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hi heinous 🖤 i'd love to know your filthy thoughts about shigaraki and his kinks/fetishes 🤭 i have thoughts of my own (ahem,, piss kink) but i'd love to know what YOU think 🥰 alr i'm getting shy TOODLES

Hey you. Yeah you. Don’t get all shy now!~

Ahaaaa, Shiggy kinks. You ask the wrong person because I’m going to give some of the most obscure/disgusting answers.

But you did come lookin’ for me~

Piss

Oh my god, it’s clear as day how fucking disgusting this man’s piss is. With zero regard for his dietary needs when he’s still in his gamer-boy era, his piss is likely rancid. Not that he’s ever had the chance to get with anyone consensually, but he’s a quick study when he comes to watching such a demeaning act be performed on his weird kink sites.

The day he does manage to fucking do it, he’s absolutely giddy and making the most obnoxiously cute chuckles about it, which his poor victim date interprets as creepy. It takes him a minute to not be hard as fuck during this, standing over them and making sure he can hook his fingers into their unwilling mouth before pissing his heart out.

Fantasy fulfilled.

Ryona / Whumping

Kinda obscure. Lemme explain: Y’know what a sick fuck like Shigaraki does in his free time Besides sit in front of the computer and play LOL? It’s watch compilations of heroes in tatters.

Clothes ripping, bruises and upper cuts to the face. He’s obviously got no incentive to cheer them on, but my god does it just get him keening to watch some pretty hero be put in their place!~

But the fight clips from YouTube won’t do it for him — oh no, soon enough he’s gotten himself into a filthy rabbit hole where he’s compiling, buying, and selling the depraved medium from the darkest corners of the internet, all so he can watch and partake in kidnapping livestreams of his favorite heroes.

They’re Spat on, stepped on, kicked, and punted till they whimper like animals. Put that in tandem with yanking a cute, femme hero by her hair and ripping away her mask, and he’s busting into his hand shortly after. Yes. the revelation of their identity being exposed, their cries of humiliation through the stuffy speakers, the last of their dignity lost.

When he’s finally in his prime, beefed up and killing heroes, he just can’t help himself from fulfilling another depraved fantasy when he sees a poor, disarmed hero cradling themselves in a corner. Not safe from Tomura Shigaraki.

Worship

Tomura cares little for the affirmation of those he wanted to destroy, conquering and destroying anything that gets in his way. But the absolute last thing he ever imagined was being treated like a king, heralded as the symbol of fear.

Obviously, he’s gonna have fans. Groupies. And worse, willing playthings who’d go above and beyond to kiss the feet and hands of their beloved leader — a beautiful, hatred-riddled god.

He sits poised on a stone throne, boredom evident on his face when he’s approached time and time again by the swarms of adoring followers. They peel back his layers, adorning him in fleurs and delicate dainty trinkets — a complete juxtapose to his chapped demeanor.

The kneeling, the cultic mannerisms… the begging to be used and abused, having women, men and anyone in between plead for him to grace then with helpings his rich cum — breed them. The way his groveling followers do the most humiliating things for him, whatever he asks. Anything.

He eats that shit up, and it gets him living out that power fantasy he’d always wanted.

“So this is what winning a war feels like?”

“Tomura, your royal penis is clean—“

He always did value loyalty and chivalry.

The Potential of You and Me [Yandere Shigaraki x Reader]

Title: The Potential of You and Me [Yandere Shigaraki x Reader]

Synopsis: You have a stalker. And he's tired of waiting for you.  Commissioned piece.

Word Count: 5100ish

notes: yandere, stalking, threats, noncon oral sex, humiliation and degradation

Every box packed is sealed with a mixture of bitterness and relief, all stacked high in increasingly precarious towers; filling the dark corners of your longstanding home with cardboard and hastily made tape labels that you hope won’t peel off in the moving truck. 

It makes you sick to see them. It makes you scared. It makes you sad. 

It might be different, if you were leaving under different circumstances. If you’d gotten a job in a new city and you were starting over with a fresh coat of paint, or something like that. Something you could spin into sweetness and adventure. 

If only.

If only you weren’t moving because you had a stalker and this was the only palatable option left. The police couldn’t do anything--there was no tangible evidence, no matter how many times you insisted things were missing. 

It turns out that “I can feel someone’s eyes on me” and a letter detailing how much they loved you and how good you were going to feel on the inside was not, in the eyes of the authorities, enough to really do anything. Change your locks, they said. You did. Switch up your routine, they said.  You did.

It didn’t matter. Things kept going missing. You kept feeling watched. You came home and found your bedroom window open and another letter on your pillow that you tossed out without reading. 

It wasn’t going to stop, with or without the advice of the police. And you couldn’t do anything to protect yourself, not on your own. You didn’t even have a damn quirk. 

So what can you do? You can pack up your life and find a cheap apartment in another city, where you don’t know anyone, where you don’t have a job, where you’ll be in a place half this size and nowhere near as nice.

You can throw away everything you’ve ever known and pretend that things are going to be fine. 

This is what you’ve been reduced to--but it’s this or your life, isn’t it? Your sanity? You don’t know how much more you can take or how long it will be before your stalker takes a step beyond stealing your underwear or sending you notes. 

What if your stalker decides to go further than leaving letters and taking panties? What if he decides to hurt you--or kill you? You were no stranger to the nightly news, to stories of women found killed and dismembered by men found to be stalking them. 

You had a life to live. Even if you have to live it somewhere else, if you want to be safe. 

You slap another label on a box filled with books (and God, you had too many books, didn’t you? But you couldn’t bear to part with them, stalker be damned) and wiped a trickle of sweat beading on the back of your neck. This would have to do for tonight. The moving truck was coming in 2 days, and you’d been living on little sleep, tons of coffee, and far too much takeout.

You needed a break. Just a little one. Just some sleep, to feel refreshed, before you spend another whole day packing and shoveling food someone else made into your mouth as quickly as you could before you went back to it.

You’re in the bathroom--still not packed, but you’d been putting it off for the end--when you hear the noise.

Something small. A creak. A noise that you would have brushed off a few months ago as nothing. 

But now it sends a twist straight into your gut. You freeze, turn off the sink, and spit foamy toothpaste carelessly into the basin. Your fingers shake and your toothbrush clatters into the sink, too loud, too overt. Fuck.

Your hands clench the end of the counter and you strain sideways, forcing yourself to listen.

Nothing… nothing. Maybe you are being paranoid. Maybe it’s best that you’re moving away, if even the slightest noise had you on edge--

But, oh. 

Oh.

You hear it again.

A creak--but it’s not just a creak, is it? 

It’s a step.

Down the hall. Something is in the hallway. No, not something, because something wouldn’t be wearing shoes that make an unmistakable sound when connecting with the floorboards.

Someone is in the hall. 

Someone is coming for you.

Your body seems to move on autopilot, quick, numb. 

One step, two step. 

You hear the hallway closet door opening. Nothing inside but boxes. 

Another step, and another. 

The guest room door opens. More boxes, and piles of stuff you planned to take to the donation center tomorrow. 

Step, step. Step. 

The hallway isn’t long enough, oh God, how you wish it was longer.

Because all too soon, the steps stop at your bedroom door and there’s an awful scratching sound, like someone is dragging fingernails down the wood. 

The terrible reality of that sound makes your body jolt back to life. You’re just standing there! You stupid, stupid moron. You have to do something. 

Your buzzing mind races, what are you supposed to do? Call the police! But your phone is on your bed, sitting idly on top of the bare mattress where you left it earlier. There’s not enough time. It’s too far away. You’ll get caught, mid-lunge, and your trembling fingers will probably drop the phone anyway.

So you, legs tingling with fear that seems to both paralyze and push you, rush into your doorless closet and stand inside next to the open doorway. 

You’ve already packed your closet up, so there’s nothing to hide behind, no layers of clothing to shield you. Only the darkness of the bedroom that you hope is enough to hide you. 

The door opens with a foreboding creaking that makes your chest hurt. Slow and methodical, like whoever it is is fucking with you on purpose.

You cover your mouth and nose and will yourself not to breathe. 

Someone steps into the room and you curse yourself for not turning off the bathroom light. But the closet should still be dark enough, right? You pray for that, mindlessly.

Whoever it is--it’s a man, you realize, with lanky silver hair, but you can’t see his face--glances toward the bathroom. 

He takes a step, then pauses.

Don’t come to the closet. Don’t come to the closet. Don’t come to the closet. It’s a mantra, a prayer, rushing through your brain as you will him to inspect the bathroom. 

Maybe someone up there likes you, because he does take slow steps toward the bathroom and you wait until he’s in the threshold (where he’ll no doubt see the room is empty) before you bolt from the closet, arm slapping carelessly against the door frame (it hurts) before you rush through the doorway of your room and into the hallway.

Everything is dark and dim. You were going to bed, now you’re running for your life. 

You register only sounds and vague physical feelings that puncture through the veil of your terror. The slap of your bare feet against the floor. The sound of the clock in the kitchen. The scratch against your elbow from one of the cardboard boxes as you run towards the front door, a sharp corner digging into your skin. 

And then you hear the slow, calm steps that come from behind you, almost matching the ticking of the kitchen clock in their lack of urgency.

Your fingers pull on the doorknob and nothing happens. Your palm grips it, twisting this way and that, turning the lock open and shut and open and shut. But it doesn’t open, no matter what you do, what you turn. A soft, helpless sound pushes its way out of your throat.

And then you look up and see something jammed into the top of the doorway, like it’s been stuck on there. A barrier? A lock? You have to get it off, and you go to stand on your tiptoes when a voice behind you sends every nerve in your skin tingling.

“You’re not very good at this, are you?”

Your bowels clench and your hands shake as they slap against the door and you turn your body around to face the man who broke into your home.

The light is dim, lit only by some streetlights streaming through the window and the tiny light above your stove in the kitchen. His hair is the easiest thing to see about him, light colored. His clothing is dark. His face is hidden in shadows.

“Please don’t hurt me,” you whisper, keeping your back pressed against the door. If only you had a quirk that would let you melt through walls or blast open locks or do something, anything, to help yourself.

The man tilts his head, and there’s a dim recollection in your mind at the gesture. It’s like something out of a movie. Or a video game. Is this a game to him? Some twisted entertainment? 

“No?” His voice has something of a gravel to it, like he needs to clear his throat. But there’s a smoothness underneath it all, too--a teasing lilt that worries you to the core. “Why shouldn’t I?”

“I--” You lick your lips, and your shoulders shake like you’ve been left in the cold for too long. “I don’t want to die.”

“Oh,” he says, and there’s a snicker at the edge of his voice that promises to cross over should you amuse him too much. “Of course you don’t.”

Your hand stupidly reaches behind you and pulls at the door again. All it does is make a shifting sound as it slips uselessly through your fingers. You aren’t going anywhere. At least not through the front door. But the windows… 

You stand up straighter, trying to center yourself, trying to calm down.

“What… what do you want? I-I have some money, but not much. I’m moving, so--”

He scoffs. You can’t see his expression, exactly, but you get the impression that he’s narrowed his eyes. That he’s annoyed with your suggestion for some reason  you can’t fathom. 

“I don’t want your money.”

It’s a stupid question to ask, but you ask it anyway.

“Then…what do you want?”

He sighs, and that snicker is there, all dark and teasing. It makes your chest hurt more. And then you watch, entranced, as he reaches into his pocket and pulls something out.  A handkerchief? Or a piece of lace? It’s light blue and colorful and--

Fucking hell. 

It’s a pair of your underwear. A cute pair you’d picked out on a whim last year. And… he’s holding it in his hands, fingers drumming in the air, almost toying with the fabric as you stare. This pair went missing, didn’t it? Then how--

“I came to give this back. Aren’t I generous?”

“Give it… back?” The words come out in quiet disbelief and everything clicks in your head, like a lock snapping shut on something you should have realized long ago.

He’s holding a pair of your underwear.

He’s broken into your home. 

He’s your stalker.

“You’re--my…” You can’t bring yourself to bring the word into reality. “And you’ve been…” Your back presses harder against the door, as if you might just conjure up that wall-busting quirk through sheer will alone. 

“Please leave!” You’re almost shocked at how high and loud your voice is, despite the way your body trembles. You lick your dry lips again, and words come tumbling out. Something, anything, to make him go away. “I’ve already called the police. So-so they’re on their way and if you don’t leave, they’ll--”

“Don’t lie.” 

Your mouth stops mid-ramble. 

“I’m… I’m not lying. I really did, I--”

His hand dips into his other pocket and he pulls out your phone, shaking it slightly at you, like presenting evidence of misbehavior to a wayward child. One of his fingers is sticking out to the side. It’s strange, but--

“Unlock it,” he says, holding the screen out flat and there’s no room for argument in his voice. Nor are you stupid enough to try to grab the phone from him. You place a shaking finger on top, and the screen lights up, revealing your latest background--some silly photo your friend sent you a few months ago. 

He begins to run his thumb down your screen, until you see that he’s bringing up your recent calls. 

“Moving company… takeout…” He smiles, but in the darkness, it looks more like a sneer. “No police.” 

You swallow, throat dry. He splays his fingers out suddenly, keeping his thumb wrapped around the screen. He places one finger down. Two fingers. Three, four, five.

And your phone crumbles to dust.

Your bowels clench hard, and you push back against the door.

“Please,” you whisper, throat dry, mouth trembling.

He takes a step closer. You can look at nothing but his fingers. Even in the dimness, you can see a fine layer of dust on them.  Your phone. Your phone, there and gone, nothing but ashes. And now he’s taking a step closer to you, reaching out with his hand. 

You make a sound, something soft and primal in what you believe are your last moments, but instead of agonizing pain and nothingness, you feel only a single finger on  your cheek. You blink, and the tears held back by your imminent death fall easily. His finger makes a lazy swipe up your cheek, catching the tear.

“I like that. Keep saying that, okay?”

“Please?” There’s disbelief in your voice, yes, but hope, too. Hope that you can get out of this alive.

He makes a low sound, like a hum. 

“Please… don’t hurt me.” 

He pulls his finger away and looks at you. Now that he’s closer, you can see a bit more of his features. Or at least, you can make out the smile he gives you. It’s not a comforting smile.

“I won’t hurt you, if you’re good. Now…” He takes a step backward. “Turn around for me. Face the door.”

You don’t want to. More than anything, you don’t want to listen to him. But you have to, at least for right now, if you want to live. So you force your stiff, leaden muscles to work and face the traitorous door that won’t open for you anymore.

“Good,” he says, with a note of something like pleasantness. “Now stay nice and still while I tie your wrists.” 

You do wait. You wait until you hear him unzipping the bag slung around his shoulders, and then you bolt on tingling muscles, pounding down the hallway and whipping back into your bedroom. You can’t call the police, but you sure as shit can jump from your bedroom window.

Your thighs are up against the bottom of your bed--you just have to climb on and get over your headboard to the window behind it, so close, so close--when you feel hands on your back, pressure, and all of the air goes out of your lungs as something big and heavy tackles you and pins you to the bed.

Your mouth opens, and you’ve finally gotten the idea to scream--only for four fingers to slap over your mouth in an instant. There’s dust on them. Like bitter salt. 

“Quiet.” The word is practically hissed into your ear, and all thoughts of making a sound cease. But you don’t give in, not yet, because you’ve read your true crime books and watched your horror movies, and you know what happens to people who get pinned to beds by stalkers who break into their homes. It can’t happen to you. It can’t. 

He grips your shoulders with one hand and flips you onto your back. He slowly releases the hand over your mouth, because you’re smart enough to stay quiet, aren’t you? Especially when those fingers could come down (one, two, three, four, five) and kill you in an instant.

You’re quiet. But you won’t give in without some fight. You move to sit up, free hands pushing against his check--do you really think you’re stronger?--and his breath hitches above you as he grips your wrists and pushes forward, pinning you to the bed.

Your teeth clack together when your head hits the mattress, and against your better judgment, you continue to buck and squirm, pulling at the wrists keeping you on the bed. He’s too strong. You don’t even make it an inch. And the sheer helplessness of it all turns to worms in your stomach, cold and slithering. 

But you don’t stop trying, and your breath comes in heaves as soft, timid sounds of daydreamed escape push past your lips. If you could just get a wrist free. If you could just get a leg free. If you could just get him off you.

Thoughts come and go without staying concrete. Maybe a hero was walking by your bedroom window just now and he heard the tousling and he’s going to break the window and save you. Maybe the police decided to do something and send a patrol car to your home. Like gray daydreams, these fuzzy hopes of rescue.

Instead, there is a man above you, pinning you down with nothing but his strength and if he wanted to, he could turn you to dust for being too difficult. 

But you don’t turn to dust. Instead he’s looking down at you, leaning forward so his hair tickles your face. You can make out his features now, tired, lined, crazed. He scares you in a way you can’t articulate. There’s something deeply, terribly sad and--wrong--about him.

“I should punish you a little.” His words feel sour, breathed onto your face. “But… I can’t stay mad at you…” He leans forward until his nose is absurdly pressed against your cheek, nuzzling your skin, even as you turn your head in an attempt to lessen the contact. “Not when I’m finally ready to take you home.”

The word is a vice, and it’s like all the strength gets sapped out of you at once. 

“Home?” 

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he tugs at your wrists until they’re resting on top of your stomach, and he takes one hand and holds both of your wrists firm. 

“Don’t be stupid.”

You aren’t. Your skin feels numb from fear, but you keep your wrists still as he leans backward and opens the bag hanging from his shoulders. He pulls out some restraints made from some type of cloth, and wraps them around your wrists one after the other. There’s a center strap in the middle of them, which he yanks high, pulling at your arms, until they’re above your head. The headboard--he’s tied the strap to the headboard.

"There. Nice and snug." He seems pleased, and that scares you more than any of his threats or the dust still clinging to his fingertips. You don’t want him to sound so pleased, not when you’re here, in the dark, tied to your bed.

Your words taste bitter as you force them out of your drying mouth. 

“What are you going to do?” You want to know. You don’t want to know. You want it over with--you don't want him to start. You flex your fingers, but your bound wrists aren’t going anywhere. 

He leans forward, and there’s something sickly sweet on his face. A grin--a grin that is not very nice at all. 

“What am I going to do?” he says, voice higher, frightened. Mimicking your fear. His hand reaches for your face and you flinch, but all he does is trail two fingers on your cheek, winding down until they rest on your lips.

“Open up.”

You do, because what other choice do you have? In an instant he shoves the fingers inside, and you gag on dust and salty skin. He pushes them too forward and you retch.

“Oops.” He giggles. It’s a breathy sound, not at all sweet. “Lick them, okay?” 

Your eyes widen. You want to ask him why, but the thought of making any muffled sound around his fingers makes you sicker than the grittiness currently in your mouth.

“It’s for your own good,” he says, with an almost teasing lilt to his voice. “I promise.”

You don’t trust any of his promises. But you do trust the taste of the dust in your mouth, a forewarning of what might happen to you if you don’t listen.

Slowly, you force the muscle of your tongue to start licking his fingers. It’s a short motion--you want as little contact with his fingers as possible. You have to fight back that way, at least, don’t you? Even if it makes him mad.

But it doesn’t make him mad. He coos, if anything. “Oh, you’re like a kitten.” The words are gross and stick inside your chest, and you can’t ignore the tears threatening to spill onto your cheeks. But you keep licking.

Done, or maybe just bored, he pulls them out and wipes an excess line of connecting drool onto your cheek. “Good enough.”

For what?

Without warning, he reaches lower and yanks down your pajama bottoms. You can hear the elastic rip from the force, and the soft fabric bunches up around your knees. 

Whatever part of you that had resolved to be good and quiet dissolves in primal fear, and you shriek--perhaps there’s words in there (Don’t, please, oh--)--but they die the instant he holds up his hands, and is there where you die, too? 

But he doesn’t bring his hand down. 

Instead, he digs down into his pockets and you only have the briefest moment to register that he’s holding the panties from earlier, the ones he stole from this very bedroom, before they’re shoved into your mouth. The fabric tastes stale and there’s brief pulses of horror (what was he doing with them all this time?) before you try to push at all the bunched up fabric with your tongue, desperate to get it out. 

He regards you with a smile, and there’s something so low in it, degrading and dark. 

“Keep them in there. Unless you want the neighbors to hear?” Then he pats your cheek with a few fingers. “If you spit them out, I’ll just gag you with something bigger.”

You don’t want to know what that would be. What remains of your whimpers are muffled around your underwear as he scoots backward and grips your thighs. He pulls them apart without a word and your legs tremble. You could kick, couldn’t you? You could fight and kick and even if your hands are tied, you could.

But you don’t want him to hurt you. You don’t want to die. You want this to be over with. You want him to do what he’s going to do and leave and you’ll call the moving company in the morning and ask if they can pick up your things today. Or you’ll run out the door with only your essentials, and a favorite book or two, a memento--your mom’s necklace, a trinket or two--and… and things will turn out all right.

They have to.

So all you do is keep up your pitiful little whimpers as he rips your underwear off and tosses the destroyed garment on the floor. The coolness from the exposure makes you tremble. Or maybe that’s the fear, and the realization that he’s going to touch you.

He hooks one arm under your thigh and keeps it pulled to the side, giving him easier access to the .

You feel them, then. His fingers. Warm and a bit gritty. Touching you, stroking you, playing with you carelessly like someone who is happy to explore something for the first time. There’s no real consistency to the way he touches you. He pulls apart your pussy lips and prods inside. You jump. He runs his fingers up and down the middle of your slit. 

It doesn’t feel good. But it doesn’t hurt (that’s something) and maybe he won’t hurt you, after all? Not that you want it, not that you would rather be anywhere else right now (I won’t complain about my new city, you think, not the rent or the public transportation or the new neighbors. I’ll be so good and so grateful if this is over with quickly and he leaves.)

And then his finger is touching gently at your clit. It’s too sudden. Your hips jerk and a sound is stifled by your gag. He watches you and pulls his finger back a bit, instead touching around your clit, ghosting it, a much more tolerable (and sickening) feeling. He’s gentle, almost, and it hurts to contrast it with everything else. 

You think about how many of your personal things have gone missing. The letters he’s left you flash in your mind. He can’t stop thinking about you. He wants to know you. He-needs-you-he-wants-you-he-will-have-you. And then… then you think about your phone crumbling to dust and what would it look like, if he did that to your skin?

You don’t want this. This can’t be happening. But it is, and there’s no way to escape the reality of the situation with his body so close to yours--with your hands tied firmly to the headboard. 

You feel the trail of slick on his fingers before you see it, just as he pulls his fingers away. It’s a bodily reaction, nothing more than that. But it doesn’t lessen the humiliation and the terror, and the panty gag in your mouth is soaked with drool and salty tears that have dripped in from between your lips.

“I was going to wait until we got back,” he murmurs. “But…” He almost looks wistful, and there’s a small, childish smile on his face. “You feel so much better in person than I imagined. You know that?” You see him working his bottom lip under his teeth--is that where his scabs are from? “Fuck it.”

All you register is him swooping down and the quick bob of his head before you feel it--his tongue between your pussy lips. It’s startling, and you gasp around your stolen underwear as the warm muscle goes from awkward prods to gently lapping around your clit, just touching the edges of it with enough firmness to send your nerves singing. 

You mewl. You can’t help it. It’s a sinful feeling, delicious and abhorrent. It’s a wet warmth that keeps going, lapping and lapping, making all of your nerves go haywire. Your legs kick on their own, and the thigh kept in his grip trembles.

He pulls back just enough to talk, and you wish he wouldn’t.

“Are you close already? You’re going to be so much fun…” 

He’s back between your legs then, and you feel one finger carelessly toying with your entrance. You clench, but he doesn’t go inside. Instead he presses his mouth back against you, and there’s warmth both from his mouth and your own body, flushing as he forces pleasure to start shooting down your stomach straight to those blissful nerves between your legs.

You moan into your gag, and he moans back. Everything feels sloppy and wet as his tongue begins to lap back and forth, harder, pressing firmer against your clit until you feel it coming--electric and tingling and unwanted, all the same. Your orgasm hits as you shake your head--no no no no--and your legs twitch until the orgasm fades.

All you’re left with is aftershocks and shame.

He maneuvers himself until he’s almost chest to chest with you. His pants press against your exposed lower half, and you can feel your dampness mingling with the fabric of his trousers. And there’s… something else you feel, too.

He’s hard.

You choke back a sob into your gag. You imagine what he’ll do now. He’ll pull down his own pants and he’ll spread your legs again, and you’ll feel him and it will be even more invasive and--

Your breath comes faster now, and you almost wish you were still gagged, so that the sound of  your frightened heaves weren’t so open and ragged. 

It seems like he understands what you’re thinking. 

“You can pay me back some other time, okay?” A finger traces up your neck to your mouth, and he sticks his fingers between your lips and pulls out the now damp panties without a word. “You’re probably tired, huh? I’ll take you back, then.” He says this all so casually and it makes it harder for the words to soak in at first. 

And when they do it, it stings just as badly. 

The sounds that were muffled by your gag now seem to echo around the mostly-empty, packed room. Sniffling. Little choked sobs that shake your chest. Because if he wants you to pay him back, is he going to let you go? If he’s planning on taking you somewhere, will he ever bring you back home? 

How could you call that moving truck anyway, if your phone is dust? 

Where can you run to, if your stalker can kill people with a touch? 

What can you do, except beg for something you know won’t be happening? 

“Please,” you whisper. Quick. Erratic.  “I won’t tell anyone. Just let me go, and I won’t tell.” 

His smile twists into something that’s almost like pity. But there’s something deeper in it. Sharp and bitter. “Hush, hush.” His knuckles reach up and wipe at your tears. “You’ll get used to it. I know you will.” He pats your cheek twice. “I’m…” He seems to consider something. “Call me Tomura. Only that.”

You don’t respond. You don’t want to call him anything. 

Without fanfare, he sits back up on the bed and reaches into his pocket to pull out a phone. His phone, you assume. There’s only a few swipes before he’s putting it up to his ear and talking to some unknown recipient. 

“Hey.” He looks at you and pets your hair. Is it meant to be soothing? Patronizing? Both? “Yeah, we’re ready.”

Without warning, there’s a heavy feeling before blackness fills the room. Your eyes widen like saucers but he doesn’t explain--he doesn’t need to, you know this is not going to be good. 

You could beg. You could spend the next few seconds promising that you’ll do anything if he just leaves you alone. But whatever words might force themselves out of your trembling lips are stuck inside your chest, like so many other things. Thoughts of the apartment waiting for you in a new city. The movers that will call and call and never get an answer from you. Friends and family who are waiting to go out for one-last-big-lunch to send you off.

He unhooks your wrists from the headboard and hoists you over his shoulder, giving you a perfect view of your bedroom as he takes steps into the heavy black swirl that appeared out of nowhere.

Behind you, the doorway of the unpacked bathroom is still open, lit up, showing the contents of your life in full display.

Ungrateful

Yandere!Tomura Shigaraki x afab!Reader CW: yandere, kidnapping, heavily implied depression, angsty, nonconsensual sex, pain

NSFW - MDI

---

Plush duvet under your back, limbs sprawled over the bed, you continue listlessly staring at the blank ceiling. Ambient music plays in the background, accompanied by Tomura's heavy breaths and barely audible clicks of his controller's buttons. Occasionally, you were graced with frustrated curses or insults. Watching him play had grown tiring long ago, not that the ceiling was any more interesting. In a previous time, you played together, but even video games required more energy and motivation than you possessed now.

A strangled, annoyed groan pulled your gaze instinctively, allowing you to see him carelessly discard his controller before standing up, bones cracking loudly, and turning to you, scowling. Dread settles itself in your stomach as he approaches you. Ironic; he used to make you so happy, but it seemed the more lethargic you grew, the more aggressive he became. He looks you over, displeased. “Move over." Gathering the little energy you had, you collect your limbs and shuffle over to make room for him. He flops down next to you, bouncing you both slightly. His gaze burns into you, unimpressed with the distant look in your tired eyes. He gunts, deciding to finally address your condition after days, if not weeks, of refusing to confront the change in your attitude and behaviour. “Why are you like this?" Not answering will only anger him, so you push yourself through your exhaustion to reply, not bothering to properly pronounce your words. “… Ev'rythin' seems poin'less… barely feel anythin' anymore." Discontent with your answer, his brows furrow before a predatory grin breaks across his face and he sits up to leer over you. “You wanna feel somethin, huh? Wanna do something with a purpose?"

His gaze is malicious as a hand touches your t-shirt, disintegrating it. Without it, his skin is clammy and rough against yours. Braless, as the only clothes he gave you were t-shirts and shorts, you are exposed to his greedy eyes. Disgusted, you look away as his hand grabs your chest. Since your imprisonment, you had suspicions he would do this, but you ignored them, wanting to hold onto the memory of him as your friend, even if he had acted questionably.

Longing for the past, you are dragged from your thoughts by a harsh squeeze to your breast as he slings a leg over your hips, looming over you. Glancing at his face, his expression is almost ecstatic, causing a chill to ripple down your spine. Dropping his head, Tomura licks a long, slimy stripe along your neck, prompting you to cringe. He shows no indication of noticing, much less caring. Instead, he roughly grabs your face with his free hand, cementing you in place as he plants his chapped lips against yours, immediately trying to force his tongue into your mouth. He succeeds when you gasp in pain due to his fingers digging mercilessly into the plush of your chest. Repulsed, desperate to remove his tongue from your throat, you wish you had the will to fight back. Not that it would help much, he would simply overpower you. Shame and regret weigh heavy on your heart.

Tomura starts grinding his hips down into you, adding to your revulsion. Pulling away, he lets go of your face, and you relish the absence of his tongue, until he shifts to kneeling over you and touches your shorts, rendering you naked. “Turn over." His voice is raspy and commanding, and despite the implications of his request, you obey, grateful you no longer have to face him. His weight leaves the bed momentarily, but returns quickly as he hastily pushes your legs far enough apart to place himself between them, then he descends upon you again; slobbering and panting against your neck as his hips shallowly hump your ass, chest laying on your back. Horrified, you realise he is bare, save for his boxers; the thin layer of fabric the only barrier between his thick cock and your vulnerable butt. Both his arms snake under you; one hand entertains itself by once more ruthlessly groping your chest while his other hand travels between your thighs, inexperienced fingers flumbling as they explore. Stomach turning, you feel nauseous. Reaching your pussy, his fingers find no evidence of arousal, causing Tomura to grunt, annoyed. “What, you don't want me? Get wet, or it's gonna hurt us both." He's frowning, and his breath irritates your ear.

Continuing to unskillfully prod and poke around, he finally grazes your clit, making you jolt and him grin, entirely too proud of himself. Harshly pressing the tough pads of his fingers against the bundle of nerves, paired with the movement caused by his depraved grinding, and pawing at your chest, forces your body to respond, involuntarily readying yourself for him. Overcome with panic, at long last, you gain the will to protest, voice shaky as tears threaten to form. “Tomura, pleas' stop, I don' wan' this…!" “Shut up, you fuckin' ingrate," he sounds offended, an edge to his words. “I'm doing this for you; make you feel something good, give you some meaning. Be more thankful." Fueled by anger, or perhaps impatience, he kneels behind you and rids himself of his boxers before grabbing your hips with both his hands, lifting you up onto your knees while your upper body remains on the bed, hiding your face as your eyes brimmed with tears.

After lining himself up, he pushes into your cunt, his cock hot and far too big for how little prepared you are. In response to the splitting pain, you cry out; it almost feels like he's tearing you apart. Seemingly, your whines only serve to excite him, as his pants deepen and he thrusts harder into you, desperate to bottom out. When he does, his dick poking painfully at your cervix, you're sobbing, and grabbing at the sheets in agony. You're almost definitely bleeding. “Fuck, you're so tight…!" His voice is strained, and as he finishes speaking, a cool liquid lands on your back. Nausea flares up as you realise he's drooling on you. Allowing you only a moment to adjust, he begins moving too soon, evoking more cries and muffled screams. Mercifully, one of his hands relocates your clit, rubbing it in tight circles. Pleasure helps distract you from the horrible ache, and slowly causes your pussy to get wetter, until eventually you're slick enough that Tomura's thrusts speed up, and your sobs gradually morph into small, shameful moans.

Without looking, you know he's smirking, even through his groans and curses. Every time he opens his mouth, more drool falls onto you, but you're too clouded by forced pleasure to pay much attention anymore. Unprompted, Tomura leans down, pressing against your back, returning his mouth to your neck, heavy pants loud in your ear, and the hand that had been keeping your hips in place slid under you, once again desperately squeezing your chest. From the new angle, he managed to hit somewhere that showed you stars, causing you to clench around him, in turn making him grunt, drool over your neck, and start to jackrabbit into you. Repeatedly pounding your sweet spot while continuously circling your clit, the white-hot coil that had built up inside you snaps, making your cunt tighten around his cock, involuntarily moaning loudly as you come. Fucking you through your orgasm, Tomura follows you soon after, mumbling nonsense in your ear while saliva floods from his mouth. Horror fills you as he does, disgusted, ashamed, and regretful. He stays inside you, regaining his breath. “Don't you feel so much better now?" He brushes his wet lips against your cheek, nearly lovingly, before he pushes you down from your knees, lying on top of you until he rolls the both of you onto your sides, holding you from behind. He still doesn't pull out.

Cruelly, feelings are abundant now.

Nsfw drawing

Just a naked shiggy 👌

internet boy.

shigaraki x reader one-shot

Summary: You are on a popular video chat website late at night. After many disconnects, you come across a dusty-blue haired boy. You wait for him to say “show your tits” to skip him, but strangely enough he didn’t say anything. To this, you become intrigued, and stay to chat with him.

Warnings: swearing, slight yandere tendencies.

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x Reader

Word Count: 4680

You yawn. You check the time on the corner of your laptops’ screen. 2 AM. Why weren’t you sleeping? Well, you were on Omegle for almost two hours, and you didn’t realize how fast the time flew by. You were bored and couldn’t sleep, so you chose to talk to strangers online who were also up late at night. Maybe you were the strange one.

You haven’t gone on Omegle for a long time, so you forgot about all the dick showing and the dudes asking to either show your tits or your ass. If you didn’t comply they’d call you a bitch and disconnect. Sometimes if you got lucky, you connected with someone sweet and you’d chat a bit until they needed to go. At least there were still some people who just wanted to talk.

You sighed as you disconnected from another penis on your screen.

If I see another dick one more time, I’m getting off.

You tapped your fingers on your laptop, waiting for someone to connect.

And someone did. It was an odd looking guy. He had shaggy light blue hair and deep, red eyes that you could hardly see. He had a tightened black hoodie, so you couldn’t see his full face; only his eyes and nose. He was leaning against a white wall behind him, and his camera only showed his torso and up. The only light was from his own screen, illuminating his face.

You furrowed a brow. He didn’t say anything, so you started typing.

You: hey

You notice his eyes move to the chat, and down to his keyboard. He started typing, and you heard the sound of the keyboard clicking. So he did have a microphone.

Stranger: what’s your name

You: (Y/N). what’s urs?

At this point, you expected him to ask something vulgar, so you hovered your mouse over the “Really?” button to disconnect if he did. But shockingly enough, didn’t.

Stranger: uh. you can call me Tom.

You smiled a bit. You found the name “Tom” funny considering the fact that maybe he was using a fake name, and to add onto your suspicion he added an “uh” in the beginning.

You: cool. i hear that u have a mic. do u wanna talk? i’m too tired to type lol

You: or do u have to be quiet because of your parents loll

You watch him read the chat, and hear a “tch” noise come out of his mouth before he aggressively starts typing.

Stranger: i can talk. but you aren’t talking, so i’m not talking. wouldn’t it be weird if i was the only one talking? weirdo.

You huff and roll your eyes. “The whole point of me asking if you want to talk is so we could talk instead of texting each other. Watch who you call a weirdo, weirdo.” You retorted. He furrowed his brows and rolled his eyes back.

“Whatever. Anyways, what time is it for you?” He asked. You noticed his voice was slightly gravelly. You squint your eyes. “Aren’t you a curious one. With the blunt questions and everything. It’s 2 at night here. You?” You smile slightly. “It’s 2 am here too. Why are you up so late?” He plays with the strings attached to his hoodie.

You sigh. “Dunno. I’m tired but can’t sleep. Why are you up so late?” You ask back. He makes his hand through his hair and hoodie and scratches his neck. “Well, I’ve been thinking about stuff, so I can’t sleep either.” You hum in response, and there’s a minute of silence between you two.

“Well, what’s on your mind then?” You ask, trying to break the awkward tension.

He grumbles. “It’s nothing. Just have a few people that I don’t like on my mind. No, hate. Deeply hate. They are terrible.” He growls, and continues scratching his neck. You frown and look at him. “Hey, don’t worry about them okay? Don’t let bullies effect you and how you feel. They’re dumb.” You comforted. You felt a bit weird comforting a person you just met online about bullies, but you really did feel sympathy for him. He probably has a hard time with them.

He looks away and nods slowly. “Yeah.. bullies..” He stops scratching his neck and puts his hand down. He looks back at the camera. “Do you have anything we can talk on?”

You giggle. “We’re talking on something already, idiot.” To that, he just looks at the screen with an annoyed look. “I’m just playing. Here’s my instagram. Or, if you prefer-“

“Instagram is fine.” He cuts you off, seconds after pulling out his phone and searching up the username you put in the chat. You pressed your lips together, and pull out your phone yourself.

tomxrxow.s has requested to follow you!

“So, Tom.. your name is an abbreviation of Tomorrow?” You ask, quietly chuckling as you accept the follow request. “Uh, sure.” He mumbled. You requested to follow him back, and in an instant he accepted. You notice he has no posts and the only people he follows is a few pro heroes and you. He only has about 20 followers too. You found it slightly uncomfortable, considering that you had a few posts of you and a couple hundred followers. You look back at the screen and see him holding his phone up and moving it to look at you.

“Hm, you’re kind of weird looking right now compared to your posts.” He shows one of your posts of you in a restaurant. You looked pretty in that photo, until you realized that he insulted you. You gasped and furrowed your brows. “Hey!” You pouted. He smirked and put his phone down. “I’m just ‘playing.’” He says, quoting you from earlier. You squint your eyes and scoff, but silently smile to yourself. You like this guy.

“Well, you got my instagram, so we could chat more. I’m feeling kind of tired, so I’ll text you tomorrow morning okay?” You smile. He sighs through his nose. “Alright, good night.” He puts up a backwards peace sign. “Don’t let the villains bite.” You roll your eyes, and to that, you disconnect and shut your laptop.

What a strange guy.

You lay down and close your eyes, and soon enough you drift to sleep.

—

You stir your cereal, waiting for Tom to finish typing.

You and him have gotten close the past 3 weeks. He was quite nice to talk to. He talked about his problems, and you talk about yours. I think it’s safe to say that you guys were great friends, and were there for each other. Not in real life, but through each other’s screen. And you were okay with that.

txmxrxow.s: i haven’t got much sleep last night.

You: ahh well you should go to sleep earlier today!

You smile to yourself. You and Tom stood up late at night talking. Sometimes you guys would call, sometimes you guys chose to just text. In the beginning of your friendship with him, you guys first went from talking for an hour, to a few hours, to the whole night. You found him interesting. The way he talked, what he talked about.. he was just nice to talk to.

txmxrxow.s: but i want to talk to youu :’(

Your heart fluttered as you read his text message. You smile goofily.

You: and i want to talk to you too! but if you don’t go to sleep early then you might just fall asleep while we’re talking, and i’ll get worried that you’re not responding. how about this, we can talk all day today and you can go to sleep tonight so we could talk tomorrow. deal?

You sigh happily. You haven’t had someone to talk to this much in a long time. The world is in a middle of a pandemic; it’s not like you can go out and hang out with your friends when everyone is in quarantine. You walk to your living room with the bowl of cereal in your hand and put it on the coffee table. You sit down on your couch, and turn on the TV. You put a spoonful of cereal in your mouth and lean back to watch what the news is for today.

“Breaking news. The League of Villains attacked the city unexpectedly last night! Heroes came late due to the fact that it was at 4 am. But thankfully, we can never not trust our strong heroes! They were close to defeat, but they struck back with all their might, leaving the villains running away! Thank you for your service Pro-Heroes, for keeping us and the city safe!”

The T.V showed footage from a helicopter above of the villains running away into a dark alley. They all disappear as they enter a purple portal one of the villains created. The camera then showed the pro heroes panting in exhaustion, walking away from the scene like it was nothing. You couldn’t blame them, it was late at night- they were tired. They weren’t willing to have an interview this late.

txmxrxow.s: Did you see the news? Smh. Pro heroes this, pro heroes that. It’s getting tiring.

You take another bite of cereal and pick up your phone to reply.

You: Yeah, but at least they keep us safe. And on that note, im glad you’re safe, but I mean we were literally up at that time just texting each other lmaooo

txmxrxow.s: haha, yeah :)

You pick up the remote control and switch the channel to something else. You were getting tired of hearing about villains and heroes all the time too.

You: anyways, i’m bored. wanna call?

txmxrxow.s: sure

You: i mean like, video call? we haven’t video called since omegle lolol

txmxrxow.s: hmm.. nah.

You frown. Didn’t he just say sure a few seconds ago?

txmxrxow.s: but i miss your cute little face. so, get on discord.

You blush and furrow your brows. Who does this guy think he is?! You huff, and pull out your laptop and open discord. Seconds after, you receive a call from Tom and accept it.

“Hello. Guess you couldn’t resist my cute ass face.” You teased. He chuckles in response, and turned on his camera. Again, he’s wearing a black tightened hoodie, so you could only see his eyes and nose, along with his messy light blue hair. “I really couldn’t.” He responded flatly. You blush and roll your eyes. “Shut up.” You grin.

You and him talked about random things. You would occasionally take a bite of your cereal, and he would snap a photo before you eat the spoonful of Froot Loops. “Hey!! Delete that!” You pleaded, covering your mouth full of milk and cereal with your hand. He laughed in response, showing his phones’ screen to the camera, which was the photo of you about to put the spoon in your mouth. You swallowed the food in your mouth and crossed your arms. “Not funny! I’m turning off my camera.” You huffed, and turned off the camera.

“Nooo! Come back!” He pleaded, exaggerating the “No.” You laughed, and turned on your camera just as fast as you turned it off. Needless to say, you enjoyed talking to Tom.

—

You and Tom were on call for the past five hours. You didn’t get bored of his company, and although your laptop was heating up, you wanted to stay.

“Hm.. say,” He started. You hummed back. “What’s up?” You didn’t lift your eyes from your phone. You were scrolling through your instagram feed and occasionally were sending Tom funny cat photos and videos.

“Do you want to meet up?” Your heart skipped a beat. You looked at your laptops’ screen with wide eyes. “Now?” You ask. He shrugged, twirling his hoodie string between his finger. “Sure. Or, if you want we could meet up later this week. Or later tonight, so there isn’t much people, especially with the whole virus thing going on.” You nod.

Should you go today? Later tonight? I mean, he seems pretty real to you. And you really liked talking to him. You liked him in general.

“I um, have to talk to you about something too.” He said, slightly choking on his words. Your heart rushes. You look at the time on your phone. 3 pm. Wow, time flew by fast.

“Sure. Let’s meet up at 10 pm.” You smile. He sighed in relief. “Okay, cool. I’m.. excited to see you.” He blushed. Your heart continued pounding against your chest and you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m excited too.” You guys sat in silence, scrolling through your phones. You gulped, feeling uncomfortable.

God, why is everything so much more awkward now?! It’s fine. You’ll meet each other, and talk. It’ll be your first time seeing each other in real life, and it’ll be fine.

You turn to your laptop screen. “Well, my laptop is heating up really badly, so I’m gonna go. We can still text if you want.” You put your index finger on the trackpad, hovering it over the hang up button. “Alright, see you soon.” He puts his phone down and waves. You smile and make a silly face before hanging up. You needed to get ready, even though it was only 3 pm.

— *Time skip to 10 pm*

You didn’t want to appear to extra and flashy on the first time meeting, so you went with an oversized (F/C) sweatshirt and jeans. You let your hair down, and put on mascara. Your heart was beating loudly. You were excited, but nervous. What did he want to talk about? You had an idea, but you dismissed it.

You heard a notification go off and checked your phone.

txmxrxow.s: let’s meet over here.

After he sent that text, he sent a photo of a building that you passed by occasionally.

You: okay. see you soon! ^^

You smile to yourself. You breathe in and out to calm yourself. You turn off the lights and put your phone in your pocket. You grab a mask and put in on your face, and put on latex gloves. You shut the door behind you and start walking towards the direction of the building. You decided to listen to music to calm yourself.

What a weird coincidence that you met a person on Omegle that lived in the same country as you. Matter of fact, in the same city as you. You couldn’t believe it. And you fell in love with him? Truly strange. But, you don’t hate it. You smile happily. You realize that you shouldn’t be nervous. You guys have been talking for three weeks. He was comfortable with you, and you were comfortable with him. You guys were friends.

You hummed to the song that was currently on, and you noticed that you were close to the place you guys were meeting up at. You just had to cross this street and you’ll be there. You patted your hands on your jeans, realizing how sweaty they got from you being anxious. The street sign turned to a walking figure, and you slowly crossed.

You took out the earphones in your ears, and put them in your jean pocket. You squeeze your hands into fists as you see a figure a few yards away from you wearing a black hoodie. He was facing the other way, but you noticed that they were on their phone. You decided to walked up to them. This was Tom, it had to be. You looked at the building next to the figure. Yep, it is Tom.

You walk until you’re a few feet away from him.

“T-Tom?” You let out, almost as silent as a squeak. Their head looks up, and they slowly turn around. Your eyes made eye contact with their deep, red eyes. Their shaggy light blue hair was sticking out of their hoodie, and they had the strings tied together like you’ve seen on video call.

You smiled in joy, and went to wrap your arms around him. You pressed your face on their chest. He slightly stepped back, not expecting you to do that. He hesitantly wrapped his arms around you, careful not to touch you with all five of his fingers on each hand.

“(Y/N), you came.” He smiled, sighing. He didn’t want this moment to end; and neither did you. You moved your head up to look up at him. He was looking back down at you. “Are you always in these clothes? You have the same exact outfit from when we called on Omegle and video called today.” You teased, furrowing your brows. He grunted in response, and rolled his eyes.

“Haha, so funny. No, I don’t. But, I wanted to meet you because I wanted to talk to you about something.” You unwrapped your arms from him and slightly stepped back. You put your arms behind you and tapped the floor with the tip of your shoe. “What did you want to talk about?” You had a faint blush on your cheeks. He rubbed the top of head awkwardly and looked to the side.

“Well.. I know it’s only been three weeks but..” He started, taking a deep breath. You felt your heart beating loudly against your chest. You rubbed your lips together. You fidgeted with your hands. This is it.

“I feel like I’m the most comfortable with you. You let me talk about my problems and you help me with them. I calm down when you’re talking to me. After ending our calls at night, I wouldn’t be able to get you out of my mind.”

You felt your blush grow redder, and your breathing gradually increased. He’s doing it. He’s doing it.

“You’re.. simply to say.. the best thing that has happened to me. Nobody has acted this way to me besides you. Life makes sense when I’m talking to you.” He blushes, and grabs your shoulders. His pinkys don’t touch you. You widened your eyes at this, not expecting him to do that suddenly. You look at his eyes in a daze, feeling your heart almost explode out of your chest.

“(Y/N).. I..” He swallows, his throat dry.

“I love you.”

He finishes it at that, and there’s a silence. You blink, feeling fireworks explode in your stomach. You slowly smile. You raise your arm and move your hand through his hair and hoodie to his cheek. “Tom.. I love you too.” You felt your legs shake. Honestly, you never felt this way about anyone. So why do you feel this way with someone you met online? You didn’t know, but you didn’t feel bad.

He moves one of his hands towards his hoodie strings, and pulls them so they untie. His hoodie loosens, and you finally see his lips. They were chapped, colorless. Scarred. But you smiled. He moved towards you and placed his lips on yours. You close your eyes slowly. Carefully, he moves his hand down to your back, and pulls you closer. You felt yourself going crazy. You moved your free hand and placed it on his shoulder gently. Both of you deepened the kiss, feeling the passion between each other.

After a few seconds, you guys moved away from each other. You breathed silently while you stared at each others eyes. He smiled at you, but then his smile slowly went away. He sighed, and looked down.

“(Y/N), There’s something else I need to tell you.”

You look at him confused, but you still smile. “Yes, Tom? You could tell me anything.”

He lets go of your body and squeezes your hands in his hands. They were cold. “Will.. will you look at me differently? Will you still love me?”

Taken back by this, you didn’t know what to say. “Of.. Of course I will still love you. We’ve come this far, why would I stop loving you?” You ran your hand across his arm, trying to reassure him. He sighed, and suddenly looked up at you in all serious.

“My name is Shigaraki Tomura.” He spoke. “I’m.. the leader of the League of Villains.”

Your eyes went wide. Your whole body froze. You slightly squeezed your hand on his arm.

Leader of the villain league? Him? How? You couldn’t believe it. The same person you talked to about problems you believed to be normal; were just problems of a villain?

He noticed your fear, and his eyes went wide. He grabbed your shoulders, looking at you in panic. “You still love me right? You won’t leave me, will you? You know I love you right? I would never do anything bad to you.” He tried reassuring you, shaking you slightly.

You couldn’t help but be startled by him now. The same person you called insults and teased, could’ve easily lost control and killed you? Right now, you in the grip of his hands; if he lands his pinkies on you, you’re done for.

Do you still love him? You thought to yourself. Just the other night, he went out and attacked the city with his league of villains. That was the same night you guys were texting. You believed that he was at home, in his bed, just texting you. You couldn’t believe this.

“Tom… ura…” You choked. You realized that Tom wasn’t a fake name. It wasn’t an abbreviation of tomorrow. You gulped. Were you in his hands of delusion all along? Since the beginning?

Shigaraki gritted his teeth. “Please… (Y/N).. I’ll- I’ll change for you! I promise! Please.. me meeting you is possibly the most life changing thing that has happened to me. For the better! I love you so much! I would die for you!! I would disband the League of Villains for you! If- If you want, I’ll just kill them instead! The world could be in peace! (Y/N)-“

“Tom. Err.. Tomura. Listen.. this is a lot to take in right now. So please, just calm down. I don’t know your intentions, and I just can’t believe that… you’re a villain.” You let out, frowning. You looked down at the concrete below your feet, debating with yourself. What do you say next? Now knowing his true identity, you felt that if you say something wrong, you’re done for.

You squeezed his hands. Suddenly, you wrapped your arms around him, squeezing his hoodie between you hands. “Just please… change for me. Stop..” You blinked back your tears.

“Stop killing people.”

You heard his breath hitch, and he slowly wrapped his arms around you. “(Y/N).. I love you.” You closed your eyes. This is real life. The guy you met online, someone you felt was a normal person, turned out to be a villain.

You felt him move your hair away and moved it over your shoulder with his fingers. You looked up at him. He had an indescribable facial expression.

“(Y/N), I’m sorry. Just know I love you. But this is for our safety.” You furrow your brows in confusion, until you felt a sharp sting on the side of your neck. You widened your eyes. “Tomura..” You felt drowzy. An injection. You looked at him one final time, reading pain on his face. “I love you.” He said once again, but his voice was muffled. You felt darkness consume your vision, and fell onto your knees.

—

Leather. Your wrists were binded together with leather. You slowly opened your eyes, blinking to adjust to the light.

You slowly realized that your chest and your feet were binded against the chair you were sitting on as well. Your mind felt fuzzy, and you felt sick. Where am I?

“Aww, look guys! Shigarakis little girlfriend is starting to wake up!” You hear a girls voice. What is going on? You look up slowly. You see many figures. There were men, and distinctly one girl. You blinked a few more times to adjust your vision, and you looked to the back of the room. You felt your memories slowly start to come back as your eyes landed on Tomura. You widened your eyes, and felt tears run down your face. Tomura had his villain costume on, the hand on his face making it harder to see what his face looks like.

He got up and walked towards you. Fear pulsing through you, you kicked and pushed- trying to get out of the chair. Your quirk wasn’t much help, so you felt hopeless. Trying to fight back was your only option right now. Tomura bent over and put his hands on your shoulders. You rapidly shook your head. “Don’t touch me! Get off me!! You lied to me, you lied to me!! You never loved me!! You lied.. you want to kill me!” You screamed hysterically. More tears ran down your face. You weeped, noticing that Tomura hasn’t done anything yet. His pinkies were up like last time, and he didn’t harm you yet.

You sniffled. “Why.. why are you doing this?” You whimpered. He took one hand off your shoulder and carefully took off the plastic hand that was on his face. He was unreadable. Is he regretting what he is doing? Is he angry at you? Or does he simply not care at all and is just waiting for you to stop fighting so he could kill you already? He stands up straight and turns to the other villains. “Leave. We need privacy.” He demanded. They nodded, and with that, the villains walked out and left. Where? You don’t know. He turned back to you and put his hands back on your shoulders. You gulped in fear, feeling your breathing quicken.

“Wh-What do you want, Tomura.” You choked, sniffling. He frowned, and sighed. “(Y/N), I’m doing this for your safety and mine. If I just let you go after telling you who I am, you could’ve easily told the police about your connection with me, and they could use that to their advantage to track me down and arrest me. And we can’t have that, can we?” He stood up straight and walked to the wall to the right.

“And for your safety, if someone saw us talking, they would take the chance of kidnapping you themselves. They would try to get info from you and use you to their advantage.” He turns to look at you. You were still silently crying. You bit your bottom lip in anxiousness, until you heard footsteps from him walking towards you. You widened your eyes and quickly shut them, afraid of what is going to happen next.

You felt him cup your cheek softly with his hand. You flinched, realizing you lost all trust for him. “S-Stop..” You whisper. He frowns. He crossed his arms. “(Y/N). Look at me.” You didn’t comply, and still had your eyes closed. He furrowed his brows, frustrated. He banged his fist on the arm rest next to you, making you jump. “Look at me goddamnit!” He yelled. You looked at him with fear in your eyes. He widened his eyes slightly. He didn’t want to scare you. He just wanted you to understand. He softened his eyes and sighed in frustration. He pinched the bridge of his nose and continued looking at you.

“Look. I never lied to you. I still love you, (Y/N). Truly, I do. I meant everything I said in my, err, confession as you may call it. But things are too dangerous right now. I can’t change for you just yet. You understand that right?” You looked down in hopelessness. “I hope you can realize soon enough that what I’m doing is protecting you. Trust me, I won’t let the rest of the villains lay a single hand on you. I’ll treat you with good care.”

He held your chin up with his index finger, and you looked up at him in defeat. He smiled gently. “Alright princess?” –

My first fanfic in a while!! Hope you enjoyed! Hopefully there is more to come ;) this was requested by my amazing friend @crabziee-writez <3!

Narilamb part2:

Okay okay, this time its less canon but imagine the lamb opening the bar and narinder take a drink but then is posess(idk how to spell it preperly i'm french sorry). The lamb do his best to find him in dongeon and when he finaly find him punish him from drinking whitch of course frustrate Narinder but hey, he couldn't just let his favorite ex god be posses again and have to kill him !

Toys (NSFW)

Tomura Shigaraki x AFAB Reader

Tags: PiV, Use of Vibrator, Overstimulation, Squirting, Unprotected Sex, Pre-Established Relationship, Slight Dacryphilia

WC: 1.5k

"C’mon…don’t cry…let’s do it again…”

Sex with Tomura is amazing. Truly, it really is! Although he can be very rough in bed, he’ll always make sure your comfortable and enjoying yourself. If you ask him to change positions, he’ll always shuffle around just for you, even if he’s grumbling under his breath about how needy you are.

He’s an amazing partner in bed. Really…it’s just that…

More than half the time, he can never make you cum during sex.

That doesn’t mean the sex isn't good! No, of course not! It’s amazing! His cock curves so sweetly into your hot cunny, rubbing up into that squishy spot just a few inches deep inside you. And he loves to pound into you like his life depends on it, his heavy balls slapping against your ass / clit depending on your position, and his fingers so tenderly rub against your aching clit, causing your sweet little pussy to clench around him…

But it’s never enough

In the end, once he finishes, he’d have to use his long slender fingers to plunge inside you, desperately finger fucking you into oblivion until you cum. He doesn’t care if you cry and sob against his fingers, begging ‘Please! No more! ‘s too much!’  with your sweet little voice, he’s determined to make you cum.

Whenever you fail to cum during sex, he always seems so grumpy. So mad and upset at himself for failing you. It’s gotten so bad that he’d even end up scratching at his poor neck until it bleeds, beating himself up for disappointing you. All of this makes your heart ache, and eventually, you bring up the prospect of using toys during the bedroom.

When you first bring this up, he stays silent during the conversation, his mind whirring with different thoughts.

Were you seriously thinking of replacing him for some silicone dick? Was he not enough? Were you that unhappy with your sex lives? Would you break up with him? How fucking dare you try and replace him?! He was going to fucking kill-

Before his thoughts delved deeper into hatred and despair you quickly explained to him that no, this wasn’t a way to replace him, and that you were happy with your sex life. The conversation lasted a long time, the both of you sharing your opinions and thoughts on the matter.

Tomura was blunt about his thoughts on the matter. He refused to let you bring any dildo’s or toys that would require any sort of insertion into the bedroom. No, that was his job, only he belonged deep inside your weeping cunt, not some plastic toy.

He also didn’t want any toys to be used on him either. He was already upset about bringing in toys to begin with, so even bringing up using toys on him would cause him to start scratching his neck.

Eventually, the both of you reached a conclusion. You’d go out together, and buy whatever toy would suit his merit and your needs. 

When the day finally came to go shopping, you were absolutely buzzing with excitement! Not only would you be able to go shopping for something for your sex lives, but also you’d be able to spend time and help Tomura understand your needs.

Entering the sex shop hand in hand, you dragged Tomura towards the first few toys you saw, holding them up and explaining their function to him. At first, he didn’t really pay attention, his eyes darting throughout the store, his body stiff and his hands constantly coming up to tug the black hoodie further down his face.

You weren’t too sure if he was embarrassed, or maybe paranoid of being recognized, but eventually he managed to calm down enough to actually help you browse throughout the store. He scowled at every dildo or phallic item you passed, and he even spent a few seconds gazing at the wall of monster dildos in the corner.

For a moment, he imagined you struggling to take such a monstrous cock, and how your pretty little cunny would squelch and cry at such a big size. But he quickly pushed those thoughts away.

Eventually, after spending around an hour or so of browsing, you both decided on what you thought was the most basic purchase, yet best item you could have gotten. A hitachi wand.

As you two warped back, you spent the first few hours unpacking and letting the wand charge completely. Once it was finished, you took it back to Tomura’s room, holding it up like a prized possession as you spoke.

“Let’s try it out now!”

As you laid on your back, your legs spread wide as Tomura stood between them, his cock sliding between your puffy folds. Your slick mixed with his pre, your body buzzing with lust and excitement. Tomura grabbed the base of his cock, slowly sliding it down your slit until the tip of his cock nudged your eager hole.

You sighed in relief as he slowly pushed in, the head of his cock sliding in with a small squelch as you reached over the bed to grab the vibrator. You could see his lips twitch into a small frown, but he didn’t comment on your actions as he bottomed out.

Once you felt the familiar slide of his cock moving inside you, you turned on the vibrator, the buzzing noise causing his hips to stutter as he pulled back far enough to watch you place the bulbous head against your clit.

Instantly, a breathy curse escaped your lips, eyes fluttering shut as your hips bucked up in response to the intense vibrations against your needy bud. You could hear Tomura whimper from above you, his hips beginning to move as he spoke.

“Oh fuck…I-I can feel it even when i’m inside you…”

From above, Tomura felt chills of pleasure run down his spine. Everytime he moved, he could feel his cock buzzing from the pleasure, and everytime he pulled out far enough, the force of the vibrations would go straight to his tip. He groaned, his cock twitching as he moved faster, your slick causing his light blue pubes to stick together, a small string connecting the both of your bodies every time he moved away.

You could feel your pussy begin to drool, your tits bouncing with every hard thrust of his hips. His grunts became louder from above you, his hands coming up to grip at your thighs, the plush flesh pooling out of his fingers as he rammed himself deeper into you.

“Fuck…you feel so fuckin’ good…hah…so tight, you gonna cum already?”

You didn’t even notice the way your cunt so desperately clung to his cock, the coil in your stomach forming so quickly you could only babble a whiny ‘yes’ as you pressed the vibrating head even harder against your clit.

Your throat burned as you screamed out in pleasure, your orgasm ripping through you in multiple waves, both the vibrator and his cock drawing it out until you were nearly crying. You pulled the vibrator away from your overstimulated clit, gasping out as he grasped your wrist and forced the toy back against your nub.

You yelped, a searing pain that felt way too good suddenly coursing through you, your body squirming under him as you sobbed in response to his actions.

“No! Aagh! Tom-Tomura! W-wait wait wait! It's too much!”

He giggled from above you, a breathy moan escaping him as his hand pressed the toy against you even harder as he spoke in a dark tone, his hips stuttering against your pulsing cunny.

“Fuckk…feels so good baby…I can feel the vibrator against my cock-shit! Oh god…mhn…just a bit more..!”

You couldn’t stop the tears from falling from your face, your clit burning from overstimulation and pain. It felt so painful but with every second the vibrator was held firm on your clit the more you could feel another tight coil forming, ready to burst once again.

But this one was different.

Your legs began to tremble involuntarily, loud sobs escaping your throat as your cunny began pulsing against his cock in an almost painful vice. You didn’t even notice the sudden gush of liquid that squirted out of you, hitting Tomura’s pelvis and forcing his cock out of your gushing hole due to the intense pleasure of your second orgasm.

Tomura groaned in surprise as a sudden force caused his cock to pull away, watching as your sweet little cunny quivered and pulsed as you squirted against him, the strong yet short stream eventually dying down to a dribble, falling onto a pool of your fluids beneath you.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight, and only after a few moments of staring, laughter began to bubble up in his chest, leaving his mouth in small manic giggles as he trailed his eyes back to your face.

Oh, what a beautiful sight you were. All sweaty, flushed and wrecked. Fat salty tears escaping your eyes as you shook, small pretty sobs escaping your lips as you laid out all blissed out and messy.

He leaned down to lick the salty tears off your face, his cock pulsing and throbbing with eagerness as he grinded against your sloppy pussy.

“Oh fuck…that was so fucking hot…holy shit..eheh…c’mon…don’t cry…let’s do it again…”

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Opposites Attract - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Your quirk lets you capture almost anyone with ease, and you can't believe you let Shigaraki Tomura escape. Shigaraki can't believe it, either, and according to the League, there's only one possible explanation -- you let him go because you've fallen in love with him. He decides to find out if it's true. You decide you won't fail to capture him again. You both get a lot more than you bargained for. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapter 1

This was supposed to be your day off. It’s all you can think about, which isn’t a good thing, because you’re in the middle of a villain attack and using your quirk at all requires a significant amount of your focus – but it was supposed to be your day off, dammit. You’re supposed to be doing something fun. Going shopping. Getting a haircut, or mani-pedis, and going out for drinks with your friends at a place crawling with photographers. All the stuff young, single, female pro heroes are supposed to do. So what if you hate that stuff, and you were probably going to sleep all day, wake up at 5pm, make dinner, and marathon the Alien franchise until you fell asleep again? You could have gone out.

But instead you’re here, because Eraserhead caught himself another spinal fracture, and when the doctors threatened to tie him to the bed if he tried to leave before they were done fusing it, he called in a favor you owe him and made you supervise his first-year-class from hell on a field trip to the brand-new Kamino Memorial Park. Go to Kamino Park, they said. It’ll be safe, they said. There’s no way in hell the League of Villains will hit the place a second time.

Well, they’re hitting it, and they’re hitting it hard – and it was supposed to be your goddamn day off. You throw out your arm to stop the trio of students you’re shepherding to safety as three knives thud into the grass in front of you, and make yourself a promise: The next time Eraserhead asks you to do anything, you’re telling him to go to hell.

“Hey, um –” One of the students taps your shoulder, and you know without even asking that they’ve forgotten your name again. “We got our provisional licenses. We can fight now.”

“You can, but you won’t. Create a perimeter and protect the civilians,” you order. You’re not sure why the League of Villains is here, but there’s no way you’re feeding a bunch of kids back into the same meat grinder they escaped from a month ago. “Other pros are on their way, and so are the police. In the mean time –”

You flick your fingers, calling up a magnetic field, and the knives lift out of the grass, hovering in midair. “I’ll keep them busy.”

You consider taking the knives and sending them back the way they came, but unless you want to fatally wound Toga, you’ll just be handing her weapons back to her. You curl your hand into a fist, compacting them into useless wads of metal. You’ve already used your quirk to tear up the park, creating uneven, unsteady terrain that’s dangerous for anybody who doesn’t have a way to take the fight airborne. Now it’s time for you to do what you do best. You narrow your focus, sensing out the concentrations of suspended iron that represent the League of Villains, and once you’ve got them, you lock them down.

Most of them, anyway. One proves a little more difficult to grasp than the others, and you get moving, using one hand to pull rebar and wiring out of the ground. You need it to ensnare the three you’ve already captured while you chase the villain who slipped away from you. You secure Toga and Twice, but Dabi burns his way free, and Twice sends a clone after you. Since it’s a clone, you don’t feel bad about yanking every molecule of trace metals out of its body and turning it to sludge.

Dabi’s on his feet, but you’re a bad matchup for Dabi for a lot of reasons. He’s got a ton of extra metal in his body. He throws his hands out towards you, blue flames already flickering. You fix your quirk on the staples holding him together and start pulling them out.

“What the fuck?” Dabi snarls, recoiling. Blood is already beginning to ooze from the holes on his wrists. “If you think you can just take me apart –”

You yank out another two – one from each wrist. “Stand down. You’ll run out of those before I run out of power.”

It’s true. Your quirk is Magnetism, and using it is easy for you. Using it safely is something else, but you can yank out every staple in Dabi’s body without breaking a sweat or destroying any property. Not that you want to do that. “I don’t want to hurt you, so just –”

There’s a shift in metallic concentration just behind you, and you dive to one side, just in time to avoid Shigaraki Tomura’s hand as it tries to close over your shoulder. A Twice clone is after you, too. You take the staples you pulled out of Dabi and fire them through its eye and throat as you roll out of Shigaraki’s reach. The leader of the League of Villains laughs, low and raspy. “Killing somebody? That’s not very heroic.”

You hate it when villains banter, but you’re not letting that one stand. “That’s not the real Twice.”

You’ve got the real one, and now you’ve got Dabi, too – at least for a few seconds. Maintaining a hold on Dabi, Twice, and Toga at once is within your abilities, but doing that and trying to capture Shigaraki at the same time – and maintain the barriers you’ve set up – and stay sharp enough to bounce Shigaraki into midair if he tries to touch the ground and vaporize Kamino Memorial Park out from under your feet – all of that is testing your concentration. When you lose concentration while using your quirk, bad things happen.

Shigaraki reaches for you again. A hero like Eraserhead would retaliate physically, kick or hit back, but you don’t want to be anywhere near Shigaraki’s quirk. You draw back out of reach, taking a step back every time Shigaraki steps forward. “You’re an underground hero,” he says. “Didn’t you learn what we do to underground heroes from what happened to Eraserhead?”

“Yeah. He shook that off, and sent me to take care of his light work.” The longer you can drag this out, the better – you can hear sirens approaching, and you know that Yokohama’s other pros are on their way. “Isn’t this a little high-risk for you? Returning to the scene of the crime so you can – what?”

Shigaraki sneers at you from behind the hand. “What do you think?”

You really couldn’t care less. Someone shouts for you, and your concentration slips for a second too long. You have to decide who to let go of, and between the three you’ve restrained, Toga’s the least dangerous. You let your control over the iron concentration in her blood relax and focus on trying to restrain Shigaraki instead. He’s hard to get ahold of. His body’s iron concentration is less than it should be. You lock him down for a second, but you can’t get a grip, and he slips free, smirking. “I know who you are,” he says. “The Capture Hero – Skynet. Not much of a capture hero, huh? You can’t even hang on to me. Are you sure the villains you’ve bagged didn’t let you get them?”

“No, they just didn’t have anemia,” you snap. Shigaraki blinks. “You don’t have enough iron in your blood for me to manipulate.”

Anemia’s not uncommon, but you’ve never come across a case this severe in someone you’re trying to capture. His iron concentration is so low that you can’t hold him for more than a split second. That level of anemia is crippling, and the words fly awkwardly out of your mouth before you can stop them. “Are you, like – okay?”

“What?”

He’s stopped trying to grab you. You should capitalize on it, pull up more rebar and wire to hold him down, but your mind’s off on its own track. “Do you get headaches?” you ask. “What about dizziness? Do you get tired a lot?”

Shigaraki looks disconcerted. He nods – then shakes his head, snarls, and sinks back into a fighting stance. “Why do you care?”

“What about a rapid heart rate even when you’re not doing anything?” When he’s doing something, like he is right now, it’s got to be even worse. You two have been trading barbs for thirty seconds at most and he’s out of breath. “You need to take care of yourself. This isn’t healthy.”

“Shut up!” Shigaraki lunges for you, and you twist aside. You get a good look at his fingernails as his hand goes by. They’re pale instead of pink. “Why do you care? So you can capture me and keep your precious reputation?”

You’re actually a little insulted. “So you don’t die!”

Shigaraki stares at you. The hand reaching out for you drops, and you close the distance between the two of you to shove him hard, knocking him backwards. Once he hits the concrete, you’ll figure something else out. You can hold him until someone else gets here.

But someone else is here, and they’re not here to help you. Shigaraki tumbles directly into a warp gate, staring at you like you’ve lost your mind the entire way.

Damn it. You can’t grasp the warp villain – wherever his real body is, it’s a long way from here, and you’re at risk of losing Dabi and Twice now, too. You tighten your grip on them, but even as you do, you see another portal opening out of the corner of your eye. This one is in midair, threatening to swallow a group of civilians who decided that hiding behind the All Might statue was a better choice than evacuating like the students ordered them to. “The civilians, or my associates,” the warp villain rumbles, from everywhere and nowhere. “Your choice.”

It's not a choice. You release your grip on Dabi and Twice, both the iron in their blood and the metal and wire holding them down, and warp gates devour them both. The warp gate above the civilians shuts, decapitating the All Might statue in the bargain, and as quickly as everything began, it grinds to a halt.

“Skynet!” someone snaps from behind you, and you freeze. “You let them go?”

Miruko is Number Six on the charts, and she outranks you by a lot, but you still bristle at her tone. “The civilians –”

“If you’re not stopping villains, you’re not doing your job.” She looks pissed. You have a feeling that she’s only holding off on kicking you because it’ll look bad in front of everybody. “If you’d held onto them a second longer, I’d have been here, and –”

“We could have helped!” That’s one of Eraserhead’s students – the one with the spiky red hair. “If you’d let us help –”

“You’re just kids. Do you have any idea what Eraser would do to me if I had –” You trail off when you realize that whatever it is, Eraser’s going to do it to you anyway for even letting the kids near the League of Villains. “I was the senior hero at the scene. It was my call. If you did what I told you – which you did – you did the right thing.”

“You did the right thing,” Miruko says to the student. The police are here. The cars skid to a stop, and you feel the iron concentration in what’s left of the park shift. There’s a helicopter in the air, too. More people, more cameras. Miruko is glaring at you. “You’re the one who screwed up.”

Yeah, you did. You stare dispiritedly at the headless statue of All Might as Eraser’s class regroups around you, as somebody starts questioning Miruko – the new senior hero at the scene – about what went wrong here. A few thoughts spin through your head, mainly of the hell you’re about to catch from the press, the heroic establishment, and the HPSC. Shigaraki Tomura’s case of life-endangering anemia makes it in there, and so does a hit of frustration at the fact that you’re in trouble for choosing to save a bunch of civilians from getting bisected by a warp gate. But the main thing that’s on your mind is the same thing that’s been there since the first spurt of blue flames erupted over the park: This was supposed to be your day off.

“Well, that blew,” Dabi says as he picks himself up off the floor of the League’s new hideout. “Whose idea was this, again?”

He’s glaring at Shigaraki. Shigaraki glares back. “I didn’t hear you say we shouldn’t do it.”

“I said we shouldn’t,” Twice pipes up. He’s still got a piece of rebar wrapped around his ankle. “No, it was a great idea!”

It seemed like a great idea when Shigaraki thought of it last night – go to Kamino Park, rattle the heroes’ cages, show everybody that the League of Villains isn’t scared of anything and isn’t even close to down for the count without Sensei to guide them. Then again, Shigaraki was three cans deep into a twelve-pack Compress had lifted last night, so his judgment might have been off. Twice is still talking. “I mean, we scared the piss out of those civilians. Those hero brats were running scared, too! And did you see what Kurogiri did to that All Might statue?”

“No,” Shigaraki says. He looks at Kurogiri. “What did you do?”

“Over there.” Kurogiri points, and Shigaraki looks. The head of the All Might statue is sitting on the warehouse floor. “It would have been a shame to leave without a trophy of some kind.”

“It’s on the news,” Magne sings out. She opted out of mission, and now she’s watching it on the League’s TV, lifted last week by Compress, which is hooked up to their generator, which was also lifted by Compress. “And it’s not looking too good for the heroes. That little one’s in big trouble.”

“Good. She’s a bitch,” Dabi mutters. His hands are bleeding. “What was that quirk, anyway?”

“Magnetism,” Shigaraki says. He feels weird. Maybe it’s the quirk. “She can manipulate magnetic fields. Any metal, on any of us –”

“I didn’t have any!” Twice protests.

“Then she used the iron content in your blood,” Shigaraki says. You told him how you were restraining the others. Amateur mistake. Or it would be, if there was any way to not have iron in his blood – but that’s a problem, too. “She couldn’t grab me. She said I didn’t have enough.”

“Is that so?” Kurogiri studies Shigaraki. “Did she say anything else?”

“Anemic.” It’s a weird word. Shigaraki scratches his neck. “She was weird about it. She wanted to know if I get headaches, or dizzy – or tired –”

The answer’s yes, which is why it was weird. It was weird that you knew. But the weirdest thing is what you said at the end. “She asked me if I was okay, and when I asked her why she gave a shit –”

“She answered you?” Magne mutes the TV, looking surprised. “What did she say?”

“What did I miss?” Toga skids into the warehouse before Shigaraki can answer. “I got away, but none of you came with me, so I went to the meeting spot alone. What happened?”

“The hero let us go,” Dabi grunts. “Shigaraki was just telling us about a little chat they had.”

“Ooh, you talked to her?” Toga sits down next to Twice on the ground, peering at Shigaraki. “What did she say?”

“She doesn’t want me to die.” Shigaraki feels his face contort behind Father’s hand as he says it. “Weird.”

“Weird,” Twice agrees. “Since when do heroes play mind games like that?”

It’s quiet for a second. “So she asked if you were okay and she doesn’t want you to die,” Dabi says slowly. “I don’t know, Shigaraki. It sounds kind of like she likes you.”

Shigaraki’s mind goes totally blank. “What?”

“You must have won her over,” Magne chimes in. “All that charisma you’ve got – how was a poor underground hero supposed to resist the leader of the League of Villains?”

You seemed like you were resisting just fine, until you couldn’t grab him. But it’s weird that you weren’t angry. You actually sounded like you were worried. Like you really cared whether Shigaraki has anemia, or whatever the fuck. Like you care if he’s okay. “Don’t be stupid. That’s not –”

“Come on, boss, don’t sell yourself short,” Twice says. “If you can seduce any hero you want, how come you didn’t seduce Miruko?”

“Ooh, Miruko’s so pretty!” Toga grins. “The other one’s okay, too. What was her name again?”

Shigaraki coughs, trying to make his throat feel less weird, but it’s not just his throat. It’s his face, too. “Skynet.”

“You said she was getting in trouble. I bet that’s why,” Dabi says to Magne. “They must have all figured out that she’s in love.”

“Shut up,” Shigaraki says. Nobody listens. He raises his voice. “Shut up! The mission was a success. Why aren’t we talking about that?”

“We are,” Toga says. Her grin’s devolved into a goofy, dazed smile. “You have to teach me how, Tomura-kun. If we make the heroes fall in love with us, it’ll be even easier to win! I want Ochako. No, Tsu. No, Izuku –”

Shigaraki stops listening. He picks himself up off the floor, hating the way his head spins, and makes his way over to Kurogiri. Kurogiri studies him. “Anemic,” he repeats. “The hero listed the symptoms of iron-deficiency anemia. Do you experience any of them?”

Shigaraki doesn’t answer. Kurogiri waits, just like he always waits, and Shigaraki figured out a while ago that the fastest way to make the itching stop is to answer the question. “Some of them,” he says. Kurogiri’s eyes tilt in the way that means he thinks Shigaraki’s full of shit. “Fine. All of them. So what?”

“Did she say anything else?”

Are you okay? “No,” Shigaraki says, pushing away the memory of how fast your expression shifted, how you went from focused on keeping Shigaraki’s comrades trapped and trapping him the exact same way to looking – worried. “That was it. Kurogiri, do you –”

“Yes, Shigaraki Tomura?”

“I mean, they’re just – they’re joking, right?” Shigaraki keeps his voice quiet. If any of the others hear this, he’s going to have to kill them. And maybe also himself, so he won’t have to remember that he thought about this at all. “There’s no way anybody – I mean, a hero – would like me. They’re kidding. Aren’t they?”

He wants Kurogiri to say yes. He wants him to say yes fast, and then to not pick on him for even considering it, and then to forget this ever happened. Instead Kurogiri thinks about it. “It is not impossible that they are correct,” he says. “Her behavior was unusual for a hero in her position. And it is likely that she knows more about you than you do about her. Perhaps she does have a certain – perception of you.”

“Great.”

“It could be,” Kurogiri muses. “She drew your attention to an issue that impacts your health, and therefore your effectiveness as All For One’s successor. And she chose to let you go. If the hero known as Skynet does have a soft spot for you, it has worked undeniably in your favor. It might behoove you to allow her to continue to nurse it.”

“Yeah, no.” Shigaraki shoots that idea down immediately. Any idea that makes him feel that weird is obviously a bad one. “I’m not going to track her down and say I’m not interested, but the next time I run into her, I’m saying it and you can’t stop me. None of you can stop me.”

He raises his voice, making sure everyone hears, and everyone looks up from whatever they’re doing. “Of course we can’t,” Magne says. “But you’re naïve if you think you can stop her. Nothing can stop a hero on a mission.”

“And nothing can stop true love!” Toga smiles at Shigaraki. “I believe in us, Tomura-kun! We can win their hearts together!”

The weird feeling multiplies. Shigaraki scratches hopelessly at the side of his neck and thinks about the remains of last night’s twelve-pack. Getting drunk again isn’t going to help, but it’s hard to imagine it making things worse.

Uninvited

Shigaraki x F!Reader smut

Warnings: +18 MINORS DNI! Dubcon(ish just to be sure), breaking in, fear, mention of blood, possessiveness, toxic relationship, manhandling, readers mouth is covered once, oral sex (m.receiving) penetration, rough sex, creampie

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Kohei Horikoshi

Synopsis: Having run away from your ex over a year ago, your life is pretty tame until breaking news informs of a prison break in Tartarus. You’ll have to be careful, because your ex is one of the escaped criminals

Word count: 5.0k

After getting home from work and showering the day off, you slip on some comfy clothes and plop on the couch. Rain patters on the windows of your dark apartment. It trickles down the glass in thin rivers, creating a peaceful ambiance in the otherwise idle evening. Pulling a soft blanket over yourself, you turn on the TV and start surfing through channels. 

It’s past 21 pm, which means that the Friday night movies are on as well as history documentaries on heavier subjects. Pondering what to have for a snack, when you suddenly come across breaking news about a prison break that took place earlier the day in Tartarus.

For most people it’d just be unsettling, but your heart jumps up your throat as the mugshots of the notorious villain group, including their leader, your ex, pops on the screen. Horror spreads on your features as you correct your posture and study Tomura’s picture.

His hair, white as snow, hangs messily on his shoulders. There’s a coldness in his crimson eyes, the hue of them resembling a pool of blood. He wears a rather emotionless expression, however, determination seems to radiate from him, like he had already planned on how to break free when the picture was taken.

You quickly turn off the TV as if it’d make the disturbing news vanish from existence. Getting up in an agitated manner, you bring your hand over your mouth and pace around nervously. 

The reason behind your fears was because you basically ran away from him. Not because you didn’t love him, quite the opposite. He simply grew too ruthless, daunting and he focused on goals that drove you further away from him. Your reasonable words or bitter tears hadn’t been enough to convince him to abandon his life as a villain and eventually you had to accept that your love for him had to end. 

But Shigaraki is a man who rarely if ever takes no for an answer. He simply refused to let you go, grasping your chin on a firm hold that was either intentionally or not– more threatening rather than convincing. His eyes bored on yours, subduing you possessive words and fear that chained you to his fierce love. 

Then a few days later, the Paranormal Liberation Front was arrested. 

Using the opportunity to flee, you applied for a program that arranges new identities for those who wish to cut ties with villains. Such people are often relatives, friends or love interests. That is how you ended up in another city, far away from him. 

As you recall the past from over a year ago, you stop to stare outside into the rainy night. Wanting to believe that Shigaraki has other priorities than you, his controlling tendencies convince you otherwise. Your life is most likely in danger and the wisest move would be to take off. 

Suddenly your phone vibrates on the sofa table, causing you to cringe. Warily moving closer to it, you become more nervous when it turns out that it’s a private number. Your hand trembles as you reach for the device, deciding to answer it. 

“H-hello..?” You stutter.

“Good evening, Y/N. It’s detective Tsukauchi,” a friendly voice greets, making your shoulders slump in relief.

“Ah, good evening detective,” you reply politely. 

“So I assume that you heard the news?” He asks.

“Yeah, I did,” you respond with a troubled tone, which he hears. 

“Are you okay? Has there been anything odd happening today?”

“No, but… Truthfully I’m a little worried,” you confess while glancing outside as if looking for something– or someone.

“I understand. However, I called to let you know that we checked their visitor- and phone records from Tartarus and it seems likely that they are regrouping with Re-Destro somewhere in the north,” he explains calmly.

“Really?” You ask hopefully, since your location was in the opposite direction.

“Yes. Nothing suggests that Shigaraki is after you. Also, we have every pro-hero and the entire police force searching for them so hopefully we catch them soon. I believe you can sleep peacefully tonight,” he adds. 

“Oh. That’s a relief to hear. Thank you so much detective!”

“No problem. Just make sure to contact the police if something strange or out of the ordinary occurs.”

“I definitely will. Have a good night!” 

Hanging up the phone, you place it on the kitchen counter with a relieved sigh. Taking a seat on one of the barstools, a smile forms on your lips as it was silly to think that a danger could be behind your door at any moment. 

Then there’s a knock on the door. 

Whatever easiness you felt, fades into the air as your heart jumps, your fearful gaze immediately focusing on the door. Other than the landlord, no one else, not even your family, friends or relatives know where you live. 

Someone knocks again. Swallowing thickly, you slide off of your seat and with silent, cautious steps approach the door. Reasoning in your head, you tell yourself that if it would be your worst fear, he wouldn’t knock. He’d simply force his way in. 

With the beat of your heart in your ears, you carefully look through the peephole. To your surprise no one seems to be there so you venture to open the door and peek into the empty hall. 

A sudden bang causes you to yelp and whip your head in the direction of the sound, noting that the internal door swings. Apparently it hasn’t been closed properly so you swallow and sneak down the hall to close it. Just to be sure, you take a cautious glance outside into the outer hall, determining that no one seems to be there either. 

Closing the door, you head back into your room, pondering that perhaps your mind was just playing tricks and distorting sounds to fit the occasion. Quite inconvenient, you think and shake your head a little. As you enter your dark apartment, you don’t anticipate the hand that suddenly covers your mouth and stifles the scream that tries to come out. Someone shuts the door as a strong arm drapes over your waist.

“I’m sorry Y/N.” It’s Twice who holds you in your place. 

Suddenly you manage to discern shapes of people around you and as a blue flame ignites in the palm of the PFL’s arsonist, your resistance is immediately tamed.

“Look what we have here,” Dabi comments with a derisive tone and a lazy smirk on his stapled face. 

“Dabi you’re scaring her,” a voice that no doubt belongs to Mr. Compress.

“So? She’s cute like this, don’t you think so too, boss?”

Your whole body reacts to the title and you begin to tremble when Shigaraki emerges from the shadows. The blue light contours his features eerily and colors his red eyes in purple. Dressed in all black, his hands are stuffed in the pockets of his pants and his white hair is tied in a loose, messy bun on the nape of his neck. Stray strands frame his face and forehead and he appears almost condescending, glaring down at you for what seems like the longest seconds of your life.

“You gonna behave?“ He finally asks. Tears prickle your eyes as you nod hastily. Shigaraki glances at Twice who takes it as a cue to remove his hand. You gasp quietly for air with wide eyes, a tear rolling down your cheek as you stare up at Shigaraki who seems unaffected by your distress. 

“We’re gonna crash here for the night. I assume you don’t have any objections,” his gruff voice says. 

It’s more of a statement rather than a question, which you answer with another hasty nod. After noting your consent, Twice loosens his grip on you, “That’s great, thanks Y/N!” 

Someone switches on the under cabinet lighting in the kitchen and the threatening atmosphere changes immediately. Your eyes flutter and you venture to glance around confusedly. 

“Do you have any food cause I’m hungry!” Toga whines, opening the fridge while Twice starts to go through your cabinets, presumably in search of something to eat. 

“You guys, it’s rude to go through someone’s cabinets!” Mr. Compress reprimands, in which Dabi answers with a sneer.

“As rude as breaking into an apartment?”

“Hmm, there’s not enough food for all of us,” Toga wonders out loud.

“Ahh, I’m starving,” Spinner groans, leaning his elbows on the kitchen counter and briefly burying his face in his hands. 

Aware of the crimson eyes still staring at you, you don’t dare to comment. Instead, your gaze cautiously trails up at Shigaraki to confirm his stern look. Although it doesn’t differ much from his usual emotionless state, which makes it impossible to interpret what he plans on doing with you. 

“Toga,” he suddenly calls, not turning his eyes away from you. The blonde skips happily next to him, “What’s up, Tomura?”

“Use your quirk and go get us something to eat with Y/N. Make sure she won’t try anything funny,” he commands, voice husky and low to eerily insinuate a punishment if you defy him.

“Sounds fun! Let’s go!” She replies, grabbing your hand and already pulling you towards the door. 

“She’s gonna get us food?! Be glad you don’t have to shop for clothes because we have spare ones! Twice comments.

***

You slowly push the cart down the aisle in a troubled manner, even though Toga has taken the form of some poor girl whose blood she had spared. She’s lively, chattering away while adding random items to the cart, albeit you notice that she avoids security cameras quite skillfully. 

“...And then Tomura told us we’d come over to your place! How great is that!” 

You smile nervously, “Y-yeah. About that.. Did Tomura say anything about me..?”

She hums pensively and fiddles a carton of tomato soup, “Hmm, not really. I mean, he did tell us that every plan we have will be put on hold until he finds you,” she points out.

“R-really..?” 

She laughs shortly, “Can you imagine! He even decayed an entire cell block in Tartarus when he heard that you had disappeared– and that was when he had quirk-canceling cuffs on!” Your face turns pale and your eyes widen. 

She places the carton back on the shelf and grabs a can that you don’t– or more likely can’t pay attention to what it is. 

“He also said that he’s gonna make sure you’ll never run away from him again– or something like that,” she says and adds the can in the cart. 

“But other than that, nothing special, really!” She smiles widely and you can tell she’s being genuinely oblivious at the impact of her words. 

“..Right..”

***

Arriving back home, you open the door and come across a somewhat disorderly scene. TV is spouting loud as Dabi switches channels, his feet rudely lifted on top of the sofa table. Mr. Compress and Spinner have a rather passionate conversation about what show they should watch, but Dabi dismisses them both with casual snarky comments. Twice has found a bag of chips from your snack stash and he sits on the floor, munching them gluttonously. 

Some of your drawers and cabinets are open as they clearly have been rummaged, probably in hope to find something useful. Apparently they had also found your spare mattress from your bedroom as it’s laid out on the floor along with some pillows and blankets. They all have taken a shower as there are some clothes scattered on the floor, some placed in a careless pile near the bathroom. 

You blink and stare at them rather dumbly, whereas Toga skips to join their lively conversation. Then your eyes trail to suddenly notice Shigaraki in the middle of the room, facing the kitchen area, but looking at you from the corner of his eye. He wears a black t-shirt with black sweats and his wavy hair is a little moist after having a shower. His stern look intimidates you into realizing to close the door and hurry up inside.

Carrying the groceries to the kitchen counter, Twice suddenly notices you, “Oh Y/N, you’re back! Sorry I ate all your chips, but I was really hungry,” he shows you the now empty bag while Mr. Compress rubs the back of his neck in an embarrassed manner. 

“Yeah, sorry about the mess by the way too,” he apologizes.

“That’s.. That’s alright– I’m just gonna prepare some dinner for you now.”

“Thanks for that. None of us knows how to cook anyway,” Spinner points out.

You flash him an insecure smile before rolling up the sleeves of your thin hoodie. While starting to slice up some onions, chili and carrots, you listen to their conversation that at some point turns into bickering and back. But whatever banter they throw at each other isn’t really with ill will, more like a habit of talking that they’re accustomed to. It’s always been endearing to you, the way a random group like them have managed to form bonds that they should’ve had with their families. 

***

Soon the room fills with a delicious scent as you fry some garlic and vegetables. Adding some spices, soy sauce as well as chicken and noodles, you keep stirring until cooked perfectly. 

After notifying that the dinner is ready, it’s probably less than ten seconds when it’s being scooped on plates. You smile a little amused, but notice that Shigaraki isn’t having any of what just so happens to be one of his favorite dishes. Twitching your lips, you presume the reason as to why, but then decide to get out of the way and tidy up a bit. 

Picking up discarded clothes, you put them in a washing machine and hang their coats on a drying rack. Then taking a bucket and a mop, you wipe the floor clean from some muddy shoe prints. 

“Oh, by the way, Y/N?” Dabi suddenly calls from his spot on the couch.

“Yes?” You respond, looking at the flame villain, who dangles your phone between his slender fingers.

“Don’t bother to look for this. I’m gonna take good care of it while we’re here,” he grins.

You show him a sheepish smile, “Oh, I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you say and pay attention to how Shigaraki begins to eat now when everyone else is already bringing their empty plates to the sink. Just like you thought, he lets his comrades have their fill first and he settles for what’s left. 

It makes your heart ache with yearn, remembering how thoughtful he is to those he cares about. You sigh and continue cleaning, pondering that his thoughtfulness most likely doesn’t extend to you anymore. 

After wiping the floor, you take care of the dishes and kitchen counter. Scrubbing the plates and utensils clean, you notice that the mood has become more carefree as the villain's dessert consists of alcoholic beverages. Watching some TV show, they throw amusing comments, for example about what the TV host is wearing. Relaxing a little, you believe that now when everyone has their stomachs full, they’ll soon drift into slumber.

But then your eyes meet with Shigaraki, who’s sitting on an armchair. His elbow on the armrest, he leans his cheek on his fist and appears still somewhat cold. But then he taps his thigh two times, wordlessly commanding you to come and sit on his lap. 

Not even considering disobedience, you interrupt your task and wipe your hands on a kitchen towel. Walking up to him, you carefully place yourself on his lap as he pulls your legs over his own. Bringing his hand on your thigh, he caresses softly with featherlight touch. 

He seems to be relieved to have you in his arms and you don’t wanna ruin it. Instead, you hold onto the silence as neither of you participates in the carefree blabbering that everyone else keeps up. 

Shigaraki then presses his nose on your hair, breathing in the sweet scent of your shampoo– a habit he used to do when you were together. He keeps stroking your thigh gently, but soon it turns more sensual as he adds pressure. Serenity slowly changes into what you’d describe as an impatience as he nearly palms you, and it’s barely appropriate among other people. 

“We’re going to bed now,” he says to you, but doesn’t tune down his voice. If others around hear it, they pretend they didn’t. 

Except Dabi. He observes you getting up with Shigaraki, who grabs your upper arm tightly as if you might run away if he didn’t. You walk before him towards the bedroom and the arsonist sneers while sipping his drink, knowing perfectly what’s about to happen there. 

“Shigaraki–” Spinner suddenly calls and the white-haired villain glances over his shoulder at his comrade, who advances rather seriously. 

“Her screams could attract unwanted attention,” Spinner points out quietly. A hollow feeling appears in your belly as his ominous remark doesn’t reveal what exactly will be the cause of those screams.

Shigaraki shows a cold grin, “How brutal do you think I am?” He asks and pushes you forward into the bedroom, following after and not staying to hear his comrades answer. 

The door shuts and Spinner turns away awkwardly, “I’m gonna assume very..” he mumbles to himself.

As you’re left alone with Shigaraki and he turns his gaze at you, you bring your arms over your chest in clear discomfort.

“.. W-what happens now..?“ You ask fearfully.

“We’re gonna have a little chat,” he takes a few steps closer to you, “And then I’m gonna fuck you.”

“Okay..” You agree without hesitation, but that hollow feeling in your belly grows into a bottomless pit. Your body has not forgotten how rough he likes it and considering the circumstances, you assume that he’s not gonna be mindful of your comfort. 

Your hand wraps around your forearm, nails sinking in the skin uncomfortably, “S-so.. What do you wanna talk about..?“

“Aren’t you gonna hug me first?” He asks like it should be obvious to you. You blink as he pulls his hands out of his pockets, spreading his arms just a little, “It’s been such a long time since we’ve last seen each other,” he adds nearly sarcastically.

You quickly correct your mistake and walk into his arms, wrapping yours around him. Pressing your cheek against his chest, you can hear the calm beat of his heart. Though his collected demeanor doesn’t really mean anything as he’s perfectly capable of doing horrors without even flinching. 

“You’re scared,“ he suddenly points out.

“..Mmm,” you mumble. 

“Why?”

“..I just.. I’m worried that you’ll.. hurt me..” You whisper with a barely audible voice. 

Shigaraki lowers his gaze down at you, “You think I’d be capable of something like that?“ 

You look up to meet his indifferent expression, “W-well.. I just figured you’d be angry with me for.. Running away.”

“Angry–?“ He repeats with a husky voice. There’s an ominous tone to it and it sends shivers down your spine. He then presses his forehead against yours. 

“I’m fucking furious with you.”

You should run, but you don’t budge. Mainly, because he has already proven that running away from him is futile. So whatever he plans on doing to you, you accept it as the consequences of your actions. 

But then he unexpectedly presses you against his chest and kisses the top of your head, “But I could never hurt you,” he says. 

You inhale a shaky breath, tears threatening to form in your eyes. He isn’t dismissive of whatever it is that you fear him doing to you, instead he convinces you with another kiss on your forehead. 

“You could never do anything to make me wanna hurt you,” he slowly kisses down your nose, stopping at your lips as if waiting for your consent. 

You know you shouldn’t, but silencing the reason within your head, you lift your gaze, your noses touching briefly before he presses his chapped lips on yours. Almost like your body melts into him, your arms feel weak as you wrap them around his neck. Deepening the kiss, his tongue slips into your mouth to rub against yours. Slow and sensual, but it’s still more affectionate rather than lustful.

As you part away, your hands slide down his firm chest and you look up at him wistfully. He brings a hand on the side of your neck, brushing the skin tenderly before tucking a few strands behind your ear.

“So have you fucked someone else while I was in prison?“ He suddenly asks. Heat rises on your cheeks as well as in the tips of your ears and you realize that someone as possessive as him is bound to ask that very question. 

“..No,“ you reply sincerely, but the look in his eyes tells that he needs more than just your denial. So you swallow, moistening your throat.

“I didn’t run away cause I didn’t love you anymore. I ran away because I was scared,” you confess honestly, which makes him lift his chin up a little. 

“You’ve become so much.. The whole nation reacts to everything you do, because you can throw this world into chaos at any time,” you explain and look up at his lack of reaction.

“It was just too much,” You add quietly.

There’s a short silence between you before he replies, “I see.“ 

You avert your gaze elsewhere in shame, thinking you should’ve handled it better, “I’m sorry.. I-.. I think that perhaps we should discuss about us.. our relationship and what happens next,” you suggest. 

“It can wait,” Shigaraki states and you blink.

“It can–?”

“I heard what I wanted to know,” he rubs your cheek and looks at you intensely, “I’m done talking.”

His voice is deep, drenched in something between primal and impatience. It makes your cheeks burn as a shy smile forms on your lips.

“Oh..” 

He leans in to capture your lips in a kiss that’s much more forceful than the previous. His tongue slips into your mouth again, rubbing yours messily, dominatingly as if showing that he’s in control. You whine into his mouth as he unzips your hoodie and removes the garment off of you. 

Momentarily parting away, he hastily pulls your top over your head and starts planting open-mouthed kisses down your neck. Hand sneaking into the back of your head, he gently grips your hair. 

“You gonna let me fuck your disobedient little pussy?” he whispers harshly into your ear. 

“Y-yeah..” You whine needily, hands clutching his shirt.

“Atta girl. But first–“ He suddenly tightens his grip on your hair and yanks, making you look into his eyes that gleam with condescension, “Get on your knees.”

Your eyes are hazy, glossy lips parted as his compelling tone sends a jolt of heat down your core. Showing him an obscene smile, you keep your hooded eyes on him and slowly sink on your knees. 

Shigaraki lowers his sweats to free his hardened, aching cock. It throbs in need, making you lick your lips hungrily. Grasping the base of it, you open your mouth and close your lips around the tip.

He leans his head back and closes his eyes, sighing in both relief and pleasure, “Fuck yeah..”

You swirl your tongue around the tip, spitting on it and planting sloppy kisses. It’s messy, hot as you take him in your mouth and start bobbing your head back and forth with a teasing pace. 

His chest heaves, groans reverberating in his throat as he feels your soft tongue rubbing the underside of his cock. Your mouth emits squelching sounds, cute, arousing and your moans send pleasurable vibrations down his length. 

“Fuck.. That’s a good girl..” His praises rush straight in between your legs, making your walls burn and ache in need. You hum contentedly, saliva dripping down the side of your mouth as you greedily take him deeper. 

He moves his hands on both sides of your head, blunt nails scratching your scalp, “Nnh.. I almost forgot how good you are at sucking dick,” he groans in pleasure and you respond with another wanton moan. 

He fucks gently into your mouth, observing as his cock moves in and out. Your glossy lips wrap around his length so good, he becomes more forceful in greedy desire for more. 

“Yeah.. Fucking take it..” He grunts, thrusting deeper. Almost hitting the back of your throat, you gag and pull away for air, but Shigaraki only grants you a second before forcing you to work on his cock again. But you don’t mind and keep moving your head to meet his thrusts. 

“Fuck, baby you’re so hot like this,” he means every word as drool dribbles down your throat, on your chest and in your cleavage. Your panties are soaked, pussy dripping as you’re ready to take some cock. Squeezing your thighs together, Shigaraki notices your attempt to try and cherish that frail vibration of pleasure. 

He pulls himself out of your mouth, “Get up,” he commands, gripping your upper arm and lifting you on your feet. Your mind is cloudy as he roughly pulls down your pants and gets rid of the rest of your clothes. 

Tossing his shirt on the floor, he crashes his lips on yours, hastily backing you towards the nightstand. You barely maintain balance and almost stumble on your own feet, but his strong hands grab your waist and hoist you up on the stand. 

Spreading your legs for him, he wraps a hand around his cock, giving himself a few relieving pumps before lining it with your dripping hole. You shut your eyes as the head of his cock slowly stretches your walls and sinks inside. His intrusion makes your pussy twitch as your body tries to accommodate his size, but it takes a lot of effort.

You hold onto his scar-littered arms for comfort as agony floods you, “T-Tomura..” You whimper.

“Ssshh.. I know,” He shushes, holding you securely in his arms. He knows that it always takes a moment from you to adjust to him.

As your hands loosen their grip, he moves his hips slowly, subtly going deeper after each thrust. Your little sobs turn into moans and bliss spreads on your features as his cock hits that sweet spot inside you. 

He starts to thrust steadily, panting in pleasure while watching your inner lips wrap around him tightly. Your slick coats his cock as it moves in and out of your warm, wet pussy, rubbing him so fucking well. 

Your brows are furrowed and lips agape, moans falling down your lips. Squelching sounds echo across the walls of your bedroom as your juices leak down the curve of your ass.

Suddenly Shigaraki leans in and places his hands flat on the table, securing his posture as he starts slamming into you mercilessly. Your moans turn into choked cries as he releases a year worth of pent up frustration on your body. The nightstand rattles from the sheer force of his thrusts, your breasts bouncing as he keeps fucking you ruthlessly, hot breath fanning on your scalp as he pants in pleasure. 

It’s too much. The pleasure builds up in you like a coil that’s close to unraveling. Another tormented moan rips from your throat as he slams into you harder, abusing that sweet spot so sinfully that it has your vision blurry.

“I-’m… I’m cuming..” You whimper pitifully.

“Yeah, cum for me, baby. Cum all over my fucking cock.“

Getting closer and closer, your toes curl and you cry out, reaching the blissful high. Your walls clench around him, body shivering in pleasure as the orgasm washes over you.

“Hnngh.. Fucking cute,” Shigaraki grunts and suddenly lifts you up and places you down on the mattress. Adjusting his position in between your legs, he starts ramming his cock inside you again.

You throw your head back and poorly suppress the moan that escapes your throat. Your walls feel sensitive, still pulsing in the aftermath of your orgasm, but he keeps abusing your pussy in clear need to reach his own high. He’s relentless and rough, pounding into you faster and harder, using your little hole to get himself off. 

You keep panting, nails scratching his muscular back and leaving little trails, his pace beginning to be too much for you.

“P-please.. T-Tomura..” you whine into his ear.

“I know baby.. Nnghh.. I’m almost there,” he huffs.

As his muscles begin to tense and his thrusts turn sloppy and erratic, you know he’s close. Sinking your nails into his shoulders you cry out as he finally slams deep into your sore pussy. Teeth gritting, he releases his warm seed in steady spurts on your used, sore walls. 

Panting loudly, he shudders and holds still for a moment, taking his time to empty himself inside you. You caress his back while trying to catch your breath, eyes half-lidded for being utterly exhausted.

As he descends from his high and gently pulls out, a mixture of his sperm and your slick dribbles down your gaping hole. He lays himself down next to you and pulls you into his arms to rest and bask in the afterglow. For a moment neither of you speaks a word, but then you remember the subject about your relationship. Yawning, you glance at the alarm clock and it’s midnight. 

You shift a little in your place, “..Is it a little late for a serious conversation about us..?” You mumble, lids feeling heavy as you’re ready to fall asleep.

Shigaraki kisses the top of your head, “Yeah. Go to sleep,” he says and you smile wearily, drifting away into peaceful sleep. Unbeknownst to you though, Shigaraki has already decided that you’ll pack first thing in the morning and leave with them wherever they go.

Shigaraki Tomura: actually a nice and fair guy