moth!tomura who goes into heat because i fucking said so.
he can't help his own primal urges as he ruts his textured, tapered cock in and out of your perfect little hole; his fangs piercing into your skin to ground himself. he'll clean up the little pinpricks of blood, he promises in slow, starving licks.
he's panting, maw dripping with drool, his antennae fluttering wildly and his wings beating hard to the pacing of his sharp breaths, just fucking you over and over. he doesn't care when you're spent, he can't stop. his knot is so heavy, so fucking thick and painful as it's pressed right against your tight human cunt, stretching the muscles open. it's throbbing, just pumping you full of his seed over and over. he's utterly entranced by the feeling, humping you and whining into your marked neck, he really can't let you go.
he doesn't speak much. you don't think he can. but you can hear him in rough, mewling breaths "breed", "breed", "breed", like it's the only fucking thing he knows. claws ripping against the already-desecrated bedsheets, just buzzing with pure animalistic hunger, his fur thick with the heady scent of his need. you can't manage a full sentence, but you can coax him with praise; pink bitten lips crying out "good boy," like a mantra that glues itself to his brain.
he's going to prove how much of a good boy he can be, how well he can fill you up and fuck into you all night long. you don't realize it until you're two hours in and sweating, crying, the only solace is the purring in his chest each time he cums, and the way he laps up your sweat and tears with his hot, wet tongue.
his urges aren't to be controlled— they're to be satiated, and you absolutely agreed to that when you left the lamp on and the window open in the first goddamn place.
moth!tomura chews angrily on your dirty clothes when he misses you. unfortunately this does more harm than good because by the time you get back home, he's whining with loose threads stuck in his fur, and you have to make sure he didn't accidentally hurt himself by swallowing what looks like 80 fucking pounds of goddamn fabric.
A Collection of mothwoman!Shigaraki Christmas Stories
fem!moth!Tomura Shigaraki x gn reader
previous: fem!moth!Tomura
fluff...ish // slice of life
This gift is wrapped in pretty paper with little trees on it. It's an awkward shape with the paper crumpled around it. Whatever is inside smells like the forest floor.
from the prompts "pine needles everywhere", "ugly sweaters", and more!
wc: 1127
You come home to find pine needles and ornaments scattered everywhere. It takes a moment before you realize what happened — Tomura ate your Christmas tree.
"It was just sitting there, you weren't doing anything with it," she grumbles, sitting cross armed on your couch with remnants still stuck in her teeth. "You don't usually have a tree in here, why that one?"
"For the holidays — a lot of people bring them in to decorate every year," you say, picking up the breakable ornaments first.
"Why though?"
"Uhm," you try to think of an answer for her that won't take a massive history lesson. "I think people originally did it to bring life into their house and keep the forest spirits warm though the winter. Something like that."
"We stay warm just fine," says the forest creature who has spent most of her recent time sitting in front of the heating vent, waiting for it to turn on.
Since she arrived, you've been trying to find ways of making Tomura more…approachable. Sure, she's always going to be a grouchy little dark cloud wandering the house as long as she's here, but if you dress her in ridiculous clothes she might be a bit less hot and you might be able to look her in the eye. Cue the thrifting.
On your last stop, you found three different ugly sweaters for her to chose from. You know she'll do the same thing she usually does (view them as food first), which is totally fine because chewing a huge hole in the back makes a space for her wings anyways. You look them over, hoping the bright colors are a nice treat for her.
She takes them from you as soon as you walk in the door.
"These smell weird," she says, holding each of them up.
"We can wash them first," you reply, reaching for them.
"No," grates Tomura, "I'm keeping this one." She holds up a dark green sweater with Christmas lights sewn in.
"I think the lights turn on if we put batteries in it," you say offhand, walking to the junk drawer. Her eyes double in size.
A few minutes later, Tomura has chewed a hole in the back of the sweater and you've added the batteries. You flip the switch and —
"They're," she holds her hands up pulsing her fingers in and out to show flashing. You bump the switch even further. All but one stop and fade to a nice glow. Not bad for a thrift store find.
Tomura leaves to change (you help her a bit but taught her that, for your own sake, she should probably change in another room.) When she comes back, she shows off her new holiday outfit.
The sweater is loose fitting, but you can still see every curve when she moves. She paired it with a pair of old cargo shorts you gave her, again thinking they'd hide more than they do.
"Why are you staring at me like that, what's wrong?" she demands. Her antennae flicker.
"Uh, nothing. You're fine — it's fine. Um, let's watch a movie."
So much for toning her hotness down.
There aren't many things the two of you eat together, but every once in a while you find something to share.
The neighbor dropped off a box of holiday cookies for you and you offered her one. She picked out a tree-shaped sugar cookie, made it one bite in, then spit the crumbles on the floor.
"Gross," she groaned, wiping the crumbs off her tongue you're — still working on getting her to use the trashcan. Then, she noticed it.
"I want to eat that," she said, pointing at the cardboard box.
"The box?" you asked.
"Yes," she replied, "it's shiny."
So, here you are now, watching a movie and sharing a box of cookies.
"The shiny stuff doesn't really make it better, does it?" She peels a bit of the holographic layer off the rest of the cardboard.
"I agree," you reply, picking a few big silver orbs off your own cookie. "The sprinkles don't really make it taste much better. Not these ones, at least."
Tomura nods in agreement.
It's a week out from Christmas so you've been watching a few seasonal movies. Today, you put one on mindlessly and sat on the couch.
Tomura pretends not to care, sitting in front of the heating vent watching from the corner of her eye, but she asks too many questions for you to believe that.
"What's that guy doing?" she asks, pointing at the screen.
"Santa?" you ask.
"Is Santa the one with the hat and deer tied to his…his box thing?"
"Yeah," you explain. "That's his sleigh. He flies around the world in it, delivering gifts like toys and candy to children."
"No he doesn't," replies Tomura, immediately debunking the myth of Santa Claus. "I'm up all night, I would have seen that."
"What if he's invisible?"
"Still no. I was a child too once and I never got toys or candy. What's candy?"
"It's sweets, kind of like the cookie. You probably wouldn't like it." She nods in agreement.
Tomura didn't really seem to understand the idea of gift giving when you first explained it. She saw some shiny packages in one of the movies you watched with her and wanted to know about them. So, you explained the tradition.
Now, the night before Christmas, you're filling a stocking for her. You bought some shiny wrapping paper you think she'll like and wrapped a few, others are just loose in the stocking. Here's what you decided on:
a nightlight
a pair of wool socks (in case her feet get cold)
a bag of wood chips (not cedar, she hates those)
a headlamp
and a big stick shaped like a candy cane (you've never seen her eat candy, but she chews on sticks a lot)
You arrange them nicely for her to find when she wakes up in a few hours. Then, you go to bed.
In the morning, you find Tomura sitting on the couch surrounded in her gifts halfway through eating the stocking. You didn't explicitly tell her not to eat the packaging so that one's on you. Then, you notice something else. In the spot where you left her stocking, there's another gift. You pick up the big ball of crinkled paper.
"That's for you," Tomura says, still chewing on the fabric.
"Thanks," you reply, curious to see what a moth gives as a gift. As soon as you unravel it, you find a pine cone. A nice pine cone.
"That one's not for eating," Tomura says, "it's for looking at."
