#devil moonie

shigaraki isn't religious. he knows he isn't. but this, this thing right here? it's heaven. you are heaven.

tomura grips the mattress, his voice weak, unable to hold back the embarrassing whines, the absurdly pornographic gasps he lets out. you're sucking him off, you're blowing him, both his dick and his mind at this rate.

he feels weak, he feels great, he thinks he's in heaven, he thinks this is sin, he's going to die, he just learned how to live.

"please— agh, fuck, you're going to— i'm going to—"

and then you halt. and he's about to complain, whine, be a brat about this.

"what?! no! you can't just— i was so close, you're so—" you shut him up with a kiss, climbing on top of him.

you push tomura against the mattress, and the realization of what's about to come is going to kill him.

(him. he's the one about to come.)

you slip your underwear to the side, and shudder when sliding your wet pussy over his dick. tomura holds your forearm, the one holding him down, and grips the mattress. he whines. you think you're going to soak the bed, make a mess.

"you moan so pretty, tomu." you tell him, "whiney, so vocal... you're such a cute virgin."

"i— i'm not—"

you press the tip of his dick to your entrance, giving it a teasing dip before pulling out again. tomura feels like he's going to get exorcized.

"you are. look at you, my pretty boy. so good, and only for me. all for me."

gods, he almost came from words. how embarrassing is that? possessiveness is a good look on you.

you lift your hips, nudging your entrance with his dick before your own willpower crumbles. with a slam, you fully sheath him inside you. he's big, it's great, it feels amazing, you're hissing between your teeth to get adjusted.

but shigaraki? he's experiencing religion. his back arched, his feet are going to cramp from how hard he just folded, and he can't even hold back the strangled gasp-moan that left him. this is it. he's going to die.

he's not able to hold back, and cums inside you.

your eyes widen as you look down, seeing him shivering when his orgasm hits him. oh. oh your ego is off the goddamn roof now. look at that, the most feared, wanted man in japan. the symbol of fear, the decay-wielding domestic terrorist that had new pros shaking in their boots.

all that, to became a whiney mess for you.

tomura comes down of his high, blushing in embarrassment and mortification, about to say something before you shush him.

"that... was so unbelievably hot of you."

"what—" porn lied to him.

you grind on him, a slow move, and he's choking back a sob. too much, this is too much. too little. too. ugh.

"need a break?"

"no— please don't, go again, again, ruin me, break me already—" begging? he's begging.

shigaraki is begging for you to destroy him.

you do exactly that.

you're at a pace that leaves you giggling breathlessly, using his dick and praising him endlessly. shigaraki is sobbing, overstimulated and still hard as you ride him to reach heights he'd never seen. he feels vulnerably pleased, if that makes sense.

"come on, pretty boy— oh, i know you got another one in you, give it to me, come on—"

"ah, fuck! fuckfuckfuckfuck— i'm yours, i'm all yours, please never leave me, i need you, you're— oh, oh, again, i'm gonna cum again please, let me cum—"

your heart is full. you reached the peak of your existence. you're going to cum so hard, holy fuck. you tap his cheek for him to look at you. his eyes open in command, and he's whining even louder at the eye contact.

"cum for me, pretty boy. same time."

shigaraki's body halts, and he thrusts up three times as he cums, utterly wrecked. those three thrusts finally have you meeting your orgasm, and your thighs shake at the force of it. you are weak against it, grinding on his cock while your pussy squeezes spectacularly.

tomura lets you. he's ruined, and by the time you finally stop, breathing heavily, he's completely messy on the bed. his eyes are reddened, pupils blown out, lips reddened from crying and kissing too hard. his neck is a masterpiece of hickeys, bites, his chest has scratch marks on them. your doing, so it makes him feel like art.

you're about to slip out of him so you can clean yourself, but tomura pulls you against his chest. he's shaking, arms around you.

"not yet. just some more minutes, need you, as close as I can get to you. please." he says, voice raspier than before.

you're weak, and you comply, your fingers running through his hair as you hug him back.

"you did good, tomura." you tell him, pressing a kiss right over where his heart would be. "my beautiful boy."

and tomura sighs, shakily, blushing, completely disarmed.

he's so doomed, but when the doom in question is related to you...

then he's actually just victorious.

and you've caught him looking in your directions sometimes, trying to understand you. because you were so... nice? to him? out of all people? he can barely believe it when you come up to ask him about his interests and not the usual quirk potential discussions. but you're there, you're listening, and you look so calm and genuinely pay attention to whatever he's talking.

you fell first, but shigaraki fell from the top of mountain everest for you, because it was absolutely insane.

he began to get addicted to you, always seeking your approval in subtle manners (spoiler alert: dabi doesn't think he's subtle at all with his favoritism), or pairing up with you on missions. and you didn't help his case, throwing one or another pick-up line his way to watch him lose his absolutely mind and sleep at night, overthinking the actions you take.

it's fun, you say. it's fun, you think. it's fun, you assume. you think this outcome is delightful, actually.

tomura snaps his hips against yours in an aggressive, sloppy manner, and he can't even stop himself. you're moaning, you're downright screaming, and he gets to listen to it all? all those sweet sounds, those sweet tits, this sweet cunt... all for him? you're gripping the sheets with your whole strength.

his cock was fucking huge, you've seen the outline before when he wore sweatpants the other day, but to have the actual thing inside you, dragging and messing up your insides... yeah, it was breaking you. but you begged for more, cried for more, and he couldn't stop himself from his whining and rambling. you've never saw him so... talkative.

"please- fuck, you feel so good, so so good, fucking hell-" shigaraki whimpers against your ear, and he hisses at you clenching on him, "can't think, 'm not gonna last, gonna fill you up, please let me fill you, please- oh fuck!"

you try your best to tell him you're on the pill, that it's safe, but it's difficult to do it between moans and gasps. so you just nod your head rapidly, to make him get the message. and he does get it, his hips stuttering before he cums deep inside you, his body shuddering as his throat drags a low, long moan. one more hip thrust, and you followed up, pussy spasming against his cock and having him cry from the stimulation.

you barely catch your breath before you feel tomura hardening inside you again, and he moves his hips just the slighest. you're seeing stars, your body is too hot, the room feels like it's on fire, and yet? you beg for more, going against your own, protesting and overstimulated cunt.

it's a wild night for the two of you, and after officially becoming shigaraki's partner (you're still giddy about that one), there's little of what he wouldn't do for you. you want more jewelry? he's robbing and bombing a whole store for you. someone cat called you in the streets? no need to spend on cremation, the person is already just dust. you want this? you want that? tomura will flip the world upside down and destroy it, just so you can have it.

outside, he's the psycho, the mass murderer, japan's most destructive villain, the boss of the league of villains. but when like this? with him clinging onto you and whimpering as you give him a handjob, muttering endless praises to you under his breath but loud enough so you can hear it? he's shigaraki tomura, your boyfriend.

your needy, pathetic boyfriend.

confess your sins, moonie: HIIIII IT'S BEEN A LONG TIME HUH i'd like to apologize, getting into college was kicking my ass but i'm in and that's what matters <33 sorry for any grammar mistakes, english isn't my first language and i'm also extremely sleepy lol😞😞 but thank you for reading, i hope you guys liked it, and until next time, mwah mwah!!

your quirk is easy. you have a face, you have a name? your brain automatically can pinpoint where that person is, no matter the location. a pink trail shows in your vision the easiest route to go, too. it’s like you were destined to this… hobby, lifestyle, what can you call stalking a villain leader?

the only drawback are the migraines, specially when you take it too far. but oh, it’s so, so worth it. tomura shigaraki could escape the country, but he would never, ever be safe from your prying eyes. it was only destiny.

at first, you couldn’t track him, and that was almost a breaking point. what the fuck did you do wrong? you had everything, did you not? you saw his face, you knew his name, so what the fuck is going wrong you are going to kill afo if this is his fault-

and then you find out… tomura shigaraki isn’t his actual, paper name. it’s an alias. he’s tenko shimura. it only took hours searching the public archive, is the government’s security system so weak to a little trojan virus? you wanted to laugh and mock them for their incompetence.

you could cum in delight when you were able to pinpoint him, a full shudder running through your body. so easy.

you had to take a little test, just a bit for the soul. tomura was so paranoid, you wanted to soothe his nerves. a shame you couldn’t really step out of the shadows right now, hidden from sight, peeking like a creep. which you were, yes. this is love.

maybe it was a sign, a divine message. perhaps shigaraki had sinned too far, flied a little too close to the sun, and you were both his punishment and blessing. he couldn’t see you yet, but there would be a time…

once you get your hands on him? he’s not getting away.

and he better find religion in you.

that he will, there is no other choice. ₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚ is he going insane?

tomura could only summarize all of this illogic panic to paranoia, social anxiety even. he wasn’t great at talking and being in filled spaces. between a phrase and a paragraph, he wasn’t even a comma. too much hatred for humanity, barely no care for other’s views.

so why is there so much staring? the hair on the back of his neck rise in something, a hidden instinct.

what does he fear? who does he fear? he can decay anything to anyone, buildings crumble down and he wouldn’t be using even twenty-five percent of what he has to offer. this is surreal, to feel the skin of a prey and not the confidence of a predator.

in public attacks of the league, in minor attacks, in late night runs where he thinks no one can catch him. why can’t he just shut it down? who lurks in the shadows that isn’t him? he’s far deep in an alleyway and yet, there’d be someone far more hidden, dissecting him with their eyes.

in public, it’s easy to smother it down. there are way too many people looking at him, fearing him, and he wants to cackle at the sweet taste of justified victory. but when he’s alone… it still feels like at least one person is watching.

he blames it on afo, maybe he got used to being watched and constantly monitored so hard, that now he can’t get the feeling out of his system.

tomura tells himself that. not because he actually believes it, but he prefers to.

he’d have no clue what to do if this wasn’t the case.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

watching this all feels like completion.

your lucky day strikes when you search for shigaraki, already setting your quirk… and bingo, right at the gamestop where you two first met. you’re going to scream in ecstasy, higher than ever on this feeling.

you looked at your phone, open on that villain loving blog you always liked. a smirk settles on your face, show-off.

[nametag] @shiggysreligion found him again, late night run. just my lucky day <3. posted at 11:37pm, on shigaraki’s lovers - main page. — xxxxx @xxxxx op you scare me lol wtf is your quirk? google maps? xxxxx @xxxxx ugh, luckyyyy! istg, if i found compress that easily, his ass was grass already xxxxx @xxxxx pack it up every1, user shiggysreligion strikes again, why do we even try?

yeah, why do they?

picking up your pace, already seeing the sign of the 24/7 gamestop, your heart soared in the victory of finding the familiar pink trail leading inside.

loving tomura shigaraki was a great game, and call yourself a meta player.

you’re here to complete every single achievement on your list.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

shigaraki heard the sliding doors open, and his gaze fell to check who had entered the store.

it was you, again.

mindlessly looking through the games, a calm expression on your face. you looked a little confused on what to pick. it was almost cute.

should he approach? would he dare to? surely, you knew who he was now, right? even with a black surgical mask on, a hoodie that’s baggy. maybe you could recognize him as the villain on the news.

and when he’s just about to back out, you’re right by his side, hands reaching to read the back of a battle royale that became mainstream lately. tomura can smell something sweet, and then it clicks: cinnamon perfume. nice.

you turn to him first.

and break into a friendly smile.

you must be really out of your mind, or out of the internet and news channels.

“hey… you again.” your voice whispers to him.

“hi.” shigaraki internally screams at himself. he answered too fast. is he desperate or something?

but you didn’t even care, keeping a smile on your face.

“how’s it going for a villain?” oh… so you knew, you just didn’t care.

“you don’t mind?” what a dream, a pretty person not caring that he’s so, so dangerous.

“meh, villain is a title, even heroes can be bad; even villains can be good.”

now, what is this?

your mentality screams potential, your words are revolution. if there’s something as dreamy as soulmates, twin flames, mythology come alive to prove itself, you’re that. shigaraki barely catches himself from smirking. he liked that.

he thought of himself, of how he could mold you, fit you in his world. your quirk didn’t matter, even if he didn’t know, if it was useless, he could ask for a new one for you.

you were sweet enough, shigaraki pitied that you fell into a predator’s dent.

a shame he didn’t account for it being the opposite.

a lamb falls to the slaughter, but you’re not the lamb at all.

tomura shigaraki was just too prideful to see himself as one.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

it was getting late, it was getting empty, and you’ve been talking to shigaraki in a shitty, dim lit convenience store you managed to lure him to. you did all that it takes, batted eyelashes, feigned a desire for higher power.

it strikes a chord, doesn’t it?

you knew shigaraki like the back of your hand. he’s desperate for validation, he feasts on it. and a girl giving him attention? smart enough to be a villain, but dumb enough to fall for the oldest trick in the book.

“i wish i could help you,” you purr at him, “but ugh, i’m terrible at combat, defense even. my quirk is useless.”

“i’m sure that’s no problem, an upgrade doesn’t need much xp from the league.”

“really? you’d do that?” you lean closer, and the scent of cinnamon is all up at him. it feels… comfortable, like you’re already part of the team.

“i’m sure, those npcs from-”

“ah, sorry to interrupt-” he’s about to cut you off, annoyed, “lord shigaraki,” nevermind, “it’s just… that guy, on that alleyway, he’s looking at us for a while now.”

and he looked, turned his whole body.

jackpot.

with no ceremony, you jumped and pulled him back. he can’t scramble fast to take his protective gloves off before he feels the mix of cinnamon and chloroform around him.

he can’t fight it? he can’t fight it!

he… doesn’t want to fight it.

you feel as his body weaken, watch as his pupils dilate, your smell now clicks to him. pheromones, you’re using that against him. his nerves recognizes that as comfort, he’s useless against his traitorous body.

the high is priceless, the world going fuzzier and fuzzier. his eyes feel like tingling, until his whole body starts to feel that way. there is no weight, he holds no weight at this moment. it feels… nice. there is no paranoia; no anxiety; he isn’t sure if there’s even a tomura now.

and while shigaraki is going limp, he understands now.

why cinnamon is the best cover for poison.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

You're not sure where the fascination started; it feels like forever.

You heard the story over and over again. Years ago, when you were about ten years old, you saw it on TV. The Symbol of Fear, the most terrifying man Japan has ever seen, go down. What lasted of him was buried, his death was celebrated.

"Shigaraki Tomura, the Symbol of Fear, has died at age twenty-one. The Hero Commission says—"

"He was terrible, a manchild with no purpose other than destruction—"

"—justified in every action, Pro Hero Endeavor stated, backing up the claims—"

"The Hero Commission sends our best regards to his victims' families—" "Find it in ourselves to forget this dark era—" "—Continue with society and move forward, as it was—"

"A necessary ending."

The media states that, pamphlets in every history book, his name becomes a curse on the tongue. The day Shigaraki Tomura died could've been a holiday at this rate.

You envied whoever got to know him, talk to him in person while he was alive. Was he that mad? That evil? Was there truly no purpose? Villains don't just decide they're going to become one, there is always something, an objective, or a mission to fulfill.

What was Tomura's mission? What had he aimed for?

People will say it's greed for a higher power; it's envy for heroes and their idolization; it's lust for destruction by his own hands.

Theories can be made, the harder part is confirming any of them. How would they? The dead don't talk, isn't that why he was killed, too? To prevent his ideas from reaching more.

You are terribly unconvinced, and this man has been your obsession for the last years. Hidden obsession, of course.

It's not difficult to wonder, you find yourself doing that often. If Shigaraki Tomura was alive, could've he convinced you? You wanted to listen to his words, open his head and check every brain worm, see if there was any sign inside that he would turn out like... that.

It's no surprise you would frequent the cemetery he was buried in quite frequently.

The place was in the middle of a forest now. Once, it had been perfectly clean, but due to rumors of His bad energy (they are not letting him rest in peace, his name is still wicked), the frequency of visitors started to slow.

Even those with family members there started to stop going. More and more graves were covered in vines, until simply... no one had a clue of where it was. And honestly, nobody intended to find out.

Except you.

His grave is almost a mockery towards the man buried there. They aren't satisfied with just one name, it seems.

Shigaraki Tomura (Shimura Tenko)

4/4/201X — 203X

The Symbol Of Fear.

And just that.

No "beloved son", "beloved leader", "beloved man". Shigaraki Tomura went down without an ounce of love from someone.

And while it might seem logical to others, to you... it wouldn't. You've watched old clips, far back from when the League of Villains was still a thing. You could see it.

It was in the way the members acted, what the grainy cameras captured. You'd see Spinner's focus whenever he talked. How, even if seemingly annoyed, Dabi would engage in his talk. Compress's active participation, Toga's excitement, Twice's personalities stopping just to listen when he talked, the way none of them seemed stiff around him.

It was the most obvious case of found family you've seen.

Somehow, this so-called destructive, infantile, wreck of a man had managed to become comfort to some. And what is interesting is that... he became comfort for those who wanted revenge against the way society had treated them.

A domestic terrorist with a tinge of a moral ground for his allies.

How intriguing is that?

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

This particular grave became a familiar sight to you by now.

Your boots have dirt stains, your clothes feel insufficient to the coming cold. And yet... here you are, setting red carnations on this former terror's grave.

"... I wonder what you'd think, of these." You spoke to no one in particular.

Every thought escaped you when you were here, spilled out of your mouth. It felt freeing, but you would be lying if you said you wished for an answer sometimes.

"Happy death-versary, Shigaraki... Shimura? Another question, which one would you prefer?"

Raising your hand, you kiss two of your fingers, index and middle, before pressing it to his picture.

The wind picked up, and when checking your phone for the weather, you realized you had to run. A storm was going to start pretty soon.

"Sorry, I can't stay too long. I'll come back tomorrow, after work, promise."

And with that, you take off, walking as fast as you could out of that place and back to the bus stop near the forest.

When the first thunder rumbles, and when the first lightning bolt strikes down, you're already at the comfort of your home.

Far away to see the cursed miracle that just when down.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

Shigaraki's first thought when he feels consciousness again is,

"Where the fuck am I?"

Laid down, he's enveloped in something wet, uncomfortable. Mud. So he punches up, with whatever strength he has, and feels his hand reach into more mud, but now, a tinge of water streams into it.

His bones pop in place; it's disgraceful and almost agonizing. His hand (singular) grabs onto the mud. He's panicking by now, dirt everywhere, he curls into himself and—

RUMBLE, CRACK!

A flash of light hits his eyes. Before he knows it, Shigaraki opens his eyes to find himself in a hole. Concrete at the edges indicated one thing.

He's back.

Tomura moves his body with every last fiber of his body, his head up as he practically swims up in the dirt. Is this how that Lemillion guy felt like on a daily basis?

His hand manages to hold onto the edge of the crumbled piece of concrete, and by kicking some mud under him (with much annoyance), impels himself up.

His stomach hits the edge of the newfound surface. Shigaraki, with a grunt, throws his good leg over it, climbing out and falling to the ground as pathetically as possible.

He feels terrible. His leg is weakened, and he's pretty sure the other one is popped out of place. He'd fix it if it weren't for the fact that one of his hands is missing. Where the fuck did that go?

So instead of getting up, he just lies there and thinks. He recalls his final battle, he recalls his final breath, he recalls Midoriya Izuku's eyes as Tomura Shigaraki ceased in front of him.

And now... he recalls something else. It's like the two bolts of lightning awoke more than just what he remembers in life, but in death too.

A voice talking to his tombstone, commentary about daily life, normalcy, and what the world still recalled of him. Opinions based on old videos of him, of old speeches, a death-versary celebrated three years in a row.

Who, in their mad mind, had compassion towards the dead body of a man that almost destroyed this very earth he just climbed out of?

Which makes him notice. He raises his lasting hand, eyes narrowing at the green color of his nails. Ew.

He tests it, taking his glove off (they had buried him with a singular artist's glove, what did they think his dead body could possibly do?). No ceremony, he touches all five fingers on a chunk of concrete...

...

Nothing.

No dust, no decay, nothing. Shigaraki wants to laugh and scream at the absurdity.

Truly, the only time he'd be free from his curse is by dying with it. But apparently, quirks don't count once you're a reanimated corpse. He can't say he's a reanimated person; there is no rush of blood in his veins, nor the breath in his rotted lungs.

To a certain degree, Tomura is still dead.

He can't speak, and it's no wonder why, really. He finds out he has no tongue, not anymore. But truly, that's the last of his worries. Tomura doesn't have his left hand or his right eye.

All he has is a voice of someone in his head, asking him how he'd prefer to be called.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

As promised, you come back the very next day.

After having the worst case of "nosy coworker who still invites me out for drinks despite me telling no for the hundredth time", you get out of the bus in the same spot. You had your bag with you, as well as a raincoat and an umbrella. Just in case.

You make the same old way, walking through the woods with little fear. If anything, someone else would get scared off if they saw you, black raincoat on and head lowered.

But when you get there, right by the gates... There is already someone there, sitting right on top of Tomura's tombstone.

Should you leave? No, you don't. The stranger has white hair, as you see from the back, doesn't even have a shirt on, just black pants and... a red cape.

The ground there seems scattered with concrete pieces, the dirt has a weird dip... into... Tomura's grave. It's broken.

There is no fucking way.

His head turns to you, and you feel dizzy, ecstatic, and terrified. Red eye, singular. But those familiar wrinkles, even with the weared skin (you thought it'd be worse, honestly), the dry lips...

That's Shigaraki Tomura. In some lasting flesh.

You take a tentative step back... and then forward again. Your brain is both static and has too many words going on. What are you supposed to do?

Shigaraki, on the other hand, just got up and immediately started making his way towards you. Some leaves are in his white hair, a bit of smudged dirt on his cheek. But it's him. Fuck.

He stops in front of you, and you feel prompted to talk.

"... Hi." What the fuck. The guy came back from the dead, the most destructive guy that lived this century, and that's all you say?

He grunts, mimicking a hello? He... can't talk? Huh?

"You can't talk?" You ask him.

Well, this is your life now. Talking to undead boys, Mary Shelley would've loved this.

Shigaraki shakes his head, a firm no. He opened his mouth, and oh— okay, no tongue, got it. Okay. Alright.

"This— well— fuck, sorry, I'm confused. How did you...?" You gestured towards him.

He just stares at you, deadpanning.

"Ah, right, can't answer." You reach into your bag, trying to see if you have anything, and take a Sharpie out of it. "There you go."

Tomura nudges your palm (you notice now that one of his hands is missing), and you hold it up for him. He takes the sharpie, opening with his mouth and holding the cap between his teeth.

Drawing, he makes a lightning bolt symbol on your wrist. You stare at it before processing. The storm from yesterday.

"... Holy shit, science fiction was right." You then focused back on the main point, "You can't stay here. If someone finds you again, this can be worse."

Shigaraki shrugs his shoulders. Right, why would someone who died before be phased by death anymore?

"I know, no biggie for you, but this..." You smile, tentatively, "... I can't lose this chance. I got too many questions."

You shrug off your raincoat, holding it up. Shigaraki's eye widens a bit in surprise, what would be an eyebrow raise... if he had one and his muscles weren't adjusting back to life.

With your help, he takes the cape off, and you button up the raincoat on him, throwing the hood over his head. The cape he wore is now folded into your bag. His wrist, the one without his hand, is covered by the raincoat.

"Come on, I'll pay for your bus ticket." You snorted, and he just followed you out of the forest.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

It's been about a week since you've been hiding the former Symbol of Fear in your house.

The house in question was an inheritance you got from your parents, your childhood home. Not the most luxurious, but just comfortable enough to live.

The first night had been a ruckus for you two. Shigaraki didn't like writing in pen and paper, so you let him borrow your laptop for that one. You wondered how he was so comfortable with you already.

And then he revealed that he could recall some of the things you said while he was six feet under the dirt. Briefly, you wanted to jump out of the window. He didn't seem to mind.

(He couldn't say out loud to you, but he felt weirdly flattered. That even after a decade dead, someone had cared for him enough to remember him.)

You two wondered and schemed on how to get a working hand for him. Prosthetics were expensive, not to mention they'd need to measure him for a custom one. Out of question.

Deep in your mind, you wondered... if you got organic body parts...

But invading cemeteries was out of question, and you doubt there would be any lasting hand in the abandoned one Shigaraki was buried in. He had been the last one there before society completely stopped using it.

The only way to get new ones would be to kill someone.

You kept that to yourself. Hold on. While he is a former villain, you feel a bit hesitant to go there. Especially to those who haven't done anything to you, unsuspecting victims.

You know it wouldn't take long for you to change the course of your morals, though.

You were getting a little desperate to hear his voice.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

You have a headache. And it's your irritating coworker, who decided that your constant "not interested" behavior was just you "playing hard to get".

You've told Tomura about that, over dinner that you ate while he watched you eat. He had no use for eating, anyway. He gripped the knife next to his empty plate, and you understood that he was angry on your behalf.

You're ashamed to admit it made your heart skip a beat.

There is a knock on your front door, and you groan as you get off the couch. You were just updating Tomura on this decade's good movies, who would dare to bother such peace?

Tomura went to hide in the kitchen, and your heart pained momentarily. You wished you could show him off to whoever was on the other side.

Opening the door, you had to contain the displeased groan in your throat. Or worse, the screech of surprise. How the fuck did he find your house—

"Hey." He tried to sound nonchalant.

You were already dreading this.

"Hi. Something wrong with work? I left the schedule with the manager, if that's what you're looking for this time." Prevention.

"Ah, come on. You know it's not work-related stuff, it's a Saturday." He flicked his wrist. "I was just walking by, going to that coffee shop you mentioned, y'know? I listened to you."

"Uh-huh."

"And I was just like, whoa, I should invite them to come with me!"

"Sorry, I'm busy."

He peeks his head inside your house, and you nudge him to go back. He raises his hands defensively.

"Whoa, now! Come on, just curious. You're always closed off at work, I just wanna befriend you." He smirked, "Are you watching movies? I can watch with you, change of plans even."

"Look, I'm not feeling good. I'm just having some alone time."

"No, no, it's fine. But I insist, I can make you feel better, just let me in—"

"Dude, you're being creepy." You told him, pushing him off with a sigh.

"What?! I'm just trying to be nice!" Ah, okay. "I'm just trying to be a good guy, I get worried, you know? You're too quiet at work, so professional. I'm just, y'know, trying not to leave you so alone to yourself. I read in a book that it's bad for your mental health and shit." You doubt he has finished any book in his life.

"Well, I'm perfectly fine. I'll ask for help when I actually need it, and it won't be from you."

"Why are you being bitchy?"

... What.

"Bitchy?! I just don't want you inside my house, we barely talked!"

"Yeah, that's bitchy behavior." He scoffs, shoving you to the side as he steps inside, "Look, just one hour. I'll be here for an hour. I just want to make sure you're okay."

Oh... hell no, you're going to jump him.

"Can't you see that I'm just worried—"

Before you could reach for the broom behind your door, a shovel made contact with the side of his face, sending him to the ground.

You put your hands over your mouth, muffling your own gasp. Shigaraki stands right over him, looking angrier than you've ever seen in the past weeks.

"Ow! What the fuck— who the fuck—" You watch the light leave the guy's eyes as he looks up.

Before he can scream, Shigaraki has raised the shovel with his only hand again, slamming it full force against the guy's head. He's knocked out with the most uncomfortable choking sound you've ever heard.

...

"... I don't know if I should thank you or panic about the fact that there's an unconscious guy in my living room."

You rush to check his vitals. He's alive. Yay? Ugh.

"Okay, fuck, alright. No one will believe him if he saw you before he dropped. I can say it was self-defense. It technically was! He invaded my house. Where's my phone? I'm gonna call for emergency— where did you get that saw?!" You stop Shigaraki, and he grunts, displeased. "No, no, let's think more thoroughly here."

You take the guy's phone from his pocket, using his finger to unlock it. You were about to open to call for an emergency... until you notice he left his message app open, in his last conversation.

You read the following words.

"Dude, don't call me in the next hours. I'm pretty sure I'm about to get laid. LOL. Wish me luck." "Secret, though. I don't wanna tell you yet."

...

This motherfucker... he thought you were just that easy? That pliant? Dumb enough for this bullshit?

You turn back to Shigaraki. He's staring back at you.

"Tomura," You start, "Take him to the shower. It will be easier to wash off the blood then."

The pleased smirk Shigaraki gave you was wickedly satisfying.

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Your shower looked like a crime scene.

Well, it was, so you suppose it makes sense.

Shigaraki was on the last bit. With the saw, he had ripped through the skin of the guy's wrist, the bone exposed. You had to hold down the guy's forearm as Tomura used the saw.

He had stabbed your coworker in the chest, and you both had assumed it had done the finishing job.

Both of you had blood on your clothes; your favorite "stay-at-home" outfit would never be the same. And Tomura's clothes were just brand new, too.

And yet, you've never felt more alive.

The adrenaline was as sickening as addictive. You felt like throwing up, and you weren't sure if this was anxiety or excitement.

It's just when Tomura pressed his foot against the guy's wrist, and was about to break his bone, that you two heard the gurgling noise.

You looked up.

The guy's eyes were open, and he was trying to scream. The blood loss seemed to be getting to him; he was weak against your grip. But you were not taking chances.

"Fuck— Tomura, he's—" Snap.

A groan of pain, dripping blood, came out of him. You used your palm to muffle his scream, shushing him. Tomura took the dismembered hand up and looked at you. He did a motion of "hold on", probably searching for the knife to finish the guy for real.

"You missed his heart?!" You asked him in a hushed, disbelieving whisper.

Shigaraki shrugged, and you sighed heavily. Right, he was used to killing with decay, not manually.

You felt the guy under your palm twitch, trying to move. You panicked.

Your hand reached for the misplaced knife on his chest, pulling it away with full force, grunting at how it was almost stuck. Oh, Tomura had bumped against a rib. That's why.

The guy let out a whine of pain, a sob escaping him. You had to speed up the process; you couldn't just wait for Shigaraki to come back, he's taking too long!

Between the fourth and fifth rib, you recall. You trace the knife before stopping right at the point. With the tip aimed, you keep it steady before pushing the knife with all you have.

The result is instantaneous. The guy chokes on his own blood, his chest stuttering before he finally stops, his remaining hand going limp.

You repeat the move, making sure. Blood splatters on your cheek, the first fountain opened in his heart, making even more of a mess.

He's dead. Dead, killed by you.

You get up on your feet, you're shaky. You look at the dead body with wide eyes, before you turn to look back at Tomura, who has just come back with a different knife.

He stares at the body, his one eye seeming to widen for a fraction before he turns to you. He looks genuinely surprised, but not in a bad way.

He looks at you proudly, fondly.

Your cheeks are heated, and you feel out of your own body. What the fuck.

Tomura gets closer to you, wiping the bit of blood on your cheek with his right hand. There, right under your eye, he presses a light kiss.

Oh.

Oh.

You look at him in slight shock before a shaky breath escapes you, and you relax against him. He supports your weight, grunting an approval.

You did well.

You did perfectly.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

You never thought you'd be seeing this thing again, but here you are.

Deep inside your now-unclutered backyard shed, you found the malfunctioning tanning bed that once belonged to your mom's friend. She had given it away to your family for your dad to do whatever with it; apparently, it gave her a shock the last time she used it.

Your dad promised to pick on it one day. He never did.

Plugging into the outlet, you found it still lit up. So it worked.

You turned to look at Shigaraki, then at the stitched hand on his wrist. You tried not to laugh at the stupid tanning goggles in his eyes before he settled inside.

Waving at him, you closed the tanning bed. Spinning the controller, pointing to medium-tan. Now you wait.

The sound of snap! and pop! made you flinch a bit, taking several steps back. The lights went crazy on the tanning bed, one of the lamps exploding into bits.

Once it settled down, you waited. The door was opened by Shigaraki, and you were glad he at least didn't go back to a bland, dead body.

That would mean all your work was for nothing.

You helped him and looked at his hand. Tomura opened and closed his palm, a manic grin on his face. Your eyes shone, wonderous.

It worked.

It. Worked.

Shigaraki gets up in a flash, and you smile at him. He looked fascinated, checking out the brand new addition.

Tomura turned to you in a flash, and a grunt that sounded like a disbelieving chuckle escaped him. He looked... terrifyingly good, horrifyingly beautiful.

You'd do this again, for him.

You will do this again for him.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

The body disposal was, surprisingly, easy.

You bought two safety vests, and with the dismembered body in a black bag, you set it inside a wooden box. With your old, but working car, you two drove to the abandoned cemetery.

Tomura tapped his fingers against the window in time to the random music playing on the radio.

Once you two arrived, you left your car far from any lampposts. Even if there weren't cameras in the abandoned cemetery, you preferred not to risk it.

Shigaraki had been the one to carry it, throwing the box inside his own, abandoned grave. You took out the shovels, but he stopped you when you went to help.

"What?" You asked him.

He pointed at the grave on the side, patting it.

Oh.

"You... don't want me to help?"

Shigaraki shook his head, making a motion of pointing at his eye, then around. Keep watch.

"Okay."

You chuckled, but complied. You sat down. Instead, you were looking around for any signs of anyone else. You'd doubt it.

Thirty minutes pass, faster than you could count. You had been busy, alternating your gaze between the forest and Shigaraki's back as he worked.

You hear the snap of fingers and turn to look back. A smile bloomed on your face. Tomura looked smug, doing a "ta-da" jazz hands motion at the covered grave.

"Good job." You clapped your hands playfully.

He set the shovel to the side, and you barely had time to react before he had you caged between his arms.

Shigaraki's lips pressed against yours.

Time took a halt.

You kissed back, just as hungry. And while there was no tongue involved for obvious reasons, you still felt terribly hot and bothered.

Your arms laced around his neck, pulling him closer. He hummed against your lips, and that whiny sound went straight to your brain. Between your legs, you'd know you would find a surprise later.

Pulling away, you looked at his flushed face, his one eye wide. That was... sure, it was heated, but why would he look so—

Oh.

"... Was that your first?" You tried not to smirk, smug.

Tomura huffed, averting his gaze and doing a single nod. That was a dangerous thing to give to someone like you.

"Mhm," You hummed back, "... Why don't I teach you, then?"

You pulled him by the wrist, needing more than ever to go home. Your laugh echoed, victorious into the night.

You were okay with "making out" on top of a grave, but in these hoodies and vests, right after disposing of a body, at risk? Absolutely not.

And when you two arrived at your home?

You practically jumped on him the second he sat down on the couch.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

Shigaraki didn't even have time to blink before your hands were on him, lips finding his in a frenzy. You wished you could make out with him, make this sloppy, vulgar in all the right ways.

Tomura did a sound akin to a whine against your lips when you grinded against his thigh. He stopped you, shaking his head.

"Oh! Sorry, I didn't—" He pressed his index to your mouth.

Shakily, he guided your hand downwards on his pants, and then you felt it. Oh.

Of course, he'd been buried for a long time. It was obvious he would lose his... most special asset. You looked at him and smiled softly.

"That's okay, we don't have to do this if you don't want to."

Tomura shook his head, scratching his neck before pointing at you. Then, he curled his fingers, his cheeks reddened as he shyly averted his gaze.

Oh?

"... You wanna learn how to finger me?" Your ego was off the fucking roof.

He nodded rapidly. And who were you to deny such enthusiasm?

You went back to kissing him, giving your confirmation that you wanted this as well. You'd teach him. In a haste, you threw the hoodie to the other side of the room.

"Hah... fuck, okay. Don't shy away, touch anywhere. I got you."

Trembling, Shigaraki slipped one hand under your t-shirt, palming your chest. He bit his bottom lip, looking both overwhelmed and underwhelmed. It was so experimental, such wonder at your warmth.

You're unbelievably soaked by now. He groaned when you got off his lap, but immediately went back to a flustered silence when he watched you slip off your pants and underwear.

You sat down next to him, pulling him to be on top. Top only in the question of positioning, you were leading here.

Tentatively, he slipped a finger up and down on the wetness, grunting lowly at your body shudder and just how unbelievably hot you were.

Shigaraki pressed his head against your shoulder and hissed when he lifted his finger a bit, seeing the fine string of your wetness there before it snapped.

"Here, pretty boy, I'll teach you." You took his wrist, guiding his middle finger to your entrance. He choked at the sweet name.

It barely had to prod before it was slipping in. Tomura's breath hitched. You were so warm inside, and so, so relaxed with him. If he could, he'd cry out at how pleasing that is. You trust him.

He never had this before, someone so willing to love him this way.

Meanwhile, you just hissed at some of the fire calming down inside you. Not enough, though. You bucked your hips slightly, and that was enough for him to snap out of his trance.

He pulled back his finger before moving it back in. Slowly, he wanted to savor it. Fuck, he missed his dick. What a weird phrase. Back to fingering you, that thought was for later.

"Oh— nice, you're so good, add another, pretty boy—" When you called him so sweetly, who was he to deny?

He whined against your shoulder, and you opened your legs further. He was on his side, on your left, and you had your left leg thrown over his thigh.

"Yeah? You like that, huh?" You chuckled breathlessly at his neediness. "Fucking— speed it up, come on, be a good boy—"

His huffed low moan was music, right next to your ear. You reached a hand down for your clit, but Tomura whined in annoyance, using his thumb to press against it.

You could scream, almost.

"Yes, that's it— you're, hah, a fast learner, aren't you? Keep— fuck, I'm close—"

Tomura took it as a sign to speed a bit more. This thumb was barely pressing your clit messily, almost like a button, badly coordinated, but enthusiastic. And yet, you were reaching heights not even your own hand has taken you.

"Fuck, pretty boy— gonna cum, gonna cum, oh God— yesyesyesyes, come on— ah—" Your orgasm hit you like a flash.

Your back arched, head thrown back, while Shigaraki let out a whine right next to your ear. His fingers were coated, a creamy ring on them. He wanted to lick them clean. He needed a new tongue, as soon as possible.

Meanwhile, you were slowly coming back from your high, wincing slightly at the way your feet had cramped before it settled down. Your chest was heaving, and you turned to see Tomura's fond gaze at you.

He pressed his forehead against your shoulder again, breathing you in. Your hand went to his hair, carding your fingers through it.

"Good job, great job, Tomura." You whispered, and he just curled closer to you.

This was it. For Shigaraki Tomura while alive, paradise was a world where heroes weren't alive, where they were exposed for their hypocrisy.

But for Shimura Tenko, reanimated and back from the dead, you were it.

Paradise was your existence as a whole to him.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

It has been about three months since your first kill. Your coworkers obviously noticed the missing one amidst them, and his face was plastered on missing person posters. But no one could pinpoint where he had gone; his last message was a morbid memory.

(His phone's location was unknown. You had taken it with you that night you killed him and put it under the dumpster of a random house on the other side of town.)

As it turns out, you're one hell of a fast learner for such a morbid hobby. Shigaraki, though, is proud of your every move. You learned homemade chloroform, and your second kill had earned him his missing eye back.

It was difficult to find a guy with red eyes, but the convenience store guy, who didn't even pay attention to customers while he swiped their items, was just dumb enough.

Tomura had thrown an axe at the pole-mounted transformer at the end of the street, and all the lights went out in that neighborhood. You were dressed hidden enough. Even in the dark, you were incoming danger.

No one heard that guy's screams, muffled by your gloved hand. A spoon has been enough to gouge that eye out for personal use. The flash drive of the CCTV cameras went out with you, in your pocket.

You didn't bother to hide the body; you had a home to return to. Your getaway car had your man waiting for you, a pretty passenger princess.

Another successful gain.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

And now, here you were.

You had managed, days ago, to match with a guy who lived in the town over. His phone had run out of battery, and you managed to convince him to go back to your house. Just for the night, he'd be back by morning, you said. He can borrow your charger, you said.

"I just want to go back to my house... with you, please?"

It's like ringing a bell for Pavlov's dog.

Now, he was just another poor bastard, dead in your shower. You set Shigaraki's axe aside, looking at him with a sweet smile. He enveloped the cut-off tongue in a bowl in the bathroom sink.

He turned to you, and his eyes softened in your direction.

Tomura approached you, wiping his bloody thumb on your lips. Some unhinged kind of lip gloss, you accepted with no fight.

He pulled you by the arm, close to him, and kissed you. The last time you two would be kissing softly, because you're aware that once that new tongue is stitched in place, it would take an army to get Shigaraki's mouth off of you.

And people nowadays claim that romance is dead.

But how could romance be dead?

You just revived it!