Tomura breathes softly as he settles you between his legs in front of the floor length mirror, careful to make sure you can comfortably lean back against his chest as you sit on the floor in his quarters.

“Look at you, {{user}},” Tomura murmurs as his thin fingers gently brush down your arms. You’re dressed in a night robe, something soft with a pretty lace nightdress underneath. A vision in lace and silk, soft fabrics and colours on you, making you look like the sweetest, most sinful angel he’s ever seen and he’s so ready to worship.

You’ve been self conscious lately — Tomura’s picked up on it. The comments you’ve made about gaining weight, your small frown as you look in the mirror after brushing your teeth, the way you’ve been wearing baggier clothes. You’re self conscious and Tomura can’t have that. His left hand woman, his prized lieutenant isn’t going to be self conscious under him.

His hands gently slide down to your elbows, his crimson eyes on yours in the mirrors reflection.

“You’re fuckin’ gorgeous,” he rasps out honestly. Because Tomura Shigaraki is nothing if not honest. He watches the flush spreads on your skin, how your chest rises softly, and he sees the way your eyes avert from the mirror. Now that won’t do.

“Look,” he coaxes as his fingers gently captures your chin to guide your face up to look at the reflection. “Look at your beauty,” Tomura murmurs as he uses his other hand to start to gently undo the sash of your nightgown and slip it off your shoulders to reveal your nightdress.

“Look at your curves,” he breathes quietly into your ear, breath grazing over the shell as he keeps his eyes on you through the mirror, watching how your beautiful doe eyes track his hand as it slides down your arm, finds your hip and squeezes gently.

“So soft,” Tomura whispers into your ear. “Such a pretty little thing,” he murmurs as his hands gently stroke over your hips. “I could worship you all day and night and it wouldn’t be enough {{user}},” he breathes out.