@chr1sk0 Thank You For The Ship Idea

you CANNOT tell me shigaraki isn’t shameless enough to put spinner in a maid dress. i wish i could show his hemipenis but tumblr guidelines…. i had to nerf him by giving him panties (might start my posting on Bluesky/Twitter or smth)… i wanted to draw more than just this suggestive stuff but i was too lazy. plus the sketch itself is a little lazy too.

full thing under the cut

𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙨𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙩 𝙞𝙩'𝙙 𝙗𝙚 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢 𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙚.

late night snack runs with your boss, shigaraki!

a/n ☾ ⋆*･ ahhh this is one of my fav shiggy pieces!! also i may or may not have forgotten to capitalize like i usually do :O enjoy!

shigaraki was surprised to hear a knock on his bedroom door so late at night - he lifted his head off his palm and groggily pushed his sore elbows off the table they were propped up against. he had fallen asleep at his desk. again.

his eyes caught onto the bright red lights of the clock that red 1:32 am, before he twisted his door open with a grumble

out of all the things that could have been on the other side of his door, the last person he expected was you at this hour.

"uh oh. were you sleeping shiggy?" you question with a quiet laugh as he glares at you silently, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand as he huffs

"no- i was just about to though. did you need something?" he questions, suddenly aware of the fact that his hair was definitely all over the place - tousled with sleep and exhaustion. embarrassed, he peers down at you with a grimace

"i'm hungry for gas station udon."

the sigh he lets out is so dramatic that you can't help but laugh. he glances back at the clock on his desk before back at you, his lips set in a thin line as he closes the door. you blink at the wood in front of your face for about five seconds before he opens it again - a black coat thrown over his frame

"let's go." he sneers, waving at your pajamas with a scowl "you better get changed qui-"

he's cut off by your squeals, flinching when you wrap your arms around him in a grateful hug

"thank you boss man! you're the best-" you grin, even as he stands as stiff as a board while you hug him. he grumbles something under his breath as you pull away and show him your palm, all fingers up - "five minutes shiggy! be right back!"

you've disappeared before he could even respond, a tinge of pink coating his pale cheeks as he huffs

you're out within a few minutes wearing gloves and a hat pulled over your hair. one of shigaraki's winter jackets - which was little too big for you as you practically drowned in the fabric, hung over your frame as you stepped out of your room with a grin.

you're both out of the hideout soon enough. shigaraki notices how the tip of your nose is pink from the freezing temperature, and how cold frost expelled from your mouth every time you cracked one of your ridiculous jokes that had him struggling to suppress his laughter, because he'd be damned if he laughed at one of your corny pick up lines.

"you're lucky they're open twenty four hours a day." he points out, opening the door of the gas station as the bell above the door jingles to life - indicating there were customers to the old man who sat behind the counter as he read something. he sent a polite smile in greeting before his eyes averted back to whatever it was he was reading

"yeah- ooo they restocked my flavors!" you exclaim, recognizing the familiar colorful packaging stacked neatly near the back of the store as you tug shigaraki along - he follows begrudgingly, and surprisingly doesn't tug his hand out of yours

he watches you ogle the colorful packaging and has to physically restrain himself from scoffing. what's so interesting about it anyway - you're acting like you've stepped into some sort of a gourmet restaurant with the way your tongue pokes out to lick your frost coated lips!

"i want that one-" you finally say, pointing to the top shelf where 'shrimp tempura' was displayed on the label of the cup in italics. with a sigh, your boss reaches up above you and picks two off the shelf and hands them to you. "happy?" he grumbles

your enthusiastic nod has him grunting in response, but when he turns to head to the cash register, you tug on his sleeve - "shiggy, you need to pick one too!"

he turns around with furrowed brows. "i'm not hungry-"

but he's cut off by you shoving your cup into his arms as you turn back to the wall, observing and humming thoughtfully as you try and find a flavor shigaraki would like - maybe something light, and a bit spicy.

picking up another container that seemed more like his taste, you grab onto shigaraki's sleeve with a final nod - tugging him to the cash register with the goods in hand.

it was almost comical how you were dragging him around, like a dog on a leash. but shigaraki wasn't protesting. especially not if you were the one dragging him around. a part of him loathed the fact he would follow you to the ends of the world if the time came - but for now, snack runs would do too.

while you make small talk with the old man behind the register and pay for everything, shigaraki is quiet behind you.

he's unsure how to act after you insisted on him getting some food too. why did he care so much? you seemed to have already forgotten your simply gesture, laughing at something the elderly man said as shigaraki looms behind you.

you turn around to ask shigaraki something, but the thought slips your mind when you find him already burning a hole into the back of your head - staring blankly. his back straightens quickly when you catch him staring and you snort - making a mental note to tease him later about his staring habit.

the moment the cashier hands you the plastic bag, shigaraki is tugging you out of the store and onto the cold streets

"someone's hungry." you giggle, watching the way his brows pull together - his usual scowl faltering when you laugh even harder

"you're the one who dragged me all the way out here-"

but he's cut off with an overly dramatic gasp as you stop walking. he turns back in confusion, before he follows the trail of your gaze

oh no.

"absolutely not."

about a dozen yards from the two of you, stood a playground.

"shiggy it's covered in snow! imagine it - you're sliding down the slide and fall right on your ass! hah! we are so going!" you squeal.

tomura thought your enthusiasm for gas station udon would go unmatched - yet here you were, climbing onto the swings and asking him to push you.

sure, he would push extra hard and let out a raspy cackle when you yelped - demanding he slow down. your legs kicked through the air as you helplessly threaten him, but your laughter sounded through the air regardless, and tomura can't remember a moment where he'd felt quite as happy as he does now.

he's crammed into the little house attached to the swings and slide now - god forbid someone sees the leader of the league sitting in a little wooden cottage with little rainbows and hearts painted all over its surface. you gently tuck the little plastic bag containing your packaged food onto the ground beside you.

"shiggy - this could make an excellent hide out if we ever need a place to crash." you whisper with a bashful smile

"sure." he whispers back, even though there's no one else around to hear either of you. he watches your eyes drift out the little window in the playhouse. the snow falls softly outside, coating the grass in a thick blanket. you see a few specks in your boss's light blue hair - a smile curling on your lips at the sight

he rolls his eyes, but makes no further comment. it's quiet now - the only sound being gentle whoosh of the falling snow. your hand shifts forward and lays flat on shigaraki's thigh - palm up. his eyes quickly move to your face when you do - and he's met with a cheeky grin

"i forgot to bring gloves. think you can warm up my hands?" you question, an amused smile on your face as you quickly tuck your glove into the pocket of your coat and out of sight. not very sneaky- but who cares?

he's still. watching you quietly. he blames the way his fingers curl and intertwine with yours on the cold weather freezing the gears in his mind needed to function properly.

it's so nice. that's all you can think as he brushes a tentative thumb over your knuckles, turning to look at the falling snow out the window with you.

blind date (part ii) - shigaraki x reader

After endless failed attempts to help Tomura up his game, his friends have settled on their last resort: A blind date. Even before you show up, it's not going well. No quirks AU, female reader.

Part 1

Part 2

“No.”

“Yes,” you say. You look sort of embarrassed. “Eight times.”

“No way.” Tomura studies you across the table. His eyes feel blurry with exhaustion and alcohol, but he’d prop his eyelids open with toothpicks before he’d let you think he was falling asleep. “I don’t buy it. Two, maybe. Not eight.”

“Why would I lie about this?” You take a sip of a drink. It might be yours, or it might be Tomura’s. There are so many mostly-empty glasses on the table between the two of you that Tomura’s forgotten which ones he ordered. “If anything, I’d lie the other way. Being stood up for eight first dates isn’t exactly a good sign.”

Tomura finds another drink, finishes it, and gives his verdict. “It’s a sign you met eight stupid guys.”

“I don’t think that’s it,” you say. “If it was one person, or two – but eight? At that point it’s more likely that I’m the problem.”

Tomura doesn’t think so. Tomura’s been talking to you for a while. Probably hours. He lost track of time at some point, probably around when he lost track of which drinks were his and which were yours, and there’s nothing about you that looks like a problem to him. Except the fact that nobody else is dating you, and that looks more like a crazy stroke of luck for Tomura than anything else.

Tomura might not be good at this shit, but he’s not naïve. He keeps checking in with himself, trying to make sure his interest in you isn’t just because you’re a woman who’s talked to him for longer than five minutes without looking at your phone. He hasn’t seen you take your phone out except once, and that was to put it on silent. Which was – hot isn’t right, but Tomura doesn’t really have a better word, except nice, which isn’t right, either. It’s not just because you’re a woman who talked to him or held his hand or ran to meet him even though you were late. He likes a lot of other things about you, too.

He likes that you showed up looking the way you actually look most of the time, instead of dressing up like Magne told you to. He likes that you don’t try to pretend to be something you’re not. When Tomura started talking about video games, you didn’t act like you knew something about them – just like he didn’t pretend he knew something when you started talking about horror movies or novels or manga. You’re funny, but not on purpose. Or at least that’s what Tomura thought, until he glanced at your face after you’d said something that made him laugh and realized that it was what you’d been hoping to do.

“Sorry,” you say, and Tomura snaps out of it. “Talking about past dates on a first date is kind of a red flag, isn’t it?”

“I asked,” Tomura says, wondering if you called this a first date because you’re hoping for a second one. You shrug. “If you’ve met that many shitty guys, how come you agreed to this? What did Magne tell you about me?”

“What did she tell me.” You finish one of the drinks and grimace slightly. “Um, she said you were my age.”

“Okay.”

“She said you have a job,” you continue, “and friends.”

“Yeah,” Tomura agrees. “We have an apartment. We were friends before we had the apartment. It’s not just because we have an apartment.”

“Magne said you’ve all known each other forever,” you say. You smile slightly. “It sounds nice.”

It’s a good thing Tomura’s known them forever. He hasn’t had a lot of luck making friends as an adult. The closest he’s come to making a friend as an adult is probably Dabi’s stupid fiancé, and that’s only because he never leaves. Toga keeps saying that she thinks he’ll like her girlfriend, but she also never lets her girlfriend within a kilometer of the apartment. One time Tomura asked her why not and Toga gave him the weirdest look he’s ever seen. “You’re all boys,” she said. “You’re gross.”

Maybe that’s true. Tomura’s never been in a woman’s apartment, so he doesn’t really have a way to confirm. How gross could it be, really? He should probably ask Toga for specifics. “Did Magne say anything else?”

“She said online dating and the apps weren’t really working for you,” you say. “You do better in person. I don’t know what you’re like online, but – I feel like she was probably right.”

Tomura’s face flushes. He finishes another drink to cover it up. “Your turn,” you say. “What did Magne tell you about me?”

“Uh,” Tomura starts. He finds another drink, but can’t quite stomach finishing it just yet. He’s already about to screw this up, and it’s going to be worse if he throws up on you afterwards. “Not much. Just that you were a girl and you were my age and that you agreed to it.”

You laugh at that. “That’s the important stuff,” you say. “She did a good job managing your expectations.”

“No,” Tomura says. You blink. “She should have told me more.”

“She doesn’t really know more,” you say. “I only see her at work. She got my number so I could tell her when I’m on shift and my boss is off.”

“What’s your boss’s deal, anyway?” Tomura asks. “Just an all-purpose asshole, or –”

“He’s not great to us. The employees, I mean.” You don’t like talking about this. Tomura can tell. “But he makes things really hard on customers who have certain prescriptions. HRT and stuff like that. He doesn’t do anything they can report him for, but he makes it so miserable for them that they don’t want to come in to pick their meds up.”

Tomura knows that type. Magne runs into that type a lot. If it happens when all of them are out together, Tomura and the others take care of it, but they can’t be there every second. “A few people have my number,” you continue. “I give them a heads-up when their prescriptions are in and he’s out.”

“Why didn’t she tell me that?”

“She did,” you say. Tomura meant before, and says so. “Maybe she thought you’d think I was too nice.”

Tomura snorts. “That guy who tried to cut us in line didn’t think you were too nice.”

If he’d been by himself, Tomura would have let it slide just because he doesn’t care enough, but you blocked the guy’s way with your arms crossed, and when he told you to move, you stared at him until he backed off. “Okay, so not too nice,” you say. You pick up another glass, see it’s empty, and wince. “But if she’d told you more about me, you’d have found a reason not to show up.”

“If she’d told you more about me, you’d have said no.” Tomura feels pretty confident in that, and more so with however many drinks under his belt. “She told you I was bad at app dating.”

“Lots of people are.”

“So bad at it that I’ve never been on a date.” Tomura feels pretty good about one-upping you right up until he sees your eyes widen, but his mouth is way ahead of his brain. “Beat that.”

It’s quiet for a second. Tomura stares at you, feeling his face heat up with embarrassment, while you peer into glass after glass, trying to find one that hasn’t been emptied yet. “I don’t know,” you say. “I think being stood up eight times is worse.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“My record is terrible,” you say. You find one more glass and drain it. “Your record, on the other hand – you’re one for one. I’d say that’s pretty good.”

“One for one on what?” Tomura asks.

“Dates,” you say. “This one’s going well.”

“Yeah?” Tomura’s mouth goes dry. He looks around for a glass with something in it, so that he’ll be able to speak without swallowing his tongue, but he comes up empty. You slide your water glass across the table to him and Tomura gulps half of it. “You think it’s going well?”

You looked pretty calm until he said that. Tomura sees you getting nervous. He slides the glass of water back across the table to you in case you want to drink it, but you leave it alone. “I mean,” you start, “we met up at five-forty-five, and it’s almost last call. Maybe it’s just me, but I wouldn’t spend eight hours hanging out with somebody if it wasn’t going well.”

“Last call?” Tomura says, like a dumbass, only for the bartender to shout it out to the room at large a few seconds later. “Eight hours? Really?”

You nod. “So either it’s going well,” you say, “or you just didn’t have anything better to do.”

If Tomura doesn’t want to be somewhere, he goes home even if there’s nothing better to do. He’d rather spend hours watching the most boring vintage simulation game streams in history than spend two seconds longer being social than he wants to. Eight hours hanging out with one person is a record, even once Tomura subtracts the bathroom breaks he had to take because he was dumb enough to break the seal four drinks in. Has he ever spent eight hours doing nothing but talking with someone without getting bored? No. Not even close.

“It’s going well,” he says, and you look relieved. Not happy, just relieved. That’s – not good. “They’re kicking us out now.”

“Yeah.” You get to your feet and stagger a little bit. You probably drank at least as much as Tomura did, but you’re shorter than him, and you’re a woman. Are you okay? “I’m going to go pay. We should figure out rides home. The trains don’t run this late.”

Tomura fucked up somehow. He can’t figure out how, but he’s pretty sure he did. But you’re still about to get kicked out, and somebody has to pay the tab – and somebody has to figure out how you two are getting home. He gets to his feet, too. “I’ll get it. It can’t be that much.”

You look back at all the glasses on the table. “I think it’s going to be a lot. We’ll split.”

Even with the split, it’s more than Tomura’s spent on a night out, ever – and the longer he spends upright, the clearer it is that he’s trashed. You’re trashed, too. Maybe less than he is, because you’re still trying to work out how to get home. “It’ll be cheaper if we split a rideshare,” you say, and hold out your phone. “Put in your address.”

Tomura forgets his own address for a second. Then he types it in, and you take your phone back. “Okay. It’ll drop you off first, then me. Let’s go.”

Tomura follows you out, only weaving a little bit, and then the two of you are on the sidewalk again. The air’s still warm and humid, but at least there’s more of a breeze than there was before. You lean against the boardwalk railing and Tomura copies you. He leaves one hand open at his side in case you want to reach for it. You don’t, so Tomura goes for yours instead, and you look up at him. “Tomura?”

“It’s going well,” Tomura says. Your eyes slide away from his, and he asks a question that’s been on his mind since an hour or so in. “Want to do it again?”

“Stay out until two am on a work night and blow five times my hourly rate on drinks?” You shake your head. “Go on another date? Yeah.”

Tomura hears all of that in the right order, except the thing in the middle that he actually asked about. “It’s a work night?”

“For you, too. You said earlier.” Your hand moves in Tomura’s, unfolding your fingers to lace them together with his. “We should have called it quits four hours ago.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want to.” Tomura shouldn’t have had this much to drink. He’s saying stuff he probably shouldn’t. Or should he? He doesn’t see the point in lying about shit on a regular basis. Why start now? “I still don’t.”

Next to Tomura, you take a deep breath, then let it go. “Okay. Give me your phone.”

Tomura fishes it out of his pocket with his free hand and passes it to you, then has to take it back to unlock it. He watches as you navigate to his contacts and add yourself to them – your first name, plus the words “blind date”, like Tomura’s going to forget who you are. How many women do you think he has in his phone? You hand it back to him after saving your contact and Tomura waits for you to hand yours over so he can add his number to yours. You don’t. “I need your phone. You need my number.”

“If you text me, then I’ll have it,” you say. “If you don’t, I won’t need it.”

Tomura feels weird about that. “Is this some kind of test?”

“I’ve gotten stood up eight times. I’m done chasing after people who don’t want me.” You loosen your grip on Tomura’s hand, like you’re giving him the chance to let go. “I ran sixteen blocks to meet you. You can send me a text.”

Tomura can see where you’re coming from. Sort of. The rideshare shows up, and the two of you slide into the backseat. Going from standing up to sitting down gives Tomura some kind of drunken headrush, and he slumps sideways against you. “Sorry –”

“It’s fine.” You shift around in your seat until Tomura’s cheek is resting on your shoulder. You’re still holding his hand. “I don’t mind.”

Tomura doesn’t mean to fall asleep, but the next thing he knows, the rideshare’s coming to a stop outside his apartment building and you’re shaking him awake with the hand that was holding his. “We’re here,” you say. “It was nice to meet you, okay? I had a really good night.”

Tomura nods. His mouth tastes like something died in it, and his mind feels foggy, but not so foggy that he can’t figure out how he wants to say goodbye. Maybe you know. “What do we do?”

“How about a hug?”

Sounds good. Tomura’s mouth tastes too bad for kissing, anyway, and his lips are gross enough to make you wish you’d never met him. He reaches out and drags you awkwardly across the backseat and into his arms, and you – fit. Tomura normally hates touching people, and he hates it even more when he’s drunk, but you fit, still and quiet with your head tucked in against his shoulder and your eyelashes brushing the side of his neck when you blink. Tomura could go back to sleep like this, easy. He’s having a hard time keeping his eyes open.

“Hey,” the driver says from the front seat. “Are you staying or going?”

“Are you in a big hurry or something?” Tomura pulls away from you with an effort and gets out of the car. The door shuts behind him, and Tomura turns to say goodbye, but he’s too slow. All he gets is a glimpse of your face through the window as the rideshare drives away.

Tomura should text you right now. The thought occurs to him, but then a mosquito bites him, and he slaps it a second too late. He’ll get inside the stupid building and get to his room, and then he can text you. It’s a good plan. Whether Tomura will remember it by the time he gets to the apartment is an entirely different story.

Tomura and his friends live on the top floor. The entire top floor. It used to be a penthouse, back when both the building and the neighborhood weren’t shit, but now the rent is cheap enough that the seven of them can afford it together. They all get their own rooms, three bathrooms is usually enough for everybody, and usually there’s at least one person who’s willing to cook dinner and let the rest of them mooch. Tomura and his roommates all keep weird hours, but by two-thirty in the morning everybody’s usually in their rooms, even if they’re awake. He’s not going to bother anybody as long as he’s quiet.

Or at least that’s what Tomura thinks. He’s dead wrong, because when the elevator doors open, he finds all the lights on in the living room, and most of the people he lives with sitting in there, wide awake. It looks like they’re waiting for something. It occurs to Tomura with slowly dawning horror that they’re waiting for him.

He makes the first move out of shock more than anything else. “What the fuck?”

“We decided to wait up for you. Since it’s baby’s first date and all,” Dabi says with a smirk. His stupid fiancé is here, too, perched on the arm of the chair Dabi’s in. “So how’d it go?”

Tomura doesn’t want to talk about this when he’s drunk. He wouldn’t want to talk to Dabi about it stone sober. He shakes his head. “Come on,” Twice announces from where he’s sprawled out on the rug next to Toga. “Nobody comes back from a date at three in the morning and gets to shake his head about it. Spill. No, don’t spill! I don’t want any nasty details.”

“I want all the nasty details,” Magne says. “What happened?”

“Perhaps we shouldn’t quiz him,” Sako says from the other chair. “Shigaraki will tell us what he wants to, when he wants to.”

Sako is officially the only person Tomura’s not pissed at right now. “No, he has to tell us now,” Toga says. “We’ve all been working on this for a month. We have to hear how it went!”

“Give us at least a few details,” Dabi’s idiot fiancé says. “We need something to base our wild speculations on.”

“You don’t live here,” Tomura says. Dabi glares at him. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Wait, it was bad?” Spinner runs the opposite way with it. “Why didn’t you just come back? Or you could have called us – we’d come drink with you –”

“It wasn’t bad,” Tomura snaps. “I got her number.”

He was hoping that would shut everybody up. Instead they all trade glances. “That’s it?” Dabi asks, incredulous. “You get back an hour after last call and all you got was her number?”

That’s not all Tomura got. “She said we should go out again. And we held hands.”

“Are you thirteen or something? That’s so lame,” Dabi’s idiot fiancé says. “Was she like, not –”

“She’s not that kind of girl,” Magne says. She reaches over from the couch to punch Dabi in the arm, even though it was the goddamn fiancé who said it. “You think I’d set Shigaraki up with that kind of girl?”

“Yeah, because that’s the kind of girl he’ll be dealing with in Vegas. Did you time-warp back to the fifties when I wasn’t looking?” Dabi grimaces. “You’re supposed to be upping your game. This is a setback.”

Tomura finally gets his feet under him. “No, it isn’t,” he says. “I had fun.”

He feels weird saying it, even though it’s true. He had fun walking around with you trying to find a bar you both wouldn’t hate, because both of you hate when things get too loud. He had fun talking about any of the fifty things the two of you talked about over the course of the eight hours you spent together. He liked seeing you square off with the asshole who tried to cut you both in line and he liked seeing you order the weirdest drink on the menu, even though it was disgusting and neither of you could finish it. He liked that he didn’t notice you trying to make him laugh until it already happened. He liked holding your hand.

Tomura had fun on his date, end sentence. “You guys are assholes. I’m going to bed.”

“We’re not assholes! We want to help,” Twice protests. “You don’t need our help! You’re doing fine.”

“Yeah, I’m with Twice,” Spinner says. Twice starts arguing with him, but Spinner ignores it. “It’s a win if you say it’s a win. Hanging out with somebody who’s not us for that long is definitely a win.”

“It’s not a game,” Toga says. She rolls over on her back and stares up at Tomura. “Are you going to text her?”

Right. Tomura was going to do that. He fumbles his phone out of his pocket. “No,” Dabi and his fucking fiancé say at the same time. Dabi keeps talking. “It hasn’t even been an hour. Are you trying to look desperate?”

“I texted Ochako while I was on the train home from our first date,” Toga says. Toga’s the only one other than Dabi who’s in an actual relationship, rather than a bunch of situationships, friends-with-benefits things, and hookups they block the next day. “I wasn’t desperate.”

“You’re the most desperate person I’ve ever met. But you’re a girl, so it’s cute on you,” Magne says. “It’s not cute on guys. It’s weird.”

“I don’t think it is,” Spinner says. Tomura adds Spinner and Toga to the list of people he doesn’t hate right now. “Sending a dick pic or begging for nudes would be desperate. Just saying something is – nice. I’ve never had a date text me the same night before. I wouldn’t mind.”

“In that case, your date would be a girl,” Magne points out. “Cute when girls do it. Weird when guys do. I’d know.”

Tomura lost the plot a few sentences back. “I wasn’t going to send a dick pic. I don’t even have a dick pic.”

Dabi’s fiancé wheezes. “What?”

“Okay, that’s enough!” Toga pops up off the floor. “Tomura-kun has work tomorrow and so do I – and so does Spinner – so we’re all going to go to bed.”

“We are?” Spinner asks, then yelps as Toga yanks him off the couch. “Hey!”

“That’s right,” Toga sings out. She grabs Tomura’s arm, too, and Tomura barely manages to avoid getting yanked off his feet. He stumbles down the hall after her, colliding with Spinner a few times. It’s all he can do to keep ahold of his phone.

Toga’s bedroom, Spinner’s, and Tomura’s are all along the same hallway, sharing the same bathroom. Once they’re in the hallway, Tomura plants his feet. “Why are you kidnapping me?”

“We’re not kidnapping you. Your room is right there.” Toga points, like there was any way Tomura was going to forget. He’s drunk, but not that drunk. “They were being mean. I’m happy for you. So is Spinner. Right, Spinner?”

“Like I said. A win’s a win.”

“It’s not a game.” Toga elbows him. Then she looks at Tomura. “They’re making it sound complicated and it’s not. If you like her, text her. If you don’t, don’t. Easy. Now go to bed.”

It’s not a puzzle game. It’s a yes or no question. Tomura likes that a lot better than whatever the hell the others wanted him to do. Still – “Do I need a dick pic?”

It’s quiet for at least a minute. “You know what,” Spinner says finally, “we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. I’m with Toga. Go to bed before you get yourself in trouble.”

Tomura’s tempted to tell them both that he’s doing it because he wants to, not because they’re telling him to, but then he decides not to waste the air. The sooner he goes to his room, the sooner he can send you a message without everyone bothering him about it. He shuffles back to his room, flops down on the bed – which he didn’t make this morning, because he’s just going to get back in it later – and pulls out his phone. When he taps the contact icon, the first thing he sees is the contact you set for yourself.

Your name (blind date). Tomura opens a message and gets stuck trying to think of what to say. Short is probably better. His mind is off on some weird paths right now, a lot of which have to do with you and his dick and all of which would be a lot more of a problem if he wasn’t still drunk. And none of which you need to know about. You also don’t need to know about the ambush his friends set up for him when he got home. Or the fact that Tomura’s friends only sent him on this date so he could get better at women before the trip to Vegas in two months.

That might have been why Magne set you and Tomura up, but that’s not why Tomura’s texting you. this is tomura. i want a second date. That gets the point across for sure. If you texted Tomura that he’d count it as a win, so he sends it. But Toga said it’s not a game. Spinner said it would be nice to get a text from a date. What would Tomura want you to say, if he got a text from you?

Tomura overthinks it. He overthinks it so hard that he falls asleep, and only wakes up when he drops his phone on his face. You haven’t texted back yet, but it’s only been fifteen minutes since he sent the message, and you’re probably asleep. What kind of text would Tomura want to see from you when he woke up in the morning? That you liked him. That you had fun. Maybe you’d say something funny, too. Tomura doesn’t do funny. He almost falls back asleep again, then hauls himself up to wakefulness hand over hand, sitting up in the bargain. One more message. It should be easy.

sorry I fell asleep on you is what Tomura says. He barely manages to plug in his phone before he falls asleep for good.

He wakes up to his alarm howling, right on schedule. He can hear Spinner’s alarm doing the same thing from across the hall. Tomura’s mouth tastes like he threw up in it in his sleep. He fumbles for his phone to hit snooze on the alarm, but in the split second before he does, he sees a text notification. Everybody he texts has been asleep for the last – Tomura looks at the time and groans – four hours. So who –

Tomura unlocks his phone at warp speed and taps the message icon. He remembers texting you last night, but he didn’t remember how stupid he sounded. Sorry he fell asleep on you? You’re probably texting him to fuck off. Tomura glances down at your message. His head hurts badly enough that he has to read it five or six times to process it all the way.

You gave his first text a thumbs-up, then asked what he wants to do on the second date. But you replied directly to his stupid second message. it’s okay. next time it’s my turn.

Tomura’s lips split as an uncontrollable grin crosses his face. He got four hours of sleep. He’s got a full day of work and a hangover to go with it, and the instant he sets foot in the living room, his friends are going to start up on him about how he’s handling this all wrong. But Tomura must not be handling it all that badly, because he’s got a second date, and for a few seconds, the hangover and work and everything else doesn’t matter at all.

screenshot to see what skin you got !

League of Villains - Cyberpunk outfits from My Hero Ultra Rumble

Poem by Becky Tillman

TW: dark content!!, yandere!shigaraki tomura x female reader, noncon/dubcon, implied kidnapping, degradation, humiliation, begging, anal fingering, piv, tomura is mean, mdni. wc: 2k Synopsis: Tomura thinks it’s time you learned an important lesson.

"I got something for you today."

Here he goes again, you think as you watch Shigaraki place a white plastic bag onto his desk. It’s hard to fight the roll of your eyes, but you do. He’s been in a mood lately and you don’t want to push your luck more than you have. 

It’s become routine, you and him. 

He gets too close, you tell him off. It surprises you that he actually listens and instills some kind of confidence in yourself — in your words. Maybe you have more power over the situation than you thought. 

The rustle of the bag catches your attention and you watch as he pulls out a few things. An energy drink, a small box of what looks like bandages and a small bottle of clear liquid. 

Your brows raise, interest piqued and you sit up a little straighter to see better. 

“What do you—?”

He holds the bottle up and your face scrunches in confusion. His smile is one that sends chills up your spine and you have to will yourself to stop being antsy. 

“Lube. It’s for you!” He says like it’s a birthday gift you’ve waited all year for. “You’ve been so… mouthy lately, I’ve decided to give you something to mouth off about. Won’t that be fun?” 

The question is rhetorical and you no longer fight your antsy movements. Rushing to your feet and taking a pointed step away from Shigaraki, your eyes narrow, “what are you talking about?” You’ve never had to use lube. He’s just taken what he’s wanted and your body adjusts every time — as much as you hated it. 

He places the lube back onto the desk and grabs his energy drink, cracking the can open and taking a sip of the sugary sweet soda. He was calm, patient — eerily so. 

After he’s had his fill of the drink, Shigaraki looks to you and nods his head in the direction of the bed. “Get on it.”

Your heart felt like it would pound out of your chest as you held your hands up to the man before you. “Wait, Tomura, we can—!”

“Oh?” He cuts you off, voice lifted and mockingly playful, “I’m Tomura now? But you were so comfortable calling me shigaraki.” 

He places his drink can back on the desk and fully turns toward you. “I didn’t stutter. Get on the fucking bed.” 

You knew his patience was wearing thin, but you still had to try. Taking a shaky breath, you get onto the bed, sitting down on the edge of it. 

“On your hands and knees.” 

Your blood ran cold, and you tried once more, searching your brain for any sweet words that could placate him. Desperate to find something, anything he would like to hear from you, “please—“

He’s in front of you before you can blink, large hand grabbing your face and pressing your cheeks together, “I’m done playing these games with you,” you can smell the sugar from the drink on his breath as your breathing picks up, pricks of panic lacing your body.

Shigaraki crashed his lips into yours, wasting no time slipping his tongue into your wet mouth. The taste of sweet energy drink was nauseating but you kissed back in fear of what he would do if he didn’t. You’ve exhausted all options and you knew, deep down that anything more would only make things worse. 

He pulls away, a trail of saliva following as he meets your eyes — and god, his smile. He’s giddy like a kid on Christmas and you regret every act of defiance you’ve made against him these past few weeks. 

“Cute.” Was the only word he gave before you were being manhandled onto your stomach, face in the pillows and ass in the air. 

“You know,” he muses, pressing his clothed erection to your panties, “I’m starting to think you want this. You want to see me angry so I can put you in your place.” 

He backs away to pull your underwear down in one swift movement, making you reach back to attempt to cover yourself. This only irritates him more as he grabs your wrist and pins your arm behind your back. The angle is as painful as it is uncomfortable. 

You hear him shuffling around behind you, no doubt one free hand of his own making things more difficult — and you take small pleasure in that. It’s short lived though as he seems to find what he’s looking for and you brace yourself for the inevitable. 

There’s the pop of a cap and then smooth cold liquid dripping down your backside and over your hole that makes you shiver. You feel frozen as the liquid trails lower and lower until it’s past the heat of your cunt. 

All it takes is the press of a finger to get you putting up a fight once more. there was no way he was really doing this. He’s never tried this. 

“I shouldn’t even prep you, honestly,” he mutters and you wince as one of his digits slowly push past the ring of muscle. “You’ve been so defiant. You really need to learn some manners.” 

The tears streaming from your eyes are making the pillow below you damp and cold, but you can only sniff in response. “Tomura, please—“

“Please what?” He sinks the finger deeper and you can’t hold back your yelp of pain. 

You shake your head as much as you can, “please stop! It hurts..” 

He pulls out suddenly and you think he’s actually going to listen — that he’s actually done torturing you until-

A hand swings down and slaps your ass, making you cry out. He imitates a buzzer sound before gripping the fat of your bottom, “wrong answer!” 

You thrash more as panic wells up inside when you feel the prodding of two fingers instead of one against your hole. “You know, this is supposed to be your punishment,” both won’t fit and he resorts to only letting one finger penetrate, his other hand massaging the cheek of your behind. “But I’m afraid you may like this too much.”

He is delusional. Shigaraki is the one that’s having the time of his life watching you suffer and writhe. You try to pull forward and away but the hand that was massaging your ass is now grabbing your hip and holding you in place. Your cry is loud as you feel the pressure of another finger join the first and shigaraki wastes no time pumping the digits in and out of your hole. 

You think your crying and begging falls on deaf ears — forcing you to accept the inevitable and you find yourself wishing you were anywhere else but here. You could be dropped off in the middle of the Sahara Desert during a summer heatwave and it would still be miles better than this hellhole. 

Just when you’re about to surrender to your fate and stop fighting it, shigaraki speaks again, “Since I’m so kind and understanding, I’ll give you a choice.” it’s like he sensed you were on the verge of checking out. That would just be too easy. “Which hole do you want me in? Hm? Tell me.” 

He’s gripping your hip tighter and you know there will be bruises formed but your mind could  only focus on this awful option. 

You don’t want him in either. The idea of having to tell him which way to violate you only made you nauseous. But you knew that you had to make a choice because it was always worse when he made one for you. 

“M-my..” you feel sick, swallowing your shame and squeezing your eyes shut as you continue, “I want you in my.. pussy.” 

You could practically hear the smile in Shigaraki's voice, “yeah? Beg for it.” 

He wanted to humiliate you, this was the real punishment. To build you up, give you a false sense of security only to break you down even more. He was sick. 

But you were sicker because you did exactly as you were told. 

“Tomura, please. Please fuck me.” You turned your head, as if you could hide your shame into the pillow below you, “I need you.” 

“Atta girl.” He praises, pulling his fingers out and you sigh in relief, nerves calming and shoulders relaxing. You almost melt into the sheets until you feel the pressure of shigaraki’s erection against your cunt. The lube is there and making things wetter than usual but the squeeze will still be uncomfortable. 

You look back, worry lacing your features, “wait, Tomura—“ but you don’t have a chance to finish, he pushes into you, girth stretching you and making your toes curl in an odd combination of pleasure and discomfort. 

Shigaraki lets out a sigh of relief, rocking his hips at a steady pace before leaning over you. “Fuck, that’s good.” The hand gripping your hip moves to cup your breast, tweaking the sensitive nub between his thumb and forefinger. 

This was familiar, this was easy. It was not uncharted territory and it was something you could convince yourself was okay. Normal, even.

“Mine, mine, you’re all mine” he babbles into your ear and you don’t turn away, terrified he’ll go back on his words if you do. 

His pace is picking up and you find yourself getting lost in the motions. His body rocking against yours as he changes the angle and oh—

He hits the spot inside and you can’t stop yourself from moaning out. It’s sensitive and it makes your back arch with every deep stroke. 

“Fuckin’ slut, I knew you’d like this.” He mutters, circling his thumb around your unoccupied hole, the lube making it slide with ease, before pressing into the tightness. The pain is dull and the pressure of being filled so much almost sends you over, dragging a whine from the back of your throat. 

The bed shakes from the force of Shigaraki’s thrusts and you feel heat pool in your lower abdomen. You were so close and you hated it. Hated him. But when you felt his warm hand move from your breast, down your stomach until it was splayed out over your cunt — pinkie finger lifted and middle finger brushing your clit with every thrust. 

You were beginning to feel dizzy with pleasure and your head fell onto the pillow, hands gripping the sheets below to anchor yourself as you got lost in the feelings. It was overwhelming and you couldn’t bite back your cries and Shigaraki’s thrusts became erratic, he was close too. 

All it took was one more thrust to sweep you over the edge, eyes rolling back as your thighs shook — orgasm claiming you.

“Oh, fuck.” Shigaraki breathed, stilling as his own waves of pleasure overcame him. You barely registered the pulse of his cock as he came deep inside of you. 

You both try to catch your breath, time seeming to still as you panted. Shigaraki was the first to move, you felt him pull out and pause — no doubt watching his cum drip from your cunt — before taking his place next to you on the bed. 

The quiet of the room is deafening and your eyelids feel heavy. You’re as still as a mouse, not wanting to stir and risk him starting up again, but his eyes are already closed. You almost think he’s asleep before he speaks again. 

“Next time,” he starts, stretching before sitting up, “I won’t be so kind. So you should clean up your nasty attitude.”

You nod, dread weighing down your efforts. There wouldn’t be a next time, if you could help it. Regrettably, you tremble at the thought as you realize this is the exact lesson he was trying to teach you.

Biggest same I've ever samed

I go bazoonkers whenever I see his neck and collarbones 🛐🛐🛐

His neck looks so kissable and biteable

(RAWRARAWRWAAAHHHAJQBAJNDJQNARAWR)

Chest, jaw, hands and lips too.

If he needs a dog...I can moo 🍞

This is kind of a little side comic where Deku and Shigaraki find themselves in the vestige realm of Tomura's (or Tenko's) memories during their final battle. Nothing brings a grown villain to his knees faster than a cute puppy