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#bnha shigaraki tomura
blazeandrosemain · 1 year
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I miss him dearly </3 loser s1 shigaraki you hold a special place in my silly little heart
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little-lain · 2 months
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hii!! I ws wonderin if I could request general caregiver!tomura shigaraki headcanons?
- @drowsysaint
CG!Tomura Shigaraki HCs
A/N: Omggg i love shigaraki!! Definitely one of my favs from mha, and while personally i see him as a little, he definitely would be an amazing cg as well!!
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☆ When he finds out you're a little, he doesn't know exactly what it means
☆ Of course, he tries to listen and attempt to understand still
☆ Eventually he gets it (or so he thinks), and he wants to see it in action! He's already very pumped up :3
☆ However, when he does see it, he quickly learns he is NOT prepared
☆ But with enough time and prep (aka getting little gear and researching), he'll learn!
☆ As a cg, I feel like he'd be very caring, and maybe even a little overprotective
☆ He's definitely gonna steal buy everything you want!After all, he wants to make sure you're comfy and happy! (Even if it's a bit overboard)
☆ His favorite activity to do with you is playing with toys and stuff like that. He looks forward to it after every single mission!
☆ Speaking of missions, he is not allowing you on missions basically ever. He can't risk anything happening to his baby!
☆ His favorite names for you depend, sometimes it's baby all day, other time its sweetheart
☆ He's more of a older brother cg, so just calling him bro is enough for him! But he definitely doesn't decline being called papa or daddy or anything!
☆ At the end of a long day filled with playing and running around, he loves to just lay down and hold you close to him
☆ Whether it's you guys just watching a movie, listening to music, or just listening to each others heartbeats, it's his second favorite part of the day
☆ If you ask for it, he'll sing a lullaby or read a story just for you
☆ Once he knows you're asleep and letting out small snores, he'll give a gentle kiss on your forehead and hold you close,,
゚₊‧ ꒰ა ✧ ໒꒱ ‧₊ ゚
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I feel like he'd actually do this😶
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mornlucc · 1 year
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i miss tomura sm 💔
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anyways, back to studying now bye 👋
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NEVER will I ever understand how anyone can think this man, no, this God is ugly.
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sukustar · 1 year
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BNHA 384
They look so...
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Yes, I barely see the chapter and what? 😾
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nonobadcat · 1 year
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A real world AU Gothic Romance - part 2/3
Artwork by the amazing @obsidianne-art
Pairing: Ghost Shigaraki X Fem!Reader
Rating: Readers 18+ only
Content Warnings: Dead dog mention, PnO, V/oy with stalker vibes, self-care of an adult nature, mentions of a rich family being jerks to working class Reader
Chapter Two Word Count: 3.9k, Ao3 Mirror
Part I ---❤--- Part 3
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Saturday, October 22nd, 2022
Slamming the door of your ten year old car, you ducked your head under one arm and raced through the cold, October rain. By the time the front door banged shut, wet tendrils of wild hair were plastered to your skin. Wiping your forehead, you kicked off your muddy shoes and threw your patched, Carhartt coat over the grand newel at the front of the stairs.
Making a fake mouth with your hand, you mimicked a nasally whine. “Do you really need to go in and out so many times? You’re letting the cold in! Jayden-Breydon-Ashton-Trenton will get pneumonia and his lungs will be damaged. If my perfect child can’t win at every sport known to man because of you, I'll sue! My husband’s a lawyer! Our congressman will hear about this!” Your tool bag thumped to the floor as you trudged up the stairs grumbling to yourself. “Yeah, and your Karen nonsense is gonna pay quadruple time before I go out at seven on a Saturday cause your dumb brat flushed his plastic army men down the toilet. Again!”
As you turned the final step, your dominant hand’s pointer finger caught on the rail, forcing the already injured digit back a painful 190 degrees. A stream of violent curses poured from your mouth, dripping onto the antique banister with enough acidic bite to melt the finish. Peeling off the plastic Pokémon bandaid, you glared at the inch long slice down the inside of your knuckle. 
“Friggen yuppie bedroom communities and their cookie cutter, spliced together McMansions!” you grumbled, slamming a flat palm into the bedroom door. It banged open, bouncing off the newly installed spring stopper before sliding to a halt. Ripping off your coveralls, you tossed the filthy, muck soaked mess into the plastic basket marked “Work Clothes” in half erased black sharpie. “Small wonder the plumbing is always clogged. The builder did such a junk job that crap rolls up the pipes! Another Bryane Homes special!”
Flinging your undergarments to the creamy, hex tile floor, you flipped on the shower, listening to the old pipes thump twice before water finally emerged. Air in the lines again, huh? Looks like this weekend you'd be leak checking everything that "master plumber" did, again. The previous homeowner sure didn't know how to find a handyman.
Stepping past the glass door into the recently remodeled shower of beige stone, you snagged your favorite body wash and mopped the stink of the day off your skin. The splash of water on the stainless drain grate mingled with deep sighs, ventilation fans, and the clunk of your skull on smooth tile. 
"I hate humanity!" you groaned, burying your head in your hands.
After completing your nightly routine, you opened the bedroom door, letting the warm, humid air fill the cold, dry room. Hard rain pelted the windows, rolling in thick droplets down the dark glass. Thunder rumbled in the distance as you padded naked and barefoot across the oak floor. You snapped on the small table lamp near your bed and headed for the wardrobe.
The royal purple, babydoll chemise slipped onto your body like a glove. Lacy, princess seams and triangular cups were lined with smooth raylon for discreet, but suggestive coverage. Trimmed with tiny satin bows, the mesh back hugged your curves before dipping into a graceful, flowing skirt. A ruffled hem hung two inches below your crotch line, showing off soft thighs and tiger-striped stretch marks. Tugging on cute panties, you climbed into smooth, cool sheets and pulled the flimsy microfiber comforter over your shoulders. The bedside light snapped off. Heavy lids drifted shut.
The tritone blast of a train whistle rattled through the windows. With a groan, you pulled your flat pillow over your head and buried your face in the mattress. Steady click-clacks accompanied the dull roar that poured in on the blustering winds. Eye twitching, you looked up just as lightning flashed across the room. Caught in the bright glare, red eyes glowed in the mirror.
Hold up, what?!
You sat bolt upright, clutching the cheap blanket to your chest. The pounding of your heart drowned out the next thunder clap. You squinted at the looking glass, but there was no sign of anything but the bathroom light.
Aw crap. Duh. The bathroom!
The bedside lamp clicked back on. With a frustrated snarl, you trapsed across the room and flipped the wall switch, snuffling out the CFL above the toilet. Tugging the door shut, you cast a wary glance at the old mirror. Still nothing there. Shaking your head, you crawled back into bed and flicked the table light off again.
Fifteen minutes after the train blew past, you lay in bed, staring at the cracked plaster ceiling. Though softening droplets made for relaxing background noise, itchy eyes and a wild imagination refused to let you rest. Counting down from one hundred proved useless.You’d tensed and released your entire body muscle by muscle, twice. Four-Seven-Eight breathing did little to ease your racing mind. You swallowed, realizing the one thing you hadn’t tried yet.
Oh yeah right! Like you could get off when those burning eyes were seared into your brain!
Rolling over for the fiftieth time, you spotted the murky outline of the mahogany secretary through the shadows. Huh… Well, if sexy thoughts were too awkward, maybe picturing something cute and heartwarming would do?
You groaned, pressing your palms to your dry eyes. Throwing off the covers, you walked to the old writing desk and flopped down the front panel. The key clicked in the latch. You extracted the picture of the Shimura children and their dog before heading back to bed. The bedside lamp flipped on. Your hand traced the edge of the old photograph.
“Geeze, you both were really cute kids.” You pursed your lips, checking the date. Tidy, pencil lead scrawl read: 1884.  “Ugh… The poor dog only made it a year?! Screw that puppy puncher!” 
You laid the photo on the nightstand, before flopping back onto your bed. As you curled onto your side, half-stuffed blankets cupped your cheek. You yawned, picturing the sweet smile on the little boy's face. Warm, dark eyes beamed with joy as he clutched his new friend like a treasure. You hummed, grabbing a roll of the comforter and dragging it to your chest. If you closed your eyes, you could almost feel soft fur and excited panting, as if you were the one with a puppy in your arms. The steady thump of rain on glass reminded you of a fast paced doggie heartbeat. Buried face first in your fantasy, your breathing slowed. Tired limbs grew heavy as your brain floated away.
“I hope you did okay after everything, Tenko,” you murmured into the blankets. “I wish I could have met you.”
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Racing through the pounding rain, you braced a hand over your eyes. The light of the grand house ahead pierced the blurry haze, guiding you up the gravel drive. Slick kidskin boots took the stairs two at a time. Wet hands shoved slimy strands of ruined hair behind your ears. Cold precipitation soaked through your waist-hugging wool coat. The fashionable bell sleeves of the short, double breasted jacket did little to protect your blouse from the elements. Water dripped from the poofy edge of cream silk bishop sleeves. You tugged out the long pins that clamped your toque hat to your head. Rain had flooded the dark beaver felt. The tiny brim sagged low like your mood. With as much dignity as you could muster, you straightened the deep purple kick pleats of your wool skirt before rapping on the door. 
Kerosene lamplight spilled out onto the porch as a tall, imposing butler in a double breasted suit stared down at you. “May I help you?” he asked. 
You squinted to make out his features, but even holding a lantern, his face was obscured by shadow. Swallowing your nerves, you rolled your shoulders back. The wet plip-plop from saturated silk ruined the image. Still, you raised your chin. “I am terribly sorry to bother you, but my bicycle tire went flat just before sunset. I must have gotten turned around in the lane during the storm and now I’m hopelessly lost. May I stay here until morning?”
“Kurogiri,” a gravelly voice growled from the front parlor. “Show her in.”
“Of course,” the butler replied, bowing at the waist. He held one arm out, gesturing to the open door. “Please, come this way.”
Leaving puddles with each step of your button-up ankle boots, you trod soddenly into the next room. Sumptuous scarlet wallpaper patterned with geometric golden rings glowed in the dim yellow light of the brass and glass wall sconce. A high backed, Rococo revival sofa set sat atop a plush, hand knotted wool rug. Across a throne of golden floral brocades, the evening paper lay tossed aside. You followed long, slender ankles up black merino trousers to a smoking jacket the color of pinot noir. Single breasted and well fit, its shawl collar was trimmed in deep ebony velvet. Instead of buttons, two ornate frog closures nipped in at the waist. White collar unbuttoned to his throat latch and leaning against the window, the master of the house peered at you with burning red eyes. Flowing waves of silver-white hair cascaded around his heart shaped face. When you froze, he scratched the side of his dry, peeling neck and grinned at you.
“Retro suits you,” he teased. 
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Dumbfounded, you stared at the handsome twenty something.
With a hum, he rose to his feet and moved a plush, small stool nearer to the fireplace. “Kurogiri, prepare a hot bath.”
The butler snapped his heels and headed up the stairs, leaving you dripping on the not-so-old wood floor.
Your host patted the rich, tufted upholstery. “Take off your coat and get warm before you catch the flu.”
Horrified, you waved your hands. “I’m soaked! I’ll ruin your furniture!”
Rolling his eyes, he stalked across the room and snatched up your wrist. “You made it this far barging into my life, why worry about it now?”
As howling wind rattled the bay windows, you shivered.
The slender man pushed you down onto the plush seat, plucking the buttons of your tightly fitted coat before you could protest. He shook it out, spattering water across the ivory carpet before hanging it over the back of a chair. “See?” he demanded, pointing to the pristine rug. “It doesn’t matter here.”
“Here?” You wrapped your arms around yourself. “What do you mean?”
He snorted, flopping down on the sofa. Resting his pointy elbows on his knees, he smirked at your over folded hands. “It’s just a dream. You can’t ruin anything.”
"A dream?" You peeked around him at the elegant impressionist paintings on the walls. Through the open door, you spotted a square based, bone china vase on a familiar mahogany table. Startled eyes flicked back to the man before you. "Hey wait a second, this is—"
"My home," he finished with a taunting sneer. "I lived here long before you did."
You narrowed your eyes, scanning up and down his features. "Who are you?"
With a scowl, he pointed to his nose. "Seriously? You're the one who asked to meet me, idiot."
As he threw himself back in the chair, the kerosene lamplight faded from his face. Dark waves and almond eyes dragged the picture of the little boy to the front of your mind. You lept to your feet in excitement.
"Tenko?! Tenko Shimura?!"
The man before you cringed like he'd been smacked with a brick. Grabbing your arm, he dragged you down to his level. "Don't call me that! That's not my name!"
Wobbly, worn out legs threatened to pitch you forward into his lap. When your knees buckled, panicked hands caught the wooden frame of the sofa. With his face only an inch away, brilliant red irises reminded you of living rubies. Though his brow hair had been burned away and the skin under his eyes looked painfully dry, the adorable mole on his right chin made your heart skip. Your breath caught in your throat. The tiny scar on his left lip curled with his sneer. Blazing heat splashed over your skin, surging up into your head like three glasses of sherry. 
Oh crap… he was stupid hot!
"O-oh!" you stammered, forcing a pinched laugh. "I'm… er… um…" Your eyes rolled away from his pointed stare. "Sorry." 
With an irritated sigh, he loosed your arm and scratched his neck. "Just don't call me Shimura again, got it?"
"Of course! I'm really sorry!" Swallowing down the stone in your throat, you fiddled with your fingers. "I would have changed my name too, given the circumstances."
He tossed you a proud smirk. "I knew you would understand."
A pointed cough echoed from the door. "Master Shigaraki," the butler called. "The bath is ready, as you requested."
Freshly aware of exactly how close your face was to your host, you jolted backwards. The heel of your boots caught on the plush carpet. Just as you started to slip, Shigaraki wrapped one arm around your corseted waist and pulled you into his chest.
"Shall we go upstairs?" he purred in your ear.
Okay… now you were wet for an entirely different reason.
Step by step, the master of the house led you up the walnut treads towards the far bedroom. He smelled like feral cumin-musk and spicy cloves. As you passed the master suite, you raised a curious brow.
"That was my parents’," he explained, pulling you along. "I never wanted to sleep in the same place as that man."
"Oh…" you murmured, following him into the northern bedroom. "That makes a lot of sense.”
In your-er… his sleeping quarters, the gothic revival bed set and elegant writing desk sat in the same spots as their present-day counterparts. However, the warm amber stain looked much less yellow than in your time. Beyond the pocket bathroom door, polished marble tiles led to a gilded porcelain soaking tub. Steam poofed into the cold air, curling up past cream silk papered walls delicately trimmed with gold leaf. Dried lavender potpourri scented the room. A fluffy towel lay neatly folded on the mother-of-pearl pedestal sink.
The fingers on your corset dipped down to your hips as he loomed over your shoulder. Warm breath tickled your ear.  "After your bath, you can apologize properly for your mistake.”
A coy smile curled onto your lips. “Define properly?”
Two fingers gripped your chin and turned your face to his. Red eyes drifted shut. “Take a guess.”
Shigaraki's lips tasted of wine and copper. With a moan, you leaned into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands drifted to the buttons on the back of your wool skirt. It slumped to the floor, pooling around your ankles. A soft tongue stroked yours. You met his motions with heated enthusiasm. Deft fingers plucked the fasteners of your wet, ruffled blouse until it slipped from your shoulders. Tangling his hand in your stays, he tugged your s-curve corset and its cover free. Your thumbs hooked under your drawers and petticoat, throwing them to the ground. Kicking them away, all that remained between you and him was a thin, silk chemise and one pair of stubborn, button-up boots.
“How on earth do you people even get to the good part?!” you demanded, squatting to fight with the brass closures.
He cackled. “A little excited are we?”
You reached up and cupped the bulge in his trousers. “You’re one to talk," you fired back with a naughty wink.
The pale man groaned, snatching your wrist into his strong grip. His cheeks flushed pink. “If you want to make it to that bath, stop now," he rasped.
Raising an eyebrow at him, you flashed him a saucy smirk. “Bold of you to assume I give a rat’s about the bath.” 
All at once, Shigaraki dragged you to your feet, smashing his lips against yours like he intended to eat you alive. As you giggled, he broke the kiss and marched you back into the bedroom. “Wagtail,” he growled, tossing a pillow on the floor.
Settling yourself on your knees, you pawed at the front of his pants. “I don't know what that means, but I like dogs.”
Fortunately for everyone involved, his pants had far fewer buttons than your stupid shoes. You fumbled with the frog closures for only a moment before shoving the velvet smoking jacket out of the way. Untucking his long shirtwaist, your fun screeched to a halt when you encountered long underwear.
“What the actual—” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “So much for a strip tease!” Faking a pout, you tugged on his shirt. “Help a horny girl out?”
With a snort of laughter, Shigaraki quickly shuffled out of his complex layers. By the time you got your damp chemise and stupid boots off, his stiff cock finally escaped its elborate prison. Thumb and forefinger forming a ring grip, you gave him a few experimental strokes. When he tossed his head back, white waves haloed his face. You bit your lip, savoring the ethereal beauty of his fair complexion against those haunting crimson irises. 
A firm hand cupped the back of your head. “Now you slow down?” he demanded between pants.
Tucking stray strands of hair behind your ear, you lowered your lips to his weeping, flushed tip. “Calm down. I'm just savoring the moment.”
When your hot mouth slipped over his salty head, the man above you gasped. Hollowing your cheeks, you bobbed your way down, inch by inch. Your tongue stroked the thick vein on his underside, trailing up to the small piece of tissue just below the spongy crown. Flicking the sensitive skin elicited a throaty whimper.
Shigaraki’s strong fingers curled tighter into your scalp as he loosed a garbled curse. “More,” he demanded.
You smirked at the expletive before diving back down. 
Taking his generous girth deep into your mouth, your tongue lolled around the edge of his shaft. Your free hand slid up his soft inner thighs. Rolling his balls between your fingers, you shivered when musky precum coated your tastebuds. Harsh pants from above urged you on.
As you worked him further into ecstasy, each stuttered thrust crept closer and closer to the soft roof of your mouth. You angled him away from your gag, swallowing down thick saliva. It didn’t help. Drool pooled at the corners of your mouth, leaving him coated in slick. Wet clicks accompanied choked whines as you worked him to the back of your throat.
Shigaraki squirmed in your hold, guiding you into a relentless pace. Your jaw ached as his swollen cock forced you to spread your teeth wider. Tears welled at your lash line. His filthy moans stoked the heat between your legs. All at once, he stiffed, his hard grip clamping down on your skull.
With a hoarse gasp, he spilled himself down your throat.
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Flying up in your bed, you banged your chest as violent coughs wracked your body. By the time you cleared your sore throat, all you could smell was stale, salty breath. You groped for the clock on your night stand. Red LEDs read 3:39am. Your thighs shifted against each other. Wet need stained your panties.
“Not fair!” you whined, slamming your fist into your limp pillow. “Of course I wake up before the good part!”
Flopping back onto the mattress, you rolled onto your side and squeezed your eyes shut. How long you laid there, staring at the back of your eyelids was impossible to say. However, while the digital numbers rolled upwards, sleep danced further and further away. The cravings from your wet dream still burning in your skin, you whimpered and slipped your hand between your legs.
That was when a rip of pain reminded you of that nasty slice on your finger.
Cussing violently, you flipped on the table light. Sure enough, fresh crimson seeped across the previously clotted wound. Throwing off the covers, you gripped your bleeding finger and shuffled off to the cold bathroom. Thrusting your hand under the tap, you gingerly cleaned and dried the injury. The mirrored medicine cabinet rattled open. You peeled a brand new Pikachu Band-aid from its packaging and slapped it over the damaged digit. Closing your eyes, you leaned on the ceramic sink. It was no good. Sharp stabs from your hand couldn’t compete with the hypersensitive need crawling up your core.
As your fingers curled into the thin, cheap towel, you knew what you had to do to fall asleep.
From his glassy vantage point, Tomura watched your pursed lips and frustrated stomping with a pleased sneer. Dragging the flimsy Walmart towel from its mount, you trudged back into your bedroom and threw it on the sheets. Though the light snapped off, he could still see as clear as day. With a raised brow, he watched you ball the fabric under your hips and flop over onto your stomach. 
As you began to grind yourself on the towel, a long deceased cock sprung back to life.
One palm flat against the cool bedding, your free hand tugged the stretch lace cup of your slinky nightgown aside. Soft fingers tickled your bare breast before tweaking the pert nipple. You shuddered, loosing a slutty moan. 
Leaning against the surface of his mirror, Tomura shuffled himself out of his clothes and gripped his shaft. Watching you roll your body against the rough cloth sent a spike of pleasure through his belly. Erotic creaks from his old bed left his mouth bone dry. Your blood plumped lips and half lidded eyes made for fertile fantasies. Swiping some of the pre-cum from his slit, he began to match your pace.
As you worked yourself further and further into depravity, the show before him left Tomura feverish and panting. He watched your legs curl and slacken as you tried to find the right pressure. A few irritated grumbles accompanied rustling bed sheets. When you finally hit upon a position that made your body clench, he heard filthy pleas spilling for your lips.
“Please,” you begged, your hips vibrating against the rough fabric. “W-want your cock so bad!”
Liquid heat blazed through his veins as he fisted his swollen length. Stoking the fire with each pump, he chased the feverish sensation with single-minded desire. The sound of your eager cries and sight of your fingers teasing the pert nub propelled him forward. Hazy eyes watched your body tremble as he pictured himself balls-deep in your velvety cunt. It should be his hand teasing your tit. It should be his fingers making those slutty noises spill from your puffy lips. He clenched his teeth, losing himself in thoughts of your soft body clamped around his swollen cock.
It was then that a raspy inhale accompanied the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. 
“Shi-Shigaraki…” You whimpered his name, burying your face in the mattress. “Mmmm gonna… gonna—”
All at once, he exploded over the glass. Limp body leaning on the frame, he drank in the sight of your heaving chest and dazed smile. He watched you shove the towel to the floor and snuggle into the pillow. As your breathing slowed, one overpowering, addictive thought filled his brain with intoxicating lust.
He had to hear you call his real name over and over in that same, needy voice.
Taglist:
@THE-LADY-WRITES-WHAT @wonwoosbestbuddy @OCEON6  @dabisqueen @shig-a-shig-ah-ah @feral-creep @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-loveuet-love @smilinghowever @imaginedheroine @CLOUDS-NO1-FAN @MOONTHECREATOR @HARLEYWRITESFANTASY @MANJIROSGIRL @vamperilous @MADDY-HAT @cakernofakers @builtd-different25 @kurtasim @shiggyniggy @koreluvsspring @smilee-spooks @beware-thecrow
@m0nim0ni @minnieplier-blog @blehitsriot @moonwad @saikis-seceretcoffeejelly @nainainairi @bakuhoe37 @un-deadinsomniac @nonominchan @utena-akashiya @molita111 @nekolover93 @pimp-in @slaughterbat777 @chxrryvibes @blackchemicals @coldsaladpainter @flamme-meuf2-shiggy @aphorditeslust @just-yer-average-key @rekoii @justnothingguys @weo0o
@rekoii @down-with-the-shigness @softkao @night-shadowblood-writes2
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lazylightjudgealmond · 7 months
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MHA 398 SPOILERS
ITS MAKING ME GO FERAL
Shigaraki crumbs 🥵
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roisanerd · 1 year
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Shiggy at 3am, balls deep in a historical rabbit hole: I just KNOW Abraham Lincoln's hat went FLYING when he got assassinated in that theater
Spinner, who never fucking finished school: Dropped it like sonic rings
Dabi, high on the shit he had Shoto steal from the 1A dorms: When it lands on someone they become the next president
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lgbtlunaverse · 7 months
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Obsessed with characters who portray themselves as worse than they are. Who are lying to everyone including themselves about it. People generally assume if someone's lying about themselves they're trying to look better but sometimes they're trying to look worse. They attribute agency to where they had none, add intend to accidents, try to convince everyone that this is something they did instead of something that happened to them.
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blazeandrosemain · 1 year
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Wink ~☆
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nev4chii · 5 months
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He says, while wearing a League of Legends shirt
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beybuniki · 2 months
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dabi day!!!
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mornlucc · 1 year
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I found this drawing I made of the 2021 shigaraki
i'm not gonna lie, it's not that bad 💥
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Sexy color by Bokunocolor on Twitter. Posted with permission. Thanks for letting me post😘
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