flamme-shigaraki-spithoe

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Tomura shigaraki, october

can you guys reblog this with your birth month and favorite mha character i’m trying to test something

Online Girlfriend

MDNI loser!Shigaraki x Reader

Request from anon Contains: gn/afab reader, mostly smut: face sitting, sex (m behind), lots of cum. [wc: 2k]

“Why’d you put the work in, no one’s gonna show up.” Dabi laughed across the room at Shigaraki who put in some low-level effort to be presentable (showered.)  “You’re being catfished.”

“Hey, don’t listen to him. I’m sure it’ll be fine,” assured Spinner, who remains skeptical but supportive. He’d like to think there’s at least some hope for one of them to actually get a date.

Tomura’s phone dings.

running late, sorry! still otw!

Rushing, you try to make up the time you lost when a traffic jam caused all transportation to be rerouted. It’s not a great start, for the first time you’re meeting your online boyfriend but it is what it is. 

The two of you hit it off in a discord chat for your favorite game and haven’t stopped talking since. The past few months of chatting have been great so you finally asked to meet in person. It felt like the next step. Admittedly, you’ve also been really horny lately and are hoping to do something about that.

Typically, you’d be worried about meeting someone from the internet but he seems real enough. The photos he sent you were cute. Not perfect in a conventional way, like something you’d expect from someone pretending to be someone else. These were real. They were dark and grainy, taken by someone who isn’t used to taking selfies. Even with the low-quality images and hair covering most of his face, you could tell he’s attractive. He has nice collarbones and a cute smile. On top of that, he’s smart. Having a weird amount of information about nearly everything. He’s funny too, in a dark way. You feel like you could talk to him about anything.

Finally, you made it!

Shoving through the door into the bar he’d sent you the address of earlier, you see that it’s pretty empty. You’d recognize his silvery-blue hair anywhere though. 

“Hi, Tomura!” you take a seat next to him, “I’m [y/n], it’s so good to finally meet you!”

Spinner and Dabi stare in amazement, you’re a lot prettier than they expected. Tomura notices this too. For all the flirting and suggestive messages he’d sent you online, he completely freezes the moment he lays eyes on you. Staring like a deer in the headlights.

Okay, so he’s a little awkward. That’s fine.

The two of you make some conversation. Bumbling through small talk until you start talking about games and he loosens up a bit. After an hour, he still can’t look directly at you without stuttering, but he’s rambling excitedly about the newest patch.

“I just downloaded it, if you want to play. Come on,” he gestures, “I live upstairs.”

As if he only just realized he asked you to be alone in his bedroom with him, his jaw drops and he begins to stammer again. 

“I… I didn’t mean to, like...uh. If you’re uncomfortable -” 

You grab his arm, pulling him from the stool. “Lead the way,” you smile.

The two in the corner, who you’ve since learned are his friends, look shocked as you walk past them to the exit.

Tomura Shigaraki’s room isn’t clean per say, but at least he remembered to take the bags of trash out this morning. He’s glad for that since he definitely didn’t think he’d be bringing you back to his place. You watch as he wiggles the mouse to wake his computer up, middle finger hovering. He has nice hands, you decide.

“Uhm,” he starts uncomfortably, “it’s a pretty big patch. So it’s not done downloading yet.”

The estimated time remaining jumps between two hours and three days as the internet speed flickers.

“That’s okay, we can find other ways to kill the time,” you run your fingers softly over his shoulder. It’s nice to touch him for the first time, feel that he’s real. 

tomura.exe is no longer responding

His body stiffens at the closeness. This is what he wanted, right? Why else would he bring you up to his room?

“If that’s okay with you?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he manages to choke out, letting you pull him to his bed. He lays flat out while you climb over him, straddling his hips. He whimpers slightly and you can feel that he’s already hard. Awkwardly, his hands hover at your thighs. You didn’t expect your discord boyfriend to have a ton of experience, but seeing just how nervous you make him is… hot.

“Okay, is there anything I should know? Places you like to be touched?” your fingers graze his collarbone before running down his chest. Feeling the warmth of his body through the thin shirt. “Or anywhere you don’t like being touched?”

“No,” he breathes huskily, before sighing “...y-yes.”

“Don’t… y-you can’t touch all five of my fingers at the same time,” he gulps, “it’s my quirk.” Without being able to find the right words to explain, he grabs an empty energy drink can that’s in reach. It crumbles to dust instantly. 

You’re fucking kidding, you think. This bumbling mess underneath you has that strong of a quirk? How has that never come up? It only turns you on more, knowing he has the strength to take out half the world but melts into a puddle when you so much as breathe in his direction. 

He makes eye contact with you for the first time before biting his lip and looking away. It’s as if he’s waiting for you to say nevermind. To get up and leave. There’s something so sweetly pathetic in all of it.

“Cute,” you say, pressing his hands back into the bed by his wrists. Fingers snaking up his palms. He looks confused. No one has ever called him ‘cute’ before. It’s also the closest he’s ever been to holding hands with someone and he nearly cums from that alone.

He groans as your lips lightly move over his. Careful not to kiss him too hard, he’s already excited and you still want to fuck him later. With the way his breath hitches at a small kiss on the neck, you decide to move faster.

Standing up, you begin taking off your clothes and tell him to do the same. 

You planned for this. While you didn’t absolutely expect him to fuck on the first date, you certainly dressed for it. It’s not full-on lingerie or anything but you put on the nicer underwear for the occasion. Judging by the look on his face he notices and appreciates this. Too flustered to manage the button on his black skinny jeans.

“Here,” you climb back over him, “let me.”

They’re tight so it takes a bit of effort to pull them over his ever-growing bulge. When you finally manage to pull his pants over his feet, you pause to admire the sight. 

He’s beautiful.

More toned than you would have expected under all of his clothes. Pale skin contrasting with the black of his underwear, his lightly pink tip poking out from under the elastic.

“Have you ever touched anyone before?” you ask, already knowing the answer. He shakes his head. 

“Okay,” you move closer, “let's start there.”

You pull his trembling hands to your sides. Two fingers hover above your hips.

“Oh fuck,” he mumbles staring up at you.

“Take my underwear off,” you instruct.

Of course, he does exactly what you asked him to. He’s slightly clumsy at it, but you expect that. He’s never done this before and he’s being overly cautious. His jaw drops at the sight of you.

“Bra,” once more, he does as you say. Already panting underneath you.

You crawl over his body, careful to brush the hard length of him as you go. He whines at the contact.

“I take it you’ve never eaten anyone out before either, huh?” you ask rhetorically. 

“Nuh-uh,” he shakes his head, strands of baby blue falling in his face.

“You’ll learn fast,” you whisper while brushing his hair back to the bed. 

Placing your hands on his headboard, you move your knees to each side of his head. His eyes widen as you sink onto him. You rock your hips forward, bringing his nose to brush your clit. He moans before licking where he can. 

“Just like that,” you exclaim when he hits a sensitive spot. 

He takes instruction well, slowly improving as you go. His movements are still a bit sloppy, but the friction of his skin against you is enough. You’re at the edge -

“Oh fuck,” he groans under you. His body tenses and he shoves his face further into you. Turns out it’s all you needed too. Reaching down, you grip his hair while you ride out your orgasm.

You pull away, leaving his face slick. He catches his breath as you assess the situation. As you assumed, you weren’t the only one who just came. His stomach and chest are covered in ropes of his own doing. Of course you didn’t mean to make him cum so fast, you didn’t even touch him. You were looking forward to fucking him too.

He grabs a shirt from the floor, wiping himself off.

“Do you always cum that fast?” you tease. 

“Uh, sorry. C-can we keep going?” he chews the skin of his bottom lip nervously.

“You want to keep going?”

“Yeah,” he says more confidently than you’ve heard him speak all afternoon, “I can last longer if you give me a chance. I promise.”

You look him over. He looks pretty fucked out but he’s already hard again.

“Just tell me what to do,” he stares up at you with his beautiful red eyes and you can’t help but give in.

A minute later, he’s behind you. Lining himself up at your instruction.

“Like this?”

“Yeah. Okay, now slide up and in. Slowly,” he does as you say, poking around slightly before you feel his tip press in. You look over your shoulder at him, his jaw slack as he stares down at himself disappearing into you. His eyes closing as he wills himself not to cum again so quickly, he did promise.

“You’re doing great!” his breath catches at the compliment, “now, you’ll press in and out. In. Out.” You set the pace you want him at, he listens. 

“This okay?” he asks breathily. You’re amazed at how good he feels already. The way he fits perfectly inside you. He has no idea that he makes every nerve in your body feel like it's on fire.

“Yeah, exactly. That’s perfect,” you gasp.

Without needing to be asked, his hands carefully grip your hips. This time with more confidence. Pulling you back into him with force. 

“Fuck, just like that,” you moan. Feeling yourself tense around him, you grip the sheets calling out his name. Arching your back to press harder into him, he gets the hint and picks up the pace.

With the quivers of you around him, he can’t hold back any longer. 

“Fuck, sorry, fuck,” he groans, pulling out just as the trembling in your gut subsided. You feel him plaster your back in warm cum before he falls back on the bed to recover.

“Uhm,” you hum moments later, eyes flicking over your shoulder.

“Shit,” he mutters breathlessly, jumping up to grab another semi-clean shirt to wipe your back off with.

He lays down again, this time you move to the bed with him. You wrap your arms around him, head resting against his neck.

“Sorry it wasn’t very long,” he mumbles.

“You did great,” you say, wondering how long he actually expected himself to last, “and I’m sure next time you’ll make it even longer.”

“Yeah,” he smiles, “next time.”

Extra headcanons for fun:

Kurogiri googled you before you arrived.

Tomura googled "how to talk to attractive person."

Dabi and Spinner placed bets on if you'd actually show up. Spinner didn't know if you would but wanted to be supportive of his friend.

The traffic jam was caused by Twice and Magne. No reason, they just thought it would be fun.

After this, you and Tomura agree to meet up once a week. Once turns to Twice and before you know it, you're moving closer to see each other every day. Eventually, he learns what you like and you don't have to give him instructions.

masterlist

Hi hi hi hiiii!!

CONGRATS ON YOUR MILESTONE BABY!!!! I AM SO PROUD (and not a lil jelly at all) THAT MY BABY IS DOING SO GOOOOD!!!

Soooooo!

I voted for the NSFW alphabet :3

Aaaand I would like to see Alphabets for Shiggy and Dabi :3 cuz those are icons of your blog :3

CONGRATS AGAIN!!!!

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART II ⊹ Doumadono's 6k followers event

Dabi - NSFW Alphabet

A - Aftercare Dabi isn’t the poster boy for aftercare. He doesn’t shower you with sweet words or fuss over you. He’s the type to light a cigarette, pull you against his sturdy chest, and let the silence speak for itself. If you need more, like cleaning up or emotional reassurance, you’ll have to nudge him — he’ll grumble at first and do it eventually — because, despite himself, he does care.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

B - Body Part On you, he’s obsessed with your thighs. Whether he’s gripping them, biting them, or marking them up, he loves how they tremble under his touch. Dabi doesn’t have a part of himself he particularly likes. In his eyes, he’s nothing more than a disgusting wreck, convinced that others find him more repulsive than appealing. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

C - Cum Dabi has a sinful fondness for cumming on your titties or face, reveling in the sight of his seed painting your skin — it’s a vision that never fails to drive him wild. Still, he doesn’t mind giving you a nice creampie.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

D - Dirty Secret Dabi has often fantasized about sneaking into Endeavor’s agency and fucking you senseless on his desk, leaving every trace of your wild escapade behind as a blatant mark of defiance. Perhaps Dabi would even leave a note for the so-called hero, detailing just how pathetic he truly was and reminding him that the past never dies. The thought of that bastard walking in to see the mess fills Dabi with a twisted satisfaction that’s almost too good to resist.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

E - Experience Despite his laid-back demeanor, Dabi is far from inexperienced. He’s had his share of hookups and spent more nights with cheap whores than he cares to count, gaining an undeniable expertise along the way. Dabi knows what he’s doing and relishes in making you feel like no one’s ever touched you like this before. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

F - Favorite Position Dabi has a clear favorite: doggy style. It gives him the perfect excuse to run his hands over your ass, deliver sharp, teasing spanks, and watch the way your flesh bounces under his control. What he loves most about this position is the freedom it gives him to bend you to his will, shaping every moment exactly how he likes it the most.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

G - Goofy Dabi’s humor is sharp and teasing, even in the bedroom. He’ll smirk against your skin or let out a dry laugh when you get flustered, his tone low and taunting as he murmurs, “And now daddy’s gonna open your sweet hole up with his fingers. Don’t make a sound or I’ll have to use my quirk on ya, doll.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

H - Hair His pubic hair is naturally snow-white, a detail that first struck you as odd the very first time you were having sex. It lingered in the back of your mind, a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit — until his true identity was revealed, and everything clicked into place. Dabi makes sure his snow-white happy trail is neatly trimmed.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

I - Intimacy Dabi is nothing short of rough and relentless in bed. He doesn’t waste time with drawn-out games or teasing: he’s all about raw, unrestrained sex. His goal is simple: to fuck you so hard that the next day, every step you take serves as a vivid reminder of his cock abusing your cunny.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

J - Jack Off Dabi is rough with himself when he does masturbate — gripping his shaft tightly, his fingers squeezing his balls with almost punishing intensity. But the truth is, he rarely gives in to the urge, preferring to wait until he can have you in his hands instead. That self-control, however, crumbles the moment you send him a dirty picture. The instant his eyes land on it, his cock stiffens, leaving him no choice but to free himself from his jeans and take care of the ache you’ve so effortlessly ignited.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

K - Kink Dabi is into rough play — biting, spanking, asphyxiation, and leaving marks all over your body. He loves when you call him daddy. On rare occasions, Dabi craves the shift in power, letting himself be tied and dominated, though these moments are super rare.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

L - Location Dabi is always ready and willing, no matter the time or place. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

M - Motivation Your body's a masterpiece that drives Dabi to madness. He loves watching the way your curves move — whether it’s through the haze of steam as you shower or the subtle shifts as you change clothes. And, of course, there are moments when he can’t resist being loud about how incredible you feel around him, if only to irritate the other League members and remind everyone exactly who you belong to.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

N - No Dabi may be reckless, but he has his limits. He won’t entertain anything that genuinely scares or harms you. Emotional vulnerability is his hardest boundary — he keeps those doors locked tight, unwilling to let anyone too far inside.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

O - Oral Giving? Dabi loves it. There’s something about being in control and watching you lose yourself that drives him wild, not to mention the sweet taste of your juices spilling all over his stitched tongue. Receiving a head? He’ll lean back with a cocky smirk, maybe will even light a cigarette, letting out low groans and praising you when you push him over the edge, deep-throating him while fondling his balls.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

P - Pace Fast and rough. Dabi’s always driven by his own needs and desires. He’ll fuck you hard and deep, his tip kissing your cervix with every thrust he delivers, his focus sharp on chasing his release, leaving you completely breathless.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Q - Quickie Quickies are practically a specialty of his. Dabi loves the urgency and rawness of them, especially when it’s a spur-of-the-moment decision. The thrill of pulling you aside and leaving you nothing but a breathless mess in minutes is a rush he can’t resist.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

R - Risk Risk is his second name. Dabi thrives on the thrill of danger, whether it’s getting caught or pushing boundaries just enough to keep things exciting.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

S - Stamina Dabi can go for as long as it takes to leave you both thoroughly spent. His endurance is impressive, fueled by pure desire to leave you completely ruined. He’ll tease the shit out of you if you tap out first.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

T - Toys He’s intrigued by toys, especially when he gets to use them on you himself. Dabi sees them as tools to enhance your sex life and isn’t shy about introducing them to you, though he prefers to keep his hands as the main event. Still, on some occasions, he’ll give you a new vibrator (the one with functions your previous toys didn’t have.)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

U - Unfair Dabi is a relentless tease, enjoying how far he can push you before you break. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

V - Volume He’s not shy about letting you hear how much he’s enjoying himself. Dabi’s voice is low and gravelly, laced with growls and groans, and he isn’t afraid to let everyone around know how good you make him feel.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

W - Wild Card Dabi will never admit it, but there’s a flicker of hesitation when it comes to undressing in front of you. His body is undeniably well-sculpted, but the scars that mar his skin leave him feeling vulnerable in ways he’d rather not confront. He hides that uncertainty behind his usual smirk and poker face.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

X - X-Ray Dabi’s cock is long and thick, with a natural uncut shaft that makes every inch of him a study in raw, rugged appeal. His balls are heavy and perfectly round. His cock is uncut, and the pink tip peeks through beautifully when his foreskin is drawn back. The prominent vein running along the underside of his shaft is impossible to miss when you stroke his dick. When he’s fully erect, the sheer girth makes it a challenge to wrap your hand completely around him.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Y - Yearning His sex drive is very high. He’ll gladly get laid whenever he can.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Z - Zzz Dabi is quick to crash. There’s something grounding about your presence that helps him rest easier, though he’d never admit it out loud.

Shigaraki - NSFW Alphabet

A - Aftercare Shigaraki isn’t naturally inclined toward aftercare — it’s not something he’s used to. Early on, he might awkwardly sit beside you, scratching at his neck and asking if you’re good in his raspy tone. But as your bond deepens, he starts to soften in his own way. He’ll run a hand through your hair or wordlessly fetch you water, learning to stick around even when his instincts tell him to flee emotional vulnerability.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

B - Body Part On you, it’s your mouth. He’s fixated on the way your lips move — when you speak, moan, or cry out his name. There’s something about how your mouth can be soft and sinful all at once that drives him mad. On himself, he’s oddly fixated on his hands. Though scarred and destructive, they’re precise, and he knows exactly how to use them to elicit every shiver and gasp from you.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

C - Cum Shigaraki isn’t concerned about keeping things tidy — he’s all about the raw, messy sex. He loves seeing you marked by him, whether it’s his cum on your heated skin or buried deep inside your abused pussy, slowly leaking out of your hole. There’s an almost feral satisfaction in watching you wear his essence.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

D - Dirty Secret Tomura fantasizes about control — not just in the physical sense but complete surrender. He dreams of you tied up, blindfolded, entirely at his mercy, begging him for more.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

E - Experience He’s not as experienced as you might think. Tomura’s past was too tumultuous for casual hookups, and his focus on wiping hero society out didn’t leave room for much else. What he lacks in practice, he makes up for in intensity. He learns fast, and his obsessive nature ensures he knows every little thing that makes you tick.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

F - Favorite Position Shigaraki likes positions where he’s in control and can see your face at the same time. You’re such a pretty, little thing after all. Pinning you beneath him, watching every flicker of pleasure cross your features as you fall apart while his cock is buried in your wet pussy in missionary, is his favorite way to relax.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

G - Goofy Tomura isn’t intentionally funny in bed, but his dry wit and blunt remarks sometimes sneak through. If you’re flustered, he might smirk and mutter something like, “Oh, my little playmate can’t handle me fucking her tight pussy? What a shame, thought you’re more resilient!” The amusement is fleeting, though — his focus always snaps back to fucking you senseless.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

H - Hair Neatly groomed down there. Tomura doesn’t really care about this stuff but despite his general indifference toward cleanliness, he makes an effort to ensure he doesn’t completely neglect himself.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

I - Intimacy Shigaraki is raw and unrefined, but deeply genuine. He doesn’t know how to say the right things, but he lets you see the sides of him no one else does. The way his hands linger on your skin, the quiet groans in your ear, the almost desperate way he clings to you — it all speaks to how much he craves the connection he rarely allows himself.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

J - Jack Off Shigaraki’s fantasies are vivid and uninhibited, fueled by the memory of your voice, the feel of your skin, and the way you look when you fall apart beneath him. Tomura loves to give himself a lot of attention. If needed, he’ll play with his cock for a while, teasing the tip at the beginning and jerking the length viciously at the end, all while thinking about you giving him head.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

K - Kink Shigaraki is drawn to domination and control, so BDSM has always interested him a lot. He’s also a super dirty talker, so expect a lot of humiliation.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

L - Location He’s not picky about location — anywhere he can fuck you is fair game. The hideout, a rooftop, even a cramped storage room — it’s all fair game. The more chaotic and spur-of-the-moment, the better. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

M - Motivation The slightest view or thought of your soft flesh sticking out of your clothes can easily drive Shiggy crazy. He’s also driven by your boldness: seeing you challenge or tease him makes his blood boil in the best way, and he’ll waste no time putting you back in your place.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

N - No Anything that could hurt you is strictly off-limits. Everyone knows Shigaraki is ruthless, even sadistic, but when it comes to you, he’d never cause you harm. He’s fiercely protective, determined to keep you in perfect shape — both mentally and physically — because you’re his, and nothing else matters more.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

O - Oral He’s feral while eating your pussy out, reveling in the way you react to him; the way your thighs shaking against his head while he flicks the tip of his long tongue against your clitoris or entrance drives him wild. The surge of power Shigaraki feels when you’re on your knees, lips wrapped around the reddened tip of his dick while you’re giving him head, is purely intoxicating — he thrives on the way it feeds his ego, the control he wields in that moment. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

P - Pace His pace varies depending on his mood. He can be rough and frantic, pouring all his pent-up frustrations into the moment, or slow and smooth, savoring every whimper and gasp he draws from you. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Q - Quickie He simply hates them. He loves to take his time with his beloved plaything.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

R - Risk Shigaraki is no stranger to risk, and he loves the adrenaline it brings. The idea of getting caught adds a dangerous edge to your sex life that leaves him buzzing.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

S - Stamina Tomura’s restless nature gives him impressive stamina. He can go for hours if he’s in the mood.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

T - Toys Shigaraki doesn’t put stock in fancy sex toys. He’s confident — perhaps arrogantly so — in his own abilities, firmly believing that only he can give you the kind of pleasure you truly crave. No matter how much you plead or try to convince him, he’ll never allow toys in bed — your pleasure is something he insists on claiming entirely for himself.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

U - Unfair Shigaraki is a merciless tease. When you’re out together, you can be sure you’ll be teased by him. His hands will inevitably find their way beneath your skirt or dress. He’ll lean in close, his breath hot against your ear, fanning the side of your neck as he murmurs filthy promises about how badly he wants to stretch your sweet, juicy cunt open with his fingers and cock, making you blush on the spot.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

V - Volume Shigaraki is usually a man of grunts and low growls, but when the heat of the moment consumes him, he can get surprisingly loud. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

W - Wild Card Tomura’s spontaneity keeps you on your toes. One moment, he’s brooding and distant, the next, he’s pinning you against a wall with a low growl, whispering the filthiest shit into your ear. His unpredictability is intoxicating.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

X - X-Ray Shigaraki is slightly above average in size, with a shaft that leans more toward thickness than length. His dick is cut — AFO arranged it when Tomura was just a boy, ensuring it would be easier to maintain hygiene as he grew older.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Y - Yearning Shigaraki’s sex drive is rather high, fueled by the constant stress and tension of leading the League. For him, there’s no better way to release the pressure and tension than losing himself completely in the raw, unrestrained sex. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Z - Zzz Sleep doesn’t come easily to him, even when he’s exhausted by sex. He’ll hold you close though, his hands ghosting over your skin as he tries to settle his restless mind. Your presence is the only thing that soothes him enough to lull him into a rare, dreamless sleep.

@pixelcafe-network

if all goes well for me, i'll be spending two weeks in japan with my best friend this summer. so... | banner link

i can't stop thinking about taking a long awaited trip to japan and running into tomura at a hole-in-the-wall game and anime store.

you're thumbing through some game merchandise and he's standing next to you. he looks over at you, and asks if you've played the game who's merch you're currently sorting through a bin of. you, not knowing the nuances of the japanese language and only able to pick up a few words from that misogynistic sentence, nod your head enthusiastically and smile.

you engage in broken small talk, using a translator for the bits of vocabulary you couldn't remember on the spot. stuff like where you're from, if you're in school and your major, etc are discussed. he asks when you go back to your home country, and you point at the day on the calendar app. he nods. he seems nice.

up from behind him comes another man, face mostly obscured. he says something to the guy you've been talking to, who's name you have yet to catch. you see the man behind him's bright blue eyes and discolored skin in the places his jacket collar doesn't cover.

oh. that's the guy you saw on the nhk website. you were checking the japanese news before you came here and that guy was plastered all over it with an arson attack by some terrorist group. he looks at you, and you avert your eyes.

when he leaves and the conversation between you two resumes, he asks for your number. well you sure as shit can't say no now. you ask if discord is okay. you swap usernames and he's on his way out with the scarred man.

you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in. your hands are shaking. you just gave some (probable) terrorist your discord along with personal information about you and your trip. great.

you do some googling when you get back to your hotel that night. you see more information on the scarred man and see another blurry picture of him, this time with a man who looks like your newly added discord friend in the back. the article says he's tomura shigaraki, the organizations leader.

leader? as if your day can't get any worse.

it did get worse. you just got a discord notification from tomulov#0007.

NFSW ALPHABET TW: OPINIONS

𝐀 ❥ 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄: It's a whole mood switch— pounding into your sweet, tight hole and then resting you against his chest as he whispers how good you felt, "Shhh, you did so good..." He'd whisper sweetly, gently rubbing your hair. Sometimes he just gets on his game, depending if it was a quickie or not, really, but he'd still toss a water for you.

𝐁 ❥ 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓: Tits. Next question? Smothering his face in them, licking them, jerking off and cumming on them, sticking them in between them, no matter the size or gender, you best believe he's gonna be doing something to them (with consent, duh).

𝐂 ❥ 𝐂𝐔𝐌: He's definitely a cum freak, if you/him don't cum, there wasn't sex? Even if someone walks in and you haven't came, he'd keep going until one of you did. If you're a vagina owner, he'd finger you until you came, soaking his fingers in your juices, he'd then lift his hand to his mouth and (there was two fingers used in this "imagine"/pov,) swirl his tongue between his fingers to capture and savor your juices.

𝐃 ❥ 𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓: He steals your underwear and cums inside them, sometimes he washes them and puts them back in your drawer, sometimes he just puts them back in your drawer, and most of the time, he just keeps them and cums in the same pair over and over until he gets tired of that pair, then that's when he washes them, but usually they're unusable afterwards because of the disgusting cum stains and little crust.

𝐄 ❥ 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄: You're likely his first lover, happy with mega-virgins? Doesn't matter, he is one. Sure, he likely watches/has watched porn before but stopped when dating you because...he has you, why would he watch people fuck? Even just looking at your pictures satisfy him anyways. The first time you guys fucked, it was...kind of bad. Just because of his experience though, sloppy thrusts, and wasn't pushing it in (deep enough, anyway), and was just staying in one spot, but the second time was amazing— magical, even.

𝐅 ❥ 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: Depends if he's bottoming or topping you. If he's bottoming, probably mating press, it's more intimate and less like "I own you." type of shit, when he's bottoming, we bursts out crying when he comes down from his high in any position, so it doesn't matter. If he's topping, however...face down, ass up, deep victory, missionary, doggy style, standing up, sitting, laying down, anywhere and any position.

𝐇 ❥ 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑: I'm gonna come out and say it, he's not well-shaven, some of the hair goes to his (very) low stomach, white-ish blue hair with tiny black hairs here and there.

𝐈 ❥ 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄: He is rough, bottom or not, usually spitting things out, but while cumming he will repeat "I love you!" over and over in a sorta high-pitched whimper-y voice.

𝐉 ❥ 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐎𝐅𝐅: Woukd rather have your pussy lips, asshole jerking him off, he usually humps pillows, the bed or you to masturbate.

𝐊 ❥ 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒: Multiple, my Shigaraki headcanons post explains all of them. :)

𝐋 ❥ 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: Anywhere. Bathroom, kitchen, shower, bedroom, living room, Dabi's bedroom, Kurogiri's office, his office, even in Kurogiri's warp gate, in public, private, anywhere.

𝐌 ❥ 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: Just you in general. Walk in a room and he might cum in his pants. Rather that's you wearing a 'special clothing item' (ex. miniskirt), your voice, scent or touch, even your taste— he's hard and ready to go.

𝐍 ❥ 𝐍𝐎: The gloves stay on, even if you beg. Gloves or no hands, which means no spanking or groping, so that's just bad for both of you.

𝐎 ❥ 𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐋: He prefers receiving, but will gladly give. He likes specifically receiving oral under the desk, especially during a meeting or game, it makes him feel more loved, then making him more confident, even though he just whimpers and moans involuntarily and sounds ridiculous.

𝐏 ❥ 𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄: Fast, bottoming or not. He's slamming into you if he's a top, quickly smashing into your hole and whining in pleasure.

𝐐 ❥ 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐄: He's not capable of anything but quickies, the end.

𝐑 ❥ 𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐊: Risk as in almost getting caught? If so, hell yeah, he will risk it. Honestly, he wouldn't care either, he'd probably fuck in front of Kurogiri.

𝐒 ❥ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀: It kind of depends on his mood, ex. if he's angry, maybe 30 minutes to 2 hours, if he's sad, 30 minutes at most. He could last days if he wanted to.

𝐓 ❥ 𝐓𝐎𝐘𝐒: Probably a vibrator or two, definitely uses them in public too.

𝐔 ❥ 𝐔𝐍𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑: He's too impatient, he'd lose it after a few teases, and if you're teasing him, he'd probably just cry.

𝐕 ❥ 𝐕𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐌𝐄: Makes the most pornographic moans and whimpers, even begs, even if he's on top. Usually he'll spit out little "Please..."'s and "More!" every now and then. Sometimes even rude things like "Dirty little whore" and "Cumslut."

𝐖 ❥ 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃: Brags about you to his online gaming friends.

𝐗 ❥ 𝐗-𝐑𝐀𝐘: Tomura is a (huge) 6.5 in/16.51 cm flaccid dick, and when erect, it can range between 7.5 in/19.05cm to 8.0 in/20.32 cm at most.

𝐘 ❥ 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: (Yearning as in sex drive.) Exclusively high sex drive, not through the roof, but definitely "up there."

𝐙 ❥ 𝐙𝐳𝐳: Doesn't sleep (often) afterwards, too energetic or it, unless it's during the day, I guess. Like, after staying up for the whole night, fucking when you wake up and then going to bed.

my darling blue can i please get C and U for yandere!shigaraki? (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

hi cutie pie! of course u can :3 shiggy changes a lot over the course of the manga so how he acts in early lov days vs plf/war days is very different. i'm gunna write for both!

tw: abuse, degradation, character development and angst, dollification? he picks out clothes for you. i always write tomura like an asshole.

link to the yandere alphabet

c - cruelty

i think tomu in the early days of the lov was very cruel. he was mean and he wasn't afraid to get physical. he would say nasty things to you any time you didn't do exactly what he wanted. really no matter what you did or how you did it, he would throw out words like bitch, whore, and slut. he would throw things around his room when he was upset. he couldn't touch you to hurt you without possibly dusting you, but the shit in his room was free game to throw. he was angry and vitriolic. he was a 19 year old man child. he wasn't afraid to keep you chained up until your wrists bled.

as he matured he regretted these actions deeply. he wishes he could knock some sense into himself back then. sometimes he has a hard time looking at you when he remembers what he did. now, he's relatively gentle with you. his touches and commands are firm, but he doesn't raise his voice anymore. he would do anything to make you less afraid of him. it's all his fault.

that got serious! moving on.

u - unique

tomura likes to dress you up. he's embarrassed about it in a way. he throws clothes at you and snaps at you to put them on with his face bright red. they aren't even fancy dresses or dolly stuff- they're comfy pink pajamas. all the clothes he makes you wear are comfortable and soft but very much discord-kitten. he likes seeing you in pjs to fulfill that willing girlfriend fantasy he has.

SHIGARAKI NSFW ALPHABET

{ gift for my beautiful wife ~ @nutsnhonie }

warnings || smut, asphyxiation, fear play, blood kink, marking, rough sex, biting, vouyerism, {more,, but i cant rly think of what to put}

{an: wife wife wife wife wife wife}

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

he cant do much honestly, due to his quirk, but he will hand you things like a wet rag,, water bottle,, etc. even though he is an asshole, he still cares about you.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

his favorite is your hair, since he cant harm that by touching it. but from afar his favorite is definitely your thighs.

on HIMSELF,, he doesnt like much. though he is proud of his dick for some reason,,,

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

he doesn't cum as much as the others, but he still fills you up, hence the name "creampie"

will almost always do it inside of you.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he definitely watches you masturbate, or watches you while HE masturbates. plug a lil weird but he chill,,

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

hes fucked hookers, or anyone the was willing, but he never cared for them or cared if they finished or not. therefore he is more experienced in HIS job at it. not so much the other things.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

doggy style. though he holds your hips like a british person and their teacup, its still his favorite position.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

doesnt find humor attractive during sex. therefore he is definitely the serious type.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

he has a good amount of hair, but keeps it maintained. same color as the hair on his head and has a niiiceee happy trail.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

not very romantic, but does love you. will probably be romanticish AFTER the sex. still cant fathom the fact that you want him.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

does it when you arent there. when he is really pent up with stress from either a mission or something else, then he will find different ways to touch himself. just wants to get off a few times.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

asphyxiation, blood play, the usual. he definitely likes choking you to the best of his abilities without actually killing you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

his room, though anywhere you want him to fuck you he totally will.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

you in general, but theres just something about seeing you covered in blood that sparks a match in him.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

coprophilia or anything nasty like that.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

prefers giving, seeing it as his best way of getting you off. his chapped lips definitely make the job easier. he does enjoy receiving though as most people do.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

fast and rough definitely. will only slow down if you beg him too.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

absolutely. he loves taking risks of someone catching you. also if he is in a time crunch he will.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

this is Shigaraki we are talking about. of course he will. enjoys inflicting pain on you, risking being caught, etc

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

for him around 4, but thats just for him. if he is going down on you than it doesnt matter. he can go as long as you need him too. gets him out of team things anyways.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

has a few small vibrators that he collected for you. mainly for when he isnt there, though he definitely doesn't mind using them during sex with you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

teasing is almost constant with him. he enjoys watching you squirm and watching your face flush up with embarrassment.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

aside from grunts and huffs, he doesnt make much noise. if you manage to get him in a submissive manner {unlikely} then he will whine from overstimulation.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

absolutely into marking. likes licking blood from cuts he inflicts on you, or marking you with hickeys or bites. another one would be fear play. enjoys watching you squirm with fear as he pretends like he is about to actually touch you fully.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

his torso and arms are toned and he is littered with scars from either fighting or missions. his dick is around 7-8 inches hard, with a slightly darker tip than his skin.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

most likely high from all the pent up anger, but wont force himself on you. {maybe in another fic....}

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

will wait for you to fall asleep until he does, but sometimes he doesnt sleep at all after.

hope you like,,, im not used to his character much since i left the fandom a while ago.

{ made by @whokilledsamara }

Toys (NSFW)

Tomura Shigaraki x AFAB Reader

Tags: PiV, Use of Vibrator, Overstimulation, Squirting, Unprotected Sex, Pre-Established Relationship, Slight Dacryphilia

WC: 1.5k

"C’mon…don’t cry…let’s do it again…”

Sex with Tomura is amazing. Truly, it really is! Although he can be very rough in bed, he’ll always make sure your comfortable and enjoying yourself. If you ask him to change positions, he’ll always shuffle around just for you, even if he’s grumbling under his breath about how needy you are.

He’s an amazing partner in bed. Really…it’s just that…

More than half the time, he can never make you cum during sex.

That doesn’t mean the sex isn't good! No, of course not! It’s amazing! His cock curves so sweetly into your hot cunny, rubbing up into that squishy spot just a few inches deep inside you. And he loves to pound into you like his life depends on it, his heavy balls slapping against your ass / clit depending on your position, and his fingers so tenderly rub against your aching clit, causing your sweet little pussy to clench around him…

But it’s never enough

In the end, once he finishes, he’d have to use his long slender fingers to plunge inside you, desperately finger fucking you into oblivion until you cum. He doesn’t care if you cry and sob against his fingers, begging ‘Please! No more! ‘s too much!’  with your sweet little voice, he’s determined to make you cum.

Whenever you fail to cum during sex, he always seems so grumpy. So mad and upset at himself for failing you. It’s gotten so bad that he’d even end up scratching at his poor neck until it bleeds, beating himself up for disappointing you. All of this makes your heart ache, and eventually, you bring up the prospect of using toys during the bedroom.

When you first bring this up, he stays silent during the conversation, his mind whirring with different thoughts.

Were you seriously thinking of replacing him for some silicone dick? Was he not enough? Were you that unhappy with your sex lives? Would you break up with him? How fucking dare you try and replace him?! He was going to fucking kill-

Before his thoughts delved deeper into hatred and despair you quickly explained to him that no, this wasn’t a way to replace him, and that you were happy with your sex life. The conversation lasted a long time, the both of you sharing your opinions and thoughts on the matter.

Tomura was blunt about his thoughts on the matter. He refused to let you bring any dildo’s or toys that would require any sort of insertion into the bedroom. No, that was his job, only he belonged deep inside your weeping cunt, not some plastic toy.

He also didn’t want any toys to be used on him either. He was already upset about bringing in toys to begin with, so even bringing up using toys on him would cause him to start scratching his neck.

Eventually, the both of you reached a conclusion. You’d go out together, and buy whatever toy would suit his merit and your needs. 

When the day finally came to go shopping, you were absolutely buzzing with excitement! Not only would you be able to go shopping for something for your sex lives, but also you’d be able to spend time and help Tomura understand your needs.

Entering the sex shop hand in hand, you dragged Tomura towards the first few toys you saw, holding them up and explaining their function to him. At first, he didn’t really pay attention, his eyes darting throughout the store, his body stiff and his hands constantly coming up to tug the black hoodie further down his face.

You weren’t too sure if he was embarrassed, or maybe paranoid of being recognized, but eventually he managed to calm down enough to actually help you browse throughout the store. He scowled at every dildo or phallic item you passed, and he even spent a few seconds gazing at the wall of monster dildos in the corner.

For a moment, he imagined you struggling to take such a monstrous cock, and how your pretty little cunny would squelch and cry at such a big size. But he quickly pushed those thoughts away.

Eventually, after spending around an hour or so of browsing, you both decided on what you thought was the most basic purchase, yet best item you could have gotten. A hitachi wand.

As you two warped back, you spent the first few hours unpacking and letting the wand charge completely. Once it was finished, you took it back to Tomura’s room, holding it up like a prized possession as you spoke.

“Let’s try it out now!”

As you laid on your back, your legs spread wide as Tomura stood between them, his cock sliding between your puffy folds. Your slick mixed with his pre, your body buzzing with lust and excitement. Tomura grabbed the base of his cock, slowly sliding it down your slit until the tip of his cock nudged your eager hole.

You sighed in relief as he slowly pushed in, the head of his cock sliding in with a small squelch as you reached over the bed to grab the vibrator. You could see his lips twitch into a small frown, but he didn’t comment on your actions as he bottomed out.

Once you felt the familiar slide of his cock moving inside you, you turned on the vibrator, the buzzing noise causing his hips to stutter as he pulled back far enough to watch you place the bulbous head against your clit.

Instantly, a breathy curse escaped your lips, eyes fluttering shut as your hips bucked up in response to the intense vibrations against your needy bud. You could hear Tomura whimper from above you, his hips beginning to move as he spoke.

“Oh fuck…I-I can feel it even when i’m inside you…”

From above, Tomura felt chills of pleasure run down his spine. Everytime he moved, he could feel his cock buzzing from the pleasure, and everytime he pulled out far enough, the force of the vibrations would go straight to his tip. He groaned, his cock twitching as he moved faster, your slick causing his light blue pubes to stick together, a small string connecting the both of your bodies every time he moved away.

You could feel your pussy begin to drool, your tits bouncing with every hard thrust of his hips. His grunts became louder from above you, his hands coming up to grip at your thighs, the plush flesh pooling out of his fingers as he rammed himself deeper into you.

“Fuck…you feel so fuckin’ good…hah…so tight, you gonna cum already?”

You didn’t even notice the way your cunt so desperately clung to his cock, the coil in your stomach forming so quickly you could only babble a whiny ‘yes’ as you pressed the vibrating head even harder against your clit.

Your throat burned as you screamed out in pleasure, your orgasm ripping through you in multiple waves, both the vibrator and his cock drawing it out until you were nearly crying. You pulled the vibrator away from your overstimulated clit, gasping out as he grasped your wrist and forced the toy back against your nub.

You yelped, a searing pain that felt way too good suddenly coursing through you, your body squirming under him as you sobbed in response to his actions.

“No! Aagh! Tom-Tomura! W-wait wait wait! It's too much!”

He giggled from above you, a breathy moan escaping him as his hand pressed the toy against you even harder as he spoke in a dark tone, his hips stuttering against your pulsing cunny.

“Fuckk…feels so good baby…I can feel the vibrator against my cock-shit! Oh god…mhn…just a bit more..!”

You couldn’t stop the tears from falling from your face, your clit burning from overstimulation and pain. It felt so painful but with every second the vibrator was held firm on your clit the more you could feel another tight coil forming, ready to burst once again.

But this one was different.

Your legs began to tremble involuntarily, loud sobs escaping your throat as your cunny began pulsing against his cock in an almost painful vice. You didn’t even notice the sudden gush of liquid that squirted out of you, hitting Tomura’s pelvis and forcing his cock out of your gushing hole due to the intense pleasure of your second orgasm.

Tomura groaned in surprise as a sudden force caused his cock to pull away, watching as your sweet little cunny quivered and pulsed as you squirted against him, the strong yet short stream eventually dying down to a dribble, falling onto a pool of your fluids beneath you.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight, and only after a few moments of staring, laughter began to bubble up in his chest, leaving his mouth in small manic giggles as he trailed his eyes back to your face.

Oh, what a beautiful sight you were. All sweaty, flushed and wrecked. Fat salty tears escaping your eyes as you shook, small pretty sobs escaping your lips as you laid out all blissed out and messy.

He leaned down to lick the salty tears off your face, his cock pulsing and throbbing with eagerness as he grinded against your sloppy pussy.

“Oh fuck…that was so fucking hot…holy shit..eheh…c’mon…don’t cry…let’s do it again…”

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✿ ͡ ݂ You'll Be Twice As Fucked In Another Life ﹗!

Summary:

Boys are no strangers to those unpleasant urges that make them want to act on impulse, though they're commonly taught to control it. Puberty isn't exactly hard unless you have no guidance. But when you're someone like Tomura, who is there to guide you? He's your typical incel on the internet; too awkward in real life to speak to a girl so he shits all over the ones he comes into contact with. Those r/misogyny posts on Reddit give him a hard-on regardless of how helpful some of his female colleagues are in the League. To him, women, or as he likes to call them "manholes" have one purpose: to be used as anyone else sees fit. You were just lucky enough to become his first victim, but he doesn't think he'll be getting rid of you anytime soon. You're too headstrong and he likes to crush your will.

Notes:

this is my first a03 post ever...

if it's bad you can't tell me- jk

Attention

MDNI

Tomura Shigaraki x gn/afab reader

Content/Warnings/Etc: Reader is in the League of Villains, swearing, kissing, uh sex happens.

the world is a lot today, and over 72 million people can suck my dick. hope this helps distract someone at least a little bit

Tomura Shigaraki always wanted attention. He wanted the world to see him. He needed everyone to know what he's capable of. But on a personal level, one to one, he's never considered what that would look like. 

That's why he's surprised to find his favorite box of cereal in the kitchen after your recent grocery trip. 

“Do you like this one too?” he asks casually. 

“It's good, but I got it for you. That's the one you like right?”

“Yeah..” he trails off while pouring himself a bowl. Eyes tracking you in his periphery, more suspicious than the situation necessitates. 

Of course you knew what cereal he would want, why wouldn't you? It's the subtly sweet ones that have flavor but aren't overwhelming. And the pieces are small enough for him to open his mouth slightly without re-splitting his cracked lips. He picks the same cereal to eat nearly every day if it’s an option, you think anyone would have noticed that. 

Later that day, you settle down on the couch to play video games and call him over. Grabbing a random controller for yourself, you hand him the one he likes. The one with the grips that stick a little easier for him to hold without using all of his fingers. He can use the others, absolutely. But after an hour or so the way he shakes his hands out tells you his fingers cramp more.

To you, this was obvious. You didn't think anything of it. 

But for him, no one ever notices these things. Surely, this must be a coincidence. Right? 

That evening, it shouldn't come as a surprise to him when you pass in the hallway, observing him once more as you walk back to your room in a towel after showering. 

“Your shirt is inside out,” you inform him.

“Oh,” he mumbles, choosing to correct the issue immediately. 

Of course you notice the way his abs ripple as he slides the fabric over his head. How couldn’t you?

Your eyes linger too long and he catches you staring. Only now does he realize these coincidences aren’t coincidental at all, he has your full attention. And he doesn’t know what to do with that.

The two of you stand nearly still, switching between heavy eye contact and glances at each other’s bodies. Both growing more flustered by the minute. It’s as good of an invitation as you’re going to get: after what feels like too long, you break the tension by stepping towards him. Pulling him tightly into your arms before smashing your lips into his with the force of months of longing. There’s a momentary pause as he adjusts to your touch before he kisses you back. You would feel a little bad being so rough with his already cracked skin, but he makes no attempts to pull away. Your combined spit softening his chapped lips as the kiss deepens.

A creak echoes down the hallway, he yanks you into his room - decaying your towel in the process.

“Fuck,” he exclaims under his breath while staring you up and down. 

You’d ask if he likes what he sees, but his facial expressions and the tent growing in his sweatpants already gave him away. Your lips find his again as you shove him back on his bed, climbing over his lap. Immediately, you yank off his sweatpants and underwear. You’re already naked so it’s only fair.

You notice the way he presses into you. Back arching, hips jumping in response to your touch. His arms pull you close as he grinds you against him. Palms pressed hard into your shoulder blades with his fingers tightly tucked into fists. He increases the friction, sliding your wetness over his length as you get more and more turned on. 

One thing you hadn’t correctly predicted: you’re not the one in control here. You half assumed he’d be a little clueless about sex. That he’d cream in his pants from a light breeze but here he is, completely naked dragging you over him and you’re about to reach an orgasm first. 

“Just like that, I’m gonna cum,” you exclaim, breath staggering while you grip his hair harder.  He groans at the pull, but continues moving his hips into you in an almost calculated way. Shaking legs and pussy fluttering around nothing, you feel yourself release against him.

“What the fuck,” you moan into his neck while catching your breath, “didn’t think you had that in you.” 

“I guess you’ll have to pay more attention,” he grins before rolling you onto the bed. Quickly, he moves to a box on the shelf over his desk, pulling out a smaller box.

“You just keep those around?” you ask, eyeing the condom he’s putting on. Even more surprises.

“Uh, not quite,” he mumbles, paying more attention to the task at hand. “The rest of the league got me these as a joke when you joined, I just never threw them out.”

How did everyone notice your crush but him? It seems like they tried to tell him but he regarded it suspiciously, assuming everyone was just fucking with him. 

Doesn’t matter, you decide, he definitely knows now.

Seeing him, all of him fully, in front of you takes your already jagged breath away. Fully clothed, Tomura is beautiful. This is overwhelming. The light mist of sweat coating his skin makes the glow from his monitor reflect off the curves of his muscles. Every scar and scratch looking like it was perfectly placed, even if you know the extent he goes to to keep most of them covered on a daily basis. You cup his cheek, brushing your thumb lightly over his tender skin while he moves back over you.

“This is okay, right?” he double checks as he presses his tip into you, still dripping from earlier.

“Yeah,” you stare down, watching as he slides further in. 

“Look at me.” 

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. Instantly, you bring your gaze up to meet his. Blood red eyes stare back into yours, watching your expression shift as he inches deeper into you. Prior to this, he’d always looked away when your eyes lingered too long. Now, you feel like you could get lost in him. He’s everything you see, feel, and hear. Even the subtle smell of him surrounds you.

The mood shifts as you begin passionately kissing again. Before you know it, he’s pounding into you relentlessly, every thrust buzzing through your body. 

Making the same face as earlier, he knows you’re close. He tries to maintain the pace, but as soon as you’re clenching around him, he's done for. Your orgasms peak simultaneously as he slams you harder into the bed. Legs wrapping around his back, shoving him as deep as he can go. 

“Fuck, y/n,” he groans into your ear before you both become a puddle of bodies on his bed.

A few minutes later, he looks so peaceful. His eyes closed, breathing steady. You’ve never seen him so relaxed.

Quietly, you whisper, “I’ll be right back with some towels and water, stay here.” Taking some of his clothes to replace the towel he dusted earlier, you shuffle out the door. 

Yeah, he thought to himself, he could definitely get used to your attention.

more shigaraki here: m.list

Love Spell

Summary: He knows he’s got you hook, line and sinker by the way you bite your lip and make room for him between your legs. It’s so desperate it almost disgusts him.  You are Shigaraki's biggest fan and he wants to break you.  Cw: Tomura shigaraki x female reader, slight yandere reader, shigaraki has a hero kink, mean shigaraki, degradation, choking, spit kink, dumbification, pro hero reader, traitor hero reader, controlling/possessive shigaraki, dacryphillia, intercrural, unhealthy relationships, begging, praise, mdni wc: 3.3k | crossposted to ao3

You feel dirty. 

You feel dirty, cold and disgusting every time you do this, but you just couldn’t stop. 

You can’t remember when it started or who made the first move on who, but it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you’re here now, under him as he leers over you, grin wild and wicked knowing he’s got you right where he wants you. 

“What’s going on in there, hero?” Shigaraki questions you, his body towering over you as his legs straddle your thighs. 

You know better than to lie to him. 

“N-nothing.” You meekly reply hoping he’ll be satisfied with your answer and move on. 

He brings a hand down, holding your cheeks together and you wish he would lean down, get closer, give you more. “That’s right,” his voice is low and filled with amusement, “nothing going on in that dumb little brain of yours.”

This time you whimper, thighs pressing together to hide your arousal. It would only be dragged out more if he knew how much his words turned you on. 

“Stupid little hero. What are you here for?”

“Y-you.” You squeeze through pressed cheeks. 

The answer does not satisfy him this time. “What about me?”

“Your cock. I came here for your coc— ah!” Your words are cut short as he flips you over, cheeks mushing into his dark pillow. 

Shigaraki wastes no time disintegrating your shorts and dragging your underwear down playfully slow. 

It drives you mad. 

“No! No— Shigaraki, I-I want to see your face, please!” You beg and it would be pathetic to your own ears if you weren’t so horny. 

The low rumble of his chuckle has arousal pooling in your belly and you can almost feel the slick sliding down your cunt. 

“You want to see my face?” He mimics and you nod as best you could with your face pressed down. “Well, since you asked so nicely.”

And you’re back on your back, sigh of relief falling from your lips as you meet Shigaraki’s red gaze. 

He leans forward and you feel your heart rate rise, his hair brushing your cheek as he whispers in your ear, “but don’t think this means I’ll go soft on you, hero.”

You nod, uncaring and wanting nothing but him — too smitten by his proximity to really care how he treats you. 

His smile should insight fear, make you curl away and run, but it only spurs on the warm feeling in your chest even more. 

He knows he’s got you hook, line and sinker by the way you bite your lip and make room for him between your legs. 

It’s so desperate it almost disgusts him. 

You are Shigaraki's biggest fan and he wants to break you. 

A hero is still a hero, traitor or not. But there’s nothing in the rules against using the prettiest one he’s ever seen for his own benefit. Especially when she becomes such a loyal puppy for him in his bed. 

He pulls down his own pants, cock red and leaking at the ordeal and the sight of it makes you reach forward. You want to take him into your hand and take care of him yourself but he stops you, slapping your hand away in disgust. 

“Don’t touch me.” He hisses, eyes filled with vitriol and anger. You nod and lean back, waiting eagerly for him to touch you. 

It’s never the other way around — Shigaraki has made that clear more than once. 

He lazily drags a finger between your folds, the touch making your hips jump forward in surprise. You’re so wet the slide is easy. 

“Whatcha’ so wet for, slut?” He questions slowly pressing his index finger into your sopping cunt, forcing a moan from your throat. His finger reaches deep and it has you gasping, fighting with everything you could to refrain from fucking yourself on it. 

You knew better. If you tried to take more than he offered, he would take it away. 

So it’s to your delight when Shigaraki takes pity on you and pushes a second digit in, dropping the rest of his body down to lap at the sensitive area of your neck. 

You moan unabashedly, glee of the stretch making you dizzy, but it doesn’t end there.

Shigaraki takes his time, gliding his fingers in and out of your cunt, searching diligently for that sweet spot inside that drove you mad. He presses deeper, pulling a gasp from you as he finds exactly what he’s looking for, abusing the spongy spot as he sucks dark bruises into the column of your neck. 

The push and pull is intoxicating and you feel the warmth in your abdomen spread as the feelings become more and more intense. Shigaraki nips at your neck, the sharp pain pulling your focus back to his ministrations and you chance tangling your fingers in his ashen locks. 

He allows it, you can even feel the small grin sneaking onto his face and you’re sure you’ve done the right thing. 

You should have known better. 

Tomura takes your distraction in stride, pressing a thumb to your sensitive clit and massaging it along with his other movements. The pressure is so intense you almost fall apart then and there.

Almost.

Shigaraki has shown you time and time again that nothing is ever easy. He wouldn’t let you cum so soon — and he doesn’t. No, he takes his fingers away from you and sits back, taking in the sight of your ruined orgasm. 

“You didn’t think I'd let you go that easy, did you?” His grin is wicked as you writhe below him, forcing yourself not to reach down and finish the job on your own. 

“N-no.” Your response is meek, but he enjoys it. Shigaraki leans down, face so close and you feel lost in his carmine eyes — you can’t help yourself when it happens. 

You lean forward to kiss him, feeling captivated by his gaze and Tomura swiftly turns his head, avoiding your lips and leaving you high and dry.

He scoffs, pulling away once more to give you a halfhearted glare. “No, thanks, hero.”

Begging was on the tip of your tongue, only stopped by Shigaraki hoisting one of your legs over his shoulder, putting your cunt on full display for his eyes only. 

The chill of the room made you shiver, but you didn’t dare shy away from him. 

“Such a pretty cunt, such a pretty girl. Too bad you’re a dumb little hero.” His hand is uncharacteristically gentle as he rubs your smooth thigh. 

His words pull a whine from your throat, eagerness getting the better of you as you stir, ready for anything else he would give you. 

Shigaraki grabs your other leg, throwing it over his shoulder as well while his cock rests on your pelvis.

It’s thick and heavy on your abdomen, already leaking precum onto your stomach and near your navel. You feel the heat pool between your legs at the thought of his cock bruising your insides with its girth. The thought is electrifying and you squirm under his touch.

Shigaraki seems to finally take some pity on you as he starts to thrust, pressing your thighs together. They are soft and plush under his grip and he moans at the friction. 

You can’t beg him, if he knows you want him inside he’ll just continue to fuck your thighs, cumming all over your stomach while he lectures you about patience — leaving you horny and unsatisfied.

So you wait, allowing him to fuck your thighs while you watch his eyes close and sparse brows furrow at the sensation. 

He gets lost in the feeling and looks down at you, his ruby red gaze pulling you into a trace. “You want me to cum like this?” He asks through thrusts. 

You don’t, but you know he just might if you tell him that. 

“Y-yes. Whatever you want.” You hope he believes you. 

Shigaraki’s lids lowered, the unamusement plain on his face and you know you’ve fucked up. 

“Liar.” He spits and you whimper. “Fine, I’ll give it to you, just stop looking at me with those eyes.”

He spreads your legs once more and kneads the sensitive parts of your inner thighs. It makes you cry out. 

“Shut up,” he spits, sneer on his mouth as he straightens up, sliding his cock between your wet folds and pumping it with your slick. “Before I really give you something to cry about.”

You worry your lip, tired of the game and downright sick of the waiting. 

“You know what,” he ponders as he lines the thick head of his cock with with your entrance, “I just might.” 

His smile is wicked as he gives you no time to mull over his words, instead choosing to fill you completely and suddenly, the ache of the stretch makes you cry out, eyes pressed shut at the intrusion. 

“What?” he questions, wasting no time setting a heavy pace, hips pulling back only to snap forward, shoving his cock further into your soft walls. “Thought you wanted it, hero?”

You reach a hand back, gripping the pillow beside your head as you try to hold on to your tears. The throb of the stretch was nothing compared to the rough rhythm the villain set. You couldn’t hold your cries in if you tried, but you knew Shigaraki would only try to make them louder. 

“Yeah, that's it,” he murmurs, steady pace rocking you against the bed with a force that slowly drives you up towards his headboard, “cry for me.”  

Tomura’s red gaze is locked on yours as he drags his hand up your body and to your breast, cupping them with a gentle squeeze. You moan out at the action and gasp as he tweaks a perky nipple between his forefinger and thumb. 

He slowly moves his hand up further, reaching the column of your neck as he failed to hide his grin. 

His hand is large as it wraps around your neck, four fingers down and one dangerously close. It was close enough to make you sweat. It was a threat. Don’t move too much or I’ll slip, he would tell you. It scared you to your core but god it turned you on, too. 

You gasp at the feeling, fear furthering your dizzy pleasure.

“Open your mouth.” Shigaraki commands, and you oblige — eager to please. “Stick your tongue out.” You do, causing him to chuckle. 

“You look fucking stupid.” He leans over sticking his own tongue out and you watch as the slick clear spit drips from his tongue down into your mouth.  

“Swallow it.” His words are sharp and you do as you are told, hoping that maybe he would give you a reward, but he doesn’t — you receive only a dark laugh in return. “Nasty bitch.” 

His words are filled with vitriol, but you feel the way his cock twitches inside of you. Shigaraki closes his eyes, pounding into you as his fingers press onto your neck. 

The pressure makes you gasp, vision going blurry. 

Shigaraki can’t help it, he can’t help the way your pretty cries fizzle out when he presses too tightly or holds on for a little too long. Deep down, he feels like you deserve it. It's his own special way of knocking you down a peg — of knocking all heroes down in more ways than one. 

You can tell he is getting lost in it by the way his rhythm is smooth and he has the perfect amount of pressure on your neck that makes your brain fuzzy and makes you see stars. 

But what he doesn’t know is that he’s driving into you so good and it’s making your eyes roll back with the way the head of his cock brushes against your sensitive spot inside. It doesn’t help that he's only picked up the pace, mistaking your silent cries for overstimulation. 

He’s hitting it over and over again, each brush sending jolts of pleasure up your spine and try as you may but you just can’t keep holding on. 

Tears build in your eyes, threatening to spill over as you realize you won't last much longer. The pressure inside of you was getting tighter and tighter as your thighs began to squeeze around his waist. 

You’re close.

So close and you can’t stop it when it happens — your brows furrow as your thighs tense at the sensation.

You’re about to cum and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

You can’t even make a sound because Shigaraki is squeezing your throat again and that’s all it takes. It pushes you over, back arching as waves of pleasure shoot through your body. 

The feeling is so good and you can't stop the tears from escaping now, body in a state of extended euphoria as your lungs struggle to inhale more air into them. 

It's an accident, an honest accident that you couldn’t have stopped if you tried, but you know the man above you would never see it that way. 

“Did you— did you just cum on my cock?” You can see the anger through the lust in his eyes as he slows his pace down to a much more shallow thrust. It makes you shiver. 

“Yes! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Shigaraki—“

“God, you’re such a slut.” He huffs, like this ordeal was no more than a mere inconvenience instead of a mind numbing orgasm. 

You feel relieved, fully believing he would not punish you for something you couldn’t control.

You’re wrong. 

In an instant, Shigaraki pulls out, flipping you onto your stomach and caging you beneath him. 

“You feel so needy, right?” he questions, pulling a whine from your throat, “Needy girls just want to cum don’t they? You don’t need to see my face.”

At this, you feel the thick press of two fingers sinking into your cunt, the slick from your orgasm making them slide in with ease as the smooth feeling of Shigaraki’s digits bring tears to your eyes. 

“I do, Shigaraki, please—” you start, ready to beg for his forgiveness. You would do anything to get him to fuck you within an inch of your life again, “A-Ah—!”

He wastes no time in continuing his attack on your sensitive walls, pulling a cry from your throat as you writhe from the overstimulation. You've already cum once and the added pressure of his fingers pinpointing your sweet spot is only driving you closer and closer to another one. 

Your mind feels muddled as you have no choice but to lay there and take the pace Shigaraki has set with his fingers, the rising pleasure making your toes curl as even more tears fall from your eyes and onto his dark pillow. 

“Yeah, that’s it.” he murmurs, loving the submission you’ve given him. 

Shigaraki presses down on your back, pinky carefully raised as he his other hand goes in and out, pace ruthlessly steady as he pulls you towards another climax. 

Overstimulated and crying, you are only along for the ride as Shigaraki forces another orgasm from your already wracked body, the slick juices coating his fingers and feeding the fuel to his fire. 

“Oh, fuck.” he breathes, riding out your climax as you cry into his pillow, it feels electric as he carries you through it. 

You can’t help the next words that leave your lips, too intoxicated by the ongoing pleasure given to you by the man above. 

“I’m sorry, Tomura!” you blubber, tears blinding your vision as you gasp for air. You're drooling on the pillow and ruining his sheets but you can't stop — it just feels too good. “I love you!”

Tomura is behind you, caging you on the bed, his warm tongue licking the tears from your cheeks. “You love me? Well, isn't that cute.” 

He doesn’t say it back, he never says it back but you tell him anyway. What else could this overwhelming need for him be called?

He doesn’t give you a second to breathe as he flips you back over and slides back in — picking back up on his aggressive pace while you fight to stay coherent. 

He’s fucking you so hard and so deep you barely register the crown of your head knocking against the headboard from his thrusts. 

“The pretty, dumb little hero is in love with the villain, hm?”

You’re openly crying, the tears flowing freely as you writhe from overstimulation. 

“But it’s okay. I’ll guide you — I’ll help you.” He rants on, thrusts only getting rougher. “I’ll show you how much the heroes don’t care about you — I’ll educate you. Teach you a lesson.” 

You’re whining, keening high and needy as you feel your next orgasm approaching. 

“You want that? Want me to fuck you stupid and bring you to my side?”

You nod, desperately chasing your high again. 

Shigaraki is amused. “Or maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll just get you pregnant and leave you. Tell your little hero friends you got knocked up by a villain, hm?” He’s close to your ear, his hair tickles as it fans over your cheek.

You didn't care what he asked of you at this point, you were inches away from your third peak of the night and you would agree to walk with him into hell if it meant he would make you see those stars again. 

“Yeah,” he mutters to himself, having reached a conclusion, “I think you’ll make a good example.”

You feel caught in a trance as Shigaraki continues his pace, eyes locked on yours as his mischievous grin widens. He loves to see you broken and needy. But you knew, deep down, he would never stop calling you to his bed, no matter how many times he’s threatened you. 

His eyes close, getting lost in the pleasure as his strokes begin to stutter and become uneven.

“Gonna cum — where do you want it?” His sparse brows furrowed as he pistons into you. 

“Inside, inside!” You beg and it’s a mistake. 

Tomura would never give you what you want. 

He pulls out at the last second, pumping his cock and sighing in relief as he spurts rope after rope of milky white right onto your cunt. A few of the solid streaks hit your clit and make you jolt from its pressure.

You should have known he wouldn’t listen to your pleas.. 

He leaves you high and dry, cunt pulsing around nothing as you cum for the third time tonight. It would have upset you more if he hadn’t wrecked you so thoroughly beforehand. 

Shigaraki watches as you come down from your high, eyes glossy as the tears on your cheeks begin to dry. You couldn’t move if you wanted to and you’re thankful he hasn’t kicked you out yet.

No, he does something that shocks even you from your blissed out stupor. 

Shigaraki leans down and captures your lips in a deep, chaste kiss. One that goes no further than a press of the lips but sends your heart racing. 

He pulls back only a sliver and then you see it. 

It's only a flash, and then it's gone again. 

You notice the way his eyes soften ever-so-slightly as he pulls away further.

Lust, want, longing. 

Shigaraki can lie to himself as much as he wants to, but you know the truth.

Love is not the opposite of hate and there is such a thin line between the two.

Tomura Shigaraki is not immune to raw emotion, no matter how much he claims to be.

So you lie there, catching your breath and knowing he would make you leave soon, but knowing he would call you back all the same. 

But it's okay — you would keep chipping away at his resolve in the meantime. 

You know that it’s only a matter of time until he cracks.

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

Honestly...both blue fire, both crazy because if dads..one burn himself the other could but don't (1pts for azula) one shot litteral thunder..(2pts for azula)..azula win

very curious to see these answers so....

Rb for larger sample size

Like bro imagine soemone shipped an adult version of Eri with Overhall..

Alright so..it is personnal i don't ship shame but i'm sorry but shipping Tomura and Afo is litteraly not okay. Bro raised groomed and ruin Tomura's life like..what ? Like litteraly what ?!

Alright so..it is personnal i don't ship shame but i'm sorry but shipping Tomura and Afo is litteraly not okay. Bro raised groomed and ruin Tomura's life like..what ? Like litteraly what ?!

hands-off, hands-on - a shigaraki x f!reader fic

This was inspired by this art and a comment left on it about the risks of trying to jerk off with a quirk like Decay. It was also inspired by @obsessedtomone and @scarlettcryptid, who encouraged me to write it and then to post it. The pun in the title was my idea and not their fault.

Shigaraki's quirk makes life difficult in a lot of ways, but there's only one he can't find a way around, and since you joined the League of Villains, it's gotten even worse. When the truth comes out at last, he's expecting it to be a disaster and nothing else. He definitely isn't expecting you to offer to help. (cross-posted to Ao3) Canonverse, one-shot, smut.

Shigaraki Tomura’s quirk is everything to him. It’s how he found himself alone in the world as a five-year-old, even if he can’t remember the details. It’s why Sensei took an interest in him, why Sensei took him in, why Sensei chose him to carry on his work. It’s the perfect tool for someone like Shigaraki, who hates everything, who wants nothing more than to destroy everything he doesn’t like. Decay is the best thing that’s ever happened to Shigaraki. And at the same time, it absolutely, categorically sucks.

Shigaraki might hate everything, but he doesn’t hate it all the time, and the times when he doesn’t hate it are times when he’d love to be able to just have whatever it is without being one wrong move away from ruining it. Name a thing he likes, and his quirk is ready and waiting to fuck it up – gaming, eating, sleeping, even reading the fucking newspaper. He can do all those things four-fingered, if he stays focused. It’s the stuff he can’t stay focused on that’s impossible.

He can’t stay focused when he’s horny, at least not enough to keep from potentially Decaying his dick off. Shigaraki doesn’t actually know if his quirk works on himself, and he’s not interested in finding out. And that means that no matter how horny Shigaraki gets or how many poorly timed boners he pops, jerking off is permanently off the table.

That’s not to say Shigaraki’s never finished. He has. He’s spent so much time humping pillows that he had to learn to do his own laundry. But there’s something really pathetic about being twenty years old with two working hands and still be stuck grinding on a pillow to make himself come, and it always takes so stupidly long. Now that Shigaraki’s got the League of Villains, now that he’s got plans to make and Sensei’s legacy to fulfill, he doesn’t have that kind of time. When he wakes up with the world’s worst morning wood after a dream he doesn’t remember clearly, there’s nothing he can do but wait for it to go away.

It fades – enough – but the feeling doesn’t, and eventually Shigaraki doesn’t have a choice but to drag himself out of bed. He slinks from his room to the bar, hoping it’ll be empty, with the rest of the League out and about preparing for the mission and Kurogiri somewhere nearby if Shigaraki needs him but not actually right there to ask him what’s bothering him. Shigaraki can pour his own drinks. Maybe he can get out of this if he gives himself whiskey dick on purpose. Kurogiri’s not in the bar, just like he was hoping, but it’s not empty, either. You’re there, sprawled out over the bar with a sweating glass of water on a coaster in front of you.

Shigaraki’s jaw clenches at the sight. “What are you doing here?” he demands, and you look up. “Don’t you have something to do?”

“I did it already.” You yawn. “Using my quirk tires me out.”

“Really?” Shigaraki can’t keep the irritation out of his voice. “Making people stupid is that exhausting?”

Your quirk is a weird one. It lets you increase or decrease a target’s ability to plan, reason, problem-solve, remember things, and learn – in other words, their intelligence. “From this distance, for as many people as you need me to hit?” You yawn again and drop your head back down to the bar. “Yeah. Remember, I have to keep them all being stupid the same way, right up until it’s too late. Or your plan won’t work.”

Shigaraki had the pieces of the plan before he made you use your quirk on him, but once you used the quirk on him, he did some fine-tuning on the strategy, and he came up with the idea of using your quirk the opposite way, too. While the rest of the League is planning to make the attack on UA’s summer training camp a success, you’re using your quirk every day on the heroes in charge of planning the camp itself. Shigaraki’s not actually going to know if it works until after the attack, and that pisses him off. “Go nap somewhere else, then.”

“I’m not going to bother you,” you say. “Where else am I supposed to go, anyway? Your room?”

Shigaraki’s this close to saying yes, just to get you to leave, before he remembers what his room looks like – and remembers that he spent a while trying to see if grinding one out would work this time. He can’t kick you out of the hideout. You look like shit, and you’ll attract a lot of attention. “Fine. Shut up.”

“Yep.” You fold your arms on the bar and rest your head on them, shutting your eyes.

Even when you aren’t looking at him or talking, your presence bothers Shigaraki. It’s bothered him since the beginning – as much as he’s bothered by the others, in a different way than he’s bothered by the others. While the others can at least manage to avoid pissing Shigaraki off, there’s nothing you do that doesn’t cause some kind of problem. If you’re talking to him too much, he’s annoyed because he doesn’t know why you’re talking to him. If you’re not talking to him, he’s pissed about that, too. If you’re not around, he’s mad that you’re avoiding him, and if you are around, he wishes you weren’t. The fact that you’re here was a big problem for him even before he started having the dreams.

Shigaraki can’t remember the details of last night’s dream, but he knows you were in it. He pours himself a drink, takes the bottle with him, and sits down at the far end of the bar from you. You don’t look up again, and Shigaraki finishes his first drink, then half of his second, with no improvement on the situation. He shifts on the barstool, trying to get more comfortable. He needs to find something else to do. Something that will distract him from how stupidly horny he is.

You’re right there, and being irritated with you for doing anything at all is as good a distraction as anything else. “If all you’re doing is making a couple of heroes slightly dumber, you’re not really pulling your weight, are you?”

You don’t stir, but Shigaraki sees your shoulders stiffen. “What else should I be doing?”

“More,” Shigaraki says. You lift your head to look at him dead on, and Shigaraki hates that so much that he loses his train of thought for a second. “I don’t want them slightly dumber. I want them so stupid they can’t walk in a straight line. You have to get closer to them for that? So get closer. Get out of here and –”

“If I make them that stupid, the heroes will know that something’s wrong,” you interrupt. “My quirk’s in the government databases. If I do anything too obvious, they’ll know I’m working with you, and they’ll change their plans. Or they’ll change who they’re using to execute those plans. For my quirk to work on someone, I need to know who they are.”

Shigaraki knows how your quirk works. He’s not stupid. “I could do what you want me to do, but it would ruin your plans,” you say. “I don’t want to do that.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I wanted to take a nap,” you say. You sit up straight on your stool, get to your feet and start towards Shigaraki. “Now I want to know what I did to piss you off.”

You’re coming closer. Shigaraki feels a surge of panic. “Get away from me.”

“No.” You sit down one barstool away from Shigaraki, but still way too close for comfort. Shigaraki’s skin feels hot, and in spite of the fact that he left his room wearing sweatpants, they’re getting tight. “You let me join the League, but ever since I got here, I can’t do anything right. You’re mad at me all the time, and today you’re even madder than usual.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” you say. You keep staring. Shigaraki looks away, and you say the first thing he’s ever heard you say that makes you sound like a villain. “Either you can tell me the truth, or I’ll use my quirk on myself and figure it out.”

Shigaraki’s stomach lurches. “I thought you were too tired to use your quirk.”

“Not on myself,” you say. Shigaraki glances back at you. You’re almost smiling. He’s seen you smile before, talking to Toga or Magne, but not like that. “You can tell me, or I’ll find out on my own. Your choice.”

You’re not screwing around. Shigaraki thinks fast. He could Decay you, but – Shigaraki writes off the thought before he can even complete it. He has to tell you something, and it has to be convincing. But he doesn’t have to tell you everything to keep you from using your quirk. It’s going to be humiliating, but nowhere close to as humiliating as the whole truth, and he opens his mouth and spits it out. “I’m horny.”

You blink. “So jerk off.”

“I can’t.” Shigaraki sees your eyebrows lift, skeptical as hell, and loses patience, even as his face heats up. “My quirk. Anything I touch with five fingers –”

“And you can’t jerk off without –” You break off mid-question, looking just as uncomfortable as Shigaraki feels. “So you’ve never –”

“No, I have, I just –” This is way more information than you need to know. Shigaraki grits his teeth. “You wanted an answer. There’s your answer. Leave me alone.”

You don’t leave Shigaraki alone. You actually move over onto the stool next to his. “So you’re just going to be a dick to me any time you’re horny.”

It’s your fault Shigaraki’s horny. Before you showed up, he could deal with things on his own, but now instead of videos and games to fixate on he has fantasies – because he can imagine about what you’d look like under him, what you’d sound like, what you’d feel like. All of which are the worst possible things for Shigaraki to be thinking about right now. He’s completely hard, again. Maybe you can tell, or maybe you’re using your quirk on him after all, because you’re making a really weird face. “If you’re going to be a dick any time you’re horny –”

You break off. Shigaraki thinks, fleetingly, about Decaying you. At this point he’d rather Decay himself, because if even he kills you, he’ll still have to remember that this happened. You take a deep breath, let it go. “Do you want help?”

Shigaraki’s mind blue-screens for a second. “What?”

“If this is why you’re like this, then it’s easy to fix,” you repeat. Your hands are clenched into fists on your thighs, and you slowly uncurl them. “Do you want me to help?”

“Help with what?”

“Jerking off,” you say. You make an awkward gesture, and every muscle in Shigaraki’s body goes tense as he imagines your hands around his cock. You have to be messing with him. There’s no way you’re actually offering – that. “Yes or no?”

“Yes.” Shigaraki finishes his drink and stands up before he can think any more about it. He grimaces as his cock strains against the fabric of his pants, and feels a surge of embarrassment when he realizes you’re looking at it – but it’ll be over soon. In the face of getting some, and getting it from you, nothing else matters. “Let’s go.”

Shigaraki’s nerves kick in on the walk back to his room. Not enough to make the hard-on he’s coping with fade even slightly, but enough to remind him that this is probably a bad idea. But you’re following him, and you haven’t changed your mind. Shigaraki’s not chickening out first. The nerves get worse when he opens the door to his room and realizes what a mess it is. “Uh –”

“Where do you usually sit?” You don’t look impressed – or disgusted, now that Shigaraki thinks about it. “On the bed?”

Shigaraki sits down on the bed – which he didn’t make, because he never makes it – and you sit down next to him. You don’t do anything. “I thought you were going to help me.”

“Show me what you do,” you say. Shigaraki stares at you. His heart is racing, his pulse hammering so hard that he feels it everywhere. “Go as far as you can, and then I’ll keep doing what you do.”

That makes sense, probably. Shigaraki’s mind is startling to scramble. He decides to think about it later and catches the hem of his shirt, hiking it up and out of the way. He knows from experience that it’ll slide back, so he pins it between his teeth and reaches down to his waistband, shoving at it until his pants are down around his thighs and his cock is free.

His hard-on looks like it feels. Uncomfortable, leaking, hot to the touch when he wraps three fingers and his thumb around his shaft. Shigaraki tries a few of the same insufficient strokes as always and feels the muscles in his abdomen and thighs clench. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. A frustrated sound edges out around the fabric in Shigaraki’s mouth. Aren’t you supposed to help him? He looks at you. You’re looking away.

“Hey,” Shigaraki says, the hem of the shirt falling from his mouth, and you look at him. “You wanted to help. Pay attention.”

Your face is flushed. You nod, and you reach out – but only so you can grasp the hem of Shigaraki’s shirt and pull it out of the way again, your knuckles brushing over his abdomen in a way that makes him twitch. You’re sitting closer to him now than you were before, close enough that he can almost feel the heat of your body, and imagine how it would feel to have you pressed against him. One of your hands is holding his shirt up. The other comes to rest on his lower abdomen, fingertips brushing through his hair, centimeters away from the base of his cock.

Shigaraki squirms involuntarily, trying to move your hand lower and jeopardizing his own strokes at the same time. Even when he lifts his hips to meet his own hand, he can’t lose control the way he wants to, can’t chase the feeling he needs. He needs it. He needs it and he’s never come even close to having it, until now. Shigaraki tries to focus. You’re only going to help once he’s gone as far as he can, so he’d better get there as fast as possible.

He shouldn’t have told you to pay attention. Now you’re watching everything, your face still flushed and your eyes glued to Shigaraki’s every move, taking everything in. Do you like this? Do you like watching Shigaraki’s pathetic attempts to get himself off? Whether you like it or not, you’re still touching him when you don’t have to. Shigaraki’s fingers tighten involuntarily around his cock, his fourth finger almost coming down, and he loosens up in a hurry. But that’s no good, either. He tries again.

It’s the same as always. Shigaraki makes it one or two strokes before it gets dangerous, enough to show him what he could have and not enough to get him there. He’s sweaty and his heart is beating too hard and the same frustrated tears as always are stinging his eyes. He curses, lets go – and a warm hand slides between his legs to replace his.

Shigaraki almost comes on the spot. It takes every ounce of willpower he has, and he almost blows it again as he watches you adjust your hold on him, shaping your hand more closely around his cock. You’re slow about it, but you sure as hell aren’t hesitant. Shigaraki can’t look for longer than a few strokes. It’s too humiliating to see the intensity of his own reaction, precum oozing from the tip of his cock and his hips jerking upwards into your hand. He clenches his jaw and shuts his eyes.

“Hey. Pay attention.” Are you making fun of him? Shigaraki opens his eyes and finds you looking at him. “I need to know if I’m doing it right.”

“What do you think?” Shigaraki forces the words out through gritted teeth. “Do you need me to tell you you’re doing a good job or something?”

“That might be nice,” you muse. Your hold on him loosens slightly – not enough to complain about, more than enough to read as a threat. “Since I can’t do anything else right around here, I at least want to be good at getting you off.”

Your grip tightens again, and you run your thumb lightly over the tip of Shigaraki’s cock at the end of the next stroke. Shigaraki couldn’t pull a move like that if his fucking life depended on it, which it would. He was going to tell you not to ask stupid questions, like if you’re good at getting him off when he’s two seconds away from blowing his load all over himself, but instead he moans, so loudly that people can probably hear it two streets away. You replay the same stroke, slower this time, pulling Shigaraki’s back into an arch to match the upward motion of your hand, and then you spend a few seconds just toying with his tip, barely touching him at all.

Are you trying to make him squirm? Shigaraki hates that it’s working, hates that you won’t just give him what he needs – but then you’re back to stroking his cock again, and Shigaraki relaxes, as much as it’s possible to relax. It feels good, even better than he thought it would. And even better than that, because he doesn’t have to do anything. All he has to do is sit back and enjoy it.

“Hold your shirt up,” you say, and Shigaraki grabs it clumsily. Your now-free hand traces quickly down Shigaraki’s chest, along his stomach, skidding sideways over his hip before sliding between his legs. There’s not room for both of your hands. Shigaraki spreads his legs without thinking twice.

You make a weird sound – maybe a gasp. “Stop that,” you say, but now you’re cradling his balls in addition to stroking his cock, so Shigaraki’s not interested in stopping much of anything. “It’s working.”

No shit it’s working. Shigaraki’s entire body is wound tight, so much that he can’t even twitch or thrust or squirm – all he can do is strain, agonizingly tense, every atom of his body focused on the motion of your hands. Shigaraki squeezes his eyes shut. His shirt crumbles away as he claws at it, the sheets on his bed going the same way a second later as he fights to ground himself. He needs more. Shigaraki needs to come right now, before he grabs onto something he can’t replace.

The word struggles out of his mouth sideways, twisted and strained just like the rest of him. “Please –”

You don’t answer him, but Shigaraki feels you shift closer to him. He opens his eyes and you’re right there, close enough that he can feel your breath against his skin. You’re watching him, head tilted, lips parted, so close. Shigaraki’s so close, and he needs more from you. He seizes the front of your shirt to pull you down to him, only for it to Decay when you’re halfway there. But Shigaraki gets lucky. You lean in the rest of the way and press your lips against his.

It’s not because of that. Shigaraki’s coming hard enough to see stars, hard enough that he blacks out for a second, but it’s not because you’re kissing him. His cum spills everywhere, onto his sweatpants and his stomach and over your fingers, and you keep stroking him with slick hands. You don’t pull away until Shigaraki’s whining against your mouth and you’ve drawn out every drop of cum he has to give.

And then you sit back, and let go, and look away. “I need a new shirt.”

You’re sitting next to him, on his bed, in just your bra. The sight would get Shigaraki hard again in an instant if you hadn’t just made him come hard enough to disconnect his spine. He raises a shaky hand and points to his hoodie, slung over the back of his computer chair, but you don’t go for it. Instead you get up and head to the bathroom to wash your hands.

Shigaraki needs to wash everything. His sweatpants, himself – the stupid mattress, since he was dumb enough to Decay the sheets off it right before he blew what feels like the biggest load in history. What else was he supposed to do, though? No way was he going to be able to control himself while you worked him over. No way is he going to be able to think about anything else the next time he sees you do anything with your hands. Or with your mouth.

It occurs to Shigaraki vaguely that while he’s solved the initial problem of being too horny to function, he’s set himself up for something even worse – more dreams, made all the more vivid because he’s got experience to back them up. He might be good to go for now. Probably for the rest of the day, since it’ll be a miracle if he can do anything other than clean up and take a nap. But he’ll be right back where he started the next time he wakes up from another dream about you.

The water from the sink shuts off, and a moment later you come back out, snagging Shigaraki’s hoodie off the chair and pulling it on over your bra. Shigaraki feels a faint twinge of foreboding at the sight, but it fades fast. Sure, he could wake up tomorrow morning with the boner from hell and it’ll be all your fault. But now he’s got a way out of it, and the way out of it is so good that what it takes to get there barely even matters. And he’s in a good enough mood to admit to himself that you do things right a lot more than you do things wrong.

Which reminds him – “Hey,” Shigaraki says, still humiliatingly breathless, and you pause in the act of pulling the hood up. “You did a good job.”

He might still be out of breath, but your face is still flushed. “Good,” you say, and you turn to leave. Shigaraki doesn’t hear you speak again until you’re already out the door. “Next time I’ll do better.”

Better might kill him. Next time. Shigaraki pulls up his sweatpants so his dick isn’t hanging out, makes no other effort at cleaning up, and falls asleep with something that feels like a smile on his face.

Shigaraki Headcanons: Allergies

As a kid, Shigaraki had a ton of allergies. He couldn’t eat a lot of foods, including anything with nuts, certain fruits, and eggs. When AFO took him in, Shigaraki, like any five-year old, would constantly mention his allergies and dietary restrictions to him. AFO blew him off, because allergies aren’t real…  Shigaraki nearly died twice in that week alone. His near-death experiences traumatized him, causing him to refuse any food AFO prepared for him. The only time Shigaraki would eat, is when they got fast food, since Shigaraki remembered being able to eat McDonalds without having an allergic reaction. AFO quickly caved in and bought Shigaraki fast food everyday to keep him from starving. He became a picky eater, but AFO didn’t care enough to correct his habits.

Over time, AFO would spend a small fortune on trying to cure Shigaraki’s allergies through Garaki. Shigaraki was subjected to weekly shots for his allergies and his skin. He only stopped getting the shots when AFO got arrested. By that point, he grew out of most of his allergies anyways.

Thanks ! ^^

We have to keep pushing

Let's go Tenko/Tomura nation‼️‼️

8th place is insanely well for the first week

Where can we vooote ?

We have to keep pushing

Let's go Tenko/Tomura nation‼️‼️

8th place is insanely well for the first week

Long wawy hair..

🥹

Vibe [AU fic] Intro

SUMMARY: You offered to take Shigaraki's virginity. You wondered how he was going to fulfill your sexual appetite. You could tell he was eager to please. You roused something in him, an insatiable man that could not get enough of you. You had Shigaraki so sprung like crazy.

Virgin! Shigaraki/ Thicc! Reader

Virgin! Shigaraki/ Curvy! Reader

18+ readers only

[DISCLAIMER: The characters respectfully belongs to the creator of 僕のヒーローアカデミア Boku no Hero Academia/My Hero Academia, Kohei Horikoshi.

All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of the respective owners. The author of the fanfiction is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.]

MATURE CONTENT WARNING: This fanfiction is intended for mature audiences only.

This story contains explicit adult sexual content. If you are easily offended or are under the age of 18, please leave now. Reader discretion is advised.

•••°°°°••••°°°°••••

"Where in the hell is he?" You stepped out of the doors of the lecture hall, tapping your thumb on the keypad to your phone. You checked what time it was on the screen. It was almost the late morning, going into the early afternoon hours.

As your last lecture came to an end that day, you had plans to meet up with your partner for your project that was assigned to the both of you by your professor.

Shigaraki Tomura was the person who you were partnered with. You tried to get a good look at him but his face was mostly obscured by his long, ruffled cyan hair and black hoodie. His head was panned down as his eyes stared at his notebook throughout the entire lecture.

If you were fast enough, you could find him.

Or so you hoped.

But still, you knew that there was a possibility that he couldn't have gotten that far in such a short amount of time. You underestimated his ability to slip away undetected into the crowd. Immediately, you could feel a hint of annoyance begin to grow.

The stress of having demanding courses, running an online side business, working a day job and graduating was getting to you. There was definitely a heavy load on your shoulders. You hardly had any time to sit down and blink your eyes for a lousy few seconds. Your life after graduation would be even tougher as you would be entering nursing school.

One of the few things that brought comfort to you was Spring Break. That was one of your most favorite times of the year. You along with other friends had the money saved up to travel to the Bahamas that year. Things always get wild each and every Spring Break vacation you go on. Just recalling the memories made you blush and a bit wet from time to time.

The previous year was a vacation that you will most definitely hold dear to your heart and your libido. It was full of exhibitionism, voyeurism and non-stop sex marathons day in and day out. You had most of your sexual crusades saved on video in your phone. Once in a while, you like to watch videos of yourself getting fucked as you spend your lone nights pounding yourself with your favorite ribbed dildo.

•••°°°°••••°°°°••••

You stopped at a cafe nearby the campus to grab yourself two strawberry cheese Danishes to go. The wait was about three to four minutes. You politely thanked the employees at the cash register and bid them a good day.

As you turned to leave the cafe, your eyes caught the sight of an individual sitting at the corner of the cafe, near the back. It looked like he had chosen that seat so that nobody would bother him, almost as if he was sequestering himself from the other patrons on purpose.

The first thing you noticed about him was his very pale skin. It was almost translucent. He was quite thin as well. He wore an oversized black hoodie that was pulled over his head so that you barely noticed his tousled locks of cyan hued hair.

You immediately recognized him from class. What a relief that you were able to find him without going through any kind of extensive searching and scouring around the entire campus. All of his attention was towards his phone that he had in his hand. He was so immersed in the screen that he did not even notice that you were walking towards him.

"Oh! Thank goodness I found you." You sighed, feeling at ease. "You left before I had the chance to talk to you. I wanted to discuss the group project that we were assigned earlier." You clutched your books against your chest. A cute taupe pleather purse was strapped to your shoulders with your pastries safely wrapped inside of it.

His head shot up as soon as he heard your voice. It took one second to gather your thoughts when his eyes met yours. You hardly saw a person with scarlet eyes before. You wondered if he wore contact lenses or if those red eyes were his natural eye color.

"Hmm? Oh yeah. I almost forgot about that." The blue haired young man muttered under his breath before turning his attention back to his phone.

You noticed how standoffish he was but it wasn't a personal snub towards you. He displayed the same behavior towards everybody he crossed paths with.

You were concerned about his flippant attitude towards the project because it would count for a huge chunk of your grade. It was important for you to graduate with an excellent GPA.

"So, you almost forgot about it? Well, I'm already stressing out about it and it's hardly been thirty minutes since class was dismissed. I need to pass the course with flying colors. I'm a senior. This is my last semester here. I graduate this coming May. I am going for my bachelors and after, I'm planning on going to nursing school to become a registered nurse." You explained to him, tucking a lone strand of hair behind your ear. He did not budge when he heard your statement.

"If you don't mind me asking, what year are you in?" You asked Tomura in an attempt to make small talk. Creating a sense of familiarity through constant communication was an excellent way to build a healthy partnership with another person. You genuinely wanted to get to know him. It was important that you were able to break the ice with him.

Tomura, on the other hand, felt the opposite. His prejudgments and assumptions lead him to believe that you were like all of the other ditzy whores running around campus. He was certain that you were trying to exploit him for resources or his intelligence. You seemed like the type. Otherwise, why would a pretty lady like you be talking to him? The bitter raging cynic in him told him to put all his emotional walls up around him.

"Sophomore." Tomura simply stated.

He really did not notice you in his class but he really did not notice anyone in general. His main focus was getting the course material, taking the necessary notes and then leaving before anyone had the chance to speak to him. He tried his best to avoid socializing because that was definitely not his strong suit.

However, that did not stop him from observing you from head to toe.

Plump glossy lips, doe shaped eyes, long thick wavy hair and hourglass shape? Even though you wore loose fitting hospital scrubs, your curves were still noticeable, especially your backside. Your ass was nice and round and your thighs were another story. They were thick and juicy. You were a whole snack.

You took a seat and sat in front of him. You had a few minutes to spare before your shift at the University's hospital were to start. "I don't mean to bug you but, I would just like to know our general plans for the project. We could worry about the details later."

Tomura's was so relieved that the project did not have any speaking parts. That part was optional. "Well, you don't have to worry about that. I'll do 90 percent of the work if that's what you want."

You frowned slightly at his assumption of you being lazy. The man did not know you from a can of paint. If he walked a mile in your shoes for just one day, he would know how much of your schedule consisted of non-stop work day in and day out. There was an itch inside of you that wanted to give him a piece of your mind and set him straight.

Tomura definitely lacked a lot in the personality and the socialization department. You wanted to be mature about this and find a way to reach some kind of middle ground with him.

"Listen." The tone in your voice was much stern than before but you were able to remain calm. "I really want to contribute to the project. I would feel like a failure if I just let you do all the work yourself. This is supposed to be teamwork. I'm willing to work with you if you would just give me a chance." As you finished your statement, you sat up straight and crossed your arms.

Tomura just blinked his eyes and observed your body language. His curiosity about you began to grow. There was something about the way you showed your confidence when it came to voicing your needs and expectations.

"I guess we could work together if you're willing to do your share. You seem genuine enough." He gave a stiff nod of approval.

"What makes you think that I wasn't being genuine in the first place?" Your tone was a bit softer.

"I don't feel like explaining myself but, women in the past usually left most of the workload up to me and just pretended as if I did not exist once they got what they wanted from me…" He explained with a hint of bitterness in his tone. It made him angry just recalling what happened in the past.

"So, you just assumed that I was going to do the same thing to you? Is that it?" Your eyes narrowed a bit, trying to remain sympathetic towards him.

"To be honest? Yes." He bluntly answered, crossing his arms.

"Well, I'm not like them." You rolled your eyes at his subtle hostility. "Not all women are the same just like all men aren't the same. I believe in the philosophy of 'treat others how you would like to be treated'. Like I said before, I'm willing to work with you if you're willing to cooperate with me."

"Ah. Smart, genuine and pretty. I don't see any of your types around here too often." Tomura tossed you a snide smirk your way.

"Trust me; there are plenty of women who are very beautiful and kind hearted out there in the world. It would not hurt to step outside more and socialize." Then, you checked your phone for the time. You had about two minutes before you had to leave for work.

Tomura made a grunt of annoyance and checked his phone too. He did not want anyone to tell him what to do or where to go. He absolutely hated going outside, not to mention his socializing skills were terribly weak, almost non-existent. He spent most of his free time cooped up in his dorm gaming and studying.

You quietly observed Tomura as he took his free hand to scratch his nails onto the flesh on the side of his neck to satiate the irritating itch that was bugging him ever since you began speaking to him.

It was apparent that he was dealing with some personal issues that had him in the state that he was in. Everything from his skin to his physical stature was in need of some positive modification of care. You wanted to give Tomura some advice on how to improve his physical health but, you decided that it would be best to keep your comments to yourself. That did not stop you from being concerned for him. It seemed like he could use a positive influence in his life. He could use a person who could help him get out of his shell.

However, you could definitely be of some assistance when it came to his skin care. Most of his exposed flesh looked so dry and flaky, especially around his mouth.

"I noticed that you have the habit of scratching your neck. Is there anything wrong? Is it a rash?" You asked Tomura.

"Um…" Tomura's eyes darted downwards, focusing on his foot as he tried his best to avoid making eye contact with you. It was evident that he was ashamed of his habit. "It's kinda…hard to explain."

Your observation wasn't meant to be taken as scorn or criticism against him and you wanted him to know that. "Sweetie. I would highly suggest that you stop because your skin could get infected or you might give yourself a permanent scar around that area. I could give you some of my custom made home remedies for skin care. They're all handmade and mixed by me. I usually sell them online just to make some extra cash on the side."

Tomura kept quiet as he glared at you with suspicion.

"Don't worry. It's not a pyramid scheme and I'm not trying to recruit you into anything. I am the boss of my own side business and I work for no one but myself. No one is working above me or beneath me. I am the sole proprietor. As a matter of fact, I will give you some of my products free of charge." You assured him with a friendly smile.

Tomura did not know what to think about your kind gesture. It really confused him for a moment and he had trouble finding proper words to say to you. "Oh really? I mean, you really don't have to—"

"I know I don't have to, but I want to." You reassured him, placing a hand gently on top of his. You wanted to show him that you meant well by him and that you actually cared for him.

This was a VERY rare occurrence of a beautiful woman showing enough interest to even help him with anything. You were so kind and patient towards him.

However, a hint of cynicism kept prodding his thoughts.

Then…

Those cynical thoughts spiraled and led him to accusing you of feeling pity for him as if he was a sad charity case that had no hope in life. Afterwards, there came a flood of self defeating thoughts. Those thoughts usually held him back from moving further in life as far as relationships and friendships were concerned.

This was feeling a bit too intense for him at the moment. He needed the time to process the events that just took place.

"I will let you know if I need anything." He stated in a curt tone.

You had the feeling that he was overwhelmed so you decided to leave him alone to have his space. Besides, it was time for you to head off to work anyway.

You stood up from your chair and bid him a good day. "Okay. I'll see you next week."

Tomura meekly waved at you and watched you leave the cafe. His scarlet eyes noticed how your hips and ass swayed from side to side as you walked out. He thought your little stroll was the sexiest thing he has ever seen so far. It had a natural seductive rhythm to it.

That was a vision that would certainly linger in his mind before he fell asleep tonight. It was the image that will be the cause of him waking up the next morning with his legs and thighs covered in his own cum.

•••°°°°••••°°°°••••

One week later….

You stood by the door of the lecture hall with your thumbs tapping away at your phone, waiting for class to start. Class would not start for another twenty minutes but you always liked to arrive earlier than expected. Your business e-mail was absolutely clogged with different requests, special orders and warehouse inventory related messages. It would take you forever to reply to all of them but, you had to pace yourself so you won't get so overwhelmed to the point of burning yourself out.

"So…you're quite early today."

Tomura's voice snapped you out of your little busy mental bubble.

"Oh. Hey there." You giggled quietly, your mind still preoccupied with your e-mails. You managed to rapidly tap out in the last reply to one of your messages before you gave your full attention to your classmate.

"I'm sorry if I seem distracted. Work is piling on me. I can't catch a break to save my life." You tried to laugh off the stress. A long nap was calling your name once you had the chance to reach your apartment that night.

"It seems like you have a lot on your plate." Tomura sighed, slowly taking a step towards you.

"I do. Lord, give me the strength." You looked up towards the ceiling and clasped your hands together before piteously giggling.

He just chuckled. He found your humor to be cute. It only intrigued him more.

"Um…" He began, but went silent.

A few awkward seconds of silence followed. He cursed himself for not being able to have enough balls to continue the rest of the conversation.

"How was the rest of your week?" You asked him.

"It was alright…I guess. I managed to gather some useful source material for the research part. Now, I just have to begin the written report."

"Oh? I was thinking that I could take care of that part."

"Are you sure? I don’t want to put any more workload on you. You seem really busy with other important things, especially with your other classes and your jobs." He scratched the back of his head, looking down at his own sneakers. He avoided making any eye contact for more than a second.

"Ah. That reminds me. Would it be cool if we could trade phone numbers?" You prepared your thumb to tap his number and confirm it into your contact list.

He felt shocked that you asked him for his number first. Then again, phones are the easiest way to keep in contact with anyone in this day and age. Besides, he did not want to read too much into your request. He reminded himself that this exchange was for academic purposes, not for anything personal nor romantic. "Yeah. Sure."

You called him to make sure your number appeared on his screen. It did and he proceeded to save your number with your name in his own contact list.

•••°°°°••••°°°°••••

An hour and a half later…

After class, you two agreed to meet up in the library to discuss the project in much greater detail. During that time at the library, Tomura felt more at ease working with you but his nervousness was still there. Your aura was so friendly and inviting which made it easier for him to become more engaging with you as time went on. It made it a comfortable environment for him.

In some instances, his mind dozed off and he stared at your face. You were so pretty to him. He zeroed in on your lips whenever you spoke.

They were so soft…

So supple…

He wondered how they would feel wrapped around his cock. Very dirty and sordid thoughts swirled around his mind and they did not stop. They just got filthier and filthier by the second.

Damn. What would it look like to see you beg for him to fuck you after he finished painting his cum all over those sexy lips of you?

Then, his mind as well as his eyes drifted towards your breasts. On that day, you wore a tight spandex long sleeve shirt with a bit of cleavage showing with a pair of tight denim jeans that complimented your hips, thighs and ass very well.

Would you beg for him to splatter his thick cum all over your gorgeous breasts? One could only imagine. How would your ass feel once you made yourself comfortable in his lap? It would feel so soft and warm. Yes it would. He decided it would feel soft and warm.

You noticed Tomura practically leering at you and you had to constantly remind the young man to stay focused on the project.

Of course, he would incessantly apologize for losing sight of the important task at hand. You forgave him but sternly warned him to pay attention to the project. He would gladly obey your instructions. There was something really enticing with the way you would take charge and give orders.

Your stay lasted for about an hour before you decided to call it a day.

Your partner just leaned back in his chair, stretched his arms before giving out a large yawn. “Fuck, man. I can’t wait till this project is done and over with. I hate class projects. I really hate working with other people because they annoy me so much.” He recited that statement with a tired sigh.

“Do I annoy you?” You gently smiled at him. “Maybe, I should be next time.”

“I’m just pleasantly surprised at how smooth things went today. I really enjoyed working with you and that’s not something that I usually tell anyone.” He scratched his neck again.

“Oh? Is that so?” You arched an eyebrow up in curiosity. You wanted him to elaborate and you waited for him to do so.

Tomura almost flinched when his hand was gently pulled away from his neck and nestled in yours. Your hand felt so soft and you smelled so sweet. Then, he recalled what you told him the other day about quitting his habit of scratching. The gesture you just displayed was a reminder to him to stop. Your thumb caressed the top of his hand.

“Well…yeah.” He stuttered. His heartbeat picked up a bit. You made him so nervous. At the same time, he felt a sense of comfort. Your presence gave him a feeling of solace. It was so confusing to him.

“I have something to give you.” You turned your back to him for a minute to retrieve an item from your purse. It was a brand new tube of lip balm. Specifically, it was one of your custom made lip balms. The packaging was simple yet appealing. It had your own company logo on it.

You removed the protective plastic tamper seal of the small tube and turned the knob before slowly applying the smooth balm all over his lips. Every ingredient was natural. The ingredients were: Beeswax, Shea butter, Peppermint, Coconut Oil, Cocoa Butter and Vitamin E. The topical salve provided maximum conditioning and healing moisture to the skin.

“This is one of my balms that I made myself. There are many more flavors that I have in stock. I am going to give you some of my products the next time we meet.”

As you applied the balm, you noticed that there was a small mole near his chin. Many people regarded that mole as a 'beauty mark'. It really did fit him really well. "You're so cute. You know that?"

Tomura just blushed before he let out a chuckle to ease the tension. “Thanks. I guess.” The sensation on his mouth felt really odd to him at first but it soothed every parched and cracked crevice of his lips. That balm was quick to do its job. "It's pretty good. You actually made this yourself?" He rubbed his lips together, getting used to the tingling taste of the peppermint. His lips felt smoother than before.

"Yes, I sure did. I enjoy creating my skin care line. It's quite a lucrative field for me." You placed the tube in his hand before wrapping his fingers around it. "Take it. It's yours. Free of charge."

"Thanks. You're really kind. I usually don't care about any of this cosmetic bullshit. I normally don’t make a fuss about my appearance. I just don't see the point." Tomura just shrugged. He did practice basic daily hygiene rituals such as showering and brushing his teeth but, that's the most he's ever done.

"Well, I believe that you deserve to feel comfortable in your own skin. I think you're handsome and you have potential." You gave him a reassuring smile before checking the time on your phone.

"Oh! I need to get going now. I promised my friend that I would meet with them for dinner tonight." You packed up your things and stood up from your chair.

“So, I’ll see you in a couple of weeks? We could meet up after class to discuss the final draft of the report. Is that fine with you?” He asked you. If he were to be honest, he thought it was way too soon for you to part ways with him. It would be nice if you were able to stay with him and hang out a little while longer.

Or overnight.

In his bed.

Or him in your bed.

With your soft thighs wrapped around his waist.

He did not feel one ounce of shame when it came to his fantasies about you. You were really tempting him and it was not fair. If he had the opportunity, he would pounce on you in a heartbeat. And once he was done drilling you into the mattress he would empty his balls inside of you, filling you up with his warm thick cum that you so rightfully deserved. He would not let one drop go to waste. All of it would be inside of you, gushing into your womb. He’ll cum inside of that heavenly pussy over and over again.

“That sounds good to me. I’ll text you if I need anything before then.”

“Cool. I’ll see you later. Thanks for the balm. I’ll make sure to use it every day.” He gave you a small smile, showing his appreciation. Small beads of sweat formed on his forehead, feeling so much tension in his pants at the nonstop explicit thoughts that keep rattling in his mind. He prayed to God that you didn’t notice the small bulge that was underneath his jeans.

You did notice but you kept quiet. It was flattering to you that he found you so visually appealing enough that he was about to bust in his pants. “You’re welcome, babe.” You leaned over the table to pet him on top of his head. You made sure that Tomura could get a nice view of your cleavage.

If he didn’t know any better, you were trying to entice him. The pet name was a clear indicator of that.

You sensed that he was ogling and eyefucking you every time you walked away, had your head turned or became distracted by something else. Your suspicions were correct. It was then that you concocted a sneaky plan for the next time you were to meet up with him. This was a sexy game that you were willing to play. A game that you would for sure win.

•••°°°°••••°°°°••••

Two weeks later…

You spotted Tomura sitting in the student lounge flipping through the pages of one of his text books. You sat next to him on the plush cushion couches. "Hi darling." You greeted him with a sweet, gentle tone.

There weren’t that many people around at the moment except for one or two other people besides you. They were sitting at the other side of the lounge. You made yourself comfortable once you took a seat on the previously vacant spot next to him on the sofa. Maybe a little too comfortable.

"Hey." He slightly blushed at the affectionate pet name.

Tomura’s eyes widened at your choice of outfit. It wasn’t anything too revealing. All you wore was a white tank top and light blue jeans. It was a pretty simple outfit but it was so tight on you, tight in all of the right places. Your cleavage was much more noticeable. If you were to give a slight tug down at your neckline, those tits would just spill out in front of him with little to no effort at all.

You wore that shirt on purpose. You most certainly had his undivided attention. He was wrapped around your little finger.

“I’m sorry that I disappeared after class. I had to use the restroom.” You yawned, outstretching your arms as you did so.

He tried so hard not to gawk at you in front of your face. “Don’t worry. I wanted to get myself something to drink before we met anyway. I’m just glad that you received my text. I apologize for the sudden change for the meet up location.”

“It’s alright. Thanks for letting me know. I really wasn’t in the mood to play cat and mouse today. But, I’m glad I caught you.” You let out a small purr while gently clawing at his hoodie collar.

He gulped. A large lump slid down his throat as he swallowed. His body temperature rose a bit. He wasn’t used to being teased by any woman. It was hard to find his words at the moment.

You felt sinisterly playful on that particular day. “So, do you have the final draft with you?” Your breasts were pressed against his arm.

“Um…Yes. I do. I have a copy of it here with me. You can keep it so you could add your part in. We should compare notes and perhaps you could rewrite the report with your part included. I’ll send you another copy in an attachment through e-mail. Then, we should be good to go.” He stated, trying his hardest to remain composed in your presence.

You were about to make things so difficult for him.

Were your nipples hard?

They definitely were.

They poked out like pebbles underneath that white stretch fabric of your tank top.

“Thank you. You’re so sweet. You’re such a gentleman. Any woman would be so lucky to have you as her man.” You had a sultry smirk on your face.

“Well. I wouldn’t say that. I never had a woman to call my own. I don’t think that will ever happen in this lifetime.” He nervously scratched the side of his neck. This was so embarrassing for him.

"So wait. You mean to tell me that you have never been intimate with another person before?" You asked.

He was hesitant to answer that question for many reasons. One main reason was that he would face harsh judgment. "Um…well…no. No I have not."

"Aww~ Aren't you adorable?" You teased him as your fingers gently flicked and tugged the zipper of his hoodie. This was too good to be true. The hunt was much more delicious. You were like a lioness, on the prowl for her next capture. This one was about to be sweet and juicy.

Once again, Tomura's body temperature slowly rose to a higher temperature when he felt you tinkering with his collar and zipper. His pants were feeling a bit tight around his loins. Those pale cheeks of his had a faint pink tint to them and the tint only deepened when your face moved closer to his.

"What's stopping you?" You asked.

"I always had trouble getting a girl's attention."

"You have my attention." You winked at him. Then, you crossed your legs and leaned closer next to him.

Tomura just froze in place. ‘What the actual fuck ?!’ He sipped his coffee quickly, to keep himself from speaking.

"Well, you know. It would be such a turn on if I were to take IT from you. Would you let me be your first time?"

"Wait―WHAT?!" Tomura damn near choked on his hot caffeinated beverage when he heard your offer.

"I can see the look in your eyes. So can you. I know you want me." You cooed to him.

Tomura felt like the luckiest guy in the world at that moment. A beautiful woman who is willing to take his virginity and was so eager about it as well? He felt like he hit the jackpot.

"I'm going to have so much fun with you." You pressed your chest up against his. Both of his crimson eyes widened while his Adams apple bobbed from a harsh gulp. He thought this entire moment was unreal. This was too good to be true.

Both of your hands pressed on his chest. "We can indulge ourselves with some red wine. Some restraints and body oil and we can have ourselves an evening." You gripped his collar and roughly yanked him so his nose was touching yours. A hiss sharply escaped between your clenched teeth.

He felt like he was about to combust. His face was completely red. He just wanted to melt away from reality. He never knew how to flirt back because he never had the opportunity to. Most women did their best to avoid him as they considered him a weirdo.

You pouted. "What's wrong, darling? You look like a cherry. Is everything alright?"

He sputtered and mumbled. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s just—Are you sure? Do you really want to? Us? Together?” His eyes darted everywhere. His palms were so sweaty.

"Follow me to the parking lot. I want to 'show' you something." A devilish smirk stretched your face.

This was about to be good.

Notes: That's it for first chapter. I hope everyone enjoyed it. I originally posted this fic back in 2021 on my Ao3 page. I'm still in the process of writing the next chapter. Should I continue this?

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

Shigaraki Tomura

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

gn reader

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

 He balances a red book atop your crown.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You're scaring him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don't you love me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes. I love you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But I still have to leave.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

♡ SHIGARAKI TOMURA ♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist

A new life for Tomura part9

some random headcanons of tomura that i thought of

just like ochaco, he sleeps either with gloves on or bandages on his pinky fingers

i’ve seen many people say tomura would listen metal or heavy metal but i really think he’d prefer game OST’s over anything>>>

blasts bury the light at 3am

he’d call kurogiri at 3am just to tell him about his plans to kill all might

apparently he’s awake all day, having anxiety attack cuz he drank monster on an empty stomach

i think he’s the type of guy to meticulously plan everything only to have it ruined by bad luck

he’d occasionally pick on his flaky skin/lips

he has a habit of collecting figures, only to leave on at the shelve without looking at it again

if you’re close to tomura, he’d invite you to eat something tasty and then tell you that he destroyed one of your items

tomura is not the type to use bar soap but rather dispenser soap…that’s if you’re lucky enough he used one

he doesn’t use his quirk much and he’s used to only using 4 fingers

very competitive and mean when he plays against you in a PvP game

too mean he’s not giving you an ounce of hope to win

you got upset and he decided to switch to simulation games instead (he doesn’t admit this but he plays animal crossing to relax)

say goodbye to your personal space, this man knows no boundaries

he’s not shy, he’s just like a cat that doesn’t know how to express its feelings to you

*gets jumpscared in a horror game* “fuck all might, fuck endeavor, fuck hawks, fuck—“

your man is the type to pick his food off the floor :(

shigaraki is the type of guy to buy you the most luxurious & beautiful black nightgown while he stays on his creeper boxers

tomura doesn’t like to shower on his own, he likes the feeling of your fingers brushing through his hair 🚿🛀

(NSFW below this point:)

expect him to talkshit about all might mid-sex

i really think his hatred for all might surpasses his sex drive

prefers receiving and will be mean about it, he just likes making a mess of you

degradation & slight breeding kink

your boobs are his favorite pillows

he likes fucking you with the skirt on—

missionary & doggy 👑

call him sweet names during sex and he’ll melt under your arms

doesn’t like shower sex but a blowjob will do

i think he would be into somnophilia, only if you’re fine with it

😂

I would love to hear more about Kurogiri being around when reader and Tomura 👉👌 From hearing them to maybe seeing Tomura come out with nothing on (would he?) to cleaning up after them....does Tomura ever talk to him about it? About how hot she is when they xxx or he tried xxx and she xxx or he wants to xxx and might order xxx to try out xxx with her? I can't help but think Kurogiri is somewhat proud that he's had this milestone in life and is connecting with another person (here I am blocking out how things started....which was horrible, but that's what it is now, soo....)

Similar question answered here, but yeah, you're basically right on the money.

As for Shigaraki talking to Kurogiri about MC, he does sometimes but in a very roundabout way. Definitely doesn't go into explicit detail with him the way he does Spinner, as he tries to keep Kurogiri at an arm's length.

...But he often fails lol.

He more often goes to Kurogiri for advice though, rather than to brag, again, in a very indirect way.

Shigaraki: My uh, my friend... He read that girls are into xxx and is wondering if that's true.

Kurogiri: Well, tell your friend that every girl is different, so while one girl may enjoy that, another may not. The best thing you can do-- I mean that your friend can do is just talk to her and see if that's something she'd be interested in. Communication is the most important part of sex.

Shigaraki: Yeah okay, I'll uh, I'll tell me friend that...

hi can i please request something with tomura (I’ve been seeing you say you want to write for him again lol plus i love him to so) like maybe something soft and comforting but also with smut in it?

hellooooo (*ˊᗜˋﾉﾉ

yes you absolutely can! thank you for giving into my current hyperfixation lol he has been on my mind sooooo much lately. probably in order to cope with what happened with the source material…

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“Inside the Open Window”

Tomura x afab Reader

word count: 2,000+

disclaimer/content warning: 18+ content! minors dni! size difference mentioned, soft tomura, some smut, some angst, established relationship, afab reader.

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The room, for once, is filled with honeyed light. You blink open bleary eyes and stare out into the shallow pools of morning puddling in swaying shapes on the floor, vision slowly focusing until you catch the lazy swirls of dust motes dancing through the air. You keep telling Tomura to open some windows, let the fresh air in before it gets too cold and you all end up even more cooped up than you already feel you are on the daily, but he’s stubborn about it so you have to sneak his open a crack when he’s not around. So far he hasn’t noticed. Maybe you’ll risk sliding it up a little further this afternoon.

Beside you, you can hear Tomura’s slow, shallow breathing from where he lays, one of his arms slung across your middle, elbow resting in the dip of your waist as you lay on your side, your back almost touching his chest. You find his hand where it’s carefully placed up near your own chest, fingers curled tightly inward even though he wears those two-fingered gloves whenever you two sleep together. You tell him you trust him, that he’s spent a majority of his life learning to sleep through the night without decaying anything while unconscious, but he says having your trust isn’t the deciding factor.

“I don’t trust myself,” he’d snapped one evening when you were pressing him about it, trying to come from a place of reassurance but inevitably pushing him a little too far. “You don’t understand,” he’d continued, after a short huff of a sigh and a trembling hand raked back through his unruly waves. “It’s just— If that were to happen, I can’t take it back. I can’t take it back. I—”

You’d approached him, slow and cautious, like he was an injured animal that looked vulnerable right now but, once within reach, might thrash and snap, bare its teeth and bite down hard. “Tomura…” you’d murmured, reaching out a hand, testing to see if he’d let you place it on his cheek. “It’s ok…” He’d leaned into your touch, let his eyes flutter closed, his next exhale coming out as a shaking, raspy whine. You’d gently pulled him down until your foreheads were touching, hoping that simple act helped to make at least some of his fear melt away, the terror pulling back from shore for a short while even if its return was inevitable. You’d let the silence settle between you two before you’d said, your voice barely above a whisper, “I know…”

So he slipped on the gloves, you buckling them in place around his thin wrists, and from then on some of the tension he held whenever he’s around you disappears.

The first touch is always the hardest though.

It’s always the scariest.

It’s as if he worries the rules of his quirk will suddenly change, that needing all five fingers in order to decay will mutate into needing only one and he’ll be forced to helplessly watch you crumble to dust between his destructive hands, frantically trying to gather up the particles as if he could use them to reconstruct you somehow, or maybe just to keep a part of who you used to be, if worse came to worst.

But once his hand— palm, fingers, and all— was safely resting against the side of your neck, he allowed himself to feel some relief.

Because, like that, you could be his.

Like that, he could hold you.

You stiffly shimmy out from beneath his arm, making sure to carefully lift the limb and set it comfortably back down close to him. You stand, greeted by the quiet crackling pops of a few joints, and make your way over to that cracked window. You glance behind you. Tomura’s still asleep. So you catch the lip of the window with the edge of your grip and pull upward, struggling for a moment before it finally gives and slides all the way to the top, the rush of sound quick but louder than you were hoping for.

When you look over your shoulder again, you see Tomura’s eyes are open now, looking fully alert in just an instant, though his body remains still and frozen in the same position that you left it, tufts of white hair hanging at odd angles in his eyes and over his shoulder.

“Sorry…” you wince, coming back over to sit on the bed beside him. He begins to stir, turns over onto his chest to push up onto his elbows, the tousled sheets slipping and exposing more of his pale back, the scars cross-hatching across the skin shining faintly silver in the morning’s soft glow. 

“You can go back to bed if you want to,” you tell him, feeling guilty for waking him so soon. You know he’s usually one to sleep into the afternoon and beyond.

He clicks on your phone, 8:15 lighting up on the screen before fading to black again. “It’s fine,” he sighs, turning over again to sit up, slouching over a bit as he rubs at the back of his neck, fingers getting caught in a loose knot in his hair as he combs it through, letting out a pronounced yawn. He looks at you as you shuffle closer and asks, “How long have you been up?”

“Not long,” you tell him. “Only a few more minutes before you.”

Tomura opens his mouth, about to say something, but stops when you both hear one of the other members of the League creaking around from downstairs. You’re willing to bet it’s Atsuhiro. He’s the only regularly early-rising person among you.

Whatever words Tomura was going to speak are reduced to a low rumble of annoyance and the clenching of his jaw, as if he’s just been reminded of something he’d been trying to avoid.

In this small bout of contemplation, Tomura shifts from beneath the covers and swings his legs over the side of the bed, bending down to grab up the bundle of black denim on the floor which unfurl into his jeans, fishing out his phone from the back pocket and turning it on only to be greeted with an abundance of notifications. Instead of reading them, he mutters something under his breath and tosses it onto the nearby side table, leaning forward to give you a better view of his back again. Now that you’re closer, you can better see the fading red scratch tracks that travel down his shoulders, though for once the marks weren’t made by his own jagged nails.

The sight of it takes you back to last night, when the room had been doused in silver instead of gold and filled to the brim with the quiet, lilting sounds of your combined pleasure. You could still feel the ghost of him wrapped around you, encasing you in his scent, his touch, his very essence as if attempting to meld you both into one.

But, like most things, no matter how much you tried to tell him he didn’t need to be so delicate with you, doesn’t need to treat you like you’re one touch away from being broken, he doesn’t listen. He’s so gentle, even as his hips meet the inside of your thighs and he drives himself into your tight, wet heat even deeper, as if hoping to burrow a new home inside of you, to leave a piece of himself there so you’ll always carry it around.

Your moans are perhaps his favorite sound in the entire world, hearing the way they break off into a clipped whimper when he hits that soft, spongy spot deep inside of you, his own moans choked out as your silky walls squeeze around his length, wringing pleasure from him in a way that’s both relentless and heavenly.

When you wrap your legs around his waist to pull him in deeper still, he’s on the verge of losing any ounce of control he has left, tempted to take your wrists and pin them above your head so he can pound into you hard enough to well tears in your eyes and have you crying out in a way that’s helpless and hurting and all his, his, his.

But when he looks down at you, sees that telltale trust that reflects back at him in your gaze, he keeps the more carnal parts of his desires at bay. Because, while he may take pride in being a symbol of fear to the rest of the world, if there’s only one person he doesn’t want to view him like that, it’s you.

When you come undone, arching your back as your mouth hangs open with a silent scream, that’s when your nails rake across his flesh quick and hard, not quite breaking the skin but bursting the blood vessels beneath, a speckling of bright red stippling the tracks of a slightly lighter shade.

He’d let out a hiss followed mere moments later by his own body letting go, a broken whine welling in his throat, the types of sounds he only allows you to hear him make. You’d forgotten you’d scratched him so hard last night almost as soon as it had happened, your mind glazed over with a thick layer of pleasure and saccharine lust, the world around you blurring until the only thing you could seem to make out through the dim dark of the room was him and all that alabaster, scar-covered skin sheened over with sweat.

Now, Tomura beckons you back into his embrace, wanting to feel the warmth of your body seeping into his one more time before he’s forced to rise from his bed and slip back into the cold, hardened role of being the leader of the most feared group of villains in the entire country, perhaps even the entire world.

You’re wearing his t-shirt, the soft black fabric oversized on your form, nothing underneath, the rest of your clothes still left discarded and strewn across the room in a trail from the door to the foot of the bed. Like this, you’re enveloped in his scent, and it leaves you feeling calm and sated. Safe. Like nothing inside of these four walls could ever go wrong.

But you really should’ve known better.

The moment you start to get even a little too comfortable is always when something rears its head to remind you there are no happy endings here. 

After a while of listening to your steady breathing and staring out the open window, Tomura works up the courage to say, “Today’s the day, y’know…” hence breaking the illusion that you’d be allowed to live in the fantasy of this haven for more than a single night’s rest.

You close your eyes, let out a long breath, trying to stay your worry. “I know,” you tell him. “I know, but, Tomura…” You turn your face up towards his, hoping to lock eyes with him, even if only for a moment, but he’s still focused on the window he rarely lets you open, furrowing his sparse, silvery brow in a look of intense concentration. Eventually, however, he does look at you, the intensity he held before melting away into something much more concerned.

Be careful, you want to tell him.

If things start to go wrong just get out. Don’t risk letting the heroes get their hands on you.

But what comes out instead is, “Nothing, nevermind…”

You figure he has enough to worry about already. You know he’s fully aware of the risks of this mission and the consequences that will follow if he fails.

So, for now, you allow yourself to sit in this false sense of security and serenity a little longer, whether for another minute, another hour, another day.

He won’t fail, you tell yourself as he places a kiss to the top of your head and smoothes down your hair, rising from the bed and gathering up more scattered articles of his clothing to slip back on before heading downstairs. He can’t.

You then regret opening the window. Perhaps, if you’d left it alone, you could’ve bought a few more hours of peace before the weight of responsibility settled in.

But, at the same time, you also knew that you were both on borrowed time.

Why not enjoy what moments of fresh air and sunlight you could get before it all was reduced to rubble and ash.

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Yea same..

You guys have no idea how much I miss Tomura. I have cried so much, and it hurts my heart so fucking bad. He deserved the world.

TOMURA SHIGARAKI MADE THE TOP 3 IN THE FINAL COMMUNITY BNHA POPULARITY POLL!!!!!!!

Followed by Dabi in 4th, and Toga in 6th ✌️🖤

the crying game - a shigaraki x f!reader oneshot

You gave up on love a long time ago, but you keep getting invited to weddings, and after eleven receptions spent at the single's table, you're almost at the end of your rope -- until first-time wedding guest Shigaraki Tomura asks you to show him how it's done. (5.7k words, modern AU, no quirks.)

This fic is for @arslansenkai, who saw my milestone post and requested the prompts ‘holding hands’ + ‘listening to the other’s heartbeat’ + ‘whispering in their ear, lips touching the skin’ from this list. Thank you so much for the prompt! I really enjoyed writing it and I swear all three of your prompts made it in here or there.

You hate weddings. You don’t remember when you started hating them, but you know why you started – right around the time when you realized that you’d never have another one of your own, that you’d always be attending someone else’s, and doing that all by yourself, too. Add in the cost of a new dress and new shoes (God forbid you wear the same thing twice in one year) and travel accommodations and a wedding present, and weddings become a big, expensive, depressing waste of a weekend. No matter how much you like the people who are getting married.

And you do like them, this time, even though they’re the twelfth couple from your department at Ultra, Inc. to get married in the last three years. Ochako and Himiko are the kind of couple who shouldn’t make sense, but somehow do – the kind of against-all-odds couple who’d make you believe in love if you didn’t know better. You were rooting for them, you’re glad they’re together, and getting their save-the-date still made you want to drown yourself in the toilet. You opted to drown in vodka instead. You need help.

You need help, and you’re going to get it. After this wedding. So you can figure out how to say no the next time you get an invite. Because out of all the indignities about going single to a wedding, getting stuck at the same table at the wedding reception as the other people who couldn’t snare a date is possibly the worst.

Most couples have at least a few single friends, but Himiko and Ochako are the last of their respective circles to couple up. Or almost-last. The singles table at their wedding included exactly five people at the start of the reception. You, an older woman named Magne, a guy your age whose place-card says Todoroki Touya but insisted that he goes by Dabi, another guy your age whose place-card says Takami Keigo but insisted you call him Hawks, and one more guy your age whose place-card says Shigaraki Tomura and who barely looked up when you introduced yourself.

It wasn’t the worst singles table you’d ever sat at, at the start. Then Magne bailed to sit with somebody she knew at a different table, and Dabi and Hawks hit it off and then snuck off to God knows where, and then it was just you and Shigaraki sitting at your table in the far back corner of the reception hall. That’s how it’s been for an hour, and the only interaction the two of you have had is when you’ve passed the table’s bottle of champagne back and forth, filling your glasses and then draining them out of sync. It’s depressing. After going to eleven weddings in two years, you can hang in there with the best of them, but you’re pretty sure you’re about to crack.

Your glass is empty, and when you reach for the bottle, you find that it’s empty, too. You want to get more, but you’re not going to look like a lush in front of your weird tablemate. “Hey,” you say, and Shigaraki looks up from the screen of his Switch. “This is empty. I’ll go get more if you want it.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Shigaraki says. You raise your eyebrows. “This will suck just as bad whether I’m wasted or not.”

“Yeah,” you admit. “But then you’ll be able to pretend it sucks because you’re wasted, not because you’re stuck at the singles table yet again.”

“Yet again? Sounds like you’re projecting,” Shigaraki says. You shrug. It would hurt more if you hadn’t heard the same thing from at least one person at the last three weddings you went to – usually towards the end of the reception, usually when everybody’s getting weepy and ridiculous. You’re ahead of schedule this time. “Sure. I’ll take more.”

Two tables over, a group of happy couples have abandoned their champagne bucket in favor of the dance floor – or the photo booth, or something. You swap your empty bottle for their full one and come back over, hoping Shigaraki will have gone back to his game and forgotten you existed. No such luck. He’s sitting up, watching you, as you sit down, fill your glass, and slide the bottle back across the table to Shigaraki. “Yet again,” he repeats. You down half your glass in a single swallow. “I’m only halfway through the first one of these stupid things I’ve been to and I’m already done. How many times have you put yourself through it?”

“Eleven,” you say. Shigaraki’s red eyes widen. “No, that’s just people from work. If I count friends from school, it’s, uh – sixteen.”

“If you’re this miserable, stop going.”

“Is that what you do?” you challenge. “When your friends invite you to celebrate the happiest day of their lives, you just don’t go?”

“My friends know better than to invite me to shit like this.” Shigaraki copies you and drains half his glass in one go. “I wouldn’t have come to this one, except Toga critical-hit me with this guilt trip about how we’re her family and she needs her family to be here –”

You did notice a conspicuous lack of parents or relatives on Toga’s side of the aisle. “And I said I’d go if I didn’t have to go alone,” Shigaraki continues. “Dabi was supposed to be doing time with me. Figures he’d score a hookup and bolt.”

“I didn’t know you knew each other,” you say. They barely talked when Dabi was sitting here. “How do you know Himiko?”

“Juvie,” Shigaraki says, and you’re not sober enough to keep the surprise from showing all over your face. He snickers. “Not what you expected?”

You shake your head. “Is that where you know Dabi from?”

“And Spinner,” Shigaraki says, pointing out a purple-haired guy at a different table. “And Twice. Magne was a peer counselor or something. If I hadn’t met them I probably would have killed myself in there.”

You can’t stop your surprise from showing this time, either. Shigaraki grimaces. “Don’t read into that.”

“No promises,” you say. Shigaraki snorts and lifts his glass partway, then drains it. “So you’ve known each other for a while.”

“Yeah. I’m guessing you’re friends with the girlfriend. Wife.” Shigaraki refills his glass again, but leaves it alone for the time being. “How long have you known her?”

“Work,” you say, then facepalm. You’re lucky you manage to do it with the hand not holding your glass of champagne. “Two years or so. I already worked there when she was hired. I kind of watched the whole thing with Himiko from the sidelines.”

That’s how you always watch relationships play out at work, or anywhere, really. Pretending to be happy, really being happy, and still feeling like you’re pulling a tarp over the sinkhole in your chest. “So the wife invited you and you showed up even though you knew you’d hate it,” Shigaraki concludes. “You’re crazier than me. I’m never going to another one of these things again.”

“Not even your own?”

“Do I look like the kind of person somebody marries?” Shigaraki finishes his whole glass in a single swallow. You were thinking about trying to keep up with him, but if you try that, you’ll throw up all over the dress you had to buy, which is probably dry-clean only or something worse. “I don’t get why anyone goes to these things.”

“They’re supposed to be fun,” you say. You feel bad picking on Ochako’s wedding. It’s not Ochako’s fault that you’re single, bitter about it, and this close to drunk on alcohol she paid for. “But they’re usually only fun if you go with someone.”

“I went with somebody. He ditched me to hook up with a guy who named himself after a bird.”

You snicker at that. “I meant a date,” you clarify. “If your date ditches you to hook up, then you’ve got bigger problems than whether you’re having fun at a wedding.”

“He’s not my date. I’m not gay.” Shigaraki looks up. “Did you think I was gay?”

“I really didn’t – think,” you admit. You didn’t come to the wedding looking for a hookup. If you had, you’d have tried to put a move on Hawks before Dabi could. “The activities are more fun with a date.”

“Activities?” Shigaraki asks. “Like games?”

“Uh, sometimes,” you say. You know Ochako set up lawn games outside, and the sun won’t set for a while. “Sometimes there’s an art project you’re supposed to do for the couple, as a keepsake or something. I went to one last year where you were supposed to write a good wish, fold it into a paper crane, and then hang it off a branch of this tree they’d bought.”

“Too much work. What else?”

“Dancing,” you say, although you felt like that was pretty obvious. “And Himiko and Ochako have a photo booth.”

Shigaraki’s nose wrinkles. “Why?”

“As a keepsake for the guests, I guess,” you say. “Again. More of a couple thing.”

“Huh.” Shigaraki pours half a glass this time but still finishes it in one swallow. Then he stands up. “Let’s do it.”

You freeze in the act of pouring yourself another glass. “What?”

“I’m never coming to another wedding. You’re bored and drunk –”

“I’m not the one who’s been treating glasses like shots.”

“So let’s do it,” Shigaraki says, like you didn’t say a word. “If this is the last one I go to, I want to get my money’s worth. Do you have something better to do?”

You were this close to taking out your phone and opening up Tinder. You shake your head. “Finish that,” Shigaraki says, and you finish the half-glass you just poured and get to your feet. “Where’s the stupid photo booth?”

You lead the way. Even in heels, you’re faster than Shigaraki – he’s meandering a little bit, possibly due to all the champagne. You reach out and grab his hand to pull him back on course. He jumps, stumbles into an empty table, and glares at you. “What are you doing?”

“You wanted the wedding date experience. Holding hands is included.” At least you think it should be. If you had a real date you’d want to hold hands with them. Shigaraki follows you a little more closely than before as you make your way up to the photo booth. “It looks like they have props. Should we use them?”

Shigaraki hasn’t let go of your hand. He picks up a fake mustache on a stick. “Who would use this?”

“Me, maybe?” If you had a wedding date, you’d want to be spontaneous and fun. You lift it out of his hand and hold it up to your face. “What do you think?”

“No.” Shigaraki takes it away, puts it back, and picks up a flower crown. “Here.”

“No, that’s for you,” you say. Shigaraki argues, but you pluck it out of his hand and settle it on his head anyway. “See? It looks great.”

“If Dabi sees me wearing this stupid thing –”

“He’ll be jealous,” you say. The crown would look stupid on Dabi’s spiky black hair, but the pastel shades of the flowers look nice with Shigaraki’s blue-grey hair. “Okay. Now you can pick one for me. I’ll even do the mustache.”

“No,” Shigaraki says again. He sorts through the props and comes up with a headband with bunny ears. “This one.”

You two are going to look ridiculous. It’s hard not to laugh, and you haven’t even seen the full effect yet. You put on the headband, thankful that you went for a low-effort hairstyle that’s easy to fix, then pull the curtain on the photo booth and wedge yourself into it. Shigaraki follows you in.

It’s a really tight fit. You were pretty sure the photo booth was a couple activity, but now you’re sure – you love your friends, but you wouldn’t want to end up most of the way into any of their laps. You have to stop holding hands to try to get situated, and while you’re still trying to figure yourselves out, the photo booth takes the first picture. Shigaraki grimaces. “Wait. That probably looked stupid. Where –”

The booth takes the second picture while he’s talking, and you snort. There’s about a ten-second interval to get positioned correctly. You manage to face front in time, but your elbow lands on Shigaraki’s thigh as you’re trying to steady yourself, and he flinches away. You drop out of the frame as the booth snaps the third photo, and it occurs to you that the only part of you visible in the picture will be the bunny ears. Based on the location of the ears in relation to Shigaraki’s body, it’s going to look pretty compromising. You hope no one sees that picture. Ever.

Shigaraki’s snickering as you sit up. “Nice one. I want a copy of – hey!”

You’ve elbowed him on purpose this time, just in time for the fourth photo. The fifth photo’s probably going to be blurry. You’re both lightly shoving each other, trying to get each other out of your personal space without pushing either of you out of the photo booth itself. The sixth photo’s probably the only one that’s worth anything, and it won’t be very good, either – Shigaraki’s flower crown is off-kilter, and you’re pretty sure your headband’s falling off. The printer begins to whir, and the two of you sit in silence as the booth prints out two sets of photos. You pick one up. Shigaraki takes the other. A second later, you’re both laughing.

The photos look even worse than you thought, and somehow that makes them better. The photo where it’s just your ears in the frame features Shigaraki staring down into his lap, looking all kinds of startled, while the photo where you’re pushing each other is blurry enough to be a still from a found-footage horror movie. In your opinion, the first photo is the funniest. “We look like that meme with the cat,” you wheeze. “The one with the loading circle over its head.”

“The last one looks like a mug shot,” Shigaraki says, his laughter so raspy that it borders on a witch’s cackle. “After a bar fight –”

The idea of getting in a bar fight in your wedding outfit sets you off. You slump sideways at an angle and end up with your head against his chest for a few seconds, surprised that you can hear his heartbeat and surprised at how fast it’s beating. “Which of us won?”

“We both lost,” Shigaraki says, and you laugh harder. The two of you look disheveled as hell, and not from anything fun. “Number two is the worst one. You look good and I look like a dumbass.”

“You just had your mouth open,” you say, wiping your eyes. You’re probably smearing your makeup, but who gives a shit. You didn’t do that good of a job on it anyway. “Anyway, that’s the wedding photo booth experience. What do you think?”

“I want to go again,” Shigaraki says. This time, you manage to turn to stare at him without throwing any elbows. “For good ones. No way do people’s girlfriends let them leave with just the stupid ones.”

You would, but then again, there’s not a big enough difference between how you look in bad photos and how you look in good ones for it to matter. “We can do one more,” you agree. “Let’s lose the props.”

Without the flower crown and bunny ears, the silliness factor drops significantly. Now you look less like a couple of drunk clowns pretending to be a couple and more like two people who could actually be together. It weirds you out, but you promised the whole wedding date experience. In the seconds before the first flash goes off, you tilt your head onto Shigaraki’s shoulder.

Shigaraki startles, and as soon as the flash goes off, he pushes you away – but only so he can tilt sideways. He’s taller than you, enough so his cheek rests against the top of your head. Four photos left. When you glances over at Shigaraki, you see that his tie’s crooked, so you fix it for him, burning another photo in the bargain. The fourth photo is Shigaraki shifting the neckline of your dress to cover your bra strap, which is weird but plausible for a couple’s photo booth experience. He has a birthmark just below the right corner of his mouth. You aim for it when you kiss his cheek quickly for the fifth photo.

Shigaraki startles again, and you sit back – but not too far. You’re still close enough that Shigaraki only has to lean forward a few inches for his lips to meet yours.

You weren’t planning to kiss him. It’s not much of a kiss, and it doesn’t last long, but your heart is still racing as the booth spits out your second sheet of photos. You’re almost scared to look. Shigaraki’s hesitant, too, and when you both flip the sheets over to check, he says exactly what you’re thinking. “Shit.”

The first set of photos were a joke. The second set – either you and Shigaraki are really good actors or you’re both really drunk, because they look way too plausible for comfort. The ones where you’re fussing over each other’s clothes are probably the worst offenders on that front, but you’re most alarmed by the last two. You’re smiling as you kiss his cheek. You can see the corner of your mouth turned up. And you didn’t see where Shigaraki’s hand was when he kissed you, but the photo’s preserved the evidence. It’s right by the side of your face, curved like he wants to cradle your jaw in his hand.

Exactly sixty seconds ago, the two of you were screwing around in here. Now it feels like there’s static running back and forth between you, and you scramble out of the booth in a hurry, almost tripping over your feet. Shigaraki gets out, too, leaning against the booth to steady himself. Without a word, he takes both of your sets of photos and tucks them into his suit jacket along with his sets, then fills your suddenly-empty hand with his own. “Now what?”

The static shock is between your hands now. “My hand is humming,” you say, like an idiot, and Shigaraki tightens his grip. “Um, I think there are some games outside.”

“Fine.”

It’s warm outside, but getting cooler as the sun begins to set. There are a lot of games, and most of them are being ignored in favor of a bunch of the goofiest guys from your office playing cornhole while their girlfriends/boyfriends watch. You determine instantly that you’re not coordinated enough for anything that involves throwing something, which leaves you exactly one option. “How about that one?”

“Jenga?”

“Jenga XL,” you say. Shigaraki snorts. “My hand-eye coordination’s too bad right now for a throwing game. This will be safer.”

Whoever was playing the oversized Jenga last left the blocks in a heap. You and Shigaraki can’t hold hands while you stack them up, and as you do, your assumption that Jenga would be safer than something else gets tested in the most embarrassing way possible – and of course Shigaraki points it out. “You’re short. If this thing falls on you it’ll flatten you.”

“It won’t fall,” you say with more confidence than you feel. “I’m good at this.”

“Go first, then, if you’re so good at it.”

You get a block out without trouble, but you have to rely on Shigaraki to re-stack it for you, which he does, wearing a really frustrating smirk. “You should have worn taller shoes.”

“I can’t walk in taller shoes,” you say. “Or dance. Are you going to want to dance?”

“If it’s part of the wedding date experience, yeah.” Shigaraki carefully extracts his block and sets it on top of the tower. He’s not all that much taller than you. If the game goes on long enough, he’ll have trouble re-stacking. “They don’t exactly teach dance classes in juvie.”

“It’s not that kind of dancing,” you say. Shigaraki looks relieved. “If it’s going to be that kind of dancing, they warn you on the invitation. A friend of mine who got married last year only played swing music at her reception. She sent out a certificate for free lessons with her save-the-date.”

“Control issues?”

“I think she just wanted stuff her way,” you say. You ease another block out of the tower and hand it over to Shigaraki. “Hers was nice. Everything ran on time, and she sent out thank-you notes six weeks after the wedding.”

Shigaraki stacks your block, then pulls out one of his own. You realize with a jolt that he’s missing the index and middle fingers from his left hand. “What’s the worst one you’ve ever been to?”

“Um.” You don’t want to say this. You really don’t – but you drank too much, and you should be honest. “Mine.”

“You’re married?”

“Divorced,” you say. “Three months after the wedding. I didn’t have the ring on long enough to get a tan line.”

Shigaraki doesn’t say anything. The tower is getting unstable, so you’re careful as you wiggle out one of the side blocks on a row about halfway up. You keep an eye on Shigaraki’s shadow as you do it, bracing yourself for him to walk away. Would you walk away if he told you he was divorced? No, but you’re divorced, so it matters less to you. “Three months,” Shigaraki repeats. “How’d that happen?”

“You’re lucky you aren’t asking me that six years ago,” you say. “With how much I drank tonight, I’d have gone off.”

“Go off. I want to hear it.” Shigaraki actually looks interested. “Anyone who fucks this up deserves it.”

He’s gestures at you. You don’t know what to make of that, and you’ve got a block halfway out of the tower. You go back to work on it. “How do you know it wasn’t me?”

“I know,” Shigaraki says. “How’d it happen?”

“This is pathetic,” you warn. Shigaraki gestures for you to go on. You sigh. “We were together since high school. Midway through college I got a bad feeling that we were drifting apart and I couldn’t take the suspense, so I tried to end it. And he popped the question. We got married six months later and three months after that he knocked up my cousin.”

“Damn,” Shigaraki remarks.

“They’re still together,” you say. “The kid’s in primary school this year. And every year around the holidays my aunt and my cousin pick a fight with me about how I need to be nicer to him, because we’re all a family now.”

You finally manage to extract the block, and Shigaraki takes it from you before you can offer it to him. You can’t read his expression, and just like when you sensed things with your ex were falling apart, you can’t take the suspense. “Pathetic?” you prompt.

“Your ex is a loser.”

“You haven’t seen what my cousin looks like.”

“He’s still a loser,” Shigaraki says. He pulls out a block. “I get it, though.”

Your stomach clenches. “What do you mean?”

“If my girlfriend was leaving me because I was dicking around, I might do something like that, too.” Shigaraki sets his block on top of the tower. Your options for blocks to pull are getting slimmer by the turn. “Popping the question. Not knocking up your cousin.”

“I have other cousins,” you say. Shigaraki snorts. “I thought you said you weren’t getting married.”

“I said nobody was going to marry me,” Shigaraki corrects. What’s the difference? “Your turn.”

You’re out of blocks at shoulder height. And chest height. And waist height. You crouch down instead, doing your best to balance in your heels, and start trying to wiggle a block loose on the fourth level up from the ground. Shigaraki’s voice follows you down. “If you were ready to ditch him, why did you say yes?”

Now you’re at a real risk of crying. Six years of intermittent only-when-you’ve-got-the-money counseling hasn’t made a dent in this one thing. You remind yourself that Shigaraki can’t see your face and work on keeping your voice steady. “I was the one who asked him out in the first place, back in high school. I always had this weird sense that we wouldn’t be together if I hadn’t. So when he proposed I thought it meant he was choosing me, like I chose him. Which was a stupid reason to say yes.”

You wanted to believe. You wanted to believe so badly that you were worth it, and now you’re divorced at twenty-eight, barely talking to the half of your family that took your cousin’s side, going on a grand total of one real date in the entire time since then that you got up and left partway through because you couldn’t fake hope or excitement for one second longer. The kiss you planted on Shigaraki in the photo both was the most action you’ve gotten in two years, and you’ve put more effort into the fake wedding-date experience than you have into even looking for a hookup. You’re pathetic. This is pathetic. You should be embarrassed, and you are.

But you got your stupid block out. You straighten up and hold it out to Shigaraki, who stacks it for you. You can’t read his expression, and you’re a little too dysregulated to be anything but blunt. “That’s my tragic backstory. What’s your damage?”

“What, going to juvie doesn’t count?” Shigaraki crouches down to pull a block from the opposite side of the same row you just weakened. He’s doing it right-handed; he’s waving his left with its missing fingers at you. “This doesn’t count? The fact that I don’t have eyebrows doesn’t count? Your problem is being a dumb kid with a shitty family and a shitty ex. My problem is that I exist. We’re not the same.”

He straightens up and drops his block on top of the tower. You can see that he’s tenser than before, and you can’t think of anything to say that won’t sound patronizing. “I didn’t notice about the eyebrows until you said something.”

“Great.” Shigaraki won’t look at you. “Your turn.”

You crouch down again. The row below the row Shigaraki just knocked down to one block seems like the safest bet. You start pulling at it, frustrated at the way it sticks. “Careful,” Shigaraki says after a second. “If you don’t watch out –”

The tower topples. You’re crouched down, with no chance of getting out of the way in time, and all you can do is sit there, stunned, while three dozen giant Jenga blocks crash down around your head. The corner of one catches your temple, digs in, and you flinch. But the blocks are light. You’re startled, and humiliated, and possibly bleeding a little bit, but you’re fine. “Are you okay?” Shigaraki asks. You give a thumbs-up, and he crouches down next to you. “I don’t believe you. You look – shit, your face is bleeding.”

“I’m good,” you say. “It’s a good thing we took pictures already. This is not part of the wedding-date experience.”

“I’m done with that,” Shigaraki says, and your heart sinks. Even though it shouldn’t. Even though none of this mattered to begin with, even though you know better, you hoped. You weren’t hoping for anything much – just to keep having fun, just to not spend the rest of the wedding alone. “You have a purse, right? Do you have napkins in there or something?”

“Your suit comes with a pocket square.” You pluck it out of his pocket and press it to your temple. “I’ll pay for cleaning it.”

“Don’t bother. It was my dad’s. He doesn’t have much use for it in solitary.”

Shigaraki helps you up while you’re still processing that one and tugs you away from the wreckage of the Jenga tower, onto a bench. The view of the sunset is really good from here. Further down the lawn, you can see Himiko and Ochako and their photographer doing a last round of pictures, and you slide your feet out of your shoes. It’s that point in the wedding. You’ll probably stay here for the rest of the night.

“Do you need ice?” Shigaraki asks. You shake your head. It doesn’t hurt, or maybe the fact that the sinkhole in your chest is eating the tarp you put over it just hurts more. “Do you still want to dance?”

“You said you were done with the wedding date thing.”

“Yeah. I’m done with the part where it’s fake.”

Maybe you hit your head harder than you thought you did. “What do you mean?”

“Seriously?” Shigaraki sounds annoyed. “I let you put a flower crown on me.”

“Is that some kind of mating ritual in juvie?” The instant you say it, you feel bad, but Shigaraki laughs. “If you’re trying to say something, say it. I don’t do very well with ambiguity on my best night and I’m still kind of drunk.”

“Same here. Otherwise I’d sit on this, and my friends would spend the rest of their lives listening to me bitch about how I didn’t ask out the girl from Toga’s wedding.” Shigaraki’s hand lifts from his lap, rises to his neck, then falls back. “I want to dance with you. Toga and her wife are having an after-party at their place, and I want you to come to it with me. And I want your number so we can hang out again sometime when we’re not wasted. Because I like you.”

You must have hit your head really hard. “We met three hours ago.”

“So? Toga said she knew she was going to marry the wife the first time they made eye contact,” Shigaraki says. That sounds like something Himiko would say. You’ve met her a few times at work parties and she’s always struck you as a little intense and a little off-the-wall. “Do you want to dance or not? Make up your mind.”

You want to say yes. What comes out is something really stupid, so stupid that you can’t look at him while you say it. “This is the kind of thing that happens to other people.”

“What, meeting somebody who asks you out?”

It sounds stupid when he says it like that. You keep his dad’s pocket square pressed to your temple and try to explain. “The whole thing where you meet somebody when you weren’t expecting to meet anybody and things click, at least on your end, and since you know it’s just on your end you try not to get your hopes up – but the other person tells you that it clicked for them, too –”

“That’s dumb.” Shigaraki doesn’t sound like he’s being mean. You could almost call it affectionate. “Forget who it happens to. I’m asking you out. Do you –”

Screw it. If this is some kind of hallucination, you want to enjoy it. If it’s real, you don’t want to miss out. You turn back to face Shigaraki. “Yes.”

He grins, and you notice a scar over his mouth, too. “Good. Now what?”

You think about kissing him. You decide to try hugging first, which involves getting at least as close to him as you did when you were in the photo booth, on purpose this time. Shigaraki isn’t particularly tall or bulky, but when you hug him, you’re surprised to notice that he’s hiding some muscle underneath his suit jacket. Kind of a lot of muscle. Huh. Shigaraki notices that you’re investigating a little bit. “What?” he asks, his mouth against your ear. “Did you think all I do is game?”

“I don’t know what you do all day,” you say. “We didn’t get to that part yet.”

“We will.” Shigaraki draws back from you, and you loosen your grip even as his hand rises to cradle your jaw. This time you see the kiss coming from a mile away, and this time, you lean in.

Everything’s different this time, except the thing that startles the two of you apart – the bright flash of a camera going off. “Tomura-kun!” Himiko squeals from somewhere nearby. “I told you you’d have fun at my wedding. Who is that? She’s so cute!”

For a second you’re worried Shigaraki doesn’t know your name, but he must have been paying more attention than you thought he was when you introduced yourself, because he introduces you to Toga without missing a beat. “She’s one of my coworkers,” Ochako explains, smiling at you. Even through the smile you can see the incredulity on her face, and you know you’ll be getting a lot of questions about this when she gets back from her honeymoon. “I’m so sorry we had to put you at that table. I wanted to put you with everybody from work, but they all had plus-ones –”

“It’s fine,” you say faintly. Himiko’s photographer takes another picture, this time of all four of you talking. “It worked out.”

“She’s coming to your party,” Shigaraki informs Himiko. “I invited her.”

“Oh, good!” Himiko turns her attention to you. “It’s going to be so fun! We have games and movies and we’re going to stay up all night.”

“You should come inside now,” Ochako says. “There are mosquitos out here, and we’re supposed to have cake soon –”

“And we’re going to do the Time Warp. I put that on the playlist for you special, Tomura-kun,” Himiko says. She glances at you. “It’s the only dance he knows.”

Shigaraki flushes, grimaces, but you tilt your head against his shoulder again, lacing his fingers with yours for the third time tonight. You don’t know what he does all day when he’s not at weddings he doesn’t want to go to. You don’t know if what he said about his dad being in solitary confinement was a joke or not. You don’t know what happened to his hand or where he got his scars, or even where his eyebrows went. But you know he likes you. You know you like him enough to give things a shot, at least for tonight, and that’s better than you’ve felt in a long time.

And you know he can dance, even if it’s only the Time Warp. For right now, you don’t need to know any more than that.

blind date (shigaraki x reader)

After endless failed attempts to help Tomura up his game, his friends have settled on their last resort: A blind date. Even before you show up, it's not going well. No quirks AU, 2k words.

this was originally in the x reader lovers community, but I figured I'd release it into the wild as well!

Tomura gets being a little late. “A little late” is practically his middle name. He waits until the last minute to do almost everything, and that means any complications mean he’s running behind. Hypocrisy pisses him off so much that he tries to avoid it all costs, so that means he has to put up with it without bitching when somebody else is a little late, too.

Except half an hour isn’t a just a little late for anything, let alone a blind date Tomura didn’t want to go on in the first place. He’s been waiting outside the bar you were supposed to meet at for half an hour, and he’s pissed.

“That’s it,” he says after the eighteenth time a woman his age has walked past and hasn’t been you, whatever the hell you look like. “I’m out of here.”

“Just a little longer, honey,” Magne says. She’s smiling, but she’s also got her arm around Tomura’s shoulders, and if she squeezes any harder, Tomura’s going to pop like a balloon. “She’ll be here.”

“No, she won’t.” Tomura crosses his arms over his chest, tucking his hands in so nothing will bite them. They’re on the waterfront, in the summer, and there are insects everywhere. Whose dumb idea was this? “You showed her a photo of me and she changed her mind.”

“It’s a blind date,” Magne says. Like Tomura’s supposed to know what that means. “She doesn’t know what you look like, either. That’s why you have to stay right here and keep wearing that baseball hat. Otherwise she won’t know it’s you.”

Tomura hates the hat. Right now he hates everything. “So she got here on time, saw me, and left. Can I go?”

Magne shakes her head. “You promised you’d try.”

“I showed up. I waited for fucking half an hour. I’ve tried.” Tomura finally shoves Magne’s arm off his shoulders. “I’m done.”

Tomura wishes he could say he didn’t know how he got here, except he does. One of his friends is getting married, and there’s supposed to be a wild bachelor weekend in Vegas, one last blast of stupid before settling down. Most of the groomsmen are planning to hook up with as many people as possible, and that’s where the problems start. According to his friends, Tomura has no game. Zero game. Negative one hundred game. If he was rolling for his game stat, it would be a critical failure – and none of his friends want to babysit him when they could be getting laid.

Tomura wouldn’t want to babysit when he could be getting laid, either. His solution was to skip the bachelor weekend and just show up for the wedding in his stupid rented suit. But apparently his friends really want him to come to the party, and they decided that what he needed was to get some practice in before the trip. Which means that for the last month, Tomura’s spent every Friday night and weekend getting dragged through his own personal hell.

They made him try dating apps, which were a disaster, even though Tomura let Toga set up his profile and make the first move. Then they tried traditional online dating, which also sucked, because Tomura’s too picky and other people have standards. Hanging out in bars and clubs worked exactly how it’s always worked – it doesn’t – and when Dabi pulled out the big guns and dragged Tomura to the sex club where he met his fiancé, the only people who talked to Tomura were guys. Tomura thought that was sort of a good sign, even though he’s not into men, until he remembered that guys will fuck anything with a hole in it. He’s not high on himself on his best day, but that was a really shitty night.

He thought they were going to quit after that, but his friends had one last ace up their sleeve – a blind date, Magne’s idea, which Toga enthusiastically signed off on when she saw a picture of the woman Magne wanted to set Tomura up with. Toga’s type and Tomura’s type line up, sort of, and Spinner giving the photo two thumbs way up sealed the deal.

It’s not like Tomura was hopeful or anything. He just wanted to get his friends off his back. Still, rejection sucks, and ghosting sucks worse. He’d rather have you show up and tell him to his face that you weren’t interested than stand him up.

Magne collars Tomura again, but her phone starts ringing at the same time, Toga’s contact info popping up. “Don’t go anywhere,” she warns Tomura as she raises the phone to her ear. “We’re here. She’s not here yet. Can you tell him –”

Tomura ducks out from under her arm and books it into the crowd of people on the waterfront, figuring he can make it to the metro stop before Magne figures out which way he’s going. But even that can’t go his way today, because he runs into somebody who’s moving at warp speed in the opposite direction, colliding at the shoulder hard enough to make him stagger. Tomura’s not confrontational, but it’s the wrong fucking day. “Can you watch where you’re going? It’s not like you matter to whoever you’re going to –”

“Are you Tomura?”

Tomura’s heart lurches. He stares hard at you as you right yourself, picking up the backpack you dropped in the collision. There’s no way this is happening. There’s no universe in which his blind date would be someone like you.

He can see right away why Toga and Spinner approved of you, but he thought you’d be someone in his league, not somebody who’s several kilometers above it. Maybe Tomura’s too excited that you actually showed up to evaluate what you actually look like. He looks away, then looks back. Nope – you’re still pretty, even though your face is flushed and you’re breathing hard like you’ve just been running. Did you run here to meet him? Only one way to find out. “I’m Tomura.”

“I’m so sorry,” you say. “My boss held me back at work, and I missed my train –”

You’re wearing some kind of work uniform. Scrubs, maybe. Are you a nurse? “And then I couldn’t decide whether to wait for another train or just run, so I ran – but I don’t really run, so it took even longer –”

Tomura doesn’t run, either. When he was doing the stupid online dating thing, he sorted out everybody who said more than one sentence about working out. You pause to suck down a breath, then keep talking. “I know everything I just said sounds like an excuse, and I know you’re leaving,” you say, “but I was hoping I could catch you so I could say I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stand you up. I get it if you want to call it off.”

Before Tomura can answer or even think about what he’s going to say, Magne bursts out of the crowd. “I told you not to run off,” she scolds, collaring Tomura again. “If you don’t stay put, there’s no way she’s going to – oh! You’re here!”

You nod. Magne looks you up and down. “I told you to dress cute,” she scolds. “And to get here on time. I practically had to chain him to a streetlight so he wouldn’t escape.”

“I’m sorry,” you say. “My boss –”

“Of course,” Magne says, scowling. “He’s never met a good time he doesn’t want to ruin.”

Magne knows who your boss is? “How do you to know each other?”

“She’s a pharmacy tech at the place I go to pick up my E,” Magne says. “She’s the only one who works there who isn’t an asshole, and her boss is the biggest asshole of them all. I only go in there when she’s on and he’s off. But let me introduce you the right way. Shigaraki, this is – ”

Tomura misses your name the first time Magne says it, catches it the second time, but it barely registers except as something he probably shouldn’t forget. You’re pretty. You’re not an asshole, or at least you’re the same kind of asshole as Magne and everybody else Magne’s friends with, including Tomura. Your boss is the wrong kind of asshole, which means you probably didn’t blow Tomura off on purpose. And you ran here so you could meet him even when you knew you were really late. You must have really wanted to meet Tomura. What did Magne tell you about him?

Tomura can ask you about that later. “So?” Magne is saying expectantly. “Can I leave you two alone, or are you going to run away again?”

“No,” Tomura says. “You can go.”

You look surprised. “Um –”

“Now.”

Magne cackles. She snatches the hat off Tomura’s head, ruffles his hair, and slaps him on the back hard enough that he staggers. “Have fun! I want all the details later!”

“Sure,” you say, bewildered, as she kisses you on the cheek. Tomura’s going to have to talk to you about that – any details you share with Magne will be fair game for the rest of Tomura’s friends, and he’s not sure how much he wants them to know. “Um, bye.”

Magne waves and vanishes into the crowd. Now it’s just you and Tomura standing on the sidewalk. You shuffle off to one side, out of the way, and Tomura follows you. “Are you sure you still want to do this?” you ask once you’re both leaning against the railing. “I get it if you’re not in the mood. When I’ve gotten stood up, I haven’t wanted to –”

“You’ve never been stood up in your life,” Tomura says, and your expression changes from confused to offended. “Look at you.”

You look down at yourself, then back up at him. “What does that mean?”

“I didn’t know anything about you and I got here on time. If I knew what you looked like beforehand I’d have been two hours early.” It sounded like a compliment in Tomura’s head, but he can’t tell if you’re taking it that way. “People like you don’t get stood up for dates.”

“I wish that were true,” you say. You look away. “I know how it feels. I get it if you don’t want to go out anymore.”

Tomura pretends he’s thinking about it. “How far did you run to get here?”

“Sixteen blocks.”

“You ran sixteen blocks to meet me. That cancels out being late,” Tomura says. You look up, surprised for a second or two before the relief kicks in. “I still want to go out.”

“Me, too,” you say. You smile at him. Women don’t usually smile at Tomura. People don’t usually smile at Tomura. He doesn’t know what to do with it. “Thanks, Tomura. For giving me a chance.”

“Yeah,” Tomura says. “What do we do now?”

“I don’t really know,” you admit. “It’s been a while since I went on a date.”

“Same,” Tomura says. ‘Never’ counts as a while in his book. “I don’t know – grab drinks or something?”

You nod. “Can we find somewhere to sit down for a second first? I don’t usually run that much, and I don’t want to pass out on you.”

“You can pass out on me if you want,” Tomura says. You blink. Tomura facepalms even though you’re looking right at him. “There are benches back there.”

The crowd on the sidewalk is only getting denser. Tomura doesn’t want to get separated from you, so he tells you to hold onto the back of his shirt. You grab his hand instead, and you’re still holding it when the two of you find a place to sit down. Still holding it once you’re both settled, searching for something to talk about. Tomura’s not optimistic about this. You’re too good to be true – the kind of woman who’d run sixteen blocks to meet him and hold his hand is a kind of woman who doesn’t exist. Even so, it’s – nice. Tomura laces his fingers with yours and decides to enjoy it while it lasts.

Radio Silence - a Shigaraki x Reader oneshot

For the last year, your best friend has been somebody you've never met. When Tenko suddenly stops answering your messages, you don't know what to do. Canon, reader has self-esteem issues, 2.1k.

You’ve been avoiding your phone for what feels like days, but you know it’s been hours, or less. You hid it under a pile of clean clothes in your closet so you wouldn’t check it every five seconds. You muted all your alert sounds, except one. You gave yourself a long list of other things to do, hoping the tasks would distract you. But your mind always wanders, somehow, and it always wanders right back to what’s not happening. Every day for the last year you’ve been able to count on at least a message or two – and usually more – from a person you’ve never met face to face. And for the last three days, you haven’t heard from him once.

Tenko keeps weird hours. You know that. You know he goes dark for half the day or more at a time, and the one time you asked if he was okay, he went off on you for fifteen messages in a row. At first you thought it was because you’d gotten too familiar, made a conversation struck up in a Discord server into more than it was, but a week of shallow conversation later, you got a way-too-pissed message asking why you never asked how he was doing anymore. Tenko’s the king of mixed signals. You know that, too.

And at the same time, you know from the details he’s shared that he’s as far from okay as it’s possible to be. He’s sick a lot. He gets hurt a lot, and he won’t tell you how. Sometimes the anger pouring out of his messages scares you a little. And sometimes it’s validating, because you’re not okay, either. You’re angry, too. Sometimes the only thing that makes you feel better is knowing that you’re not alone in feeling that way.

You have been alone, though. The last three days, you’ve had nobody to talk to, and you’re angry at him for leaving you in the dark, for not just telling you that he was done with you. If he’d told you that, you could have gotten angry back, and maybe gotten a reason why he didn’t want to talk to you anymore. Instead you’re sitting here wondering what you did. Worrying that something happened to him. And then reminding yourself that nothing needs to happen to someone for them to want you gone. Everybody does, eventually. You aren’t worth sticking around for.

You knew that. You expected it. You just didn’t expect it to hurt this much.

You can’t avoid your phone forever. Eventually you need it for something, so you dig it out, and you switch on all the alert sounds again. You’ve been through this before, and no matter how much it hurts that the person you’re closest to has ghosted you, the world’s not going to stop so you can collapse in a miserable, self-loathing heap. Life keeps moving, even when you don’t want to be part of it. You have enough shame left to prefer walking rather than being dragged along.

The days begin to add up, and you try to force Tenko out of your mind. It’s hard to do, because you used to tell him everything. You stop taking pictures of things, because you know there’s no one to send them to any longer, and every time you open up your messaging app, you see the last message you sent him, hovering like a bad dream at the top of the list. It seemed innocuous when you sent it, but when you look at it now, all you can think about is how stupid it is. No wonder he stopped talking to you. You’re useless.

Your quirk is boring. Most people’s quirks are, but you’re also lazy, so you didn’t try hard enough in school to make up for being useless that way, and you’re not pretty, either – not that it matters, he’s never seen what you look like – so there’s nothing redeemable about you. Maybe he made better friends. You were probably only a placeholder for him. You just wish he’d had the grace to tell you that ahead of time.

A week becomes two weeks. A month. A little more than that, and although other messages have pushed your thread with Tenko out of sight, he’s still on your mind. You haven’t blocked him yet, even though you should. One night after work, you sit down with a bottle of vodka and a shot glass, swearing you’ll drink until you work up the courage. But before you work up the courage to do that, you work up the courage for something else. There was a while where Tenko was sending you voice memos instead of messages, because he’d gotten hurt and he couldn’t type. You’ve heard his voice, but he’s never heard yours. You’re going to make him listen to it. At least once.

You press the voice call button and listen to it ring three times before it abruptly disconnects. Screw him. You call back again, and this time, it rings all the way through and invites you to leave a message. Yeah, you’ll leave a message. Your message to Tenko is “fuck you”.

But when the voicemail starts to record, the words come to a hard stop in your throat. “Hi,” you start. “It’s – um –”

You forget your own name, like a clown. You didn’t think you were that drunk. “It’s me,” you say finally. The call log will show your name. He’ll know who it is. “I haven’t heard from you in, like, a month and a half, and I miss talking to you. I really miss it. And maybe I talked to you too much, or something, and that’s why you left.”

Your throat starts to close. “I know it might not be that you left, but it’s easier for me to think that than to think that something bad happened to you. I don’t want something bad to have happened to you. So it makes more sense that it’s my fault. I wish you had told me what I did, so I could fix it for the next person I talk to. If there’s a next person. I’m running out of lives on this friendship thing. Or whatever this was. Sometimes I thought –”

Sometimes you thought what? Even drunk and teary and pathetic, you can’t get the words out of your mouth. It’s too embarrassing. The only thing worse than wanting something is getting caught doing it, especially something that you should have known better than to think you’d get. “It doesn’t matter,” you say instead, and then you sniffle audibly, because your nose is running. Gross. “Anyway. You’re probably not even going to listen to this when you get it, and that’s fine. I wanted to let you have it about what a dick you are for ghosting me, but I couldn’t even do that. I guess I just – I don’t know. I hope nothing bad happened to you and you’re just done with me. I hope it’s nice, wherever you are.”

That’s a good sentiment to end things on. But of course you have to fuck it up, because you’re you. “I really miss you,” you say, and you know the voicemail recording is going to capture exactly how choked up you are. “I wish you had just told me, Tenko –”

The answering machine cuts off. You’ve been babbling so long that you ran out of tape, and somehow that’s the thing that makes it all too difficult to bear. You burst into big, stupid tears, your face in your hands, and instead of drinking more or lying down or doing anything that makes sense, you put your down on the table next to the vodka and shot glass and cry yourself to sleep, like you’re in high school all over again, learning a lesson you should have learned the first time. You’re never going to be someone’s first choice. You aren’t even worth a real goodbye.

When you wake up again, you’ve cried yourself out, and you’ve got a splitting headache to go with a mouth that tastes like vodka and death. You should also have a crick in your neck from sleeping on your kitchen table, but you’re not on the kitchen table. You’re not on the floor, either, or on your couch. Your head is on a pillow that’s a lot nicer than the pillows on your bed, and there’s a blanket pulled awkwardly over you. The air smells different, too. The mold-flavored air in your apartment is usually enough to send you sprinting to the bathroom when you wake up with a hangover, but this air is clean.

Are you even in your apartment anymore? You sit up slowly and get the answer – nope, absolutely not, because the room you’re in is a bedroom that’s bigger than your entire apartment. It’s probably the nicest room you’ve ever been in, if you’re being totally honest. Did someone kidnap you? Did you die? The latter feels way more plausible to you. You’re not interesting enough to kidnap. But if you’re dead, it feels kind of unfair to have a hangover on top of it.

“Finally,” a familiar voice says, from somewhere nearby. “I thought you were never going to snap out of it.”

You whip around fast enough to make yourself dizzy. The bed you’re sprawled out on is big enough that you could fit another bed between you and the person on the other side of it. The person over there is in a leg cast, with bandaged hands and bandages on his face. You couldn’t recognize his face even if you could see it. But you do recognize his voice. You can’t believe your ears. “Tenko?”

“Yeah,” Tenko says, like any of this is normal. “I was wondering if you were going to call.”

“If I was going to?” you manage.

“Yeah. You ghosted me.” Tenko looks at you. You didn’t have a clear picture in your head of what he looked like, but this definitely wasn’t it – white hair, red eyes, a face completely covered in bandages. “That was kind of shitty.”

“You didn’t answer my message for months,” you protest. “That’s what ghosting is. Not me not calling you after you didn’t message me back.”

“Whatever,” Tenko says. You know it’s him. It’s his voice. But you can’t get over everything else that’s weird about the situation – the way-too-opulent room, the fact that Tenko’s clearly been beat to shit, the fact that you fell asleep at the kitchen table and woke up here. Wherever here is. “If you called earlier I’d have come to get you earlier.”

He was waiting for you to talk to him? You’re tempted to look up ghosting on your phone and make him read the actual dictionary definition, but whoever brought you here left your phone behind. And there’s a bigger question you need answered. “Where am I?”

“This is headquarters.” Tenko shrugs, then winces. Is his arm in a sling, too? “For the League of Villains.”

You cough. “Or maybe it’s not the League anymore. They’re changing the name,” Tenko continues. The League of Villains? “Anyway, it’s a lot nicer than our last place. Makes your apartment look like a hole in the ground.”

“How do you know what my apartment looks like?”

“How do you think I knew where to get you?” Tenko gives you a weird look. “You’re here now. I’ll take you to meet everybody once you’re sober.”

He settles down on his side of the bed, grimacing as he tries to get comfortable. It looks like he’s ready to take a nap. He has to be joking. He just kidnapped you, or had you kidnapped, and he’s with the League of Villains. He thought you were ghosting him the whole time instead of him ghosting you, and instead of explaining anything at all, he’s going to take a nap. The anger you should have expressed on the phone call comes up. “Who are you, Tenko?”

“That’s not my name,” he says. “I couldn’t tell you my real one before. But I guess –”

He reaches over to a nightstand and picks something up, and your heart skips six or seven beats in a row. Not in the good way. The way where you’ve missed a step on the stairs and you’re not sure you can catch yourself before it’s too late. Your online friend settles the hand over his face and glances towards you. “Shigaraki Tomura,” he says, a crooked smile showing through the bandages. “Nice to finally meet you in person.”

He closes his eyes and falls asleep without removing the hand. You’ve spent the last month and a half tearing yourself up over being ghosted. It never occurred to you that there might be worse things. Depending on what happens when Shigaraki Tomura wakes up, this could all too easily be one of them.