Chapter Text
That had gone surprisingly well. Shigaraki Tomura hadn't quite known what to expect when stealing some girl from the subway. He had, of course, been involved in taking many people to begin the creation of the Nomu or to gain a quirk his master had wanted. Many of them fought or screamed or put up a resistance of some sort. It's just a human instinct, right? Fight or flight.
Sometimes Tomura even found himself looking forward to it. Just because he valued himself as the tactician leader persona first rather than the beat-em-up front line barbarian character didn't mean that he didn't like a good fight when one came along.
He does heavily enjoy the soaring feeling in his chest at the expression people make knowing they'd lost. Watching that look of hope in their eyes flicker out just before he corroded them from existence. One of the few things he valued more in person than in an MMO.
But the absolute ease of snatching someone so defenseless as you, out in the open, still had him reeling. They had made a plan. As if he would ever attempt going into anything, battle or otherwise, without a plan again. The still achy bullet holes in his legs and arms were a reminder not to make hasty actions so recklessly. The plan really hadn't been needed it seemed.
That brat Stitch-face had made certain no one else would be in the subway station, you hadn't paid any mind to the fact that it'd been empty, and Tomura likely hadn't even needed to hold you so tightly when he restrained you. It was just so damn simple. He didn't mind. Simple levels were a good time to just take things easy.
And that is what this was about. Stress relief and taking things easy.
Tomura had Kurogiri deposit you in his room a few hours ago. He could say that maybe leaving you there was a kindness on his part. Letting you come to terms with what was happening. But that would be a blatant lie. He wanted to see how you'd develop now that you'd realized your fate; being thrown into a den of villains, knowing that they only wanted to use you for their own entertainment.
The possibilities of expressions you'd make underneath him make his fingers twitch in excitement. How horrified would you be? Would you try to fight him? He hadn't even shown you what he was capable of doing yet, how very easily he could snuff you from existence.
Part of him hoped you'd struggle. He wanted to see the look in your eyes when you realized there was nothing you could do against him, watch the fight morph to fear as he did as he wanted. But another part hoped you'd be obedient for him, that you would do everything he asked with a misplaced hope that he'd go easy on you.
He had no intention of doing so, but leading you along might be fun.
Again, that was the real excitement of this for him. Tomura had been involved in sexual relations before. Not often and not with very great or trustworthy people. Just something to pass the time and have first hand experience when he started having those urges. But still, the majority of his experience was through the view of a game system and the small Z-rated collection of games he'd managed to buy.
Having someone like you around who was clean and had no experience of the sort, someone who couldn't get away and he'd have access to more than once. He had limitless possibilities. He could try any number of things on you, things from his games, that he'd thought up on his own. Tomura would take his time and have fun with the choices.
So it didn't matter to him what you did this time. He could get any reaction he wanted later.
And, as he stands from his bar stool and places his vita in his hoodie pocket, he thinks he's had you waiting long enough.
Tomura doesn't see you at first, small as you are in the mess of his room, but he definitely hears the sharp intake of your breath at the sight of him and the sound of you scooting farther back into the corner. You'd chosen the corner of the room farthest away from the bed, as if being away from it would deter him or save you. His grin behind Father broadens. Your fearful thought process is cute.
The warp gate closes behind him and he takes calculated steps towards his computer desk, not outwardly acknowledging your presence yet as he takes the detached hand off and places it gently down on a stack of papers. He can feel you watching him, the line of tension between the two of you thick, and he can't help the shiver it gives him. Your focus is unwavering.
Under normal circumstances, Tomura hates being looked at for longer than necessary. The thought of being stared at would frustrate him to the point of snapping in anger. To say he has killed someone for less than looking at him would be completely correct. But the fear radiating from your gaze and into his back makes his cold fingers feel warm, makes his stomach tighten and chest flutter. But. He wants to draw this out.
So he ignores you, turning to remove his hoodie, his game, his shoes and socks, looking for the world like he's just getting comfortable in his own living space and loving the attention you're providing him with. And then finally, he turns to you.
The way you jump when his red eyes snap to you makes him think of being shocked. Like his eyes were a livewire that he'd personally placed on your skin, and maybe that is what it felt like to you. He could almost feel your pulse pick up from within the room. You don't look away from him as he approaches, crossing the mess in the floor expertly as you try to make yourself smaller, until he's squatting hardly a foot away.
You're pretty, he supposes. Not all of them agreed on the type of person they should pick. Gender didn't even seem to matter to most. Really, they'd decided on a girl only because it was easier. Girls go missing all the time. He found many of the other’s choices boring. But you were the one who won the lottery.
Tomura wouldn't complain. Not when your eyes shut tightly as his index finger grazes your knee, not when the sharp inhale through your nose makes his stomach tighten again.
"You really are lucky, you know," he starts, fingers taking turns rubbing into the thin fabric of the leggings you're wearing. "You know about human trafficking? Taking people to use for… whatever really, certainly not just sex anymore." He taps his finger on your knee until your eyes open and you look at him. He grins, deciding he likes your eye color when tinted with tears.
"You were on one of those lists. It's how we found you," he explains. It's true, he doesn't plan on lying to you. Where would the fun in that be? Your eyes fall shut again. He imagines you're trying to will him away, but he starts the back of his fingers down your shins in what could be a soothing manner, feeling the way they shake for him. You're so warm.
"People have been watching you for a while. Not us. We didn't have a reason until recently. But there are lists of people with no family. Who don't seem to have friends. Whose jobs don't care if they even show up. That was the first list we looked at." You don't react further. It frustrates him that you've not made a single peep since he's come in but he catches that annoyance before it grows and tucks it back into his chest. "But then there's another list. It's more detailed than the first. A lot of those creeps are good at getting information. Even from hospitals and doctors. We know a lot about you. You're quirkless, you're clean of spreadable diseases, you've never had any major injuries, you're a virgin." His hand pauses in time to feel your body rattle. It's intoxicating. "Or at least so you've said." He pauses to watch small tears streak down your face, your breathing shaky as you exhale. He thinks you might be trying to calm yourself down.
And he was right. You breathe a few more times and then open your mouth. If he hadn't been watching, he would have missed the noise you made completely. Even though it was still unintelligible. "Hm?" He hums quietly. It takes you another few shivering breaths before you answer between tears.
"H-how-how d-does,” you swallow and Tomura watches the movement. “How does that… make me lucky?"
"You're lucky because so much worse could have happened than the League fucking you."
You do scream when he grabs you by the ankles, yanking you so harshly your back smacks against the floor as he pulls you close, settling between your legs before you can close them. A sob tears from your chest as your arms lash out, trying desperately to push him away or harm him. Tomura just laughs, snatching your wrists from the air and slamming them to the floor, the choked noise from your throat doing wonders for his ego.
"Shh shh. You'll be alright," he purrs, holding himself above you and staring at each thick tear rolling down your cheek. They're already flushed a pretty shade of pink and your small choked breaths are making his pants feel tight. "We weren't lying. You'll be fed and cared for. You don't have to worry about anything. All you have to do is be good for us."
His body tightens at the hiccup in your chest, the way your eyes look anywhere but him as he leans against you, chest to chest. He can feel your heart flutter like this. Your harsh pants against his ear as he lowers to your own almost makes him rut up against you. He hovers there, just breathing you in and feeling your panic. Letting go of one wrist, he pulls away to hold your cheek, wiping a tear line away with his thumb before snatching your chin between his fingers, squeezing hard enough to make you look at him."You don't even know what we can do yet. And I'd hate for you to get hurt."
Making sure you're watching, he takes your sweater and shirt in all five fingers.
You start hyperventilating as your body is exposed to him, pursing his lips to gently blow away the ashes left over. He's not sure if it's from seeing what his hands that have been handling you all evening are capable of or from your intimates now being on display, but he likes it. He runs his fingers up your stomach, your ribs, your breast, and you stay so still for him. A smart girl to catch on to his quirk so quickly. You're soft for him, so warm. Even when his cold fingers caress you and goosebumps rise up from the change of temperature, your skin remains hot against his. Racking his memory, he can't think of when he's ever embraced someone so warm. He can't help but just dispose of your bra too.
He catches your hand before you try and cover yourself, squeezing your wrist in warning before letting go like the interruption hadn't happened. They instead go to cover your eyes - maybe so you won't have to look at him - and, given the circumstances, he lets it slide for now.
"See. That wasn't hard," he coos. "It'll be best if you just follow the rules. I could make it one of those games that punish you for breaking them, but it'll be better if we use this like a tutorial. Get to know each other." You're still crying, but at least you're compliant. He decides he would have hated covering your mouth, decides that your screaming would have been horribly annoying. With your mouth covered, how would he appreciate the loud gasp you let out when he traps your right nipple between his fingers?
Tomura rolls it, pinching it until your noises, whimpers, are louder and the bud is stiff. He's never really gotten to just play with breasts before. His sexual encounters were mostly quick and fumbling around in the dark. He has the chance to savor this as he presses his thumb and finger together to pull at that one as he begins cupping and squeezing the other.
Every sound from your throat is sending signals right to his dick. He's barely even started and he can't remember a time when he's ever been this excited. He'd have kept playing with your breasts if your hand hadn't started muffling the noises escaping your mouth. With one arm still blocking your eyes, you don't expect him to snatch both wrists and slam them against the floor again. This time, he meant for it to hurt.
"I don't want you to ever cover your mouth again. Do you understand?" Your eyes are red and puffy when you glance at him, lip swollen from where you'd been biting it. You don't answer him. His grip tightens till he can feel your bones creak and you shout.
"I-I un-understand!" He relents, pressing the slender things once more to the floor in a final warning before letting go and staring at you once again. Your chest is heaving with how fast you're breathing and the sight of how puffy and flushed your nipples are is beautiful. They look abused. He wonders what the rest of you would look like with marks of abuse.
The rest of your clothes are gone as easily as the first, Tomura not wasting any time as he leans down to kiss at your neck. He's seen them in his games, kiss marks on throats, the embarrassing reactions people give to having been caught with them. That's attractive in its own. But what he likes them for is different. It's a sign of ownership. He will be the first person to leave one on you, the first person to ever touch you like this. And he's going to mark you as such. He is the leader. He chose you. Even when the others have their turns with you, you will always belong to him first. And he'll make sure the others, and you, know it.
Your shout is music to his ears, a noise he can hear just as much as he can feel with his teeth scraping against your throat, his lips sucking against your skin. He's not naive enough to pretend that he's at all good at this, but he doesn't care. He knows that by the time he's done marking your skin, no one will give a damn if he was good or not.
Tomura pulls away, glancing at the angry red spots before looking down at your nakedness. Still so soft, the rest of you unmarked, and as he pulls away further, he's able to see how wet you are. He smiles. He'd heard about this before, looked it up, counted on it actually. How sometimes the adrenaline from fear confuses your body, how it can make you just as wet and turned on as a lover. How ashamed you must be feeling. How betrayed by your own body. The high flush on your cheeks assures him that you are.
Carefully, he grips the backs of your knees, watching your face scrunch up as he exposes your core to him. Wrapping one leg around his waist, he holds the other open to run his fingers through your folds. "It's alright. I'll make sure you feel good…. This time at least."
Your whole body racks against him as he quickly finds that bud of nerves. He hadn't expected to find it so easily, but you were so reactive that he doubts it was anything else. He presses small circles into it, watching your face contort, eyes open and staring at the ceiling as you involuntarily buck into his hand. He's held power over people so many times in his life, but this is different. He could hurt you just as easily as he could make you want him. He was hurting you by making you want him.
The heat coming from this part of you is different, almost burning whenever he dips his fingers down farther to rub against your opening. He can tell that you're struggling, trying not to cover yourself again, making sure not to push him away. But you're not restraining your noises. Instead your moans are being let out between embarrassed sobs and more tears.
Tomura feels like he is wearing far too many clothes.
Abruptly, he lets your legs fall away from him. He watches as you immediately retract them, curling in on yourself and shutting your eyes as he stands. As if he was done with you or something. You catch on quickly enough when he pulls his shirt over his head and you hear his jeans rustling as they hit the floor.
He's sure that you don't mean to, or really want to, but your eyes search his body over once. Tomura isn't the type to ever wonder if he was attractive. Maybe he was in a subjective sense, maybe if his quirk didn't make his skin so damn hard to care for, maybe if he paid more attention to his general health and his ribs weren't so noticeable despite the muscle he had, he didn't really care. But the embarrassment, the wide-eyed realization, that washes over your features when you reach the strain in his boxers could have made him feel like he was the most attractive person you'd ever seen. Even though he knew that it was because you'd realized that he wasn't done.
You aren't hard to pick up. Grabbing you by your upper arms until you're standing enough to be hauled up from under your thighs, you only struggle long enough for him to force you against the wall, hitting weakly at his chest and even swatting him in the face once. Your legs are open around his hips, your arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders so he doesn't drop you, forcing you to depend on him for support.
"I thought we decided you were going to behave. You didn't change your mind did you?" He reaches one hand between you to hold your chin still, making sure that you can feel his fingers tap so that none are touching all at once.
Your weak 'no' is swallowed as he presses his mouth to yours. He's sure that you expected something rough and lust filled, but he intends to make you want it. He wants to make you kiss him back and enjoy it. If not immediately, or this time at all, you'll want it someday. Someday you will be broken. Someday you'll think of nothing but him, crave his attention, do anything to make him happy, submit to him entirely, both mind and body.
So he does what he's read in books and games and seen in movies. Tomura kisses you gently, biting at your lower lip and sucking it into his mouth. And then the moment you relax even a bit, he pinches your nipple roughly. Your mouth opens in a whine, just as he expected it would, and he shoves his tongue between your lips.
He's heard kisses be described in media and he'd always thought it to be garbage romanticization meant to make it more sexy. And really? It is. All he can taste is wet skin, possibly whatever you had eaten for dinner hours before, and the last bit of his chapstick clinging to his lips. Not to say he doesn't find it sexy, the wet noises you're making as he grinds himself against you being muffled by his own mouth are making his body feel far too alive for him to lie like that. But he's glad that he has this distinction between fantasy and reality. He's glad that now when he fantasizes and comes up with things he wants to try, he can imagine the real taste on his lips.
He grabs your ass, pushing you both away from the wall and traveling to the bed. He isn't willing to make this hard for himself as well, digging his knees into the floor while he takes you isn't how he wants this to go. A rush of pride fills him when he drops you to the comforter, the surprise on your face telling him that you were hardly aware you had been moved. But he doesn't allow you to feel that long, snaking his way up the bed and back between your legs, caging you in near the headboard so you have nowhere to go.
Tomura runs both hands down your sides, your thighs, hooking again under both knees to spread you open to him. "Look at me." You can't stop yourself from following his command, blinking up at him with those pretty tears in your eyes. He just smiles at you. "Put your hands here and hold yourself open for me." He loves the way your eyes widen and your mouth opens in what he thinks might be a protest, but he taps his fingers along your thighs, a little too closely spaced for comfort, and you shut your eyes tightly. You haven't caught on to the empty threat. He isn't above roughing you up, but he can't stop his quirk. And where would the fun be in destroying you so quickly.
Obediently, you replace his hands with yours, holding yourself open for him to take in.
As hot as this is, as much as he'd likely be fine to just fuck you like this, curiosity is playing a large role in this. Tomura's fingers slide down the backs of your legs, reaching your folds just to slide his thumbs between them and pull your lips apart. You tremble, maybe from him holding too wide, maybe from his eyes eating you up, but he doesn't care. He likes it and drinks in the way that you've begun to shake.
You're obscenely wet, every slight movement of Tomura's fingers through your slick making a lewd noise loud enough to lightly echo in the room. He can taste your embarrassment.
Still watching intently, he continues holding you open with one hand and with the other runs a single digit down your opening and then back up to press a lazy circle to your clit. Repeating the process a few times, he can feel it swell against his fingers. You're whining again, small little moans every time he focuses his finger on your tight hole, dipping the smallest bit in before pulling back out. As much as he loves this control over you, he's starting to lose that hold over his own body. He's not going to be able to wait much longer.
He doesn't give warning when he presses a finger into you, not stopping until he's knuckle deep in your wet heat. His brain almost stops at the thought that something this tight is going to be surrounding his dick soon, but your gasps snap him back to reality. He's again filled with the curiosity of how your body works. Slowly, he pulls his finger back out, soft walls clenching the digit like it's trying to draw him back in. He gives your body what it wants, pressing back in just as purposefully, this time rubbing when it reaches his knuckle, his finger moving in a come here motion. Your back arches against the bed with every move and he's amazed by how much power a single finger can have over a body, the pace of his rubbing picking up speed inside of you.
As he pulls that one digit out again, about to replace it with two, he wonders what you'd feel like around him. No stretching with fingers. Just you, soaked and tight and untouched around his dick. He's sure it would hurt for you, make you sob and scream, but it's a thought he can't help imagining. A thought that has him throbbing so bad he has to press the heel of his other hand against himself for relief. But he said he would make you feel good. He begins pumping his fingers into you, slowly building until his fingers hit so hard that his palm is making a disgustingly attractive squelch everytime it slaps your cunt.
You're nearly screaming for him, your hands holding your legs still, nails digging into your skin so hard to leave lines and it excites him that there might be bruises. The way that your walls are tightening and fluttering around him, the way that you jolt every time his palm hits your clit, he thinks you're close. He wasn't planning on you cumming first. But what if he's too caught up in his own release to see you cum for him? How sensitive will you be if you cum before he fucks you?
He's going to find out.
Pulling his hand away, he snaps his fingers back in with a third, a gasp drawn from your lips sliding into a keen as his other hand's fingers set a harsh pace against your clit, laughing when he sees you struggling to breathe. "Are you going to cum already? Is this all it takes for you?" You clamp down hard on his fingers and it clicks into place that you might like that. "All it takes is a villain to shove his fingers in you. What an absolute slut."
Shaking your head weakly only earns you a harsher pace against your body. It doesn't take four pumps later for you to be cumming on his fingers, body going so taut that for a moment, Tomura thinks you might break something. But you won't, he knows you won't, and so he fingerfucks you through your orgasm, watching your face contort until your cries turn to gasps. Listening as your noises rise in pitch only to fall into jumbled moans and begs for him to stop.
He likes the begging.
His hands move away from you as if you burned him, nearly ripping his boxers down his thighs in order to free his dick. You're still entirely out of it when he moves your hands away, moving a leg to wrap around him while he holds the other almost to your chest.
The slick of your orgasm coats the head of his dick as he runs it through your folds, eyes flickering between watching your lips open around him and your eyes widening as you realize he hasn't been satisfied. Your limbs seize at one particular catch of his head against your opening and he can't hold back anymore.
You're thoroughly soaked enough that Tomura glides in with one steady push but, neither of you could really be prepared for it. He knew it would be tight, but what envelopes him is so perfect.
"Oh fuck!"
Tomura rolls his hips, pushing just slightly deeper as a garbled noise leaves your throat. Fresh tears are rolling down your cheeks, a combination of humiliation and pain on your face. As much as he likes it, he wants you begging again. He leans down, one arm pressed to the bed holding him, lips dragging along your shoulders and neck, up to your ear. "You're so tight."
Pulling his hips back, he slowly fills you a second time, listening to your sob catch in your throat as he repeats it again and slowly again. It's hot, a scorching warmth starting where he's pressed into you and crashing in waves through him. His hips are flush with yours, filling you so thoroughly, head just kissing against what must be your cervix.
Tomura's brain, though currently devoid of functional thought except how good this feels, gives the suggestion that you had to have been made for him. A silly and unhelpful thought, wishful thinking maybe, but it still falls across his lips. "Do you feel that? Can you feel how perfectly I fill you?" Your hands grasp against his shoulders, small and useless, and he savors the small pain you cause. He hitches his hips forward faster in turn and you cry out for him again.
The need to press his body into yours grows, and Tomura is suddenly aware of how much he truly needs to possess you. He can't seem to get close enough, teeth dragging your jaw and leaving red welts on your neck, hips humping steadily faster, harsher into you. He wants you to beg for him, always for him. Even when the rest of the League might have their way, he wants your thoughts to be on him. For him to take you from them, for his love, his touch. He wants to carve his way into your body, scratch his name in your bones, make you need him like you need air.
He wants you to die without him.
You've buried your face in his shoulder, eyes hidden and mouth open, every shout and moan punched out of your lungs. He reaches to hook your other leg with his arm, pressing both your legs to your chest with his body. He falls onto his arms, elbows holding him and hands in tight fists as his pace grows. He reaches deeper like this, harder, and your body tightens for him, every thrust pounding against the farthest parts of you. He hopes you'll be sore. He wants you to feel him with every move you make. He's getting close.
"You'll cum again, won't you?" He thought he could feel you shiver before, but the full body quake against him feeds further into his pleasure, your cunt squeezing in flutters. "Good girl. You've been… So good." You get tighter as he talks and he isn't sure if it's the praise or just him. He doesn't care, he just wants you to cum again.
"Come on. Be a good girl. Cum again." He thinks you're close, your cunt is getting wetter, his pace becoming erratic at the ease which he's slamming into you. Tomura can feel his own release building, that heat twisting in his gut, tightening his body. "Fuck, I'm gonna-" he can't stop himself. He gets two more good thrusts before he presses as deeply as he can, sight blacking out with the strength of his orgasm as he hopes he spills right into your womb. It feels like time stops and lasts forever at the same time. And fuck if you aren't cumming too, the sensation of you pulsing around him and sucking up every drop prolonging his own.
The world comes back to him slowly, your ragged breathing the first thing to ground him. He didn't realize his eyes had closed, opening them to see you gazing wide-eyed at the wall, drying tear tracks down your cheeks. He pushes himself into sitting up, lifting a hand to wipe the leftover wet from your face. He catches his breath and finally, pulls himself from your body.
Tomura winces at the cold air against his dick. He stands, the nerves in his legs unsure as he finds an old towel and cleans himself. By the time he turns back to you, you've rolled to your side, back facing him and front to the wall. That's fine. As much as he wishes you were already endeared to him, he knows it will take time. He can be patient, he thinks.
He dresses himself, back into the clothes he shed earlier, and opens his dresser. There isn't much inside, mostly old things that no longer fit him, but many that might fit you. An old shirt and older pair of boxers are found and he tosses them and the towel to the bed. You still don't move. Annoyance flares up in his chest and he breathes steadily to tame it. You have to be told what to do, how to act. There will be no results if he loses his temper. He's reminded that he has to learn this game just as much as you do.
He crosses to his bed and takes your arm, careful and gentle as he can manage, the other hand coming to tilt your face toward him. "I'm going to get you breakfast. Clean yourself up and get dressed before I come back. Understand? You can answer when I speak to you." He hardly gets a nod for his effort but it'll be enough for now.
Tomura unlocks his door, locking it back as he leaves. This is a learning experience for you both, and with the image of you subservient to him as the goal, he thinks he can manage this game.