#tomura packs

[xskyll]

Guuuuuuys.

Look at their little noses. Help. I might need one. Preferably two.

[satancopilotsmytardis]

Hmm, Tomura thinking Dabih*wks is a travesty and seducing Dabi shamelessly, rearranging his guts, and then sending H*wks a picture of Dabi blissed out with a creampie and a middle finger raised as the breakup text

[pfpanimes]

⌕ boku no hero academia 7 - EP 7.

like or reblog if you save/use.

[gradelstuff]

League of Villains - Chibi Trading Badges by Takara Tomy Co (2024)

[ephemic]

A symbol of peace who saves people lives with a smile...

⠀⠀♥︎ ≀ boku no hero academia headers !!

icons here

[kiwicidios]

১ 🎀🕸 . °

[acronym-chaos]

Tomura Shigaraki (MHA) ID Pack

[PT: Tomura Shigaraki (MHA) ID Pack].

[ID: A purple thin line divider shaded at the bottom. End ID].

Names

[PT: Names].

Achlys, Adalia, Asher, Blight, Bran, Brona, Cadell, Cain, Calem, Casimir, Cessair, Ciaran, Corvus, Crowe, Daeva, Decay, Desdemona, Dolores, Eris, Fracture, Griffin, Grimm, Loralie, Lothaire, Malice, Mallory, Morana, Morrigan, Morris, Morte, Morte, Nocturne, Payne, Requiem, Ruin, Saber, Salem, Samael, Serpent, Shard, Shiv, Silver, Styx, Thana, Thorne, Tristan, Uriel, Valerian, Void, Wither

Pronouns

[PT: Pronouns].

Blight / Blights / Blights, Broke / Break / Breaks, Crack / Cracks / Cracks, De / Decay / Decays, Dre / Dread / Dreads, Dust / Dusts / Dusts, Frac / Ture / Fracs, Grave / Graves / Graves, Hand / Hands / Hands, Hate / Hates / Hates, Ruin / Ruins / Ruins, Scratch / Scratches / Scratchs, Scream / Screams / Screams, Spi / Ral / Spir [Spiral], Vil / Lain / Lains [Villain], Wreck / Wrecks / Wrecks

Titles

[PT: Titles].

[Pronoun] Who Dreams of a World Without Heroes, [Pronoun] Who Hates Hero Society, [Pronoun] Whose Quirk Destroys All, [Pronoun] Whose Whose Touch Brings Ruin, A Child Broken by the World, A Shadow of What Was, The [Noun] Who Lost Everything, The Crumbling Force, The Decaying Future, The Dreaded Leader of the League, The Hand That Crushes Hope, The Heir to All For One, The Shattered One, The Symbol of Destruction

[ID: A purple thin line divider shaded at the bottom, End ID].

Requested by @k9collective

Also tagging: @id-pack-archive

[theuntouchedandundead]

INTRODUCTION AND BOUNDARIES !!! (important, read all)

This is a blog specifically dedicated to a subsystem of (primarily) MHA fictives, known as the Vanguard Action Squad 2.0 :3

When referring to us as a whole, you can call us Tomu, Mimi, or Linden

we will not specify our views on many things, but when we do, do not try to change them. you can specify your own views, and we will respect them, but I can assure you our views will not change unless we have a good reason.

we are bodily a minor, and have no specific opinions on radqueers and endos as they change a lot. however, both are welcome on my page, and transID's can be added to Alter Packs or ID Packs on request.

Services We Offer:

we can make alter packs, ID packs, and any other services you request. we will try our best to fulfil all requests to a high standard.

Asks can also be used to ask questions for a specific alter, especially about source. go wild with what you ask, as long as you don't overstep bounderies.

Individual Bounderies + Introductions:

Tomura Shigaraki:

-he/him/it& pronouns (tho don't really care what you call me)

-20 (in headspace)

-trying to become the new host 🔥

-aromantic

-video game enjoyer

-dont call me crusty 😭

-Refer to me by my full name or first name, but never just "Shigaraki"

-Asks: can send asks about video games, source or pretty much anything ngl

-Things I'll make: Alter packs, ID packs, stimboards, fanart

-signoff: -Tomura or -🧷

-Bounderies: I don't mind dm's, as long as they don't get overly flirty or aggressive.

Twice:

-he/they prns :D

-21 (in headspace)

-Bisexual king >;3

-we use a lot of emoticons and will also switch between singular and plural pronouns :3

-its Twice, not Jin

-Asks: I'm open to just about anything, just please do not send me asks about Hawks :>

-Things I'll Make(on request) : Alter Packs, ID Packs

-Signoff: -Twice or -🎭

-Bounderies: I am open to dm's, and am openly looking for friends or maybe even a partner :D

Fumikage:

-they&/it& pronouns

-16 (in headspace)

-biroace

-Tokoyami introject

-dont mind the nicknames Fumi/Toko, assuming we get close enough to use nicknames

-yes, dark shadow still lives inside me, and is still sentient. we don't consider him another headmate, but I& consider myself as a headmate plural because of it.

-Asks: open to anything, will answer all asks

-Things I& will make: Alter Packs, Stimboards, ID packs, any other requests

-Signoff: -Fumikage

Himiko:

-she/they pronouns ^w^

-14-19 (in headspace, age slider)

-bi and poly :0

-uses lots of silly little emoji thingys ^^

-very source connected

-Asks: anything, literally!! I love answering questions ^^

-Things I'll make: ID Packs, Alter Packs, fanart ^^

-signoff: -Himiko -🌸🩸

-Bounderies: please DM omg ^^ looking for friends / partner 🙏🏽🙏🏽

Jin Bubaigawara:

-h?/h?m

-31 (in headspace)

-another Twice introject (well, Jin not Twice, but yeah)

-aromantic pansexual

-Asks: anything, I'll deny it if it makes me uncomfortable tho

-Things I'll do/make: anon confessions, alter packs, ID packs

-signoff: -Jin or -Bubaigawara

-Bounderies: dm's are open, just be cautious

Tenko:

-i won't say much about him, he's a child

-any pronouns

-4-10 (age slider, headspace)

-Asks: open to ask

-Will make: nothing. he won't interact with the blog that much as he is much younger than the other owners. he may come online and answer a few asks when he feels confident though

-signoff: -Tenko or -Shimura

-if you somehow manage to get close with him, he might let you call them Ten

-they are looking for a caregiver, if anyone would be interested

Izuku:

-he/them

-17(in headspace)

-Tomura's brother, neither villain nor hero

-panromantic ace, demiromantic

-Asks: go ahead, ask anything

-Things I'll do: anything, upon request

-signoff: -Izu, -Zuku, -Deku, -🌸

-bounderies: dm's are open :D

Shigaraki:

-yeah, I'm another Shigaraki 😭

-19

-gaming ngl... >>>

-aroace in a wayy! greyromantic as well

-i like things to do with rot and death

-Asks: anything.

-Things I'll do: anything requested, but I particularly like making fictive alter packs

-signoff: -🎮, -Shigaraki, -Shiggy

-bounderies: DM, tho I may not always answer

Tagging System:

Alter packs:

𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖒𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖇𝖞 . . . 🧷 Tomura

𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖒𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖇𝖞 . . . 🌪️ Twice

𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖒𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖇𝖞 . . . 🎭 Jin

𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖒𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖇𝖞 . . . 🌸🩸 Himiko

𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖒𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖇𝖞 . . . Fumikage

𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖒𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖇𝖞 . . . 🌸 Izuku

𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖒𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖇𝖞 . . . 🎮 Shigaraki

(all self explanatory)

𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖒𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖇𝖞 . . . an unknown entity . . .

(was created by another headmate)

Text posts:

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆Tomura's decay

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆Himiko's rambles (^-^)

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆Twice's rambles (^-^)

🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐Jin's textposts

���☆⋆｡🪼𖦹°‧★🐚Tenko's chatter :3

༘⋆₊ ⊹★🔭๋࣭ ⭑⋆｡˚ Fumikage's musings

˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚ Izuku's notes

🦇💀🌿🦷 Shigaraki's rot

(self explanatory)

System related posts:

𓇼 🌊 🐚Headspace notes

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍂 ⋅New headmate intro!!

୭🧷✧˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀Other system posts!!

memes/shitposts:

✧˖°ʚ🍓ɞ♡ Izuku's jokes

🌷🧺*:･ Himiko's sillies ^w^

★🎸🎧⋆｡ °⋆ Fumikage's memes

🪬🫧🫶🏻🤍 Tomura's sh*tposts

˚⋆°˖ ～ 🍂࿔ ฅ Twice's memezz :PP

‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹ ♡ Jin's jokes

✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Tenko's sillies !

___ ★₊˚﹟🪐 ' Shigarakis shizz

(self explanatory)

coining posts:

¸.*☆*.¸ that's my shiz 🔥 (self indulgent)

★🎸🎧⋆｡ °⋆ coined by Fumikage

˚‧｡⋆🌻⋆｡‧˚ coined by Izuku

⋆˚🐾˖° coined by Twice

ᝰ.ᐟ꩜ coined by Jin !!

⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃🎐 ⋆ coined by Tomura

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ coined by Shigaraki

˚ ༘ .˚🌱୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ coined by Himiko (^-^)

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ 🧸ྀི coined by Izuku

(self explanatory)

𓍢ִ໋🀦⃝🪼〰꩜ a new identity . . .

(TransID coin)

｡⋆༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚ addicted to you . . .

(xenosexuality coin)

⋆｡° ✮ pretty :0

(flag design / redesign)

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ show them what you're made of !!

(gender/gender term coin)

ᝰ.ᐟ꩜ let's go !!

(system term coin)

⋆｡° ✮ let's party !!

(other term coin)

reblogs:

•|☆✨🌕☆•| Fumikage's abyss

🍙♡ ‹𝟹㊗🎧 Izuku's hero notebook 🔥

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆ Himiko's blood collection

.° ༘🎧⋆🖇₊˚ෆ Tomura's hands

ﮩـﮩﮩ٨ـ🫀ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ Jin's collection

˙ ✩°˖🫐 ⋆｡˚꩜ Twice's reblogs ^w^

𓇼🐚☾☼🦪 Tenko's stuffz

🎐🫧🦋🧿💠🌀 Shigaraki's video game collection

(all self explanatory)

(yes, I spamtagged this for reach 😭)

[alienidolism]

hello! could i request some npts for a Tomura Shigaraki (My hero academia) kin? please and thank you

yeah sure !! i forget alot about bnha so apologies about that !

names

dusty , april , blanc , paranorma , scratches , malicia , one , calamity , cadaver , carcass , bone , carrion , grime , anti , tenebris , rotten , soot , wither , carious

pronouns

decay/decays , morgue/morgues , rust/rusts , rot/rots , para/paranormals , itch/itches , scratch/scratches , malice/malicious , disgust/disgusts , evil/evils , quirk/quirks , corrupt/corrupts/corruption , dead/death

titles

the symbol of fear , the pale one , (prn) who is decaying , the league of villains leader , the one with many hands , the leader of the paranormal liberation front , the singularity , (prn) who's against the world , (prn) who steals quirks

hope these are okay ! thank you for requesting !!

[mechanicalmechanism]

IDPack 〜 Tomura Shigaraki ✦

( Warnings for the following . . . blood , gore , murder , death )

꒰NAMES꒱ 〜 Aemilius , Almund , Ammiras , Amon , Ansel , Anselm , Anselmo , Anubis , Apollyon , Arius , Asmund , Athanasius , Atol , Atreus , Atreyus , Atrophy , Balor , Baltazar , Balthasar , Balthazar , Blight , Blighte , Casimir , Casimiro , Charon , Church , Coven , Decay , Doyle , Efe , Egesa , Eldrige , Ellender , Emiel , Emil , Emerence , Emerentine , Emerentius , Emereo , Emeric , Enzi , Eunan , Faramond , Faramund , Faron , Fingal , Fulco , Ira , Irie , Kazimierz , Kazimir , Kazmer , Khalida , Khal , Kuno , Leofric , Letum , Leviathan , Mal , Malice , Mallory , Malthe , Manibus , Merger , Miel , Monte , Montgomery , Mora , Morana , Mortem , Mortis , Mortimer , Mourn , Mourner , Nemesis , Nev , Newell , Orhan , Osiris , Oswald , Oz , Pastor , Perses , Perseus , Pharamond , Proserpine , Prosper , Renard , Reynard , Roric , Rory , Rot , Rust , Serdar , Shig , Sin , Sinister , Sovereign , Styx , Ulric , Vestige , Voss , Wane , Wither , Wolfric , Wulfric , Wyther

꒰PRONOUNS꒱ 〜 De/Decays , Rot/Rots , Vil/Villains , Fear/Fears , Scratch/Scratches , Order/Orders , It/Its , Thing/Things , Molt/Molts , Vis/Vis'/Visage/Visages , Gore/Gores , Kill/Kills , Hurt/Hurts , One/Ones , Power/Powers , Hor/Horrors , Cor/Corrupts , Being/Beings , Hate/Hates , Scar/Scars , Vis/Viscera/Visceras , Void/Voids , Suf/Suffers , Warp/Warps , Twist/Twists , Mal/Mals , Epithet/Epithets , Sin/Sins , Sinister/Sinisters , Stare/Stares , (

꒰TITLES꒱ 〜 Holder of One For All , He Who Hates All * , Enemy of the World , Collector of Hands , He Who Destroys * , He Who Yearns to Destroy * , ( The ) Symbol of Fear , Grand Commander , His Immortality * , He Who is Ambiguously Human * , Vestige of the Monarch , ( The ) Chosen One , ( The ) Antichrist , Your Villain , Hated by All , His Omnicidal Presence * , Omnicidal Maniac , Ruler of All Villains , Thou With a Thirst for Violence * , Transcendent One , The Berserker , ( The ) Dark Messiah , He Who Has Risen from the Dead * , ( The ) Blood Knight , Hands of Flesh and Blood , (The ) Mass of Hands and Flesh , He Who Has Been Reborn * , The Next One For All , ( The ) Monarch With Clipped Wings , He Who Has Shed His Past Self * , ( The ) Cosmic Plaything , ( The ) Plaything of the Cosmos , ( The ) Misanthrope Supreme , Death of a Thousand Cuts , The Merger , Heart of Malice / Sin , He Whose Heart Rots * , The Dreaded , He Who Cannot Comprehend Good * , Eviler than Thou , The Faceless , Humanoid Abomination , Parasite of Power , He Who Resents * , His Grotesque Assemblage * , His Unwitting Pawn * ( Any Title with * next to it includes a pronoun that can be changed and all titles can be adjusted two your liking . . . ! )

꒰TERMS꒱ 〜 Antagogender , Bodyhorroric , Corruptbeing , Crucifixic , Deadantag , Decaytemasc , Decayvoidic , Denigrafacieic , Evilembodiment , Fearix , Fleshbutterflyix , Genderdark , Genderdecay , Hatebeing , Humanish , Mortemvitic , Obsessrotic , Offhuman , Pasrian , Putregender , Ragebodiment , Rivonia , Scargender , Villaithing , Viscerarian , Voidinwatchic

[angeltism]

this is a sign i should get the shigaraki reaper skin- [GETS SHOT]

[rueclfer]

get a taste // tomura shigaraki

a/n: in the gc talking abt vape and cig discourse between dabi n shigs -> fujos out a bit -> wait this is kinda hot -> sick n twisted brainrot aaaahhh

you reach over and press your index finger right in between his eyebrows.

there's nearly nothing that could melt that scowl from tomura's face- especially when everyone's behind him obnoxiously crowded around the bar with playing cards and drinks in hand, the music's a bit too loud for his liking, and he's having a hard time focusing.

"tomura, i can't take you seriously with that thing attached to your mouth like a fucking binky." you call over the music, dropping your hand back into your lap.

his eyes slowly travel up from his phone screen to meet yours. you weren't even sure if he caught anything you said over the blaring music, but you could still read the irritation in his face. his gaze flickers back and forth between the clash of clans running on his phone and you.

he blinks once. twice.

tomura drops the vape from his mouth, letting it fall into his lap, and without missing a beat, blows the intoxicatingly sweet smoke into your face, engulfing you whole with a smirk tugging at the edge of his lips.

"better than whatever the fuck you're smoking over there, right?" he nods towards the half smoked cigarette in between your fingers that you stole from touya's pack.

"better?" you roll your eyes, waving away the lingering smoke. "grow up, tomu. you're smoking birthday cake flavored nicotine. you haven't even smoked a cigarette before."

"i don't need to smoke it to know it tastes like shit." he stretches his legs over your lap, leaning back against the armrest of the couch.

you turn your hand around, facing the orange filter of the cigarette towards him. with your eyebrow slightly cocked and mouth parted into a smirk, tomura knew it was less of an invitation, but rather a dare. a challenge.

"go ahead, babe. give it a try if you're not a bitch."

tomura wets his lips with his tongue. his gaze drops down to the lipstick stained orange filter hanging from between your fingers. he wonders if he could taste your chapstick residue on it, or what your skin smells like brushed against his nose.

would you put your lips on it right after his drag? willingly taste him?

he silently cursed himself.

"pass." he scoffs, turning his head to the side, unsure if the heat crawling up his neck had taken form in a flush. 

he was halfway surprised that you hadn't noticed his piercing stare every time your lips wrapped around the cigarette for a drag. he swore the desperate look in his eyes was so obvious- a silent wish that it was him between your lips instead.

you press your lips together in a line as you take another glance around the room. everyone seemed occupied. drunk. sloppy. no one's paying attention.

you lean forward, catching his face in your free hand, and forcing him to look up towards you.

"the fuck-" he starts.

"don't freak out, tomu." you interrupt. "you know what to do."

you hum to yourself as you bring your fingers up to your lips, deeply inhaling the bitter tang of burnt tobacco.

your eyes remained locked onto tomura's. he's looking at you in a sickly satisfying horror with his eyes wide, cheeks flushed, and mouth slightly gaped open from your firm grasp on his jaw.

he squirms a bit under your grasp, but tomura doesn’t look away from you- he doesn't dare to. not with you over him like this and your face only inching closer to his.

you pull yourself down over him, mere millimeters away from connecting your lips.

the smoke slowly wisp out of your mouth and into his- a slow acceptance before both of your eyes flutter shut and you empty your lungs into his. 

you feel his hands climb up the side of your thighs and rest on your hips, lightly squeezing you through the fabric of your pants.

"fuck." he mutters, trails of smoke escaping his mouth.

"yummy?" you chuckle, exhaling any remnants of smoke in your lungs.

it doesn't seem like you care or noticed at all, but all tomura could think about was you straddling him on the couch and your warm thighs hugging his torso.

he felt hot all over, his lungs were burning, there's a bitter taste in the back of his throat, his head feels light, and despite it all, he wanted more.

"do you, um, wanna taste mine?"

-

mha tag: @lotuslovers @babylambdietcoke @0skullyard0

[dadsbongos]

virgins can have kinks too!

4.1 k words / summary - multi-chap posts of me experimenting with smut writing

warnings - piv, unprotected sex + creampies, virgin shiggy, college au, porn with minimal plot, partially clothed sex, BRIEF suicide joke, fem reader, 18+ mndi

~~~

If Tomura could go back and change any one thing in his life, it'd probably be how you two met.

Touya is messy enough to live with, now Tomura was forced to account for all the dirt-clodded shoes and unwashed hands of strangers coming into contact with his possessions. Those first hinting throbs of a headache were beginning to tease at Tomura’s pterion, and unfortunately his only access to water was blocked off by a thick weld of moist, musty athletes. Not that they intimidated Tomura, of course, they were just… an optional pain that he’d rather avoid. All their clunky terminology went over his head, and in his experience the people that Touya invites to his parties are not the inclusive type. What Tomura did understand was that they were perfectly posted up against their kitchen sink so as to be as inconvenient as possible; intending to verbally batter whatever unfortunate girl tried snagging from the fridge.

To be fair to them, though, tap water was Tomura’s backup plan. His initial objective was to sneakily steal a plastic bottle before returning to his room. All those were gone, which is sooo funny to Tomura because he’s certain that he just bought a forty pack yesterday.

Yet if Tomura were to point that out, Touya would just shift blame back onto his recluse roommate for knowingly leaving out water when he was inviting people over. So he doesn’t bother finding the stupid punk.

Similarly, he doesn’t so much as attempt either bathroom sink for water. One being annoyingly split off between the kitchen and Tomura’s room, and the other in Touya’s room. Touya’s room was a self imposed no-no for Tomura during their day-to-day, so he can’t fathom a reason to enter during the degenerate’s party. Judging by occasional thumps and ever shifting shadows beneath the gap, Tomura assumes the shared bath is in no better shape.

Right as he sets to retreat, his eyes zoom across their open floor plan -- all the way into the living room, honing in on two girls. One familiar from their shared mythology class, and the other entirely foreign. Himiko Toga is curled around the shoulders of the second girl, twirling strands of mystery girl’s hair with her long fingers.

Himiko greedily consumes all things cute, she chews them up and keeps them between her teeth to amalgamate with the next adorable target her sights set on. By the end of her life, she’ll probably puke up a cat-eared ball of pink glitter tied up with bows and proudly proclaim it to be her life’s work.

Currently, he’s watching Himiko chow down on someone that he, surprisingly, also finds cute. It's distracting.

Himiko lowers her hands until both arms are wrapped around your waist, nails burrowing into the material of your shirt. Her cheek presses against your shoulder, loose strands of blonde hair tickling up your neck.

Your neck strangely captured Tomura, then. Thick with your pulse and tissue, he wants to feel it pillow under his teeth. His lips are rough and chapped and suddenly all he can think about is how they’d feel scarring up the soft flesh of your jugular.

Himiko must be thinking that too because he watches as she turns cheek and digs her nose into the juncture of your neck.

Oh.

Tomura blinks himself free of the stupor and shakes out his hands, then wiping them dry against his pants. He didn’t think Himiko could actually hold down a relationship.

“Whatcha starin’ at, boss?”

Voice so raggedy and low, almost a staticky purr at Tomura’s back, he can instantaneously pick out who it is.

“Did you know Himiko had a girlfriend?”

“Huh?” Touya steps forward, eyes narrowed out into the crowd, “Where? I can’t see shit.”

“I told you to just get contacts, moron,” Tomura grumbles, then pointing as inconspicuous as he can (not very at all) towards their mutual friend still slithered around the unknown girl.

“Kid, that’s not her girlfriend.”

Tomura looks up at Touya, glaring through tangled, powder blue bangs, “You’re joking, right? I’m not stupid.”

“Seriously, it’s not,” Touya snickers, “Why? You interested?” when Tomura can only silently seethe up at the man, Touya grins: a sight more disturbing than reassuring, his teeth are too big and prominent, the bags under his eyes crinkle up weirdly, and it reeks of selfish glee. Touya jams out his index and middle fingers, waggling the index first, “Which one? Blondie?” then his middle, “Or new girl?”

“I don’t want to talk about this with you,” Tomura knocks down the man’s hand with a disgruntled scoff, “You’re mental.”

“We’ve been friends awhile now, no?” Touya stubbornly returns to pointing, “I’ve never seen you get worked up over a girl, it’s funny. So, which one?”

“It’s funny?”

“I’ll set you up.”

Admitting to the fact he’s got a beating heart and libido is so embarrassing, which leads to Tomura halfheartedly muttering, “If I had a thing for Himiko, I wouldn’t have told you first.”

“You’re cute,” Touya quips, reaching up to pinch Tomura’s cheek between black-painted nails -- pointedly ignoring the annoyed huff and swat resulting. He steps around Tomura to venture through the jungle of his guests, “I’m on it.”

Touya is one of the best, and worst, people that Tomura has ever met. Touya is bothersome and rude and sometimes downright narcissistic, but also headstrong. Touya decided the day his dad bought him this house that he wanted to room with the dork from his freshman year geography lecture. Touya decided that Tomura and him were best friends when Tomura helped him pass their aforementioned geography class. Touya decided last year that the pair should bleach their hair together for a laugh. Touya decided just now to be Tomura’s wingman.

His singlemindedness pairs almost lethally well with his sense of loyalty. It almost made Touya seem… admirable.

Tomura internally gags over the thought, quickly refocusing on real life where Touya is leading Himiko (who is leading her mystery friend via deathgrip on your hand) back towards the kitchen.

Himiko giggles upon seeing Tomura, “You thought we were dating?”

Nevermind. Touya is just as insufferable as he was three years ago badgering Tomura for his lecture notes.

“Be nice. You’re so touchy, I’m sure everyone thought we’re together,” mystery girl squeezes Himiko’s hand, then smiling over at Tomura, “But I’m totally single.”

Oh.

Touya’s the most direct, masterminded person Tomura’s ever met.

All that masterminding goes to utter waste if Tomura can’t wake up and relearn social cues, though. Touya jabs an elbow into Tomura’s gaunt side, ribs aching from the blow.

“Okay,” Tomura nods dumbly, swallowing the unease trapped in his throat and once again drying his hands against his sweatpants.

“If you couldn’t tell,” Touya yanks Himiko into his side and out of your hold, “So is he.”

Himiko whines and reaches out as Touya drags her off, the pair slinking somewhere deep into the crowd of thrashing, bumbling bodies.

“You don’t look much like the party type,” you hum, maybe a little unhelpfully. Tried and true method of flirting, however, is being just a tad mean. A less fluffy version of the tragic come here often? line is sure to crack this man’s icy exterior.

“My roommate,” Tomura flings a thumb over in the direction Himiko was hauled off, “He’s the delinquent, I just share the space,” suddenly the insides of his sweatpants are too hot, and so is the flimsy white shirt on his chest, “I just wanted water.”

Sweltering air beats from the center of his chest down to his ankles, even tickling up his neck. The longer you stare at him, the hotter his body feels. Scorching up his face too, burning away layers of dried, ungroomed skin to reveal every muscle twinge. Tomura wants to both comb his hair back and hide behind the strands (most of all, though, he wishes he’d bothered brushing it whatsoever before making his venture). Being so trapped between either option makes his brain short circuit until he’s, rather bashfully, tucking hair behind his ear like some blushing ingenue.

Thankfully you don’t appear troubled by the sight, instead grinning wider and even laughing at his admission (Tomura likes your smile: lips giving prominence to flattering teeth, balls of your cheeks plumping, and lashes fluttering. Definitely more lovely than Touya’s). You fold your arms, “Poor thing. You probably don’t wanna be stuck out here, huh?”

Insecurity visibly crawls along the downward twitch of your lips, your brows furrowing. Tomura stares at you, committing each divot and angle of your body to memory. By the time he’s finished, he realizes you’re waiting for him to respond.

“Yeah…” he mutters lamely, scratching at the crackled film of skin over his chelidon, then smoothing a thumb into the depression as his heart hammers up his throat -- pressing a disarray of words against his palate. They linger by his uvula, gagging him into stunned silence, until he can finally choke out an uneven, “Do you wanna go back to my room?”

As soon as the question was in the air, buzzing unattended between your faces, Tomura wanted to claw out his eyeballs. Maybe rip out his tongue, too. Such gore would surely erase any memories of his implying he thought he had a chance with you. That was far preferable to the disgust about to cross your face.

Except, that disgust never comes.

Alternatively, you nod, “Sounds fun!”

Tomura kept his area tidy enough. A stack of bowls, two cups, three empty Dr. Pepper cans, and a single Maruchan ramen cup on his desk. A lump of clothes he’s procrastinated washing carefully lines the edge of his bed. But that was all, really.

He wanted his room to be livable, and if he felt so childish as to be proud of it then he liked the sight of his uncluttered carpet. How easily he could make the trek from bed to computer to door (and, of course, the desultory detours to his bookcase or closet) without tripping on trash or abundantly strewn clothes. If he felt further inclined to childishness, Tomura even congratulated himself on maintaining a room cleaner than Touya’s.

Even despite the stacked bowls and cups on his desk and emptied soda bottles cluttering his desk legs.

None of that is sufficient anymore. He’s inspecting your face like it’ll burst open with an alien race for any sign of judgment. Cautiously, Tomura kicks a tangle of loose shirts under his bed while you’re distracted ogling his decorated shelves.

“You like Omori?” your question startles him from kicking a pair of boxers under his bed.

“Huh?”

You’re pointing at a lineup of four acrylic stands -- not the complete set, Tomura only burdened his wallet with purchasing the main party over including Basil and Mari -- on the top shelf of his bookcase, “Omori, right? I didn’t think you’d like that type of game.”

“Do I not look like I would?” he doesn’t know why that inference hurts his feelings. Shamefully, he cards his fingers through his knotted hair, slotting more locks behind his ear, “I played it a long time ago. Now I’m too busy for anything else story-driven, so I’m mostly on League. Or Overwatch if I feel like killing myself.”

“You don’t look like you like suffering, I guess is what I meant,” you draw your bottom lip up between your teeth (he hopes it doesn’t sting, he wants to kiss it better if it does), “But knowing you play Overwatch…”

“I try to avoid it,” Tomura prays his self-grooming is subtle, or at least lowkey enough for you to not notice as you continue browsing his various knick knacks and figures, “You game?”

“Eh, RPGs usually. I don’t like working with others when I play, it makes me nervous to screw up.”

“That’s cute,” he doesn’t mean to say it aloud, honestly. Two measly words small enough to slip through his pursed lips. Two words big enough to ruin his night.

“Think so?” but you’re… smiling again.

“I guess,” Tomura’s eyes shift quickly over to his pillows. Are they soft enough? Should he flip them over? What the hell is fluffing, and does it actually do anything?

“Are you usually this shy? Or am I special?”

Not often does Tomura feel truly helpless, but your incessant teasing pairs lethally with your fluttering lashes and painted lips. He wishes he were more accustomed to conversing with strangers, especially pretty strangers that were interested in him. Part of him wants to believe that if you’re attracted to him now, you’ll be stubborn enough to stick out whatever cluelessness he bumbles out -- but he doesn’t. He simply cannot bring himself to buy that.

“You’re making me nervous, like I’m about to puke.”

“Flattering,” you join Tomura on his bed, soft knee nudging his, “I hope you don’t. It’d kinda ruin the mood.”

He’s terribly unable to keep the casanova impersonation up, though, “What mood?”

You throw your head back and laugh. Hearty and full and so mortifying for him, worse are your next words, “You know why people go into private rooms at parties, right?”

“Uhh…”

“You do. I do, too. That’s why I came back here, you know? If you only wanna talk, that’s fine -- you’re fun to just talk to! But I came back here ‘cuz I want to have sex with you, if you want to, too.”

Tomura can feel that dreaded heartbeat climbing up his chest and into his gullet again.

“You’re forward…”

You shrug, “I know what I want.”

Tomura claws at his sweatpants, chest aching and fingers numb from how your eyes are zeroed on him. He nods slowly, racketing another giggle from your chest -- you lean closer, your hand brushes his.

“Yeah?” you coax a hand around Tomura’s far shoulder, swiveling him to face you.

A rattle and hum from his ceiling fan gurgles the sound of his reply, you hate it.

From the shape of his lips, you can make out his agreement. With no specific intent and only a general sense of lust to guide him, Tomura leans into your touch. Snatching his hands, you shuffle his palms under your shirt, sifting the flesh up your warm belly until they’re cupping your tits. He squeezes blindly, teetering closer along his mattress. Finally, you strip off your top -- then greedily going for Tomura’s as well. He contently allows it, even lifting his arms to grant the removal.

“You’re so pretty,” Tomura noses at your neck, hot puffs of air warming your skin, “Can’t believe you’re actually here.”

His hands are soft from a lax life, if slightly clammy with nerves, and they feel nice squeezing around your hips. Tomura dips his pelvis downward, keeping your thighs scooped snug around him -- bonus for the momentary relief of pressure against his aching groin. His fingers bow beneath the waistband of your skirt until your own are tethering his in place.

“Can I leave the skirt on?” your thighs tighten around Tomura’s slim waist, you tilt your head so your soft lips press against his cheek, “Its kinda hot. To me.”

Tomura rolls his shoulders, whole body shuddering at the request. He nods with clenched eyes, digging his nails into your skin -- he likes your idea more than he can put into words (granted, his tongue may as well be superglued to his teeth right now).

“I can do that,” he manages to scrape out, drawing his fingers down the bunched material of your skirt and up your thighs, “Can I take these off?”

“Please,” you cant your hips up for Tomura to yank off your panties, he bundles them in one hand and stows the other where the material once laid. You swear you hear him whimper at the contact.

His fingers dance up your slit, gentle massaging that intensifies upon introduction of his thumb on your clit. Tomura drops your underwear off the side of his bed and uses the freed palm to work off his sweatpants, but just before he can snap the drawstring -- he stops completely.

“Wait,” he pants, “Hang on. Don’t move.”

Tomura runs out like he’s caught fire, slamming his bedroom door shut behind him and leaving you splayed on his mattress.

He returns with a fist curled around something, and determination written in the lines of his face. Replacing himself between your thighs, Tomura hides the contents in his hand under the pillow beneath you. Before you can shoot any questions, he’s lifting your skirt and lowering his chest to the bed.

As if he can sense the curiosity burning away your mood, Tomura hurriedly buries his face in your cunt.

One gasp is stuttered short by another, Tomura flicks his tongue inside you with a groan. Pulling back only to spit on your clit, the liquid bubbling down your slit until it catches on his prodding fingertips -- your thighs jolt around his shoulders at the act. Middle finger worming into you with ease, Tomura’s burdened by the vestige of Touya’s hand on his shoulder and husks into his ear.

Yeah, condoms are in the top drawer. You need advice?

He’d been uneasy initially, nodding uncertainly, but Tomura’s grateful now.

Just as he’d been instructed, Tomura curls his middle finger and screws the pad up until- your knee knocks into his skull and he keens at the rough treatment.

“S-sorry,” you stammer out, chest arching up.

Bypassing your apology, Tomura flattens his tongue on your clit and slithers a second finger inside you. Surely by tomorrow, his arm will be sore with the work he’s pushing through, but he’s equally sure it’s worth it as you clamp around him and seize.

Strumming your gspot in time with your clit, Tomura loses himself in the thought of how your snatch would feel around his cock -- grinding against the marshmallow mattress below to relieve the pressure. Your only relief is how he greedily sucks your clit; he lets you grab his hair with both hands and roughly tug him to and fro. He lets you fuck his face, eats it up in earnest.

Prying your thighs back from his ears, Tomura shoves his sweatpants down and reaches under your head. Pulling back a foil square that crinkles with each nervous shake of his hand. Tomura’s plain black boxers soon crash to the floor as well.

“Hey,” your voice pipes up meekly, a little slurred after your orgasm. Drowsy eyes half-lidded and even sweeter on him, “Can you, uh…”

Tomura’s burning hot, flushed and vaguely sticky; bangs slickened against his face with sweat and cum. His breathlessness axiomatic of how little composure he could maintain, “What?”

“Don’t…” a shyness that now seems bizarre overtakes you, your fingers curl into his palm and unfurl the condom from his grasp, “You shouldn’t… I wanna feel you.”

He blinks down at you vapidly. So stupidly blank he's immediately ashamed of himself for blanching at your plea.

“You want it too, right?” you reach up and paw at Tomura's shoulders, “You wanna fuck me raw?”

“Uh-huh,” again dumb.

Tomura spares that response no reconsideration, instead preoccupied by holding your thighs open to nudge his cock into you. His tip bobs at your clit in the first few jerks, but his thinly construed patience is rewarded on the third attempt. You tug on his hair as Tomura humps into your sex.

He whines upon feeling that first squeeze and suck of entering your cunt, his pelvis itching up against your clit with every thrust. Blunt nails carve into the fat of your thighs, pulling you impossibly closer -- Tomura’s cock carves deep into your gut, hot and heavy. Chapped lips sear up the length of your neck, his chest squashing against yours, he teeths at the lump of your pulse and lathes the thumping point with his tongue. Budding his knees right beneath your ass, Tomura burdens the tops of his thighs against yours. Then wrapping your waist with both arms, continuing to suck your soft skin between his teeth.

Tomura gasps as the warmth of your hands finds his back, rolling lower and lower until you’re actively pushing him closer. He likes this -- loves it, even. He’s horrified to know he could’ve been having sex his entire college career and simply didn’t.

He’s further horrified that perhaps he’ll never have sex again when you leave (but mostly, he’s finding that he just doesn’t want you to leave).

“Be my girlfriend,” delirious, he’s babbling into your ear, whining and shuttering and smothering your body with his, “Be my girlfriend…! Wanna fuck you every day-- need you every day. So fucking warm and soft, all perfect for my cock,” Tomura pulls up from your neck to kiss the thin stretch of skin over your collarbones and treading to your breasts, “Like you’re made for taking it.”

What you want is to have the mental cognition to respond to him kindly, but what you have is a mushy brain and a flourishing climax scorching through your body. Grey matter melting into the bowl of your skull as Tomura kisses and pants into your tits.

“Tomu’-!” is all you can manage to squeal, nails digging jagged red lines down the man’s back.

“You cumming?” he reaches between your bodies to incise the pads of his fingers across your sodden clit.

A final push into your sensitive body, the attention spiking your head back into his pillow. Faintly, through the rush of dopamine pumping through your extremities to where your hanging mouth is expelling wanton wails of Tomu’! and yes, God! and cumming!, you can hear Tomura. You can hear him chuckling low and deep with ecstasy, “So pretty when you cum. Squeezing me so tight, too. You like me that much?”

He whines unexpectedly, wrenching both hands to your hips and branding the imprint of his calloused palms there.

“You’re gonna make me cum,” he grits his teeth, scratchy throat puking up pulpy, disjointed moans of your name and fuck, fuck fucks, “I’m gonna cum,” he latches onto your tit, muffling his pathetic mewls as your legs lock him in your cunt (trembly and weak as they may be), “Cumming, cumming- ! Fuck!”

Stilling above you, Tomura chokes out soft breaths and murmurs of appreciation as he cums. Sincerely thanking you as his spend paints your insides. Collapsing on you once his balls are empty. Tomura barely has the wherewithal to roll onto his side in order to avoid overheating you under him.

A rattle and hum from his ceiling fan regains your attention, but this time it doesn’t seem too bad. You can’t find yourself to be very annoyed, even when the music pumping from outside vibrates Tomura’s bedroom door. Above those sounds, the one you appreciate most is the soft pelting of Tomura’s breath against your neck; damp with a mixture of sweat and his saliva, and sore from his incessant teething.

“Did you mean it?” you’re probably being mean, asking such a layered question so immediately after his release.

“About?” his voice is raggedy, sharp to a bladepoint -- if you couldn’t see the dazed, awestruck film over his lidded eyes, you’d mistake him as trying to be rude.

“Me being your girlfriend. Did you actually mean that? Or did your dick have the braincell?”

“Oh,” Tomura pushes onto his elbows, arms shaking, his hair drops over his face and this time you’re the one to brush it behind his ear. Despite cumming in you minutes ago, he blushes at the gesture and looks at your bruising neck rather than your eyes, “I guess. I don’t have a car, so I can’t drive you around for dates.”

“I can take the bus, you know,” you laugh at how Tomura’s face suddenly sours at your words.

“As if I’d let my girlfriend take the bus by herself. Do you know how many freaks go on that thing?”

“‘Cuz you’d know.”

“Yeah, I’m one of them,” the giddiness rising in his chest over your giggling at his jab quickly overtakes his face, cheeks burning with a proud smile. Tomura hides his face in your neck, “I guess it’s up to you.”

“It's up to me if you were serious or not?”

Quietly, he hums, then rasps out something you could construe as a joke if you didn’t care so much about how he felt, “I only open to begging in the sheets. Being desperate to date the first girl I fuck is so pathetic.”

Which is so insane to you because you met this man only a few hours ago.

A broiling affection that builds between the slats of your ribs, bricking off your lungs and heart just to cook them up hot and gooey and primed for the man on your chest. At least Tomura’s burgeoning crush could be reasoned away with the fact he’s a recent ex-virgin (not like you, with visitors running rarer than Tanzanite).

Still fluttery and alight with the wash of your orgasm, you give your heart the braincell and nod sluggishly, “Yeah. I want you to be serious.”

Decidedly, you spare no mind how you two barely know each other.

[pfpanimes]

⌕ boku no hero academia 7 - EP 20.

like or reblog if you save/use. 🤍

[kingtomura]

Uber Eats

synopsis: What a crappy Friday night! You’re the only driver for your restaurant and you have to deliver to this Tomura S. guy. The worst part? He never tips. wc: 2.7k content: tomura shigaraki x female reader, quirkless au, oral (f! receiving), overstim, degredation, vaginal fingering, mdni cross posted to ao3

You hated this guy. 

He ordered every week without fail, like clockwork. 

“Do I have to make this delivery?” You ask your manager, wishing the ticket in your hand would burst into flames. 

It did not. 

The black ink only stared back at you as you stewed in your own misery: 

Tomura S. 

“You’re the only driver we have!” Your manager calls back to you, tossing some rice around in a wok before dropping it into a takeout container. “But after this, you’re good to go.” he placed the next order into the wok and the hiss of the food only added to the bustle of the restaurant.

You sigh, accepting your fate and crumple the receipt in your hand. It was the last delivery of the night so you find solace in at least being able to leave once you were done.

This guy was a known regular, and better known for not leaving a tip. Ever. It didn’t matter how big the order was and it didn’t matter what the weather had been outside — Tomura S. would not tip. And unfortunately for you it seemed he was more likely to order on your shift so you had to be the one to deliver. What awful luck.

Your manager waves you off after he finishes packing Tomura’s order and you step outside to your bike. It was about a fifteen minute bike ride, and the sweet promise of going home was all the motivation you needed to get it over and done. You put the order in the front basket of your bike and were off, hitting more than a few bumps in the road on your way.

Once you reach the apartment complex, you set your bike aside and head up to his door.

You’ve been here many times before, but that doesnt stop the nerves. 

Tomura was an… interesting fellow. Never a smile on his face and rarely a thank you. 

You steel yourself at the door of his apartment, taking a breath before raising your fist to knock. Maybe today would be different, you ponder, shifting your weight to cool your nerves. Maybe he would tip generously and send you on your way.

Everything could all be a big misunderstanding and you start to feel yourself get a little hopeful. He could be a nice guy under that rocky demeanor — maybe you’ve misjudged him.

The door opens with a little too much force and a vermillion glare meets your eyes. 

You feel yourself falter under his gaze. “Um, Tomura?" You put on the best smile you could and extend your arm, the bag of takeout presented to him. "Here’s your order.”

He looks down at the bag and then back up to you — carmine eyes giving away ill hidden boredom before ripping it from your hand and turning on his heels. The slam of his door making you jolt as you strained to hear his muttered thanks. So quiet you’re sure you may have imagined it. 

It would be generous to say you were shocked, but tonight had not been a kind night to you. A few too many potholes on your way here and a few too little tips given out has your lips pursed and fists clenching in anger. You had just about had it with this man. 

What was his deal? You come all this way, make sure his food is hot — hell, you even smile and that's still not enough. Well, you were done playing nice and found your fist tapping against his door before your brain could process your actions.

In less than a few seconds the door swung open, this time a much more annoyed Tomura greeting you. 

“What?” He rasped, face turned down into a scowl, much different from his earlier indifference. 

You don't waver, “What is your deal?”

His brows shoot up in surprise, “Excuse me?”

“I said, what is your deal? I’ve been delivering to you for months and not a single time have you tipped me! You know that's how I make a living right? It's just unfair.” you huff, exasperated.

This seems to surprise him further, and if you weren't crazy you would think that was amusement on his lips. “Tip? Is that what you want?”

You are surprised, but you nod. 

He huffs, taking a step back, “Fine.”

And then he’s gone. 

You’re not sure if he intends for you to follow him inside the apartment, but you have an idea that he wouldn't leave his door open otherwise — so, against your better judgment, you go in. 

It's dark in the apartment, and not very spacious. The dim lighting gives you little to work with but the blue light from the idle game screen playing on the tv in the living room helps you make out what you're looking at. Tomura has already gone deeper into the home, no doubt to his bedroom or wherever he may keep his money. You decide to stay where you are in the living room and look around a little.

The space wasn’t… awful, messy — yes, but not disgusting. It looked average to what any other twenty-something living alone would look like. 

You try not to make a habit of getting to know customers you deliver to, but judging from the nintendo switch docked near his television, it seems you may have a little in common. 

What surprises you are the anime figurines and plushies lining the bookshelf near the television. He didn’t strike you as a plushie enjoyer. Finding yourself smiling, you walk over to one. A green dino with goofy teeth and cute eyes. Cute. You reach out to touch it, the plushie feeling as soft as it looked.

The sound of footsteps on hardwood break your focus and you look back to see a grumpy Tomura, looking through his – assumedly empty –  wallet, “I don’t have any cash on me.”

His hair is fluffy and white, but looks a pale blue in the hue of the paused game on the television screen. His frustration is prominent in his scowl and you take this moment to really look at him, carmine eyes focused and brooding. He was taller than you originally thought and his black shirt was loose around the collar area, exposing his collar bones and you find your eyes drifting lower. You could tell he was toned under the thin black shirt he wore but you had never had a chance to really notice. Unconsciously, you lick your lips.

“Did you hear me?” 

Your eyes snap up, cheeks flushing, “Y-yeah!”

He huffed, irritation obvious but continued anyway, “well, what do you want?”

You don't know what you want anymore. If he doesn't have cash then it doesn’t matter. This seems like it may have just been an oversight on his part, so you may be better off letting this go. Maybe he would order again and tip you extra next time.

You take a few steps forward, every intention to walk by him and get to the front door when you stop, finally responding to his question, “nothing, just remember next time.” Your gaze catches his and then drifts lower, to his lips. Tomura catches the trail of your gaze and it forces you to look away. You swore there was a hint of a smile on his lips but maybe you were tired, it has been a long day. 

You shift your weight, ready to continue on your way out when Tomura reaches for your arm, grip tight and demanding. It takes you by surprise, but surprises you even further when he dips down and crashes his lips into yours, rough ones meeting the softness of yours. The kiss is not smooth or slow, but needy and hungry, Tomura playfully nipping your bottom lip before pulling away. 

“I have an idea,” he breathes and pulls you by the hand to his couch, falling ungracefully onto it and in an instant he's on top of you. 

Your cheeks are burning as you place both palms onto his chest to halt his movements, “H-hey, what are you doing?”

His laugh is low as if you should already know the plan. “I’m going to give you your tip.” 

And then he's down again, lips warm and demanding. A moan escapes your throat and you fist a hand in his hair, overwhelmed and desperate to get more of him. His tongue swipes your bottom lip and you waste no time letting him in. His large hand trailed down your side, and you pressed closer to him. He felt intoxicating, and arousal pooled in your belly as Tomura pulled away, panting. He was just as flushed as you knew you were, the wild look in his eyes only making the arousal between your thighs slicker.

Tomura trailed kisses down your jaw and neck, leaving soft bites in between licks. A particularly hard bite made you gasp, gripping his shoulder and turning your head, giving him better access to your neck.

He only chuckled, sitting back and looking down at you, “You look like whore.” he spat, teasing tone in his smile. “All spread out on my couch like this.”

His hands moved to your pants, popping the buttons and pulling them down. You should stop him, tell him to wait because you barely know him and it's a little soon, but his words have you biting your lip and lifting your hips to help him get your pants down and off. 

That only makes Tomura shake his head in disbelief, a pleased smile betraying his false disappointment. 

He reaches down and presses his middle finger to your clothed cunt, rubbing soft circles and laughs, “You’re soaked. Didn’t take you for such a slut.”

The words only spurred you on, spreading your legs further and closing your eyes. It felt good to finally get some kind of contact – he was right where he needed to be. Until he pulled away, leaving you more desperate and a complaint on your lips. You stop in your tracks though as Tomura leans down, tongue licking you through your panties. 

Your hands fly to his hair, moan erupting from your lips. You’re unsure how thin his apartment walls are, but you don't care. The feeling sends pleasure shooting up your spine and your heart picks up its pace.

Tomura laps at your clothed cunt, fabric muting the full feeling but giving you enough to cry out. You find yourself grinding closer, body begging him to keep going and he obliges, only for a moment. He gives your cunt one more kiss before pulling back and pulling your soaked panties down and off, tossing them across the living room. 

He wastes no time diving back in, tongue licking a strip from your hole to your clit and your back arches. The hold you have on Tomura’s hair is so tight, you're sure it’s painful at this point, but he only groans, wet muscle lapping your clit eagerly. Your thighs reflexively try to close, but Tomura is faster, hand stopping them and thumb rubbing soothing circles. 

“Oh, god,” you squeeze your eyes shut, the pleasure building quickly and you will yourself not to go over – not yet. That would be embarrassing. 

You feel the pressure in your abdomen tighten and it's clear you won't last much longer. Tomura took that moment to suck your sensitive nub and you spill over, mouth open in a silent moan and thighs quivering.

Tomura rides you through it, only pulling away from his ministrations once you catch your breath. “That soon, huh?” There's no bite to his words and you only give him a halfhearted glare, heavy lidded eyes still reeling from your orgasm. 

You’re distracted and don’t notice Tomura’s not finished with his antics. It wasn’t until you felt a digit pressing at your heat, slipping in slowly and making you mewl in pleasure. You were soaked, and the pressure making your head loll onto the armrest of the couch. It felt so full already. 

“Ah!” you gasped, feeling the familiar glide of Tomura’s tongue against your oversensitive clit once more. 

It was almost too much, your cries reaching new heights as he pumped his digit in and out of your sopping cunt, juices from your arousal mixing with his saliva. He was taking his time building your next orgasm, moving slow and steady, making your toes curl in pleasure. 

The push of a second finger against your hole had you tapping Tomura’s shoulder, “t-too much! Tomura!” 

Your cries fell on deaf ears as he continued, tip of his tongue flicking your clit as the second finger pushed in to join the first, waisting no time fucking you in earnest. His fingers were thick and the feeling of being so full made you dizzy, pleasure spiraling as you tried to ground yourself mentally. You grabbed Tomura’s shoulder, fisting his shirt in your hand as you lost yourself in the pleasure once more. 

Tomura’s motions ceased as his eyes met yours. You could only imagine how blissed out you looked in this moment, breath ragged and sweat clinging to your brow. Tomura wasn’t much better off — he was as desperate as you, hair splayed in wild directions after your hands ravaged through it. You open your mouth – impatient words on the tip of your tongue and Tomura curls his fingers, digits hitting that spongy spot inside that made you see stars.

He flattens his tongue, giving your clit a final lap and it sends you over – for the second time tonight. 

Your back arches and your legs shake as your orgasm washes over you. The feeling sends waves of pleasure throughout your body, eyes squeezed shut and mind buzzing. 

Tomura watches as you come apart, palming his erection in awe. You meet his eyes once you come down from your second high of the night and Tomura wastes no time in crashing his lips to yours, clumsy and wet. You could taste yourself on his lips and groan when he pulls you closer. 

There's a trail of saliva linking the two of you once he pulls away, but Tomura’s heavy gaze is only on you. He leans back in once more to give you a much softer kiss, before pulling away again and giving the same soft kiss on your cheek — heat rushing to them for reasons entirely different from what just transpired between you both. 

It was very… intimate – in a way you did not expect from someone who had just called you a slut. 

It makes you want to reach out for him when he pulls away further, eyes seemingly pondering something you’re unaware of. He looked down at you one more time, before looking to his television and his unopened takeout bag on the coffee table. 

“My show is about to start, so…” he starts, picking up the remote to change the channel of the television, screen lighting up and noise filling the room. You stare as Tomura sits back and gets comfortable, opening his takeout bag and removing the contents. 

Was he… was he kicking you out right now? Seriously? 

Your brows fly up, eyes widened in disbelief — his lack of reaction at your scoff only proves you right. He was kicking you out. Bullshit. The humiliation is evident as you scurry to find your pants, not bothering to find wherever the hell he tossed your underwear earlier, and get the hell out of there before you said something you would regret. 

The only thing on your mind was the front door as you brushed by Tomura one last time. 

“Hey!” he called, gluing you to your spot. Your heart jumped as you turned back to him vaguely hoping he would offer you to stay a little longer.

That small flame of hope died as soon as it came because Tomura was only extending your long forgotten phone to you. 

You snatch the device from his hand and make your way out the door, face burning and legs still tingling from the way he made you come undone mere moments before. 

Once you reach your bike you find yourself huffing in annoyance. What else did you expect? Him to offer you some of his takeout? That would just be silly. You’re walking your bike to the sidewalk, ready to hop on and go back to the restaurant – sure your manager is worried sick about his only driver – before your phone buzzes in your back pocket. 

Tomura S.

Your eyes widened as you read a text from the name you knew you hadn't saved in your contacts before. 

You forgot my drink.

[pretty-sparkle-bomb]

I just read your post about reader being a total badass when another girl is trying to take her man, can we get a reverse one? Where reader is being flirted with?

Seriously it was so good!

In which, the MHA boys react to the reader being flirted with.

Characters included: Dabi (Touya Todoroki), Shoto Todoroki, Katsuki Bakugo, Eijiro Kirishima, Denki Kaminari, Tomura Shigaraki, Izuku Midoriya, Hitoshi Shinso, Hanta Sero.

Dabi (Touya Todoroki)

The bar was packed, the air thick with smoke and whiskey. You were leaning against the counter in a black minidress, waiting for your drink, when some random guy slid up beside you.

"Hey, sweetheart," he smirked. "What’s a pretty thing like you doing all alone?"

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “I have a boyfriend, fuck off.”

“That’s what they all say. Why don’t you let me buy you a drink?” he continued with a sly grin, placing a hand on top of yours.

You didn’t even get a chance to respond before a strong, scarred arm looped around your waist, pulling you back against a solid chest.

Dabi.

His voice was low. "Alone?" He chuckled, resting his chin on your shoulder. "That’s cute."

The guy hesitated, realizing who you were. Everyone knew that Dabi was the most wanted S-class villain. His amber eyes flicking between you and Dabi. "I didn’t realize—"

"Yeah, you didn’t." Dabi tilted his head, blue flames sparking at his fingertips. "Start running."

The guy? Gone in seconds.

Dabi kissed your neck, chuckling. "I love scaring off idiots. You’re fun bait, doll."

Katsuki Bakugo

It was a normal day at the gym—until some dumbass decided today was the day to test Bakugo’s patience.

You were warming up, minding your business, when some cocky asshole strolled up. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall next to you, clearly checking you out.

"Wow," he whistled, looking you up and down. "Did it hurt when you fell from heaven? Because damn, you’re—"

Before he could finish, a handful of explosions went off beside him, making him stumble back with a yell.

Katsuki stood there, arms crossed, eyes blazing with fury.

"The hell you just say to my girl, dickwad?" His eyes were narrowed, boring holes into the other guy’s soul. Wow, Katsuki sure was hot when he was so protective over you.

“Woah there man—” The guy backed away slowly, turning around and speedwalking out of the area.

Katsuki grabbed your wrist, pulling you close. "Ya good, dollface? He touch you?”

You smirked. "Jealous much?"

"Shut up," he grumbled, but his grip on you didn’t loosen.

Shoto Todoroki

It was a simple coffee run, or at least it was supposed to be. Shoto was at the counter, waiting for both of your orders while you sat in one of the booths, scrolling mindlessly on your phone.

Without warning, some smooth-talking guy slid into the seat beside you. "Hey," he smiled, "Mind if I join you?"

Before you could answer, two cups of coffee were placed before you. “I mind.”

You tilted your chin up to meet Shoto’s mismatched eyes. "You’re flirting with my girlfriend." His tone was calm but you could tell that he was annoyed. The air around you had become cold, something that happened whenever someone managed to push your boyfriend’s buttons.

The guy blinked. "Uh—"

Shoto didn't even look at him. He slid into the seat next to you. Interlocking your fingers. "I don’t share," he murmured.

The guy practically tripped over himself leaving.

“Sho.” You giggled, looking at him.

Shoto sipped his coffee like nothing happened. "Yes, love?”

Hanta Sero

The two of you were at an arcade, laughing as you played games together, until some guy decided to interrupt. He was tall, decked in all black and had a flirtatious smile.

"Hey," he grinned, stepping between you and Hanta. "I’ve been watching you for a while… maybe I could get your number?”

Hanta stood infront of you, blocking you from the other guy’s sight.

"Oh, for sure," he said with a sly grin, right before launching a strand of tape at the guy. Who barely had time to react before he was yanked backward, stuck against the wall, arms pinned to his sides. “What the heck man?”

Hanta wrapped an arm around your shoulder, still grinning. "Oops. Looks like you’re busy."

You giggled. "You’re evil."

"Only when people try to steal my girl."

Eijiro Kirishima

You and Eijiro were strolling through the festival, the glow of lanterns reflecting in his bright red eyes as you both enjoyed the sights and food stalls. The night was perfect—until some overconfident idiot decided to ruin it.

"Hey there hot stuff," the guy smirked, stepping a little too close. "Why don’t you ditch the kid and have a real man show you a good time?"

Your red-head boyfriend stopped mid-bite of his takoyaki. Slowly, he turned to face the guy, a sharp grin stretching across his face.

"Hey, man," he said, cracking his knuckles as his quirk activated with a sickening crunch. His fists hardened into razor-sharp stone, glinting under the festival lights. “What are your intentions?”

The guy paled, taking a cautious step back. "Dude, chill, I was just—"

"Just…?” Eijiro tilted his head. The guy nodded furiously before bolting into the crowd. You started laughing, holding onto your stomach as you doubled over.

Kirishima sighed, turning back to you with a pout. "Babe, do I really not look scary? I thought I was at least a little intimidating."

You tried to hold back a laugh but failed. "Eiji, you’re too adorable to be scary."

His jaw dropped. "Too adorable? Babe, I literally just made a guy run for his life!"

You grinned, poking his cheek. "Exactly. Cute, but effective."

Eijiro groaned, dramatically dragging a hand down his face. "Man, this is terrible for my reputation."

But he still laced his fingers with yours, grinning as he led you toward the next food stall—because honestly? He’d rather be your cute boyfriend than be scary any day.

Tomura Shigaraki

The Villain’s Den was loud, pulsing with heavy bass and neon lights. The club was a known hotspot for the worst of the worst—rogue assassins, yakuza, underground black-market dealers. It was the kind of place where rules didn’t exist, where people only stepped on each other’s toes if they wanted a death wish.

You were sitting at the bar, sipping on something strong and expensive, watching the dance floor where bodies grinded together, the flashing red and blue lights reflecting in their hungry eyes.

Shigaraki was next to you, one arm slung lazily over the back of your stool, his other hand wrapped around a glass of whiskey. He wasn’t much for crowds, but he tolerated them when it meant keeping an eye on you.

It was almost peaceful.

A cocky-looking bastard slid into the stool beside you, his breath reeking of liquor and weed. He was built like someone who thought he was untouchable—broad shoulders, expensive rings on his fingers, tattoos from head to toe.

He looked at you like you were something to win.

"Didn’t expect to see someone as fine as you in a place like this," he drawled, tilting his head. "What do you say I buy you a drink, huh? Lose the zombie-lookin’ guy and come have a good time."

Before you could rip him apart yourself, a scarred hand landed on your thigh, fingers slipping just under the material of your crimson minidress.  Tomura didn’t look up. Didn’t need to.

"Touch her again," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the music, but somehow more chilling than the bass drop. "And I’ll make sure they’re scraping your remains off the floor by morning."

The guy hesitated. He turned to look at Shigaraki properly, taking in the red-rimmed eyes, the baby blue, almost white hair, the twisted smile and the slow, casual way he tapped his thumb against his glass.

Realization hit.

The color drained from the guy’s face. He swallowed hard. "Shit, man—I didn’t know it was—"

"You do now." Shigaraki’s fingers flexed, his grip tightening just enough to send a very clear message. The guy stood up immediately.

He pushed off the stool so fast it nearly tipped over, bolting into the sea of criminals like he could outrun death itself.

You sighed, sipping your drink. "Tomu.” You whined. “You’re no fun. I was kinda hoping you’d let me handle that one."

He finally turned his attention to you. His fingers brushed higher up your thigh, his other hand setting his empty glass down with a soft thunk.

"You okay?"

You smirked. "That was kinda hot."

A deep, amused chuckle rumbled in his chest. "Damn right it was."

Izuku Midoriya

The All Might-themed merch store was bright, filled with limited-edition action figures, posters, and collectibles. You and Izuku were wandering through the aisles, fingers intertwined as he excitedly rambled about the latest All Might figurine that had just been released. His eyes were practically glowing as he pointed at the details, completely in his element.

You loved seeing him like this.

A random stranger, dressed in a cocky grin and an oversized jacket, strolled right up to you. "What’s cookin, good lookin’?," he purred, completely ignoring Izuku standing right beside you.

You blinked. Seriously?

Izuku, mid-sentence, froze. The guy leaned against the shelf, flashing you what he probably thought was a charming smile. "How about you ditch the nerd and come get a coffee with me?"

Izuku’s eyes darkened. His usual soft expression shifted into something serious.  "Excuse me," he said, shoulders squaring as he stepped in front of you. His voice was calm—too calm. "She’s with me."

The guy laughed, clearly underestimating him. "Relax, dude. I’m just saying she could do better than some fanboy who—"

Izuku moved so fast the guy didn’t see it coming.

The entire shelf behind him rattled, a gust of air bursting through the store as Izuku’s foot lightly tapped against the floor. He hadn’t even used his full strength—just enough to shake the ground beneath them.

The guy stumbled, eyes wide. "Wh-what the hell?"

Izuku didn’t even blink. Didn’t move. Just looked him dead in the eye. "You were saying?" The guy bolted.

Izuku let out a small breath, turning back to you. The moment his eyes met yours, his serious expression melted, a sheepish smile replacing it. "Sorry about that," he mumbled, scratching the back of his head.

You smirked. "Wow, Izu. That was kinda hot."

Izuku turned bright red. "D-Don’t say stuff like that!"

You just laughed, lacing your fingers with his again. "C’mon, fanboy. Show me more of these All Might figures."

Izuku, still blushing, happily obliged.

Denki Kaminari

The arcade was loud, packed with people, flashing lights, and the sounds of game machines beeping wildly. You and Denki were on a date night, sharing a bucket of popcorn while he tried (and failed) to beat you at air hockey.

"I swear you’re cheating," he pouted as you scored another point. You smirked, twirling the paddle in your hand. "I don’t need to cheat to beat you, baby."

Denki groaned. "Ouch, but again… why’s that kinda hot?."

Before you could serve again, a random dude appeared at your side, looking far too smug for someone who hadn’t been invited.

"Hey," he said, completely ignoring Denki. "I saw you playing and had to come over. You’re pretty good. Bet you’d have more fun playing against me... or maybe, with me?"

Denki froze. Then, ever so slowly, he turned his head toward the guy, blinking like he’d just heard the dumbest thing in existence.

You sighed, already unamused. "No thanks. I’m here with my boyfriend."

The guy didn’t even react. "What, the walking pikachu? He doesn’t seem like much competition."

Oh. Oh, that was a mistake.

Denki let out a low whistle, tossing his paddle onto the table. "Bro. That’s crazy," he said, shaking his head. "I mean, I could fry your nervous system in a second, but hey, points for confidence."

The guy visibly tensed but tried to play it off cool. “You’re bluffing.”

Denki grinned, leaning in slightly. His fingers sparked. "Am I?”

A tiny bolt of electricity shot from his fingertips, buzzing through the air right past the guy’s ear. Not enough to hurt—just enough to remind him what quirks existed.

The guy bolted.

Denki laughed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "Man, you really attract the idiots, huh?"

You rolled your eyes. "You jealous?"

Denki pouted. "Maybe."

You kissed his cheek. "Don’t be. You’re the only idiot I like."

He beamed. "Damn right I am."

Hitoshi Shinso

It was late at night, and you and Hitoshi were sitting outside a small ramen shop, enjoying the quiet hum of the city. The neon lights flickered, casting soft purple and blue hues against his face as he lazily stirred his noodles.

You loved moments like these—just the two of you, no distractions, no expectations.

Until some jackass decided to ruin it.

A man—cocky, unbothered, and absolutely unaware of what he was walking into—slid into the empty seat beside you.

"Hey," he said, flashing you a grin. "Are your parents beavers? Cause damn!"

You stared at him. Hitoshi did not react.

"You know," the guy continued, completely oblivious to the danger he was in, "a pretty thing like you shouldn’t waste time with a guy who looks like he hasn’t slept in ten years."

Hitoshi, mid-bite, finally blinked. He set his chopsticks down slowly, exhaling through his nose before resting his chin on his palm.

"Oh?" His voice was smooth. "That’s funny."

The guy smirked. "What is?"

Hitoshi just tilted his head, purple eyes glowing slightly. "That you think you have a chance."

And then, before the guy could react, Hitoshi activated his quirk.

"Be a good little idiot," he commanded, his voice low, silky, lethal. "And leave."

The guy’s face went blank. He stood up immediately, turning on his heel and walking straight into the street, disappearing into the night like a puppet on strings.

You snorted. "That was overkill."

Hitoshi hummed, taking another bite of his ramen. "I could’ve made him trip into a dumpster."

You smirked. "Now that would’ve been hot."

Hitoshi chuckled, shaking his head. "You’re ridiculous."

"But you love me."

He sighed dramatically, giving you a lazy grin. "Yeah, yeah. Lucky me."