#makima reader

Trying to focus, you pushed yourself off the plush bed, tiny legs unsteady and weak on the plush carpet. Drawn by an instinct you didn't understand, you stumbled towards a small, ornate vanity tucked away in a corner.

BOOM!

Another flash illuminated the room, and for a fleeting moment, you caught sight of yourself in the mirror. A face stared back, long, coily red-tinged auburn hair, framed a face unfamiliar and innocent.

However, it was your eyes that truly terrified you.

Golden irises stared back, hypnotic in the flickering light. But it was the crimson rings within them, swirling like miniature storms, that sent a cold dread spiraling down your spine.

These eyes, alien and unsettling, were the only familiar thing in this sea of confusion.

Where are you? Why did everything feel so wrong?

BOOM!

Tears welled up, blurring the vibrant clash of pink and lightning in the reflection. But even the tears felt alien—a betrayal of a body you didn't recognize.

You were adrift in a sea of your own flesh, a puppet with severed strings.

No memories, no identity, just a throbbing head, a strange pain in your body, and fear—a cold, suffocating fear that had no name.

Collapsing onto the plush carpet, you reached for the cool vanity for some semblance of comfort. But instead of finding solace, your hand brushed against a soft, frilly nightgown, another alien entity on your unfamiliar skin.

You were lost, a terrified child in a body that felt wrong, with eyes that held a secret you desperately wanted to remember.

A frantic voice cut through the cacophony of fear in your head. "Sweetheart, are you alright?"

An instinct you didn't understand made you shrink back.

The voice belonged to a woman who rushed to your side, her brow furrowed in worry. Her face, etched with lines of concern, was unfamiliar, yet there was a warmth in her eyes that practically swallowed you whole—you were a star in her desolate sky.

You wanted to ask who she was, who you were, but the moment you tried to form a question, a searing pain lanced through your head. It was easier, for now, to just let the confusion wash over you.

"Come to Mommy~" she reached out, her voice gentle but laced with urgency.

The woman—your apparent mother—sighed, her worry deepening. "Oh, sweetie, you must have been scared with that awful storm. Were you having another bad dream?"

Another dream? The term triggered a flicker of unease.  Dreams?  What dreams?

You clenched your fists, the throbbing in your head intensifying with every attempt to pull a memory from the void.

Nothing.

Frustration welled within you, a surge of anger replacing the fear. "I... I don't remember," you admitted, the words falling flat in the face of your growing anxiety.

Your mother, whoever she was, wrapped her arms around you, a gesture that felt foreign yet strangely comforting.  You didn't know how to react, your body stiff and unyielding in her embrace.

"It's alright, ____~" she soothed, her voice tinged with sadness. "Now come on, let's get you cleaned up and ready for breakfast."

The name "____" hung in the air, a word that felt foreign on your tongue—a borrowed coat ill-fitting your shoulders.

As your short and chubby mother, led you away from the unsettling reflection in the mirror, you stole a glance at her. Her burnt orange hair, once vibrant and full of life, was now streaked with silver, a testament to the years that had passed.

The curls, once perpetually escaping from any attempt at control, were now pulled back in a loose, lopsided bun, seemed to vibrate with nervous energy.

Her honey-tan skin was dusted with a constellation of dark freckles across the bridge of her nose—boring the etchings of time in the form of wrinkles crinkling around her warm, honey-colored eyes. 

Even now, a flicker of worry, a worry that seemed to have become a permanent resident, danced within their depths.

Her name, you vaguely recalled from the panicked jumble in your head, was Mei.

The house itself mirrored Mei—functional, lacking any personal touches.  It spoke of a life lived by routine, devoid of the chaos you once thrived in. The lack of toys or childish decorations was another jarring note.

Breakfast was a quiet affair.  Your 'father'—Wino, a stoic man with a perpetual peppered five o'clock shadow—presented a stark contrast.

Tall and lanky, he grunted a greeting before disappearing behind a newspaper. His electric green eyes, usually crinkled at the corners from a lifetime of suppressed smiles, were hidden behind thick wire-rimmed glasses.

His hair, once a vibrant auburn, had surrendered to the relentless march of time, turning a stark white that seemed to hold the secrets of countless unspoken words; both he and your mother appeared older than their mid-forties.

As Mei fussed over you, you picked at your food—the unfamiliar taste of fluffy pancakes, a bland echo of the delicacies you once indulged in.

Mei, oblivious to the storm brewing within you, hummed along to a children's show playing on the TV. It depicted brightly colored superheroes battling a giant, fire-breathing lizard.

You watched the scene detachedly; it was both whimsical and confusing.

"Welcome back, young heroes-in-training! Today, we're going to learn all about quirks—those amazing abilities that make our world so unique!"

A flurry of images flashed across the screen: a boy with stretchy limbs, a girl who could manipulate fire, a man who could zoom through the air.  Your brow furrowed in concentration.  This was unlike anything you'd ever known.

"Quirks can be anything from super strength to creating illusions!" the cheerful announcer continued, "It's what makes our society so exciting!"

The show droned on, explaining quirk training, hero schools, and the intricate classifications of these bizarre abilities.  You listened intently, a spark of curiosity igniting within you.

What the hell are these "quirks" they kept droning on about?

Suddenly, a booming voice jolted you from your thoughts.

"Mei, change the channel. Not much point in letting her watch that mess. She won't be developing any quirks soon," Wino sighed behind his newspaper, lowering it down with a grimace. "No use in getting her hopes up."

Your mother bit her lip, a flicker of sadness crossing her features. "But she's only five," she began, her voice tinged with defiance, "we don't know if she's actually quirkless, there's always a chance..." Her words trailed off as Wino stood up and left the room without a glance, leaving behind a lingering scent of pipe tobacco in his wake.

You watched him go, your eyes narrowing a bit. Quirkless? The word itself felt foreign, a label you didn't understand but instinctively disliked.

As if on cue, the monotonous ringing of the house phone cut through the tense silence.  Mei gave you a strained smile before hurrying to answer it.  Left alone, you wandered back to the television, the cartoon announcer's overly enthusiastic voice now droning on about the "Quirkless Woes."

"And remember kids," the announcer chirped in a condescending tone, "if you're unfortunate enough to be born without a Quirk, just remember, there are plenty of perfectly ordinary jobs you can take up! Like... janitorial services! Or... grocery bagging!" His patronizing tone made you huff in annoyance; a strange feeling, a mix of anger and confusion, began to nestle in your chest.

Being Quirkless sounded... boring.

Limited.

Unfair.

Suddenly, the cheerful theme song was drowned out by a breaking news alert flashing across the screen.

A stern-faced woman with a microphone reported on a villain attack downtown. Live footage showed a hulking man with glowing red eyes causing havoc, his bare fists shattering concrete pillars with ease.

"This is villain Catastrophe causing a rampage in the Musutafu financial district," the newscaster explained. "Heroes are on the scene, but the situation seems critical. We'll continue to bring you updates..."

Your gaze flicked between the cartoon heroes and the real-life devastation; a strange mix of curiosity and... envy? flickered within you.

These people, these heroes, could manipulate reality—defy the laws of physics with the flick of a wrist.

You, on the other hand, were utterly and seemingly ordinary.

The frustration bubbled up again, a familiar feeling you couldn't quite place. Was it the powerlessness? The lack of control? Or perhaps a deeper longing for something more, something you couldn't even articulate?

As the news droned on, Mei switched the TV off, a bright etching itself onto her face. "Come on, sweetie, let's finish your breakfast~" she said gently, "Today's an exciting day, we're learning the alphabet!"

☆

☆

Later that night, as the rain tapped a gentle rhythm against your window, you lay tucked under the covers, Mei having just left after her nightly goodnight kiss.

Staring out at the slick streets, you tried, in vain, to push past the blank canvas of your memories.

A dull ache throbbed behind your eyes, intensifying with each frustrated attempt.  Your body trembled, a cold sweat slicking your skin.

Suddenly, a sharp pain lanced through your head, and a gasp escaped your lips.

Involuntarily, your eyes flared open, an unsettling yellow glow emanating from them for a fleeting moment.  A metallic tang filled your mouth, and you reached up to your nose, feeling a warm trickle of blood.

Through the ringing in your ears, a voice, faint and distorted, seemed to whisper a name. "...Ma...ki...ma..." it repeated, the syllables blurring together before fading entirely. Each whisper senting a jolt through you, a flicker of a vision erupting behind your closed eyelids.

"...Ma...ki...ma..." The first whisper brought a flash of a pale, porcelain face, a chilling smile stretched impossibly wide across blood-red lips.

Then, darkness.

"...Ma...ki...ma..." The voice pleaded, a touch more insistent this time; and with it, it ignited a vision of slender, crimson-stained fingers wrapped around a length of barbed wire, a look of perverse pleasure contorting the unfamiliar face.

Darkness again.

"...Ma...ki...ma..." The vision that followed this plea was a kaleidoscope of horrors—a city in flames, screams swallowed by the roar of an unseen beast, and that same face, eyes blazing with a cold, predatory hunger.

A wave of nausea washed over you, and you squeezed your eyes shut tighter, willing the visions away.

The whispers began to quicken, a desperate urgency seeping into their tone. "Ma...ki...ma...Ma...ki...ma!" Each utterance felt like a physical blow, a sledgehammer pounding against the fortress of your mind.

With each beat, the visions intensified, a torrent of violence and depravity flooding your senses.

A cackle, laced with madness, echoed in the darkness. You saw twisted shadows writhe on the ground, heard the sickening crunch of bones, felt the heat of searing flames licking at your skin.

And then, her face, crystal clear this time, filled your vision.

The pale girl, the crimson smile—Makima.

Her eyes, once a mesmerizing crimson, were now a bottomless void, devoid of any humanity.

"Makima!" The final whisper arrived in a shout of despair, resonating with horrifying clarity, shattering the last vestiges of your resistance.

Your pupils dilated, a single word echoing in the vast emptiness—Makima.

It was a name, a fragment of who you were, but it offered no explanation for your current existence.

Slowly, the tremor subsided, the yellow glow in your eyes receding, leaving behind a chilling emptiness.  Fear melted into a strange sense of clarity.

You were Makima, but you were also ____.

Calming your ragged breaths, you tested the name on your tongue in a low, raspy whisper. "Makima..."

It held power—a chilling familiarity—but it felt distant, alien.

____, the name your mother called you, felt more comfortable, more like your own.

Yes, you decided; you were ____.

You didn't know who Makima was, but you would find out. And in the meantime, you would carve your own path in this world, as ____.

A determined glint flickered in your eyes, a spark of defiance against the unknown future.

A/N: EECKKK!! I'm so hyped for this, lol. Just get ready for all the fan-service cuz y'all know i love being delusional, lololo

at first, gojo’s first impression of you, was how calm and collected your composure was with some joking antics here and there. you were mostly there just in case gojo wasn’t able to be there with them.

in general, gojo thought you were trying to compete with him because of how you came close to strongest sorcerer (selfish).

i don’t have a grasp understanding of how you two became friends, actually… i don’t think you would necessarily be friends, more like people who trust eachother, have eachothers back and holding respect for each but at the same time, you two don’t trust eachother.

it’s a weird friendship, though, sometimes you two got along, talking and joking around. the next thing you know, you two are ignoring eachother like you never even knew the other.

the concept of friends didn’t scream anything to you, friends didn’t come close to you with how you picture him. in shorter terms, you saw most people like pawns, a means to your plans. gojo was just there.

most of the times, he annoyed you a lot, you could see the way nanami didn’t want to step an inch to gojo (considering how he’s younger than gojo, yet looks older then him. how odd?).

despite everything you two go through as teachers and partners, there are no growth in your “friendship”, as both of your students call it. it’s not what you’re expecting but from the beginning, gojo has had an off feeling about you.

the first time gojo witnessed your technique, was during the shibuya arc; where he massacred a bunch of transfigured humans. you were there helping him, after all, what type of person would you be?

as i said, even though you’re not necessarily friends, you two still have eachothers back.

development!

when time passes, there was a feeling in your stomach whenever you would hang around with gojo, that shoko would explain to you as ‘fondness’.

he was starting to look more like a friend than just a pawn, a nauseous (that didn’t change actually). though, he doesn’t automatically get a pass because the two of you started to call eachother actually friends.

the trio saw the way you two were always with eachother, technically glued to eachothers side and always being there for the other.

gojo, still ever being hungover his ex, saw just a glimpse of him in you, that was partially the reason why he grew closer to you but at the same time, he grew worried that something might happen to you.

without a doubt, even though he’s a complete cocky, egotistical, idiot of a man, his one weakness is his big heart. that’s the first thing you noticed about him. it wasn’t his looks, his energy, or how he was the strongest, it was his big heart that he so desperately tried to hide away.

there’s development to both parties.

you, started to think of him like an actual friend, someone you cared about, and no doubt about it, someone you would sulk over if he ever disappeared.

gojo, who— praying to the lord— for once, will try to get over his ex when he’s with you, there’s something about you that makes everything that’s happening disappear, he needs comfort, you provide that to him.

relationship!

oh boy. why would you ever date him?

how did you even start dating him?

yet again, i don’t have a grasp understanding on how the dating started but i could give a brief explanation of how the feelings developed from there on.

the fondness you get from being around him developed into something where, if he ever got hurt or someone said something to him, you would go ballistic.

he’s someone you genuinely started to cherish and for someone to say or do anything to him would send you to a toxic state. it’ll have him a lot of time to convince you not to harm this person or curse.

eventually, the feelings than letter on developed into, again, what shoko would explain to you, as love. you had rejected the idea of love for ages because you thought you weren’t able to ever feel it. gojo proved that wrong.

gojo’s a nauseous to be around, but knowing him for quite some time made him into a pleasing nauseous. gojo started to pick up that your starting to enjoy bringing around him that he started to tease you about it.

you wouldn’t lie and say the teasing was annoying, it was but it wasn’t the same annoying as before.

when gojo started to fall for you, he quickly tried to bury it before it got out of hand. remember that breakup scene at the kfc? yeah… he doesn’t want that again. let alone fall in love again.

he already lost geto, he can’t lose you. everything he’s ever loved and didn’t want to lose, is lost the moment he gains it.

though, he’d drop signs, massive signs or just small signs, they’re there. even though of what i just said, he’s whipped for you. so down horrendous, my lord.

when you two do get in a relationship, gojo’s touch starved and it shows. he needs to have some sort of contact with you or he’ll sulk in a corner. for a matter of fact, if he doesn’t get atleast 5 kisses each day, he’ll ignore you out of spite until you do kiss him. that’s when he gives you a kiss attack.

i won’t go deep into the intimate details, you can dream about those yourself but i will say, he’s fucking crazy in there (and so are you!)

you’re absolutely spoiled by him, he loves you so why not just give you everything. regardless of that, he knows both of you don’t have enough time, so he tries to make it count by making you happy.

he loves the sparkle in your eye when he surprises you with gifts you adore.

the same goes for you, knowing he’s touch starved, you try and shower him in affection as much as you can before the two of you depart on missions that don’t involve you two partnering up.

knowingly enough, pda is a must in the relationship. though, gojo will stop if you don’t like it, he’s a dick but he’s a good dick (no pun intended).

even though, there’s not enough time and both of your lives are on the line since you’re jujutsu sorcerers, you’re both grateful you had enough time to confess.

oh, and gojo swoons over you, annoying megumi when you’re not there.

Leaning down even closer, you brushed the tip of your nose along the side of his wounded face, the metallic tang of blood mingling with the adrenaline thrumming in the air. The contrast of your smooth skin against his rough, blood-stained flesh sent a spark of something dark through you.

❝Oh, you haven't seen a real issue yet~❞you purred, your voice dropping to a seductive whisper, the sound sending shivers down his weakened spine.

Slowly, you trailed your nose along the contours of his jawline, stopping just a hair's breadth away from his own. ❝Not by a long shot,❞ you breathed, your voice barely above a murmur. Then, with a final, teasing touch, your nose bumped against his.

With a final smirk, you reached out, your fingers brushing against his temple. Before Aizawa could react, you took control. His eyes, glazed and unfocused, flickered once before glossing over completely. His jaw slackened, his body a puppet on a string.

You had seized the reins.

..... ... ..... ━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━ ..... ... .....

Humans.

Oh, how you despised them.

As the Control Devil, you couldn't help but see them for what they truly were: inferior pests that belong beneath your thumb.

So imagine your surprise that you found yourself dying at the hands of one and waking up in a world where 'Quirks' define one's worth, with no recollection of who you were.

But as whispers of your past life soon began seeping through the cracks of your new reality, you decided that a life without your reverend Pochita wasn't a life worth living.

So the question remains: What's left for you to do? ..... ... ..... ━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━ ..... ... .....

╭─↬ ❗𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆❗ ↫─╮ There will be mentions/descriptive scenes of the following:

╭ ⁞ ❏ Strong Language ┊ ⁞ ❏ Stalker-Like Tendencies ┊ ⁞ ❏ Toxic and Manipulative Behavior ┊ ⁞ ❏ Graphic Gore and Violence ┊ ⁞ ❏ Apathetic/Antisocial Behavior ┊ ⁞ ❏ Minor and Major Character Deaths ┊ ⁞ ❏ Yandere Tendencies

🔺 Reader Discretion Advised.

Lol, I don't know if I got them all, so if you see anything I didn't list, come back and comment right here so I can add them to the list later ➡

Enjoy (•͈˽•͈)

𝐩𝐬𝐬𝐬𝐭, 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: Though this may be a various!bnha fic, MC will most likely be with 1-2 people; may the best yanderes win 😈

Wino remained a distant figure in all this, keeping his interactions with you brief and impersonal. Sometimes, you'd catch him stealing a glance your way—a flicker of something unreadable passing through his gaze before he quickly retreated behind a curtain of newspaper.

Despite, or perhaps because of, your sheltered life, a fierce independence bloomed within you. You devoured the lessons Mei presented, your mind a sponge soaking up knowledge.

You craved understanding, a way to make sense of the world beyond the four walls of your home.

One afternoon, as you were diligently building a tower with colorful blocks, the sunlight streamed through the window, casting a warm glow on your focused face.

The air was thick with the aroma of baking cookies, courtesy of Mei, who was humming cheerfully in the kitchen.

Suddenly, the gentle hum was replaced by the familiar blaring voice of a cartoon announcer on the television.

You glanced up, the frown furrowing your brow mirroring the one now etched on the face of the overly enthusiastic cartoon hero plastered across the television screen.

The hero, clad in a flamboyant costume that seemed more of a hindrance than a help, was pummeling a villain whose entire power seemed to be an unfortunate case of bad hair.

"And that, my friends," the announcer boomed, his voice dripping with condescension, "is how a proper hero uses their Quirk! Now, let's talk about those unfortunate souls who weren't blessed with such amazing abilities."

A familiar heat pooled in your chest, a simmering resentment fueled by the announcer's patronizing tone.You weren't 'unfortunate'—you were ____.

And you wouldn't be belittled like some charity case.

The announcer, completely oblivious to your internal dilemma, continued his spiel. "Being Quirkless doesn't mean you can't contribute to society," he chirped, his voice laced with a saccharine sweetness that made your teeth itch.

You rolled your eyes, grumbling under your breath, "Yeah, contribute by being a glorified dog walker."

You spent the next few moments trying to drown out the annoying voice, focusing on meticulously placing the final block atop your ever-growing castle.

You stacked them with an almost obsessive focus, each piece a silent rebuttal to the announcer's words. But you couldn't drown him out forever.

"And remember, kids," the announcer declared, his voice adopting a sinister edge, "if you're Quirkless, no point in attempting to do the impossible. You're better off understanding your role as a citizen in society. Don't become a burden!"

Slowly, you raised your head; your eyes narrowed to pinpoints as the last line echoed in your head.

Burden? A scowl thundered across your face, erasing any trace of childish amusement. A low growl, more animalistic than human, rumbled from your chest.

Everything went silent around you, the only sound being the frantic drumming of your heart.

Unbeknownst to you, your eyes once again began to glow an unsettling yellow.

A blinding flash of static suddenly erupted from the television, scrambling the image on the screen into a distorted mess.

You were so engrossed in glaring at the screen—your mind running miles a minute with internal arguments about how you weren't average and wouldn't be belittled—that you didn't notice your mother rushing in.

The static intensified, morphing into a horrifying, demonic screech that sent shivers down your spine. The air crackled with unseen energy, and the hairs on your arms stood on end.

Suddenly, with a deafening pop, the television went completely black. The room plunged into an eerie silence, broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen.

You blinked, your heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs.

Slowly, you turned your head to find Mei standing frozen in the doorway, her face etched with a mixture of concern and confusion.

The silence stretched on, thick and heavy. Mei, finally breaking free from her shock, ventured towards the lifeless television.

"Well, I guess that means it's time for an upgrade?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper, as much a question to herself as to you.

☆

☆

Warm bubbles tickled your skin as you leaned back in the tub, tilting your head to allow Mei to lather your hair with shampoo. Her gentle hands worked the suds in, a soft smile lighting her face.

"You're unbelievable, sweetie~ You managed to finish all the multiplication flash cards in record time!" she chirped, her voice tinged with a touch of awe. "Honestly, ____, you're learning so fast, I'll have to find some more challenging material soon!"

Her praises usually fill you with a sense of accomplishment, a validation of your efforts. Today, however, it triggered a different thought.

She was right...you weren't like the other children—like the ones in the grainy television shows you occasionally glimpsed at or the ones you saw playing from your window.

They were carefree, giggling as they chased each other down the street, their quirks a vibrant kaleidoscope of color and powers.

Mei continued, blissfully unaware of your internal turmoil. "Maybe we could even tackle some basic science concepts next! Wouldn't that be exciting?"

Exciting wasn't the word you'd use to describe your current mood.

You tilted your head back, allowing Mei to rinse out the soap. As the cool water cascaded down your face, you squeezed your eyes shut, picturing those same children once again.

You weren't like them.

They interacted with ease; their world filled with laughter and adventure.

You, on the other hand, were a mystery, even to yourself. The yellow glow in your eyes, the distorted television, the demonic screech—these weren't normal occurrences.

A shiver ran down your spine, but it wasn't entirely from the cool water rinsing down your face. A chilling realization settled in—the world you inhabited felt small and stifling.

A question, heavy with unspoken fear and a strange, exhilarating thrill, began to form in your mind: What exactly were you?