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ghostbeam · 1 year

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casual | dabi/touya todoroki

“My mom wants to meet you.”

It’s a sentence uttered as Touya pulls the T-shirt he’d discarded earlier (while he was pushing you toward your bed and sucking your tongue into his mouth) over his head. It comes as a shock, lying in your bed completely bare, still struggling to catch your breath. It shouldn’t make you feel excited in the way that it does, not when Touya has been more than clear about the nature of the relationship between the two of you. Nothing serious. No commitment.

Casual.

notes: hiiiii so this is just something I’ve been working on for a bittttt it’s inspired by causal by Chappell roan it’s nothing special but I just couldn’t get the idea out of my head so yeahhhh sorry for the severe lack of smut in a friends with benefits fic btw ahsjsjsjs thanks for reading hope u enjoy!!<3

warnings: 18+, minors dni, f!reader, explicit content, no quirk au, oral f!recieving, friends to lovers, friends with benefits, the todorokis are healing, dabi is called Touya throughout literally the entire thing

words: 4.1k

“My mom wants to meet you.”

Casual.

“What?” You aren’t sure how you should respond, or what the right answer is. He shrugs, buttoning his jeans.

“You don’t have to. Just promised her I’d ask.” He says, turning around to dig through your dresser. He pulls out one of the shirts he’s left there and a pair of underwear for you, tossing the items your way. You change, covering yourself up before moving to sit in the middle of the bed, legs tucked underneath you.

“You’ve been talking to her about me?” You question. You know it’s not what he wants to hear.

“I’ve mentioned you.” He tells you. He’s still standing, staring down at you. Your question should have been teasing, but you were sincere. You’ve met his siblings before. You know you’re not a secret to his family, but the mention of his mom feels entirely too serious. It makes you feel hopeful. You don’t want to feel hopeful.

“Oh, yeah?” You grin, your last ditch effort at turning this back on him, to show him that you can handle casual, that you like casual. He rolls his eyes.

“It’s not a big deal.” He shrugs. “She’s met all my friends.”

“Friends like me?” You ask him. You aren’t even sure what you mean by it. Touya was your friend long before the two of you had sex. That doesn’t really make you different from the others in any real way.

Touya is your friend. Sometimes, you wish he wasn’t.

“Friends like you…” He trails off. His eyes flicker from yours like he’s thinking about it. “No, I guess she hasn’t.”

You hum, nodding your head. You don’t want to read into what he could possibly mean by that. But, truthfully, Touya doesn’t have any friends like you.

“Whatever. I tell my mom about you. You write about me in your little diary.” He speaks, leaning down so he’s at eye level with you. He kisses you once, long and hard before pulling away. “We’ll call it even.”

He stands up straight, grabbing his keys from the top of your dresser and picking his jacket up from the floor on his way out of your bedroom. He turns back to wink at you once before disappearing through your doorway.

“It’s not a diary!” You call, but he only chuckles in response.

…

wear that one dress read 7:42am

the blue one with the flowers read 7:42am

does ur mom like blue? sent 7:43am

?? read 7:44am

no i like blue read 7:44am

and i like you in blue read 7:45am

ok maybe sent 7:45am

…

You do not wear the dress.

Touya chuckles when he sees you, like he knew you wouldn’t and opens the passenger side door for you. Your sweater is blue, though.

Rei lives near the shore in a house that’s all her own. Touya tells you that he and his siblings visit as much as possible, that his sister thinks she might get lonely out on her own, but he knows she enjoys the solitude. There’s a freedom to it, the choice. Touya can understand that.

The road is long, and once the two of you get out of the city, there’s not much to look at. You watch the weather change out the window, blue skies above slowly shift into damp overcast and Touya rests his hand on your thigh.

He’s done it more times than you can count. It’s not unusual for Touya to touch you. He’s clingy like that. But in the car, driving two hours out of the city to meet his mother, it feels different. It is different. You want to believe that.

She stands at the front door as the two of you pull in. Her presence is a surprise to you when you know Touya hadn’t used his phone once the entire car ride. She looks small, delicate, almost, with a strength that settles in her shoulders, her chin tilted up slightly. You see now, how much of her is in him.

“She does this every time,” Touya speaks. “I have no clue how she knows.”

“Mother’s intuition.” You shrug.

“It’s creepy.”

“I think it’s cool.” You say. He flicks your forehead.

“You would.” He squeezes your thigh once before getting out of the car. He jogs to your side and lets you out. You feel his hand brush against yours as he leads you up to the house, but he never intertwines your fingers like you wish he would.

Rei introduces herself warmly and embraces you in a tight hug. Touya has to bend down a bit to allow her to hold him around his shoulders. She ushers the two of you inside and runs a hand through Touya’s hair, murmurs something about a haircut, but he shakes her hand off of his head and insists that he keeps it this way because you like it. You’ve never told him you liked his hair before. But it’s enough to get Rei off of his back about it because she sends you a knowing smile as you follow her into the living room.

The visit is a standard one as far as meeting the parents goes. Touya’s favorite food has been prepared and the three of you eat as Rei asks you questions. She’s understanding when the topic of your future comes up and you aren’t sure how to answer. She’s engaged when you tell her about your hobbies. At some point, you forget you’re here with Touya until you’re reminded of his presence when you turn your head in his direction and notice an uncharacteristically soft expression on his face. It confuses you, and it makes your stomach flip. You can’t ignore the feeling of his eyes on you for the rest of the visit.

When Rei pulls out a photo album, Touya stands up and says he’s going outside to smoke. You know part of it is because of embarrassment, old photos of such a young innocent thing, him in matching clothes with Natsuo, photos of all his bad haircuts. You also know that part of it is that he’d rather not think about that time in his life, even though his father is cut out of all the photos Rei shows you.

Rei speaks after a while, flipping through the pages of the album, “you’re good for him.”

You don’t look at her, eyeing one of Touya’s school photos from long ago.

“What did he say I was…to him?” You question.

“A friend.” She speaks, “But I think it’s obvious that it’s more than that.”

“Not really. I am his friend. I mean, I’m not a girlfriend or anything like that.” You try to explain. “I can’t really be good for him.”

“I think you can. I think you are.” She continues to flip through the photo album, and you continue to check the back door in case Touya walks in on your conversation.

“It means a lot that you say that. I really care about him.” You admit it to her even though she already knows because it feels right to. You want her to know that you could love her son if he let you, that you would in a heartbeat. It’s just more complicated than that.

“I can tell you do. And he cares about you, too. He’s just stubborn.” She pauses. “And scared.”

“Yeah.” You sigh. “Me too.”

Touya walks through the door a moment later. “We should go soon. I wanna leave before it gets dark. And I don’t need you two spilling any more secrets about me to each other.”

You freeze for a moment, wondering if he heard your earlier exchange, but the teasing tilt of his voice tells you he didn’t.

You say goodbye to Rei, and she makes you both promise that you’ll visit her again soon. When she hugs you, firm and tight like before, you feel sad to go. Touya guides you to his car with a hand placed on the small of your back. He doesn’t open your door for you, but he holds your hand the entire way home.

…

should we open a cafe read 2:22pm

what sent 2:25pm

or a bookstore read 2:26pm

what are u talking abt sent 2:27pm

both at the same time read 2:28pm

???? read 2:28pm

u wanna be business partners on top of being sent 2:29pm

whatever this is sent 2:29pm

fuck buddies read 2:30pm

ew sent 2:30pm

dont call it that sent 2:30pm

lovers???? read 2:32pm

pls stop sent 2:33pm

what shld we name the cafe/bookstore read 2:34pm

?? read 2:40pm

…

“Touya!” You cry, head thrown against the foggy car window as he stares up at you from between your legs. You run one hand through his hair as he runs his tongue through your folds. You whine. “Oh, my god.”

He pulls away to let out a breathy laugh, eyes finding yours as he kisses your thighs. You shift your hips forward, missing his mouth against your cunt. It’s cramped in his car, your back uncomfortably pressed against the door. Touya’s contorted in a way that allows his long body to fit in the back seat with the door closed. His comfort is an afterthought while in between your thighs.

“Don’t stop.” You cry, wiggling your hips. He grins, bringing his hand up to run two fingers gently over your clit. It’s not enough. You can barely stand it.

“Poor baby.” He coos, rubbing agonizingly slow circles over your most sensitive spot. “Were you gonna come?”

“Fuck you.” You speak through clenched teeth, moving your hips to try and grind against his fingers.

“Not yet.” He teases, before attaching his lips to your cunt once more. His movements are hurried, making a mess of you in his backseat as he runs his tongue over your clit over and over again. You feel his hand reach up to grab your wrist, bringing it back to the top of his head. You tug on his hair, grinding against his face, understanding exactly what he wants from you. He groans against you, reaching down to touch himself through his jeans.

“I’m close!” You whine. Every flick of his tongue is controlled, his only goal being your pleasure. His fingers dig into one of your thighs, and the feeling of your hips twitching against him drives him insane.

“Come for me, baby.” Touya pleads, releasing his grip on your thigh and rubbing a soothing hand over the spot. “You look so fucking pretty when you come. Let me see it.”

With one last swipe of his tongue, you're pushed over the edge, legs shaking around his head as he continues movements against you. He pulls away, leaving kisses against your thighs, moving up over your stomach, your chest, your neck. He pulls you forward with one arm so that you're pressed against him.

“C’mere.” He whispers, pressing his lips tenderly to yours, far too sweet for casual. He slips his tongue into your mouth, and you reach down to touch him over his jeans. He bucks his hips up, letting out a moan against your lips, when his phone begins to ring. He ignores it, pulling away to kiss your neck. You thumb the button of his jeans open, reaching down to touch him again, when the ringing of his phone interrupts yet again. Touya lets out an annoyed sigh, reaching into his back pocket to pull the buzzing device out.

“What.” He speaks, voice laced with anger. When the voice on the other end of the line speaks, you know it’s Tomura.

Touya met Tomura a few years after he met you, and you liked him. You did, but he always found a way to get under Touya’s skin at the worst times. Every comment he makes about the relationship between the two of you leaves Touya with far too much to think about. It usually pushes him away from you for a week at most, replying to your messages with short answers, canceling plans. You figure that now that he’s picked up the phone, your fun in Touya’s backseat is over.

Touya speaks to Tomura as you pull your shirt back over your head, not bothering with your bra, just wanting to get dressed as quickly as possible. You search for your skirt, spotting it halfway underneath Touya while he tells Tomura he’s not free until Saturday night. You try to pull it out from under him, but it won’t budge.

“You’re sitting on my skirt.” You speak softly so you don’t interrupt his call. He notices immediately, lifting his hips for you to grab the piece of clothing. He mutters a quick sorry as you pull it over your legs, and you can hear Tomura question him over the phone.

“Huh? It’s no one.” He speaks, and though you know that you’re nothing more to Touya than a “friend” as he puts it, you hoped you were more to him than “no one”.

You pull your clothes on and exit the car, not wanting to hear the rest of the conversation. The car sits on a ledge, high on some mountain that overlooks a lush forest below. Touya showed you this place years ago while you were still just friends, somewhere that was just his became yours together. Back then it meant a lot to you. Now you know it probably meant nothing to him.

Touya exits the car a couple of minutes after you, eyeing you as you stare down over the cliff. You don’t notice when he comes up beside you, a hand on your back. He says, “you okay?”

“Mhm.” You nod your head, hands crossed over your chest. “I’m tired. Can you take me home?”

“Yeah, let’s go.” He presses a kiss to your temple before walking towards the car. On your way home, when Touya’s hand begins to creep towards your thigh, you cross your legs and move your stare towards your window. When he drops you off at home, you don’t kiss him goodbye.

…

come over read 8:18pm

cant sent 8:30pm

why not read 8:31pm

im studying sent: 8:34pm

study here read 8:35pm

no sent 9:00pm

you’re distracting sent 9:00pm

…

what are you doing read 1:22pm

fuyumi wants me to invite you to lunch read 1:24pm

tell her im sorry but i have class right now sent 1:30pm

u dont have class right now read 1:32pm

?? read 1:32pm

…

where have you been read 11:11pm

i want you read 11:11pm

come over read 11:12pm

please read 11:12pm

wanna kiss you read 11:16pm

need u read 11:30pm

sorry read 10:02am

stole a bottle from natsuo read 10:03am

i wanna see you though read 10:20am

...

Touya texts…a lot.

Your excuses are weak, especially to the man who knows you better than anyone in the world, someone who’s committed your schedule to memory for the better part of two years. But you try because it hurts, because despite agreeing to casual, you cannot continue to pretend like you aren’t in love with Touya. And you can’t continue to pretend that he’s in love with you too.

You write a lot to try and process it all. You write in your “little diary” as he called it, page after page about him and his pretty eyes, and his stupid hair, and his fucking tongue. It’s hard not to miss him.

You screen most of his calls when you can get away with it, but he texts you after each one you miss. He has no problem with double, triple, quadruple texting you because it’s you. There’s no pressure to impress or feign disinterest with you. You know this isn’t about the sex. Touya wants his friend back.

Only the thing is, you can’t be his friend. Not now, not after crossing every single possible line with him. You’ve fallen for him. This much you can admit to yourself, but you’ll never admit it to him.

So your only option is distance, which hurts you just as much as it hurts him. You want to send him cats you see on the street. You want to ask him to see the newest horror film with you. You want to lay in his bed and trace the lines on his face and wake up with his head buried in your neck.

What you want is to be his girlfriend. You want him to love you back.

You don’t know if it’s worse to be with him or without him.

…

r you busy rn? read 5:44pm

yeah sent 5:45pm

ok read 5:45pm

…

There’s a knock at your door at six pm on the dot while you’re thirty-seven pages deep into some cheesy romance novel you picked up to try and mend your broken heart, fill the void that you created by pushing your best friend (and the love of your life) away.

It doesn’t help that you’re wearing one of his shirts.

You open your door and peek through the crack. Touya stands there with a six-pack in one hand and the leather jacket he knows you love on him so much hung effortlessly over his shoulders. Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him. He looks like a model and you’re wearing his T-shirt.

He doesn’t say hello, just pushes his way through and kicks his annoyingly loud boots off, setting them by the door. He places the six-pack on the counter before muttering, “Cute shirt.”

He’s teasing you. You want to strangle him.

“What are you doing here?” You ask him, an annoyed huff leaving your lips as you cross your arms over your chest as if it’ll hide the shirt that he’s already noticed.

“Um, well.” He shrugs, strolling over to your couch where you left your romance novel and fuzzy blanket. He picks the book up and looks at you. “You know, I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” You stomp towards him, snatching the book out of his hands. “You’re the worst. Why don’t you ever say what you actually mean.”

You know why, though. Because Touya is unknowable, or at least he thinks himself to be. That’s why he doesn’t tell you anything real but allows you to see his apartment, allows you to see him naked with all of his scars and make love to him with the lights on. He won’t say that he loves you, but he’ll leave you thirty missed calls and show up at your apartment when he doesn’t get an answer. He won’t say that he’s worried, but he is. You know that he is because you’re the only person who’s ever really known him, even before the sex. Touya has always been yours. If Touya thinks you know nothing, at the very least he thinks you know this.

“Yeah.” He says. “You know, it’s funny cause, all of a sudden my best friend stopped talking to me. Not exactly not talking because she does answer my texts, still. Sometimes she answers my calls, but not really. But, I haven’t seen her in person in weeks. I miss her, and her stupid face, and her giant comfy couch.”

“Touya–” You begin to speak, but you don’t even know what you’re going to say. You’re definitely not going to explain yourself. You’re not going to confess to him wearing his t-shirt like some sad ex-girlfriend.

“Where did you go?” He asks. His voice breaks and it's like a blade in your heart. “Did I do something? Did I say something?”

“I didn’t go anywhere, Touya. I’m here. I’m here, I just–” you pause, trying to find the words to explain it all. “I don’t think we can do this anymore.”

“Do what?” He asks, but it doesn’t sound like a question. He knows what’s coming.

“Sleeping together. I don’t–I can’t–” You try again, but it’s fucking hard to talk to him. You want to kiss him. You want to fall into his arms. You want him to make you forget.

“Done.” He says. He doesn’t hesitate, and it hurts. “We can stop, we can–I just want you back. I want you with me. We can be just friends again, but please, please don’t leave.”

Tears fill your eyes at his words. He’s finally talking to you, finally saying something real, baring his soul, and you can’t tell him that you’ll stay. You love him so much, but you’re selfish.

“We can’t be friends either.” You choke, staring at the floor. If you look into his eyes, you’ll break.

“Why?” He shakes his head, “Talk to me, what’s happening? What changed?”

“Why do you care so much, Touya? I thought I was no one.” The words leave your lips before you can stop them.

“When did I say that?” He doesn’t remember. He doesn’t remember and it’s the one thing you’ve been agonizing over for weeks.

“What is it about Tomura that makes you shut down around me?” You ask him. Realization falls across his face. “Every time you talk to him you…pull away. I don’t know what to do with that.”

“I don’t pull away.” He argues.

“You do.”

“Is that what you’re doing? You’re trying to get back at me or something?”

“I’m trying to fucking–get over you!”

There’s nothing but silence after your confession. Your eyes fall closed in defeat, admitting the one thing you never wanted him to know.

“I can’t do casual. I am not casual. I tried to be cool. I was really good at it for a while, but now it just hurts.” You speak, voice shaking as you gain the courage to say everything you need to. “The thing is, I love you. And not how I’ve always loved you. I’m in love with you. So it sucks when, you know, I know you’re not in love with me.”

“Who told you I’m not in love with you?” He asks.

“You’re mean.” You say, glaring at him for the unnecessary question. No one told you. You just know. “It’s obvious.”

“Yeah? Is it?” He asks. “You think I bring anyone to meet my mom? You have half of my wardrobe here. You have a toothbrush and all of your stupid skincare shit at mine. I hold your hand in public. I text you good morning and shit.”

“So that means you’re in love with me?”

“Fuck, I thought it did.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. His roots are grown out, you notice. Have you really been gone that long?

“I don’t understand.” Touya is in love with you. Is that what he’s getting at?

“I love you.” He shakes his head, remembering your words from earlier. Not how I’ve always loved you. “I’m in love with you. That’s–Tomura knows. He knew it before I did. He says some dumb shit about it every time I talk about you, and it scares me, so I pull away. I didn’t know it felt like this. I’m fucking miserable.”

“When did you know?” You ask.

“Honestly? I think I always have been. I think that’s why I brought up sleeping together. I wanted to be closer to you without all of the commitment. But it was when you came to dinner that time when my dad showed up.” He walks toward you slowly as he speaks. He’s becoming more sure of himself, open. He’s done hiding. “And when we left, you were so fucking angry. You just ranted about him the whole way home, and it clicked. We were at a stop light and you were moving your hands all around and I thought ‘fuck, please don’t fall in love with this girl’, but it was too late and I knew it.”

“I think this is the most you’ve ever said to me.” You say dumbly. Touya just confessed his love to you and this is what you say?

“That’s not true. I never shut up. You know that. You tell me that all the time.”

“I mean–not, like, about music, or books, or someone who came into work. I mean real, raw, ‘fuck, don't fall in love with this girl’ shit.” You explain, a sly grin falling across your lips.

“You’re a dick.” He chuckles, wrapping his fingers around one of your wrists, and dragging you toward him.

“Yeah, but you’re in love with me.” You shrug, smiling up at him.

“Yeah, I really fucking am.” He says before he leans down to kiss you. It feels right, familiar. It is like all of the others because there’s always been love. It’s always been there. He’s always been yours. Touya knows you know this. “Please don’t…pull away again.”

“Okay.” You agree, resting your forehead against his.

“Cause I’m just gonna chase after you.”

“Yeah? Gonna show up at my apartment with beer I don’t like?” You tease, and he rolls his eyes.

“Fuck you.” He says with absolutely no venom behind it.

“Yeah, maybe you should.” You grin.

#dabi x reader #dabi x female reader #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki x female reader #bnha x reader

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tired-teacher-blog · 2 months

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Listen, Dabi couldn't care less if you were a hero, a villain, or even a regular civilian, since he would treat you the same way regardless.

You had been stuck -for the longest time- in a whirlpool of doubt and self pity, wondering if you actually meant anything at all to the infamous villain, a question that had proven to be hard to answer due to the man's stoic and aloof personality as well as his rare showcase of emotions, and athough it is true you were his first and only woman, the awkwardness and rift that loomed over for weeks following your first night together, did nothing but confirm your doubts.

Not so much as a glance or a how-do-you-do, as if regretting the night of passion he had with you, no explanation whatsoever, none when he shunned you, and none when he sought you out again.

Yeah, you were a play thing to him, as worthless as you had always anticipated yourself to be.. or so you thought.

You once found yourself caught in a ferocious battle between the two parties, and while falling to the ground barely conscious, all you could think of was him.

_ "Get up! Get the fuck up do you hear me?! Come on what the hell!" the words themselves were nothing you hadn't heard him yell out before, however the look on his face while he gently cradled your head and caressed your cheeks, while he kissed your forehead and carried you to safety, that look was something new.

It was fright, pure and evident, but also a softness that you had never witnessed before, so maybe, just maybe, you weren't just a nobody to him.

For days after that fateful one, a glimpse of hope appeared within you, and a determination to have an answer settled in your mind.

_ "You.. you were worried about me that day.. weren't you?" you struggled between labored breaths as he finally pulled out of your sopping heat.

_ "Would you let it go." he flumped back into bed, pleading with his pulse to settle, and placing his forearm over his face to escape your interrogation, despite that, there was no vexation to his words, it was more like he was.. bashful?

You remained quiet but only for a moment, a smile adorning your face as you watched him fidgeting nervously.

_ "I can't help but wonder though, why did you start avoiding me after our first night together?" you turned on your side to face him, placing both hands under your cheek as you waited.

_ "Are you fucking kidding me woman? I lost my virginity to you! How was I supposed to act around you after that? I needed some time damnit."

You were stunned witnessing his outburst, his forearm no longer covered his flushed face, and his typical relaxed expression was replaced with a twisted one. It was honestly comical.

_ "So that's what it was.." your words were no higher than a whisper as you allowed his own to sink in, "you do like me then, right?"

_ "What kinda' stupid question is that? Nothing is forcing me to be with you, okay?" and his frown only deepened as he attempted to keep his guard up.

You weren't as cool though, and hearing his distorted confession gave you a boost of confidence to comfortably divulge your own at last, "I like you too, I really do!"

You jumped to his chest and hugged him tightly, giggling and kicking your feet while he growled in annoyance.

_ "Yeah okay, I get it, now settle down." his grumpy expression remained, but his arms had moved to wrap around you while he kissed the top of your head.

Dabi couldn't care less if you were a hero, a villain, or even a regular civilian, because regardless of that, his feelings for you will remain sincere, even if he fails to declare them properly.

Divider by @/saradika

#dabi fluff #dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #dabi imagine #dabi headcanons #dabi smut #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki x you #touya todoroki fluff #touya todoroki headcanons #touya todoroki smut #dabi angst #touya todoroki #dabi x female reader #mha imagines #bnha imagines #mha fluff #bnha fluff

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harleys1nhawaii · 6 months

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TEASE [dabi / todoroki touya x fem!reader]

he's close, you easily can tell.

he's rocking his hips to your wet core harder each time, with no remorse. you're squeling, tears blur your vision. he knows what he's doing to you, how good he makes you feel, like nobody else can. you can hear his grunts and low hisses under his breath. god, you think, being this fine has to be unfair. once you finally manage to open you eyes, you stare up at him. he looked breathtaking with his head thrown back and mouth open, brows furrowed with desire and lust. and kind of...cute. you can't help but giggle at the sight. when your voice catches your own ears, you realize you might've put yourself in a situation you'll regret soon. he lookes down at you, with a slight smirk plastered on his face. if you weren't soaking already, you swore you'd cum just by looking at his face like that.

"what's up, dollface?" he rocks his hips harder this time and steals a low cry from you. but you're already under him and destroyed, so why not play along your little teasing as well? "you look cute when you're close." you cheekily grin. "oh, do i?" now, his smile is bigger than yours. he brings his thumb to wipe the tears peeking around the corners of your eyes as he slams his body to yours one more time. "let's see how ya look like then, shall we?" he purrs. once you see how his eyes darken and his grip on your waist gets rougher, it's your time to panic.

he was close, you swore he was close. but when you came sooner than him it was frustrating. little did you know, though, he wasn't going to stop. not after your silly little teasing. he wasn't going to stop until he could cheekily observe your cumming face enough to picture it for any other time, later.

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stxrrydreamss · 1 year

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Reblog this if you want Dabi to slut you out.

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kleftiko · 7 months

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❦ LET’S MAKE A MOVIE

“your boyfriend decides that the best way to show others that you’re his is to make a movie with you as the leading actress”

cw: slight dubcon (dabi doesn’t ask the reader before recording, but they’re into it), recording, blowjob, facial, possessiveness, praise, cum eating

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

You were a pretty girl, you were going to gain attention. The league didn't have many members—even fewer women—so it wasn't hard for you to stand out effortlessly. You constantly got looks or special treatment, and it was always harmless. When you and Dabi started dating, he loved that everyone wanted you. The thought that he alone got to kiss you had him making out with you in front of the others more than once just to show you off. However, as time went on, Dabi's possessiveness began to overshadow his initial admiration. He started to want more, feeling like he needed to mark his territory and assert his dominance over you.

He just felt like the other guys needed a reminder that you were his.

So when he saw you sitting with Shigaraki, the two of you having lunch, he didn't like how his blood boiled as you giggled at him and let him brush off the crumbs from your mouth that you kept missing. He brushed past the both of you and told you he wanted to see you in your room.

"C'mere, pretty thing." Your boyfriend called. He was sitting on the unmade bed, fingers curled to beckon you over to him.

With a smile on your face, you moved between his open legs, sinking into his touch as his scarred hands traced your body. You didn't react when he slipped under your shorts; you were too focused on the look in his eyes.

"No wonder those bastards can't keep their eyes off you." He muttered, grabbing the flesh of your ass under your clothes. You rested your hands on his shoulders, knowing what he was alluding to but not giving it much thought.

"You know I'm yours, right?" You said, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Of course I do." He pulls you closer to him, making you trip and stumble into his chest. "But I want the others to know too."

You felt a mix of excitement and hesitation as he spoke those words. It was clear that he wanted to stake his claim on you, but a part of you wondered if it was necessary for others to know about your relationship. Nonetheless, you couldn't deny the thrill that coursed through you as he pulled you closer, making it clear that he wanted everyone to see that you were his.

"And what do you propose?" You hummed, your voice laced with curiosity. As you looked into his eyes, you couldn't help but wonder what he had in mind. You two weren't proper by any means, but there were quite a few things you could think of that made your cheeks heat up. A mischievous smile played on his lips as he leaned in, whispering a command that sent a shiver down your spine.

"On your knees."

You obeyed easily; the thrill of his dominance always sent a rush of excitement through your body. But you were not granted any praise, as he smiled darkly at you. Instead, he reached down and grabbed the back of your head, pulling you closer to his legs, his jeans having formed a slight tent.

You can't help the grin you give as you get to work undoing his pants.

He sighed as you pulled down the zipper.

"Don't even have to tell you what I want, baby; you're so good to me."

You feel a sense of pride and satisfaction at his words, knowing that you have pleased him without him even having to ask. All you want is to continue to do that.

As you slowly slide his pants down, revealing his growing excitement, a surge of arousal courses through your veins. The intensity of the moment fuels your determination to exceed his expectations and leave him breathless with pleasure.

Massaging at the bulge in his boxers, you revelled in the sounds he made and brought down your lips to leave wet kisses through the fabric. You can feel his body tense with anticipation as you tease him, making him yearn for more. With each kiss, you can sense his desire building, and it only fuels your own eagerness to satisfy him completely.

After soaking him through, you eagerly grasped at his briefs and pulled them off, wanting to put your mouth to good use. As you freed him from his constraints, his hardened length sprang free, glistening with anticipation. Your tongue traced along the throbbing vein, eliciting a low moan from him that fueled your hunger even more. The addictive taste of him on your lips only intensified your eagerness to bring him to the brink of ecstasy, making your eyes nearly roll back at the mere thought. You continued to trace every inch of his heavy and pulsating cock, savouring the intoxicating mixture of his desire and your spit. With each gentle flick of your tongue, his hisses grew harsher, driving you to push him further towards pleasure just to hear his praises. The electrifying feeling between you fueled a hunger that could only be satisfied by taking him deeper into your mouth, but before you could take more of him, he stopped you.

⁠⁠⁠⁠With a whimper, you looked up at him, your doe-like eyes coming to rest on his phone instead of his beautiful face. Confused, but not wanting to take him out of your mouth, you hummed, wanting an answer.

His hand came up and rested atop your head, and you closed your eyes to relish the touch.

"Don't worry about this, pretty girl," your boyfriend cooed, "just put on a show for your audience."

The camera picked up on the glitter in your eyes upon your realization of what was going on. You felt a surge of excitement as you realized that you were being filmed, adding an extra layer of thrill to the situation. The thought of performing for an audience ignited a newfound confidence within you as well as neediness, making you shift in an attempt to feel some friction on your pussy.

"Make it messy, baby." He told you, and you went to work.

As you started to move, your body responded to the command, fueled by a mix of anticipation and desire. The camera captured every moment, intensifying the adrenaline rushing through your veins. With each deliberate motion, you pushed yourself further, embracing the freedom of expression and the intoxicating power of being watched.

You willed yourself to dribble more spit onto his cock, mixing it with his salty precum and creating a slick lubrication for your mouth to slide on. As you slowly coaxed him to the back of your throat, you kept eye contact with the camera above you, feeling a sense of liberation and exhilaration. The camera's presence heightened your desire to showcase your uninhibited passion, knowing that every movement and expression would be immortalized on film for an unknown audience to witness.

The hand at the back of your head applied pressure, forcing your nose into his pubic hair and the tip of his cock against the back of your throat. You let out a small choke, not having breathed before you took him all the way, but the smile he gave you made it worth it.

"Such a good girl," he groaned, "want me to fuck your throat?"

Your eyes lit up, and you eagerly nodded.

Touya quickly adjusted himself, bringing your beautiful face into focus on the camera and securing the hand cradling your head. Slowly, he peeled you off his dick, leaving the tip between your soft lips as drool fell. Then he slammed you back down without warning, causing you to choke audibly, but he continued on. The intensity of the moment overwhelmed you, but the trust and connection between you and Touya fueled your desire to please him. As he relentlessly pushed you to your limits, a mix of pleasure and pain coursed through your body, heightening the experience beyond words. You found yourself grinding against the floor, searching for your own release, desperate for the climax that was building within you just from being used by your boyfriend. Every thrust from Touya sent waves of ecstasy through your being, pushing you closer to the edge. The room filled with the sounds of your moans and his grunts—a symphony of lust and appetite. You surrendered completely to the man above you, even as tears pricked at your eyes and your face heated up from a lack of oxygen. It was pure bliss to be the object of his desire and to feel his power over you.

You sniffled, trying desperately to catch your breath but not wanting Touya to stop. You clung onto him, craving more of his intoxicating touch and the overwhelming pleasure it brought. As your body trembled with anticipation, you silently prayed that he would continue to take you to new heights of ecstasy, even if it meant sacrificing a momentary respite for the sake of his unyielding dominance.

But then he stopped. Your heart sank as you looked up at him for an answer.

Touya's thumb came to the corner of your mouth and stroked it affectionately—the same spot where Shigaraki had cleaned the crumbs off you. He cooed.

"Poor baby, you want me to stop?" He asked, and you whimpered wantonly, shaking your head as your tears coated your lashes before you looked up into the camera. The worst thing he could do to you at the moment would be to take himself away from you.

"That's my girl." He said and continued to fuck your face.

Your eyes rolled back in bliss, your mind consumed by pleasure as you surrendered completely to his control. Every thrust brought you closer to the edge, your body trembling with anticipation. The intensity of the moment was overwhelming, and you couldn't help but lose yourself in the ecstasy of it all.

As the noises he made grew in urgency, you could tell that he was coming to his high. The sound of his ragged breaths and the tightening grip on your hair indicated his impending release, and you eagerly welcomed it.

"Lemme paint your pretty face, sweetheart." He gasped, and you released him from your mouth.

Touya grasped his cock, stroking it vigorously as he aimed for you. The anticipation built as you closed your eyes and stuck out your tongue obediently, ready to feel his release on your skin. The moment his warm cum splattered across your face, a mix of satisfaction and exhilaration washed over you, making you feel on cloud nine.

Without touching anything, you blinked up at him, waiting for him to tell you how good you were. All he could muster, though, was a groan.

The look you gave him was downright pornographic: cum covering your face, tears staining your lashes, and red cheeks as you heavily caught your breath. He couldn't help but swipe at that same corner of your lip, collecting his cum and pushing it into your mouth, where you sucked it off.

"Good fucking girl." He breathed.

A few minutes later, after he cleaned you up and let you cuddle into him to fall asleep, he started scrolling on his phone. Knowing exactly who he wanted to see the video first, his thumb lingered over a specific contact.

Not even a minute later, Shigaraki sent him a reply, and Touya smirked at the

fuck you.

#kleftiko’s kinktober #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha smut #bnha smut #dabi x reader #dabi smut #dabi x y/n #dabi x female reader #dabi x you #todoroki toya x reader #todoroki touya #todoroki smut #todoroki x reader #touya x reader

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dabisqueen · 8 months

Text

Relax (It'll hurt less)

Yandere!Dabi x fem!Reader

⇢ word count: roughly 2.3K

⇢ plot: Dabi only knows of one way to make you remember his name

⇢ warnings: Minors DNI, NONCON, use of fire quirk, arrogant and cocky Dabi who is a virgin (fight me over it) and fucks for the first time, user is tied up (bondage/rope play?), size kink, no prep, unprotected penetration, Dabi is a bit rough towards the reader, creampie, lots of cum

⇢ thank you @/blankexpressions-and-falsefires for being my beta again!

⚠️This fiction contains yandere-themed dark content! Proceed and read at own discretion⚠️

If you'd known that the night would take this turn, you'd have chosen to stay home.

After missing the last bus home due to running late and then not having enough money to call a cab, you are forced to walk home. As a gust of wind blows some leaves across your path, you imagine what might happen if some thug jumped out with the intent to rob you... But stuff like that only happens in movies, don’t they? You quietly laugh. The thought is a bit silly. You'll probably just continue walking alone down the murky street like you always do, with nothing happening. Reassured, you stick your hand into your pocket and focus your attention on the pavement below, occasionally checking on the map to make sure you're still heading the right way.

You blindly follow the directions on your cell phone, completely oblivious to what part of town you are passing through. It’s not like there are any signs warning you "Stay the fuck out, villains ahead!"

You make the foolish decision to try and comfort yourself during the tedious walk home. Popping your earbuds in, you put on your favorite music to drown out the sounds of the night around you.

A quick movement ahead catches your attention. Your eyes snap up, your heart suddenly beating frantically as you spot the cause of the abrupt motion. A man stumbles backward from a door with a terrified expression on his face, followed by an enormous blue flame billowing towards him which engulfs him completely within seconds. The force of the sudden combustion knocks you right off your feet and you fly backward, a weightlessness encompassing your body before gravity cruelly pulls you back down.

Your back and head crash against the blacktop street and everything instantly fades to black. You don't know how long you'd been unconscious, but as you open your eyes, all you see is darkness and streaks of blue. The stench of burnt flesh creeps up your nostrils, making your stomach churn. You struggle to get up but your body doesn't respond. Instead, you hear a man's husky voice speak near you. "Well, well, well, who do we have here? Such a pretty little thing."

His voice sounds muted like he’s talking through a wall. That's all you hear before nausea and pain take over and the world around you fades again.

You stir awake with a jostle, a thin mist clouding your vision. Your body is cradled against another. It’s warm, but smells of burnt hair and smoke. It would be comforting if only you would know whose arms you are in. You try to move, but a pain instantly shoots up your spine, overwhelming you until your vision goes dark again.

As you regain consciousness this time, your eyes slowly adjust to the low light, dimmed to almost nothing. Your head still slightly throbs, but the worst of the pain is gone. Blinking a few times, the foggy veil lifts from your eyes and you start to take in the details. You're in a small room. Despite the lack of any decoration, it is very tidy and clean.

Then you notice him and freeze, the fog in your mind instantly clearing.

He stands a few feet away. He is tall, dressed in black pants with stitching and a white shirt. Raven hair standing in spikes, marred skin under his eyes and from his cheeks down to his chest. The tip of a cigarette glows an eerie red as he takes a drag and slowly exhales again. His teal eyes, bright in the dark light, pierce through the smoke, taking you in.

"Finally awake, huh?" He rasps.

Frantically, you try to get up but a sharp pain shoots through your arms as the ropes around your wrists dig painfully into your skin. To your horror, you realize that you're tied up to the rods of a rusty bed frame, immobilized with your wrists pulled taut, lying on a shitty, sunken mattress.

"Just some precautionary measures, sweetheart." He cocks his head, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Please, untie me!" You stammer but he just flips the bud of his cigarette across the room and ignores you.

"Man, killing always makes me so tense." Interlocking his fingers, he raises his arms, his obliques tightening and biceps bulging as he stretches until his knuckles crack.

Cocking his head left and right, he slowly lowers his gaze. His bright azure irises focus back on you as a cheeky smirk starts to form on his face.

"Sir, please let me go.” You whimper as your hands tremble violently against the bonds.

"Sir?!" A brow quirks as he clicks his tongue. "I think you know my name."

He takes a few steps, closing the gap between you and him. Leaning forward, his long finger trails along your cheek with false affection. "Say it."

You writhe, eyes pricking with tears. "Mister, I-I can't–"

"Don't piss me off." His expression turns sour. "You seriously don't know who I am? Don't you watch the news?"

"I-I don't have a TV," you stammer, your cheeks burning at his harsh tone.

"Well, that's too bad." His hand slips into your hair, yanking your head back, forcing your gaze to meet his. He's so close, that you smell the stale cigarette tainting his breath, the faint scent of burnt flesh on him is almost nauseating.

"I'll tell you, then. And I’ll make sure you never forget it." He spits, crystalline blue eyes so cold that they send a shiver down your spine.

It's then that a pertinent memory comes flooding back to you– you’d overheard some people chatting on the train. A villain. Black spiky hair, scars all over his body, and eyes like the endless depths of the ocean. One with a quirk that summoned blue flames so hot they melt the flesh right off of bones. His name–

–Dabi.

Your throat tightens, and you gulp as your eyes widen in recognition.

Dabi notices, causing his lips to curl into a smug smirk. "Ah, so you’ve figured it out, huh?"

"Y-yes Sir–or, no– Dabi!" You almost scream out his name, "I promise, I'll never forget, please untie me!"

But he doesn't seem to hear your words, his gaze is far away, an impassive expression on his face.

"Man, I really need to unwind." Lolling his head to the side. "Sako always says the best way to blow off steam is to shoot a load."

His eyes fall back to yours while his smirk widens, showing his canines. A pit forms in your stomach as it dawns on you where this is going to lead.

"I know of a way to make sure you'll never forget my name–" Dabi kneels beside you, the cheap bed dipping and squeaking under his weight. He's looking down on you in a way that makes your hair stand on end. As he reaches for your legs, you're trying your best to keep them closed. But he is much stronger, spreading them with ease.

Positioning himself between your legs, he moves his body close, his hips pressing against your core. It's then when you feel the heat from something huge – a bulge – in his pants, right underneath the stitches. You gulp in disbelief.

"I have to admit, I've never done this before," he chuckles, hooking his thumbs under the seams of his pants, slowly pulling them. "So, cut me some slack, will ya?"

A thick, pierced cock slaps against his abdomen, enormous in length and girth. Your eyes feel like they’re bugging out of your head as you look at his engorged member. Shaking your head, you plead, "It's too big, it won't fit!"

Dabi's gaze drops to evaluate his throbbing dick and he laughs. "Yeah I know, the Doc kinda went overboard with the replacement."

His eyes snap up to your face, his smile vanishes as he hums in that sickly sweet voice. "Regardless, better too much than too little, right?"

His large calloused hands wrap around your hips and you fidget and try to squirm out of his grip but it only strengthens as he pulls you back towards him. Your arms straighten out, painfully so, straining against the ropes cutting into your skin.

Panic sets in, making your blood rush and your limbs shake, as he lays a hand flat on your mound, blue flames starting to flicker across the fabric of your pants and then undies, incinerating them. The pain from the burn loosens the tears as they start streaming freely down your temples now.

Accompanied by your sobs, he takes his thick length in his palm, his free hand sliding over your now exposed folds, calloused fingers spreading your cunt.

"Damn, what a sight.” He chuckles as he aligns himself at the entrance of your quivering cunt. "Hope I'm doing this right."

You sob as he drops a gob of spit on his cock and edges against your entrance, shushing you. “Relax, I know you can take it.”

Without further warning, he plunges the fat tip of his cock into you. You cry out at the stretch, your dry walls burning without any preparation. You try to get away, to lessen the stretch, but he has your petite body pinned beneath his larger, muscular one.

With an enraptured expression on his face, he watches his dick inch its way in. His thick, rough fingers dig into your squishy waist, as he continues pushing his way into you. You whimper when Dabi stares at your soft tummy, admiring the bump that forms where his dick bullies against your cervix.

"Well, fuck me, ain't this the shit?" he chuckles, slightly breathless already.

The grip on your waist remains firm as he pulls out his cock, making you gasp at the sudden emptiness. But before you have time to react, he’s slamming himself back into you again.

Then his hips start moving at a slow and gradual pace, pulling you back each time to meet his thrusts. The lewd sound of his balls slapping against your ass fills the room. your whimpers seem to only spur him on as he continues thrusting into you.

"Oh fuck, this is amazing. I'm gonna—" Dabi groans, slamming his cock into you even faster, "—shit, if you keep gripping me like this, I’m not gonna last."

“Please, stop!” You sob, but he is beyond listening. With his eyes closed, sweat dripping down his temples, he is lost in delirious pleasure.

“You're so tight, taking me so well, doll." He laughs when you whimper in response.

Involuntarily clenching down on his cock, you squirm each time he bottoms out. He makes sure you can feel each barbell of his piercings, every pulsing vein of his thick cock. The harsh force of his quick, rough thrusts makes your mind go blank.

"Gonna cum soon. Keep squeezing my cock like that and I won't be able to pull out." He groans, smooth and deep, admonishing you as if any of this is your fault.

All you can do is respond with a whine, your body completely helpless.

“I’m close, baby, look at me,” he digs his fingers into your flesh, pulling you even closer. "What's my name? Say it!"

"Dabi– please, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry but you're hurting me!" You beg between sobs.

He doesn't hear your words, or he doesn't care. He's slamming into you now, his thrusts growing deeper and harder.

"Oh yeah, take it –fuck– I'm gonna fucking fill you up so good–" Dabi gasps, groaning unabashedly.

Then he tosses his head back, and with a low growl and a last stuttering thrust, he shoots his white release inside, coating your inner walls with his cum. You feel him twitch inside you, feel his warmth filling you up and seeping out, it's so much.

Dabi collapses on top of you, breathing hard. His head falls forward to rest against your cheek, the sweat from his forehead mixing with the tears on your damp skin.

After his breathing evens out, he pulls back to face you, strands of his black hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. "Shit, that was so fuckin’ good.”

He stays like this, his cock slowly shrinking inside your sore cunt, while his hot cum drips down your ass. The feeling of it creeps through your spine, making your face glow with hot shame. You turn your head away, closing your eyes in defeat. His weight on you suddenly feels suffocating, adding to the crushing, inescapable heft of anxiety on your chest. It feels like an eternity, with him draped over you, both of your breathing starting to even out. Eventually, you muster the courage to speak.

"C- Can I go now?" You whimper, hopefully.

"Yeah, yeah…" he sighs and moves to pull out. Using the bedsheets to wipe the remnants of his release from his skin, he continues by tucking himself away.

Finally, you think of going home, for this nightmare to be over and to forget this god-awful night. A sharp-edged euphoria washes through your limbs and your eyes flare with excitement as hope spirals up inside you.

"On the other hand–" he stalls, contemplating. "This definitely helped me wind down."

Stepping close, he lowers his face to brush his lips against the rim of your ear and dashes whatever hope you had left with a final, whispered sentence. "I think I'm gonna keep you."

#dabi smut #dabi x reader smut #dabi x you smut #dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi x female reader #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #mha dabi #bnha dabi #dabi todoroki #dabi #dabi my hero academia #touya todoroki #todoroki touya #mha smut #bnha smut #lov smut #tw noncon

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museum-mind · 13 days

Text

THE WOMAN AT THE STORE

ᯓ★ the strange, hot, customer who always buys hair dye at the convenience store you work at is interested in you..?

beep, beep, beep!

another customer, you sigh, straightening your posture as you dust off the shirt of your uniform. working at a convenience store sure was boring..

your eyes widened slightly, noticing the familiar man; he’s quite.. odd, to say the least. he wears a heavy leather jacket, and he seems to have more piercings each time he stops by to buy yet another, box of pitch black hair dye.

the first time he came in, he walked over to the counter where you were stood — shaking nervously, thinking that he was a robber — and asked in a gruff voice; “this is the darkest shade you’ve got, yeah?”

you were surprised, he had the prettiest white hair you’ve ever seen! it almost reminded you of an old friend. why would he want to dye it?

however, it wasn’t your place to inquire about his choice of hair colour, so you simply nodded and continued to live your life as you would.

he was a regular customer from then on.

he’d step inside the store, teal eyes scanning the area as his eyes land on your form. you, the woman at the cashier.

he had to admit, you were nice to look at; pretty features, and a good figure.

he didn’t even bother acknowledging you, though. instead he trudged towards the box dye section — it was muscle memory at this point.

when he finally stood in front of you at the counter, he felt today was a little different. somehow.

“hello, sir. will this be all for today?” you ask, same as every other time. your fingers are tapping at the cash register; you already know what he’s going to say.

“no, actually.” he cuts you off. “i need something else..” he’d start, peering up at you through his lashes.

you can’t hide the slightly surprised expression on your face as you nod slowly, raising an eyebrow.

“can i get your number?” he purrs, leaning over the counter as one hand digs into the pocket of his jacket.

why did he say that? he asks himself.

“oh?” you say, eyes wide. “i mean, alright— um, give me a moment.”

you’re quick to print out his receipt and pull out a pen, scribbling down your number with a small smiley face next to it.

“here.” you breathe out, looking back up at the intimidating man.

he nods in response, an unreadable expression on his face as he folds the receipt and stuffs it in his pocket.

he waves slightly, before making his way back out of the store — was it always this hot, or was summer approaching?

part 2??

#mha dabi #bnha dabi #dabi todoroki #mha #mha x reader #mha fanfiction #dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #dabi x female reader #touya todoroki #touya x reader #touya x y/n

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haikyuuwaifu · 9 months

Text

3. Touya Todoroki

Genre: Humor, Fluff

Warnings: Name calling, Swearing, Mentions of children figthing

MASTERLIST

Ryosuki Bakugo let out an annoyed huff, his little arms crossing over his little chest. Next to him, Daisuke Todoroki shot him a glare, sticking his little pink tongue out. Ryo flipped the other boy the finger, pulling his lower eyelid down. Before Daisuke could retaliate, the teacher's door slammed open. Ryo let out a breath of relief at the sight of his father. Behind him, he noticed a man covered in the same markings his Papa Shinsou had, piquing his curiosity. Daisuke tried to shrink in his seat, unable to miss the glare his father sent him. Their teacher came trailing after Daisuke’s father, a frown on her face. “Thank you both for coming in.” She began taking a seat behind her desk. “There was another incident during recess, and as much as we’ve tried to resolve the issues internally, today; both boys put their hands on one another.” She began, giving Ryosuki and Daisuke a stare. Both boys flushed sheepishly, as their fathers faces hardened. “Who started the damn fight?” Bakugo barked, eyeing the other little boy. Touya let out a scoff crossing his arms. “It was probably your kid. Must be poor home training.” He supplied, giving Katsuki a look. The blonde sneered, standing up to his full height. “You wanna run that by me again mother fucker?” He snarled, as Touya stood up to meet him. “I didn’t fucking stutter fuckface.” Touya snarled, causing Katsuki to gnash his teeth. Both little boys quickly left their seats to hide behind their teacher’s desk.

An hour later found both Bakugo’s sitting on a bench outside the school building. Katsuki was sporting a black eye and a bruised lip. On the other bench, Touya looked no better, his nose covered in dry blood and one eye swollen shut. Daisuke and Ryosuki said nothing, both too afraid to speak. Ryo knew as soon as his mother showed up he and his father would be in for it. Katsuki winced as he saw his ex-girlfriend’s car pull into the front of the school. Putting the car in park, the driver side door was flung open, and Katsuki was met with a face filled with absolute rage. “Katsuki Bakugo, what the absolute- Suki earmuffs baby,” She side shouted, marching over toward the two. The little boy covered his ears, watching as Daisuke had done the same. “What the absolute fuck is wrong with you? You’re a grown ass man!” She hissed, reaching out to smack him with her bag. “How could you go and get into a fucking fight in front of you son? In front of his teacher!” Bakugo let out a wince as he tried to cover himself. “Ow!” He shouted, trying to dodge. “It wasn’t all my fault you shitty woman!” The blonde barked, as he dodged Y/n’s blows. “I don’t care who’s fault it was. You are too old to be fighting another fucking parent.” She snarled, eyes blazing.

“And you!” She barked, pointing at Touya. “You should know better than to put your hands on another parent, let alone in front of your fucking son.” Touya winced, his cheeks tinting pink. “You two should be ashamed of yourselves!” She screamed, throwing her bag on the floor. “I can’t believe the two of you have children if you’re going to fucking act like this!” Behind her, Daisuke spotted his grandfather’s SUV. Enji Todoroki stepped out of the driver's side, his face set in stone. “I can’t believe the two of you have the fucking nerve.” Y/n hissed, as the fathers and their sons watched Enji approach. “Y/n?” Enji hummed, causing the woman to twist her head in his direction. “Enji!” She smiled, giving him a friendly wave. “I didn’t know your son went to school here.” The man quipped, pulling Y/n’s attention away from the group she had been previously yelling at. “Yep. This is the school your grandson goes to?” Enji nodded, motioning toward Daisuke. “That’s him right there, and my oldest Touya.” Y/n turned, giving the older Todoroki a glare. “This is my son Ryosuki and his father Katsuki. The two men decided they were going to get into a fist fight in the classroom.” Y/n huffed as Enji rolled his eyes. “I’ll head inside and see what I can do to mend the damage. You get your boy home.” Enji supplied, as Y/n gave him a friendly hug. “I’ll drop by in the morning with a breakfast basket.” Enji looked over at his son and his grandson. “Take him home and get him ready for bed. If I’m back before then, the three of us are going to have a talk.” Enji hissed, causing Daisuke to fold into himself. Touya said nothing, moving to stand. Y/n had reached over to get her bag, but Daisuke was faster. Reaching up he handed her the bag and bowed lowly. “I’m sorry ma’am.” Y/n only smiled ruffling the little boy's hair. Motioning toward Katsuki and Ryo, she nodded toward the car. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow, Enji.” She called behind her as she followed her family to the car. When the woman was out of hearing distance, Daisuke whispered; “Ryo’s mama is scary as fuck pop.” Touya could only grunt in agreement as the two made their way to the car.

In the comfort of their home, Katsuki sat quietly as the mother of his child and his husband gave him a verbal lashing. “It doesn’t matter who started the fight Suki, they’re children.” Shinsou sighed, taking a sip of his wine. “I can’t believe you got into a fight with another parent.” Bakugo let out a long sigh, leaning his head back against his chair. “I hate how fucking right you two are.” He griped, ignoring the way his two favorite people shared a smile. Ryo had been put to bed after a stern talking to from his mother. “Because you got into that fight, you don’t even know what started between the two boys.” Y/n scoffed, rolling her eyes. Katsuki gave her the finger and Shinsou snorted. “Was he hot though?” The purple haired man whispered loudly, giving Y/n a wink. “So fucking hot.” The woman supplied, both friends laughing as Bakugo moved to throw his napkin at them. In the Todoroki home, Touya was trying not to chug his liquor as his father gave his husband the play by play of the fight itself. Oboro let out ugly wheezes as he laughed and laughed. “You and the other boy's father will be volunteering at the school carnival this weekend to make up for the fight.” Enji supplied, taking a swig of his whiskey. Touya could only grunt his agreeance unwilling to give his father a verbal response. “Daisuke will apologize to the other boy tomorrow as well. He was the one who started it.” Touya gave his father a curious look, as Oboro poured the trio another round. “He told me before bedtime that he had said something to Ryosuki about his mother. He won’t tell me what it was, but from what I understand it wasn’t very nice.” “It’s crazy that Y/n’s son goes to school with our little Daisuke.” Oboro hummed, taking a bite of the dessert he’d made earlier. “Who the hell is Y/n?” Touya grunted, reaching out to take a piece. “She works at the company with me. From what I understand, she’s not married to the father of her child.” Enji supplied, taking another drink. “She’s one of the best employees we have and I consider her a friend. You will apologize to the boy's father as well.” Touya could only give his father the finger, as he downed the rest of his drink.

The next morning, Daisuke entered the classroom ready to apologize. Daisuke was surprised to see Ryosuki by the door. The other child was holding a bento, his cheeks red. “I’m sorry I hit you.” Ryo mumbled, holding out the bento box. “I’m sorry I said really mean things about your mom.” Daisuke whispered, holding the box gingerly. “I don’t have one, so I was just jealous.” He supplied, moving to hang up his backpack. Their teacher watched on the sidelines, ensuring everything was well. “It’s okay. So long as you didn’t really mean it.” Ryo supplied shrugging. “Your mom is really scary.” Daisuke giggled, causing the other boy to grin. “She is right! It’s so cool! She made lunch for you today though, because she shows love with food or something; I don’t know I stopped listening after she said cookies.” The boy huffed, causing their teacher to giggle. “BUT she said that my dad and your dad are gonna help at the carnival this weekend!” Daisuke looked contemplative, before voicing his thought. “Is your mom gonna be there?” Ryo gave him a nod, eyes filled with curiosity. “Would…do you think I can meet your mom?” Daisuke mumbled sheepishly, looking down at his shoes. “Course you can!” Ryo shouted, patting the other boys back. “We can even share! I have two dads but I’ve always wanted a brother.” Daisuke’s face broke out into a grin. “My dad says brothers are lame, but I think it’s because he’s lame.” The boy whispered. Their teachers heart was melting, as she made a note to update Y/n.

That weekend found the Bakugo family, grandparents included, attending the school carnival. Mitsuki laughed for days after she found out about her son getting into a fight with another parent. Masaru only sighed, as he, Y/n, and Shinsou voiced their annoyance in low whispers. “Daisuke’s really excited to meet you mama. He says you’re really scary, but he’s really sorry for saying bad things about you.” Ryo grunted, giving his moms hand a squeeze. Y/n only smiled, sharing a look with Hitoshi. Katsuki had left earlier to help with the carnival set up. Both friends knew the blonde would be at his wits end by the time they showed up. On the playground, Bakugo took a long swig from his water bottle, wiping the sweat dripping down his face. Next to him Touya had finished his water, crushing the plastic container. Both men had yet to vocalize an apology, neither one wanting to cave first. After a few more minutes of tense silence Touya finally spoke. “I’m...I’m sorry for what Daisuke said about your girlfriend.” Touya mumbled, unwilling to look the other man in the eye. Katsuki blinked owlishly, before snorting. “Y/n’s not my girlfriend dumbass. She’s my best friend. I’m actually married, to a man by the way, she and I just share a child together.” The blonde man replied, taking in the surrounding area. He could see the rest of Touya’s siblings scattered about. He noticed his parents at the gymnasium entrance, and glared at the sight of his childhood neighbors curly green hair. Touya watched Bakugo’s face change to absolute annoyance, and he found his curiosity peaked. “That’s fuckface Deku. We grew up together and he’s always had some weird fascination with Y/n.” The blonde supplied, watching the other man like a hawk.

“What does it matter to you if some other guy is interested in your ex?” Touya questioned, as he tried to locate his own son. “Suki doesn’t like him, and it’s not just because I don’t like him.” Katsuki answered, settling his hands on his hips. “The kid’s got a thing about people, and if he doesn’t like them of his own accord, then I’m gonna trust his fucking judgement.” Before Touya could say anything more, Ryosuki and Daisuke had come barreling toward the two. “Dad! Look!” Daisuke crowed, showing his father his kimono. It was nice, decked out in his favorite colors and a few of his favorite characters. It fit the boy well. “Miss Y/n brought it for me!” He mumbled, a small smile on his face. Ryo had taken his best friends hand before looking his father in the eye. “I told Ma we wanted to match for the carnival.” Touya looked over at Katsuki, but the man’s eyes were still on the other side of the carnival. “Y/n loves kids. She’s not gonna say no when it comes to cute shit like that.” Katsuki supplied looking down at the two boys. “You look great buddy.” Touya supplied, patting his son’s head. “Your tattoos are really neat!” Ryosuki shouted, eyeing the one on Touya’s arm. “You like tattoos little man?” Katsuki only snorted, rolling his eyes. “Kid loves tattoos. It was one of the first things he noticed about my husband, and he was still a toddler at the time.” “Grandpa Sho does papa’s tattoos and a lot of mama’s tattoos all the time! He said he would teach me when I’m big like dad.” Ryo supplied, gripping Touya’s arm. Touya took in the boys words, his brain trying to connect where he’d heard the name “Sho” from. Giving the other man a bone, Katsuki decided to help him out.

“My father-in-law is Shouta Aizawa.” The blonde grinned, as Touya’s eyes widened. “Holy shit.” “Holy shit is right.” A voice stated, bringing everyone’s attention behind them. “Gramps!” Ryo shouted, making a beeline for the other man. Daisuke followed along a bit hesitant. Next to Shouta, Daisuke saw a tall blonde man, his hair in a high ponytail. “Hey hey hey little listener!” Hizashi smiled holding out his hand. “Hi!” Daisuke mumbled his cheeks pink. “We’re really good friends with your grandpa Oboro.” Hizashi supplied, as Shouta scoffed. “He’s an idiot.” Daisuke could only giggle, before nodding. “That’s what nana Rei says all the time.” Touya and Katsuki watched on, their squabble mostly forgotten. An hour later, Katsuki and Touya were sitting at a table they had reserved for their family. The boys were playing games with Touya’s brothers, while Fuyumi and Masaru were talking recipes. Mitsuki and Enji were currently engaged in a battle of wits, and Oboro, Shouta, and Hizashi were talking amongst themselves catching up. Touya and Katsuki had been talking. They’d found at that the two men actually had a lot in common. Katsuki’s husband found it hilarious and refused to let the blonde forget it. Touya could understand why the two got on. “I still can’t believe your dad is one of the greatest tattoo artists of all time.” Touya sighed, taking another swig of his beer. Shinsou could only shrug, running his fingers through his hair. “He’s always been just my dad. The same way Mitsuki has always been Katsuki’s mom even though she’s a fashion designer, and Enji has always been your dad and he’s a media mogul.” The other man could only grunt, his eyes scanning the area.

“If that fuck stick goes anywhere near Y/n I’ll break his arms.” Katsuki grumbled, taking another swig. By this point, Touya understood the man he had been bitching about was Izuku Midoriya. Shinsou had explained that Izuku had asked Y/n on multiple occasions and simply wouldn’t take no for an answer. Moving to stand, Touya let out a long sigh. “I’m going to stretch my legs and make sure my brothers aren’t teaching our children anything too terrible.” Katsuki only snorted, smiling a little. “Nothing could be worse than Denki Kaminari.” he called after him, settling into his husband’s arms. “You like him.” Shinsou teased, as Katsuki scoffed. “He’s alright.” Shinsou only rolled his eyes. “He’ll be good for her.” The man admonished as Katsuki watched Touya move through the carnival stalls. “They’ll be good for each other.” Touya made his way through the crowds and the people, his hands stuffed in his pockets. “I’ve told you repeatedly, I’m not interesting Midoriya, and if you keep asking I won’t be held liable for the fucking foot I’m going to shove up your ass.” Y/n snarled, gripping her bag. Izuku only smiled, moving a step closer. “It’s been years of playing this game Y/n. Just give in already.” He supplied, inching his face closer to hers. What he wasn’t expecting however, was a tattooed hand to come into his view, shoving his face out of the way. “She said fuck off right?” Touya hummed, taking a step in front of Y/n. “This isn’t any of your business Todoroki-san.” Izuku supplied, his lips in a tight smile. Touya could only shrug. “I’m making it my business now. Your stepfather is Yagi Toshinori right? A big partner for one of the companies my father does business with.” Touya asked, looking down at the other man. “What does that have to do with anything?” Izuku hissed glaring up at Touya. “If you don’t fuck off and leave her alone, I’ll get him involved. While it’s not the usual way I’d handle a creep like you; I figured I’d take the more diplomatic approach this time.” He supplied giving the man a grin.

Izuku could only snarl, turning to walk away. When he was gone, Touya turned around to see that Y/n digging around in her bag. “You alright sweetheart?” The man questioned, reaching out to touch her arm. “I’m fine. I was looking for something when he showed up.” She mumbled digging through her purse. Pulling out a small polaroid, she shouted in victory. “Their teacher gave me this, from the day after the fight!” She stated, giving the polaroid to the man. It was a picture of Daisuke and Ryosuki, smiling big and food stuck to their lips. “She said they’re practically brothers now. It’s so cute.” Y/n cooed, reaching in to take in the photo. Touya could smell whatever scent she was wearing and he felt his mouth water. “Can I,” He began rather hesitantly. He was going to stop himself when he looked up to see Katsuki making provocative motions toward him and Y/n. Y/n followed Touya’s line of sight and scoffed in embarrassment. “He’s such a fucking idiot.” She mumbled, causing the man beside her to laugh. “He’s just trying to help a friend.” Touya supplied, looking her up and down. “I’d really like to take you out.” Y/n gave him a look of consideration before nodding. “I’ll allow it, but no more fights.” She supplied, looping her arm through his own. “You can start by winning me a prize.” She winked, causing Touya to laugh. “Whatever you want sweetheart.”

A year later, Katsuki would take the credit by louding proclaiming that if he hadn’t whooped his best friends ass then he and Y/n wouldn’t even be getting married. Ryosuki and Daisuke were happy to be brothers and were excited to find out they would be having a baby sister months after the honeymoon.

also: Katsuki absolutely adores Y/n and Touya’s daughter to pieces and spoils her more than anyone <3

#out of the mouths of babes #bnha x reader #bnha x femal reader #bnha scenarios #bnha fanfiction #bnha bakugou #bnha #touya todoroki #bnha touya #dabi x reader #dabi x female reader #touya x reader #touya x female reader #bnha dabi

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dumbseee · 1 month

Text

watching.

dabi had one weakness, and it was you.

dabi x fem!reader.

warnings: bad english/grammar :p, mention of murder, violence.

genre: angst.

note: i want touya to have a happy ending :( / maybe i’ll do a part two.

you met touya in kindergarten, his mother was close to yours and introduced you to him because he was too shy to make friends by himself. you immediately handed out your tiny hand towards him with your biggest smile, while he looked at it with wary eyes. he looked up at his mother who nodded towards you and he grabbed your hand. that sealed your friendship with touya todoroki. ever since, you two were inseparable, always with one another and you still remember his gorgeous smile.

your mother was the one to break the news to you, she sat you down on the couch and muted the tv. you could feel that something was wrong, you saw how red and swollen her eyes were and when she took your hands, you felt her hands tremble slightly. when she told you that touya had passed away in a fire accident, you cried for weeks. you couldn’t sleep at all, your sleep was ruined by nightmares, you could hear touya’s screams, his cries for help. you wished you could’ve helped him, your quirk could’ve been useful since you could control water. but you were just a kid, how were you supposed to help?

years had passed and you still thought about touya, you stil kept the teddy bear he gifted you for your sixth’s birthday and you still hugged it tightly at night. sometimes you’d even talk to the sky, asking him if he had a good day up there or if he was watching over you from heaven. well, little did you know that touya was actually looking after you, but he was way closer to you than you thought.

when touya became dabi, he wanted to forget about his past, his only focus being taking his revenge on his father and destroying the hero society. but you kept popping up in his mind, he couldn’t forget you nor could he ignore the little voice whispering your name in his head. it wasn’t hard for him to find you, even years later, he quickly learned that you graduated on top of your classes, and became the number two’s hero, hawks’s personal assistant. when touya saw that, he laughed, apparently fate wanted these two to meet again. of course, touya needed hawks anyway for his plan, but you being his assistant was a major plus.

when he saw you for the first time in years, his breath got caught up in his throat as he witnessed how you blossomed into a gorgeous and confident woman. touya fell in love with you the minute he first saw you, back in kindergarten, but when he saw you again after so many years of being apart, he fell ten times harder. your hair had grown a little longer, now falling down your waist, your smile was still the prettiest sight he’d ever seen, your eyes still had that light in them, the light he’d been longing for since he left, and your laugh was still his favourite melody. he was completely down for you, he couldn’t stay away from you for too long, he needed to hold you, talk to you, take you. you belonged to him, and he couldn’t stand the fact that anyone could look at you, be close to you, meanwhile he had to hide in the shadows of the night, away from you.

touya followed you back home almost every night, he needed to make sure you made it safely inside your apartment he already broken into, when you were at work. he grinned when he walked into your room, it was so you, pictures of friends or family decorating your walls, painted a light pink while your bed was perfectly made. touya let himself fall on your bed, crossing his arms behind his head while he looked at the ceiling. if he closed his eyes he could hear your laugh, he could imagine a world where you two got to be together and live happily ever after, move in together, get married and have a ton of annoying gremlins running around and calling him dad. touya didn’t even feel the bloody tear that rolled down his scarred cheek. he let a dry laugh leave his lips. he could never have that life and be knew it.

as touya stood up and was ready to leave before you could comeback, he noticed the old teddy bear he gave you when you two were still innocent little kids. his eyes widened at the thought of you still thinking about him, after all these years. maybe you loved him too? maybe you were still looking for him? touya knew his family told the world that their eldest son tragically passed away in a fire, but he knew you couldn’t have fall for this stupid story. you were clever enough to know that he couldn’t have died like that. he couldn’t have left you behind, how could he? lost in his thoughts, touya didn’t even hear the sound of keys and the door opening before closing in a rather loud "thud". that sound made him regain his senses, for a second he considered staying there, in your room, waiting for you to come in and see him. but it wasn’t the right time, he’d comeback, and he’d comeback for you.

when you walked into your room, you frowned when you saw your bed all wrinkled up and your teddy bear on the floor. the faint smell of cigarette, wood and whiskey laying in the air as well. you opened the window but was surprised to see it slightly opened already. have you left it open this morning? you shrugged it off, you left in a hurry so it could’ve been the case. you started to strip away from your clothes, to take a quick shower, while touya landed on his two feet, he looked up at your window and grinned to himself. you never forgot him.

you noticed some strange changes in your life lately, the weird smell you smelt in your room a few weeks ago, kept coming back and you wondered where it could come from. you didn’t smoke so why would your room smell like cigarettes? same goes for alcohol, you never drank even a drop of whiskey, so why would it smell like it? your teddy bear kept moving places, you even considered your apartment being haunted, the idea kinda creeped you out, you hated ghosts. but it couldn’t be that, ghosts didn’t exist and even if they did, dead being couldn’t have a smell. you also had this weird feeling of being watched, no matter where you were, in a crowded room at work, in the subway, even in your room, you felt eyes on you and it scared you shitless. what if you had a stalker? what if a crazy serial killer was after you and you’d end up on those true crime documentaries? you shook your head and laughed at your own paranoia.

you turned around in your bed and smiled softly at your teddy bear, you grabbed it in your hands and lift it in the air. "you must think, i’m going insane hm?" you mumbled, a vague image of touya appeared in your mind, it was an old memory of him when you had scraped your knee pretty badly and touya carried you on his back till you arrived at your house. nobody was there so he went to look for a bandaid and helped you. he stayed with you till your mother came back from grocery shopping, even though it would make his father upset. without noticing it, a single tear rolled down your cheek. you cleared your throat and hugged the teddy bear, tightly against your chest. "i miss you so much, touya." you were curled up on your bed, hugging your last souvenir of touya and cried yourself to sleep. meanwhile, in the league’s hideout, touya is lying down on his bed, a hand behind his head and the other holding his phone. he had hidden a small camera inside the teddy bear when he sneaked into your apartment once. as weird as it sounds, touya only wanted to feel closer to you, hear your voice, you always slept with the teddy bear in your arms, which made him feel like he was actually laying next to you. "i miss you too, doll."

the next day, you came back from work, exhausted and frustrated from the bad day you had thanks to one of your coworkers. you were on the phone with your friend, letting out all your frustration. "seriously what is wrong with him? he always single me out during meetings, talking about how my ideas aren’t that good, how dare he? i’m way above him on the food chain, he tends to forget that a lot." you got into your room, smiled at your teddy bear, an habit you picked up a while ago, you removed your jacket and immediately put it back into your dresser. you put your hair up with a claw clip and sat in front of your vanity, removing your earrings while your friend was agreeing with you. "right? he’s so full of himself and does he think i don’t hear all the disgusting things he says about me to tanaka? this motherfucker really thinks i don’t see him looking under my skirt? ugh! i hate him so much, yuri!" you hummed in response to your friend’s answer, "you’re right, maybe i should tell hawks? he’s so sweet, i’m sure he’d help me out." you quickly ended the call after that, eager to wash yourself and eat before jumping on your sofa to watch your favourite comfort show. what you didn’t know is that a certain unstable fire villain heard everything and would take matters into his own hands before fuckass hawks could do anything.

when you went back to work the next day, something was going on and you felt it the second you walked into the building. one of your coworker quickly grabbed your arm to tell you the news. "terushima is dead!" he went straight to the point and your eyes almost came out your sockets. "he got killed by the villain dabi, you know him right? apparently he recorded the whole thing and poor terushima suffered so much, it was a terrible sight." you couldn’t speak, truly stunned by the news, what were the odds? you basically cursed him out a few hours ago and now he was dead? killed by no one but the infamous dabi? thinking about the villain made you shiver. "and that’s not it! dabi also tortured tanaka to have informations on terushima! he went to him first then went to terushima. tanaka is still at the hospital but apparently he’s alive." you felt nauseous all of a sudden, you took a step back and immediately ran away from your poor coworker, even as he called your name, you ran outside, inhaling fresh air as you felt sweat cover your forehead, your whole body was shaking from shock. you wouldn’t mourn terushima, he was a pain in your ass, and tanaka was nothing but a dirty pig as well. but the fact that you talked about these two men just yesterday and now one was dead and the other was at the hospital. the coincidence was too much for you, you called in sick and went back to your apartment.

you kicked your shoes and immediately went to the fridge to take out a fresh bottle of water, downing it almost entirely. you frowned when you saw a piece of paper sitting on your table. it was a handwritten note, you felt shiver down your spine as you read it.

"they won’t bother you anymore."

you let the note fall on the ground, your legs felt like jello now and you had to grab the counter to steady yourself before you could join the note on the floor. you struggled to breath as you now understood that the call you made yesterday and what happened to terushima and tanaka wasn’t a scary coincidence. the note wasn’t signed but you knew who left it here, dabi. dabi came here, dabi heard you, dabi took revenge for you, dabi knew you. but why would he do that? why would he take a liking to you? how could he even notice you? you were scared now, a villain was after you and you could be his next victim soon. you quickly grabbed your phone and started to dial hawks’s number. he was your boss but also your friend, he’d help you. but as you were about to dial the last digit, you felt a presence behind you. and you remember not closing the door. you swallowed the lump in your throat and slowly turned around, your eyes widened and you let out a small cry as you recognised dabi, in all his glory, hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable as he stood tall in your living room. he closed the door with his feet and looked at you.

"w-what are y-you doing here?" he came for you, he was going to murder you in your own home. you saw dabi chuckle and you almost fainted when you saw him take a step closer to you. he didn’t answer you, his eyes were weirdly familiar to you, a turquoise blue, same as touya’s. the thought of your old friend made you realise that you’d soon join him in the afterlife and somehow, the thought comforted you. dabi was now in front of you, a few inches separating you two as he looked down at you. "it’s been a while, y/n." his voice was deep, a little hoarse and you saw him smile softly at you. what the? thee dabi smiling? you were dreaming, it had to be a dream! or a nightmare. "i didn’t think you’d keep that old teddy bear for so long, but i’m glad that you did." and it hit you, almost instantly as the words left his mouth, you realised.

touya todoroki was in front of you. your touya.

silent tears immediately started to roll down your cheeks as you looked at his pretty eyes, his gorgeous turquoise orbs you so often thought about how nice it would feel to drown in them. silence fell upon you as your mind was spinning, you felt your legs give up on you and dabi was quick to grab you, both of his hands on your waist, yours pressed on his chest as you were still lost in your thoughts. you let a hand slowly stroke his cheek and he leaned into your touch, closing his eyes and letting out a sigh of relief. you quickly removed your hand, which made him frown. "t-touya?" your voice broke at the end of his name. "it’s me, y/n. i never left." now you were nothing but a sobbing mess, you didn’t know how to handle this. your touya was standing in front of you and you didn’t know how to take it. touya didn’t come back as the joyful and cheeky kid, he came back as a demon called dabi.

"you’re not my touya." you mumbled, pushing him away from you, you moved away so you were now giving your back to the door, just in case you had to run. touya felt his heart explode at your words. "how- how could you do this? what happened to you? what happened to the kid i used to know? this isn’t you. it can’t be!" you yelled, years blurring your vision, but you angrily wiped them away. of course, you weren’t aware of the trauma touya had to go through. "i can explain everything." he simply said, taking a step closer to you, this time you didn’t move away. "you can explain what? killing dozens of innocents? joining the league of villains? you’re literally one of the main instigator of this fucking league!" you pushed his chest, clearly still angry and touya couldn’t hold that against you. he just wanted to hold you, soothe you, tell you that everything would be fine. but touya couldn’t do that, because he didn’t know how to do that, he didn’t know how to react in these type of situations, no one ever comforted him, beside you. which explain the insane amount of patience he had right now, he knew he wouldn’t hurt you, he would never forgive himself if he did.

"i want you to leave." you said, looking up at him, eyes full of rage but also sadness. you were devastated, you dreamed of this moment, you never really believed that touya died in that fire. you always felt like he was still out there, doing god knows what, well you were right, but at what cost? touya felt anger and frustration build up inside of him, he wanted to yell at you, tell you that he had no choice, he had to continue with his plan, he had to take revenge, he had to. "not before you listen to me, then i’ll leave." you crossed your arms against your chest and gave hime the sign to continue. "the number one hero, endeavor." just saying his name made him want to burn this whole place, but you were here. touya took a deep breath and all of a sudden, he was back in kindergarten, in front of a pouty y/n who was waiting for an explanation as to why touya had broken your favourite doll. the memory almost made him smile, but now he was in front of a y/n that despised him and his actions, your beautiful eyes lacked their usual light, you threw daggers at him and he felt them stab his already broken heart. "you know what," he lift his hands up as surrender and headed towards the door. "you should take a day off tomorrow and watch the news." he smiled at you before leaving your apartment.

you couldn’t believe it, the moment he closed the door, you fell on the ground. bawling your eyes out, your heart yelled at you for not hugging him, not telling him how much you missed him, how hard you prayed for this day to happen. but your brain praised you for doing the right thing. touya did died in that fire, dabi was what remains. and dabi wasn’t your friend.

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artemis32 · 5 months

Text

Duplicity

Dabi / Touya Todoroki x reader (ft. Tomura Shigaraki & Keigo Takami)

****

First fic in yonks, and it's a dark one (seriously. read the warnings)

i have three other fics i'm working on that i'm hoping to have done in the next week or two :))

word count - 7.5k

tw: dark content, noncon / dubcon (mostly noncon), (pseudo) incest??, yandere, threesome, gangbang, vaginal sex, oral sex (both m and f receiving), throat fucking, slapping (not in a sexy way), praise, degradation, they're all pretty mean, voyeurism, choking (not in a sexy way), Dabi is called Touya pretty much the entire fic, and he has a Jacob's ladder, the big dick Shiggy agenda continues, violence, creampie, no protection (wrap it before you tap it kids), chasing, Touya has a thing for tits, some head injury (reader should really have that checked out), Keigo's kinda just there for the vibes tbh

bnha masterlist

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

The mumble is dejected, barely uttered under your breath, and promptly followed by a heavy huff.

Your day had been hell personified, to put it lightly.

A slew of unfortunate events had been what made up your day, bad luck from the moment you’d opened your eyes that morning - late, might I add.

All of your bad luck had culminated into what had probably been the worst day of your life, and to top it all off, you’d been forced to walk home in the rain. Twenty minutes of trudging down a bunch of empty streets saw your already terrible mood plummet, becoming ten times worse.

You’d been looking forward to the day’s end - all you wanted was to get home, for some peace and quiet and whatever leftovers you could find shoved in the back of the fridge.

That’s why, right now, you feel yourself itching with barely concealed irritation.

There, sat far too comfortably on the sofa, was your brother.

Step brother.

As if you’d ever call that waste of space your brother.

Worse still was the fact that he had two of his creep-fest friends with him.

That wasn’t what annoyed you, although you hated that they had decided to spend their time here instead of elsewhere.

No, what annoyed you most was-

“You couldn’t have picked me up? I had to walk in the rain. Twenty minutes Touya!”

He glances over at you, barely registering your words, his attention more focused on the game he’s playing with one of his friends - the blue haired one who has a habit of seemingly undressing you with his eyes everytime you see him.

You shiver in slight disgust as he eyes you up.

“And? How’s that my problem?”

You groan in frustration, kicking off your shoes in the entryway and stomping up the stairs towards your room.

“Fucking stupid, waste of space, dumbass, idiot - I’ll shove that damn controller up your ass.”

You take a deep breath, calming yourself.

It’s fine. This is fine.

After you’ve calmed yourself and changed out of your soaked clothing, you head downstairs again, pausing on the landing to stare out the window.

The rain pelts down in thick sheets, so heavy you can barely see beyond the window.

You preoccupy yourself with grabbing something to eat, shoving a few slices of leftover pizza onto a plate and into the microwave. While it heats up, a thought hits you and you head back to the living room.

“Hey Touya, when’re mom and dad getting home?”

He doesn’t answer. You wait a while, thinking he’s preoccupied.

Still nothing.

You ask again.

“Touya-”

“Fucking hell!” he yells, slamming his hand down on the coffee table.

The screen flashes as his character dies and Shigaraki snickers next to him.

Touya turns to glower at you.

“Stop bothering me.”

You roll your eyes.

“When’s dad getting home?”

He leans back, flicking at the controller as another round starts up. Shigaraki hands his controller over to Keigo, or Hawks as his friends mockingly call him.

“Eh? He’s not coming home. Him and your mom left for a business trip this morning - didn’t they tell you?”

You still.

A business trip?

You hum out a distracted thanks, heading back into the kitchen as the microwave blares. You grab the still-hot plate before heading back up to your room, crawling under the pile of blankets on your bed.

****

You put the thought of your parents and their last minute business trip out of your mind. Instead, you think about other things.

Like the fact that Touya refused to call your mom ‘mom’.

You didn’t blame him, per se. In fact, it was probably better that he didn’t.

It was just strange - Shouto, Fuyumi and Natsuo all called your mom theirs, so it was always jarring to hear Touya call her ‘your mom’, or even worse, by her first name. But it never seemed to bother her, so you never mentioned it.

It wasn’t as if he was even around often enough for it to be a big deal.

Mostly, he stayed with one of his friends, coming home only when no one else was around or if he needed a change of clothes.

It was an arrangement that suited everyone, though your father never seemed to appreciate his son’s flighty nature.

Whatever, it was none of your business.

All you knew was that whenever he was around, he made your life a living hell.

Before your mom had married his dad, you’d never had any siblings, so the only image you had of that type of relationship before was the stuff you’d seen on tv.

Shouto and Natsuo were nice enough, adopting you as their younger sister. You’d joined their family early enough that it felt as if they really were your siblings - you were barely four years old at the time, two years younger than Shouto.

Fuyumi had smothered you in the beginning, coddling and cooing at you like a pet.

Once the novelty had worn off, she’d become somewhat of a normal older sister, though still far more affectionate than what you expected.

Touya though - he avoided you like the plague, at least for the first few years after you’d been forced to live together. Sometime after your tenth birthday though, he’d turned into your own personal tormentor, teasing you like some stereotypical middle school bully, pulling at your hair, tripping you while you walked up the stairs, locking you in the basement if you went down alone to get something out of your dad’s office. Once or twice, he even managed to get you into a headlock, letting up only once you were seconds away from passing out.

It was horrible, and your siblings stepped in wherever they could.

He seemed to lose interest after a while, settling on slinging insults your way whenever he was near. Eventually even that seemed to lose its appeal, and, as of late, he’d gone back to ignoring your very existence, as he had when you’d first met.

It might have hurt your feelings, if you’d had any type of relationship with him. Now, you were just thankful he wasn’t trying to wrestle you to the ground whenever he saw you.

Your musings are cut short by a loud clap of thunder, and you flinch as the windows rattle.

Thunder never bothered you, but the storm seemed to be getting worse, and in the back of your mind, you registered that Shouto still wasn’t home.

You fidget with the blanket on your lap for a few more moments, trying and failing to distract yourself with your phone. You find yourself tapping Shouto’s contact, calling him before you can think twice.

Most of the time, you were concerned your siblings would find you clingy and annoying, as Touya had no problem reminding you, but you cared for them, and that meant you fretted over every little thing.

You pull at a loose thread on your sweater while the line rings, staring vacantly out the window as rain continues to streak down, blurring the view of the garden.

Will it flood? They might have mentioned something on the weather report this morning. I really should start paying more attention.

“Hello?”

You lurch forward. “Shouto? Hey, what’s up?”

He greets you, asking why you called.

“Well, you aren’t home yet and the weather’s looking pretty bad. I just- I was wondering if you’re coming home tonight?”

If you were talking to anyone else, you’d be worried about sounding pathetic - needy.

But it’s your brother. Your older brother who loves you and would never mock you for your concern.

He hums before answering. “Oh, yeah, I forgot to let you know, I’m staying over at Midoriya’s tonight. We have a project to work on and it’s just easier to stay here for the night.”

“Oh,” you say.

There’s a long pause, neither of you saying anything for a long moment.

“Okay, I just- um, wanted to check in.”

You take a deep breath, pulling yourself together.

“Well, have a good night. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He’s about to put the phone down while you scramble to keep him on the line.

“Wait!” you exclaim, “Mom and dad are away on a business trip”

“Yes, I know,” he says evenly.

There ‘s another pause.

“Natsuo should be home soon though - his classes ended about half an hour ago, so you won’t be alone,” he reassures you.

“Okay,” you say, sighing through your nose. “Okay, I- goodnight Sho, see you tomorrow.”

He bids you goodnight once more before ending the call.

You stay still, not moving from your spot for a long moment.

The truth…

The truth was that you weren’t exactly comfortable being alone in the house with Touya. Well, Touya and his friends.

Not that he’d ever done anything beyond bullying you, but - well, you hadn’t been alone with him for more than ten minutes since you were seven years old, and you weren’t eager to try your luck.

Bruises healed, but his scathing words took longer to soothe.

You shake your head.

No.

No, grow up - there’s no need to be so scared. It’s just for one night. And besides, I can just stay in my room and he’ll stay downstairs. Far away from me. And Natsuo will be here. I won’t be alone.

This is fine.

It’s fine.

****

After taking your dishes to the kitchen, you make your way back upstairs and head to the bathroom you and Shouto share, locking the door before stripping and jumping into the shower.

The hot water helps work the knots out of your neck, and you sigh heavily as you stand under the jets of water.

After scrubbing your hair and body, you leave the shower and brush your teeth. Enveloping yourself in a massive towel, you unlock the door and pad over to your bedroom.

A hot shower had unsurprisingly done wonders for your mood, and you felt much better now. Although, a part of you wished you’d properly relaxed and taken a bath instead - you were sure your muscle aches would be a thing of the past if you had.

You stop short in the middle of the hall.

The door is ajar. Your door.

You’d shut it.

Before you went to the bathroom, before you’d gone downstairs to the kitchen, you had shut your door.

Hands shaking, you reach for the handle and push it open.

Nothing.

It’s empty.

You sigh through your nose, closing the door behind you and heading over to your closet.

After changing into your pyjamas - sleep shorts that could just as easily pass as underwear for how short they were, and a ridiculously oversized shirt, stolen from either your father or Natsuo - you head over to the hamper in the corner of your room, dropping your towel into it and-

You let out a strangled sound, and it dies in the back of your throat as you freeze with your hand still outstretched.

Laundry was a chore you kept up to date with at all times, preferring to keep your clothing separate from the rest of your family.

You tended to wash your underwear in a separate load too, so it often took longer to get to.

That being said, you were supposed to do a load today, and there, on top of the full hamper, was a pair of panties.

Your favourite pair.

The lacy white undergarment lay crumpled up, discarded in a hurry. And it was covered in something thick - both creamy and white.

You feel yourself gag.

Anger- No, rage blinds you as you move to the door.

****

You storm downstairs, unthinking as you march into the livingroom and stand with crossed arms in front of the TV, ignoring the indignant yells that follow as both Tomura and Keigo die in the game.

“You’re disgusting.” You spit out, your words venomous and your tone scathing as you keep a tight grip on your soiled underwear.

Touya regards you with a bored, uninterested look, pausing for the briefest moment to eye the panties crumpled in your hand. The two other men take the unprompted disruption as their chance to take a break, Tomura standing up and heading towards the bathroom.

“Hm? Did someone upset the poor sensitive baby?” He asks in a mocking tone, rolling his eyes as he holds out a hand for the controller.

“You and your disgusting degenerate friends are the ones who upset me. Stay out of my room, and keep your goddamn dicks in your pants.” You snap scornfully, glaring down at him.

He pauses, his eyes narrowing as he sits straight and leans forward, his voice dropping an octave as he stares you down intently.

“What?”

You scoff and roll your eyes. “Don’t ‘what’ me, you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Tomura returns from his trip to the bathroom, flopping down on the couch with a grunt as he restarts the game, craning his neck to peer around you at the TV.

“No. I don’t. What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the literal cumstain one of you left on my underwear. Just because none of you have ever felt the touch of a woman doesn’t mean I appreciate you using my underwear to get your rocks off.”

His eyes lighten in amusement at the words, and the smug smirk he wears as he glances at his friends makes your blood boil.

“The kitchen, huh Shiggs? You dirty freak.”

Somehow, you don’t think the words are meant as an insult. The three laugh, ignoring you completely. Keigo even claps the blue haired reprobate on the shoulder in an almost congratulatory gesture.

Rage roars in your ears, and any sense of civility evaporates as you glare at them.

“I’m telling my mom.”

The words, however childish they may be, slip out before you can stop them. It’s all you can think to say at that moment.

Touya pauses, wrinkling his nose in an expression similar to disgust as he scoffs.

“Your mother? Ha, fuck off, I don’t care what she thinks. She’s not my mother. She’s nothing. She’s a brainless bimbo whose only purpose is to spread her legs for my asshat father.”

The words sting more than they should, considering you know they’re not true, and you bite back, uncaring of how you might hurt him as the words spill out of you, trembling hands clenched so tightly your nails dig into your palms, drawing blood.

“Yeah, well, at least she actually loves me. It’s more than you can say for your mother. And at least the rest of the family actually want me around. Fuck, at least Dad looks at me- he’s too disappointed in you to even look at your face.”

Tomura and Keigo’s reactions tell you everything you need to know. You just fucked up. Royally.

The only sound besides the constant battering of rain against the large windows is the sharp intake of breath from Touya’s two friends, and they sit deadstill, staring between the two of you as they wait with bated breath for Touya’s response.

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t look at you. He doesn’t even move.

The room seems frozen in time. No one moves, no words are spoken to break the silence.

You move. The smallest of steps, a miniscule shuffle to the side, towards the staircase.

It seems that’s all he needed.

Touya is on his feet in an instant, darting towards you, but you’re already making a mad dash for the stairs.

He tackles you down before you’ve even made it halfway, grabbing your ankle and jerking you closer midstep. Your forehead collides painfully with the edge of a step and you let out a pained, strangled whimper.

Much of what Touya tells his friends is lost to the ringing in your head. All you really register is him picking you up, feeling near weightless as he carries you past the living room, his friends’ leering gazes digging into your scalp as the two of you descend into the basement.

Your attempt at wriggling out of his arms is pathetic and half-hearted, and when you try to grab at the door frame to halt his movement, he cruelly twists your wrists, his expression unchanging at your cry of pain.

The last thing you see before the basement door closes is the enraptured gleam in Tomura’s eyes.

****

You weren’t ever really allowed in the basement, not that you had a reason to enter the restricted space.

Regardless, you never wanted to be down there. It was cold, and dark, and it sent a stab of unbridled panic down your spine. It only really contained your father’s old office space and a spare bedroom which had been used as a storage space for the better part of the last twelve years. All in all, it was an empty, forgotten space.

The handful of times you’d been down there never ended well.

And as usual, the problems had to do with Touya.

Always Touya.

He’d locked you down there for hours once, before it had become essentially abandoned.

You’d been five years old, still young and believing the best of him. He’d told you it had been a game of hide-and-seek.

Only, you’d spent the better part of eight hours screaming and sobbing, completely unheard in the soundless backroom of the basement. You’d passed out on the bed sometime after the six hour mark, sleeping soundly until you were found.

Your mother had been in a panic by the time she’d found you, letting out relieved sobs of her own as she scooped you up into her arms and cradled you against her chest soothingly.

Your parents had thought, completely unaware of the truth, that you’d strayed down there alone and managed to lock yourself in. Since that moment, you’d been banned from wandering into the basement by yourself.

Similar things had happened over the years, and unsurprisingly, Touya had been the root cause of many of the problems you’d dealt with.

Presently, he tosses you uncaringly on the bed, scoffing in bored amusement as you scramble over the bed and huddle against the headboard.

Despite your earlier brashness in confronting him, you were terrified. The reality of the situation had set in, and you felt your stomach roil as Touya stared you down with heavy lidded eyes, his gaze contemplative as he scans your half-bare body.

You’d seen that look before, and it made your skin crawl. It terrified you.

It was how Tomura looked at you when he brazenly palmed the bulge in his pants.

How stupid of you, marching downstairs and confronting three grown men, as if you had any chance of winning an argument. You wished you’d had the forethought to at least put on a proper pair of pants.

You swallow thickly, clenching your trembling hands into tight fists as you straighten your spine, attempting to appear calm and unaffected.

“Okay Touya, you’ve made your point. You can stop now, I-I won’t tell anyone.”

It’s an effort to swallow your pride, but you manage the words through gritted teeth, bowing your head as you continue.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry for being, uh- For being mean.”

Touya rolls his eyes as he leans forward and grips your ankle tightly, his palm calloused and warm, pulling you closer in one quick jerk, your ass teetering on the edge of the bed. “Imoto…” he trails off, his tone far too sultry for the situation, caressing the inner side of your ankle with his thumb, stroking the soft skin as he tilts his head, deep in thought.

His grip tightens again, to an almost painful extent, and you suppress a cry as the delicate bones of your ankle groan under the pressure. His voice is cold and condescending as he speaks.

“You’re so stupid.”

You lean further back as he hovers over you, surveying you with flat, emotionless eyes.

“I don’t care that you were mean. Just like I don’t care if you tell anyone. I don’t care if they believe you either. You know why? Because no one will do anything,” he whispers, toying with the hem of your shirt as he regards you with cool indifference.

“I could do anything I wanted, and no one would say a thing. In fact, I will do what I want… Do you know what I want?”

You shake your head, hesitant and silent in your state of panic.

“Aw, imoto, you know you shouldn’t lie to your big brother,” he murmurs patronisingly, gripping the hem of your shirt as he slowly lifts it up, leaving it to rest just above your bare breasts.

His pupils are blown wide as his hand trails down your waist, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“Y’know, you’re pretty grown now, aren't ya? I wonder… Have you let anyone touch you yet?”

He hums to himself, not pressing you for an answer as he continues in a stupor, seemingly unaware of your silent horror. You’re completely frozen, too shocked to move, to speak, to do anything. You can’t even bring yourself to lower your shirt as you listen in abject horror as he continues on.

“I really hope you haven’t. Not that it really matters… Touya-nii will take real good care of you, don’t you worry… It’s about time I treat that bad attitude of yours too.”

You’re frozen in disbelief and fear, completely paralysed as he shoves a leg between yours, keeping them open as he shifts his grip from your ankle to your hips.

The stupor is short-lived, and your struggles renew twofold as he paws at your clothed cunt. There’s a satisfying thwack sound as your foot connects with his jaw, though the sense of victory quickly fizzes out within the long bout of dead silence. Touya tilts his head to the side staring at the wall blankly, and after a few long moments, he moves, slowly facing forward again, rubbing his jaw, seemingly completely ignoring you as he works his jaw.

He huffs, the sound reminiscent of an amused scoff as he looks down at you with rage simmering in his eyes.

“Like I said: You’re so fucking stupid.”

You don’t see the slap coming. All you register is the blurred sight of his arm flying towards you, his numerous rings glinting in the lowlight of the room, and the sudden burn of his backhand striking you across the face. A short, surprised huff is all you can manage, the sharp taste of blood and the stinging pain of rapidly developing welts on your cheek distracting you from reacting.

A trembling palm presses to your tender cheek, and you look up at him with shocked eyes.

“You… hit me.”

He lets out a sardonic laugh, rolling his eyes as he clicks his tongue and caresses your cheek, condescending in his tone.

“Aw, my sweet little sister. You sound so surprised. If I’d known you were such a baby, maybe I’d have taken my rings off for you. Here-”

He pauses, pulling away as he discards his rings haphazardly, turning to frame your face with his calloused palms. His eyes soften slightly as he looks down at you, caressing your tender, reddened cheek for a moment, his fingers lovingly stroking the warm flesh before digging into the fat of your cheeks and his gaze hardens.

The next slap feels worse than the previous, if that’s even possible.

You’re still reeling from the rough strikes, jolting out of your daze as you feel Touya’s palms ghost over the inside of your thighs.

His gaze is focused and razor sharp as he soaks in the sight of your scantily clad core, his palms encasing the tender, soft flesh of your thighs.

Squirming uncomfortably does nothing as he pins your hips down, shifting to kneel on the floor before the bed, yanking you closer and throwing your legs over his shoulders.

Dread drops into your stomach like a stone, making your head spin. As badly as you try to keep them at bay, tears bubble up, dripping down your temples as you sniffle, staring up at the ceiling as you beg.

“Stop– Stop!” You wail panickedly, thrashing beneath him, making no attempts to disguise your sobs. “Stop or I’ll tell Dad!”

He lifts his head from where it was descending between your legs, grinning wickedly at the words.

“Dad? Aw, you sweet, innocent thing. He’d do the exact same thing if he could. Where do you think I get it from, huh?” he says mockingly, condescending as he slaps your cheek lightly before moving back to his previous position, his mouth dangerously close to your centre despite your tightly clenched thighs.

“Come on now, open up for me. It’ll only hurt more if I have to make you.”

A pleading whine is all you can manage as you shake your head, keeping your legs pressed together.

His eyes turn cold at that, all playfulness and teasing leaving him in an instant. He cruelly digs his fingers into the soft flesh of your thighs and huffs in annoyance at your yelp of pain, leaning forward as you jerk your legs apart from the pressure.

A moment later, his warm mouth envelopes your clothed sex.

Your hips jolt, and you gasp in surprise, eyes wide and rounded as you stare down at his bowed head between your legs.

This… This was wrong. So wrong.

Even if you didn’t like him, even if you were loathed to admit it- He was your brother.

Your brother.

“Touya… Stop, please. Please,” you beg quietly, your voice quivering with effort as you reach down to his head, intent on pushing his face away.

You don’t get very far.

His grip is like a vice on your wrist, and he doesn’t look up and he squeezes down painfully, tutting in mock disappointment.

“Did your mother never teach you it’s bad manners to interrupt someone’s meal?” he murmurs, not looking up at you as he massages your hips, hooking his fingers over the hem of your sleep shorts.

It’s torturous. A sick, twisted punishment, the way his focus is wholly dedicated to undressing you.

Shame floods your chest, burning up your neck and over your ears.

He pulls your shorts down, inch by inch until you’re exposed to him, shivering in the cold, stagnant air of the basement. He looks up at you then, regarding you with cool indifference as he kneads the fat of your thighs.

“Itadakimasu,” he purrs softly before descending on you.

A breathy, strangled garble is all you can manage as he licks a smooth, confident stripe up your slit, twirling his tongue lightly around the bud of your clit before returning to your cunt.

His tongue is teasing, punishing as he laps at your core, slurping loudly as if to humiliate you. It works, tears of shame burning your eyes as he pulls away after a few minutes to stare up at you with an appraising eye.

“Someone’s enjoying this, hm? Look at how worked up I’ve got ya…” he hums softly, shifting his hand to rub tight circles on your clit as he stares you down.

“You’re a disgusting whore, getting off on this. Like mother, like daughter, huh?”

The words snap something inside of you, and you decide in that moment, you want to hurt him- kill him. Gouge his eyes out and shove them down his throat.

“I hate you.”

You glower and slap him across the face with as much force as you can muster, not giving him a moment to react as you kick his shoulder, sending him careening back before you jump off the bed, yanking your shirt down in the process.

Though you try to sprint for the door, your relief is short lived.

At least the floor is carpeted here, you think gratefully, sparing your head the aching reverberation as your skull bounces off the ground for the second time that evening.

He wrestles you onto your back, keeping you pinned with frightening ease.

You realise in that moment, he’d been allowing you to put up a fight. Though he seemed somewhat lanky at first glance, his torso and arms were corded with muscles. Muscles he used to keep you restrained beneath him as he ripped off your shirt, tearing through it like paper and leaving you stark naked beneath him. Your struggles had been little more than a game to him, one which he’d played along with all evening.

Screams and pleas fall on deaf ears as he snarls down at you, hatred simmering in his eyes. A thin trail of blood drips down from his cheekbone and onto your bare chest, the scratch on his face red and angry from where you’d struck him.

“I was going to be nice, get you all prepped and ready, maybe even give you an orgasm or two. But you’re such an ungrateful fucking whore,” he spits, wrapping his hand around your throat to quieten your wails.

When you continue struggling, thrashing beneath him with flailing limbs, he lifts you up slightly by your throat before slamming you down, knocking the last of your breath from your lungs.

“Now, here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to punish you for that little stunt just now, and then I’ll let my friends upstairs have their way with you too. It’s the least you could do after you were so rude to them, hm?”

You have no words left. No hateful insults, no pleas, no threats, nothing.

All you can do is cry soundlessly as he unbuckles his belt, the metal clinking as he yanks it off and shoves his pants down his thighs, lining himself up with your mostly unprepped entrance.

He slaps your cheek lightly, shaking your head as you try to dissociate from reality.

“Nuh uh, none of that now. I want you here. Pay attention,” he hisses, gripping your jaw tightly before shifting his palm back down to your neck, his grip bruising and painful.

A pained squeak is all the noise you can manage, clawing at his hand on your throat as his cock shoves into your core.

It’s agonising, painful, feeling him force his way into you, violating you.

His hips jerk forward in short spurts, fighting against the resistance of your unprepared core with every stroke, his Jacob’s ladder rubbing your walls raw with each vicious stoke. Tears dampen your temples, burning your eyes, and you wait for the pain to subside as he pushes in to the hilt and stops with a puff, his breathing evening out after a long moment.

The two of you lay there in silence, and you suck in a shuddering, wheezing breath as he released the column of your throat. His hand travels down your bare body, coming to rest on your pubic bone as he uses his thumb to massage tight circles into your clit.

His ministrations leave your legs quaking, and your orgasm overtakes you without warning, slamming into you like a tidal wave as you whine and arch your back off the ground, begging him in broken babbles to stop.

Your pleas fall on deaf ears, and he seems to double down, grinning cruelly as he continues to flick your swollen clit.

“Come on now, you can give me one more,” he coaxes teasingly.

And you do. You cum again, your walls fluttering around his cock as your eyes roll back in your head.

His fingers stop their tortuous movements while you pant, but you’re not granted a reprieve as he grips your hips, lifting them slightly to position the back of your ass on the top of his thighs. He jerks his hips forward, snickering as you gasp and whine before drawing his hips back and slamming forward.

The movement makes your breasts bounce, and he immediately sets an arduous pace.

You dig your fingertips into the carpet beneath you, clinging onto it for dear life as he fucks his way deeper into you, pressing your thighs to your chest.

The noises you let out are disgraceful, moans and whines that would put a pornstar to shame, but your mind feels blank, empty of all thoughts besides the feeling of his cock filling you up, the mind numbing massage of his piercing against your gummy walls.

Touya isn’t much better off. His bottom lip is caught between his teeth and his brow is furrowed, twitching as he grunts and moans each time he bottoms out inside you, feeling your walls suck him in deeper with each stroke. You’re both covered in a light sheen of sweat, panting heavily and trembling with the exertion, and your cheeks still shine with tears.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs. “My sweet little sister, nothing but a dumb little cumslut. What would everyone say if they could see you now, huh?”

His words are hateful and meant to hurt you, but you can’t think, can’t respond in anything but breathless moans as he pulls you closer and picks up the pace.

“Say thank you. Say ‘thank you big brother for making me cum’. Say it.”

He’s as demanding as ever, tweaking your nipples in punishment when you make no attempt to respond, insead laying dumb and drool covered beneath him.

“Say it,” he orders you.

“T-Thank you- fuck- thank you Touya.”

He scoffs, slapping your tits with an open palm.

“Thank you Touya-nii,” he corrects you, squishing your cheeks together with one palm as he shakes your head back and forth.

“Thank you Touya-nii,” you whine, writhing beneath him.

He rewards you by leaning forward and spitting into your squished open mouth, clamping his palm over your mouth as you gag and try to spit it out.

“Ah ah, swallow.”

You do.

He pats your cheek in a gesture that seems almost loving, shifting his fingers down to your clit once more.

“You wanna cum again? Wanna cum on your big brother’s cock?”

It’s a rhetorical question, he’s already forcing you over the edge for the third time that evening, leaving you a twitching, overstimulated mess beneath him.

"It was me, by the way. I used your underwear- I came to tell you Natsuo wouldn't be home tonight, but instead all I find is some lacy white shit."

He chuckles at your horrified expression, groaning at the feeling of your fluttering walls.

“-’m gonna fill you up,” he grunts to himself, gripping your thighs, digging his nails into the tender flesh as he uses your body.

His words fill you with cold dread, but you don’t have time to interject before he stills with a throaty groan, slumping over you as his cock twitches inside you and warmth floods your belly.

“F-Fuck, so good-” he mumbles into your chest as he presses kisses against your tits, still grinding into you as your walls twitch pathetically around him.

He huffs a spiteful laugh at the whine you let out as he pulls out of you, his cum dribbling out of your spent cunt. He lightly slaps your cunt, smirking as your legs twitch, before he sits back on his haunches and tucks his now limp dick back in his pants.

“Up. Get on the bed.”

Your mind, somewhat coherent once more, is in a frenzy.

What the fuck had you just done.

This was wrong. So, so wrong.

What would your parents say? What would your siblings say?

Oh God, if they saw this, saw you…

You feel sick, your stomach roiling as you sit up, shoulders shaking with cold realisation.

Another harsh slap to the face pulls you out of your panicked reverie.

Touya looms above you with cold eyes and an unimpressed expression.

“Get on the fucking bed. Right now. We’re not done here.”

You know by now that fighting is useless. He was so much bigger and stronger than you, so easily able to subdue you. Not to mention the other two men upstairs-

No. Please no.

But your suspicions are confirmed as Touya walks to the door and leaves the room, coming back a moment later with his two friends in tow and a cruel smirk on his face, tutting mockingly at the anguish on your face.

“I did warn you. You have to apologise for your bad manners. Come on sweetie, be a good girl for them, yeah?”

None of them wait for a response, both Keigo and Tomura pulling their aching, leaking cocks from their pants as they hover above you, leering down like a pack of hyenas.

Touya doesn’t slap you when you try to dissociate this time, content to let his friends use you while he lounges in the armchair in the corner of the room, watching with a disinterested expression. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he seemed bored.

Keigo seems to have some sick fascination with your mouth, shoving his cock down your throat without warning or preparation and letting out a throaty moan as your throat convulses around him.

His palm remains locked around your neck, watching with rapt attention as your throat works awkwardly around the thick intrusion.

You’re almost thankful for the distraction of his cock, for the way Touya had stretched you out minutes prior, when you see the length bobbing between Tomura’s legs.

How it was possible for someone to be that big, you didn’t want to know.

Your eyes remain transfixed in muted panic on the monstrous member as Tomura makes his way around the bed, propping you up on your knees before he spits on your cunt.

The feeling of a fat glob of spit hitting your entrance and sliding down the length of your slit makes you cringe, shivering in disgust at his actions. You’re not given a moment's warning before you feel the fat head of his cock rubbing against your entrance, trying to pry its way into your tight heat.

A panicked, muffled garble escapes you as you jerk forward, only serving to fit more of Keigo’s length down your throat in your attempt of escape.

Tomura lets out a hiss of displeasure, digging his fingertips into the fat of your hips as he jerks you back towards him, forcing the head of his cock into your pussy.

It hurts, you want to say. It won’t fit, please.

But you can’t. All you can do is choke down gags and sobs as Tomura rips through you. Everytime you think he’s bottomed out, he just keeps going. He keeps going until it feels like he’s pushed through your cervix, until he sits snugly in your stomach.

He doesn’t give you a chance to catch your breath, doesn’t grant you the smallest of breaks like Touya did. Instead, he immediately sets a harsh, forceful pace, and each stroke feels like a punch to the gut.

From his spot in the corner of the room, Touya lets out a low whistle, leaning forward with his forearms resting on his knees.

“Look at ya. You’re loving this, aren’t ya? Hm, if I’d have known being dicked down was all you needed to shut up, I’d have done it ages ago.”

His words flow in one ear and out the other, your sole focus on not choking around Keigo’s length as he bottoms out and keeps you pinned in place with his palm planted on the back of your head.

As much as you try to ignore it, his throaty, vocal moans make your core clench around Tomura who scoffs. “You were right, she really is a whore. I can feel her sucking me in.” Touya only hums in response, watching now with an almost enthralled expression as his two friends plough into you simultaneously. “You probably love this, hah? Dumb little slut.”

The swat he places on your ass leaves a stinging red welt on the smooth flesh.

You’re too lost in the unwanted pleasure to even think about responding. You let your mind wander elsewhere, losing yourself in the toe curling sensation of Tomura’s dick rubbing up against your walls, filling you completely.

Maybe if you pretend it’s someone else, anyone else-

You cum so hard you black out for a moment, losing any and all sensation in your hands and feet as your limbs fill with a strange fuzzy feeling. Your orgasm was so sudden, so unexpected and all-consuming that you struggle to keep yourself conscious and up on all fours, arms and legs trembling as Tomura whines through his teeth.

Keigo grips your hair at the roots, bringing your attention back to his cock as he moans, tilting his head back and flooding your throat with his cum without warning.

He tuts, pulling out of your mouth with a sigh and tapping your chin with his fingers.

“Be a big girl and swallow now, will ya?”

You wince, grimacing as you swallow down his thick, salty seed.

His smirk is devious as he pats your cheek, zipping up his pants and walking over to Touya. He leans down and whispers something in his ear, though their conversation is lost to you as Tomura flattens your chest against the mattress and picks up his pace.

You can’t stop your tongue from lolling out your mouth as he rails into you, your drool forming a puddle beneath you, soaking into the cream duvet. All you can manage is breathless, whiny moans - the only sound in the room besides his own grunts, the slick pattering of your cunt, and the banging of the headboard against the wall.

The thick duvet lays twisted beneath your fingers, and you cling to it desperately as Tomura pants above you like a dog in heat, using your cunt like some glorified fleshlight.

By the time Tomura finishes inside you, you’ve climaxed twice more. He collapses on your back, breathless as he licks a stripe up the ridges of your sweaty spine.

You’re too exhausted to even whine or wrinkle your nose in disgust. It’s all you can do to fight from passing out, puffing from the exertion.

Goosebumps cover you as the sweat cools on your skin, leaving you shivering and sticky.

Touya approaches the bed, murmuring something to Tomura, who grumbles and gets off of you with a grunt before ambling out of the room.

Once only the two of you are left in the thin silence, Touya speaks. His voice is little more than a low murmur as he crouches down next to you, softly brushing the sweaty strands of hair off your face.

“You look so pretty like this. All vulnerable and used… I hope you know how this changes things. You’re mine now. All mine.”

The sentiment makes your stomach curl. If he sees the cold dread on your exhausted face, he doesn’t comment on it, instead pressing a soft, small kiss to your temple.

“Come on, I’ll carry you to your room.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, lifting you off the bed with ease before leaving the basement and making his way through the house, to your room. The sight of the soft, baby pink walls feel surreal after the past few hours. You feel as if you’re violating the clean, pure space of your bedroom, soiling the sheets as Touya sets you down on your bed.

He bustles around your room, grabbing another sleep shirt and tossing it your way before coming to settle down beside you on your bed. You make no move to put on the shirt.

You don’t do much of anything but stare blankly at the wall opposite your bed.

Touya hums softly, stroking your hair.

“Ya not gonna say anything?”

There’s a pause.

“Huh. Okay then… I think you’ll move in with me. Well, Tomura and me, that is. It’s a nice place, you’ll like it.”

Again, a pause. He seems to be waiting for a reaction, a change in facial expression, something.

…

Nothing.

He sighs heavily.

“Come on, don’t be like that. It’s not as if you didn’t enjoy it. You’re lucky it was storming outside and no one’s home. I’m sure the entire neighbourhood would’ve heard you moaning like a whore.”

It’s a jibe, one meant to get a rise out of you.

Nothing.

“...whatever. You’ll come around sooner or later, hah?” he hums, ruffling your hair.

He stands and stretches, seeming to contemplate something for a moment before he sighs again, covering you with a blanket and leaving your room without another word.

Only once the door clicks shut, do you allow yourself to cry, your small sniffles muffled by your pillow.

Despite your fear, your strained emotions, the ache between your thighs and in your jaw…

You fall asleep, curled up in a tight ball beneath a pile of blankets.

Unconsciousness welcomes you with open arms, and you pray that you stay asleep indefinitely, not wanting to wake up and deal with what had happened.

You dream of shadowy figures, larger and faster than you, with glinting silver jewellery and cruel smirks, all looming over you.

And when you wake up hours later, you awake all your belongings packed up in cardboard boxes, and to Touya next to you in bed, his fingers pumping in and out of your core, his other palm massaging your breast.

He nips at your ear, smirking against your neck. "Morning imoto..."

303 notes · View notes

ghostbeam · 1 year

Text

swore i could feel you through the walls | Dabi/Touya Todoroki

Dabi knows that he can’t leave you now. You belong to him, and he belongs to you, and the stars knew before either of you did. And Dabi can’t argue with fate, or destiny, or pure dumb luck, not that he wants to. He pulls your comforter up over his body. He’ll be here when you come home to him. In a place made for staying, Dabi thinks he will.

Notes: hiiiiii so this is an idea that has been bouncing around my head for like. Literal years ajsjsjsjs It’s always kind of been more of a horror idea and then I fanficified it and now it’s this! This was kind of a process and I rewrote and replanned and went over this over and over again but I think it is at a place that I am mildly happy with. It’s a completely ridiculous idea and I’m honestly a little insecure about it but fuck it!! Thanks for reading hope u enjoy<3 (title from Chinese satellite by Phoebe bridgers) listen to the playlist here!

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, f!reader, explicit content, yandere!dabi, stalking, Dabi hides in readers house without her knowledge, some paranoia, psychological abuse, slight yandere!reader, mentions of somnophillia but no actual instances of it, violence, non-consensual voyeurism (Dabi watches reader masturbate), unprotected sex, oral f!receiving, marking, biting (shoulder, neck), painplay, one mention of carving names into skin with no instance of it, mentions of blood (reader bites dabi’s neck and draws blood), use of good girl, mutual obsession

Words: 9.3k

He can’t breathe.

Dabi runs from the low-ranked hero, surprisingly fast on his tail as the distance between the two becomes smaller and smaller. With his lungs burning, his skin irritated from quirk use, and the lack of help from his peers, Dabi realizes that he needs to find a way to lose the ice quirk user that is quickly gaining on him.

Turning down a narrow alleyway, he’s disappointed to find that it’s a dead end. He pauses to catch his breath, keeping himself tucked tightly against the shadowy wall. Dabi surveys his surroundings, finding nothing but garbage before he looks up. He’s against an apartment building, he realizes, looking at the lights in the windows above him.

All windows are lit except one.

Dabi doesn’t have the time to wonder about the owner, shaking his head and forcing himself up the fire escape, preparing himself to use his quirk if it comes down to it. He breaks the lock on the darkened window and shuffles inside. He falls over a stack of books that sits underneath the window, freezing on the floor as he listens for any movement throughout the walls. When he hears nothing, he stands from the floor and closes the window, creeping down the hall in search of the other rooms. There’s one bathroom and a bedroom with no one inside, and relief rushes over Dabi as he feels his shoulders relax.

Assuming you won’t be home for a while, Dabi makes his way back to the main room, turns the light on, and heads for the kitchen. He looks through your fridge for something to eat, pulling out a Tupperware of leftovers that he heats in the microwave. As he waits for the seconds to pass, he looks around the apartment.

It sets in, then, how lived in the place is, shelves full of books, records and DVDs, art and photos against the walls, leaving almost no space for the blankness underneath. The kitchen is pink, he realizes, looking around and eyeing the various knickknacks shaped like mushrooms or kittens, unique magnets hang a mess of papers on the fridge beside post-it notes of reminders.

He wants to hate it. It’s a complete mess, chaotic even, but he can’t bring himself to. He’s intrigued now. He ignores the beeping of the microwave and steps away from the kitchen, observing the various pictures on the walls. It’s not difficult to find the owner of the apartment, the face showing up in a multitude of snapshots. Your face.

As he looks at the walls, he finds himself stuck on you, the curve of your jaw, your lips, your eyes. You make his heart beat in his chest, excitement bubbling at the realization that he is standing in your home, in your space, right in the middle of your entire life.

You’re beautiful. He feels his stomach drop.

The more he explores, the more he seems to like you. The Sargent print on your wall, the Rilke in your bookshelf, the numerous albums in your collection that he knows nothing about. He flips through the pages of your books, smiling at your annotations, the ink between the pages, and the tiny star you draw next to your favorite passages. He runs his fingers across the words over and over again, committing them to memory, the need to love the things you love burning in his chest.

It’s not enough, he realizes, looking through just this room. He stalks down the hallway and turns the light to your bedroom on. And oh, how content he feels in here, a room clearly much more personal than the one out there. It’s a bit of a mess, with clothes on the floor and the bed like you’d changed out of many different outfits before leaving. The full-length mirror against your wall is peppered with postcards and pictures from magazines and those same post-it notes: call mom, pay the phone bill, need more cotton pads. So, you’re forgetful. Dabi smiles at the knowledge.

There are string lights of stars hanging on your ceiling and lamps in the shape of flowers on your bedside table. Your bed is unmade and you have sheets with scatters of constellations on them. Your affinity for stars makes him smile, one more thing he’s found in common with you.

It shocks him how interested he is in you, in all of the things that make up your little life. But the more he explores, the more he’s sure you’re made for him.

He looks through your closet, through your dresser, stuck rummaging through your underwear drawer. Every set of lingerie you have is some variation of blue, and Dabi can’t help but feel as though it’s for him. It’s all for him, your things, you. Fate, or the universe, or luck itself is on his side. He pockets a pair of panties that closely resembles his eyes before turning to your desk. More post-it notes are stuck to the surface, and there’s a notebook that he reaches for before your wall catches his eye. There are more photos, haphazardly taped up and not at all as organized as your living room, but he can tell they’re important to you: family photos, people he recognizes from films, rock singers, and—him.

Dabi is on your wall.

The photo is one that went viral a couple of months back when he got into an altercation with one of the top ten heroes. He remembers the fight well because of how large his flames grew, and the damage that he did to the surrounding area, to the people, to the hero he was up against. He’s stood with his arms out in front of him, neon flames emanating from his palms as the moment in battle is frozen in time forever on your wall. You printed it out on photo paper and everything. He plucks it from its spot and turns it over. Your handwriting with his name and a heart is scrawled on the blank space. He runs a thumb over the heart, feeling his face warm up.

This isn't a mistake. You know who he is, and you’re a fan, not just of the photo itself, but of him. He wonders if you’re one of those weirdos he’s seen online with accounts dedicated to him, one of the anonymous boxes that engage in discussions about his quirk and identity, losers grasping at any detail they can that might bring them closer to the truth, or just to him in general.

But the more he thinks about it, the more excited he gets, thinking about you saving blurry pictures of his fights to your phone, watching youtube videos of him with shitty quality, and tweeting about him with stupid little emojis. He wonders if you dream of him, if you think of him while touching yourself, or if you fantasize about silly things like being a villain’s girlfriend. He likes thinking of you like this, just as obsessed with him as he’s becoming with you.

Dabi doesn’t care what it’s called: divine intervention, cosmic love, soulmates. All are true; none capture how this feels.

Your laptop is password protected and his name doesn’t work when he tries, so he moves on from your bedroom. Entering your bathroom, he looks through your medicine cabinet, analyzing your meds and products as he searches for every bit of information he can. He looks at the lipstick that sits on the counter and debates putting it on in the form of an indirect kiss but decides to pocket it instead. He sprays each and every one of your perfumes, deciding which is his favorite, and throwing the one he dislikes out the window he came through, watching it shatter against the cement.

He pulls back the shower curtain and begins to strip, turning the water on and letting the heat hit his worn-out body. He hasn’t felt water pressure this good in years. He uses your shampoo, your conditioner, your rose-scented soap, even though it’s sure to irritate his scars. He uses everything he can to be close to you, to smell like you, to have any piece of you even though you’re not here.

When he’s done, he lays in your bed, against the sheets that you occupy every night except tonight, and stares up at the string lights above him. He picks up the stuffed bear with angel wings that sits against one of your pillows, caressing the ears between two fingers. He thinks about you, about the things he doesn’t know, details you don’t have plastered to your walls or hidden between pages of poetry books. He wants to know what makes you laugh, what makes you cry, how you’d look undone beneath him.

He can finally breathe.

…

The keys to your apartment chime against your door as you move to unlock it, hoards of keychains rattling against each other as you push the heavy door open. It slams shut behind you and you toss your keys onto the kitchen counter, hauling your suitcase behind you. The familiar pang of loneliness hits you immediately as you look out over your crowded apartment.

“I’m home.” You mutter softly, running your fingers over the plush fabric of your couch.

No matter how much you try to distract yourself with books and posters and comfortable shag carpets, you still feel the same each time you come home to emptiness.

You roll your suitcase to your bedroom, deciding that unpacking is a job for the you of the future while the you of the present deserves to sink into the couch and watch tv. Your unmade bed catches your eye and you wonder if you’d forgotten to tidy up before you left to visit your mother. You don’t dwell on it, dragging your tired body to your couch and turning on your television. You flip through multiple channels before a name on the news catches your attention: Dabi.

Your obsession with the cremation villain seemingly happened overnight. The League of Villains had intrigued you due to their mission to dismantle hero society, a cause that resonated with you as a quirkless citizen. When Dabi joined the group, you were immediately interested in the aloof and mysterious fire quirk-user. You never stood a chance. You spent hours on message boards, gathering any and all information on the group as you could in order to feel closer to him. Your adoration never made much sense to those you talked to online with the lack of information available about the man. But as the League grew in popularity, details about Dabi became far more accessible to the general public. His true identity remained a mystery but two things you were certain of: his quirk came with a drawback in the form of his own body and fire got him excited.

And now, the news anchor on your television was relaying the news that he had been seen around your neighborhood and still hadn’t been found. You feel your heart beat rapidly in your chest, excitement bubbling up as you think about the prospect of catching a glimpse of him in real life. Realistically, you know there’s no way that Dabi stuck around here, understanding the risks of staying in one place for too long as a wanted criminal, but the thought makes your stomach flip. You lean back against your couch, clutching the remote in one hand and letting out an excited giggle. For a moment, you’re grateful for the emptiness of your apartment, your embarrassing display of excitement only witnessed by you and you alone.

You spend a few hours on LOV fan accounts and forums, hoping to find out any more details about the news, but most people online say it’s not worth looking into. Much like you thought, Dabi was most likely far away from your place by now.

Finding nothing, you stand up from your couch, stretching your arms above your head as you make your way to your bathroom. You turn on the shower and allow it to heat up as you find something to sleep in. When you return, you strip and step into the shower. Your mind wanders toward thoughts of Dabi as you stand underneath the water. You’re disappointed. The one weekend you leave town, the love of your life visits your building. The endless push and pull is frustrating.

It’s something that’s happened to you time and time again, coming across the aftermath of an attack, or arriving somewhere that Dabi was rumored to have been seen. You keep missing him by mere seconds, and this is no different, though you aren’t exactly sure what you would do if you ever got a chance.

After finishing up, you step out of the shower, take a towel from the hook on the wall and dry yourself off. You change into your clothes and reach towards your medicine cabinet before pausing. Drawn in the steam on the mirror is a heart. You stare at it, examining it closely. Had you drawn on the mirror the last time you showered? When was the last time you cleaned the mirror? You’re pulled from your thoughts by the sound of a loud bang coming from your living room.

Without thinking, you rush towards the sound, spotting the door to your hallway closet slamming shut. You freeze where you stand at the end of the hallway, weighing your options before deciding you don’t have much time to think about it. Bolting to your kitchen, you pick up a large knife from its block, before carefully making your way back to your closet. With the knife in one hand, you turn the knob to the door, pulling it open in a hurry and holding the blade in front of you. You’re met with nothing but your own things, coats, and dresses that you never wear, a closet full of items left unused. Even when you push through the racks of clothes, you find nothing.

Relief washes over you at the knowledge that you are in fact here alone. You lower the knife, allowing yourself to breathe as you calm down. You stare down at the weapon in your hand, scoffing.

“What was I going to do with this?” You speak out loud. Even if somebody was in your home, could you really defend yourself? You’re quirkless, you aren’t trained in any sort of self-defense, and you’re not even sure you’d have the guts to actually stab someone. You shake your head, walking to your kitchen to put it back.

You retreat to your bedroom, pulling back the covers of your unmade bed, clutching your bear in one arm, and staring up at the ceiling.

Inside of your hallway closet, up against the wall, Dabi’s shoulders relax. He imagines you with your knife outside of the door, the scared expression on your face, one he could only see from in between your coat and the wall. Your eyebrows pinched up and your eyes wide, your bottom lip quivering ever so slightly. He takes pride in being the reason for that look. He pulls away from the wall, carefully sliding out of the closet and shutting the door behind him. He looks down the hallway, toward the door that you’ve left ajar. He wants to sneak in, watch your chest rise and fall, caress your cheek, and feel you lean into his touch, but he knows you're more than likely awake, still shaken up from his antics.

He’ll be back tomorrow, anyway.

…

The encounters continue into the rest of the week. Doors creak open and things fall from shelves. You hear noises late into the night and find more hearts left on reflective surfaces, your mirrors, your television, your windows.

With no sign of another living thing inside of your home with you, the only explanation you have left to give yourself is something paranormal, even if you aren’t sure of it yourself.

And besides, you kind of like the idea of living with a ghost. This one seems to be in love with you.

On top of all of the hearts, your ghost has knocked off books of love poems from your bookshelves, blasted Linger by The Cranberries from your speakers, and flipped through television channels to land on one playing In the Mood for Love. And when you fall asleep at night, just as you can feel yourself crossing the boundary between sleep and awake, you swear you can feel your bed dip beside you.

You don’t hate it, and you aren’t scared, and sometimes it is comforting to know that you aren’t as alone as you always believed you would be.

Dabi watches you most days. He watches you nap on your couch and laugh at your cell phone. He watches you parade around your home in nothing but your underwear and a t-shirt. He watches you concentrate on the novels you like to read, where a crease forms between your eyebrows as your eyes fly across the page. He watches you talk to yourself about anything and everything, about work, about television shows you enjoy, about him.

He likes that you’re a complete mess in the morning, that you can barely keep yourself upright, let alone keep your eyes open while you brush your teeth. He likes that you spray the perfume he decided was his favorite all that time ago before you leave for the day. He likes that you sometimes switch between multiple different albums before settling on the one you like. He likes to watch you dance to them. He likes that he’s never heard of them before. He likes you.

You’re a natural result of loneliness, much like he is. But where you filled your void with material things, stuff, Dabi left his empty and allowed it to grow. He would have thought it was foolish, the idea of filling that hole in him with anything other than anger and hurt, thoughts of revenge. Had he not fallen for you, maybe he would have hated you. The two had always felt so similar.

You’re happy with him here, he notices, much happier than you had been that first night. You talk to him, your ghost. You ask him about the shows you watch, his opinion on your favorite albums, what shoes to wear to work. He’s a part of your life through knocks on the walls and highlighted lines in between the pages of your books and soft touches in the middle of the night.

Dabi holds it all close to his Molotov heart and hopes that the ruin is worth it.

…

You fall asleep almost immediately, exhausted from your busy day, one spent without your ghost. Dabi sneaks in late, caught up with league business for the past couple of days, and he misses you.

He stares at your sleeping form against the night sky that is your sheets. He feels himself relax at the sight of you, realizing just how much it affects him to be away from you for too long. He takes his boots off at your bedroom door and walks in long strides toward you. He cups your cheek in one hand, running his thumb along your cheekbone, smiling at how you subconsciously lean into his touch.

Dabi moves to the other side of your bed, sliding in beside you. He does nothing but stare at the back of your head for a few minutes, gathering the courage to reach out and touch. He wants to hold you. He wants to do more than just lay beside you and listen to you breathe.

He runs a hand up your arm, dragging his fingers against your skin. He wraps an arm around your midsection and pulls flush against his chest, feeling your body relax in his hold. He sneaks a hand up your sleep shirt and thumbs over the soft flesh of your stomach. Your hair smells like lavender shampoo, and it makes him nostalgic for that first night.

A sudden sinking feeling settles in his stomach as he breathes you in, the guilt of barging into your life and bothering you to the point of delusion makes Dabi feel ill. You’re important to him now in a much deeper way than you were at the beginning. He doesn’t want to hurt you, at least not like this.

“Dabi…” Your voice is soft, starry with sleep. He freezes against you. Your voice comes again, “Dabi.”

“It’s me, baby.” He whispers against your ear, unsure of just how awake you are.

“You’re so warm…Dabi…” You trail off, dragging the last syllable of his name. Your voice is so soft, breathy as you talk through sleep. He can feel his pants tighten at the sound from your lips. Fuck. He can’t stay here, not when you sound so sweet.

He could fuck you. He wants to. He’s not even sure you’d wake up. He’d pull pretty little moans from your throat, slotting himself between your thighs and sliding into you. You’d already be wet for him, and he’d watch your hands ball into little fists in your sleep. You’d chant his name like a prayer. He’d come deep inside of you and leave you to wake up the next morning with the evidence between your legs.

But he does not fuck you. He places a kiss to the side of your neck and pulls away from you despite the whine you let out as he detaches his body from yours. He leaves with every intention of never coming back. His ruin might be worth it, but yours isn’t.

…

The lack of paranormal activity in your home is alarming, which is something you never thought you’d ever think about. Your ghost has been gone for weeks, and you’re afraid that you may have made it all up in your head.

This possibility is one you dread, mainly because it has everything to do with your own sanity. If you had been imagining each event, drawing hearts in your mirrors, underlining passages in your books, and forgetting about it, you know that something has gone completely wrong. And you can’t blame it on anything outside of yourself.

The idea that you’ve been pushed this far, that your own loneliness has you creating imaginary instances of a haunting, terrifies you. What terrifies you more is that you miss him and that you’re alone again.

But you can’t think about it, or you know you’ll go insane, more so than you possibly already are. So you bury yourself in fuzzy blankets, and you play sad albums on your speaker, and you scroll through the same forums that comfort you in times like these.

You know it’s pathetic, pining for someone who doesn’t know you exist, someone completely and wholly evil for all you know. A man you aren’t even sure has a heart.

You think yours may be enough for the both of you, though.

Darkness falls over your living room in what feels like a matter of minutes, though you know it’s been hours since you first picked up your phone. Your record player has been playing the same scratchy hum that signifies the end of one side of an album. You lift your eyes from your phone screen to one of your living room windows, the one with the drawn heart in the bottom corner that you can’t bring yourself to clean off. You let your phone fall to your chest as you stare up at your ceiling and sigh.

Your heart is a greedy, hungry thing and your mind is a tool to feed it. Through daydreams and delusion, through want, want, want. You can hide from the isolation for a while, but the pain always catches up. And tonight it hurts.

You fall onto your bed with a thud, and your phone drops beside you. There’s a dull ache underneath your skin, one all too familiar and unwanted by you. Why had he left you? His absence haunts you more than his presence ever did.

Your phone buzzes against your sheets, a notification from one of the discussion sites you frequent lights up the screen, the subject being Dabi and the recent sightings in the city. The ache subsides.

It’s a video of him, maybe the clearest one you’ve ever seen. He’s alone, and he’s talking to someone, or a bunch of someones, other villains. You can’t make out the words, but you can tell they’re not pretty by the way the men start to close in on him. The smile that crosses Dabi’s face is razor sharp, deadly, reaching up to his crazed eyes. You gasp when he knocks his head against one of the men’s noses. Another one punches him square in the jaw for it, and he stumbles back, touching a finger to the seam in his face. Dabi isn’t a fighter, not with his fists at least, and you’re wondering why he’s letting them get away with this. He goes to punch one of them but misses, and while he’s distracted by his own move, one of the men sends a kick to his stomach. You hear him groan before laughing, his head hanging low as he clutches the place he was hit.

You feel hot suddenly, touching your face with your palm. You watch Dabi raise his head slowly, his laugh low and maniacal and unbelievably sexy. He licks the corner of his mouth before his hands spark with blue flames. He hurls his fire toward the men without a second thought, and that’s when the video ends. You let out a shaky breath, your heart pounding against your chest. You squeeze your thighs together as you restart the video.

It’s embarrassing how much it turns you on, watching him grin at these men, holding their life in his hands. You like watching him do more than just wield his quirk, watching his head crack against the man’s nose, watching his fist fly through the air. Something has to be wrong with you, you’re sure of it, but you can’t focus on anything but Dabi and his hands. The way that they’d feel against your skin, how they’d feel in your mouth, how they’d feel pressing your hips into your mattress. You slide your hand down your body and underneath the band of your sleep shorts. You’re already wet.

Dabi climbs through your window, the one branded with his fingerprinted heart, the window that allowed him into your life all those weeks ago. Your lights are off, and he can’t see your figure asleep on the couch in the darkness, so you must be asleep.

He promised himself he wouldn’t come back, promised you he wouldn’t. But it hurts without you, and the ache grows, the wanting. The fucking wanting.

He tried to bury it like he does everything else, tried to burn it to ash, drink it to death, beat it out of him. He’d let those guys get in a couple of good punches tonight just to feel something. Nothing works.

But you do.

He takes careful steps down the hallway when he hears your voice. He freezes. You’re moaning. He feels his breath catch in his chest. Of all of the days spent watching you, Dabi has never seen you like this. Desperate, aching, calling his name.

He watches you through your cracked door, spread out on your bed with your phone clutched tightly in one hand. You’re no longer watching whatever was on your screen, but you’ve left it playing as you arch against your bed.

“Dabi…” You mewl. He has to grab the door frame to keep himself steady at the sound. “W-want it.”

Fuck. How could he possibly leave you now? He palms himself through his jeans, watching you bring yourself closer and closer to the edge. He’s so hard that he might pass out. The puffs of air that fall from your lips as your legs shake have him holding back a groan. It isn’t until your noises become quiet that he realizes just what you’re watching.

The sound of his own laugh echoes through the speaker on your phone, and he’s surprised by the pained moan that falls from your lips at the sound.

It’s him. You’re watching him. Dabi holds back a groan. He’s careful to free himself from his pants without a sound, not that you would notice. You’re far too gone to acknowledge him right now. He could probably let out the noises that beg to be free of his throat, but he doesn’t risk it. He can’t do anything that could stop him from watching you come for him.

Your hand is obstructed by your sleep shorts, and the same can be said for the hand that has now discarded your phone onto the pillow beside your head and reached underneath your shirt to pinch one of your pert nipples. You’re close now, and so is he, barely able to keep his breathing steady as he strokes his hand against his cock.

He’d give anything to barge in now, pull you toward the edge of the bed, and sink into you without a care in the world. He wants to feel you tight around him, wants to kiss your neck and bite your skin and leave traces of himself everywhere. He wants to show you that you’re his, confirm what you’ve always known.

But instead he watches you writhe against your bed with his name falling from your lips. “Dabi–fuck! Gonna–”

You come with a loud cry, hips twitching a way that has Dabi cursing under his breath. He spills into his hand immediately after, reaching for your wall to hold himself up as he tries to keep quiet. But when his hand meets the hard surface of the wall, it collapses out from underneath, realization dawning on him that he’s pushed your bedroom door shut with a harsh slam.

At the sound of your door, you jolt up from your bed, the ecstasy of your orgasm quickly wearing off as you freeze. You listen for any other noises, and when you hear nothing, you slowly creep from your bed. Looking around your bedroom for some kind of weapon to protect yourself, you feel yourself growing panicked when you realize you have nothing. You tiptoe to your bedroom door, pushing your ear against the surface to listen to any sign of life on the other side. You hear nothing.

With your heart beating out of your chest, you slowly pull the door open, sticking your head out and looking down your dark hallway. There’s nobody there, and you wonder if this was yet another paranormal encounter after weeks of nothing.

A sinking feeling in your gut tells you that there’s nothing paranormal at all about your experiences.

You walk back to your bed in a daze, tucking yourself back under the covers and staring out your bedroom window. The video of Dabi continues to play on your phone, and you make no move to shut it off. You fall asleep to the sound, his crazed laughter somehow comforting to you in this moment.

The sinking feeling doesn’t leave you the next morning, and there’s no sign of another human in your apartment as you check all of your windows and doors. It all makes you feel uneasy, the creeping suspicion that it’s all in your head. You’re completely alone. You have no one to confide in, and even if you did, you’re sure they’d think you're insane or an idiot for allowing any of it to go on for so long without question.

You have no clue what to do or where to start, but you want whatever it is, ghost or not, gone.

…

The idea is ridiculous. You know that.

You know, standing in your living room with the ouija board you’ve just purchased sitting on your coffee table, that you are being completely ridiculous.

“If this works, then great. Then ghosts are real.” You speak aloud to nothing. “Then I’m not crazy. I’m not crazy.”

Your eyes flitter to the bottle of raspberry wine you bought on your way home, something you know is sweet and easy to drink quickly. You’ll finish the bottle in no time. You reach for it, pouring a good amount into your glass and taking a large gulp. You hold the glass to your chest, breathing in and shivering at the cool sensation against your skin. The board sits on the table, and you let out a chuckle of disbelief.

Dabi stares at you from the darkness of your hallway. He’s been in your home since before you arrived with your children’s game and your sugary wine. You’ve been on edge for days, and Dabi knows he has everything to do with it. Still, he watches you quietly, taking in the last moments of invisibility before he has to tell you.

You’re still staring at the board. You take another gulp of your wine and look out of the window that he climbed through. The strap of your spaghetti strap tank top is falling down. He thinks of the painting that hangs on your wall. You’re Sargent’s Madame X. He’s going to ruin your life.

“They sell those things in toy stores, you know.” He finally speaks. It all happens in slow motion: the quick jolt of your shoulders in surprise at the sound, your glass falling to the floor and shattering against your carpet, the scream that falls from your lips.

Then suddenly, you’re looking at him, and he is looking at you, and your hand is frozen in mid-air like the glass is still in your hand. He looks down at the mess, “Shame. That ugly carpet was kind of growing on me.”

“Dabi…” Realization dawns on your face as you say his name. He looks up at you again, before turning his attention back to the mess on your carpet. He holds an arm out and beckons you toward him.

“C’mere. You’ll cut yourself.” He tells you. You don’t move. He watches your chest rise and fall, frozen where you stand, unable to think about anything other than getting away. He watches your eyes flicker to your front door.

It happens quickly, nothing like before, climbing over your couch and rushing as fast as you can toward your escape. He almost loses you, tripping over his feet as he reaches for you. You barely touch the handle before his arm wraps around your waist in a tight grip. You’re both panting, his breath hot against your ear.

“What? You aren’t excited to see me?” He questions. It’s not like he expected you to accept him with open arms, but he didn’t think you’d run from him.

“It was you?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper. How are you meant to feel about any of this? It’s what you wanted, right? All the times you missed each other, all those days spent disappointed that you weren’t just a little earlier or a little later. And here he is, in your home, with you, with his arms wrapped around you, no less. And you want to run? What bothers you the most is that you aren’t as scared as you should be.

“Your ghost?” He questions with humor in his words. You feel his grip tighten around you before he speaks again. “Are you disappointed?”

His voice is much softer than he intended it to be, nervousness finding its way through the mask of carelessness he so carefully hides behind. It calms your nerves, the idea that he’s just as unsure of this as you are.

“I’m scared.” You admit.

“Of me?”

“I don’t know yet.” You say. He loosens his grip, arms falling to his sides as he lets you go. You step away quickly, turning to look at him while keeping a good amount of distance between the two of you.

“I’m not–I won’t hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you.” He speaks, holding his hands up. “I would never–”

“Why?” Looking at him, standing in your kitchen, his hands up in surrender, his eyes pleading, Dabi is just a man. You know this, you’ve always known this. It’s why your obsession with him is as strong as it is because, underneath all of the flames, he’s alone just like you are.

“Because you’re mine.” He sighs because he knows he must sound insane, and his answer doesn’t seem to soothe the worried look on your face. “And you know it. You do, because I’m on your fucking walls, and you stalk me like a little weirdo on your phone. You–you’re made for me.”

“Made for you?” You ask incredulously as if this isn’t the exact moment you’ve been fantasizing about since the first time you ever laid eyes on the flame user.

“Look, I didn’t think any of it was real, none of that soulmate shit people make up so that they have something to hold onto. But, fuck, I had never felt the way I did when I climbed through your window that night.” He speaks frantically like he’s trying to convince you, prove to you that what he’s saying is the truth. “You saved me, and you don’t even know it.”

You soften, “I saved you?”

“None of this would've happened if things had gone a little differently that night. I wouldn’t know you, and you could go back to your normal life with your pictures and your books and your forums, but it didn’t so I’m here. And isn’t that something?”

“I’m just…confused.” You explain. “You’re you, and I’m sure you’ve gathered by now how embarrassingly obsessed with you I am–”

“I think it’s cute.”

“Please don’t say that.”

“Why?” He questions, leaning forward. “Does it get you all hot and bothered like that night with the video of me getting my ass kicked? That was cause of you, by the way.”

“You have to understand how fucked this is. You get that, right?” You aren’t afraid anymore. You’re angry, a little hurt, but most of all excited. Made for him. He’s probably right.

“Yeah?” He questions, taking another step. You do back away, but he continues to follow you. “I think you like it. I think your life was so goddamn boring before me, so lonely. My little tricks made you so happy, baby.”

“Fuck you.” You spit, because he’s right, and you hate it. His hand comes up to hold your jaw with one hand, his fingers pressing into your skin ever so slightly.

“C’mon…” He tuts, leaning down to your height, “You used to be so sweet for me, snuggling up to me while you slept. You can’t hide from me. I know everything about you. And those feelings that you have for me don’t change in a matter of minutes just because I did something fucked up. I’m a villain, sweetheart, and you know it.”

“So what?” You ask. “You’re in love with me or something?”

You want to hear him say it. You want him to tell you it’s more than obsession, more than the excitement of scaring you.

“It’s not obvious?” He asks, releasing your jaw from his tight grip and running his thumb against your cheek to soothe you. “You ruin me.”

You shake your head, “Say it.”

“I love you.” He grins. “Kiss me.”

You do.

It shouldn’t feel as romantic as it does. With him pushing your hips into your kitchen counter, his lips so soft against yours, you forget all of it. None of it matters to you, anyways. Maybe it’s the worst way for any of this to happen. Maybe it’s the only way.

He pulls away, watching your eyes flutter open, your lips swollen from his kiss. You’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, and you’re touching his face without a hint of disgust. You’ve always been his. He surges forward, catching you off guard and pulling you into another kiss, this one much more hurried and desperate. You gasp when he presses into you, the growing bulge in his jeans hard against your thigh. He takes the opportunity to lick into your mouth, earning a choked whine from your lips. You struggle to keep up with him, with his hands everywhere. You’re overwhelmed.

“Dabi, wait.” You speak for the split second that he pulls away. He shakes his head, kissing down your jaw as you try to catch your breath.

“Can’t.” He speaks in between kisses. “You’re–I need you. Please, please, I’m–”

You bring your hands to the sides of his face, pulling him away from your neck to look at you. “Dabi. Hey.”

“Hi.” He speaks, unable to resist the urge to press his lips to yours in a quick peck before pulling away again. It makes you smile, though, so he does it one more time. “This is what you wanted, right? You wanted me?”

“I think there is something very, very wrong with me.” You say because you have to acknowledge it, at the very least. You want him so bad it burns.

“Yeah, me too.” He kisses you again. “Made for me, remember?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, “maybe I am.”

“You are.” He says against your lips. “You are, you are, you are.”

You’re in your bedroom before you have any time to think about it, your back against your sheets as Dabi hovers over you. He pauses, his frantic movements from moments ago now at a standstill as he stares down at you. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours.” You speak without hesitance.

“Yeah?” He slots his hips in between yours, running a hand up the side of one of your thighs as you make room for him. “All mine, huh? Gonna let me keep you?”

“Uh huh.” You nod. “You can keep me.”

“Good.” He drags his lips down the column of your neck. “My girl’s so good for me, yeah?”

You’re unable to answer, though you don’t know if you’re supposed to. His hands move from your hips to your backside, grinding you against his length. You gasp, grasping his shoulders for stability as he sucks on your neck.

“Gotta mark you up, baby.” He speaks against your skin. He sucks your skin harshly, biting and nipping different areas of your neck. It’s a sensation you’ve never experienced, all your senses heightened at the knowledge that it’s him who’s touching you. “Show them who you belong to, show them you’re mine.”

“Please!” You whine, arching your back into him as he bites down, hard, on the juncture of your neck. You feel him smile against your skin, kissing over the bite. He begins to lower himself down your body, kissing down the valley of your breasts over your top. He pushes your shirt up as he presses open-mouthed kisses to your stomach.

“Maybe I’ll carve my name right here, yeah?” He questions, lips against your hip. “You can do the same to me.”

When his eyes flicker up to yours, you feel your breath catch in your throat. It’s all you’ve ever wanted, every silly little fantasy you’ve ever had come true. “You’d want that? My name?”

“Fuck, of course, I would.” He groans, pushing himself back up to eye level with you. His hands rest on the mattress on each side of your head, his eyes searching your face. “Want you all over me. I want you forever.”

You wrap your hands around the back of his neck and pull him down to you in a bruising kiss. Pushing at his chest, you hook your leg around his waist to switch positions, straddling his lap as your tongue swirls in his mouth. You pull away to look at him, his eyes blown wide with need. He’s so fucking beautiful. You want him forever, too.

You rise to a sitting position, Dabi’s hands kneading the flesh of your thighs as you stare down at him. You push his shirt up and he pulls it over his head in seconds. You run your hands over his chest and abdomen, feeling his scars and the staples that hold him together under your fingertips.

“I think I wanna mark you too.” You speak, leaning down to kiss him again. “Want you to be mine.”

“I am yours.” He speaks without hesitation. He sucks in a harsh breath when your lips meet the unscarred skin of the left side of his chest. You place soft kisses there before biting down. He cries out, bucking his hips up into yours. “I’ll give you–fuck–everything.”

You continue to leave marks over his skin, satisfied with the noises you're pulling from Dabi. You run your fingers over his hips lightly. You think you would like your name there. Dabi takes the hem of your shirt between his fingers, urging you to pull the fabric from your body. He rises from his position on the bed, running a hand up the length of your spine as he pulls you close. He kisses you once more, moving his hands to your hips to help you grind down on him.

Pulling away, he trails his lips down your neck, burying his face in your chest. He wraps his lips around your nipple, tweaking the other between his fingers as he looks up at you. You cry out, rapidly grinding against him. He continues to play with your chest, kissing you with fervor and groaning into your mouth.

“C’mere.” He speaks against your lips, wrapping an arm around your waist and moving to lay you down on the bed. He hovers over you, slowly pushing his hips against yours in a way that makes you cry out. “Gonna take care of you, okay?”

He slowly makes his way down your body, slipping his fingers underneath the band of your pants and pulling them down along with your underwear. You push your knees together, staring up at him as shakes his head.

“Don’t hide.” He commands softly, pulling your thighs apart. His tongue peaks through his lips for a moment before he speaks again. “Been thinking about this since that night. M’sorry I scared you. I didn’t mean to slam the door.”

He runs his hands up your thighs, eyeing your sex as he lowers himself back down. You let out a breathy laugh, “you didn’t?”

“No.” He chuckles against the inside of your thigh, kissing your skin. “It was an accident.”

“Oh, my god.” You giggle, cut off by the feeling of his teeth sinking into your thigh. You gasp, trying to pull away, but his grip on you is tight. He kisses over the mark, eyes finding yours with a warning.

He licks a strip from your entrance to your clit, and you throw your head back, resting your hand on top of his head before he pulls back.

“Look at me.” He speaks, bringing one hand up to run a finger through your folds. You’re already a complete mess, and he feels pride in knowing he’s the reason. He’s always the reason. “Keep your eyes on me, or I’ll stop.”

You nod, wiggling your hips to urge him to continue. He chuckles softly at your desperation before burying his face between your legs again. His tongue runs along your folds in long slow strokes, your hips jolting at the stimulation. No research, or video, or fantasy you had about the man between your legs could have ever prepared you for what this feels like.

Your moans spur him on as he tastes you, the knowledge that he’s the reason for your pleasure more rewarding than anything else. He wraps his lips around your clit and you cry his name. You feel your orgasm building as he continues to lap up your juices, his grip on your thighs tight as he holds you open for him.

“Dabi! Dabi! I’m–” you let out a strangled moan as you grind your hips against his tongue, “fuck–coming! I’m coming.”

Your hips jolt at the pleasure, the feeling of his mouth still on your sex guiding you through your orgasm. He slows his strokes, running the flat of his tongue against you as you calm yourself. The movement of your hips slow as you watch Dabi still buried between your legs. You catch your breath as he tongues your cunt, cerulean eyes staring up at you as you twitch from the overstimulation. He pulls away from your sex with a wet smack, rising to capture your lips with his.

He pulls away, “call me Touya.”

“Huh?” You ask, chasing his lips again. He kisses you slow and deep, his tongue swirling against yours as he pushes his hips against yours. You groan against his mouth.

“Touya. It’s my name.” He says, placing soft kisses against your jaw. “My real name.”

Touya. His name is Touya. You know Dabi’s real name. You get to say his real name, keep that knowledge locked inside of your heart, a secret between the two of you. The reveal makes you feel closer to him, an equal exchange for all of the time he spent inside of your home without your knowledge, though you know it’s really not. You’ll take it, anyways.

“Where’d you go, baby?” He whispers against your lips. “Did the obsessed little freak inside you get excited?”

“Says you.” You scoff.

“Made for each other, right?” He speaks before kissing you again. The kiss is hungry, frantic as his lips consume yours. He fumbles with the studded belt around his waist, pulling away from you only to rid himself of his jeans.

His cock is hard against your entrance, the warmth of him overwhelming as he shifts his hips over yours. He runs his hands up the outside of your thighs, rough hands smoothing over your flesh while he kisses you again. You whimper against his lips, a silent plea for him to do more than grind against you.

“Shhh, let me–wanna remember this.” He wraps a hand around the base of his cock, running the head through your folds as you try to keep your breathing steady. “Gonna take my time with you.”

Touya leans down to kiss your neck, sucking over the already tender marks he left before, hoping to keep them there for longer, the evidence of him on your skin in the ache he leaves behind. You pant as he continues to grind his hips against yours, arching your back and pushing yourself closer to him as he continues his assault on your neck. Pulling away, he lines himself up with your entrance, staring down at you just inches away from your face.

“Kiss me.” He speaks. “Kiss me, please.”

When you kiss him, he sinks into you, swallowing your moans with his lips and slipping his tongue into your mouth as he stretches you. You catch your breath as he pulls away, adjusting to the size of him as he slowly pumps in and out of you.

“Touya.” You breathe, your hands running through his hair as he pushes into you deeper. A contented smile falls across his face as he feels you move your hips against his. “Feels–mm–good.”

“Yeah? Good. S’all I want. Just want you to feel good.” He says as his hips slowly begin to change pace. Maybe it’s the fact he spent weeks scaring you into delusion, or the fact that he can’t get the way you look when you come out of his head, but your pleasure has become his ultimate goal. He wants to watch you come undone again and again on his cock, disregarding his own needs as you're pushed over the edge over and over. He thinks he’d like you to use him, but for now, Touya wants to take care of you.

He speeds his pace up, gripping your hips in his rough hands as he pounds into you. He’s getting carried away, you realize, as his hold becomes bruising, his kiss, starved. It all feels so good with his hands all over you and his lips so desperate. He needs you and he doesn’t hide it, and with every action, Touya shows you just how much.

“It’s so much! Too much!” Not enough, you think. You cry out as he presses into you deep, pushing in and out of you with long slow strokes, his cock hitting just the spot that has you seeing stars. He groans, feeling you clench around him as he moves.

“Take it.” He commands, thrusting into you. “I know you can. You’re so–fuck–good for me.”

You whine, arching into him and pulling him down for another sloppy kiss. He can’t get enough of you, and you’re completely his. He’ll keep you. He’ll take you with him, make a little villain out of you, keep you nice and fucked out on his cock forever. All of his plans, his goals, the one thing he’s worked toward since becoming Dabi, now include you. You have a real role in his life, one that’s meant to stay, one that means forever.

You’re close. He can tell, and he feels himself being brought to the edge just as quickly as you are. His pace quickens as he thrusts in and out of you, bringing one hand to your lips, feeling you suck two fingers into your mouth before he reaches down between your bodies to play with your clit. You gasp, burying your face in his neck and biting down. You’ve drawn blood, Touya thinks, feeling the pain spread from the wound. He groans, thrusting harder and faster.

“Fuck, s-sorry!” You cry, though your words are hurried and jumbled.

“Don’t apologize, baby.” He tells you, panting above you. He runs his thumb against your bottom lip, a faint trace of blood smeared across the inside. He smiles, kissing you and reveling in the faint taste of copper. “You wanted to mark me.”

“Touya, I’m–hah–gonna come!” You cry, moving your hips against his frantically.

“I know, I know.” He coos, swiping his fingers over your puffy clit. “Come for me. Wanna see it.”

Your voice comes out loud and chokes, the end of his name dying on your lips as your hips jolt from the pleasure and your back arches against your sheets. Touya doesn’t stop thrusting, chasing his own orgasm as he watches your face contort in the same way it had before.

“Need to fill you up. Need to make you mine.” He groans, thrusting quickly.

“I’m yours, I’m yours. Please! I wanna feel it!” You whine. You feel him spill inside of you, warmth flooding your insides as he slows his pace. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him against you. He kisses you again, tongues swirling against each other as he stills on top of you.

“Stay.” You breathe, pulling away from his lips and feeling his head fall against you.

“You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.” He whispers through labored breath. “So don’t try.”

“Never. You said you’d keep me.” You remind him, feeling him smile against your skin. He rises from where he lays, staring down at you with nothing but adoration. You really are made for him. Cosmic love, divine intervention, soulmates. Touya should have known.

“Always.” He kisses your lips, your nose, both of your cheeks.

“Say it.” You command softly.

“I love you.” He grins. “Kiss me.”

You do.

#dabi x reader #dabi x female reader #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki x female reader #bnha x reader #bnha smut #tw yandere #tw abuse

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