#Tenko

[mymhameme]

Finally had the energy to hunt down my old comic notebook. Welcome back Tiny To Bean I missed you 🥲

[hotpotatopotat]

"We Will Be Heroes!" [Shigaraki Vestige AU] Izuku is heartbroken about not saving Tomura, but he gets a good 'older brother' style talk from the newest vestige of One for All.

[what-the-stories-have-foretold]

To Hold an Angel

A little drabble for the bestest and cutest and prettiest and kindest birthday boy in the whole world 🥺💕

You swear you could count his lashes, fluttering against his flushed cheeks. Gently, your fingers carded through his heavy locks, drawing sighs of content from him. Soft puffs left his lips, pink and parted and glossy from when you had kissed him and left traces of your lipgloss on them. He looked so pretty like this. 

You pouted as you watched him, a thumb brushing over his cheek. However, the moment you did, a whine escaped him and he furrowed his eyebrows.

“Hm?” you asked him when he glared at you with lidded eyes. His stare only intensified.

“What?” you laughed. With a groan, he sat up and - not without cupping your cheek and pressing a soft kiss to your lips - grabbed your hand to place it back into his hair.

You snorted at the petulant look he gave you.

“Really, Tenko?”

“You're-” your kiss interrupted him “- not-” another kiss “-supposed to-” kiss “stop.”

You giggled when he looked at you, cheeks flushed a deep red and his lips starting to bruise. 

“Don't do that,” he murmured, but he leaned back into you regardless, mouth parted and a sweet groan leaving him already at the mere thought of kissing you more.

[splishfish]

Love (NSFW)

Tomura Shigaraki x AFAB Reader

Tags: Mating Press, Missionary, Established Relationship, Rough to Soft sex

WC: 476

"I love you..."

Lewd, wet slapping was heard throughout the room, heated panting and breaths mixing together as the smell of sex filled the room. Tomura held you down in a mating press, his cock sliding in and out of your warmth at a rapid pace. Your moans spilled from your lips, funneling directly into his ears. His hair draped over both of you, his forehead pressed against yours as he grunted in pleasure.

Sex with Tomura was always rough. Fast. Carnal. Rough hands exploring your body, bite marks littering your skin. It was primal, really. The way he growled out your name, the way his nails dug into your thighs as he pressed them further up your chest. It was anything but sweet.

Tonight felt different.

Yes, his nails still dug into your flesh. His hips still bruisingly slapped against your own. He still growled into your ear, cursing out in pleasure.

So why did it feel different? Your eyes fluttered open, your hands locked around your knees to keep your legs up, allowing him to hit your sweetest spots. You trailed your eyes to him, his hair framing the both of your faces as if to act as a small curtain.

You didn’t expect for him to be staring back.

You locked eyes, the both of you mixing breaths as you fucked, your sweaty skin slapping together in a brutal rhythm. He didn’t say anything, simply grunting as he let go of your legs, shifting slightly to move into a more comfortable position.

Missionary. Your favorite.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, your hands going up to thread through his hair, pressing his forehead against yours once more. He closed his eyes, resuming his rough pace from before as he lowered himself down to his elbows.

It felt…sweet.

Maybe it was because he noticed your legs beginning to shake. Or maybe he knew you weren’t as flexible as he was. Whatever it was, he had changed positions. For you.

You didn’t know what had compelled you to speak. It felt as though the words had spilled out of your mouth faster than you could stop them.

“I love you…”

His eyes shot open, his expression of focus and pleasure shifting almost immediately into shock. His hips stuttered, losing their rhythm and now mindlessly slapping against your skin. His red eyes bore into yours, a mix of emotion swirling inside them.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t respond. Not verbally at least.

He huffed, burying his face in your neck pressing a small kiss against the skin. His hips found their rhythm again, but the movement was…tender. Slow. Sensual. 

Loving.Small tears welled in your eyes, and you wrapped your arms around him tightly. As a small smile made its way to your face, you knew that despite his silence, he felt the same.

‘I love you too…’

Ty guy's so much for all the love on my last post! <3

[ghostcore3]

he’s so pretty~ 🥺🥺🥺

[tomurawr44]

hcs about bathing with tomu 🛀🫧

A/N: i think this is a funimate sketch...

Warnings: nsfw

He didn't get in the shower and stayed stinky forever end of story.

(Bad ending)

trying to convince Tomura to take a bath with you especially when he gets that gamer groove on his chair is like trying to get a fish to walk, it's impossible.

taking a shower is a different one though, you'll have to lure him in with the premise of shower sex, yes you will have to jack him off.

he does like the feeling of showering, it helps calm his itches and sometimes it soothes the burning sting from when he claws at his neck.

but bathing? he doesn't really like it, not in the dingy and small bathtub, but if he feels really stressed out, i.e he vommits, he will want to have Kurogiri run a bath for him.

he won't tell Kurogiri that he wants it though, he will just stare blankly and sadly at him while he tries to guess what Tomura wants.

he'll point and ask to several things before the dots in his head click, throughout the years he can tell now by just the way Tomura slouches.

back to you and Tomura though...he would like bathing more if they had a bigger tub, but right now he's okay having you in his lap while you two stew in human soap soup.

he loves it when you wash his hair, he is kind of a freak and will sometimes let out a moan that didn't need to be that loud just to entice you.

and since the bubbles cover up the water, he will touch you. carefully though.

he loves grabbing your body when your wet, he loves seeing the shine, and it just makes him happy that you're..close to him.

If you have big boobs, he will play with them, not even sexually, and he was so surprised when they didn't float.

"Hey what the hell? are your tits like...defective or something?"

Imagine yourself as Kurogiri hearing your son young master discussing with his s/o on why he's confused huge titties do infact not float.

Kurogiri has unfortunately heard the weird shower discussions you two have.

anyway, there have been some occasions where Tomura falls asleep in the bathtub with you, and when he wakes up he has a pout on his face that he doesn't know he's doing and it's so cute.

when he's drunk or tipsy thats when you can convince him to shower, under the guise of sobering up.

he has asked you to cockwarm him while he sits and stews after a long day of being a loser.

your loser is now clean, good for you, and him.

(Good ending)

[imjusthereformymindpalace]

Shigaraki One-Shot

hi everyone! it’s my first time posting on Tumblr, so please bear with me! this is just a short drabble(?) that wasn’t proofread and mainly just self-indulgent lol hope you all like it!!! :)

comment any suggestions! i wanna write more of tomura!!!

5 Things You Didn’t Know About Tomura (That You Learned Later On)

Shigaraki x AFAB reader!

1. He’s a sore loser

He doesn’t like losing in video games. He’ll throw the remote onto his bed, cursing, and get up to throw away his can of beer, leaving you to sit in his room for over five minutes. You can hear him cursing under his breath as he paces in the hallway outside of his room, ignoring Spinner’s advice and Dabi’s teasing. You can’t do much other than wait for him to come back and restart the level he initially lost.

He doesn’t like losing to heroes either. He’ll scream and scratch at himself, mumbling loudly of his failed plans, cursing the heroes for ruining his villainous schemes of destroying hero society. He’ll turn to Kurogiri, waiting for his direction to the escape warp. Once away from the scene and back at the hideout, he’ll kick the nearest item to him (a chair), and scratch wildly while ignoring the burning sensation of embarrassment on his face. He hates losing.

2. He loves sweets.

He won’t admit it. But he does enjoy the silky smooth taste of chocolate as it glides against his tongue. He’ll sneak pieces of hard candy while on standby during missions, leaving a trail of wrappers as evidence of his presence. He’ll keep enough in his pocket in case you ever ask him for one, or anyone in the League for that matter. But he won’t offer any first. He loves sweets too much after all.

3. He hates the idea of wearing glasses.

He’ll deny the fact that his vision isn’t as good as he thinks it is. After an appointment with the Doctor, he’ll come back to the base with a small case in his hand. When Toga asks about it, he’ll grumble that it’s none of her business and slam his bedroom door behind him. Sitting on his bed, he’ll open the case and grab the thin frames delicately so as to not disintegrate them. He’ll rest the center on the bridge of his nose and peer through the thick lens. Being able to see perfectly only increased his frustrations and it took every ounce of strength not to throw the case against the wall as he put the glasses away.

Hearing your quiet knocking, he’ll allow you entry and move to the side as you settle next to him on the bed. Wordlessly, you reach for the case, take out the glasses, and place them on his face, adjusting them until he’s no longer squinting at you. Seeing your smile as clear as day made the frustrations slightly less, but still. He hates wearing glasses.

4. He won’t ask for your attention.

He won’t ask you for it directly, no. He’ll mope around, coming up to you and asking what you’re doing. Regardless of your response, busy or otherwise, he’ll sit or stand next to you. He’ll watch what you’re doing and not say anything, just inching closer to you and pretending that he doesn’t notice you noticing what he’s doing.

At times, he’ll walk away for a couple minutes, with the excuse of getting a drink, only to come back empty-handed and lingering in your presence. He’ll start rambling to get your attention, whether that be about missions or his current level on a video game. When you finally get the hint and bring his chest against yours, you feel his breath steady in beat with yours as he sighs into the top of your head. He loves attention.

5. He loves you, he hates it. But he loves it more.

He appreciates that you’re an asset to the League. Your fighting skills are competent and your quirk has proven itself useful many times in battle. You’re able to hold your ground around other members of the League, Dabi especially. He doesn’t have to worry about a betrayal from your part, aware of your allegiance to the mission of destroying heroes.

He likes that you’re not picky when the League is scarce on food. He thinks it’s nice that you don’t care what you look like as you scarf down leftovers from nearly two days ago. He thinks your costume is neat, like one from a villain in a video game he used to play. He also likes what you look like under it. What you look like under him. The way you make him feel. He loves it.

And he hates it. The way you distract him from his goal of destroying. How your smile gives him hope, a concept so foreign to him that it makes him nauseous. He hates how aware he is of the mere countdown of societal destruction, and his role as the leader of such a movement. He hates it. But he loves it. He loves how you watch him with admiration as he fights the world’s top heroes.

He loves knowing you’re counting on him for a brighter future. He loves knowing that he’s the reason you’re standing down from the fight. He loves seeing you from far away, your midsection growing, solid proof of the legacy he plans to leave behind. Oh god, he loves it. He loves you.

[theshinazugawaslut]

𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑲𝑻𝑶𝑩𝑬𝑹 𝑫𝑨𝒀 #𝟐 — 💀🎃 "𝑪𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎 & 𝑭𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒉" 𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒈𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒌𝒊 𝒕𝒐𝒎𝒖𝒓𝒂 / 𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒄𝒍𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒙

tw/cw: dubious consent, mentions of attempting suicide

Don't go, don't go, don't go, don't go.

It's the first thing you had learned as a young bumbling girl, back when you'd clutch onto your mother's cold hand tightly and ask in a high, squealing voice about the woods you had found out were strictly forbidden.

"Don't go in there," your mother had said in a hushed tone, "there are awful people in there; ones who will offer you ruby-red apples with the magick of eternity's youth, but you mustn't ever take them, my baby, and if you even manage to get away from the faeries and witches and wolves, then you will reach the ocean infested with all sorts of monsters. You don't wish to be eaten by a half-bird half-fish now, would you?"

So you'd always been wary of the forest, as a little girl to a lady, living a respectful life at the village.

You spent days embroidering satin gowns with arcipluvian birds and cutting sweetheart necklines with a healer's steady hand and stitching diamond-encrusted bodices into tulle skirts; all the uninteresting things that come with being a dressmaker's daughter.

Though tonight, you'd long abandoned the box of jewels and the slim needle that had become a tender muscle in your mind, left them by the melting candle on your bedside.

Your shoulders donned a blood-red cloak made of velvet, your gown glittering under the night sky; you'd stitched it yourself from the spare fabric of a rich woman who often visited your family's little shop in the village. It was a lovely thing and it was your most prized possession: the bodice was nice and fitted, ivory in colour with rose and aureate embellishments, low and tight so that the clear spheres of your breast were nipped with cold; you'd made your skirts wonderfully layered also — a swelling blood red silk underskirt covered with a sheer, glittering gold fabric, with two overskirts in damask patterns, sable and cream and sun-spun.

When you had sewn it, you'd left it hanging in your sparse wardrobe in hopes to wear it on your wedding day.

Now, all that was left was to wear it tonight and walk straight into death; the tangerine glow of the lantern held up in your dainty fingers, lighting the path to the angel of death.

You had never thought your mother would arrange your marriage to the worst man in the village. Your beauty was sought by every boy and man of the village, and you'd hoped your mother would match you to the sweet butcher's boy across the street.

Keigo, his name is; a boy with hair spun off golden sunflowers and eyes that glitter like topaz under moonshine, sharp as a hawk. He gave you candied cherries once, the tart fruit dipped in hardened sugar water, and he'd smiled so shyly after.

Instead, your mother betrothed you to Touya, the eldest son of the village chief. You had wanted to cry as the man's intense, electric-blue eyes blazed flames into your skin as your mother and his father discussed the engagement.

Everyone knew of Touya, the enigmatic eldest son covered in gnarly, mulberry scars and strange silver rings and snow-white hair, rumours circled like wisps of smoke that he had been set alight with fire by a witch as a young boy. Worse, rumours said that the young man dabbled in dark magic.

You wouldn't marry a man like that, which is why you'll die.

In the forest.

(Don't go.)

Your lantern only illuminates the trees in front of you, just a few steps away into certain death. Webs shimmer like meshed steel in front of you as you take a ginger step inside, the slow crunch of a leaf below your boots is the only indicator something exists inside.

Almost immediately inside the forest, something shifts.

You can't tell what it is but it's there.

Red.

Your eyes become deer-like, large and frightened, and you turn around, wanting to head back but you find that the path back... isn't there, just endless forbidden forest.

That can't be.

Something gets stuck in your throat from panic, like a globe of cloth that makes your throat dry.

You keep walking, your legs a lot heavier now, something akin to logs.

The world around you seems to shift, a sepulchre silence heavier than the cloak on your shoulders. The trees held the macabre stench of blood, speckles of fungied moss glistening like wet witch dust on its mottled bark; the branches twist toward the sky like dark, skeletal fingers, reaching for the stars that winked down from a velvet expanse.

The moon is hideous tonight.

A whispering breath, no, a breeze, shifts through the lines of the forest and your body. It sounds old, perhaps a little sad. It beckons you.

In the back of your head, you can hear the sound of children singing.

Ring-a, ring-a rosies-

There's a beat of a drum, somewhere deep in the darkness where your lantern's weak light can't reach. A drum, a drum- A beating heart.

a pocket full of-

Enchantment twists and coils around you like a serpent, why are your eyes so-?

posies!

The phantasmal gas becomes the damp breath of the forest.

Shadows dance at the corners of your vision.

Your senses begin to reel, ethereal and monstrous and real suddenly not all the same.

A tissue! A tissue!

Flickering shapes form and die behind the trees; those shapes try to reach hands towards you, scintillating and fading.

The sound of a child wailing echoes throughout the forest, haunting the glades, and pouring into some desolate space elsewhere.

When did you start crying? Why are you running?

Someone is trying to hush you, the sound a hollow echoing, more like the ballad of a crumbling cathedral, like fingers of shadow snuffing out the lights.

Why did you go?

Don't go.

We all-

Arthritic brambles catch on your dress for a moment, gnarled with age, snapping like bones as your boots slap through the sounds of the night.

Something spidery slips into your mind, nails sinking deep into the goo of your brain. The distorted image of your parents flashes before your eyes, the grotesque form of the sun-haired boy, the sweetness of electric-blue eyes.

Time loses meaning; minutes stretch into hours as you drift between consciousness and the realm of the lost. In this state, the boundaries of your existence waver like the edges of a dream, fraying like the gossamer threads in your gown.

Fall-

The night sky above transforms into a kaleidescope, the stars becoming blurs of light, something sinister flashing in front of your pupils instead.

In that one moment, you live hundreds of lifetimes, the beat of the drum getting louder, the singing even more so. You see it all: flowery childhoods and fantasies of a lover and children with his blue eyes and your tears at his funeral-

Down!

All you can do is shriek as you fall, dress dirtying.

It's silent again.

You look up and you freeze.

A deep pool of glittering, gemstone-blue expanding here, a stream behind it, most likely leading to the seas. It's stunning; glimmering like star gleam, burbling and thrumming like a child blowing bubbles into a cup. It lights up the rest of the forest around you, ripples reflecting across tree bark.

You reach out a hand just to touch, fingertips trembling just about to touch the surface.

A hand encloses around your wrist.

You don't have it in you to shriek a second time as blood-curdling eyes meet yours.

His eyes are red. Vivid, vibrant, violent.

He's simmering with cruel intent, volcanic and about erupt, but he's strangely calm, something hypnotic in his gaze and bluish hair falling in front of his ashy face.

The hand around your wrist is gentle. Thick, long fingers, and a broad, heavy palm; made to destroy, you don't doubt his touch is decaying.

He's half-submerged in water, the upper half of his body all sinewy muscle and the lower half... beneath the blue water, you think you see black swishing around; pulsating like a jellyfish.

"...A human," he murmurs with a heavy tongue, and you can see the gills flare . "So pretty."

Then everything about him changes, that eerie calmness you had caught before disappears as he smiles at the way your mind screams, your eyes bloodshot and terrified.

There;s something rotten in the way he quirks his lips up.

His teeth have the same glint as blood-drenched bones, like flesh ripped out of a body, like hot red swallowing you whole.

"Why are you here, little girl?" he asks, hissing through calcite.

The hand around your delicate wrist tightens.

Run.

Don't.

"I- I- I-" you stammer uselessly. "I- No, I-"

"Shh, 's okay." His other clawed hand comes to touch the plump of your cheek, talons gently tracing soothing patterns. "You don't have to... say a word."

His voice is sultry, soft... It's almost mesmerising.

The fingers on your wrist dance to the back of your hand as he traces the veins there, as if he wants to rip them out and sew himself a tail from them.

He entwines your hands together tenderly.

"Such hardworking hands," he coos, eyes taking in the sight of all the pricks from needling away at dresses. "You need to unwind." His eyes flicker to yours and he gives a half-smile half-smirk, almost genuine. "I can help with that."

His grin is lopsided, those red eyes glimmer, the incandescence of them illusory. "You want to...?"

Your vision becomes hazy, blurring like it did earlier, only this time it's much more relaxing. Like sleep spindles wrapping around your sore joints.

"You missed me, right? You came here all the way to see me, 'm honoured," he murmurs, mouth against your knuckles before pulling back just a little. Another flow. "You came here to see me, right?"

You can't remember now.

Why... did you...?

Why do you feel so disoriented?

"You're the sweetest, you know." The large, gentle hand on your cheek moves to the back of your head, sinking into your hair and bringing you closer to his mouth. You try and shake your head to fight away the warm haze. It's useless. "I've been feeling hungr- Lonely, for so long."

Both his hands cup your jaw now, thumbs caressing the lines he can find on you.

"You're lonely too, right...?" he murmurs and you find yourself nodding along, the gills on his neck flare. "It'd be nice if... you'd join me, here, in the waters." His voice is a whisper now, his mouth inching closer. "I bet you'd like it. My voice is prettier below as well, do you want to hear?"

You blink, frazzled.

The fingers on your face dig in a little harder.

"It'd be nice, you know, listening to beautiful songs with me," he says, "I just adore singing, especially at deaths, it's why everyone calls me Shigaraki. I bet you have a beautiful name, too."

But you don't say it, all you can hear is his name on repeat, like sea froth and foam on the red tip of your tongue.

"Beautiful girls like you deserve pleasure, you know...?" he whispers. "Do you want to...?"

You don't know why you nod.

But he kisses you. It's cold and his teeth gnash against yours, something in it is desperate as his claws make quick work of ruining your beloved dress.

Whatever he does, it keep the oxygen in your lung as he hauls you into the glowing pool that has become duller below it.

He's gorgeous in the water, in all his tentacled glory, and his eyes are burning red to keep the magick of remaining docile on you.

His lower half is the most bizarre thing you'd ever seen: blacker than squid ink at midnight, obsidian veins creeping up on abdomen and then his lower half splitting into eight meaty tentacles.

He grabs you by the throat this time, kissing you with his forked tongue, fangs nipping into the fat of your gasping bottom lip, the other hand holding your head.

You're entirely nude; soft legs floating in the water, virgin cunt exposed, the plump of your ass glimmering. He pulls back, grinning like a warping shadow as his hands touch your swollen breasts.

It all happens at once.

A slimy tentacle wraps around your leg, the other twinning the action, suckling onto your shins and knees and thighs, and he spreads you apart like a starfish, uncaring for how your hips almost shatter from the pressure.

Another tentacles winds itself like a gutless animal around your stomach and squeezes tight enough that all you'd eaten comes gurgling out in a cloud of yellow. The tentacle is large enough to sheathe around your tits, the suckers across the tentacles are like reverberating mouths on your nipples. Within seconds, your nipples are raw and bitten, expanding to twice their size obsenely.

Shigaraki grins as you let out a strangled moan before he shoves a bulky tentacle in your mouth causing your eyes to almost pop out your skull as it goes down into your thoat so that it almost explodes from expanding to fit the thing.

It's gorgeous how sweetly you let him thrust the throbbing tentacle in and out, even sweeter how you scream around it as he doubles down on your sugary pussy and ass.

It hurts so much you can't even feel it inside your stomach, the tentacle on your breasts moving up to squeeze at your throat.

Your stomach convulses from the gruesome size of him, hammering into your womb like a savage barbarian in a brothel. You catch sight of the merman through your tears; his eyes have rolled to the back of his head, mouth hanging open in a vulgar moan, and he was right, he does sound prettier under water.

Your blood is clear in the water as he fucks you, tentacles and sucker clamping and sucking and thrusting on the inside and out.

You're going to die like this, with this monster making you the prettiest human cumdump-

The flames of dark magic suddenly bleed into the waters, severing the tentacles of your captor, the spell breaking and you screech, watching as the monster flails about, blood gushing and staining the pool red as the cut tentacles float.

All you feel is unfamiliar hands holding onto you and swimming out of the waters.

The last thing you remember seeing is electric-blue eyes.

[tinpot64]

doodle while i finish the next comic up!!!! based on this tweet https://twitter.com/OneWingedTenko/status/1789539728477343922

[toyasgirl]

In the other world, I believe they’re in this age :,)

[pfpanimes]

⌕ boku no hero academia - volume 41 illustration. 💚

like or reblog if you save/use.

[mymhameme]

I forgot to post this after i finished those furby ones...

[hotpotatopotat]

Why I don't think Shigaraki or his legacy is over.

I don't normally do canon delves but I am compelled as a Tomura fan to dissect the final battle. This isn't a post on whether it's good or bad, but observations on what's been told.

Shigaraki's crux has always been that he feels like no one can possibly understand what he is trying to accomplish, that his message and suffering is pushed under the rug, and that society is so rotten there's nothing to be done. Deku's goal is to try and understand this.

When Deku breaks through in mha417, Tomura challenges him on this. What would even change if you saw what happened to me? What would you even DO about it? Deku declares to the one person that needs it most: To reach out and give you peace, and "that is why...I am here"

But... When given the chance to go back to a time when he was happy, Tenko chooses not to. "Nah." he says. I think this is often overlooked, but Tomura didn't WANT to leave behind everything he's done.

Tomura says, even if you got rid of my hatred, even if you succeed in "saving me", it doesn't change the fact that I still believe in the future I'm fighting for, to destroy. The villains need a hero, the suffering needs to end, and things need to change.

Hang on to that for a moment. All for One shows up. He mocks him, his dream, his goals, claiming that they weren't real, that they weren't his, that his heart doesn't matter, that none of it does. He's evil.

All for One does kill Tomura here... or at least he would have....

With Deku's final blow, he ignites any remaining embers, Shigaraki, included. They land the final blow to All for One. Without that spark, and without Nana having saved Tomura from fading away, he wouldn't have been able to do this. Tomura would have died before.

Tomura's vestige is still decaying away, and he laments the fact that maybe...he wasn't more than the crying kid Deku said he was. He couldn't do anything. He didn't even destroy Deku's hands. His dreams are over.

Izuku says that he wanted to stop the cycle of grief and suffering. Tomura gives him a soft "hah..." This is such a cathartic moment for them, because I believe that Tomura finally feels understood. He's actually quite relieved.

Strangely, Tomura is soft here. He's not decaying away anymore, he's solid, he's wearing his old shirt. He's NOT the same. He declares how he wants to be remembered, as the one who never stopped fighting to change the world. Izuku says, it's already been...but...

In mha424, Tomura instantly challenges this. With a giant smirk, he tells Deku that he better do his damn best to make sure that things change. It depends on the choices that he continues to make, not the conclusion of one battle.

424 feels like a giant wink wink nudge nudge for the reader. Deku is dissatisfied with not getting that instant gratification of "saving" Tenko, just like after a final battle, he won't get the instant gratification of changing the world. We don't get the gratification either.

But honestly, I really do believe that Deku will carry on Shigaraki's legacy and internalize it just like All Might's.

One final thing... You see his hair change textures. Left to right, It's decaying like in the final form, it's defined and stringy like in his early days, and it's airy and blocked like in his liberation days. This is such guardian angel energy, I swear.

I don't think this is the last we will see of him. And if it is, at least physically the last we see of him, I'm happy Deku will carry on what was truly in Tomura's heart.

[bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love]

😲😳🥵😍🤤🤤*clears throat* THANK YOU BONES. Just lose the pants, they barely hanging on.

[splishfish]

Watch (NSFW)

Tomura Shigaraki x AFAB Reader

Tags: Mutual Masturbation, Fingering, Established Relationship, Use of The Word Slut, Slight Dirty Talk, Good girl is Used Once, Crude Tomura

WC: 943

“You…want to watch me jerk off?”

"Yeah."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You…want to watch me jerk off?” “Yeah.” That simple conversation was what led you two where you were now. Sitting in front of Tomura with your legs crossed together, and him manspreading on the bed, his pants strewn somewhere across the floor. His flaccid penis laid on his balls, an unimpressed expression on his face as he watched you stare at him.

“Your dick is cute…” You mumbled, smiling affectionately at his penis.

A scowl formed on his face, and he glared at you as he grumbled out. “It’s not cute. Don’t call it that.”

A small giggle left your lips, and your eyes trailed up to him curiously. “So…are you gonna jerk off?”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes as he grabbed the base of his cock. He limply wiggled it, muttering. “Show me your tits. I need to get hard.”

You sighed, reaching for the hem of your tanktop and preparing to slide it off when he suddenly stopped you. A look of confusion formed on your face, and he smirked as he spoke.

“No. Like this.” Suddenly, one of his hands grabbed the collar of your top, yanking it down and causing your breasts to spill out and bunch up at the top. You gasped in surprise, shooting a glare at him.

“Seriously?! You’re gonna stretch out my top!” “Shut up. It makes your tits look bigger, so be a good girl and play with ‘em to get me hard.” A scoff escaped your lips, but you didn’t argue. Bringing your hands up to your breasts, you began to gently rub at the softened nubs. You cupped your breasts gently, holding them up as your index fingers drew small circles around them, slowly hardening your nipples into stiff peaks. Once they were hard, you began to slowly pinch and twist them, pulling on the sensitive flesh and letting small muffled noises of pleasure escape your lips.

Your eyes trailed down to his penis, which was slowly beginning to stiffen up. He grabbed the base, pumping his cock at the same pace as your gentle stimulation. He hummed in satisfaction, before speaking again with a casual tone.

“I wanna see your pussy.” “How charming.”

One removal of sweats and underwear later, you sat in bed with Tomura in front of you, and your legs spread wide enough for him to get a good view of your pretty cunt. He groaned once he saw your pretty folds, stroking his cock before pausing. He scrunched his nonexistent eyebrows, before speaking in a puzzled voice. “Why aren’t you wet?” A few minutes of explaining how women aren’t constantly aroused later, Tomura violently fisted himself to the sight of your two fingers snuggly pumping in and out of your pussy. He tilted his head back, a small thunk being heard as his head hit the bed frame. The tip of his cock weeped constantly, precum coating his hand and causing a slick noise to echo through the room. His voice echoed through the room, small moans and cute whines slipping from his chapped lips, a pink hue coating his face and a small sheen of sweat coated his face.

You weren’t any different, two fingers pumping in and out of your now soaked pussy and small moans of pleasure escaping your lips. Hooded eyes locked onto his cock, the red mushroom tip disappearing and reappearing with every thrust of Tomura’s hand. A whiney voice escaped you, muttering in desperation. “Tomu…wanna see you cum…ah…touch your balls for me…please?” A groan of pleasure escaped him, and he squeezed his aching cock as he responded. “Fuck..you’re such a slut…watching me jerk off and telling me to fondle my balls…you like this huh?” You nodded your head, closing your eyes as you brought your second hand up to play with your clit. Small circles rubbed against the throbbing nub, and a loud whine escaped you as you begged in a hoarse voice. “Please…yes…I’m a slut...please..wanna see you cum…” He chuckled weakly, bringing his hand down to squeeze and toy with his balls. He groaned in pleasure, a curse escaping him as he bucked his hips. “Oh fuck…’m gonna cum baby…”

It wasn’t too long after he muttered those words that he squeezed his balls, almost painfully, as he got out rope after rope of cum. It splattered onto his hand, even reaching as far as his shirt, staining it with a white streak. As he panted, still languidly stroking himself, he watched as you finger yourself, desperately attempting to reach your own peak.

Crawling over, he settled besides you, raising your leg up and placing your calf on his shoulder, spreading you wide. A small whine escaped you, and you leaned back to lay on your forearms as he took control. His hand quickly replaced your own, slipping two fingers inside your warmth. A loud moan escaped you, his fingers reaching deeper inside. One of the better things about having Tomura use his hands is how rough they are. His fingers are dry and calloused, scratching your insides in a way that made you curl your toes and scream.

It didn’t take long for him to finally help you reach your climax, your hips bucking up into the air as a broken moan escaped your throat. Your warm heat clenched down on his fingers, causing him to grunt before pulling them out, a string of your arousal sticking to his index and middle finger.

Panting from the blissful experience, you took your leg off his shoulder, before wrapping yourself around him. He grunted before wrapping his arms around you in return, nuzzling his face into your hair.

aaahh!! I’m slowly figuring out this app! Are the ombré colors cool? ;3