FNAF Movie Vanessa Doesn’t Know Moon’s Crimes,,

Accidental Boyfriend (Tomura Shigaraki x F!Reader)

Words: 5.5k // mdni (part 1)

Tw: reader's drink gets spiked, college au, heroes and villains are reversed(?), izuku stalks reader, fluff?, accidental dating, tomura's scatching described as a tick and will later be talked about as self harm, autistic!Tomura implied, idiots in love, gamer bf x artist gf, buckle up, (dialog heavy I wasn't feeling like writing well sorry)

Teaser: “I'm your boyfriend duh? I googled how to be a good boyfriend all night and one of the main things is safety and protection.”

It's a short circuit decision. Well, it's no decision at all since you're forced to do something– anything. He looks like he's no trouble… judging by the fact that he is sitting all alone on the couch during a house party just staring at the wall ahead. It is kinda weird. He looks like he might be nice enough though. Blue hair, dressed in a cozy black hoodie and you spot the septum piercing last. You hope. You have to take your chances. You sit down next to him.

“Hey, I know this is so weird and random but can you be my boyfriend? My stalker is right there and won't leave me alone,” you tell him. “I am so sorry to inconvenience you but… I need help for a sec to get rid of him.”

The blue haired guy looks at you and there is no reaction on his face whatsoever. Nothing. Death would be impressed. He just stares up at you with his crimson eyes like you're an abstract painting he doesn't get.

Is he deaf?! Or does he not speak your language?! You turn around to spot Izuku coming closer and your stomach twists. You can run… but if he catches you alone outside what then? No. The guy slings his arm around you, his hand comes to rest on your hip. So he did hear you? You lean into his side. Your heart is pounding so hard but you settle.

“Oh, (Y/N), there you–” He sees the hand on your hip and looks at the figure next to you. His face hardens instantly.

“Hi, Midoriya! Have you met my boyfriend?” You say.

“Y-You are dating Tomura Shigaraki?”

Tomura Shigaraki? Should that name ring any bells? He says it so… so… almost fearfully?

“Piss off,” the boy next to you, Tomura, mumbles through his teeth and you feel your stomach sink watching Izuku shrink. It was so inaudible, barely translating over the party commotion and yet it has Izuku tensed up.

“I am sorry to bother!” He leaves without another word, fists tensing by his side.

Now… Izuku is a big, muscle packed guy and the dude next to you is anything but that. He is lean and about your height? What just happened?

“It's not nice to tell people to piss off like that,” you say and bring some distance between him and you again. He retracts his hand.

“Thought he stalks you? Why be nice?” His voice is like sandpaper. It never raises or changes and stays monotonous just like his expression. You are unable to be read his face. He just is there… existing.

“Fair point--Tomura, was it?”

His eyes stare at you and you can hardly hold his gaze. He looks tired… and should chug about 4 litres of water to rehydrate. “I am (Y/N).”

He doesn't reply.

“Usually you'd say nice to meet you or something,” you mumble after a moment of dead cold silence passes.

“It was not nice?” He mumbles, looking at you… his eyes are cold but also attentive.

Your face reddens. Right. “I am sorry. Thank you! This night is a disaster.” You get up and bow to him. “Thank you again! I am a total bother. I apologize!” You walk a few steps but suddenly feel weird. You rub your forehead and tumble a bit holding onto the couch's backrest. “Why… why do I feel dizzy? I didn't even… drink alcohol… just some soda.” You brush it off and put a smile on your face. “Thanks, Tomura!”

》》》》

“Go low.”

You stir. Your whole body hurts and you feel like someone ran you over. Who is talking?

“Nah… your aim was off. I got you.”

This isn't your bed… it's too messy and smells like the sheets haven't been washed in forever… What happened? You groan as a sharp pain hits your head. Holy shit. You can't be hungover. You remember Shigaraki and them… nothing.

“I'm not turning my camera on. Stop bothering. You have– huh. I'm going AFK.”

You sit up. Gosh is this room messy. Your gaze is naturally attracted to the light spilling in through the gaps in the drawn curtains and that's when you see him. Tomura. He is sitting at his desk, turning in his gaming chair slowly toward you. Your world stops.

“You're finally awake,” he rasps. That same monotonous voice… maybe a bit softer.

Your body floods with panic. You look down on yourself. This isn't your shirt. No. No way. No way in hell.

“I didn't know if I should take you to the cops… the drugs they used should still be traceable if you go now. I googled.”

“W-what?” You stare at him.

Tomura sighs. “That Izuku guy and some of his friends must have spiked your drink or something? When you left the party you could hardly walk straight and they were waiting by the door… so I took you here since I don't know where you live.” He explains it so cooly like it's not a horrible thing to say. But he does know… He just can't show.

You draw short breaths and your lip quivers, tears sprout in your eyes and slowly travel down your tender cheeks. You try to wipe them but they don't stop coming. You are shaking all over. You never thought it would go this far. “Why did you do that?”

“I'm your boyfriend duh? I googled how to be a good boyfriend all night and one of the main things is safety and protection.”

You sniff and chuckle. So he's got jokes after all. “Tomura… thank you for looking out for me,” you sniff.

He shrugs, slouching there in his chair. “You threw up on your clothes… I put them in a trash bag in the bathroom. Just so you know.”

“I am so sorry.”

He shrugs again and itches his neck for a second then sits down on his hands. You definitely noticed the retraining he just practised on himself. “There's some Ramen and water… I have to get back to the game. Is that okay?”

You nod.

Tomura turns toward the desk again and puts the headset on. “I'm back. You guys suck without me.”

You wipe your tears. There is so much to think about. Do you wanna go to the police? Not really. There is no way to prove it was them spiking the drink. You know how this will go. Your head hurts.

You get up and walk to his bathroom. “Oh boy.” You have been to guy's dorm rooms before and they are never clean but Tomura has a problem. You wash your face and then use his electric cattle.

Can you say something?

“I am carrying you again,” he tells whoever he is talking to, clicking on the keyboard. “Stop bothering about the camera. Holy shit. Concentrate on the map.”

He sounds different. The color of his voice… it is more lively. You like it. You walk to the small kitchen area and grimace. Has he done dishes at all since uni started? You don't think so.

You open some drawers and find trash bags and dish soap and, thank the heavens, rubber gloves as well. You look for your phone and find it on the nightstand; plugged in.

He was even mindful enough to plug your phone in? That's sweet. You open Crunchyroll and lean the phone against the top shelf, then you start by sorting through the dishes. Sometimes you let it get this bad too. You don't judge him for it. It is what it is. You are in the zone super quickly, not realizing he approaches.

“You don't have to do that?”

Your body flashes with a current as his aura washes over you. He stands too close. You can feel the soft warmth of his body radiating.

You look up at him. “I know. I want to. Do you mind?”

“Do girlfriends do that?”

What a weird question? You shrug it off. “Well… if their boyfriend struggles then I think girlfriends help and support but a girlfriend is not a mother, of course.”

“I see,” he nods.

“I'm doing it as a thank you. Is that cool?”

“I guess. What are you watching?” He squints at your phone.

“Sugar apply fairytale… it's shojo.”

He nods. His gaze is so intense. You don't know what he wants. You can't read him one bit. Come of it… He reminds you a lot of Shall Fen Shall. “Do you want me to go?”

His eyebrows pinch and he itches at his neck again. “N-no? I don't… mind you being here.”

“Then let me clean to compensate you for all the inconvenience and we call it even and I'll be out of here?” You smile.

Tomura nods. “Do you want headphones? You can barely hear?” He says and mentions to the phone. He opens his backpack and gives you his overhead headphones then returns to his desk.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

You finish the kitchen and remember that you wanted to make tea. Now you have clean cups for that. You get the cattle going again and add a tea bag. You turn to Tomura.

“Shoot, you dingus!” He raises his voice a little. It's followed by a little laugh. You smile.

You push one of the ear cuffs back and step up to him. “Do you want tea?” You smile.

Tomura looks up at you, his eyes are kind of wide and his lips slightly parted. “Y-yes.”

The cattle clicks and you pour the water into the cups.

“Shut up. My girlfriend’s with me.”

Funny. Real comedian.

“Shut up. No… you don't know her. No! I am not making it up! I won't turn my camera on.”

“Hi, Tomura's friend,” you say as you put the cup on the desk. You wink at him and move on to the bathroom.

“I won't tell you. Shut up now. Let's game.”

But somehow Tomura can't really concentrate anymore. He watches the tea steam and takes a sip. “Of course she's cute. She's beautiful. Don't ask me that stuff. Shut up, Spin! I'm logging off.”

“Tomura?” You peek your head out from the bathroom.

“Just shut up!” He presses a button harshly and takes off his headset. “Yes?”

“Do you know that you have to clean your shower?” You ask. It's not accusatory or judgemental. It's a question. “Did anyone show you how to clean? Like your family?”

He blinks. But why… there is water running down the shower… why clean it? He doesn’t understand.

You have your answer. “Give me your tiktok? I will send you some good cleantok videos that explain how it works. That's how I learned it too.”

“Okay. T-thank you.”

He watches how you start to scrub the shower floor. “What are you playing?”

“Mostly fps games,” he shrugs.

Frames per second? What? No… that cannot be it. “Ah. Are you good at it?”

He nods– shrugs. “You could say that.”

You tug your hair back and use his headphones to keep it out of your face. It's really cute. He likes it.

“Are you hungry?” Tomura asks and grabs his phone.

“I mean… yeah.”

“Sushi? I pay.”

“Isn't that too expensive?” You frown.

“No?” He doesn't understand the question.

“Okay?” Is he secretly rich?

You finish up and sit back on his bed with your now lukewarm tea, watching his screen. FPS must stand for first person shooter. You giggle.

“What?” Tomura looks at you. He immediately thinks he did something awkward.

“You said FPS and I study Animation, right, so to me that means frames per second,” you explain.

“Oh,” his lips curl a little. “That is funny.”

“Yeah. What do you study?”

“Business.”

“Oh?” Your face twists in utter surprise. “I didn't expect that. Do you like it?”

“Enough,” he shrugs. “My dad makes me do it.”

“Ah… I understand,” you nod and bring the cup up to your lips. “I hate my dad, too.”

Tomura chokes on his tea and looks at you.

You shrug. “What?” You laugh. “Am I wrong?”

“No,” he chuckles. “I hate him.”

“Boyfriend–girlfriend bonding,” you go along with the joke.

“Yes,” he smiles a little.

The food is delivered and you watch how he turns one of his screens toward the bed then opens Crunchyroll. He searches for Sugar Apple Fairytale.

“What episode are you on?”

“5.” You watch him closely. He is cute for letting you watch your thing. The boys you dated always whined when you said you love romance anime. You think it's cute. He is cute. In a harmless way. He isn't really your type but Tomura is cute. Are you blushing?!

Tomura starts the episode and sits down next to you. “What is it about?”

“Fairies! It is Grumpy x Sunshine which is one of my favourite tropes!”

You spend a few more hours together, mostly decluttering and then it is time for you to go back to your own dorm. You almost don't want to leave. Something about Tomura's presence is making you feel safe and at ease.

“Thank you again,” you bow to him as you stand in the hallway. “It could have… ended badly.”

“Just give me a call if you need me. You have my number now,” he nods and tries to smile a bit.

“Thank you,” you nod and want to turn away but he leans in and presses a kiss to the top of your head. You freeze.

“Goodbye, gf. Thank you for… the cleaning, you know. I'll do my best to not let it get that bad again.”

“It was the least I could do… bye.”

Oh, the joke may have gone a bit too far now.

》》》》

You are sitting with Ochako scribbling a storyboard for one of your classes. You are telling her all about that night. What Izuku and co probably have done and that Tomura Shigaraki saved you.

“Shigaraki?!” She looks at you, deadpanning. “Holy shit, stay away from him!”

“Huh,” you look up and blink at her. “I just told you that he–”

“He killed his family? You don't know that? And he's kinda famous and has like crazy fangirls I hear. He's also super weird and creepy.”

“Izuku stalks and drugs me and you focus on some rumors and Tomura being– well, nerdy and emo? He is nice.” It fills you with rage. You don't know why. You don't have to be protective of him… he's a stranger. He is not your boyfriend. You really know nothing about him at all… why if he's–. “Let's not talk about it.” What's this about him killing his family? This is ridiculous? You sigh and turn back to the page but the sun gets blocked suddenly.

You look up. “Tomura!” He has the hood of his sweater pulled up over his pale blue hair and he looks even more exhausted than before. His lips are more cracked as well. You honestly just want to give him a lip balm.

“(Y/N), hello,” he nods. “How have you been?”

“Good? What about you?” You smile.

“Yeah.” You notice he avoids the question and instead opens his backpack and gets out a bookstore bag. “Here.”

You frown but take it. Did you forget something at his place? “What is it?” You look inside to find 3 volumes of a manga you have been meaning to pick up for a while.

“The women said it is grumpy x sunshine… so I got it for you,” Tomura rasps. “I read them already so we can talk about it. I have to go to class now.” He awkwardly leans down and presses a kiss to your temple.

Your eyes are the size of the moon in utter shock and your stomach churns. What is going on? What in the world is happening? You stuff your things into your bag and run after him, abandoning Ochako.

“Tomura, hold up!”

“Hm?” He turns.

“What is this about?” You can hardly hear yourself over how loud your heart beats. No you have an idea but… that is so ridiculous.

He blinks and sighs. “I-is it wrong? Did I act wrong? I googled and it said to make your girlfriend gifts and show interest in the things she likes. Do I need to do it differently? Tell me! I'll do better!”

Your stomach sinks as it dawns on you. His jokes… It never was a joke. He does not make jokes. Oh god. He really thinks… he took you seriously? No way. And now he looks at you like a wounded puppy. He is really worked up about it? He is putting in so much effort. How could you possibly crush him?! No. No. You can't do it. Holy shit. How did you get in this situation?!

“No! You are fine! Just–”

“Shiggy, we'll be– Oh, is that your girlfriend? No way… you didn't lie,” a pink haired guy walks up next to him, putting an arm around his shoulders. “Hi, I'm Spinner.”

“(Y/N), hi,” you say.

Tomura blinks at you. Did you want to say something or not? Did he already fuck up? He hates being this way. It is so weird how he got a girlfriend… he didn't think it would happen that way. He does not want to lose you already.

“Let's meet later?” You ask.

“Okay,” Tomura nods.

Oh god. You have to tell him somehow. How do you let him down gently though? You have no idea. You don't know anything about each other. How can he believe that you are dating… this is so strange. But you are so very aware he isn't doing it with any bad intentions… he truly doesn't know better and that makes it so hard to let him know this was never real.

You can hardly concentrate the rest of the day. You come up with every possible conversation starter for telling Tomura that you're not a couple but nothing seems sufficient.

And when you see him waiting for you outside your building, your heart just breaks. Your thinking shifts suddenly. What if you accidentally got a boyfriend? Would that be so bad? He's a cool guy… you'd just have to get to know– no… that just wouldn't be fair at all. It would be a lie… it would be out of pity.

“Hi, Tomura,” you try to smile and sit down next to him. People rush home around you as you sit on the stairs leading to the building.

“Hi.”

“We have to talk,” you say and watch how his eyes darken with sadness. Already? No no no.

“Oh… I read that's what girlfriends say when they break up. No… it's fine. I know I'm…. A degenerate.” It's like you can physically see him become smaller, shrinking. It is sad. You don't have the heart. Holy shit you want to scream. He looks so exhausted – exhausted that it is so hard to connect with people and that no one understands him.

You can't do it.

“Did you spent the last few days researching how relationships work?” You crook an eyebrow at him. He gives a nod. “You're cute.”

“Huh?” His mouth gapes ever so slightly and his eyes widen at you.

“Let's spend some time together tonight?” You ask. “Grab some dinner and do some class work?”

“O-okay?” You are weird but he doesn’t care. He knows he's desperate but he has been thinking about you nonstop. The way you just helped him get his apartment back on track and then also send him resources so he can learn how to clean for himself. Just because you wanted to help him… he can't let it go. It makes him feel so… heard. You didn't scold or judge him. You just helped.

You get up. “Let's just go to the cafeteria?” You are broke as fuck this month and couldn't afford anything else.

“Okay?” If that's what you want.

“Spinner seems nice,” you say. “Is he your best friend?”

“Yeah.”

You puff out some air. He's hard to have conversations with.

“The girl you were with, is she your best friend?”

Oh, a question. “Ochako is my roomie. We are pretty close,” you smile. “My best friend is back home though.”

“I don't have any friends back home,” he chuckles. You look at him worried. Tomura waves his hands and smiles. “Oh, no. I meant that in a… you know… funny way.”

“I see,” you smile. “So, I have heard some things about you.”

Tomura feels his chest tighten. You are still talking to him though so… maybe you haven't heard too much.

“Are you a famous gamer or something?”

“Oh… yeah. I stream and post on YouTube,” he says quietly.

“That's so cool. My bestie does that too. It's crazy how involved people get. So… you have like a fan base and all?”

Tomura nods. “Some of the hardcore fangirls won't like I have a girlfriend now… but I don't have to tell anyone about you yet… right?” He looks at you for confirmation.

You nod instantly, eyes a bit wide. “Wait… just how famous are you? Is that why you didn't want me to see your tiktok?” You frown and move your head closer. He only gave you his number so you had to send him links… you didn't understand why but brushed it off.

Tomura can smell your perfume for a second and nearly trips over his own shoes. You catch him, grabbing his arm. “Watch out,” you smile softly.

Oh, your smile. Tomura feels lightheaded every time. “S-sorry.” Your smile is what really gets to him… you smile so freely. He loves it so much.

“What for? How old are you by the way?”

“22. You?”

“Me too.’

He nods. “So… you're not from here?”

“Nope. I am a whole country gal.”

Tomura smiles subtly. “I see.” You're weird but so cool. He wants to spend every free second with you. Oh damn… does that make him a… simp?! “Do you play any games?”

“Not really but I'm up for trying! Will You teach me?”

“Yes! Sure! Of course! I think I know a game you could like.”

You look up at him and smile. He looks so excited and your stomach churns. Maybe this isn't too bad? You will just see where this goes? Maybe you end up falling for him? Some fake dating plot turning real? Why not… he seems to be fine with the situation as it is right now?

“Oh–”

Tomura grabs your arm and pulls you into his side. You were so focused on his joy that you must have missed someone coming the other way.

“Are you okay, (Y/N)?” Tomura asks.

“Yes… thank you,” you tell him then swiftly turn. “I am so sor– Izuku.”

“(Y/N)! Didn't see you there!” He beams. He always beams and it is such a creepy smile. Izuku makes the hair on the back of your neck stand with fear. It is the first time you see him since the party and your body freezes completely. “Sor–”

“Shut the fuck up!” Tomura barks and steps in front of you. “You did it on purpose, do you think I'm fucking stupid?” He shoves at Izuku.

“Tomura…” You look at him in utter confusion. Not at what he says… he might as well be right. Izuku seems to always be the one you physically bump into… weirdly enough. You are confused about the volume that Tomura's voice can climb to. You didn't expect it. There is so much rage inside of him.

“Wow… call your guard dog back,” Izuku laughs. “I am glad you're fine.” Izuku reaches out to touch your arm but Tomura intercepts the touch.

“Fuck off,” he tells the taller Izuku and Izuku leaves with a last look at you. What a fucking creep?! Tomura saw it. He saw it. How dare he?!

“Tomura?”

Tomura turns to look at you and his stomach sinks. He fucked up now. Oh, he really did fuck it. He shouldn't have done that. Why is he so incapable? Why does he ruin everything?

You watch how his hands fly up to his neck and start scratching violently. You reach your hand out but he backs away.

“I have to go,” he chokes out and hurries into the opposite direction. Running away is better than facing you. He does not want to see you look at him with fear… just like his–

Your body doesn't move for a moment. What are you doing? You are not really dating this guy? Why do you care? Your heart races in your ribcage begging your body to move.

“Tomura!” You run and catch up with him. “Are you okay? What's– oh god– stop!” You grab his wrists. “You're bleeding.”

And then somehow he ends up in your dorm room, sitting on your bed as you gather some band aids. Tomura has no recollection of how he got here. Its a blur. He thinks your hand was holding his. Now he is looking at your manga collection in the soft warmth of fairy lights, smelling clean laundry and your parfum.

“You have a lot of pillows,” he says.

“Yeah,” you shrug.

“I once read that lonely people sleep with more pillows.”

You blink at him. “Okay? You have a lot of pillows too.” You frown and kneel down on the bed beside him. You use a damp cloth first and clean up the dried blood. “What was that about?”

“I don't know… got nervous.”

“Don't lie.”

He looks at you. Everyone else would have run away at how weird he acted. “Aren't you… mad?”

“I am worried? Why would I be mad?” He truly is a mystery. “Are you okay?”

He doesn't answer. You put bandaids on his scratches and sit back. He looks like a wet dog now. Slouching, making himself small and wanting to be anywhere but here. What changed all of a sudden? You are so confused. You want the Tomura back that was starting to get comfortable.

You lean close and place a kiss on one of the bandaids. Tomura jolts back and looks at you bewildered. “Makes it heal quicker,” you say.

“That's not… medically proven, is it?” He rasps.

“It's real,” you smile. “Will you tell me why you got so upset?”

He doesn't get it. Why aren't you upset? You should be upset?! Tomura sighs and drops onto your pillows.

You look at him with a tight frown. He's not your boyfriend… so why… because he needs it? Is that? Your helper syndrome always kicks in at the worst times.

You lay down too, making him the little spoon. Your hands are reluctant, careful, as you sling one arm around him. You feel him stiffen up instantly.

“Is that okay?” You ask.

He nods. “Just… unfamiliar.” He pauses. “But I like it.”

You nuzzle your face into his back. Maybe he's right. Maybe you're terribly lonely… Maybe this is okay. You like it too.

“Izuku did do it on purpose. He always does.” You murmur.

“I… still shouldn't have–”

“I remember what you said at the party. Why be nice to my stalker? Like… duh… why didn't I think of that.”

Tomura snorts. “What? Someone puts a gun to your head and you smile?” Maybe it is because you're from the country side. Maybe you are too nice? Is that possible? Tomura wishes more people would be too nice then.

“Probably.”

He chuckles but gets quiet. “My dad… he doesn't want me to act… like that.”

Like that? Aggressive? Protective? “You protected me… I think that was fair. You said yourself that is what boyfriends are supposed to do.”

Tomura stays quiet. His hand slowly moves to yours and your fingers lock together. He feels so torn. This feels so good. You are so warm and soft and it makes him feel warm and soft for a change… but at the same time it is terrifying. Tomura knows he's not worthy of things like this. Yet…

You squeeze him a little. “Your dad sounds like a dick.”

Tomura laughs. It is a real laugh. He does not know where it comes from and you don't know why it makes your chest feel tight. You pull away and plop yourself on your elbow, looking at him.

“Your laugh is pretty,” you smile.

He blushes and looks away.

“So… the itching is a tick? Do you do something to cope instead of hurting yourself?” You ask.

“Why do you ask that so casually?” He sigh.

You don't understand the question. What else are you supposed to do? It is obvious and it is okay. “It is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I have fidget toys on my keychain.”

“Why didn't you use them?”

“Huh? Because you would have thought I was weird!?” He raises his head to look at you.

“You're already weird,” you say. “That's nothing bad, though? I draw furry porn when I need money… that's weird too. If it keeps you from hurting yourself… Please use them. I won't judge.”

Quiet.

“Can I see?” He frowns.

You chuckle and get your phone out showing him the folder. His jaw drops.

“What the… fuck?” Tomura looks at you.

“Furries pay so well,” you say.

Tomura laughs again. “What else do you draw? Anime porn?”

“Am I so easy to read?” You grin. “My Sukuna porn is very popular.”

“Sukuna?!”

“With the 4 arms.”

“No.”

“Yep.”

“Show.”

“You need to unlock that part of lore first.”

He smiles. “I see.”

Your eyes lock and there is so much softness in the gaze you share. No… he's full of softness. And he wants to let it out, he begs to share it. Your chest feels tight again.

The door clicks open and you both sit up quickly.

“Oh?” Ochako says.

“Hi!” You say and jump off the bed. “Tomura, Ochako. It was an emergency,” you say and grab the first aid kid, putting it back.

Tomura waves at Ochako. “Hi.”

Ochako just grimaces. You frown.

“I should go,” Tomura gets up and takes his bag. “Thank you, (Y/N),” he says and bows to you.

“Yeah? No problem? Will you be okay?” You hurry after him as he walks to the door a bit too quickly.

“Sure. Bye.”

The door closes, leaving you confused again.

“Please, don't bring him here, okay?” Ochako says. “He's not a good guy.”

“What do you mean?” You look at her with squinted eyes. “Like… what? He's–” You sigh. You don't want to fight.

“Is he not leaving you alone after what happened at the party?” Ochako unpacks her bag. “That's scary.”

Huh?! She has never said that about Izuku once and Izuku has been forcing his way into your room before. “No… we wanted to hang out.”

“But you're not for real dating, right?” Ochako looks at you like you're crazy.

Your tongue doesn't work for a second then your phone rings. “That's my bestie. I gotta–” You take your phone and walk outside sitting down in the empty hallway. How will you tell him about this? He will burn you alive. “Yes?”

“Sup, girlie?”

“Too much. I accidentally got a boyfriend.”

“– what?! How do you accidentally get a boyfriend?! Explain that shit to me.”

You tell him the story leaving out some things. You don't tell Touya about the spiked drink. You know he'd raise hell and Izuku would walk out of it with broken bones. “And now… now I kinda think I wanna see where this goes. He's cute… maybe something–”

“Bitch, it's all a lie, tho? Is that fair to him?”

“I get what you're saying but I think I would… I think telling him that I never meant to actually date him and it was just to scare off Izuku… He'd be crushed and discouraged.”

“How the hell did you get in this situation? And why the fuck would you not clear it up? Are you taking drugs or something?”

“I have no idea,” you whine. “You should have come by and dealt with Izuku, I guess.”

“Didn't you say you don't like violence?” His breathy laughs rings.

“I changed my mind. Why be nice to Izuku… right?”

“Oh… ya boyfriend has a good influence on you?”

“Shut up?” You smile. “He's cool. He plays games too. FPS or whatever.”

“Immediate red flag.”

“Oh, cmon. He's nice.”

“I'm your bestie. I have to hate your boyfriend… even if he's just an accidental one. You will have to tell him eventually.”

“I know… I will. I just… I think he needs the safety, you know? Don't worry.”

“Tsk. You have a stalker and an accidental boyfriend… sure I worry.”

“Touya.”

“Gotta log in to my gaming sesh, will you be okay?”

“Yes. Have fun! Oh! Will you like… make a list with gamer abbreviations. Like what is afk?”

Touya laughs and the line goes dead.

You get up and walk back inside and Ochako stands right at the door. You frown, a suspicious feeling washes over you but you brush it off unknowingly of what's to come.

Your phone lights up again. You shouldn't feel so happy seeing his name. But then again… Why not? It's so weird. You didn't think this is how you'd get a boyfriend.

[Tomura Shigaraki, party bf:] good night <3

going home

CHAPTER 1

bnha masterlist

pairing: tomura shigaraki x fem reader

summary: Stranded in another world that eerily follows the plot of your favourite manga, you find yourself sucked into the story, trapped on the side of the villains. You're just a girl who knows too much and wants to go home, but with Tomura Shigaraki watching you, escape won't be easy.

notes: I know this is a kinda cringey premise but I've had this idea trapped in my head for months and I love shigaraki so here.

chapter contains: attempted sexual assault (not shigaraki), canon typical violence

——————————————————————————————————

Shigaraki

Tomura was in a bad mood. 

This whole business with the Hero Killer had really pissed him off. Made worse by the fact that the media was still looping his arrest footage, his oh so tragic backstory. Every convenience store and outlet on the way back from the mall was running it.  

But what about his Nomu? They’d terrorized Hosu. They should be on the front page. He’d attacked the USJ. His master had promised that the world would learn to fear him. This was bullshit. Fucking Stain .  

Tomura ducked his head low beneath the dark shadow of his hood, keeping to the alleys and deserted side streets on his way back to the bar. The sun was dipping below the horizon, night rising, but it was still best to be careful. After all, he’d just held that Midoriya kid hostage at the mall and there were bound to be heroes looking for him by now. They could look all they liked, with Father in his pocket instead of on his face, he’d be unrecognizable. Unlike Stain, his face wasn’t being blasted on TVs across Japan.  

At least that little mall trip had helped. Tomura was still pissed, but now he had some clarity, something to work for. Killing All Might and forcing this rotten society to question just how secure its sense of peace and justice was. Yeah , he liked the sound of that.  

He grinned and kicked a can down the street. It clanked against the pavement in a hollow roll, but its tin-rattle was quickly drowned out by the voices Tomura heard in the next lane over.  

He slipped around the corner and raised a brow at the scene before him.  

There was a woman on the ground in a pile of rubbish and a blanket, looking wide-eyed up at two guys standing above her. She looked like shit, but that didn’t seem to phase the men. They were practically licking their lips as they leered down at her ragged figure. Gross .  

Tomura thought he might have seen them around before, they were pretty generic looking; just two NPCs playing at being villains. Clearly low level. The taller one had no obvious quirk, and his hair stuck up in pineapple spikes, sleeve tattoos plastered to his skin. The shorter one, who was now grabbing the woman roughly by her shirt and yanking her up, had massive radio-dish ears – a hearing quirk of some sort. Potentially useful.  

“Pretty stupid of you to be sleeping out here where anyone could grab ya!” said Radio-Head.  

The woman leaned as far back as she could. “Let me go!” she said, in English.  

Tomura raised his other brow. He could understand English well enough, though he was better at reading than speaking. His master had wanted him prepared to make allies with whomever it took, Japanese or foreigner. Still, it was jarring to hear her English against the familiar Japanese of the two men who had her.  

“Foreigner?” said Pineapple-Head. “No way. This is great!” 

“Yeah, means she won’t go to the heroes. They’d never believe her!” Radio-Head yanked her close and she yelped, kicking out at his knees only to be pressed against the rough brick of the alley wall. “Isn’t that right lovely?”  

“Fuck off! Let me go!” she said, again in English. She bit Radio-Head's fingers when he tried to press a palm over her mouth.  

He jumped back and Pineapple-Head pinned her arms instead. “You good?” he asked.  

“Fucking bitch bit me!”  

Tomura had had enough of watching this cutscene like some creepy vouyer. He shoved his hands in his pockets, pinkies tucked into his palms, and slipped out of the shadows, heading down the alley toward the bar. The two men startled, caught like misbehaving kids. Pineapple-Head almost jumped out of his tattoos. Radio-Head pulled out a knife and stood in the way. He hid his throbbing fingers. Tomura smirked. Heh . The woman was clearly pretty stupid if she let herself be caught sleeping out here, but at least she wasn’t just rolling over for these losers. Even now, she was trying to wriggle free as the men glared Tomura down like he was a threat, a bigger dog who might wrench away their bone. 

“Fuck are you doing here?” Radio-Head said. “Can’t you see this alley’s taken? 

“Yeah, piss off man!” said Pineapple-Head in the lamest gangster voice ever. 

Tomura scowled. Who the hell were these bastards to tell him to leave? Did they have any idea who they were dealing with?  

The woman called out this time. “Help!” she said and strained towards him.  

Tomura’s scowl only deepened. What, did she think he was her hero or something? This was her own mess. He needed to get back to the bar before Kurogiri bugged him. Plus, he had those new recruits to deal with – the crazy girl and the ugly guy with patchwork scars.  

“Get going before I make you!” said Radio-Head, brandishing his knife. It gleamed white in the rising moonlight. The bastard was all confidence as he barrelled closer.  

Tomura didn’t like that. Didn’t appreciate being threatened .  

He huffed. “You really think you could make me leave?” And he took a step forward, fingers itching in his hoodie, the weight of Father suddenly heavier. He was just going to leave; this woman wasn’t his problem. But these cocky assholes were just begging to be destroyed.  

And besides, he was still in a bad mood .  

Pineapple-Head was starting to move his palms toward the woman’s chest when Radio-Head lurched forward. The knife swiped in an ungraceful arch, missing Tomura almost comically. Off balance, Radio-Head fell forward, caught only by four fingers.  

“You know, you really should be more careful with that thing.” The knife clattered against the ground as Tomura pressed a fifth finger down. “Somebody might get hurt .” 

Radio-Head couldn’t even scream as his body turned to ash.  

“What the fuck?!” Pineapple-Head, finally catching on, forgot the woman and dashed for Tomura. He had no weapons, but he extended a palm and blinding light spewed out in an arrow. An emitter quirk, then.  

Tomura ducked it but had to squint as he reached out and held Pineapple-Head's face in his palm. The creep struggled and gasped, a fish on the chopping block, as veins of decay spread over his skin. He didn’t turn straight to dust, but rather, fell to the floor in chunks. His blood ran in lines through the grooves of the pavement.  

Tomura grinned. The thrill of destruction coursed through him, had his heart pounding. He’d killed them. The incessant itch that had bothered him since the Stain incident dissipated just a bit and he breathed deeply. Damn that felt good.  

“You killed them.”  

Oh, right. He forgot about her. 

The woman had cowered back in her nest of squalor, palms pressed flat to the ground, back against the wall, eyes rimmed with the glass of coming tears. She cast her gaze between her villainous saviour and the two dead piles of men.  

“Yeah, I did,” Tomura said in English. He grinned wider and stepped toward her. One more kill couldn’t hurt. Besides, this woman had seen his face. Seen him kill. It’s not like he could let her live.  

But as he approached, fingers poised to kill, she suddenly stood up. “Thank you!” she said. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She whispered it to herself, over and over, lowering her head in relief.  

Tomura hesitated. His movements stuttered. Was she seriously thanking him right now?  

She looked up at him, and there was something sickly about her that made Tomura almost feel sorry for her. A pallidness, a darkness. An otherness. She looked like she'd been sleeping in this alley for a while. She looked pathetic.  

Tomura pursed his lips and shook his hood back on. “Whatever,” he said in Japanese. He walked away, reaching for Father, for the sick comfort of the hand over his face. He really should kill her. He headed back toward the bar. 

“Wait!” Footsteps.  

Tomura ignored her, feeling an itch creep up his neck. The woman jogged up beside him, following.  

“Hey, please!”  

He could feel her looking at him as she struggled to keep pace. Would she just piss off already before he changed his mind? He didn’t have time for this side quest. “Go away.”  

“I need help.” 

The itch grew worse. “Do I look like a hero to you?” Tomura hissed.  

She stepped in front of him. "Please. Can you-" she paused, looked up at the hand on his face. Recognition lighted her eyes. She backed away. "Oh, you're..."

Her back was against the alley wall in a second, Tomura’s four fingered grip around her throat. He squeezed hard. He itched harder. This was more like it, the fear in her eyes, not that sappy gratefulness. Finally, someone who knew who he was.

He bared his teeth, scarred skin pulling tight. "Oh, you recognise me? That's nice."

The woman couldn't even speak.

“I did tell you to piss off,” he mumbled in Japanese, a little lightness entering his voice, a little laughter. He reached up and scratched, nails dragging coarse red lines over his neck. So itchy. “I'm glad to be noticed," he switched back to English, "but can't have you running to tell the heroes where I am, so...”

He pressed his fifth finger down.  

And nothing happened.  

No relief, no thrill, no death. The woman stared down at him, her pulse rapid in her throat. She didn’t decay. Tomura pressed in harder, as though he could tear into her flesh and turn her to dust. But she just wheezed. His quirk had no effect on her.  

His bloodshot eyes went wide. Why the hell wasn’t she dying ?  

“ Please ,” she said. "Don't."

Tomura sucked in a harsh breath; his eyes slitted into vicious papercuts. It must be her quirk. Some sort of immunity, like Eraserhead. He was touching her, skin to skin, hand on neck, and she wasn’t dead.

“What’s your quirk?” he demanded.  

The woman grimaced, tugging at his hand. “Quirk?”  

“Yeah. Tell me.” Tomura leaned closer, breath on her face. He needed to know. He needed...

But no amount of closeness could have prepared him for her response.  

She took a weak breath and shook her head. “I don't have a quirk...”  

Before Tomura could even understand what she meant, her eyes slipped closed and her head lulled into strangled unconsciousness.  

if you would please write loser boyfriend shigaraki who gets jealous of others comments about you and takes fem!reader home to fuck her dumb, it would me really happy 👽

“𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞“

pairing; loser bf!shigaraki x fem!reader

cw; nsfw, oral (m!receiving)

a/n; I feel like this is so bad

“those fucking idiots think they have a chance with my girl, would you give them a chance baby” he knows you can’t respond as he has his fingers down your throat leaving your mouth open as he fucks you in vengeance, punishing you for what others say.

this has happened on more than one occasion, in passing he’ll hear others make a comment about your body and he’ll come home to take out his frustrations out on you. “yeah you’re sexy but you’re fucking mine. they don’t deserve to even look at you. filthy pigs.”

to others he may seem weak and scrawny, but when he has you fucked out on all fours thrusting you from behind pace unrelenting, pushing you into the bed the force of his thrusts causing the bed to shake and the headboard to hit the wall, he doesn’t seem meek at all.

“tell me baby, do you think they’d fuck you better than I can” it’s hard for you to speak with the way he’s hitting you g-spot on point with every thrust making your eyes roll back but you manage to shake your head. “that fucking right, only I can fuck you like this. you belong to me. i own this pussy. no-one else can have you.”

the two of you could be out together on a date and he would hear someone snickers something like “what a waste” or “she could do better” and as soon as you get home before you can even lock the did behind you he have you on your knees as he whips out his cock for you to suck. grabbing you hair making you gag on his cock.

“why would you need better when you have me, all you need is a cock to suck. mine does the job doesn’t it?” his cock slips out and it slaps against your face smearing spit on your face and he watches as you slip it back into your mouth.

“see look at you, all you are is a cock hungry slut. isn’t that what you are?” you nod your head agreeing to him in a cock drunk state starting up at him through wet lashes, your face a mess from you tears and spit.

to others on the outside you’re the cheerful girlfriend with. her loser boyfriend that walks around with her stalking behind her, but at home you worship him and his cock as they are the only thing you need to live.

you know that he loves you and he know that you would never leave him but he also knows that you live it when he gets jealous and fucks you till you can’t remember your own name.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“It’s not easy to talk about, but…”

Autistic!Tomura Shigaraki, QPR, GN!Reader, Discussions of Pain

The whole time you’ve known him, you’d never describe Tomura as someone who really complains. He’ll frustratedly talk about games levels that he’s stuck on or how hot it is, any little thing that doesn’t really matter, but if something is really, genuinely bothering him, he keeps it to himself.

It’s really hard for him to talk about the things that bother him, especially if the kind of help he needs is something he’d have to talk to a stranger about. You understand that he’s had a rough time with professionals, so you’ve never pushed him on it.

You were getting started on breakfast when he says he wants to talk to you sometime about something important. “It doesn’t have to be now, or even today, but just…. Sometime. Is that okay?” He’s clearly very nervous bringing it up, and you can tell it’s important to him. He doesn’t look at you when he says it, but that’s not unusual for him.

It ends up being almost a week later when Tomura approaches you again to finally sit down and talk. He fidgets with his phone, likely with notes of what he wants to say. He takes a deep breath before he starts.

“It’s not easy to talk about, but I don’t want to be in pain anymore… I just don’t know how not to be…”

You sit quietly, just listening to him talk for the longest time. He’s done a lot of reading and tried to figure out what’s been happening to his skin his whole life on his own but he just can’t do it. He’s tried soothing creams, numbing creams, anti-inflammatory gels, everything, anything, but they just makes it hurt more or make it hurt differently. He’s tired. Tired of waking up in the middle of the night unable to stop scratching. He tried wearing gloves to bed, he’s tried trimming his fingernails super short, he’s tried anything he could think of. It wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t causing open scratches all over his body all the time.

“It’s hard to take care of a body that burns and bleeds when you’re just trying to clean and care for it.” Tomura says, kneading the bottom hem of his hoodie with his hands.

There are the beginnings of tears welling in his eyes as he’s clearly frustrated and embarrassed at not being able to solve it on his own.

Eventually he gets quiet, and lays back. He takes a breath, before continuing. “I don’t even know if it’s a real itch at this point. I’ve thought about it being some kind of nervous tic, or compulsive behavior, maybe a mix of a few things, I’m just….”

The tears roll down the side of his face, but he wipes them on his hoodie sleeve.

“… I don’t want everything to hurt anymore.”

You ask if you can give him a hug, and he says yes. He sits up so you can wrap you arms around him for a moment. That seems to help soothe him, if only a bit.

It’s definitely a long road ahead, but you tell him that you can help advocate for him and be there to support him if he wants to find someone to talk to about these kinds of problems. He looks nervous at that, but you assure him that you can start as small as he needs to. He visibly relaxes, laying back down. He looks up at you, and pats for you to lie down next to him.

You lie back with him, just sitting there in silence for a little while. You know it’s not a lot, but just having you in his corner seems to make his whole disposition a little more hopeful.

just 🤌❤️

Break Time - A Shigaraki x Reader Fanfic

Summary: You're working as a waitress at a bar when Shigaraki comes in, leading to a wild hookup in the bathroom. Smut. 18+. Rough Sex. Any feedback at all would be deeply appreciated!

You didn’t notice when he walked in. Just another young man in a dark hoodie, he could have been anyone. But you noticed when he glanced up at you from his seat toward the back of the bar while you stood next to the table, ready to take his order. You knew who he was the moment your eyes met. You’d seen the pictures on the news, spread across social media, those scars along his lips, those piercing red eyes, the soft silver hair that peeked out from his hood. Sitting at the table, ordering a beer and some nachos, was Shigaraki Tomura, the current most dangerous villain.

You tried to play it cool. You didn’t want him to know you recognized him. It was obvious that he was trying to be discreet, maybe counting on the fact that this bar was basically a hole in the wall in a small rural area, where people mostly kept to themselves and minded their own business. Or maybe it was the fact that pictures of his face, without the creepy hand covering it, had only recently started circulating, so perhaps he thought most people wouldn’t be able to identify him.

Most people probably wouldn’t. But you were different. You’d been fascinated by Shigaraki from the moment he first appeared on the news, even with that hand hiding his face. There was something about him that intrigued you. And then, two weeks ago, pictures of his face started showing up online. When you saw that lovely face, those beautiful eyes, you thought you were looking at an angel. You had to keep reminding yourself that he’s a villain, that he’s killed innocent people. But you just couldn’t get that face out of your mind. Your phone was full of pictures of him, every one you could find online. If it was possible to be in love with someone you’d never met before, then you were in love with Shigaraki Tomura.

And now he was sitting right in front of you, just inches away.

With some effort, you get your racing heart to slow down. You write down his order and tell him you’ll bring it right out. He doesn’t reply so you walk away quickly, not wanting to linger and draw attention to yourself. When you take his beer and nachos to his table, you manage to keep your hands steady as you sit them in front of him. “Here you go,” you say in a cheery voice, trying to act normal. “Can I get anything else for you?”

He glances up at you again, and your breath nearly catches in your throat. Those eyes are so intense in person. You wish you could pull out your phone and take some photos of him, but you know that would be a terrible idea. He holds your gaze for just a moment before saying, “No, that’s all.”

It’s the first time you’ve heard his voice, and you love it. You get goosebumps along your arms. You desperately want to hear it again, so you try to continue this little conversation. “Alright. If you change your mind, let me know.” You smile brightly at him.

He looks away from you and to his plate as he mutters a quiet, “Thanks.”

You walk away, disappointed that you have no reason to talk to him more. You stand by the bar, hoping that he’ll need something and call you over. You find yourself staring at him, watching him eat, watching him hold the glass of beer without letting all four fingers touch it. Of course you know about his quirk. Everyone does. It sounded terrifying on the news, but even that couldn’t stop your fascination with him.

He suddenly looks toward the bar, toward you. The shock of his eyes on you causes you to hesitate before looking away. Did he notice you were staring? Does he know you recognize him? Will he use that terrifying quirk on you to silence you?

If so, then you might as well go for it. You could die tonight, a shy little virgin who never took a risk on anything in her life. Or you could die a woman who actually took a chance.

You grab a few napkins from under the bar and walk over to Shigaraki’s table. His eyes are on you every step of the way, and your heart is beating faster than ever. You drop the napkins on the table and smile at him again. “I thought you could use these. Nachos can get pretty messy.”

He looks mildly surprised, as if he wasn’t expecting you to say that. He picks up a napkin with his thumb and one finger and wipes at his mouth, even though there was nothing on it. You decide to try being a little playful.

“You missed a spot.” A lie.

He wipes his mouth again quickly and looks up at you.

You slide into the seat beside him and take one of the napkins from the table. “Here, let me,” you say, dabbing at the corner of his mouth.

He looks surprised by the gesture, his body seeming to tense up at your touch. Could it be that he’s not accustomed to being touched?

You blush and drop the napkin. “I’m so sorry! I wasn’t thinking.”

It’s his turn to stare at you. “Don’t worry about it,” he says as you stand up.

You take a deep breath. It’s now or never. Take the chance. You face him and meet his eyes. “Look, I’ve never done anything like this before in my life, but… I think you’re really hot. I get a break in twenty minutes. Do you wanna hang out?”

His eyes widen slightly. Whatever he expected you to say was clearly not this. You think you catch a hint of a blush on his pale cheeks. He looks away from you and asks, “Are you joking?”

“Not even a little bit,” you answer. “But feel free to turn me down. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry if I offended you.”

He looks back up at you again, studying your face. You can feel your cheeks burning. Your first time making a move on a guy, and it’s Shigaraki fucking Tomura. A guy who could and probably would murder you in seconds. You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until he speaks.

“I’ll think about it.”

You exhale. This is the most nervous you’ve ever been, but there’s a certain excitement, a thrill, to all of this. You leave his table without another word, too embarrassed to say anything else. Back at the bar, you watch the clock tick down the minutes until your break. Shigaraki has long since finished with his beer and food, and should probably have left by now. But he’s still here. Does that mean he’s going to take you up on your offer? And you said ‘hang out’, but what did you even mean by that? Your break only lasts half an hour. What could you possibly do in that amount of time?

Finally, the twenty minutes are up. You slip off your apron and give a meaningful glance at Shigaraki before heading into the restroom. You want to check your makeup and hair before going back out. You want to look your best after all. You stand in front of the mirror above the sink, looking over your reflection. “I can’t believe I did that,” you mutter.

Suddenly the restroom door opens and, in the mirror, you see Shigaraki step in. You whirl around to face him, suddenly very afraid. Has he come in here to kill you? Your heart sinks when he reaches down and locks the door, the sound of the thick metal deafening in the small restroom. You look at him pleadingly.

He steps closer to you, the hood pulled so low that you can barely see his eyes. “So how long is your break?” he asks.

You freeze. Why is he asking that? If he’s going to kill you, what does it matter how long your break is? “Uh, thirty minutes,” you manage to squeak out.

“Then I guess we better hurry,” he replies.

This is it. He’s going to kill you. He’s going to turn you into a pile of dust and blood. He reaches out his hand toward you, and you decide in that moment to not turn away from him. To look into those eyes until your last moment. At least you’ll go out looking at something beautiful.

You wait for his hand to close over your forehead, or your throat, or wherever he decides to strike. But instead, three of his fingers touch your shoulder lightly and pull you closer to him. Before you can sort through your confusion, Shigaraki leans forward and kisses your neck.

Huh? What? Why is Shigaraki Tomura kissing you?

Your mind races. Does he plan to fool around with you before killing you? He didn’t seem like that type of guy, but you don’t really know him at all. You lean back and look at his face, trying to discern something from his expression. It’s blank, as usual.

“This is what you want, right?” he asks, a tiny hint of a smirk on his lips.

That’s when it dawns on you. He assumed that by ‘hanging out’, you meant ‘hook up’. He thought you were asking him for sex. And he accepted! When that realization hits your brain, you’re suddenly aware of the fact that you want him. You want this man, badly. Right now. And judging by his actions, he wants you too. You’ve never done anything even remotely like this. To Shigaraki, this is clearly a random hook up. But to you it’s so much more. He can’t possibly know how much more.

“Yes, this is definitely what I want,” you say, almost breathless.

He kisses you, fast and almost rough, his hands moving over you, carefully not placing all five fingers on your skin. You should be worried about his hands. You should be scared absolutely shitless to have this man’s hands anywhere near you. But all you can focus on is his hungry mouth on yours, the feel of his surprisingly firm body pressing against your chest. Ah well. He’s had this quirk all his life, right? He must know how to avoid using it.

His tucks three fingers from each hand under the hem of your snugly fitting shirt and pulls it up, revealing your rather plain bra. You curse yourself for not wearing something prettier, but who knew something like this would happen? But if he’s disappointed, he doesn’t show any sign of it. In fact he barely seems to notice the bra before using the same maneuver to pull it up, causing your ample breasts to bounce free below it.

You blush crimson. Only one other guy has seen your bare chest, and that was in high school, when your then boyfriend demanded to see your tits or he would break up with you. He saw the goods, then broke up with you a week later anyway. Thankfully, that’s as far as you went with him. Or anyone, for that matter. Instinctively, you look away, fighting the urge to cover yourself with your arms.

Shigaraki just stares. He’s stopped touching you, probably sensing your discomfort. There’s a question in his eyes.

Finally, you speak, deciding to be honest. “I, uh…. I’ve never done this before,” you admit, feeling incredibly embarrassed.

There’s that subtle look of surprise again. He looks away from you for a moment and says in a quiet voice, “Me too.”

What does that mean? He’s never hooked up in a public restroom before? Never hooked up with a random waitress he just met? Or… could it be?

You decide to be more specific. “I’ve never… had sex before.”

Unfortunately, Shigaraki doesn’t elaborate on his earlier comment. He just nods and says, “Ah, okay.”

You almost break out the cliche “please be gentle” comment, but stop yourself. Shigaraki Tomura is not a gentle person. He’s a villain. You knew this all along. But do you even want him to be gentle?

He waits another moment, as if giving you a chance to back out. When you look at him with clear desire in your eyes, he suddenly pushes your back against the cold tile wall beside the sink. He presses his palms into your breasts, not letting even a single finger touch them, while lightly biting the soft skin of your neck.

Your breathing gets quicker, your mouth draping open and your eyes sliding closed. You’ve never been more turned on in your life. You want to pull his hoodie off, to see his bare torso, but he hasn’t made a move to remove any of his clothing and you’re not sure if you should try it. What if he has a lot of scars that he’s not eager to show off?

He slowly crouches down until he’s eye level with your waist. He looks you in the eyes as he unzips your skirt and lets it fall to the floor around your ankles. Then he hooks two fingers into the waistband of your panties and hesitates another moment. If you want him to stop, this is the time. But you don’t want him to stop. You’re embarrassed and terrified but more than anything else, you don’t want him to stop.

You close your eyes as he slips the panties down your hips and to your ankles, then reaches down to pull both skirt and panties away from your feet. Now all that’s left on you is a pair of sandals and your shirt and bra that have been pushed up, leaving you totally exposed. Heat burns your face, and you imagine you’re as red as a tomato. You glance at his face, trying to figure out if he likes what he sees or not, but his expression is as difficult to read as ever.

He stands up and lifts his hoodie a few inches, just enough for him to unbutton his jeans. That small glimpse of his skin around his navel is enough to drive you wild. Then he unzips his pants and pulls his cock out.

It’s hard, which gives you a small boost of confidence. He must find your body attractive. It’s also bigger than you expected. You’ve never seen one in person before, but somehow you assumed it would be smaller. You’re struck by the sudden urge to put it in your mouth, but you’ve never done that before and you’re not sure if you’d be any good at it. Would he be turned off if you gave a clumsy blowjob?

What the hell. You’ve come this far.

You drop down to your knees and reach out a shaky hand to gently grasp his cock. You look up at his face, and it’s still unchanged. You’d die to know what he’s thinking right now, but he’s not going to give you a clue. You pull your hair back behind your shoulder and lean in, wrapping your lips around his cock. You hear a sharp intake of breath and glance up. Shigaraki’s expression hasn’t changed much, but his eyes are a little wider, his teeth slightly visible above his bottom lip. You take that as a good sign and begin moving your lips along his length, back and forth, then you extend your tongue and run it over his tip. You remember your best friend from college telling you to treat a man’s dick like you would a popsicle. You hope she knew what she was talking about as you alternate between licking and sucking.

You tilt your head a bit so that you can see Shigaraki’s face. He’s staring at you with something like awe, as if he’s watching a magician perform an amazing trick. You blush but keep going, not wanting him to stop looking at you that way. Several minutes later, he draws his head back and inhales a sudden breath, and cums directly into your mouth. No warning, no asking if it was okay. You’re shocked by the flood of sticky liquid filling your mouth, sliding down your throat. You’re also not certain what you’re supposed to do. Spit it out? Swallow it? You decide to swallow without taking his cock out of your mouth. Your tongue still swirls around him while your throat works to take in every drop of his cum. When you finally pull away, he’s half hard again.

Is it your imagination, or is he breathing harder? His hood has fallen back, revealing a mess of silvery hair. God, he’s gorgeous.

You stand back up, still pinned in close to the wall by his body. He steps even closer, shoving one hand between your legs and making you instantly tense up in fear as you remember his quirk again. But he only uses two fingers to run along your slit, then slips them inside. It only takes a second for him to find your clit, his fingers a little too rough as they rub the tender flesh, scraping his nails across it. You make a little yelping sound and resist the urge to push his hand away, because despite being a little too rough, it feels good.

The pleasure spirals up into you, making you feel weak. Your legs are shaky, and you’re afraid you might collapse. The sensations are so intense that you almost want to get away from his hand, if only for a moment to catch your breath. But your back is against the wall and his fingers are merciless. You’re no stranger to touching yourself, usually while thinking of the very man who is in front of you right now, but doing it yourself is different. You can control the pressure, the speed, the intensity. Having someone else in control of that is scary but thrilling.

Finally, a powerful orgasm washes over you, leaving you shuddering and holding onto his shoulders for support. He withdraws his hand and examines it under the fluorescent lights of the restroom, and you can see the sticky fluid shimmering on his fingers. You wish the lights weren’t so damn bright in here. This is mortifying.

His eyes flick up to meet yours and he gives you the strangest look, the corners of his mouth lifting into a grin that bares his teeth. It’s the first time you’ve seen him smile, and you’re not sure if it’s sexy or horrifying. He seems a little different, maybe even a little smug, as if just realizing the effect he has on you.

He’s fully hard again, you notice, just as he lifts you up by your thighs and slams your back against the wall. Before you can even call out in surprise, you feel his entire cock shove itself inside you, all the way in on the first thrust. You gasp and then let out a whimper of pain, tears stinging your eyes. You didn’t know it would hurt this bad. You feel like something is ripping down there, and you feel what you can only assume is blood trickle down, wetting his cock even more than your arousal. He pulls out and thrusts in again, so deep and rough that you think he might break you. You scrunch your eyes shut and wrap your arms around him, burying your wet face in his neck.

He pushes you back to look at your face. “Does it hurt?” he asks, without stopping his violent thrusts.

“Yes,” you manage to choke out, “a lot. But… I like it.” And you do. You like it so much that it scares you. You never knew you were into this sort of thing, that you would enjoy being fucked so roughly, even on your first time.

“Good,” he says back with that eerie grin of his, red eyes shining. You don’t know if he means it’s good that it hurts or it’s good that you like it, and you don’t ask.

He continues thrusting, your whole body jolting each time. He’s so deep inside you that feel like the two of you are going to meld into one person. You want to feel every inch of him. He’s still wearing that slasher smile, watching your face, and you can’t imagine what sort of expressions you’re making as you pant and make little cries of pain and pleasure, tears still leaking down your cheeks.

Then, all at once, his gaze turns sharp and the smile disappears. “You know who I am, don’t you?” he asks, never dropping his rhythm of thrusts.

You look at him in shock, a sudden stab of fear in your gut. He knows you recognized him. He knows you could call the police, or the heroes, or even the media. For a moment, you can’t speak.

Shigaraki gives a particularly rough thrust, making your whole body bounce up and slam back into the wall. “Answer,” he says, his voice low.

“Y-yes. I know who you are,” you say.

“And you still wanted to fuck me?” There’s an almost mocking tone to his voice.

You look him in the eyes. “Yes.”

“Why?”

You wince as he continues thrusting. You don’t know if you’ll be able to walk tomorrow. “I… I’m a fan…”

“A fan of me?”

“Yes. I… collect pictures of you… on my phone.”

The grin returns to his face. “And what do you do with those pictures?”

Heat flushes your face again. “I… I just look at them.”

His grin is all teeth. His eyes look wild. “Is that all you do with them?”

Your breathing is ragged. You’re close to climaxing, you can feel it. You wrap your arms around him again, and this time he doesn’t push you back. “Ah… I… touch myself… while looking at them…”

You can’t believe you just admitted something so embarrassing. But you’re riding a wave of pleasure and fear and heat and you’re not thinking clearly.

Shigaraki chuckles softly against your ear, and you can’t see his face for his hair. You wonder what sort of expression he’s wearing now. His hands are on your thighs, only the pinky finger of each not touching you. The thought of the danger, of all the scary things he could do to you, pushes you over the edge. You cum, moaning loudly and collapsing against him, hiding your face in his hair. He gives a few more thrusts before he whispers, “Do you want me to pull out or…?”

“No! Don’t pull out!” You practically scream it. You want him to cum inside you. You want to feel it. Consequences be damned. Besides, you’re pretty sure this is a safe day.

Seconds later, you do feel it. You feel every drop shoot inside you. The two of you remain still for a few moments, pressed against the wall. Then, in a surprisingly gentle manner, he eases you down to let your feet touch the floor. Your whole body is trembling as you try to regain your balance while holding onto one of his arms. He steps back a bit to look you up and down.

You look down yourself and see the trickles of blood and cum dripping down your legs and making an obscene puddle on the floor. Shigaraki’s eyes seem to be glowing as he takes the image in. When you feel steady, you let go of his arm and pull your bra and shirt down, then head into the only stall to clean up a little. When you step out, Shigaraki is handing you your panties, his face having returned to his former unreadable expression. You put them on sheepishly, feeling shy all of a sudden.

As he picks up your skirt from the floor, your phone drops out of a pocket and he catches it with his thumb and finger. He reaches you the skirt but keeps the phone. As you step into it and pull it up, you glance over to see that he’s holding the phone up in a very familiar way, and then the sound of the camera.

Did he just take a selfie? With your phone?

He tosses the phone to you and grins again. “Thought you might want a new picture.”

You quickly open the photos app and look at the newest image. Sure enough, there he is, grinning at you from the screen. Your eyes light up as you look back to him. “Thanks!”

He blinks, seemingly caught off guard by your genuine happiness to have a picture of him. He shrugs and looks away. “You’re welcome.”

The two of you head out the door of the restroom, and you notice the clock on the wall. You’re late! You took way too long for your break! You sigh and head toward the bar to get your apron. “Oh man, my boss is gonna kill me.”

Shigaraki glances at the clock too as he heads toward the bar’s exit. Then he looks at you over his shoulder and says, “I’ll drop back in sometime. This place has great nachos.”

He gives a little wave as he disappears through the door, leaving you absolutely stunned. And even though your boss spends ten minutes chewing you out for taking an extra long break, you can’t stop yourself from smiling the rest of the night.

This is so toxic but somehow canon !😭✋✋

Your content is so awesome! I really loved your recent Yandere Yuji fic. Could I request a Yandere Dom!Shiggy spanking Reader piece because Reader was fighting him on something and he just got kind of frustrated and took it out on her?

Happy you enjoy my stuff. Hope you enjoy this too ♡

Tw: mdni!!, spanking, dom/sub dynamics, defo not a healthy relationship, yandere undertones, this is all just bc you didn't want to watch his favorite movie lmao, short

You watch how he suddenly gets up mid conversation and walks to his desk. You are perceptive to his mood but this confuses you. You were just trying to figure out what to watch.

"Tomura?"

He opens a drawer and gets out the leather gloves and your eyes widen. He only ever…

"Tomu?" Your heart starts beating immediately like it is conditioned… your dooming faith laid out bare before you.

"You're so damn annoying," Tomura breathes deeply. "Can't you just agree with me?! You should agree with me!" He laughs menacingly. "Lovers agree with each other, hm?"

"Tomura," you shift and tug your legs under you. "It's not that deep…. We were just trying to figure out what to watch… it's not– hhnn." He grabs your face and his eyes are so feral, his breath washes over you. You just did not want to watch his favorite movie again. For the 10th time.

"Don't speak. You have to be punished."

Oh no. For this? It's not fair.

He sits down and taps his legs and you know what it means. Protest would make it worse. You lay down over his lap, hiding your face in your arms.

"I hate when you disagree with me," he sighs and gropes at your ass. He tugs your– his– shirt up and then your panties down to your knees. "I hate it so much, heh. Just be on my side, damn."

A hard spank jolts your body and you yelp.

"Shut up!" Tomura barks. "Be so quiet."

You nod, biting your lip so hard it hurts.

"Look, you can do what I say after all," he coos. "How easy it suddenly is. Arch your back more."

You do.

"Why… look… it's not that hard at all." He spanks you again. You are sure he doesn't realize how much it hurts. Another slap and another. He doesn't even soothe the sensation with his palm.

You whimper pathetically when you feel him take momentum but then pause, cruelly making you wait. The slap is the hardest yet and you cry out, sobbing into the mattress.

"Did I allow you to make sounds?" Tomura's voice is so empty and detached. "And squirm like that?"

You shake your head and heave, looking at him through your tears. The next spank makes your body go limp. The pain is flaming home, but he finally rubs over your bruised ass – only to spank two more times as hard as he possibly could.

And he knows. Because he doesn't even scold you for crying out and winding on his lap, he just holds you down and shushes you softly.

"Will you disagree with me again?" He asks, leaning over and kissing your salty cheek. You look at him. "Go on… you can speak."

"Never… never, Tomura. I'll always agree with you," you gasp and whine. "Always, please."

He smiles, so innocently and happy. He soothes the flaming skin. "Good girl," he kisses you softly. "It's gonna be easy mode from now on, babes."

He tugs your panties back up and makes sure they snap over your tender skin. You hiss in pain and look at him, then crawl on top of him, hugging him tightly.

"M'sorry," you whisper. "So sorry."

He tenderly strokes through your hair. "Don't worry. I love you… I'll forgive you. Are we watching my movie now?"

"Yes."

virgins can have kinks too!

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

“Whatcha starin’ at, boss?”

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

“Did you know Himiko had a girlfriend?”

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

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

“Kid, that’s not her girlfriend.”

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

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

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

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

“It’s funny?”

“I’ll set you up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Except, that disgust never comes.

Alternatively, you nod, “Sounds fun!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uhh…”

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

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

“You’re forward…”

You shrug, “I know what I want.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh-huh,” again dumb.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘Cuz you’d know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

👁👁

Indulge me for a moment

I know some people don’t like it when you try to psychoanalyse fictional characters, but it’s fun so here we are. There’s one particular category of behaviour that I would like to discuss in regards to Shigaraki Tomura.

This is gonna be a long one. Sorry XP

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