#𝐍𝐄𝐘𝐒𝐀 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒 ꩜ .ᐟ

[shinig6mis]

currently obsessed with clingy!bakugo . . .

he would definitely scoff at the idea of being clingy—at least in front of anyone else. but when it came to you, there was no denying it. the guy was attached in ways he didn’t even realize half the time.

like how he’d grumble when you came back late from work or a night out with friends. he’d plant himself on the couch, arms crossed, refusing to admit he’d been waiting up for you. the second you walked through the door, though, he was pulling you onto the cushions with him, wrapping you in a blanket and practically growling, “you’re late.” you’d laugh, telling him you weren’t on a curfew, but he’d just nuzzle into your shoulder, muttering something about how it was too damn quiet when you weren’t home.

then there were the mornings. he was not a morning person by any stretch, but if you got out of bed before him, he’d wake up in a panic, grumbling your name like you’d abandoned him. his voice would carry through the apartment, rough and gravelly with sleep.

“oi, where the hell are you?” and when you came back into the room, coffee mug in hand, he’d just pull you into the bed, trapping you under his weight like a human blanket.

katsuki also had this thing about texting. you weren’t allowed to go more than a couple of hours without replying, or else he’d blow up your phone with a string of passive-aggressive messages:

“you dead or something?”

“i’m not waiting around for you all day, you know.”

“pick up, dumbass.”

but the second you replied, he’d act like he hadn’t been pacing the room, phone in hand, waiting for the notification.

when it came to fights, he didn’t handle distance well, either. he’d huff and puff, slamming doors and crossing his arms, pretending he didn’t care. but an hour later, you’d find him standing in the doorway, arms still crossed, looking like a kicked puppy. “this is stupid,” he’d say, his voice quieter, eyes darting everywhere but at you. “just—come here already.”

he hated when you were upset with him. if you were quiet for too long, katsuki would hover around you like a storm cloud, poking and prodding until you told him what was wrong. and when you didn’t, he’d start doing things he thought would make it better—cleaning up the apartment, cooking your favorite meals, even sitting next to you in complete silence because he couldn’t stand not being near you.

katsuki was also ridiculously overprotective. he’d act like a grump about you needing him, but the truth was, he loved it. if you so much as sighed, he was there, rubbing at the knots in your shoulders or tugging you into his lap. “you’re always stressin’ over shit,” he’d mutter, pressing a kiss to your temple. “lemme take care of it, doll.”

and god forbid anyone so much as looked at you wrong in public. he’d wrap an arm around your waist, holding you tight against him with a glare that could melt steel. “they’ve got eyes, don’t they?” he’d mutter under his breath. “they can look somewhere else.”

at night, he was at his softest. after a long day, katsuki would all but collapse into bed, dragging you down with him. he’d wrap himself around you, burying his face in your hair, and grumble about how annoying you were, but his grip never loosened. he’d stay like that all night, holding onto you like you might disappear, and in his sleep, you’d feel his lips brush your skin, hear him whisper your name like a prayer.

a/n: remind me why he's not real again?

© 2025 shinig6mis | do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my work.

[shinig6mis]

stoner bf!touya isn’t the type to yell or shout to make a point. he doesn’t have to. the lazy smirk on his face and the way his half-lidded eyes slide over to you, then to whoever else is dumb enough to try their luck, are enough. everyone knows you’re his, no need to spell it out. and if they forget? well, touya has a way of reminding them.

he loves taking you to his favorite spots, joints that reek of weed and old vinyl records, where the lights are dim, and the air is thick with haze. you're always tucked into his side in your little dress that clings nicely to every curve, the hem barely skimming your thighs, and just enough of your chest on display to make his buddies stare a little too long. touya doesn’t mind, not really. he likes the attention you draw. it makes it all the sweeter when he throws an arm over your shoulders and leans in, murmuring something that makes you flush under his hooded gaze.

“look at you,” he drawls, his lips brushing your ear as he passes you the blunt. “so fuckin’ pretty. go on, baby, take a hit.”

you do, your lips wrapping around the edge as you inhale deeply, only to cough on the exhale. touya chuckles, low and gravelly, his hand rubbing lazy circles on your back as you double over. “easy, doll.” the words are soft enough for just you to hear, but the grin he flashes as you smack his chest is enough to make your heart skip.

and when his hand drifts lower, resting heavy on your bare thigh, squeezing just enough to make you shift closer, his friends exchange knowing looks. they know better than to say anything though. touya doesn’t share.

later, he pulls you into the grungy restroom, locking the door behind him with a flick of his wrist. “can’t wait,” he murmurs, backing you against the graffiti-covered wall. his hands are everywhere—your waist, your thighs, hiking up your dress until it’s bunched around your hips. his lips crash against yours, tasting of smoke and something faintly sweet as he drags his fingers through your slick folds.

“already so wet f'me,” he teases, his voice slurred and lazy, but the hunger in his mismatched eyes is anything but. “you’re perfect, you know that?”

he doesn’t bother to be gentle. his cock stretches you, the first thrust punching a breathless moan out of you that echoes off the tile walls. touya grips your hips, holding you steady as he pounds into you, each snap of his hips rougher than the last. your cries are loud, shameless, and he loves every second of it.

“louder,” he growls, dragging his teeth along your neck. “let ‘em hear how good i fuck you.” and you do, your voice breaking as you sob his name, clawing at his shoulders for balance.

when he finally pulls out, it’s only to watch his cum drip down your trembling thighs, his thumb smearing it into your flushed, sticky skin. “that’s a good look for you,” he mutters, fixing your dress and smoothing your hair with a smug grin that makes your cheeks burn.

and when you walk back out, your legs are shaking as you try desperately to lean heavily against him as he steers you toward the door. you can tell that everyone around you notices your swollen little lips and wobbly thighs. how could they not? touya doesn’t try to hide it either, his hand firmly on your ass as he glances back at the guys.

“gotta take my girl home. she’s had a long night.”

and when he finally gets you back to his shitty apartment, he doesn’t stop. the walls are thin, and he knows his neighbors can hear every slap of skin, every choked cry of his name. but he doesn’t care. you’re his, and tonight, he’ll make sure everyone knows it.

© 2025 shinig6mis | do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my work.

[shinig6mis]

bakugou katsuki had never known what it meant to feel empty until he lost you.

before you, his world had been loud, filled with fists connecting against bone, the roar of the underground fight ring, the sharp sting of sweat in his eyes as he threw himself into another round, another fight, another way to prove he was the strongest. he was unstoppable. untouchable.

and then one day, you came along. he still remembers the first time he saw you—standing in the dim glow of the underground fight ring, mina at your side, eyes wide as you took everything in, clearly looking like you didn't belong in this scene.

you softened the edges of him, seeped into the cracks he didn’t even know he had. he fought just as hard, bled just as much, but suddenly, there was something else waiting for him after it all. your voice was the first thing he wanted to hear after a match, your hands the only ones he wanted patching him up. and fuck, he’d never needed anyone before, never let himself. but you? you were different. you were home to him.

and then you were gone.

it had been months since the break up. months of sleepless nights and nights he drank too much trying to forget. months of stepping into that ring and scanning the crowd, always looking for your face, knowing deep down that you wouldn’t be there.

he knew it was his fault. you had begged him to stop fighting, pleaded with him after every match when he came back to you with busted knuckles and bloodied lips. “one day you’re not gonna get back up, katsuki,” you had whispered against his shoulder one night, voice thick with worry. “and i won’t be there to watch it happen.”

he had scoffed at the time, muttered some bullshit about how he wasn’t some weakling who would get taken down. his pride has always been his fatal flaw. but you didn’t care about that. you cared about him. you cared too much. and in the end, it was that love you had for him that had made you walk away.

he didn’t blame you for it. but fuck if it didn’t destroy him.

so he threw himself into the fights, let the pain fill the void you left behind. he fought harder. angrier. he turned every match into a battlefield, fists swinging like they could beat the ache out of his chest. it wasn’t even about the rush anymore. it was about punishing himself for letting you go.

he hated that you were still everywhere. in the way he flinched whenever someone pressed too hard on a wound, knowing it wasn’t your touch. in the way his bed felt too fucking big without your body curled up against his. in the way he still looked for you in a room even though he knew he wouldn’t find you.

and tonight, with alcohol burning in his veins, fresh wounds littering his skin, and a hollow ache in his chest that no amount of fighting could fix, he found himself on your doorstep.

he didn’t even remember getting there. all he knew was that the second he sat down against your door, his body slumped with exhaustion, something in him settled. because even if he couldn’t have you, just being near you and existing in the same space was seemingly enough.

when the elevator dinged, and he heard the soft shuffle of your footsteps, he knew before he even saw you.

“bakugou?” your voice was soft and a bit startled.

he forced himself to lift his head, blinking blearily up at you. you looked the same. exactly the fucking same. and it pissed him off, because how was it fair that you got to move on, untouched, while he was stuck here? while he still loved you so much it hurt?

he let out a dry, humorless chuckle. “hey.”

you frowned, taking a step closer, grocery bag shifting in your arms as you took him in—the bruises, the split lip, the haze in his red-rimmed eyes. “what the hell are you doing here?”

he shrugged, but the motion sent a dull throb through his shoulder. “dunno.” his voice came out rough. “just ended up here.”

something flickered across your face. concern, hesitation, or something else he couldn’t name. “get up,” you muttered, unlocking your door. “come inside before someone sees you like this.”

he let you drag him in, the scent of your apartment hitting him all at once. it was the same. it still smelled like you. felt like you. and god, he hated that it still felt like home.

you guided him to the bathroom like you had so many times before. it was muscle memory at this point. he sank down onto the toilet lid without question, watching as you dug through the first aid kit under the sink.

“this isn’t good, bakugou,” you murmured as you pressed a damp cloth to his cheek. “you need stitches.”

he hissed at the sting but didn’t pull away. didn’t take his eyes off you. “don’t need shit.”

you sighed, shaking your head at the fact that he still hasn't changed. “you’re impossible.”

he smirked, but it faded as his gaze dropped to your lips. too close, but still not close enough.

your hands were steady as you worked, but he could feel the tension in your fingers. his face so close and you noticed it too.

his hand found your waist before he could stop himself, fingers curling into the fabric of your sweater. you stiffened but didn’t move away.

“take me back.” his voice cracked, and he hated how desperate he sounded.

your breath hitched, eyes flickering with something. he couldn’t tell if it was regret, sadness, or probably neither.

“bakugou…” you whispered. “i can’t.”

it shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. he knew the answer before he even asked. but hearing it had the final nail driven into the coffin of what you once had.

his grip on your waist tightened for a second before he let you go, feeling himself fall apart all over again.

but then your hand lifted, fingers grazing the side of his face. it was on instinct, the way he leaned into your touch, chasing it like he was starving for it.

“you need to stop doing this to yourself,” you murmured, thumb tracing lightly over a fresh cut on his cheek. “you’re gonna get yourself killed.”

he let out a bitter laugh. “maybe that’s the point.”

your fingers tightened against his jaw, forcing him to look at you. “don’t say that.”

he blinked at the glassiness in your eyes, the way your lips parted like you wanted to say something else but couldn’t.

and then, before he could stop himself, he surged forward, pressing his forehead against yours.

you inhaled sharply, body going rigid. but you didn’t pull away.

“i love you,” he whispered, voice raw. “fuck, i still love you, y/n. i never stopped.”

your hands moved, sliding into his hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp in a way that made his breath hitch.

“you make it so hard for me to hate you, you know that?”

his lips twitched. “am i supposed to make it easy?”

you let out a shaky laugh, and god, he missed that sound.

your fingers brushed over his cheek again, softer this time. “you need to sleep, katsuki.”

he exhaled through his nose. “not tired.”

“liar.”

he let out a grunt, but when you tugged him up, guiding him toward your bed, he didn’t resist.

and when he finally lay down and you sat beside him, fingers still tangled in his hair, he let himself believe that he hadn’t lost you completely. just for tonight anyway.

he would let himself have this.

because even if you wouldn’t take him back, even if he was still falling apart without you, at least for now, you were here.

and that was enough.

a/n: sorry if this seems rushed! i wrote this one during an online lecture raaaaghhh but i can't help it i’m such a sucker for soft bakugou >.< expect more of that soon! <3

© 2025 shinig6mis | do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my work.

[shinig6mis]

it had been a few seconds since bakugou had knocked on your door, but it felt like a lifetime. his mind raced in circles, not knowing whether his thoughts were rooted in paranoia or if there was some truth to them. why hadn't you texted him? it wasn’t like you two had a strict routine or anything, but after everything that had happened last night—how you two had stayed together, cuddling and falling asleep—he couldn't shake the feeling that something was different.

every other night, you've been in and out of his apartment, always leaving within ten minutes. but last night, it ended differently. he couldn’t explain it, but it felt right to be lying there with you, sharing your warmth, hearing the steady rhythm of your breathing as you fell asleep without you leaving right away after getting your quick fix. it didn’t matter if it was because you were too exhausted and sore, he loved the weight of you in his arms, the way you fit against him perfectly like you were meant to be there.

then, when he woke up, you were gone. no text. no call. no nothing. his heart squeezed painfully at the thought of it and he found himself racking his brain with the worst possible scenarios. maybe it had been too much. maybe crossing that boundary had been the mistake. maybe you’d seen the intimacy between you both as a sign that this arrangement had to end. maybe you regretted it, and that terrified him.

so here he was, standing at your door, hands tense by his sides, hoping he wasn’t about to hear something he wasn’t ready to face.

when you finally opened the door, the bags under your eyes looked slightly darker, your hair was pulled up in a messy bun, and you looked far too tired for someone who just woke up. the faint glow of a desk lamp illuminated your room. his eyes went to glance at the textbooks scattered on your desk and the laptop still open with whatever assignments you had yet to finish.

“bakugou?” you blinked in confusion. “what are you doing here?”

“i—uh…” bakugou started, caught off guard by the sight of you. you were wearing those loose pajamas that he secretly found adorable. “can i come in?”

you didn’t hesitate, stepping aside to let him into your room. the moment he entered, he made a beeline for your bed, sitting down, while you stood across from him, arms crossed in that way you always did.

his eyes stayed on you as he tried to gather his words. “you didn’t text after last night,” he finally blurted, his voice rough as always, but the worry in his tone was clear. he couldn’t stand it anymore.

you let out a soft sigh and explained, “i’ve been buried in assignments, bakugou. aizawa’s been on my ass, and i just haven’t had the time to check my phone.”

he exhaled deeply, the tension in his shoulders easing as you spoke. he’d convinced himself he’d lost you, but hearing that explanation made everything feel weirdly better. “so, no… nothing’s wrong?” he hated how nervous he sounded, but he couldn’t help it. this arrangement you both have meant more to him than he was willing to admit, and the thought of losing it scared the hell out of him.

you raised an eyebrow, taking a moment before saying, “we can talk about last night tomorrow if you want. for now… just stay. sleep over if you want. you can be annoying and overbearing in the morning.”

the relief that washed over him was almost overwhelming. he hadn’t realized how much the silence had been eating at him until now. you weren’t breaking things off. you were just distracted, which was probably what he should’ve assumed in the first place. but he couldn’t stop thinking that maybe he had crossed a line he wasn’t supposed to.

for the rest of the night, you sat at your desk, buried in your work, while he watched you, propped up on your bed with his arm supporting the back of his head.

it was quiet. only the sound of your focused typing and the occasional shuffle of papers filling the space between you two. he couldn't help but appreciate the view, watching you get lost in your assignments. despite how complicated this arrangement felt sometimes, he loved the fact that he was the only one who ever got to see you like this. no one else.

he stayed there, his mind quiet for the first time in hours, just taking in the sight of you. you were everything to him in that moment, even if you didn’t know it.

time passed, and eventually, you closed your laptop and crawled into bed. without saying anything, you curled up under the blanket, pulling it tightly around you. bakugou hesitated for a second before sliding in behind you, his arm instinctively wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer. he buried his face into the back of your neck, inhaling the scent of your shampoo, cherishing the softness of your skin.

he felt the tension leave his body as he held you, but his mind still wouldn’t let go. there was a an annoying part of him that wondered what you really thought of him. if you felt the same or if you didn’t. if this was all just temporary to you. but the other part of him that refused to let go of his pride was content just being here. being with you. even if nothing between you was official.

you shifted slightly in his arms, making him tighten his hold on you. it wasn’t perfect. it wasn’t what he had expected when he first got into this arrangement with you. but right now, with you in his arms, it was enough. and maybe, he could keep pretending that it always would be.

© 2025 shinig6mis | do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my work.

[shinig6mis]

transferring to a new university was nerve-wracking. but finding out on day one that there was no dorm room for you? even worse.

apparently, some glitch in the system left your name off the dormitory list. and now, there wasn’t a single open spot on campus. you wanted to cry, but calling your parents and worrying them was the last thing you wanted to do.

so you spent the entire evening scouring for solutions. a faculty member pointed you to a site where students looking for roommates could post listings, and by some miracle, you found one that seemed decent. the description was short but to the point:

walking distance from campus. only one room available. don’t be loud.

it wasn’t exactly the warmest ad, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. you sent a text, got a short reply, and now here you were.

standing outside the apartment door, your arms ached from carrying a heavy box of books and sentimental junk while your suitcase full of clothes sat by your feet. you hesitated for a second before knocking. the moment the door opened, you almost regretted your entire life.

a tall guy with white hair, scarred skin, and heavy-lidded, almost dead-looking eyes stared back at you. his presence was so intimidating that your first instinct was to turn and run back down the hall. but you froze instead, staring up at him like a deer caught in headlights.

“is touya here?” you managed to squeak out, trying your best not to sound completely terrified.

he raised an eyebrow. “speaking. who the hell are you?” his voice was deep and rough, his tone sharp enough to cut.

“i-i’m y/n. your... roommate? i applied here two days ago, we spoke over t—”

“oh. right.” he cut you off, scratching the back of his neck. “didn’t think you’d be here so damn early.”

if you didn’t know better, you’d think he was complaining. but then again, it was 7 a.m. if anything, you must’ve woken him up.

“ya need help with all that?” he asked, gesturing toward the box in your arms.

“uh, yes... please,” you said, relieved and surprised he even offered.

he grabbed the box with one hand like it weighed nothing, and you followed him inside, dragging your suitcase behind you. he set the box on the dining table and kicked the door shut behind him. the place was neat. not spotless, but cleaner than you expected. the furniture was simple, dark-colored, and kind of mismatched, giving the place a weirdly manly vibe.

“bathroom’s down the hall,” touya said lazily, pointing. “kitchen’s over there. don’t leave your shit everywhere. and that’s your room.”

he gestured toward a door at the end of the hall, and you followed him inside. the room was small but tidy. the bed was bare, just a mattress and a pillow, but it was clean. there was a desk and a small closet, too. it doesn’t look like anyone’s ever stayed there.

“anyway,” he muttered, turning to leave. “don’t make too much noise. i don’t like loud people.”

six months later, you’ve realized that living with touya had been an adjustment. at first, there were awkward “hi” and “bye” exchanges, brief encounters in the kitchen as you grabbed a granola bar or nuked leftovers in the microwave. he wasn’t much of a talker, which was fine because you weren’t either. not to him anyway.

but then, slowly, things started to change.

it began with shared dinners. a random night where you’d made too much pasta, shyly offering him some because it felt wrong to eat in front of him while he sat on the couch scrolling through his phone. he’d taken the plate with a gruff “thanks,” but the next night, there was an extra bowl of ramen waiting for you when you got home from class.

from there, it spiraled into routine. dinners became a shared activity, a small tradition where you’d sit across from each other, trading sarcastic comments and the occasional genuine laugh. somewhere in between, touya went from your intimidating, scar-faced roommate to your closest friend. you told him everything now—your classes, your crushes, your petty grievances. he listened, mostly. sometimes, he’d even chime in with advice, though his tone always bordered on teasing.

so when you burst through the door that night, cheeks flushed with excitement, it felt natural to dump the day’s events onto him. touya was already on the couch, two bowls of noodles on the coffee table. his lips quirked into a small smile as he watched you kick off your shoes and drop your bag haphazardly by the door.

“guess what?” you beamed, practically bouncing onto the couch beside him, knees brushing his thigh. “some guy asked me out today!”

his smile faltered, but you didn’t notice. you were too caught up in recounting the story, your voice light and animated as you detailed every little moment.

touya’s grip on his chopsticks tightened. he forced a small chuckle, though it sounded strained.

“can’t believe this actually happened!”

“yeah, well… it’s about time,” he muttered.

but you didn’t hear the sarcasm laced in his words. you were too wrapped up in your own excitement, oblivious to the way his jaw clenched or how his gaze lingered a second too long on your face.

he should’ve been happy for you. he told himself he was. roommates didn’t catch feelings, not ones like this. and yet, every time you smiled at him like that, so sweet and innocent, he felt like the air had been knocked out of his lungs.

the days blurred after that. you went on your first date, then your second, then your third. touya tried to convince himself it was fine. this was fine. he was just your roommate. but you started coming home later and later, your absence stretching into the kind of silence that made his skin crawl.

the noodles he made for you—carefully cooked just the way you liked them—sat untouched on the counter, growing cold as the hours ticked by. he’d find himself sitting on the couch, staring at the door, half-hoping and half-dreading the moment you’d walk in, cheeks flushed with the afterglow of another date.

he hated it.

he hated him. the guy you wouldn’t shut up about, the one who’d taken up too much of your time, your attention. it should be him you’re coming straight home to after school.

touya couldn’t stand it anymore.

he barely needed to put in the effort. you were so trusting, so sweet, and all that innocent yapping gave him everything he needed. your schedule, your habits, even the places you liked to study or hang out. all it took was one stop after his own classes ended to track him down: the library.

the guy was just sitting there, headphones in, engrossed in his laptop.

by the time touya was done talking to him, the guy was pale and nodding, muttering weak promises to do as he was told. touya left the library without a backward glance, his mind already on you.

he got home with enough time to spare, pulling out the instant noodles he knew you loved, the ice cream he bought on the way back. he even set the table, everything arranged just the way you liked it. he’d planned it all perfectly, down to the minute.

and then the door creaked open, and there you were.

he already expected it but it still hurt nonetheless when he saw you—eyes red and swollen, your lips trembling as you tried to hold yourself together. the faintest sniffle escaped, your hands clutching the strap of your bag like it was the only thing anchoring you.

“he broke up with me,” you choked out, voice cracking.

and he almost regret what he’s done. almost.

you didn’t have to say more. he crossed the room in an instant, pulling you into his chest. his hoodie smelled like laundry detergent and faintly of cigarettes, and you buried your face into the fabric, tears soaking through.

“it’s okay,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing as his hand rubbed slow circles on your back. “he’s an idiot. didn’t deserve you anyway.”

his lips brushed the crown of your head, a gesture so soft, so tender, it made your heart ache in a different way.

you melted into him, his arms the safest place you’d ever known. and as he whispered quiet reassurances, a small, satisfied smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

this was how it should be. you, in his arms, leaning on him, trusting him. he’d make sure it stayed that way. you were his, even if you didn’t realize it yet.

© 2025 shinig6mis | do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my work.

[shinig6mis]

you are awful at video games.

you know this. tomura knows this. the entire internet probably knows this by now, considering you’ve spent countless nights on his stream getting absolutely obliterated in every match, no matter how much he tries to coach you. and he does try, though half the time it’s through gritted teeth and muttered insults, hands twitching as if resisting the urge to just snatch the controller away from you and do it himself.

but you’re having fun, and that’s all that matters, right?

wrong.

tonight, you're sitting cross-legged on his gaming chair, wearing one of his oversized hoodies (because he said it was cold and refused to turn the heater on). tomura is beside you, sprawled on his bed, hoodie pulled up over his head as he watches you struggle through a level you should've cleared twenty minutes ago.

his stream chat is ruthless.

how is she this bad

pls put her out of her misery

tomura blink twice if you're in pain

he sighs loudly, letting his head fall back against the mattress. "you're killing me, princess. literally dying over here."

"i'm trying!" you whine, gripping the controller tighter. "the combos are confusing!"

he peeks at the screen just as your character plummets off the edge for the hundredth time. "jesus. do you want me to suffer? is that your plan?"

"shut up," you mumble, brows furrowed in concentration. "i'm focusing."

he scoffs, rolling onto his side to face you. "you’re embarrassing me in front of everyone."

"oh no! what a tragedy." you stick your tongue out at him before turning back to the game, missing the way his eyes flicker down to your lips for just a second too long.

he clicks his tongue, tapping away on his phone as his chat continues roasting you. he’s about to make some smart ass comment when he notices something that makes his fingers tighten around his phone.

someone in chat just said you were cute.

he stares at the message, then at the dozens of others popping up after it.

she’s actually so adorable

lowkey wanna wife her

im down bad for ur noob bestie tomura

a slow, simmering irritation builds in his chest.

he’s used to his chat being unhinged. they say dumb shit all the time. but for some reason, the idea of random faceless losers thirsting over you is making his jaw clench.

you're his best friend. his pain in the ass. his.

not theirs.

he doesn’t say anything at first, just subtly adjusts the camera angle so you’re barely visible in frame anymore. but his chat immediately notices.

tomura MOVE

why u blocking the view bro

he’s gatekeeping her lmao

his eye twitches. "shut up."

"who are you talking to?" you ask, not looking away from the screen.

"no one," he mutters, fingers tapping aggressively against his phone screen as he bans a few particularly annoying users from chat.

but it doesn’t stop. they keep talking about you, and the more they do, the worse his mood gets. he watches, silently seething, as you laugh at something, completely unaware of the way his grip tightens around his phone. you’re just so oblivious, so utterly clueless to the fact that he’s sitting right there, trying not to be a jealous, possessive freak over something as dumb as this.

it’s fine. it’s whatever. he doesn’t care.

except he does.

and when you finally beat the level, turning to him with a beaming smile and expecting praise, all you get is a grumpy huff as he yanks the controller from your hands.

"my turn. you suck."

"hey! i just finished that level!"

"yeah, after thirty minutes."

he ignores your protests, shoving his headset fully on and gripping the controller like he's about to unleash hell. his fingers move expertly over the buttons, and within seconds, he’s speeding through levels like they’re nothing. his chat is going insane, but he barely pays attention, too focused on demolishing every enemy in sight.

meanwhile, you slump against his shoulder, pouting. "you’re so mean."

he stiffens for half a second before relaxing, pretending not to care about the way your warmth seeps into his side.

"and you're awful at games," he grumbles, but his voice is softer now, barely audible over the sounds of combat filling the screen.

he doesn’t push you away.

and when you stay pressed against him, he doesn’t complain.

© 2025 shinig6mis | do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my work.

[shinig6mis]

PAIRINGS. stepbrother!tomura x fem!reader

CWS. shigaraki tomura is a major creep, stepcest, masturbation, dubcon elements, slut shaming, panty kink, stalking (?)

stepbrother!tomura who absolutely despised your parents’ marriage. from the very first dinner they brought you both to, he was convinced your mother was nothing more than a gold digger. her spoiled, bratty daughter gave it away. the flashy designer dress, the heavy makeup—just look at you. what a fucking fake.

stepbrother!tomura who now had to share the connecting bathroom with you after you and your mother moved into their multi-million-dollar mansion. he had spent his entire life with no one occupying the other end of his room—until, surprise, surprise, you came along. wasn’t he just the luckiest?

stepbrother!tomura who took advantage of this arrangement and slipped into the bathroom during the late hours. he didn’t care much for hygiene, but how he absolutely loved going through your shampoo bottles and toiletries, sticking his nose into everything he knew you religiously used on your pretty little face and body. but what he enjoyed most was stealing the articles of your clothing, all of which you had stupidly forgotten to throw in the laundry. he collected them in his room, obsessively sniffing through them until his pants grew a tent.

stepbrother!tomura who was always met with the same ending after this little routine of his: with your used underwear stuffed in his mouth and his hand abusing his cock that’s begging to spill all over your snug tank top. his face was red, eyes half lidded as he imagined it was your tits hidden beneath them and you lying pathetically under him.

stepbrother!tomura who got a pep talk from all for one about how the newlyweds would be off on some vacation to enjoy paradise together. as a result, he’d be the man of the house. turns out your mother was too anxious about leaving you alone and needed all the assurance she could get to make sure her sweet princess would be taken care of. so who did she put in charge? him, duh.

stepbrother!tomura who was currently hiding behind the curtains like a total creep, watching you from his room as you lounged by the pool in nothing but a skimpy bikini. your thighs—god, he imagined himself trapped between them, his face buried deep in your pussy, your fingers stroking his hair as you cooed in his ear about how good he was making you feel.

stepbrother!tomura, whose hand was definitely not palming his boner after you shifted your legs and turned your head to the side, giving him a full view of the sunscreen and sweat glistening from your neck all the way down to your abdomen. your bikini top did nothing to hide your tits, and if tomura didn’t know any better, he’d think you were putting yourself on display just for him. lounging there, giving him a show when you knew damn well he was home? god, you’re just asking for it at this point.

stepbrother!tomura who was definitely not stroking himself now, one hand pressed against the window and the other squeezing his shaft so tight he couldn’t hold back a whimper, his eyes continuously assaulting you. what he would give to be pounding into you right then and there—to feel you clenching around him so hard, unwilling to let him go while you begged to let him finish his load inside your womb.

step brother!tomura who’s cum aimed directly towards you and spilled all over the window. his breath was ragged and heavy, sweat slick on his forehead as he watched you remain completely oblivious to the mess he made you made him make in his room. he’s definitely going to enjoy having you all to himself this weekend.

a/n: part two soon? :]

© 2025 shinig6mis | do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my work.

[jjklover365daysayear]

ugh cuteness im gonna go explode brb 😎

you are awful at video games.

you know this. tomura knows this. the entire internet probably knows this by now, considering you’ve spent countless nights on his stream getting absolutely obliterated in every match, no matter how much he tries to coach you. and he does try, though half the time it’s through gritted teeth and muttered insults, hands twitching as if resisting the urge to just snatch the controller away from you and do it himself.

but you’re having fun, and that’s all that matters, right?

wrong.

tonight, you're sitting cross-legged on his gaming chair, wearing one of his oversized hoodies (because he said it was cold and refused to turn the heater on). tomura is beside you, sprawled on his bed, hoodie pulled up over his head as he watches you struggle through a level you should've cleared twenty minutes ago.

his stream chat is ruthless.

how is she this bad

pls put her out of her misery

tomura blink twice if you're in pain

he sighs loudly, letting his head fall back against the mattress. "you're killing me, princess. literally dying over here."

"i'm trying!" you whine, gripping the controller tighter. "the combos are confusing!"

he peeks at the screen just as your character plummets off the edge for the hundredth time. "jesus. do you want me to suffer? is that your plan?"

"shut up," you mumble, brows furrowed in concentration. "i'm focusing."

he scoffs, rolling onto his side to face you. "you’re embarrassing me in front of everyone."

"oh no! what a tragedy." you stick your tongue out at him before turning back to the game, missing the way his eyes flicker down to your lips for just a second too long.

he clicks his tongue, tapping away on his phone as his chat continues roasting you. he’s about to make some smart ass comment when he notices something that makes his fingers tighten around his phone.

someone in chat just said you were cute.

he stares at the message, then at the dozens of others popping up after it.

she’s actually so adorable

lowkey wanna wife her

im down bad for ur noob bestie tomura

a slow, simmering irritation builds in his chest.

he’s used to his chat being unhinged. they say dumb shit all the time. but for some reason, the idea of random faceless losers thirsting over you is making his jaw clench.

you're his best friend. his pain in the ass. his.

not theirs.

he doesn’t say anything at first, just subtly adjusts the camera angle so you’re barely visible in frame anymore. but his chat immediately notices.

tomura MOVE

why u blocking the view bro

he’s gatekeeping her lmao

his eye twitches. "shut up."

"who are you talking to?" you ask, not looking away from the screen.

"no one," he mutters, fingers tapping aggressively against his phone screen as he bans a few particularly annoying users from chat.

but it doesn’t stop. they keep talking about you, and the more they do, the worse his mood gets. he watches, silently seething, as you laugh at something, completely unaware of the way his grip tightens around his phone. you’re just so oblivious, so utterly clueless to the fact that he’s sitting right there, trying not to be a jealous, possessive freak over something as dumb as this.

it’s fine. it’s whatever. he doesn’t care.

except he does.

and when you finally beat the level, turning to him with a beaming smile and expecting praise, all you get is a grumpy huff as he yanks the controller from your hands.

"my turn. you suck."

"hey! i just finished that level!"

"yeah, after thirty minutes."

he ignores your protests, shoving his headset fully on and gripping the controller like he's about to unleash hell. his fingers move expertly over the buttons, and within seconds, he’s speeding through levels like they’re nothing. his chat is going insane, but he barely pays attention, too focused on demolishing every enemy in sight.

meanwhile, you slump against his shoulder, pouting. "you’re so mean."

he stiffens for half a second before relaxing, pretending not to care about the way your warmth seeps into his side.

"and you're awful at games," he grumbles, but his voice is softer now, barely audible over the sounds of combat filling the screen.

he doesn’t push you away.

and when you stay pressed against him, he doesn’t complain.

© 2025 shinig6mis | do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my work.