Someone needs to make a one piece x reader story where instead of being in the current generation, you’re in the generation with Garp, kuzan, kizaru, and the warlords are in their youth as well as the roger pirates and other characters I think it’ll be really interesting because you wouldn’t have to go through all the different arcs that the series does in the storyline you could have the reader be a member of the Roger Pirates or a high ranking marine, if they’re a marine, they should have a personality like Tanjiro and how he’s like really positive like how Tanjiro was towards sanemi 
When given the order to kill someone, are they able to complete it? Even if it’s you they’re condemned to finish off.
𝓬haracters: lucci, kizaru, shamrock.
༯ gn reader / angst / good ending / bad ending / description of blood / drabble / established relationship
AN: this is my first time writing for these characters, so i’m sorry if it’s ooc !! Randomly thought of this idea and got rlly excited writing it
Lucci ⤵︎
Initially, the order earned nothing from him, his expression was just as unreadable as ever. Rob Lucci merely listened to the simple directive. One he had carried out countless times before without allowing sentiment or morality to interfere.
It was his purpose. He had been shaped into a weapon long before he understood what choice even meant.
Then he heard the name.
Yours.
For the first time in years, a thought surfaced that shouldn’t have. Why? Not because he questioned the government’s judgment, he can’t do that.
..But despite that, why did it have to be you.
⸻
The front door clicked shut behind him.
You looked up almost immediately, a smile tugging at your lips as you stood from the couch to greet him. The familiar warmth of home remained untouched by the order that now weighed heavier than any mission he had ever accepted.
“There you are,” you said softly.
Lucci crossed the room towards you, his eyes following you. “Hello.” His hand found yours out of habit, fingers loosely threading between your own. The gesture was subtle, but tonight it lingered a second longer than usual.
You glanced down before looking back up at him. “Welcome home.” Your thumb brushed across his knuckles. Normally, that would’ve been enough. A quiet exchange before the evening settled into its routine.
Instead, that silence stretched longer. You studied him carefully, noticing the slight glint in his eyes. “Something on your mind? I was called off work today, talk about rare.”
His fingers loosened, then slipped from yours entirely.
He could end it now, ruthlessly like a predator. He is one after all.
He knew exactly where to strike, exactly how much force was necessary with his own claws. How quickly consciousness would fade.
Or maybe he could.. he could...
..his body refused.
He was hesitating. He wasn't supposed to be able to do that.
You stepped closer, tilting your head with quiet amusement. “You look exhausted,” you laughed, you had no idea.
No idea that every instinct drilled into him since childhood demanded he move. No idea that the greatest failure of his career stood only inches away, smiling at him.
His hand lifted towards you.
His fingertips settled against the side of your neck, you were warm and alive. He traced the curve of your jaw as though committing it to memory.
“..Lucci?” You whispered his name, uncertainty creeping into your voice.
He gave no answer. The other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you against him with restrained strength. His forehead lowered to rest beside yours.
He closed his eyes, your heartbeat was steady, he could feel it. Hear it.
It would’ve been so easy to stop.
Instead, he found himself listening to it, breathing you in. The faint scent that lingered on your clothes. The warmth radiating from your skin. Details he’d never consciously allowed himself to linger on before.
His entire life had been built upon absolute obedience.
Failure was unacceptable.
Yet his body had already made the decision his mind refused to acknowledge. That realization settled with startling clarity.
For the first time in his life, Rob Lucci could not carry out an order. The mission had already failed long before he walked through the door.
Because the moment he chose to hold you instead of kill you— he had chosen you.
“Let’s go to bed.” Lucci finally said, but not once felt urged to let you go from his grip.
Mission: failed.
Kizaru ⤵︎
The order didn’t surprise him, not since becoming an admiral.
Borsalino had served long enough to know that morality wasn’t a requirement of the job. The Marines gave assignments, and Admirals carried them out. That was how his world worked nowadays.
“That’s a troublesome one..” Kizaru huffed. The officer across from him mistook the comment for his usual sarcasm.
The target was seen as insignificant, until he read it.
You?
The paper remained between his fingers. “..I see.” He murmured, not once protesting. He folded the document neatly before slipping it inside his coat. “I’ll handle it.”
⸻
By sunset, he stood outside your front door, his hand hovered over the handle, thinking of just opening it on his own. Instead he knocked on the door casually, waiting for you to answer almost immediately.
“Oh!” Your face brightened. “You’re early.”
“Mmm…” His usual lopsided smile appeared, “Finished work sooner than expected, ain’t that weird.”
“Very weird.”
“So I’ve been told.”
You stepped aside to let him in without another thought. The scent of dinner still lingered through the house.
“Smells nice.”
“I figured you’d forget to eat again.” You stretched your arms, closing the door behind him.
“Hm.. guilty.”
You laughed at his words. The sound echoed through the room far longer than it should have. His gaze drifted over the familiar surroundings. Your shoes kicked carelessly near the entrance. A blanket half folded across the couch.
For a home that was his, it was strange. He’d never noticed how much evidence a life left behind.
“Sit,” you insisted. “I’ll make some tea. I found this new seller down town, smells good.”
“Well.” He loosened his coat. “Wouldn’t want to waste perfectly good tea.”
The whole rest of the day, he could not take his eyes off of you.
⸻
The report due the following morning was brief, whatever he wrote down was entirely false and absolute bullshit.
No one questioned it, there would always be another opportunity for him.
⸻
Tomorrow became next week, next week became another report. Another delay or an excuse to burrow time. He found reasons to accompany you to the market. To sit beside you while you talked about nothing in particular.
To complain about paperwork just long enough for dinner to finish cooking.
Every extra hour was borrowed, every smile was stolen time. He told himself he was only choosing a better moment. One where you wouldn’t suffer, or a chance he could prepare himself properly.
That's if he can even do it, he was a coward when torn between duty and his own feelings.
But it was enough to postpone the inevitable one more day, just not enough to completely disobey the order. A part of him sort of knew this would happen despite how he tried to protect you.
The mission will remain open.
Waiting.
Just like tomorrow always was, he wanted to pause as long as the universe let him. And when that time comes, he’ll choose his side.
Mission: Undecided (more than likely, failed.)
Shamrock ⤵︎
He is a commander of the God’s Knights and a member of the Figarland family, he prioritizes duty and the Celestial Dragons authority.
—
He arrived just before dusk.
The sky outside was painted in muted gold, the kind of evening you always insisted looked nicer when the clouds were thin enough for the sun to shine through.
You had once tried convincing him to watch sunsets with you, he never understood why.
Not then.
The door opened before he could knock twice.
“There you are.” Your smile reached him first, it was warm and unassuming. He was always distant enough for you to not expect anything. “I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.”
You stepped aside without hesitation. “You should’ve told me you were coming home.”
Home.. the word lingered strangely.
He stepped inside. Your shoes were scattered near the entrance exactly where you’d kicked them off. A jacket hung loosely over the chair because you’d never remembered to put it away.
A kettle whistled softly from the kitchen.
“You’re staring.” You laughed quietly.
He finally looked at you. “What?”
“Nothing.” You tilted your head, reaching towards him, just to straighten the collar of his uniform. A unconscious habit you’d probably done a hundred times before. “You always leave it crooked.”
Your fingers brushed against his neck, it was warm. “All done.” You murmured, pulling back.
And that was the last time.
His hand moved, faster than thought or his own instinct. Years of training compressed into a single flawless motion.
Your eyes widened— not with fear, it was confusion. The sound of a gasp barely escaped your lips, your knees gave out before you understood why.
He caught you, your body folded into his arms with a familiar weight. How many times had he held you like this? During nights when words weren’t necessary.
This time.. your warmth slipped away beneath his hands. Blood spread slowly between his fingers, soaking into the white fabric of his gloves.
You looked up at him, still trying to understand him even a bit better. You weren’t stupid, but even this was unexpected.
Your lips trembled, the question never finished. Your hand found his sleeve.
Then nothing.
Your fingers slid away, your head rested against his shoulder.
It was flawless on his end.
⸻
Mission: Complete.
His father would’ve approved, the Holy Knights certainly did. It was another duty fulfilled. Nothing more or less.
..But,
the first week was overly quiet, he didn’t comment on it while he unlocked the front door. Or when he stepped inside.. and stood there.
He was waiting.
For what?
His eyes drifted toward the kitchen, no voice called his name. No teasing complaint about how late he’d gotten home. He found himself standing there with his coat folded over one arm for several long seconds before hanging it up himself.
“…” He had never noticed that.
⸻
Months passed, that silence never changed. He wasn’t very loud himself, it was usually hard converting his own emotions to put it light. But he at least wanted some comfort from the quiet.
It was oppressive.
Every room felt abandoned before he even entered it. Too much empty space where someone used to curl up beside him, it was even worse when he ate at the dining table.
There was two chairs, one remained untouched since then. He considered moving it a few times, but he oddly refused. Instead it faced him every evening.
A constant reminder that someone should’ve been sitting there.
⸻
The house had begun losing your scent. That realization unsettled him more than he cared to admit. At first it lingered faintly on blankets, and eventually it was just one room still carried traces of you. He found himself standing there more often than necessary.
Not doing anything.
Week after week, you faded. Just like every trace proving you’d ever existed. A memory so vivid that for the briefest moment, he almost expected you to appear.
He suddenly looked down at his gloves, his memory flickering your own blood on them.
He was.. missing you. And he had no right to be.
He had obeyed without hesitation. He had become exactly the man his father wanted him to be, and in doing so. He had condemned himself to a lifetime of guilt.
Mission Status: Complete.
For the first time in his life, victory felt indistinguishable from loss.
Featured characters: //Villain Set// Mihawk - Sir Crocodile - Buggy - Katakuri - King - Eustass Kidd - Killer - Rob Lucci - Basil Hawkins - Doflamingo - Bartolomeo - Kalifa (CP9) - Daz Bones - Caesar - Kuro of the Black Cat Pirates - Enel God of Lightning - Sakazuki Akainu - Kizaru Borsalino x gn reader
Description: Improper use of Devil Fruit powers, Haki, and other tools~
Rating: 18+
Word count: 1900 / ~150 per character
WARNINGS: | gender neutral reader | all the sex, just all of it | object play/insertion | bondage | human-beast forms | power imbalance | temperature and other element play | knife play | semi public | size kink | pervy shit | bdsm
//Primary Set// //Secondary Set//
Mihawk
He does what he wants, when he wants. Period. If he wants you when you’re in a pub, you’re not getting away until he gets what he wants. Sitting in the booth across from him, he’s been known to put his boot between your legs on the bench, making you rut against him and rubbing it against you until you cum, quietly talking you through it in his sternest voice. Other times he’ll take out his dagger, holding it to your throat or sensitive places as you fuck. He’ll draw thin lines, not breaking the skin, but testing your trust as he makes you be still for him. Once, after a particularly aggravating meeting, he made you sit on the floor at his feet. While he cleaned Yoru, he demanded that you grind on his boot and get yourself off. But no matter what he asks of you, he always rewards you for obedience.
Sir Crocodile
For being such a twisted person, he’s not as kinky in bed as you’d expected. Sure he loves marking you up, pushing your limits, demanding submission and obedience, but there’s half a romantic in him (though only with you.) Even so, sex is rarely easy with him. And usually, the hook stays on. So of course he’ll use it just as he would use his hand otherwise. He’ll rub the cool metal against your skin until it warms, until it’s slick from your mouth - or elsewhere. He’ll tease you with the tip, making you be still so it doesn’t pierce you, playing a dangerous game of stimulation with the sharp tip around your nipples. He loves making you cum with it, sometimes denying you touch from his hand until you do. After making you lick it clean - or making a show of licking it himself - he’ll take you until you’re begging for mercy, as always.
Buggy
You already know what this man is up to. Every part of him is detachable. He can send you off to have your day with his left hand in your clothes, using your chest and ass as a stress ball. He’ll finger you over and over, holding your soft bits for comfort - definitely not your comfort, but he doesn’t give a shit. Good luck to both of you getting a damn thing done on those days. He loves leaving you with his cock buried inside you like a toy, getting hard inside you over and over and over throughout the day, his cum plugged up and acting as lube. When you finally return? He drags you off and reassembles himself, fucking you senseless - properly. Has he sent you with his nose in your underwear before? Do you want to have this conversation?
Katakuri
He is deeply repressed, your husband, in just about every way. But sexually? He has a lifetime of horny to make up for, and he’s terrified to hurt you or wear you out with his enthusiasm. First of all, you’re just so small. (Even in a world where he’s not actually giant sized, everything about him is so much bigger than you.) And he loves it. Too much. It’s far too arousing to watch you struggle to take him, to fondle and pleasure your body in his lap with his big hands. And sure, you may not be afraid of him, but he’s still worried about frightening you with his sounds and expressions as you take his cock inside your crushing tightness. But if you tell him you’re into it? If you begged him to use you? He’d fold instantly despite his reservations, but he’d use his observation haki - like he secretly always does - to ensure it’s never too much. The problem with using it? The risk of coming too soon when he watches you come undone.
King
He’s still annoyed with himself for falling in love with you. And sometimes he likes bringing that into bed. You’re so small, his little human lover. It takes a hell of a lot for you to be able to take him as it is, and he’s not about to waste all that effort with just one round. Once you’re exhausted enough to not be able to resist anymore, he’ll pick you up in his hands and plunge you down on his cock like a fuck doll. You’re just so little, it’s a wonder you can take him at all, and it gives him endless satisfaction watching the bulge in your belly as he sinks down to the hilt inside you. He loves your begging and tears, his body a weapon against you that you laughably don’t want to escape. Although he doesn’t know which is more pathetic - you, or his love of manhandling your small body to pleasure himself.
Eustass Kid
Your captain is never one to pull punches, in bed or otherwise. He has the conqueror’s spirit and damn if he doesn’t love using it in the bedroom. He loves pushing you to your limit, pounding you ruthlessly with an arm on your throat and a hand flicking your nipples until they tingle. So of course he thinks to use his magnetism on you. He makes rough and ready cuffs the day he decides to try it with you, holding you suspended and pinned every which way as he stuffs you fulll over and over. He makes you a collar studded with metal to pulll on, he makes underwear with foil strands running through the fabric so he can watch your face as he gropes you at the absolutely wrong times. If you let him, he’ll give you sex piercings that will really drive you crazy. Any insane thing you can think of, he’ll be thrilled to try it.
Killer
Your blond lover is a man of contradictions - a conqueror with a gentle streak, a ruthless massacring butcher with painted nails and lips, a metal head who loves cooking. He is strength and intelligence, loyal to a fault - both to his firebrand captain and to you. For all his posturing and shows of force, his love for you is shockingly sugar sweet. He’s always gentle and protective, making sure you eat, painting your nails and braiding your hair before bed. Sometimes you have to ask him to, you know, let you see his rough and intimidating side that you find so hot. He doesn’t treat you like glass (as evidenced by all the mornings you can’t walk), but you can take more, you assure him. And one of the things that arouses you about him? His punisher blades. So he wears one, holding it to your throat as he fucks you, giving you a taste of his fucked up side. You’ll be seeing more of that from now on. Hope you’re prepared.
Rob Lucci
Even in his human form, he’s ruthless and leaves you unable to walk the next day. But when he wants to use his Zoan form? The first time he was too rough, having to patch up your bite marks and… other injuries. So he reluctantly altered his approach. He is still ruthless, even as he preps you to take his oversized Zoan cock. He pins you roughly, kissing you fiercely. Often he’ll start in his human form to stretch you, then shift while inside you. He ruts into you like the wild animal he is, knotting and mounting you again and again, manhandling you into whatever positions he wants. He is always glad to have chosen this place to call home, a former warehouse with soundproof walls - so he can make you scream and wail with no consequence except needing to leave out the ingredients for honey lemon tea in the morning for your raw throat.
Basil Hawkins
In many ways, Hawkins is a simple man. Sure he has a strange and arcane devil fruit, and his obsession with tarot predictions could be called odd, but his ambitions for power and money are nothing so unique. And for all that loving a pirate and accompanying him is full of adventure, your life and love is fairly simple in the quiet hours. So much so, that he begins to worry that he’s boring you. So he approaches you about trying something - letting the cards decide what happens in the bedroom every once in a while. Using the themes and associated elements and numbers dictate the positions, the intensity, the duration. Does it work to inspire? Or is it just an awkward attempt by your lover to please you and show his love… that will never be spoken of again? (If you know what’s good for you~)
Doflamingo
Your lover is no stranger to kinks and play that would make others run for the hills. He likes it rough, he likes you helpless, he likes it wrong. And what easier way to accomplish that than by tying you up, shibari style, and leaving you dangling for him to play with? Sometimes he starts slow, taking his time, tormenting you as he binds you. Other times, you’re suspended before you can process it, your clothes torn off with a sadistic snicker and a promise to buy you something new. He’s a bully, mean and selfish when he takes you, making you take more than you can handle over and over. More than once when he’s been busy and you’ve bothered him for company, he’s strung you up and had his clone fuck you senseless. He lays out a sleeveless shirt the next day to show off the red marks from his strings.
Bartolomeo
You picked him. This insane wildcard. And he’s obsessed with you, of course he’ll try literally ANY kink you suggest. And this one you mentioned? He won’t shut up the entire trip to the nearest bed in excitement to try it. He strips you quickly, chaotically, your clothes and his landing across the room. Biting his lip so hard he makes it bleed, he concentrates and crosses his fingers. He creates a small barrier that wraps around your wrist, then your other and your ankles. He uses them to carry you to bed and hold you down. When he’s assured they’re not hurting you, he smirks and pushes his crossed fingers inside you. He rubs his face in your chest, rambling about how perfect you are, how tight and wet and sexy you are, how hot you look pinned and helpless like this. Let’s hope you really are prepared for such a long night.
Kalifa (CP9)
She is a woman of order, and that extends to every aspect of her life. She likes things clean and neat. And while she’ll reluctantly accept the consequences of the mess of lovemaking, she prefers whenever possible to do it in the bath. It is her domain, after all, and she likes the control. At times she’ll hurry things along, making you cum fast and then finishing bathing quickly. She leaves you in the water as she gets out to work, teasing you with her slick naked body as she leaves you. But she loves the indulgence of long baths, and occasionally uses her power on you when she is particularly eager for absolute control over your body and pleasure. She’s a tease, after all, and doesn’t mind using you like a doll while she gets off.
Daz Bones
Your reticent and stoic lover, for all his intelligence, admittedly still finds it difficult to believe that you would choose him. That you feel someone so drenched in blood and sin could be worthy of you - though he’d never voice it aloud. Instead he shows it through his actions, becoming the perfect lover - anticipating your every need and want before you know it yourself. And as he studies you, he notices your hesitations, your blushing, your squirming at certain… ideas. And so he carefully brings up the idea in the bedroom. If you want more thrill, if you really do trust him, he could tease you with his blades. And if you accept? Your heart will be racing as hard as you’ll cum. He is confidence personified when he acts, no more evident than in bed with you. He’d never hurt you more than you wanted, but his dark side is thrilled that you would enjoy something so fucked up.
Caesar
Of course chemicals will make their way into the bedroom with your mad scientist of a lover. The vast majority of his successful experiments over time have been aphrodisiacs. (Not that he could brag to the scientific community about that.) But you? You get to try them all. Sex pollens, sense inhibitors and enhancers, mind control experiments, animal heat mimicry. Usually he uses them on you, liking being in control during those experiments, but he can’t deny that he likes when you’re in charge. He’ll curse you if you give him one of his own drugs, but after a few orgasms, his cock weeping all over, he’ll silently and begrudgingly forgive you. He’s devious with them, more than once slipping you one at inopportune times (usually when he doesn’t want you to leave because he’d miss you.)
Kuro of the Black Cat Pirates
He is the captain of a thousand plans. Of course he’s come up with endless scenarios to try with you when it comes to intimacy. Ways to seduce you, positions to try, preparing meals that are said to serve as aphrodesiacs, buying you classy yet alluring clothes for him to take off of you later. Or order you to take off. But he’s also impatient and tired of pretending. So a great many of his ideas revolve around punishment. He’ll make you strip and rut against the corner of the table, he’ll use a paddle on you, making you count the strikes and mocking you for getting wet, he’ll tie you in a dozen different shibari positions to have his way with you where you cannot resist. You present him with just the challenges he prefers in these days of seeking peace. And planning how to get inside you each night is his guilty pleasure.
Enel God of Lightning
Your god is demanding, often bored, and loves wielding his power over you. Testing his favourite worshipper, to see if you’ll break before finishing. One of the most common tests is using his lightning against you. Little shocks to your lips, your nipples, between your legs. Occasionally he’ll shock you a little harder when you start to cum, loving how your body writhes more as the sheer sensation lances through you. It would be bothersome to find a new devotee, so he’s careful to not hurt you. And if ever he pushes you too hard, and your pleas for mercy are earnest, he’ll feel something almost akin to human emotion as he helps you down from the high and cleans you up. You’ve proven your devotion thoroughly, after all. But he’s glad when you let him test you again. He needs to know you still don’t regret being chosen by him.
Sakazuki Akainu
As the one person he cares for enough to love, trust is essential between you both. And he is prone to testing that in bed. He is intense, demanding, unyielding. Sure he’ll let you have a safe word, but he expects you to accept the full force of his love more often than not. He’s rough, holding and pinning you tightly, making you repeat refrains of ownership and love to him as he wrecks you. And sometimes, he’ll tease you with his devil fruit. Seeing if you’ll flinch as the sweltering heat makes your skin wet with sweat. Seeing how you arch your chest or hips away from the intense heat, but drip arousal for him anyway. The only time he ever softens up is afterwards, praising you for your absolute confidence in him, for giving yourself to him in every way.
Kizaru Borsalino
Your enigmatic lover may have a multitude of secrets, but he’s not shy. And he’ll train you to not be shy with him either. At first he’ll be patient with you, but after a while, he starts using his power to shine a light on you. And then he progresses to not turning off the lights anymore. He corrupts you into being bolder for him, making you watch as he touches and takes you in the mirror. His power is pure energy, and sometimes he’ll even play with giving you little jolts to your thighs, your chest, your back. Letting little sparks of light stimulate your most sensitive places, and then rewarding you with greater praise and affection.
Shigaraki Tomura is perfectly certain of his place in the world, thank you very much. He is Sensei's successor, the man who can and will destroy Hero Society. There's no need to ask questions. His online bestie changes that... And then disappears. Livid at the abandonment, he throws himself back into Sensei's goals. A year and a half later, they return and beg for the chance to explain themself. As much as he wants to stay mad at them, it's hard when he sees them face to face, and once again he starts asking questions. What will really happen if he kills All Might? Is what he wants for his League really the same as what Sensei wants for him? And how badly would this friendship be ruined if they knew exactly how hot he thinks they are?
Rated E for Explicit.
Chapter CW: Feminization. A bit of smut. Mirror sex, anal, masturbation.
Beta'd by the amazing @shigarakislaughter.
Index
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It takes another hour for Kurogiri to finish his banking sidequest. He doesn't know where all of the accounts are, and a couple of the Doctor's discretionary accounts have already disappeared, which Mechanist can't or won't help recover, but the rest are accessible, and quickly distributed between Kozuki Ryouma, Utagawa Ei, and Nakamura Kalani (everyone stares at Kurogiri at that one), plus a side account labeled, for the moment, with the name Midoriya Yoichi.
Once that's done, Kurogiri gives Giran his laptop back, takes the folder of real estate options, and warps everyone to the high-rise apartment that Tomura grew up in.
They all crash out immediately, Tomura and Chromika curling up in his room while everyone else flops on the nearest piece of furniture. In the morning, Kurogiri throws together a pile of rice, miso soup, and an incongruous plate full of tsukune from the freezer, while everyone else cycles through the shower on a strict five-minute timer. Dabi goes last, since he needs an extra ten minutes to replace four staples in his cheek where Gran Torino kicked him.
After eating, Tomura requests Twice make two clones of Mr Compress, sending one in a marble with a blood-disguised Toga to collect some cardboard boxes from a nearby liquor store, then having the other clone and the original start stripping the furnishings and sealing the boxes that he already packed. Spinner is invited to help pack up what's left of Tomura's room, including a pile of limited edition game figures, while Dabi and Magne start taking the kitchen apart and Twice starts removing the living, dining, and bedroom light fixtures. When Toga and Clonepress Number One get back with the boxes, Toga is assigned to boxing up the contents of the bathroom. All the dirty laundry is shoved into the washing machine for storage, while all the food that will fit is crammed into the fridge regardless of whether it needs to be kept cold.
By the time everything is packed up, it's been five hours, everyone is starving, and there's a multi-tier bento full of marbles sorted by room of origin sitting on the kitchen counter, everyone eating konbini bento while Tomura passes around the real estate folders.
"All right, we need a new base. These three neighborhoods match the requirements I gave Giran. Low income and relatively high crime but not a complete wasteland, no gangs that the locals are fond of, and perpetually ignored by Heroes and cops both. There's at least one empty building in each that can be renovated and turned into a headquarters, and an adjacent empty lot with utility line taps for a house—"
"Why a house?" Toga asks.
Chromika reaches under their shirt and pulls out a marble set as a pendant on a plain string necklace. "Need somewhere to put mine."
"Ooooh."
Tomura waits to see if the interruption is over, then continues. "People in all three neighborhoods won't trust newcomers by default, but we can build rep. We take care of them, they'll take care of us. Giran will take us around on tour soon enough, but I want everyone to look over this now and if anyone has a problem with something they see, say so."
"Where will I get blood?" Toga asks.
"There's a small clinic in or near each neighborhood. May take a couple of sidequests to get set, but you should be covered. And Giran has a line on medical supplies, we'll buy from him if we have to."
"How will any renovations be handled?" Magne asks.
"Local tradesmen as much as possible, obviously. If anyone knows someone we can trust for stuff beyond that, we'll look into it."
No one has any further questions, so once they finish eating and Tomura has destroyed the trash, Kurogiri walks a lap of the apartment to make sure nothing was missed in the packing. Satisfied, he calls Giran and asks when they can get a tour of the prospective properties. The answer turns out to be tomorrow, and the broker is more than happy to rent them a safehouse for a night or three if they need accommodations until they've chosen. For a fair price, of course.
Since they already stripped the apartment down to the wires, they take him up on that, and the next day, he shows up on the doorstep to start the tour.
All three neighborhoods are in the Greater Tokyo Area. One is in Kawasaki's Narushada district, one in Kessheru in Tokyo itself, and finally there's Merida-dan up near Saitama. Narushada is written off fairly quickly upon inspection. The area is too close to Yokohama, so it's a bit crowded with refugees, and half the district is factories and warehouses, with the empty lot being set between a derelict fish cannery and a deservedly condemned danchi block. Kessheru and Merida-dan are more promising. In the end, they choose Kessheru. While Merida-dan has a somewhat nicer empty building, the associated empty lot is on the corner, there are already six bars on the street, and there's something vaguely off about the elementary school that they pass on their way to check out the clinic.
The property in Kessheru, on the other hand, is two buildings bordering adjacent sides of the empty lot. One is a two-story commercial building with a closed-down bar and a small living area above, while the other is a three-story mansion-type apartment building. Also on the block are a konbini, a Korean grocery, a laundromat, a seamstress shop, and a bicycle repair place, before it wraps back around into housing. Next to the empty lot in the middle is a scrubby community garden, a double row of sunflowers forming a fence between the vegetables and the bare dirt. A bar-windowed pharmacy is next to the clinic the next block over, there's an assortment of second-hand stores and repair shops, and a scattering of fast food joints and dingy izakayas. The two nicest restaurants around appear to be a yakiniku place and a Jonathan's. All in all, the neighborhood is about ten blocks, which Tomura is pretty sure the League can handle without spreading too thin.
Giran looks remarkably smug when they say they'll take this one, and Tomura stops and eyes him warily. "All right, what's the catch?"
"It's a bit more expensive than the others, on account of having some inbuilt security. Walk with me for a minute." Giran leads them into the Korean grocery and says something to the clerk in a language that Tomura just barely recognizes from some old League of Legends pro tournament videos.
The clerk, a thirty-something man, replies in the same language, and Toga giggles.
"He said Giran's accent is still bad," she whispers loudly.
"It is," the clerk says. "You speak Korean?"
She screws up her face and wobbles a hand, saying a word or three.
"Well… You don't sound entirely Japanese, at least." The clerk looks back at Giran. "Are these your customers or mine, Samchon?"
"Mine first. How's Gunhee doing today?"
"Not too bad. I think he's up for a walk and a chat. Not more than an hour though. I'll get him for you."
Gunhee turns out to be the clerk's father, at least seventy, with a thick Korean accent and flyaway hair, and he walks them over to the closed-down bar. As soon as he lays a land on the boards nailed over the door, they melt away, and the building suddenly looks much less decrepit.
"My Quirk," he says, "is called Fidelity. Once I deem something secret, only those I trust can perceive it. To anyone else, it is unremarkable. I've used it to hide things for Giran here since he was just an apprentice."
"Hey now, don't go bringing up ancient history," Giran protests mildly.
"I can keep the fact that you've moved in here hidden, for a price. Not sure how much longer I'll be around, but my son can take over once I'm gone, if he applies himself."
"Why hide the bar?" Kurogiri asks.
"I haven't got the energy to run it, these days, but the cellar storage is still needed. If you open this place back up, you'll need to take care of that."
"Did you get many customers when it was open?"
"A fair few. Nothing too fancy. Come have a look around." Gunhee unlocks the door and shows them inside.
It's not that different from the bar in Kamino as far as general aesthetics go. The biggest distinction is having twice the floor space and counter length, plus the shuttered windows. There are two bathrooms, a manager's office with an old computer, a kitchen with just enough space for a grill and a cooking pot or two plus a dishwasher, and a dusty storage room half-stocked with crates of alcohol and spare glasses, all on the first floor. Set in the storage room floor is a trap door, which Tomura can only see after it's pointed out to him.
"There's a private room upstairs," Gunhee says, pointing out a dumbwaiter behind the bar, then showing them the staircase. When he admits he's not up to climbing it right now, Kurogiri offers a warp gate, and the tour continues.
The private room is similar enough to downstairs, but with couches instead of plain chairs, and space for a game table or three. Mr Compress promptly proves that by producing his good poker table and its chairs, then making copy-and-paste gestures while commenting about billiards. When Spinner brings up arcade machines, the magician gives a shit-eating grin and pulls a vintage pinball machine out of his stash, one of the earliest reconfigurable tables.
"Kids these days," Gunhee grumbles good-naturedly when he sees it.
"My good sir, this machine is older than you are," Compress says. "And worth a luxury condo in Roppongi, to a collector."
Gunhee snorts. "I'm no collector. Back to business. Out that door there, there's stairs toward the lot, and I suppose if you're the athletic type or feel like building a bridge you can get to the balcony in the corner mansion."
"Really?" Chromika steps out the door when the old man unlocks it, and Tomura watches them take a quick jump from one railing to the other. Then they jump back. "That's pretty convenient. Couldn't see the door or the deck from outside before. Fidelity again?"
Gunhee nods. "So how does it sound?"
Tomura looks around the group. Only Twice seems unsure, and he's alternating between nodding and shaking his head. "We'll take it."
くコ:ミ
It takes two days to sort out the empty lot so that Chromika's house can be installed with proper utility access. Two weeks to find all the contractors they need to get the apartment building fixed up. A block of four units on the second floor are opened up and combined into one large living space, a kitchen installed to Kurogiri's standards first and foremost. Big chunks of wiring need to be redone, along with half the bathrooms, and several rooms need new flooring or fresh drywall. It would probably take a year to finish if it wasn't for the speed-building techniques that became common alongside Heroes and their brawls. Instead it's projected for two months, and there's enough refurbished rooms in the first week that everyone, barring Tomura and Chromika, has somewhere in the apartment block to sleep.
Tomura, meanwhile, really couldn't care less about having a room in that building. As soon as the house is planted in the empty lot and the pipes are running clean, he grabs the boxes from his old room and starts unpacking them.
Without a single question, Chromika starts rearranging the furniture. The last of their aunt's belongings are boxed up and put into storage along with their own bed, and his desk and a few of his shelves are installed in their former bedroom, his PC and drawing supplies set up in the newly empty space. His other game systems are set aside to be placed in the apartment common area along with most of his books, his old bed, and the rest of his shelving.
For the first time in three years, he can put his entire wardrobe in the same place, not needing to hide any of it. The first time he goes to the apartment kitchen in a skirt, Spinner walks into a wall, and Kurogiri nearly drops a whole tuna filet on the floor.
"How long has this been a thing?" his caretaker asks.
"A couple of years. Ayato helped me work it out."
"Ayato, huh?" Kurogiri grins. "Good job keeping it quiet before. Anything I need to know?"
"Same name and pronouns, but a zip-up hoodie means female." Tomura pauses. "I'm not getting a haircut, by the way."
"No problem. I was never any good with the scissors anyway."
Chromika pulls him into their study and opens their sketchbook for him, the one they've been keeping out of his reach ever since they started taking photos of him in every new outfit. It's full of him, drawings of him in every pose they've pushed him into, from every angle. A handful of nude sketches make his face burn, then he turns the page again and sees the night he told them the League was ditching Sensei. The drawings change then, going from hints and suggestions of a curve to the chest to having an actual bust. There are a few rough outlines redoing the older pictures, and a couple of headshots predicting longer hairstyles, but the centerpiece is the several pages of highly detailed colored pieces in very feminine poses. At first dressed only in lingerie, and fancier stuff than he ever bought, but then that disappears and the drawings are fully nude. His paper self's breasts are rendered in loving detail and full color, and while a couple of images show him completely female, with wide hips and a pussy on display, the rest are accurate to life, dick going from a resting state to a raging erection as he turns the pages. The final drawing is the most extreme, colored with extra-pink shading, near-red perfect circles dotting the skin around the neck, chest, and inner thighs, legs splayed, dick smeared and dripping, eyes half-closed and mouth gaping.
It's breathtaking. The next day, he goes to Kabukicho — Kurogiri is perfectly happy to hand him a wad of cash and wave him through a warp gate — and makes his way through the streets until he finds the shop listed on VNet. He walks out with his pockets fifty thousand yen lighter and his shirt just a bit tighter, then he goes home and wraps Chromika in a hug.
"How do you feel, Tomu?" they ask, nuzzling his neck.
"Like myself." He spent the whole trip back thinking about it.
"Comfy?" They tug at the front of his hoodie.
"I think so." He pulls it off over his head and looks down at his chest. He'd think he's wearing one of his padded bras if he couldn't clearly see the twin points stretching at his shirt.
It's obvious from the instant brilliant pink of their tentacles that Chromika sees it too. "Mirror," they suggest.
He nods and heads for the bathroom, then strips his shirt off and just sort of. Stares. At his reflection. His new, temporary(?) breasts aren't particularly large, they'll be easy to hide in a Chellsport top if he wants to, but they're still big enough bounce slightly when he drops his arms along with his shirt, then a little more when he hops up on his toes and comes back down. It's a little weird, feeling the jiggle physics in first person, and he can already recognize that he'd probably benefit from a sports bra in a fight, or at least one of the lined camisoles, but it's not uncomfortable.
They're soft to the touch, too. Squishy. And sensitive. Considering he spent the trip home very, very aware of the soft cotton of his shirt moving over his skin, actual pressure has his breath hitching and his pants tightening. "Hahh… Uh… Yato?"
"Hm?"
"Are they always supposed to be so…?"
"Be so what?" they ask distractedly.
"I swear I can feel air on them."
"Yeah, that can happen. Especially when I've just shifted."
"Oh. Yato?"
"Yeah?"
"Want you to touch them."
"Okay." They step closer and reach up to cup his breasts in their palms. They squeeze and knead gently at the swells of tissue, then flick their thumbs across his nipples. Rosy pink and perky, they're vastly different from the flat, pale brown nubs he started with, and and every touch on them sends a blaze of sensation straight to his cock. Chromika spends a few minutes working up to playing with them directly, then after a few light twisting pinches, leans in and kisses one.
At the first lick, he's overwhelmed entirely, and moans softly as his underwear is stained white. "Y-Yato… Please…"
"Please what, Tomu?"
"N-need you. Right here."
"In front of the mirror?"
"Yeah."
"You ready?"
He nods, then shivers as they move around behind him and steer him over to plant his hands on the edge of the sink. They unzip his jeans and push them down his hips with his underwear, then free their own cock and grind it against his rear. He whines as they take a moment to play with the plug that he's been wearing since the house was hooked up, then they pull it out and set it in the sink. They sink two fingers into the toy's place immediately and start scissoring him open with the familiar slickness of their ink, their free hand morphing into a tentacle and dancing across his tits. In no time at all, their cock is stretching his asshole wide open, their palm-suckers are latched onto his nipples, and he's whimpering under the triple assault on his nerves. He loves when they use their suckers like that, but it's so much more now than it was before, and he never wants them to stop.
"You see yourself, Tomu?" they whisper in his ear after a particularly deep thrust. "See the look on your face?"
Eyes wide and wild, cheeks flushed and streaked with tears, chin slicked with drool. "Uh-huh…"
They release his nipples and wrap their arms around his ribs just under his breasts. His flesh is marked with near-red circles just like the drawing they made. "See how your pretty tits bounce when I rail you?"
"Uh-huh… Mmn, put your suckers back on," he demands.
"You want me to suck on them some more?"
"Yes!"
"For how long?" The very tips of their tentacles curl around his nipples, but only just.
"Forever!"
They shift their hands back and grab his hips, then bend him over further and start pounding even harder. Their cock drives past his prostate with every thrust, winding him tighter and tighter, then the tension snaps and he lets out a choking wail as his twitching cock spills all over the front of the sink. A few thrusts later, and he sobs at the feeling of mixed cum and ink flooding into his ass.
He's still hard. So are they. But they pull out anyway, grabbing the plug from the sink and sliding it back into his dripping hole.
"Yato?" he whines in protest.
"I need to make lunch, Tomu. I want you to go lay down in the tatami room. No shirt, no bra. Play a game, take a nap, get used to having these." They tweak his nipples again.
"Fine, but I wanna fuck more after lunch."
"After dinner," they counter. "I'll stuff your ass with the vibrator and ride you while I suck your tits."
He brightens. "Deal."
He bought a one-week demo. It takes him less than two days to decide he wants to keep the changes. He's not even trying to do it, he's just playing around. Early morning, still half asleep, the friction of the sheets on his chest gets him started, so he starts to tease his nipples. Gently at first, moistening them with licked fingers and blowing air across them for the stiffening chill, then he's pinching, twisting, and tugging, getting more and more wound up, writhing on the bed, then his hips jerk and his cock spills across his stomach and he's wide awake, staring at the ceiling in shock.
"Mmf… Tomu?" Chromika blinks sleepily at him. "Whas goin' on?"
"I—" He swallows hard, throat dry. "I came just from playing with my tits."
"Yaaay," they mumble, curling into his side. Two minutes later, they sit up with a yelp. "What?!"
He gestures to his torso, his reddened nipples and the sticky stains on his abdomen. "See?"
They stare at the evidence, eyebrows raised. "I wanna try."
"Give me a bit to cool off first."
くコ:ミ
The bar opens a week after they move in. Business is slow at first, and Kurogiri has to talk to Gunhee about recipes when one 'returning' patron complains about the lack of yangnyeom-style chicken. Then he has to 'hire' Chromika to do most of the cooking, since he's not used to keeping up with a full sakana menu, even a simple one. Karaage in rice-flour batter, yangnyeom chicken, yakitori, chikuwa, boiled edamame, pickled or grilled vegetables, and the usual assortment of dried snacks. At Tomura's suggestion, there's also a weekly schedule of daily specials, including taco rice on Tuesdays and ikayaki on Fridays.
Twice and Magne work with the contractors on the mansion's renovations and remodeling. The former's ability to multiply the workforce makes him fairly popular, and the team leaders arrange a system where the clones will wear red hardhats or bandanas to identify them and ensure that the originals can't be accidentally given the riskier tasks, like voltage tests and structural integrity checks. The latter spends a few days being tested on her trade school knowledge before being assigned to the wiring team. The team makes a few jokes about how 'dainty' she is, which put her on the defensive until one of the movers comes back from sick leave — it turns out that the beefiest worker in the entire crew is a ciswoman named Suzume, over two meters tall and built like a champion weightlifter.
Mr Compress ingratiates himself to the owner of the independent second-hand furniture store when he identifies some genuine antiques that had been mislabeled as imitations. The pre-Quirk tansu chest in particular is appraised for enough that when it's sold at auction, he's given a small cut of the profits.
Toga worms her way into the clinic. After she displays her Quirk and it's realized that she can exactly match the blood type of any sample she's given, she donates a couple of pints for a local with a mutation that makes them incapable of receiving normal types. It earns her an internship, learning first aid and proper phlebotomy. She's dismayed at being told she'll have to go back to school if she wants a real apprenticeship, but Kurogiri bribes her with custom sweets — castella cake made with blood instead of egg, an Italian chocolate confection called sanguinaccio dolce, and gummy bears injected with droplets of blood — as studying snacks. He also helps her review the middle school materials that she hasn't touched in two years to help her pass the entrance exam for the online school that Spinner recommends. She admits she finds it a lot easier to focus on the material now that she's getting blood regularly.
Dabi finds the local tattoo shop and gets a part time job with a reference from his old boss at Mata Hari, but spends most of his time drawing up plans for vigilante patrols. On particularly hot days, he sits in the shade behind the bar with a Coldflame shichirin, and when the local kids realize the grill is radiating cold, he grumbles in fake annoyance and produces a box of popsicle sticks and some pitchers of fruit juice. He insists he's only bribing them to go away, but he makes no effort to chase them off, and freezes any extra flavors they bring to his table.
Spinner starts out patrolling the streets from breakfast until dinner, and he does stop a few petty thieves, but after a few days of that he rubs a couple of scales off his heel and has to take a rest from the walking. While he's letting the blister cream soak in, he gets drawn into a conversation between Chromika and a couple of old men with visible mutations — one with a scorpion tail and chitinous fingers, and another with the build, pelt, and ears of a bear — about the employment prospects for heteromorphs. Chromika explains a bit on their cousins' situation and how they ended up in it, and it turns out both of the old men racked up petty convictions in their youth for intimidation and threatening behavior. Quietly, Spinner asks if they can tell him more, and starts taking notes as they're launched into Back In My Day mode. It sends him down a rabbit hole of research, and the League ends up buying a couple more computers after he spends five hours straight looking at statistics online. When his heel is recovered and he resumes his patrols, he takes a notebook with him, and stops to talk to the people the old men mentioned, offering to help with their groceries and their gardens in exchange for their stories. When Tomura asks what he's doing, he says he's asking the same question Tomura wanted Midoriya to ask: Why?
Tomura himself focuses on learning how to fight properly. While his ability to dodge hits and analyze his opponents in action are top notch, it's pointed out to him that he was only ever taught to close in, slap someone with all five fingers, and get back out of reach until they finish crumbling. Between that and the fact that his new proportions have changed his sense of balance, he ends up spending his mornings with Kurogiri, learning to use a staff. Which leads to the somewhat awkward revelation that Kurogiri was a Hero student at UA before he became a Noumu, and the even more awkward discussion about how the one the Doctor really wanted that day was Shirakumo Oboro's best friend. Tomura spends most of the day in an existential crisis upon being told that he was this close to having Eraserhead for a caretaker as a child.
くコ:ミ
It's early August when they move into Kessheru. A month later, they're still not considered locals, but they're not outsiders either, so the clinic doctor has no problem approaching Tomura to ask where Toga is when she doesn't show up for the second day in a row.
Tomura, surprised, doesn't have an answer.
Toga comes back the next day near sunset, outright skipping with glee, and plugs one of their burner phones in to charge while asking Kurogiri what's for dinner.
"And where have you been the past couple of days?" he asks, keeping his hand on the bottle of pomegranate juice.
"I went on a secret mission!" she chirps.
"Is the mission done?"
"Yep!"
"Then you can give a full report on it."
Toga looks around the room to find the rest of the League staring at her. "Oh all right. I went to see Izukun!"
"You what?!" Tomura yelps.
"You went to UA?!" demands Dabi.
"Oh no, I went to um, where was it… Takoba Stadium!"
Kurogiri blinks, holds up a finger for pause, checks his phone, then facepalms. "Excuse me. You went… to the Provisional Hero License Exam?"
"Oh that is so much worse," Spinner groans.
"Relax! No one knows it was me! Well, Izukun does, sort of, but I had to make sure he wouldn't ignore the message!" Toga grins from ear to ear. "And you know what? He was right!"
"I'm afraid to ask," Compress mutters.
"About being a good rescue Hero! I passed the exam! Well, Camie-chan did, but I took the test for her. There was this big dodgeball game for the first round, everyone got three targets and six balls, and if all your targets got hit you'd be out, and you had to hit two people's last targets to pass, and only the first hundred people would get to part two. Then for the second part they blew up a whole fake city and filled it with—"
"The Help Us Company, ugh," Kurogiri groans. "Professional victim stand-ins. They're all experts in rescue maneuvers so they can judge a prospective hero's technique, and they're all vicious, merciless nitpickers. They docked me points for rough handling when I had to jump a cloud over a line of cars, then more for poor route planning. That building was on fire, dammit, it didn't fall into the street until after I headed that way! God, I had nightmares about that for weeks."
Everyone stares at him.
"Yeah, they're still like that," Toga says after a minute. "But I did pretty good! The points started at a hundred and if you lost half of them you'd fail but I still had seventy-two points!"
She pulls out her own phone and sends around photos of the Provisional License for Utsushimi Camie and the scoring sheet.
"Where's the actual license?" Dabi asks.
"Oh, I left it with Camie-chan! She spent the exam taking a nap in the furthest bathroom."
Kurogiri massages the bridge of his nose. "You do know she'll have to retake the license exam as soon as they realize it wasn't her in the arena, right? Even if she let you take her place, it's still cheating."
Toga blinks at him. "So? Izukun passed, so it's not like I'd get to go see him at another test."
"Well, as long as you know where your priorities are, sugar…" Magne shakes her head in amusement.
"What message did you give Midoriya, anyway?" asks Twice. "Tell him we never wanna see him again!"
"Oh, I gave him one of the burner phones!"
Dead silence.
"Why?" Chromika asks.
"So he can talk to us, silly! Don't worry, it's only got the number for that phone," she points to the one that she plugged in, "so he can message it, but if the Heroes take it away from him they can't use it to find us."
Spinner picks up the charging phone and examines its settings. "It's got the location trackers scrambled, so she's not wrong… We should probably add the VNet VPN just in case though."
"I'll do it." Tomura grabs the phone and uses his log-in to access the VNet app installer. "Toga, if you're gonna do something like that again, tell us before you run off. Dr Hotai came looking for you and got all Concerned when I couldn't say I knew where you were."
Toga opens her mouth to protest, but doesn't get a word out before the logic gets dropped on her.
"If we don't know where you are or when you'll be back, we won't know if we need to bail you out of a cell," Dabi adds.
"We won't tell you not to go, hun, just let us know that you're going."
The youngest member of the League pouts, then hangs her head. "Ohhhh-kaaaay… You do wanna talk to Izukun again though, right?"
"…Yeah, I guess I could ask him a few things," Tomura admits.
