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mrsdarkandyandere7 · 5 months

Text

(Dark!) BNHA: Toxic Relationship

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

Female Reader

Boys -> Hawks + Bakugo + Dabi + Deku

Reaction: Moments from your toxic relationship with your Pro-Hero boyfriend.

WARNINGS: Toxic Relationship; Abuse; Manipulation; Non-con.

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.

Let me know if you like this reaction format or what 🙂

–

Hawks

“Y/n is a real clutz, y’know. Can’t even walk on even ground without tripping over her own feet.”

Your cheeks flame with humiliation as the camera pans to the crowd that laughs heartily at the demeaning words, as if Keigo had dropped the funniest joke they’ve ever heard.

“That’s adorable.” the woman laughs, “Maybe it has something to do with the fact that she has no quirk? I believe you said she is quirkless, right?”

Keigo chuckles, nodding as he crosses an ankle over his knee.

“She sure is. Can’t even imagine what type of quirk she’d have, she’s just not the type.”

Your hand grips the remote tighter. What does he mean by that? Does he think you’re not good enough to have a quirk?

You consider turning off the TV, but fortunately the interviewer changes the subject. They casually speak about the current stance of heroes and their struggles on fighting off criminals and villains.

Keigo is charming as usual, delivering answers that are a perfect portrait of responsibility with a sprinkle of humor. He’s good like that, even though his previous answers left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Somehow, they end up reaching the topic of hobbies and free time.

“Going Pro Hero leaves little time for myself, so sadly I don’t really have much time for hobbies. Wish I had.” he says humbly. “My girlfriend has lots of them, though.”

You inhale sharply. Not again.

For your misfortune, the woman gets interested.

Perhaps because it’s an exclusive interview and her network channel gave her orders to squeeze every drop of information they can get on Hawks’ personal life.

“What type of hobbies? She looks like she’s a great cook.” she tries to guess, but Keigo bursts laughing, holding his belly in an exaggerated mannerism.

“Nah, cooking isn’t really her department. Burned eggs and half-cooked pancakes are more her style. She doesn’t even-”

You change channels in a heartbeat, bursting in tears at the low insults.

You’re not that bad. Sure, you’re not amazing at cooking, but never once did Keigo complain when he eats the food you diligently make after he returns from patrols.

And now he slanders you on national television?

And the worst part? It’s not even the first time he’s done this.

Dabi

“There’s nothing to eat in the fridge.”

“There is.”

“There isn’t.”

You stop writing your notes, swallowing back an annoyed sigh, already aware of what was happening.

“There is food in the fridge.” you repeat, “You just have to cook it.”

Dabi looks at you, unimpressed.

“No shit Sherlock. Maybe you can do it for me.”

“You serious?”

Meeting his arrogant smirk, you huff.

“Dead serious, babe. Not like you’re busy anyways.”

Your mouth drops at his audacity and you open your arms to indicate the mess of books, papers and pens in front of you.

“I’m studying, Dabi. Can’t you see that? Grow up and cook for yourself, yeah?” you snap your attention back to your books, but your mood has already turned sour.

You pretend to scribble down a few words when Dabi walks to you slowly. He peeks into your annotations, snorting.

“That handwriting is kinda shitty.” he mocks you. “Besides, what exactly are you even studying for? You’re not exactly cut out to be a doctor, y’know? Not enough brain cells in you to become that.”

You glare at him, angrily swatting away the hand that condescendingly tries to pet your hair.

“You’re such an asshole, Dabi. Maybe if your life revolved around something other than your stupid daddy’s issues, you would actually get a job. Not like Endeavour is worried sick about you, not when he’s got Shoto.” you spit the words venously.

Not the nicest words, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to bother.

A dark shade crosses Dabi’s face, his amused expression turning colder. You’d be lying if the sight didn’t ignite some fear in you.

“Is that so?” his crooked smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “And why would I need a job - or Endeavour, by that matter - when I have you?”

His hand reaches for your shoulder and there’s an edge in his eyes that immobilizes you. You shouldn’t have mentioned Endeavour.

“I’m not with you because of that bitchy attitude, you know. I like my girl to know who’s in charge. Respect is really important in a relationship and your behavior is making me really upset, baby.” his tone is scaringly soft, and his hand travels to your neck.

You hold your breath when the staples on his hand scratch against the delicate skin of your throat. “So, if you need me to remind you of your place, I’ll gladly help you with that.”

His fingers heat up at a low temperature, not enough to actually burn you but it doesn’t stop the lonely tear that slides from your eye, the only sign of the chilling terror you’re feeling.

He leans forward, kissing your forehead before sliding his hand away.

“Are we understood?”

The nod you give him is shaky at best, but Dabi smiles nonetheless.

“Now, how about that food you’re gonna make me?”

Bakugo

“I have to wake up early tomorrow.”

Besides a low hum, Bakugo doesn’t acknowledge you much, too busy French kissing your neck.

His hands head for your ass, provoking a wince in you when he gropes it with unnecessary strength, your left ass cheek being kneaded like it’s dough.

Katsuki uses his grip on your ass to push your hips forward even as you complain again. The thin fabric of his sweatpants does nothing to hide the hardness that shamelessly rubs against your thigh.

“Katsuki.”

Once again he gives no sign of hearing you, rolling his hips with more urgency and you barely catch the tired groan that almost rolls away from you.

The clock on your side reminds you that despite the early hour, you’ll only have 6 hours to sleep.

You really have to sleep and if you’re being honest, tonight you’re not feeling sexy or horny enough to sleep with your boyfriend.

But that doesn’t make you feel any less awkward when Bakugo’s movements turn more vigorous and needy, humping your naked thigh as if he’s fucking it while you remain as alive as a statue.

“Fuck, this isn’t enough.” he growls against your skin, and your heart skips a beat when his hands reach for your shorts, tugging them down halfway until you panickedly grab his wrist, wiggling your body away from his.

“Seriously, Kats, I’m not in the mood tonight.” you say, quickly pulling back your shorts.

“You fuckin’ serious right now?” he growls through gritted teeth, still hovering above you.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you timidly nod.

“Maybe we can do this tomorrow? It’s just that-”

“Yeah, whatever. Not like you haven’t used that stupid excuse on me before.”

Your eyebrows raise with surprise at the bitter tone on his voice as he gruffs, pushing himself off you.

“I’m not making up excuses.”

“The hell you aren’t.” he looks at you, angry. “Every time I try to start something, you turn into a damn nun. Always too freakin’ tired, too busy or not in the mood.”

He scowls, spiky blonde hair falling to his eyes.

“All you have to do is open your goddamn legs and let me do the rest, and you can’t even do that.”

His words hit a sore spot and he turns his back on you, settling on the distant side of the bed after delivering strained punches to the pillow to soften it up.

“Maybe I go after those Dynamite's groupies that are always throwing themselves at me. Since you never want to fuck anymore.”

You’re left too stunned to speak, sadness blossoming at the cruel meaning of his words and it’s a struggle to swallow the tears.

He wouldn’t really, would he? But your mind lingers on the disturbing thought. He’s popular with girls, even with his angry mood.

Bakugo is tall, muscular and not even the ever present scowl in his face is able to contradict the attractive facial features he’s been blessed with. Meanwhile you’re just mediocre, if even that...

Your insecurities strike back, taunting you.

Your hand reaches for his arm before you even realize it, and you’re mildly surprised when he doesn’t shake you off.

“The hell you want now?”

Pulling on his arm until he finally turns to the side, you kiss him.

He groans against your lips, allowing your hand to rest on the warm plane of his chest and you let it slide lower until it touches his clothed member.

Neither of you speak a word, but you feel Bakugo smirking against your lips while he practically shoves your shorts down.

You allow yourself go limp underneath him, letting your boyfriend fuck you in the way he wants to. Holding back a tired sigh when the fluorescent numbers on the clock mock you.

You really have to wake up early.

Deku

“Are you serious, Izuku?”

The tall hero jumps, eyes widening almost comically when he realizes you’re standing on the bedroom’s doorway and not cleaning the kitchen, like he clearly assumed you to be.

“I wasn’t- The phone-” he stammers with his words, plowing your phone onto the bed with a bit too much force.

Crossing your arms, you flash him a frustrated glare.

“You promised me you wouldn’t spy on my phone anymore, Izuku.” your stern tone has him frowning and Izuku practically sprints closer to you.

“I wasn’t spying! I was just- just checking the time.” his words aren’t convincing enough for you to actually believe in him.

You squint your eyes at him, dodging his grabby hands with a nasty slap, despite the hurt expression on his face.

“Izuku.”

“I wasn’t! C’mon, you gotta believe in me.”

You don’t.

“Even if I did go through your phone - which I didn’t - why would that be such a problem?” he complains, dragging his voice. “Do you have something to hide or what?”

You point a warning finger at him.

“Don’t you dare. This isn’t about me. You’re the one who went behind my back because you’re just too insecure to fully trust me.”

He shakes his head, emerald eyes turning feverish.

“You’re being dramatic, of course I trust you.”

“You don’t, stop lying.”

“I do trust you!” his voice rises in volume.

“No, you don’t!” you scream, voice breaking before you crumble in tears.

You’re exhausted. Of arguing, of dealing with Izuku, of everything. When did things turn so frustrating, so tiring? Why does he always have to ruin things for you?

Izuku curses under his breath before rushing to you, engulfing you in a comforting embrace as you cry on his chest.

“You don’t. You never will and I know that.” he stays silent, not contradicting you this time.

He lets you cry on his chest, his hand gently caressing your hair as he mutters apologies.

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.” Izuku hugs you harder, arms tightening around you. “I’ll do better, okay? I promise, I will.”

And like a fool, you accept his promise - even if you know it’s meant to be broken.

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cherryblossombankai · 1 month

Note

HIIII

I love youuu

Could you maybe Write headcanons about how Hawks, Dabi, All Might, Enji, Shigaraki, Present Mic and Eraser Head eat pussy? It would be amazing!

You rock my world, baby girl!

Warnings: oral (f receiving), mentions of somnophilia, quirks used for kinky stuff

Taglist: @pixelcafe-network (message me to be added to my taglist!)

Hawks

Hawks is playful at first. He likes teasing you, making you get all flustered for him. This will be achieved by blowing on your pussy or sucking gently on your folds.

Once he really gets into it though, his demeanor changes completely. He almost seems to relax from going down on you. His body goes a little slack and his eyes flutter closed.

Every so often when you whine his name, he’ll look up at you lazily, his eyes just rolling open to meet yours before closing again.

He could honestly just stay there with his head between your thighs, suckling and licking at you all night.

You’ll have to push him away to avoid being overstimulated.

Dabi

You have to beg him to go down on you. Not because he doesn’t want to, but because he loves hearing you beg.

This becomes even more apparent when he has you spread open for him. His tongue is lapping at nearly every part of your pussy EXCEPT where you need him most.

He’ll have your thighs shaking and you’re whining by the time his tongue finally touches your clit.

He’ll spend ages edging you, only to turn right back around and overstimulate you.

It’s safe to say Dabi decides when you’re done cumming.

All Might

His experience with women is pretty limited, so be prepared to spend time having to teach him how to lick pussy.

One thing about Toshinori though, he is very eager to learn and even more eager to put what he learns to good use to please the special lady in his life.

He’s very gentle at first, but it doesn’t take much for him to get a little too excited.

As he laps up your nectar, he’ll let out little groans and growls. He gets very into it.

If he’s lying on the bed, he’ll be grinding against the mattress the whole time. It’s not uncommon for him to accidentally make himself cum this way.

Endeavor

Enji is a very busy man, and he can’t always take the time to indulge with you. So, when he indulges in your body he makes the most of it.

He’ll get a little nasty about it because he just has to be the best, and nothing gets him harder than hearing you scream his name.

Any position works for him, even eating you out from behind. He’s particularly fond of having you sit on his face. His hands will be full of your ass, guiding you to ride his face.

He makes a little bit of noise, mostly growling.

Sometimes when he gets a bit too worked up he’ll start smoking from his quirk getting activated. He’s even sparked a little before, which of course didn’t go well.

Shigaraki

He wants to go unhinged. The desire to spread you open and devour your pussy like it’s the nectar of a goddess is unbearable. But because of his quirk, he has to be so careful.

Having to use so much care and caution whenever he touches you, drives him insane. He can never truly lose himself in you the way he desires.

So instead, he expresses himself through grunting and growling against your pussy. He may not be able to touch you with all of his fingers but the ones he can use are digging into the meat of your thighs.

“Tastes so good,” he groans between lapping at your pussy.

He loves making you feel good. The way you praise him so sweetly and swear he’s the only one who can make you feel this way, it gives him purpose.

Present Mic

Let’s just get this out of the way: he’s basically a sex god.

Present Mic is adventurous and fearless in his pursuit of bringing you pleasure.

One of his go to moves is to hum against your pussy, using his quirk to make the vibrations intense. His mouth basically becomes a vibrator, and he’ll do this while sucking on your little clit.

He’s really down to eat you out anytime and anywhere. Kitchen counter, classroom, even in the bathroom stall of your favorite club.

His skills are unmatched. Once he’s gone down on you, you’ll never be the same.

Eraser Head

Aizawa loves eating you out just as much as you love getting eaten out.

It’s sort of how he unwinds at the end of a day. After going through the domestic dinner routine with you, he drags you to bed.

He can and will go down on your until he falls asleep suckling on your clit.

Then he wakes up in the middle of the night, his head on your thigh, and starts all over again.

He enjoys waking you up with oral, watching your sleepy face contort with pleasure.

#all might x reader #toshinori x reader #all might x you #toshinori yagi x reader #aizawa x reader #hizashi yamada #yamada hizashi #present mic x reader #dabi x reader #hawks x reader #endeavor x reader #bnha x reader #endeavor x you #🌸.writes #🌸.headcanons

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pretty-sparkle-bomb · 2 months

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"Please?" You whined, giving Dabi the biggest puppy eyes you could muster.

"No." he grumbled, turning away from you and focusing his attention on his phone screen. Shigaraki was passing out orders in the group chat like crazy.

"But they don't have to be pink!" you whined, stomping your feet.

Dabi looked at you sceptically and rolled his eyes.

"I knew you didn't love me." you pouted turning away. He put his phone down with a groan.

"Princess, I'm one of the most feared villains in the entirety of Japan. You know I can't walk into the meeting with bright-coloured nails." he emphasized, throwing his hands in the air.

"But they'll look matching…" You pushed.

A few minutes later, you were sitting on his lap innocently painting his nails a midnight blue.

"Told you they match your eyes." you giggled, finishing up the last coat.

He hummed, smiling slightly.

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sednas · 9 months

Text

─ YOU'RE STILL MAD?

ও dabi x gn!reader

ও content warnings: ns/fw, hatefuck vibes, degradation

"you're still mad at me?"

of all the moments he could have asked you that question, he chose this one.

"a-are you fucking serious right n... now?" you try to articulate, your hands tugging at the sheets, your eyes rolling back in pleasure.

"answer me." dabi orders, pulling you by your arms so he can go deeper, harder.

he's pounding inside you way too fast for you to stay sane, his angry tip pushing against your most sensitive spot again and again, until you're drooling on the mattress. you're thankful that he's holding your arms right now, otherwise you'd fall flat on the bed under the assault of his thrusts.

"still... mad at you..." you manage to say between your whines.

you hear him laughs mockingly behind you, biding your wrists behind your back and grabbing a handful of your hair to lift your head and look at your face, he slowed his pace, his cock now lazily pumping inside you. you feel him getting closer to you, pushing his chest against your back and forcing you to sink into the bed.

"if you're so mad at me why are you squeezing me so fucking tight right now, mmh?"

you raise your eyes to meet his blue ones, he's arching an eyebrow, his mouth slightly parted, you can see his tongue sliding on his teeth with lust as he waits for your answer.

and you really want to answer, you'd love to put this fucker back into his place, but you can't, not with the way he's grinding against you, not when the heat emanating from his body is so addictive. your legs quiver under his weight and he firmly grabs your waist while his other hand is still binding your wrists together.

"silent treatment uh? let's see how long you can keep it quiet then."

without any warning, he starts thrusting inside you again, fast, his cock ravishing your insides and you bite your lip in pleasure.

"look at you, drooling all over the covers, so fucking pathetic." he mocks and he releases his grip on your wrists to grab both of your arms again.

his roughness makes you clench around him and you can't suppress the moan that escapes your lips when you hear the wet sounds of your two connected bodies.

"gonna cum, dabi... I'm so close!" you cry out and you don't even have to look at his face to know that he's smiling.

"answer me first. are you still mad at me?" he asks again, accelerating his thrusts until you're uncontrollably shaking under him.

drunk on the pleasure he's giving you, your blood pulsing inside your veins, you shake your head stupidly, your tongue almost lolling out of your mouth.

" n-not mad anymore... ah! love you so much dabi... please!" you practically beg him and feel your orgasm getting closer and closer, his hips slamming relentlessly against your ass while he smiles condescendingly.

dabi would love to tease you a bit longer but the way your hole tightens around him like a vise makes him forget his own sadistic nature and you both finally cum together, whines and groans mingling and reverberating around the room. he finally let go of your arms and you fall flat on the bed, completely exhausted, your body still trembling.

"you love me, uh?" he asks with a smirk.

"and where do you think you are right now baby?"

"go to hell dabi." you sigh and bite your lip as you feel his cum dripping out of you.

─ REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED <3

#divider made by @/hopelesslygaysstuff #mha smut #mha x reader #mha headcanons #bnha smut #bnha x reader #bnha headcanons #dabi headcanons #dabi smut #dabi x reader

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r4spb3rr13s · 4 months

Note

i saw the news :( however i have come to re-enter! So my mcbling angel, could we pretty please get a part 3 of meet mcbling hotties with maybe shigiraki, sabi, maybe a little twice, maaaybe a little gentle criminal.... i luv u and ur my bae as well cutie >3<

- 🍥 anon

villains meeting their mcbling gf

♱ shigaraki, twice

♱ pt.1 here pt.2 here

notes: dabi is in part one!! also this may be ooc 😔 and sorry bby but i have no clue how to write gentle criminal 😓

Tomura is in his usual spot, staring the TV down with enough rage to burn holes in the screen. Naturally, it’s because All Might is on screen. Like always.

The bar is in a low hum, filled with smoke from Dabi’s refusal to step out to huff on his cigarette. Spinner and Toga are playing cards, and her giggles bounce off the walls. Other than that, it’s fairly quiet.

Until the door creaks open. Then it’s silent.

And there… you stood. Awkwardly.

Tomura’s head snapped towards you with a sickening crunch resounding through the air. Any words he had reering up are stuck in his throat, though.

The light is shaping you like an angel. A very promiscuous angel, that is. A tight, pink dress hugs your curves and the platform wedges you have on accentuate every step your fake-tanned legs take.

“Uh… Himiko?”

Said girl squeals, and her chair scratches across the floor like nails on a chalkboard as she jumps up. Tomura watches as she runs up to you and wraps you in a hug.

“What the fuck…” Dabi trails off, eyes pointed at Tomura. Everyone is looking at Tomura, trying to gage his reaction. It snaps him out of his stupor.

“Toga, who is this?” He rasps out, pointing a lazy knuckle at you. His eyes barely flit over you, but when they do, you see a small bit of pink blossom on his pale face.

It’s weirdly cute.

Himiko squeezes you so hard you think she might suffocate you to death. I mean, you wouldn’t put it past her, but still.

“This is Y/n!!”

She is met with blank stares.

You roll your eyes and shrug her off, making her pout. Taking a cautious step forward, you catch Tomura’s eye - you know exactly who he is.

You’ve admired him for a while, and the League, in silence. You’ve been on chat rooms with a false IP address, watched their dark-web videos, heard their lackeys talking in the darker parts of town.

Himiko found you when you were talking to one of the lackeys, and surprise, surprise, took a liking to you. She gushed about the League, and weirdly…

You wanted in.

You strode forward, ignoring the room’s eyes on you - you were just focused on Tomura Shigaraki.

He watched you with stiff, darting red eyes. It was like he couldn’t decide where to rest his eyes - everytime he moved his gaze, there was your soft, glowy skin or something pink or patterned or your soft hair-

“Y/n L/n,” You said and held your hand out.

Tomura watched your hand as he leant on his own hand. His lip curled and you faltered. But, he fished out a thick-lined glove, slipped it on, and grabbed your hand.

His eyes fell on yours as your hands shook. The pink on his face was almost the same colour as your dress, and his cracked lip twitched.

“I’m here to join, by the way.” You clarify, heat rising to your own cheeks.

Your hand is still in his. Tomura notices and drops you like a hot pan, quickly looking away. He mutters a small, ‘okay’ and notions for a pen from Kurogiri - another member you’re familiar with.

Tomura scribbled something down with his thick glove on, muttering under his breath in a raspy, crisp voice. The sound cuts through the thick air and makes the hair on the back of your neck.

He stops writing and holds out the paper to you. It’s… a number. You almost facepalm.

You cock a brow, and Tomura goes pink again, but refuses to look at you.

He clears his throat, itching his neck absent mindedly. “I’m busy now. Call me later and we’ll talk about your membership.”

:::

Jin is tired. Spent. Exhausted. Fatigued. He’s practically swaying on his feet as he breathes in the smoke from his cigarette. He nods at Dabi as he walks past and enters the dingy bar.

If he could just close his eyes-

A loud whistle rings through the air, and for a startling moment, Jin thinks he’s getting hit on by the builders across the street. Until you come into view.

Your confident stride falters and he watched with an open jaw as you pause to scream at the men in hi-vis.

There’s a small, douchey part of him that can’t even blame them - you’re gorgeous!

Your tattered denim shorts sit low on your hips, and the majority of your torso is on show in the low light of dusk. A small, pink tube top is wrapped around your chest, and big jewellery jangled with every finger you jab as you scream.

Your verbal assault on the builders finally halts when they let out a hurried apology and decide to get back to work. With a sigh, you push your hair out of your face and move on.

Well, you would if there wasn’t another guy in your way.

He’s tall, muscular and blond, with eyebags that rivalled the purple of your velvet bag. The smoke from the cigarette in between his fingers is curling around his neck like a choker, and brought stark attention to his agape mouth. You scoff.

“What? Want your turn?”

“Yes please- no, no thanks-” He barks out, then covers his mouth. Pink spreads across his cheeks from under his hand, and you cock a brow.

“…Yes or no?”

“Yes-no-”

The poor guy seemed torn. He was muttering to himself now, back rigid and face pink. It was… endearing in a way.

You cast a short glance back to the builders, and Jin takes the moment to drink in the size of the silver hoops hung either side of your face. He could probably fit his hand through them, they’re so big. Or-

“Listen, you’re cute… so I’ll give you number,” You mutter and take a short step towards him. Your sparkly eyes search his face, and he curtly nods, still as pink as bubblegum. “Okay, just, if they ask, I was giving you directions.”

Again, he nods. Like a well behaved dog, you think.

The poor man is left in a mental battle watching you leave. He does know for sure, though, the paper clutched in his hand with your number on is becoming his most sacred possession.

:::

notes: THIS SHIT IS NOT PROOFREAD IM SORRY 😭

taglist: @marzkqx @aespie @itzlittlemissperfect @im-so-tired-sorry @mangalovesanime-blog @livingmydreamlife5555

#{ mcbling baddie }#bnha #bnha x reader #bnha villains x reader #mha #mha x reader #mha villains x reader #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki #shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #bnha twice #bnha twice x reader

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xxsabitoxx · 1 year

Text

xxSabitoxx Imagines/Drabbles Masterlist

╰┈➤ Return to Master Post

╰┈➤ Full Fic Masterlist

╰┈➤ Headcanon Masterlist

Updated Aug.12th 2023

Awkward Encounter | Gyutaro x AFAB Reader | FLUFF/SUGGESTIVE

Play Fight | Shinobu x AFAB Reader | SUGGESTIVE

Shit Talker | Sanemi x GN Reader | SMUT

Sanemi Falls In Love For The First Time | Sanemi x GN Reader | FLUFF

Rengoku Falls In Love For The First Time | Rengoku x GN Reader | FLUFF

Plush | Rengoku x Tengen x Wives x Reader | FLUFF/SMUT

Take it and Shut Up | Megumi x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Stay Still | Sukuna x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Attention Please! | Tengen x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Caught in the Rain | Tengen x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Earn It | Shinobu x AFAB Reader | SMUT

First | Nobara x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Just For You | Inumaki x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Seven Minutes in Heaven | Giyu x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Seven Minutes in Heaven | Itadori x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Referring to Them as a “friend”| Giyu, Rengoku, Sanemi | NO SET GENRE

Dating Okkotsu Yuta | Yuta x GN Reader | FLUFF/SMUT

JJK and Your Habit of being Topless | JJK Characters x AFAB Reader | NO SET GENRE

Dating Rengoku (Modern AU) | Rengoku x GN Reader | FLUFF/SMUT/ANGST

Mornings with Sanemi | Sanemi x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Singer Shinobu | Singer Shinobu x AFAB Shy Reader | FLUFF/SMUT

Bathing with Giyu | Giyu x GN Reader | NO SET GENRE

Gojo & Geto Fighting for your Attention | Gojo & Geto x GN Reader | NO SET GENRE

Childhood Friends | Megumi x AFAB Reader | FLUFF

Winning His Heart | Akaza x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Dramatic Megumi | Megumi x AFAB Reader | FLUFF

His Favorite | Douma & Reader | NO SET GENRE

Irresistible | Akaza x AFAB Reader | SMUT

His Personal Assistant | Hawks x AFAB Reader | NO SET GENRE

First Love | Kakyoin x AFAB Reader | FLUFF

No Escaping | Sukuna x AFAB Reader | SMUT

A Guiding Hand | Rengoku x NB Reader | SMUT

Tempest | Sanemi x AFAB Demon Reader | MILD DEAD DOVE /SMUT

Cravings | Sanemi x AFAB Pregnant Reader | FLUFF

The Fourth Wife | Tengen & Wives x AFAB Reader | NO SET GENRE

Mornings with Makio | Makio x AFAB Reader | NO SET GENRE

Mornings with Hinatsuru | Hina x AFAB Reader | NO SET GENRE

Mornings with Suma | Suma x AFAB Reader | NO SET GENRE

Smile | Megumi x AFAB Reader | SMUT

I Hate Him | Sanemi x AFAB Reader | FLUFF

Uzui Gang & Public Tension | Tengen x Wives x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Tengen & His Husband | Tengen x AMAB Reader | FLUFF/SUGGESTIVE

Reward | Muzan x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Loosen Up | Sanemi x Giyu x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Team Bucciarati & Walking in on you Changing | Bucci Gang x AFAB Reader | NO SET GENRE

College Roommates Shinobu | Shinobu x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Easy | Douma x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Cut | Aki x AFAB Reader | NO SET GENRE

Needy | Geto x AFAB Reader | SMUT

I Want a Baby | Tengen x AFAB Reader | FLUFF/SMUT

Experience | Kishibe x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Promise Me | Giyu x GN Reader | ANGST

Being Sanemi’s Tsugoku | Sanemi x AFAB Reader | NO SET GENRE

Sanemi at the Butterfly Estate | Sanemi x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Secret Relationship | Sanemi x AFAB Reader | FLUFF

Sanemi being Vocal | Sanemi x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Exploring with Sanemi | Sanemi x AFAB Reader | CRACK/FLUFF

Dating Dabi | Dabi x AFAB Reader | NO SET GENRE

Sanemi and his Newborn | Sanemi x AFAB Reader | NO SET GENRE

Urogi’s Sensitive Wings | Urogi x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Personal Heater | Rengoku x AFAB Reader | NO SET GENRE

Sensitive Aizetzu | Aizetsu x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Rengoku’s Nurse | Rengoku x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Twenty One | Rengoku x GN Reader | FLUFF/ANGST

Tengen and your Panties | Tengen x AFAB Reader | SUGGESTIVE

Kyojuro and his Newborn | Rengoku x AFAB Reader | FLUFF

Drunk Giyu | Giyu x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Drunk Tengen | Tengen x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Drunk Kyojuro | Rengoku x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Pissing off Sanemi | Sanemi x AFAB Reader | SUGGESTIVE

Recoil | Haganezuka x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Meeting the Rengoku Family | Rengoku x GN Reader | FLUFF

Stalker Giyu | Giyu x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Pride Month Imagines | Tengen | Shinobu | Rengoku & Giyu

Pull Out | Rengoku x AFAB Reader | SMUT w/concerning themes

Lecture | Rengoku x AFAB Kocho Sister Reader | SUGGESTIVE/CRACK

Keeping Secrets | Giyu x AFAB Wife Reader | FLUFF

Never Mine | Geto x GN Reader | SMUT?/ANGST

Pheromone Perfume | Sanemi x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Guard Dogs | Satoru + Suguru x GN Reader | NO SET GENRE

Competition 15k special | Sanemi x Giyu x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Karoke 15k special | Satoru x Suguru x AFAB Reader | SMUT

2K notes · View notes

inkykeiji · 8 months

Text

what now?

character: dabi | todoroki touya

genre: smut + angst

notes: eeeee happy birthday dabi!!! sorry i’m a day late, and sorry i keep writing angst for your birthday. this piece is set directly after dabi’s touya reveal, in that dingy little safe house he seems to love so much! please heed the warnings below and stay safe!

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, rough sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, dom/sub dynamics, use of master/owner/sir, fem!reader, minimal prep, biting, branding, blood, the piece switches between both dabi and touya as names, size kink + size difference, spanking, objectification, degradation + dumbification, a lil bit of praise, dabi’s pretty mean when he’s fucking, dabi carries reader, toxic relationship, dacryphilia, choking

words: 8.8k

It’s dark by the time he returns, reeking of charred flesh and ash. He had stashed you away in a decaying little safe house—a place no one else knew about, a place that was his and his alone—and had told you to wait for him. He had promised he’d return to you, no matter how long it took, no matter what happened, he’d be back, pinky swear.

Touya never breaks his pinky swears. Dabi might, though.

You had seen his video. You had been watching the news just like he told you to, anxious, waiting for any sign or indication of trouble, of terror, but the heat and the dust had been too much for the news cameras to penetrate, and there had been no reports of casualties on either side.

Yet.

It’s astonishing to think that the whole world knows his name now—his true name, the one buried in his blood and his bones, the one staining his soul, the one he can’t snuff out, no matter how hard he tries. You remember the first time he told it to you.

“Touya.”

He had said suddenly, randomly, while laying in bed with you one night back at the League’s hideout—back before all of this was set in motion, back when there was just the gentle clink of glass sounding beneath the floorboards, followed by a muddled curse and the rapid mashing of plastic buttons.

It was muttered out in the dead of the night, when the wind was stagnant and the moonlight shimmered through grimy windows, brilliance of the beams diffused by the dirt, turning everything a hazy silver, glinting off his stitches.

“Hmm?”

“That’s my real name. Touya.”

“Touya,” you had murmured to yourself, rolling the letters around on your tongue, allowing them to seep into your flesh. “It’s beautiful.”

“Todoroki Touya.”

Oh.

“It’s still beautiful,” you said softly, after several moments of silence, feeling Dabi melt beneath your words, tender yet resolute. “Even if the man who gave it to you isn’t.”

“Yeah,” he had responded, though his voice had sounded weird to his ears; odd, off, broken. “Fuck that guy.”

And that had been it. You hadn’t made a big deal about it, or pushed him to tell you more, or badgered him with questions and curiosities about his past. You had just accepted it and continued on.

He had offered up shards of information over the next few months, always murmured out in the dead of night, always a piece and never a whole, always something too jagged to fit with any of the other pieces of his jigsaw he had gifted you.

But it didn’t matter. Who he was, his past, the name he carries around and DNA twined inside his body—none of it mattered. He was, and will always be, the man you love, irregardless of the name he was born into, and the curse it bears.

The harsh unlatching of that decrepit painting startles you from your stewing thoughts, your gaze snapping toward the noise just in time to catch Dabi crawling through the trick window, entrance hidden behind the heavy gilded frame.

Your legs toss themselves off the fraying couch the instant his gaze meets yours, heart kickstarting thick bouts of adrenaline to rush through your veins, footsteps keeping time with the tattered exhales each bang of your heart sends barrelling up your throat, body colliding into his only a moment later.

He catches you with ease, laughing loudly as he sweeps you from the floor, strong arms locked at the wrists around your lower back. Instinctively, your ankles hook together at the base of his spine, fingers immediately wandering into the dirty hair at the nape of his neck, whole body wound around his own.

He’s still laughing, bright and breathless and so, so beautiful, even as he crushes his lips to yours, even as your tongue pries past his teeth and slams against his own. It spills down your throat in warm vibrations and you swallow it readily, greedily, hands sinking further into tufts of ink-tinged ivory and twining the strands around your knuckles, desperate to tug him closer.

The tang of death stings your tongue, earth and copper and smoke, so poignant you swear you can taste their screams, those who lost their lives to his flames and Machia’s feet and the rubble left in their wake, but you don’t care.

You don’t care, because he’s here, he’s home, he’s safe and back in your arms, with his teeth clacking against yours and his spit flooding your mouth and his unruly little giggles consistently breaking the flow of your lips.

“Did you see it? Huh? Did you see it?” he hurls the words into your mouth, lips still mashed against your own but spread in a smile, sapphire eyes twinkling.

“I did,” you confirm with a nod, tips of your noses nudging. “I did, it was brilliant; you were brilliant, baby.”

“I know,” he snickers, foreheads knocking together, breath wafting in small, ragged pants across your face as his feet begin to move, unable to stand still. “It couldn’t have gone more perfect, I swear to fuckin’ Christ. It was—It was better than I could’ve ever imagined. I can’t even believe it.”

Words continue to tumble from his lips in excited gasps as he twirls in wide lopsided circles slow and careless around the decaying little safe house, his boots conjuring small puffs of dust beneath their soles.

“I wish you could’ve been there, baby, honest. I wish you could’ve seen that fucker’s face, it was fuckin’ priceless, and—Oh! Fuck, how could I forget the best part!”

Halting his whirling, he pulls back to look at you more resolutely, as if he has to see the whole picture, sapphire darting around your face all wild and erratic, his smile spreading impossibly wider; uncanny, inhuman, eyes glowing with the thrill of the secret he’s about to spill.

“Shouto was there, too! How much happier could a coincidence get!”

“Shouto?”

“I wasn’t expecting him to be there, but seriously, it was the cherry on top.”

His feet begin to move again, resuming his impromptu dance number, adrenaline thrumming in his veins, overflowing from his orifices—smile stretching, chest swelling.

“His presence is what really made it spectacular, you know? Sure, dad was broken, but Shouto…” Dabi shakes his head. “Little baby Shouto was knocked off his fucking feet.”

“Oh, I can only imagine…”

…How horrifying of a realization it must’ve been; how terrifying it must’ve felt to encounter your father’s worst mistake in the breathing, bloodied flesh.

“I doubt he even remembers me—” Dabi continues, “he was only five or so when I died; he barely knew me at all.” He laughs, but it sounds tangled, caught on something buried in his throat. “Imagine that! Your big brother, only ever a ghost haunting your life, back from the grave!”

“I’m sure he was very shocked,” you giggle, pressing your forehead to his again, fingers combing through the hair at the back of his skull.

“Shocked? Baby, he was beyond shocked. He was—He was—I don’t even have a word for it!”

Another laugh spills from his lips, jagged and squeaky and full of razors.

And, oh, how breathtakingly beautiful genuine happiness looks on him, even if it’s tinted with derangement—the edges of his smile a little too sharp, the glint in his eye a little too vicious.

“The whole thing sounds magnificent,” you admit, soft and genuine, lips brushing his own. “I’m so happy it went so well.”

“It was perfect,” he gushes in a sigh. “The only way it could’ve been any more perfect is if mom, Yumi, and Natsu were there—but I’m sure they all caught the broadcast.”

You’re sure they did, too. That news programme had been playing on every major screen across the entirety of Japan; you’d have to be buried beneath a rock to have missed it.

He’s still babbling, feet still hopping and skipping around with you cradled tightly to his chest as the anticipation of his return finally wears off, clears from your system, and you take a real, good look at him.

And your heart sinks.

New burns have bubbled up on his cheeks, leaving only a sliver of skin between them and the scars below his eyes. Staples have snapped in half, hanging precariously from chunks of dead flayed flesh, their broken edges tinged an ugly black, burnt by Todoroki flames. Speckles of crimson are splattered artfully across his hair—though whether they belong to him or someone else, it’s hard to tell—the small remaining patches of healthy skin marred by dried black dye.

“Baby,” you breathe, struggling to keep your smile from trembling, struggling to keep concern from seeping into your voice. “You’re filthy.”

“Yeah, you should’a saw the other guy!” he giggles at his own joke, strident and sticky in his throat, but his smile is still so bright.

“And you’re hurt.”

He blows a dismissive breath from between his lips. “Can barely feel a thing, though—and I’m not even rolling right now!”

“Still,” you say, a frown beginning to weight the corners of your grin. “You should let me clean you up.”

“But it isn’t even painful.”

“Still,” you repeat, tender fingers brushing strands of white back from his forehead. “I want to clean you up.”

Begrudgingly, he allows it, sat on the closed toilet lid and continuing to chatter on as you tend to his wounds, words bubbling up on breathless excitement, massive smile still slapped, almost uncomfortably so, across his face.

Oxygen keeps escaping him before he finishes his sentences, everything bouncy and enthusiastic, and it’s such a stark contrast to the Dabi you’re used to, with his languid apathetic drawl and unhurried, uninterested speech.

And despite the subject matter, it’s nice, it’s cute.

He tells you about his father’s paralyzation and the tears in Shouto’s eyes and the horrified panic coating their faces as careful fingers dab and wipe and smear, meticulous in their task, devoted to their cause, your head nodding along with his endless recounter, emitting the perfectly placed ooh’s and mhmm’s, asking questions when the opportunities present themselves.

And even though you love seeing him this way, full of pure joy and exhilaration, you can’t quite kill the question sprouting in the depths of your mind, chewing on the back of your brain.

What now?

It’s on the tip of your tongue, searing your tastebuds, begging to be spoken. You try to swallow it down, but it claws at the back of your tongue, clinging, curling up in your throat and refusing to be forgotten.

What now? What’s going to happen now that Enji knows of his existence? What’s going to happen the next time he encounters his eldest child, swathed in the flames he once cherished so dearly, praised so hopefully, eating away at his boy as his hatred burns higher, blazes brighter, consumes his blood and flesh and bones and hopefully swallows down the monster that bred him in the process?

Will there even be anything left at all? Of either of them?

Does Dabi even care? Does Touya?

You know he’s still in there, despite the fact that his heart’s been corroded by the bitterness that’s been festering inside of him for eleven years—you’ve seen him.

You’ve seen him, trailing along with Toga, causticity eating at his teeth as he spits that she’s fucking stupid, this is so fucking stupid, but allowing himself to be led anyway, zero resistance as her tiny hands tug him along behind her bouncing form, feet following willingly.

You’ve seen him, meticulously picking through the glass bowls at the League’s small Halloween get together, checking and then double checking that everyone’s favourite candy is there, growling that he really doesn’t give a fuck, actually, he’s just looking for his own all the while, despite the fact that his fingers have skipped over that particular chocolate bar several times.

You’ve seen him, on those nights where Tomura just can’t get to sleep, sprawled out on the couch in the early hours of the morning, dirty boots an inch from Tomura’s crossed legs, staring blankly at his phone and waving Kurogiri off with a go to bed already, old man.

So what now?

“He tried to cool me down.”

The sudden switch to a quiet, monotonous voice snaps you from your tangle of thoughts, eyes refocusing on Dabi’s face, realizing you’ve rubbed a streak of his cheek near raw.

“What?”

“Shouto. He tried to cool me down. With his ice.” A pause, a drop of blood, balancing precariously on his lash line. “Like…Like how mom used to.”

His Adams apple bobs with the heft of a thick swallow, his eyes blank and unblinking, staring at your shoulder.

The blood in your veins runs frigid, hand held rigid and hovering over his wounds.

“During the fight?”

His gaze stays fixed on that spot as he nods, slowly, just once.

“I was overheating, and he…”

Another beat of silence passes, the sound of your own breathing echoing in your ears, harsh and fast with the rapid beating of your heart. The blood collecting along his lashes finally overflows, escaping their confines to pool in the crinkles of dead skin and coat gold in crimson.

“Hey,” you murmur, so gentle, so soft it inspires a second wave of blood, dainty hands cupping his jaw and tilting his face to yours.

Thumbs swipe through the thick streams of scarlet trickling down his cheeks, smearing bright strokes across healthy skin. His eyes, red and glazed but tearless, hold yours for a moment, his nostrils twitching twice.

Beneath your palms, the hinges of his jaw flex with another dense swallow, warped smile wobbling a little.

“Whatever,” he says, voice less than an octave off from normal. “Doesn’t matter, not important.”

It does, you want to say. It is, you want to insist—

“All I want to do now is celebrate the best day of my life with the love of my life.”

Saliva pools beneath your tongue, the threat of tears thick in your throat.

“Touya…” your eyes search his face, worry woven into the wrinkles between your furrowed brow. “It—”

“Please,” he whispers, so quiet it’s barely more than a wisp of air, his eyes closing briefly for a moment as he gathers himself, lids lifting a second later. “Let me have this.”

You want to, you so desperately want to—want to allow him this space to be happy, unfiltered and unadulterated, even in all of it’s unhinged, brainsick fervour. You don’t want to ruin this for him, the self-proclaimed Best Day of His Life, but…

What now?

It’s nipping at your lips, leaving them tingling and twitching, but you press your tongue to the roof of your mouth and suck, melting the question in the smothering heat.

Now is not the time to ask. You will save this question, will fold it into a neat little shape and stash it away in your stomach, where it will rage and roar and demand to be spoken, where you will shove it down and stomp it into submission until it is time to be released.

You refuse to steal this moment from him.

“Okay,” you finally murmur, stroking his blood-slicked cheeks. “Okay.”

It’s hard to ignore the concern scraping at the walls of your skull, to disregard the talons tearing at your heart, to snuff out the flames licking at your lungs, but you’ll do it for him.

Always for him.

And for the first time tonight, his smile softens, sharp edges gone melty with love.

Large hands, hardened by blue fire and the ends of Marlboros, skim up your bare thighs, the callouses adorning his palms scraping roughly against sensitive skin, inspiring trails of chills in their wake. The hem of your dress pools around his wrists as his touch climbs higher, filthy fingers, with dirt caked beneath their nails and grime lining their cuticles, wiggling their way beneath a frilly pink waistband, curling almost protectively around your hips, tips digging into supple flesh just shy of too hard.

“A perfect day deserves a perfect end, don’t you think?”

The question drips from his lips in a sultry murmur, stare heavily lidded as he tugs you down into his lap, a leering smirk smeared across his face.

“Oh, yeah?” your arms wind around his neck, nose bumping against his own. “And what’s that?”

“Stuffing my favourite girl full of my cum.”

Lips trace along the edge of your jaw as he speaks, words leaving sloppy strokes of saliva as his mouth moves against you skin.

“Over,” kiss, “And over,” kiss, “And over again, until it’s leaking out of her pretty little pussy, all over her pretty thighs, all over my pretty cock.”

“I think that—ah—I think that’s a great way to end the day.”

“Mm,” he hums, painting a flat, wide stroke of saliva up the column of your neck, the tip of his tongue tracing your cupids bow, nose bumping against your own. “It’s my favourite way to end the day.”

His lips press to yours, tongues finding each other instantly, dragging across one another in crude, sloppy caresses, heavy and slow and firm as they grind, massaging together in little circles. It’s almost as if you’re trying to soak up his taste, to permanently imbue your tastebuds with it, to keep a little reminder of him—a single piece—with you forever.

It’s messy, thick drool oozing from the seams of your conjoined mouths, but you don’t care, licking excess saliva from the corners of his mouth, sucking the dribble steadily collecting on his bottom lip, lapping up the foamy spit coating his chin staples, leaving them gleaming with you.

Lips clash again, teeth gnawing their way into the warm, wet heat of mouths, desperate to devour any part of each another you possibly can, sucking gasps and mewls and laughs from one throat into another, inhaling shards of your souls and swallowing them down, burying them in pits of stomachs and depths of guts—keepsakes, kept safe.

You can taste his blood in your mouth, salty with the tears that can’t fall, trickling from the edges of his eyes. Unfurling from your mouth, the tip of your tongue licks a thin strip up his ragged cheeks, over dead skin and warm bumpy metal, sopping up crimson sadness and consuming it.

You hold it for him, extract it from him, bear it with him, letting it soak into your heart where it can stay, for as long as he needs it to.

But that isn’t enough for him, because he wants something in return; he wants your blood, too.

Sharp teeth sink into your bottom lip, sucked taut and pressed tight to his tongue, a muted chuckle vibrating in his chest at your responding yelp. The strong hinges of his jaw flex, burrowing ivory deep, deep, deeper into your flesh, until the barrier snaps and copper explodes on his tongue, sticky and potent and so, so much.

He refuses to release you, ribs rattling with a growl when you try in vain to tug your lip free from its captors, a sob hitching in your throat, followed by a wheezy whine.

“Stay put, goddamn it,” he mumbles the words through his occupied teeth, tongue stroking your lip in the process. “M’not finished.”

Your squirming stops almost instantly, body deflating into his own, and he huffs out a snort, hot against your face.

The grip of his teeth loosens marginally, the tip of his tongue laving over the steadily weeping wound in firm, thorough strokes, tracing every indent his teeth left behind, dips rapidly swelling and filling with watered down blood, a mold of six teeth carved into your flesh.

The strength of his suction increases, siphoning fresh blood from the tiny gashes, and he moans a little, eyes rolling back in his skull as fluttery lashes frame the whites, his hips twitching up.

Sicko.

His cock is already hard, rutting into your core in irregular little movements, the lace of your panties so delicate you swear you can feel it throbbing, his motions molding the dainty fabric to your soaking folds with every slight jerk upward.

Slim fingers flex, grip on your hips tightening and further burying his nails in your flesh as he forces you to begin rocking in his lap, grinding down to meet each roll up.

His lips have left your own again, his mouth streaked with your blood, a pretty pink shimmer glazing the bottom half of his face. Blood is still trickling from the six tiny slashes his teeth left, overflowing from the seam of your mouth and flowing down your chin in unbroken streams.

Swiping a thumb through the thin floods, he smears sticky crimson across your skin, collecting a healthy swap of the substance on the pad of his finger—so much so it begins dripping down the curve to settle in the lines of his knuckle and his palm.

“Beautiful,” he whispers, repeating the action, painting you in messy shades of yourself. “Just beautiful.”

A whimper slips through your lips, eager tongue catching his thumb and curling around the appendage—protective, possessive—drawing it into the heat of your mouth.

He lets you guide him willingly, watches with lust-blown pupils as your lips pucker around the second knuckle, slick tongue cradling his thumb as it sucks it to the roof of your mouth, pools of saliva washing your blood from his skin.

His breath is coming out in hot, hard huffs, exhaled through parted lips as your mouth tightens, swallows his thumb down further. His pupils pulse, gnawing away at his irises as they try to devour you whole, blue so thin it’s scarcely an outline tracing gaping orbs of black.

Your hips are still gyrating against his in erratic little circles, a single palm still clasped around your waist guiding you, encouraging you as he bucks in response, straining cock rubbing along your cunt.

It’s just barely catching your clit, nothing more than teasing little grazes, dense heat simmering in the pit of your tummy.

You need more.

“Dabi,” you whine a little, wriggling in his grasp, a desperate attempt to garner more friction.

“Uh-huh?”

“Touya.”

“Yeah, baby,” he answers, the nonchalance in his tone contradicting the mischief glinting in his eye. “What is it?”

Chrome chips your nails as you claw at the heavy buckle of his belt, leather squeaking against metal. His free hand captures your wrists easily, holding them together in one palm, hard enough that the bones grind together.

“You want something? Huh?”

Brows knitting, you glare at him, bottom lip quivering a little, fighting the urge to jut into a full-blown pout, fighting the urge to spit out what do you think?

“You know.”

He does, of course he does.

But that doesn’t mean he’s just going to give it to you.

“C’mon, I wanna hear you say it,” he purrs as your chin puckers, your whole face scrunched up in a scowl. “C’mon, baby, c’mon, be a good little girl and ask for it.”

Sapphire scathes your skin, almost as bright and burning as his flames, his unadulterated attention nearly too much to bear, confidence and brattiness withering beneath his scorching stare.

Lashes fluttering, your eyes flee his, tears forming to shield you from his heat, shoulders caving inward in an attempt to protect you from his unyielding scrutiny.

“W-Want your cock.”

His tongue clicks in disapproval, a mocking frown slapped across his face barely suppressing his amusement, eyes shining, power flaring.

“That’s not asking, sweetheart.”

Swallowing thickly, you force your gaze to his, lids squinting a little beneath his brilliance.

“Can I please have your cock? Please?”

“Please what?”

And although he’s acting unaffected, he can’t quite quell the spasming of his hips, jerking up in minuscule movements and grinding his cock into your sopping hole, panties clinging uncomfortably to your folds.

An eyebrow raises, a question of Well? I’m waiting… imbued in the subtle action.

He isn’t going to give it to you unless you ask properly, like a good little girl is supposed to.

As expected.

“Please, Master,” you mewl, fingers curling over the edges of his belt and tugging, sharp leather biting into soft hands. “Please, please, let me ride your cock, Sir.”

Cavernous eyes observe you for a moment, scanning for dishonesty, grin growing when a whine vibrates in your throat, low and needy.

“Please?” you whimper, the leather of his belt creasing beneath your grip, squealing as it rubs together, a plead hitching in your chest. “Pl—Please, Sir.”

“Alright, alright,” he’s pacifying, acting as if he’s doing you some sort of favour, as if his cock isn’t jumping eagerly with each drool of pre-cum leaking from its slit. “Go on, then. Get it out.”

Words of thanks are pouring from your lips as your hands hastily undo his pants, yanking at the buckle, tugging at the zipper, shoving at the waistband, messy and urgent until his cock is finally released.

The stretch is nothing short of incredible, as it always is with him, little hole trembling as it swallows around his girth, drawing him in further and further, deeper and deeper, slow and steady until the head nudges your cervix, his hips twitching up twice, ensuring he’s hit the end, buried to the hilt with nowhere else to go, completely stuffing your cunt full.

And despite the trademark ache, delicate flesh stinging as it splits into little fissures to accommodate him, your hips begin moving immediately, starved and raring, whimpering a little into his shoulder as you cling to him, every rotation of your hips radiating pricks of pain through your gut.

“God, you’re pathetic,” he snorts, but the insult is soft, edges dulled by love. “So fucking desperate for my cock, aren’t you?”

“Can’t help it,” you murmur, rubbing your cheek along the curve of his neck, then his jaw, streaking your face with his sweat. “Missed you so much.”

“I know, baby,” the tip of his tongue swipes through the blood still staining your chin. “Bet you missed my cock just as much, if not more.”

“Yes, yes, Sir,” you’re nodding in messy little motions, hips still rocking languidly against his own, clit gliding against his slick pubic bone in rhythmic strokes. “I did, I missed it s’much—”

A gasp slices through your slurred words, sharp air shoved from your chest as his hips begin snapping upward, rough and ruthless and without warning, the hands grasping your hips tightening around your flesh as he forces you to stay in place.

“Of course you did,” he grunts out, as if it’s preposterous to think otherwise. “I’m not at all surprised; my sweet lil slut can’t live without my cock, can she?”

“Never, never, ne-never,” you babble out in confirmation, words stuttered harshly with the piston of his hips.

Another laugh spills from his lips, airy and malicious in melody.

“No, never,” he rasps, ever-so-slightly breathless with the effort, dewdrops of sweat beginning to adorn his hairline. “Fuck, how would you ever get off without me, huh?”

The question sends a pang searing through your heart, echoing a question you’ve been asking yourself often as of late—how would you ever survive without him?

The thought stings your eyes, thick tears rushing to cloud your vision and rendering him nothing more than a watery blur of ivory and violet.

“I—I wouldn’t, Sir, I wouldn’t!” you cry out, rapid fluttering of your lids dislodging teardrops, streaming down your cheeks in glistening pairs. “I n-need you, I need you, always, always, al-always!”

Your fingers curl against his shoulders, nails catching on staples, a hiss spit from the gaps of his teeth. They sink into grafted skin, dead and weathered and dusted in ash, and cling, knuckles locked and stiff as you try to pull yourself impossibly closer to him.

Gnarled flesh collects beneath the edges of your nails as your grip strengthens, chewing on his body and gathering it in your grasp, consuming whatever tiny slivers you can, a silent plead to stay.

“It’s okay, precious,” he hushes you, lips pushed into a mocking pout, contradicted by the smothering affection exuding from his eyes. “M’here, m’not going anywhere.”

God, you hope not.

“Please, please—”

And you drown yourself in it, drown yourself in him; his taste, spicy hickory and warm smoke, exhaled onto your hungry tongue, soaked up and swallowed down; his gaze, overflowing with adoration and intense attention, tying itself in a thick braided noose around your neck and tightening; his touch, stamping his prints into your flesh in blotchy bursts of blue, singeing his name with licks of sapphire that welt and wound, that crust and crater and scar.

Your ribs squeeze, sucked inward by the voracious black hole your heart has morphed into—never sated, never filled, always vying for more—whole body curling beneath the strain.

But he’s right there to hold you, to steady you, to keep you intact, his hands the stitches you need to keep from unraveling.

“I know, I know,” he’s cooing as you choke on sobs, still scraping weakly at his back, “your Master’s gonna give you what you need.”

Slim fingers flex, soot-stuffed nails latching onto your flesh like tiny leeches, dug in nice and deep, using his grasp as leverage to control the speed and angle of your hips.

Your feet skid against the chipped bathroom tile, the muscles in your legs tensing as you attempt to find stable purchase on the floor trying to aid in his movements, to fuck yourself on him.

It’s no use, though—it’s not like it matters, anyway, not when Dabi’s got complete domination over your body, over all of its movements and positions, manhandling you into whatever arrangement he pleases, reduced to nothing more than his favourite little plaything.

“It’s real cute,” he’s telling you in that sugared condescension you’ve come to love so much, “that you’re trying so hard to help me.”

A whine escapes your lips, caught somewhere between apologetic and petulant, hips stammering as they begin to slow, and he laughs.

“Aw, no, don’t stop,” his tongue clicks against his teeth. “Keep trying, it’s so precious.”

And although his tone is taunting, full of characteristic derisive glee, his eyes are encouraging, begging you to keep going, for him.

And so, you do, desperate to please him, the muscles in your thighs beginning to burn as you work in vain to pathetically hump away at him, hips knocking together irregularly as your footing continues to slip.

It doesn’t do much to assist him, but he’s happy anyway, a certain type of pride saturating his features, dulling the points of his wide smile, dimming the harsh brilliance in his eyes, turning his face into something a little softer, something a little sweeter.

Dabi keeps an iron grip on the pace—not that you’d ever expect anything different—forcing you to ride him hard and fast, bouncing you on his cock as his hips buck up in expert rhythm, completing your movements every time. The head drags over that engorged spot with each pound into you, sending a judder of scorching sparks to rush through your blood, each bout more intense than the last.

“God, look at you, you’re such a little slut for me, huh?” he pants out, rapacious eyes sweeping across your face, keen to soak up your expression. “Taking my cock like you were fuckin’ made for it.”

He’s really fucking into you now, jerking you on his cock like a toy, because you are—something that’s his to use whenever, wherever, and however he sees fit, something that’s his to own, to care for and splinter to bits and painstakingly piece back together, over and over and over again.

Tears of ecstasy are pouring from your eyes, cascading down your face in twin streams, excess dewdrops embedded in spiked lashes glittering with every rough pump of his hips.

It all hurts—always does, with Dabi, incapable of treating anything with any degree of gentleness; not a flaw, just a fact, oblivious to his own strength—but the pain only works to elevate the pleasure, pushing it higher and higher and higher until it’s choking you, smothering your lungs and stuffing your throat and spilling out your mouth in the form of messy, stringy sobs.

“S’been so long, Sir, so long,” you weep, nails burrowing further into his body, almost as if they’re desperate to reach his core—to pry past his ribs and claw into his heart and curl up in his soul.

Because it has been so long, too long, most of Dabi’s attention soaked up by Paranormal Liberation duties and his own extensive planning as Shigaraki’s due date drew closer and closer, any scraps of time thrown your way whenever he had a spare moment to sneak off to this dilapidated safe house where he’d stashed you away, his visits sporadic and unpredictable.

“You’re right,” he says, and there’s a tinge of melancholy to his breath. “It’s been way too long since your sweet cunt has been filled with your Owner’s cock, hasn’t it?”

“It has, it has,” you’re nodding sloppily, tongue tangled in threads of spit.

“My poor lil pussy,” he pouts, and it’s so derisive. “Must be starving, it hasn’t been stuffed nice and full with my cum in forever.”

“No, no, no,” you’re chanting in agreement, “feels so empty without you, Sir, feels s-so wrong.”

“Aw, don’t worry, sweetheart,” he crudely laps at the steady stream of tears, vicious bouncing causing his teeth to nick your cheek. “I’m gonna change that.”

Chapped lips find your ear, slicked with saliva, his voice dropping an octave as he continues.

“Because tonight,” he breathes, sweltering against your ear, his tongue darting from between wet lips to trace along the curve. “I am going to stuff you so full of my cum that—ah, fu-fuck—that it’s going to flood your cute lil tummy, that it’s gonna seep into your organs, into your fucking blood, that it’s gonna be leaking out all over the fucking place.”

“Oh, oh, please, Sir, please!”

The pleads come out as a single string, melded together with drool and garbled on your tongue. Little jolts of fire shoot through your body with the constant ramming of his hips, flames licking at your veins as they sear through them, the sharp slap of your ass against his thighs complementing his harsh pants and your broken moans.

“Yeah, I know, my little cumslut wants that so badly, doesn’t she?”

Your brain struggles to stitch together a sentence longer than his name, your mind gone delirious for his seed—and it’s an aching, it’s an addiction, sick and depraved and downright uncontrollable—little uh-huh!’s mercilessly fucked from your throat, head bobbling along with the affirmations.

You can feel it, a taut pleasure building within your body, a fluttering that furls into a tight ball of sapphire flame in the pit of your belly, pulsing a little faster, a little harder, a little more with every drive of his cock.

“Oh, Touya, Tou—Touya!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, say my name.”

A growl rattles against his ribs, whole chest vibrating with the force of it, and his head dips down, slick tongue painting strokes of thick, shimmering saliva across your skin, an artist priming his favourite canvas.

“C’mon, tell me who’s making you feel this good—” and although it’s supposed to be a command, it comes out as a plead, voice tapering off into a low whine, muffled against your shoulder. “Tell me, tell me.”

“You, Touya,” you choke out, the name mangling itself in your throat. “You, you, you!”

“You’re goddamn right, it’s me.”

Sharp teeth bury themselves in your flesh, mouth clamped over the junction of your neck, harder and harder and harder until the barrier of your skin finally splits, syrupy copper erupting on his tongue.

His name shatters on your lips, a dark chuckle soaking into the wound when you arch your neck, stretched and strained and offering him more room to work despite the squeal of pain sticking in your throat

It’s all so much, too much, his teeth in your flesh and his cock filling your cunt and—and—!

“Gonna—gonna—!”

A large palm collides with your ass, sick slap echoing off the cracked walls.

“Is that any way to ask your Master for permission?” Dabi spits, voice dripping with disappointment. “God,” he huffs out a laugh, incredulous, but the mirth shining in his eyes is so bright, so blazing it almost hurts to look at. “My cock must’ve really made you go fucking stupid, huh? Don’t you know this body belongs to me?”

Another spank lands against your bottom, a yelp hitching in your chest with the ruthless jackhammer of his hips, his fingers sinking into the burning flesh in a bruising grip, amplifying the sting of the slap, digging it deep into your tissues.

“This body is not allowed to cum unless I say so—so ask nicely, you little bitch.”

“M’sorry!” you cry out, a fresh torrent of tears flooding your eyes. “M’sorry, m’so sorry, Master—”

“Yeah? Yeah?”

His other hand snakes between your heaving, sweat-drenched bodies, thumb and forefinger clamping down on your clit and tweaking, hard enough to force a scream from your tongue, sending spikes of pain rushing through your veins. His fingers flatten against the engorged little nub a moment later, rubbing hard, quick circles into it, a malicious little giggle squeaking in his throat because it’s so swollen, baby and Christ, you must wanna cream all over his cock so badly!

Sounds of affirmation spill uncontrollably from your lips, head nodding in frenetic little motions, whole face shimmering and sticky with salt, snot, sweat.

“Uh-huh? Uh-huh?”

He’s mocking you, chin tilted up in superiority, staring down the bridge of his nose to regard you in patronizing pity, eyebrows raised and imploring you to continue.

“Apologies are not asking, baby,” his grip catches your slippery clit again, twisting it harder this time, your eyes scrunching shut as a cry shatters on your tongue, fingers scrabbling against his shoulders, tearing out staples.

He’s right, you know he is, but he’s making it difficult to speak, difficult to ask, difficult to stitch together a single word at all, let alone a full thought, when he’s playing with your clit like that, alternating between pulsing pinches and gentle caresses, the calloused pads of his fingertips providing just the right amount of friction.

Your whole body quivers with the effort of holding your orgasm back, muscles pulled tight and taut with the strain, and he laughs—beautiful, breathless, bona-fide—cock twitching inside of you.

“Pl—Please, Sir,” you manage to gasp out, entreatment forced from your tongue in a single thin breath. “Please, let me cum, please, please, please!”

The pleads melt into one gooey stream as they flow from your lips, slathered in drool and dripping from the corners of your mouth in thick cords.

“Yeah? You want it? You wanna cum all over your Owner’s cock?”

“Yes, yes!” you practically wail, pawing urgently at him. “Please, sir, let me cum, make me cum, I wanna—I wanna—”

“Alright, alright,” Dabi’s pacifying, but his actions don’t slow, hips merciless with their assault on your body. “Go ahead, sweetheart, make a pretty mess on me.”

Never one to disobey a direct order from your Master, you do, almost instantly, entire body convulsing as your cunt pulses around his shaft, gushing so much slick that it floods his thighs and soaks the waistband of his pants.

The constant circles ground into your sensitive clit as you spasm around him only work to heighten the pleasure, brain gone numb with the shocks of ecstasy coursing through your body, another flurry of jolts sent through your veins with every run through the routine, skin rippling with the impact.

He doesn’t stop his assault even after you cum, vehemently refusing to let up even as the clenching of your cunt fades into something faint and erratic, even as violent tremors loop through your veins, entire body quivering in his tight grasp, even as your fingers claw weakly at his wrist, crooking staples and scraping scarred flesh, blood rushing to fill the gouges left by your nails.

No, he doesn’t stop until you’re teetering on the brink of passing out, wandering in and out of consciousness, his name leaving your lips in a near incomprehensible jumble, slurred and heavy with spit.

Only then does he scoop you up in his arms, your legs dangling limply from his elbows as his palms firmly clutch your ass, hard cock still aching and buried deep inside of you, and carry your pliant body to that worn, fraying couch, with the puffs of white cotton leaking through the polyester and the exposed springs groaning beneath your weight.

You barely notice the change in scenery, though, still blissfully fucked out, nerves gnawed raw by his overstimulation, a soft hiss slipping from between your teeth as the scratchy cushion rubs against your bare bottom, a raised imprint of Dabi’s palm and all five fingers still rapidly swelling.

“It’s my turn now, angel,” Dabi’s words drift over your body in an indistinct haze, vision fuzzing at the edges, your head nodding instinctively.

“Gonna—Gonna make good on your promise, Master?”

“I always do, don’t I?”

And then his hips are thrusting, cockhead repeatedly ramming your cervix with every harsh plunge forward, leaning down to catch fresh tears with his lips. The tip of his tongue traces their salty trajectory all the way to your bottom lashes, matted into wet little spikes, before sucking a hickey into your cheek, tiny capillaries bursting beneath his tongue, staining the thin skin with swiftly developing violet.

Tufts of ivory cling to his temples in damp clumps, dried black dye liquifying beneath his heat and running down his cheeks, leaving streaks along the line of his jaw and the curve of his neck. Sweat collects in the dips of his collarbones, shimmering gently in the flickering light spilling from the television set, a wavering news reporter recounting the tragic events of today, stuttered by static.

“God,” he nearly whines, voracious eyes sweeping across your face, desperate to soak up your twisted expression of pleasure-tinged pain—the way your lids keep drooping as you struggle to keep them pried open, eyes speckled with stars, lashes encrusted with tears; the way your tongue keeps lolling out to draw your slick lip back between your teeth, muffling your whimpers and mewls, and oh, no, he can’t have that, a gentle tut of his tongue clicking against his teeth as his thumb tugs it free from your mouth, drawing out a stringy whine in the process.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous when you go dumb from my cock.”

The words leave his lips in an airy gasp, as if he can hardly believe you’re real beneath him, as if he can hardly believe it’s his cock making you look this way, a hand leaving your waist to slide along your torso, taking the hem of your dress with it, rough palm tracing every curve and dip and bulge as it crawls to your collarbone.

He takes his time to admire you—to appreciate the sensation of your skin beneath his touch, fingers gripping, kneading, scraping, gathering palmfuls of you in his grasp before letting go again in a stunned sort of marvel—hips slowing to an uneven rutting, unable to fully halt his fucking.

Keeping a firm, steady grasp on your body and pinning you in place, his free hand continues to roam, hardened fingertips sinking into the pretty blue lace of your bra hard with enough force to elicit a yelp from your lips, amusement tugging at his lips.

“So, so beautiful,” he pants, eyes skimming your now exposed body, his fiery gaze outlining every edge, dedicated in committing every contour to memory. “Fucking look at you.”

In all the time you’ve been with him, your body has become a scrapbook of Dabi. It tells stories of him—what he’s done, how he’s felt, where he’s been, why he did it—stamped permanently into your flesh using his teeth and his tongue and his flames, in raised flesh and puckered craters and glittering scabs.

You can’t tear your stare from his face, though, too busy worshipping him, sapphire eyes gaping and glazed as they travel along your body, soft huffs of breath escaping his lips, pushed from his throat with the tender heaving of his chest, saliva glistening on his lips, smeared so prettily across the staples climbing his chin.

Dainty fingers grope at the air, pathetic and yearning, clawing at nothing, and he laughs a little, nothing more than a smooth, deep vibration at the back of his tongue.

His touch finds the apex of your thighs again, nails dimpling flesh as he spreads your legs wide—so wide your muscles begin to burn, taut beneath the strain—a quiet groan rumbling in his chest as he stares at your stretched cunt.

Two fingers press into your clit, still slick and swollen, grazing over it in slow caresses—back and forth, back and forth, gliding easily over the puffy nub and snorting a little at the way your hole flutters, eager and aching, squeezing his cock, sucking him in, begging for more.

So cute.

Eyes wide and unblinking, he plays with you in a trance, slowly but surely building up pleasure in you, pressure in you, fascinated by the way your body so readily reacts to his simple motions, grinding circles and rubbing strokes and pulsing fingertips.

It enraptures him, puffs of hot air exhaled through slightly parted lips as he watches just his touch bring you to orgasm for the second time tonight, obsessed with the way your cunt trembles around his cock, a surge of your essence streaming from your hole, embracing him in a thick, wet heat.

Your cunt gorges on him—so fuckin’ greedy, even after cumming twice—fluttering a little around the base of his shaft, still oozing so much slick that it’s glazing your ass and his balls, steadily seeping past the tight seam of your hole.

It’s so pretty, it’s so fuckin’ pretty, baby, he’s breathing, eyes hazy with awe, hips drawing back just a little to watch the way your body clings to his girth, sheathing his cock in a shimmering layer of arousal.

A palm wraps around the base of his shaft, the head of his cock still buried an inch or two in your straining cunt, and he jerks himself hard and quick, sick wet slaps echoing out among the room as his hand slams between your cunt and his pelvis.

“Fuck, f-fuck—”

His hips start moving on their own accord, too impatient, his hand nothing compared to the sweltering ecstasy of your cunt, and he releases his cock, sticky hand collaring your throat, pinioning you to the couch, his thrusts so vicious they’re jostling your body up the cushions, the palm crushing your airway keeping you in place.

Lithe fingers flex as their grip on your neck tightens, coarse pads of his fingertips beginning to heat up, blood in your veins bubbling beneath his touch.

Your flesh melts beneath his hold, melds itself to his grasp, desperate to stay in his hands forever.

The sting is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, his palm and all five of his fingers singed into your skin in the prettiest, most precious permanent necklace. You can barely breathe, exhales coming as weak little wheezes, and you swear his flames must be licking into your throat, down to your lungs and straight through your veins, incinerating your blood as your body goes numb, cunt clenching around his cock for the third time, wailing out shards of his name.

But you don’t allow his hold to let up, to loosen at all, both of your hands placed firmly over his, holding it there harder, a loud moan escaping his lips, his hips stammering out of rhythm.

“Brand me, Master, brand me, brand me,” you’re gasping out, voice wrecked and raw. “Make me yours, mark me as yours, forever!”

“Jesus Christ,” he nearly sobs, his thrusts turned brutal, primal, losing any semblance of finesse as he relentlessly fucks you, motions stuttering as he finally cums, a violent shudder coursing through his body before he collapses on top of you, drenched in sweat as his cock throbs, filling you to the brim with hot, thick cum.

“More, Touya, more, more!” you’re crying out, scrabbling at his shoulders as you try to pull him closer, shivering legs latching around his waist as tight as you can manage as your hips roll up to meet his own, crudely humping him. “Gimme more!”

A groan, dense and heavy, spills from his lips, his entire body rippling with hiccups as he ruts into you—automatic, instinctual, desperate to give his sweet girl what she wants, even if it hurts.

“Yeah, yeah, ye-yeah, Touya, Touya, fill me with y’r cum!”

And so, he does, using your cunt to milk himself even as his form quivers with every rock of his hips, chills skidding across his flesh with every bump of his cockhead against your abused cervix.

He keeps going, just like you begged him to, just like he promised he would, until your tummy is stuffed full and your cunt is leaking with his seed, until neither of you can take it anymore, bodies shuddering with every hump and drag and grind, deliquescing into one another, a puddle of limbs.

You stay like that for a while, his body blanketing yours, breathing as one, being as one. Gentle fingertips trail up and down the column of his spine as his bones begin to fuse and harden again, tiptoeing over the trails of staples stitching dead skin to healthy flesh and evoking a mild shudder, pads of your fingers pressing into each golden suture, counting them lovingly, kissing every one.

Eventually, after your fingers have traversed across all thirty-one, he shifts, manhandling you onto his chest as he shuffles himself beneath you, cradled between his thighs.

“What now?”

You don’t mean to say it, don’t mean to shatter that delicate, post-orgasmic, precarious peace with two simple words, but they claw up your throat and pry past your teeth and gnaw on your lips, desperate to be vocalized, immortalized, heard.

What now?

They’re uttered out softly enough, lips moving against his heart, warm breath seeping into his chest, the question worming its way beneath his skin.

His muscles go rigid, his breath stalling in his lungs.

What happens now that his goal has been reached, Part One in his plan succeeded? What’s the next step, now that the world knows Todoroki Touya is alive and simmering in his hatred, fuelled by spite and ravenous with revenge?

What happens when he goes to face his father for the final time? And what happens if he never returns?

“Oh, I dunno,” he sighs out, but his voice trembles. “We could fix this place up, all nice and swanky, have a couple’a kids, get a golden retriever—y’know, real nuclear family type shit.”

You laugh, but it comes out strangled, sounding strange to your ears, a distorted sob.

“The dream, huh?”

“Yeah,” he says, quiet, nostalgia for a time that has never happened, that will never come, aching in his words. “The dream.”

A silence settles over the two of you, as tender as the edges of a festering wound.

“I have to do it,” he says after several moments have passed, and his voice is soft—softer than you’ve ever heard it before, softer than you ever thought him capable of—infused with apology.

He does.

You know he does. You understand why. That’s how the story ends, the final chapter he’s been drafting—you were never meant to be a part of this tale, written in between lines and margins, stuffed between words, twined throughout the pages nonetheless. But ultimately, this is his story—to write, to tell, to edit, to revise, to create, to conclude.

You know.

But the acceptance sticks in your throat, furled into a tight, hard lump, so you nod instead, punctuating your affirmative with a kiss pressed to his chest, planted right over his heart. It soaks into his skin, burrows itself into pulsating muscle and finds salvation there, finds home there, a puzzle piece that snaps into perfect place—something that’s always been missing, now complete. Something he’ll take with him, when his pen leaves the page, when his book snaps shut.

You don’t dare look at him. You don’t need to. You can feel the stutter of his chest, hear the hitch of his breath tangling on hard truths to swallow, smell the copper streaming down his cheeks again.

And you hug him tighter.

You know. And no matter how badly you wish to, you won’t stop him.

#dabi smut #dabi x reader #dabi x you #todoroki touya smut #todoroki touya x reader #todoroki touya x you #dabi angst #bnha smut #bnha x reader #happy belated birthdaaaay dabi i love you so much #eeeeee feel free to let me know what u think!!! i hope u enjoy it!!!

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willowser · 2 years

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#i am going to heal ptmy dabi by god #my poor baby #i want to kiss him POOR THING #he deserved better !!!#he was just a boy !! in an unfamiliar body !! on the streets by himself !!!#shut up willow: meme edition #✿ willow writes #✿ pleased to meet you: dabi

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dabislittlemouse · 13 days

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Drop ur fave dabi headcanons

──★ dabi headcanons °｡⋆

A/N: These are all SFW, I mostly wrote only Dabi with less reader interactions this time. These are my fav headcanons that I imagine of him. Please bear with me, writers block is no joke I have barely written anything lately :’)

✩°｡⋆ Dabi is a very knowledgeable man, he used to read plenty as a kid (and still does sometimes as an adult whenever he has the chance), he also has an IQ above an average person’s.

✩°｡⋆ He’s perceptive and quick-witted. Dabi has a sharp eye, he’s very good at observing people, reading their body language and gathering infomation. Whether it’s for a mission or just a secret obsession, he’s scraping all the information about his target in a very short time, he can figure out so much just by looking at a person and their mannerisms. He can easily tell if they’re lying, so the League always sends Dabi in whenever they gotta interrogate newbies or captives.

✩°｡⋆ Dabi is a night owl, you might always catch him smoking in the balcony or coming to the hideout after a night stroll. He prefers going out alone on walks, especially late at night, helps him clear his head. It feels like time has stopped and the world is silent. Might get on his disguise and eat takeout too if he’s hungry.

✩°｡⋆ Dabi gets easily irritated, or so expresses himself to be. But deep down, people from the League are the only ones he can actually stand being around. Whether he admits it or not, they’ve grown into him, even Toga with her hyperactive personality.

✩°｡⋆ He possesses great critical thinking skills, puts them to use only when he feels like it. He’s a great value to the League and the PLF, and even if he might seem bored out of his mind during meetings, he still proceeds to bring his ideas into the conversation in the end.

✩°｡⋆ Loves analysing people’s quirks. His life being focused on his own quirk since a kid, Dabi also finds himself looking at others as well, studying their quirk, how they work, what strengths and weaknesses they posses etc. He acknowledges strong individuals and doesn’t underestimate them.

✩°｡⋆ I feel like he’s really good at arguing, he’ll always bring valid arguments to the table, I think he’d be really good at writing argumentative essays.

✩°｡⋆ Emotions rarely get on his way, the only one that can trigger his emotional side is his dad, his own family, memories of the past that haunt him.

✩°｡⋆ Most of the people Dabi has killed consist of villains at the battle in Deika city, and also random thugs while he was looking for recruits worthy of joining the League. I don’t see Dabi as the type to go around mindlessly killing random innocent civilians for fun tbh.

✩°｡⋆ At first sight he looks like a high maintenance kinda guy. Always demanding, difficult to please, comes off as insensitive at times, easily prone to possessiveness and jealousy when it comes to someone he is very close to/ or loves. As well as seeking validation, deep down he actually craves it.

✩°｡⋆ Rubs the back of his neck when he gets the slightest bit of nervous/anxious. Smoking calms his nerves. (With his s/o) Also playing with his hair surprisingly calms him down fast. Simple things as holding hands or tracing your fingers along his skin make him melt from the inside.

✩°｡⋆ The type of guy to actually have a good conversation in person with but is a horribly dry texter over the phone. Though congrats to anyone who achieved having a full conversation with him in person in the first place.

✩°｡⋆ He tends to be very avoidant and antisocial in general, very introverted, he’s the quiet kid for sure. But the League knows deep down he ain’t that quiet, chaos is brewing in his head ready to explode anytime.

✩°｡⋆ He has surprisingly a good fashion taste, if you go to him and ask him for his opinion on different styles/combination on you, he’ll actually help you decide which one is best and suits you more. He just has a good eye on things.

✩°｡⋆ He is lazy to cook himself, the only times he tried to he always burns things up. Doesn’t really look after what he eats, skips breakfasts, the only time he’s eaten properly is when the League started living in Re-Destro’s mansion.

✩°｡⋆ Dabi reeks of burnt flesh when he overuses his quirk too much, but on normal days he just smells like smoke. Might invest on a cologne as well, just to overpower that scent of smoke and burnt flesh. Hates being dirty for too long, tries to maintain basic hygiene as much as possible, regularly cleans his piercings, he was raised in a Todoroki household after all.

✩°｡⋆ Prefers shows over movies, I feel like he’d totally fuck with Game of Thrones ngl, especially House Targaryen (he has white hair too and is related to fire duh). Loves dragons, imagined having one for himself. (With his s/o) his favorite time is when you’re both cuddled up in bed and watching shows together.

#B.writes #dabi #touya todoroki #mha dabi #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha #dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader #tw: smoking

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moonchild701 · 21 days

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⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑

Thighs, Thighs, Thighs

⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑

[NSFW] ‼ 18+ >MDNI<

Summary: Touya is already weak for your thighs.

And then you decide to wear thigh high stockings.

Pairing: Dabi/Chubby! Female Reader

Content Warning: Smut, Face Sitting, Intercrural Sex, Cum Marking, Dabi has Genital Piercings, Plus Sized Reader, Dabi's a simp

Word Count: 2.9k

Disclaimer: Character belongs to Kohei Horikoshi

A/N: For my fellow chubby girlies, ily 🫶🏽

My Masterlist

⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑

Touya has a certain fixation with your thighs.

After long days, he loves to just lay his head in your comfy lap, holding you. When you straddle him, he's free to rub and squeeze them as he pleases, and he will take any and every opportunity to have them wrapped around any part of him.

He loves the jiggle of them when he smacks your ass, and squishing the plushness beneath his palm. Biting and sucking his marks into the soft flesh is one of his favourite things to do.

You in shorts or short skirts are a weakness for him; you in fishnets, lace or thigh highs are fucking lethal.

So when he's on the couch, just minding his own business, lounging in his sweats and tank top, and you come out in a pleated, black miniskirt that barely covers your ass, black, sheer thigh high stockings with lace edges, a matching lace garter belt holding them up by thin straps, and one of his white tshirts, clinging to your body but especially your tits, nipples printing through showing that you had no bra on, who could really blame him for snatching you by your waist and pulling you into his lap?

You balance yourself on his shoulders, getting yourself comfortable, before your hands slide up the side of his neck and back to tangle your fingers in his pale hair as you lean in.

Heated hands slide up and over your legs, the contrasting softness of your skin and the lace of the stockings satisfying. He gropes and fondles at your thighs, your ass and tits through your clothes, before inevitably back to your thighs, all as he kisses you slow and hot.

Trailing mismatched lips down your jaw and up to your ear, he mumbles, voice husky, "Fuck, look at you. Get all dolled-up for me, baby?". Scarred hands grope at you, one hand inching up under the skirt, the other sliding up under the tshirt.

"Hmm, maybe.", you hum, basking in his attention, moaning softly as he leaves kisses, licks and nips along your throat and collarbone, sucking pretty bruises into the skin as he goes, while pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers. You love the way he gets when you dress like this.

His hand under your skirt pauses as all they meet is more skin. And he realizes that you aren't wearing any underwear at all. You feel his clothed cock twitch against your bare cunt, and you bite your lip to supress a smug smile.

"Shit." He breathes out a short, hot laugh against your neck before pulling back, "Fuck, okay. Sit on my face, baby. Please, I need to taste you."

You especially love that you could make this man, this big, bad villain, be basically at your beck and call, little more than a begging mess for you, with just the sight of your thighs and the promise of your pussy.

And seeing those wide, pretty blue eyes, looking at you with such reverance, how could you say no?

So you smile, sitting up on your knees for him to adjust. He shifts to lay on the couch properly, and his hand rests on your back, urging you to move upwards, until you're directly above him. You hold yourself steady with a hand beside you on the back of the couch, your legs framing his head, cunt hovering right over his mouth, as you hold the end of your skirt up to your stomach, biting your lip.

It's not exactly the first time you've sat on his face, and you love it of course, but it always makes you a bit nervous at first because, what if you break him? The first time he wanted you to, you asked him this and he just said, "What a way to go.", before pulling you in. So though the small nerves are there, it's drowned out by your arousal.

He grasps your thighs from behind as his eyes immediately snap to your pussy, glistening with your arousal. You see the way his pupils dilate, now just a ring of turquoise around a pool of black.

Your lips curl in a sly smile when his gaze locks on yours, eyes hungry, as he turns his head to mouth at your inner thigh after unhooking the straps and peeling down the tops of your stockings, blunt nails scraping along the skin.

You pant softly at his ministrations to the sensitive skin, smile still on your face as he laves and sucks marks into your flesh. A gasping moan is drawn out of you as he bites down on the meat of it, pussy weeping.

He pulls away, leaving the stinging mark to switch to the other thigh, his fingers digging possesively into your side, definitely leaving pretty bruises.

You're so wet you're leaking, your slick trailing down your thighs and Touya licks it right up, the flat of his hot tongue feeling branding as it slides over you, the metal of his piercing adding to that sentiment.

He groans, almost whimpering, at your taste as he shifts beneath you and you let out a breathy giggle.

At the urging tug at your hips, you finally lower yourself.

And Touya is in bliss as you sink your weight onto his face, thighs pressing to his cheeks. You feel the contrast of his healthy, soft skin and rough scars; his staples warm and digging into your skin is always surprisingly pleasant. He wraps his arms loosely over your legs, moving his hands down to rest on your thighs, moaning at your taste and the feeling of being completely surounded by you.

His flattened tongue licks a fat stripe up and through your folds, lips enveloping your throbbing clit, licking and sucking; you gasp as you release the couch to cup your breast through your shirt. Lapping at the sensitive nub, his scalding tongue swirls around it, his piercing enhancing every drag, before dipping into your wanting heat; and you moan lowly as you gently roll your hips, whining at the blunt scrape of his nails down your thighs.

Having his oxygen cut off, smothered in your sweet heat, has him completely hard and already leaking in his pants, but it's easy to ignore with your cunt and thighs suffocating him in the best of ways.

If he dies like this, he'd die a happy man.

Because he loves this. The feeling of you coming undone, thighs shaking and trembling and twitching around him, with his face buried in your hot cunt; clenching your slick walls around his tongue and rutting your clit against his nose.

He moans, slurping and panting against you ardently, the sounds filthy and wet, letting you know exactly how much he loves the taste of you and where he is.

Touya's hold on your thighs tighten as he pulls you down harder; hands heated to the point that they might just brand you.

"Come on, baby," he moans, voice slightly muffled. "Fuck my face, please."

You release your hold on your tits to tangle your fingers in his hair in a tight grip as you rock your hips, grinding over his hot tongue, the metal ball perfectly on your clit, your head thrown back as lewd moans spill from your parted lips. Your thighs squeeze around his face, practically suffocating him, and you see his eyes roll back, a deep groan vibrating through your cunt.

Your breathing and hips speed up as you pant, whining moans spilling out like spun sugar as your eyes roll shut in ecstasy when your orgasm crashes over you; your legs tremble and your breath stutters as you cum, gushing against him, slick running over his cheeks and chin, and down his throat. A gargled moan escapes him as his hips jerk up, rutting against nothing, his cock twitching as it leaks, making a mess in his sweatpants, as you ride his face through your high, dragging your sloppy pussy over his sinful tongue, using him.

Your movements stutter and broken moans fill the air, yet his mouth does not leave your heat; his hands do not move from their grip, holding you down to the sweet tortures of his tongue, licking firmly over your swollen, sensitive clit.

"Hnn, too much, Touya, baby—ahn—it's too much—"

He finally gives you reprieve and you move down to sit on his thighs, your legs still shaky, breathing still laboured, eyes hazy.

And when you finally focus enough to look at him, Touya is gorgeous.

Flushed and already looking fucked out, he peers up at you with pretty, azure eyes, glassy and hazy, and still so deliciously amorous.

You stare at him, at the glistening wetness all over his face and neck, and he holds your gaze, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb, popping it into his mouth.

Your face goes all soft and needy, pretty eyes wide and wanting; lips parted before your tongue peeks out to wet them as you swallow thickly, and you see something flash in his eyes. Something hot and dangerous and mouth-watering.

He abruptly sits up, leaving you no choice but to fall back into the seat of the couch with a small squeak, and he spreads your legs, one hooked on the back of the sofa, as he grinds his hardened bulge against your tender pussy, making you gasp sharply.

He leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. You moan softly into his mouth as you taste yourself on him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to pull him in; fingers in his hair, dragging your nails gently over his scalp, making him shiver and press down into the kiss more firmly as he rolls his hips against you, a scarred hand sliding up and under your shirt, fondling your breasts as his other hand grips your leg, fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh.

Pulling away, he sits up, kneeling, keeping your legs spread for him, running his hands across your thighs reverantly; fingers dancing along the hickeys and bitemarks littering the smooth expanse, admiring, biting his lip, before pushing your shirt up your chest, over your breasts.

He pinches and rolls a pebbled nipple between his fingers, making you squirm and whine, as he brushes his other thumb up through your slick folds, rubbing over your clit.

Panting, you watch him, a shiver running through you at the look in his eyes. It's hot and sly and so fucking sexy.

You prop yourself up on your elbows as he moves his hand from your chest and slips his cock out, the ladder of piercings along his shaft glistening with his arousal. He strokes himself idly as his eyes drink you in, before tapping the sticky head on your sensitive clit, the wet little sounds of it lewd and filthy.

Your head lolls to the side as you whimper softly at the small jolts of pleasure going through you at that, as your hands cup and fondle your own tits. Glancing up at you, he rubs the head of his cock into your clit, making a mess of it with his precum; the sight of you playing with yourself making him leak even more.

Pushing foward, he glides the shaft of his cock through your soaked folds, but he doesn't push in, making you whine as your cunt throbs.

He slowly slides back and forth, back and forth, coating his dick in your juices. Spreading you open, he dips just the head into your warm cunt, teasing your hole, before pulling back out.

The cruelty of feeling full yet so empty makes you whine and pout at him as you try to grind down onto him, because he's just toying with you dammit.

He swats at your inner thigh, smirking at the little gasping whimper you let out at the sting, before lolling open his mouth, letting his spit drip down onto your cunt and thighs, coating the marked skin there.

You make a small sound of confusion, mixed with a gasping moan, which is ignored as he grips your legs, pulling them closed and up, folding you nearly in half; your thighs pressed together, both feet over his left shoulder.

Trembling in desire, your eyes widen in realization when you feel his wet cock slide through the flesh of your thighs, hot and heavy.

Pressing a kiss just above your ankle, he sighs out, "Keep your thighs nice and tight for me, baby."

You obey, gripping your thighs around his erection. You feel him twitch against your skin, veins throbbing.

Touya grips your legs tightly as he slowly rocks forward, gliding into the tight pocket between your thighs.

"Oh fuck.", you moan as you look down, seeing the glistening head of his cock poke through them before disappearing again as he thrusts, slowly fucking your thighs.

His precum mixes with your slick in a sticky mess as each thrust has the underside of his cock gliding over your cunt, his ladder of piercings there rubbing deliciously over your clit and you shake in sensitivity and pleasure.

Fuck, he's not going to last long like this. You're too fucking pretty like this, your thighs too welcoming, your little sounds too sweet.

Ankles crossed, you wiggle your hips up and down the seat as your thighs flex, clenching rhythmically around him. "Good girl.", he groans, speeding up.

"Fuck.", you whimper at the sweet friction to your clit as your head buzzes at his desperation, feeling drunk on it. Your cunt continuously leaks, aiding the smooth slide of his thrusts.

You feel sensitive to every touch, every drag of his cock, as your second orgasm builds quickly.

Heated hands greedily squeeze and grope at your thighs and over the soft lace before he reaches up to play with your chest, squeezing and fondling, as he leans on the back of your legs, pressing your knees closer to you, folding you even more as he thrusts against you.

You squirm and writhe beneath him, your moans growing higher and louder as your pussy is so very thoroughly teased, and Touya can see that you're on that precipice yet again.

You cum with a cry as trembles wrack through your body; your thighs twitching around his length.

He thrusts a few more times, dragging out your peak before prying your legs apart and shifting a hand to his cock as he strokes himself to his completion with a deep groan.

Thick ropes of hot cum paint your thighs and pussy, a few drops staining your skirt. He presses his tip against your tender clit, smearing and rubbing his spend into you. You give a sweet, broken moan at that; at how filthy and perfect it feels to be marked up like that, claimed like that, as you watch the cum drip down your thighs obscenely.

Your breath hitches as he dips his hand between your legs, thumb swiping up his own release. He brings it up, smearing his cum on your parted lips, eyes locked on yours.

"Suck." His voice is thick and dark, gaze hot as he presses against your lips until you obey, taking it in; licking and sucking on his thumb, lapping at the cum soaked digit, making sure to get every last drop, as you moan softly at his taste.

He hums, pleased, as he pushes into your mouth, moving his thumb back and forth, fucking into it, playing with your mouth; rubbing it into the inside of your cheeks and along your gums as he watches you with lidded eyes and a wolfish grin.

And you wish it was more than just a thumb that's weighing on your tongue as you look up at Touya from under your lashes.

He pulls it out with a wet pop before pulling away fully.

You hold his gaze as you lick the remaining cum off your lips.

Wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb, you smile smugly as you watch him.

"On your knees for me, Dolly. Gotta clean me up, yeah?" Touya's expression is hungry as he looks at you, focused; like a predator stalking its prey and a shiver runs through you.

Because you do so love being his prey.

You happily get on your knees before him, thighs spread, looking up at him with such a self satisfied smile, he thinks you would purr if you could.

You lick him clean, teasing and sweet, until he's hard again, throbbing in your mouth. And then he bends you over the arm of the couch, fucking you stupid as you bounce back on his cock while he gropes and slaps at your ass and thighs, skin tender and stinging deliciously; before he fills you up till you're dripping with him.

And as you lay on the couch, spent and fucked out, covered in his marks and cum, watching his bare back walk out to the bathroom to get things to clean you up, you think to yourself.

What else can you do to make him crazy for you?

⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑

#moonchild701 #mha #bnha #dabi #touya todoroki #dabi x reader #dabi x you #my fics #mdni #dabi smut #chubby reader #mha smut #bnha smut

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ratatouillewastakendammit · 3 months

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Hiiii! How are you???

I loved the love-quirk piece you wrote for Touya/Dabi and was wondering if you could do the same trope for Hawks please please please??? 🥺🩷

Ugh I lovvveee Hawks and I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Hawks x Reader

Summary: Love-quirk trope but Keigo Takami edition because he deserve some nice fluff

Warnings: Language; suggestive

Word Count: 2.9k

The wind whipped through the stray strands of your hair, stinging your eyes as you ran toward the scene. It tousled the fabric of your hero suit, wrapping around your body as you took a moment take in your surroundings.

Despite the fact that the commotion seemed to have calmed down a bit, it was easy to see that chaos had just recently erupted. Haphazard concrete was littered across the street, a lamppost smashed through the middle strewn directly in front of you. Its dying bulb flickered amidst the debris, a beacon of energy among all of the destruction.

You had gotten the call maybe seven minutes ago. At the time, you had been peacefully drinking your morning serving of coffee. The word of criminals attacking the Northern side of the city rumbling over the agency forced you to push the steaming cup aside, ignoring the look of dejection stemming from the kind intern who had brought it.

Hawks had gotten there significantly earlier, thanks to his widely known speed and the fact that you were on the opposite side of town.

Speaking of your partner, he was nowhere to be seen, but the stray streaks of red plumage floating through the air alluded to him being close by, most likely taking down remaining villains in the nearby vicinity.

If the multiple unconscious bodies were anything to go by, he had already taken care of most of the assailants. Still, there seemed to be a few scattered around, all of which immediately began gunning for you.

You weren't exactly worried, however. Groups like this believed their abundance in numbers would make up for a noticeable lack of skill.

There was one left moments later, armed to the teeth, but visibly sloppy when it came to close combat.

Arms forward, you readied yourself for a quick win as a flash of color registered in your peripheral vision. You turned, almost positive that it was your partner, but wanting to make sure. That recognizably cocky grin and friendly wave confirmed your suspicions.

That grin faltered for a moment as he watched you pause, fists growing limp and face showing no reaction to the scythe-wielding villain running straight for you.

Reaction time as extraordinary as ever, Hawks shot forward and rammed his body into yours, the both of you colliding into the road as he tried your best to protect your head within his arms. A wall of feathers were unconsciously sent towards the criminal, the man currently screaming and banging on the now iron-like plumes.

Hawks took a breath, your face still buried in his shoulder and cradled beneath his biceps. His attempts to ignore the speed of his heart at your nearby demise went in vain, even as he forced that usual lighthearted upswing into his tone. "What the hell happened? Trying to keep me on my toes or something, sweetheart?"

Pulling away slightly, he readied himself for that usual glance of annoyance he'd receive when using the nickname. Surprisingly, your features held none of that discernible exasperation.

One of embarrassment and guilt lay there instead, your eyes flitting towards the ground.

"I'm sorry... I guess I got distracted." You lifted your gaze to meet his. "I just was thinking that you looked really nice today."

The absolute deadpan expression he wore would've had you chuckling any other day, laughter bubbling at the way his eyes seemed to almost double in surprise. Regardless, a saccharine smile, sweet and alluring, was what you offered.

His flirtatious remarks towards you were nothing new. He had liked you for a while, sure, but his usually amorous persona was known by many, so he wasn't sure you thought much of it. You had definitely never indulged in it, however, usually brushing it off with some sassed retort for the sake of professionalism.

The way you looked at him had his mind in shambles. It looked like you were on cloud-nine, blithe and unbothered despite your near death experience.

"Excuse me?"

Hawks jumped up, lacing an arm beneath your shoulders to take you with him.

A navy-clad police officer stared back at you both.

"Thanks for your help." She cleared her throat, trying to wipe away the look of surprise she was wearing. "We can take the cleanup from here."

"Thanks," he offered her a friendly nod before turning around and walking away, a hand wrapped protectively around your wrist. Craning his neck slightly downward, he muttered a quiet, "You okay?"

"Mhm. I feel fine."

"Uh-huh." Golden eyes glazed over your form, unconvinced.

"I am kind of tired, though. Can you fly us back?"

He stopped.

There had been a few instances where Hawks would fly you back to the agency's building after a mission.

Or, more so, he would offer, you would kindly decline, and he would sneak up from behind, pulling your body into his before taking off without warning.

It was something about the way you were forced to wrap your arms around his neck, hanging tightly in fear despite the fact that he would never allow anything to happen to you.

And even though the display of your annoyance didn't go above the usual huff of complaints after landing, you had definitely never asked for him to do it.

There was something wrong with you, that much he could tell. And while he was covertly enjoying this overly affectionate version of you quite a bit, the worry he felt for your well being easily overshadowed any satisfaction he was feeling.

Still, he nodded, not keen on letting you out of his sight as of now, sliding a hand behind your back and under your knees before pulling you close and rising into the air. He watched your expressions closely, well enough versed in the layout of the city to be able to not pay attention to where he was going.

As usual, your features were brimming with quiet anxiety, but nothing else exactly seemed to be all that different. Besides the way you clung onto him without the slightest bit of protest, of course.

It had been mere minutes before the agency faded into view, mirrored windows reflecting the splendor of an early evening sunset. His landing was just as graceful as the departure, combat boots sliding just barely across the cobblestone road.

You hopped out of his hold, but kept an arm laced around his own as Hawks led the both of you inside. Photojournalists were a constant outside of his agency and he was sure a shot of you two, your head resting beneath his shoulder as you practically hung off his side, would make them go crazy.

And while he didn't exactly mind, he was almost certain that you would be peeved if the paparazzi began spreading word of some dating scandal.

That could wait until you were more than just rumors.

Keigo was nothing if not persistent.

Especially when it came to you.

Automatic doors shut behind you, the soft click of shoes against polished marble echoing off the lobby's walls. The receptionist, a elderly woman with silvery hair and glasses much too large for her face, offered Hawks a wave, expression faltering slightly as she saw your hand laced with his.

"Are you okay, hon?" She leaned over her desk as you came into hearing range, aged voice lowering into a whisper. "He bribe you or somethin'?"

You laughed, the sound light and carefree. It gnawed at the edges of Keigo's chest. "Not at all!"

The older female flicked her eyes up to her boss, eyebrow raised in overt suspicion.

"Yeah, I'm not really sure what's going on yet," he sighed, running a hand through his golden bangs. "Can you get me the security footage from earlier today?"

She took a moment, face wrinkling in thought before looking up. "You!"

The subject of her call, an intern carrying a tray of steaming cups from a nearby coffee shop, jumped in surprise. Hawks had recognized him from around the office, but his name was lost, mix up in the sea of other employees that came on for the Summer.

"You're good at the screen stuff, yeah?"

Nodding hesitantly, the worker moved closer, eyes locking with the both of you. Panic washed his features as his gaze went back and forth over the heroes in front of him, each orbital shift making it seem like he was trying not to vomit.

As he reached the desk, he practically ducked under your line of sight, reaching the receptionist's computer, fiddling with it for a moment, and scurrying away without another word.

The suspicions in regards to the intern followed Hawks as he took you upstairs, ignoring the looks of confusion from some of his other coworkers. As the door to his office shut with a soft click, he pulled out his desk chair, slumping down with a sigh.

"Alright, lovebird. You're gonna stay in here while I look through some videos. Got it?"

You flashed in a grin. "Think I'm gonna get in trouble or something?"

"Seeing as I had to save your ass half an hour ago, maybe." A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Ya know, I don't think I got enough groveling for that."

"Yeah?" You moved over to where he was sitting, sliding a leg over both of his and sliding down until you were able to straddle his lap. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you looked up at him, eyes glossy and voice dripping in temptation like honey. "Thank you, Hawks, for saving me."

If there was ever a time he wanted to tell someone his given name, it was now. Every inch of him wanted to hear that needing tone lilt through his name, not the famed honorific the world knew him for.

Hearing you moan it would be even better.

Still, the possibility of some mind control or body swap being behind your strand behavior gnawed at the peripheral of his mind.

He was desperately trying to ignore the thought of how nice your hips would look between his hands.

Responsibility and desire wrestled in his mind, the latter getting dangerously close to a KO when the knocked sounded from behind his door.

"What?" The sound came out sounding significantly ruder than how he'd usually like it, but that couldn't be helped.

The frosted glass entryway slid open slowly, a trembling hand pushing it forward. A figure followed it, the fidgeting intern from earlier that Hawks had almost forgotten about.

"May I speak with you, sir?" He swallowed, eyes flickering from you both to the ground. "Alone?"

Cocking an eyebrow, Hawks turned to you. "I'm just gonna be a few minutes. Can you wait outside for me, sweetheart?"

You nodded, but the slight pout running through your bottom lip displayed your aversion to the idea.

It easily had Keigo's pants tightening.

Once the door had shut behind you, the intern took the open seat in front of the desk, hands wringing one another in a desperate attempt to smother some anxiety.

Based on his expression, it definitely didn't seem to be working.

"So, uh... I know why she's acting like that..."

Those unanswered suspicions from earlier jumped in Hawks' chest, despite the fact that they had been forgotten mere moments before.

You were a distracting little thing.

Maybe this debacle was as dangerous for him as it was for you.

But if you were his undoing, he wasn't sure that he would mind.

"I promise I wasn't trying to do anything wrong," the worker continued, voice meek and entangled with nerves. "I just... I just wanted to see if she liked me back."

Jealously burned in the back of Keigo's chest, a feeling distasteful enough to be difficult to ignore, but your well being was currently more important.

He ran a hand through his hair, one of the few physical tellers he exhibited when exasperated. "What did you do?"

Swallowing, the man in front of him continued. "Well, um, I have a love quirk and I usually bring the other heroes their coffee, so I kinda sorta used it while it was handing it out to her this afternoon."

Silence hung in the air like some toxic, poignant type of humidity.

"What?"

The worker bowed in an apology, the top of his head barely missing the wooden edge of Kiego's desk as it was thrown downward. "I know it was stupid and I promise I'll never do it again. Please don't fire me."

The number two hero wasn't exactly known to get angry.

But dammit, if he wasn't downright terrifying when he was.

"Are you serious? Didn't you stop to think that she could've gotten hurt?" Hawks stood up, the heels of his chair skimming across the floor. Golden irises flared in vexation, matching the sneer resting on his mouth. "She could've died! Fuck, she almost did!"

Now trembling a bit, the intern let out a sniffle. "I'm sorry. It's just... she's so pretty and is always nice to me."

Sitting down, Hawks took a minute to breathe, letting the indignation filter out before he said, or did, something he would regret. Some part of him couldn't exactly blame his employee; he had fallen for you just as easily.

He sighed, rested his face on the palm of his free hand. "And how the hell would making her fall in love with you prove whether or not she was interested anyway?"

The worker looked like they were about to keel over. "The quirk only works if the effected individual makes eye contact with someone they have feelings for."

Fireworks went off in his mind, blowing a usually cunning train of thought to shambles. To say he was fucking giddy was an understatement and if he hadn't been so pissed off at his own intern, he might've thanked him.

Still, he had one more question.

"So, how do you, ya know, turn it off?"

"You gotta," his employee cleared his throat. "You gotta kiss her."

Anger from moments before and pure glee were fighting for dominance in Hawks' head.

"If anything like this happens again, you're out. Understood?"

The intern nodded fervently, practically sprinting out of the office and offering sputtered words of thanks all the way. You followed shortly after, eyes darting around to make sure you weren't interrupting any meetings.

Hawks stood, immediately walking over to you.

"Is everything okay? That guy seemed kinda ner-"

He pushed his lips against you, swallowing your words with a soft moan as he hands found their way around your waist.

When he pulled back, he watched you blink away the confusion. He could practically see the gears of your mind turning. It didn't take long for embarrassment to wash over your features, a look of amusement falling over his own as you lifted a hand to your face in awe.

"Oh, shit," you breathed. "Oh my gosh, I am so sorry. I swear I didn't-'

"Ah, come on, you don't have to be shy. I thought it was cute." A smirk found its way onto his expression.

You turned away from him, trying to ignore the blistering heat finding its way into your cheeks. "What even happened?"

"You're just too trusting." He looped his arms around your body, leaning down to rest his chin on your left shoulder. "What am I gonna do with you?"

Boyish charm dripping off his features, he continued. "But don't worry, I think I might like it better when you're pretending you aren't obsessed with me. It's more satisfying when I get you flustered that way."

"I'm not..." If the lack of confidence coating your words were any indication of their untruthfulness, the way your heart beat seemed to increase with every syllable was the real betrayal.

That was one of Keigo's favorite parts of his quirk, the way his heightened senses could pick up on every hitched breath, every quickening of the muscle in your chest that reinforced your lies.

He spun your around in his arms, gently taking your burning face in his fingers and forcing you to meet his eyes. They raked over your body, hungry and arrogant. "Liar. You were practically grinding on me earlier."

"Fuck." You groaned, the sound seeming to do nothing but widen Keigo's grin.

"Don't worry, gorgeous. I like you too." He gave your waist a little squeeze using his free hand. "And you can get off on me all you want. I'm free right now actually if-"

"Shut up." You gave a lighthearted smack to his chest, but the soft smile brimming from his own confession seemed to abandon any real animosity.

"So, you gonna let me take you out or what?"

You huffed, trying to ignore the way the flirtation lacing his tone made your chest constrict. "Fine. We can go out for coffee or something."

His expression darkened, limbs tightening as he pulled your body into his, head resting atop your like he was scared you would slip out of his grasp. You tried to wriggle out of his hold, cursing those annoyingly attractive muscles that had built up over years of hero work. "You're not allowed to drink coffee anymore."

#“you gotta kiss her” SAY LESS -hawks #hawks #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero acedamia #keigo takami #keigo takami x reader #keigo x reader #hawks x reader #hawks bnha #bnha #hawks x you #bnha imagines #mha x reader #mha imagines #bnha hawks

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