little boy who would sit outside with no one but mon to keep him company, he’s jerky and sensitive and shaken when he steps out of his room. he’s too out of it to really question why you’re out here, in the living room, wide awake with the television on, looking exhausted as he feels. shigaraki is tense, visibly so. whatever exhaustion you feel is replaced with worry. you stand. “hey, are you okay? what’s wrong?” you ask, voice quiet and concerned.

you take a step closer, eyes glimmering with an emotion he doesn’t know how to name. he isn’t sure he’s ever seen it directed toward him. he doesn’t know. right now, he is vulnerable and raw and—

“shigaraki,” you mumble. you hesitate and reach a hand out to him, as if to provide comfort. you know how he’s reacted to you before and you’ve never seen him like this, so you’re prepared for him to snap at you. who knows, maybe he’ll actually decay you, this time, in this state of his that you’re sure no one else has seen. the leagues has teased you for being too soft. maybe they are right. because…even if shigaraki may decay you right this moment, even if he hates you, you don’t want to leave him alone. his red eyes are wide and frightened, a bit glossy. he just—he looks so sad, so lost, so small. you want to help him. even if he kills you, you want to make sure he’s okay, first.

and—

his hand shoots out, curls around your wrist too firmly, on the edge of hurting. quickly, before you can blink, shigaraki is the one who yanks you to him and hugs you, body stiff, grip tight.

you freeze with shock, eyes wide. shigaraki is hugging you. you didn’t think this would ever happen. wow, is all you can think. wow. you blink and quickly tell yourself to be more surprised, later, because shigaraki needs you now.

so you wrap your arms around him, returning the embrace. your pudgy, soft body presses into him, squishy and warm. you rub your hand over his hand in circles, slow and careful. his breathing is still a bit uneven, shaky. you’re not sure what happened, really, that could get someone like shigaraki so…well, anxious. you know everyone in the league has demons that plague them, you just…you just didn’t think shigaraki’s demons made his heart and soul ache to this extent. he can bury it far, far under anger, hatred, resentment, and the desire to destroy the world, but…

deep down, he wants to be loved as much as anyone else. he wants acceptance. in his core, he’s just a little boy who wants unconditional affection. love. attention. (you think of a show you watched a while back—the good place. a particular quote has buried its way into your mind that’s guided your behavior with the league—they’re your family and friends, you can’t help it, you would’ve acted the same regardless—people improve when they get external love and support. how can we hold it against them when they don’t?)

“it’s okay, it’s alright,” you whisper softly. “i’m here, shigaraki. i’m here for you.”

after that, it’s like a switch flipped. he comes back to himself and he’s too embarrassed to look you in the eye. he avoids you for a few days, snatching his meals off the table and eating in his room. however…you finally get him alone and you silently offer him a hug in private and…there’s no judgement in your eyes as your arms are in the air. no sympathy or pity in your gaze. he should tell you to fuck off. he should decay you, even.

instead, he slowly opens his arms, and begrudgingly steps forward twice. he’s too prideful to be the one that hugs you, even if you’re the only ones in the room. last time, he was too vulnerable and initiated the hug. it’s only fair you do it this time.

and you do. you step forward and hug him. you squeeze him with your arms gently and firmly, your body flesh with his. he hates how he wraps his arms around you and finds that his comrades weren’t bluffing when they talked about how great a hugger you are. something inside of him unravels at your embrace. when was the last time someone held him like this?

from that day on, he indulges in your physical affection akin to a sponge with water. shigaraki finds that he can’t help it. he’s a dehydrated man in a desert and your touch is his salvation. he doesn’t like sharing you, but he’s secure in the comfort that he’s the only one who gets to cuddle with you in your flimsy pajamas. he doesn’t know if there’s a name for what you and him have. he doesn’t care, either.

as long as he has you, nothing else matters. you’ll be his undoing and he doesn’t mind it. not when it’s you. never when it’s you.

[cosmic-evening]

ᯓ★ do you love me, want me, hate me?

shigaraki x gn!reader

angst.

based on 1 step forward, 3 steps back by olivia rodrigo

a/n: is he losing interest in your relationship?

mha m.list | gen m.list

[deadhands69]

Black Coffee

Tenko Shimura/Tomura Shigaraki x gn Reader

Thanks for the request @s-0-ckz , this was so much fun to write! [1.2k wc]

“Black coffee, no room.” 

The man in front of you in line at your regular coffee shop grumbles his order before taking a seat near the window.

You try not to stare, it’s difficult though. 

There's something alluring about him. His presence feels oddly familiar, drawing you in. However, at the same time you've definitely never seen him or anyone quite like him in your life. For starters, he has distinctive scars, icy white hair, and vivid red eyes.

You peel your eyes away for long enough to stutter out your own order before taking a seat near him. He’s beautiful, in an otherworldly way, and you’re not sure if you’ll have the guts to ask for his number. Instead, you sit close-by in the hopes he’ll talk to you first. And you might stare a little.

He doesn’t, but his eyes flick up at you occasionally.

After forty minutes of debating in your head, you finally work up the courage to talk to him when he begins packing. He’s halfway through wrapping-up his laptop cord when he glances at you approaching him.

“Finally, I thought you’d never come over here.” The corner of his mouth quirks up into a smirk. A cute smirk. If you weren’t nervous already you certainly are now.

“Is there a reason I should have?” you ask tentatively.

“To say hi to me, I saw you staring.”

Oh. Fuck.

“Sorry, I-”

“It’s fine,” he laughs, “I almost came over earlier but figured I’d wait for you to talk to me.”

At that, a new surge of confidence overtakes you.

“Can I have your number?” you blurt out before your nerves can stop you.

“Yeah.”

You type it into your phone as he recites the numbers to you. Opening a ‘save contact’ page, you click the name field. Rather than save him as ‘cute coffee shop boy,’ you ask, “what’s your name?”

“Fucking seriously?” he groans, “nevermind.” 

Before you can say anything in return, he shoves past you and he’s out the door. You watch as his long hair swirls around him in the wind. 

Then he’s gone.

What just happened?

Over the next few days, you dwell on it more than you’d like to admit. Who is this mystery guy and why is he so angry with you? At first you were disappointed that someone so attractive is upset with you, but his irritability is off putting so you got over that fast. Now you’re just angry.

On your morning stops for coffee, he’s there every day. You’d never seen him here before but now he’s around constantly, glaring at you every time you enter. You’ve been taking your coffee to go lately just to avoid any awkwardness. 

This morning, you’ve had it. What right does he have to take one of your favorite places from you? You were here first. Also, it’s not like you did anything wrong. If he’s going to be grouchy, that’s on him.

“[y/n]” the barista calls out. You grab the ceramic mug before looking around for a spot.

This time, you’re the only two customers in here. Avoiding him and whatever temper he’s hiding today will be nearly impossible. Partially out of spite, you settle into a window seat directly facing him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him roll his eyes. He’s hot, even when he’s staring daggers in your direction and you hate that you’re even having that thought. You try hard not to look at him, pretending to have some sudden interest in the condensation dripping down the window.

After twenty minutes pass without issue, you figure he got over it. Not quite.

“Have you figured it out yet?” he taunts from two tables away. 

“Figured what out?”

“Seriously?” he looks at you incredulously, “you really don't remember me?”

Remember him from where? You’d remember someone with cherry red eyes and long milky hair.

You stare at him inquisitively. He almost reminds you of your best friend growing up, it can’t be him though. Tenko died in a villain attack with his family years ago. Plus, he had darker hair and eyes. You’d remember, a photo of the two of you as kids is your lockscreen background.

“I’m sorry, I don’t.”

He looks more sad than angry as he turns his back to you and leaves again.

That night, you’re still thinking about it. It’s driving you crazy and you’d rather just be done with it. You decide to text him. Not like there’s anything to lose, right?

[you] Where do I know you from? [you] Can you just give me a hint? [cute angry coffee shop boy] I can’t believe you just forgot me like that, after everything. wtf [y/n]

You never gave him your name. Maybe he overheard it from the barista.

The two of you exist in the same space, not talking for the next few mornings. You’ve given up on thinking of where you could possibly have met him and he’s given up pushing you. Yet, he’s still here when surely there’s somewhere else he could be. 

Today, the shop is packed. The sound of ceramic clinking and low conversations drown out the lofi played in the background. You’re glad to find the one open chair in the place until you see who it’s next to. 

“I won’t bite, just fucking sit,” says the man who’s name you still don’t know. He pulls the chair out for you, not bothering to look up. 

You glance at the full mug you’re holding; you should have gotten it to go. Reluctantly, you sit. Pulling out your phone to read an article and ignoring him as much as you can. A few minutes later, the barista calls out your pastry order. You drop your phone on the table and make your way to the counter.

On the short walk back, you see your phone buzz on the table ahead. A head of white hair turns to the distraction and freezes.

You sit, trying to carry on with your morning, but the man next to you is still staring. He doesn’t move, even after you sit down. He looks like he saw a ghost.

“Thought you didn’t care,” he mumbles quietly.

“What are you talking about?”

“Do I really look that different now?” he picks up your phone, holding the display next to his face. 

Outside of the hair and eye color, the resemblance is uncanny. How did you not notice?

“T-Tenko?” you whisper, “you-you’re alive?”

No wonder he was upset, the two of you were best friends as kids. You never could have imagined seeing him again. Without thinking, you wrap your arms around him; practically jumping onto his lap. 

“I can’t believe it’s you,” you half sob into the hood of his sweatshirt. He even smells like you remember. 

The two of you spend the rest of the day catching up. In what feels like less than an hour, the place is empty and your favorite barista is flipping the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed.’

“Time to finish your drinks,” he says, “didn’t think I’d see you two talking all day.” He disappears into the back to finish cleaning.

Tenko looks at you, nervous for the first time since you’ve met him again. “Uhm,” he starts, “want to grab dinner? I get it if you already have plans and need to go but it would be nice to talk more.”

“No,” you clarify, “I mean, I have no plans. I’d love to.”

“Perfect,” he smiles, “it’s a date then.”

masterlist

[what-the-stories-have-foretold]

Soft and Warm and Pretty

For my birthday boy 💕

Shigaraki Tomura/Shimura Tenko x reader

Warnings: none at all, can be read as canon or modern au

Wordcount: 300+

The apartment was quiet, but for the steady buzzing of the playstation. The tv screen was already black, a light flimmer the only thing left to indicate it still being on. Soft breath fanned over your chest, warming your skin, arms flung around you, holding you tightly. He shivered with every soft scrape of your fingernails against his scalp. His lips were partially open, his cheeks blossoming pink. You let the tips of your fingers softly trail across them. He nuzzled closer.

Earlier, you had crawled into his lap while he gamed, pressing your face into his neck and pressing kisses to his jaw. Now, the controller laid forgotten and he was curled against you, lashes fluttering every so often against his cheeks.

He looked pretty, serene and soft. Gently, you brushed a strand of hair out of his face; hand lingering, hovering above his forehead. Then, you bent down a little to give him a kiss.

He caught your lips with ease, arms pulling you against him even tighter, as if he was trying to merge with you and become one. A hum escaped him, content and vulnerable. When you pulled back, his eyebrows were furrowed in concentration and his lips glossy and red.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, blinking up at you with an adorable glare. But when your fingers brushed through his hair again and soft, unintelligible coos hit his ears, he started to go slack against you.

Finally, his breath evened out.

Still, you watched him, although you could feel a heavy drowsiness settling on your body, too.

You pulled him even closer, holding him gently against your chest and pressed a last kiss to his cheek. He really did look so very pretty like this. His fingers twitched against your sides at your affection. Even in his sleep, he was primed to know you.

Carefully, your rested your cheek on the top of your head, letting sleep take over, the weight of his body lulling you to sleep.

[lysaisland]

hi!!! i really love your work 💙💙

could i request shigiraki headcannons? on anything really :))

heyy tysm for your req anon!

started really racking my head for shiggy thoughts bc this was so vague lmao. this is a bit of crack tbh sorry, enjoy anyway!!

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

[kleftiko]

❦ THROUGH THE THIN WALLS

“it doesn’t matter that he’s not the man of your affections when he’s watching you touch yourself and pretending it’s his name you’ll be whining tonight”

cw: non-consensual voyeurism, masturbation, toys, degradation, dirty talk

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

He was such a pervert.

Straining his eyes to catch the best glimpse of you with your back arched, vibrator between your legs, and pornographic reactions was just horrible. And yet, he couldn't even feel guilty when he came back night after night, hid behind the door of your closet, and pumped his aching cock.

You were always so vocal, too; you had no reason to stay quiet when you thought no one would hear anyway. And sometimes, he would catch the names that slip from your tongue, making the whole charade even more filthy, cause then he would see you the next day, talk to them, and pretend like he didn't know you fucked yourself to the thought of them. The allure of your uninhibited pleasure was too intoxicating to resist. It became a twisted game of secrecy, where he played the oblivious colleague by day and the voyeuristic participant by night.

More often than not, he'd bite down whatever random item of yours was in reach, relishing the fact that it smelled like you, and came to the thought of his name panting from your lips.

This night was no different; he waited behind the closet door as you prepped yourself. Naked legs spread out just for him as you grabbed your box of toys.

You began by pinching your nipples. The anticipation in the room grew as he watched, his breath quickening with each pinch. He couldn't help but imagine the pleasure he could bring you, longing to be the one to make you moan with ecstasy.

Your body wiggled with anticipation, and the sight of it only fueled his desire further. He imagined the way your hips would sway against his and the way your movements would synchronize in a desperate act of pleasure. The intensity of his longing grew, and he couldn't help but imagine being able to join you in this.

Then one of your fingers crawled down your bare stomach to your thighs, scratching lightly again your soft skin as it reached your pussy. Your lips spread with a disgusting pop, already wet from a bit of teasing, and he loved how sensitive you were. He ached to explore every inch of your body, to taste the sweetness that lingered on your lips, and to feel the warmth of your lust against his own. The dream of finally being able to share in this intimate affair consumed him, lighting a fire within that burned hotter with each passing moment. Shigaraki didn't notice when he started palming himself.

"That's it, baby." You breathed as your fingers traced your clit. "At least you could do one thing right."

He bit his lip at that, wondering who you were degrading tonight.

The room was filled with an intoxicating mix of desire and power as Shigaraki's thoughts were consumed by the twisted pleasure of degradation. His mind raced with anticipation, wondering what dark desires you would unleash upon him tonight. The thrill of surrendering control to you always ignited an unnatural excitement within him, pushing him further into the depths of his own depravity.

His eyes were glued to your sex, straining through the door lock and trying to see it clench around nothing but a finger. He didn't notice when you removed the bullet vibrator, but he quickly undid his pants and removed his throbbing cock, knowing that the first sound you made when it came in contact with you was nothing short of ecstasy. As you pressed the little toy against your clit, his breath hitched and his hand moved faster along his length.

"C-can't even please me by yourself, huh?" You spoke into your room. "Need help from a toy?"

Shigaraki shuddered, watching you run circles over your cunt before dipping it past your lips and coating the vibrator with your slick. You pulled it out with a whimper as you brought it to your mouth, teasingly licking the tip before returning it to its rightful place between your legs. The sight of you pleasuring yourself so shamelessly drove him wild, fueling his desire to hear you scream in pleasure.

You continued your assault, one hand tweaking your tit and the other controlling the vibrator, causing your slick to run down your spread legs to your asshole. As you came for the first time, your body convulsed with waves of ecstasy, your moans filling the room. The intensity of your orgasm left you breathless, but it only fueled your hunger for more. Determined to push yourself further, you increased the speed of the vibrator and overstimulated yourself, eager to experience even greater pleasure.

Shigaraki had to force himself off his cock, knowing you never stopped at one orgasm, and he didn't want to stop the show too soon.

You began to whimper.

"No," you huffed and squirmed. "No more—I can't take anymore!"

You shook violently. Your body trembled uncontrollably as waves of pleasure coursed through every inch of your being. The sensations were overwhelming, pushing you to the brink of ecstasy. Despite your useless pleas for mercy, the desire for more consumed you, tempting you to surrender to the intense pleasure that awaited.

Then you collapsed. As you lay there, panting and spent, a sense of satisfaction washed over you. The overwhelming pleasure had taken its toll, leaving you completely drained. Your body trembled with aftershocks, and a contented smile played on your lips as you relished in the blissful aftermath of your intense climax.

But you still reached for the box.

The dildo you pulled out had him smacking his hand over his mouth to cover his moan. It was way too big for you, and you obviously knew this as Shigaraki saw the excitement in your eyes. It must've been a new one you hadn't used before, because the way you immediately clenched as you pushed it through your sopping lips was both thrilling and intimidating to him. He couldn't help but imagine the stretch and pleasure it would bring you, and the thought of being able to witness it up close made his heart race. As you continued to please yourself, he struggled to contain his own desires, longing to join in and make the experience even more overwhelming for you. The uninhibited whimper that emitted from your tear-stained face as you yanked the pink toy from your cunt was drool-inducing, and the string of your arousal that clung to it as it emerged caused it to gleam as it connected your sex and the dildo. Then you plunged it back in, and Shigaraki saw your back arch like a cat in front of him. You were so masochistic, and he loved it.

Then you picked right back up with your dirty talk, and he let his hand go back to his cock.

"You're such a disgusting pervert," you moaned, your voice filled with desire. "I want you to try and fuck me better. I dare you."

Shigaraki's eyes darkened with lust as he gripped his dick tighter, imagining it's him fulfilling your every wicked desire. Your provocative words were fueling his own appetite, which he could feel growing. With a mischievous grin, he silently accepted your challenge, determined to show just how wicked he could be. As he continued to pleasure himself, the room filled with an electrifying tension, both of you eager to explore the depths of your darkest desires, even if you weren't aware of his presence.

"Fuck, you a virgin, baby?" You asked. "Don't even know how to fuck a girl?"

Your words hung in the air, a mix of curiosity and challenge. Your provocative taunts caused his grin to grow wider. He lowered his voice, dripping with wickedness, as he whispered to himself, "Oh, baby, you have no idea what I can do."

"Bet Dabi can fuck me better." You whined, pumping the dildo in and out of your cunt.

Shigaraki's hands mimicked the motions as he watched you with a predatory gaze.

"What? Can't even defend yourself? You too fucked out already?" you bit.

Shigaraki watched you reach over your shoulder, bringing back the vibrator that was covered in your now-dry cum.

"So pathetic, you can't even get me off with your small dick."

Shigaraki's sadistic grin widened, relishing in the humiliation. "Oh, don't worry. I have plenty of other ways to make you scream my name." He leaned in closer, his forehead touching the door and his voice dripping with wickedness, as he whispered to himself, "Oh, baby, you have no idea what I can do. But trust me, by the time I'm done with you, Dabi will be long gone."

He imagined you underneath him, squirming and whimpering from the combined pleasure of his dick and fingers. His mind was consumed with thoughts of the power he could hold over you, thinking that he could push you to your limits and beyond. Shigaraki revelled in the anticipation of the pleasure and pain he would inflict upon you, relishing in the control he had over your body and mind. His breathing hitched, his hand quickening its assault on his slick cock. The thoughts in his head, sight of you before him, and sounds you made drove him right to the edge., but what you screamed when you pressed the vibrator back against your clit had him coming all over the door in front of him.

"Tomura!" you shouted.

Shigaraki stuttered in realization, his head lost in the throes of his own pleasure. The intensity of the moment had consumed him, leaving him unable to know if what he heard was a mere manifestation of his own desires. The overwhelming sensation of release washed over him, leaving him breathless and trembling. It was a climax unlike any he had experienced before—an explosion of pleasure that seemed to shake his very core. As he slowly regained his senses, Shigaraki couldn't help but feel a newfound sense of triumph, thinking that he was finally the one on your mind in the most intimate sense.

Then you whimpered his name again, arms shaking and body trembling from the double assault of the dildo and vibrator. The intensity of the pleasure surged through his veins, amplifying his satisfaction and fueling his desire for more. In that moment, he realized the power he held over you, knowing that he had brought you to such a state of ecstasy. The realization fueled his confidence, igniting a fire within him to explore even deeper realms of pleasure with you.

Your voice quivered with pure bliss as you uttered his name once more, the sound reverberating in the air as you reached the peak of your pleasure. The intensity of your orgasm mirrored his own, looking like it sent you to another dimension as he watched through the hole.

He couldn't help going back to his abused cock, completely disoriented by the way his name sounded coming from your quivering lips. You babbled his name aimlessly as you came down from your high, vibrator left abandoned atop the covers, still going and spreading your slick along the fabric. The dildo pumped in and out lazily due to your pulsing cunt, and it was mesmerizing.

As you shakingly regained your composure, you let out one last wanton whimper as you pulled the toy out of you and took in the mess you made between your legs.

"Tomura." You sang and looked directly at the closet.

Shigaraki froze. His eyes widened in surprise, and his hand was immobilized on his dick. The name hung in the air, charged with a mix of desire, and he couldn't tell if this was some sick joke.

But the smile you gave him, the haze of post-orgasm bliss, and the grinding of your hips into the bed said otherwise.

You asked, "Wanna come clean me up?"

[yvannahaleth]

Tomura Shigaraki x Reader

Comfort, slowburn, mention of murder, GN! Reader, reader is part of the LOV, Tomura is possessive, jealous, immature, kuudere, in denial. Physical touch.

To think that he—the leader of the LOV—would feel something for you, is ridiculous. Of course he wouldn't think any of that. He is here only to destroy. There is no time to waste for him to be by your side, even if you insist to just make him accompanied.

He despises getting touched. He'd flinch, backing away from you at first. Either frightened or intimidated, no one knows if he's scared for your sake or for his. He knows well what his Quirk would be able to accomplish, ultimately murdering someone.

Tomura doesn't need to tolerate you. You're supposed to be the one to do it. Right, maybe he has to, just a little. Just for the sake of the missions. He'll at least be fond of you, just so you could visit the hangout more often—for the meetings, of course. Nothing more. Only for professional purposes.

Clearly not because he wants to be in the same room as you. To be the object that your tender eyes lay on. To be someone you look for solutions to the missions. To be someone you gently encourage. To hear your calming voice as you suggest a plan B. Of course not.

Even if he admits it, Tomura knows that he wouldn't make a move to you. It's pointless. He exists just to serve AFO. Nothing more. He lives just to serve justice for the world that wronged him. There is no point in enjoying life, ultimately enjoying being with you.

To be honest, he knows he'll have to tolerate you, somehow. If possible, he'd like to keep you to use as long as possible. So, it's only natural for him to not wanting to hurt you, yes? It is only natural. You're useful. Then, he'd have to tolerate you. He'll let you rest your palm on his shoulder as if it's a casual touch. He'll let you rub your thumb against the back of his palm. He'll let you hold his arm, pulling him back when he attempts to attack another member. He'll let you ruffle his hair as an encouragement when his plan fails, just for a second though.

He lets all of your antics, just for once. Truly, there is no need for all these inconvenience.

Though, once, you didn't show up. He shuts his lips, wondering if you have something better to do than resting in the hangout place. Of course. There is definitely a better place than being with all of these freaks, right? There is definitely a better place than being with him. He knows. That's what he expected from you from the very beginning. He's not surprised. He's not supposed to be surprised. You're just a tool for his plan to make a new world. You're it and just it.

There is no need for him to get used to your tender palm against his back, caressing him gently, making him gradually relax, when he starts to get itchy. There is no need for him to get used to your soothing voice as his head slowly lowers, his eyelids heavy, when he couldn't sleep. There is no need for him to even long for your touch to calm him down. There is no need for him to need you by his side when he gets frustrated. There is no need for him to feel anything for you, at all.

Then, what is this aching sensation on his chest?

When Tomura spots you chuckling with the other members, taking care of them as if you're their mother, he can't help but scoff. He wouldn't admit it—if possible—but he does care for the league. But when it comes to you, he could feel his finger twitch. Why would you care for others? Why would you even acknowledge others?

That's hilarious. You're supposed to smother him with love. To him and him only. He's not the leader just for the title. He wants your affection in actions. Do it, then.

To be frank, he couldn't believe himself either. He thinks of himself as a revenge. The revenge itself. To destroy the world. A destroyer would not feel anything. At all. But when you show your sweet smile, even just for a second, he wishes for a world just for him and you. Especially you.

When you confronted him about how he acts when you're with others, he denies it, claiming that he had better things to do than having this stupid talk. Yet he continues to gaze at you. Your eyes. Even if it's filled with annoyance or even wrath, he knows he'll find himself drowning in yours.

He'll let it slide. Your antiques on making his eyes twitch. Even if you deny it, he believes that you like seeing this pathetic side of him. That's what you want, right? He knows that you enjoy seeing him get used to your touch, seeing him not flinching, instead relaxing. You like it when he's weak, right? When he's vulnerable. You can strike at any moment now. Do it. When you do, he knows this is the first and last time he'll let someone walk all over him.

But you never did.

Tomura can't help but get weirded out. Why are you so strange? Why would anyone do something so foolish? If you like seeing this pathetic side of him so badly, this is the perfect time to attack him. Is this your actual intention?

To wrap your arms around him carefully, as if he's a fragile glass. To caress his hair that he never takes care of. To wash his hair that he never cares about. To rub a chapstick to his lips he never gives a look to. To examine his fingers closely with your focused eyes, as if it's a gem that fell from the sky. To throw praises at him that he never knew he needed. To be here with him.

The League of Villains teached him that he is allowed to live and be happy. They teached him that it's totally fine to not think about Master for a second. They teached him that it's absolutely alright to stay still and enjoy the warmth now.

With your presence alone, he could—at least—believe that he's more than a puppet for his master. He's definitely much more than that, you'd encourage.

He's yours. Yours to love.

[scary-grace]

Call Me Sometime (Chapter 2) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

You work the dispatch desk at a phone sex line to make ends meet, and you're used to handling some strange calls. But the caller you're babysitting tonight is the strangest by far -- and that's before you find out why he called.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

“Phone for you!” Mizuho hollers from somewhere deep in the recesses of Shiroiwa’s building. It echoes like nothing you’ve ever heard, but somehow it works in her favor.

“I’m not working phones tonight!” You holler back. A client unleashed on you earlier, and in a rare show of compassion, Akiko stuck somebody else in the headset for tonight. “Make somebody else do it. I’m in the mailroom. Boss’s orders.”

“Just come get the headset. You can wear it while you work.” Mizuho waits a second, then shouts again. “Now!”

You groan and straighten up from the pile of packages you’re sorting. The mailroom is a boring job for sure, but it hasn’t been your best week at work, and the idea of getting back on the phone tonight makes your stomach clench. But orders are orders, and since the incident with Tenko two weeks ago, you’ve been very strict with yourself about following the rules.

It’s not like you got in real trouble, or any trouble. Once Akiko calmed down about the whole thing, she actually gave you a bonus for stepping up and handling it, keeping the client occupied and leaving him wanting more. It’s more that the interaction unsettled you a bit, more that you don’t like the line you crossed in yourself, the way you went from treating Tenko like a client to something almost like a friend. You wouldn’t have bantered like that with a client. You wouldn’t have let slip even one detail about yourself. You don’t like the line you crossed. You don’t like how easy it was for you to do it.

You make your way back through Shiroiwa’s maze of corridors to the desk where you usually sit and find Mizuho holding out the spare headest. “Put this on and get out of here,” she orders, scowling. “Pushy, this one. Wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“Details?” you ask out of habit.

“Straight. No problems affording it.” Mizuho answers the last part of your question as you hook the headset over your ear, when it’s already way too late for you to do anything but brace for impact. “Twenty.”

That’s all the warning you get. The next thing you know, Tenko’s voice is in your ear. “I thought you said you just answered phones. Why didn’t you answer when I called?”

“I usually just answer phones. Tonight’s an off night.” You look hopelessly at Mizuho, and she shoos you away, back towards the mailroom. “Tenko, um –”

“What are you doing if you’re not answering phones?”

“I’m in the mailroom.” Or you will be, anyway. You’re suddenly certain you don’t want an audience for this call. “Tenko, you know you’re paying for this, right?”

“I know,” Tenko says impatiently in that raspy voice. “Your boss made you hang up before I was done.”

Before he was done? You feel like you would have known if he was jerking off on the other end of the line. Would a guy really jerk off to you singing happy birthday? Your face twists with discomfort, and as the silence stretches, Tenko clearly catches on to what it sounded like. “I wasn’t done talking. Don’t be disgusting.”

“You’re the one who called a phone sex line.” You get back to the mailroom and the massive pile of packages you were sorting. Hopefully this phone call doesn’t distract you into making any big mistakes. “It’s weird that you weren’t jerking off.”

“Maybe I would have, if I was talking to one of the others instead of you.”

“I offered to transfer you. Two times,” you say, exasperated. “You wouldn’t even let me tell you what I was wearing.”

It’s quiet for a second. There’s a muffled sound on the other end of the line – maybe a snicker. “I knew you were going to say that.”

“Yeah, we’ve got an inside joke. So what?” The first package in the pile is addressed to Akiko – like at least two dozen of the packages you’ve already sorted. You consult your tablet, then start prying it open. “Why did you call us, Tenko?”

“Are you stupid or something? I wasn’t done talking to you,” Tenko says. You feel ten kinds of weird about that. “I asked for Nine when I called. They didn’t know who I was talking about.”

“Did you think I was going to give out my real name?”

“I gave mine,” Tenko says. “What’s your real name?”

“That’s a level ten question. We’re at level two,” you say. “Ask something else.”

“Why didn’t you make up an actual fake name instead of just using a number?”

“I panicked,” you say, which is true. “That’s my character’s name on my D&D campaign. It was the first thing that came to mind.”

“You said you weren’t good except on a team,” Tenko says. You remember that part of the conversation. You were negging yourself on purpose, trying to build him up, like you’ve heard other operators do hundreds of times, but you weren’t exactly lying. “What did you mean?”

“I’m a Life Cleric,” you say. Tenko makes a questioning sound. “Cleric is my character class, Life is the domain I’m attuned to. The reason I said I’m not good when I’m not part of a team is because all my skills are linked to healing – mostly. My character’s name is Nine because the deity she worships will let her do nine complete resurrections. So if the other members of the party die, my character can bring them back to life at full health and power, no questions asked.”

It was a cool character attribute when you picked it, but the DM wouldn’t let you use it unless there was a catch. “What happens after the ninth resurrection?” Tenko asks. “If you had to do it again.”

“The tenth time is a swap. My life for the life of the person I’m trying to resurrect,” you say. “And then my character’s soul goes straight to hell.”

“Why?”

“Because doing the resurrection knowing it’ll kill me is like committing suicide,” you explain. “According to the deity my character worships, suicide’s a sin.”

It’s quiet for a second. “This is a weird game,” Tenko states.”

“You have no idea.” You think back to last weekend’s session. “Right now we’re trying to clear a dungeon so we can get the item hidden at its center, and every time we run into something we can’t kill in one turn, our party’s rogue rolls to seduce it. And she keeps rolling high.”

Tenko laughs at that – actually laughs. His laughter is awkward and rusty. “What happens then?”

“We sit there for a whole turn while she roleplays seducing it.” You cringe at the thought. Yuka from work plays the rogue. She’s one of the phone sex operators, and as a result, she’s way too good at talking dirty. “Last session I rolled to bleach my own brain and it was a critical failure.”

Tenko is still laughing. “You guys are never getting out of there.”

“I know.” You’ve been focusing on the conversation rather than your actual job. You open Akiko’s package, checking it against her list. It checks out, so you tape it up again and drop it into her mail bin. “How are you, Tenko?”

“What?”

“How are you? We talked about me, so I’m asking about you. How are you?” That’s not what you really want to know. You want to know why he’s called you back, and also if Mizuho has him paying the phone sex rate for a decidedly unsexy conversation. “Tenko?”

“Fine. Bored. Work sucked.”

So he’s got a job. “What sucked about it?”

“My – boss.” Tenko pauses oddly mid-sentence. “He has this big project for me. I know what my objective is but I don’t know how to get there and he’s not giving me any hints. He just keep saying I can start over as much as I need to. Like he knows I’m going to fail.”

“Oh.” You wouldn’t like that, if Akiko pulled something like that on you – or if an instructor did. “Is he trying to get you to achieve an objective or trying to get you to learn?”

“Both? I don’t fucking know.” Tenko groans. “If I knew how I’d have done it already, but I don’t.”

“Have you gotten projects like that before?” you ask.

“No.”

So it’s a big responsibility, it’s something he’s never done before, and his boss has made it clear that he’s expecting him to screw up. “It doesn’t seem very fair to you. I mean, from where I’m standing. I don’t know what your job is like, but it seems like you need more help than he’s giving you.”

“Yeah.” Tenko exhales slowly. You can hear that raspy note in his breathing, too. You wonder if he’s okay. “I knew you’d get it.”

Why did he think that? It weirds you out, and so does his next question. “How are you?”

“Uh, fine. I’m just in the mailroom.”

“Escort services have mailrooms?”

“We get mail just like every other business,” you say. “Mostly it’s gifts, though. All the escorts and operators have wish lists, and sometimes their regular clients buy them things.”

“Like what?” Tenko asks, skeptical.

“Uh –” You glance at the package of Akiko’s you just sorted. “For the high-tier workers, it’s stuff like jewelry or clothes. Usually designer. Last week somebody sent my boss a lingerie set with actual gemstones on it. The high-tiers get presents. For everybody else it’s like – toys and stuff. Things the clients want them to use or wear during sessions.”

It’s strange. You don’t know what Tenko looks like, but you can picture his expression twisting with disgust. “And you open all that stuff?”

“I have to make sure it’s actually on the worker’s wish list,” you explain. “If not, we send it back.”

You’ve heard some of the workers say that it’s unusual to do something like that, that most of the time the clients get the final say on everything. Shiroiwa’s different. Fancier. And according to Akane, the high-tier you’re friendliest with, a lot of the clients get off on being bossed around a little bit. “What kind of shit do you send back?” Tenko asks.

“Let’s see.” You select a package from the pile that’s addressed to Noriko – Noriko, who’s wish list is extremely short, and definitely doesn’t include what’s in here. You open it to confirm and wince. “So this one operator doesn’t have anything on her list but lingerie or costumes. Schoolgirl uniforms, maid dresses, things like that. But some client had the bright idea to send her a giant dildo. We’ll be sending that back.”

Tenko makes a weird, choked sound. “How giant?”

You consult the packing slip. “Fourteen inches. Whoever sent this watches way too much hentai. Anatomy-wise, there’s just not that much room in there.” You think about it for a second, a page from your borrowed anatomy textbook popping into your head. “Unless it’s for anal, but that’s also pretty high-risk.”

Tenko still sounds like his airway’s being restricted. “Where do you come up with this stuff?”

“I work at an escort service, and my coworkers are kind of talkative.” You got used to it after a little bit, but you’re pretty sure you spent the first two weeks you worked at Shiroiwa in a constant state of secondhand embarrassment. “And I study anatomy. So there’s that.”

You repackage the dildo, stamp it as return to sender, and drop it into the outgoing mail bin. You’re in the process of opening another package when you realize that Tenko hasn’t said anything in a while, and that your candid info-dump about the feasibility of monster dildos and your slight against people who watch too much hentai might have offended him. “Um – are you still there?”

“Yeah.” Tenko sounds like he’s back to normal. Sort of. “How much room is in there? On average.”

“In a vagina?” You feel like this is the wrong conversation to be having. Akiko would kill you if she heard you going over reproductive anatomy facts on the phone with a client. Sex work is about fantasy. This is – not. “Four to eight inches, max.”

“Oh.” Tenko’s voice gives you absolutely no clue how he feels about this. If you had to guess, you’d say he’s reevaluating own size in relation to how much room there actually is to work with, but you can’t tell if the reevaluation is in his favor or not. There’s absolutely no way you’re going to ask, and you’re pretty sure he’s not going to tell you. “What are you studying anatomy for?”

“That’s a personal question.”

“You just told me how much room there is in – there.”

“I was speaking in general. Not about me.” There’s nothing secondhand about the embarrassment that kicks in. Shriveling up and dying feels like an appropriate response – and so does answering Tenko’s too-personal question in order to get off the subject of how much space there is in your vagina. “I want to be a paramedic. The last time you talked to me I was studying biology for my entrance exam. I won’t need anatomy unless I get in, but I think it’s interesting, so I study that sometimes, too.”

“Why do you care if I ask you personal questions?” Tenko asks. There’s a sulky note in his voice that piques your temper. “You ask me.”

“You’re the client. You want a conversation, so we’re having a conversation.” You check the gift you just opened against Yumiko’s list, then repackage it and drop it in her bin. “It’s not about me. I could be anybody. You shouldn’t ask me questions just to be polite.”

Tenko laughs. There’s something twisted about the sound, something that raises the hairs on the back of your neck. “You’re crazy if you think I do anything just to be polite. I asked because I want to know.”

Tenko needs a lesson in boundaries. There’s shit clients just don’t ask their phone sex operators. What an operator’s wearing? Sure. Whether she likes it rough? Absolutely. Whether she’d let him come inside without a condom if they were having sex instead of just talking about it? Totally aboveboard. Asking what you’re studying and why? So inappropriate it’s not even funny.

And you’re not even an operator. You route calls and you open the mail. Taking calls with clients isn’t part of your job description. What are you even doing on the phone with this guy? “Look, I need to go. If I’m not going to answer the questions you want me to, you shouldn’t waste your money.”

“Hey. Wait. You can’t hang up.” Tenko’s response is instant, insistent, and more desperate than you would have expected. “Don’t hang up. I won’t ask more questions. You can just tell me –”

“What I’m wearing?”

“Shut up,” Tenko says, but you can hear that he’s trying to hold back laughter. It’s a different kind of laughter than a moment ago. ‘What’s in the packages you’re sorting. Whether it’s going back or not. That kind of thing. I don’t care. Just don’t hang up.”

You try to restructure your idea of Tenko in your head. He’s pushy. He’s sort of a dick. His idea of what’s going on between the two of you is deeply messed up. And at the same time, he’s paying a lot to have this conversation. And he’s willing to keep paying for it even if all you do is tell him about the packages you’re going through. Your brain reminds you, like it probably should have a while ago, that you’re dealing with somebody who called a phone sex line on his birthday so he’d have somebody to talk to. Tenko is weird and pushy and sort of a dick. Tenko’s also really lonely. If he wasn’t, he’d be talking to a friend or a girlfriend instead of you.

Sorting packages is boring, even if the stories you get out of it aren’t. Your friends from school don’t know about your job, so you can’t tell them about it, and your coworkers aren’t interested in all the weird things you find. Tenko needs somebody to talk to, and you want somebody to tell about the weird gifts clients send to your coworkers. Looking at it that way, you’re perfect for each other.

“Fine,” you say, and Tenko breathes an audible sigh of relief on the other end of the line. At least you’re hoping it’s relief. You lift the next package off the pile. “So this one is for one of the club workers. It’s really heavy – and it’s covered in like fifty layers of tape, which means the client mailed it himself. That’s commitment.”

“How do they usually send it?”

“Amazon,” you say, and Tenko snorts. You wrestle the package open at last and your jaw drops. “Uh –”

“What is it?”

“The Kama Sutra, but it’s, like – antique.” You don’t know anything about books, but this one looks old, and old stuff is expensive. “This guy must be loaded if he can afford something like this.”

“Is it on the list?”

“It – yes.” You’re pretty sure that Satomi wasn’t asking for this edition of it, but her list does say Kama Sutra on it. “She’s going to flip when she sees this. Club workers almost never get fancy stuff.”

“You can tell me what she says about it,” Tenko says. “The next time I call you.”

You were hoping there wouldn’t be a next time. Your stomach drops, and questions crawl into your mind – about why he’s stable enough to hold down a job but doesn’t have any friends, about why he’s so squeamish about sex when he’s the one calling a phone sex line, about why he’d even want to call you again when your conversations are so awkward. You don’t want to talk to him like this anymore. You’re too close in age, and it’s too easy, too much like talking to a friend. You have enough friends. You don’t need a client thinking he’s one of them.

But this is work. It’s work, and a conversation like this is easy money, money Akiko will tear you up one side and down the other if you leave on the table. “Next time,” you say, and set the book down carefully in Satomi’s bin. “Sounds good.”

<- Chapter 1

taglist: @f3r4lfr0gg3r @cheeseonatower @stardustdreamersisi @shigarakislaughter @evilcookie5 @deadhands69 @shikiblessed @agente707 @atspiss @boogiemansbitch @baking-ghoul @xeveryxstarfallx @warxhammer @issaortiz @lacrimae-lotos @babybehh @aslutforfictionalmen @lvtuss @koohiii @minniessskii @handumb @dance-with-me-in-hell

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

"..did you just sniff me ?"

"no."

immediate, crisp. a little snappy, maybe a little too fast. the word leaves tomura's mouth in an instant.

"..you sure ?" your voice shakes, lips twitching to desperate hide your smile. tomura's eyes twitch and narrow, he notices. "yeah." he grits out. his voice remains forcibly even.

"tomu--"

"i wouldn't sniff you. that's fucking weird." he readjusts on the couch, grunting as he does so. you can tell he's desperately trying to make himself more comfortable, he refuses to look your way.

"well, if you just so happened to--"

"i didn't."

"hypothetically. if you did, i smell different because i changed my perfume. it smelled good and i wanted to try something different." you explain, continuing to scroll on your phone in an attempt to calm your boyfriend's nerves. snuggling into him again. no matter how many times you do it it still makes him stiffen the slightest bit, affection is something he can never quite get used to. he loosens up soon after. slowly leaning his shoulders to yours just slightly so he can feel the pressure, so you can feel his weight on you.

it takes him a minute before he grunts out a barely audible "smells good."

[lizzy06]

Shigarakai Tomura(Shimura Tenko) x Reader Fic Recs!! (Tumblr/Ao3/Wattpad)

My Hero Academia Fic Rec Masterlist

The Mushroom Cloud✨ by @oreosmama (oneshot, angst)Shigaraki promised to come back for you in that warehouse. Promised to save you, pinned under exploded debris that crushed your legs to nothingness. The ambush wasn’t supposed to happen, but neither was the explosion that occurred after. “Fine, you can come. But if your ass gets blown up, don’t come cryin’ to me.” [COMPLETED]

blind date |Part 2 ✨ by @scary-grace (humor, fluff)After endless failed attempts to help Tomura up his game, his friends have settled on their last resort: A blind date. Even before you show up, it's not going well. [COMPLETED]

Enchanted✨✨ by Cheeky_Kitsune(fantasy au, fluff) (Name) is out collecting herbs for her mother when she meets the one and only ‘evil warlock’ that her village fears. However, instead of being evil and menacing, he is simply a grouchy man that saves her from touching a poisonous plant that mimics the appearance of the herb she was sent out to retrieve. [COMPLETED]

No, You Can't Kidnap Me From Work✨ by darlingdove (oneshot, soulmate au, fluff) Having your soulmate be the one and only leader of the League of Villains can be difficult at times. Especially since he's so clingy, and as a civilian, your interests can sometimes clash. It was this random Monday night in particular that made you start to realize the position you were in. [COMPLETED]

Smile✨ by kingyohno (oneshot, angst) Shigaraki learned early on that life tended to pick favorites, and that he wasn't one of them. Unfortunately, neither was she. [COMPLETED]

Gentle Hands/ tumblr✨ by @alaskasmonsters/alaskasmonsters (hurt/comfort, angst, fluff)with a quirk like shigaraki’s physical touch had never been something another person had trusted him with. the fear of what he could do proved to be too great to get close enough. everyone was scared to touch him…everyone but you. [COMPLETED]

Delicate ✨by TheINFJReader (oneshot, fluff, angst) The good news: You are returned to the League of Villains relatively unharmed after being taken as a hostage. You get to see your boss again, the person that you secretly love the most. The bad news: The other villains gave you truth serum when they took you. It has yet to wear off. [COMPLETED]

Play To Win by sanchoyo(oneshot) The league of villains are robbing a bank in the middle of the day on a Tuesday. You're a hostage, and you've caught the attention of their leader. [COMPLETED]

Room for Two by afictionalwhore(oneshot, fluff, single bed trope) Perhaps the worst part of the setup was right across from the TV: a single bed in the middle of the room. [COMPLETED]

Atrophy & Rally ✨by Emrys_Aaryn(soulmate au, angst with happy ending)Soulmates and soulmate marks have been around forever. One another can even feel injuries or strong enough emotions. However, when quirks became more prominent, soulmate bonds warped. [COMPLETED]

Touch ✨by @tooruluv (oneshot, angst, friends to almost lovers) Tomura Shigaraki was independent, individualistic. Yet, he was a leader. So, why is it that he had a weakness? A stupid girl who spent entirely too much effort in trying to touch him. [COMPLETED]

The League by @bnhascribbles(oneshot, idk man) “Do you think we’re bad people?” [COMPLETED]

Messy by @bnhascribbles (oneshot, fluff) Your kisses aren’t that sloppy.[COMPLETED]

Sweet by @leychin (oneshot, fluff) Its just ice cream. [COMPLETED]

Hand Held by tinybunboy (oneshot, fluff) Shigaraki needs some gloves so he goes to his favourite tailor. [COMPLETED]

Fits Like a Glove by tinybunboy (oneshot, fluff) Shigaraki needs a new suit since the LoV is getting higher in the ranks. Kurogiri suggests you. [COMPLETED]

Burden by KitsuneMariko(oneshot, fluff) All Tomura wants is to have a relationship as normal as the ones in video games. Why can't he just have that? [COMPLETED]

Darling Won't you by sanchoyo(oneshot, fluff) During down time with Tomura, he lets you take care of his hair.[COMPLETED]

Ready Player 2 [[Original]] by MoontheCreator(enemies to friends to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort) xXDecay_GodXx is just as villainous in the gaming world as he is in the real one, but somehow he's acquired a best gamer bud™ named RaticalRex404, who knows him better than anybody else. Except for the small fact that he's Shigaraki Tomura. [COMPLETED]

Your Body Is My Melatonin by Babetacular (oneshot, fluff)After you drunkenly stumble into the wrong room to sleep, a suspicious pattern emerges that causes you to question your relationship with your boss. [COMPLETED]

Pinkies First by PetuniaWinters(oneshot, fluff) Tenko gets lost when shopping with his father, and you’re there to help! Whether he wants it or not. [COMPLETED]

A Boy in Need of TLC by LolliPopKiki(oneshot, fluff) You finally manage to get chapstick/lotion on Shigaraki after he got into a scrap. You underestimate how intimate the situation gets. Eep. [COMPLETED]

Tomura Shigaraki X Reader: Love At First Sight by BelladonnaBear (oneshot, fluff)The title speaks for itself. Tomura falls in love with you at first sight and wants you. [COMPLETED]

Caught in the Cold Rain by oREDACTEDo (oneshot, fluff) Tomura was having a bad day--he always had a bad day. A freezing cold night out in the rain numbed his anger but left him empty. Good thing a stranger like you was willing to share your umbrella. [COMPLETED]

Limitations by KitsuneMariko(oneshot, fluff, jealousy) Tomura is bad with handling his jealousy. [COMPLETED]

Touch by orphan_account (soulmate au, fluff)In a world where touch reveals your soulmate, one boy's quirk prevents the most basic necessity of soulmates, further twisting his already tormented mind. [COMPLETED]

 Climats d'amour by sanchoyo - An AO3 series. [COMPLETED] 1.Warm Healer by sanchoyo A romance with the nation's most notorious leader of a crime organization? It's more likely than you think. 2.Starcrossed Losers by sanchoyo A one-shot, non-canon spin off of Warm Healer. You and Tomura find yourselves transported to a universe where he and the rest of the league of villains are heroes, and he deals with it poorly. 3.Hourglass by sanchoyo A requested one-shot prequel to the Official Sequel, where All For One seemingly finds the two of you. 4.Cold Love by sanchoyo Sequel to Warm Healer!

Pillow Fort by WingsFlamesAndThirium(oneshot, fluff) Some members of the League complain about their blankets going missing, so Shigaraki comes to confront you about it. [COMPLETED]

A Silent Confession by Chibitami (oneshot, fluff) __ has a crush on Tomura, but her Quirk prevents her from telling him. So, she finds another way to show her feelings. [COMPLETED]

Not so Bad by dearbraus (oneshot, fluff) Your boss gets sick and isn’t taking care of himself. [COMPLETED]

In Your Sleep by Marshmallow_Rainbow139(oneshot, fluff)Tomura think he killed you in your sleep. [COMPLETED]

it’s nice to have a friend by @inu-mxki (oneshot, college au, fluff) There wasn’t an exact moment in time that he could pinpoint when it began. It just kind of appeared one day, this warm, fluttering feeling, then it made a home in his chest and never left. [COMPLETED]

Safety by @kageyuji (oneshot, fluff) The League doesn’t care about the mission anymore; now, you’re their number one priority. [COMPLETED]

Online Love [Yandere Shigaraki x Reader] by ddarkerdreams (yandere) Shigaraki finally gets the chance to meet you after being your friend online for months, confirming his feelings of obsession. [COMPLETED]

something new by BonnyDoe (oneshot, fluff) You’ve been dying to show Tomura your Quirk, because you know it’ll better your relationship. [COMPLETED]

[reveriederayne]

𝐇𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐭

tomura shigaraki x reader; 2,931 words

A/N: this was a request I got last year, i'm not a huge expert in hurt/comfort because i have no idea how to do the comfort part, so here you go, a reader who does little to no comfort because i'm clueless as well.

CW: hrut/comfort; tomura not liking his kid; thoughts of suicide; le me know if I need to add anything else !

It was honestly shocking how things went on after the league became the Paranormal Liberation Front; nothing that you could have predicted could compare. For starters, Hawks wanting to join your cause was honestly a bit of a joke in your opinion, considering the fact that he wasn’t just some hero but the №2, but since Dabi, well, Tōya, let him in, you figured that it was fine until he tried to kill Twice, and you and Dabi had to step in, barely saving him from the clutches of death. Speaking of which, Dabi being a Todoroki was not something anyone had expected; it certainly explained why he kept this whole loner with a secret identity persona up for so long, even after all this time that you all had bonded and basically became each other’s family.

And the war, it was such a horrible experience that you still have nightmares about it. The only bonus was that those UA kids had the empathy to let you all go, helping you fake your death and escape to form new lives away from any sort of criminality. Izuku going as far as to personally check up on you and Tomura when you two went to the UK to keep a low profile. And once you were 100% positive that your new identities were bulletproof, you could check on the others. Toga had the opportunity to stay in Japan under the surveillance of Uraraka and… Bakugō for some reason; you guessed it was because he trusted his classmate and her judgement to back her up when needed without any questions. Both of them vouched for her rehabilitation, given the circumstances that she was still a minor and that she wasn’t given the proper support when she was a kid. Twice was staying somewhere in the US with Spinner and Mr. Compress; the last time you spoke with them, they were in LA, where everyone was too preoccupied with themselves to notice Japanese criminals. Tōya had also stayed in Japan, reconciling with his family and happily watching Endeavour undergo a trial for all the abuse that he put his family through. He could even sometimes visit the two of you, going to the UK and using vacation as an excuse, with no one questioning it because Shōto would go alongside him.

And now you and Tomura, or Tenko as he was now calling himself, were living happily as a little family with a 5-year-old son that had no idea about your highly criminal past, only the made-up story about how you were immigrants from Japan that didn’t like how many heroes there were back at home, which honestly was kind of truthful considering you did not like the amount of heroes in Japan, just not for the reasons he would assume. Haruki (元稀) developed his father’s quirk, which at the beginning freaked out Tenko, considering how that turned out for him in his childhood. At first, he was even a little negative about it; he didn’t like seeing him; he only saw himself, saw how he would kill the two of you, how he would destroy everything that he had worked so hard for; it tore him from the inside.

“Tenko?”

He was sitting on the rails of the balcony of your shared flat when you had called him, letting his feet hang in the air. He remembered the first few times how he thought about jumping down, thinking about how this was all useless, that in the end this whole fake life wouldn’t work in the end, and he would have to be dead in the end after all, so at least it would be by his own ways and decision. Thankfully, he never had the guts to commit the act, not when you would be the one to see him like this, not when you would be the one shedding tears and blaming yourself for his decisions before eventually following suit.

He turned around, his ruby eyes looking back at yours. You liked seeing his natural eyes, recalling his true identity every time you two were home or in some secluded area when you could take off your disguises. It felt weird looking at that same face you loved for the past twelve years with different eyes and hair every time the two of you went out, so you were thankful for every single moment he wasn’t wearing his usual disguise around you.

You sat beside him on the railing of the balcony, leaning against his side as you looked into the distance, admiring the city view. The sky was grey, as always. At first you found it strange compared to the usual blue skies of Japan, with the rain accompanying it being ever so consistent, sometimes paired with the lightning and thunder that made Tenko jump out of his seat the first few weeks, even though he would be too proud and deny it every time you brought it up.

“You’re thinking about Haruki again.”

Silence, as always. Ever since your kid discovered his quirk, Tenko ignored everything that concerned your child. You didn’t like it, but you understood his concerns. The trauma that he went through in his childhood, much less the rest of his life, was painful enough, so you could understand how it affected his perception of your kid, the worry that he had concerning his future, especially since you two agreed that you would tell him the truth when he was old enough to not freak out on the two of you and not blabber about your real identities to his friends or teachers.

“I would have much preferred if he had your quirk, or even none for that matter…”

This was also something that he started saying frequently after your son got his quirk. You frankly didn’t know what else to do other than sigh and take his hand in yours for some sort of comfort, either for you or for him, you didn’t bother thinking about it much. You didn’t know what kind of support to give him in this situation; you didn’t even know if he would go past this phase of hating his own son. You hoped so, but given how he was acting around him, you started to suspect that it was just wishful thinking. The wounds of the war were still fresh in his mind, and having his son being a constant reminder of what he was capable of, of the things that could possibly happen, he could not just ignore the warnings that his brain was sending him.

You never had this kind of family problem that turned you into a villain like the other members of the league, or just other villains in general; nor you never even had a “villainous” quirk that you were bullied for by the cruel members of society. Your parents were just working with Giran, making weapons for his associates and keeping a low profile so that they wouldn’t have problems with the law. And you just had to meet up with the infamous leader of the League of Villains while giving new equipment to Toga, and he just had to make you join after seeing how useful your quirk would be for him.

And that’s why you decided to call Izuku. Of all the people that you could call to help you out in this situation, it was him. Tenko got really close with him after he helped you flee the country, and he understood how certain quirks could change a person’s life, given the fact that he was born quirkless, as he had explained to you two as he started visiting and checking up on you two after the war. You also called Tōya to visit so that your husband wouldn’t get suspicious about your intentions and because the two of you really needed to catch up after the last time he visited.

They both of them arrived like a week after you had called them, quickly making time to visit given the urgency of the situation, as you had explained over the phone. When you went to see who knocked on your door, the moment you saw the spiky white hair out of your peephole, you opened the door and jumped out to hug him, almost making the younger boy fall in the process.

“Damn, I hope you hug your husband like that as well; I don’t want him to be jealous.” He teased, grinning down at you as he returned your hug.

“We made a kid together; I think I made it clear who I prefer between the two of you.”

As you greeted the two of them, Tenko just made his way out of the bedroom; the only difference between his usual dead expression and this one was the smile that he gave Izuku and Tōya as he saw them at the entrance. He walked towards the three of you, hands in his pockets as he greeted them.

“You seriously need to stop flirting with my wife you tosser.” he said, walking towards the three of you slowly.

You grinned at their banter, finally letting your Izuku come in whilst Tōya was too busy playing with your kid to even enter into the leaving room. When you turned to look behind you, you saw Izuku already talking to your husband, a sign that soon enough there were some feelings to be shared, and you didn’t want to interrupt, so you ushered Tōya outside, leaving your kid in the house. You decided that it would be best to catch up with your old friend and let Tenko be open with you when he was ready, so for the time being you and Dabi went on the roof.

You two sat at the edge of the building, gazing upon the civilians that walked through the streets, rain violently hitting their umbrellas or their hoods. You and Tōya also had an umbrella to protect you, though at this point you were used to being soaking wet from the numerous times you got your umbrella stolen back home or not properly checking the weather when going out. You both stayed silent like this until Dabi finally spoke up:

“I guess if you called, it must have gotten pretty serious.” He turned to look at you; the muscles of his face didn’t move an inch, but you could read his eyes, full of worry not only for you but Tenko as well.

“H—he ignores Haruki completely.” You started, already feeling tears coming up, no matter how much you tried not to cry in front of him. “I know how he feels; I understand him, his feelings, but I… I don’t know how to help; I don’t know how to talk to him about it. I—”

You couldn’t hold it in anymore; you started sobbing, hiding your face in your hands as you tried to stop. Tōya hugged you, comforting you as best as he could while wishing that everything would turn out for the better. He trusted Izuku on the matter, and while it was obvious that one conversation wouldn’t change Tenko’s whole attitude towards the subject, he would try to be better, and he would try to make it easy for you, to help you understand what you needed to do to support him.

Inside your flat, Izuku was playing with the kid as he talked to Tenko about his issues, even though it was difficult for him to open up at first. It’s not like he hated the kid; of course not, he would never hate him; he was his flesh and blood, his only family besides you. But his quirk, was something that he couldn’t just accept. He knew how it would affect him, how it would affect other’s view towards him, and perhaps he would end up a villain, because what else can people become when they are pushed over the edge ?

“I don’t hate him, you know… It’s just his quirk; you know how it will affect him in the future. How people will perceive him. It will be the same story"

“I get that, believe me. I know how people will treat him. But that’s exactly why you shouldn’t let it affect you; he will need your support and your guidance. Now more than ever.”

They talked more about the issue until you and Tōya came back. You and your husband bid them goodbye before settling in your living room, with you nuzzling into the crook of his neck as he mindlessly traced patterns on your back. You sat in silence, afraid to talk, or more precisely, start the talk. And you guessed that it was the same for Tenko. But you had to do it eventually, and he cared enough to take the first step.

“I’m scared. I know it’s unreasonable, but I am.” He looked down at you, waiting for any kind of answer, just something to tell him that you didn’t blame him for his feelings.

“I… I don’t know how to help. I don’t do emotional stuff.” It could have sounded harsh, but judging by the softness of your voice, how he could hear it break just a little bit, he knew that you weren’t dismissing him. He chuckled a little, wrapping his arm around you just a bit tighter than necessary for comfort. “Me neither. But we’ll manage, won’t we ?”

You looked up at him, a weak smile on your face at your husband’s positivity. And the first time since Haruki’s quirk awakening, you became confident that everything would turn out as you hoped: you, Tenko, and Haruki living as a happy little family with no problems in your way, just joy and bittersweet memories.

“We will.”

It was five years later that you decided to tell Haruki about your pasts and secret identities, and for a ten-year-old child, he took the news very well. Maybe it was because he was still young and the two of you were generally open with your son about a bunch of other stuff. Either way, the two of you were glad that it turned out this way. But he quickly decided that he absolutely needed to meet your old friends from the League, which was mostly easy with Tōya and Toga, not so much with Twice, Spinner, and Mr. Compress, who never stayed in the same place for too long. At this point you were pretty sure that they went everywhere besides the African continent, not that they weren’t planning to hide there as well at some point in the future.

So here you were, sitting on the sofa of a large living room in Bakugo’s house where everyone from the League and some of his friends gathered to catch up. Toga was particularly eager to meet your kid, commenting on how he looked so much like you yet had the same personality as his father’s, which she described as a tragedy. Tōya was also very quick to declare himself as his only fake uncle, claiming that he was the closest to you and Tenko, while Twice complained about it and kept bugging Tenko to confirm that they were besties.

Overall, you were happy. You had the perfect life, the perfect friends, the perfect kid, and the best husband that you could wish for, who was currently sitting down next to you after Twice finally let him go and went to annoy Spinner instead.

“How is it that I’m younger than him yet he’s the one tiring me out?” He mumbled, throwing one hand over his face in exhaustion, which made you giggle.

“That’s what happens when you have a kid.”

He turned towards you, a fond smile on his face as he leaned to press his lips against yours. You remembered how dry it felt the first time you kissed him and comparing it to how soft his lips felt now, as if it had only been yesterday. A lot of things felt like they only had happened yesterday, and yet at the same they felt so distant due to the striking contrast. But you cherished those memories, they weren’t all positive, far from that, but it’s your dark past that had helped you built such a promising future, not just for you, but for the future as well, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

“And I wouldn’t want it any other way.” It was like he read your thoughts, as he pressed his lips against yours one more, smiling against you and you did the same. You two felt lost in the moment, everyone around you completely disappearing as you savoured your moment of intimacy, until you both heard Dabi let out a comical scream. Sure enough, it was Toga teaching your kid how to throw knives, and what better victim than his supposed fake fun uncle ?

“Should we stop her ?” your husband asked, not even pulling an inch away from you.

“Nah, let them bond. Plus it’s payback for how many times Dabi flirted with me.” That made him turn to look at you, a questioning glare on his face that made you laugh.

“Before we were a thing, he’s not that kind of arsehole” you explained, already sensing his annoyance from just the look that he was giving you.

“He better not be. Or I’m gonna have to re-enter my villain era” he said before kissing you again, a little more roughly. Damn it you knew how to get on his nerves, and damn it did he enjoy it.

© reveriederayne; every work posted on this blog is my own. I do not give anyone permission to copy, translate, or repost my works anywhere under any circumstance.

[zuffer-weird-girl]

How they react to you having a crush on a fictional character

Yes, I'm back with my shenigans

Surpringly chill about it.

Doesn't see the issue since... well. The character doesn't exist.

So he is cool, no chances of you cheating.

He discovered the character you simp about is HEAVILY similar to him and his personality.

Oh he teased the shit out of you.

But is actually relieved since... well, your type apparently is him so once again he is cool with it.

But always groans in disappointment when he finds you buying/stealing shit about the character.

"Is the third one only this week doll."

"But look at the details of this action figure babyyy" You whined while pointing at it.

"You have a whole ass room with merchandise..." he deadpanned.

I'm sorry but he can relate.

Shig here has at least sipped for a character of one of his game at least once or twice on his life.

So he doesn't judge you at all... but might get self conscious.

Like, the character you love doesn't have that much scars like him nor scratchs himself enough to bleed like a dog with fleas.... so yeah, insecurity and anxiety is a bitch but it does get him.

He accidentally let that clear when he mumbles one time, basically trash talking about the character in front of you, the audacity, but soon you discover the poor man is just insecure about you liking someone rather than him due to his looks.

Just reassure him that he is fine and you love him and he will be all good.

But again, he trash talks about your character a lot. Just simply because he wants to and says he didn't like him.

Judges abilities judge looks, judges everything.

He even judges why the hell you like the character.

I know is hard but try to not kill him when he does that ok?

Ok. This one is a massive headache

Not only he doesn't see the point of being so obsessed with a FICTIONAL character but this asshole also is jealous, him believing it or not.

Constantly makes acid comments about this obsession of yours is quite... stupid.

Hit him on the freacking head for that.

But also he gets that extremely jealous and annoyed look whenever you so much speaks of the poor character or watching something that it appears.

He doesn't quite know why it bothers him either? He just... gets irritated by it.

Although this "rivalry" against your favorite character, nf likes to spoil you a lot, so he actually pays something of said character *grimace face on all the time* and gives it to you like he had done the most dangerous and terrible challenge of his whole damn life

Man is a drama King.

[koy6na]

boy next door pt. 2

tags: 

you couldn't believe it. tenko shimura perusing around town with some new girl. shocking. he'd been ignoring your texts and calls all week and on friday you had spotted him having dinner with her. not that you cared or anything but seeing him laughing and flirting with her made your blood boil a little hotter than you liked to admit. it didn’t matter though, you had your fair share of flings but a part of you wanted to forget what you’d seen. it was embarassing. pacing your room, cancelling plans all over him. what did he have that the guys in your phone didn’t? he was a loser. he barely said a word to you at school, even after you had so graciously asked him to carry your stuff home. he glared at you but of course, obliged. 

still, you were baffled at this defiant behavior. you were his first, you even let him do it raw. what more could he need? tenko shimura was a selfish bastard who despite his quiet, geeky behavior, only wanted sex. it frustrated you how dehumanizing it was to get treated like this by him. you could call a past hookup. or meet someone new. but would they do it like him? desperate and animalistic, but still needy enough to be cute? you weren’t sure. but the second he appeared at your door, tattered hoodie and dark jeans, you knew they wouldn’t compare.

“are you just letting yourself into anyone’s home now?” you scowled as you set your phone down. “your mom let me in on her way out. pachinko. again. seems she’s got a bit of an addiction.” he said robotically. you scoffed. “sure.” he settled on the edge of your bed. he smelled like cigarettes and fresh rain. “you pick up smoking?” your chin rested on your knees as you focused on his twiddling hands. he looked up swiftly, his expression remained quiet but his body language spoke louder, almost excitedly. “no. it’s this new chick i’ve been hanging out with. real chainsmoker.” he said, leaning back, hands folding over his stomach. you tried real hard not to scoff but the task seemed impossible. “so she’s just been rubbing her scent all over you like a fucking dog? that’s real cute.” you sneered with more poison than you intended. you didn’t want to waste all that toxicity on him. “i’ve just been at her house a lot lately, the smell just kinda sticks.” his voice was cool but thick, like the cigarettes imprinted into his clothes. “been rolling around in her sheets? hope you had fun.” as you reel back in you feel embarrassed about how angry you’re getting. he quickly shifts his body, facing you.

“are you jealous?” he said leaning over to your side of the bed. “she’s a friend.” you rolled your eyes at him. his slim fingers slid under the hem of your shirt, tracing imaginary patterns on your skin. “i’m not stupid i saw you guys kissing.” you said with a scowl. he sighs in annoyance. “so? aren’t we friends too? i mean look at us now.” his hand left your shirt, the cool material failed to match his presence on your skin. nimble fingers brushed hair from your face, fingertips resting on your flushed cheeks. he leaned in, narrowing his eyes and tightening the grip on your face. you closed your eyes in gentle anticipation of his lips on yours, but they never came. when you opened your eyes you could see a smirk plastered on his face, eyes still narrowed and focused on your lips. you inched closer in desperate need of a kiss but found his quiet, taunting laughs pushing you away.

“what are you doing?” he asked nonchalantly. you frowned and pulled away, facing your back to him. “oh. oh i get it now. you thought i was gonna kiss you.” he laughed again, coldly and tapped you on the shoulder. “don’t look so down, i was under the impression you wanted nothing to do with me.” tenko firmly pulled your shoulder to get you to face him. you couldn’t. the burning humiliation festering in your chest kept you from turning to him. you should’ve seen this coming as another one of his games to get under your skin. “don’t tell me you’re mad at me.” he crooned and snaked an arm around your waist, pressing his lips to the nape of your neck. this time, you shoved him off. it was almost violent the way you did, as if you were trying to shake off something other than his arms. something deeper. 

“what the fuck? what is this? one second you hate me, the next you’re trying to kiss me, and now you’re fucking mad again.” you shut your eyes in annoyance but softened when you heard him shuffle against your sheets. you expected him to get up and leave but when he pinned your arms, straddling your waist, you were caught off guard. “what the fuck are you doing?” your reddening cheeks were glowing in the dark of your room. “what the fuck are you doing? if you want my attention you’re going to have to try harder than that.” he sneered. your heaving chests were parallel to each other as he leaned down to face you. he was overwhelming in every way possible. the scent of soap and sweat and something else that was just so him lingered in the air. it filled your head and make you weak to his advances.

“well? what are you gonna do, huh?” he released your hands and sat back, still straddling your waist. you were at a loss. “i-i don’t know.” you stuttered making him laugh breathily. “you don’t know. well let me help you.” you were nervous in anticipating what his plan was for you but when his fingers slid under your shirt, tugging the hem slightly up, you knew. you let him slip off your shirt, your bare chest coming into view. his hands immediately flew up to cup them. his cold palms sent shivers through your body. “fuck. look at you. i bet you’re thinking about last time when i fucked these.” he scoffed to himself. you were recognizing a pattern where every time tenko got you naked he was a completely different person. he leaned down to lick your nipple making you gasp. he began kissing down your stomach when suddenly he stopped. “you know, you’re actually supposed to be helping me out.” 

you rolled your eyes and reached for his belt buckle. you undid his jeans as you flipped yourself around. you could feel how hard he was under his boxers and the familiar sensation of veins sliding beneath your hand. your fingers slid slowly up and down his shaft. an ache for more hid beneath his stifled moans. “faster.” he demanded, bucking his hips into your fist. you leaned down to kitten lick the pearl of precum collecting on the tip. his eyes follow you as you bob and gag on his pulsing cock. you can tell he likes it when you’re uncomfortable. it pleasures him when your eyes are narrow and spiteful and the kisses you leave on his shaft are nothing but obligations. it makes you sick the way you let yourself moan when he cums. it’s everywhere and it’s filthy the way it lolls on your tongue, trickling down your chin. he glides his fingers into your cum covered face and lets you lick them clean. you keep eye contact with him as you climb on top of him.

there’s a motorcycle revving somewhere on the street. the sound of music playing from someone’s radio wafts in through your half opened window. you should be out with a nice guy having dinner or walking hand in hand at the park. there’s a whole world of nice guys with nice cars and nice shirts out there who don’t play chaste games with your emotions. but you know there’s also plenty of nice girls who match perfectly with guys like that, and you’re not a nice girl. you love the way he talks to you like a stranger and the way he fucks you like he hates you. tenko’s not a bad guy, but he’s definitely not a good guy. in retrospect the two of you are more similar than you’d like to imagine. you hate most people and treat the ones you love like shit. you’ll do anything to get away from responsibility but you’ll do everything for your freedom and though you live in two different worlds, the parallels couldn’t be more identical.

his dick is soft and sleek under your sopping cunt. your hips match your breathy moans and your eyelids lower instinctively. you can’t help but moan when your clit comes in contact with his shaft. he’s hard again within seconds. “well this is new. you being on top?” he rests his head on the headboard of your bed. “you should be grateful, asshole.” you say, slightly out of breath. when you finally sink yourself onto his cock, the stretch engulfs your nerves. the torrid girth feels hot and tenacious as you glide up and down. your moans become in tune with each other, the chorus of breaths and gasps balance the already thick smell of sex in your room. 

his hips twitch when the rim of your cunt clenches around his tip. the ache in your knees only makes you more sensitive to him. “is this enough to get your attention?” your voice shakes with exhausted pleasure. his forehead glistens with sweat as he clenches his eyes closed. “shut the fuck up.” he sputters out. he’s been trying not to cum since you first slid onto his cock. you lean forward to face him, your faces are inches apart. he expects you to kiss him but you really just wanted to get a close up of his expression when you milk him. you mouth gapes open, your voice is frozen in pleasure. you plant your hands on his chest to steady yourself as your rhythm picks up. his eyes roll back into his head as he stifles out a plea. “slow down.” you scowl at him in defiance but don’t say a word. your rhythm continues. “fuck. im cumming. get the fuck off.” his hands push at your pulsing thighs but he’s weak in the moment. “seriously get off. i’m gonna cream you, right now, if you don’t.” your moans have only gotten more intense as the anticipation of his hot cum spurting into you grows wildly in your mind. 

“do it. i know you’re afraid to. please just fucking do it.” you manage to spit out your final lash at him through your exasperated panting. his hands have a white knuckle grip on your thighs as you watch him lose what little self control he had. he cums with a loud groan, hips thrashing and thrusting into your sopping pussy. you crash down on him sending that white hot cum deeper. he’s still rutting desperately into you as you remain clenching and twitching around him. you both were never really into quick endings. when you muster the strength to lift yourself off of his softening dick you watch the webs of cum and arousal stretch and dissipate off your skin. you lean back when you feel a glob of cum dribble down onto his crotch. his forearm is draped across his eyes as his chest heaves. “did you really need my attention that bad?” he asks, wearied. “i thought you’d like it.” you replied, faster than you’d expected. his arm lowers as his piercing red eyes lock onto yours. 

“maybe you’re right.”

this is so ass i’m sorry jajajajaj