Chapter 02.
“So.” Bakugo sighed, meeting your eyes.
“So.” You echoed, averting your gaze.
“You two both need outfits for the gala.” Tommie said pointedly. “Wren and I-” ‘Bakugo’s PR manager’ you recalled, she was there when you had grabbed the man and almost began fist fighting with him in his office, “Have decided that you should both be wearing matching outfits.”
The mere thought of wearing anything matching with the likes of Bakugo has you wanting to claw your own arms off. Clearly Bakugo is more composed than you since he just inhales sharply and rubs his forehead with his hand.
“Right… so… where are we getting these outfits done up exactly?” Bakugo sighed, looking at Tommie who waved his hand absentmindedly at the pro’s face.
“Oh y'know… Mitsuki… Bakugo…”
“Are you FUCKING-”
Bakugo ran a hand across his face and he groaned. He tossed his phone across his bed, watching it hit against his bedside lamp and stop moving on his bedside table. Kirishima’s text glared at him from behind his eyelids.
‘Your crush on them.’
He was being ridiculous. That’s right. All of the bright red hair dye has seeped into his skull and started fucking around with his brain cells. He didn’t have a crush on anyone, he didn’t fucking have time for that shit anyways.
In his very humble and not at all biased opinion, love was:
A waste of time.
Overrated.
Not in Bakugo's best interests.
Not in Bakugo’s plan to become the number one hero.
Too much effort.
Too much work to maintain.
Could potentially cause emotional turmoil.
Usually have unrealistic expectations.
So why did the idea of being in love with you have such an affect on him? It didn’t make any sense. He was probably just hungry or tired or- y'know what it didn’t matter much anyways. He had shit to do, stuff to get done. Shit on his plate he needed to deal with.
Bakugo sat up from his seat on the bed, fist bunching up the sheets around him. He looked longingly at the suit being hung up in his closet.
This is going to be one long fucking month.
-> Masterlist
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happy birthday
mutuals send me a 💌 and ill tell u something i love about you
shigaraki x afab!reader
tags: grinding, fingering, virginity loss (tomura's), more experienced reader, praise kink if you squint
warnings: this is a smut fic. | 18+ | MDNI / Ageless blogs DNI
wc: 2.2k
a/n: this is a character study wrapped in a smutty bow. Pre-MVA characterization. this is also my second time writing smut, pls go easy on me
happy birthday tomura baby <3
Tomura had been branded as a freak the instant he killed his entire family at only five-years old. It was a mark that stood stark against the surface of his pale skin, its burn traveling through every layer of skin and flesh, down to the bone. Even as a mere child, he was always treated like some sort of monster. The kind of guy you'd see coming and cross to the other side of the street. Someone you'd worry about following you home. A degenerate. A creep. A villain.
With All For One's guidance, he had learned to embrace these views of himself at a very young age. No one would ever help him, no hero or bystander. He was a villain, after all. And if he couldn't be anything but a disgusting villain, he might as well be the most disgusting villain in Japan.
His views changed when you stumbled into his life. At first, he didn't know how to react to you. To your kindness. You would tease him, call him cute. You were somehow capable of drawing out a softness in him—the part of him that wanted to pet every dog he saw out on a walk. The part of him that wanted to hold your hand. Parts of him he thought died with his family.
Growing up, Tomura was obsessed villains. The kind that killed and destroyed. This obsession was found in all forms of media; comic books, television shows, and as he soon found, porn.
The villain stereotyping for porn was…interesting. Brutal and careless, the kind of person who took, not gave. A selfish lover, if one could even use that word. Reality didn't always equal fiction. And Tomura was a real villain, forged in iron and blood, not an over exaggerated caricature of evil. He hated how soft he felt when he was with you. How softly he wanted to fuck you.
It wasn't supposed to be this way. He was a villain, someone who wanted utter destruction, not for selfish reasons, but for the betterment of society, for fucks sake. Villains were harsh. Cruel. Possessing a ruthlessness and violence that was incongruent with affection or tenderness. All media, all stereotyping, should have made him merciless. His pornographic counterpart would have you folded over, cruelly pounding away at your cunt in a mating press, uncaring and unconcerned about the possible effects of decay from where his hands pressed below your knees.
It wasn't just that he was scared of hurting you, it was that a fear that he'd become the thing everyone expected him to be—cruel, uncaring, selfish—and those traits would come out when he was with you. With the ones he loved. Your love for Tomura came easy. Getting him to love himself came harder.
It started slow on your insistence of his comfort—long make out sessions in abandoned buildings that left both your lips red and swollen and his cock straining beneath his boxers, a wet spot on the front as evidence of his arousal. He always felt guilty after; dark finger-shaped bruises from where he gripped your ass and thighs tightly, desperate to feel your skin even through his artists gloves. Slowly though, he began to realize that you didn't exactly mind, often guiding his hands exactly where you wanted them, admiring the marks he made in the mirror.
It was during one of these sessions where things got a bit heavier than normal. You were sat, straddled over his lap, his hands kneading your ass under the hem of your shorts, when you suddenly and involuntarily jerked, grinding into his dick, hard beneath his black pants. From the way you shuddered and moaned into his mouth, the friction must have gone directly to your clit.
"God—sorry," you gasped.
Sliding his hands up to your hips, Tomura guided you over his cock, rocking his hips into yours.
"Don't be," He panted into your mouth.
Your pussy was so warm through the fabric of his pants as you began to grind your clit over his length, hard against his thigh. You looked so beautiful like this—moans escaping your lips as your face contorted in pleasure. You looked like you wanted him to fuck you.
Suddenly he was twitching in his pants, hot, wet cum soaking the fabric of his jeans, a choked whimper escaping his mouth.
He couldn't hear anything over the sound of yours and his breathing, coming out in short, quick breaths, his heartbeat in his ears.
Tightening his grip on your waist, he looked up at you. You had a satisfied, almost smug looking smile on your face. Leaning in to kiss him again, you murmured against his lips. "Whatever you want to do, I trust you." Suddenly he wasn't what people thought of him. He was a villain, yes, but he was capable of things no stereotyped reflection of himself would be able to do. He could fuck you hard if he wanted. But softly? He was allowed to do that as well, and it didn't make him any less of a villain.
Placing his hand on your lower back, he turned and sat up, flipping you onto your back on the couch. "Can I finger you?"
Your pupils dilated, large and dark with want. "Please." He wished he wasn't wearing his stupid gloves, that way he could decay your shorts and underwear off for quicker access. He wished he could control his quirk better. He wished a lot of things. He let you unbutton them, helping you tug them down and off the rest of the way.
"Someone's impatient," you laughed, breathy, as you spread your legs, bent at the knee.
He felt his face flush even further, if that was possible. "Shut up."
Slowly, he slid his ring finger over your folds, relinquishing in the way you shuddered from the touch, not from fear of him, but out of anticipation. Desire. A craving only he could satisfy. He licked his dry, cracking lips, smiling as he slowly slid his ring finger in all the way, coating it in a wetness that clung to his skin. He didn't know it'd be so.. soft. Warm.
His middle finger, clad in the fabric of his glove, went in next. You opened so easily, evidence of your arousal. Arousal for him. He felt his dick twitch in his pants. Curling his fingers up, he felt a small sense of pride course through him at the way you gasped. He pistoned his fingers in and out, focused on on your sweet spot, a wet, squelching noise filling his ears, combined with your soft moans and keens. Just for him. Because of him.
He grinned as your whines increased in pitch and frequency, your hands coming up to pull him down into a kiss as you tightened around his fingers as you came.
He made sure to get condoms on the next supply run.
It was a miracle you both were able to find a mattress that wasn't piss or blood-soaked, covered in questionable stains, or torn in the middle. The two of you managed to sequester some time alone, adding onto the list of current miracles leading to this moment.
Shaking, Tomura's hands wrapped around the condom, the lubrication from it wetting and sticking to his palm and fingers as he unrolled it over his length. A million thoughts raced through his head. What if his dick was too small? What if you thought it was ugly? Could a dick be ugly?
You were patiently watching him from on the bed, legs bent to the side. From the way your eyes widened when he stripped off his t-shirt and kicked his pants and boxers aside, he supposed he could toss the "small" and "ugly" insecurity in the trash. There was an obvious air of lust and affection in your gaze as your eyes traversed the planes of his body. He bristled, feeling undeserving of your gaze.
"Do you have to watch me so intently?"
You laughed at how his embarrassment only reddened him further. "I can look away if you want," the smile on your lips turned playful, mirth glinting in your eye. His brow furrowed as he was certain whatever words came next were meant to embarrass him further.
"But you have a pretty dick, so I'll keep watching if you don't mind."
"Shut up," he groaned despite his own smile as he lightly pushed you to lie back on the bed, your laughter singing in his ears before silenced by his lips on yours. His cock, hot and heavy, tapped against the plane of your stomach as he crawled over you, caging your body in with his.
He felt a smug sense of satisfaction as he pinched your nipple with one hand, making you gasp into his mouth. "You're the pretty one."
Separating for air, he sat up, leaning back on his calves. Your cunt was covered in a sheer layer of your arousal, pretty and flushed. Sliding his fingers in just like before, he scissored them against your soaked walls, stretching you out in preparation. Once sufficiently stretched, he lined the head of his cock up to your entrance. Slowly, he thrust in with a low groan, eyes rolling back. You were somehow warmer, tighter around his length than his fingers. You gasped, fisting the blanket underneath you as he pushed in, inch by inch, until he bottomed out.
He looked down at where the two of you connected, blue tufts of hair trailing down to the shaft of his cock, swallowed by your tight hole.
"It's, uh-," Tomura panted, face strained from behind the light blue strands of hair that curtained off the planes of his cheeks, "-a lot tighter than expected."
He looked ethereal like this, a flushed, peachy hue painting his skin down to his bare chest. "Yeah," you sighed, pushing his hair behind his ears. "Take your time. I need a second, too."
Your thumb traced over the planes of his face, over the rough texture of the scar on his lip. His hips jerked as he kissed your thumb, leaning down to kiss your lips, gloved hands creating waves over the blankets like sand dunes in a desert.
For a moment he lingered, lost in the saccharine taste of your tongue and the syrupy wetness between your legs as your walls pulsed and clenched around his dick, the vibrations of your moans making his lips tingle. All the porn in the world wouldn’t have prepared him for how tender and warm this felt, the soft expanse of your thighs grounding him and keeping him close.
Slowly he began to move his hips, relishing in the way your sex gripped his cock, the friction of your pussy against every vein and nerve slowing and streamlining his thoughts to follow one command: faster.
His hips sped up, chasing the friction his nerves so desired. He became enraptured by your face- every twitch between your brows, every noise or whimper you made, the way your face contorted when he hit just the right spot. He felt high off it, the expanse of your pleasure evident from every ridge and valley of your face, contorted and shifting with every moan. Chasing the high, he shifted the angle of his hips, your moans increasing in pitch as one hand grasped at the base of his neck, gently tugging at the hairs at his nape, the other rubbing circles into your clit.
"Please—you're so good, you feel so good—" you gasped, voice coming out choked around every thrust. His brain lagged from the praise, a brief stutter in his hips as his thoughts clipped through his head.
"Can you get on top."
"Yeah," you laughed, breathy with amusement at his reaction. Flipping over, you sunk down on his length, somehow deeper than he was before, with a low groan. "Oh fuck." Slowly you began to move your hips, grinding your swollen, puffy clit over the whispy hairs leading down to his shaft, an arousal and slickness that mixed between the two of you leaking down onto his skin. He wished he could feel it on his cock, how sticky and wet you were as you surrounded him. He bet it felt perfect.
His hands grasped around your hips as you rode him, face flushed and sweaty, chest and beading with droplets of sweat. From this angle, his dick was hitting the perfect spot, making you see stars. A tightness in your belly grew as you increased your pace, riding him with a fervor as you approached your orgasm. You stilled as your pussy fluttered around him, tightening as you unraveled. He was close before, but as you tightened, the dam broke. With a final thrust, he spilled hot bursts of cum into the condom, his grip tight around your soft hips.
You slumped against him, bare tits pressed into his chest, forehead nestled into the crook of his neck. A wave of calm serenity washed over him as he pressed a kiss into your hairline, lightly muscled arms wrapping snug around your back.
You sighed, content, mumbling into his neck.
"I love you."
He felt his dick twitch from where it still lay inside you. "We're doing that again later."
.ᐟfucked up
.ᐟcw: screaming, angry rin, regret
"𝑆ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑚𝑒 𝐼'𝑚 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑎𝑓𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑑 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑛𝑜𝑤" - 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑑 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑘𝑜𝑛 𝑟𝑒𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑎𝑑𝑟𝑖𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑒 𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑘𝑒𝑟
⸝⸝♡⸝⸝♡
Your boyfriend came back home, pissed.
He lost a match. You knew he wanted to be alone, but you just wanted to check up on him. You quietly made your way downstairs to the living area.
You peaked inside to see rin sitting on the couch, arms around a pillow while he watched his game over and over again.
“Hi.. baby, i know you probably want to be left alone but i’m worried. You haven’t ate anything all day..” you said softly, standing beside him.
He looked up at you, jaw ticking, before he looked back at the screen.
“Not hungry” he said, hoping you’d leave.
“I know, but I cooked your favorite food to cheer you up,” you said softly, looking at the ground.
“Yn. i’m not hungry.” More bite was behind his words this time.
“But rin-”
“I SAID I’M NOT FUCKING HUNGRY, JUST STOP!” he yelled, throwing the pillow and standing up. Towering over you. His fists clenched.
You stepped back, eyes wide as you stared at him in shock? Fear? It took him a second to realize what he just did.
Your lips trembled, staring at the man you thought you knew. Your eyes burned as tears brimmed your waterline.
“Fuck. baby, i didn’t-”
“It’s fine.” you said quietly, your voice breaking as you walked away from him. It felt like someone was squeezing the life out of your heart; your chest tightened as you ran upstairs, running to the bathroom. You hear footsteps behind you, Rin quickly follows after, knocking on the bathroom.
“y/n, listen to me. I’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to yell at you. I swear” he said, his voice coming out soft like he didn’t want to scare you.
“Can you just come out, can we talk, please?” You wanted to speak, but no words came out. You covered your mouth with your hand, warm tears dripping down your face, as you silenced your cries. He internally beat himself up. what was he thinking, taking his anger out on you when you did nothing but want to make him feel better?
“Go away..” it was nothing more than a whisper but rin knew he fucked up.
Taglist: @chaoslibra @samm1e13 @syleepy @samthesimp1 @werfiedeii @sapphireluv @s4turnx1 @nevvynev @cookiesandcreammy @mikemsmm
A/n: no one better say the reader was being dramatic (i cry whenever someone raises their voice at me) I'm still learning how to write angst
ꨄ︎Anglbunny | Do not copy, steal or translate my work and pngs. you'll be blocked.
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Needy on main. Absolutely pathetic on main. Disgustingly emotionally compromised on main.
some drawings i made for tomuras birthday ☺️☺️ happy birthday princess ❤️🩹