Shigaraki X Y/n - Blog Posts

some random headcanons of tomura that i thought of

just like ochaco, he sleeps either with gloves on or bandages on his pinky fingers

i’ve seen many people say tomura would listen metal or heavy metal but i really think he’d prefer game OST’s over anything>>>

blasts bury the light at 3am

he’d call kurogiri at 3am just to tell him about his plans to kill all might

apparently he’s awake all day, having anxiety attack cuz he drank monster on an empty stomach

i think he’s the type of guy to meticulously plan everything only to have it ruined by bad luck

he’d occasionally pick on his flaky skin/lips

he has a habit of collecting figures, only to leave on at the shelve without looking at it again

if you’re close to tomura, he’d invite you to eat something tasty and then tell you that he destroyed one of your items

tomura is not the type to use bar soap but rather dispenser soap…that’s if you’re lucky enough he used one

he doesn’t use his quirk much and he’s used to only using 4 fingers

very competitive and mean when he plays against you in a PvP game

too mean he’s not giving you an ounce of hope to win

you got upset and he decided to switch to simulation games instead (he doesn’t admit this but he plays animal crossing to relax)

say goodbye to your personal space, this man knows no boundaries

he’s not shy, he’s just like a cat that doesn’t know how to express its feelings to you

*gets jumpscared in a horror game* “fuck all might, fuck endeavor, fuck hawks, fuck—“

your man is the type to pick his food off the floor :(

shigaraki is the type of guy to buy you the most luxurious & beautiful black nightgown while he stays on his creeper boxers

tomura doesn’t like to shower on his own, he likes the feeling of your fingers brushing through his hair 🚿🛀

(NSFW below this point:)

expect him to talkshit about all might mid-sex

i really think his hatred for all might surpasses his sex drive

prefers receiving and will be mean about it, he just likes making a mess of you

degradation & slight breeding kink

your boobs are his favorite pillows

he likes fucking you with the skirt on—

missionary & doggy 👑

call him sweet names during sex and he’ll melt under your arms

doesn’t like shower sex but a blowjob will do

i think he would be into somnophilia, only if you’re fine with it

Found this hilarious TikTok, that I love 

Attention all Shiggy simps come and get your content lol 🙂

Everyone read this right the fuck now

Why are you making me do this?

Shigaraki x Reader

Context: You give him a spa day to help him feel better :)

Comments and feedback are appreciated 🥹🫶🏻

The bathroom was warm and filled with steam, the scent of lavender bath salts wafting through the air. You stood by the tub, waiting as Shigaraki leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed, looking like he wanted to disappear into the wall. His crimson eyes darted away from yours, his shoulders stiff and defensive.

“Why are you making me do this?” he muttered, his voice a mix of frustration and embarrassment. “I don’t need you to babysit me.”

“You’re not a baby,” you shot back, keeping your tone soft but firm. “But you’re clearly in pain. I can see it every time you scratch yourself raw or flinch when you move. Just… let me help you for once, okay?”

He huffed, dragging a hand through his hair—a dangerous gesture considering his quirk. “It’s not gonna fix anything.”

“No, but it might help you feel a little better,” you said, stepping closer. “You deserve that.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, but after a long moment, he sighed heavily and tugged his shirt over his head. The fabric caught on his elbows, and you stepped in instinctively to help. He froze, the proximity clearly making him uncomfortable, but you ignored it and gently peeled the shirt away, careful not to graze his fingers.

When his torso was finally exposed, you couldn’t help but let your gaze linger for a moment. His chest was littered with old scars and faint scratches, his skin pale but visibly irritated in places. He shifted uncomfortably under your stare.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he muttered, his voice low. “I know it’s disgusting.”

You blinked, snapping out of your thoughts. “It’s not disgusting,” you said softly, shaking your head. “I just… I hate seeing you like this.”

His expression hardened, but you caught the faint flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. He didn’t say anything as he moved to unbuckle his belt, and you turned away out of respect, your cheeks warming slightly.

“Get in the bath,” you said once you heard the faint rustle of fabric hitting the floor. “The water’s ready.”

He stepped into the tub, lowering himself slowly into the warm water with a quiet groan. The tension in his shoulders eased almost instantly, and you could see the faintest hint of relief on his face as he leaned back against the edge.

You knelt beside the tub, rolling up your sleeves. “This might sting a little, but it’ll help,” you said, reaching for the washcloth.

His eyes flicked to yours, wary but trusting. “Do whatever you want,” he said softly, resting his arms on the sides of the tub.

You dipped the cloth into the water, lathering it with a gentle soap before carefully running it over his arm. He tensed at first, but as you worked, his muscles relaxed under your touch.

“Y’know,” you murmured, your voice light but tinged with concern, “I really wish you’d take better care of yourself.”

He scoffed, his lips twitching into a faint, self-deprecating smile. “Yeah? Sorry you have to look at me like this.”

You paused, your hand stilling on his shoulder. “Shut the fuck up,” you said bluntly, your voice firm but not unkind.

His eyes widened slightly, and you could see the faintest hint of surprise in his expression.

“I don’t care about how you look,” you continued, your tone softening. “I want you to take care of yourself because I can see how much pain you’re in all the time. I just… I want you to feel better. Even if it’s just a little. And if that means I have to rub lotion on every inch of your body to make it happen, then I will. I don’t mind.”

You hesitated, your cheeks warming as you realized how forward that sounded. “I just, uh… you know what I mean.”

A faint flush crept up his neck, and he turned his head away, his voice unusually soft. “You’re too good to me.”

The washcloth glided over his arm, the soft pressure coaxing a sigh from his lips as he sank deeper into the bathwater. You worked in silence, focused on cleaning the irritated areas of his pale, scarred skin. His muscles, usually tense and on edge, seemed to relax under your care. But after a while, he shifted slightly, his crimson eyes flicking to yours.

“The towel’s… too rough,” he murmured, his voice quieter than usual. “Can you just… use your hands?”

Your hands froze mid-motion, your breath catching slightly. “Y-You mean…?”

He frowned, clearly irritated with himself for asking, but he didn’t take it back. “Yeah. Just your hands. It… feels better that way.” His gaze shifted away, as if he couldn’t bear to watch your reaction. “Forget it if you don’t want to.”

You shook your head quickly, biting back the flush creeping into your cheeks. “No, it’s fine. I’ll—yeah. If it makes you feel better.”

Setting the washcloth aside, you dipped your hands into the warm, soapy water, rubbing them together to lather the soap before placing them gently on his shoulder. His skin was warm beneath your palms, and you could feel the subtle tension still lingering there as you began to move.

Your fingers worked in slow, careful circles over his shoulders, kneading the stiff muscles there before trailing down his arms. His biceps twitched slightly under your touch, and you couldn’t help but notice how lean and defined his muscles were, despite his wiry frame.

“This okay?” you asked softly, glancing up at him.

He nodded, his crimson eyes half-lidded as he leaned back a little more. “Yeah. Keep going.”

You let your hands slide down his arms, taking your time to wash each one thoroughly. Your thumbs grazed over the sharp ridges of his elbows and the softer curves of his forearms, your touch light but deliberate. When you reached his hands, you hesitated, carefully avoiding his fingertips.

“Careful with my hands,” he murmured, his voice low but not harsh. “Just… don’t touch the tips.”

“I know,” you said softly, guiding the soapy water over his knuckles and palms with the utmost care. “I won’t.”

Once his arms were done, you moved to his chest, your hands trembling slightly as they brushed against the firm planes of his torso. His chest rose and fell steadily under your touch, and you tried not to focus too much on the scars that littered his skin, or the way his muscles shifted beneath your palms.

“You’re blushing,” he muttered, his lips quirking into a faint smirk despite himself.

“Shut up,” you shot back, your voice flustered but not unkind. “I’m trying to help you, remember?”

His smirk softened into something gentler, and he let out a quiet hum as you continued. Your hands moved down to his stomach, the soft skin there slightly more sensitive under your touch. He twitched faintly when your fingertips grazed a particularly ticklish spot, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Didn’t take you for the ticklish type,” you teased lightly, your voice warm.

“Shut up,” he mumbled, but there was no bite in his tone.

After finishing his front, you leaned back slightly, motioning for him to sit forward. “Turn around so I can get your back.”

He obeyed, shifting in the tub until his back was to you. His shoulders were lean and angular, his back a canvas of old wounds and scratches that made your chest ache. You let your hands glide over his skin, your fingers careful but firm as you washed away the grime and tension that clung to him.

When you finished his back, you sat back on your heels, taking a moment to let your hands rest. “Alright,” you said, your voice soft. “Now, lean back again so I can wash your hair.”

He gave a faint nod, shifting until he was reclining against the edge of the tub. His crimson eyes met yours briefly before sliding shut, his expression almost peaceful.

“Don’t get soap in my eyes,” he murmured, his lips twitching into the faintest hint of a smirk.

“I’ll do my best,” you said with a small laugh, reaching for the shampoo.

The warm water cascaded over both of you as you prepared to move on to his hair. You grabbed the cherry-scented shampoo, a slight smile tugging at your lips as you squeezed some into your palm. “I hope you're okay with smelling like cherries,” you teased gently, your fingers already moving toward his hair.

Shigaraki blinked lazily up at you, his eyes half-lidded, clearly trying to relax. “I don’t care,” he muttered, but you could see the faintest flicker of amusement in his gaze.

You gently ran your fingers through his unruly, spiky hair, the soft pressure soothing him as the cherry-scented lather spread through the strands. The smell of sweet cherries mixed with the warm steam of the bath, and you focused on massaging his scalp, carefully working the shampoo through the tangled locks. You paid close attention to his scalp, where the skin was tender from his quirk, and you worked in slow, deliberate circles, the tips of your fingers pressing down just right to relieve some of the stress.

As you did, Shigaraki's breath hitched unexpectedly, and he let out a low, almost involuntary moan that echoed around the bathroom. Your fingers stilled for a brief moment, but you didn't say anything, instead continuing to massage his scalp with extra care. You didn’t tease him; you could feel the way his shoulders relaxed under your touch, and you didn’t want to ruin that moment.

“You okay?” you asked softly, not wanting to break the moment but also needing to check.

He blinked, eyes still closed, clearly a little flustered now. “Yeah,” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. “Just… don’t get used to it.”

You didn’t press the issue. Instead, you gently rinsed the shampoo out of his hair, the water swirling around you both as it carried away the soap. You reached for the conditioner next, squirting a generous amount into your palm.

“I don’t need any of that girl shit,” he grumbled, not even bothering to open his eyes.

You laughed, the sound soft and warm, almost comforting. “I just washed your hair with cherry-scented shampoo. Conditioning your hair isn’t going to hurt your masculinity, I promise.”

He scoffed, but it didn’t sound entirely convinced. “Fine. But you’re doing it, not me.”

You smirked, shaking your head, and worked the conditioner into his hair with care. You took your time, making sure it coated each strand as you massaged it into his scalp before working it down to the ends of his hair. His hair was soft under your touch, but you could still feel the dryness at the ends, the way it needed more nourishment.

“You’ve got some dry spots in your hair,” you muttered as you worked, and he grumbled in response, clearly uninterested in the details.

“I know, just—hurry it up,” he muttered, but there was a note of something almost like relief in his tone.

You didn’t rush. Instead, you carefully left the conditioner in his hair for a few minutes, paying attention to the ends, letting the treatment sink in. He leaned back into the tub, his eyes closed, breathing slow and steady, almost at peace.

“Alright,” you said after the five minutes passed, your fingers gently working through his hair one last time. “Time to rinse.”

As the water poured over him again, you rinsed the conditioner from his hair, making sure not to get it in his eyes. His hair felt softer now, a bit smoother, and it had a faint, lingering scent of cherries that made you smile.

“Good?” you asked quietly.

He opened his eyes, meeting yours with a mix of exhaustion and something like appreciation. “Fine,” he said, but you could hear the soft note of gratitude in his voice. "It’s better. Thanks."

You smiled, brushing his hair back away from his face gently. “You’re welcome.”

You stood by as Shigaraki carefully climbed out of the bath, his movements deliberate and a little slow, but you didn’t rush to help him. After all, he wasn’t a baby. He was still more than capable of managing on his own, and you had a feeling he wouldn’t appreciate the extra attention. Instead, you handed him a towel, letting him dry himself off as he seemed to enjoy the rare moment of being left to his own devices.

You couldn’t help but smile softly as he wiped himself down, his hands still tender but determined to handle it on his own. It was a quiet reminder that even though he was tough in a lot of ways, he still needed care, even if he didn’t always show it.

Once he’d taken care of the rest of his body, you stepped forward, the towel in your hands ready to help him with his hair. “Let me help with your hair,” you said softly, your voice gentle, knowing he’d probably let you now.

He glanced at you for a moment, a bit hesitant, but then gave you a short nod. “Fine, whatever. Just don’t make it weird,” he muttered.

You simply nodded, your fingers gently working through his damp hair, twisting the towel in your hands as you began to dry the strands. You used a separate towel for his hair, careful not to tug too hard or pull at any sensitive spots. As you worked, you brushed the towel through the wet strands, your fingers carefully raking through the hair that had been so soft after the conditioner.

“You know,” you said softly as you finished drying him off, “you really should take better care of your hair. It could be a lot softer if you didn’t just let it get all tangled.”

He let out a quiet scoff, but it lacked any real bite. “Don’t care about my hair. It’s fine.”

“Right, just like the rest of you is ‘fine,’” you teased lightly, making him shoot you a side-eye. You could tell he was trying to hide the soft hint of a smile that wanted to creep onto his face, but you could see it in his eyes.

You gently ran your fingers through his damp hair once more before applying some leave-in conditioner. The cool cream smoothed over his hair, helping to keep it soft and manageable. You massaged it in, feeling the strands more gently now that they were drying. After you’d finished, you grabbed the comb you kept nearby and carefully worked through the hair, making sure to detangle it without pulling too harshly.

His hair was in much better shape now, and you could tell he felt the difference as he gave it a few more ruffles, the soft texture running between his fingers. “Better?” you asked.

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, sounding a little gruff, but you could tell he was secretly grateful for the effort.

Next, you made a pointed glance toward the bathroom mirror. “Alright, now brush your teeth,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned against the doorframe.

Shigaraki immediately gave you a look, his eyes narrowing. “Why? I don’t need—”

“Shigaraki,” you interrupted, holding your hand up. “I’m not kissing you if you don’t brush your teeth. I’m not suffering through that.”

He blinked at you in surprise, before the corner of his lips lifted ever so slightly in a rare smirk. “Fine, fine. I get it, princess.”

You watched him move toward the sink, still a little sluggish from the bath but clearly used to the routine. Despite his general lack of self-care, Shigaraki did brush his teeth on occasion, and you knew he didn’t want to push it with you. He didn’t want to make it uncomfortable for you, even though his quirks and habits were, at times, less than ideal.

You waited patiently as he brushed, watching as he rinsed his mouth afterward, his grumbling to himself barely audible as he finished up. When he was done, you couldn’t help but smile. “Better?”

He gave you a small, resigned look, but there was a hint of a smile behind the annoyance. “Yeah. Happy now?”

“Very,” you said, meeting his eyes with a soft smile.

It wasn’t much, but the simple moments of care you were able to offer, even when he tried to resist it, made you feel like you were getting through to him in the most important ways.

As you stood by, watching Shigaraki finish up with his teeth, you couldn’t help but notice how dry his skin looked—especially his lips. It was obvious that he hadn’t been taking care of himself as he should. His skin, usually pale to begin with, appeared irritated in spots, with patches that looked sore from neglect. You knew, in that moment, it was time for some more serious attention.

“Alright, we’re not done yet,” you said, moving over to the small cabinet where you kept your skin care products. He turned his head slightly, eyes narrowing.

“What now? You want to rub some of that girly lotion on my face or something?”

You chuckled softly, pulling out the facial cream and lip balm you kept stocked for days like this. “You need it, Shigaraki. Your lips are dry as hell, and your face looks like it could use some hydration.”

“Not the face, babe,” he muttered, turning away as if the suggestion alone was embarrassing. “I’m not putting any of that shit on.”

You rolled your eyes, walking up to him and gently lifting his chin with your finger, forcing him to look at you. “Don’t be so difficult,” you said, your voice soft but firm. “You need this. It’s not just about looking pretty, it’s about taking care of yourself so you don’t feel like you’re falling apart all the time.”

He huffed in frustration, but you could see the reluctance in his eyes. “I’m fine, I don’t need it. I don’t care about that stuff.” He glanced at the products in your hand with a glare, clearly irritated by the idea of being pampered.

You were having none of it, though. “Stop it. You know I’m not letting you get away with this. You’re not getting out of this one.” You moved forward with determination, taking a small amount of the facial cream and gently applying it to his face, starting at his forehead and working your way down. His skin was rough, but the cream was smooth, and you massaged it in carefully. He grumbled under his breath, but there was no way he was getting out of this.

“You seriously want me to let you do this?” he muttered, voice low, clearly self-conscious. “I’m not some pampered idiot, you know.”

You leaned in closer, your fingers working in slow circles around his face. “You don’t have to be a pampered idiot. You’re my idiot, and I’m taking care of you. You’ve got to let me.”

His shoulders stiffened, but he didn’t pull away, allowing you to finish applying the cream. “If you keep making that sound all sweet and patient, it’s gonna make me feel soft,” he grumbled, clearly trying to maintain some of his edge, but the fact that he was letting you do this without pushing you away said enough.

“Good,” you said with a teasing smile. “You need to feel soft every once in a while.”

You moved to his lips next, pulling the lip balm out and uncapping it with a small click. He groaned in protest, looking away as you gently applied it to his lips, smoothing over the dry, cracked skin. It wasn’t easy—he kept trying to dodge it, his eyes narrowing in embarrassment—but you weren’t having it.

“Stop fussing,” you said softly, your hands gentle as you finished up. “You look way better when you take care of yourself, and you feel better too. Trust me, I wouldn’t make you do this if I didn’t think it would help.”

He sighed in defeat, his gaze softening as he let you finish. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, but you could see the hint of relief in his expression.

“Yeah, but I’m your impossible,” you teased lightly, brushing a stray piece of his hair away from his face. “Now, you’re all moisturized. You can thank me later.”

He didn’t respond immediately, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes—a mix of frustration, reluctant gratitude, and something a little more tender, like he was slowly coming to realize that this weird, loving care was something he didn’t mind after all.

You gave him a firm, yet playful, look. “Alright, go ahead and put on some sweatpants,” you instructed, “but leave the shirt off. You’re not done yet. I’m not finished with you.”

Shigaraki raised an eyebrow, a mix of confusion and mild annoyance crossing his face. “What, are you planning to make me wear a whole outfit or something? I’m not your doll.”

You smiled, the tease in your voice unmistakable. “I don’t need you to wear a shirt right now. Just go and get the sweatpants on and lay down on the bed. I’ll be right there.”

He shot you a look, still reluctant, but you could see the hesitation behind his usual tough exterior. “Fine,” he muttered, standing up slowly, his towel barely staying in place as he shuffled toward the other room.

The soft patter of his bare feet on the floor was the only sound for a moment, and you couldn’t help but watch him go, your heart skipping a beat. Even though he wasn’t showing it, you knew he appreciated the care. It wasn’t something he was used to, but you could feel the walls around him slowly coming down bit by bit.

Once he disappeared into the other room, you took a deep breath and gathered the final things you needed for the next part of his care. This was important for him. More than the skin treatments or moisturizing, this was about making him feel… well, cared for, in ways he might not let himself admit.

You walked into the other room, finding him already laying on the bed, his back propped against the pillows. His towel was tossed aside, his bare chest exposed but free from the weight of his usual responsibilities. There was something so unguarded about him in that moment, and you knew it was the perfect time to keep pushing him to take care of himself.

You walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, placing the lotion you’d brought with you beside you. Shigaraki didn’t meet your eyes, but his posture was slightly more relaxed. That was something. It was just a small step, but it was progress.

“Alright,” you said, meeting his gaze with a soft smile, “let’s get you settled, yeah? I’m not done yet.” You could see a faint glimmer of understanding in his eyes as you spoke—he wasn’t resisting as much, even though he still acted like he was too proud to let himself enjoy it.

You took a steady breath as you stood beside the bed, grabbing the lotion from the side and squishing a generous amount into your palm. The quiet tension in the room hung between you both, a mix of care, nervousness, and unspoken affection.

"Alright, babe," you murmured gently. "Lay on your back for me."

Shigaraki, always so tense and guarded, complied without protest. As he settled back against the pillows, you couldn’t help but notice how his muscles shifted beneath his skin. Despite the roughness, the dry patches of his skin, he was still incredibly lean, defined in a way that caught your attention, even now. You sat on the edge of the bed, ready to begin.

His voice was low and cautious as he muttered, "Be careful with my hands... I don't want to hurt you."

You gave him a reassuring smile, leaning down slightly. "I know, baby. I know. Don’t worry." You let your fingertips trail lightly along his shoulder, just to reassure him before beginning the task you knew would make him feel better.

Squinting slightly, you pressed your palm to his back, starting from the lower part of his spine, the skin rough to the touch from years of neglect. You poured a bit of lotion into your hands, warming it up, then gently massaged it into his back. The moment your hands touched his skin, you noticed the way his muscles seemed to relax slightly, the tension in his body easing under your tender care.

You moved slowly, deliberately, as you worked the lotion into the dry patches, your hands moving up to his shoulder blades. The muscle there was so defined—lean, hard—but you could feel the discomfort beneath it. His body had carried so much, been through so much, that it almost felt like you were massaging away years of pain and stress.

"Does that feel alright?" you asked quietly, your voice almost a whisper.

Shigaraki didn't answer immediately, but you could feel the change in his posture—his body was responding, the tightness in his shoulders loosening as you carefully worked the lotion into his skin. His head turned slightly, and his voice was barely audible as he warned, “Be careful with my hands… I don’t want you to—”

“I know, baby, I know,” you reassured him with a soft laugh. “I’ve got you. Don’t worry.”

Moving down, your hands skimmed over his arms, your fingers caressing the backs of his shoulders and along the back of his arms. The skin there was tough, scarred in places, but the muscles themselves were like stone, defined in a way that only added to his rugged charm. You reached the backs of his hands, where his fingers—so sharp, dangerous, and unpredictable—lay curled against the bed.

He visibly tensed. “I... I don’t know about this,” he said quietly, his voice edged with uncertainty. “Touching my hands, I mean…”

You smiled softly, leaning closer to his ear. “Don’t worry,” you said, your fingers brushing his wrist as you whispered, “I’m fine as long as I don’t touch all five at once. You’re safe. I’m here.”

He seemed to relax, just slightly, though his hand remained a little stiff. You carefully massaged around his hand, making sure to avoid touching more than four of his fingers at once. It felt delicate, almost fragile, but you handled him with care, making sure he felt the reassurance of your touch.

After a moment, you gently moved your hands back up, tracing your fingers along his shoulders one last time before moving to the front of his body.

His breath hitched for just a second, and you couldn’t help but feel a rush of warmth creep up your neck. Your heart pounded in your chest as you moved to straddle him, your knees gently pressing into the mattress beside his waist. As you looked down at him, you couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was—his chest, lean and muscular despite the dryness and roughness of his skin, was almost hypnotic.

You swallowed hard, your face flushing under the weight of your thoughts. His eyes met yours, his expression unreadable, though you could feel the faintest tremble in the way he inhaled.

"Okay..." you whispered, your hands shaking just a little. "I need to get your front now." You dipped your hands into the lotion once again, focusing on the warmth of it as you rubbed it into your palms. “I’ll take care of you.”

You started at the top of his shoulders, your fingers gently massaging the area, moving slowly to cover every inch of his skin. He was tense at first, unsure of how to react, but you could see the softening in his features as your hands moved across his chest.

You paid extra attention to his neck, the skin there often neglected, but this time you made sure to ease the rough patches, the discomfort. You took your time as you moved down to his collarbones, feeling their sharpness under your touch, and then along the front of his arms. You could sense the slight tremor in his muscles as your hands traced their way down his body, and you did your best to soothe it, working the lotion into every inch of his skin.

When you reached his chest, you couldn’t help but linger. You ran your hands along the defined muscles of his torso, pausing just to admire how his body shifted under your touch, the care you were giving him making him a little more at ease.

His voice broke through the quiet as he mumbled, “Remember my hands...”

You smiled gently, your fingers lingering on his chest for just a moment longer before you looked up at him. “Shh, I know. I’m not gonna get hurt.”

With a soft, almost relieved exhale, Shigaraki closed his eyes, and you returned your focus to his stomach. The muscles there were just as defined, firm beneath your touch, and you took your time massaging the lotion into the rough patches, letting your hands linger over the hard lines of his abs before smoothing them down his sides.

As you finished rubbing lotion into his stomach, you carefully shifted off of him, no longer straddling his waist. The moment you moved away, Shigaraki’s expression faltered just slightly, his lips curling into a small frown. You couldn’t help but notice how he seemed almost disappointed, and for a brief moment, your chest tightened with guilt.

His voice, quiet and almost unsure, broke the silence. “...It’s over?”

You blinked at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his tone. For a moment, you weren’t sure what to say. You hadn’t expected him to feel that way, but there was something almost comforting in the way he wanted your attention. You gave him a soft smile, feeling a warmth spread through you. You had never seen him like this before—open, asking for care, for reassurance. You found it endearing, and honestly, a little heartbreaking.

“Of course not,” you said quickly, reaching for more lotion. “I didn’t mean to rush you. If there’s anywhere you want me to spend more time on, I’ll do it.”

Shigaraki shifted slightly, his eyes casting downward for a moment as if considering. Then, his voice, quiet yet laced with a hint of uncertainty, spoke up. “Can you... can you go over my neck again? And my shoulders? Maybe my elbows... and my stomach, too?”

You smiled, unable to hide how pleased you were that he was finally opening up to you. You could tell that, despite his usual cold demeanor, he was actually starting to appreciate the care you were giving him. It wasn’t just the physical relief—it was the connection, the intimacy of it all.

“Of course,” you said, moving back into position, and his gaze lingered on you for a moment, something soft in his expression. You grabbed more lotion and began by gently massaging his neck again, feeling the subtle tension in his muscles as your hands worked their way over the rough patches, smoothing them out with the lotion. His neck was always a sensitive spot, but you could tell he was beginning to relax as you worked.

You moved to his shoulders next, your fingers carefully kneading the muscle there, giving extra attention to the spots where you knew he carried the most stress. He let out a quiet sigh, his body sinking into the bed a little more, the weight of the tension easing under your hands.

When you reached his elbows, you noticed the faint scars that lined them, reminders of his past, of the battles he had fought. You took your time, gently massaging the skin there, making sure to be thorough without causing him discomfort. His breath slowed, and for a moment, you both just existed in the stillness, the sound of your hands working his skin and the occasional breath he let out.

You moved back to his stomach, lingering there once more. He had such defined muscles, and despite the dryness and roughness, you could still see the strength he carried within his body. You worked the lotion in slowly, your fingers gliding over the hard lines of his abs. His chest rose and fell with each breath, the tension slowly melting away as you moved your hands gently across his stomach, giving it the care it deserved.

Shigaraki’s eyes closed for a moment, his expression softening, a quiet hum of contentment leaving his lips. His usual coldness had slipped away, replaced by something more raw, more vulnerable. For once, he wasn’t hiding behind his harsh exterior, and you could see it—the subtle way his body language had shifted. He was starting to trust you more, to appreciate your touch, and it was everything you had hoped for.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice softer than you were used to hearing. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

You smiled, leaning in closer to him, your fingers tracing lightly over his shoulder once more. “You don’t have to thank me,” you whispered. “I’m just glad you’re letting me take care of you.”

Shigaraki’s eyes fluttered open, and for the first time in a while, you saw something in them you hadn’t before: warmth, perhaps even a little relief. There was something about this moment that felt different—a shift that, despite everything, made you believe he was finally starting to let go.

"You're welcome," he said again, though this time his voice was a little steadier.

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his temple, letting the silence settle between you both. It wasn’t just about the physical care—it was about the bond you were building, the trust, the understanding. And you both knew it was something that would only grow deeper with time.

Once you finished, you shifted so you were lying beside him, your body settling into the bed next to his. The room felt peaceful, the air thick with a quiet connection neither of you had fully acknowledged before.

For the first time, Shigaraki didn’t pull away from you. His red eyes, usually cold and filled with that ever-present bitterness, softened as they focused on you. There was something in them now—a flicker of tenderness that made your heart flutter.

You lay there for a moment, both of you just looking at each other, neither of you speaking. It was a strange kind of silence, but it felt comfortable, like the calm after a storm. His presence beside you was no longer a thing to fear. Instead, it felt like something safe, something familiar.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he said, his voice quiet, but sincere.

The words themselves were unexpected. They caught you off guard. Shigaraki was never one to be openly grateful for anything, especially not for something like this. But there it was—his acknowledgment, his rare moment of appreciation.

Your chest tightened, and before you could stop yourself, your eyes started to well up. It wasn’t out of sadness, but something much more bittersweet—a combination of relief, affection, and the overwhelming feeling that you had finally cracked through the hardened shell he’d so carefully built around himself.

You didn’t know what came over you, but you couldn’t stop yourself from whispering his name. “Tomura,” you said, the sound of his name slipping from your lips, was soft, affectionate. You cupped his cheek gently, your thumb brushing over the scarred skin, feeling the subtle warmth of his skin against your touch.

“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice a little shakier than you intended. “You don’t have to say it back, but... I really love you.”

There was a long pause, a moment of silence where you held your breath, half afraid that you had said too much. That he would pull away, retreat into his usual, cold self. But to your surprise, his gaze never faltered, and for the first time, you saw him as something more than the ruthless leader of the League of Villains.

Tomura’s red eyes softened as he stared at you, and for once, his hands didn’t twitch with the usual restlessness. He leaned in slightly, his face inches away from yours. You could feel his breath, shaky and uneven, as if he too was battling with the emotions he was too used to locking away.

The words were hard for him, and you could see that. But in the end, he spoke them anyway.

“The feeling... is mutual,” he whispered, his voice quieter than before, but still heavy with sincerity. It was almost painful for him to admit, but he said it anyway. He leaned in closer, and without thinking, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

That small gesture—so unlike him—was enough to make your heart race. It was everything you needed to hear, everything you wanted. Even with the difficulty in his voice, it felt like a true confession. The weight of his words settled in your chest, filling you with a warmth that washed away any lingering uncertainty.

You couldn’t hold back any longer. A tear slipped down your cheek, though you quickly wiped it away, not wanting him to see how much his words meant to you. But he saw it anyway, his expression softening even more.

You rested your forehead against his, closing your eyes and savoring the quiet moment between you two. The world outside no longer seemed so daunting, not when you had him by your side—vulnerable, honest, and, for the first time in a long time, fully present.

And for once, you allowed yourself to believe that despite everything—despite his quirk, his past, his brokenness—there was still hope. There was still love.

Authors note: Not my fanart :)

Every one on my JJK taglist (my only taglist) is still on my taglist for jjk content :)

Let me know if you wanna go on my second taglist that involves a lot of different characters :)

@itsafairytalekay @sillysushi

I know you said you only might accept pregnancy requests depending on what it is so I wanted to try 😅 how about shigaraki and reader break up while she’s unknowingly pregnant with his child and he bumps into said child years later and connects the dots that it’s his? If you don’t like it feel free to ignore this request 😊

I liked this nonnie.

I am terrified that by saying that I’m going to be inundated with pregnancy HC’s, lol. But, this request I really leaned into. Plus, it’s more about a kid than a pregnancy. 

So, thank you for asking and letting me slip out of my comfort zone. It’s always good to do that every once in awhile and this ask was a great reminder of that.

It’s a bit melancholic, but I think it fits with Tomura, at least, in my mind.

Now, this is not in canon. This is not like, pre-war arc, or post-war arc. If anything, it’s more of an AU. I’d put Tomura in his late 20s to early 30s.  

warnings: none really, just some sweet, sweet interactions and mild angst 

Hestia Hestia, in Greek religion, is the goddess of the hearth, a daughter of Cronus and Rhea, and one of the 12 Olympian deities. When the gods Apollo and Poseidon became suitors for her hand, she swore to remain a maiden forever, and Zeus, the king of the gods, bestowed upon her the honor of presiding over all sacrifices. 

The shouting noise of children set his teeth on edge.

Toga had insisted that the bus stop by the school was the best place for the information exchange.

They won’t look for you there, she’d assured him. It’s like hiding in plain sight. Yeah, it’s patrolled, but it’s only an old security guard who does the rounds. Besides, he’s retired from the police force, she qualified, and was more like a lazy cat than an attentive scent hound.  

It’s the best place, really.

So, Shigaraki had made the long trek across Tokyo.

He kept to the shadows as he weaved his way through back alleys and streets. Although the dominance of the League had waned some over the years, he was still a wanted criminal, responsible for countless death and threats on hero society.

He was still the King of his slice of the underworld.

Besides, he reassured himself as he loitered by the bench under the bus stop, he could trust Toga.

She had improved in leaps and bounds as she came of age; deadlier, sleeker, more attuned to the ebbs and flows of the world around her. She wasn’t that girl who chattered about blood anymore.

Oh, she still held a strange fascination with the fluid. But she had more control over those impulses that drove her. If she said it was the best place, well, who was he to argue? Toga had been with him from the beginning, a vital ally. Hell, at this point she was close to being a friend.

Shigaraki is still musing when the ball taps its way to his feet.

It clatters against the pavement; the rubber shuttling it along the loose rocks and leaves. Unthinkingly, Shigaraki lifts his shoe to balance against its unbound movement, stilling its lulling bounces.

Must be from that schoolyard, he thinks, his red eyes flashing up at the low chain-link fence that separates the school grounds from the busy street.

There’s no child dashing their way to retrieve it, so he lets his gaze slip from the teeming masses of giggling youngsters. It’s a pretty blue. The ball looks new. Hardly a scuffed and battered thing.

He keeps it under his sole, toying with it, rolling it meditatively as he slips back into his thoughts.

“Hey! That’s mine!”

It’s a small voice that calls to him and he turns his head back to the fence, looking for the source.

It’s a girl.

She’s leaning against the metal, her hands clutching into the links, cocking her head inquisitively at him.

Her nose wrinkles at his silence, and she shouts another demand.

“Mister, that’s my ball. Toss it back.”

“Aren’t you supposed to say please?” Shigaraki taunts, his lips lifting in a quick grin. He’s not sure why he’s bothering to engage with this kid, but something about her plucky attitude resonates with him.

She leans away from the fence, that scowl deepening on her soft features.

“Aren’t grown ups not supposed to steal things?”

He laughs at her snark. He can’t help it. Oh, this kid’s fun.

Carefully slipping the ball into his hands, he moves closer to the fence. He can see her a little better now.

She’s still got that deep frown on her face and her dark hair is gleaming in the afternoon sun, some strands catching the light, reflecting a deep, auburn, hue. He’s just about to chuck the ball to her when he catches sight of her eyes.

They’re red.

Not that red eyes are unusual. There are plenty of people milling around Tokyo with them. But hers are different.

No, these eyes are like looking into a mirror for Shigaraki. They flint and glare with the same sheen as his own. It’s a prefect reflection.

His feet suddenly feel heavy, leaden, and he can’t lift his arms. Who is this child? Why does she-

“Ok, ok, mister. Can I please have my ball back? You’re still stealing it if you don’t, so I’m not apologizing for that. I might... if you give it back to me, cuz’ it’s my ball, not yours. And, stealing makes you a thief.”

She’s rolling those uncanny irises at his stiff form, and a huffing sigh escapes her small mouth.

“What’s your name?” Shigaraki asks, hands trembling over the rubber of the ball.

“Not supposed to tell that to strangers, mister.”

He smiles again, bemused. Well, he thinks begrudgingly, she’s a clever little thing. Whoever she is.

A sharp bell echoes across the yard and she turns her head at the sound, her dark hair tumbling around her shoulders.

“Here,” Shigaraki relents, gently flipping the ball over the fence, bouncing it to her feet.

“Thanks,” she murmurs, quickly snatching up her prize. Those red eyes of hers meet his own, and he can feel a low shiver echo up his spine. What’s up with this reaction? It almost feels visceral, like some sort of otherworldly pull on him.

“Sorry I called you a thief,” she apologizes, quickly bowing her head, ducking those eerie eyes from view.

He’s not sure what to say, so he continues to watch her. She doesn’t seem perturbed by this, opting to giggle at him as her little head lifts.

“You’re weird,” she assess, a smile finally spreading over her lips, her cheeks rounding and softening. 

Tch, she’s rude, but she’s also cute, Shigaraki thinks, snorting at her frankness.

She turns, dashing away from him, her dark hair flowing around her back as she goes.

Shigaraki shakes his head, trying to dislodge those lingering questions that keep floating to the back of his mind.

He’ll never see her again, he reasons, wandering back to the bus stop. Trying to tamp down the urge to look for her again, to pinpoint her from the other giggling and shouting children on the playground.

But he did see her again.

He comes back to the stop a few weeks later.

There’s no information pickup this time. There’s no real reason for him to even be on this side of town.

He just can’t get her out of his mind.

This little kid had shaken something within his psyche. He kept dreaming about her. Well, not her, really. No, there was someone else haunting his dreams.

He hasn’t thought about you in years.

But now? Now, he can’t get you out of his head. He even feels like he can feel you some nights, warm against his side. He sulks in the memories of the familiar touches that the two of you shared, the love that you’d pressed into him, so, so long ago.

He saw the girl in those moments. Resting in your arms as you looked up, your eyes bright against her dark head. The girl would laugh and run to him, those reflective red eyes shining with mirth. 

It was fucking strange.

He both hated, and loved, the repetitive nature of these illusions. They made him feel safe and warm, but they also chilled him to his very bones. It was unsettling.

Unsure what else to do, he’d back come to the bus stop.

It’s early afternoon. Close to the time he’d visited it before. He waits on the lonely bench, his hands pressed together and that strange tremble races through his veins.

This is stupid, he thinks, his eyes lowering from the sea of kids, all twisting and turning in a heap as they play. It’s an impossibility, really. The chances of that girl losing her ball again is minuscule. There’s no way he can call to her either. It’s a waste. He shouldn’t even be here.

He’s standing to leave, when that small voice reaches him.

“Oh! You’re back.”

His head whips around, his long white hair glowing against the sunlight.

There she is.

She’s gripping the fence again, and she’s staring right at him.

Shigaraki smiles. It’s a gentle lift and he can feel his heart tapping a rough tattoo against his ribs. He steps toward her, kneeling when he gets close, careful to not overstep his bounds.

He’s not wanting to startle her.

No, he’s wanting to talk with her. Maybe she’ll drop some kinda clue why he’s so drawn to her. Or maybe she’ll morph into any other child again. Plain, uninteresting. Slipping from that odd ghost that she’s become to his subconscious. 

He hopes it’s the latter. But part of him also longs for it to be the former.

She’ll hop to the fence around 3:15.

She looks for him now, used to the routine of his presence.

He told her to call him Tomura, and the name falling from her lips made his heart ache.

Tomura stopped by on Fridays. Careful to not stay too long, to not draw too much attention to himself.

At first, he’d sneak her little trinkets. 

A little plastic toy of his, one that he had since he was a kid. She’d squealed with delight and clutched it to her. He’d grinned at that, remembering how he’d once held onto the thick plastic himself. 

Once, he’d just plucked a nearby flower as he walked to the school, presenting it to her outreached grasp. He’d watched proudly as she tucked it behind her ear, the color glossy beside her hair.

She’s still a sassy little thing. But she’s softened a little, too. Her voice losing that early, untrusting, edge.

He didn’t ask her much. Sometimes they both just sat in silence as she sketched designs into the dirt. Sometimes he would listen to her chatter about her day. Her classmates, her teacher. Once, she’d even pressed something over the fence to him.

It was a drawing.

He’s not sure if it really was all that well done, or if it’s just his heavy bias toward her. But he loves the mix of color and lines. He’d asked who the people were.

One was her friend, Kenji. One was her teacher. One was him.

He’d pinned it to the wall in his room. Displaying it, flaunting the gift. He looked at it every morning, admiring her work.

He’s late one day, and she scolds him, her small arms draping over the fence.

“I didn’t think you were going to come,” she chatters, her red eyes lingering against his, the two colors casting back the same hue.

“Was running behind,” Tomura replies, leaning against the low concrete barrier, resting his back against the fence.

Her little hands reach for his hair, playing with the pearlescent tendrils, weaving some into knots and braids. 

He doesn’t mind.

“Hey, Tomura,” she says, working a tiny hairband into her creation, her voice curious.

“Hmm,” he hums, careful to not shift his head, not wanting to disrupt her hard work.

“You didn’t ask my name again. At least… not after that one day.”

“Do you want me to ask?” He queries, his pulse lifting.

He’d wanted to ask her again, but he didn’t want to startle her, to shatter these innocences that they shared.

“It’s Beryl,” she answers. She says it confidently, and he turns to face her.

She grins at him, wiggling one loose tooth playfully at his serious expression, trying to tug a laugh from him.

“Beryl?” he repeats, unable to keep that awed hush from his raspy tones. It’s a pretty name. It suits her, really. But it’s strange. It’s not Japanese. 

You hadn’t been Japanese. 

“That’s a good name,” he assures her. “But, it’s not… you don’t hear that name very often.”

“Yeah,” Beryl concedes, her vermillion eyes roving over his face. “My mom’s not from here.”

His nostrils flare at that.

He hasn’t asked her about her mother. He’s unsure if it’s a general disinterest on his part, or trepidation. He fears it’s the latter.

Gulping, he tilts his head at her, feeling that soft braid she’s plaited into his hair shifting.

“Who’s your mother?”

“Who is she? She’s my mom, silly.”

“No,” he pauses, ignoring that creeping tremor that’s working its way to the top of his skull, his skin prickling and cooling. “I mean…what’s her name?”

“Oh! Her name is-”

“Beryl! Beryl, it’s time to come inside.” A teacher is calling for her. 

Tomura startles away, drifting to his feet and pacing quickly back to the bus stop. He can’t help the snarl that etches its way across his lips. He’d been so close. So fucking close…

He chances a glance back at the fence and catches sight of Beryl. She’s dashing across the playground, her dark hair waving in the sun.

Japan is about to slip into summer. School will come to a close, moving into a long break. He won’t see her again for almost a month.

His heart sinks at that realization and he grits his teeth. Slipping his hands into his dark trench coat, he steps across the street, away from the bus stop, away from the little girl that’s feeling more and more like his own.

Edit: oh hey. so, i couldn’t stfu about this and created a sequel: Materfamilias 

hahaha & part iii

If it's not a bother, could I request Tomura, Shinsou, or bakugou comforting their s/o after a fight? They get into a small fight over something unimportant, but because of past trauma, their s/o takes it really personally and assumes they're either going to leave or scream at them? Feel free to ignore this for any reason!! I could just use the comfort :')

Oh sweetie! Come here and let me give you a tight hug 🤗 everything will be alright you hear me? Also, I have three gorgeous men who'll help you feel better ❤️

Title : Comfort

Characters : Bakugo/ Shigaraki/ Shinsou/ gender neutral reader

Genre : Angst/ fluff

Masterlist

Bakugo :

"Please don't leave me.."

Seeing your shivering form as you choked out your words made him regret everything that came out of his mouth. He never meant to upset you, and he should've known better than to carelessly start yelling and attempting to walk out on you.

You on the other hand, were desperately grabbing his sleeve, tears running down your cheeks and unable to meet his eyes.

He cursed himself and dragged you gently into his arms.

Memories of the night you opened up to him came stabbing him in the heart. He knew all too well how much pain and suffering you had to endure after being abandoned by everyone you considered family.

He remembered promising to never hurt you or leave your side for as long as he lived, yet there he was, about to turn his back on you after a silly argument. And it didn't even matter that he was just going out for some fresh air, you didn't know, and that's the main issue.

_ "I'm sorry babe, I was just stepping out for a moment." He whispered against your temple and traced your back reassuringly. He hated being the reason for your tears after promising to never cause them.

He kept you in his hold until your sobs finally stopped. You lifted your head off his chest and watched him gently wipe your tears away.

_ "I don't wanna fight anymore Katsuki, I hate it when we do." And it broke his heart to hear you uttering those words, especially that your arguments are mainly over stupid things.

_ "I know honey.. but please, don't forget that no matter what happens I will never leave your side." He caressed your cheeks and kissed your forehead, and then your nose: "I love you, always and forever." He muttered before closing the gap between your lips in a loving kiss as his arms kept you secured between them.

Shigaraki :

Contrary to popular belief, your boyfriend Shigaraki Tomura, the infamous villain, is in fact a gentle person when it comes to the few people he cares about.

Which is why when you recoiled, pushing yourself further into the corner, Tomura realized that he actually fucked up.

It was just a regular stupid fight over a regular stupid thing, and it meant absolutely nothing. But seeing you sheltering yourself in fear, Tomura felt like shit.

He never intended to raise his voice and he knew exactly the horrors you had lived through ever since you were a child.

_ "Y/n are you alright? Look at me please. I didn't mean to snap out I'm sorry." His voice was soft and warm. He wanted to touch you, to hold you close, but he didn't know if you were okay with it.

You lowered your hands and looked at his remorseful face. You knew he loved you, and you knew he wouldn't purposely hurt you, and most importantly, you wanted to be in his arms at the moment.

You jumped into his embrace and he held you tightly kissing your shoulder and resting his chin on top of your head.

_ "I love you y/n and I would destroy the world for you."

Shinsou :

Was it the first time you two got into an argument? No. Has it ever lasted more than a couple of minutes? Absolutely not. Then what was it this time? Why were you hugging him from behind and bawling your eyes out?

_ "I'm sorry, I was wrong. Please stay, I promise I'll do better." You begged him through your sobs.

His eyes widened as realization hit him, and he turned around snatching your arm and pulling you into his chest.

Of course you would react the way you did after he turned around to leave the apartment.

You never wanted to be involved with anyone to begin with, you were content carrying on by yourself after everyone around you had left. But he was different, he was good to you, and he made you truly happy.

You trusted him more than anyone else in the world and he loathed himself for triggering all your anxieties, even if it was the last thing he wanted.

_ "Babe listen to me carefully, I am yours and you are mine until the end of times, and there is nothing that can change this. I love you and I always will." His tone was calming, and his touch was soothing.. same as always.

You nodded against his chest and felt his fingers gently caressing your back while his lips traced your neck and shoulder.

You looked up to find a pained pair of eyes gazing at you.

You smiled lovingly and stood on your tiptoes until you reached his lips and captured them in a passionate kiss.

now playing…

fragile by laufey

↺ |◁ II ▷| ♡

tenko shimura x reader

“mist stop w all of the domestic bliss drabbles!” NO!!!!!! n e ways here’s post rehabilitation tenko :)

cw’s!!: gn! reader, bathing together (nonsexual), not canon compliant!! (he’s in rehab and staying w UR family :]), he is so emotionally constipated i luv him, andddd i think that’s it!! ^.^

wc: 673

“are you sure this is okay?” tenko’s voice is soft from his spot behind you. there’s a quiet sound of the lukewarm — not either of your preferences for temperature, but it was better for his skin — water sloshing when he shifted to hook his chin over your shoulder, his rough cheek lightly brushing against yours.

you know why he’s asking that, but you act oblivious. “it’s late, i’m sure my family doesn’t mind us hogging the bathroom while they’re asleep.” his arms unconsciously tighten around your middle.

“no, like-“ he lets out a small huff, cutting off his own words. it sounds like he’s about to drop the topic altogether just because he can’t find the right words, but he continues. you’re happy he’s learning to grow out of that habit.

“is this okay…? staying here, i mean.”

“tenko, my family really likes you.” he falters.

“i don’t understand how they could…”

“because i love you, so they love you too.”

his lips pull into a small frown at that.

“they can’t just ignore what i’ve done, they’d be stupid to do that.” there’s a lilt of irritation behind his words but you know better than to take it personally.

“they’re not ignoring what you’ve done. they trust you, tenko.” there’s always this annoying adoration in your voice whenever you say his new (old?) name that he has to stop himself from snapping back at. it’s not that he disliked it — not at all — but it just… didn’t make sense to him. it made him feel oblivious, like you were keeping a secret from him despite how vocal your praise always was.

you sigh softly when his brows furrow, your hand coming up to gently smooth out the familiar little wrinkle between them.

“they trust us.” you reiterate.

“well they shouldn’t.”

you raise a brow at that.

“why not?”

his lips pull into an unconscious little pout (a habit you didn’t dare bring to his attention even after all of these years. not out of fear of him getting angry — out of fear of him forcing the small vulnerability away).

“because obviously i’m still evil and you have some sort of weird stockholm syndrome that you refuse to acknowledge.” you have to bite back a laugh at his sudden petulance.

“no, baby, i don’t have any sort of stockholm syndrome.”

“see.” he grumbles, clearly convinced by his own astute observations.

you can’t fight the small snicker that leaves you at that, but you decide to humor him for a moment.

“alright, so i have stockholm syndrome. how exactly are you still evil?”

he thinks on your question for a second.

“i’m mean and antisocial and i dusted your brothers game controller the other day…” your smile grows.

“and i still hate heroes and i-” he continues for a moment only to stop when he sees the widening smile on your face. god, you’re so irritating…

“what?” he grits out, unable to hide the small flush on his face. he’d blame it on the steam from the lukewarm bath later.

“no, nothing.” his eyes narrow in suspicion.

“really, tenko, it’s nothing.” a small laugh laces your words when he continues glaring at you. he doesn’t say anything, expecting you to fold and tell him what’s on your mind with just a look (you would, of course. neither of you were known for having strong resolves against each other).

“it’s just…” you pause, contemplating how to word your thoughts.

“… you’re human, tenko. last time i checked there’s nothing evil about that.”

he pauses, considering your words for a long moment. he’s human. he has preferences and flaws and makes mistakes because he’s human — not because he’s evil. it’s common sense but it still takes him aback for some reason. how irritating.

he brings up his hand from under the water, pressing his wet palm to your cheek to push your face away from his flushed one.

“that’s a stupid thing to say.” is the only thing he says in response. you smile.

“i know.”

shigaraki links

shigaraki loves the way your throat clenches aroun his dick , you just look so fucking good that he cannot resist

shigaraki sees that you have been a good girl he decides to reward you

had a fight with dabi he need to take all his anger and energy out on you

shigaraki finally thinks of cumming inside of you , but when you cant keep it he spanks you hard

that night he was so close yet so fucking rough ugh

touchstarved!shigaraki who loves to be close to you while he fucks you

My Hero Academia; Villain's Masterlist!

Orange = Coming Soon

Pink = Link

Writing Submittion form: Here!

Tomura Shigaraki: Coming soon!

Toga Himiko: Coming soon!

Dabi/Touya: Coming soon!

Twice: Coming soon!

Magne: Coming soon!

Spinner: Coming soon!

Mr. Compress: Coming soon!

All For One: Coming soon!

Overhaul: Coming soon!

Rampa: Coming soon!

Gentle Criminal and La Brava: Coming soon!

Stain: Coming soon!

Kurogiri: Coming soon!

Other: Coming soon!