#dabi oneshot

[classyrbf]

Heyyy, idk if you’re still into my hero, but I was wondering if you could do another dabi fic?? I just need something different frfr and maybe a dabi x villain reader if that’s cool w you?

if you do, thank youuuu :3

LOVE AND LIES! — DABI

SYNOPSIS...you and dabi, both villains, find it hard to keep hiding your secret relationship, but you notice his goals lay elsewhere and they definitely don’t include you

INFO...dabi x villain fem!reader, angst, dabi is an asshole, secret relationship, breakup(?), both of them are in the LOV, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

thank you for the request @istoleyourmanho3

A breeze blew past your bare legs, a chill sending up your spine while you pried your eyes open from slumber. The sun shone directly in your face and you could hear the faint sounds of the bustling city just across the water. Your hand reached out to the other side of the bed only to be met with an empty and cold spot.

Finally, you managed to sit up straight, rubbing the tiredness away from your eyes. Turning your head towards the direction of the cruel breeze, you were met with a familiar silhouette. “Good morning,” you called out, voice groggy and low.

Dabi glanced over his shoulder, blowing cigarette smoke from his scarred mouth. “Morning,” he plainly replied. He placed the cigarette between his lips, taking another long drag. He could hear your feet shuffle under the wooden floor as you stepped out onto the balcony with him, your arms finding solace around his waist, resting your head on his bare back.

“I had fun last night,” you murmured against his skin, smiling slightly as you recalled the moments you two were finally able to be alone together.

“Yeah, me too.” He snuffed the cigarette out on the balcony before flicking it off, glancing over where the water met the city. He watched the dock workers load their boats, fishing tools in hand and a solemn look on their faces. He let out a heavy sigh, turning towards you. “We have a mission today so let’s go ready. Group wants us there by ten.” He pushed past you back into the hotel room.

Your brows furrowed at his odd behavior, following behind him and shutting the balcony door. “It’s only seven. Can we at least stay in bed a little longer? We never have time to ourselves anymore.” You grab onto his hand, smiling sweetly at him, but he just pulls away. Your smile faltered at his own dismissive reaction. “Dabi,” you sternly spoke. It’s like he was trapped in his own head, every word you spoke went in one ear and out the other. “Dabi!”

“What?” He turned towards you again as he slipped on his white tee, obviously annoyed. “What is it?”

“Can you slow down for just one second? And can you listen to me?” You asked.

“I’m listening.” He plopped down on the bed, staring up at you with dead eyes.

“What is wrong this morning? Huh?” You curiously step over towards him, reaching your hands out to cup in his face in hopes to comfort him but he is quick to pull your hands back down at your sides.

“Nothing is wrong. Is that what you wanted to ask?” He clenches his jaw. “Get ready.” He grabbed your pants from off the floor and tossed it at you.

You threw them right back at him, an offended look on your face. “I don’t know what crawled up your ass this morning but don’t take it out on me. I just want to spend more time with you before we have to leave. Is that such an issue?” You scoff.

“Maybe it is. I have things I need to do. If you wanna stay here, fine, be my guest.” He stood up from his spot on the bed, walking around the other side to wear his boots were.

“This is first time we’re able to be alone together in over a month and this is how you act?” You stare at him, completely dumbfounded.

“Y/n, maybe I just don’t want to keep hiding this. Us. Whatever the fuck we have going on. It was fun at first but now, not so much. Can you accept that?” He inhaled deeply, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“You’re a fucking asshole! It wasn’t a problem when you dragged me here last night and decided that having sex was no big deal!” Deep down you were genuinely hurt by his words. He was talking to you as if you were some sort of fling, as if you and him didn’t know each other like the back of your hands. Maybe you didn’t.

“Yeah, whatever.” He simply didn’t care anymore. It was like a flip had switched in his brain. Two entirely different people compared to last night and this morning. “There’s more important things to focus on right now.”

“Are you serious?” You stomp over towards him and push him hard enough that he staggers back. “Are we not important enough? Do you just not care anymore? Tell me, Dabi.” You’re glaring into his soul, yet he seems completely unfazed.

“We’re not.” His blunt answer throws you off a little, you’re complete taken aback. “We never were.” And you swear you could feel a sting in your chest. It was an all too familiar feeling. “What’s been important is the mission. You should’ve known that.”

“Wow,” you breathily say, taking a step back from him. “Wow,” you repeat. You can’t help but stare at him in pure disgust and anger. “You make me fucking sick, you know that?”

He just stares at you, watching the way your eyes suddenly change, no longer seeing the slight glint in them. Your voice, it was more deeper, monotone, compared to how you were always soft spoken and gentle with your words. “The mission is important to me too. But just know this, I would’ve forgotten about the mission if it meant me and you would be together. At least that’s what I thought when you told me you loved me. Guess that wasn’t important either, right?” He watches the way your figure disappears into the bathroom, the door slamming behind you.

Dabi let his anger and hunger for revenge consume him entirely. He was more focused on making the ones who hurt him suffer, letting the pain fester and turning into black hole instead of focusing on the good in front of him. And there were times you pulled out of the sinking place of darkness, where he dreamed of another life with you, where you two weren’t wanted either dead or alive for the crimes you’ve committed and certainly didn’t have to hide your love for each other. But the darkness was stronger than he realized, and once again it swallowed him whole. Like a devil on his shoulder, it whispered in his ear of all the horrible things in his past instead of reminding him what could be his future. You.

So with that, Dabi decided to leave. Walking out of the room and leaving you there all alone. He knows you’ll hate him for the rest of your life. Maybe you’ll even try and kill him once this is all over with, cause now he’s also dragged down in the darkness with him.

[seumyo]

DABI | TODOROKI TOUYA ✰ RESONANCE

SYNOPSIS. Todoroki Touya abandoned the bass years ago, unwilling to chase a passion that had only ever led to disappointment. Now a distant but undeniably skilled third-year, he’s pulled back into music when a persistent second-year recruits him for her struggling band. He tells himself it doesn’t matter—but the stage has a way of unraveling the lies he’s built around himself.

PAIRING. [Third Year] Todoroki Touya and [Second Year] Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT. 13k+

CONTENT. Slowburn, Strangers to Acquaintances to Friends to Lovers, College AU, No Quirk!AU, Unhealthy Family (because Ende*vor), Angst with Happy Ending, Music as a Metaphor for Feelings, and so on.

AUTHOR’S NOTE. Haha (hides). This took SEVEN MONTHS, oh em gee. I’m never attempting to write long fics ever again (this was so fun). For my dearest, @seneon. Your long-overdue Bassist!Touya fic is finally here. And also @suksatoru, an absolute icon with who inspired me to write for Touya this way from her Carnations series <33 Special thank you to all my beta readers: Ali, Fio, Rinne, my brother—because without you guys, I would’ve just scrapped this whole idea and never let it see the light. I hope all Touya fans are fed with this !!

“Mr. Todoroki,” the professor began, leaning against his desk with arms crossed. “You’re intelligent. That much is clear from your written work. But intelligence without effort will only get you so far.”

Touya leaned against his chair, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket. “Didn’t realize effort was part of the grading system.”

“It is,” the professor replied. “That, and participation—which you’re both lacking. I suggest joining an organization—something to engage you beyond sitting in the back of a classroom and coasting through your courses.”

Touya let out a humorless laugh as if he just heard the funniest joke of his life, shaking his head.

“I’ll pass.”

“And why is that?”

“It’s just… not my thing, sir,” he muttered finally, his tone clipped. He didn’t need to say anything else to him.

The professor studied him for a moment, then sighed. “You’re only wasting your own potential, Mr. Todoroki. Though I do understand that you’re still adjusting from just having transferred two months ago. One day, you’ll realize that life isn’t going to wait for you to catch up.”

Touya didn’t respond. He just left the room once he was free to do so and didn’t bother letting his professor’s words linger too long with him.

Potential? What would his professor know about his own potential? As if the word hasn’t already been engraved in his mind from the moment he turned six, haunting him like a ghost out for revenge.

“Stupid professor,” he muttered under his breath. But even as he said it, he knew the real frustration wasn’t with the professor—or the thing that’s been holding him back, or anyone else. 

It was with him.

-

Lunchtime was always so chaotic in this university. Touya didn’t understand what the fuss was all about. But the food was good, surprisingly; he’ll give them that.

He settled into a routine. Sit on the farthest free table and have his earphones in, not because he was listening to anything, but because they were a convenient excuse to ignore anyone who tried to talk to him. He liked the solitude and how students here respected each other’s personal space.

So when a shadow fell over his table, he barely glanced up, assuming it was someone asking to join him at the table or grab the extra chair. You know, the usual stuff that happens in college—where everyone’s apparently too busy with their lives to meddle with others.

“Hey. You’re Todoroki, right?”

The voice wasn’t familiar. It was clear, a little raspy, and full of smugness that just screamed that this someone found the person they were looking for. Reluctantly, Touya looked up, locking eyes with the girl standing in front of him.

You weren’t anyone he recognized—definitely not from any of his classes. Your hands were behind your back, your posture casual yet still somewhat polite.

“And if I am?” he replied, his voice as flat and uninviting as he could manage.

You tilted your head slightly, offering him a smile. “Good. Saves me the trouble of asking around.” You bowed slightly in greeting, introducing your name and the department program you’re in. “Second year, I run the school band.”

He didn’t return the gesture, though he did raise an unimpressed eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. “Congrats? Do you want a medal or something?”

“I heard you’re good at playing bass.”

The words caught him off guard. Touya’s nonchalant expression is replaced by a flicker of something sharper, something guarded. “Who told you that?”

You shrugged, the motion deliberately casual. “Word gets around. Especially when someone is as good as you supposedly are.”

“Well, whoever said that was wrong. I don’t play anymore.”

Touya clenched his jaw, looking past you toward the window. The question scraped against old wounds he thought he’d buried—memories of playing in his room, of pouring everything into the bass that he’s only ever known.

“It’s not my thing anymore,” he muttered, barely loud enough to hear. “Sorry, kid. You’re years too late to have met me in my prime.”

“Not a kid—we’re probably around the same age,” you quipped. “And I don’t buy that.”

Your bluntness made him pause. He blinked, his head snapping back toward you. “Excuse me?”

“You don’t quit something like that unless there’s a reason,” you answered simply, your tone light but unrelenting. “And honestly? Professor Hamasaki actually forwarded his concern to me, so I think you really need it.”

Of course his professor had to have come up with an intervention for him. He spoke too soon about this new university letting him mind his own business.

“What does that even mean?”

“It means,” you said, crossing your arms and straightening up, “you look like someone who’s got way too much going on up here”—you tapped your temple—“and has no idea where to put it. Trust me, I’ve seen it before.”

Your words hit closer than he wanted to admit, and the smug look on your face didn’t help. He shook his head. 

“You’re annoying—putting your nose in other people’s lives.”

“I—”

He scoffed, raising a hand as if to stop you. “I told you, I don’t play anymore. Find someone else.”

“Can’t.”

“You’re the only bassist worth tracking down. And I’m not just looking for anyone—I’m looking for you. You ever heard of this university’s motto?”

“No, and I don’t care. Leave.” His voice was curt, unwelcoming now.

“Ut Optimi Simus.” That we may be the best.

Touya stared at you, his expression unreadable. You just couldn’t take the hint, could you? That much was clear on his end.

And to drop the school motto? What is he getting himself into? 

What kind of self-obsessed students did this university have?

“Look,” you continued, “we’ve got a spot open in the band, and I think you’d kill it. Just come to one practice. One. If it sucks, you can walk out, and I’ll never bother you again. Deal?”

There was a challenge in your tone, one that sparked something dormant in him. He could have shut you down again, could have sent you packing with another snarky comment. But for some reason—maybe it was the way you spoke or the strange mix of stubbornness and sincerity in your expression—he hesitated.

Maybe you would just bother him again if he refused; who knows?

But Todoroki Touya was screwed before he realized it.

“One practice,” he muttered finally.

“Yes!” you cheered, a bit too loud, which had the other students’ heads turning toward your direction. Touya had to rub a hand over his face. Great. More unwanted attention.

“Whoops—but that’s all I need. Music room, next week, after your class. Building GENM. Don’t be late, Todoroki.”

He stared at the empty space where you’d been standing, then at the table in front of him, where his phone lay forgotten.

“What the hell did I just agree to?” he muttered under his breath, but he couldn’t shake the strange feeling that, for the first time in a long while, he might be walking into something worth his time.

Then again, it might be.

-

The week had passed in a blur for Touya. He hadn’t thought about the band—or you—much since your brief, honestly impulsive encounter. He convinced himself it was just another passing distraction, something to shrug off and forget about, like he usually did with things that demanded more of him than he wanted to give.

And yet, there he was, standing in the dimly lit hallway outside the music room, staring at the door like it might open on its own and save him the trouble of deciding whether to walk in.

It wasn’t like he owed you anything. He’d said he’d come to one practice—only one—and even then, he hadn’t really promised he’d participate. If you had any sense, you’d take the hint that he wouldn’t touch the bass.

Still, something made him turn the doorknob and step inside.

The room smelled faintly of old wood and metal, a mix of familiarity and nostalgia that hit him square in the chest. His gaze flicked around, taking in the scattered instruments, the amplifiers, and the slightly worn drum set shoved into a corner.

At the center of it all was you.

You were perched on a stool, your hoodie hanging loose off one shoulder as you leaned forward over a notebook in your lap. Your hand moved in quick, messy strokes as you scribbled notes, humming softly to yourself. A keyboard sat in front of you, the occasional sound of a chord filling the space as you tinkered with the rhymes and chords.

Your voice was soft, pleasing to hear, the kind of voice that could wrap around someone and pull them in without asking. Sort of like a siren, enchanting—bewitching.

“Damn, still doesn’t feel right,” you muttered to yourself, tapping the pen against your lips before crossing out a line. 

Touya stood there for a moment, unnoticed, just… watching. There was an ease to the way you worked. Quiet and focused. He didn’t know if it was weird to just stand there and watch, but it took him a minute to compose himself.

Finally, he cleared his throat.

You jolted, nearly dropping your notebook. You glance around to face him, your eyes meeting him before recognition softens your expression into a joyful one.

“Would it kill you to knock? We should’ve really put a sign to knock first before entering around here,” you joked, closing the notebook and setting it aside. “Didn’t think you’d actually show up.”

Touya shrugged, slipping his hands into his jacket’s pockets. “Guess I had nothing better to do.”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that.”

Your teasing tone was annoying, but it wasn’t enough to make him leave. Instead, he let his gaze wander to the instruments again.

“Is that for me?” he asked, nodding toward the bass leaning against the wall.

“Yup. Freshly tuned and everything. Had to get new strings because the last idiot who used it was just awful.” You stepped aside, gesturing toward it. “Figured you’d want something decent to work with.”

It had been a long time since he’d touched a bass. Too long. But he forced himself to walk over, crouching down to inspect it. His fingers brushed the strings lightly; it felt like meeting something familiar again.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

But before he could even pick up the bass, the door burst open with a loud thud.

“[Name]!”

The shout startled you both, and Touya turned to see a tall guy—not as tall as he is, probably—standing in the doorway, a guitar case slung over one shoulder as he tried to catch his breath. His face was flushed, and he looked like he’d sprinted all the way there.

“Kaito?” you said, frowning. “What’s wrong?”

This guy, Kaito, ignored your question, his gaze landing on Touya briefly before shifting back to you. “We’ve got a problem.”

You groaned, running a hand down your face. “Of course we do. When have we never? What now?”

“One of the judges for the festival just backed out,” Kaito explained, stepping fully into the room. “And the committee’s freaking out. They want all bands to perform a teaser set tomorrow to convince the others to stay on board.”

You blinked. “You’re joking.”

He shook his head, the guitar case slipping slightly on his shoulder. “I wish I was. They’re saying it’s our only shot at keeping everything on track. Rikiyama said so herself.”

Touya raised an eyebrow, looking between the two of you. 

“Festival?” he asked, his tone flat.

You let out a long sigh, finally turning back to him. “School music festival. Big deal, lots of bands competing for sponsorships and a chance to compete nationally. We’re signed up, obviously, but now they want us to play tomorrow. Which is insane, by the way.”

Kaito finally seemed to register Touya’s presence, his head tilting to the side. “Is this the Todoroki you were talking about, [Name]?”

“Our new bassist,” you answered breezily, grinning as if the words were the most natural thing in the world.

Touya shot you a glare, his posture stiff. “Not yet. I haven’t agreed to anything.”

“Well,” you said, clapping your hands together, “looks like you’re about to. Lucky for us, huh?”

“Hold up,” Kaito said, stepping closer. “This guy’s the bassist? You’re bringing in someone new now? Do the others know?”

“Relax, they know,” you replied, waving him off. “Oh, and he’s good. Better than good.”

Kaito didn’t look convinced, but before he could argue, you turned back to Touya.

“Guess you’re jumping in sooner than expected.” Your statement was something that can’t be denied; even Kaito caught onto it.

Touya stared at you. He could feel the weight of the bass guitar in his hand, the pressure of the situation finally making itself known to him.

And yet, for some reason, he didn’t leave.

-

The day of the teaser set was supposed to be the day you reclaimed your band’s undefeated title. 

The kind of event that set the tone for the upcoming music festival. To keep spectators and sponsors engaged. Not… whatever was happening backstage.

Backstage was tense. You stood near the edge of the curtain, peeking out at the crowd as they settled into their seats. The band was set to go on in less than ten minutes, but your focus wasn’t on the audience—it was on the absence of one particular bass player.

“He’s not coming,” Kaito said from behind you, his voice flat. He leaned against a stack of amplifier cases, arms crossed, his usual laid-back demeanor replaced with thinly veiled irritation. “I called it the second he said he hasn’t agreed to anything yet.”

You didn’t answer immediately. You let the curtain fall back into place, turning to face the rest of the team. “We don’t know that yet. He might just be late.”

“True,” Haru sighed dejectedly. He’s the one who handles the keyboard and prefers to keep his opinion to himself most of the time rather than voicing it out loud—a second-year in your class.

Kaito scoffed. “Late is still bad. This isn’t some casual jam session, [Name]. This is our shot at keeping the sponsors happy. If they pull out, it’s over.”

One of the other band members, the usually energetic drummer named Yuuma, chimed in. “Kaito’s got a point. If he hasn’t shown up by now, he’s probably not coming.”

You exhaled sharply, running a hand through your hair. “Then we’ll do it without him,” you decided, trying to mask the knot of disappointment tightening in your chest.

Kaito shook his head, clearly exasperated. “This is why I said you shouldn’t go scouting random people at the last minute. You can’t trust someone who’s barely committed. Plus, we could’ve offered the slot to someone else.”

“Kaito,” you frowned, your tone sharper than usual. The entire band looked at you in surprise, and you softened slightly, your shoulders relaxing. “Look, I get it, okay? But we don’t have time for this. We’ve played without a bassist before, and we can do it again.”

He muttered something under his breath but didn’t push further.

The stage manager appeared a moment later, signaling that it was time for your set. You took a deep breath, adjusting the strap of your guitar as the band moved into position.

As you stepped onto the stage, the audience greeted you with polite applause, and the blinding stage lights made it impossible to see the faces in the crowd clearly. You swore someone from the technical team really wanted to blind you and your team one of these days.

You approached the microphone, your voice steady as you introduced your band and the first song. “Thanks for being here, everyone! This is a little something we’ve been working on for a while now.”

Yuuma gave the count-off, and the music began.

The first song went smoothly. Kaito’s electric guitar filled in the gaps left by the missing bassline, and your vocals were working overtime to keep the audience engaged. The crowd seemed to enjoy it, clapping along during the choruses and cheering loudly by the end.

But something felt off.

The music was fine, technically speaking. You hit all the right notes and kept the rhythm tight, but it lacked the depth that a good bassline could bring. It was like there was a hollow space in the sound, a space that Touya’s presence could’ve filled.

It should’ve felt like a victory. To be able to perform without a bassist.

You also noticed the way the judges whispered among themselves, one even talking to the university’s president.

“Well, that wasn’t a complete disaster,” Kaito murmured, though his tone was less than enthusiastic as you all returned back to your practice room.

“Could’ve been better,” Yuuma muttered, packing up his drumsticks.

“I guess,” Haru pouted, flicking his wrist back and forth.

You didn’t say anything. You set your guitar down carefully, your movements slow and deliberate, as if everything wasn’t real just yet.

Kaito noticed your silence, obviously, and leaned back in his chair. “You’re not seriously still thinking about him, are you?”

“I’m not thinking about him,” you replied quickly.

He hummed faintly, clearly unconvinced, but he let it drop.

As the rest of the band packed up their gear and got out of the room, you stayed for a minute. You found yourself staring at the bass leaning against the wall, untouched and waiting. For a moment, you allowed yourself to imagine what it would’ve sounded like if Touya had been there, if his bassline had woven seamlessly into your music and added the missing piece to tie the whole performance together.

But then you shook your head, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder.

“Doesn’t matter,” you muttered under your breath, the words more for yourself than anyone else.

“He already made his choice.” You did sound a little bummed out about it, though.

With one last glance at the bass, you left the room, making sure to lock it on your way out, determined to push Todoroki Touya out of your mind. This would be the last time you’ll ever think of him.

Or so you told yourself.

-

The aftermath was everything but light. It was merciless.

The following week wasn’t as pleasant as you thought it’d be; you couldn’t walk two steps without hearing the agitating murmurs.

“I thought she said they had a bassist?”

“What happened? Did the guy just dip?”

“Damn, imagine embarrassing yourself in front of the whole school like that.”

You clenched your jaw and kept walking, ignoring the sting that settled deep in your gut. You had been prepared for some backlash, sure, but you hadn’t expected the weight of it—the way the entire school seemed to know, the way the student council president looked at you with thinly veiled disappointment when the secretary and treasurer greeted you down the hall.

You had been so sure. You had told them, had promised them that you finally had a full band, that you were ready to compete. Just like once upon a time. And now, you had nothing to show for it.

Now you seem like a liar.

And Touya just… disappeared completely from your radar.

It was your fault; you knew that now. The man hasn’t even known you for longer than two weeks, and you expect him to do something as big as perform for a teaser set? You must have been so entitled to have thought of that.

So selfish to have only thought about what you want and never thought about what he wanted.

The meeting with the president later that afternoon only made it worse.

You sat stiffly in the office, your hands clenched into fists in your lap. Across from you, the president and a few teachers sat with unreadable expressions, while the event’s organizers and two members of the student council looked far less amused. Haru and Kaito flanked your sides—Yuuma called in sick on the second day of the week.

The president sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Ms. [Last Name], I’ll be honest with you. This situation has put us in a difficult position.”

You forced yourself to stay calm. 

“We do have a band,” you said evenly. “We just had an issue with our bassist showing up. But it’s temporary. We’ll fix it.”

One of the organizers, a woman in a navy blazer, exchanged a look with the student council members. “That may be, but you don’t have a bassist right now,” she pointed out. “And without one, your band does not meet the minimum requirements to represent our school in competition. The sponsors and judges of high authority weren’t too thrilled with your performance last week as well. We had to compromise some of them to stay for the music festival.”

Haru sighed softly. “Then what will happen to us?”

The president hesitated, as if reluctant to say it out loud. “We’re giving you until the end of the month,” he said finally. “If you can’t secure a bassist by then… I’m afraid we’ll have to dissolve your band.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Disband? Just like that?

Kaito shot up from his seat, palms flat on the table. “You can’t be serious. We’ve been working our as— very hard on this since last year, please.”

“We are very serious, Mr. Watanabe.” The president's voice was firm but not unkind. “The school’s music program is already under pressure for funding. With many bands making themselves known each year. If we can’t prove that your band is viable for competition, we can’t continue allocating resources to you.”

Haru exhaled sharply beside you, shifting in his seat.

You could feel the walls closing in, the weight of their situation pressing on your shoulders.

One month. That was all you had.

Your mind raced, going over every possible option, every potential bassist you could reach out to. But the truth was, other bands had already scouted most of the available musicians at school. If there were any other bassists capable of keeping up with you, you would have known.

And the worst part? The absolute worst part?

You already had the right person for the job.

You had found someone who could play at the level you needed—someone so good that even Kaito, with all his attitude, had begrudgingly acknowledged his skill.

But he was also the same person who didn’t want to play anymore. And you can’t force someone to do the things that make them unhappy.

You sucked in a deep breath, steadying yourself.

“We understand,” you said finally, forcing your voice to stay calm. “We’ll find someone. Thank you for your kindness.”

The meeting wrapped up shortly after, but the weight of it didn’t leave you, even as you stepped out into the hallway. It felt like your heart was lodged in your throat, rendering you silent.

The moment the office door clicked shut, Kaito exploded.

“This is bullshit,” he snapped, running a hand through his hair. “All because some spoiled rich kid couldn’t be bothered to show up just for one gig?” He let out a bitter laugh. “Unbelievable.”

You didn’t say anything.

Kaito turned to you, eyes sharp. “Tell me you’re not still thinking about him.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m thinking about where we’ll find a good bassist. That’s all.”

Kaito scoffed. “Right. And who exactly do you think is good enough to replace him on such short notice? The others combed through almost all musicians in school.”

“Easy, Kai,” Haru told his friend.

You had no answer.

Because no matter how much you hated to admit it, there wasn’t anyone else.

Kaito must have caught the hesitation in your silence because his expression finally relented. “No. Let’s not think about it anymore.”

You adjusted the strap of your bag. 

“We’ll figure it out,” you said, sidestepping the subject entirely.

Kaito sighed.

“She’s right,” Haru said. “We don’t have a choice.”

You nodded once, more to yourself than anyone else.

One month.

One month to fix this.

One month to… figure things out for better or worse.

And unfortunately, there was only one person who could.

And you were sure that he no longer wanted to see you.

But you had to talk to him one last time. For closure.

-

It was late. Touya’s classes usually stretched to 7 in the evening on Thursdays.

Touya was halfway down the stairs of the main building, hands shoved in his pockets, his steps unhurried. The night air was crisp, but he barely felt it. He had done what he always did—attended just enough classes to stay off his professors’ radar, killed time, and now, finally, he was going home.

But then he saw you.

You stood near the entrance, arms crossed, your bag slung over one shoulder. You weren’t blocking his way, but you didn’t move when he approached, your stance solid like you had been waiting for him.

He raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t know you were the waiting type.”

You didn’t react to the teasing. Not even a glare.

“I get it,” you said instead, your voice unnervingly steady. “You don’t want to play.”

Touya slowed to a stop, tilting his head.

Something about the way you said it made his neutral expression turn to a simple frown—because there was no anger, no frustration, no accusations. Just a simple statement, like you had already accepted it.

Took her long enough.

He shrugged. “Took you long enough to figure that out.”

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head, and for the first time, he noticed how exhausted you looked. Not physically—no, you were still standing tall, still looking him in the eye—but there was something in your expression, something worn down at the edges.

“I know.”

Your hands are clenched at your sides, knuckles tight.

“You could’ve just said no. You could’ve told me in the practice room that you weren’t going to do it. That you actually didn’t care. That you were going to let me stand up there and make a fool of myself in front of the entire school—because at least I would’ve been prepared.”

Touya’s smirk twitched but didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I never promised you anything.”

Your shoulders stiffened.

“Because you didn’t refuse that day, when Kaito asked who you were. You picked up the bass, played a few chords, and stayed an hour or less than you intended to. You let me hope. And maybe that was entirely my fault.”

Touya didn’t respond.

Didn’t shift, didn’t look away, but something in his posture went unnervingly still.

You let out a breath, closing your eyes for half a second before opening them again. “Do you have any idea what it was like?” you asked. “Standing up there, knowing everyone was laughing at us? Knowing the only reason we even got to play was because the judges were being polite?”

He had heard.

He hadn’t gone to the teaser set, but the rumors had found him anyway. Your band had been the first to perform to keep the judges on board—only to be the one band without a bassist.

A missing piece in an otherwise well-practiced performance.

A joke.

The sponsors and judges weren’t happy at all.

Your laugh was quiet, bitter. “We were supposed to set the standard, Todoroki. We were supposed to show them why the school backs us—that’s why we were the first to perform. And instead, we just… gave them every reason to doubt us.”

Touya’s jaw tightened just slightly, but his expression remained neutral. “That’s not my problem.”

“Yeah. I figured.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The sounds of the city beyond the school gates filled the silence—the distant rumble of a passing car, the buzz of a streetlamp overhead.

Then, finally, you straightened.

“But I was happy,” you admitted. “To have seen you play in person. To have known that I was one of the first to approach you for your talent before anyone could even connect the dots with your name.”

Touya was quiet as you spoke, allowing you to tell him how you truly felt about the situation.

“Thank you for taking your time to visit our music room. And… I’m sorry, really sorry if you felt pressured to play because of my persistence. I know that now.”

Well, that took a turn, Touya thought to himself.

“I’m not going to bother you anymore,” you continued. “But I do really—genuinely appreciate you giving us your time.”

Touya felt something in his chest shift, but he ignored it.

You bowed for one last time and turned on your heel without another word.

He didn’t stop you.

Didn’t say anything as you walked away, disappearing into the dimly lit street.

Didn’t watch as you left him alone with the cold and the distant echoes of everything you had just said.

-

The house was silent when he got home.

It always was.

Touya kicked off his shoes in the entryway, not bothering to turn on the lights. Everything was still—too still.

His siblings wouldn’t be home for another hour.

The scent of old wood and polish lingered in the air, clean and sterile. The housekeeper must have been here earlier, tidying up everything that didn’t need tidying. It felt suffocating, the way nothing ever changed here.

His steps were slow as he made his way up the stairs, fingers dragging along the smooth railing. The portraits lining the walls were familiar, but he didn’t spare them a glance. Family pictures. Moments frozen in time. He knew what they looked like without having to see them—his siblings, perfect and poised; his mother, distant yet present; and his father, always standing in the center like an immovable force.

Touya wasn’t in most of them. 

Who knows what he must’ve been doing—or what he’s done for him to not be included?

His fingers curled against the wood before he withdrew his hand.

At the end of the hall, his bedroom door stood half-open, just as he had left it that morning. He pushed it open fully, stepping inside.

The room was clean, untouched, just like the rest of the house seemed to be every time he came back. Sometimes he questions if a family truly lives in this house. A house, because it never felt like home.

His gaze flickered across the shelves first. Medals hung from carefully arranged hooks, ribbons still tied neatly around them. Gold, silver, bronze—some gleaming, some dulled with time. A display case lined with trophies sat against the wall, their engraved plates catching the little light from his window.

They were proof of what he had once been.

A prodigy. A name whispered among teachers and musicians alike.

Someone who had been going somewhere.

But none of it had mattered.

His eyes landed on the bass guitar in the corner.

It rested against the wall, still in its worn case, the handle covered in faint scratches from when he used to carry it everywhere. He could almost feel the weight of it in his hands again, the familiar press of strings against his fingertips.

But it had been years since he actually played.

Years since he had felt anything when he looked at it.

Touya’s throat felt tight as he stepped further into the room.

At first, he had tried so hard. He had thrown himself into music with everything he had, drowning in it, desperate to carve out a space for himself in a family that never had room for him.

And for a while—just a little while—he had been good enough.

His teachers had praised him. His instructors had fought over who got to mentor him. People had noticed him.

But then his younger siblings had grown up.

And suddenly, his achievements weren’t enough anymore.

His father had never said it outright, but Touya had known. He had felt it in the way the encouragement faded, in the way the compliments grew fewer, in the way Enji barely looked at his trophies anymore.

You should focus on something more practical, his father had said once, as if music had been nothing more than a hobby. As if Touya had wasted all those years for nothing.

So he had stopped playing.

What was the point? What was the point of pouring himself into something that didn’t matter? What was the point of trying when no matter how good he got, it would never be enough?

Touya exhaled slowly, his gaze dragging back to his bass.

Even now, even after years of refusing to touch it, something in his chest twisted at the sight of it.

He told himself he didn’t care anymore. That it didn’t bother him.

But then your words came back to him, quiet but sharp.

You let me hope. And maybe that was entirely my fault.

His jaw clenched.

You looked so—tired. Not just angry, not just frustrated, but done. Like you had spent everything you had trying to reach him. 

To reach something that could never be reached.

And for what?

Because he couldn’t face his own ghosts?

Touya let out a quiet scoff, running a hand down his face.

What the hell was wrong with him?

He turned away from the bass, shoving his hands in his pockets.

You weren’t entitled to his skills.

It didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter that it used to mean everything to him. It didn’t matter that he used to love it. It didn’t matter that for a few years, music had been the only thing keeping him from losing himself completely.

None of it mattered.

Not anymore.

And yet—

Touya lingered in the doorway, staring at the bass for one second too long before finally walking away.

-

Dinner was quiet that night. 

Touya sat at the far end of the long table, arms crossed, eyes heavy-lidded with the kind of exhaustion that never seemed to leave him these days. The air in the house was the same as always—too clean, too cold, too silent. 

He propped his elbow against the table and rested his chin on his knuckles, watching his father from across the room. Enji Todoroki, a powerhouse of a businessman, always the center of everything, even here. He ate in silence, posture rigid, movements deliberate.

Touya barely touched his food.

Natsuo sat two seats away, quiet but visibly tense. Fuyumi kept sneaking glances at him, her fingers fidgeting against her utensils. Shouto sat at his usual place, unmoving, eating mechanically like he wasn’t aware of the thick tension hanging in the air.

Touya let his gaze drop to the table, to his own reflection faintly visible in the polished wood.

It was funny, in a twisted sort of way.

He used to sit here as a kid, hanging onto every word his father said, desperate for even the smallest ounce of approval. He used to listen to Enji talk about Shouto’s lessons, about the weight of responsibility, about greatness.

And for a while, he had been a part of that.

For a while, Touya had been someone his father actually looked at.

The kid who could play with instinct, who picked up the bass and made it sing like he had been born to do it.

And back then, Enji had actually acknowledged it.

Not praise, not exactly, but recognition. His father had seen the way Touya played, the way his sponsors praised his name, the way his name had spread through competitions like wildfire, and for a short while—Touya had mattered.

Until he didn’t.

Until his siblings started excelling at everything else. 

Natsuo was an academic. He soared through school with ease, outpacing everyone in his classes. His teachers raved about his intelligence, his potential.

Fuyumi was diligent and capable, always responsible, always steady, the one who excelled in sports. Swimming, volleyball, badminton—you name it, she could probably learn how to do it within two days maximum.

And Shouto—

Shouto was the golden child. The one their father had molded for years. The one meant for greatness, destined to surpass even Enji himself. He had a fragment of each of his siblings’ greatness.

And Touya?

Touya played music. And suddenly music wasn’t as great as academics, or sports, or arts.

One day, his father had simply stopped asking about his lessons. He had stopped attending his performances. Had stopped looking at the trophies he brought home, the medals he placed on his shelf.

And Touya knew then.

Knew that to Enji, he had already been left behind.

He swallowed down the bitterness clawing at his throat, his fingers curling against the table.

The silence in the room was unbearable.

So he broke it.

“You know,” Touya said suddenly, voice slow and deliberate, “I’ve been thinking.”

Enji didn’t look up. “About what?”

Touya tilted his head, watching him carefully. “About how pointless everything is.”

That got his father’s attention. Of course, it would. Enji finally met his gaze, brow furrowing slightly.

“Watch your tone,” he warned.

“Or what?” His voice was light, careless. “You gonna scold me? Ground me? Tell me that I’m throwing my life away in studying politics?”

Fuyumi’s lips parted slightly, like she wanted to interject. Natsuo tensed. Shouto kept eating, but Touya knew he was listening.

Enji exhaled slowly, setting his chopsticks down. “If you have something to say, say it.”

Touya dragged a hand through his hair, breathing in sharply. “Alright. Fine.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I spent years playing the bass. I was good at it. No—scratch that. I was the best at it. You know that. My teachers knew that. Everyone knew that.” His voice hardened. “And you let me. You let me believe that it mattered, that it was worth something. And then one day, just like that, you decided it wasn’t.”

Enji remained impassive. “I never told you to stop playing.”

“You didn’t have to.”

He could still remember it. The shift. The subtle, almost imperceptible way his father’s attention drifted. How the words of encouragement—rare as they were—had faded. How the pride that once flickered in his father’s expression whenever he won had dulled until it was nothing but disdain.

Because music wasn’t important. Because it wasn’t a legacy. Because Touya playing the bass isn’t important. Because music wouldn’t help him become a candidate to rise to the business world.

And that had killed something in him.

“Do you even get it?” Touya’s voice rose slightly, sharp and bitter. “Do you know what it feels like? To pour everything you have into something, to love something so much it becomes a part of you, only to have it tossed aside like it’s nothing?” His fingers clenched against the table. “What was the point? What was the point of me trying? What was the point of all the competitions, the trophies, the lessons? What was the point of any of it if you were just going to decide it wasn’t worth your time?”

Enji was silent.

Of course, he was.

Touya’s laugh was louder this time, almost incredulous. He shook his head, his grip tightening. “I should’ve known, huh?” His voice was quieter now, something bitter curling around the edges. “The moment my siblings started excelling, I should’ve known.”

Enji’s brows furrowed slightly, but he didn’t refute it. Didn’t deny it.

Because it was true.

Because Touya had spent years waiting—waiting for something, anything, that told him he still was important. That he wasn’t just something his father had already discarded.

But Enji was as quiet as ever.

And that told him everything he needed to know.

His fists slowly unclenched. His expression smoothed over into something colder. He exhaled, pushing his chair back with a quiet scrape of wood against the tile.

“Forget it.”

He stood up, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Fuyumi called out his name softly, but he ignored it. Natsuo watched him leave with something tight in his expression. Shouto didn’t move.

And Enji—

Enji didn’t stop him.

Touya didn’t look back.

Because what was the point in arguing with a wall?

But Touya knew the conversation was far from over.

-

“We need to talk.”

Touya let out a slow breath through his nose, already bracing himself. He didn’t stop to acknowledge him right away, just leaned down to untie his boots, drawing out the motion. He knew how this worked. Enji didn’t like raised voices, didn’t like drawn-out arguments, and didn’t like things disrupting his carefully maintained order. If Touya ignored him long enough, maybe he’d just drop it.

But, of course, Enji Todoroki never dropped anything. Especially not after the stunt he pulled earlier.

Touya sighed and finally straightened, rolling his shoulders as he turned. “Yeah?” He blinked lazily, voice laced with dry amusement. “What groundbreaking wisdom do you have for me this time?”

“You need to stop this,” Enji said, tone clipped.

“Stop what, exactly?” He tilted his head. “Speaking my mind?”

“Throwing a tantrum.”

“Ohhh. That’s what we’re calling it?” He let his voice drop into something almost conversational. “No, you see, I thought I was just telling the truth. You did say honesty is the best policy.”

Enji’s expression didn’t change. His silence pressed against Touya’s ribs like an iron weight.

Touya rolled his eyes. “Alright, fine. Lay it on me. What’s the lecture this time? That I’m being unreasonable?” He snorted. “That I should be grateful?”

Enji exhaled carefully. “I never told you to stop playing music.”

“Oh yeah? You sure about that?”

“I told you not to rely on it,” Enji clarified, tone flat.

Touya clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Yeah. Yeah, I know. Keep it as a hobby. Something to do on the side. Something that wouldn’t distract me.” His voice dipped into something laced with mockery. “Because that’s what you always do, huh?”

Enji narrowed his eyes slightly. “Touya—”

“No, seriously.” Touya let out a sharp, humorless chuckle, stepping closer. “First, you push me into it. You tell me I’ve got talent, that I should hone it, that I should train.” His voice dropped into something razor-sharp. “And I did.”

His gaze burned, unrelenting.

“I played,” he continued. “I trained. I performed. And I was good, wasn’t I?” His voice was laced with something bitter. “I was great.”

Enji didn’t deny it.

“But then one day, you just…” He snapped his fingers. “Checked out. Like it didn’t matter anymore.” His jaw tightened. “As if playing music was the most disappointing thing any of your children could’ve done. Or maybe that case only applied to me?”

Silence.

Touya inhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “But, hey, that wasn’t enough, was it?” His lips curled into something sharp, his voice laced with venom. “No, because after making it real clear that music wasn’t worth your time, you decided to shove me into something else instead.”

His eyes burned.

“Business administration.”

Enji’s face hardened.

“You actually thought I’d be like you.” Touya laughed. It was a clear joke to him. “Like I gave a single shit about your business.”

Enji exhaled slowly, shaking his head. “You’re intelligent, Touya. If you had stuck with it—”

“If I had stuck with it? Are you kidding me?” His voice rose, heated. “I never wanted that, old man! You wanted that!” He gestured wildly. “And you shoved me into it like you do with everything else because you thought it was better than me playing music!”

He took a slow, measured breath, voice lowering into something cold.

“And the worst part? I still tried.” His lips twisted. “I spent two years in that goddamn conservative, traditional university, forcing myself to study something I hated just because you thought it was acceptable.”

His fingers curled into fists. “And the second I transferred out, you had the audacity to act like it was my decision.”

He dropped his voice into a dead-on mimicry: “Why didn’t you say anything sooner? How could you waste two years?”

“Like you didn’t push me into it in the first place. You do that with everyone—Fuyumi would’ve still been competing today if you hadn’t discouraged her, Natsuo and Shouto as well.”

Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.

Touya inhaled sharply through his nose. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, but no less bitter.

“I didn’t even want to just play music,” he muttered. “I had a plan. I was gonna study law. Be a lawyer.” He scoffed. “Did you even know that?”

Enji’s brows furrowed slightly, but he said nothing.

Touya scoffed. “Yeah, I didn't think so.” He shook his head. “I wanted to help. I wanted to be something. And I still wanted to play, still wanted to keep music as a part of my life—because it was with me for almost all of my life. But you made me feel like that was stupid. A childish dream that I was bound to let go of.”

His throat tightened.

“You made me feel like it wasn’t worth it.”

“Touya, you needed direction.”

“No,” Touya snapped. “I needed a choice. I needed support. But you never gave me one.”

Silence.

“You forced me into music. Then you forced me into business. And when I walked away from both, you just acted like none of it ever mattered. Like I had humiliated everything that you had built for this family.”

Enji’s expression didn’t change.

“No surprise, though, huh?” He tilted his head, voice dropping into something dangerously quiet. “Because Shouto could finally fill in my shoes.”

Enji’s jaw tightened, just slightly.

“Yeah, that’s what it is, isn’t it? Did I hit a nerve there, Dad?” His voice wavered, barely perceptible. “You didn’t need to focus on me anymore, so you didn’t.”

Touya’s fists clenched.

“I should’ve known better.”

Enji remained silent.

“Forget it,” he muttered, stepping out. “I’m going back to my dorm.”

And so, it did.

-

What used to be a room full of noise was now uncomfortably quiet.

You stood in the middle of it, arms crossed, gaze sweeping over the half-empty space that had once been yours. It didn’t feel real. The shelves where you used to stack your equipment were bare. The walls, once lined with posters and setlists, were empty now—just blank, peeling paint and old tape residue. The air smelled like dust and memories you weren’t ready to let go of.

You swallowed down the lump in your throat and forced yourself to keep moving.

Yuuma was coiling up the last of the cables, his usual easy grin nowhere to be seen. Kaito crouched near the amplifiers, wrapping them up carefully like they weren’t just equipment but something precious. Haru had already taken down the band’s old posters, stacking them in a neat pile like he couldn’t bring himself to crumple them up or throw them away.

It was too quiet.

The kind of quiet that came with the weight of finality, of something ending when you weren’t ready for it to.

You bent down and picked up a box of loose sheet music, flipping through old setlists and unfinished lyrics scrawled in fading ink. Some of these songs had never made it past rehearsals. Some of them had performed on your biggest nights, your loudest wins. And now?

Now they were just scraps of paper.

You exhaled softly and shoved them into the box.

A few feet away, Haru stacked another case onto the pile by the door and sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “You think the next band’s gonna do anything with this place?”

You shrugged, not trusting yourself to answer.

Yuuma snorted softly. “They won’t be us.”

No one disagreed.

Because it was true.

You had been the best. The best. Your band was the one that had carried the university through every local competition, every festival for a year straight. You have been known for your energy, your chemistry, and your sound. You were the band that made people stay even after the headliners left. 

The absolute blueprint.

But now?

Now, you were just another band that fell apart because people moved on. Your former bassist chose to focus on his internship, which you respected. The others started quitting as well due to some other conflicts, and only Kaito, Yuuma, and Haru stayed. You were thankful for that.

Kaito let out a slow breath and leaned against the table. “We really thought we could hold out, huh?” He smiled, but he was tired, resigned. “Guess we were all kinda stupid.”

“Not stupid,” you corrected. “We just… we wanted it to last.”

And for a while, it had.

For a while, it had felt invincible.

Until it wasn’t.

Kaito didn’t argue. He just nodded, pushing another box toward the door.

You glanced around, taking in the room one last time. The cracked stool where Kaito used to sit when he got too tired standing. The corner of the room where Haru always left his water bottle. The space near the set of drums where Yuuma used to zone out between rehearsals. The spot where you had spent so many late nights rewriting lyrics, surrounded by the sound of your friends messing around, playing half-finished chords, and making stupid jokes.

It was hard to believe that by next week, another band would be standing in this same space.

That this room—your room—would belong to someone else.

“Alright.” You clapped your hands together, forcing a small smile. “Let’s finish up.”

No one argued.

Because there was nothing left to fight for.

So you worked.

Packing up the remnants of what used to be something grand.

-

Touya wasn’t used to asking for things. Not from other people. Not from institutions. Not even from himself.

But here he was, sitting in the suffocatingly sterile office of the university’s administrative staff, pushing down every instinct that told him to just walk out and let things be. He couldn’t let things be.

The chair was stiff. The air was too still. His leg bounced impatiently under the desk, but he forced himself to keep his voice even.

“I’m here about the band that oversees the music club.”

The staff member—a woman who looked about one budget cut away from quitting her job altogether—barely spared him a glance as she shuffled through a stack of papers. “The band that was dissolved?”

Touya clenched his jaw. Yeah. The one I fucked up.

“…Yeah,” he muttered.

The woman sighed, rubbing her temples. “If you’re here to file a complaint, I’ll stop you right now. The rules are clear—without a complete lineup, the band can’t maintain active status, but the club is still available for students who want to learn to play instruments.”

“No, no. I’m not here to join the club,” Touya exhaled slowly, fingers twitching against the fabric of his jeans. “And I’m not filing a complaint about the band,” he said. “I’m fixing it.”

That got her attention. She gave him a once-over, unimpressed. “You’re fixing it?”

“Yes.” His fingers dug into his palm. “Reinstate the band.”

The woman stared at him for a long moment, then let out a dry chuckle. “It’s not that simple, kid.”

Touya hated that. Hated how she dismissed him so easily, like he was just some desperate student throwing a last-minute plea.

But, to be fair, he was desperate. He’s never been this desperate before, but the moment he saw another band in your practice room, he couldn’t leave it as is.

He swallowed back the frustration rising in his throat. “Look, we need a full lineup, right?” He met her gaze evenly. “They’ve got one. I’m playing bass.”

The woman raised an eyebrow. “You?”

Touya nodded.

She tapped her fingers against the desk, considering. “…And this isn’t just some last-ditch effort to get back on a technicality?”

“No. I was just… a little late due to some… personal conflicts.”

She gave him another long look, then sighed, shaking her head. “If the band can prove they’re competition-ready by the end of the month, we’ll consider reinstatement on a probationary basis.”

Touya exhaled, relief flooding his chest. “I’ll take it.”

The woman slid a stack of papers toward him. “Then fill these out.”

-

The first thing Touya did after leaving the office was find you.

It wasn’t hard—because he asked a few students from your department where you usually stayed. The rooftop, they all said.

“What now, Todoroki?” you asked, not even bothering to look at him.

“I was going to play.”

The words were soft. Too soft for him.

Your hand stilled, pausing from rewriting your notes.

Touya let out a slow breath, stepping forward, leaning against the railing a few feet away from you. He didn’t look at you. Just stared out at the view below, where the campus stretched out in the afternoon light.

“I was ready,” he said. “That night. Before the music fest. I had my bass; I was going,” he admitted, shaking his head. “And then my old man showed up.”

Touya rarely talked about his father. Much less to anyone—especially you. You had heard things, of course—whispers, rumors, the kind of stories that floated around when a family name like his carried a reputation. But you never asked. It wasn’t your place.

And your priorities lie elsewhere.

You stayed silent, letting him speak.

“He told me to drop it. Said there was no point. That I was wasting my time.” Touya’s fingers curled slightly against the railing. “And I don’t know why it got to me. I thought I stopped giving a shit a long time ago. But right then, it was like I was a kid again, standing in that room full of trophies that didn’t mean anything to him.”

His voice was quiet. Not bitter, not angry—just honest.

“And I got scared.” His jaw tensed. “Because what if he was right?”

You blinked at him as he turned to face you, though you were quick to avert your gaze.

“What if I was wasting my time?” Touya said more than asked. “What if I walked into that music fest, got on stage, and realized I didn’t have it anymore? What if it wasn’t worth it?”

He got a bit closer to where you sat.

“So I didn’t go.” He glanced up at the sky. “I stayed home. Didn’t answer my phone. Figured it wouldn’t matter anyway.”

You stared at your notes, but the words were starting to blur.

“You were right,” Touya mused after a long pause. “Giving you hope was the worst thing I could’ve done.” He sighed. “You should’ve hit me for that one.”

You finally turned to look at him, and for the first time, he actually met your gaze. His eyes weren’t cold or distant, not laced with sarcasm or carelessness.

They were just… open.

You swallowed and looked back down.

“You used to love it,” you concluded. It wasn’t a question.

Touya gave a slow nod. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I did.”

The wind was the only thing that spoke for a while.

You weren’t sure what you were supposed to say to that. To him.

But…

You could hear it in his voice. The regret. The way he hated himself for it more than anyone else ever could.

That didn’t change much. Your band was still dissolved either way. And you’ve been drowning yourself in your studies to ignore the ache.

But maybe—

Maybe it meant something.

His hands were still in his pockets, his shoulders tense like he wasn’t used to saying things that actually mattered. Like he had already braced himself for whatever you were going to throw at him—anger, disappointment, indifference.

But instead of waiting for you to say anything else, he spoke first.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me.” His voice was steady, quieter than usual. “And I’m not asking you to.”

You blinked, fingers tightening slightly around the edges of your notebook.

He sighed, shifting his weight. “But I talked to the organizers, professors, and staff. The university president, too.” He glanced at you, searching for a reaction, but you just stared, waiting. “The band’s registered again.”

Your breath hitched, barely noticeable—but he caught it.

“As long as you want to have a band,” he continued, his tone more certain now, “it’s yours. I’ll play.” He tilted his head slightly, something almost pleading flickering in his gaze. “I should’ve played from the start. So if you’ll let me, I’ll do it now.”

He was serious.

There was no sarcasm, no deflection, no half-hearted attempt to make it seem like he wasn’t doing something that mattered. He wasn’t trying to be cool or detached.

For once, Todoroki Touya wasn’t running.

“And if I say no?”

Touya smiled slightly, but there was no arrogance in it—just something quiet, maybe even hopeful.

“Then I guess I’ll have to find a way to convince you.”

You looked at him, your knuckles white where they pressed against your closed notebook. The wind picked up, rustling the pages slightly, but you didn’t move. You barely breathed. Forgot to, maybe.

God, you hated him.

You hated how genuine he was being.

But more than anything—

You hated that you wanted to believe him.

“You really think it’s that simple?” you ask. It’s soft this time around.

“No.” Touya’s voice was level, calm. “But it’s a start.”

“You don’t get it.”

“Then tell me. I’ll listen.”

You couldn’t tell him.

Because the truth was, you believed him.

And that was the worst part. You’re too hopeful again, and what if this time around, the damage would be even more severe?

“You don’t have to do this.” Your voice was steady, but underneath it was something raw. “You don’t have to do all of this because you feel bad. Because you suddenly decided it mattered to you again.”

Touya didn’t flinch. He just listened.

You wanted to scream at him. Hit him. Something. Because how dare he stand there so calmly while you were unraveling all over again?

“I believed in you. Even when I knew I shouldn’t have. Even when everyone told me not to.” You had to clasp your hands together and take in a steady breath.

Touya was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, quietly—

“I understand.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do.” His voice was lower this time, more certain. “I know because I did the same damn thing to myself. To be scared of something inevitable, I chose to run.”

That stopped you cold.

This made you realize—

This wasn’t easy for him, either.

The exhaustion in his posture, the way his hands curled into fists in his pockets—

He wasn’t just standing there expecting you to forgive him.

He was waiting for you to tell him no.

Waiting for you to tell him he had lost his last chance. To tell him to stop bothering you.

To leave you alone.

And you should.

God, you should.

But then there was the way he looked at you—

Not with pity. Not with indifference.

But like you were the only person in the world whose opinion could ruin him.

And you had never seen anyone look at you like that before.

-

Practice ran late. Not that anyone was really complaining—well, except for Kaito, who kept muttering about how his fingers were cramping up, but nobody paid him much attention. You were all riding the high of a solid rehearsal, the kind where everything clicked, and even though Touya would never admit it out loud, it felt good.

Really good.

It had been so long since he played in a group like this, since he let himself enjoy it instead of overanalyzing every note.

And then Yuuma, with his usual lack of impulse control, had to break the comfortable silence.

“Okay, but seriously,” he said, spinning a drumstick between his fingers as he leaned against the wall. “How the hell did we get you?”

Touya, who had just been double-checking the tuning pegs on his bass, glanced up with a raised eyebrow. “Huh?”

Kaito grinned. “He’s got a point, man. You’re Todoroki Touya.”

Touya frowned. “Yeah. I know my own name.”

“No, but seriously,” Yuuma insisted, gesturing vaguely. “You’re like—this mysterious, untouchable figure on campus. The guy who doesn’t show up to class half the time but still somehow passes. The guy who sits in the back of the room and barely talks to anyone. And now, suddenly, you’re our bassist?”

Touya exhaled through his nose. “You make it sound like some divine intervention.”

“It is,” Yuuma said, completely serious. Then, without missing a beat—“Do you have a girlfriend?”

…

“What?”

“Yeah,” Kaito snickered. “That would actually explain so much.”

You, on the other hand, were completely distracted with your phone to even pay the boys any attention.

Haru, who had been silently observing the conversation like he was watching a wildlife documentary, finally chimed in. “Are you implying that Touya was bribed into joining the band?”

Yuuma nodded sagely. “Exactly. Like—imagine he’s secretly dating some hardcore musician chick who was like, ‘Touya, babe, you need to do this for me,’ and he just couldn’t say no.”

Touya gave him the flattest look imaginable. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“So you don’t have a girlfriend?” Haru asked, adjusting his glasses.

Touya sighed, already regretting all of his life choices. “No.”

Yuuma snapped his fingers. “Damn. There goes that theory.” Then, after a beat, he turned to you. “By the way, do we have a budget for a talent fee?”

You glanced up. “Huh?”

Yuuma jerked a thumb at Touya. “I mean, we basically landed a celebrity. Should we be paying him or something?”

Touya scoffed. “You can’t afford me.”

Kaito snickered. “Damn, that’s bold.”

“What?” Yuuma grinned. “I’m just saying, we might as well treat him like a high-profile guest artist.”

Touya smirked. “You should be honored.”

“This is dumb,” you laughed.

Yuuma, still grinning, slung his bag over his shoulder. “But for real, you’re actually sticking around this time, right?”

Touya hesitated.

The question felt heavier than it should’ve. Because a few months ago, the answer would’ve been an easy no. Why would I waste my time? This wouldn’t matter.

But now?

He exhaled, shifting his bass case higher on his shoulder.

“…Yeah,” he muttered. “All the way.”

Kaito whooped, slapping him on the back. “Hell yeah.”

Yuuma smirked. “Good. Because if you did bail again, I was fully prepared to start charging you a dropout fee.”

Touya snorted. “You wish.”

You, who had been watching him carefully, finally exhaled and gave him a slight nod. “Then don’t be late tomorrow. Same time.”

Touya smirked. “No promises.”

You gave him a knowing look.

Yuuma grinned. “Alright, then—welcome to the band, officially.”

And for the first time in years, standing there with his new bandmates, feeling the weight of his bass strap across his shoulder and the lingering buzz of rehearsal in his fingertips—

Touya actually felt like he was home.

-

With the recent turn of events, jealousy is an apparent feeling for those who aren’t as privileged to have snagged Todoroki Touya.

And it all started as whispers.

Small, snide comments whenever you walked past the other bands in the music hall. Barely-there smirks, little glances, and the occasional scoff from some second-rate bassist who thought they were so much better because they had never once lost a performance slot.

You ignored them.

You had better things to do. Your band was back, and with Touya as your bassist, things were better and stronger than before. You were making up for lost time, running setlists late into the night, writing new songs, fixing old ones. The fire was back in your chest, the thrill of the stage creeping closer.

But the whispers didn’t stop.

And eventually, they weren’t whispers anymore.

You were passing by the courtyard, Touya trailing half a step behind you, when a group of students—members of another well-known band—let their conversation just slip into earshot.

“She’s lucky, isn’t she?”

“Right? If we had a prodigy like Todoroki, we’d be unstoppable.”

“I mean, let’s be real, he’s the only reason they even got reinstated.”

“I wonder if she realizes how much she’s riding on his talent. Kind of embarrassing if you think about it.”

Your steps faltered, just for a second.

But you didn’t stop.

Didn’t give them the satisfaction of giving them your time.

Touya, though—he did stop.

You had taken another step before you realized he wasn’t beside you anymore. You turned, frowning, just as he stuffed his hands into his pockets and tilted his head at the group, expression unreadable.

“Oh, sorry,” he drawled. “Didn’t realize I had groupies.”

The students stiffened. “What?”

“You’re talking about me like I’m not right here.” His tone was light, almost amused. “That desperate for attention?”

One of them scoffed, recovering quickly. “We’re just saying. It’s obvious [Last Name]’s band wouldn’t stand a chance without you.”

You clenched your fists, but Touya—he laughed.

It wasn’t a friendly laugh.

It was sharp and unimpressed.

“Yeah?” He raised a brow, amusement fading into something colder. “Then why is it that even before I joined, they were the best band on campus?”

The students shifted uncomfortably.

“I mean, that’s what pisses you off, right?” Touya continued, taking a slow step forward. His presence was overwhelming, gaze sharp as he looked them over. “They were already winning before me. [Name] built that band from the ground up, and everyone knew they were the ones to beat.”

No one said anything.

He smirked. “But if it makes you feel better to pretend it’s all me, go ahead. Must be easier than admitting you just suck.”

One of them clenched their jaws. “What’s your deal, man? You don’t even care about bands or competitions.”

Touya rolled his shoulders, casting a glance back at you.

You hadn’t said a word, but he could see it—the way your grip on your bag had tightened, the way your jaw was locked. You weren’t going to defend yourself. 

Which was fine.

Because he would.

“I didn’t care,” he admitted, looking back at them. “Didn’t give a fuck about any of this.” His smirk widened, but his eyes were sharp. 

“But I do now. And you know what I found out?”

The weight of his words sank in, and no one had a response.

“I actually kind of like it,” he hummed. “So try to keep up. Because for the remaining two years, we’ll never lose as long as [Name] and I are onboard.”

With that, he turned back to you, nodding toward the path ahead. “Come on. We’ve got practice.”

You stared at him for a beat longer, then let out a slow breath and walked beside him, leaving the others behind.

They didn’t talk about it and didn't bring it up again.

But as you headed toward the music room, Touya nudged you lightly with his elbow.

“They’re just jealous,” he said, voice quieter now. “You know that, right?”

You exhaled, then, finally, nodded just a little.

“Obviously.”

-

“Alright,” Yuuma had said one afternoon, spinning a drumstick between his fingers, “hypothetically, if you were going to make it up to [Name]—properly, not just half-assed—what would you do?”

Touya, who had been tuning his bass, barely spared him a glance. 

“I already apologized.”

Kaito snorted. “Yeah, and she tolerated it. Barely.”

“Then what do you want me to do? Write her a sonnet?” Touya asked. 

Haru, from where he was perched on top of the amplifier, added, “Not a sonnet. A song.”

“Excuse me?”

Yuuma grinned. “Dude, it’s perfect. She’s all about the band, right? Music’s what she actually gives a damn about. So if you really want her to believe you’re in this for real, show her through music.”

Kaito nodded. “Exactly. Words don’t mean shit to [Name] unless there’s proof behind them.”

Touya frowned, fingers idly running along the strings of his bass.

Writing a song.

It had been years since he’d tried—since he let himself create rather than just play. Back then, his notebooks had been filled with half-finished compositions, lyrics scratched out and rewritten over and over again. He had loved it once.

He was conflicted.

Yuuma clapped him on the shoulder, snapping him out of his thoughts. “You in?”

Touya exhaled sharply. “…Fine.”

Yuuma grinned. “Good answer. It’s sooner or later that you’ll learn that we actually can’t take no for an answer here.”

-

The first problem?

Touya had no idea where to start.

Sure, he knew how to write—he knew chord progressions, rhythms, and structure. But what the hell was he supposed to say?

It wasn’t like he was about to write some sappy, ‘I’m sorry for being an asshole.’

The actual writing process was a disaster in itself.

Yuuma wanted a fast tempo—something that hit hard and kept the energy high.

Kaito argued for something more melodic, something with room to breathe.

Haru, the only one thinking practically, kept reminding them that it had to fit your vocal range.

Touya, meanwhile, wanted to strangle all of them. It’s hard to believe that he and Yuuma were in the same year because the latter acted so childish—so energetic.

It took days of back-and-forth, of testing out different riffs, of scrapping entire verses because they weren’t good enough.

But eventually, they had something.

Something undeniably theirs.

Now all that was left was playing it for her.

-

Practice started like any other day.

You arrived on time, as usual, already flipping through your notebook and mumbling about setlists before anyone could even say a word.

Touya, despite knowing what was about to happen, stayed silent.

It wasn’t his place to introduce this.

It had to be them. All of them.

And, sure enough—

“Actually,” Kaito cut in, casually adjusting his guitar strap, “we’ve got something new to go over today.”

You tilted your head to the side. “What?”

Yuuma grinned. “Surprise.”

“If this is another one of your pranks—”

“It’s not,” Haru assured you. “Just listen.”

You sighed, clearly not in the mood for their antics, but you leaned back against the chair anyway, crossing your arms. “Fine. But if this sucks, we will proceed with the hardest entry as our warmup song.”

Touya smiled. “Noted.”

And then they started playing.

The first few notes were soft, subdued—a simple melody carried by Haru’s keys, the kind of sound that felt like waking up from a long dream. Then the bassline came in, low and steady, grounding everything. Touya’s fingers moved instinctively, muscle memory taking over, like the song had always existed in him, just waiting to be played.

Kaito’s guitar layered over it, bright and sharp, a contrast to the weight of the rhythm section. And then Yuuma’s drums kicked in—fast, insistent, alive.

The song had movement.

Had feeling.

It wasn’t an apology.

It was a promise.

By the time the last chord faded into silence, [Name] was staring.

Not in shock, not in disbelief—

But something Touya couldn’t quite name.

He adjusted the strap on his shoulder, avoiding your gaze. 

“Well?”

“…You wrote this?” you asked.

Touya nodded, feeling strangely exposed. “Yeah.”

There was a long pause, and for a second, he thought maybe this had been a mistake. That maybe you’d say too little, too late.

But then—

“…It’s good,” you told him, laughing quietly. “Is this our entry for the Music Mayhem Event?”

Yuuma grinned. “Hell yeah, it is.”

Touya smiled, nudging at you a little. “So. Does this mean I’m forgiven?”

“I… actually forgave you when you sought me out on the rooftop.”

“Wait, really?:

“Yeah, I— really don’t hold grudges for long.”

Yuuma clapped him on the back. “Dude, that’s so romantic.”

Kaito laughed. “Congrats, man. You got to apologize twice and wrote a song for the competition. Killed two birds with one stone.”

Haru just nodded, satisfied. “Saves us the trouble and time, then.”

Yeah.

Looked like it was.

-

The venue was packed. 

Touya rolled his shoulders, gripping his bass a little tighter than necessary. The strap dug into his shoulder, grounding him, reminding him that this was real. No running this time. No excuses.

You were beside him, your fingers tapping against your mic, an old nervous habit you refused to acknowledge. You exhaled through your nose, a slow, measured breath, but Touya could see it—you were excited. No, more than that—you were ready.

Kaito was tuning his guitar, barely holding back a cocky grin. Yuuma stretched his arms, rolling his neck, hyping himself up under his breath. Haru was calm, adjusting his keyboard settings with precise movements, unreadable as always.

“Make sure your voice doesn’t crack, Todoroki,” you commented.

Touya chuckled. “We’ll see.”

Then the announcer’s voice boomed over the speakers:

“Next up—give it up for—”

The crowd erupted.

Lights flooded the stage, hot and blinding.

And then, it was just them.

-

If you told Todoroki Touya that he’d be playing the bass again after eight years, he would’ve laughed right in your face.

(Mm, yeah, I know how this goes…

You stand in the light, I fade in the smoke…)

He would’ve told you that he didn’t care how good he used to be. He’s lost interest, to put it into simpler terms.

(Didn’t ask you to chase me down—didn’t need another fight…

But there you were, reckless and loud, saying we could get it right…)

He would’ve told you that he had better things to do. 

But now, he did. Touya was playing the bass.

Touya didn’t just play—he felt it. His fingers moved on instinct against the strings, like they had a mind of their own, like he was carving out something raw, something familiar, something that had been trapped inside him for too long.

Then came the pre-chorus. The tension built.

And that’s when he came in.

(Yeah, I left you hanging, left you cold—swore I’d never play that role…

But damn, you still play me like a note…)

His voice was rougher, rasping with emotion, clashing with your smoother tone in a way that shouldn’t have worked—but it did. You turned toward him, stepping closer, your voices winding together like opposing forces caught in the same storm.

And then—

The chorus hit.

(We’re smoke and starlight, burning too bright—

Falling too fast, getting lost in the night!

Say you don’t need me, say you don’t care—

But we both know I’m still hanging there!)

You and Touya met in the middle of the stage, mic stands forgotten. 

You were fire; he was smoke.

Then came the second verse, and it was yours to claim as his voice faded into the background.

(You don’t beg, you don’t plead—

But I hear it in the way you breathe…

Sick of ghosts and dead-end dreams—

But somehow, you still look at me…)

Your gaze caught his. And Touya—he didn’t look away. He looked at you because you were the only one he could see—that he wanted to see.

The music dipped again, shifting into the bridge. Everything stripped back—just the bass and your voice.

(You don’t get to walk away, not this time…

Not after leaving me behind…

You play ghosts, I play fire…

But even flames need something to burn inside…)

The way you sang it—low, steady, sharp as a blade—it sent a shiver down his spine. It tugged at his heartstrings in a way that didn’t feel like him.

Then—

The build.

Drums creeping back in. Guitar humming under the surface. The energy climbing—

And then everything crashed into the final chorus.

(We’re smoke and starlight, burning too bright—

Falling too fast, getting lost in the night!

Say you don’t need me, say you don’t care—

But we both know I’m still hanging there!)

It was undeniable. It was everything.

As the last note hit, ringing through the venue, the whole place seemed to hold its breath.

And then—

The deafening eruption.

Viewers screamed. Hands shot up. The cheers were deafening. Even the judges looked impressed, their quiet conversation lost under the sheer force of the audience’s reaction.

You stood at the front, chest heaving, sweat beading at your temple, but your eyes—your eyes—burned with something victorious.

Touya, gripping his bass, let out a slow breath.

This was it.

For the first time in a long time, he felt it.

Not just the music. Not just the stage.

But the want.

The need.

The need to keep playing.

You had done it.

Done this to him.

And it was only the beginning.

-

Todoroki Touya never thought he’d come to this point.

His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, sweat dripping down his temple, his adrenaline spiking so hard that he could barely stand still. The entire band was high off the energy, voices overlapping as they half-shouted, half-laughed at each other, Yuuma swinging an arm around his shoulders while someone shoved a bottle of water into his hands.

“That was insane!” Your guitarist, Kaito, was saying, practically vibrating with excitement. “Holy shit, did you see how the crowd lost it when we hit that last chorus?”

“Dude, [Name] killed that bridge,” Yuuma added, shaking his head in disbelief. “And Touya? Bro, your bass solo? I felt that in my soul.”

Touya barely registered the words.

Because across the room, you were glowing.

To Touya, you had this look about you, the way you always did after a performance—flushed cheeks, the slight sheen of sweat on your skin making you radiate under the dim backstage lights. You were standing just a few feet away, laughing breathlessly, one hand gripping the back of your neck as you spoke with their events coordinator, your body still thrumming with the rush of the performance.

Touya swallowed.

There was something clawing up his ribs, something tight, something desperate, and before he even realized what he was doing—before he could stop himself—he moved.

His fingers curled around your wrist, firm but not rough, and you barely had time to react before he was pulling you with him, slipping past the others and into the dimly lit hallway behind the stage.

“Hey—Touya, what—?”

You didn’t finish.

Because the second you were out of sight, the second you two were alone, Touya turned, one hand still gripping your wrist, the other lifting without hesitation—

And he kissed you.

It was instinct, thoughtless and reckless, but it felt right.

You went rigid.

For a single, heart-stopping second, you didn’t move, didn’t react—so still that Touya almost panicked. Almost pulled away, almost started to stammer some kind of half-assed explanation, almost—

But then you inhaled sharply, and your fingers curled into his shirt, gripping him like you were trying to ground yourself.

And that was all it took.

Touya’s grip tightened, his palm cupping the side of your face, thumb brushing against your cheek. His lips moved against yours with the feeling of overflowing feelings that are just too good to put into words.

The music, the rush, the way your voice had wrapped around his on stage like you had been made for this, for each other.

Whatever this feeling was, it had been simmering beneath the surface, lingering in the way he always found himself seeking you out, the way he stayed just a little longer after practice, the way you looked at him when you thought he wasn’t paying attention.

And now—now—it was spilling over, like an overfilled cup, impossible to ignore any longer.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless; Touya didn’t move far. His forehead rested against yours, his hand still cradling your face, fingers brushing along your skin.

You were staring at him, wide-eyed, your lips parted in shock, chest still rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath.

“Huh..?”

Touya exhaled sharply, trying to steady his pulse, trying to make sense of the mess in his chest.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, voice rough, strained.

His thumb brushed against your cheek, his breath still mingling with yours, but one thing’s for sure.

“But I think I wanna do it again.”

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[lilacgaby]

CAN I REQUEST A TOUYA FIC IN WHICH HE'S RLY RLY INSECURE AND THEN FINALLY HE CRIES ONE DAY (he has damaged tear glands, remember) AND BLEEDS HIS EYES OUT WHILE CONFESSING THAT HE LIKES US AND HE ACTS LIKE HE HATES US SO THAT WE CAN BE WITH SOMEONE BETTER.

title: better 4 u

pairing: reversecomfort!touya x reader

summary: touya didn't deserve you, he knew there was someone out there better for you.

note: touya makes me so sad :(( like why was he doomed from childhood

as he stared at his scarred face in the mirror, eyeing the roses and chocolates he'd picked out for you, he felt disgusted. he didn't even know how you stood to exist near him, he hated the sight of himself as he passed by puddles, hated the burning on his skin in the rain, even sun would cause him discomfort.

how could you love him if he could barely love himself?

he threw the roses and gift for you on the ground, gripping his head in anger. the sudden noise made you rush to his room and knock on the door.

at the lack of an answer, you still walked in, confused at the items on the ground. "..touya? you okay?"

as he looked at you, he felt small again. he felt judged and he hated it. "go away." he grunted, not looking over at you.

he felt the tears start to accumulate in his eyes, curse his sensitive nature. but you didn't leave, you never seemed to, you walked closer to him and held his hand. his scarred hand stained with blood that would never wash off.

"what's wrong?" how dare you? how dare you make him burst into tears, the blood staining his face and dripping onto the floor as he resisted the urge to start wailing.

his body wracked with sobs as you hugged him close to you. why did you even bother? he was a broken mess.

you led him to sit on his bed, you beside him soothing him, you hadn't said a word yet, waiting for him to speak first. and if he didn't? you wouldn't push it. you never did.

"did something happen?" you asked, rubbing his arm and dabbing at his tears softly.

he shook his head, not trusting his voice right now.

"is it about someone?" he nodded.

"is it about.. me?" his breath hitched and you knew you were right. you brought him closer to you, confused on how you'd upset him.

"yes." he finally said under his breath. "why.. why do you even help me? why are you even with me right now? you could so much better."

you tilted his head up to yours and planted a peck on his lips. "touya, you are the best for me. i love you, not anyone else. don't think that about yourself."

he sniffled, and suddenly felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him.

he didn't feel worthy of your love, but he'd accept it anyway.

"were those flowers on the ground meant for me?"

"...yes."

he knew you loved him in the way you still took care of those wilted flowers and accepted the chocolates that hadn't been on the ground.

he knew you loved him as you held him to sleep and soothed the burning in his skin,

but you set his soul aflame, and he'd love you for that.

[seneon]

hello :3 for the "kiss me until my lips fall off" fanfic, can i request that you make a whole oneshot on the zipping dress part? no. 4 of the post. make it fluff and suggestive hehe. take your time and ty in advance!!

SILKY RIBBONS ──── touya todoroki × fem! reader.

about. he's the man you will always find to zip and tie every of your dresses. quirkless! au. very romantic. wc of 700+

notes. for @rueclfer ♡ this is liek one of my fav requests to write ever. apart of kiss me until my lips fall off.

no matter how formal or informal the occasion, you always wear dresses without fail. especially the silken backless ones with hundreds of strings and ribbons to tie.

with those endless loops that needed to be tied behind you, of course your fingers alone aren't enough for the knots. so you will always find one man and one man alone to lend a helping hand.

today was no different than the other times. there's a party hosted by your friends that you must attend. you're all dolled up beautifully, and as usual, you couldn't do everything by yourself.

you came into the living room where your boyfriend touya is sunken in the soft couch, endlessly scrolling through his phone. his eyes left the screen upon hearing your door knob twist and you walked out.

touya could feel the corner of his lips turning into a tiny smirk at the sight of you in your new black dress that serves as a gift for you from touya himself. he knew you fancied dresses of these kind, and he simply felt the need to get you more and more of them just to see them embrace you.

the instagram reel he was watching kept playing softly in the background as he admired you from head to toe. touya is lying if he tells you his gaze wasn't exactly just the gaze of admiration. it had a hint of leering in them. his turquoise eyes just couldn't leave you in that pretty dress he has gotten for you.

“need help with the ribbons, baby?” the man finally turned his phone off, lightly tossing it aside before he properly sits on the couch as you hummed in response and turned your back to him.

“this dress is so pretty,” you said as you felt his hands resting on your hips, pulling you closer so you now stand between his legs.

“i knew you'd love it. i have immaculate taste, it seems,” his fingers moved to take hold of the ribbons on each side.

touya already knows how all these ribbons, strings and zips work from the amount of times he has to help you with your finishing touches for each different night.

“touya, you know i love every dress you buy for me, right?”

“mhm.”

“why are they all expensive and backless?”

your question elicited a chuckle from your boyfriend before he tightens the first ribbon of your dress. his fingers wrapped around the second ribbon, playing with it a little bit to feel the luxury that drips along the black silk.

“can’t ever go wrong with spoiling my pretty girl, can i?” he ceases the ribbon grazes before lining them out neatly. his fingers are full of perfected skills as usual— working so swiftly to tie the straps that ran across your back into perfect ribbons.

“besides… you look absolutely gorgeous in backless dresses. it's a shame you don't wear them only for me.”

as he uttered those words out, you felt touya pressing his lips on your bare back just below the second ribbon which he already finished tying. his palms held your hip in place before he continued to pepper kisses onto your lower back where the last round of straps hang loose, ready to be tied.

“touya, you're gonna make me late,” you whispered softly, delving in the way his lips were so gentle yet they mean so much more than he portrays.

your words put a pause to his kissing as he pulled away with a sigh, his breath fanned over the skin of your back.

“just wanna appreciate you in this…” touya murmured under his breath and finally decided to tie the last ribbon before his hands spun you around to face him.

“all done baby,” his arms moved to wrap your hips, his eyes gazing right into your own. “you’re so fucking pretty..”

a smile surfaced across your lips as you looked down at him who held onto you like a child. your fingers moved to cup touya's cheeks, thumb immediately moving to caress them in cloud-like touch.

“thank you, my love.”

in response to that, the man simply kissed your stomach, standing up to capture your lips in a kiss. however, he knew you already did your makeup, so he did not indulge in the kiss as much as he wanted to, for touya knew he wouldn't stop the moment he started.

“i’ll pick you up once you're done partying, yeah? have fun there. and.. i’ll be the one who undresses you tonight since i’m the one who got you this dress.”

every ribbons has to come undone, including your own ribbon that touya just simply knows how to untie.

© SENEON 2024 ♱ do not repost, alter, or translate.

[maryaandmorevna]

N.1 Pro hero!Touya who takes an interest in a civilian!you after seeing your anonymous comments on the popular hero forum.

You think he's only gotten so far because his father was Endeavor. You think everything was handed to him on a silver platter. You think he doesn't deserve such admiration from the part of the male fanbase when he's a supposed misogynist. (He was not! The fuck! Fuckin haters!)

You have such a stupid, ignorant opinion of him (who the hell do you think you are?) and you're not afraid to share it around.

So fucking what if he's not winning popularity contests and he's rude to the press? His crime-solving rate rivals his father at the height of the old man's career and he IS the strongest man around. Who are you to criticize him!? Some jobless lard pasted on a couch, most likely.

He decides to track your IP address and find you.

He makes an account and feels just a tad ridiculous for defending himself on a forum. "If you didn't know, hero Touya has the highest efficiency rate when it comes to saving multiple civilians from villain attacks! If you didn't know, hero Touya has trained harder than anyone else to hone his quirks!"

Yes, quirks, because some ignoramus clearly wouldn't know about him almost DYING when he was 13 to get his father to pay attention. It took him nearly perishing in unimaginable pain for his ice quirk to activate.

Through suffering, he had reached what his spoilt, little masterpiece of a brother was born with.

And Shouto was only n.4 now.

Touya goddamn Todoroki was n.1.

But the only response he gets is: " Go suck his privileged dick if you like him so much!"

You deserve to be put in your place for that alone!

So, Touya waits until his agents find you - the stupid anonymous hater.

He imagines you must be some microdicked fan of his brother, or one of those simps who would love for a female hero to overtake his n.1. Spot. Ha. As if.

A spot he bled and cried and burned for.

So what if he fucked a different chick every month, refusing to take his clothes off, and sending them packing the moment he was done?

None of them deserved to parade around with n.1 hero on their arm when they lived in a different world. They wouldn't understand the burn scars on his thighs and belly and what it fucking took to be here.

Touya didn't know what he expected when they informed him his hater had been found but he certainly didn't anticipate you would be so...cute.

You were a woman.

How could he not have realized that?

Touya scoffed.

You were jealous of him. He positively feels gleeful when he logs onto his account, "Fire123", to type away.

"Bet you'd love to do that, you irrelevant wanna-be."

He gets an answer that same night.

"I feel sorry for the poor woman whom he pays to get his nepo baby dick wet. Bet she wishes she could fuck Shouto instead."

The foulness of his glower scares all the sidekicks next morning.

Sorry? Oh, you'll be sorry when he shows up at your doorstep! When he has you fired! When he buys the apartment from your landlord! You'll be groveling little bitch then, he's sure!

[imagineanime2022]

MHA Characters W/ Teen Reader (Platonic)

Dabi X Reader, Keigo Takami X Reader, Tomura Shigaraki X Reader, Kai Chisaki X Reader

Requested: Anon

Request: Heyy, so I was wondering if you could do a teen! Reader with Dabi, Keigo Tomura, and Overhaul platonic, who kind of got taken in by them after being kicked out of the house and now see them as father figures? Tyy

Warning: Neglect, Homelessness, Abuse (emotional mostly), Kidnapping, Stockholm Syndrome???

*Part 2*

Dabi

🔥 The first time that Dabi saw you, you were left at the park because your parents had forgotten you, he remembered watching as you looked around helplessly, you were 5 at the time, eventually they realised and came back for you. 🔥 The second time he saw you, you were sitting on your own while your parents fawned over your younger sibling, cooing and asking them to show off their quirk, that was the first time that Dabi spoke to you. 🔥 The third time he saw you, you were actually looking for him, your parents again had left you to your own devices, they didn’t notice when you wandered over to the skate park attached and found him loitering in the corner, where you spent the whole time. 🔥 The time that you finally decided to go with Dabi, he had offered a few times, telling you that your parents were never going to appreciate you the way that you wanted and you were better off forgetting them, but you finally took him up on the offer when they told you that you were never going to be anything them considering your weak quirk. 🔥 Dabi doesn’t actually know what it was that possessed him to take in a child, maybe it was what your parents said, maybe it was the quirk you had or maybe it was just that you reminded him of himself and decided to give you a chance. 🔥 Your quirk allowed you to put things in a pocket dimension that only you could access, you unfortunately could only extend that to inanimate objects which was why your parents thought that it was useless, however people became inanimate after they had stopped breathing. 🔥 Dabi at first thought that he’d be over it in a couple of months but the more that he taught and the more time that you spent together, he found it harder and harder to walk away from you. 🔥 You hide a number of weapons in your dimension, as well as anything that you stole, cherished or straight up just didn’t want to carry. 🔥 Dabi never said anything but he definitely kept an eye on you when you interacted with anyone that he didn’t trust. 🔥 “Kid, be more careful, I know that you can take care of yourself but no one around here is worth the trouble that would cause.”

Keigo Takami

🪶 Keigo found you on a rescue mission, they had actually come looking for all of your family but you were the only one that arrived in time to save. 🪶 He assumed that they wanted to sell you given the fact that your quirk mirrored the abilities of a Gorgon, one look and you could turn someone to stone, when he got there he attempted to take the blindfold and you fought him before telling him that he couldn’t he’d be a statue. 🪶 After taking you back, the doctors and nurses quickly found that you wouldn’t talk to anyone and as a last ditch effort they brought Hawks back in. 🪶 Turns out that given the fact that he was the one that saved you, he was the only one that you trusted enough to talk to. The commission decided that you would live with him until they felt that you were ready to re-enter society (become the same type of hero he was). 🪶 On your first birthday with him, he got someone to make you a pair of glasses that allowed you to see the world without turning people to stone, he had honestly never been so happy. 🪶 He remembered at the end of the day he asked what your favourite colour was and you told him it was the red of his wings. 🪶 He took you shopping for the first time and if you get easily overwhelmed then you might fight that his earphones end up over your ears to help you filter out unnecessary noise while you chose some new clothes. 🪶 Given the fact that some hawks eat snakes, his more animal instincts weren’t all for the idea of you having a pet snake but given the fact that your quirk gave you an affinity for them he found a way to get over it. 🪶 He remembers the day that you became more like father and child, he came home completely exhausted but tried to keep smiling and you reminded him of something that he said to you. 🪶 “Sometimes it’s braver to not be okay, kid, I save you every time.”

Tomura Shigaraki

🤚 Neither of you really know how it happened given the fact that Shigaraki usually kills everything without a second thought, he recognises that he probably should when you wander into the bar. 🤚 The first thing he asked was where your parents were and your answer ade his blood boil. They had thrown you out because your quirk manifested and they really weren’t a fan. 🤚 That was when he asked what your quirk was and you asked him for something that he didn’t care about being broken, you then showed him your quirk molecular combustion, much like him you had a deadly touch. 🤚 At first it was agreed that you would be a good asset and that was the end of it, however as you grew up with him he became more attached. 🤚 You make him realise how messy he is, when he walks around complaining about something only for you and Kurogiri to tell him that he was the one that was responsible. 🤚 Teaches you how to fight and defend yourself as well as controlling your quirk and by the time that you were 15 you were his most trusted ally, if only because he had basically raised you himself. 🤚 You are literally the only person that is allowed to touch him and considering both your quirks it confuses everyone that knows you. 🤚 If you want to go back and make your parents pay for the way that they treated you, he won’t stop you in most cases he’d probably encourage the behaviour. 🤚 You guys are very rarely apart, he didn’t actually like having you out of his sight, you’ve been around for 10 years and even suggesting that you could go undercover triggers him, because you aren’t disposable. 🤚 “You're worth more than the moves you make, you're an SSR character.”

Kai Chisaki

💉 Kai had no intention of having a child anywhere near him, but you were worth it considering his particular ailment. 💉 When he first met you, you were only young, your quirk having just manifested, he saw you on the street as you walked over to a man, seemingly homeless and very ill, you looked over him for a second before closing your fist and opening it again to pass over a pill, the man was better in seconds. 💉 When Kai came over he crouched in front of you, you twisted your head looking at him for a second before putting your hand out another pill in your hand. 💉 Despite the fact that you were 5 you seemed unable to talk but you understood him he asked about your parents and you shook your head. 💉 Kai figured that you were intriguing enough that he would deal with the consequences if this turned out to be more of a kidnapping. 💉 Kai liked having you around. You told him if he should avoid something and even knew that he didn’t like being touched. He found that your quirk allowed you to see and then decelerate or accelerate an illness. 💉 If he wanted something from someone he could change their body to create an illness that you could manipulate the illness 90% of the time guaranteeing your success. 💉 He’d never outwardly tell you that he liked having you around or that he thought of you as one of his own, instead he would protect you, defend you and make sure that you are provided for. 💉 Definitely taught you basic academics and when you showed an interest in medicine (surprise surprise) he was more than happy to teach you. 💉 “Well done, you're not completely useless.”

Request Here!!

[shigarakisdumbwhore]

League of Villains in A Relationship with You

sooo this Wednesday I'm posting a LOV headcannon featuring Shigaraki, Dabi, Toga, Spinner, Twice, and Mr. Compress. here's a little sneak peak 👀

POSTED NOW

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_______________________________________________

Shigaraki

I hate everyone but you trope

possessive

affectionate in a nonchalant way

Dabi

very clingy but acts like he's not

denies anything about being jealous or clingy of you though

is very afraid of losing you

is pretty insecure behind the scenes

Twice

very affectionate with words

makes sure to remind you all the time that he loves you A LOT

cute little notes and gifts left behind for you to find

[mika-writes-fanfics]

Dabi x reader with chronic pain

Tags/Warnings: chronic pain, slight angst with comfort, fluff, soft Dabi, established relationship

Author's note: Having a bad pain day and I was thinking about what Dabi would do seeing the one he loves in pain.

Word count: ~650

It’s kind of embarrassing, truthfully, how something so small can piss you off today. It’s not even a big deal, more like an insignificant annoyance in the grand scheme of things. Still, you find yourself groaning in agitation. All the minor inconveniences you experience every day just seem so overwhelming right now, with the constant background pain that seems to be ramping up as time passes on. 

“What’s got you in such a sour mood, Princess?” Dabi teases with his usual cocky smirk. You turn around to face him, finding him in the window of your bedroom. You’re a bit surprised to see him. Not that he doesn’t usually enter your home through the fire escape, but because you weren’t expecting him. Especially not on a day like this. 

Unlike most other times, where you either respond to his playful jabs with one of your own, or instead vent it all out with passionate ranting, your expression communicates a sort of exhaustion he’s not used to seeing on you. You don’t seem sluggish from a lack of sleep, rather, it’s as if you’re out of energy to deal with anything. You’re tired from the demands placed on you, your pain eating away at any mental energy you have left. His face falls upon realizing something is genuinely wrong. He knows he can be an ass sometimes, but seeing you look so despondant has him regretting his choice of words. 

“Sorry, I’m just… in a lot more pain that usual today,” you force out. The tone of your voice makes it clear just how much this is weighing on you. Putting up a cheerful facade is too much to bear. You’ve mention in passing how you have chronic pain. It always follows you, remaining as a cemented constant. You’ve made it a point to not bring it up much. Knowing what Dabi experienced just made you view your discomfort as something so miniscule, something not deserving of concern. So you’ve always tried to hide it. It’s worked in the past, and conveniently, he seems to be busy in the times that your pain ramps up. Today is the first times he’s really been around for days like this. “I don’t want to bum you out so if you wanna leave, I understand-”

“No,” he denies, cutting you off. He knows what its like, to be constantly haunted by life’s cruelty. The scars on his skin tell his story whenever he has the misfortune of seeing them, whereas your aches shouts your story. You both carry unavoidable mementos of pain. You’ve done more than you think in bearing his pain. You’ve listened to his recounts of his past, patched him up when he’s come home to you after a mission gone south, and unknowingly held onto him when his thoughts were darkest. He wants to return the favor, in any way he can. “I’m not going anywhere.” He climbs down from the spot on the widow sill and closes the window behind him. He kicks off his boots and lays on your bed, gesturing for you to lay with him by opening his arms. 

You sigh, before saying in a tired and stressed voice, “I can’t Dabi, I gotta clean and then-”

“I’ll take care of it later, c’mere,” he urges. You don’t have the energy to fight him, so you acquiesce. Not to mention, you’ve been dying to just lie in your bed. Dabi being in it is a added benefit you don’t want to pass up. You curl up to his side and rest your head upon his chest. “Where are you hurting?”

You point to the area. In a rare moment of softness from him, he gently traces over the aching part of your body. It’s not a cure for your pain by any means, but the gentle touches both give you something else to focus on and melts your frozen heart. “Thank you,” you meekly whisper and nuzzle closer against him.

“Don’t mention it,” he replies. “Anything for you.”

[asirensrage]

“IF THEY TOUCH YOU, ILL KILL THEM. ITS THAT SIMPLE.” FOR MY ANGEL BABY BOY DABI.

OKAY! Um...fair warning, I've only written like him having one convo so far with Sayuri in her fic. This was much longer ahahah. I don't think he is, but if he's out of character, I'm sorry lol.

Rating: Mature

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Pairing: Dabi x Unnamed/Undescribed Female OC

Warnings: Violence. Arson. Stalking. Attempted murder. Threats. Obsession. Dark!fic. Unbeta'd

Notes: My first real foray into writing Dabi. At least one that I'm sharing for now lol. Please let me know what you think! I listened to Gorgeous Nightmare by Escape the Fate while I wrote this. Also, I wrote this tonight and posted it after reading it over like...once or twice. So...fair warning I guess. HEED THE WARNINGS.

It happened fast. 

One moment she was buying a coffee, half dreading the night shift that awaited her at the city call centre, and the next…the windows shattered and she was being shoved back behind a counter praying that whoever was fighting wasn’t going to take down the building she was in. 

The staff were hunkered down, looking unimpressed and resigned to the fate that awaited them. She peeked over the counter, hearing laughter and feeling the heat as flames seemed to flash down the street in front of them. She paused there for a moment before she shook her head. “Nope, we have to get out of here.” She looked over at the staff, “Is there a back exit? Even if they don’t knock the place down, it’s already starting to catch on fire. Let’s go.” 

She doesn’t get far. 

She’s not a hero, but most of the staff in the place with her are teens and the manager is nowhere in sight so she makes sure they get out first. “Just go home,” she tells them. “No point in staying here.” 

They don’t need to be told twice. Still, that leaves her in an alley alone as she tries to figure out how she’s going to get home. The way she usually takes is blocked by whatever is going on. She briefly considers trying to get to the roof and see if she can jump enough of them to get her some space from the fighting. 

The ground shakes and she looks towards the street. A figure in black walks into her view, she can’t make out what he says, but his voice is a bit rough and he sounds like he’s having a good time despite the destruction. He looks down the alley. Her gaze meets his. It’s enough of a warning that she takes her chance with the roof. Her quirk makes her just fast enough to avoid the blue fire that comes barrelling towards her. She doesn’t stick around to find out what happens next. 

Being an operator in City Services pays well, but it’s not uncommon for people to call and act like it’s a sex hotline. Especially on the night shift. She’s had a lot of strange people over the year that she’s been here and while some are automatically flagged and blocked, some get through. It’s usually not too bad, people are just lonely. Mostly the elderly. 

“Thank you for calling, how can I direct your call?”

There’s a moment of silence but occasionally there are lags in the connection so she waits. 

“Yeah,” the voice says. It doesn’t sound elderly but it is a male voice and she distracts herself slightly by playing her usual game of trying to guess what they’re calling about. “There’s a villain attack. Someone set a fire.” 

“What area are you calling from?” She pulls up the list of contacts for emergency services and heroes. 

More silence. “You really want to know?”

She frowns slightly. “I need to know the area of concern so I can connect you to the right people.” 

“And if I want to talk to you?” 

She sighs. “Sir, if you have the time to flirt, then it’s not an emergency and I can direct your call to a sex line instead.” 

He laughs at that. It’s weirdly familiar and the hair on the back of her neck prickles at the sound. “North of the river. If they hurry, they’ll see it.” 

It’s not a lot of information, but unless someone is complaining about a neighbour or a pothole, she doesn’t usually get a lot. She sends the request through, hoping that emergency services will have received more calls to pinpoint the location. “Sir, next time there’s an emergency, call the emergency line, okay?”

“Is this not?”

“No, this is the City Services.”

“And if I’m in need of a service?” 

She’s heard that line before. “Goodbye, sir.” She redirects the call to the nearest sex hotline and closes it. She sighs and tries to crack her back as she stretches. “Got my first sex call of the night,” she says, leaning to look at her coworker. 

“Already?”

She shrugs. “Maybe it’s a full moon.” 

He keeps calling. 

Sometimes it’s to tell her of a fire, sometimes it’s something as innocuous as a broken window or streetlamp. She’s not entirely sure why he keeps calling and she’s starting to suspect that he’s causing some of the issues he calls about. She still can’t place why he sounds familiar but she ignores it. Until her coworker tells her that he’s on hold. For her. 

“Why can’t you take the call?”

“He refuses,” her coworker says. “Only wants to talk to you.” 

That’s a bad sign. The two of them share a look. “I’ll tell security,” they say before placing themselves on standby and leaving their desk.

 It’s just her and the red flashing light signalling a call on hold. She adjusts her headset, takes a deep breath and tries to squash her nerves down before pressing it. 

“City Services, how can I direct your call?”

 “There you are,” his voice sounds in her ears. “You hiding from me?”

“Sir, I already told you, this is dispatch. If you want the sex line, you should know the number by now.” 

“I know who I’m calling.” Fear sits heavy in her stomach at his words. He means the number. That’s all. 

“Any one of my colleagues can help you. What’s the matter now?” 

“Don’t want to talk to them, I want to talk to you.” 

She bites back the desire to ask why. “Are you destroying more property?”

“What makes you think it’s me?” She can hear the grin in his voice. 

“A wild guess,” she says dryly. “If you have nothing to report, this conversation is done.”  

“I have something to report,” he cuts in. “You’ll want to hear it.” He pauses and she waits for him to continue. When he doesn’t say anything, she rolls her eyes and starts trying to connect the call to emergency services so they can trace it. “That coffee shop you like to go to is on fire. Or it will be. Want to stop it?”

Her heart stops. “What?” 

“Don’t you want to play hero?” 

She hangs up. As soon as she does, she knows it was a bad idea. They can’t trace anything but the call is recorded and she sends off a warning to the closest hero agency and emergency services. Her coworker arrives with security in tow. They stop at the sight of her. 

“Are you okay? What happened?” 

“I think…” she swallows tightly. “We have a problem.” 

She’s put on leave. 

The coffee shop is destroyed and she knows it’s because she hung up on him. City Services sent her with paid time off, compensation for the fact that she’s accumulated a stalker because of the job. It leaves her with far too much time on her hands. Too much time to think about how it all happened. 

She’s nothing special. She doesn’t have a fancy or expressive quirk. Her voice isn’t cute. She works at a glorified call centre. There’s no real reason for some delinquent to want to follow her. It leaves her unsettled, even in her curiosity. 

Nothing happens for a week and then two. It eases the tension and the fact that she’s started searching for a new job helps. She doesn’t think she wants to go back to City Services, no matter how well it pays. 

When she puts in her notice, her friends drag her out to celebrate. She doesn’t know what the man who called her looks like and despite the fact that she hasn’t heard anything in weeks, she can’t help but look at the men in the bar. Her friends stay at her side until the night continues, the drinks keep flowing and eventually, she finds herself at the bar alone as her friends dance. 

She considers going home but before she can signal to her friends that she’s leaving, someone appears next to her. She stiffens as they lean close. 

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” Something relaxes at the sound of his voice. It’s higher than the man who would call her. 

“Sure,” she says. “Excuse me.” She moves to walk away and a hand grabs her wrist. 

“I gave you a compliment.” 

“And?” She frowns. “Let go of me.” 

“We’re just talking.”

A hand grabs his wrist and she can see it tighten and smoke. “She said let go.” The man screams, yanking his hand back and looking at the newcomer in fear. He scrambled backward, knocking others over as he runs. 

She looks at the man. His hair is dark and she can make out the scars on his face. She’s not sure if he’s covered in piercings that glint in the light or if it’s something else. He grins as her eyes meet his. 

“Thanks,” she says. 

“You’re welcome, princess.” He leans in towards her. “Missed me?” 

Her stomach drops. “No,” she shakes her head, taking a step back. 

He grabs her hand before she can retreat. “Come on, I’m being nice. You want me to be mean instead?” He holds up his other hand. Blue flames flicker on his fingers and she’s suddenly pulled back to that coffee shop and alleyway. He nearly killed her. 

“What–”

He doesn’t give her a chance to continue, turning for the door and pulling her to follow. She glances back at her friends. One of them notices and grabs the other but she waves them back. She knows the destruction he’s capable of. She won’t have them be a casualty.

They stop when they’re finally outside and he ushers her into the alley next to the bar. It’s not exactly clean but she’s more concerned with the man who moves her until her back is against the wall. His hand is still on her wrist but his other one cups her jaw, thumb brushing against her cheek. 

“Why are you doing this?” 

His eyes meet hers and for a moment she’s surprised at how blue they are, even in the dark. They weren’t piercings. There were staples on the border of clear skin and scar tissue. She could see it now. “I was always going to find you,” he tells her. “It was inevitable since the alley.”

“You almost killed me,” she shoves him back. 

He grins. “Any slower and I would have. There’s not many who can outrun my fire.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t torch the innocent,” she snarls back. His grip tightens before his lips are suddenly on hers. It’s unlike any other kiss she’s had. The difference in texture between his lips is all she can focus on until he bites at her bottom lip. He takes advantage of her gasp and deepens the kiss. It’s hard and demanding and all she can think about. His hand leaves her wrist, curling around her back to press her closer to him. 

“Fucking love that attitude,” he mutters against her lips. She’s not sure if she was supposed to hear it. He kisses her again. 

She breaks it, pulling her mouth from his. He doesn’t stop, laying kisses against her cheek and her throat before they turn into his teeth dragging against her skin before he sucks a mark into it. 

“Wait,” she says, trying to push him off. He complies, just enough to look at her. His body is still pressing hers against the wall. “I don’t understand. Why are you stalking me?”

He looks at her from under the hair that falls in his eyes. “Because you’re mine,” he says with complete confidence. It’s enough to remind her that the man in front of her is insane, no matter how well he kisses. 

She shakes her head. “No, that’s not…you can’t just decide that.”

“You still haven’t realized it, have you?”

“What?”

“I’m a villain, princess.” He bends his head, lips brushing against her cheek. She wonders if he can hear the way her heart feels like it’s going to beat out of her chest. “I get what I want.” 

“Is that what you did in there?” she asks, nodding back the way they came. “With the guy.” Heat flares around them and disappears just as quickly. 

“I was making a point.” 

“Yeah? What point is that?”

“A warning sign to everyone else. If they touch you, I’ll kill them. It’s that simple.” 

He will too. He could have killed her in an alleyway and she was a bystander. It’s not like he isn’t completely focused on achieving what he wants. She learned that from how he found her at her work, how he kept calling to talk to her until she left. He must have known. Otherwise, why would he be here tonight? 

“What…what does that mean for me?” 

“Princess, we’re forever. I’m taking you with me.” He kisses her again, it’s almost chaste in comparison to the previous ones. “Don’t worry, I can make it worth your while.”

“I don’t get a choice?”

“Sure,” he shrugs and steps back. “You can have a choice. You can leave, go back to your friends and your empty life or you can come with me.” He presses a hand against the wall near her head. “Might not like what happens after though if you go.” Flames dance from his hand against the brick. “I’ll have to find a way to entertain myself.”

Her eyes narrow. “That’s not a choice.”

“It is, just not a fair one. Not to you.” He points at himself with his free hand. “Villain, remember?” He grins at her and pulls his hand away from the wall. “So what’s it gonna be?” 

There isn’t a choice. Not one that doesn’t end in destruction and mass casualties… Fine.  “I’ll go with you.” 

He grins at her like he already knows what she’s thinking. “Smart choice.” He throws an arm over her shoulders and leads her out of the alley. 

She can play this game if she has to. At least long enough to get him away from the city. Afterwards, well…he’s already admitted she’s faster than he expected. She’ll see if he’ll be able to keep up. She doubts it. 

prompt from Obsession Prompts

taglist: @raith-way @arrthurpendragon @veetlegeuse @chickensarentcheap @residentdormouse @endless-oc-creations  @stanshollaand @wordspin-shares @chrissymunson

and @burnincrown 😉

[lilchibi-chan]

𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥

Dabi x Black Fem! Reader one shot

𝖳𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝖦𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝖫𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖦𝗂𝗋𝗅 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖠𝖽𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝖳𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖥𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺 & 𝖢𝖺𝗄𝖾. 𝖨 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖾𝗋𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗅𝗒𝗋𝗂𝖼 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖨’𝗆 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝖻𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖾𝗆𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝖣𝖺𝖻𝗂. 𝖨𝖽𝗄 𝗂𝖿 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖨’𝗆 𝗌𝗈��𝗋𝗒. 𝖨 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝖨’𝗆 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾’𝗌 𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗌, 𝖨 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝗈𝗉𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝗂𝖽, 𝗌𝗈 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝖨’𝗆 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝗂𝖿 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌. 18+ 𝖺𝗎𝖽𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒

Contains: dominant dabi, attitude/talking back, teasing from reader and Dabi, slight choking, spanking,praising and cuddles

You and Dabi have a very flirtatious relationship. Always teasing each other, purposely doing something that would get on the other ones nerves or make them jealous, not in a bad way, but just enough to make the other person a little uncomfortable.

It’s been a while since you’ve actually teased him and made him jealous, so today you decided to be a little bit of an asshole.

You two were gonna be heading into the city to do some shopping, so you decide to dress cute and wear a lacy, black corset top with a pleated mini skirt. You pull out an oversized zip-up hoodie and some platform boots.

You leave your hair down, natural curls draping your shoulders.

You wake Dabi up and tell him to get in the shower, so that you can head out.

After he gets out, you decide to head towards the bathroom and open the door. He has a towel wrapped lowly around his waist, his hair is wet and wavy.

You eye him up and down and he watches your lust filled eyes as they scan his body.

“Like what you see, little one,” he asks

You walk over to him slowly and close the distance between you both. Your lips now barely touching.

“Depends,” you start,“is there something to look at”

You move your face away from him and start to walk away.

Then, you remember that the perfume that Dabi loves the scent of is in the bathroom. You turn around and open the medicine cabinet, reaching for the perfume.

You spray your wrists, neck, behind your knees and over your hair. As you’re about to put it away, you fumble the cap of it and it ends up on the floor in front of him.

You bend down facing him, then come up slow, your body slightly caressing his. You put the cap on the perfume and put it back in it’s original place. After this, you leave the bathroom and Dabi watches after you not sure what to think of what just happened.

You walk away feeling proud of yourself and wonder how far you can take it while out in public.

You finally make it to the mall and you decide you wanna go to forever 21 first just to see what they have. Sometimes it’s a hit and sometimes it’s a miss, but you still like to see what’s inside.

You found a couple of pleated skirts that you liked and some shirts with short puffy sleeves that you can wear on or off the shoulder, as well as some spring/summer dresses.

“I wanna go try these on,” you tell him

“Okay, I’ll wait outside. Come over when you’re finished,” he says starting to walk away

“Dabiiiii, come with me,” you say pouting and staring at him with pleading eyes

“You’re not gonna stop until I go with you, are you,” he says

“No,” you say still pouting

He rolls his eyes and gives into you

Although, he acts like he’s annoyed, you’re very important to him and he knows he’s not the best choice, but you still choose him over anyone else. He doesn’t want to mess anything up between you two, so he tries his best to keep you happy. It’s in his own way, but he still tries.

You head into the dressing room and start getting ready to try on the clothes, when a thought crosses your mind.

You picked up a silk slip dress that has a low back.

You take the dress off of the hanger and slip it on.

Dabi was sitting on the bench outside of your dressing room and you knew this would get a reaction out of him.

“Babe, I’m ready to show you the first outfit,” you say, then open the door of the dressing room

He looks up and sees your dress and you notice a glint in his eye.

You stand there biting your lip

“What do you think,” you ask flirtatiously

He stands up and walks over to where you’re standing and looks down at you. He smirks.

“And where are you wearing this little number,”he asks, cupping your face in his hand

“Wherever I feel like,” you retort

“Mm” is all he says

He caresses your spine with a few fingers and slowly moves closer to your bum.

“Something wrong baby,” you ask smirking

“Not at all, darling” he says

He notices a guy, that was also there with his girlfriend, staring at you. Looking you up and down.

He walks over and grabs the guy by his shirt.

“If you wanna keep your eyes, I suggest you stop looking at my girl,” he says, his hand aflame

“Babe, stop. You’re gonna get us kicked out,” you say worried

He looks at you, then back to the guy. He throws him back on the bench and you go gather your stuff from the fitting room and get dressed.

You pay for your items and leave the store.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you say with a slight attitude

“He was asking for it,” Dabi says nonchalantly

“So what? You’re gonna do that to every guy that stares at me,” you ask

He stays quiet and smirks.

“Dabi sometimes-ugh,” you say and start walking ahead

He does a small run and catches up to you. He softly grasps your hand.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’ll try to be better,” he says sincerely

He pulls you close to him and kisses your forehead. He moves down to your lips and kisses you slow and passionately. He slips his tongue to your bottom lip to gain entrance to your mouth. You make out for a couple seconds and then pull away.

“That’s all you get,” you say

He stands there, taken aback

“Wha-why,” he says

“Punishment for what you did,” you say then turn and walk away

You don’t hear footsteps behind you.

“C’mon I’m hungry,” you say, still not facing him

When you make it to a restaurant and get greeted by the host. You get seated immediately at a corner table.

“Hey folks, how are we doing today,” the waiter says

“Good,” you say with a smile

“Yeah, fine,” Dabi says, already slightly annoyed

You notice the waiter’s eyes keep coming back to you in a flirtatious manner and decide you want to have a bit more fun.

“Here are your menus,” he says, handing Dabi his first and then handing you yours, making sure your hands brushed

“I’ll give you both some time to decide,” the waiter says, then walks away

You can feel Dabi’s eyes on you, but decide to ignore him.

“Did you decide what you’re gonna get,” he asks coolly

“Yeah, I’ll call the waiter back over,” you say

You put a hand up catching his attention.

“You ready to order gorgeous,” he asks with a flirty smile

“Yeah,” you say, leaning forward and crossing your arms under your chest and propping them up on the table

“Y’know, I actually couldn’t decide on a drink, so what do you recommend,” you say, then put a hand to your neck

He leans down and gets closer to you.

Dabi leans back in his chair and stretches his legs, then cocks his head to the side and rests it on his hand.

You can tell he’s getting annoyed and it doesn’t help that you can feel the heat radiating from his body, but you can tell he’s trying to keep it inside.

Your waiter stands back up straight and turns his attention to Dabi.

“And for you sir,” he says

“Don’t worry about me. Just make sure she gets whatever she wants,” Dabi says

He leaves the table and puts in your order.

Your food and drink come out a couple of minutes later.

“You want some babe? You haven’t eaten all day,” you ask in your sweetest voice

“No little one, I’m okay. You eat,” he says calmly

“O-okay,” you say

You finish your food and head home. On the way there you try to make conversation with Dabi, but he’s only been giving you one word answers or noises as answers. You start to feel bad and think you went a bit overboard with the teasing.

You unlock the door to the apartment and enter, Dabi right behind you. You turn and lock the door.

When you turn back around, Dabi has a fire and hunger in his eyes. This is the moment you knew…you fucked up.

He puts a hand around your neck and pushes you against the door. He squeezes softly and leans down to your ear.

“Good little girl…always picking a fight with me,” he growls

He lifts you up against the door by your legs in a swift motion. He slips a hand under your skirt and goes between your legs to where your panties are covering you. He slips two fingers under the fabric, holds it in his hand and rips it.

A gasp escapes your lips.

“Those were my favorite,” you say a little sad

He lets out a low chuckle

“You really think I give a fuck about that right now,” he says,“You’re gonna learn what happens when you push me to the extent that you did today”

He carries you down the hall and into the kitchen and puts you down so that you’re standing. He turns you around and bends you over the kitchen counter, both wrists being bound by one of his hands. He lifts your skirt and removes the rest of the fabric from your mangled undergarment. Then, blasts it into thin air and it becomes nonexistent.

He spanks you on your right cheek six times, each a bit harder than the last. Then repeats it on the left.

He takes a couple fingers and runs them along the slit of your lips, slow and lingering touches. He puts his fingers between them to feel the slickness that has started forming between your legs, but never enters you.

“Ohhh look at you, already getting so worked up. We’ve only just begun darling,”he says, then hovers over you to whisper in your ear

“I’m gonna make you ache and beg until you can’t take it anymore. Make you pant and whine until the only thing escaping that pretty mouth of yours is you either only sputtering nonsense or my name.”

He grabs a fistful of your hair and guides you to the bedroom. He throws you onto the bed and you turn on your back to face him. He takes off your skirt and flings it across the room behind him and does the same with the rest of your clothes. You are now laying there completely naked and feeling strangely vulnerable as he stares at you. The way an animal looks at its prey before it gets devoured.

You wanted to cover up, but you were too scared to even move.

Dabi goes to the closet and pulls out a leather case. He rummages through it a little and finds what he’s looking.

He approaches the bed with rope, blindfold and a flogger in hand.

“Sit up,” he commands in a low tone

He places the blindfold over your eyes and ties it tight enough that it won’t fall.

“Lay down, arms at your side, legs spread,” he says in your ear after fastening the blindfold

You scoot up on the bed and do as he says, laying flat on your back.

“Alright princess, time to teach you your lesson.”

He goes to the right side of the bed and ties one side of the rope to the bed and the other to your wrist. Then goes down to your ankle and repeats the same process. He moves to the other side and does as he had before.

With the flogger in hand, he runs it up your right leg slowly, then over your lips, moving up to your stomach and the valley of your breasts. He then touches the flogger to your already hard nipples. Teasing you. Your toes start to curl, as your sensations feel heightened, due to your lack of sight.

He moves the flogger down your body again and lightly taps your pussy, the throbbing in your core growing.

A small whimper escapes your mouth.

“Aww how’s my angel? Is she feeling a bit needy,” he taunts

He takes his middle and ring finger and enters you deeply, keeping them there to feel your warmth.

“What a needy and wet little cunt you have. Throbbing and slicking, just waiting to be ravaged. Your time will come, just not as soon as you may hope for,” he says

You feel the mattress sink, notifying you that he’s coming onto the bed.

You feel him hover over you and get closer. Your lips just centimeters apart from his.

He places a soft kiss on your mouth and moves down your jaw and neck gingerly placing small pecks, stopping above your chest. He rolls your nipples between his thumb and index fingers. You feel them ache as they get harder and this causes you to arch your back slightly. Another moan escapes your mouth.

He takes your right nipple into his mouth, biting it gently. His hand works on your other nipple, still squeezing and rolling it in his fingers. Then massaging your breast.

He moves his hand down to your cunt and places two fingers on clit, making small, calculating circles before moving down to your folds, just teasing them. You arch your back again and feel yourself getting needier as the slow movements of his hands bring you closer to the edge.

“D-Dabi p-please,” you squeak out

He continues teasing your clit and your folds, taking his mouth away from your nipple. The cold air biting it as the warmth of his mouth and lips leave you.

You feel him get off the bed.

He goes to each side of the bed and unbinds your limbs from it. He removes the rope from your ankles, but it remains on your wrists.

“Legs up, hands above your head,” he says

Again, you do as you’re told.

You start to feel warmth on your folds and that all too familiar feeling of his mouth and tongue. His tongue slipping up and down, entering you at times.

“Mmh you always taste like the sweetest honey, but today, you’re especially sweet. Even more so with those eager moans coming out of your mouth.”

He goes back to devouring your sweet taste and takes his thumb to tease your ass. He makes small circles as he had done to your clit, the combination of your juices and his spit making it all the more edging.

“Dabi, please just fuck me,” you say breathlessly desperate

“Oh yeah,” he taunts,“how bad do you want it? Tell me.”

“Dabi, p-please…I need you to-,” you get cut off by a moan

“Pl-please Dabi, I need you. Please,” you say

“Okay little one,” he says, then kisses your cheek,“Now keep this hands above your head.”

He teases your center with his tip and you grind your hips to feel more of him. He chuckles a bit, then slowly slides into you. A low, guttural moan exits his mouth and he hangs his head. He removes the blindfold from your eyes and your hands stay bound to each other above your head.

You blink, giving your eyes time to adjust to the room.

He places a hand on your jaw, so you can face him.

“I want you to look me in the eyes as I pound into you,” he says, staring into your eyes as if he’s talking to your soul

You bite your lip as his strokes start slow, hitting you deeper each time. The room is filled with low moans coming from both of you as you lose yourselves in each other.

He starts to go a bit harder, pounding into you since he’s gotten more comfortable and used to you now. Your moans start becoming more erratic the harder he goes.

“Fuck,” you moan out

A small chuckle comes from Dabi.

You feel yourself getting close to your climax, when suddenly he stops.

“Wh-Why’d you stop,” you ask

“Oh darling, I’m not finished with you yet, so don’t look too heartbroken,” he says, then kisses your cheek

“I want to see you unravel, so I’m gonna edge you until you are at your weakest,” he says lowly into your ear

“Now be a good little princess and get on all fours for me.”

You turn around and do as he says, arching your back.

“Ohh look at you. So pretty,” he says, admiring your pussy

He slams into you and begins at a hard, but slow tempo. You moan after each thrust into you.

He picks up his pace and grabs a handful of your ass. Your moans creating a symphony of pleasure.

He grabbed you by your neck and pulled you close to him. While one hand stayed on your neck, the other was busy on your clit. Again, you feel yourself about to climax when he stops and picks you up, so you’re straddling him. He has you up against the wall and starts fucking you again. His movements starting to become less controlled.

“That’s it, princess. Look right at me,” he says

Desperate moans fill the room as you both feel yourselves come undone.

He lets you finish first because although he’s a villain, he can be a gentleman when it comes to you.

He lets you down and helps you balance.

“Get on your knees, gorgeous,” he says, then kisses you

You kneel as he says.

“Open your mouth. I want you to taste yourself.”

You take him into your mouth as he says. You feel yourself getting even wetter as you please him.

“Fuck, darling. Your mouth feels so good,” he says and lets out a low moan

He keeps pumping into your mouth, drool leaking as you become even more aroused than you already were.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” he mutters out as he releases into your mouth and throat

He cleans you up and kisses your forehead. He tucks you into bed, still naked, and joins you.

He pulls you closer and massages your shoulder with his thumb.

“You were so good for me, princess. Just get some rest now,” he says and gently kisses your lips.

art by birf__ on twitter

I hope y’all enjoyed this story and stay tuned for more works!!! I’ve been sitting on this one for TWO YEARS, which is actually insane to say, but I’m glad to finally be posting it.

[wintosavesavetowin]

Psp psp psp psp psp come get some dabihawks angst

[ace-touya]

Can I Watch You Train?

A lil Touya and Shoto fic!

“Touya-nii?” The five year old rubbed at his eyes, clutching a teddy bear in his hands.

“Shoto? You’re not supposed to come near us failures, you know. Actually, I’m pretty sure you should be asleep.”

“Wanna see what you’re doing..” he mumbled, “Don’t tell daddy.”

“I won’t, go back inside.”

“Are you going to.. train?”

Touya frowned, “What do you care?”

Shoto had heard his biggest brother asking their dad to train, saying he was getting really powerful, and that Touya was sure he could beat All Might, and Shoto himself.

Every time he heard it, Shoto hoped it was true, and he wished their father would listen. Touya wanted to train and wasn’t allowed. Shoto didn’t want to and couldn’t stop. He always wanted to switch places. Then, he knew his brother would be happy, and maybe he’d be happy too.

He didn’t know how to put that into words. How to explain that he was scared of their dad and that he wanted his brother to save him.

Instead, he mumbled, “I bet you’re super strong.”

Touya just frowned. Not strong enough, he thought. There was a time when he hated Shoto and blamed him for everything, but Touya didn’t feel that way now.

Nowadays, he looked at Shoto, and all he could really see was a little boy not cut out for the role he’d been given. A little boy who wanted to be normal. A little boy who was the opposite of him.

He didn’t think Shoto deserved the life he got.

“Go back to bed.”

“I wanna.. watch you train.” He admitted, “You always tell dad you want him to watch. And he never does. So can I watch instead?”

“You can’t watch me train, I’m going to Sekoto Peak and you can’t come with me.”

“Why not?”

“Dad will be mad that his masterpiece is spending time with the failures!” He yelled.

Shoto seemed oblivious to the fact that Touya was getting angry. Innocently, he asked, “What did you fail at?”

“…Everything.” Touya said, running a hand through his hair and tugging some out.

“Oh. Well… If I can’t watch you, he can!” Shoto held his teddy bear out to Touya, with a big smile on his face.

Touya made a weird face that reminded Shoto a little bit of the face their dad would make whenever he asked for junk food. But still, he took it.

“Just bring him back safe, okay?”

——

“It’s all stupid.” Touya muttered to himself as he walked to his usual spot, clutching the bear tightly in both hands. “I just want my dad to look at me and instead all I get is a dumb bear! It’s not fair!” He yelled, setting the teddy on fire. His angry expression immediately softened into one of worry. “W-wait, stop!” He threw it on the ground, trying to stomp out the flames. “Stop-“

When it finally extinguished, he stared down at it with a lump in his throat. It was all covered in ashes and dirt from the ground, one of its legs completely burned off.

Touya tried really hard not to care about what he’d done. But as he was training he found himself unable to tear his eyes away from the thing.

Shoto cried, when he got it back, but he kept it in the end. After Touya died a month later, he set it down under the shrine the family made in his bedroom.

[his-lune]

☾ dabi masterlist ☽

-`♡´- key -`♡´-

angst (a) ;; fluff (f) ;; smut (s) ;; crack (c)

☾. one shots

ᯓ★ coming soon...

☾. series

ᯓ★ coming soon...

[seneon]

BEWITCHED ──── vampire! touya × fem! reader.

about. only a creature could fill in your emptiness. vampire! au, set in the 1890s. mild suggestive content; bloodsucking and making out. touya is a yapper. wc of 1.1K.

notes. i heart vampires i need to date one actually

it is a cruel and dark night where a human girl born from solitary darkness walks around the howling dusk. your intentions were unknown to the phantoms of the night, but one thing was clear;

you sought a certain vampire.

when your eyes caught a glimpse of the softest white hair dancing along the cold wind that blew past, you swiftly moved towards your wicked solace. all in crumbling hopes that he will once again fulfill your saddening desires to have his hands all over your skin.

touya is seated on a huge tree branch, gazing the beauty of the night before he takes a glance down at his feet. he could feel a little smirk starting to carve at the corner of his mouth at the incoming figure of the most perfect girl he feasted his turquoise eyes and his canine fangs on.

the movements in your legs came to a halt just below the huge tree where touya sat on the highest branches, having a staring contest with the moon lady herself.

touya then hopped down, swiftly landing on his feet before immediately touching your beautiful skin. you were like a beautiful porcelain doll, carved by the fingers of the angels in heaven. only this time, you are his porcelain doll. a doll to feed off whenever he has grown hungry over time.

“the moon knows of your existence,” said the white-haired creature, his refined features glistening under the moonlight that seemed to oddly favour him, making him even more handsome than he already is.

“what?” you let out in confusion and slightly tilted your head, emitting a chuckle from the vampire who used his thumb to graze your cheek in such a loving manner it twists at your stomach and stabs every single butterfly that lives in you.

“i’ve been talking about you to the moon,” touya rephrases, his thumb not on your cheek but the bottom of your lips coated in a light layer of squeezed rose petals. he lightly rubs the edge of your lips, allowing some of the pigment to smear along the path his thumb creates.

“i was so lonely without you,” he said as his gaze never left your lips and the smeared colour that drags down your chin. “you did not come last night.”

“sorry touya. something came up.”

you quickly apologised to him, your eyes lingering all over his face as he lets out a light scoff at your words. “what's more important than fueling my desires, pretty girl?"

“nothing is.”

he smiles at your response, hands moving to trail down your neck as his thumb is now caressing your throat, his touch feathery that it makes you lose the flow of your breathing. you could feel him staring right into your neck as if he seeks comfort by leaning closer to you until your back hits the tree trunk, his face buried in your neck.

“you smell so good…” touya inhales your scent. it's so intoxicating to him that it is like a drug that alters his brain completely. his breathing hits your skin, and it was hundreds of tiny little spiders crawling down your spine at his hot breath that blew onto you.

“you have bewitched me body and soul, do you know that?” his lips brushed over the skin of your neck as you breathed out hitched breaths.

“i am so smitten with you, your blood, your body, your soul. everything.”

the vampire places a chaste kiss on your neck, one hand moving down to weave their way with your fingers. while his other hand rests on your cheek, trailing fiery caresses along your jawline.

“may i?” he kisses your neck again, letting his lips stay on your skin a little longer than it should have.

your mind didn't even need to wander off what he asks of you and you are already nodding to him, already complying and offering yourself as a sacrifice to an immortal creature who lives for an eternity. it's so pathetic that it strips your dignity down into pure nothingness.

touya let out a satisfied hum, wasting no time to dive down right where your neck is let loose. it was let loose for him. a dress you wore that barely covers your neck and collar bones. it's a miracle how you are not haunted by the leering of men yet.

the fangs that touya compressed into his gums sharply reformed to visibility, and then he carved a mark or two by sinking his teeth into your pretty skin.

a grunt of sting you let out, as your head fell backwards, your own teeth sinking into the bottom of your lips to contain the pain that burned your neck. you could feel his tongue against your skin, simply sucking on your blood and feasting on it like he will never consume them ever again.

cheeks painted with the glorious scenery of a rose field, your hand that was laced with touya squeezing his fingers tightly. one free hand moved up to tangle in his white hair, pulling at the soft strands.

his fangs unhooked from your skin, bringing his teeth up to be free from you. he does everything so clean, not a single drop of blood spilling down the corner of his mouth like he hungrily sucks on your life source every other time.

today, touya feels a little different than usual. he feels the need to commit more than just consuming your blood or licking and biting your neck. he feels the need to execute something more than that.

so he pressed his bloodstained lips on yours like a desperate fool. your blood blends with the hues of the rose. his lips are so skilled it screams into your ears that he could do so much more than just to suck human blood and kiss a lonely human girl in the middle of the night.

it only added fuel to the fire even more when his tongue ever so gently licks the bottom of your lip that has your teeth marks embedded when you sunk your teeth in when touya bit into you. you immediately hang your lips open for him to slide his tongue in.

it's a dance in your mouth with both your tongues twisting and molding against each other, swallowing each other's sounds that they moaned out.

heaven forbid you resist this creature of the night. your body and soul aches for him, pushing yourself against him when he comes close to get a feeling of being against his body. it drives you utterly insane as much as it drives the vampire crazy.

touya breaks the kiss and licks away any last bit of saliva that hangs through your tongues, before his turquoise eyes looks down at you with a different kind of gleam.

“you won't mind if i turn your solitary life into something… filled with the colour red, won't you?”

TAGS ★ @heartkaji @rueclfer @sweetheartsaku @lunatiqez @sepptember @angeliicheartt @loveriotss @bbluefllame @noirflms @hyoismbbg @saewako

© SENEON 2024 ♱ do not repost, alter, or translate.

[imagineanime2022]

League Of Villains With An S/O Like Marceline The Vampire Queen

Tomura Shigaraki X Reader, Dabi X Reader, Spinner X Reader

Requested: @supernatural-hunter1

Request: I’m thinking the LOV (Dabi, Spinner and Shigaraki) with a girlfriend, who has a vampire quirk like Marceline, the vampire queen (from Adventure Time) she has a bass guitar in a shape of an axe, she’s a great singer, she can fly, and she only drinks the color red (or eat the color)

Tomura Shigaraki

🤚 You were introduced to Shigaraki when you were young and as you started to develop your quirk became his protector. 🤚 He’d often find that his hand rested on your neck, two fingers over the bite marks in your neck. He matched skin tones with someone… Even if they were a vampire. 🤚 Indifferent to the guitar really, he often thinks that it gets in the way on more stealthy missions but he liked that you were able to fight without it, and found more joy in watching you punch someone across the room. 🤚 Sometimes people didn’t see you until it was too late, you might be the last thing they see after disrespecting Shigaraki or injuring him in some way.

No one could see you, you had been sitting on the bar behind Shigaraki, your legs dangling down behind him as he leant against your shins looking at the new recruits, Dabi and Toga. You were watching them carefully, your guitar rested behind the bar close enough to grab if you needed it, they talked but you noticed the movement of Dabi before Shigaraki did, you grabbed the guitar from behind the bar swinging it around stopping just short of Dabi’s neck “be careful now.” You warned, you held the forearm of your free arm resting on top of Shigaraki’s head and you rested your chin on your own arm. “Are you sure that you need him?” “We need them all unfortunately.” Shigaraki answered “Plus as annoying as he is, I believe he’s going to be useful.” “He does seem like the most capable of a lot.” You shrugged. “Mmm.” He hummed “you can drop the axe.” You sat up as you pulled back the axe, it rested on your shoulder as you slumped forward. “What?” Shigaraki mumbled as he looked at you posture. “I don’t trust him.” You answered as Dabi smirked at you, eyes easily moving over you seemingly assessing you. “So who’s the bodyguard?” Dabi asked. “None of your business.” Shigaraki answered as he turned his back to them, the conversation over as he rested the handheld console that he was playing on your thighs, as you played with his hair and Kurogiri showed the new arrivals to the rooms they could use if they wanted.

Dabi

🔥 Dabi met you before he ended up in the league, he actually went looking for you after hearing about you through the thugs that he was beating to a pulp. 🔥 Dabi then watched you like an absolute creeper for a couple of weeks, gathering information and trying to figure out just what your quirk was. 🔥 He definitely liked your style, the way you dressed, carried yourself and spoke to other people. 🔥 He approached you when he got all the information that he could from watching you.

You were sitting on the roof of the building watching people go by, there were a number of different objects next to you that had been drained of their colour, Dabi didn’t think that it was sunny enough to warrant the hat that you had decided to wear “thought vampires couldn’t sit in the sun.” He finally said, you glanced back at him, eyes moving over him for a second before going back to the people milling around under you. “Vampires can sit in the sun as long as we’re protected from direct sunlight.” You answered. “You’ve been watching me, what do you want?” “You knew?” He asked. “Thought you were sneaky?” You asked. “There’s a lot that you don’t know about me.” “Yeah?” He asked, he stepped forward and you leaned back resting on your hands. “I wouldn’t get too close, you know that guitar isn’t just a fashion statement.” You warned him. “I know.” He nodded “I’ve seen you use it, impressive.” He continued forward until he was sitting on the ledge next to you. “What do you want?” You asked. “You seem bored.” He mumbled. “I’m bored of you dodging the question, what do you want?” You asked. “I want to offer you a prospect.” He answered. “Uh huh.” You grunted. “I want to take down someone and you could help me.” He answered. “Who?” You asked. “What?” He asked. “Who do you want to take down?” You asked. “Endeavour.” He answered. “Now that is a challenge.” You smirked, your fangs flashing in the sun. “You’d better tell me how you plan to do this and I’ll decide whether I join you.”

Spinner

🦎 Spinner was very good at withholding judgement until he'd met someone or seen someone in action which is why he never judged you for your supposed vampire attributes. 🦎 He honestly thinks the guitar is pretty cool, an instrument that doubles as weapons, and always loves when people question whether it’s a real weapon or not. 🦎 On that note Spinner never gets tired of you singing, whether you're just singing to yourself or singing for the rest of the gang (Magni and Toga are often the ones that make requests). 🦎 Your ability to go from a warm presence to a threatening entity, was honestly amazing to him.

Spinner had lost track of you a while back, you had been split up during the ambush by Redestros men, he had seen evidence of you being around considering there were objects that were primary red that had lost their colour, if you were drinking during battle you were having you use your abilities in excessive amounts. Spinner should have been paying more attention when the hulking weight smashed into his side, he recognised the grunts, it was you in your larger bat form. “You need a hand?” He asked. “I mean if you're not too busy.” You shrugged as he looked behind you at the group that had followed the larger man, he noted that you were changing back to your humanoid form and bass guitar thrown over your shoulder. “Are you hungry, do you need anything?” He asked. “No there was enough around here to get what I needed now, I just really want these guys to go away.” You answered, swinging the axe end of the base cutting the closest man’s head clean off. “Wow.” He mumbled eyes widening and cheeks heating, if his skin wasn’t green you would have seen a blush. “You okay?” You asked a smirk taking over your face as you dodged a hit from one of others, Spinner napped out of it throwing a dagger landing it straight in his heart. “I’m fine.” He mumbled as you giggled, killing yet another one of them before moving over to him and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Come on let’s finish this, find the boss and get this over with so we can get back to doing nothing.” You ordered. “Sure thing.” He chuckled, cutting down another attacker.

Request Here!!

[shigarakisdumbwhore]

Dabi drawing for all you Dabi fans

soon to be a sticker on my eBay...

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