#shigaraki tomura smut

[inkykeiji]

character: shigaraki tomura x fem!reader warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, dry humping, rough messy kisses, tomura is a meanie words: 1.3k

just been daydreaming about kissing tomura’s scars and leave the prettiest, sparkliest smears of pink lip gloss along his neck and collarbone ♡ and how much he supposedly ‘hates’ it ♡

“i told you to stop doing this,” his voice vibrates against your lips, head tilting further back, allowing you more room to work. “you’re making a fucking mess.” 

“m’sorry,” you murmur into the curve of his shoulder, not seeming apologetic in the slightest, planting another kiss, hard and puckered and full of purpose, to the protruding bones. “can’t help it.”  

“b-bitch,” he keens out, curse fading to a gasp on his tongue.

giggling, you string another garland of pecks along the curve of his neck to the hinge of his jaw, then across the defined edge, leaving smears of pretty pink lip gloss.

it’s real cute, you think, the way he acts as if he doesn’t love it, grumbles about how sticky it is, how it clumps his hair together and dries all hard and shimmery, but secretly he loves finding remnants of glitter—of you—all over him; his fingertips, his collarbone, his lips, his hair, his eyelashes; tiny sparkling reminders that you were there, that you’ve staked your claim, leaving a galaxy of constellations across his body that bear your name. 

he acts as if it’s such a nuisance, as if he doesn’t adore the way your lips paint his fresh gouges, new gashes, in the prettiest shimmers of you; your gloss, your drool, your scent—notes that linger far after you’re gone, notes that seep into his skin, that produce phantom tingles of longing when he’s laying alone in the middle of the night, warm and wiggling beneath his flesh.

he acts as if he doesn’t find it breathtakingly beautiful, the way his self-inflicted scars glimmer, the worst part of himself made pretty by you.

he acts as if if it doesn’t make his cock twitch in his jeans—even though you know it does, even though he knows you know it does, indicated by your girlish giggles as you bounce a little in his lap and lick another fat strip of saliva up the column of his neck, tongue tracing over that prominent adam’s apple that trembles with a growl or throbs with a thick swallow, to punctuate the lick with a sticky, gloss saturated kiss, right beneath his chin. 

he acts like this for as long as he can stand it, for as long as his soul will allow it, until he physically can’t take it anymore, the clawing at his chest and in his veins too much to bear, large hands curling around your hips and squeezing, hard, holding you in place as he ruts up into your clothed core, movements sloppy and uneven.

there’s no finesse to it, no set rhythm or pace, hips bucking wildly as he compels you to stay put, damn it, the demand spit out in a ragged whine. 

his mouth clashes against your own in a crude imitation of a kiss, sucking your lips into his mouth with enough force to yank a yelp from your chest. 

sharp teeth scrape your upper lip and the underside of your nose, leaving raised, raw little abrasions in their wake as they gnaw on your mouth, bottom row grating over your chin and dragging up, harvesting fat globs of the sticky substance behind their sawtoothed edges.

muffled moans soak into your flesh, pitchy and splintered to bits by heavy pants as he restlessly scours your mouth, scrubs it near clean, teeth depositing clots of gloss onto his tongue. 

it hurts, the constant rubbing of his teeth leaving your skin chafed and bloodied, but he doesn’t fucking care, greedily swallowing down your resounding squeals and cries, starved for any bit of you he can devour. 

it hurts, but you don’t discourage it, instead twining your arms around his neck, fingers pushing into the fluffy tufts curling up at the base of his skull.

“uh, fuck,” he whines, voice grit and gravel, mouth mashed against your own.  

his tongue unfurls to lap at your lips, now glazed with a watery crimson, desperate to slurp every last ounce of gloss from your swollen mouth. it flattens against your face, slick muscle laving in hard, repetitive motions back and forth, back and forth, gathering the remnants of make-up and coating his tongue and his teeth in the tacky glitter, tainted with the taste of copper. 

those little whimpers and mewls have morphed into grunts and groans, shoved from his throat into yours as his tongue finally enters your mouth, now satisfied with having sucked the first layer of skin from your lips. 

it’s all so fucking messy, drool weeping from the corners of your conjoined mouths and leaving sticky streaks across your jaws and chins, edges of your teeth clacking together as your tongues tangle and brush and massage one another, slick and slippery as they push and curl.

his pleasure is hot and heavy on your tongue, little jolts surging through your skin with each sound huffed out in time with the irregular rocking of his hips. 

his cock is so hard, straining painfully against his jeans, throbbing as if it’s desperate to burrow through the thick denim to your cunt, but tomura won’t let it get that far—tomura can’t. 

because tomura needs to cum now, tomura doesn’t have the time to wait, tomura doesn’t have a goddamn second to waste, fucking into you through layers of fabric, thankful you’re in a skirt, thankful your panties are so fucking slutty, made of lace so thin, so delicate it’s barely a barrier at all.

if he concentrates hard enough, he swears he can feel your hole, empty and yearning, clenching with every stroke of his cock over your clit. 

it’s almost enough to make him cum right there. 

bony fingers flex on your waist, unsure if they want to stop your movements or speed them up, blunt nails gouging dark, deep crescents into your skin. 

you make the decision for him, pace quickening as you grind down on his cock—come on, tomu, come on, tomu—and he mewls again, something high and pitchy and dense in your mouth, hips jerking up in response.

his forehead knocks against your own, hard enough to make you wince, pain searing through your temples. your noses nudge together, clumsy and inept with the haphazard rolling of his hips, steadily accelerating with each rut against you, desperate to match the pace you’ve set, to exceed the pace you’ve set. the fingers tangled at the back of his skull push further into his hair, fingertips pressing into his scalp in lopsided little circles, evoking another low moan as he shoves his head harder against yours, desperate to give you more room to work. 

he’s getting close now, hands tightening as they force you to move even faster, thighs tensing as the pressure in his tummy builds higher and higher, heavier and heavier with each of your motions, hips stuttering as they fall out of tempo again, overwhelmed by the pleasure.

“fuck, f-fuck,” the curse fractures in his throat, eyes shut so tight they crinkle at the corners, breath exhaled in harsh tatters out his nose. “i—i’m gonna—”

“do it,” you nearly beg in a stringy whine. “ruin your jeans for me.”

“oh, christ,” he chokes on a sob, another three gyrations of your hips and then he’s obeying, cock pulsing almost violently and filling his pants with hot, thick cum—so much, too much, way too much that it starts oozing through the denim in viscous, ropy dollops to smear across your inner thighs, the coating pretty and pearly glazing over your skin.

leaning back, you look down, spreading your thighs a little further to examine the damage, tensing and tilting the muscles to fawn at the way his cum shimmers in the dim light.

“now who’s the one making a mess?” you tease with a giggle, gazing at him through your lashes, and he rolls his eyes. 

“this is nothing,” he’s growling as he hoists you up, one big hand clamped around your elbow, already beginning to drag you along behind him. “i’m gonna show you what a real mess looks like.” 

[kingtomura]

Cat and mouse

synopsis: Your ex boyfriend has some nerve texting you at three in the morning — an entire week after the disaster breakup you had. You should really go over there and give him a piece of your mind. Well, you know what they say about famous last words.  wc: 6.1k | crossposted to ao3 content: tomura shigaraki x female reader, no quirks au, toxic tomura, reader is kinda toxic too tbh, unhealthy relationships, breaking up and making up, vaginal fingering, overstim, breeding kink, piv, dubcon creampie, degredation, threats of baby trapping, hurt/comfort, sweet at the end idc

You’ve told your friends time and time again to stay out of your business. They never listen. 

“Oh my god, Kirishima? Is he even twenty yet?” You drag as you watch your friend flip through several pictures of the redheaded boy like he was a member of the bachelor. 

She smiles, scrolling her phone for more options, “no, but he will be in a couple of months!”

“No!” Your words are sharp. You love Mina but god, you don’t want her to play matchmaker with you. It’s not like you’re a charity case or something. 

She gasps and you swear you could see the lightbulb go off above her head. “What about Denki? He’s fun!” 

You groan, falling back onto the bed and covering your eyes with your arm. “Mina.” 

“Hey, just give her a break okay? It’s only been about a week.” Your saving grace Yaoyorozu speaks up and it’s nice to finally have someone on your side. 

“Thank you.”

“Seriously? So we’re just going to sit around and watch you mope about all day?” Mina questions, irritation clear in her voice and it grates your ears.  

“Preferably, yes! Just let me be.” You roll over, face officially shoved into your pillow. It’s been a rough couple of days and you haven’t gotten a single call or text from Tomura. Not that you should be expecting one. You broke up with him after all. 

It’s just.. this time feels different. Usually there’s more arguing and he’s fighting for you to stay around, but this time there was nothing. No quips, no insults, just “fine, get out then.”

That hurt the most. 

You had no idea what he was up to. 

Maybe he was as depressed as you were. 

Maybe he’s found someone else. 

The thought makes you stop in your tracks. The idea of Tomura, your tomura with someone else is enough to make you nauseous. 

You jump to your feet and rush to the bathroom, locking yourself in and falling to your knees. 

God, what if that was why it was so easy?

You pull out your phone, the device lighting up and unlocking with your facial id. 

Tomura doesn’t use social media much but you could still check to see if he’d blocked you. 

To your surprise, he hadn’t. 

He hasn't posted anything either and there’s no new person in his followers. 

You feel yourself exhale a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. No change is a good thing. 

There’s knocking on the door and you thank the stars you locked it. Your friends would judge you so hard if they saw you lurking through your ex’s social media. 

“Hey, are you okay in there?” It’s your saving grace Yaoyorozu again and you almost feel bad for shutting her out. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry if it feels like I pressured you! I’ll give you some space.” Mina's regretful voice calls and it makes your heart clench. You know she means well but she just doesn’t understand. None of them do. 

Whether you want to admit it or not, you love Tomura. 

Yes, you argue and yes, you fight, but he just gets you. He’s so cynical, but so caring — in his own special way. Too bad he was such an asshole. The argument wasn’t even supposed to go that far. 

There are tears beginning to blur your vision and you wipe them away, willing the feelings down and standing to your feet. 

If he wanted you to stay away, then fine. You could do that. 

You splash cool water onto your face and take a breath, steeling yourself and getting ready to face your friend once more. It was Saturday and they were convinced you needed a fun girl’s night.

It takes a lot to refrain from cringing at the phrase, but you believe they held some truth with the idea. You definitely didn’t want to be alone right now.

You unlock the bathroom door, meeting Mina and Yaoyorozu’s worried expressions with a smile. 

“We should probably get ready now, huh?”

Mina’s eyes light up, smile blinding and excitement contagious.

“Yes! Jirou and the others are here now.” She starts to clap, excitement buzzing around her, “Girl’s night is going to be amazing!” 

—-

Girl’s night was a bust.

The moment everyone arrived the apartment quickly filled with chaos. Noisy and busy, it was all giving you a headache. Until someone decided it would be a good idea to pregame before going out.

In preparation for the night your friend’s insisted that you get dolled up, hair makeup and skimpy clothes you wouldn’t look twice at on any normal day. 

You had to admit it made you a little more excited to get out and at least feel like your world isn't crashing around you. It was supposed to be a fun little night out. Somehow one drink turned into two, which turned into three which turned into Mina swearing she could beat everyone in a dance battle. 

The group only got more riled up as everyone indulged in this silly challenge. 

One challenge leads to another, which leads to more drinking, which then ends in everyone being too drunk to function and knocking out — all laid out in odd places around your living room floor and couch. 

The groggy feeling came first, your arms radiating in dull pain as you vaguely recalled trying to beat Mina in a contest of who could do the most push ups. It sure as hell wasn't you, but the drunk version of you thought it was possible to move mountains. 

You blink a few times, trying to will your eyes to rapidly adjust to the darkness of the room and find out what this odd buzzing noise beside you had been. Turning over, you find your phone, squinting as the too bright screen lights up your face and you see that it is three a.m.

You had fallen asleep with everyone else.

The phone buzzes again, lighting up and you have to squint further to read the contact name.

Tomura. 

Your eyes widen as you scan over the three texts he’s sent you. 

Wasting no time, you rush to your feet and into the bathroom so you can look at your phone without the chance of prying eyes overlooking your shoulder. Even though they were probably going to be out until late morning.

Tomura’s messages were short, no paragraphs, no essays but three different messages sent in succession. 

When are you coming to get your shit?

I’m tired of waiting.

And I’m deleting our farm btw. 

The first two messages don’t get much of a reaction from you, especially since it’s three a.m and he knows you’re usually asleep around this time. 

But the third message…

Your Stardew Valley farm that you’ve had and worked on together for almost two years being put on the line and threatened? What the fuck was his problem?

This farm was a constant in your relationship. Throughout the ups and downs and back and forths. You were sure that hell would freeze over before you both would give up that progress. But here he is, threatening you while you would have been asleep. What an asshole.

Your feet are moving before your brain can stop them and you make your way to the front door. Since your friends were all passed out it would be easy to sneak over to Shigaraki’s place, give him a piece of your mind and then sneak back. In and out, quick and easy. 

Your decision is made and you grab your coat, deciding to just go over there as you are. You hadn’t changed out of your outfit that was supposed to be for the night out, but it didn’t matter. You only needed to get over there and get there fast.

Once you arrive at Tomura’s doorstep you waste no time knocking. It’s around three in the morning so he should still very much be awake. 

There's a chill in the air as you wait for his answer and you wrap your jacket closer to your body. A rumble of thunder caught your attention and it's then you notice the rain clouds rolling in. You knew it would only be a matter of time before the bottom of the sky falls out and rain drenches everything. You were on borrowed time if you wanted to make it back before then.

After what feels like forever the door finally opens, revealing a very cozy pajama-clad Tomura, who seemed a little too pleased for his own good — if that sly smile he was doing a bad job at hiding was anything to go by. 

You don't give him a chance to greet you or say anything for that matter, stopping his words in their tracks as you cut him off. “What do you want?”

He doesn’t bother hiding his smirk now, the expression making your fists clench and your anger boil. “What do I want? You’re at my door, in front of my apartment.” He scoffs, clearly getting the exact reaction he had wanted from you, “I should be asking what do you want?” 

Caught like a deer in headlights. Whatever, you don't let that stop you as you pull out your phone to show him his text. “You sent this, I know you’re bluffing. What do you want?”

Tomura shrugs, leaning against his door frame and giving you a pleased look. Expression relaxed and content. Not a care in the world. “To talk.”

“Well, I'm here now, so let’s talk.” You spit, crossing your arms and waiting for whatever else he would throw at you. 

“Sure, but you should come in first.” He starts, looking up towards the darkened sky, confirming his assessment. “It’s gonna rain soon, you know.”

Of course you knew that. 

You just didn’t want to give him more time than you had. But you agree and go in, ignoring the fighting feeling in the back of your mind screaming at you to turn away and hightail it out of there. 

Tomura’s home is the exact way it was the day you left, give or take a few more containers of takeout littered around the place. You have half a mind to scold him about it, but quickly remember that it isn’t your place to do that anymore. 

So instead you stay quiet, following him into the apartment and into the living room. Opting to stand as he sat, and resisted the urge to get comfortable. 

“So, what do you want to talk about?” You try, done watching him pick up a controller and boot up a video game. Seriously? 

Your patience was wearing thin now as you watched him ignore you to play some stupid game. You try calling to him again, knowing this was probably a waste of your time and groans.

“I was in the middle of something before you got here. Let me finish and we’ll talk.” It's flippant the way he waves you off and continues the game. The lack of care only hurting your feelings further and making you realize this may have all been a big mistake on your part.

You shouldn’t be at your ex boyfriend’s house being ignored. You should be at your house getting drunk and hanging out with your best friends. There was no reason to stay somewhere you’re obviously not valued.

It’s a simple choice when you put it into perspective. 

But things are always easier said than done. 

You sigh, the air puffing out your cheeks, a bad habit you had when angry, and walk right in front of Tomura’s TV. There was more satisfaction in making him lose the game and then announcing your departure than just leaving quietly. 

He cranes his neck to see around you, but it doesn’t work, finally giving up as his character inevitably dies. “What!?”

“I’m leaving!” You announced, turning on your heel and heading towards the front door.

“You had to make me lose first? I said I was almost done!” He spat back, rising from the couch to follow you.

You shrug, “I don’t care. Why invite me in if you’re just going to ignore me?”

“Didn’t think you had the patience of a child.'' Tomura stands in front of you, cutting through your path and stopping you in your tracks.

It's almost comical the way he insults you. “Okay pot, meet kettle.” You try to brush past him, but he side steps with you. 

“What are you dressed like that for anyway? Did you go out tonight or something?”

“No!” You deny, a little louder than intended and then pause. “But it’s none of your business what I do anyway.”

Tomura hums at this, taking the words in and running them through his mind as he gives you a once over, eyes scanning from the too-tight shirt you wore — showing a generous amount of cleavage, down to your mini skirt that left little to the imagination. 

“Could've fooled me.”

“What do you mean by that?” You hate when he gives you cryptic answers, like it’s impossible to pry into his mind to see what he was thinking at the moment. 

“You knew you were coming to see me so I dont get why you're wearing that skimpy shit. Unless you wanted me to check you out.”

“Not everything is about you, Tomura. Maybe I just wanted to dress up and look nice.”

“Bullshit—”

“God, Tomura you always fucking do this!” You yell, walking right up into his face. The excitement in his scarlet eyes sends a chill up your spin, but you can’t back down. 

He gets closer, matching your tone and you can still see the grin he’s trying to hide. It makes you see red. “Do what? Tell you the truth? You know I’m not wrong.”

“Yeah, you think you know everything, but you don’t. I’m dressed up because I want to be, not because of you.” You’re insisting at this point, frustration threatening to tip over and spill out into the form of another pointless argument. Why did you think you could actually come over and have a decent conversation with him?

Tomura is a master at getting under your skin and hitting where it hurts. In all of your arguments he’s never really pulled out the big shots but you wouldn’t put it past him to do so now. 

“Oh, so you come over to my place dressed like a slut and you expect me to believe you don’t have some hidden motive?”

And there it is.

Your last straw. He could be so egotistical and mean — you’ve had it. 

You regret it the moment you do it, but your body moves before your brain can process your actions. You push Tomura. Hard. 

He doesn’t fall back far but you know it’s enough to piss him off. And he’s never been one to hold anything back, so he shoves you back and your back hits the wall. 

Tomura has you pinned before you know it and there’s a thrill that runs through your body in a way you know you shouldn’t be feeling. Your knees feel weak for reasons that are not related to fear and your panties were gradually becoming more wet. 

His voice is low and his eyes are narrowed as he pins you against the wall, pressing your cheeks together with his other hand. “You’re really starting to piss me off.”

You have to bite back a smile, knowing this has taken a turn and you aren’t strong enough to stop where it’s going. Not that you would want to. 

“Oh yeah? If I piss you off so badly then why are you hard?”

He doesn’t look down. He can feel his own arousal just as well as you can while it’s pressed against your abdomen. 

Tomura pushes off of you — maintaining some distance as he turns away. 

“You’re fucking annoying.”

“Sure am.” You supply, chipper and certain as you trail behind him. 

He’s walking further into the apartment, and you follow. Legs moving on their own accord as you go further into the lion's den, exchanging quips and insults. You jab your finger into his shoulder, bothered by the way he continues to ignore you, it's a pathetic attempt at catching his attention and it works. Kind of. 

The only response being him slapping your hand away with a glare and muttering a soft fuck off as he walked on. 

You both went back and forth. Like the sun and moon, you just can’t stay away from each other.  

It was how these things usually went between you and Tomura. He would start up, make a petty argument and you would never back down. Tomura is someone who was used to getting his way and others simply did what he said with no objections. 

But that was not how you were.

And he loved it.

You knew by the way he would get that devious glimmer in his eye when you would challenge a point, starting up a debate. Sometimes they were heated enough to make you both break up. It never lasted more than a few days. A week being the longest.

Push and pull. 

Tomura made his way past you again, ignoring your calls about how you hate being ignored. At this point you’re sure he’s doing it on purpose to rile you up more but you can’t help but take the bait. You grab his shoulder, forcing him to turn around and face you as you point a finger in his face. 

“Stop walking away from me!” 

He grabs your wrist and pulls you closer, making you stumble on your feet and almost lose balance. You were so close you could feel the heat from his body and smell the fresh linen scent of his shirt. “Don’t tell me what to do.” 

You snatch your wrist away from him, tension between you two growing hotter by the second as the space between you got thinner. 

“What are you going to do about it?” 

The narrowing of his eyes only made your grin grow wider as you watched the gears turn in his head as he thought about just how many things he would do about it. All of it enticed you, so you beat him to the punch. 

You reach forward again, fully intending to shove his shoulder again for another reaction, another glare, maybe even more words, but he stops you. It was fast, the way you both tumbled through the hallway as Tomura crashed his lips to yours. The relief of finally feeling his lips again meshed with the excitement of how rough he was with you. 

You lose yourself in the kiss, welcoming him in with open arms as you vaguely register the dark walls of his room and posters plastered along the walls in your scuffle.

It was exciting, probably the best part of breaking up and making up. At this point you think the whole point of falling apart is coming back together again. An endless cycle where the reward is worth the punishment. 

Cat and mouse. 

You end up on top of him, straddling his hips while your smug smile beams down at him. Tomura gives you an unamused look in return, yet the way his hands rested on your thighs gave away the ill hidden interest. It was all the encouragement you needed as you leaned down, hovering above him with both hands on his chest. 

“Not so tough now, are you?”

It’s bait. You know it’s bait, he knows it’s bait, but he takes it anyway — the way you knew he would. 

Tomura wastes no time flipping the both of you over, quickly reversing your positions as he settled himself between your legs. It’s dangerous the way his actions riled you up further, and you have to bite your lip to keep the smile from betraying your false anger. You couldn’t let him know how excited you were to be back in his bed. 

He presses your cheeks together and rocks your head left to right, tone mocking and eyes wild with fever, “Oh, look who’s become a firecracker all of the sudden. Where did that flame come from, huh?”

You want to respond, but Tomura beats you to it, releasing your cheeks and pointing a nimble finger against your forehead, “Don’t be dumb.”

His eyes trail from yours and then down to your lips, then finally down to your exposed cleavage. The movement was swift as he cupped one of your breasts in his hand and dipped down, claiming your lips again. It was softer than the first time but not by much, especially not when he matched his pace by grinding his clothed erection into you, making you moan at the contact. 

Your skirt was so short and it made you feel even more exposed than you already were. Tomura had easy access to you and the thin fabric of your panties made everything feel so much closer. 

You moan at the contact, swiping your tongue against Tomura’s bottom lip and wasting no time deepening the kiss as you pull him closer. You needed more and you needed it as soon as possible. 

Tomura pulled the low cut front of your shirt down, easily exposing your breasts from the confines of the shirt and massaged them, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles against your nipples and making you cry out from the sensitivity. 

He pulls away from you, eyes gazing into yours and you swore in that moment he put you in a trance. Tomura’s ruby red gaze always left you mesmerized and you can’t help the whimper that leaves your lips, brows furrowed and eyes wanting, “Please.”

“Please what?” And he’s not taunting you, he’s not mocking you. His eyes are soft as he brings a hand to your cheek. “Tell me what you want.”

“You.” Fuck, you’ve missed him. “I just want you.”

There’s a hint of a smile on his face as he strokes your cheek, soft look in his eyes making your heart flutter, and then it’s gone. Replaced by a hardened gaze as he moves to remove your shirt and bra, fully exposing you to his hungry eyes, and then moves to remove your short skirt. 

His hands hover there for a moment, debating whether or not he should keep it on and fuck you in it, but then decides against the idea and pulls it off, taking your soaked panties down with it as well. 

The air in the room feels cool against your skin as you shiver in anticipation. 

“Fuck,” Tomura whispers, now eye level with your cunt. You gasp as he runs two fingers between your wet folds and holds the digits up to show you. Syrupy clear slick clung to them, slowly trailing down as Tomura rose back up, eye level with you once more. 

“You’re so wet…” He murmured, bringing the digits to your mouth and you opened, taking them into your mouth and tasting yourself. You kept eye contact as you watched his eyes widen in delight — Tomura loved it when you put on a show for him.

There’s another moment of Tomura pressing against your tongue with his fingers and then he pulls them out, opting for a kiss in exchange, his tongue dipping into your mouth and groaning  as he could taste what’s left of your slick on you as well.

The pleasant feeling and linguid action of your movements made your shoulders relax as you practically melted into his soft bed, the feeling of his body above yours bringing you mountains of comfort. It was a distraction, of course. 

You felt the same two of Tomura’s fingers prod at your slick entrance before pressing in fully and all the way down to the knuckle. The stretch was intense but the pressure was euphoric, making you squeeze your eyes shut and grip him closer. 

He didn’t make you wait long as he pumped his fingers, quickly finding that sensitive spot so deep inside of you that only he could pinpoint and brushing against it over and over. 

The feeling was so good it made you pull away from the kiss to breathe, thighs twitching and toes curling in pleasure. You wouldn’t last long like this.

“Tomura, fuck..!” You moaned, drowning in ecstasy as he continued his abuse of your spot, never letting up or slowing down, aiming to make you cum as quickly as he could. It was obvious he wanted you to come undone as soon as possible by the way he watched your every expression. 

The way your brows furrowed to the way you bit your lip. Tomura eagerly drank every expression and gave it back to you in the form of pleasure. 

“What?” He started, unphased by your dilemma, “Gonna cum?”

It took a lot of focus and effort, but you nod — done with fighting for the night and accepting the fact that you will come apart quickly. So you give in to the pleasure. 

Tomura smiles, a devious grin splitting his features as he curls his fingers, hitting the spot one more time for good measure and you lose composure, your climax crashing into you like a tidal wave. There was nothing you could do besides ride the feeling while holding on to Tomura tight — like you would get swept away if you didn’t. 

He fucks you through it with his fingers, eyes never leaving your face as you come down from your high. 

“Pent up, huh?” He questions, and this time there is that little hint of teasing. It brings you back to reality. 

Yes, you have been pent up. You haven’t been able to get off to anything since you’ve broken up and it’s been hell. 

You have no time for the games, you just want him and you want him now. 

So, you take Tomura’s face in your hands, making him look you in the eyes. The flecks of black in his carmine eyes always makes you remember why you come back. Every single time. 

“Fuck me, please, Tomura.” It's soft and filled with desire that you cannot be bothered to hide, and Tomura has never been one to deny you.

He quickly discards his own clothes, making sure to not stay away from you for long. His cock is hard and leaking precum from the head as he strokes it in preparation. You feel giddy at the thought and watch as he slides the head of his cock between your folds, coating it with your slick, and rubbing against your clit. The action makes your hips twitch up towards him. 

He loves to tease and make you wait, but today he doesn’t make you wait long. Tomura leans down after lining himself up with your entrance and places his free hand behind your head, right above the nape of your neck. His hands were warm and the feeling of those hands cradling your head felt so comforting in the space of his familiar dark bedroom. 

You bring a hand to his hair, tangling your fingers in his ashen locks as he pushes forward. The stretch makes you whimper and Tomura captures your lips in a kiss again, swallowing the noises and releasing a groan of his own as your walls tighten around his cock. 

There's something about the way Tomura drags his hips, the way he starts off at a slow pace, winding you up as he steadily increases his speed and force. It happens so gradually that you don't realize you’re screaming his name until he tells you to shut up — threatening to cover your mouth because he didn't want his neighbors to hear how much of a slut you were.

It drove you mad the way he said it all with a smile and fucked you harder. Almost daring you to be louder so he can punish you with a hand over your mouth.

Tomura knew how rough you liked it and he always delivered, giving you back arching pleasure as he pounded into you. It leaves you gasping and struggling to keep your voice down. Your hands find the surface of his back, trying to hold on as much as you could with building pleasure on the horizon. 

“Tomu— Tomura..! Please,” you cry and he doesn’t miss a beat, driving his cock so deep against your sweet spot it makes you see stars. “Fuck..!” 

“Yeah, that’s it.” Tomura cooed, eyes filled with mischief as he brought you closer to the edge. “Cry for me.”

And you do, your body feeling euphoric as the feeling buzzed up your spine and filled your brain with the fuzz of ecstasy. 

“What are you gonna do, huh?” He starts, his hips grinding against you, the closeness of his pelvis rubs against your clit, making you cry out again, “What are you gonna do when I breed this pretty cunt and make sure you’re stuck with me forever?”

He’s bluffing, you know Tomura doesn’t want kids. He’s just trying to gauge your reaction. Your dedication. 

“Tomura…” You only moan, breath catching as he hits that spot inside you that he knows so well. 

Tomura is smiling, wild and devious, as you look up at him with glossy eyes, so close to crying from the feelings, “I’m gonna do it. I’ll make you mine forever and you can’t do anything about it.” 

“Ah!” You should stop him, tell him to calm down but he has your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your back arching off of the bed. Everything is blurring together and you can only slur words as the drool from your earlier kiss trails down your cheek. 

You are completely at his mercy like this and you know your friends would be beyond disappointed.  

It just feels so good the way his cock drags in and out of your body pulling moans and whines from your throat. He was relentless in the way he pounded into you — beyond the point of being soft and slow because he knows that’s exactly you like it. 

“Say you want it.” The command comes with the slowing of his hips and you whine, high and needy as Tomura slows to a near stop.

“Tomura, I—“

“Say you want it or I swear to god I’ll stop right now.” It’s a threat and you don’t want to find out if he’ll go through with it. Tomura never goes back on his word. 

“No, please, don’t— I want it!” you pant, frustrated and aching for more movement.

“I want you to,” you stammer, desperate to have your release. “I don’t care if you cum in me. I need you so bad.”

“That’s my girl,” He coos, dipping his head down onto your shoulder, “Fuck.. love you s’much”

You stop — you’ve never heard him say that. Ever. You doubted he would ever say it since it’s been so long. 

He doesn’t give you a chance to ruminate on it because he's picking up the pace again and giving you the friction you were so deeply in need of. The feelings are swimming in your head as your cries reach new heights. Tomura is too far gone to stop you or care and you’re thankful. You couldn’t stop yourself if you tried. 

The build of your orgasm crashes down and sends you with it, making your thighs quiver in pleasure and your eyes squeeze shut. Tomura’s mouth meets yours before you could cry out, the warmth of his tongue guiding you as he fucked you through it. 

He didn’t last long after, the way your walls tightened around him with the force of your orgasm has Tomura’s pace erratic as he chased his own high. 

The bed shook as Tomura finally finished, hips stuttered as he released inside of you, hot seed coating your insides and making heat rise to your cheeks. He really did it.

You watch as he slows to a stop above you, his eyes closed as he enjoys the feeling of release. Tomura’s breathing was heavy and you couldn’t stop yourself from bringing him down into another kiss, traveling from his lips to his cheeks and then back again. 

It was intimate and you were worried it may have been too much, given the reason you were both in this situation was because of a stupid breakup. 

Tomura’s pulls out of you, making you wince and taking the feeling of being so full away from you. He doesn’t go far, opting to stay on top of you and rest his head on your shoulder, wanting to keep you as close as possible. 

“You really piss me off.” He mumbles into your shoulder, out of breath and tired. “God, why can’t you just stay with me.”

“Tomura…” Your hands run through his hair, the sweat is making it stick to his forehead as you wait for him to keep talking. 

“Stop leaving me.” His voice is firm, unwavering.

“You told me to go.” 

“I didn’t think you fucking would. I would never actually want you to.”

“I can’t read between the lines Tomura, I’m not in your head.” You make him look at you this time, pulling his hair a little to get him to raise his head. “Did you mean it?”

“I just said I didn’t—“

“No, the other thing you said.” He gives you a look of pure confusion and you lose a little bit of hope, “when you said you loved me?” 

You stare into his carmine eyes, hoping, praying it wasn’t just pillow talk from the heat of the moment. 

He looks at you for a long time, frustration still wearing on his features. If you didn’t know any better you would say he was pouting. “Of course I meant it. I’ve always felt like that.”

“But you’ve never said it!”

“I show it!”

“How?” This is getting frustrating and going in circles. 

He groans, sitting up and taking his warmth with him. “I’m not going to sit here and list everything I’ve ever done for you. I don’t think it works like that.”

You open your mouth to counter, irritation on your tongue because that’s not what you meant, but Tomura stops you again. 

“I don’t know how to explain it, okay?” He shakes his head and sighs, laying next to you on the bed and looking up at his ceiling. “It’s weird. I have these strong feelings, but it’s not hate, it's not anger. It's the opposite of that.”

You stare at him as he focuses ahead, keeping his eyes trained on the uninteresting ceiling above.

“Father said it’s a weakness and I should feel that way but,” There’s a pause as he looks away from the ceiling, meeting your eyes finally, “if it’s so weak of me, then why are the feelings so strong?” 

Your heart aches. It's clear that he’s torn, and with the strange way he was raised you know that he can’t help the way he is. 

“Tomura…” 

“And it won’t go away. I can’t fight them down or push them away like I can with everything else. It eats me up and I… guess I lash out because of it.” He shakes his head and for the first time Tomura looks defeated. You’ve never seen him this way — he’s always been filled with confidence and self assured. “I just don’t know what to do.”

You bring a hand to his cheek as you press your forehead against his. It kills you that this is what’s been on his mind and you aren’t sure what you could do to fix it. Maybe there was nothing you could do, physically, but you would do your best to be there for him emotionally.

“Sometimes,” you try to be careful with your words, knowing how much Tomura looks up to his foster father even though the man has been nothing but strange to him. “People say things that aren’t true because they don’t know how to live with it.”

Tomura’s guardian cannot live with love nor the idea of it. 

“That doesn't mean you have to live that way.” 

And it’s the truth. 

Tomura doesn’t say anything, just watches you with heavy lidded eyes, ruby red nearly glowing in the low light of the room. He was so much more than what people thought they knew of him and you didn’t care if it took time for others to see that.

He leans in, closing his eyes and you meet him halfway into a kiss. 

It's warm and it's soft and you know that even when your phone is buzzing from dozens of missed calls and texts from your friends, it will be fine. 

You and Tomura would take things one day at a time.

[ectologia]

EXPRESS

TOMURA SHIGARAKI + FEMALE READER

WARNING: DUBCON/NONCON, PROFANITY, DRUNK READER, PUSSY WEDGIE, EXHIBITIONISM, PUBLIC TRAIN MASTURBATION, FOOT HUMPING, HUMILIATION

Your feet drag along the raised concrete, you can barely take a step without tipping head first into the nearest wall or inconveniently placed bin. It’s unfortunate nobody took it upon themselves to actually walk you home, you’re fucked out of your mind — who let you drink this much anyway?

The clusters of people gathered in the station only glare at your clumsy stumbling, shuffling and shifting away into themselves once they see your staggering form sway towards them.

Your requests to borrow somebody’s phone are denied or out-right ignored instantly, left clinging to the rim of the greasy bin for some kind of stability.

“Escuse m’.. Uhm.. ‘s this m’ train..”

Trimmed brows furrow at your mumbling, their eyes drifting around uncomfortably before you can finally muster up a proper sentence. “Uhm.. Yeah. That’s your train.” You nod along dumbly, following their finger as they point to the still train currently boarding.

You’re sure you’ve stepped over eight peoples toes already, but you don’t really care when all you’re focused on is not puking your guts out. A fist curls around one of the grab-handles for support, giggling and squealing like a child as the train bumps to a start. Your limp body is practically thrown onto the floor of the train, left to hug and lean on the vacant seats.

Your clouded eyes blink down at the pair of tattered, red sneakers crossed by your feet. A hoarse growl grabs your attention, tilting your chin up to squint your swivelling eyes at the hooded figure. His face is overcast with a dim shadow, what’s not concealed by his hoodie is curtained by thin, static tresses of alice blue.

The grim line that makes up his lips quirks upwards at your dopey expression and disheveled appearance. On instinct, you smile back, mistaking his fiendish smirk for something akin to friendliness you can’t help but shuffle closer on your bum, reaching your arms out to hug his leg.

Your fellow passengers grimace at the display, pivoting their heads to look out the window, clutching their belongings closer.

If you were any other dumb, drunk bitch, you’d be a pile of dust by now. But he’s had a long day, so he decides to indulge you’re intoxicated idiocy. He opens his knees, man-spreading across the fortunately empty seats either side of him, he doesn’t blame the rest of the pathetic lot on the train for not wanting to sit next to the creepy man dressed in all-black.

His foot shimmies itself in between your spread thighs, opting to have you sit on it for him. You cock your head once you feel the ridges of his shoe circle the chubby mound hidden in your panties.

“Hump it.” Shigaraki hunches, bending down to whisper into your ear.

You suck on your bottom lip, wiping your face into the denim of his jeans before propping your chin on-top of his knee, purring. Your stupid little brain clearly isn’t comprehending what he’s saying at the moment, so he helps you out. You let out a breathy giggle as the metal rings and harsh material of his sneakers grind beneath you, bumping into your hooded clit with every jerk.

You don’t understand what’s happening, but you can’t find it in yourself to stop when your hips begin to move on their own, wanting to bounce your horny cunny on some random man, in public no less.

A sizeable portion of the passengers shuffle out of the cart with disgusted frowns, while other on-lookers distract themselves with their phones or reading books, glancing at your perverted antics every so often.

Shigaraki smiles down at you, slipping his tongue out to wet his lips as he watches you hump his leg like a dog. He’s no longer moving his foot along with you, letting you fuck yourself on his dirty sneakers at your own pace. You’ve latched onto his leg now, cuddling into him while your tongue lolls out of your mouth, leaving a dark, wet patch of drool to seep onto his thigh while you’re sloppy, dribbling pussy leaves it’s own trail of fluid along his shoe.

Your ears perk at the sound of a shutter, looking up to see a shiny phone being shoved into your face. Your movements halt as you squint at the white light.

“Hey.” Shigaraki lifts his foot up, giving your puffy cunt a little kick. “Keep humping girlie.”

You’re bounced a few times before you’re able to get the ball rolling again. You continue to grind your clothed pussy down onto his shoe, shaking your ass as you desperately try to get to your orgasm.

He rasps a laugh at your fucked out expression, zooming in on your sloppy face before bending down to lift your dress up, getting a nice shot of you masturbating your horny pussy on his foot. Two fingers dip down to tug at the cotton of your panties, pulling the crotch nice and tight against your hard clit while your fat pussy lips spill out the sides. Your contorted slit is given a few harsh smacks before he sits back up.

He’s hard as a fucking rock but he doesn’t really feel like getting his massive cock out right now. Might scare the on-lookers. He lets you have your fun, cumming your little heart out while you fuck yourself on the floor. He takes a few purposeful glances at you before turning his attention back to his phone, thumbing the screen.

5 IMAGES

2 VIDEOS

TOMURA: train slut lmao

DABI: holy shit

DABI: look how wet her fucking pussy is

DABI: why’s she humping ur shit on the fucking train lmao

TOMURA: dirty twat

You’re propelled backwards onto the ground once the train stops, blinking up at Shigaraki’s tall stature as he stands, swiping at the linoleum floor with the slicked up rubber of his shoe.

You half expect him to bid you some kind of goodbye or atleast acknowledge you as he steps over your panting, crumpled form. You stare at him almost longingly as he makes his way to the exit, only pivoting his head to look back at you with a lecherous grin before dispersing into the crowd of people gathered by the doors.

Your face burns red and warm once you realise how many people on the train are staring at your wet little pussy.

[mamayan]

🎃 Happy Halloween 🎃

Shigaraki Tomura x Fem! Reader

Good girls should just stay home, lest something goes bump in the night.

cw: NSFW • Implied Murder • Implied Serial Killer • Consensual Non-Consent turned Non-Consensual • Noncon • Dubcon • Abuse • Fingering (F) • Oral (M) • Deep Throating • Rough Sex • Attempted Murder • Hair Pulling • Degradation/Slight Humiliation • Dacryphilia • Yandere Themes • Kidnapping • a little OOC • This story possessed me and basically wrote itself • Barely proof read tbh

wc: 7k+

Something must be wrong with you.

Or at least, that’s what you imagine the world would think if anyone knew what you were doing.

The room was dark aside from the blue glow of your computer screen. The black web browser with red lettering almost ominous as your eyes scanned the consent form again. It was a consent form just to access the full website, on the surface serving only as a dating type of situation for the BDSM community. Beneath it though were layers deeper than what the simple description actually provided. You only found out about it through a deep dive into multiple sub-threads of Reddit. It was a basket case of crazy, the majority of information or advice, but you managed to dig up one reliable looking source.

This website you were currently on. L@ce&R0pe.com happened to provide a wide variety of goodies, from sex toys to actual published books on shibari, there wasn’t much you couldn’t find. Except like all websites not swallowed up by the deep web, there was never any section like the one you wanted so desperately.

Except this one, because your mouse didn’t hesitate to shift and hover over the drop down section for MEET, where you could link up with real people for whatever your heart desired really. You trailed down to NEW FRIEND, and clicked. A new tab opened, this one themed differently than the main website. It was light blue and pink, almost like a baby shower, except the only thing on the page was a single drop down menu, and clicking it made your head ache. There were thousands of options, but thankfully it was organized alphabetically, so you could easily scroll mindlessly until you hit the C section.

You found what you wanted, clicking it as your chosen option and hitting GO.

The screen changed, this time it looked similar to a dating profile fillable. You worked quickly, efficiently even, as you typed all your information in.

Not your name or address, nothing silly like that. Just your measurements, your favorite foods or beverages, the color of your eyes, your hair color, your height, and even the style of your nails. It asked if you liked to brush your hair everyday, how often you showered, what shampoo or body wash you like. You answered them all, as invasive as they soon became, you never wavered. What brand of deodorant do you use? How often do you clip or file your nails? To what length? Do you shave your pubic area? How often? What style? How many sexual partners have you had? Where have you had sex? Which hole do you prefer? Are you a crier or a screamer? Does blood turn you on? Do you like physical or mental pain more? Have you ever been raped before?

They got more personal and physiological as you answered. You felt hot and stuffy despite the window being open and the cool autumn air blowing in. You kept answering even as your throat got tighter and unease nestled into your clavicle.

Do you want to know who your new friend will be?

This time you do hesitate. Knowing would make it feel safer. Knowing would give you some semblance of control. Knowing would be the smart choice.

You clicked “no” and submitted the form, sealing your fate as your hands shook and adrenaline pumped through your veins.

You set the date for October 31st. Now all you had to do was wait and show up.

A notification hit his phone, lighting up the screen as cigarette smoke billowed around him in the back alley. A quick glance was all he needed to unlock and fully see the entire screen. The leather of his jacket rubbed against the brick he leaned against.

Halloween was probably the best time for such fun, crime rates skyrocketing and parties being loud and wild really left a big gaping hole for any type of heinous activity to occur. He grinned as the information poured onto his screen. His dick already becoming painfully hard as he read all your supplied information. You liked breath play, having someone spit in your mouth, even being slapped around. He was always amazed by the lack of shortage for sick freaks like you, but then again, he was one of them too. Licking his top lip, tongue piercing flicking out to rub against his cupid’s bow, he clicked “ACCEPT” on the notification. He had all your information, the when and where, and your adorable little comment of “Please don’t degrade me.” What more could he ask for? His smile is sinister in the low light off the neon sign of the bar, casting a purplish hue on his skin as he chuckles and shoves his phone away. Flicking his cigarette butt onto the dirty ground, he cracked his neck and knuckles before going back inside to finish his beer and round of pool with his friends.

He’ll see you on Halloween. He might even dress up a little for the occasion.

It’s cold.

It’s nearly November so you hadn’t expected warm weather necessarily, but it seemed chillier than usual despite your fairly insulated dress.

You dressed up as an angel, the irony not lost on you at all but it felt fitting almost for the occasion. The pristine white looked off in your surroundings. It was nearly midnight, but despite that the sidewalk of the park was filled with a fairly regular crowd of people passing through, on to the next party or home to sleep off all the alcohol. Really, you weren’t too out of place, in your white stockings and black heeled boots, the fluffy ruffled white babydoll dress that barely covered your ass or tits and the wings which were strapped around your shoulders and jutted out behind you. On your head was a slim clip which was attached to a white shiny halo that seemed to float above you, only a thin wire keeping it up. You’d at first felt a little exposed passing children going home for the night after trick or treating, eyes of judgemental families which you ignored boring into you, but now it was time for the adults to have fun. You’d already passed a plethora of college students or older dressed even more scantily than you, making you feel better, safer, out in the park you’d chosen. You’d chosen 0300 as your designated meetup time, but specified you’d be early in case they wanted to start sooner. So here you stood, under a streetlamp that illuminated you in a yellow glow, making you seem even more angelic despite the ominous darkness surrounding you. You were busy playing on your phone, scrolling mindlessly and trying not to appear too excited. Or scared. You figured it was a combination of both, the arousal and fear bleeding into one very specific but unnamed emotion. Tapping your boot to a rhythm only you could hear, the night drew on and another hour passed. The droves of people passing didn’t dwindle, but it was always a group, never a single individual which you hoped was your new friend. It was almost 0130 when you felt watched, goosebumps rising on your skin as you realized someone must be looking at you. A quick glance around showed no one though, and after ten minutes your hope dissolved into disappointment. It seemed your friend wasn’t an early bird.

“Hey,” a raspy, deep voice speaking almost directly into your ear, startling you enough to elicit a yelp. You turned, eyes landing on a dark clothed chest and trailing up to a hooded face you could barely make out through a mess of blue hair. His lips look a bit chapped, a small scar decorating a corner, but his teeth are white and straight as he smiles a grin that causes shivers to shoot down your spine.

…maybe your friend was an early bird, just not as much as you.

You take a step back, stuttering stupidly due to your overactive nerves and the earlier shock of his sudden appearance. “H-hi…um,” the stranger tilts his head, eyes still not visible, dark hoodie baggy on his frame. He looks a bit thin, like he wouldn’t have a lot of strength, his jeans having some strange splattering of fake blood or something on them. You lick your lips, heart ready to leap from your chest but not quite ready for the events to unfold.

Or maybe you were very ready.

“You’ve been standing here for hours,” he comments nonchalantly, hands moving to shove inside the large inner pocket on his hoodie, “Aren’t ya tired of waiting for your boyfriend?” His question is a bit confusing, and when you glance around you, it dawns that there’s no one out right now. When had the crowds dwindled to nothing? “I don’t… have a boyfriend…” you had clearly stated that online too, so he already knew the answer to your relationship status. Was he just teasing? Keeping this as realistic as possible? It made you a bit pleased. You fiddled with the ends of your cute frilly dress, exposing a small portion of your skin and garter belt which kept your thigh high socks up. His eyes tracked the motion, lips pulling up even higher making his smile menacing. Dangerous. “That so?” He asks, but it doesn’t seem like he’s too interested in a reply as he steps closer, his beat up sneakers so silent on the ground it’s a little unnerving. Since he’s playing along so much, it feels wrong for you to not reciprocate.

“What do you think you’re doing, creep? Stay back,” You hope he’s not offended by the name, figuring it wasn’t too mean or odd of a thing to call him. Your firm stance and defiant gaze make him pause, head tilting again but he’s quick to recover and laugh. It’s less of a sexy and deep chuckle like you expected, and more pitched and giggly. It’s almost creepy to hear from a grown man. Like a child from a horror movie laughing. “Creep? Yeah? Guess I am, but you know what?” His head lifts, and since he’s more centered under the tall street lamp, when he looks straight at you, two red eyes flash. “I’m a lot fucking worse than your average dumbass creep,” you jolt when he lunges at you, hand outstretched to grab you. It’s instinctive how quickly you turn and run, adrenaline helping you shoot off into the park where no light but the moon shined down. This is what you wanted, you chant to yourself to stay level headed enough to not truly panic. This was staged and as safe as possible. He’s not actually going to hurt you. You’d be fine, albeit maybe a little sore tomorrow morning. You shut your mind off and focus on running, though your speed wasn’t great in such cheap and unstable boots, roots and random objects on the ground constantly tripping you up.

You looked like the dumb girl in the horror movies, tits practically out of your low cut revealing white dress, strapless white bra damn useless and more for show than any real support or push-up. You huffed, digging in your heels when you heard a few twigs snap behind you, feet carrying you faster as you realized he was gaining on you quickly. He didn’t shout and you didn’t scream. The chase was exhilarating, your mind becoming fuzzy as your lungs burned for more oxygen. You hadn’t planned a chase, really leaving it all up to fate and your new friend, but this was perfect.

Until fingers tangled tight in your hair and yanked you completely off your feet, your shoes and legs going out in front of you as you landed gracelessly on your ass. Then an intense burning in your scalp erupts, a hiss of pain and a whine escaping as you slide over cool damp foliage, senseless grumbling coming from the stranger as he drags you into a deeper more secluded section of the park, away from any and all prying eyes. Not like anyone gave a damn. “I-it hurts!” You feel childish for crying, tears pricking your eyes but the burn was worse than you imagined truly, soft hands coming up to try and pry his fingers off.

He has a grip of iron apparently, not the least bit phased as he sighs, hauling you up and tossing you in front of him. You land weirdly on your left shoulder, a shock of pain numbing your mind as you heave for air and roll over. When you open your eyes, you’re face to face with him. His hood pulled off, shoulder length blue hair now tied back and up into a little bun while some stray pieces frame his face and forehead. Your eyes adjust to the darkness as they take him in.

He’s young, maybe early twenties, with pale skin and dark bags hugging beneath his scarlet eyes. He’s got a beauty mark just below his lip on the right side, the scar you saw earlier on the other. He’s not hard on the eyes, cute even, but the strange air around him makes the close proximity fill you with anxiety. His eyebrows are thin and sparse, but he cocks one with a smirk. “Not gonna scream for help, crybaby?” The nickname makes you realize tears are streaming down your cheeks, you blink them away quickly, shaking your head and trying to find your words again. “I—uh, do you want me to?” Wouldn't screaming just make it more likely for someone to call the police? You figured a little noise was fine, but screaming seemed counter productive.

His eyes widened a bit, confusion painting his features as he crouched down more comfortably on his haunches to get a better look at you.

He’d been watching you since you got to the park. A single party in this sort of place always sticks out like a sore thumb. You looked more ready for a porno than a costume party, from behind the view of your ass indescribably arousing in your short little dress. It was both a slutty and innocent look you pulled off well, at least enough to make him riled up, cock twitching in agreement within his pants. He shamelessly rubbed it through his jeans, caressing the hardening length and letting you watch with glee. Your face made him snort, amusement evident as he chuckles and squints. “You like this, little freak?” You looked like you did, he notes. Your wide pretty eyes, still a little teary and red at the ends, showed your blown out pupils. You looked to be more star struck, not terrified like any normal girl chased through a park and dragged into a little corner between some trees to be out of sight. He watches you swallow hard, lips parting before closing as if you aren’t sure what to say to that question. “Fuck, you’re cute,” he grins, “a cute little slut who stood out at night all alone as if begging for someone to come along and do something nasty.” You release a tiny yelp as he meanly shoves you back, straddling your upper chest with his thighs as he hunches over you, looming ominously above with wild eyes screaming for chaos. “Good thing that I came along, huh? Make all your nasty little fantasies come true.” He watches you gasp as he presses his fingers against your lips, confusion evident on your face but you aren’t really putting up much of a fight as you open and let him slide two in. “Nasty fucking girl, look at you, when you don’t even fucking know me.” He chuckles, and while he’s teasing you mostly, he is amazed. You looked erotic as hell right now, little angel costume all wrinkled and a bit dirty from the earth below, pretty face a bit stained with mascara that had run a little from your earlier tears. You weren’t wearing the waterproof kind it seemed. Lips bitten and chewed on, plump and glossy from whatever glittery shit you swiped on them earlier now wrapped around his digits as he dug around in your warm wet mouth. “Suck on them, slut,” he orders, his smile dropping and face becoming more serious as you hurry to obey, a strange trepidation building in your gut. He groans as he feels your tongue wiggle and swirl, pumping his fingers a bit now and enjoying the little bleats you release when he chokes you a bit with them. “Wonder if you’re soaked down here~” he hums, leaning back a bit and yanking his fingers from your lips, wiping the excess saliva across your cheek and huffing a laugh as your features wrinkle in distaste. His hand moves behind him, easy access to your cunt due to the frilly dress hiked up almost around your waist, revealing cute soaked white cotton panties he growls at the sight of. “You really suck at putting up a fight, crybaby, but I think I heard somewhere that girls get wet when scared too…” those red eyes flick back to your own, "You scared?” He asks, almost softly. He watches you breathe, chest struggling a bit under his weight but your hands curled into the fabric of his hoodie, not pushing him away. “A little…?” Is your shaky response, and he wonders silently if you’re an idiot or just a pervert. You might be both, because when he lets his thumb dig into where your pussy lay poorly hidden, you moan for him and spread your legs wider. You make it even easier to search for his desired location, your swollen bundle of nerves. “O-oh—!” Your head falls back, little halo becoming a bit misshapen as it gets flattened to the ground, he tsks, fixing it with his free hand as he thumbs your little clit and watches you mewl and writhe beneath him, pleasure clearly visible on your face. Your hips buck and wiggle, body pinned beneath his and unable to get away or closer like you desperately want for more friction than he’s providing. “P-please,” you can’t help but beg, hoping your new friend is merciful enough to make you cum and not simply edge you all night.

It’s the pouty expression which makes him nearly feral, his grin spreading wide again as he keeps working his finger on your clit but his face closes the distance between your own. His lips just barely graze yours, and you are all too happy to part your lips and give him a sloppy kiss back, his own tongue finally slipping into your mouth where you suck. The smooth muscle in your mouth and the saliva dripping from it drive you wild, hands now dragging him closer and trying to make him do more for you. The heat spreads slowly however, his pace not changing, and despite his slim build he’s much stronger than you. You aren’t able to take any more than what is given, huffing in exasperation and groaning when he places more force before easing off. “S-stop teasing…” you whine against his lips, which were much softer than they look. He smirks, airy chuckle felt more than heard as he shakes with a silent laugh, “how can I not, you’re such a rare find, I plan to take my time with you.” He kisses you hard to silence whatever whines you planned to release to make him give you more. Instead he forces you into a slow building orgasm that leaves him having to pin your wrists above your head lest your clawing rip his skin open. He works you gently and cruelly into it, loving how you gasp and choke for him, eyes rolling back while you shake almost like you’re possessed and soak through your panties. “There you go, heh, normally I wouldn’t bother to take my time with whiny bitches, but you’re more obedient and sweet than I first assumed.” He whispers into your ear as you come down from the mind blowing high, body limp and pliant like dough now. The insult from him brings out a little whine of protest, teary eyes looking at him with almost something akin to betrayal.

“I-I don’t like being called mean names…I said so online too,” he pulls up finally, the chill of the night attacking full force on your now exposed cunt as he brings your panties up to his nose to inhale. His eyes narrow, almost into slits as he pulls them back and shoves them into his hoodie pocket. “Oh yeah? You post that shit on your social media or something? Sorry, I don’t really use those trash platforms. I have a Twitch stream though,” he acts like this is the time for a regular conversation, even as he unbuttons and unzips his jeans, yanking them down his hips to pull his cock free. Your eyes go wide, mind a bit blank and missing something, in favor of looking at him pump his length lazily. A trail of blue curls like on his head travel from his navel to his groin where it spreads out a little, the color a bit darker as it goes lower. He’s not one to shave it seems, but your eyes focus on his cock, average in length but girthy with a tip that curves up almost perfectly. It looks like a cock someone would sell as a dildo at a sex store. It was pretty, admittedly, as a few pearls of pre-cum dotted the tip and spilled over as he slowly worked it above you. “Hungry?” He jokes, but when you nod he grits his teeth and bites back a moan, the night truly more unexpected than he thought. “Open up then, crybaby.” He thankfully didn’t call you a bitch again, crybaby the less of the evils and more acceptable of a petname for your preference as you open your lips and awkwardly lean your head forward. “No need to lean up,” he mumbles, shifting until his knees now rested by your shoulders, tip just in your mouth and his forearms on the earth above your head. He’s looking down at you, and you lay back down as he works his cock in your mouth. He’s going to fuck your mouth, you realize a bit late, the position so easy for him to hit balls deep in your throat and prevent you from running just from his weight alone. You’re pinned to earth, the scent of crisp autumn becoming mingled with the musky masculine odor the stranger had clinging to him. Something smelled of iron too, but it was fainter and didn’t bother you too much, not when he seemed determined to suffocate you with his cock. You jerk a little, teeth accidentally grazing his cock and his hiss of pain alerts you that you’ve hurt him. He pulls up and out of your mouth, glaring ferociously as he looks down at you with contemplation. “Sorry—! I’m not used—,” the words leaving you mouth go unfinished as you’re suddenly looking away and down, confusion wracking your mind before white hot pain erupts across your face and you cry out in agony.

He watches with a cool nonchalance as you whimper and cry, holding your inflamed cheek and looking at him with teary eyes filled with questions. The sight doesn’t help his hardness, your face swelling a bit from the force of the blow already, but it was still arousing how you cried for him so easily. “Don’t bite my fucking dick and I won’t hit you, clear?” He’s grabbing you roughly by the hair again, yanking you up and no longer in the mood for that awkward position as he stands and pulls you to your knees. This position at least gives him a good eye full of your tits, shaking from your little trembling as you’re made to look up at him. His angry reddened cock next to your injured cheek is a sight for him, his hand gripping his shaft and slapping you lightly on the cheek with it, his hand in your hair preventing you from turning away even as you whimper in pain. “Okay, we’ll try this again, crybaby. Open.” You do, even as tears run like waterfalls down your face, mascara smeared and making a pathetic sight for sore eyes of you, you let his cock enter your mouth once more.

Because you’ve never been more aroused.

Your stranger isn’t nice, pushing hard and deep into your throat immediately and gagging you. You’re careful with your teeth, jaw already burning and aching as he locks his arm and hand, strands of hair tearing out as he works his hips into your face at an uneven pace. “Stop fucking moving,” he growls, stepping even closer, blocking any and all exits and forcing you to take it. His cock didn’t seem so scary when he’d pulled it out, but in your throat it was a plug to your oxygen and felt too big for your poor mouth. It hurt, feeling him go too deep and leaving you coughing and sputtering and even still he wouldn’t pull out, groaning and pressing impossibly deep like he truly means to suffocate you. “You got a good little mouth pussy, crybaby. Fuck—take my cock, just like that.” He moans, watching as you struggle on his dick to breathe or swallow, slobber and tears coating his cock as he makes a mess of your pretty face. He doesn’t care that your eyes are starting to roll back, hands which had previously been clawing at his legs going limp at your sides. You acted more like a hole for him to fuck when you were limp like this, and it drove him wild as he grunted like an animal and rutted into your mouth like he held a grudge against you. Both hands dug into your hair, hands pulling you back onto his cock when his hips bucked you away. “Never fucked a—holy shit—ah, mouth so damn good before—, ah fuck, fuck,” he’s getting breathier as time ticks by, his own eyes rolling back as his balls draw up tight. “I’m going to cum, ready for me crybaby? Want it in your tummy or on your face?” He’s being condescending on purpose, but it’s a bit useless considering he’s rendered you nearly unconscious on his dick. He shrugs your lack of response off, pumping his cock down your throat until he sees stars and yanks himself free just before the first spurt misses and hits the grass below, he grips the base, pumping and shooting his next shot right onto your face. He yanks your head against his thigh, delirious face dazed and coughing softly as he finishes on your glitter and mascara run cheeks, using the tip to smear it well into your ruined makeup as he sneers at you from above.

“Hah…” he catches his breath, sucking in oxygen along with you as his gaze turns calculated.

“Wake up, I’m not done with you yet.” He’s more gentle now that he's cum at least once, tapping your uninjured cheek with two fingers as your eyes roll around before opening and looking at him.

He swears, your face making him hard again instantly, blood pooling to his groin at the messy sight of you in your white ruined angel costume. “You really are unlucky I was out tonight, I don’t think I’m gonna let you go.” His dead serious comment caused something cold to hit your veins, chills running through you as you gape in shock.

“W-what…?” He reaches into his hoodie pocket, pulling out what looked like a foot long serrated hunting blade. He snickers at the blank look of shock on your features.

“What’s wrong, crybaby? No tears for me right now?” You’re shaking, getting paler by the second as you realize no, it’s not a costume, and yes, there is still dried blood on the blade. There’s dried blood all over him, his spree tonight ridiculously fruitful and his body still high on the thrill. Imagine his luck finding you. “T-this wasn’t in my profile, wh-what are you doing?” Now you look alert, now you act like a regular civilian, he notes cooly. “I only con-consented to the sex and stuff, I said I didn’t like—like blades or blood play.” Your eyes are wide as saucers and you have a cold sweat now forming and dotting your skin, shaky like on too much caffeine as your body dumped chemicals to help you run.

His head tilts, a few more strands of hair coming loose from his tie as those red eyes watch you without any emotion in their depths.

“Ah~ I get it now. Are you some kind of freak who links up with people online for this kind of shit?” He laughs, eyes not matching the manic toothy grin. “Sorry to disappoint slut, I ain’t your tinder or whatever match. Did you do it anonymously?” He’s beyond amused, thrilled by the horror dawning on your face as reality sets in. “You’re a fucking idiot.” He sneers, but he’s joyful when you book it, heeled boots caked in mud as they dig into the ground and you take off for real. True intent to get away now because he’s not your new friend, he’s a real stranger and his energy is nothing but malevolent.

You’re going to die.

It’s a sick thought that twists inside you as you push the hardest you’ve ever, scream bubbling up and out as you cry for help now. “HELP! Please! Someone! Anyone!” It’s more broken and hoarse than you want, his earlier abuse to your throat having taken a number on your ability to vocalize.

It’s empty. This damn park is empty.

Not a soul around and you can’t hear him coming for you anymore, and it only makes the tears fall harder as you drive your body to a breaking point. If no one is around you can at least aim for your car, your phone will take too much time to look at and dial the police, you’d be too open and that would mean—

Something—someone—smashes into you, your body thrown sideways by the brute force and flung roughly to the ground where you roll several feet.

It hurts—!

Your body and mind scream as pain lights up your shoulder, a previously dull ache now hounding for your attention so much it left you lightheaded. You twisted your ankle too or maybe broke it, already so regretful for the evening and your life choices that your shoes hardly broke the bank. It all hurt, and yet you still tried to crawl to get away, still eager for another deep breath of air in your lungs even if it hurt to do that too.

“Hck, please, please—help—!,” you’re a sobbing pathetic mess, and he couldn’t be more turned on by the sight. He dusts himself off like he hadn’t tackled you like a linebacker for a major league football team, his lanky form sinewy with muscle and his agility nothing to scoff at. He swirls the enormous daunting blade with a whistle, smiling more genuinely as he strolls towards your shaking form crawling away.

“Where do you think you’re going, crybaby? I said I wasn’t done with you,” he lands a solid hit to your middle, dirty sneaker smearing mud on your cute little dress, looking less and less white as the night wears on. The blow is not hard enough to damage anything, he’s sure, but you act as if you’ve been disemboweled by how you howl and heave. He rolls his eyes at the dramatics, settling one foot between your shoulder blades and pressing down until you’re left immobilized.

Your vision is blurry, going in and out of focus as you try, and try, and try to get away, cute nail polish chipped and ruined as you claw at the dirt floor for leverage.

He admires your tenacity. “You think you can get away? That anyone is coming to save you?” He brushes a few stray hairs out of his face as he laughs, the urge to gut you strong as he savors your useless little struggle. “Crybaby, look around! No one is coming! I said look,” he grinds out, dropping to one knee while his other leg remains planted on your back, his hand gripping your hair and yanking your head up to see what he meant.

There’s a fence. A metal chain link fence, and it had a sign your vision was too blurry to read through your tears.

“You ran yourself straight into the worst possible area, this is sort of your game over,” He leans down to look at you, yanking your head back and forcing you into an uncomfortable arch. He raises up the blade, fully intending to slit your pretty throat and watch your eyes as the light fades, but you blubber out a sentence which halts him.

“Y-you didn’t finish! E-earlier, hck, earlier you didn’t finish—!” Your eyes squeeze closed in pain as he yanks your head to the side. Confusion burned in him, and curiosity kept you breathing for now.

“Didn’t finish what, crybaby? Fairly certain I finished all over your face, if I remember correctly.” He has a sharp edge in his tone, something metallic fills your mouth and you realize you’ve bitten through your tongue in your panic. A few drops spill past your lips, catching his attention.

“S-shouldn’t you also f-fuck me too? I-it’s why I came out tonight, wh-why I, ah, d-did this,” it’s a long shot by any means, and he’s no fool, but you did make a good point.

He was still hard.

“Smart little crybaby, aren’t you?” He mutters darkly, setting aside his blade in favor of smashing your face into the dirt, keeping your head down as he presses against your back and yanks your hips up. Your knees are skinned from the rough handling, socks torn open and stained with blood and dirt while his calloused hands slip beneath your dress. Your breath hitches. You needed to think of some way out of this, some kind of plan to escape or incapacitate him.

He’s busied himself with your still dripping cunt. Two fingers roughly filling your hole and uncaringly stretching your tight entrance. “You really are a freak, wet even though you’re going to die, crybaby.” He felt a bit strange as you whimper and mewl below, hand slowing as he tried to place the feeling.

He shrugs it off, instead easily yanking down his jeans which were still unbuttoned and pulling out his cock once more, stroking his shaft a few times before he lined himself up with your puffy lips. “Fuck—,” he swears, eyes seeing stars as he pushes just his tip past the tight ring of muscle at your entrance, mouth opening as licks his lips and stares down at you. “Never had pussy so good…” he giggles darkly, cracking his neck as he pushes each inch inside of you, stretching you out deliciously until you’re speared on his cock with his hips flush with your ass. “Who knew you’d be the best, crybaby.” He muses, fingers digging into the fat of your hips, your little dress flipped up and over your ass so he can watch it bounce as he leans back on his knees to fuck you deeper. You need to think straight but it’s difficult with how good your body feels, the pain from earlier seeming to go away with a numb buzz as he fills your pussy, hitting perfectly against a spot that has you arching harder for more.

You really are a freak like he says.

You can’t help relaxing further, eyes dumbly looking to the side where your head rests as he pounds into you from behind, the coil in your gut growing tighter by the minute.

The clouds blocking the moon seem to part just for you, the full moon’s light no longer blocked and illuminating the little patch of grass he’d tackled you into. Something gleams, in perfect reach too as your eyes widen.

His knife.

He’d already proven you can’t outrun him, but what if he was injured? There’s a major artery in the thigh, if you hit that, wouldn’t you be able to get away?

He yanks back roughly, moaning as he feels you squeeze even tighter around him, velvet walls massaging his dick while he tries to fuck himself as deep as possible inside of you.

It hit you despite all your intentions not to, because this wasn’t safe and he wants to end your life and everything is wrong, but your body doesn’t listen. You cum with a shaky cry, and with an awkward turn of your head you watch as his head goes back and he moans, eyes closed in bliss as you coat his cock in even more slick.

You’re louder than you intended to be, but your fingers close around the hilt nonetheless, trembling with the heavy weight in your grasp, you use every ounce of energy inside you to swing it back into his thigh.

“Cute,” you scream as he catches your wrist, hand clenching so tight you feel your bones grind together as the knife falls from your grip. He twists your arm around and pins your wrist behind your back, holding it in place while his other hand remains at your hip.

“So fucking cute, crybaby. Did you cum just to distract me or was that because you couldn’t help yourself?” He’s getting a high from this, from fucking you and turning you into nothing but a toy as he bounces you on his cock, hips still but arms pulling you back and forth with ease. Scarlet eyes drink you in with undisguised sick glee, and he’s finally able to place the feeling from earlier.

“A pretty little slut trying to get her rocks off and getting shown why she should’ve been a good girl and stayed home,” he grunts, releasing you and leaning over, pinning you with his weight and nearly knocking the air from your lungs how deeply he hits you inside from this angle. Dirt fills the underbelly of your nails, your fingers digging into the earth just for some semblance of stability.

You had none. It was a sick and horrifying realization. You have no control. You can do nothing to stop this. As deeply as it made your gut sink, another odd emotion rose to the surface.

A bubbly sensation that tore through you as your tears became less from fear and more from overstimulation.

His hips piston in and out of you, bullying your cervix in this position as he ruts into you like a hound, tongue hanging out of his mouth as he moans and grunts.

You break again, spasm and cinch down on his cock like a vice while you wail as if in mourning. Maybe you are, for yourself at least. “Oh fuck—! s’too much—, please, I can’t—, f-feels good, hah,” your nearly incoherent babbling sends him over the edge along with you, his own dull nails finally drawing blood as he holds you for dear life as he releases deep inside you, tip kissing right up against you womb as he cums. You can feel it too, his cock twitching inside as the night seems to still for a moment.

He holds you for a while. Breathing you in, nuzzling his face into your neck and licking you. He holds you until his cock fully softens and it hurt to be gripped so tightly inside your wet heat, regrettably pulling away.

He stands, putting his sticky limp cock away inside his underwear and pulling up his pants, looking down at your ruined figure that had slumped over to the side.

“Y’know, crybaby… you really resemble an angel now,” he smiles, red eyes almost glowing as the moon blankets his back and shadows his face. His hair seems almost white like this, your tired eyes note. You don’t move or even flinch as he grabs his knife and yanks your limp figure up by your hair. Even now you’re still crying, face lax despite the rivers flowing down your dirty swollen cheeks. You make no effort to stop him, having given up completely.

He crouches down again, mostly eye level now as he makes you look at him.

“You got any last words?” He’s being dead serious. He feels strange looking at the almost glazed over look in your eyes.

“W-what…” your voice is barely a whisper, but the night is so quiet he catches it, “what’s your…name?”

An unexpected question.

His eyes gleam, smile ravenous as he puts his lips against your ear and whispers it.

“Tomura, what’s your name, crybaby?” He asks, gently, almost like he’s actually interested.

You hoarsely whisper it, your last time ever saying it after tonight. He hums, like it pleases him, before he brings down the knife swiftly.

Your vision goes dark, the strike mercifully painless. Your last thoughts blur as you drift into soft nothingness.

He releases your hair, grabbing your limp figure up in his arms as he chuckles and sheaths his knife properly on his hip. “Dumb crybaby” his voice almost singing the words as he whistles and walks away, the park dead silent but even if someone had seen you in his arms, he could just play the good boyfriend taking his sweetheart home safely. It’s not entirely a lie either, his eyes glancing down at your unconscious form, pretty neck unmarred but a bruise would likely form on the back where he struck you tomorrow. Tomura had never felt compelled to allow a victim to live, but then again he’s never fucked a victim either, so you’re the first for a lot. He supposed it made you quite special, his legs carrying him in the direction of his car in the parking lot about a mile south. Obsession and possessiveness swirled in those red depths as they looked at your figure.

“Good girls should just stay home…” he continues his sardonic little tune, his smile gruesome and foreboding.

Vibrant blue orbs check his surroundings again, noting once again his friend was a no show. Rolling his eyes, he knew it was too good to be true. Your profile screamed inexperienced and cautious, despite you clicking that you’d like him to remain anonymous beforehand. It didn’t matter, he’d just go enjoy some sorority girl pussy instead, figuring at 0330 that most parties would be winding down. Drunk girls dressed like sluts were his second favorite.

Dabi clicks the notify option on his app, letting the website staff know you never showed up.

Though, he muses if something did happen, the police wouldn’t be notified until it was too late. Halloween weekend after all meant you could be missing for quite a while before anyone noticed.

Not his problem though.

Post dividers/@cafekitsune

[cuckoobutinmoderation]

CUNNING-lingus

You felt so small under his gaze. He held all the power despite being the one on his knees for you. Your body was burning and squirming and trying to crawl away, pleading for mercy. But he held you so tight.

He could have pinned you in place with just his lustful eyes.

His tongue alternated between lapping over your clit and thrusting in and out of your entrance. You were drenched with desire. Your wetness mixed with his saliva and he lapped at it like a starved man.

Your face was red and your cheeks felt hot. You were in heaven. He placed a few hot, open mouthed kisses on your inner thighs. The sudden loss of warmth from your core, coupled with a distant tickling sensation of his lips made you almost cry with need.

He began kneading your breasts with one of his hands while the other spread your legs apart so he could shove his fingers inside your cunt. He immediately found that sweet spot that made you gasp and moan with ecstasy. The pads of his fingers curled and rubbed that spot while his mouth returned to your bundle of nerves. Your body spasmed with every jolt of pleasure that shot through your body. Your eyes kept rolling to the back of your head and closing but you kept them open. Looking into his own. He was proudly taking in the sight of all the sweet agony he put you through.

You felt your clitoris becoming numb from the relentless strokes of his tongue. But there was a new sensation starting to form faintly somewhere deep inside. It throbbed and grew stronger and stronger, spreading to your stomach, your breasts and down to your legs, making them shake in his grasp. Your whole body was shivering. Your orgasm was building higher and higher and then, something snapped and it all collided back into you. You went completely limp as it raked through you, raising goosebumps and driving you insane.

It lasted for a good couple of minutes, flooding his mouth with your wetness which he cleaned up, licking hungrily and not wasting a drop. You were twitching and sobbing and crying but he kept at it. You tried to push his face away, begging him to stop.

Finally, he looked up. His hand began massaging your sore muscles and he started kissing your legs and feet. You felt satisfied but exhausted. Your eyelids were closing on their own. You could barely move an inch.

To your horror, you felt him climb on top of you.

"My turn to come?"

[devildomcrybaby]

Boyfriend!Tomura touches you so deliberately, with an ease that one only uses with himself. It could be him moving your hair out of your face as they fall from your shoulder while you're reading a book or a manga. Lifting up the thigh highs that slid down your thighs as you move. Fixing your headphones when he sees you struggling to put them in the right position. Reaching out to caress your face when he spaces out lost in the grace of your features to have you look back at him with gleaming eyes and a soft smile.

But it's also undoing a few buttons of your shirt when he feels that he isn't seeing enough of your skin. He undoes enough to expose your bra, then slips two fingers inside your shirt and moves them up until he reaches the fabric on your shoulder to slide it down. Your shirt looks better like this, he thinks. And you have such a cute look on your face, all shy and embarrassed that he did that while the League was sitting around at the bar.

And it's putting a hand on your thigh as you sit, up enough to allow him to brush your panties with his pinky. He usually doesn't go any further, just likes to tease you a bit. See you squirming and look up at him with that disheartened face of yours. He knows you ache to beg him to touch you further. You'd never dare, not in public. But you wouldn't stop him if he did it on his own accord, would you?

It's resting a hand on your butt and squeezing when you bend over the counter to sip your drink and pinching or spanking your cheek hard whenever you fake giving too much attention to Kurogiri just to spite him.

It's biting your cheek, your shoulder, your arm, your butt, your thigh, anything your clothes leave exposed. He just wants to taste your skin.

It's rubbing his thumb over your breast whenever he notices you're not wearing a bra just to see your nipples show through your shirt right after. And if you are wearing one he just squeezes your tits harder, just enough so that he can still feel them through the fabric and you can feel his fingers touching you properly too.

It's sneaking a hand down your panties while hugging you from behind as you're making a smoothie. He rubs your clit in circles slowly and sniffs your hair, then he checks if you're wet enough to slide a finger inside you and he does. You protest a bit and wriggle in his arms and then he kisses your neck and lets go of you.

He owns you. And you can rest assured that he'll act like he does any chance he gets. He always makes sure he gets plenty chances. Enough so that you won't forget it.

[tang3r1n]

❝𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐓!❞

Shig is stuck at the single worst party of his life— until he spots that cutie from his biochem class.

warnings; dub/noncon, AFAB/FEM READER anal ref for like a second, unprotected sex, drunk/drugged reader, yandere-coded shig,, slut-shaming, incel-ish shig, dabi got too drunk and kinda screwed reader over, drugging(?), college au, i’m gonna redo this eventually, gross descriptions

a/n; this is my (late) secret santa gift and New Years present for the illustrious @mamayan !! i hope i did your dirty man justice, this was a part of @/ectologia’s amazing Secret Santa 2023 event they hosted!! both of these authors are big inspirations to me and i’m so glad i was able to be a part of this!

This New Years party was horrendously lame. shitty music, shitty lighting, shitty drinks; the whole thing was just an excuse for idiotic college frat douches to get wasted and fuck pretty little cheerleaders for the umptenth time.

Shigaraki watched with tepid interest as Dabi was cheered on by idiotic college students chugging his twentieth beer, scoffing as the drunk man raised his arms in triumph and let out a slurred war cry, already stumbling around. He was already sick of this place, the smell of pot and vomit burning his nostrils, just as he thought to dump his cheap booze away and kick rocks Dabi sauntered over to him, practically dragging another person with him.

Tomura felt his back immediately straighten, bloodshot red eyes widening as he saw your giggly attitude and cute little outfit. You were his shamefully massive crush from his chemistry class, the teacher’s student grader who left cute smiley faces and sweet memos on all his reports, always smiling and helpful and so so so kind to everyone. Shigaraki often got carried away staring at you during labs, watching as you bent over, how your lab coat was seemingly tightened just enough to where he can see your luscious curves, how your pretty hair falls so perfectly messy from your chaotic bun, ‘wonder how she’d look if i spread her out on this table—examine her..’

Dabi poked his chest harshly, a drunken grin plastered on his face as he held up in a mock chokehold, “lis’n h-hic!-here.. yer gonna take m’new girl n make sh-braap!-sure she ge’shome safe, kay?” Tomura rolled his eyes at his friend’s drunken speech, letting Dabi clap a hand on his shoulder to steady himself as he watched you giggle and pat Dabi’s back comfortingly. Your own cheeks were darkened and he could see the sway in your stance. Tomura couldn’t help but feel a twinge of emotion at Dabi’s declaration of you being ‘his new girl’ as he finally scoffed and pulled away, his frustration coming off as annoyance.

“Why am I in charge of your ‘new girl’?” he hissed, eyes narrowed. Your smile dropped and his gut wrenched at the sight knowing it was his fault, but he couldn’t help the little twitch of his cock at your glossy lips stuck in a cute pout. Dabi frowned and shoved the taller man harshly, stumbling a bit as he did, “dude fuck off, she’s jus’a sweet gal, wanna make sure she don’t get snatched up-hic!-I obvi’sly can’do it,” he chided, poking at Shigaraki’s chest. You interjected, pretty manicured fingers and bracket decorated wrists waving in protest, “no no no nonono, h-he don’t need to do that, ‘ll be f-fine!” you slurred and Tomura sighed, pinching his brows to hide the absolute jubilation he was experiencing. He couldn’t believe his luck— literally being hand-delivered the girl of his (wet) dreams on the shiniest of silver platters. He kept up the act, however, not wanting you to see his desperation, “nah, nah, you’re both stumbling like fucking morons, lemme go grab my shit,” he turned on his heels, calling over his shoulder, “go grab yours.” hearing your heels ‘click! click! click!’ off as you ran to get your cute purse.

“T-tomura I-ahh!” you whined and cried into your pillow, the fabric soaked and caked in your tears and makeup. You screamed as he pushed your back down into a sinfully painful arch, cock sloppily thrusting into your poor cunt. All you’d done is asked for help taking your massive heels off, bending down to untie the long, crossed straps as he snuck up from behind using his, very surprising, strength to grab and yank you up over his shoulder. You gasped and twisted, pounding on his back with your fists as he stumbled through your tiny apartment just off campus. It was only now that you regretted never agreeing to the on-campus dorms.

His whiny pants seemed to infect your very soul, bright red, bloodshot eyes staring down at you in such a creepy way, like he feared blinking would ruin his moment with you. Not like this was much of a fond moment being made, panties hanging off your ankle, shirt and bra ripped, literally ripped in half, hair frizzy and messy from his constant pulling and tugging. You felt disgusting; dizzy and nauseous, wet and gross with how loud your own pussy was squelching, the blunt ‘plap! plap! plap!’ of his balls against your puffy lips send chills of disdain and pleasure up your back, making your already jumbled brain that much more scattered.

He was so touchy, his clammy hands pinching and prodding at all your fat and curves, frantic in their path all over your sweaty skin. Shigaraki’s entire form was frantic, hips stuttering and basically humping you while his cock twitched wildly, arms and thighs quivering at he pinned you down, drool, literal spit, splattering against your face and neck as he openly crooned and moaned like a bitch in heat. You felt so violated as he praised your body, talking about ‘all those lonely nights’ and how he ‘spent so many labs with a hand down m’pants-“ god he was a fucking pervert.

You whined as his thumb found your clit, rubbing fast circles and sending a wave of pleasure through you, another wave of nausea following soon after as you bit back bile, there was no fucking way you were gonna cum from this degenerate raping you. But alas, try as you might your biology was working against you, thighs and cunt clenching around him and his cock as you neared your high. His laugh was cracks and hoarse as he leant down, greasy pale-blue hair tickling your nose as he licked a stripe up your face, drinking your tears, “mmfh—! fuck, y’gonna cum? huh?” he tried, rubbing tight circles onto your sensitive bundle of nerves. You thrashed in what little movement you could, sobbing and shaking your head, “N-NO, NEVER, YOU F-FUCKING PERV—“ he cut off your screams with a harsh swat to your pussy, causing a full body shake as you tipped over the edge.

Perhaps you would’ve been embarrassed if not blinded by the white-hot pleasure of your forced orgasm, mouth agape in a silent scream as your cum cremend his cock, creating a frothy ring of white at his base. Tomura giggled out a disgusting laugh, wiping the milky mixture and smearing it into your messy face, cooing at your disheveled appearance as he sped up his sloppy thrusts.

Just as you came down from your high, his hand suddenly pinned you back down by the neck, quickly cutting off any air as he whined above you, eyebrows creased as he fucked into your hot, messy pussy, “g-gonna cum— fill up y’pretty pussy,” he whined, using his thumb to softly poke and prod at both your lips and little puckered hole and causing you to jolt, tightening up around his again and sending Toura over to his own climax.

His ‘big o’ face was obscured by his tangled, dirty hair, a pathetically noisy groan resonating as he stilled inside you, pump after pump of warm, thick cum shot right in you. You cringed, so weak from your own finish that you did nothing but whine in protest as he slowly slipped his cock out, instantly jamming two of his lengthy fingers back in to keep his cum night and snug.

“Happy New Years, I—“

“fucking pervert.”’

[cynicalaltruist]

♫ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐖’𝐒: 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐓, 𝐃𝐔𝐁𝐂𝐎𝐍, 𝐏𝐔𝐒𝐒𝐘 𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍, 𝐍𝐎 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐑𝐊 𝐀𝐔, 𝐅𝐄𝐌!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑, 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐊𝐈, 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄 <𝟑 ♫

Stepbrother Shiggy is the worst.

The second your mom and his dad aren’t home, he’s got you spread open. In the kitchen, on the living room couch, in his bedroom, on the floor in the foyer—he doesn’t care. If the parents aren’t home, he’s on you.

Shiggy tugs down your pants and panties in one go, shimmies them down your legs until he can yank them totally off and throw them somewhere else. Then he gets a good grip on your thighs and dives in, pressing the flat of his tongue to your pussy. He groans loud and terrible, sounds similar to a wounded animal, but persists despite your cringing.

“Tomu,” you cry, arching your back in a feeble attempt to get away from his incessant movements, “C’mon- please stop- ah!”

Shiggy always slips a finger or two in when you get chatty. He licks around them, diverting to sucking at your clit while your pussy sucks his fingers in. He revels in the way you go silent, your mouth gaping as he curls his fingers perfectly to abuse your g-spot, tongue lapping at your clit in the way he knows you love.

“Good, huh?” He grins, catching his breath as your orgasm washes over you, and his fingers slow down, “I’ll never get sick of this.”

This being you, sweaty and debauched, pussy wet and twitching in the open air of the house, little reluctant hearts in your eyes as you look up at your step brother.

“I hate you,” you whine, and he just laughs.

“Whatever. We’ve got a few more hours before dad and your mom get home. You gonna repay me the favor now?” His hand moves down to his sweatpants, where his boner is shamelessly bobbing under the loose fabric. You huff sadly.

He’s relentless.

[misssilversunny]

Having thoughts of Incel!Shigaraki obsessed with Idol! Reader

Edit: Just realized I should warn y’all about a Noncon creampie.

MDNI

Like, imagine Shiggy watching every concert live at home. Buying all the merch available and keeping it in a little box in his closet. Buying tickets on a day off and attending because he wanted your true fan to be there supporting you.

You were his saving grace. The one thing that made him truly believe in something after hero society was eradicated. You made life worth living.

There’s multiple attacks during rival idol groups’ performances, as well as boy groups that people were getting a bit too comfortable shipping you with. But there’s never an attack during your performances.

He buys lingerie and sex toys themed after your idol group. Sprays the lingerie with perfume someone found on your dresser during a group AMA video and holds it to his face while fucking his fleshlight. He’s jerked himself raw watching you on more than one occasion. Fantasizing about meet cutes that lead to him fucking you backstage, in an alley, on a train, anywhere.

They’d always start with him making you laugh. He’s heard your laugh so many times that he can’t hear it without getting rock hard. You’d lean up to give him a kiss on the corner of his mouth. Such a fucking tease, he’d think. He’d wrap an arm around your waist and kiss you properly. You’d be a panting, needy mess.

He’d whisper in your ear all the things he wanted to do to you, squeezing your sides. You’d murmur something about being in public, and he’d lead you to the closest slightly-secluded area he could find. He’d strip you naked and tell you to be quiet while he fucks you like a mutt.

You’d keep whimpering about how big he was. You were splitting open, you couldn’t take it, slowly morphing into how good he was fucking you, how much you loved him, “Please don’t stop”, “I’m cumming,”.

He’d grit out that he was gonna breed your cunt. You’d beg him to pull out, but he keeps going and as you’re begging him “Not inside, please not inside, you’ll get me pregnant” His hips stutter as he pushed himself as deep as he could reach, cumming inside with a lengthy groan. And it’s so much, it’d spill out around his cock.

He’d pull out and more would spill onto the floor. You’d reach down and touch the mess between your legs, flinching slightly at the stimulation. He’d tuck himself back in his boxers, snap a photo of your used cunt, kiss your cheek, and leave.

Then reality would come crashing back down as he calmed down. He turns to look at the video he was watching, paused on you eating a push pop, leaving rings of lipstick along the length. His cock twitched in his flesh light.

Such a fucking tease.

Shiggy is so gross and mean god I want him.

[thepaperpanda]

Take things slow || Shigaraki Tomura x fem!Reader

Summary: being in particularly good mood, Shigaraki chose to take it slow with you

Warnings: smut (unprotected p in v), creampie, spit kink, degradation, praise kink, breeding kink, mentions of knife play, mentions of blood, squirting, choking

Word count: 700

Author: Bear 

A/N: this marks my debut in the Kinktober '23 Collab event, and I sincerely hope you enjoy it! Today's prompt is: Creampie.

Masterlist

"You look so cute milking my fucking cock like that's the only thing you know how to do, huh, whore?" His voice, despite the degradation in his words, carried a softness that sent shivers through your body. 

Your pussy clenched around his cock, responding eagerly to his words.

Tonight was unusual, a departure from Shigaraki's usual roughness. Shigaraki's unusually good mood that day led to him being more willing to handle things with a touch of gentleness when it came to you. He had chosen to go slow with you, savoring every inch of your beautiful, sexy body. He wanted to watch you squirm with every touch, every deep thrust of his cock in your tightness.

Tears streamed down your cheeks, sweat glistened on your forehead and temples, making you look even more enticing. You wanted to respond, but you couldn't. 

His hand gripped your throat tightly. His thrusts were unhurried but profound. The wet, rhythmic sounds of your tight pussy being filled with his length echoed in the room. It was a mixture of slight pain and intense pleasure, an intoxicating sensation that had you addicted. For these reasons and a thousand more, leaving him was simply impossible.

"I could do some art with a knife, writing my initials on your beautiful thighs," he whispered against your ear, his breath sending shivers down your spine; he then nipped at your earlobe. "So exciting, I could lick them clean of your blood." His voice dripped with desire as he continued his sensual exploration. "Cum for me again, whore."

"I-I don't think I can, master," your voice quivered, and you could hardly believe the number of times you had reached the peak of pleasure already; you were always surprised by the stamina that Tomura had in bed.

"I damn well know you can, slut," he encouraged you, his hand still firmly gripping your throat. Shigaraki took advantage of your open mouth, collecting some of his saliva and, with an audacious sound, spat it into your waiting mouth. The droplet landed at the tip of your tongue, and without hesitation, you swallowed it down. Shigaraki's chest swelled with pride, and as a reward, he spat again, this time right onto your already slick clit. He couldn't conceal the smirk that spread across his face when he saw the droplet sliding down your folds, reaching the point where your bodies were connected. "I know you can, because you're your master's good pet."

By then, his thrusts had become delightfully sloppy, and with each one, he released a mix of compliments and degrading words into your ear. A knot was forming deep within you, signaling the approach of a new orgasm. Your moans revealed your desire, as did the way you clung to his throbbing dick, unwilling to let go. 

"Come on, doll. Make your master proud," Shigaraki snarled, and a few more intense thrusts were all it took to push you over the edge. This time, though, it was different. Your essence surged from your core, splashing between your thighs and wetting Shigaraki's abdomen and the bed. You could see, even with your eyes half closed, a wry grin on his face.

Shigaraki relentlessly pistoned into your eager pussy, his determination clear as he aimed to reach his own climax. In just a matter of minutes, he gripped your waist firmly, holding you in place as he released deep inside you. Afterward, he withdrew to savor the sight of the copious amount of semen mingling with your own fluids, all dripping from your entrance. You groaned when you felt two fingers enter your pussy. Tomura just wanted everything to stay inside and not waste any of his cum. A single thought that in a few months he might see you round with his child and your breasts full of milk for the baby made him want to fill you full of his cum until you can't take it anymore. "Goddamn. You’re my good slut," he whispered on your lips, giving you a soft kiss. 

Exhausted, you closed your eyes, every slight touch sending shivers down your spine as your body was still overstimulated. "Only for you, my master," you whispered, your lips barely parting.

[melancholymegumi]

melody’s current thoughts..💭

eraserdust ddlg/ddlb :((

warnings; ddlg/ddlb (?), yandere, tomura still doesn't accept the fact that he's under shota , reader was caught masturbating, spanking , idk what else

yes, eraserdust but instead of switch reader why not make reader and tomura a sub? you being the hyperactive one, jumping around and running around, almost always bent over his lap.

Meanwhile, Tomura thinks you're absolutely ridiculous. Of course he's not shocked that you were getting cuddled by Shouta again. After taking 20 spanks for breaking a vase.

Other than that, Tomura doesn't think that Aizawa should have control over him. Who is he to order him around? Why does he babytalk so much? It's annoying. Well, that was until he found out that he needed to get permission to even jerk off.

“And I thought you're supposed to be a good girl this week. Really?” your face went pale. What's he doing at home? Wasn't he supposed to be outside with your daddy? “I- I am! don't tell daddy please..” “Fine, but what's in it for me?”

God, he's gonna have so much fun with you.

“I’ll..give you a blowjob..?” “why would I want an impatient whore on my dick? Seriously, you'd rather have a plushie against your cunt than a dick?” he scoffed out, rolling his eyes and fidgeting with his phone that show your daddy’s number on speedial. “I'll do your chores too! please please please tomura, don't tell daddy?”

“Twenty bucks and I'll get to fuck your ass.” “deal.”

Well, I mean now you're both in trouble at least. He knows you're fucked as soon as the car pulled into the driveway anyways.

taglist : @honeybunnxo @adoresizuku @dcsiremc @notalwaysa . +(Some of these tags don't work, so please check your tagging settings.)

[dearbaji]

NSFW not a complete coherent thought but I found it kinda funny

One night you're giving Shigaraki head, he's standing and you're on your knees in front of him. He wants to release on your face and you agree, but tell him not to get any on your hair. You're looking up at him as he strokes himself now, very close to finishing, but you tell him to wait and put your hand on his thigh. Getting up, you go to get a shower cap or a bonnet to cover your hair since you know he'll most definitely miss. You come back to your original position, hands in your lap and go "ok, ready". He's staring at you dumbfounded, his high slowly fading away. Then he starts giggling, not at you but at the situation: that you actually got up and ran to the bathroom, put the cover on your head, and came back like it was nothing. You roll your eyes and take him in your mouth again and he's moaning while laughing, head thrown back eyes closed with each laugh that fades into a moan then pant, then back again.

Idk just picturing him laugh then moan is just,,, so very hot to me 😩

[ectologia]

I don't know how to explain this but bear with me! Reader and Tomura have a dynamic of a popular girl who is secretly a total masochist and a nerdy incel guy who is a degenerate freak and gets off humiliating and degrading the reader. Not sure if that was coherent but it's been rotting my brain and I needed to share

♱ ˖ ࣪࿐ 𝒟𝐼𝒞𝐻𝒪𝒯𝒪𝑀𝒴 ؛ 𝓉𝑜𝓂𝓊𝓇𝒶 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝑔𝒶𝓇𝒶𝓀𝒾

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 ؛ dubcon ﾉ noncon ﾉ quirkless au ﾉ college au ﾉ bullying ﾉ abuse ﾉ graphic violence ﾉ unhealthy relationship ﾉ blood ﾉ profanity

“Hey, Tomura.”

Blood-reds peer up at you through fluttery, moth-like lashes. Pale and silken like an angel’s. He tugs his headphones down to rest around his neck before setting his phone in his lap. “Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?” You thumb a lock of hair behind your ear.

He’s dubious by the way your friends chitter behind you. Petite hands and manicured nails swat at each-other, hissing between smirks. His ankles uncross, planting themselves firmly on the ground as though in preparation. He winces through his response. “Yeah.”

“What’s wrong with your skin?”

You’ve barely finished your sentence before you’re doubling over with witchy cackles, the girls behind you following suite.

Tomura doesn’t find it funny at all, in-fact, he doesn’t even understand the joke. Dull nails rake at his protruding collarbone before sinking further into the pool of his hoodie, swimming nose deep in the black fabric. “I have a skin condition..”

A piggish voice squeals from behind you. “What’s it called? Not washing?”

He scowls, biting a scabbed-over chunk of blood from his lip, shrinking further into his hunched position in an attempt to make himself as small as possible, or as small as you can be after being picked apart by a bunch of snot-nosed bitches.

You get the last laugh as you strut off with your group, leaving him boiling with rage. Clutching his phone between a set of white knuckles and wringing the strap of his bag in the other. His palms split inside his fists, wretched and shaking with ire.

Of course, that was only the first of many instances.

He remembers on another account, when you’d pulled his hood down in-front of everyone and sneered in disgust at the powdered nest of matted white hidden beneath. Or when you and your gaggle of other titless twats thought it would be fun to fling food at him during lunch, sealing the deal by dumping a fresh load of apple juice into his lap. He’d waddled home that evening, quivering at the sticky feeling of liquid squelching in the pocket of his underwear. Or another time, when you’d tripped him up on the way to his seat, howling with laughter along with everybody else as he laid face down in the middle of the classroom, snivelling with a scuffed chin and bruised cheek.

But, despite everything.. all these things added up — just makes it that much more delicious when he finally gets to face you alone.

Tomura’s palm collides with your face, once on the left side and then on the right, knocking you about with a heavy hand bludgeoning you to the brink of death.

Your whimpers only spur him on as he kicks your heels in, sending you flying, knees splitting atop the sharp gravel coating the ground. “Tomu—”

“Shut the fuck up.” A rubber sole plants itself onto your cheek, imprinting it’s swirled pattern into your skin in a heap of dust. He stands above you, stoic and proud, uncaring of the sickening crunch that erupts from your broken cartilage. “You shut your fuckin’ mouth, I can’t be asked to listen to your whinin’ right now. I’ve already got a fuckin’ headache.”

You heave through the stream of bubbling crimson pooling on your tongue. “I’m sorry, Tomur—”

“Oi, what’d I just say?” He kicks you again, digging the tip of his red sneakers into your stomach. Swinging his leg back, he clobbers you, battering your, no doubt, already bruised body further. “Stupid — fucking — dumb — ass — bitch.”

A spill of blood accompanies your gasps, left retching and writhing and clutching at the ground, clawing at the loose stones dotted about the pavement.

“You like that, huh?” He crushes your fingers, twisting and grating them into the concrete as you scream, clinging to his shins in prayer. “Yeah, you do. You fuckin’ love it.”

He squats down to cradle your chin in his palm, craning your neck back into a painful arch. “Who’s my little bitch? — That’s right you are.” He coos at you through grit-teeth, pressing down on your popped lip with the pad of his thumb. “You are..” He whispers before letting the weight of your head fall again.

“I hope you’re thirsty.”

The zip of a fly has your ears perking, squinting through your lashes at the pale length throbbing in his palm, slit already frothing with pre. “Get that fucking tongue out.”

“Wait, Tomura, please!—”

“What? — I don’t think I asked you, you cock-sucking little bitch.” He brandishes his cock like a weapon, squeezing it between dangerous fingers. “Get that tongue out now, before I do it myself.”

You comply with a whimper. Statuesque as you point your tongue out wide, leaking thick globs of drool over your chin and onto your shirt.

“Better.”

It wouldn’t be uncommon to expect the plush velvety feel of a salty tip prodding at your mouth, snaking its sweaty shaft down your gullet. But this time, you’ve been particularly naughty.

“You think it’s fuckin’ funny, huh? Gettin’ your little boyfriends to jump me in the bathroom?” He clutches your neck in a vice grip, jostling your spooked form. “Well, since you seem to like playin’ around toilets so much — I’ve got you a little gift.”

His fat dick jumps while a stream of urine accompanies his harsh jerking. “Yeah, get it down ya’.” He whistles, shooting the acidic stream of piss straight to the back of your throat, making a game of it as you gag and cack at the air.

“Had enough?” He angles his cock down, allowing you a burst of air but soiling your clothes in the process.

You nod frantically, gurgling with bubbles foaming.

“That’s cute.”

He sprays the last few acrid droplets over your forehead, letting it drench your hair to the root and then some.

Your nose wrinkles at the smell, putrid and pungent and most likely undiluted by the amount of water you know he drinks, or lack of.

You’re hoisted onto your feet by a pair of hands. Looking down, you see how the curve of his cock slaps against your hip. Propped up against the wall, he hikes your legs up over his elbows, pinning you into a tight hold where you’d have no chance at escape. He only peels the crotch of your underwear to the side, letting your chubby folds do the rest of the work by holding it in place while sliding his uncut prick up and down the little triangle placed between your thighs.

“Preparation isn’t needed when you don’t deserve it”, Is what he whispers into your ear, stale breath warm and ticklish against your canal as he begins to sheath himself inside, chunky mushroom tip popping through the first ring of muscle before feeding the rest through. It’s akin to being impaled in the awkward position, sat without a centre of gravity on a hot, girthy pole, just twitching to tear you through the middle and come out the other end.

Tomura’s eager to hurt you, already humping you against the bricks, bouncing you up and down with guttural and down-right animalistic grunts. The noises are purposeful, he doesn’t need to make such strange sounds but he much prefers the curl between your brows to the foggy look in your eyes.

“I’m fuckin’ you.” It’s an odd but factual statement. “I’m fuckin’ your pussy. My dick is inside you. You get that? Raw.”

“Uh, huh.” Your jaw whips up and down, soft as your tongue hangs out.

He’s unsure whether to scowl or smirk — so he settles for a bit of both, catching a lip between his stained teeth. “You’re a freak.“ Forehead to forehead, he puffs into your mouth, loving you down with a thumb digging into your crack “What would all your friends say, hm? That you like gettin’ your ass beat and raped after school everyday.”

Sharpened fingernails dig into the flesh of his striped neck, crying out with dewy eyes falling, rolling behind sunken eyelids. “Ngh.. I’m.. I — gonna’..”

He smacks your face for the umpteenth time, a litter lighter than the others. Perhaps even a tap. “Don’t you dare.”

“Ca..”

Your toes curl inside your socks and your pussy tightens, twisting and pulling on his engorged manhood despite his obvious protests. He drops you on your rear, startling your spinal cord as you hit the concrete with a thud, legs still shivering and clitty still pulsing with the shattered remains of your ruined orgasm.

Tomura growls with a livid expression as his cock spurts, still throbbing with the remembrance of your gummy hole massaging him. His balls tighten and he throws his head back, canines bared as he lets the white darts shoot out onto your face.

“God — shit — wasn’t meant to fucking cum..” He murmurs, dabbing a knuckle over the damp sheen across his forehead.

He cracks his neck, then zips up his pants, shaking off the tension held between his shoulders before snapping his fingers, nudging your crouched form with the toe of his shoe. “Come on then, hand it over.” He demands with an almost exasperated sigh.

Panting, you turn to rummage through your bag. With two $20 notes crumpled in your palm, you offer them to the man with timid, shaking hands.

Enthusiastic as he snatches the paper from you, he eyes the green with scrunched carmines before clicking his tongue. “Seriously, $40 bucks? That’s it? I even made you cum you stingy cunt.” He looms over you with a menacing glare.

“Uhm.. I.. there’s..” You search through your pockets in a frenzy. “I don’t have any more on me..”

“Well, that’s gonna’ be a problem then, isn’t it?”

“I.. I can give it to you tomorrow! I’ll get you another 20!”

He tuts, narrowing his eyes at you before turning on his heel. “Make it 30.”

As he moves to make his leave, you begin to crawl with desperation, reaching out for him with an outstretched arm. “Wait!”

“What.”

“..Do.. Do you want to hang out this weekend?..” He thinks you resemble a love-sick puppy with the way you blink up at him. “..Please?.. Tomu-kun?..”

There’s a hint of a smile that plays on his cracked lips as he looks down at you, still thumbing the creased bills in his pocket. “Hm.. Actually—”

“Make it another 40.”

[inkykeiji]

anonymous said: what would flawless tomura do if they were at a party and he left reader alone for a few minutes and came back to some guy talking to her?

character: shigaraki tomura

genre: smut

notes: okaaaay so it’s a teeny tiny bit more than just talking to her but ah anon! this ask immediately sparked an idea in my brain and i just had to write it for you! this is set within my flawless AU and it’s pretty much a prequel to part two!

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, daddy kink, semi-public sex, toxic relationships (jealousy, possessiveness), minimal prep, rough sex, noncon nonsexual touching from a stranger, size difference, implied yakuza

words: 4k

Tomura hates these things.

As far as he’s concerned, these overly extravagant ‘work functions’ are nothing more than an excuse for a bunch of bigwigs and hotshots to get together and jerk each other off.

Really, it’s not much different than a college house party; if you take away the opulent venue and the nice clothes and good food, it’s practically the exact same thing.

He hadn’t wanted to bring you, fucking despises the thought of having you in the presence of any of these animals at all—disgusting and crude and primal and dangerous—but Kurogiri had insisted.

It looks good to include her, Tomura, he had said. You know how important these events are to your father.

And he knows how important you are to Tomura. But Tomura supposes that doesn’t matter nearly as much in his father’s eyes, now, does it?

In his mind, you’re just some silly little girl, a shiny new toy for Tomura to play with, to occupy his son’s time until he needs him, until he once again deems him useful. Then it’s expected you’ll be cast aside in favour of the family business, because nothing could ever be more important to Tomura, poor little orphaned Tomura, saved from the clutches of poverty by the Shigarakis, than the family business he’s being groomed to own one day, right?

Wrong.

But his father doesn’t give a fuck about that. He’s right if he says he’s right, end of discussion, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

So you’re here.

You had been cautiously excited to attend, desperate to earn his father’s favour, to prove that you’re worth it, worth all of the time and energy and love Tomura spends on you; that you can belong, if you really try to.

It’s sweet, really, how eager you are to be a part of the family. Impossibly, it makes Tomura love you even more.  

Kurogiri’s been bouncing around the banquet hall like an efficient but headless chicken, splitting his time between checking in with guests and keeping a watchful eye on Tomura, since he has a nasty tendency to suddenly and miraculously disappear into thin air at these things.

The corner Tomura has the two of you wedged in is shrouded in shadows and at the back of the room, far from all of the excitement, the chattering voices and chewing teeth. It’s still loud, though, a mess of chaotic and indistinct noise, booming laughter tangled with confident speeches wafting over you in waves, carrying with them the scent of hors d’oeuvres from the self-serve table at the head of the room.

Your tummy growls, nothing more than a gentle rumble beneath Tomura’s palms, and he hugs you tighter, chin hooked over your shoulder as he nuzzles into your neck a little in apology.

“I’ll have Kurogiri grab you some food the next time he makes his rounds, baby, I promise.”

A dainty hand lays atop his own, fingers snuggling between the gaps of his own and resting there.

“Thank you, Daddy,” you murmur, the side of your head knocking against his own.

And, oh, that word.

That special word, nothing more than a sweet huff of breath on your tongue, five little letters that get his blood surging and his chest puffing and his spine straightening.

That one word that summons the true dominant that lays dormant at his core, slept and stomped on by inherent brattiness; that single word that pumps his whole body full of heady authority, muscles swelling with it, tense and gorged on the power it affords him.

But then your tummy grumbles again and Tomura frowns, fingers flexing as they sink into your flesh, holding you closer. Your ankles hook around his calves in response, body melting further into his—giving in, giving over, complete and total control—sagging s little in his lap, and he sighs.

But there’s no way you can get up, no way he can allow you to get up, to go anywhere near the food so meticulously laid out across a long, white table. Because Tomura has already seen the way these mongrels called men have been staring at you, eyes sick and starved as they try to swallow you whole, gazes nipping at your bare legs, tearing at your sweet little dress.

Instinctively, his body curls further around your own, shoulders hunched and chest curved as it molds to your back, almost as if he’s trying to hide you away within himself, within his flesh and bone and soul, far away from those ogling eyes and their gnawing little teeth.

Kurogiri returns not long after, though he is not able to fulfill Tomura’s promise, a slight breathlessness to his tone as he delivers a directive.

“Tomura, your father needs your assistance.”

“What?” Tomura hisses, head whipping to face his handler, eyes narrowed sharply. “With what?”

“There are some people he’d like you to meet,” Kurogiri responds calmly, unfazed.

Tomura’s features pucker, the mere thought sour in his head. “You can tell him to fuck right off, I’m not—”

“Tomura,” Kurogiri cuts him off, stern but not sharp. “Is this appropriate behaviour for a CEO-in-training? These are very important guests—important clients, and it is imperative that you continue to keep our relationship with them in good standing.”

Scarlet eyes dart between you and Kurogiri, settling on the crown of your head, a certain type of woefulness imbuing his features—mouth turned down, eyes drooping slightly, forehead woven with lines of worry.

“She’ll be alright on her own for a second or two,” Kurogiri continues, voice softening. “It’ll only be for a moment, Tomura. Just come say hello.”

“Fine, fuck.”

With the utmost gentleness, Tomura slides you off his lap as he stands, taking your jaw between his palms, bony fingers splayed across your cheeks, so long his middle fingers nearly rest on your temples.

“I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy,” you laugh a little, nudging forward to press a quick peck to his lips. “Promise I’ll survive on my own while you’re gone.”

“You better,” he threatens, cold voice contradicted by the mirth shimmering in his eyes and the love tugging at the corners of his lips. “Be back in a minute or less.”

“Thirty seconds,” you hear him growling to Kurogiri as he stalks off, vying fingers already gouging his own flesh, nails leaving thick divots that pool rapidly with blood in their wake. “Thirty fucking seconds, that’s all they’re getting from me.”

Your eyes trail after him as he weaves through the space, an ache, dull and heavy, settling behind your ribs when you spot the ribbons of crimson adorning his neck, trickling onto his crisp white collar, Kurogiri hastily attempting to dab at them as Tomura viciously swipes at his hands.

The ache throbs, expands and pushes against your ribs as if it’s trying to escape the cage, as if it’s trying to propel you forward, urging you to act, to move, to go be with him.  

“Hey,” a voice pulls you from your thoughts, and you startle slightly, gaze snapping towards its owner. “You looked lonely—Like a lost kitten, or something. This your first time at one of these things?”

It’s clearly a lie, you know it is, can see the falsities glimmering in his stretched smile, wide and tense and hungry across his cheeks—there’s no way this man didn’t see you with Tomura only mere seconds ago.

“Uh—”

“I’m Shin,” he continues, eyes obscured by the chandelier lights glinting off his glasses. Even veiled, you can feel it, the man’s slimy gaze gliding up your body, slowly, studiously, and leaving a filmy trail behind it. Your flesh crawls along your bones, feeling wrong, dirty, bare, and you wrap your arms around yourself, hugging your ribs. “Nemoto Shin. I work for a, uh, friend of the Shigarakis.”

“Oh,” you say, dull as your eyes skip across the crowd, feet shifting a little as you lean away, hunting for Tomura in a sea of businessmen.

“Actually, I’m a doctor of sorts.”

Your narrowed gaze drifts back to his, eyebrows knitted slightly.

“Of sorts?”

“A chemist, kind of.”

“Kind of?”

Smirking, he tilts his head to the side as if he finds you fascinating, revealing dark eyes as the light catches on his hair.

“I run clinical trials, collect data, and then revise.”

And it’s the way he says it, voice imbued with a sort of deranged glee that smears his sharp smile wider, as if he takes pleasure in conducting these experiments, that has shivers skittering up your spine, nails digging into your biceps as your arms squeeze your torso.

“On people?”

“Of course.”

“Oh. That’s, uh...”

Your eyes dart around the venue again, expensive silk suits and leather loafers all a blur as you search for an out, a familiar face, someone, anyone.

“You know,” Shin begins conversationally, taking a step closer to you. “You look like you’re about the correct age and height for our newest study.”

Large hands wrap around your own, fast and sudden, and forcefully uncurl your fingers, tugging your arms from around your body and holding them out wide, leaning back on his heels to fully appreciate you.

“In fact, I’d say you’re perfect.”

A discontented whine catches in your throat as you struggle in his grasp, attempting to pull your wrists free, Shin’s grip tightening to near bone-crushing in response.

Yelping, you wrench again, trying harder to jerk yourself away from him. He merely laughs in response, a sound that shoots spikes of ice through your limbs, and yanks your arms open further, tutting his tongue as if your struggle is so adorable, head quirked to the side with an egging smirk.

“What do you say? Want to participate?”

“No, you bastard! Ugh, let go of me!”

“C’mon,” he goads, eyes gleaming with poorly concealed sadism. “I promise it won’t hurt. In fact,” his head dips a little, looking at you over the wire of his spectacles. “You might even enjoy it.”

“She’s good. Thanks, though.”  

Tomura’s voice has the man flinching, a jolt of panic surging through his veins and loosening his muscles, your arms dropped from his hands in an instant. He recovers quickly, though, any traces of alarm smoothed out from his expression a second later, features morphed into a perfect mask of professionalism.

“Tomura,” he says with a polite nod, a small but appropriate smile on his face. “You’re looking well.”

Tomura says nothing in response, glaring at him through sharpened eyes, crimson simmering with such anger you swear you can see the heat waves radiating from his sockets. He holds the man’s gaze until, finally, the man looks away with a cower, head hung in submission.

And then Tomura’s turning away with a sneer, catching your hands, busy mauling his biceps in desperation, with ease and wrapping a palm around your arm.

“Fucking vultures,” he’s spitting as he all but drags you from the venue, the fingers cuffed around your wrist tensing. “I leave for, like, a minute and they’re all over you.”

“I—I’m sorry,” you’re whimpering as your free hand winds around his forearm, jogging a little in your haste to keep up with his pace.

“Sorry?” he questions, the word seething on his tongue, as if you’re stupid for even apologizing at all. “It isn’t your fault, princess.”

And even though his voice is still scalding, the look he throws you over his shoulder is soft, stuffed full of love.

“Besides,” he’s continuing as he shoves past the heavy glass doors at the entrance of the hall. “I’m gonna show those fuckers who you belong to.”

The satin toe of your heels catches on the rough concrete, instantly causing it to scuff and fray as Tomura hauls you along behind him, the slap of his trademark red sneakers echoing out among the parking lot with each hasty stomp toward his car.

“Tomura, wait!” you’re calling as you teeter quickly behind him.

But he isn’t listening, your staggering not nearly fast enough for his liking, giving another harsh yank on your arm with such vigour it sends you stumbling right into his back, ankles wobbling a little as you almost trip over your own feet, a little yelp sounding in your throat.

He catches you easily, though, skinny arms wrapping around your form, offering minimal stability as they slam you against the driver’s door of the Bentley, effectively trapping you between the metal and his body.

Knobby knees are parting your legs instantly, sharp as they barge at your inner thighs and force them open, his feet framed by your own.

His hips slot up against yours, bones defined and protruding as they press into your supple flesh, his cock already half-hard.

And, God, you’ll never tire of how easily he gets hard, just the thought of your cunt enough to send a rush of boiling blood to the apex of his thighs, to fill his cock, a girlish giggle bubbling past your lips.

“Something funny?” he’s asking as large hands cup your jaw, fingers curling around the hinges and dragging your face upward, prohibiting you from answering as he all but smashes his lips to yours, keen tongue prying through your lips to lick at your teeth.

It’s messy and enthusiastic, just like kissing Tomura always is, smears of drool glistening across your chin and dripping off your jaws in fat, sticky globs to cool in little puddles on your collarbones, dribbling steadily from the corners of your lips as they move and mash and mesh.

His hands work in tandem with his mouth, large palms sliding up your thighs and beneath your dress, hem pooling around his wrists as he reaches your pretty pink panties, revealing your bare legs to the throngs of men clustered around the gilded doors, leering at you through hazy clouds of cigar smoke.

A squeak of his name is pushed from your tongue onto his, muddled and weighted with spit, eyes popping open as vying fingers begin to twist and tear through dainty lace, elastic band snapping audibly against your waist a moment later, leaving a lingering sting in its place.

“Daddy!” you whine as your panties flit to the asphalt in a ruined little heap, legs instinctually trying to snap shut only to be kept wedged open by his hips, a dark chuckle soaking into your skin as his lips glide clumsily from your mouth to your jaw and down the curve of your neck, painting your skin in slick strokes of saliva.

“I’ll buy you more, y’little brat,” he mumbles into your shoulder, teeth sinking into the muscle a moment later and forcing a pitchy cry from your throat, the sound embarrassingly loud, echoing through the parking lot.

His jaw flexes, tenses, burrowing sharp ivory deeper into your flesh until they slice through it, staining his mouth with your blood. His tongue laves over the wound, sops up the oozing blood like it’s sugary syrup tinged with copper, and seals the bite with spit that turns frigid the moment his mouth is gone.

A large hand squeezes your thigh, fingertips dipping into plush skin as they hoist your leg up, hooking it over his hip. You can feel his clothed cock, prodding your bare hole as he ruts unevenly against you, premature little thrusts that he can’t quite seem to quell.

A collection of baritone murmurs draws your attention back to the men, tendrils of smoke coiling in the air as they watch the scene in front of them unfold, exhaling little chuckles and comments among themselves, eyes never straying from your bodies.

It all feels so fucking grimy, their gazes sludgy as they creep across your frame, thick like glue as Tomura’s free hand traces up the curves of your torso to knead your breast much too hard, eliciting a low whistle and a smattering of claps.

“Daddy, Daddy, they’re looking,” you whimper, casting another quick glance at the men and wincing when your eyes connect with theirs.

“Let them look.”

“Tomura!”

“I want them to look,” he growls, a sort of petulant possessiveness bleeding into his tone. “I want them to see who you fucking belong to, I want them to see what they can’t touch, I want them to see who it is that makes you cry and scream and cum. ”

“No, Daddy, please,” little fingers curl in the cashmere of his dress shirt, attempting to use his body as a shield. “Not here, not like this, not all out in the open—”

“Oh, come on, don’t be such a baby.”

“No, no, no,” you’re nearly weeping, head shaking in shuddered little movements.

Panic rips viciously at your chest, rising high in your voice as protests pour from your lips, heated face burrowing into the junction of his neck. You’re pawing at his shirt now, a few of the buttons popping open to reveal milky skin stretched over a prominent collarbone.

“You can do it, angel,” he chides, voice just a hint gentler. “I know you can do it for me.”

A hiccup hitches in your throat, caught painfully on a breath, interrupting your stream of pleads, burning tears leaking from your crunched eyelids and staining his collar with salt.

“Please, please, please,” the word is humid against his neck, exhaled on shaky little gasps, letters disintegrating into droplets of condensation on his scarred skin. “I don’t wanna, please, Daddy, I don’t—”

“All right, Christ,” he’s groaning over your pathetic begging, pivoting your bodies quickly and keeping an arm wrapped around your waist as he rips the drivers door open.

Collapsing heavily behind the wheel, he pulls you down with him, hands rough and cumbersome as they try to rearrange your body into straddling him.

It’s cramped, one knee digging into the centre console while the other leg bends, foot planted on the leather of the seat.  

“Get my fucking cock out,” he’s spitting at you the moment the door shuts, hips pushing upwards in emphasis. “I can’t fucking wait any longer.”

You’re obeying in an instant, dainty fingers clawing at the buckle of his belt, leather cracking as you yank it free from the prong. Then he’s lifting his hips again, aiding you as your fingers hook in the waistband of his briefs and tug, pulling his trousers down with them.

His thighs spread instinctively, elastic and cotton cutting into thin muscle.

“C’mon, c’mon,” he’s muttering as his palms wrap around your hips again, dragging you towards him to hover over his swollen, leaking cock. A hand grips the base, holding it steady as he lines it up with your hole, the head bumping against your cunt.

For the breath of a moment, everything is still, your combined panting ragged as it rings throughout the car, dense and tangled. Your forehead knocks against his own, hands clamped over the back of his seat.

And then he’s shoving his cock into you with one quick, sharp thrust upward, a high whine escaping your lips as your face scrunches in pain.

Your cute little hole stings as his cock tears through it, rips you open wide and forces you to take it all, a loud cry spilling from your lips as Tomura holds your hips in place, savouring the way you spasm around him, desperately trying to adjust to his girth.

The pace is brutal right from the start—not that you’ve come to expect anything less from Tomura—the snapping of his hips vicious as he pounds into you, sweet little snarls falling from scarred lips with each slam of his cockhead against your cervix.

There’s nothing for you to do but just take what he’s giving you, his grip on your waist blooming tiny blotches of blues and purples in the shape of his fingerprints into your skin as he holds you in place, thighs flexing in time with his powerful thrusts, the soles of his sneakers skidding against the rubber floor mat as he uses his feet for leverage.

It hurts, but Tomura doesn’t care, hips rapid, rabid, ruthless as they piston into you, so rough and hard and fast that it has your entire body shuddering, the thin, sharp heel of your stiletto skidding against white leather, tearing it open.

It hurts, but it’s also so fucking good, choked little wails of his name and his title knotted on your tongue, each one fucked out of you as he bounces you on his cock, easy and effortless like you’re nothing more than his favourite little toy.

And there’s something so hot about it all, something so wicked and disgusting and deliciously depraved about fucking in the middle of a crowded parking lot, open and on display for anyone to see as the sun begins its descent below the horizon, lacking the protective veil the night brings with it.

You can feel their eyes searing into your skin, glaring and gawking, wide and unblinking, the Bentley’s thick windows doing little to lessen the smoldering of their gazes as they roam your body, the Bentley’s bulletproof glass muffling the howls and the whistles.

It sends sick thrills racing through your veins, leaving your blood fizzy and muscles tingling, a loud moan, stuttered by Tomura’s incessant bucking, tumbling from your lips.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s it, baby,” he says, but his voice is hoarse, straining under pleasure, edges of his words breathy, almost whiny in a way, as if he’s begging instead of instructing. “Show them. Show them how pretty my cock makes you.”

“Yes, Daddy, yes, Daddy,” you’re whimpering out, head nodding in tiny, short motions with your words.

And you do—ever the perfect, obedient, good little girl that you are—cumming pathetically quickly, the fast, hard drag of his cockhead over that swollen patch of tissue buried deep inside of you combined with the peeping, prying eyes resulting in your sweet cunt convulsing almost violently around his cock, thighs aching and tense as his title shatters on your tongue.

It’s so much, slick gushing down his shaft to soak into the waistband of his pants, bare thighs slippery with your essence, sick and sticky with each slap against your ass, obscene sounds echoing throughout the car.

“F-Fuck,” he gasps, the curse cracking in his throat, head knocking back against the headrest and face contorting in ecstasy, watching you through lidded eyes and thick black lashes.

His thrusts have turned messy now, rhythm sloppy and irregular as he jackhammers into you almost desperately, clenched teeth bared and on display.

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy—” you’re mewling, grappling little fingers twisting in his damp shirt, nonverbal begging imbued in the motion.

“M’cumming,” he nearly moans, cutting you off before you can even ask for it.

He gives you exactly what you want, a mere two thrusts later, whole body going rigid as his nails gorge themselves on the flesh of your hips, holding you still as his cock pumps you full of thick, hot cum.

And he’s so fucking beautiful, breathtakingly so, so much that it decays your words and kicks them from your chest in frail little huffs.

Sliver tufts of hair have flipped upwards, clumped and curled with salt, tiny dewdrops of sweat collecting on the points, glittering in the waning sunlight. The white of his shirt has turned translucent, sodden and sticking to his juddering ribs, expanding and straining beneath his heavy, laboured breaths, the whole cage starkly defined, shadows outlining all of the curves and contours, bumps and ridges, each bone and every gap.

But then he’s pulling you from your admiration, gangly arms wrapping around your body tightly.

“Mine,” he murmurs as he hugs you to his chest, whole body finally deflating, soaking into your own.

“Yours,” you whisper with a little nod, pressing chaste kisses along his scarred neck. “Yours, forever.”

His. Forever.

He hopes they all understand who you fucking belong to, now, hopes they’ll keep their grubby hands and grimy gazes off of you, now, but should any of them forget—well, neither of you are necessarily opposed to teaching them this lesson again.

[cuckoobutinmoderation]

Just like Animals

It's my first time posting. Sorry for any mistakes. (In case someone actually reads this)

MINORS BEGONE. DO NOT INTERACT.

Summary: The bed breaks while y'all bang like rabbits lmao

Warnings: None, I think. Let me know in case you think otherwise.

The creaking sound loudened as he thrusted into you at an impossible speed. The poor bed sounded like it was screaming with you. Each animalistic stroke of his cock in your tight little cunt drove you closer to insanity. The bed was going to break any moment now, you were sure of it. But you couldn't care. Not when he was fucking you so hard that you could feel each jolt of pleasure like an electric shock coursing throughout your body. And so, the bed falling remained a hazy thought floating into the back of your mind where it belonged. He was groaning into your ear like an animal feasting on its prey. You were close. So, so close. You could taste it. You could feel it deep in your stomach. Every second, every thrust, you screamed and cried. Writhing under his weight with no relief. No matter how much you shook your head or dug your nails into his back, there was just no relief. You just didn't want him to stop pounding you. No, no, no, you could even entertain that thought. And it must have been the same for him. Because he was shouting at this point. Gripping you so hard that it hurt. It was all too much. Between the sound of the skin slapping against skin, his groans and the bed creaking, you were helpless. You couldn't take it anymore.

With a silent plea followed by a choked yell, you came. Waves and waves of pleasure washed over you. The wrenching, numbing sensation started between your legs and spread everywhere until it consumed all of you. Your mind in a bliss. You were too lost. So much that you didn't hear the bed detach from the headboard. Nor did you feel it fall until it crashed against the floor while your orgasm crashed against you. You almost had one practical moment of shock but there was no time, no. it all felt like a dream. The soft mattress underneath you sprung up softly and absorbed all the shock. It threw you upwards gently and sank you back in like you were laying upon fluffy clouds. You felt as if you really were. It was heaven. Your legs were shaking and locking and unlocking around him as if they had a mind of their own and he was still riding you through the orgasm.

You felt sensative. Oversimulated beyond your capacity. You weakly pressed a hand against his chest but you had no energy. He didn't stop. He kept fucking you. Thrusting over and over and over until you were filled up to the brim with his load. Rope after rope, it shot into you. It oozed out of you and spilled all over the sheets, painting your walls white. He let out a loud groan and collapsed into you with all his weight. Loudly beating hearts, breathless pants and gasps for air was all you could hear until the outside sounds began to register. Slowly the voice down the floor of your apartment grew louder and clearer. It sounded like your downstair neighbours weren't too happy.

"Are you people or animals? Keep it the hell down!" the middle aged woman cried at the top of her lungs, "No shame at all!"

You couldn't help as you giggled into his chest.

[tired-teacher-blog]

Your game or mine

Characters : Shigaraki Tomura/ Fem reader

Warnings and Genre : NSFW/ 18+/ Breast Play (reader is having fun with Shiggy's tiddies)/ Dry Humping/ Mating Press/ Cream Pie/ Squirting/ A Hint Of Fluff/ One Shot

Notes : This is your fault @fictionfordays 🤤

Banner by @/cafekitsune

Masterlist|Second Masterlist

_ "Cut it out already, can't you see I'm a little busy at the moment?" and he wasn't even looking up from his phone as he groaned his displeasure with your advances.

_ "But I'm bored! And you've been playing that stupid game for hours now." your whines were falling on deaf ears as he ignored you completely to get back to the mission ahead.

You sat up, crossing your arms over your chest and pouting in disapproval, how could he possibly focus on anything else after you've put in the effort to look irresistible to him? Was he truly unaware of your intentions? Even after crawling on top of him in a new sexy lingerie set that hugged your luscious body perfectly? Or did the phone glued to his face absorb the last few brain cells he had left?

No matter the reason, you've never been one to give in easily, and so..

_ "Alright do as you wish sweetheart, play your game, and I'll play mine." the smirk lacing your words was invisible to him, and the mindless "uh-huh" spilling from his lips, proved that he wasn't even listening.

You studied his sprawled out frame once more; comfortably sinking into the plush mattress underneath himself while crumpling the soft bedsheets with each little move he made.

Your eyes lingered on his bare flexing pecs, pale skin covering the protruding muscles beneath, and pink perky nipples begging to be touched.

You bit back a threatening moan as your gaze traveled down to his yet meek bulge, knowing all too well that one small caress would be enough to bring it to life.

However, he was clearly playing hard to get, so why not see how long he could resist?

You positioned yourself on his soft cock, neglecting the flimsy fabric of both undergarments separating you, and relishing the sudden flinch escaping him when you slowly rolled your hips.

_ "Y.. you're going to make me lose." his resolve was clearly faltering against your approaches, but his eyes were still fixed on the video game ahead.

_ "Oh I'm sorry love, I'll be more careful." you feigned innocence as soft giggles escaped your throat, placing your palms flat on his firm abdomen and trailing them up until you reached his chiseled bust.

You licked your lips and clutched onto the bulging muscles, giving him one teasing squeeze before relaxing your hold again.

Nothing yet, except for a suspicious tremble appearing under your fingertips. It was undeniably working.

You ran a finger along the deep valley of his chest, rolling your hips slowly on his awakening cock and smirking victoriously as he failed to conceal a frustrated groan.

_ "If I lose.. damnit.. I'll make you pay." he hissed gloomily, fingers still tapping away on his phone's screen while his body was getting more and more restless underneath you.

Any other person would be terrified hearing the symbol of fear rasping those words, but not you.

_ "We'll see about that Tenko." yes, definitely not you.

Your hands groped his godly breasts once more, kneading his flesh greedily before leaning in to lick a perfect stripe leading to his quivering throat where you sucked a bright mark.

_ "Fuck.." the word vibrated under your lips as it left him, and you were uncertain if it was due to your actions or the mobile game he was invested in. Regardless, you were having loads of fun on your own.

Your wet kisses traveled downward to join your hands and cover every inch of delicious skin encountered, you were eager –starved even– as your warm tongue sneaked out to flick on his cherry blossom pink teats.

Your hips moved a little faster on top of him, and your giggles resonated across the dimly lit room when he shallowly met your thrusts.

_ "Seems like I'm winning." you slurred between soft nibbles on his plumpness, peering under your lashes to witness the whitening knuckles as he gripped the device tighter.

He was fully erect by then, you could tell –you can always tell– and it was only a matter of moments for him to drop the pathetic charade and give you the attention you so much craved.

Your warm greedy maw engulfed one of his nipples, sucking on the hard nub like a thirsty little kitten while your fingers played with the other; flicking, pinching, ranking your nails over the prickled skin until he no longer could keep his aloofness.

You weren't done though, disregarding the hand leaving his phone to grip your hair as you switched your teasing mouth to the other teat. But all of a sudden, an alarming sound flared up to replace the rhythmic tunes of the game and announce your man's failed mission to clear the level..

_ "Alright, that's it!" was all he snarled out before placing the gadget onto the bedside table and grabbing your hips roughly to roll you on your back and hover over your stunned frame.

You blinked in pure confusion, striving to wrap your head around the swift change of your positions as his looming figure sent shivers down your spine.

_ "I warned you didn't I?" he did, and it was time for you to receive a proper punishment.

He gripped the back of your knees and spread your legs apart, his crimson irises blazed with fervent emotions that you could not pinpoint, while yours shamelessly ogled the conspicuous damp spot on his boxer briefs, wondering if it was your creation or his, and maybe –just maybe– it was a little bit of both.

You gripped the rumpled bedsheets and braced yourself for what was coming as he hastily tucked your legs up and pressed them to your reddening ears, "that's better.." he chuckled darkly before lowering his underwear just enough for his rock hard shaft to spring back against his abdomen, a heavenly sight that forced your cunt to squeeze around nothing.

Your longing for him was clear as day, and his gleaming eyes held an intense desire as he glanced at you once more while pushing your panties to the side, before smearing the leaking head over your sensitive folds and finally easing himself into your welcoming heat.

Your eyes rolled back in absolute ecstasy, and his name left your lips in a broken murmur as he stretched you perfectly around him.

He gave you no chance to adjust, retrieving his length until only the tip was sheathed within you, before slamming his hips mercilessly against your own.

His pace was unforgiving from the get go, grazing your insides deliciously with every deep thrust he delivered.

_ "Eyes on me angel, show me that beautiful face of yours, come on." he demanded huskily, tightening his grip on your legs and pushing them further against your chest.

His strikes were deeper and harsher from that position, filling your senses with a pleasurable pain you so much adored.

You weren't going to last much longer and neither was he, your earlier teasing and playful behavior had lead you both closer to a certain release, "Tenko, don't stop!" and he didn't, pounding even harder into your core while chanting your name like a mantra.

Your heart hammered in your chest and a thrilling heat pooled in the pit of your belly as he pushed you roughly into the mattress, his bruising clutches and erratic hips announcing his own imminent orgasm.

_ "I'm cumming! I'm cumming! Tenko please!" you tensed up beneath him as you mewled a warning, bracing yourself for the inevitable shockwaves of pleasure that washed over you only a moment afterwards, and whimpering unintelligibly as you spasmed violently and gushed all over yourself and him, soaking the two of you in a clear warm spurt before going limp underneath his persistent thrusts.

_ "Amazing.." his eyes traveled between your spent body and the mess between yourselves, clenching his jaw and panting breathlessly while the obscene sloshing noises intensified as he ground on you, "fuck! I'm cumming too!"

You shakily grabbed on to his veiny arms and dug your nails into his pale skin, wordlessly pleading with him not to pull out before spilling every last drop inside of you, and thanking the heavens when he ultimately understood.

_ "I got it beautiful.. fuck.. I got it." a strained smirk appeared on his lips as he replied, sinking into your slippery cunt and kissing your cervix with every brutal snap of his hips, once.. twice.. thrice.. and then a final lunge before exuding his thick pearly load and coating your clenching gummy walls.

He finally pulled out of you, placing your tingly legs onto the stained bedsheets, and collapsing on top of you with a satisfied heave leaving his chest.

_ "We made a mess Tenko." your tired laughter stabbed at every fiber of your pained figure, but you were blissed out; being entangled with him while sharing a few joyful instances, forgetting everything outside of your room and pretending to be in a typical relationship with a typical man— even for a little while.. it was your own paradise.

_ "This was courtesy of you angel, and we'll have to do that again soon." a soft chuckle was lacing the muffled words tickling your shoulder, and a pair of eager lips trailed gentle kisses along your skin before nuzzling the curve of your neck.

Yes, your own paradise..