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touch starved shigaraki who gets hard at the slightest brush of hands, at your thigh pressed against his on the couch, at the heat radiating off your body. touch starved shigaraki who can’t help it, he needs it, it’s all he can fucking think about, who loses all semblance of rational thought and restraint the instant your bare skin touches his, the instant your fingers run though his fluffy hair or your palm sits hot and heavy on his thigh or knee. touch starved shigaraki who becomes insatiable the moment you give him an ounce of affection. touch starved shigaraki who cums within seconds of you stroking his cock. touch starved shigaraki who wants more, more, more, who gets overwhelmed easily but is too stubborn to stop. touch starved shigaraki who’s growling at you through full body shudders and tears in his eyes to keep going, goddamn it, who just can’t seem to get enough, who seemingly has endless loads of cum, who can’t control himself, who pushes his hips against you and just humps whenever he can. touch starved shigaraki who wants your hands on him, his hands on you, at all times, even when it’s inappropriate—especially when it’s inappropriate. touch starved shigaraki who becomes obsessed with the idea of leaving marks—scratches, bite marks, bruises, hickeys—little visual reminders of his touch on your body, of your touch on his, proof of your combined presence. just touch starved shigaraki.