#todoroki touya drabble

[gardenofnoah]

“baby?”

he looks more like a cornered dog than a person right now, and yet against all sense, you approach. even like this, touya would never hurt you. it doesn’t even cross your mind—after all, he’s done this for you.

and what he’s done stains his hands and your new dress. he blinks down at both like he can’t quite wrap his mind around the hue of it.

“baby,” you repeat, as softly as you can manage, “look at me.”

he does, after a moment—you watch him come back to you, loyal as he always was. blue eyes find your own, and there’s something about them that is always so unmarred by all of this. touya may do terrible things, but his eyes are those of a child who’s only ever sought out praise.

“did he hurt you?”

it’d been a rare date that he’d decided to take you on, which really was just greasy food shared between you at the dive bar down the street. it mattered little to you—you were just as happy to lean against his shoulder in that torn up booth. the walk home was the problem.

you’d noticed some guy watching you in the bar. that was the thing about dull men—they never noticed touya until it was too late. he was never any bark—only devastating bite. he’d gotten up when you did, and followed you out into the street. he’d reached out to grab you by the jacket you wore—touya’s jacket—and there was no taking back that.

“no,” you murmur, “you’d never let him, touya.”

he nods, stiff. he’s still a little far away—even knowing that you weren’t hurt, it’s the thought of it that will eat at him the rest of the night. you’ve been here before—he’d pull away if you let him.

you don’t. you close the distance between you, tucking yourself under his chin and squeezing around his middle, all but forcing him to let go of the breath he’s been holding on to.

“oi—your dress—“

“don’t care,” you nuzzle into his chest, affectionate and preening. “you kept me safe.”

there’s a rumbling in his chest at that—something animal that keens at the recognition. he is your protector—he’d never let anyone hurt you.

he doesn’t touch you—he doesn’t want to ruin all the effort you took to look so pretty for him—but he lets you hang off his arm the rest of the way home, careful to shield you—from the road, from other people, from anything.

at all costs, touya protects what he loves.

[bunnyyyuu]

even if he won't say it, touya really is a big softie for you.

you know it when you see the look on the league's faces when he lets you get close enough to touch—it's a "what the fuck is wrong with dabi?" look. you can see the confusion and near repulsion amplify tenfold when not only does he allow you to grasp his hand, he holds yours back. everyone in the LOV knows dabi would rather die than have anyone's hands near his scarred skin.

you know it when, on non-busy days, he follows you with a fake reluctance to the so-called "hangout spot" of the league's hideout. at this point, spinner is always asking you to "get dabi" because everyone knows he won't let anyone else drag him out. but when your big eyes plead with him to spend some quality time with the LOV, he just can't say no.

you know it when he hisses a sharp "no, get your own," when a soul dares to ask for a bite of his food (even if he's complaining about it being bad three seconds later), but will hand-feed you a big bite of your own. sometimes, he'll even offer you the rest if you really seem to like it.

you know it when he hides his face in a pillow as you diligently change the staples on his back. he knows he can do it himself—you know he can too, considering he was stapled up years before you met him—but he knows you'll do it better. you make sure his skin is aligned perfectly, each silver sliver placed evenly apart. you make him look like a work of art. it doesn't hurt like it used to, is what he always says, but he's still biting down on that pillow like he'll die otherwise.

you know it when your hand is wrapped around his cock under the covers while you two lie face-to-face. his hands are in your hair or on your waist as he bucks into your fist. white lashes are against cheeks, sheilding those teary turquoise eyes from you. even if the dim light, almost all of his pale flesh is dusted pink. when he's close, he'll pull you flush against him and duck his face into the crook of your neck. he keeps humping your hand, tip now rubbing and spreading a mess of pre against your soft stomach. he's whining, and he's greedy for you, and his whole body feels like it's on fire in a good way for once, and his brain is a mess except for one, consistent thought—you. "thank you," he rushes out of his lips between moans as he spurts cum on your tummy, "'love you."

you know it.

[heich0e]

touya always has your baby in his arms, or strapped to him in a carrier, or balanced on his hip when baby gets big enough to hold onto papa too. he wears that baby like his favourite accessory. like one of the essential items he can't leave the house without; phone, wallet, keys, baby.

you notice it after a while: if they're both conscious (or at least touya is,) that baby is in his arms. you think it's sweet, how could you not? he can barely stand being away for a couple of hours, even if he knows the baby is in the best possible care—shouto has proven himself to be a surprisingly proficient babysitter, at least under fuyumi and natsuo's tutelage.

and then one night you find touya asleep in the arm chair in baby's room, pulled up alongside the cot that recently had its bars removed, since baby really isn't much of a baby anymore—though that's still hard to believe most days. he's sprawled out sideways in the chair, his wiry arms and legs dangling, and in his sleep, touya's hand is resting overtop of baby's chest as it rises and falls with steady, easy breaths.

and, for the first time, you realize that maybe the reason touya feels so attached to your child—the reason he can't bear to be apart—is because he knows what it's like to be a child that wasn't held when he needed it. to be a child without a pair of open arms to offer comfort, or a hand on his chest to ease his dreams. and though there are many things that touya may never be able to do, and many ways that he'll inevitably stumble as he learns what it takes to be a father, he knows he never wants his child to know what that feels like.

[nubsdolls]

you were his angel.

the prettiest little thing, he swore when he looked down at you he was seeing stars. the way your skirt bounced with every step you took or whenever you jumped up to greet him, exposing the sliver of lace between your thighs, the thin fabric barely leaving anything to imagination.

how the sunlight almost always shone down through the clouds and right onto your face during class, carefully capitalizing on your features hes almost sure, were sculpted by god himself. the flutter of your lashes, the sheen gloss on your pouty lips, god, it drove him mad.

that same gloss that coated the base of his dick, creating a pretty little rim around his length, fuck you take him so well. the glossed-up rim barely visible by the slick trail of cum spluttering out the top as you placed little kisses along the rim of his tip, hands treating him so gentle as if he were glass.

and an angel you were as you came down from heaven above and onto him. sweet, sweet babbles escaping your lips as you swallowed him whole, engulfing him and all of his inches. he grips down feverishly onto your thighs like its his lifeline. hips stuttering back up to meet yours as he starts to keep a pace.

how you would arch your back when he flips you over and starts fucking into you from behind, watching as his cock disappears and reappears from inside your gummy walls, murmuring stupid plea’s, begging him to go deeper into you, to feel him in your guts as if you weren’t already breaking under his touch. your shoulder blades reaching so far up and so prominent he worries they’ll break from out of your skin, the image reminiscent of an angel gaining their wings.

as he holds you closer, picking up his pace and growing all breathy, stumbling over his words, all while dragging himself in and out of your slick warmth, his fat cock starting to twitch inside of you and he starts going blank, mumbling your name and sweet nothings into your ear a prayer.

“ngh—hah.. yeah.. you g’na take me baby? yeah. fuckin’—take it.” he stutters, hiccuping between tears of pure bliss.

cumming in you feels like heaven on earth. the sticky substance filling you up all the way—with him still inside as he slowly pulls out, his thick cum spilling out of your cunt and dripping onto your thighs as he drags his still sensitive tip along your swollen clit, before pushing it back in with a lewd squelch! that makes you cry out in pleasure. feeling as he slowly starts to fuck his warm fill right back into you.

yeah, his angel alright, and he was sure to taint you with his sins.

DABI , TOUYA , (im aware theyre the same person.) gojo , geto , choso + whoever elsee !

[grenadehearts]

MHA BOYS SMAU - they react to you not saying "i love you" back

minor suggestive themes mainly sfw!

characters included are bakugo, izuku, hawks, kirishima, dabi/touya

requests are always open <3

tumblr only lets me post 10 pictures at once if anyone knows how to change this lmk!!

[majoryeager104]

WE COULD HAVE HAD THIS

FUCK YOU ENJI ALL YOU HAD TO DO WAS SHOW UP AND THE WORLD WOULD HAVE BEEN THIS MUCH BRIGHTER 😭😭😭

Art by Kadeart 🫶🫶🫶

[unriding]

KINKTOBER DAY 29 — DUBCON. dabi x f!hero!reader ﾉ tw dark content: dubcon- very heavy dubcon to be safe, mentions of murder, brief mention of being his pet, fear play, reader has a support quirk that is not fit for fighting alone, forced orgasm, temperature play- kind of, hints of manipulation + corruption

what happens when your curiosity takes you to the league of villains’ hideout? luckily enough, there’s only one of them there to greet you— and the world seems kind enough to let you off with a sweet deal. fuck him just once to guarantee his silence, or so you thought.

The day you held your hero ID in your hands for the very first time also happened to be your first instance of being told to stay far away from the League of Villains.

You only vaguely remember the reasoning being that they were too dangerous for a support like yourself (especially one with zero experience under their belt) along with another thing that went in one ear and straight out the other.

A part of you has always wondered why the heroes you worked under had gone through so much trouble to ensure you stay back. Keep you hidden from the spotlight, perhaps- because how could you improve if you were always being protected? It was frustrating to see everyone besides yourself on the news.

Ironically, it’s the same reason why you’ve never been faced with the realization of how weak you really are until your head is being pressed into a table, arms easily held tight behind your back- and an infamous villain right behind you. A real one.

Not a simulation today- not one monitor in sight.

“Shigaraki would have loved to meet you,” his voice sends a shiver down your spine, and you feel danger- a concept someone like you is entirely unfamiliar with. “He’s always had a thing for types like you.”

He pushes back inside- this time slowly, as if trying to brand the moment deep into your mind, and you only manage to weakly whimper when his hands tighten around your wrists, the heat emitting from his body acting as a cruel reminder that he has the power to kill- and you don’t.

“N-no,” the desperation in your voice is painfully obvious, “not him, okay? That wasn’t part of the deal..!” You can feel your heart pounding against your chest at the thought of meeting this man’s leader, breathing short and labored as different images flash across your mind as to what being ‘his type’ would imply.

You feel him throb inside you, and a whimper slips out.

“Ah, of course,” his hands land on your hips before he holds you still, letting himself push deeper inside you until you’re stuffed to brim- full of him. “I just wonder about what would happen to that fragile body of yours.”

“Just think about it…”

You think your body definitely shouldn’t be reacting like this. Underneath the trembling and shivering- your cunt flutters around him. Eagerly and hungrily, as if it’s been waiting for someone like him for years.

“Or… actually, how about this, hero?” He grunts- rougher now, pace picking up enough to make you gasp and lock up underneath him. “Forget the deal. Pay me a visit every week, and the League will never hear about you. How about it?”

“B-but—” You halt as soon as you feel his palms heat up against your skin.

“We both know that muscle-head would have a field day with you.” You feel a cold bead of sweat roll down your temples, clammy hands struggling to keep your grip on the table. Your whole body feels numb- disobedient, but he feels good.

Too good for you to register exactly why your core suddenly feels so tight at the suggestion. “And if I remember, Compress likes types like you too. That guy’s got a mean streak,” Dabi leans to press his chest against yours- cold staples making you gasp, and he whispers against your neck, “he’d break you, you know.”

Your eyes widen- knees locking up, and your heartbeat rises to pound in your ears. “P-please— please slow down—”

He ignores you, only giving you a laugh in response. “What a pitiful state you’d be in. Think about it. I’ve been pretty nice, haven’t I?”

“W-wait!” You’re desperate now, reaching back to push at his hips and rising onto your toes to escape him. “I feel— feel weird—”

Something inside him seems to snap at this. You’re yelping as soon as your head is back on the table the next second- big hand roughly pushing you down and you sob. “What a hero you are,” he’s laughing loudly now, “cumming and crying on some League dick. Where are those pathetic bodyguards of yours now?”

You open your mouth to protest, but he moves to clamp his palm over it- roughly pulling you back in one swift motion until you’re flush against his chest. “Those ones drooling over you? How about I just kill them so you don’t have anywhere left to go? I’ll take you in as my pet,” you feel him smile against your neck- sick and twisted, and your cunt only clenches in response. “Be a good little hero and cum if you agree.”

Your eyes shoot open the same time he slams against a deep part inside you, body betraying every single shred of morality you have left when you cum, hard. It takes you by force, leaving no chance for it to go unnoticed by him when you’re clenching, shaking, and dripping underneath him like this. He has the heart to let go of you, let your weak body collapse onto the table beneath you as your chest heaves up and down for air, tears brimming your eyes and he only throbs inside you once more, hungry for more.

“Then it’s a deal.” His hands run up your sides, content with the way you shiver and lean into his touch. “A good choice, hero.”

[leahrintarou]

✩₊˚.⋆ SITUATIONSHIP PT.3 - dabi/touya todoroki

CW: swearing, suggestive in some parts, gn!reader, dabi being a smartass, y/n's shoplifting lmao, he's in heavy denial it's insane. (also, that necrophilia joke is a JOKE. don't take it seriously pls lmao)

Author's Note: hi hiiiii. i love writing for this little series thing so if u get sick of me, i'm sorryyyyy. i hope you enjoy reading, send in a request if u have any!

part two here!

got a request? send it in and i'll write it :D

Taglist: @nemoo888 @delicatexmoonchild @flowerpjimin @tedcruzumakii @sugacor3 @selysixn @mitsuyas-version @matchaismylove @cyberrthegreat @ivydoesit23 @riririntaro @ilovechickfilasauce @sincerelyzee @daydreamteardrop @satorusluvrgirl @tired-jaz

[rissouu]

I lovvved the she's busy smau prank!! Can you do random Dabi texts and maybe Hawks?? They can be anything :))

Thanks if you do! ^^

random texts with dabi!

warnings: suggestive, mentions of sexual content, mentions of smoking, and etc!

author’s note: hi bby, im glad you enjoyed it! sorry it took so dang long, but here’s your request love :) i really need to stop with these text au’s but im already in too deep.. 💔 im obsessed

©rissouu 2024 (don’t steal my shit, if it’s inspo make sure you give credit!)

masterlist

[unhinged-bratty-boy]

Dabi - sad headcanons

This is my first time writing anything, be gentle with me 🙏🏻

It wasn’t supposed to be anything. Just a bored glance while killing time in the a convenience store as he waited for his contact to show. But then you walked in.

At first, he didn’t think much of it - just another face in the endless sea of strangers. But something about you made him pause. The way you casually brushed hair from your face while scanning shelves, the soft hum of a song under your breath, completely unaware of the world around you. You were normal. Unshattered. Alive.

His sharp, turquoise eyes narrowed, lingering longer than they should’ve. He blamed it on curiosity. Something about you felt warm in a way he hadn’t experienced in years - like standing too close to a hearth after a lifetime of cold. It made him uncomfortable. Made him angry.

He should’ve walked away. He didn’t.

Dabi followed you out of the store without even realizing it. At first, it was instinct - silent footsteps slipping through the dark alleys like a shadow as he followed. He told himself he just wanted to see where you lived. Just a quick glance, nothing more.

This one time turned into a shady routine for him. He had to know more.

Within days, he knew your routine - when you left for work, when you returned, where you shopped. He mapped out the weakest points of your flat with practiced efficiency - windows that didn’t lock quite right, a back door that stuck if you didn’t shove it hard enough. Old habits. Necessary. Just in case.

At night, he watched the soft glow of your apartment lights from across the street, imagining what your life must be like on the inside. Warm, ordinary, safe. He hated how much he wanted it.

One day, when he saw you struggling with heavy grocery bags, the opportunity was too perfect to pass up. He shoved his hands deep into his material pants pockets, masking the nervous twitch of his fingers.

"Need a hand?" His voice was rough, casual - but there was something too sharp in his gaze, too focused.

You hesitated for just a moment before offering a grateful smile that hit him like a punch to the chest.

"Thank you! These bags are killing me."

He took them without another word, pretending the weight didn’t bother him. He could feel your eyes on him, curious, a little suspicious but not wary - not yet.

As you walked together, you talked - about nothing, really. The weather, the annoying store line, small, inconsequential things. But every word out of your mouth felt like oxygen to a man used to suffocating.

When you unlocked your door and turned back to him, smiling that same soft, trusting smile, he swore he felt his ruined heart stutter.

"Thanks again... um...?" you prompted, clearly expecting a name.

For a split second, he considered giving his real name - Touya - but killed the thought immediately. Too dangerous. Too personal.

"Dabi," he said instead, voice low, almost daring you to question it.

"Weird name," you said playfully, completely unfazed. How sweet you didn't recognise his villain name. "But thanks, Dabi. I really appreciate it."

Dabi always got what he wanted. He was ruthless, cunning, relentless. He should’ve burned this weakness out of himself the moment he realized what was happening. But he couldn't. He wanted you. All of you. And he was about to make you his.

This was how you two started seeing each other.

Dabi never calls your flat a home. The word sticks in his throat like ash. Home was burned away years ago, leaving only the cold, empty shell of survival. The apartment he crushes in from time to time is just a place where he exists, not where he belongs.

He lives in your home like a visitor overstaying his welcome. His clothes stay packed in a small, battered duffel bag shoved under the bed. “It’s just easier this way,” he mutters when you ask why he never uses the closet.

No matter how much he scrubs his skin, the faint scent of burning flesh never fades. He can see you notice but pretends he doesn’t. It makes him feel disgusted with his own self. It makes him feel guilty because you deserve much better. When you light scented candles or spray room freshener, he flinches inwardly, convinced you’re trying to mask the stench of him.

Every time he touches you, it feels like a silent goodbye. His hands are scarred and trembling, his grip tight like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers. When he holds you, it’s never soft - it’s desperate, bruising, clinging. He needs the reminder that you’re real, that he’s still here, that he hasn’t burned you away yet.

He doesn’t say “I love you” because he thinks it’s a lie. People like him can’t love - not properly. Not in ways that don’t hurt. But sometimes, late at night when he thinks you’re asleep, he’ll trace your features with the lightest touch, memorizing every line like he’s carving you into his memory - for when you’re gone.

He expects you to leave. He knows you will, eventually. Everyone does. He can’t stop his sharp tongue or bitter jabs when he feels too close - it’s his defense mechanism. If you get too close, you might see him for what he really is - broken, twisted, beyond saving. Better that you leave on your terms than pity him.

Dabi barely sleeps. On good nights, he dozes fitfully beside you, waking at every small noise like he’s still being hunted. On bad nights, he sits by the window until dawn, smoking one cigarette after another, eyes fixed on your soft, relaxed features as you're deep in your slumber.

Late at night, when the world is still, you often find him standing at the window, his eyes tired, staring into the endless dark. His cigarette burns low between scarred fingers, ash scattering unnoticed, staining your floor. "Touya, come back to bed," you ask, improving your silky nightgown around yourself. He doesn’t turn around. His voice is rough, distant, "Tsk. Don't call me Touya. He is long dead."

On his worst days, he believes he deserves the pain. He’ll disappear without a word, returning with fresh burns hidden beneath his sleeves, the acrid smell of charred skin lingering around him. You know better than to ask where he’s been - his hollow eyes tell you everything you need to know.

Dabi doesn’t believe in a future - not for himself. The idea of living a long, peaceful life feels like a cruel joke. He talks about “when” he has to leave, never “if.” He’s already made peace with the fact that whatever this is - you and him - won’t last. Nothing ever does.

He keeps insignificant things - crumbled notes you left on the fridge, your old scarf that still smells faintly of your perfume, a broken hairclip. He stashes them in a small, dented box under his bed in the LOV hideout. Sometimes, when he can’t sleep, he pulls the box out and runs his fingers over the keepsakes, pretending, for a few minutes, that he’s someone worth remembering.

When you fight, Dabi lashes out like a wounded animal, sharp and cruel. His words are designed to hurt because he expects you to leave anyway - better to make you hate him than to watch you drift away. But afterward, he’s consumed by guilt, curling into himself like a burned-out ember.

He can’t say sorry - not with words at least. But after a fight, you’ll find your favorite snacks mysteriously restocked, the blanket you love folded neatly on the couch, a worn apology scrawled on a crumpled scrap of paper left where you can find it. He’s trying - in the only ways he knows how.

Dabi isn’t someone meant for love - but God, how he wants it. He knows he’ll never deserve you, that this life he’s stumbled into is a borrowed dream destined to shatter. But for now - for however long this fragile, imperfect thing lasts - he’ll hold on with both hands, knowing that in the end, he’ll be the one left burning.

[miyamoratsumuu]

WHAT'S LEFT OF YOU

↳ you promised to marry each other by the time you were 23. but when the time came, a happy marriage wasn't what greeted you when you saw him again. touya todoroki/dabi x reader notes/warnings: implied character death (no specific details of how), angst angst angst!!!, events stated from the war may not be completely accurate, doesn't contain a specific timeline from the series

navigation . . .

mha masterlist

"we'll get married when we're eighteen!" was the first thing touya heard when you successfully convinced your mom to give you two rings she never wears anymore. the boy could only roll his eyes as he watched you skip your way closer to him.

"no way! that's way too early you know!" he crossed his arms and tapped his foot on the ground. he instantly regretted doing so when your grin was replaced with a frown and tears threatened to spill from your eyes. touya sighed and took one of the rings from your hand and held it up in front of you.

"let's get married when we're twenty three instead. we won't be too young and we won't be too old either. just don't cry, alright?" he slipped the ring onto his finger and he did the same for yours. now your grin was wider than the one you had earlier, and the eldest todoroki couldn't have it any other way. he was satisified with himself until you raised your pinky finger towards him.

"pinky promise?" you had a hint of hesitation in your voice, laced with the innocence of believing in the strength of promises made with the pinky of your hand. touya only replied to your hesitation with a confident grin, and with him wrapping his pinky around yours.

"promise!"

that was the last interaction you've had with touya todoroki since you last saw him. it's been forever since you last made promises with the boy, it's been years since you last heard his name, and it's been months since both of your birthdays this year have passed. both of you were supposed to be twenty three by now, but then again, your ring finger still lacked a wedding band.

you never thought you'd stand face to face with the todorokis again after all these years, but here you are. enji todoroki, the man himself, laid in a hospital bed, as his wife and children stood by him. "dabi's dance" "the todorokis' eldest son is alive" "touya turned into a villain" "touya's alive"

the last thought never left your head for what felt like forever. the swirl of emotions in your stomach felt like the warmth of a fire on a winter night and the sting of alcohol in a new wound in one. it's been days since dabi, the famously known villain from the league of villains revealed himself to be touya todoroki. the current battle between him and shoto must be tough on both of them; you thought. it was tough on you too, to only be watching from the other side of a tv screen in your dimly lit apartment.

it made you feel bad, but the only thing going through your mind while the brothers were on tv was if touya's promise ring was still with him. if you were special enough to him for him to keep something that had a piece of you that came along with it. it's a shame you only got your answer weeks after the war ended.

it wasn't a surprise that the only people that attended the man's funeral were the members of the todoroki family themselves. other than them, you were the only other attendee there. all of you wore black, and the pouring rain just matched your mood perfectly. soon, one by one, touya's only known family other than the league said their goodbyes and left. until the only ones left in front of the sad pile of soil was you and enji todoroki. your eyes never left the ground until the man beside you cleared his throat.

"the police said they found this among touya's belongings. well, his used to be belongings. everything else was burned in a fire, this was the only thing left." you turned to him as he opened his palm to reveal a ring; it was small and had the smallest bit of rust along its sides but otherwise, you could recognize that piece of jewelry anywhere.

"I assumed it had something to do with you since I've seen you wearing a similar one for a while now." enji urged you to open your hand, and he gently placed the ring in your palm. he offered you a bow and bid you goodbye. since the man left, you never moved from where you stood, and you never let the ring out of your sight. it was the last piece of who touya was; before hurt caught up to him, before it pushed him to change who he was entirely, and before you lost him.

tears pricked your eyes as you slipped touya's ring onto the finger beside the one your own ring was on. this time, you let the tears fall down your cheeks. you let yourself cry, now that touya isn't there to stop you. by now, you were supposed to be celebrating your marriage with the only boy you ever loved. instead, you grieved in his death, and the sky continued to let its tears fall as it mourned with you.

a/n: my first take at writing for dabi!! I hope this came out alright huhu I'm not too sure with how I described some scenes but oh well (I desperately need rue's opinion on this like I'm praying to the tumblr gods that rue sees this on her dashboard PLSPLSPLS)

[metranart]

Imagine Dabi teeth baring and seething quietly, lips imperceptibly trembling while doing his very best to keep his composure… but he failed.

“Dabi, what—”

“Shut up.”

You recognized the wild look of lust on his face, hazy eyes staring almost predatorily, anticipation eating him alive as he cornered you. Huge erection pressing against your leg. You stared wide-eyed as the sinking realization came over you. Fuck—

Startled, you pushed at him. He pushed back, corralling you against the elevator even harder. The air was knocked out of you.

"Baby, not here, wait until we get to the apartment—”

He clamped a too-warm hand over your covered breast and leant his face against yours, his forehead felt feverish and sweaty. "—I'm not waiting… I-I can't, baby."

Those eyes, like blue-burned coals, pierced into yours. You could feel the heat smoldering off of him and you bite your lip guiding his stapled hand under your blouse and bra with such tease, you could hear him growl.

"Well, then…" you release a shaky, unhinged breath, "Be gentle?"

He won't.

Patreon / Twitter (NSFW Stuff)

[heich0e]

Touya's not usually one to check his text messages.

Never has been, ever since he got his first cellphone when he was 13. He finds it more of a nuisance than anything, the way people always want to get ahold of him. Always expect a response from him over the most mundane shit. He barely likes talking to anyone as is, let alone during his private time—therefore, as a general rule, he doesn't respond to texts.

Especially not ones that pop up on his phone on a lazy Saturday afternoon with the contact name 'Bird Brain' listed as the sender.

But when these particular message previews appear, rudely interrupting him in the middle of watching a cake decorating video while he lays sprawled across the couch, Touya can't help but click through to the conversation to give them the response that they deserve.

His response is about as succinct and unamused as he is.

Three telltale dots appear at the bottom of the conversation before Touya can click away, and he finds himself waiting to see what Keigo comes back with—for reasons not even he quite understands.

Touya pushes himself up off the couch in an instant, stomping into your bedroom.

He finds himself hesitating once he makes it to the doorway, his body having moved relatively of its own accord, realizing only once he's standing at the threshold that he's not even really sure what he's going to say.

You're laying across the bottom of your bed on your tummy with your sock-clad feet lifted in the air behind you. You have one headphone in your ear and your laptop propped in front of you with that stupid romantic drama you like so much playing—the one Touya pretends he hates but always gets a little pouty when you watch an episode without him. You turn when you spot him in your peripheral vision, popping your headphone out of your ear and hitting the spacebar to pause your show.

"I'm almost done," you tell him, glancing back to your screen where the male lead is paused mid-confession—his mouth still open in the middle of his ardent monologue. You peer back at him again over your shoulder with a slightly smug look. "If you hadn't watched ahead without me we could be watching it together, y'know."

"That was an accident," Touya grumbles, sniffing a little indignantly. "It started playin' automatically when I turned the TV on."

"Sure, sure," you chirp, turning back to your laptop. When you realize Touya's still lingering there, you face him again, this time pushing yourself up on your elbow so you can twist around to look at him more fully. Your brow furrows. "What's wrong?"

Touya sucks in a breath of air and holds it in his cheeks, narrowing his eyes slightly.

"Can I see your phone for a sec?" he asks.

The pinch of your brow slackens as one of them lifts in surprise.

"Yeah," you say, though your tone is still a little wary. You nod towards your bedside table at the head of the bed. "It's plugged in."

Touya shuffles towards you, rounding the end of your bed frame and approaching the device in question. He sit down at the edge of the mattress, and it dips under his weight. Beside him, you shuffle a bit closer to him as you resume watching your show, one of your feet brushing gently against his back as you kick them idly back and forth.

Touya knows your passcode, just like you know his, so it's no effort to unlock the device once he has it in hand. Finding the app in question is another story entirely.

He turns to you.

"Which one of these is Instagram?" he asks, holding the device in front of your face with the home screen open.

You pause your show again.

"This one," you say, pointing to one particular app icon, but your voice is notably perplexed.

Touya's never had any interest in social media. He had a couple of accounts when he was a teenager but hasn't properly logged in for years. As new social networking sites have risen and fallen, he's never bothered to even sign up, seeing no need in signing away his personal data to a platform he'll never use anyway.

Touya taps his thumb against the icon that you pointed out, waiting for the application to launch. His leg jiggles impatiently while he waits for it to load.

Beside him, you don't unpause your show.

When the screen finally loads, Touya is immediately accosted by an unfamiliar interface. There's some photo of a girl he doesn't know taking up most of the screen, and a few bubbles in the upper right hand corner that he can only assume are notifications you haven't checked. Touya may not use social media, but he's not an idiot either, so after clicking around the screen for long enough he finally manages to pull up what he recognizes as your personal profile.

"Touya, what are you doing?" you ask, thoroughly bewildered now, having just watched your boyfriend visit just about every corner of the Instagram app.

He sucks in a sharp breath.

Slowly, he turns to look at you.

"Did you just post this?"

He doesn't really need to ask, considering the baggy t-shirt you're wearing in the photo—his t-shirt, he recognizes immediately—is the same one you currently have on as you lie stretched across your bed. It's all you have on, save for the frilly little socks on your feet and the edge of the panties he can see peeking out where your shirt's hem has ridden up.

The photo blessedly has left those out.

You clear your throat, almost like you're embarrassed, reaching out for your cellphone. "Yeah, a little while ago."

Touya holds the device out of your reach, and a little sound of indignation slips from your lips. He keeps scrolling.

Your profile is full of photos of you that are just as charming as the first one he'd seen. Some are of friends, or food, or places you've visited. Many are even of him, or the two of you together. The collection is like a series of little snapshots into your life—of all the moments you wanted to save or share. But every so often there will be a photo just of you.

You with your lips pursed coyly, or maybe quirked with the ghost of a smile. You wrapped in a skimpy little dress you bought for a special occasion that Touya is all too familiar with. You with your eyes bright, or maybe one where they're heavy lidded in a sultry expression that makes something possessive and primal scrape against Touya's ribs.

His face feels hot when he looks at those ones. Hotter still when he realizes other people have seen them too.

"I think you should delete your account," he says suddenly, turning to face you with a completely serious—and markedly insistent—expression.

"W-what? Touya!" You exclaim plaintively. You push yourself up onto your knees and scrabble for your phone. Touya doesn't fight back to any real degree. He lets you crawl into his lap and wrestle it out of his hands, though the two of you do go tumbling back across the bed in the process. Once you've safely tossed the phone down to the other end of the bed out of his reach, you turn back to him with an irritated pinch to your features.

Touya meets your gaze easily, like a man without guilt.

"What's gotten into you?" you ask him softly, still straddling his lap. Your hands rest over his sternum, fiddling idly with the strings of his hoodie.

Touya sighs, reaching up and tugging you down to his chest before snaking his arms around your waist to keep you pressed against him. You don't try and wiggle out of his grip like he thinks that you might, instead you let him hold you, nuzzling your face into the collar of his sweatshirt.

"You're being weird," you mumble.

"No, weird would be me asking you to throw your phone away and never leave the house again so I'm the only one who gets to look at you," Touya replies, his fingers dipping under the hem of your—his—shirt and creeping up along your spine. "I'm actually being pretty normal, all things considered."

You huff out a little laugh and Touya feels the warmth of it break against the skin of his throat. You lift your face so you can look at him, and Touya admires the view of you from so close up. The curve of your lips, the colour of your eyes, the tip of your nose. He could look at you all day, he realizes then. Every part of you. Every inch and dip and curve that makes you up. He could study them. Map them out with his eyes closed, long committed to memory.

You make him feel kind of insane, sometimes. More insane than usual, anyway. He worries that he likes you too much.

"What are you thinking about?" you ask him quietly.

You.

Touya purses his lips.

It wasn't his intended goal, but he's happy to accept the little kiss you press against them anyway, a laugh slipping out of his mouth and into yours before you pull away. He shuts his eyes, letting his head tip back against the bed again, letting out a long, exhausted breath.

"Wanna help me set up an instagram account?" he finally mutters after a long stretch of silence.

You push yourself up overtop of him, and when he cracks one eye open he finds you looking down at him excitedly.

"Really?" you ask him incredulously, but undeniably pleased by the prospect.

He nods a bit, pulling you back down against his chest. He lets his eyes shut once more.

If deleting your account is out of the question, he might as well have his own so at least he gets to admire it.

You wiggle comfortably in Touya's hold, your TV show long forgotten at the other end of the bed, content to just let your boyfriend trace lazy circles into your thigh as your legs tangle together with his.

Touya's eyes pop open again suddenly, an unpleasant and not-so distant memory rushing back to him.

Your gaze meets his own, a quiet concern swimming behind it.

He takes your face in his hand.

"How do you block someone on Instagram?"

[harleys1nhawaii]

IGNITE THE HEAT [dabi / todoroki touya x f!reader]

thinking about dabi riling you up and giving you all of him for hours, just to stop and grin at you from above seconds before you can release that knot in your stomach. your cheeks are burning from tears and your aching cunt is clenching around nothing, laying in the wet patch trembling and desperate. his hands grabbing your waist and hips down, grounding you into the soaked matress as his mouth stretches into a grin so wide, the metal staples start leaking blood.

“f-fuck, dabi!” you whimper as your cheeks stain with more of the salty liquid. your voice is strained and too weak, your throat is dry from all the restless vocal show you gave him. “why? why are y’ doing this?” it only fuels his desire. feeling a rush of primal satisfaction, knowing that he was the cause of your pleasure and pain, the reason for your weakened state.

“shh, doll.” he presses his lips against your neck, his voice a low rumble. his tongue darting out to flick against the shell of your ear. “you’re doin’ so well f’ me. so fucking good, doll, letting me break you like this.”

dabi’s touch is gentle, his fingers wiping the tears from your cheeks with a tenderness that seemed almost uncharacteristic of him. “don’t cry now, doll. just a little longer, i promise. you can hold on a little more f’ me, can’t you?” you can’t help but nod in silence, eyes pleading at him through wet lashes and heavy lids.

“that’s a good girl.” he murmurs, voice low and possessive. your hands grip onto the sheets again as your voice breaks, feeling him deep inside your sensitive walls.

despite his soft, comforting words, there was a hint of mischief in his eyes, a sly smirk playing at the corners of his lips. you couldn’t catch it when your body ached with need, your mind a haze of desire and frustration. it was as if he knew something you didn't, as if he was planning to keep playing with you, even after he promised to give you the release you so desperately craved.

the night went on, his hands continued to explore your body, touching, caressing, teasing. but instead of bringing you closer to the edge of release, he kept you balanced on that precarious precipice, never pushing you over the edge. he smugly whispered his “just a little longer”’s, kept telling you how good you were being, how patient you were, how much he loved the sound you made when you were on the edge of release, to never give you the relief of it for another couple of hours.

[grenadehearts]

MHA BOYS SMAU - they react to you asking them to buy your pads :3

sfw, characters included are bakugo,deku,hawks,dabi/touya, todoroki, kirishima

requests r always open <3

[gardenofnoah]

“wait, are you really scared?”

you groan into the pillow you have your face smushed into. you know you’ll have indents on your cheeks from how hard you’re holding it, but it’s either that or gorey jump scares.

“yes, touya, i’m fucking scared.”

you hear his chuckle from the other side of the couch and fight the urge to smack him with the pillow. if only it wasn’t the one thing protecting you right now.

“aw,” he coos, dripping in condescension, “poor baby. c’mere—i’ll save you.”

your snort is muffled by the fabric, but you scoot across the couch toward his voice anyway. in a rather impressive display of coordination, you manage to drag yourself up to settle on his chest—all without losing your blinder.

“there ya go,” touya murmurs, plucking the pillow from your hands. you squawk, reaching to grab it back before the next scene.

“why are you like this? give me it—“

you’re cut off by sudden darkness. you blink, and as your eyes adjust, you see much more of your boyfriend’s skin than you had just a second ago.

“touya.”

“yeah, babe.”

“i am in your shirt.”

you feel the laugh rumble under your palms. “yeah, you are.”

“why am i in your shirt?”

“would you rather watch the movie?”

“….good point.”

you don’t have to see his face to know the grin is there when he pats your head through the fabric. you rest your cheek against his sternum, settling in to his warmth. you can concede that it is much better than the pillow, especially when his fingers drag up and down your back, surprisingly soft for the dog that’s all bite. it nearly puts you to sleep until you feel him startle underneath you. against your ear, his heart kicks, fast and sudden.

“…..are you scared?”

he pokes you square in the forehead through the fabric. “of course not. shut up.”

you bite the inside of your cheek to stifle the grin, even if he can’t see it. even the roughest dogs are afraid of something.