Honestly...both Blue Fire, Both Crazy Because If Dads..one Burn Himself The Other Could But Don't (1pts

Accidental Boyfriend Drabble: Want A Hug

You can hear him smile.

Every mumbled word carries the grin on his face over to you. You are on different sides of campus right now but you feel his smile in every cell of your body. It is soft, fuzzy and so warm.

“How do I get the aim window again?” You ask.

“Hold shift.”

“Hm!” You aim with your character and shoot down fruit that turn into ingredients for potions once you pick them up. “Hehe.”

“Good job,” he says.

You smile, “you're so patient with me.”

“You're fine,” he chuckles. “This is so fun. I like explaining it to you… over and over and over.” He jokes.

“It is,” you agree. “But if you keep smiling like that your cheeks will go numb.”

“What?” He laughs. “I am not smiling! Pff how'd you know?”

“I know,” you say softly. You picture him all cosy with the cat ear headset on. Your heart aches. “I miss you.”

“How?” He nearly giggles. You were together just this morning and now you are spending time with each other too. What do you mean?

“I just do,” you shrug. “Want a hug.”

Tomura thinks. He wouldn't be opposed to a hug right now… not at all and if you want one… well. “Okay…. Then I'll come over and give you a hug?” You asked for one afterall… why wouldn't?

You hear how he gets up. “Tomura–” you chuckle. “I mean… I was serious but you really don't–”

“No. I'm coming. Already on my way,” he says and you hear the door fall shut.

You laugh. “I'll meet you halfway.” You quickly put on your slipper and head down the hallway.

“Are we hanging up? We see each other in approximately 3 minutes?” He asks.

“No! I'll miss you even more.” You hurry down the path. Students are still lingering around even though it's evening and all classes have finished for the day.

“Aren't you being a bit dramatic?” Tomura says with softness.

“Not at all!” You giggle.

“I can literally see you already.”

“And? Stay on the phone with me… I'll be lonely.”

“You're being silly.” He says as you fall into his arms, nuzzling your face into his hoodie.

“I'm silly for you,” you smile.

“That makes no sense?” He squeezes tightly, feeling so much relief to his whole body whenever he is close to you.

You stay like that for a long moment. He just holds you. You like being close to him so much. The chemistry is just there. How could you be blind to it in the beginning?

What if you hadn't asked him that day but someone else? What if he hadn't misunderstood you? You are right where you need to be. It all happened because you, for sure, are meant to be. That thought makes you blush and you squeeze him even tighter.

“Okay… Okay,” he chuckles. “You got your hug… now let's get back to the game. You can make it to level 25 today.”

“With your help, absolutely!” You smile.

You nod and you turn around again, walking back to your dorms. The call never ended. You are maybe just 10 meters apart when you turn around again.

“Tomura?” You say into your phone.

“Hm?” He turns and looks at you.

“My boyfriend in high-school always made me feel like it's a burden to spend time with me and I had friends who told me that sometimes I am ‘too much’.”

He listens, not really understanding why you are telling him. He can't tell if you are upset… he is micromanaging even the smallest changes in tone and facial expressions of the people around him, so he never misses when he has made someone upset– it doesn't always work– right now he cannot tell at all what you feel. Did he do something wrong?

You suddenly smile. It is unlike any smile you shared with him so far. He stops breathing. This smile is so authentic, so raw and thankful. “You never make me feel like that. Thank you, Tomura.”

Oh.

Shiggy Drug Dealer to Yandere HCs

Yandere!Shigaraki Tomura x Fem!Reader (you’re 18+ but still not old enough to buy alcohol)

Warnings: Yandere themes, NSFW (drugs, alcohol, and murder), mention of erection, Shiggy wants you, controlling/possessive yandere, conditioning, characters 18+

Master List

Note: I’m not hating on anyone who chooses to do weed for medical/recreational purposes. This is just my take on Shiggy as a drug dealer who ends up falling in love with you.

@palesweetscherryblossom

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Just thinking about Drug Dealer turned Yandere Shigaraki.

He loves you so much that he stopped selling to you. He doesn’t give a shit about anyone else. He just wants you sober.

It pains him because now he doesn’t have a good excuse to see you anymore, but he still wants you to get clean.

He ends up stalking you, trying to just “coincidentally” run into you at some convenience store.

“Hey, I haven’t seen you in a while! How have you been doing?”

As if he doesn’t already know.

You tell him that you’re getting your drugs from Dabi now, and he knows, but he has to act like he doesn’t know.

Shiggy lies and tells you that Dabi puts fetenal in his weed. He tells you that Dabi mixes weed with a mixture of shit that could put down a horse.

“Imagine what that shit could do to you, Y/N.”

And you’re thinking about going to Twice or Spinner. You ask Shiggy about them because he really does seem genuine, but he makes up some shit about them being untrustworthy as well.

“Twice is schizo or some shit, and Spinner’s only in it to get girls high and then feel them up.”

You’re immediately put off by all three, and you pout slightly as you try to think of some way to just get some good fucking weed. So you ask him.

He literally sighs and looks away from you.

“Maybe…you should just stop. You…should enjoy your life sober. Stop putting that shit in your body.”

He wants to control you, but he doesn’t want to scare you. If you were his girl, he’d make sure you knew the rules. No drugs. You can drink if you want, but he’ll be there to supervise.

But you’re not his girl, not yet anyway.

You ask Shigaraki why he cares so much.

“Because…you’re actually a decent human being, and you deserve better.”

You can’t help but feel your heart pound and flutter.

You deserve better he says.

It makes you blush, even if it is an awkwardly phrased compliment.

You thank him and tell him you’ll think about staying clean.

However, when Shigaraki gets wind that you’re trying to contact some drug dealers around Japan, he can’t help but *intervene*.

Intervene as in kill them all. He has the power and the means to do it.

And suddenly, you’re left crawling back to Shigaraki on hands and knees. It’s a welcoming sight. You knocking at his door, eyes red and puffy from all of the stress in your life. You’ve been crying, you can’t stomach any food because of the anxiety, you can’t sleep because of the loud thoughts which race well into the night. You’ve been surviving on maybe two or three hours of sleep every night if you’re lucky.

The way you look makes his dick hard, but he pushes all of his urges down as he invites you inside.

No, he still won’t give you drugs, but he offers you a drink under his supervision. A little vodka shot. One. Only one. It’s not even half a shot glass. Basically just a third. It doesn’t get you drunk…

But it does take a bit of the edge off.

You do end up crashing at Shigaraki’s place, and his bed sheets smell like sandalwood and something synthetic like chemical spice, and his pillow is a little too thin for your liking, and his sweatshirt that he loans you is big and comfortable.

You fall asleep under the fleece blanket, not thinking as much, not feeling as much, so you finally manage to get seven hours of sleep.

It’s so good.

You don’t even notice that Shiggy is conditioning you. You, not being old enough to buy alcohol yet. You, only managing to fall asleep because of the tiny shot that Shigaraki supplies. You, feeling safe enough to fall asleep next to a warm body. You, waking up and feeling better than you ever have in the last few months. You, actually feeling up to eating breakfast, a meal you’ve gone without for a while now.

It’s all because of him. All thanks to him.

You can’t help but look at him like he’s your number one fucking hero.

Little do you know how much of a true villain he is.

Radio Silence - a Shigaraki x Reader oneshot

For the last year, your best friend has been somebody you've never met. When Tenko suddenly stops answering your messages, you don't know what to do. Canon, reader has self-esteem issues, 2.1k.

You’ve been avoiding your phone for what feels like days, but you know it’s been hours, or less. You hid it under a pile of clean clothes in your closet so you wouldn’t check it every five seconds. You muted all your alert sounds, except one. You gave yourself a long list of other things to do, hoping the tasks would distract you. But your mind always wanders, somehow, and it always wanders right back to what’s not happening. Every day for the last year you’ve been able to count on at least a message or two – and usually more – from a person you’ve never met face to face. And for the last three days, you haven’t heard from him once.

Tenko keeps weird hours. You know that. You know he goes dark for half the day or more at a time, and the one time you asked if he was okay, he went off on you for fifteen messages in a row. At first you thought it was because you’d gotten too familiar, made a conversation struck up in a Discord server into more than it was, but a week of shallow conversation later, you got a way-too-pissed message asking why you never asked how he was doing anymore. Tenko’s the king of mixed signals. You know that, too.

And at the same time, you know from the details he’s shared that he’s as far from okay as it’s possible to be. He’s sick a lot. He gets hurt a lot, and he won’t tell you how. Sometimes the anger pouring out of his messages scares you a little. And sometimes it’s validating, because you’re not okay, either. You’re angry, too. Sometimes the only thing that makes you feel better is knowing that you’re not alone in feeling that way.

You have been alone, though. The last three days, you’ve had nobody to talk to, and you’re angry at him for leaving you in the dark, for not just telling you that he was done with you. If he’d told you that, you could have gotten angry back, and maybe gotten a reason why he didn’t want to talk to you anymore. Instead you’re sitting here wondering what you did. Worrying that something happened to him. And then reminding yourself that nothing needs to happen to someone for them to want you gone. Everybody does, eventually. You aren’t worth sticking around for.

You knew that. You expected it. You just didn’t expect it to hurt this much.

You can’t avoid your phone forever. Eventually you need it for something, so you dig it out, and you switch on all the alert sounds again. You’ve been through this before, and no matter how much it hurts that the person you’re closest to has ghosted you, the world’s not going to stop so you can collapse in a miserable, self-loathing heap. Life keeps moving, even when you don’t want to be part of it. You have enough shame left to prefer walking rather than being dragged along.

The days begin to add up, and you try to force Tenko out of your mind. It’s hard to do, because you used to tell him everything. You stop taking pictures of things, because you know there’s no one to send them to any longer, and every time you open up your messaging app, you see the last message you sent him, hovering like a bad dream at the top of the list. It seemed innocuous when you sent it, but when you look at it now, all you can think about is how stupid it is. No wonder he stopped talking to you. You’re useless.

Your quirk is boring. Most people’s quirks are, but you’re also lazy, so you didn’t try hard enough in school to make up for being useless that way, and you’re not pretty, either – not that it matters, he’s never seen what you look like – so there’s nothing redeemable about you. Maybe he made better friends. You were probably only a placeholder for him. You just wish he’d had the grace to tell you that ahead of time.

A week becomes two weeks. A month. A little more than that, and although other messages have pushed your thread with Tenko out of sight, he’s still on your mind. You haven’t blocked him yet, even though you should. One night after work, you sit down with a bottle of vodka and a shot glass, swearing you’ll drink until you work up the courage. But before you work up the courage to do that, you work up the courage for something else. There was a while where Tenko was sending you voice memos instead of messages, because he’d gotten hurt and he couldn’t type. You’ve heard his voice, but he’s never heard yours. You’re going to make him listen to it. At least once.

You press the voice call button and listen to it ring three times before it abruptly disconnects. Screw him. You call back again, and this time, it rings all the way through and invites you to leave a message. Yeah, you’ll leave a message. Your message to Tenko is “fuck you”.

But when the voicemail starts to record, the words come to a hard stop in your throat. “Hi,” you start. “It’s – um –”

You forget your own name, like a clown. You didn’t think you were that drunk. “It’s me,” you say finally. The call log will show your name. He’ll know who it is. “I haven’t heard from you in, like, a month and a half, and I miss talking to you. I really miss it. And maybe I talked to you too much, or something, and that’s why you left.”

Your throat starts to close. “I know it might not be that you left, but it’s easier for me to think that than to think that something bad happened to you. I don’t want something bad to have happened to you. So it makes more sense that it’s my fault. I wish you had told me what I did, so I could fix it for the next person I talk to. If there’s a next person. I’m running out of lives on this friendship thing. Or whatever this was. Sometimes I thought –”

Sometimes you thought what? Even drunk and teary and pathetic, you can’t get the words out of your mouth. It’s too embarrassing. The only thing worse than wanting something is getting caught doing it, especially something that you should have known better than to think you’d get. “It doesn’t matter,” you say instead, and then you sniffle audibly, because your nose is running. Gross. “Anyway. You’re probably not even going to listen to this when you get it, and that’s fine. I wanted to let you have it about what a dick you are for ghosting me, but I couldn’t even do that. I guess I just – I don’t know. I hope nothing bad happened to you and you’re just done with me. I hope it’s nice, wherever you are.”

That’s a good sentiment to end things on. But of course you have to fuck it up, because you’re you. “I really miss you,” you say, and you know the voicemail recording is going to capture exactly how choked up you are. “I wish you had just told me, Tenko –”

The answering machine cuts off. You’ve been babbling so long that you ran out of tape, and somehow that’s the thing that makes it all too difficult to bear. You burst into big, stupid tears, your face in your hands, and instead of drinking more or lying down or doing anything that makes sense, you put your down on the table next to the vodka and shot glass and cry yourself to sleep, like you’re in high school all over again, learning a lesson you should have learned the first time. You’re never going to be someone’s first choice. You aren’t even worth a real goodbye.

When you wake up again, you’ve cried yourself out, and you’ve got a splitting headache to go with a mouth that tastes like vodka and death. You should also have a crick in your neck from sleeping on your kitchen table, but you’re not on the kitchen table. You’re not on the floor, either, or on your couch. Your head is on a pillow that’s a lot nicer than the pillows on your bed, and there’s a blanket pulled awkwardly over you. The air smells different, too. The mold-flavored air in your apartment is usually enough to send you sprinting to the bathroom when you wake up with a hangover, but this air is clean.

Are you even in your apartment anymore? You sit up slowly and get the answer – nope, absolutely not, because the room you’re in is a bedroom that’s bigger than your entire apartment. It’s probably the nicest room you’ve ever been in, if you’re being totally honest. Did someone kidnap you? Did you die? The latter feels way more plausible to you. You’re not interesting enough to kidnap. But if you’re dead, it feels kind of unfair to have a hangover on top of it.

“Finally,” a familiar voice says, from somewhere nearby. “I thought you were never going to snap out of it.”

You whip around fast enough to make yourself dizzy. The bed you’re sprawled out on is big enough that you could fit another bed between you and the person on the other side of it. The person over there is in a leg cast, with bandaged hands and bandages on his face. You couldn’t recognize his face even if you could see it. But you do recognize his voice. You can’t believe your ears. “Tenko?”

“Yeah,” Tenko says, like any of this is normal. “I was wondering if you were going to call.”

“If I was going to?” you manage.

“Yeah. You ghosted me.” Tenko looks at you. You didn’t have a clear picture in your head of what he looked like, but this definitely wasn’t it – white hair, red eyes, a face completely covered in bandages. “That was kind of shitty.”

“You didn’t answer my message for months,” you protest. “That’s what ghosting is. Not me not calling you after you didn’t message me back.”

“Whatever,” Tenko says. You know it’s him. It’s his voice. But you can’t get over everything else that’s weird about the situation – the way-too-opulent room, the fact that Tenko’s clearly been beat to shit, the fact that you fell asleep at the kitchen table and woke up here. Wherever here is. “If you called earlier I’d have come to get you earlier.”

He was waiting for you to talk to him? You’re tempted to look up ghosting on your phone and make him read the actual dictionary definition, but whoever brought you here left your phone behind. And there’s a bigger question you need answered. “Where am I?”

“This is headquarters.” Tenko shrugs, then winces. Is his arm in a sling, too? “For the League of Villains.”

You cough. “Or maybe it’s not the League anymore. They’re changing the name,” Tenko continues. The League of Villains? “Anyway, it’s a lot nicer than our last place. Makes your apartment look like a hole in the ground.”

“How do you know what my apartment looks like?”

“How do you think I knew where to get you?” Tenko gives you a weird look. “You’re here now. I’ll take you to meet everybody once you’re sober.”

He settles down on his side of the bed, grimacing as he tries to get comfortable. It looks like he’s ready to take a nap. He has to be joking. He just kidnapped you, or had you kidnapped, and he’s with the League of Villains. He thought you were ghosting him the whole time instead of him ghosting you, and instead of explaining anything at all, he’s going to take a nap. The anger you should have expressed on the phone call comes up. “Who are you, Tenko?”

“That’s not my name,” he says. “I couldn’t tell you my real one before. But I guess –”

He reaches over to a nightstand and picks something up, and your heart skips six or seven beats in a row. Not in the good way. The way where you’ve missed a step on the stairs and you’re not sure you can catch yourself before it’s too late. Your online friend settles the hand over his face and glances towards you. “Shigaraki Tomura,” he says, a crooked smile showing through the bandages. “Nice to finally meet you in person.”

He closes his eyes and falls asleep without removing the hand. You’ve spent the last month and a half tearing yourself up over being ghosted. It never occurred to you that there might be worse things. Depending on what happens when Shigaraki Tomura wakes up, this could all too easily be one of them.

knowing that i haven't slept last night and have a looot of insomnia theses day, that i'm overstressing and that i'm currently sick..yea please

self indulgent thingy.

Took a nap, had a fever dream, and this happened ;w;

I love them, Your Honor...

hi can i please request something with tomura (I’ve been seeing you say you want to write for him again lol plus i love him to so) like maybe something soft and comforting but also with smut in it?

hellooooo (*ˊᗜˋﾉﾉ

yes you absolutely can! thank you for giving into my current hyperfixation lol he has been on my mind sooooo much lately. probably in order to cope with what happened with the source material…

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“Inside the Open Window”

Tomura x afab Reader

word count: 2,000+

disclaimer/content warning: 18+ content! minors dni! size difference mentioned, soft tomura, some smut, some angst, established relationship, afab reader.

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The room, for once, is filled with honeyed light. You blink open bleary eyes and stare out into the shallow pools of morning puddling in swaying shapes on the floor, vision slowly focusing until you catch the lazy swirls of dust motes dancing through the air. You keep telling Tomura to open some windows, let the fresh air in before it gets too cold and you all end up even more cooped up than you already feel you are on the daily, but he’s stubborn about it so you have to sneak his open a crack when he’s not around. So far he hasn’t noticed. Maybe you’ll risk sliding it up a little further this afternoon.

Beside you, you can hear Tomura’s slow, shallow breathing from where he lays, one of his arms slung across your middle, elbow resting in the dip of your waist as you lay on your side, your back almost touching his chest. You find his hand where it’s carefully placed up near your own chest, fingers curled tightly inward even though he wears those two-fingered gloves whenever you two sleep together. You tell him you trust him, that he’s spent a majority of his life learning to sleep through the night without decaying anything while unconscious, but he says having your trust isn’t the deciding factor.

“I don’t trust myself,” he’d snapped one evening when you were pressing him about it, trying to come from a place of reassurance but inevitably pushing him a little too far. “You don’t understand,” he’d continued, after a short huff of a sigh and a trembling hand raked back through his unruly waves. “It’s just— If that were to happen, I can’t take it back. I can’t take it back. I—”

You’d approached him, slow and cautious, like he was an injured animal that looked vulnerable right now but, once within reach, might thrash and snap, bare its teeth and bite down hard. “Tomura…” you’d murmured, reaching out a hand, testing to see if he’d let you place it on his cheek. “It’s ok…” He’d leaned into your touch, let his eyes flutter closed, his next exhale coming out as a shaking, raspy whine. You’d gently pulled him down until your foreheads were touching, hoping that simple act helped to make at least some of his fear melt away, the terror pulling back from shore for a short while even if its return was inevitable. You’d let the silence settle between you two before you’d said, your voice barely above a whisper, “I know…”

So he slipped on the gloves, you buckling them in place around his thin wrists, and from then on some of the tension he held whenever he’s around you disappears.

The first touch is always the hardest though.

It’s always the scariest.

It’s as if he worries the rules of his quirk will suddenly change, that needing all five fingers in order to decay will mutate into needing only one and he’ll be forced to helplessly watch you crumble to dust between his destructive hands, frantically trying to gather up the particles as if he could use them to reconstruct you somehow, or maybe just to keep a part of who you used to be, if worse came to worst.

But once his hand— palm, fingers, and all— was safely resting against the side of your neck, he allowed himself to feel some relief.

Because, like that, you could be his.

Like that, he could hold you.

You stiffly shimmy out from beneath his arm, making sure to carefully lift the limb and set it comfortably back down close to him. You stand, greeted by the quiet crackling pops of a few joints, and make your way over to that cracked window. You glance behind you. Tomura’s still asleep. So you catch the lip of the window with the edge of your grip and pull upward, struggling for a moment before it finally gives and slides all the way to the top, the rush of sound quick but louder than you were hoping for.

When you look over your shoulder again, you see Tomura’s eyes are open now, looking fully alert in just an instant, though his body remains still and frozen in the same position that you left it, tufts of white hair hanging at odd angles in his eyes and over his shoulder.

“Sorry…” you wince, coming back over to sit on the bed beside him. He begins to stir, turns over onto his chest to push up onto his elbows, the tousled sheets slipping and exposing more of his pale back, the scars cross-hatching across the skin shining faintly silver in the morning’s soft glow. 

“You can go back to bed if you want to,” you tell him, feeling guilty for waking him so soon. You know he’s usually one to sleep into the afternoon and beyond.

He clicks on your phone, 8:15 lighting up on the screen before fading to black again. “It’s fine,” he sighs, turning over again to sit up, slouching over a bit as he rubs at the back of his neck, fingers getting caught in a loose knot in his hair as he combs it through, letting out a pronounced yawn. He looks at you as you shuffle closer and asks, “How long have you been up?”

“Not long,” you tell him. “Only a few more minutes before you.”

Tomura opens his mouth, about to say something, but stops when you both hear one of the other members of the League creaking around from downstairs. You’re willing to bet it’s Atsuhiro. He’s the only regularly early-rising person among you.

Whatever words Tomura was going to speak are reduced to a low rumble of annoyance and the clenching of his jaw, as if he’s just been reminded of something he’d been trying to avoid.

In this small bout of contemplation, Tomura shifts from beneath the covers and swings his legs over the side of the bed, bending down to grab up the bundle of black denim on the floor which unfurl into his jeans, fishing out his phone from the back pocket and turning it on only to be greeted with an abundance of notifications. Instead of reading them, he mutters something under his breath and tosses it onto the nearby side table, leaning forward to give you a better view of his back again. Now that you’re closer, you can better see the fading red scratch tracks that travel down his shoulders, though for once the marks weren’t made by his own jagged nails.

The sight of it takes you back to last night, when the room had been doused in silver instead of gold and filled to the brim with the quiet, lilting sounds of your combined pleasure. You could still feel the ghost of him wrapped around you, encasing you in his scent, his touch, his very essence as if attempting to meld you both into one.

But, like most things, no matter how much you tried to tell him he didn’t need to be so delicate with you, doesn’t need to treat you like you’re one touch away from being broken, he doesn’t listen. He’s so gentle, even as his hips meet the inside of your thighs and he drives himself into your tight, wet heat even deeper, as if hoping to burrow a new home inside of you, to leave a piece of himself there so you’ll always carry it around.

Your moans are perhaps his favorite sound in the entire world, hearing the way they break off into a clipped whimper when he hits that soft, spongy spot deep inside of you, his own moans choked out as your silky walls squeeze around his length, wringing pleasure from him in a way that’s both relentless and heavenly.

When you wrap your legs around his waist to pull him in deeper still, he’s on the verge of losing any ounce of control he has left, tempted to take your wrists and pin them above your head so he can pound into you hard enough to well tears in your eyes and have you crying out in a way that’s helpless and hurting and all his, his, his.

But when he looks down at you, sees that telltale trust that reflects back at him in your gaze, he keeps the more carnal parts of his desires at bay. Because, while he may take pride in being a symbol of fear to the rest of the world, if there’s only one person he doesn’t want to view him like that, it’s you.

When you come undone, arching your back as your mouth hangs open with a silent scream, that’s when your nails rake across his flesh quick and hard, not quite breaking the skin but bursting the blood vessels beneath, a speckling of bright red stippling the tracks of a slightly lighter shade.

He’d let out a hiss followed mere moments later by his own body letting go, a broken whine welling in his throat, the types of sounds he only allows you to hear him make. You’d forgotten you’d scratched him so hard last night almost as soon as it had happened, your mind glazed over with a thick layer of pleasure and saccharine lust, the world around you blurring until the only thing you could seem to make out through the dim dark of the room was him and all that alabaster, scar-covered skin sheened over with sweat.

Now, Tomura beckons you back into his embrace, wanting to feel the warmth of your body seeping into his one more time before he’s forced to rise from his bed and slip back into the cold, hardened role of being the leader of the most feared group of villains in the entire country, perhaps even the entire world.

You’re wearing his t-shirt, the soft black fabric oversized on your form, nothing underneath, the rest of your clothes still left discarded and strewn across the room in a trail from the door to the foot of the bed. Like this, you’re enveloped in his scent, and it leaves you feeling calm and sated. Safe. Like nothing inside of these four walls could ever go wrong.

But you really should’ve known better.

The moment you start to get even a little too comfortable is always when something rears its head to remind you there are no happy endings here. 

After a while of listening to your steady breathing and staring out the open window, Tomura works up the courage to say, “Today’s the day, y’know…” hence breaking the illusion that you’d be allowed to live in the fantasy of this haven for more than a single night’s rest.

You close your eyes, let out a long breath, trying to stay your worry. “I know,” you tell him. “I know, but, Tomura…” You turn your face up towards his, hoping to lock eyes with him, even if only for a moment, but he’s still focused on the window he rarely lets you open, furrowing his sparse, silvery brow in a look of intense concentration. Eventually, however, he does look at you, the intensity he held before melting away into something much more concerned.

Be careful, you want to tell him.

If things start to go wrong just get out. Don’t risk letting the heroes get their hands on you.

But what comes out instead is, “Nothing, nevermind…”

You figure he has enough to worry about already. You know he’s fully aware of the risks of this mission and the consequences that will follow if he fails.

So, for now, you allow yourself to sit in this false sense of security and serenity a little longer, whether for another minute, another hour, another day.

He won’t fail, you tell yourself as he places a kiss to the top of your head and smoothes down your hair, rising from the bed and gathering up more scattered articles of his clothing to slip back on before heading downstairs. He can’t.

You then regret opening the window. Perhaps, if you’d left it alone, you could’ve bought a few more hours of peace before the weight of responsibility settled in.

But, at the same time, you also knew that you were both on borrowed time.

Why not enjoy what moments of fresh air and sunlight you could get before it all was reduced to rubble and ash.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

18+, slurs

this was never supposed to go on for so long! 

you were meant to leave for that damned mission that your dear leader deemed so important nearly an hour ago. but here you were instead, locked in tomura shigaraki's passionate embrace at his office desk while he humped you like a street dog, proving that maybe it wasn't so urgent after all.

you thought he called for you simply to give last-minute instructions and perhaps just a few encouraging words since he was known to be rather unemotional, even with your newfound affection for each other. but this was way more than you bargained for! 

you knew the moment you walked in after closing the heavy door of his makeshift office that something was off. the air felt heavy between you two as he commanded you to come closer, deep red eyes boring into yours with unnatural intensity. before you had time to think about any possible way you could have fucked up, you were pulled into tomura's lap, your full thighs straddling his bony hips snuggly, making his croaky groan resonate through the room. 

"kiss me," he ordered, his voice calm apart from the remains of his still somewhat childish tone. like demanding candy or a pretty toy from a parent. inpatient. your eyes widened at his request, but never the less, you kissed your favourite pair of chapped lips, your heart racing with warmth.

by now, twenty minutes into this lip-sucking, biting, and grinding of your still-clothed cunt on his visibly throbbing boner, you were beginning to feel uneasy. it felt good, of course, especially since you were usually the one craving his attention. but your very boss was making it impossible for you to head out for your designated task, and it was about time you did.

why were you wearing a skirt on a mission again? just as his rough fingers traveled down your ass, curved behind the waistband of your cheeky underwear, and got dangerously close to your pussy, you decided it was time to wrap things up.

"grand c-comander, i- i have to go now; the others have been waiting for some time and-!"

he stopped you from finishing by grabbing your panties a forceful grip and then yanking them up between your pussy lips, making you gasp. his callused thumb moved to press against your clit, rubbing it in tight circles, never releasing the fabric and continuing the torture.

"t-tomura! it hurts!"

"now i'm tomura, huh? so you want to leave your grand commander with blue balls, is that it? hm, lieutenant?" his ivory locks gently fanned against your face as he breathed down your ear sending shivers down to your core. you felt two of his scratchy fingers inevitably stretching the entrance of your dripping cunt as he taunted you.

what was he saying? was your frenzied mind imagining things, or did he really decide to play this title game with his fingers stuffed knuckle deep inside you? oh, if only he would just bend you over his desk so you wouldn't have to think-

"t-toga and dabi-! they are waiting for me, they will know!" you half shouted and half whimpered as his fingers slid past your opening and in and out of you with little warning, his thumb making sure to abuse your poor clit at the fastest possible speed, making you whine. he didn't like what you said, it seemed. 

"is my little slut disobeying me? is that what i'm hearing?"

that was most certainly not true. how could you ever deny him? he was everything to you—your lover, your protector, and your king. you would kamikadze yourself from a cliff if he so desired! he was being so unfair making you choose between the mission and something so irresistible like this!

"o-oh, oh! no, please, pl-!"

feeling his sturdy cockhead bump into your now-exposed pussy slit, so close to brutally stretching you wide, you wiggled and stirred in his lap, the weight and thickness of his shaft making you dizzy. oh, there was no way out of this. he was going to fuck you raw as punishment.

"i don't want to hear that burnt bastard's name while i'm fucking my woman in my office. you hear that?" he hissed, dangerous fingers fisting your hair and pulling you to him, face up close to yours, teeth clenching as his angry bloodshot eyes bored into yours. your insides fluttered around nothing with fear and excitement of what he was going to do to you. he was going to destroy you.

"i am the boss of you. so they will have to fucking wait until i'm done with pumping this needy cunt full of my cum. the only way you're leaving for this mission is with your little hole filled until it spills."

that is, if you can still walk after this.

sakuracream, 2023. don't repost or copy my writing, minors dni.

FNAF movie Vanessa doesn’t know Moon’s crimes,,

BNHA ! Shigaraki Tomura x f!darling

TW: NSFW, BDSM, dubcon/noncon, captive darling, mean Shiggy, none of reader's holes are safe...

AN: on such a Tomura brain rot bender these last days

When you’re first taken, you learn quickly to never refuse him – instead, you try your best to cater to him any way you can, but often, you find he’ll punish you for any given excuse.

Try too hard, and he’ll punish you for lying to him – try too little, and he’ll punish you for being lazy. Do exactly what he says, he’ll punish you for having forgotten something he’s said earlier. Gag on his cock, you’re punished for being ungrateful. Cum, and you’re punished for being indulgent. Say you like it, you’re called a slut followed by him going harder – but say nothing, and you’re slapped for being a boring fuck.

You’ve come to understand no matter what you do or how carefully you do it, what Tomura wants is to keep you on your toes. He enjoys the humiliation riddled on your teary face and the way you beg him for mercy just as much as he enjoys flooding your guts with his cum.

He’s always searching for new and fun ways to punish you.

Standard posture is to tie your hands behind your back in a reverse prayer and fix your legs to your thighs, then roll you on your stomach – stuffing both your holes with a fat thrumming dildo and your pretty mouth with a cock-gag, making you mewl out all your moans around a fatty seizing all the space in your throat.

The hogtie often calls for a nose hook. Fixing one tight around your skull, pushing your little nose up into a cute snout befitting of a real piglet. Telling you to say oink around the gag in your mouth, red and resembling an apple.

You’re so cute after he leaves you like that for a couple of hours. All wet and whimpering like a bitch who’s been left out in the dog house on a rainy day. So grateful for the tiniest sliver of mercy – be it licking his balls or cock-warming him during a game. Being such an eager girlfriendly slut for him – no fight left, leaving you pliant and pet-like – cuddling him all soft and sweetly.

He keeps you busy when he doesn’t have the time to play with you.

Sometimes, he’ll lock you inside a crate. It’s dark and hard to breathe, and all your holes are stuffed with something so big you’re never quite able to adjust to the size – the rhythm making your swollen flesh go prickly and numb – but with the ever-changing unpredictable beat, you never get numb enough to be able to ignore it either. And while you feel you’re your jaws unlocking and knees scuffing as though you’re kneeling in gravel – so tense and so sore – you find yourself comforting yourself with the thought of being allowed back in bed, all tuckered out and sleeping on Tomura’s warm chest.

During league meetings, he’ll bring along a baby call, setting it down on the desk – caring little about the people getting sweaty around the table, listening to your muffled cries and squeals while you cum on whatever he has you stuffed with back in his room. They can all imagine you from those other times when he’d brought you with him. Wearing nothing but a pretty red collar fixed snugly around your throat, along with a golden bell that gave a little ring every time he made you bounce on his lap. 

You were so riddled with embarrassment from all the leering, squeezing his cock so tight because of it, he figured he ought to thank everyone by offering your mouth – making you crawl beneath the table on all fours, going from cock to clit to cock again until you’d rounded the ring and crawled back into Tomura’s lap.

Another position he likes is you on your knees with your wrists tied to your ankles – leaving your face mushed against the floor. You’re real pretty like that – with your back in a slope and your ass raised up in the air – begging for some cock or a hard slap. When he slots his fat shaft inside the puckering ring, bottoming out in one fell swoop, he places his foot on your cheek as an extra measure. Pummeling your poor butt raw until it gapes all cutely from his size.

He could never stop looping rope and making knots around your pretty body. But he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t enjoy it when you come around to it yourself – when you crawl after him before he leaves you alone in his room, your collar hanging from your mouth, those big eyes peering up at him all brightly as though silently asking him he’s forgotten something.

When he crouches down and fixes it around your throat, you chew your lip and shuffle your thighs together – all giddy. He tells you to open your mouth, and you do so widely, swallowing his spit without protest – instead with a smile and an ever-so-soft thank you.

It’s gone as far as when he commands that you make yourself cum ten times before he returns – he actually trusts you to do it.

Shigaraki x Fem Reader

Tw: stalking, mentions of Shigaraki having kidnapped and r*ped girls in the past, consensual kidnapping (idk, but reader is eager for it fhrhdhdh), reader is fucked up in the head, reader is way too happy with being turned into a pet, 'pet' as a term of endearment, one death threat (not towards reader), owner/pet relationship, one use of 'pup' and 'master', surprisingly soft, could be considered ooc, dubcon since reader falls asleep while fucking.

Based on something @zhongh-li wrote. The og was deleted, so here's the summary: during an interview where Shigaraki reads tweets directed at him, he comes across one tweet of you saying you would give everything up in order to suck his dick. This pleases him, and turning to the camera he says "You should have left your phone number, how will I be able to contact you? I want my dick sucked." (@zhongh-li 's version was way better, but that was the gist of it, now onto the actual fic dhdhsysu)

You had replayed the clip about ten times now. Eyes wide open, jaw hanging in surprise as you simply replayed the sound of his voice saying your user name over and over.

Not only that, but he had asked you to dm him.

Of course, it could have been just a joke. But there was a 1% chance that he was serious, and you simply could not let that chance slide. The only problem was: you didn't know his twitter user.

Of course you didn't, he was the most dangerous villain, he wouldn't be posting in the internet making it easy for cops to track him. You had to think. You were so focused on the fact that your idol had noticed you, that you didn't even stop to think about the ramifications of what you had done.

You had just publicly declared allyship to a villain organizarion, and your account had been broadcasted for all to see. The knock on your door later that day should not have surprised you. But it did, and you sweated and stuttered as men in black suits opened up the doors to your one room apartment, warrant in hand, claiming you were under suspicion of being complicit in the League's crimes.

All because of a horny tweet.

In the end, things got solved, as there was nothing connecting you to the criminals besides some scattered thirst posts you had made and some anti hero rants on your Instagram. Your claims could honestly have landed you in jail if you had a quirk, but a quirkless runt like you didn't pose any real threat. Still, your twitter account had been suspended due to "spreading propaganda" and all your hopes of meeting with Shigaraki were crushed.

Back in his hideout, he smiled to himself. Silly little girl. As soon as he finished filming that interview, he went straight to his computer to find out just who you were. After all, there was a chance you could be his type, how could he pass on the opportunity of getting his cock sucked by a cutie?

You honestly exceeded his expectations. While stalking you online, he figured it would be a troll, maybe a dude, or someone really old, or even too young for him. Instead, he found your Instagram, filled with pictures of your pretty face. You seemed to be around his age, and your anti hero discourse in some of your story highlights made his smile grow even wider.

By the time the video was released, he had already found your address, and had hidden cameras set all over your apartment. Online, you seemed willing, but who knew what would happen when he actually contacted you. That's why he decided to monitor you for a while, just to make sure he could get you in a situation where you wouldn't be able to run.

Little did he know that all his worries were pointless, as you were in fact more than willing to satisfy his every need.

He chuckled as he watched you replay the video time and time again, your embarassed yet happy expression at his reply was endearing, you seemed to really love him, after all. How useful.

You went to bed exhausted after being interrogated by those men. You mindlessly played on your phone until a notification on instagram caught your attention.

"You were so cute reacting to the video. But so silly too, of course the government would show up if you posted things like that. Lucky for you, cute, silly and willing to please are just my type."

You froze. Yes, this could be Shigaraki. But also, it could very well be a random stranger who had started to stalk you. You trembled, eyes fixed on the message at the screen. You didn't reply. Moments passed, and a new message appeared. A video.

Gulping, you pressed play.

A hand held a paper, your user name written on it, along with the sentence "is this enough proof that I'm the real deal?" Five of his fingers touched the paper, and soon, it was turned into dust. Your heart beat rapidly against your chest as you gasped in surprise.

Fingers quickly moving trough the keyboard, you didn't want to keep him waiting.

"I am so sorry for doubting you, I can't believe this, I love you, aaaaaaaaaaa!!"

"You love me? How sweet. So I guess that means I am getting my dick wet, after all?"

You could die happy.

"YES YES!! Please, please let me, I know I can make you feel good, please!"

"Careful, if you keep acting sweet I might just take you and never let you go."

Were you dreaming? Did God finally bless you by making your fantasies of being taken away from your shitty life finally come true?

Was it even healthy for you to be so willing to allow this? Shouldn't you be scared at the way he had clearly stalked you?

Some say love is blind, and that may as well be true, because you ignored every single red flag as you typed "What if I told you that I've been dreaming of being taken away all along?"

Palming his erection, Shigaraki was completely stunned at your behaviour. The footage of your reactions to his messages made it clear you were being truthful. How could a person so willing to dive straight into dangerous territory like that even exist?

You were clearly fucked up in the head, but then again, broken girls were always the kinkier ones.

"Stay in your room tomorrow, don't go outside. Message your family you're gonna go on a trip, say an ex has been harassing you and you need a break. Destroy your phone and your computer, and wait for me. I'll make your dreams come true."

You should be scared. You should be fucking terrified. But instead, you squealed in delight, hugging your pillow as you immediately did what he ordered. Bye bye, work. Bye bye, shitty apartment. Bye bye, boring life. Your prince in a white horse was finally coming to take you away from the confines of hero society.

When Shigaraki opened the door to your apartment, part of him still expected a bad reaction. He thought you would look at him in disgust, yell, fight back. The idea of someone loving him was just too forgein.

It didn't make sense for him to think like this. He had been glued to his computer, watching the camera feed nonstop, even neglecting sleep just to watch you. He had seen you obediently follow his orders with a smile on your face, heard the way his name fell from your lips when you slept. Yet he still couldn't believe it.

Which is why the lack of reaction caught him off guard. You noticed him, but you didn't scream. You didn't cry, you didn't run away in disgust. You smiled, softly whispering "finally..."

Fuck... He might end up falling for you for real.

"Come." Was all he said, and you did as you were told. You didn't bring anything with you, just the clothes on your body. You obediently allowed Spinner to blindfold you, as he explained it would be dangerous to have you see throughout the car ride, since it would give away their exact location.

Shigaraki had pets before. He knew how to break down a girl and how to deal with them fighting back. He was used to being called all sorts of names as he tried to get them to understand their position. After a bout a year, they would finally be perfectly broken. But you? You were more obedient than any of the girls he tortured, and he hadn't even laid a finger on you yet.

The others couldn't hide their surprise when you asked for permission to speak. You thanked Shigaraki as soon as he allowed you, saying that you were really happy that he had allowed you to be in his presence.

Indeed, you were. You weren't a villain, but not by choice. By the time you were a teen, you were already filled with hatred for the hero world, swearing to yourself that if only you had a quirk, then you'd make everyone pay. Being allowed to be in Shigaraki's presence truly felt like a blessing.

"Quirkless, huh? Poor little thing. Don't worry, pet, If you're good to me, I'll give you one."

That was too good to be true. Embarassed, you stammered "N-no, please, someone as lowly as me is grateful just being allowed near you, t-that's too much..."

You couldn't see the smile on his face.

"You just earned yourself a treat."

The car stopped, and people started touching you. You didn't fight back, as you allowed them to carry you into what you assumed were the hideout. Many voices could be heard. A girl squealed "Am I getting a new dolly?"

A man whisteled "Good one, boss. Can I fuck her later?"

You didn't have time to frown, as Shigaraki's voice echoed trough the room "If you even breathe near her I'll fucking kill you."

You smiled, you felt safe.

Finally, you heard a door closing, and the blindfold came off. The blinds were closed, and the lights turned off. Computer monitors were the only source of light, blue light illuminating your idol's face. He sat on a chair, red eyes looking down on you as he smiled.

"Time to play, pet."

You didn't waste time, immediately moving your hands towards his sweatpants. You looked deranged, and Shigaraki figured that that was a great word to describe you. After all, only someone sick would act like this.

Drool fell from your mouth as you asked "Am I really allowed? Can I really? Are you sure?"

Four fingers pressed against your head, pushing you to his erection. "Less talking, more sucking."

With a smile on your face, you took his cock out of his underwear, marveling at it. Any normal person would be disgusted at the lack of grooming Shigaraki practiced, but not you. You took his lenght in your mouth, bitter taste flooding you as your eyes teared up. It should have grossed you out, and yet, it didn't.

You took it all in, no regards for your own safety as you choked on it, forcing yourself to swallow every bit of skin, even if it meant you couldn't breathe. His balls slapped against your chin as you moved, his musk invading your nostrils, every sensation driving you crazy.

You were so focused on doing good, you didn't even realize how Shigaraki panted and moaned, body shivering with every swipe of your tongue, mind blown as he never had someone so willing to please him like this. He was going to cum soon, and he didn't care.

Eight fingers grabbing onto your neck, dry, bruised skin rough against your softness, overgrown nails digging into you as warm white liquid filled your throat. He took his cock out, and marveled at how you moaned in delight upon tasting his seed, drinking every single drop he had given to you.

You bowed. You fucking bowed, like the obedient little pup he had come to learn you were, and thanked him for allowing you to suck him off. Fuck, it was like you were the personification of every single one of his fantasies.

His face flushed bright red, as he finally allowed himself to express how he felt inside, safe in the privacy of his own room. You kept your head on the ground, waiting for an order. "G-get up..." He mumbled, still taken aback by your every action.

You smiled to him, adoration in your eyes as you looked at him. Putting on his tough guy act again, he scoffed. "My lap, now. Gonna reward you for being good."

You squelaed, immediately sitting between his thighs. His hands wandered trough your body, pinky fingers always away from your soft skin as he groped you all over, your mewls music to his ears.

He pinched your nipples, making you cry out his name, quivering lips and teary eyes looking up at him, making him feral. Damp cloth grinded against him, your arousal evident as you desperatly chased your high.

Your master was benevolent, undressing you, and filling your needy little hole with his cock. Your walls clenched as you took him in, repeating "thank you" over and over as your legs shook, laying soft kisses in every part of him you could reach.

His cock twitched, no one had ever touched him like that, with love, with need. He barely had to move, your needy body moving up and down, moving on his cock as you moaned, putting on a show for him. You felt exhausted, not used to moving your body that much, but for Shigaraki, it felt needed. He shouldn't have to do any work, it was your job to please him.

Soon, you were creaming on his erection, panting as you clung to him, conscious fading as physical exhaustion took over. One arm held you in position as he thrusted a couple more times, reaching his own orgasm while pulling you flush against him.

Your unconscious state allowing him to be vulnerable, chapped lips brushed against your cheeks as he held you close, an affectionate smile on his face as he closed his eyes, letting himself sleep, his cock still buried inside of you.

Ungrateful

Yandere!Tomura Shigaraki x afab!Reader CW: yandere, kidnapping, heavily implied depression, angsty, nonconsensual sex, pain

NSFW - MDI

---

Plush duvet under your back, limbs sprawled over the bed, you continue listlessly staring at the blank ceiling. Ambient music plays in the background, accompanied by Tomura's heavy breaths and barely audible clicks of his controller's buttons. Occasionally, you were graced with frustrated curses or insults. Watching him play had grown tiring long ago, not that the ceiling was any more interesting. In a previous time, you played together, but even video games required more energy and motivation than you possessed now.

A strangled, annoyed groan pulled your gaze instinctively, allowing you to see him carelessly discard his controller before standing up, bones cracking loudly, and turning to you, scowling. Dread settles itself in your stomach as he approaches you. Ironic; he used to make you so happy, but it seemed the more lethargic you grew, the more aggressive he became. He looks you over, displeased. “Move over." Gathering the little energy you had, you collect your limbs and shuffle over to make room for him. He flops down next to you, bouncing you both slightly. His gaze burns into you, unimpressed with the distant look in your tired eyes. He gunts, deciding to finally address your condition after days, if not weeks, of refusing to confront the change in your attitude and behaviour. “Why are you like this?" Not answering will only anger him, so you push yourself through your exhaustion to reply, not bothering to properly pronounce your words. “… Ev'rythin' seems poin'less… barely feel anythin' anymore." Discontent with your answer, his brows furrow before a predatory grin breaks across his face and he sits up to leer over you. “You wanna feel somethin, huh? Wanna do something with a purpose?"

His gaze is malicious as a hand touches your t-shirt, disintegrating it. Without it, his skin is clammy and rough against yours. Braless, as the only clothes he gave you were t-shirts and shorts, you are exposed to his greedy eyes. Disgusted, you look away as his hand grabs your chest. Since your imprisonment, you had suspicions he would do this, but you ignored them, wanting to hold onto the memory of him as your friend, even if he had acted questionably.

Longing for the past, you are dragged from your thoughts by a harsh squeeze to your breast as he slings a leg over your hips, looming over you. Glancing at his face, his expression is almost ecstatic, causing a chill to ripple down your spine. Dropping his head, Tomura licks a long, slimy stripe along your neck, prompting you to cringe. He shows no indication of noticing, much less caring. Instead, he roughly grabs your face with his free hand, cementing you in place as he plants his chapped lips against yours, immediately trying to force his tongue into your mouth. He succeeds when you gasp in pain due to his fingers digging mercilessly into the plush of your chest. Repulsed, desperate to remove his tongue from your throat, you wish you had the will to fight back. Not that it would help much, he would simply overpower you. Shame and regret weigh heavy on your heart.

Tomura starts grinding his hips down into you, adding to your revulsion. Pulling away, he lets go of your face, and you relish the absence of his tongue, until he shifts to kneeling over you and touches your shorts, rendering you naked. “Turn over." His voice is raspy and commanding, and despite the implications of his request, you obey, grateful you no longer have to face him. His weight leaves the bed momentarily, but returns quickly as he hastily pushes your legs far enough apart to place himself between them, then he descends upon you again; slobbering and panting against your neck as his hips shallowly hump your ass, chest laying on your back. Horrified, you realise he is bare, save for his boxers; the thin layer of fabric the only barrier between his thick cock and your vulnerable butt. Both his arms snake under you; one hand entertains itself by once more ruthlessly groping your chest while his other hand travels between your thighs, inexperienced fingers flumbling as they explore. Stomach turning, you feel nauseous. Reaching your pussy, his fingers find no evidence of arousal, causing Tomura to grunt, annoyed. “What, you don't want me? Get wet, or it's gonna hurt us both." He's frowning, and his breath irritates your ear.

Continuing to unskillfully prod and poke around, he finally grazes your clit, making you jolt and him grin, entirely too proud of himself. Harshly pressing the tough pads of his fingers against the bundle of nerves, paired with the movement caused by his depraved grinding, and pawing at your chest, forces your body to respond, involuntarily readying yourself for him. Overcome with panic, at long last, you gain the will to protest, voice shaky as tears threaten to form. “Tomura, pleas' stop, I don' wan' this…!" “Shut up, you fuckin' ingrate," he sounds offended, an edge to his words. “I'm doing this for you; make you feel something good, give you some meaning. Be more thankful." Fueled by anger, or perhaps impatience, he kneels behind you and rids himself of his boxers before grabbing your hips with both his hands, lifting you up onto your knees while your upper body remains on the bed, hiding your face as your eyes brimmed with tears.

After lining himself up, he pushes into your cunt, his cock hot and far too big for how little prepared you are. In response to the splitting pain, you cry out; it almost feels like he's tearing you apart. Seemingly, your whines only serve to excite him, as his pants deepen and he thrusts harder into you, desperate to bottom out. When he does, his dick poking painfully at your cervix, you're sobbing, and grabbing at the sheets in agony. You're almost definitely bleeding. “Fuck, you're so tight…!" His voice is strained, and as he finishes speaking, a cool liquid lands on your back. Nausea flares up as you realise he's drooling on you. Allowing you only a moment to adjust, he begins moving too soon, evoking more cries and muffled screams. Mercifully, one of his hands relocates your clit, rubbing it in tight circles. Pleasure helps distract you from the horrible ache, and slowly causes your pussy to get wetter, until eventually you're slick enough that Tomura's thrusts speed up, and your sobs gradually morph into small, shameful moans.

Without looking, you know he's smirking, even through his groans and curses. Every time he opens his mouth, more drool falls onto you, but you're too clouded by forced pleasure to pay much attention anymore. Unprompted, Tomura leans down, pressing against your back, returning his mouth to your neck, heavy pants loud in your ear, and the hand that had been keeping your hips in place slid under you, once again desperately squeezing your chest. From the new angle, he managed to hit somewhere that showed you stars, causing you to clench around him, in turn making him grunt, drool over your neck, and start to jackrabbit into you. Repeatedly pounding your sweet spot while continuously circling your clit, the white-hot coil that had built up inside you snaps, making your cunt tighten around his cock, involuntarily moaning loudly as you come. Fucking you through your orgasm, Tomura follows you soon after, mumbling nonsense in your ear while saliva floods from his mouth. Horror fills you as he does, disgusted, ashamed, and regretful. He stays inside you, regaining his breath. “Don't you feel so much better now?" He brushes his wet lips against your cheek, nearly lovingly, before he pushes you down from your knees, lying on top of you until he rolls the both of you onto your sides, holding you from behind. He still doesn't pull out.

Cruelly, feelings are abundant now.