#touya x fem reader

[mika-writes-fanfics]

Blue-Flamed Forest

Witch!Dabi x Fem!Reader

Tags/Warnings: fantasy AU, medieval AU, witch!Touya, witch!reader, time skip, creampie, mating press, fluff and smut, soft Touya, teasing

Synopsis: Time has now passed since your initial meeting with Touya. You've come to learn more about yourself and your new abilities, all with the gentle guidance of Touya. But... you find yourself feeling more for him than just someone who lives in his home. When he speaks, your mind blanks, too busy on watching the way his lips move to even absorb a word. Your feelings come to a fever pitch when you playfully steal his hat. So what happens when you decide to act on your desires?

Author's note: HAPPY HALLOWEEN (early). Okay so I know I have been gone awhile buuuuut I figure with halloween right around the corner... I should rly get around to showing witch!Touya some love. And so, here you are.

Word Count: 6.2K

Heavily inspired by this art by the lovely shoucolate

Masterlist

Link to AO3

Part Two

It has been some time since you first arrived. You’ve grown accustomed to both life in the forest and life with Touya. The seasons have since changed. All of the trees have shed their leaves and a thin blanket of snow covers the ground. Usually, around wintertime, you’d struggle to stay warm and heat your shop while you drowned in needlework. But now? Touya’s home -no-  your home is never cold, the fire always alit with his glowing blue flames. The only struggles you truly face are from attempting to understand runic language and from trying to stay awake with how cozy your home is. Which brings you to now, finding Touya has lost that battle and slumbers peacefully. It’s a sight that makes you smile, seeing him so serene. 

He must not have intended to fall asleep, as he’s still wearing his hat. The pointed hat is now crumpled against the chaise. You’re able to really look at him like this, to fully drink in his features; the slope of his nose, his pretty white eyelashes, the contour of his lips… You try to push down these thoughts of yours when they come around, but you can’t help but think he’s quite attractive. It’s becoming increasingly distracting lately. Just the other day, when he was so close to you, attempting to help you understand a particularly confusing spell from his books, you couldn’t stop staring at his lips and thinking about what they would feel like against yours. You can’t even remember what he said then, it’s gotten to be that troublesome for you. 

You’re pulled out of your thoughts when he seems to stir in his sleep, brows pinching together as he mumbles incoherently. You knew of his troubles sleeping, but you never had the chance to see what he was talking about, as the two of you slept separately. It seems to you as if he’s having an unpleasant dream. The thought of him having nightmares while you stand there and do nothing doesn’t sit well with you. You don’t want to disturb his slumber, so you decide against awakening him. Instead, you choose to soothe him. 

You sit next to him on the available space of the chaise. Your fingers deftly trace the runes on his skin. The contact seems to calm him, as his brow slowly relaxes and his mumbling subsides. You wonder if he has bad dreams often, silently carrying that burden all on his own. The thought makes you determined to get to know him better. You want to become someone he trusts, someone he can rely on. You’ve been grateful for his help in understanding yourself and your new abilities, but you can’t help but worry the relationship has been one-sided, with you disproportionately benefitting while he gets nothing in return. You want to help him too, you’re just not sure how. 

You must have been too enamored in your own introspection to notice he had awoken. His eyes flutter open and drearily peer at you. You feel frozen in place. 

“Y-you’re awake,” you stutter. Your cheeks feel hot. You turn away as you apologize. “I didn’t mean to wake you, I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” he dismisses. His voice is raspier and deeper than normal. Hearing him speak this way sends a tingle down your spine. Your eyes are magnetically drawn to him despite your embarrassment and you glance over at him. He gives you a soft smile as he rubs the remnants of sleep from his eyes. It seems the dregs of drowsiness are wearing off of him, as he flirts, “I wouldn’t mind waking up like that more often.” 

“Waking up like what?” you ask, inquisitively. 

He merely smirks at you, before clarifying, “To you.” His sweet words make you feel even more flustered.

“You tease me too much, Touya,” you huff.

“I do not,” he defends, sitting up as he denies your accusation and closing some of the distance between you. “I don’t think I do it enough, actually.” 

“Well in that case…” you start, before trailing off at the end of your sentence. Touya looks at you expectantly. You snatch his witch’s hat from his head and dodge his reaching hands by leaping up from your spot on the chaise. “Until you stop teasing me, this will be mine.” 

You place the hat atop your head. He’s staring at you with a shocked expression. His stunned demeanor makes you a little nervous, causing you to question if your attempt at playfulness has instead insulted him. You try to maintain the lighthearted mood by asking, “What, does it not suit me?” 

His mind is flooding with thoughts of you wearing more of his clothes. Or better yet, you in nothing but his hat. 

He’s gotta get that damn thing back. 

“As much as it does, I’ll be taking that,” he says. You give him a mischievous smile.

“You’ll have to catch me then,” you challenge. And with that, the chase begins. Touya is much quicker than you expected, as he gains on you quickly. You duck and dodge his efforts to snatch the hat from your head. It’s after a particularly close call that you think of a devious idea. You still have the rune marks on your skin from practicing earlier, the letters temporarily stained onto your skin with simple ink. It’s nothing more than a simple spell, something you learned from him, in fact, but maybe it’ll help you prolong this little game. A chair is pulled out ahead of his path, so not as to cause him to trip and hurt himself but to serve as an obstacle, in an attempt to buy yourself a few more seconds. He catches it with his hand and pushes it out of his way. 

“It’ll take more than a cheap trick to stop me,” he brags, before resuming the chase. 

You maneuver carefully and quickly through the halls. You’re nearing the end of the hall, so you have to make the quick decision to dive into a room. You choose to bolt into your bedroom. It’s rather small and a dead end, but maybe you could figure out a way to dart past him and win this little game. His pace is slower as he enters your room, knowing full well that you’re cornered with nowhere to go. You attempt to run past him, but his arms circle around your waist. He grabs you and spins you around in his arms. You let out a surprised squeal. 

“Alright, alright, you win,” you concede, speaking in between giggles. He gently places you down on the ground. You reach up and place his hat back on his head. Your arms seem to hesitate. You don’t want to stop touching him just yet, so you rest one of your arms on his shoulder, like a faux embrace, while your other hand adjusts his hat. He doesn’t seem to mind, as he leans into your touch. One of his hands rests upon your waist, pulling you slightly closer to him. You feel more secure in your gestures, and you drape your arms behind his neck. 

You’ve been afraid of overstepping by touching him all this time, but his reactions make you realize he really doesn’t mind. It’s as if he’s been starved for touch. The thought of him being so deprived of human interaction makes you a bit saddened. You remember what you were thinking about on the chaise, how you wish to understand him more. How can you expect to learn more about him if you never take the chance to ask? 

“Touya?” You ask, unsure. You’re curious, but you don’t want to make him uncomfortable.

“Hm?” He hums.

“Please forgive my prying and my sudden question, but… did you ever feel lonely?” you ask softly. “I just… I can’t help but wonder what it was like for you, to be alone all these years.” 

“Even before,” he starts, referencing his time as a royal. “I never was much of a socialite. Being alone is natural for me.” 

“Hm, is that so?” You hum, before continuing in a softer, almost somber tone, “I hope my presence hasn’t ruined that for you.” He’s quick to deny it, dispelling your worries.

“No, not a chance. I…,” he pauses. There’s a slight flush that begins to creep upon his cheeks as he hesitates to speak more. Your eyes catch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows, before his next admission falls from his tongue. 

“I have enjoyed your company,” he admits. His other hand finds itself on your waist and the two of you hold one another. Your heart seems to stutter. 

“But would you continue to enjoy it?” You challenge. His gestures get bolder, as he pulls you flush against him, his arms wrapped around your torso. “You’re stuck with me now. Would that ever be tiring?” 

“I don’t think such a thing is possible,” he reassures. 

“I sure hope not,” you murmur. He gives you a soft smile that you find yourself returning, lifting the mood. The two of you embrace comfortable silence, gazing into each other’s eyes with enamored expressions, until he seems to be lost in thought. You don’t notice how his eyes flick from your eyes to your lips. 

“Can I…” he trails off, shyly. You raise an eyebrow, encouraging him to continue. His face reddens more when he finally rushes out, “Can I kiss you?”

“Please,” you breathe, responding almost embarrassingly fast. A quick flash of relief crosses his face upon hearing your enthusiasm before being replaced by a loving smile. The space between the two of you closes as his face draws closer to yours. Instinctively, your eyes flutter shut and your lips part. 

You can feel him fighting back a smile when your lips finally touch. The feeling of his lips on yours is everything you imagined and more; soft and sweet, loving yet passionate. Despite finally feeling his lips on yours, satisfying your desire, you find yourself yearning for more. You want to feel more of him, all of him. The thought fills you with a fire you’ve never felt before. You throw yourself to the flames and kiss him back with fervor as you card one of your hands through his soft, white hair. 

He holds you tighter against him as his lips work against yours. Your heart feels like it could just burst when he deepens the kiss and runs his tongue along your lip. His tongue brushes against yours when you part your lips further. The action makes you sharply inhale. You’re intoxicated by him, drunk on every sensation he gives you, to the point it feels almost dizzying. The desire you feel makes you weak in the knees and your arm tightens around him in an attempt to not sway on the spot, but this task seems almost impossible when you feel something hard pressing against you. 

Reluctantly, you part for air, trying to catch your breath before your knees really give out on you. He rests his forehead on yours as the two of you both pant in unison. Your stomach flutters when you lock eyes with him, noticing the way he looks at you, eyes half lidded. The sight of him like this… and all for you. All because of you. 

It fills you with desperation.

A desperate need for more.

 After the two of you catch your breath, he moves to give you space, taking your choice to part for air as a sign to stop, but you pull him closer and cling onto his shirt. You don’t want to stop anytime soon. 

“M-more,” you whisper, want apparent in your breathy voice. He lets out a soft, airy chuckle at your neediness and leans in for a kiss, but gives you nothing more than a quick peck on the lips before pulling away.

“Why don’t we take this somewhere more comfortable, hm?” he suggests.  “Is the bed okay with you? 

You instantly agree, maybe a little too eagerly, much to your embarrassment. He doesn’t tease you about it, something you’re silently thankful for. In fact, he seems to reward your honesty and enthusiasm by pressing a few heated kisses to your jaw. His bold actions make your knees nearly buckle and a soft gasp escapes your lips.

Bastard.

Your steps are now clumsy, thanks to his flustering, as he leads you down the hallway. But now in your room, the magnetism between the two of you pulls you together once more. His lips find yours and he kisses you with renewed fervor. It’s equal parts passionate and desperate, carrying with it unspoken feelings of yearning and long awaited closeness. You return his feelings through your own actions, as you coax him forward by gripping his shirt collar. 

Your movements are less than graceful as you both move. It’s a distracted waltz towards the bed, your minds too busy on the feeling of one another to focus on making controlled movements to your destination. Though, it doesn’t take too long, as after a few shared, airy laughs at your clumsiness, the back of your knees touch the bed. You yield to the furniture, lying down on the mattress and parting your legs. He soon joins you and kneels over you on the bed, his body tucked in between your thighs. 

He moves on from your lips and slowly presses hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. He kisses a particularly sensitive spot on your skin along your collarbone, earning a whine from your throat. The sound of you keening for him only further spurs him on and he sucks the skin into his mouth, leaving behind a faint mark. Soft pants escape your lips as he continues marking your neck and chest, painting reminders of him on your skin, all the while he’s overcome with the need to hear more of your sweet moans. 

You feel his hard length press in between your legs, now tantalizingly close in the new position. Your breath hitches and your heart leaps in your chest upon feeling his hips rut against you, grinding against your core. The feeling nearly drives you to the edge of blind passion, as you battle the desire to rip both your clothes off and feel his hot skin against yours. But as much as you’d love to throw caution to the wind and sleep with him now, there’s a gnawing worry in the back of your mind. 

“W-wait,” you stammer between panting breaths. He freezes at your request and pulls back slightly.

“What is it, my love?” He asks. You can hear a faint twinge of worry in his voice. His hand finds your knee and traces circles through your skirt fabric, his own way of soothing both you and himself in this moment. He looks at you, expectantly, not wanting to move until you speak your mind.

“Maybe…” You start, before trailing off. A soft curse escapes your lips as you grapple between your desires and your relational mind. Your chest is heaving and you bite your lip. When your words finally find you, they’re hesitant and hushed, “Maybe we should stop.” 

“Is that what you want?” He questions. 

“Well, no, but… I don’t wish to have a child yet,” you explain shyly, insinuating what would come next. Touya raises a brow, as if he knows something you don’t.

“That?” He questions. “Something so simple is solvable with an easy spell, done after.” 

“It is?” You ask, voice pitched an octave higher in surprise. 

“Yes,” he assures you with a soft smile. Your amazement at magic is always so endearing to him. But, despite this problem being easily worked around, he knows such a revelation is sudden. He’d love to take you now, but he doesn’t want to push your boundaries. “Though if you’re unsure, we can just-” 

“No,” you interrupt, quickly cutting off his next words. You tenderly cup his face. “It’s okay, I want to.”

 “If you are sure…” He whispers. His eyes flutter close as he leans forward and presses his lips against yours in a soft kiss, before picking up where he left off. Only this time, he starts a new trail down your neck, adorning you with more marks suckled into your skin. You’re painted in his colors as he works over your neck, occasionally soothing over the now bruising skin with his tongue. Both the feeling of his mouth over your sensitive neck and the thought of him laying claim to you like this has you squirming underneath him.

His lips inch closer to your hemline, and you find yourself wanting to rip off your own clothes if it means you’d feel the sin of his lips grace more of you. He seems to sense your frustration and he pulls himself away from you. As he’s now sitting up, his greedy eyes admire the sight of you below him. 

Through his eyes, you look absolutely irresistible like this; your eyes opium blown with lust, your neck mottled with love marks, your dress slowly slipping off your shoulders, and your lips parted and kiss-swollen. If you look this alluring to him still fully clothed, he wonders just how much more he’ll want you upon seeing your bare skin. 

The thought spurs him on. His hands snake under your skirt and grip your thighs. The fabric hikes up your legs, exposing your skin to the cool air and to his gaze. Bit by bit, his hands ascend up your thighs and onto your hips, tracing the curves of your body along the way. 

Even with your inexperience, you understand what he wants. You reach for your metal girdle belt and unlatch it, allowing the chain to pool against the bed. With your belt no longer in the way, he helps you pull your dress and chemise over your head. You lift your hips and he rids you of the rest of your underclothes. 

You’re now fully undressed in front of him. The realization makes you feel insecure, only further worsened by his gaze on your body. You try to cover yourself with your arms out of reflex, but he tuts at your insecurity and grabs your arms, pinning them to the bed. 

“Feeling shy, are we?” he teases, his husky voice only serving to worsen your embarrassment. You avert your eyes from his and worry your bottom lip in between your teeth. “Love, what is there to be shy about?” 

“It’s just… I’m sure you’ve seen more appealing women than I,” you answer, speaking softly and unsure. “I’m worried I’m… disappointing.” 

“Not a chance,” he assures. His voice drops an octave and he compliments, “Had I not already known you were a witch, I’d have taken you for a succubus.” He dives in for a passionate kiss on your lips, soothing your insecurity. When he pulls away, he breathily reaffirms, “You are heavenly.”

He punctuates his point by pressing a kiss in between your breasts. Both his actions and words fluster you, but you’re not able to hide your face from his gaze with your arms pinned to the mattress. His lips begin to roam the expanse of your chest until he reaches your nipples, where he places an open-mouthed kiss on them before taking your bud into his mouth. His tongue draws circles around your nipple. You moan and arch your back at the foreign sensation. Wetness pools in between your legs with every flick of his tongue. 

“So sensitive,” he teases, speaking against your skin after pulling away from your breast. 

“How can I not be when you’re-“ you start, before he latches onto your other nipple and chokes off your retort. You shoot him a glare, to which he smirks at upon releasing your chest with a wet pop. 

“‘S not a bad thing, my dear,” he says. “It’s flattering.”

“Ugh, you’re so unfair,” you groan.

“How so?”

“You keep teasing me and…”

“And?”

“And… you’re still…” you struggle to say the rest, trailing off at the end. This situation on its own is embarrassing for you, much less speaking your mind. He looks at you expectantly, urging you to continue. You swallow down your shyness and avert your eyes from his intense gaze when you speak again. “It’s easier for you to fluster me when I’m unclothed and you’re not.”

“So you want to see me naked? How naughty,” he chastises, though his words lack any true admonishment and are instead laced with amusement and cockiness. 

“Oh shut up,” you shoot back. You groan at his taunting. “I just want to touch you, all of you, without your clothes in the way.”

“Then let me give you what you want,” He obliges with a smirk. His warmth leaves you momentarily for him to shed his clothes. You prop yourself up on your forearms to watch him.

First, his loose robe is lazily guided off of his shoulders. Then, he pulls his white shirt off, allowing you the full view of his stomach. It flusters you more to see a modest set of toned muscle along his abdomen, hiding underneath swaths of his torso adorned with more runic tattoos. His arms flex slightly as the shirt is completely pulled off and thrown elsewhere. 

You push yourself off of your arms and sit upright, now closer to his bare upper half. Your hands trace over the now bare skin of his arms, trailing along the tattooed runes, and eventually making your way to the planes of his chest. He shudders slightly as your fingers dance further and further down his body. His breathing significantly picks up when your twitching fingers dare to graze the beginning of his pelvis. 

You look up at him and bat your lashes. It’s a silent demand. He hasn’t fulfilled your wish yet; there’s still clothing between the two of you. His hand caresses your jaw, tenderly, before acquiescing to your request. He withdraws from you and stands to undoe the fastening of his pants. And with that, he’s now bare before you.

Your eyes travel down the contours of his abs and to his pelvis. Much like the hair on his head, there’s a patch of white at the base of his hard length. You’ve not seen much of the male anatomy, but from what you can gather, he’s rather large. You start to worry, just how is this supposed to fit? 

You must have said what you were thinking aloud, and he answers your worries. 

“It will. I’ll make it fit, my love,” he promises.  He sees your apprehension and reaches for you. His knuckles tenderly strokes your cheek as he reassures you with a gentle voice, “I’ll go slow, just relax for me. Trust me.” 

He gazes at you with an expression nothing short of adoration. Your heart swells at how softly he’s treating you, how he has never once through this interaction pushed you farther than you were comfortable with. With him, you know he’d treasure this part of yourself that you’re giving to him. You take a deep breath in to steady your nerves. 

“Okay,” you answer. You look at him, reflecting back his look of love and smile. “I trust you.” 

He closes the distance between you, bare bodies now touching, and presses a kiss to your lips, loving and soft at first. His tongue slips into your mouth and you moan at the intrusion. His hard cock brushes against your thigh at the sound, twitching all because of your moan. 

His warm fingers slowly trail down your body, soothing over the goosebumps that pebble your bare skin. The pads of his fingers graze between your breasts, down your stomach, and over your mound. Your heart begins to race with anticipation when he drags closer to your core. He finally touches where you’re most desperate and your breath instantly hitches upon the contact. His fingers trace up and down your slit, drawing soft whines from your throat with every pass over your clit. 

A few deliberate, harder presses against your clit sends soft waves of pleasure through you. The teasing, slow touches have you growing wetter for him, coating his fingers in a sheen. Seemingly satisfied with your evident arousal, he alters his goal, his touch now descending from your clit and focusing elsewhere. His fingers prod at your entrance before he slowly inserts one finger into your hole. You gasp at the foreign intrusion. His fingers feel so long yet delightfully thick. The feeling of makes your hips squirm. 

He tests the waters cautiously first, pulling out of you at an agonizingly slow pace. When his digit has nearly slipped out of you, he searches your reaction, and upon seeing no traces of discomfort, slides back inside. His fingers then pump in and out of you, setting a comfortable pace. You let out soft gasps intermittently, finding pleasure in his movements. 

Though, he seems to be looking for something, altering the angle of his fingers as they dive in and out of you. His gaze is affixed to your face. He’s searching for some sort of reaction. When his fingers press against the spongy bundle of nerves in your walls, you instantly keen. Your toes curl at the shockwaves of pleasure that scatter through your core at the feeling of his touch against your g-spot. He smirks at the sight. 

“That’s it,” he cooes. “Feels good?”

“Y-yes, oh god, Touya,” you moan loudly, with a drawn out keen of his name. Your walls flutter around his finger as he continues to bully into your most sensitive spot. The feeling of you pulsing around him clouds his mind and he enters a lust filled haze. 

“Yeah, keep saying my name like that,” he breathes. His eyes are half lidded as he starts to imagine the way you’ll feel around his cock. Fuck, the thought has him realizing he needs to get you properly prepped and stretched for him. “Think you can take another?”

Your legs instinctively part wider for him, at the thought of being stuffed full on his fingers. You nod at his question. You’re eager to feel more of him. He sucks in a breath and pulls out until just the pad of his middle finger is nestled in your cunt. His tattooed ring finger collects the beads of wetness slipping out of your core, before slowly pushing in alongside his other finger. The delicious stretch has you moaning and arching on the bed. And with the new position of his hands, the palm of his hand grinds against your clit with every slow thrust of his fingers. The surprise of the new sensation has you throwing your arms around his neck. 

“T-Touya,” you whimper. The pleasure he’s giving you is too much, yet not enough at the same time. There’s a pressure that’s building up inside of you, a white hot pleasure that threatens to spill over. It’s a foreign feeling, yet it’s something you find yourself chasing. 

“M-more. Please Touya,” you beg sweetly. Your eyes are welling with tears, all from the sexual frustration. It makes his heart stutter when you bat your lashes at him, now damp with tears threatening to spill over. The hands behind his neck now card and tug through his hair. 

You’re driving him fucking crazy. 

He surges forward and captures your lips. His pace quickens. The pleasure drives you crazy, especially when the fingers delving into you keep curling up and hitting that delicious spot inside of you. It doesn’t help that now his palm firmly presses against that sensitive bundle of nerves with every inward thrust of his fingers. You moan and whimper into his mouth desperately, to which he eagerly and greedily swallows by tangling his tongue with yours. Your fingers harshly tug his white locks as you find the pleasure coiling up your spine. You let out a salacious, sinful sound as your release dances on the edge.

 He pulls away from the kiss to whisper a warning against your lips, “If you keep moaning like that I won’t even last.”  

True to his words, you glance down at his cock, instantly feeling flustered upon seeing his tip leaking precum and his whole cock throbbing. It just barely brushes against you with each furious bob up and down. 

You bite your lip and swallow down your sounds, wanting him to last. Despite your release so close, you find yourself wanting something else instead. 

“Please take me, Touya,” you blurt out. His pace falters and he releases a curse under his breath. 

“You temptress,” he hisses. He groans and squeezes his eyes shut. His jaw clenches as his chest heaves slightly. “What did I just say about me not lasting if you keep…” He grits his teeth, a shaky, tense sigh slipping past. 

Who is he to deny you though? He’ll cave to your wishes every time, giving as much of himself as he can before falling apart. He scissors his fingers inside of you, the sudden movement accompanied by a mild twinge of pressure. 

“Are you sure you’re ready for me?” He asks. His crystal blue eyes stare at you intently, half lidded yet still searching for any hint of hesitation in you. 

“Yes,” you reply. “Take me, please Touya. Make me yours.” 

He sucks in a breath. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to hear that,” he admits. 

He takes himself by the base and aligns with your slit. It’s teasing how he runs himself up and down your lips. You feel as if he’s still torturing you with pleasure, not realizing he’s gathering up your slick. He’s staying true to his words that he’ll make it fit. 

With his head now coated in a layer of sheen, his cock head pushes into your twitching hole, inching in slowly. You feel a slight pinch at the intrusion. The pain makes you gasp and whimper. Unwittingly, your nails also dig into the back of his neck. 

It reminds him to go slow with you, despite the intense pleasure he feels upon your tight walls clamping around his head. Seconds drag on as he pushes himself further inside of you, every inch stretching you beyond what you’d think physically possible. It’s dizzying how full you feel. 

With one more slow cant of his hips forward, he’s nestled into you to the hilt, his pelvis meeting your thighs. He sighs at the feeling of your body wrapped around his full length. His forehead rests against yours as the two of you take a moment to breathe. He soothingly runs his thumb over your cheek, silently acknowledging your initial discomfort. 

When your breathing normalizes and the traces of pain leave your expression, he pulls his hips back, allowing his shaft to almost slide out of you until only the head remains. A whimper escapes your mouth as he slowly slides back in. It elicits a strange feeling inside you, bordering between not quite pain, but not quite pleasure yet. 

“Shh,” he coos. He’s reassuring and gentle as he speaks, “I’ve got you. You’ll feel better soon, my darling.” 

Soft praises consisting of ‘you’re doing so well’ and ‘I’ll take care of you’ spill from his lips with every slow, deep thrust of his hips. His praises make you dizzy, and the feeling of his length pressing against your cervix doesn’t help. You feel so full. You’re sure you’d see the outline of him inside of you if you looked down.

 A particular thrust seems to brush against that gummy spot inside of you, and the initial discomfort gives way to blissful pleasure. Upon seeing your relaxed and lustful expression, he sets a faster rhythm. Every drawn out drag of his hips against yours starts to build up. 

A thick sheen of sweat coats his pale skin and his thrusts become faster, more purposeful. You’re writhing underneath him, arching your back and dipping your hips to meet his thrusts. It’s clear you’re becoming desperate for more.  

He hooks his hands under your knees and presses your thighs to your chest. You gasp at the mating press he pushes you into, feeling the burn of your thighs and a burn in your ears from the embarrassment of being splayed open. His cock seems to go deeper in you and is angled at the perfect spot. Your walls clamp down on him as his head nudges against your g spot. He feels your reaction to the new angle and lets out a groan. 

His hips snap forward harshly, causing an audible smack between your bodies. The contact taps your clit and has you instantaneously keening. Eager for more of the feeling on your bundle of nerves, your hand snakes between your legs to toy with the hood of your clit. He catches sight of your sneaking hand. His eyes go dark at seeing you chase pleasure. 

“Hold these for me, will you?” He requests, guiding your own hands to the back of your thighs. Words of protest, regarding how indecent you feel, die upon your lips. With his hands now free, his fingers find his way to your clit now, rubbing tight circles. 

He feels you tighten up around him, your walls contracting in an impending orgasm. His eyes focus on you in this moment as he’s attuned to your every reaction. You look so beautiful to him in this moment, with your face contorted in pleasure, your lips parted from panting and moaning, your pupils opium blown and dilated. He just knows you’ll look even prettier when you fall apart under him. 

“‘S too much,” you whine. Despite your assertion of overstimulation, he ignores your protest. His movements on you clit fasten and he pushes harder against your bundle of nerves.

“Shhh, you can take it. I know you can,” he assures. He slightly quickens his pace and continues to rub your clit. “You’re close, I can feel it. Just let go. Cum for me.”

“Fuck, Touya!” You scream, his words urging you to come setting you off. Your legs shake and convulse with the intensity of your orgasm. A flood of wetness escapes your hole, allowing his thrusts the lubrication to work you through your climax, despite how tightly your walls attempt to suck him in.

He steals a quick glance to where your bodies meet, seeing a ring of cream coating the base of his cock. His eyes nearly roll back at the sight and his hips slam into you harshly out of impulse. 

“God, you’re so tight. ‘M gonna-” he warns, before he lets out a punched out sound, the words dying on his lips. His hips stutter as he reaches his end. You feel his hot release spill over inside you, filling you with warmth. He continues to pump shallow thrusts, working himself through his own climax. Your ears burn upon hearing the sound of faint squelching coming from your hole. 

You relax the grip on your thighs and allow your legs to relax. He takes the hint and slowly pulls out of you, causing a trickle of your shared releases to gush from you. 

“Wait here,” he whispers. “Let me get something to clean you up.”

You nod at his command and wait for him on the bed. He returns quickly with something to wipe you down with. Soreness starts to settle between your legs, your body now aching from the stretch of him. A sharp hiss escapes your lips when he touches your cunt with the fabric, and in reaction, mutters a soft apology. He gingerly runs the dampened cloth against your folds, wiping away the flood of your shared releases. 

“Touya?” You ask. He hums in response, urging you to continue with your words. “The spell?”

“Don’t worry, that can be done within the day. You deserve some rest now,” he assures. You sigh in relief and motion for him to come closer. A chuckle escapes him, along with a playful tease of ‘so needy for me’, but he happily obliges your request.

He lays behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. The two of you lay like this, in harmony together, basking in the closeness. Your breathing steadies as one, and you��re sure your heartbeats begin to sync. The love you feel for him threatens to spill out of your soul.

The tenderness of the moment turns humorous as he shifts and grumbles behind you. “Mm, this bed isn’t very comfortable,” he complains. You instantly bark out a laugh. 

“And you just now realized that? Now you know what I have felt in this bed,” you agree. He shakes his head.

“Apologies for that, my darling,” he apologizes. He seems to think for a moment before his voice deepens suggestively, “You know, mine has room for two. Why don’t you stay with me in mine from now on?” 

You reach behind you and crane your neck to kiss his lips. “I’d love to,” you answer. He smiles against your lips and goes to move for another kiss, but you pull away to add. “But later, ‘m too sore to move.”

“But of course,” he laughs. You nuzzle back into his body and chase his warmth. Tattooed arms pull you flush with his chest, allowing all of your skin to meld with one another. Your eyelids feel heavy as sleep begins to wash over you. The last thing that crosses your mind is how staying here, with him, forever, sounds like heaven to you. 

[the-masked-ram]

Blurred Lines- Chapter One

CW: NSFW, College AU, Roommate AU, Dom/Sub Undertones, Gambling, Friends with Benefits, Enemies to friends, Hate sex, Impact play, Mild Breath play, Drugs, Alcohol, afab! reader

--- Chapter One: Rent Not Necessary

The ad had been clear enough, relatively simple honestly. It sounded like a dream opportunity for a poor college student like you who currently lived off peanut butter sandwiches and ramen. Maybe it was too good of a prospect. Especially when the words, rent not necessary in exchange for housework, popped up at the end of the advertisement.

Usually that threw red flags, it probably did throw them in your logical brain. But you were currently living on minimum wage with a job just barely hitting the double digits in hours. School had gotten crazy this quarter and you were hurting on sleep, on extra hours to eat, and just generally minutes to drink anything. So you shoved those inner warnings into the shadows of your mind, and set up a meeting for your future possible roommate.

The café the two of you agreed on was close to campus, and you had managed to carve out thirty minutes between classes of free time. At least you could grab a snack and something to drink before your next hours of hell.

You sat at the table, tapping anxiously against the fake wood. A slice of lemon pound cake in front of you and coffee with some doctoring to make it a bit more palatable. He said he’d be wearing an Iron Maiden shirt and have white hair… how old was he?

You nibbled at your pastry until the door opened, and your eyes snapped up to check once again. And fuck, was that him? That had to be him… he fit the description, but lord. He was smokin’. His face and ears glittered with gold, piercings catching the daylight through the large windows, his eyes a sparkling blue and his smirk lopsided, a mischievous set to his entire stance.

A shiver ran through you, completely unwanted but it was such a visceral reaction. Especially when he saw you and that smirk grew, his eyes flitting over your body and his tongue coming out to swipe his lower lip. It was odd, usually you never had the instant desire to run. But this time, god everything screamed it, tugged at your brain to listen this once, because fuck this man would eat you alive. Yet, you stayed rooted to the spot under his heavy gaze as he sauntered over. Suddenly you forgot that your class was now within twenty minutes. You dropped his stare, unable to stand the teasing glint in the blue depths.

“Hey,” he called to you. “You the one who answered the ad right? ”

You swallowed, your throat felt so fucking dry, “Yeah.”

You stood, introduced yourself, and offered a hand, he took the chance to size you up again, seeming to like what he saw he nodded and shook your hand, “Todoroki Touya.”

“So, Todoroki… I guess I will start with this,” you pushed a small folder towards him, holding your last two places of residence, two one bedrooms shared with another person.

It was also filled with recommendations, your schedule, and anything else relevant. He flicked through the papers with a lazy look one might first think was boredom, but since you were studying him, you watched his pupils flick across the page and his eyes narrow on certain lines. He was taking this seriously.

As he studied the papers, you studied his face and the many piercings that adorned his pale skin. He had one just under his lip, right where a horizontal labret would be acceptable though it was lower than most. It was a solid hoop of gold that was drawn tight against the skin, in the center of his lip sat a black hoop. On his left eyebrow was a stud that glittered with an icy blue gemstone. Maybe a blue diamond? He had three dermal piercings on the right side of his nose making the points of a triangle and his ears were adorned in a mix of studs, chains, bars, and hoops all ranging from warmer and colder golds to black.

This man definitely liked body modification, but he seemed so confident and smart, he wasn’t someone to place in a stereotype and underestimate. You were trying to busy yourself with drinking your coffee and eating more of your cake, struggling so so hard not to keep looking up at Touya. And you were failing.

“Do you have any questions for me?” he asked, leaning his cheek against his knuckles.

“Ummm, yeah a few, if you don’t mind?”

There was something that sharpened in his gaze as he focused on you more intently, “I wouldn’t have asked otherwise, would I?”

You shifted under the intensity of his stare but nodded shortly, “Alright, I don’t exactly know how far the commute is to campus? Wasn’t able to look it up yet. Do you know? Do you have any other roommates? And… was that thing about rent serious?”

He laughed, leaning against the booth and resting an arm on the back, “Yeah, I need someone to clean up a bit, cook some so I stop eating crap cause I get too lazy to cook for myself, I mean… you’d buy your own groceries and help out with internet cost, utilities as well. The commute is about, eh, I’d say fifteen to twenty minutes, even if you take the long train routes it’s only thirty. No other roommates, though I have friends over often.”

He tilted his chin back a bit to scrutinize you, “If you can clean, cook, and generally do some basics that I can’t always keep up with the room is yours. You seem quiet, your schedule would mean your gone more often than not, other than on Mondays and at night.”

You desperately wanted to agree, but this time the scream of logic seemed to get through and you said, “Can I see it? The room?”

His smile was easy, victorious, “Of course.”

--- Taglist- @arvandus --- If you want to read up to chapter 4 of Blurred Lines, want to get early access, or want some special original content check out my patreon! Link

[sup-hoes-its-me]

You're desperate for them right now pt.2

feat: denki, kirishima, tokoyami, dabi, hawks

Summary: as requested, here is a second part to my desperate for them post with some other characters including denki and kirishima . Fem!reader and not edited so I guess whatever typos there are you just gotta deal with them. hopefully you guys like, i added a couple characters ive never done before so...

nsfw: read at your own discretion please

denki:

kirishima:

tokoyami:

dabi:

hawks:

[baby-tini]

This man burns the sheets when he cums. Especially if you're riding him, his head thrown back, tight grip on the soaked sheets as he whimpers... hands always moving. He can never keep still when he's about to cum, especially if you're overstimulating his cock, continously pulling orgasm after orgasm out of him. He panting like dehydrated dog, running his hands over your thighs, slapping your ass, playing with your pretty tits. He just can't. keep. still. So in turn, anytime he tries too touch you, you bat his hands away, so now his only hold on reality is the ruined sheets, pulling so harshly they start to tear at the seams, and that's when you smell it. Burnt cloth filling your lungs as you catch blue flames in the corner of your eyes.

He's shaking, body convulsing as he whines. Thighs shaking as the sheets start to burn, back arching while his eyes roll back. Pleasding for you too keep going, let him fill you up again, tight, wet cunt squeezing him for everything he's worth. Your nails scratching nasty, red marks down his chest. Sweaty strands of white hair sticking to his forehead as cerulean eyes stare up at you, onyx swallowing the blue whole.

"Please baby... fuckkk- keep going, yeah, yeah- just like that. Tightest fucking cunt, you want my cum so bad, don't you slut, huh?... mmhm shit." And of course, "sorry for the sheets babe, I'll buy you new ones pretty girl."

@dabislittlemouse I keep reading and re-reading your "riding dabi" post. He's so fucking pretty, also I feel like he gets tired from over-using his quirk so he'll have you ride him quite often.

[kateschi]

into the ashes

synopsis: amid the chaos of flames and debris, dabi bares witness to you getting injured. he does not like it.

pairing: dabi x f!reader

⊹ ࣪ ˖ notes: behold i have forced my bestie into liking him

the air reeks of smoke and burnt metal, debris scattering across the alley as another explosion rocks the street. you’re cornered, body trembling from the impact, struggling to regain your footing.

blood trickles down your arm from a gash on your shoulder, and the sharp sting makes your vision blur for a moment.

dabi stands a few feet away, eyes locked on the thug who had dared to strike you. his entire frame is tense, shadows dancing across his scarred skin, the blue flames licking at his fingertips ready to erupt.

he doesn’t even glance your way at first—his gaze is trained solely on the scum in front of him.

"you’re going to regret that," he says, voice low and lethal, a dark promise wrapped in fire.

the thug grins, clearly underestimating the depth of dabi’s rage. but you can see it—the way his blue eyes darken, how the flames around him burn hotter, more unstable.

there’s no room for banter now, no time for him to throw his usual sarcastic remarks. the second you hit the ground, his entire focus narrowed to one thing: absolute destruction.

but as much as his fury is directed outward, there’s something more dangerous in his posture—something sharp and suffocating in the way his hands shake, just barely under control.

for once, he’s not just mad. he’s terrified.

"dabi—" you start, trying to push yourself up, the pain shooting through your side forcing you back down.

he whirls around at the sound of your voice, and for a split second, you see something in his eyes that you’ve never seen before.

it’s brief, but the fear is there, raw and unchecked, the kind of fear that cracks through the facade he wears so well. his lips curl back into a snarl, but the flames flicker dangerously as he rushes toward you, the thug all but forgotten in that moment.

"don’t move." his voice is harsh, sharper than usual, but there’s an edge of desperation beneath it. "just—stay still, alright?"

you blink up at him, dazed, but you manage a weak nod. he kneels beside you, one of his hands hovering just above your wound, hesitating.

his touch is scorching, his quirk on the verge of slipping out of control, and he knows it. the last thing he wants is to hurt you more.

"fuck…" his breath comes out in a shaky exhale as he forces himself to calm down, though the fury in his eyes hasn’t diminished.

"you—you're so goddamn stubborn, you know that?" his voice wavers for a second, betraying the vulnerability he’s trying so hard to conceal.

you manage a faint smile despite the pain. "takes one to know one."

his lips twitch, almost forming a smile, but the moment is fleeting as the sound of movement snaps his attention back to the thug behind him. instantly, his entire demeanor changes.

his hand slips away from yours, blue flames surging to life once more, but this time, they’re different—brighter, hotter, more dangerous. the air around him pulses with a terrifying heat, and the ground beneath his feet begins to blacken.

"you think you can touch her and walk away?" dabi’s voice is venomous now, dripping with pure hatred. "I’ll burn you until there’s nothing left."

there’s no mercy in him anymore, no restraint. you can barely keep up with what happens next as he moves in a blur, his flames surging forward like a wildfire.

you can hear the thug’s screams as dabi unleashes the full force of his power, the blue fire consuming everything in its path.

the heat is suffocating, but you can’t look away. you’ve seen dabi angry before, but this is something else entirely.

this is him unhinged, relentless, the raw intensity of his emotions laid bare for the world to see. it’s terrifying and yet… there’s a twisted kind of beauty in it, in how fiercely he fights for you.

in minutes, it’s over.

the alley falls silent, save for the crackling of dying flames, and dabi stands amidst the ashes of what used to be the thug. his chest rises and falls heavily, his skin gleaming with sweat, but his eyes find you immediately.

without a word, he’s back at your side, kneeling down, his hand reaching for yours again. his fingers are still warm, but gentler now, as though he’s scared you’ll break under his touch.

"don’t you ever—" his voice is hoarse, ragged with emotion. "don’t you ever get hurt like that again."

there’s no teasing this time, no snide remark to hide behind. his grip tightens, not enough to hurt but enough to let you know just how much this is affecting him.

he doesn’t want to say the words, doesn’t want to admit just how deep you’ve gotten under his skin, but it’s there, in the way he holds onto you like he’s scared you’ll slip away.

you give his hand a gentle squeeze, offering him the only comfort you can in that moment. "I’m okay, dabi."

his jaw clenches, and he shakes his head. "you’re not. and that’s the problem."

for a moment, he just sits there, staring down at your intertwined hands. his flames have finally receded, the heat dissipating, leaving only the cool night air around you both.

when he speaks again, his voice is quieter, almost vulnerable. "I can’t—" he stops himself, frustration flashing across his face as if the words themselves are too hard to say. "I can’t watch you get hurt. not you."

it’s not an outright confession, but it’s close. as close as dabi can get. and in the way his hand trembles slightly in yours, in the way his gaze softens, just for you, you realize that maybe that’s enough.

for now.

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[with-my-calamitous-love]

OCEAN BLUE EYES / I FEEL LIKE I MIGHT SINK AND DROWN AND DIE ༄

ua! touya todoroki x ua! reader headcanons <3

inspired by gorgeous

- villain touya is a ruthless, cold-hearted maniac. ua, hero-in-training touya is just a prick.

- he’s the kind of student that skips class religiously, but somehow gets amazing grades. he’ll give attitude to anything with legs, including you, but somehow pass every test. he’s also unreasonably competitive, joining about every sports he can make the time for.

- becoming friends with him was inevitable, giving his magnetic field being just a little too strong. at first, he should have taken it as a compliment the way you’d talk to everyone in the room but him. he’s unreasonably gorgeous without even knowing it.

- he’s an asshole, but he’s also funny. he’s the kind of guy that just knows what to say, so fucking cool it makes you hate him so fucking much. he has you feeling like a dumb high school student with a dumb high school crush. because you are.

- little do you know, that feeling is mutual. you’re ruining his life by not being his.

- on the outside, he’s smart, strong, and a great student. on the inside, he’s still got those same battles you’d come to know him for.

- he’s in ua, yes. he’s becoming a hero, yes. but he still wonders if it’ll measure up to what his father wants. sometimes he wonders if he’s doing it for himself, or for the bastard back at home. and though half the reason he’s in ua is to rebel against and piss off his father, he also wonders if he can at least be acknowledged by him.

- during training, he’s thinking about his worth. in class, he’s thinking about who he is. every waking moment spent at school, at home, or alone, he’s terrified of being nothing more than a failure.

- the only time he doesn’t feel like that is with you. which is why he’s so furious when he can’t say anything to your face. how dare you make him feel this way?

- he does the unthinkable, and goes to his mom for advice.

- “touya, you obviously like them.”

- “SHUT THE FUCK UP! sorry, love you.”

- its then you learn more about who he is, beyond just who he’s trying to be. you learn he loves winter, and tries to catch snowflakes on his tongue like a little kid. you learn his favourite meal is soba, and how you learn to make it how he likes it. you learn that he’s an oldest child, and as much as he insists his siblings are pains in his ass, he’ll help natsuo with his math homework, walk fuyumi home from school, and tuck shoto into bed.

- you teach him its okay to just be who he is now. that sometimes, just being happy is the sweetest vengeance against someone who hurt you.

- so you help him pick out his hero name, design his costume and fuel his dreams. he learns that he can be a hero for him. fuck everyone else, as he would say. except you.

- touya becomes your best friend, your ride or die. its this beautiful, parallel universe, one where its possible to save him. one where the light in his soul is nurtured and seen, and one where he’s happy.

- touya todorki is touya todoroki. in every universe, he’ll burn down anyone that gets in his path, whether thats being a villain or a hero. but he’s sure that in every one, you’re there waiting for him.

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚

huge thank you to @sukunaes for helping me with this! i published this a while ago, but for some reason tumblr hid it 💔 but i’ve gotten to rewrite and add some more thoughts! i also have more ua touya stuff in my drafts 🫧❄️🪽🤍🐚🎧

[redr0sewrites]

im a handful (but thats what hands are for)

🍇A/n: the title is a song lyric,,,, iykyk

🍇Cw: smut, dirty talk, praise + degradation, pwp, fingering, riding, breeding kink, a bit of angst???, implied switch!Touya, fem!reader

🍇divider

you and Dabi had always been complete opposites in terms of demeanor. while he was carefree and frivalous, you always prided yourself on being complex and thorough. with the ever burning tension between you two, it was no wonder that you had ended up in the position you were in now- although this was certainly not the first time- pressed down on your bed with one of Japans, no, the worlds most dangerous criminals finger fucking you to hell and back.

"there she is," he whispers, the same words as the first time you'd let him fuck you. "knew there was a pretty little slut under that cold exterior."

you follow your script with practiced expertise, repeating the same words you'd uttered all those months ago- and so did he.

"ffuck you-"

"isn't that what i'm already doing 'ma?"

Dabi was mesmerized with you, to say the least. from the hitch of your breath when he first curled a finger into your pretty cunt, to the soft whines that slowly fill the room with each ministration, followed by the delectable squelch of your pussy as your clit rocks against his knuckles.

it was clear in every sense of the word that he was purely obsessed, almost worshipful- not limited to, but especially in bed.

"yea? y'like that?"

piercing blue eyes watch your every move, keeping careful catalog of every twitch and shudder you make in response to his actions. Dabi's thumb finds your clit with practiced ease, and he rubs swift circles over the sensitive bud.

"Dabi, oh-h, fuck-"

"thats not my name, hun," he coos, leaning down to press an almost condescending kiss to your forehead.

"y'really are worked up, huh? c'mon, we're all alone, you can say it."

"ffuck, Touya!"

"there she is," he smirks, curling his fingers and sliding in a third as you whimper. you can practically see his mind whirling with sawtrap level plans to keep you in bed with him, to finally let him truly be yours. in all the times you both had slept together, you had never fallen asleep beside him, never stayed the night, hell, never even mentioned it outside of the bedroom. it had started off as a challenge, but that soon melted into a raw, desperate, carnivorous need to be yours. Touya had never been wanted, so he rarely even dared to allow himself to want in turn- but fuck, did he want you.

he watches you as you cum like a sheep watches its guard dog, knowing deep down that you could ruin him, sink your teeth into his neck and tear out the remains of his bleeding, broken heart- and yet, the dog stays ever loyal, defending its livestock even at its own expense.

your ability to speak seemed to flee as your orgasm washes over you, sending ripples of pleasure across the planes of your body. all the while Touya continuously pumps his fingers in and out of your dripping cunt, prolonging your pleasure as the world around you fizzes in and out of focus.

"y'alright?" he rasps, pulling his hand away from your sticky cunt- only to lick your release right off his fingers. you make a face and he snickers, and for just a second, you can see a ripple within the veil of time, and instead of one of the most dangerous people in the world, a snarky, beautiful young man is sitting in front of you. that was the difference between Dabi and Touya in your eyes- he could act cold and nonchalant all he wanted, but behind closed doors, he was your Touya.

"you want a taste?" his words pull you from your stupor, and you roll your eyes.

"no thanks, i'm good."

"are you sure? you taste sweet, y'know," he teases, and you laugh in spite of yourself.

"bull."

"don't knock it till ya try it," he snickers, before shifting to stand up. your body reacts without thinking, and you grab his wrist.

"where are you going?" you demand, and he turns to look at you, almost.... surprised.

"i was gonna go get something to clean up, but i guess if you'd rather be covered in your own slick-"

"what about you?" you motion to the obvious strain in his boxers, and he rolls his eyes.

"you worried about me, doll?"

"sit back down."

he obeys almost immediately, your commanding tone wiping the attitude out of his demeanor- but it isn't enough to diminish the teasing smirk off his face.

"why? ya gonna suck me off?"

"no," you murmur as you begin to shift closer until your hovering over him. with one hand, you push him down against the mattress, and he relaxes compliantly, like a ragdoll beneath your fingertips. you look down at him, lust clouding your gaze as he stares up at you with those big, blue eyes.

"then what're you gonna do, ma?" he mumbles, voice noticeably raspier.

"you'll see, Touya. be patient." you continue to hover over him, keeping yourself from fully straddling him just yet. he'd already shed most of his clothes earlier, leaving him bare before you in nothing but his boxers. his cock is already hard, straining up against the thin material of his undergarments.

you take your time to admire the pretty scene laying down in front of you- and pretty it is. his scars are even more defined in the dim lighting, and the streetlights from outside your window illuminate the silvery piercings holding him together.

you had been cursed- or rather, blessed- with intrusive thoughts of tearing them all out one by one with your teeth while he burnt you alive from the inside. it was disgustingly, beautifully gruesome, almost carnivorous, the way you loved- no. lusted for him. you desperately want him to be your undoing- and you, his- but you could never let yourself love him. not when he would never love you. you keep that in mind as you trail a hand over his chest and pectorals, yet your heart pays careful attention of the way his breathing hitches at your gentle touch.

"so pretty," you murmur, before leaning down to press a kiss to the conjunction of his neck and collarbone. Touya practically melts, getting all squirmy and unsure beneath you like he always did whenever you show him any attention.

"shut up," he hisses, but his words hold no bite as he shudders beneath you.

"mhm," you continue your assault on his neck, pressing gentle kisses across the scarred flesh.

"you nervous, Touya?" you tease, and he sucks in a breath.

"i said shut up."

"of course, baby~" you coo, pretending to ignore the strained whine that leaves his mouth at your words. he always got like this after a long day, all compliant and needy, but it was rare that he was this quiet. you indulge his good behavior, and your hands, which were previously exploring his chest, travel down to find purchase on the waistband of his boxers.

"can i take these off?"

"yea," he rasps, lifting his hips up off the mattress to assist you in removing his undergarments. his cock springs free, lightly tapping against his stomach in its erect state. you once again marvel at his complacency, and your heart flutters at how much he trusts you. then your brain tells your heart to shut the fuck up. regardless, you make eye contact with him as you spit into your palm before gingerly running a finger up the side of his aching length, causing Touya to grit his teeth to prevent another whine slipping out.

"don't tease," he grumbles, blue eyes narrowing in adorable irritation. you hum, watching the way his body tenses as you situate yourself above his aching length, aligning him with your entrance. scarred hands tentatively hover over your hips, and he looks up at you almost questioningly. you give a nod of approval and he grabs your soft flesh, rubbing small circles with his thumb over the plush of your hips.

"y'ready?" you mumble, before slowly sinking his tip between your folds. Touya nods breathlessly, watching as your cunt slowly begins to swallow up his length. his tip slowly protrudes into your gummy walls, and you shudder around his size. he's barely halfway in and he's already practicing breathing exercises to keep himself from cumming too early, with the way your squeezing him so tight.

you watch his stomach twitch beneath your hand as you sink further down his length. Touya's head is thrown back, and with every inch engulfed into your aching heat he lets out a few more tantalizing noises. your thighs burn as you finally seat yourself on his cock, with your clit ever so lightly brushing up against his navel as you get situated. you give yourself a second to get used to the slight burn you've associated with having him inside of you, and Touya squirms beneath you as he too struggles to adjust.

slowly but surely, you begin to roll your hips against his, marveling at the way his tip kisses your g-spot. Touya gasps as you raise your hips, almost letting him slip out of you entirely, before slamming yourself back down hard onto his cock. he lets out a strangled moan, squeezing your hips so tight youre sure that they'll bruise.

"yea? y'like that?" you parrot his words from earlier, rolling your hips in a desperate effort to coax out more of his lovely noises.

"ha-ah, fuck, you're so-o tight, 'm not gonna last, m'gonna cum in this pretty pussy," he slurs, looking up at you with hazy eyes.

"yea? s'that what you wanna do Touya? gonna make me yours?"

Touya nods eagerly, rocking his hips up into yours. his thrust hits your g spot perfectly, and you let out a wanton moan. he immediately takes a firm hold of your hips, pistoning his cock up into you again and again, repetitively hitting that spot so deep inside of you.

"you can, y'know." you pant, sweat dripping from your brow.

"huh?"

"cum inside."

Touya sputters something incomprehensible, and you have the audacity to giggle. at him.

"m' on the pill, hun. y'really are worked up, huh?"

Touya lets out a choked moan, recognizing his own words being spat back at him as he rolls his hips impossibly harder against yours. a scarred hand reaches between you both to rub harsh circles on your clit, and you gush, clenching around him at his ministrations.

"i, hah, 'm close- i want you, closer, please," he babbles, wrapping his free arm around your waist and pulling you tight against him. Touya nuzzles into your chest, his lips finding purchase on one of your nipples. your pussy squeezes him tight as he sucks lightly, and his cock twitches once, twice, three times before he cums. he presses down hard on your clit as he spurts inside you, continuing to fuck his release deeper into your spongey walls. those actions alone push you over the edge, and you call out his name as your second orgasm of the night washes over you like a tidal wave.

Touya continues rutting up into you for a few more seconds, prolonging both of your orgasms and pressing sloppy kisses to your chest and collar. he isn't sure what to focus on, or even if he can focus. his mind is fuzzy, filled with you, you, you. nonetheless, your happy to indulge as you paw at his chest, continuing to grind down against him until the pleasure begins to melt into overstimulation. Touya can barely comprehend the fact that you had just let him cum inside of you, and it sparked the possessive side of him that so often reared up in these moments with you.

"o-oh fuck, ffuuuck fuck fuck," he's gasping, cock twitching desperately as he pulls out. cum is dripping down between both of your legs, hot release pooling on the sheets beneath him. you hover over him for a second before collapsing down besides him, and a firm arm wraps around your body, pulling you flush against him. Touya marvels as you melt into his embrace, nuzzling into his neck. if he could cry, he probably would, he wants you insatiably, impossibly close. in this moment, he knows that if he could crawl inside your skin, he would. he would tear out his own burning heart and hand it to you on a silver platter in return for moments like this, where he could be soft, where he could be Touya instead of Dabi.

"shit," you mumble against his skin. "that was... wow. better than ever."

"good enough to make you stay the night?" the words slip out before he can stop them, and he regrets it almost instantly as you tense. fuck his sex-addled brain and his stupid mouth. he's fully prepared for you to immediately get up and leave, but instead, you surprise him like you always do.

"i didn't think you wanted me to stay," you whisper, and he blinks hard.

"f'course i did. i still do."

"..okay. i'll stay."

he can't help the smile that stretches across his face as you snuggle into him deeper.

"on one condition- or maybe two."

his heart sinks.

"we clean up first."

damn.

"and you have to promise that we'll discuss this in the morning. i don't want to keep doing... this. if we're going to continue to sleep together, i want to be, like, more than just friends."

Touya is silent for a moment, and he swears that his heart is beating so loud that the entirety of Japan can hear it. you had just said that. he was sure he must be dreaming.

"really?"

"yes, really. now let me go so i can clean this mess up before it dries!"

"...never. i'm not ever letting go of you ever again."

"ugh, you're such a handful," you grumble, curling into his warmth as he lets out a raspy chuckle.

"i guess you're stuck holding me."

"..yea. guess i am"

hey guys ! im so insane over him actually. he's literally eldest daughter syndrome (me) in the form of a traumatized man (i would not fix him. i support his atrocities. id help him fuck up endeavor.)

ANYWAYS SEND IN DABI/TOUYA OR JUST BNHA ASKS OR THIRSTS PLS

[mamayan]

★SWEET★

Yandere! Dabi x Fem! Darling

Secret Santa 2023 Event!

Word Count: 4k+

Welcome to the Secret Santa Event, hosted by @ectologia (thanks for throwing this together ♡)

My Secret Santa is… @wilderuby ♥️ I hope you enjoy your Christmas present even if it’s not really Christmas themed~

cw: NSFW • Obsessive/Possessive Themes • Fem! Reader • Yandere Themes • Stalking/BNE • Dubcon • Dabi • PIV • Fingering • Praise/Degradation • Kidnapping • Psychological • Dacryphilia

It keeps happening.

No matter how many times you’ve visited the local police station, or how often you knock on the door to your neighbor’s home, you keep finding them.

Innocently resting beside your head when you wake up, whether you sleep in your room, the living room, or even your bathroom, is a single red rose.

Never intact either, the delicate scarlet petals singed in one way or another, to the point now it seems to have become an art form. The dark veins running along inside the thin petals blackened until the rose takes on nearly a new color of ashen burgundy.

You went to the heroes, the police, your friends and family, and yet nothing has come about stopping it.

“It is odd but maybe it’s nothing?” Your friends had said, claiming it was seemingly harmless.

How could it truly be though? You locked your doors, all of them, from the front door to your bedroom door to putting padlocks on the windows. You’d awake to everything intact how you left it, not a single thing out of place… except the addition of a single burnt rose.

It was breaking you down mentally and emotionally at this point. Seemingly being haunted by a ghost, faceless and voiceless, no physical form to blame and scream at. You do scream though, after a year of it occurring despite all efforts—even moving to a new home in a different city. No matter what, when you wake up, there’s a rose. Whether you sleep in a hotel, your friend’s home, your parents, even on the damn subway.

There’s always a fucking rose. Every. single. morning.

It’s to the point where you stopped sleeping, staying up to see with your own eyes if you’re truly insane. You blink and it’s just there, even when you search, and search, and search. A rose, a little crispy, rests in front of you without fail.

It was possibly a new method of torture, but soon enough your nervous system no longer perceived it as a threat. You’d awake to the rose, roll over, and start your day. You stopped mentioning it to family and friends, and eventually it became as normal as breathing. You’d place the roses in a vase, comical at this point, and change them out weekly. A few you even preserved, out of sick humor more than actual appreciation. You’d be certain to mention you wanted no roses at your funeral, at least not red ones, and especially not scorched ones.

You became complacent, as you set your keys down upon entrance to your home, to see an entire bouquet of flowers resting on your kitchen counter. Singed red roses, and one singular black rose in the middle… this time there’s a card. A small folded note about the size of your palm, attached to a silken ribbon wrapped around the thin neck of the vase. Condensation slowly slid down the side of the intricate glass, and for some strange reason, your heart felt dread seeping into its core. Your blood felt icy and your farthest appendages chilled as you shakily lifted the delicate paper up. Several seconds ticked by as perspiration dotted your brow before you eventually sighed and unfolded the note.

Ready to come home, doll?

It was motionless in your home. Deathly silent and still but nonetheless your body shook as tears welled up in your eyes while the foreboding words registered with you. You were home, weren’t you? You knew that much. You also knew you’ve never been called the nickname doll a day in your life, at least by no person you knew.

Was it a joke? Your instincts screamed it wasn’t. You did a pathetic job of staying calm, dropping your keys noisily on the floor as you trembled and dropped to pick them up. You’d leave, stay somewhere else tonight and figure it out in the morning—

“Going somewhere?” You hadn’t head even a footstep. You could see in front of you now a pair a beat up leather boots. Dark jeans lazily bunched up around them with a few nicks and tears in the denim fabric. Your eyes continued up until you were staring at a man.

Bright blue eyes, framed by thick dark lashes, stared down at you. His skin was like patchwork, staples actually pierced through healthy looking flesh while connecting what looked like chard leather to it. His skin you realize after a moment. Some healthy, some burnt, while he stood casually over your crouched form with his hands shoved into the dark trench coat he wore over some ratty band t-shirt. You didn’t watch the news often, hardly ever since your stress was high enough dealing with your own issues, but you knew who this was.

What villain this was.

“Dabi…” you barely even breathed his name, almost inaudible despite your close proximity, but it seemed he heard just fine as a slow forming Cheshire grin spread his lips wide open, revealing his white teeth and sharp canines.

“What’s that doll? Y’look like you’ve seen a ghost, speak up, can’t hear ya down there.”

You were right to feel dread. This was likely the worst scenario possible, one you truly hadn’t even thought of. A notorious villain leaving roses for you? Who’d believe such a ridiculous thing? Even you were struggling to believe it.

“Th-the roses…?”

“Hn? Thought I said speak up.” The waning of his smile shouldn’t have your blood pressure spiking as it did, but you scrambled to speak louder as those violent blue irises blazed.

“Did you—uh, a-are the roses from you?” You slid back, nervous as he stepped forward, eye lids growing heavy as he settled for a smirk on his lips.

“Bingo.” He confirms, not a hint of shame or embarrassment in his laxidazical tone.

You heart hammered against your ribcage, eyes briefly leaving him to look at the bouquet on the counter, mind running faster than a hamster in a wheel. He seems fine just staring at you, expression unreadable besides shallow amusement. He’s giving you time to think, and something in your gut is telling you to tread with caution.

What does it mean to leave roses for over a year for you, every single day? No matter how difficult it was made to do?

Someone in love or someone with a grudge. He doesn’t look the part for either, but the bouquet and strange note having you leaning towards some kind of affection for you. However disturbingly he shows it.

Swallowing thickly, nails scraping on the tile floor, you give a wobbly smile.

“T-they’re very pretty… thank you.”

His eyes briefly widen, head tilting as he observes you with a keener interest than before.

“Yeah? Y’like ‘em, doll?” Doll, that nickname again, you wonder if that’s how he refers to you in his mind. You never likened your appearance to a doll.

You nod with a short jerk, smile still plastered even as your bottom lip wobbles minutely.

“I-I do,” it’s more nerve wracking to be staring up at him from the floor, so you make a show of moving incredibly slow, standing on fawn like legs as you reorient yourself with your own feet again. “You gave me a bouquet this time…” even standing you’re forced to tilt your head back to look at him.

“I did.” He confirms, and the sweat sliding down your spine begins to cool as you shiver. You keep wetting your dry lips, struggling to truly grasp how you’re supposed to get the hell out of this situation.

He seems to visibly enjoy your panic and nervous ticks, watching you pick at your nail bed while he makes you stew in confusion and unanswered questions.

What do you do when the country’s top villain stands in your kitchen? You don’t have a quirk that can compete with him and you sure as hell regret squandering the times your friend encouraged learning some self defense.

He’s not in a hurry it seemed either, leaning a hip against your counter while he continues to observe your every movement. His presence made the space around you appear smaller, like he was sucking the energy from the room.

“Are you…” you look down at your feet, “…going to kill me?”

He snickers, catching your gaze again as it flicks up briefly.

“Nope.” He pops the p with a smile.

You don’t feel relieved.

“Are you going to hurt me?” A better question in all honesty.

“Maybe, probably.” He admits casually, shrugging as if it can’t be helped.

Then the best question for the evening, one still festering in your mind, “Why me?”

The air shifts, the scent of smoke like a campfire, wafting over to you.

“Asked myself that question a lot,” he stands up straight, removing his hands from his pockets. He ignores your flinch, coming closer even as you backed up into the counter. “Asked what the fuck is so special ‘bout you,” he jabs a finger into your chest, eyes flaring as he immediately flattens his palm and lays it over your heart. “To make me like this.”

He smells like campfire and something with chemical undertones, his breath held traces of menthol and tobacoo.

“Y’know what conclusion I came to sweetheart?” The way he said sweetheart was laced with venom.

He’s so close you can feel the heat radiating off him.

“W-what?” You don’t really have an option but to ask. He looks manic, languid expression sharpening into something dark and terrifying as he smiles.

“That it doesn’t fuckin’ matter. That I can do whatever the fuck I want, when I want, how I want. Not you, the heroes, or the shitty cops can do a damn thing to stop me.” He leans back, face melting again into something akin to pure satisfaction.

“Why you? It’s your own fault, doll, should’ve tried harder not to catch my attention, don’t’cha think?” It’s like he’s mocking you, eager to get a rise from you as anger and humiliation burned in your soul.

You shook in rage. Fists clenched at your sides as you urged the tears in your eyes away. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry like this.

“You’re a fucking asshole.” He laughs as you bite out the insult, a deep belly laugh, nearly doubling over as if you’d told the funniest joke possible.

“Wrong move,” he fakes at wiping a tear, eyes crinkling at the corners before your scalp is suddenly on fire, a gasp yanked from your lips as you're hauled up and back to the floor. “Said I’d probably hurt ‘ya, didn’t think you’d sass me so early. That’s okay, I’m good at breaking people, fix that mouth real quick.” He murmurs, as if he’s not using your hair like a lead and making the tears you’d fought back so hard earlier fall.

“Hurts!” You grunt, now putting up a decent struggle as you fight back.

He ends that quick with a flick of his palm, blue flames lighting up your darkened kitchen and striking horror into your soul as he waves it around in your face.

“Think I won’t do it ‘cuz I won’t kill ‘ya?” He asks, his eyes matching the flames he produces, filled with a sick sort of glee.

“I’ll make your face look like mine if you keep acting up.” That shuts you down quickly, going limp even as he releases your hair to grip your arm, dragging you through your home with confidence to where everything is, going straight to your bedroom.

“W-wait—! Dabi please, I-I’m sorry,” he stops in your doorway, looking down at you with over-exaggerated sympathy.

“Poor thing,” he coos, no less gentle as he drags you to the bed and pushes you down. It’s a gentle landing, but your panic gives you energy as you try to quickly crawl away. He grips your ankle, his palm heating so quick you hardly realize you’d been burned until you screech, teeth clenched tight as you struggle to even breathe. It hurts so much.

Your will to fight ends as he climbs above you, shrugging off the trench coat and yanking his t-shirt over his head while grinning at you.

“Too early for cryin’ doll, that one won’t even scar.” He looks disappointed by that fact. “Now, I can be nice ‘n sweet if you’ll be good for me…or I can push your fucking face in the mattress and take you like a filthy whore. Pick or I’ll pick for you.” His shift in tone as he tells you to choose how he’s going to rape you instills a strange sort of hopelessness inside you.

He doesn’t care when the water works start up again, rolling his eyes as he watches you weep and tremble like he’s done anything worth crying over yet to you.

“Well babydoll? I’m so fuckin’ hard right now you won’t like the choice I make for you.”

“Sweet…” you’re all curled up like a kitten doused in water beneath him.

He’s unbuckling the belt around his hips, tugging the denim down and his boxers along with it as he grunts.

“C’mere” he all but growls, yanking you up again and pulling at your clothing, quick and efficient in stripping you despite your actions mimicking the nickname he’s given you. Acting like a doll in his embrace as he tosses each article of clothing you wore off to the floor until you were down to your bra and panties. He’s yanking at your bra first, eyes greedily drinking you in as he leaves your top bare finally.

You sniffle pathetically, any attempt at hiding yourself useless as he uses his knees to knock yours open, fitting himself in between as he messily licks two fingers and shoves aside your panties to rub at your folds.

“Hgn!” Your eyes open wide as he crassly works two fingers into your dry cunt, his saliva barely enough to grant him access to the tight confines. “D-Dabi—,” your nails are digging into his arms, tearing at a seam of staples and causing a few small trails of blood to stream, but he’s too focused on you to truly mind.

“Y’asked for sweet doll, means you need to relax and let me in,” he explains, like he’s not stretching you open and jabbing his thick digits inside you despite your weak protests and groans of pain.

Your body gives way to the intrusion after a few minutes, adrenaline fading and leaving you almost exhausted as your cunt lubricates itself to ease his passage.

“There ‘ya go,” he murmurs almost hoarsely, letting you go when he sees you’re being obedient enough and using that freed hand to grip his leaking cock.

Your eyes track his movement, watching him grasp the thick appendage hanging heavy between his legs.

You note before even his size the piercings, not just one or two but a multitude lined his cock like a weapon more than a sexual organ.

Dabi notes the hitch in your breath and where your eyes lay, proudly running his thumb over the ladder of piercings up the spine of his shaft to the tip where two small stainless steel balls rested.

“Scared?” He teases, relaxing himself as he jerks his cock and relieves a little of the ache which had been building in his balls. Curling his fingers up, you gasp in surprise at the pleasant feeling which accompanies the action.

“Nah, you ain’t scared, doll. Not a coward, y’would’ve run a long time ago but you stayed ‘cuz you like this. You like knowing someone is out there willing to do anything to have you,”

“I don’t—,” he cuts you off with a sharp thrust up, pressing into the rough textured spot along your gooey walls.

“Shh, y’should know I don’t like liars, especially not ones who get exposed by their cunt dripping all over the bed.” His smile is filthy, lecherous gaze running along your sweaty exposed skin as he just keeps hitting that spot inside which makes your toes curl.

“P-please stop, Dabi I can’t—,”

“Still lying?” He asks, more amused than angry as you try your best to twist away from the pleasure now wracking your body.

“How’s this doll? You drop the Dabi bullshit n’say Touya when you’re about to cum, okay? Y’listening?” He stops working himself over, freeing his hand again to tap your cheek and catch your clouded watery gaze.

“Try it out.” He orders softly, sweetly, like he’s trying to be gentle but the way his fingers fuck you is anything but sweet or kind. The loud lewd squelching exactly as he said earlier, a confession to how much your body at least enjoyed his careless attention.

You huff, mouth opening to choke on a moan as he adds another finger, fingers wrapping around his wrist where they attempt to halt the sudden oversensitivity inside you.

If anything he jams his fingers inside you harder.

“T-Touya!” You hope he’ll stop. Hope he ends this strange psychological torture as your stomach coils up tight.

He doesn’t, Dabi merely groans in delight and chuckles over you, leaning down to slot his lips over yours in a kiss as messy as he’s making you down below.

His soft top lip is contrasted by the rough feeling of his bottom, but his kiss is hot and you can taste the menthol now. His scent is strong, and you catch a hint of his natural odor beneath the smoke and tobacco. Your cries are silenced by his lips, his tongue slipping into your mouth when you open to complain. You shiver as you feel the drag of a piercing on his tongue, the light touch somehow more erotic. He parts sloppily, saliva connecting your lips for a moment before you flinch as he spits in your mouth.

“Open your fucking mouth.” The tone he uses and language are harsh, and you tearily do as instructed. “Stick out your tongue.” He murmurs a bit more nicely this time, humming in approval as you obey with shaky hesitation.

You won’t hesitate soon enough, if he has anything to do about it. He’ll make his words gospel in your cute brain and have you eager to listen to his every command.

Dabi lets his spit hit your tongue slowly, watching you pant like a dog with your tongue out as he brings you closer and closer to your release. The way your walls clamp around his fingers and constrict makes his cock weep to sink inside you already. “Touya—!”

You cum when he finally allows you to swallow, gushing and throwing your head back while he fucks you through it, laughing as you tense up and beg for mercy and try to escape the pleasure he’s delivering relentlessly.

“Good fuckin’ girl, say my name baby, let me hear it.” Dabi nearly loses it himself watching you shatter, eyes wide and wild as he keeps going. “Touya pl-please…hn!” You keen almost like you’re in pain, fingers digging into his shoulders now while your legs kick out.

“Y’asked for sweet, doll, means you get to cum as much as you want tonight.”

That wasn’t what you’d thought it meant, even as you choke and cum again, this time more softly as he slows his furious pace to something manageable now.

Dabi smiles at the fucked out expression you now wear, pliant in his hold as he maneuvers your body, hoisting your legs up and pressing them to your chest as you whimper in protest.

“You can stay nice ‘n pretty like this doll, doing so good f’me.” He’s not very assuring as he murmurs to you while positioning the weapon he’s armored on his cock at your dripping entrance, tapping his tip a few times on your puffy clit as you moan and twitch, view perfect to watch how he slicks himself up. “T-Touya…” he moans as he catches on your entrance only to slip up, eyes looking at your face as he licks his lips and tries again, enjoying the soft warm feeling of rubbing on your cunt.

“Yeah doll? Need somethin’?” He grins, his cock finally breaching that tight ring of muscle that lets him sink into your hot welcoming depths. “Fuck, been dreaming ‘bout this cunt for so long. Y’know how many times I’ve had to just cum on your sleeping face instead of fucking you? All the times I could’ve just woken you up and had you?” He moans, laughing at the horrified and almost strangled look you gave him, his chest vibrating with a laugh as you mewl like a cat in heat when the first row of piercings sinks into you. “Like ‘em baby? Fuckin’ looks like you do, they feel good in your little pussy?” He moans again when you accidentally bare down on him, the tightness increasing painfully as you whine when his piercings dig in too much.

“Easy doll, let me in,” he murmurs, dark hair falling into his face as he braces above you with one arm, lithe muscles taunt as he works his hips a little at a time into you, enthralled with how you fit around him enough not to slam himself inside all at once.

When the top balls of his piercings kiss up against your cervix, you’re ruined, face a mess as you struggle to adjust to the stretch and sensations.

“S’too much, Touya—” you can only cling to him, eyes drawn to where he’s sunk his entire fat cock into your depths, the way your body contorted giving you the best view.

Your words have the opposite effect though, his groan guttural as he drags himself out, drunk on the feeling of your pussy and lost to it.

“Keep sayin’ my fuckin’ name, lemme hear ‘ya scream babydoll,” you go to protest again, when he slams each inch back into you, the ribs along his cock now working in tandem with his thrusts, effectively shutting you up as you squeal and dig your nails into his shoulders for purchase.

Dabi fucks you hard and deep, speed unnecessarily to keep the air from your lungs as each thrust feels like it’s hitting up in your stomach, the pain and pleasure blending until you aren’t sure if it truly hurts or not.

He sets a steady rhythm, watching your body shake each time he lets his hips fall like a hammer, seeing his cock swallowed each time by your greedy cunt until he’s delirious at the sight.

“Pretty fucking slut, look how your pussy takes me.” He’s spewing filth at you, but when it should offend, it instead makes you burn hotter, his name falling from your swollen pouty lips like a chant.

“This cunt want me to breed it? Fill your pussy full until you can’t take anymore?” You shake your head in denial, unable to truly form words anymore as he picks up his pace, fucking you hard enough to make your headboard slam into the wall. Each thrust accompanied by a symphony of wet slapping, his balls tapping your ass each time his groin kisses your own. “Bet it does, huh doll? This greedy little cunt keeps begging for more.” He loves the dichotomy between your sloppy pussy and the way you shake your head. “No? Y’sure doll? Think it does. Don’t like lyin’ baby, remember? You want me to punish you?” You shake your head again, a bit frustrated when he slows, letting you feel all of him inside you like this, his weight keeping you pinned.

“Shakin’ your head ain’t an answer doll, I’ll be nice ‘n give you another chance, but I expect a fucking a verbal answer this time.” He’s like a light switch. Either on or off but much more terrifying when he flips it on, eyes and voice menacing as you cough and answer in a husky voice. You don’t want to test him on the punishment, truly you don’t, as your ankle still fully throbs in the back of your mind as a reminder of what he’s capable of and who he is.

“I-I like h-how you do it now…” he cocks a brow, sinking deep and then pressing even further so you whine and try to push back further into the bed.

“Y’like how I’m fuckin’ you now? That it, doll?” You go to nod before remembering his warning, swallowing thickly and voicing a soft agreement.

“Hmm… then y’oughta say it, right? Tell me how good I’m fuckin’ this pussy.” He growls, bright blue eyes lighting up as you moan, his pace increasing again as you blabber out whatever nonsense you can to satisfy him. Whatever would make him be sweet, because you have a feeling you don’t want him any other way.

“S-so good! Mhn, f-feels so good Touya, pl-please, ah,” he’s being too rough, your eyes watering and tears spilling as he drills into you, but even still you feel yourself close to coming again as those piercings rub perfectly inside you.

Dabi lifts up, letting your legs fall to either side of him as he grips both your hips tight and fucks you more aggressively. Jackhammering into your gummy walls like he’s eager to imprint the shape of his cock inside you, mouth open and brows furrowed while he groans feeling you tense up again, this time around his dick.

“T-Touya—! M’coming, oh fuck—!” You look painfully suprised when you realize how much it all becomes as you cum, the peircings becoming more prominent as you spasm and clamp down on him, eyes rolling back as your vision slightly blurs.

“Yeah y’are doll, fuck, that feel good? Looks like it did.” He chuckles, chest swelling with a deep satisfaction as he fucks you harder despite your weak whines, overstimulated cunt begging for a break despite how he bullies himself inside you.

“Tell me where you want it,” he’s close, panting and overheating even as he nears his end.

“N-not inside…” he laughs at the soft reply, thrusts only getting deeper as he resorts to simply humping into you for friction after you tighten up so much it hurts to go harder.

“Can’t pull out though doll, look how tight you’re gripping my cock.” You aren’t paying attention, mindlessly moaning as he finally gasps and cums, cock twitching deep inside you and filling you up despite your earlier request.

He nearly collapses on you, chest rising and falling quickly as he regains his breath and relaxes on your soft chest for a moment to recouperate.

When he’s caught his breath, he leans up, slowly pulling out and watching his heavy load immediately spill from your hole.

“Tsk,” he uses two fingers to scoop up what dribbled out, stuffing it back into you as you sleepily huff and press a hand against his chest.

You’re helpless to stop him, too exhausted to fight more and figuring it better to let him have his way than risk his wrath right now.

Once he’s satisfied he’d stuffed you back up well enough, Dabi is quick to leave the bed and begin redressing, speaking casually with you despite your lack of answering.

You watch the villain act as if nothing had occurred, face the same smug arrogant grin when you’d first spotted him.

It’s when he returns his attention to you that fear begins to trickle back into your blood stream.

He seems to notice too, smile growing with your apprehension.

“Now doll,” he crosses back to where you’ve sat up and covered yourself with a blanket, weary gaze locked with his.

“Ready to come home?”

Then it’s dark, your vision going out with your consciousness as Dabi catches you in his arms, dragging your limp figure from the bed and into his arms quickly.

He’s kind enough to wrap you in a sheet as he takes your house keys and phone, shoving them in his pocket as he leaves your place with you in his embrace.

He whistles on his way home, a bit eager to see your expression when you wake.

He figures you’ll learn to like your new home once you realize you’re never leaving it.

He even decorated for the season, the tree a little burnt but he’s sure you’ll appreciate the sentiment.

Dividers/@cafekistune

[plexivie]

who will y/n be tonight? (that's the question)

dabi x reader (x hawks?!) miniseries 😼

[captainshindo]

Guys hear me out!!!

Any genius writers write something about grumpy!Bakugou x sunshine! fem reader??? (I’m a horrible writer)

She wears anything cute, like her dorm is all pink and white, her makeup popping, outfits top tier and she’s like the most sunshine person out of the class! Even Aizawa has a soft spot for her, so she often get out of trouble :’)

And maybe add a little fun tea time with principal Nezu ??? :0

The point is idk make something about bakugou going crazy cause everyone stealing his cutie girlfriend from him and barely have time to hang out with her lol

PLS PLS ANYONE WRITE SOMETHING

[summercreolefanfictioner]

all on my tongue I want it || ua! touya x recovery girl! y/n

(shoujo touya todoroki save us all)

summary: in which you saved your first kiss for a certain cremation quirk user

note: I didn't edit anything bcos I wrote this on a whim

Honestly, it was a miracle you got into UA in the first place. While there were probably more students who held more promising skills that could battle against villains, yours was just the typical. Well, not really; it could be a valuable asset in the least. After all, you inherited a healing quirk similar to Recovery Girl. Many people thought your healing lies with your kisses, but the truth is, it was a lot different than what people make it out to be.

You see, you can heal people with just a touch, hence why some would constantly try to take hold of a finger or two. This made you alert and conscious of people around you, though, because sometimes, some of them would just make an excuse to harass you. And it's so unfair considering how you're just a girl thriving in this world full of scums who apparently have no idea about invasion of privacy and spacial distance.

And on the topic of your healing kisses, well... let's say, it was your most powerful shot. Your healing kisses can heal people much faster than your touch can do. Heck, it can even stop someone from an almost death (depending on the circumstances, of course). You have only tried your kisses to your parents when you were young, so when some boys of your age would try to take your most precious golden kiss in disguise of a bruised knee or a bloody cut, you immediately back away and wish this wasn't the quirk bestowed upon you.

The downside of this quirk was painful though. You can't tell anyone that aside from healing the wound, you take the pain away when you heal them. So, let's say, if you heal your friend who scraped her knee from falling down the stairs, you manage to close up the wound. However, you will feel the pain she felt when she fell down and the sting of the bruise left on her. Some of the pain were minimal; some of them rendered you to sleep for days until you were also healed.

Todoroki Touya was another different story in your life, and you were foolish enough to like the oldest son of the number 2 pro hero, Endeavor. You two were in different classes (obviously) and the first time you watched him in the sports festival, you were captivated with the way he fought despite being so foul-mouthed and sarcastic yet nonchalant as he stood against his opponent and burned him in one go. In your head, it was all, "The movement was so smooth. He watched the opponent carefully before landing his mark without burning too much. He controlled his fire even though it's a lot stronger than his father's. So amazing." And that was how you found yourself, constantly trying to secretly regain your breathing whenever you pass by him in the hallway, pretending you didn't harbor those feelings of crush for him and how you got it so bad you swore you could die of heart attack if one day he touched you or stared at you so intense with those blue eyes.

Then come one day, you got involved with him. You were in the school garden, reading one of those books about enhancing your healing quirk when you secretly saw a fight break out between him and this one senpai with his friends. The reason? Touya was arrogant because Endeavor was his father, and apparently, kind of stole his girlfriend (or at least, according to his claim because Touya said he has no idea who the girl was anyway). Of course, Touya had the upperhand, but you could see how small patches of burnt skin started showing around. That's when you knew the downside of his quirk despite the fact that he still carried the same ice quirk that his mother had.

When senpai and his friends were distracted, you seized this chance to grab him and you two ran as far and as fast as you could despite his protest that you let him go, hiding in one of those empty science labs. Suddenly, Touya noticed the burns earlier were gone. It was like his skin was brand new. That's when you quickly pulled away.

"Sorry, I..." you stumbled for words. "I noticed your skin was burning due to your fire so I healed it."

Touya narrowed his eyes in confusion, scratching his head. "Healed?" he repeated, analyzing what you said before making a face of realization. He heard his classmates gush about this one cute girl from Class C with a healing quirk. They went on to say, "They said she can heal just by a touch, and her best power move would be a kiss." Of course, there were perverts who hypothesized, performing intercourse with her would be the best healing method. Gah, how disgusting they were.

"You didn't have to bother," he muttered in annoyance, gritting his teeth as he looked away. Touya was prideful, and he wasn't weak enough to let a medic girl like you help him.

You breathed out in pain, feeling the burning sensation he had earlier. Gosh, it was so hot you were thankful it didn't mar your skin. When he noticed your expression, he asked worriedly, "Did I burn you?"

You shook your head, assuring him. "N-Not really. This is just a side effect of my quirk. I can feel the pain you felt from your wound. That's all. I won't get your scars earlier or what," you explain with a smile. "I guess you endured all this before you could use your quirk, right? That's so brave of you, Todoroki-kun. I wish I was that strong."

That was how you caught his eye, and since then, he has been teasing you nonstop and trying to touch you like how a boyfriend does to his girlfriend (not because he was in dire need of healing.) You could even say he had claimed you publicly and made sure no one would dare touch you. He was a menace, and if he found out someone tried to take advantage of your quirk or you used your quirk on someone else, he will raise hell. Like literally. His cremation quirk wasn't made for him for no reason. He would go on to say that you were his, and you almost died of cardiac arrest when you heard him yell that for the first time at the hallway. Yes, the same place where everyone could spread gossip on how Endeavor's oldest son made the medic girl from Class C his girlfriend.

You liked the attention obviously. After all, you fell for him so bad that even his annoying cheap tricks to touch or hug you so close were getting you to have those heavy drumbeats in your chest and the way the butterflies would come swarming. He was a criminal, stealing your heart like that, and you were committing sin by just indulging this attention and meekly telling him not to tease you so much or let you go even though you yourself was not pulling away from his grasp. Your hypocritical self wanted more of Todoroki Touya that even his mischievous and cunning person was enough to make you swoon.

But mostly, he would trick you into kissing him just because he found out you purposely did not give your first kiss to anyone. You were quick to retort that first kisses were special, and you didn't want to give your first one just for medical reasons. "I want my first kiss to be romantic," you mumbled shyly, cheeks blushing. Gah, the ground should swallow you whole now. "I want it to happen while I'm on a date with the person I love, or even during our wedding."

"That long?" Touya complained. "You'd be a granny if you keep that up."

"I don't care! My lips are off limits until I say so."

Touya snickered, ruffling your hair and purposely messing it even though you spent hours doing it just so you would look cute for him. You were cute alright. You just didn't know his emotionally constipated teenage ass was jealous that the others were looking at you so much.

"T-Todoroki-kun! My hair!"

"Well, I wouldn't mind if you were a granny, Y/N." He stuck out his tongue teasingly, his silver piercing peeking through. "As long as you're mine."

You could only pout, realizing he wasn't that serious at all. You like him, but his teasing jokes aren't equivalent of real love confessions. You needed to hear him say he likes you in a serious way, not in this kind of joking way because if you could easily believe everything, then it would only be a recipe for a broken heart. You didn't want to nurse a broken heart, after all.

This charade went on until third year, and there were instances when you almost gave in, the cherry flavor of your lip balm fresh on your lips as he almost kissed you for many times yet you were interrupted. It was either one of you wasn't able to get the timing right or someone dared interrupt the romantic setting or you would suddenly get nervous and realize you weren't ready at all. You would miss your chance and get depressed you wished you could've went ahead and confessed first. This way, he would be aware because things were getting too real you were in this delusion like "maybe he really likes me too but is just shy so he jokes around?"

That was all until—

"Pro Hero Medic Girl. You are requested to assist in [location]. Pro Hero Medic Girl. You are requested to assist in [location.]"

It was the usual greeting of the intercom as you readied yourself for the worst case scenario. There's a killer villain on the loose, someone who had a grudge and wanted to destroy the world with him. As you prepared for the worse, you felt your heart grow heavy at the next words.

"Pro Hero Medic Girl. You are requested to assist Pro Hero Frost Flame. He doesn't have much longer."

Frost Flame. It was Touya's hero name.

You quickly rushed to his side and learned the villain stabbed him in the stomach as he made his final hit. Touya still got the victory, but at what cost? There was still a chance for him, but the thing was, the nearest hospital was far from your current location, and Touya already needed assistance or he won't be able to make it.

He was lying on the ground, almost lifeless as he tried to stop the bleeding in futile attempts with the ice quirk he has yet to master. You couldn't afford to lose him, not when you haven't told him your feelings. He knew you wanted the romantic first kiss, the fireworks, the warm sunset, the works, and everything. But what good would all they be if he was gone, though? Touya was more important than your romantic dream.

"I will kiss him," you announced to the pro heroes boldly. "My quirk will give him life, but we'll need to take him to the hospital quick afterwards."

They stepped aside to give room for you as you laid Touya's head on your lap, his consciousness almost fading away as he could only see a blurry vision of you caressing his face gently. A few teardrops from your eyes fell on his skin, and you tried to calm yourself. This was no time for sappy moments. You have to save him. You can save all the words later.

"Y/N..." Touya tried to make out your name, his voice hoarse as you took his hand in yours. "D-Don't..."

"It's okay now," you whispered. "Just let me."

It felt like time has stopped to witness this moment, your lips finally crashing down against his softly. You weren't given experience but you made sure to put passion in it so you would be able to convey your feelings for him. It made your heart race the moment you felt him try to reciprocate your deed but to no avail. It was fine for you, though. He's the one who needed healing, not you.

"Y-Y/N..."

"I know this is not the right time, but I had to," you explained to him, his head still on your lap as you kissed his forehead, "and it's because I love you, Touya-kun."

And after a few moments, you felt your vision going hazy, the stabbing sensation in your stomach growing deep as you felt the burning pain. It was completely draining your energy, trying to hold out as Touya coughed out to signify his sign of life.

Everything went black.

------

You woke up to a breathtaking, orange sunset view from your window after 3 days in the hospital, and when you look to your side, Touya was there, sitting on the couch and donning a straight and serious face. Judging from the way he moved towards your and sat on your bedside, it seemed that he has already healed from the damage he took from his previous battle.

"Todoroki-kun!" you greeted in relief. "You're okay now."

You expected him to smile and tease you as usual, but somehow, he looked kind of bitter and regretful. You were confused. Shouldn't be happy at least? You kissed him. You professed your love to him finally. Why was he looking at you like that?

Then it dawned on you. Perhaps he felt indebted to return it back. Maybe it was just you imagining things. Maybe he really didn't feel the same. Maybe he just went along because of the moment, not because of you. If that was the case, you would really be devastated.

"Shouldn't you be calling me by my name?" Touya corrected with an angry tone. "You called me 'Touya' back there."

You blushed so hard. So he remembered. "Uhh... I—"

"And your first kiss?" He finally mentioned the topic. Touya wanted to avoid it, but he needed to settle this once and for all. He knew there will come a time when you'll heal someone in need and experience the same thing over and over. The best thing he could do was take this chance. "I thought you said you'll only give it during a romantic date with someone you love or during your wedding."

"Yes, I—"

"Then why did you give it to me at the battlefield?" Touya winced at his harsh tone, reminding himself that he was speaking to you, and that the last thing he wanted was hurt you and let this drag on. "You could've made your dream happen. I could've made them all happen. You didn't have to—Fuck!" He loathed everything. Why did everything turn out this way? "You didn't have to share my pain and sleep here for 3 days!"

So that's what it was. He was worried you wouldn't make it out alive given how grave his wounds were. You bet he barely got any sleep and he wouldn't leave your side until you awaken because he was worried about your wellbeing. And deep down, maybe he was thinking he missed his chance to confess. You wanted to be delusional. That must be it. He was not giving his usual pranks. There was no sarcasm. He was being the boyish Touya that no one knew about.

You held his hand. "It's true. I've always wanted that romance dream," she affirmed then added, "but when I heard about your condition, I just couldn't—" the tears were now flowing, the waterworks you held back were showing itself to him, "I couldn't imagine a life where you're gone too soon. You can't leave me like that, not when I haven't told you how much I've fallen for you since our sports festival during our first year."

You felt his fingers wiping your tears, trying his damnest to be cautious or he might burn your skin. Touya hated it when you cry, after all. "Is that true? You like me? You love me enough to give your first kiss to me?"

"You idiot!" You pouted. "At this stage, and I even confessed to you!" You bet the other pro heroes at that time must have heard your declaration of love. Maybe Endeavor would find out about his son's love life sooner than expected, after all.

Now the smug smile was back on his face, and you wanted to wipe it off so bad. The nerve of him. "I just wanna make sure because there's no taking backsies, Y/N."

"Jerk."

"You love this jerk unfortunately," he joked, finally getting close to you as he kissed your forehead.

This wasn't the most picture perfect scenario. You were on your hospital bed and he was sitting near you, his hand caressing your cheek as the sunset turned into a more vivid orange in the background. It was warm, or maybe it was his quirk? You didn't bother knowing as you noticed how he flushed so hard but did not shy away from you like how you would expect a teenage boy in love would do. This moment would do. You just hoped for the best.

"I love you, Y/N," he whispered, leaning hus face towards yours as he rubbed his thumb across your lips. "Let me give you a taste of your own medicine."

Ah. You were in heaven when he kissed you.

PS. Fuyumi took a secret picture of you kissing Touya while Natsuo covered Shouto's eyes and mouth.

tagging: @rueclfer @crookedherringcolorclod @suksatoru @skiiyoomin @allurearia @m-4399 (bcos I wanna spread dabi love huhu)

[the-masked-ram]

Blurred Lines- Chapter Two

CW: NSFW, College AU, Roommate AU, Dom/Sub Undertones, Gambling, Friends with Benefits, Enemies to friends, Hate sex, Impact play, Mild Breath play, Drugs, Alcohol, afab! reader

---

Chapter Two: Ground Rules

The apartment was amazing honestly. It definitely needed cleaning; it looked like an upscale bachelor pad. There were old food containers, dirty clothes lying around, and you didn’t want to know when he last dusted. But it wasn’t too much for you. You’d roomed with people, paid for places that were far more of a dump than this. You could see everything waiting for you underneath the mess.

The visit to the apartment made you eager to sign the lease. You couldn’t figure out why Touya seemed so happy with it. If he could afford a place like this, couldn’t he afford a maid service? But you wouldn’t question it anymore. You couldn’t afford to. This was your golden ticket to surviving college.

Two weeks later, after signing your lease, you were moving in. Heavy boxes weighed your arms as you climbed the stairs over and over. Your new roommate was nowhere to be seen after letting you inside, doing no more than pressing your shiny new key into your hand and walking off into the depths of the apartment. A glare found its way onto your face quickly. The only hope you had of moving the larger items was that Bakugou and Kirishima had offered to help.

You couldn’t let them help any more than that, despite their offers to help you finish. Your peace of mind would have forced you to thank them by buying food or paying them for their time, neither of which you could do right now. So, with a tight smile you waved them away as they reluctantly loaded up and you finished moving the boxes up far too many flights of stairs yourself.

By the end you were exhausted. Sweating badly despite the shorts and thin tank top you wore. However, all you could think of was how you were now moved into your new place, you were home. You had a key of your own, and the boxes filling your new room gave you a sense of renewal. Like this was a fresh start. With a deep breath you started the slow process of unloading your clothes. So right now, it was just you and some music to keep you company as you put stuff away until it was time for work. It wasn’t until an hour had likely passed, and you were far into unpacking, singing at the top of your lungs and still relatively poorly dressed in those cheeky shorts and that small tank top, that you heard the clearing of his throat. You started, blinking as you glanced over to Touya leaning lazily against your doorframe. His eyes lingering on your legs.

His gaze didn’t move, though he had to notice your attention on him. It lingered like a burning flame, stroking across your exposed skin. It caused goosebumps to rise and your stomach to squirm. Your bare foot hooked around your ankle as you tried to catch his attention another way. You cleared your throat and slowly, so achingly slow, his blue gaze flickered up your body, you duck your head nervously and murmured, “Ah, Todoroki. Sorry, was I loud?”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, “Alright, first thing, call me Touya, I fucking hate my family name.” He shoved off the frame and stalked into your room, you immediately stepped back as he said, “Next thing, we should go over some house rules and a schedule for when you can and can’t do things.”

He didn’t answer your question, but you wondered if perhaps the fact your music had been cranked up to an ungodly level had been exactly what prompted his desire for the ‘rules’ talk. You shivered in front of him, but it wasn’t from fear, it was from the way his eyes wouldn’t leave you. It was from the way they seemed to be snagging your soul and ripping it out through your chest. He was too much to look at like this. You couldn’t be this close to him. It felt like all the air was taken from the room. Like he was taking up the entire space. So, you did the only thing you could do, you nodded desperately, eyes wide, unable to glance away from him for a second. Unable to even blink. “Fucking cute,” he mumbled with an appreciative smirk curling his pierced lips.

He turned on his heel and left, only stopping long enough to glance back over his shoulder at you and tap his knuckle on the doorway. Once he was gone it was like a crushing weight on your chest was swept away too. You gasped in air greedily. Geeze, what was it about that man? Touya seemed to exert this oppressive pressure whenever he was in the room. You were never able to look away nor directly at him, or get near him, and he liked to push your boundaries in the most delicious way.

A way that had your thighs squeezing and your walls fluttering. Slick lined your panties, and you hated it, hated that somehow knew just how much you lusted for his gaze despite the way it made you nearly turn inside out. You also dreaded the fact that you now needed to face him after making such a fool of yourself. He was sitting on a recliner when you walked into the living room, one foot brushing the floor while the other was flung lazily over the arm. Scrolling through his phone with a look of disinterest, he glanced up once you entered, but took his time giving you his full attention, as he started typing something. You weren’t as irked as when he hadn’t been there to help unload. Though you weren’t sure if you had the right to be upset about that. He had never said he would do that. Perhaps you should feel more upset now, especially since he’d called you out here to talk to you. But also, this gave you a moment to observe him. It gave you a moment to get used to his presence without feeling suffocated.

So, you perched on the edge of the couch, waiting for him to finish, and glancing around at the sparse living room.

“You look like you’re about to take off at any time, like you might break. Like a little porcelain doll,” he let that word sit and roll over your spine, until you finally chanced a momentary glance at him. “Relax, babe. Nothing bad is gonna happen.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes, but avoided looking at him directly for too long, which only made his grin turn into a lopsided smirk. He knew just like you did that your moment of bravery was a bluff. His eyes raked your form with languid heat, his tongue slipping out to roll over his lip ring. You wondered how that tongue would taste? Immediately balking at how eagerly your lust laden thoughts had turn salacious. “Alright, little thing, you said you work Monday for six hours and then another ten hours the rest of the week spread out. Otherwise, it’s just your night classes?” the way his tone turned sharp and business-like had you snapping to attention, focusing on his words intently. You nodded, “Yeah, and I can cook your dinner ahead of time on nights I may be gone, to you know have some homemade pre-frozen meals, in case you didn’t want to order.” Your hand rubbed across the flesh of your thigh over and over, dimpling the flesh. Touya’s eyes drifted downward to follow the movement with a lazy intensity you didn’t think was possible. Your fingers curled into your palm and your nervous tick stopped almost instantaneously. He chuckled before turning back to the matter at hand. “Well, aren’t you helpful?” he patronized. “That’s very sweet. But I figured you’d make me lunch for every day of the week, and then three to five nights a week you could do dinner based on your schedule. I don’t eat breakfast.” Your eyes darted to the side only to then slide towards him under lowered lashes, hoping to shield yourself from the way he was staring at you, and nodded, “Ok. And I’ll do your laundry and keep this place spotless.” His grin stretched, “Don’t promise things that are impossible, babe.” Sighing, he leaned his head back on his shoulders before fixing you with a harsh and serious gaze. His relaxed posture changed, everything in him stiffened and he narrowed his eyes at you. There was something in him that changed from a relaxed predator to a dangerous beast. He was vicious right now, whatever he said next, he wouldn’t accept no as an answer. “W-what?” you asked, fidgeting. “Now to go over the rules. These are blanket rules and will affect both of us. Always knock-on bedroom doors and bathroom doors before entering, first one up makes the coffee, label your food if you don’t want it eaten, if you break it you replace it. This one is my personal rule for you, don’t come out of your room when I have a party,” he nearly snarled the last one and you saw a glimmer of how dangerous Touya could be if you crossed the line. You blinked, your jaw working around silent words trying to find an answer but unable to at the finality of his tone and the restrictions it put on you. “Why?” you asked. You didn’t argue, you just wanted a reason. You couldn’t argue with the way he stared at you, his blue gaze squinting, and his lip curled in a sneer. “I will give you a day’s notice before I hold a party at least, and if you need something all you have to do is text me,” he said, completely ignoring the question.

But you knew he heard it, had seen the way his jaw flexed at the single word. He didn’t like being questioned when it came to this. All you could do was swallow, the cool way he led the conversation had you nodding in agreement. His pleased expression made you realized what you had just agreed to. He’d have complete control over the household if you kept acting like a meek little mouse. “I knew you were perfect for this. Perfect to be here with me,” he murmured, the smirk pulling at his lips again. His eyes swept over you once more, lingering in places that only lover’s should indulge in. Once again, the stiffness left his muscles, and he was back to reminding you of a lazy cat. A big one though, like a lion out in the sun just waiting for it to cool off before it hunted. Before it became an issue and made a meal of you. Touya was dangerous, you just didn’t know why. Embarrassment flooded through you, nerves took over, and quickly rushed from the room. He cackled behind you and the sound followed you all the way to your room. Just who was Touya? Maybe it was time to keep an eye open on campus.

-Taglist- @arvandus

---- If you want to read up to chapter 4 of Blurred Lines (before it's all rewritten), want to get early access, or want some special original content check out my patreon! Link

[corpsekiller]

consumption of a heart unloved — dabi

PAIRING. dabi/touya todoroki x genderneutral!reader (sorta healer!reader)

WARNINGS. hurt/comfort, descriptions of scars and burns, slight gore, but i promise it's still sweet at the end

SYNOPSIS. dabi's body deteriorates after another mission, slowly meeting its inevitable end. you're able to offer him a fleeting sense of relief, an escape from the pain, even if it's just for a short while.

AUTHOR'S NOTE. so, this is one of the two fics i wanted to finish before i go on a two weeks break to focus on my upcoming exams! i've never written healer!reader before, but it just seemed to fit the plot of this fic... and with that, i'll officially log off for the next 14 days (besides reblogs and the other fic), so wish me luck on my exams🖤✨️

LENGTH. 2.072 words

MASTERLIST

It's getting worse.

He can feel it beneath his skin, breathing, pulsing, feasting on his churned flesh and brittle bones like a fuckin' parasite, consuming every inch of his sickly being with a lethal appetite.

The burns have started to spread across his torso and the staples at the seams of his discolored scars have burst open, barely able to piece his frail body together any longer as the fresh wounds tear him open from the inside out, crawling over what remains of his untouched skin with blistered heat that pulls a scream out of his throat — raw and utterly broken — like a dying animal writhing in the dirt.

It echoes through the abandoned building and fades into ever-lasting nothingness, a desperate cry that remains unanswered as he sinks further into the cushions of the old couch he found in the new hide-out of the League, hoping the cold leather might soothe the unbearable ache that keeps tormenting him.

It's a futile attempt that reminds him how pathetic he's become — unable to control his quirk and forced to suffer with the shame of it.

Dabi is convinced ripping his failing organs out of his own abdomen would feel more pleasant than this. It would be easier to bear, removing parts of this pathetic body that is causing him so much pain, dismantling himself into small pieces like a puppet — without a heart that feels and a brain that thinks — and putting them back together until everything fuckin' works how it's supposed to do.

Until his body obeys.

He's too delirious to remember when the pain started, doesn't recall what he was doing before it began to unwind in the pit of his stomach earlier that day, but he's still capable of noticing how his skin begins to feel like it has grown too tight for his bones — a prison of flesh he can never escape.

And it's not like he wasn't expecting this day to come. On the contrary, he was always aware of the ticking time bomb buried behind his ribs, the can of gasoline pulsing through his veins, waiting for the light of a burning match to blow everything up and engulf the entire world in a hailstorm of violent destruction.

That's how it was always supposed to end.

Dabi knows his fire will seal his inevitable demise in a blaze of cerulean blue, swallowing him whole and wiping him off the surface of this godforsaken earth. Still, nothing could have prepared him for the torture he has to endure until that day arrives.

His fingers twitch, blackened at the tips and trembling unsteadily, reaching towards the ceiling as if he'll find something to hold on to or perhaps someone who'd reach back and grasp his hand to pull him out of the delirium that fogs his usually so clever wit - he finds nothing but a shattered lightbulb hanging above his head, the lampshade covered in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs, a single spider dangling from it in the corner.

He faintly wonders, if it feels just as lonely as he does.

The pain caused by his movement twists through him like barbed wire, slicing into every muscle and every nerve until his mind becomes a blur of feverish thoughts, jumbled together until he can barely form a word.

Oh, he's awfully aware he's burning out — a collapsing star on the verge of a supernova. He expected his life to end this way, should have made peace with the fact that he'd never get a happy ending, but—

The sound of footsteps pulls him back from the brink of his madness, light and deliberate, like whoever is approaching is trying not to disturb him as if he's a mere child slumbering innocently in his crib. The door creaks open, rusty hinges protesting as a figure silently slips into the darkened room.

Dabi doesn't have to look up to know it's you — he'd recognize your presence anywhere.

He always does.

"Hey," you whisper softly, your voice cutting through the haze of his pain, soft and steady, like the soothing caress of calm waves washing over his frayed nerves. Carefully stepping into his line of sight, your features deepen with a certain kind of concern — through his blurred vision he can still make out the fine line between your cinched brows, your lips curved into a small frown as you brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Though there's no pity in your eyes.

There's never pity.

It's the only reason he lets you stay.

Immediately, he grits his teeth and tries to sit up straighter, digging his fingers into the cushion for some kind of support, but the effort causes his skin to scream in protest. Before he can even realize what's happening, you're already rushing to his side and crouching beside him on the dirt-stained floor, your hand hovering near his face like you want to touch him but aren't sure if he can take it.

"You look like shit," you mumble as he catches his breath, a weak attempt at humor that coaxes a ragged chuckle from his coarse throat despite the searing heat pulsing through his entire being.

"Feel worse," he rasps, his voice barely above a whisper. The corners of his chapped lips twitch into a half-hearted smirk, a ghost of the maniacal grin he wore earlier when he watched his flames consume another one of the inglorious heroes he always despised so much.

You don't laugh.

Instead, you reach out and tentatively brush the tips of your fingers against his unscarred skin, right above the silver staples that glisten faintly in the dim light creeping through the wooden planks nailed across every window of the room.

It's the barest touch, but it sends a wave of something strangely comforting through him — something that seems to extinguish the fire for a split second and settles deep in his chest, cradling his stuttering heart like a fragile butterfly with broken wings.

You're using your quirk, he notices far too late, the realization crashing down like a sledgehammer to his skull, leaving his thoughts shattered and bleeding. His body stiffens beneath your careful touch, a primal instinct to recoil sparking somewhere deep in his aching limbs, though even as his pain screams for him to move, he stays frozen in place.

He's certain now because he can feel it — the subtle, almost imperceptible shift as your energy flows into him, soothing the jagged edges of his agony. It's not enough to heal him completely - nothing could undo the damage he's done to himself - but it dulls the worst of it, like a cool cloth pressed to his fevered brow.

You’re taking it from him. The pain that is meant for him to feel, the agony that is his to own (or perhaps it owns him).

Then Dabi sees it.

The faint crease of your brow, the way your jaw ticks and clenches to stifle a sharp inhale of breath as your fingers tremble against his mangled skin, ever so slightly, before you finally press the palm of your hand over his sweat-slicked forehead in a motion so gentle that it almost reminds him of a mother tending to her sick child.

"Shit," he croaks, his words nothing but a cracked brittle thing climbing out of his mouth as he tries to jerk back. "Stop, you're–"

"Don't move," you interrupt, quiet but certain. Your voice breaks just enough to betray the strain you're under, though your hand stays firm on his face, even as your breaths start to come out quicker than usual, shallow and uneven like your lungs have unlearned how to function properly.

He supposes that's what his pain does to someone who isn't used to suffering the kind of torment he feels every day.

"You’re feeling it," he growls, though the argument dies somewhere in the back of his throat when his eyes look onto yours and find a glimpse of what is going on in your head — determination, stubborn and unyielding, even as the pain he’s spent years burying himself in bleeds into you.

"I know," you murmur shakily and tight with effort. "Just let me... let me help."

His jaw clenches, and for a moment, all he can do is stare at you. Dabi watches the thin sheen of sweat gather on your temple, the way your muscles twitch and your shoulders cave in like they're trying to hold back a scream, and he hates it.

More than that, he hates the way you’re looking at him. Not with pity, but with something far worse: care.

Fuck, he wants to tell you to stop — he needs to yell at you, push you away, do anything to make you let go, yet he can't, not when your touch feels like the only thing anchoring him to reality, the only thing keeping him from slipping into the abyss that’s been pulling at him for years.

"You can’t fix me," Dabi whispers after a moment, his voice trembling as his hands twitch uselessly at his sides. A certain kind of guilt cuts through his chest, sharper than any flame ever could and it's strange because he can't remember the last time he ever felt remorse for anything he's ever done, for anyone he's ever hurt. "You can’t—"

"I know," you cut him off again, your tone firmer this time. "But I’m not leaving you like this."

Your words slam into him harder than the pain ever could. Reeling for another argument, he swallows thickly around the stone that has settled in his throat, heavy and suffocating, as he feels the edges of something unfamiliar awaken in the depths of his mind- it isn't anger nor is it hatred.

No, it's smaller, softer, fragile like a flickering candle trying to survive amid a raging storm.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he mutters, his voice cracking with defeat and his eyes dropping to where your other hand has moved to rest against his collarbone. "You're gonna kill yourself."

"Not today," you reply, your lips twitching into that faint, stubborn smile he's grown to like so much. "And neither are you."

He hates how much he wants to believe you, how much he wants to let himself lean into you, let you carry some of his burdens even if it burns you, but as he watches you endure it — every stab, every flicker of heat and pain his body throws your way — he realizes something he’s never let himself think before.

He doesn’t want to lose you.

Not now, not ever.

"C'mon, stop trying to fight me," you mutter, tenderly brushing some tousled strands of hair out of his forehead before you lean forward to press a kiss to his temple, letting your lips linger there for just a moment. "I'm not going to leave you, I promise... Touya."

The sound of his name falling from your tongue so sweetly feels like a soft ripple across still waters.

It seeps into the cracks of his fractured soul, cooling the blistering heat beneath his skin and quieting the flames that have consumed him for so long. His shoulders drop, the tightness in his chest easing as he finally exhales a shaky breath. It’s not a miracle, not a cure — but for the first time, it doesn’t hurt quite as much.

He doesn’t have the strength to answer, so instead, he leans ever so slightly into you, letting your presence hold him together where his broken body and soul cannot.

Finally, Dabi allows himself to lose this battle, letting his muscles relax for the first time in what feels like hours, days, maybe even weeks as your energy shifts around the room and the burning pain has simmered down to a dull tenderness. Cautiously, your hand leaves his forehead to find his and he lets it stay there, lets himself savor the warmth of your touch.

For the first time in longer than he can remember, the thought of surviving doesn’t feel like a punishment. It feels like a promise. Something worth fighting for and it terrifies him.

He doesn’t say it out loud — he can’t, not yet — but the thought burns brighter than his flames and he silently wonders if maybe, just maybe, he can hold on just a little longer.

For you.

Taglist: @justwolosers @jaerang @dabislittlemouse

(@redr0sewrites tagging you because you loved my other fic so much, i thought you might like this one too <3)

[kateschi]

ᯓ★୭˚. ALLIES OR MORE?

જ⁀➴ “what are we?” event masterlist

synopsis: what begins as routine care for dabi’s wounds transforms into an unspoken connection that neither of you knows how to navigate.

pairing: dabi x f!reader

for as long as you’d been part of the league, you had grown accustomed to the tension.

you were the designated healer, your power capable of mending broken bones, closing deep wounds, and easing the exhaustion of battle-hardened bodies.

the other members tended to keep you at arm’s length for the most part.

you weren’t just a healer to them—you were an anomaly, a person who didn’t quite fit with the others in the chaos of destruction and power.

the members of the league each had their own way of keeping others at a distance, but none more so than dabi.

he was shrouded in mystery.

he didn’t speak much, and when he did, his words were sharp, laced with a biting humor that rarely left room for any meaningful connection.

more often than not, he seemed indifferent to everything and everyone.

most days, you kept your distance, respecting his space as he seemed to do with everyone else.

but the first time you truly saw him in pain was a moment that would stay with you forever—a subtle but undeniable shift in the dynamic between you two.

the league had just returned from one of their raids, and the room buzzed with the aftermath of a successful mission.

however, the moment dabi entered, the usual weightlessness of his presence was gone.

his footsteps were slower, heavier. his face was pinched with discomfort, and his posture was hunched, as if the pain was too much for him to hide.

he was holding his side, and the smell of scorched flesh lingered in the air, faint but unmistakable.

it was clear he had pushed himself further than normal this time.

and for once, it wasn’t the usual detached indifference that ruled him—it was frustration and irritation.

you were tending to some of the other league members when you noticed him, limping into the room with deliberate slowness.

his usual presence was absent, replaced by a noticeable fatigue, and you couldn't just ignore it.

"need help?" you asked, keeping your voice neutral, though you knew your eyes betrayed concern.

you tried to keep the pity from creeping into your words, but it was difficult.

seeing him in pain, seeing him like this was different.

dabi glanced at you, his eyes narrowing slightly, his expression hardening as if he were attempting to push the pain out of his mind. he grunted, looking away.

"I’m fine," he muttered, but the words felt hollow, weak, and there was an undeniable strain in his voice that he couldn’t hide.

normally, you would have backed off, respected his wishes, but this time, you didn’t.

you couldn’t.

you had a job to do. and whether he liked it or not, you were the one who could fix this. with a sigh, you stepped forward, not giving him a chance to refuse.

"you’re not fine," you said softly, but with conviction, as you moved to gently guide him to the nearest chair.

dabi didn’t resist, though the tension in his body was palpable. his lips tightened, and his jaw clenched as he lowered himself into the seat.

he said nothing, but there was a clear discomfort in the way he held himself, almost as though he was fighting the urge to tell you to leave him alone.

your hands were steady as you worked, applying your healing touch to the burn on his side.

the burn was severe, the edges raw and angry-looking, and you could feel the heat of it even through the fabric of his shirt.

as your fingers moved over his skin, your touch light but precise, you could see dabi’s posture shift.

it wasn’t much—just the slightest softening in his shoulders, the faintest loosening of his clenched fists—but it was enough to make you pause.

as you continued, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this moment was more personal.

it wasn’t just the physical proximity between you, though that was enough to make your heart beat faster.

it was the way he sat still, the way his breathing steadied under your touch, the unspoken acknowledgment that he needed you in a way he had never allowed before.

he didn’t ask for help, didn’t beg for it, but here he was, allowing you to do what you did best: heal.

once you finished, he was on his feet again, pulling away from you with a sense of urgency that felt almost unnatural.

his voice was rough when he spoke, the cold edge creeping back into it as he muttered, "don’t get used to it."

weeks had passed since your first encounter with dabi, and during that time, your interactions with him had slowly become more frequent.

at first, it had been a distant exchange, purely professional.

dabi would show up injured after missions, and you would tend to his wounds in silence, your touch skilled yet detached.

he was gruff, often testing your patience with his sharp tongue, but as time wore on, he didn’t refuse your help as often.

it was a strange, silent agreement between you both.

you healed him, and he allowed it, never quite acknowledging the growing tension that seemed to form between you each time.

it was a pattern now—and you did get used to it.

but you had begun to notice small shifts in the way he acted around you. the snide remarks and teasing were still there, but they weren’t as biting.

one afternoon, you were gathering supplies in the infirmary when dabi strolled in, his usual smirk playing on his lips despite the burn on his arm.

"here to make me feel better again?" dabi’s voice dripped with sarcastic amusement as he leaned against the doorframe.

rolling your eyes, you glanced up. “as much as I enjoy patching you up, I don’t know if I’d call it ‘making you feel better.’ you’re still a pain in my side.”

dabi’s smirk widened, his eyes glinting with amusement.

“pain in your side? pretty sure I’m the one who needs healing, sweetheart. you should be more grateful.”

you raised an eyebrow.

“grateful for what, exactly? you mean for me making sure you don’t burn to a crisp every time you go out? I’d say ‘thanks,’ but I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t even know how to say it.”

he shrugged, taking a step forward as you prepped a bandage.

“yeah, well, I’m not the type to get all sappy and sentimental. but I guess I’ll let you keep me from turning into an ashtray.”

you smirked, playfully pushing him toward the chair. “you’re lucky you’re so charming. now sit down before I make you walk out on your own.”

dabi chuckled darkly, giving you an exaggerated eye-roll. “fine, fine. don’t get too excited. I’m not some fragile little flower you need to nurse back to health.”

you rolled your eyes but didn’t argue.

as usual, you got to work, starting with the burn on his arm. "doesn't hurt as much as it looks," dabi said after a moment, his voice oddly casual.

you glanced up at him, catching the slight change in his expression.

he was still wearing that half-smirk, but there was something else there—a quiet acknowledgment, almost like a silent challenge.

"you’re lucky you’re not more reckless," you muttered as you carefully secured the bandages. “you’d be dead by now if you didn’t have me patching you up.”

dabi snorted, leaning back in the chair.

“I can take care of myself. but I’ll admit, you’re pretty handy when it comes to not letting me burn alive.”

he paused for a second, his eyes flicking to yours, then back down at the bandages.

“guess I owe you one.”

you looked at him, unsure if you had heard that correctly. "you're actually thanking me?" you asked, incredulous. "that doesn't sound like you."

"well, don't get used to it." he smirked again. “it’s not like I’m gonna start liking this whole healing thing. you’re still annoying as hell.”

you laughed, stepping back as you finished up. "yeah, well, you’re not exactly my favorite patient either, but I guess I can live with it.”

the days and weeks that follow the encounter in the infirmary seem to blend together. but then, one evening, a far too intimate moment takes place.

he sits across from you in the infirmary, his posture tense, as you work on yet another burn from his latest skirmish with the heroes.

it is the same as it always is, but this time, the quiet feels different.

it is heavier, more charged, as if something is building between the two of you, but neither of you dares to acknowledge it.

as you gently press your hands to his side, focusing on the burn, you can feel the heat of his skin contrasting sharply with the coolness of your touch.

your fingertips ghost over the burn, tracing the edges, but dabi flinches slightly. his body tenses, but his eyes never leave yours.

you freeze, just for a moment.

the intensity in his gaze is like a weight pressing down on you. there is a silence between you now, a silence that feels too long.

his eyes bore into you, and it is as if the world outside the two of you fades away.

you aren’t sure if it is the way he stares or the subtle tension in the way he holds his body, but something feels different.

this is no longer just a simple act of healing. it isn’t apathetic or impersonal, as it has been before.

now, it’s all over—his heartbeat beneath your fingertips, the slight hitch in his breath as you work, the way he remains so still, almost as though he is waiting for something.

he doesn’t pull away from you, but he doesn’t lean into the moment either. it is a delicate balance, one that makes the air between you feel like it is about to snap.

it is then that you catch it—a flicker in his eyes, something almost vulnerable.

it is gone as quickly as it appears, but it unsettles you.

dabi, the one who always wears indifference like a shield, has allowed something more human to surface, even if only for a split second.

you force yourself to focus, to finish your task, to complete what you have started.

“done,” you murmur softly, pulling your hands away from his side. the space between you seems to stretch, the tension between you both finally broken.

dabi doesn’t say anything, but you can’t ignore the slight shift in the way he looks at you. it is a fleeting moment, but it is there, undeniable.

and in that instant, you feel it—the shift, the change. there is something stirring between you two, something fragile, yet undeniable.

you feel it in the air around you, thick with unspoken words and emotions that neither of you dares to express.

you can’t quite place it, but it lingers, hanging between you like a secret neither of you can speak aloud.

you glance up at him again, and for a brief second, it is as if the two of you are suspended in time.

but then, dabi stands abruptly, brushing past you with a motion so swift and decisive it leaves no room for hesitation.

he doesn’t look back, doesn’t speak a word, and you are left alone.

and so, dabi pulls away from you.

at first, you don’t think much of it.

maybe it is just another one of his mood swings, something typical for someone like him, but days turn into weeks, and his coldness only seems to intensify.

he stops seeking you out after his missions, a stark contrast to the way things had been before.

the familiar pattern of him showing up injured, not even bothering to hide the pain, has come to an abrupt halt.

when he does appear, he no longer allows you to heal him without putting up a fight.

every time you make an attempt, he throws sarcastic remarks or makes a point to be as difficult as possible.

his eyes always dart away the moment they meet yours.

the more he distances himself, the more you feel an ache in your chest, an emptiness that has never been there before.

it isn’t as if you are dependent on him—his attention or affection aren’t the things that define you—but it still stings. and it makes you question everything.

is it something you’ve done? have you said something wrong, something that has made him pull away so completely?

the confusion gnaws at you, and you can’t help but wonder if maybe you have imagined the change before, if you’ve misread the moments that have felt different.

what has been the spark? and why, just as quickly, does it fade?

when you confide in toga, you can tell by the raised brow and the way she tilts his head slightly that she isn’t as bothered by dabi’s behavior as you are.

“dabi’s an idiot,” toga says with a light shrug.

“he’s probably overthinking something. he’ll come around eventually.”

the words are supposed to be comforting, or at least reassuring, but they only make you feel more uncertain.

maybe dabi will come around eventually, but what if he doesn’t?

what if this coldness isn’t just a passing phase, something he’ll snap out of once he gets over whatever internal battle he is waging?

what if this is something that marks the end of whatever strange connection has begun to form between you?

you aren’t sure anymore. not this time.

until one night, you find yourself laughing with twice, managing to pull yourself away from the growing weight of tension that has been building between you and dabi.

the mission has been a disaster, as usual, but twice's chaotic recount of the events has you chuckling despite yourself.

for a moment, you allow yourself to enjoy the lightness of the conversation, even pulling twice into a hug as you laugh at his antics.

but a sudden, sharp tug on your arm makes you stumble.

the grip is firm, unforgiving as it drags you away from the scene, and as you turn to face the source, you see dabi standing there, his hand still wrapped around your wrist.

his usual aloofness is gone, replaced by something darker—a flicker of frustration that you haven’t seen before.

the pressure in the air feels thick, almost suffocating.

"what the hell, dabi?" you snap, pulling your arm away from him with a force you hadn’t meant to use.

the confusion simmering inside you is quickly replaced by irritation. "what’s your problem?"

dabi doesn’t answer right away.

instead, he just stands there, staring at you with that intensity that makes your heart beat a little faster, your stomach twisting with frustration.

his gaze is fixed on you, unwavering, and it feels like he is trying to burn you alive with nothing more than his eyes.

"is it really necessary to be all over him like that?" he finally speaks, his voice low, but the sharp edge in it makes your skin prickle.

you blink, taken aback, and then you feel the anger rise in your chest. "all over him? what the hell are you talking about?" you retort. "he’s my friend, dabi."

the words barely leave your mouth before he exhales sharply, and you can feel the tension in his body, radiating off of him like heat from a fire.

his arms are rigid, his jaw tight, and the air between you feels charged in a way it hasn’t before.

"yeah, well, that’s what I thought too," he mutters, his voice just above a whisper.

but you can hear the frustration in his tone, thick and bitter, making your chest tighten.

you study him, trying to find something in his eyes that might explain it.

but all you see is that same intensity—the kind that makes your skin tingle, the kind that unsettles you in ways you can’t ignore.

“dabi, what’s really going on with you?” you ask, your voice quieter now, a mix of frustration and curiosity in your tone. you can’t quite pin it, but something is off.

“you’ve been pulling away for weeks. is there something you’re not telling me?”

he doesn’t answer at first, and for a moment, you think he might just walk away, as he is so good at doing.

but instead, his jaw clenches tighter, and you notice his grip on your arm tighten slightly, though it isn’t painful. it is almost like a warning.

and then it hits you.

the sudden change in behavior, the way his eyes follow you whenever you aren’t looking.

the way his voice trembles with something you can’t quite identify when he pulls you away from twice.

this isn’t just irritation.

it is jealousy.

you stare at him, realization dawning, a strange sense of clarity settling in. the confusion you felt earlier is now gone, replaced by something else.

something sharp, almost playful in its realization.

“are you—” you stop yourself, not sure if you really want to say it out loud.

but the words are there, and they slip out before you can stop them. “what, are you in love with me or something?”

the air between you freezes, the question hanging there like a charged wire.

dabi goes rigid at your words, his eyes narrowing dangerously. his lips part, but no words come out. his jaw tightens, and his entire body seems to freeze.

the silence stretches between you both, long and heavy, and for a moment, you wonder if you have pushed too far.

but then, just as you are about to break the silence, dabi takes a step toward you, his gaze never leaving yours.

the anger that is in his eyes is now replaced by something calmer, quieter, but it makes your chest tighten all the same.

"maybe," he mutters.

his words settle into the air between you both, and for the first time, there is no hiding, no distance.

the tension that has built up between you over the past weeks, the quiet battles, the silent standoffs—all of it is gone in that one breath.

and as his eyes lock onto yours, you realize that this moment is the turning point, the beginning of something neither of you can deny anymore.

without another word, dabi reaches up, his hand brushing against your cheek with a tenderness that is completely at odds with the usual fire in his touch.

he leans in, and you can feel your heart pounding in your chest. then, slowly, he kisses you.

it is rough at first, like everything else about him, but there is something undeniably real in it.

and suddenly, everything else—every argument, every cold moment, every second of confusion—fades away, leaving only the truth between you.

the truth you both have been dancing around.

— you have a new message!

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[with-my-calamitous-love]

thinking about shouto naming his first son touya. hear me out.

he has a lot of really complicated feelings towards his family, specifically his eldest brother. he never really knew him as a brother, more so as a murderer or a villain. any chances he had to truly know touya and not dabi had been burned away in the ashes of their childhood.

he wishes he could have done something. maybe he could have had a brother. (rip natsuo but you get what i mean)

he’s laying next to your swollen belly, his hand just gently resting overtop feeling the life inside. when he brings up the name suggestion to you, you’re quick to point out the obvious- that touya was, in fact a criminal, an arsonist, and a murderer. and shouto understands that better than anyone. however.

he doesn’t want to name his son after a criminal. no, not at all. he wants to name his son after his brother, the memory of who he was before the world ruined him. he wants to remember touya todoroki, the boy who just wanted to please his father, who was so excited about his quirk, who probably did love his family, even just a little bit.

he couldn’t save touya. he couldn’t save the life that could have been. and he’ll never fully forgive himself for that. but if he can’t save his brother, he’ll save his name.

he’s determined to.

[thatlotuscookie]

Hi! Could you write a BNHA Dabi x Female Reader? Something short and simple where Dabi comes home after a mission, all burnt out and exhausted, and the reader helps him unwind, taking care of his burns and just giving him a bit of comfort. I'd love to see that softer side of him! Thank you!

✧･ﾟ: a/n : thank you for the request, anon! this is totally how Dabi would act after a tough mission. It’s always satisfying to see him drop that hard exterior just a little bit when he’s around someone he trusts. hope you guys enjoy this one!

✧ Title: ✧ Worn Down ✧ ✧ Characters: Dabi x Female Reader ✧ Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Light Angst ✧ Rating: T ✧ Summary: Dabi comes home from a brutal mission, exhaustion weighing him down like never before. You try to get him to take it easy, offering the care and softness he never admits he needs. He doesn’t have to pretend with you. ✧ Content Warnings: Mentions of overexertion, exhaustion, caretaking, mild vulnerability, !soft Dabi ✧ WC: 784 words // 4307 chars

The door creaked open, and the sound of heavy, sluggish footsteps filled the quiet apartment. You looked up from the book you were reading, seeing Dabi step inside, his silhouette outlined by the dim light of the hallway.

But as he made his way into the room, you couldn’t help but notice how worn-out he looked. His usual swagger was replaced by slow, uneven movements, his shoulders slumped under the weight of exhaustion. The mission must have been brutal.

Dabi didn’t say a word as he dropped onto the couch beside you, his head falling back against the cushion, eyes closed in clear frustration. His chest rose and fell with deep, ragged breaths as if every inhale took more effort than the last.

"Dabi…" you murmured, worry threading through your voice as you reached out to gently touch his arm. His body tensed under your fingers, but he didn’t pull away, didn’t brush you off like he usually did. That alone told you how drained he really was.

"I'm fine," he grunted, though the tightness in his jaw betrayed him. It was the same line he always threw out when he didn’t want to admit he was hurting. But you knew him well enough by now to see through it.

"You don’t look fine," you said softly, sitting up straighter as you studied him. His skin was slick with sweat, and his muscles were still trembling slightly, likely from the strain of overusing his quirk. Even someone like him, with all his power, had limits.

Dabi huffed, his lips pulling into a weak, half-hearted smirk. "Overdid it, that’s all."

You frowned, your hand moving to gently rub his back. "You always overdo it."

He didn’t respond to that, just let out a long, tired exhale as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as he buried his face in his hands. His usual cocky exterior had cracked, leaving behind the raw, vulnerable man underneath—the one who pushed himself too hard, too often, just to prove a point to a world that had already turned its back on him.

Wordlessly, you stood up and disappeared into the kitchen, grabbing a cold bottle of water from the fridge. When you returned, you handed it to him, and he took it without a word, the faintest hint of gratitude flickering in his tired eyes.

"You need to take it easy sometimes," you whispered, sitting down beside him again, your hand resting on his thigh. "You can’t keep going like this."

Dabi unscrewed the cap and took a long drink, his throat working as he swallowed. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just stared down at the bottle in his hand as if it held all the answers he was too stubborn to ask for.

"I’ve got things to do," he muttered after a beat, though there was no real fire in his voice. He was too tired to fight you on this.

"You’ve done enough for one night," you replied gently, your thumb brushing soothing circles on his leg. "Let me take care of you for once."

Dabi snorted, but there was no edge to it. His hand came up to rub the back of his neck, the tension in his shoulders still painfully obvious. "You’re too soft for this life," he said, though the words lacked their usual bite.

You just smiled softly, knowing it was his way of deflecting. “Maybe. But you need someone to be soft for you.”

He let out a long, frustrated sigh but didn’t protest when you shifted closer, your hand moving to his hair, gently combing through the dark strands. It was something that always seemed to calm him, though he’d never admit it.

For a while, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, your fingers trailing through his hair as he leaned back against the couch, finally letting his body relax. His breathing slowed, and for the first time that night, he looked almost peaceful—like the weight of everything he carried had finally lightened, if only for a little while.

“You’re gonna spoil me if you keep this up,” he muttered, his voice low and rough from exhaustion.

You chuckled softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his temple. “You deserve to be spoiled a little.”

For a moment, Dabi didn’t respond, but as the silence stretched between you, you noticed the way his body sagged further into the couch, his defenses crumbling just a little more. He let his head fall against your shoulder, and though he didn’t say it out loud, you could feel the unspoken gratitude in the way he leaned into your touch.

He didn’t have to pretend with you.