#shigaraki makes me so fucking sad

[shiggybardust]

What if she hadn’t been saved? What if he had?

#mha fanart #shigaraki tomura #mha eri #shigaraki makes me so fucking sad #shimura tenko #mha #mha shigaraki #digital fanart #fanart #my art #the parallels make me insane

[go-for-it-kacchan]

still working on this fic but I just wanted to share a piece of it

#boku no hero academia #kudoichi #bnha kudou #yoichi shigaraki #fanfic wip #my writing #these two make me so fucking feral #soft an sad and self-indulgent

[candycandy00]

Office Life (Shigaraki x Reader)

Just Shigaraki awkwardly fantasizing about the cute receptionist who works in the same office building as him. You guys let me know if you like this quick “imagine” format for when I don’t have a full fanfic idea.

Smut. 18+. Violence/Blood (not Reader’s). Gender neutral Reader. Dubcon.

Shigaraki, who never had much interest in sex before, when he was so busy with the League and the war. Sure he jacked off to hentai every now and then, but the thought of having real life sex with a real live person didn’t really enter his brain. 

Until now. 

Shigaraki, who is fresh out of prison and working a dumb office job as part of his “rehabilitation”. Who is ignored and avoided by most of his coworkers because of his very publicized past. 

Shigaraki, who just can’t understand why you’re nice to him, why you smile at him so sweetly, like he’s an actual human being and not a monster. Why you, the cute receptionist from down the hall, keeps coming into the office he works in with five other men, desks all lined up neatly. 

Shigaraki, who likes that you look at him and acknowledge him, but sometimes has the irrational urge to show you how terrifying and monstrous he can be, to make you fear him the way everyone else does.

Shigaraki, who sometimes has violent fantasies about you that he will never act upon. Like today when you come into the room to share cookies you baked and brought in to the office. You, having such an obvious crush on him that even a socially inept weirdo like him can tell, blush and smile shyly when he takes a cookie from the box you hold out to him. 

Shigaraki, who has no idea what you could possibly like about him, but feels a little smug that the rest of the guys in the office are clearly jealous. 

And as you move toward the back of the room handing out cookies, constantly glancing back to see if he’s eating his, as if wanting his approval, Shigaraki’s dark fantasy takes over again. 

He imagines standing up from his chair and moving through the room, decaying each man in turn, most of them still holding their dumb fucking cookies, only to reach the back, where you’re cowering in a corner, trembling with fear as blood pools around your feet. 

You turn around to look at him, terror in those big wet eyes of yours, and then the pleading starts. He imagines you begging him not to kill you, babbling promises to not tell anyone, confessing your love in some desperate attempt to win his favor. You’re still clutching your frilly pink box of homemade cookies in your shaking hands. 

In his fantasy, he has perfect control over his quirk at all times, and with no effort at all he can decay the clothes right off your body, leaving you naked and vulnerable in the room full of bloody chunks. And you drop the cookies in your shock, trying to cover yourself with your hands. 

He won’t allow that. He’s wondered what you look like under your clothes for too long. And so he roughly pulls your hands away, getting an eye full, before shoving your back onto the nearest desk, spreading you open and unbuckling his pants. 

In this fantasy, you always struggle at first. But after he starts fucking you hard, you begin moaning his name, wrapping your arms around him, looking up at him with teary eyes and blushing cheeks as he rails you. 

Shigaraki, who snaps back to reality when you walk by him, the scent of your floral perfume drawing his attention. You look at the uneaten cookie in his hand and a flash of sadness crosses your face. He hurries to take a bite, and tries to give you a smile that isn’t creepy. 

You smile back, and he knows for a fact he will never, ever act on his worst impulses with you. Because far more than his desire to show you how much of a villain he can be, he wants you to keep smiling at him. 

And someday, maybe he’ll stop being a fucking coward and ask you to go to a movie with him. 

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki smut #shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #bnha smut #bnha x reader #x reader

[bugs1nmybrain]

Stoner Shigaraki Headcanons 🍃

Warnings: drug use (weed), shigaraki being a loser, some x reader inclusions (fem-reader), NSFW

18+ Minors Don't Interact

Shigaraki started smoking at 16. How he got his hands on it is a question neither AFO or Kurogiri could answer tbh. All they know is one night they smelt a WRETCHED shunky odor coming from his room and the sounds of coughing

When he first started he was actually bad at inhaling, a lot. He'd cough so hard and sometimes to the point that he'd straight up puke. And then he'd go take another hit with the puke still sitting on the floor

Shigaraki's appetite varies when stoned but usually he gets munchies for junk food or bland food like wheat thins lmao

He gets sleepy when he's high and the only thing keeping him awake are his games and his babygirl

Sad Story: AFO loves feeding into Shiggy's anger right? So one day he took his weed when he wasn't there and Tomura came back fucking MAD. He kicked a dent in the wall because he couldn't find his weed. Somehow it was some test of willpower from AFO. He got his weed back tho cuz it got conveniently placed back in it's proper spot a day later and Tomura thought he was going crazy

He's so funny when he's stoned because Tomura can either be pretty chill or clearly zoinked. When he's high af you can tell cuz his eyes are red af and he shakes a bit. He also doesn't make sense when he talks and will start talking about shit that's completely off topic

Hornyyy. Gets horny when he's stoned but sometimes he's too couchlocked to touch himself

Loves pens so much

He's more of an indica girlie because it helps him with his rage. He'll smoke anything tho

You best believe the League has smoke sessions

Goes through periods where he'll be high all the time and then other times he'll be sober or on another substance for a bit. Usually, he swings around his substance use with his manic episodes (I do headcanon Tomura as bipolar and you can't stop me)

Has tried smoking resin

If you can get him to laugh when he's stoned he won't stop for a while

All you'll hear for the next 2 minutes is a nasty uncontrolled cackle

"HehehHHahhaehHEHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"

Had burnt holes in his mattress with joints he smoked when he lived at AFO's

Kurogiri tries to get him to ease up but he never wins

He let's it happen cuz stoned Shiggy is easier to manage than drunk Shiggy

I will make drunk Shiggy headcanons eventually

Will get very affectionate when he's stoned, don't you mistake it. So many kisses and he will not let you go. You'll probably get stuffed

#shigaraki tomura #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki headcanons #tomura shigaraki #shiggy

[after-witch]

The Potential of You and Me [Yandere Shigaraki x Reader]

Title: The Potential of You and Me [Yandere Shigaraki x Reader]

Synopsis: You have a stalker. And he's tired of waiting for you. 

Word Count: 5100ish

notes: yandere, stalking, threats, noncon oral sex, humiliation and degradation

Every box packed is sealed with a mixture of bitterness and relief, all stacked high in increasingly precarious towers; filling the dark corners of your longstanding home with cardboard and hastily made tape labels that you hope won’t peel off in the moving truck. 

It makes you sick to see them. It makes you scared. It makes you sad. 

It might be different, if you were leaving under different circumstances. If you’d gotten a job in a new city and you were starting over with a fresh coat of paint, or something like that. Something you could spin into sweetness and adventure. 

If only.

If only you weren’t moving because you had a stalker and this was the only palatable option left. The police couldn’t do anything--there was no tangible evidence, no matter how many times you insisted things were missing. 

It turns out that “I can feel someone’s eyes on me” and a letter detailing how much they loved you and how good you were going to feel on the inside was not, in the eyes of the authorities, enough to really do anything. Change your locks, they said. You did. Switch up your routine, they said.  You did.

It didn’t matter. Things kept going missing. You kept feeling watched. You came home and found your bedroom window open and another letter on your pillow that you tossed out without reading. 

It wasn’t going to stop, with or without the advice of the police. And you couldn’t do anything to protect yourself, not on your own. You didn’t even have a damn quirk. 

So what can you do? You can pack up your life and find a cheap apartment in another city, where you don’t know anyone, where you don’t have a job, where you’ll be in a place half this size and nowhere near as nice.

You can throw away everything you’ve ever known and pretend that things are going to be fine. 

This is what you’ve been reduced to--but it’s this or your life, isn’t it? Your sanity? You don’t know how much more you can take or how long it will be before your stalker takes a step beyond stealing your underwear or sending you notes. 

What if your stalker decides to go further than leaving letters and taking panties? What if he decides to hurt you--or kill you? You were no stranger to the nightly news, to stories of women found killed and dismembered by men found to be stalking them. 

You had a life to live. Even if you have to live it somewhere else, if you want to be safe. 

You slap another label on a box filled with books (and God, you had too many books, didn’t you? But you couldn’t bear to part with them, stalker be damned) and wiped a trickle of sweat beading on the back of your neck. This would have to do for tonight. The moving truck was coming in 2 days, and you’d been living on little sleep, tons of coffee, and far too much takeout.

You needed a break. Just a little one. Just some sleep, to feel refreshed, before you spend another whole day packing and shoveling food someone else made into your mouth as quickly as you could before you went back to it.

You’re in the bathroom--still not packed, but you’d been putting it off for the end--when you hear the noise.

Something small. A creak. A noise that you would have brushed off a few months ago as nothing. 

But now it sends a twist straight into your gut. You freeze, turn off the sink, and spit foamy toothpaste carelessly into the basin. Your fingers shake and your toothbrush clatters into the sink, too loud, too overt. Fuck.

Your hands clench the end of the counter and you strain sideways, forcing yourself to listen.

Nothing… nothing. Maybe you are being paranoid. Maybe it’s best that you’re moving away, if even the slightest noise had you on edge--

But, oh. 

Oh.

You hear it again.

A creak--but it’s not just a creak, is it? 

It’s a step.

Down the hall. Something is in the hallway. No, not something, because something wouldn’t be wearing shoes that make an unmistakable sound when connecting with the floorboards.

Someone is in the hall. 

Someone is coming for you.

Your body seems to move on autopilot, quick, numb. 

One step, two step. 

You hear the hallway closet door opening. Nothing inside but boxes. 

Another step, and another. 

The guest room door opens. More boxes, and piles of stuff you planned to take to the donation center tomorrow. 

Step, step. Step. 

The hallway isn’t long enough, oh God, how you wish it was longer.

Because all too soon, the steps stop at your bedroom door and there’s an awful scratching sound, like someone is dragging fingernails down the wood. 

The terrible reality of that sound makes your body jolt back to life. You’re just standing there! You stupid, stupid moron. You have to do something. 

Your buzzing mind races, what are you supposed to do? Call the police! But your phone is on your bed, sitting idly on top of the bare mattress where you left it earlier. There’s not enough time. It’s too far away. You’ll get caught, mid-lunge, and your trembling fingers will probably drop the phone anyway.

So you, legs tingling with fear that seems to both paralyze and push you, rush into your doorless closet and stand inside next to the open doorway. 

You’ve already packed your closet up, so there’s nothing to hide behind, no layers of clothing to shield you. Only the darkness of the bedroom that you hope is enough to hide you. 

The door opens with a foreboding creaking that makes your chest hurt. Slow and methodical, like whoever it is is fucking with you on purpose.

You cover your mouth and nose and will yourself not to breathe. 

Someone steps into the room and you curse yourself for not turning off the bathroom light. But the closet should still be dark enough, right? You pray for that, mindlessly.

Whoever it is--it’s a man, you realize, with lanky silver hair, but you can’t see his face--glances toward the bathroom. 

He takes a step, then pauses.

Don’t come to the closet. Don’t come to the closet. Don’t come to the closet. It’s a mantra, a prayer, rushing through your brain as you will him to inspect the bathroom. 

Maybe someone up there likes you, because he does take slow steps toward the bathroom and you wait until he’s in the threshold (where he’ll no doubt see the room is empty) before you bolt from the closet, arm slapping carelessly against the door frame (it hurts) before you rush through the doorway of your room and into the hallway.

Everything is dark and dim. You were going to bed, now you’re running for your life. 

You register only sounds and vague physical feelings that puncture through the veil of your terror. The slap of your bare feet against the floor. The sound of the clock in the kitchen. The scratch against your elbow from one of the cardboard boxes as you run towards the front door, a sharp corner digging into your skin. 

And then you hear the slow, calm steps that come from behind you, almost matching the ticking of the kitchen clock in their lack of urgency.

Your fingers pull on the doorknob and nothing happens. Your palm grips it, twisting this way and that, turning the lock open and shut and open and shut. But it doesn’t open, no matter what you do, what you turn. A soft, helpless sound pushes its way out of your throat.

And then you look up and see something jammed into the top of the doorway, like it’s been stuck on there. A barrier? A lock? You have to get it off, and you go to stand on your tiptoes when a voice behind you sends every nerve in your skin tingling.

“You’re not very good at this, are you?”

Your bowels clench and your hands shake as they slap against the door and you turn your body around to face the man who broke into your home.

The light is dim, lit only by some streetlights streaming through the window and the tiny light above your stove in the kitchen. His hair is the easiest thing to see about him, light colored. His clothing is dark. His face is hidden in shadows.

“Please don’t hurt me,” you whisper, keeping your back pressed against the door. If only you had a quirk that would let you melt through walls or blast open locks or do something, anything, to help yourself.

The man tilts his head, and there’s a dim recollection in your mind at the gesture. It’s like something out of a movie. Or a video game. Is this a game to him? Some twisted entertainment? 

“No?” His voice has something of a gravel to it, like he needs to clear his throat. But there’s a smoothness underneath it all, too--a teasing lilt that worries you to the core. “Why shouldn’t I?”

“I--” You lick your lips, and your shoulders shake like you’ve been left in the cold for too long. “I don’t want to die.”

“Oh,” he says, and there’s a snicker at the edge of his voice that promises to cross over should you amuse him too much. “Of course you don’t.”

Your hand stupidly reaches behind you and pulls at the door again. All it does is make a shifting sound as it slips uselessly through your fingers. You aren’t going anywhere. At least not through the front door. But the windows… 

You stand up straighter, trying to center yourself, trying to calm down.

“What… what do you want? I-I have some money, but not much. I’m moving, so--”

He scoffs. You can’t see his expression, exactly, but you get the impression that he’s narrowed his eyes. That he’s annoyed with your suggestion for some reason  you can’t fathom. 

“I don’t want your money.”

It’s a stupid question to ask, but you ask it anyway.

“Then…what do you want?”

He sighs, and that snicker is there, all dark and teasing. It makes your chest hurt more. And then you watch, entranced, as he reaches into his pocket and pulls something out.  A handkerchief? Or a piece of lace? It’s light blue and colorful and--

Fucking hell. 

It’s a pair of your underwear. A cute pair you’d picked out on a whim last year. And… he’s holding it in his hands, fingers drumming in the air, almost toying with the fabric as you stare. This pair went missing, didn’t it? Then how--

“I came to give this back. Aren’t I generous?”

“Give it… back?” The words come out in quiet disbelief and everything clicks in your head, like a lock snapping shut on something you should have realized long ago.

He’s holding a pair of your underwear.

He’s broken into your home. 

He’s your stalker.

“You’re--my…” You can’t bring yourself to bring the word into reality. “And you’ve been…” Your back presses harder against the door, as if you might just conjure up that wall-busting quirk through sheer will alone. 

“Please leave!” You’re almost shocked at how high and loud your voice is, despite the way your body trembles. You lick your dry lips again, and words come tumbling out. Something, anything, to make him go away. “I’ve already called the police. So-so they’re on their way and if you don’t leave, they’ll--”

“Don’t lie.” 

Your mouth stops mid-ramble. 

“I’m… I’m not lying. I really did, I--”

His hand dips into his other pocket and he pulls out your phone, shaking it slightly at you, like presenting evidence of misbehavior to a wayward child. One of his fingers is sticking out to the side. It’s strange, but--

“Unlock it,” he says, holding the screen out flat and there’s no room for argument in his voice. Nor are you stupid enough to try to grab the phone from him. You place a shaking finger on top, and the screen lights up, revealing your latest background--some silly photo your friend sent you a few months ago. 

He begins to run his thumb down your screen, until you see that he’s bringing up your recent calls. 

“Moving company… takeout…” He smiles, but in the darkness, it looks more like a sneer. “No police.” 

You swallow, throat dry. He splays his fingers out suddenly, keeping his thumb wrapped around the screen. He places one finger down. Two fingers. Three, four, five.

And your phone crumbles to dust.

Your bowels clench hard, and you push back against the door.

“Please,” you whisper, throat dry, mouth trembling.

He takes a step closer. You can look at nothing but his fingers. Even in the dimness, you can see a fine layer of dust on them.  Your phone. Your phone, there and gone, nothing but ashes. And now he’s taking a step closer to you, reaching out with his hand. 

You make a sound, something soft and primal in what you believe are your last moments, but instead of agonizing pain and nothingness, you feel only a single finger on  your cheek. You blink, and the tears held back by your imminent death fall easily. His finger makes a lazy swipe up your cheek, catching the tear.

“I like that. Keep saying that, okay?”

“Please?” There’s disbelief in your voice, yes, but hope, too. Hope that you can get out of this alive.

He makes a low sound, like a hum. 

“Please… don’t hurt me.” 

He pulls his finger away and looks at you. Now that he’s closer, you can see a bit more of his features. Or at least, you can make out the smile he gives you. It’s not a comforting smile.

“I won’t hurt you, if you’re good. Now…” He takes a step backward. “Turn around for me. Face the door.”

You don’t want to. More than anything, you don’t want to listen to him. But you have to, at least for right now, if you want to live. So you force your stiff, leaden muscles to work and face the traitorous door that won’t open for you anymore.

“Good,” he says, with a note of something like pleasantness. “Now stay nice and still while I tie your wrists.” 

You do wait. You wait until you hear him unzipping the bag slung around his shoulders, and then you bolt on tingling muscles, pounding down the hallway and whipping back into your bedroom. You can’t call the police, but you sure as shit can jump from your bedroom window.

Your thighs are up against the bottom of your bed--you just have to climb on and get over your headboard to the window behind it, so close, so close--when you feel hands on your back, pressure, and all of the air goes out of your lungs as something big and heavy tackles you and pins you to the bed.

Your mouth opens, and you’ve finally gotten the idea to scream--only for four fingers to slap over your mouth in an instant. There’s dust on them. Like bitter salt. 

“Quiet.” The word is practically hissed into your ear, and all thoughts of making a sound cease. But you don’t give in, not yet, because you’ve read your true crime books and watched your horror movies, and you know what happens to people who get pinned to beds by stalkers who break into their homes. It can’t happen to you. It can’t. 

He grips your shoulders with one hand and flips you onto your back. He slowly releases the hand over your mouth, because you’re smart enough to stay quiet, aren’t you? Especially when those fingers could come down (one, two, three, four, five) and kill you in an instant.

You’re quiet. But you won’t give in without some fight. You move to sit up, free hands pushing against his check--do you really think you’re stronger?--and his breath hitches above you as he grips your wrists and pushes forward, pinning you to the bed.

Your teeth clack together when your head hits the mattress, and against your better judgment, you continue to buck and squirm, pulling at the wrists keeping you on the bed. He’s too strong. You don’t even make it an inch. And the sheer helplessness of it all turns to worms in your stomach, cold and slithering. 

But you don’t stop trying, and your breath comes in heaves as soft, timid sounds of daydreamed escape push past your lips. If you could just get a wrist free. If you could just get a leg free. If you could just get him off you.

Thoughts come and go without staying concrete. Maybe a hero was walking by your bedroom window just now and he heard the tousling and he’s going to break the window and save you. Maybe the police decided to do something and send a patrol car to your home. Like gray daydreams, these fuzzy hopes of rescue.

Instead, there is a man above you, pinning you down with nothing but his strength and if he wanted to, he could turn you to dust for being too difficult. 

But you don’t turn to dust. Instead he’s looking down at you, leaning forward so his hair tickles your face. You can make out his features now, tired, lined, crazed. He scares you in a way you can’t articulate. There’s something deeply, terribly sad and--wrong--about him.

“I should punish you a little.” His words feel sour, breathed onto your face. “But… I can’t stay mad at you…” He leans forward until his nose is absurdly pressed against your cheek, nuzzling your skin, even as you turn your head in an attempt to lessen the contact. “Not when I’m finally ready to take you home.”

The word is a vice, and it’s like all the strength gets sapped out of you at once. 

“Home?” 

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he tugs at your wrists until they’re resting on top of your stomach, and he takes one hand and holds both of your wrists firm. 

“Don’t be stupid.”

You aren’t. Your skin feels numb from fear, but you keep your wrists still as he leans backward and opens the bag hanging from his shoulders. He pulls out some restraints made from some type of cloth, and wraps them around your wrists one after the other. There’s a center strap in the middle of them, which he yanks high, pulling at your arms, until they’re above your head. The headboard--he’s tied the strap to the headboard.

"There. Nice and snug." He seems pleased, and that scares you more than any of his threats or the dust still clinging to his fingertips. You don’t want him to sound so pleased, not when you’re here, in the dark, tied to your bed.

Your words taste bitter as you force them out of your drying mouth. 

“What are you going to do?” You want to know. You don’t want to know. You want it over with--you don't want him to start. You flex your fingers, but your bound wrists aren’t going anywhere. 

He leans forward, and there’s something sickly sweet on his face. A grin--a grin that is not very nice at all. 

“What am I going to do?” he says, voice higher, frightened. Mimicking your fear. His hand reaches for your face and you flinch, but all he does is trail two fingers on your cheek, winding down until they rest on your lips.

“Open up.”

You do, because what other choice do you have? In an instant he shoves the fingers inside, and you gag on dust and salty skin. He pushes them too forward and you retch.

“Oops.” He giggles. It’s a breathy sound, not at all sweet. “Lick them, okay?” 

Your eyes widen. You want to ask him why, but the thought of making any muffled sound around his fingers makes you sicker than the grittiness currently in your mouth.

“It’s for your own good,” he says, with an almost teasing lilt to his voice. “I promise.”

You don’t trust any of his promises. But you do trust the taste of the dust in your mouth, a forewarning of what might happen to you if you don’t listen.

Slowly, you force the muscle of your tongue to start licking his fingers. It’s a short motion--you want as little contact with his fingers as possible. You have to fight back that way, at least, don’t you? Even if it makes him mad.

But it doesn’t make him mad. He coos, if anything. “Oh, you’re like a kitten.” The words are gross and stick inside your chest, and you can’t ignore the tears threatening to spill onto your cheeks. But you keep licking.

Done, or maybe just bored, he pulls them out and wipes an excess line of connecting drool onto your cheek. “Good enough.”

For what?

Without warning, he reaches lower and yanks down your pajama bottoms. You can hear the elastic rip from the force, and the soft fabric bunches up around your knees. 

Whatever part of you that had resolved to be good and quiet dissolves in primal fear, and you shriek--perhaps there’s words in there (Don’t, please, oh--)--but they die the instant he holds up his hands, and is there where you die, too? 

But he doesn’t bring his hand down. 

Instead, he digs down into his pockets and you only have the briefest moment to register that he’s holding the panties from earlier, the ones he stole from this very bedroom, before they’re shoved into your mouth. The fabric tastes stale and there’s brief pulses of horror (what was he doing with them all this time?) before you try to push at all the bunched up fabric with your tongue, desperate to get it out. 

He regards you with a smile, and there’s something so low in it, degrading and dark. 

“Keep them in there. Unless you want the neighbors to hear?” Then he pats your cheek with a few fingers. “If you spit them out, I’ll just gag you with something bigger.”

You don’t want to know what that would be. What remains of your whimpers are muffled around your underwear as he scoots backward and grips your thighs. He pulls them apart without a word and your legs tremble. You could kick, couldn’t you? You could fight and kick and even if your hands are tied, you could.

But you don’t want him to hurt you. You don’t want to die. You want this to be over with. You want him to do what he’s going to do and leave and you’ll call the moving company in the morning and ask if they can pick up your things today. Or you’ll run out the door with only your essentials, and a favorite book or two, a memento--your mom’s necklace, a trinket or two--and… and things will turn out all right.

They have to.

So all you do is keep up your pitiful little whimpers as he rips your underwear off and tosses the destroyed garment on the floor. The coolness from the exposure makes you tremble. Or maybe that’s the fear, and the realization that he’s going to touch you.

He hooks one arm under your thigh and keeps it pulled to the side, giving him easier access to the .

You feel them, then. His fingers. Warm and a bit gritty. Touching you, stroking you, playing with you carelessly like someone who is happy to explore something for the first time. There’s no real consistency to the way he touches you. He pulls apart your pussy lips and prods inside. You jump. He runs his fingers up and down the middle of your slit. 

It doesn’t feel good. But it doesn’t hurt (that’s something) and maybe he won’t hurt you, after all? Not that you want it, not that you would rather be anywhere else right now (I won’t complain about my new city, you think, not the rent or the public transportation or the new neighbors. I’ll be so good and so grateful if this is over with quickly and he leaves.)

And then his finger is touching gently at your clit. It’s too sudden. Your hips jerk and a sound is stifled by your gag. He watches you and pulls his finger back a bit, instead touching around your clit, ghosting it, a much more tolerable (and sickening) feeling. He’s gentle, almost, and it hurts to contrast it with everything else. 

You think about how many of your personal things have gone missing. The letters he’s left you flash in your mind. He can’t stop thinking about you. He wants to know you. He-needs-you-he-wants-you-he-will-have-you. And then… then you think about your phone crumbling to dust and what would it look like, if he did that to your skin?

You don’t want this. This can’t be happening. But it is, and there’s no way to escape the reality of the situation with his body so close to yours--with your hands tied firmly to the headboard. 

You feel the trail of slick on his fingers before you see it, just as he pulls his fingers away. It’s a bodily reaction, nothing more than that. But it doesn’t lessen the humiliation and the terror, and the panty gag in your mouth is soaked with drool and salty tears that have dripped in from between your lips.

“I was going to wait until we got back,” he murmurs. “But…” He almost looks wistful, and there’s a small, childish smile on his face. “You feel so much better in person than I imagined. You know that?” You see him working his bottom lip under his teeth--is that where his scabs are from? “Fuck it.”

All you register is him swooping down and the quick bob of his head before you feel it--his tongue between your pussy lips. It’s startling, and you gasp around your stolen underwear as the warm muscle goes from awkward prods to gently lapping around your clit, just touching the edges of it with enough firmness to send your nerves singing. 

You mewl. You can’t help it. It’s a sinful feeling, delicious and abhorrent. It’s a wet warmth that keeps going, lapping and lapping, making all of your nerves go haywire. Your legs kick on their own, and the thigh kept in his grip trembles.

He pulls back just enough to talk, and you wish he wouldn’t.

“Are you close already? You’re going to be so much fun…” 

He’s back between your legs then, and you feel one finger carelessly toying with your entrance. You clench, but he doesn’t go inside. Instead he presses his mouth back against you, and there’s warmth both from his mouth and your own body, flushing as he forces pleasure to start shooting down your stomach straight to those blissful nerves between your legs.

You moan into your gag, and he moans back. Everything feels sloppy and wet as his tongue begins to lap back and forth, harder, pressing firmer against your clit until you feel it coming--electric and tingling and unwanted, all the same. Your orgasm hits as you shake your head--no no no no--and your legs twitch until the orgasm fades.

All you’re left with is aftershocks and shame.

He maneuvers himself until he’s almost chest to chest with you. His pants press against your exposed lower half, and you can feel your dampness mingling with the fabric of his trousers. And there’s… something else you feel, too.

He’s hard.

You choke back a sob into your gag. You imagine what he’ll do now. He’ll pull down his own pants and he’ll spread your legs again, and you’ll feel him and it will be even more invasive and--

Your breath comes faster now, and you almost wish you were still gagged, so that the sound of  your frightened heaves weren’t so open and ragged. 

It seems like he understands what you’re thinking. 

“You can pay me back some other time, okay?” A finger traces up your neck to your mouth, and he sticks his fingers between your lips and pulls out the now damp panties without a word. “You’re probably tired, huh? I’ll take you back, then.” He says this all so casually and it makes it harder for the words to soak in at first. 

And when they do it, it stings just as badly. 

The sounds that were muffled by your gag now seem to echo around the mostly-empty, packed room. Sniffling. Little choked sobs that shake your chest. Because if he wants you to pay him back, is he going to let you go? If he’s planning on taking you somewhere, will he ever bring you back home? 

How could you call that moving truck anyway, if your phone is dust? 

Where can you run to, if your stalker can kill people with a touch? 

What can you do, except beg for something you know won’t be happening? 

“Please,” you whisper. Quick. Erratic.  “I won’t tell anyone. Just let me go, and I won’t tell.” 

His smile twists into something that’s almost like pity. But there’s something deeper in it. Sharp and bitter. “Hush, hush.” His knuckles reach up and wipe at your tears. “You’ll get used to it. I know you will.” He pats your cheek twice. “I’m…” He seems to consider something. “Call me Tomura. Only that.”

You don’t respond. You don’t want to call him anything. 

Without fanfare, he sits back up on the bed and reaches into his pocket to pull out a phone. His phone, you assume. There’s only a few swipes before he’s putting it up to his ear and talking to some unknown recipient. 

“Hey.” He looks at you and pets your hair. Is it meant to be soothing? Patronizing? Both? “Yeah, we’re ready.”

Without warning, there’s a heavy feeling before blackness fills the room. Your eyes widen like saucers but he doesn’t explain--he doesn’t need to, you know this is not going to be good. 

You could beg. You could spend the next few seconds promising that you’ll do anything if he just leaves you alone. But whatever words might force themselves out of your trembling lips are stuck inside your chest, like so many other things. Thoughts of the apartment waiting for you in a new city. The movers that will call and call and never get an answer from you. Friends and family who are waiting to go out for one-last-big-lunch to send you off.

He unhooks your wrists from the headboard and hoists you over his shoulder, giving you a perfect view of your bedroom as he takes steps into the heavy black swirl that appeared out of nowhere.

Behind you, the doorway of the unpacked bathroom is still open, lit up, showing the contents of your life in full display.

#yandere shigaraki #yandere tomura shigaraki #yandere bnha #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere #afterwitch writes

[mamayan]

YANDERE SHIGARAKI TOMURA X DARLING

⚠️ MDNI•NSFW•18+•Dark Content ⚠️

Specific warnings: Implied kidnapping, x reader, yandere themes, assault, non-con, forced dub-con, afab! darling, vaginal penetration, oral (m! Receiving), anal, degradation, humiliation, abuse, mean Tomura, seriously this is fucking dark and sad but I’m writing as realistically as I can, Tomura is mentally ill, don’t read if you usually prefer fluff, angst

Synopsis: Oh how this man claims to be so much more, but he’s just a desensitized gaming addict and the only real murder he’s committed is dusting. He never really took a person apart until they begged for death… until you.

“FUCK!” The scream echoed off the walls of the dark room. He threw the game controller to the ground, his hands digging into his hair and pulling at the greasy blue strands. When he wasn’t done whining after a minute, you prepared yourself mentally.

Just as predicted, within a few moments after his cursing and game rage died down, blood shot red eyes flicked over to you.

You. Chained up like a dog to the bed post, curled in on yourself on the floor by the nightstand. It didn’t matter how small you made yourself, how low you bowed and bent. You were seen as a patronizing civilian that worshiped heroes and licked the hypocrisy they spewed right off the ground they walked. Begging irritated him, pleas for mercy usually resulted in more injury and pain, so you stayed silent and still. Your lip had barely healed enough that it wasn’t agonizing to drink or eat, and you didn’t feel like having the wound reopened.

He’d lost for the nth time already. This level harder than the last few he’d easily conquered but none of it truly mattered except surviving another night. You counted in your mind as he sauntered over to you, sneering down at your sorry, dirty, naked figure. He hadn’t allowed you a shower or bath in over a week, so you were caked in your own sweat, blood, and his semen. He liked painting you, marking you with cuts and bruises shaped like his hands. His hands he could place on you fully and you wouldn’t disintegrate. Your useless quirk suddenly the reason you’ve entered this unending nightmare.

1…2…3…4…5

Fingers dug into the flesh of your upper arm, yanking you onto unsteady feet and shaking legs. He pulled you to his level, vitriol soaking his words, “You think it’s funny don’t you? Fucking whore, are you mocking me?” It was a rhetorical question, but he reacted as if he really wanted an answer. His free hand moved to wrap around your neck, cutting off air as he bared his teeth and yelled at you, “FUCKING ANSWER ME!”

“No!” You were forced to answer, but it was never a game you could win with whatever words left your lips. He pushed you towards the bed, his thin figure oddly powerful as you tripped over your own feet and landed only halfway on the mattress. You’d been starved of any actual nutrients from his snack binges, though you were aware his own meals were prepared by a man named Kurogiri. It left you weak and lethargic, unable to really fight back, and now it seems more serious issues were arising as your legs didn’t quit support you anymore.

You could only try and calm your breathing as you heard him unbutton his pants. The scent of his bed a mild distraction for what was to come as you let your mind drift. The man, Kurogiri, washed his sheets weekly, his comforter biweekly, and did some sort of mattress vacuuming and deep clean. The mist covered man never spoke to you, never even acknowledged you existed. Your own existence seemingly reduced to… this.

Nails dug into your scalp and you could only whine in pain as the chain connected to your collar was used to yank you up further onto the bed where he wanted you. Compliance wasn’t the best thing to do, it was the only thing to do. You either did it yourself or he did it for you, and it would hurt exponentially more if he did it. “You must think I’m a loser huh? Some pathetic nobody. Let me make something clear,” his breath smelled like sugar and chemicals from his energy drink, “The only pathetic loser here is you.”

You were grateful when he shoved your face into the mattress. Grateful he couldn’t see the tears leak from your half opened distance gaze as you stared at the television screen he’d abandoned. He was right, you were the pathetic loser here. The screen was on the starting page, an armored warrior decked out in all of Tomura’s favorite equips…just… hovering.

The sounds of fabric rustling caught you attention, and you did your best to relax when you felt cool wet fingers messily prod your entrance. You stayed still when he moved completely, likely dropping down to spread your ass so he could spit directly onto your cunt. He wasn’t really speaking to you as he muttered out a mild “dumb whore” before shoving his half hard cock inside of you. It stung, his hips trying to shove himself into a dry channel with grunted effort. His hand came down next to your face, blocking to view of the tv as you grit your teeth remain silent. It didn’t matter if you screamed or wailed, he got off on it even more, so why give him the satisfaction? You clenched the bed sheets between your fingers and could only hope he’d be done soon.

How wrong you’d be though.

Tomura seemingly had something to prove tonight. He kept muttering beneath his breath about something called a “Nomu” and “Fucking Stain” but you really couldn’t understand too much. Only that he was clearly taking whatever frustrations those caused out on you.

Despite your best efforts, all your willpower, you body betrayed you like it always did. Slick wet his passage and soon he was hammering into you with fervor and it only made you sick inside because a small part of it all felt good. Horrendously good, and with each passing day, you internally began craving any interaction. Even if it was like this. Detached or full of hatred which burned so much hotter than your own despite being the victim. “Fuck- tight, relax!” he huffed loudly, his moan not matching his words before his hand connected with your ass and a yelp ripped from your lips finally.

He laughed, forcing you up the bed further to hike your hips up and force your head down to fuck even deeper into you. Your own juices making the sounds so much more erotic as his hips smashed into you, forcing each inch of him inside. You could only cry and bite back the noises struggling to come out, the pleasure becoming a little too strong as a war began inside of you. You didn’t want to give this monster the satisfaction but your body was begging for release.

You could resume your count, hoping it distracted you long enough for him to finish first.

6…7…8…9…

“What’s wrong huh? Not gonna scream for your heroes tonight?” His palm connecting with your ass didn’t register right away, but the next one did. You could only whimper and whine, still intent on keeping your noises minimal.

10….11….12….13….

“Fuck you get tighter every time I spank you. Do you like getting fucked by a disgusting villain? Who’d even fucking want you now that I’ve had you?” His tip kept nailing just the tip of your cervix and it was making stars dance in your vision. His nasty words no longer really registering. “You don’t know pain, not really. You think being immune to my quirk makes you special?” Only tiny choked sobs and the noises of him railed you into the mattress answered him.

What number were you on again? 10?

“I’m gonna fill this pussy- fuck!” You wanted to crawl away from it all but he had you pinned. You couldn’t remember the numbers or even your name really. You did know you were going to come if he didn’t stop. “Please-!” You hated it, the way he made you feel. So weak and pathetic, and he wasn’t even trying to make you feel good. You didn’t want to come, you didn’t want any of this. Your heart was beating so loudly in your ears, you could hardly hear anything anymore. You didn’t even realize the noises now coming from your throat sounded like pure ecstasy.

Tomura even slowed down momentarily, stunned by the lewd moans and cries you were making, and then how wet you were despite everything. It drove him wild.

His hips slammed into you, both hands now digging into your hips and all you could do was take it. Each thrust was met with him yanking you back onto his swollen cock, you could even feel it beginning to throb inside of you.

You broke for the first time as your orgasm washed over you, reducing you to a shaking whiny mess. Your twitching and tightening walls had Tomura following right behind you, moaning into your back as he filled you up.

You both stayed quiet for a moment, panting and struggling to regroup your minds. For just a second, you closed your eyes and pretend it was different. That you were just as your boyfriend’s house playing video games and it led to passionate sex. That it wasn’t a psychopathic villain that just fucked you senseless. Maybe he was pretending you were as fucked up as he was. Maybe you were if this is where you are now.

He pulled out slowly, his breathing still slightly ragged but he’s mostly recovered now unlike you.

The sight of you on his bed like this, limp and leaking his cum from your cunt, had him hard all over again. It was easy to just manhandle you to laying with your face near the edge of the bed on your side, where he could present his cock in front of your face.

“Open up slut, I’ve got your favorite thing right here.” His snarky comment and snicker ignored as you opened your mouth, letting him stuff his cock inside as you struggled not to gag and choke. He needed to shower. So did you. Sadly, Tomura wasn’t a man that liked waiting or had any patience. His hand settled behind your head, and then his hips moved. He cared little if you choked on his cock, the thick appendage sinking into your throat and making you cry for all new reasons. You could only be grateful he seemed to want to enjoy this blow job, hips moving leisurely and just slow enough you could still breathe. He was murmuring nonsense, and you did your best to suck and take all of him the best you could to ensure this night didn’t end as a new nightmare. For a moment, you really thought it wouldn’t, but when he hit too deep and you gagged and pulled away…

It enraged him. “Bitch!”

A sharp noise echoed, and it took a moment for the blinding pain that seared the side of your face to process with your mind as a slap. The next side followed, as you cried out and tried to raise your hands to prevent worsening damage.

It didn’t matter. You could already taste blood and acknowledge your lip was probably worse off than it began. This was the thing about Tomura, it was like he could sense your relief. He was a predator that preyed on all things comfort or joy. “Did you just try to bite me? STOP CRYING!” His hands shot out to wrap around your neck, yanking you up and cutting off all air as you had a short panicked moment to stare into his eyes.

He looked unhinged.

“Who the fuck do you think you are? You’re mine, my fucking toy, and if I want to make you die choking on my dick you should be grateful.” He’s out of his mind, but then again you knew that already. The edges of your vision darkened due to the lack of oxygen and you briefly wondered if this was how you really died.

You also briefly wanted to.

Unfortunately he didn’t seem done with you yet, when he forced you off the bed and let you drop to the floor to gasp like a fish out of water. Choking down air greedily before shrieking in pain as the same air was knocked from your lungs. His foot connecting with your stomach had you reeling, no liquids or food to throw up so it left you dry heaving and curling in on yourself.

“Shut up! It’s your fault! This is all your fault! Why’d you get to have a nullifying quirk, huh? What makes you so fucking great? Nothing! I can still kill you!” His hands pressing you down to the floor, shoving you on your back as you dizzily looked up at the man torturing you.

You hated him. Hated all of him. Hated how violent he was. How he never asked for anything, just took it. Hated how spoiled he acted. Hated how even now, you felt a small piece of you pity this monster, as tears streamed down his face. Despite his eyes being locked on you, he wasn’t looking at you. He was seeing someone else, and the grief in his eyes was real and you hated that there were pieces of him that were human.

He spread your legs easily, your body too weak to fight back. He was shaking, even as one finger dipped inside you, his free hand was scratching violently at his neck until blood began to pour. It’s oddly like he’s trying to match your pain, or he needs pain in general to get off somehow. He used your own combined fluids to lubricate your other hole, dipping a finger in even despite your whine of protest. At least he was lubricating you this time. Small mercies.

When he pressed into your ass, the stretch and burn had you wanting to vomit again. It just amplified the rest of the pain in your body. You let the tears flow this time, still outmatched by his own. His face screwed up in a grimace because this must not be pleasant for him either. His eyes wide and still crying, as he struggles to move inside you due to the tightness. His teeth were grit and bared and you wanted to ask why he was doing all this.

Time seemed to slow down as only your grunts of pain and his of pleasure were exchanged. Your cunt leaking and and neglected as your ass finally relaxed enough to take more than half of him in at once. His thrusts were short and jerky, and he’d placed a hand around your throat for balance more than anything. The other rested on your hip, his eyes locked to where you were joined. For a sadistic psycho, he didn’t look at your face much when he was like this.

Eventually you went numb.

You didn’t feel like seeing his agonizing expression just like he didn’t really like seeing yours. Your head turned, staring at the only light source this dark room ever had, the television. You let your mind wander, trying to think of what would defeat the next boss Tomura kept struggling to defeat.

You flinched when you felt a tickle across your bare chest. Blue strands grazing your chest and collar bone as Tomura leaned his face down close to your own.

He wasn’t crying anymore. If anything, he looked apathetic.

You didn’t know your expression matched his perfectly.

You felt his pace increase, the hand around your throat tightening and something inside you knew. The way he looked down on you seemed to have some sort of resolve. Your hands moved slowly to wrap around his wrist, a strange contrast and his brows furrowed in confusion. His cock dragged inside you, the earlier pain replaced by an odd sensation you couldn’t say you disliked or liked either. You were full in different way.

“What are you-?”

“Kill me.” His eyes widened ever so slightly.

His hips stilling.

You could only lick your chapped and bleeding lips, as silence seemed to eat away at the room.

“Please… kill me.” You didn’t feel the tears flowing down your cheeks, or the warmth of his body on top of you, or much of anything but the cold anymore. You were freezing. You’re seemingly always cold and a deep rooted exhaustion had taken hold of you.

“What are…?” He looked disgusted for a moment, his eyes becoming wider as he pulled out of you and shuffled away.

You didn’t move.

“Kill me…” it was so faint he hardly heard it.

Tomura stood, an odd conflict inside him as he stared down at you. Sweet perfect you, except you didn’t really look like you used to, and he was feeling nauseous as your words echoed in his head.

Kill me

He’d asked that once before.

He scrambled to his feet, his erection gone and strangely so was his earlier dilemma. He’d been struggling to find his solution, to get rid of you like Master wanted or to not.

His eyes took in the sight of you again and an emotion he can’t stand fills him.

Guilt.

He’s a villain. He shouldn’t feel guilt or shame. Why did he feel sick then? When you asked the same thing he asked?

Did you see him as he saw Father?

He stumbled clumsily into the bathroom just in time to empty the contents of his stomach into the toilet.

He needed air.

He returned nearly 12 hours later, showering in a different bathroom than the one attached to his room, in fresh clothes. His tv still on the home screen of his game left abandoned now. His bed still messy and empty.

You still where he left you. Curled up and in on yourself. His chest constricted but he forced down the rising bile with a mission in mind.

His eyes tracked the thin chain that kept you in the room, in his palm the key which would release that. His skin itched but he ignored it in favor of walking around you and towards the lock on the bed. Once it was unsecured, he had no choice but to move towards you now.

His hands shook as he moved to reach out and touch you. Your skin clammy and cold. He unlocked and removed the collar from your throat.

“Kurogiri… can you get her into the bath?”

“Yes.”

It was simple enough, the task of washing you. It was like cleaning a real toy, except he got to look at all the damage he’d done. You were awake, sort of, but limp and weak as he cleaned you as gently as he could. He flinched when you did as he washed over your cuts and bruises, bite marks, and your intimates. It took a few washes before he felt satisfied. Once he’d dried you with a towel, Kurogiri gracefully settled you into Tomura’s freshly cleaned and made bed. You didn’t talk, not even a noise, as he wrapped you up in the blankets and pulled you into his arms.

You didn’t speak as he cried and held onto you, whispering to you things he doubted you really could hear.

“I don’t hate you” an ironic statement for him, but he doesn’t. He never hated you. He envied you. He wanted you. He wanted you to understand him. He wanted anyone that could understand him.

You fell asleep like that, warm for the first time in months.

Author Notes:

Tell me your thoughts, I need constructive criticism on my writing flow and patterns! I didn’t edit this cuz I’m lazy and I can’t find my glasses.

I’m planning a part two cuz Shiggy does redeem himself, mostly.

What’s scarier than a yandere that doesn’t know what they feel for you is love? He’s an immature young man trying to overthrow the government and all of societal views and norms. Of course he’s gonna sick, violent, depraved.

We love character development even in our villain★彡 The LOV gives him that, and in return, Darling starts to benefit (depending on how you look at it lol).

#please read all warnings #bnha #mdni #18+ #shigaraki smut #tomura shigaraki #dark content #shigaraki tomura x reader #x reader #short fic #angst #hurt #this is sad #yandere shigaraki #yandere shigaraki tomura x reader #boku no hero academia #18+ please #yandere

[sapphic-agent]

I think the biggest thing I've learnt from the more critical side of MHA is: don't let your favoritism affect your story. I think it's natural that you're gonna like more characters than others. But if it's like noticeable to a point where the audience sees it, it's a big problem. Or if the character is a fan favorite, they'll praise it to sky heaven. The fact that Izuku VS Shigaraki has been oddly side lined so much in favor of Bakugo VS OFA or him rescuing All Might is... weird to me. Like, I get it. He was dead for a year in our time. But... this IS Izuku's story not Bakugo's. Even if Bakugo is a deuteragonist, he's still not the MAIN protagonist. Shouldn't we be shifting more or less to Izuku VS Shigaraki? MHA has been building up their final fight for 8-9 years, and we're oddly all focused on AFO and Bakugo? And for AFO's backstory, I care less for the potato man. Shigaraki is the villain of MHA, not potato man. Such as Izuku is the protagonist of the story, Bakugo isn't. And it's so baffling to me to see MHA twt praise this series to high heaven and just don't oddily notice that Izuku is just oddily fucking quiet through out this fight?? I know he's focused on stopping Shigaraki, but nothing???? Like the Toga and Uraraka and Todoroki Family arcs got all the attention they deserved, so why tf isn't Izuku and Shigaraki?? I understand they were gonna be last, it IS the final battle after all, but it just seems it's gonna go downhill from there.

Plus, how tf is Izuku gonna be able to save Shigaraki?? Izuku is at his witt's end, and Bakugo said he would take care of AFO. Because if it's ACTUALLY Bakugo & Izuku VS Shigaraki. I'll just- I'll be so done. I get the whole "Izuku doesn't have to do everything on his own" but like- Shigaraki literally KILLED Bakugo and got revived from his goddamn blood exploding. (That shit is still funny to me.) like good Lord, can Izuku just have HIS moment??? If all of the cool power ups and cool moments go to Bakugo instead of Izuku, and Bakugo somehow saves the day.

The fucking ending is gonna be ruined by favoritism. Again, this is just an IF. But I felt crazy reading twt's and no one noticing Izuku hasn't said anything of a) Bakugo being brought back to life b) or just reacting to anything. It just seems like Izuku is just there as a device to carry us towards the ending, at this point.

You're right and you should say it.

Mind-boggling how people will look at this shit and still say Horikoshi doesn't favor Bakugou. Like, what? He is 1-v-1-ing the big bad of the series. The villain who killed almost every past OFA user (would also like to add that these are the same users he insulted and looked down on, so if he is the one to finish AFO, that's a slap in the face to every single one of them). The man who incapacitated All Might. The Demon King who's ruled the underbelly of Japan for the past 200 years.

And you mean to tell me that Katsuki Bakugou of all people is his final boss? That's just embarrassing for AFO tbh.

But the fact of the matter is, yeah Izuku's fight with Shigaraki should have been the main event. Instead, it's being treated as a side quest. Hell, it's being treated as less than a side quest as both Uraraka & Toga and the Todorokis & Dabi were given more attention.

It's sad, not only for Izuku but for Shigaraki too. Horikoshi was so close to making him a complex villain, only for all of his character progression from Deika to go down the toilet. He can't be saved because he's been written to be so completely detached from his humanity.

In general, Izuku and Shigaraki should have had more moments together throughout the series. This interaction between them is meaningless because Izuku doesn't understand Shigaraki enough to save him. It's why he's getting frustrated because there's really no feasible way for him to save Tomura. He isn't Eri or Kota who were just kids in danger and who wanted to be rescued.

I hate to say it, but Izuku hasn't had enough development to be able to save Shigaraki. It's not his fault (it's Hori's), but it's true. For him to understand Tomura, he needed to broaden his worldview and Horikoshi hasn't allowed him to do that.

It's an utter disservice to both characters

#anti katsuki bakugou #mha critical #bnha critical #anon ask #izuku midoriya critical #shigaraki critical

[obsidianstrawberrymilk]

Hello how are you doing? What is your opinion about Tomura, Toga and Dabi?

Hello, I'm going good! Sorry this took me a second to respond to.

Dabi: I actually like Dabi as he is in the manga but I really don't like how the story around him has formed. I think a lot of people lost sympathy for Dabi when it was revealed that he wasn't the perfectly sad victim with torture porn people envisioned, which is disappointing. Horikoshi did this weird thing where he tried to make the LoV sympathetic by doing things such as have them kill a bunch of bigots and show them having genuine bonds and reasons for their actions, but then abruptly changed his tune and did something like depicting them as unhinged mass murderers, mainly to reestablish the whole black and white morality of the series when he was getting a bit too lose to implying there were serious flaws in hero society and the villains gasp had a point?! Anyway, I like him, but now that Endeavour is basically heading the Todoroki family plot, he's been kinda cast aside and made to take the blame for a lot of the issues they're facing rn when it's... literally all Endeavour lmao. Like I don't think he really had to be portrayed as particularly caring or nice for the narrative to acknowledge that he did have a point, and that similar patterns in the Todoroki family are being repeated again, with condemning him for being obvious about and exposing their dysfunction, instead of Endeavour for causing it. Also literally why did he need an ice Quirk as well the whole fucking point was he was an 'imperfect creation' why did he need that what was the point-

Toga: She's cool, kind of boring. Her character is pretty clearly based on some of Horikoshi's weird fetishes, but she's far from the only one, so whatever. I'm really not a fan of hers and Ochako's arc honestly - it feels like they're trying to queerbait without putting in any of the narrative work as to why Toga and Ochako would connect beyond girl and sure, Ochako might feel sympathetic towards Toga, but like her specifically? Villain hero relationships are cool because usually, the villain reveals a new side to the hero, maybe a foil that causes them to question their morality or the person they could have been (ex: Shigaraki for Izuku and Dabi for Shouto). Toga is... not this for Ochako, and Ochako is not this for Toga. Her implied backstory is interesting but I all in all think she's one of the least interesting League members and it's a pity, because we're not really given enough about her.

Shigaraki: I fucking loved his arc for a while there, then they ruined it. Seeing a villain who actually grows from an immature, whiny kid to a legitimate leader who even seems to care about his subordinates was fantastic, and his backstory builds up very well to who he is as a person now. Though, then they regressed him, bought in the inner child that's crying or whatever, and I lost interest. Shigaraki has a compelling character design, was a main villain who grew into the position which is rare, and his Quirk is awesome, and his motivation? Has merit! He had the potential to be a great main villain had they just let him actually grow past AFOs influence, like a mirror to Izuku growing past All Might. But well. They didn't do that. Imo they wasted Shigaraki - for a while there his writing was great and he was one of the best parts of the manga for me.

#sorry this took me forever #mha #my hero academia #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha criticism #tomura shigaraki #tenko shimura #shigaraki tenko #shigaraki tomura #dabi #mha dabi #touya todoroki #todoroki touya #dabi todoroki #toga himiko #himiko toga #thanks for the ask!

[cheezritsu]

I don’t particularly care to stand on polarizing fandom opinion, but this one gets under my fucking skin.

I don’t consider myself a hero or villain stan when it comes to My Hero Academia because I just look at the individual person. I find myself siding a hell of a lot more with the villains because in general, I think it’s true that society failed them, and it’s so sad and infuriating that it failed them at such a young age.

And then there’s Hawks.

And what baffles me about the perception of Hawks is that people will never admit that he’s far more like the villains than the heroes.

Indoctrination goes both ways. Just like Shigaraki was indoctrined by AFO to bring about destruction, Hawks was indoctrined by hero society and the JPHC specifically that Heroes were the ultimate good. Just as Shigaraki was “saved” from his family, Hawks was saved from his. Shigaraki was a tool for AFO to bring about his plan. Hawks is a tool for the JPHC to keep control.

Hawks and Shigaraki are at most two years apart. Hell, we barely ever use Hawks’ birthnames just like Shigaraki and Dabi!

It just doesn’t make sense that people will call the hero society corrupt, but then not call Hawks a victim for being made to carry out its will. Like yes, Hawks chose to be a hero, but he was like, fucking 8 years old and saved from abject poverty and parental neglect. And then you call him a monster for doing the job he’s been brainwashed to do.

If you’re going to have sympathy for villains, and if you’re going to erase some culpability from Shigaraki, Dabi, Toga and Twice because of what they endured, then you have to do the same for Hawks. Because they’re literally all the same. Society failed ALL of them.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #my hero academia hawks #hawks #mha hawks #bnha 374 #mha 374 #keigo takami #mha twice #mha dabi #mha Shigaraki #Shigaraki tomura #I’m not arguing about twice’s death #because what it REALLY boils down to tbh is horikoshi sensei trying to make a point #and I think the point is the system is broken #to the point where the current heroes can’t fix it #and that includes hawks #god I just hate that people don’t even CONSIDER his background #he’s complex!!! he’s hypocritical!! and he should be allowed to be he’s 22!!!

[featherstorm2004]

I FUCKING CALLED IT!

"the things you hate you remember better, right"

"that's why I obstructed people's futures"

"I want everyone to keep watching me"

"I was controlled by my emotions, this isn't like me"

I just new it! there was no way these couldn't have been All For One's true motivations I just knew it! He was way too similar to Shigaraki to have this not be his motivations. Honestly I'm kinda sad to see him go as with the reveal of his backstory he became an incredibly complex and interesting character, but he just doesn't work as the big bad for this story (especially with Shigaraki right there).

But I just don't see any other way for his story could have played out unless we somehow pull a Pride from FMA which would be funny but I don't see Horikoshi doing that. Especially since you can feel how he's eager to end the manga and take a nice long break.

So, yeah sorry to see you go All For One you had a good run but there was no way you could compete against Shigaraki. I probably won't make a meta about this chapter since I've already said every thing in my previous All For One and Shigaraki meta's but I might make one about Shigaraki when the complete chapter and translations come out.

#all for one #my hero academia #mha #boku no hero academia #bnha #bnha afo #afo #bnha 410 #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers

[pinkykats-place]

BakuDeku ft. Deku returns to UA // Post Dark Deku

AO3 Fanfic Recommendations

Disclaimers!

None of the stories linked on titles are mine.

Some contain mature content.

Read tags. Check ratings.

Art work not mine … by @luliadraws

Note: If you read any of these stories and like them please let the author know with a kudos and/or comment!

Do Not Disturb by surveycorpsjean

Summary: Apply enough force, and something is bound to break.

{One Shot}

Rated - Teen & Up

Deku's Response by Flipper96

Summary: Three days after Izuku returns to UA, he finally processes Kacchan's apology.

{One Shot}

Rated- Explicit

hold me till i feel better by leahistyping

Summary: Katsuki had never felt like this before.

So many emotions were swarming through his head at once. He felt anger, frustration, sadness, and especially longing.

He never knew it’d hurt so much to be so Izukuless. The damn nerd was always chasing after him, whether he wanted him to or not. But he was always there, even if Katsuki pushed him away again and again.

(or, after Izuku returns to UA, he gets a fever. but luckily for him, Katsuki’s there to help him).

{One Shot}

Rated - General Audiences

clutch by varooooom

Summary: Class A comes to the mutual agreement that someone should spend each night with Izuku for the time being. They start bidding for shifts and arguing over who should get to go when. It's - Izuku stays silent the whole time, trying not to cry as his friends compete with each other for the chance to take care of him. It's so silly and his heart feels so full.

They didn't ask for his protection. He didn't ask for theirs. But heroes save everyone, and right now -

Right now, they need all the help they can get. They're stronger together. Izuku understands that now.

{One Shot}

Rated - SFW

Where Are You (and I’m So Sorry) by @amarisllis

Summary: When Midoriya leaves, he writes a letter to everyone in class 1A. While he’s gone, Bakugou decides to write a letter of his own.

And when Deku gets back, he's shocked to stumble onto a few folded up pages containing Kacchan's messy handwriting.

Complete | 2 Chapters

Rated - Teen & Up

My eyes are damp from the words you left by ElStark

Summary: And in a last burst of strength Izuku managed to lift his arms and wrap them around Katsuki’s neck, “I love you,” he hadn’t written it in the letter, because he’d known Kacchan would rip it as soon as he’d read the words, but he’d thought about it since, how he hadn’t been able to let ‘I love you’ be the last words he told his childhood friend, the love of his life. “I love you so much, Kacchan, so much.”

“What’s going on?”

“I think he’s delirious from the pain, help me lift him up.”

Kacchan moved away, and someone made a sound that lifted the hair at the nape of his neck for how painfully heartbroken it sounded.

“Fuck, I’m here, I’m here.” Kacchan was immediately back at his side. “what the fuck, Deku,” he whispered, shaky, holding onto Izuku tighter.

Only then did Izuku realize, the sound had come from him. “Kacchan, I love you.”

“Stop that,” Kacchan snapped, “Stop making it sound like goodbye, you piece of shit.”


Izuku laughed. Or maybe he cried harder, he wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

{One Shot}

Rated - Teen & Up

Soft. So soft. byThatCrazyFangir1

Summary: Katsuki and Izuku take some time for themselves after Izuku is brought back to U.A. Izuku rests in his room, and Katsuki keeps him company. They share a bed and their feelings.

{One Shot}

Rated - Teen & Up

April Showers by bkdkforthebirds

Summary: He left in April.

Left with nothing but a note and the ghost of his presence in the pouring rain.

Katsuki should’ve seen it coming after everything that happened with the league and Shigaraki. It was the obvious next move to the nerd, but…

But at what cost?

{One Shot}

Rated - General Audiences

my deku, my izuku by hirakagi

Summary: After Katsuki almost lost Izuku for good during the war, he knew he needed to tell him the truth the next chance he got. He was given a taste of what it would’ve been like to never get to, and he wasn’t going to let it happen. Izuku had to know. And now he did.

But where did it leave them?

{One Shot}

Rated - Teen & Up

Together by @silverynight

Summary: "If you think I'll let you leave me again, you're completely mistaken, Izuku," Katsuki growls, grip tightening around his waist.

Confusion hits him for a moment and it only grows when Katsuki starts wiping away his tears with his thumb.

"It's not that... I mean I left the UA, I didn't... It wasn't you specifically... I–"

"You left me," Katsuki narrows his eyes again. "Because it's different between us; I know I screwed up our relationship many times, but we are different. Our connection is different."

{One Shot}

Rated - Teen & Up

With you close, I can sleep by Sewo

Summary: It had been such a long time since he slept. Every night after the green haired boy left, his thoughts just wouldn’t shut up and let his mind rest. Closing his eyes didn’t help when all he could think about was Deku and his letter.

And now the nerd had the fucking audacity to sleep right there in front of him, with his muscles relaxed, his mouth slightly agape, when Katsuki, now the stress of bringing him back gone, had barely the energy to stand up.

— — —

AKA: Two boys with issues have trouble sleeping and find comfort in each other.

{One Shot}

Rated - General Audiences

i'll catch you when nobody else will. by yourmomcalled00

Summary: Izuku has an identity crisis in his time as a vigilante. After Katsuki's apology he goes back to UA. Where the only way he can function is if he can see Katsuki's alive. Touch him, or hold him.

When he finally decides to leave again, Katsuki is there to stop him.

***

'Because Deku was his. Losing him was not something that Katsuki wanted to repeat.

Ever again.'

Complete | 2 Chapters

Rated - Explicit

no one can hurt you now by brainrotprofessional

Summary: "Relax." Katsuki gruffs, when Izuku's muscles stay locked up. Then, quieter, "you're safe now."

He whispers the words into Izuku's hair, breathing in the scent of shampoo tinged with rain. Katsuki's only answer is tears finally soaking his t-shirt as Izuku cries soundlessly, ever altruistic even in his sorrow.

Stupid nerd. Katsuki would do anything for him.

— — —

Or, the fic where post-vigilante Izuku needs a hug, and he gets one. (from Katsuki).

{One Shot}

Rated - Teen & Up

The Unattended Moment by bigcatsmallcat

Summary: Maybe all he needs is a night of respite from the chaos brewing all around the confines of UA. Knowing his family and friends and most civilians are accounted for. A comfy bed with clean-smelling sheets. His favourite person in the entire world right next to him, where nothing and no one can hurt them.

{One Shot}

Rated - General Audiences

Paragon by usunee

Summary: Deku smiled and glanced up at him. His fingers crept up and toyed with the hem of the Katsuki's shirt. “Why — well, why were you sleeping next to me, Kacchan?” Deku asked, staring holes into the shirt. His fingers found a stray thread and began picking at it.

Katsuki’s heart started thundering suddenly and he was very thankful it was still dark, though he wondered if Deku could feel the heat radiating from his face. He wasn’t even sure why he felt flustered, only that his useless brain couldn’t provide an answer that wasn’t completely humiliating.

— — —

Or, the night that Deku returned to UA and, for reasons even he didn’t know, Katsuki took it upon himself to take care of him.

{One Shot}

Rated - Teen & Up

A Helping Hand by shalia_earante

Summary: Post Chapter 327

Katsuki and Izuku are left alone in the bath after everyone brings him back to UA. Katsuki notices Izuku favoring a sore shoulder so his innocent offer of a helping massage becomes not so innocent...

{One Shot}

Rated - Explicit

unstoppable forces by darkwingsandmages

Summary: There's a fine line between genius and insanity. And right now, All Might is using that line as a goddamn jump rope.

— — —

or, Izuku needs to rest while on the run from All for One, and Search only works on humans...

Complete | 6 Chapters

Rated - Teen & Up

I Never Knew Daylight Could Be So Violent by ElStark

Summary: “My body is doing this on its own!”

Hands reached for him, yanked his mask off, scratched at his face, pulled at his hair until chunks came off.

“I’m sorry!” they were crying.

“It’s okay,” Deku said, letting himself be taken under. “I know it’s not your fault.”

And then.

Like a meteorite streaking the sky in red and orange, like a secret wish come true, Kacchan was there.

Deku felt his eyes widen as he took in the golden brightness his childhood friend was bathed in, like he held the purest form of sunshine beneath his very skin.

{One Shot}

Rated - Teen & Up

At Least for Tonight by Anon_nym

Summary: After returning to UA after being a vigilante for weeks, Izuku feels out of place.

Katsuki notices.

One Shot | NSFW

midnight coward by manegul

Summary: Izuku flinches. “I made everyone worry again, didn’t I?” He sounds exhausted, self-deprecatingly curling in on himself.

Katsuki sighs. “Everyone cares about you, a lot, okay? Don’t— don’t treat it as something that burdens them.”

He knows, because he’s had to break down the hardness and walls around him, to realize that others weren’t looking down on him, but rather, looking out for him.

Izuku’s shoulders slump at his words, as if it was all he needed to hear, and he turns towards Katsuki, and says, “I had a bad dream.”

One Shot | SFW

#post chapter 322 #bakudeku #post s6 ep23 #deku returns to ua #bkdk #fic recs #post dark deku #bakugou x midoriya #bakudeku recommendations #ao3 fic rec #ao3 bkdk #bakudeku confessions #izuku brought back to ua #midoriya returns to ua #class 1A brings deku back #soft bakugou #ao3 fic recs #ao3 bakudeku recs #bakudeku fluff #bakudeku ua students #bakudeku fic rec #bakudeku fic recs #post vigilante deku #dark deku #season 6 #chapter 327 Rest! #2023

[theslythernfreak]

Can I ask your top 10 fav fics ever (from any fandom, if you don't mind)?

Also, just curious, is there a story behind your name "theslythernfreak"?

I dont mind at all!!

Interperspective by SnufflesThePig (merlin. its one of those watching the show fics but like. its so fucking good. i re-read it a couple days ago so. 10/10)

inferno by mahalidael (heroes of olympus. leo valdez centric. i have no hopes of this getting completed but omfg. its so good. will never recover)

Slope by sunfleurmoon (bnha. its bakugou centric and its so SAD and so INTERESTING. im in love with it)

Hey, Brother, There's an Endless Road to Rediscover by TheSilencer (dcu. dick grayson centric. i have re-read it like 7 times now. nothing more to say)

This Is Home by @blackpebbletoad (trials of apollo. valdangelo centric. im gonna CRY it is so good. the characterization makes me wanna pass away.)

feels like we only go backwards by oldpotatoe (atla. sokka and zukka centric. literally the fic that got me into zukka and atla btw. love it so much)

Fa(e)ted Encounters by OmnipotentPenmanship (bnha. todobaku. it was SO good but the ending upset me greatly.

Salvage by MuffinLance (atla. zuko and hakoda. its SO good, and my comfort fic. i love it to bits)

Seems So Easy for Everybody Else by etothepii (bbc sherlock. its abt trans sherlock and idk. it just means a lot to me)

Lost In The Darkness by BladeInTheDark (bnha. shigaraki and bakugou. actually one of the reasons i started reading bnha fics. its fucking amazing)

And to answer ur other question-

Not really. I just wanted the name to match my other acc (@theslythernmage) so i decided to be lazy and just change the last part. I dont remember the logic behind theslythernmage but its probably something to do with slytherin or smthng equally lame.

#thank you for the ask! #1-6 are ongoing fics for anyone wondering! #asks #bnha #bbc sherlock #todobaku #valdangelo #zukka #atla #zuko #dick grayson #bbc merlin #leo valdez #bakugou katsuki

[sourpatchys]

A wip that I never finished because I need to get back on that writing grind instead of rotting in bed

Title: Petals

Warning: none, mentions of blood and injury

Word count: 870

A/n: I cannot seem to figure out a good ending for this oneshot, originally it was going to be a battle of stubbornness, with the reading refusing to admit their true feelings as to not get in the way, and Shigaraki refusing to admit his feelings because he just assumed he’d be turned away. Then it was going to be just an angsty mess and I got sad writing it haha. If you’re feeling up to it let me know how you’d end this story properly, I’d love to hear it!

Masterlist guidelines

—

All it took was one touch.

The gentle caress of your hand on his shoulder accompanied by a shiny reassuring smile.

It was honestly pretty pathetic to say the least. It definitely wasn't something that Shigaraki was prepared to deal with.

But suddenly he couldn't stop thinking about you. Every move you made, every off handed gesture— everything— he paid attention to it all. It was almost as if he were in a trance, completely fixated, unable to look away.

You started to haunt his dreams, and while he was never one to shy away from nightmares, he found that the pleasant dreams you accompanied him in were much more horrific.

He had it bad, and it was all your fault.

It was easy to ignore for while— he avoided you— making Dabi or Toga talk to you instead for whatever task you were being assigned. He never answered your questions, he wouldn't even look you in the eyes.

But then you touched him again, one big hug after an accomplished mission. It almost knocked him out cold.

After that he couldn't ignore it anymore, deciding to just say fuck it and see what else there was to learn about you.

He would invite you to play games with him on his shitty old DS he managed to keep with him— he listened to your rambling over your favorite bands new songs— he watched you indulge in your hobbies and even tried them out for himself when you weren't around.

He knew it was a bad idea from the start, getting close to you, letting you give him friendly hugs and pats on the back.

And when you kissed him on the cheek as a thank you after he gave you a stupid little prize he won in a claw machine— he felt it for the very first time.

A cloudy feeling in his lungs that made his throat feel as if it were full of glass, the shards ripping his throat to shreds.

It started off slow— for a while it didn't really impact him at all, just an uncomfortable feeling brewing in his chest. It didn't slow him down, he never had to stop what he was doing— and no one even seemed to notice.

But then the coughing fits started and the petals started coming out— closing his windpipe and ripping through his body in an unforgiving rage.

Funnily enough, they were your favorite color.

To see something you loved so dearly mixed with his own blood— it honestly made him sick. You were no saint, your hands becoming just as dirty as the others as the days moved on and the league progressed— but there was nothing morbid within you. You killed to live, not to take.

By this point everyone knew something was wrong, even if they couldn't pinpoint an exact reason. He did his best to keep the petals out of sight, shoving them in his pocket or decaying them before they could even leave his mouth. The coppery taste became something he couldn't avoid, his teeth growing weak and his skin going pale.

Their oh so fearless leader was now slow, out of breath and coughing up blood seemingly out of nowhere. Really— who could blame them for being so concerned?

Especially you. The one who started it all.

He knew he was too far gone— that his days were sure to be numbered, and every moment you stood by his bedside was another year off of his life. But really— he didn't care at all. Shigaraki was stubborn, even if in the end it would mean his demise.

He was stubborn enough to keep the issue to himself and he was selfish enough to let it eat away at him— so long as you were by his side.

If anyone were to figure out his situation, to put the pieces together and diagnose his ailment from afar—he was sure they'd laugh right in his face. He had so much to do, so much to live for, and yet he allowed himself to stay dying in your arms.

God, he really was pathetic.

He hated himself for it— he wanted to hate you— but the velvety blood soaked petals shoved in his pocket were there to mock him— to tell him it was far too late for that. There was no hope of escaping, even if he had wanted to.

Your hands were always so warm, tender, reminiscent of something he had long since forgotten. You fluffed his pillow every night and brushed his hair every morning. You were no villain— you had to have been an angel dropped from the sky.

As his body grew weaker, your attention towards him doubled in size— If he had known dying was all it took to keep you glued to his side then maybe none of this would've been happening.

Had this happened only a few months earlier he would've had the damn plant removed— he would've forgotten you, buried your body along with your memory. He didn't want this, he didn't need this.

But oh how he wanted you— oh how he needed you.

You were a curse. His own personal fallen angel.

#mha #bnha #league of villains #shigaraki headcanon #shigaraki mha #shigaraki imagine #my hero academia shigaraki #shigaraki bnha #tomura shigaraki #mha shigaraki #shigaraki x reader #bnha shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #tomura headcanons #tomura imagine #tomura x y/n #tomura x you #tomura shigiraki x reader #tomura x reader #tomura shiragaki

[noodlesfics]

My Hero Academia characters reactions to their S/o wiping off their kisses

Bakugo

Are you fucking crazy!? If he gives you a kiss you better deal with it. He gets MAD. When he gives you another kiss and you wipe it off, he's going to hold your arms down and make you accept it! But when he let's you go and you wipe it off he feels like he's going to explode (haha I'm so funny)! He does feel a bit sad though and is a bit worried if he's done anything wrong.

Kirishima

No, why would you do that! He definitely starts pouting to make you give him a kiss, but that's not going to work this time. Gets super grumpy but when he realises it's prank he blushes and smothers you in kisses telling you he knows why you did it. Your so relieved, it was horrible wiping off his soft kisses.

Denki

He knows it's a prank straight away. Your being mean to him, he's going to be mean back! He avoids all your hugs and basically ignores you for the rest of the day, well at least until you give in and admit it was a prank. He fakes offense but gives you hugs and kisses to make you feel better.

Sero

He also knows it's a prank straight away. However he ties your arms up with his tape and kisses you all over! When you try to wipe them off on your shoulder, he just laughs and watches you attempt to carry out your prank. It fails miserably but you both got a laugh out of it.

Mina

You did not!? What the fuck Y/n? No that's not allowed, how dare you wipe off her kisses. She's very offended at first but realises it's a prank later on in the day. Hides the fact that she knows it's a prank from you just to see how long you can keep going.

Izuku

You have successfully broken the cinnamon roll. He's tearing up and pleading with you and asking if he did anything wrong. He's now thinking that you are going to leave him! You can't carry on the prank like this when he is in such ruins! Please hug him and tell him the truth.

Shoto

He's very offended. He graced you with his sacred lips and you wipe it off!? No no no no something is terribly wrong. Would give you the cold shoulder (I'm so hilarious) for the rest of the day and you have to deal with it. You get fed up and tell him it was a prank and he's all lovey dovey again!

Aizawa

Your really doing that? Ok sure. He just leaves you be for a few hours before he gets Eri to start pestering you. When you tell her about your little prank you ask her to promise not to tell him. However, about five minutes later the caterpillar comes into your room. He gives you a kiss and asks you not to wipe it off. You now know you can't trust Eri with promises.

Hawks

What. Y/n stop, no, that did not just happen did it? He uses his feathers to keep your arms back but when he frees you and you hurry to wipe it off he just scoffs and leaves. When he comes back pouting and with two huge buckets of chicken you know you have to let him know it's a prank. He's so happy when you tell him after, he really thought he did something wrong.

Dabi

Fuck that. It's rare that he decides to give you kisses and you chose to do this? This is completely your fault. He ignores you for the rest of the day and even when you tell him it was a prank he's still mad. Since this has happened expect even less kisses.

Twice

No why would you do that!? That's fucking stupid what the hell are you doing? No Y/n give me kisses, no fuck off leave me alone! You have left him an utter mess. How dare you. Take care of him right away Y/n, he's falling apart after you wiped his kiss off! After you told him it was a prank he did calm down but he was still upset with you.

Toga

No Y/n don't do that! She gives you a kiss, you accept the kiss. Don't you dare wipe it off! That's worse than the crimes she's committed. She will get very sad and mope around for the rest of the day. She will ask if it's a prank and if you say no she will cry. However, if you admit it's a prank she will squeeze you so tightly and ask to return the kisses that were wiped off.

Shigaraki

Has he done something? He does get angry but doesn't grab your hands just in case something goes wrong. He'd give you your space for a while but when he comes back and gives you yet another kiss that you wipe away, he's questioning everything. Please tell him it's a prank and give him plenty of kisses! Your the only good thing he has and he was terrified that he messed it up.

#anime #mha #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou #denki kaminari #sero hanta #mina ashido #izuku mydoria #shoto todoroki #aizawa shouta #mha hawks #keigo takami #dabi todoroki #touya todoroki #jin bubaigawara #toga himiko #shigaraki tenko #bakugo x reader #kirishima x reader #denki x reader #sero x reader #mina x reader #izuku x reader #shoto x reader #aizawa x reader #hawks x reader #dabi x reader #twice x reader #toga x reader

[satancopilotsmytardis]

*breathes deeply

Oof. This was a lot. Dabi knowing he should leave but he can't because he has to know just what this guy is to Shig. It doesn't really seem that Dabi knows a whole lot about the kink scene, just by the way he described everything happening.

Dabi shifting back because he gets horny and gets off to them. 🫣 I don't know how to feel. Although knowing Dabi, he's also getting off on the shame of it too. (You know the author's good when you also feel like an uncomfortable voyeur.)

Dabi realizing that he could never have Tomura that way, because he's just a cat to him. Even if he was to reveal himself, there's the chance that Tomura would hate him for lying. That and the fear of rejection that comes with the fact that he'd been lying for months. Pretty much spying on him and using him. My heart can't take this.

Oh everyone knows, whoops.

Dabi moping after the incident, debating whether to leave or not is heartbreaking. He tries to punish himself, but that makes Shig worry so he can't do that. He can't leave either because that'd hurt him too. He's stuck because it's either him or Shigaraki suffering, and he really doesn't want Shig to suffer more because of him. 😢

No! That does not mean stop being human.

Oh, we get to see how a meeting with the less favorable League members go. Exciting!

...

...

...

TANCO WHAT THE FUCK?!?!!

So AFO bribed Moonfish with flesh to kill the 'distraction' Tomura is having. And Dabi nearly died. (How the fuck could you do this to Tomura on his birthday? He did not wish for his cat to almost die.)

The only thing Dabi thinks about while dying is Tomura hurting again. His job was to make Tomura happy and he failed at that. Agajfkrbee Dabi not expecting to be sad when he dies again fucking hurts. (He knows the League will take care of Tomura, that's sweet)

"Being Onigiri was worth every pain of being Toya and Dabi because they brought him to Tomura." 😭😭😭😭😭😭 He was happy, that's why it was worth it. He didn't think he deserved happiness, and he got it anyway and didn't want to let it go. He agrees to stay alive because he's not gonna let down Tomura. Because Tomura cares and he can't do that again. 😭😭😭😭

I can now see how you made yourself cry. You made me fuckin cry too.

Recovery is a bitch. Dabi promising to do better for the League, because there's no way he'd be doing it for himself.

Dabi hating the cone like a true cat.

Toga trying to make Shig and Keiro happen because she wants the drama and she's a romantic at heart. And her getting the pet stairs. Toga is such a sweetheart. I love her so much. Dabi trying to condition Shig to hate Endeavor.

Tomura standing up to AFO. I'm so cheering for him. Especially because he tried to fucking kill Onigiri. You don't go after a man's cat.

Stain's back! Watching Spinner and Toga lose it over their idol. And Stain just not caring lol. He just shuts them both down. It's interesting to see your take on Stain, since he's never been a major part of your writing before. I adore how you write characters and Stain is no different.

Taking buttons? Oh however can Dabi abuse them? Immediately demanding treats. Not surprising. Aww a pet button, how cute.

...I'm crying again damnit. Dabi just can't. Tomura doesn't understand because he's just a cat, and Dabi wants him to know. He wants Tomura to know so bad he wants to cry only to find out he can't. My heart can't take this anymore.

Tomura admitting to bring Stain back as a bodyguard for Onigiri. Because he couldn't handle that loss again. He's nearly lost Oni twice and he's so determined to keep him around.

It's cute that Stain tells Onigiri he did a good job helping Shig. Because it really was the cat.

First babysitting job for the cat. Tomura learned his lesson with Toga and now has instructions for the treat jar. Dabi being smug that he has more hidden. His favorite button. 🥺

WHAT?! Stain knows?! You broke my brain. Officially gone. Does that mean Stain's a shifter too? Is that how he got around unnoticed for so long? I have so many questions now.

Dabi has two choices, be a dumb cat, or tell the truth. And we know Dabi isn't gonna tell the truth.

God this chapter was such an emotional rollercoaster. I ate it up though and I can't wait for more. May the Muse be with you my friend.

YES, YESS, YEEEESSSSSS!!!

Dabi was such a mess this chapter from the voyeurism, to nearly dying, to confessing his feelings, to getting found out! He was going through it!!!

Stain is so immediately done with his fan club, Onigiri is the only one who gets a pass!

Dabi does have to immediately abuse the buttons, you can bet that Shigaraki had to hide the "treat" button as soon as they brought it upstairs

I'm so excited for the next chapter and I'm so glad you enjoyed this one! Thank you so much for commenting!

#tanco speaks #asks #ask

[theetwinkleboy]

okay so random ramblings, do with them what you will.

when i was like....in the 250s/300s and seeing random spoilers about 'it's time to give up one for all' i was! sad about it! upset! because there had been no indication up to that point that like. people without quirks got to be in the story. like with mirio's storyline and the stuff in the rody movie i was like...where is the space for quirkless people to be heroes in this story, and is izuku losing his quirk going to be the death of his dream to be a hero too, etc.

but then i got into the actual final war arc and i was like. oh. Oh. i understand now. that was on me for making assumptions.

bakugou and all might's storylines addressing the ways that they hurt izuku at the beginning of the story

all might SPECIFICALLY saying 'yes you can be a hero without a quirk' right before we get to the point where izuku realizes he may need to give up his quirk

the fact that everyone is losing shit, and almost no one has been able to make any moves without giving up something in return. uraraka's bleeding out, toga might be following her, hawks lost his quirk, jirou lost an ear, bakugou fucking died and now he's got a screwed up arm and a heart that literally is causing him pain every time it beats, edgeshot has NO MORE BODY, endeavor finally reached out to his son and both of them lost arms

like. i see it. i get it now. izuku losing his quirk in the face of all that, izuku literally ripping himself apart to save shigaraki--it makes SENSE that it would come to this point, both in light of his own arc and everyone else's actions in the final war--it makes sense, storywise, even though it still makes me sad.

i just! this is silly but i just want him to be happy! he deserves it! i want him to get a happy ending, and more than that, i don't want it to be The End for him, you know? i want this story to give him an opportunity to live and grow beyond the end of it! so i'm stressing a bit.

#tt talks