Tomura Shigaraki

Coming to, the first thing you're made aware of is your position. Your hands held up by a chain and forced to stand on your tip-toes, bare to the man in front of you. His form situated on a couch, his back pressed to the back of it with his legs spread apart. His index finger circling the rim of a clear glass. His head tilted up in your direction, a smirk playing at his features.

"My, my. You're a pretty thing, aren't you?" The man sat up, his elbows resting on his knees as he admired you from his place on the sofa. His eyes darting over your frame, taking in all the markings he put on you himself.