Tomura Shiragaki - Blog Posts

𝐎𝐧 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞, 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬. 𝐏𝐭.𝟏

𝚂𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚔𝚒 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝟼” 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚙𝚊𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚐𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚃𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚞𝚜, 𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚂𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚐𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚏𝚏 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚂𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚞𝚛𝚊, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙳𝚎𝚔𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚊 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚌𝚛𝚞𝚎𝚕 𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚝. 𝚃𝚘𝚖𝚞𝚛𝚊’𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚑𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚋𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚜, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚎’𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚗.

𝙼𝚒𝚍𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚢𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚢 𝚊𝚜 𝚘𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚂𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚔𝚒 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢. 𝙷𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚟𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚞𝚗𝚏𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚊 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚕𝚢 𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚐𝚞𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜. 𝙸𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚘 𝚐𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜, 𝚘𝚋𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚕𝚢. 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚝𝚑-𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚙𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚜 𝙴𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚘𝚕. 𝙻𝚒𝚔𝚎, *𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢* 𝚌𝚘𝚘𝚕. 𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝙰𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝙾𝚗𝚎, 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚋𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚘, 𝚒𝚝 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝.

𝙰𝚔𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎…

𝚀𝚞𝚎𝚞𝚎 𝙼𝚒𝚍𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚢𝚊 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝙴𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙱𝚁𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃𝙴𝚂𝚃 𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚎.

𝙻𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗, 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚙𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝙰𝚒𝚣𝚊𝚠𝚊 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚏𝚊𝚗. “𝙾𝚑, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚎𝚕𝚋𝚘𝚠?”

𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢, 𝙰𝚒𝚣𝚊𝚠𝚊 𝚌𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚗 𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚡-𝚟𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗. 𝙷𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚞𝚙 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚔𝚒𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚐, 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚘.

𝙳𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚗? 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚢 𝚗𝚘𝚝, 𝚞𝚗𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚟𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚋 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢 (𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚘 @ozoiudraws, 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚋 𝙰𝚄 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎. 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚞 𝚜𝚖 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 🖤).

𝙸𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊 𝚛𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚋 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢, 𝙸 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚑𝚎’𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜.

𝚂𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢, 𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚎 𝟷𝟶-𝟷𝟻 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚑𝚎’𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚓𝚘𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚎𝚏𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚊 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚝𝚢. 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚍𝚘𝚐, 𝚝𝚘𝚘. 𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚊 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚢 𝚙𝚞𝚛𝚎-𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚙𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚢, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚢 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚏 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚖𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚊 𝚍𝚘𝚐 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚑𝚢 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚛𝚒𝚋𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚗.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

@REILEFTTHECHAT — DO NOT STEAL, COPY, OR USE MY WORK FOR AI PROMPTS.

First time meeting the League like—

*Shigaraki, scratching*

Dabi: Out of the pure kindness of my heart, I won’t hesitate to drown you in bleach if you have fleas.

*stops scratching*

*starts scratching again*

Tenko in another universe:

AFO: No one came to save you… that must’ve hurt, right Tenko Shimura? How scared you must’ve bee-

Tenko: I’m not scared. My sister told me never to talk to bald men. When your own hairline is running from you, I should too.

AFO: …

Late asf belated bday to my favorite deadly mophead <3

Happy birthday Tomura!!! In my mind you’re still alive and kicking 🤧

I NEED THIS LOSER BADLY. I’ll write stuff abt him…soon kinktober is alr tearing me to shreds.

HAHAHA he’s even got a weird stance. Bros about to assume knocked Disney knees position.

Do y’all ever just beatbox on a nomu? Yeah me too.

On this note, Shigaraki wouldn’t even wear socks or boxers. He prob sees them as optional so he doesn’t wear them

Aizawa would def just let his socks roll off his feet into the tow of his boots. But he wouldn’t bother to fix the socks cuz he’s too lazy.

As a kid tomura def ate too much at a time and choked. Then got mad at AFO when he made him spit it out cuz bro was about to die.

He still stuffs his face but learned if he opens his mouth when he chews the excess will just fall out.

Posting this here too cuz abs

My thoughts about Shigaraki’s sexuality

[+..••] He’s demisexual or on the gray-sexual scale. He isn’t hyper sexual, and would rather spend time with someone simply sitting in the same room as them. It’s unlikely he would initiate sexual contact unless it’s later in the relationship or he’s really aroused.

[+..••] He has to feel emotionally bonded and connected with the person to feel sexual feelings.

[+..••] He would rather touch you than have you touch him. It’s easier as he doesn’t feel much of the need to use his body. He more so wants to see his partner being pleasured. Though he doesn’t have much against showing his body and using it, he prefers to use his partners body.

[+..••] He has a hard time understanding why someone would want to be sexual with him if he hasn’t known them for long or have any romantic feelings with them.

contains: swearing, alcohol use word count: 3.3k

"get up."

touya groaned. it took him a couple of seconds, but when he finally came to he was instantly hit with a splitting headache. touya moved to bring a cooling hand to his forehead only to find that he could only feel a heavy tingling sensation in his arms— and in his hands and in his legs. all the telltale signs of a hangover— at least his typical (extreme) version of one. he even had tomura on his ass, all the boxes on the ‘i got totally wasted last night’ checklist were ticked off.  

“wake up.” 

touya heard a small thunk from somewhere nearby— probably tomura kicking something —and finally decided that it was time to blink his eyes open. 

immediately, he knew exactly where he was. touya could distinguish the coarse texture from the beat-up seven-year-old couch lying in the LOV staff room any day. the mixed smell of a dewy morning breeze and the lingering scent of touya's signature cigarette brand sent a pumping to his blood that couldn’t be ignored.  he grinned and lifted himself so he was resting back on his elbows, head tilted up in tomura's direction. “hey birdie.” 

tomura sucked in a breath through his teeth and spun around, going right back to sit at his desk. touya watched his blue-haired roommate, observing the way tomura put his glasses on before inevitably gluing his eyes onto his computer screen. tomura looked tired to say the least; his clothes were disheveled and his hair was a mess— as if he had been up all night.  “you went looking for me?” touya's tone was cocky. he reached for the water bottle beside him, the water bottle that somehow always ended up by his side after a long night. he never asked about it— the fear of a petty tomura deciding to take away his one princess privilege steering his decision.

but when tomura scoffed out a small, “no,” touya's grin faltered. “you were outside.”

touya took a sip of the room-temperature water, curious eyes on tomura. “outside?” 

“yeah.” tomura replied as he opened a drawer from his desk and skimmed through some documents. “wasted to shit asleep on the bench.” touya brows furrowed momentarily, attempting to skim through his drunken memories of last night. before touya could properly reconnect them, tomura spoke again. “you didn’t walk here?” tomura's red eyes met touya's blue ones, an intrigued expression shining through the lenses of his glasses. 

“shit, i don’t remember.” touya gained the courage to push past the tingling and move, swinging his legs off the couch. his boots hit the wooden floor beneath him as he gave a half-shrug. 

“you don’t remember?” tomura repeated, sounding annoyed. “where’d you even go?”

touya leaned back into the mustard-stained couch, hands pressing against its backboard. “that new bar.” his head fell back, smile pointed up to the room's ceiling. “moonlight.” the words fluttered off his tongue, the legacy of moonlight clear in his mind. 

“what the fuck!?” tomura’s chair let out a squeaky whine at its sudden movement. he had stopped typing his laptop, attention fully on touya.  "really?!"

“yep.” touya expressed with a pop of his mouth. “and i know their secret.” he said, sounding most obviously pleased with himself. it was the one thing touya had managed to remember from last night— he recalled repeating it out loud to himself for that exact reason. “young hires.”

[ ELEVEN HOURS EARLIER ]

keigo left three hours ago and you were still trying to convince yourself that you could last the final two hours of your shift on your own. 

the sky had grown dark, a lapis blue painting a beautiful backdrop for the lamp-lit city. the cool contrast created an orange-tinted scene inside of midnight. the constant clinking of beer glasses and clicking of heels against the bar floor had left a distant ringing in your ear— along with keigo's words about the nearby job opportunity. the rag in your hand scrubbed up against the surface of the wooden counter as you cleaned up a spill in thought. you were so deep in it that you almost didn’t hear a voice of question coming from beside you.

“excuse me. you— yeah you!” the voice gradually grew within range. you blinked out of your daze and turned your head in the customer's direction. the voice had come from a man who looked to be in his mid-30s and held a strong glare. 

“sorry, sir,” you muttered, tucking the rag under the counter and placing both your hands on the table, steady and attentive . “what would you like to drink tonight?”

“whiskey. neat.” he gruffed, resting his arm up against the bar's pillar.

you stopped a displeased expression from planting onto your face and forced a tight smile. “right up.” you reached for a glass on the shelf— along with the man's desired drink of choice —and began to pour. as you did, you were able to examine the customer. 

he was leaned right up against the counter, flannel jacket resting on the hardwood counter. he was a big guy with a big hat— the type of hat that reminded you of old western films. his bread wasn’t too long or bushy— it was just enough to frame his face in the right places, making him appear well-aged and rugged. using these observations, you put together that this man was from the countryside— and that’s before you accounted for his dirty hands, his worn jeans, and his manners. 

you placed the drink in front of the man and gave him a polite nod, hoping that would be enough to get him to go and bother someone else. but of course, it wasn’t. 

“hey.” he tipped his head a bit closer in your direction, fingers tapping along the rim of his freshly poured glass of whiskey. you gritted your teeth, mostly to mentally prepare yourself— another asshole encounter at work was the last thing you needed right now. the man then grinned, a large yet playful one. “this is a pretty nice city dontcha think?”

your eyes narrowed in suspicion. this could’ve been worse, way worse. 

“yeah, it is,” you replied matter-of-factly. you’ve been living in orion for just over three years now. and though you didn’t necessarily move here for the sights, you couldn’t deny that the town was beautiful.

what you liked about orion was it has a sense of community— and security. you’ve gotten used to the sound of kids calling to their friends in the streets while parents frantically chase them down. the song that slipped between your neighbors' windchimes remain a familiar melody in your mind. there was always some type of event, or function, or party. you liked it. it kept you, and everyone else, busy. distracted. 

the bearded man chuckled. he took a sip of the drink— face showing no reaction to the alcohol—before saying, “i’m actually new around these parts.” you knew he was lying. you’ve caught sight of him throwing up behind the bar twice within the three weeks. he had a reputation for those types of things.

what you hadn’t expected was for him to come to you tonight. he maintained a mindful eye on you, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “think i need someone to show me around the place— someone pretty like you.” he voiced. his lips curled up into a smile; one that showed he was confident that he’d win a date with you.  

you thought carefully, picking a response that would be respectful for an employee to use. “sorry, i really can’t. work has me really busy right now.” your voice tipped higher out of habit. you hoped your tone was clear enough. 

your hopes were quick to be crushed. 

the man winked and went on to declare, “you wouldn’t have to work with a guy like me around.” he flipped the bottom of his patterned sleeve up, leaving the material bunched up his biceps as he shamelessly flexed his muscles to you. it was clear to you now how drunk the man was. you could see it in the way his smile hung bright and his eyes sparkled like the wish from a million suns. 

you didn’t even have time to react before a separate voice got added to the equation. another man, a younger one who seemed to be in his mid-20s, walked up to your section of the bar. 

“can you fight with those things?” the demeanor of the dark-haired man was intimidating alone, in addition to his alternate style of clothing and his sharp facial expression, he came off as different. the lanky man hovered over the wannabe cowboy, shadowing him. “because these look pretty—“ the younger man’s hand slipped out from his leather jacket and cupped over the older man’s flexing muscle. “fake.” 

“hey— hey don’t touch me you goth— emo freak!” the countryman jolted out from under the latter's touch before he could make any lasting contact. “what the fuck is wrong with you!” he shot his arms up in complaint. "werido." he waved his middle finger to the man as he continued to back onto the crowded dance floor. 

the second man remained stoic as he watched the first walk away. “fucking idoit. i’m not even close to being gothic.” he scoffed as his arms crossed over his chest. the sway in his movement told you that this customer wasn't necessarily sober either.

“another jerk.” you muttered, the words slipping out of your mouth before you could stop them. you didn’t want to complain, considering that this guy just helped get that creep away from you, but this was turning into a stereotypical ‘the good guy is actually a bad guy’ plot twist, and you weren’t in the mood to get kidnapped tonight. 

a hard exhale fell from the younger man’s mouth, “what was that?” he sounded amused like he wasn’t offended that you just insulted him, but he sounded intrigued.

you felt a wave of hot shutter through your body, cheeks flaring up specifically. your face scrunched up, shoulders raising and eyes widening as you silently cursed the way your body reacted to embarrassment. then again, some things never change. “nothing.” you said, just as quietly as you said your last sentence. your hand urgently tapped for the forgotten rag under the counter to no avail. 

you held eye contact with the man until his crystal-lit orbs suddenly flagged down. his forehead fell to his forearm, which rested on the bar's marble counter, and his shoulders began to shake as he hickered out a string of loud laughs. 

you were baffled. 

“they really hired a kid to work here?” the man giggled.

“actually, i’m—“ 

“so, this is what midnight's been doing.” his eyes were back up on you now, gaze observing as his hair folded out of its side part and in front of his face. he was quick to swipe his hair back up with his galaxy-toned hand. 

“sorry?” 

the man just barely stumbled back, gripping the back of the bar chair before he could be considered a threat. he settled himself down on the chair. his body leaning against the bar's wooden structure, the same way the cowboy had done a moment ago. but this time it felt separate— for so many reasons you couldn’t narrow it down to just one. 

he looked at you when he answered, pupils dilated. “hiring college kids.” his eyes flickered close for a moment like he was making a mental note to remember his observation. 

you bit your bottom lip. you can’t deny it because it’s true, you are a college student. but the way he said it made it seemproblematic. before you could tap into that, you felt that something was off— you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching you.

you stole a glance and to your concern, a pair of eyes were focused on you from the threshold of the staff room. instinctively, your body straightened up. your focus decreased on entertaining the customer and increased on actually doing your job. 

unsure if you were in earshot, you spoke again, calculated. “midnight is a good place.” you said. your fingers finally found the rag under the counter and your hands got back into the routine of wiping the counter, really trying to sell the ‘i’m too busy working to talk’ act… again. 

“yeah?” the man dabbled, like he was quickly losing interest in the conversation. but he went on, “what makes it so special then?”

it was such a strange question, but you’ve heard stranger before. “they have a cool looking website…?” 

it was the first thing that came to mind. 

the man laughed, but it wasn’t as loud and amused as before, just convinced. he slapped a hand on the table, using it as his pillar of support as he staggered back up into a standing position. you could hear him whispering something about “technology” and “young hires” as he stumbled off. 

just one strange interaction after another. 

ninety laboring minutes later you’re finally on your way home. on a breezy, autumn day like this one you found yourself extra appreciative of the close distance of your apartment. you knew that your roommate, rumi, was probably awake. not because she was waiting for you, but because she’s a biology major and you’ve come to learn they never sleep. 

still, on nights when you were the only one closing or had to run a quick errand before going home, rumi would call you to ensure your safety— and threaten to call the police to escort you if you didn’t get home soon. 

tonight ended up being was one of those nights. 

you had just turned the corner right around midnight’s back alley when you heard a sound. what started as a small cough quickly turned into hacking coughs and eventually the sound of splatters of vomit hitting the ground. you, silently, peaked around the corner of the alley. 

hunched over in the l-shaped corner behind the dumpster was your “hero” from earlier. 

he looked more battered down now, knees quivering underneath his weight as he pressed his head up against the rugged brick wall. your feet lead you closer. as you appporached, you could see how his dark hair adhered damply around the nape of his neck and how desperately his hands clung onto the wall. 

“oh my god, you’re the guy from earlier.” you blurted out loud, mostly to verbally confirm it to yourself. the guy's head just lolled against the brick wall, tipping down as he threw up another liter of liquor onto the pavement. your face grimaced as you glanced away. “you’re really drunk.” you commented, fingers anxiously fiddling at your sides. 

“no fucking duh.” the man spat. he wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his leather jacket and then waved a flappy hand in your direction. “beat it.” he deadpanned, scratchy voice sending a chill up your spine. 

your mind now rushed with questions on whether you should leave him or not. you considered the factors. pro: he did save you from a potential creep. con: his attitude is intangibly rotten.

but there must be a reason behind it, right? like maybe he had a bad day— a lot of bar attendees do. the point was, even though you didn't know him, he did seem to have good intentions. 

you took a step toward him, “i’m gonna—“

“don’t.” his voice snapped into a growl, low and brisk, though you remained calm. you could see him peeking at you from under his arm, checking to see if you had left or not. searching like he had already anticipated you to be long gone.

when his gaze met yours— seeing you still in your work clothes, clearly very exhausted from your long trip, and still willing to help him —he couldn’t do anything else but glance away. 

slowly, you put a hand out. you could hear murmurs of keigo's voice in your head saying that you were “being too nice.” you shook his words off of your mind and pushed forward. “i’ll just walk you down the block.” you stepped under his propped up arm, swiftly redirecting his weight so he was leaned up against your left shoulder and had his arm wrapped around your right shoulder. you heard his breath hitch as you altered his position. he didn’t protest, but rather flowed with your direction.

you took a deep breath, stabilizing yourself. “nightlife is.. brighter down there. so you can find your way home by yourself.” you took a step forward, delicately nudging his side. he took the physical indication and moved forward, taking a slow, but sure step. you let out another slow breath; most times your last-minute plans didn’t work well so you you were satisfied.

a couple dozen steps later the young man spoke— well slurred —“thought all your bougie alcohol was fake.” he tone wasn’t confident like the words he had said weren’t originally his. he swayed a bit, the scent of an indistinguishable amount of various alcohols spiking through your nose. “stupid trust fund kid company.” he grumbled.

you didn’t blame him for the way he thought. midnight's popularity had shot up out of nowhere just a couple of weeks ago. you heard that they were doing so well in the market that other smaller businesses were shutting down because of it down. at the time you didn’t think much of it. you didn’t know that people were genuinely upset about it. 

after a long hushed walk in the eerie wind, you stepped upon the brightly lit street of the plaza. thought most the shops on this side of town consisted of sketchy dispensaries and personal businesses, it was still safer than leaving him behind the alley of a well-known bar with a high-kept reputation. 

you led him to one of the benches facing the oversight of city buildings. the sky twinkled in each of the visible window's reflection, sparkles jumping and dancing across city rooftops. when you let go of the man's weight, he immediately melted into the bench below him. you huffed out a strangled breath, swinging back on to dust your hands off. you could hear club music threatening to spill out of a building across the street from where you stood. you placed your hands on your hips and countered your breathing, slowing it down as a smile crept onto your face. 

the man sighed from his spot on the bench, catching your attention. “ya' ever looked at the sky?” the question was half asked, like it wasn’t even meant to be answered by you. you turned to him and sure enough, he was staring at the night sky, eyes hazy enough to certify him as dreaming. 

out of curiosity, you turn to the sky. orion had the type of beauty that you couldn’t describe. it was the type of city you’d see pictures of on the front of postcards, painted and perfect— perfectly feel good. 

you do look at the sky when you have time, which isn’t often. it’s nice to wish on the stars and share sprinkled false hope with other people across the world. you always wished for one day to feel exciting the way you were promised every day should feel. 

another comment cut you out of your tangled mind. “next meteor shower is march thirteenth.” the man whispered into the wind. you could see it in his eyes that his message wasn’t necessarily said to inform you but because he needed to say it—  he needed to tell someone. 

a vibrating sound coming from your pocket stopped you from being able to reply to the man's drunken speech. you pulled your phone out and read the contact name, rumi.

for her to be calling it must be super late. you stuffed your phone back into your pocket, “i’m sorry but i have to go!” you told the man frantically. his head just tilted more towards the sky, fully consumed in its beauty, already acting like you were gone. “well, get home safe!” you gave an awkward wave to him— well his back —as you skipped into a jog, running back home.

to your luck, the days only got more interesting.

previous masterlist next

“it’s good in the dark, good in the dark” | LCD soundsystem

comment to be added to current taglist: @peachesvault @tlissablr @evilari111

contains: swearing word count: 1.2k

“miller's on your ass today.” 

you sighed, your gaze flickering from the beautiful, authentic sun setting over the city’s buildings to the blazing, sun-colored dork next to you.  

“i mean really—“ he pulled out a gummy bear— from what seemed to be his never-ending side pocket stash —and stuffed it into his mouth. “you’d think the divorce would give the old bastard a revelation or something. but noooo, he’s still a bitch.” his confident gossip bubbled down into a dramatic murmur as he eventually shrugged his shoulders. 

you sighed again, head dropping into your hands as it throbbed, too sc

rambled to focus on keigo's deep interest in your manager's love life. “i need a job.”

“you have two.” keigo retorted as he moved to cross his arms. 

“i need another one.” you massage your temples before letting your hands fall to your sides. 

keigo scoffed. “you’re really not making enough?” 

“not if i don't want to be drowning in student debt for the rest of my life.” you complained. 

keigo pressed his lips together and scrunched his nose. it was the face he made when he wanted to argue on but knew better than to. the back of his head hit the brick wall behind you two as he too, stopped to a sigh. “well, i hear there’s a new club down the block. LOVE, or something?”

“love? like the word?” your voice peaked as you looked at him. 

keigo's fingers twirled around the string from his waist apron. “something like that.” the blonde's eyes fell to the sunset. yours followed them. “a couple of guys in my historical art class were talking about going.”

“the hippie—?” 

keigo cut you off before you could finish your comment  “my point is,” he leaned closer— most likely for dramatic effect, “they’re probably hiring.”

it was your turn to press your lips together now. 

“bartending isn’t that bad.” keigo coaxed. you almost laughed at how fast he was able to switch his opinion on this idea. but keigo kept his eyes on the sun, like he was thinking about his plans for the future too. a better future. “plus the tips make it so worth it.” he titled his head toward you, shooting you a sly grin. he nodded his head, ‘yeah?’, as he nudged your shoulder. 

your cold façade cracked into a warm smile. keigo always found a way to cheer you up. it was stupidly ironic. “i’ll apply when i get home.” 

“and you swear we aren’t friends.” keigo scoffed and you showed no mercy when shoving his shoulder. he just laughed loudly. “midnight is doing pretty nice though. the regulars are cute and who knows, maybe miller will consider giving us raises.”

a chortle escaped your throat. “yeah. like shit.” your lips didn’t remain curled up for long. your eyes faltered to a determined degree, your mind sharp on your goal. you had always tried your best to fight for yourself, nothing about that would change. nothing would change. a high tension that you didn’t even realize you had dropped from your shoulder like anchors. you were secure. you were safe. 

keigo kicked a rock at the ground, “my shift ends in thirty so i should head in.” he pointed back at the door. you nodded your head, giving him a small wave as he turned to go back into the bar. 

the orange and yellow kissed hue from the sun tinted your face. you didn’t think about how long it'll actually take you to pay off your tuition. you didn’t think about the piles of homework you'd have to do when you got home. you didn’t even think about how you’d last the last half of this twelve-hour shift. 

you just closed your eyes and focused on the sunshine’s delicate mark on your skin. 

just a block down the packed city was LOV, whose grand opening last saturday had a total of twenty-three arrivals.

“told you this was a shit idea.” a gravelly voice opined as he flicked fresh ash from the window sill and let it fall onto the dirted path outside.    

a low voice snarled in response, bony fingers typing away on his computer. 

“don’t know why the old man—“

“shut up.” tomura snapped. 

touya just grinned, “whats got your panties in a bunch, boss?” he shook his head in amusement, a stupid grin unreasonably placed on his lip. “you had high hopes or something?”

“shut the fuck up.” tomura eyes didn’t leave his screen, they only squinted as he muttered something to himself and his fingers swiped across the mouse pad of his laptop. 

“god— are you like, virtually wired to the internet or something?” touya trudged over to tomuras set up, finding a comfortable spot on the back of his chair to rest his forearm on and inspect what tomura was so fixated on. 

touya (surprisingly) was stunned.

“what the fuck is that?”

his laptop displayed a website page for a bar named moonlight. the layout was impressive alone; the backdrop flashed photos of a variety of very satisfied customers at the bar. an animation of a sparkling star shot across the top of the site, lighting up the bars boldly displayed name. and even—

“shit.” touya voice dropped to a whisper, mouth hanging dangerously close to tomuras ear. “look at that. they even got an interactive menu.” he disclosed, treating it as a cherry on top of moonlight's enormous advantaged cake. 

“how the fuck are these bougie ass motherfuckers packed every. single. fucking night.” tomuras finger tapped rhythmically against his desk, seemingly mindless, but touya took notice.

touya pulled away, crossing his arms as he leaned up against tomuras desk. “we could use some better advertising.” he shrugged— acting as if he wouldn’t take huge offense if his comment wasn’t taken into consideration. luckily, tomura could recognize touya's snotty tone for what it really meant and couldn’t be bothered to push it. 

“yeah.” he sighed, elbows falling onto his desk as his hands found themselves tangled into his sea of unbrushed hair. “when you learn how to code, come back to me with that.” he taunted through gritted teeth.

touya rolled his eyes, even though he knew tomura couldn’t see. “whatever. we can’t be in the slumps forever.” scarred hands reached for his phone as he pulled up the website on his own. his feet led him to the back door, hand reaching for his coat on the rack. 

tomuras head peaked up at the sound of touya fleeting feet. 

“and where the fuck are you going?”

“out.” touya dismissed, eyes still glued onto his phone screen as he typed in the directions from the website onto his map app. 

tomura huffed out a heavy breath when the back door slammed shut. he leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms and legs far before settling back into his— what he swears is —not-so-horribly crooked posture. “fucking hell.” he muttered.

eventually his finger fell back onto his keyboard, clacking sound blending into the background noise once more. 

touya sneered on the other side of the door. his gait was confident as he followed direction of the rising moon. 

masterlist next

“here it comes, here it comes” | LCD soundsystem

✷ tomura shigaraki x touya todoroki x reader series

✶⋆.˚ gn!reader | no quirk/modern au

↳ symbol guide | ⏾ written | ★ smau

after getting a bartending job at a busy downtown bar, you find yourself caught between two complicated men— childhood friends with messy pasts and even messier communication. what starts as curiosity slowly turns into something more personal. as your nights grow more tangled and your walls start to crack, you’re left questioning what you truly want— and who you’re becoming in the process.

─── ⋆⋅ chapter guide⋅⋆ ───

one — new moon ⏾

two — meteor shower ⏾

three — double exposure ⏾

more coming soon…

comment to be added to current taglist : @s6rine @peachesvault @tlissablr @evilari111

RIP Tomura Shigaraki you would’ve loved starting every sentence with “chat,”

NOOOOOOO

BRING THEM BACK NOW

I DON'T WANT SOME RANDOM DAY I WANT THEM BACK NOW NOWWWWWW

we'll meet again

don't know where, dont know when

but I know we'll meet again

some sunny day

BROOOOOO

the bungo stray dogs brainrot is REALLL

Okay but like....

Who do you think would match best with an S/O like Dazai in Mha

Also i asked because I really wanna write something with MHA and BSD so i will write for whoever wins

You'll never take us alive!

🩷=fluff ; 🧡=comfort ; ❤️‍🔥=smut ; ❤=angst ; 🖤=death ; 🤍 =dark topics tw!

Tomura Shigaraki

Coming soon...

Kurogiri

Coming soon...

Dabi

Coming soon...

Himiko Toga

Coming soon...

Twice

Coming soon...

Mr. Compress

Coming soon...

Magne

Coming soon...

Topics such as violence, abuse and transphobia will be portrayed with care and under the knowledge I have of it as a victim myself.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TOMURA 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉

4/4: Happy Birthday Tomura Shigaraki!

👉 Tenko Shimura, Tomura Shigaraki, Symbol of Fear

👉 From Chapter 11 ~ Chapter 423

Some drawings I did of my Villain!Shoto/Pro Hero! Dabi AU.

why do all the baddies have white hair

♡ Kissed By The Baddest Villain ♡

Link To Masterlist

WC: ~3,000

CW: dirty talk, cock warming, orgasm control, edging, fem dom, loss of virginity. Proof read but no beta.

Ch 9: Ready Player Two

The night creeps by like the quiet steps of a felid, a soft presence, but one you can feel around you nonetheless. It’s near two in the morning at this point, the hideout still and devoid of any interaction. You’re somewhat used to this, the nightowl which you are—but the flashing of lights that seep from the cracks in a doorway signal that you aren’t the only one who’s awake. And naturally, it would be coming from Shigaraki’s room.

Not that you’re complaining.

It’s just been particularly difficult to feel close to him since you’d accidentally moaned at his pressing you into a wall.

You’re certain that it’s well past time to redeem yourself.

You knock lightly, a scratchy, “What?” soon to follow.

“Mind if I come in?” You ask, opening the door ever-so-slightly ajar.

Tomura’s mouth forms a tight line, his skin prickling. He thinks for a moment on whether or not he should approve your request, carmine eyes shining below a tousled mop of blue bangs. He doesn’t want to deny you. In fact, he craves this opportunity, the chance to show you that he can be desirable. You just make him feel so… weird. Like he ate something too fast, or he’s about to be stabbed. It makes his palms sweaty and causes his brow to crease at the center.

“Okay,” he relents, “But I’m not done with this level,”

You grin playfully, bouncing over to his messy bed, eyes fixed to him as he slumps over in his gaming chair. There’s something about him that’s appealing to you in a way you hadn’t quite expected. He’s adorable. Kind of a loser, but in the best possible way. So far, everyone you’ve been with has had some kind of experience, even if it had been years prior. Hell, the guy you lost your own virginity to had a kid.

But Tomura has no clue what he’s doing.

And that’s a little bit hot.

Truth be told, he really is clueless. He doesn’t know what to do with you. This doe-eyed, proper thing who smiles too much, who speaks like falling rain on a rooftop and smells like something inexplicably tantalizing, as if you’ve been kissed by the sun on a spring day. The lingering shock of you even wanting to talk to him still has him a bit shaken. What interest could you possibly have in him? He definitely doesn’t have anything for you right now. Riven’s mechanics have proven to be difficult for even him to master, and the skill cap is underwhelming him, which is a combination that is sure to have this game less than enjoyable to watch. So then what do you want?

You, on the other hand, find yourself drawn to him for several different reasons. He’s unconventionally attractive, which is hard to come by. He’s smart. He’s funny in a mean sort of way. And if you were really being honest with yourself, you’re pretty well fetishizing the virginity aspect, very high-key getting off on that power grab. You like the idea of being able to dominate someone who is so respected in the villain community. Want to see what exactly he’ll let you get away with doing to him.

“What are you playing?” His shoulders tense when you ask him this. 

There it is again.

That rollercoaster swoop in his lower belly.

“League of Legends,” he mutters, steadying his voice as much as he can manage. His tone is cool and even, but there’s this underlying shake that you barely make out, a sliver of the weakness that’s lying beneath the surface. 

Perfect.

You walk to him leisurely, place your hands on the back of the leather chair, your breaths tickling the nape of his neck, “Want to play something else?”

The screen flashes his face in stark technicolors, his breath hitching at the timbre of your tone. It sounds darker. Warmer. Sends a shiver down his spine.

“We could play RuneScape,”

With a giggle that bottoms out his stomach, you grab a lock of his hair to twist between your fingers. He smells kind of like fresh sweat from all of the panic. Has this rosy flush to his cheeks like he’s smoldering. And he trembles like a lamb, the poor thing, so unused to the physical attention. You can hear the irregular pattern to his breaths when you lean into him, his face awash in crimson, eyes owlish and large, peeking in your direction through his peripheral. What are you getting so close for? There’s no way someone like you is flirting with him right now.

“You could always play with me if you wanted,” you purr. 

Oh holy shit. 

Holy shit holy shit holy shit.

He shuffles in his seat to readjust the tent in his pants. 

“Like,” he swallows thickly, “Like you.. want to be player two?”

You laugh under your breath, “Oh my God, you are so cute,” your hand finds its way to his chin, and you gently coax him to face you, “More like I want you to lay down on the bed and let me take care of you,”

Eyes like saucers, he nods his head, does as he’s told and lies supine atop his mattress. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, so he pleats them across his stomach, pinkies lifted. He feels like he’s vibrating. Every single cell in his body is on fire, his bones reduced to gelatin. You slot your mouth to his, pressing your lips together in a kiss that’s chaste at first, his stutter-stop gasps catching in the back of his throat. You only deepen the kiss when you feel him begin to relax beneath you, nibbling at his bottom lip, licking into his mouth, eliciting choked grunts from him as he tries to hold these lewd sounds back. Your hand traces the bulge in his pants, and his eyes bolt open, jaw slacked in surprise. With him rutting against the hand that paws at him, you part to take in his expression, all pink in the cheeks and puffing breaths like smoke plumes, looking so incredibly gone after such light petting.

“You’re doing so good,” his eyes gleam at your praise, willingly accepting the way in which you play him like your own little fiddle, “Now go ahead and take your pants off,”

He shamelessly gawks at you as you undress yourself, totally stripped down and bare in a way none of them have seen you before. If you’re going to be a first for him, he could at least be the first to see you completely naked. It takes him a few seconds to register that he hasn’t done the same, lurching forward to remove his sweatpants, the throbbing length of him now exposed. He’s already so hard he’s afraid he’ll cum as soon as you touch him, dripping from the tip and achingly hot. 

“Ever done this before?”

He shakes his head—not that you were expecting a different answer. 

“Don’t worry about lasting long, then, sweetness,” his cock jumps when the epithet hits his ears, “Just let me handle everything,” you climb on top of him, and he winces as your legs cage him in, at the way you look down at him as if you’re about to devour him whole, “You just relax and take it,”

He’s already panting before you’ve even taken him inside of that wetness between your thighs, his hips preemptively canting, four-fingered fists clutching the bedding beneath him. You pat his cheek, let him keen into the touch as you line him up to your entrance. Tomura gasps when the tip of him slips into the heat of your cunt, pupils blown out, back arching off of the mattress.

“Aahk! D-don’t move!” He whines as you sink down, enveloping his cock inch by inch.

His face is so needy and twitched-up, throat bobbing in an audible gulp, stomach coiling with that taut winding that threatens to pull him apart. Fuck, you feel so good. He can’t even vocalize how amazing it is, the pulsing grip of your pussy already near to pushing him over the edge. His heart is beating so fast you can feel it beneath your palms as you steady yourself against his chest.

“You like that? Gonna cum?” There’s a glint in your eye when you ask him this, something mischievous and wild as you slowly drag yourself along his length.

“Oh, f-fuck, I.. Nngh, I c-can’t, gonna—slow down,” the jumble of words he offers barely resembles a sentence. Perspiration lines his brow, tendrils of baby blue sticking to his forehead, smothered under the stifling pressure that’s boiling just below his skin.

“I think it’s time for that game I was talking about,” you simper, “It’s called, 'how many times can I cum on your cock before you bust from that alone?’”

He grins up at you, broken little whimpers giving way to a throaty laugh. Seems as though he likes the idea of you teasing him. But judging by all those scars that litter the pale expanse of his body, you should’ve guessed that he’d enjoy something kind of mean like this. 

“Do it,” he grits through his teeth, “Cum on me,”

The heaviness to his tone sends a bolt of electricity to charge through your veins. He catches his lower lip between his teeth, watching as you run your index finger along your clit in tight circles. Your expression twists, feeling his dick nudging that spot deep inside of you as your walls tighten, the sensation alone of being full of him like this pulling you closer to unraveling. You remove your digit, press it to his lips until he parts them, sucking it roughly. He flits his gaze down to your apex, relishing in the way it twitches each time he throbs within you. The knowledge that you’re getting such pleasure from feeling his cock has his head full of cotton. When you remove your finger, a string of spit breaks before you return it to your puffy clit. 

This has got to be the hardest he’s ever been.

With each swipe of your fingertip, you moan a little more, a little louder, the octaves of your voice climbing. 

“Shit, I feel you getting tighter. Hah—so wet and so fuckin’ tight,” he groans, absentmindedly clawing at your thighs.

“I’m-I'm cumming,” you spread your legs further, burying him deeper inside of you, the pulsing heat of your cunt sucking him in.

He takes in a deliciously ragged inhale, holds his breath for several seconds as you writhe, as you moan and spasm all around him. Tomura’s voice pitches higher, sighing and chest heaving, pitiful cries sounding off with each throb of your pussy.

“You sound so fucking cute,” you breathe. 

“What ‘m I—a-ahh—supposed to sound like when you’re fucking.. nngh, squeezing me like this?” He tosses his head back, growling, “Fuck. Fuck, I can’t take it, l-lemme move,”

“I know you can take it,”

“I can’t—“

“You can. It's gonna feel so good after you wait for it, I promise,” you card your fingers through his dampened hair, “Now hold still so I can show you how to make me cum yourself,”

You guide his hand to your apex, encouraging him to ball his hand into a fist so you can safely maneuver his thumb to the pulsing need there. He’s quick to overtake your movements from earlier, studying the way your expressions change, how the tilt of your brow and crinkle of your nose tell him the best pattern to move in. A lighter touch has you sliding your hips forward for more, and a firmer press of his thumb in those same small circles he saw you doing before has your face screwed up in pleasure. It feels different when he knows this reaction is from what he’s doing to you. 

“Am I making you feel good? Is that why you’re shaking like this?” His question is half a moan.

“Uh-huh. Keep going. It feels so good,”

“Shit, you look so hot like this,” he murmurs, husky and raw, “Been cumming in my hand to this thought for months. Aah—you feel so much better ’n I’d imagined. Got such a tight—uhn—pretty little pussy,” his babbling causes you to flutter around him, the muscles of your center constricting, and he tosses his head back, “Mmnn, how—how are you this wet and warm inside? Fuck, fuck!”

Before he even has the chance to ask for a warning, you’re tumbling headlong into another orgasm, that torturous slamming of your cunt driving him to madness once more. He curses under his breath, stifling a yelp when he hears you moan his name as you cum, as you writhe in his lap and gush all over him. He wants to pull out of you and see for himself how wet you’ve made him. If you were anyone else, he would ignore your demands, take control until he’s gotten off. But for some reason, he wants you to keep telling him what to do. The fact that you get to decide when he’s allowed his release has a tension winding deep in his core, a thread that’s close to snapping, barely held together by your command for his compliance. His gaze travels your form while you collect yourself, pushing the hair away from your face, your skin blushed and dewy. He takes in the curve of your jaw, the slope of your shoulders, the starry twinkle in your eyes. You’re the kind of beautiful that people write songs about. He has no idea how he managed to get you into bed with him of all people.

“You can cum when I do this time,” your words are beginning to slur, worn out from the excursion. 

You spread your legs wider for him, grind against him just enough to give him some friction, let him see his cock filling you up all the way to the hilt. He’s panting, strained and hot and aching as he rubs your swollen little clit. The idea strikes him that you may enjoy something different this time. A new stimulation that could send you careening over that edge quicker than before. He pinches your clit, rolls it between his thumb and index finger, and your walls throb in response. You’re so overstimulated that all it takes is for him to angle himself the slightest bit upward, to nudge the head of his cock into that soft spot up inside of you, the twitching of him the final movement that’s needed to have you raking your fingernails down his chest and marking him up for everyone to see later. His voice yields to another rasping chuckle at the sensation, ruby eyes lifting skyward, so pussydrunk and mussed upon the pillow that you’d think he had seen heaven.

“Look at you, so worked up over my cock and I’m not even moving. God, just looking at you is enough to—oh—t-that feels good. I love it when you cum,” he sounds so fucking deliciously broken that you can’t hardly stand it, a blissed-out mewl bleeding into the air that damn near resembles an actual meow. That’s how incredibly far and away you’ve got him.

“Yes. Yes. Oh fuck yes,” slithers from your lips, thighs quaking as you milk his dick for the third consecutive time, “That’s it. I want you to cum for me, Tomura. And I want it now,”

Snap.

In an instant the winding tension of that thread is broken, and he's sent over a tidal wave of euphoria that’s been building within him, the crushing, rapturous squeezing of your pussy pulling the release from him. He whines and whimpers below you, close to crying as you ride him outright, a reward for being such a good boy and letting you warm his cock all this time. With an iron-clad grasp, eight fingers clamping down, he takes the plush of your thighs within his hands to pull you down into him, to make sure you allow for him to pound into you while he finally gets to breed your cunt.

He’s wrecked below you, a mess on the mattress, splatters of white leaking out onto his legs as his lower lip trembles.

“Yumemi,” he gravels. 

You catch your breath enough to reply, “Yeah?”

You think he’s about to ask for a glass of water or for some help sitting up with how utterly devastated he looks down there.

But to your surprise, he asks, bright eyes locked onto yours, “Can we go again?”

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

some tomura hcs that i’ve posted to my tiktok and think deserve to be posted here too

he hyperfixated on heroes, researching and looking into their strategies in fights and what their strengths and weaknesses were. probably frequented hero rankings and started arguments in comments

when he was younger he was super into dogs because of mon. it was his idea to get mon-chan so he did a lot of research and went on spiels daily about different dog breeds to his mum and hana

whenever kurogiri would show a little interest in one of his games he would ramble ENDLESSLY. talking about what game is was, what characters were his fav and why, strategies to win and possible cheats or shortcuts he had read about or figured out himself. he would infodump so much about whatever game he was playing, and kurogiri would always listen.

tomura struggled when the others first joined the league. he didn’t know how to talk to them at all. he’d miss hints from others or little social queues that they thought were obvious. but tomura would also notice tiny details that even they didn’t know. like little habits they picked up when in conversations or meetings.

tomuras scratching isn’t always because of the “need to destroy” like afo had tried to make him believe. he used it as a way to stim when he would think up strategies and solutions as well as just keep his hands busy.

he has a really bad attention span. he has to have multiple things going at once to keep his mind busy because otherwise he’ll cycle through 3 different activities and that annoys him.

tomura is a chronic snacker and as much as kurogiri tried to give him a routine to keep his nutrition up tomura just couldn’t stick to it.

he’s also chronically nauseous. from either lack of food or eating too much at once or from being nervous about something he always feels a little sick

he’s also always sleepy.

he doesn’t like eye contact. unless he’s the one initiating it. afo had tried to train it into him that eye contact was a good tool to have, so he’d always force tomura to maintain eye contact during whatever afo dragged him into whether it be lectures or monologues afo would always try make sure tomuras eye contact was consistent. when afo was locked away however tomura dropped the habit super quick. he hates holding eye contact and usually only does it if 1. it’s someone he tolerated talking to (like spinner) or 2. he’s using it as a way to gain leverage in a situation.

he would be the prettiest girl ever, if only he had a chance 😮‍💨

girlfailure

when one of my friends asked me "hey who's your favorite character in mha?":

I love yapping about Tomura and I specially love when people ask questions; like yes it’s so fun to educate these people about The Character. The Guy. The One and Only .. everybody needs to hear these tales full of whimsy and Terror !!!!