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attic-club-sandwich · 11 months

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How They are Handling your Disappearance Pt. 3

MC Returns

Ahh you guys i'm so glad you are enjoying this little series! I wasn't expecting so many of you to like it! But as requested by many, here is part 3 where MC returns to the present day timeline and reunites with the 7 brothers. This is a bit of a lengthy one because like... we are home! It's a little less angsty, a little more happy this time haha. Anyways, please enjoy! Reblogs and feedback are appreciated as usual!

Read Part 1: Brothers

Read Part 2: Side Characters

Word count: 3,057

Rating: T, slightly suggestive.

Taglist: @amberrskiies @obey-me-posts @sassykattery @delphi-dreamin @bite-sized-devil @flemmingbamse @a-hidden-gem @otomefoxystar @siofrantic @todothedodo @ihatecorns @exrellian @vernith @sus0daddy

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rose divider by @/firefly-graphics

It feels like it has been forever since the day that you went missing, but the brothers never gave up their search. How could they when you were out there somewhere, possibly alone and scared? The thought of their little human wandering around the unknown gave them the motivation they needed to keep going. But after a long day of once again searching the Devildom up and down with no results, the brothers are settling down for the evening.

Lucifer

The Avatar of Pride is in his room getting ready for bed after a long day of searching for you.

His wings are terribly sore from flying all day, so he lays on his bed sprawled out on his stomach, allowing his feathery wings to stretch out behind him.

He rests his head in his arms, and sighs.

Yet another day of searching, but no results.

Suddenly, he begins to feel a familiar tingling sensation of magic in the air that brings goosebumps to his bare arms.

Before he had time to process what was happening, a flash of light filled his room, practically blinding him.

After a few seconds, the light dissipates and there you are, standing in its place.

Lucifer forgets all about his aching wings, and jumps up from the bed.

At first, he hesitates, terrified that you’ll disappear again at any moment.

“M-MC…? Is it really you…?”

His crimson eyes are wide as he takes in your appearance.

You appear the same, but he's confused by the horns that now rest on your head, as well as a few other demonic attributes.

Just where did you disappear to?

Your face scrunches up and your eyes fill with tears. “L-Luci… yes, it’s really me.”

Suddenly, his arms are around you, a million questions in his throat but unable to speak.

You whimper, taking in his scent. He smells freshly showered, the smell of his soap sending a wave of comfort crashing over you.

“Luci… I missed you so much…I’m so sorry…”

His shoulders begin to tremble and he tucks his face into the crook of your neck.

You feel wetness on your skin as he begins to cry.

Have you ever seen him cry before?

Just how much have they all suffered while I was gone?

Your arms wrap themselves around his neck and you squeeze your eyes shut.

You stand there in his arms, his wings wrapping themselves around the two of you protectively.

He will never let you go again.

After a few moments, he pulls away, staring into your eyes.

“MC, the days I've spent searching for you were endless… but never once did I give up. I’m very glad that I didn’t. Every second was worth my time.”

Suddenly his lips are on yours and you accept his kiss greedily.

Kissing him was the confirmation you needed that you were home.

“MC, please forgive me. You can tell me the details later, but right now I just need you. I need to know you are here and…real.”

He spins you around, guiding you to his bed so the back of your legs hit the edge, causing you to fall back.

He hovers over top of you, his crimson eyes full of love, adoration, and desire.

You giggle through your tears, placing a hand on his cheek. “I love you so much, Luci.”

He smiles, tucking a stray hair behind your ear.

“Words alone cannot express my love for you, little one.”

You give him a peck on the lips again. “We have a lot of time to make up for you know… where should we start?”

Lucifer gives you a mischievous grin. “I have just the thing in mind, darling. Something that has been long overdue.”

Mammon

Mammon returned to his bedroom shortly after arriving home.

He had to check on his ravens who were also out searching for you while they were gone.

His wings were sore as shit, and all he wanted to do was shower and go to bed.

But you are more important.

Throwing open his window, one of his ravens glides down to greet him.

“Damn, ya didn’t find anything did ya?”

The raven hangs its head sadly, and Mammon sighs.

“Thanks anyways, I appreciate the help.”

Suddenly the raven begins to flap its wings wildly, cawing at something behind him.

Mammon spins around, and his golden eyes widen in shock when he sees just who is appearing in the middle of his bedroom.

It was you, clear as day.

He’s speechless, unable to find the right words even though he’s been playing them on repeat in his head since the day you left.

“Mammon!” you shout with tears in your eyes. You begin to run towards him, but he meets you halfway, scooping you up into his arms and spinning you around.

He sets you down again, and hugs you snugly to his chest.

“MC…I… Shit. I-I missed ya so damn much…” he says with a shaky voice.

You inhale his scent as he hugs you, which smells of sweat and leather.

You’re home. He’s your Mammon. Finally…

“Mams, I’m so so sorry… I’ll explain everything I promise…”

He pulls you away from him, his golden blue gaze staring intensely at you.

“Damn right ya will! But for now…I don’t care..I just… I need ya so bad… I mean this can’t be real, right?”

You give him a small smile, taking his hand in yours.

“I’m real, Mammon. I promise.”

His tanned skin is flushed as he pulls you with him to sit on his bed, hoisting you up onto his lap.

He can’t hold back anymore as he plants a firm kiss to your lips.

You accept it eagerly.

Your tongues intertwine briefly before he pulls away, breathless.

“I love ya MC, I’m so sorry I couldn’t do a damn thing…”

You silence him with a kiss to the forehead.

“It’s not your fault, Mammon. Please don’t cry…”

He notices your own lip quivering, and let’s out an amused snort through his tears.

“Don’t you go cryin’ on me either!”

His long, slender fingers run through your hair and you sigh.

His lips are on yours once more, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

You can sense his overwhelming desire threatening to take over.

“Mammon’s got ya now, treasure. You’re safe with me. I’m never letting you go again.”

Leviathan

Throughout the search, Levi has been exploring every inch of the Devildom waters.

From seas to lakes, he still could find no trace of you.

Levi heads back to his room, a towel around his waist after Lucifer forced him to strip in the hallway so he didn’t track water through the house.

Once he’s dried off and dressed again, he sinks down in his gaming chair, sighing as his aching limbs are finally able to rest.

Tears welled up in his eyes, disappointed that he let everyone down again.

Especially you.

I’m so useless, he thinks.

A stray tear rolls down his cheek, and he wipes it away with his arm.

A flash of light appears before him, and it sends a tingling sensation up his body.

Wait a minute…that’s…!

His eyes are wide and his mouth gapes open as he looks up to see you standing there right in front of him.

“M-MC, I-Is it really y-you?!” Of course he’s a stuttering mess, but he can’t believe it.

He doesn’t know when he stood up, but suddenly you are slamming into him, wrapping your arms around his torso.

“Yes, Levi. It’s me.” you sob, burying your face into his chest.

Your voice has him melting in your grip.

He finally fully embraces you, burning his face into your hair.

Your scent is slightly different, and he can smell other demons on you.

This sends a wave of envy over him, but he ignores it. All he cares about is that you’re home.

He, however, smells of the sea.

“Levi, I'm so sorry… I promise I’ll explain. I just really need you right now. I’ve missed you so much…”

Leviathan only nods, his shoulders trembling from the sobs that are escaping him.

You stay standing there wrapped in his arms, gently rubbing circles on his back.

After some time, he calms down.

His eyes are red and puffy and his face is swollen. Your heart aches for him.

Suddenly, he grabs your hand, leading you over with him to his bathtub.

You climb in together, and you sit in his lap. His tail curls around you, holding you in place.

“M-MC…can I um, k-kiss you?” he asks, his tear stained cheeks becoming flushed.

You nod eagerly, and he places a soft, gentle kiss to your lips.

Your lips are the same as ever, soft and sweet.

Levi is overwhelmed with affection for you.

“I love you, I love you, I love you…” he mutters, rocking you gently in his lap.

He peppers your face with kisses and you giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I love you so much too, Levi. I’m so glad to be home…”

He rests his head on your shoulder, purple strands of his hair tickling your cheek.

“Please don’t leave me like that again, MC. I-I was so scared…”

The tremor in his voice causes fresh tears to form in the corner of your eyes.

“Never again, I’m staying right here with you.”

Satan

Satan steps over the pile of books on his floor before flopping down onto his bed.

His bedroom is in quite the disarray due to his last tantrum.

He can’t help that he’s just so damn frustrated!

They’ve practically searched the Devildom inside out, and still… nothing.

He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest as he stares out the window, tears threatening to spill down his cheeks.

He almost doesn’t notice the burst of light filling his bedroom.

The air was practically vibrating with magic when he spun his head around to see the silhouette of a figure in the blinding light.

He squints, trying his best to make out the form. Once the light dissipates, an unfamiliar feeling washes over him.

Satan thought he’s finally experienced every emotion in his lifetime of being in the Devildom.

But what he feels when he sees you standing there in his bedroom is indescribable.

He gasps, immediately jumping up from his bed and hurrying over to you.

Your eyes are locked on him, and he thought he noticed you flinch the moment he approached you.

“MC… are… you okay? Where in the Devildom have you been?”

His voice is soft, but it trembles slightly.

He doesn’t expect answers right away, of course.

Not when you are standing here in front of him for the first time in what feels like an eternity.

You nod, trying to wipe away your tears. “Satan… It’s me. I-I’m home.”

The sound of his name leaving your lips after so long pushes him over the edge.

He pulls you into his arms and he squeezes you tight, finally allowing his tears to fall.

“M-MC… I'm so glad you’re home safe… I was so worried about you…”

You relax against his chest, finally processing the fact that this wasn’t the past version of himself.

After a few moments, you sniff, pulling away from him to gaze into his eyes. You notice a scar on his cheek, still healing from a recent fight he must have had.

You gently trace your fingers over it, and he winces.

“I’m so sorry Satan…the pain that I must have caused you all…”

He shakes his head, glancing away.

“I’m just so relieved you are home, MC. I don’t believe that whatever happened was your fault.”

His fingers run through your hair and he kisses your forehead.

“Can I…kiss you?” you ask, your cheeks flushing slightly. Normally you wouldn’t ask, but it’s been awhile.

“Of course, kitten. But just know if you do, I may not be able to hold myself back from you much longer.”

You give him a smirk, and press your lips firmly to his.

To finally kiss your Satan once more.

He slips his tongue past your lips, and you groan.

When you pull away, his emerald eyes are shining with passion.

“Every book I read told me how to find you, but they never mentioned how to handle your return.”

He moves you to his bed with him so you are straddling his lap.

“But I don’t believe I need any instruction as to what comes next. I love you, MC. Please allow me to express the longing I’ve felt for you all this time.”

Asmodeus

Asmo had made his way to his room for the evening with the overwhelming urge to climb into his silk bed sheets.

But first he really wanted a bath. The thought of the warm water soothing his aching joints was very pleasant to him right now.

He had made his way into the bathroom to start the water, the noise of the faucet drowning out the sound coming from his bedroom.

Asmo thought he heard something, and he lifted his head to the door that connects from the bathroom to his room.

He thought his eyes were playing tricks on him.

Was that a flash of light just now? Is it storming?

He furrowed his brow in confusion, and stepped slowly over to peek through the door.

Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw.

There you were, standing right there in his bedroom.

Your eyes were wide and looking around, still processing where you had appeared.

Asmo gasps, forgetting about the bath and hurries over to you.

“M-MC?!” he shrieks, pulling you into the tightest hug he’s sure he’s ever given.

You begin to cry, tears falling down your cheeks and onto his shoulder.

“Shhh, MC. Don’t cry now, darling…” he coos, but his own tears are escaping him.

He holds you close as you cry together.

“Asmodeus…is… it really you? My Asmo?” you whimper.

He’s confused by what you mean, but he doesn’t question it for now.

“Of course my little lamb, it’s me. You’re home now…”

You sniff, pulling away from him slightly. “I’m so sorry Asmo, I swear I didn’t mean to leave you guys like that…”

Taking your hands in his, he shakes his head. “No no, hon, don’t blame yourself for this. I know there’s a very good reason, but you can explain later to all of us, okay?”

You nod, wiping your eyes.

“I was just about to get a bath. Would you care to join me, MC?”

The thought of taking a bath with Asmo right now feels…unreal.

You couldn’t believe you were finally home with him.

Smiling, he leads you into the bathroom.

First, he steps out of his robe, and your face flushes.

You’ll never get over how beautiful he is.

Then it’s your turn.

You shiver as he begins to undress you, his fingers brushing over your skin.

He smiles softly as he notices the goosebumps that begin to form on your body.

“I’ve missed this so much. Let me get a good look at you, darling.”

His eyes tear up again as his eyes travel over your body, still in disbelief that you were standing right there with him again after so long.

“I need all the time I can get with you right now before my brothers find out you’re home.”

He takes your hand and helps guide you into the bathtub.

You sigh as the warm water envelops you and he places you in between his legs with your back to him.

You feel his arms wrap themselves around you and you blush.“I’ve only been dreaming of this moment with you, MC.” Asmo murmurs, attaching his lips to your shoulder.

You whine as he continues to kiss up your neck.

“I love you so much, Asmo…”

He smiles into the crook of your neck as he holds you close.

“My dear, if anything came out of your disappearance, it’s how much I realized that I love you. Please, allow me to show you…”

Beelzebub and Belphegor

The twins were always together nowadays.

They were both getting ready for bed in their room after their long day, neither of them wanting to speak about the disappointing results of the search.

Belphie hugged his pillow to his chest as he climbed into bed beside Beel.

He was struggling to stay awake, but he had a peculiar feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Of course, being his twin, Beel felt it too. It wasn’t hunger, or anything like that… It was…

“Belphie do you feel…”

Before he could finish, a burst of light filled the room, temporarily blinding them both.

The sensation of magic through the air sent shivers down their spines.

Once the light dulled, they glanced up through squinted eyes to see… you.

Wait, is that really…?

Despite the dull ache in their bodies, they both jump up.

“MC!” their violet eyes are wide as they gape at you, still trying to decide if this was real or a cruel hallucination.

But you seem just as surprised as they are.

Suddenly, you feel yourself being pulled into a strong embrace.

Belphie is squeezed into the hug next to you, and you both glance up to see Beel with tears streaming down his cheeks.

“B-Beel… Belphie…I’ve missed you both so much…”

You sob, burying your face into Beel’s chest.

Belphie finally allows his tears to fall. I’m so lame, he thinks.

How dare you make him cry like this?

But he’s so happy. So relieved.

Beel begins to move you both towards his bed, placing you right between him and his brother.

You whimper as you feel their arms wrap around you.

The thought of being able to do this again with them never even crossed your mind.

You feel Beel nuzzle his face into your hair.

You smelled…different. But there was no denying your familiar scent and it made his mouth water.

Belphie yawned, burying his face into your shoulder.

“Beel and I had each other, but MC… you are our missing piece.”

His twin nodded, placing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Belphie is right. It feels right again with you here in between us.”

Your heart was so full.

You smiled wide as you kissed both of their foreheads.

“My boys…I love you so much.”

As you laid together, they took turns littering you with kisses and whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

The feeling of their lips and their hands on your body has your head spinning, and you whisper their names between breathless gasps.

After sometime, Beel turned towards you, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“I’m feeling a bit hungry…but for something different. How about you Belphie?”

Belphie immediately sensed where his twin was going and flashed him a smile back.

“I’m all of a sudden wide awake. What do you say you join us, MC? We want you to ourselves before we have to go back to sharing you.”

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inkykeiji · 1 year

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anonymous said: what would flawless tomura do if they were at a party and he left reader alone for a few minutes and came back to some guy talking to her?

character: shigaraki tomura

genre: smut

notes: okaaaay so it’s a teeny tiny bit more than just talking to her but ah anon! this ask immediately sparked an idea in my brain and i just had to write it for you! this is set within my flawless AU and it’s pretty much a prequel to part two!

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, daddy kink, semi-public sex, toxic relationships (jealousy, possessiveness), minimal prep, rough sex, noncon nonsexual touching from a stranger, size difference, implied yakuza

words: 4k

Tomura hates these things.

As far as he’s concerned, these overly extravagant ‘work functions’ are nothing more than an excuse for a bunch of bigwigs and hotshots to get together and jerk each other off.

Really, it’s not much different than a college house party; if you take away the opulent venue and the nice clothes and good food, it’s practically the exact same thing.

He hadn’t wanted to bring you, fucking despises the thought of having you in the presence of any of these animals at all—disgusting and crude and primal and dangerous—but Kurogiri had insisted.

It looks good to include her, Tomura, he had said. You know how important these events are to your father.

And he knows how important you are to Tomura. But Tomura supposes that doesn’t matter nearly as much in his father’s eyes, now, does it?

In his mind, you’re just some silly little girl, a shiny new toy for Tomura to play with, to occupy his son’s time until he needs him, until he once again deems him useful. Then it’s expected you’ll be cast aside in favour of the family business, because nothing could ever be more important to Tomura, poor little orphaned Tomura, saved from the clutches of poverty by the Shigarakis, than the family business he’s being groomed to own one day, right?

Wrong.

But his father doesn’t give a fuck about that. He’s right if he says he’s right, end of discussion, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

So you’re here.

You had been cautiously excited to attend, desperate to earn his father’s favour, to prove that you’re worth it, worth all of the time and energy and love Tomura spends on you; that you can belong, if you really try to.

It’s sweet, really, how eager you are to be a part of the family. Impossibly, it makes Tomura love you even more.

Kurogiri’s been bouncing around the banquet hall like an efficient but headless chicken, splitting his time between checking in with guests and keeping a watchful eye on Tomura, since he has a nasty tendency to suddenly and miraculously disappear into thin air at these things.

The corner Tomura has the two of you wedged in is shrouded in shadows and at the back of the room, far from all of the excitement, the chattering voices and chewing teeth. It’s still loud, though, a mess of chaotic and indistinct noise, booming laughter tangled with confident speeches wafting over you in waves, carrying with them the scent of hors d’oeuvres from the self-serve table at the head of the room.

Your tummy growls, nothing more than a gentle rumble beneath Tomura’s palms, and he hugs you tighter, chin hooked over your shoulder as he nuzzles into your neck a little in apology.

“I’ll have Kurogiri grab you some food the next time he makes his rounds, baby, I promise.”

A dainty hand lays atop his own, fingers snuggling between the gaps of his own and resting there.

“Thank you, Daddy,” you murmur, the side of your head knocking against his own.

And, oh, that word.

That special word, nothing more than a sweet huff of breath on your tongue, five little letters that get his blood surging and his chest puffing and his spine straightening.

That one word that summons the true dominant that lays dormant at his core, slept and stomped on by inherent brattiness; that single word that pumps his whole body full of heady authority, muscles swelling with it, tense and gorged on the power it affords him.

But then your tummy grumbles again and Tomura frowns, fingers flexing as they sink into your flesh, holding you closer. Your ankles hook around his calves in response, body melting further into his—giving in, giving over, complete and total control—sagging s little in his lap, and he sighs.

But there’s no way you can get up, no way he can allow you to get up, to go anywhere near the food so meticulously laid out across a long, white table. Because Tomura has already seen the way these mongrels called men have been staring at you, eyes sick and starved as they try to swallow you whole, gazes nipping at your bare legs, tearing at your sweet little dress.

Instinctively, his body curls further around your own, shoulders hunched and chest curved as it molds to your back, almost as if he’s trying to hide you away within himself, within his flesh and bone and soul, far away from those ogling eyes and their gnawing little teeth.

Kurogiri returns not long after, though he is not able to fulfill Tomura’s promise, a slight breathlessness to his tone as he delivers a directive.

“Tomura, your father needs your assistance.”

“What?” Tomura hisses, head whipping to face his handler, eyes narrowed sharply. “With what?”

“There are some people he’d like you to meet,” Kurogiri responds calmly, unfazed.

Tomura’s features pucker, the mere thought sour in his head. “You can tell him to fuck right off, I’m not—”

“Tomura,” Kurogiri cuts him off, stern but not sharp. “Is this appropriate behaviour for a CEO-in-training? These are very important guests—important clients, and it is imperative that you continue to keep our relationship with them in good standing.”

Scarlet eyes dart between you and Kurogiri, settling on the crown of your head, a certain type of woefulness imbuing his features—mouth turned down, eyes drooping slightly, forehead woven with lines of worry.

“She’ll be alright on her own for a second or two,” Kurogiri continues, voice softening. “It’ll only be for a moment, Tomura. Just come say hello.”

“Fine, fuck.”

With the utmost gentleness, Tomura slides you off his lap as he stands, taking your jaw between his palms, bony fingers splayed across your cheeks, so long his middle fingers nearly rest on your temples.

“I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy,” you laugh a little, nudging forward to press a quick peck to his lips. “Promise I’ll survive on my own while you’re gone.”

“You better,” he threatens, cold voice contradicted by the mirth shimmering in his eyes and the love tugging at the corners of his lips. “Be back in a minute or less.”

“Thirty seconds,” you hear him growling to Kurogiri as he stalks off, vying fingers already gouging his own flesh, nails leaving thick divots that pool rapidly with blood in their wake. “Thirty fucking seconds, that’s all they’re getting from me.”

Your eyes trail after him as he weaves through the space, an ache, dull and heavy, settling behind your ribs when you spot the ribbons of crimson adorning his neck, trickling onto his crisp white collar, Kurogiri hastily attempting to dab at them as Tomura viciously swipes at his hands.

The ache throbs, expands and pushes against your ribs as if it’s trying to escape the cage, as if it’s trying to propel you forward, urging you to act, to move, to go be with him.

“Hey,” a voice pulls you from your thoughts, and you startle slightly, gaze snapping towards its owner. “You looked lonely—Like a lost kitten, or something. This your first time at one of these things?”

It’s clearly a lie, you know it is, can see the falsities glimmering in his stretched smile, wide and tense and hungry across his cheeks—there’s no way this man didn’t see you with Tomura only mere seconds ago.

“Uh—”

“I’m Shin,” he continues, eyes obscured by the chandelier lights glinting off his glasses. Even veiled, you can feel it, the man’s slimy gaze gliding up your body, slowly, studiously, and leaving a filmy trail behind it. Your flesh crawls along your bones, feeling wrong, dirty, bare, and you wrap your arms around yourself, hugging your ribs. “Nemoto Shin. I work for a, uh, friend of the Shigarakis.”

“Oh,” you say, dull as your eyes skip across the crowd, feet shifting a little as you lean away, hunting for Tomura in a sea of businessmen.

“Actually, I’m a doctor of sorts.”

Your narrowed gaze drifts back to his, eyebrows knitted slightly.

“Of sorts?”

“A chemist, kind of.”

“Kind of?”

Smirking, he tilts his head to the side as if he finds you fascinating, revealing dark eyes as the light catches on his hair.

“I run clinical trials, collect data, and then revise.”

And it’s the way he says it, voice imbued with a sort of deranged glee that smears his sharp smile wider, as if he takes pleasure in conducting these experiments, that has shivers skittering up your spine, nails digging into your biceps as your arms squeeze your torso.

“On people?”

“Of course.”

“Oh. That’s, uh...”

Your eyes dart around the venue again, expensive silk suits and leather loafers all a blur as you search for an out, a familiar face, someone, anyone.

“You know,” Shin begins conversationally, taking a step closer to you. “You look like you’re about the correct age and height for our newest study.”

Large hands wrap around your own, fast and sudden, and forcefully uncurl your fingers, tugging your arms from around your body and holding them out wide, leaning back on his heels to fully appreciate you.

“In fact, I’d say you’re perfect.”

A discontented whine catches in your throat as you struggle in his grasp, attempting to pull your wrists free, Shin’s grip tightening to near bone-crushing in response.

Yelping, you wrench again, trying harder to jerk yourself away from him. He merely laughs in response, a sound that shoots spikes of ice through your limbs, and yanks your arms open further, tutting his tongue as if your struggle is so adorable, head quirked to the side with an egging smirk.

“What do you say? Want to participate?”

“No, you bastard! Ugh, let go of me!”

“C’mon,” he goads, eyes gleaming with poorly concealed sadism. “I promise it won’t hurt. In fact,” his head dips a little, looking at you over the wire of his spectacles. “You might even enjoy it.”

“She’s good. Thanks, though.”

Tomura’s voice has the man flinching, a jolt of panic surging through his veins and loosening his muscles, your arms dropped from his hands in an instant. He recovers quickly, though, any traces of alarm smoothed out from his expression a second later, features morphed into a perfect mask of professionalism.

“Tomura,” he says with a polite nod, a small but appropriate smile on his face. “You’re looking well.”

Tomura says nothing in response, glaring at him through sharpened eyes, crimson simmering with such anger you swear you can see the heat waves radiating from his sockets. He holds the man’s gaze until, finally, the man looks away with a cower, head hung in submission.

And then Tomura’s turning away with a sneer, catching your hands, busy mauling his biceps in desperation, with ease and wrapping a palm around your arm.

“Fucking vultures,” he’s spitting as he all but drags you from the venue, the fingers cuffed around your wrist tensing. “I leave for, like, a minute and they’re all over you.”

“I—I’m sorry,” you’re whimpering as your free hand winds around his forearm, jogging a little in your haste to keep up with his pace.

“Sorry?” he questions, the word seething on his tongue, as if you’re stupid for even apologizing at all. “It isn’t your fault, princess.”

And even though his voice is still scalding, the look he throws you over his shoulder is soft, stuffed full of love.

“Besides,” he’s continuing as he shoves past the heavy glass doors at the entrance of the hall. “I’m gonna show those fuckers who you belong to.”

The satin toe of your heels catches on the rough concrete, instantly causing it to scuff and fray as Tomura hauls you along behind him, the slap of his trademark red sneakers echoing out among the parking lot with each hasty stomp toward his car.

“Tomura, wait!” you’re calling as you teeter quickly behind him.

But he isn’t listening, your staggering not nearly fast enough for his liking, giving another harsh yank on your arm with such vigour it sends you stumbling right into his back, ankles wobbling a little as you almost trip over your own feet, a little yelp sounding in your throat.

He catches you easily, though, skinny arms wrapping around your form, offering minimal stability as they slam you against the driver’s door of the Bentley, effectively trapping you between the metal and his body.

Knobby knees are parting your legs instantly, sharp as they barge at your inner thighs and force them open, his feet framed by your own.

His hips slot up against yours, bones defined and protruding as they press into your supple flesh, his cock already half-hard.

And, God, you’ll never tire of how easily he gets hard, just the thought of your cunt enough to send a rush of boiling blood to the apex of his thighs, to fill his cock, a girlish giggle bubbling past your lips.

“Something funny?” he’s asking as large hands cup your jaw, fingers curling around the hinges and dragging your face upward, prohibiting you from answering as he all but smashes his lips to yours, keen tongue prying through your lips to lick at your teeth.

It’s messy and enthusiastic, just like kissing Tomura always is, smears of drool glistening across your chin and dripping off your jaws in fat, sticky globs to cool in little puddles on your collarbones, dribbling steadily from the corners of your lips as they move and mash and mesh.

His hands work in tandem with his mouth, large palms sliding up your thighs and beneath your dress, hem pooling around his wrists as he reaches your pretty pink panties, revealing your bare legs to the throngs of men clustered around the gilded doors, leering at you through hazy clouds of cigar smoke.

A squeak of his name is pushed from your tongue onto his, muddled and weighted with spit, eyes popping open as vying fingers begin to twist and tear through dainty lace, elastic band snapping audibly against your waist a moment later, leaving a lingering sting in its place.

“Daddy!” you whine as your panties flit to the asphalt in a ruined little heap, legs instinctually trying to snap shut only to be kept wedged open by his hips, a dark chuckle soaking into your skin as his lips glide clumsily from your mouth to your jaw and down the curve of your neck, painting your skin in slick strokes of saliva.

“I’ll buy you more, y’little brat,” he mumbles into your shoulder, teeth sinking into the muscle a moment later and forcing a pitchy cry from your throat, the sound embarrassingly loud, echoing through the parking lot.

His jaw flexes, tenses, burrowing sharp ivory deeper into your flesh until they slice through it, staining his mouth with your blood. His tongue laves over the wound, sops up the oozing blood like it’s sugary syrup tinged with copper, and seals the bite with spit that turns frigid the moment his mouth is gone.

A large hand squeezes your thigh, fingertips dipping into plush skin as they hoist your leg up, hooking it over his hip. You can feel his clothed cock, prodding your bare hole as he ruts unevenly against you, premature little thrusts that he can’t quite seem to quell.

A collection of baritone murmurs draws your attention back to the men, tendrils of smoke coiling in the air as they watch the scene in front of them unfold, exhaling little chuckles and comments among themselves, eyes never straying from your bodies.

It all feels so fucking grimy, their gazes sludgy as they creep across your frame, thick like glue as Tomura’s free hand traces up the curves of your torso to knead your breast much too hard, eliciting a low whistle and a smattering of claps.

“Daddy, Daddy, they’re looking,” you whimper, casting another quick glance at the men and wincing when your eyes connect with theirs.

“Let them look.”

“Tomura!”

“I want them to look,” he growls, a sort of petulant possessiveness bleeding into his tone. “I want them to see who you fucking belong to, I want them to see what they can’t touch, I want them to see who it is that makes you cry and scream and cum. ”

“No, Daddy, please,” little fingers curl in the cashmere of his dress shirt, attempting to use his body as a shield. “Not here, not like this, not all out in the open—”

“Oh, come on, don’t be such a baby.”

“No, no, no,” you’re nearly weeping, head shaking in shuddered little movements.

Panic rips viciously at your chest, rising high in your voice as protests pour from your lips, heated face burrowing into the junction of his neck. You’re pawing at his shirt now, a few of the buttons popping open to reveal milky skin stretched over a prominent collarbone.

“You can do it, angel,” he chides, voice just a hint gentler. “I know you can do it for me.”

A hiccup hitches in your throat, caught painfully on a breath, interrupting your stream of pleads, burning tears leaking from your crunched eyelids and staining his collar with salt.

“Please, please, please,” the word is humid against his neck, exhaled on shaky little gasps, letters disintegrating into droplets of condensation on his scarred skin. “I don’t wanna, please, Daddy, I don’t—”

“All right, Christ,” he’s groaning over your pathetic begging, pivoting your bodies quickly and keeping an arm wrapped around your waist as he rips the drivers door open.

Collapsing heavily behind the wheel, he pulls you down with him, hands rough and cumbersome as they try to rearrange your body into straddling him.

It’s cramped, one knee digging into the centre console while the other leg bends, foot planted on the leather of the seat.

“Get my fucking cock out,” he’s spitting at you the moment the door shuts, hips pushing upwards in emphasis. “I can’t fucking wait any longer.”

You’re obeying in an instant, dainty fingers clawing at the buckle of his belt, leather cracking as you yank it free from the prong. Then he’s lifting his hips again, aiding you as your fingers hook in the waistband of his briefs and tug, pulling his trousers down with them.

His thighs spread instinctively, elastic and cotton cutting into thin muscle.

“C’mon, c’mon,” he’s muttering as his palms wrap around your hips again, dragging you towards him to hover over his swollen, leaking cock. A hand grips the base, holding it steady as he lines it up with your hole, the head bumping against your cunt.

For the breath of a moment, everything is still, your combined panting ragged as it rings throughout the car, dense and tangled. Your forehead knocks against his own, hands clamped over the back of his seat.

And then he’s shoving his cock into you with one quick, sharp thrust upward, a high whine escaping your lips as your face scrunches in pain.

Your cute little hole stings as his cock tears through it, rips you open wide and forces you to take it all, a loud cry spilling from your lips as Tomura holds your hips in place, savouring the way you spasm around him, desperately trying to adjust to his girth.

The pace is brutal right from the start—not that you’ve come to expect anything less from Tomura—the snapping of his hips vicious as he pounds into you, sweet little snarls falling from scarred lips with each slam of his cockhead against your cervix.

There’s nothing for you to do but just take what he’s giving you, his grip on your waist blooming tiny blotches of blues and purples in the shape of his fingerprints into your skin as he holds you in place, thighs flexing in time with his powerful thrusts, the soles of his sneakers skidding against the rubber floor mat as he uses his feet for leverage.

It hurts, but Tomura doesn’t care, hips rapid, rabid, ruthless as they piston into you, so rough and hard and fast that it has your entire body shuddering, the thin, sharp heel of your stiletto skidding against white leather, tearing it open.

It hurts, but it’s also so fucking good, choked little wails of his name and his title knotted on your tongue, each one fucked out of you as he bounces you on his cock, easy and effortless like you’re nothing more than his favourite little toy.

And there’s something so hot about it all, something so wicked and disgusting and deliciously depraved about fucking in the middle of a crowded parking lot, open and on display for anyone to see as the sun begins its descent below the horizon, lacking the protective veil the night brings with it.

You can feel their eyes searing into your skin, glaring and gawking, wide and unblinking, the Bentley’s thick windows doing little to lessen the smoldering of their gazes as they roam your body, the Bentley’s bulletproof glass muffling the howls and the whistles.

It sends sick thrills racing through your veins, leaving your blood fizzy and muscles tingling, a loud moan, stuttered by Tomura’s incessant bucking, tumbling from your lips.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s it, baby,” he says, but his voice is hoarse, straining under pleasure, edges of his words breathy, almost whiny in a way, as if he’s begging instead of instructing. “Show them. Show them how pretty my cock makes you.”

“Yes, Daddy, yes, Daddy,” you’re whimpering out, head nodding in tiny, short motions with your words.

And you do—ever the perfect, obedient, good little girl that you are—cumming pathetically quickly, the fast, hard drag of his cockhead over that swollen patch of tissue buried deep inside of you combined with the peeping, prying eyes resulting in your sweet cunt convulsing almost violently around his cock, thighs aching and tense as his title shatters on your tongue.

It’s so much, slick gushing down his shaft to soak into the waistband of his pants, bare thighs slippery with your essence, sick and sticky with each slap against your ass, obscene sounds echoing throughout the car.

“F-Fuck,” he gasps, the curse cracking in his throat, head knocking back against the headrest and face contorting in ecstasy, watching you through lidded eyes and thick black lashes.

His thrusts have turned messy now, rhythm sloppy and irregular as he jackhammers into you almost desperately, clenched teeth bared and on display.

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy—” you’re mewling, grappling little fingers twisting in his damp shirt, nonverbal begging imbued in the motion.

“M’cumming,” he nearly moans, cutting you off before you can even ask for it.

He gives you exactly what you want, a mere two thrusts later, whole body going rigid as his nails gorge themselves on the flesh of your hips, holding you still as his cock pumps you full of thick, hot cum.

And he’s so fucking beautiful, breathtakingly so, so much that it decays your words and kicks them from your chest in frail little huffs.

Sliver tufts of hair have flipped upwards, clumped and curled with salt, tiny dewdrops of sweat collecting on the points, glittering in the waning sunlight. The white of his shirt has turned translucent, sodden and sticking to his juddering ribs, expanding and straining beneath his heavy, laboured breaths, the whole cage starkly defined, shadows outlining all of the curves and contours, bumps and ridges, each bone and every gap.

But then he’s pulling you from your admiration, gangly arms wrapping around your body tightly.

“Mine,” he murmurs as he hugs you to his chest, whole body finally deflating, soaking into your own.

“Yours,” you whisper with a little nod, pressing chaste kisses along his scarred neck. “Yours, forever.”

His. Forever.

He hopes they all understand who you fucking belong to, now, hopes they’ll keep their grubby hands and grimy gazes off of you, now, but should any of them forget—well, neither of you are necessarily opposed to teaching them this lesson again.

#shigaraki tomura smut #shigaraki tomura x reader #bnha smut #shigaraki smut #shigaraki x reader #eee hehe enjoy!!!! it's just something smaaaall but i really enjoyed writing it!

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