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“Alright.” You stood from the barstool and snatched Shiggy by the hoody. “Let’s go.”
“You aren’t allowed to leave here.” He groused.
“Shut the fuck up, were going to the mall.” You shot back, a note of fondness in your quip.
“No.” He mewled.
“What am I going to do?” You huffed. “Try to escape?” You crossed your arms. “Oh, sure! Because I haven’t been implicated in a ton of your crimes, and I certainly don’t have a weird Stockholmy found family thing going on with you bastards.”
You stared one another down.
Your face melted first; a pout spreading across your face. “Shiggy.” You whined. “Pleeease.”
“Don’t call me that.” He huffed, looking away with a blush. “You know I hate it.”
“Then why does it make you all soft and blushy?” You smiled softly.
“Shut up.” He walked past you; towards the door.
You turned to keep an eye on him as he passed, perking up. “Are we going?”
He grumbled back at you.
You bounded after him; wrapping arms around one of his arms, fists still shoved in to his hoody pockets.
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“What are we doing here?” He grumbled as you stood in front of the hobby shop with him.
“I have a theory.” You chirped up at him, grinning. “We’re gonna test it! Ok?”
“Whatever.” He scoffed, looking away from your bright smile as a blush spread across his sour face.
You drug him in to the store and found the drawing materials, scouring the isles for what you were on the hunt for.
“There they are!” You nearly squealed when you spotted the artists gloves.
You snatched a box from the bottom shelf; an absurdly expensive, snazzy looking pair that you eagerly pulled from the packaging. “Here!” You held it out to him. “Put this on!”
“What?” He glared through narrowed eyes. “Why?”
“Just do it!” You giggled.
He scoffed, “Fine.” He snatched the glove out of your hand and slid it over his fingers.
“Ok.” You looked around the isle, settling on snatching a pink eraser off a nearby shelf and handing it to his newly gloved hand. “Now, try to dust it.”
He looked at you, confused, but closed his fist around small pink piece of rubber.
His bored face turned puzzled.
He opened the hand, the eraser still there.
You gasped, and giggled in delight. “Shiggy!”
He closed his hand again. Opening it, the eraser un-dusted. He began clenching and unclenching his fist frantically. He looked terrified above all else.
He changed hands, grasped the eraser tightly in his ungloved fingers, opening the hand, revealing a pile of dust that wafted to the floor.
He gaped at the glove.
You giggled again. Turning back to the shelf and grabbing for the fancy looking gloves, you ripped another one from its box holding it out to the stunned man.
He put the second glove on methodically, and reached for a packet of nearby pencils with the newly gloved hand. He wrapped all five fingers around it. Nothing happened.
He looked on the verge of tears.
You crowded in to his space. “M-may-maybe you can finally hold someone’s hand,” you blushed – too close to his face, looking away from him. “I know – I know that – you know – you want to – do that.”
His breathing was frantic, his pulse visible in the bulged vein on his temple.
His hands trembled violently as he raised it to your cheek, he pressed his palm to your face. It stunned you at first, but you melted in to the touch.
His eyes welled. “You feel so nice.” He breathed.
You blushed, pulling away from the touch. “Don’t say silly things like that.”
He crowded you against the shelf. “The only hands I want to hold are yours.”
“Come on Shiggy.” You scoffed. “Don’t say things you don’t mean. Were friends, I just – I mean – you do nice things for your friends.”
He stepped away. “So you don’t want me?”
Your body fallowed his presence absentmindedly. “Shiggy, I – I just. I’d like you to like me because you like me. Not – not, you know, because – because I’m just the closest body while you’re riding this high.”
He looked at you blankly. “I don’t know how to argue with you.” He wrung his hands.
“Just – just tell me what you’re thinking. What ever it is.” You bent forward, looking up at his bowed head.
“I – you –” He examined his hands. “I don’t know how to tell you how I feel, because I don’t know what I feel, I just know you are so important to me. You treat me like a person. But, this just – I thought – because you” He heaved a sigh.
“um – you thought about this.” He held up his hands. “You thought about how I could touch you – no not you” He corrected immediately “Just someone, right? But I was hoping it was, to – well, to touch you. I thought for a moment that you thought about this so I could touch you and I was hoping that this meant you felt about me the way I feel about you. But that’s dumb, I’m mean to you – why would you want me to – to touch you – to, um, to love you.”
“Shigaraki.” You grabbed his hand. “Hey.” And forced him to look at you with a hand on his chin. “Do you really want me – to, like – to love you?”
He swallowed, tears in the corners of his eyes. He looked away, pulling his chin from your gentle press of fingers.
“Shigaraki.” You breathed.
“Please stop calling me that.” He croaked.
You flinched.
“Just – please don’t stop calling me ‘Shiggy’. Or –” He cut himself off, swallowing hard.
“Or what?” You pressed.
“Or Tomura.” His blush deepened.
You’d noticed the weird looks of passersby, but this – this felt so much more important. You were cognizant that it could only be for so long though; Shiggy was too well known of a villain to go unrecognized indefinitely.
You cupped his face, forcing him to look at you. “You don’t hate me?”
He looked so ashamed. “What if – what if I hurt you?”
You'd gotten caught up in the moment; you brought the other hand up, cupped his face between both hands, and pressed your lips to his. The contact elicited a softly moaned sigh from you. His lips were dry, but his Eczema hadn’t been as bad since you’d been forcing the special medicated chap stick and lotions you found on him. You’d wondered why he hadn’t dusted you any of the times you stuck your hands up the back of his sweater and rubbed the cream in to his well-muscled back, or when you’d grab his chin and swipe the chaps stick over his adorably pursed lips. It occurred to you, as your lips slid across his, that those little moments may have been turning him on as much as it turned you on; that thought made you positively giddy.
You felt his already elevated pulse pound faster in his neck. His hands pressed against your hips, pulling you in to him and digging his fingers in to the soft flesh.
One of his hands slid on to the back of your neck, his thumb running little circles through the baby hairs there. He sighed against your lips, trembling as his fingers clenched and unclenched.
A sharp gasp brought you both out of the bliss.
You tore apart to find a woman gawking at you and Tomura. You were both breathing heavily and wrapped in one another’s embrace. You looked back to Tomura, his hood had fallen. You grabbed at it, pulling it back over his grey mop.
“Fuck.” He huffed. He went to take off the glove, pulling away and beginning towards the woman.
“Tomura.” You scolded. “No.”
“What else would you like me to do?” He whined back at you.
The woman took the hesitation as a chance to bolt.
“Great.” He rolled his neck back to face you with a growl. “Now were in trouble.”
“No no!” You squawked; yanking a couple of handfuls of different glove styles off the shelf and tossing it in the little canvas shopping bag you’d been given as a freebie somewhere else in the mall.
“Come on!” You grabbed his arm as he put the glove back on. “Let’s get out of here.”
You passed the woman speaking to a security guard, gesturing wildly at you and Tomura. “Shiggy.” You cooed. “I’m going to take care of this. Ok?”
He grabbed your arm before you could walk away.
You handed him the bag and chirped; “Baby, go get us some boba, ok!” Loud enough to be heard by the frantic woman.
You bounded over to the guard and the woman. You bowed immediately “I’m so sorry.” You moaned. “My – my bo- Husband” You took the creative liberty. “and I are, well – oh boy. This is so embarrassing! We’re expecting.” You ran a hand over your tummy. “He’s just been so handsy and protective and he’s an artist creating a work for our little one. I’m so embarrassed, but we just got carried away. I’m really so sorry.”
The woman still looked scared, and the officer looked stern – but it was covering a bemused and almost fond expression. “This woman” The officer began with a gesture at her. “Say’s your ‘husband’ looks like the Villain Tomura Shigaraki.”
“Oh my gosh!” You chirped
“He was going to kill me!” She shrieked.
“Oh No!” you protested. “He was going to apologize. He just, he has such a stern face. I tell him all the time he should smile more.” You kept a hand on your tummy for good measure. “But he really is a sweetheart. I – I can assure you that he was just going to apologize.”
“But that hair!” She shrilled. “That face.”
“Face?” You looked to the officer, mustering tears. “He – he ha’s a condition that has left some –” You buried your face in the hand not occupied with your tummy, a giggle disguised as a sob, your lie just getting more ridiculous. “I’m so sorry if he scared you. Its why I tell him to smile more. And he’s – this has happened before.” You 'sob', shoulders shaking. “He – he doesn’t look anything like that villain! But, but because he has, because he looks mean, people make accusation because he has the same color hair. He shouldn’t have to cover up just to go out of the house.”
“Now now.” The officer patted your shoulder. “Please apologize to your husband for us.”
You nodded, still hiding your face. You turned away, keeping yourself covered. A proper grin spreading across your lips as the officer admonished the woman.
‘Oh boy’ occurred to you ‘I’ve been hanging around villains for too long at this point.’ You bounded off and made your way back to Shiggy though.
“I took care of it.” You chirped.
Tomura turned around, two boba teas in hand. “Oh, I didn’t expect you to actually get some.”
“Eh.” He held one out to you. “I just swiped an ‘unclaimed’ order.”
You rolled your eyes, but took the one he was offering anyway.
“That one’s Taro, your favorite.” He looked away, lips still wrapped softly around the top of his straw.
“What did you get?” You smiled at him despite yourself.
“Just brown sugar milk tea.”
“But you prefer Taro too!” You cooed, holding it out to him with furrowed brows and big eyes.
“I wasn’t in the mood for it.” He quipped; dismissively moving on. “How’d you handle it?”
You had a warm feeling in your tummy from his offering of his favorite milk tea flavor; you responded with an uncontrollably cheerful grin. “I told them that my deformed husband gets mistaken for that dirty Villain so often, and they’d have to forgive us for making out in the hobby store because he’s just been so handsy and excited lately.” You leaned back to rub your belly. “You know, because of our baby.” You laughed.
He nearly choked. “What?” His raspy voice came out strained. “Was all that – what? Why?”
“Because who can resist a sobbing pregnant lady!” You pressed in to his space, pecking a kiss to his jaw that made him blush.
“Still.” He groused. “‘Deformed’?”
“I think you have a very handsome ‘deformed’ face.” You cooed.
He blushed harder. “We should get out of here.”
“Sounds good to me.” You smirked, wrapping your arms around his free arm. “Daddy.” You added; patting your tummy mockingly.
He grumbled, flustered, but both of you found contentment in the silence as you sipped your boba and made your escape.
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“What are those?” Toga chirped at the gloves on Tomura’s hands.
“They're –” You began, only to be cut off by Tomura.
“Shut up.” Shiggy huffed at Toga, grabbing your hand fully. “Just – just leave us alone for a while.”
The entire room gaped at Tomura’s hand clasped in yours.
He pulled you towards the hall of bedrooms, and to his at the hall’s end.
The door had hardly closed behind him when he was kissing you softly, with a gentle hand on your cheek. He pulled back, just brushing his lips over yours and letting out a soft needy sigh.
He swallowed around a lump in his throat. “Your lips are – I – I love you.”
You went rigid.
“I – I – I’m” He stepped away. “Did you not – um – not want to – to hear that?”
“I just – Tomura – I can’t believe such a wonderful man loves me to.” You crowded back in to him. “I love you to, Shiggy.” And crashed your lips to his.
Your kiss was needy and heated.
He crowded you back against the bed, toppling you back on to the mattress. His half-gloved hand slid up your shirt. He shivered, on his hands and knees above you, and whimpered.
You cupped his face in both hands. “What do you want, sweetheart?” you cooed sweetly.
“I – I don’t know.” He choked out the words, looking away from you.
“Just tell me.” You pressed softly. “I wont be upset, what ever it is. Baby, I probably want the same thing.” You bit your lip as your cheeks warmed further and slid a hand down his throat, pressing it in to his chest, the other hand pressing against his cheek; urging him to look back at you.
He sighed. “I want to touch every inch of you, and – well – and I – I want to be inside of you and taste you.” He found the words, and you saw the panic rise in his eyes as he couldn’t stop them from spilling out of his mouth. “I want to – to try all the things you’ve made me think about. I – but – I, well, you know I’ve never really –” He trailed off and pulled away from you, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to you.
You sat up reluctantly, pressing in to his arm.
You didn’t have to say any thing before he began offering more information. “Sex has just been, well rare and just – well – just sex.” He shrugged. “I bet I’m not any good.” He scoffed humorlessly. “I could never make you happy.”
“Shiggy.” You pressed a finger to his chin, pulling it towards you. “Tomura.” You corrected, looking in to his glassy eyes. “Baby boy, I think you’re overthinking this.”
You gave him a chance to respond, but he just looked back to the ground.
You sighed. “If we need to, we’ll figure out the sex stuff, it probably won’t be perfect the first time; but baby, that’s ok.” You grabbed his arm tighter, nuzzling in to him and placing a hand on top of his; lacing your fingers through his. “But that’s not really true,” You giggled.
That caught his attention.
“It will be perfect.” You changed course.
He just growled under his breath; it was an annoyed sound.
“It will be. It will be because it is you, I finally get to have you.” You smiled up at him with all the warmness you felt in your heart.
There was a fond silence while you smiled up at him while his thumb stroked over yours. He looked back at you, love in his eyes, but a pout still set on his lips.
“I – I don’t think I’m ready to disappoint you.”
You didn’t let him go on, adding a protest. “You aren’t going to!”
He scoffed. “I – can we – um – maybe, just, cuddle?”
Your grin grew impossibly wider. “Oh, of course, anything that lets me touch you.”
You pulled off your top layer, “Shiggy?”
He was busy watching your sweater fall off of your shoulders, just murmuring an affirmative.
“I should run to my room and change.”
“No!” He rasped; a flustered tone in his voice and the glint of an idea in his eyes.
He almost sprinted to the pile of laundry in his chair and pulled out two pairs of sweats and a long sleeve shirt. “Here.” He held out one pair of sweats and the shirt.
“Shiggy.” You groused. “These aren’t going to fit me.” You blushed, covering your least favorite parts of your body with your arms subconsciously.
“I want to see you in my clothes, I – I want – ” He thought too intently. “I want you to look like you're mine.”
You took them apprehensively and silently.
He smiled as you took the change. Staring at you with a stupidly fond expression.
“Do you want to watch me change?” You giggled awkwardly; you weren’t sure why you’d become so uncomfortable, you were ready to have this man fuck you five minutes before, but something about him desperately wanting you to look and feel claimed – well – it made you giddy and nervous and fond and scared and so so in love, but above all the clothes in your hand were going to highlight your worst features and you prayed this man would still want to see you naked after seeing you in these pajamas.
“OH!” he jumped at your words. “No – No!” He turned around on a dime, and held up the second pair of sweats. “You turn around too, ok? I’m going to change too.”
You did as much, fondly smiling at the uncharacteristic bashfulness, but glanced over your shoulder as his pulled his shirt over his head. His scarred back was well muscled; you’d seen it a thousand times before, but something about knowing it was yours now made everything feel so different.
You were slowly working on your own top, and took the time to take your bra off and slip the shirt he’d given you over your head. It smelled like him, like lavender and a touch of sweat and the mildly medicinal scent of that one eczema cream you’d found to work for him. It had been worn, it wasn’t freshly washed, but you hadn’t seen this one, it must have been one he only wore to bed: that thought gave you butterflies. He gave you a top he only wore to bed, it was a weird thing to fixate on, but you did.
You unbuttoned your pants, peaking over your shoulder again. He’d dropped his jeans to the ground and his bare ass met your gaze. You squeaked a little sigh, snapping your head back forward, but not before he caught you.
“I think I deserve a peek too.” He chuckled.
But when you turned to look at him, he wasn’t looking at you. Just pulling the sweats up and keeping his eyes on the far wall.
You quickly changed pants. The new ones were ill fitting; you covered yourself where it made you feel the worst, legs pressed together awkwardly. When you turned around to face him you found him respectfully still looking at the wall.
“I thought I owed you a show?” You teased.
“I’d rather wait until you give me permission.”
“Well now I feel like an ass.” You whined.
He huffed a chuckle, “Can I see you in my clothes? I’ll forgive you for the peeping if I can.”
You harrumphed at him.
“Does that mean I can turn around?”
“Yes!” You drew out the word.
He turned; shirtless, and hands stuffed in to the sweat pants pockets. His breath sounded more like a whimper.
“I know.” You misunderstood the noise. “They don’t fit at all. They’re just too [short/long/tight/loose].”
He scrunched his brows together. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m just too [whatever you’re self-conscious about].”
He pulled you in to him. “That’s not true.” He rasped. “You’re the most perfect person I’ve ever seen in my life. Seeing you in my favorite shirt.” He shuttered a breath. “Fuck. You’re so hot. Oh man –” He pressed your upper body against him harder with a hand between your shoulder blades. “You’re not wearing a bra. It’s so hot.” He smirked on the end of his sentence.
You felt shy in his arms.
He pinched your chin softly; forcing you to look at him. “You’re gorgeous.” His words were punctuated by a chaste peck to your parted lips.
“Can we just cuddle now?” He cooed, lips still just millimeters from yours.
You looked up and nodded “Uh-huh.”
He grabbed your hand, looking to your clasped fingers fondly, curling the two gloved fingers in to the back of your hand. He pulled you to the bed: it was sparsely adorned, he kept it that way because of how often he used to dust pillows and blankets. While he'd largely grown out of the traumatic habit, it still happened from time to time.
He noticed the single pillow on his bed and blushed, leaping off the bed while you were still crawling up the mattress.
He went to a neatly folded pile of blankets and pillows in the corner of the room. It made your heart clench; his nightmares must have been bad lately for him to be prepared to replace his bedding. You couldn’t help but be surprised at the neatly made bed and folded spare blankets. You loved him, but he was a gross dry gamer boy on the surface, so his smell of lavender and made bed and the moment he always took to align his shoes at the door never stopped surprising you.
You always got the feeling that Kurogiri did his best with Tomura; did his best to raise Tomura to respect himself and take care of his own basic needs. Part of you thought Kurogiri always expected to disappear from Tomura’s life one day, and probably worked so hard to make sure the boy he was forced to adopt could manage taking care of himself.
Shiggy returned with an arm full of pillows and blankets. “Here!” He tossed them on to the bed, and went to arranging them.
You just watched him with a fond giggle.
He looked back at you and smiled; blushing furiously over the nest he was constructing.
He’d piled the pillows in a way he’d found satisfactory, and turned, plopping down in to the pile and looking up at you expectantly.
You crawled in to his space, pressing a kiss to his cheek that made his flustered blush turn bashful. You nuzzled in to his bare chest, sitting on your hip between his legs, your body pressed against his for as much contact as possible.
He pulled a blanket over both of you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, and wrapping you in his embrace.
He buried his face in your hair, you could feel the soft smile on his lips pressed to your head. His breathing sounded like he’d never been so relaxed; each exhale was practically a sigh.
His pinkies never pressed in to you as his hands roamed across your arms and sides and hips. It made you a little sad, but you didn’t want to point it out – didn’t want to embarrass him. The habit made him comfortable, and you were just grateful to finally be in his arms. He slid a hand down your thigh, but as he started bringing it up the inside of your leg he froze a beat, lifting his hand and placing it on your tummy.
“What was that?” You giggled.
“I – I just – nothing, sorry.” He stuttered.
“No.” You whined, fondly and amused. “Don’t be bashful. Tell me.”
“You know what it was.” He ground his hips forward, pressing his half hard cock in to you.
You giggled at his flustered expression, and kissed his jaw. “Tomura.” You cooed.
He pointedly did not look back down at you, his cock only pressing harder against you because of his little hip rolling stunt.
“You know we can do something about this” You pressed back against his groin “whenever you’re ready.” You smiled up at him slyly.
He grumbled, visibly thinking about the option before giving a simple “No.” He nuzzled back in to you. “I just – I really want this, ok?”
You pressed at his chin, making him look at your soft smile, and pressing a kiss to his lips. “That sounds nice for now.” You cooed, just looking in to his fond red eyes. “But – uh – you can definitely touch me wherever you’d like. Ok?”
He pressed his forehead to yours without a word, and ran his hand up your shirt, pinching your nipple. You squawked, pulling back to see a grin, his grey mop hanging around his face.
He palmed your breast, and pulled you back in to him, relaxing back in to the pillow nest. “You did ask for it.” He grumbled.
“Meanie.” You giggled, grinding in to his cock and kissing his jaw before settling in to his chest.
A growling protest evaporated on his lips in favor of a soft, murmured “I love you, Y/N.”
“I love you too, Tomura.”