cold mornings
t.shigaraki x fem!reader -> 2.6k words tags: post-war tomura, teasing, established relationship, morning sex, rough, praise, slight overstim, oral m&f receiving, tomura & reader are switches, some slight plot but not really, body worship, weight gain mention (/pos), disabled tomura (prosthetic mention), not proofread. be nice to me. a/n: we're so fuckign back.
it's cold outside.
cold, and the windows are rattling from the wind, the panes shivering more than the pedestrians on the street below. the draft slips through the uneven sealing on the glass, brushing over your face and numbing your nose slightly. your bedroom never retained heat well; the age of the apartment building definitely revealed itself during any sort of weather.
tomura stirs lightly, sprawling a heavy leg across you, humming to himself as he coils around your body for warmth. like a cat, you don’t want to move— just in case you offend him even 0.01% and cause him to move away. you laid there rigidly, letting him settle over you, waiting for his breathing to slow again before fixing the blanket again.
times like these weren’t rare anymore. it just took a while to get here. and if you had to deal with his starfish sleep positions, his blanket hogging, his weird twitches, you would. you would choke on his long white hair as it fell over your face in the morning, kiss his pitted scars, and reach for an unknowingly empty water bottle after he drank it all in the middle of the night. you’d do this, you already do this, because you once knew the feeling without it.
“i love you,” he mumbles into your neck. his breath is warm, rough with sleep and low temperatures. your fingers, absentmindedly, slip into his hair at the base of his neck, scratching softly at his skin.
“i love you”.
you both say it as a statement, never a reply, never a return. it’s not “i love you, too”, because the “too” makes it feel like that’s just what you’re supposed to say. its always “i love you” as a whole, a full chested fact instead of an addendum.
and you both lost the “i love you most” war years ago.
“‘s cold in here” he tucks his forehead into the pillows, snaking himself under your arm into a position that cannot be comfortable. you wriggle down, tangling your own leg between his thighs, until your lips meet his chest and your eyes stare up at him, the sunlight catching against his cheek in little beams. his eyes are still half-closed, one eye squinting against the brightness, that familiar carmine looking down at you. “and bright,” he adds, rubbing at his eyes with flat palms.
“that’s what happens when the sun rises.” you plant a soft kiss to his chest, letting your lips hover on his warm skin.
“you’re so fucking funny,” he grumbles. “i bet you’ll tell me it’s cold out cause it’s winter, too?”
his hand traces over your body, the prosthetic fingers freezing against your bare skin. you hiss, batting the metal tips, which earns a very evil-sounding giggle from him. they sink into your hip, his other hand pressing against your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his. soft lips catch your own, and you hum in response.
tomura’s almost twenty six now— but you remember twenty four, the year the trial finally ended. twenty three, the year touya was declared stable enough to be released. twenty two, just a few months after the war had ended, and everything was still so fragile; phone calls and appointments and uncertainty. twenty one, when the league was growing from a pipe dream, filled with cheap liquor and basement smell. and in all of that time, you loved him, you love him now, and that's the only thing that’s remained unchanged.
almost five years seems like such a long time on paper. but it’s not. you still cling to the way he tastes, still memorize the way his hair falls past his shoulders, just in case. even right now, you plant the feeling of his lips, and the way they mold into yours like god intended them to always be there, into a wrinkle in your brain to never be removed.
he pulls away first, tiling your chin still. “what are you thinking about?”
“you,” you answer him plainly.
he grunts, stretching a leg out, his joints popping. “oh yeah?”
“yeah, is that so hard to believe?”
he laughs, mouth pulled back into a tiny, pretty smile. “very. there’s a ton of better things to think about than my weird ass".”
“i happen to think your ass is amazing, not weird at all”.
“whoa.”
“whoa.”
his now-warmed fingers tap on your hip, “walking” themselves down your thigh, as your laughing disturbs the birds outside. the sun is rising higher, blinding you as you try to look out the window. while you’re distracted, his hand squeezes into your ass, pulling you into him further. “hey,” you try to start, but he shushes you with another kiss, pulling you on top of him in one swift, calculated move.
“‘hey’ nothing. let me see you.” his eyes flutter as they rake over you—hair messy, in a t-shirt four times your size— like it’s the first time he’s seen the sun. the wave of cold air that slaps you as the duvet falls from your shoulders makes you shiver slightly, and he runs his hands down your arms.
bending down to meet his face, you feel him press up into you, boxers doing practically nothing to hide it. the flushing of his cheeks doesn’t help, either.
“please,” his breath tickles over your lips, voice still rough. “i’ve been so good, baby, been waiting so long.”
its been two days, mind you.
he bites his lip, sanguine eyes starving and wet. he drives his hips into you again, like a punctuation, and you can’t help but smile against his cheek, pressing kisses to the soft skin.
“hmm,” you graze his ear, pulling hair back from his neck. “hmmmmm….”
this pushes him further, and he’s rutting against you like it’s his job now. perfect.
“baby, please…” his words are getting caught in his throat as he begs, his demeanor shifting. even after all this time, he was still just as needy. “please?”
your shirt is thrown to the floor, the duvet kicked off his legs. he moans, fingers curling into your thighs, squishing into the plush skin. you’re pulling down his boxers, his tip smacking his tummy, a bead of pre dripping down into the soft trail of hair.
“fffuck,” he throws his head back as you wrap your lips around him, tasting his skin. his legs shift up, knees bending. he tries to thrust into your throat, but you wrap a hand around the base of his shaft, desperate to take your time with him. the chill from outside dissipates, the heat between the both of you is suffocating. his body clouds your mind, the smell of his salty, warm skin snags at your nerves.
he looks so pretty laid out in front of you, legs parted, breath catching in his chest. it was something you could never tire of, something you craved like air. and even more-so now, his body healing and his mind changing, he remained beautiful and perfect. his eyes weren’t as sunken, ribs no longer protruding from his torso. weight filling in the blank spaces, muscles repairing themselves slowly. softness, warmth, tangible and intimate. your eyes flick up, catching his pinked cheeks and parted lips, and you take the rest of him into your mouth, down your throat. he gasps, hands curling into the sheets, yanking them off the corners of the mattress as he bucks up, tip smacking against the back of your throat. mechanical fingers tangle into your hair as you swallow him down, tongue flat against his shaft, curling around his tip like a treat. your nose buries into the tuft of whiteish hair, smelling salty-sweet— and it only makes you want more. you suck harder, cheeks hollowing out, thanking whatever god for him.
the window rattles, fogging up from his rapid breathing and your own body in a fever-state. it feels rushing and red as blood pumps through your body, your core tightening at the sound of his mewling. short little huffs of breath curl in the air, the mattress squeaks as you drive yourself against your hand, eliciting a soft moan against his strained cock.
he cums hard against your throat, filling your mouth with sticky seed with an array of colorful words and shaky legs. you both take a second, the heavy breathing between you the only sound left around you. and for a second, you think he’s tapped out, until he sits up plainly, grabs you again, and pushes you down with your back against the mattress.
without speaking, he undresses you completely, throwing the clothes to the side, into some sort of void. the cold air returns, brushing against your nipples and making your back arch. he takes one in his mouth, fingers toying with the other, tongue flicking over the sensitive bud. he moans into your breasts, and tries his hardest to not bite too deeply. it’s too much, he’s not even inside yet, it’s too fucking much.
he stops, looking down at you. his gaze is anything but relaxed, eros seeping from his drunken smile and crazed eyes. “fuck, i need you.” he trails kisses down your neck and shoulder, biting into it, leaving a soft red mark. he covers you in petaled pinks, until his lips find your thighs. he lowers himself between them, eyes a silent plead as you part them further, his tongue immediately darting for your dripping center. he moans, pulling your legs over his shoulders so he can reach even deeper with his tongue. he then stretches you with two long fingers, curling and crossing them inside of you, tapping that spot over and over as his lips and tongue abuse your swollen clit. the tugging feeling grows inside of you, swelling dangerously, forcing cries from your pouty lips.
“fuck, fu— tomura, stop, stop, i’m—”
he doesn't stop, instead, he doubles down, going faster. his tongue flicks over while he lets out a harsh laugh. “yeah?” that fucking condescending smile flashes at you, and you tighten around his fingers pumping inside of you.
“tomura, stop, ‘m gonna c—”
he nips at your clit, humming against it. “mhm. give it to me, baby. i’m hungry.” his words drawl, slickened with arousal and pining. its enough to make that tugging rope go slack, and your hips rocket upward as you cum. you feel the heat crash over you, coating his teeth and tongue, and he licks it all up, sucking gratefully as you spill into his mouth. he swallows, buckles, and goes back down, cleaning you up all the way before popping his shiny fingers into his mouth and darting his tongue out to lap up the very last drop.
his chin is glittering with stickiness, and he giggles to himself as he wipes it with the back of his dry hand. “someone wanted that,” he comments lightly before lining up his still-heavy cock with your twitching entrance, sighing as he drags your essence down his length. he pumps it slowly, eyes latched on your face watching him, mouth still open and now upturned, an ode to pure lust.
“yeah, you.” you try to retort, but he just chuckles once before slipping his tip inside of you, the dusty pink color disappearing between your folds. you both shut up at that, too focused on the feeling to fight back. he hovers above you, gripping your sides with shaky fingers as he slips more of himself inside.
his soft moans dip into growls, he’s holding himself back. he lets his cock split you open slowly, the weight of it sinking inside deliciously. it’s almost dragging, gnawing at your insides, choking your brain until it melts to mush.
he snaps his hips once, and you can’t speak. you can feel his tip brushing against your cervix once, then twice, as his pace picks up gradually. a leg hooks around his side, the other he lifts up and holds tightly under his arm. he sits back onto his knees for better leverage to drive you straight into the fucking mattress.
his thrusts get faster, harder, pounding you roughly— a disgusting contrast against the beautiful morning sun, he fucks like he’s proving a point. the mattress groans and squeaks, the bed-frame rocking against the wall, protesting it’s accompaniment in the sick act. you’re sure that the neighbors, the birds, and even the poor bastards in the building ten feet over can hear as tomura wrecks you, pumping into your tight cunt like it owes him something. he looks it, too, his face dangerously possessive now, like tasting you was all he needed to remember exactly who the fuck he is.
“you take me so fucking well, huh?” he’s so in love with you, you can feel it in the way his cock trembles inside of you, seconds away from filling you up and going again. but he holds back, he’s getting off on the way you just look at him, doe-like and glazed over. your nails search for any of him to dig into, making contact with his arm at your side. “you’re so fucking good, you’re so fucking good to me, baby. letting my cock ruin you, takin’ care a’ me, feeding me…” he trails off, groaning as your soft noises act as a response to his filth.
he fucks into you harder, which you didn't think was possible. a prominent crack sound warbles out from under the bed, and you can tell the bed-frame is spent. you don’t care, though, you’re drunk on tomura’s cock, his pretty lips uttering depravity, the beads of sweat forming on his thick shoulders. it’s too good, and you cant help when your own hand finds your clit, desperate for more and more and more.
“mmm, can’t get enough, huh? you gonna cum all over me?” he teases, his own orgasm dangerously close. you nod, mewling out as he sinks his teeth into your neck, lapping at the slight sheen on your pretty skin.
he wraps his arms underneath you, jacking up into you, and you feel so tiny in his arms right now, so malleable. you completely let go, that small feeling soaking into you as you realize just how good he is for you. he nips at your ear, “you’d better cum on this cock soon, before i fill you up.”
his threat is empty, but you don't know that as your body pulls him in. “yeah, you like that? you want me to fill you up?” you can’t really respond, so you just whine into his chest, hoping it’s enough for him. you feel that burning rope, and you beg him to stay right there, keep going just like that, with increasingly higher and louder moans. he gets the message— rocking into you, keeping his angle just right, until you’re unraveling all over his thick cock, spilling out around the sides.
“fuck, that’s it, ’s my girl—ah fuck, fuck,” he says between pants, and he pulls out slowly before coating your thighs with a white-hot splatter. he trembles, groaning as he pumps his cock twice, his hand coated in sticky sweetness.
you both come down, the chill settling back into the room as you clean each other off. he presses a kiss to your forehead, then your lips, and you can still taste yourself on him, which makes you flutter slightly. he sits back, breathing heavily as he chuckles, and you pull the duvet back over yourself. it starts snowing outside, and you wipe the last of the condensation off the window to see it better.
“i fucking love you”. he breathes out, and you hum.
“i fucking love you”.
you reach for the water bottle on the nightstand, trying to take a sip before realizing its empty. every fucking time.
you wouldn’t change that for the world.
