Dabi - NSFW Alphabet
Hi hi hi hiiii!!
CONGRATS ON YOUR MILESTONE BABY!!!! I AM SO PROUD (and not a lil jelly at all) THAT MY BABY IS DOING SO GOOOOD!!!
Soooooo!
I voted for the NSFW alphabet :3
Aaaand I would like to see Alphabets for Shiggy and Dabi :3 cuz those are icons of your blog :3
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MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART II ⊹ Doumadono's 6k followers event
Dabi - NSFW Alphabet
A - Aftercare Dabi isn’t the poster boy for aftercare. He doesn’t shower you with sweet words or fuss over you. He’s the type to light a cigarette, pull you against his sturdy chest, and let the silence speak for itself. If you need more, like cleaning up or emotional reassurance, you’ll have to nudge him — he’ll grumble at first and do it eventually — because, despite himself, he does care.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
B - Body Part On you, he’s obsessed with your thighs. Whether he’s gripping them, biting them, or marking them up, he loves how they tremble under his touch. Dabi doesn’t have a part of himself he particularly likes. In his eyes, he’s nothing more than a disgusting wreck, convinced that others find him more repulsive than appealing.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
C - Cum Dabi has a sinful fondness for cumming on your titties or face, reveling in the sight of his seed painting your skin — it’s a vision that never fails to drive him wild. Still, he doesn’t mind giving you a nice creampie.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
D - Dirty Secret Dabi has often fantasized about sneaking into Endeavor’s agency and fucking you senseless on his desk, leaving every trace of your wild escapade behind as a blatant mark of defiance. Perhaps Dabi would even leave a note for the so-called hero, detailing just how pathetic he truly was and reminding him that the past never dies. The thought of that bastard walking in to see the mess fills Dabi with a twisted satisfaction that’s almost too good to resist.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
E - Experience Despite his laid-back demeanor, Dabi is far from inexperienced. He’s had his share of hookups and spent more nights with cheap whores than he cares to count, gaining an undeniable expertise along the way. Dabi knows what he’s doing and relishes in making you feel like no one’s ever touched you like this before.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
F - Favorite Position Dabi has a clear favorite: doggy style. It gives him the perfect excuse to run his hands over your ass, deliver sharp, teasing spanks, and watch the way your flesh bounces under his control. What he loves most about this position is the freedom it gives him to bend you to his will, shaping every moment exactly how he likes it the most.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
G - Goofy Dabi’s humor is sharp and teasing, even in the bedroom. He’ll smirk against your skin or let out a dry laugh when you get flustered, his tone low and taunting as he murmurs, “And now daddy’s gonna open your sweet hole up with his fingers. Don’t make a sound or I’ll have to use my quirk on ya, doll.”
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
H - Hair His pubic hair is naturally snow-white, a detail that first struck you as odd the very first time you were having sex. It lingered in the back of your mind, a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit — until his true identity was revealed, and everything clicked into place. Dabi makes sure his snow-white happy trail is neatly trimmed.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
I - Intimacy Dabi is nothing short of rough and relentless in bed. He doesn’t waste time with drawn-out games or teasing: he’s all about raw, unrestrained sex. His goal is simple: to fuck you so hard that the next day, every step you take serves as a vivid reminder of his cock abusing your cunny.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
J - Jack Off Dabi is rough with himself when he does masturbate — gripping his shaft tightly, his fingers squeezing his balls with almost punishing intensity. But the truth is, he rarely gives in to the urge, preferring to wait until he can have you in his hands instead. That self-control, however, crumbles the moment you send him a dirty picture. The instant his eyes land on it, his cock stiffens, leaving him no choice but to free himself from his jeans and take care of the ache you’ve so effortlessly ignited.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
K - Kink Dabi is into rough play — biting, spanking, asphyxiation, and leaving marks all over your body. He loves when you call him daddy. On rare occasions, Dabi craves the shift in power, letting himself be tied and dominated, though these moments are super rare.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
L - Location Dabi is always ready and willing, no matter the time or place.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
M - Motivation Your body's a masterpiece that drives Dabi to madness. He loves watching the way your curves move — whether it’s through the haze of steam as you shower or the subtle shifts as you change clothes. And, of course, there are moments when he can’t resist being loud about how incredible you feel around him, if only to irritate the other League members and remind everyone exactly who you belong to.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
N - No Dabi may be reckless, but he has his limits. He won’t entertain anything that genuinely scares or harms you. Emotional vulnerability is his hardest boundary — he keeps those doors locked tight, unwilling to let anyone too far inside.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
O - Oral Giving? Dabi loves it. There’s something about being in control and watching you lose yourself that drives him wild, not to mention the sweet taste of your juices spilling all over his stitched tongue. Receiving a head? He’ll lean back with a cocky smirk, maybe will even light a cigarette, letting out low groans and praising you when you push him over the edge, deep-throating him while fondling his balls.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
P - Pace Fast and rough. Dabi’s always driven by his own needs and desires. He’ll fuck you hard and deep, his tip kissing your cervix with every thrust he delivers, his focus sharp on chasing his release, leaving you completely breathless.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Q - Quickie Quickies are practically a specialty of his. Dabi loves the urgency and rawness of them, especially when it’s a spur-of-the-moment decision. The thrill of pulling you aside and leaving you nothing but a breathless mess in minutes is a rush he can’t resist.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
R - Risk Risk is his second name. Dabi thrives on the thrill of danger, whether it’s getting caught or pushing boundaries just enough to keep things exciting.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
S - Stamina Dabi can go for as long as it takes to leave you both thoroughly spent. His endurance is impressive, fueled by pure desire to leave you completely ruined. He’ll tease the shit out of you if you tap out first.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
T - Toys He’s intrigued by toys, especially when he gets to use them on you himself. Dabi sees them as tools to enhance your sex life and isn’t shy about introducing them to you, though he prefers to keep his hands as the main event. Still, on some occasions, he’ll give you a new vibrator (the one with functions your previous toys didn’t have.)
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
U - Unfair Dabi is a relentless tease, enjoying how far he can push you before you break.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
V - Volume He’s not shy about letting you hear how much he’s enjoying himself. Dabi’s voice is low and gravelly, laced with growls and groans, and he isn’t afraid to let everyone around know how good you make him feel.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
W - Wild Card Dabi will never admit it, but there’s a flicker of hesitation when it comes to undressing in front of you. His body is undeniably well-sculpted, but the scars that mar his skin leave him feeling vulnerable in ways he’d rather not confront. He hides that uncertainty behind his usual smirk and poker face.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
X - X-Ray Dabi’s cock is long and thick, with a natural uncut shaft that makes every inch of him a study in raw, rugged appeal. His balls are heavy and perfectly round. His cock is uncut, and the pink tip peeks through beautifully when his foreskin is drawn back. The prominent vein running along the underside of his shaft is impossible to miss when you stroke his dick. When he’s fully erect, the sheer girth makes it a challenge to wrap your hand completely around him.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Y - Yearning His sex drive is very high. He’ll gladly get laid whenever he can.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Z - Zzz Dabi is quick to crash. There’s something grounding about your presence that helps him rest easier, though he’d never admit it out loud.
Shigaraki - NSFW Alphabet
A - Aftercare Shigaraki isn’t naturally inclined toward aftercare — it’s not something he’s used to. Early on, he might awkwardly sit beside you, scratching at his neck and asking if you’re good in his raspy tone. But as your bond deepens, he starts to soften in his own way. He’ll run a hand through your hair or wordlessly fetch you water, learning to stick around even when his instincts tell him to flee emotional vulnerability.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
B - Body Part On you, it’s your mouth. He’s fixated on the way your lips move — when you speak, moan, or cry out his name. There’s something about how your mouth can be soft and sinful all at once that drives him mad. On himself, he’s oddly fixated on his hands. Though scarred and destructive, they’re precise, and he knows exactly how to use them to elicit every shiver and gasp from you.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
C - Cum Shigaraki isn’t concerned about keeping things tidy — he’s all about the raw, messy sex. He loves seeing you marked by him, whether it’s his cum on your heated skin or buried deep inside your abused pussy, slowly leaking out of your hole. There’s an almost feral satisfaction in watching you wear his essence.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
D - Dirty Secret Tomura fantasizes about control — not just in the physical sense but complete surrender. He dreams of you tied up, blindfolded, entirely at his mercy, begging him for more.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
E - Experience He’s not as experienced as you might think. Tomura’s past was too tumultuous for casual hookups, and his focus on wiping hero society out didn’t leave room for much else. What he lacks in practice, he makes up for in intensity. He learns fast, and his obsessive nature ensures he knows every little thing that makes you tick.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
F - Favorite Position Shigaraki likes positions where he’s in control and can see your face at the same time. You’re such a pretty, little thing after all. Pinning you beneath him, watching every flicker of pleasure cross your features as you fall apart while his cock is buried in your wet pussy in missionary, is his favorite way to relax.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
G - Goofy Tomura isn’t intentionally funny in bed, but his dry wit and blunt remarks sometimes sneak through. If you’re flustered, he might smirk and mutter something like, “Oh, my little playmate can’t handle me fucking her tight pussy? What a shame, thought you’re more resilient!” The amusement is fleeting, though — his focus always snaps back to fucking you senseless.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
H - Hair Neatly groomed down there. Tomura doesn’t really care about this stuff but despite his general indifference toward cleanliness, he makes an effort to ensure he doesn’t completely neglect himself.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
I - Intimacy Shigaraki is raw and unrefined, but deeply genuine. He doesn’t know how to say the right things, but he lets you see the sides of him no one else does. The way his hands linger on your skin, the quiet groans in your ear, the almost desperate way he clings to you — it all speaks to how much he craves the connection he rarely allows himself.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
J - Jack Off Shigaraki’s fantasies are vivid and uninhibited, fueled by the memory of your voice, the feel of your skin, and the way you look when you fall apart beneath him. Tomura loves to give himself a lot of attention. If needed, he’ll play with his cock for a while, teasing the tip at the beginning and jerking the length viciously at the end, all while thinking about you giving him head.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
K - Kink Shigaraki is drawn to domination and control, so BDSM has always interested him a lot. He’s also a super dirty talker, so expect a lot of humiliation.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
L - Location He’s not picky about location — anywhere he can fuck you is fair game. The hideout, a rooftop, even a cramped storage room — it’s all fair game. The more chaotic and spur-of-the-moment, the better.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
M - Motivation The slightest view or thought of your soft flesh sticking out of your clothes can easily drive Shiggy crazy. He’s also driven by your boldness: seeing you challenge or tease him makes his blood boil in the best way, and he’ll waste no time putting you back in your place.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
N - No Anything that could hurt you is strictly off-limits. Everyone knows Shigaraki is ruthless, even sadistic, but when it comes to you, he’d never cause you harm. He’s fiercely protective, determined to keep you in perfect shape — both mentally and physically — because you’re his, and nothing else matters more.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
O - Oral He’s feral while eating your pussy out, reveling in the way you react to him; the way your thighs shaking against his head while he flicks the tip of his long tongue against your clitoris or entrance drives him wild. The surge of power Shigaraki feels when you’re on your knees, lips wrapped around the reddened tip of his dick while you’re giving him head, is purely intoxicating — he thrives on the way it feeds his ego, the control he wields in that moment.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
P - Pace His pace varies depending on his mood. He can be rough and frantic, pouring all his pent-up frustrations into the moment, or slow and smooth, savoring every whimper and gasp he draws from you.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Q - Quickie He simply hates them. He loves to take his time with his beloved plaything.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
R - Risk Shigaraki is no stranger to risk, and he loves the adrenaline it brings. The idea of getting caught adds a dangerous edge to your sex life that leaves him buzzing.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
S - Stamina Tomura’s restless nature gives him impressive stamina. He can go for hours if he’s in the mood.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
T - Toys Shigaraki doesn’t put stock in fancy sex toys. He’s confident — perhaps arrogantly so — in his own abilities, firmly believing that only he can give you the kind of pleasure you truly crave. No matter how much you plead or try to convince him, he’ll never allow toys in bed — your pleasure is something he insists on claiming entirely for himself.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
U - Unfair Shigaraki is a merciless tease. When you’re out together, you can be sure you’ll be teased by him. His hands will inevitably find their way beneath your skirt or dress. He’ll lean in close, his breath hot against your ear, fanning the side of your neck as he murmurs filthy promises about how badly he wants to stretch your sweet, juicy cunt open with his fingers and cock, making you blush on the spot.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
V - Volume Shigaraki is usually a man of grunts and low growls, but when the heat of the moment consumes him, he can get surprisingly loud.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
W - Wild Card Tomura’s spontaneity keeps you on your toes. One moment, he’s brooding and distant, the next, he’s pinning you against a wall with a low growl, whispering the filthiest shit into your ear. His unpredictability is intoxicating.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
X - X-Ray Shigaraki is slightly above average in size, with a shaft that leans more toward thickness than length. His dick is cut — AFO arranged it when Tomura was just a boy, ensuring it would be easier to maintain hygiene as he grew older.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Y - Yearning Shigaraki’s sex drive is rather high, fueled by the constant stress and tension of leading the League. For him, there’s no better way to release the pressure and tension than losing himself completely in the raw, unrestrained sex.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Z - Zzz Sleep doesn’t come easily to him, even when he’s exhausted by sex. He’ll hold you close though, his hands ghosting over your skin as he tries to settle his restless mind. Your presence is the only thing that soothes him enough to lull him into a rare, dreamless sleep.
@pixelcafe-network
More Posts from Flamme-shigaraki-spithoe and Others
Reblog to kiss sun and moon fnaf !!
I have a request!!
Shiggy wins reader the giant plushie she wanted from the claw game of the arcade (he says it’s all rigged but she begs him to help her because he seems like the type to be good at these games “hey, what’s that supposed to mean?!”) and she watches his slender fingers skillfully move the controls and he wins the derpy giant plushie for her in one try.
But then she can’t stop thinking about how those fingers would feel inside of her, and wants to reward him…he’s probably the type to be into knee socks and plaid mini skirts…and she did want to thank him for the plushie…she’s going to rock this virgin’s world.
(Go wild with NSFW plz we’re all a bunch of perverts)
A/N: is it too tmi if i say i did what happened in this fic irl
Warnings: nsfw!! hand kink..finger suckling, face fucking, dangerous sex..
"So close...!" you groaned as you saw the plush fall out of the claw machine again, whining against the glass you pressed against the glass with your fingers clawing at it, sliding down before you rested against the controller. "Why even bother? all these claw machines are rigged y'know." he'd speak up, sipping on his drink while he watched you bent over the machine and crying about some ugly plushie. he was confused and thought you were stupid. as per usual.
"you don't get it! I need this thing and i need it now!" you whined like an immature brat as you stared at it, it was a derpy off brand hatsune miku plush, and it made you want to cry with frustration, with only a few coins left. you turned to him as he scoffed, his irritation only growing. "your blowing all your money on something we could get online for cheap." he stated while he looked around, you knew you looked ridiculous, you knew that you could just buy it but the experience, memories and the challenge is what makes it such a memorable piece to remember. that's why you wanted it so bad, plus, it was hatsune miku, who wouldn't want a hatsune miku plush? but he couldn't lie he found it a little funny. "besides, i could win that easy peasy, there's a bunch of tips i got from online." your eyes lit up upon hearing that, of course Tomura of all people knew how to beat a game meant for kids.
with the clack of your shoe against the floor, you gripped onto him by his shoulders with a pleading pout. "please Tomura please! i-I'll do anything i swear! I'll give you anything you want or a reward for getting me that plush!" you pointed at the derpy miku as he tried to hide the blush on his cheeks, anything he wants? a reward? life couldn't be any damn sweeter for him, and he gets to finally show off cool stuff he's saved from the internet. he pulls out his phone and looks for the tutorial video again before he places coins against the slot and the game music started beeping again.
he moved his fingers delicately, trying not to decay the machine as he fiddled with the joystick almost randomly as he rapidly tapped on the button, the way he handled the machine and the way his slender fingers moved against it made you bite your lip a little as you watched him, a dork in his natural environment. you could see his focused reflection in the glass of the machine as you snapped a quiet pic, god he's adorable. you watched him fail before he angrily put in more coins, rocking the machine a little as he handled it more roughly, mumbling curses while he tried for that miku plush again, the way he was so quick and rough made you stare a little longer than intended before you heard the victory music and the plush gently fall into the slot. a wide smile appearing on your face, he couldn't lie, it found it rather..cute.
"YES! yes! Thank you so much Tomura! i love it so much you don't even—" he stopped you with a cocky grin. he looked so nerdy doing this. "yeah, whatever. what's my reward?" you pause to think over it before you just smiled at him and locked arms. "a hug." was what you said but what really wanted to leave your lips was alot more than just a 'hug.' you could feel your underwear stick to your panties as you let out a small huff, smiling softly at him, poor boy doesn't know what's coming. he kept walking as he truly thought his reward for showing off his awesome hand-eye-coordination was just a hug. "I'll get Kurogiri to warp us home, he isn't home right now so i guess you can hangout awhile longer."
perfect.
when you arrived and stepped out of the purple fog, at the dingy bar, there was no one keeping it and it was empty as always, Tomura led you to his messy room as he plopped down on the bed and watched you cuddle the derpy miku plush. "why do you even like it so much?" he questioned while he ran his fingers against his neck while eyed you up and down with a curious look. "it's ugly, but cute, ugly cute y'know?" you giggled softly before putting it aside and crawling closer to him. "You still waiting on that reward?" you whispered as you wrapped your fingers around his wrist and brought his open hand to your breast. he immediately got the message and nodded his head reaching for his gloves before you stopped him. "no, not yet."
"what the hell do you mean 'not yet'? are you suicidal or something?" he looked at you as if you were stupid before you only giggled and brough his hands together, dropping his right one before you pressed the tips of his left fingers against your lips. "Maybe, not really thinking with my head here." you whispered before you parted your lips and licked them, watching him shiver before you began to slide his middle and pointer finger in and letting your tongue play against them. you let out a few soft moans as he watched you with eyes blown wide. his cock aching painfully against his jeans as he let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. "wh-what the hell are you doing..? i-..you know that-" He was cut off by the sound of you pulling away with a small pant, letting the pade of his fingers rest against the flat and soft surface of your tongue. "can't I appreciate these pretty hands in peace?" you chuckled. "You can't appreciate them if i dust you.."
"but you won't, right pretty boy?" is what you whispered before you slid his fingers back into your mouth, sucking on them like you would with a cock as you even pulled them barely all the way out before you swirled your tongue against the tips before sliding it all the way back in, letting drool leak down your throat as you maintained eye contact with him. he tried to reach down and undo his buttons, grabbing his dick and pulling it out as he jacked off to the sight of you doing that to him, letting out small moans and biting his dry lips while he stroked himself to the sight. "i-i fucking knew you were kinky but..this is new.." he tried to match his pace to your mouth as he felt like absolute heaven.
you pulled away just before he was about to cum, letting his fingers barely connect to your lips with a string of drool before you pulled him to stand up while you got on your knees. you saw him put on his gloves before he let his pants pool around his ankles as he shoved his needy cock into your throat. "G-gah! if this is– wh-what i get for winning...!" he groaned as he thrust into your mouth, grinding against you every now and then. "Fuck- take me to the arcade every weekend- please! let me win for you..!" he babbled as he thrust into your face, his cock sliding against your tongue as you tuned him out a long time ago and let him use you like a fleshlight. it didn't take long for him to shove himself as deep as he could down your throat before cumming, giving you no option to spit out or swallow, besides, who would be spitting him out? certainly not you. he panted as he twitched in your throat, watching you pant as he pulled away and let his saliva soaked dick rest on your face as it leaked remnants of his load onto your cheek.
"What do i get for buying you a cosplay?" he whispered as he looked down at you with a crooked smile, his cock pulsing on your face as you smiled back. this was going to be one..long and spoiled night for you. don't tell All For One why he blew his allowance on clothes that seemed so expensive, or Kurogiri for that matter.
—Ake 2024
Obsession [Shigaraki x Reader]
TW: Stalking, drugging, kidnapping, murder, Stockholm syndrome, Shigaraki being obsessive (hence the title).
Reader is gender neutral.
Originally published on Wattpad.
You hissed and screamed as the blue-haired villain snatched your wrist, forcibly dragging you out of his room. He threw you onto the floor with little effort, right in front of the entry/exit door.
"I'm done trying. I'm fucking done." He growled, "All these escape attempts, all these damn tears. If you won't love me, then go. Get out. I'll find someone better than you."
This was your chance. Your mind was sending panicked thoughts throughout your body, begging you to run, to shout for help and finally leave this hellhole. You knew that, if you just pissed him off enough, he'd give up. Once he saw you weren't going to come around...
Oh but that was the problem. You were coming around. You just refused to show it. You hid the Stockholm syndrome with a mask of bravery and hatred, refusing to comply with his demands when really, you just longed for his touch. You'd lay awake at night, trying to convince yourself that you despised him. But you just couldn't. You started to pity him. You started to empathize with him, and his morals.
You remembered those late night talks where he'd tell you about his past, rambling about how no one helped him while in his half-asleep state.
Goddammit.
You had waited so long, and now that you were finally being let go, you couldn't bear to leave your captor.
"Well?!" He snapped.
Sighing, you hugged your knees to your chest, "Great job, Shiggy. I think I have Stockholm syndrome."
The man tilted his head in confusion, "Stockholm syndro... What? What're you talking about?"
Tch. He really was delusional. Did he seriously think that this love was real? That you were just playing hard to get all this time? Jesus fucking christ.
"It means, um... You kinda start to... Feel good things about your captor, 'n shit..." You mumbled.
Shigaraki's eyes widened. Then he smiled. Then he yanked you back up from the floor, his arms encasing you in a warm, tight hug.
"Oh, baby! I knew it! I knew you'd fall for me! I just had to keep you here long enough. You were just playing hard to get, I knew I was right!" He rambled, accompanied with a manic laugh, "You're mine... Mine! No one else can have you! You belong to me, my player two. You're mine, mine, mine, all mine!"
So. How did this all happen? How did you meet such an ugly fate? Well.
It started off when Shigaraki was playing Minecraft, in a server created from a Discord server he joined. He'd been playing for quite some time. It was nice playing with other people every now and then. But then he met you.
You were a newbie in the server, seeing as you only had leather armor and wooden tools. You were nice, frequently talking to the other members in the chat. You complimented Shigaraki's skin, so, he gave you one of his iron tools.
Then you whipped out your netherite armor.
And he freaked out.
It was hilarious from your point of view, seeing Shigaraki's many keyboard smashes in the chat. You left the scene, and he chased after you, demanding you give him back his single iron sword.
He was chasing you for a good amount of time, until you eventually gave it back. But only if he gave you his Discord username. Odd... But he complied. Apparently you thought he was fun and wanted to play with him more often. Awh, that was sweet.
The two of you started talking. And talking. And talking... You soon became so close that you trusted Shigaraki enough to start sending him pictures of yourself. You were amazingly attractive. No, no, you were perfect. A cute little face, and a wonderful personality? Oh yes.
You noticed Shigaraki, or as you called him, Shiggy (that was his nickname, is if he'd tell you his real name) started texting you more often. Calling you more often. You didn't know it but he was getting attached. Obsessed, even. No one had ever shown him this amount of kindness, and he needed more. He needed your validation. The way you treated him as if he was an actual human, and not a villain, was seriously enough to get him addicted to you.
Any pictures you sent him? Automatically saved to his gallery. Audio messages? Downloaded. Face time calls? Recorded. You were like a drug that he couldn't get enough of.
The problem came when he attacked U.A. for the second time, taking Katsuki Bakugo hostage.
You'd messaged him, sympathizing with the school's loss. Unfortunately he took this personally, and wrote a long message to you about how the hero system was corrupt and Shigaraki was doing a good thing by destroying it. Of course he didn't outright tell you his identity, but it was enough to make you suspicious of him being a criminal, and you stopped talking to him.
Shigaraki was heartbroken. He couldn't go a day without talking to you. So you know what he did? He hacked into your account, and found your email. Then he hacked into your email, and found your address.
He was going to kidnap you. You'd be all his. He was sure that, with enough convincing, you'd realise that he was right about the heroes and you'd forgive him!
So right now, he was standing across the street from your house, waiting. Well, not for you. He was waiting for your boyfriend. Now he could just scoop you up and run away, leaving him to forget about you, but no... That wouldn't be satisfying at all! Shigaraki wanted to see him rot, wanted to see him decay.
He deserved it, anyway. Before the angry message, you vented to him about your boyfriend cheating on you, but you didn't have enough money to move out. And he sure as hell wasn't moving, he was the one who paid for the house.
The thought of someone cheating on such a beauty like you was enraging, Shigaraki tore away at his neck just thinking about it. So when your boyfriend finally arrived, well, he wasted no time.
Before he could even unlock the door, Shigaraki placed his hand on the man's shoulder, disintegrating him in an instant, staining the concrete with a mixture of blood and dust.
"You're much more tolerable this way," Shigaraki muttered as he stepped over the pile and touched your front door, walking inside the house once the door decayed.
He sat himself comfortably on the couch, waiting for your arrival.
So he waited, and waited, and oh my god how long were you going to take?! Shigaraki was not a patient man! He knew you had work, but, he didn't know when you finished! Urgh! This was so damn frustrating!
He was about to storm through the doorway and leave the house, until he saw someone's car pull up in the driveway. Oh, it was you.
Immediately, he sped back to the couch. The position made it so you wouldn't be able to see him upon entering.
Your screaming was heard, as Shigaraki remembered your boyfriend's decayed body. Oh, right, haha. You wouldn't be entering the house anytime soon, not when he'd clearly paid a visit to your house. So he went outside to see you hiding in your car, presumably trying to dial the authorities. Not today.
You screamed again as you saw Shigaraki jump onto the car and shove his hand against the windshield, disintegrating it as he reached inside to grab you. You tried to escape through the driver's door, but you fell right into his trap, as he got off the car and wrapped his arms around you from behind. He pricked your neck with a syringe, injecting you with some sort of drug.
And you passed out in a matter of seconds.
When you awoke, you were in a room unfamiliar to you. Both your ankles and wrists were tied to the bed, your legs sprawled out and putting you in a rather vulnerable position.
"Aha, you're awake." Said the man sitting in the corner, "Did the drug really knock you out the hard? I swear I put in a small dosage..."
A chill ran down your spine upon hearing his voice. You recognised that voice. But not from the news, no. You couldn't even find the strength to scream as the realisation hit, this villain was the man you'd been talking to on Discord. How could you have been so stupid? How did you not realise that the nickname "Shiggy" was just an abbreviation for "Shigaraki"?!
"Oh, please don't be afraid, D/U (Discord/Username). I won't hurt you... Well, unless you make me. Hehe." He crooned.
You swallowed nervously, "Wh- Why would you do this...? Why did you kidnap me?! Was it because I stopped texting you?!"
Shigaraki cackled, "Matter of fact, yeah! I love you, D/U. I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you! You acted so kind towards me, haha! Big mistake, because now," He walked over to plant a kiss on your cheek, "I get such a warm, fuzzy feeling in my chest when I see your messages. When you face time me. I'm in love with you, D/U~"
"I- I have a boyfriend! You know that!" You cried.
He cocked his head to the side playfully, "Not anymore! But he made you so sad, didn't he?~ Don't worry, I won't ever cheat on you. I'm loyal. Unlike him."
"What do you mean not anymore?! You didn't kill him, did you?!"
"Of course I killed him! Say... This whole time I've been calling you by your Discord user. What's your name, sweetheart? Go on, don't be shy."
You didn't want to answer. You'd always been careful about telling your real name to strangers online, but now that you were facing an infamous villain, you wanted to tell him even less.
But the sharp glare he gave you was enough to convince you otherwise.
You took in another anxious gulp of air, "L- L/n... Y/n L/n..." (Your/name Last/name)
His smile came back to his face, "Oh wow, it suits you perfectly!"
This was all... a lot to take in. You had just gotten back from work, and now suddenly you were tied to a criminal's bed. You'd been chatting to the Tomura Shigaraki all this time? Oh god. Part of you wanted to believe this was all a dream.
"S- So, you... really did kill my boyfriend...?" You asked.
Shigaraki giggled, "Yeah."
A few tears leaked from your eyes, you were somewhat glad he was gone. You despised yourself for thinking this way, but, at least you didn't have to deal with his constant affairs anymore.
"Aww, baby, don't cry. I'm sorry. Kidnapping you was kind of the only option left... Heh. You want me to untie you?"
You nodded, and Shigaraki disintegrated the ropes holding you down.
"Will I ever–"
"No." Shigaraki interrupted cheerily, knowing what you were about to ask. You'd never see your family again, which caused a few more tears to drip down your cheeks.
"Now I won't hesitate to tie you up again if you misbehave. Oh that reminds me, we have some rules to go over... Better put your listening ears on." Shigaraki said, sitting very closely beside you. "Because you're gonna be here for a long time."
It was a whole mix of emotions right now. Everything seemed to be moving so fast. You'd have to listen and see what Shigaraki's rules were before you could make up your mind about whether you felt safe, or vulnerable.
Author's Note: 1930 words and I still feel like I rushed this ._.
the new postmodern age (chapter one) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic
Written for @threadbaresweater's follower milestone event, and the prompt 'a day at the beach'! Congratulations on the milestone, and thanks for giving me a chance to write this fic.
dividers by @enchanthings
Before the war, you were nothing but a common criminal, but in the world that's arisen from the ashes, you got a second chance. Five years after the final battle between the heroes and the League of Villains, you run a coffee shop in a quiet seaside town, and you're devoted to keeping your customers happy. Even customers like Shimura Tenko, who needs a second chance even more than you did -- and who's harboring a secret that could upend everything you've tried to build. Will you let the past drag both of you down? Or will you find a way, against all odds, to a new beginning? (cross-posted to Ao3)
Chapters: 1 2
Chapter 1
You believe in second chances.
Before the war, you were living on the margins, just like the rest of even the pettiest criminals were. No one would hire someone with a record, even if the record was for something nonviolent, and that meant that you were always hungry, always freezing in the winter and getting heatstroke in the summer, always one step away from doing something worse and getting put away for good. You were going nowhere fast, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get back on your feet. It was a struggle to get up in the morning.
But after the war, something changed. Not a lot, but enough, because after a heartfelt public plea from the hero who saved the day, the world decided to care a little bit about people like you. The government passed new anti-discrimination laws, including one banning hiring discrimination against people with criminal records, and for nonviolent criminals like you, they opened up an extra opportunity – a choice between job training or a startup loan for a small business, so you could pay down your fines and restitution while adding something good to society. Sure, it was all in the name of preventing new villains from being created, but you’ll take it. You took it, picked up a loan, moved out of the city to a small town on the coast, and decided to open up a coffee shop.
You’re not really sure why you picked a coffee shop. Maybe because the town you moved to didn’t have one yet, or maybe because you used to hang out in them a lot when you had nowhere else to go. And the program you’re part of worked exactly like it was supposed to. You had to hire people to help you get the building you chose up to code, and that meant you met people in your new community. You showed those people that the criminals they hated were people, too. You’ve paid most of your fines and you’re able to break even anyway, and even though there’s a sign on the door telling everyone that you’re a convicted felon and you have to answer any questions you’re asked about it, you have customers.
Not just customers – regulars. People whose kids you’ve seen grow up, people who talk to you when they see you out and about. After five years of trying, you’ve finally carved out a place where you belong. So yeah, you believe in second chances. How could you not?
You stand back from your front window, admiring the latest addition. There’s the sign identifying your business as one sponsored by the Nonviolent Criminal Reintegration Act, but just above it, you’ve added a bigger sign: Free Internet Access. Osono, whose bakery makes the pastries you sell, studies it alongside you. “Free access? Shouldn’t it be access with purchase?”
“I thought about it a lot, but no.” You’re sort of lying. You thought about it for two seconds and that was it. “This is better.”
“It’ll attract riff-raff.”
That’s the kind of comment that used to really piss you off, but you know Osono. You know it’s just a blind spot, and you know how to respond. “Most things are online these days. Job applications, apartment listings, information on government assistance. When I was in trouble before, free internet access would have helped me a lot. And I usually bought something anyway, even if it was just a cup of coffee.”
“Not a pastry?” Osono nods at the trays stacked on her cart, and you remember that she’s waiting for you to open the door. Oops. You unlock it in a hurry and prop it open with a rock you pulled up from the beach. “Where were you getting food?”
“Wherever I could.” You were hungry a lot. And sick a lot, because sometimes you had to eat things that were expired. You don’t like to think about that very much. “I stole sometimes so I wouldn’t starve. I’ve paid it all back by now.”
“You know how to take responsibility,” Osono says. She slides back the door on your pastry case without asking and starts loading things in. “I wish more of them were like you.”
“Most of us are,” you say, as gently as you can manage. “We just need a fighting chance.”
Sometimes people forget that you’re a criminal, that you’ll carry your record around for the rest of your life. You can’t let them forget. Osono nods in the way that tells you she’s humoring you and lifts a tray of pastries you haven’t seen before out of the cart. “These are a new recipe I’m trying out. What do you think?”
“They’re pretty,” you say. “Is that chocolate in the filling?”
“And cinnamon. They aren’t vegan, but there aren’t any common allergens in them.” Osono passes you the recipe anyway, and you scribble down the ingredients on the back of the name card you’re making, just in case someone asks. “Tell me how they do, all right? If they sell decently I’ll add them to my rotation.”
“Will do.” You help her with the last few trays. “Thanks, Osono. Say hi to the kids and Naoki for me?”
“Will do.” Osono wheels the cart back out the door, then pauses to study the internet access sign. “Good luck with this.”
“Thanks.”
You wait until the delivery van pulls away before you start rearranging the pastries to your preferred setup. You add “new arrival” to the label for the new pastry, then touch the lettering to turn it a pleasant but eye-catching green before placing it front and center in the case. Then you set up your espresso machine, wake up the cash register, switch on the lights and take down the chairs from the tops of the tables – and only then do you switch on the other sign in your window. It’s seven am. Skyline Coffee and Tea is open for business.
It’s grey and cold, and the low tide is closer to noon today, which means you’re in for a busy morning as the people who walk the beach daily stop in for food and coffee first. Only one person orders one of the new pastries, but almost everyone comments on the free internet access. They say the same kind of thing Osono said, and you say the same thing you said to her if they hold still long enough for you to answer. You say it nicely. It’s an effort to say it nicely, sometimes, but it’s worth doing.
Past noon, things slow down a bit. You decide to speed-clean the espresso machine, and you’re so focused on your work that you don’t notice the customer. It’s possibly also the customer’s fault, since he’s peering at you from over the pickup counter instead of standing by the cash register, and when he barks the question at you, it startles you badly. “What’s the password?”
“On the WiFi?” You tuck your burned hand behind your back. “No password. Find a place to sit down and have at it.”
The customer looks disconcerted. Or at least you think he does – the lower half of his face is covered with a surgical mask, and given that he doesn’t have eyebrows, it’s hard to read his expression. “Why?”
“Why isn’t there a password?” You haven’t gotten that question yet. “I want people to be able to use it if they need it.”
“They’re gonna watch porn.”
“Me putting a password on the WiFi wouldn’t stop that,” you say. “And I’m not the internet police. If somebody starts acting up, I’ll deal with it. If not – just use headphones.”
The customer’s expression twists. “I didn’t mean me.”
“Sure.” You’re not a moron. “It’s not my business what you do. Unless your business starts messing with my business. Seriously. Knock yourself out.”
The customer turns away, and you spend a second being extremely grateful that you went for single-occupancy bathrooms instead of multiple-stall bathrooms before you go back to cleaning the espresso machine. Your hand hurts, but it’s nothing running it under cold water won’t fix later. When you straighten up, there’s someone at the counter.
It’s porn guy, who you really shouldn’t call porn guy. Innocent until proven guilty and all that. You dry your hands and hurry over. “What can I get for you today?”
“Black coffee.”
“Sure. Anything else?”
The customer glances at the pastry case and shakes his head. Then his stomach growls. He knows you heard it. What little of his face is visible above the mask turns red. “No.”
“Tell you what,” you say. “I’ve got these new pastries the bakery wants me to try out, but next to nobody’s tried one yet. If you agree to tell me how it was, you can have it half off.”
“I have money.” The customer shoves a credit card across the counter to you, and you see that he’s wearing fingerless gloves. Or sort of fingerless gloves. They’re missing the first three fingers on each hand. “I don’t need help.”
“No, but you’re helping me out.” You add the pastry to his order and discount it by half, then fish it out of the case with a pair of tongs. “For here or to go?”
“Here.” The customer watches as you set it on a plate. “What is that?”
“It’s babka.”
“I can read. What is it?”
“I don’t really know,” you admit. Maybe that’s why people aren’t buying them. “The filling’s chocolate and cinnamon, though. It’s hard to go wrong with that. It’ll be just a second with the coffee.”
You fill a cup, then point out the cream and sugar. Then you realize you still haven’t tapped the customer’s card. You finish ringing up the order and glance at the cardholder’s name. Shimura Tenko. He hasn’t been in before today. You’re not the best with faces, but you never forget a name.
Shimura Tenko sets up shop at the booth in the farthest corner, and although you sneak by once or twice to check on him, you’re pretty sure he’s not watching porn. People don’t usually take notes when they’re watching porn. It looks like he’s working or something. Working remote, but he doesn’t have internet access at home? Or maybe he does, and he’s just looking for a change of scenery. That’s a normal thing to do. A change of scenery is one thing Skyline Coffee and Tea is equipped to provide.
Speaking of that, it’s been a while since you changed out the mural on the café’s back wall. Your quirk, Color, lets you change the color of any object you touch, and choose how long the color sets. You’ve used it for a lot of things over the years, but now you mainly use it to create new murals every few months or so. The back wall’s been a cityscape since the fall, when you saw a picture of Tokyo’s skyline at night and got inspired. Maybe this weekend you’ll switch it out for something a little softer. If people wanted the city, they’d stay there instead of coming here.
Customers come in and out, a few lingering for conversations or to test out the free WiFi, but Shimura Tenko stays put, somehow making a single cup of black coffee last until you give the fifteen-minute warning that you’re closing up shop. Another person might be pissed about someone hanging out so long without buying anything else, but you’ve been there. You let it go, except to ask him how the babka was as he’s on his way out the door. He throws the answer back over his shoulder without looking your way. “It was fine. Nothing special.”
Fine, sure. When you go back to clear his table, you find the plate it was on wiped clean. There’s not even a smear of the filling left.
“Check this place out!” Your probation officer leans across the counter, eyes bright, out of costume and way too enthusiastic for eight in the morning. “It’s looking great in here. You changed something. New color scheme? New uniform?”
“Nope.” You don’t get nervous for your check-ins, but you don’t like the fact that they’re random. Today’s not a good day. “There’s some new stuff on the menu, and in the pastry case. Maybe that’s it.”
“No,” Present Mic says, drawing out the word. He turns in a slow circle, then whips back around with a grin. “When did you repaint that wall?”
“I didn’t paint it,” you say. It’s best to be honest. “I used my quirk. I’m not making money off of it and it’s not hurting anyone, so it falls within the terms of my probation.”
“Take it easy there, listener. I’m not trying to bust you,” Present Mic says. Heroes always say that. You know better than to buy it. “It looks good. Really brightens the place up.”
“I thought it could use it,” you say. “It’s kind of a rough time of year.”
Cold weather always brings you lots of customers, but people are sharper, unhappier, and if they’re in the mood to take it out on someone, they pick somebody who can’t make a fuss or hit back. Somebody like you. You’ve learned not to take it personally. “Not too rough financially. You’ve made all your payments on time. I checked.” Present Mic is peering into the pastry case. “How’s that free internet access thing going for you?”
“Not so bad,” you say. “The connection’s pretty fast, so I get people in here who are taking online classes, or working remote. I’ve only had to kick one person out for watching porn.”
“Yeah, he filed a complaint,” Present Mic says, and your stomach drops. “You made the right call. Don’t worry.”
You’re going to worry. It’s going to take all day for that one to wear off. “I haven’t had problems with it otherwise.”
“Why’d you do it?” Present Mic gives you a curious look. “Free stuff brings all kinds of people out of the woodwork. Why give yourself the headache?”
“I want this to be the kind of place I needed,” you say. “Somewhere safe where nobody would kick me out if I couldn’t buy more than one cup of coffee, where I could use the internet without getting in trouble for it. A headache’s worth that to me.”
It’s quiet for a second, but Present Mic being Present Mic, it doesn’t last. “You really turned a corner, huh? Hard to believe you were ever on the wrong side of the law.”
“We all could be there,” you say. “It only takes one mistake.”
Present Mic sighs. “You’re telling me. Did you catch the news last week?”
“The thing with Todoroki Touya?” The surviving members of the League of Villains all went through their own rehab, and they’re on permanent probation – and last weekend, Todoroki Touya, formerly known as Dabi, lit somebody’s motorcycle on fire after they followed him for six blocks, harassing him the whole way. “I saw. Is he getting revoked?”
“Nope. The other guy was way out of line, and the panel ruled that the majority of people – former villains or not – would have reacted similarly under that kind of pressure.” Present Mic rolls his shoulders, and his leather jacket squeaks. “All I can say is, he’s lucky we’re in the business of second chances these days. Or fifth chances.”
“Why so many?” you ask. “The rest of us are on three strikes, you’re out.”
“Yeah, but you have to mess up a lot worse for it to count as a strike,” Present Mic points out. “If I had to guess, I’d say it’s a guilt thing. This whole rehab thing is Deku’s idea. And Deku never got over what happened with Shigaraki.”
Members of the League of Villains died leading up to the final battle, but of the five who made it that far, only one of them was dead at the end of the war – Shigaraki Tomura, their leader. To most people, it was good riddance to the greatest evil Japan has ever seen, but Deku’s always been publicly against that viewpoint. Insistent that All For One was the true villain. Regretful that the war ended with Shigaraki’s death, too. “Since he couldn’t save him, he’s stuck on saving the other four,” Present Mic continues. “Which equals infinite chances. So far Todoroki’s the only one who’s needed them.”
You nod. Present Mic stretches. “Let’s take a walk,” he decides. “I’ll buy coffee for both of us.”
“I can’t leave,” you say. “I don’t have anybody else to watch this place. If a customer comes by –”
“Half an hour, tops. Come on.” Present Mic produces a wallet from the inside of his leather jacket. “The sooner we leave, the sooner you can come back.”
You lock up, hating every second of it, and follow Present Mic into the cold, a to-go cup of your own coffee in your hands. Present Mic runs through the usual list of questions, the ones that cover your mindset as much as they cover your progress on your program requirements. Some of them are about how you’re getting along with the civilians in town, and you know he’ll be checking in with some of your customers, seeing if their perception lines up with yours. It feels invasive. Intrusive. Some part of you always pushes back. You always quiet it down. You made this bed for yourself, coming up on a decade ago. Now you have to lie in it.
“I’ve got some news,” Present Mic says, once he’s finished with the questions. “The program’s considering early release for some of the participants.”
“Why?”
“The legislative review’s coming up, and they want success stories,” Present Mic says. “You know, people who clawed their way out of the criminal underworld to become productive members of society. I’m putting your name on the list.”
You almost drop your coffee. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Mic says. He seems taken aback by your surprise. “I mean – you’re kind of who this thing was designed for, listener. You caught your first charge when you were underage, for a nonviolent crime, and the rest of your case is a perfect example of just one of the many problems Deku won’t shush about. Now look at you. You’ve got your own business, you’re paying back your debt to society, you’re participating in civilian life. There are civilians who don’t do that much.”
Of course they don’t. Actual civilians don’t have to prove they have a right to exist. “If you’re approved for early release, the government will waive interest on your startup loan, and I heard a rumor that they’re considering wiping charges off people’s records,” Mic continues. “It’s a pretty good deal, listener. And you’re making a pretty weird face.”
“Sorry,” you say, trying to fix it. “I mean – felonies are a forever thing. They don’t get wiped.”
“It’s just a rumor,” Mic says, and pats your shoulder. “Even if that doesn’t pan out, you could use a break on the interest. Anyway, it’s not a sure thing, but I put your name up. You’ve got as good a shot as anybody.”
You think that’s probably true, which is weird to think about. You’ve been behind the eight ball since you were in high school. Present Mic throws down the rest of his coffee, then turns back the way the two of you came. “Let’s go. I saw a pastry I wanted to buy, and I bet you have a customer or two.”
You’ve heard things about other program participants’ probation officers taking things without paying, but you got lucky with Present Mic – he always pays. Sometimes he even gives you a hard time for setting your prices too low. And he’s right about the customers. When you get back, one of your regulars is sitting cross-legged, leaning back against the locked door with his hood up and his laptop open.
It’s Shimura Tenko, who you never saw before you started offering free internet, and who’s turned into a regular ever since. The two of you don’t talk the way you do with some of your other regulars – something about the mask and the hood and the gloves tells you that Shimura isn’t looking to make friends. But he shows up two or three times a week, orders black coffee, and camps out in the corner of the café until closing time. Sometimes you can talk him into a pastry, and it’s always a babka. Whether he orders one or not, he’s always hungry when he comes in.
Shimura looks up as you and Present Mic approach. His eyes narrow, then widen abruptly, almost comically shocked. Then he slams his laptop shut, rockets to his feet, and books it, vanishing down the street and around the corner. You feel a surge of frustration. “Can you not scare my customers?”
“I’m out of costume. Even when I’m in, nobody’s scared of me.” Present Mic is lying. You’d have been scared out of your mind to run into him back in the day. “Damn, that guy was skittish. What’s his deal?”
“He’s one of my regulars.” Was one of your regulars, probably. People don’t react the way Shimura just did and come back for more. You unlock the door, feeling strangely dispirited. “Which pastry were you thinking about?”
Present Mic sticks around for an hour or so, long enough to talk to a few customers who don’t run away from him. Most of your regulars have seen him before. He leaves a little bit before noon, after eating three pastries he paid for, and as usual, the café quiets down in the afternoon. You don’t mind. Today wasn’t a good day even before Mic put in a surprise appearance and scared off a customer for good. Days like today, you’d rather have the place to yourself.
Sometimes in the midst of proving you’re a model citizen to anybody who looks your way, you forget that there’s a reason you weren’t. It wasn’t a good reason. Your family wasn’t rich, but you always had what you needed and some of what you wanted. Your parents weren’t perfect, but they loved you. You weren’t the most popular kid at school, but you always had someone to talk to. And none of that mattered, because you felt hollow and miserable and lonely no matter what else was going on around you.
Nothing you did or said could make you feel better. Everything felt the same, and everything felt awful, and no matter how hard you tried to explain, to ask for help, to raise the alarm, you couldn’t get your point across. You had a good life. What did you have to complain about?
The judge who handed you your first conviction said pretty much exactly that. You’ve heard that the sentencing guidelines for minors have changed, that untreated mental health issues are considered a mitigating factor these days, but back then it didn’t matter at all. You got help at some point. You take your meds like you’re supposed to, and you did therapy until you realized the people who monitor your probation were reading your notes. And you’re older now. You know the hollow feeling goes away. But that doesn’t mean it’s any easier to tolerate when it’s here.
You’re hanging out behind the counter, staring at your most recent mural and wishing you’d chosen something less cheerful than the field of wildflowers that’s currently decorating it, when the door opens. You barely have time to get your game face on before Shimura Tenko steps up to the counter. “Um –”
“How many heroes are you friends with?” Shimura asks shortly.
“I’m not friends with Present Mic,” you say. “That was a spot check. He’s my probation officer.”
Shimura blinks. He has crimson eyes and dark lashes, matching his dark hair. “Huh?”
“My probation officer,” you repeat. “I’m a convicted felon.”
“Don’t lie. They’d never let a convicted felon run a coffee shop.”
“I got a loan,” you say. “Through the Nonviolent Criminal Rehabilitation Act. It says so on the sign.”
“Your sign says free internet access.”
“Underneath that.” You wonder if it’s really possible that Shimura didn’t see the other sign. Maybe he was just too hyped at the prospect of free internet to look any harder. “How long have you lived here?”
“Five years.” Shimura looks defensive now. “What’s it to you?”
Five years, and you never saw him before today. He must keep to himself. “Nothing. I just – I thought everybody around here knew. I’m not very quiet about it. I’m not allowed to be.”
“Why not?”
You don’t want to do this right now, but rules are rules. “Part of the Reintegration Act involves educating civilians about where criminals come from – like, how a person goes from you to me.”
Shimura snorts. It’s rude, but not anywhere close to the rudest thing someone’s done to you when you talk about this. “The government thinks the people who are best equipped to educate about this are the actual criminals, so I’m legally obligated to answer any questions people ask me – about my record, about why I did it, about the program and why I’m doing that. So they understand what’s happening and why it’s happening. For transparency.”
“And that means anybody can question you, any time,” Shimura says, eyes narrowing.
“Yep. Stop, drop, and educate.” You wait, but he’s quiet, and you’re tired enough and hollow enough that the suspense gets to you first. “You can ask what I did. I have to tell you.”
Shimura nods – but then he doesn’t ask. About that, at least. “It’s dead in here. Did Present Mic clear everybody else out?”
“No. It gets quiet on sunny days when the tide’s low.” You nod through the window, and the sliver of beach visible between the buildings across the street. “I was thinking about closing early.”
“Why?” Shimura’s voice holds the faintest shadow of a sneer. “To walk on the beach?”
To lay facedown on your bed and wait for tears that won’t come, and won’t make you feel any better if they do. “Now you’re here, so I’m open. Do you want the usual?”
Shimura hesitates. Then he shakes his head. “Go home.”
“I’m open,” you repeat. You don’t want him to complain to Present Mic like the actual porn guy did. “Do you want the usual or do you feel like something new?”
“The usual.”
“Come on,” you say. He glares at you over his mask. There’s an old scar over his right eye. “There’s nobody here. Nobody’s going to catch you drinking something that actually tastes good.”
“The usual,” Shimura Tenko says, and crosses his arms over his chest. “And –”
He glances at the pastry case, and you see his expression shift into disappointment. It makes you sadder than it should, but you can fix it easily. You slide the babka you saved on the faint hope that he’d come back out of hiding and into full view. “One of these?”
Shimura stares at it for a full fifteen seconds before he looks up at you. “You saved it for me.”
“Yeah.” You pride yourself on knowing what your regulars like. You don’t want someone you see a few times a week to leave unsatisfied. “One babka and one black coffee, coming up.”
Shimura holds out his card, then hesitates. You’ve never seen him look uncertain at all. “And whatever you think tastes better than black coffee. One of those.”
“Really?” You can’t hide your surprise, or what an unexpected lift it is for your mood. “You won’t regret it. Which flavors do you like?”
“I don’t care.” Shimura waits while you swipe his card, then tucks it away. “This was your idea. I’m going – over there.”
He gestures at the back corner. “I know where you like to sit,” you say. “I’ll bring it out.”
As soon as he leaves, you get to work. You need to nail this. He’ll laugh at you if you bring him a tea latte, so it needs to have an espresso base. What goes well with babka? You already have chocolate and cinnamon on board – what about caramel, or hazelnut? Does he even like sweet things? He must, if he keeps ordering the damn babka. Maybe hazelnut, but what if he’s allergic? You pitch your voice to carry and see him startle. “Do you have any allergies?”
“Not to food.”
You wonder what he’s actually allergic to as you start pulling espresso shots for a chocolate hazelnut mocha. You really hope Shimura likes Nutella, because that’s exactly what this is going to taste like. Using bittersweet chocolate syrup instead of milk chocolate fixes it partway, but when you pour off a tiny bit to try it, it still tastes a lot like something you’d eat out of a jar with a spoon.
Whatever. You’re committed now. You don’t have a choice. You pour it into a cup, make some vague gesture at foam art, and carry it and the black coffee through the empty café to Shimura’s table. “One black coffee and one drink that actually tastes good.”
Shimura eyes the second cup. “What’s in there?”
“You said you didn’t care.”
“Yeah, well, now that I know you’ve done time I’m not sure I can trust you,” Shimura says, and you lock your expression down. That one hurt. A lot. He drags the cup towards himself with his right hand and lifts it to his mouth as he pulls down his mask with his left, but you’ve lost interest in the outcome. You turn and head back to the counter, trying not to feel like someone’s slapped you in the face and convincing yourself at least a little that it works.
You screw around behind the counter, taking inventory and counting down the minutes until last call, but Shimura’s back at the counter with forty-five minutes to go, an empty cup in his hand. It’s not the cup you put the black coffee in. “Fine. You win. I want another one of these.”
“Yep.” You set your clipboard aside and head back to the cash register to ring him up. “For here or to go?”
“Here.”
“I’m closing soon. To-go’s probably better.”
“Are you kicking me out?” Shimura asks. You look up at him, make eye contact, and whatever he sees in your face sets him off. Not in the way you thought it would. “Before, about the doing time thing. You know I was kidding, right?”
“Sure you were. Do you want a receipt?”
“Hey,” Shimura snaps. “It was a joke.”
“Not a good one.”
“Yeah, it was. If you –” Shimura breaks off, his scowl clear even from behind the mask. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I wouldn’t have said that if I didn’t get it.”
“Get it,” you repeat. “You’ve done time?”
“Yeah.” Shimura Tenko covers the back of his neck with one hand. “No charges, but – yeah, I did time. So it’s funny.”
“It’s still not funny.” You lift the empty cup out of Shimura’s hands and turn to start making a second Nutella-esque mocha, trying to decide if you feel better or not. “It’s just not mean.”
A shadow falls across you as you work. Shimura’s following you along the edge of the counter. “So am I getting kicked out or what?”
“Yes,” you say. “In forty-five minutes, when I close.”
Shimura’s eyes crinkle ever so slightly at the corners. You wonder what his smile looks like under that mask, but you’ve got espresso shots to pull, and you need to focus if you don’t want to burn your hand. You look away, and when you look back again, he’s at his table, laptop open, mask on, chin propped in his gloved hand. No charges, but he’s done time. You didn’t expect that. Even though you’ve spent the last five years of your life trying to prove that you’re no different than anybody else, it still catches you by surprise to learn that one of your customers is like you.
You bring the second drink by his table, then start working through your closing checklist. He stands up with five minutes to go, just like clockwork. He leaves without another word, as usual, but when you step outside, he’s still standing there. “You didn’t ask why.”
Why he did time? “Neither did you,” you say.
“Yeah, but I won’t break probation if I don’t answer.”
“It’s the principle of the thing,” you say. It’s not quite dark, but the sun’s almost down, and the shadows are growing long. Late March already, but it feels like you’ve got a long way to go before spring. “If I want people who meet me to look at the person I am now, I have to do the same thing for them.”
Shimura Tenko makes a sound, half-laughter and half-scoffing. “They sure did a number on you,” he says. You turn and walk away, and his footsteps follow yours. “Hey. Come on. There’s no way you’re that sensitive.”
“I’m not,” you say. “I’m just having a bad day.”
A bad day, and you never get a day off. Even if the café’s not open, you’re still in sunshine mode every second, making sure that the people who want to treat you like a criminal look absolutely insane for doing it. You fought hard for this life. You’re glad you fought for it. And today more than usual, you’re just really tired. “I’ll see you later, okay?”
“Yeah,” Shimura says. You’re glad he doesn’t try to apologize again. You know it would be painfully insincere. “How did you know?”
“Hmm?”
“The pastry. How did you know I’d come back?”
“I didn’t,” you say. “I just hoped you would.”
You don’t know why you hoped. Maybe because he’d clearly been waiting a while when you and Present Mic got back. Maybe because you remember how much it mattered to have somewhere else to go, whether you had a place of your own or not. Maybe because you’ve gotten sort of a sense of him over the past few months, and you know he’s the kind of person who pretends not to want the things he wants. Wanting the coffee shop he hangs out in to be open and to have his favorite pastry available is such a reasonable thing to want. You were hoping he’d come back so you could give it to him.
Shimura doesn’t say anything. You keep walking, and he doesn’t follow you. When you glance back over your shoulder as you round the corner, you see him standing just outside of Skyline Coffee and Tea, staring intently at something. You can’t say for sure. But you’re pretty sure it’s the sign that explains about the NCRA.
A while back, you read that some countries set aside two days to commemorate a war. One day to celebrate that it ended, another to mourn that it happened at all. When it comes to the war you lived through, Japan does things differently. There’s just one day, a national holiday, where every government office closes and most businesses do, too. For most people, it’s a day to celebrate. There are carnivals, street fairs, concerts, parties. It’s been a holiday for exactly four years and a whole host of traditions have already sprung up around it.
But there’s one person who never celebrates, and it didn’t take you long to come around to his way of thinking. On April 4th, the fifth annual Day of Peace, you close the café early and make the trek to Kamino Ward.
You’re not sure how Kamino Ward became the place. Maybe because the final battlefield’s been overtaken by celebrations, and at least some people still see Kamino as hallowed ground. The place where the Symbol of Peace made his last stand. The place where the Symbol of Fear passed the torch onto his successor. You get there a little while before sunset, and you join the hundreds of people who’ve already gathered there. The crowd looks smaller than it did last year, and it hasn’t grown much by the time Midoriya Izuku, known to the world as Deku, climbs onto the steps leading up to the All Might statue’s plinth.
Someone hands him a microphone, which he takes with hands that tremble ever so slightly. He’s only twenty-one, and he looks old before his time. “I’m here,” he starts, then swallows hard. “I’m here because we didn’t win. Not really. If you’re here instead of at a party somewhere, I think it’s probably because you lost something. Something, or someone, who was important to you. Something you can’t get back.”
It’s quiet. It’s always quiet after he says something like that. “I’d like to think we did something. That we changed for the better,” Deku continues, “but I think we can only say that if we don’t forget what we had to lose for it to happen. So, um – you know the drill. If you brought a candle, great. If you didn’t, we have some. You can say the thing you lost if you want – we have a microphone – but when you’re done, light the candle and put it down somewhere that feels right to you.”
He takes a deep breath, lets it go. “And then you can go. But I’ll stay until they all burn out.”
People swarmed the first two years. This year they form a line, stepping up to light their candles one by one. You never know what to say when it’s your turn, because it’s not something specific you miss. The way things used to be was awful. You don’t miss that, and you weren’t close enough to anybody to lose someone who mattered in the war. But April 4th has never felt like a happy day. It feels wrong to you to be setting off fireworks and throwing parties in response to a war that almost destroyed the world.
A lot of people say names when it’s their turn to light a candle. Some say places. Some share an ideal they lost, a hero they venerated who fell from their pedestal, a dream they had that will never come true. Each lost thing named is met with respectful silence. But just like last year and the year before, there are three names that aren’t, no matter who says them. “Big Sis Magne. Bubaigawara Jin,” says Toga Himiko as she lights her candle. Say Todoroki Touya and Sako Atsuhiro and Iguchi Shuichi, who still answers to Spinner, as they light theirs. “Shigaraki Tomura.”
There’s always whispering after their names, especially Shigaraki’s. But Deku always goes last, and Deku always shuts them up. He lights his candle and grasps the microphone, speaking clearly, firmly. “Shigaraki Tomura.”
You remember what Present Mic said, about how Deku never got over failing to save Shigaraki. Deku was sixteen when he won the war. Still a kid. Was saving Shigaraki really his job? Maybe that’s the point of all this. It was everyone’s job to stop villains like Shigaraki from being created, and you all failed, so it fell to Deku – and he failed, too. It’s one big, sad, ugly mess. When you’re honest with yourself, you’re not surprised that most people try to cover it up with fireworks.
People begin to filter out of the memorial park, and you find a place to sit down. It’s not like you have somewhere else to go. The others who say settle in as well, in small groups amidst the rows and clusters of candles. You’re within earshot of one of the groups. Without meaning to, you find yourself listening in.
“They’d have hated this,” Todoroki Touya is saying, his voice low and bitter. “Every second of it.”
“Big Sis Magne wouldn’t have. And Twice would have liked it,” Toga Himiko says. Her voice is soft. “All the candles. He’d say it’s like his birthday.”
“Yeah. Sure.” Todoroki Touya’s voice goes even quieter. “Do any of us know when his birthday was?”
It’s quiet. “Shigaraki would hate this,” Todoroki states. “You know he would. What did he tell you to tell Spinner, Deku?”
Deku doesn’t answer. Spinner does. “Shigaraki Tomura fought to destroy until the very end.”
“Yeah,” Todoroki says. “To destroy. And Deku made him a martyr.”
“He destroyed a lot of things,” Deku says quietly. “All For One is gone. One For All, too – there’s never going to be another Symbol of Peace. He destroyed the way we saw villains. We don’t just get to look at what they’re doing right now. We have to think about how they got there. And he destroyed how we saw ourselves.”
“Yeah?” Spinner says. “How?”
“We didn’t think we were responsible for other people,” Deku says. “Now we have to be.”
It’s quiet again. This time it’s quiet for a while. “Whatever,” Todoroki says. “I’m going home. See you all at the next sobfest.”
“He always says that,” Spinner says, once his footsteps have faded. “He’s gonna get tanked at home and text us just like he did last year.”
“I miss Tomura-kun,” Toga says, her voice softer than before. “I thought we’d all be together at the end.”
“I know,” Deku says. “I’m sorry.”
“And you’re sure –” Spinner breaks off. “You’re sure you couldn’t get his ashes or something? So we could –”
“There was nothing left of Shigaraki,” Deku says. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah,” Spinner says. Toga sniffles. “We know.”
The group splits, Toga in one direction, Spinner in the other. A moment later, Deku walks past you, and you do everything you can to fade into the background short of turning yourself camo-colored. It doesn’t work. “Did you hear all that?” Deku asks. You nod. He sighs, or sniffles, maybe. He looks younger up close. “You were here last year, right?”
“And the year before,” you say. The longer you look at him, the worse shape he’s in. “Um, are you okay?”
“It’s just –” Deku’s eyes well up, suddenly. “It’s hard. I can’t say what I want to say to them.”
“Why not?” you ask stupidly, and he shakes his head. “Um – do you want to sit down?”
You wouldn’t ask another hero that, but you feel like it’s worth the risk. Even though he’s twenty-one, you can’t look at him and see anything other than a kid, and it feels wrong to let a kid stand there and cry. Deku sits down next to you. “I know I’m not supposed to ask,” he starts, his voice watery, “but you never say anything when it’s your turn. Most people don’t come here. Even the ones who lost somebody would rather be at a party somewhere. Why do you come back?”
You have to think about it for a second. Deku cringes. “Sorry. You don’t have to answer.”
“I sort of do.” It might hit your probation requirements, and even if it doesn’t, you should explain anyway. “What you said earlier, in your speech – I’m one of the people the world got better for. My life would have been awful if it had stayed the same. But in order for me to have this life, we had to have the war.”
“What did you do during the war? Were you in a shelter?”
You shake your head. “The shelters banned people with criminal records,” you say. Deku’s eyes widen. “Nowhere would let me in.”
It wasn’t all that different from the way you were living before – not much food, not very safe. The only difference was a sharp increase in the number of abandoned buildings for you to crash in. But it looks like you’re making Deku feel worse, not better, and you scramble into part two of your explanation. “I’m one of the NCRA participants. That program only exists because of the war – and you, because you won’t let people forget why the war happened. So I want to remember why the war happened, too. And I want to honor it. Them.”
“Him,” Deku corrects, and your stomach clenches. “I wonder what he thinks of all of this. If it’s enough. If it’ll ever be enough. I mean, obviously it’ll never be enough for him, because he doesn’t – I mean, I can’t ask him, but I know he can see it. I don’t know where he is, but if I could just ask him –”
You didn’t realize Deku believed this strongly in the afterlife. You sit quietly, and after a few seconds, he remembers you’re there. He glances at you, embarrassed. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” you say. “Do you not get to talk about it very much?”
“No,” Deku admits. “People want to move on. And I don’t really blame them. But I can’t. Not until I know for sure.”
It’s quiet for a little bit. He wipes his eyes. You watch the candles flicker down a few millimeters more. “You’re in the NCRA,” Deku says finally. “For job training, or did you get a loan?”
“I got a loan,” you say. “I run a coffee shop now. With free WiFi.”
“Do people like it?”
“I think so,” you say. You think of the kids who come to study, the people who use the WiFi for remote work, the old people who walk the beach every morning and stop by for coffee and pastry afterwards. “I have regulars, anyway. And people talk to me now. They never used to.”
“People talk to me now, too,” Deku says. “It’s nice.”
“Yeah,” you agree. “It is.”
It is, but it’s not quite what you meant, and you don’t want to interrupt when Deku starts talking about the NCRA. It’s not just that people talk to you. They talked to you before, but now they see you – not as a criminal, but as a person like them, minus the squeaky-clean record. That’s new, and that’s good. You know even less about Shigaraki Tomura than Deku does, but even if he’d hate what’s happened to the world he wanted to destroy, you’re thankful anyway. The world is better now. It’s better because of Deku, and Deku’s the way he is because of Shigaraki.
There are fireworks going off over the bay, distant enough that you can’t hear the sound. Closer than that, you hear music and laughter from a street party you passed on your way here from the train station. Deku trails off after a while, and you don’t speak up again. The two of you sit in silence until the last of the candles burns away.
You get home late, and it’s an early morning opening up the café. Luckily for you, everybody else is also running late courtesy of the holiday yesterday. Osono comes by fifteen minutes off-schedule and full of apologies, and while you’ve got your doors open by seven, it’s not until seven-fifty-eight that your first customers come through the door. It’s a double shot of espresso kind of day, and while you’re pulling them, your customers tell you about the parties they went to last night. When they ask what you did, you tell them you went into the city. It’s not a lie.
After the slow start, the shop stays quieter than usual, quiet enough that when Shimura Tenko rolls up just past noon, there’s still plenty of babka left in the pastry case. You start his order before he’s even opened the door – one black coffee, one Nutella-flavored nightmare – and he stops to drop off his stuff at his usual table before he comes up to the counter. You can tell he’s disquieted by something. “Did Present Mic come by and scare everybody off again? How are you going to keep this place open if no one’s here?”
“Mornings are a lot busier than afternoons,” you say. “And spring’s my quietest season, anyway. No tourists like there are in the summer, and it’s not very cold.”
“Yeah.” Shimura glances around, still displeased. “This place had better stay open.”
“It will,” you say. “One shot of espresso or two?”
“Three.”
“Three? It’s your funeral,” you say, but you pull the extra shot. “Late night last night?”
“I went to a party,” Shimura says. You nod. “It was my birthday.”
“Happy birthday.” You cancel half his order. You give people a free drink on their birthday, if you know it and they come in. “Your birthday is April 4th? That’s a tough draw, especially the last few years.”
“You’re telling me.” Instead of retreating to his table like usual, Shimura hovers at the bar. “What about you? Did you go to a party?”
You shake your head. “I went into the city.”
“Which city?”
“Yokohama,” you admit. Shimura’s eyes narrow. “I go to the vigil at Kamino. I have every year they’ve done it.”
“Really,” Shimura says, skeptical. “Why?”
Deku asked you the same question. You have a feeling Shimura won’t like the answer, but it’s the only one you have. “My life is better than it was before the war, because of what happened in the war. I want to be thankful for that. It doesn’t feel right to me to go to a carnival.”
Shimura doesn’t say anything, just watches you. It makes you feel weird. “If I’d known it was your birthday, though, I’d have gone to a party for that. It was your birthday way before it was the Day of Peace.” You’re babbling, and Shimura still hasn’t said a word. “Not that you’d invite me to your birthday party or anything.”
“I didn’t know you’d want to go,” Shimura says slowly. The espresso machine beeps, and you focus on it way harder than you’d do under ordinary circumstances. “Look, I – it wasn’t my party. Just a party. It’s not like I went in a fucking birthday hat.”
“That would look pretty weird with your hood still up,” you say. Shimura makes an odd sound. You look up and see the corners of his eyes crinkling again. “Still, though. I’ll remember for next year. I’ll get a cupcake or something. Even if you don’t want somebody who’s done time at your birthday party.”
Shimura laughs at that. Actually laughs. Your chest constricts, filling with warmth in a way that feels out of proportion to the situation at hand. “I only want people who’ve done time at my birthday party,” he says. “Don’t try to give me that drink for free. You letting this place go under would be a shitty birthday present.”
“Too late. It’s already free and I’m not rerunning the sale.” You pour the black coffee and set it down on the pickup counter, followed by the godawful Nutella drink. “Happy birthday plus one.”
Shimura rolls his eyes, but they’re still crinkled slightly at the corners. He doesn’t respond until he’s already halfway back to the table, and he’s so quiet that you have to strain your ears to hear. “Thanks.”
You should say something. Something like “you’re welcome”, or “any time”. Something that sounds like good customer service, instead of what you’re worried will come out of your mouth if you open it right now. The conversation is over. Nothing else needs to be said. You turn to face your small workspace, searching for a distraction. There has to be something you can clean.
It’s been so long since you had a crush that you barely remember what it’s like, but you’re pretty sure you have a crush on Shimura. As far as crushes go, he’s kind of a weird pick – because he’s a customer, because he’s not the friendliest, because he hasn’t given any indication that he likes you at all. He likes babka and free internet and the horrible off-menu mocha you make just for him. That’s it.
It feels weird to have a crush. Weird in how normal of a thing it is to do, when you’ve been so focused on looking normal and pretending to be normal that you haven’t done anything actually normal in a while. But maybe this is a good thing, and maybe it’s okay. You might get released early from your NCRA requirements, and even if you don’t, you’re doing well. You can afford to like somebody again.
The café stays quiet, and with two hours left before closing time, you’re getting bored. Bored, and you haven’t switched out the mural since before your last check-in with Present Mic. Now’s an okay time for that. You scribble a sign to prop up on the counter – I’m here, just yell – and head towards the back wall. You have to pass Shimura to get there, and as you do, he looks up. “I’m not looking,” you say. “I’ll just be over here.”
“Doing what?”
“A new mural,” you say. “Pretend I’m not here.”
Shimura decides to start right away, and you flex your fingers more out of habit than anything else. Then you set your hand on the wall and activate your quirk, changing the entire wall from the wildflower mural back to the same blank neutral as the others. That’s a good start. Now you just need to figure out what you’re going to do with it.
Actual muralists sketch and line their work. They work from references and they draft the design before they actually start painting. You know that because you used to want to be a muralist yourself. You could sketch and line things, but these days you’re more about feelings than anything else, and feelings take color. You block the wall into a few sections – you remember to do that, at least – and fill in general colors, running your fingers along the edges to blur them together. Grey base and sides. Dark-colored middle. The entire upper half of the wall is light. It’s not until you’ve added the half-circle above the horizon that you get a real understanding of what you’re making.
It's another cityscape, or the ruins of one, something you saw in photos or maybe in person. It looks a lot like the sunrise view from Kamino Ward, the sky on fire with deep purple and orange and pink and gold, the reflection of those colors splashed across the sea, the wreckage of the city bathed in morning light. You’ve done enough therapy to psychoanalyze yourself, and it’s not hard to see what you were going for with this. Things are horrible. Things were horrible for a long time before today, but the sun is still rising, and the sunrise is still beautiful. And it’s a lot easier to see now, with all the other stuff out of the way.
“That’s not paint.”
You weren’t expecting Shimura to say anything, and you weren’t expecting him to pay attention to what you’re doing. But when you look back over your shoulder, you see him staring, his phone set aside, the lid of his laptop shut. “It’s not paint,” you say. “Just my quirk.”
“How does it work?” Shimura asks. You turn back to your mural, and you hear him get to his feet. A moment later he’s standing beside you, answering his own question. “You can change the color of things you touch. And decide how long it stays that way.”
“Yeah.” After using it your whole life, you’re pretty good at it. You can fine-tune stuff, enough to add shading to the buildings and the rubble at the sides and bottom of the mural without compromising the light from the sunrise. “Not a very powerful quirk.”
“You could still cause trouble,” Shimura says. You could. And you did. “This is how you got your charges, isn’t it? Stuff like this.”
“Graffiti? Yeah,” you say. You remember the rush you got the first time you tagged something, the first time you spilled your thoughts and feelings in a way no one could ignore. “Except when you do that, you get charged with trespassing and vandalism, and when they figure out they can’t remove it, you get charged with destruction of property. Throw in malicious unlicensed quirk usage and – boom. Felonies.”
“That’s stupid.”
“Me or them?”
“Giving somebody a felony for painting stuff on walls.” Shimura studies what you’ve done so far. “All of these have been yours, right? Is this the same stuff you were painting before?”
“Not always,” you say. This conversation falls under your NCRA obligations, but it doesn’t feel like it’s the reason Shimura’s asking – and it’s not the reason you’re telling him. “When I first got into it, it was just words or sentences. Stuff I couldn’t figure out how to say out loud. The first time I really got busted, it was for tagging the side of my parents’ house.”
“Your parents called the cops on you?”
“And pressed charges,” you say. He’s staring at you again. You pretend you don’t notice and fuss over the shoreline in the mural. “I got better at it when I was older. The art got better, anyway. But I got in more trouble because of where I put it. And I guess what was in it.”
“Anything I’d have seen?”
“I don’t know. Where did you hang around?” you ask. You got booked in most of the big cities in Japan during your criminal career. “Uh, I did the UA barrier. The one with the – you know.”
“The human shields?” Shimura bursts out laughing. “Did you have a sibling in Eraserhead’s class or something?”
“No, I just thought it was stupid to do the Sports Festival a week after what happened,” you say. Shimura snickers. “It felt like they were using the kids as props to distract from how much of a mistake they’d made, and I was mad about a lot of other stuff, too, and – yeah. I kind of went off.”
You really went off. There’s no other way to describe triggering the UA barrier on purpose at two am so you could make a crude mural of All Might, Endeavor, Hawks, and Best Jeanist hiding behind a bunch of kids in school uniforms. Shimura is still snickering. “Damn. I’m surprised they call you nonviolent with how bad you hurt their feelings.”
“They had to replace the whole barrier,” you say, and Shimura wheezes. “I’m not trying to be funny.”
“No, but it is funny.” Shimura glances at you over the edge of his mask. “And now you run a coffee shop and make things like this.”
He looks away from you, back to the mural. “Is this something real? It looks familiar,” he says. Before you can answer, his eyes widen, and he says it himself. “Kamino Ward. Why would you paint it like that?”
“It’s how I see it in my head. Or how I feel it. I don’t really know.” You reach out and use the tip of your index finger to highlight one of the buildings that’s still standing in sunrise gold. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know.” Shimura reaches out and touches it with one gloved hand. “People are going to be pissed at you.”
“If they recognize it.” You’re not too worried. “Most people just look at the colors.”
“I recognized it.”
“You’re not most people.”
You instantly wish you hadn’t said a word. Shimura Tenko glances at you quickly, then looks back to the mural. “Yeah,” he says. “I was there.”
Your stomach drops. “You were?” you repeat hopelessly, and he nods without looking your way. “I’m sorry. It’s – insensitive. I’ll take it down –”
“No.” Shimura catches your wrist before you can make contact with the mural. “Leave it. I was gone for this part. It’s a nice view. The horizon, I mean.”
That’s your favorite part, and you’re not even done with it yet. “I still have some stuff to add,” you say. Shimura nods but doesn’t let go of your wrist. You pull at it slightly. “I need this back.”
“Fuck. Sorry.” Shimura recoils like you’ve burned him, then backs away. Way too far away. You’d say he was making fun of you, except you can see his eyes over the mask, and they’re expressive in spite of his complete lack of eyebrows. “Sorry. I don’t usually – touch people.”
“It’s okay.” Your wrist feels tingly where his hand made contact, and there are butterflies in your stomach. He doesn’t usually touch people, but he touched you. “Thanks for stopping me.”
Shimura turns away completely. “I have to work.”
“Yeah. I didn’t mean to distract you.”
“I know.” Shimura slides back into his booth. You turn back to put the finishing touches on your mural.
He’s right about it. In the hour left before you close, at least one customer who trickles in gives you a hard time for putting up something so upsetting. You listen to his concerns, but you stick to your guns, and when he sits down to wait for his order, you see him watching it. Just like Shimura is, the screen of his laptop long since gone dark.
Shigaraki Tomura/Reader
hints of depression
dark content
I don't know how to make notes, yes sorry
in general there will be rape and bullying and very sad topics
not for persons under 18
I don't speak English, so I use a translator yeah sorry about that
Breathing heavily, you ran forward, sometimes looking back. Every time the silhouette from behind disappeared from view, you stopped and nervously looked around. Your strength was already leaving you, and each such action gave you a chance for a break. Fear enveloped my entire body. I wanted to cry and scream from resentment and injustice. Stumbling, you cursed the day when Dabi came over to “just chat about this and that,” and you still agreed. Who knew that this would end up causing such a reaction from the head of the League of Villains?
You first met him about six months ago. Sitting under an abandoned bridge in some forest, you looked at your feet. There was no longer any strength for any hysterics or banal tears. Everything was going wrong and I simply didn’t have enough strength.
Bend your knees and sigh. You were thinking about how to end your suffering. You are weak. Always been like this. And you understood this. All the people around you constantly told you this. You recalled out loud all the words that your loved ones said to you.
- I think they are right...
You winced. For a second it seemed to you that a homeless person or some kind of crazy person was standing in front of you, but having a better look at the person standing opposite, you realized that he was an ordinary guy, or rather, not quite ordinary: there was some kind of plastic hand on his face, he was dressed very simply, but it’s clear that it’s dirty—both the clothes and the guy himself looked shabby, but you can’t say he’s homeless.
- Who are you? — you asked him in a whisper.
The guy looked at you silently. It was difficult to notice, but the guy looked at you appraisingly.
“It’s a quirk,” the guy said briefly.
- What? - You are perplexed.
— What quirk? — The guy seems to have already started to boil.
- *your ability*
- Not bad... Very good... - the guy fell silent again, lost in his thoughts.
You didn't dare say a word.
— You want to die, right? — the guy suddenly asked.
— Something like that... It’s better this way than to suffer all your life and...
- So yes or no? I don't care what happened there.
- Yes..
- Wonderful. Since you still have no meaning to live, I will give you this meaning. If you work for me, I will need you.
— I guess I have no choice?..
- Well, I can help you end your miserable life, or give it meaning.
- Then I agree.
After that you started working for him. A little later, or rather in the not-so-distant future, you found out his name and Tomura’s approximate age. Working for Shigaraki turned out to be very difficult: for any offense or disobedience you were severely punished, so severely that sometimes there was no living space left on you. Shigaraki's favorite torture was hide and seek. The guy would choose some abandoned building and give you some time to hide. Most often it was 4 seconds, sometimes, when he was in a fairly high mood, he would give 5 seconds. When he found you, he gave you another 2 seconds to run away from him, and then it was more like catching up.
And now you were running away from him. And the situation that caused everything to happen is completely unimaginable. For the first time in a long time, you met with the entire League. Before this, you only knew Kurogiri. You were given special attention by Dabi, a strange guy who kept trying to “get close” to you. Understanding perfectly well what awaits you, if you let him get even a millimeter closer to you, you will get in trouble, you tried to stay away from him. Shigaraki never took his eyes off of you when Dabi was around. Giving up, you supported the conversation about medicine and later regretted it. Slamming his hands loudly on the table, Tomura came up to you and, taking you by the elbow, led you somewhere.
According to Shigaraki, today you had to pay for your behavior. It was not difficult to guess what awaited you.
It began to rain suddenly. And so, from accumulated emotions and fear, my legs began to tremble treacherously. You slipped and fell. It was painful, offensive, I wanted to scream and cry. You no longer had enough strength to do anything, but you stubbornly tried to get up. As a result, having accepted your inevitable fate, you turned over on your back and began to wait for the guy. A little time passed when he was already standing next to you. Taking your hand, Tomura forced you to stand, and when you were already standing on your own two feet, he pressed you against the wall. Cold, wet and dirty, you did not resist at all. Shigaraki did not stand on ceremony: he forcefully sat you on his knees, unzipped his fly, and began tapping his dick on your face. Already knowing what awaited you, you obediently opened your mouth, while closing your eyes. Tomura grinned.
- You're acting like a whore! So she just opened her filthy mouth to take my dick...
Shigaraki put his penis in your mouth and, moving his hand to your neck, squeezed with force, sticking out his little finger so as not to kill the girl ahead of time. You whimpered but shook your head in agreement.
- Come on, work your dirty mouth to please the one you are obliged to please! — Tomura pressed down on your head with force.
No matter how much experience you had, it was very difficult to take it. You began to move your head, swallowing the cock to satisfy Shigaraki. It was unbearably painful and disgusting. When you couldn’t bear it anymore, you started scratching him.
Slap in the face. Tomura grabbed you and pulled you to your feet. Pressed against the wall again, you tried to make as little noise as possible. At this time, Shigaraki had already torn his underwear and entered sharply. The pain was unbearable. Even more unpleasant than when he pounded into the throat. Shigaraki began to move quickly and jerkily. You wanted to scream from the pain spreading through your body, but you understood that this would only get worse.
- Hurt? You deserve this pain. You should feel everything that I felt when you chatted with this garbage. — Shigaraki grabbed your face and brought you closer to him. - Pathetic whore!
It's disgusting and offensive. You understood that you were really pathetic, but you couldn’t do anything about it, and even if you tried, you would make it worse, especially since you already tried and got it badly. There was only one thing that bothered you: everything he said. Is he... Jealous of you? He was jealous of you and Dabi. If he’s jealous, it means... He loves... A smile appeared on your face. Noticing that you were smiling, Tomura was taken aback.
- Why are you smiling?! You must feel disgusting and unpleasant! You must hate me!
“You’re in a lot of pain right now too...” you said barely audibly. - If the fact that it hurts me makes you feel better, then fine, I’ll endure it all...
- What?!
Tomura tossed you aside. Pulling on his clothes, he came up to you writhing on the ground and, sitting on top, grabbed you by the neck and began screaming.
- Why are you smiling?! Stop it! You must beg me for mercy! You should cry and scream, not smile! Stop it! — the guy stopped shouting and continued absolutely calmly. “I’ll wipe that stupid smile off your face forever!”
Tomura moved his hand towards your face. When the fingers were almost touching you, you whispered just two words
- Love you…
The last two words, and the body began to turn into ashes. Tomura watched with absolute incomprehension as your body turned to dust. When he realized what had happened, the guy began to shake his head to the sides and scream.
- No no no no no! You shouldn't have died like that! Why did you say that?! Do you want me to suffer even after your death?! I hate you! I hate it! I hate your stupid eyes! I hate your stupid hair! I hate your stupid smile! I hate you!
A sharp stream of wind lifted what once was you into the air, and the ashes scattered across the sky. Tomura rose to his feet and wanted to run after the ashes, but stopped. There is still something left of you on your hands. Raising his hands up, the guy let go of the ashes, which were immediately picked up by a stream of wind, and they scattered across the sky.
- I hate you! - Tomura whispered, smiling sadly.
Shigaraki turned around and went back. You'll have to explain where and why you disappeared... And you'll also have to look for new people for the League... Kurogiri will have more work... Toga will pester you with questions... And Dabi will make jokes and sarcastic remarks as usual...
And also loneliness...
He will be lonely again...
He's perfect
Guys...
Chat, is he beautiful or is he beautiful?
Gotta recreate the angle.
How would Shiggy go about being infatuated with a girl who’s shy and just as much of an inexperienced, asocial loser as he is? (Might his corruption kink motivate him to make the first move?) NSFW too plzzzzzzz
A/N: IM SORRY FOR THE IMAGE HAHA IM RUNNING OUT OF BW IMAGES TO USE FOR THIS BLOG (send me some plz send more tomura panels)
WARNINGS: nsfw under the cut
Now I'm sorry if like this isn't on par with the ask but he's also a loser so he'll try and reinact things he's seen from hentai, and you two will fail miserably.
he wants to take your virginity but he's a virgin himself and he's not sure how to initate it other than you push you somewhere and get you stuck (jk)
you two will be somewhat intimate? like you'll make the first move and try to hold his hand or lock arms, silly things like that.
it's cute watching a bunch of young adults act like preteens and their first relationship.
he finds himself more erect often when he's alone and also unable to jack off to his usual porn, but when he finds one where the actresses look like you or share something with you, he's hard as a rock.
he's not particularly shy, mostly he hates people. so you two would probably meet at a cafe or gamer cafe/gameshop or arcade.
he will try and make the first move, you two have probably been close by now and let it slip that you also watch porn or something because like losers, they kind of tend to ramble when someone's there to listen.
he'll try and put something together to sleep with you but god he's at a loss.
he finally mans up and watches something that gives him a decent idea. So he goes out, buys condoms, hides them under his pillows and invites you over.
you two will start playing games together probably sitting on his bed or something before you make the first move.
after a loss, you're sitting there upset while he stares at you with a cocky smile before you muster up the metaphorical balls to kiss him.
he's excited, really excited, it makes him pop a boner instantly.
everything proceeds with foreplay, making out, slowly taking clothes off, some odd gamer talk in the middle of it,
but since the both of you are inexperienced, it's kind of a struggle. you ask him to prep you, he has no lube and he's scared of decaying the only person he actually holds close so he asks you to prep yourself.
while you do it, it's embarrassing but don't worry he'll be jacking off while he watches so it's fair, right?
once you're done, he gets up, gets the condoms and you two struggle to slide it on him, who knew this shit could be so hard to do and so confusing?
he eventually does slide it all the way down and he gets ontop of you to try different positions.
the best one for the two of you is missionary, so he tries that, he tries to put it in but really he's kind of just humping your folds.
a good struggle later and he finally slips it in, it feels heavenly for the both of you, he doesn't really know how to thrust but he tries, it feels so good.
both of you will end up cumming quick, and doing it over and over again, exploring and experimenting with eachother until you're both covered in fluids and panting on his bed happily.
The aftercare will consist of fastfood and mariokart. or a duo on league.
and that's it you're his girlfriend now.
—Ake 2024
You know what? Fuck it.
This:
I made this out of clips from My Hero Ultra Impact. Sorry if it's cringe.
I don't really know you but you have my full support TvT
I apologize to all my followers for how mentally unwell I am about Sun's new voicelines in Help Wanted 2
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18+, minor don't interact with the 18+ contentTomura shigaraki's biggest simpArtist, writter
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