Shigaraki Tomura was Japan's most feared villain; his name alone sent chills through even the bravest heroes. His presence was powerful, mysterious, and deadly. If anyone dared speak while he was talking, their fate was sealed. If anyone disobeyed his commands, they faced certain death. It was a cycle that showed no mercy, and it left no survivors.

Today, he had a meeting with the League of Villains, but his mood was darker and sharper than usual. The tension in the air was thick, and the other members avoided eye contact, unsure why he seemed particularly volatile. Only you, his wife, knew the reason. Earlier that morning, the two of you had argued—voices raised, objects hurled across the room in frustration, until both of you were left breathless and silent. Without another word, he’d stormed out, leaving you alone in your shared bedroom, the silence settling like a cold weight over everything.

Now, as he sat in the meeting, Shigaraki's mind wasn’t on the plans or strategies being discussed. He was thinking about you—about the hurt in your eyes, the pain he’d caused, and how he could make it up to you. You were the only person he truly cared for, the only one who could challenge him, the only one who could break through the walls he kept so firmly in place. And today, he had crossed a line.

As soon as the meeting ended, he left without a word, driving straight to an upscale boutique. He bought the shoes you’d been eyeing for so long, then picked up a hundred deep-red roses. His mind was set on making things right.

When he returned home, the house was quiet. He searched each room—the large living room, the kitchen, the bathroom—until finally, he found you in the bedroom, dressed up and looking breathtaking. His heart faltered for a moment, seeing you like that.

"My sweetheart... I’m sorry," he murmured as he approached, placing the roses and the shoebox on the bed. Taking your hand, he guided you to sit down beside him. "My beautiful love," he said softly, "please forgive me. I was a fool this morning..."

Slowly, he knelt down before you, his usually cold eyes softened with a rare vulnerability. "Can you forgive me?" he asked, his gaze pleading as his hands reached to gently slip off your high heels.

His fingers traced a gentle path up and down your leg, his touch uncharacteristically tender as he held your ankle and placed a kiss on your foot. His lips trailed slowly up to your knee, where he paused, his breath warm against your skin.

"Please," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Reaching for the shoebox, he took out one of the new shoes and carefully slipped it onto your foot, his fingers brushing your skin with every movement. He did the same with the other, leaving soft kisses along your leg as he settled each shoe into place. "You wanted these, didn’t you? Do you like them?" he asked, looking up at you, his cheek nuzzling gently against your leg as he searched your face for forgiveness.