#Shiggy smut

[genyashusband]

Shiggy Smut Drabble

TW: slight smut, wet dreams, humping

Imagine waking up next to Tomura, his head nudging your chest while he dreams. He'll start rubbing his crotch against your leg, humping you with a sleepy whimper. Whatever he is dreaming of, you surely are glad you're here to witness this side of him- needy and desperate, trying to get off against your leg in his sleep. You giggle, ghosting your lithe fingers over his spine, causing him to shiver and grip your waist tighter. You bring one hand up to his hair, threading your fingers through the soft, yet slightly greasy, locks as you tug gently. Shigaraki starts to stir, groaning before finally opening his eyes and looking up at your smiling face.

"I just had a dream about you.." he mumbles against your chest. You giggle, moving your hand from his hair to his shoulder.

"Oh yeah?" You chuckle, "What was I doing?" He groans at the feeling of your hands working away the tension in his shoulders, as he rises from your chest and hovers over you.

"Let me show you."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Notes:

HE IS SO ADORABLE

I just want to squish his cheeks... though he'd probably kill me if I did.

This is my first post! No clue what I'm doing...

Have fun babes ;)

[yanderenightmare]

tomura with hero reader whose quirk he's stolen, rendering them defenseless

Shigaraki Tomura

TW: slight nsfw, implied prev noncon, captive reader, Stockholm syndrome, implied mental break, mental deterioration, disassociation, manipulation, angsty, but also weirdly fluffy? reader is super fragile

gn reader

The chub of your inner thighs is still wet with the act. You rub them together for no other reason than that it feels pleasant. You trace the awful scars on his arm, using his warm chest as a pillow—the sound beating of his heart thumping rhythmically at your ear, a soothing presence.

 He balances a red book atop your crown.

He doesn’t seem very interested in reading it—only regarding it with jaded eyes, a meager scoff then and there before turning the page. But still, even though the book didn’t excite him, it bothered you that his attention was elsewhere. It sowed the seeds of doubt and gave root to way too many intrusive thoughts, sprouting out and spreading like weeds throughout your mind, making your chest curl at the possibilities.

“Do you think I'm ugly?” you have to ask. You have to know, why isn’t he looking at you.

He pans away from the page, beady garnet eyes softening from scrutiny to nonplus.

Your question stunted him—nearly made him believe he’d heard you wrong. Why someone like you would ever ask someone like him something like that seemed beyond all reason. It would be the same if a flower asked gravel.

But then again, you’d become a little ditzy as of late. Or maybe you’d been so for a little while already. It’s hard to say—you don’t talk as much as you used to. You no longer scream either, though that had ceased even longer ago.

You continue to delicately run your finger over the tear where his tough skin meets the even tougher purple tissue as though mapping the damage. There’s a frown on your face. No, not a frown—a pout. 

He thought for a moment to use it against you like he’d done everything else so far. Lie and say yes, tell you you’re about as ugly as he is—gravel—make you fall even further apart than what you were already. But something compelled him to choose differently.

“I think you're the prettiest thing in the world.”

Your pout is sucked between your teeth as you pick yourself up to peer down at him—eyes round and misty and something more, something strange—dare he say joyed?

You're scaring him.

“Really?” you choke out as if you’d been holding back a lump.

He hasn’t known how to treat you lately. You’ve become too soft to handle poorly—too frail to harass and too willing for him to feel the need to. Earlier, you'd even begged him to fuck harder and deeper—even cum inside. Actually, you hadn't veered away from his touch in a while. More like you've been embracing it.

He'd brushed it off as mere compliance at first, a state of meekness, weakened by being touch-starved, something that perhaps developed into a minor case of Stockholm syndrome.

But the way you're acting now—seems more concerning.

“Yeah,” is all he warrants as an answer. Though, he was curious as to yours as he begs the same question, “What about me?”

A smile graces your face then—there’s a comfort to it, a mild and affectionate one, unexaggerated, honest, as you smoothly swing your leg over his lap.

A look like that has no place on your face, especially when regarding him, and yet he finds himself hoping for more. He lays his book aside as you lean forward and doesn't stop you when you cup his face in both your palms.

“As far as I'm concerned, you’re not just the prettiest boy in the world—you're the only boy in the world.” You say it with a kiss, lips just as soft as the words leaving them. It shocks him, though he accepts and gives it back.

You close your eyes, laying your chest against his—he keeps his open to look at you. Observing and assessing.

You’ve truly become a whole other person altogether. A far cry from the tough hero you once were—the one who’d beat him within an inch of his life and leave him to choke on the blood.

“Will you stay with me today?” you ask against his lips—playing with his hair, looping the curly tresses around your fingers.

There’s a neediness to your voice, a certain desperation, a sadness—something lonely and something that reminds him all too much of himself. He feels both a strong urge to reject and soothe it all at the same time.

“No, I gotta go,” he says despite it. He had business.

You hide your face in his neck and continue with your tracing, now on the scrapes striping his throat where he’s raked his nails time and time again. “When will you come back?” Your tone comes out even sweeter, only a murmur mushed against his skin.

It nearly makes his heart twist. “It’s better I don’t answer that.”

It’s funny. Though the thought had struck him, he didn’t gauge any ill intentions. You could be asking, acting, plotting some escape based on the hours of his absence—yet somehow, with the way you nuzzle into him like that, as though you’re pouring your all-too-candid grief into him, he can't sense any other ulterior motive.

“Last time you left at this hour, you came back all beaten and bruised,” you mutter, now with a hint of bitterness—as if you’re cursing whoever hurt him under your breath.

It’s ironic. He sneers lazily, almost fondly, at the old memory. “You’re the one who used to beat and bruise me, remember?”

He’s truly curious if you do. Or if something’s spirited your past life away and left you like this—no longer an aspiring young hero, but something whose only value is warming his bed at night.

You arise, an appalled look of affront upon your face.

“No, that can’t be right,” you very nearly cry, as if the very thought was killing you. “I would never hurt you—I love you too much.”

Apparently, you don’t remember who you were at all.

“Love me?” he all but croaks. It’s a laughable prospect, and yet he doesn’t even smile. There’s something awful in his gut that prevents him. “Don't be stupid. You can't love me.”

Your face doesn’t drop its grimace, only further tears with forlorn outrage. “Of course, I love you!" you insist. "You’re my whole reason for living...”

You look so despaired—wrecked from his dismissal. The tears well quickly then slip down your face just as fast—and yet it isn’t the same crying as you used to. This time, it’s quiet—in wait or in dread as you beg the question, 

“Don't you love me?”

It’s an unexpected one, and it quickly proves to be an existential one—even more so than your unnerving confession. Despite not wanting to, it leaves him to dig through the muck in his head he’d long ignored, down in the dark where he’d tried burying the truth he'd felt oncoming. He'd wanted to deny it, reject it, amend it, simply because it confused him too much to acknowledge—complicated things—changed things he didn’t want or need changing.

He wonders if it’s somehow proof of fate—even though he despises such a concept. That, no matter how much you practice free will, no matter how many knots you make upon the red string, the world will pull and straighten it out, and you’re left to realize you’d brought it all on yourself.

First, he took your quirk, then he took your body—your mind shortly followed—and now it seems he’s managed to take your heart, too. 

There’s nothing left of you that isn’t his. 

There was a time he’d frolic at the thought of having reduced you to such a pathetic ghost in a shell—back then, he’d do anything to destroy you—he’d surely shatter you into a million little scattered pieces if presented with the chance, make sure you were broken for good. 

But that was the old him. Or rather, that was his dream for the old you—the hero he loathed down to his rotten core.

But the pretty misty-eyed thing looking down at him now, aching for his answer, wasn’t that person anymore.

And the truth is, the person you are now scares him more than that hero ever did. 

You were… well, you were the person who warms his bed at night, the person who traces his scars and plays with his hair—the person who wraps themselves around him and keeps him from falling apart when he stumbles through the door into the tiny little room he keeps you a prisoner in. You're his.

This time, his heart does twist. He’s never before spoken the words that dance on his tongue, or if he has, they’ve been long forgotten and come out as dust balls as he affirms them now, 

“Yes. I love you.”

There’s a flash of hope in your eyes, though it just as quickly diminishes—as if you don’t believe him.

Your lip warbles as you confirm it, “No, you don’t.”

More tears run silently down the tracks on your cheeks, gathering at the tip of your chin before dripping upon his chest—each one like a gunshot through something hollow.

“If you did, you wouldn’t go. You wouldn’t leave me here in this room, all alone.” Your nails curl into your palms where they rest atop him. You bow your head as though you can’t bear to look at him, as if it hurts. The next words come out beneath your breath, “How am I supposed to compete with the whole world?”

You’re making him feel like dying. The continuous twists of his heart feel as if you’re about to tear it right out of his chest.

He sits up and lifts your face. It’s strange, even with his two-finger gloves on. He doesn’t think he’s ever held you like this. Though, suppose it’s been a night of many firsts already. And here comes another,

“As far as I’m concerned, you are my world.”

There you are, the one thing he doesn’t wish to destroy.

Your sore eyes become round, then swell with different tears. There’s a hitch in your breath as you sigh through a shuddering sob, throwing your arms around his neck and clinging to him tightly—your body jostling while you rub your wet face into his neck, holding him close for comfort as if you're scared to ever let go.

He returns the gesture, though somewhat hesitantly, wrapping his arms around you and laying his head to rest against your shoulder.

And then, as he holds you—for the first time ever, fear of actually losing the fight ahead strikes him.

He hadn’t much cared about the outcome before. Either he’d destroy or be destroyed.

This wasn’t as simple. As said earlier, this complicated things.

But then again, it was even more of a reason to go.

“But I still have to leave.” 

You part from him—the betrayal in your tone demanding his justification, “Why?”

Suppose, in some ways, this actually made things simpler—as that was a question he had no problem answering.

“‘Cause there are monsters outside…” He rests his forehead upon yours, gazing back into those terribly glassy eyes looking back at him as he speaks to you about your dear old colleagues. “Monsters who want nothing but to take you away from me.”

If only they could see you now, they’d know… you no longer want to leave him.

“So I have to go out there and make sure they have no chance,” he explains, almost like a vow, “You’re mine, and I’ll destroy anyone who says otherwise to keep you that way.”

The way your eyes melt makes him feel all fuzzy. It’s a special type of glee, a victory before the battle even begins—to see you root for him—so deep in love with him that you’ve forgotten you’re celebrating the onset of death to all of your former friends.

They probably wouldn’t be able to take you away from him even if they somehow managed to invade this very room. You’d sooner die than betray him.

And that makes him feel all the more ready for the war ahead.

“So kiss me good luck, and I’ll come right back to you soon.”

♡ SHIGARAKI TOMURA ♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist

[agendercrisisx]

Shigaraki always had a hard time trusting, and when you took everything in his time. He almost cried. You cared so much about him, and it was such an estrange feeling. It didn't take long for him to trust you with every fiber of his being, and you trusted him more than anyone else.

He wanted to touch you, but he was so scared of hurting you. Or making, you, the only good thing in his life disappear.

When you found out that your quirk canceled out Shigaraki's, you were both over the moon. He could finally touch you to his heart's desire.

He spent every day, every hour, every minute, every second touching you. Always having some kind of hold of you, even if it was just the touch of your pinkie against his. It quickly evolved to him always having something in you. A finger, his tongue or his cock. He needed you all the fucking time.

Even in meetings, you would be sitting in his lap, his cock buried deep in you, with others in the room. If any of them looked at you or had a reaction to the sweet noises you made. Shigaraki would have them removed from the face of the earth in minutes. But he couldn't stop, you felt so fucking good, you made him feel so damn amazing. He loved you so fucking much. And the only way he could truly show you, was by fucking you until your brain turned off and the only thing you could think about was him.

[dadsbongos]

virgins can have kinks too!

4.1 k words / summary - multi-chap posts of me experimenting with smut writing

warnings - piv, unprotected sex + creampies, virgin shiggy, college au, porn with minimal plot, partially clothed sex, BRIEF suicide joke, fem reader, 18+ mndi

~~~

If Tomura could go back and change any one thing in his life, it'd probably be how you two met.

Touya is messy enough to live with, now Tomura was forced to account for all the dirt-clodded shoes and unwashed hands of strangers coming into contact with his possessions. Those first hinting throbs of a headache were beginning to tease at Tomura’s pterion, and unfortunately his only access to water was blocked off by a thick weld of moist, musty athletes. Not that they intimidated Tomura, of course, they were just… an optional pain that he’d rather avoid. All their clunky terminology went over his head, and in his experience the people that Touya invites to his parties are not the inclusive type. What Tomura did understand was that they were perfectly posted up against their kitchen sink so as to be as inconvenient as possible; intending to verbally batter whatever unfortunate girl tried snagging from the fridge.

To be fair to them, though, tap water was Tomura’s backup plan. His initial objective was to sneakily steal a plastic bottle before returning to his room. All those were gone, which is sooo funny to Tomura because he’s certain that he just bought a forty pack yesterday.

Yet if Tomura were to point that out, Touya would just shift blame back onto his recluse roommate for knowingly leaving out water when he was inviting people over. So he doesn’t bother finding the stupid punk.

Similarly, he doesn’t so much as attempt either bathroom sink for water. One being annoyingly split off between the kitchen and Tomura’s room, and the other in Touya’s room. Touya’s room was a self imposed no-no for Tomura during their day-to-day, so he can’t fathom a reason to enter during the degenerate’s party. Judging by occasional thumps and ever shifting shadows beneath the gap, Tomura assumes the shared bath is in no better shape.

Right as he sets to retreat, his eyes zoom across their open floor plan -- all the way into the living room, honing in on two girls. One familiar from their shared mythology class, and the other entirely foreign. Himiko Toga is curled around the shoulders of the second girl, twirling strands of mystery girl’s hair with her long fingers.

Himiko greedily consumes all things cute, she chews them up and keeps them between her teeth to amalgamate with the next adorable target her sights set on. By the end of her life, she’ll probably puke up a cat-eared ball of pink glitter tied up with bows and proudly proclaim it to be her life’s work.

Currently, he’s watching Himiko chow down on someone that he, surprisingly, also finds cute. It's distracting.

Himiko lowers her hands until both arms are wrapped around your waist, nails burrowing into the material of your shirt. Her cheek presses against your shoulder, loose strands of blonde hair tickling up your neck.

Your neck strangely captured Tomura, then. Thick with your pulse and tissue, he wants to feel it pillow under his teeth. His lips are rough and chapped and suddenly all he can think about is how they’d feel scarring up the soft flesh of your jugular.

Himiko must be thinking that too because he watches as she turns cheek and digs her nose into the juncture of your neck.

Oh.

Tomura blinks himself free of the stupor and shakes out his hands, then wiping them dry against his pants. He didn’t think Himiko could actually hold down a relationship.

“Whatcha starin’ at, boss?”

Voice so raggedy and low, almost a staticky purr at Tomura’s back, he can instantaneously pick out who it is.

“Did you know Himiko had a girlfriend?”

“Huh?” Touya steps forward, eyes narrowed out into the crowd, “Where? I can’t see shit.”

“I told you to just get contacts, moron,” Tomura grumbles, then pointing as inconspicuous as he can (not very at all) towards their mutual friend still slithered around the unknown girl.

“Kid, that’s not her girlfriend.”

Tomura looks up at Touya, glaring through tangled, powder blue bangs, “You’re joking, right? I’m not stupid.”

“Seriously, it’s not,” Touya snickers, “Why? You interested?” when Tomura can only silently seethe up at the man, Touya grins: a sight more disturbing than reassuring, his teeth are too big and prominent, the bags under his eyes crinkle up weirdly, and it reeks of selfish glee. Touya jams out his index and middle fingers, waggling the index first, “Which one? Blondie?” then his middle, “Or new girl?”

“I don’t want to talk about this with you,” Tomura knocks down the man’s hand with a disgruntled scoff, “You’re mental.”

“We’ve been friends awhile now, no?” Touya stubbornly returns to pointing, “I’ve never seen you get worked up over a girl, it’s funny. So, which one?”

“It’s funny?”

“I’ll set you up.”

Admitting to the fact he’s got a beating heart and libido is so embarrassing, which leads to Tomura halfheartedly muttering, “If I had a thing for Himiko, I wouldn’t have told you first.”

“You’re cute,” Touya quips, reaching up to pinch Tomura’s cheek between black-painted nails -- pointedly ignoring the annoyed huff and swat resulting. He steps around Tomura to venture through the jungle of his guests, “I’m on it.”

Touya is one of the best, and worst, people that Tomura has ever met. Touya is bothersome and rude and sometimes downright narcissistic, but also headstrong. Touya decided the day his dad bought him this house that he wanted to room with the dork from his freshman year geography lecture. Touya decided that Tomura and him were best friends when Tomura helped him pass their aforementioned geography class. Touya decided last year that the pair should bleach their hair together for a laugh. Touya decided just now to be Tomura’s wingman.

His singlemindedness pairs almost lethally well with his sense of loyalty. It almost made Touya seem… admirable.

Tomura internally gags over the thought, quickly refocusing on real life where Touya is leading Himiko (who is leading her mystery friend via deathgrip on your hand) back towards the kitchen.

Himiko giggles upon seeing Tomura, “You thought we were dating?”

Nevermind. Touya is just as insufferable as he was three years ago badgering Tomura for his lecture notes.

“Be nice. You’re so touchy, I’m sure everyone thought we’re together,” mystery girl squeezes Himiko’s hand, then smiling over at Tomura, “But I’m totally single.”

Oh.

Touya’s the most direct, masterminded person Tomura’s ever met.

All that masterminding goes to utter waste if Tomura can’t wake up and relearn social cues, though. Touya jabs an elbow into Tomura’s gaunt side, ribs aching from the blow.

“Okay,” Tomura nods dumbly, swallowing the unease trapped in his throat and once again drying his hands against his sweatpants.

“If you couldn’t tell,” Touya yanks Himiko into his side and out of your hold, “So is he.”

Himiko whines and reaches out as Touya drags her off, the pair slinking somewhere deep into the crowd of thrashing, bumbling bodies.

“You don’t look much like the party type,” you hum, maybe a little unhelpfully. Tried and true method of flirting, however, is being just a tad mean. A less fluffy version of the tragic come here often? line is sure to crack this man’s icy exterior.

“My roommate,” Tomura flings a thumb over in the direction Himiko was hauled off, “He’s the delinquent, I just share the space,” suddenly the insides of his sweatpants are too hot, and so is the flimsy white shirt on his chest, “I just wanted water.”

Sweltering air beats from the center of his chest down to his ankles, even tickling up his neck. The longer you stare at him, the hotter his body feels. Scorching up his face too, burning away layers of dried, ungroomed skin to reveal every muscle twinge. Tomura wants to both comb his hair back and hide behind the strands (most of all, though, he wishes he’d bothered brushing it whatsoever before making his venture). Being so trapped between either option makes his brain short circuit until he’s, rather bashfully, tucking hair behind his ear like some blushing ingenue.

Thankfully you don’t appear troubled by the sight, instead grinning wider and even laughing at his admission (Tomura likes your smile: lips giving prominence to flattering teeth, balls of your cheeks plumping, and lashes fluttering. Definitely more lovely than Touya’s). You fold your arms, “Poor thing. You probably don’t wanna be stuck out here, huh?”

Insecurity visibly crawls along the downward twitch of your lips, your brows furrowing. Tomura stares at you, committing each divot and angle of your body to memory. By the time he’s finished, he realizes you’re waiting for him to respond.

“Yeah…” he mutters lamely, scratching at the crackled film of skin over his chelidon, then smoothing a thumb into the depression as his heart hammers up his throat -- pressing a disarray of words against his palate. They linger by his uvula, gagging him into stunned silence, until he can finally choke out an uneven, “Do you wanna go back to my room?”

As soon as the question was in the air, buzzing unattended between your faces, Tomura wanted to claw out his eyeballs. Maybe rip out his tongue, too. Such gore would surely erase any memories of his implying he thought he had a chance with you. That was far preferable to the disgust about to cross your face.

Except, that disgust never comes.

Alternatively, you nod, “Sounds fun!”

Tomura kept his area tidy enough. A stack of bowls, two cups, three empty Dr. Pepper cans, and a single Maruchan ramen cup on his desk. A lump of clothes he’s procrastinated washing carefully lines the edge of his bed. But that was all, really.

He wanted his room to be livable, and if he felt so childish as to be proud of it then he liked the sight of his uncluttered carpet. How easily he could make the trek from bed to computer to door (and, of course, the desultory detours to his bookcase or closet) without tripping on trash or abundantly strewn clothes. If he felt further inclined to childishness, Tomura even congratulated himself on maintaining a room cleaner than Touya’s.

Even despite the stacked bowls and cups on his desk and emptied soda bottles cluttering his desk legs.

None of that is sufficient anymore. He’s inspecting your face like it’ll burst open with an alien race for any sign of judgment. Cautiously, Tomura kicks a tangle of loose shirts under his bed while you’re distracted ogling his decorated shelves.

“You like Omori?” your question startles him from kicking a pair of boxers under his bed.

“Huh?”

You’re pointing at a lineup of four acrylic stands -- not the complete set, Tomura only burdened his wallet with purchasing the main party over including Basil and Mari -- on the top shelf of his bookcase, “Omori, right? I didn’t think you’d like that type of game.”

“Do I not look like I would?” he doesn’t know why that inference hurts his feelings. Shamefully, he cards his fingers through his knotted hair, slotting more locks behind his ear, “I played it a long time ago. Now I’m too busy for anything else story-driven, so I’m mostly on League. Or Overwatch if I feel like killing myself.”

“You don’t look like you like suffering, I guess is what I meant,” you draw your bottom lip up between your teeth (he hopes it doesn’t sting, he wants to kiss it better if it does), “But knowing you play Overwatch…”

“I try to avoid it,” Tomura prays his self-grooming is subtle, or at least lowkey enough for you to not notice as you continue browsing his various knick knacks and figures, “You game?”

“Eh, RPGs usually. I don’t like working with others when I play, it makes me nervous to screw up.”

“That’s cute,” he doesn’t mean to say it aloud, honestly. Two measly words small enough to slip through his pursed lips. Two words big enough to ruin his night.

“Think so?” but you’re… smiling again.

“I guess,” Tomura’s eyes shift quickly over to his pillows. Are they soft enough? Should he flip them over? What the hell is fluffing, and does it actually do anything?

“Are you usually this shy? Or am I special?”

Not often does Tomura feel truly helpless, but your incessant teasing pairs lethally with your fluttering lashes and painted lips. He wishes he were more accustomed to conversing with strangers, especially pretty strangers that were interested in him. Part of him wants to believe that if you’re attracted to him now, you’ll be stubborn enough to stick out whatever cluelessness he bumbles out -- but he doesn’t. He simply cannot bring himself to buy that.

“You’re making me nervous, like I’m about to puke.”

“Flattering,” you join Tomura on his bed, soft knee nudging his, “I hope you don’t. It’d kinda ruin the mood.”

He’s terribly unable to keep the casanova impersonation up, though, “What mood?”

You throw your head back and laugh. Hearty and full and so mortifying for him, worse are your next words, “You know why people go into private rooms at parties, right?”

“Uhh…”

“You do. I do, too. That’s why I came back here, you know? If you only wanna talk, that’s fine -- you’re fun to just talk to! But I came back here ‘cuz I want to have sex with you, if you want to, too.”

Tomura can feel that dreaded heartbeat climbing up his chest and into his gullet again.

“You’re forward…”

You shrug, “I know what I want.”

Tomura claws at his sweatpants, chest aching and fingers numb from how your eyes are zeroed on him. He nods slowly, racketing another giggle from your chest -- you lean closer, your hand brushes his.

“Yeah?” you coax a hand around Tomura’s far shoulder, swiveling him to face you.

A rattle and hum from his ceiling fan gurgles the sound of his reply, you hate it.

From the shape of his lips, you can make out his agreement. With no specific intent and only a general sense of lust to guide him, Tomura leans into your touch. Snatching his hands, you shuffle his palms under your shirt, sifting the flesh up your warm belly until they’re cupping your tits. He squeezes blindly, teetering closer along his mattress. Finally, you strip off your top -- then greedily going for Tomura’s as well. He contently allows it, even lifting his arms to grant the removal.

“You’re so pretty,” Tomura noses at your neck, hot puffs of air warming your skin, “Can’t believe you’re actually here.”

His hands are soft from a lax life, if slightly clammy with nerves, and they feel nice squeezing around your hips. Tomura dips his pelvis downward, keeping your thighs scooped snug around him -- bonus for the momentary relief of pressure against his aching groin. His fingers bow beneath the waistband of your skirt until your own are tethering his in place.

“Can I leave the skirt on?” your thighs tighten around Tomura’s slim waist, you tilt your head so your soft lips press against his cheek, “Its kinda hot. To me.”

Tomura rolls his shoulders, whole body shuddering at the request. He nods with clenched eyes, digging his nails into your skin -- he likes your idea more than he can put into words (granted, his tongue may as well be superglued to his teeth right now).

“I can do that,” he manages to scrape out, drawing his fingers down the bunched material of your skirt and up your thighs, “Can I take these off?”

“Please,” you cant your hips up for Tomura to yank off your panties, he bundles them in one hand and stows the other where the material once laid. You swear you hear him whimper at the contact.

His fingers dance up your slit, gentle massaging that intensifies upon introduction of his thumb on your clit. Tomura drops your underwear off the side of his bed and uses the freed palm to work off his sweatpants, but just before he can snap the drawstring -- he stops completely.

“Wait,” he pants, “Hang on. Don’t move.”

Tomura runs out like he’s caught fire, slamming his bedroom door shut behind him and leaving you splayed on his mattress.

He returns with a fist curled around something, and determination written in the lines of his face. Replacing himself between your thighs, Tomura hides the contents in his hand under the pillow beneath you. Before you can shoot any questions, he’s lifting your skirt and lowering his chest to the bed.

As if he can sense the curiosity burning away your mood, Tomura hurriedly buries his face in your cunt.

One gasp is stuttered short by another, Tomura flicks his tongue inside you with a groan. Pulling back only to spit on your clit, the liquid bubbling down your slit until it catches on his prodding fingertips -- your thighs jolt around his shoulders at the act. Middle finger worming into you with ease, Tomura’s burdened by the vestige of Touya’s hand on his shoulder and husks into his ear.

Yeah, condoms are in the top drawer. You need advice?

He’d been uneasy initially, nodding uncertainly, but Tomura’s grateful now.

Just as he’d been instructed, Tomura curls his middle finger and screws the pad up until- your knee knocks into his skull and he keens at the rough treatment.

“S-sorry,” you stammer out, chest arching up.

Bypassing your apology, Tomura flattens his tongue on your clit and slithers a second finger inside you. Surely by tomorrow, his arm will be sore with the work he’s pushing through, but he’s equally sure it’s worth it as you clamp around him and seize.

Strumming your gspot in time with your clit, Tomura loses himself in the thought of how your snatch would feel around his cock -- grinding against the marshmallow mattress below to relieve the pressure. Your only relief is how he greedily sucks your clit; he lets you grab his hair with both hands and roughly tug him to and fro. He lets you fuck his face, eats it up in earnest.

Prying your thighs back from his ears, Tomura shoves his sweatpants down and reaches under your head. Pulling back a foil square that crinkles with each nervous shake of his hand. Tomura’s plain black boxers soon crash to the floor as well.

“Hey,” your voice pipes up meekly, a little slurred after your orgasm. Drowsy eyes half-lidded and even sweeter on him, “Can you, uh…”

Tomura’s burning hot, flushed and vaguely sticky; bangs slickened against his face with sweat and cum. His breathlessness axiomatic of how little composure he could maintain, “What?”

“Don’t…” a shyness that now seems bizarre overtakes you, your fingers curl into his palm and unfurl the condom from his grasp, “You shouldn’t… I wanna feel you.”

He blinks down at you vapidly. So stupidly blank he's immediately ashamed of himself for blanching at your plea.

“You want it too, right?” you reach up and paw at Tomura's shoulders, “You wanna fuck me raw?”

“Uh-huh,” again dumb.

Tomura spares that response no reconsideration, instead preoccupied by holding your thighs open to nudge his cock into you. His tip bobs at your clit in the first few jerks, but his thinly construed patience is rewarded on the third attempt. You tug on his hair as Tomura humps into your sex.

He whines upon feeling that first squeeze and suck of entering your cunt, his pelvis itching up against your clit with every thrust. Blunt nails carve into the fat of your thighs, pulling you impossibly closer -- Tomura’s cock carves deep into your gut, hot and heavy. Chapped lips sear up the length of your neck, his chest squashing against yours, he teeths at the lump of your pulse and lathes the thumping point with his tongue. Budding his knees right beneath your ass, Tomura burdens the tops of his thighs against yours. Then wrapping your waist with both arms, continuing to suck your soft skin between his teeth.

Tomura gasps as the warmth of your hands finds his back, rolling lower and lower until you’re actively pushing him closer. He likes this -- loves it, even. He’s horrified to know he could’ve been having sex his entire college career and simply didn’t.

He’s further horrified that perhaps he’ll never have sex again when you leave (but mostly, he’s finding that he just doesn’t want you to leave).

“Be my girlfriend,” delirious, he’s babbling into your ear, whining and shuttering and smothering your body with his, “Be my girlfriend…! Wanna fuck you every day-- need you every day. So fucking warm and soft, all perfect for my cock,” Tomura pulls up from your neck to kiss the thin stretch of skin over your collarbones and treading to your breasts, “Like you’re made for taking it.”

What you want is to have the mental cognition to respond to him kindly, but what you have is a mushy brain and a flourishing climax scorching through your body. Grey matter melting into the bowl of your skull as Tomura kisses and pants into your tits.

“Tomu’-!” is all you can manage to squeal, nails digging jagged red lines down the man’s back.

“You cumming?” he reaches between your bodies to incise the pads of his fingers across your sodden clit.

A final push into your sensitive body, the attention spiking your head back into his pillow. Faintly, through the rush of dopamine pumping through your extremities to where your hanging mouth is expelling wanton wails of Tomu’! and yes, God! and cumming!, you can hear Tomura. You can hear him chuckling low and deep with ecstasy, “So pretty when you cum. Squeezing me so tight, too. You like me that much?”

He whines unexpectedly, wrenching both hands to your hips and branding the imprint of his calloused palms there.

“You’re gonna make me cum,” he grits his teeth, scratchy throat puking up pulpy, disjointed moans of your name and fuck, fuck fucks, “I’m gonna cum,” he latches onto your tit, muffling his pathetic mewls as your legs lock him in your cunt (trembly and weak as they may be), “Cumming, cumming- ! Fuck!”

Stilling above you, Tomura chokes out soft breaths and murmurs of appreciation as he cums. Sincerely thanking you as his spend paints your insides. Collapsing on you once his balls are empty. Tomura barely has the wherewithal to roll onto his side in order to avoid overheating you under him.

A rattle and hum from his ceiling fan regains your attention, but this time it doesn’t seem too bad. You can’t find yourself to be very annoyed, even when the music pumping from outside vibrates Tomura’s bedroom door. Above those sounds, the one you appreciate most is the soft pelting of Tomura’s breath against your neck; damp with a mixture of sweat and his saliva, and sore from his incessant teething.

“Did you mean it?” you’re probably being mean, asking such a layered question so immediately after his release.

“About?” his voice is raggedy, sharp to a bladepoint -- if you couldn’t see the dazed, awestruck film over his lidded eyes, you’d mistake him as trying to be rude.

“Me being your girlfriend. Did you actually mean that? Or did your dick have the braincell?”

“Oh,” Tomura pushes onto his elbows, arms shaking, his hair drops over his face and this time you’re the one to brush it behind his ear. Despite cumming in you minutes ago, he blushes at the gesture and looks at your bruising neck rather than your eyes, “I guess. I don’t have a car, so I can’t drive you around for dates.”

“I can take the bus, you know,” you laugh at how Tomura’s face suddenly sours at your words.

“As if I’d let my girlfriend take the bus by herself. Do you know how many freaks go on that thing?”

“‘Cuz you’d know.”

“Yeah, I’m one of them,” the giddiness rising in his chest over your giggling at his jab quickly overtakes his face, cheeks burning with a proud smile. Tomura hides his face in your neck, “I guess it’s up to you.”

“It's up to me if you were serious or not?”

Quietly, he hums, then rasps out something you could construe as a joke if you didn’t care so much about how he felt, “I only open to begging in the sheets. Being desperate to date the first girl I fuck is so pathetic.”

Which is so insane to you because you met this man only a few hours ago.

A broiling affection that builds between the slats of your ribs, bricking off your lungs and heart just to cook them up hot and gooey and primed for the man on your chest. At least Tomura’s burgeoning crush could be reasoned away with the fact he’s a recent ex-virgin (not like you, with visitors running rarer than Tanzanite).

Still fluttery and alight with the wash of your orgasm, you give your heart the braincell and nod sluggishly, “Yeah. I want you to be serious.”

Decidedly, you spare no mind how you two barely know each other.

[love-me-satoru]

Not the thought of yandere!Boyfriend that would tie up some random guy that was flirting with you and then fuck you in front of them.Them squirming against the ropes watching your tear filled eyes. Loud moans and your boyfriends fat fucking cock pushing into you at a brutal pace. Their cock straining against their jeans. “Look baby he’s hard.” You couldn’t process your boyfriends words until his hand wrapped around your throat Pulling you flushed against his front. “I said look slut.” your eyes glancing back at the man tied to the chair. “Good girl.. Now cum for me baby. Show him what he’ll never get.”

[ghostcore3]

i think (if i’m not mistaken) shigaraki is the only one in the game who had 2 suggestive lines and you’re telling me this guy doesn’t watch porn?

[myahs-delulu-palace]

Risqué pic

Scenario: Shigaraki has a online girlfriend who he loves very much. One night she sends him a risqué photo of herself which led Shigaraki to get a lil….excited 👅

Tw// Shigaraki basically stroking his shit 😱

———————————————————————

His girlfriend was such a tease. She just HAD to send him that photo right when he was in front of everyone in the league. Just her…full blown naked on screen. The look on his face was priceless, he was utterly shocked as was the rest of the league.

Shigaraki couldn’t help but get hard almost immediately before standing up and quickly heading to his room, not before Dabi jokingly shouted.

“Don’t forget to lock your door!” He said with a snicker. That bastard. Shigaraki slammed his room door and locked before walking over to his bed and sitting on it, looking over the picture again. God…his girlfriend was so beautiful…and just staring at the photo made him even more excited as he felt his pants get tighter to the point it made him uncomfortable.

Shigaraki couldn’t hold it any longer as he quickly pulled off his pants, kicking them off his legs as he slowly started to touch himself through his boxers. Rubbing his fingers around his clothed cock. The thought of her…and the thought of that photo…was making him drool. He wanted her to be there with him so bad. He wanted to take her here and now in real life. But this would have to do for now…

Just thinking about her pretty face, her sexy voice, her amazing constructed body…made him even more turned on as he started to take off his boxers, leaving him totally bare underneath. He took his dick as started to stroke it slightly. Precum already coming out just a bit from now turned on he was.

Shigaraki was making up fake scenarios in his head as he kept stroking his cock. He twitched and let out shaky breaths and moans as he did. At this point, all he could think about was her. Shigaraki fastened his pace, whimpering and moaning more and more louder. Not caring if anyone else in the base heard him.

Thoughts of her filled his mind up. He was on cloud nine…he was imagining everything he’d do to her as he kept quickening his past more and more. He wanted her so badly.

Shiggy was closing in on his limit…he felt like he was going to explode any minute now, but he kept going. Wanting to finish his fantasies and go as far as he can before releasing. He started to shakily call out his girlfriend’s name in moans now. It’s all he could think about other than his pleasure as he was at the very edge to his release.

Eventually, Shigaraki couldn’t hold back any more and let out a loud moan which filled his entire room as he came everywhere. He fell backwards on his bed and panted. Trying to calm down from the high of his orgasm.

Once he calmed down got up to clean himself off before texting his girlfriend, who had been waiting for his reply since she sent the photo.

“Thank you babe. I put that to good use.”

———————————————————————

Second smut I’ve wrote in my life soo…yeah. At least it’s not as long as the Overhaul one I did 😭 hope you enjoyed reading!!

{btw the ending kinda ass cuz I’m bad at writing endings 💀 not to mention I ain’t know what to put at the end}

[ryo-apologist]

Camboy! Shigaraki

Shigaraki Tomura x Reader

CW: Smut, Minors DNI, I will block your ass. Exhibitionism, being filmed, spanking with a toy, nipple play, degradation.

AN: I tried to keep it pretty GN, if I missed something let me know. Because of this, I don't mention a hole specifically, so use your imaginations <3

~Darling XOXO

☾ Camboy! Shigaraki who remains faceless the entire time he's on camera. He's the leader of an entire army, he can't have his entire being called into question because he likes the attention.

☾ Camboy! Shigaraki who started this whole thing because he saw far uglier men on porn sites raking in hundreds of thousands of yen and for what? He knows he's better looking than at least half of them, and who ever complains about extra money?

☾ Camboy! Shigaraki who holds that ideology but really, he loves the attention. He's such an attention slut that you throw enough money at him on stream and he'll do anything.

☾ Camboy! Shigaraki who loves edging himself on stream because it's just a special kind of torture. Stroking up and down the shaft of his cock and watching it twitch with ever drag of his hand. Thumbing over the head just to collect the bulb of pre-cum already dripping out only to slather it in a slow circle and watch as the light sheens off of it. Reaching his other hand to squeeze his own balls because it feels so good and this is for him and him alone. Everyone watching is lucky that they get to experience such a thing.

☾ Camboy! Shigaraki who is originally adamant on not bringing you on until Dabi makes a comment about how much more viewers money two person streams bring in. While Dabi was talking about two women streams, Shigaraki is already taking this idea and running with it.

☾ Camboy! Shigaraki who teases the idea on stream for weeks just to garner his audience's opinions. He watches as the numbers start rolling in when he starts moaning about fucking you're tight little hole and leaving you a dripping mess for their pleasure.

☾ Camboy! Shigaraki who reads every single comment he gets, about how people are blowing their loads to just the thought of watching anyone get fucked by his cock, whether it's them or not. People volunteering themselves, even if he knows nobody will ever reach your level.

☾ Camboy! Shigaraki who's disgusted by the idea at first, but soon realizes what this mean. This isn't just a way to make money, or get all the attention he was deprived of as a child, no.

☾ Camboy! Shigaraki who realizes this is a way to stake a claim. This is a way to absolute ruin his little whore in all the ways he's ever dreamed of and to send a message to everyone who's debauched enough to lose their shit over him of all people.

☾ Camboy! Shigaraki who knows this will be a message that he's better than them in every single way. He has an army, he's the most wanted villain in Japan, he's dangerous and lethal, and yet he's still getting laid more than they are. That he has this perfect little cum sleeve waiting for him at the drop of a dime.

☾ Camboy! Shigaraki who grows so hard at the thought on stream he's nearly breaking his thirty minute edging streak at the thought of absolutely wrecking you on camera and leaving you to moan his name for everyone to hear. Because he's the only one who gets to talk to you like this. He's the only one who gets to touch you like that. He's the only one who gets to fuck you and leave your whole gaping for his cock and his cock alone, after all, he's worked so hard to carve out a spot in you for his dick alone. For him to fuck and sully and leave flooded with his cum.

☾ Camboy! Shigaraki who doesn't need much more convincing after that.

Your head hurts.

His fingers are threading so close to the roots of your hair that a small part of your brain is firing off a number of warning signs that he could kill you then and there. The red flags are numbed and buzzed out by the euphoria of simply having him there. You can barely find yourself caring about his hands when the delicious stretch of his cock is filling you all over again. When the sound of his balls clapping against your ass cheeks is ringing in your ears over and over again.

When your eyes are focused on the lens of the camera in front of you. The red light is haunting in the sense that you know exactly what's being broadcasting. An audience of thousands, maybe more, is watching you get your back blown out with heavy drops of cum already dripping down your thighs.

Your back is arched nice and pretty for Tomura, with his one hand pinning you by your head and the other is too busy holding your hips, the only thing saving your life being the arch of his own pinkies to keep them from touching your delicate flesh. Sweat is coating your skin in an uncomfortable layer, but you can't even find it in yourself to care.

There's a chime and the sound effect of coins falling, and you whine out as the vibrators taped to your nipples light up once again. They buzz happily against your sensitive nubs and your entire body scrunches as you keen and shudder. The hand in your hair pulls slightly in a warning.

"Naughty slut." He hisses, low and deep and it sends your entire nervous system into a tizzy. "Gonna cum? I didn't say you could do that."

"'m sorry-" You gasp out, fingers tightening their gasp on the sheets beneath you. "Not gonna cum." You swear thought you can feel that neither of you truly believe that.

Tomura grants you a sliver of relief and stops moving.

The hand on your hip leaves and you're almost tempted to look back, but that's against the rules. So you don't.

You do let out a yelp of shock, or maybe pain, as the stiff surface of his paddle rockets against your awaiting ass cheek. You groan and clench and you can hear Tomura let out his own noise as the paddle lowers to rest it's cool face on the burning flesh of your ass.

"That's my good cum sleeve."

There's another chime and the returning noise of coins falling. The vibrators you hadn't even noticed had turned off come to life again. The paddle swings and your entire body clenches as euphoria runs through your veins, quickly followed by the shame of disobedience which ruins your orgasm before it can even finish.

Right after you feel the rush of warmth as another load of cum fills you more than you thought possible.

Another chime has you crying out in agonized glee.

[shiggcel]

getting called shiggy's "good little girl" as he frantically fucks into you

[uravitypng]

dabi's talking about you to shigaraki while you're still in the room but he's paying no attention to you, treating you like you're not even there. you would typically call him out on his behaviour but right now he's telling shigaraki how much you're a good girl for him in bed and you freeze up and get flustered and it's hard not to when he's telling your boss how well you follow orders. "come here doll," he calls barely looking at you. you're confused and nervous but you start walking over to him. shigaraki smirks at the display. "kneel." your supple thighs expand as you immediately drop to you knees, realising that dabi is showing off and if you misbehave it could go very badly, you're in a room alone with two of the most dangerous people on the planet, granted dabi is your boyfriend but that's never stopped him getting angry at you.

dabi just pets your head laughing before turning back to shigaraki and carrying over the conversation. "i didn't have to train her or nothing, it's kind of pathetic really as soon she joined the league she did everything i asked trying to get my attention." you look up at him slightly frowning, he just pushes your head back down. "sometimes she'd look up at me with these doe eyes trying to be all innocent like, asking if i needed help on something. after awhile i gave in and fucked her like the whore she is. she's desperate, always trying to please, it really is pitiful."

"can i see?" you hear shigaraki rasp but you don't realise what he's talking about until you see him gesturing towards your soft body.

"what's in it for me?" dabi casually replies, you can't help but tense up, you don't know what shigaraki wants with you but he's never been one to sit and watch when he wants something, he takes. and right now with the way he's looking you've never been more scared of him before.

"whatever you want."

"okay."

your heart drops.

[mamayan]

don’t think i didn’t see this yannie

you know what you have to do now

shiggy step on us with his big feet

This is my third time writing this because Tumblr has eaten my work twice. I will actually slaughter the entity that is tumblr, pull it’s intestines out and use them as a fucking jump rope, if I lose it for a third time. This time I didn’t delete my work on Google doc once I “saved” it to Tumblr. Enjoy some Shiggy nastiness babe♥️ 

Shigaraki Tomura x Fem! Reader

tw: All of them NONCON • DUBCON • Rough Sex • Anal Fingering • Degradation • Humiliation • Breath Play (noncon)

You knew better.

In all the time you’ve known him, you knew better than always show your true feelings.

For the most part it hardly mattered, it was second nature not to flinch at the death and destruction he left behind him.

It was the little things which got you. The mundane and unimportant. It was the times he’d let you completely relax, to feel utterly safe and content, that you’d slip up.

He’d been playing video games for the last few hours while you’d been reading. Mindlessly flipping pages and switching between dreams and wakefulness. Wearing his shirt and only a plain pair of underwear, you were content to laze about the day as he was.

You didn’t notice a set of dull garnet eyes soaking you up. The sight of you made his skin itch and teeth ache. On his bed. In his clothes. Reading a graphic novel he recommended.

You were a pretty picture, even to his delusional standards.

This was Tomura though, so his show of love could never be conventional. At best, mildly annoying and at worst, horrendously violent.

You weren’t prepared for a socked foot to nudge your cheek, the scent of sour sweat and mildew entering your nose and causing your face to scrunch up as your stomach recoiled. You nearly threw up, the thought of feet and the smell enough to have you panicking and losing yourself for just a moment as you flinched away.

“That’s fucking gross Tomu—,” it was too late to redact that statement dripping with revulsion.

Too late to stop the dawning of this new information from his calculating mind. Too late when his face showed surprise, only to be followed by a grotesque smile that had your insides curling for a different reason. It was too late to run when his hand gripped your wrist just as you’d moved to throw yourself off the bed.

“Fucking gross?” You winced at his grating tone, his lip splitting grin speaking only of evil intentions as his eyes crinkled unnaturally around the edges. “You think I’m gross?”

“N-no that’s not what I meant—,” he cut you off with a laugh, the sound reverberating around the room. It was rolling and filled with dark amusement.

“Then what did you mean princess? Hm?” You were shaking. It was obvious nothing good was coming, his saccharine tone as he called you princess telling of the nightmare sure to follow. You couldn’t pull out of his grip, the strength he’d placed initially only growing as the seconds tickled by, becoming painful as you jerked. “Got nothing to say?” He chuckles, his gleeful face not matching the cruel intensity of his actions.

He’s doesn’t hesitate to nearly dislocate your shoulder as he throws you to the floor, blue strands of hair falling into his vision as he stomps down on your chest when you attempt to get up.

It didn’t matter you were crying now.

If anything it seemed to spur him on, as he palmed his hardening cock through his sweatpants.

“Common princess, you didn’t really think I’d let this go, did you? I asked you a fucking question.” You gasp in pain as he increases the pressure on your sternum, air becoming difficult when you couldn’t expand your lungs to drag any oxygen in. Crystalline tears pooled in your eyes, dotting your lashes as you pathetically struggled beneath his foot, trying to grip his ankle and remove the pressure.

“N-no—,” you could hardly breathe and the panic seeping into your system made answering or even thinking difficult.

He let up, lifting his foot as you rolled to your side and gasped for air like a fish out of water. The burning in your lungs ebbing but a dull ache remaining as you coughed and sputtered.

He was hardly done with you.

Easily slipping from his socks, he snickered in amusement as he kicked you over to your stomach, foot digging into your shoulder blades as you whine in protest.

“What? Not going to call my feet gross again? They’re all over you now slut.” He rolls his eyes as you whimper out a stuttered apology.

It’s too late for that now.

Dropping to his knees, he easily grips your hips and lifts your ass into the air.

He was going to show a little mercy, but when you tried to push your chest up too, he easily lifted his left foot and smashed your pretty face into the carpet with it.

“Ngh!” Your cry of surprise and pain only making him giggle as he yanks your underwear down to the middle of your thighs. Enjoying the way his shirt on you slides up to your chest and gives him a nice view of the underside of your breasts and soft stomach.

Tomura doesn’t hesitate to land a sharp slap to your now exposed cunt, licking his chapped lips as the wetness clinging to his fingers when he pulls away. Your cry and jolt of shock only furthering his rough treatment with you, as he meanly shoves two dry and bony fingers inside you.

“Tomu—!” you can only dig your fingers into the carpet and try to breathe, because the foot on your head hurts. His toes already tangled in your hair and tearing strands out as he shifts to work you open.

He’s not looking to get you off. When his fingers are sufficiently wet enough for his standards, he happily drags them out of your tight warm walls and up to your puckered asshole.

“Please—,” you can hardly see through the tears, but when the pressure on your head increases you’re forced to relax as he shoves both into your ass.

“Shut up!” He all but snarls, furious at having his fun interrupted by your stupid whining.

“You act like you don’t like my fucking feet, but you’re really just a dirty whore who fucking loves this, aren’t you?” He spreads his fingers, lighting up all your pain censors as he leans over to spit in the small gap he made, before fucking it into you quick and fast.

“Hurts!” Your hiss of pain through gritted teeth is ignored as he lifts his foot off your face, letting your turn your head enough for fresh air and a sigh of relief as he removes his fingers too.

You don’t see him stand, but when your back is forced to arch further with a hand in the middle of it, you cringe as you hear the sound of rustling clothes.

Tomura drops his pants enough to free his cock, rutting into his palm and roughly jerking himself before lining up with your cunt.

“You say it hurts but this cunt is dripping isn’t it slut?” He sneers, keeping you pinned and laughing at your scrunched up features. Your pretty cheeks wet and puffy, snot and tears covering you along with your sweat making strands of hair stick to your forehead.

He hunches over you again, moving one hand back to your hip and swinging his leg around to smash his foot against your face now, snorting in laughter at your cry of outrage. Your cheek burns, your tears and the carpet rubbing your skin raw as you feel his thick tip begin to push into your pussy.

You weren’t actually wet enough despite his words, the stretch and sting bringing a fresh wave of tears as you sob out loud now.

“M’sorry Tomu’ please, hurts, please—,” your begging does nothing but make him shove deeper faster, trying to jam his cock into your tight hole despite the resistance of your clenching walls.

“Fucking relax, or I’ll fuck your ass,” his threat only served to further frighten you, bearing down almost painfully on him.

His moan of pleasure is your only comfort. “So fucking tight,” his hips jerk, rocking unevenly inside of you, before finally having mercy and letting his spit slick you up a little more. The rough skin of his foot slips a little on your tears, moving his toes closer to your mouth and nose as he loses himself to his own pleasure.

You’re left helpless and weighed down as he essentially uses your face and hips as leverage to fuck harder down into you.

As it gets harder to keep himself up, he drops to one knee and bears down more weight on you. You struggle to breathe or even think as his cock works to open you, balls slapping against your clit in a steady rhythm.

“That’s it slut, you like this don’t you princess? You gonna cum with my gross fucking feet in your mouth? Haha!” He’s delirious in pleasure as he fucks you, hips slamming

His disgusting untrimmed toenails digging into the soft skin of your lips as your tongue hangs out in pleasure, his face giddy looking at your fucked out expression with his foot on it.

“That’s it bitch, I knew you’d like this,” his gaze dark as he watches you, letting his toes wiggle into your mouth and grunting as your core tightens. “This cunt likes it at least,” he grunts, feeling his balls draw tight as he gasps and works his hips faster.

“Go ahead and cum princess, with my filthy fucking feet in your mouth like the slut you are, hah, fuck yes, that’s it,” you couldn’t stop your orgasm even if you wanted to, crying out around his dirty toes as your body convulses beneath him.

He fills your pussy moments later, moaning loudly as his cock twitches and spills inside. Panting heavily as he catches his breath, Tomura’s eyes crack open to stare down at you.

He removes his foot to reveal your messy appearance, too exhausted at this point to do much else but lay pliant below him. Your lip is split, eyes blurry and unfocused, with cheeks stained in drying salty tears.

Tomura chuckles as he pulls out, watching your pussy twitch and push all his warm cum out and down your shaking thighs.

He stuffs his half hard cock back into his sweats he pulls up, standing and stretching his sore side.

“Look who’s fucking gross now bitch,” he grins, digging his phone out of his pocket and snapping a couple pictures, the flash blinding you for a moment.

He intended to set it as his new screensaver.

[kinq-sleazee]

MDNI| toxic relationship, accidentally hurt by his quirk, gaslighting, manipulating, suggestive content , a need for therapy :(

shigaraki cries when you threaten to leave. no, not earth shattering sobs but silent tears that spill from the ducts as he watches you pack. you’re turned away because you can’t bear to look at him. “i knew you would leave me… just like everyone else”. his voice is hoarse and raspy, a dejected tone that claws at your soul. you pause your actions, clutching at the handles of the suitcase to take a deep breath. he approaches tentatively, like a lion studying a lamb. “i can’t keep doing this, Tomura” he winces, disgusted by the bitter sound of his given name from your lips. “how many times do i have to say m’sorry, angel”? the man reaches for your bruised and bandaged arm—evidence of his temper. “didn’t wanna hurt you, baby. just wanted you to listen, you know i hate it when people don’t listen to me”. you snatch away, tears threatening to fall. “people ?” you hiss, “I’m your girlfriend , tomura. you don’t get to treat me like your minions!” he goes silent. you still haven’t looked at him. and chest heaving with fists clenched. and even with the vortex of emotion he can only focus on one thing. “you’re so beautiful when you cry”. it’s dry and mirthless, your laugh. “god—you’re sick”. he shrugs, “you’ve known that from the beginning”. he’s right about that , at least. you’re still not looking at him and he needs that to change. he knows if you’ll just meet his eyes then it’ll be fine ! “it’s not my fault that i’m like this. i was beaten, bruised and abandoned. being discarded is why i am the way i am” he sniffs, “i just hoped that you…” he trails off, knowing that your kind heart wanted nothing more than to comfort him. he can see it in the way your hands flex. “don’t you love me anymore, angel ?” your body stiffens. he has you now, and he knows it. hook, line and sinker. of course you meet his gaze, eyes brimming with tears. so full of love and utter devotion. it’s foolish really. you’re too good for this world. too good for him. he knows it too but he is a deteriorating corpse in a vast desert and you are a tropical oasis. you are his salvation. he needs you. and you love him. crimson renders you motionless, with him walking you backwards against the wall. “baby, my angel” it’s whispered against your skin. his head tucked in the crook of your neck to graze the sensitive flesh there with his teeth. “i need you, angel. don’t you know that ?” his tongue trails upwards, a glistening path up your face to capture the salty tears that linger. roughly, he palms your breast and gropes your ass. small pecks across your cheeks until his lips meet your own. you try to resist, really you do, but his teeth break the skin making you gasp and he bullies his way against your tongue. the kiss is raw and passionate and bloody and you feel yourself drowning once again. “you are mines, angel. i’d kill us both, before i ever let you leave me”. it’s not a threat, it’s a promise between lovers , whispered sweetly as he falls to his knees, pulling your tights down with him. a kiss is pressed to your mound, followed by the rough pad of his thumb. your knees buckle, but he holds you steady. “don’t worry, baby, i’ve got you. i’m never letting go”. you made shigaraki cry when you threatened to leave, but he made you cry and beg to cum.

[yanderenightmare]

thinking about Touya and Tomura fucking a pretty little virgin and keeping her collared in their bed as their shy, slutty cumdump

Shigaraki Tomura x darling x Dabi

TW: NSFW, dubcon/noncon, power dynamic, captive darling

fem reader

They don’t seem to enjoy each other’s company that much...

Patchface and Fugly aren’t exactly names of endearment...

Tomura seems to think he’s in charge, but Dabi’s never shown any sign of respect for that – they both just do what they want. Fighting each other with childish insults – sometimes the odd shirt grab or childish push – but never actually throwing down.

You don’t understand the nature of their relationship. They behave more like brothers than anything – forced to share the same toy – you.

Tomura is the more clingy of the two. Cuddly with you – always lazing on you like you’re his personal plush. He sleeps a lot – lies with his arms around your waist and his head in your tits – drool dribbling down his chin, getting sticky on your skin. And when he doesn’t sleep, he’s sitting in his chair – three screens making his eyes beady and baggy. He’ll often keep you on his lap – his massive girth wearing you like a fleshlight as he clicks away on his controller.

Dabi is cuddly, too, but you wouldn’t call him clingy. He prefers it when you lie against his chest. He likes to stroke his fingers up and down your skin – play a little – lick you with blue flames, just enough for it to sting just a bit. He’s somehow lazier than Tomura – always in the bed with a blunt between his lips – rolling more – sucking the slim roll while you suck him. The air in the room is always thick with it.

They’re both trigger-happy – horny at the drop of a hat. Utterly shameless with it, too – stroking their hard lengths against your warm flesh even while you sleep. Sometimes you wake up with their cum smeared on your skin – other times you wake up with one of them inside you.

Dabi reeks of cigarettes and catpiss, and Tomura isn’t much different – dry sweat and boozy breaths.

You don’t think either of them has been with too many girls. Nor does it seem that either of them has had any proper education. Schooled by the internet – incel chatrooms and porn. You often have to raise your brow at their misogyny.

You find Tomura harbors more pure resentment towards you in that aspect – sometimes so cruel, forcing you to beg him for his mercy – when he’ll keep your throat in a four-fingered lock – the fifth ghosting the skin until he’s properly satisfied with the number of tears running down your cheeks. He calls you a pretty girl, but more so as an insult – a pretty bitch only worth taking his cum.

Dabi seems to have his rage focused elsewhere – on some distant goal. He’ll brood over it in silence – often long into the night. You’ll wake up only to see he has yet to fall asleep – but you don’t dare ask him about it. He can be just as ill-tempered as Tomura if you don’t watch yourself.

They both bite harder than they bark.

[yourfavouriterival]

enticed

tomura shigaraki x fem! lov! reader smut

warnings: mutual masturbation also blue hair shiggy, slight degredation, some praising, sort of knife play (there is a knife involved but not used to harm), humping, oral (female recieving), reader wears a skirt in this one, switch!shiggy more than hinted at bc hot, fluff at the end

word count: 2.6k

summary: sex with shiggy when you've snuck away

-

“sh—show me,” he ordered, reclined in the desk chair with his blue hair tousled against the headrest, panting into the open air in front of him; and though his body might’ve been relaxed and nonchalant, his eyes remained hyperfocused on her, one hundred percent. 

“spread your legs,” he groaned, that raspy voice sending shivers down her spine and resulting in, through no doing of her own, her knees opening to show him what they both craved. “god,” he groaned, pressing his head back into the chair and letting his eyes fall closed. 

she knew what he saw: a wet patch in the middle of lacy panties and naked thighs shaking with the tension of the moment. and she knew what she saw: a tent against the zipper of his (ratty, to be honest) pants, and if she focused hard enough, she thought she could see the beat of his heart in his underwear. 

she placed her sock-covered feet onto the arm rests of the chair, leaning back onto her palms on the desk she sat on. how did she get here, perched on a random desk and showing off her cunt to shigaraki, the named man staring at her like he wanted to absolutely devour her?  

but then again, she could say the same thing about herself—what she wouldn’t give to be on her knees with him deep down her throat—with the way she, too, was devouring the image of the blue-haired villain panting because of something she did.

“please,” she whined, dropping her head against her shoulders.

“look at me,” he commanded, and it was like he was yanking at her head with the way it shot back up to make eye-contact with him. god, she loved his eyes. was that weird?

“i’ll—i’ll beg, just—”

“don’t be a slut,” he tutted, but then he was unbuttoning his pants with two fingers (somehow) and slipping a hand into his pants. “just sit there and be good. let me look at you, okay?”

“okay,” she whispered back, but she could feel her own wetness glide through her folds when she twitched. she wondered if she could cum from rubbing her thighs together, but more than cumming she wanted to be good for him. 

just days ago, she barely knew the man—had only heard of him through the news—and now she was not only a part of his little league, but was allowed to watch him, in this way?

she watched as his hand grasped his cock, enamoured with the way his hips just slightly jerked when he twisted his hand for the first pump, pressing down with the palm of his hand onto his head. let me see, she wanted to beg. let me see you fuck your hand.

instead, she offered, “i can take them off.” to emphasise, she let her knees drop further, the fabric of the panties bunching and slipping into her slit just slightly, and she saw the way his eyes narrowed at the movement. “let me show you, please—”

he cut off her whine with a harsh laugh, eyes squinting. “oh, such a slut, aren’t you?” 

she keened at the sound of his laugh, breathing shakily when he indifferently stood up, fly and button still open, now in between her open thighs which might’ve been trembling just from him being as close as he was. 

and then, from the discarded bag to the left of her which she’d thrown off in her haste to show him just how much she wanted him, he grabbed a switchblade, flipping it open and hovering it in front of her face. 

she didn’t flinch. how could she when she knew that, in this moment, if he asked her to slit her throat, she would? 

“cut these slutty things off. let me see,” he mocked in the same tone of voice she had begged him in, “that pretty pussy you’ve been hiding, okay?”

with a condescending tilt of his head, he sat down once again in the chair and then flipped the knife in his hand, holding it by the blade and showing her the handle.

she took it, sitting up slightly straighter, and practically throwing herself to cut her underwear off at the sides, the only sound in the room being that of ripping fabric and short breaths.

“shigaraki,” she started, pleading with her eyes, “please, i feel like i’ll explode.” her complaint fell on deaf ears, instead he watched her with a smirk as the fabric finally dropped onto the table. with the help of her hand, empty now that she’d thrown the knife hastily in her desperation, she removed the fabric from her body and went to throw them, but was stopped by him reaching out a hand. 

“give it to me,” he ordered, and grabbed it right where she’d been dripping, she realised with an embarrassed flush. “does this really turn you on this much?” he teased.

and all she could do was try not to moan aloud as he brought the ripped panties up to his mouth and, whilst staring her down, licked up her wet patch and groaned into the fabric. 

“does just me looking at you make you into such a desperate little mess?”

“yes,” she whispered, slipping down the table to present herself like a gift to him. “yo—you don’t have to do much, just use me and i’ll be good,” she begged. 

“show me your tits and i’ll consider it,” he demanded, and he held in his laugh when she scrambled to unbutton her top and expose her pretty bra to him. “look at that,” he grinned, running his tongue over his teeth.

she pushed her chest out at that. “please,” she cried, close to tears at how wound up he was getting her—probably without meaning to. she could feel her own heartbeat pulse in her cunt and her nipples tighten. “i just need your…” she groaned, voice whiny and breathy. “anything, please,” she sobbed.

“pinch your nipples,” he commanded, breaking her out of her little cry-fest. 

“w—what?” her eyes widened, and she stared at him as he lowered both his pants and his boxers and let his cock spring up, catching it with his palm and spreading his pre-cum down his throbbing dick. 

“fuck,” he groaned, veins showing in his neck as he rubbed a circle on his tip before pumping his cock again. “pinch your tits for me, okay?”

“okay,” she stumbled, pulling down the cups of her bra to frantically pinch at her nipples, sitting up straight. in her mind, she could almost imagine it was his dangerous hands pinching and pulling them, and in her fantasy his mouth was wrapped around them. 

with each pinch, she unknowingly rocked her hips against nothing, dripping arousal onto the hardwood table under her now that her cunt was pressed directly at it. 

“thank you,” she mumbled between needy moans. 

enamoured, he watched the rock of her hips, not even telling her off when her eyes fluttered shut with each shot of pleasure going to her swollen pussy.

he could imagine himself, stretching her out and pressing deeper until she choked on the feeling, and if he was lucky, she’d whimper a ‘wait, too big!’ but they’d both know she never wanted him to stop. and, somewhere in this fantasy of his, he was the one begging for respite, maybe with his hands tied and his cock used by her. 

instead, in time with her lurching hips, he fucked up into his hand, tightening it when his eyes zeroed in on her leaking hole. 

he was watching it so intently that he didn’t see her fingers moving to touch her cunt until two of them circled her clit, breaking him out of his trance. 

“ha,” he mocked, though it sounded much less threatening with the way he panted for breath. “you really are depraved, aren’t you?” 

she’d fallen back onto the table at this point, and to meet her eye, he stood, still fisting his own cock, until he could feel the heat her body gave off. 

“hey,” he drawled. “make yourself cum and i’ll reward you.”

“god,” she groaned, voice almost animalistic, as her back arched. “but i need your—anything,” she begged. 

“what, you want my fingers? what if i decay you?” he teased, leaning closer to her face, body hunched over hers. “would it be worth it, huh? to die?”

her heart was beating faster than she could keep track of it, with both the threat and his closeness. “don’t care,” she mumbled out. 

“you’re shaking from your fear,” he noted, barely getting the words out before his head dropped with a low, desperate moan as he pushed his cock against her thigh. “do you like fear? will it make you cum?”

“yes,” she gasped, pressing hungrily on that sensitive bundle of nerves, fingers slipping through her slick as she tried to make as small circles as possible. “shig—oh,” she moaned out, smiling through the pleasure at the sudden rutting against her thigh as tomura shigaraki fucked his cock against her, just as depraved as she. 

“fuck,” he spat softly under his breath, and she knew if she had the willpower, she could make him whimper, maybe press his lips into her cunt and make him taste her. “put them in,” he sighed.

she did as he asked, sliding in two fingers in her distressed state, fucking them into her and curling them, rocking her hips in time with shigaraki’s. “f—feels so good,” she forced out, breath coming in short pants. 

“slut,” he laughed again. “you just—just have to tell me how slutty you feel, huh?” 

“y—you’re the one who’s humping my thigh,” she retorted.

she wasn’t prepared when he suddenly shot his hand out and forced two fingers down her throat. as she choked on them, a surprised moan vibrated around them. 

“shut the fuck up,” he warned, but the drool pushing out between his fingers made him reach down with his hand to remove her hand that was fucking herself, pulling it out to bump his mushroom tip against her swollen, glistening clit. with each rock of his hips, her folds peeled apart to allow his veiny cock between them—so dirty to hump like depraved teenagers in an abandoned building on an old desk.

and then he was using her cunt to jerk off, hunching over her more to practically lay on top of her, rubbing against her clit in short, desperate thrusts. 

“shit,” he moaned, pre-cum oozing from his tip to meet her arousal. “so good for me, yeah?”

“‘ank you,” she gurgled out, eyes rolled deep into her head. 

his head lowered to her still uncovered tits, and just like in her fantasy, his mouth—with his dry lips and his salivating mouth—wrapped around her nipple, moaning desperately around the skin as he got closer and closer to his orgasm against her pussy. 

he ignored her responding sob, ignored her knee hooking over his hips to press them impossibly closer together, ignored her hips jerking up to unwittingly try to get the tip of him into her pulsing hole—because he was so, so fucking close, balls drawing up as his stomach clenched.

and with a final thrust of his hips and with his fingers pressing down on her tongue, he spurted against her clit, his mewl buzzing against her tits as he buried his head in between them. 

and she might’ve been just as close as he was, but even if she didn’t reach her peak, she could’ve died happily when he came against her.

the cum pulsing out of his tip that thumped against her clit leaked down into her waiting hole, but he couldn’t pull away even if he wanted to, both of her legs tightly wrapped against him and she pushed her hips into his in desperation as her orgasm fully faded away.

struggling, nearly squeaky breaths against her tits as he came down, still pushing his hips lazily into hers as he drained himself of cum. his fingers still deep in her throat with her eyes fluttering shut as he, probably without meaning to, pressed hard against her tongue, covering his fingers in her spit.

she basked in the moment, keeping her eyes closed even when he pulled his head away from her tits and, with a lot of fluid involved, pulled his dick away from her pussy and his fingers from her mouth. 

tightly wound, sure she could cum if he just blew on her, she threw an arm over her eyes to collect herself. 

she didn’t know how enticing, how gorgeous she looked, legs falling from his waist to reveal her pussy covered in his seed, legs spread wide to give shigaraki an amazing view of her clenching hole and her heaving chest, nipples erect and winking with his spit still adorning them. 

he just couldn’t stop himself.

suddenly, he was on his knees in front of her, mouth open as he pushed his face into her cunt, some part of him wanting to become one with her.

she squealed, eyes shooting up and her upper body lurching up to behold tomura shigaraki, eyes closed and mouth open, licking and sucking at her cunt. he was eating her and him from her twinkling folds.

“taste so good,” he mumbled, moaning into her when she grabbed at his head and his hair, pressing him into her. in hindsight, maybe she was hurting him, but with the way he opened his jaw wider to devour her, she guessed he enjoyed it.

he was sloppy, and maybe not so talented with eating her out, but he sucked on her clit and he thrusted his tongue into her and he buried his nose into her and she was close again, throwing her legs over his shoulders. 

“look at me,” she breathed, yanking his hair back until just his tongue was dancing on her clit and he opened his eyes. hands clenched on the table to push himself as close as he could to her. 

his eyes, so wide and needy, and his shoulders shifting with each desperate breath of her scent was most definitely what threw her over the edge.

or maybe it was the moan he let out when she groaned, “good boy, shig.”

her back arched into the air, digging her legs into his shoulders to somehow press herself closer to him. 

pulsing, throbbing, around nothing. 

suddenly, she was falling, detached from shigaraki’s mouth and finding herself on the ground. “what?” she mumbled, still in the haze of her orgasm. 

“sorry,” came from above her, and it was then she realised. he’d put all his fingers on the desk beneath her, dusting it. 

all she did was laugh, pressing herself up from the ground to stand in front of him. “i’m just glad i have that effect on you.”

“shut up,” he rasped back, but she caught the dusting of pink on his cheeks as he zipped his pants back up. 

“c’mere,” she muttered. still half-dressed and with a sprinkling of dust on her back she pressed forward to press a gentle kiss on his chapped lips. head tilted, eyes closed. 

in a spur of the moment decision, he mirrored her. an ounce of vulnerability in this otherwise filthy encounter shown in the way his mouth clumsily followed her silent instructions, moulding to hers. 

when she pulled away, breath noticeably coming in shorter puffs, her hands roamed up to his face, fingers dancing over his jawline and his under eyes, smiling at the way he pushed into her. poor boy’s touch-starved, she thought. 

eyes still closed, he was searching for her mouth again and she pressed her lips to his again, mewling when two of his fingers tentatively traced her face in a mimic of her. 

but his eyes shot open when one hand moved from his face to his ass of all places. “delicious,” she grinned. 

“shut up.”

[dadsbongos]

in the bed... straight up jorkin it...

part 1 478 words / warnings - somnophilia (pre-discussed n consented to), oral (m receiving), sweet but gross tomu

summary - you and your new boyfie tomura decide to try out somnophilia action

~~~

You look like an angel while you’re asleep, he’s always thought so.

And Tomura’s a demented kid with too much porn printed in the back of his brain, so he’s also always wanted to mess up that angel face.

Which leads to Tomura’s thighs bracketing your head, hands carding lovingly through your hair. A lofty sigh escapes his nose, your soft lips enveloping the smooth skin of his cock. Warm and velvety and wet, your lax cheeks don’t provide much friction, but Tomura’s more than content just to grind his shaft against the flat of your tongue. His fingers dance tenderly at your hairline, combing along the frame until he can twiddle the ends.

He’s certain to not prod the back of your throat, instead shallowly thrusting into your hot cheek. Watching his cock protrude and gnawing his bottom lip, cautious to not release his moans and wake you. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad, though -- if you woke, then it could be more fun. Maybe you’d sit up and wrangle him by the throat for a bruising kiss before spreading your legs.

Tomura whines at the thought, repositioning and bucking towards your throat. Your chest bobs, one leg twitching in protest. Even your brows scrunch, slackened jaw jerking up. He braids the ends of your hair together, calmly pressing further into your maw. Right hand strays to your breasts, flimsy top loose enough for him to yank down, tits spilling out. He lulls one of your nipples between his fingers.

Your other leg twitches.

Your tongue curls up, melting against his swollen cock. Tomura hunches over you, one hand continuing to toy with your breast while the other cups your skull. He readjusts again, pressing your face against his thigh and fucking into the meat of your stretched cheek. Drowsily, you huff, hot air catching the saliva dribbling off his shaft.

Pulling out, Tomura jerks his cock over your splayed mouth -- teasing the idea of shooting cum into your mouth, in your hair, all across your sweat-slicked face. Letting it stain and dry, crumbing into the crevices and marking you forever as his.

Ultimately, he aims for your exposed chest, and paints the plane of your breasts, muffling a groan via a hand cupped over his mouth.

Again, you huff, back arching up as if to turn onto your side before Tomura stops you with a hold on your shoulder. He kisses your cheek sweetly, raking his fingers through the knotted ends of your hair and wiping off his soaked cock against your chest. Then he crawls off the mattress to fetch a cloth, damping it under the bathroom sink across the hall and creeping back into his room.

Cleaning his spend and your drool from your skin, Tomura folds the cloth so as to hide the debauched mixture and tosses it into his hamper.

[tteokdoroki]

i fink tomura is the most desperate kind of fuck <3 i think he humps your cunt ‘til his dick is flushed red & sore <3 he makes the little hero cum herself dumb on his mouth ‘n then dumps a load on your asscheek <3

૮ ͈>◡< ͈ა warnings — smut, mdni 18+, overstimulation, cumplay, oral sex, multiple orgasms, fem!reader.

:(( ooweee shiggy is so nasty — he’ll keep cumming on you even after you’re all done and spent. slapping his lengthy cock against your swollen folds, groaning n whining at how you twitch under his tip while he spreads that thick whiteness all over your raw and ravaged pussy.

tomura teases himself too, gently plunging into your slick heat, just the tip though, and shallowly fucking you until his hips hurt from rutting into your puffy mound as it clamps down on him :( he’s made a mess of the pretty hero but he won’t admit how much you absolutely wreck him. make him a shaky mess of limbs on top of you, too weak to even fold your legs into your shoulders as he pushes his wet, sloppy cock deeper and deeper.

poor baby, even the slightest squelch from your cunt has his dick leaky all over again, spewing more of his thick hot seed against your insides— tomura fucking it deeper into you as it froths around the base of his cock and leaks down his heavy balls. but then he’s gotta taste you, shakily making his way between your thighs to suckle on that cute little clit, lick your pussy till she’s squirting about the place and forcing his cum to ooze out of your quivering hole </3

tomura’s so greedy :( licking it up before the mix can slide between your ass cheeks— humping the sheets to your sweet moans, he doesn’t care if it hurts to orgasm again, he just wants to soil the little hero and claim you with a load all over your pretty body.