#tomura shigaraki x y/n

[dawn-moths]

Tomura x Reader

word count: 800+

(You try and convince Tomura to take a break from his games and come to bed at a reasonable time for once.)

disclaimer/content warning: no warnings apply! sfw, soft tomura, maybe quirkless au?? i don’t really know, i just love and miss him a lot and wanna take care of him.

***

It’s late— nearly two AM— and the glow of the moon trying to creep in through the gaps of the curtains competes with the glow emanating from the trio of computer screens currently in use in the other corner of the room.

“Tomu…” you murmur, half a groan and half a whine, as you turn over beneath the covers. “Come to bed…”

It’s so warm here, your body heat seeping through the sheets, the oversized t-shirt you’re wearing— one of his shirts, the soft black cotton displaying the fading decal of some game he used to like— clinging to your drowsy form like a veil of comfort and familiarity.

If you buried your nose in the collar, it still smelled faintly like him, despite you basically having claimed it for your own a few weeks back.

From across the room, Tomura sits before his three monitor display, the soft light from the screens shifting the colors cast across his face in a fast-paced rainbow, reds and blues and greens illuminating the pale waves of his hair.

It’s almost to his shoulders again. You’ll have to convince him to let you give it a trim soon.

“Tomuraaaaaa…” you whine a little louder, drawing his attention that time as he shifts his headset so only one ear is covered.

“Ok, just one more round,” he replies, something almost apologetic in his tone, no more irked grumbling or sarcastic attitude present like he used to respond to such a request in the past.

You basically had to drag him away from the computer, once upon a time. If you didn’t, he’d be playing right up until the sun was about to rise.

You rolled over onto your other side, facing away from the glow of the screens, letting your eyes fall closed once more, the constant mashing of buttons clicking softly to fill the otherwise silent room.

Whatever game he’s decided to log into tonight, the rounds are long. After ten minutes he’s still playing, one or two curses hissed out under his breath when his character takes a hit or someone else on his team messes up.

You turn again, squinting your eyes as they adjust to the light. Once the room becomes clear, you can see just how focused Tomura is. Like he’s locked in. Like he’s entranced. The way his fingers fly across every button and joystick of the controller like its second nature to him.

But it’s been nearly twenty minutes.

Enough is enough.

You sigh and rise from the warm comfort of the bed, padding over with bare feet to where he sits in his big gaming chair— a birthday present you’d surprised him with last year. He glances over at you for a split second, trying to conceal the slight guilt that pangs inside him.

“Make room…” you say, and he obliges, pushing back a bit from the desk so you can curl up against him, sharing your sated warmth with him in hopes of coaxing him to bed.

“Swear I’m almost done,” he says, shifting a bit to allow you to get comfortable, pressing your chest to his, legs straddling his waist, arms draped loosely around him as your head rests against his shoulder.

You can just barely hear the up-beat battle music muffled through his headset, the looping audio somehow making you even more tired despite the high-energy pulse of it.

Before long, you feel yourself dozing off again, that heavy, floating feeling of the moments right before you sink into sleep dripping through you like thick syrup, honey sweet.

Not two minutes after your body had gone slack and heavy against his own, the round ends and Tomura logs out of the game, one hand carefully pressed against your back to hold you in place as he leans slightly forward to place his controller on the desk. He puts his computer to sleep, the screens fading to black.

And now, it seems, it’s time for him to put you to sleep too.

You’re passed out, completely dead to the world, breathing slow and shallow, head beginning to loll as he carefully shifts to splay his big palms under your thighs, carefully lifting you as he stands, carrying you to the bed and placing you back among the rumpled sheets.

Once you’re all tucked in again, Tomura slips out of his jeans and puts on a fresh t-shirt— a habit you worked hard to instill in him, something about not sleeping in your day clothes or wearing your sleep clothes during the day— and then joins you under the covers, snuggling up next to you and gently cradling you in his arms.

He presses a soft kiss to your forehead before allowing his own eyes to fall shut, hoping to meet you somewhere in your dreams.

[nishiyako]

Ganked (NSFW)

Paring : Shigaraki x Sleeping!Reader

Tags : Somnophilia, CNC, Creampie, Fingering, Vaginal Penetration, Sloppy make-outs, Established Relationship, Reader wakes up, Thigh rubs, Aftercare if you squint, Gamer shiggy, Fluffy ending

Summary : After a rough night, Tomura sees you so perfectly vulnerable on his bed. pissed and horny, he gives into his instincts, he's only human.

(Gank - a video game slang that means to kill, defeat, or take advantage of a weaker or unexpecting player)

Tomura slammed down the mouse on top of his mouse pad, instantly regretting his decision when he heard you shift in your sheets. He was afraid you’d wake up, but you were long gone since 9 pm. You looked so comfortable and serene in his bed, wearing the hoodie you stole from him.

He wished he could be the same, playing what felt like the hundredth game of the night.

The screen illuminated his keyboard as he typed a sarcastic “Nice.” In the chat, openly being disappointed in his teammates and their idiocy. The game was beyond repair, and there were no possible ways he could save the match except to call an early forfeit.

He wonders why he keeps coming back to this shit game.

He looked back at the defeat screen, cracking his tense knuckles, thinking if he played another round, everything would work out. Maybe his next team wouldn't be so shortsighted and know how to play the game right.

He minimized the tab as he didn’t even care about seeing the endgame stats, knowing he did all the work. his eyes widen, seeing the time in the corner of his monitor. He sighs in annoyance, knowing he probably should be joining you in bed at this time. Not that he didn’t want to. He just wanted to be able to show you something cool when you woke up.

But he’s played unlucky match after unlucky match. It seems like it's been forever since he actually won a game without carrying the whole thing.

He takes off his head phones, Tomura gets off his gamer chair, cringing at the squeaks it made in his wake, making the headache his teammates give him worse.

His eyes widened once more, seeing the state you were in. you looked perfect.

You were sound asleep, completely defenseless as you kicked the covers off of yourself, your hair spread on the pillow, framing your comfortable expression as his hoodie draped over you, slightly exposing your thighs peeking through and he swore he saw the cute pink fabric in between your legs, so thin it felt like he could rip it off you.

He placed his hand over his nearly drooling mouth, making his hand run through to his jaw before placing it on his nape. He judged the situation, remembering a few weeks ago you did say somnophilia was hot, but would that count as a yes?

If it was, did you plan this? Was this what you wanted? Or if it wasn't, would you forgive him?

He took his chances, already having a shitty night. It's what he deserved. it's what he needed.

He kneeled over you before spreading your legs open and putting his between them, locking them around his waist.

He tested the waters, giving your thighs a gentle rub, making sure he avoided using all five fingers.

As he moves closer to your core, he could see your folds against the thin fabric, his hand slowly creeping towards the silky fiber. He saw as you shifted against the bed, having a slight wince on your face before going back to your peaceful state. Were you awake?

“Hey, angel.” his raspy low voice called out, “You awake right now?” he asked, but he’d be met with no response.

He took a weak sigh before finally slipping your panties to the side, coating his middle and ring finger with his tongue, before slowly slicking it up your folds, rubbing against your clit. He heard a mumble come out of your lips, something like a whine as you shifted your shoulders, and your legs trying to close your thighs yet kept apart by his own.

He wonders what you're feeling right now, what you 're thinking about. Him, he hoped.

Once he started to feel your juices on his palm, he knew you were ready. Dipping both fingers into you as you let out the cutest whine he's ever heard, it brought a smile to his scarred lips, seeing you squirm under him.

He started to sway his fingers inside you, the way he knew you liked it. He saw your eyes stress as your breathing became uneven. He didn’t want you to wake up, but he also wanted to wake you up with the good sex you deserved, looking like such a cute display.

“You can open your eyes, I know you’re awake.” Though he had no proof, he still wanted to act like he still had some morals, though a part of him liked having the thought of you unconscious and defenseless.

“I know you want it.” he swore to himself, knowing he couldn't hold back for long. You 're so much tighter when you’re asleep.

He pulled his fingers out of you, seeing it already covered in slick. It only made his cock throb.

He licked your juices off of his digits, tasting your bitter-sweet allurement on his tongue.

After a few more one-sided debates, he finally undid the tie on his sweatpants, pulling it off and throwing it to the corner of the bed.

Was he really about to do this? He thought to himself, knowing that you were a tease sometimes, especially when he wouldn't give you attention. Was that what you wanted? Attention?

He chuckled at the thought, thinking of the possibility of you just being an attention-whore for him, so adorable.

He finally positioned against you, just his swollen tip inside your heat.

Slowly pushed in, making you feel fuller every inch that enters. He curses under his breath, feeling you take him so nicely.

He lifted your hips at an angle to enter you carefully. He saw you, eyes closed and mouth agape and started coming to your senses.

Your eyes flickered open to see your beloved boyfriend, balls deep inside you. You thought you were dreaming, thinking it was just another perverted dream you were having at first until he started moving, a slow thrust giving your cervix a kiss with the head of his cock, your eyes roll to the back of your head realizing you weren't dreaming.

“Morning babe” he said with a sadistic grin seeing you so sensitive from a single thrust, “Sorry for waking you up” his faux apology made your ears ring as you started seeing white, already with him ruthlessly thrusting into you while he saw you crumble under him, no chance to adjust or pry him off of you (not like you wanted to) as he crouched down, capturing your lips in a lazy kiss.

You taste the sugary energy drinks, but you also taste something bitter on his tongue. It makes your mind race. What else did he do to you while you were asleep?

It was wrong. You know you shouldn’t be encouraging this, but you couldn’t get enough of getting stuffed while you’re half awake. Especially with his smirking lips against yours, his tongue forcing itself down your throat.

his cock slips out halfway, covered in slick, so much that it drips between your thighs.

Your thighs are sticky, and your eyes squeeze at the feeling, completely ruining your panties. He shoves back in roughly, making you jolt.

He backs from the kiss, hearing your uneven breaths as you cling onto him, hugging around his neck as he continues to rut into you.

He wasn't sure if it was the fact that you were tired and sensitive or you were really turned on, but he was living for this reaction. Clinging onto him, trying to suppress your moans to not wake up any of the rest of the league in the base, especially in the middle of the night.

His attention drew to your face. Shigaraki couldn’t form any teasing remarks, seeing you so cock drunk and groggy really made his evening.

He didn't know how long he'd last seeing you like this. He felt helpless when it came to you. You were out of his league, and he knew that, yet here he is, helping himself to a quick use of your hole.

Your foreheads pressed together, moaning against his lips as he watched how your warm body moved up and down the sheets every time he thrusted into you. tempered by the groggy atmosphere, it made everything better and a bit sloppy, not like he minded.

Your legs tensed, feeling him hit your sweet spot over and over again, so painfully good it had you seeing stars every time he rutted against you.

The sudden ego boost getting to his head watching you writhe on his cock, your hands pawing at his soft hair, giving the occasional tug.

Your back arched, his face buried in the crook of your neck, working on a few love bites and hickeys to see in the morning.

Your desperate mewls could only mean one thing, you were close. You wrapped your legs around his waist, clinging onto him so desperately.

“Tomura, I’m close-” you whispered in his ear, trying to make as little noise as possible. “Y-yeah, me too.” he responded in a shaky voice. His thrusts became more clumsy as you tightened when you heard his voice.

“You want it inside, don't you?” he teased. He saw you nod, meeting his gaze with your desperate doe eyes

He chuckled to himself before holding you a bit closer, forcing you to open your legs a bit more before a few more thrusts. You felt his warm milky seed fill inside you, painting your insides before it leaked out of you, staining the sheets.

He gave your thighs a rub before placing a soft kiss on your lips, slowly pulling out and watching it drip out of your abused hole.

It wasn't long before he dried you off, brought you new panties, and snuggled up with you.

He held you in your half-awake state, rubbing the small of your back, sneaking his hands under the hoodie you’re wearing.

“You aren't mad at me, are you?” he asked in a sheepish tone. He started thinking of ways to justify himself and his actions until you spoke in a croaky, sleepy tone. “Why would I be?” you asked, a giggle escaping your lips.

“I had fun, Tomura. thank you.” you said softly before giving him a smile and a soft kiss to match.

Though he still felt guilty taking advantage of you being in such a vulnerable state, he still smiled seeing you so satisfied at the end of the day.

[anime-addict-362]

Better Than a Street Whore

CW: NSFW, Shigaraki x Y/N, bottom Shigaraki, he threatens to kill Y/N a lot, begging, overstimulation, lots of kissing, half-assed written aftercare, Y/N switches between degrading his dick and prasing him for being good, I wrote this within 2 hours, forgive me, it was out of boredom promise

× × × × × ×

Shigaraki stood in front of Y/N. Why did she need to be there? She was hired by All For One, but she didn't do anything. Just sat around on her phone all day.

Despite her lack of work, All For One demanded she be there, and he was not allowed to kill her. Damnit.

"Can you leave," He asked, annoyed with the sound of her nails clacking on her phone screen.

"Nah," Y/N didn't even look at him, still typing. "Big man wants me here. I gotta be here."

"Why," Shigaraki scoffed.

"I dunno," She shrugged. "Ask him, he's your master or whatever."

"I-"

"And what is up with that," Y/N rolled her eyes. "Master used outside of the bathroom? Weird."

He blinked. What was she talking about? What did she mean, outside of the bedroom?

"Don't tell me you're confused," She finally looked up from her phone, to look at him amused. "Not bitch boy being a virgin."

Not allowed to kill her. He was allowed to hurt her.

She dodged the glass that flew towards her head with a yelp, and she grabbed her phone before she could drop it.

"I'm not a virgin," He yelled over the glsss shattering.

"Jesus," She mumbled. "It was just a goddamn joke. The fuck is wrong with you?"

"Real fucking funny," He rolled his eyes.

"So," She asked, standing up fully. "Who'd you lose your virginity to?"

His eyes widened. "None of your goddamn business!"

He wanted to dust her when she approached, but no, he wasn't allowed to.

"I bet you used that nomu," She pouted, ignoring his rage filled look. "You needed to feel in control for once so you took something you could order around with no consequence."

"I- I absolutely-"

"Or," She smirked, running a hand on his tense stomach. "You had it fuck you until you couldn't breath, just to get out of your mind for a bit. I could only imagine the cock one those things-"

Shigaraki smacked her hands when she started estimating the... girth of a potential nomu penis. "They don't even have a penis!"

"Oh," Y/N looked to him. "Still big fingers. One is around the size over a bigger than average human dick. I get you could take multiple though-"

"I'm going to murder you," She yelped with a laugh as he reached for her, and she ran.

"No killing me," She squealed as he threw her on the couch. "It's not allowed! Your master wouldn't like it!"

He groaned. Of course he told her about the rule. "Just- Leave. Get out."

"I can't," She shrugged, relaxing back. "Not for a few weeks."

He walked away, but like a fucking dog, she followed with a giggle. "So? Did you fuck the nomus?"

"No," He yelled.

"You can tell me," She pouted. "I'll share one of my fucked up sex stories if you tell me yours."

"No," He scoffed.

"Virgin," She accused.

"Shut up," He grabbed another cup but she was taking it from him before he could chuck it at her.

"Are you a virgin," This time, her tone of genuine. "No laughing, promise."

He blinked, confused on why she cared... Fuck it. Maybe it'll get her to back off.

"No," He answered honestly. "And it wasn't a nomu, you sick freak."

She shrugged. "So who was it?"

Shigaraki moved uncomfortably, shrugging. "I don't remember her name. Just a hook up from awhile ago."

"So it didn't mean anything," She looked judgey. "Have you had any meaningful sex?"

He scoffed. "I lead a very large group of murderous villains. What makes you think I have time for feelings?"

She shrugged, and he jumped at her grabbing his hand. She held it up by the palm, then traced his fingers once she turn it upright.

"Are you trying to kill yourself," He mumbled, watching her fingers trace his calloused hand.

"This is not nearly a suicide attempt," She chuckled. "How do you have sex with absolutely no feeling behind it? I never understood the hype around that."

He gulped as her hand continued up his arm. "I- I don't know. It's just how it is."

She hummed, a hand going to his chest. "You're not pushing me away."

She was right. He wasn't.

"I don't have meaningful sex," He tried to tell her, both of her hands now on him. "I don't let feelings get involved."

"That's not exactly what meaningful sex means," She mumbled, pulling his shirt up suddenly. "At least not to me."

He helped pull the shirt off. God, it was hot in there. She shoved him against the bar, hands holding his waist. He was awfully skinny, so she grabbed quite a bit of him just like that.

"I'm going to make you feel so good," She whispered, going to his neck. "Gonna let me? Let me make you feel amazing."

He huffed, staring at her body, that was pressed up against his. He gasped at the bite on his neck. "Fuck- Yes. Yes Y/N."

She grinned, bringing a hand up to wrap in his hair. She held him in place while she kissed him, roughly. He groaned, gripping the counter behind him.

"You're hot," She grinned, hands swiping over his ribs. "Lead me to your room."

Was he really about to do this? Was he really about to have sex with a woman he finds insanely annoying?

He didn't need to answer that, because the way he pulled her to his bedroom was answer enough.

Y/N pulled him back into a rough kiss the second the door was closed, pushing him against it.

"Now, listen up," She grabbed his face, holding it in place so he stayed looking at her. "I want you touching me, so go put on those silly gloves you have."

Shigaraki huffed, but listened. He moved to his nightstand and grabbed them, slipping them on easily. Once on, Y/N was back in him, kissing him, hands wandering.

He leaned down after a few moments, and picked her up to wrap her legs around his waist. "Okay?"

"Yeah, it's okay," Y/N confirmed with a small smile. She removed her arms around him to pull her shirt off... God, he better not drop her. She would be pissed.

In his defense, he seemed to be somewhat strong. At least enough to hold her.

Once the shirt was off, she proceeded to kiss down his neck. "Lay down on the bed, Shigaraki. Sit me right on you."

Shigaraki wasn't sure he had it in him to refuse. Not with the way her sweet voice sounded, so close to his ear, the way her hand tangled in his hair, the other running down his chest again.

So he sat on the bed, making sure Y/N's legs weren't trapped under him before he laid back. He didn't even think over how good Y/N would look straddling him.

Y/N smiled when she noticed Shigaraki's eyes wandering. "Like what you see?"

"It's decent," Shigaraki huffed.

Y/N pouted at that. "We both know that's a lie. I can tell by the way your face is already burning, you think much different."

Shigaraki gulped, looking up to Y/N. "I don't-"

"I also feel your hard on," Y/N chuckled, putting her hands on either side of his head. "Why not just tell me how you feel? You might get something in return."

He stared at her. "Like?"

"You're a smart man, Shigaraki. Look at our position and take a guess about what I'll do to you," She chuckled. "So? Go on."

He looked her in the eye. "You're fucking infuriating."

"Ouch," She put a hand on her heart. "Keep going."

"You're... attractive, I guess," He cleared his throat, refusing to let his voice crack right now.

"Attractive? Care to elaborate?"

God fuck, this woman.

"I hate you," He groaned, feeling a hand move to the waistband of his pants.

"I'll leave you all hard if you don't start doing what I ask," Y/N's voice was lower now, as if she wss threatening him.

He didn't care though. He could get himself off. He didn't need Y/N to make him come, even if he would probably regret it later... What would Y/N do?

Would she suck him off? Or would they just start having sex? He would enjoy either way but-

He gasped at the hand that grabbed his face, forcing him to look to Y/N. "I'm sitting right here, about to give you the best orgasm of your pathetic life and you're ignoring me?"

"No- I wasn't ignoring you," He went onto explain. But it was hard to explain the way his thoughts got caught up. It didn't matter though, because he remembered what she wanted.

"You're so hot," He huffed, grabbing the wrist of the hand that still held his face. "You're... Pretty too."

Y/N knew the word "pretty" wasn't ever in his vocabulary, but it did sound good coming out of his mouth, in that shaky voice.

"Pretty huh," She grinned, kissing him and finally letting go of his face. "You're pretty yourself, handsome."

He gulped at the compliment. He wasn't sure he liked the compliment, it sounded unrealistic. Him? Pretty? Handsome?

He wasn't given a lot of time to think it over, not with Y/N moving between his legs and pulling his sweatpants snd boxers off in one swipe.

"Y/N," He huffed, feeling her kiss the inside of his thighs. Why was she so bold? Why was she so close?

She kept kissing him, feeling his breathing picking up the closer she got to his dick. She really wanted to see him come, and she wanted it to be the best he's ever had.

Not that would be that hard. She's not the most experienced person in the world but compared to some random woman on the street? Odds are she was way better.

After a few moments, she reached down to her shirt pocket. Sweet, she still had a few condoms left.

"You know, I do think you're very attractive," Y/N spoke up, opening the condom. "I'm sure a lot of the fucked up women on the street want to have some fun with you. Probably even some men."

Shigaraki huffed. What do you say in response to that? Thanks?

"That being said, I think you're a little of a whore and always accept when someone asks to fuck you," Y/N's words made him tense.

"I am not-"

"What I'm getting at," Y/N interrupted him. "Is that I have a hard time believing you don't have some sort of STI. God knows what the people around here have. Especially Dabi."

Shigaraki scoffed. "I don't have an STI."

"Yeah? And who tested you, and when," Y/N raided an eyebrow. "I'm already lowering my standards to give you a decent orgasm, one better than those street sluts can give you, don't get picky now."

Shigaraki gulped as she slid the condom on him. "So what? You think I have a STI and you're still going to have sex with me?"

Y/N grinned. "Oh I'm not fucking you until you get tested. I'm just gonna get you off, and you're gonna get me off. But I'm sure I'll have to teach you, I doubt you know how to properly please a woman."

He glared at her. "Why are you suddenly being a bitch?"

She raised an eyebrow. "So you do know how to make a woman come? And you know, not one of those fake ones. I promise, I won't fake it."

He didn't even know what to say. What do you say to anything she's saying? She was nuts!

He groaned when her hand grabbed his dick, which was now completely covered by the condom. "If you're not gonna fuck me, what's with the condom?"

"You don't have running water here," Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Your dick is probably gross. Again, you seem like a great fuck, but I'm lowering my standards for you. They are practically rock bottom right now."

Shigaraki glared at her harder. "I could kill you at any moment."

"You're right," She smiled softly, starting to jack him off at a gentle pace. "You could. But you're not going to. You like me calling you gross. You're practically whimpering just because my hand is wrapped around your filthy cock. It twitches whenever I insult you. You fucking love this, being under me, just taking my insults."

Shigaraki groaned when she squeezed his cock suddenly, and very hard. He felt like he was close, all her dumb (and very untrue...) words were getting to him.

"Y/N," He gasped, trying to get her hand off of him.

"Beg," She grinned wildly. "Beg me to make you come, tell me how much you love me degrading your filthy cock. Do it."

He whimpered, grabbing her wrist. God, her grip was fucking tough.

"Please," He whispered.

"Hm?"

"Please," He yelled out, holding her arm. "Fuck- Please Y/N, make me come. Degrade me, do whatever, just please, make me come."

...he was pathetic. What was wrong with him?

Y/N hummed, loosening her hand. "Keep going."

"Fuck," He breathed out at the relief. "Please Y/N, god fuck, I need it. I'm so close, please."

He might kill himself later, honestly.

She chuckled, and moved her hand, just enough to get him to come. "I've heard better. But I guess I can't expect too much from you."

Shigaraki moaned, stomach tensing. "Y/N- Oh god."

"C'mon," Y/N grinned, hand moving quicker. "You can come, Tomura. You're doing so good, keep going."

Her suddenly, sickeningly sweet words made his heart tighten, and he eyes roll back. "Fuck- Y/N- please."

She leaned forward and kissed him. He moaned in her mouth, a hand going up to her back. He needed something to hold.

Y/N hissed as his free fingers caught on her skin, but just moved her hand quicker. And it worked, because he was moaning aloud again, as he came, filling the condom.

He whimpered when her hand didn't stop, and moved the hand on her back to her hip to grab more. "Y/N, please, I came already."

"It wasn't good enough," Y/N kissed just under his ear. "I wanna see you crying. I wanna hear you yell my name, I need you begging me to stop because you can't handle how good it feels."

Shigaraki let out a sob, her hand not letting up the quick pace at all. "Y/N- Its too much, please."

"You're doing so good," She whispered, and kissed his jaw. "You're taking it so good, you're being so good for me. You can take another one, I know you can."

He nodded slowly, barely aware of the fact he was drooling. He laid his head back as she kissed him. She was so sweet now. What changed? Did he do something to make her want to be nice all of the sudden?

"Y/N," He moaned quietly against her lips. "Please- I don't think I can-"

"You can," She whispered again, sending a weird feeling through Shigaraki. "You're doing so good already. I know you can be even better."

He felt another sob rip through his chest. "Be mean again- Stop."

She hummed, kissing him. "Why would I be mean when you're being such a good boy? You deserve to be treated nicely after listening,to me so well."

He moaned as her hand twisted around the head of his cock, spreading the come throughout the condom. "I'm- I'm close again- Y/N, god."

"Good boy," She hummed. "C'mon, be a good boy and come for me."

He sobbed and he felt his orgasm build up again. It was a lot, almost overwhelming. "It's- I'm coming- Y/N," He moaned shakily as he came, feeling tears fall as her hand helped him through it.

"Good job," She whispered, stopping her hand. "Such a good job."

He took a deep breath, but it only came out uneven and shaky. He yelped when her hand tightened and moved down the length of his cock slowly.

"Y/N, please," He sobbed, hands shaking, and hips pulling away.

She laughed, pulling her hand away. "Now tell me... Was that better or worse compared to those street whores?"

"Better," He sobbed again, her legs just barely brushing up again his cock. "So much better- Fuck!"

She couldn't stop grinning. But she decided to have some mercy, and stop touching his dick until he calmed down. For now, she just held him, arms wrapping around him.

She sighed at the sob and his arms wrapping around her back, tears wetting her shoulder. "You did such a good job, Tomura. Go ahead and rest."

Why was he still crying? It was done, they were done. But her consistent praise wasn't helping.

"Take a deep breath, Tomura. You did so good, you're done," She kissed his neck. "C'mon, take a deep breath now."

He was way past the point of feeling silly, so he just listened to her, taking a deep breath. He noticed something wet on his hand so he looked to where it restrd on Y/N back.

"I'm sorry," He breathed out, noticing he definitely made her bleed with scratches... It was hard to go out and get nail clippers, okay? Fuck off.

Y/N found the apology comical. He threatened to kill her multiple times and now he was apologizing for a scratch. She made the decision to lot laugh though.

"It's okay," She smiled softly, kissing his cheek. "I'm gonna clean you up, okay?"

He shook his head. "No- I need to make you-"

"It's okay, Tomura," She sat up, out of his arms. "It's alright. You're tired, you need to rest. And I'm going to clean you up."

He nodded, wiping the tears from his face.

It took a few minutes for the embarrassment to set in. It seemed the moment Y/N was cleaning his come covered dick was the moment he lost his humanity, and was officially a disgrace of a villain.

"Oh stop," Y/N scoffed as he tried to pull away. "So dramatic, its just your own dick."

He huffed, face red. "I'm good- Please leave."

"Uh huh," She finally stopped, throwing the towel next to the bed. "Get your eyes off my tits, perv."

"Put your shirt back on," He argued back.

She shrugged, and grabbed her shirt. "I'll be downstairs," He watched her get up and walk out his bedroom. "You owe me an orgasm!"

[holyklover]

Shigaraki tbh

[shig-a-shig-ah]

everything i’ve ever let go of has claw marks on it

Before the League of Villains, Tomura took you. Before the final war, he let you go. Still, moving on proves difficult for you both.

» pairing: Shigaraki Tomura x afab!reader » word count: 4.2 » notes: Idk what this is, really. Divorce Ghuleh was in some kind of mood. » contains: gn!pronouns, post-canon, angst, exes (kinda), unrequited love (kinda), soft Shigaraki, ostensibly yandere Shigaraki, referenced kidnapping, oral sex (f!receiving). 18+, minors DNI. » ao3 mirror

"You got a new place."

Anyone else might be alarmed by that casual interjection when you were, until a moment ago, alone in your apartment, no company save for the pile of moving boxes beside you and no sound except the patter of rain against the roof. But you? You don't so much as flinch at the sudden appearance of that raspy voice. You only continue placing books neatly on the shelf before you as you reply, "And you found it."

"I always do, don't I?"

There's a shrug in Tomura's voice, the words spoken as a simple matter of course. It's followed by footsteps reverberating across the hardwood, and even without turning around you can picture the scene perfectly in your mind: him pacing behind you, head cocked and hands shoved lazily in his pockets as he surveys your fourth apartment in fifteen months.

"Why'd you move?" His question is followed by the telltale creak of a cabinet opening. "I thought you liked your last place."

"I did, but they raised the rent."

The cabinet, empty, thuds shut. There's a weight to the brief silence that follows, and when it's broken it's by the drag of fingernails raking over papery skin. Then, "You know you don't have to worry about that."

It's true, and it isn't. You could afford any place you wanted with the money Tomura insists on putting in your name—money that you refuse to touch. On principle, you tell yourself, though you often wonder the difference between that and spite.

You don't argue, though. Only deflect. "It wasn't worth what they were asking. And I like this place, too."

You're not lying. The unit is smaller, admittedly, and further from the city center, or what passes for one these days when so much is still in ruin. But it's also quiet. Quaint. There's a picture window that looks out over the shared courtyard, and rows of built-ins lining the walls. More built-ins than you could possibly need, really, for the meager possessions you've accumulated over the last year and some, but you tell yourself that's a good thing. That you'll grow into the space in a way you never managed at your last apartments.

Not that this is a promising start.

You wipe your dusty hands on your jeans and finally stand, sighing as you turn to face Tomura. "You said you were going to stop coming by like this."

He looks as you'd expected, on first glance—loose black clothes and slouched posture, carmine eyes watchful behind the spill of white hair that hangs longer every time you see him. But you also catch the subtle shift your words bring—the brief press of his mouth into a tight line, the quick drop of his gaze.

There's a long silence as you stare at him and he stares at the floor.

When he starts pacing again, the echo of his footsteps hangs heavier this time.

"It's hard," he says, chewing at his cheek. "Everyone else has moved on. Toga has her girlfriend, Dabi's with his family. Spinner's turned the Liberation Front into some heteromorph rights movement, if you can believe it." He lets out an incredulous laugh, as though he can't. "Even Kurogiri is busy. Figuring out his old friends, his old life."

"Kurogiri left?" You try to force aside the unwanted tightness that revelation spurs in your chest. "I thought he'd stay with you."

"He offered. Would have if I'd asked, but it's not like I need him. I'm just..."

"Lonely?"

"No." And then, with mirthless huff, "Maybe."

That admission hangs in the air longer than you intend to let it—long enough for your memory to take you back to places you'd rather not be. To waking, years ago, in a strange bedroom in a strange apartment. To long night after long night with Tomura curled against your side and your own mind refusing sleep, preoccupied as it was with the question of why.

The answer, it turned out, was deceptively simple.

There's a pile of takeout menus on your coffee table—ones that were waiting in your mailbox when you moved in. You sigh as you reach for them, already knowing he'll stay for dinner if you offer.

And already knowing you'll offer.

"Well," you say, not missing how Tomura's eyes darken guiltily at the trace bitterness you can't quite keep from your voice, "it's not like it would be the first time."

"You go out now."

Tomura's words have you pausing with a piece of katsu lifted halfway to your mouth. The two of you have been silent the last ten minutes; were mostly silent before that, too, as you waited out the vast-seeming span of time between the placing of your takeout order and the reprieve of the delivery person's arrival. But now he's looking at you from behind his hair as he scoops up threads of soba.

You finish taking your bite. Swallow. "What?"

"I came by your old place a few days ago and you weren't there." He says it reluctantly, like he's ashamed despite the current circumstance. "Last month, too. That never used to happen."

Of course it didn't: you barely left your old apartments in the weeks and months after Tomura let you go, though you've been trying to remedy that as of late. Two years sequestered from normal life left you overwhelmed in public, oddly claustrophobic any time you found yourself in a crowd. And even once that tendency towards panic abated, there was hardly anywhere to go outside of earning your meager living. No family to miss you, and certainly no friends to reconnect with. Much like Tomura now, everyone you knew seemed to have moved on.

Not that you hadn't, because whoever you were before Tomura, it's not who you were after. And you know the same is true of him—that he's not the person he was when he took you. An incontrovertible truth, if only because you're sitting here. Free.

More or less, anyway.

You take another bite of katsu. Chew carefully before saying, "I was on a date, actually."

The way Tomura stiffens slightly at your answer sparks a vindictive stab of satisfaction in you. It only grows when he asks, with forced casualness, "What kind of date?"

"A first date."

A good date, too, by objective standards. One where your suitor did all the right things, and where that effort seemed genuine. They didn't even try to come up at the end of the night—only kissed you on the cheek and said they would call.

"Is there—" Tomura wavers, for a moment. Lifts one hand towards his neck only to drop it just as quickly, and then slurps down a hasty spoonful of broth instead. When he swallows, it's harder than seems necessary. "Is there going to be a second one?"

You think again about the end of that latest attempt at romantic connection. About the blank indifference you felt as your date stood there smiling, and about the memory of crimson eyes that haunted you in that moment, the same way it had in the few attempts before. About the voicemail your suitor left the next day. The one that still sits on your phone, unplayed.

Whatever petty satisfaction you felt a moment ago slips away.

"No," you say flatly before lapsing back into silence.

There never is.

"Do you ever regret it?"

It's a question that again comes after lengthy quiet, though this time you're the one to speak first. Dinner is long over, takeout containers and disposable chopsticks left in a pile on your scuffed kitchen table, and you've spent the last couple hours in silence on your sofa. You're in one corner and Tomura's in the other, his foot propped up on a couple moving boxes as a sitcom neither of you are really watching plays out on screen. He frowns at the abrupt inquiry.

"The war?"

It's telling, you think, that that's the first place his mind goes. To that final confrontation with the heroes, and a battle he'd more or less won. But it's not what you meant.

"Letting me go." After a moment's consideration, you add, "Or taking me in the first place."

That question has festered in the back of your mind since the day Tomura chose power over the dwindling comfort of your presence, and you couldn't say why you ask it now. Couldn't say, either, why it was left unspoken for so long, save that some discomfort always stopped you. A fear, you suppose, that whatever response he gave would reveal as much about you as him. That you'd realize too late there was some specific answer you wanted.

Even now, your eyes stay fixed uneasily on the television as you await a response that takes several long moments to come. In the interim the quiet is filled with nothing but grating laugh tracks and the telltale rustle of nails scraping over Tomura's throat. You wonder when he resumed that anxious tick. Wonder, too, how bad it's gotten. If you brushed back those tangled locks, would you find mere reddened skin, or deep scores?

You distract yourself with that wondering, and eventually Tomura gives his answer.

"Sometimes," he admits.

"Sometimes for which one?"

The subsequent silence is longer this time. Then the sound of scratching abates, and from the corner of your eye you see his hand drop.

He leans forward for the television remote. Turns the volume up a couple notches.

"Both."

"Are you asleep?"

"No."

Tomura's answer is the one you expected. You've spent the last who-knows-how-long doing nothing more than staring at the dim black of the ceiling above your bed and somehow, despite the dark and the polite distance left between you, you knew he was doing the exact same thing.

He doesn't stay over, usually. Doesn't come by that often at all, truth be told, though every time he does it feels like an inevitability. Like there could never be any world where the two of you part for good.

On your good days, you know why that is. Understand the technicalities of trauma bonding or Stockholm syndrome or whatever one wants to call it. You know, too, that you're lucky in some ways. That this thin attachment you can't shake could be far stronger after two years of forced proximity.

On your bad days, though? On days like today, when his presence reminds you that there was something almost comfortable about this, once?

On those days, you can't help thinking that sense of inevitability might mean something.

You shift. Roll onto your side to look at him, and preoccupy yourself studying the outline of his silhouette, so different now from when he first stole you into his bed. He looked so young, then, with his owlishly wide eyes and that shaggy mop of dirty white hanging chaotically over his features. Now, his stark hair falls heavy back from his face, and his cheeks have lost some of their surprising roundness. Those more chiseled angles match the cut of meaty shoulders, and the swell of a chest that wasn't always so broad.

Several long moments pass, and then Tomura turns to face you.

"Why?" he asks. His brow is knit slightly, the rest of his face placid. It's a look you used to find strange—too dispassionate and untroubled for someone whose blood so often ran hot. But even in the earliest days he rarely turned those mercurial moods towards you.

No, with you he was always calm, or calm enough anyway—no demands or expectations beyond your stolen company and the tug of your head to his chest so his face could bury into your hair. It's that weight of expectation that makes it so different with everyone else, you think. Every job you take, every date you make, comes with the realization that something is wanted of you. Then, and always.

It had seemed intolerable when you were living it, but those long years with Tomura were still the only time in your life you were allowed to simply be.

And whether you want to or not, sometimes...

Sometimes you miss it.

You scoot closer to him. Ignore the way he stiffens in surprise and lean in, pressing your mouth to his.

It's not love. It never was, you're certain of that—not for you and not for him, either, even if it took so much time and growth for him to realize it. But it is familiar in a way that nothing else is, and tonight you don't much mind that when he feels like home it's in the exact wrong ways, like a place to which you would never want to return for good but that you might sometimes long to visit, if only because nothing else will ever be yours in quite the same way.

And because you'll never belong to anything else in quite the same way, either.

Tomura's arm extends to settle around your waist, tugging you closer. The gesture is far more practiced than the clumsy movements of his lips, but it's no surprise to you that he's more well-versed in the mundane affections. They were a constant in the hundreds of nights you once spent close against him, his hands in careful fists and his body curled into your side, each passing minute proving that he wasn't lying when he whispered what you thought were reassuring falsehoods. That he just wanted to be close to you.

It was hard to believe at first that he held little interest in carnal endeavors, at least beyond what they might represent when given willingly. But in the end you were convinced of it.

And in the end, when some combination of conscience and necessity finally led to your parting, you gave it willingly.

Now here you are. Again.

You deepen the kiss. Let your tongue trace over Tomura's scarred lower lip and sigh when his arms tighten around you. There's not passion in it, not exactly, but he's steady against you. Warm. Easy. And whether it's him you want or merely a familiar body touching you, that's enough to have a faint spark of heat stirring between your thighs.

Tomura doesn't protest when you pull back to tug him atop you, your hands already pressing at his shoulders to guide him where you want him, settled between your thighs. In the dim light you can just make out the stigmata-like scars that mar his palms as he shoves your shirt up, and you find yourself contemplating those pale, shiny marks. They're two among many, those hints of old wounds serving as counterparts to all the strength and muscle that lingered even after All for One left him.

It must be unsettling, you think, to inhabit a body so different from the one he started with—to wear the evidence of his ascent to godhood even after all that power was stripped away, sacrificed in the name of something as basic as self-preservation.

You think, too, that in the wake of all that it's no wonder he's lonely.

And then Tomura plants an open-mouthed kiss against your clothed mound, and you can't think of much except the desire blooming in you. His fingertips hook under the band of your underwear, tugging them down over your hips so his thumb can tease at your exposed sex, and the delicate touch has a faint gasp slipping past your lips. Tomura's cheek comes to rest against your bare thigh, his hot breath tickling flushed skin.

For a long moment he simply stares up at you from that prone position, gaze intent and eyes heavy-lidded with a want that seems deeper than mere lust. When your hips buck impatiently, however, he's quick to answer; a shuddering exhale slips past his lips and he drags his tongue over the length of your cunt.

His mouth is warm, the velvety pressure enough to have you lifting a hand to tangle in his hair. He groans in response, tipping his head to nuzzle briefly into that touch before he resumes his work, one finger tracing again over your entrance. It tests your wetness and then slips inside you, pressing and curling experimentally until it earns the delicate whimper he was seeking.

He repeats the motion, his tongue continuing to lap at your sensitive apex all the while, and you whine again, throaty and frustrated this time as the heat that's been building levels off. As good as it feels, it's not enough, the soft strokes of his tongue too gentle to approximate what you're accustomed to—the buzz of toys or the firm press of your own fingers, but never someone else's touch. Your grip on his hair tightens as you grind yourself against him.

"More," you gasp. He's quick to respond, another finger slipping inside you and the flat of his tongue dragging more firmly over your clit. Your back arches in response, your eyes fluttering closed. "Mmhmm," you gasp. "Like that."

Even with your own eyes closed, you can feel Tomura's unfaltering gaze, can sense him watching raptly as you respond to every persistent touch. Your head is starting to go fuzzy, everything beyond the friction between your thighs receding into a haze. When Tomura's lips latch around you, sucking lightly, your free hand clutches at the blankets as your legs start to tremble.

Tomura stops his efforts just as quickly, planting a kiss against your inner thigh as you let out another choked noise of dismay.

"Say my name," he pants. Those words are accompanied by the faint rustle of the sheets beneath him, and when your eyes blink open you can just make out his hips rutting against the mattress, some reflexive bid for friction. His voice is thick as he repeats his request. "Say it, when you—"

You're already nodding, clutching at him again as you guide him back to where you want him. Where you need him. There's a pleasant ache at your center, throbbing as you hover on the edge of release, and you whimper when Tomura's lips close obediently around you.

"Fuck," you swear as the flat of his tongue starts to work in tandem with that suction, the sensation heightened by each rhythmic stroke of his fingers. "Fuck, 'm close."

He speeds up his movements, tongue working more eagerly against you, and you can feel yourself beginning to tense, your hands and your hips conspiring to shove Tomura's face more firmly against your cunt. It's a heady sensation, to be touched at all and especially to be touched like this after so long without. When those waves of pleasure finally crest it's almost overwhelming, some strange melancholy swelling in your chest even as your whole body goes taut and a cry rises in your throat. It nearly sticks, lodged behind the unwanted lump that's formed there; in the wash of your tumultuous orgasm you barely manage to give him the one thing he asked for in exchange for that peak.

The words come out a hoarse, broken whisper. "C-coming, Tomura."

He groans gratefully, coaxing you through your release and not stopping until you force him away, overstimulated. Even then he only turns his head to mouth at your thigh, his hips continuing to grind against your mattress as his breathing grows more ragged. His lips work fervently over you as he does, sloppy, open-mouthed kisses punctuated by strained exhales. Then he's stuttering and shuddering, letting out one last desperate gasp against your skin as he comes.

He claws his way back up beside you almost immediately, cheeks flushed and eyes wide, uncertain in a way that contrasts sharply with his usual demeanor these days. It has you reminded once again of early on in all of this, when he was so different. When you both were.

That uncanny nostalgia only intensifies when he asks, hesitantly, "Can I...?"

You nod. You know what he's asking for—the only thing he's ever really wanted when crawling into bed beside you. The moment you acknowledge his plea, he's pressing himself into your side, arms wrapping tightly around you and his face burying in the crook of your neck.

Tomura doesn't move after that. Only relaxes into you slowly as you stare again the ceiling, willing yourself to feel some shame or guilt for inviting him into your bed. Not because of what it might mean to him, after all this time, but because of what it might mean to you. What it might mean for you.

In the end, though, you fail to summon that remorse. Another part of the inevitability, perhaps, because what is there to be ashamed of when it feels like things could never have been any different?

So, you only lay there listening as Tomura's breathing evens into the telltale rhythm of sleep, and sometime in the hours after you doze away too.

Tomura wakes to the warmth of your skin against his, and for a moment it's as if all the months since your parting have been erased. He blinks his eyes open expecting to find himself in his room at the bar, and to rise and make you tea under Kurogiri's watchful eye the same way he did so many times before. It isn't until he's met with the sight of bare walls and morning light streaming through the window that he orients himself.

Muscle memory still carries him to your kitchen after he slips from beneath your sheets; it's only when he finds coffee instead of tea among your sparse pantry items that he pauses. Remembers that he's well past such persistent efforts to win you over. All he's doing now is acting out a script for a performance that's long since ended.

He leaves the stove unlit. Puts your kettle, half-filled, back where he found it, and stands uncertainly in your kitchen, surveying the stacks of half-emptied moving boxes that surround him.

It doesn't mean anything, he knows. That you asked him to touch you, or that you asked him to stay at all, those casual invitations thrown out not with reluctance, exactly, but with resignation: Why don't you stay for dinner? And then, when you'd retreated to bed, the simplest, Are you coming? And even if it did mean something, it would be nothing more than what it always means when you fail to turn him away. That the consequences of his early thievery extend far beyond what his younger self could have imagined. That what he's done he can never take back or undo, no matter what paltry efforts he makes to set things right.

There is no right, here. Not for the two of you.

Tomura's halfway through slipping on his shoes when your voice interrupts him.

"You're leaving."

He turns to find you standing in your bedroom doorway, your face still bleary with sleep and your expression otherwise indifferent. The skin at his throat prickles, the way it seems to do so often lately.

He was. Leaving. Had been intent on slipping out the door before you rose, and before he had to wonder if you would ask him to stay.

You don't ask him to stay.

"It's funny," you say instead, and with no real amusement, "I woke up at some point last night, and for a second I thought..."

That sentence hangs in the air, half-finished, but Tomura knows what you thought. He thought it himself, after all, when he first stirred to the rise and fall of your chest under his cheek and was transported back to a time when things felt far simpler. A time when after was a problem for others to contend with, so abstract and disconnected from his goals that it seemed the future couldn't touch him.

Tomura finishes tying his shoes. Straightens up to look you in the eye—a feat that seems to grow harder every time he sees you. Fingertips lift to rub at his neck as clears his throat.

"I won't bother you again," he says.

He means it, but then he always does. Always tells himself this time is the last time, and believes the lie until the moment that unshakable pull has him slipping through whatever unlocked door or window he can find.

You spare him the indignity of skepticism, though. Only nod and move to open the front door, watching silently as he accepts that unambiguous disinvitation. He takes two steps out into the hall before pausing, a question he doesn't want to ask hovering on the tip of his tongue.

He asks it anyway.

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"You asked me if I regret it," he says. He keeps his eyes firmly fixed on the carpet in front of him. "Do you?"

The question is met with silence at first. When Tomura finally turns to face you, you're staring at him with your brow slightly knit, your mouth twisted into something a little too wry to be called a smile.

After another moment, you sigh. Your gaze drops, briefly, and then rises again to meet his stare.

"Goodbye, Tomura," you say, almost gently.

You shut the door.

Taglist: @1-800-albedo @dabisqueen @kiwiimochi @simultaneously-sick-and-calm @nonobadcat @toughbook @xxjesshuxx @lawfulrhi @doomsthotstash @suyacho @evilmortytrapremix @sunasb3tch @ohsochoso @nao-cchi @pestlaege

Join (or update) my tag list here.

[shxtodxroki]

𝚂𝚊𝚏𝚎

Send me the name of your favorite character and I’ll write a drabble for them! :)

You always managed to put Tomura at ease, no matter how stressed or frustrated he felt. 

Your presence alone seemed to dull all his nerves, the love and care you showed him stunning the lonely man and leaving him with a foreign sense of calm, of peace. It was a feeling he wasn’t used to, and one he wasn’t sure he ever would get used to, but over time he learned not to fight the way you made him feel. You were one of the only joys in his life, and he would be damned if he let himself ruin that small spark of happiness over his terrible, self-destructive nature. 

And in moments like these, your hands gently carding through his strands of slightly-damp white hair as you brushed his locks oh-so-carefully, being sure to avoid any tangles so yo wouldn’t harm him in any way, he felt more relaxed than ever. For once in his life, in your tender hold, Tomura Shigaraki felt safe, a word he never thought he’d be able to use to describe himself.

You always loved how soft and fluffy Tomura’s hair looked when it was freshly washed, eager to pull out the brush and brush through it with ease, typically begging your boyfriend to let you style his hair as well until he reluctantly agreed to your pleads. Sometimes you went all-out, trying out new, fun styles on your shy, hesitant boyfriend, but this evening you decided to go for something more simple, opting for a half-up half-down look pulled together with a relaxed bun. It was simple, but the hair being pulled out of his face always helped to accentuate his features and allowed you to see his gorgeous face in all it’s glory for once, a quality you always enjoyed in the rare times he allowed you to do this.

After finishing with his hair you quickly reached over to the bedside table beside you, setting the hairbrush in your hand down gently and replacing it with your moisturizing cream. Tomura felt his shoulders ease instantly at the sight, practically melting into the sheets below him as his heart began to beat rapidly. This was always his favorite part of these evenings, his favorite way that you would take care of him when you could tell he was having a hard time and needed your gentle love and care the most.

You gathered a small amount of the moisturizer on your finger, a light, almost imperceptible smile crossing your boyfriend’s face as the familiar, comforting scent met his nose. 

Your gentle fingers placed small dots of the cream across his face, taking your time to admire him as he did so. Your boyfriend’s insecurities rarely allowed you to be this close to his face, so you always cherished these opportunities, when he felt so relaxed that his insecurities momentarily vanished from his mind and he succumbed solely to your gentle touch. 

His scarlet eyes tentatively met yours as you began rubbing the moisturizer into his face, hoping his expression was able to convey his thanks to you as the ever-persistent itching in his skin eased up the slightest bit. Your fingers traced every line on his skin, covering every inch as you moved carefully and thoughtfully, occasionally pausing to trace small hearts along his skin or circle the center of his cheeks as a silent “I love you” to the man in front of you.

You gently rubbed the moisturizer into his skin until every last drop had been absorbed, punctuating the action with a gentle kiss to Tomura’s nose and leaving your boyfriend flushed and bashful as you smirked and placed the cream beside the discarded hairbrush. The moment you returned your gaze to him he buried his face into your shoulder, still too anxious to let you see him so vulnerable, so relaxed and open for you even after all this time.

But you weren’t deterred in the slightest by his shyness, returning your fingers to his hair to run through the strands once more as you placed gentle kisses along Tomura’s skin within your reach. And no matter how many times you did this for him, cared for him and showed him that you loved him with every ounce of your being despite who he was and what he chose to do with his life, Tomura never failed to cherish these moments, locking them up in a box of his favorite memories in his mind and pressing himself tighter into you, hoping that he’d never have to let you go or be without you ever again.

A/N: This isn’t based off of a request or anything, I’m just Mentally Ill™ and haven’t really been feeling the best lately, and the thought of just getting to take care of Tomura has been on my mind a lot and brought me some comfort so I figured I’d share it with y’all too :) My requests are still open right now, so feel free to send in any requests you have and I’ll add them to my request list asap! :)

Taglist: @applepie-macaroon​ @lemonadae-caekie​ @babaukelele @shinsosmatcha

If you’d like to be added to any of my taglists, you can fill out this form here! Thank you for your support <3

[sugoi-and-spice]

Current thought of the day is virgin incel shigaraki deciding on a whim to become a porn star bcs he is tired of being a virgin

Hehehehe, bruh yessssss. I still want to write that fic idea I had a while ago where Shigaraki wins a "fuck a fan" contest with a porn star and he gets dom and rough as fuck with them.

Although, a part of me also likes the idea of him signing up for an open call for a porno - "Are you a virgin? Wanna lose it to a hottie? Be in one of our videos!"

But then when he gets on set, it ends up being one of those really intense humiliation/femdom videos. He realizes how bad he fucked up at first and tries to get out of it, but as the session goes on, he realizes that he's actually really fucking into it and is just a sobbing cumming mess by the end of it.

...okay now I have two porno Shigaraki fics to write, lmao.

(Actually, technically three with the Shiggy x Cam!Reader x Toga fic I'm working on).

[cherrykamado]

ㅤㅤㅤ꧁༒☬ ㅤ𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉 𝖆𝖇𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝖜𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖗.ㅤ ☬༒꧂

— drabble. shigaraki tomura. self indulgent. no warnings. not betaread.

— ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤminors, ageless & empty blogs do not interact.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ__________________

Trying to keep his head above water has never been something that actually bothered him. After all, he felt like he had drowned years ago. If swimming underwater and holding his breath in dark waters is what he was doing, at this point it had turned so natural that he never stopped to introspect or question himself about it. 

It was as if life had taken a different flow. At first, it had hurt — the life that could have been ripped away from him in the way a merciless, giant wave hits the coast and destroys everything in its way. A feeling in his heart of feeling so lost, so helpless. If only someone had reached out a hand to him that day, he thought, and did never understand why he was just so unworthy; in the end, he concluded that society just tosses aside some people, and he just happened to be one of the left-outs. 

 After that day, he had managed to remember it clearly as water, only that not with the same emotional charge as he once used to. Naturally, once the wave hits you, it stings once. Numbness comes after, his heart forced to grow colder, washed over any feeling that was not hatred or anger, to the point he had forgotten what it felt like (if he had once felt it.) The current had pulled him in close, dragging him to depths that, eventually, he had accustomed himself to swim in.

He has not even seen the water even swelling, that day. At least, when you are used to a dead calm, you do not expect it; it is not something one can see from underneath the surface. But, for sure, something had stirred inside him. It was annoying at first since, of course, what is unknown causes distress. What you cannot predict or control sweeps you upside down. That’s how you felt, to him. But all he knows is that, with time, he couldn’t just be without you. It felt like you brought him afloat like a kind of lifejacket thrown to him. He will not be able to place why he needs you so badly, why when he’s with you he feels like he doesn’t actually despise you as much as he despises pretty much everything; some things remain still for him to get into the swim. 

What is undeniable is that you growing into him felt like a source of air he did not know he needed, as if he had held his breath for so long that he had actually learned to keep himself alive, or to live in a permanent drown — again, some things remain uncertain still. What he does know is that you brought a part of him to the surface, that having you side by side when you came to the League gave him a different taste of the usual saltiness of water he’s used to. Rather than that, you’re agua dulce. Fresh like the air that entered his system after a gasp when he made it past the surface, after a practically uncondensed life at the bottom of the sea. 

With time, Tomura Shigaraki discovered the value of sometimes keeping one’s head above water. And to say that he wasn’t keen on the feeling, he would be lying.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ-𝔡𝔢𝔠𝔞𝔶𝔦𝔰𝔥 © 2022.-

all rights reserved. do not recommend my work outside tumblr. plagiarism will not be tolerated.

[the8gates]

Chapters: 6/? Fandom: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Shigaraki Tomura | Shimura Tenko/Reader, Shigaraki Tomura | Shimura Tenko & Reader, Shigaraki Tomura | Shimura Tenko/Original Female Character(s)

TWO new chapters of Pay Your Way in Pain have been posted since I last updated here on Tumblr. OC backstory AND the introduction of a few key characters ;)  I HAVE FINALLY FIGURED OUT WHERE THIS STORY IS GOING. And in true ME fashion, it’s gonna hurt. A lot. 

Hope everyone enjoys :3

[hexpea]

Ch. 22 - Tartarus

Getting into Tartarus was the easy part. With how powerful your quirk had become, tricking the guards into thinking you were one of them was a no-brainer. Even stealing an operating key card to slip through all of the doors was easy. And, when the time came, killing would be easy. The real tricky part was navigating the complex system of halls and levels to get where you needed to go.

It felt as if you had toured the whole building before you finally came to All for One's chamber. You hadn't realized it, but it had taken you a few hours to find the place; you had lost time with the nerves you felt.  Those nerves had peaked as you stood in front of the steel door that separated him from you. Your palms were incredibly sweaty despite knowing you had the power to do this. You had the power to create any illusion you wanted, enough to kill even the strongest. It didn't matter that he had multiple quirks.

You worked up the courage to slide the key card into its slot to access the room, the steel door whining just like the ones back at the Hassaikai base - a base that was no more.  You tried not to think of that as you entered to find the man you once called a father figure all strapped up with weapons pointed in his direction.  That didn't stop him from giving you his signature grin that sent chills down even the toughest person's spine.

"Y/N, is that you?" All for One chuckled lowly. "It's been years! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"It's all your fault," you mumbled, fists closed tight in an attempt to keep your composure.

"I can tell you've become much more powerful...and under someone else's care at that! Whose hand do I have to shake?" He continued snickering with a mocking tone. 

"It's all your fault Tomura and Kai are messed up," you were still standing frozen in place with clenched fists. It was all you could do to avoid snapping at the wrong moment.

"What are you going on about?" He lost his smile and turned to an expression more of irritation. 

"You raised Tomura to want to destroy society. Your actions were part of the reason why Kai thinks there's some kind of Hero-Villain disease with our quirks. If it weren't for you, there would've been a chance for them to lead normal lives!"

"Normal," he chuckled again under his breath. 

"I don't understand people like you," you whined in defeat, seeing he was unaffected by your words. "Why do you enjoy seeing people in pain?"

He opened his mouth to speak, a deep breath in from behind his oxygen mask, but his breathing hitched right away as you stared down the flesh covered pits that used to hold his eyes.  His wrists began to struggle at their restraints as the monitors that tracked his health began to go haywire.

"I should've killed you a long time ago," you murmured as you watched his struggle. It was much more satisfying that you wanted to admit, the power burning through your veins was unlike anything you had ever felt before. "But instead, I let you control my life and the lives of those around me... No more."

"Y/N!" A high-pitched voice you immediately recognized appeared behind you. You quickly turned your head, your quirk unwavering despite the distraction. All for One continued to jerk and writhe in his restraints as he desperately lost air; he was close to unconsciousness.

"To...ga?" You furrowed your brow at her sudden appearance with the appearance of some random guard. "Shigaraki...Chisaki..." you were completely baffled to find the pair in handcuffs and being guided by Toga in her guard form. They had come up with their own scheme to sneak into the prison which, from the looks of it, looked too good to be true. "What are you doing here?"

"Better question," she smirked, "what are you doing?" She eyeballed the obviously struggling All for One and glanced back in your direction.  Chisaki smirked while still in Toga's fake grasp while Shigaraki stared at you with the most concern you had ever seen come from him. He looked completely frozen.

"Doing what should've been done a long time ago," you turned your attention back to your victim. 

"Good for you," Chisaki smiled with low lids, a face of pride for you. 

"Y/N," Shigaraki's voice was frantic as he struggled out of the cuffs he had been put in as a way to sneak into the prison. "This isn't you. Stop."

You laughed lowly and turned your head to face him as he continued struggling even with Toga no longer hold him in place. She was busy fishing for the key in on of the pockets of her uniform. 

"You just want me to stop so you can save your beloved sensei," you rolled your eyes and turned your attention back to All for One. It hurt knowing you were hurting him, but this was something you needed to do. It was almost like justice for yourself.

AN: This is where paths will start to diverge as there will be a Shigaraki ending and a Chisaki ending. c:

Chisaki's Path: 

Shigaraki's stiff and stressed demeanor was quite a sight to behold as the two of you spoke. What was even more chilling was your placid expression while committing an act you swore you'd never do on your own or on purpose for that matter. 

"Y/N," Chisaki quickly interrupted. His sudden voice quickly caught everyone's attention. "He's right."

"Excuse me?" You furrowed your brow and spoke in a small voice. 

"This isn't you," he repeated with concern in his voice. Shigaraki stared at him with a look of both rage and confusion. "And even though you feel like you need to do this now, you know it'll haunt you..." 

Toga had finally found the key to the handcuffs and scrambled to remove them from the pair, getting to Chisaki's first. As she struggled to shove the tiny thing into the key hole of Shigaraki's cuffs, Chisaki gently walked toward you as you processed his words.

"It's his fault," you mumbled as Chisaki wrapped soft fingers around your upper arms and listened to you carefully. With his touch, you released your hold on All for One. "Between the two of you...and probably so many others out there, his influence has only spread madness." Tears filled your eyes as you stared into Chisaki's. The past few weeks had been such a complete whirlwind, a complete change from what you were used to, that it was all just catching up to you. 

The look of concern that had adorned Chisaki's face fell into one of sympathy as he heard your explanation. 

"I don't know about him," he referred to Shigaraki who had now frozen in some kind of angry shock, "but I know it was much more than just one individual's behavior that fueled my own."

"You used past tense..." you noticed, watching him carefully.

"I've had some time to think about my ideals since what happened," he sighed and let go of your arms, letting his hands fall to his sides. "I'd like to put all of this behind me, as difficult as that sounds...physically and emotionally."

"Give me a break," Shigaraki grumbled before Toga took her knee to his back while still holding his wrists with one hand. She had gotten so distracted by your emotional conversation, she neglected to unfasten his restraints. Meanwhile, All for One kept his mouth shut with only a grin as he listened to everything unfold. 

"I'm serious, Y/N," Chisaki took another step closer to you. "I don't want any of this anymore. It's chaos..."

"And I'm not?" You whimpered. "I can't even look you in the eye without worrying I'd kill you. And every attempt to take this...this curse away from me has failed."

"You were about to murder your last chance," Shigaraki continued grumbling. Seeing your reaction to one another told him all he needed to know - seeing Chisaki with genuine concern for the first time, and he recognized that teary-eyed face on you seeing as you used to give it to him.

"Doesn't matter," Chisaki's voice got quiet, "you're perfect how you are."

Shigaraki's Path: 

"No!" Shigaraki shouted at you as you continued to rage, the sounds of All for One's choking fueling that anger. "I don't want you to have anything more to hate about yourself!" 

You immediately stopped your quirk, All for One gasping for air as you released him. Your jaw had gone slack with shock to Shigaraki's choice of words. You were completely smitten, there was no denying that...but you needed to stay on track.

You shook your head rapidly to snap out of it. "How do I know you're not just making things up? You're just saying that?" You were so close to using your quirk again, the tingling behind your eyes increasing with each passing moment as you thought about it. 

Shigaraki frowned and remained silent for a few prolonged seconds as the two of you stared at one another. Chisaki stood by with a complex look on his face. He knew what he wanted, but he understood his place here - all to protect any chance for your happy future. If it meant you chose Shigaraki, then that's what it meant.

"I can't," he mumbled quietly as he was finally unleashed from his handcuffs. 

Your own frown grew deeper with Shigaraki's admission. You sensed no sort of dishonesty in his answer. He was being sincere, and it only meant one thing: he was telling the truth.  As you stood in disbelief, with his arms fully free, Shigaraki lightly jogged until his hands met your jawline. 

"Y/N," he held your head firmly with all ten fingers and stared into your eyes. "It's not you. Please..."

The warmth you had been feeling around the base of your eyes had finally overflowed, single drops streaming down your cheeks. Your hands came up and gently grabbed his wrists as you tried to steady your bubbling chin. 

"But if I don't do this, you're still going to be driven to kill," your voice was so strained with emotion that it barely came out. "You...want to destroy society..."

Shigaraki sighed and looked away while still gently holding you in place. He looked back at you with determination. "That's because society did this to you. They shunned you and put you away. They put a little girl in a one-window room with no permission to look another human being in the eye."

"Tomura," you whined, so close to breaking down that your knees were shaking. Your mind was flooded with the past and overwhelmed with the present. 

"Join me, Y/N..." he suddenly smiled wide, "I'll never make you do something you don't want to do. But join me and help me create a world worth living in!"

[justanotherfangirlwup]

Well, he tried.

[dawn-moths]

hi can i please get rosehip tea or green tea for either dabi or tomura please :)

why choose when i can just do both ✨

♡dabi♡

rosehip tea: how romantic are they? do they show affection?

Dabi doesn’t strike me as the romantic type, however, I think in private he’d be very physically affectionate. After a long day, I think all he’d really want to do is curl up with you and cuddle (among other things) and if you tried to stray too far or leave his embrace for even a minute, he’d barely let you budge.

“But, Dabi…” you’d whine, writhing weakly beneath his arms, his grip around you relaxed but strong, “I’m getting so hot… Just gimme a minute to go grab a snack or something, at least…”

Obviously, his natural body heat is a little more intense than most other people, which works great when you need to get warm, but after a while it can start to feel like being trapped under a heated blanket.

“Then I’m coming with you,” he’d murmur into your hair, insisting on following you out to the fridge with his arms or hands still making contact with you in some way. It doesn’t matter how much you try to bargain with him, he’s stubborn and knows it’ll only be a matter of time until you give in and let him have his way.

You’re perhaps the only person he truly feels safe around, lets his guard down around, though he’d never outright admit it. He’s the type who just wants to be near you, and just because he isn’t overly soft or outwardly loving with you in front of others doesn’t mean he keeps his hands to himself. Whether just to remind those around that you’re taken, you’re his or even to help calm himself in moments of chaos, it’s common for you to suddenly feel his warm palms settled on your shoulders, waist, or hips, making sure you’re within his reach at all times.

green tea: how do they comfort their s/o?

I think Dabi sometimes wants to comfort you, the thing is he just doesn’t know exactly how. He’s not always the best with reassuring words, so I think it all comes back to him being very physically affectionate with you. Physical touch is his love language, after all, so it only makes sense that hugging you close to his chest to help cheer you up or kissing you until you can’t even remember what was bothering you in the first place is probably his go to.

♡tomura♡

rosehip tea: how romantic are they? do they show affection?

I think that, like Dabi, Tomura also isn’t the romantic type, though, unlike Dabi, physical affection is more of a struggle for Tomura to show first. However, the moment that you initiate with him, he’s all for it. He loves it, and will pretty much let you do anything, he ends up being unable to keep his hands off you once he’s been assured by you that it’s ok, that you want this too, but you’ve learned that sometimes he needs a little encouragement to get started. Aside from that, though, I like to think that he also shows you affection by bringing you odd little things he finds that reminds him of you— a cool rock, an old pokemon card, some little object he shoplifted that he thought would make you smile— just collecting useless, albeit adorable, souvenirs during his sporadic walks through the city at night to offer up in hopes that you’ll recognize it’s his special way of saying he loves you.

green tea: how do they comfort their s/o?

I think his way of “comforting” you is more along the lines of sharing the emotion you’re feeling to validate whatever’s upsetting you rather than, say, being the voice of logic and reason to assure you everything is going to be ok.

Someone was harassing you outside the konbini? Well then he’s furious, reflecting the anger and injustice you felt by ten fold. “What did the guy look like? I’ll kill him for that.” Similarly, if you’re saddened by something, Tomura’s first instinct is to just make the thing that upset you disappear. He can be extremely impulsive, which also has made you reconsider some of the stories you share with him when it comes to things that might have ruined your day, but every once in a while, getting him to decay the thing— or person— out of existence is exactly what you want and need.

He strikes me as someone who might be secretly codependent with his significant other, once that relationship has been firmly established. The moment you’re happy again, he can calm down as well. And if all is right in your world, then all is right in his.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

♡ send me a tea prompt + a character i write for ♡

[yanderenightmare]

Nasty alpha wolf-boy Shiggy buying virgin bunny reader at a shady auction, taking her home and breeding her silly in all her tight bunny holes<3

BNHA ! THIRST

Shigaraki Tomura x darling

WC: 2.5k

TW: NSFW, captive darling, light bondage, oral giving/receiving, multiple orgasms and overstimulation, hybrid au

Shigaraki doesn’t get along with most other organizations aside from his own, but he could hold a certain respect for this establishment. He felt appreciated here – a valued customer – one with a hungry appetite the vendor saved only the very best herbivores for.

Herbivores like you.

“She was easy to tame- submissive like she was made for it!” The Master said. “A bit too submissive for my taste- but you know what they say about bunnies- cute like a button and just as dumb!”

Your thighs rubbed themselves where you stood in the dark of your blindfold. Bleating and cowering in the chastity belt they’d fixed tight around your lower body – having you sheathed on two thick cocks stretching out both virgin holes – making you drippy – vibrating inside you with purrs tickling your core in thrums he could hear from ten meters away.

“Stuff her in the trunk and take her home if you want- she’s so soft around the edges and pumped with hormones she won’t mind the bumpy road. You could take her right here on the concrete, and all she’d do is just moan!”

He could smell it in the air – how heated you were. Sopping like a braindead whore – he bet you’d been stuck in that chastity belt for hours, as sweaty and trembling as you were. Unstable were you stood in pink pumps soaked full of the slick running down your thighs – only managing to stand thanks to the big bodyguard behind you. He was a beastly fucker, squeezing one of your tits tight in a big bear paw while fisting your leash like a noose in the other, pulling the thick black collar kept snug on your throat only to feel your plush ass rub against his crotch.

The way your arms were cruelly bent behind your back was of no help to your balance either, making your perky tits strut forward. Stiff nipples begging for a suck or a twist or a slap – sculpted a bit by an additional harness shaped like a bra with no filling – just thin black leather lines extenuating that on display.

“My hunters swear she’s a pure little thing, so normally I would demand you pay extra-”

Two black heart-shaped eyepatches had you blindfolded but were kept lenient enough to allow tears to soak through, layered damp on your cheeks and giving a pretty plump bloat to your lips – sucking on the pink ballgag stuffed in your mouth, fastened tight around your head – making all your noises come out wet and even more feeble.

“But she’s yours free of charge if the league handles some business for me~”

Your lop ears drooped sadly down your cheeks, framing your cute face like a picture where your little nose kept wrinkling in terribly adorable sniffles – squealing on what he could tell was another ride over the edge.

“Deal.” He barked shortly, a growl in his throat.

The Master grinned. “Always a pleasure doing business with you, Shigaraki.” Tossing him the keys to the lock on your cunt before snapping his fingers, gesturing for the bodyguard to do the same with the leash – pushing you in a wobbling stumble over to your new owner.

And then he really felt you tremble – soft yet stiff, bracing yourself against him – the smell of utter terror and arousal so thick he found himself drooling just at a single close whiff – all the hair on his tail spiked on strict end as a hunger growled low in his gut.

He felt his pants grow taut and gave a hiss – shoving you on your stomach in a sprawl onto the backseat. Throwing your legs inside before slamming the door shut – putting his fingers to his lips – your slick wet on them, glossy and sweet in his nose like a perfume as he licked them clean while getting in the car.

“Drive.” He muttered in another curt growl, signaling the man to his side to turn the keys as he pawed the straining tent bumping his boxers with yet another hiss.

Huffing, he closed his eyes, listening to you nom on your gag with wet cries and moans – his chest tight and brows furrowed – cursing having said yes to clean up another organization’s mess, and even more frustrated with your scent hanging heavy in the air, making everything spin for him – until finally reaching the base.

“Get out, Binky- welcome to your new home.”

He tugged your collar again soon after the car stopped, and out you shuffled – sweaty and shivering on legs that could barely hold their own weight – supported by the hand he had raked in your hair, pulling and dragging your body out into the cold.

Letting go once you were out of the backseat, he started fisting the leash instead, yanking you forward with heels clicking in no steady rhythm – wonky on the ground where you struggled to keep up with him. Slick between your thighs, rubbing together as you walked.

You were still blindfolded – floppy ears shifty at the sounds of doors opening and slamming shut, along with the threatening cheers of the crowd of villains drinking in the rooms the two of you passed. It’s as though he can hear you praying, hoping that he’s not planning on sharing you with the rest of the fray the way you flinch at the whistles and filthy comments being thrown your way.

You sped up until your tits bumped into his back – walking close with your head bowed to shield yourself.

Splitting a grin, he chuckled out a low snort. He hadn’t thought you’d be so silly to seek his comfort. But dumb as it was, his cock seemed to find it unexpectedly pleasant.

Reaching his room, he fished for his key – hands unsteady, tongue gracing his fangs as he unlocked it before stepping inside. Hauling you behind him into the musty space where he at once pounced on you like a predator who’d finally lost all patience. 

Paws with claws gabbed your tit with a force that made you stumble – almost fall if he hadn’t tugged you back by your leash. His tongue ran wet over the sweet drool dripping down your neck and chin – his canines close to your neck, making you shiver and bleat for him while his hand dropped down to cup your sex. 

Stopping short at the thick feel of latex beneath his fingertips, he growled and shoved you in a toppling wobble until your back hit the soft embrace of the bed behind you. You met it with a bounce and a yelp smothered in your gag – and he followed quickly, crawling on top of you with the key in hand. Carefully caressing the lock on your belt – thinking it would be a shame to destroy it when he could make use of it later. He would need to keep you protected if the way everyone eyed you was any indication. After all, he couldn't expect a base crawling with only carnivores to resist the scent of a herbivore as sweet as you.

He turned the key in the hole and pulled the cruel construction down your thighs, and you gave a whine, hips bucking at the release, quaking at the empty feeling while he eyed the lewd mixture of slick clinging in pretty bridges between the two closing holes and the two glossy rubber cocks still wet and warm with your heat. 

“You make quite a slutty mess for a virgin.” He teased, with two of his coarse fingers dragging up your slick clit – gleeful eyes watching you squirm while releasing a strangled sound caught between a moan and a scream – riddled with overstimulation to the point you were cumming in spasms from only the single little touch.

He only chuckled at the sight. Leaving you to pant and quake beneath him – with shakey breaths anticipating the painful pleasure of his touch once again. 

“Sensitive, scared, horny- tortured by your own fickle hormones and instincts- I know what you want…” He continued, now with the words leaving hot puffs against the slick skin on your thighs. “You want this teensy little rabbit hole destroyed by the big bad wolf….”

Your whimpers were like a symphony – sweet and softly tuned to strum every string in his gut – purring and stirring something sticky and heavy and starving inside of him.

“Look at this pussy….” He groaned with a click of his tongue – his eyes set on the wet puffy little thing between your legs. “So pretty- I could bite it.”

Your back took an arch, jumping from the bed once his hot mouth hit your mound – letting out another uncontrolled moan – heart pounding so loud and savagely in your chest he could feel it pulse on his tongue inside you as he lapped at you like a parched mutt.

His claws dug with greed, plunged deep into the cake of your thighs, locking you around his jaw where he mouthed at your core with eyes rolling back. Every fiber went on a rampage within him, zipping along his limbs and gathering in his gut like one tight-clenched aching fist.

“Mh-fuck-” He took a breath, mouth gaping and dripping with spit and slick before moving upward, sucking kisses into the soft skin of your tummy and soon locking his lips around your nipple – with one hand working your free titty, the other fucked your hole with horny curiosity, delving in the slick with twists and curls and scissoring.

You whined under his touches, quaking on all counts – listening to your hole squelch while your oh-so-sensitive insides clenched down hard from the warm knot coiling in your lower belly, coming so close to that all-over-feeling yet again – shaking your head in fear of it.

“Piss yourself if it helps- I don’t mind-” He growled out low in a whisper, his fangs against your throat now, grazing playfully with rugged breaths hot against your flushed skin. “I won’t stop until I’ve broken in each hole-”

Eyes big and swiveled with tears rippling down your cheeks in rushed rivulets, all the while your pussy made out with his fingers – feeling the fat digits test the flex of your gummy walls – slippery with slick and happily fluttering from his touches. 

You soon caved for the umpteenth time – whole body strangling to suppress the sensation while unsure how much more you could take before going numb.

“Tch- there you go~ good bunny~” He praised in mockery, snickering at your panting – his breath hot on your skin where he moved to hover above your gagged lips – undoing the straps to free your mouth.

“Ah please, m-master- please- no more-” You immediately begged, mouth wet with drool.

“Mh- you’ve got manners…” He moaned, keeping his fingers in your cunt while holding you by the ear in the other hand, gripping it tight and rubbing the thin softness like a lucky charm. Tugging himself out of his pants, messy with pre, he immediately steered the fatness to your mouth. “Open up~”

You took it with a small whine, feeling it push onto your tongue and further in until it hit the back of your throat in a kiss. He gave a groan, feeling your bloated lips wrap around the shaft as you glucked on his length in soft mewls – eyes panning from the view to watch your little titties bounce at the movement, doing small jumps for him as he rammed your sweet face.

He removed your eyepatches – wanting to see your pretty eyes glossy and big for him as you sucked his cock.

The look on your face made his gut rumble – so sweet-looking with your cinched brows and button-nose – eyeing him with cute anxiety, no doubt taking in the scary sight of his red eyes and his pale skin littered with scars.

You coughed cutely when he withdrew, and he bent over to kiss you again, spit stringing between your tongues as his fingers went back to your clitty – rubbing crass circles into it that had you squealing into his mouth.

“Please, master-” You cried, wringing your thighs shut tight around his hand – tears springing from the pity puddles of your eyes as you looked at him with such plead it made his gut roar.

He could only offer a gleeful giggle, spreading your thighs by pulling you snugly around his waist – his cock jumping eagerly above your navel as he bore over you – his breath hot on your face. “Don’t worry, baby bunny, I’ll stuff you up good. Breed you full of a warm creampie in your tight little cunt.” He cooed, fangs sharp and glistening – his paw flat on your belly, rubbing the flesh with want. “Right here~ warm and thick in your little womb~”

You shuddered at the threat, then whined an open-mouthed moan as he sleaved himself inside you. Feeling his every fat vein rub along your walls until his plush head nudged tight against your cervix – making you mewl with an arch in your back, clenching hard around the size of him. Shaking from the toll of it.

He groaned, starting to pound you already – fast and deep, just like a hound rutting. “I’m gonna give you my knot, Bunbun-” He drooled, sucking your cheek with tongue and teeth – red eyes set on your plump and pouty lips – gaping open and begging for more while he continued raving. “Gonna knot you up so tight- make this virgin pussy tremble for me-”

You could only pant, getting run through at such a pace your next orgasm was fucked right out of you. Sweat pilled on your forehead and nose, thighs trembling as you came on his thickness in hot, heaving moans. Throttling his cock for cum – which he soon spilled deep inside you just like he promised – painting your insides with it with balls clenching up, resting snugly against the slick that spilled out.

He was messy when he pulled out again. Glossy and still raging fat as he rolled you over on your stomach – pulling your ass up by your hips while you remained breathless with exhaustion, smudged against the pillowy sheets beneath you.

He laid his meat between your asscheeks, eyes lazily looking over your dewy face and how pretty you looked fucked out on his bed.

“This bunny-hole’s never felt cock either, huh?” He said, voice breathy but eager still – planting his tip at the opening of the taut little entrance before beginning to push.

You moaned out again but could only ball your fists for purchase, still kept in a lock behind your back – tightening them until your knuckles whitened while he crammed himself inside you one stout inch at a time.

“Mmh- fuck, so tight~ it’s gonna feel so fuckin’ good hugging me nice and snug~” He almost whined, getting swallowed down until his pelvis met your ass and the ball of fluff found there – doing a little dance just for him. “Fuck- look at you, little cottontail~” He groaned, leaving himself sunk down to the hilt inside you for a moment of appreciation before beginning to drag out to pound your stomach into a nice mess. “So perfect, I outta take a picture~”

tip-jar: Kofi

[nishiyako]

He's so pretty

[holyklover]

This Isn't Happening l Chapter 1

Dabi x Shigaraki x Reader l Read on ao3 Dead Dove I MDNI

“Princess,” the black-haired guy purred. “Why do you feel so wet here?” Your body froze.

Shunsuke—no, what was his name—Shiga...something. He had slurred his name into your ear before pinning you underneath him. He didn't look like much, maybe a buck fifty soaking wet, but his strength was unmistakable, evident by the crushing force of his body as he had you pegged to the dingy motel bed underneath his weight.

77Shunsuke77. That was his screenname. The man you fell in love with. This wasn't 77Shunsuke77. The man you fell in love with was an average company worker with marriage on his mind. His dating profile had shown you photos of a man, cropped black hair with bangs falling lightly over his forehead. Dark, kind eyes; tall, with well-defined muscles that seemed to pulsate under his shirt. Shunsuke listed his interests as cooking and learning about new cultures. He had nothing but praise for women and their plight in feminism...not putting chloroform over their face and restraining them.

So what the holy hell was going on now?

You weren't some idiot or some naïve youth. You had a career and brains and grew up in the age of the internet. Your generation knew all about stranger danger. You took the precautions necessary. You reverse image searched his photos, his name. All of it matched up....except. He never did let you send any friend requests to his profiles. He didn't want to video chat. And you, the hopeless fucking romantic, didn't care. You trusted him. And look what was happening to you now. This is because you were thinking with you heart and not your brain. Smack “Anybody in there, princess? I'm feeling like you're starting to dislike me.” Shigasomething interrupted your thoughts. You looked up at him. You could taste the blend of mascara and tears as they rolled down your quickly bruising cheeks and into your mouth. “I want...to...go...home,” you choked out.

Then something happened.

The freak above you..why did his face soften like that just now? Why did he grow so quiet and look bewildered. You continued.

“Please, this isn't what you want to do! I can tell!” You felt, for a moment, your body grow a bit lighter as he loosed his hold on you.

“Are you really letting this slut get into your head, Shigaraki?” The voice. That is the very reason you're here right now.

You chalked it up to him just being camera shy. That was ok. Most of your chats consisted of you calling him while you pointed the camera at something else, or simply sharing your screen so he could watch you attend to work matters while he did his own thing.

But you at least had shown you face...all Shigaraki had shown your face...all Shigaraki did was voice chat, and that even that was sparingly. When he did, this guy next to him, grinning like a maniac while palming himself on the other side of you, was undoubtedly the voice you head. Rich and deep; the kind of voice that narrates luxury car commercials. It was his voice Shigaraki would have speak to you. He'd tell you how much he loved you and how so excited he was to guide you around Japan and show you his favorite cat cafe. That same voice was now calling you a slut and egging on Shigaraki to defile you in ways you never comprehended any sane person would want to inflict on anyone, consensual or not. “Princess,” the black-haired guy purred. “Why do you feel so wet here?” Your body froze.

No. No. No. No. Of course these two lunaticsn would equate the natural reaction of a body being aroused to being actually turned on. Shigaraki's raven-haired companion had been assaulting your clothed pussy with a vibrator for the past hour, switching modes between soft and fast, edging you and making you like this. It wasn't your fault. This was just your body reacting. Lick The side of your neck grew warm and wet as Shigaraki lowered his head and began tonguing at your neck. He slurped at your neck, producing vile squelching sounds as he did so. His hair brushed against your forehead. In any other scenario this juxtaposition of sensations would have felt like heaven. You cursed your body for reacting anyway. “Dabi, lemme fuck the bitch already. I'm going to loose it if I can't cum in her soon.” “Yeah, I can tell from here you're oozing precum.” Dabi said as he lazily pumped his dick. You couldn't help but be transfixed by his motions. If it was fear, shame, or a blend of the two, you didn't know. The other freak who brought you here—Dabi—had a dick that was that rivaled what you've seen in porn. It was littered with piercings and subdermal implants. You felt bad for anyone he had to fuck—or was it curiosity? No. That wasn't an okay thought. None of this is okay right now! You have to focus on getting out of here with your life and dignity in tact. You looked up at Shigaraki. “You don't need to do this. We can get past this and pretend it never happened, okay?” you pleaded. “I won't tell anyone... and I meant that I loved you, so we can just....” Oh no. Why was he unzipping his pants? Why was he removing his underwear? Why wasn't he putting on a condom? Why was he flipping you over? “Princess,” he breathed directly into your ear. “You can say whatever you want, I'm still gonna ruin this slutty hole of yours.” That did it. You felt your body go numb. This was happening to you. He never cared about you. He never wanted anything to do with you. He was prey himself who so desperately wanted to become the predator. And he would. From somewhere distant, you head Dabi speak.

[shig-a-shig-ah]

TO CREATE IS DIVINE

You tell Tomura you want another baby, and his reaction is entirely unexpected.

» pairing: shigaraki tomura x fem!reader » word count: 1.5k » notes: I don’t have a breeding kink but I do have a ‘cranky Tomura  going feral and begrudgingly caving to base desires he’s conflicted about’ kink. Blame @lorlocks for this quick and dirty smut. » contains: established relationship, tiny bit of roughness, breeding, creampie. 18+, minors DNI. » ao3 mirror

"What?"

Tomura's voice is the flattest you've ever heard it as he stares at you from across the scuffed kitchen table. His tight jaw and unblinking gaze does nothing to quell the anxious knot in your stomach, but you still repeat the words you'd uttered two seconds ago—the same ones that had him looking so suddenly tense.

"I want another baby."

It's a bold request, you know. Tomura had been lukewarm about the accident that led to your son, even if he has settled into fatherhood surprisingly well in the subsequent few years. But neither of you have ever discussed having more children, let alone intentionally.

And now he's sitting still as a statue, watching you with an intent look that's hard to read but that almost certainly signals nothing good.

You fidget a little. "Or, I was hoping we could at least talk about it."

Tomura doesn't say anything, but you see the way the rise and fall of his chest grows more rapid, and his hands curl into tight fists. Then his chair is scraping against the hardwood as he pushes back from the table and rises abruptly.

"Fuck," he mutters, and that reaction isn't wholly unexpected, but the sudden grip of four calloused fingers wrapping around your wrist is. You're jerked to your feet before you can think about it, caught so off-guard and thrown so off-balance by the way he's suddenly dragging you down the hall that you barely notice where he's leading you. When he shoulders the bedroom door open and shoves you inside, that confusion only worsens.

"Tomura, what are you—" His mouth covers yours before you can finish the question, his tongue already lapping out to taste your own and his hands tearing at your shirt to peel it over your head as he drives you backwards. The back of your knees hit the mattress and then he’s pinning you against the blankets, his hot mouth working over your jaw, teeth nipping at your earlobe.

"What's it look like I’m doing?" His free hand is already sliding beneath the waistband of your pants, slipping between your thighs to probe roughly at the growing wetness there. "You want me to fuck a baby into you, I'll fuck a baby into you."

A second later one of those long digits is plunging past your folds, and you're hands are gripping tightly at his shirt, your back arching into that touch even as your brow furrows.

"You don't want"—you're briefly interrupted when he shoves another finger inside you—"you don't want to talk about it? Really?"

"Really," he hisses, irritation clear in his voice and an embarrassed flush on his cheeks even as his face stays tight. The mismatch between his tone and what he's saying and doing sends your brow furrowing, even as you gasp when he curls his fingers just right inside you. "Been driving myself insane thinking about this for months, barely manage to make myself pull out every time we fuck, and now here you are asking me to knock you up. So hell no, I don't want to talk about it."

He punctuates that statement with the bite of his teeth against your throat, his fingers pumping faster in and out of your cunt. A minute later he's withdrawing, wrapping them tight around the waistband of your pants and sending them to dust. He fumbles with the button his own jeans and then shoves them down under the jut of his hips, swollen cock springing free. He strokes himself a couple times, and then positions himself between your thighs.

"Fuck," he swears again, staring down at your sex as he ruts his length against your slit. "I know they're a pain in the ass but I can't stop picturing it—you with your tits all swollen, your belly huge with my kid. And then holding some tiny brat we made. 'S fucking infuriating." Tomura's tip nudges at your entrance, and then he seems to change his mind, pulling back and hooking one hand behind your thigh so he can shove your knee to your chest. He hooks his arm under your hips, angling them slightly and pulling you closer, grunting in satisfaction once he has you positioned just how he wants you.

He cock once again pushes at your opening, teasing you. Crimson eyes lock onto yours as he says, in a tone that sounds unmistakably like an order, "A girl this time."

"Tomura, I don't think it works like—" That, you were going to say, but he drives himself into you abruptly and the sudden sparks of heat at your center have the air rushing from your lungs, a lewd moan slipping past your lips. Tomura's intent expression barely budges, but you see the corner of his mouth curve up into the faintest of smirks.

"Want it that bad too, huh?" he mocks. When you nod, he rolls his hips harder, leaning down to kiss you hard.

Your only response is a whine and the wrapping of your arms around his neck. “Fuck, 's so good," you whimper against his lips, and Tomura groans, kissing his way down to where your shoulder meets your throat.

"Real good." His teeth nip at the juncture where your neck and shoulder meet, his breath hot against your skin. "Tell me," he pants, that faint edge entering his voice again. "Tell me what you—ngh—what you made me want."

"Want a baby," you manage, though it's getting harder to speak with every one of this thrusts, and with his arm wrapping tighter under your hips as though he can't get you close enough. "Your baby. Wanna keep a part of you in—a-ah—inside me long as I can."

Tomura swears at that, hips moving faster and thrusts managing to reach deeper, his pelvis grinding against your clit every time he bottoms out. The combination is dizzying, each stroke and rhythmic bit of pressure sending your walls tightening. It's almost too much, this abrupt rutting and the strange swell of emotions that comes with it. You'd agonized for months over this proposition, steeling yourself for rejection, and even though his ambivalence and begrudging tolerance of his own desire is a far cry from raw acceptance, it's better than you ever thought you'd get. Has you unexpectedly heated.

"Tomu, 'm close already." Your body rocks to meet his movements, sharp whines rising from deep in your throat. 

"Good," he growls, his pace increasing as he moves to let his forehead rest against yours, his eyes bright as he watches you with a rapt expression. "Gonna—hng—gonna come with you. Make sure you suck up every fucking drop."

The moan that promise draws from you is embarrassingly loud, one hand slapping reflexively over your mouth, but Tomura's quick to intervene, gathering both your wrists in one large palm and pinning them above your head as he slots his body every closer to yours. His movements are feverish now, a flush of exertion creeping down below his collar, but all those efforts are paying off, tension mounting in your core.

A few more well-placed thrusts and that tension is swelling, snapping, your walls clenching tight around Tomura as you come. He lets out a sharp hiss of breath, and a second later his own hips are stuttering.

"Ngh, that's a good girl," he groans, and then he's driving himself as deep as he can. "Gonna make you even more mine." He shudders, grinding himself against you, and you can feel his cock twitch as he hisses, "Take it all, fuck."

You do your best to obey—didn't even need the order when your greedy hips are angling already, instinctively working to capture every bit of cum as he spills over. With your walls still fluttering, you're hyperaware of that warmth flooding your insides, of the pleasant slickness pooling deep inside. The thought of it there, taking hold, sends a shiver up your spine, one last exquisite bit of tension before you go limp beneath him.

When Tomura finally withdraws, he's gentler than usual. Slips a pillow under your hips too before he settles himself between your thighs, eyes fixed on the sight of your puffy slit. His finger traces your folds, collecting what little bit of cum he'd let escape from your spent cunt.

His eyes flick to yours. "How long will it take to know?"

"Hmm?" You start to sit up, then think better of it and tug your knees tighter to your chest instead. "A few weeks, maybe?"

Tomura frowns, clearly displeased with that information as he flops down beside you on the mattress. His palm comes to rest on your lower belly, fingers tracing over that soft skin.  A moment later he’s rolling onto his side to look at you.

"That’s okay," he says, once again wearing that intent expression. Then he’s pinning you back against the mattress. "Until then we can just keep trying."

Taglist: @dabisqueen @kiwiimochi @simultaneously-sick-and-calm @nonobadcat @httptamaki @toughbook​ @xxjesshuxx​ @lawfulrhi​ @doomsthotstash​ @albedophoria​ @sukiirei​ @evilmortytrapremix​ @sunasb3tch​ @tomurastrashpanda​ @kinjuutsu​ @handvillain​ @nao-cchi​