Shigaraki.

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

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

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

Word Count: 5100ish

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

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

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

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

If only.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But, oh. 

Oh.

You hear it again.

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

It’s a step.

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

Someone is in the hall. 

Someone is coming for you.

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

One step, two step. 

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

Another step, and another. 

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

Step, step. Step. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He takes a step, then pauses.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t want your money.”

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

“Then…what do you want?”

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

Fucking hell. 

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

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

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

He’s holding a pair of your underwear.

He’s broken into your home. 

He’s your stalker.

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

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

“Don’t lie.” 

Your mouth stops mid-ramble. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

And your phone crumbles to dust.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He makes a low sound, like a hum. 

“Please… don’t hurt me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Home?” 

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

“Don’t be stupid.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Open up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For what?

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

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

But he doesn’t bring his hand down. 

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

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

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

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

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

They have to.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All you’re left with is aftershocks and shame.

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

He’s hard.

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

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

It seems like he understands what you’re thinking. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tomura shigaraki x Gf reader

🌟smut

"A date? Why the hell do we have to go on a date...?" He scratched his neck, you couldn't tell what kind of expression he was looking at you with by the hand that covered his face. You and Tomura had a... complicated relationship. You declared your feelings to him shortly after joining the league and he accepted you. But he was always pretty uninterested in you in certain moments.

"Because we're a couple? Don't you want to spend time together tomara?" You question with a saddening tone. You love tomura but you can tell he didn't enjoy the same things you did at all.

"We spend plenty of damn time together." He said bluntly, scoffing and finally removing his hand from his face so he can look at you. He sat down in a couch and crossed his arms. "What's wrong with just sitting and talking? Why do we have to eat out somewhere?"

"You don't get tired of the same thing over and over again?" You tell him as you followed behind him sitting next to him not too close enough to give him his space.

He shrugged, looking down at his thighs for a moment before shifting his gaze back to you. His eyes trailed over your body and a smirk pulled at the corners of his lips.

"I guess not. You certainly don't get tired of being a pain in my ass though, heh."

You groan in frustration he didn't get you and you didn't get him but that didn't mean you gave up easily,

"Let's go out tomura..." you plea at him

He groaned back in annoyance and ran a hand through his messy hair.

"Fine, but only if you shut up. It's always "please this" and "please that" and "let's go here" with you. If you aren't saying some bullshit like that, you're complaining about some other stupid thing!"

His words hurt you it's not like he was wrong but you didn't do it to annoy him you just wanted him to feel the same joy you felt when you did whatever he wanted to do,

"Never mind we can just stay here..." you tell him trying to hide your pain, Of course, he noticed your expression. His eyes watched you closely, picking up on the slightest shift in your mood. He knew what he said hurt you. Hell, he was trying to. But seeing the way your face dropped was something he wasn't expecting. Tomura sighed and leaned back in the couch, looking away from you and rubbing his eyes.

"No... whatever. Fine. We can go out, just stop looking like that." He was trying his best not to sound like he cared.

"A-are you sure?.. I don't want you to be mad at me or anything..." you mumble underneath your breath with slight excitement in your voice, he was really considering going out with you...

A small scoff escaped his lips as he looked back at you, the same smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth again.

"Yeah, whatever, I'm not mad, idiot. I just don't get why you want to go somewhere so bad. Can't we just sit and watch a movie or something?"

"I don't know I just want to make ..." you mumble softly before you could finish your sentence afraid he might say your reasonings are stupid. you fiddle with your fingers trying to not look embarrassed, He raised a brow, looking at you in a confused yet curious manner. He could tell you were holding something back, and he was a bit frustrated that you weren't finishing your sentence. He leaned forward a bit, resting his elbows on his thighs as he kept his eyes on you.

"You just want to make what? Spit it out, 'll probably hate it whatever you say anyways."

"M-" your words budging in your throat you couldn't spit it out, but you knew you had to or he'd get irritated.

"M-make memories with you..." you let out,

Well that... was not at all what he was expecting. He expected your answer to be something stupid and annoying, but instead it was... somewhat endearing. For a moment he sat there in silence, looking at you with a blank expression as he processed your answer.

"Memories? You only want to go out so you can make memories with me? That's... stupid."

You knew he's say that and it didn't bother you since you had predicted it, sometimes you wish he's see your point of view on relationships this might be his first but it didn't mean he couldn't try.

"Y-yeah you're right..." you sigh

He raised a brow when you agreed with him. He expected you to argue with him or something, not just give in. It made him want to... not insult you? What the hell was wrong with him? He stared at you for a minute, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Huh? So you agree that it's stupid? Why'd you even say it then? You want to make memories because it's something happy couples do, right?"

You turn in embarrassment you knew he didn't do what other couples did especially "happy" couples.

"I'm not sure..." you respond in a low voice

He rolled his eyes at your mumbled response, a smirk pulling at his lips yet again. He loved getting under your skin. He always found it slightly amusing how you got so easily flustered

"What, can't even look at me when you're answering? Tch, you're so weak, it's pathetic."

He said as he started shifting himself on the couch, slowly moving closer to you.

You turn up to look at him, as if you were a lost puppy trying to find your owner you didn't know what to tell him. Dealing with tomura meant dealing with names but you tried to not let them get to you. He chuckled softly when he saw the expression on your face. He shifted closer to you until he was basically pressed against you, his face now only a few inches from yours. A smirk tugged at his lips as he ran his finger under your chin, forcing you to look at him directly.

"Aww, I struck a nerve, huh? You get all shy when l insult you because you know they're all true, right? You're weak and pathetic, but you're always following me around like a dog."

You perk your lips feeling his hot breath below them,He slowly dragged his finger from your chin up to your bottom lip, gently running it across your soft skin. He couldn't help but notice the look you gave him he leaned in even closer, his face just barely hovering over yours.

"Always looking at me with those big round eyes and following me around, trying to get my attention. Like a dog, waiting for its owner to say something to it...”

He chuckled as he heard you let out a soft gasp, watching as your face turned red. It was so fun messing with you, seeing how easily flustered you got over the simplest things. He leaned in a bit closer, his mouth now right next to your ear.

"And now look at you, you're a mess just because I got a few inches closer to you.You're too easy, you know that? I bet I could do anything I wanted to you right now and you'd let me."

He was right you would but you wouldn't admit it not right now atleast not while he was turning you on. It's silly getting turned on just by words.

"I-I'm not..." you let out

He smirked again as soon as you spoke. He knew you were trying to hide your true feelings, trying to act like you weren't desperate for his attention. He leaned back a little so he could look at your face again and see your expression as he spoke.

"Not what? A mess? Easy? You're both, doll. I can see it in the way you're looking at me right now. Your face is so red, it's cute."

You try to control yourself as he moves closer to you causing you to yelp as he caresses you cheek, He smirked at the small yelp you let out, finding it adorable. He loved how sensitive you were, how easy it was to get a reaction out of you. He moved the hand that was on your cheek so it was tangled into your hair, his nails gently scratching your scalp as he spoke.

"I'm barely even touching you and you're trembling. I bet I could just pin you down right here right now and you wouldn't fight back. You're so obedient, just like a good little pet~"

"T-tomura..." you let out a gasp as he pins you down looking at you beneath him feeling his pent up member hard onto your core, He chuckled as he heard the way you whined his name out to him, the way your voice got all needy because of him. Your voice was music to his ears.

"What's wrong, doll? Got no other words to say?"

He said as he leaned down to your ear again, gently biting your earlobe before moving his lips down to your neck.

You repeat his name as he places kisses on your sensitive skin causing you to treble.

You wanted him and he wanted you it was obvious they way his pants tightened around his shaft. The way his hips moved slowly around your core repeatedly...

He groaned against your skin as he felt your body squirmed underneath him. He continued leaving a trail of kisses on your neck, moving his lips down to the crook of it and nibbling on the skin. He let out another groan when he felt you say his name again, and his hips subconsciously started moving more against you.

"You're so easy, it's pathetic."

He said huskily as he let out another groan.

"I-I'm n-not!" You let out as his kisses weakened you. He chuckled, finding your stubbornness both cute and ridiculous. He started leaving smaller kisses along your jawline, getting closer to your mouth.

"Oh yes, you are. You get all whiny and flustered whenever I touch you. You get all shy and quiet when I get close to you. You're a mess right now, and I all I did was pin you down."

He said against your skin before biting gently on your jaw. "I'm not the o-only one !" You exclaim as you look at his thick hard member

He chuckled again when you spoke, before slowly moving up a bit to look down at you.

He smirked at the way you spoke so boldly all of a sudden, his eyes locking onto yours as he continued rubbing himself against you.

"Oh, really? You think you're not the only one acting like this? Then what about me, hm? What makes you think I'm flustered, doll?"

"Your hips... the way you're moving them on me" you let out a soft moan as he continues his motions. He froze as you pointed out the way his hips were moving against you, realizing that you were right and he was losing his cool. He let out a huffed breath, trying to compose himself. He didn't want to show any kind of weakness in front of you. Instead, he leaned down to give you one quick kiss on the lips, like some kind of distraction, before speaking.

"That's... it's just because you're making me like this, doll. You're so pathetic that I can't help but get a little riled up."… "Im going to take you up like the slut you are and screw you untill you come undone" he says with his low raspy voice it turned you on so much. His words were blunt and vulgar, but they had a different effect on you than he would ve expected. They made you shiver, made your face turn redder than it was before, and caused a jolt of something in your lower stomach you hadn't felt before.

He saw the way you reacted to his words and the look on your face, a smirk crept onto his face as his eyes darkened. tomuras words fall from his lips like honey, you couldn’t help but feel something turn on inside you felt empty as if you needed him, needed him badly.

“tomura please.. p-please fuck me..” you cry in despair begging for him asking him to do what you’ve been expecting. He wouldn’t let you have what you wanted easily, you would have to work for it and hard. His lips formed a smirk as he replied “Fine I’ll fuck you.. I’ll fuck you so hard you’ll beg me for more..”

You were relived, you were eager but before you could plea he spoke again.

“But you’ll have to work for it princess.. you have to prove to me how badly you want it ..“ he smirks as he lets you go and sits up undressing his lower half and sitting back down positioning himself with wide legs.

“Suck it.” He commanded.

You did as you were told, But he wanted more. You slowly kiss the tip of his shaft tasting the pre cum leaking from his cock what made it even better were the grunts he let out when you touched his dick.

“f-fuck..” he lets out, he doesn’t know why you have him like this you haven’t even put it inside your mouth and he wants to just forget about your punishment and fuck you but he knows you won’t learn.

You start kissing his tip as you feel the pre cum on your lips the sweet but slightly sour flavor falls on your tongue like heaven.

“My sweet fucking g-girl~” he moans out “You love my cock don’t you?” He chuckles as you bob your head feeling his hard cock inside your mouth as it twitches, he grabs your hair gently but roughly as he pushes your head down even further hitting the back of your throat.

“Mhm!!!” You squeal as you felt his cock deeper inside your mouth tears start to form, your gag reflexes weren’t the best but it was enough to handle his size,

“My pretty girl s-so pretty..” you give a final bob as he finishes inside your mouth filling it with his seed, you felt yourself get wetter and wetter panties soaked.

He commands you to swallow every last drop before he helps you up and shoves you to the couch, his cock rubbing in your throbbing pussy.

“beg for it.” He says in a low raspy voice

Without a doubt you do as he says,

“P-please b-baby please!” “Just fuck m-me!” You beg hoping he’d hurry, hearing you beg turned him on and he sure was gonna fuck the voice out of you. He positions himself in front of your wet entrence causing you to moan causing music to his ears and he slowly enters himself as a way to make you suffer he was going to take his time with you pressuring you and make you wait for what you wanted.

“T-omura!” You whine as you more your hips like a horny dog trying to make him move faster

“Keep trying and I won’t put it in you brat..” shigaraki a husky voice tells you in a serious voice he meant what he said.

You whimper you wanted him inside and when he was it drove you mad he thrusted in and out of your core causing you to moan like a mad woman it felt so good the way his cock cam in and out in and out in repeat pushing against your gummy walls and you tighten with each thrust,

“fuckfuck fuckkk..” you moaned out in repeat your walls were clenching on him hard and he enjoyed ever last one he lived the way your eyes fooled back with tears on them the way your young made its way out panting rapidly as he pushed your lug towards your chest making even more access to your core.

“My pretty little c-cunt…”. He let out with grunts

“Fucking mine..” he smiled at your figure, you felt yourself cumming soon pleading for his seen deep inside you,

“p-please p-please cum inside me!!!” You whined as his final thrusted in you spreading his seed all over your walls

“FUCK!!” He yelled as he panted slowly trying to gain his breath he feel beside you as his eyes were searching for something to cover you with.

He soon found a blanket and got up to get it sitting down as he commanded you to lay on his side while covering both of you as you fell asleep in his chest.

As you felt asleep he looked at your weak figure the way it was fragile… he loved the way you look like a lost puppy in need of a home loved the way you begged and plead underneath him….

Fuck.

He was hard again.

(if you liked my work feel free to check out the rest on my page and follow <3!! Or click the #hotcheetos22 )

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, fem!reader, toxic relationship, tomura’s just playing with your pussy tbh words: 441

ever since you started fucking, tomura has developed an irritating little habit. 

irritating, because it is unintentionally teasing. irritating, because he refuses to fuck you without performing this little ritual first. 

kneeling between your spread thighs, his palm curls around the base of his cock, holding it steady as he caresses your slit with the head—back and forth, back and forth, easily gliding over your swollen clit, now slicked with your arousal and his pre-cum. he almost burrows the head into your folds, his eyes shimmering with awe, breath exhaled through parted lips in little pants, mouth licked raw and glazed with saliva, watching as your lips cling to him, try to pull him closer, to suck him in, delicate skin bulging while he slides his cock along it again. 

his skin is flushed and hard and glittering so prettily in the dim light, coated with you, coated with you both, the tip just barely dipping into your hole on his stroke up, snagging on it slightly. 

he’s fascinated by your body, by what he can do to your body, by the way your little cunt clenches in response when he rubs the head in slow, hard circles, then in fast, light motions, another little dribble of slick oozing out of it—another rush of heat to your core, another flame left to smoulder beneath his titillation. 

it enchants him, the way his head skipping over your engorged clit sends bolts rippling through your flesh, chased by a wave of chills. 

it enraptures him, the way your pelvis rolls up as his tip catches on your hole again, trying to fuck him into you, your sweet whine of frustration met with a self-satisfied chuckle. 

“don’t be greedy,” he tells you, even as he defies his own order, selfishly stretching time as he plays with you, grinding the slit of his head into your clit. “you’ll get my cock when i’m ready to give it to you.” 

there’s an implicit threat sewn into his singsong tone; behave, or you won’t get anything at all. 

and so you still, like the good little girl you are, and let him have his fun, marvelling at your cunt as if it’s the first time all over again, sending tiny flares of pleasure searing through your veins, sparking hot cinders in the pit of your stomach to a dull glow, desperate to catch flame. 

but he’ll never get sick of this, he swears it, he’s breathing as he finally pushes in, ill-prepped cunt straining around his girth, his gaze glued to your conjoined bodies. your body was fucking made for him, he’s sure of it. 

I don't have addh but that's litteraly me xD

as a fellow gal with ADHD, please consider: shiggy/hyper & easily distracted gf

Oh man, I think it would drive him crazy. Shigaraki is so hyper focused and determined, and he’s obviously somewhat organized and skilled at bringing things together.

Those of us with ADHD (especially untreated) tend to be a bit scatterbrained and easily distracted. Could you imagine sitting through a long, grueling meeting with the league, and you just find yourself staring at the wall, daydreaming? You’re trying to listen, you really are, but every once in a while, he says something that sends your mind on a tangent and it becomes almost impossible to listen?

Anytime you have to read over recon or reports, you have to do it about 8 times because even though your eyes are scanning over the words, your head is totally somewhere else. It’s just not digesting the words. Sometimes you have to quiz yourself (or have him do it for you) to make sure you absorbed the information.

And sleeping next to him? Oh man.

“Hey!”

“What?”

“You’re twitching your leg again.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it.”

“Well stop! You’re shaking the whole bed!”

“I’m trying! I start doing it subconsciously.”

“Well knock it off. I’m trying to focus.”

“Okay.”

...........

...........

“You’re doing it again!”

He’d have to check in on you and make sure you’re not getting sidetracked while you work. He even has to pay extra attention to where you put things because you have a tendency to lose track of stuff.

“Did you see where I put my phone?”

“I saw you with it two minutes ago.”

“I know. I can’t remember where I put it.”

“Did you check your pocket?”

“Yes, Tomura, I’m not stupid.”

“What about the counter?”

“Already looked.”

“And what about the bathroom where you went right before you lost it?”

“....huh.”

“Idiot.”

Even when he’s looking right at you, he’s not entirely sure you’re listening. Sometimes he asks you to repeat what it is he just said just so he can be sure. Your impulsive nature doesn’t necessarily help matters. He thinks if you spent half as much time working as you did daydreaming, you might have destroyed society on your own by now.

“What the hell are you looking at?”

“Huh?”

“You’ve been staring at the counter for 10 minutes. You’re barely blinking.”

“Oh. I was just wondering what it would be like to have a quirk like Hawks. You know, like flying and stuff? Do you think he ever gets bugs in his teeth? And what about going down, do you think his stomach does the flippy thing or do you get used to it? Also, do you think he needs to like, brush his wings? You know when you get a few hairs parted on the wrong side and it feels weird? You think you get that with feathers? And since he’s birdlike, you think he lays eggs or-“

“You know what? I’m sorry I asked.”

Yeah, it would drive Shigaraki crazy sometimes. But even though he’ll never tell you this, he thinks it’s cute, and he doesn’t mind it nearly as much as he pretends he does. Plus, he’s more than happy to help keep you organized and remember things you might have forgotten. It’s a minuscule price to pay to be with you, and something he’d probably do anyway.

Yea 💀😂 but you get the idea

What if we could lay an egg with narinder ?

Please if any developper see this, let us repopulate the lambs ! (And f*ck with narinder 👉👈)

Uninvited

Shigaraki x F!Reader smut

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

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Kohei Horikoshi

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

Word count: 5.0k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“H-hello..?” You stutter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I definitely will. Have a good night!” 

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

Then there’s a knock on the door. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“As rude as breaking into an apartment?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

“R-really..?” 

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

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

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

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

“..Right..”

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“..Mmm,” you mumble. 

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

“I’m fucking furious with you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It can–?”

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

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

“Oh..” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Good UnU shiggy's my boy till the end

Hello, can I request hcs nsfw for Shigaraki, Dabi and Hawks with a camgirl?

@Namelive💋

Shigaraki Tomura, Dabi, Takami Keigo (Hawks) x Camgirl! reader 

Warnings: Voyeurism, Sexy time activities, exhibitionism, I’ve been meaning to post this for the longest. :D And ya know me (Well those of you who do XD) you’re obviously gonna get a mini backstory for each hc :P (Mind you I know about the pfl and all that but I like to go with the flow of the anime as some people don’t read the manga. So if you’re a manga reader and are like wtf they ain’t in the warehouse no more shhhhhh I know) Don’t you just love how my headcanon’s turn into stories…. I promise I’m working on it :’)

Afficher davantage

OK I SAW @naffeclipse’s CRYPTED HUNTER AU CONCEPT AND I JUST LOVED THE SCENE THEY DESCRIBED SO MUCH I JUST HAD TO DRAW IT-

HERE’S THE LINK TO THE POST TALKING ABOUT THE CONCEPT

ALSO I AM SCREAMING CAUSE NAFF CONFIRMED THAT THEY’RE GONNA BE WRITING A FIC FOR IT IN OCTOBER I AM GOING FERAL

TW: Horror (<- putting this here just in case)

bachata baby | (s)

apart of the meet cute: gone wrong series, click here for more!

pairing: shigaraki tomura x reader

words: 8.7k

prompt: "getting paired up at a dance class"

warnings: enemies to lovers, cunnilingus, dom!shigaraki, sensual dancing, tit play, fingering, hand kink, doggystyle, protected sex, alcohol, frat party, complicated relationship

  You’d absolutely lost the class registration lottery. After days, even weeks of agonizing over what classes filled which requirements and yet still gave you enough wiggle room to have your off days, you were exhausted. Everything was planned to a tee, and your dismayed face was evident as you told your roommate the dreadful news.

“I have to take a dance class! A partner dancing class! I might as well drop out,” you cry forlornly, looking at Nejire’s baby blue rug in frustration.

“It can’t be that bad! I mean, at least the professor’s good, right? Nemuri Kayama, I think. She’s one of the best; you’re in good hands,” your friend pets your head softly before leaping onto her plush bed, “maybe you’ll even dance with someone cute! You should keep your head high.”

“...Well, I guess. If I’m with a creep, I’m gonna be so annoyed! How are you so positive?”

Nejire seems to think over her answer before giving you a teasing grin, “because I got the schedule I wanted.”

“Nejire!”

She’d reassured you she was just joking, but it was true. If you were in her position, you’re sure you’d be glad to have everything work out how you want it to. Sucking it up, you were determined not to let a stupid class ruin your well-earned GPA. You don your best comfy clothes and arrive ten minutes early at the studio. 

A couple of people are hanging out in the studio, and there’s a pleasant buzz of chatter while you sit. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. People continued trickling in, and before you could realize it, your professor clapped her hands.

“Good morning, everyone!”

Your face burns a bit hot, was she supposed to wear such tight (and revealing!) clothing? She quickly introduces herself even with all the muttering, “I hope today goes as well for you as it does for me, and I want you to all know that this class will excite you, will make you feel, and most importantly is a lot of fun!”

Everyone around you seems to be either drinking in your professor’s appearance or wondering if they should drop the class; you’re thinking the latter, too, until she drops a bomb on the students.

“You’re all too uptight! You know what? Partner up!”

It feels like you’re about to faint. Looking left, people are making eyes and nodding at each other. Looking right, it’s the same thing, and your heart stops at the realization that you don’t have a partner. There’s so much chatter and commotion as people enter the room to find a clear spot for this cruel icebreaker. 

“Does anyone not have a partner?”

You almost don’t raise your hand, but you have to. Red-hot shame is coursing through your veins. Could this get any worse?

Thankfully, a lanky and pale arm shoots into the sky alongside yours. Before you know it, Nemuri pushes you two toward each other and moves on to the assignment.

“First, say hello. These will be your partners for the rest of the semester, so make sure you like them! I know some of you are gonna date outside of class, and don’t get handsy over there!”

He’s very tall. You have to actually look up at his grumpy face to see him. His hair falls flat, looks damaged, and your cheek twitches. He’s not ugly! If he cared for his hair and maybe got more sleep… dare you say it, he could be cute.

Shigaraki towers over you easily, eyes raking your form (noting that he can see your perky tits in your bra from this advantage.) You look alright, but he’s getting the feeling that you think he’s weird, “you can stop looking at me like an animal.”

“I wasn’t! I really wasn’t,” you offer your hand and introduce yourself, “I really like your skull necklace!”

It feels like a ruse, and Shigaraki reluctantly takes your hand with a bored face, “I’m Shigaraki. Thanks.”

While others seemed to be faring better with their partners, it feels off-putting that he won’t even try to converse with you. If he’s going to have his hands on you, how could he act so cold!?

“Well, jeez. Don’t try to say it all at once,” you mumble sourly, to which your partner scoffs.

“It’s just a class. It’s not even important.”

“It’s important to me,” and you don’t like this guy.

“Then maybe you should find a different partner.”

You look like a kicked puppy when he says that, but he doesn’t take it back and mentally stews in his harshness. Maybe he should make a better effort… you were cute, he supposed. You had great tits, and you complimented his necklace.

Turning back to Nemuri, you can’t think of anything to say to that. Even though you don’t know him, it still stings a bit and your confidence leaks. Were you really that down on your luck?

Nemuri begins, telling each duo to get in a typical slow-dance pose for fun and to “get to know each other more.” It’s starting to get a little creepy, but you wind your arms around Shigaraki’s shoulders anyways. He rests his hands casually on your waist but doesn’t hold you like others. 

“Aren’t you supposed to hold my waist?”

He snickers, “do you want me to?”

Trying to talk to this man is pointless, but you almost smile at his response anyway.

“Just don’t be weird!”

“No promises,” and he’s glad to see you smile at his pervertedness.

Shigaraki decides to be nicer right then and there, in his own way.

Nemuri instructs you to casually slow dance and continue conversing; she even adds music to jazz up the class, which surprisingly works. Your nerves are melting away like butter, and Shigaraki seems to have mildly warmed up to you.

“So… Do you like to dance?”

“Fuck no.”

His bluntness makes you giggle, “yeah, me either. Except at, like, parties. But I wouldn’t really call it dancing!”

“You go to parties?”

“Sometimes! I have a lot of friends who go, so it’s like an outing every time! Do you go to parties?”

It feels kind of dumb to ask that question. No offense to him, but you’re already suspecting his answer before he gives it. He twirls you, and you feel a rush of butterflies.

“Not really. People don’t want a zombie dude at their parties,” his voice is gravelly but smooth, “but I’ve been to a few.”

“They’re fun!”

Before you can continue finding common ground, Nemuri is hollering about reading the syllabus and upcoming material you’ll cover. Shigaraki quickly gets his hands off you, and your heart aches.

“Hey, do you want to exchange social media?”

He’s already got his bag halfway on your shoulder, giving you an unimpressed look.

“I don’t use social media,” and he shuffles even closer to the parade of students exiting the lecture hall.

“Oh. Well, your number?”

You feel yourself grow hot when all he does is smirk and input your digits into his phone.

“There, do you need anything else?”

What happened to the Shigaraki from a few minutes ago? He seems to be in a rush, but you can’t help but feel hurt by his mood swings. Was he always going to be this irritable? Was he going to be someone you could count on in this class?

“...I guess not. Bye.”

He’s out of the room before you realize it, gingerly grabbing your stuff and worrying your lip. This class would be a piece of work, and you couldn’t find your footing so far. Maybe you should just drop it? But you really need that humanities credit and…

“It’s Nejire! Pick up the phone!” 

Nejire’s self-imposed ringtone is heard through your AirPods. The stress is already leaking out of your body just hearing her voice. If you had a girlfriend, she’d be it. You answer cheerily, “hey!”

“Hey! Are you coming back from class right now?”

“Yeah, I just got out. You have to hear about this; my partner sucks!”

Well… you’re embellishing. He doesn’t suck, but he’s not great.

“Aw man, really? I can’t believe it! I thought for sure it was gonna go okay….”

“It’s whatever! I’m over it,” you weren’t. “Why’d you call?”

“Oh! If you’re up for it, Phi Psi is having a party tonight! Do you wanna go?”

Hmm, ironic since you were just talking about parties. Maybe it’d be nice, and perhaps it’d be good to let loose for a couple of hours. The memory of Shigaraki telling you that he goes to some parties replays in your mind, but you try to ignore it.

“Sure! We can go. What’s the theme?”

Pajamas, she’d said. You know that your silk sleep set is more lingerie than anything else, but your nerves are buzzing with pre-gamed shots of vodka and the promise of attractive people buttering you up. Looking around, it’s a typical college party, and you’re already feeling warm from how guys eye you like you’re the hottest thing there.

Shigaraki thinks so and turns the corner, missing your flushed wandering eyes.

“We needa dance!”

Nejire babbles excitedly, Mirio accompanying her while she clutches your bicep.

“Mhm, mhm! Let me get another drink first!”

Mirio keeps Nejire’s legs from buckling and smiles, “we’ll be right here!”

You weave in and out of people, vision getting hazier and every touch feeling electric. A man starts pouring your drink, giving you a dazzling smile. He opens his mouth to talk, but you’re suddenly caged against the fence and face to face with Shigaraki’s chest.

“Wha?”

“Hey.”

He watches you search his eyes for a minute, teetering slightly as you sip the mix of alcohol and punch. Then, there’s remembrance, and you’re leaping joyfully into his chest. It feels… nice, and he gingerly pats your back before steadying you on the balls of your feet.

“Hey! I didn’t know you were going to be here. My friends are over there,” you point past his shoulder, and he sees a guy chasing a girl around, “hiii, Nejire!”

You’re pretty cute when you’re drunk, elongating words and joy coming out of you like a waterfall. A dainty hand grabs a bony one, and you’re about to drag Shigaraki toward your friends to “meet them!”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” harsher than he meant to, he rips his hand away, “how drunk are you?”

You give an offended huff, “I’m not drunk! I only had a c-oop! A couple of shots! And this drink! It’s not even a lot….”

Shigaraki feels tempted to be childish and poke fun at you. Boop your nose and pull your hair, but you’re suddenly lost in thought and fascinated with your slippers.

“You look drunk.”

“Well, ’m not. I don’t even know why I’m talking to you right now,” and you’re suddenly invigorated and wanting to seek out your friends, but the first step sends you wobbling right into Shigaraki.

The boy yelps, hands gripping your shoulders and steadying you, “watch it!”

“Let go of me!”

Some onlookers look on, peering eyes, and boys puffing their chests out in case they need to step in. Shigaraki’s mind goes blank, and all he can think of is that you’re so fucking annoying, and why does he still want to help you?

Why did he think of you while fucking his fist in bed last night? He shushes you and crosses his arms.

“Do you want to walk home by yourself?”

You look like a child, happily saying” yes” and nodding proudly. Unfortunately, Shigaraki’s plan failed; you were too happy to wander off alone. He’s reminded of a time when people used to call him creepy when he was smaller and more bug-eyed.

“Oh, okay. Sure, get murdered. See if I care.”

This makes you react like you’re actually thinking about the consequences now. Mulling it over, you chew the inside of your lip and let your head roll back against the fence.

“...Well, I don’t wanna be murdered….”

“Then let me take you home.”

“Since when are you nice?!”

It may sting a bit, but he shows no emotion. He takes a calm breath and blows the air out through his nostrils. There are no words at first, and you’re looking at him with a glint in your eye, and he wonders what you look like when you laugh. When you cry or when you get really excited.

“You don’t even care about me.”

“... You’re my dance partner.”

He’s sure his heart overrode his brain. There’s no way he could say something so cheesy. It makes your heart pound; what did he mean by that? Your drunk brain couldn’t decipher how he presented his feelings, but then he was offering you a hand like a prince.

You never thought you’d call Shigaraki prince-like, and you’re worried that this might spiral out of control soon. Letting him lead you away, you figure that that’s definitely what will happen.

“Who’s room is…?”

Shigaraki has no idea and frankly can’t be bothered to care that he’s stumbling into a random frat guy’s room, “don’t know. Don’t really care?”

He tries to take your shoes off at least, but you’re unceremoniously dropping yourself onto the bed like a fish out of water. Shigaraki feels his cheek twitch in annoyance, and then you’re turning your head with a jutted lip.

“Are you gonna lie?”

“Am I going to what?”

He assures himself you’re too drunk to understand what you’re saying. There’s no reason for you to ask that other than the need to not be alone. You’d never ask that because you genuinely wanted, no, trusted Shigaraki to stay with you. He’d never believe it, but his feet carried him to the edge of the bed, and then he sank into the soft mattress.

It’s quiet, maybe too quiet. The music’s bass thrums through the floors, but all Shigaraki can hear is your soft breath. He doesn’t even realize you’re looking at him in the dimness of his room until he turns his head. His breath catches in his throat. Have you always been so pretty?

The alcohol makes you too sleepy too fast, and it feels like this moment is slipping away from you like you’re trying to cup water in your hands. It’s leaking out of you, and then his red eyes lock onto yours. 

“Why don’t you like me?”

“What do you mean,” and it comes out almost wounded.

“I-hic. I mean, like, when you suddenly act so… mean.”

For the first time in a long time, Shigaraki feels rendered speechless. He wants to jump up and run out of the room like the child he once was, but he can’t find the strength to pull away from your gaze.

“...I don’t know.”

“Why?”

“I just don’t,” and he finally breaks eye contact to look through the window behind you, “you don’t have to pity me, then.”

“I don’t!” 

The end of your words slurs, and you know you’ll lose yourself to the intoxicating feelings of sleep soon.

“I just… I want to like you.”

“Like me?”

You smile widely before you lean forward and press a kiss to his nose. He even goes cross-eyed to try and follow your movements.

“You’re kinda… cute. But, you’re mean. So just be nice! Okay?”

He’s not even sure why he goes along with it.

“Okay.”

Your eyes close, and for a second, he thinks he’s finally free from this impromptu analysis of… well, him. But, you beat him to the chase and whisper quietly.

“I meant it.”

“What?”

“That you’re cute.”

One eye peeks open when he doesn’t respond, and the embarrassment that should be there is only replaced with pure elatedness. His eyes sparkled a bit more. It makes you think that you should compliment him more. You shut your eyes.

“You’re going to be embarrassed tomorrow.”

Maybe he waited too long, but all he knows is that your soft snores escape you quickly, and his heart warms at the sound. It shouldn’t, but it does. He falls asleep shortly after and dreams of a faceless girl who dances with him all night. The girl always keeps smiling at him no matter how stiff he is.

It’s a beautiful dream.

-

Shigaraki’s kind enough to shake you awake just past dawn, and the splitting headache doesn’t make the visual of him leaning over you with a gentle hand easier to see. 

“Hey. Wake up. Some frat dude is gonna yell at you.”

The idea of someone barging in makes you move to sit up and groan, “do you have any water?”

“No. Get up, hurry,” and he’s tugging you off the bed.

It was a bad idea, your sleep-addled brain lagging and causing you to flop directly into a firm chest, “watch out!”

“I’m sorry! I’m barely awake,” and it comes out like a whine, “can we get water?”

You almost think he’ll say no, tell you to fuck off and get water yourself. But, he makes a move you would’ve never expected, calmly lacing his hand with yours and steadying you on your feet.

“Fine, let’s just get going already.”

Was this the Shigaraki you’d met? Had he been replaced by a clone that happened to be identical to the tone of voice? The feeling of a bony hand in yours is unreal. You can hardly take your eyes off the entanglement while Shigaraki urges you to come down the stairs faster than you are.

“Are you listening to me?”

“Did I say something weird last night?”

It comes out in a whisper, and Shigaraki feels like going to college was a huge mistake when he pulls his hand away and holds it close to himself like you’re injured. Like he injured you.

So, be nice! Okay?

“Shigaraki?”

“You said I was cute.”

He’s blushing as he blurts it out like it’s a defense mechanism to keep you from getting closer. You rack your brain for the precise wording, but you can only remember bits and pieces of lying down to look at each other.

Did you really call him cute? You gnaw on your lip and look away, but as you glance at him again, you know you definitely did say that. Your lips turn upwards, the hilarity of you having to double-check while sober if you meant what you’d said...

Shigaraki was even hot now that you really looked at him, even with the tsundere thing going on.

“Well… well! I was drunk! Besides, you can’t tell me you didn’t like hearing it.”

“No, I didn’t. You’re mistaken.”

“What’s that, huh? Why do you look like a tomato, hm?”

He wants to throttle you, wagging your finger in his face and poking his cheek like he’s a zoo animal. 

“I should’ve just left you up there, let you get eaten by wolves.”

“But you didn’t.”

You’re right. Somehow in the mix of pushing you away and being pulled closer, he still stayed there the whole night to keep you safe. He still woke you early enough to escape the wolves lurking in the nearly destroyed frat house. He could’ve let you be eaten by wolves, but he didn’t.

“...Well, whatever. Let’s go.”

“Mkay.”

It’s surprising how you decide to drop the subject. This strange attraction thrummed in your bones, urging you to do something about this little… crush. You let him guide you out the door and towards his car, a beat-up little Toyota. It’s red, too, like his eyes. Maybe it was on purpose.

“You’re okay to drive?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

Shigaraki drives recklessly, you note. The way his hands grip the wheel, tires screeching as he swerves out into the abandoned street and takes off. It should make you scared, want to yell, and demand he let you out. Only he gives you a quick glance and smirks. 

You really should talk to Nejire before you decide to fuck him. His music taste blares out of old speakers, a mix of rock and metal that wakes you like a good cup of coffee. You’re about to lose yourself to the Foo Fighters song, but then he snaps the knob down to zero and clears his throat. 

“You owe me.”

“I owe you what? I don’t owe you,” you even cross your arms for effect.

How cute.

“For taking care of you, ruined my night,” he’s lying, and he knows he’s lying, but he can’t help but take a chance.

Take a chance and see if you really mean it, if he’s not just making things up because you want to be nice. The part that runs deep in his blood tells him it can’t be true, and he hopes that, for once, he’s wrong.

“Psh, ruined. You love being around me. That’s why you get like that,” you push it even further, “you just don’t know how to tell me you want me.”

He doesn’t know what to say, and you’re carelessly whistling a tune while picking at your nails. 

“We have to practice our dance for class,” smooth, peaceful transition.

“Right! Tomorrow evening, in one of the practice rooms, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks for walking me home.”

Shigaraki repeats his reply, and you note that he seems distracted. You wonder if you also seem distracted; you had a lot to think about!...

And all Shigaraki could think about was holding your waist in his hands. It made his heart thump in his chest. God.

The walk to the practice room was cold, and you were thankful for your quick thinking of wearing leg warmers like a ballerina. You’re unsure if Shigaraki is already there, but you’re shaking off the cold as quickly as possible while storming into the building.

He is there! His phone’s hooked up to a small speaker, and the pale blue walls make him shine even in dark clothing. His hair shakes when he gives you a blithe wave, “hey. Took you long enough.”

“Hey! I came as fast as I could. Is that your speaker?”

“Mm, no. My roommate’s, uh… Dabi? You don’t know him.”

Oh, you’ve heard of him. Frankly, this should be an even bigger red flag, but you pay it no mind and shrug, “I might’ve heard of him.”

He chuckles at that. So you have heard of him.

“Well, anyway. He never uses it, so I took it.”

“Wow, evil.”

You drop your bag next to his, a frumpy black backpack with suspicious stains. You sidle close to him, peering at his Spotify while he scrolls for the correct song.

“You should show me your Spotify account!”

“God no, you’ll never see it. C’mon, we need to get this over with.”

“Whaaaat? You don’t want to hang out and stall practicing with me?”

He’s gotten warmer since your first meeting, lips quirked up as he drops his phone and crosses his lazy arms, “nope.”

“Fine! We can practice, and maybe later, I can steal your phone for your Spotify.”

“Yeah, yeah,” his voice dips a bit lower, “c’mere.”

Something inside of you ignites, but you force yourself to ignore it while wrapping your arms around his shoulders; he slumps a bit to accommodate you, making the fire even hotter. You melt like butter into him. The two of you fit perfectly. You could feel it.

The melody is something from an old movie, gentle and sweet with a romantic vibe. It’s causing tension between you and Shigaraki.

It’s making you want to kiss him.

“You stepped on my foot,” he whispers while twirling you in a half-circle.

Squeaking a quiet apology, he rolls his eyes and dips you a tad, “you seem distracted.”

You can hardly hear him over “Easy Lovers” playing in the background. It’s consuming you whole like you might not ever breathe again.

“Do I?”

“Maybe I just don’t know you that well enough,” and you twirl again.

It’s just practicing for class, for a dumb class that wouldn’t even matter in four years. But you didn’t think of anything at that moment, just that you were pressing soft lips against chapped ones with a feeling of passion behind it. Even if he lacked lip balm, the sensation of him gripping your shirt made everything seem so much hotter. Sweeter.

He even has the gall to swipe his tongue over your lip like he’s the one who took the leap and kissed you first. You know that Shigaraki was too shy to kiss you first. 

“...”

It’s dead silent, his Spotify queue echoing automatically and filling the room with music you don’t think you’ve ever heard. Shigaraki nearly shivers at the confused gleam in your eyes.

“It’s called shoegaze.”

“Shoegaze?”

“Yeah,” and he’s barely finishing the word before taking your cheek in hand and bringing you back to him.

Your breath hitches and you want to get so close the two of you nearly fuse together. Dainty hands tangled in his hair, all raggedy and muted like his skin or clothes. Something about how his bony fingers dig into the curve of your waist keeps your head spinning, and you don’t even realize he owns you by pressing you against the wall and licking the inside of your mouth.

“Sh-aah.”

The moan wasn’t too loud, but it echoed in his head. Shigaraki has never been the type to be so openly carnal and animalistic, and yet it was coming out with every kiss he dotted on the skin of your neck. He could fuck you here if he was so pleased, and briefly, he worried when he felt his cock stir in his pants.

You bring him back to you, grasping like a lifeline and laving over the slickness of his mouth and how he was strong enough to carry you just off the ground. It was stupidly hot; when did he get all this power? It’s like it overtook him, and the two of you part; neither of you wanted to.

“We need to stop.”

“But can’t we–”

“No. Not here,” he mulls over his following words with an annoyed look, “and I don’t have a condom.”

You nearly burst out laughing in his face, dry heaving and keeling over. But it’ll upset him, and that’s the last thing you want. “Oh, well, I’m on birth control?”

“Stop.”

He seems firm in his decision, but you can’t help but wiggle your hips toward him enticingly. Maybe he’ll cave, let you give him a handjob or something. I mean, that’s not that bad, right?

“Please?”

Shigaraki would usually feel irritation rise quickly and overwhelm him, but his eyes flicker down to your wandering hands and wiggling hips. Well, he was serious about not wanting to fuck here, but…

“I’m only doing this so you’ll be quiet!”

He sinks to his knees. You salivate at sight, brimming with joy and confidence. His thumbs hook in your belt loops, and he tenderly runs his hands over your thighs, “grab onto the ballet bar.”

You don’t think you’ll collapse to your knees, but you’re shaking in anticipation because he looks like he knows what he’s doing. The way he swiftly tugs your leggings and panties down in one go, you can feel your arousal smearing your thighs; you were already horny just from kissing him.

Finally, he looks relaxed, parting your puffy lips and admiring your dripping hole.

“It’s cute.”

“Shut up,” you’re breathless already with how you can feel his breath right where you need him.

Then, he’s licking from your clenching hole to the nub of your clit, the glide slick with spit as he gets to work.

“Shigaraki!”

You nearly scream, legs angling in too close, but his surprisingly firm grip keeps you how he wants you. Your hands wrench around the ballet bar as he licks every fold so he can taste as much of you as possible. 

It’s wonderful, and you know now that he does in fact, know what he’s doing, especially with how his nose and cheeks are beginning to shine with arousal. He’s eating you like a man starved like he can’t get enough from fucking you on his tongue; he needs more and more. He licks into your hole, savoring every drop with a clench on your ass that’ll leave bruises for days.

He sucks your clit between his lips before pulling away with a pop, “you’re such a fucking brat.”

“I know, I know, and I’m sorry! Just keep,” and you tilt your hips towards his shiny lips again, “please? Feels so good….”

It’s rewarding how he flattens his tongue to grind up your slit, devouring you like he had too much time to practice. The way he toys with your pussy; makes your legs shake and your back arch off the mirror displaying your debauchedness.

Shigaraki mumbles something, but you’re too busy tilting your hips into his face and making him nearly unable to breathe as you tremble on his tongue. He tonguefucks you, digging deep with obscene slurping noises echoing around you, “oh, fuuuuck.”

Your hands entangle in his white strands, grounding you while you speed towards your orgasm like a rocket setting into space. Shigaraki seems to sense your quickened breaths and gyrating hips; his hands grip your ass cheeks to pull you closer as he makes you creamy. He holds you in place, forcing you to feel his tongue grinding flat circles over your clit before dipping down to lap over your pussy. He acts as if it’s a dessert. Like it’s a real treat to eat you out.

He pulls away, mildly huffing out of breath, “stop moving.”

Soft pecks are placed on your inner thighs as he lets you grow needier and needier through pussy neglect, “Shigaraki, please.”

“Please, what? You’re so selfish,” and he gives a hard suck to your clit, “I should just leave you here.”

 “No! No, don’t!” 

His rough treatment of you makes you jump, but he doesn’t leave you like he threatened. Instead, he kissed the mound of soft curls in the apex of your thighs, nose curving down the slope of your thigh as his breath barely ghosted over your slick lips.

“I want you to be the one that makes me feel good,” maybe if you lay it on thick, he’ll be forced to listen to you!

Instead, all he rewards you with is an unreadable look, but then he’s diving back in between your legs, and you can’t focus on what that look means because Shigaraki will make you cum.

“Yes, yes! Keep going, hah… your tongue’s so deep!”

The wet sounds make you flush, and his intensity makes you jump to your tip-toes and tilt away from the warm, wet mouth that chases you no matter how you tilt your hips.

Your legs are shaking, threatening to close, and the stretched coil snap could happen anytime you’re barely saying, “feel like I’m gonna, gonna c-ungh. Gonna cum…!”

He keeps going. Determined and sloppy with how he’s not even taking a second to breathe. You’re nearly there, humping his face with moans of his name that turn his ears pink. A hand snakes up your leg, and there’s a wet squelch as he easily slips two fingers inside. The stretch is delicious torture, and you cum while crying out.

“Shigaraki!”

His fingers help you ride out your orgasm, the remnants glistening on his fingers as your cream sticks to them lewdly before he sucks the essence off. He stands once you’ve regained yourself. 

“Pretty good,” and he gives his hand one last lick; he can’t even stop the snark from appearing.

“Shut up! You’re so embarrassing.”

“Yeah, yeah, didn’t I just make you cum? All whiny, ‘ah, ah! Shigaraki mmph!’ right?”

“No! Not even right at all,” and he casually leans over you with his hands on the ballet bar as if you two were dating as if he was actually your boyfriend, “...but thank you.”

“Thank you?”

“Well, well, I mean! Thank you for… indulging me.”

You had trailed off, not even realizing how close he was to your ear until he whispered a gravelly, “you’re so very welcome for making you cum, if that’s what you mean.”

Neither of you speaks. You can’t help but look down and notice the bulge in his pants. He seems unbothered, but leaving him high and dry feels unfair.

“Do you want me to…?”

He gives a quick glance down but shakes his head, “Nah. We should just wrap all of this up, though.” 

“Right,” and yet you don’t stop thinking about it while both of you make the practice room look neat again.

Even while walking you back home, his second time, Shigaraki knows that there’s something secretive on your mind.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing! Just tired.”

“...Right.”

He stares at you for too long before you head into your dorm. You know what’s coming but don’t make the first move. He’s quick about it, but he does kiss you. It’s so fast, sweet, and low stakes that you smile warmly at him.

“Goodnight, Shigaraki.”

The boy nods, pulling up his hoodie, “night.”

You can’t wait to tell Nejire all about it.

“You what?! You had sex with Shigaraki?!”

Nejire’s in disbelief, nearly falling off her bed as she bolts towards your side of the room, “you really did?”

“Other people can probably hear you! But, well, yeah. It wasn’t like we went all the way or anything! He just went down on me,” the pink in your cheeks is evident while you begin to unravel the story.

“Wait, where was this again?”

“Oh. The, well, the practice room?”

“The practice room?!.”

She suddenly bursts into laughter, and you feel your cheeks twitching as you squeeze her hands, “c’mon, it’s not funny!”

“No, no, it’s not. I didn’t think Shigaraki would eat pussy in the practice room!”

Sometimes you regret telling your roommate anything, but it took the edge off thinking about how he hadn’t texted you. Should you expect a text? You figured it would be something lighthearted, but he just went radio-silent. Just like that, it hurt, you had to admit. But, you weren’t gonna let him get away with it. You’ll get your payback soon, finally get him to realize what he’s really feeling.

You hope it’s the same as what you’re really feeling.

Then, the day of your presentation is like the sunrise. Knowing everyone would be watching you didn’t ease your nerves. Considering Shigaraki had been ignoring your texts since the last time you met, it felt like he was contributing to your anxiety just as much as the actual dance! You could hardly get dressed, shrugging on your comfiest yet presentable clothes. 

Maybe he thought it was a mistake, and your fingers were itching to send a text. Nejire had advised you to send something short and sweet before leaving for the day, and you finally cave while brushing your teeth.

[Dance Partner]: Do you want to meet up before class?

Shigaraki lay in bed, still in pajamas and debating whether to drop out. His heartbeat spikes at the message, and it feels so dumb to get excited over a mere text. He’d been practicing, unbeknownst to you, spending so much time in the bathroom with the door locked to practice his footwork that he’d gotten an angry text from his roommate.

[Shigaraki]: I think it’s fine

Part of you wonders if he’ll show up at all.

[Dance Partner]: I’m nervous.

He doesn’t reply, but he feels the same. Eventually, he meandered his way to his closet to pick his outfit. Yeah, he was nervous too. 

You spot him first, and part of you wants to wave him over but he seems to hardly look up. This was all fruitless. You should’ve never done anything in that practice room. Tears prickle your vision at the sudden emotion of it, a test, and knowing a guy wants nothing to do with you? It sucks much more than you thought it would.

“Hey.”

He’s calm, voice smooth and honeyed as he sits next to you. Hopefully, he doesn’t notice your glassy eyes.

“Hey.”

The silence passes between you as more people file in, and Nemuri sets up the class materials. 

“I don’t think you should be nervous,” he pauses to side-eye you, “I’ve been practicing.”

“You have?”

“Yeah. I don’t want to give you a bad grade, and I need to pass.”

He put you first, and maybe it’s dumb to analyze his order of priorities, but it makes you feel special, “I think we’ll do well.”

You finally turn to look at him, and he’s already looking at you.

“Stop acting weird.”

“I-I’m not! I’m just nervous!”

“Yeah, right,” and a gentle hand settles on your knee, “I know what you’re thinking. About the practice room.”

“You’re the one that didn’t text me back.”

He doesn’t reply right away, but you know he feels terrible. The way he swallows and clenches his free fist, the regret is a bit palpable.

“...I know, and I’m sorry.”

He squeezes your knee for emphasis, “genuinely.”

You suppose it’s okay, mumbling that you forgive him and relishing in the burn that his hand leaves on your leg. Nejire clears her throat, and you listen to her instructions. His hand doesn’t leave your knee.

She calls your names about halfway into class, and suddenly the lights seem too bright once you’re on stage. You can feel your leg shaking as you stand interlocked with Shigaraki. He looks calm and collected. If anything, he seems to be more worried about you. 

Indeed he can feel your anxiety shakes, and then his thumb rubs the space between your collarbones. It suddenly feels like everything will be alright.

“Are you two ready?”

You squeak out a “yes!” and Shigaraki merely nods; the music follows, and you retreat into your mind to remember every step.

“Don’t be nervous,” he whispers softly, and you feel like you could do anything.

The two of you dance to the same song in the practice room while you swim across the floor with grace, the type of grace that’s only there because you have a connection. It comes effortlessly, Shigaraki leading with you following as he steadily guides you by your waist. 

You remember to make eye contact, and your breath is stolen because your biggest fears have been confirmed. You like Shigaraki. You want him carnally. More than anything in the world, you move like two souls on the same plane. Everything about it is perfect.

He stops the momentum, your upper half steadily supported by a hand that shows so much tenderness between your shoulder blades. The two of you were breathing softly, near exhaustion with the way your bodies swirled together into one.

“Excellent! Very nice. Any critiques?”

The spell is broken, and you’re collecting your breath while smoothing your clothes. Whew, that was something. Your eyes track toward Shigaraki’s, and he’s looking at you again.

“I thought you guys looked very clean,” said a meek girl desperate to escape the room’s silence.

You offer a “thanks” and note the critique of better posture, among other surface criticism. Nemuri writes on her clipboard, smiling and nodding, “excellent, thank you, you two.”

“I have to go, excuse me.”

He leaves you alone on the stage to race up the stairs to collect his backpack. You’re knocked out of a trance and thrown into deep waters, and Nemuri begins to call the next names.

“Hiroshi, is your partner not here? Oh, and,” she turns back to you, “you can take a seat now.”

You do.

It’s time to settle this, Shigaraki decides. There’s a three-day break coming up, and his mind has been looping back to it every passing class. He couldn’t keep running away from you anymore after you were assigned different partners for the next dance. If he doesn’t act, he’ll completely lose you.

And for the record, Nemuri was a liar. Could she not see the connection between you two? Even he could see it, and he wished he couldn’t.

It felt like you were slipping away, partnered with someone else, and Shigaraki had been conversing with you sparsely. It was torture, Hell on Earth if he had to imagine it. You’re getting lost in the waves, and he’s losing his grip.

Meanwhile, you’ve been getting on top of your classwork and contacting your new dance partner, Eijirou. It doesn’t feel the same of course, not when you can feel Shigaraki’s eyes on you every time you’re in the arms of the redhead.

You don’t expect anything from him anymore; you pretend not to. The ding sounds from your phone, and you just know.

[Shigaraki]: hey

It makes your heart race, and you can feel your pulse thrumming in your neck.

[Her]: Hey

[Shigaraki]: wyd

[Her]: I’m not doing this

[Shigaraki]: come over

[Her]: No

[Shigaraki]: i wanna see you

You want to slap yourself. Tell him there’s no way you can deal with his hot and cold nature. That even if you like him, he’s not good for you. You can’t, shouldn’t, wouldn’t, won’t.

[Her]: Come to my dorm and walk with me, it’s too dark and cold

[Shigaraki]: omw

Waiting feels painful. You spend a minute making sure you are moisturized and smelling good, and then eventually, he’s at the sliding door of the dorm. You’re wearing a simple long-sleeve, and you’re keen to pick up on the fact that he really brought you a coat.

“Hey,” you smile and eagerly embrace him the tiniest bit.

“Hey, take it. ‘M tired of holding it,” and your hands are brushing when you take the black hoodie to slip over your head.

The walk is quiet, and you can feel anticipation climbing up your spine as the two of you grow closer and closer. The cold is nonexistent, not with the warmth you feel because of the boy beside you.

“Is your roommate home?”

He shakes his head, hand steady as he slips the key into the lock and brings you into his space. The lights flicker on, and you’re smiling at his side of the room. Dark, a bit punk, and he’s totally unashamed of it. He drops the keys in the bowl, turning his head first before fully facing you.

“So–”

You’re rushing to jump into his arms, connecting your lips effortlessly in a kiss that soothes all aches you’d ever had about him. You knew he would catch you, and you fit like the sun and moon. The connection makes you heave into the kisses, leaning into the slickness of saliva coating your lips while he pushes you against the nearest wall. 

It feels like dancing, the way your tongues slide against each other with a fierceness while he shrugs off his jacket. You’re already wet, impossibly wet, and the mewls come out despite you trying to swallow them. The need for him is so strong you’re dropping your legs to move things along.

“You’re so fucking hot,” pressing his forehead against yours, “holy shit.”

“You wanna see more?”

Peeling off the sweatshirt to catch your curves worn under the fitted long-sleeve. His hand circles your lower back, eyes locked onto how your tits nearly spill out of its v-neck. They’re so easy to hold; his hand is already sliding up your side to the underside of your breasts. 

“Can I?”

“Of course,” you whisper while tugging his hand to squeeze your tits, sighing at the contact.

“No bra?”

“What, you, ah! You want it to get in the way?”

“God, no,” His other hand meets your other tit, fully groping you, and his eyes nearly crimson with need.

His hardness is apparent, the bulge nudging against your thigh while his knee applies delicious pressure to your aching clit; you can’t stop your hips from grinding up against his leg.

“Kiss me,” and he’s quick to shut you up, hands raking under your shirt to feel skin on skin.

“Shigaraki!”

He could listen to you say that all day, but he can’t stand how the two of you are still so tightly clothed. Your shirt comes up, and you’re quick to immediately tug it off and grind on his leg again. It’s sticky, hot, and heady as the two of you dry-hump against the only space on the wall. 

“Wait, we should…we should move to the bed,” and he doesn’t seem to hear you with how he lurches forward to lick into your mouth, “Sh-Shigaraki.”

The kisses only stop for a moment, but then he’s pushing away from the wall and guiding you by the hands to the bed. He slips off his sweatpants, leaving his boxers on, and you mirror him. It almost feels too intimate when he stares at you once settled on top of you, and you can’t take it.

His hand circles your nipple slowly, making you arch at the feeling of him toying with your chest, “mm!”

Resting on his left hand, you watch as the bony hand travels downwards, swooping under your tit to glide past your belly button and reach the black band of your panties, “may I?”

You’ve never been so turned on, and you’re sure it’ll be smeared all over your thighs by the end of this tryst. Lifting your hips, he tosses the panties onto the floor, and your face burns with how your wetness immediately soaks his fingers when he runs them through your slit.

“You’re so wet, you’re that needy?”

“I just need you to touch me…!”

He gives a low hum, digits circling your clit so slowly that your legs jump closed, “keep them open.”

You’re getting desperate, eager to feel him slip his fingers inside and crook them up, but he’s so calm and attentive. Taking his time, he looks at every inch of your pussy with fire in his eyes. You’re dripping, and the slick sounds when he just barely slips his middle finger into your hole nearly echo.

Finally, he indulges you by slipping it in deep and rubbing your clit with his thumb. You can hardly breathe, toes curling as you hold his wrist to keep fingering you, “fuck, feels so good!”

He can only chuckle, curling his fingers and hitting that gooey spongy spot that arches your back and leaves muffled cries spilling through your fingers. It feels so good, too good, and you’re soaring as he finally starts to thrust his hand.

“Come on, let me hear what you have to say. Do you like it? Do you want more?”

“I wan, I want…!”

He forces his hand, adjusting to a steady rhythm that you can practically hear yourself getting close from the stimulation of being finger-fucked. Looking down at you, he’s keyed into every movement. Every noise and body twitch. It’s like he’s been possessed to make you cum, and you’re nearly there.

“Gonna cum, fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you grappled for your tit like a lifeline, and it was like a show with how he watched you tug at your chest.

It’s so desperate, and it feels perfect to finally be connected and feel the heat of his breath while he makes you cream on his hand. You’re at his mercy, and he knows it, “go on and cum. Wanna fuck you.”

You nearly black out, the tension snapping like a rubber band as you gyrate your hips. It’s debauched, but you hardly care when Shigaraki rubs a tight circle on your clit, “heh.”

“You’re,” you’re still panting, and he grins.

“I’m what?”

He’s shrugging his boxers off while you recover, and your clit throbs once he exposes his cock, lean and long like his fingers. 

“Nothing!”

“Cat got your tongue?”

You circle closer to him, watching eagerly as he slips the condom on with ease. Your mouth’s watering and you want to go down on him badly, but he has other plans. 

“Wanna do doggy?”

“Yeah,” and it’s the hottest sight he’s ever seen when you bend over, exposing your clenching hole waiting to be filled. Your ass is up in the air, and you look perfectly spread out for him. 

The slap on your ass makes you jump, but Shigaraki seems happy with the way he kneads the fat of your ass. His cock bumps into your pussy as he maneuvers himself, and the slickness of it sliding between your folds and bumping your clit makes you shake.

“God, I could fuckin’ tease you forever,” and he grips the base of his cock with a groan, “I don’t know why I waited so long.”

“I know! Why don’t you–”

He slides home, he’s not too girthy, but the length makes your arms shake while supporting your body, “oh god.”

“Yeah, fuckkk, yeah.”

It’s a slow rhythm, clearly reveling in the wet warmth and tightness of your hole; he’s got a death grip on your hip as he shallowly thrusts into you, “amazing pussy.”

You can only moan a “thanks” as he moves a bit more, cockhead dragging against your walls and then filling you back up till you feel like you can’t breathe. The bed creaks, and he starts pounding you so hard it cries. Jolting you forward, you can’t even lean away from how he plows himself into you, balls slapping against your clit, giving you aftershocks.

It’s messy, and he’s barely holding his rhythm because you’re squeezing around him so tight and he feels like he might shoot his load any second. He slows down for a mere second to rub your clit, lean body resting on yours as he moves his hips in tandem with yours.

He’s panting and is too stuck on your eyes rolling back to notice he’s inching closer and closer to his orgasm. The coil is hot in his tummy as he ravages you and makes you take all of him. The connection drives you wild, and soon you’re pushed face-first into the pillows as he fucks you like a fleshlight. 

“Fuck, fuck, oh my god,” and he fucking whimpers inside of you.

It sends your head spinning as he reaches his peak, a hand slapping your ass as the two of you move together. Your ass smacks against his lower abs, and the slick that coats the top of the hair around his base makes him heave, “I’m gonna cum. Fuck, gonna milk this sweet pussy.”

You barely crane your head to catch a view, and he looks heavenly, and his eyes draw shut. He’s barely even thrusting, just mashing into you deeper and harder. He opens his eyes, and the red in them turns nearly burgundy as he grunts.

“Shiga-Shigaraki…!”

One, two, and then he’s pinning you down with his body weight as his hips jerk up into you. You know he’s wearing a condom, but part of you wants to imagine the heat filling your insides and breeding you. The thought of it makes you squeeze around him, and his fingers leave bruises on tender parts of your flesh.

It takes a minute for your breath to calm. The feeling of satiation with Shigaraki still buried to the hilt in you feels so comforting that you could fall asleep. You’re barely there, thoroughly fucked and floating in space. He has enough strength to interlock your hands on top of you, and the two of you bask in the post-coital glow.

“You gonna get off me any time soon?”

He offers a steady deep breath before replying.

“Nope. It’s my reward for looking after you at that party.”

“Really? You’re still on that?”

Sidelining you again, you remember why he frustrates you so much once again. But it doesn’t hurt this time; it just feels good.

“Go on a date with me.”

“You can’t just change the subject like that!”

“Then go on a date with me, and I won’t have to.”

Your mouth flattens into a straight line, “you’re lame.”

Small kisses dot the curve of your neck as he finally pulls himself out of you. You leave in a flash to use the bathroom and return to the covers being pulled up just for you.

The two of you settle on meeting up next Monday.

[Shigaraki]: See you at the ice skating rink

You never knew Shigaraki would be one to skate between you two? He didn’t, either. He supposed you just bring out that side of him.

The side that likes dancing, ice skating, and you.