Flamme-shigaraki-spithoe - Just A Big Simp 🤌✨

PLS DO SHIGGY THIGH FUCKING HCS thank u ily

I honestly didn't think I'd write on here again but I can't sleep and it's like 5:30 in the morning lol. So I'll write some thigh fuckin' headcanons to ease the stress 😎 (also TW: for thigh fucking, somnophilia, long post in general LMFAO. If I missed anything I apologize. Also it's now 6:19 after finishing it so there's probably typos I've missed after briefly skimming this so Im also sorry for that LMFAO)

(EDIT after writing. I'm so sorry this ended up not being headcanons and was just a full on drabble I found of pulled out of my ass but I hope you still enjoy it lol)

Now truthfully I havent even watched/finished the seasons after season 4 lol. I'm in the middle of season 5 still because I'm severely depressed and can't enjoy anything. But that doesn't mean I don't still love shigaraki and tbh I still read fanfiction from time to time about him or dabi.

I feel like a lot of people paint shigaraki as either absolutely vile and grimey or just aloof and soft with a grumpy attitude. And I feel like it's a bit of both. Which really plays into his sex life (if he'll ever have one). But even without a sex life, his personality most certainly plays into his fantasies and kinks.

I want to also emphasize that fantasies are just that, fantasies. Shigaraki most likely has plenty of fantasies that he'd never dream of acting out with his partner should he ever have one. I feel like even if he had some sick fantasies or kinks, and you happened to be okay with it, he would still be iffy because if this man, for whatever reason, picked you out of everyone else?? He's not going to treat you like absolute garbage. Shigaraki is definitely not the nicest person by any means, but by God if he cares about someone he fucking cares. Esp because you're probably the only person who actually loves him in his entirety. So if he's into noncon, somnophilia, predator/prey play, or whatever, it's going to be a while before he gets comfortable bringing up any of those fantasies with you.

Now that I've gotten that out of the way, you're wondering "goddamnit ash shut the fuck up and tell me the thigh f-" wELL THATS TOO DAMN BAD YOU LISTEN TO SEGGSY MONOLOGUE OR YOU GET NOTHING. ty luv u.

Okay so his fantasies right ? What are shigarakis kinks ? Does he have any? Oh absolutely. And they range from either something as light and soft as hickeys and tying you up in silk while eating you out for 2 hours to nipple clamps and making you wail with hot tears and shoving a dildo down your throat telling you take it like you've taken every other mans cock down your throat because he knows stupid sluts like you are always capable of doing those things if you know it'll make your pussy soak the sheets.

Now it's not his top fantasy, but thigh fucking. And God do you have the prettiest thighs. It doesn't matter is there's stretch marks, if they're chubby, skinny, or if you have immense scarring on them he LOVES them. He loves how soft they are. He loves how they look in shorts or a skirt (esp when you keep trying to pull them down a bit because they're a size smaller than what you wanted so they don't pudge out). He loves how your delicate hands lay on top of your thighs while you fiddle with your fingers out of nervousness. He loves the way they move when he walks behind you, you have a walk that puts any model to shame. He just loves them . And by God does he throb at thought of getting to push his cock past your sweaty or oily thighs. The head of his dick barely kissing your clit each time he thrusts. But that's not the biggest and best part at all. He wants to wake you up to it. You've told him countless times he can wake you up to any sexual acts but he's still nervous. But he's really horny right now. And you're sweaty from the lack of AC and you're naked on your side sleeping away. But he genuinely can't think of anything else other than how wet your pussy must be right now and how slick your thighs must be from the heat of the room. His cock is absolutely aching to slide between your thighs and folds. He has never felt so hungry until he met someone with a body as inviting as your own. He's been stroking for the past couple minutes but it's just not enough .

He peels off the throw blanket you have over you because despite the heat you always love your blanket to sleep. But even after the blanket is removed you still don't wake . He slowly examines your body and grazes his hand down your body. Going over your shoulders and arms to ribs to hip bone. Finally meets that beautiful soft ass of yours. He gentle lifts your thigh to angle and can see your pussy . Its so wet and glistening from the lights on the street coming in through your window, beaming in and lighting up your skin to a beautiful warm glow.

He lifts up one of your slick folds, seeing your pretty clit and rubbing his thumb in tiny circles on it. He can't take it anymore and slides his cock between your thighs, his shaft rubbing your leaking pussy and making your clit throb even more. You may be asleep but your cunt is always awake and ready to be touched by him.

He starts thrusting slowly to building up that pressure in his groin to make his orgasm feel even better in the end. He can feel you coating his shaft with your juices more and more with each desperate thrust he makes to your thighs. Your thighs are so sweaty and warm and grip his dick so nicely taking any and every drop of cum he wants to and could ever give you. He can hear slight wet sounds coming from your cunt with each thrust that keeps getting more rapid and animalistic with each thrust because you dont know how to stop being such a needy whore all the time even in your sleep. Before he knows it you're gushing and your cum is on the sheets making him go over the edge. Now he's spitting thick, white shots of cum all over your thighs while drops of it roll down your skin onto the bed as well. You're still mostly asleep, but youve adorned a dazed smile on your face with a satisfied tomura passed out next you .

Love Like Ghosts - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

You knew the empty house in a quiet neighborhood was too good to be true, but you were so desperate to get out of your tiny apartment that you didn't care, and now you find yourself sharing space with something inhuman and immensely powerful. As you struggle to coexist with a ghost whose intentions you're unsure of, you find yourself drawn unwillingly into the upside world of spirits and conjurers, and becoming part of a neighborhood whose existence depends on your house staying exactly as it is, forever.

But ghosts can change, just like people can. And as your feelings and your ghost's become more complex and intertwined, everything else begins to crumble.

Cross-posted to Ao3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9

Chapter 1

There’s something wrong with your house, but you knew that when you bought it. Rent in the city you live in is so goddamn fucking high that it was either keep living with the worst roommates in existence or find a way out to the suburbs. But the suburbs are wall-to-wall McMansions, so far out of your price range that calling it a bad joke would be an insult to both concepts. All except this one single neighborhood. And within this one single neighborhood, this one single house.

You knew there had to be a reason it hadn’t sold. You’re not an idiot. So you did your research, like the law student you wanted to be before your loans from undergrad kicked in, and found absolutely nothing. No murders in the house’s history. No accidental deaths. No urban legends about curses and creepy children living in the walls. You even went so far as to track down a previous owner, who was perfectly nice, and perfectly willing to talk about the three weeks he spent living there before he sold it and ran for the hills.

No, he said, he didn’t hear anything. Or see anything. No strange accidents or unstable floorboards. There were no strange bumps in the night or objects left out of place. Just a constant, ever-present feeling that he was being watched.

Carbon monoxide leak, maybe. When the pre-purchase inspection happened, you made them check that twice. And for toxic mold. But there was nothing. Just an old house in a too-big lot at the end of a quiet street, hemmed in by the wetlands on three sides. A total steal. You couldn’t believe that no one had bought it.

People come close, your realtor told you on your last walk-through. One time I had a lady come all the way to the end of escrow before she backed out.

Why’d she back out? you asked idly. Your realtor made a face. She didn’t say?

Oh, she said all right. Said something was wrong. That it didn’t like her. The realtor scoffed. It doesn’t like or not like anybody. It’s a house.

He said that, but you could tell he didn’t believe it, and because of that, you asked him if you could finish the walkthrough alone. He left reluctantly, clearly concerned that you were going to back out of the sale, too. You weren’t planning on it. You just wanted to see if there was something you were missing, if everybody else who hadn’t bought this house had picked up on something you didn’t. You walked from room to room, picturing where you’d eat, where you’d sleep, where you’d set up your office when you finally went to law school and got licensed and set up your own practice. You didn’t feel anything wrong, even when you sat down in front of the fireplace and played devil’s advocate one last time, trying to talk yourself out of signing the papers. It was just a house. Your house.

When you came down the front steps, your realtor was leaning against his car, looking more than a little dejected. His face fell when he saw you coming. Change your mind?

You shook your head. Give me the papers, you said. And I’ll need a pen.

Moving in took you one weekend. Less, even. Living in tiny apartments through college and your first few years on the job didn’t give you much room to accumulate pointless stuff, as much as you might have liked gathering little trinkets as a kid. It took you one and a half trips to move all the important stuff, and then it was just you yourself. You, yourself, and your dog.

Looking back, you definitely should have brought Phantom with you to check things out before you signed the papers. In horror movies, dogs are always the first ones to figure things out. But when you hooked up Phantom’s leash and let her out of the car to sniff around, she didn’t react at all beyond how dogs usually react to arriving in a new place – sniffing everything, picking up everything in her mouth, yanking at the leash until you let her tow you around the front yard. When she clambered up the steps to flop down on the porch, you breathed a sigh of relief. Phantom liked it here. You liked it, too.

And you still like it, three and a half weeks after you moved in. In fact, you think you might like it more than you did when you moved in. That’s not a surprise, really – your main criteria in buying a house was that it was a house, and not an apartment you have to share. Sure, your commute in to work sucks now, but it’s worth it when you get to come home to somewhere quiet. No terrible music. No terrible perfume or makeup smears on the bathroom counter. No rotting food in the fridge or moldy dishes in the sink. Nobody’s having very loud, very kinky sex in the room next to yours all night, because there’s no room next to yours – and there’s nobody in your house but you. You sort of wish you’d done the home ownership thing a while ago. It would have saved you a lot of stress.

“It’s kind of perfect, actually,” you say to your friend over FaceTime. “Really perfect. I wish you could come see it.”

“Yeah, me too. But you know how it is. Loans.”

“Loans,” you agree. “The downpayment on this place basically cleaned me out. If anything goes wrong I’m going to have to start selling my organs.”

Your friend laughs. “Start with plasma. You can replace that easier.”

“Or feet pics. I don’t have to replace those at all.”

She laughs, and so do you, and the sound echoes through your house. “Listen to that,” your friend marvels. “It must be dead quiet there.”

Quiet, sure – but over the past three weeks, you’ve noticed that the house feels alive even when nobody’s making noise on purpose. You can hear Phantom’s toenails clicking on the floor in the living room and remind yourself to get a rug. And a couch. You’re doing laundry, and the sound it makes is comforting. The hum of the fridge is, too. “I don’t mind,” you say. “I like it here. The only problem is the dust.”

The house has been empty for years by now, so it makes sense that there’s a lot of dust. You knew that going in, and you’re still slightly horrified at the clouds that come up every time you touch a surface that you haven’t dusted earlier that day. “We’ll just call you Cinderella,” your friend jokes, and you scowl. “Or not. Sheesh, lighten up. And throw a housewarming party! Get some real noise in there.”

“We’ll see,” you say. The idea of letting people you work with know where you live is frankly upsetting. And so is this conversation, honestly. You don’t know where the frustration’s coming from, but you’ve got to get off the phone. “I have to go. Phantom’s eating something and I need to fish it out. Love you.”

“Love y-”

You end the call and drop your phone screen-down on the table. The frustration you felt before is ebbing already, and with it comes relief – and confusion. You know you’ve got a bit of a temper, but you never let it out on friends, and you keep it hidden at work. Even at home you’re careful. You got Phantom from a rescue, and too much banging around or sharp words stresses her out. So why did you get so close there? Is the fairytale thing really that upsetting? Were you really that pissed at the idea of letting someone else in your house? Why?

Because it’s yours. It’s your place, where you don’t have to make excuses for anything you’re doing, where you can do whatever you want. God knows you worked hard to be able to have this place. You’re going to enjoy it the way you want to enjoy it. Nobody else gets a say.

The weird mood clings to you through the afternoon and into the evening. Of course it’s a Sunday, which means you’ve burned through the last of your weekend being mad at a friend over nothing. You could keep moping, or you could try to get out of it. You pick door number two and head out to the back porch with Phantom.

You didn’t pay much attention to the yard when you bought the house. You were more interested in the bigger stuff, like making sure it wasn’t haunted or cursed. But the yard is – nice. Or it will be nice, once you get your shit together and start pulling weeds. You got rid of anything that might make Phantom sick, but you’ve let everything else run wild, and the blackberry bushes along the border to the wetlands grow so high you can’t even see the fence. You did check and make sure there was a fence, of course. Phantom is pretty docile, but it’s hard to trust the judgment of a dog who chews on her own feet and sleeps upside down.

She looks like she’s having fun, though. She’s doing that thing dogs do, where they clearly want to take off at high speed but can’t decide which direction to go. Maybe you should help her out. You pick up her ball out of her toybox and wave it to get her attention. “Come on, Phantom! Go get it! Get your ball!”

She starts running before you’ve even thrown it, and you call her back, laughing. “Come here, you. I’ve still got it. Wait –”

She prances in place, ears pricked and tail wagging. “Wait – okay, go! Go get it!”

You chuck the ball and she takes off after it at full speed, catching it on the run and depositing it back at your feet covered in grass and slime. You remind yourself that slime is part of having a dog. You pick it up and throw it again, and again. On the third throw, Phantom stops mid-chase and freezes in the middle of the yard.

You’ve never seen her do that before. “Phantom,” you say, but she doesn’t turn. “Phantom, leave it. Come here.”

She doesn’t move. She whines, cowers, wiggles a few steps backwards – and then the biggest coyote you’ve ever seen springs out of the darkness, jaws wide open and ready to close on Phantom’s throat.

Phantom turns and bolts, but she’s not fast enough. Its jaws close on her hind leg and she howls. “No,” you shout, your voice somehow strident and shrill at the same time. You pick up the nearest thing you can find – your phone, totally useless – and bounce it off the coyote’s head. It snarls and lets go of Phantom, who limps back to your side, making the worst sounds you’ve ever heard in your life. You can’t help but try to calm her, even as the coyote prowls closer, even as you watch your dog’s blood drip from its teeth. “Sweet baby. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

The coyote’s going to bite you. You’re going to live with that. But while it’s biting you, you can hurt it as much as possible. You’re bigger. You have body weight and hands and a dog you have to protect, and so what if the fucker looks absolutely rabid? There’s a shot for that. They can probably give it to you at the emergency vet when you take Phantom in. The coyote sinks into a crouch, preparing to lunge. You get your feet under you and try to calm the racing of your heart. The coyote snarls, leaps, and –

And. You don’t know how to process what you’re seeing, so you’re stuck on and. And the coyote is poised in midair, thrashing and snarling at something that’s holding it in place with all four of its paws off the ground. And it stays suspended there just long enough for you to blink a few times, for you to realize that what you’re looking at is real. And then its neck breaks with a hideous snap, so hard that its head is nearly torn off, and its body drops to the ground at your feet.

You stagger back, almost tripping on Phantom – and then you scoop her up in your arms, even though she’s not anywhere close to being carryable long-term. It’s the only way to be safe as you back up the porch stairs, as you both collapse just in front of the back door. Something just happened. Your dog’s leg is bleeding and your heart is pounding and something just happened. What was it?

Something broke the coyote’s neck. That didn’t just happen on its own. Something killed the coyote, fast and brutal but not fast enough that you didn’t see fear flash in its eyes when it realized there was no way out. It wasn’t another animal that did that, and there was nobody in your yard but you. This isn’t the kind of thing that happens when you move into a nice, normal house. This is the kind of thing that happens when your house is haunted. And whatever’s haunting your house can snap necks with its bare hands.

But not your neck, you realize. Not your neck, and not Phantom’s. Whatever’s haunting your house can kill things, but it hasn’t killed you or your dog, in spite of having all kinds of opportunities to do so. In fact, this is the first time anything haunted has happened in your house at all, and it paid off for you, big-time. Maybe whatever’s in your house is –

Friendly is not a word you’re going to use when there’s a sort of mutilated, completely dead body in your yard. But you think you can safely call whatever it is ‘not hostile’, at least not to you. And if it’s not being hostile to you, you should be friendly in response. “I don’t know who did that,” you say to your empty yard. “But whoever it was, thank you.”

You don’t wait for a response. Your dog is hurt, and you have to get her to the vet, and for the rest of the night you don’t think about what happened at all. But the next morning, when you go out to chuck the dead coyote over the fence and patch up whatever hole it got in through, the coyote is gone. The only evidence that anything happened at all are a few drops of Phantom’s blood dried on the ground, and a spot of dry, dead grass that was definitely alive last night.

There’s something wrong with your house, but you knew that when you bought it, and when you talked to the previous owner, it’s not like he didn’t warn you. But what he warned you about isn’t quite what’s happening to you. The previous owner, a perfectly nice guy named Shirakumo, told you that he spent his entire three weeks here feeling like he was under a microscope. Like it was trying to make up its mind about me, he said. I decided I didn’t want to be here when it figured it out.

You’re pretty sure whatever’s in the house has made up its mind about you. At least enough to decide that between you and the coyote, it would rather keep you around. So unlike Shirakumo, you don’t feel like you’re being watched. You just feel like you’re not alone.

It’s a weird distinction, but it’s undeniably there. There’s something in here with you, something unseen, and if it was watching you, you’d know. It isn’t watching you. It’s doing whatever things it does, and you’re doing the kind of things you do, just coexisting side by side in your new house. It’s there when you leave and it’s there when you come home, just like Phantom is, and Phantom doesn’t seem to mind it. More than a few times, you’ve caught her play-bowing and wagging her tail at empty space. If she was nervous about it, you’d be nervous, too – but dogs always know when a house is haunted in horror movies, and Phantom’s not acting scared. But your house is still haunted. Maybe it’s just not haunted like that.

You tell yourself to just live with it, but it starts getting weird after a little while. If someone was here in person, you’d talk to them, include them in the silly questions you ask Phantom about whether the two of you should get takeout for dinner instead of cooking and whether or not she is in fact the bestest girl in the whole wide world. Maybe the thing in the house is waiting for you to talk to it, and getting upset that you’re not. This is a good time for you to remind yourself, like you do every so often, that the thing in your house isn’t friendly just because it’s not hostile to you, and it can still snap necks with its bare hands. It’s in your best interest to keep it – not hostile.

You keep telling yourself to talk to it, and you keep chickening out for a whole week and a half. Then you’re in the middle of emptying the dishwasher and hit your head on an open cabinet door hard enough that you see stars. Then you stumble backwards and land flat on your ass on the kitchen tiles. “Fuck,” you say, with feeling, and Phantom comes running. “Sorry, sweetie. I’m fine. I’m just a dumbass.”

You’re conscious of the thing in your house, of the fact that it’s here, just like always. It’s not watching you, but if it was, what would it say about this little scene? A response flies into your head, and you say it before you can think of whether or not it’s the smart thing to do. “Yeah, keep laughing. The first time this happens to you I’m going to laugh my ass off.”

There’s no response, but you weren’t expecting one. You should probably have made your opening statement to the ghost a little friendlier. But your neck hasn’t snapped yet, so you pick yourself up off the floor, close the cabinet so you won’t hit your head again and kick off round two of this embarrassment, and get back to work.

Attempt one on talking to the ghost was a failure, but you have a rule about trying things at least three times before you give up, so you try again. This time you come home from work, greet Phantom like always, and then slowly, deliberately turn to face the totally empty patch of air in the hallway. “Hi,” you say. “I’m home.”

Nothing then, either, and if you’d started the sentence with “honey” instead of “hi” you’d have sounded exactly like your dad. You’ve always thought that the way characters in movies deal with their haunted houses is cringe. Yours is a different kind of cringe. Possibly a worse kind of cringe. But when you turn away from the empty air, your neck stays unbroken, and that sense of company, of presence, doesn’t fade. If nothing else, you’re not pissing it off.

To be clear, you don’t talk to your house all the time. You don’t feel like talking all the time. But when you do, you start speaking out loud, and soon it becomes a habit. It might be an embarrassing habit, but it’s not the worst thing in the world. And talking to it instead of tiptoeing around it makes you feel a little better about the situation. Less like you’re being haunted. More like you’re at home.

Your coworkers find out that you moved after two months. You’re not sure how, because you definitely didn’t tell them, but you did have to tell HR to start sending your pay stubs to a new address. Somebody there must have spilled the beans, and as pissed as you are, there’s nothing you can do about it now. Just like there’s nothing you can do about the fact that half your coworkers have invited themselves over for an impromptu housewarming party. Tonight.

“This is stupid,” you complain as you wipe down every flat surface on the first floor, trying to get as much of the ever-present dust up as possible. “I see them enough at work. The whole point of working is so I can afford to spend time not at work.”

Phantom huffs a little bit. She’s mostly friendly, but big groups bother her, especially big groups with too many loud guys. “I would never just invite myself over to someone’s house,” you continue. Back in the day you’d have called a friend to complain. Now you just do it out loud. “How the hell am I going to get them to leave? They’re not going to want to leave. This place is perfect.”

You pause for a second, transfixed with horror at the idea of having to kick your coworkers out. “This sucks. Think it’s too l ate for me to fake my own death?” As soon as you say that, you wish you hadn’t. You don’t want the thing in your house to offer to help. “I can’t do that. If I don’t have a job, I don’t have a mortgage payment, and I need a mortgage payment so I can keep my house.”

You finish dusting, then dig out a baby gate from when Phantom was still potty-training and prop it across the stairs. You don’t want anybody thinking it’s okay to go upstairs. The doorbell rings just as you’re straightening up. Coworkers. You grit your teeth, then paste on a smile and go to open the front door. “Hi. Go ahead and invite yourselves in.”

If you’re going to be fair to your coworkers – and you feel like you have to be, because otherwise you might kill them and wind up with a whole bunch of ghosts haunting your house – not all of them are bad. They don’t have to be bad for you to not want them in your house. Most of them just have irritating habits, like clearing their throats on every other word or laughing too loudly at their own bad jokes. There’s only one or two you really don’t like – they pick on your clothes and the way you do your hair, or steal tea bags from the secret stash you keep in your filing cabinet. Both of them are here, and their presence puts you in an even worse mood than you already were.

The only person you’d actually hang out with after work is Mr. Yagi, but he’s your direct supervisor and also sort of old, which means you can’t be friends with him. He’s here, too, and he seems like he’s trying to rein everybody in. You see him stop one of your coworkers from hopping the baby gate and going upstairs and give him a grateful look. He smiles back. Then he startles, coughs into his handkerchief, and stumbles back against the wall.

You start towards him, concerned, but midway there someone slings an arm around your shoulders and stops you in your tracks. “Honey,” Nakayama slurs, flopping most of her weight onto you, “your house’s vibes are fuck awful.”

You didn’t provide alcohol, but it looks like your coworkers brought their own. You shrug her arm off. “Wow. I’m so glad I asked your opinion when I asked you to come over.”

“You didn’t ask,” Nakayama says, confused. You raise your eyebrows, waiting for the penny to drop. It doesn’t drop. Instead a full-body shiver overtakes her, and she wraps her arms around herself like she’s shielding her body from something or trying to keep warm. “Don’t you feel that? It’s – male – male-eh –”

She thinks your ghost is a man. You’re not even sure your ghost is a ghost. “Malevolent,” she says finally. Oh. “It doesn’t want me here.”

“Maybe that’s because I don’t want you here,” you say, and Nakayama laughs. She thinks you’re joking. Mr. Yagi, who’s snuck up alongside you, knows you aren’t. “If the vibes in here are so bad, go check out the back porch. I fixed the hole in the fence, so there shouldn’t be any more coyotes.”

“Coyotes?” Mr. Yagi asks worriedly as Nakayama wanders off through the house. “Is that how Phantom was hurt?”

“Yeah.” You were worried the incident would put Phantom off the backyard, but she loves it just as much as ever. You have a feeling that’s got something to do with the thing in the house. “Like I said, I fixed the hole. What do you think of the house?”

You haven’t asked that question of anybody else, but Mr. Yagi’s opinion is one you’re interested in. “It’s quite – nice,” he says. “Very – lively.”

The pauses in his speech make you wonder if he’s holding in a coughing fit. He has some kind of lung illness. You’re not sure what it is. “Are you okay?”

“Your house.” Mr. Yagi coughs. “I can see why you purchased it. I can see that you feel comfortable and at home here. And at the same time, I understand Miss Nakayama’s use of the word “malevolent”. Something does not want us here.”

“Maybe it’s just me. I didn’t exactly invite people over.”

“I’m very familiar with your demeanor when dealing with a situation you don’t like,” Mr. Yagi says, and chuckles. He sobers up a few seconds later. “This darkness is orders beyond what you could emit. I don’t know how you live with it. It could drive a person mad.”

If this was somebody else, you’d gaslight the hell out of them. But you like Mr. Yagi, and liking him makes you honest. “I talked to people who’ve owned this place before. They said they felt like you do, or like they’re being watched. But I’ve never felt like that here. Watched over, maybe.”

“Watched over?”

You can’t tell him about the coyote. You just – can’t. “Maybe I’m imagining it and I just like the quiet. I believe you about the vibes. I just don’t feel them.”

“I see,” Mr. Yagi says. He looks troubled. You don’t want him to look like that. You don’t want to be worried about this. “Perhaps it’s just an old man’s musings, my dear. You have a lovely home. You should enjoy it.”

There’s a shriek from outside, and you barely manage to mumble an apology to Mr. Yagi before running to investigate. One of your coworkers is freaking out on the back porch, and frantically stubbing out a cigarette in the bargain. You’ve been patient, but the sight of the cigarette pushes you over the edge. “I thought I told you not to smoke here!”

“There was a thing!” Todoroki gestures frantically towards the other end of the porch. “I saw it. Right there. In the smoke –”

“Use your words,” you say. Something’s uncurling in the pit of your stomach, something you’re not all that eager to put a name on. “What did you see in the smoke of the cigarette you weren’t supposed to light up on my back porch?”

“A hand,” Todoroki says. “I saw a hand reaching for me.”

“Maybe it’s your guilty conscience,” you say. Todoroki is close enough that you can smell alcohol mixed in with the smoke on his breath. “Coming after you for inviting yourself to my house and breaking my rules.”

“Your rules are a little strict.” Nakayama slings her arm around your shoulders again. “Don’t you think?”

“No,” you say, sharper than you should be. “I think you don’t know how to listen!”

“Easy there.” Mr. Yagi slides into the conversation sideways. “Todoroki, our hostess did request no smoking. Very politely. And Nakayama, I’m sure you know that hosting an event can be stressful! Let’s go inside and give our hostess a moment to herself, all right?”

Mr. Yagi is hard to say no to, and Todoroki is eager to get off the porch anyway. Nakayama follows him in, and then you’re alone, seething with an emotion you’re finally forced to name: Jealousy. “Come on,” you say out loud, once you’re sure no one else could possibly be listening. “Of all the people you could show yourself to, you picked him?”

There’s no answer, of course. There never is, and after a while, you’ve got no choice but to go back inside and deal with all your mostly-unwanted guests. The bad vibes are infecting the rest of the party, and Todoroki isn’t being shy about whatever he thinks he saw on the porch. Pretty soon everyone is ready to leave. You think Mr. Yagi will be out the door along with everybody else at high speed, but instead he gathers everybody just inside the door for a group picture. “To commemorate the evening,” he says, but you get the sense he’s not telling the truth. Not all of it, anyway. “Everyone smile!”

Everybody smiles, you included – and then everybody scatters, including a few who are probably too tipsy to be driving. You chase after them, make sure everybody who’s drunk is riding home rather than driving themselves, and slink back inside, tired and frustrated. Your house is messier than you like it, your boss thinks you’re living in some kind of hell dimension, and the thing in your house showed itself to one of your dumbass coworkers and not to you. This evening has sucked.

Your phone pings with a message from Mr. Yagi. He’s texted you the photo he took of the group without comment, and when you see it, you see instantly why he wanted a picture in the first place. There are your coworkers, smiling with varying degrees of discomfort. There’s you, smiling because you’ll have the house to yourself again soon. And there’s the shapeless shadow, defying the light beaming directly onto it, hovering just over your shoulder.

There’s something in your house. You know that now for sure. It shows up as a shadow in pictures, but Todoroki saw it as a hand. Other people feel very differently about it than you do – or it makes them feel differently about it than you do. That’s the only explanation you can think of for why every person who’s set foot in the house has had a borderline allergic reaction to it, except you. There’s nothing special about you. For whatever reason, the thing in the house hates you less than it hates everybody else. Why? And why, if it hates you less than everybody else, did it show itself to Todoroki instead of you?

You’ve been thinking about it for a week. You’re thinking about it so hard that you’ve fucked up installing your front porch swing twice, and so hard that you don’t hear a kid calling out to you from the sidewalk. “Hey! Hey, you! Are you the new neighbor?”

The question snaps you out of your fog. You look up and find a girl who looks like she’s about twelve hovering at the end of the path leading up to your door, taking tentative steps over and then pulling her foot back. She’s holding a foil-covered plate in her hands. Behind her there’s an older guy, maybe in his late teens or early twenties. You’re older than him, but not by much. “Hi,” he says awkwardly. “I told Himiko not to shout. But shouting is so fun!”

His demeanor shifted completely between the first sentence and the second. “You’re Himiko,” you say to the girl, and she grins. Even from this distance, you can see that her teeth are oddly sharp. You turn to the older guy. “And you are?”

“This is my big brother Jin!” Himiko gives him a glowing look, then turns her attention back to you. “Now you tell me your name! That’s what people do!”

“It sure is,” you say, bewildered, and you make your introduction. Then you feel weird shouting at them from the porch, so you make your way down to the edge of the yard, still holding a screwdriver. “So you all are my neighbors?”

“Yes! The pink house just that way!” Himiko points it out. “We live there with Jin’s mom and his brothers and sisters!”

“Sorry it took us so long to introduce ourselves,” Jin says. Then that demeanor switch happens again. “We didn’t want to grace you with our presence until we were sure you wouldn’t cut and run!”

“Everybody leaves,” Himiko says, swinging on your front gate. “We made you cookies to say hi!”

“They’re the best cookies in the world,” Jin says, and Himiko sneaks in past the gate. “Don’t eat them. She still doesn’t know how taste buds work.”

That might be the weirdest thing they’ve said to you so far. “Oh.”

“Himiko, come back,” Jin calls, looking past you. “They didn’t invite us in.”

“I know! But – ooh.” Himiko breaks off midsentence with a shiver. Not the same kind of shiver as you saw from Nakayama when she was here, like it’s too cold – the kind you’d do if a spider walked across the back of your neck. “I just want to meet you! Jeez, calm down!”

“I’m calm,” you say.

“She doesn’t mean you,” Jin says, and a chill runs down your spine. “Himiko, come back!”

Himiko skips down the path back to the gate and steps through. “You should come visit us at our house,” she announces. “He doesn’t want us here.”

He. “What do you mean?”

“He doesn’t like to share,” Himiko says. She laughs, high and almost shrill. “I don’t need more people. I have as many people as I want! I have Jin and Jin’s mom and Jin’s sister and Jin’s brother –”

She’s not talking to you. She’s looking back at the house. “Who’s he?” you ask, and she smiles at you. “I’m not joking. I really want to know.”

“You know,” Himiko says. “Or you will, anyway. You’re his.”

“Excuse me?” Something inside you rebels at the thought. “It’s my house.”

“Yeah,” Jin agrees. Finally – a voice of reason. Or not, because what he says next makes everything worse. “You wouldn’t have kept it if he hadn’t let you.”

Himiko nods importantly, still smiling. Then she looks at you, and – “Um, did you just –”

“Just what?” Himiko asks, but you shake your head. There’s no way you saw what you think you saw. There’s no way her pupils closed vertically, almost disappearing, and opened again – like a blink, but not a blink, because eyes aren’t supposed to do that. “Come visit us, then! Everybody in the neighborhood wants to meet you!”

She pushes the plate of cookies into your hands and goes skipping off down the sidewalk. Jin gives an apologetic shrug, followed by a hyperenthusiastic wave goodbye, and follows her, leaving you standing just inside your front gate with a plate of cookies you’re now eighty percent sure are poisoned and even less of an idea about what’s going on than you had before. You decide, with a skill at compartmentalization that you’ve been honing since you moved in, to table it until you’ve set up your porch swing.

But after the swing’s up, you’re hungry. So hungry, in fact, that you pry up the foil on the plate and take a look at the cookies Jin and Himiko brought over. They look suspect. So suspect that you wouldn’t risk eating them unless you were starving, and even then you might try chewing off your own arm first. It’s too bad. You really could have gone for a cookie right about now.

But you’re an adult, and you have your own house, and a decent amount of ingredients in your pantry. Maybe cookies aren’t as out of reach as you thought they were.

One quick shower later, you’re in the kitchen, measuring out ingredients for your favorite cookie recipe. Back in the day you’d play music, or call somebody. Now you either talk to Phantom, talk to the thing in the house, or both. But Phantom is napping on the tiles on the front hall – her favorite spot on hot days, even though you have air conditioning and you like to use it. That’s a good thing. You and the thing in your house need to have a talk.

“You’ve got an attitude problem, huh?” Your opening lines with the thing in your house are never as polite as they probably should be. “I’m fine with you scaring my coworkers. I’m pretty sure I thanked you for that one. But those were my neighbors. I have to live with them. Or near them. And they seemed – nice.”

It gets quiet after that. Sometimes you can use the silence to convince yourself that the ghost is answering, just not in a way you’re able to hear. Sometimes you even imagine what the ghost is saying. Today is one of those days. “Okay, fine. They were weird. I still have to live with them.” But you have to live with the ghost, too, and the ghost apparently has some weird ideas about what’s going on here. “And while we’re talking about it, what’s this possessive shit? You think you own me? You’ve talked more to my twelve-year-old neighbor than you have to me, so you’ve got a lot of nerve talking about me like I belong to you.”

You’ve got no idea what the ghost would say in response to that, and you have to get out your dry ingredients. You head to the pantry and dig out what’s left of your flour, noting that you’ve got a new bag waiting, and go back to the counter. Except something happens to you midway there. You step into a cold spot, colder than anything you’ve ever felt in your life, and your hands go nerveless and numb like you’ve been flash-frozen. The bag of flour drops from your hands and splits open on the floor, letting up a puff of flour that climbs high into the air like a mushroom cloud. Higher than it should. But that’s not what you’re looking at. You’re looking at the two clean spots on the flour-coated floor, directly in front of you. Two clean spots in the shape of a pair of feet.

They’re not children’s footprints. Whatever’s in your house isn’t a child like Himiko – it’s an adult, like you, and it’s standing really close to you. Your eyes are drawn almost inexorably upwards through the already-dissipating cloud of flour. You’re looking too late. You almost miss it. But before the flour falls completely back to the floor, you see the outline of a torso, the slope of a shoulder. The length of an arm. And the shape of one hand, thumb and forefinger poised to flick against your forehead.

You react before you can think about it. “What are you, twelve?” You wave your hand through the air, trying to dissipate the rest of the cloud, resolutely ignoring the way you obliterate the shoulder, the torso. “Learn some manners.”

The cloud vanishes, and the figure with it. You could almost believe it had never happened at all, except for the pair of clean footprints on your otherwise flour-covered floor.

"you are corrupt, false idol. your corruption has no doubt spread."

to which kori goes NUH UH

say you need me.

Tomura Shigaraki x f!reader

rating: explicit. 18+ only. length: 3,248 content: porn with plot, definitely not a depiction of a healthy relationship, jealous/possessive behavior, smut [rough, fingering - receiving, oral - giving, unprotected p in v], kink(s) [collars, spit, choking, degradation, biting, size, breeding], fluff summary: you hadn't been trying to make him jealous, yet the result is just the same.

“Look at you…”

If anyone overheard the sentence he uttered behind closed doors, they’d only hear the reverent tone behind his words – they wouldn’t see his rough thumb rub under your chin, spreading the spit that had run down it. Temporarily fooled by his masquerade of gentleness a harsh thrust forward from his hips caught you off guard, choking in a way you normally didn’t when his thick shaft pushed into your throat.

“Such a dumb little cockwhore.”

Warm tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and you blinked hard, allowing your burning eyes the momentary reprieve. His thumb then reached to catch one of the spilled tears, tsking his tongue against his teeth in disapproval.

“Look at me,” he reminded, slipping his hand to the back of your head to hold your position, his cock resting heavily on your tongue as he awaited your attention again. Your heavy eyelids fluttered open and sought out his red gaze again, your own hazy eyes displaying how nearly half an hour with his cock in your mouth was affecting you. “Oh, don’t you even think about looking away from me…”

You hummed around his shaft to communicate you understood, eyes staying on his as he slipped bit by bit of his cock back into your mouth, his fingers gripping your hair increasingly harsh the closer he neared your throat. An appreciative groan slipped through his lips as your bruised throat swallowed him again, your willingness to please him silencing the parts of your brain begging for more air. 

As he continued to use your mouth his pace only increased, his eyes never leaving your face to watch the mess he was making – tears still streamed down your cheeks and there was so much drool a wet spot had formed on your shirt, and you didn’t dare blink until he did now. He hated being angry with you, but he’d never miss the opportunity to punish you accordingly.

“That’s…ah…that’s better,” his voice was a low rumble as he spoke, his fingers threading through your hair just slightly gentler as he halted his thrusts, holding your head in place again while his other hand slipped to your neck. As he pulled his cock from your mouth slowly to allow you a much needed breath, his fingers lightly traced the metal of a collar he’d placed on you long ago now before one looped into the hoop on it, tugging you upward lightly. 

Despite your breathless dizziness you were eager to comply with him, hopeful that you had given him enough to earn reprieve for the growing pressure at your core. As soon as you were able you steadied yourself with your hands against his chest, your head instinctually craning upward toward his face while you awaited a kiss. 

That pulled a smile from him – the smile he seldom gave you that reminded you more of a predator than a person feeling joy – and he shook his head firmly as he continued to hold you close by the loop on your neck. His free hand slipped to hold your waist in a bruising grasp and he lowered his head, his lips hovering above yours in a further display of control. 

“You’re so desperate for me,” you could feel the quiet purr behind his words rumbling through his chest and into your hands, and he gave the ring another tug, pulling you close enough to barely feel the brush of your lips against his. “What’s this pretty collar around your neck say?”

“‘Tomura’s Toy,’” you were whining for him now, your voice needy and desperate in ways you didn’t recognize, standing on your toes in an effort to get any amount closer to him that he’d allow. But with every inch you grew nearer he retreated, his teasing smile mirroring the mischief in his eyes. “‘Cause ‘m yours, Tomura.”

“Mm…” the quiet, contemplative hum carried a depth of meaning, his hand once again slipping to grasp your throat lightly as he held you close. “It looked to me like you’d forgotten.”

“Never,” you were using a perfectly docile and honey sweet tone that you knew he so often reveled in. His fingers lightly stroked your neck, not quite angry enough to ignore the softness beneath his fingers, too addicted to the way your skin felt against his to deny himself the pleasure. “I’m yours, Tomura. ’m always yours.”

“I know you are, kitten. But I think you need a bigger reminder. Don’t you?”

“I need whatever you think I need, Tomura.”

“That’s more like it,” he cooed, his tone just barely faltering into something much more peaceful with you. He sounded sweeter, but to you there was no questioning the quiet rage that boiled beneath the surface still.“Open up.”

He couldn’t help but release a quiet laugh at how quickly your mouth fell open at his instruction, one of his fingers moving upward to trace your bottom lip lightly before he leaned forward to spit in your mouth, enjoying the sight on your tongue for a moment before he tapped his finger against your chin to silently give your next direction. You swallowed greedily, enjoying the flashes of adoration and need in his darkened eyes as you hummed in quiet approval.

“Such a dirty girl for me.”

He removed himself from you and sat on the bed that had grown much more comfortable since you had made your way into it, leaning back against the wall to calculate his next movement. You whined at the loss of him – your swollen bottom lip pushing out in a quiet pout, inviting him to bite into it again. Pulling his own shirt over his head he tossed it to the side, holding up a hand to motion for you to stop when you moved to climb into the bed.

“Clothes off first.”

It may have been the fastest your clothes had ever been torn from yourself and yet in your mind it felt like an eternity, his eyes watching you intently as you peeled away each layer until you were left bare to him again. He kept his hand raised to communicate he wanted you to continue your stillness, eyes taking in the full length of your body several times over.

“In my lap, pet.”

You were overjoyed to finally be granted skin-to-skin contact again, appreciative when your soaked core connected with his thigh, the pressure and warmth immediately pulling a moan from your lips. 

“I missed you,” you cooed, leaning forward to connect your lips to his neck, something that still took him by surprise when you did it. A quiet groan slipped through his lips and his head fell back to grant you further access, one of his hands desperately clinging to your hip. He encouraged you to rock your hips, your slickness spreading along his thigh as you complied. 

His free hand slid to cup your breast, squeezing roughly before he changed his mind, abandoning your chest to slip his hand further. He connected a finger to your clit as you licked up the side of his neck, moaning his name into his ear as he gave the sensitive bud a pinch. Desperate for more, you bit at his neck lightly, paying mind to the more sensitive areas with a gentle swipe of your tongue. 

“I want to hear you,” he growled as he slipped his middle finger into your soaked entrance, needy to hear more from you than he was getting and intent on making sure anyone still lingering heard as well. You cried out in pleasure at the sudden intrusion, lazily lifting your head from where you had it buried in his neck to press a wet kiss to his jaw, then his cheek, and finally his lips as you fucked yourself onto his finger slowly.

“I need you,” your vowels were dragged out and voice breathless and low as you spoke against his lips, the end turned to a soft whine as his index finger joined the middle. He swirled them slowly, the same smug smile once again brightening his features as your mouth fell open in pleasure. He took advantage of your parted lips to lean forward and sink his teeth into your bottom lip, blood coming just beneath the surface after the use your mouth had gotten today.

“Louder.”

“I need you, Tomura,” you whimpered your response against his lips, muffling the end of his name with your starved kiss. You dragged your core against his thigh again, the friction against your clit with his fingers inside you causing your thighs to clench around his tighter. 

He kissed you heavily, his tongue claiming your mouth immediately and greedily tasting every inch as he pistoned his fingers into your dripping sex. Despite your clouded mind you reached beside you to wrap your hand around his throbbing cock, stroking his length just how you knew he liked it.

When it was obvious you needed a breath he released your mouth, lowering his own head to claim one of your nipples in his mouth, his tongue swirling the nub slowly before he began to suck. With your free hand you ran your fingers through his hair, holding him close to your chest as he worshiped your breasts, the only place he was uncharacteristically gentle with you. 

It wasn’t an absolute, though, and he reminded you of that as he turned his head to sink his teeth into the plush of your breast, the growl in his chest bordering on feral as you yelled out his name. When he was certain the mark would be purple he leaned back, running his tongue along the indents before kissing across to your other breast.

“You can be louder than that.”

His teeth claimed an area on your unmarked breast as he curled his fingers against the perfect spot inside you, and your vision went white as an orgasm ripped through you, his voice leaving your mouth so loudly you heard someone opt to leave in the distance. He continued to stroke your velvet walls as he licked at the newest mark, hips bucking upward to meet your hand and now more desperate than ever to be inside you.

It wasn’t like him to give you a moment to breathe after an orgasm, and tonight was certainly no different.

“Come here,” he urged, kissing up the front of your neck to your chin as he removed his fingers from you, reaching to grasp both of your hips. You released your hold on his cock and looked at him with pupil blown eyes, your breaths coming through your nose ragged. He may have been reducing you to being incapable of speech, but it was obvious you were hanging on to his every word, exactly how he wanted you to be forever. With a tug at your waist he encouraged you fully into his lap, licking his lips in anticipation of the feeling to come. “‘m gonna fuck you.”

“Please,” you whimpered, too cock dumb already to form a proper sentence or add anything meaningful as far as conversation went. He loved when you were this way, eyes wide as you stared at him expectantly, waiting for any word he could give that would allow you to make him happy. 

He loved the power he had over you, and that meant he loved the ability to make you panic over the thought of losing him…especially now, when you were waiting for him to fuck you into exhaustion. Still, it was impossible for him to resist.

“I should make you fuckin’ beg for it. Should make you get back on your knees and beg for my cock.”

“I will, sir, I –”

He’d honestly expected a whine in response, and hearing your willingness to beg if that is what he asked made his heart clench, that seldom found fulfilled feeling fueling every fiber of his being. One of his hands remained on your hip as he leaned forward to kiss your lips softly for the first time today, the other coming to the back of your head where he once again tangled his fingers into your hair.

“I know you will, now you’re back to being my good little slut.”

He grasped your hip harder and slammed you downward onto his awaiting cock, dependent entirely on your own arousal to be the proper amount of lubricant. A series of moans, cries and his name fell from your lips as he pulled each inch of his cock back out before slamming in to the hilt again. 

“Mmph, s’tight,” he growled out, leaning his head forward until his forehead connected with yours. With his eyes screwed shut in focus and intoxication at the feeling of your tight cunt welcoming him back he didn’t anticipate the gentle kiss you’d press to the corner of his mouth. He turned his head barely to claim your lips again as he opted for a brutal pace, thrusting his cock into you faster and harder each time. His hold on you tightened, his fingers pulling your hair firmly as he leaned to lick above your pulse point before muttering. “Mine.”

“Yours, Tomura.”

Was it ever going to be enough? It didn’t matter. You’d never tire of trying.

“Again,” he pleaded, his voice filled with an unhinged desperation reserved entirely for you. As he spoke his lips moved against your neck and he released his hold on your hip, the momentary loss quickly remedied as he connected his thumb to your clit and began rubbing circles to match his thrusts. “More. Need…more.”

“Yours,” the word was barely there through panted breaths, your hands coming to support yourself with a tight hold on his shoulders. Your fingernails dug into his shoulders and he responded with instinct, his teeth once again sinking into a very public place on your neck, intent on marking you in any way he could to get his point across. “Yours…yours…fuck…yours a thousand times.”

He growled against your skin as his pace became impossibly faster, his thrusts into you rough and relentless and undoubtedly causing your hips and thighs to bruise. If you couldn’t walk tomorrow, so be it – he preferred when you didn’t leave his room and he could keep you all to himself, and he didn’t need you to be able to walk to be able to use your holes. 

Neither of you were destined to last forever at a pace like this, but with his perfectly positioned thrusts with the head of his cock intentionally rubbing behind your clit and perfectly timed flicks to your clit, it wasn’t a surprise your thighs started shaking first. 

You tried to tell him it was coming, instead the only sounds that left your mouth were high pitched moans and cries until you screamed his name, throwing your head back in ecstasy as you dragged your fingernails down his back – you’d likely drawn blood, and he’d thank you for it later. For now he held off his own release to fully feel yours – to memorize how your walls clenched and fluttered around his cock, how it felt like your sex squeezed him tighter so he couldn’t pull out. 

When he’d indulged himself in your release enough a high groan of his own erupted from his chest, tilting your head forward to kiss you again sloppily as his own release ripped through him. Hot ropes of his seed painted your walls and pulled another moan from you, your mouth continuing to move against his in a blissed-out kiss until he’d emptied himself in you.

He was still unhappy, but he was satiated. He proved that fact by immediately situating both of you into a comfortable lying position with you on your back and him on his side next to you, eyes not leaving your freshly fucked hole, transfixed on watching his spend drip from you and being able to push it back into you slowly. He didn’t want children, but the thought of you pregnant with his child and the message it would deliver to everyone who saw you was enticing.

When he was content with the number of times he’d repeated this motion with you he leaned forward, kissing up what seemed like the most sensitive parts of your body until he reached your lips again.

“Don’t repeat your behavior from today, little one.”

The warning carried more weight than he needed to specify.

“Yes, Shiggy,” you breathed out, rubbing the tip of your nose against his in one of your adorable signs of affection, pulling a deep exhale from his nose – not quite a genuine laugh, but close enough for him. 

“Dabi serves his purpose well, and the loss would be…significant,” he continued quietly, one of his hands coming to rest against your cheek where his thumb brushed the flushed skin there. His eyes, though they were much more relaxed than they were hours ago, were still intense and full of a darkness that promised to destroy worlds if this was a problem again. “But I will kill him if you give me a reason to. I’d prefer you not to put it to the test.”

You hated disappointing him, and while you held no desire to argue with him further, you had to ensure he knew that it hadn’t been your intent to make him jealous.

“But I only…”

“Ah ah ah…” 

He silenced you with a heavy kiss that did nothing to indicate how much he’d had of you already, the hunger behind his movements unfaltering. As you were focused on his kiss you were taken by surprise by his hand raising your thigh around his waist, his cock pushing into your velvet walls again. Your hips thrust to meet him but his hand stopped your movements, holding you tightly and still, losing himself temporarily in the feeling of your overstimulated pussy clenching around him tightly.

“No more arguing, sweet pet. You’ve already been taught your lesson. Isn’t that right?”

This was softness with him. He was done being angry, and his normal insistence to fight and remain in his sour mood had once again melted away for you, revealing the deepest parts of him that never left this room. He was choosing to put the one emotion he understood, the feeling he could always hide behind, aside because he much preferred moments of tranquility with you than moments of turmoil. 

If you ruined a moment like this, you would never forgive yourself.

“Yes, Tomura. I’m sorry.”

“I know you are,” he cooed, nipping at your bottom lip again to elicit another quiet cry from your lips. “Tell me again.”

Not an apology…no. He needed something much deeper now, in the darkness of his bedroom where no one else was around to see his vulnerability. You’d been saying it all night, but the way you had made him feel today lingered too much to allow him to truly believe it. You’d have to try again tomorrow, and even still you would probably be feeling his wrath resurfacing for days to come.

“I’m yours always,” you whispered quietly, honestly, the words settling into his mind for the night to aid him in a decent sleep. As you buried your face in his neck his arms circled around your waist again, the two of you clinging to one another with his cock still buried inside you. “You’re all I need.”

The sentiment was shared in his heart despite the fact the words went unrepeated.

masterlist.

▸ likes & comments are appreciated, but please reblog to help share my work!

After that red-eyed Sun thing like... c'mon... we were all thinkin it

He talks a lotta shit for a guy within KISSING distance 😏

Reblogs greatly appreciated!

Omg yes ! I went to a farm a little while ago and they had a cute little bunny with a gray/blueish color, he was so damn cute ! But he was scared of many human. I, on my side am scared of rabbit (😅)

So the only one i was comfortable enought to touch was him but i could see that he was a little scared so i was barely touching him and after some time with only two little pat in that meantime, the little baby come litteraly to me 😭🥹✋💗💗💗

And now that i saw this image i can't stop thinking that he's like this Tomura bunny 😂🫶

OvO he's almost blue in the light and here how he is in a darker light, at that moment he was still scared so he was "hiding" (not the best place to hide buddy)

bunny Tomura and sea urchin Dabi.

Smut headcanons for my babygirls [Dabi & Shigaraki]

(PLEASE IGNORE THE TITLE–)

TW: Mentions of captivity, noncon, degrading

Reader has gender neutral pronouns with afab body

Toya Todoroki Dabi

-Alright, so Dabi sure does like his piercings, doesn't he? Ear piercings, nose piercings, I guess the surgical staples might count as piercings? You get what I'm trying to say. Anyway Dabi most certainly has a Jacob's ladder. Do with that what you will.

-He may or may not force you to get your tits pierced. He'll do it himself.

-I think he would be around 6 inches exactly, and he doesn't shave. He doesn't care about his hair being white down there, you ain't gonna tell nobody.

-He especially loves your thighs. Nibbling on the flesh, licking his way up until he reaches your cunt. Maybe some light burn marks, if you beg him. He loves it when you beg.

-Caress his scars during sex and he will melt.

-Sex drive is low. Surprising, right? He's a flirty scumbag but most of the time it's just to get a reaction outta you. He just wants cuddles. He's a big softie.

-Most of the time.

-I mean what do you expect? For him to burn and rape you every day? Hell no! My boy needs affection. You're the only person for him, and he will cherish you. His family didn't love him, so he gets that love from you.

-Now, while we're mentioning rape... Dabi isn't against that. He prefers it consensual but he won't hesitate if he's hot 'n bothered.

-No he does not use sex as a punishment.

-The pace differs if it's consensual or not. He'll be rough if you agree to it, it's what you signed up for. But if he's nonconning you, it will be the softest noncon. He'll have you ride him, hands on your hips as he so gently thrusts up into your wet pussy. Praise, praise, praise. He's so gentle.

-Now his aftercare is a little lazy. Grabs a cigarette from the pack on his desk, taking a long drag from it, and pulls you down with him so you can lay on his bare chest.

-Dabi's a villain but he doesn't want you to fear him. Until you try to run away, but that's a story for a different time.

"Hush, baby, shh. I'm not gonna hurt you, I'm just making you feel good, my flame. You'll thank me later. Please just enjoy it."

Tenko Shimura Tomura Shigaraki

-Shigaraki doesn't have any piercings, unlike Dabi. But you know what he does have? A collar and leash. He'll strap that pretty pink collar around your neck, and yank on the leash when you don't give him exactly what he wants.

-He's a tits man. He doesn't care how big they are, how small they are, he likes sucking on them. And biting them. And groping them. He likes tits.

-Shigaraki went through several body modifications while he was going through his procedure in season six, didn't he? Well along with his muscles, his dick also grew a bit in size, going from 5.7 inches to 6.3 inches. It's gonna take some time to get used to, but don't worry, he'll teach you how to take it.

-His hair down there changes colour along with the hair on his head. You know because he doesn't shave, either. He honestly can't be fucked doing it. Lazy ass.

-High sex drive. Very high sex drive. You can't blame him, man has probably never seen pussy irl. Very horny.

-Now... Similarly to Dabi, Shigaraki loves and craves your affection. Unfortunately though, Shigaraki is a lot more sadistic than Dabi.

-Which means yes, he will also rape you. But not gently like Dabi. He's rough, aggressive, dominant, he'll tie you down if he has to. He doesn't ask for consent either. He'll just get on top of you and decay your clothes, and you'll know exactly what's about to happen to you the moment you notice the bulge in his jeans.

-Sex is also used for punishments, though it's mainly used for more severe rule breaking, like attempting to call the police.

-He's very degrading. He likes to call you a variety of names, including slut, whore, pet, cumslave, etc etc.

-Dacryphilia fetish.

-But don't worry, it's not all bad. See, if you've read my previous works (mainly on Wattpad), you'll know that Shigaraki gets more sweet when you comply with his demands. Even if it takes months, years, to get used to his rules, he'll reward you if you're a good captive.

-Likewise, his aftercare is very good. Almost as if he wants to make up for the assault with affection. He'll get you a nice, cold glass of fresh water, and once you finish that, he'll carry you to the bathroom and bathe you. Then the rest of the night is spent in his embrace, and he always stays up for hours after you fall asleep. Just gently caressing and kissing your hair.

-He's sadistic and twisted but he still cares about you.

"Awh, are you crying? Don't like what I'm doing to you? Too fucking bad. I own every inch of your body, so scream for me bitch."

Author's Note: That feeling you get when you put lots of effort into a post but turns out it's really short :(

Who want to sit on his laps ? 😩✋🥵

Toys (NSFW)

Tomura Shigaraki x AFAB Reader

Tags: PiV, Use of Vibrator, Overstimulation, Squirting, Unprotected Sex, Pre-Established Relationship, Slight Dacryphilia

WC: 1.5k

"C’mon…don’t cry…let’s do it again…”

Sex with Tomura is amazing. Truly, it really is! Although he can be very rough in bed, he’ll always make sure your comfortable and enjoying yourself. If you ask him to change positions, he’ll always shuffle around just for you, even if he’s grumbling under his breath about how needy you are.

He’s an amazing partner in bed. Really…it’s just that…

More than half the time, he can never make you cum during sex.

That doesn’t mean the sex isn't good! No, of course not! It’s amazing! His cock curves so sweetly into your hot cunny, rubbing up into that squishy spot just a few inches deep inside you. And he loves to pound into you like his life depends on it, his heavy balls slapping against your ass / clit depending on your position, and his fingers so tenderly rub against your aching clit, causing your sweet little pussy to clench around him…

But it’s never enough

In the end, once he finishes, he’d have to use his long slender fingers to plunge inside you, desperately finger fucking you into oblivion until you cum. He doesn’t care if you cry and sob against his fingers, begging ‘Please! No more! ‘s too much!’  with your sweet little voice, he’s determined to make you cum.

Whenever you fail to cum during sex, he always seems so grumpy. So mad and upset at himself for failing you. It’s gotten so bad that he’d even end up scratching at his poor neck until it bleeds, beating himself up for disappointing you. All of this makes your heart ache, and eventually, you bring up the prospect of using toys during the bedroom.

When you first bring this up, he stays silent during the conversation, his mind whirring with different thoughts.

Were you seriously thinking of replacing him for some silicone dick? Was he not enough? Were you that unhappy with your sex lives? Would you break up with him? How fucking dare you try and replace him?! He was going to fucking kill-

Before his thoughts delved deeper into hatred and despair you quickly explained to him that no, this wasn’t a way to replace him, and that you were happy with your sex life. The conversation lasted a long time, the both of you sharing your opinions and thoughts on the matter.

Tomura was blunt about his thoughts on the matter. He refused to let you bring any dildo’s or toys that would require any sort of insertion into the bedroom. No, that was his job, only he belonged deep inside your weeping cunt, not some plastic toy.

He also didn’t want any toys to be used on him either. He was already upset about bringing in toys to begin with, so even bringing up using toys on him would cause him to start scratching his neck.

Eventually, the both of you reached a conclusion. You’d go out together, and buy whatever toy would suit his merit and your needs. 

When the day finally came to go shopping, you were absolutely buzzing with excitement! Not only would you be able to go shopping for something for your sex lives, but also you’d be able to spend time and help Tomura understand your needs.

Entering the sex shop hand in hand, you dragged Tomura towards the first few toys you saw, holding them up and explaining their function to him. At first, he didn’t really pay attention, his eyes darting throughout the store, his body stiff and his hands constantly coming up to tug the black hoodie further down his face.

You weren’t too sure if he was embarrassed, or maybe paranoid of being recognized, but eventually he managed to calm down enough to actually help you browse throughout the store. He scowled at every dildo or phallic item you passed, and he even spent a few seconds gazing at the wall of monster dildos in the corner.

For a moment, he imagined you struggling to take such a monstrous cock, and how your pretty little cunny would squelch and cry at such a big size. But he quickly pushed those thoughts away.

Eventually, after spending around an hour or so of browsing, you both decided on what you thought was the most basic purchase, yet best item you could have gotten. A hitachi wand.

As you two warped back, you spent the first few hours unpacking and letting the wand charge completely. Once it was finished, you took it back to Tomura’s room, holding it up like a prized possession as you spoke.

“Let’s try it out now!”

As you laid on your back, your legs spread wide as Tomura stood between them, his cock sliding between your puffy folds. Your slick mixed with his pre, your body buzzing with lust and excitement. Tomura grabbed the base of his cock, slowly sliding it down your slit until the tip of his cock nudged your eager hole.

You sighed in relief as he slowly pushed in, the head of his cock sliding in with a small squelch as you reached over the bed to grab the vibrator. You could see his lips twitch into a small frown, but he didn’t comment on your actions as he bottomed out.

Once you felt the familiar slide of his cock moving inside you, you turned on the vibrator, the buzzing noise causing his hips to stutter as he pulled back far enough to watch you place the bulbous head against your clit.

Instantly, a breathy curse escaped your lips, eyes fluttering shut as your hips bucked up in response to the intense vibrations against your needy bud. You could hear Tomura whimper from above you, his hips beginning to move as he spoke.

“Oh fuck…I-I can feel it even when i’m inside you…”

From above, Tomura felt chills of pleasure run down his spine. Everytime he moved, he could feel his cock buzzing from the pleasure, and everytime he pulled out far enough, the force of the vibrations would go straight to his tip. He groaned, his cock twitching as he moved faster, your slick causing his light blue pubes to stick together, a small string connecting the both of your bodies every time he moved away.

You could feel your pussy begin to drool, your tits bouncing with every hard thrust of his hips. His grunts became louder from above you, his hands coming up to grip at your thighs, the plush flesh pooling out of his fingers as he rammed himself deeper into you.

“Fuck…you feel so fuckin’ good…hah…so tight, you gonna cum already?”

You didn’t even notice the way your cunt so desperately clung to his cock, the coil in your stomach forming so quickly you could only babble a whiny ‘yes’ as you pressed the vibrating head even harder against your clit.

Your throat burned as you screamed out in pleasure, your orgasm ripping through you in multiple waves, both the vibrator and his cock drawing it out until you were nearly crying. You pulled the vibrator away from your overstimulated clit, gasping out as he grasped your wrist and forced the toy back against your nub.

You yelped, a searing pain that felt way too good suddenly coursing through you, your body squirming under him as you sobbed in response to his actions.

“No! Aagh! Tom-Tomura! W-wait wait wait! It's too much!”

He giggled from above you, a breathy moan escaping him as his hand pressed the toy against you even harder as he spoke in a dark tone, his hips stuttering against your pulsing cunny.

“Fuckk…feels so good baby…I can feel the vibrator against my cock-shit! Oh god…mhn…just a bit more..!”

You couldn’t stop the tears from falling from your face, your clit burning from overstimulation and pain. It felt so painful but with every second the vibrator was held firm on your clit the more you could feel another tight coil forming, ready to burst once again.

But this one was different.

Your legs began to tremble involuntarily, loud sobs escaping your throat as your cunny began pulsing against his cock in an almost painful vice. You didn’t even notice the sudden gush of liquid that squirted out of you, hitting Tomura’s pelvis and forcing his cock out of your gushing hole due to the intense pleasure of your second orgasm.

Tomura groaned in surprise as a sudden force caused his cock to pull away, watching as your sweet little cunny quivered and pulsed as you squirted against him, the strong yet short stream eventually dying down to a dribble, falling onto a pool of your fluids beneath you.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight, and only after a few moments of staring, laughter began to bubble up in his chest, leaving his mouth in small manic giggles as he trailed his eyes back to your face.

Oh, what a beautiful sight you were. All sweaty, flushed and wrecked. Fat salty tears escaping your eyes as you shook, small pretty sobs escaping your lips as you laid out all blissed out and messy.

He leaned down to lick the salty tears off your face, his cock pulsing and throbbing with eagerness as he grinded against your sloppy pussy.

“Oh fuck…that was so fucking hot…holy shit..eheh…c’mon…don’t cry…let’s do it again…”

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