Platonic SB X GN Child Reader

🎃 Happy Halloween 🎃

Shigaraki Tomura x Fem! Reader

Good girls should just stay home, lest something goes bump in the night.

cw: NSFW • Implied Murder • Implied Serial Killer • Consensual Non-Consent turned Non-Consensual • Noncon • Dubcon • Abuse • Fingering (F) • Oral (M) • Deep Throating • Rough Sex • Attempted Murder • Hair Pulling • Degradation/Slight Humiliation • Dacryphilia • Yandere Themes • Kidnapping • a little OOC • This story possessed me and basically wrote itself • Barely proof read tbh

wc: 7k+

Something must be wrong with you.

Or at least, that’s what you imagine the world would think if anyone knew what you were doing.

The room was dark aside from the blue glow of your computer screen. The black web browser with red lettering almost ominous as your eyes scanned the consent form again. It was a consent form just to access the full website, on the surface serving only as a dating type of situation for the BDSM community. Beneath it though were layers deeper than what the simple description actually provided. You only found out about it through a deep dive into multiple sub-threads of Reddit. It was a basket case of crazy, the majority of information or advice, but you managed to dig up one reliable looking source.

This website you were currently on. L@ce&R0pe.com happened to provide a wide variety of goodies, from sex toys to actual published books on shibari, there wasn’t much you couldn’t find. Except like all websites not swallowed up by the deep web, there was never any section like the one you wanted so desperately.

Except this one, because your mouse didn’t hesitate to shift and hover over the drop down section for MEET, where you could link up with real people for whatever your heart desired really. You trailed down to NEW FRIEND, and clicked. A new tab opened, this one themed differently than the main website. It was light blue and pink, almost like a baby shower, except the only thing on the page was a single drop down menu, and clicking it made your head ache. There were thousands of options, but thankfully it was organized alphabetically, so you could easily scroll mindlessly until you hit the C section.

You found what you wanted, clicking it as your chosen option and hitting GO.

The screen changed, this time it looked similar to a dating profile fillable. You worked quickly, efficiently even, as you typed all your information in.

Not your name or address, nothing silly like that. Just your measurements, your favorite foods or beverages, the color of your eyes, your hair color, your height, and even the style of your nails. It asked if you liked to brush your hair everyday, how often you showered, what shampoo or body wash you like. You answered them all, as invasive as they soon became, you never wavered. What brand of deodorant do you use? How often do you clip or file your nails? To what length? Do you shave your pubic area? How often? What style? How many sexual partners have you had? Where have you had sex? Which hole do you prefer? Are you a crier or a screamer? Does blood turn you on? Do you like physical or mental pain more? Have you ever been raped before?

They got more personal and physiological as you answered. You felt hot and stuffy despite the window being open and the cool autumn air blowing in. You kept answering even as your throat got tighter and unease nestled into your clavicle.

Do you want to know who your new friend will be?

This time you do hesitate. Knowing would make it feel safer. Knowing would give you some semblance of control. Knowing would be the smart choice.

You clicked “no” and submitted the form, sealing your fate as your hands shook and adrenaline pumped through your veins.

You set the date for October 31st. Now all you had to do was wait and show up.

A notification hit his phone, lighting up the screen as cigarette smoke billowed around him in the back alley. A quick glance was all he needed to unlock and fully see the entire screen. The leather of his jacket rubbed against the brick he leaned against.

Halloween was probably the best time for such fun, crime rates skyrocketing and parties being loud and wild really left a big gaping hole for any type of heinous activity to occur. He grinned as the information poured onto his screen. His dick already becoming painfully hard as he read all your supplied information. You liked breath play, having someone spit in your mouth, even being slapped around. He was always amazed by the lack of shortage for sick freaks like you, but then again, he was one of them too. Licking his top lip, tongue piercing flicking out to rub against his cupid’s bow, he clicked “ACCEPT” on the notification. He had all your information, the when and where, and your adorable little comment of “Please don’t degrade me.” What more could he ask for? His smile is sinister in the low light off the neon sign of the bar, casting a purplish hue on his skin as he chuckles and shoves his phone away. Flicking his cigarette butt onto the dirty ground, he cracked his neck and knuckles before going back inside to finish his beer and round of pool with his friends.

He’ll see you on Halloween. He might even dress up a little for the occasion.

It’s cold.

It’s nearly November so you hadn’t expected warm weather necessarily, but it seemed chillier than usual despite your fairly insulated dress.

You dressed up as an angel, the irony not lost on you at all but it felt fitting almost for the occasion. The pristine white looked off in your surroundings. It was nearly midnight, but despite that the sidewalk of the park was filled with a fairly regular crowd of people passing through, on to the next party or home to sleep off all the alcohol. Really, you weren’t too out of place, in your white stockings and black heeled boots, the fluffy ruffled white babydoll dress that barely covered your ass or tits and the wings which were strapped around your shoulders and jutted out behind you. On your head was a slim clip which was attached to a white shiny halo that seemed to float above you, only a thin wire keeping it up. You’d at first felt a little exposed passing children going home for the night after trick or treating, eyes of judgemental families which you ignored boring into you, but now it was time for the adults to have fun. You’d already passed a plethora of college students or older dressed even more scantily than you, making you feel better, safer, out in the park you’d chosen. You’d chosen 0300 as your designated meetup time, but specified you’d be early in case they wanted to start sooner. So here you stood, under a streetlamp that illuminated you in a yellow glow, making you seem even more angelic despite the ominous darkness surrounding you. You were busy playing on your phone, scrolling mindlessly and trying not to appear too excited. Or scared. You figured it was a combination of both, the arousal and fear bleeding into one very specific but unnamed emotion. Tapping your boot to a rhythm only you could hear, the night drew on and another hour passed. The droves of people passing didn’t dwindle, but it was always a group, never a single individual which you hoped was your new friend. It was almost 0130 when you felt watched, goosebumps rising on your skin as you realized someone must be looking at you. A quick glance around showed no one though, and after ten minutes your hope dissolved into disappointment. It seemed your friend wasn’t an early bird.

“Hey,” a raspy, deep voice speaking almost directly into your ear, startling you enough to elicit a yelp. You turned, eyes landing on a dark clothed chest and trailing up to a hooded face you could barely make out through a mess of blue hair. His lips look a bit chapped, a small scar decorating a corner, but his teeth are white and straight as he smiles a grin that causes shivers to shoot down your spine.

…maybe your friend was an early bird, just not as much as you.

You take a step back, stuttering stupidly due to your overactive nerves and the earlier shock of his sudden appearance. “H-hi…um,” the stranger tilts his head, eyes still not visible, dark hoodie baggy on his frame. He looks a bit thin, like he wouldn’t have a lot of strength, his jeans having some strange splattering of fake blood or something on them. You lick your lips, heart ready to leap from your chest but not quite ready for the events to unfold.

Or maybe you were very ready.

“You’ve been standing here for hours,” he comments nonchalantly, hands moving to shove inside the large inner pocket on his hoodie, “Aren’t ya tired of waiting for your boyfriend?” His question is a bit confusing, and when you glance around you, it dawns that there’s no one out right now. When had the crowds dwindled to nothing? “I don’t… have a boyfriend…” you had clearly stated that online too, so he already knew the answer to your relationship status. Was he just teasing? Keeping this as realistic as possible? It made you a bit pleased. You fiddled with the ends of your cute frilly dress, exposing a small portion of your skin and garter belt which kept your thigh high socks up. His eyes tracked the motion, lips pulling up even higher making his smile menacing. Dangerous. “That so?” He asks, but it doesn’t seem like he’s too interested in a reply as he steps closer, his beat up sneakers so silent on the ground it’s a little unnerving. Since he’s playing along so much, it feels wrong for you to not reciprocate.

“What do you think you’re doing, creep? Stay back,” You hope he’s not offended by the name, figuring it wasn’t too mean or odd of a thing to call him. Your firm stance and defiant gaze make him pause, head tilting again but he’s quick to recover and laugh. It’s less of a sexy and deep chuckle like you expected, and more pitched and giggly. It’s almost creepy to hear from a grown man. Like a child from a horror movie laughing. “Creep? Yeah? Guess I am, but you know what?” His head lifts, and since he’s more centered under the tall street lamp, when he looks straight at you, two red eyes flash. “I’m a lot fucking worse than your average dumbass creep,” you jolt when he lunges at you, hand outstretched to grab you. It’s instinctive how quickly you turn and run, adrenaline helping you shoot off into the park where no light but the moon shined down. This is what you wanted, you chant to yourself to stay level headed enough to not truly panic. This was staged and as safe as possible. He’s not actually going to hurt you. You’d be fine, albeit maybe a little sore tomorrow morning. You shut your mind off and focus on running, though your speed wasn’t great in such cheap and unstable boots, roots and random objects on the ground constantly tripping you up.

You looked like the dumb girl in the horror movies, tits practically out of your low cut revealing white dress, strapless white bra damn useless and more for show than any real support or push-up. You huffed, digging in your heels when you heard a few twigs snap behind you, feet carrying you faster as you realized he was gaining on you quickly. He didn’t shout and you didn’t scream. The chase was exhilarating, your mind becoming fuzzy as your lungs burned for more oxygen. You hadn’t planned a chase, really leaving it all up to fate and your new friend, but this was perfect.

Until fingers tangled tight in your hair and yanked you completely off your feet, your shoes and legs going out in front of you as you landed gracelessly on your ass. Then an intense burning in your scalp erupts, a hiss of pain and a whine escaping as you slide over cool damp foliage, senseless grumbling coming from the stranger as he drags you into a deeper more secluded section of the park, away from any and all prying eyes. Not like anyone gave a damn. “I-it hurts!” You feel childish for crying, tears pricking your eyes but the burn was worse than you imagined truly, soft hands coming up to try and pry his fingers off.

He has a grip of iron apparently, not the least bit phased as he sighs, hauling you up and tossing you in front of him. You land weirdly on your left shoulder, a shock of pain numbing your mind as you heave for air and roll over. When you open your eyes, you’re face to face with him. His hood pulled off, shoulder length blue hair now tied back and up into a little bun while some stray pieces frame his face and forehead. Your eyes adjust to the darkness as they take him in.

He’s young, maybe early twenties, with pale skin and dark bags hugging beneath his scarlet eyes. He’s got a beauty mark just below his lip on the right side, the scar you saw earlier on the other. He’s not hard on the eyes, cute even, but the strange air around him makes the close proximity fill you with anxiety. His eyebrows are thin and sparse, but he cocks one with a smirk. “Not gonna scream for help, crybaby?” The nickname makes you realize tears are streaming down your cheeks, you blink them away quickly, shaking your head and trying to find your words again. “I—uh, do you want me to?” Wouldn't screaming just make it more likely for someone to call the police? You figured a little noise was fine, but screaming seemed counter productive.

His eyes widened a bit, confusion painting his features as he crouched down more comfortably on his haunches to get a better look at you.

He’d been watching you since you got to the park. A single party in this sort of place always sticks out like a sore thumb. You looked more ready for a porno than a costume party, from behind the view of your ass indescribably arousing in your short little dress. It was both a slutty and innocent look you pulled off well, at least enough to make him riled up, cock twitching in agreement within his pants. He shamelessly rubbed it through his jeans, caressing the hardening length and letting you watch with glee. Your face made him snort, amusement evident as he chuckles and squints. “You like this, little freak?” You looked like you did, he notes. Your wide pretty eyes, still a little teary and red at the ends, showed your blown out pupils. You looked to be more star struck, not terrified like any normal girl chased through a park and dragged into a little corner between some trees to be out of sight. He watches you swallow hard, lips parting before closing as if you aren’t sure what to say to that question. “Fuck, you’re cute,” he grins, “a cute little slut who stood out at night all alone as if begging for someone to come along and do something nasty.” You release a tiny yelp as he meanly shoves you back, straddling your upper chest with his thighs as he hunches over you, looming ominously above with wild eyes screaming for chaos. “Good thing that I came along, huh? Make all your nasty little fantasies come true.” He watches you gasp as he presses his fingers against your lips, confusion evident on your face but you aren’t really putting up much of a fight as you open and let him slide two in. “Nasty fucking girl, look at you, when you don’t even fucking know me.” He chuckles, and while he’s teasing you mostly, he is amazed. You looked erotic as hell right now, little angel costume all wrinkled and a bit dirty from the earth below, pretty face a bit stained with mascara that had run a little from your earlier tears. You weren’t wearing the waterproof kind it seemed. Lips bitten and chewed on, plump and glossy from whatever glittery shit you swiped on them earlier now wrapped around his digits as he dug around in your warm wet mouth. “Suck on them, slut,” he orders, his smile dropping and face becoming more serious as you hurry to obey, a strange trepidation building in your gut. He groans as he feels your tongue wiggle and swirl, pumping his fingers a bit now and enjoying the little bleats you release when he chokes you a bit with them. “Wonder if you’re soaked down here~” he hums, leaning back a bit and yanking his fingers from your lips, wiping the excess saliva across your cheek and huffing a laugh as your features wrinkle in distaste. His hand moves behind him, easy access to your cunt due to the frilly dress hiked up almost around your waist, revealing cute soaked white cotton panties he growls at the sight of. “You really suck at putting up a fight, crybaby, but I think I heard somewhere that girls get wet when scared too…” those red eyes flick back to your own, "You scared?” He asks, almost softly. He watches you breathe, chest struggling a bit under his weight but your hands curled into the fabric of his hoodie, not pushing him away. “A little…?” Is your shaky response, and he wonders silently if you’re an idiot or just a pervert. You might be both, because when he lets his thumb dig into where your pussy lay poorly hidden, you moan for him and spread your legs wider. You make it even easier to search for his desired location, your swollen bundle of nerves. “O-oh—!” Your head falls back, little halo becoming a bit misshapen as it gets flattened to the ground, he tsks, fixing it with his free hand as he thumbs your little clit and watches you mewl and writhe beneath him, pleasure clearly visible on your face. Your hips buck and wiggle, body pinned beneath his and unable to get away or closer like you desperately want for more friction than he’s providing. “P-please,” you can’t help but beg, hoping your new friend is merciful enough to make you cum and not simply edge you all night.

It’s the pouty expression which makes him nearly feral, his grin spreading wide again as he keeps working his finger on your clit but his face closes the distance between your own. His lips just barely graze yours, and you are all too happy to part your lips and give him a sloppy kiss back, his own tongue finally slipping into your mouth where you suck. The smooth muscle in your mouth and the saliva dripping from it drive you wild, hands now dragging him closer and trying to make him do more for you. The heat spreads slowly however, his pace not changing, and despite his slim build he’s much stronger than you. You aren’t able to take any more than what is given, huffing in exasperation and groaning when he places more force before easing off. “S-stop teasing…” you whine against his lips, which were much softer than they look. He smirks, airy chuckle felt more than heard as he shakes with a silent laugh, “how can I not, you’re such a rare find, I plan to take my time with you.” He kisses you hard to silence whatever whines you planned to release to make him give you more. Instead he forces you into a slow building orgasm that leaves him having to pin your wrists above your head lest your clawing rip his skin open. He works you gently and cruelly into it, loving how you gasp and choke for him, eyes rolling back while you shake almost like you’re possessed and soak through your panties. “There you go, heh, normally I wouldn’t bother to take my time with whiny bitches, but you’re more obedient and sweet than I first assumed.” He whispers into your ear as you come down from the mind blowing high, body limp and pliant like dough now. The insult from him brings out a little whine of protest, teary eyes looking at him with almost something akin to betrayal.

“I-I don’t like being called mean names…I said so online too,” he pulls up finally, the chill of the night attacking full force on your now exposed cunt as he brings your panties up to his nose to inhale. His eyes narrow, almost into slits as he pulls them back and shoves them into his hoodie pocket. “Oh yeah? You post that shit on your social media or something? Sorry, I don’t really use those trash platforms. I have a Twitch stream though,” he acts like this is the time for a regular conversation, even as he unbuttons and unzips his jeans, yanking them down his hips to pull his cock free. Your eyes go wide, mind a bit blank and missing something, in favor of looking at him pump his length lazily. A trail of blue curls like on his head travel from his navel to his groin where it spreads out a little, the color a bit darker as it goes lower. He’s not one to shave it seems, but your eyes focus on his cock, average in length but girthy with a tip that curves up almost perfectly. It looks like a cock someone would sell as a dildo at a sex store. It was pretty, admittedly, as a few pearls of pre-cum dotted the tip and spilled over as he slowly worked it above you. “Hungry?” He jokes, but when you nod he grits his teeth and bites back a moan, the night truly more unexpected than he thought. “Open up then, crybaby.” He thankfully didn’t call you a bitch again, crybaby the less of the evils and more acceptable of a petname for your preference as you open your lips and awkwardly lean your head forward. “No need to lean up,” he mumbles, shifting until his knees now rested by your shoulders, tip just in your mouth and his forearms on the earth above your head. He’s looking down at you, and you lay back down as he works his cock in your mouth. He’s going to fuck your mouth, you realize a bit late, the position so easy for him to hit balls deep in your throat and prevent you from running just from his weight alone. You’re pinned to earth, the scent of crisp autumn becoming mingled with the musky masculine odor the stranger had clinging to him. Something smelled of iron too, but it was fainter and didn’t bother you too much, not when he seemed determined to suffocate you with his cock. You jerk a little, teeth accidentally grazing his cock and his hiss of pain alerts you that you’ve hurt him. He pulls up and out of your mouth, glaring ferociously as he looks down at you with contemplation. “Sorry—! I’m not used—,” the words leaving you mouth go unfinished as you’re suddenly looking away and down, confusion wracking your mind before white hot pain erupts across your face and you cry out in agony.

He watches with a cool nonchalance as you whimper and cry, holding your inflamed cheek and looking at him with teary eyes filled with questions. The sight doesn’t help his hardness, your face swelling a bit from the force of the blow already, but it was still arousing how you cried for him so easily. “Don’t bite my fucking dick and I won’t hit you, clear?” He’s grabbing you roughly by the hair again, yanking you up and no longer in the mood for that awkward position as he stands and pulls you to your knees. This position at least gives him a good eye full of your tits, shaking from your little trembling as you’re made to look up at him. His angry reddened cock next to your injured cheek is a sight for him, his hand gripping his shaft and slapping you lightly on the cheek with it, his hand in your hair preventing you from turning away even as you whimper in pain. “Okay, we’ll try this again, crybaby. Open.” You do, even as tears run like waterfalls down your face, mascara smeared and making a pathetic sight for sore eyes of you, you let his cock enter your mouth once more.

Because you’ve never been more aroused.

Your stranger isn’t nice, pushing hard and deep into your throat immediately and gagging you. You’re careful with your teeth, jaw already burning and aching as he locks his arm and hand, strands of hair tearing out as he works his hips into your face at an uneven pace. “Stop fucking moving,” he growls, stepping even closer, blocking any and all exits and forcing you to take it. His cock didn’t seem so scary when he’d pulled it out, but in your throat it was a plug to your oxygen and felt too big for your poor mouth. It hurt, feeling him go too deep and leaving you coughing and sputtering and even still he wouldn’t pull out, groaning and pressing impossibly deep like he truly means to suffocate you. “You got a good little mouth pussy, crybaby. Fuck—take my cock, just like that.” He moans, watching as you struggle on his dick to breathe or swallow, slobber and tears coating his cock as he makes a mess of your pretty face. He doesn’t care that your eyes are starting to roll back, hands which had previously been clawing at his legs going limp at your sides. You acted more like a hole for him to fuck when you were limp like this, and it drove him wild as he grunted like an animal and rutted into your mouth like he held a grudge against you. Both hands dug into your hair, hands pulling you back onto his cock when his hips bucked you away. “Never fucked a—holy shit—ah, mouth so damn good before—, ah fuck, fuck,” he’s getting breathier as time ticks by, his own eyes rolling back as his balls draw up tight. “I’m going to cum, ready for me crybaby? Want it in your tummy or on your face?” He’s being condescending on purpose, but it’s a bit useless considering he’s rendered you nearly unconscious on his dick. He shrugs your lack of response off, pumping his cock down your throat until he sees stars and yanks himself free just before the first spurt misses and hits the grass below, he grips the base, pumping and shooting his next shot right onto your face. He yanks your head against his thigh, delirious face dazed and coughing softly as he finishes on your glitter and mascara run cheeks, using the tip to smear it well into your ruined makeup as he sneers at you from above.

“Hah…” he catches his breath, sucking in oxygen along with you as his gaze turns calculated.

“Wake up, I’m not done with you yet.” He’s more gentle now that he's cum at least once, tapping your uninjured cheek with two fingers as your eyes roll around before opening and looking at him.

He swears, your face making him hard again instantly, blood pooling to his groin at the messy sight of you in your white ruined angel costume. “You really are unlucky I was out tonight, I don’t think I’m gonna let you go.” His dead serious comment caused something cold to hit your veins, chills running through you as you gape in shock.

“W-what…?” He reaches into his hoodie pocket, pulling out what looked like a foot long serrated hunting blade. He snickers at the blank look of shock on your features.

“What’s wrong, crybaby? No tears for me right now?” You’re shaking, getting paler by the second as you realize no, it’s not a costume, and yes, there is still dried blood on the blade. There’s dried blood all over him, his spree tonight ridiculously fruitful and his body still high on the thrill. Imagine his luck finding you. “T-this wasn’t in my profile, wh-what are you doing?” Now you look alert, now you act like a regular civilian, he notes cooly. “I only con-consented to the sex and stuff, I said I didn’t like—like blades or blood play.” Your eyes are wide as saucers and you have a cold sweat now forming and dotting your skin, shaky like on too much caffeine as your body dumped chemicals to help you run.

His head tilts, a few more strands of hair coming loose from his tie as those red eyes watch you without any emotion in their depths.

“Ah~ I get it now. Are you some kind of freak who links up with people online for this kind of shit?” He laughs, eyes not matching the manic toothy grin. “Sorry to disappoint slut, I ain’t your tinder or whatever match. Did you do it anonymously?” He’s beyond amused, thrilled by the horror dawning on your face as reality sets in. “You’re a fucking idiot.” He sneers, but he’s joyful when you book it, heeled boots caked in mud as they dig into the ground and you take off for real. True intent to get away now because he’s not your new friend, he’s a real stranger and his energy is nothing but malevolent.

You’re going to die.

It’s a sick thought that twists inside you as you push the hardest you’ve ever, scream bubbling up and out as you cry for help now. “HELP! Please! Someone! Anyone!” It’s more broken and hoarse than you want, his earlier abuse to your throat having taken a number on your ability to vocalize.

It’s empty. This damn park is empty.

Not a soul around and you can’t hear him coming for you anymore, and it only makes the tears fall harder as you drive your body to a breaking point. If no one is around you can at least aim for your car, your phone will take too much time to look at and dial the police, you’d be too open and that would mean—

Something—someone—smashes into you, your body thrown sideways by the brute force and flung roughly to the ground where you roll several feet.

It hurts—!

Your body and mind scream as pain lights up your shoulder, a previously dull ache now hounding for your attention so much it left you lightheaded. You twisted your ankle too or maybe broke it, already so regretful for the evening and your life choices that your shoes hardly broke the bank. It all hurt, and yet you still tried to crawl to get away, still eager for another deep breath of air in your lungs even if it hurt to do that too.

“Hck, please, please—help—!,” you’re a sobbing pathetic mess, and he couldn’t be more turned on by the sight. He dusts himself off like he hadn’t tackled you like a linebacker for a major league football team, his lanky form sinewy with muscle and his agility nothing to scoff at. He swirls the enormous daunting blade with a whistle, smiling more genuinely as he strolls towards your shaking form crawling away.

“Where do you think you’re going, crybaby? I said I wasn’t done with you,” he lands a solid hit to your middle, dirty sneaker smearing mud on your cute little dress, looking less and less white as the night wears on. The blow is not hard enough to damage anything, he’s sure, but you act as if you’ve been disemboweled by how you howl and heave. He rolls his eyes at the dramatics, settling one foot between your shoulder blades and pressing down until you’re left immobilized.

Your vision is blurry, going in and out of focus as you try, and try, and try to get away, cute nail polish chipped and ruined as you claw at the dirt floor for leverage.

He admires your tenacity. “You think you can get away? That anyone is coming to save you?” He brushes a few stray hairs out of his face as he laughs, the urge to gut you strong as he savors your useless little struggle. “Crybaby, look around! No one is coming! I said look,” he grinds out, dropping to one knee while his other leg remains planted on your back, his hand gripping your hair and yanking your head up to see what he meant.

There’s a fence. A metal chain link fence, and it had a sign your vision was too blurry to read through your tears.

“You ran yourself straight into the worst possible area, this is sort of your game over,” He leans down to look at you, yanking your head back and forcing you into an uncomfortable arch. He raises up the blade, fully intending to slit your pretty throat and watch your eyes as the light fades, but you blubber out a sentence which halts him.

“Y-you didn’t finish! E-earlier, hck, earlier you didn’t finish—!” Your eyes squeeze closed in pain as he yanks your head to the side. Confusion burned in him, and curiosity kept you breathing for now.

“Didn’t finish what, crybaby? Fairly certain I finished all over your face, if I remember correctly.” He has a sharp edge in his tone, something metallic fills your mouth and you realize you’ve bitten through your tongue in your panic. A few drops spill past your lips, catching his attention.

“S-shouldn’t you also f-fuck me too? I-it’s why I came out tonight, wh-why I, ah, d-did this,” it’s a long shot by any means, and he’s no fool, but you did make a good point.

He was still hard.

“Smart little crybaby, aren’t you?” He mutters darkly, setting aside his blade in favor of smashing your face into the dirt, keeping your head down as he presses against your back and yanks your hips up. Your knees are skinned from the rough handling, socks torn open and stained with blood and dirt while his calloused hands slip beneath your dress. Your breath hitches. You needed to think of some way out of this, some kind of plan to escape or incapacitate him.

He’s busied himself with your still dripping cunt. Two fingers roughly filling your hole and uncaringly stretching your tight entrance. “You really are a freak, wet even though you’re going to die, crybaby.” He felt a bit strange as you whimper and mewl below, hand slowing as he tried to place the feeling.

He shrugs it off, instead easily yanking down his jeans which were still unbuttoned and pulling out his cock once more, stroking his shaft a few times before he lined himself up with your puffy lips. “Fuck—,” he swears, eyes seeing stars as he pushes just his tip past the tight ring of muscle at your entrance, mouth opening as licks his lips and stares down at you. “Never had pussy so good…” he giggles darkly, cracking his neck as he pushes each inch inside of you, stretching you out deliciously until you’re speared on his cock with his hips flush with your ass. “Who knew you’d be the best, crybaby.” He muses, fingers digging into the fat of your hips, your little dress flipped up and over your ass so he can watch it bounce as he leans back on his knees to fuck you deeper. You need to think straight but it’s difficult with how good your body feels, the pain from earlier seeming to go away with a numb buzz as he fills your pussy, hitting perfectly against a spot that has you arching harder for more.

You really are a freak like he says.

You can’t help relaxing further, eyes dumbly looking to the side where your head rests as he pounds into you from behind, the coil in your gut growing tighter by the minute.

The clouds blocking the moon seem to part just for you, the full moon’s light no longer blocked and illuminating the little patch of grass he’d tackled you into. Something gleams, in perfect reach too as your eyes widen.

His knife.

He’d already proven you can’t outrun him, but what if he was injured? There’s a major artery in the thigh, if you hit that, wouldn’t you be able to get away?

He yanks back roughly, moaning as he feels you squeeze even tighter around him, velvet walls massaging his dick while he tries to fuck himself as deep as possible inside of you.

It hit you despite all your intentions not to, because this wasn’t safe and he wants to end your life and everything is wrong, but your body doesn’t listen. You cum with a shaky cry, and with an awkward turn of your head you watch as his head goes back and he moans, eyes closed in bliss as you coat his cock in even more slick.

You’re louder than you intended to be, but your fingers close around the hilt nonetheless, trembling with the heavy weight in your grasp, you use every ounce of energy inside you to swing it back into his thigh.

“Cute,” you scream as he catches your wrist, hand clenching so tight you feel your bones grind together as the knife falls from your grip. He twists your arm around and pins your wrist behind your back, holding it in place while his other hand remains at your hip.

“So fucking cute, crybaby. Did you cum just to distract me or was that because you couldn’t help yourself?” He’s getting a high from this, from fucking you and turning you into nothing but a toy as he bounces you on his cock, hips still but arms pulling you back and forth with ease. Scarlet eyes drink you in with undisguised sick glee, and he’s finally able to place the feeling from earlier.

“A pretty little slut trying to get her rocks off and getting shown why she should’ve been a good girl and stayed home,” he grunts, releasing you and leaning over, pinning you with his weight and nearly knocking the air from your lungs how deeply he hits you inside from this angle. Dirt fills the underbelly of your nails, your fingers digging into the earth just for some semblance of stability.

You had none. It was a sick and horrifying realization. You have no control. You can do nothing to stop this. As deeply as it made your gut sink, another odd emotion rose to the surface.

A bubbly sensation that tore through you as your tears became less from fear and more from overstimulation.

His hips piston in and out of you, bullying your cervix in this position as he ruts into you like a hound, tongue hanging out of his mouth as he moans and grunts.

You break again, spasm and cinch down on his cock like a vice while you wail as if in mourning. Maybe you are, for yourself at least. “Oh fuck—! s’too much—, please, I can’t—, f-feels good, hah,” your nearly incoherent babbling sends him over the edge along with you, his own dull nails finally drawing blood as he holds you for dear life as he releases deep inside you, tip kissing right up against you womb as he cums. You can feel it too, his cock twitching inside as the night seems to still for a moment.

He holds you for a while. Breathing you in, nuzzling his face into your neck and licking you. He holds you until his cock fully softens and it hurt to be gripped so tightly inside your wet heat, regrettably pulling away.

He stands, putting his sticky limp cock away inside his underwear and pulling up his pants, looking down at your ruined figure that had slumped over to the side.

“Y’know, crybaby… you really resemble an angel now,” he smiles, red eyes almost glowing as the moon blankets his back and shadows his face. His hair seems almost white like this, your tired eyes note. You don’t move or even flinch as he grabs his knife and yanks your limp figure up by your hair. Even now you’re still crying, face lax despite the rivers flowing down your dirty swollen cheeks. You make no effort to stop him, having given up completely.

He crouches down again, mostly eye level now as he makes you look at him.

“You got any last words?” He’s being dead serious. He feels strange looking at the almost glazed over look in your eyes.

“W-what…” your voice is barely a whisper, but the night is so quiet he catches it, “what’s your…name?”

An unexpected question.

His eyes gleam, smile ravenous as he puts his lips against your ear and whispers it.

“Tomura, what’s your name, crybaby?” He asks, gently, almost like he’s actually interested.

You hoarsely whisper it, your last time ever saying it after tonight. He hums, like it pleases him, before he brings down the knife swiftly.

Your vision goes dark, the strike mercifully painless. Your last thoughts blur as you drift into soft nothingness.

He releases your hair, grabbing your limp figure up in his arms as he chuckles and sheaths his knife properly on his hip. “Dumb crybaby” his voice almost singing the words as he whistles and walks away, the park dead silent but even if someone had seen you in his arms, he could just play the good boyfriend taking his sweetheart home safely. It’s not entirely a lie either, his eyes glancing down at your unconscious form, pretty neck unmarred but a bruise would likely form on the back where he struck you tomorrow. Tomura had never felt compelled to allow a victim to live, but then again he’s never fucked a victim either, so you’re the first for a lot. He supposed it made you quite special, his legs carrying him in the direction of his car in the parking lot about a mile south. Obsession and possessiveness swirled in those red depths as they looked at your figure.

“Good girls should just stay home…” he continues his sardonic little tune, his smile gruesome and foreboding.

Vibrant blue orbs check his surroundings again, noting once again his friend was a no show. Rolling his eyes, he knew it was too good to be true. Your profile screamed inexperienced and cautious, despite you clicking that you’d like him to remain anonymous beforehand. It didn’t matter, he’d just go enjoy some sorority girl pussy instead, figuring at 0330 that most parties would be winding down. Drunk girls dressed like sluts were his second favorite.

Dabi clicks the notify option on his app, letting the website staff know you never showed up.

Though, he muses if something did happen, the police wouldn’t be notified until it was too late. Halloween weekend after all meant you could be missing for quite a while before anyone noticed.

Not his problem though.

Post dividers/@cafekitsune

How would Shiggy go about being infatuated with a girl who’s shy and just as much of an inexperienced, asocial loser as he is? (Might his corruption kink motivate him to make the first move?) NSFW too plzzzzzzz

A/N: IM SORRY FOR THE IMAGE HAHA IM RUNNING OUT OF BW IMAGES TO USE FOR THIS BLOG (send me some plz send more tomura panels)

WARNINGS: nsfw under the cut

Now I'm sorry if like this isn't on par with the ask but he's also a loser so he'll try and reinact things he's seen from hentai, and you two will fail miserably.

he wants to take your virginity but he's a virgin himself and he's not sure how to initate it other than you push you somewhere and get you stuck (jk)

you two will be somewhat intimate? like you'll make the first move and try to hold his hand or lock arms, silly things like that.

it's cute watching a bunch of young adults act like preteens and their first relationship.

he finds himself more erect often when he's alone and also unable to jack off to his usual porn, but when he finds one where the actresses look like you or share something with you, he's hard as a rock.

he's not particularly shy, mostly he hates people. so you two would probably meet at a cafe or gamer cafe/gameshop or arcade.

he will try and make the first move, you two have probably been close by now and let it slip that you also watch porn or something because like losers, they kind of tend to ramble when someone's there to listen.

he'll try and put something together to sleep with you but god he's at a loss.

he finally mans up and watches something that gives him a decent idea. So he goes out, buys condoms, hides them under his pillows and invites you over.

you two will start playing games together probably sitting on his bed or something before you make the first move.

after a loss, you're sitting there upset while he stares at you with a cocky smile before you muster up the metaphorical balls to kiss him.

he's excited, really excited, it makes him pop a boner instantly.

everything proceeds with foreplay, making out, slowly taking clothes off, some odd gamer talk in the middle of it,

but since the both of you are inexperienced, it's kind of a struggle. you ask him to prep you, he has no lube and he's scared of decaying the only person he actually holds close so he asks you to prep yourself.

while you do it, it's embarrassing but don't worry he'll be jacking off while he watches so it's fair, right?

once you're done, he gets up, gets the condoms and you two struggle to slide it on him, who knew this shit could be so hard to do and so confusing?

he eventually does slide it all the way down and he gets ontop of you to try different positions.

the best one for the two of you is missionary, so he tries that, he tries to put it in but really he's kind of just humping your folds.

a good struggle later and he finally slips it in, it feels heavenly for the both of you, he doesn't really know how to thrust but he tries, it feels so good.

both of you will end up cumming quick, and doing it over and over again, exploring and experimenting with eachother until you're both covered in fluids and panting on his bed happily.

The aftercare will consist of fastfood and mariokart. or a duo on league.

and that's it you're his girlfriend now.

—Ake 2024

I didn’t put this WIP on the list for the WIP game, but I’m hyped about it, so here is an excerpt from a fic inspired partially by a conversation with @sophsiaaa and written for a summer fic event hosted by @threadbaresweater! Shigaraki x reader, coffee shop au + ‘a day at the beach’:

Past noon, things slow down a bit. You decide to speed-clean the espresso machine, and you’re so focused on your work that you don’t notice the customer. It’s possibly also the customer’s fault, since he’s peering at you from over the drink pickup counter instead of standing by the cash register, and when he barks the question at you, it startles you badly. “What’s the password?”

“On the WiFi?” You tuck your burned hand behind your back. “No password. Find a place to sit down and have at it.”

The customer looks disconcerted. Or at least you think he does — the lower half of his face is covered with a surgical mask, and given that he doesn’t have eyebrows, it’s hard to read his expression. “Why?”

“Why isn’t there a password?” You haven’t gotten that question yet. “I want people to be able to use it if they need it.”

“They’re gonna watch porn.”

“Me putting a password on the WiFi wouldn’t stop that,” you say. “And I’m not the Internet police. If somebody starts acting up, I’ll deal with it. If not — just use headphones.”

The customer’s expression twists. “I didn’t mean me.”

“Sure.” You’re not a moron. “It’s not my business what you do. Unless your business starts messing with my business. Seriously. Knock yourself out.”

The customer turns away, and you spend a second being extremely grateful that you went for single-occupancy bathrooms instead of multiple-stall bathrooms before you go back to cleaning the espresso machine. Your hand hurts, but it’s nothing running it under cold water won’t fix later. When you straighten up, there’s someone at the counter.

It’s porn guy, who you really shouldn’t call porn guy. Innocent until proven guilty and all that. You dry your hands and hurry over. “What can I get for you today?”

“Black coffee.”

“Sure. Anything else?”

The customer glances at the pastry case, then shakes his head. Then his stomach growls audibly. He knows you heard it. What little of his face is visible above the mask turns red. “No.”

“Tell you what,” you say. “I’ve got these new pastries the bakery wants me to try out, but next to nobody’s tried one yet. If you agree to tell me how it was, you can have it half off.”

“I have money.” The customer shoves a credit card across the counter to you, and you see that he’s wearing fingerless gloves. Or sort of fingerless gloves. They’re missing the first three fingers and that’s it. “I don’t need help.”

“No, but you’re helping me out,” you say. You add the pastry to his order and discount it by half, then fish it out of the case with a pair of tongs. “For here or to go?”

“Here.” The customer watches as you set it on a plate. “What is that?”

“It’s babka.”

“I can read. What is it?”

“I don’t really know,” you admit. Maybe that’s why people aren’t buying them. “The filling is chocolate and cinnamon, though. It’s hard to go wrong with that. It’ll be just a second with the coffee.”

You fill a mug, then point out the cream and sugar. Then you realize you still haven’t tapped the customer’s card. You finish ringing it up and glance at the cardholder’s name. Shimura Tenko. He hasn’t been in before today. You’re not the best with faces, but you never forget a name.

I don't know if this is disgusting but sex with periods with an embarrassed girlfriend? (I see tomura being disgusting)

do i think Shigaraki is a perv and a neet? yes.

would i still let him smash? also yes.

Shigaraki With Girlfriend On Her Period

trigger warnings: period blood, period sex

other: female reader

word count: 800~

when you and Shigaraki first start having an...intimate relationship, he can't get enough of it. he's a touch starved guy, and if he thought that holding your hand or kissing (!!) you felt so fantastically great, imagine what sexual intimacy would do to him.

he wants to fuck like rabbits all the time, so any platonic or innocent contact with him ends up with you both naked and panting. i mean, what else would you expect from him? he's a young man in his twenties, who just discovered sexual pleasure, so he's going to be all over you 24/7.

you want to cuddle with your boyfriend and watch that new anime that just released? fifteen minutes in it, and you're already shaking his bed vigorously, not even pausing the show. soft kisses turn into makeout sessions, then groping over the clothes, and before you know it his head is between your legs and then it's his constantly hard dick stuffing you.

at this point in the relationship he is quite selfish, so when you stop him from going down on you, he'll be taken aback a little. do you really expect him to know what a period is? of course he has internet and Shigaraki is not dumb, but he never felt the need to know about female anatomy, what for? he heard the phrase "are you on your period?" before in a different context that lead him to think it's when the girl is moody or sad, or whatever.

he doesn't know shit about women, apart from their sexualized image from hentai or games, he thinks they're pretty much the same as guys.

so, he'll say something rude like "how's that a problem for us to fuck?" or something of the sort, only to have you stare at him like he's crazy. "what do you mean? you'll get all bloody and dirty, that's unhygienic and gross! do you not know what a period is?" by the deadpan expression on his face, you can tell that he really doesn't, so you explain it to him reluctantly.

Tomura can't help but think "is that all it is?" you have blood leaking out of your pussy, sure, that's weird as fuck, but he doesn't find it dirty of repulsive. it's not like you're unclean, you shower at least trice a day, and now he knows why, but he doesn't mind a little blood on him. after all, he already tasted you several times and you swallow his cum so generously afred sucking him off (even if he didn't take a bath), so it's only fair he does the same, right?

it's amusing to him how you cover your flushed face with your hands, telling him that it's disgusting and he'll be grossed out as he slides your panties off. the smell of blood hits his nose before he even sees it, but it's not the usual metallic smell that comes from an enemy, it's not unpleasant even. it's just different, and he doesn't hate it. he's too horny to care.

the sight of red sticky fluid smeared all over your pretty pussy makes him want to lick it off instantly, and he does just that, making you squeal in shame. you beg him to stop, saying that it's embarassing and sick, but he's so into it he's beyond listening to your pleas. he slides his tongue between your pussy lips, massaging your entrance with the tip and is astonished when more blood comes out right into his mouth, as you grunt and cry out in pleasure.

it seems like his ministrations bring you some kind of release, so he makes sure to plunge his tongue as deep into your hole as he is able to, wriggling it in and out in circular motion, lapping on your fluids mixed with blood while at it. he doesn't even notice how he starts moaning and grunting along with you, lips vibrating against your sex. Tomura realizes that he's enjoying this just as much as you are, maybe even more so.

you almost scream with relief when he sticks his dick into you, making your cramps even more bearable, hitting your womb just right, unhinging all the pent up preassure in your gut. the sight of your pussy stretching out for him, more bloody discharge coating his cock makes him feel like his splitting you in half with it. you wail and orgasm like you never did before and it's a massive ego boost for him.

he cums all over your ass and thighs, smudging blood and cum on your skin, mixing it together. he'll help you shower afterwards and maybe massage your body a little more under the hot water. just let him love you and take extra care of your puffy pussy for this week, ok baby? he can promise you'll be satisfied.

Shigaraki is a missionary man you can’t tell me otherwise.

He likes the whole power dynamic of putting you on your back and being on top, crowding into your personal space, giving you nothing else to focus on but him. Does he like the other positions? Sure. He’s not exactly going to turn down sex.

But his favourite is you pressed beneath him, panting, gasping. He loves being smug about how you ‘had so much to say before’, and watching as embarrassment forces you to hide your face in his shoulder. He likes your faces being so close, noses brushing and foreheads touching. He likes your sounds in his ear, the messy, yearning kisses that you give him. He likes being able to hide his own face in your chest when he’s about to cum, and the way your hands move over his body and your legs lock around his hips to keep him inside.

He’ll act like missionary annoys him because he has to do all the work, and like the only reason he agrees to it is because he wants to see you squirm (which is also true). But ultimately, shigaraki craves missionary - he craves the intimacy of it all.

Do you think we can get a little snippet of shigaraki and spinners drunken conversation about mc? 🫣

Ummm, YESSS?!?!

(Side note, this ended up being a lot more poignant and plot-relevant then I expected so I'll probably clean it up a bit and make it an official half chapter or something.)

“She’s too good for me.”

“That’s true.”

“She should be with Mirio.”

“Oh fuck that!”

“No, she should!”

“Shigaraki.”

Iguchi and Shigaraki laid on the floor, bodies in different directions but heads side by side. They’d long abandoned their controllers, their drivers stuck against a fence and parked in a patch of grass mid-Moo Moo Meadows respectively, as they became far too engrossed in their conversation and intoxication to proceed. If Iguchi had been still holding his controller though, he would’ve promptly thrown it at his friend for the way he was talking.

“It’s true, it’s true! They have so much more in common!” Shigaraki whined, genuinely whined.

“Like what?” Iguchi demanded.

“They both swim. They both have muscles. They’re both pretty…”

“All superficial stuff, man—”

“—and their brains aren’t all fucked.”

“Have you seen the way she laughs during horror movies? I don’t know if that’s entirely true.”

“I’m fucking serious, Spinner. You know me. You know I’m never gonna get better. Not really.”

Iguchi frowned. Because that wasn’t true. He’d seen such amazing improvement from Shigaraki in the last couple months, such a vast development of care, self-awareness, and empathy. He’d come a long long way.

But also, it wasn’t entirely untrue either.

There was something fundamentally broken inside of Tomura Shigaraki. Something that went beyond the warped way he’d been raised and lessons he’d been taught, beyond the abuse and trauma he’d suffered as a child. This was something that had to do with the way he was wired, the way he was born and how he felt things. Iguchi was similar in a lot of ways. And it took a certain level of medical intervention and SSRI’s to get him to a point where he could even start to function. He’d needed serious help, Shigaraki needed serious help.

Iguchi couldn’t say any of that to him though. He couldn’t recommend therapy or medication or support groups, it’d all be rejected, just as it had been many times before. Because even if Shigaraki wanted it, that was a help that All for One would never allow him to find.

So, Iguchi back-tracked to a more fixable problem.

“You’ve said it yourself, Shigaraki. They’re not right together. He stifles her,” Iguchi said, “Even if she’s trying to make things work with Mirio right now, it’s not gonna last forever. She’s a smart person, she’ll know to throw in the towel eventually.”

Shigaraki snorted, “And then what?”

“And then you make your move.”

He shook his head, “No. No even if they break up, I don’t think I can.”

“What’re you, stupid?!” Iguchi demanded, the vodka redbulls shoving his fuzzy irritation to the forefront, “Why the hell wouldn’t you give it an actual try then?!”

“Cause she’s too fucking good for me!” Shigaraki drunkenly wailed.

Iguchi groaned, sitting up so he could take a LARGE gulp of his drink. Shigaraki often made him feel like he needed a drink, but he was testing his nerves now more than ever with this woe as me schtick. Especially since he knew that Shigaraki was gonna pursue her in some stupidly roundabout way anyway.

“She deserves someone healthy. Someone who’s not gonna hurt her,” he turned to look up at Iguchi then, “You should date her.”

Iguchi choked on his drink.

“W-What?! Me?!” he coughed and sputtered.

“Yeah. You guys have way more in common anyway. You like to game and workout. Your parents are both normal, but like, weird, you know?” Shigaraki looked back down to the carpet at his eye level, getting to the real point, “And you’d be good for each other. To each other. Better than I’ve ever been to either of you.”

“That could never happen.”

“Nah, nah, I think she’d go for you! You may be ugly, but she doesn’t care about stuff like that.”

“Dick! That’s not what I meant!” Iguchi snapped with an angry blush, wondering if he should even bother to comfort this bastard after saying something like that.

But then Shigaraki looked up at him with that childlike curiosity of his, and Iguchi couldn’t help but continue.

“I mean that I’d never do that to you. And neither would she.”

Shigaraki snorted, “Why? I’d do it to you.”

Iguchi cocked a brow at him.

“You sure about that?”

Shigaraki’s eyes narrowed, in a way that was clearly meant to be challenging, but was really more poutlike in his whiney drunken state. 

When Iguchi didn’t back down like he expected, Shigaraki just rolled over onto his side with some grumpy grumbling of something like “you don’t know. You don’t know what I’d do.”

Iguchi just chuckled and grabbed Shigaraki’s solo cup, filling it with water this time rather than vodka. 

“...I’m gonna miss those skirts of hers when she goes to college.”

“She wears skirts in her day to day too, doesn’t she?” Iguchi asked, waving the cup in front of Shigaraki’s face.

“They’re not the same,” Shigaraki whined, leaning forward to take a sniff, shaking his head when he smelt the lack of alcohol, “They should make those skirts mandatory at Todai!”

Iguchi nudged him with it insistently, “Yeah. Yeah they should.”

“I’ll get Sensei to do something about it!”“If you remember to do that after this, I’ll wear one of those skirts.”

mentions: blood, injury, horror themes. sorry LMAO. they care u?

you were taught—like all others at a young age—that the word 'friend' has a positive connotation.

friend, best friend, work friend—they all have positive associations with them. it's only natural, you suppose, for humans to crave close connections to others. after all, you've experienced it your whole life, not only with yourself, but when looking at the people around you and how they interact with the world.

friends are good, simple as that. and to be called someone's friend means that you'll always be there for them. that you care about them and crave their presence in your life.

so when sun calls you his friend for the first time—your first day on the job, in fact—you're a bit surprised and maybe a little weirded out. you've only just met him and frankly, you hadn't been aware that this applied to robots as well. it's something you find yourself ruminating upon later.

he uses the title very often, you've noticed. not only with you, but with others as well. mostly the kids at the daycare, since they are whom he interacts with the most on a daily basis. you figure it must be part of his programming to make people more comfortable with him, so you let him call you whatever his little robot heart desires. not like it was really bothering you or anything—though you certainly grow more accustomed to it the closer you get to him.

part of you wonders if he puts any weight behind the word—if by calling you 'friend' he truly means it. maybe he doesn't understand the concept—made, as he is, from metal and code. perhaps it is just an empty word. perhaps it isn't. you're not sure if you'll ever know.

moon doesn't call you 'friend', not really. he's quite quiet when he wants to be and sticks to calling you other names that make your eye twitch sporadically on more than one occasion. what he does do relentlessly is tease you, and you figure that's his way of getting close to people. or driving them away, whichever comes first. you get used to him like you get used to sun's openness.

you find yourself pondering upon the relationship you form with the daycare attendant over time, analyzing and picking them apart in your mind in the nights you spend at home. they seem to have an affinity for your presence, seeking you out the moment you step into the daycare. they talk to you, they laugh with you. they show genuine interest in the things you have to say. they hug you and spin you around. they pat your head and pinch your nose.

and so you conclude, one night after returning from the pizzaplex, that sun and moon are your friends. a strange thought, you muse, to be friends with robots. it makes you happy, you admit.

so then why are you so afraid right now?

you swallow heavily as you try to level your shallow breaths, heart pounding a harsh beat in your chest. you need to calm down, you need to calm down or they'll hear you. their sensors allow them to pick up on irregular rhythms, they'll find you if you don't calm yourself. deep breath in, deep breath out. breathe.

perspiration slides down the side of your face as you hunker into yourself, curled underneath a party table with cloth adornments that conceal your form from the outside. you're safe here for now if you don't disturb the fabric around you. your legs curl farther into your body—squishing yourself into as small of a ball as possible. darkness surrounds your figure, interrupted by the dim light you can see filtering through the table cloth.

your right hand grips at your left shoulder, wet with a thick liquid that spills between your fingers and coats the inside of your shirt. it hurts, god, it hurts so much. you're confused, you're scared. you don't know what's going on—only that something is so very, very wrong. wrong from the moment you'd stepped into the daycare, and the moment you'd ran out.

your throat aches when you swallow, a dryness coating it like there are cotton balls instead of mucosa lining it. you lick your lips in a vain attempt to wet them and close your eyes to suppress the way your vision swims before you. deep breath in, deep breath out. you're not calming down, why aren't you calming down?

your heartrate spikes abruptly when you hear a slow, dull clanging sound somewhere to your far left. it's loud—getting louder with each beat—and makes you cover your mouth with your unoccupied hand as best as you can. something wet slides down the curves of your cheeks and drips onto your collarbones. you still your breaths and do your best not to make a sound.

the clanging gets louder and a glitched, warbling voice calls out over it in a way that makes your stomach drop down to your feet. "f-friend! friend!" it cries out desperately, static lining its voice. the word makes something icy coat your insides and seizes your guts in an iron grip. "w-where a-are you hi-hiding, f-friend?"

your teeth clench together so harshly you swear something in your jaw creaks. your eyes dart around, wishing you can see beyond the table cloth. but you're forced to rely on your hearing as the clanging—heavy, metallic stomping—moves somewhere behind you. "f-friend! we-we are s-so sorr-r-y for hur-hurting you!" the voice gets closer, like it's right on top of your head. "come out, pl-please?"

fat chance, you want to say, but you don't. your lower lip trembles minutely and your eyes catch onto a shadow that moves on your left. just beyond the table cloth. you don't move. you don't breathe. if you listen close enough, you can hear small clicks of metal against metal. little jerks and twitches.

a beat passes. your muscles tense.

a scream leaves your lips as cloth rushes over your head. the table gets flipped—thrown to the side like it weighs nothing—and you're left exposed to the chilly air of the pizzaplex. you scramble backwards, but feel something latch onto your ankle and drag you down until you're flat on your back and staring up up up. at the towering figure of metal and silicon crouched over you, three arms crooked towards you in a way like they are about to grab you.

its shadow casts itself over your prone form, interrupted by an iridescent purple that gleams across the pupils of its eyes—faint.

"f-friend!" it says excitedly as its grip tightens around your ankle. another one of its arms latches onto your uninjured shoulder while a third lifts its sharp claws up to wipe at the tears running down your face. "th-there y-you are! found you, we f-found you~! why did you h-hide from us?" its grin seems to widen and thins at the edges, voice dark with a static you've never heard before. your heart stutters in your chest, a sob lingers in your throat.

it's sun. it's moon. it's both of them. it's neither of them. it's your friend. it's not your friend.

you don't know who they are anymore. you don't know why them calling you their friend has turned that previously warm feeling in your gut into something much, much darker.

you were friends. you were friends.

you stare up at them and flinch when their hands tighten over you to bring you closer to them.

...right?

Yes please 😭✋oh god i beg for this

Not necessarily a request for a fic but I wanted to consult a professional about this question:

If we are talking canon Tomura, as in angry traumatized Tomura…what do we think are his kinks? Bc I want to imagine him with a mommy kink but that’s just me and it’s only believable if you really reach. What do we REALLY think he’s into (I’ll do anything for him idc)?

minors dni / NSFW

me personally? i love the idea of sub shiggy (thanks to you 😌) but canonically speaking i think he'd be very dominant and into bondage because the only (very little) control he has over anything would be his personal/sex life. he's taking orders from AFO most of the time so he's always submitting to at least him part of the time.

absolutely into orgasm control/denial because again, this is something he does have control over. i think he's also pretty much only capable of having rough sex and fucking the daylight out of you.

i reckon he'd also be heavily into impact play but i don't mean just spanking. i think he'd get off from slapping you across the face as also part of a humiliation kink bc let's be real, he's a villain and probably gets great pleasure from watching you squirm. i'll let your mind wander about what he does to humiliate you.

i need. More repressed shigaraki

Oh babe you asked for it and so yougot it 

Part I and II here

At this point, it’s been a few weeks, and Shigaraki is as close to coming to terms with his feelings for youas he’s going to get. That’s not saying much, since now that he realizes the trouble he’s in, that means he’s going to have to actually do something about it, right? Now, our boy is a man of action, but this? This is uncharted territory for him, and he doesn’t like that one bit. 

He’d rather go toe to toe with All Might than act on what he feels for you. Battles are a matter of strength, calculation, and strategy. Worst comes to worst, he could retreat and try again another day. But this? Too many variables, too many questions. Feelings are irrational and random, and there’s no way to calculate that.

Plus, if you reject him, it’s gameover, and there’s no continue. He’s not sure he could handle that. 

Afficher davantage

We got 2 different Tomuras today