#i love tomura in all of his forms

[inkykeiji]

not sure if this helps but i just read this a few days ago..

https://www.tumblr.com/moodyvoid/746788409535791104/tomura-promising-to-protect-his-leagues-ideals

i totally agree with you tho!! this is so fucking annoying i hate the way they are moving forward with his character!!!! :c

bnha manga spoilers + clari going on a huge rant that is very much tainted by extremely intense and deeply personal emotions

it does not help, but i appreciate you sharing it with me anyway anon <33 thank you for trying to help me feel a little better, genuinely, i really do appreciate it so much!

ugh. ‘his league’s ideals’ aren’t even his own ideals. his entire life has been a lie—was he really a victim of hero society, ever? would he have been a victim of hero society, and especially in the way dabi and toga and twice and spinner were, had he not been given decay? had he been able to completely live out his life normally, without any interference from afo (completely ignoring the fact that, apparently, he wouldn’t even exist without afo and his meddling)?

he’s a fraud. he shouldn’t be the leader of the league. he IS a victim, yes. a victim of a villain, a victim of his abusive father who hated heroes, who is probably more of a victim of hero society than tenko ever would’ve been—so at least there’s that indirect link. but to me, and this is purely my own personal opinion, having decay not be his natural quirk takes so much away from him as a character. i interpreted quirks as a metaphor for undesirable qualities that normal society shuns. as such, having decay be his original, natural quirk, to me, made him a much more fascinating and complex and MESSY character. now he feels one dimensional and boring. all of his ‘decisions’ were tainted by what he thought was true—but none of it actually came from within him, at all, ever. not even a sliver of it. can we even say ‘that was all him’ when we know that the basis for all of those decisions is entirely built on lies and deceit? when literally everything tomura knows, and stands for, and believes, has been built on a lie? when it was all done BECAUSE of the ideals and opinions implanted within him, that don’t have a single hint of truth to them and don’t actually pertain to him or who he would’ve been and what he would’ve suffered at all? i think he genuinely cares for the league, yes. i think he genuinely likes video games, yes. but the reasons and motivating factors behind those decisions are ???????????

i just feel like it would’ve been so much more impactful and sinister for afo to intentionally seek out a child who he KNEW had a quirk that would be shunned and would alienate him from society regardless and then use that trait as a tool to manipulate the child and mold tomura into exactly what he wanted, than to just completely engineer the entire thing from the very start. this single change in detail suddenly alleviates tomura of all responsibility, which makes him feel really flat from a character standpoint. sure, tenko has a great heart or whatever, but i personally am not interested in that. i liked the moral greyness of the league. i liked what they stood for. tomura/tenko having this pure heart within him, or this capacity for a pure heart (ie making these choices to care for and save his little jigsaw of a found family), while also struggling against the shackles society would’ve imposed on him for being born with such a quirk, and the real anger and hatred he would’ve felt because of that, is soooo much more interesting (and relatable!) than tenko just being, what, a decent person? idk.

in other words, none of tomura’s ‘decisions’ hold any weight. obviously, tomura has been groomed and manipulated by afo since he was very young—most of his ideals and opinions were shaped by and influenced by afo. but at least if decay had been his own quirk, there would’ve been a kernel of truth there. that’s all i wanted. just that one kernel of truth.

anyway, sorry i just used your ask to vent and cry about it HAHAHA. i hope i’m explaining myself sufficiently and that my ideas are being expressed adequately and clearly. honestly, i’m having trouble fully articulating myself and why i am so insanely upset over all of this, but in a nutshell these are my thoughts. i feel like i could write an entire essay on why this decision sucks so bad LMAO. sure, his story is tragic. but it also feels really meaningless.

who knows, maybe the manga will make me eat my words, and something great will happen, and i truly hope it does!!! i hope it renders everything i’ve said here completely untrue! but we will see what happens,,,

[rueclfer]

smau request- maaaybe tomura trying to convince reader to wake up and hang with him super late bc he’s def a night owl & they end up staying up until sunrise; flirtation & heavy petting etc as we love to see it

i wrote this at 2am my brain is fried but waow loser/slightly more confident shiggy ily+ enjoy this mix of written and smau <3

twilight zone // tomura shigaraki

"oh my fucking god, knock much?" tomura exclaims, spinning around towards you in his swivel chair.

"shut up." you yawn, rubbing your eyes away from the bright PC screen illuminating the room. "like you weren't expecting me or something."

from his desk, tomura watches you click the door behind you and crawl into his bed. you pull the comforter up to your chin and nestle into his mattress as if he was the one that intruded on you in his own bedroom.

"wasn't half-sure if you were even going to come." he murmurs before shutting down his PC, diminishing the only light source in the room.

you feel the bed shift beside you as he stiffly lays down. "might as well light some candles too while you're at it." you tease.

despite how groggy you sounded, tomura could hear you signature smirk in your voice- the one that never failed to irritate the fuck out of him. he hadn't thought this far ahead- wasn't even expecting you to respond to him this late at all. all he could think about was how quick his late-night confidence was dwindling into nothing, making him squirm a bit in his own bed.

"i'd prefer to not have to look at your face." he mutters.

owch.

you don't respond. the exhaustion was ready to take over once your head hit the pillow. you think about the last time you had been in his bed like this.

it was about a month ago when you found yourself too drunk to even form a cohesive sentence. he didn't understand what you were blabbering about, but once he saw your swollen lips, flushed cheeks, glossy eyes, and handle of whiskey under your arm, he just assumed the worst.

you were drunk, touch starved, and desperate, but of course he knew better than to let you sloppily smash your lips into his like you intended two when you stumbled into his doorway. he spent that night half asleep in his gaming chair, periodically reaching over to make sure you were still breathing with his trash can pulled up next to your side of the bed.

once you sobered up the next day, he scolded you. relentlessly. strings of obscenities dripping from his mouth.

from that point on, he made sure to always find a way to keep you two at bay- something that he himself wasn't even sure how to go about. elbow nudges. kicking your feet under the dining room table. laying your legs over his lap on the couch without you asking. pats on shoulder. all to make sure that night never repeated- unsure if he could handle you throwing yourself all over him again.

"are you fucking falling asleep?" you feel a jolt on your shoulder as he shakes you awake. "wake up."

"i'm tired." you whine.

"well stop. i didn't invite you here to sleep in my bed." he huffs.

"the fucks got you up, then?"

"nothing."

you go silent for a moment.

"don't be annoying or else i'll leave." you deadpan.

"don't ask stupid questions then." he returns the attitude. "isn't it obvious? i can't sleep. can't even game right now. i just want to..." he voice falters at the end.

"...hang out with you, i guess."

oh.

your jaw slightly gapes open in surprise, spikes of heat crawling up your neck.

you tightly grip the fabric of the comforter. "well, when you say it like that, it sounds like you actually like me." you chuckle.

"didn't say that. we live together. bothering you is my only option."

"lucky you, i love when you bother me." you scoot closer, noses onto a few inches away from one another. "and even more when i bother you."

"yeah, i know. it's like you can't resist me or something." he pulls the comforter up over his mouth, shyly muffling his words.

"i should be thanking you then, right? thank you so much, tomu, for letting me lay in your bed with you. please. i want you. i need you. it's all i can think about when i'm just across the hall from you. " you roll your eyes.

he scoffs. "wouldn't be the first time you were pathetically begging for me either."

"as if." you spit. "i'd never."

"but you have."

a beat of silence passes. you press your lips together as hotness comes over your body while the events of that night surges back to you.

"you said you'd never bring that up again." you clench your teeth, cringing at the memory of tomura retelling that night's endeavors to you the morning after.

"needed to humble you a bit." he chuckles. "told you it's not a big deal though if you're still embarrassed about it."

"no shit, i'm still embarrassed." you tug the covers up to your nose. "i tried getting at you and you rejected me. i'll never live that down, tomu."

tomura goes quiet for a moment. he must've been thinking. he does that often- retreat back into his head when he isn't sure about what else to say. or maybe he had finally fallen asleep.

you glanced over his shoulder to the analog clock sitting on his desk.

4:27AM.

it was late- or early. maybe these past few sleepless nights had finally caught up to him, hopefully to save you from having to relive an embarrassing moment.

to him, tomura's brain was malfunctioning. crashing. blue screen error.

"uh. wait." he begins, breaking the silence. "reject' isn't the right word. you were drunk. i just did what anyone else would have."

"call it what you want. i just wanted a smooch and you weren't with it. it's whatever, i'm over it, you heartbreaker." you dramatically sigh.

"well, i'll give you one now if it'll get you to shut up."

it was your turn to error and crash now.

"really?" your eyes widen.

tomura's breathing stops. he wasn't sure what gave him the confidence to say that outloud. maybe it was because he couldn't clearly see your face. it was almost like you weren't there- like he was speaking out into the void that made it so easy for those words to slip out.

he didn't mean it. right?

"yeah."

fuck.

"-if you want though." he quips.

please shut the fuck up.

"last month wasn't a rejection. i just didn't want you to only want me when you're drunk, you know."

stop talking.

"but you're sober now and we're talking about it and i just-"

your lips crash into his. it catches you off guard as much as it does to him. despite how much you enjoyed listening to him ramble out his nervousness, you couldn't risk losing another opportunity to kiss him.

your hands crawl up to the side of his neck, rubbing the tender skin below his jaw as you draw him closer to you. the floodgates have opened now. tomura met your lips with the same eagerness.

you were pressed up against one another, legs intertwined, sharing a breath and heartbeats as your hands glided over each other's bodies.

your stomach was twisting with anxiety. how long had you been waiting for this moment? all of those shy glances around the apartment, subtle touches, and hidden affections had clearly not gone unnoticed.

his hand runs from the nape of your neck to your lower back where he slips his hand under your shirt, causing you to pull away in surprise from the sudden contact.

"your hands are freezing, tomu." you gasped. "what the fuck?"

"sorry." he sheepishly mutters against your lips. he keeps his hand against the soft skin of your back, lightly rubbing the area as an apologetic gesture as it warms against your body.

"sorry." you repeat, humiliation starting to creep up your neck as you two settle with the realization of what line you two had just crossed.

a beat of silence passes.

"um. so." he coughs.

"so...yeah." you respond.

it wasn't long before you two started giggling to one another like a couple of children.

"shut up." you laugh, hiding your face into the pillow.

"guess i did say you coukd have anything you want if you came over." he breathlessly chuckles.

"please. shut. up." you squeak out. "i'm going to sleep. it's already like..." you peer over his shoulder. "almost 5:00AM, tomu. good fucking night."

you turn around, letting your back face him. you could die right now. melt into this mattress and into nothing. thank god it was dark and thank god he shared this humiliation with you.

he slings his arm around your waist, bringing himself flushed against your back.

"i'm not tired." he mumbles into the back of your neck, peppering kisses into the soft skin. "stay up with me."

you mentally kick yourself. because you do- not that there was much left of the night to get through, anyways, but because when the night's haze dissipates, you'll be dealt with a bigger issue that you wouldn't be able to pass off as a drunken mistake.

[saeist]

my personal touya headcanons (yes i will make full on fics n drabbles with these in mind):

CHRONIC manspreader. literally takes up a whole love couch with the way he spreads his legs

can drive but gets motion sick easily so counting on him for a 2+ hour roadtrip? yeah pull over we’re switching seats

damaged hair from the constant dyeing but that won’t stop this baddie from dyeing it jet black every 2 weeks

only runs on 4 separate hours of sleep and snores like a truck. (u’ll need earplugs)

surprisingly tidy in regards to his room only because rei comes and checks their rooms and if its all messy they’ll get their asses whooped

doesn’t smoke cigarettes BUT has a box of disposables/juuls hidden in his sock drawer (GOD FORBIDS rei finds his stash)

^ in addition to that, contrary to popular belief his plug is unironically natsuo..

loves icy berry related related flavors too LMFAO

is supposed to be a junior in college on paper but since he keeps dropping and switching majors, he’s technically still a freshman

^ is currently taking chemical engineering (took business ad, computer science, finance, nursing (💀) and literally god knows what. his college majors that he dropped is between him, endeavor and god now)

since he’s competitive as fuck and is a perfectionist, took up multiple sports and extra curriculars growing up

prefers soggy cereal

drinks a lot but lightweight as fuck. after one bottle he’s out 💡 but that won’t stop him from drinking more!

knows how to braid girls hair thanks to fuyumi

cats warm up to him on the street cus he’s warm n shit

prettiest resting face but makes the ugliest faces known to man just for the sake of it (still pulls)

doesn’t approach girls, girls approach him

scares them away when he’s all like 😐🧍🏻

hooded eyelids + long eyelshes (both top and bottom)

genuinely starts tweaking when people say he got endeavor’s eyes solely bc hes a momma’s boy..

grew up being SPOILED rotten amongst his siblings so he doesn’t take no for an answer and will actually start stomping his feet

once he opens his mouth however.. everyone is gonna know he’s endeavors son fr 😓

keigo is his closest irl friend but tomura is who he considers as his best friend even if they’re only internet friends

has a basic pc set up and plays valorant fortnite and roblox religiously

shits on children especially shoto and his two friends

once babysat the three of them in exchange for concert tickets

did i mention he has an indie rock emo band he formed when he was in high school? yeah

bassist obviously but sometimes he plays drums

will scare rei out of her wits when he would just magically appear on their couch when he’s supposed to be at his university

his room is in the attic

dresses like hes going to an opium concert but rei makes him change before they leave to go to church so ultimately he dresses up like a cottagecore mf but with piercings and box dye jet black hair

almost broke natsuo’s hand when he first got his nose piercing

embodies the trope of “best friends older brother”

has a soft spot for grandmas and will help them cross the road each time

picks up shoto from school with his beat up hand me down car. literally one slam on the break away from breaking (endeavor gave it to him as his 18th birthday present)

sometimes ends up driving shoto’s friends home too if shoto insists (more like demands)

will also intentionally go through a drive-thru and the kids in the backseat are expecting him to ask them what they want but touya just gets whatever the fuck he was craving, pays and leaves

“we got food at home!” - touya to a enraged shoto

also sometimes touya is shoto’s chaperone or the “parent” that goes to those parent teacher meetings when its time for get shotos report card and will deliberately say shoto has failing grades when shoto is part of the honor roll just to again, fuck with him

shamelessly flirts with the girls natsuo brings home just to fuck with him (he gets sucker punched later that night bc at the end of the day, natsuo is bigger than that man 😭)

when all the todosibs are fighting, nobody listens to him even if he’s the eldest. they all end up ganging up on him (fuyumi doesn’t stop shit, in fact she instigates further. she don’t play)

says he hates winter and likes summer more but whenever its summer time if he could he would live inside the freezer

hates the feeling of sweating 😮‍💨

sometimes goes on days without showering only popping a lil deodorant here and there so rei forces him to shower whenever he just so happened to pass by her

cooks decent meals but shoto hates it and intentionally makes gagging noises whenever he finds out touya was in charge of cooking that night

hates doing the dishes and fools shoto into doing it for him

when he goes on dates, he steals endeavors credit card and just pays for everything. will probably even take you to nobu just to do so

attempts to blame natsuo when endeavor caught on since his card decline at the supermarket but unfortunately touya cannot lie to save his own life even if he tried

OH! talks MAD game in bed but has never touched a woman in his life.. painfully a virgin. u have to teach this man PLEASEE 🙏

likes yeat and carti

basically teenager borderline adult core

[strawberrybuni]

“And then no one ever fucking listens to me.”

You sat on Tomura’s unmade bed as he paced back and forth in his room, ranting about this and that. You weren’t exactly sure how you two started dating. He couldn’t stand you when you first joined the league, finding you to be rather annoying. Yet now, it’s like he has separation anxiety if he’s away from you for too long. You brought peace to him, he needs you more than you’ll ever know.

“Sometimes I just wanna dust them all just so I don’t have to see those dumb fucks again.” He huffed, running a frustrated hand through his light blue locks.

You chuckled softly at his words, opening your arms invitingly. “Well let’s maybe not do that.”

Without much hesitation, he’s crawling onto the bed with you and into your open arms, resting his head on your chest. He began to slowly relax as he felt your arms around him, but then let out a slightly irritated huff, reaching to take one of your hands with his pinky raised and placing it on his head. You smiled at this, obeying his silent demand as you started to play with his hair.

It was one of his favorite things to have you do in private. You’ve been trying to work with him on dealing with his anger in ways that weren’t decaying everything within a ten foot radius. Once Tomura realized how much he likes when you play with his hair, the rest was history. It doesn’t matter what you’re doing, if he wants you to do it, you better do it or else you’re not going to hear the end of it for the rest of the day.

“Well it’s not like they don’t deserve it.”

“Someone annoying you isn’t a good reason to kill them, Tomu.” He rolled his eyes with a scoff. “Well I think it is… especially Dabi.”

You almost didn’t catch his little mumble as you glance at his face that’s currently hidden in your chest. “What did Dabi do?”

“What doesn’t Dabi do? Yeah his quirk is powerful, but he’s so annoying, and rude, and the way he looks at you pisses me off.” His voice was low, his insecurities starting to show. “Tomu, are you jealous?”

He fell silent. Everyone knew that he wasn’t someone who was good at talking about his feelings. Honestly, it wasn’t just Dabi that upsets him, it was anyone. He secretly hates anyone who gets close with you, because he’s terrified that you’ll like them more than him and leave him. He knew he wasn't the best boyfriend ever, but he was trying, he really really was. He might not say it very often, but he loves you more than anything, and the thought of losing you hurts him more than most of the things he’s been through in his life.

He doesn’t want his one form of happiness to be ripped away from him.

“Well there’s nothing to be jealous of, Dabi’s cool and all I guess, but I’m not into him like that at all.” You spoke up when he didn’t say anything. “I love you, and only you.”

He continued to stay silent for a few moments. “Tell me that again.” He demanded quietly.

Smiling, you cup his face in your hands, lifting it so you can meet his gaze. You begin peppering his face with kisses, saying quick “I love you's” in between each kiss.

“Ugh! Okay! That's enough!” Tomura frowns, pushing you away from him. He might be acting like he hates your affection on the outside, but on the inside his heart is beating so fast he thinks he might have a heart attack. “Now come on, I wanna play minecraft.”

Giggling a bit as he attempts to hide the deep blush on his face, you nod. “Anything for you, Tomu.”

[kingtomura]

Ashes to ashes

Summary: Even in the cold aftermath of the war, Tenko rests knowing he's not alone cw: tomura shigaraki x female reader, fix it fic, fluff, drabble, how its actually going to end tbh wc: 742

Everything is bright. 

It’s the first thing he could think of as he blinks his eyes open. The sluggish movements paired with the rhythmic beeping of a machine next to him made it all feel more jarring. 

Once the blurring of his vision cleared he had a better idea of his situation. 

He’s in the hospital. 

There is a window, a machine monitoring his vitals and

You. 

Your head is down as you sat by the side of his bed, the slow breathing of your form clueing him in on your current sleeping status. 

How long have you been here? At his side as he lie in a hospital bed for god knows how long? 

His heart — feeling new, feeling warm aches in ways that have nothing to do with the soreness of his other muscles. 

It makes him reach out to you, his hands are bandaged, but he knows decay no longer rests within him. He knows the quirk was destroyed along with his hatred, yet he still maintains a lifted finger as he pets the top of your resting head. 

Somehow you were so comfortable sleeping at an awkward angle — leaning over onto his bed as you sat next to him in your chair. 

It’s cute. 

You’re cute. 

He feels a smile pull at his features, it grows even bigger as you stir, waking to the disturbance. 

Your eyes are slow as they open and he can only feel himself relax as you look at him again. 

He thought he’d never see you again. 

“Tenko.” Your voice is soft, heavy with sleep as you speak and the words waver with the tears filling your eyes. “Thank god you’re awake.”

Yes, Tenko, no longer Tomura Shigaraki. It feels like a dream, but that part of him died with the end of the war. Only the embers of his true being remaining to be born again from the ashes. 

Your hand catches his and there is no fear in your movements. You are not afraid of him — you were never afraid of him. 

You’ve always loved him throughout it all. 

“How long have you been here?” He drags himself to ask, voice hoarse from lack of use and Tenko can see the way your shoulders shake as you struggle to answer — as you struggle to fight the tears. 

“It doesn’t matter.” Is your only response as you rise from your chair, knocking it back from the force of your movements as you race to wrap your arms around his neck in a hug. 

It’s tight and it presses on the bandages all over his body but he can’t bring himself to care. He’s just content with you being the first thing he sees as he came to. 

He doesn’t acknowledge your shaking sobs, knowing you would get on to him about calling you a crybaby. No, he allows you this moment, pulling you in closer and burying his nose into the crook of your neck. 

“I was so scared, Tenko,” you start, words breaking free from the confines of your mind, “I thought you were gone for good.”

He rubs soothing motions onto your back, pulling you in tighter. “I thought I was, too.”

The words only make you cry harder, the tears make his heart ache along with the pain throughout his body now. 

“I love you, I love you so much,” you murmur, and he knows. He’s always known. “Please don’t ever leave me again.”

Tenko pulls you back, forehead now resting against yours and — god, he knows you would hate to hear him say it, but he can’t help it. He thinks you’re cute in all forms, even when crying. 

“I,” he pauses and looks at you, really looks at you — and seeing his entire world in your eyes only brings the sting of unfamiliar tears. “I love you, too. I won’t leave your side again.”

He brings you in for a kiss, a gentle press of his lips against yours and you take all that you can, eyes closing and head tilting. 

Tenko pulls away and it’s brief only to mutter a firm, “I promise.”

Then he’s back, kissing you like his life depended on it. 

Even so close to you, he knows the warm tears trailing down his face were his own. The burn of them is unmistakable. Tenko can only bring himself to smile into the kiss, feeling anew. 

He can’t remember the last time he cried. 

[leahrintarou]

hii i wanted to request like enemies to lovers for dabi x fem!reader when reader is one of the villains in league and she and dabi always hated each other, or more like they love each other but won't admit a shit. and also dabi is always this rude, snarky bitch and then one day they get send together for some mission and he gets injured, like somewhere in the chest and reader has to take care of him and patch him up. and like she decides to be a bitch now and she's like paying him back and she's not gentle at all like she's even rougher than needed just because 😆. but then in the middle of the night when she has to change his bandages she just softens because she's actually worried about him and he kisses her and it's like the first time he feels love in thousands years🥺❤️

✩₊˚.⋆ I HATE YOU - dabi/touya todoroki

CW: swearing, enemies to lovers, dabi being an asshole, y/n is stubborn, they lack communication skills but figure something out in the end lol, mentions of wound stitching, injuries, dabi's daddy issues, quirk usage, a lot of arguing. Word Count: 4.7k Author's Note: hii, sorry for taking so long to write this lol. my schedule was busy as hell. i hope you all enjoy it tho! ty for reading and if you have any requests for me to write, send it in!

"hate."

it was a word that held so much meaning and although y/n wasn't the type to feel it for many things, as she looked at the man standing in her doorframe with a bored expression as she laid in bed, it was all she could feel.

"what do you want touya? im tired." she groaned into her pillow. he rolled his eyes, shoving his hands into his pockets. "shigaraki wants us to take care of something for him." he said, making y/n shift to sit up and face him properly. "together?" she questioned. dabi didn't answer and that alone make y/n feel dread in the pit of her stomach. she stood, walking to her door and pushing past dabi to find shigaraki who was sitting in the lobby of their hideout.

"tomura, you seriously sending out touya and i? it's late."

"exactly." he muttered, glancing at y/n as dabi showed up behind her. "given your quirks, i need you two to cause a distraction for me in the city. I've gotta get something from a hero guarded area. it'd be less bothersome if a few of them had to focus a bigger situation."

y/n sighed at that. her ability allowed her to use the quirks others. once she makes physical contact with them, a pill is produced and once ingested, she is able to use their quirk for up to half an hour. "why can't he just do it on his own?"

"because it wont be enough, y/n. just go and don't let you guys' odd relationship fuck anything up."

she glared at shigaraki due to his stern tone and the words he said overall. she didn't speak another words and only walked towards the exit, leaving dabi behind. she began walking off, sighing when dabi caught up next to her.

they walked shoulder to shoulder and y/n reached for his hand to which he pulled away imeedietly. "the fuck is your deal?"

"my deal is that i need your quick. stop bitching."

he gave her a look that almost burned through her being itself. "fine, whatever. just make it quick."

with a swift movement, y/n grabbed his wrist, her fingers just brushing against his skin. she felt the pill form in her palm and quickly swallowed it after placing it on her tongue. for the next thirty minutes, she had full control over dabi's blue flames.

dabi shook off her touch as soon as the transfer was done, shoving his hands back into his pockets. "hope you can handle it."

y/n clenched her fists, feeling the raw power simmering just beneath the surface. "i can handle your little fire tricks just fine."

they continued walking in silence, the tension between them thick, both preparing for the chaos they were about to unleash. the city lights ahead glowed brighter as they approached, a signal that they were nearing their destination. heroes patrolled these streets regularly, and they needed to make their distraction count.

"you take the east side. i’ll take the west. we meet back here once it's done," y/n said, her voice steady despite the adrenaline starting to pump through her veins.

dabi gave her a lazy nod, his eyes scanning the area.  "don’t burn the place down too fast." she said, voice sharp with a stern tone.

“take your own damn advice,” dabi sneered, turning on his heel without another glance, heading toward his side of the city.

y/n scowled at his retreating figure before focusing on her own task. she approached a crowded intersection, raising her hand as the blue flames sparked to life at her fingertips. they burned cold, unnatural, just like dabi’s. with a sharp flick of her wrist, she sent the fire roaring down the street, igniting everything in its path. cars exploded, storefronts erupted into flames, and terrified screams echoed through the night air.

sirens blared almost immediately. she sighed in frustration. this mission wasn’t the problem; it was having to work alongside dabi. she hated the way his flames felt inside her—too raw, too unstable. she could handle it, but the discomfort gnawed at her.

on the other side of the city, she could see dabi causing just as much destruction. his blue flames lit up the night sky, and even from a distance, she could feel their heat. as much as she despised him, she couldn’t deny the sheer force of his quirk. their fires painted the city in an eerie blue glow, chaos unfolding just as shigaraki had planned. every hero in the area would soon be rushing their way.

but despite the destruction, y/n could feel the strain. her body wasn’t built to handle dabi’s flames for too long, and each second was like a slow burn from the inside out. she clenched her teeth, refusing to show any weakness. not in front of him. never in front of him.

as another car exploded in front of her, y/n felt the flames flare uncontrollably for a moment, forcing her to stumble back. she quickly reined them in, but the effort was draining. she could hear the distant thrum of footsteps—heroes were coming, and they needed to keep the distraction going.

without warning, dabi appeared beside her, his usual bored expression replaced by a smirk that only fueled her irritation. "you’re pushing it too hard," he remarked coldly.

"i’m fine," y/n snapped, her voice sharper than intended, though there was a slight tremor beneath it.

he cocked an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "doesn’t look like it. you’re burning out."

"i said i’m fine," she repeated, venom in her tone. she forced the flames to obey her, though her body screamed in protest.

before he could say anything more, the ground around them rumbled. the heat in the air intensified, and y/n’s heart sank as she saw who had arrived—endeavor.

out of all the heroes, of course, it had to be him.

endeavor’s flames blazed brighter than anything y/n had seen, casting long shadows across the wreckage. his eyes locked onto dabi and y/n, sharp with recognition and disgust. “enough,” he barked, his voice deep and commanding. “this ends now.”

dabi’s expression darkened, but the smirk that stretched across his face was nothing short of malicious.

y/n swallowed, the tension between father and son palpable in the air. she could feel dabi’s flames still swirling inside her, unstable and dangerous. they were running out of time. they needed to keep endeavor distracted long enough for shigaraki to finish the mission, but with the fire slipping out of her control, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold on.

dabi moved forward, the flames on his body flickering angrily as he faced his father head-on. "you gonna try and stop me? i’d love to see you fail. again."

y/n watched as the two squared off, the heat between them almost unbearable. she could feel the pressure mounting, knowing she had to act fast, but part of her was consumed by the sheer hatred radiating from dabi. it was so intense it was suffocating. he wants this fight, she realized.

but right now, they couldn’t afford it. not with the mission still in play.

"touya, focus," she hissed under her breath, stepping up beside him. "we’re not here for this."

he barely spared her a glance, his jaw clenched. “shut up, y/n. stay out of it.”

y/n glared at him, biting back the retort that bubbled in her throat. as much as she despised him, she wasn’t about to let him throw the entire mission away for some personal grudge.

endeavor’s flames flared even brighter, his voice booming as he addressed dabi directly. "you’re not walking away from this one."

"we’ll see about that," dabi said through a sigh.

before either of them could make a move, y/n raised her hand, sending up a barrier of blue flames between dabi and endeavor. the fire crackled wildly, the heat forcing both men to step back.

“touya, get your shit together,” she snapped, glaring at him. “this isn’t about you and him right now. we’ve got a job to finish.”

dabi’s eyes widened with fury, his body rigid with anger. "are you serious right now? stay out of this, y/n. this has nothing to do with you."

“it has everything to do with me,” she shot back, her voice low. “if you screw this up, we’re both dead.”

“i’m not screwing anything up,” dabi growled, stepping toward her, his flames flaring dangerously. “you think I’m gonna pass up a chance to burn that bastard?” he gestured toward endeavor, who stood on the other side of the wall, watching them closely. "this isn’t just about some stupid distraction. it’s him."

y/n’s hands trembled slightly from the strain of maintaining the flames, but she refused to back down. “you think i care about your daddy issues right now? i’m not dying because you’ve got something to prove.”

dabi’s smirk twisted into a sneer, his voice dripping with venom. "oh, now you’re concerned about dying? cute. you can’t even handle my flames, and you want to play hero? don’t act like you can lecture me."

y/n’s temper flared. "i can handle more than you think, but i’m not stupid enough to throw everything away for some pointless grudge! shigaraki will kill us if you mess this up."

“i don’t care what shigaraki does,” dabi snarled, stepping even closer, his body practically vibrating with heat. “you think I’m afraid of him? of you? you’re out of your league, y/n. stay the hell out of my way.”

---

"touya, lets go!" she shouted. a few long minutes had passed by and both dabi and endeavor suffered injuries. y/n thought that it was just her eyes playing tricks on her, but it wasn’t. there on dabi’s chest was a large gash that spilled blood with every movement he made.

dabi didn’t even flinch, seemingly blinded by his rage. his eyes were locked onto endeavor, and the hatred burned hotter than the flames between them. y/n’s heart pounded in her chest. if they didn’t leave now, it would be too late.

“touya!” she screamed again, but her voice was lost in the roar of the fire and the madness of the fight. dabi was deaf to everything around him. his focus, his obsession with his father, drowned out any reason or sense.

just then, her phone buzzed in her pocket. she fumbled for it, hands shaking, and saw a message from

shigaraki: get out of there now. i’m done here.

her stomach dropped. they needed to leave. now.

she looked back at dabi, her gut twisting with panic. there was no way he could handle another attack in his state. endeavor was gearing up for something big—his flames surging brighter and hotter, ready to end this once and for all.

y/n didn’t even think; she reacted. she reached for dabi’s flames still coursing through her and launched herself forward. her body screamed in protest, the quirk tearing through her reserves, but she unleashed a massive wave of blue fire directly at endeavor. it wasn’t just dabi’s quirk she was using—she’d stored another teleportation quirk earlier in the week just in case. with a strained breath, she activated it.

in an instant, the world blurred, and she and dabi were pulled through space, landing back at the league’s hideout.

they collapsed on the floor. y/n's vision swam as the overwhelming strain of using both quirks at once hit her like a truck. every muscle in her body felt like it was on fire.

dabi was up almost immediately, his eyes wild and furious. “what the hell did you do?!” he roared, looming over her, his chest heaving.

y/n didn’t flinch, didn’t even respond. she just sat there, catching her breath, her eyes glazed with exhaustion and a cold, blank expression on her face.

“why the hell would you—” dabi continued, his voice a mix of anger and something else, something more vulnerable. but y/n didn’t care.

she stood, her legs shaking but her face expressionless. she looked him dead in the eye, her voice barely above a whisper but filled with a venomous calm. "hate."

dabi paused, caught off guard by the single word. his eyes narrowed, but he stayed silent.

“it’s what you live for, isn’t it?” she continued, her voice as cold as the flames she had just wielded. “but it’s going to kill you. and you were too blinded to see it.”

the silence between them was suffocating, tension hanging in the air like the weight of all their unresolved fury and pain. dabi’s lips twisted into a bitter sneer, but he didn’t respond. he couldn’t, not with the truth staring him in the face.

y/n finally turned her back to him, her voice distant as she walked away. "i’m tired, touya. i don’t care anymore."

he didn’t respond and that was unlike him. and although she didn't want it to, she turned around to glance at him. he was clutching the wounded area of his chest, the blood coating his hands. y/n stopped in her tracks and watched as he held her gaze with a heavy glare. "what?" he groaned with less heat in his voice.

"nothi-"

"they got you good." shigaraki said as he entered through the front door. dabi remained silent and y/n let out a sigh. "told you this plan was stupid." she muttered. shigaraki shrugged, holding up some sort of vile in a glass tube. "got what i needed though. thanks."

y/n shook her head and walked over to a table in their hideout where a first aid kit remained. "come on, touya." he never said a word despite their previous argument and the heated tension that remained between them and only followed behind y/n. this was surprising to her and even shigaraki. instead of questioning it though, she just decided to let it be, grateful for the silence.

they got to a nearby bathroom in the hideout, and y/n motioned for dabi to sit on the edge of the sink. "take off your shirt," she ordered, her voice flat, though she couldn’t help the slight irritation lacing her tone. dabi raised an eyebrow but said nothing, peeling off his tattered shirt to reveal the nasty gash on his chest. the wound was deep, the blood still seeping through the cracks of his burned skin.

“so fucking reckless” y/n muttered underneath her breath as she grabbed some antiseptic and gauze from the first aid kit. she didn’t wait for a response before starting to clean the wound, her hands rougher than necessary. dabi hissed in pain but didn’t pull away.

“watch it,” he growled, but there was no real heat in his words. his eyes, usually filled with spite or disinterest, softened for a brief moment as he looked at her. something shifted in his expression, like an apology he wasn’t quite ready to say aloud. instead, he settled for his usual sarcasm. "you don’t have to be so damn rough."

"oh, i’m sorry," y/n replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm as she pressed a little harder than needed on the wound. "is the fireproof bastard too delicate for a little first aid? if you didn’t want to get patched up, you shouldn’t have gone toe-to-toe with endeavor.

"i didn’t ask for your help, did i?"

"no, you didn’t. but here we are," y/n snapped, stitching up the wound with more force than was probably necessary. her fingers worked quickly, efficiently, but there was no gentleness in her touch.

dabi’s breath hitched as she tugged at the stitches. "you’re enjoying this way too much."

“maybe,” y/n replied, not looking up from her work. “or maybe i’m just pissed off because you almost got yourself killed. again.”

the room fell into a tense silence, only broken by dabi’s sharp breaths and the sound of her sewing needle pulling through his skin. but when y/n finally looked up, she caught dabi’s gaze. his eyes were softer now, not filled with the usual defiance. instead, there was something different in them, something almost… regretful.

“what?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. "you’re staring."

“nothing,” dabi muttered, but he didn’t look away. his voice, usually laced with sarcasm or anger, was quieter now. he held her gaze for a moment longer. it wasn’t filled with the usual hate or resentment, but something else entirely. it almost looked like an apology, unspoken but there. maybe he realized just how close he’d come to death, and for once, wasn’t pushing her away.

after the final stitch, y/n wrapped the wound tightly, her hands no longer rough but steady. she didn’t say anything for a moment, just focusing on her work, and when she was done, she stood back, her eyes meeting his again. the air between them felt heavy, like there was something unspoken lingering just beneath the surface.

“you’re a reckless idiot,” she muttered, shaking her head, though her voice was softer, the anger dissipating into something more resigned.

dabi’s expression faltered, and for a moment, he just looked at her, his usual sharp retorts gone. "guess i am," he said quietly, a hint of exhaustion in his voice. "but you still patched me up, didn’t you?"

y/n crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes. "only because i wasn’t going to let you bleed out like an idiot. someone’s gotta keep you alive."

there was a beat of silence before dabi let out a breath, leaning his head back against the wall. “guess i should thank you.”

y/n scoffed. “don’t bother. just… try not to get yourself killed next time.”

dabi’s eyes flickered to hers again, and this time, there was no sarcasm or sneer, just a tired acceptance. “i’ll try.” his tone was surprisingly sincere, catching her off guard. she blinked, taken aback, but instead of saying anything, she just grabbed the bloodied cloths and turned to leave. "get some rest," she muttered, not looking back.

for once, dabi didn’t argue.

---

it was the middle of the night, and despite the quiet that had settled over the hideout, y/n couldn’t sleep. no matter how many times she turned over in bed, sleep evaded her. the events from earlier kept playing over in her mind, along with the way dabi had been uncharacteristically silent after she patched him up.

with a frustrated sigh, she finally gave up on resting and pushed herself out of bed. maybe checking on dabi would settle her thoughts. his injuries needed to be looked at again anyway, and the bandages likely needed changing. she grabbed the first aid kit and padded softly down the hall toward his room.

when she got there, the door was slightly ajar. peeking inside, she saw him lying on the bed, his defined back rising and falling with the steady rhythm of sleep. for a moment, she hesitated. dabi was never one to sleep deeply, always waking up at the slightest noise or movement. but his bandages had to be changed, and she didn’t trust him to do it himself.

quietly, she slipped into the room, closing the door softly behind her. she approached the bed, taking a seat on the edge as carefully as she could to avoid waking him. he was still, his usual guarded expression replaced by something softer in sleep. for a brief second, she allowed herself to just watch him. he always seemed so hardened, so untouchable, but like this... he looked almost human.

gently, y/n reached for the blood-stained bandages wrapped around his chest, her fingers working carefully to undo them. she peeled the old wrappings away, revealing the wound beneath. she grabbed fresh bandages from the kit, preparing to rewrap him, her movements slow and deliberate.

just as she began to wind the bandage around him again, dabi stirred. his eyes snapped open, instantly alert, and his hand shot out to grab her wrist before she could move any further. “what the hell are you doing?” he growled, his voice low and raspy from sleep.

y/n froze, meeting his gaze, her heart skipping a beat. "relax, it’s just me," she said quietly. "im checking to see if your stitches held and I've gotta change your bandages."

he blinked, still groggy but releasing her wrist. his grip loosened, and he leaned back against the pillow, eyes narrowing slightly but without the usual hostility. "im not a child. i can do that myself,” he muttered, though there wasn’t much bite to his words.

"i know, but you looked like you were going to bleed out earlier so forgive me for double-checking." she retorted, continuing to wrap the fresh bandages around his chest. her touch was gentle but firm, and dabi didn’t stop her this time, watching her work in silence.

"always playing the martyr, huh?" he mumbled after a long pause, his voice quieter now. "not a martyr. just realistic. you're reckless and you know it."

dabi was silent as she finished up. he sat up once she was done and watched as she placed the items back into the first aid kit. "why are you up so late anyways?"

"couldn’t sleep." she shrugged. dabi raised a questioning brow and she shrugged. "you expect me to sleep after everything that happened today?"

"causing chaos isn't something that you haven't done before though." he hummed, watching as she compiled all of the used bandage together to throw away. "but watching you almost get yourself killed was."

"you really care that much?"

y/n lowered her eyes at him and shook her head in pure disbelief. "no shit, touya. why would i have teleported us home? stitch up your wound, and even hours later, i come back to check on you. you sound so fucking selfish right now." she stood up, turning to walk away, but dabi reached for her wrist.

he caught it just in time, letting out a small groan from the swift movement. "what the fuck, touya. be careful." she said, placing the first aid kit down and a hand to his back. "im not selfish."

"really?" she deadpanned. "y/n, you've hated me ever since i joined the league. understand me when i get confused on whether or not you actually give a fuck when it comes to me." he ran is palm down his face, trying to fight his exhaustion.

"i can say the same for you." y/n spoke.

"i only return the attitude that's given to me." dabi said, staring at y/n as she tried to read his features but he gave her nothing to work with other than an emotionless expression. "i don't hate you."

"so what do you feel, y/n? you're not making sense."

she stared at him and they held eye contact. y/n let down whatever guards she had up in hopes that dabi can read what she was trying to tell him. he was good at that whether she liked it or not. "say it." he finally said. y/n figured that he got the idea in just mere seconds.

"no." she shook her head with a scoff. "i hate the fact that i feel it for you anyways. I'm not going to speak it into reality."

dabi’s grip on y/n’s wrist loosened as he let out a low chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “you really think not saying it makes a difference? you’ve already given yourself away, y/n.”

y/n’s eyes flashed with irritation. “you don’t get it. saying it makes it real, and i can’t deal with that right now.”

dabi scoffed, leaning back on the bed, his eyes narrowing as he looked up at her. “oh, spare me the drama. you think i don’t know how you feel? you act like you’re the only one here who’s conflicted.”

y/n glared at him, yanking her wrist free. “conflicted? you? you barely even acknowledge when people care about you. you’re reckless with your life, like nothing matters, and you think i’m the one being dramatic?” her voice rose, frustration bubbling over.

dabi sat up straighter, his gaze sharp and unyielding. “don’t pretend like you’ve been so open about your feelings either, y/n. you’ve spent most of your time pushing me away or acting like you couldn’t care less. and now, when it actually matters, you wanna play the martyr?”

her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “i’m not playing anything, touya! you’re impossible to deal with. you push everyone away, you never let anyone in, and now you have the nerve to act like i’m the problem?”

dabi’s expression hardened, his eyes flashing with anger. “you really think you’ve got me all figured out, huh? like you’re the only one who’s allowed to have their guard up? newsflash, y/n, you’re not as mysterious as you think.”

y/n’s frustration boiled over as she crossed her arms and shot him a withering glare. “then what do you want from me, touya? huh? what is it you actually want? because all you ever do is act like nothing gets to you!”

dabi stood up abruptly, towering over her as the tension between them thickened. “you think it’s easy for me to be like this? you think i enjoy pushing people away?” his voice was low, dangerous, his eyes blazing with a mix of frustration and something else y/n couldn’t quite place.

her heart pounded in her chest, but she refused to back down. “then stop doing it! stop acting like you don’t care about anyone or anything!”

“i care more than you think!” dabi snapped, taking a step closer. “but you—you’re always so busy pretending you don’t want this, like it’s all some burden for you!”

y/n’s pulse quickened, her frustration and confusion mounting. “i never said i didn’t want—”

before she could finish, dabi’s hands shot up to either side of her face, pulling her in roughly. his lips crashed against hers with a sudden, fierce intensity that stole the breath from her lungs. the kiss was aggressive, meant to shut her up, and y/n’s mind went blank as every thought evaporated under the force of it.

her body reacted before she could process what was happening, her hands gripping the front of his shirt, pulling him closer even as her heart raced with the shock of it all.

dabi’s lips moved against hers, demanding and relentless, and she found herself kissing him back just as fiercely, pouring all her pent-up anger and frustration into the kiss. it was heated, messy, and full of everything they couldn’t say out loud.

he pulled back for a brief moment, their breaths mingling as he muttered, “you talk too damn much.”

before she could respond, he kissed her again, cutting off any retort she might’ve had. his hands slid from her face to her waist, gripping her tightly as if he couldn’t stand to let her go. the anger between them melted into something else entirely—something raw and consuming.

y/n’s heart hammered in her chest as she kissed him back, her hands finding their way to his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair. the argument, the tension, all of it faded into the background as they lost themselves in the intensity of the moment.

when they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathless, their foreheads resting against each other. dabi’s grip on her waist remained firm as he stared down at her, his expression softening just slightly.

“maybe i don’t want you to shut up,” he muttered, his voice low and rough, “but you make it hard to think.”

y/n’s lips parted, still swollen from the kiss, her breath coming in shallow bursts. “then maybe you should start listening,” she whispered, her voice shaky but steady.

dabi let out a low chuckle, his thumb brushing lightly against her hip. “yeah, maybe.” his voice dropped even lower as he added, “but that doesn’t mean i’m done shutting you up.”

with that, he pulled her back into another kiss, this one slower but no less intense, as if he was determined to make sure she knew exactly how he felt, even if neither of them were ready to say the words just yet.

she pulled back for a breath, her forehead meeting with his shoulder as she closed her eyes.

"i hate you, touya."

"then hate me more."

got a request? send it in and i'll write it :D

Taglist: @nemoo888 @delicatexmoonchild @flowerpjimin @tedcruzumakii @sugacor3 @selysixn @mitsuyas-version @matchaismylove @cyberrthegreat @ivydoesit23 @riririntaro @ilovechickfilasauce @sincerelyzee @daydreamteardrop @satorusluvrgirl @tired-jaz

[redr0sewrites]

❤️‍🩹A/n: i love him. again, more shameless, filthy filthy smut. he must suffer the wrath of my period hormones.

❤️‍🩹Cw: smut, sub!inexperienced!shigaraki, fem!dom!reader, fluff, riding, overstim, praise, humiliation kink, very mild voyeurism

pretty.

all Shigaraki could think about as you bounced up and down on his cock was just how pretty you look. your cheeks were flushed and your pupils blown out like a dog in heat, and yet somehow you still held control over him like he was some precious mutt you'd managed to tame- and fuck did he enjoy it. and by the looks of it, so did you.

"you having fun down there pretty boy? wonder what the others would think, seeing their mighty leader mewling like a bitch in heat over getting to fuck a real pussy for the first time," theres a teasing lilt to your voice that makes him shiver, yet he presses into the hand that cups his face regardless. he nods, and you coo, babying him like he's some sort of exotic pet. his cock twitches at the thought- he'll unpack that later.

"aw, you enjoying yourself? bet the real thing's ssso much better than some cheap replica, hm? were you that desperate to fuck me, tomura?" you nod your head in the direction of the sex toy, long since discarded in favor of you riding him.

his head is far too fuzzy to reply, so he settles for nodding desperately, too lost in the pleasure to even form a cohesive sentence.

"answer me, Tomura."

your voice rings out commanding and cold as the hand that had been cupping his face so gently grips his hair harshly, wrenching his head back to expose his neck.

"or do you want me to stop?"

"mmngh,, no! nno ma'am," he slurs, whimpering as you press sloppy kisses to his now exposed neck.

"aw, good boy Tomura. and you- ffuck, used your manners too! guess that calls for a reward, don't you think?"

you nibble at the junction of his collarbone, testing to see how much he reacts before biting down hard. Shigaraki lets out an uncharacteristic whimper, tugging at the restraints holding his hands to the bedposts above him. he made it clear that this was a definite condition of sleeping with him- he wanted there to be absolutely no chance that he could accidentally hurt you with his quirk, especially since he's so inexperienced. it was both sad, and a little cute, how much he cared about your safety when he was the one being fucked absolutely senseless!

a sharp role of his hips causes a stuttered whine to slip past your lips, quickly swallowed by Shigaraki in a deep kiss. teeth and tongue clash together as you finally kiss him on the lips, and he strains to meet you halfway.

"please," he gasps into your mouth, and you take the opportunity to brush away the pale hair sticking to his forehead from sweat so that you can see his eyes. "please, i've been so good.." he trails off , looking up at you pleadingly.

you smile before pulling him in to another kiss, while your hands slam down on his chest, forcing him into the mattress. Tomura mewls beneath you, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes as you ride him with newfound fury. you fondle his chest as you kiss him dizzy, one hand pinches a nipple between two fingers while the other trails down to feel each twitch of his stomach as you ride him.

"you have been good, baby. i said i would reward you, didn't i? you wanna cum, don't you?" if Tomura had a tail, you were quite sure it would be wagging right now. he stares up at you with glazed, lust filled eyes and nods fervently. Shigaraki's back arches as you begin to pick up your pace, and he's nearly drooling as he watches your chest bounce witn each roll of your hips. his thighs shudder as you rise up until your nearly hovering over him, before slamming back down onto his cock. his mushroom tip reaches your g spot with ease, and you can feel your own orgasm building up as well.

"you close, honey?" you rasp, cupping his face and slowing down so that you can savor each roll of your hips. you practically have each ridge and vein of his cock memorized, and he twitches inside you as his tip ever so lightly nudges your cervix.

"mngh- mhm!" he responds eagerly, throwing his head back into the soft pillows and once again giving you access to his neck. you happily oblige, sucking a few more dark marks into his skin. your teeth against his flesh makes him tremble, and he lets out a sharp gasp as his orgasm approaches without warning.

"o-oh ffuck, gonna!" Shigaraki moans, and his cock twitches once, twice, three times inside you. "gonna cum pretty boy? c'mon, doing so good f'me," you whisper in his ear before pressing a wet kiss to his neck. yojr praise sends him tumbling over the edge, and Tomura lets out a string of fumbling curses before cumming inside. for a few seconds he continues rolling his hips, fucking his release deeper inside of you, and its the feeling of him filling you up that makes the coil in your stomach snap. you gush around him, clenching and moaning wantonly as your orgasm washes over you.

you continue rutting against him for a few more seconds, prolonging your high before collapsing against his chest in a heap of sweat and exhaustion. Shigaraki whines beneath you as he pulls out, and you roll to the side before removing his restraints. he rubs his sore wrists, and you take the opportunity to nuzzle in close, burying your head into his neck.

"that was... really nice," you mumble, and he hums in response, embarrassment preventing him from replying.

"maybe.. we could do it again sometime?" you ask, and Shigaraki pulls away to look at you. for a split second, he looks almost... hopeful, before his usual facade returns.

"if that's what you want," he grumbles, but returns to holding you regardless.

"definitely." you reply, before slotting yourself against is bare body.

"do you mind if i stay the night, Tomura?"

"..no, i guess not."

CRYING SCREAMING I NEED HIM SO BAD HES SOOOOO. second to touya he's the loml fr 😭😭😭

[a-ikuoliver]

w/c: 1.0k tw: nsfw, death threats, choking, kinda fear play, f!reader, smut, porn without plot, sukuna doesn't care for you, rough sex, i'm just rlly horny sorry notes: no one look at me this is the filthiest thing i've ever written i think but also this is @papersirens and @t-tomuras faults for encouraging me to write darker things LMAO (ilysm)

the bedframe shakes, slamming rhythmically against the wall, a harsh thud echoing through the wall with every move of the enormous man above you, another blow landing against the painted surface when his hips meet yours. if it weren't for the bed bouncing against it, the only noise echoing through the room would be the tacky sound of slick skin slapping again and again, the disgustingly lewd sound of your cunt swallowing sukuna's cock, almost sounding like it was your mouth slurping around the length instead of your pussy.

you think you've lost feeling in your legs, your toes tingling after his relentless, sadistic teasing, your toes and legs curling and tensing around nothing countless times tonight already, his thick fingers pinching and tugging and stroking and pulling and prodding to work you up until you're about to tip over the edge. always pausing when your eyelids flutter and your toes tense, when your fingers dug into sukuna's wrist and you panted his name. your muscles soon too fatigued to continue squeezing and releasing his frame, a weak twitch all you were capable of.

with your lethargic state, sukuna adjusts you easily, one calloused hand firmly holding your thigh around his hip, your heel bumping his thigh as he shifted your body, his other dragging dull nails down the length of your leg to your ankle before bringing it over his shoulder.

this is his favourite part of fucking you, of working you up endlessly to never follow through; the dull, aching pain of his hands aggressively squeezing the fat of your thigh tearing out only a whimper from your pretty lips, none of your usual whining, no complaining of it hurts, kuna, you were at his mercy, your pliable frame perfect for him to pinch and prod at until he was eliciting the highest whimpers and whines from your pretty mouth.

your legs dangle helplessly where sukuna has placed them, the muscles occasionally twitching and tensing around his sculped frame when he swipes a finger over your sensitive clit, the poor nub pulsing as blood rushed in your ears after hours of torment, practically torturing you before he'd even stripped down to his final layer of clothing.

the change of positions welcomes a new sensation, one you'd been begging for an hour ago, the addictive drag of his cock sinking in and out of your drooling, aching hole, your pussy moulding to every ridge and vein as he pulls you closer by your hips, until his cock is nestled against your cervix. sukuna knows how uncomfortable you are at this angle, how deep his cock is, he knows it feels like its in your throat with how you choke on your moan, it only makes his blood run hotter, his cock pulsing harder with every squirm of you beneath him, wriggling and writhing as you searched for a comfort he'd never allow you to find with you trapped beneath him.

after a long moment of rutting against you, his palm pressed hard to the wall, steadying himself above you, he sits back on his knees, dropping his thick hand from the head of the bed. instead, he decides to stabilise himself by looping his hand around your neck, his fingers closing around your damp neck, settling against your wild pulse.

"'kun-na," your voice breaks at a particularly hard thrust, blood red eyes flitting from staring at your cunt to your face, his fingers tightening around your throat, half to hold your head upward, half to watch the way your dewy, doe eyes widen every time he does it.

he can't lie, he adores the way you look beneath him, obsessed with having you trapped under his imposing form. god, he loves that helpless look on your face more, when his fingers so much as twitch against the column of your throat, like he's made your blood turn to ice with fear. there's a flash of sharp incisors at the thought of your body paralysed in fear, his cock pulsing inside you seeing your eyelids flutter, your eyes beginning to roll back.

"what? spit it out."

your mouth parts, rhythmic ah-ah-ah's tumbling from your lips, trying your hardest to recover enough to finish your sentence, to keep your eyes trained on him, swallowing a hiccup, you continue, "you're gon-na—"

sukuna really can't help himself, not when you look like that, your tongue lolling uselessly in your mouth, your eyebrows furrowing at the centre. his canines shine in the light streaming through the windows, a mean, condescending pout on his lips at your broken voice. your hand comes up to settle at his on your neck, holding his wrist as you squirmed, your cunt fluttering around him, squeezing tighter and tighter the harder he fucked you, the harder he squeezed.

"i'm g-g-g-gonna what?" he mocks, lips curled in a snarl, his nose pressing to your cheek as he folds you harshly, pushing your thigh higher onto his shoulder, "think i'm gonna hurt you? hm?"

your eyes flash, they look wet, like you've been brought to tears at his mean tone, at the merciless pace he's set, the sensation of his cockhead bumping painfully against your cervix anytime he moved like he was trying to displace your organs, to mould them around his shape.

"gonna kill you?" his tone drops, a sinister lilt the lower his voice got. your thighs squeeze around him as a breathless, silent sob wracks your body, shaking your chest as you spread milky white cum down the length of his cock, "i might."

if he cared enough, he'd slow down, let you catch your breath before he presses his bodyweight into you, pinning you down uncomfortably. if he cared, he'd actually let you recover before he squeezed the sides of your throat, two tacky fingers expertly rubbing at your clit until you squeezed around him again, your mouth falling open in what he thinks would be a scream, if you could, if you had any oxygen left in your lungs.

© all works belong to @a-ikuoliver, @gwen0m, and dlirious on archive of our own, do not plagiarise, translate, repost, feed my works into ai or recommend my work on other platforms, or bind my fanworks for sale.

[splishfish]

Share (NSFW)

Tomura Shigaraki x AFAB Reader x Dabi

Tags: Threesome, Oral (M. Recieving), PiV, Slight Degradation, Tomura being an asshole

WC: 728

“Oh c’mon Tomu! Don’t you know that sharing is caring?”

Tomura was never a fan of sharing. No. He hated sharing. Why should he ever have to share something that’s his? Why did he have to give up something he worked for, something he probably had to put effort into? Tomura Shigaraki hates sharing.

So when you came along, and your relationship began to progress, he was damn near infuriated when you tried to get him to share.

Share his clothes, his food, his pc…it was pissing him off. Who did you think you were? Sure, you were his partner, but that didn’t mean you had the right to change him. Why would he ever need to share? He’s a fucking villain for fucks sake! The Symbol Of Fear!

If that wasn’t enough to piss him off, when you started sharing his stuff with others…hah. He was Livid. 

That was his shit. Why on earth were you handing out his shit like you owned it!? Ahh…he was so pissed off…He swears the only reason he even put up with you was because he loved you.

Tomura Shigaraki doesn’t share. No. He takes what he wants and he isn’t going to let go. Everything was going to be his in the end, and when that happened, he had no plans to share. 

He didn’t know he was at his breaking point until he finally snapped. You were so annoying. So insistent. So Stupid. 

It happened the night before. Sitting in bed together, his eyes were trained onto the bright tv screen. It was playing some random film he couldn’t be bothered to care about. Something you picked. In his hands was a bag of chips, a welcome distraction from the boring film in front of him.

He loudly chewed on the corn chips, dust flavoring coating his fingers as he reached into the bag. He had hardly heard you when you spoke, but when he did, he couldn’t help the scowl from forming on his face. “Hey, can I have some?” “No. Go get your own.”

He was pretty sure he growled at you when your hand attempted to slip into the bag. He glared at you, moving the bag of chips away from you. He knew he was being childish, but why did he need to share his chips?

“Oh c’mon Tomu! Don’t you know that sharing is caring?”

Huh? Huh? Huh?

Ah. Haha. There’s no way right? Right? 

He stared at you, the way your lips curled into a sweet smile, your eyes gleaming happily as you snagged a few chips from his bag while he grew distracted with your idiotic words.

Sharing is caring. Sharing is caring. Fine. You wanted him to share so badly? Then he’ll share.

It’s how he ended up here, his cock snuggly pumping in and out of your fluttering hole, and his dear companion Dabi, eagerly fucking your mouth. 

The lewd sounds of flesh meeting flesh echoed throughout the room, your muffled moans and gags occasionally interrupted the small sounds of both men grunting in pleasure. Ah. He’s gonna cum.

His hips moved faster, one of his hands gripping your waist as the other moved up to grip your shoulder, fucking you on his cock as if you were a toy. He giggled, ignoring the other man’s presence as he spoke to you.

“Haha…you enjoy this don’t you? Being used like some toy! I bet that’s why you’ve been nagging me so much recently…wanted this pretty cunt to be shared like some cum dump!”

He giggled as your muffled whines grew louder, a deep blush on your face as you gagged against Dabi’s cock. He remained silent throughout Tomura’s murmurings, though the smirk on his face seemed to grow as Tomura began to degrade you.

Panting as his cock twitched inside you, Tomura grinned, a chuckle escaping him.

”Don’t worry…this is what you wanted right? To be shared? That’s why you’ve been nagging me all day and night! Ahh…”

He giggled, his balls tightening up as a line of drool escaping his lips. The unbearably hot sensation of your walls clenching around him made his hips stutter, finally spilling his load deep into your hole. He continued to giggle as he pathetically rocked his hips into you, drawing out his orgasm.“Sharing is caring huh…? I guess that means you won’t mind if Dabi takes a turn back here too…”

[mamayan]

i’m here for my reward

can shiggy please piss in my mouth 🙏🏼

thank you yannie ♡

Are you sure you don’t want the kidney too? One incel depraved Shiggy comin’ up♡ Tbh I’ve had this fantasy for a while in my keep for later box. Might expand upon later for all his kinks!

☆彡Game Time★彡

Shigaraki Tomura x Fem! Reader

CW: Incel Gamer Shiggy • NSFW • Piss Swallowing • Piss Kink • Oral (M) • Degradation (F) • Humiliation (F) • Sub! Reader • DubCon (¿) • Praise (F) • Masturbation (F) • Shiggy is a disgusting dirtbag whom I love ♡

The clicking of the controller was beginning to grate on your nerves.

Your eyes left the phone screen in your hand, tracking his form hunched over in his gaming chair. He hadn’t moved in nearly five hours, still in the same position as when you’d returned home.

Clicking your tongue, you decided it was up to you to save his spine. Only thing that could pull him from this new game was either sex or a blowjob. You still ached from last night, his handling ruthless as he fucked his frustration out on you.

Not that you minded.

Slipping from the bed and your warm cocoon, you padded over stained carpet and kicked aside a few leftover takeout containers to reach his perch in front of the Tv. The room dark without the bright HD flat screen illuminating the space with whatever zombie horror game he was playing. His dark hoodie pulled over his greasy locks, his sweat pants low on his hips with his feet glued to the chair. He couldn’t have been comfortable, but it hardly mattered as you dropped to your knees in front of his chair, not blocking the screen. Least you incur his rage for making him lose.

He’s already lost a multitude of times now, frustration mounting similarly to yesterday, but with a renewed vigor to beat this level.

Even with your pretty face trying to get between his legs, he hardly acknowledges you. When your soft hands reach for his waist band, he’s even helpful in allowing you to tug them down. Normally he’d have glanced down by now, taken in your sultry gaze and sneered. His eyes remain glued to the screen, hands deftly moving as he actually begins advancing.

You’re sold. Happily gripping his half hard cock in your hands, giving a few pumps as he begins to swell fully, girth and length growing under your touch. You know better than to tease him, not now at least. You don’t hesitate to lean into his lap, his torso straightening to allow you closer. Your wet hot mouth breathing over his twitching reddened cock head, the musk and sweat from gaming all day without moving not the most pleasant. It doesn’t matter, your tongue flicking out to lick from the base, over a thick vein which runs from under his shaft, and up to the soft head where you swirl over the slit. Drooling over his cock and slicking him up nicely, earning a low groan and grunt as you swallow half of him. He doesn’t buck or force you further, and you’re even more emboldened as you slowly begin to work him in your mouth, flattening your tongue and allowing your breathing to lengthen. Taking deeper breathes in and slowly letting it out as you finally feel a low burn in your throat as your lips touch wiry deep blue pubic hair. Your nose nuzzling in as you finally take him completely into your throat.

Normally he’d ruin it. Push your head or grind too deep and force you up to cough and suck in air while panicked.

He seems too focused and concentrated to bother with you though, and it’s a good opportunity to enjoy giving him head instead of fighting not to pass out while he face fucks you. Languidly letting your tongue move around his cock, you begin a rhythmic bobbing motion, finding a calmness to this sort of intimacy. It even has your cunt throbbing, thighs rubbing together as you greedily allow a hand to slip into your underwear. It’s enough to have you moaning as you collect your own arousal to slick your clit and softly roll around it. Building your own release as you did his, happy to really take him deep as he huffs and pants above you. The way he’s leaning doesn’t allow you to look up, and with his thighs spread on either side of your head, it’s hard to pay attention to anything but his dick in your throat.

Your moans and whimpers aren’t dismissed by Tomura though. He’s quite aware you’re getting yourself off like some sort of cam slut while taking his cock in your filthy mouth. He knows you’re shaking your dripping cunt and shoving your fingers inside, but he’s winning right now, shockingly able to focus better as he feels his cock twitch in your tight contracting throat.

“Fuck— don’t think of stopping slut, you better take my load straight into your stomach— hhsss,” he hisses in pleasure and irritation as his balls tighten, your free hand moving to fondle and roll his nuts between your little fingers. His shoulders hunch, but his dark tired red eyes don’t even close anymore as he nears the close of his level. He’s sweating, jerking a bit but trying his damndest not to lose this fucking game again even as his lower stomach burns painfully for release. You’re not stupid enough to slow down either, working his slobbery cock between your lips and in your mouth much like the slut he calls you. Messily squelching and noisily sucking, nearly an ASMR for blowjobs for any loser listening in.

Your eyes water, his orgasm prolonged due to your initial slowness to enjoy the sensations of his cock, but you aren’t deterred as your own orgasm nears, your cunt nearly as loud as your mouth from how wet you are. Moving your hips just right, you struggle to push your own fingers just deep enough to rub where you want them, to stretch yourself out enough to really feel it. If Tomura bothered to look down, he’s see a debauched and beautiful sight, your soaked face and watery eyes desperately trying to swallow his cock while you get yourself off.

“That’s it, ugh, dumb mouth is good for something huh? Fuck I’m gonna cum, fuck, fuck, fuck—,” his teeth are gritted, face nearly enraged as his eyes pop wide and lips tear a little at the corners, not realizing he’d been drooling while panting. His eyes don’t move from the screen even as you yelp, his thighs moving to wrap around your head and face as he shifts his hips up to push too deep down your throat. His feet act like a vice lock around your neck.

Gagging you as your tears leak like a broken fountain, trying to shake your head or pull away.

He cums harder than he ever has before, the burning in his cock making his own eyes water, but still his hands don’t stop until he finally enters through a save portal. He’s laughing now, his game saving as he finally beats this shitty level, finally allowing his eyes to look down as your hands pathetically try to push him off so you can breathe.

Your eyes are open and reddened, snot and tears running down your face and ruining your mascara. You’re a pitiful sight for sore eyes.

“Haha! What’s wrong whore? You wanted this! Who put my fucking cock in your mouth huh?!” He’s elated, moaning and humping your face while he sets his controller aside to dig his hands into the torn armrest cushion as he empties his balls into your stomach.

“Fuck I gotta piss, fuck fuck, you’d like that wouldn’t you? Huh? I can’t fucking hear you!”

“Mngh!!” You can’t get away, not even mindful of biting down as you feel your throat beginning to throb in a burning pain, already having swallowed all of his cum.

“You wanna drink my piss slut? Fuck you do, don’t you? Haha! Okay Princess, anything for you~” He’s manic, so high from the harsh orgasm and delayed gratification of beating this level. It’s a bit odd at first, feeling your warm tight throat around him not his usual comfort as he unloads, but he relaxes quick enough as he moans, eyes rolling back as he begins to piss down your throat.

Like his hot cum, this wretched load goes straight into your stomach, and you’re unable to stop the cough which chokes his dick and yourself as Tomura finally unlocks his legs. His quick grip in your hair prevents you from escaping as he holds his semi-limp dick cackling, you’re helpless as you finally drag in air through your mouth, as his rancid piss hits your tongue and face. You’re forced to swallow more as you feel your lungs burning even now.

“Look at you Princess! Finally got ya that new moisturizer!” He only finds it hilarious, breathing heavily as he finishes all over your body. His eyes track down your sorry figure, landing on your hand still shoved down your pants and moving.

Your shudder and gargled noises finally stopping as you go limp against his thigh, resting as you pant and twitch.

“Dirty little slut, did my piss push you over? Fuck that’s hot, hey,” a tap against your face has your eyes wearily looking up.

He looks insane.

“Let’s do that again, this time I want you to piss on me while you cum.” His smile makes fear and anticipation blossom inside your stomach.

[doumadono]

Hey, I think the autumn depression is starting to hit me hard. Could I request a piece where Dabi and Tomura react to the reader wearing a hoodie with their faces on it? The hoodie is themed after them or smth like that. Thanks in advance, I love your writing < 3

A/N: the artworks featured on this banner were commissioned by me from @explosion-island ♡

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST - PART 2

Tomura Shigaraki

Tomura doesn’t notice at first. He’s too busy clicking his controller, red eyes glued to the screen as his fingers twitch with that signature mix of intensity and irritation.

You wander into the room wearing the hoodie - a soft gray thing with his face emblazoned across the front in a chaotic design that almost looks hand-drawn. Red streaks, a distorted Decay handprint, and his glare immortalized in high contrast. You swear you can feel him in the artwork, sharp and raw.

“Tomura,” you call, tugging at the hem like you’re self-conscious but trying not to show it. “What do you think?”

“What?” He doesn’t even look, just mutters distractedly. The clicks grow louder. “You’re blocking the-”

Then his eyes flicker over, and the game is forgotten. His head tilts as his lips part slightly, not quite forming words. He stares, red irises narrowing in disbelief, then widening like he’s been thrown off his axis.

“… The hell is that?” His tone wavers between incredulity and disbelief, a hand twitching at his side like he’s considering scratching his neck but resists.

You don’t answer, only twirl dramatically to show off the back, which boasts King of Decay in jagged, white letters over black fabric. You bite your lip to keep from laughing outright, but his reaction - jaw tight, eyes narrowing - is worth every second.

“Got it custom-made. Pretty cool, huh?”

Tomura doesn’t say anything. He leans back into the couch cushions, arms crossing as his expression sharpens. “It’s stupid,” he mutters, almost too quietly. “Why would you wear something like that?”

You don’t miss the way his knuckles twitch against his sleeves, betraying how flustered he is. “Because it’s you, obviously,” you reply, stepping closer. “Why, don’t you like it?”

He growls low in his throat, almost defensive. “I didn’t say that.”

“You think it’s cute,” you tease, leaning down slightly, your grin unstoppable.

He shifts uncomfortably, cheeks tinged faintly pink. “Shut up. Go sit down or something, you’re annoying. Still can't believe you've bought it.”

You grin, stepping into his space. “Oh, I didn’t just buy it. I commissioned it.”

He snorts, shaking his head in something like exasperation, but the faintest flicker of color rises to his cheeks. “You’re such an idiot, Y/N,” he mutters, though his lips twitch like he’s holding back a smile.

“And you love it,” you shoot back, adjusting the hoodie’s oversized hood to frame your face. “Admit it, Tomura - it’s iconic.”

His gaze flits over the ridiculous design again, his lips parting as if to argue, but he only sighs.

But later, as you sit beside him, his hand creeps over the edge of your hoodie, tugging gently at the fabric between his fingers. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t look your way.

Yet when you catch him glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, it’s not annoyance you see - it’s something softer, like he’s not sure how to admit he likes it.

"Admit you like it!" You tease.

Shigaraki sighs again, a fleeting touch against the sleeve as he rubs you there. “Next time,” he says softly, barely audible, “get me one, too, my little number one fan.”

Dabi

You hear him before you see him - his signature low whistle trailing through the cramped hideout as he strolls in. It’s a sharp contrast to the steady autumn rain tapping against the windows, and for a moment, it distracts you from the heaviness you’ve been carrying all day.

“What’s this?” Dabi drawls, his voice dripping with amusement as he rounds the corner. His sharp blue eyes immediately lock on you, slouched on the couch in a dark hoodie that practically swallows you whole. His hoodie. Or rather, his face on the hoodie.

“You like it?” you ask, pulling the fabric taut across your torso so the graphic is on full display. The design is bold - blueish flames licking at the edges of a stylized portrait of his scarred face, his name scrawled underneath in jagged letters. It is paired with bold text above his portrait that reads Keep it Hot.

He leans against the doorway, arms crossed, a lazy grin tugging at his lips. “Didn’t think you were the type to wear something this gaudy. Is this supposed to be flattering, or are you just trying to embarrass me?”

You shrug, feigning nonchalance, but the glint in your eyes gives you away. “Maybe both?”

Dabi strides over, his boots heavy on the floor, and stops just short of the couch. He towers over you for a moment, looking down at the hoodie, then your face. His grin sharpens. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he mutters, plopping down beside you and slinging an arm around your shoulders.

“Don’t act like you’re not into it,” you shoot back.

"Should I start signing autographs now, or are we saving that for later?”

You glance up at him, a smirk playing at your lips. “Jealous? I could’ve bought the Hawks hoodie instead.”

"You’d look ridiculous in that flashy bird crap. But this?” He gestures lazily at your hoodie. “This screams taste. You’ve got a thing for bad boys, huh?”

You just roll your eyes, still grinning.

“You’re fucking obsessed,” he adds, leaning closer with a mock-serious expression. “You’ve got my face, my flames, my name on you. What’s next? A shrine in the closet? Maybe a tattoo? Ooh, how about-”

“Dabi.” You give him a look, but your lips are twitching.

He hums, tilting his head. “Relax, doll. I’m flattered, really."

You shake your head, laughing despite yourself, as he stretches out beside you, looking every bit like the smug bastard he is. “My sweet, little number one fan,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, but the teasing lilt never quite fades as he gently scratches your nape.

[scary-grace]

Somewhere in the Crowd- a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Tomura tells himself he's content with singing backup in the band he founded, and most of the time he is. But when he takes a song request from you during the biggest concert the League of Villains has ever played, he realizes that there might be a few advantages to claiming the spotlight. 4.1k words, no quirks, band au. the League sounds like Lord Huron because I want them to and all songs referenced are from LH's discography.

this fic is for the lovely @scarlettcryptid's birthday! she offered me free rein to write a Shigaraki x reader fic, and true to form I have produced a band AU. happy birthday Scarlett! sorry it's a little late.

Even midway into his second tour with the band he started, Tomura still hasn’t fallen for the supposed romance of being onstage. It’s hot under the lights. The entire venue smells like sweat. And if it wasn’t for the earpiece jammed in one ear and the earplug jammed in the other, he wouldn’t even be able to hear what the rest of the band is doing. Not Twice on drums, not Toga on violin or musical saw or whatever weird instrument she dug up, not Dabi on piano or Spinner on guitar, and definitely not either Dabi or Spinner’s singing. Without the goddamn earpieces, the League of Villains would fall apart.

And at the same time, Tomura doesn’t hate it quite as much as he used to. Since the League got signed with Deika Records, they’ve been playing sold-out shows in increasingly larger venues. Tonight’s venue has three thousand people. Three thousand people paid money to get in, and some number of them paid more money to meet-and-greet with the band afterwards, and right now, all of them are focused on the stage.

They’re mainly focused on Spinner and Dabi, who are singing, or on Twice, who’s always doing something weird and destined to go viral, or on Toga, who’s better at playing to the crowd than anybody else in the band. Tomura, off to one side of the stage with his bass and a mic in front of him, might as well be an afterthought. And that’s fine with him. He’s the one who formed the band. He’s the one who writes the songs. His music is in the spotlight. That’s good enough.

They’ve just wrapped up a crowd favorite, one of the songs from the first album, and they’re officially in the back half of the set. Tomura glances down at the set list, sees the blank spot, and feels a wave of apathy sweep over him. It gets even worse when Spinner, his handpicked lead singer who’s all about keeping things fair, steps up to the mic and announces it to the crowd. “We’ve got space for one more request, so send it on over to Shigaraki! It’s his turn to pick.”

When it’s Dabi or Spinner picking the request, people rush the stage, and people rush it this time, too – so they can try to get the poster they made or the picture they want signed right up and personal with Spinner and Dabi. Tomura sidles awkwardly over to the edge of the stage, wondering if anyone will try to request something from him. Tonight there are two dozen or so, all with big posters asking for the band’s most famous songs. Someone wants a deep cut, one that Dabi sings solo, and Tomura’s feeling like an asshole, so he skips that one on purpose. And then he spots something else.

It’s not a poster or a photo for signing. It’s a piece of folded-up notebook paper, held up by someone who doesn’t look like the type to be right up front at a League of Villains concert. It’s hard to get a good look at your face with all the posters in the way, and somebody keeps bumping into you, almost knocking you over. You keep your arm up, your piece of notebook paper flapping, and Tomura reaches out to the absolute edge of his balance and snatches it from your hand.

“We have a winner,” Toga calls out, and a bunch of people cheer – because it’s Toga talking, not because Tomura grabbed a request. “What’s it gonna be, Tomura-kun?”

Tomura unfolds the piece of paper. Three words. Play your favorite.

He knew he grabbed the right one. “Lost in Time and Space,” he announces, to the tune of a collective “huh” from the audience. “Spinner. Move over.”

Spinner’s grinning as he steps away from the center mic. “We haven’t done this one in forever,” he says, too quietly for the crowd to here. He swaps his guitar for Tomura’s bass. “Whoever did the request must be a fan of yours.”

Tomura doesn’t think you are, really. He’s not even sure you’re a fan of the band. If you were, you’d have requested a specific song, not just requested that Tomura play his favorite song. Tomura feels a surge of nerves as he gets set at the center mic, then pushes them aside. Just because he hasn’t sung lead in a while doesn’t mean he’s forgotten how. Everyone might rather look at Spinner or Dabi, but for the next three and a half minutes, they’re going to have to put up with looking at him. Tomura cues the rest of the band, adjusts his grip on Spinner’s guitar, and plays.

It’s an old song, off the League’s first LP. That LP became their first album, with the weird character songs and story arcs the League is famous for, but neither Spinner nor Dabi wanted this song. Tomura doesn’t blame them. He was pretty depressed when he wrote it, and it’s a little too mopey for the LP and for what the League usually plays. But it’s his damn song. He hasn’t played it on tour at all. He’s going to enjoy it.

He does enjoy it. Not enough to make him miss singing lead or being the star of the show, but he enjoys getting to play a song that’s his, one he didn’t write to play to anybody else’s strengths. And at the end of the song, once he’s stepped away from the center mic and gone back where he belongs, he picks up the notebook paper off the stage and tucks it into his pocket. Whoever you are, he hopes you got what you were looking for out of the show. As he slogs through the rest of the set, Tomura wishes he’d gotten a good look at your face.

After three encores – a record – Tomura and the rest of the band get a break, hanging out in the green room before the meet-and-greet. Toga beelines for the fridge, but instead of opening it, she hauls out a can of air freshener from the floor next to it and starts spraying it everywhere. Twice gets a blast in the face and sneezes through his mask. “Hey, what the hell? That’s the best thing I’ve ever smelled and it sucks!”

“It smells like boy sweat in here,” Toga says. “I love you guys, but you stink. The girls at the meet and greet won’t like that.”

“Some of them are into it,” Dabi says, and smirks. Spinner grabs the air freshener from Toga and sprays both armpits. “Quit simping so hard for your fans, lead singer. It’s supposed to be the other way around.”

“They paid to come talk to us. We shouldn’t tear-gas them with our body odor.”

“So you’re going to tear-gas them with air freshener instead?”

“They’re his fans. He can do what he wants.” Tomura shakes his head when Spinner offers him the can. Deodorant exists, and it’s not like anybody’s going to want to talk to Tomura anyway. “That goes for everybody. Do what you want. But if you break Magne’s rules, you’re on your own.”

Magne’s been the tour manager since halfway through their first tour, and she’s strict as hell. In fairness to Magne, they earned it. Halfway through their first tour, one meet-and-greet turned into one party and turned into five separate scandals, one for each of them. Spinner’s was the smallest and Twice’s was pretty funny, but Dabi and Toga both spent a night in jail over theirs, and although it upped their cred with the fanbase, it also tanked a possible record deal. Kurogiri showed up to bail them out, and he brought Magne with him.

The door to the green room opens, and Magne steps in, like Tomura somehow summoned her by mentioning her name. “They’re all lined up,” she says. “I’m sneaking you in the back way. Does everybody remember the rules?”

Tomura mumbles agreement along with everybody else. Magne’s smile takes on a dangerous glint. “There are only three important ones,” she says. “First: The bus leaves when it leaves, regardless of who’s on it. I don’t care how hungover you are. Get your ass on the bus.”

When Tomura’s hungover, he usually sleeps on the bus, just to make sure it doesn’t leave without him. “Second,” Magne continues, “remember that whatever you do with a groupie is going to end up all over the internet. And don’t bring any groupies on the bus unless the rest of the band okays it.”

That’s happened exactly never. Tomura uses the bus trips for writing or for naps, and too much groupie bullshit makes it hard to do either. “And finally,” Magne says, “if I find out that any of you were hooking up with a groupie in a goddamn koi pond again, I’m taking you to the vet and having you neutered before you sober up.”

“That was one time!” Twice protests.

“Yeah, and we’re still getting therapy bills from the fish,” Tomura says. Toga cackles. “Can we get this over with?”

“Yep! Right this way.” Magne leads them out the door and down a hallway, then ushers them through the door into the venue’s VIP lounge. Tomura’s last in line, and she grabs his arm before he can go in. “I got a call from the big boss at Deika. He says to try not to look like you’re in pain the entire time.”

“Tell him to stop looking at me, then.” Tomura shrugs her off, steps through the door, and skulks over to the far corner of the room. “Nobody else is.”

Back before he made it in any capacity, Tomura used to daydream about meet-and-greets, getting all wound up over the idea that people would pay to talk to him about his music. A few years into his career, the reality’s set in: Meet-and-greets are for photos and autographs and fans throwing themselves at the artists, and nobody throws themselves at Tomura. Kurogiri thinks it’s his stage presence, or the fact that he doesn’t interact with fans on social media, or that he doesn’t look very approachable. Tomura’s pretty sure it’s about how he looks, period. With a face like his, approachable doesn’t matter.

The fans start filtering in, beelining for the others, and Tomura digs his notebook out of his pocket. He might as well write a bit.

Compress, who handles production and merchandising on the tour, swings by at one point to give Tomura the figures. They’re doing well, which is a surprise. “Even the new stuff?”

“The K-pop strategy is working,” Compress says. He lifts his mask to take a sip of water, then lowers it down again. “Everyone’s trying to collect them all – the photo cards, the different editions of the albums, the replica costume pieces. The fans on Twitter are competing to see who can get an autograph on every piece of merchandise first.”

The fans on Twitter are really stupid. “If it works, it works.”

“It’s working very well,” Compress says. He pauses. “Somebody did come by looking for something I didn’t have. They wanted a copy of Vide Noir. Not the album – the LP.”

“The LP? Why?”

“Because the album doesn’t have Lost in Time and Space on it,” Compress says. “I’m not kidding, Shigaraki. Those were her exact words.”

Tomura has a hard time believing that. He’s pretty sure Compress is saying it just to build him up, because they’re halfway through the meet-and-greet, and nobody, not even the autograph hunters, has come to talk to Tomura. Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Tomura didn’t start writing music so people will talk to him. That’s what he’s been insisting on since he started the band. Midway through their second tour, it’s almost the truth.

Compress leaves, and Tomura keeps writing, scratching away at a verse that’s not coming together. He’s just starting to wonder how much longer this thing is supposed to go on for when a shadow falls across his notebook page. “Um,” a girl’s voice starts. “Hi. Are you Tomura?”

“Dabi’s over there.”

“Yeah, I saw,” the girl says. “Are you Tomura?”

“I’m Shigaraki.” Tomura doesn’t look up. “You want to talk to Spinner? He’s over there. He likes the shy ones.”

Tomura’s not sure if Spinner likes the shy ones or if he’s just less scared of them than he is of the others. For a lead singer, Spinner’s unusually spooked by his fans. “Is Spinner the one who writes the songs?” the girl asks. “I wanted to talk to the person who writes the songs. If the liner notes are anything to go by, that’s you.”

Tomura looks up at tonight’s misguided, irritating fan, and stops at chest height when notes the lack of a backstage pass around your neck. He notes your breasts, too, and the fact that you’re not showing them off. “Nice work on sneaking in here without paying. Dabi will be impressed.”

“I didn’t sneak in,” the fan says. “The woman at the door let me in when I showed her this.”

Tomura doesn’t look up, and the fan sticks a notebook into the middle of his eyeline. A notebook with lined paper and the remnants of a torn-out page still clinging to the binding. Tomura fumbles in his pocket for the request he took and unfolds it, lining it up to match the torn edge of the page. The request is a little crumpled, but when Tomura smooths it out, he can see that the edges match.

His heart skips an awkward beat, then another. He’s not talking to a random fan. You’re the one who gave him the request. He hands you back the notebook without the request sets his own notebook aside, and gets to his feet, so he can finally get a look at your face. You’re pretty, and you’re dressed like you came here straight from an office job, and you came to talk to him – and he’s been a dick. “Sorry,” he says, the word feeling awkward and unwieldy as it forces its way out of his mouth. “Thought you were here for somebody else.”

You shake your head. “I was hoping to talk to you,” you say. “Sorry about the first-name thing. That was – awkward.”

You used Tomura’s first name, and Tomura was a jackass to you. That makes it even, in his opinion.  “What did you want to talk about?”

“I wanted to thank you for taking my request,” you say earnestly. You remind Tomura of some of Spinner’s fans. “And I wanted to know why you picked the song you did.”

Now you sound more like one of Dabi’s fans. Dabi’s fans get kind of direct when they want something. “I’ll tell you that if you tell me why you gave me that request instead of a normal one.”

You look at Tomura, and Tomura looks back. “Can we sit down?” you ask. “I took an elbow to the knee trying to get through the mosh pit, and my leg’s still kind of numb.”

Something about that strikes Tomura as funny, but he doesn’t realize what it is until you’re both sitting down on the floor, leaned back against the wall. “Did you just make a Skyrim joke?”

“Don’t get too excited. I only know the one.” You glance sideways at Tomura. “Want to see the bruise?”

Usually when Dabi’s fans ask him if he wants to see something, they mean their tits. Or their ass. Tomura nods, and you hike up your pantleg. Tomura gets kind of fixated on your ankle, then your calf, but then you pull the fabric up over your knee, and Tomura winces in spite of himself. “Are you sure it was an elbow and not a hammer or something?”

“Maybe it was. Your fans are kind of crazy.”

“The band’s fans,” Tomura corrects. You let your pantleg fall back, covering up your calf and your ankle, and Tomura feels weirdly disappointed. “Are you going to answer my question?”

“Why I gave you that request?” You tilt your head back against the wall. “You write all the songs, but you never sing lead, and songs sound different when they’re sung by the person who wrote them. I thought if I asked for your favorite, you’d pick one you sing lead on.”

And you were right. Tomura feels weird about that. Weird enough to answer your question before you can ask it again. “I picked that one because it’s the only one I still sing lead on. I have favorites for the band. But I always pick those. I just thought it might be – fun.”

“I liked it,” you say. “When Dabi and Spinner sing, they’re telling a story. It’s a good story, and they’re telling it well, but – when you sang it, it sounded like it was about you. Do you feel like you’re writing about yourself when you write songs?”

“Do you usually get this personal with people you just met?”

“I don’t usually meet my favorite songwriter,” you say. “So no.”

Your favorite. “I’m not your favorite. Don’t lie.”

“I don’t lie about stuff like that,” you say. “I wouldn’t take an elbow to the knee for my second-favorite songwriter.”

Tomura snorts. “I didn’t know people had favorite songwriters.”

“I’m weird,” you say comfortably. Now you sound like a Toga fan. Or one of Twice’s. Their fans don’t take themselves too seriously. “And I’m a writer, so I know the good stuff when I see it.”

“You write?” Tomura asks. He wouldn’t have guessed looking at you. Then again, he wouldn’t have guessed that you’d be at a League concert, either. “Poems or something?”

“No, stories,” you say. Tomura’s a little bit relieved. “Stories have arcs and plots, just like your songs do – and the band’s albums – but you do it in a lot less space than I have to work with, so you’re much more efficient. You can define a character in two lines, and it’s compelling. People connect with it. They must, or they wouldn’t dress up in those outfits.”

Tomura tries not to pay attention to the outfits. Sometimes seeing what people took away from his songs is a little upsetting. Listening to you talk about what you like about his songwriting style is a different kind of upsetting, the kind where he wants to believe it and knows he shouldn’t. “What’s your favorite?”

“Meet Me in the Woods,” you say without missing a beat. “I was kind of sad you all didn’t play it.”

“We need a female vocalist,” Tomura says. “We rented one for recording it, but Toga doesn’t sing, and Magne wouldn’t do it even when Twice dared her to. And Dabi said his balls shrink every time he puts his falsetto up that high.”

You laugh at that. Tomura likes what it sounds like. “Spinner says the song gives him the creeps,” he adds. “I sang lead in the studio.”

“You should sing lead for that one,” you say. “And find a female vocalist.”

Tomura shrugs. “Job’s open if you want it.”

Your face flushes instantly. “I bet you know better jokes than that.”

“Can you sing?” Tomura asks. You look away in a hurry, the flush deepening. Now you look like a Spinner fan again, but you’re not saying no, either. Now Tomura’s interested. He gets to his feet. “Let’s go.”

“Where?”

Tomura holds out a hand to help you up, and after a long second, you take it. “Let’s go.”

Tomura doesn’t let go of your hand, and you don’t pull away. It’s not until Tomura leads you back out onto the stage in an auditorium that’s now lit only by a ghostlight that you put the brakes on. “No.”

“There’s nobody in here but me,” Tomura says. “You said it’s your favorite song. Try it.”

“Would you try it, if you were me?” Your hand is shaking a little bit. “Faceplanting in front of my favorite songwriter was not on my agenda for this evening.”

“I’ll sing, too,” Tomura says. “I could always faceplant in front of my biggest fan.”

Maybe that was a dumb thing to say. Maybe you don’t want to be Tomura’s biggest fan. He waits for you to protest. Instead, you take a deep breath. “Start singing, then.”

The first verse is Tomura’s, and his joke about faceplanting in front of you gets a little too real in a heartbeat. There’s something weird about singing in front of just one person, someone he can’t see even though you’re right next to him. It’s a relief when you join him on the tag at the end of the verse, even if you’re quiet. And Tomura was right – you can sing, at least enough to harmonize, and to match his tone so your voice doesn’t clash with his. The real test will be the chorus, if you can keep pace with Tomura there.

And you can. Tomura knew you could, but he’s surprised by how good it sounds. By the last line of the chorus, you’re confident enough to screw around a bit, putting a turn on the last three notes of the third line instead of hitting them straight. Tomura’s not projecting his voice all that hard, and neither are you, but the auditorium’s empty. There’s nothing for your voices to hit that will deaden the sound, and the acoustics bounce it back in an echo that sends chills down Tomura’s spine.

When the echo fades, it’s silent. Next to Tomura, you shiver. “Maybe this was a bad place to sing this song.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Tomura will admit the line about the endless night hit a little harder than it was supposed to. “Tomorrow night, try not to stare into the lights.”

“I told you not to joke.”

“I don’t joke about stuff like this,” Tomura says. Now you’re reminding him of Spinner, who took way too much convincing before he’d believe that Tomura not only wanted him in the band, but wanted him to sing lead. “I told you. The job’s yours if you want it. Do you want it?”

It’s quiet for a second. “Where’s your next show?”

“A couple hours from here. Are you worried about your job or something?”

“No,” you say slowly. “Tonight was the last night of a business trip. I’m remote most of the time.”

“So you can work anywhere as long as you have internet access,” Tomura says. He hears you make some kind of distressed noise. “It’s your favorite song. I’ll put it in the set list and I’ll sing lead. You just have to sing it with me. Are you in?”

“This isn’t why I came here,” you say. “I just wanted to meet you and talk about your songs. I wasn’t trying to, like – get on the bus or something.”

“That would be a hell of a long con,” Tomura says. “I don’t think you’d go for that. Too many moving parts.”

“Yeah.” You make that distressed noise again. It’s sort of cute. “Is there a reason we’re still holding hands?”

“Yeah. It’s dark in here and I didn’t want you to fall of the side of the stage.” Tomura starts back towards the wings, pulling you along with him and trying to get his stupid grin under control before he steps back into the light. “Look at it this way. Even if you faceplant tomorrow night, it’ll be something to write about.”

“Are you going to write about this?” you challenge. “You never told me if you feel like your songs are about you.”

Tomura doesn’t, usually. He writes about characters for a reason. Most of the things that happen to him aren’t worth writing about. You, though – you fought through the mosh pit to give him your request, and then you came to find him after the show, and you like him as a lead singer and you can sing and you sound damn good singing with him. And you’re still holding his hand. Most of the things that happen to Tomura aren’t worth writing about. He met you half an hour ago and you already are.

You don’t try to let go of his hand, and you don’t hit the brakes again until you’re just outside the meet-and-greet room. “I want to know,” you say. The shellshocked look you had on when you got back into the light has faded. Now you just look pretty and stressed, and like you’re not going to take no for an answer. Tomura likes that. “Are your songs about you?”

“This one will be,” Tomura says, and he pulls you into the room to meet the rest of the band.

[ghostbeam]

Tomura shigaraki x reader, tomura is an art student, takes place in the same universe as my charcoal artist!dabi stuff, tomura is like very insecure in some of this, if the writing feels pretentious and flowery and unnecessary that’s because it is<3

His hair is getting long.

Running your fingers through the ends, you notice how it’s nearing his shoulders now. His head is in your lap, staring up at you as you lean against the mountain of pillows on your bed, clad in a pair of underwear and the tee shirt he arrived in. His jeans are stained with paint, hanging low on his hips, unbuttoned and quickly thrown on so he wasn’t naked and vulnerable in your lap. You thumb at the scar by the corner of his mouth and he kisses it, then your palm, then your wrist. Tomura takes your hand in between three careful fingers and places it over his heart.

Love is not how they told you it would be.

The two of you were assigned to the same group in painting iii, formed so that the students could give one another critiques independently. Only, you couldn’t find a single thing to critique in his work.

Tomura worked with oils—or Tomura lived and breathed and died for them. He painted people, always caught in a moment, in the middle of talking, or yelling, or drinking, or sleeping. His attention to detail was unlike anything you’d ever seen before, colors you’d never realized could appear in skin tones, shine on limbs and cheeks that made his subjects both more alive and human than any real person. His work felt sort of dirty, sweaty, perpetually damp. But it was beautiful. You couldn’t say a thing about it.

He’d confronted you about it one afternoon, stuffing handouts from the professor into his bag, which looked to be filled with more loose paper and no text books.

“Do you hate it that much?” It was the first time he’d ever talked to you, actually talked to you and not just about your work during a critique. “You never have anything to say.”

It stuns you for a moment, his anger and annoyance, how he’s decided to aim it at you instead of the group of people clamoring for issues with his painting all class period.

“I’m supposed to point out flaws, tell you where you could have done better, explain how I wasn’t moved,” you explain, staring down at your shoes, “but I can’t do that. There’s not—I don’t see how I could possibly tell you how you could do better.”

“That’s bullshit.” He mutters, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Don’t just say what I want to hear. I won’t like you any more for it.”

He leaves you standing alone in the classroom. Like you? He thought it was about being liked? You’re in such awe of him that you can’t speak, and he thinks you’re just trying not to hurt his feelings.

During the next class, when he stands before your group for critique, you don’t say a word. And he keeps looking at you like he’s waiting for it, like you’ll be angry enough at him for last week that you’ll rip his painting apart. But your silent, once again. Nothing’s changed.

He’s the first one out of the class once you’re dismissed. He walks fast, and you’re out of breath by the time you catch up with him, resting a hand on his shoulder that he flinches away from. Your breath comes out in quick puffs that you can see, wrapping your coat tighter around yourself as you fix him with a glare.

“You’re wrong.” You say once he’s turned around. “I don’t care if you like me or not after critique. It’s not about sparing your feelings. I’ve never seen anything like what you do. And I watch you in class, and you paint like something is clawing it’s way out of you, like you need to do it or you’ll die.”

“You’re honest with everyone else but me.” He argues, unable to accept your words. You have real things to say to your peers. You don’t hold back with them. You make them better. Why couldn’t you do that for him?

“You are not everyone else.” You watch his eyes widen at your words, and if you had any shame, maybe you wouldn’t have said something so bold. “You’re leagues above all of us. Everyone knows it, and that’s why they’re harsh on you.”

Where you say nothing, your group rips into him, picking at each and every detail until there’s nothing left. He takes it all in stride, accepting their words like it’s absolute truth, and returning to his canvas with sunken shoulders and furrowed brows, concentrated on how he could be better. It’s exactly what they want.

He opens his mouth the say something, but stops, feeling a drop of something fall on his cheek. He looks up at the dark clouds above the two of you, and it begins to rain. He curses, taking a hold of your hand and leading you underneath the front of the design building.

“They’re harsh because I deserve it.” He points out, still holding your hand. You could say a million things right now, tell him in detail how moved you are by every piece he makes, but his hand is still in yours, and you don’t trust yourself not to trip over your words because of it. You can only shake your head.

“Why can’t you accept that you’re brilliant?” You question, exasperated. It makes him laugh, his smile being something you’ve never seen before. It makes you think of all the people who have seen this smile before, the stretch of his lips, the creases by his eyes. Had they felt this lucky?

“I think you’re crazy.” He tells you, knocking his knuckles against your head.

“Do you wanna go out?” You ask before you’re able to stop yourself. He leans away from you, surprised.

“What?” You can’t find the words to speak, to tell him you’re sorry, that it was uncalled for, that you’re a total creep. His face is red, you notice. He speaks a moment later, “yes.”

Rising from your lap, he leans over you, kissing your lips with as much tenderness as he had your palm. Your lips are his favorite thing to paint, second only to your thighs which he grips tightly as he wraps your legs around his waist.

When he’d met you, all full of hope and belief in him of all people, he’d thought of you as such a faraway thing. Unattainable. If you couldn’t talk about his work, there was no way you’d ever talk to him. But he was wrong, something he rarely ever is, your faith in him changing how he viewed his own art forever.

He paints you. He paints you a lot. He even paints the two of you together, though your faces are never in those ones, just bodies tangled together on one canvas. He’d call you his muse if you didn’t hate it. And besides, he knows you’re so much more.

If there had been something inside of him clawing it’s way out, you had noticed it, freed it, kept it safe with you so it wasn’t so agonizing to carry on his own.

No, it’s not how they told him it would be at all.

[s0ft-d3cay]

Our Home

Shigaraki x Male Reader | I had some family shit that came up so my writing might be more comforting and lovey dovey for a bit. Just a heads up! Hope you have a lovey day/night!!!!

WARNINGS: they make out, lots of kisses, cute domestic gay couple stuff because I need it, Tomura calls the reader a brat(Lovingly), its RELLY cute, use of Y/N

WC:1,273

"Do you want me to carry you home?" Tomura asked teasingly, the two coated in blood and dust equally. The remains of heroes now staining their clothing, Y/N couldn’t care less about the mess. Plus…the man had a way of making blood look hot on him and Y/N could never resist the sight of the liquid crimson on the other man’s pale skin.

His brain turned to mush at the small question, grinning as he wipes off his weapon. The mere idea of something so small and domestic made his heart skip. Y/N chuckle at his offer. "I would absolutely love for you to carry me home, Tomura." Y/N replied, the red eyed man grumbled out an order to the doctor. Black oil-like substance formed a poorly made portal to a lone watchtower, one Y/N had revamped to his home.

Ecstatic, Tomura moved to pick up the other man in his arms, holding him close against his chest. Looking down at Y/N with a winning smile nuzzling his cheek with his boyfriends. "You comfortable, brat?" Y/N chuckles. “Very, now come on I want you to see the house!” With an excited giggle, Y/N replied. His gaze taking in his pretty boyfriend, wandering over every detail of him.

Glances at the portal, Tomura turns his attention back towards Y/N, his expression glee and amusement as he replies. “You’re really hyping up this house of ours.” Walking through the transporting oil-like substance. Both of them now on the first floor of the watchtower. A lone two story compacted building surrounded by thick evergreen trees. Standing in front of the door to the house, a set of stairs lead to the second floor and ground below split a few feet from the door.

Tomura’s red eyes took in the environment around him silently, before he speaks up. "Your house is amazing. How did you find this?” He questioned in wonder, eyes still wavering over the building. Y/N chuckles, "Found it for sale years back, thought maybe one day I could take a break and rest.” He said bashfully with a shy smile, tilting his head towards the door in front of them. Three windows lined along the left side, sun catchers gleaming within the house. Turning and glowing with beaming rainbows cascading on the wooden deck.

The villain leaner steps in hesitantly. The house held a large bed beneath below the line and corner of windows, a full kitchen on the right in front of the door, and a couch in the far left corner of the room. The bed lays messily in sea-foam green covers, a few earthy tone rugs in rusted red and blotched greens. The kitchen fair full with a dishwasher, fridge, stone and microwave. And the lone gray couch set against the wall, what looks to be a projector hung up on the ceiling.

"It’s so lovely…feel like we’ve been here for years.” He commented with a grin, still holding the other man in his arms as he walks deeper into the house. Y/N's eyes fondly looking over all his hard work. The white haired man looking around in thought. His red eyes lingerer over the bed, "Do you mind if I…put you on the bed and we cuddle? I wanna lay with you.” He uttered softly, leaning down to press a kiss to the man’s forehead.

Y/N ponders the cuddling idea for a second before another idea come to mind. "Could I show you around the place real quick? Each room I show you, I’ll kiss you.” The man teasingly asked, his arms tightened around Tomura’s neck. "Please!” Y/N begged cutely, blinking rapidly as he playfully pouts.

“Hmm, sounds like we’re gonna have a lot of kisses...” He replies, chuckling as his eyes rolled. "I can see why you wanted to come here to relax, this place feels…cozy yet beautiful at the same time. You did an amazing job with finding this place, Y/N…” The villain praised sweetly with his raspy voice.

"And…the decorations as well as rebuilding, my love.” Y/N added on, placing a tender kiss to Tomura’s dry lips. His own soft and plush against his boyfriends rough ones. Feeling the hair white haired put him down to stand through the progressive heated kiss. "You did all of that? You truly are the jack of all trades.” The white haired man muttered out with a soft grin, kissing the man again. Y/N hummed through the second kiss, his lips curling and melting to his partners.

Y/N hum dreamily as he continued to complement his hard work. Breathlessly pulling away from their connected lips, hands moving down to Y/N's waist. Keeping the man close to brush his lips once more…then again and again, Y/N’s heart pounded with a giddy thrill. Beginning to walk through the house.

"Here we have a lovely kitchen…” Y/N leaned up to kissing him again. "Mmm…~” Tomura hums pleasantly, leaning the front of his body flush against the other man. Pulling away to halfway glance at the kitchen, then back at Y/N. Red eyes now focused on Y/N's kissed stained lips, his tongue licking his own in eager anticipation.

"What else do you have here in this lovely house of ours, brat?” Tomura questioned with a warm smile on his blood and dirt covered face. Y/N pulled him farther into the house, resting his back against the far wall as he opened a sliding door on the other end of the house. A few steps away from the couch. "Full bathroom with a tub, shower and a washer and dryer in the corner.” The man quickly uttered, allowing the other man time to look into the room. Impressed, Tomura looks around the space, his red gaze falling back to his boyfriend. Grinning as he saw him standing beside the door.

"We have our very own bathroom as well?” He asked in a soft grumble, Y/N nodded with a bright smile, pulling his boyfriend in for another kiss by his collar. This one slow and savory between the two men, Y/N pulls away with an audible pop. "Yes, we have our own bathroom…” The blush on Tomura’s face after the kiss looked angelic, given the white haired man was always angelic in Y/N’s opinion. But his soften expression, those wide eye. Y/N could replay that expression over and over again. With a shaky breath, the villain pressed his lips to Y/N's again, pushing him to the wall. A whine at the pressure of his body pinned to the wall slips past his lips in passion and hunger.

Y/N breath catch in his throat after the series kisses, leading his boyfriend toward the welcoming bed in the opposite corner, he continues. "The couch in the corner and the wall, I wanted it to be like a big nest. And right there is my record player, I connected it to speakers surrounding both levels and the outside."

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Y/N watching his lover’s gaze gleam in fond admiration. "That’s it for the first floor, what do you think?” Waiting for him to both reply and join him on the comfortable bed. Tomura walks over, his excitement plain as day on his face. Jumping on the bed, laying face first with open arms and legs against the sheets and blankets Y/N laugh out, turning on the mattress. Tomura glances over at the other man from the sheets, grinning wide like a child.

"This house is so fucking cool, Y/N! I love how big the bed is and I love that there's music! This place is perfect!” He says before sitting up to kiss the man passionately and lovingly. Sighing dreamily kissing back, Y/N crawls over on top of his boyfriend, holding him close against himself. Feeling the infinite love for Tomura flow through his veins.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the rights of any of the characters I write about, all the rights go to their respective creators.

[dilfhos]

STRAY

#!WHO : SHIGARAKI TOMURA

#!CC: puppygirl!reader, thoughts of depravity, readers kinda naive, no thots just dick, there’s no expressive consent but reader’s kinda dumb and needy, use of “doggy” and “pup”. reader does actually bark (not them arf, yips! like a husky, heady bark.) MDNI.

+bringing back this banger from my old blog. you can also read it on my ao3. im nervous lol idk how its gonna hold up 2 years later, diff audience. i can’t remember the ask specifically but it was something like Shigaraki finding a stray and he ends up using her. omg and i want to tag @bakatenshii idk if you remember my old alias but i do remembered you loved this fic!

+NETWORK(S): @angelshub @bitchcraftinc (i keep forgetting to do this mL, excuse the random @/lovelies)

“Good girl,” Shigaraki whispers and he really means it, at least for now. It makes him think having a pet like you may not be all that bad…

Shigaraki still wonders how he ever let this be, an animal-woman hybrid living in his already cramped apartment. Doesn’t know why he hadn’t bothered to kick you out either. But it could be anybody’s guess as to why you still remain.

It all started when he got into an argument with his landlord, one that required him the self control to back off and avoid killing the bastard. It was rainy but Shigaraki paid no mind to the stinging raindrops that pelted his skin and soaked his clothes. It was dark out, but not too dark as to not notice you cowering against the side of his building upon his return. Your eyes were closed as you trembled in the cold rain.

Shigaraki didn’t know why he found himself moving closer to get a better look at you but when your eyes shot open, he found himself almost curious. He’d never seen anything like you before. Especially when your ears, you very doglike ears twitched forward, erect and alert. But you didn’t seem all that afraid. You were dressed in soaked shirt that was too big for you as it sagged off your body.

He crouched down and you inched toward him reluctantly and as you moved from your previous position, his eyes sought out the tail that had been tucked in between your legs.

“Hey, there you are,” Someone cooed from behind him. Shigaraki turned to eye the man. There was nothing all that remarkable about him; he wore all black, his hood over his head save for a few dark locks that stuck to his brows. Shigaraki wasn’t the least bit intimidated. But that couldn’t be said for you as you frantically dove into his arms, letting out a frightened whimper. Your ears flattened against your head as your hands curled into Shigaraki’s coat.

He wanted to back you off and leave from the situation as it had nothing to do with him and was fixing to do so when he looked down. Your pupils were blown and eyes glossy, pleading.

He sighed before standing, pulling you up with him to stand on trembling feet.

“She yours?” Shigaraki mumbled. You moved behind him, your hands tightening on his clothes.

“Heh, yeah, ran right out through the door. Isn’t that right baby?” You growled all while cowering behind Shigaraki’s form.

“No collar,” Shigaraki noted.

“Been meaning to get her one. C’mon baby, why don’t you leave the nice man alone and come back home with me?” He cooed.

The utter confidence and trust you had in Shigaraki at this moment was appalling. He barely covered the man in terms of height and upon first glance, he looked rather average. Definitely not the type to win in a fist fight. So why were you so dependent on him to save you?

Shigaraki didn’t have time to really think too much about it because the man advanced, silver glinting under the streetlamp. You yelped and cowered back against the wall again, covering your eyes.

You heard a grunt followed by a pained cry as that then died into the sound of pelting rain. When you lowered your shaky hands, Shigaraki was standing over a pile of what looked to be ash, the knife a few feet away.

Ever since that night, he couldn’t seem to shake you.

You’re loyal and to him, it’s annoying. Showing up at his doorsteps turns into you sleeping on his ratty couch. His chasing you away turns into grumbles of tolerance. The typical sneer he wears when you come sniffing around dissolved in hidden blushes and twitched lips as your distrustful cowering eventually turn into you becoming disturbingly comfortable around him.

After another day of pressing his key into the lock does he already see you on the other side of the door, tail whipping back and forth in excitement as you await his return. Except he isn’t really in the mood. Today was particularly bad and he wanted nothing more than to possibly let off steam, maybe watch something, blow his load and sleep.

“Stupid mutt, stop doing that!” He growls when his back immediately slams against the door, eyes narrowed in the way you smile up at him.

“Welcome home sir.” You beamed.

Another thing you picked up was calling him ‘sir’. Despite the many times he tells you not to. He wasn’t your last owner, and honestly, he’d like it if you didn’t call him anything. But every one of his complaints go through one ear and out the other with you having half the intelligence of an actual dog.

He recoils when he feels your tongue graze his neck. Groans when it doesn’t just end there. You’re licking his chin, his neck, and when your tongue laps over his lips, he’s trying to buck you off. But you’re so persistent as you press further against him, your front grinding up against his groin unknowingly.

Shigaraki bites back a moan at your ignorance, his cock already hardening from your aimless shifting.

You couldn’t feel the bulge pushing against your thigh? The soft grunts he’d release when you’d lap at the rough skin of his neck? You can’t be that stupid or then maybe you are.

But would it be that bad if you are? Because then he wouldn’t feel guilty when he dreams of stuffing you full with his cock. You practically ask for it every chance you get with him. The sleeping in his bed, your excessive show of affection, the sickening devotion in your eyes.

And then, isn’t it what he deserved? He did save you that night. Do you even remember how easy it could have been for him to just walk away? To give you up to that creep? Sure it only happened a few weeks ago but he thinks of that night as if it was only the last. How when he brought you home and went to retrieve a towel to dry you up, you were on your hands and knees practically presenting yourself to him as you slumped in exhaustion. As if giving him the go ahead to do what he wanted to and by gods, it took everything with him not to.

He wasn’t a hero, not by a long shot. And maybe you didn’t have the mental capacity to accept that he was actually a villain because in your eyes, he was your savior.

But as said, today was a particularly bad day and right now he felt anything but.

So just this once he’ll give in. Whether you wanted it or not didn’t matter to him at this point, already past contemplation. After all you’re his pet now, his property and if he can’t do this then what good are you really?

You release your little whimpers and when you look up, your eyes are wide, so full of confusion when he suddenly has you on your hands and knees pressing into you from behind on the floor. Your owner wears a new look, his eyes so feral, teeth gritted. And you know that look; it was the look of your last owner among all the other men that tried to take you on the streets. Hunger. Greed. Desperation.

And you should be wary, should cower away from the carnality in his eyes because you know better than anyone that when it’s present one thing is desired. Yet, you hold your ground. You don’t struggle, in fact he could just make out the way your hips shimmy back a little bit and the whine that surfaces from your throat.

You just can’t help it, the air around you has changed. A thick cloud of hot lust is weighing down around you and so much so, you can’t help but to submit. Besides you trust him one for reasons you can’t figure out.

Shigaraki refuses to meet your eyes, instead he quickly fumbles with his belt and takes out his hard cock. A blush spreads across his face when he eyes the steady slick trailing down your thighs and upon closer inspection he can see how swollen you were and that’s what does him in.

It’s what has him surging forward, bottoming out completely inside of you. Your ears flatten against your head as you let out the neediest sounding moan, one that has a shiver licking down his spine.

“Shit. Shit,” He should feel ashamed, taking advantage of you like this. But he clings on the fact that he’s a villain, that’s his justification. A villian with his pet, that’s all this is.

It’s fueling his newfound vigor as he speeds up, the heat of your tight cunny sucking him in with every cant of his hips.

His fingers dig into the plush of your hips as his own thrust forward, his cock forcing past your tight ring of muscle. You look back again, your eyes glossy with tears, long tongue hanging out as you whine and pant. He was so thick, so heavy within your tight, hot walls. Your nails scrape helplessly against the dingy carpet as he rocks into you with so much drive.

In the midst of your panting and whining surfaces his voice, so grating and filthy as he tumbles every degrading name in the book. It should worry him and yet it has his stomach knotting up, his thighs and glutes tightening as he holds on to your hips for dear life. And in the midst of that is the loud, wet, shlicks of each sink into you.

“My needy little bitch. Taking my cock like a good doggy,” He grits, eyeing the recoil of your ass against his hips.

His hand seeks out the base of your tail as he uses it as leverage to pull you back onto his cock. And it hurts, it has the tears spilling over and yet, your cunt only tightens around him some more.

“F-Feels good sir!” You cry out at about the same time as he mumbles,

“Good doggy, such a good pup,” And at his praise, your ears bend forward, and your tail begins to switch slowly in his gasp. You feel a knot in your tummy, desperately winding down to what you’re chasing. It has you rocking back against him needy to have, so so needy. And the way your resolve has melted away, it makes all his thoughts of guilt completely vanish, leaving him with an unbearable need to fill you up.

He’s quickly pulling out and flipping you onto your back, nails digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as he spreads you wide.

You were so wet, inhumanly so as it’s gushing down onto the carpet and the sight alone has him nearly cumming right then and there but he holds it. At least until he’s thrusting into you again, your head thrown back as you let out a broken whine. Your tits bounce with all the force he’s using as he’s putting everything into these last moments. His one track kind only focuses in the tuft of fur above your cunny, at the way your puffy lips pull part each time he's pushing forward and the slick coating his cock.

You’re yelping with each kiss he delivers to your cervix, hands desperate to hold onto to your new owner. You reach out and he grasps your wrists, using you to thrust impossibly deeper into you. Static fills his mind as his eyes roll back, his hips slamming against yours, balls smacking your ass each time.

“Fuck, fuck cumming!”

“Sir! Sir please-” You cut your own self off with a heady bark, one that startles him. It’s also what has him groaning as he twitches, his seed spilling so suddenly into you. Your pussy milks him as you gush around his dick and it has him falling over, elbows pressed into the carpet on either side of your head. Your legs wrap around his waist as your hips shimmy up against him, whining as you push past your own limits, twitching every so slightly at the overstimulation and sealing this moment of what would be the best one in your simple little head.

“Good girl,” Shigaraki whispers and he really means it, at least for now. It makes him think having a pet like you may not be all that bad.

He also thinks he should probably name you.

dilfos. do not plagiarize any parts of my content— current or archival. all rights reserved.

[palesweetscherryblossom]

A Cat’s purr

Warning: Mention of child neglect, murder, Yandere behavior, tumblr divider was made by @strangergraphics

Life in your tiny mountain village was considered to be very mundane and uneventful. Well, aside from the fearsome cat beast that’d been terrorizing the place. The current explanation was that your village head had struck a deal with the Bakeneko and had failed to deliver his end of the bargain.

Angered by this, the cat yokai had declared vengeance on your village and he wasn’t bluffing either. First, the creature had killed half of his livestock. Then scared away all the distributors who traded with the citizens with wolves.

Disturbingly, he got strangely playful with his torment. Turning poor villagers into mice and chasing them like it was a game, dancing as a cruel taunt and then delivered a horrible famine to the place.

‘I won’t stop till I’m given what I’m owed, stupid humans.’ It’d hissed when people had pleaded for it to cease its torment. It was agreed upon that something had to be done.

You were the child of a poor family and you were humbly offered up for the task. After all, no one would miss you.

Bitter winds swept over your form as you trudged through the unforgiving snow. E/c eyes wandered to your lantern which was loosing light. Your mind was elsewhere though, swarming with pleasant, comfy thoughts of warm blankets and pillows, a hot meal and loving hugs.

Your family had preferred to busy themselves with their jobs and children that they had actually wanted. You were just the unfortunate “accident.” Always the last to eat and be acknowledged.

So you spent your time either in nature or your schoolwork. The only time you got genuine attention was from a strange cat.

A simple blue colored one, with red eyes and sharp teeth. It’d been nice enough to sit with you when you were by the pond. It let you pet it, occasionally purring and going as far as to loaf in your lap.

Your thoughts were interrupted by you tripping on a branch. “Ack!” You seethed with pain as your lantern rolled down a steep hill as you focused on the pain. “Ow, ow, o-ow..” You sniffled almost childishly, clutching your ankle as you tried to get up. Then you heard a low meow.

Tomura hadn’t considered himself soft for humans. He regarded them as weak, soft creatures who couldn’t tell their hand apart from their ass. Except for you.

You were a gentle little thing. He’d spotted you by the koi pond, a place where he’d get a little snack every now and then. You were there, crying your eyes out.

At first Tomura wanted to mess with you but changed his tune when you regarded him with gentleness. You didn’t swat him away or yell at him, you let him come to you.

You’d given him a sad plight, you weren’t getting the attention you deserved and were being treated like a ghost rather than a child. Tomura was reminded of his mate, who was abandoned after getting too sick to take care of.

Imagine his disgust and shock to see you, all out in the cold with nothing to protect yourself.

“Isn’t this a shame.” He rasped, catching your attention. “I thought you humans were pack types, not loners.” He mused, sitting by you.

You tried scooting away, for you realized that this was the Bakeneko you were destined to slay. “Ah, ah, don’t strain yourself, kit.” Tomura chided, getting closer. “I’m a friend.” He purred.

“W-what do you want?” You sniffled, trying to wipe away your tears. “A-are you going to h-hurt me?” Tomura shook his head.

“No, I don’t bother with little mice like you.” He stretched before turning to you. “You know, little kittens shouldn’t be out at this time of night. Should be in bed.” Shigaraki tilted his head.

“I-I know.. I-I just gotta s-slay you.” You weakly whispered, trying to muster up strength.

“But how could you do that when you can barely get up?” Tomura teased. “Don’t strain yourself, kitten.” You frowned at the patronizing tone he took.

“I-I’m not a kitten, I’m a human.” You huffed, weakly swatting him away. Tomura chuckled, hopping on your chest.

“Hmm, nope. You’re just like a kitten. Small, helpless, cute.” He bapped his paw at your face gently. “Where’s your pack, hm? Surely they didn’t send someone as frail like you out.”

You let out a brittle whimper. They did. Just handed you a flimsy knife and told you to find the beast! While everyone else was warm and cozy in their homes, you were freezing to death and being taunted by the creature!

“Oh, don’t cry.” Tomura’s soft voice brought you back to reality. “They really did send you out here by yourself, huh?” You nodded weakly, earning a sympathetic meow from him.

“Poor kitten, my poor baby.” He purred, nuzzling your face. You couldn’t stop yourself now, fully crying as you held him.

“Shh, it’s alright. There there my poor thing.” He purred, delivering a few kitten licks. His parental instincts were kicking up slowly, watching you sob helplessly only amplified them. You didn’t deserve to suffer like this, no. Those filthy humans had no right treating his kit like this.

“You know, you don’t have to go back.” He murmured, slowly transforming into his more humanoid form. “Why don’t you come with me? I’ll keep you warm, fed and cozy in my home.” You snuggled up to him for warmth, weakly nodding off.

“Your wish is my command, my sweet kit.”

You were never seen again