My Delirious Headcanon Is That Shigaraki Is Mostly Just A Spirit For Deku Than An Actual Vestige Given

I LOVE HOW SHIGA SITS PART 2

Like some kind of “Man-Child”

Shigaraki is constantly compared to a child by the other characters around him. Whether it’s the staff at UA calling him a manchild, Ujiko saying he’s a twenty year old brat who has accomplished nothing with his life, or Spinner saying he chases his dreams like a child, Shigaraki’s immaturity and underdeveloped psyche is something constantly commented upon others. 

There are two questions to ask now. One, why did Shigaraki turn out this way, and two what does it mean for his character and future growth? 

Keep reading

"He loved video games"

"Tomura Shigaraki was my hero"

Obedience Training

Part 1

Part 1 Part 2  Part 3  Part 4

Shigaraki x Female Reader

SMUT NSFW 18 +

OK my first story. Any feedback would be appreciated. Also big thanks to @shigatomu and @krystalwithakay for advice and help with grammar and punctuation.

Shigaraki sat on the old torn couch, legs propped up on the long wooden table in front of him, staring off into space while his mind wondered. Not to killing All-Might or becoming the next leader, no, his thoughts were on you. Always you.

Ever since you had joined the league he couldn’t get you out of his head. You had taken up permanent occupancy there and it was driving him mad. Your image was rooted in his mind. Thoughts of you constantly playing on repeat.

You had become a want, a need, an obsession. Something he had to possess, to own. You would be his. He was sure he would snap any minute if he didn’t have you. The longing was too much. The constant hunger to have you, the desire to feel your soft skin under his fingertips. His hands running down your body, over your curves, up your thighs, finally ending between your legs where your tight entrance waited. He was desperate to have your body pressed to his and hear your moans as he plunged into your dripping heat.

What would you sound like as he slammed into you, he wondered. Would you cry, moan, tremble? He would make you scream his name, mewl in pleasure, and whimper in pain.  He wouldn’t be a gentle lover.

He would leave his marks and bruises all over you. A show of his ownership. You wouldn’t be able to walk for a week when he was done. He wanted you to wither under him, to be his, only his.

A toy for him to play with that he would break. A pet to tame and obey his every command, fill his every need. You would know your place, which was on your knees before him or beneath him legs spread wide. His personal fuckdoll. God, what your mouth would feel like as he rammed his cock down your throat.

He just needed to get you alone. The day seemed to start out perfectly. The rest of the League was away dealing with something he couldn’t be bothered to remember and it was just you and him.

It was perfect. There was no one to interrupt him. No one to distract or interfere.

“Huh, of course you wouldn’t be willing,” he thought to himself, “why would she want me?”

His hands reached up to his face, touching his scars around his eyes, up his forehead, and reminding himself of something he’d prefer to forget. In his mind, he was a scarred up freak with cracked, dry lips and facial scars that no woman would want. Why would you want him?

You were gorgeous, witty, smart. You could have any guy. Not that it matters, not anymore. His need was consuming him. You would be his. He would never let you go.

The number of times he had crept into your room at night, looming over you as you slept dreaming peacefully. You looked like an angel and he was a demon waiting to ruin you. His large calloused hand reached down, pulling the covers off you to gaze at your body. Fuck, just the thought alone made him instantly hard.

The swell of your breast under your skimpy cotton top, the hard buds of your nipples showing through. The way your hips fanned out from your small waist your plump ass just begging to be spanked, grabbed.

Fuck- he needed you on all fours, He could just see it, you with your ass in the air and your head down begging for him to stop, or maybe you’d be into it and want him to go faster. Maybe you would enjoy the pain of being taken deeply from behind. He will not hold back with you.

But unfortunately for him, that day threw a curve ball at him to ruin everything. One of your friends needed you and instead of hanging out at the hideout like every other fucking day, you left. The thought brought a scowl to his face, frustration growing in his chest. A growl rising in his throat.

So now he was alone, alone with a growing hard-on and a failed plan. He hated not getting his way. His fist clenched at the thought of what he could have been doing right now, anger coursing through his veins.

He should be teaching you how to please him. How to be a good girl for your master. “Fuck,“ he growled out as he let his hand travel to his pants palming his growing erection through the fabric. Images of you played in his mind.

He wanted to hear his name pour out of your cute mouth in that sweet voice of yours. To taste the wetness of your tight cunt, his large hands holding you in place as he set a fast rough pace, slamming into you as you cried from the pain and pleasure of it all.

Dipping one hand beneath the waistband to grip his thick shaft. Pre-cum already leaking from the tip. He closed his eyes and became consumed by his fantasy, imagining your delicate hand instead of his own. Thinking about how tight your velvet channel will feel. Those luscious lips wrapped around his twitching cock.

He was so close. He could feel it. The tension tightening in his balls. Just a few more strokes and he would have been done, getting a temporary relife when all of a sudden a loud bang startled him bringing him out of his fantasy. His head snapping towards the cause of the noise, anger clear on his face, hand flexing ready to decay whoever disturbed him.

What he saw only made him smile that maniacal ear-to-ear grin.

There you were in all your beauty - his wet dream walking.

“Stupid fucking idiot,” you grumbled as you threw your keys down on the dusty counter. Apparently your friend had pissed you off so much you came back to the hideout early. You looked up, noticing your boss.

“Oh! Hey, Shigaraki! I didn’t think you’d be here,” You chirped as he discreetly removed his busy hand from his pants, grinning widely at you.

“Hello, little kitten,” he rasped.

You were taken back by both the nickname and grin. That grin sent shivers down your spine. How was such a crazy grin sexy? And oh, that voice of his made your knees feel like jelly. You shook your head, clearing out such thoughts. Your fight or flight instincts were whispering for you to retreat. And what was with him calling you kitten?

“Day not going as planned, princess?” he croaked out, getting to his feet as he turned to face you; His arousal more than noticeable. Your eyes widen at the large bulge in his pants realizing just what you walked in on.

Part 1 Part 2  Part 3  Part 4

Let me know what you guys think. I really enjoyed writing and look forward to part 2 if anybody want it. I’m new to fanfiction so be gentle. Thanks again for reading.

Tomura x Female Reader

word count: 1,300+

(You tend to Tomura’s dry, cracked hands and itchy skin while the two of you watch a movie.)

disclaimer/content warning: no warnings apply! just a lil sfw drabble in honor of tomura’s birthday. also reader has a technology/hacking quirk. enjoy!

The light from the television cast the room in a pale glow, muted colors shifting from blue to green and back to blue again as the scene of the movie oscillated between the perspective of the two main characters— the protagonist and antagonist about to come to a head.

Tomura was enraptured, unable to tear his unblinking gaze from the screen as the tense music began to pick up speed, the cuts between the two opposing sides getting faster and faster until they met on the same ground, the final fight about to build to a crescendo.

You, however, were currently focused on something much more important than a dramatic psychological thriller you’d already seen a million times.

Because, being carefully massaged between your soft little hands was one of Tomura’s big, rough palms, the skin cracked and flaking with irritation.

“Tomu…” you murmured, sort of with a concerned, sympathetic coo. “I told you… you don’t need to wait until they’re this bad to come to me. I can do it nightly, I don’t mind.”

All he gave in response was a simple hum and a barely detectable nod. You felt his hand tense slightly in yours as the fight took a turn and the villain got the upper hand. You knew that’s who he was rooting for, though, unfortunately, very few films ended with the bad guys winning in the end.

You continued to work the first layer of lotion into one of his hands, then reached over to grab the other from his lap, giving it the same treatment. It was a thin, lightweight hand cream that, for you, normally did the trick. In the colder months, maybe you would have to reapply it two or three times a day, at most, but for Tomura, you’d gathered every lotion, cream, and salve within your moisturizing arsenal to treat him with.

All it took was one look at his hands to know it was going to be a lengthy process.

“Just tell me if any of it starts to burn or sting,” you instructed him, finishing with his left hand and retaking up the right one where, just as you’d thought, the first layer of lotion had already soaked all the way in and left his hand still feeling dry, albeit slightly less rough. “And if you notice any unusual redness by tomorrow you need to—”

“I know, I know,” he sighed, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He appreciated your help, truly he did, but he wasn’t used to having someone fuss over him like this. The care you offered was still a foreign thing to him.

He remedied the harsher edges of his voice then by looking over and giving a small grin, chapped lips beseeching of your attention as well. Lightly squeezing your hand in his, he said, “I’ll let you know.”

That seemed to placate you, for the time being at least, and you resumed your work tending to his hands.

“You better…” you muttered with a crooked grin.

Now moving onto the second layer, you flipped open the cap of a thicker, slightly stronger eczema cream. It would help lock the moisture in better than the surface layer that you’d just finished applying. It was your favorite for whenever you, yourself, encountered any stubborn dry patches on your own skin. A few days of this stuff and your ailment would disappear. You figured it would take a few weeks to have even half the effect on Tomura, though, it wasn’t so much the appearance of his skin that concerned you. It was more so how the constant itching sensation affected him.

It was painful, you could tell. It showed in the way he flinched and hissed and scratched himself raw, carving new scars over old ones. It hurt you to watch him hurting, so whatever you could do to help him feel more comfortable in his own skin, you were more than willing to try.

“Ah, man…” you heard Tomura grumble, clicking his tongue in annoyance. “They always let the heroes win. So predicable…”

He turned his attention away from the movie— there was only about ten minutes left now anyway— and instead decided to focus more on you now.

“What’s this one do?” He half-mockingly, half-curiosity inquired, plucking up step three of your six step lotion lineup for the night. He narrowed his eyes as he read the packaging, smirk widening as he asked with a bit of a chuckle, “And what the fuck is colloidal oatmeal?”

You swiped it from his grasp, motioning for him to give you back his hand.

“It helps your skin!” was all you could offer in defense. And then, before he could tease you any further, you said, “Now stop stalling and sit still.”

To humor you, Tomura complied, though the way his entire body relaxed the more you lulled him with the soothing circles you massaged into his hand spoke to just how much he’d needed this. Craved it. He never asked for it himself, but whenever you told him to sit down and let you tend to him, he never tried to argue.

“Y’know, I’ve been trying to do some research,” you eventually admitted, “and I think I might’ve found a few products that could really give you some relief in the long term. They’re pricey but…”

“Well,” Tomura shrugged. “That’s what shoplifting was invented for.”

At that, you gave a gentle chuckle. “Well, some of these things are prescription only…” You shot him a coy glance. “Which is why I’ve also been researching how to commit prescription fraud.”

“Ah,” he replied, perking with sarcasm. “Glad to see your robbery skills are leveling up.”

You let out another laugh, opened the cap to the next ointment. “Forging medical documents might be the boss battle,” you joked.

“Yeah…” he sighed, something in his expression softening then. “But if anyone can beat it, it’s gonna be you.”

You felt yourself warming to his praise. You were his favorite little hacker, after all, your quirk allowing you to enter into any kind of technology— the internet included— and navigate through it as if it were a physical space, your consciousness traveling into the coding and giving you the ability to alter things, to fidget with and rearrange the contents like they were items on a shelf or paintings on a wall.

By now, you were nearing the end of your moisturizing process, a pile of previous lotions, potions, oils, and hand creams collecting on your side of the couch.

“How does it feel?” you asked him. He hadn’t complained about any discomfort, but you still wanted to make sure.

“Mm, pretty good, I think,” he answered. Though, what he really liked most about these exchanges wasn’t necessarily the effect it had on his skin, but rather getting to have your full attention, privately, away from the other members of the League.

He liked how meticulously you tended to his hands, making sure to get every inch from fingertips to wrists.

He liked how you touched him with such gentle care, dare it be compared to love.

“Good,” you smiled, interlocking your fingers with his as soon as you were done. After these sessions, your palms were even softer than they'd been at the start.

You snuggled against his shoulder, resting your head against it even though it was a bit boney. His hand grasped yours just a little tighter, a silent plea for you to stay here, like this, with him, for just a while longer.

“Thank you…” Tomura eventually muttered, sounding halfway to dozing off. You were starting to drift too, so you almost missed it. But once it registered to you you grinned, softly nuzzling against him.

“Anytime,” you murmured.

Anytime.

League of Villains transparents from the "Emotions" character pages

MY BABY